#ancient humans are fucking neat

[savage-rhi]

I'm in love with the ancient Greek Nintendo DS setup

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Where Did You Learn?

(Davrin, Bellara, and Neve & Vincent Thorne)

Vincent Thorne knows that there's no better way to spend a day than by painting. It just so happens that the ceiling of the Lighthouse is the best canvas to help illustrate the events of a city elf's life.

[theannoyingurge]

On the topic of Durge / Ketheric / Durgetash and how it potentially echoes the lore of the Dead Three...

Back in the mortal adventuring days of the Dark Three, it was originally just two power hungry humans with a common enemy who'd gained respect for one another's capacity for ruthless violence and paired up - not so different from Durge and Gortash.

The duo was comprised of Bane of the Ancients (a former battle slave to a primordial evil from Abeir) and Arabhal (a chief assassin and spymaster from ancient Netheril).

Long before Myrkul joined the party, Bane and Bhaal adventured together seeking power for themselves, plotting to slay Bane's former master and take divinity from Jergal (Bhaal's patron deity). Sort of like how Durge and Gortash were allies before Ketheric joined the cabal. I can see Durgetash plotting to ascend together.

See where I'm going with this?

Anyway, Jergal thought they were neat. He encouraged their antics by blessing them with terrible nightmares and leading them to powerful weapons - most notably, leading them to Myrkul (a crowned price and powerful necromancer). It was Myrkul who finally managed to gain the three access to Jergal's domain, and Jergal really wanted to retire.

I suspect Bane and Bhaal remembered how critical Myrkul had been to their initial ascension, and that was why Ketheric Thorm was eventually looped into their new alliance.

Despite Bhaal and Bane's long history together, something funny happened following their ascension. Suddenly Myrkul and Bhaal have way more in common. Their portfolios make them natural allies. In the Avatars novels, Myrkul actually grieves the death of Bhaal, noting that one could hardly exist without the other, and states that 'amongst all the gods, they were perhaps the closest'.

Which means... Bane isn't Bhaal's favorite anymore. In fact, Bhaal can seriously fuck him up. While Myrkul truly appreciates the lord of death and murder for feeding his kingdom, Bane has as much to fear from Bhaal as to gain from him. (technically Bhaal claims he could starve Myrkul's kingdom, but since he really enjoys killing and hates the living world, Myrkul's kingdom is probably like a vacation home he'd prefer not to burn down.)

What we see after a thousand years or so of this is Bane antagonizing Bhaal every chance he gets, and profiting off every one of his failures. Bhaal picks a fight with the Moonshaes and gets exiled from Toril? Bane sees free real estate and conquers the wreckage. Assassins fail to kill the mortal Midnight (Mystra) and retrieve the tablet of fate during the ToT? Sacrifice them all in a massive death ritual to fuel Bane's new avatar! Bhaal is dead and his remaining loyalists team up with Bane's kid to bully Cyric, who usurped them both? Return in a pillar of fire and annex them into the church of Bane! Sucks to suck, your worshippers are mine now. Again.

I can see a BG3 prologue where Gortash and Durge are super best friends right up until Ketheric Thorm joins the party. I won't get into all the reasons why Ketheric's and Durge's personal issues make them ripe for toxic bonding, but suffice to say that Gortash soon gets jealous of the undead immortal stealing his Bhaalspawn's attention and (whether unwittingly or out of spite) leads Durge down the path to ruin (shooting himself in the foot in the process).

Meanwhile, Bhaal (who has been raging at Bane for stealing his stuff for the last century or two) is now raging at Bane and Myrkul for fighting over that stuff until it physically and mentally snaps and becomes a hero.

Now it's ruined and I have to settle for Orin. Fuck you both.

[tamaruaart]

Keep in mind this isn't me hating on Kirke, I love that fucked up goddess she's such a fun character. But goddamn I hate her fans.

It's all just people trying to push feminism where it wasn't 🙃 Yes, it's true ancient Greece was kinda shitty towards women. But goddamn that was 3000 years ago. We can enjoy these stories but it's important to not push modern perspectives and view points on these stories while also not condoning these actions. Not to mention we may very well experience this kind of thing with future generations that will come after us so it's important to simply stay humble. Civilizations and humans are constantly evolving and viewpoints are constantly changing so it's not exactly fair to history nor ourselves to take these ancient ideologies to heart. Grow up.

Anyways Circe/Kirke is not your hot little witch cutie 🥰 She's a goddess and the daughter of the Sun Titan. She's done terrible things and that's what makes her iconic. Istg if she wasn't so infamous no one would even know about her. She's morally gray and that's what makes her so neat >:D Now, is it unforgivable to paint jer in a good light? No, but I think if you remove ALL of her questionable morality she losses her charms. She isn't the same Kirke anymore. (Looking at you MM, your writing is good but holy shit.)

It's not unforgivable, but it's simply incorrect. If anyone wants to learn more about Kirke's original/actual character, I don't really recommend most modern interpretations- (MM's novel, Hades 2, DC, Odyssey Movies, my bbg Epic the Musical etc...) I'd say just read the Odyssey, reasurch some older mythos and read the Argonautica.

Can you still like these interpretations of Kirke? Yes. Of course. I love Epic's Kirke even though she is pretty inaccurate. You just have to acknowledge they aren't the real thing! :D That happeneds with most characters ngl, no adaptation nor interpretation is going to be 100% accurate to the original, but with Kirke it's always so... Apparent? So visible. They never make her at LEAST 50% accurate. Which 🤬

She was not a victim, she wasn't incredibly horny, she wasn't a girlboss, she wasn't love sick for Odysseus (it's hinted she only found him to be an 'interesting mortal' of sorts) she wasn't 100% cartoon villain of the week either. She's MORALLY GRAY 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

She holds Odysseus' men hostage, she turns Scylla into a monster out of jealousy, she turns a man into a woodpecker because he didn't want to sleep with her. But she ALSO helps out Medea and Jason (even though it's because Medea was her neice but STILL) and she gives Odysseus instructions on how to head home.

She does BAD things that shouldn't be forgiven and aren't at all justified, but she also does GOOD things that should be acknowledged. She's a goddess. She's a character. She's morally gray. WHAT THE FUCK IS NOT CLICKING???? 😀

I just don't like modern interpretations of Kirke and I'm a meanie so I made this ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

That's why I stick to my 3000 year old books instead of these puny ones that were written in my century 💪💪💪

Do not apply feministic messages or themes on Kirke. Nor any Greek mythology figure for that matter. This was 3000 years ago 😀 if you want to focus on feminism FOCUS ON WOMEN WHO ACTUALLY HAD TO STRUGGLE ABOUT THESE THINGS AND THAT EXISTED IN THE 19-21 CENTURY 😀😀😀😀 WHEN PEOPLE KNEW OR WELL WERE SUPPOSED TO KNOW FUCKING BETTER. OR JUST FOCUS ON MODERN FEMALE STRUGGLES THAT ARE RELATABLE??

Also, if I haven't already made it clear. LIKING A CHARACTER ≠ CONDONING THEIR ACTIONS. I'm just talking about all the people who either call her a girlboss, hate on other figures for being morally questionable but turn a blind eye when it comes to Kirke, and people who make fun of Odysseus and call him a man whore for sleeping with Circe and Calypso. (Despite the fact he's a literal victim)

And for the last time:

👏 THIS 👏 IS 👏 NOT👏 A 👏KIRKE 👏 THE GODDESS 👏 HATE 👏 POST. 👏 THIS 👏 IS 👏 ME 👏 SLANDERING 👏 SOME 👏 OF 👏 HER👏 FANS 👏 AND👏 MOST 👏MODERN 👏INTERPETATIONS👏 OF 👏THAT 👏TWISTED 👏MORALLY 👏GRAY👏 BITCH.

Also I made a typo in the meme. God damn it dyslexia. (It's should be 'transforming' not 'transformed')

[angelickks]

────˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚the max interceptions: how to ruin a girl’s love life in three (overprotective, armed) steps

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): John Winchester. Overprotective family™️. probs one or two sexual innuendos if u squint. light swearing. a dismal love life. canon-typical violence. mentions of alcohol (honestly what’s new?). max dating an archivist. overall shits n giggles once again i had a shitload of fun writing this. don’t mind me pushing out sm content i rlly love max

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Now Max isn’t one to fully doubt her boys, in some moments, yes. But when it really mattered, it was highly unlikely. Now she knew the men in her life were wildly overprotective, albeit armed as well, but she expected the same “I stay out of your sin-filled shenanigans, you stay out of mine.” and god was she proved wrong

supernatural mlist!

MAX'S OFFICIAL UNOFFICIAL 21ST BIRTHDAY

Midnight. Bar outside of Lawrence, Kansas. Some poor bastard who the gull to hit on Max ran out the door, all thanks to the calvary showing up right behind her in the form of three stubborn, foul mouthed Winchester men.

John chuckled gruffly

“One day, kid,” he said, “some poor bastard’s gonna think he can survive you. And when that day comes... I’ll buy him a drink. Just before I give him a fifteen-minute head start.”

Dean snorted.“Better make it ten.”

Sam just shook his head. “That’s generous.”

“Oh you guys got jokes tonight, huh? Ha ha” Max laughed dryly.

