#or to confuse hubris for confidence

[skye-nsfw]

How are you so confident with this stuff when you're so young?

I'm 21 and still can't really figure out what I want

i exposed myself to these concepts at perhaps too young of an age, but it did allow me the time figure out what i do and dont want. however, what u like and what u dont like changes over time, especially when u start exploring w/ people physically. i wouldnt fret about figuring out what u like or what u dont, instead i would say focus on having good, healthy experiences, and let ur curiosity drive u towards the things u like.

as for why i project confidence, it's bc i want to be. it's a part of the role i want to have in most of my dom/sub dynamics. it is also bc i feel these concepts and topics should be a normal part of everyday conversations, that they should be normalized.

of course, being horny makes that easier ;)

[sunnibits]

every time someone draws a brown or hazel eyed character with blue eyes I should get 5 dollars

[rockpaperimpala]

So about Netflix's the Last Airbender....

I am literally so confused you guys. You made me think I would HATE this show. And I LOVED it. Me. Known perfectionist and hater.

Katara was lovely. Yes, she started as a more soft spoken character than her cartoon version, but she was still passionate and hopeful throughout, just visibly unsure of herself. I think people were thrown off by this actress' natural way of expressing herself, which is Different from animated katara for sure, but not bad. Then she spends the whole season growing in Confidence and Fire. I Adored her fight with Paku, it really did feel like a payout of the whole season's development, and the bending kicked ass!

The Bending Kicked ass!!! The martial arts was fun and fast and creative and exciting! It looked SO good. That alone would be enough reason for me to watch and enjoy any show.

Zuko's actor was fantastic. He really captured the rage and confusion of this 16 year old banished prince. And there were so many Added moments between him and Iroh wich to me enriched their relationship. Like YES! This is why I'm watching, to see more of them, to see things done a little differently.

Iroh facing the consequences of his actions at Ba Sing Se!! That's what I'm here for!

Zuko's relationship with the men on his ship! That's what I'm here for!

The Extra layers we get to Ozai manipulating his children!

Also no one is talking about Admiral Zhao, who I had SO much fun with. I feel like they slightly fleshed out his character in a really dramatic way, really developing the hubris and frankly insane grasping ambition of someone who would kill the moon. I completely enjoyed this wilder, less controlled version of him, who comes up through the season from basically nothing and no one!

I am OBSESSED with King BUMI and his anger and disillusionment with the world! Like this was SO real. Living a hundred years of futile war would do that!!!! It is one of my favorite changes to the whole series. This new layer of emotion and character depth is what I'm here for!

Sokka was SO funny. He literally had me laughing out loud so often. That actor GETs Sokka, and GETS the way his humor is delivered. And is also able to tap into the more vulnerable side of him. People said he was "obsessed" with leadership. WHAT? That is a young person trying desperately to do his best and to try and find his place in the world, to figure what he has to offer. I loved his pride at hearing the Mechanist say that he would make a good engineer, and the sweetness of the moment that Yue's father says that he can be a hero without being a warrior. Sokka does so much growth in this series, in understanding himself and life.

And his chemistry with Suki was adorable!! I even like him and Yue (who was a totally unexpected sweetheart, despite her terrible wig)!! Like he has that same ability that Sokka has in the original to Connect with people.

Aang was great! He WAS fun loving and sweet and funny. I don't know what you guys wanted. Cartoons are always bigger and more exaggerated than live action. People's eyes swell up an, birds fly around their heads, and there are funny sound effects. That larger than life quality is the strength of animation! You have to look for different strength in live action. Like the SUBTLETIES of the acting choices. This little actor brought so much kindness, innocence, and strength to Aang.

And I FELT his frustration at being asked to do this at 12, his fresh hope anytime it looked like someone more experienced would be able to help him and no one did, and that's why he didn't learn waterbending this season, because he kept waiting for an freaking ADULT to show him the way, to help him carry this immense burden, but every adult he meets asks him for help instead, asks him to carry it himself, and then the finale hits and he realizes that there won't be any adults helping, he does have figure this out himself, and he makes the hard choice, takes on responsibility more than his years and offers himself to the ocean spirit, and he might have been lost entirely if not for Katara!

And that counter running theme to the show pays off: that he doesn't have to do it alone. He may not have more experienced guidance, because the adults have let him down again and again, but his friends will be with him, and they will figure it out together!

This is there throughout the series! Katara tells him this about learning waterbending, when he says he still wants to wait. Bumi tells him this in the palace at Omashu, and Aang sees the faith he has in his friends repaid!

I like these changes! And the show still found time for silly fun adventures and character building moments.

The show was never going to be the animated original. That is already a Masterpiece, and it frankly did NOT need to be adapted at all. I did not WANT a live action adaptation. I was adamantly convinced I would hate it. But the changes that they netflix show gave are what I Iike most about it. If I want to see Zuko say "you rise with the moon, I rise with the sun," I will go watch the animated original, because that version is perfect. And now, if i want to see Zuko say "Lu ten would have been proud to have you as a father," and see iroh pull him into a tight hug, I can watch this live action version, which is very good too. I'm going to disagree with most of the people on here and say that the Netflix's Avatar: The Last Airbender, DOES capture the heart of what we liked about the original show. It's spirit, fun, excitement, and characters. And the changes made are the reason we should be watching.

[clov3sr]

Wholly | j. bellingham

. a/a — I. love. the. idea. of. mean. couples. Like oh my fucking. BRO.

. c/t w(s) — fem!reader, little spicy nothing crazy chill out, very haphazardly proofread so no promises

. ♫ — make me better; Fabolous, Ne-Yo

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 2:22 ─────ㅇ─── 4:13

—— "the right when I'm wrong, so I never slip; show me how to move, that's why I never trip."

𓆩♱𓆪 THE BAR WAS crowded, riddled with drunk patrons attempting to flag down the bartenders. Jude much preferred the solitude of his private section, but from the bar he could watch you tap the pads of your fingers against your exposed thigh, teasingly looking down at him with that sly smirk that he's beyond proud to say came from him. He's used to hearing dire threats of a man's ego mutilating into fatal hubris, but he can't relate it to being your man; There can only be good that stems from knowing he's the only one who gets to inch his hand up your little dress, dragging his teeth across the sensitive skin of your neck. He's the only one who knows how much more overwhelmingly intoxicating your perfume is compared to the drinks he's getting for the two of you. and you're the only one who gets to scratch lightly at the base of his neck and grip his bicep, a warning of your very public location. There's not much else he can say looks as good on you as pure confidence and trust in him.

So much trust that when girls inevitably approach him, he watches as that coy smile widens eagerly, and his eyes don't — can't — leave yours.

He wholly belongs to you.

The hand that slaps his own is rougher than the usual groupies because it's not one. Instead, he glances momentarily to see another man leaning back against the bar counter with him, one who's not even looking at Jude, but straight upwards at you.

"Pretty as hell," is all he leadingly mumbles, and Jude scoffs a bit in annoyance, but it's lost on the former male.

"Yep." He spits in response. Your eyebrows lower slightly in confused amusement. Jude tilts his head up disapprovingly and shakes his head slowly; he adores the silent communication the two of you have developed naturally.

"What're the chances I can bag that?" the anonymous male chuckles, and Jude can feel the thin thread of his patience shearing by the millisecond.

"Zero."

This earns him an entertained grin, and Jude wants to throw his head back in exasperation right then and there. He's heard enough of your stories to know where this is going,

"That a challenge, man?"

It's so infuriating that he can't disprove you when you proclaim that men are trash.

"It was not." His eyes are still on yours, and by the way they degrade in brilliance with every word, you can tell he's not enjoying whatever conversation he's having. Unlike Jude, you find it extremely amusing, covering your mouth as you giggle. His expression is always so telling, and this guy is apparently so dense that he can't tell. That, or it's because the stranger's eyes haven't left you either, so he probably just hasn't seen it yet.

"Dressed like that? All alone in a section? Those types are easy. Just need a bit of attention."

Jude can feel the familiar heat of boiling anger bubble in his chest, but he quells it just barely. He could make his PR team hate their job tonight, but he won't be able to stop himself from rolling his eyes if he has to hear Hendo's fatherly scolding about it. He won't act in the way he desperately wants to, but he does need this guy to shut the hell up immediately.

"She's a woman, not a rescue dog. Watch your fucking mouth."

The man looks over in offense, obviously just now realizing that Jude is not the random bonding type of guy. He shakes his head, as if deciding to let Jude off easy, and pushes himself off the counter. While he begins to strut over to your section, he fixes his posture and pulls his shirt down in an attempt to neaten it.

Just after he takes his leave, the bartender makes it to Jude with a hurried apology, which he assures is unnecessary, and asks for the bottle you both prefer. Two in hand, he's seconds behind the stranger on the way toward you.

"Hello, beautiful."

The prior playfulness that you wore on your face was immediately infected with aversion, your eyes finally leaving Jude to look up at the guy standing over you. Oh, he doesn't know. Shame.

"Hi?" you pull your crossed legs in towards yourself, tilting your body direction anywhere but towards him. He won't get the hint, you've been through too many situations like this to believe he will, but it still makes you feel slightly less revolted regardless.

