#Obliteration Ritual

[queenofthemasquerade]

Nuclearhammer - Impalement (of the Wretched)

[civilization-illstayrighthere]

i understand the intent of fic being like “kerry eurodyne? 89 year old globally famous rockerboy?! He doesn’t have a mr. Studd” like i get it the implication that he’s down to earth and not like lizzy wizzy and humanity vs machine blah blah blah but can you imagine the length of his fucking ball sack. how am i supposed to mentally reconcile this. he doesn’t get a mr. Studd but he does have to go in for monthly cyber-botox for his balls? they’re absolutely smooth no wrinkles.

[aceofwonders]

still Haunted by cian's "I don't think you are a bad person, emyr" the session before Disaster 🙃

[greeds]

fun fact the current meta is to have halsin or shart or whoever has the spell sunlight active to just stand there before you get too close to begin talking to cazador and he takes sunlight damage per noncombat turn and then just initiate the fight once he’s super weakened

PLEASEDJDKNFLDNFLKLFKDL phew that must be incredibly helpful for honour mode players

[kolboette]

something something the aesthetic use of body horror in bg3 and it’s central theme revolving around bodily autonomy and the complete and utter lack of it

[beeapocalypse]

oh tma is nipping at my heels. i miss the extinction

[theinimitablefuckstormkilligan]

Every year my daughter and I find a chocolate bunny and obliterate it fantastically, picking up and eating the pieces in the aftermath.

This year the ritual was completed thusly.

Filmed by @just-a-capybara :)

[blxkstar]

ʙᴇɴᴇ ɢᴇꜱꜱᴇʀɪᴛ

The Bene Gesserit Order. The sisterhood. I have created a playlist for the women who shroud themselves in mystery to achieve their own ends. Please check it out!

An ancient and adept organisation that used ritual mysticism and symbolism. Women spies, nuns, scientists, and theologians who used genetic experimentation, galactic political interference, and religious engineering.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

I am the servant of all my Sisters. They watch their servant with critical eyes. I cannot spend too much time on generalities nor on trivia.

Our household god is this thing we carry forward generation after generation: our message for humankind if it matures. The closest thing we have to a household goddess is a failed Reverend Mother

For women... These things are so ancient within us…that they’re ground into each separate cell of our bodies…It’s as easy to be overwhelmed by giving as by taking.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #11

Danny Fenton did not plan to be adopted by the Scarlet Witch. It wasn’t even on his list of top ten weirdest things that could happen in his afterlife. Then again, after falling through an interdimensional ghost rift and crash-landing into a cult ritual mid-WandaVision finale, Danny realized the universe hated him and this was its love language.

He’d barely had time to wipe the ectoplasm off his face before Wanda Maximoff locked eyes with him, levitated, and declared, “You poor haunted creature. You’re mine now.”

Danny blinked. “I—I what?”

She hugged him. Mid-air. While glowing. “Don’t worry, dragul meu. I’ll protect you.”

Danny, held like a traumatized kitten, tried to process the rapidly shifting situation. Somewhere, a witch disintegrated. A fake town crumbled. A grief-born reality collapsed. And Danny Fenton—half-dead teenager from Amity Park—accidentally became Wanda Maximoff’s emotional support poltergeist.

He didn’t even try to resist. It was honestly kind of nice.

Because unlike his real parents—who were actively trying to vivisect him for science—Wanda made him soup. Sokovian soup, no less. Which kind of tasted like regret and paprika. But it was warm. And for once, someone looked at him like he wasn’t a freak but something precious. Like a haunted doll or a cursed Fabergé egg.

She called him pet names in Sokovian. Îngeraș when he tried to sneak out at 2 a.m. to fight a ghost. Puiule when he accidentally exploded a toaster. Scumpul meu when he sobbed uncontrollably after seeing a “Family is Forever” sign at Target. It was the most love he’d ever gotten outside Jazz buying him discounted Halloween candy.

Speaking of Jazz.

Danny mentioned her once. Casually. Offhandedly. In the way someone might mention, oh, by the way, I have an older sister who looks like you but taller and with clinically concerning rage issues.

Wanda’s eyes lit up like she’d just been told kittens could talk. “You have a sister?”

“Yeah,” Danny said, eating a pierogi shaped like a ghost. “Her name’s Jasmine, but we call her Jazz. She’s super smart, real protective, and tried to fight my teacher once.”

Wanda stood. “We must get her.”

“Wait—what?”

“We’re getting your sister. My daughter.”

Danny didn’t know whether to be touched or terrified. But forty minutes and three death threats to the GIW later, Jazz Fenton was dragged through a portal and deposited into a reality-warped Sokovian living room, blinking and armed with a baseball bat.

Jazz, understandably, had questions.