Now Max isn’t one to fully doubt her boys, in some moments, yes. But when it really mattered, it was highly unlikely. Now she knew the men in her life were wildly overprotective, albeit armed as well, but she expected the same “I stay out of your sin-filled shenanigans, you stay out of mine.” and god was she proved wrong

If anyone knows anything about Max, is that she hates being wrong…

Here are the rare times she truly was

────────

THE WALK OF SHAME

4:37 a.m., back hallway of a dingy Kansas motel. Dim lights. Creaky floorboards. The stuff of nightmares—and awkward family encounters.

Max thought she was in the clear.

Boots in one hand, jacket in the other, hair a mess, and her black tank top inside out. She padded barefoot down the hall like a cat burglar who happened to smell like whiskey and sin. The door clicked behind her—the guy was passed out cold. Thank God.

"Smooth," she whispered to herself. She just had to make it ten more feet to her room. Ten. More. Feet.

Then the door at the end of the hall creaked open.

Dean.

Coffee in hand. Shirtless. Disheveled. Confused. Squinting like a dad catching his daughter sneaking back in after curfew.

“...Really?”

Max froze like a raccoon in the trash. “Fuck off. Go back to bed.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing at the boots in her hand. “You doing a charity shoeless walk or is that just part of your kink now?”

“Oh bite me.”

He just sipped his coffee. “Gotta say, you’re not very stealthy for someone who can’t be sensed by supernatural forces.”

She growled low in her throat, ready to hurl a boot at his face when—

Sam emerged. Fully dressed, hair neat, holding a book.

“Dean, why are you—” He saw Max. Blinked. “...Oh.”

“Oh?” Max echoed, voice cracking with incredulity.

Sam looked like a disappointed professor who just walked in on a bad science experiment.

“Do I even want to know?”

“No,” Max deadpanned. “You want to pretend this didn’t happen and go read about ancient sigils like a good nerd.”

Dean snorted. “She’s got a point.”

Max took one step forward—and a third door opened.

John.

Holding a half-loaded shotgun and a flask. Because of course he was.

“Someone better be dead,” he said groggily, eyes landing on his daughter mid-walk-of-shame. Pause. Narrowed stare.

“…You serious?”

“Oh my God,” Max hissed, looking skyward. “I’m gonna kill all of you.”

John looked her up and down, then past her toward the door she’d come out of. “Was he at least human?”

Max threw up her hands. “I’m not that reckless.”

Sam coughed into his hand. “You once made out with a warlock."

“That was for intel!”

Dean grinned like it was Christmas. “Was it, though?”

John muttered, “Oh jesus fuckin’ christ Max."

Max turned on her heel and stomped to her door, muttering curses under her breath. As she opened it, she glanced over her shoulder.

“Don’t. Say. Anything.”

Dean was already lifting his coffee in salute. “Mornin’, sunshine.”

John added, “Tell lover boy to get out before checkout. Or I’m charging him for breakfast.”

Sam just said, “Want me to ward the hallway? Next time you sneak out you’ll trip an alarm.”

She slammed the door shut so hard the hallway light flickered.

Ten seconds of silence.

Then Dean looked at John. “Think she likes him?”

John shrugged. “He’s still breathing, so… maybe.”

Sam just sighed.

────────

THE GAS STATION INCIDENT: DEAN EDITION

Dean’s just trying to grab snacks and gas up the Impala when he sees a compact car pull away from behind the next pump. The driver? Some pretty-boy in a Henley.

His eyes narrow.

A familiar denim jacket lies crumpled in the backseat. Max’s.

Dean nearly drops the jerky.

He casually strolls over, pretending to check his tires. Sees the guy fiddling with the aux cord, grinning like he just made out with the devil.

Dean knocks on the window.

“Morning, sunshine. You got something that doesn’t belong to you.”

The guy stammers, “Uh—I think—uh, Max said it was cool—”

Dean just smiles. Real slow.

"Listen. You can hook up with a girl like Max. Or you can live a long, uneventful life. You don't get both, dumbass."

The guy drops the jacket. Speeds off. Leaves his receipt still hanging from the pump.

Dean returns to the car with Max’s jacket, throws it at her.

“Next time, at least make ‘em buy premium.”

────────

THE COFFEE CUP CLUE (SAM EDITION)

Sam finds it during a food run. Motel trash can. Two cups.

One’s Max’s usual. Black, extra cinnamon.

The other? Hazelnut swirl with almond milk.

Suspicious.

He casually brings it up at breakfast. “So… your coffee tastes changed?”

Max doesn’t look up from her eggs. “Nope.”

“Because unless you suddenly went vegan, you had company.”

Max slowly lifts her mug. “Might’ve been a one-night drifter. With good taste. And a tongue piercing.”

Sam chokes on his toast.

“Jesus, Max—”

“What?” She shrugs. “I’m a grown woman.”

Later, he tells Dean, who nods like a grizzled war vet. “We need to start screening her dates like we do haunted houses. EMF and all.”

────────

THE LOCKER NOTE (JOHN EDITION)

Max thinks she’s slick.

She tells them she’s off for “library research.”

What she actually means is: steamy rendezvous behind a bar with a mechanic named Eli, who smells like oil and regret.

But she forgets to remove the evidence—his note, stuffed in her gear locker. Scrawled in grease pencil: “You kiss like trouble. Call me.”

John’s the one who finds it while checking ammo.

He reads it twice.

By dinner, he’s leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, saying, “So… this Eli kid. That a new contact for demon lore or just another guy who’s gonna end up hexed because he couldn’t keep it in his pants?”

Max throws a biscuit at his head.

“Is this really necessary?” she mutters.

John just smirks. “Sweetheart, I raised you. I know that ‘gonna ruin someone’s life’ look.”

────────

THE ONE THAT ALMOST GOT AWAY: A WINCHESTER ROMANCE (SURVIVAL TIME: 3.5 DAYS)

His name is Jonah. He’s an archivist. Like, literally. Wears tweed, glasses, and smells like old books and oak polish. Max meets him while breaking into a restricted collection at the University of Chicago. He's in there cataloging cursed manuscripts. She’s in there stealing one.

They both reach for the same tome: Diabolus Collectanea, 12th-century binding, potential death curse inside.

He freezes. “You’re not faculty.”

She grins. “Nope. I’m much worse.”

Jonah lasts a whole three days before the family catches wind.

Day One: Max doesn’t say anything. She comes back to the motel with a tiny smile and a book she didn’t steal. Sam notices immediately.

Day Two: She hums while cleaning her knives. Dean knows something’s up.

Day Three: John finds a tweed jacket that doesn't belong to either of the boys. Dean almost chokes on his beer.

By the evening, Max slips out for a “walk.” She ends up curled against Jonah under a library skylight, listening to vinyl records on his portable player. He kisses her like he means it.

Max actually thinks about texting the guys to say she’ll be late.

Mistake.

Jonah’s Doom Comes in the Form of a Diner.

She brings him to breakfast, thinking a public space will dull their edge. Mistake #2.

John is already there, sipping coffee like judgment incarnate. Dean is spinning his knife into the table like a loaded threat. Sam is being polite—too polite. Dangerously polite.

Jonah holds his own. Offers to pay. Compliments Max’s hexwork. Knows the difference between a curse and a binding sigil. Even impresses Sam by correctly identifying an ancient Norse glyph.

Then he calls her “Mad Maxie.”

They all freeze.

Max’s smile drops.

Jonah notices a second too late.

“You… call her that often?” Dean asks, slow drawl.

“I—I thought it was cute—she told me—”

Sam covers his face.

Dean leans forward. “Listen, Jon. We let a lot slide. But there are two things we don’t play with: souls and nicknames.”

That night, Max tells Jonah it won’t work.

Not because she doesn’t like him. But because he’s not made for a world where the men in her life come with demon knives, bullet scars, and trauma encoded stares.

He nods, kisses her hand.

“You’re not just mad, Max. You’re myth.”

She almost tells him to run. Instead, she watches him walk away.

────────

bonus scene!

THE EX-FILES: MAX AND THE CASE OF THE VERY POLITE ARCHIVIST

Bobby’s Salvage Yard. Rain-soaked Texas evening.

Max slams the Impala door harder than necessary. Mud up her boots, duffel hanging low off her shoulder. She walks through the door with a permanent scowl, coffee in hand, and the rage of a woman who just ghosted a guy who owned more scarves than knives. She’s in a hoodie three sizes too big��Jonah’s hoodie. And she knows it.

Too late.

She doesn’t get two feet inside before it starts.

Dean (sprawled across the recliner, munching on jerky): “Oh no. Is that his hoodie?”

Max (dropping her bag without looking at him): “Don’t.”

Sam (barely suppressing a grin): “Wow. Didn’t know Earth-tone Enthusiast left you with a parting gift.”

John (arms crossed, leaning by the door): “Didn’t think you were the ‘date-a-scholar’ type. He knew what end of a shotgun was the barrel, right?”

Max (pulling off the hoodie, instantly regretting everything): “Okay. First of all, he was sweet. And gentle. And he used conditioner.”

John: “You dated a man with a 9-step skincare routine. You’re a hunter, not a house plant.”

Dean (leaning forward, grinning): “You know what this is, right? This is your ‘Sam dated a werewolf’ phase.”

Sam: “Hey!”

Dean: “She dated a gluten-free ghost whisperer. We all make mistakes.”

Max (grabbing a beer, aiming it at Dean’s face): “Shut it, asshat.”

John (raising an eyebrow):

“He wore slippers. To the front porch. In the rain.”

Dean:

“Slippers, Max.”

Max (glaring):

“They were house shoes. And he made me tea. Real tea. With lemon and honey and… kindness.”

All three men simultaneously groan.

John: “Man looked like a sentient co-op.”

