#Looking at that thing about the godborn

[y-rhywbeth2]

"Jergal never tells [the truth/his plans]. If you do pray to him and ask, anything he says will be a means of manipulating you to do or try something (as part of one of his plans), rather than the truth about the plan."

As ever, Withers is a lying liar who lies: 50% of what he says is ominous portents of doom and 100% of what he says is lies and manipulation. He is also apparently an expert at manipulating other deities, and none of them can match his skill at it.

I'm still suspicious about whatever he did to Arabella (which was incredibly disturbing) and possibly Durge, and the worst thing is I don't know if the writers are unaware of this side of Jergal (and thus he's just out of character and overly benevolent) or if I should be concerned in-game.

I mean the thing where he erased Arabella's grief and she's suddenly very casual about killing people did seem framed as creepy, I think? And that taunting of his three favourite pawns at the end... he could be the behind the scenes guy?

Withers makes me anxious.

[vialaviolenza]

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ▓ “ You’ve been so quiet. what’s on your mind? ” @godborn

Navy blues gaze longingly out a window, savoring the beauty of rainy Italian streets void of bustling crowds. Today proves to be a day dedicated to rest and relaxation on account of having no work and no expectations. A subtle smile perpetually rests on Bruno's features as he steps out from his suite in the Villa to leisurely begin exploring the shared space until he finds himself in the kitchen where he begins to fix a pot of coffee.

The sounds of approaching feet capture his attention and he shifts to glance over his shoulder to find Giorno, there's a quaint nod accompanied by a growing smile before he turns back forward. Another mug is pulled from the cabinet, and two glasses are poured before he brings a tray to the table in the kitchen that rests near a large ornate window. The one cup is offered to the blonde, the sugar cup pushed over knowing how he prefers it. As Giorno fixes his coffee, Bruno merely looks out the window in silence, the sudden direct question pulling his attention back.

❝⸻Hm ? ❞ Lips part in thought, his hand holding onto his cup as he leans back into his seat, ❝ It's difficult to say if I'm being honest. ❞ He speaks with softness, as his navy blues drift from Giorno to be sure no one else is lingering and listening in. . .and, once it is noted that they are fully alone, he looks back. ❝ I've been reflecting a lot on what's happened between us all. What could've been lost forever, and it's inspired me to take action for the things I desire. Tell me, Giorno. . .Have you ever thought about marriage? ❞ A hum of amusement finds him, eyes relaxing to half-mast as he looks back out the window while he sips on his coffee. ❝ Perhaps you are still too young to be thinking about such commitments, but I'm not getting any younger and. . .he is 'the one' I want to spend my life with. I just haven't the slightest clue of what to do about it all.❞

[meanbihexual]

WIP Ask Meme

--tagged by @sullustangin

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send  you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips. (You can make your own post or reblog this   one!) This isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? DnD campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!! 

Y'all do not want my entire catalogue of WIPs, I promise. It took me 15 minutes to just read the titles aloud to my wife, and only 1 or 2 of those was taken up by maniacal laughter at the middle school era fanfic I still have saved. And I didn't include my DnD or RP folders.

However, I will give you SWTOR because that's what this blog is for, and also some of my originals because if you can't shamelessly self-promote on tumblr, where can you?

I am also going to add a cut because this is a long fucking list.

No pressure tagging @sithwarblade @walk-ng-d-saster @lovelyladyl @davidoodles @grandninjamasterren @storyknitter and anybody else who wants to play. I cannot possibly tag as many people as I have WIP even if I go with my short list.

SWTOR (not in alphabetical order because I have lots of subfolders in the SWTOR folder and I cannot be assed to alphabetize them after typing them out)

-Chasing the Sun

-Disavowed Rewrite

-Coruscant

-Kattori Backstory

-Planet Timeline

-Piratical Passions

-Bad things come in threes

-Datacron Party

-Regency AU

-Date

-Date 2

-Do you have a date

-It was too quiet onboard the ship

-Prelude to Destiny

-Rishii

-Safi-Theron

-Safiya Adraiel had never been unsure a day in her life

-After wedding

-Theron was already settled into a corner booth

-In the early days of the Alliance

-jacket earbuds now

-safi theron ily

-Sweetheart Hill

-Sweetheart Hill v2

-Sweetheart Hill v3

-Theron Says ch 1

-Theron Says ch 2

-Balmorra

-Chocolate

-Coruscanttrooper

-Coruscantword

-Gauntlet

-Hoth troop

-Medcenter

-Names

-Ord Mantell

-Phila pieces

-Phila timeline

-Phila

-Post Hoth pre Gauntlet

-Quesh

-Quesh 2

-The Gift

-Thoughts

-Trooper

-The force

-The sky was black

Originals (same not in alphabetical order warning applies, as well as this is only original stuff that I remember what it's about because honestly I have no idea what 3/4 of this stuff is)

-Poppies

-Mines

-Maddie

-Alleleiruh retelling

-Calandra

-Dragon Rain 1

-asdf

-There are fairies in my fireplace

-Kaele Rowan's Lies

-The Cadelan Wars

-The Godborn

-Everyone knew that linda was crazy

-Linda's Lament

-Panacea

-I look dreadful in white

-Reia

-Daire Royal Family Tree

-The Savage Prince

-The tower was unbearably hot

-Cold Moon

-doorway

[yejiroh]

VIOLA {chapter 12}

TAMAKI AMAJIKI X FEM!READER

TWELVE:

As the song changes its tune, so do we. Let’s leave this sad melody for a happier dance, my darling.

“It's ok to be a fool once or twice but never let it be a third time. Be smart and pretend to be a fool and at the end of the hunt make sure you're the one that has the gun.”- Surgeo Bell

***

“Tsuku, I love you.” 

Amaterasu woke up with a cold sweat, gripping her skirts. What was that just now? That dream, no, memory, was from over two millennia ago, she shouldn’t have been bothered by such a thing.

Y/n yawned, stretching her arms. They’d make the last trek over the mountain today, so there’d be no stops but the bathroom. 

Which had been more or less awkward having to dig up latrines.

Amaterasu looked at the girl. There was drool, sweat, and unruly hair.

Y/n was beginning to become more like a beast than a human. After she washed up it’d be fine. 

A frog croaked in the distance- mating season was coming. 

The sun goddess stood up, raking her fingers through her hair, Y/n snickering.

“What is so humorous, mortal?”

“Nothing. I’ve just never seen you dirty”

“Pardon?”

“You’re dirty, Amaterasu. Really dirty.”

***

“Okay, we’re nearing the top of the mountain Y/n. Soon, we’ll need to wear masks cause the air will be getting thinner. If you feel tired or light-headed, let me know, okay?” 

Tamaki tied his hair up, wiping the sweat off his brow, The humidity was rising and the ground was getting soggy. They’d have to hurry. 

Crows flew overhead, watching their every move. Y/n was unusually quiet, looking distracted. Today was the fifth day of their hike up the Eastern mountain, and there was a decrease in the vegetation. Fortunately, Y/n had a bunch of sweets, but those wouldn’t last long if she kept eating them. “Y/n?”

No answer. Tamaki turned around, no one was there. 

He was alone. High up on a mountain. The Eastern mountain.

Tamaki put a hand in his hair, breathing in deeply. He was not going to panic, he was going to breathe. Y/n was probably relieving herself, but she would have told him had she needed to go. It was going to get dark soon, and there was no reason for her to disappear.

“Y/n! Where’d you go?” 

Again, no answer. 

Tamaki Amajiki was alone.

***

They’d been hiking for about 5 hours when Amaterasu had sensed it- a lurker. They were being watched, but for how long?

Ninigi was sleeping, floating behind Tamaki, and Y/n was picking her nails with a knife- all were too occupied to have noticed. 

Nudging Y/n she pointed behind them. The leaves were rustling.

“I’m sure it’s just a small pizzly- nothing to worry about.”

“And if its mother comes?”

“Then we have something to worry about.”

Amaterasu raised a brow. How could this girl jump at every small creature, but a bear she had no problem with? Not important. It wasn’t a pizzly, she knew that.

“Child, I know that's not a pizzly.”

Y/n put the knife down, curious.

“Then what is-mmph!”

A hand clamped over her mouth, and all but the thumb touched her. It was calloused severely, and dirty. Another hand on her waist, pulling her back. Tamaki hadn’t noticed, Ninigi didn’t wake up. And Amaterasu was linked to Y/n, so she was dragged along as well. 

Y/n closed her eyes, thrashing. Another hand grabbed her chin, tilting her head up.

“Open your eyes princess.”

She didn’t, and he dug his nails into her chin.

“Open your fucking eyes, princess.”

Reluctantly, she did, and lost her breath.

The two men stood over her, tall and from what she could see, physically fit. 

The one holding her was covered in hands and ashes, and the other was covered in scars, his blue eyes piercing. 

The latter spoke, a wicked smile on his face, his deep voice threatening.

“So godborn, care to help a couple of outlaws out?”

Amaterasu watched; she could not, would not, help, or they’d be found out. Not just by the world, but the moon. 

Y/n began to tear; his nails drew blood. 

And then she was dragged down the mountain. 

[bluuxriising]

[DISPLAY with big text dump included.]

The most “subtle” thing Tess can do with her particular “gift” is manage is to flex her knuckles and listen to the godawful crunching sound her hand makes as things dislocate. “Anyway, it's something else. Not a lot of--" Her voice thins with pain, but she doesn't scream. Fuckfuckfuck– “–maneuverability. Not the easiest change.”

The color leaches from her skin, gray cracks spreading along the flesh and leaving sleek, impenetrable plates in their wake. Her smile is a sharp and strained all of a sudden, the pupils of her eyes large and dilated as she struggles to focus enough to force all those dislocated bits in her hand to pop back into place. Her breaths are little more than low rasps and hisses at this point. Coping.

he clawed fingers are too long now, bigger than her head, the sort children are afraid will reach out from beneath the bed in the dead of night.

Tess' fingernails are on the floor, scattered and bloody.

"Wakes you up in the morning--" Eyes watering. Reflexive response. She can take her pain, chew it up and spit it out.

After a good five seconds or so, she held up a swollen and bruised, but otherwise functioning human hand with five neat fingernails. “That’s it. All there is to it.”

Bluu could only stare in mute shock at the slow, painful transformation that her mother was forcing herself to endure. Her throat felt dry and rank with phlegm. Cottonmouth, on top of everything else.

She groped out blindly through her silent tears for Tess so that she could comfort the older woman, then remembered that her mother's bloody fucking fingernails were scattered all over on the floor. "MAMMA!" she yelled, purely reactive now: no longer Bluu, but a hysterical recreation, a creature made entirely of shock and anger. Anger at Tess for showing her this or angry at the woman's painful ability...she didn't know. Bluu was shocked, angry,...and afraid

She had always been afraid.

The terrible truth was, there was no hope for Godborn. Bluu had feared what she was capable of then, and she feared it now. She was as doomed as a rat in a snake cage, as doomed as doomed can be. She would never die, and she would never be free of the curse of memory most Godborn suffered from, and nothing she could do or say would make a goddam bit of difference. And here she was, in the middle of as grim a nowhere island as she'd ever found, in the cottage of a grandmother she had never met, whining about her lot in life when it was really Tess who made the most of what she had and powered through the pain with a smile on her face.

And there her mother was, holding up her swollen hand. Bruised and painful to look at, but otherwise whole and normal again.

"That's it. All there is to it."

Suddenly Bluu's face twisted with rage, and she whirled to slam her fist on the kitchen table, rattling the cups of tea and plate of cookies that still sat neatly on the surface. "Dammit, why are you smiling?" She cursed violently, then sank back down in her seat as her tiny body sagged under the weight of what she'd just seen. "Don't you get tired of it hurting you?" she asked in a muffled tone.

