#the domain levels are sometimes hard

[luv-drama]

I just wanted to tell someone my update with genshin. building kazuha is tough but I can finally beat his boss by myself. I wanted to finally level up a hydro character but I was to scared to fight oceanid but I literally just beat it on my first try (like literally today). Ever since I started learning how to properly farm artifacts it’s been so much better. My next goal is to beat the ruin serpent.

[nickmarini]

Hello Nick!! Your role in Downfall was so amazing and I love the extreme nuances and choices shown in your role playing.

Can you share any how you used terms like “child”, “son” and “father” when referring to the dawn father? Was it separately characteristics of the same god or more showing perspectives in those moments as the mortal avatar? I am fascinated and it make me scratch my brain thinking of possibilities.

Thank you so much!

#CR Downfall

Thank you for saying that, and great question!

This is a round about answer but a lot of that wordplay came from simply the name. Dawnfather is such a name rich in meaning. Both aspects of it have ties to time and new beginnings.

Dawn is the suns' rise each morning, born anew to herald the coming day. Its consistent return gives mortals the ability to track the weeks, the seasons, and the years. To even learn that the suns' patterns can allow one to divine the seasons takes years of thoughtful study. Dawn dispels the darkness and stimulates natures growth. It’s constantly new and also always constant.

Father. One cannot become a father without time. To be a father, one must have been a child, it is a stage of life that must be reached. It necessitates change and growth as much as the dawn does. A father knows what it is to have been a child, to have been the dawn, and now he watches over it, paving the way for the new. If I’m going to show a different side of the Dawnfather then showing that previous stage of life seemed interesting.

Within his name itself is this story of growth. His was the first light, he fathered the dawn, and he has kept watch through the ages as the keeper the time. Sun, summer, time, agriculture, harvest, he is a hands on god, consistent, dutiful, present, with his hands in the dirt, it is what he knows. To become mortal and not tend to the world is hard for him.

Ayden is young, he is new, he is the Dawn, but not yet the Father. He is an aspect, the Dawnfathers hope sent down to Exandria to aid his siblings. He has more abilities pertaining to agriculture than the sun because that is the Dawnfathers newest domain. He comes late because the Dawnfather wants to wait till the absolute last minute to abandon his post. He has yet to make the journey.

All this to say that I wanted to explicitly show him growing from this experience. Ayden is not the Dawnfather we know…yet, he is the Dawnchild, on his journey. He has not toiled for ages tending to the world. I believe that the Dawnfather pre and post divergence is quite different. I think the divine gate separates him from the hands on nature of his expressed divinity. I think Ayden was a way to show this dawning realization that to be a good father one must empathize with children but also sometimes make the hard decisions for them, something they do not always agree with.

I wanted to play with him being both a part of the greater whole of the Dawnfather, and something seperate. His literal age of 15 means he is not fully formed despite being infused with the divine soul of the Dawnfather. Getting to play with “child” “son” and “father” let me highlight the differences and illuminate the growth that happens during this time of mortal incarnation and explore the inner turmoil with the Dawnfather himself as his various aspects interact with one another.

There is also precedent in some belief systems of Sun gods birthing themselves or being replaced by their own mortal incarnations. I think for a diety that rises anew each day it’s natural to associate imagery of rebirth or the journey of child to father.

And lastly I think it shouldn’t be overstated how much effect the Everlight and Trist had on Ayden. Nearly half of his levels are devoted to her. I think that sort of reinforces his mortal shell in a unique way and gives him the opportunity to be two things at once more fully.

[regainingparadise]

Relistening to TMA Season 5, I am again struck by how goddam badly Martin and Jon need couples counseling.

I love them both. I ship them very much. But oh lord they have issues

Like, these are two individuals who, under the very best of circumstances, would really need therapy both individually and together. They are both people with plentiful quantities of relational trauma from childhood that neither of them have worked through even the slightest bit.

And then you throw them into the apocalypse. And you add a metric fuck ton of guilt, helplessness, and the dynamics of being "The Antichrist and +1"?

On a surface level--Jon is in a perpetual state of information overload. Martin is in a perpetual state of "can you please just explain the basics of what's' going on in a given situation and not just say "it's complicated" or launch into a gruesome monologue"

But on a deeper level, their childhood relational traumas have left them each with opposing avoidant tendencies: Jon is unwilling to broach a difficult conversation, which leads him to hide information until he's confronted. Martin, on the other hand, has a finely honed ability to ignore information that he doesn't like until he no longer can hide from it.

Biggest example of their avoidance tendencies: Martin's Domain

Way early on, when we barely understand any of how the hellscape works, Jon mentions it, Martin shuts it down hard and deflects quickly with a bid for affection from Jon

Martin is in deliberate denial, but Jon admittedly wasn't particularly clear to start with.

"We all have a domain."

Jon means it, presumably, as "Me, You, and other 'Avatars.'" Jon is used to being grouped with those empowered by the Entities. Martin isn't. (see also: MAG185: Martin" Is that how these creatures see us now? As one of them?") But that's not what Jon says. And this is MAG167--they've only been through four domains, at least that we've seen. Jon is speaking from a place of knowledge, and assuming his listener has that same knowledge.

And when this issue comes up much later in MAG183, Martin has spent 17 episodes ignoring or forgetting that he has a domain, not letting that information in so that he has never processed it. (See also: Mag170: "Sometimes I wonder if I forget things on purpose. Easier not to think about them, I guess. Easier to just let them… slip away. They can’t hurt you if you don’t think about them.").

Martin confronts Jon on his avoidance (because while Martin may be good at ignoring things he doesn't like, he's far better at bringing up challenging topics), Jon is able to manage some A+ communication on his feelings and the genuine challenging of figuring out how to share upsetting information when he has All The Information, Martin accepts that. I just desperately want a therapist to be there and make them continue this conversation and practice ongoing good communication skills!

Though they resolve this, even though Jon has an explanation that makes sense...he was really leaving this conversation to the last minute. Would he have "[brought] it up at the crossroads" as he claims to Helen? Or would he have avoided it entirely, as she accuses, or waited till they were at the threshold, as he does with The Desolation and the Hunt, leaving Martin to confront terrifying situations without forewarning or planning or explanation.

