#a less extensive monstrosity this time

[innaillus]

Drawing Ryōmen Sukuna

Development notes

This post has been in the making since last year, before the manga has reached its current arc. My aim was to respond to comments that pointed out that my version of that time didn't look like the one in the anime. I calculate everything I do and the way I do it. My current goal is to share my thoughts on the development of my take on him - simply because I'm a nerd when it comes to anatomy and I love figuring things out. It involves a lot of thinking, questioning, analysis, dissecting information and building theories. So I totally understand if it's not anyone's cup of tea.

MANGA SPOILER WARNING

The very beginning

I used to have a serious case of lack of self-confidence. My earliest art of Sukuna dates back to 2021, but it always felt like my skills are not worthy of this particular character. I never shared my art. I was also struggling to find my artistic voice. I was obsessed with the idea of semi-realism, but even if I managed to pull it off after weeks of stylisation practices, I didn't like the results.

Due to personal reasons, I stopped trying to draw him for a long time.

The development of "my" version

It was an entirely conscious decision to draw him differently.

The top reasons for the change was that I didn't want to sexualise him in his host, Yuuji, who is a minor. Back then I thought he inflicted the deformation on himself (extra limbs, eyes, etc), for the sake of efficiency, and I was curious what he looked like before that - or what he would look like in a civilised environment.

During the process, I considered a number of factors:

the beauty standard of the other JJK men - I wanted him to fit the lineup - his original appearance made him stand out quite much

in a setting where he adheres to the rules of society, more or less, I believe his MBTI personality type (ENTJ) would dictate a lot of his choices when it comes to appearance, at least to a certain extent. I thought he would choose to have an appearance that fits the beauty standards of the era

I kept his tattoos because it's a very distinguishing feature of him, but I also exercise freedom in the way I draw them, to make them as stylish as possible

Reincarnation

I used to believe once he reincarnates, his proportions would be closer to that of a "normal" human, even if he has some extra limbs. However, his size and features are above and beyond of what we are used to, and even the story emphasises their malformed appearance. So a a whole new era of Sukuna started in my art. I chose my favourite manga panels of him and mix-and-matched the most attractive features into a figure that I consider on the fine edge of monstrosity and unconventional handsomeness.

Even when I draw him with a regular number of limbs, I keep his usual mass and proportions. I dubbed this form "true gains" form.

I also realised that some of the tattoos Yuuji's body displayed was a product of the partial reincarnation stage, like we see it on Tsumiki's forehead.

NOTE: Did anyone notice that Sukuna is getting progressively more and more human/handsome in the manga? When he took over Megumi's body, I also noticed that as the story progressed, he started to look older and more mature. I'm curious of it was a conscious decision.

Twin dilemma and speculations

According to the Japanese wikipedia page, the mythical figure Sukuna could have been a conjoined twin. Despite my extensive digging in the matter, I was shocked by the recent lore drop.

My question: what does Sukuna look like in a universe where he did not absorb his twin in the womb during development?

It hasn't been confirmed, but I find it very possible now that he was born with his extra limbs, eyes and mouth, as well as the deformed, wide features. (...as opposed to my first theory about him altering his own body for the sake of efficiency)

This, however, would mean that in a universe where both him and his brother are born healthily, he would look different. There is the obvious lack of extra arms, eyes and mouth - but I believe he would also be closer to the JJK beauty standard of men, as far as proportions go (eg. more narrow face, anime-esque nose, larger eyes).

At first I was hesitant to accept this idea, as I'm very attached to the 4-arm hulk / "true gains" form now, but then I realised: this would mean that "my"version of him actually has logically explainable place in at least an alternate universe.

Thank you if you got this far.

I may edit this post later. Let's see where the story takes us.

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ 𝐛𝐨𝐛𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn! reader synopsis: leon tries bubble tea for the first time, much to his reluctance (he likes it!) content: fluff, established relationship, rebecca chambers & chris redfield mentioned. « 1.4 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

“How far is this place?” Leon lets out a heavy grunt, sight unbearable as the sharp sunrays glaring onto the scorching asphalt. Heat so nauseating it permeates through his clothing to form sweat at areas less desirable.

Leon would rather cuddle next to you at home right now, under the lulling breeze of the air conditioning. But you insisted– no matter the heat nor the distance, you must have your hands on this drink in this thickened fog of heat. It’s perplexing how you find space in your belly after such a hearty lunch today.

You loop both arms around his open elbow – propping up just for you to hold – as you flush your front onto his sides. Partial bribery, partial gratitude for joining you on this conquest despite the harsh weather conditions.

Leon lands his gaze on you – your lashes flutter, body fidget closer. There is no way he can deny you now. That you know and took full advantage of every single time. He groans in defeat, tilting his torso back as if to heave the weight of his well-satiated belly.

“What is this bubble tea? And why do you like it so much?” You call it a bubble tea, but he calls this concoction a monstrosity. Leon will never understand how one can make a drink already perfect imperfect?

“Oh, Leon. I’m about to show you a whole new world.” You spin your heels, skipping a little in the firm grip of his arms.

“I’m surprised you still have an appetite.” Leon’s tone sounds faintly like a jab.

“There’s always room for bubble tea.” He suspects you say this motto often with the way the words uttered so instantly.

Leon grumbles Rebecca’s name underneath his breath. Since you discovered it from Rebecca’s introduction, this supposed ‘habit’ soon evolved closer to an obsession. Replacing your usual coffee order with a tall plastic cup of milk tea. With how Rebecca sweetens her coffee, whatever she recommends can’t be good for you.

“I don’t think I want bubbles in my tea.” Leon tightens his lips.

“It’s not real bubbles, Lee.” You chuckle as you run your hands along his arms. “You’ll love it, trust me!”

Hand in hand with yours, Leon follows your footsteps into a slender laneway, shying away from rows of corporate office on the main street. Red lanterns hang high, adorn by banners of words you can’t read. You find familiar merchants chant a series of today’s sales across the street, hubbub of both young and old, nesting the air in this hidden away part of town. Even during a weekday, Chinatown is busy – endearingly so.

You approach a humble corner shop you often frequent. Walking up the front of the counter with one confident stride, only taking a step back at the realisation of your confused boyfriend.

Nudging at Leon’s elbow, you point at the signage that displays their extensive list of flavours, options and customisations. “Get the winter melon milk tea with extra boba.”

“Get your own.” He scoffs at your audacity.

“I want mango. But I also wanna try the winter melon tea.” You cling onto his arm, flushing your body onto his. Puffed cheeks, downturned eyebrows – you know he can’t say no. Leon can’t ever say no to you when you do that face.

“So I’m your experiment.” He sighs underneath his breath, but his countenance softens when he sees your toothy smile as the line moves forward. “What does winter melon taste like, anyway?”

“I dunno. That’s why you’re trying it for me.”

Before he can protest, it’s your turn to order. You face the register, shuffling out your membership card from your bag to beep it in front of the scanner.

“What would you two like to have?”

“One winter melon boba milk tea and one mango green tea...” Leon glances over the size options. “Medium, please.”

“Mini boba or standard boba?” The cashier fiddles with the system before them.

Leon pauses, contemplating out loud. “What does that mean?”

“What size boba do you want?” They repeat once more, gesturing to the list of toppings which puzzles him even more.

“Standard, thanks. Whatever it means.” A prompt nod, buttons are pressed. “Ice and sugar levels?”

“Standard everything.” Leon tries to sound calm, but the words escaped with a snapping edge.

Leon makes his payment, frustrated by the entire experience, but it all the more teases a giggle out of you to see the usual composed Leon fluster over ordering a simple drink. The barista calls out your number. You two occupy an empty table, drinks in hand.

The drink sits before Leon, black beads declining to the bottom, tall cup sealed with a plastic film – Leon has seen you do this a few times. He should know what to do. Leon lines the straw on top of the film, with a small burst, puncture the film through the pointy end. The other hand grips the cup a tad too firm, the impact splashing the tea from the puncture all over his hand.

Your laughter bursts at the sight – chuckling so hard that Leon is asking for napkins from the front counter, hands still a dripping mess. He hates you for it – just a little though – for not warning him.

“That went well.” He grumbles, wiping off the droplets from his fingers with the white napkin.

“It’s okay – I've been there, done that.” You repeat his motions, thrusting your straw in your drink with practiced ease before taking a generous sip. You rummage your phone out of your pocket, pointing the lens directly at him.

“What?” Leon fiddles with the straw, swirling the substance under his fingertips.

“Go on.” You tilt your head in encouragement. “Take a sip.”

“I can’t drink if you’re recording me like this.” He broods on the words slightly.

“Drink!” You demand out of impatience, waving your hands more exaggeratedly.

Leon gazes inside the straw, the thick pipe designed for easier travel of any toppings within. He is hesitant, especially with you watching intently at his every movement and reaction. He hopes you never send this video to Chris; Leon will never recover from the embarrassment if so.

“Here goes nothing.” With a deep breath, Leon sucks the liquid from the straw.

The liquid makes contact first: a blend of tea and sugary syrups complementing each other; the dew of wintermelon arousing a soft sweetness that is easy to consume and just as addictive. Flavourful, but not overwhelming so. Suddenly, something round and slimy enters his mouth through the pipe.

Leon winces, taken aback. Bites on it to find it chewy. Then swallows. Doesn’t taste like anything in particular.

“What are these made of?”

“Those are tapioca, it’s nice and chewy isn’t it?”

Leon nods, taking another sip, savouring the taste of all the flavours combined. With how invested he is sipping his drink, you can’t help but smile as the levels goes down steadily. He notices you staring.

“Do you… want to try?” He takes the straw out of his mouth, passing it over to you.

You light up, moving in so quickly it almost shove him aside. Sorry Leon, you should have known that your love for bubble tea is above your love for him.

“Is this what wintermelon tastes like? I love it!” You take a sip. Leon tries your drink, nodding in approval before moving your cup back to you. But you don’t, instead, with an almost guilty tone, said: “Do you wanna... swap?”

“Nice try – but no. You made your choice, stick with it.” Leon scoffs, removing his drink off your hands, which leads you to pout miserably.

After Leon's signal, you two leave the shop. Leon takes you to all the shops you want to visit – and you find your gaze trailing to his drink that is going down much faster than yours.

“So… what do you think about the tea?” You ask, hoping to get any kind of admittance on how this drink isn’t so bad after all.

“It’s okay… I don’t mind it.” Leon keeps his praise short, feigning playful stubbornness.

You see through him immediately, lighting up, before stealing another sip from his. “Back here again tomorrow?”

Leon’s lips upturned into a smile, but he lets you take another sip – which he will regret later, with how fast you’re consuming. His hand places gently on your head. Shaking his head in disbelief, fully aware that he is powerless against you – and you are likely to make a return trip together. Anything to make you happy.

“Get your self together, sugar addict.”

i was tempted to make reader chinese poc since i'm chinese myself, but didn't to make reader more relatable haha (missed opportunity tho)i'm sorry for making ur bf order at the counter (ordering bubble tea for the first time is so daunting) also! thank you @sporeghost for beta reading this & literally held my hand through a few sentences, especially 2nd last line, it's not mine!! thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @valsthea @sporeghost @daydreamrot (pm me for tags)�� roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[chickensoup-4-mysoul]

melodious voices (ouran host club x black fem reader) - chapter 1

chapter 1 - adagio

synopsis: you were made to share with others. it's what you love the most about music--it's an opportunity to give. but at ouran, it seems no one wants anything from an outsider.

until a group of hosts come along to help you open the door.

word count: 4,509 words warnings: use of (y/n), pry it from my cold dead hands sorry A/N: surprise, new fic! another indulgent one in many ways. reader is written as black, but please feel free to read no matter your identity! her race is mentioned as part of the story. hope you enjoy! will be crossposting with ao3 :)

Everyone is staring at you.

