#and by this i mean. just human existence in general

[writers-potion]

hiya! i was wondering if you have a post on how to create a god/deity for your story? thanks!

Writing Deities 

What Type of God?

The form and characteristics of your deity characters will depend highly on the overall worldbuilding and mood of your story. Here are some common deity “types”:

Human-like gods who make their own share of mistakes, are tempted by desires (think of Greek/Roman Gods)

“God” as a formless, omnipotent force of the universe that directs people’s fates 

An omnipotent God vs, Many gods in charge of one element or thing

Gods who command large spheres of elements (like sea, fire, war, etc.) vs. God of petty things (e.g. the God of morning coffee) 

The appearance of a God will reflect what the people of that culture look up to. They can resemble an animal, have almost monster-like features or just look human more or less. 

The Implications of Immortality

A god would generally be immortal, and this would be a major difference between your superheroes and a god. They cannot die and therefore are free from the fear of death, which is the most powerful motivator for our heroes. 

This means that you’ll need to assign a flaw so that you can kick your deity characters’ butts. Often, this comes from the very fact that gods are immortal. 

A tragic backstory of the god losing a human they cared about

A god who wants to die 

A god who was kind and compassionate, but grew irritable and tired after seeing eons of human stupidity. 

A god who regrets creating the world 

Set up limits of their power. Gods cannot invade each other’s territory or they cannot bring back people from the dead. Or they aren’t allowed to roam in modern clothing, and your god happens to hate armor.

In essence, deity characters exist to question the reader’s belief about an aspect of life. Gods are often personifications of abstract concepts and through them you can convey a message about what you think is important. 

For example, a Love Goddess may be a shriveled hag while her daughter, the Goddess of Passion, may be a standard beauty. This immediately conveys the message that a pleasing appearance is no substantial factor of true love. 

A God’s “Personality” 

The most important part of a god’s personality is going to be their attitude towards humans, since the purpose of a god is to command over and protect lives other than theirs. 

How does the god feel about being assigned a “job” at birth? Or did they choose to be a god (any regrets)?

Generally, a god’s personality would be linked to the thing they command. The god of the sea may be capricious but surprisingly open-minded; the god of trees may be generous but stubborn, etc. 

You can:

Summarize the god’s motto in a single sentence. It can be something philosophical or even comical, depending on the mood of your story. (e.g. “Love is cruel,” “Donuts are always right.”)

What kind of humans the god would like the most vs. hate the most

In general, are they compassionate/loving or sadistic/pessimistic?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[specshroom]

Ok so what do you think would make a monster INSTANTLY attracted to someone. And then how do you think they would vocalize/show it?With said monsters being orcs, merfolk, centaurs, driders, werewolves, and vampires

Okokok so these are all obviously just my opinion :) but here we go:

🧌 I think in orc culture the women initiate romantically and sexually just as much as the men, as opposed to human culture where the men generally are expected to initiate more. So I think any orc would find it hot if you were the one to flirt and initiate contact first.

- They like humans who know what they want and go for it.

- They like humans who can hold their liquor. They just think it's hot.

- They like humans who are a little vulgar. Who swear and shout and are a little rowdy maybe?

- So if you want to attract an orc your best bet would be to just go up to one and flirt heavily with them. If they like you they'll think it's hot that you show your attraction so boldly and they'll flirt back just as hard.

🧜Merfolk generally keep to themselves and their underwater cities. For a merfolk to be swimming in shallow waters means they're probably curious about the surface already.

- These merfolk will be instantly intrigued by a human who is as interested in them as the merfolk is with the surface. They just really like humans who try and talk to them, frantically ask them questions about their species and just seem enamored with their existence.

- A merfolk will fall for a human who brings them cool human stuff they've never seen before and enthusiastically tells them stories about the surface world.

- They'd appreciate humans who aren't scared to swim with them. They know the water is not a humans natural place and that it takes a lot of trust for them to be so vulnerable. They'd straight up take that as a confession of love from the human.

🐎 In my head centaurs are often depicted as strong stern types. Like noble warriors and such so I think they'd admire humans who are resourceful and independent.

- They won't like any human who disrespects nature. Killing unnecessarily or destroying/ littering wildlife is an absolute no go.

- They like outdoorsy humans who like nature walks or mountain climbing, that kind of shit. Anything from fishing to bird watching really.

- They find archery very attractive for some reason.

- Centaurs are known for being steely and almost cold so if one likes you they probably won't show it immediately but slowly over time by engaging in your shared interests.

🕷️ I think driders are often starved for affection. In my headcanon, driders don't get much affection from their parents because they're very independent and able from a young age so they're never really coddled as children.

- So I think driders would like a human who treats them very gently and sweetly despite not needing too at all because they're fierce hunters.

- They're not the most approachable monsters with their eight beady eyes and venom filled chelicerae. They don't initiate with humans much because they know they can be frightening. It can be isolating for them so they'd love if a human showed no fear towards them and instead treated them as if they were cute rather than scary.

- They'd be absolutely smitten if a human coddled and babied them, calling them grossly sweet petnames like "cutey", "darling" or "baby" while caressing their face gently. Just treating them with such care even though they could kill the human very easily. They might even cry from the affection.

🦇 I think vampires appreciate humans who aren't childish but still have a love for life. People who are lively and curious about the world but still mature and driven.

- I think humans who are exciting and have a thirst for life is what attracts vampires cus it helps them reignite their own love for life which may have dwindled after so many years of being immortal.

- Humans who are reckless with their own lives are a turn off. Vampires already have to experience losing many close ones due to immortality so I don't think they'd appreciate someone who disregards their life or the lives of others carelessly.

- Vampires are harder to categorise because they all come from different backgrounds and stuff but I think if a vampire liked a human most of them would have to know one for a while before bringing up anything serious. They understand the stakes (hah) of falling in love with humans and act accordingly.