Max (collapsing into the couch): “He was just... nice. For once. That’s all.”

Dean (softly, mock-serious): “And that’s why it didn’t work.”

They all sit in silence for a moment.

Then Bobby walks in, holding a dreamcatcher and Jonah’s forgotten satchel.

Bobby: “Someone get rid of this shit before I burn the place down.”

Later that night: They toss Jonah’s hoodie, dream catcher, and satchel in the fire pit. Dean toasts a beer to its slow demise.

Dean: “To Max’s taste in men: may it one day recover.”

Sam: “To Jonah: may he find peace in an artisanal tea shop.”

John (grinning): “To the next poor bastard who tries to date my daughter.”

Max: “You guys suck.”

John: “Buck up, sweetheart”

Post-Credit Scene: They find a box labeled “Jonah’s Favorite Crystals.” Dean salts it. Sam sets it on fire. John shoots it, just in case.

[wordsofwhimsy]

Reign of Ruin

Pairing: None! Just Sinister!Mark Grayson doing his thing in his own universe

Warnings: Violence

Genres: Angst

Word Count: 505

Synopsis: Just a moment in the life of the variant

Inspiration: “Big Iron” by Marty Robbins – FUCK yeah, this song had no business going this hard but it does & I’m so grateful for it

a/n: i started with sinister just 'cause we know the most about him so it was the best way for me to ease myself into exploring their backgrounds. i think i mentioned this on another post but i am NOT a comic reader (tho heavily considering it) so all i can do is speculate on all the variants respective universes. idk i think it’s really neat to explore!! i don't expect this to get much love but for the few of you who do read it i hope you enjoy c:

In a world where Mark Grayson wore the mantle of invincibility without the weight of morality, the city trembled beneath his feet. The air was thick with the hum of hovering drones—small, sleek machines that patrolled the skies above, their lenses constantly scanning the streets below. These silent enforcers were Mark’s eyes and ears, ensuring no one dared challenge his rule. The city was his, and the drones made sure it stayed that way. They watched for signs of trouble, ready to report back to him at the first hint of resistance.

His cape fluttered behind him like a dark omen, and his eyes glowed with a cruelty that only power could create. It was a Tuesday, and the news buzzed with reports of a vigilante, a so-called "hero" who had taken it upon himself to challenge Mark's reign. They called him "The Defender," but Mark knew better. He was a relic, trying to hold onto ideals that no longer had a place in the world. And Mark... Mark had already rewritten the rules.

He’d heard the rumors: The Defender had a big plan. He had a weapon—an ancient tech, something capable of breaking through Mark's unbreakable skin. The kind of weapon that could do what no human ever could: harm him. But it didn't matter. Mark's pride was an ocean, and that weapon was a single drop.

The Defender stood in the middle of the city square when Mark descended from the sky, his boots hitting the ground with a thunderous crash. The wind whipped around them, but neither flinched. The Defender gripped his weapon, a gleaming, matte-black rifle, its barrel humming with dangerous energy. It had been designed for someone like Mark: ruthless, fast, unstoppable.

“You’re out of your league,” Mark sneered, his voice a low growl.

The Defender aimed the weapon, his hands steady, his breath measured. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said, his words carrying the weight of someone who had nothing left to lose.

Mark smirked. “You should be.”

In a blur of motion, the Defender fired. The beam of energy tore through the air, crackling with power as it struck Mark’s chest. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Mark laughed, his laughter cutting through the tension like a knife.

"You thought that would work?" He stepped forward, the glow of his eyes brighter than ever. "I’ve seen it all."

And then, with a single, brutal swipe, he tore through the Defender's defense, shattering the rifle into dust. The man fell to his knees, powerless.

Mark looked down at him, cold and uncaring. "You're nothing but a legend in the making," he said, before lifting the Defender by his throat, watching as the man gasped for air. "And I’m the one who’s going to end it."

The city’s lights flickered, but all that remained was the sound of Mark’s slow, deliberate steps as he walked away from the wreckage.

He had no need for heroes. Only conquerors. And in his world, he was the last one standing.

[toxycodone]

genital headcannons for :

Falin

Laios

Chilchuck

Toshiro

Namari

Venery

Thistle

Falin definitely has a penis, I think hers is probably the biggest out of Laios' party? Namari definitely packs, I would let her peg me for hours omg..... she could ruin me. Ermmm.. Chilchuck probably has a big cock for a halfling, he's fucking TALL !!!! bro has to be packing something. Also shaved or not shaved... Namari body hair everywhere OMG I need her to shove my face into her bush I need to smell her. Sorry I'm being a little too straight (? I am a man but this feels gay idk) ... anyway chil, Namari, and Falin are unshaved, full bush down there. I feel like Toshiro at his best keeps everything trimmed !! but when he can't even shave his face when he's at his lowest... bro wouldn't have the energy to take care of it. Hmm and then Laios could be either way..?? We know he shaves his face and keeps his hair short bc he doesn't wanna look like his dad, but would he even think of shaving his pubes????? Idk. Wait is this a weird thing to think about? Oh wait do elves grow body hair??? I feel like thistle would have some body hair if it's possible, I feel like they can't... unless my DND 5e knowledge is getting mixed with uhmmm. What is it called... DUNGEON MESHI I think I'm starting to dissociate I'm going to stop typing lmfao

FALIN - GIRLCOCK. Whether you are a trans!Falin fan or what, in my eyes after the red dragon thing. She gets girl cock. I can see this as either like, a penis or like T-dick. Whatever you decide. But whatever it is her situation is definitely unique. Also she got a bush frfr

Laios - COCK. (I am also a trans!Laios fan so like. He can have anything in his pants it don’t matter imma eat it but usually when I write him it’s cock). His dick is as painfully average as he is. Not crazy length wise but he got some girth to it. I’m thinking like. 5 inches frfr. Maybe 6 but that’s generous imo. No manscaping just vibes he’s full bush down there. And body hair on his chest/legs/arms and around his groin

Chilchuck - OKAY. His dick is probably like more similar to an average tallman penis. Which is remarkable considering he’s like half their size. I’m gonna give him four inches and he’s breaking other halflings in half with it but with other races. He’s learned how to use it. Chilchuck is a real one. Light on body hair, but would keep it tidy when he’s not in the dungeon (I think he likes to manscape and like. Appreciate himself in the mirror lol)

Toshiro - He is ALL length and so embarrassed about it. (Def afraid he’s gonna hurt you.) He could learn to love it with a supportive partner though. I think for a while he’s rocking bush because like, yknow. That stuff isn’t really talked about…but he figured it out for himself that when he takes his time and shaves and stuff after a anything or whatever he’ll do some trimming down there because he likes the neatness. I like to think he grows body hair but it’s not super dark for some reason (besides on his face people get jealous at the beard he can grow)

Namari - SHE IS JUST LIKE ME I GET HER VIBE SO WHAT IM SAYING HERE IS CANON: SHE HAS CRAZY PUSS BUT IS ALWAYS ROCKING THE STRAP. Namari doesn’t let anyone fuck her hole unless they’re in a committed relationship (she does not play about that either if you insert anything in her sex is over). Insane with the strap too. She’s someone I can genuinely see breaking the bed with her strokes. Also she’s got body hair for days. Like other Dwarf women she can grow a beard too but she usually shaves. (Namari with stubble…I’m bout to go feral.)

Venery - Started off with a human vagina. Now it’s some weird mix between that + hyena + dragon cock. I think he’s canonically intersex due to the ancient magic. But he’s happy about it. Also UHHHHHH…..HE LAYS EGGS. JS.

Thistle - Okay Thistle is so trans to me I think he gives himself top surgery when he’s getting older with ancient magic. He leaves the downstairs area alone because he’s fine with just presenting masc that’s good enough for him. Very low body hair he just sits in the middle of gender ambiguous for REAL.

[redwebber]

I fucking love Natlan

I've seen many people complain about how they expected Natlan to be bloodier (even seen some mentions of human sacrifices which seem kinda reductive and disrespectful?) because they are the nation of war, but ngl, as a mexican, I actually really liked how they interpreted and referenced some cultural an mythological stuff!

Some examples:

SPOILERS FOR THE NATLAN QUESTS

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•Natlan. I mean, this is an obvious one, but I'm still gonna talk about it lmao. I love the name! Natlan is probably originated from the word Aztlan (Or Aztlán/Aztatlan), the homeplace of Aztecs. The 'Na' I'm assuming is either a referrence to the word 'Nahuatl', the language of the Aztecs, the word 'Nativo', or Native, or the word Nacimiento (Birth). Honestly I lean more towards the last one mostly because, with '-tlan' meaning 'close to' or 'beside' (as with the names of places like Mazatlán, Tenochtitlán, Cuautitlán, among others that still remain to this day), it would come to mean something like 'Close to birth'. And I find that neat as a nation that was at war for so long only to finally find some peace.

•The Archon of War and the sun motifs. The Aztecs venerated Tonatiuh, The Old Sun, and thus were known as the People of the Sun (El Pueblo del Sol para mis amistades mexas). I think this isn't precisely the god being used as a referrence for the current archon, but rather part of the inspiration for Xblanque (who i will talk more about later). Instead, the main god of the Mexicas was Mexi, or as we more commonly know him, Huitzilopochtli, who is the god of War and the young sun.