It’s not an outright stop and stare--that would be rude. It’s more like a double take. A quick glance followed by a lingering, curious gaze--as if seeing something out of the corner of your eye and looking again to confirm what you just saw.

It occurs in waves, with every different huddle you walk past. You feel many pairs of eyes bore into your back, no doubt staring more intently now that you’re not facing them.

Maybe it’s because you’re new?

It’s already a few weeks into the school year. More than enough time to get to know the peers that they’ll be spending the next year with. Apparently, Ouran Academy contains students from pre-school age to university years. These people had likely been attending school alongside each other since childhood. It would make sense for such a close-knit community to suss out an outsider immediately.

Still, there are three different grades, and several classes within them. Plus, this school was huge! There was no way for anyone to know every single student at this school. No way for someone to look at you and assume you haven’t been here the whole time.

Okay, maybe it’s because you’re not wearing the uniform.

You don’t know who it was that designed the uniforms, but they needed to be locked up. Hung from the neck until dead, maybe. Who on earth dreamed up that garish silhouette in that god awful sickly yellow color? The male uniform was much better—simple and sleek with a pleasant shade of blue. The female uniform consists of elements that are cute on their own, but absolutely dreadful when combined.

That being said, the girls around you wore it quite gracefully. Somehow, it looked less costumish and more like a fashion statement too refined for a mere commoner to understand.

Haha. No way, right?

You doubt you would be able to pull it off as well. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that it was much too outrageously expensive for you to afford it. It wouldn’t make sense to drop all that money on a uniform you’d only wear for a year.

Still, you hope your clothes of choice are enough to make up for it. You didn’t have to wear a uniform back at your other school, so you kinda just made up your own. You’d even gone to the lengths of sifting through Nordstrom Rack for the best quality materials. 

Brown slacks hang comfortably around your legs, cuffs billowing around your ankles. The short, puffed sleeves of your blouse mimic that of the yellow uniform’s. A thin, caramel-colored sweater vest completes the look, along with a pair of comfy loafers and a pink ribbon tied beneath your collar.

Maybe you should’ve gone with a skirt? You’re definitely skewing the binary here. You were told that purchasing the yellow monstrosity wasn’t required, but your peers could be assuming that you’re breaking some kind of rule.

Everyone was staring at the pants-wearing, Nordstrom-cloaked rulebreaker.

Or maybe it’s because…

Oh, who are you kidding.

These people have probably never seen a black person in their lives.

Nerves send your manicured fingers scratching at your hairline. Your curls are pulled into a tight  crown twist. You had contemplated getting braids or some other protective style, but figured the extensions wouldn’t be allowed at this school. It’d kinda be like dyeing your hair, right?

You looked nice! At least, you thought so when you’d looked in the mirror this morning. Now, you feel like you might as well have grown a second head.

Your social anxiety distracts you from just how monstrous this campus is. The moment you’d entered the front gate, you were bombarded by the smell of cherry blossoms. Your brain struggled to fathom the mirage of soft pinks, sky blues, and pristine whites. It was so beautiful, so grandiose that it set you on edge.

Pausing in your stride, you force yourself to take a deep breath. The sweet, floral scent floods your nostrils. Tension gives your body one last squeeze before you exhale it away. You level the large campus with a determined glare.

You can do this.

...

Your confidence regresses the minute you step foot inside. 

The ceilings arched high above your head, making room for the tall glass windows on the walls. The interior was just as overwhelming as the exterior, you noted, as you walked through rose gold halls. For such a soft color scheme, the architecture didn't do much to ease your nerves.

Are those red carpeted stairs?? You’re kidding.

Each step falls carefully for fear of scuffing the perfectly polished floor. Your timid feet carry you to an imposing set of doors. The deep, expensive-looking slabs of wood could probably snap you up and eat you whole…

You shake the ridiculous thought from your head. Your knuckles give a timid knock against the door. A brief stretch of silence follows, before you hear a muffled “come in.”

The door feels just as heavy as it looks. It slowly relents under your push, revealing a spacious office. Your eyes wander up the walls to the tall ceilings to the ornate chandelier. The room is grounded by a sturdy, severe desk right in the middle. Its presence is outshined by the man sitting at it, your pulse quickening at the sight of him. Willing yourself not to stare too long, you bow at the waist in greeting.

“Good morning…I���m, um…“

“Ah yes, Miss (L/N). Please, come have a seat.”

The lofty friendliness of the dean’s tone eases your worries. You hastily comply with his request, sinking into a cushioned seat near his desk.

“You’re the slightest bit early. Hopefully you didn’t feel too rushed this morning.”  His manner of speech is slow and deliberate—you wonder if that was his natural pattern of speech or if he was doing it for your sake.

“Not at all! I was very excited for my first day so I had to be punctual.”

The man smiles more with his eyes than with his mouth. “I see. You’re just as I thought you’d be.”

“Am I…?” You return his smile sheepishly. You hope that’s a good thing.

“Why, yes. That lovely letter you sent precedes you. Am I correct that you sent quite a few to other Ouran staff?”

Ah, the thank you notes. So he had read it after all? “Yes, sir. I sent letters to the Chairman and the rest of the Board. Not just staff at Ouran, though—everyone involved in my admittance got one.”

It had taken a lot of postage, cramped wrists, and extra hours with your Japanese tutor—but you’d made a point to write a letter to each and every person. This truly was a huge opportunity, and you were fully aware that many people were doing you a big favor. 

“I know I said it in the letter, but I must express again how grateful I am. I’m so excited to be here at Ouran. I will make the absolute best of it!”

“I have no doubt. It’s a pleasure to have you, Miss (L/N). I’m sure your peers will feel the same.”

Oh yeah, you think, they’re DEFINITELY feeling the pleasure.

“Well now, I did promise you that this would be brief.” He pulls a small stack of papers from the edge of his desk and rifles through them. “Let’s get started, shall we? There’s only a few things to go over.”

...

By the time the meeting concluded, the halls had completely cleared. If they were spacious before, they looked absolutely gargantuan now. You feel more at ease after having your first conversation of the day. You didn’t choke too bad either! Hopefully, you can keep that up.

You waste no time in heading towards your assigned classroom. Meeting with the Dean gave you an excuse, but you weren’t keen on missing too much. By now, morning assembly has begun and you really wanted to meet your homeroom teacher.

“Up one flight of stairs, down to the end of the hall and to the left…”

You pass several doors, from 2-D, to 2-C, 2-B…

Ah!

Ah.

Just the sight of the door sign kinda makes your heart drop into your ass.

You tap your cheeks lightly before fussing at your clothes and hair. The cool metal of the door handle sends a zap of electricity through your fingertips. Before you can hesitate any longer, you gently pull the door open.

“…so make sure that you…hm?”

There’s a tangible shift in the room that has you wanting to sprint away. There are so many faces in your peripheral vision but you don’t dare look directly at them. A couple dozen students—no doubt staring at the new intruder. Standing at the front of the room, a plainly dressed woman pauses mid-sentence and glances at you. You see the cogs turning in her head.

“Ah, you must be (L/N), correct?”

“Y-yes ma’am.” Don’t stutter—No more stuttering!

The woman nods in understanding, checking something on her clipboard before beckoning you over. You quietly comply, very aware of the many eyes burning holes into you right now.

“Everyone, we have a special guest. She will be studying alongside you for the next year, so please welcome her. I will let her introduce herself.” You take her glance as a signal, finally regarding the class face to face.

“Good morning! My name (L/N) (F/N). I’m from America, but I’ll be here studying abroad for the next year. This is my first time in Japan, so please be patient with me as I acclimate to my new surroundings.”

You punctuate your speech with a modest bow. Hopefully that was correct? It was certainly how you’d rehearsed it. Reluctant to make eye contact with any of your classmates, you gaze at your teacher expectantly. Her stoic face breaks into a small, reassuring smile.

“Welcome to Ouran Academy, (L/N)-san. I’m Takara Ginko, your homeroom teacher. That empty desk there will be yours.” She gestures to a desk a few rows from the back. It’s in the column closest to the door. You thank her before quickly making your way to your seat. Your shoulders remain squared and chin tipped up. It’s easier to avoid eye contact that way.

Miss Takara is quick to pick up where she left off, drawing the attention away from you. You let out a soft exhale of relief. It was far from the hard part, but the introduction was a feat that you’d been dreading. You quickly tune into your teacher’s remarks, hoping you can catch up on whatever you missed.

It’s actually really nice to listen without the pressure to respond. You get to practice translation in real time without worrying about what to say. You’ve been able to follow along pretty well so far!

Your concentration is briefly stolen by a movement in the corner of your eye. At first, you write it off as your imagination. Then, a speck of dust. Then, you finally spare a glance. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, but you find yourself looking at a head of pale blonde hair. The back of that head, to be exact.

Wow, you don’t know how you didn’t notice it before. The hair looks soft and shiny, even from a distance. It couldn’t be dyed, could it? It looks so full and natural. You shake your head and force yourself to pay attention.

Soon, your first day of classes at Ouran commences. Different teachers cycle in and out of the room, each one discussing a new subject. It’s similar to what you’re used to in some ways, and different in others.

Back in America, you had just reached the final weeks of your sophomore year. Due to the difference in pacing between American and Japanese education systems, it was decided that you would be attending Ouran as a second year student. Technically, you were repeating your sophomore year, but the material you’d be studying was closer to the level of an American junior.

That explanation made your head hurt, but you figured it would work out okay. You weren’t wrong! 

You’ve tunneled your vision into taking as many notes as you can. Beside your notebook is a thick packet, flipped open a few pages. The top page dons several highlighted blurbs and notes scribbled in the margins. It was the material that your classes had progressed through during the weeks you missed. After studying it to the best of your ability, you found yourself able to keep up pretty well.

That little movement happens again, and now you know for sure that it’s coming from the blonde. You sneak enough of a peek to catch his chin, tipping in your direction.

This time, when he turns to peer at you, you’re staring back at him. He doesn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed about being caught. His lips quirk into a small smile before he returns his attention to the teacher.

Oh no, he’s cute!

You blink dazedly, eventually following his example. The distance could be fooling you, but you swear there was a touch of blue in his gaze. Perhaps he was from another country too? Maybe that’s why he was so friendly to you…

It dawns on you that it was the first smile you’d gotten from a peer. 

He doesn’t look at you much more after that—not during class, anyway. During class transitions, his attention wanders to you again. His full upper body rotates in his chair, no longer feeling the need to be subtle. You find yourself watching him anxiously, wondering if he intended to talk to you. 

But every time he moved to leave his desk, someone would miraculously appear before him. Usually a girl, most usually a group of girls. They would instantly monopolize his attention until the next class began. The cycle continued between each class, all the way until lunch—when they managed to whisk him out of the classroom.

So the girls flocked to him, huh? Made sense. Must be some kind of ladies’ man. Still, you found yourself wanting him to move from his seat. To walk an uninterrupted path from his desk to yours. To look you in the eyes and say “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

You don’t realize that your eyes follow his entourage all the way to the door—not until they meet with someone else’s gaze. You unwittingly stare into onyx pools obscured by thin-framed glasses. Your heart leaps into your throat when you finally realize that someone’s looking back at you.

He trails behind the blonde and his female admirers, scribbling something onto a clipboard. He never pauses his movements, not even as he levels you with that observant, calculating look.

I caught you.

Heat explodes beneath the skin of your face. Averting your attention, you rest your blazing cheek on the palm of your hand.

And you had been admonishing everyone else for staring.

You stew in your embarrassment until the classroom empties out. Your sigh echoes through the silence. Should you just have lunch here? You’re not feeling quite social enough to find people to sit with.

The sun casts a rich glow through the room. A soft breeze announces itself through the waving of cherry blossom petals. It was much too beautiful outside to be cooped up all day.

Grabbing your lunch from your bag, you resolve to go out and explore. Some fresh air would make up for the lack of social interaction you were bound to suffer from. You walk briskly through the halls, willing yourself to ignore the looks being thrown your way. 

