#magic in the mundane world

[marlynnofmany]

A friend of mine had this idea, and I’d love to see it in an urban fantasy: magic is real and it stays secret because it looks like bad CGI. The fakest thing ever.

People who witness magic in person can always have their minds clouded, as they have been for most of human history, but all this newfangled technology has to be handled a different way. A video camera records exactly what it sees.

So, what it sees is … something that looks laughably fake. For any time period. The various secret magicians of the world make a point to keep their spells up to date with the current mundane trends — some of them even have running contests for who can make the most fake-looking spell.

I imagine they have a great time doing it. I sure would.

[moonlit-tulip]

A gimmick which I think would be interesting in a visual novel: small variation in the visual designs of the sprites and backgrounds based on who's narrating a given scene. Not large variations, mostly—buildings are going to have generally the same architecture, people are going to have generally the same outfits, et cetera—but lots of details shifting around on the margins, showing the texture of the characters' thought-processes through the visual design of the world as they see it, rather than only through the text of their narration.

So, for example, one could have one viewpoint character be unusually faceblind, and portray this by having all the sprites have Same-Face Syndrome when viewed from their perspective, even as they hold onto more variation face-wise in everyone else's perspectives. One could have one viewpoint character who's unusually conscious of the fine details of their physical environment, and portray this by drawing the environment-art with much more fiddly detail when in their perspective, showing wood-grain and electrical wiring and other such things which are abstracted away in others' perspectives of the same areas. Et cetera.

[iamnmbr3]

harry definitely not heterosexual potter is the funniest thing to me because i literally cannot remember a single time in the book where he thinks “i should probably be nervous about draco trying to kill me because i am literally convinced that he is willingly working with voldemort.” no. he was like “oh draco? yeah he is definitely working for voldemort and he is so evil because did you see the way he is combing his hair now? probably switched shampoo. he would never change conditioner, that thing works wonders. what do you mean, this is common knowledge. anyway, he is so evil and definitely working for voldy. but of course he won’t kill me, are you crazy? who would he talk to across the great hall? like literally you don’t even understand.” and everyone just WENT WITH IT.

Hahahahaha I KNOW! Would he feel this safe around literally any other person who he suspected of being in league with Voldemort? I think tf not!

Even once Draco has Harry incapacitated and totally at his mercy on the train Harry at no point thinks that he's in danger. Even after Draco breaks his nose he doesn't think it. After that incident Harry still is all 'can't wait to break into the Room of Requirement BY MYSELF while Draco is in there so I can see what secret evil mission he's working on for Voldemort' and at no point does he worry that going in without backup could end badly. And HE'S RIGHT. When Draco has Harry at his mercy he never seriously harms him and risks everything multiple times in book 7 to protect him. This is NOT Harry seeing Draco with rose tinted glasses. This is Harry deeply and intimately understanding that Draco will not hurt him and feeling comfortable around him on an instinctual level despite every reason he has not to.

And let's not forget why Harry finally stops investigating Draco in 6th year. It's not because he decides he's wrong about his whole "Draco is a Death Eater on a mission from Voldemort" theory nor is it because he gets worried that since Draco is a Death Eater on a mission from Voldemort looking into this could get Harry or his friends hurt. No. He stops because his investigation leads to Draco getting hurt. And Harry is so horrified by this that he completely backs off and gives up trying to stop the super secret evil mission from Voldemort that Harry is sure Draco is on. Harry is like 'foiling an evil plot masterminded by Voldemort himself isn't worth it if it could lead to me hurting Draco.' He really said 'I can excuse putting myself in mortal danger on a regular basis to stop Voldemort's plots but I draw the line at Draco being upset.' In canon.

And yeah Harry cares about people in general but not to this extent. When Umbridge gets carried off by centaurs Harry doesn't even think of going after her. He's just like 'lmao bye bitch.' He straight up KILLS Quirrell in first year and when he finds out he's like 'well that sucks for him.' Tons of Death Eaters get hurt and maimed at the Department of Mysteries and Harry never even stops to check if they're ok. In second year he forces Lockhart to enter the Chamber of Secrets first in case there's a Basilisk waiting at the bottom of the chute.