Wanda just wrapped her in a shawl and gave her a plate of dumplings. “Welcome home, copilul meu.”

“Am I being kidnapped?” Jazz asked, eyes wild.

“Adopted,” Danny corrected. “It’s honestly an upgrade.”

Jazz accepted this surprisingly fast. It helped that Wanda let her redecorate the entire library, gave her free reign over a magic grimoire collection, and, perhaps most importantly, stabbed one of their shared enemies in the chest with a glowing dagger while humming a lullaby.

“I like her,” Jazz said, sipping tea made from herbs that maybe glowed.

Things escalated from there.

The next addition to the Maximoff Household of Misfit Ghostlings was Danielle—Dani for short—Danny’s chaotic, sticky-fingered clone who had been couch-surfing across dimensions since she ran away from Vlad Masters, Danny’s psychotic billionaire godfather and man-shaped midlife crisis.

Wanda met Dani after the girl tried to rob her of a magical artifact.

Instead of obliterating her, Wanda gave her a forehead kiss and said, “You steal like my brother when we were your age. Absolutely perfect.”

Dani burst into tears.

“I’m not a mistake?”

“You are a miracle.”

Danny watched this exchange with a bowl of popcorn. “This is insane.”

“You’re just mad she didn’t say you were a miracle,” Jazz muttered.

“I exploded her car once.”

“You turned it into sentient spaghetti.”

“It was a Tuesday!”

And then came Dan.

Alternate future version of Danny. Older. Meaner. With trauma so dense it had its own gravitational pull. He arrived via ghost vortex, mid-breakdown, screaming something about the end of all things.

Wanda calmly offered him a cup of rosehip tea and called him suflet pierdut. Lost soul.

Dan, raised on fire and suffering, had never been spoken to like that before. He agreed to stay for dinner and accidentally started crying into a bowl of goulash.

Now, technically, the timeline said Wanda should have vaporized him. Dan had, after all, committed multiversal crimes and tried to erase existence. But instead, she put a red scarf around his neck and declared, “You’re clearly just misunderstood.”

“He killed his entire universe,” Danny pointed out.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Wanda replied, feeding Dan a pastry like a wounded war veteran.

Dan became her second favorite.

“This isn’t fair!” Danny protested.

“You were less traumatized than him. He needs me more care.” Wanda said.

Danny sulked for three days.

It was around this point that Wanda decided paperwork was for cowards and declared all four of them legally Maximoffs. No documentation. No court. Just raw magical energy, ancient Sokovian rites, and an extremely intense group hug.

“From now on, you are my children. We are going to fix everything.” Wanda said.

By everything, she meant their deadbeat parents. Jack and Maddie Fenton tried to sue for custody. Wanda turned their lawyer into a tree.

“I will kill them,” she muttered, eyes glowing red.

Jazz had to talk her down using a whiteboard, a magic inhibitor, and a pie chart labeled “Fenton Emotional Neglect: 200%.”

Then came Vlad Masters.

He tried to get Dani back by showing up in a giant mech suit made of ghost goo and Apple Watches. Wanda incinerated him with a look and then cursed his bloodline to sneeze every time someone said the word “plasma.”

“He’ll never know peace again,” she said sweetly, spooning paprika stew into Dani’s mouth.

The GIW, naturally, got involved. Tried to declare Danny a weapon of mass destruction. Wanda made their building and people disappear. Not explode. Not collapse. Just—gone. Like they never existed.

Danny laughed so hard he passed out.

The Avengers had questions.

Strange came to investigate. He left with a black eye and a sense of foreboding. Wong stayed for dinner and gave Jazz his number.

Sam Wilson tried to talk to Danny about “superhero responsibility.” Danny dragged him into a ghost fight and said, “Cool. Let’s see you responsibility your way out of that.”

Eventually, the Maximoff household functioned like a chaotic sitcom.

Wanda would be floating upside down while teaching Dani hex theory. Jazz would be dissecting the latest government conspiracy in a conspiracy-board-filled sunroom. Dan would be brooding in a velvet cloak like a rejected Dracula. Danny would be stuck in a ceiling fan.

“Family dinner!” Wanda called one night.

“We’re in the middle of a ghost invasion!” Danny shouted, firing a thermos at a skeletal goblin.

“You can’t save the world on an empty stomach!”

They ate around a magically reinforced table, surrounded by summoned protective wards, and discussed whether or not to curse Danny’s English teacher with mild diarrhea.

It was perfect.

It was dysfunctional.

It was home.

Wanda made them all matching red sweaters with little “M”s on them. Dan refused to wear his until she got that look in her eyes, and then he wore it for three weeks straight.

Sometimes, Wanda would look at them with a strange, soft expression. Like they were her salvation.

“You saved me,” she told Danny once, brushing his white hair back.