🐺 Dog people. Werewolves like dog people. Sorry I know it's basic but I think werewolves are often simple creatures so what attracts them is relatively simple. Nothing wrong with that.

- They see a human walking their dog and they just go "I have a chance!!"

- They like humans who smell like their dog or have dog fur on their clothes, they think it's cute.

- They think it's so cute when humans baby talk dogs while giving them pets. It makes their own tails wag sometimes.

- Now that doesn't mean they like being treated like dogs cus they don't. They just think a dog person is a huge green flag in humans.

- Don't worry, this doesn't mean they hate cat people but they are more likely to flirt and initiate conversation with someone who has a dog or who smells like they own a dog.

[dogwithrabies]

【★】 gn reader but described as afab, kinda mean scara, reader is a masochist lol

【☆】 ignoring the fact that i disappeared for like 8 months, hi, new thingy (reup)

word count: 4.3k

There’s no coming back from those offices. Everyone knows that, it’s like an open secret between the ranks of the fatui.

One gets called in for a “little chat” and then just disappears, there are no deserters allowed in an organization like this. Too many secrets.

The lower ranking soldiers always gossip about whoever the next one is gonna be, it keeps everyone on edge, just one measly mistake in front of a general, or worse, a harbinger and it’s over. It doesn’t help that other privates will often turn on eachother, reporting their comrade’s mistakes to get on their supervisor’s good side, in a sense, the fatui has eyes everywhere.

Your days of walking on eggshells are long over, thank the Tstaritsa, but it doesn’t mean you’re completely safe either. Being a general yourself, you’ve been faced with many hard decisions, sometimes covering up the mistakes of a soldier, sending back touched up reports hoping no supervisor will notice any discrepancy.

“Your empathy will come back to bite you in the ass”.

It’s a sentence the Balladeer threw your way once, it wasn't advice out of the goodness of his (non-existent) heart. Matter of fact, he didn’t even spare you a glance before walking past you, on his way to scold another soldier. How stupid, he must've thought, sharing your already scarce meal with a tiny bird that sought refuge under the shadow of your feet.

But you just can’t help it. In your early days you could only pray someone spared you the same kindness you give out now.

But that was a long time ago. You went on many other expeditions in the Balladeer’s team, somehow always managing not to fess up and prove yourself worthy of your role. It was a noteworthy achievement, after all his bad temper was notorious to anyone who spent even a few minutes in his presence.

The Balladeer does not go out of his way to compliment anyone, flattery is not his style. Just the absence of any reprimand is more than enough to tell you you’re doing good.

However, that does not stop you from wasting time fantasizing about such scenarios.

“You’re doing good.” What a dream it would be to hear that. “You’re being good.”

But the image you have of him in your mind is a far-fetched, rose-tinted version of the one in front of you now. You’re not as stupid as to warp his essence into anything even remotely kind. You know of his temperament, sometimes you’d even go as far as to think he’s not even human.

During an expedition, he slapped a soldier once. It was late in the evening and some soldiers decided to let out some steam with a few drinks. It just so happened that one of them got a little too… feisty.

But the Balladeer did not let go of his face. He just kind of stared at the red mark his hand left, squishing the fat of his cheeks in some weird torturous ritual, moving the skin around to admire the shape of the coagulated blood under his skin. He was so close he could feel the shaky breaths of the poor guy fanning on his face.

He relented only once he was satisfied. He enjoys the fear in people’s faces. No, fear is just an expression, it’s the pure terror that spreads in someone’s whole body that excites him.

He can tell the exact moment when someone switches from being scared to dreading losing their life.

It’s something you’ve seen several times yourself, never hesitate, to end someone’s life. Hesitation makes you waver, staring at someone’s eyes makes you acknowledge that they’re scared, they’re human.

He never wavers. Hm. He’s either incredibly cruel… or just above your kind? You take a mental note of that.

The first thought excites you, that tiny familiar buzzing feeling running down your spine.

It’s so unfair.

No, that’s not right, you quickly shake that thought off. Who would ever dream of being at the receiving end of the Balladeer’s ire?

It’s not the first time you find yourself spiraling that same line of thought. But he’s just so pretty.

You suppose that in order to make it out alive of his squadron one needs to grow tough skin, tolerating his humiliation tactics and aggressions. You just never thought you’d develop a liking to that.

How the mighty have fallen. You used to be so respectable.

You can’t even begin to picture his disgusted expression if he found out that deep down, a part of you hoped he would lay his hand on you.

Or if he knew how many sleepless nights you spent rubbing your thighs together, trying to get rid of a heat that just wouldn’t go away.

Or, additionally, if he knew that the first thing you did in your new private (perks of being promoted) room was to disregard your clothes and immediately push your fingers in your aching needy cunt. Thinking of him.

How absolutely shameful. You wonder if your stay in the fatui awakened something in you. Or maybe you were always like this.

But you’re always so composed. And your fatui mask covers any blushing on your face;

No one would be able to detect your attraction to him based on your behavior.

After all, it was very common to hear creaking sounds at night. That’s just what happens when you force young adults in a shared room together. People just turn the other way. Ignore the sound and go to sleep.

You feel yourself getting warmer at the sight of him walking towards your squadron.

It’s another of those annoying training sessions, you don’t have to participate, just surveil the cadets. It doesn’t fall within your assignments, it’s your Lord Balladeer’s job, but he so kindly sacked you his responsibilities. After all, he’s above watching insignificant men stumble in knee high snow.

But you’re just so distracted.

He’s sitting on a chair with a tiny table in front of him, quickly skimming through huge piles of paper. The huge fur of his coat shields his face from your view (a shame, he looks so cute when concentrating), but he’s not covering anything else. His tiny shorts slightly hike up his legs as he shifts to put one leg over the other, revealing even more skin.

Just how is he not getting cold?

You huff, your breath crystalizing in front of you, forming a tiny mist as if proving your point.