@fiddlingonthetympanic

[aquareads]

The Shadow Crosser (The Storm Runner #3) by J.C. Cervantes

Picture and synopsis from goodreads:

Zane Obispo has been looking forward to his training at the Shaman Institute for Higher Order Magic, and not only because it means he'll be reunited with his best friend, Brooks. Anything would be better than how he has spent the last three months: searching for the remaining godborns with a nasty demon who can sniff them out (literally). But when Zane tracks down the last kid on his list, he's in for a surprise: the ""one"" is actually a pair of twins, and they're trying to prevent a mysterious object from falling into the wrong hands. After a shocking betrayal, Zane finds himself at SHIHOM sooner than expected. Even more shocking is the news that the Maya gods have gone missing. The bat god, Camazotz, and Ixkik' (aka Blood Moon) have taken them out of commission . . . and the godborns are their next target. The only thing the villains need now? The object that the twins possess. Zane knows the godborns aren't strong enough yet to stand up to Zotz, Ixkik', and their army. There might be a way to save the gods, but it involves locating a magical calendar that can see across time and space . . . not to mention traveling more than thirty years into the past. In The Shadow Crosser, Zane and his friends embark on their most treacherous mission yet--a mission that, with one blunder, could change history as we know it, and worse, destroy the universe.

The finale of The Storm Runner series wraps up the plot threads from the first two books quite neatly. Out of all the books from the Riordan Presents imprint, I think that The Storm Runner is probably the closest to Riordan’s style of adventures seen in his books. Cervantes does an excellent job with continuity in her writing, wrapping up characters and plot points that have been brought up in previous books while still managing to up the stakes for a final confrontation. Some of the previous elements that I didn’t think much of came back to play a role in the Zane’s quest to save the gods from being completely forgotten and erased from time itself. A fast paced plot, there were points where I wish there was more time to relax and some things felt like they were resolved a bit too quickly. All in all a satisfying conclusion to an interesting series about the gods of the Mayan and Mexica pantheons.

[bookloveravenue]

A Storm Runner novel (book 3): The Shadow Crosser by J.C. Cervantes

Best-selling author Rick Riordan presents J.C. Cervantes' epic finale to the Storm Runner trilogy, a tale of mystery, magic, and mayhem featuring gods from both Maya and Aztec mythology.

Zane Obispo has been looking forward to his training at the Shaman Institute for Higher Order Magic, and not only because it means he'll be reunited with his best friend, Brooks. Anything would be better than how he has spent the last three months: searching for the remaining godborns with a nasty demon who can sniff them out (literally). But when Zane tracks down the last kid on his list, he's in for a surprise: the ""one"" is actually a pair of twins, and they're trying to prevent a mysterious object from falling into the wrong hands.

After a shocking betrayal, Zane finds himself at SHIHOM sooner than expected. Even more shocking is the news that the Maya gods have gone missing. The bat god, Camazotz, and Ixkik' (aka Blood Moon) have taken them out of commission . . . and the godborns are their next target. The only thing the villains need now? The object that the twins possess.

Zane knows the godborns aren't strong enough yet to stand up to Zotz, Ixkik', and their army. There might be a way to save the gods, but it involves locating a magical calendar that can see across time and space . . . not to mention traveling more than thirty years into the past.

In The Shadow Crosser, Zane and his friends embark on their most treacherous mission yet--a mission that, with one blunder, could change history as we know it, and worse, destroy the universe.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/49293602-the-shadow-crosser

********

September 7, 2020

My Review: 5/5 Stars

A fantastic conclusion to this trilogy! I loved this series since I picked up book one and the third book did not disappoint. Zane and his friends are back and now it is time to defeat Camazotz and Ixkik once and for all. His mission to gather the godborns is just about complete. Though tracking down the last one, which turns out to be twins, is tricky, he makes it out of there in one piece. But their plans are quickly derailed when after the godborns are claimed by parents, the gods are taken! As Zane and his friends find a solution to try and find the missing gods they find out there are a lot more twists and turns they could ever imagine. And the biggest twist of all is where the gods are exactly. Nothing is ever easy for Zane. And this is his biggest and most dangerous mission yet. Like I said earlier, I loved this book. I couldn't put it down. There were a lot of plot twists that kept me on my toes. And the ending was great too. Especially that it left it with the possibility of more books from this world. Which I learned it looks like we are getting two more books, but from Ren's point of view as she tackles an issue that was brought up at the end of this book. So excited! I loved reading these stories and learning more about the Mayan gods. Definitely a neat branch of mythology. Can't wait to read more from this author!

[argivebeauty]

Bleed - Find my muse injured. {{ from Hera }}

She knew the gods were watching. 

A part of her had known it all along: it was fate that Illium should burn, every line of that song had been written exactly as it was predestined to be. Her heart felt as if it was catching fire. The sound of blade clashing against blade mingled with screams and moans thundered inside her ears as an urgent heat spread through her veins. Above anything, she was determined to survive. She had to find Menelaus first: it had to be him, it couldn’t be any other soldier - things could get ugly otherwise, but she was prepared. Helen had blades attached to her slippers and her ribs, underneath her girdle. As she raced through a garden of corpses, leaving carmine stains behind her feet, their sharps ends would often nip at her skin and cause her to bleed, though Helen ignored it. She was about to reach the tower when an arrow pierced her shoulder. The pain was numbing, her flesh pulsating around the wound which burned stronger at each step she took, but it didn’t stop her. Pain was nothing, she remembered. In defiance to her body she pressed forward and reached her destination, climbing step after step until she fell on her knees into a chamber, exhausted. Her breath was loud, chest heaving, warm drops of blood were running thickly down her back. 

It was no coincidence that she had fallen before the statue of the goddess of marriage.

The room was a small and private shrine, she recognized it now, except this time no lamps had been lit, the scent of incenses long faded. Everything smelled like smoke as the city crumbled into ashes.  Her vision was cloudy from the ache: Helen thought she had sensed divine presence, a visceral part of her always seemed to identify its nearness, and when she looked up the statue seemed to change into her true form, eluding her eyes. She remembered Paris’ story then. The three goddesses in contest for an apple, Aphrodite’s promise more taunting than the rest of them. And to think she once thought he’d tell that story to any woman. There she was now, on bended knees, wife to three husbands, two of which were dead - three soiled marriages before Hera. The Olympian queen and wife of Zeus, who had bestowed her mother with two godborn children. Fate was truly full of ironies. This would be either her fall or her redemption - she couldn’t tell which, but like a proper Spartan Helen stoically ignored her pain, bowing before the goddess in reverence.

“My husband is coming for me”, she murmured, hoping to find a hint of her fate in her answer.

[sakrosanctum-a]

𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒏  𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔  .

: * ROMEO   &   JULIET .     suburban july .   scraped  knees .   bruised  knuckles .   blood  in  your  teeth .   bare  feet  on  hot  concrete .   restlessness .   your  high  school’s  empty  parking  lot .   love  poems  in  your  diary .   a  window  open  to  coax  in  the  breeze .   burning  inside .   an  ill - fitting  party  dress .   a  t - shirt  you  cut  up  yourself .   the  time  you  tried  to  give  yourself  bangs .   biking  to  your  friends  house .   bubble  gum .   gas  station  ice .   the  feeling  that  you’ve  met  before .   rebellion .   a  car  radio  playing  down  the  street .   cheap  fireworks .   a  heart  drawn  on  the  inside  of  your  wrist  with  a  sharpie .   switchblades .   red  solo  cups .   dancing  in  your  bedroom .   screaming  yourself  hoarse .   running  out  of  options .   the  forlorn  looking  basketball  hoop  at  the  end  of  a  cul - de - sac .   climbing  onto  your  roof  at  night  while  your  parents  are  asleep .   flip - flops .   a  eulogy  written  on  loose - leaf .   the  merciless  noontime  sun .

: * HAMLET .

speaking  in  a  whisper .   holding  your  breath .   a  browning garden .   a  half  remembered  story .   furniture  covered  with  sheets .   fog  at  dawn ,  mist  at  twilight .   losing  touch .   the  ethereal  space  between  winter  and  spring .   the  soft  skin  at  your  temple .   the  crack  in  the  hallway  mirror .   things  you’d  say  if  you  knew  the  words .  uncombed  hair .   books  with  writing  in  the  margins .   books  with  cracked  spines .   books  with  lines  scratched  out .   prayers  on  all  souls’  day .   a chipped  ceramic  bathtub .   a  cold  stone  floor .   the  uncomfortable  awareness  of  your  own  heartbeat .   the  sparrow  that  got  in  your  house .   shadows .   the  creek  you  played  in  as  a  child .   a  dirty  night  gown .   an  oversized  t - shirt .   a  collection  of  your  favorite  words .   soil  beneath  your  nails .   ghost  stories .   the  strangeness  of  your  own  name  in  your  mouth .   deep  silence .   exhaustion .   a  cliff  with  a  long ,  long  drop  down .

: * THE   TWELFTH   NIGHT .     wicker  deck  furniture .   new  england  summer .   large  sunglasses  and  a  blonde  bob .   a  storm  over  the  ocean .   patio  umbrellas  flapping  in  the  wind .   the  smell  of  chlorine .   muffled  laughter .   sarcasm .   starched  cuffs .   day drinking .   bay  windows .   the  idea  of  love .   love  for  the  idea  of  love .   love  for  love’s  sake .   hangovers .   wandering  over  the  sand  dunes .   a  vagabond  with  a  guitar .   fishermen  with  tattoos .   a  pretty  boy  with  a  slacked  tie .   a  lighthouse .   growing  too  close .   boat  shoes .   feeling  yourself  change .   big ,  floppy  sunhats .   double - speak .   a  song  you  keep  listening  to .  turning  red  under  their  gaze .   margaritas  drank  on  an  inflatable  pool  lounger .   string  lights  on  a  balmy  night .   sleepy  june  days .   fights  you’re  unprepared  for .   hope  you  weren’t  expecting .  pranks  that  go  too  far .   bad  poetry .  pining .   becoming  less  of  a  stranger .

: * MACBETH .     the  space  where  your  grief  used  to  be .   a  bird  that’s  lost  an  eye .   old  blood  stains .   heavy  blinds .   the  smell  of  sweat .   the  stillness  after  a  battle .   a fake smile .   a  curse .   the  taste  of  metal  at  the  back  of  your  tongue .   your  house ,  unfamiliar  in  the  dark .   a  dusty  crib .   the  smell  of  sulfur .   an  orange  pill  bottle .   streaks  in  the  sink .   a  black  cocktail  dress .   your  hand  on  the  doorknob ,  shaking .   a  chilly  breeze .   crunching  from  the  gravel  driveway  on  a  moonless  night .   clenched  hands .   a  rusty  swing  set .   a  flashing  digital  clock  stuck  on  12 : 00 .   a  snake  that  crosses  your  path .   an  owl  that  watches  you .   a  dog  that  runs  when  you  approach .   red  smoke ,  dark  clouds .   cool  steel .   tile  floors .   footsteps  in  the  hallway  late  at  night .   a  baggy  suit  that  used  to  fit  before .   visions .   insomnia  headaches .  nursery  rhymes .   being  too  far  in  to  go  back  now .

: * MUCH   ADO   ABOUT   NOTHING .     the  high  drama  of  small  towns .   a  pickup  truck .   military  supply  duffel  bags  in  the  hall .   hugs  all  around .   tulip  bulbs .   a  wraparound  porch .   a  pitcher  of  iced  tea .   a  rubber  halloween  mask .   someone  on  your  level .   ill - timed  proclamations .   stomach  clenching  laughter .   rushing  in .   not  minding  your  business .   crepe  paper .   white lies .   secrets  written  down  and  thrown  away .   southern  hospitality .   homemade  curtains  in  the  kitchen .   a  sink  full  of  roses .   hiding  in  the  bushes .   old  friends .   the  wedding  dress  your  grandma  wore ,  and  her  mama  before  her .   a  dog - eared  rhyming  dictionary .   chamomile  with  honey .   the  intimacy  of  big  parties .   lawn  flamingos .   gossip .   a  crowded  church .   friendly  rivalries .   unfriendly  rivalries .  love  at  five  hundredth  sight .   not  realizing  you’re  home  until  you’re  there .