“I fell on your lawn during a reality collapse.”

“Exactly. My savior.”

Danny smiled. Because honestly? Maybe she was right.

She gave them love. Stability. Curses. A home with infinite rooms and zero vivisections.

And in return?

They gave her family. A real one. Weird. Dead. Half-dead. Emotionally unhinged. But hers.

Wanda Maximoff had lost everything.

And then the universe, in its cosmic chaos, dropped four glowing, traumatized, half-ghost disasters into her arms.

She cradled them like stars.

And this time, she didn’t lose them.

Because if anyone tried to take her children?

She would burn the multiverse to the ground.

[sommerbueckers]

❝Jealousy, Jealousy❞

ANGST ANGST ANGST.

___________________________________________________________

PAIGE STOOD WORDLESSLY amongst her teammates as they drowned themselves in conversations with fans. There was obnoxious chatter happening in every direction and yet the blonde could only focus on one conversation, her girlfriend's. She covetously watched the encounter between her girlfriend and a player from the opposing team, a tall lanky guard with a sharp jaw and dark curls.

Eight minutes, they had been talking for eight unbearably incessant minutes, and not once had either of them looked away from each other. Paige would know, because the entire time she had been glaring staring over at them. Even during the times where she was taking pictures with her fans, signing shoes and jerseys and one impressively knitted scarf, she couldn't fight the uncontrollable itch to glance their way.

As far as the blonde knew, her girlfriend didn't have any friends on the team they had faced, and when she saw the way the dark haired girl caressed her girlfriend's arm, she figured she was right. With flared nostrils and a firmly clamped jaw, Paige exited the gym.

She found herself alone in the locker room, carelessly shoving her things into her bag. She clenched and unclenched her fist, wanting needing so badly to hit something. She debated obliterating the very locker she sat at, her breathing involuntarily rigid as the image of her girlfriend's twinkling eyes staring at that other player with the most adulating gaze she had ever seen popped into her mind.

Just this morning they had been cuddled up in bed, lazily pecking each other's lips and whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears. Now, Paige questioned how many other girls had touched her girlfriend without hindrance, how many of them had inveigled her into things with nothing more than a compliment and an empty promise. The blonde thought back to all the 'new friends' that her girlfriend had gone out with, how many drunken nights she had had.

There was a chance that this wasn't the first time her girlfriend was friendly with another girl, this was just the first time Paige had seen it with her own eyes.

The locker room became flooded with the rest of her teammates, their laughter abhorrent to Paige's ears. She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the locker, pretending to be focused on her phone. In reality, she was carefully watching her girlfriend in her peripheral.

The girl moved through the locker room care-free, a beaming smile plastered onto her face. She had yet to approach Paige, congratulate her for playing well and lovingly kiss her forehead. It was their post-game ritual, and she hadn't done it. Paige, without so much as a glance in her team's direction, left the locker room. Unbeknownst to her, her girlfriend's eyes had been following her the entire time.

⋆。˚ ☁︎ ˚。⋆。

The elevator ride up to the hotel room was eerily silent; the kind of silence that forced the fear of breaking it to bubble inside you, the kind that triggered that nauseating ringing in your ears. Paige was leaned against the back wall, her eyes refusing to leave her phone screen for even just a moment to meet my pleading gaze.

She hadn't uttered a single word to me since before the start of tonight's game. In the beginning I had mistaken it for the inevitable act of her exhaustion consuming her, but I had soon come to realize that only I was being given the cold shoulder. We hadn't even done our post-game ritual, I had been so engrossed in the conversation I was having that I hadn't gone to find her. When I did, she was nowhere to be found.

I figured that I'd run into her once we got to the locker room, but something seemingly important had been occupying her mind and I wanted to leave her to her thoughts. On the bus, she sat beside KK and they talked the whole way back to the hotel. Assuming she had sorted out whatever it was she had been giving so much thought, I attempted to talk with her, only to be callously brushed off.

Now, as she stood as far away from me in the elevator that she physically could, I concluded that I was being ignored.

A ping rang in our ears and Paige took off down the hallway not even a second after the doors had parted. I disheartenedly trailed after her, my excitement from the win quickly diminishing the longer Paige and I went without speaking. It was common for her to shut down like this, to become moody and irritable, but she never went as far as to shut me out so blatantly.

"Paige?" I called out to her, hesitation evident in my tone.

She didn't answer, only pushing the door open to the wall to allow me to enter before it closed. She negligently discarded her bag in the corner of the room, immediately moving to plug her phone up on the charger. I watched her scroll for a minute, her face weirdly expressionless and her jaw screwed shut.