It’s freezing. And he’s out there with his usual attire. Not that you’re complaining, you always had a thing for his legs. Always looking at the way they crease and shift on his thighs every time he crouches to look at something. You always watch him with such an intense gaze.

It’s not weird. It is your job to ensure his safety after all.

Not that he needs it. You’ve seen him in combat, not many enemies survive after the first shock of electro.

It’s scary. It’s exciting.

He also uses it to correct small mistakes. He’s shocked you once after you almost tripped while serving him tea.

It was tiny and barely audible but your finger spasmed in an uncomfortable position, and then it was over.

He let out a humorous hum at your shocked expression, then quickly dismissed you.

You spent the rest of the day thinking about that small encounter.

Thinking about all the other ways he could use his shocks on you. Maybe they could simulate the effects of a vibrator (just a slightly painful one). You’re not allowed to bring anything with you when you join the fatui. And using your hands or humping your pillow always leaves you yearning for more.

So lost in thought. You didn’t even notice the way he was staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Not anger, not disappointment, something more akin to… disbelief.

He knew you would cover up your underling’s mistakes sometimes, he couldn’t be bothered to call you out on that. But to let so many incompetent cadets trip on the same wall, face-planting on the snow and mud without even taking note of that? Right in front of him?

Were you hoping he was too busy with his papers to not notice that, or are not even paying attention?

Your tendency to sometimes space out is something he was very aware of. But you never actively slacked off on your tasks. This is new, not unexpected but new. You were bound to disappoint him, after all, it is in your nature as a human. He needs to stop this before it becomes a habit and gets in the way of his work.

He quickly calls some other general to take your place. You barely register when he calls your name. His voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up in shivers.

“Come.” He firmly says before walking off the training grounds.

You hesitate for a second, your eyes focusing back on the view in front of you. Your lord wants a word with you? Just how deep in thought were you to not even notice him staring holes in your back? It can’t be any good.

You follow after him, catching up with him and watching the back of his coat sway with each step.

The inside of the palace is just as cold as the outside. The only relief a fatuus gets is the mercy of being shielded from the icy winds. It’s only when you set foot inside his office that you finally let yourself breathe.

The whole walk to his private office is full of agonizing spiraling thoughts. Surely this isn’t one of those “little chats”, right? The soldiers guarding the door don’t even spare the two of you a glance, their masks covering your expression, but you’re sure they pity you in some way.

The Balladeer is not known for his kindness, but even through his hate filled vision of humanity, he knows the intrinsic need of every being for validation. Not that he’s going to give them any, he has no interest in building any amicable relations in this organization, lest it serves him to reach his goals the future. But it would also be very troublesome to replace even more of his subordinates. Were he in an altered mood he would’ve just electrocuted on the spot.

Recognizing when one of his useless soldiers actually has a shred of potential is not something he’s very keen on doing, but the alternative is to put up with more incompetent fools, and that’s not on his agenda.

He sits on his chair, moving papers around on his desk. You watch him as he smacks his lips and lets out a silent huff as he finally rearranges the papers to his liking.

You’re shacking, he attributes it to the cold. Humans have always been so much weaker and more vulnerable than him. His skin is cold, glacially cold, but it’s not a feeling he registers.

Even his coat is just for show.

Your cheeks are red, but it’s (at least partially) not from the cold. Now that his coat is off you get a full view of his face. His dashing red liner perfectly contours his eyes, giving them a sharp intense look. He begins talking to you, his voice is calm and smooth, at least he’s not mad at you.

It’s about your zoning off.

It’s not something you do on purpose, but it’s just so hard to focus when you're so damn horny.

Frankly, you’re more surprised he didn’t just slap you on the spot, not that you would’ve minded. Maybe your Lord is showing you his mercy? The thought of him showing you any form of kindness makes heat slowly creep up your face. The cold slowly leaves your body as warmth replaces it, the overwhelming feeling leaving you to fiddle with the hem of your clothing.

“My deepest apologies, it will never happen again, my Lord”.

This is to be expected, addressing him with the right honorifics and apologizing is the correct (and preferred) outcome. He blinks slowly, at least he saved himself a migraine.

What he doesn’t expect is to not see you when he opens his eyes. He didn’t dismiss you. He gets up from his chair but stops when he finally spots you, on your knees with your forehead touching the ground.

“I want to make it up to you, my Lord”, you say, still not moving from your position.

This. This he likes. Usually, he’s the one forcing his subordinates to kneel in front of him, and not in a kind way either. Pressing their face on whatever unfortunate surface they were standing on, purposefully applying more pressure than needed, hoping his boots would leave a heavy mark on their face. Sometimes they would do it out of their own volition, but it doesn’t stem from an urgent need to show him their worship, it was out of fear.

“Hm.” He makes his way to the couch on the side of his desk and sits crosslegged. “Come here,”

But he interrupts you before you can push yourself on your feet- “No, stay like that.

It takes you a second to process that he wants you to crawl your way to him. You awkwardly move your body, trying not to trip on your own coat before settling in front of him.

He puts his hand on your cheeks, lightly squishing them before raising his fingers and taking your mask off, leaving your expression bare before him. It’s no different than any other fatuus mask, but he slowly examines it regardless.

“Go on, show me your devotion, (Name),” he says, shifting so his knees are on each side

Just the fact that he knows your name makes you shudder. You’re not sure of what exactly he wants from you, but you’re already in a bizarre enough situation, so you decide to follow your instincts.

You slowly wrap your hand around his boot, raising it until you can comfortably lower your face, letting your lips come in contact with it. His eyes widen for a moment, as you continue rubbing your face on the side of his boot. Their surface is clean, that bit of snow remaining gets smothered on your skin, melting away.

“Hah”, moving to other boot, you repeat the same motion “At least you know where you belong.”

His voice has a layer of malice to it, like he’s elated by this outcome. Your hand comes in contact with his skin, it’s so cold, like touching freshly piled snow. Opting to rub his legs in a meek attempt at warming them up, you press your lips to his knee, savoring the moment.