Again, Jon kind of tried to bring up some of the potential issues with Basira and Daisy before entering the Hunt domain, but kept it Vague and Ominous ("Things aren't...good"). Martin took that vagueness as an opening to avoid engaging with potential bad news. The teensiest bit of therapy for either of them about their communication issues could have let Jon add "I know you're exited but FYI here are some specifics that you should know" and/or Martin go "I'm excited to see them but given that nothing is good right now, can you be more specific?"

Instead, Jon approaches difficult conversations by being Vague and Ominous, Martin gets snarky or passive-aggressive at the vagueness, upset or aggressively avoidant at the Ominousness, Jon closes back up like a turtle into his shell, and the conversation only comes back up when the situation has drastically escalated, leaving them both more upset.

Jon wants Martin to trust him, because explaining what he knows implicitly is an ordeal for him, and because his upbringing by his grandmother has suggested that communicating is generally unwanted and burdensome (See: MAG081 A Guest for Mr. Spider).

Martin wants to know what is going on, because he's in an awful hellscape of shifting rules about what can and cannot hurt them, completely dependent on a brand-new romantic partner for his survival and purpose, and also because his upbringing and coping mechanisms as a caretaker rely on him knowing enough to help, and his time as an archival assistant has given him some not-inconsiderable trauma about being left in the dark (See: MAG118 The Masquerade) (There's also another post in my head about how MAG118 primed Martin for both the Lonely and his development as a more confrontational character in S5)

All that to say.

Martin needs therapy to deal with the way he chooses not to absorb information he doesn't like. Jon needs therapy to understand that sometimes it's ok to bring up important topics even if the other person will be upset. They both need therapy to cope with all the guilt and helplessness around the apocalypse so they stop taking it out on each other. They need therapy together to learn how to work through their conflicting coping mechanisms.

[mondaymelon]

— 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻: 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 ♥

: with liyue men! : (warnings~ obsessive behavior, the usual)

as an adeptus, XIAO has trained himself since the beginning to feel no emotions, especially one as childish as affection.

but when it becomes apparent that you favor him over the others - giving him your best artifacts, weapons, leveling him up and his talents, the fact that he never seemed to leave your party... and the fact that you still listen to his voicelines on repeat.

of course, he really doesn't understand why you want him to say such words again and again, but if you really want him too, then by all means, he'll recite it as many times as he needs too - until his throat bleeds.

it gets to a point where it's hard for him to keep a mask of calm around you, sometimes refusing to face the screen for fear of you seeing his bright red, flustered face. the feeling he gets when you appear just makes him feel warm. whole. complete. like how he should be.

and he doesn't want that feeling to end. ♥

the moment he joins your party, it seems that CHILDE will never leave your side.

he's been watching you for a while, longer than he'd like to admit. the fatui member has been entranced by you since the moment you began your adventure in teyvat - because he knew you were there. and he could barely keep himself together when you skipped other character banners just to wait for him.

maybe that meant you wanted him as much as he wanted you!!

that's what childe tells himself, at the very least.

but perhaps that's the actual truth?? his heart can't stop racing as he watches you through the front camera with his almost sparkling blue eyes, seeing how you're so desperate to have him!!

then, that means you'd recuperate his feelings, right? ♥

it's not an underestimation to say that ZHONGLI has dedicated everything to you.

he's not just an acolyte, but more of the acolyte. his past used to be a... dark topic for him to bring up - especially the mention of his passed lover, but now that he's found you, he finally has something to live for!!

so he tries his very best. after all, zhongli is quite the capable person. and he won't even have to worry about you finding out, he's quite the actor - but sometimes, even he wonders.

if he spoke to you, would you listen? would you scream? shout? cry??

he's okay with that.

as long as you're by his side, all his doubts are for nothing. but they do trouble him.

so when you mindlessly speak out of habit, busy grinding artifact domains, zhongli has to use every fiber of his being not to flush bright red. "hah... seriously, what would i do without zhongli? i literally need him to play this game... man's shield lasts longer than my lifespan..."

you...

you need him? ♥

p̶̧̟̹̹̝̺͚̺̙̣̽̇̏̐̇͛̏e̷̻̳̐̐̊̈́̆́̉͊r̴̢̝̦͙̰̠̹̀͂͋̑̑͛̈́̆̂͌̚͝f̷̧̹̮̰͖̤̫̣̖̫̿̈̚è̵̡̧͉̹̱̲̘̫̲͒̋̃̽͑̆̈͊͒͛̈́̆c̸̰͔͈̗̟̝͈̞͂̔̓̄̓̿̃̀̊̽̅͠͝t̵͇̱̭̼̝̻̘̭͎̖̳̱̩̉́̑͐͐̆̿̕̚͠͝ͅ.̷̛̰̖͎̰̜̃̌̾̈́̈́̄̏̋̌͘͝͝͠

(a/n) spspps first time writing sagau but plan on making more of this in the future so tell me any characters you'd like to see + any prompt if you want !! thank you for reading ♥

also aesthetics go brrrrrrrr

[shirefantasies]

Things You Do Together- LoTR Characters

A little buffer posting during recovery, sorry y’all 😅 I have some requests getting ready too though! Did a version for Thorin’s company a while back so here’s this version too 🥰

Aragorn wishes there to be no secrets, as few misunderstandings as could arise. Thus his goal is to help you reach fluency in Elvish; after all, many of his friends and familial figures are of Middle Earth’s eldest race. Their script is quite complex, so barring a great desire of yours to be writing it soon Aragorn focuses upon recognition of important words and phrases. Starting, of course, with my love.

Legolas teaches you archery, standing behind you as you fire his bow. Such a patient teacher and not one to burst out laughing if the arrow arcs spectacularly right back down into the grass. Surely he will smile and shake his head, but he understands. Everyone was there once, himself no exception. Pays such attention to detail you will catch him making the smallest of adjustments, even little things like changing the position of your fingers with his.

Desiring to prove both his and his people’s worth, Boromir attends with you at his side a joust hosted by Gondor’s men. You delight in choosing and cheering on a champion, shouting with joy at his successes and sympathizing with strikes against him. When, you think aloud to Boromir, was the last time you both laughed so? Pulling you close, he tells you he does not remember when, but if he has his way it will be soon again.