"You're too hot to be sittin' up here alone, yeah?" He's slurring his words, and you're sure if you were closer you could smell the stench of alcohol and cheap cologne, but the thought of being that close makes you shudder uncomfortably. To your satisfaction, you see Jude emerge with your favorite drink in both hands, and he provokingly sits them on the glass table with a purposeful clink.

"Hmm," your fingertip taps your bottom lip ironically, and for a brief second, you wonder where this side of you came from. There is just something about Jude's conviction that you're his that makes any attempt at you criminally insolent. You'll make sure anybody who tries to get at you or Jude, and everybody around them, know never to try moronic shit like this again, "I am, aren't I?"

Jude frustratingly collapses at your side, practically on top of you, and automatically resumes his position kissing fervidly down your jawline. Occasionally, he'll spend longer on a particular spot, accompanying it with a taunting squeeze of his large hand around your smooth thigh, even as it inches farther up by the second. He's still aware enough, however, to allow you to lean forward a little and grab the neck of your bottle and your glass. He smiles for the first time since this altercation when he hears your breath hitch in pleasure, legs tensing slightly in seek of friction.

As you somehow manage to pour the drink into your glass without spilling it, your eyes dart back up coldly to the man who's still standing there like a deer in headlights. You almost feel bad, but Jude's fingers begin digging into your thigh again, and any mercy you had is stripped away instantaneously. Maybe he's a bad influence in this way, but it's a thrill you wouldn't give up for anything. Your eyebrows furrow in judgment, your nose scrunching up just to seal the look of pure disgust.

Jude's hand leaves your thigh, and you sigh disappointingly at the loss of warmth and pressure. The displeasure is soon sidelined, though, when that hand flicks twice towards the man, a blatant fuck you, shoo, and then returns to rubbing up and down your side. It's like Jude knows just how to spur you on, how to weed out that twinge of evil that you're sure originates from your mother's side. Right now, you decide you want to reward him for giving you that spirit, reciprocally assure him you wholly belong to him, and it's that conviction that laces your spitting tongue with a ruinous venom,

"Why're you still here, freak?"

. a/pn(s) — Mean. Couples. ahehehaha.

[meabh-mcinness]

Cheating (KalegoxGN!reader)

Main Masterlist

As a teacher at Babyls, you had to go through and experience many things. Demon-eating plants on the loose, potion labs blowing up, and the many, many events that Babyls put on and almost always had something go wrong before you, the teachers, had to fix it. In the few years you had been there, you thought you had gone through it all, until now.

For the first time ever, you had caught a student cheating.

I…yea. Look I'm not a teacher, yet at least (I'm getting a minor in education and intend to teach both ESL and probably biology (which is my major) and palaeontology (which is my Master's/PhD's) but the amount of AI generated essays I've seen as an undergraduate writing centre tutor and is just grrrrrrr. Anyway have my little rant fic.

"Do you know why I've asked you to stay behind?"

A smile stayed on your face as you stared directly into the eyes of the student before you. As a human, you had long mastered the look of a hard stare while still appearing to be friendly. When the student, a fourth year by the name of Muzuki, had first come up to you after class, they had been cocky, confident. The absolute picture of unwarranted hubris if there ever was one. And so you sat comfortably in your chair, a nice soft leather from some poor Netherworld beast that Kalego had kindly bought for you, quietly waiting for Muzuki to answer your question as you continued staring at them. The longer you stared, the less comfortable they became.  

A shake of the head, purple braids swinging with the force of it. An eyebrow raised as the silence continued. "Really? None at all?" Your own head tilted to the side slightly, a smile still set on your face as you waited. Another more hesitant head shake followed. A disappointed sigh left you, and your body shifted forward so that you could reach a small stack of papers just off to the side and slid into their view. Their eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as they quickly glanced over the top laying paper, before freezing up a little. "Perhaps this gives you a hint?" 

They tried to subtly shake themselves loose and continue to hold up that faked confidence. Lower jaw set stubbornly, but you could see that fear was in their eyes. And that was all you needed to pounce.

“Tell me Muzuki, do you think I’m stupid?” They visibly startled at the question, body jerking slightly in surprise at they looked back you again. You could see their mind racing as they quickly thought up an answer.

“No professor,” they settled on. You hummed in response.

“Then do you think you’re exceptionally deceptive? I’ll admit it’s an admirable trait to have in the Netherworld. To con others into giving you what you want is a way to ensure survival after all. Until of course,” you paused smiling slipping off your face and eyes narrowing at them, “you try to con the wrong person.” You watched as their body froze up; terror evident on their face before they mentally shook themselves and stood taller.

It was evident to you that they couldn’t understand why they feared you so much at that moment. After all, even if you were related to the great Sullivan, you were just some no-ranker. Supposedly not even worthy enough to receive an alef badge much less heranking like the student before you. What a shame that the demon culture never understood that sometimes, a rank meant nothing in the face of what someone could do.

While you hated making a student fear you, you also understood that this message really needed to sink in. You couldn’t let students think you could be taken advantage of, not if you wanted to remain a good teacher. And you also couldn’t let them think they could get away with everything, there were so many beings out there who would do far worse things to them if they had been deceived.

“Con, professor?” they asked, trying to keep a smirk on their face but you could see the slight tremors moving through their body that belied how they really felt.

“Yes Muzuki. Con. In this case, defined as trying to trick someone into believing something that is not true. Such as you writing this essay.” Muzuki started to open their mouth, but you held up your hand to pause them. “Don’t even bother. I’m well aware that you didn’t write this. The tone and style are far too different from your usual works, and at least three of the supposed sources you gave me do not exist. At all. And believe me I looked. I even contacted different clans to see if they had heard of the books because I wanted to believe that you wouldn’t cheat. And yet here we are.” You gestured between the two of you, a look of fear creeping on their face and a disappointed one on yours.

“I didn’t cheat,” they blurted out suddenly. You raised an eyebrow at them.

“Oh?”

“Yeah! Those sources are real books! You couldn’t find them because uhm because they belong to the Naberius clan! Yup, you know Kalego-sensei. He’s super grouchy but he always helps us in the end if we ask. And since this essay was on the particulars of summoning runes, I thought he would be good to ask.” They ended this sentence with a firm nod. You blinked at them. Once, twice, and thrice again as you tried to comprehend what they just said. Were…were they serious?

“You asked…Kalego-sensei?” you parroted back at them. More violent nods were your answer. So, they were being serious. As far as backup claims went, you could see how it could come about. There were just a few obvious issues with what they were saying. For example, “Why didn’t you ask Robin-sensei? The actual familiar teacher?”

“Well…Robin-sensei is new. Like you are professor, and to be honest I feel more comfortable asking Kalego sensei since he used to run the class. It’s a habit to think of him as the familiar teacher rather than Robin-sensei. Plus, I figured with such an amazing familiar as Cerberion combined with his old and high-ranking family line he had to have something worth checking out.” You slowly nodded your head, mostly in disbelief rather than actually agreeing with what they were saying. If you hadn’t known already known that the Naberius family had no such books, you could see it as a liable thing happening.

What a shame that you knew it wasn’t true since Kalego allowed you full access to the Naberius library. When his family wasn’t home of course. No need to have to deal with the drama fallout that would come if his family discovered that Kalego had feelings.

“I see. Yes. Kalego-sensei is rather helpful, isn’t he? Always so ready to lend a hand to those willing to ask for it.” Muzuki nodded more, so fast that their braids practically whipped around in a frenzy. It appeared they were really going to fight you on this. You admired their tenacity and their bravery to involve Kalego of all demons. A grin lit up your face, “In fact, since this is clearly just a misunderstanding why don’t we just call him over here?”

You watched as their face went through a series of emotions. First pride and relief at believing they had in fact tricked you, before confusion set in before finally landing in panic mode as your words sunk in.

They waved their hand about, “Well I mean there’s no need for that is there? It’s just like you said it was simply a misunderstanding. I’m sure Kalego-sensei is really busy right now and I would hate to bother him for something so small.”

“Nonsense! It’s like we agreed earlier, Kalego-sensei is always willing to lend a helping hand, and it wouldn’t be too much to tear him away from whatever work he is currently doing just to confirm this. Between you and me he could use some more breaks and since this is such a simple thing, he can be in and out and still get a few minutes’ rest from it to get back to work with a fresher mind. A win-win all around wouldn’t you say?”

The grin on your face was downright feral and you knew it. Briefly you wondered how far they would take this. After all, Kalego would never tolerate being used in a lie for something so insignificant as this. Honestly, there wasn’t much Kalego would allow someone to lie using him. You liked to think he would lie to keep you out of jail but that was a 50/50 shot depending on what happened to cause you to be arrested in the first place. Perhaps best not to chance it.

It took only a second for you to shoot off a text to Kalego’s phone and lean back in your chair, hands clasping in front of you. A second for the student to realize what exactly had just happened and you watched their eyes. Pure panic was enveloping them. The predator in you purred at causing the feeling and you understood why Kalego acted so spitefully so often. It really was a nice feeling.