...

A cherub. Pissing into the fountain.

The ugliest guffaw tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. You briefly check your surroundings, finding that no one was around to hear. The secluded area was the perfect place for some quiet time. Hedges loomed tall around the enclosure, creating a private garden. You walk along the stoned path, eyes wide with awe.

The edge of the fountain looks like the best place to perch and eat. Now that you’ve calmed down, your hunger has wormed its way to the front. You’d packed a simple lunch of meat, veggies, and rice. 

Your first time navigating the grocery store was a tad overwhelming, but you managed to get everything you needed.  Apparently, there was a cafeteria that you were allowed access to, but you don’t think you could handle that many people right now. Plus, you needed a few more days of a nice, home-cooked meal to quell your home sickness.

A faint rustling disrupts the peaceful silence. You squint at the hedges, trying to find the source of the sound. Suddenly, you hear a twig snap and swivel towards the noise. 

Your heartbeat immediately slows when you see what it is.

A chunky white cat pads towards you, fluffy tail swishing behind it. Wow, he’s huge. He’s not shy at all, walking right up to you and headbutting your ankles. 

“Well hey, buddy!” You say softly.

He was much too robust—you mean, well fed to be a stray, and his fur was soft and clean. Maybe he was someone’s outdoor cat? He presses his little pink paws onto your knees, eyeing the emptying bento box in your lap. You quickly swipe it up and close it.

“Ah-ah, I don’t think so, bud. This stuff isn’t good for you.”

He’s persistent, sticking his nose into your lap in search of crumbs. A laugh bubbles from your chest. 

“Hold on, I might have something for you.”

You wipe out a small dish that you had been using for sauce. The cat’s nose(as pink as his paws) twitches when you pull a small bottle of milk from your bag. You pour a little into the dish and set it down for him.

The cat wastes no time digging in. The amusing sound of frenzied licking fills the air. Maybe he wasn’t starving, but he sure was greedy. You’re happily watching him eat when you hear footsteps.

The boy doesn’t seem to notice you, but you notice him immediately. It would be appropriate to call him a man, but he’s wearing a school uniform so he must be your age. He’s got broad shoulders, an imposing presence, and bright red hair that you can spot from a mile away.

He looks as though he’s searching for something—which must be why he hasn’t spotted you. It doesn’t take much longer, though, until he finally turns to make eye contact with you. His body shoots straight as if shocked by electricity. His face twists into something that would be scary if not for the pink flush across his cheeks.

“Erm…hello,” you offer, giving him another once over.

You realize that he’s wearing his uniform improperly. His white dress shirt is completely unbuttoned to reveal a yellow T-shirt underneath. This school must be more lenient on dress code than you thought. Your eyes light up at the small dish in his hands.

“Ah, so we had the same idea!” You smile, glancing back down at the ravenous cat. “Sorry I beat you to it, but it looks like he’s finishing mine. I bet he won’t turn down more, chunky little guy.”

Per your words, the cat has just licked up the last drop. You retrieve the empty dish from him, sending the boy an expectant look. He stares back at you dumbly, shoulders still tense.

“I’d hurry, before he runs away.” You gently prompt.

It seems to break him from his stupor. He moves swiftly but softly, pushing the dish of milk towards the hungry little guy. Said little guy doesn’t even stop to see who’s feeding him before diving into the offering.

“That’s just the best.” You force yourself to laugh quietly, for fear of disturbing his meal. The boy is quietly looming over you, eyes glued to the cat. He’s still pretty wound up. You note how his hands are clenched into trembling fists. You want to invite him to sit beside you, but you wonder if that's a bad idea.

Your first social interaction with a peer and he won’t even look at you. Geez.

You start to grow self conscious. Was he actually mad at you for feeding the cat first? Maybe this was his go-to hang out spot and you had crashed it. Or maybe he sees you like an outsider like everyone else…

Ew, why are you moping? You don’t even know if people actually think that way about you.

“…What class are you in?” You finally ask. Your eyes shoot lasers into the side of his head, silently willing him to look at you. It kinda works—his eyes flit in your direction for a millisecond before snapping forward. Pinkness lingers on his cheeks.

“…1-D.”

His voice is gravelled like a grown ass man’s. This guy was a first year?

“2-A.” You nod, satisfied to have a response from him. However, his body seizes even tighter before bending into a deep bow.

“S-senpai!” Red locks curtain his face in the position. You blink at him, struggling to register the sudden action.

“Oh…no, don’t worry about that. We don’t really care about that stuff back home—You can just call me (Y/N), if it’s not too informal for you.”

When he rises from the bow, his face is almost as red as his hair. This guy had a scary mug, but he was honestly kind of amusing. He didn’t float above everything or stick his nose up. A smile pulls at your lips. “What can I call you?”

“K…Kasanoda…Ritsu.” His eyes are doing that thing where they focus on the bridge of your nose. You can tell—you’ve done the same thing many-a time before.

“Kasanoda…that’s your last name, right? So I should call you that?” You’d rather look a bit foolish asking clarifying questions instead of offending someone by calling them the wrong name. Kasanoda gives you a hesitant nod. He hastily pushes away the flustering image of a female stranger calling him by his first name.

“Alright, Kasanoda-san. Well, we’re introduced now, so you don’t have to be so…” Awkward. Uncomfortable. Constipated-looking. “…tentative!”

You pat the stone beside you with persistence. The redhead complies, sitting hunched and wide-legged. You don’t laugh at him, even though you want to.

It’s not exactly laughing at him. You’re just delighted to talk to someone so genuinely themselves. This guy probably couldn’t be ingenuine if he tried.

“Oh my gosh, look.” You gasp.

He follows your command and looks back at your feline friend. The cat has finished the remnants of the milk and the bottom half of his face is completely soaked. It looks like he has a wet, milky goatee and mustache combo. A squeal keens from the back of your throat. Kasanoda doesn’t express his excitement as girlishly, but his body communicates in earnest. You can read it in the way he leans forward, eyes rapt and lips pressed in a thin line. 

He was as much of a fan of cute cats as you were!

His movement seems to draw the cat’s attention…in a negative way. The two make eye contact for the first time and the cat lets out a frightened yowl, tucking its tail and scampering away. Its fluffy white tail disappears into the lush greenery.

“Aw, darn. I hope he finds a way to clean his face, or he’s gonna get stinky.” You start to pack up your things, aware of your time coming to a close. It felt criminal to go back inside on such a beautiful day, but classes awaited you. Maybe Kasanoda would like to walk back with you? You go to ask him, but pause once you take in his state.

His red locks obscure his face, but you make out the sharp line of his clenching jaw. His hands are squeezed back into those fists. You worry about his fingernails cutting into his palms.

“Kasanoda-san…?”

Your careful voice seems to snap him out of something. His shoulders drop with a dejected sigh. “S’my fault. I scared it away.”

Oh my god. That’s what he was brooding about??? Your grin wobbles from stifled laughter.

“Don’t worry about it! Cats are usually pretty skittish. He was just using us for food—not that I mind.”

Your words don’t cheer him up as quickly as you’d hoped. He does make eye contact with you, though. His sulking is much more evident in his brown eyes. “It’s always like this. With pets and people. Everyone’s scared o’ me.”

You take in his words, looking over him once more. His bright hair, his popped collar, his permanently furrowed brow. The image flashes through your mind of your peers, staring at you with an unreadable look in their eyes. Was it fear?

Did everyone fear you?

“Let’s walk back together, okay? Lunch is almost over.”

Kasanoda startles at that, eyeing you incredulously. You’re standing over him now, and you’re actually quite the imposing presence. Your confident stance indicates that “no” will not be taken for an answer. You…

You didn’t seem scared of him at all.

“R-right. Okay.”

His movements are timid as he follows behind you. The thought dawns on him, wondering where exactly you came from. He hadn’t noticed you over the past few weeks, but surely he would’ve. Had you been here the whole time?

Now, as he finally took the time to see you, he feels that you couldn’t have been. You stood out, even more than he did. The sun bounced off of the cream colors you wore, creating a golden glow on your brown skin. 

Suddenly, his mind is wandering into some embarrassing territory, and he has to avert his gaze once more. You don’t bother him about it, attributing it to shyness. It begins as a quiet walk, until Kasanoda’s the one that breaks the silence. You’re overjoyed when he mentions your “back home” comment and asks where home is. 

You give him a little background about how you’re from America and today’s your first day at Ouran. So you haven’t been here the whole time, he thinks. You make small talk with him about the first weeks of school. Obviously, they’ve been a bit rough because everyone’s scared of him—but he says he enjoys the nature on campus, especially the animals.

“They just need time to get to know you.” You encourage him. “I think you’ll have plenty friends in no time. You’ve got me!”

You’re plenty aware of how forward you’re being. Kasanoda’s earnest nature has you wanting to be sincere in return. Still, you keep your eyes forward, merciful enough not to bombard him with direct eye contact. Though, if you had, you’d catch an eyeful of the redhead’s blushing, awestruck visage.

Passersby spot Kasanoda and cower in fear. Others see you and observe curiously, unable to find the manners to look away.

But amidst your idle chatter, neither of you seem to notice.

[heartfullofleeches]

Turns out I'm doing both - Yan hellhound + Warden Reader

-

You've always had a soft spot for strays. When it turns out the wild dog you've been leaving scraps for is in actuality a massive, three headed monstrosity from hell little changes. Each head as a mind of its own, and though their personalities differ one factor that carries in them all is their fidelity to you. It took countless months and heavy trial, but eventually you were able to train the demon well enough to work at your side in the prison. No soul would ever be safe from the tempered glares of your protector which were death sentences of their own only without the senseless bloodshed. Long as thighs stayed that way you didn't mind their playfulness less they start to fuss during important business.

Your pet follows you around like a sweet puppy - alway chasing your heels or maybe trying to squeeze its giant body beneath your desk to be close to you at all times. It towers over you and your guards, striking the toughest inmates to submission. It snarls and hisses - ready to bite limbs anscheads off in a flash yet ceases all activity with a single tug on its collar or mere whisper of its name. You may let it get away with scaring people too much, but it's hard to punish your gentle beast when they're just that in every way except when it decides to show its true colors-

Warden Darling pretty much sees the hound as am extension of themself/a tool to improve their work flow, but that doesn't mean they don't care for them. The mental imagine of warden darling doing paperwork while using this behemoth as a footstool/seat is sending me

-

[Warden Darling sits in the hounds lap during an inspection, using the beast as a portable chair around the jail. Warden darling pets two of its heads as the third nuzzles their cheek - leash tight around their wrist.]

Warden Darling: good pups~

Yan Guards, on the verge of tears: It hurts seeing others living your dreams :(

-

Warden Darling: Sit.

[Reader pets the hound as it kneels, wagging its tail - looking off to the side puzzled]

Warden Darling: I wasn't speaking to you

Yan Inmate: I know....Let me dream for a little longer before you kick me while I'm down

-

Warden Darling: I need a shower.... I believe its time for you to have a bath as well..

[The hound lifts reader up and licks at their cheek as it carries them off to the showers. A group of guards and inmates watch on from the sidelines - huddling close as the pair walk off with the hound pawing at reader's clothing]

Yan guard: We can't let that fucker get away with this!

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

🌐The Long and Complicated History of the Time Lords: Part III – The Rise of the Time Lords

When last we met, Gallifrey had ascended from red-grassed obscurity to interstellar power, thanks to the Pythian Order and a lot of prophecy. But as Gallifrey reached the precipice of total dominion, it was about to face its greatest upheaval yet.

Disclaimer: Information on the creation of existence and a whole society is obviously mixed. GIL has waded through many contradictions to provide you with the most cohesive, structured, and key details of how it all came about, but there is room for interpretation.

⚰️ The Kotturuh Arrive

Somewhere around the time young Rassil Onasti Prydonius (soon to be "Rassilon") was studying temporal manifolds and learning the correct ratio of owl imagery to god-complex, the Kotturuh arrived.

