#cursed nerd

[calateralrobot]

Death Paintings, Cursed Wombs, and the Recyclable Soul: A Deep Dive into Reincarnation and Jujutsu Biology

(AKA: Your soul has a save file, and cursed objects know how to reload it)

Okay, hold onto your collective soul cores, nerds.

Because I’ve just gone down a rabbit hole of cursed anatomy, forbidden sorcerer experiments, and how reincarnation is real and weaponized.

This is gonna be looooonnnnggggg

WHAT ARE THE CURSED WOMB: DEATH PAINTINGS?

They’re the preserved fetuses of half-human, half-cursed spirit hybrids, created by the sorcerer Noritoshi Kamo (the worst guy) over a hundred years ago.

Nine of them exist.

Three have been incarnated: Choso, Kechizu, and Eso.

They’re real. They’re sentient. They have cursed techniques.

And somehow, they retained not only life, but memory, personality, and sorcery—after over a century of preservation in jars.

Let that sink in.

But it’s not mystical—it’s biological.

These fetuses weren’t reborn by fate.

They were manually implanted into human hosts and given the right conditions to reawaken their souls and take over.

These are not new lives.

They are old lives rebooted.

SOUL IMPRINTING THEORY (Expanded):

Building off my last post about cursed object implantation—

The Death Paintings prove that sorcerer souls can persist physically, embedded in cursed wombs or vessels.

Their techniques, emotions, and identities remain intact—not metaphors. Actual code stored in the soul and reinstalled in the body later.

It’s like a soul with hardware backups.

CURSED WOMBS: WHAT ARE THEY?

In general cursed lore, cursed wombs are embryonic curse forms. They’re unstable but powerful—often used to slow cook curses development so they’re very strong or house experimental spirits.

Eventually they’ll be born or shed the shell of their curse womb to be fully born. This process can be accelerated through the consumption of people, negative energy, and potentially experience.(Like with Patty developing!)

In short: cursed wombs are cursed USB drives, and souls are the data.

THEORIES, THEORIES, THEORIES:

1. Soul Preservation Isn’t Magical—It’s Structural.

If a body (or object) is constructed just right, it can preserve a soul’s “pattern” for generations.

This means techniques, memories, and even attachments can survive long-term death.

2. Reincarnation Requires a Vessel, Not a Will.

Souls don’t need consent to come back. They just need the right plug.

This could be used to bring back ancient sorcerers—or forcibly overwrite someone.

3. Curse Wombs Could Be Used to Create Technique Hybrids.

If multiple soul fragments are embedded in one womb… would the result be a multi-technique entity?

Could a sorcerer combine techniques via engineered wombs?

4. The Death Paintings are Living Proof of Soul Stability in Curse Hybrids.

They bleed, cry, remember, and have family within each other. They’re related by curse, by blood, by choice.

They’re also visible to the average normie.

How they reproduce might be different from how curses are born. They might do it the human method, or-

What if they create curse wombs and the chosen parents pump cursed energy into the curse womb?

5. Curse and Human Souls

Human souls are made of positive energy.

Curse souls are made of negative energy.

Curses seek to eat humans and such because they lack positive energy and it’s how they can safely gain it!(unknown other methods might exist?)

HORRIFIC ETHICAL QUAGMIRE:

- Is a reincarnated soul the same person?

- what happens to the original host’s soul?

- Could this be done against someone’s will? (Spoiler: yes.)

- if we can build souls, can we delete them?

- If curses had genitals could a human reproduce with one?

— L

(Cannot stop thinking about cursed fetuses in jars.)

[pigeon-princess]

Anya has been an incredible new edition to the strahd party dynamic and I think we're reaching peak levels of chaos

[scarlettaagni]

assignment failed successfully

[extraterrestrial-artist]

this is just a sketch i wanted to see if i could "stylize" otacon a bit

[littleyellowtangerine]

It's just funny to me that Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are exactly each others types.

Like Eddie liked preppy/cheerleader Chrissy while Steve is the king of preppy and jocks.

And Steve liked journalist/straight A Nancy and band member Robin that can be considered nerds while Eddie is the king of nerds and geeks.