Any other person would feel humiliated in this situation, worshipping at your Lord’s feet, but this, it’s like a dream come true to you. Being so close to the object of your attraction makes your head go spinning. It feels unreal just being able to lay your hands on them. You shouldn't press your luck. but it’s so tempting to just reach over and grope him all over.

He would probably kill you.

Maybe.

Perhaps if you’re slow and methodical about it you can manage to get a tiny bit closer to his thighs. Masking your need as devotion.

You place your lips just above his knee, your hands moving under it, rubbing at the soft skin. He’s also curious about how far you’re willing to push yourself. He’s no fool, he knows you’re scared of crossing a line you’re not even aware of. He could be kind and point you in the right direction, but watching you struggle to restrain yourself while mindlessly mouthing at his skin is a show too good to pass on.

Eventually, he widens his legs, just enough to allow you to sit deeper in between them. This new position allows you to reach further. It stuns you for a moment, hesitantly putting your hands on his thighs, looking at his face for any sign of vexation. When you don’t find any, you deem it safe to push further, lowering your face to latch your mouth on the exposed skin. Leaving a slightly wet trail everywhere you go.

He’s let you get this far, and if the way he moves his legs giving you even more access is any indicator of his enjoyment, it encourages you to try your luck.

Your hand slips under his shorts, slowly pushing them up. You lock eyes, and for a second you fear you’ve overstayed your welcome, luckily that’s not the case.

“No markings.” His hand now rests on your head, slowly moving your hair out of your face.

Would it even be possible to leave marks? His skin shows no imperfections and it’s so smooth it makes you want to lose yourself in it. But it also feels… tougher? While rubbing it with your hands, it felt robust, like if you sunk your teeth in it it wouldn’t break even the upper layer. Maybe just leave a mark. A sign you were there.

But now is not the time to get lost in your imagination. Not when the real deal is in front of you, inviting you to have your fill.

You pinch lightly at the flesh of his inner thighs, you’re so close to his crotch, if it wasn’t for that piece of armor around his waist, the side of your face would be squished in it.

“Enough teasing,” He says, and almost as if he was reading your mind, he rids himself of the armor and other superfluous frills attached to it. “Get to work.”

Now that nothing is blocking your view, you can see the bulge that formed under all those clothing.

The sight makes you drool, as you immediately reach a hand to slightly squeeze it. Your eagerness amuses him, but he’s grown impatient. His grip on your hair is much tighter now, dragging your face until it’s directly flush with his clothed erection.

“You better not waste my time” His tone is harsh and firm, and it just makes the heat between your legs worse. When his grip relents, you push yourself away just enough to pull down his shorts. He shifts his hips up, aiding you in sliding them off.

Now that his erection is free, it bounces slightly as your breath fans over it. The tip is a cute shade of pink, beads of precum leaking from it. But he doesn’t give you the time to admire it any longer, grabbing himself from the hilt to slap it on your face a few times. The sound of skin slapping against skin is the only audible thing in the room. It makes your head spin. To think you’d have the privilege of being the one he unleashes his sexual frustrations on.

He pulls your head up, tapping his dick on your lips. You open your mouth, letting him rest his tip on it, and your lips wrap around him, tasting him.

Were it any other situation, you’d take your time in savoring this moment, slowly sliding your tongue around his girth, letting his desire grow. But this is different, like if your performance doesn’t satisfy him he might just kill you on the spot.

And the thought shouldn’t turn you on, for a second the thought of biting him just to piss him off crosses your mind. What a way to go that would be.

Alas, not wanting to keep him waiting, you make an effort to take as much of him as you can, until your nose is flush with his pelvis.

He lets out a satisfied sigh and that slight expression of annoyance leaves his face, your mouth is warm and wet, and the movement of you swallowing around sends shivers down his spine.

“That’s it,” his grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place. “That’s good.”

The mere hint of him praising you makes you shudder, you’re so soaked your underwear is sticking to your cunt. You want to thank him, but speaking with him in your mouth proves to be difficult, it comes out as an unintelligible hum, whether he understood you or not he seems to appreciate the vibration of your throat.

He pulls your head back, urging you to start moving, seemingly done with just enjoying your throat. You drag yourself back until his tip is once again resting on your tongue, and then push it all back in, as far as you can go. You manage to work up a steady rhythm, one that leaves small moans escape from his mouth. They’re breathy, but every time you manage to wring one out of him is like a win to you. Each little noise of his spurs you on further. One of your hands reaches up to grab the rest of him, moving up and down in synch with your mouth, while the other reaches down and inside your uniform pants, rubbing at your clit.

“F-fuck… You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Your eyes trail up to look at his, his flushed face looking back at you.

“Me using your mouth turns you on.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, and to put more emphasis on it he shifts his legs until one of them is resting between your own.

“You’re doing a good job… I guess I should reward you.”

He shoves his boot up, as if kicking your hand away. He wants you to…. oh.

Complacently, you shift lower until your full weight is resting on him, the absence of your fingers replaced by him. It takes you a moment to adjust to this new position, but once you get back on your rhythm you resume your ministrations on him, while slowly grinding on his leg.

His other hand reaches your head, threading your hair before settling a firm grip next to the other, you’re given a moment of reprise before he shoves his hips forward, roughly, holding you in place.

His thrusts are fast and merciless, each one reaching deeper inside your throat. You close your eyes, trying not to gag when he reaches a bit too deep, not that you have the ability to complain, all you can do is try your best to accommodate him as he uses you to get off. Your hips start moving a bit faster too, the thought of you being a mere means to an end in his eyes is turning you on more than you’d like. And he notices.

His cock throbs in your mouth and he lets out a breathy laugh, “So pathetic. Humping my leg like a dog in heat.”