: * KING   LEAR .     cement  block  buildings .   power  lines  that  birds  never  perch  on .   the  end  of  the  world .   useless  words .    rainless  thunder ,  heat  lighting .   a  too  big  sky .   arthritic  knuckles .   broken  glass .   chalk  cliffs .   the  pulsing  red - black  behind  closed  eyes .   something  you  learned  too  late .   wet  mud  that  sucks  up  your  shoes  while  you  walk .   a  cold  stare .   empty  picture  frames .   empty  prayers .   the  obscenity  of  seeing  your  parents  cry .   a  treeless  landscape .   bloody  rags .    grappling  in  the  dark  with  reaching  hands .   the  sharpness  at  the  tips  of  your  teeth .   the  blown  out  windows  of  a  skeletal  house .   decay .   jokes  that  aren’t  jokes .   biting  your  tongue .   prophesies .   aching  muscles .   tired  feet .   stinging  rain .   invoking  the  gods .   wondering  if  the  gods  are  listening .   worrying  that  the  gods  are  dead .   white  noise .   shivers .   numbness .   the  unequivocal  feeling  of  ending .

: * A   MIDSUMMER   NIGHT'S   DREAM .     the  smell  of  wet  soil  and  dead  leaves .  listening  to  music  on  headphones  with  your  eyes  closed .   wildflowers .   the  distant  sparkle  of  lightning  bugs .   a  pill  someone  slipped  you .   fear  that  turns  into  excitement .   excitement  that  turns  to  frenzy .   mossy  tree  trunks .   a  pair  of  yellow  eyes  in  the  darkness .   night  swimming .   moonlight  through  the  leaves .   a  bass  beat  in  your  chest .   a  butterfly  landing  on  your  nose .   a  kiss  from  a  stranger .   a  dark  hallow  in  an  old  tree .   glow  in  the  dark  paint .   drinking  on  an  empty  stomach .   a  twig  breaking  behind  you .   spinning  until  you’re  dizzy .   finding  glitter  on  your  body  and  not  remembering  where  it  came  from .   an  overgrown  path  through  the  woods .   cool  dew  on  your  skin .   a  dream  that  fades  with  waking .   moths  drawn  to  the  light .   giving  yourself  over ,  completely .   afterglow .   the  long ,  loving ,  velvety  night .

 ✧ tagged by :   @godborn​ my wife <3  ✧ tagging :  All of u whomst see it

[starprint-a]

@godborn​       ╱      meme  still  accepting !!     ╱      giorno.                                         “   you  steady  me  and  stir  me  all  at  once   ”     

❛     all  at  once,    huh   ?   hmmmm,     that’s  quite  contradictory  you  know,    but  coming  from  you  i  can  believe  that.      ❜      he’s  lounging  in  the  office,      hip  placed  against  the  table  and    an  arm  leaning  over  scattered  papers,     his  pistol  occupying  his  free  hand  as  he  inspects  it  thoroughly.     it  was  dirty,     chipped,    and  he  definitely  needed  to  buy  more  ammo  soon.    though  it  looks  like  he’s  not  paid  much  mind  to  giorno’s  words,     it’s  quite  the  opposite.    but  mista  had  never  been  the  type  to  overthink  things,     and  if  something  moved  or  touched  his  heart,    it  was  something  that  he  needn’t  be  surprised  about,    nothing  he  had  to  be  overly  showy  about  either.    giorno  knew  this,     of  course.    

❛     seriously,     if  i  did  both,     i’d  be  worried  i  was  rocking  you  about.     mmm,    but  saying  that.    i  must  be  doing  a  good  job.    ❜        there’s  a  light  chuckle  in  his  words,    placing  the  gun  back  inside  his  pants  and  leaning  across  the  table  further  to  where  giorno  sat.     ❛   it’s  not  very  appropriate,    saying  something  like  that  now.    it’s  a  bit  embarrassing.   what  if  someone  comes  in  ?     ❜      really,    now  that  just  wasn’t  fair.     but  it’s  clear  he’s  joking,    and  not  paying  mind  to  his  own  words,    evident  as  he  hums  lightly.       ❛      well.    not  that  i  care  about  that  anyway.     ❜

[nochiquinn]

The Saga of Edda-Earth book 3 part 1: and that’s what you missed on glee

(hey I do these for fun and they’ll never be behind a paywall or anything but they take a LONG TIME and if you like them and want to throw a dollar my way I would be very appreciative. paypal.me | ko-fi)

Our Story to Date

this is a solid fifteen pages

In between the whistles and thumps from the west, Solinus could hear the boy calling for his mother. Oh, gods. Yes, it’s a trap. Yes. I’m going to spring it.

that’s our boy

“What are you?” Panic and glee at the same time. 

Legionnaire. Twenty-fifth Legion, levy force.

also a godborn, but idk if that would scare the kid or not

Latirian sounded angry, and Solinus watched her face harden. She could look surprisingly like Aunt Sig, sometimes.

looks like lassair wound up using that dna template after all

“I watched Baal-Hamon die,” Rig said, dropping all illusion, and stood in the door of the radiological room, his assault rifle in his hands. “Dagon and Baal-Samem, too.”

now you’re just bragging.

(side note, I looked up the term daeva - which is what’s possessing the little boy - and wiki’s definition is “a term for a particular sort of supernatural entity with disagreeable characteristics” and I have no idea why that’s making me laugh as hard as it is)

“I see you have all been busy,” Sigrun said, her voice weary as she stepped forwards into the room, having taken Solinus’ wounds.

The only thing that’s wrong in this house is me. “Nothing new to report.” Apparently, my condition has been present for some time.

Oh, her body was still cursedly young, and she couldn’t deny that some evenings she did feel somewhat twitchy...

that’s what trennus is for

I might have powers I never asked for, but that does not make me a goddess, or worthy.

sigrun. sigrun.

Of course, they thought they could contact the dead this way, in spite of everything I said. All they ever called were Veil spirits, but that did not stop them. Humans are like that.

I love Prometheus

I have seen Emberstone in all your minds. I would greatly have enjoyed meeting him, I think. A powerful mind and an irreverent spirit. Kin!

excuse you, I am kanmikin. no doubles.

You seem unwilling or unable to claim the power and the privileges that are yours by right of battle, but all too eager to embrace the responsibility. The victor has the right to the spoils, my friend. Nith swiveled his head around on his neck, and exhaled frost crystals at her. I thought it best to remind people who you are. Including you. Though the message appeared to go unheard.

Nith tries so hard

And I hate the sound of it. If I could tear my Name out of myself and become nothing at all, I would.

The dragon lurched to his feet, and slammed into her, hard enough to knock her into the wall, and pin her there. Never say that! Never say that again! You are my friend, and I will not see you treat yourself so!

“stop saying mean things about my friend!”

Nith snorted at her until she reluctantly used othersight

I’m just picturing Nith spraying ice on her when she acts stupid like spraying a cat with water

She pulled the hood of her cloak up around her face, and noted, curiously, that the white feathers had turned night-black. The Veil, she thought. It warps everything it touches.

You know when you’re trying to counter someone’s depression and they just keep coming up with reasons why you’re wrong and they’re actually terrible? This is like that except it’s me yelling at a book on my phone at 3 am.

Mimir, who has nothing left to fight with besides his teeth, for his ability to manifest anything more than his head was lost long ago.

look, he was easily the best character in dad of war

Lassair is . . . doing whatever Lassair wishes to do.

damn straight she is

“I am who I am,” she said, desperately. “Is it not enough that I will live this lie for you?”

It’s not a lie! It is a literal real thing that is happening to you at this very moment!

If you take charge of your image now, you can be who you wish to be, instead of whom they invent you as.

get a good pr rep

[Nith] hesitated. It would be nice to be able to seek a mate. That has never been an option.

[coughs]

If you wish me to make the attempt, I would consider it. But I think it best if I should wait. A surprisingly gentle touch on her mind. I say ‘we two’ to you, but Steelsoul has not heard this yet. And a human form would be . . . threatening. Steelsoul would not understand.

threaten him then

Solinus went flame-form, burning his sheet to ash.

sol just stay in human torch form until this is over

She was fond enough of Lassair, but she really rather thought that the spirit had taken advantage of Trennus’ good nature over the years.

she’s....not wrong

So these unwanted gifts might not be such horrible things? Saraid pressed, gently. Sigrun shrugged. It didn’t matter. The powers were not hers. They had not been asked for, or earned.

You know, I think it amusing that everyone except for Lassair calls Trennus Worldwalker. I think it suits him far more than Flamesower. One shows what he is to everyone. The other only shows what he is to Lassair. Sigrun had long since learned the art of turning aside most difficult conversations. Prometheus, Freya, and Tyr could not be put aside. Saraid? Saraid was simple to divert. 

As Saraid’s spluttering embarrassment quickly proved.

the cuteness of this exchange does not get you out of addressing your issues, SIGRUN

The result was a kind of tunnel-vision that didn’t let him see much outside of the fifty-square-mile area in which he was currently positioned.

>> tunnel vision >> fifty square miles

godborn

And Stormborn? The black cloak stayed the same, but sometimes, she looked like an ancient crone, white hair tumbling free, and every rune-mark on her body was a bleeding wound. And sometimes, he caught sight of something else. Something emerging from her, like a phoenix from the egg. The black cloak was the same, but inside the folds, he could see shimmers that looked like a night sky, full of stars. Instead of the crone’s white locks, pale copper hair tugged loose from a braid, whipping on the wind, and electrical sparks crackled here and there in it. Her face, when she turned back to look at him, was shrouded by her hood, but the features were young, though her eyes were as old as night. Surrounded by the black hood, every inch of her skin blazed with radiance, illumined from within by the rune-marks, and her spear, balanced in front of her, crackled with blue-white light, as well.

long quote, but she’s still the same at her core. she’ll always be the same at her core.

[...] when he’d come of age and entered the Legion, he’d periodically prayed to and cursed at his father. It probably did no good, but everyone needed something to focus on when they were being shot at.

I cuss my dad, too. It’s therapeutic.

Several of us are concerned that such energy leaks will not only damage the earth, but the actual dimension in which this world resides. Tears could develop. Flaws. Fractures.

I maintain that she played more of Inquisition than she let on. Or Bioshock Infinite.

Let me offer you healing, so that you might know our good intentions. I ask nothing in return. This is a gift.

Sig. Sig no. Jorgamand big snake. Big snake got big boo-boo. Sig no.

Freya’s tone was stern. Rig wasn’t sure that Jormangand would take that well. Freya’s words were a leash, a check on the enraged creature. And, sure enough, it lashed out at the closest creature in fury at Freya’s words.

mom-voice is not effective here

Precise angle and aim, to avoid any back-blast, and he clearly waited until Jormangand once more belched fire at him . . . and met it with deathfrost.

next time on dragonball z

He called Aunt Sig a goddess. And said she had more of my father’s power in her, than I did. His mind was numb to wonder at the moment, however, and his reaction was therefore muted. Something . . . something to ask her about, assuming I survive the next couple of hours. And assuming she’s all right.

that conversation will go well

And the dragon himself—reduced in size to that of a lindworm, and sprawled on the floor beside her

puppy

She needed to start moving as the old, dead skin sloughed off, to ensure that the new skin didn’t grow in too tightly

that is a grisly thing to know to do out of habit

I am used to going first into battle, and others backing me up, knowing that I will take the brunt of an enemy’s attention, and that their role is to use their magic and their weapons from a distance to destroy it, while I . . . occupy it.

“I’m a tank main, what do you want from me.”

But I do not understand why you hate your Name. It is who you are. Hate it, and you hate yourself.

congratulations, you solved sig’s self-loathing puzzle

And until this moment, because of the unremitting pain, the necessity of healing, and the not-warm-not-cool temperature around her in this place, she hadn’t even registered that she was as naked as if she were at a Roman bath, or at the sea-shore.

I never believe this. How do you not feel your own naked?

The woman there was bleeding. Hundreds of wounds, a flayed goddess, like Xipe Totec was a flayed god. I thought I had healed! She looked down at her arms. Nothing there but clean skin. No burns. No wounds. 