I then pulled out my own phone, opening up the search engine to locate the nearest food spots that stayed open this late. "I'm gonna order Chinese, what do you want?" I asked. Again, I was met with ominous silence. Paige aggressively dropped her phone down onto the nightstand, leaving to the bathroom and switching on the light. Frustrated with the way she was treating me, I slammed my phone down onto the table and stormed after her. "Okay, enough of the silent treatment Paige, what's your problem?"

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, and just when I thought she'd ignore me once more, her head snapped in my direction. Looking intently into her eyes, I saw nothing but pure rage looking back at me.

"My problem?!" she yelled, pointing toward herself.

"Yes, your problem, Paige!" I snapped back, "You haven't said a single thing to me since the game ended and when I try to talk to you, you don't even answer me!"

"You ever think to yourself that maybe I just don't wanna talk Y/N? Maybe i'm tired, or in a bad mood, or maybe i'm just sick of hearing your fucking voice nagging in my ear all the time!"

Disbelief shined brightly in my eyes at her words. She had never, in the four years of us knowing each other, said anything as harsh and cruel as that. I slowly nodded my head, literally and figuratively taking a step back from her.

"Well, I guess it's the latter 'cause you had no problem talking it up with KK on the way here," I seethed, turning on my heel and walking back over to my phone.

I heard Paige scoff from the bathroom before she too exited, cheeks flushed and eyebrows knitted together.

"Oh stop acting like you care, we win our first away game of the season and you don't even look in my direction. Not a cheesy smile or a forehead kiss, too busy talking to whoever the fuck that other girl is!" she shouted.

I frowned, and only spoke after taking a while to gather my thoughts. "Is that what this is about? I didn't do your stupid fucking post-game ritual and now you're all butt-hurt because of it?!"

"Stupid?! Okay," she nodded, "remember that." Paige swiftly headed back into the bathroom, turning on the shower and closing the door.

That's it?

She was just done with the argument? Did she really think I was just planning to let her leave like that -- leave me standing there without the last word? Not a chance. So, I did what any sane girlfriend would do, I followed after her.

"We're not done, Paige!" I yelled, opening the door. She stood there, clad in only her boxers and a sports bra, looking down at me with an unimpressed expression. "You don't get to just walk away whenever you feel like it! We're in the middle of a conversation and whether you like it or not, we're going to stand here and talk like two adults."

Paige let out a heavy sigh, her head falling back as she looked up at the ceiling. Then, she turned to me and walked closer, leaning against the doorframe.

"You can talk all you want, I'm done listening." With that, the door was slammed in my face.

___________________________________________________________

Rush Hour played lowly on the television, and Paige and I sat on separate beds as we ate our dinner. Both of us had showered and packed our bags to leave in the morning, there was nothing left to do, nothing left but makeup with my girlfriend.

The anxiety of going to sleep with so many things being left unsaid was eating away at me, and I could feel the tears as they stung my eyes. I pushed my food aside, fiddling with my fingers as I turned to face her. My elbows rested on my knees, a copy of Paige's position as she continued to ignore me for the movie.

"I'm sorry for calling our ritual stupid," I paused, "I didn't mean it." This caught her attention, I could tell by the way her ears ever so slightly perked up at the sound of my voice. Still, she refused to answer or look at me. Although the sigh I released was laced with defeat, I persisted in my efforts to get her to talk. "You know I hate going to bed angry with each other. Will you please just talk to me?"

I was begging at this point, practically on my knees ready to tell her whatever she needed to hear. I watched her cautiously as she set down her fork and swiped a napkin across her lips. Slowly but surely, her body turned toward mine. A sign that I was making progress.

"Who is she?" Her voice came out in a strained whisper, nothing like the tone she had taken with me just an hour before.

Confused by the question, I answered it with another, "Who is who?"

She blew out a hard breath and shut her eyes for a split second. "The guard from earlier. You were talking to her after the game," she finally looked at me, "who is she?"

As I quietly put the pieces together in my head, realization became apparent on my face. My eyebrows rose dramatically, my lips parted in shock as I finally came to understand exactly what Paige was asking, or more importantly...why.

"Wait, a-are you jealous?" I questioned, "Is that what this has been about? This entire time I thought you were actually upset and you were just jealous?"

Paige narrowed her eyes at me, "Just answer the question Y/N."

"She is a cousin on my mom's side. We were talking because we didn't think we'd get to ever play each other, but since she missed a season due to injury, she got to stay another year. This is the first time her team is in the same conference as ours," I explained.

Paige felt completely and utterly stupid, I could tell by the way her ears turned red and her eyes darted around the room. I took my lip in between my teeth, patiently awaiting her reply. When she eventually did work up the courage to speak, she did it with her hands over her face.

"Well, now I feel like an ass," she mumbled.

"You should."

She frowned at me.

"The way you treated me tonight really hurt my feelings," I told her, "and you did it all because you were too blinded by your assumptions to ask me a simple question."