But anytime he sees Draco in danger he does whatever he can to help without even thinking about it. From the time in first year in the Forbidden Forest when he immediately throws his arm out to stop Draco walking towards Voldemort to 7th year when he risks his own life and that of his friends to pull him out of the fiendfyre and reveals his presence while running through the battle so he can stun a Death Eater threatening Draco. And he does it automatically, without a second thought because Harry can't fathom a world where he wouldn't protect Draco.

[trinketbug]

With the Winter King literally being the wizard and farmworld Finn being first depicted as literal scarecrow I am so excited to see how the rest of this goes

[crowsgrudge]

when gary said "oh no hes hot" when scarab blew up the apartment I CANT WITH HIM

[glitteringaglarond]

And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.

This is so peaceful and beautiful, but part of me has always been a little bit confused...

Who wrote this part of the Red Book? Who got Frodo's final perspective before leaving Middle Earth? Did Sam later consult with Aragorn and those who were left of the Wise and determine what Frodo's dream in the house of Bombadil was all about? And then combine it with some of Bilbo's translations to extrapolate what Frodo's final moments would have been?

Somebody explain

[frootbyethefoot]

fionna and cake isekai gone right vs simon petrikov isekai gone wrong

[scribefindegil]

*reads Literally Just A Summary Of The Events Of Separation Arc and starts foaming at the mouth*

[whump-in-the-closet]

The Scarred Among the Mundane.

cw: medieval torture (pillory), stress positions, public humiliation, manhandling, mock execution (implied), magic whump, elf whumpee, forced to kneel

previous. masterlist. next

— —

The dawn is cold and wet and grey. And there is a fresh bruise in centre of the town square

Two guards stand on either side of a wooden T-shaped structure.

One sways on his feet, eyes drooping shut under his helm. Both are leaning on their spears for support.

A bird breaks the grey dawnlight with a diving swoop– a dart of black feathers and loud shrieking.

One of the guards straightens, cracking stiff bones with a sharp twist. “Lord.”

The other pushes back his helm to scratch the raw indents left in his temples. He mutters something unintelligible, walking over to the wooden carcass that is a pillory.

A limp body hangs from the structure. Hands are dead against the wood and face obscured by sandy dreadlocks, heavy boards fastened over the prisoner’s neck.

Shallow breathing is the only sign of life. Chains snake around the pillory as an extra measure of caution.

The guard yawns. Wiping his mouth, he kicks the prisoner as violently as he can. His boot leaves a smear of dirt and violet bruises on the figure’s side. “Rise and shine, elfboy.”

The first thing Finn is aware of is the ache in his neck and weighted numbness in his arms. His stomach turns, yesterday’s bread tasting like ash in his throat.

He tries to roll his shoulders, only to be met with wooden resistance.

That’s odd.

Behind him, someone laughs.

And it all comes back– the brilliant plan, the failed plan, the red-headed human and the freezing pain–

And now this strange, wooden device he’s trapped in.

Exhaustion turns to panic in a ripping heartbeat. He wants out of this.

Right now.

Right this instant.

He’s yanking at the holes his hands are trapped in, yanking and twisting and rubbing them raw and it’s not working.

“Let me out!”

More laughter. The sun rises higher, playing on his face and making him squint.

“This is…” Finn strains against the wooden boards– strains to find the right word. Dozens come to mind. Absurd. Unacceptable. Unbelievable. He finally settles on one, spitting it out with a bitter curl of his lip. “This is a mistake.” I’ll make you regret this.

Watch.

He thinks of the town square going up in flames, all scarlet and white-hot agony on the thatched roofs.

The guards stop laughing. One brings down the butt of his spear across Finn’s head.