[...] That is how you see yourself, Stormborn. If you persist in this imagining, it will become your reality.

freya tried to tell you

How I wish I could tell Adam about this, she thought, and a tear crept down her cheek. How I wish I could.

there are so many other, better, more understanding people in your life

He knew when people were telling half-truths. He’d seen a lot of them tonight, and it was getting on his nerves. His security clearance was active and valid, and he’d taken down gods with everyone at the table.

it’s because nobody likes you, adam

Humans like to believe that they are the pinnacle of creation. No. I was never human. No more than Stormborn is. Nith's voice was calm, but his tail lashed. There is no special virtue in being human, specifically. But I do remember being other than I am now.

I like Nith.

“And yet, to this day, you do not value humanity?” Adam raised his eyebrows, the expression doubtless lost to darkness. 

I did not say that I do not value humans. You, and your belief, your love, and your hate are what makes this planet . . . interesting. Spirits could go to your Mars, but it was of little interest save to elementals, until life and sapience came to it, too. The dragon’s sense of careful indifference returned. I value humans. I simply know that I am not one of you. I am other. 

“Could you regain your humanity?” Adam asked. The implications for Sigrun made him key in, rapidly. 

What value would I have, were I human? I could not fly. I could not fight as I do. I could not move freely from the Veil to the stars and back again. 

“But distance from humanity is usually what turns people into monsters,” Trennus said, quietly. 

Monster, you say? Am I such? Nith’s tone was  chilly. Are the fenris? The jotun?

Trennus held up a hand. “Sociopaths. Serial killers. And, dare I say it, gods like . . . Hel. Too distant from humanity to care about the individual anymore.” Tren sounded deeply concerned. 

I would suggest that sometimes, distance is necessary for . . . perspective. Is there not a  distance between the commander and the commanded? Detachment is a very necessary thing, for a god-born that intends to survive the centuries.

looong quote, but nith is trying to lead them away from human-as-default, and they’re all being very thick. even trennus. tren why.

“Last I checked, lictors don’t usually rate bodyguards of their own.” Part of him rebelled. It’s my job to protect her.

Please remove your fucking male ego from this conversation

He hoped she still loved him, and that she wasn’t staying with him merely out of...duty and obligation.

If you had nothing to offer someone, besides yourself, no paycheck, and just a pile of debts . . . you shouldn’t get hand-fasted, in Maccis’ opinion. You had to prove yourself worthy, and stay that way.

Money is a garbage reason to not get married. And anyway what happened to “grabbing happiness while you can”???

The small creature hopped and waddled closer to Nith’s enormous forepaw, and stared up at the dragon. And then creeled at him, appealingly. 

I am not here to play with you, no. 

Another creel.

Give me a baby lindworm or give me death

They understand that there is one male leader, and his queen, and all others follow behind them.

wolves live in family units and share leadership

Mine, the young man said, quickly. I will be your hostage, Fenris. I am the son of the Lady of the Wilds and Worldwalker. If any betray you, you may feel free to bite off my hand . . . or even take my life. And while I am your guarantee, I ask that you teach me. [...] Zee. Damn it. Zaya may actually kill me for this. She might have the right to, too.

Sure sex is great, but have you ever bound yourself to a giant god-wolf in exchange for their service in a war against mad godlings, without telling your maybe-fiance?

Saraid manifested. I do not plan to fight either of them, but it is my forest that they are destroying, and my people, who have looked to me for protection under those branches for thousands of years! The thought was savage, and Trennus blinked.

Saraid’s finally tired of sharing. 

“Where are the gods?” someone shouted, hysterically. “Call to them! Call to Toutatis the protector, the crafter, Taranis the thunderer, Nodens of the sea, and to the Morrigan! Call to Cernunnos!

“look how many Celtic gods I know”

Trennus froze, his mind working. Not just the people. The people aren’t enough. People without their land, without their homes, without their places of employment . . . are just another group of displaced refugees. No home. No purpose. No industry. My people without their land . . . would hardly know what to do with themselves. They wouldn’t be themselves. They would be another wave of lost refugees, in perpetual search of a home they can never regain.

trennus

It can’t be just the people, wild-heart. It can’t be just a building or two, either. I mean to take my home there. Our home, Saraid.

trennus whatcha doin

“My brother said to evacuate our people. That is exactly what I’m doing,” Trennus said, grimly.

trennus this is unwise

She has never chosen to release me, and I love her, and always will . . . but you were there first. Patient, quiet, and abiding. I should have understood so many things when I was young. Lassair is passion. But you are the stone that endures and the green things that grow. You are the wilderness, hunter and hunted. And you are love, and all that abides. Trennus leaned down, and kissed her, very gently. If I die here today? I die very well indeed.

I have a Thing about this that I’ll get into later but also Trennus is being a very sweet idiot right now

They are not listening. They were sweet, biddable children, and then they turned into adults with minds of their own.

funny how that happens

She’d given them life, and yet they didn’t see her or know her, and she did not understand how that was possible.

Because being a mother is more than just giving life. Honestly, to my own chagrin, I compare this to the Duggars - they have so many kids that the youngest were raised by the oldest, and don't see their parents as actual *parents*. (Well, Trennus tried.) And Lassair had a kid whenever she wanted, thinking they were gifts to Trennus instead of living, breathing creatures that require care and love, and denied both of them a meaningful relationship.

The soul-bond snapped free, and for a moment, Lassair was completely bereft. She could feel masses of energy leaving her, and recoiling back to him. She wasn’t, again, precisely lessened by this, but she was missing her most important conduit . . . but she still had the children. They still bound her to this realm. Her anchor-points in reality. And she was still bound to Flamesower by love. Perhaps . . . perhaps that would be enough.

You gotta make your own bonds and not rely on people feeling like they owe you out of love or familial connection.

But as he’d said, and said truly to Saraid, Lassair was fire; she was passion. Passion consumed. And then, when there was no more fuel, it might turn to the warm embers of a gentle, abiding love. 

Or it burned itself out, leaving only ashes.

I HAVE A THING I’M GONNA SAY ABOUT THIS 

He was spirit-touched—god-touched, if he was going to be honest about it. And now all his power was coming home to him. He was what Akhenaten and Sayri Cusi, the Sapa Inca, had wished to become . . . but while they had wrestled and forced and broken to achieve it, Worldwalker had done it by peaceful bargaining, by partnerships and alliances and good will. He had become a god. A little one, perhaps, a demigod . . . but still a god.

welcome to the god squad

You must enter the Veil physically to maintain that conduit for periods of time. Every winter, if not six months a year.

trensephone

Veilic energy

this is the only time she uses this word in this entire doorstopper of a series and that is a CRIME

There had been talk of expanding the station into a cylinder, years ago

you made the Citadel

Relax and be one with me.

👀

Interrogation? That was not my intention. I plan to drop him once I achieve suitable altitude. The rocket offended me.

nith is the only valid character

An hour later, she was loading lindworm eggs into a sack that Minori had given her—something Amaterasu had made, apparently. No matter how much material was loaded into it, it still looked only half-full, and the thing needed, always rose to hand.

I love when you can tell authors play D&D

And that is well and good, but how, precisely, are you serving humans now, by trying to be one of them, when you are not, and never truly were? I think it may be time to acknowledge the simple truth of what you are . . . . 

“What, above them?”

A goddess. You are a goddess. Jesus Christ.

You are above them, but I do not mean it in any arrogant fashion. Think of it this way, if you would: You have been promoted.

Yeah! Good metaphor!

So there is precedent, then, for you to accept that you will require distance from the rank and file. And that there is nothing here about which to feel shame.

NITH IS THE ONLY VALID CHARACTER

Intimacy meant not going on separate trips for pleasure’s sake. That one shouldn’t go off alone for a day or two at a time with a member of the opposite gender (or the same gender, if one’s inclinations led that way) also seemed to go without saying.

1. Sometimes people need alone time to decompress, this is normal and healthy 2. People of different genders can be friends

Excluding one’s spouse from enjoyed activities was also a grand way to invite jealousy and separation into a relationship.

if your spouse is a shitty possessive child, yes

LIKE I’ve been in the same relationship for 5 years. Cohabitation, co-parenting, everything but filing jointly. We have differing interests, and interests that overlap. If it’s not something we do together, we still talk to each other about it. We still engage with each other. Having interests that don’t overlap with your partner’s is not a death knell for the relationship. 

If one spouse’s only interest was watching the far-viewer, and the other was intellectually or physically active—a philosopher, a scientist, an athlete, or an outdoorsman—the relationship was doomed, unless the far-viewer watcher could get off the couch and participate in life.

oh fuck off

She couldn’t share her . . . entity-self with him. But she also wouldn’t allow it to destroy what they had.

sigrun’s views on relationships are the cause of so much of her stress

Sigrun hoped that Adam wouldn’t look out a window at that precise moment. He could find out afterwards, after she’d seen if she could do anything for Trennus or not.

Alright. Alright. Look. This is a legit life and death emergency. I will give Adam the benefit of the doubt here and assume he is okay with you attending to the emergency before seeing him.

Kanmi had teased him, mercilessly, about the crush Kanmi had supposed Trennus had on her. Sigrun had never really seen any signs of it

that’s because you’re just a smidge oblivious, sig

Sigrun’s breath caught in her chest, in silent acknowledgment of the bond of unspoken love between them

Sig’s part of the polyblob now no takebacks

It is no bad thing, to be the fire of the hearth. It is no crime to be the mother. But you took your sister aspects into yourself, at least their poor Names, when their essences were torn asunder, long ago. You were the eldest then, the essence of spring, and a maiden. The mother and the youngest and coldest, who was death, joined with you, and you were three-in-one. And now, you are the mother, and they are shadows within you.”

That wasn’t Min’s voice. It was definitely Amaterasu’s, and Sigrun shuddered at hearing it. 

But I am more than that! 

Sigrun stared at the floor. “Freya told me not long ago, that I must shape myself, or others will shape me,” she said, her heart empty. “Shape yourself, Lassair. Make yourself who you wish to be. There isn’t anyone here who wouldn’t help you—even Trennus would, and you know it.

Lassair is part of the god squad now - well, she kind of was before, but Things Happened - and is having an identity crisis

“Is this the place of reward or the place of punishment?” It was clearly an attempt at a joke. “Either way, I didn’t think I rated three queens to see me to my rest.”

SIG IS PART OF THE POLYBLOB NOW NO TAKEBACKS

Min shook her head rapidly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Hurt in her voice, a small preview of what Sigrun could expect from Adam, if Adam ever realized what she was.

it’s the secret-keeping, not the godhood! and min is literally carrying a goddess in her brain, she not only would have understood, she could have helped.

Nith was currently covered in Matrugena children, to the dragon’s evident disbelief.

that’s fucking adorable

“. . . that god-born wrap themselves around some moment of crisis or pain, and forge their whole identity around it, never changing, in all their long lives?” Sigrun shrugged. 

“That was it, yes. I thought it was apt.” Minori folded her hands in front of her. “Is that true of you?” 

Sigrun sighed. “My moment of crisis hasn’t happened yet

No, your moment of crisis was your shitty stepmother being shitty, and it shaped your whole perception of yourself. ABUSE COUNTS AS A CRISIS you just can’t remember it because ptsd

“Leave the trees alone.”

I AM THE LATIRIAN I SPEAK FOR THE TREES

“What happens if the trees are intelligent enough to tell who actually caused the fire?” 

“Intelligent trees.”

sounding kinda xenophobic

Eisa sounded uncomfortable. “Mother’s not here. She’s, ah . . . moved out. Sort of.”

“Mother” is Lassair, and here’s the thing I wanted to talk about.  I am not upset that Lassair left; it was important for her character growth. What upsets me is that in what I've read of this author (which, in fairness, is this and Spirit of Redemption but that’s roughly 4000 hours of reading time put together) there are two whole polyamorous relationships (unless I'm forgetting one from the Caesarion books) and both of them lose a member because of some personal revelation. And as a person in a long-term polyblob, it bothers me! The idea that polyam relationships only last until one person realizes what they REALLY want. Just. Have a healthy polyam, for fuck's sake.

But he was sixty-three, and at that stage of life, it took a little more effort to adapt to sudden changes than it had when he’d been younger.

Bullshit, Adam’s just a prick

“Though for a couple of decades, people have been talking about microclimate change here . . . .”

that would be thanks to your wife and her girlfriends

After forty years of marriage . . . all right, not really marriage, but close enough

fuck you, they were married

But I thought they were . . . forever. I mean, look at how many children they have . . . .