•Tribe names. While everyone probably remembers the tribes by their nicknames 'Scions of the Canopy', 'Children of the Echoes', 'Collective of Plenty', they actually have names that we can see in the reputation quest screen! That is Nanatzcáyan, Huitztlán, Meztli, Tlalocan, Teteocán, and Mictlan. These names mostly come from the Mexica 13 skies, part of their cosmology which represents the world above where the gods reside. Though while I love the reference, I don't quite see why they chose most of the names here (Except for the one on the next point), since the name meanings don't have anything to do with what the place is about, but oh well...

•The Masters of the Night Wind. I lied a bit on the last point. The Masters of the Night Wind are called Mictlan, which isn't a part of the 13 skies. Rather, it's the Aztec equivalent of the underworld, so it made so much sense for them to be the most connected to the Night-Soul Kingdom!

•The Pilgrimage of the Return of the Sacred Flame. On that note, the whole 'sending our best warriors to fight in the world of the dead and being able to be rebirthed from flame' thing is also kinda related! In Mexica mythology, warriors that died in combat or in sacrifice were said to go somewhere other than Mictlan. This was Tonatiuhichan (which would be the equivalent of Vallhalla and Elysium if anyone wants a referrence), or the House of the Sun, a place where warriors wouldn't have to feel sadness, pain, or displeasure. In myths, the souls of the warriors accompanied the sun from the moment it rose until its midpoint (hey, kinda like Mavuika and her theme of memory).

Fun fact: Women who died during childbirth were considered to be on the same level as said warriors, as childbirth was considered a form of combat. As such, they are the ones who accompanied the sun from its midpoint until the sun set, singing and fighting as a form of entertainment.

•Tenoch. Ah, yes, the one to select the ancient heroes from the 6 tribes in the game. Tenoch is the namesake of Tenochtitlan, Mexico City's ancient name. Tenoch was said to be the last cuāuhtlahtoh, who were the leaders of the Mexica as they travelled from Aztlan to the Mexican Valley. He was also the first one to do the first Fuego Nuevo Ceremony and- heeeey, doesn't that sound familiar?

•The Sacred Flame. I admit, this one is actually one I only learned recently when I was investigating Tenoch because I actually didn't know much about him. The Fuego Nuevo, or New Fire reminded me of the sacred flame! Essentially, the ceremony represented the start of a new cycle, a sort of rebirth, which is another one of Natlan's core themes. In this ceremony, among many other things, they burned statues of the gods in sacrifice, and common people burned their old belongings and any physical representation of their gods, cleaning their houses thoroughly. The priests would go on a pilgrimage to the top of the Huixachtecatl, where they would light a hearth. This fire would then be shared onto the main temples! Thus, the New Fire means rebirth, just like how the Sacred Flame brings back the heroes.

•Och-kan and Ochkanatlan. This one is more speculation, but I wonder if the 'Och' is a reference to Tenoch too. As said before, Tenoch is the namesake of Tenochtitlan, which was named that by Tenoch's successor Acamapichtli. Thus, clould it be that Ochkanatlan stands for Tenochtitlan as an ancient form of Natlan standing for Mexican-adyancent? And Och-kan was, I believe (but correct me if im wrong because I do not remember lmao), the last king of Ochkanatlan, just like Tenoch was the last cuāuhtlahtoh? Wow, too much theorizing, my brain hurts.

•Och-kan part 2: Electric Bugaloo. Wait a damn minute. Cocouik is a little bird-like thing that represents the mind and turns into a full on dragon (named Och-kan, whatever, name isn't as relevant in this second theory of mind). In mexica mythology, Quetzalcoatl is the feathered serpent (Often represented as your typical feathered amphitere dragon, which is symbolized by the quetzal). Quetzalcoatl is the god creator of men and god of light (among other stuff) who famously fought against Tezcatlipoca, the god of darkness, magic and war, kind of how Cocouik and Bona were fighting against the dragon of the city of ash in order to reach the altar of the primal flame. One might also nickname Quetzalcoatl as Coco. Am I tripping? Perhaps. Uhhhh back to the regular schedule.

•Obsidian. Those paying close attention to Natlan's worldbuilding might see obsidian popping up again and again! This is because obsidian was highly valuable to ancient mesoamerican cultures. It was used in everything, from making cutting tools, to weapons, jewelry, art, and yes, religious purposes! Obsidian was thought to be the blood of the Earth and was used for bloodletting, statues of the gods, etc. which is why I find it especially fascinating that ancient names are made out of it. Plus all the Waylob Obsidian totems!

•Relay Ball. Some of you might be aware of the Relay Ball mechanic in the game! Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if this is inspired by the Mesoamerican Juego de Pelota/Ball game, an ancient sport where players struck a ball made out of rubber to send it through a hoop of stone! Dunno, just look at them pictures!

•Natlan food! While there's probably more that I didn't notice, the three main ones I remember are Chocolate, Xocoatl, and, of course, the tatacos. First off Xocoatl in the game is based of Xocolatl, which is a form of ancient hot chocolate made out of water and cacao the mexicas used to drink, particularly nobles and warriors. Next off is chocolate, which I was surprised to see! For some reason, I never see people talk about the fact that Chocolate actually originates from ancient Mexico, it was a treat to see (pun intended). Finally, tatacos. While it's obvious that these are tacos, I find it so cool that they actually didn't go for the meat ones but rather the ones made from shrimp from Ensenada! They are soooo good!

•Names names names! There's so many references in the names of many characters in the story! From Citlali, Granny Iztli (ik they're the same but the meaning has different origins!), Kinich, Xilonen, Chasca, etc. As well as the names of some of the places! Really, it's a treat reading through the story and seeing a name of an origin I recognize.

•Not exactly Natlan but I looove this hoyoverse Dia de Muertos post. The Cempasúchil? The papel picado? The catrin and the alebrijes??? I so hope they make an event similar to this next october/november!

That's all I'm including in my post, but there's so many things I didn't mention because I'm on my migraine arc. Hopefully this post gave you a bit of insight on some ways the game did represent our culture beyond the typical 'human-sacrificing savages' outlook. I loved Natlan and, though I wish we had darker-skinned playable characters (Sumeru fans 🤝 Natlan fans) and that the characters were voiced (What I get for being an English player), I do see that they dug pretty deep in our mythology and culture to create Natlan. I'd love to hear what other things you loved about the nation, or what things from your own culture you noticed! After all, ancient mexico is just one of several cultures used as inspiration. That's it from me, maybe I'll be back if I notice something particularly cool that I didn't mention. Have a great day!

[armageddon-generation]

Improving Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire (2024)

Frozen Empire has some neat ideas (Ancient ghostbusters, Phoebe & Melody, the Possessor, everything Dan Akroyd, Paul Rudd, James Acaster & Ernie Hudson do) but it’s bogged down by far too many characters and slavish fanservice. Afterlife was meant to pass the torch, but Frozen Empire is stuck replaying the greatest hits.

OPENING AND CHANGED VILLAIN

Instead of firefighters, we open on a 1900s team of ghost-hunters locking the villain Garraka away, led by Nadeem’s great-grandmother

Sealing Garraka away causes a huge explosion, and as we pull out of the burning building, we see a new ghost fly away. This is Melody, the ghost-girl, paralleling Egon’s ghost leaving his farmhouse in Afterlife's opening

Melody’s family were cultists who tried to summon big-bad Garraka. She’s the one who called the ghost-hunters to stop them, but was killed in the confrontation

Garraka tells Melody that her ‘unfinished business’ is summoning him to this dimension—the ritual she stopped her family completing. The only way she can be free is freeing him.

This establishes Melody’s distrust of ghost hunters, because they killed her

CUT CHARACTERS

Venkman and Janine don’t need to be here at all, they’re gone

Cut Podcast. Ray wistfully watches the opening car-chase  alone, out-of-the-loop. He seizes on the arrival of the Orb as his chance to get back in on the action. Podcast's absence also heightens Phoebe’s isolation

Cut Lucky. Her only real moment is defending Phoebe from Garraka, which itself was cut down from the trailers

THE AQUARIUM & COMMUNING WITH GHOSTS

‘Garraka wants to free the ghosts in the Firehouse’ is yet another reused plotpoint in a film full of them.

Instead the (much bigger) property damage in the opening chase loses the team the Firehouse completely, increasing Phoebe’s guilt and isolation

They’ve already been moving ghosts into Winston’s Aquarium lab, so go straight there

They’re testing new technology- think Ghostbusters (2016)’s ghost-chipper, proton-gloves, proton-grenades etc. Callie tests this stuff (bc she has nothing to do otherwise), bonding with Winston as the table uncle-figure she never had.

James Acaster's Dr. Lars is trying to communicate with the caged ghosts, to learn about the other side- he tries to interrogate one to no avail

The idea of someone volunteering to go on 'expeditions' as a ghost via the Spirit Extractor, like an abassador to the Afterlife, is brought up- both Phoebe and Ray are tempted

This makes Phoebe talking to Melody an incredible discovery- a sentient, talking ghost who apparently fully retains her humanity.

MELODY’S FAMILY

When Phoebe finds Melody in the diner, it’s because that's is where she was killed- where her family tried to summon Garraka.

Now the Orb is uncontained her family’s ghosts have become active again, and descend from the upper floors of the building to attack the diner.

Melody’s family are a Cluster Ghost- an amorphous blob of limbs and heads bonded by the sane traumatic cause of death, tripping over itself to get to her. This physical manifestation of her family trying to drag her down parallels Phoebe’s conflict about hers.