Her face softened at my words, guilt written all over it. I couldn't help but wonder how many things she had said to herself about me that she now wished to take back, the things that she was thankful I hadn't heard her say under her breath or behind my back, the things she prayed to God about -- asking so desperately for forgiveness.

Her face told me she had done it all. As I stared blankly at her lips, thinking about the tongue that lay hidden behind them, the thought of kissing away the argument felt wrong. It felt like the feeling of her tongue on mine would burn me, the unrelenting pain of her distasteful words cooking my mouth to a crisp. Her ill-mannered comments seeping into me from the heated contact.

"Y/N, i'm sorry," she spoke sincerely, "i'm sorry for making assumptions, for ignoring you, for blowing up when all you were tryna do was talk to me. I hate the way I acted tonight, but I can't take it back. So i'm begging you to forgive me."

It was my turn to be silent. Of course I would forgive her, she was my Paige and at the end of the day I wanted her to be the one I ran home to. But in order to do that, we had to have trust.

"Before I forgive you, there's something very important that you need to understand," she nodded for me to continue, "our relationship is built off of trust. If we don't have that, we don't have anything. Don't you ever again in your life blow up on me like that over something you don't fully understand, whether you know it or not."

"I got it," she said.

"Good."

"So...Does that mean i'm forgiven?" a shy smile crept onto her face as she asked this.

"Depends," I said, "are you gonna let me have your egg roll or not?"

Paige smirked, "Only if you come over here and get it."

"Are you trying to seduce me into forgiving you?" I scoffed.

"I don't know...Is it working?"

I slowly stood up from my place on the bed, walking over to stand in front of her. I leaned closer to her and whispered, "Not even a little," before grabbing the egg roll from her plate and leaving her shocked.

___________________________________________________________

Not sure if this ending is even good cus there was no makeup sex😔

BUTTT i wrote this cus i was bored and couldn't sleep (its literally 4:07 am pls save me) but i hope yall enjoy this

[etherium-fr]

Hewn purifiers are the juggernauts of Requiem's defensive arsenal against the Shade. Subjected in the shell to a process called Shade tempering, during which their eggs are ritually abandoned in the Hewn City to harden, their armored scales are impervious to the Shade’s corrupting influence. They can be seen scouring Shade-infested ruins with their Light-infused breath, leaving broad swaths of steaming, consecrated earth in their wake.

They are flightless due to the enormous weight of their tempered hides, which often form fine cracks, revealing veins of pure Light beneath. Only about one egg in twenty survives the tempering process, and only those belonging to guardian dragons, which hatch with the single-minded charge to obliterate any trace of Shade corruption in their path.

[ventique18]

- Farmer Malleus what if where he leaves everything behind with you -

Silver and Sebek begging farmer Malleus to come back to the country and lead them.

🐊: "My king! The world is in danger! You have the might of a million soldiers. There's no one else like you. We need you-- nay, everyone needs you!"

🐉: "I am a father now. I am old. My bones are brittle. I'd wager you could topple me in one strike."

It's only been five years since their graduation. He tears off logs for their fireplace with his bare hands.

⚔️: "The kingdom is struggling! With you gone, our prestige has lost its value and our economy has completely fallen because of the remaining nobility's greed. You are irreplaceable, both as an important symbol and as a strategist for internal affairs--"

🐉: "Economics? I can't even do basic arithmetic anymore. My son is even better than me-- you should have seen how quickly he learned to count to a hundred."

He remembers how many eggs each of their chickens have laid over the course of their poultry lives. He knows exactly how many fishes swim in the river nearby.

🐉: "I only know love now, not war. I'm afraid I am no longer as influential as you remember me."

Bears are terrified of him and come by their house not to pillage for food, but to offer food out of fear that he'd obliterate them if they didn't make a ritual sacrifice to pacify him.

Oh dear, this is going to be a loooong day for Silver and Sebek.

[ifishouldvanish]

The idea of Olrox being from Cholula specifically makes me so insane. Like would he have identified more as Mexica? Or as Tlaxcaltec? Would he have been loyal to the Tlaxcaltec and allied with the Spanish only to get screwed over like his Mohican lover did in the colonies? Would he have done so thinking he could get the upper hand in the end just like Mizrak/Emmanuel thought the Order could with Erzsebet?

"He thinks the devils he manufactures will be enough to destroy her when the time comes. What do you think? Do you think he's right?" - S1E4

Even after the fall of Tenochtitlan, nobility from all over the region would have been sent to Cholula to get the blessing of Cholulan priests for their legitimacy. How might this have fueled his disdain for nobility?

Olrox: "I prefer my blood blue."