If you desire exploration, you know that Gimli will be right at your side to enjoy the world’s beauty. Caves, of course, are a domain of his people, expanses of stone glittering on walls and hanging down to your level. Forests, too, homes of fairer beings and much provision. Things Gimli has sworn to protect and love in this life that he wishes to experience with the greatest of them all… you. Never does he tire of telling you nature is beautiful, but more so are you.

Frodo encourages your writing. He himself has penned you many a poem, but there is nothing like your voice, physical or metaphorical, sharing a story with him. His dream is a book containing both of your stories, perhaps even an addition to his uncle’s story. If you feel called to share stories of others, even simple escapes from reality, Frodo is your greatest supporter. With all that he endures, ever a relief is it to hear you speak of a world so different from his own.

Botany, Samwise Gamgee thinks, is best learned amongst the flowers themselves. Rather than stuff you up into the pages of some book, he takes you walking down winding Shire-paths of flowers and bushes, showing you how he can tell what's related by things like leaf shape and giving you little tips and tricks to remember bloom names. “If you forget forget-me-nots, after all,” he teases with a wink, “you’re doing them quite the disservice!”

Merry teaches you his method of whittling, the way he crafts little trinkets of wood to keep occupied in idle times. When you feel more confident in your skills, Merry challenges you: he crafts a little figure of you and you of him. Complain as you do that his lovely hair is hard to capture, in the end you are proud of your first figure and Merry keeps it in the pocket closest to his heart. Those figures serve as the cake topper at your wedding a little ways down the line!

It can be a messy time, but Pippin adores spending time in the kitchen with you! Not only because he knows you’ll acquiesce him with little tastes, but because he’s fascinated at the process, the way you throw things together to make something beautiful and are so willing to have a feast made whenever guests call. Ever one for physical touch, Pippin enjoys sugary-sweet moments like sneaking up behind you for a kiss as you’re occupied kneading dough or standing against you to help stir your soup. And yes, sometimes he spills, but he always apologizes and cleans up after himself and don’t we all make mistakes?

Faramir reads with you, or, if you are stressed, to you. Sharing a love of your land’s myth, the studies of triumphs, follies, and magics past are like traveling far away to him, so to have a companion in that rings deep joy into his heart. He cannot help sometimes comparing the great love stories of Middle Earth to the way you found each other. Faramir is the type to know all your favorite tales and offer them to you at just the right time, sitting you in his lap or against his chest on a bed as he peels the pages open for you.

Smithing is something Eomer is confident you can learn, especially if he knows you wish to be involved in battles and wants to keep you safe! Being a supplier is just as important, otherwise there would be no blades to hoist for Rohan. Always encouraging you to hit harder and chuckling at your initial fear of the red-hot steel, Eomer loves standing behind you and guiding your motions. Perhaps even using this as an opportunity to sneak a kiss!

Haldir shows you how he cares for trees, even the smallest pieces of creation. Small potted trees akin to bonsais decorate shelves and tables in Lothlorien, and trimming and shaping them is an art form in and of itself. Nurturing a tiny, delicate life, after all, requires more intricacies than the greater fortitude. Microcosms of Haldir’s home forest sit before you as you take in his reverent, peaceful smile, hear his guiding words about the nutrients they need. You never tire of the focus spread across his face, the gentle opening of tiny blossoms.

Eowyn adores sparring with you no matter your skill level, moving slower or picking up her pace depending on it. She never wishes to go too hard on you, but does want to push you to try new things and experience different angles so you can keep yourself safe in a fight, Valar forbid you are so threatened. Sometimes your sparring is more playful, more just the two of you chasing each other around with wooden swords and one knocking the other over at the end of it, laughing as you tumble to the ground.

Enjoying the occasional swim, Arwen invites you into one of her home's gorgeous pools with her, stripping you both down to thinner layers as you step into perfectly, perhaps magically, warmed water. Polished stones roll beneath your feet as you wade over to each other, hands joining as you float in peaceful, loving silence. A smile spreads across Arwen's face before she gives you a light, teasing splash, silence quickly devolving into giggles as your troubles lighten.

Elrond is known for making some of the best tea in Middle Earth, and you experience his skills and then some. Not only does the lord of Imladris brew you a cup of your favorite herbal blend, he will also ensure that his bakers have pastries warm and ready and the loveliest toppings. Your relaxation time is like a little ceremony, Elrond pouring your drink and serving you all you wish on your little platter. You will not so much as lift a finger until it is to take a sip of the warm comfort as you and Elrond watch the surrounding waterfalls.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @joonies-word | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

[bloodyshadow1]

so if the bad kids do the classic, switch to defeat your doppleganger move that happens a lot when facing the rat grinders, I think this is how it should go down. (note this was written last week before ep 18, where they used a lot of their resources) This is a purely hypothetical party vs party combat

Ruben-Fabian or Adaine. Fabian with his eyepatch is immune to fear which a lot of college of whispers does really well, as a half-elf he gets wisdom saving throws on charm which is also the bard's bread and butter. He's a fast fighter bard with spellslots to use basically as smites. so he could really blast down Ruben before things start. Adiane as an elf is another good choice like fabian she has advantage against charm affects and while she is not immune to fear like fabian she has a better wisdom save than he does since she is proficient. I would put Fabian over her though mechanically, and he is also a fan of Ruben's so it would be funny to watch them fight

Ivy- Gorgug. He's not the best option, but he's probably the bad kids best counter to her. as a ranger and fighter, she can do a lot of damage to the others with her range, having to deal with a barbarian who can keep hitting you from range. attacking recklessly would negate a lot of the benefit of Shadowy dodge and as a barbarian he would be able to shrug off most of her ranged attacks. He probably has some artificer item that would let him create a light thing like the solar lasso so she wouldn't always be able to hide in the darkness. For the lesser affects of her arcane arrows and ranger abilities, Gorgug has pretty decent saves, and for the dangerous ones like Banishing Arrow, he can at least use flash of genius on himself to bolster those saves. The Ranger part is kind of lost on me, the spells seems decent but nothing that can really stop Gorgug since he's a barbarian, but could mess up someone else in the party. Ranger spells are decent, but he has a pretty strong counter and I can't see Ivy being higher than level 9 in ranger since it seems like fighter was her base class and it has to split somehow.