Phoebe now takes Melody on a tour of the Aquarium and they bond there, rather than the Firehouse

TREVOR

Finn Wolfhard's Trevor had fuck-all to do in this movie lmao

Replace his pointless sublpot with Slimer with him bonding with the Possessor ghost, which communicates through switching TV stations/radio channels.

The Possessor would probably need some kind of cute visual manifestation to sell this. Think Mogwai, Lilo and Stitch etc Slapstick antagonism turned genuine fun, games of catch etc

With Podcast gone, Trevor accompanies Phoebe and Ray to the library. When the Possessor tries to steal the chant recording he tries to reason with it- c'mon, man, I thought we were bonding, this isn’t you, Garraka’s controlling you, only to get absolutely dunked on

Ray’s research reveals that Garraka’s horns- the 'object' that allows its apparition to manifest- were hidden away separately from the orb

NADEEM'S GRANDMOTHER

To build on the theme of communicating with and humanizing ghosts, instead of pyrokenesis (which felt a little out of place) Kumail Nanjiani's Nadeem is literally possessed by his estranged grandmother.

The idea Nadeem was 'haunted' is already suggested, but by making it explicit we get the slapstick of her puppeteering his body and chewing him out for neglecting his family legacy- arguing with the same mouth etc

Swap Venkman questioning Nadeem with Callie, holding a comedic seance. This gives her a much-needed emotional beat bonding with him over their baggage with their ghost-hunting relatives (Egon vs Grandma). Callie expresses how it feels to reconnect with her dad's legacy, which Frozen Empire never gave us.

She then replaces Podcast helping Nadeem try to hone his powers- in this case, help him and his grandmother work together

GARRAKA THE GHOST-EMPEROR

Garraka can't manifest as a full apparition without its horns.

It's more like the Mind Flayer from Stranger Things, a hive-mind that works through other ghosts. When the ancient ghost-hunters banished Garraka to the Other Side it took over, and has ruled there ever since. This is the 'frozen empire' he's looking to expand

In this way ghosts are shifted from no longer strictly antagonistic, but victims of a cruel tyrant

 When Melody tricks Phoebe into freeing Garraka, it tries to take Phoebe's ghost as a vassal, but Melody volunteers herself to save her. Phoebe returns to her body just in time to see Melody be possessed.

Now Melody is more directly involved in the climax, giving the antagonist a complex, sympathetic face

Dr. Lars replaces Lucky trying to stop Garraka. It kills him to up the stakes

FINALE

Garraka takes Melody to the Diner, where she joins with her family’s Cluster, spreading its supernatural winter as it goes

Change the Death Chill so everyone Garraka chills has their spriti pulled out of them, to join it army of spectral drones. Everywhere it goes it's recruiting, getting stronger. If it finds its second horn it will be able to 'recruit' all of New York

Expand on the Possessor using the Ghostbusters’ own gear to fight them. It steals the Ecto-1 and all the old Proton packs

The new generation of Ghostbusters have to use the new tech they’ve been developing to defeat the old stuff.

Nadeem and his Grandmother finally call a truce and work together to play defence bending the proton streams. She grumbles about how bad this generation of ghost-hunters is

Trevor's bond with the Possessor causes it conflict when it tries to kill him- it fights itself, the equipment it's possessing self-destructing

From here it’s a race to stop Garraka collecting its horns. Garraka successfully finds the first, increasing the scale and power of the big freeze

In the final confrontation Phoebe lets Garraka pull her spirit from her body to loosen its hold on Melody. Melody lights her match: Her unfinished business wasn't to summon Garraka, it was to finish destroying him as she tried to when she died. Nadeem and his Grandmother incinerate the thing.

Again taking a good idea from Ghostbusters (2016), Phoebe is given the choice go to the Other Side with Melody, to finally discover and understand what happens next. Her family ask her to come back, hold on. Melody says that Phoebe should accept their love and support, as she was never loved or supported by her own family

Melody kisses Phoebe goodbye, because not following through on that (when we’ve seen ghosts make similar physical contact with people before) is taking the coward’s way out. They should've cast a minor!!

Nadeem's Grandmother gives her blessing to the ghost-hunters who inherited her family's responsibilities. Then she leaves his body and offers to guide Melody to the Other Side, apologizing for her death on her mother's behalf

We end with Podcast and Lucky finally arriving in New York for a summer internship with the Ghostbusters.

Dr. Lars has returned as a ghost to be an 'ambassador' to the Other Side (playing a ghost would really unleash James Acaster's weird and whacky side), and the Possessor is even working with them as a new team mascot.

Ray has settled into a role as the team's full-time researcher, rather than working in the field

[atopvisenyashill]

Hiiiii what are your theories on what post-resurrection Jon with be like?

So I AM curious if he’s gonna be a bit more animalistic. I went back to look at Varamyr and I feel like Varamyr is a weirdo but he doesn’t act like an animal, despite spending a lot of time as an animal. Now you can contrast this to some of the Starklings who will do shit like growl and howl and stuff, and Jojen in fact warns against staying an animal for too long.

“Bran the boy and Summer the wolf. You are two, then?"

"Two," he sighed, "and one." He hated Jojen when he got stupid like this. At Winterfell he wanted me to dream my wolf dreams, and now that I know how he's always calling me back.

"Remember that, Bran. Remember yourself, or the wolf will consume you. When you join, it is not enough to run and hunt and howl in Summer's skin."

But the thing is - it’s Rickon Bran and Arya doing that. Bran & Arya are barely old enough to be self aware and Rickon is a literal toddler (I think all the Starklings refer to him as “the baby” not as in “the youngest” but as in he is TINY still). Jon is sixteen. I do wonder if he adjusts better simply because he’s older. But to flip back again…Varamyr is our only reference and Jojen explicitly warns against it. So will Jon have a temper? Will he growl, go nonverbal when emotional, like Rickon does? Will he howl at the moon like Bran and Arya? Will other people find him unsettling? Not in the “why is this grown man acting like a wolf” way but in that way that actual wolves are unsettling….you know the stories about how you KNOW if you’ve seen a wolf because they’re fuck off huge, they LOOK like predators, and your instincts tell you “this thing can kill me” in a way they don’t when you see a regular dog? What if he’s just unnerving to be around?

I do wonder about his physical look as well. Every person who ~comes back from the dead~ still bares the scars they got while dying. Beric & LSH’s injuries seem to healing human slow - that is to say, if they hadn’t received killing blows, Cat’s vocal chords would be healing at about the rate we see LSH start to regain speech, and Beric’s various cuts are scarring & healing at a normal rate. Bran is paralyzed. Drogo is…all of that. Will he face some issues with his body because the wounds are still healing? Will he have some more stiffness in his limbs, like the way his burnt hand has problems? I don’t really know how he would pick up the red eyes and white hair from ghost - Beric, LSH, Bran, even Drogo, they don’t suddenly change eye or hair color or something, and Brynden was BORN albino it’s not like his magic made him that way later - but I’m ngl I still kind of hope he’ll have the red eyes, I think it’s neat. He doesn’t need white hair tho I think that’s overkill.

When it comes to his priorities, I think we're going to see a huge shift. I know everyone ragged on the show for just having Jon be like "yeah i'm peacing out bye" bc there's going to be more hubbub than that but I do think Jon is going to feel incredibly jaded when it comes to the Night's Watch. I always come back to his confrontation with Maester Aemon and the fact that Aemon is distressed by his choice to not attempt to help Elia and her babies...

Maester Aemon sighed. “Have you heard nothing I’ve told you, Jon? Do you think you are the first?” He shook his ancient head, a gesture weary beyond words. “Three times the gods saw fit to test my vows. Once when I was a boy, once in the fullness of my manhood, and once when I had grown old. By then my strength was fled, my eyes grown dim, yet that last choice was as cruel as the first. My ravens would bring the news from the south, words darker than their wings, the ruin of my House, the death of my kin, disgrace and desolation. What could I have done, old, blind, frail? I was helpless as a suckling babe, yet still it grieved me to sit forgotten as they cut down my brother’s poor grandson, and his son, and even the little children …” Jon was shocked to see the shine of tears in the old man’s eyes. ...“Once. So you see, Jon, I do know … and knowing, I will not tell you stay or go. You must make that choice yourself, and live with it all the rest of your days. As I have.” His voice fell to a whisper. “As I have …”

There’s nothing he could have done and he knows it. AND YET. How do you justify to yourself hiding out at the Wall in safety while children of your house are slaughtered? How do you make your peace with it? You can’t! Love is the death of duty!! Aemon doesn’t ever make peace with it! He spends the last days of his life hating himself for being so old, being unable to help Dany, reaching out for the brother he’s long lost in his dreams. I think being murdered by his men, after months of arguing with them, of trying to get them to put aside their shitty little beef with the wildlings and focus on the real threats to their safety, and the knowledge that “Arya” is ALIVE OUT THERE, it’s all going to massively change his priorities. When you factor in the girl in gray turning out to be Sansa (don’t boo me i’m right!!)…I don’t think he’s going to hem and haw about being a brother of the night’s watch, I think he’s taking his shit, and he’s getting the fuck out of dodge.

But when it comes to his state of mind…again, I’ve come around to the idea that Jon is going to be resurrected 100% due to Northern type magic, and not anything Melisandre is doing. I’m willing to be wrong on this one btw, I do think there’s still a shot some funky magic brings him back but I think with all the build up to Jon actively warging, to accepting his magic, and opening his third eye, is in fact building up not just to Jon spending a long time in Ghost while his body is found and resurrected, but that his body will HEAL while he’s not in it the way Bran’s does, and he comes back to an injured but on the mend body.