Finn sets his jaw, a sudden and sharp roaring in his ears. Still he can hear the guards talking.

“You hear that? The bastard thinks he’s some powerful lord.”

Another flick of the spear that Finn can’t dodge. Wood fills his vision, cutting off his curse mid-sentence. Crack.

“As if he’s got longer than a day to live.”

Something wet and hot and sticky drips from Finn’s nose. He licks it away, but it leaves the taste of salt behind.

A deep-throated snarl rises up– bloodied and thick– “You will all burn.”

“For Christ’s sake, he’s feral.” There’s a shudder in the guard’s voice.

Finn bares his teeth, showing off the jagged edges. These humans had every right to be scared of him. Honestly, how dare they? Who did they think they were? And what did they mean by he didn’t have a day to live–

This train of thought is interrupted as the first few villagers start to trickle into the open clearing. Eyes flicker from the pillory to Finn to Finn’s pointed ears.

An entirely new emotion twists inside him. A vine crawling and wrapping and snapping his ribcage, leaving his heart beating on display.

Finn snarls and a few humans recoil. But a few of the braver ones step forward. And that's when Finn sees the basket of rotten fruit.

Bruised tomatoes.

Horrid pears and smashed apples.

Those last ones will hurt. As if his day can get any worse.

Finn redoubles his efforts to escape. “Let me out of this! Let me out!” He yanks and panics and tries not to scream.

The guards, predictably, do nothing. Finn decides he’ll set their houses on fire first.

Blood trickles down the wooden structure in thin lines, but scarlet rage is all Finn can see. Scarlet and the outlines of the first villagers bending down to pick up the fruit.

Eyes widening. A final, breathless curse. “Don’t you dare–”

The humans dare.

A tomato explodes directly in his face. Rotting red in his mouth and in his eyes and probably in his ears too.

He never wants to eat fruit again. An apple hits him in the mouth. A pear to the side of his head. The barrage comes faster and faster. The crowd grows, and with it, the amount of rotten fruit thrown.

Finn will never eat fruit again…

Midday does not bring much relief, though the basket is now empty and the crowd dispersed. Most of the basket’s contents are on Finn.

He keeps his eyes closed to the mass of humanity. The crowd swirls and tightens and laughs. Someone shouts out the prices of eggs.

Finn tries and fails to pretend that he doesn’t have a tomato slipping down the front of his shirt. There’s raw egg sticking to the inside of his ear.

He gags.

Then gags again.

“Damn it all,” he says.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell rings. The clear tones echo harshly twelve times. Next to Finn, the guards snap awake. Before Finn has time to process what’s happening, a black bag has been thrown over his head.

Damn this specifically.

The boards around his neck and wrists are loosened, only for cold metal to take their place. His arms ache and then burn as the guards tighten the chains behind his back.

Finn curses the guards, and the Monarch, and every member of the crowd in rapid fire succession. Most of this is muffled by the hood, but Finn feels infinitely better.

“Where are you taking me?”

He’s pushed forward roughly. “Public execution.”

“You mean, I’ll be watching your public execution? Excellent.”

The butt of the spear. Again. “Your execution. You’re to be hanged.” This time, Finn stumbles, feet suddenly weighted.

“You deserve something worse,” adds the other guard. “But the Monarch says hang the elf, so we hang the elf.”

Finn stops walking.

The guards shove him forward. “Move it.”

But Finn’s legs have turned to wood. The word execution sounds like a sharpened knife. The drop of an axe, burying into flesh. The noose tightening.

The world spinning on and leaving Finn behind.

His last moments are to be spent with stuffy breathing and glints of sunlight through a hood?

A dead sound rips its way out of him. It tastes as black and vile as the word execution.

“Shut up,” says one of the guards.

Finn takes a long, dragging step. And then another. And then one more. He’s going to die with egg yolk dripping into his ear?

A scream builds up. Futile and hopeless.

Finn twists his arms out of the guards’ hands, stumbling away. He can’t get far. He knows this. But through the panic and the screaming, can’t sounds a lot like can.

