#asks and replies

[heart-0f-a-rebel16]

I think in many cases it's not even about a tumblr user wanting to get absolved by some random people, people just long to share their thoughts in some place that they can't otherwise. Seing as it is becoming increasingly more difficult to have deep and meaningful conversations offline, people do it online. So you will have to learn to put up with that. Also, if you're so against it then don't come crying how nobody comments and interacts on this site, when you're actively encouraging people not to. And yes, I agree, people have shitty values and attitudes and lots of content is repetitive and annoying but forcing them to shut up isn't going to change that (and it's not like the "catholic guilt shit" is the only repetitive thing here come on)

hey so do you think it’s appropriate when person on a post about how JKR is using her money to strip away the rights of trans women in the UK starts talking about how much they love Harry Potter and can do death if the artist with it. Do you think they want deep conversation. Do you think with your brain.

[mystxmomo]

What do you think the deal is with Mordenkainen saying all those silly things about Vhaeraun? Do you think it's a Lolthite lying to him, a Vhaeraunite spreading misinformation to be secretive, or something else? Also, in what ways do you think Vhaeraun has changed post-Second Sundering and how do you think his Church works now, since I think almost everyone is in agreement that Mordenkainen's version of things is not the truth?

BTW, I love your takes on lore. Would you like to join a discord server with a lot of other people who love Vhaeraun and Vhaeraunite OCs?

Ooh.

First of all, thank you very much. I do feel like the jokermush meme sometimes with my ramblings, so its always good to hear they tickle people.

So the less interesting out of universe explanation is, in my opinion, that the 5e writers were trying something new and it didn't land, because the new thing they were trying came without much consideration or love to prior lore or world building.

The more i've looked into it, the more I've developed some larger opinions about the modern direction of 5e and it's handling of things. Which I can summarize as "Has put more focus on indivual character building like adding new classes and races to the setting, rather than focusing on things like setting and societal building, divine influence, ect ect ect) Take it or leave it as to whether or not thats a good or bad thing, but I do think things like worldbuilding has suffered as a result of it as result of where their focus it. Get's a little more generalized.

A more interesting combination of in-universe and out of universe explanation would be:

Mordenkainen is from Greyhawk, which is a separate setting from Toril/Forgotten Realms altogether.

At risk of massive oversimplification, back when DND was in it's younger years, they had a lot more "Multi-verses" that were inner-linked by the same overarching gameplay system (each kind of hitting a different genre), and each world handled the races/deities/classes differently, giving them new context to that worlds setting. Darksun (Video linked giving an overview of the setting through an old video-game that used it) being comparatively unrecognizable from things like the Forgotten Realms. Likewise, a lot of the worlds had a different author (Forgotten Realms being Ed Greenwood's, Greyhawk being Gygax's, ect)

Over the years, some worlds (Like Dark Sun, may it rest in peace) have been abandoned, while others (Like SpellJammer, Greyhawk, and Forgotten Realms) Have been sort of like... adopted into the same space? Which like I'm under the impression they've always sort of canonically existed along side one another (With the point of Spelljammer being that crosstravel between realms, but there being some existing portals that crossover the realms on each planet), but modern Hasbro seems to be putting all of their hens in the basket of The Forgotten Realms, so a lot of world building that was exclusive to other worlds got pulled into it.

(Fun fact, Artificer as a class actually used to be exclusive to the Eberron campaign setting, which too was it's own world separate from the forgotten realms with it's own lore and world building introduced as a contest win. But who can deny how much funky magic engineer kind of fucks supremely)

Greyhawk is specifically known for being... Some people would say "down to earth," But I would say "a darker and grittier" setting than the Forgotten Realms. All of that stranger, kind of contradicting lore that was put out in 3.5 is, IF I RECALL CORRECTLY, actually Greyhawk lore.