The self-appointed Bringers of Death, the Kotturuh, had been bouncing around the Universe for some time, declaring that every other species in the cosmos was not, in fact, entitled to immortality. They finally reached Gallifrey and imposed finite lifespans on its people. [1]

Gallifrey was horrified. Physicians, like Androken, described mountains of corpses. The Age of the Pythias entered a period of paranoia, rebellion, and deep theological discomfort.

🏟️ The Death Zone & Gallifreyan Slave Games

Seeking a way to manage internal unrest (and perhaps keep the population distracted from the rising death toll), the 430th Pythia commissioned architect Rassilon to construct the Death Zone—a gladiatorial pit where prisoners of war, slaves, and various alien species were forced to fight to the death.

The Games of Death were considered sacred, and Gallifreyans watched the carnage on public access channels. Autons, Mandrels, and Drashigs made regular appearances. White sand was imported to show the blood better. It was all very tasteful.

🔬 The Time Program Begins

Somewhere between the death pits and state-sponsored prophecy, Gallifrey realised it could do better than watching. It could time travel. The 508th Pythia, in one of her more progressive moments, authorised the Time Program—a state-funded effort to explore the theoretical possibilities of time travel.

A student named Peylix submitted a temporal theory based on Genefrenian models and received the lowest academic mark in Gallifreyan history: Omega. He kept the name. Alongside Rassilon and probably the Other, Omega developed the first space-time craft capable of entering the Vortex. It worked. The first Time Scaphe[2] launched.

🧬 The Timeless Child

Meanwhile, deep in another subplot, explorer Tecteun returned to Gallifrey after aeons with a child she found near a wormhole monument. The child had impossible DNA and could regenerate indefinitely. Tecteun was intrigued, and also deeply unethical.

She studied the child extensively—painfully, repeatedly—extracting genetic material and triggering forced regenerations. Eventually, this child would become known as the Timeless Child. Theories about their origin include:

Conceptual entity

A Great Old One

An Elemental

Vampire godchild

Misunderstood CAT

or possibly all of the above. Or something else.

🩸 The Vampires Are (Accidentally) Unleashed

In one of Gallifrey's less successful experiments, Rassilon attempted to harness a stellar singularity for use as a power source. Instead, he punched a hole in the Vortex and accidentally invited in the Yssgaroth— eldritch creatures from a darker universe, including the Great Vampires.[3]

These monstrosities weren't just huge; they were metaphysically infectious, contaminating biodata and history itself.

Rassilon whistled innocently and said, 'Oh gosh, who did that? That's terrible!'

This would come back to haunt Gallifrey.

🔥 The Intuitive Revolution

As Gallifrey's science advanced, its stability crumbled. Its interstellar colonies began demanding independence, civil unrest grew, and food shortages worsened with the onset of an ice age.

A new political movement, the Neo-Technologists, gained popularity. Led by Rassilon and backed by the Other and Academia cadets, they rejected the Pythian regime's mysticism and demanded rational reform. Tensions mounted, and Gallifrey reached a breaking point.

On Intuitive Revolution Night, the Neo-Technologists stormed the Temple of the Pythia, beating drums as the Council Police opened fire on the protestors. The Capitol's west district burned, shocking Omega, who was appalled at the violence.

The last Pythia, unable to see the future and cornered by reformers, hurled herself into the Crevasse of Memories That Will Be. Before doing so, she laid a curse[4]:

'Let the world hear my curse. I am Gallifrey, sky and rock, flame and flood, womb and bone. When I am no more, the world shall be barren and empty of new life. It will live a slow ageless death and come to nothing in its own dust. I have spoken these words. Let them be fulfilled.'

🧬 The Curse

The Pythia's final curse did more than end prophecy—it ended reproduction. Womb-born Gallifreyans vanished. Rassilon's daughter was stillborn. Shobogans hurled their stillborn children into the Crevasse of Memories That Will Be.

A solution desperately needed to be found.

🔱 Rassilon Crowned

The Council awarded Rassilon not one but three crowns, officially ending the theocracy and beginning the Time of Legend. The Court of Principals quietly became the Court of Rassilon, and society restructured into the Six Chapterhouses (each headed by one of the mythic Founders).

Rassilon now ruled a barren Gallifrey.

Assembled from ROOG and TARDIS Wiki

Tomorrow: Part IV - The Birth of the Time Lords

Footnotes:

[1] The Kotturuh: Imposed a lifespan of roughly 300 years.

[2] The Time Scaphe: A six-crew capsule powered by psychic energy, was Gallifrey's first manned time vessel—predating TARDISes but laying the groundwork for their design.

[3] The Great Vampires: They infected time itself, spreading a metaphysical plague known as the V-Factor. It's like the X Factor but with less singing and more blood sucking.

[4] The Pythia's Curse: Gallifreyans would become functionally sterile, their children loomed rather than born, but more on that in part IV.

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[fluffy-sekhmet]

About my NanamixReader Fanfic...

Hello, lovely people of Tumblr!

As I've worked on the fanfic I've been planning to share with you this week I realized the story I want to tell is more extensive than I had originally planned. So far I'm at 1k words and have covered around a quarter of the story. I wanted to post something small (around 1k words) as I didn't want to overwhelm myself with a big project since this is my first time writing fanfiction, but now that that's not the case anymore I thought of two options:

1) Finish writing the fanfic as planned, post the monstrosity over the weekend, and work on my next fanfic once I'm done with finals. I'll probably do some shitposting and post a X-Mas fanfic on the 24th.

2) Divide the fanfic into parts, finish working on part one, and post it on Thanksgiving or Friday. Work on finishing the rest little by little, posting a new part weekly, and then work on a X-Mas fanfic for the 24th after finals.

So yeah, let me know which one you prefer! Sekhmet out.

[duckiemimi]

hi i am going to ask a silly question as a newer fan. why do u (or other people) consider gojo morally grey? am I missing something about his characterization? i thought he was similar to yuji, but more "realistic", I suppose? i realize how crazy off that could be, I'm really asking out of curiosity!

hi! this isn't a silly question at all, don't worry!

to clarify, i don't quite consider him morally grey! i think of him as someone with motivations that align with the protagonists' big-picture ideology (i used to call them the "good guys," the colloquial way people usually refer to protags, but i think people get the wrong idea when i use that term, so i'll use "protagonists" from now on!). to put simply, his morality generally lies on the side of the perspective jjk is told from—a perspective pushed to be seen as favorable by us readers!

i think "morally grey" has become a buzzword people throw around to describe characters who aren't borderline altruistic or characters who don't have explicitly stated emotionally-driven motivations. could you really label a character "morally grey" if in their universe, combat is commonplace and power systems exist? what context-appropriate lines will we use to distinguish what's black, and white, and grey? we'll get to that later. now let's talk about the specifics: his individual motivations.

characterization-wise, i think most people consider gojo "morally grey" because of his teenage apathy and some of the less tactful things he's said (he's very point-blank and he doesn't sugarcoat). i also think that nanami's description of him in the afterlife scene retconned what was already established of him, in turn affecting the perception of his character as well (click for a post i wrote on this). and now the concept of "monstrosity" in relation to his character has been introduced into the story, too.

gojo is a very pragmatic character for the most part. i don't think gojo sees things through a rigid "right and wrong" lens. i think he sees them for their practicality in reference to what he already knows to be true. for more context, i'd say compared to geto (his foil), who put righteous meaning to his duty pre-defection and self-justified meaning to his ideals post-defection, gojo's idea of duty towards non-sorcerers is an extension of his learned role. it's not something he feels particularly strongly for—it's just something he was born and bred for.

but that doesn't mean he doesn't care! he does care, otherwise we wouldn't have a story in the first place. he just shows "care" differently, less towards the subject of jujutsu protection and more towards his peers, the people he's been surrounded by his whole life. but even then, he takes his duty of protecting non-sorcerers (protecting all of humanity, really) very seriously and that's apparent in the shibuya arc!

if we were to look at his actions (not surface-level attitude!) throughout the story, chapter 261 included, gojo has never done anything that isn't aligned with the protagonists' big-picture ideology. looking at it more abstractly, if we were to frame the major clashing ideologies in jjk on a "morality" spectrum with "good" on one end and "bad" on the other ("good" being analogous to the protagonists and "bad," the antagonists), then he'd be a relatively "good" person. he's never really been an ambiguous guy, i'd say. just emotionally constipated.

i think he could be compared to yuuji, yea! they both have this crippling tendency to place blame wholly on themselves. but i guess compared to yuuji, gojo is a very "do first, feel later" type of guy and he often compartmentalizes to operate. he's got the world on his shoulders—there's no time to think about what that means for himself, only for what it means for the world. alas, jujutsu's atlas has fallen. but yea! thanks for asking!

[somethingclevermahogony]

Worldbuilding in Five

I was tagged by @kaylinalexanderbooks ! Thank you!

So last time I introduced you all to Labisa, the birthplace of Ninma and where Narul spent most of his early life (he was actually born in the city of Syshlum). For this round I will introduce you to the birthplace of Ninma's cousin, Akard.

The City of Nashawey, the Jewel of the Putla.

I hope y'all are ready for a lot of lore dumping, this is more a history of Apuna as a whole rather than just Nashawey.

Nashawey (Apunian Nashases = Royal name, Wey = City/Village) is the largest city in both the land of Apuna and the entire continent of Pyritia. Its population is roughly equivalent to that of Labisa in Kishetal, though the city itself is less densely populated and covers a far larger area. The city sits at the southern edge of the Putla Delta, where the great river forks into Dja, Wadi, and Bus. The fertile and reliable nature of the Putla has allowed Nashawey and by extension the kingdom of Apuna to retain a level of prosperity and stability unmatched among the other cultures of the Green Sea. A Fapacha has ruled from the throne of Nashawey, or else from one of the neighboring cities, uninterrupted for approximately 4,300 years (save for a 30 year interruption in which a Namutian successfully seized the Apunian throne, the Namutian Dynasty has been almost entirely erased from all records and history), representing the reigns of 223 rulers (189 Men, 34 Women).

The Apunians are among the oldest civilizations in the world and their origins are linked to the confluence of several prehistoric populations.

After the events of the Calamity and the subsequent destruction of 92% of all human life and the complete destruction of all non-subterranean settlements, most surviving humans dwelled within the mountain sanctuaries of a number of kindly spirits over a period of roughly 300-500 years.

The Apunian culture has roots in three of these mountain populations, the Red Cedars, The Babics, and The Pyrians in addition to several southern Pyritian populations. This also means that the Apunians are distantly related to not only their Pyrian neighbors but also the original inhabitants of the Kishic Peninsula.

The first people to inhabit the land that would later become Apuna were primarily hunter-gathers. These tribes and bands were highly spiritual and interacted regularly with spirits and had dealings with the various beasts and monstrosities which shared their environment. At that time the region was far more lush than it now is, and supported great herds of fauna and a startling array of plant life. It is in this era that the first inklings of the later Apunian medicinal, cosmetic, and potion-making tradition were developed. Climatic changes gradually dried up the plains and marshes of northern Pyritia, in time forming the sweeping Kusr Desert.

These changes forced the gradual separation of the Hunter-Gathers into distinct groups. The Peri peoples traveled west, settling on the strip of land between the Pyrian Mountains and the Green Sea Coast, they are the ancestors of the modern Pyrian tribes.

Others ventured south mixing with southern populations, either embracing a desert lifestyle or settling along the eastern plains and coast of Pyritia, these groups, collectively called the Namutians and Aguru.

A small group took to the sea, settling on the island of Knosh.

The last and largest group settled on the banks of the Putla River, where the verdant environment of the Pre-Desert era was preserved. These Proto-Apunians quickly adopted an agricultural lifestyle, forming some of the first wide-scale settlements in the Green Sea Region.

These Proto-Apunians were composed of four distinct kingdoms or "Namu", each ruling one branch of the Putla; these branches now bear their names; Dja, Wadi, Bus, and Putla.