Children do not a healthy relationship make

Harah. She put her nose into this triangular relationship and that’s just going to wind up pulling us in . . .

sig done been in it, you’re just a tool

“Gods damn it, Adam, if you were handed a pill that cured arthritis and gave you another ten years, you’d take the damned pill. But even though you’ll accept magic put on your bullets, you’ll carry a god-touched weapon, and you’ll agree to contracts with house-spirits, you won’t accept a magic effect that would do the same thing as the pill?” Trennus was as irritated as Adam had ever seen him.

same fucking hat

“Let me put it to you this way. I’m probably about to be made king of the Picts. You will be offending the ruler of a small nation if you do not visit me in my court.”

I mean Adam offends me

Adam could even see a handful of Chaldean flying carpets in the air—a few with fenris aboard, of all things—accompanied by flights of harpies. “They’re not frightened of it,” Adam said, suddenly. That said something to him. “Something this strange, people should be avoiding it.”

you’re strange and people should avoid you

Yes, but I’m not alien to humanity, Adam thought. I’m the only one of all my friends who can . . . still claim that.

your friends aren’t aliens, you soggy donut, and you’re not better than them for having remained as you are

Was it not a bad neighborhood, not long ago? A drycleaner and a row of empty shops, with graffiti in three languages?”

graffiti does not make a bad neighborhood, sig

Sigrun’s eyes narrowed, and there was a faint tingle in the air, as from static electricity, a sensation like a storm was about to strike. “Reginleif.” Her tone was flat.

“I had not realized that Niðhoggr could change his size, that he could speak, or that he would condescend to use me as a throw-pillow.”

 It was that, or chew-toy.

only valid character

A sword—a simple Roman shortsword, used by legates and tribunes and centurions to denote rank—had somehow been slipped into the poured stone.

Livorus :(

The face in Fritti’s mind clarified. He was the teacher, the mentor, the friend, the lover, the mysterious father, the lord of lies, the master of illusion and trickery, and the sacrificed god, all at once.

People are complicated, gods are shaped by their people, the circle of stupidity is complete

Come home, she thought, standing, and put all the force of her gift from Baldur and the Evening Star into it. For an instant, she wondered what either of them would think of her choice to use this gift to bring back Loki. Loki had supposedly slain—or was supposed to slay—Baldur, after all. [...] It doesn’t matter. They gave us our powers, as Sigrun once told me, in the expectation that we would use our judgment. Today I am a valkyrie. Today, I choose life.

Fritti ❤

Fritti suddenly found her face burning in the darkness. Did they hear . . . ? 

I muffled your sounds. Or did I? His tone became musing. I may have been distracted . . . .

perils of schtupping a trickster god

Naglfar, Loki said, his voice intrigued. It was the name of the boat that would supposedly bring the survivors of Ragnarok to safety. Your Name has changed, Sigrun Stormborn. Your wyrd has changed. I did not expect this.

fuck yeah

“I considered that, but taverna owners object to decapitations beside the salad bar. Unhygienic.”

keep that shit in the bbq pit where it belongs

“Undersea seismological events?”  A clatter so loud she thought the chimes might have impaled themselves in the ceiling.

that’s how you know it’s kanmi

Amaterasu’s vision swam across Minori’s eyes, and for an instant, she could see a small, amorphous blob that looked vaguely like a jellyfish made of red light, bobbing around the room.

kanmiblob

Lassair sank in on herself. Why are we talking about this? This is not why I came here.

“I wanted to bang, not get lectured about my maturity.”

A little breath of wind across her face. “You’re stronger right now, aren’t you?” 

Yes. One word, breathed in her ear. Minori closed her eyes on the sudden sting of tears. This was all the validation she needed. 

“Because I told her no? Or because you’re angry with her right now?” 

The breeze caressed her, but no other words whispered themselves against her ear.

Kanmi subsists entirely on anger, we all know that

I can almost feel Kanmi readying himself to throw chalk at me every time I do so.” 

Minori laughed out loud, and caught sight, behind Sigrun, of a book slowly opening and riffling through its own pages.

Kanmi don't be a dick

Sigrun looked down. “Yes, Min.” She sighed. “So Nith reminds me on almost a daily basis.” 

From across the room, a piece of chalk winged itself at Sigrun, who jumped slightly and stared at Minori. “Not me,” Min said, spreading her hands, but she could feel her own smile spreading across her face now. Sigrun’s eyes widened slightly, and she stared around the room, her expression faintly confused.

the return of Esh the Bastard

“I’d tell you to tell Adam to believe—”

“but fuck that guy”

Half the girls Zaya had known who’d taken their basic diploma, were now married, and half of them were pregnant.

Military marriage culture

He shifted form, slowly, in front of the younglings, keeping to a crouch, so he’d look smaller. These children were Goths of some variety . . . they’d probably been raised with public nudity in Roman baths and pools, sporting arenas and beaches. Still, there was no reason to risk shocking either of them further.

penises are shocking

She’d patted them on their heads, and offered them fresh meat to eat—human, naturally, which had only traumatized the children further.

found the cannibalism

“Apparently, he makes his new followers eat their former leaders. After he picks out the brains for himself.”

found more cannibalism

I would like you and your people to circle in and go after the leader. Capture if possible. Kill if there’s no other option.” 

And then what, daughter of Tyr? Fenris bared his teeth. Bind him?

I feel like Fenris might have some unresolved issues

“Talk to Saraid. Fenris wouldn’t stop you. And you’d feel less disconnected.”

call your dang mom, maccis

“I am taking advice on the writing of love letters from a dragon, while crouching naked in the snow,” Maccis muttered. 

“I didn’t want to point that out,” Sigrun noted

tfw you look at your life from the outside fir a second and realize how weird everything is

The earliest known production of steel had been in Anatolia, four thousand years ago, and some had been produced in East Africa fourteen hundred years before Caesar, but in both cases, the technology simply hadn’t been adopted on a wider scale. The earliest large-scale production had been in India and Sinhala, and it had been picked up and spread north through Qin and west through Persia. By four hundred years before Caesar, steel had been in use in the Roman Empire . . . but only for weapons.

there WILL be a quiz

A certain amount of distance is necessary, if you wish to retain your sanity. If you allow yourself to love mortals, as a mortal does, then you are bound to suffer when they die. And suffer you will, over and over and over again. In time, all you will see in a newborn is the inevitability of their death.

I mean that just sounds like having anxiety but go off I guess

A brief, highly male thought entered Brandr’s head

Being inappropriately sexual isn't "male", it's gross.

he wondered if her lustrous black wings would get in her way if she was on her back in bed, or if she’d prefer, for her own comfort, for her lover to taker her on her hands and knees.

There's something here about not even considering if she'd want to be on top but I'm too tired to find it

“N-not Hellene.”

(this is also not entirely how stammers work)

“T-tell . . . L-loki . . . to . . . to t-take . . .” he stopped, and inhaled. “To take b-back his d-damned m-mem . . . memories. I would r-rather re-remember the truth. Even if it is that I d-did vile d-deeds. Or let me r-remember n-nothing at all. B-better that th-than a . . . f-fucking lie.” He balled up a fist. It had taken so damned long to say it all.

Yeah, stammering or stuttering is displayed within a set of sounds, or with a kind of aphasia, or as stretching out sounds in the middle of words, not just catching the start of every word. I get that it's probably easier to read, but if you're already having him limit his own speech, just spell it out. 

But no. Fenris, in the midst of a hunt, was implacable, and mere geography did not deter him. Without access to the Veil, he’d long since learned to tighten the surface bonds of water so that he could run atop it. He could even run on empty air. And so long as the pack stayed close enough to him, they all shared in his narrow path of solid-surfaced water.

Just run your whole pack across the ocean, nbd

a central market area, or a playa

oh good, we’re back to this

Maccis pounced on the back of one of the statues, as the stone began to crack, and light radiated out of it, as the god began to make himself manifest. He raked and tore with all four lindworm paws, not expecting to do much against stone . . . but at least I’ll distract one of them . . . .

trying to join the family business

[thessalian]

Watcher!Mych vs Neketaka

Watcher!Mych: Okay, so we’ve got information about Serafen’s former captain...

Serafen: Thanks for that, cap’n. Also, apologies for nearly blowing our stealth there.

Watcher!Mych: ...and killed some things...

Aloth: Should I even ask why you took their heads?

Watcher!Mych: Because they’re the kind of assholes that will probably have a price on those heads somewhere?

Aloth: One of them’s a dragon.

Watcher!Mych: People take out bounties on dragons! And if not, I’m sure we can find someone who’s into taxidermy to stuff it so I can mount it on my wall. Anyway, I’m getting invites from Pirate Queen Whatsherface and the Principi ships are apparently leaving me alone...

Crewman: VAILIAN SHIP IN PURSUIT! ALL HANDS!

Watcher!Mych: So I just have to stop everybody else from attacking me.

(Two attacks by very well-equipped ships later...)

Eder: Life’s never gonna be boring with you, is it?

Watcher!Mych: At least we learned how to run away from overpowered jackasses who want our little ship.

Serafen: Crew’s none too happy about that, by the bye.

Watcher!Mych: They’d rather be dead? Because that’s what would have happened. Deadness.

Serafen: Eh, just serve ‘em some rum and it’ll be right.

Watcher!Mych: They’re having seafood stew. I need the rum for some other recipe.

Aloth: Fancy seafood?

Watcher!Mych: *grin* Explosives.

Aloth: ...Well, you did sneak one up on that dragon quite effectively...

(Later, on Neketaka)

Bounty Guy: I need the head of a particular mad wizard and a particular dragon and--

Watcher!Mych: Done! *looks at Aloth*

Aloth: Yes, yes, you told me so.

Watcher!Mych: Look, would you prefer to tease me about that, or about your ... ahem ... ‘friend’ upstairs?

Aloth: My friend? What about your new dwarven sidekick?

Watcher!Mych: Well, if you find him distracting, I’m sure he’ll actually put on clothes for missions...

Eder: Okay, now, let’s break this up. Where to next?

Watcher!Mych: Fancy-ass bathhouse to find the next person who knows Serafen’s captain’s whereabouts.

Aloth: Wonderful. More naked people.

Serafen: Gotta say, this is my kind of adventure!

(Later, at the Watershapers’ Guild)

Aloth: Mychae ... first the xaurip ... then the imp ... then the bath-dwarf ... now ... this.

Watcher!Mych: Hey, Tekehu is capable, he’s competent, he wants an in to the palace and we’re already going that way, and having a watershaper around is probably a good thing if we’re spending a huge amount of time on the sea, okay?

Eder: Also reckon she wants a godborn around ‘cos she misses Pallegina.

Watcher!Mych: I was not going to get her killed! It’s not my fault the Vailians are short-sighted assholes!

Tekehu: Plus I imagine my ... other credentials had some appeal?

Watcher!Mych: Actually, I kind of want another godborn around because a couple of the gods said things about draining their children and given how Ondra was just talking about your power at me, I’m starting to have some suspicions about what that meant, and if I’m going to fight against that, I’m going to do it as “That’s my friend” instead of as an arbitrary concept.

Tekehu: I am a shark, not a canary in a coal mine.

Serafen: Yeah, but wouldn’t it be good to be nice to the woman who stands to argue against you bein’ fodder for a god-feast?

Tekehu: ...That is a marvellous point.

[jungle321jungle]

Book Rants: The Storm Runner by J.C. Cervantes

Book Rants: The Storm Runner by J.C. Cervantes

Page 304 out of 426.

That’s the page I’m on as I’m writing this because I lowkey can’t stand it anymore.

What I can’t stand is The Storm Runner, by J.C. Cervantes.

I’m not gonna touch on all the representation and all of that or anything. Simply because well, I need to rant. So, if you’re looking for a spoiler free review I’ll make it short for ya: Zane exists. He has a dog. He meets a girl. He’s told not to do the thing. He does the thing. Evil dude is released. Goes on a mission to put evil dude back with girl and uncle. And uh I haven’t finished the book so I can’t say more than that right now. Anyway to the rant!