Combining the two points (if you wanted to have a bit of fun with it) I think what is likely is that the in-universe explanation for what's going on is that "That's what Vhaeraun's aspect is like on Greyhawk." Greyhawk Vhaeraun and Forgotten Realms Vhaeraun ARE separate and independent of one another, and I think both evolved to fit the needs of the drow there. Lolth has more concrete control on Greyhawk, so it wouldn't shock me if his aspect there did exist in submission to hers.

(My extra headcanon that has no basis in anything that's been published is that the drow on Toril are kind of Vhaeraun's focus.)

As for how what I think Vhaeraun's Church is like now....

So. I'm under the impression that his church before his death was a little Spartian/Militaristic in nature? Mandatory Military Service, a lot of indivual and disconnected sects all with their own motivations and way of doing things with very little communication between them... Very much a "We're fighting for survival, not inclusion" kind of environment. I think that Vhaeraun's death and revival is a sincere turning point for the culture of Vhaeraun's (And Eilistraee's, but this isn't about her) church? The reason for this (in my opinion, not canon) is two fold.

The first is that he a lot of time to think when he was in dream prison (We accept mystra's dream prison theory here, with nuance.) Even separate from Eilistraee and Mystra tag teaming him to beat him up, guy had a lot of time to re-evulate some things.

Secondarily though, I think Vhaeraun is very responsive to his worshipers and their general attitude. It's not that he doesn't have his own thoughts and opinions, but I do think to some degree there is a synergy between gods and their worshipers, and that Vhaeraun in particular is very susceptible to changing to those opinions. I think before he died his follower were, on the whole, a lot angrier and more vitriolic, and it's something that came around to reflect into him.

However, not only did a lot of his followers die when he did / Were killed without his immediate protection (As an example, Shadow Dragon Fuckers Anonymous over there going from 800 members to 140.) I think in the 100 years that followed, a lot of new people not only came into, but were born as a result of the inner-mixing with Eilistraee's church. There's likely an entire generation of followers where the only church they knew was The Masked Lady (Combined Vhaeraun and Eilistraee.)

And that's had to have effected something in feeling of him and the culture of his church.

I think he's more hesitant than ever to work with other gods. Uh, his followers that converted or duo whorshiped Shar and her church (put politely) fucked him and his church over in Sshamath after he died (because of course they did, it's shar's church.) Between that and Mystra's involvement in the failed assassination attempt on Eilistraee, I think working with Eilistraee is an exception and not a standard, but it's a massive and meaningful exception to me? I think their churches are combined in a way that's unavoidable. I think there's always going to be communities that only worship one over the other, but I think there's a lot of communities that worship both directly.

I think the biggest change in his church is that (No basis from canon, but) they've become a little more community oriented. A lot of really strange things (Time of troubles > Silence of Lolth > Vhaeraun Dying > SpellPlague) Happened in the span of 30 years at most. For a Drow, that's nothing. That's the human equivalent of like 3 years. I think his church exists with more unity and communication than is ever has before. Not only did a LOT of the more influential underdark organizations get fucked (Say hi again to Jaezred Chaulssin) but a lot of the surface settlements that he had got screwed over (Cormanthor). I think that they were forced to knit together a lot more than they did in past years.

I think his church has discovered the power of the economy, and has turned his focus towards trying to gain power through having control over things like the means of wealth over more direct tactics like taking control of cities and having a Hashtag Drow Nation. I think some of this is legal business, but I don't think he's morally opposed to carving out places for drow through the criminal side of things. Respect is respect, and they can find power one way or the other.

I think his church still has a quite a few issues with the "mehmeh Drow Supremacy" of it all, but I think that's something that they're going to have to change as time goes on. I think it's far off in the future, maybe not even with the 1500's of the Forgotten Realms, but I think as more settle on the surface even separate from his community and they're treated with more respect (and as more surface races separate from drow start worshiping him), the church will be forced to return that energy.

Finally, I think there's more of a focus then ever in actually settling and stability on the surface, and making connections in major cities on the coast? But I have no major thoughts on this outside of the fact that now seems to be The Time to be doing it in canon.