The sound of hoofbeats seems to come from everywhere at once. Finn still tries to run, not caring in which direction he’s going.

And then his own body betrays him. He’s not entirely sure it’s his own body. A single word consumes it, while his mind watches with violet-tinged horror.

Kneel.

Finn drops to the ground. Inside, he’s screaming. He’s aware of voices beside him and hears the crinkling of paper, but he can’t make out the individual words.

Defeated sighs from the guards.

The hood is withdrawn. Finn’s stomach drops. “Damn you, specifically.”

The red-haired sorcerer smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She tucks the scroll away with a small shrug, keeping one hand on her horse’s bridle “You might regret that.”

“That’s my line.”

“Not anymore.”

Finn snaps at her, lips drawn back to his gums. “I’ll watch you burn and laugh.”

The sorcerer doesn’t seem too bothered by the idea. “You’re not too polite to your saviour, are you? I was expecting at least a ‘thank you’.” She glances at the guards. “Does that seem like too much to ask?”

Sullen silence.

“Say ‘thank you’, elf,” says the sorcerer.

Finn glares and says nothing. A long moment of silence. The crowd watches out of the corners of their eyes and pretends not to notice.

The sorcerer lifts her hand in a beckoning gesture. Speak. The words are ripped from Finn’s mouth, leaving the taste of copper behind.

“Thank you.”

“Hm…Your name, elf?”

Again, that ripping sensation. “Finn.” I’ll burn your house with you inside it.

The sorcerer’s hand drops. She mounts her horse, swaying slightly. The moment passes.

Digging through her satchel, she pulls out a rope and ties it into a noose. Throwing it to the guards, she says, “Allow me to take him out of your hands.”

Finn has never considered the idea of “a fate worse than death” before but he does now.

tagging: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast (lmk if you want to be added/ removed!)

[catladychronicles]

favorite part of the day is driving home on my lunch to pet my cats

[ghcstcd]

all my muses are either cursed (or blessed, depending on your opinion) with the knowledge of other worlds, are from other worlds, or travelers between.

Because I love cross overs :)

[shrapnarl]

.

[cdo499]

in 1x10 this world inverted we see three things that stick out to me:

1. luke isn’t present in clary and the morgensterns’ lives, which implies that he and valentine would’ve never met if they weren’t shadowhunters, but if they were parabatai in one universe, isn’t it safe to assume that they would be parabatai in every universe?

2. why is jace still named jace? in canon, he’s named directly after jonathan, so wouldn’t he have a different name?

3. where is jonathan? surely the eldest morgenstern child would’ve attended such an important party for the family business

obviously all of these questions can be answered with it all being an oversight on the writer’s part, but i want to hear the fandom’s theories for why this is

[reynardmuldrake]

My neighbour (75 yo man) said to me “I’m just not cut out for the city” and he said this specifically because last time he went to visit his daughter he saw a green sidewalk and thought it was cool so obviously he wants to walk on that sidewalk instead of the boring regular one but his daughter immediately pulled him off so he didn’t get hit by a cyclist in the goddamn bike lane. Considering nobody actually got hurt in this particular situation I just think that is so adorable. Clueless old man wants to enjoy the beauty of the world by walking on the pretty green sidewalk. He’s not cut out for the city because when it comes down to green sidewalk or grey, how could he possibly resist choosing the most beautiful option?

[bookwyrminspiration]

me: haha it’s cool how in the cats’ eyes all these mundane human objects have become mythical and beyond comprehension, turning cars into monsters and such. it creates magic out of the mundane, this world within our own real world created solely out of a new perspective. And yet these things they venerate all have scientific logistic explanations and—

leaders: *literally have nine lives granted by the moonstone*

me:

[knife-em0ji]

I’m taking this weekend off to catch up on all the estar guars shows I missed and like. Hey. Was anyone going to tell me that andor is the best Star wars show ever made