Feuds between the rulers (Pachas) of these kingdoms was commonplace. 400 years of near constant warfare and bickering between these lands would end with the imperialistic ambitions of the ruler of Putla, a man by the name of Nabur. Nabur, alongside his beloved son, Nashases, would lead an attack on the other three Namu, with intention of conquering them and thus uniting the Apunian people.

At the Battle of the Fork, Nabur and Nashases clashed against the other three kingdoms, and though outnumbered it is said that Nabur had earned the divine approval of not only the governing spirits of the River but of the Gods themselves. Legend tells how the river itself rose from its bed and swept away the Pachas of the other kingdoms. This story may actually have some grain of truth as it certainly does seem that the Fapacha is closely associated with the spirits of the river, just one source of the throne's great authority.

While victory was won for the Putla it came at a great price. Nashases was slain in the conflict. Heartbroken, Nabur buried his son where he fell, ordering the construction of a massive underground complex. In order to protect his son's body from desecration he then built his own palace atop his grave. The city of Nashawey or the city of Nashases, spread out from there.

Nabur named himself the first Great Pacha or "Fapacha" and dubbed his newly united kingdom, Apuna, which stems from the Apunian word Apna which is roughly translated to "Unity through Duty."

The Fapacha and his line is believed to be divinely ordained and Apunian faith dictates that upon their death, Fapachas will join the divine council held responsible for the judgment of the dead.

The greatest symbol of royal power in Fapacha is the Royal Scepter. Made from meteoric iron, mahogany, gold, and most importantly; Arkodian Bronze, the exact origin of the snake shaped weapon is unclear, that it was first held by the 10th Fapacha, Ankuwet. In addition to being made from such precious materials, the weapon houses a fire spirit, allowing its user to conjure flame at will. It is among the last remnants of an ancient tradition among the peoples of the Green Sea for royalty to pass down magical weapons. This staff gives the Fapacha one of their aliases, The Lord of Fires.

Apunian civilization is almost entirely confined to the shores of the Putla river, with the desert being only very sparsely occupied by nomadic groups.

Following in the tradition of Nashases, Fapachas are renowned for their massive underground tombs, called Djawda. Labyrinth-like mazes carved into the stone of the desert are meant to deter robbers from breaching the tombs. Often these tombs include artificial rivers and depictions of the night sky. Hundreds of workers are required to excavate these huge structures.

Every major city in Apuna contains at least one palace, meant to act as the residence of the Fapacha and his family when visiting. Apunian palaces are relatively small compared to their neighbors to the north, however they are no less luxurious. It is common practice for new Fapacha to dismantle and reconstruct palaces to better suit their own preferences after taking the throne. The grand palace at Nashawey is the one exception. The palace at Nashawey is unique in that it is primarily constructed from stone rather than mudbrick.

The largest structure in Nashawey, is the famed Gateway. This massive structure stretches across the Putla River where it acts as a sort of tollbooth but also as a defensive structure. The Gateway was constructed by the Fapacha Rutamatep five-hundred years before the events of The Testaments of the Green Sea. The gate itself is composed primarily of sandstone and marble with heavy gilding on its columns. Carvings depict various stories and battles from both the Fapacha who ordered its construction and his successors. It is not unusual for Fapacha to have the carvings of their predecessors chiseled away in order to make room for their own pieces. The Gate is the first thing that visitors see upon entering the city.

Nashawey is home to 45 temples, which double as administrative centers, the largest of which is dedicated to the god, Nur. The all male priesthood of Nur, the god of agriculture and the divine seed, are forbidden from marriage or intercourse with one exception; they may marry and sleep with each other. Marriages of the Priests of Nur are treated as religious events, with both priests dressing in the garb of the God.

Apunian fashion is very bright and colorful, most Apunians wear at least one kind of jewelry. Gemstones are very popular in Apuna, especially as a part of jewelry and woven into clothing and hair-beads. Apunians are also the only major power in the Green Sea that regularly utilizes makeup/body paint. Cosmetics (as well as perfumes) are a major industry in Nashawey. Additionally Apuna is renowned for just how much gold it uses and has access to, even poorer Apunians are likely to have at least one golden bauble. It is said that even an Apunian beggar will sparkle in the sunlight. Most clothing in Apuna is made of colored linen, Apunians are famous for just how vibrant their dyes are. Textiles, alongside grain, are the biggest Apunian exports. 

The city lacks the great defensive walls of Kishite cities as in a sense, the desert acts as a wall in and of itself, thus why the Gateway defends the river.

Apuna is famed not only for the skill of its plantbrews, but also its sages. As a result the city of Nashawey has entire districts entirely dedicated to these professions. Apunian potions and medicines are widely viewed as the best in the Green Sea.

Aside from the palace the city is divided into 45 separate neighborhoods or districts, each of these districts is constructed around a temple/administrative center to which taxes are distributed. 

Tagging @illarian-rambling , @wylanzahn , @roach-pizza , @treesandwords , @mk-writes-stuff , @americanfemcel , and @abalonetea

[whyisthereacentaur]

Modern Monsters 7: Frankenstein’s Monster

Another inspired by @purrlockholmesbooks’s request!

Real life got VERY busy this week, plus my mind just kept spawning lore for this guy and his creator, so when I sat down to write it, the ideas were getting in each other’s way like the Three Stooges in a doorway. Then I sat down to put it all in order for a post last night and fell asleep. Sorry >_<

Onwards!

Having existed for over 200 years, and the vast majority of that with a much less vocal conscience than he first started out with, Victor (last name dependent on which alias he was using at the time) created more than one monster.

After his original Creature resurrected Victor Frankenstein, only to effectively say, “Dad, I’m sorry about all of that, but seriously - never contact me again,” the doctor was left alone and lonely. He argued with himself about the ethical implications of what he might be putting any new creation through, as well as what he might unleash upon the world with its birth, as his knowledge and technological capabilities had only grown since then.

That only lasted about ten minutes before he moved on and started on his next project anyway.

All told, over the years, Victor’s built quite a dynasty. Literally. He never remembers exactly how many children he has, even though each one from the second onwards lived with him for at least a few years before striking out on their own. Their cohabitation was necessary for him to collect data on the relative success of each experiment, requiring lots of physical and mental testing and direct, extensive comparison of each against their siblings, which he would usually record by dictation in his test subject’s presence.

Victor is never sure why his children don’t seem to want to speak to him much.

The only one currently in very regular contact is the youngest, who Victor sacrificed some of his own tissue to build. Egotist that Victor is, this one is his very best attempt at a superhuman (so far) - a bit of cloning, a dash of modern prosthetics principles, a lot of gene manipulation, and a solid base of Victor’s own techniques have created a passably human creature with some hidden talents.

Victor’s parenting, if it can be called that, has created a passably functioning young adult with severe anxiety, people-pleasing tendencies, and self-worth issues. All the stress does make a person a bit scatty - he’d forget his head if it wasn’t screwed on, so he tries not to switch that particular body part around too often.

He does share his father’s love of knowledge for its own sake, and so has spent several years in his chosen university. He has changed his mind on what, exactly, he should focus his research on almost as often as he has switched up his detachable body parts. And he’s done that often, since Victor sent him off with a variety to choose from. University and the internet have allowed him to gather a circle of like-minded close friends, who would all tell you he is such a sweetheart; the type to give you the shirt off his back, or a kidney, if he thought you had the slightest need. He hasn’t mentioned his ability to regenerate entire organs to them just yet, though.

He donates at the same university hospital his dad works at, since his dad’s dedicated shifty-business team can be trusted to keep his real medical records under wraps and his real name off any “posthumous” donations.

His dad liked the idea of naming at least one of his children Frankie Stone, what with the Frankenstein name being impossible to use openly and the bloodline being otherwise dead. However, university is a time to reinvent oneself, and our student prefers to go by his middle name now.

He’s just always liked the sound of Shelley as a nickname.

~~~

Organ donor cards, understandably, don’t usually have loyalty stamps. One of the nicer shifty-business nurses presented Shelley with the Frankensteinian organ donor register/cafe loyalty scheme card monstrosity pictured here.

It could just be a bad photo, but I do like the bit of trivia that the monster in the book actually had yellowed skin rather than the green we now think of as traditional, so if you feel like Shelley has a bit of a sallow tint, I leave it to you to decide.

This was a “simple” illustration that took forEVERRRRR to sort out. I’m still figuring out half the tools on this app. Just pretend he takes really good care of this card since I didn’t have the energy left to make it look appropriately weathered.

~~~

If you read this far: thank you and hope you enjoyed it! I have one more instalment planned featuring Shelley and his dad, which will hopefully go up sometime in the next few days.

Oíche Shamhna shona daiobh!