(Also. Yeah I probably would. I make no promises on being active, I can be kind of a lurker in servers sometimes. But I like Vhaeraun. I like Vhaeraunite OC's. I'd poke my head in and say hi. Maybe write up a little introduction.)

Edit: I just went back to read your ask, and you specified Vhaeraun AND his church, not just his church. Lmao. Oops.

I think he's calmed down a lot, Post-Second Sundering. Like, the impression I get of him prior to his death is this desperate, manic paranoia. I think by the time he got merged up with his sister, he was throwing caution to the wind and just going for what his guys thought was best. I think he comes back deeply exhausted, low-energy, and a bit more contemplative. Like a man with a hangover.

I think (No canon basis thought) a lot of the indivual worshipers he was fond of are like... dead, so he's starting from scratch in sniffing out who all is worshiping him and understanding who they are and where they came from and why they're here. I think that's something deeply frustrating to him.

[harmleikurdraws]

Not sure if you’re taking requests, but…..Would you consider drawing something with Bruce and Damian being adorable together? 🥹🥹

Please enjoy

[tasenwrobots]

I feel like Casey jr would drop apocalypse lore and spoilers accidentally all the time without even intending to. One minute it would be fine and then he'd say something like:

"Mikey, just levitate to grab it off from the ceiling"

And everyone is like:

I had to draw this

Also reminds me of this one

[cokoweee]

Is it the human/zombies idea?

lol correct all of the above lol. Well except the human part. They’re just slightly a bit more human

[captain-heartstrings]

CAPTAINNNN

I require your version of builderman/hatred from block tales

(Answer if you wish! )

(Adds him to the lineup) HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU- /ref

[monstersholygrail]

Imagine being your clans chief eldest daughter, so you get send to a war meeting thats between your small village clan, and the different four big monster chiefs, who respectedly all fight against each other over who can claim your land.

But instead of standing your word and fight for your home, the others confuse you as a sign of surrender and you use as a cute fuck-and stresstoy all meeting long as they discuss who will earn what part of you land. Getting passes around from the big Orc chief, to the minotaur advocate, the big horned demon like politician and the forest creature clan eldest 🥺🥺

Coming home in shame, as their cum runs down your legs, and having to explain the obvious mating claim one of them had casted on you

Oh my goooooood. Fuck, I love this. You got me wiggling around in my seat fr.

I like how by the end of it, the land they ended up fighting for was reader haha. And they all had a momentary truce to make them get absolutely fucked out. I wonder who got the making claim tho?? And by extension, would that mean they ended up getting the land too?

What would be even funnier is if reader doesn’t know who put the mating claim on them. They just have a mating mark on their body. And all three monsters claim it’s them because they want reader bad.

So by the end up if it they kinda wind up having a Mama Mia situation on their hands.

[aspecmemesdaily]

Hi have a meme I made

Have a good day

I love it! Thank you for sharing it.

Day 150

[ingeniousmindoftune]

Can you please do Sinners with Sammie x Reader. But please make sure that reader or your of gets bitten but not turned. Basically just do the whole scene with the vampires invading the speakeasy and then reader gets bitten, then sammie sees her and he follows through with his promise of killing her if she gets bitten.

Bite of Betrayal

Sammie x Reader

Warnings: Vampires,violence, emotional angst, betrayal, near-death, protective love, heartbreak, blood, gore, trauma, intense emotional angst, heartbreak, violence, protective/possessive love, emotional aftermath, themes of death and trust.

Note: Reader gets bitten but not turned. This is a bittersweet/angsty scene with strong emotions and gritty atmosphere.

Word Count: ~2,000

The speakeasy felt like a secret carved into the earth—its ceiling hung so low your shoulders brushed the dark-stained beams, and the thick limestone walls swallowed every roar from the street above. Rich burgundy velvet drapes pooled at the floor, muffling footsteps and hiding corners where whispers curled like curling smoke. The mahogany bar gleamed under wrought-iron sconces whose amber flames trembled against chipped plaster. A lone pianist’s fingers coaxed a smoky jazz lament from yellowed keys, each breathy trumpet cry sliding through the haze of whiskey fumes and hushed confidences. Candlelight puddled in brass holders, flickering over brass footrails and stained-glass mirrors, giving the whole room a secretive, golden hush.