[rocketbirdie]

🎵bow wow wow, bow wow wow, he's a good boy who never stops~🎵

[insanity6666]

Molten Hearts 1.5

An interlude before we get to the Big Guy himself.

After reaching your quarters to hide and process, a friend comes to your unexpected aid in an unexpected way.

Part 1

(Pardon if the link to the first one doesn't work I am still new to editing posts and the like)

Warnings, if any: There is alcohol, but they only get mildly drunk/buzzed.

You blinked up at the ceiling, as you had for the past hour, clutching your pillow, as you lay sprawled haphazardly upon your bed. You had stopped crying thirty minutes ago, and had gotten over the manic giggle fit around ten minutes back as the ridiculousness of the situation finally hit you.

You were proposed to.

By accident.

By Vulkan.

“Salt and Stars.” You groaned, shoving the pillow in your face to muffle the sound as it devolved into either a sob or hiccup or laugh or… something. You’re not quite sure. But it was dramatic, which you think you’re allowed to be, considering the circumstances.

How did this even happen? How did you end up married, technically, to a Primarch?

‘Oh fuck,’ You sit up, launching your pillow halfway across the room as you did, as you realise, ‘There had been witnesses. His sons had been right there!’ 

“Oh for fucksakes…!” You whined, diving into overdramatic cries as you buried your face in your hands. This was a diplomatic incident waiting to happen! What the hell were you supposed to do? How were you to explain this? To anyone? Vulkan, the bastard, doesn’t even realise the situation he’s put you in. Perfectly oblivious to the incident that’s primed like a bomb ready to go off at the slightest disturbance, and it had rested right upon your head all the way back to your quarters.

Another realisation.

Shit. Shit!

You had walked all the way to your quarters. While wearing the circlet. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Ohdeargodhadanyoneseenyou-

A hiss cut through your thoughts as a figure strutted through the doorway. Mitzi, another remembrancer recruited from your home planet, waltzed in carrying a bag no doubt laden with dubiously-acquired spoils. The shorter woman stopped dead at the sight of you, mid-panic, and announced plainly-

“Glad I got the good stuff.” 

-Before she unceremoniously dumped the contents on the bed, making a show of all she had managed to get. You also spied a bottle of something familiar, and almost cried at the sight. It was the good stuff, too. 

“I’ll get the glasses.” You say, even though you’re tempted to just drink from the bottle. However you just made a new set of drinking glasses and you figured you might as well use them now.

“Why get glasses when its already in glass?” Mitzi teased as she settled on the bed, arranging the pillows and settling in as she began to sort the food and drinks she had brought in. You quickly joined her, jumping on the bed and ruining her work to sort the packages by size and colour.

“I could make an argument for civility, but really if I take that bottle, you aren’t getting it back.” You joke with a sly smile, handing over a glass that had sections tinted so it looked like a salamander beast was weaving around the glass from within. A little on the nose, but it was mostly for practice and they turned out better than you expected. So you kept it as a personal set.

Mitzi blew a raspberry as she took the offered glass, and immediately set about pouring herself an unhealthy amount of alcohol, and handed the bottle to you. You also poured an unseemly amount of alcohol into your cup, and you both tapped the glasses together with a happy ‘cheers!’ before downing half your cups and descending upon the hapless snacks piled between you two.

Thankfully, as you both wiled your time away with good food and drink, your friend didn’t ask about what had put you in such a state when she walked in. Curious, most certainly, by the looks she kept giving you. She would ask, eventually, if you didn’t speak up, but she was kind enough to keep her curiosity in check at least for a while yet.

Something you were thankful for. It allowed you to ignore, and even forget a few times, the box sitting quietly on your desk somehow impossible not to notice, even when turned away from it. 

You giggled into your cup, refilled and emptied twice, and would need a third refill soon. Mitzi was cackling as she recounted her time confusing a young Salamander when she explained darkrooms and why they’re needed to process light sensitive photos and pictures. He had been confused on how she did that, as baselines don’t have night-vision, and trying to explain the special red lights and why she can’t use night vision goggles.

“I’ll be back.” Mitzi muttered between giggles as she slipped off the bed and stumbled to your bathroom, cursing as she tripped over her own feet. You weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or it was just clumsiness… or her legs were asleep, from the weird way she had been sitting… or lying. She wasn’t sure what position Mitzi had been in, but it didn’t look comfortable.