Drolta: "Maybe you do things differently in the new world, but over here we don't feed off the wealthy. The locals will start to grumble." - S1E5

As a Mexica citizen, this disdain could come from resentment toward sumptuary laws, the increasing lack of socioeconomic mobility during Moctezuma's rule, and frustration with how he handled the Spanish... But as a Cholulan sympathetic to Tlaxcala, there's so much more???

It could come from frustration with leadership that defected from the very people who helped them elude Mexica rule in the years before the Spanish conquest. Anger at a decision that economically obliterated the Tlaxcaltec, who became completely surrounded by Mexica member-states? Regret at how much it cost them to 'overthrow' the Mexica? Grief at how this kind of political/military opportunism helped lead the wider indigenous population to its demise?? Like the latter is so much more thematically ripe for a show tackling colonialism and imperialism imo???

"This one? He was just an opportunist, following the Messiah because she's powerful." - S1E4

I mean!!?? Think about how the implications of all of this... *gestures wildly* stuff would lead him to adopt such a cynical, morally ambiguous worldview? This sense that it's all doomed, that he's not strong enough to fight it? Resist and fall to your enemies, or work with them only to lose parts of your identity in the process? Think about how the brutality of the Cholula massacre recontextualizes eurocentric perceptions of the brutality of flower wars and ritual sacrifice??? How it would leave you with anger and pain and an unyielding need for justice?

"Little boy Belmont. I know that feeling. That pain, that hate, that burning, unendurable need for retribution." - S1E1

Think about how the Mexica Empire had adopted Huitzilopochtli (war, sacrifice) as their primary patron deity, and the Tlaxcaltec Mixcoatl/Camaxtli (the hunt, fire)... Yet Olrox's form seems to be based on Quetzalcoatl (wind, knowledge, rebirth, among other things)–the deity the great temple at Cholula was dedicated to.

A handful of mesoamerican deities are associated with serpents/have names ending in '-coatl', but Olrox's serpent form clearly has a feathered crest—the 'quetzal-' in Quetzalcoatl.

But Olrox's abilities also seem to include lightning/thunder, which are associated with Tlaloc, who the Cholulans seemed to have adopted as their central deity some time before the Spanish conquest.

Quetzalcoatl is only associated with storms sort of tangentially, through his aspect as the wind god, Ehecatl. The Florentine Codex refers to Quetzalcoatl-Ehecatl as sweeping the roads to make way for the rain and the thunder.

Think about how in Tlaxcaltec accounts, Cholula–being a sacred city–had no real military to speak of and depended on their gods to protect them???

Mizrak: "There's only one God. Just one. That's the only thing I'm sure of. And I've spent my whole life serving him, fighting for him. That hasn't changed, and it never will." Olrox: "One god... And you think he can protect you?" - S1E4

Like... What does it all mean???? 🫠🫠🫠

Agshsjdkdkfll *screams into a pillow* I am so excited for season 2 but whatever happens Cholulan Olrox is canon in my heart y'all

[outofrealms]

Isekai’d as the Demon King’s Therapist

Synopsis: One minute, I’m fighting a vending machine for coffee. The next, I’m the therapist for Zarvath, the Demon King who’s one bad day away from obliterating the realm. His mental health’s a mess, and I’ve got nothing but my psych degree and questionable life choices to fix it. No pressure, right?

Chapter 1: I Was Just Getting Coffee, and Now I’m a Therapist for a Demon King?!

It all started with a vending machine.

Not some magical, glowing vending machine that dispensed ancient relics or cursed snacks. Nope. This was the regular, broken vending machine in the breakroom at work, the one that seemed to have a personal vendetta against me.

I just wanted a cup of coffee. One measly coffee to help me survive another session with a client who swore Mercury in retrograde was the reason her life was falling apart. I was dangerously low on caffeine, and without it, I was one minor inconvenience away from shouting at inanimate objects like she did.

But the vending machine had other plans.

It ate my dollar. Then, just for fun, it ate my life.

I gave it a light smack. Nothing violent. I’m not a monster. Just a small “I’m watching you” kind of tap.

That’s when the vending machine decided to electrocute me.

There was a bright flash of light, a weird sound like a thousand cats sneezing at once, and then….nothing.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a throne room.

I lay flat on a cold, black floor, staring up at a ceiling covered in glowing runes and what I really, really hoped were fake skulls. Around me were creatures straight out of a heavy metal album cover, demons with horns, glowing eyes, and questionable fashion choices.

In front of me sat a seven-foot-tall demon with glowing red eyes and a crown made of actual fire. He was lounging on a massive black throne, sipping something from a skull-shaped goblet like this was just another Tuesday.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one?”

The one what?!

I sat up slowly, still trying to process the fact that I was very much not in my office anymore. My first thought? Hallucination. Second thought? Maybe I’m dead, and this is some weird afterlife punishment for all the times I lied about liking kale.