Oisin- Fig. As a lore bard/paladin/warlock I think it would be best for her to get into Oisin's face and smite the hell out of him. You can't counterspell a smite. As a wizard he is probably the squishiest member of his party so taking him out would be very important. Additionally, she has counterspell which could leave him in trouble in close range. With Shield, Oisin can have a decent ac so there's that, but he's still a wizard who rolled a d6 each level.

Kipperlily-Kristen. While it surprisingly works president versus president, it also works as a cleric with heavy armor. It's not great as a defense against a high level rogue, but it's better than most of her friends have. Not to mention Kristen can do aoe none dex spells that are good against rogues as they won't get evasion from them. it's not great to have your healer dealing with the parties rogue, but sometimes you don't really have another choice. Lots of dangerous cleric spells don't have a dex saving throw so it could be useful once Kristen can see her

Buddy- Adaine. Not a particularly important match up story wise, it has potential but nothing juicy. still a wizard like adaine wouldn't be the worst match against buddy, spell caster vs spell caster, arcane vs divine. Not to mention I think that Buddy doesn't have a lot of HP and probably isn't expecting a melee wizard like Adaine. Adaine can counterspell Buddy's spells while he can impose disadvantage as a light domain cleric, but Wizards don't just make attack rolls, they have saves. Also I think it would be a good contrast in their thoughts, Buddy believing he doesn't cast spells, that Helio/unnamed rage god works through him to cast spells vs Adaine who as a wizard has learned all of her spells. It's also a good contrast between the Bad Kids and the Rat grinders about the theme of this season, hard work vs taking the easy way out.

Mary-Ann - Riz. This is probably one of the worst match ups, no one wants to go up against a high level barbarian 1v1. This isnt' an anime where the fast sneaky person can just lure the big strong bad guy away and keep them distracted. It's dnd where Mary-Ann might just ignore any physical damage because she can at the start.

I think the key to dealing with Mary-Ann is to not fight her. The Bad girls can get around her barbarian resistances with their spells but will go down in a few hits. Fabian can't do enough damage even with all his attacks, Fandragor doesn't do anything about the damage type Fabian does I believe, it works like smites but just increases the Piercing Damage instead of dealing Radiant damage. Gorgug is another Barbarian, but as cool as his new subclass is, I wouldn't put it up against a full also high level barbarian 1v1. Which leaves Riz

However, I think he's the only one who could survive a few rounds with her, he can keep sneaking with his bonus action, disengage (unless she has sentinel), or misty stepping with the Sword of Shadows to get away from her and out of sight and while she will keep halving any damage he does from sneak attack, it's still a decent chuck that even a high level barbarian can't ignore forever. Leaving Riz who can do a decent amount of damage each turn with his sneak attack and not be close to her, he can also halve one of her three attacks. Riz can also do a lot of tricky stuff as an Arcane trickster, Mary-Ann might be immune to fear and charm affects, but she isn't immune to all illusions and enchantments. He could trick her and keep her busy with his spells, with magical ambush she would be rolling her saves with disadvantage. A smart player like Murph could do a lot with his spell list to a Barbarian.

Now obviously, like I said under Mary-Ann/Riz, dnd is not an anime/show/comic book/etc where you can just switch against your doppleganger and win. I think the Bad Kids would beat the Rat Grinders because they know their shit more and they are a party that genuinely cares for each other so their team work has to be better than the party of their dark mirrors who were literally handed xp to power level. That being said I do think the Bad Kids could take their counterpart in 1v1 (with the exception of Gorgug)

Also with the Preview of the next ep(19) the Bad Kids will have to deal with Jace, a high level Sorcerer, and Porter a legendary Barbarian/Paladin, who are definitely more dangerous than a bunch of high schoolers who never really had to fight another party.

Still this was just fun to think about. If you have any thoughts let me know. If you think of your own matchups that you want to discuss also let me know.

[cadejos]

ON NANAMI'S POWER LEVEL, DOMAIN EXPANSIONS, DOMAIN COUNTERS, AND HOW JUJUTSU SOCIETY PLAYS A ROLE.

This analysis originally turned viral on twitter. I'm posting it here for archival.

Nanami treated sorcery like a job and Gojo treated sorcery like a lifestyle. I've thought long and hard about why Nanami does not have certain skills (DE, Simple Domain, etc) that'd easily bump him up in terms of power, as he's already very strong. The reason is two-fold:

He never set out to do more than what he absolutely had to do. ("Moderate effort where moderate effort suffices," etc)

Information about sorcery is very gatekept and compartmentalized, because Jujutsu society sucks.

For point number 1, we are to keep in mind that Nanami is a grade one sorcerer, very much the peak of what sorcery is supposed to be outside of Special Grade work. The purpose of sorcery, up until very recently, has been about killing curses, most of which are not special grade or intelligent. The disaster curses are anomalies, and battles with Domain users were very rare until they showed up. They vastly skewed the power system. Remember that not even Naobito Zenin, the head of one of the great clans, had a Domain expansion either, and it took the work of a Domain user (Megumi) and an experienced sorcerer killer (Toji) to properly counter Dagon in his domain.

If domain battles are truly so rare, I don't really blame Nanami for not going out of his way to work on developing one, especially since Domains require an element of self-assurance that Nanami, due to trauma and disposition, was never geared toward developing.

His soul was strong enough to protect against a novice Mahito subconsciously, which is a promising start, but once Mahito grew too strong he was way out of Nanami's scope (not to mention Gege deliberately tired him over the course of Shibuya) and Nanami was more inclined to take his loss gracefully than to force himself to craft an spontaneous Domain Expansion. It's not like he really had the energy to try, either.

Overall, developing a DE for the off chance that he stumbled upon a Domain user just doesn't sound like his style. And he wouldn't do it for fun, either, because jujutsu is not fun for him, and it never has been. It's just work.

Let's say he would want to at least develop a domain counter, though. That's where point number 2 steps in. The whole reason something as fundamental as a domain counter is so rare in jujutsu is purely because jujutsu society is inherently selfish and self-serving.