It was only a minute of you and Muzuki staring at one another before you heard the clunking steps of Kalego’s boots. Ah, he was not in a happy mood for you to hear him. You suddenly felt pretty bad for Muzuki considering what you were about to unleash on him. The door to your room was slammed open and in walked the demon in question. You could practically see the dark shadows of anger flowing off of him; his lips pulled into a snarl. Muzuki shrunk into themselves at his look but you could only just barely control yourself from rolling your eyes at him. If this were an anime you were almost certain there would be a giant sweat drop on your head at Kalego.

“What,” he snarled at you, teeth on full display. This time you actually did roll your eyes before crooking a finger at him. A universal command to ‘come hither’. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Muzuki stare at you in horror at your blatant lack of fear towards Kalego, along with your audacity to actually command him. To be fair though, Muzuki wasn’t the one courting the growling menace before you, and this allowed you leeway. A lot of leeway.

“Afternoon sunshine!” you greeted him with a bright smile, the answering glare he gave in return being as much of greeting as you were going to get with witnesses about, especially while he was in a mood. Ignoring his sour mood you gestured towards your student who was still staring in terror at you. Likely believing this interaction will result in your death. “Muzuki-san here and I were just having a little discussion here and we just needed you to confirm something for me.”

Kalego raised an eyebrow at you, head tilting the slightest bit in his curiosity, before his eyes narrowed again. “And this required me coming all the way out here? Are you not a teacher? Confirm it yourself rather than wasting my time.” Another roll of your eyes came out. All the way out here was literally down the hall. It was rather convenient having your classroom only a couple hundred feet from the teacher’s room. Especially when it came to annoying your favourite demon.

“Unfortunately, it does require you to be here as it involves you. Muzuki-san here claims that you lent them books to help with their project. Directly from the Naberius library.”

“I did.”

It took every ounce of control for you not to do a double take, but the smile on your face did drop. He did what?

“I’m sorry?”

“I lent them three books from the family library.” He turned his glare over to Muzuki, “Of which I have yet to receive back.” Muzuki quickly caught onto his meaning and immediately started digging around in their bag producing three books. Each one was wrapped in beautiful leather of varying colours with gold designs embellishing them. It took everything not to drop your jaw at the sight. On the one hand you were glad the books were real ones, on the other hand you now had to apologize for saying they made them up.

Watching the books as they turned slightly you suddenly realized something. A smirk grew on your face. “I see, my apologized Muzuki, for assuming that Kalego-sensei didn’t lend you books about summoning runes. This clearly was-”

“Summoning runes?” Kalego interrupted. You turned your head back to look at him, putting on the most innocently confused face you could muster.

“Why yes, that is of course, what the essay I assigned was on. Or rather more precisely the history of evolution and modern applications and interpretations of summoning runes. We had a slight misunderstanding that they cheated on their essay, since the writing was so different from previous ones and the sources they used were ones I couldn’t find. They’ve assured me that they do exist and that they came from your library. That is the books they asked for from you, is it not? Or at least somewhere along those lines?” You watched with hidden glee as Muzuki froze at your words and Kalego’s sharp eyes trained onto them like a hunting dog before its prey.

Gotcha.

“No,” Kalego drawled out slowly and you saw his eyes glinting with understanding, “it is not. These books are on potions, which has little to do with runes.” Which you knew, because you had read those specific ones before.

“Oh really,” you said, locking your own eyes onto the now terrified student. “What a surprise. Are there any other books they borrowed from you?”

“No.”

You hummed in understanding, slowly getting up to walk around your desk and lean against it with your arms crossed in front of your chest. “Muzuki, I think it would be best if you told the truth now. Don’t you?”

___________________

“An auto pen!” you shrieked as soon as the door shut. Muzuki had spilled everything before being reprimanded by the both you and assigned detentions for the next two weeks. They also had an automatic zero on the paper and considering it was worth 15% of their grade, well things weren’t looking too good in your class for them right now. “A pen that automatically writes essays for them! That does everything for them! If I hadn’t noticed the writing style and checked the sources who knows how many assignments they would have gotten away with! How many others are currently doing it? Delkira above I’m going to have to carefully go over each and every thing they’ve all handed in to me again. Just to make sure others didn’t do it!” You were a snarling mess, teeth bared in anger as you paced back in forth in front of your desk, Kalego sitting calmly on one of the student’s tables as you essentially lost your marbles over this.

“I mean seriously! Why did they think it was ok! It’s not like I asked for much! Three weeks to write 1500 words and they decided to have a stupid pen do it for them! I have so many students out there pouring their heart and soul into these papers, weeks of their time down the drain so that they can get what they feel is the perfect paper. Then people like Muzuki think its ok to wait till the last minute and just have something else do it for them! It makes me want to scream!” In fact you did scream, a small aggravated yell tore from your throat at the end of the sentence, hands thrown in the air.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? I thought you of all people would be spitting fire over…this.” You turned to face him properly as you once again passed right in front of the demon and faltered in what you were saying at the look on his face. To an outsider he would have been completely unrecognizable. His dark eyes were soft as they stared at you and his lips were turned up in a small smile. You felt your heart clench at the look and everything in you melted. Pale fingers reached out the short distance and hooked under your belt, pulling you closer to him so that you were so close you might as well be sharing breath.

His other hand lifted up and caressed the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “I love seeing you like this.” Was all he said as you leaned into the touch.

You couldn’t help the small snort of laughter at the sentence. “What? Angrier than a hydra whose nest had been messed with?”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes in exasperation at you, “No you fool, caring about your students. You treat them like your own younglings most times but never let it stop you from doing what needs to be done. You’re so angry because you care about them and want them to succeed. If Muzuki had actually written that essay, you would probably be throwing around praises like no tomorrow. And I’ll be everything that when you see them next, you’re probably going to have them write an extra credit essay to retain some of that grade. Even if I do think you should let them sink.”

A flush rose to your skin at the feeling of being called out. “That’s because they’re good kids! They’re just a little…misguided in thinking at times. And I wouldn’t do it the next time I saw them! Just maybe… in a week or two…if it seems like they learned their lesson of course.”

“Of course,” He hummed at you, before smirking slyly. “Although that would mean I lose the bet.” He his hand suddenly slid from your cheek to the back of your neck and pulled you forward. Just a hairs breath away from your mouth was his own. “Which means I owe you everything.”

With that he connected your lips and you couldn’t help the sigh that left you. Your arms lifted up and wrapped around his neck, hands lightly playing with the short hairs that ended right above his capelet’s collar. The both of you pulled away after a few seconds and rested your foreheads together. It was rare that Kalego showed such levels of intimacy outside of the walls of your shared home, and you couldn’t help but soak in every second of it.

“I think your everything is a rather acceptable payment.” You grinned at him before going back and giving him another kiss. A rather acceptable payment indeed. 

[fourgods-nobrakes]

A Guide to the Empyrean Tarot [excerpt]

The umbral Major Arcana are outlined in their cardinal orientation below. Attempting to read the Major Arcana in their reversed state is not recommended for novice diviners. Even if one can make sense of the contradictory messages they contain, the backlash from contemplating them can cause severe spontaneous mutation.  

The Many-Masked: Secrets. The inner self. The trusted confidant. Unorthodox solutions. Lies. Confusion. Loneliness. Loss.

The Hierophant: Revelation. Grief. Staying the course. Communication. Passion. Mercuriality. The message rejected. Goals left undone.

The Sacrifice: Brotherhood. Triumph. The scapegoat. Defeat in sight of victory. Pride. Allies lost. Endings. The Long War.

The Scholar: Knowledge. Curiosity. Magic. Confidence. Affability. Hubris. Futility. Unexpected catastrophe. Estrangement.

The Reaper: Determination. Life enduring. Death inescapable. Bitterness. The poisoned chalice. Entropy. The unbreakable.

The Warrior: Resistance. Violence. Scars. Vulnerability hidden. Directness. Choices lost. Bloodshed. Rage. Rage. Rage.

The Judge: Justice. Order. Certainty. Prophecy. Torment. Cruelty. Surrender to fate. Truth at all costs. Revulsion.

The Builder: Caution. Anger. Impatience. Precision. Creation. Duty. The labyrinth. Keeping one's own counsel. Strategy. Ruin.

The Dancer: Grace. Swiftness. Insight. Impetuosity. Performance. The best beloved. The lover spurned. Revelry. Desire. Yearning unsatisfied.

The Realm: Murder. Decay. Mutation. Excess. Death. Honor. Rebirth. Hope. Joy. Death. Blood. Rot. Deceit. Hunger. Death.

The Future: War.

[markscherz]

i'm curious, when people ask you to identify frogs based on a picture, do you just look at it and immediately know which frog it is and the scientific name for it? or do your thoughts go through some sort of flow chart/process of elimination where you consider different aspects of the frog (colour, size, etc.) until you arrive at a conclusion? or is it a mix of both depending on how distinct the frog is (i'm assuming some are easier to identify than others, yeah?). and do you ever have to look it up to double check? either way, i'm very very impressed by your vast expanse of frowledge (frog knowledge) and i'm learning a lot from your blog!

It is a mixture. The first thing you do is see the whole animal, but get few details on the first pass. That can sometimes be enough. Some frogs are pretty instantly identifiable, even without any other information. But after that, things get a bit more deductive. Here, location is key. Knowing where a frog was seen is incredible helpful in narrowing down among the possibilities. Frogs are typically very range-restricted, so location helps me get to a list of possibilities.