You open your eyes for a moment to look at him. He’s grinning at you, looking at you as if you were something truly beneath him, pushing his hips in rougher as if to accentuate that. The sounds of saliva and cum smacking around your lips are so obscenely loud, you’d have half a mind to almost be embarrassed by it, but there’s a knot tightening in your stomach, and it grows tighter and tighter with every thrust of your hips. It doesn’t help that with every thrust his leg moves slightly up against you, coaxing you into an orgasm.

Your hands clamp on his thighs, hard, the shuddering of your hips slowing down as you unwind on him. You let out withered moans, barely audible but still sending pleasurable vibrations up his length.

You’re straight up drooling around him at this point, saliva sliding down your chin and on his balls. He’s sounding a bit breathier above you, and you can feel him twitching with more vigor inside your throat. Your body limp on his makes it easier to thrust deeper.

He pushes in as far as your throat allows him and stills there. You’re prepared to feel him coming down your throat, but he pushes your head back suddenly, so far back his dick slides off your mouth with a wet pop.

He’s stroking himself above you for a moment until there’s a brief pause, interrupted by a breathless curse as he finishes on the top of your lips, riddling your face with his come.

He sags back down on the couch, basking in the aftermath of his orgasm with you still in between his legs. His chest heaves up and down, catching his breath, but his moment of peace is short lived as he speaks up.

“I guess you did prove yourself,” he says as he slowly tucks himself back in his pants. You squint up at him. You don’t move from your position, still sitting even as he removes his leg from underneath you, breathing slowly and deeply now that his dick occupying your airways.

When you come to your senses you start searching around with your gaze for a tissue or even some rag to clean yourself up, you’re truly in an unpresentable state. Your hair is messily pulled out of its ties, strands flying everywhere and some glued to your face. Your face… Awkwardly, you wipe your lips, trying to at least dry up the saliva but there’s nothing you can do to hide the very evident cum sticking on… everything else. You can’t just walk out in this state- you do have a reputation to uphold. And rumors travel fast- by the end of the day every cadet would know of the shameful state you left the Balladeer’s office in, and it wouldn’t take long for them to put two and two together-

“Oh. This belongs to you.” He says holding your mask, seemingly noticing your inner monologue. “You’ll be needing it out there.” He adds as he puts it back on your face, squishing that bit of cum on your cheeks.

“You can go now. I’ll call you again when I need your… assistance.”

[busbybub]

261 jjk no one is born blessed everyone is born cursed and will die cursed that’s the whole storyline baby girls I hate to say it.

A story about powerful men using children soldiers to fight a war they don’t fully understand. Children losing their humanity, dying a bit more everyday until their demise. Not even a cog in a machine just a mere tool, used and easily disregarded once they no longer serve a purpose. Characters that not only didn’t get a chance to live but also don’t even get to die.

Gojo a character created to suffer, a character born with the sin of changing the world for the worst. A character forced to sacrifice everything, to never be given an ounce of humanity. A character that lived purely out of guilt for the suffering his existence caused and did everything in his power to make the world a better place for the next generation.

Geto realising someone has to be the villain, someone who did everything right, everything they were told to do and achieved nothing. I mean he saw Riko choose herself and wish to live get shot right in front of him. A character who sacrificed everything and it still wasn’t enough. Gojo only fully comprehending this after his demise. The anger, the guilt, the unimaginable amount of suffering.

Megumi who never got the chance to reach his potential, who just wanted to keep the ones he loved safe. But instead had to watch his potential be used to destroy everything he held close to him.

Yuta a teenager having to mourn his teacher and himself at the same time. A character that knew he was becoming a monster and wanted to die, forced to live and sacrifice his humanity to be a monster. To be a weapon.

Yuji born to protect forced to be protected. Born to sacrifice himself for others forced to watch others sacrifice themselves. He’s not sidelined he’s simply not being allowed to become the monster he was born to be.

Nobara desperate for freedom and connection flying to close to the sun. Just wanted a chance, a space to belong.

Maki desperately trying to make something of her self leaving her toxic family behind sacrificing her relationship with her sister. Then having to watch her sister sacrifice herself for maki to reach her potential.

Nanami who could never escape his guilt and couldn’t find a purpose away from his trauma. Accepting the responsibility to protect the next generation from suffering his friends fate ultimately accepting that fate for himself.

Not a single happy character huh. The red string of fate is suffocating. Pureeee evil gege. What have you been through?

[limon-rat]

I'm doing a lot of thinking tonight, and one of the things I'm thinking about is the names of the Hatchetfield characters.

A lot of them have meaning, obviously, that's how characters work, but they're all so simple, mostly their first names.

(i talk a lot so more under the cut)

Paul, Emma, Alice, Ted, Peter, Tom, Becky, Bill, Gerald- So few characters have names that you wouldn't find out in the wild. They have people names. Names that regular ass humans have. Names that any dude you wave to on the street might have. Names that the lady you pass in the grocery store might have.

Some of the few characters that have unique/even remotely different names are Lex, which is a nickname for Alexandra, Ziggs/Ziggy, who's nonbinary and chose their name, Deb, which is (probably) short for Deborah, and Miss Holloway, who has to use a different alias every decade or so and can never give out her real name, which might just be a regular person name.

And all these normal people names makes it hit harder. This is just some dude that happens to live at hell's gate. Even people who now hold great importance and can't escape the narrative have normal people names. General John Macnamera's name is John, Hannah is Hannah, Ted's full name is Theodore and that's still a regular ass name.

None of these people were meant to be tormented by Eldritch gods. They weren't supposed to be important. They're just people and they're stuck in the most cursed town in existence and it's not their fault that the narrative chose them.

[yellowocaballero]

Continuing the JJK posting: Gojo is such a mystifying character.