You closed your eyes as you finished off your drink, pleasantly buzzed and beginning to lean towards being drunk, especially if you kept going. Which you would, most likely. Enjoy this levity before you donned your armour and gear and went out to the battlefield with Mitzi and the others, to record the events and witness the deeds of those who fought to protect humanity and the Imperium.

You dataslate dinged, somewhere beneath the pillows, and it took a while to dig it out but you did. You smiled when you saw it was from Vulkan, and cradled your cheek with your palm as you braced the dataslate against one of the pillows.

Opening the message, you read the ‘The preparations are taking longer than expected. Unfortunately we will have to reschedule our plans. I’m sorry to make you wait.’ he had sent, disappointed but not surprised. You expected this, really, and probably shouldn’t have offered in the first place, but you wanted to give him a moment of reprieve. He worked so hard, and always seemed to be doing something, never resting. Never making time for himself. Granted, you don’t know the truth of that, as you don’t spend all your time with him. But you would like to give him that, to carve out time to let him relax, to not be a Primarch or Warlord. Just Vulkan. A father. A friend. 

You type a quick reply, assuring him that there was no need for apologies and that now you have something to look forward to after the battle. A reminder to rest, and to be safe, you added on impulse that was probably aided by the alcohol running through your veins. 

As you send it before you can think better of it, you hear the door to your bathroom hiss open and close. You’re staring at the screen when you hear Mitzi’s curious coo, and the click of a latch being undone. You realise too late what is happening, and the warmth in your blood and haziness in your head turns to ice-cold clarity with the bolt of panic when you hear:

“What the fuck.” 

Flinging yourself into a sitting position, you see Mitzi -the fucking sticky beak that she is- holding the box contraining the cause of your crisis. She is staring at it with a blank, if bewildered, expression. As though she cannot comprehend what she is looking at. You understand the feeling, but right now you just feel annoyed and panicked as you stand.

Walking over, you quickly snap the lid shut and lift the box from your friends hands, and place it back on the desk.

Back to reality, then.

Turning to face the music, you are instead faced with your friends scream of “What the fuck is that?” that was hopefully muffled by the walls of your quarters.

“A circlet.” You state, suddenly feeling petulant. Your irritation at your friend's inability to keep her hands to herself makes your tone more snappish than you meant.

“Yeah, no shit.” Mitzi snarled, more incredulous than anything. “Who proposed? When? Why didn’t you say anything?” Her tone turned more to hurt, no doubt thinking you had been keeping secrets about your relationship status.

“Nobody-” You try, stop, and try again, “It’s not- Salt and Stars! It’s not what it looks like.” You grab Mitzi’s hands with your own, squeezing them. “You know that if I was with anyone, you would be the first to know. If you don’t find out first because you’re a terrible snoop, I would tell you before anyone else.” You speak with all the conviction you can muster, which seems to be enough as Mitzi’s hackles lower as she listens.

“Honey, that is a marriage circlet. How is that not a proposal? Or…” she looks down at the box, eyes suddenly suspicious and slightly panicked, “It wasn’t a proposal? Are you married?”

“No.” You say immediately, but you pause as you remember the events. “Maybe…?” You sigh, closing your eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“How?” Mitzi tsk’s before shaking her head slightly, “More importantly. Who?” She presses, eyes focused on you with the same kind of intensity she gets with her craft.

“Vulkan.” You admit easily, knowing that Mitzi would rather face the cold void of space than share a secret between you two. You would do the same.

Mitzi blinked.

And blinked again.

“Vulkan.” Her question is more a statement, but you nod anyway. “Vulkan proposed to you.”

“No. He didn’t.” You say, already exhausted by this conversation.

“He gave you the circlet. You accepted. You’re married.”

“No, Mitzi.” You sigh, releasing her hands to cover your face with your own. “We’re not.”

“How come? Don’t tell me it’s some stupid ‘symbolic’ thing where he’s not committed to you, because if it is I’m going to have to go into hiding after I kill-”

“Mitzi! Don’t even joke about that!” “I’m not.”