“Answer me, mortal!” the demon barked. “Are you the legendary mind healer we summoned?”

Legendary mind healer? Was he talking about a therapist? Did I just get isekai’d to be a demon king’s therapist?!

“Uh… yeah. Sure. That’s me,” I said, adopting the time-honored strategy of when in doubt, agree.

The demon who I later learned was Zarvath, the Demon King of Darkness leaned forward, his eyes glowing brighter. “Excellent. My armies may be unstoppable, but my mental health is… fragile.”

Oh. My. God.

One of the demons, a nervous little imp cleared his throat. “Lord Zarvath, we were supposed to summon the most powerful mind healer in all the realms. Are you sure we got the right one?”

Zarvath frowned. “Do you doubt my summoning rituals?”

The imp shook his head so fast I thought it might fly off. “N-no, of course not! But… they don’t look very powerful.”

Rude. I may not look like much, but I’ve survived family holiday dinners, passive-aggressive coworker emails, and clients who believe crystals can cure broken bones. I’m tougher than I look.

“I may not have magic,” I said, crossing my arms, “but I’ve got a master’s degree in psychology and plenty of experience dealing with difficult people. You want therapy? I’m your person.”

Zarvath tilted his head. “Master’s degree? In… psychology?”

“Yeah. It’s a degree that qualifies me to help people process their emotions, manage stress, and develop healthier coping mechanisms.”

Zarvath narrowed his eyes. “So… it’s a form of magic?”

“Not exactly. It’s more like… mental training. But instead of using spells, I help you talk through your feelings and reframe your negative thoughts.”

Zarvath crossed his arms. “Sounds like sorcery to me.”

The imp leaned closer to Zarvath, whispering loudly enough for me to hear, “Master, perhaps it’s some kind of mind enchantment?”

“It’s not enchantment! It’s cognitive behavioral therapy!” I said. “There’s science behind it!”

Zarvath nodded slowly, stroking his chin. “Hmph. Whatever it is, if it can stop me from obliterating the next hero I meet just because they irritate me, I’m willing to try.”

He leaned back on his throne, considering me carefully. “Very well. Prove your worth.”

And that’s how I found myself sitting on a demon-sized couch, preparing to give my first therapy session to the Demon King of Darkness.

I wasn’t sure how I got here, or how I was supposed to survive in this world… but one thing was clear: this Demon King needed serious help. And if I played my cards right, I might just live long enough to give it to him.

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

What kind of relationship does Minerva have with Sophie? They seem close if she was willing to presumably risk her life by going against the king.

What a good question. Why would a maid, let alone a maid as high ranking as to serve the princess directly, risk everything including her life, to break the princess free? How close are these two?

Let me explain some things.

Well first I want to say that ‘Sophie’ Redwine is the character played by my friend @ouroborosorder. Before anyone made any characters she said she wanted to play a maid, I quickly decided I wanted to play a princess, and we both agreed to make our characters together. This was probably the most fun I ever had making characters and I cannot recommend highly enough doing collaborative character creation to make your characters have a connected backstory.

Sophistry ‘Sophie’ Redwine was a high ranking maid in the royal castle in the capital city of the Adret empire. She worked her way up from a lowly maid position all the way to becoming the personal maid of the princess, because she was really good at her job. Where she became a maid, her sister Aquila ‘Quill’ Redwine, became a knight. Quill quickly worked her way up to becoming a member of the most elite, secretive, and powerful knights of the kingdom; the Brocken Specters. As one of these elite knights, she was made to do many horrible, violent, and cruel deeds in service of the crown. After doing that for a few years, Quill realized she did not like it, and she wanted out. But this was a secretive order of knights, they wouldn’t just let her leave.

Her leader threatened that if she left or fled, they would kill her sister. They then began assigning her on more and more dangerous suicide missions. Each time she came back alive, with more rage burning inside her, and with her body more and more pushed to its limits and injured. Eventually she was assigned what was to be her final mission, a suicide mission no one would come back from alive, no matter how skilled. Quill went to see her sister one last time, and when she did she broke down and told her about the whole thing. Sophie proceeded to trick her (iirc she put something in her drink to knock her out), disguised herself as her sister, and went to die in Quill’s place. It was too late for Quill to stop her, and the only option she had left was to take her sister’s place and become a maid. She even had to attend a funeral for herself, in which everyone told her how great Quill was, and how her sacrifice for the empire would be remembered.

‘Sophie’ then lived her conflicted life, torn between wanting to live her life for her sister’s making her sacrifice worth something (and also hoping her sister might somehow live vicariously through her being the best ‘Sophie’ she could be) and between thinking her life was not worth living so that she must live for the sake of others. Regardless, she lived as ‘Sophie’ for a few years, then she witnessed as Minerva and her disagreement with her father escalated until Minerva became effectively imprisoned as punishment for defying her father. After serving Lady Minerva in her unofficial prison, for a while, whether out of pity, empathy, hope that Minerva might help her get revenge on the empire, a combination of the three, and/or some other reason entirely, she began to discuss with Minerva a plan to free her.