Action show where swinging out the gate you introduce a character who is so incredibly powerful you then have to, before every fight, establish why Gojo can't just show up and fix the problem in seconds. His existence weakens the stakes of everything. The rest of the show you are backflipping ridding yourself of him. He jobs two major bad guys off the gate and every subsequent extensive fight with them feels like cleaning up his leftovers. Put him in a box, he's ruining the game balance. So absolutely broken. As a writer it makes your job so difficult, but it's also the entire point of him. "Hey I want to write the single most badass character of all time who can do the most insane shit but I will also engage with that", rock on king.

I think he's most interesting when understood as somebody who is fundamentally alien and removed from ordinary human thought processes. In his world there is absolutely nothing he cannot do, and the thought 'maybe I can't do something' just doesn't occur to him. He is capable of doing whatever he wants and of killing anybody who tries to stop him from doing what he wants. If he is not doing something, it is because he does not want to do it. If he wants to do something (kill all of his superiors) and he's not doing it, it's because he doesn't think it's the most effective route towards what he has decided to do. I think this informs the majority of his actions (and, importantly, what he doesn't do)(murder). I think he's reasoned out that you should have a general reason to do things, and it feels like sheer luck that he places value and meaning in human life, and as such you shouldn't kill them without a strong reason. Watching the flashback arc, if I hadn't seen a) JJK and b) Naruto and you asked me which shitty teen became a law abiding school teacher and which became a mass murderer I would have guessed the wrong ones.

Anyway, the way I like to think of him, he's a raging narcissist with a god complex to match. Horrifically, he's actually a good teacher, but he is also a teacher as an ego/'raising my child army' thing. He would be the kind of mother who is a good mother but lowkey had kids also as an ego/unconditional love/lots of attention/'surely my child will worship me' thing. Gets randomly into new hobbies, obsesses over them, gorges himself on the novelty factor, before dropping them in a week once he gets too good at them. Rinse and repeat. The only hobby that does not eventually grow boring is annoying people, so it's his only hobby. Geto told him age 15 that he'll never have any friends if he keeps on casually reminding people that they live on his sufferance, so he developed another back-up hobby more conducive for friendship of helping people forget that they live on his sufferance. This has convinced him that he's a god of subterfuge, intrigue, and trickery. Does eat women out, but is convinced that this makes him God's gift to women, and is actually pretty terrible in bed because his partner's desires never even occur to him. Is convinced he's as good at sex as he is everything else. Sex is actually the one thing he's bad at, but he's not ready to hear that.

In S1 he overall left me with the general impression that his entire idea of how high school worked was sourced from anime, and as such decided that being a teacher involved nothing but field trips, sports games, beach episodes, sports festivals, etc. Did not know how the classroom component worked so he skips it. Jossed, but also left me convinced that it would be very funny if he was an immortal 150-whatever years old and had founded the high school himself out of, you guessed it, an ego thing, and never once properly learned how high schools worked and just arbitrarily made his own aging students the new principals so he could continue engaging in training the kids who are too Misfit (TM) to get apprenticeships and living his fun slice of life anime life and raising a child army of kids who will worship him any day now. Annnyyyy day now. Any day now.

[michealdraoidh]

Mighty Cernunnos, Horned One of the Wild Woods,

Bearer of the primal forces that stir within,

I call upon thee with reverence and awe,

To stand with me in this sacred moment.

Oh great and ancient god of the forests,

Guardian of the untamed realms,

Your presence fills the air with power,

As the winds whisper your name through the trees.

Cernunnos, lord of beasts and master of the hunt,

Teach me the ways of the wild,

Guide me through the shadows of the forest,

And reveal to me the mysteries of the earth.

In your antlered form, you embody the cycles of life,

The eternal dance of birth, death, and rebirth,

Grant me the wisdom to embrace these cycles,

And to walk the path of balance and harmony.

As I stand before you, I offer my gratitude,

For the abundance of the natural world,

And the blessings you bestow upon those who honor you,

Hail Cernunnos, god of the greenwood!

With each step I take in the wild places,

I carry your spirit within me,

And strive to live in harmony with the land,

So mote it be.

Embracing the Metaphor of Cernunnos: Practical Applications for Modern Celtic Pagans

In the Celtic pagan tradition, Cernunnos, the Horned God of the Wild, serves as a powerful metaphor for the forces of nature, the cycles of life, and the mysteries of the divine. As modern Celtic Pagans, we can draw inspiration from the symbolism of Cernunnos and apply it to our daily lives in meaningful and practical ways.

At its core, Cernunnos represents the primal forces of the natural world—the untamed wilderness, the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth, and the interconnectedness of all living beings. By embracing the metaphor of Cernunnos, we can cultivate a deeper connection to the earth and its inhabitants, and gain insight into the mysteries of existence.

One practical application of the metaphor of Cernunnos is to honor and respect the natural world as sacred. Just as Cernunnos is the guardian of the wild places, we can strive to be stewards of the earth, protecting and preserving its beauty and diversity for future generations. This may involve engaging in environmental activism, participating in conservation efforts, or simply spending time in nature and appreciating its wonders.

Furthermore, Cernunnos teaches us the importance of embracing the cycles of life and death. Just as the Horned God embodies the eternal dance of birth, death, and rebirth, so too are we called to accept the inevitability of change and transformation in our own lives. By embracing the metaphor of Cernunnos, we can learn to let go of attachments to the past, embrace the present moment, and welcome the future with open arms.

Another practical application of the metaphor of Cernunnos is to cultivate a deeper connection to our own inner wildness and instincts. Like the Horned God, we all possess primal energies and instincts that are a natural part of our being. By tapping into these energies and embracing our true selves, we can unleash our creative potential, find strength in times of adversity, and live authentically in accordance with our deepest desires.

Additionally, Cernunnos serves as a symbol of fertility and abundance, reminding us of the importance of nurturing our relationships and communities. As modern Celtic Pagans, we can honor the Horned God by fostering a sense of kinship and solidarity with those around us, supporting one another in times of need, and celebrating the richness and diversity of human experience.