Both warmed and concerned by Mitzi’s loyalty, and ease in admitting she would so readily try to kill a nigh-immortal giant, you try to steer the conversation away from treason.

“Regardless. That wasn’t his intent. Nor was marriage.”

“How could that be anything but intent for marriage?”

“He’s Nocturnean, Mitzi.” You try, gently, to lead your friend down the right trail of thought.

“Yes?”

“He’s not from our planet.” You push.

“And?” Mitzi snapped, crossing her arms. You raise your head enough to level her with a look.

“He’s not from our culture.” You try again. Shoving this time. Hoping she gets the point.

“Oh, by the Skies, you care about that?”

…

‘Mitzi you dumbass’, you think as you grab your friend by the shoulders. “Our ways are not his, Mitzi. He doesn’t know what it means.”

The silence that followed was empty and heavy as your friend processed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, shit.”

“I know.”

“You’re fucked.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to tell him?” She asked, which was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? You groan as you rub at your temples, eyes lingering on the box that held the exquisite circlet.

“I have to.” You say quietly. “He’s going to find out sooner or later. Better that it comes from me.”

“But…?” Mitzi presses gently, knowing there's more to it.

“I love him.” You admit. “I really, really do. I didn’t expect it, certainly not with a Primarch, and I was happy to just admire him from afar, to be his friend. Then he gives me this, oblivious as you please and he looked so sad when I froze, but then he looked so happy when I accepted and what else could I do? His sons were there and I know I should have spoken up but I panicked and then he put it on my head and I tried not to say the words but they kind of slipped out but they weren’t the exact words, and I know I have to tell him but we're about to enter a warzone and I can’t talk to him about this right now because it could distract him, but more than that what if he gets mad? What if he thinks I’m trying to trap him or that I lied to him? What if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore? What-”

A hand covers your mouth, and you blink at your friend as she stares at you with wide eyes.

“Okay. I see why you were… in a state, before.” Mitzi starts slowly, because admittedly she’s not on this side of the equation. Normally, you are the one acting as the voice of reason in their duo. “From what I know of his character, Vulkan wouldn’t react like that. If anything, he’d probably feel bad for putting you in that situation. You’re assuming the worst possible outcomes, honey, and I feel like that’s unfair to both of you.” She says, lowering her hand and looking at you carefully. Her eyes tell you she’s weighing her next words.

“What if… he doesn’t mind? Sure, maybe embarrassed and apologetic, but not upset. What if, after you explain it, he’s fine with it? What if it’s the opposite of all your fears? You can just return the circlet” You both cringe at the words, uncomfortable, “and after an adjustment period you can go back to being friends like normal. Or… as normal as you two get.”

“As someone who is also my friend, I feel like that says something about you as well.”

“Oh, I know I’m weird. I also know you're deflecting.”

You grumble, annoyed that your friend knows you so well. However, she does have a point. All you have to do is get a moment alone with him, explain everything, and… give back the circlet. 

It shouldn’t hurt that much just thinking about it. It was just a gift. Nothing more. 

It can’t be anything more.

“Come on. Let’s get drunk and eat our way into a food coma. Then in the morning, we’ll help with the preparations. Then, war. And then, you find your moment with him.” The way Mitzi said ‘find your moment with him’, you can’t help but feel like she’s not just talking about explaining the situation.

However, the lure of soothing your pending heartbreak -and your nerves for the upcoming battle- was too strong for you to think more on it. Instead you went straight back to your spot, and decided to forgo your glass and just chug it straight from the bottle like an uncultured heathen.

The future is uncertain, and you will face this trial eventually, but you feel lighter now that you have spoken your troubles, and more prepared with Mitzi’s guidance. Tomorrow will come with duties and dangers, but tonight you enjoy the simple revelry of good food, good drink, and good company.

***

@incrediblethirst, @kit-williams, @beckyninja, @bleedingichorhearts, @jaghatai-khock, @pluvio-tea, @moodymisty, @thethronezone, @iluminatka16 Hope you enjoyed the Interlude! Hope you're ready because I'm not! Up next up is Vulkan's POV, so we'll see how well we do. I make no promises, beyond the fact it will be adorable (probably).

Until next time!

(Also if anyone does or does not want to be tagged pls let me know.)