If he’s waiting around for his body to heal though, he’s going to be spending a hot minute inside Ghost & greenseeing. Possibly longer than Bran did. I think like Bran, he’ll have his own mini vision quest as he wanders and sleeps in ghost’s body - and I think he’s going to find out Bran is still alive. See, Bran figures out that Robb is dead through a green dream, then buries the memory-

The dream he'd had . . . the dream Summer had had . . . No, I mustn't think about that dream. He had not even told the Reeds, though Meera at least seemed to sense that something was wrong. If he never talked of it maybe he could forget he ever dreamed it, and then it wouldn't have happened and Robb and Grey Wind would still be . . .

And we know Summer is aware of his scattered siblings, dwelling on them often. I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility that the connection works the other way. We also know Bran is still dwelling on his family, with his weirwood dreams focusing on Ned. Similar to Aemon, similar to Jon’s whole story, Bran struggles in balancing his love for his family with what he feels is his duty. Not only that but imo there’s a lot of connections between Jon and Bran when it comes to magic. Jon is the only character we see saying goodbye to Bran, which has always stuck out to me. Bran also attempts to open Jon’s third eye before Robb (presumably - i think if bran was talking to robb in his dream, he would have brought it up) Sansa, Arya, or Rickon (again, presumably).

It seemed to sprout from solid rock, its pale roots twisting up from a myriad of fissures and hairline cracks. The tree was slender compared to other weirwoods he had seen, no more than a sapling, yet it was growing as he watched, its limbs thickening as they reached for the sky. Wary, he circled the smooth white trunk until he came to the face. Red eyes looked at him. Fierce eyes they were, yet glad to see him. The weirwood had his brother's face. Had his brother always had three eyes?

Not always, came the silent shout. Not before the crow…. Don’t be afraid, I like it in the dark. No one can see you, but you can see them. But first you have to open your eyes. See? Like this. And the tree reached down and touched him.

And Bran has that near miss where he and Jon are in the same places at the same time, with Bran running into Sam & Gilly. Additionally, we get all those scenes with Mormont’s crow doing weird stuff and we have no idea if it’s Bloodraven or Bran - it’s very possible Bran At Some Point In Time has been trying to get Jon’s attention for a long time.

All of that to say I think there’s a build up to Jon and Bran being the first Starklings to reunite, but not in body, just in mind! While trapped in Ghost’s body greendreaming about his thought to be dead brother, Bran will have the opportunity to jumpstart Jon’s magic the way his was, and Jon will realize Bran is still alive - potentially even exchanging important information about the Others, Winterfell, and Jon’s real parents…Both boys return to their bodies, turn to the people they’ve sworn their lifetimes to and go “actually fuck this shit and fuck you too” and try to leave.

Try, being the operative word here, of course.

[mybeautifulwifegojo]

free to literally any home: whatever the fuck this fragment of a story is

~

The shrine was very pretty, clean and newly-painted, surrounded by elegant greenery, neat stone-gardens, and a mix of every kind of blue and white flower native to the area. There were two incredibly ancient jasmine bushes, one on either side of the entrance, heavy with blooms. Inside, at the back of the shrine, was an old, weathered statue carved of pale wood, of a man sitting in lotus position, eyes closed, his hands palm-up in his lap. Cradled in his hands was a bronze vajra.

The priest was explaining that the vajra had actually been the magical weapon of a mighty half-demon, half-human warrior, and that the statue was the last remnant of a demigod who had battled him into submission on this very hill, sealing the weakened demon in his own weapon. Itadori Yuji was not paying attention, like most of his classmates. This was the final stop on the trip, and most of the kids were just longing to sit down and eat dinner, before maybe going out to buy souvenirs if they hadn’t found anything that day. Yuji was no exception.

He scratched his head and let his eyes wander, over the paintings hung, six on each wall; they were faded and dull, but still clearly displayed scenes of battle. A man in a black kimono patterned with red, blue, and purple stars fought a demon in white hakama, the cuffs drenched with blood. Yuji couldn’t really tell if either of them were winning or losing, but he did like the look of the man in black.

The demon looked too much like him, unpleasantly enough. He’d heard of “historical doppelgangers”, but he wasn’t too keen on posting photos comparing his face to that of a mythical murderer online. It was mostly the hair, anyway—a sort of puce color that could have been pink, if nature were just a little bit crueler. Although the birthmarks on his cheekbones that had started as just unusually symmetrical freckles last year were in the same spots as the demon’s secondary pair of eyes, too.

Yuji returned his attention to the other man—the demigod.

Even in such an exaggerated style, he was oddly handsome. Yuji was too far back to see the statue clearly, but the painting closest to him hadn’t faded much around the demigod’s face. His eyes were an almost metallic sky blue (how had they managed that in the Heian era?), his hair a cloud of white, and he was smiling, wide and triumphant. Thus the blue and white flowers, then; this shrine was dedicated to him, after all.

The priest—an unusually chipper one, who wore a black beanie that clashed rather strangely with his very traditional kimono and hakama—urged all the students to try and pick up the vajra from the statue’s hands, assuring them that it was not secured to the wood in any way. The first to try was, of course, Sasaki-senpai, who had been enraptured with the priest’s tale; her adoration of all things spooky and occult extended quite naturally to bloody battles between demons and demigods. But try as she might, she was unable to lift the bronze.

This prompted the other students to become interested. The priest grinned and repeatedly swore there was no trick to it; but as each teenager attempted to wrest the vajra from the statue’s open, offering hands, this became quite obvious as a lie.

Yuji was still staring at the demigod’s portrait, thinking idly that he looked really fun. The kind of person who’d play silly pranks on people to try and get them to smile. Someone irritating, but friendly.

“Itadori!” Sasaki-senpai shrieked imperiously, “You have to try!”

“Hmm?” Yuji turned to where his classmates were crowded around the statue. “Why? If none of you can get it, I can’t, either.”

“You’re the strongest, you have to!” one of the boys said, and the others all clamored agreement.

Yuji made a face, but walked over, shoulders hunching as his classmates stared intently. “Can you all please not look at me like that?” he snapped. “I’m not that strong.”

“Yes you are! Come on, just try!”

With one last roll of his eyes, and a put-upon sigh, Yuji reluctantly reached out and—

—and plucked the vajra from the statue’s hands.

“Huh?” he said.

“Eh?!” Sasaki-senpai squawked.

“Oh,” the priest said, in tones of deep horror, “Oh, no.”

A soundless explosion of light and cool air smelling of jasmine and mint filled the shrine, knocking down the students and their teacher—except Yuji, who just felt a soft breeze against his skin. He blinked hard, clearing the spots that danced across his vision, and his gaze was captured by two incredibly blue eyes.

For a long moment, his breath caught in his chest. Those eyes… they couldn’t be real. They weren’t human. They were so brilliant, so multi-faceted; every flower, every summer sky, every gem and bit of dyed glass, every scrap of silk, glowing with their own brilliance.

They were sad, those eyes.

Then they blinked, and a warm baritone voice said, full of relief, “Oh, good. It worked.”

~\0/~

Gojo Satoru, jujutsu sorcerer, had sacrificed his own humanity to seal Ryomen Sukuna, because he had realized they were too equally matched, and he hadn’t wanted to die just yet.

The seal was… not fully his own. He’d called on his divine mother for aid, in a painfully childish display of being entirely out of his depth, and she had answered. Sukuna was sealed, and Satoru was transformed into the anchor that would keep him bound until… well, he wasn’t sure. His ears had stopped registering sound before his mother could finish her explanation. She had lingered just long enough to designate her half-mortal son’s final resting place as holy land, before kissing him on his newly-wooden forehead and returning to her palace.

He’d lost track of time, of course. He was just a soul in a hunk of wood. He could feel Sukuna raging against the seal tying him to his own weapon, and dedicated himself to keeping the seal powered; it would not weaken or fade as long as he lived, and since he was functionally immortal, that meant the seal was too.

Hands often tugged at Sukuna’s coffin, but they were all full of desire: for power, for pride, for approval, for someone to take them seriously. Satoru rejected them all, spitefully, even those who were strong enough to take his place. He would not let such hunger ruin the world again.

Until a hand entered his awareness that rejected him right back, simmering with nothing more than youthful annoyance and a deep, unending loneliness. A soul that knew the pain of being on a pedestal, and longed for someone to treat it like a person. A soul like Satoru.

And so… he let that hand take his burden.

His mother’s spell unraveled, leaving him flesh and blood once more. He inhaled, blinked, and was caught in the startled gaze of the sweetest, warmest brown eyes he had ever seen.

“Oh, good,” Satoru said, relieved. “It worked.”

[meli-writes]

Boar and the Lamb - Ch. 03

(Read on AO3) /// (First) / (Previous)

As distant moonlight creeps between the shutters, pressed closed with their battens, Kori draws out an old boardgame from beneath the floorboards where it had been hidden between potted fruits and pickled fish.

“When did you know?” Kori asks, when the Princess is sitting in the armchair across from her — perched on the bed the Princess refused to sleep in — with the board between them.

She won’t even take the blanket back, and sits ramrod straight as both overlook neat, opposed arrangements of delicately-carved wooden soldiers; each soft and well-worn from its storied succession of variably-appreciative owners.

“That I’d be a consort?” she says, pressing her first piece forward. She’s taken the ‘Other’ side to Kori’s Humans. An exoticised, ahistorical amalgam of Elfs, Dwarfs, and anyone else Humans have felt entitled to swipe the land from under.