If I recall correctly, SD is not something you can teach due to a binding vow tied to the technique. It has to be something you learn on your own through observation and intuition, or by joining New Shadow Style. Up until UiUi's soul swapping, there wasn't a reliable work around for this conundrum. And the other domain counters? Old, not very well known, and gatekept by the clans.

Sometimes I'm inclined to believe jujutsu sorcerers learn sorcery not because of the school system but in spite of it. Unless you're already a genius, born gifted, or willing to go an extra -- ambiguously illicit -- mile (like Kusakabe), there's not much the average sorcerer can do, and not many tools for them to learn to begin with. Nanami is presented as the baseline of what modern day good sorcery looks like; what you can achieve if you're competent, and don't have the privilege of relying on very good mentors, obscure knowledge, or ancient techniques. Even then he had an expansion technique, not something every sorcerer has, and he was capable of achieving one of the pinnacles of Jujutsu, which is the black flash; precisely because of his attitude toward jujutsu and his ability to focus when things get serious.

Maybe if given enough time to heal from his psychological wounds, and given opportunities for more black flashes, as well as a strong enough incentive, he could have circumvented a lot of problems and enlightened his way toward a DE or other such jujutsu-relevelations.

But that's speculation and not really the point of his character.

Had he been a villain though? Gege probably would've made him stronger, if his Culling Games score in JJK's draft Jujutsu Sousen is anything to go by, which is amusing.

Supplementary reading:

In regards to black flashes: a post where I go over why I think Yuuji and Nanami are especially good at them, and why I think they require conditions that are in opposition to Domain expansions.

Measuring Nanami's critical hit power: where I use a statement to further analyze and evaluate the capabilities of the Ratio Technique.

[kisskawa]

— leylines cw major character death, lots of grief, injury, blood, ghosts of the past, love is the most twisted curse of all, bittersweet ending

gojo keeps up the facade. the jokes fall from his tongue as usual, grin on his lips, but there's something else. something wobbly and wrong as it spreads out too far, too thin. and no one misses the quiver of gojo's lip, no matter how slight.

he knows he's not faring well, each chortle harder to sound than the last. and as the moon creeps into the sky, every fibre of the strongest man sinks, heavier than the day before. everyone else can see it too, can see how he struggles. and so, they laugh alongside him and whisper their concerns to one another when they're sure he's not paying attention. it's not hard, gojo can't seem to find focus at all anymore.

for it'd only been two months since they buried you.

two months since they'd dragged your body from the cursed domain, too much blood and too many tears. two months since you'd become a casualty, remaining only as a name on reports and nothing more. two months since gojo had begun missing you, and two months since he had last stopped.

you'd come in like a storm, utterly captivating as you drew others in, magnetism in the air. all it took was a single sharp smile and a flash of lightning behind your eyes for you to peak gojo satoru's interest. it'd taken a bit more time for your relationship to advance, you weren't a fool. you'd heard of gojo, of course you had. a man with extraordinary power and a face to match, his persona of confidence came as no shock, a string of reverent men and women alike behind him, all wide-eyed and jaws dropped in their admiration. it took a while for you to see past them, see past the illusion gojo let his rumoured reputation build. but then you grew tired of the push and pull - all too aware of the quips and smirks gojo saved just for you - and pressed your lips to his, hold firm on his collar and smile curving as his breath hitched in surprise. and just like that, you had him wrapped round your finger.

it was unfamiliar. for the both of you. you'd spent your days focused on sorcery and techniques, hardly letting yourself find distraction as you climbed your way up the ranks. and gojo, he hadn’t let himself feel so committed to anyone, anything in a long, long time. he was picky with who he loved, pickier even with who he let love him. being a jujutsu sorcerer - let alone such a high level one - was tiring and dark, he did his best to separate it all from his time outside of missions. and yet, he found himself letting you reach out and pull at the mask he had worn so comfortably. bare for you to see, he was willing to quieten down and let his lips drop, exhausted, into a frown; gojo didn’t seem to mind, not as long as he was with you. and sometimes, he pondered amusedly, if you had put a curse on him.

but now gojo was stumbling, grappling for a sense of security that he could no longer find. not in the front he used to put on and not in you who he so desperately wanted, who he so desperately needed.

the night he first saw you for the second time was suffocating. he'd spent the whole day locked up, initially in his office and then in his room, hardly able to get past how everything now seemed to remind him of you. so gojo had turned in early, clamping his eyes shut as he tossed around in a bed intended for two.

he finally gave up some time closer to sunrise than sunset, eyes bleary as he ultimately granted them their wish and allowed them to stay open. and it was as he blinked away the false sleep that he saw you.

he wished he had smiled at the sight of you. maybe even screamed, that'd be logical. but instead, gojo stared, awestruck, loving, blinking only when his eyes began to burn. he didn't know it was tears, rather than disbelief or confusion, that pricked at them, not until your name lurched from his throat, a sob more than a question.

like gojo, you didn't react how expected to, no gentle hello, no admission of love but a simple "you need to let me go." you were never one to sugarcoat around satoru, knowing he'd take your words and twist them into a playful tease, stealing a kiss or two from you in the meantime.

"no, i can't," gojo replied snippedly, somehow falling back into that easy flow of conversation you two always had, no matter what form you took now.

you were about to protest, lips parted as you weighed over demanding him to or assuring him he could, when you faltered. for gojo sat in a too big bed, shaking his head petulantly as tears slowly filled his waterline and yet, you could see, clear as day, how the corners of his lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. 