Then there are a few more super obvious characters to look for. The 'habitus', i.e. how the frog sits, is important. The relative eye size. The length of the limbs. The fingers and toes, and the presence of webbing between them. Toads are almost always instantly identifiable by the parotid glands. Knowing these kinds of family-features makes things easier.

Colour is tricksy. It is very tempting to rely on colour to get to an ID, but frog colouration is IMMENSELY variable, and some species change dramatically by mood, or time of day, or ambient illumination. People like to use dorsal stripes to identify species, but they are almost always polymorphic (i.e. there are almost always individuals in the population without them). So, beware of colour.

To your last point, I almost always double check. Firstly, it is embarrassing to be wrong, and I hope that I lack the hubris to assume I am always right when it comes to these identifications (not least because I am really specialised on Madagascar, and the rest of the world's frogs are still comparatively unfamiliar to me). Secondly, I may have a rather broad overview of frog diversity, but I am far from a global expert, and there is always a chance that there are frogs that could be confused with a given one, of which I am not aware. I really want to fight the misinformation, so I try to only give species identifications if I can do so confidently, or otherwise couch my identification with caveats.

[pallastrology]

jupiter vs. saturn: aries

jupiter

jupiter in aries is more enthusiastic. the native seems to have limitless self-esteem, and life often looks and feels like a great adventure to them. they are energetic, enterprising and bursting with pride and excitement about themselves, and their place in the world. they see life as something to be explored and fought, and jupiter in aries is determined to win.

they are more reckless. their infectious enthusiasm for life is a beautiful thing to be around indeed, but it can be their downfall at times. prone to hubris and impulsivity, the native may find themselves in a hole of their own digging. they can miss details and overestimate themselves sometimes, bringing their big ideas crumbling around their ears. luckily, their unstoppable lust for life tends to stand them straight back up to try again.

they are warmer. as i said, jupiter in aries’ passion for life is infectious, and it makes for a warm, lively individual with larger-than-life plans and the confidence to actually chase them. they are natural motivational speakers and can inspire others, both to work with the native or under their own belt, to go after what really matters to them and live life fully.

saturn

saturn in aries is more conflicted. this is not an easy placement to live with, as saturn is so uncomfortable here. its influence creates tension and conflict, making it easy for self-doubt and confusion to kick in. the native is often risk-averse and nervous, unsure of their abilities and easily demoralised by the rigours of life.

they are more restrained. saturn in aries lacks the big, bold impulses that jupiter thrives off; the native is cautious and quite restricted, especially early on in life, when it comes to being independent and taking steps forward. they often spend a long time floundering and unhappily working under others until they come into their power later on in life. even once they find it, they are always more reserved than you’d expect of an aries placement.

they are more of a lone wolf. the native, though not very self-actualised, is often happiest alone. they don’t tend to enjoy partnering up when it comes to business, preferring the perceived simplicity of self-employment and working independently. again, this trait mellows out with age, and often shows a slightly different take, in that saturn in aries makes for a great leader in later life; but they do retain that lone wolf outlook on the world.

both

both placements are self-directed. you see two sides of it with the two placements; with jupiter, we see an unstoppable force that blasts its way through life without a care in the world; with saturn, we see a lone ranger that cautiously stalks its way through the world, always covering its tracks and keeping an eye out for trouble. both placements thrive when they can work with themselves, rather than having the noise of other people and systems keeping them busy.

they both have great capacity for leadership and respect. especially with age and wisdom, when jupiter has calmed down and developed hindsight, and saturn has met their challenges and built up confidence, both placements make brilliant leaders. they don’t need other people to work with, but they can appreciate different perspectives and connections and the value they bring, both to professional and personal relationships.

both placements are strong. jupiter can sometimes look unbreakable, but they take a lot of hits throughout their journey, and they have to learn to roll with the punches and take a step back when needed, as well as to embrace vulnerability from time to time. saturn has to shed the weight they carry on their shoulders and build themselves up from scratch. nether of these are easy things to do, and it takes time to develop these skills. they are both strong placements with great potential for learning and adaptation.

they both value freedom and independence very highly. stifle jupiter and you’ll see them deflate, their ideas rotting away like apple cores. they need to be constantly moving and growing, and sometimes need to do it alone. the same applies to saturn, in that they are hard workers who need to be working and constructing themselves every day. if they’re left structureless they tend to crumble, but too much and they have no space to breathe or adapt. it’s vital that these placements have the freedom to carry on.

[loreleismusings99]

Two-Body Problem

Mark Watney x reader

Grad School AU, (academic) rivals to ??????

No use of y/n

[Masterlist]

Not Beta-read, we die like Spirit and Opportunity.

CW: networking, Inaccurate depictions of organic chemistry, probably riddled with typos, but that's all I can think of. Please please please let me know if I missed anything and I'll add it to the top of the list

The reader and Mark are both PhD candidates at Northwestern and both happen to be GTAs for an o-chem/bio-chemistry class. They schedule and meet up on neutral ground(a library) to get some grading done together and some unexpected feelings creep in.

AN: This is the first fanfic I've ever written; critique is always welcome and encouraged, but, uh, perhaps manage your expectations? Idk 😅 I'm not the best when it comes to creative writing, but there's a criminally low amount of fic for The Martian and even fewer fic centered around Mark imo. I might continue this into something more, if there's demand and if I've the energy and motivation 🤷🏾

Alright, I'll stop trying to lamp-shade; Enjoy, and thanks for taking the time out of your day to read this 💚💚💚

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Wanna��meet up to put a dent in the pile of grading I know you also have? 

The two of you exchanged numbers at the beginning of fall quarter out of politeness, but it was still surprising to see the notification from Mark’s text. 

Leaning back in your chair, you considered your options, the soft sensor schematic in front of you now fully abandoned after an hour of rearranging thermocouples and resistors trying to alleviate a stubborn inductive noise problem.

Mark had been a thorn in your proverbial side since the day you met him; well, night, to be exact—your blood begins to boil at the memory. You were engaged in cordial and calculated banter with a researcher working in a lab you were gunning for before being interrupted by someone exclaiming “Dr. Hernandez!” to your left. You blinked and the fragile connection you just began to form had crumbled as the attention of the faculty member in question whirled to the side and greeted a stocky and stubbly man who Dr. Hernandez introduced to you as “Mark Watney, one of my PhD students!” This confused you since his name tag clearly said, Plant Bio and Conservation and this was a mixer in the electrical and computer engineering department; “I’m working with him and a faculty member in my own department on developing novel ways of monitoring soil properties in areas in Illinois hardest hit by industrial runoff” Mark says with a smile that oozes levels of confidence and hubris only considerable privilege can spawn. He gives you a quick glance before saying, “which actually reminds me-” and steering Dr. Hernandez away from you. Now, this certainly stung, but it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t get over. No, what made this a problem was Mark’s uncanny ability to draw the room’s attention to him and his work, making it a just a tad difficult to properly network without having to entertain talk and conversation surrounding the department’s charismatic new wunderkind apparent. This combined with quite publicly challenging a design of yours for a class you two shared had firmly placed Mark in your list of worst enemies. Which, admittedly, might be a bit dramatic, but after some quippy and well worded critiques and suggestions to optimize a C++ script he’d written for the same class it seemed you’d made your way onto his hit list too, if department gossip had any veracity to it—so at least the feeling was mutual.

Which brings you back to your confusion at this new development in your communication with him; Mark hadn’t exactly jumped for joy when, in some sick reversal of the infamous two-body problem, the two of you got hired as TAs for the same introductory o-chem class. You exchanged numbers, but neither reached out to the other to host joint office hours, or to work together to get through the ever-growing pile of completed homework assignments that you two need to finish grading—in fact, this is the first time either of you texted the other since the first text you sent confirming your number as yours. Staring at your phone’s screen you weighed the pros and cons of saying yes; on the one hand, it’ll help the two of you get ahead on the imposing pile of work that had accumulated just in the first 2 and a half weeks of the quarter. On the other hand, it meant that you’d have to breathe the same air as your infuriatingly handsome nemesis for longer than you were required to. Not that he was your type. Absolutely not. He just… had an objectively strong jawline…. Choosing not to think too hard about that and reasoning that getting grading done was more important than your pride, you typed out a curt sure. See you at Galter in an hour? And waited for his equally as curt sounds good before getting up to go change out of your comfy, at-home garb and head out the door with your half of the grading pile and your laptop tucked away into your backpack.

You’re chewing the last bite of a pop tart you got, realizing you unfortunately forgot to eat dinner before leaving, and scrolling through Instagram when Mark walks through the glass doors leading into the Galter Health Sciences Library. Under a mild windbreaker, he’s wearing what’s presumably a band t-shirt but with a worn-out and unrecognizable logo tucked into his cuffed light wash jeans. He"s carrying a clearly well-loved canvas satchel with a Cubs patch sewn onto the front. His hair was artfully tousled as he ran a hand through it while he looked for you in the spattering of students who occupied the library at minutes to 9 on a Friday evening. When his eyes finally land on you, he looks taken aback, the carefree look wiped off his face for a moment before he smirks at you through an obviously clenched jaw. “Glad you didn’t decide to stand me up. You reserve a conference room?” You returned his tension-filled smirk with a smile resembling a sneer and responded, “Of course. We’re on the second floor.” You stood up from your seat and started walking in the direction of the staircase, looking behind you to make sure he was following you only to find him in the middle of a light jog to position himself on your right side.