Warning this rant will be a certified mess. I’m just writing whatever comes to mind.

The first thing which pissed me off about this book, is Zane himself. Like this kid- God. So Zane is your main character and he has a limp, and he’s a godborn, and he kinda likes the girl. And he’s trying to undo everything he did.

That’s legit all I can say about his character rn that’s not negative.

So Zane, Zane, Zane’s inner voice. The monologue of the story. Is just so bad. Here’s so examples of actual lines from this book from the most recent section I read.

"It was party city!"

"If only they knew I was godborn, too. And not just related to any god, but Hurakan, the creator and destroyer!"

Like cringe? I don’t know what else I can say besides the word cringe.

Like I have seen reviews where people says Zane’s voice is Percy-esque. And what annoys me is that’s true. But only a small percent of the time. It flips between lines I just read, to bland, to boring and then you get a full on sarcastic thing and it just seems badly timed and out of place for Zane. There’s one I just read but I’m not gonna torture myself with trying to find it.

Another thing which annoyed me about Zane is how forgettable he is? Like he’s the main character that shouldn’t be possible. But like when reading this there was about a three month gap in between me putting the book down and picking it back up a few days ago. And while reading a few days ago I could remember what had happened in the last chapter but I couldn’t remember Zane’s name.

So I text my friends as I read to vent. And I literally sent: “wow i read like four chapters and i didn't realize until now when it was mentioned that i forgot mcs name”

I shouldn’t be able to forget his name.

So another thing which annoys me about Zane are his decisions and how it moves the plot. But before we even touch the plot let me touch on the other characters.

First off Brooks.

She’s the mysterious girl who’s there to help, the living expert on Maya everything. And a girl so full of secrets and depression she belongs back in 2003.

Oh and she can turn into a hawk... until she can’t.

Next up we got Hondo.

Hondo is my fav of the three. He’s Zane’s uncle and he’s there for the wild ride just because. Like I’m sure there’s a logical reason? I think it was just cause they needed someone with a car? I can’t remember it was three months ago. Actually it could be longer, cause before that last time I had set the book down for a long time too. Anyway he has the best personality. And I would pay to see him be the main character instead.

So while my favorite of the three is Hondo, my favorite character is actually Ah-Puch. Mr. Evil Dude himself. He’s more interesting than the other three combined, and I just read when broke into the Twins’ lair and all that jazz and I got so happy. To be honest I much rather watch him destroy the world than anything else.

Of course my happiness was immediately undermined as it always is with this book, but I’ll say more about that in a sec.

So the plot... Oh the plot.

I will say the plot on the whole is brutally fine. The gist is that Zane is the prophecy kid (cause we’re in the realm of Riordan) and he's supposed to be the one to free Ah-Puch and he does, because he wants his dog brought back to life. I’m not gonna go into people and love for dogs and all, but I just think a smidge more thought could be put into things? Like theres another point where the seer old lady Ms. Cab tells Zane to stay home ‘cause his house is the only place with special protective wards. And like I didn't expect him to stay there, since the story needs to happen, but it seemed like he didn’t even try to make an effort to stay in the house? It was just like welp, there’s danger and murderous creatures, but nah I need to go talk to my mom.

Like just think a tiny bit more, just a little. Please.

When Ah-Puch shows up at the twins (I’m gonna keep mentioning this part cuz it's what I just read) he was super badass and him and Muwan was super cool. Watching the Twins shake in their boots was a bit satisfying especially because something unexpected was happening. But during that Ah-Puch goes on and on talking about how the Twins are liars and this and that, but like Zane believes every word. He doesn’t even doubt the validity for half a second. This man- this super evil man who wants to destroy everything. Like look Zane may be thirteen but there's gullible and then there's ridiculous.

(Semi off topic: during this scene Brooks just kinda vanishes. She says they need to run then kinda just sits there next to half dead Hondo watching until it's time to remind Zane to run again via telepathy- oh yeah she has telepathy)

Now switching gears to my previous comment about undermining my happiness. It seems like everything I enjoy is immediately shot in the face not much later.

When Zane is doing a coin toss with the Twins, he picks the death side of the coin and the way its written and the fact that the chapter ends with this. It sounds so profound- so powerful.

Then on the next page we learn it’s a mind game the the coin is weighted so he picked the wrong side. Yes, I understand that the Twins always win and whatever and this shows that. But it felt like such a quick switch in tone, in Zane it completely dashed all happiness I just had on the page before. Ah-Puch showing up during deadly basketball is the same thing. I loved reading him swooping in and the glass shattering violently over the crowd, and I thought it wa so cool how he had done that. The Twins thought they were untouchable but then here comes Mr. Evil Dude to destroy it all. It was perfect.

Then you learn he just followed the tracking device he put on Zane.

I will admit I had forgotten about the tattoo deal thing- given my few month break- but had I read this book consistently it wouldn’t have been a surprise whatsoever. It’s super expected. Also I thought it would show just how powerful Ah-Puch is. Even not at full strength,and freshly back in the world he tracked them down and was ready to give them a slow painful death.

LOL NOPE HE FOLLOWED THE LEASH HE PUT ON ZANE.

I hope you can just feel how much I am groaning and sighing right now.

So after that Jazz shows up to save the gang and you’re like cool cool good timing whatever. I’m glad he agreed to come, but then he admits he put cameras in their clothes insert more sighs. So this guy was just watching them agree to play deadly basketball and meet Mr. Evil Ah-Puch and did nothing until the dangerous people were gone? They could’ve used some help sooner Jazz. A lot sooner.

Well, I think I got the rant mostly out of my system purely because I haven’t read the last 100 or so pages, but if you’re probably wondering why I read this book if I can’t get through without getting annoyed.

Honestly I think the whole reasoning is the fact that my boss gave it to me. She was the one who told me about Riordan Presents and gave me the book as a gift. So I think I just feel sort of pushed to finish it (and read the next one she gave me)? Regardless of if that's the reason or not that I keep reading, for some reason I am still pulled into this book?

I am driven insane by it- and yet I still read it, and I might even read the sequel ‘cause I am trash. But I think this factor is what annoys me the most overall.

I want to like this book and I want to hate it. But I can’t do either. It's the definition of a love hate relationship. And I don't think I’ll ever get out of it.

Idk if I’ll post something about the end of the book yet, it depends on how much I want to pull my hair out

Someone please kill me before I finish this thing

[leechangjoons]

Name: Hyunbin | DZ-34 Shifter Form: A monstrous amalgamation of Zeraora, Hyunbin’s fur is a dull blue with yellow highlights, an inverted color palette of the original god. Small spikes protrude down her spine, and she has a tail she cannot retract in her human form.  Appearance: In her human form, Hyunbin is a small woman with dark, messy black hair with a yellow highlight between her scalp. Her fingers are tipped with sparking claws, and has bright yellow tattoos of Zeraora’s pattern on her lower arms, which she covers by wearing baggy clothing such as hoodies. Her blue tail extend out from her pants, a bit too obvious to be easily tucked into or hidden. She wears a loose, broken shock collar around her neck, the circuitry slightly too complex to be easily removed, and often looks tired or defeated. On the small of her back, not unlike Hakjoo and Gojoon, there is a tattoo of Destiny Liminal along with her designation of “DZ-34″.  Personality: Aggressively distrustful and difficult, Hyunbin is understandably wary of any advances and she tends to overcompensate with arrogance or hostility, but she is protective of her fellow experiments being one of the only clones that managed to inherit their memories. Hyunbin laments her lost fate, as well as the fate of her original (who would most likely be dead), and while she craves to return to her “previous” life, is uncertain if she can or even deserves it at this point. She is however fiercely loyal and devoted once you earn her trust, however, and she will go to great ends to ensure nobody else experienced the same fate she had.  History: Originally conceived as a joint Greek-Korean project, the 34th specimen of Project Destiny Liminal began life in a glass tank as a study of a human consciousness being forced to bond with the essence of a god instead of being Chosen as fate would decree. A corrupted clump of fur borne from Zeraora’s travels was procured, and the DNA of an unfortunate residential doctor was then bound to it before the subsequent “egg” was incubated. Many such specimens before DL-36 would’ve perished before hatching, or become stillborn- those who survived grew into irrevocably insane individuals that needed to be put down, unable to handle the sheer power of gods coursing through them. DZ-34 was one of such failures. 

DZ-34 was tortured for six years in her confinement with rapid growth until she was eventually “released” for a swift death due to severe necrosis slowly destroying the cloned body’s form. In her escape, she caused severe property damage and endangered the lives of civilians due to the high speed of her movement and manipulation of plasma to ensure she would not be pursued as much as possible, and this eventually culminated in her being hurled in an arena intended solely for the godborns and a certain cyborg bird, falling in with Monarch Acquisitions after their survival. 

After doing her research with the memories she’d inherited, DZ-34 reverted to her original name of Hyunbin, intending to keep her current form from perishing as much as possible. She’d become friends with the sympathetic Dawnbringer Joonhan in the process, along with a fellow project DA-41, and the three of them ended up riding off towards the small town of Byeonsan in the hope of answers and a cure for them both.  Powers: Hyunbin is able to conduct and dispel electricity by extending and retracting her claws rapidly, and thus form either a barrier of static electricity around herself or accelerate her speed to seem as if she is “teleporting” through rapid bursts of electrical force to propel herself forward. She can also generate powerful magnetic fields through her paw pads, and punch with electrically charged fists to cause as much damage as possible.  Immortal/Semi-Immortal?: Mortal  Alignment: Chaotic Neutral  Other: - 

Name: Hakjoo | DU-31  Shifter Form: A monstrous amalgamation of Urshifu’s Rapid Strike form, Hakjoo’s body is a uniform brick-red form with white patterns along with an additional barbed tail to inflict additional damage with, and even in his human form retains the back paws of the god’s form.  Appearance: In his human form, Hakjoo is a slightly plump man with shortly cropped black hair- he also wears a bandana with both ends extending down his back similar to his shifted form along with a set of metal gauntlets that protect his fists and dispense muscle relaxants. He’s usually clad in a red track jacket with a white collared shirt emblazoned with the symbol of Monarch Acquisitions underneath, along with track pants. Hakjoo usually doesn’t wear shoes due to his paws, and tends to keep his hands in his pockets while conversing. On the small of his back, just like Hyunbin and Gojoon, there is the symbol of Destiny Liminal on it along with his designation of “DU-31″.  Personality: Surprisingly easygoing and relaxed about his lot in life, Hakjoo is usually the mood maker of matters and takes most things into his stride. Being completely amnesiac hasn’t dampened his spirit in wanting to help others, and he carries the flag of Monarch with pride. Most of the time, he’s willing to go with the flow and see where it takes him, and approaches his potentially restored memories with trepidation and fear. He is entirely devoted to his two brothers Sungwoo and Byungeun, and his unwavering fate in them is both his strongest trait and his undoing as he aids them in their exploits without question. Close friends with Hana, a fellow experiment, he rolls with every suggestion she comes up with as well, and they often are partners-in-crime for questionable exploits.  History: Originally conceived as a joint Greek-Korean project, the 31st specimen of Project Destiny Liminal began life in a glass tank as a study of a human consciousness being forced to bond with the essence of a god instead of being Chosen as fate would decree. A corrupted clump of fur borne from Urshifu was procured, and the DNA of a domestic abuser was then bound to it before the subsequent “egg” was incubated. Many such specimens before DL-36 perished before hatching, or become stillborn- those who survived grew into irrevocably insane individuals that needed to be put down, unable to handle the sheer power of gods coursing through them. DU-31 was one such failure. 

Created to be the most erratic and violent of the projects, DU-31′s observations grinded to a halt when he hatched with no memories of his previous life or any of the aggression they’d expected him to have. Due to his rapid growth in the incubator, DU-31 also started experiencing signs of muscle stiffness and paralysis, which meant that he was unable to execute the fighting style the scientists wanted of him. DU-31 was immediately abandoned in a junkyard, lost and confused about where he’d needed to go next, and was eventually picked up by a scavenging Sungwoo, who sensed potential in the amnesiac boy that was struggling along. 