"ok," you whispered acceptingly instead into the air and that smile grew.

since then you'd stuck by gojo's side, though, you supposed, that was nothing new. he wandered down the hallways, you right behind him with your silent footsteps, talking to the thin air and no one dared to mention it in conversation. (“he's grieving, let him be.”)

you kept him company as he taught the first years too, lilt in his voice faded and energy sapping throughout the day. but he bore through it. the kids only had him now, and he couldn't let them down like he did you, he wouldn't. in return, nobara sought gojo from his room most nights, words firm and attitude stubborn as she grasped and tugged his sleeve tightly. she sat him down with a solid hand on his shoulder and he'd watch as itadori waltzed around the kitchen, the other two providing aid when they could. "eat," megumi ushered each time with a nod as they crowded round the table, waiting for gojo to take a bite before he allowed himself to follow suit.

you'd always been fond of megumi, having known him the longest of the first years. he was polite though stoic and sarky, and from the way he greeted you in the hallways with a low nod of his head and a call of your name, it was obvious he favoured you too. more often than not he'd turn to you to ask for guidance on training or to complain about gojo's antics and with a tender expression, you'd tried your best to provide him what assistance you could, even if the advice wasn’t always so helpful, you both knew gojo wasn’t going to to stop in his teases, he loved the boy.

but one day megumi returned from a mission battered and broken, blood caking his features and matting his hair. a bruised gojo stood by his side in the infirmary, paler than you had ever seen him. you'd watched carefully as he double and then triple checked if megumi was okay before meandering to his office, footsteps too slow, too heavy.

you'd waited as he slumped in front of his desk, body sinking until his forehead was pressed against the wood. all it took was a tremble of his body and then "fuck!" - a shout as gojo slammed his fist on the table, voice thick. it took a moment for his breathing to even out and another for him to force himself mostly upright, head supported by his hand which was slowly blooming red. still, you remained silent as gojo filled out the mission report, grip too tight on his pen, ink as thick as the blood that trickled down from the gash on his cheek.

"it was the same one," gojo broke the silence with a mumble. any louder and his voice would tremble. "the same one that...you…"

"oh," you hummed, no longer trying to peek over his shoulder at his scrawled handwriting.

"yeah," gojo swallowed thickly, "it--uh it went for megumi first, made him see you when…" his voice is even smaller as he whispers, "i couldn't help him."

something foreign begins to swirl inside you, eating at you as the cursed spirit comes back to haunt you in pieces, grotesque and deformed. thick and wilting skin, limbs twisted every which way and too many eyes glowing a bright yellow. too many teeth too. curved into a ghastly smile as it wracked an arm through your abdomen. you wondered if megumi had felt this same fear.

gojo couldn't bring himself to look away as you remembered. your eyes turned empty, hollow, as your body shuddered in aggressive heaves, growing ever more sunken with each faux breath. your form became greyer, save for the wounds that had returned, marring the remains of your skin. your blood, seeming so real, dripped onto the floor in a consistent stream and all at once, a hole formed in your stomach, baring your insides. the pain, you realised, had never left, simply pushed down and you let out nothing less than a howl, anguished and tortured, ridden with agony. it's gojo's turn to watch now, all too aware that, for the first time since he had seen your ghost, you were well and truly dead, and the tears were endless as, for the second time that day, he remained utterly useless.

a second later and you had gone. disappeared into a wisp and gojo's ears were left ringing as he wondered if any of that - of you - had ever been real.

whatever you are, it took you a week to return, just in time to witness how gojo had restarted his work on tracking down that damn cursed spirit once again. the pair of you carried forward an unspoken deal, pretending you hadn't had a meltdown on supernatural levels and gojo hadn't spent the last few evenings talking to the thin air, begging you to come back. it reminded him all too much of when he had gripped your body, unmoving and still, chants and cries falling endlessly from his lips.

gojo threw himself into the work, stomach churning each time he took a break to visit the infirmary and check on megumi's recovery. not wanting to disturb, you had gotten into the habit of sitting perched on the edge of megumi's bed in the meantime, fingers attempting to smoothen his unruly hair though only ever falling through. there's something about the sight that makes the guilt double, rising up onto gojo's tongue and threatening to spill as it burns his throat, stinging and bitter.

it paid off though. of course it did, it had to. because a month later, gojo found himself trailing after the ugly thing, just an inch from his grasp. it turned, still running, with a taunt, smile curved unnaturally wide as it laughed and spat. in a rage, gojo locked eyes with the cursed spirit and his breath immediately hitched, megumi's injuries entering his mind with a flash. 

gojo felt his jaw ache, teeth clenched together painfully as he zeroed his focus once more. he moved swiftly past the illusion, the memory, of megumi - the boy now fully recovered and fighting a lower grade curse behind him - only to fall into another. this time one of you.

he stared unwavering at the curse, unable to tear his eyes away, stuck in the grasp of haunting yellow. you’re sat in the midst of that, between the pupils and the lids, a dark shadow dancing against the unnatural colour. you run and run, trapped unknowingly in a circle, until finally, the inky cloud you were formed from reaches over and tugs its way through your core. 

gojo doesn't realise he's sobbing, doesn't realise he's screaming either. not even as the tears drip thick from his chin and his throat rubs raw, hoarse. instead all he can think of is you, and how the last thing you'd seen on earth had been the curse that stood in front of him, eyes glowing and smile mocking.

his instinct takes control as a domain takes form, curving over himself and the cursed spirit - and you. it's messy and sloppy, not up to gojo's usual standards, but he can't find it in himself to care, not when the curse stands right in front of him, your death swirling in his irises and yet still, somehow, out of his reach.

it takes but a minute for you to realise you're inside the incomplete domain, pulled in by your connection to both gojo and the curse. this - and the failed mission before - had been for you after all. that much was clear, no matter how much gojo brushed it off and pretended it wasn't. and with him in the forefront of your mind as he so often resided, you ran towards the sound of an obvious fight. and try as you might, you couldn't prevent the feeling that everything was too weighted, too slow. it was clunky as your feet slapped against the floor and your eyes, though darting, couldn't take in the sights before you. a fist, a snap of a jaw, all gone in a single blink.

it was entirely impulse when you found yourself behind gojo, a counter to the curse's inhuman speed and the angled blow it had aimed at his back. your arm was raised protectively, a makeshift shield imbued with cursed energy. there’s no time for gojo to drink you in, no time for him to appreciate you once more. instead all he can do is clap his hands together with ease, confident smile on his face as your joint technique shoots the curse back with an echo.

it doesn’t take much more for gojo to finish the curse off, refinding his stride and proving his worth as the strongest. you provide a helping hand here and there, battling it into position to receive gojo’s hits, but it’s clear to see he needed only a nudge to return to himself, his demeanour familiar and certainty reassuring.

gojo doesn’t waste a minute after the curse finally falls with a telltale thud, tugging on your wrist until you whirl into him, your mere warmth enough to have tears pricking at his eyes. there’s a newfound fervour that he kisses you with, lips slotted against yours as he pours out pure love, desperate for you to receive it all. your chest swells, heart beating rapidly until eventually you can no longer ignore how heavy it feels in your ribcage, a punishment for using borrowed time.

pressing another kiss to his lips, you cup your hands delicately around satoru’s face as though he might break, and mumble softly again: "you need to let me go."