Happy Halloween!

~~~

Modern Monsters series

Modern Monsters 1: Dullahan

Modern Monsters 2: Kelpie

Modern Monsters 3: Kuchisake-onna

Modern Monsters 4: Cuca

Modern Monsters 5: Vampire

Modern Monsters 6: Dr Frankenstein

Modern Monsters 7: Frankenstein’s Monster

Modern Monsters bonus: Frankenstein, Monster

Modern Monsters 8: The Scissorman

Modern Monsters 9: Lesser Dragon (Dragonet)

[sepublic]

Editaurus is someone who flips back and forth between talking hot shit about her own talent —and actually being able to back up her claims— as well as being her greatest critic. She's an artist after all, a designer; She's obsessed with improvement and perfectly capturing her vision. She helps fund programs to make chimera casting more accessible, not just because she knows from herself that a great caster can come from anywhere; But also, uplifting others can result in rivals who can sharpen Ed's skills like a whetstone, keep her on her toes all the time. She has no desire to be complacent, nor a big fish in a small pond; She wants to reign in a thriving ocean.

So she'll critique her own perfectly-suitable chimeras; She'll create a deeply horrific monstrosity that gets the job done, and Majikus will praise Editaurus' work. But then she'll brush aside the compliment (perhaps being a tad demeaning in doing so) by explaining how this chimera could've been soooo much better, certain aspects of it are clumsy and inefficient, its back muscles are lacking and weak.

Majikus really doesn't care, she insists that if it gets the job done, then it does. But Editaurus loathes cutting corners and isn't in the profession just for function, but aesthetic as well. She's not a big fan of having to churn out quantity over quality, and would prefer to spend extra time obsessing over every minute detail in a recipe in order to perfect it; This is of course not efficient for Majikus' agendas, and she'll have to strong-arm Editaurus into remembering who's leader of the warlocks for good reason. Ed will feel regret over a project coming out rushed and incomplete, and remind herself to revisit that recipe in the future to do it the justice it deserves.

The chimeras ARE Editaurus' magic; In a way, they're her spells. So every time the Monster Fighters take on a chimera, it's like they're fighting Editaurus herself in a very long-distance way. She's like Viracious that way; You need to consider a magician's summons and creations as part of their magical resume and feats. Such constructs ARE manifestations of their power, as much as any fireball or barrier spell would be. And so you wouldn't truly sum up, nor reflect, a magician's power without their armies taken into consideration, because it's their magic spread thin, invested into one of many forms.

In terms of individual combat, Editaurus might be less magical and more physical, making her akin to her partner Megarus; Her body is a chimera as well, so it can be quite fast and lethal. She might have summoning magic as well to bring forth her chimeras; I do want her magical fighting style to be distinct enough, she's always been one to care about individual identity. Maybe Editaurus is a blend of Viracious' long-distance combat via minions, and Megarus' on-hands approach. What Ed may apparently lack in magical attacks, she makes up for in her magic being the chimeras she creates, and has made herself into; Which could also be comparable to Kisonus transforming herself routinely by applying her magic to herself.

But this might all be fitting; Editaurus is a chimera caster, meaning she puts together different unlike parts to create a whole greater than the sum of its parts. Her own name is a chimera too, referencing the fusions that are the Minotaur or Centaur, plus the word ‘Edit’ to signify her artistic touch. So to pull from other Warlocks' styles could be appropriate; I can also see Majikus being a jack of all trades in a similar style, which tracks with Editaurus considering herself a viable candidate for leader, and thus rival to Maj. She IS responsible for the main bulk of the Warlocks' army through her chimeras, so it'd be fitting if the leader had creation and mastery over the grunts as a whole, and leading the Warlocks is an extension of that power. That’s how Editaurus would justify it, anyway.

[werepaladin]

ok youre activating my trap card rn. youre stuck here with me until im done.

that being said. im in no waying saying any of my headcanons are canon. this just how i personally want to write/interpret him, regardless of the text of the games. disclaimer out of the way, lets go.

first off, his deal with his patron. his powers are like, the central part of his character. in my headcanons, he got his powers through undergoing a ritual to steal an aspect of an eldritch entity known as the Black Beast. now like most eldritch horrors, the Black Beast is a nearly infinite creature. It represents darkness & cold, cruel entropy. The Shamblers are Its spawn, an extension of It, but far weaker than their parent.

now, how he got them is less important than the ramifications of doing so. the Black Beast is very hateful towards humans and their ilk, seeing them as less than insects compared to Its power. anyone who wasn't prepared to have the ire of this monstrosity would most likely be taken over/go insane/die, but Alhazred was prepared. the skull and candle is very important in this. not only does he use it as a channel for the magic, but the light of the candle basically represents his life. the light repels the Black Beast, and It can't extinguish it no matter how hard It tries. whilst the candle burns, he lives. this also extends his natural lifespan significantly. i like to think hes in his mid 70s, though he looks more like hes in his 40s.

but that only really protects him physically. the Black Beast resides within his mind now, but Alhazred is adept at building mental walls to keep it from influencing his mind. there are multiple quotes from him that reference it "prowling" in his mind, searching for any kind of weakness.

with that context, this helps explain my other headcanons. as someone who cannot allow any mental weakness, lest a horrific eldritch monster take over his mind, that kind of changes a persons outlook on other people and their relationships with them.

Alhazred is forced into a life thats very lonely. he can't bond with people, at risk that the Beast might try to use it against him. as such, he has a pretty aloof attitude to other people. i wouldn't describe him as outright cruel for the most part, but uncaring or ambivilent is a much better word. to him, its simply the more logical answer to not care. it protects him from the Beast, and it doesn't waste his time.

that being said, he isn't a robot or something. he can still feel emotions and care for other people, but hes making the active choice to avoid or repress them to the point that he wouldn't consider them a problem. either that, or he tries to rationalise why he could bond with someone.

for example, befriending someone big and strong with a shield who's capable of defending him when a fish man is trying to stab him is just a logical choice. if made to choose between Alhazred and someone else to protect, wouldn't they want to protect the person they're more fond of?

that being said, he would much rather just not have to bond with people. i imagine for the most part he'd travel from place to place, trying to gather more occult information where possible. he'd avoid sticking around in one place for very long, or staying with the same people, but its kind of hard to that when the place of great occult significance right below a tiny lil hamlet with like 30 people in it at most.

also hes transgender and used wyrd reconstruction to give himself top surgery. fight me.

one of these days i'll post my alhazred headcanons. maybe.

[number5theboy]

Favorite song montages/music scenes?

Oooohhhhh, love this. Because I’m on a roll, I made this another list, a top ten one, just so I don’t go overboard. I really looked at this as the scenes as a whole, rather than me liking the song or the scene individually. There are songs from the soundtrack that I love way more than some on this list, but didn’t think that they worked as well with the scene they’re in as the ones that did make the list. Without further ado:

10. I’m a Man (S2E2) - Diego & Reginald Fight

I just like how the aesthetics of this fight and the vibes of the song play perfectly together. It’s a more laid-back song than most fight scenes we get, and the line ‘I’m a man, yes I am, and I can’t help but love you so’ played over Reginald, who is demonstrably not a man and definitely doesn’t love Diego gives it such an almost sarcastic tone, like Reginald is toying with Diego.

9. Exit Music (For a Film) (S1E7) / All Die Young (S1E9) / Hello (S2E5) - Group Montages of Sadness and Change

I couldn’t decide between these three, because they all basically fulfill the same function in the narrative, showcasing different characters at low or turning points, and the mood of each song just hits perfectly. The way ‘Exit Music’ ramps up to Vanya’s guilt over killing and the confirmation that Leonard is Harold Jenkins. How ‘All Die Young’ is upbeat yet melancholic as nobody but Vanya truly is at their lowest at that moment, but you feel the arrow being drawn to the inevitable conclusion to this whole mess. And ‘Hello’ hit so much harder than it had any right to, it have the Swedes some dimension, but also the interplay of music with the funeral and the siblings’ big decisions, Vanya trying to confess to Sissy, Klaus going back to his cult, Allison telling Ray the truth, Diego and Luther burying the hatchet. It’s the perfect mood for it all, and the idea to use a Swedish cover is absolutely brilliant by the music department.

8. Soul Kitchen (S1E6) - Klaus & Dave in Vietnam

The Doors and Vietnam of course perfectly fits, but using the Doors to soundtrack a gay Vietnam romance??? Awesome. I’m usually someone with an ear for lyrics rather than the music, because I just know more about it, so I like it when the lyrics match up, but in this case, I don’t know any of the lyrics. I just like the mood the music creates. It’s a club in Vietnam and they’re not dancing to a club song. I like the rift between image and sound, and the sound still creates such a charged yet comfortable atmosphere.

7. In the Heat of the Moment (S1E5) - Five’s life in the apocalypse through the years 

The fact that Noel Gallagher’s snooty singing and borderline meaningless lyrics fit this scene so perfectly is a minor miracle, but they do. The na na na nas coming in with the image after the counting in before the song quiets down just to soar again over Five’s struggles. And it’s also not a song that sounds strong, that is technically perfect, it never quite reaches grandeur, and I don’t know why the atmosphere it creates goes so hand in hand with decades in an apocalyptic wasteland. And the irony of a song about having someone by your side over excruciating loneliness. Also the lyric ‘you better learn to fly ‘cause they’re gonna point you up at sky’ objectively goes harder than Noel Gallagher lyrics should.

6. Stormy Weather (S1E8) - Allison drives through the rain to find Vanya, haunted by her past actions and flashes back to when she rumoured her daughter

It’s just the perfect soundtrack to Allison’s backstory with her powers, and the fact that it’s sung by Emmy Raver-Lampman herself adds a dimension to it. The entire scene is centered around her voice, you hear her past rumours, you see her tell a story to Claire, then rumour her, and she is singing in the background. It intertwines scene and soundtrack on another level, and I love it. The combination of the sad lyrics but the more upbeat instrumentation, and how they carry into her memory........so good.

5. Shingaling (S1E4) / Pepper (S2E8) - Drug Trip Scenes

TUA has two scenes where people are tripping on drugs, and I cannot choose which one I like more. The mood for weed chocolate vs the consciousness-warping FBI drugs is so drastically different but the song choices are so perfect for both. Hazel and Cha-Cha dancing high off their asses to Shingaling, which is a chill but fun song as they commit arson, coupled with that green colouring and fun shot set-ups. Truly exquisite. Vanya getting nightmare visions in the FBI building, with the weird, disconcerting energy and lyrics of Pepper blasting, and the second-best use of scene switch at the drop that this show has pulled off this far. Stupendous.

4. Run Boy Run (S1E2) / Never Tear Us Apart (S1E2) - Five pushes his powers and lands himself in the apocalypse, where he finds his siblings’ bodies

These scenes are SO good. So good, and it’s because the music is the driving force of the emotion in that moment. Run Boy Run has exuberant energy to underline Five’s excitement as he’s testing out his powers, but it’s also somber and dark and swells at the chorus, which leads to the best scene-switch at a song’s drop in the show. The moment where Five lands in the apocalypse as the chorus becomes grand and he looks around, panicked, and when he runs frantically back to the Academy with the claps and percussion in the background? I get chills every time, and the lyrics make it, I think, the definite Five song as it pertains to his character, his characterisation, his arc, as running, in many different interpretations, is one of the key themes to Five for the entire show. The relatively short scenes really hammers in the tragedy of Five being ripped from his home at such a young age, and it gets underlined with Never Tear Us Apart. I put it with Run Boy Run because they fit together, but Never Tear Us Apart is heart-wrenching in itself. Just the imagine of Five searching through the rubble for his siblings, his small frame stumbling through the ruins, with Paloma Faith giving it her all in the soundtrack, and this heavy bass really banging us over the head with the heaviness of the situation. It’s great and sad and both scenes are carried as much by the soundtrack as they are though Aidan Gallagher’s acting.

3. The Phantom of the Opera Medley (S1E1) / I Think We’re Alone Now (S1E1) / Sister of Pearl (S2E7) - Character-establishing Montages

I am a sucker for this trope, of characters being characterised through a song playing, and TUA pulls it off so well. Phantom of the Opera shows you what the siblings do and where they are at in their lives perfectly, telling you so much with so little. It’s a great introduction and using the Phantom of the Opera, with the idea of Vanya being the phantom, the mysterious musician constantly belittled and underestimated (this is generalised, very much so, but it fits) that lashes out at some point because of the abuse they suffered, is genius also because it combines different themes that you can set the Hargreeves to. I Think We’re Alone Now is about personalities, of who these siblings are if nobody’s watching. I don’t think I need to sing its praises, the scene has become iconic for a reason, it’s memorable and creative. And the music choice, a pop song that they could have listened in their youth, with lyrics that are eerily prophetic, is so good. And Sister of Pearl is the long-awaited addition that introduces Ben’s character, and the music is sweet and fun and him messing around in the world, all giddy and a little goofy, fits with the whole theme of dancing like no one is watching. All three are so amazing at characterising the different Hargreeves.