Kori nods, matches her move so Elf and Human piece stand face-to-face, sword-to-sword.

The Princess is too privileged to recognise how rare Kori’s set really is — to even know what a normal set looks like. She considers the bosomously-detailed Queen-piece in her hands: an ancient, irretractable statement of the intent upon her, “When I stopped pretending I was a prince.”

Kori flushes in embarrassment through a series of her-incompetence-meets-inexperienced moves that has her Siege Towers gracelessly wrapping the Queen in a curtain wall.

The Princess’ next idle, impatient move leaves it nowhere else to go.

“Ugh. Foolish mistake,” she adds emptily, like it was ever a choice. “And now my only use is in being unable to bear bastards. It could’ve been one of my sisters instead…”

Several temper-worsening losses later — despite Kori’s clumsy, stared-down attempts to self-handicap — the Princess has folded bodily into an impenetrable silence.

The Princess presses her thumb through a loop in the chain and squeezes till her hand turns white again, and, when she reaches to make her next move, the rest of the unwillingly-led chain trips over a carefully manoeuvred rank of Elfish Spearman-analogues. Kori looks at the leaf outfits and decides the wiser course is not to inquire about their accuracy and loses her chance to fuck up anyway when the Princess clears the rest of the board with a shriek that pushes through her teeth like wet fish through a garlic crusher.

One of the poor, unfortunate wooden soldiers bounces across a bare patch of floor into the hearth. Heedless to the bloody consequence, Kori lunges for it and it hurts. She tries again with a hastily-donned glove and still can’t bear the heat, retreating with a bitter, defeated hiss.

It’s not like she was allowed to take the set. Or should have it.

But it is hers.

Chains scrape and bump over the uneven floorboards, and scatter the other, miniature survivors in their wake. Before Kori can finish chewing a hole through her cheek in pain and indecision, the Princess reaches over her shoulder and plucks the wounded wood with a restrained sense of urgency. He’s a little charred; missing his spearpoint; but is safe.

The Princess, if she’s hurt at all for the act, doesn’t show it; settles back in what is starting to feel to Kori like the Princess’ own throne, and not her coach-looted armchair. The kind of thanks Kori thinks is best to show is the one where she quietly cleans it all up, and peeks through the shutter for the dozenth time knowing well the weather won’t have changed.

“Your magic. Can it… do stuff with nature?” Kori poses, when at last she’s settled down.

The Princess’s face contorts in several directions at once, but Kori would insist the question came from somewhere sensible in her head. She folds her brow low, and holds her thumb at its tip as she waits for no answer.

Until, “Yes.”

Kori blinks. “You know — would have a lot of use for that around here,” she says, eager in the way water is to leak out a bottomless bucket. Maybe Kori could grow more than her tubers, and her not-quite Highness could look a little less sullen for having grown them.

“No.”

“Yeah,” Kori concedes. “I know.”

Or maybe she couldn’t. It took Kori a while to. If she did at all.

---

It’s after another hour’s stare that the Princess-on-her-throne deigns to address the issue of their present, silent stand-off. She’s interpreted the question Kori has stuck in her throat, perhaps in a less charitable manner than Kori would ask.

“No. I’m not sleeping,” she answers.

Kori repeats herself in a doomed attempt to be soothing, “Hey now, no one’s gonna follow you while it’s this bad.”

The Princess rolls her eyes.

“I’m not sleeping,” she reiterates — and Kori knows exactly what she’s going to say, just that it’s a bad idea to presume it verbally: “because I don’t trust you.”

It seems easier to cut around the issue because Kori knows she can’t quite respond in kind. “How long has it been since you last slept?” she asks. Elfs are known for odd sleeping after all, at least as odd as the rest of their nature. Kori read that in a book.

“What did I just say about trust?” the Princess points out.

She’s more adept at this game than the one where they’re all made out of wood.

Not that Kori can’t be too sometimes. Even if the years alone have dulled her like her little spearman.

“Is it longer, or shorter, since you last ate?” 

…

“Longer.”

The conversation doesn’t continue past that but Kori hasn’t slept for long before the Princess follows, and in her slump off the chair lets her chains wash over the floor as a raucous sea of twisted metal.

It shakes Kori back awake, leaving her to stare at the chained, naked Princess, tipped over into the morass of her own bondage. She prods and gets no response, the Princess out cold as the snow — unable to weather her own inelfish exhaustion. Kori lifts her back into the armchair, and fetches a small, stuffed animal from her own bed: a soft-toothed sea-dog she won’t ever tell anyone again is called Phillip.

The Princess’ fingers curl around it with the same furious measure as her spoon, squeezing it to what Kori worries for a moment is bursting. She tucks the blanket around the Princess’ back and over her shoulders, then brushes the hair back over her ears, and goes back to bed herself.

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

[druidshollow]

infodumping about rain world ancient ocs- about that ask i just answered

just in case the incredible @inkycorvid wanted me to talk about my ancient ocs instead of my ancient headcanons im making a post talking about my idiot guys in a very annoying structure. gotta cover all my bases

MANY SMALL "FLOWERS", ONE QUICK GLANCE

he/him, bisexual, sometimes has beard barbells sometimes doesn't. middle aged (in genetically modified to live for a longass time terms), very much divorced. admin to eleven rivers, not very nice to eleven rivers.

HOW TO IDENTIFY A FLOWERS IN THE WILD:

-like never smiles, always looks either pissed off or miserable

-his mask is very wedge-shaped. big karma 10 symbols on sides

-practically every time red is used in the context of my rain world ocs it relates to him. either symbolically or literally. see red highlights???? probably flowers' fucking fault!!

-two strands of hair always fall in face

-wears wrappings often. once my bf said he probably wouldnt get divorced so hard if he wasnt dressed like a weird mummy

-no left ear

COOL FLOWERS FACTS

-comes from a considerably privileged background. family had incredibly high expectations

-traumatized by everlasting fire's attack and afraid of iterators. will not enter a puppet chamber unless entirely necessary

-creates strong emotional attachments and reacts to rejection with self-isolation and bitterness

-late game, before he begins his plan to demolish eleven rivers and ascend himself but after the twins are awake he begins drinking an unhealthy amount and projecting his anger all over the place, especially towards rivers

-likes vultures. thinks they're crazy neat

-does not and can not have any comprehension of the ramifications his douchebaggery will bring about in the future (huge rammies. absolutely massive rammies)

-becomes an echo when he tries to ascend. his echo sits right snug over eleven rivers' chamber!

FLIGHT TO THE SUN, HOMEWARD "DESCENT"

she/her, bisexual, sometimes wears fancy shinies on her hair. middle aged in modified to live a very long time terms. flowers' ex wife. doing WAY better than him. admin to a fleck of flame, very nice to a fleck of flame.

HOW TO IDENTIFY A DESCENT IN THE WILD:

-blue, cream stripes, frills on upper back

-short face, short hair, short body. short

-walks with cane after everlasting fire's attack

-implant in right ear later game, ear still there

-does in fact smile! makes lots of smug faces. she is in general very emotionally intense and expressive, and is also very morally headstrong. quick to jump to anger when she thinks lines have been crossed.

COOL DESCENT FACTS

-she was named "flight to the sun, thirteen sparks" at birth, and changed it when she was enrolled in the school of solutions

-punk by ancient society terms. not big on ascension, very much a "don't we have it pretty fuckin good? why are we in such a rush to leave" kind of person

-stayed in the iterator project after fire's failure because in losing him she realized how human the iterators were. spent her life working to make their rights more solid and complexities more widely understood

-very close friends with fleck. looks at fleck as her son, looked at fire as her son as well

-met flowers at the start of their schooling. they quickly bonded as they got to work together and were endorsed for esteemed position together

-left flowers in part because of the trauma surrounding the situation with fire, but more because she didn't like what she was beginning to see in flowers. he invented the first model of the demolishers after fire's attack, which descent hated. they would have split up eventually even if fire had lived and they'd continued work on him together. i think their political views and morals are too different, and their personalities too headstrong for it to've been avoided forever

"WANDER"ING AIMLESSLY WITH EVERLASTING JOY

she/he/they, genderfluid and swaps pronouns often. pansexual. like in their late 20s early 30s equivalently. admin to glass incident. flowers' younger sibling, probably a nepotism hire

HOW TO IDENTIFY A WANDER IN THE WILD:

-shithead or confident expression

-lots of ear piercings, bridge piercing. no permanent ear implant

-three "bangs" fall on face. tends to let hair down when feeling more feminine and tie it up when feeling masculine

-frills on arms

-dresses a bit... revealing sometimes to be fully honest. wears a mask the least out of their group, doesn't like it for sensory reasons

-quite similar to flowers in shapes and colours, just with green stripes instead of red

COOL WANDER FACTS

-actually quite intelligent and insightful, but their primal need to cause chaos and keep everything lighthearted often overpowers this

-since flowers did so well in school and had his first project be a massive failure, lots of higher eyes were on wander throughout school

-joined the iterator project to stay near flowers

-was VERY happy to be selected to work with corners

-puts maybe too much energy into caring for flowers and trying to help him, when he pushes back so hard

THE LESS IMPORTANTS :D

bark, cloud, smoke, west and journey are less important background characters! ive never even drawn bark or journey until right now, lmao

bark is a very old man who just wants to do his work in peace. cloud is an introvert who is very calm and professional. smoke is pretentious and self-involved. they're a teacher at the school of solutions and endorsed flowers and descent for the esteemed position. west is a hot guy flowers knew in school that he had a short-lived fling with after his divorce. journey was rivers' admin before flowers, but then she went to the void so she had to be replaced.

hope this suffices and everyone is properly tired of seeing these guys!