"no, i can't," he repeats, a whimper more than anything this time round and the tears drip down from his eyes and onto your thumbs.

"you have to," you murmur in that tone you knew always soothed gojo as he began to tremble in your hold, "the curse is dead and we both know this domain won't last, can't last forever. let me go satoru, it's okay."

there’s a pause, filled only with sobs as both your hearts constrict and all gojo can do is cry his farewell, “i love you, i love you so much.”

"i know,” you smile, shaky and weak, and still, satoru can’t resist returning it, “i love you, and i'll always be with you. i promise."

one final kiss is shared, gentle but with all the passion of a million goodbyes and the love that should’ve been kindled together for the rest of your lives. satoru keeps you as close to him as he can as the domain collapses and you fade away, nothing more than a wisp of a memory. the first years all clamber towards their teacher, megumi the first to ask "what happened? are you okay?" as the trio barely catch a sliver of red rimmed eyes before gojo slips his blindfold on.

satoru hums positively, smile more assured than it had been for a long while, "yeah i'm alright" he rubs a hand in megumi's hair, "they're gone."

[worlds-oldest-teenager]

Why I think Apollo is the golden child and not the scapegoat.

To me both Apollo and Athena are Zeus's golden children.

At first it makes sense that Apollo would be the scapegoat of the family cause of how disproportionate the punishment is when most of his family (Athena & Ares) Have done much worse. The way Apollo narrates as well makes him seem like he gets the blame for everything.

But if we really get into the head honcho himself's brain, the punishment is fitting for the crime Apollo's committed. In his mind Ares and Athena's crimes are excusable. Ares is violent, bloodthirsty and war bringing and he's given up on that child ages ago. (I'd argue that Ares is the real scapegoat of the family)

Athena is interesting. She's very clearly at fault for this war even more so than Apollo. So why doesn't she get punished at all?

I think the reason he comes down so hard on Apollo and not on Athena is cause of their motivations. Athena causing the schism over some statues was because of her righteous anger at the Romans for demoting her to a craft goddess. It was a decision she made millennia ago that any other god, at least in Zeus's opinion, would have also made. They literally stole her and made her nothing which is something no god takes lightly.

Apollo is a whole other story.

The reasons behind Apollo conspiring with Octavian are blurry but what we can acknowledge is that he at least promised to put him above Zeus which is complete high treason on Apollo's part for actually going along with it.

Hoping on Ares just invites disappointment. Athena's the golden child who's actions are perfectly acceptable in his twisted mind. But Apollo? Apollo should be the perfect son, and most of the time he is. He's got the most domains. He's won so many times that the very symbol of victory is one of his symbols.

Athena and Apollo's relationship, from the very little we've seen, also confirms this. They seem to have a deep mutual respect for each other and an understanding that comes from being in the exact same situation.  Apollo loves her enough to give her a nickname. Athena is (I think) the only god to almost stand up to Zeus when he blamed Apollo for the whole war. To me their dynamic doesn't really read as a golden child/ scapegoat dynamic but more like mutual golden children with one absolutely having the potential to kill their father. They're kind of ride or die but they would not die for each other lmao.

So I think Athena and Apollo share the same dysfunctional family role. It's just that sometimes Apollo goes a little astray yenno? He's learnt to sand down his rough edges since he was a godling but at least twice before, he's absolutely lost it and forced his father's hand. But it was nothing a little correction couldn't handle. Now he's back to being Zeus's perfect son and continues being so for thousands of years.

That's why him conspiring to overthrow Zeus is such a collosal betrayal. This level of anger and hurt doesn't make sense to me if Apollo is the scapegoat. It makes much more sense if he's Zeus's beloved son who he thought loved him as much as he did.

Even his confrontation with Apollo in blood of Olympus was blamey, sure, but it was also a bitterly disappointed kind of angry. I really feel like he was using the war to justify punishing Apollo so harshly for an affront against himself.  (Way to state the obvious).

Pjo Zeus just doesn't really seem to care about most of the problems anyone is facing  until there's real potential that it could turn deadly against himself. He has a prophecy of his son overthrowing him to think about. Golden child or not, nay especially if it's his golden child, they cannot ever think doing such a thing is acceptable or that they are capable of it.

And in that way the punishment kind of fits, right? Try to put yourself above the king of the gods? Get supremely humbled with the most embarrassing experience of your life fighting your nightmare of a nemesis who nearly killed you as a child.

Zeus and Apollo reuniting on Olympus after his trials cements my point. What is Zeus's confirmation that all is right and his son is back in his rightful place? Is it 'I apologize' or 'I love you ' ? No. It's, "You have done me proud ". Because this is who Apollo is meant to be. An object of pride that Zeus doesn't love so much as appreciate when the light from his trophy child reflects on himself.

[arabella-strange]

The problem is, there are two problems:

Problem #1: The Gods. They hold all the cards. They act like they're inevitable, immovable, and most important of all? Already here—they're a known danger. Literally the devil (and celestials and others) you know. But just because they are complex and flawed and powerful and pre-existing and far-reaching and far-knowing, does that mean we mortals of Exandria must accept their power regime forever? Can those under their domains not choose to strike out for a radical new future of unknowns—not even try? And yes, absolutely, they're good to us sometimes, they like or love us sometimes, they want what's "best" [according to them] for the world and the universe sometimes. But just because of those sometimes, just because things would change in unprecedented ways that might even be daunting or frightening or hard, does that fear mean we have to yield and submit to their fundamental prioritization of their continued dominance over us? Solution: unclear. Who gets to decide: also unclear.