2. Istanbul (Not Constantinople) (S1E1) - Five fights the Commission agents at Griddy’s

Okay, but what is better than a musical sequence that characterises a sibling? A musical sequence that characterises a sibling that’s also a fight scene! I’m not going to be long about this one, because I wrote 500 words on why I think Istanbul (Not Constantinople) is a brilliant scene just yesterday, you can find it here if you scroll for a bit. It hits so many sweet spots. It re-contextualises Five and adds several dimensions to him. The fight scene is brutal but the music is happy and fun. The song is thematically relevant to the scene and the character and what this scene is trying to accomplish, namely making clear that this kid, who looks like he did at age 13, is not the same as he was, and never will be. Again, go to that other post, I couldn’t stop gushing about how excellent this sequence is, because I really love it, but Season 2 brought along another that I love even more.

1. The Order of Death (S2E6) - Five arrives at the address Reginald sent them, and watches on as his siblings slowly join him one after one

I genuinely don’t know why this one resonated with me so much. I just like the cold but melodic 80s synth together with the cinematography. Every single shot is so good, Five looking up at the looming skyscraper, him climbing the stairs, pushing the button with the use of negative space to show his loneliness, until he gets into the elevator where his siblings come to him. And the music is so fitting, for the scene, but also for Five as a character, it’s a song that works well for him. The rhythmic thumping of ‘this is what you want, this is what you get, this is what you want, this is what you get’ is so dark at second viewing, because this is what Five wants: to talk to Reginald, with the support of his siblings. And what is it he gets? What is the consequence of his actions? His existence gets wiped from history. The music is tense, in anticipation of what comes next, and fits perfectly over these wide establishing shots and their harsh lighting. I can’t pinpoint why I like The Order of Death more than any other musical sequence in the show, but I do. It is such a small, yet perfectly executed scene, and it hits some emotion within me, even though I can’t really articulate which one it is. Intrigue, probably, mixed with dread and a hint of sadness because now I know how this enterprise ends, and it’s not well.

[eccentric-nucleus]

so back in the day i read HPMOR, right? like many people. and as it went on (& yudkowsky kept talking about his writing process on tumblr) it became more and more clear that this was fiction approached from an angle i had never really considered before. i had been vaguely aware of places like the spacebattles forum or the dark lord potter forum, where apparently people wrote stories that were mostly just a long-form way to debate "would the USS Enterprise win against a star trek star destroyer", or whatever. yudkowsky kept saying wild things like "the point of this scene is to vicariously enjoy somebody solving a problem" or "all characters should always do smart things so the reader doesn't get frustrated with them" or "i wanted to add a short arc where this character doesn't instantly solve all his problems but i was worried it would alienate the reader". (see also.) just like, expressing this conceptualization that the point of fiction was to... write a character stomping through a little fake world going from victory to victory so that the reader could enjoy the vicarious glow of having a hard problem presented to them and then immediately resolved. how smart you are for following the line of thought of the main character, who did this smart thing!!

so that was very weird, but it was mostly a singular kind of weirdness. another weird, out-of-touch artifact from the rationalists, like roko's basilisk but harry potter fanfiction instead.

anyway a while back i stumbled across "Mother of Learning", and i think my initial response to it was 'this is less a story with a plot and more a series of obstacles that are presented to the main character to be sequentially overcome'. there was a furry webcomic years ago that was a calvin & hobbes knockoff -- small child, stuffed animal companion who became alive when they were alone, whimsy, etc -- only where calvin & hobbes left the premise unstated, this comic, roughly 30 strips in, had a whole plot explaining: okay so these are a special kind of magical creature that bonds with children. in this metaphor susie's mr. bun is also a magical creature. eventually they start going on adventures together. my overall thought was like, oh i guess i was assuming this was a narrative framing device structured around the themes of the work, but actually this was all meant to be fully diagetic and fully explained as part of the work's "worldbuilding".

anyway mother of learning is like that but for groundhog day. the time loop isn't an unexplained device used to inspect a character through a lens, it's a dragon ball-style training chamber. there are "plot developments" as more information is revealed, but all of that takes a back seat to extensively and exhaustively describing every ability and technique that the main character learns and how they use them to be more powerful. mother of learning is 800,000 words long. the time loop is because they're actually duplicates of the 'real people', in a pocket universe constructed inside of an eldrich monstrosity that was designed to be used every x years by some kind of fated hero to keep it sealed. the main character has to escape partly to make sure some evil cultists don't unseal some stuff, but mostly so he doesn't lose all his experience gains.

anyway so reading that brought me to royal road. (i've always found the name very funny since my main familiarity with the term is the phrase "there is no royal road to geometry - euclid", aka there is no shortcut to learning something; you always have to put in the hard struggle of comprehension. it's actually named after... something from a light novel or something? it used to be a fan forum for a specific work before branching out into a publishing platform.) anyway it's a place to post stuff, like fanfiction.net or fictionpress or whatever. there is a strong genre constraint: they mostly want to hear about their protagonists getting endlessly more and more powerful, and sometimes collecting a harem of sexy women. it's for that kind of fiction. reading a few stories there was very illuminating, in that finally i could place HPMOR in a genre: that of the 'progression fantasy', a profoundly self-indulgent and formulaic genre that's mostly just an action story with a lot of the bits stripped away so they can describe how much more powerful the protagonist is getting. a subgenre of this is the 'litrpg', which are stories with a diagetic video-game-mechanics layer. people are checking their stats and getting experience from killing monsters and leveling up and all that. a lot of them read like text LPs of videogames that don't exist. where the author is, of course, executing a min-maxed run.

(there's a lot of overlap here between progression fantasies and like, xianxia stories? cultivation stories are generally all progression fantasies, and so there's a lot of overlap thematically.)

anyway so that was kind of a grim awareness of a dark corner of the literary world. this stuff is popular. royal road is pretty aggressively farmed by publishers wanting to license stuff so they can make ebooks or w/e; there are author patreons there that make like, thousands of dollars a month for writing chapter 1394 of "my character with a cool spear levels up more". i've read a bunch of progression fantasies but i wouldn't say i really enjoyed any of them, partly because a lot of them are really bad at like... constructing a narrative with any kind of stakes. it's all gonna be jettisoned away in favor of talking more about level ups. it is actually almost exactly the experience of grinding for levels in an RPG: it's not really fun, but it can be engaging in the moment, and also you get to see a number go up, so that's like a reward.

(i started writing one of my own as a writing exercise b/c i wanted to try some short-paced serial work that wasn't porn, and it shot up to uh #40 top-rated on the entire site. it was in the top 10 for a few days. i have some complicated feelings about that.)

recently, i've been reading a lot of, uh, gay incest teenage mutant ninja turtles fanfiction. a lot of it is incredibly overwrought. 200k words of characters pining guiltily over each other! soap opera antics with miscommunications and secrets! genre cliches piled up in a big heap and remixed! and like, fanfic as a genre can be real formulaic too, right? a lot of people who read&write fanfic don't read much else, and there's absolutely a 'house style' for most fanfic. but when i read fanfic i get the sense that the authors are, you know, aware of some literary conventions, of the various aspects that make up a story, and they're struggling to convey concepts and themes. apparently i'm responsible for inspiring somebody to write what i think is the only sincere donkey/shrek porn fanfic in existence, and personally i think that porn fanfic has a million times the literary and artistic merit as chapter 1400 of randitly fucking ghosthound, because porn, overwrought incest soap opera dramas, is at least saying something about the nature of human desire, whereas most progression fantasy stuff is an utterly self-absorbed thesis on "writing somebody cool and powerful is escapism so i can feel cool & powerful", stretched out to a million words.

like i guess 'i want to feel powerful' is an expression of human desire but it's a particularly flat one. i think a lot about that bit in dead zones of the imagination:

Violence’s capacity to allow arbitrary decisions, and thus to avoid the kind of debate, clarification, and renegotiation typical of more egalitarian social relations, is obviously what allows its victims to see procedures created on the basis of violence as stupid or unreasonable. One might say, those relying on the fear of force are not obliged to engage in a lot of interpretative labor, and thus, generally speaking, do not.

[...]

To be more precise: violence may well be the only form of human action by which it is possible to have relatively predictable effects on the actions of a person about whom you understand nothing. Pretty much any other way one might try to influence another’s actions, one at least has to have some idea who they think they are, who they think you are, what they might want out of the situation, and what their aversions and proclivities are. Hit them over the head hard enough and all of this becomes irrelevant.

a fantasy of having power is, i think, fundamentally a fantasy of never having to know anything you don't want to, of never having to deal with the consequences of your actions. i feel it's a particularly grim thing to enshrine into a millon-word epic.

anyway, hi, i'm back on tumblr, i guess. who can say if this will last. i'm still not happy about the porn ban! for reasons hopefully partially explained by the whole bit about porn above. also the increasing sidelining of custom layouts in favor of a uniform interface. sadly even with that it seems like tumblr is basically the only well-travelled social media site that's not a total algorithmic nightmare, although the first thing i did when i remade this account was to go into the settings and turn off like a dozen algorithmic switches that were all defaulted to 'yes'.

i ended up moving cross-country during the peak of covid b/c my former housemate started having screaming panic attacks literally any time somebody stepped outside the house (literally literally, not emphatically literally). i would not recommend it. now i live somewhere where 'fire' is a season, which is introducing new complications to my life. we'll see how things go from here.

oh yeah, also my icon has more points now. i leveled up V:

[kaiwewi]

May I please request a part 2 of guilty conscionse? I loved it! Preferably one where hero finally breaks and as villain is trying to save them, they are crying and begging them not to hurt them.

Thank you for the request, I hope you'll like it! Unfortunately (for the hero mostly), there won't be any rescue attempts in this one yet. But we'll get there eventually xD

Guilty Conscience #2

[Masterlist: Renegade Rescue Squad] [Part 1]

Synopsis: neither the little hero nor Villain are enjoying their stay in Other Villain's torture dungeon.

tw: whump, captivity, talk about torture, needles

“You’re quite right, birdie,” Other Villain said with a shrug. They’d put the magnets back into a pocket of their lab coat. “A less fatal approach is indeed preferable. I should learn to not be so wasteful; such beautiful specimens are hard to come by.”

Villain suppressed the furious urge to scream.

The hero was a person.

And what a person they were – fuelled by foolish hope and ardent convictions, a daredevil spirit in a teenager’s body. Calling them a specimen… Other Villain was a sadistic monstrosity, even more so for thinking themself a scientist.

“We do have more sustainable options.” A smirk spread on Other Villain's face. This psychopath Villain had so recklessly allied himself with was circling the little hero again. Prowling. Assessing. Scrutinising. “We can take our time, get to know each other. I could familiarise you with my rather extensive collection of bacteria colonies, all stored in adorable little Petri dishes. One of my favourite hobbies – my pride and joy.”

The hero looked calmer than they should be. How could they listen to this and remain sane? The gleam in Other Villain’s eyes alone made Villain nauseous enough as it was and he wasn’t even on the receiving end of their attention.

He shouldn't be here. This entire alliance had been an enormous mistake, but he only had himself to blame. He’d been aware of his colleague’s reputation from the start. But since this was going to be just a temporary team up, he hadn’t though… well.

He hadn’t thought.

Oh, how convenient it had been to turn a blind eye to tales of horror when he hadn’t yet had to witness any such atrocities in person, when the likelihood of taking prisoners during their limited time working together had seemed so slim, when Other Villain hadn’t expected him to stand by and watch as they ripped apart a living breathing human being.

And if he told them to stop, would he be next? – Possibly.

He cursed silently.

The hero started squirming in their bonds with renewed vigour when Other Villain stepped closer and loomed over them, gleefully jabbing a finger into the hero’s upper arm. Other Villain started listing bacteria they could infect their poor victim with and instruments they might use to accomplish the task.

“Now, a subcutaneous injection with so-called ‘flesh-eating’ bacteria…”

Villain had stopped listening. He was observing the rise and fall of the hero’s chest, keeping count, calculating. Their respiratory rate was definitely above 25 breaths per minute. Elevated. Perhaps close to hyperventilation, though the breathing seemed too shallow. Their pulse was probably—

“No!” the little hero shrieked.