“So, how’s the dissertation writing going?” he asks over his shoulder. Scoffing, you respond with an incredulous “How’s yours?”, hoping he pics up on your clear annoyance at being asked that dreaded question yet again. Wincing at your retort of a question, he concedes with a “Fair enough” And the two of you are plunged back into the awkward silence that permeates the sparsely populated library.

after finally finding the room you reserved(the library is like a maze, capable of ensnaring even the most seasoned of academics), you shuffle into the study room together and set up your computers and piles of homework to be graded before settling into a serene flow with Mark working quietly beside you.

after about thirty minutes, you look over to Mark’s pile and notice that his “complete” pile is, unfortunately, larger than yours, which ignites a spark of competition in you. You start to try to work through your pile faster and Mark seems to pick up on your haste.“Worried about falling behind?” he scoffs with a shit-eating grin, clasping his hands together in front of his mouth. “Oh, not in the slightest; just trying to optimize my time, I've more work to get back to, you know.” you say, smirking back at him but with a glint in your eye, tacitly challenging him to try to get through his pile before you get through yours.

The two of you actually make some substantial progress in both of your piles before you encounter one of the more difficult homework assignments your students have been assigned. You’re stumped by the multi-part problem at the top of the page, trying unsuccessfully to follow the student’s work in front of you.

“... You on homework 15 yet?”

“Yep.” you nod.

“... You have any idea what Dr. C is asking them to do?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright, just checking.”

Mark sits back in his chair with a thud and runs a hand down his face. you stand from your seat and move to the small whiteboard on the wall opposite where you were sitting and start to list out the knowns and unknowns in the problem statement. You can feel Mark’s eyes on you the entire time, following along with your work and your movements as you draw out the reaction being described in the first part of the problem. You get stumped at the end of the problem, trying to piece together the end products of the reaction. You hear Mark shift behind you before turning around to see him walking toward the whiteboard to silently walk himself through your work, nodding at each step you took. He picks up a marker and starts adding onto where you were stumped and you watch intently, absorbing what he’s writing. As he finishes the problem, you get the chance to actually get a look at him while he’s working; he furrows his eyebrows and you notice a small crease he gets between his eyebrows as they cinch together, and the faint spattering of freckles across his nose becomes apparent with how close he is to you now. God, he is so close-"that should be it? I think?" He looks to you with an indiscernible look in his eye; first, a hint of shock as his eyes widen--looks like he noticed how close you are too-- then something else you can't quite identify. It takes more effort than your willing to admit, but you eventually tear your eyes away from his and look at his work on the board. It all makes sense, you also note how messily he draws his diagrams of the assortment of carboxyl groups created by the process at the center of the problem(and it also takes everything within you not to smile at that, thinking to yourself, when did this start feeling nice???). "It, uh, it looks all good to me. And the rest should follow from this too." you utter awkwardly and turn to face him again. "Yeah?" His state of mind is still elusive to you, and he responds with an almost dazed sounding "Yeah."

The moment doesn't last for long though, as a soft knock sounds at the door, startling you both out of your joint reverie. "Hey, you guys are the TAs for o-chem this quarter, right? Do you have time to talk about the homework due tomorrow?" The two of you exchange a glance and invite the exhausted looking undergrad into the alcove.

After helping your wayward student, the two of you start packing up your now completed piles of grading in silence, the awkward air from the beginning of the night settling back in now that the distraction from grading was gone. The two of you are about to part ways at the entrance of the library when Mark stops you with a "hey," and says,"uh, so, I know we have this…whatever this is? Between us" He gestures chaotically back and forth in the space between you, and you raise an eyebrow at him. "But this is the most work I've gotten done in one sitting in a while. Would you, uh, like to do this again? Maybe? But at more reasonable hour?" Mark takes a defensive steps back, and this throws you off for a multitude of reasons. One, Mark is acting nervous, which is something you've had the pleasure of witnessing mabe once in your time being around him. Two, he seems to be genuinely asking spend more time with you. And, to be honest, after the silence between the two of you was broken, that was also the most productive you've been in a while. And it probably wouldn't hurt to actually collaborate with him instead of trying to compete with him. Just as you began to fear you were taking too long to respond, Mark pulls his hands out of his pockets and puts them up in the universal "I'm harmless" pose, "you don't have to, I just thought I'd ask-" "sure." You cut him off before he can try to answer his question for you. He looks at you with what can only be described as gleeful shimmer in his eyes and smirked again; this time, though, it didn't have his usual venom behind it. "Yeah?" He asks hopefully. "Yeah." You smile in return, it reaching your eyes this time.

[dozyrosyposeypie]

"I am Alone," cried Mara, sadly. “No. You're not. You may walk with me,” spoke Rosy, and softly took her sister’s hand.

“Really? ...Okay,” said Mara, meekly.

As they walked, Rosy thought of something she felt ought to be said aloud: “Thank you, Mara.”

“For what?” Mara replied with Confusion.

“For being there with me when no One else was.”

“But… wasn’t I very big?”

“You were.”

“And… wasn’t I very scary?”

“You were.”

“Then why thank me?”

“Because, for every time you were very big and Doubt told me I’d never be enough to ‘overcome’ you, I realized I didn’t need to. You were just big enough for me to recognize my Self in. I don’t know if I’d have recognized my Self if you were any smaller,” Rosy explained. “Oh?” Mara cocked her head, curiously.

“And,” Rosy continued, “for every time you were very scary and Hubris told me I’d grown enough to ‘defeat’ you, I realized I didn’t want to. You were just scary enough for me to remind my Self there was still room to grow. I don’t think I’d have reminded my Self if you were any less scary.” “Oh!” Mara exclaimed, slightly astonished but also feeling Loved. “Well, then… you are very welcome!”

Then Mara paused in silence and asked Rosy something that’d been sitting on her mind since they first met: “Is Love is my Mother, then?” she asked.

“Most certainly! And Fear is my Father,” Rosy agreed with a smile.

“Yin,” said Mara, confidently.

“Yang,” said Rosy, humbly.

Together they agreed, “We are One!”

And together they walked, with both Mindful Love and Knowing Fear, hand-in-hand back into the Unknown.

[happyk44]

They think he doesn't understand things but he does. He understands intentions, stances, faces. The noises that come out of their mouths are unintelligible most of the time but he understands some of it. Like when Reyna says, "Dinner" or someone else screams, "Stop." Short fragments. Anything more, anything too long, doesn't make sense. It blurs together, foreign to his ear.

He does understand things. Understands why Reyna is shaking and crying, held back by other people. Jason would dart forward and snap at them, he'd bite down until they let her go, until the tears vanished from her cheeks, but he's pinned in place by the weight of other people's magic.

It won't hold him for long, it never does.

He yearns for the taste of blood on his tongue, the sink of flesh into his teeth.

He understands why the man is there. Dressed in black and looking dangerous. The man is sharp along the edges, tall and imposing. When he arrives in a corral of shadows, everyone cowers.

Jason only growls loud and fights back against his bonds. The storm in his body is pushing back.

People speak. It flows together, a stream of noise Jason doesn't recognize. The man turns to him. He's pale. Haunted by the darkness sat on his skin. He approaches with such confidence Jason stops fighting. Confused.

Everyone is timid to get near him. Even Reyna is cautious. Hesitant in her worry that he'll change his mind on how much he tolerates her. He has in the past. When so staunchly bothered by other people, he wants no one around.

This man isn't like that.

He squats to Jason's height and regards with him brief amusement. No fear, no concern.

Jason hates that.

He snaps and growls loud. A warning the man pays no mind to. Instead he reaches out to cup Jason's face and finds his hand bitten for his hubris.

He only laughs.

It's so shocking that Jason drops the limb from his mouth. But quickly steels himself and snarls loud, once more fighting back against the bonds keeping him pinned to his knees. This man thinks him no better than a rambunctious pup? Jason will show him - he's a full grown wolf, adult in his ways.

Hasn't been a pup in years.

The man is there to kill him. The man is there for a fight. He'll get one. Jason hasn't lost a fight since before his legs were strong, since before he grew into his canines.

He'll win.

He licks the blood from his teeth.

The man merely smiles. It's frightening, almost predatory. Shivers light up Jason's spine. He'd rise to his haunches if he could. Little bit little he feels the bonds against h breaking with the strength of his determination.

The man rises to his feet. There are words flowing again. He pays them no mind. The man's voice is languid, calm but powerful. The other's are insistent, urged with whatever they want from him. But Reyna is frozen, no longer crying.

Something else written on her face - shock? Confusion? Hope?

The bonds snap. Jason is gone before they can notice. The air carries him, winds up his speed until he's careening into the man, a crackling storm. Jason slams into him, like a boulder

The man doesn't budge. Merely glances down where Jason has crashed into the floor. He snaps his fingers. Shadowy tendrils rip from the dark of the earth and latch onto Jason's skin, binding him flat on his back.