The metaphor of Cernunnos offers modern Celtic Pagans a powerful framework for understanding the natural world, embracing the cycles of life and death, and cultivating a deeper connection to our own inner wildness and instincts. By drawing inspiration from the symbolism of the Horned God, we can find meaning and purpose in our lives, and strive to live in harmony with the earth and its inhabitants. So let us embrace the metaphor of Cernunnos, and walk the path of the wild with courage, wisdom, and reverence.

[soldier-poet-king]

'I am not extremly emotionally needy and have deep seated fears about being left behind' I say to myself as I try not to cry at work because my friend is in town but super busy with family stuff so I'll only get to see her for a handful of hours at at event I don't even want to go to

[carionto]

The duality of Man, or triality? quadrality?

Alien to Human about New Human: Correct me if I'm wrong, but they appear abnormally large for your species?

H: Yea, he's a biggun alright, even without the EV suit I'd say... 7'3'', 310 pounds, bet he power lifts.

A: Umm... not to be rude, but, uhh... he seems, well... how should I put this...

H: Intimidating? Terrifying? Evil? Yea, if this station didn't have high screening standards I'd be totally pissing myself if he started walking towards me. The mohawk and eye tat totally make me believe he could snap me in two with a single glare.

A: I feel ashamed that my instincts are telling me to flee. I wish nature were easier to change.

H (shouting at NH): Hey buddy! Could you come over here for a minute please? You look awesome by the way!

A (whispering nervously): what are you doing?!?

H: Gotta overcome those fears somehow, I believe the best way is a direct confrontation.

NH approaches, somewhat slowly, looking around at all the other aliens in the station that are chatting, waiting around, or doing some work. He finally approaches A and H, and in a very deep and husky voice says: Um, hi, hello. T-thanks for the compliment, I, uh, was a little worried I would stand out too much here.

H: Oh you totally do, my friend over here is practically about to pass out from how much like a gothic viking of death metal you look.

NH: Oh no, I'm so sorry, I-I just grew up in Sweden-Delta and both my parents were huge into classic local music, so I just, uh... it's complicated. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare anyone.

H: Hey, relax pal, we're all good people here. Anyway, what you here to do? I'm planning on starting a bakery, still testing out what kind of flour most species here can actually stomach. My friend here is on the team working on Moon theft preventative measures.

NH: Oh, that's cool. I'm here as an exchange student with the department of applied astrophysics. If all goes well, I can finish my Bachelors degree remotely and stay here as an intern with the head researcher.

H: Oooh, that's cool. (so cool yea that you're apparently half my age but oh well guess I'm a big fat time waster like my father before me and oh god change the subject before I get depressed in front of strangers) That's a real big bag you got there, carrying some super secret science things, eh?

NH: Oh, that... uhh... guess it can't hurt to tell, security vetted it already anyway.

NH proceeds to unzip the bag and hold up a large white piece of clothing with light blue rings and accents, alongside a strange white cap with what looked like small fins, and a curious little backpack.

NH: It's uhh... um... my... Ika... musume... cosplay.... (oh gods I can't believe I said it out loud again)

After a moment of awkward silence, NH slowly puts on the backpack and presses a button on it's strap, and suddenly numerous light blue colored tentacle-like appendages sprout out from the backpack and move in line with NH's movements.

NH: I, uh..., got my engineering friend to make them articulate and interface with my contacts. I can make them do all sorts of things, like make various shapes and animals with them, though works best as a shadow theater.

H:...

NH:...

A now frozen out of confusion than fear:...

H: That's so

NH: (oh I know it's so lame, but I love that show)-

H: COOL! I don't know what a ika musume is, but those things look amazing. You said articulate? How precise can they be? I'd love to have something like that instead of my useless assistant. Poor lad can't make a piece of toast if his life depended on it...

NH: Y-you like it?

H: I LOVE those things. My daughter does cosplay too sometimes, but she makes her Dreadnought suits herself from scraps. One time the military came to our house and installed a limiter on the gauss cannon she found in a crash site, said it would otherwise start to generate small doses of radiation if used too frequently. But she replaced it with a handmade rail gun before the next convention. Do you go to those? Did you see a 7 meter tall hulking metal monstrosity with a bunch of candles all over? That was her.

NH: Oh, I think I've seen video of that, but no, not in person, I go to smaller events. I don't really like big crowds.

H: Oh yea, I get ya, you do seem a bit on the shy side now that we've been talking for a bit. Hey, no worries, like I said, we're all good people here.

NH: T-thanks, but I think I should be going now, the teacher is calling me over.

H: Oh yea, go ahead, didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Have a fun stay and I'm sure you'll ace that paper or theory? Or whatever astrophysicists do, you seem like a solid kid.

NH: Oh, uh, thanks. Good luck with your bakery. And you with stopping those weird people from stealing more moons. Bye.

H: Bye bye, come visit, don't be a stranger now, I'm set up just a short bit from the main lift on floor 14.

NH: R-right, I'll, uh, be sure to stop by soon.

A is finally able to process what they just heard and says: What was all that just now?

H: What? Just a friendly chat with what is apparently basically a kid. Man, this kid's got so much going on, while I'm almost 50 and I have an oven. Life, man, it can go in so many ways. Anyway, let's go grab a drink, I'm parched.

[aioliravioli-69]

This one was a long time coming (a.k.a. since I found out about 'Duolingo on ice') so I started looking into it and I found this!

This pose

This pose specifically was MADE for Buddy!!

I couldn't resist

Buddy being a dramatic bastard

[sciderman]

I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with so much Iranian hate and drama <:[

oh anon. hate to break it to you (a lot of people make this mistake) but iran and iraq are two entirely separate nations.

and also i think reducing it to the words "hate and drama" kind of doesn't cover it, anon.

[f1-stuff]

Carlos fans in my inbox: fake fan. we don't want you.

Charles fans in my inbox: just admit you hate charles. don't know why you pretend to like him.