You hadn’t noticed Sammie slip in beside you until his elbow pressed against the small of your back. His trench coat still clung to the damp chill of the alley, and the brim of his fedora cast a shadow over his eyes. He leaned forward, the scent of cedarwood cologne drifting against the whiskey in the air, and his lips, cool and deliberate, brushed your temple. He straightened, fingers curling around the ornate brass rail. “Don’t move,” he murmured—so low you might have imagined it. “I’ll be right back.” His smile was a promise you’d never doubted.

Then something snapped.

First, the sconces guttered, their flames sputtering like wounded insects. The pianist’s final chord hovered in the air and died. A woman’s scream ricocheted off the stone, sharp enough to freeze your blood. Crystalware shattered—glittering rain against the polished floor—as cold seeped through the candles’ warmth. Then came the sour tang of spilled bourbon fused with something rotten, like soil left to rot under a forgotten tomb.

Shapes unfurled from the gloom: towering silhouettes, limbs too long and thin to be human, sliding across the floor with a disturbing grace. Their eyes burned ember-red, teeth curved into cruel crescents that gleamed white in the candlelight. A hungry stench rolled off them in waves, sinking into your gut and twisting your stomach into knots.

Chaos ignited. Glass bottles exploded in showers of amber liquid; patrons stumbled, screaming, arms flailing as overturned stools skidded across the boards. A red-faced drunkcareened into a table, sending glasses flying. In the far corner, a man’s howl cut off mid-word as invisible hands yanked him across the floor, his throat opened in a spray of ruby that painted the wood in wicked arcs.

Vampires.

Your heart thundered so loud you felt it in your ears. Instinct sent your hand to your thigh, fingers closing around the slender silver blade Sammie had clipped to your garter. In one fluid motion you drew it free—only to freeze as icy breath ghosted across your neck.

“I always liked sweetbloods,” a voice rasped, low and amused. A gaunt figure drifted into the candlelight, pale collarbones gleaming, a cruel smile curving his lips.

You spun and slashed. The blade carved a burnished arc across translucent flesh; the creature’s laughter echoed like bone rattling. In a heartbeat he seized your wrist, yanking it back until pain flared along your bones. His amber eyes danced with savage delight.

“Feisty,” he growled, tilting you toward the bar. You felt the polished wood bite into your spine as he slammed you forward—glass beneath you shivered and splintered under the impact. Pain exploded up your back in hot shards, but rage blazed brighter. You kicked out, boot connecting with his shin. He snarled and bared his fangs.

Then he struck—jaws clamped down on your shoulder in a vicious arc of white and crimson. Fire surged through you, searing nerve endings with each pulse. You screamed raw, a ragged sound that cut through the din as cold began to snake through your limbs, dulling your world.

Bang! Bang!

Two thunderous cracks shattered the frenzy. You convulsed as the vampire’s weight slumped from your shoulder. The world tipped; your vision fractured into shards of shadow and flame. Through the haze you saw Sammie standing amid splintered glass and overturned chairs, his trench coat ticked with ash and blood. A pistol hung limply in his hand, smoke curling from its twin barrels. He had shot point-blank into the creature’s skull; gray dust drifted down from its ruined face.

“Y/N—!” His voice cracked, wrenching the edges of panic and relief together.

Strong arms swept beneath you, lifting you from the wreckage. Sammie pressed you against his chest, his fingers trembling as they probed the crimson stain blooming at your shoulder. His eyes, wide with horror, locked on the curved silver blade slick with your blood.

“He bit you,” he hissed, every breath rattling like a cracked bell. “If they bite you—”

You forced your throat to work, croaking out a nod. “I—I tried to fight—”

He recoiled as if struck, light flickering in his eyes, turning cold. “Do you remember what I said?” His voice was hollow, like a gravestone.