Belly exposed.

He screams. He howls. He fights.

He'll fight until his last breath.

The man ignores him. More words flow. Jason breaks free and claws at his arm, shredding his clothes to make way to skin. People startle but the man is unbothered. He doesn't even bother restraining Jason this time.

Just allows him to bite and scratch, where he sees fit. He blocks his jugular with the same shadowy tendrils, pulling back on Jason's jaw when he gets too close.

Otherwise he doesn't care.

Just continues to speak like Jason isn't there.

It deflates something in him. Other people would be crying, screaming, running away by now. Most would be dead. But this man is stagnant, like a puddle of water one should never touch. Dangerous. Deadly.

Jason shrinks back.

The fire in his chest hasn't deflated but he's unsure of his next steps. His instincts are clashing against one another. He freezes when Reyna quickly runs forward. She wipes the wetness from her face. Bows her head slightly. When she speaks, she speaks slower for Jason's benefit. But he doesn't understand the words.

The man glances down at Jason then nods at Reyna. Her shoulders relax.

Jason relaxes in turn

Reyna is a wary spot for him. He trusts her in the same way one would trust a squirrel to lead them to storage. A bird at sea. It's begrudging. Tentative. But she rarely does him wrong.

So he relaxes.

She was distressed at his death. She's calmed now.

He must be fine, safe. For whatever reason, this man doesn't want to kill him, even though, but the faces of everyone else, they want him too.

They've wanted him to since the wolves abandoned him here.

Reyna approaches slow and cautious, kneeling to where Jason is sat back on the tips of his toes, ready to spring and kill at a breath's notice.

She speaks slow. It's hard. He doesn't know if she knows he doesn't understand words. He gruffs and glares. She frowns and starts over, breaking down into fragments.

"Jason." She prods his chest with a finger. "You." She reiterates with another prod. "Leave." He understands that one. Time to leave is a phrase he knows well, spoken to him by Lupa, by the wolves, before they threw him away. Spoken to him by people who slap a muzzle across his face and call it safety before they drag him back and forth across the plains. "Pluto."

Pluto.

Pluto. He knows that name.

Reyna points behind her, at the man watching the two of them. Jason blinks at him. Pluto.

She repeats the words a couple more times before Jason nods. He understands. This man, Pluto, is taking him. He doesn't know why. But Reyna seems relieved. It must not be a bad thing. But the idea of leaving again, advancing somewhere new... It draws him in tight and leaves him baring his teeth.

He bites his own hand and growls.

Reyna shakes her head.

He relaxes again. Just a bit.

As Reyna stands, so does he, and when she steps aside, he doesn't follow, eyes tracked on the man before him. Everyone is reluctant. They regard him with wide eyes and tight grips on the hilts of their weapons. But the man merely reaches across for Jason. He steps forward.

A pool of shadows forms on the ground. It breathes cold and haunting. A shrill sound echoes briefly from it. The man steps inside. His feet submerged. Nothing happens to him and Jason approaches further. He sniffs the air around it. It's bitter. The scent of death.

Oh.

That Pluto.

He growls. Pluto snaps his fingers. Tendrils erupt from the pool and latch across Jason's chest and back in an X-like fashion, a long stretch attached to Pluto's fist.

A leash.

Jason hasn't had a leash since he first arrived. When they kept him locked to the walls when there was no one around to watch him. When he was too much to handle.

But this one isn't like theirs, with its metal chains and unyielding dig into his skin. It's colder to the touch, but moves as he moves and dispels when he smacks at it.

Amusement sits in the crevices of Pluto's smile. He is unbothered by Jason's reluctance.

He is waiting for Jason to come.

The leash is to remind him, not restrain him. It does not pull him close but keeps him from running back. Jason looks over his shoulder. Reyna's eyes are wet again. Her lips are wobbling.

She explained sadness to him once. He didn't really understand it. But he sees it reflected in her face.

He jerks his chin to her. Pluto follows his line of motion. Nods as the leash slacks. Jason shifts backwards until he can feel her breath against his face, instead of a phantom in the air he feels brushing against his skin, and knocks his chin to her cheek. He rumbles low and nips her ear. She pinches the inside of his wrist.

He pulls back. States unwavering at her eyes. She matches him, gaze for gaze. Normally he'd be enraged, but with her, it's different. She never wants to fight him.

She matches his gaze in kindness. Not as a threat.

He chuffs and knocks his face into hers one more time. Her scent is memorized in his nose, floral and sweaty. He presses in just a little deeper, lets her wrap her arms around him in a stiff grip before she lets go.

Then he turns back to Pluto and the descent that awaits him.

[kozh-lucium]

Spoiler about Gale's quest (and Mystra): an understanding (?)

I've reached the part in Gale's personal quest where he needs to speak with her. I save and reload so many times just to see all the outcomes.

(Fun fact: if we met her first before doing his act 3 romance scene, we get a slightly different scene)

To my main point; I think I get it now why so many people outside of tumblr and twitter say, either: Gale is the abusive one in their (Gale and Mystra) relationship, or the relationship isn't toxic to begin with and Gale's character arc is purely about his hubris (instead of him being a victim of toxic relationship).

I was saving his personal quest for the last, so I've been marathoning resolving other companions quest first. Compared to the likes of Mizora, Vlakiith, Shar, and Cazador, Mystra is.... pretty mild. She doesn't hurt Gale, she speak to him without too much condescension, she easily offers him the solution for his orb.

Sure you can raise your eyebrows at that and think "Why don't you do that from the start then". But we can also contribute it as "that's just how god/goddess do". We know that even the good-aligned gods are forbidden by AO to directly interfere with mortals and they do have the tendency to look only the big picture.

There's also the issue of when exactly did Gale come in contact with Mystra directly. If we use canon timeline (both from Larian and WoTC), Mystra was a bear until 5 years prior to the start of the game (when Elminster restored her power). That's a pretty short time to go from mentor/muse to a lover. Not to mention that Gale spend at least 1 year being cut off from Mystra before getting kidnaped. So, I can see why some rejects "Gale is groomed" theory (which, yes, unfortunately despite my feeling, it remains a theory since we never see how Mystra treat Gale before the orb accident).

To be quite honest, in my opinion Gale's Act 3 writing is a tad confusing. I understand that they (probably) want to convey that, yes Mystra is abusive, but Gale is at fault too (his hubris and low self-confidence). However in the game it came out as unbalanced, since it focused more on his flaws. One thing I noticed, the other companions reaction to Gale and Mystra. With Astarion (or SH/ Laezel), for example, the comments made pretty clear that the situation is fucked up and Cazador (or Shar/Vlakiith) is the villain. Meanwhile with Gale, the only companion who has the insight to the situation is Minsc. The others only speak about how they trust Mystra more than Gale about the crown.

That being said, I actually quite like how we get to reality-checked Gale about his hubris (as much as I love him, he is being a jerk since the start of act 3). But this also means I have to see people's take on why Gale is "the abuser" in his and Mystra relationship.

[emi-writings]

Wilbur Soot had never been a man of faith.

Wilbur Soot had never been a man of faith.

It wasn’t out of disbelief in the gods, nor disrespect in them and their power. It had been his own hubris, the confidence that being a child of the Goddess of Death would protect him from any harm. Why should he worship the gods when their blood runs through his veins? But after suffering in Limbo, Wilbur realized why his father worshiped his wife with such devotion. The divine blood in him didn’t cancel out his humanity, and humans were at the mercy of the gods whether they were alive or dead.

So, Wilbur fell back onto the lessons he had been taught as a child and decided to set up a shrine. It was a small one, setup not too far from his burger van, but out of the way enough to not be disturbed by trespassers. Tommy and Ranboo had noticed him gathering materials, but neither of them said anything. Wilbur had no idea what Ranboo believed in – if he worshipped any deity at all – but Wilbur knew Tommy was completely devoted to Church Prime, and he didn’t really want to get into intense discussions about differing religions with his younger brother.

His shrine was a humble one, compared to the temples and altars he had seen dedicated to his mother. But he had a small statue of her, one his father had given him many years ago. Beside the statue were two lilies of the valley, her sacred flower. The altar cloth had her emblem on embodied into it – a symbol that looked like a heart. In font of the statue were three offering bowls Wilbur had gathered, where he left perishable offerings to the goddess. There were other decorations on the alter – jewelry he offered to her, black candles crow statues (her sacred animal), and other small things. Wilbur even wore a pendent with the goddess’s emblem as a sign of his devotion.

“What the fuck is this?”

Wilbur whipped around to the voice. Quackity stood in the entrance to his shrine, wearing a mask of shock and uncertainty at the display in front of him. Wilbur sighed loudly at that, and ran a hand through his hair in a way to calm himself from the headache he was certain would follow whatever conversation he was about to get dragged into.

“Can I help you, Quackity?” Wilbur asked.

“Tommy said something about you sneaking off somewhere with materials and he was concerned, so I offered to look for you” Quackity answered, “I was suspicious, but now I’m just confused.”

“What is there to be confused by?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow at the other.

Quackity gave a slight huff, “I didn’t know you were a religious man.”