It took well over a year to research everything, gather materials, smuggle materials into Minerva’s living quarters, contact the black market underground magic Dollmaker, and prepare the ritual. But eventually ‘Sophie’, with her dark magic that she learned as a Brocken Specter, was able to perform the extremely risky ritual on Minerva that risked obliterating her soul, and successfully implanted it in full-sized porcelain doll (ordered to look exactly how Minerva wanted bc she’s a picky princess), which she then smuggled out of the kingdom.

Doing something like that together made them accomplices. (real Otherside Picnic fans know, being accomplices is the closest kind of relationship in the world)

Since then the two began traveling together, living freely but having a vague goal of a revenge quest. Eventually they met up with the other party members, and with shared short-term goals, they began traveling together to make up our ttrpg party!

But what kind of relationship do they have? I’ve been calling it a “yuri situationship.” They have a lot of yuri moments together, but they are not at all dating. Minerva does get jealous and possessive whenever Sophie looks at another woman though. They have a pretty close relationship as a noble lady and her devoted maid. Sophie attends to her needs and wants, even going so far as to use downtime busying herself unnecessarily with chores that ostensibly serve Minerva, even though Minerva would much rather she relax and/or spend the time with her instead. Many nights Minerva asks Sophie to sleep and cuddle with her, and Sophie typically obliges. Minerva would claim it’s because as a doll she doesn’t generate body heat but still finds being cold uncomfortable, which is true but she’s also just touch starved and insecure about having a cold, hard, rigid body that she thinks no know could ever actually want to cuddle with. She thinks Sophie only does it because she’s her maid and she’s essentially being forced to, but I don’t think Sophie sees it that way at all. They’re an amusing and odd couple and frankly I can’t wait to see how their relationship develops.

⚠️🔞Very NSFW text below🔞⚠️:

(And here’s the secret lore: Stemming from one incident during Minerva’s recovery progress, in which the binding of her soul to the doll body progressed to the point of making the sensation of her doll pussy made her kind of insatiable, a time in which Sophie caught her in the act. Instead of reprimanding her, Sophie offered to help her out. And that just sorta kept happening, now the two of them casually cuddle together sometimes, and on occasion Sophie fucks her brains out.)

[Extra secret lore: Minerva realized soon after becoming a doll that the idea of herself being a literal object, and being treated like nothing more than that, especially in contrast to her normal spoiled pampered life, was suddenly extremely hot to her. Also as a doll she doesn’t need to breathe, she cannot bleed or bruise, and she is even immune to dark magic bc of her being undead. Meanwhile Sophie has an ever burning hatred of the empire and now has one of its royals as her personal princess fucktoy that she can take her frustrations out on. It’s kind of a perfect match, i mean it’s probably not super healthy, but they both enjoy it . And then when they’re done the next day they go back to pretending there is nothing between them. They are not really very emotionally healthy people and refuse to talk to each other about what their relationship actually is.]

I’m very normal about these women 👍

[laswells-ashtray]

obsessed with every single one of your alerudy headcannons bc they’re all correct and i’m here to politely ask for more :3

also yes i am very normal about rudy’s moles and so is alejandro.

I have tried to answer this four times but every time I get into it, someone messages me lmao.

Because you asked real nice and because I've been thinking about them every day for months, I'll do it.

Also, at least once every morning Alejandro will press a kiss to each of Rudy's moles under the guise of it being a good luck ritual. Rudy thinks it's just an excuse to be clingy.

Alejandro and Rudy get drunk and end up playing a game of truth or dare, they're obliterated and Rudy cannot remember a thing the next day. That is until he finds a pair of black lace panties on his bed and is reminded of a certain dare he agreed to seven beers deep the day before.

He knows what Alejandro expects of him, he's supposed to blush and act all embarrassed, maybe accept a little teasing and move on. He doesn't.

He marches his ass into Alejandro's office, slams the door behind him, and locks it before kicking his cargos off and parking ass arse on the colonel's lap. Then he wraps his arms around Alejandro's neck and grinds against his cock until the panties are smeared with cum, then he gets dressed and leaves. Never says a word the entire time.

Alejandro sits speechless for twenty minutes, the horniest he's even been in his entire life.

That's how they find out that both of them are into Rudy wearing women's underwear.

If Alejandro gets ice cream then Rudy's gonna wait until he isn't looking and bite it because it makes Ale cringe when he notices and he finds it funny. His teeth aren't sensitive so it doesn't bother him but it bothers everyone else who sees it.