[non-euclidianavalanche]

One of my favorite things in video games is unclear lore, or just a lack thereof. In a world of Game Theory and hundreds of thousands of lore-centric games throughout history, having one that's just...

Oh! Hey look, it's them again!

Who is this? Neow of course! What do we know about them? absolutely nothing!

Okay, that's not entirely true. But it's so sparse it may as well be nothing. Described as a large whale-like creature with 6 eyes, Neow is some sort of cosmic entity from beyond this plane. She seems to have some sort of vendetta against the spire (You are Slaying the Spire after all...) And resurrects your character's dead body to do it all over again. Roguelikes my beloved, they couldn't make me hate you. There are four characters you can play as:

Ironclad: Look, he's your first d&d character. Human(?) fighter who made demonic pacts after his village was destroyed by a raging fire. (Which I'm pretty sure was also caused by demons but whatever, you do you king) From a martial arts standpoint, it's all forms of fighting. Obviously a sword fighter, but the card art shows all different types of weapons and ways they fight. They're skilled, and are now acting as a reincarnated warrior to forever fight the spire. (While reading through the Wiki I learned they are predominantly featured on a colorless card [can be in any deck] instead of a rare red card, which is pretty neat)

Silent: (my girl frfr) Your second d&d character, a poisoner rogue reminiscent of when you played Skyrim for the 8th time this year. A rogue, her description being "A deadly huntress from the Foglands. Eradicates her foes with daggers and poisons" She has similar head garb to a few enemies, and thematically fits super well. She seems less pushed out of the Foglands as they call it, and more like she was led here. As though her mind was fully clouded and she arrived. She seems to be a sort of bounty hunter, assassin typed beat. But just like... Why? Answers naught to be found.

Defect: Beep Boop, Robot that has fucking magic(?) "A combat automoton which became self aware. Ancient technology allows the manipulation of orbs."

Sorry not sorry but that's magic. (Dope magic too) It is considered self-aware, and based on some events dialogue you find it has one directive. Balance. Now, why in the hell did a robot seeking balance end up in a giant spire? No idea, not a damn thing is said about it. They're just there and awesome. (Defect is my favorite though, gameplay wise. I'm sorry, shocking you with 40+ damage by literally just pressing End Turn in a card game is so funny.)

Watcher: (my favorite by design and it's not even close.) Look at her, she's so pretty and pretentious and holier than thou. (One of the events details her walking into a room where a bloody fight is happening, waiting patiently until it's over, then just going up to the next room. She gives zero shits.) "A blind ascetic who has come to 'Evaluate' the spire. Master of the Divine Stances." She's a monk, and a cool one at that. Her play style is all about switching stances, and really brings out the longer turns and heavier impacts if you know what you're doing. So, you'd think with them releasing desperately from the other characters in the series they'd come with some lore, right?

Right?

Right?

A little bit. But not enough to give us anything we didn't already know.

So sure, yadda yadda, all these characters but what is the spire? The titled spire of which we are to slay?

A big fuck off tower in the middle of nowhere, that leads forever into the sky. And here's the best part, you never even fight the spire itself. Sure, you fight growths and things made by and from the tower. But the final boss isn't the building.

If, throughout your trials of the three floors and multiple bosses needed to get through. You sacrifice a relic from a chest, choosing to meditate instead of rest, and defeat a burning elite. You get three keys, which let you into the final level.

Chapter 4: The Ending

Instead of a large scroll map through the individual nodes, you get a map with one singular path.

A campfire to rest, a merchant to buy any last minute potions or cards, and then an elite fight before the final boss. Remember how I said earlier that you don't fight the spire? You don't, but you do fight growths and eventually its heart.

Fight the tentacle and shield combo that are in the elite fight, (who are both little bitches btw) and you'll come face to face with the Corrupted Heart

This is the final boss. You can only do a certain amount of damage to it per turn, and every card you play deals you 1 damage to you! (2 later in the fight) Fucking rude.

But let's say you do it. Let's say the blade strikes through, or the electricity ceases the heart. You win! Congrats, you get to see a little animatic. (Side note, love the art style of this game) Of the character leaving the spire... And just kinda looking around. Then you get one of my favorite end screens of any game.

So just like... Yeah, you did it! 🎉🎉🎉 Rogue like gameplay says you did all of the things, and you got to the end. But something about not knowing all of it gnaws at you when you look from the surface. This whole post is made with bare bones research (300 hours and a few fandom searches, which is where all of the images are from) and I still feel like I know less than when I started. Sequel coming out early next year, and I'm very excited! That's all.

Oh, totally unrelated! Play Monster Train. It's not this game, but it's very similar. Card games, train going down through hell to reignite it. Very fun time.

[fuckyeahastrophysics]

Available now on Kindle Vella!

The first 3 episodes are free. Please follow the story if you're interested! A bit more details below.

There's crude humor, heavy fucking language, violence, drama, romance, and tons of neat scifi stuff... Shit, what more could you want? *pats self on back*

There's a mysterious and hauntingly beautiful trans space witch, a hot and brooding "Emo Greek God" scientist, a cryptic and reclusive ancient alien race billions of years more advanced than everyone else, an ethereal being that lives outside of time and space, realistic autistic characters, and lots of talk about mental health.

****

Written by me an Autistic/ADHD human. Cheers if you remember this post from just over a year ago. I haven't stopped writing! This is a series that will eventually be a book (like it was supposed to be) but I find posting in this more digestible format pleasing. It pleases me. Yes, quite, indeed.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Magic System, But Badly Tag! (1)

Thank you so much for the tag @cowboybrunch (here)!

Rules: Explain the magic system of your current WIP as poorly as possible. Bonus points if you use bullet points.

Let's talk about the magic system of Song of Thorns (:

Elemental

ATLA vibes but medieval

someone really should keep an eye on the Initiates - these angsty teenagers with a god complex should not be left unattended

Powers range from "Look, I can light a candle with the tip of my finger, isn't it neat?" to "I CAN CONTROL THE STORMS, FEAR ME" and it is complicated

Lesson No. 1 - Don't trust the nice instructors on the weird-looking trial maze or you will die = STREET SMARTS

who cares about reading all those ancient tomes, let's improvise in the middle of an untamed wilderness or ocean brimming with wild magic, now that's a good idea

Animus Codex

soul magic with a celestial's blessing

can weave fates, lives, and entire existences with a series of secret runes on a specific set of cards/tablets

a select group of people know what tf is going on with this magic but everyone is too afraid to really ask

rune casting requires ancient magic components that definitely are anything but safe

either the celestials loved this civilization way too much or hated it with a passion

Sanguinex Arts (human only)

Lazy human royals really wanted to be vampires but didn't want to transform themselves and made it everyone's problem

"Can I copy your homework?" "No, absolutely not -!" "Too late already did it."

A cheap knockoff of something beyond mortal comprehension created by an insane set of human sorcerers who could not give less of a fuck

"I think I understand how they do it" - they did not, in fact understand how it was done

Feast your eyes on the eldritch abominations and trauma inducing shite created by human stupidity at its finest

A distortion of all that is moral and decent, used by the royals to expand their lifespans and oppress those who do not have access to their power

A generally bad time

Traditional Hemomancy (Vampyr/Fey only)

an ancient Vampyr tradition, tied to their very existence (and which was cheaply copied by humans to create the Sanguinex)

"General rule of thumb - do not piss off a vampire who has something or someone to protect, unless you fancy seeing how your insides look on the outsides"

Create & Destroy, Life & Death - this magic can heal or kill and is connected to the balance of nature

Blood Magic mixed with Matter Manipulation

"Roses are red, violets are blue, if the moon turns crimson you'll die soon" - a lesson some characters in this book should've learned before venturing further into this land

generally chill and laid back sorcerers who really don't want to have to use their powers to hurt people and just wanna have a good time

Alchemical Sorcery

Fucked Around and Found Out, Special Edition.

Potions slowly change you to be able to cast magic but it's fine because you know what you're doing. Hopefully.

Chemical components and suspicious magical ingredients create unforeseen creations = chemistry magic

You are cursed with the knowledge you wish you never had

Need to go to an elite academia to get a certificate permission in case you blow stuff up with your alchemy

Let's shape the very matter of existence after chemistry class 101

Melodis Mortem (forbidden)

"The Song of the Dead" - just a fancy name for a bunch of academia dropouts practicing off-the-book necromancy in a cult.

Let's raise your great-grandpa from beyond the grave because what could possibly go wrong- and he is now a murderous ghoul. Yeah, my bad. We'll do better next time.

Necromancer bards

All these books, guidelines and bloodied ritual circles might just be a way of hiding the fact they don't know what tf they're doing and are relying on lucky improv most of the time.

🎶Spooky scary skeletons send shivers down your spine🎶

"Well, well, well if it isn't the Consequences of my actions."

Mechana Ignis (elven only, secret)

combustion magic

steampunk/solarpunk elf society

gunpowder/"Sunpowder" go brr

"Nah, we ain't sharing this with you lunatics, bruv. This is our magic that goes boom and pew-pew on command. Not yours, nuh-uh, you're too fucking crazy to use it responsibly."

elves bored with eternity decide to do cool science stuff to pass the time and the world isn't ready for it

Tagging: @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab, @little-peril-stories

@the-ellia-west, @winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and OPEN TAG