[crvngefrvll]

Scorbus headcannons again because YOU ALL LOVE IT AND I SAID YES 😋 (Modern-setting ish)

Albus' and Scorpius' amortentia DEFINITELY smelled like sweets. Yes, both of them smell sweets in their amortentia. Don't argue. (Duh the time where Albus stayed for Scorpius' sweets. 😋🫶)

Once Scorpius thought his amortentia smell was out of friendship, but sometime later he realized that he had never shared his sweets with anyone else except for Albus ☹️

Let's be so real here, Albus and Scorpius are SO BAD at giving dating/relationship advice.

LIKE- These two never had any exes, situationships, or anything like that. They just WENT STRAIGHT (pun? I guess) to crushing on eachother AND THINGS WORKED OUT FOR THEM 😭😭😭🙏

Like literally- their relationship would be one of the healthiest relationship ever- like I genuinely BELIEVE that they couldn't even fight for MORE than 10 minutes without flopping back to eachother ☹️🫶

(At some point) they probably think that if someone likes their friend, their friend WILL like them back because they are so in love and so lucky and so in love 😭😭😭🙏

Someone: "So, now that you two are together, what is your go-to dating advice?"

Albus, all confused: "...Well, I just stuck him for like 5 years and keep being secretly in love with him until he likes me back."

Scorpius: "Well yeah that's what I did! All we did was hang out together, hold hands, cuddle, share a bed, and then one day we just confessed! :D"

Someone: "...You know relationships doesn't always work that way."

Scorpius, also confused: "...What do you mean you don't just follow your bestfriend around for years until he likes you back??"

Albus: "Yeah..I mean you just choose them over and over again they'll like you back, right??"

Someone: 🤦

Albus get TONS OF OWLS and LETTERS (From Scorpius ofc) every HOLIDAY. Like, genuinely.

He has letters upon letters PILING in his room (from Scorpius ofc) ☹️☹️☹️ even Harry himself probably confronted him on the amount of letters Albus received

LIKE SERIOUSLY, Harry seeing the piles of letters ONLY FOR ALBUS probably reminded him of that time in the Dursleys with the Hogwarts letters ☹️☹️☹️🫶

And of course, Like any other lovesick teenager, Albus spends ALL HIS DAY on his room writing to Scoprius while almost always late for lunch and dinner ☹️🫶

Yes, he'll REPLY TO EVERY LETTER even as stupid as "Albus I found this cat!" with attachment of the photo of the orange cat

"OMG he's so cute ☹️☹️☹️, what should we name him?? I'll buy him some cat food and cardboard boxes and some fluffy blankets, yeah??? Do you want me to go to floo to your house??? ☹️☹️☹️🫶 Love youu"

Scorpius??? NOT ANY BETTER. He spends ALL HIS DAY in the holidays writing to Albus and practically making the family owl going back and forth to their houses 😭🙏

I feel like Draco DEFINITELY had nobody he was writing letters to so he KNEW that tye letters were for Scorpius ☹️

Scorpius and Albus visiting Astoria's grave one day, one person with a flower bouquet each, with Scorpius murmuring, "Mum, I found someone who stayed for my sweets." And Albus cried right then and there ☹️

Perhaps there are days when Scorpius just misses his mother and Albus lends him his shoulder to cry on ☹️

Ugh I have more to come stay tuned y'all I love you guys so much ☹️🫶

[wishmaster]

Hi there sir, so my buddy is having a party and he said that we all need to wear sports gear. But I don’t play sports or any l thing so I have nothing to wear. Do you have anything I could use for the party? I want to look like a real jock.

Here's our sports section, have sport that sticks out you like my friend? How about basketball, seems easy enough. He says trying to through the ball at me, but missed.

I through him a nice leathered basketball jersey, he takes in the changing room to make sure it fits. Your have to wear it without a shirt on for it to fit properly. He removes his backpack and both shirts, sliding the jersey on, Dude it's way too big and long. It looks like a sleep shirt. He yes to be then there's a scream from him, the door slams open and suddenly this tall ripped jock emerges from the changing room.

He was not the young man who entered that room.