Adopted into the family, DU-31 was christened “Hakjoo” after a heated discussion by the rest of Monarch, and he eventually became trained in covert operations to assist Monarch in information gathering and resource procurement, both items that he tackled with aplomb. He was also outfitted with his gauntlets to allow him to overcome his muscle weakness and fight better: but when a battered Hyunbin showed up, Hakjoo found out that he was in fact an experiment as well, and now has to confront his own past.  Powers: Hakjoo’s endurance is significantly enhanced to superhuman levels, and he is able to deflect even missiles with his flowing style of combat. He is also able to shatter any kind of protective gear effortlessly and know exactly which points to hit for maximum efficiency to prevent drawn-out combat, a skill he uses to his advantage in a fight with close quarters. While fighting hand-to-hand, his movements are also fast to the point of being unseen: you wouldn’t even know you’d been hit.  Immortal/Semi-Immortal?: Mortal (?)  Alignment: Neutral Good  Other: - 

Name: Gojoon | DA-41 Shifter Form: A monstrous amalgamation of Zygarde’s form, Gojoon morphs into a form that is completely white with grey scales, and his various forms all seem to have patches of scales missing more than anything. Even in his human form, Gojoon’s eyes are hexagonal scales and has scales patterning his arms.  Appearance: In his human form, Gojoon is a tan, lanky man with hexagons patterning his limbs and back as if tessellated. He’s usually clad in a long sleeved cardigan and baggy pants to avoid rubbing against the scales too much, along with comfortable, easy to wear sneakers. On the small of his back, just like Hyunbin and Hakjoo, he has a tattoo of the symbol of Destiny Liminal along with his designation of “DA-41″.  Personality: Gojoon is sensitive and intelligent, a direct foil to those who’d created him. Artistic and creative, he tends to see the best in everything he does, and tends to wax lyricals about all that he pursues. Devoted to his cause, however, and often fraught with headaches due to his somewhat passive ability, his pacifistic nature has started seeing a shift in something more violent and defensive than his usual evasive style.  History: Unlike the others who were incubated from eggs, Gojoon was simply kidnapped and spliced forcibly with Zygarde’s DNA in a bid to silence the man after he’d taken photographs of a restricted zone he shouldn’t have access to. After being observed and simply showing no abilities, he was branded, then cryogenically frozen for a year to announce his failure, but was eventually unearthed by a scavenging Hyunbin and curious Joonhan (who was shocked to see his friend of 10 years completely corrupted). 

After escaping and restoring Gojoon’s body after being frozen, the trio fled further into the Six Wyverns Museum, where Joonhan connected with the artefact Magearna, who was presenting as a woman named Goeun. Under Goeun’s protection, they eventually made their way towards Pungdo to stop by, and that was when Joonhan found out that Gojoon at this point was functionally blind and suffered constant migraines from his ability being constantly active. 

Left with little choice, the trio eventually began heading towards Byeonsan, hoping to find clues to solve their condition before it was too late.  Powers: Gojoon is able to passively see through illusions and hidden walls using his new eyes, at the expense of his actual vision. He also is gifted with seismic sense, which he can use to upturn the terrain around him or cause heavy damage. He is also able to gather strength from the surrounding terrain to shift into increasingly powerful forms to devastating effects, though he has not seen the need to use it just yet.  Immortal/Semi-Immortal?: Mortal (?)  Alignment: Lawful Neutral  Other:

Name: Hanna | DG-30 Shifter Form: Hanna’s form appears to be a monstrous amalgamation of Zapdos at first glance: a flightless variant of the thunderbird god with orange feathers and powerful legs. Oddly enough, with no side effects typical of a Destiny Liminal experiment, people are beginning to suspect that Hanna’s body might’ve actually developed a new variant of Zapdos than became mutated...  Appearance: In her human form, Hanna is a thin woman with orange-streaked black hair not unlike her shifted form. She lacks arms, and is often dressed in various comfortable graphic T-shirts or track outfits with the sleeves cut off entirely. She usually wears a pair of track pants to cover most of her legs alongside steel-toed boots with holes cut in their sides to extend her claws if needed and deal devastating kicks with maximum damage. On the small of her back, Hanna has her designation of “DG-30″ tattooed on it, but oddly enough does not have the tattoo of Destiny Liminal above it, instead sporting a strange symbol of a crown that she’s yet to decipher or understand.  Personality: Adventurous and spontaneous, Hanna bounces from quest to quest excitably in her insatiable need to live life to the fullest. Fiercely defiant of her lot in life, she rarely stays in one place in a time to satisfy her wanderlust, what prompts her to return to Pungdo constantly is the existence of her fellow experiment and partner-in-crime Hakjoo, and she’s often seen checking in with him or bumming off Monarch’s resources for her own purposes. She acts recklessly and often against direct orders of her “father” and handler, Sungwoong, more a chaotic force with no allegiance than the enforcer she’s expected to be. Despite her carefree and often standoffish nature, Hana does care quite deeply about her friends and Pungdo itself, hence her willingness to become a scout for them and serve the homeless as befitting her father’s pathos. History: Originally conceived as a joint Greek-Korean project, the 30th specimen of Project Destiny Liminal began life in a glass tank as a study of a human consciousness being forced to bond with the essence of a god instead of being Chosen as fate would decree. A supposedly corrupted feather borne from Zapdos was procured, and the DNA of a task force analyst was then bound to it before the subsequent “egg” was incubated. Many such specimens before DL-36 perished before hatching, or become stillborn- those who survived grew into irrevocably insane individuals that needed to be put down, unable to handle the sheer power of gods coursing through them. DG-30 was one such “failure”. 

A pure coincidence for existing, DG-30 had emerged stable and sane: but due to the strange nature of the Zapdos feather they’d recreated her with, she had tiny wing-like arms that were entirely nonfunctional and eventually amputated. After observations of her growth yielded no development whatsoever, she was eventually sold to the first prospective buyer: the eventual mayor of Pungdo, Sungwoong, who was immediately interested in the feisty and curious woman he’d now acquired. Taking the name “Hanna” to distinguish herself from the person she shared the memories with, she worked closely with his children and retainers, establishing Pungdo in the process and following them to the new country when it was completed. 

From this, she soon bonded with the equally misunderstood Hakjoo, who suffered similar problems as she did, and when she found out he too was unknowingly from Destiny Liminal, she’d been the one to blurt out the news to him and suggest he pursue his own happiness to figure out who he truly was. Travelling alone through the surrounding areas of Pungdo to aid in expansion efforts, she’d discovered a tundra filled with enhanced mushrooms reacting to the power spots Taeoh had set up to power Pungdo (after electricity was cut off by the South Korean government to flush them out), and after bringing a single specimen to her best friend, she realised the mushroom reacted to him...  Powers: Hanna’s endurance is enhanced to superhuman levels, and her legs are exceedingly powerful: allowing her to execute devastating kicks and jump a significant distance. She is also able to run extremely fast by channelling electrical impulses to her legs to increase her speed, though this often burns her out faster than executing single long/high jumps or kicking others. She is also able to fly after taking a running start, propelling herself in the air with cycling motions or manifesting her wings to steer herself. What is unique in Hana’s endurance is that her strength grows the more damage she takes, as if the adrenaline overcompensates for her.  Immortal/Semi-Immortal?: Mortal(?)  Alignment: Chaotic Good  Other: -

[theliteraturenerd]

25 MOTIVATIONAL THOUGHTS FOR WRITERS by Chuck Wendig

1. YOU ARE THE GOD OF THIS PLACE

The blank page is your world. You choose what goes into it. Anything at all. Upend the frothy cup that is your heart and see what spills out. Murder plots. Train crashes. Pterodactyl love interests. Vampire threesomes. Housewife bondage. Demon spies! Cake heists! Suburban ennui! You can destroy people. You can build things. You can create love, foster hate, foment rage, invoke sorrow. Anything you want in any order you care to present it. This is your story. This is your jam.

2. INFINITE POWER, ZERO RESPONSIBILITY

Not only are you god of this place, but you have none of the responsibility divine beings are supposed to possess. You have literally no responsibility to anyone but yourself — you’re like a chimp with a handgun. Run amok! Shoot things! Who cares? There exists this non-canonical infancy gospel where Jesus is actually a little kid and he’s like, running around with crazy Jesus wizard powers. He’s killing them and resurrecting them and he’s turning water into Kool-Aid and loaves into Goldfish crackers — he’s just going apeshit with his Godborn sorcery. BE LIKE CRAZY JESUS BABY. Run around zapping shit with your God lightning! You owe nobody anything in this space. It’s adult swim. It’s booze cruise.

3. THE RAREST BIRD OF THEM ALL

The easiest way to separate yourself from the unformed blobby mass of “aspiring” writers is to a) actually write and b) actually finish. That’s how easy it is to clamber up the ladder to the second echelon. Write. And finish what you write. That’s how you break away from the pack and leave the rest of the sickly herd for the hungry wolves of shame and self-doubt. And for all I know, actual wolves.

4. YOU’RE NOT CLEANING UP SOME SIXTH GRADER’S VOMIT

You have worse ways to spend a day than to spend it writing. Here’s a short list: artificially inseminating tigers, getting shot at by an opposing army, getting eaten by a grue, mopping the floors of a strip club, digging ditches and then pooping in them, cleaning up the vomit of nervous elementary school children, being forced to dance by strange dance-obsessed captors, working in a Shanghai sweatshop making consumer electronics for greedy Americans, and being punched to death by a coked-up Jean-Claude Van Damme. Point is: writing is a pretty great way to spend a morning, afternoon, or night.

5. ABUSE THE FREEDOM TO SUCK

Writing is not about perfection — that’s editing you’re thinking of. Editing is about arrangement, elegance, cutting down instead of building up. Editing is Jenga. Writing is about putting all the pieces out there. It’s construction in the strangest, sloppiest form. It’s inelegant. And imperfect. And insane. It’s supposed to be this way. Writing is a first-time bike-ride. You’re meant to wobble and accidentally drive into some rose bushes. Allow yourself the freedom — nay, the pleasure — to suck. This is playtime. (Or, as I call it: “Whiskey and Hookers” time.) Playtime is supposed to be messy.

6. AND EMBRACE THE AUTHORITY TO BE FUCKING AWESOME

It’s your rodeo, hoss. You have the authority to write with confidence, to puff your chest out, to slap your ink-smeared genitals on the table as you utter your barbaric yawp. Aim big. Go bold. Don’t hide from your own most kick-ass desires. Don’t unfurl the story with hands trembling from the fear of what others will think. You have the power to do different. Yours is the authority to choose the road with your name on it. Write the story the tangle of desires and neuroses that comprise you so desire: A love affair between a man and a parking meter! A civil war between robots and other robots! A SPACE OPERA STARRING ROOT VEGETABLES. Fortune favors the bold. And being fucking awesome favors being fucking awesome.

7. YOU CAN CLEAN UP THE MESS LATER

Writers are afforded the glorious possibility of endless do-overs and take-backs. Every draft a new chance to go back and clean up messes and untangle the tangled wires that hide beneath the narrative. Can you imagine that privilege in real life? “Hey, when you go outside today, anything you do can be undone and the whole day can be recreated.” Holy crap, the day you’d have! Bath salts and dolphin sex, car crashes and muddy graves. I’d have an orgy at a candy factory. (So sticky!) I’d kill someone just because I could. I’D EAT DEEP-FRIED LIPO FAT AT A COUNTRY FAIR SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF AMERICA. If I didn’t like it, I’d go back and wipe the slate clean, start over again. That’s your story. Your story is a madcap day whose minutes and hours subject to your whims of rewriting — or unwriting.

8. A ROOM FULL OF STARVING STORY ADDICTS

For all the dire predictions about writing and publishing, I’m going to make a promise to you: the audience is waiting. They’re a subway car full of twitchy story tweakers going around and around, looking for any stop that will give them good story. They’re there for you. They’re waiting for your tale told. Writers often feel like they’re just sobbing into the void, but the audience will hear your plaintive cries, young storyteller. You may feel like a story flunky, but be sure that the audience is full of story junkies. Hey, snap, that rhymed and I didn’t even mean it to. FUCK YEAH WORDS.