Other Villain had produced a syringe with a clear liquid from their pocket and was trailing the needle tip down their trembling captive’s arm, taunting.

The hero shook their head. “No, no, no, don’t…”

“Not to worry,” Other Villain said, their tone a mockery of reassurance, “it’s going to be just fine. While an untreated infection might result in your death within a week or so, if you start begging early enough – and trust me, you will – I could still save you with antibiotics. For the right price.” They smiled, self-satisfied and cruel. “This method has the additional advantage of being repeatable.”

The hero looked about ready to faint or spiral into mindless panic. One more ghastly tale or mention of bacterial infections might push the poor thing over the edge for good. Yet somehow, they appeared to have retained a modicum of self-possession, because even now they managed to narrow their eyes and glare.

“Why are you like this?” they asked, and the wobble in their voice did not undermine the venom in their tone, though tears had begun to roll down their cheeks. “You’re seriously screwed in the head, you fucking freak.”

“I think” – Other Villain cackled – “you might have a point there.”

They thrust the needle into the hero’s arm.

[Part 3]

[gobbinhalfglass]

It is done! This one took awhile but after extensive testing and triple-digit numbers of adjustments, it is ready to go! The Circle of Chimera druid! This one’s a long post but you’ll see why shortly into the class features.

Chimera Circle Druid

Lore: The Circle of Chimera is considered a radical sect by many druids. They believe most druids mistakenly define “natural” far too strictly, excluding many creatures born from or adapted to natural magic and extraplanar beings. This Circle sees what others often call monstrosities as results of natural laws that transcend their home plane; natural laws of magic and planar intersection. They often believe theirs is true druidic craft, where others let themselves be kept from truth by stuffy traditions and outdated ideas.

2nd level feature: Combat Wild Shape

When you choose this circle at 2nd level, you gain the ability to use Wild Shape on your turn as a bonus action. Additionally, you may use a bonus action to expend a spell slot and regain 1d8 hit points per level of spell slot spent.

2nd Level feature: Embrace the Monstrous

Your circle defines nature less narrowly than most, and this is reflected in your Wild Shapes. Starting at 2nd level, you can use your Wild Shape to transform into a beast or monstrosity with a challenge rating up to 1/4 your Druid level, rounded down. (You ignore the maximum CR column of the Beast Shapes table, but must abide by the other limitations there.) You cannot transform into beasts or monstrosities with a CR higher than 3 this way.

6th level feature: Chimeric Forms

Starting at 6th level, you learn to harness Chimeric Essence to enhance your Wild Shape. You learn two Chimeric Essences from the Chimeric Essence list detailed at the end of the subclass description.

When you use your Wild Shape, you may choose one of your known Chimeric Essences and gain its abilities for as long as you remain in that form. You cannot benefit from the same essence more than once by selecting it multiple times. You learn two more Chimeric Essences at 8th, 10th, 12th and 14th level.

You may use up to two Essences at once at 10th level and up to three Essences at once at 14th level.

10th: Ambulatory Evolution

Starting at 10th level, you gain the ability to grant 30 ft climb speed, 30ft fly speed or 30 ft swim speed to yourself for one hour. This can be achieved by growing wings, hard claws, a magnetic field, and more as defined by you at the time you use this feature. This feature may only be used once, and you regain expended uses when you finish a long or short rest.

14th: Essence Mastery

At 14th level, whenever you finish a long rest, you may select one Chimeric Essence you know. You gain the benefits of that essence until you finish another long rest. This does not count against your number of Chimeric Essences used.

Chimeric Essence Options

Scorpion’s Sting

- From the base of your spine grows a plated tail ending in a venomous stinger, replacing any other tails you may have. As an action, you make a simple melee weapon attack with reach for 1d4 Piercing damage and 1d8 Poison damage. On a hit, the target must make a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or be poisoned for one minute.

Phasebeast’s Tendrils

- From your back grow several whiplike tentacles like those of phasebeasts. As a bonus action, you may make up to two simple melee weapon attacks with reach for 1d4 Slashing damage each against different targets.

Dragon’s Breath

- Choose Fire, Cold, Acid, Poison, or Lightning. One time as an action you may expel a 30 foot cone of your chosen element as damaging dragon’s breath. Each creature in the area must make a Dexterity saving throw against your spell save DC. They take 4d6 damage of your chosen element on a failed save, or half as much on a successful save. At the start of each of your turns, roll a d6. On a 5 or 6, you regain an expended use of this feature.

Unbridled Might

- You enhance your own musculature, gaining +2 to your Strength score.

Untamed Agility

- You enhance your own reflexes, gaining a +2 to your Dexterity score.

Wild Speed

- You boost your own metabolism, gaining +10 walk speed.

Mighty Roar

- Your vocal chords become capable of a deafening roar. As a bonus action, you may let loose a ground-shaking vocalization. All creatures within 30 feet of you must make a Wisdom saving throw against your spell save DC or become Frightened of you for one minute.

Scale Plates

- You cover your exterior in thickly layered scales for added defense, gaining +2 to your Armor Class.

Mimic’s Tongue

- You gain a precise tongue and perfect audio memory, allowing you to mimic any word, phrase or sound you have heard in the same voice or manner in which you originally heard it.

Chameleon Hide

- You gain the ability to change your skin or hide’s color for camouflage, gaining advantage on all Stealth checks.

Beastly Vitality

- You regain 1d12 hit points at the start of each of your turns unless you have taken Fire damage since your last turn.

Insulating Fur

- You gain a fluffy coat of fur, insulating you against both hot and cold environments. You do not suffer the normal penalties of prolonged exposure to very hot or very cold surroundings.

Keen Senses

- By increasing the acuity of your sight, smell and hearing, you gain advantage on all Perception checks that use these senses.

Prismatic Skin

- Choose Fire, Cold, Lightning, Acid, Thunder or Radiant. You gain resistance to that damage type.

Colossal Stature

- You increase your size by one size category. (Medium becomes Large, Large becomes Huge, etc.)

Pygmy Stature

- You decrease your size by one size category. (Huge becomes Large, Large becomes Medium, etc.)

Battering Horns

- You grow a pair of sturdy horns on your head. When you move 30 feet or more in a single turn, you may use your bonus action to make a ramming attack for 2d6 Bludgeoning damage. On a hit, the target must make a Strength saving throw against your spell save DC or be knocked prone. Structures such as buildings receive double damage from this ability.

Fae’s Guile

- You cannot be magically Frightened or Charmed.

Hypnotic Eyes

- You shift the colors of your eyes in a mesmerizing manner. As an action, you may project a hypnotic effect in a 30 foot cone in front of you. Creatures that can see your eyes in this area must make a Charisma saving throw against your spell save DC or become Charmed for one minute. Creatures within 5 feet have disadvantage on this save. Creatures charmed this way stand still and become unresponsive to stimuli that is not life threatening. After one minute has passed, creatures affected this way will have no memory of the previous five minutes.

Spider’s Sense

- By sensing currents in the air or water around you, you gain 10 feet of blindsight.

Oxen Fortitude

- By enhancing your stamina and endurance, you gain doubled carry weight.

Hive Mind

- By splitting your own being into many pieces, you may take the form of a swarm of tiny creatures. In this form, you may occupy the same space as another creature and have resistance to nonmagical slashing, bludgeoning and piercing damage.

Vigour’s Wellspring

- By enhancing your vitality, when your hit points are restored by an outside source such as a healing potion or a spell cast by someone else, you gain an additional amount of healing equal to your proficiency modifier.

Boar’s Endurance

- The first time you would drop to 0 hit points, you instead drop to 1. If you drop to 0 hit points after having used this feature, you do not take additional damage when your Wild Shape ends.

Ankheg’s Acid

- You gain the ability to spit corrosive fluid at range. As an action, you may make a simple ranged weapon attack at a target within 15 feet. On a hit, the target takes 3d6 Acid damage. If the target is wearing nonmagical armor, its AC is reduced by 1. If this penalty reaches -5, the armor is destroyed. This attack does an extra 3d6 Acid damage to metal structures.

Kraken’s Tentacles

- From your body sprouts a pair of thick, rubbery tendrils similar to a kraken’s. As an action, you may make a simple melee weapon attack with Reach at a target you can see for 1d10 Bludgeoning damage. On a hit, you may also attempt to grapple the target.

Sharpened Instinct

- By honing your wild-born intuition, you gain advantage on Survival and Nature checks.

[xxcookiecrumbsxx]

Valentine’s Day Wenclair drabble!! Wednesday proves how much better of a Valentine she is than Ajax.

Wednesday was surprised when Enid came back from her date with Ajax seemingly disappointed. She cleared her throat as Enid got ready for bed.

“Did Ajax do something special for your Valentine’s date?”

Enid sighed. “No. He said he forgot it was Valentine’s day. We just had dinner. It was fine, I guess.”

Wednesday frowned a touch more than usual. “Did he at least appreciate the glittery monstrosity you spent all afternoon preparing?”

“No. He said he didn’t want the glitter to get in his food so he hid it underneath his plate, but then he left it there. He didn’t even open it.”

Enid seemed to almost perk up at how Wednesday’s fist clenched in response. “You still can’t hurt him,” she added.

Wednesday sighed. “If you insist. I must at least tell you that even with my limited knowledge of adolescent relationships he seems to be a less than desirable paramour.”

“Yeah. He has his flaws.”

Wednesday stopped the typing she had continued during their conversation thus far. She turned to look at Enid, who turned her head to glance back.

“You deserve better, Enid.”

Enid looked away to hide the tears in her eyes. “Yeah. Maybe I do.”

one year later

Enid came back to the dorm to find her girlfriend of 11 months putting the finishing touches on a fancy dinner, set up on a table in the middle of the room. She gasped quietly, causing Wednesday to turn.

“You’re late. I had hoped to give you time to get dressed, but I had no choice but to plate the food.”

“Sorry, Yoko and I were talking. What’s all this?”

Wednesday stepped closer to her, her heels clicking as she approached. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Did you forget?”

Enid opened and closed her mouth twice before responding. “No, I didn’t forget. I just didn’t know we had plans.”

Wednesday pushed a strand of hair behind Enid’s ear. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I thought you might suspect. It is a holiday, after all. Your favorite one, no less. Besides Christmas.”

“You’re just too good at outdoing all of my expectations.” She leaned forward to kiss Wednesday’s cheek. “What should I wear?”

Wednesday’s eyes moved to a garment bag hanging from Enid’s closet door. Enid grinned wide. “You got me a dress? Babe,” she dragged out the term of endearment. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Wednesday started back towards the table. “You deserve it. What’s the point of a family with money if I can’t spend my extensive allowance on you?”

Enid melted. “Wednesday.”

“Go put it on, the food will only stay warm for so long.”

Enid obliged, taking the garment bag with her int the bathroom. She gasped when she saw it, a dark pink and silky dress with colorful embroidered flowers covering the sleeves and top. She tried not to rush too much through her makeup but was soon making her way back to the table. Wednesday couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

“You look ravishing, mi amor.”

Enid blushed. “Thank you. It’s an absolutely gorgeous dress.”

“I thought you might like it. It’s having the desired effect on me, at least.”

Enid giggled. “Good. And you made dinner?”

Wednesday nodded, lifting the metal cover to reveal a chicken dish.

“I have Thing’s assurance that I haven’t used any unusual ingredients.”

Enid laughed. “Great. It looks delicious.”

After dinner and light conversation, Enid snuck to her side of the room while Wednesday cleared the dishes. When she returned Enid presented her with an envelope.

Wednesday took it with a quirked brow. At Enid’s grin she ripped it open to find a card. An elaborately drawn and intricately colored grayscale bee was inside, along with, in Enid’s careful hand, “Will you bee my Valentine?”

“It’s not as fancy as your stuff, but I hope you still like it.”

Wednesday looked up. “Nonsense. I love it. It’s perfect. And yes, I will be your Valentine if only you will be mine.” She took Enid’s hand to press a kiss to the top of it.

Enid blushed. “I will be your Valentine.”

Wednesday gave a rare grin. “Excellent. I have one more thing for you.”

“You’ve already done so much—“

“Nonsense. It’s nothing fancy.” Wednesday pushed towards Enid a polaroid camera that looked suspiciously familiar.

“Isn’t this mine?”

Wednesday gave a curt nod. “Yes. I am allowing you to take a picture of us together for you to put in the case of your phone. I request you take two.”

Enid’s smile covered her whole face. “You’ll let me take a selfie of us? When we’re all dressed up?”

Wednesday nodded again. “I can’t promise a smile, but if you’d like I will kiss your cheek, so you won’t see the lack thereof.”

“Okay!”

Enid quickly set up the shot, smiling wide while Wednesday pressed a kiss to her cheek. She pressed the button twice. When they came out she handed one to Wednesday, looking closely at her own copy. If you looked close enough you could still see the smallest of smiles on Wednesday’s face.

-

A few days later Enid stopped in her tracks when she opened the dorm room door. There was something new hanging on the wall above where Wednesday was typing at her desk.

“What’s that?”

Before Wednesday could reply Enid approached, finding her Valentine’s card and the photo pressed in a frame. She went quiet for a moment.

“It’s from Valentine’s day. Once we’ve been together for a few years perhaps I’ll get a scrapbook. But for now the wall will do.”

“You…you framed it?”

Wednesday turned to face her, looking slightly confused. “Of course I did. It’s special to me. You made it. I want to see it as often as possible.”

Enid didn’t reply, just leaning down to hold Wednesday’s face and press a slow kiss to her lips.

“You are an excellent Valentine,” she whispered.

Wednesday grinned, her eyes still closed from the kiss. “You’re not so bad yourself.”