Fuck Bro, Wow, love the leather look of this uniform, the shorts especially feels great when I'm going commando, am I right my dude? he asked me grabbing the basketball he couldn't toss before and sinking it in the basketball hoop we have installed all the way across the store. Fuck I still got it. he high fived me. Damn bro I feel energized, great costume, you think I can pull off the jock look, he laughed.

I started a conversation.

So what do you usually do now? I watched as his mind caught up with his new body, his world changed and he became someone new.

What do you mean bro, I'm a basketball player, star player on my college team, I model when I'm not playing. Shame not to share this body with the rest of the world am I right. He came close, advancing himself onto me. Maybe you'd like to find me a perfect costume to fit this fine form? He was hitting on me, i mean I try not to get involved with my customers, but Damn, the way his ass is framed in those tight shorts. I

I'm sure we can find something that will fit. I lead him into my office. Billy, don't disturb me, i wink at one of my employees.

I'll do whatever it takes to satisfy my customers, pretty sure he'll be a repeat customer.

[syllyism]

is it part of the curse of strahd rite of passage that at least one pc will fall in love with victor vallakovich

[calateralrobot]

Okay, everyone, breathe with me:

INNNN through the nose. OUUUUT through the spiraling realization that I have now made two artificial cursed wombs on accident-intentionally. That’s right. Please welcome: Pale.

WHAT IS PALE?

Pale is my second artificially grown curse fetus (this is not a sentence I should say out loud). Unlike Squirmy, who was the result of rot, wax, and ego, Pale was designed.

She—I’m going with she until told otherwise—is being developed as part of my “Food Resonance Theory” experiment. Basically:

If cursed energy is shaped by emotion and instinct…

And instincts are shaped by need and environment…

Then maybe food types used in the construction of life could influence the behavioral preferences of the resulting curse?

INGREDIENTS:

- Fish bones (sourced from a fish market dumpster)

- Fish eggs (ikura stolen from my own fridge)

- Beetle larvae (known to respond well to cursed residue!)

- Table salt (NOT iodized—important!!)

Binding medium: white wax, infused with minor cursed energy traces via blood-letting and regret.

Seal: Painted with barrier talismans in a traditional “containment prayer” loop. The wax jar is locked tight in cold storage.

BEHAVIOR SO FAR:

- No movement yet, but there is condensation inside the wax, despite it being sealed and cold.

- Wax surface shows tiny pale scratches, as if something tried to press from within.

- Once, for a split second, I swear I heard a sound like dripping water while near it.

- When I opened the fridge door to check—the salt packet on the shelf had burst open.

Coincidence? NEVER.

WHY “PALE”?

The wax has taken on a milky, moonlight tone. The thing inside doesn’t glow… but it reflects light wrong. Like an oil slick over snow. It reminds me of that underwater calm that happens before a deep sea creature opens its mouth.

She feels gentler than Squirmy more patient, more watchful.

THEORIES:

- Salt as Resonance

Salt is preservation, flavor, death, and ritual. Also ocean themezzz!!!

- Fish Bones = structure base(?)

I’m hoping to observe a curse that behaves with more elegance—not a writhing mass, but something sinuous. Controlled. Purposeful. Maybe having something to build onto and grow from will help?

- Insect Element = Transformation

Larvae respond to spiritual pressure. If Pale reacts to changes in the room’s cursed flow, I might see adaptive behavior soon. Like molting or metamorphosis

CLOSING THOUGHTS:

I know this is dangerous. I know I shouldn’t be making more of these. But the cursed world is a mirror—and I’m trying to figure out what it’s reflecting.

— L

[trappedinacomputer]

So after the talk tr!Aimsey and tr!Foolish had today about regrets and more importantly how Foolish doesn't dwell on them too long, how he "keeps moving forward" like a shark, if a shark stays still or in one place too long it dies, and while Foolish obviously can't die, there is still part of him that carries the shark nature.