“What can I say, death has inspired faith in me” Wilbur replied, “What about you, Quackity? Has anything out there earned your reverence?”

“The kind of worship I get into isn’t the religious kind” Quackity smirked.

“What did I expect from the man who runs a city of sin? Whatever, I won’t try and force anything on you. I came here to pray, not to preach” Wilbur continued.

Wilbur turned back to his altar, a moment of silence followed after. But despite everything, the silence couldn't last forever. Not when the two of them shared the same air, the same space.

“This isn’t Prime, isn’t it?” Quackity commented.

Wilbur shook his head, “No, it’s Lady Death. The Goddess of Death isn’t as popular around these parts, but where I grew up there were plenty of devotees. I was literally raised in her temples when Phil was too busy with whatever he got up to.”

“I’m surprised you can worship anything after you’ve died” Quackity stepped closer as admired the shrine, “I would have been pissed. How doesn’t that shake your belief?”

“Because I’ve seen what happens to you when you don’t have faith. And I refuse to suffer through that again” Wilbur answered.

That left an uncomfortable silence, and Wilbur felt exposed in a sense – like a child who had clung onto toy he was far too old for. He turned his attention back to the shrine, which only made him feel more immature as he tried to hide from his problems. Quackity didn’t comment further, he just admired the shrine further. Wilbur was surprised he hadn’t taken advantage of the vulnerability he expressed; it had been a prime opportunity offered on a silver platter. Instead, the avian just left it to rot.

“It looks nice” Quackity said, voice soft.

Wilbur turned his head towards him, “What?”

“Your shrine. It looks nice” Quackity repeated.

“Thank you” Wilbur replied with slight hesitation.

“I should probably head back and let Tommy know that you aren’t getting yourself into trouble” Quackity stated, “I’m not going to ban any religious practices outside of my city, so I can’t really get mad at you. I guess I’ll see you around, Wilbur.”

With that, Quackity slowly turned and made his way towards the exit. Wilbur felt conflicted at that, he enjoyed having his private and all to himself, but he wanted Quackity to stay. Quackity’s company made him feel alive, more human where everyone else made him feel like a thing. He made Wilbur warm, where everyone else made him feel cold and frigid. He knew it was a stupid idea, and yet Wilbur found himself reaching out as Quackity went to leave.

“Wait.”

Quackity turned, “Yeah, what?”

“Could you help me with something?” Wilbur asked, unable to truly make eye contact, “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I just thought… never mind. You probably don’t—”

“Tell me what the favor is first, and then I’ll decide” Quackity interrupted, “But just so you know, I really don’t know much about the Goddess of Death’s faith, so I might not be much help.”

“It’s just a ritual to dedicate myself to Lady Death. I know all the words I need to say and everything, it’s just that it would be easier for someone to do the anointing for me” Wilbur explained, “If you’re not comfortable with it, I can do it myself.”

Quackity nodded, “If you have a diagram, I can handle it. Though I am surprised you didn’t just have Tommy do this for you.”

Rather than answer that question directly, Wilbur instead rummaged through his books until he found a specific one. He flicked through the pages until he found the diagram Quackity would need to follow and passed the book over. Quackity looked at the diagram for a moment, and then his face slowly gained a red tint as he realized the implications of what he looked at. Wilbur tried to fight down his own blush and hoped it was much more successful then Quackity’s own attempts.

“If you’re uncomfortable with it, you really don’t have to” Wilbur repeated.

“It’s fine, it’s not like it’s sexual or anything… right?” Quackity asked as he looked up at Wilbur.

“No, definitely not. If it was, I wouldn’t be doing it in dedication to my mother” Wilbur felt a gross feeling settle in his stomach at that thought.

Quackity looked confused before he brushed it off, “Right. Anyway, I can handle it. You just do what you got to do, and I’ll handle the whole… anointing thing.”

“Right. Okay. Let’s do it” Wilbur said.

Wilbur took a deep breath to give himself courage, walked over to lock the entrance to his personal shrine, and slowly started to remove his clothing. Quackity took great interest in the book before him, a transparent attempt to avoid looking at Wilbur as he undressed himself. The ritual was traditionally done skyclad, and while Wilbur hadn’t had a problem with that before, now that he had roped Quackity into helping him, he was suddenly very aware of that fact.

“Are you ready?” Wilbur asked.

Quackity looked directly into his eyes, “I am. You?”

Wilbur nodded, before he started the prayer, “I am a child of the goddess, and I ask her to bless me.”

Quackity dipped his finger into the blessing oil, and Wilbur closed his eyes as Quackity anointed his forehead by tracing the heart emblem onto his skin.

As he felt the heart emblem take shape, Wilbur continued his prayer, “May my mind be blessed, so that I can accept the wisdom of the goddess.”

Quackity’s fingers anointed the eyelids with surprising gentleness, “May my eyes be blessed, so I can see my way clearly upon this path.”

An almost playful touch to nose had Wilbur fighting a smile, “May my nose be blessed, so I can breathe in the essence of all that is the goddess.”

Wilbur’s breath hitched as Quackity traced his lips, “May my lips be blessed, so I may always speak with honor and respect.”

There was a long pause for a moment, as Quackity gathered more blessing oil for the patterns to anoint Wilbur’s chest, “May my heart be blessed, so I may love and be loved.”

Quackity moved his hands, before gently anointing the tops of them, “May my hands be blessed, so that I may use them to heal and help others.”

Wilbur felt his face burn as Quackity’s hands moved down, though they passed anywhere inappropriate and went to anoint his feet, “May my feet be blessed, so that I may walk side by side with the goddess.”

Wilbur heard Quackity shift and back away. With the oil having already started to dry up, Wilbur was able to open his eyes and turn his attention back to his shrine, “Tonight, I pledge my dedication to my mother, the Goddess of Death. I will walk with her beside me and ask her to guide me on this journey. I pledge to honor her and ask that she will allow me to grow closer to her. As I will it, so it shall be.”

“So, that’s it, right?” Quackity asked.

“Yes. It’s done,” Wilbur replied, as he gathered his clothes.

“I kind of expected this to get a little more flirty” Quackity admitted.

“Ew. Not in front of my mother’s shrine” Wilbur grimaced, “I don’t know if she can see or hear this, but that’s still not something I want to get involved in.”

“Okay, is the mother thing like a title all her followers use or something? Because you’re kind of making it weird” Quackity asked.

Wilbur sighed, “No. Long story short, my father met a god and wifed her, and she gave him wings as a wedding gift. And when an angel and a goddess love each other very much, you get me.”

Quackity was stunned for a moment, “What?”

“Again, it’s a long story.”

“So, you’re, what, a demigod? Wait, your father’s an angel – what’s a half-god, half-angel?” Quackity questioned.

“Well, my mother was in a human form at the time, so I don’t really know how much divine blood I actually have in me? I don’t know how it works out at all; I’ve just stopped questioning it at this point” Wilbur said, “Can we have this conversation later? Preferably a time when I hadn’t just completed a dedication ritual skyclad.”

“I think things about you are starting to add up in very weird way, Wilbur Soot.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, tugging his clothes on swiftly, “Look, I got some weird shit going on, not going to lie. I age differently. I’m pretty resistant all things considered. But as far as I know, I’m human.”

Quackity shrugged, “Sounds like a demigod to me.”

Wilbur wasn’t sure if he should be exasperated or amused by the other’s insistence. Perhaps he needed a bit more faith, but he doubted his mother had left him with a gift quite as valuable as divinity. To be worthy of devotion sounded wonderful, but Wilbur wasn’t convinced that the future held that for him.  No, he had little faith that the cards were in his favor.

But Wilbur didn’t feel so bad about that. Because the way that Quackity looked at him sometimes made him feel divine. The other had always been what kept his fire burning. And for Wilbur, that was more than enough.

“I guess we will see.”

[soullessjack]

Happy Friday! Discuss a fun trait of Jack’s, maybe his smoldering hubris during AU earth war? -shal

hi shal!!!!!!! 😙😙😙😙😙😙 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

so i think it’s very interesting how jack has that angelic trademark tendency for hubris in spite of their humanness canonically being the “dominant gene,” or so to speak, because despite having that tendency for hubris, jack still isn’t downright egotistical like chuck or lucifer or anyone else on that side of the family. he’s just overly confident sometimes.

ive found that a lot of his hubris tends to be expressed the most in situations where he’s trying to fulfill a certain role or purpose or gain acceptance/validation from other people; trying to be a protective leader in Apocalypse World, showing the sheriff how he can tamper with the vending machines, teaching the Lebanon Kids how to throw angel blades, etc.

He loves to show off and impress people, and positive feedback pretty much reinforces a positive self image for him, because jack basically throws his entire identity into what he’s most useful for in the current situation, and once he’s made up his mind about a plan to enact for that purpose, he won’t let anyone stop him—even if it’s his own friends or family.

I’ve already said it, but hear it again anyways. Jack is entirely fully aware of his powers and threat level. They’ve been aware of it since the moment with Sam in the motel alley where he tells them “We need to protect you, but we might also need to protect other people from you.” It’s an extremely clashing and confusing dichotomy to stick an even more confused teenager into, because now Jack has to balance out being useful with being safe, too. He has to balance the idea that while he isn’t inherently evil, he’s still extremely potentially harmful to the world around him (which is an additionally confusing idea to balance bc Jack has only ever felt a genuine curiosity about the world more than anything).