9. I’M TALKING ABOUT MOTHERFUCKING ICE CREAM, SON

You are allowed to live a reward-driven life. You want me to motivate you? Go motivate yourself. (That is not code for “go fuck yourself,” unless I don’t like you, then it totally is.) Set a various goals and when you hit them, do something nice for yourself. I mean, the goal shouldn’t be, “Every time I write a sentence, I get an ice cream cone,” because that sir is a high-speed rail straight to the heart of Diabetesburg. But hit your mark of 2000 words a day? Write a chapter? Finish the book? Accept how kick-ass that is and reward yourself. It’s okay. You have my permission. (As long as you don’t bogart that ice cream. Dick.)

10. NOBODY ELSE WRITES LIKE YOU

When all your force fields and filters are down, when you’ve stripped yourself of your presuppositions and your fears and needs and your pants, you discover that nobody in the world writes like you. Nobody has your ideas. Nobody has your narrative memetic code. You are not a unique and beautiful snowflake, no. But your writing — your writing is your fingerprint. Your voice is yours and yours alone.

11. WE’RE TOTALLY BUILT FOR THIS

Someone will look down on you at some point (or, if you’re me, at frequent points throughout your day) for being what you want to be. Writer. Author. Artist. Storyteller. Here’s why that’s a dumpster full of shitballs: we are built for this. One of the things that lashes us all together with rope and chain and psychic plasm is our desire — nay, our sacred fucking need — to tell stories. We’ve been doing it since we drew Neanderthals chasing unicorns on cave walls. We tell stories about the weather, about work, about family and friends, about pets and sex and about that time that friend we have at work had sex with his pet python while a hurricane raged outside. This is what we do. You’re just codifying it. Making it real.

12. ONE WORD AFTER THE OTHER

The technical side of writing — by which I mean, the physical act itself — is one of the easiest things you can do. It’s literally one word placed after the other with some appropriate punctuation thrown in between breaths and ending thoughts. Yes, it gets more complex once you start thinking about narrative, character, meaning, text versus subtext — but for now, fuck all that. Just breathe. Let the tension go out of you (not so much you pee yourself). This is like LEGO. One block upon the other. One word after the next.

13. JUST WRITE 100 MORE WORDS

A frequent phrase said when I was a child or a teenager: just ten more minutes. Meaning, it was time to go to sleep (as a child) or time to get up for school (as a teenager) and all I wanted to do was avoid sleep (child) or sleep longer (teenager). As a writer, play the same game with yourself: you want to give up, close the notebook, save the story? Just 100 more words. That’s all. Push yourself just a little. A hundred words ain’t much (it’s about the size of this text block). And you’d be amazed at how 100 words just isn’t enough.

14. THIS IS HOW YOU GET BETTER

Writing is a muscle: the more you use it the stronger it gets. Writing is like a dog: the more you train it, the smarter it becomes. Writing is like one of your orifices: every time you allow a bigger object to be inserted within (pinky, buttplug, fist, cucumber, wiffle ball bat, railroad tie) you train it to gape wider the next time. …okay, maybe not so much the last one. Still: writing begets writing. You may not be great — or even good — now. But effort yields fruit. Fruit you may later jam up your ass for pleasure. Wait, what?

15. THE MORE YOU DO IT, THE EASIER IT GETS

It’s not just about getting better. It’s about it becoming easier. More natural. More intuitive. The act of writing cultivates both calluses (a metaphorical hardening the fuck up, Care Bear) and instinct (where your decisions as a word-captain and story-slinger are less the product of rigorous thought and more the result of you just having a gut feeling and going with it). Hard at first. Easier over time.

16. YOU ARE NOT THE OMEGA MAN

You are not alone. You are not Lonely Writer Person on Planet Nobody. We all get what you’re going through. We know your triumphs and terrors. The future of writing will be us uploading ourselves to The Cloud (probably on Amazon’s servers), our spirit animals glomming together to howl a single song, but for now, we’re all located at our individualized story pods, cranking out the words by ourselves. But that doesn’t mean we’re alone. We have community. We have shared understanding. Reiterate: You are not alone.

17. YOUR LOVE FOR WRITING IS ENDURING AND IMPERFECT

Some days will be great and other days will be hard. Some days you will love the thing that you’re doing so intimately and so completely that you feel like you achieved some kind of narrative orgasmic apotheosis, whereas other days you will feel nothing but septic hate gurgling in your empty belly and every word slung will feel like a brick flung into your own nose. Your love for this thing you do needn’t be there every day. Every day won’t feel like winning the championship. But the love endures, imperfect as it is.

18. IT’S OKAY THAT SOME DAYS ARE REALLY FUCKING HARD

Some days are difficult. The words feel like dead fish flopping out onto a dirty floor. Hell, maybe they don’t fall out at all but feel like they must be yanked one by one, the act both painful and slow, as if you’re extracting teeth. Some days are shitty. Is what it is. All writers go through it. You want to do this thing then don’t look at the shitty days as a problem: see them as a challenge that prove your pudding.

19. WRITER’S BLOCK IS NOT A REAL THING

You can be blocked. Everybody gets blocked. But it’s not special. It’s not unique to writers. It doesn’t deserve its name or the credit it receives. More importantly, it isn’t a physical thing — it isn’t a gorilla with a croquet mallet who smashes your hand every time you reach for the keyboard. You can get past it. You think past it. You write past it. You kick it in the teeth and step over its twitching body.

20. HOW TO IMAGINE THE HATERS

If there is one thing we have learned upon this old Internet of ours, it is: haters gonna hate. You will ever have disbelievers among your ranks, those who pop up like scowling gophers, boring holes through your well-being, your hopes, your dreams. It is very important not to prove the haters right. It is very important to know where to place the haters in rank of importance, which is to say, below telemarketers, below any television show on TLC, below crotch fungus and garbage fires and anal cankers. Imagine the haters herded into a pen. Eaten by the tigers of your own awesomeness. Then digested. Shat out. And burned with flamethrowers. The only power you should afford the haters is the power to eat curb.

21. MULTIPLE SHOTS AT GOAL

Just as you get multiple chances to fix a single story, you get multiple stories to fill your life — as many as you care to cram into your days, months, years. Our lives are a series of stories untold, and it’s up to you to tell them. This one might not be successful. But the next one might.

22. THE LEPRECHAUN’S GIFT

At the end of this rainbow are whatever rewards you want. Money? It’s there. Some say writers don’t earn out, that you can’t make a living doing this thing that we do. That’s a quiver of broken arrows: don’t sling it over your shoulder. I do it. I know a lot of writers who do it. So can you. But it’s not just money at the end: it’s self-fulfillment. It’s love. It’s confidence. It’s the things you’ve learned about yourself, about the craft of writing, about the art of storytelling. You never know what you’ll find until you climb that motherfucking rainbow. (One time I found a cardboard box of vintage porn and tasty grilled cheese sandwiches.) Writing is a journey. Each story just one leg of the trip. So start walking.

23. YOU ARE YOUR ONLY ENEMY

You have no enemy but yourself. You’re the only one that brings a story into existence, or, as it may turn out, fails to engineer that existence. Your enemy is not your spouse, your kids, your boss, your neighbor, your dog, your mother, your buddy. It is not time, work, addiction, distraction. It is not video games or Twitter, Facebook or television. Your enemy is fear. And indolence. And lack of discipline. And: uncertainty. And: lack of self-esteem. And all those things live inside your heart and your head. That’s hard to hear at first, but the trick is, that means you have the power to sweep all that shit off the table until it clatters and shatters against the floor. You’re the only one standing in your own way so, knock down your own worst inclinations and get to it. Disclaimer: actually, unicorns are frequently the writer’s enemy and if you got a unicorn problem best thing I can recommend is to call a priest. You can’t kill those things with weedkiller. And they deflect bullets with their horns. That’s no lie. Unicorns are pesky assholes.

24. THIS MATTERS

Story matters. Writing is important. Stories make the world go around. Many things begin as words on a page. It matters to the world. And it matters to you. Don’t let anyone rob you of that. Don’t rob yourself of it, either. Don’t diminish. Don’t dismiss. Embrace. Create. Accelerate.

25. UM, WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?

Uh, hello? You should’ve bailed on me ten list items ago. What the fidgety fuck are you still doing here? Whatever it is you want to write — novel, script, short story, blog post, haiku out of fridge magnets — go forth and do it. Don’t wait for me. Don’t wait for all the answers. Don’t wait for permission, motivation, inspiration. It’s time to saddle up and gallop forth — through the white dust and the red sand, through the darkness of your own fears or inadequacies and into the light of a tale told to completion. Quit lookin’ at me. Quit looking for reasons. Quit dicking around. Close this browser and go tell a story, willya?

by Chuck Wendig

[fic-dreamin]

3.0 out of 5 stars Been there, read that.

3.0 out of 5 stars Good, but the ending is rushed This book had the potential to be great, but once again falls to the trappings of R.A.'s latest books of slowly building the plot and then rushing the ending. A lot of questionable things happened with the main character and others at the end, but as a reader I feel like I'm being hushed and moved along at breakneck pace to the ending. That's not to say it's not a good book. It's great for 3/4 of the way, and a real page turner that is often hard to put down. Looking forward to the next book. Go to Amazon

4.0 out of 5 stars A Good Read, But... Before I say anything else, Salvatore is amazing and all of his books have been great, this one included. No spoilers here, just read it for yourselves because Drizzt.With that being said, I can't help but feel a sesne of trepidation every time the "Companions are together, Companions split up, repeat" scenario of late. As much as I want to read Drizzt books forever, I also want his saga to come to a well-deserved ending without going down the same road as some heroes who have just been played out. Not that I'm wishing Salvatore out of a job--rather, I'd love to see him take on some other characters like he has in the past (Entreri, Cadderly, and the like). As much as I want Paul S. Kemp to continue the Erevis Cale novels, The Godborn brought it full circle and I was happy with a possible ending.However, I will be along for the ride as long as Drizzt is swinging those scimitars. Go to Amazon

5.0 out of 5 stars The latest Drizzt novel "Archmage" has one of the greatest HOLY CRAP endings ever! Just when you think Salvatore can't possibly come up with anything that will truly shock-and-awe you after 30 or so previous Drizzt novels, here comes this latest book "Archmage," which weaves a tale so epic that by the end my head exploded!While the Companions of the Hall press forward in their quest to retake Gauntlgrym from the drow, and Matron Mother Quenthel Baenre solidifies her iron-grip upon the ruling families of Menzoberranzan, Gromph Baenre and Kimmuriel Oblodra unknowingly become involved in a scheme that may turn out to be the Spider Queen's ultimate demonstration of chaos!I am incredibly eager to read the next book because of how great this one was! Go to Amazon

4.0 out of 5 stars Good Read but Salvatore Cheats No spoilers here but I will say the following: good read, much improved over some previous half-hearted attempts that Bob allowed to be published under his name. Good overall story development and foundation setting for multiple new story lines. Bob cut corners, however, and completely failed to develop some obvious / exciting characters and plot transition points which weakened the book. I have read ALL of the Drizzit tales since first published years ago and continue to be frustrated by RAS blind spots on obvious / exciting character development for no apparent reason. All that said, I look fwd to the next book and am cautiously optimistic for Gromph!!! Go to Amazon

4.0 out of 5 stars A good continuation The saga of Drizzt and his companions of the hall has become an unending story, it seems. Each new trilogy is simply a continuation, picking up exactly where the last book leaves off. Salvatore should just drop the whole "trilogy" scheme and call his books, "The Saga of Drizzt," or something like that.Nevertheless, for a long time fan of Drizzt and the cast of characters that surround him, I thoroughly enjoyed this book, and will start right in on the next installment. Go to Amazon

3.0 out of 5 stars Sold read. This wasn't the easiest book to get into but it turned out to be very good. I love the direction Bob is going with the Companions of the Hall. I'm looking forward to the next chapter in this saga. These last couple of books have made me a dwarf lover again. Many questions about past characters still remain while some overdrawn character motives have come to close in this one. Still i grow very bored with the drow of Menzoberranzan, if like Drizzt back on the Sea Sprite again with Cattie-bree. Also want more Wulfgar and Regis and less drow.s Go to Amazon