Me, a fan of both Charles & Carlos, trying to have fun while watching a sport that has politics and unfairness and nepotism and money entrenched in its legacy: anyway...isn't it crazy how those two literally fcked on live television yesterday? damn...

[orcelito]

Like OK so I've been reading a fic with trans wolfwood in it that is so. HONEST. About how it affected him and still affects him. In a way that's very much not an average cis writer portrayal of a trans character.

Like. Either this writer is trans or did plenty of research, but it just feels REAL to me. And it has me thinking about my own way of writing trans Wolfwood.

I'm not there yet. But I've been thinking about it. The ways that what the EOM did fucked him up... but it also acted as HRT that affirmed his gender. So what do you do when you're in a body you don't recognize, but looks much more like a man than ever before? There's some gender euphoria in a way, but dysphoria at the same time bc you didn't grow into this. You didn't watch yourself transition. Suddenly you just Were this, and it's not you, but also it's nice to finally be seen as a man, but it also feels wrong to feel grateful for any part of what they did to you...

On and on and on

You see? This is what I want to think about with him. This is why trans Wolfwood is so compelling to me. It's just so Complicated, he'd have such Complicated feelings about his body and the way he lives with it. He learns this new body, it starts to feel more like his, but he also mourns the fact that he didn't get to watch it grow into this like he should've.

That kind of thing.

[themthistles]

i think that while micro labels can seem useful and affirming ultimately they're isolating and kind of an obstacle to your understanding of self. that's because you can never find a word specific enough. there will never be a label or two labels or even ten, twenty of them to perfectly capture and describe all of your thoughts, feelings, experiences, preferences, needs, interests, identities, etc. because you learn more and more about yourself every day and then you change and your wants and needs change with you. having to hop between labels, fearing that you don't 'fit' into a label anymore (both in your own and others eyes), worrying how soon your current label will wear out, questioning if you'll ever fully fit a single one. all that causes a lot of uncertainty and anxiety which could be avoided by just picking a more general thing and molding it according to what it means to YOU. because words will always mean different things to different people, you will never be understood immediately and maybe never completely by anyone but yourself and that's fine

[sonknuxadow]

i love sonic character designs so so much i think that character design is one of the things the sonic franchise is best at and a big part of its appeal but also. would it kill them to have more body type diversity

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

FINALLY somebody addressing why I am sad about Rasputin’s characterization this season. Let grandpa get ANGRY let him get PISSED. Let him drop warsats on people again

The three pillars of the Warmind Rasputin in the Destiny narrative are mystery, tragedy, and power. Those are the story roles he fulfills and the themes and settings he provides. The Warmind DLC emphasized mystery and power. Season of the Worthy emphasized power and tragedy. Season of the Seraph so far has leaned hard on the tragedy with a side of mystery. That’s fine. It’s better than fine; I’m living for a Rasputin season that finally hammers home to the general player population how emotional his entire story is (and not just the parts with the Iron Lords) if only because I’m no longer the crazy person sitting in the corner yelling this computer is extremely sad actually here’s a 12-page lore essay based on deep analysis and textual inference. We’ve never encountered Rasputin in such a weak state before and that makes it the best time for a vulnerable narrative. So this season has gone for tragedy with backup mystery. That’s fine.

But let us not neglect his third role.

Why is it so important for Rasputin to demonstrate his power? Or, put another way, why is it so satisfying when he does? When Red shot down the Almighty, regardless of whether you liked the season or even the event leading up to it, when the Almighty shattered and that shockwave cracked across the Tower I bet you felt something. We’ve seen display after display of might from a range of characters, yet nothing - maybe this is a function of who I hang out with, but - nothing evokes as visceral a response from players as when the Warmind acts. Why?

First off I think a lot of people enjoy the narrative of the sleeping giant, the dormant volcano rumbling to life. Remember when the ents go to war in The Two Towers? It’s a real thrill to watch something vast stir itself to war on our behalf, and I am one thousand percent here for that exact trope. Second, Rasputin has a clear and easy-to-sympathize-with motive for some righteous revenge. Third, he has every right to and absolutely should get very, very angry and boy is it cathartic to watch someone vent that kind of fury against the status quo. Fourth, sometimes it’s just fun to watch big space explosions. But after giving it a lot of thought I think there’s another key aspect: because Rasputin is our home team.

Rasputin represents humanity, far more than Guardians do. In the Destiny universe Rasputin embodies the apex of human technology, engineering, creativity, power - human, not Guardian. So we all have a little bit of an affinity for the Warmind, not us as Guardians but us, the players, as human beings, because he is humanity’s representative at the table of Destiny powers. The weapons Rasputin wields are weapons we recognize as our own. The technology he builds evokes real concrete tech we use. He quotes books we’ve read, he plays music we listen to, he cites our history. He’s the home team, and we are all, whether we know it or not, way down deep we are all cheering for him just a little bit, because he represents the real world we live in pitting itself against the greatest threats fantasy and scifi can conjure up. Nobody gave him Light or picked him out as the special Chosen One. All his strength is our strength. When he exercises that power, we see our own civilization sticking up for itself against the unknown. He is, in all goddamn seriousness, Flag Admiral Stabby.

So I guess I’m wrong about what I said at the beginning. There are four aspects, not three, to Rasputin’s role in Destiny: mystery, tragedy, power, and humanity. He is the representative of what the human race can build and do. So let him wake up and demonstrate that maybe humans came late to the table but we sure didn’t waste any time. Let him wake up and remind everyone that humanity’s fate won’t just decided by the immortal god-children who terrorized them for centuries in concert with alien factions with superior technology and much longer histories. Humans can do incredible things when they put their minds to it and they don’t need a paracausal permission slip to try. Let Rasputin show the solar system the creativity, tenacity, and stubborn defiance we like to imagine as our species’ defining traits. Let him bring a gun to a wizard fight. And let him win.