You did. If their fangs ever broke your skin, Sammie would kill you before you could rise as one of them—a vow he’d fulfilled for countless others. Your pulse hammered in your ears as you met his gaze.

“Sammie, please,” you whispered, fingers clutching the lapel of his coat. “I’m still me. I can feel it.”

He flinched, pain warring with resolve. His pistol arm rose, hand shaking so hard the barrel quivered against your chest. “You don’t know that,” he rasped.

“Sammie, you love me,” you pleaded, voice raw.

His jaw clenched like steel. “I do,” he choked, “and that’s why I can’t let you become one of them.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached for his shaking hand. “Then help me live,” you begged. “Don’t—don’t kill me.”

His shoulders trembled; the barrel lifted, wobbling. He stared at you, the weight of every promise pressing down. The gun slipped from his feeble grip and clattered to the floor. Sammie sank to his knees, pulling you into his lap, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath was hot, ragged against your skin.

“I should kill you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “But I can’t. I won’t.”

You closed your eyes against the pain, drawing what little strength you had into a single breath. “Then help me live.”

A fierce determination flashed in his haunted eyes. He brushed your hair back, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “We’ll find a healer—witch, alchemist, whatever it takes. I’ll burn this city to ashes before I lose you to the darkness.”

Your blood dulled your limbs, but in Sammie’s arms you felt a fragile spark of hope. “I trust you,” you murmured.

He lifted you gently, cradling your injured side against his heart. “Then trust me this: I will save you. If you do turn, I’ll be the one to end it. But until then, I swear I will not let you go.”

With that vow echoing in the ruined speakeasy, he carried you into the night—leaving behind splintered wood and spilled blood. Beyond those battered doors lay a world ablaze and unknown, but in Sammie’s steadfast grip you were still alive.

But little did you know, he planned to kill you once you entered the night. Because he made a promise, a promise he would hold to heart.

[dysfunctional-doodle]

For @catsismyevilincarnated who wanted me to do my 2003 Raph design from Too Many Turtles. I was trying to quickly experiment with some shading for a commission and thought I might as well sketch this guy.

-> Commissions || My Kofi || Tip Jar <-

No, we aren’t going to talk about my dead upload schedule or the hiatus of Too Many Turtles, rip.

[jo-the-intellectual]

I LOVE your fic Death And All Its Friends!!! Read it a couple of months ago and have been thinking about it ever since, the plot is incredible, I love it!!! 💖

What inspired you to write this fic?

Thank uu so much!! Actually it was this artwork by @oo_oo_ll_ll over on Twitter

The idea of Lancelot falling in love with Sonic while trying to kill him was something I hadn’t read yet so I decided I needed that fic in my life lol.

Ironically I haven’t told the artist that I wrote a fic based on their work yet… maybe I should get on that.

[heart-0f-a-rebel16]

You know what, I'm asking

If this is about what’s in my pants I told you you’re just gonna have to hold up the Geiger counter and see for yourself

[lilbeanz]

ok, I need to know. Who's technically taller in jotd, harry or draco (without heels haha)?

By about three inches the winner isss...

✨️Draco✨️

I'm quite partial to a tall stringbean Draco, and a short king Harry.

Draco’s got that pureblood pedigree inbreeding with some health issues and a scarily high metabolism(🐩🪶)

Meanwhile Harry is in no way as tall as James was. His growth was somewhat stunted by the Dursleys (🤬🔪) but Sirius and Remus have made sure to keep him healthy and well fed since taking him in (🥰❤️)

[harmleikurdraws]

cozy request ??! if u still do requests

dick and jason sleepy after a patrol

or after a long fight (over alfred’s cookies)

There will never be peace.

[tasenwrobots]

They should make Casey a shirt that has a large red SPOILER ALERT plastered on the front and back

Nobody matching his freak frfr (his freak=trauma)

[cokoweee]

PD! Donnie just seeing a bunch of alter versions of his dead family in the tmnt competition would give us enough material for a whole essay.

He can’t spazz out if he can’t see 🤓🤓🤓

this was meant to be a sketch but I got carried away.