I think the core difference between Jack’s hubris and the hubris of other celestial beings is that Jack is more human than they are, both biologically and socially. Jack knows the incredible power and danger he poses, and even further down he knows it comes from an inherently evil place, but their determination to make the best out of the absolute worst drives them to use that potential for good; for protection, for defense, for healing, etc.

He places immense value on a plethora of human things (“I’m getting that life isn’t about all these big things / it’s time together that matters” ) due to Kelly’s initial influence, and then TFW’s later on. So unlike Chuck and Lucifer and Michael and the other cosmic Kardashians, who see no value in humanity altogether (or in Chuck’s case, see no value when it can’t be attributed to themselves), Jack places all of the value of his powers on how much he can protect all of the things/people he’s come to value and love, which then falls in line to how his hubris is driven.

This post is getting too long but as a final tack on, it also helps that the cosmic family’s displays of power and confidence are to invoke fear, respect and blind loyalty, whereas Jack’s is to invoke acceptance, trust and prove his worth

:3

[owmylasagna-blog]

In the time I was away from eds stuff I latched onto a new bit of media called Dimension 20: Fantasy High. It’s a DnD series played by comedians and DMd by Brennan Lee Mulligan because yes I am also that kind of nerd. But I couldn’t help but create crossovers in my mind because that's what my mind likes to do so… Yeah. Major spoilers for D20 below duh in case anyone cares:

For context, Fantasy High as a series is if you took a DnD campaign and had it directed by John Hughes. It follows 6 party members who are high school students at an adventuring academy casually saving the world, trying to pass classes, and dealing with messy family drama, dating, and popularity. No biggy.

Ed is so so Gorgug Thistlespring. Or should I say Gorgug is Ed if he was a half-orc adopted by delightful tinkering gnomes. While he starts out as a berserker barbarian, smashing recklessly and raging through battles, his determination to help his friends leads him to become a proficient tinkerer. In the latest seasons he multiclasses with artificer (I have such a soft spot for the artificer class you don't even know!). His character is not meant to be especially bright but Zach who plays him is incredibly perceptive and good at reading the DM that multiple times he is the one to solve mysteries in off-handed comments way before anyone else figures it out. He’s tall, clumsy, easily confused, a -1 to intelligence. He has size 18 shoes. His plot in the most recent season was literally about him pushing against peoples’ expectations of him, his teachers not believing in his potential to succeed. He delightfully and sometimes ragefully proves otherwise. Gorgug rocks.

Eddy and Edd were a little harder to pin down as well as Ed but I’d say Edd’s closest comparison would be Adaine and Eddy is maybe Fabian.

Adaine is a high-elf wizard with literally the worst family ever. They suck so much. Luckily she finds a new family in her friends and her former guidance counselor turned adoptive father werewolf Jawbone. She has an anxiety disorder that gives her panic attacks. She has an emotional support familiar that is the roundest frog ever. She’s a perfectionist that fears loss of control and worries that her anxiety prevents her from acting when it matters most. The reason she even meets the rest of her party is because she failed the entrance exam to the fancy wizarding school and she, her parents, and her older sister won’t let her forget it. Adaine is equal parts smarts and headstrong: despite being a talented wizard and an oracle, in the heat of the moment she will resort to punching madly rather than use her divination magic. One of her wizard friends makes her a giant arcane fist spell that she uses to punch her dad dead. In return she gifts the friend a Comprehend Subtext spell which is the fucking best.

Fabian starts out as a pompous rich jock type half-elf. He’s on his high horse as he rides the coattails of his infamous pirate father Bill Seacaster. A talented, athletic, agile, strong fighter. Master of posturing and peacocking, his pride and brash confidence are the outer shell for a deep insecurity that he can never live up to his father’s legacy and expectations. This very hubris nearly gets him killed in the second season. He gets so physically and mentally defeated from this that he DELEVELS. Broken, Fabian spends the rest of the season fighting a debilitating depression, rebuilding himself, eventually connecting to his elven roots and embracing dance. His fighting style changes from then on to some flashy form of rhythmic gymnastics bard. Toxic masculinity be damned, he’s a dancer. Season 3 he is still struggling with the need for acceptance and the pressure for greatness, obsessed with being a “maximum legend”. Oh and he falls in love with a magical mirror reflection of himself. Like, come on.

[notknickers]

Sweet Wound

eroticising bodily injuries is so sexy of me.

synopsis: there are aches that only time can heal, but in the meantime, what's a man to do, when he has got no more patience to spare?

warnings: stabbing (non-graphic), blood (mentioned), masturbation to questionable thoughts (oh-so-graphic), drooling, messy & filthy könig

word count: 898

a/n: this one is pure self-indulgence but, based on my hcs, i don't find it to be out-of-character for könig: you be the judge of that. hope you enjoy and, as per usual, this is intended for an adult audience.

the scar itched on his side. it often did in the least appropriate moments, such as out in the field or right before falling asleep. it was disruptive. nothing new to colonel könig, whose skin was littered with scar tissue, old and older, all throughout.

yet, it had been a while since he earned himself a new one to add to his living tapestry of twisted flesh and skin. he had forgotten how annoyingly wounds healed into scars. they itched. they ached. they forced memories in his mind he had no need of.

this one was still fresh. pink. tender. hypertrophic. he felt it every time he slipped a t-shirt over his head and straightened it at the waist, or accidentally brushed his hip with a hand.

sometimes, pawing at it would soothe enough its demands. sometimes, it only awakened others. it was a difficult balancing act with no certain predictions.

that fucking keloidal lump!

a stupid move in a stupid moment. he got sloppy during a close confrontation with enemy patrols and got grazed. well, a little more than grazed. stabbed.

not too deep. nothing serious. nothing long-term. just annoying.

könig reprimanded himself for letting his guard down while he contemplated whether to scratch his itch, or not.

once the enemy was dispatched – and the bastard responsible for his wound made to pay tenfold for their hubris – it was all a matter of patching himself up.

he started to, when one of his recruits stepped in, pointing out his filthy hands would only make things worse. luckily, they carried sterile gauzes and saline. the ever-prepared goodie-two-shoes…

they bared their superior’s flank, disregarding his foolish glaring, and began pouring the liquid on to the wound, draining both blood and anything that might be trapped – clothing fibres, dirt grains… hopefully nothing nasty coating the offending blade.

he hissed when the recruit pressed the gauze across the cut, causing them to falter a moment, before they resumed squeezing down on colonel könig’s side, aided by his very large hand covering theirs.

unpleasant though it was, it had to be done.

the look on the recruit’s face flashed in his mind’s eye, a mixture of confusion and mild discomfort when they tried to slip their hand away from under his, but könig held them there more than a moment longer, before letting them free.

since then, he hadn’t gone a day without wondering, even briefly, what the recruit’s fingers would have felt inside his ruined flesh. teasing at the edge of the wound lip as it oozed, thick and red, before plunging inside, gently at first, only to set every nerve ending on fire after forgoing any gentleness.

what he wouldn’t have given to go back there and beg them to explore the tender insides just under his skin.

why was he like that? he often asked himself, but no answer would follow.

no point wondering, then.

a reluctant finger pad started circling his scar, uncertain at first, gaining confidence as the raised flesh grew closer, while his other hand went to his cock, stirred by his thoughts since they first began plaguing him and strained against his cage of fabric and ill-will. he angrily freed it from his pants, veiny heft already painfully engorged and leaking, as it always was.

he did not waste time toying with it. he wanted to be done as soon as he could.

he wrapped his hand around it and began stroking, squeezing tightly at the reddened head, collecting his own slick to slide down to the root, where pale curls cushioned the fury of his own hand.

it didn’t take könig long to hear his own laboured breathing. fingers still pressing in the soft meat of the keloid on his side, he captured the hem of his mask between his ruined lips, chewing on it not to hear himself.

useless effort, as the more his fingers pressed into his scar, the more his hips shoved into his fist and the more his hand rhythmically stroked his meaty cock, the more he wished he could burrow inside his wound, open it again, violate it with his thick fingers.

a short nail bit into it, impressing a crescent shape in the swollen red of the recently-healed tissue.

his mask was drenched in spit. it trickled down the side of his mouth, uneven lips incapable of containing his saliva since the childhood incident, leaving him, more often than not, to drool, unless he paid mind to avoid it.

if he kept rubbing at his scar like that, he might have his wish of unsealing its scar tissue chrysalis to let crimson flow, stain his fingers. his seed, spurting hot on his hand and stomach almost lulled him into believing it.

he whined in pleasure, but he could have howled in disappointment, as he knew it was not so.

the tension dissipated too quickly from his strained muscles and könig found himself sagging on the mattress he lay on, tears streaming down his cheeks in that confounding liminality of afterglow. he could taste their salt, as he stared at the ceiling, seed congealing on his damp, sweaty skin.

könig did not bother cleaning himself up, nor did he roll down his tank top, or tucked his cock back in his drawers. he lay there, dirty, used, tired…

that would be tomorrow’s problem. for now, he would just sleep.