Long ago he chose to be something more civil and docile and friendly and while, yes, there is still that part of him that longs for that destruction, that longs to feed into the other part of his nature, he is still half totem, he still wants to breathe life into everyone and everything, and protect said life even if it costs him a brief moment of despair... but maybe if he lingers on a regret, a loved one now lost, a memory, too long it'll slowly start to destroy him, to revert him back to what he once was and the part of himself he isn't too fond of seeing... the part of him that is all too familiar to one he hates but shares lifetimes with: Bad

Bad is his opposite; what is life without death? While Foolish spends his time constantly moving, Bad dwells, not forever but he takes moments to remember and cherish and acknowledge all of those he has loved and lost. And in their opposing views and paces at which they move across the mortal plane, there was, for a very long time, an understanding that the people they once cared for were gone, and that they could likely never reconnect with them again... they found comfort in each other's loneliness and loss because it was exactly like the other... but that's not true anymore.. Bad was thrown out of heaven for millions of years but now he is redeemed..he can see those he's lost once again and continue to cherish them... Foolish can't, and maybe he never truly will..

Foolish is Life, but in him he can know death, true death, not the brief moment that reconnects you with everyone you've ever loved and missed..the real death..endless darkness and a feeling of your soul no longer being connected to anything...adrift, possibly forever. In his moments between dying and being reborn again he doesn't get to see those loved ones, and if he is truly immortal, he never will. Bad gets the comfort of knowing that at the end of everything, after all these years, he can still go home to his children and the people he's loved, this is not a relief Foolish is granted. If Foolish knows he can never see these people again, that what's done is done, even if he were to go back and stop that moment of pain when he lost someone that there would just be another moment exactly like it later down the line... why would he dwell on it? Death is unstoppable, it is a force that he knows, all too well, gets what he wants in the end. He can, and has, tried time and time again to prevent the inevitable, but all of it was futile; so with his knowledge of what he is, who he is, and who his enemy is, he keeps moving forward; No time to dwell on what cannot be changed.

[bigdreamsandwildthings]

Autumn, here we come 🍂🎃🐈‍⬛✨

[dramaqueer-commie]

we need to give more credit to Steve Yasui, the sound mixer for the fhjy finale

the lowest moment for Brennan in d20, and by what i can only assume to be actual, real life magic, either the same dice magic Ally has that let K2 roll a nat 20 there, or by the curse that haunts Brennan in that dome, he *spills coffee on his shirt* in the exact spot and shape that Gilear has in all of the art of him.

And Steve Yasui, this absolute hero, plays the Gilear-curse effect.

here is my theory:

Brennan gave K2 true life, and she brought the Curse to our world. here, all magic has a price, and Brennan paid for bringing her here. the bad luck that haunts every DM from time to time, becoming the only actual curse in out plane of existence.

[storgicbytes]

I MIGHT ACTUALLY DIE

[akard-kiwi-ao3]

I doubt anyone would care, but have you ever thought about Shedletsky and Telamon from Blocktales too hard?

You ever noticed that Shedletsky simply states how unfortunate things are. You ever noticed how...silent he is? About the mortality? The deaths? The fact that the son of a friend of his is in the hospital? The fact that Cruel King died?

If he truly is Telamon, it's obvious that he feels empathy. Guilt, even. Kitchen Wizard was an obvious example.

So if he's capable of feeling empathy. Of guilt. Then isn't the silence telling? Chilling even? Not because he is inhumane. But because of the sheer emotions he's hiding?

Tell me. If your negligence caused you to be unable to move, and leave you vulnerable to an attack you couldn't handle.

If your negligence caused your friends to suffer.

If your negligence forced you to bear an identity you swore to leave years ago, only to return to it because it's your only option to help, then find the pain of your memories unbearable to the point where you bury your previous identity again...

only to realize that not only is it for naught, but someone else achieved what you could've done in a way that nearly ended it all...that nearly ended them, even...

Then tell me, what is even stronger? The guilt? Or his self-hatred? Which one will reach him first?

You never know. Not if he keeps his emotions to himself. Not if he's too prideful to ever admit his flaws, despite the fact that he fooled several with his "oafish" facade that he has kept for years. A facade that he kept for far too long, and suffered the consequences for it.

I doubt anyone would ever ask, anyways. After all, you've suffered enough.

The swords should not affect the creator, right? So why? Why did he abandon them in the first place? Why spread them so far apart and leave yourself defenseless when he could handle them in the first place?

Bear that grin, Shedletsky. Oafish, mortal Shedletsky. That facade is all you've ever known.