Problem #2: Ludinus and Predathos. Ludinus has seized unilateral control. He has decided (as Orym pointed out) that he knows best, that "the ends justify the means." He has likewise decided (as Imogen pointed out) that what he wants and his judgment have achieved a level of rightness that must either be followed or be cut out of his way. If you're not with me, you're my enemy. Now, these two problems are intertwined at present because Ludinus is partly responding to Problem #1—namely, the injustice of living under what mortals must [he asserts] realize is not an inevitability or a necessary constant of the world. But he has turned in his campaign to solve this problem to Predathos, a total unknown, and Ludinus has gone so far down this path that he has convinced himself (or allowed himself to stop questioning) that his solution is the only right one. The absolute conviction without regard for harm, for alternatives, or for consequences makes him and this route a problem in its own right. Solution: unclear. Who gets to decide: also unclear.

*** But the thing I hope there is still time for? is a disentangling of these problems.*** Because Ludinus has warped the conversation so much, sooooo much, to make it seem like Problem #1 MUST be solved and it must be solved NOW, HIS way. But that's not true. If the Gods must be overthrown—if it is their time to become simply "the old gods"—then that deserves consideration. But he does not get to decide on behalf of the whole world that his way is the only way; there is no evidence that this is the only way and the only time and the only terms by which this important, maybe-uncertainly-possibly necessary step must be taken. But he benefits by making everyone think so.

[ladyiristheenchantress]

Working with Air

Welcome to the third part of my elemental series! Today we will explore some aspects of working with air like offerings, devotional activities, common lessons, aspects, and more! With all that said lets get started!

To preface: I am a devotee to water itself, I am a west witch practioner which means I work within the domain of water, the past, divination, and psyche! I also am a general elemental practioner and have experience working with all of the elements and their aspects!

What is working with air like?

While looking at verified gnosis and cultural nuance some things remain familiar, things like air being both stagnant and rushing, life giving, and more! It is a major backbone (Much like all the elements are for each other) in the way that all organisms that preform aerobic respiration (Air breathing) need oxygen, air, and a form of atmosphere including water based animals. Air does not have a concept of gender (same with all the elements), however you can always ask as a bonding opportunity or follow a cultural addition that may apply pronouns to an element.

In general, air is primordial, but it is considered one of the youngest of the elements mainly because magma, water, and a form of earth had existed before O2, and an actual atmosphere. With that in mind, the air ended up facilitating a lot of growth here on earth, and from there air has many aspects! Air has tempest, dead air, atmosphere, wind, and breath! There are plenty of types of air spirits like syliphs, Sylphons, Spirulites, and more.

Some people work with wind, air anomaly's like tornados and wind storms, and breathwork. Wind and breath teaches more gentle and peaceful lessons about how to take a step back and take a moment for yourself. Someone who works with tempest might receive more lessons relating to coming into your own power and growing a backbone. Each aspect will have different lessons and personality traits, but each of them still follow the same lessons of balance between motion and pause, and even speaking.

In your relationship you may be called to breath work, using feathers, and more that we will be discussing a bit later, however air is will see us like any other animal, and is more apprehensive to engage in a conversation so practioners may have to call out to it first. UPG: Air is really rushing and sometimes can be overwhelming, and we have had many wonderful conversations relating to hard work, taking things as they come, and not falling into unhealthy stagnation. Air has not been very direct and tends to come as needed into my space and isnt an omnipresent force! In general I have needed to call on it first for information or advice, it is also quite stoic and serious when needed but also upbeat and kind when needed.

Finally, air does have some birth connotations, but they are directly indicative of the relationships it has with other elements. Air cannot do its job in a vacuum like space until some level of atmosphere is established. However 'air' can mean different things to different people, and in a way taking a first breath is life!

What are common offerings?

People tend to keep an altar to air near doorways, windows, and living rooms because of the rush of energy as people walk through doors, the energy of change from windows, and more! historically a lot of air honoring comes from within like being outdoors, having windows open, and doing breath work in a special place because of the motion you can feel from the air.

In air practices there are heavy emphasis on working and action! this comes from most of air needing to be moved to be felt, as often times we dont notice when we are breathing or walking through the precious gas. Moving air like with breath, feathers, and fans can be really helpful.

Some common practices include meditation and breath work, energy motion, dance, song, using feathers, fans, and incense scrying are all really common aspects of work! Another aspect is action, doing divination with clouds, the sky, and smoke is helpful, and then another thing is storm chasing, tracking the weather, and observing the atmosphere can also be really good forms of connection.

What are some correspondences?

Crystals - Amethyst, Angel Aura Quartz, Angelite, Celestite, Clear Quartz, Danburite, Flourite, Green Adventurine, Howlite, Kyanite, Labradorite, Rainbow obsidian

Herbs - Poplar, cottonwood, moss, Aspen, Marjoram, Cilantro, Lavender, Rosemary, Lemongrass, Anise, Oregano, Peppermint, Fennel, Asparagus, Celery, Cattail, Hazel, Almond, Bay, Borage, Frankincense

Colors - green, yellow, white

Energy Centers - heart and sacral

Zodiacs - Gemini, Libra, and Aquarius

Tools - Feathers, fans, incense, and books

Scents - fresh, clean, lively

Resources

Tip Jar

[bit-odd-innit]

Fic: Somewhere That’s Green

[based on a post I made about Eddie’s future]

It’s a hole in the wall just off the main drag, the kind of place you can’t find unless you know to look. In a previous life it had been a pizzeria, which explained the bright green vinyl awning Eddie had no intention of replacing. He’d kept the pick-up window, too, used it to host “office hours.” (“Office hours” was supposed to mean “deliver personalized music recommendations to interested passers-by.” Now it means “help harried, double-parked parents reschedule music lessons.”) 

He’d also kept the apartment upstairs. They have a house now—a nice one, with a wrap-around porch and a big backyard and a cluster of hedges Steve always insists are “a mess”—but when Eddie trips into an inventory hole and loses track of time, it’s nice to have a place to crash. If it’s not a school night sometimes Steve joins him, and they’ll relive the halcyon days of their early twenties, buoyed by cheap beer, diner curly fries, and giddy infatuation. (The infatuation has only grown and flourished even as his tolerance for salty food has withered. Acid reflux is a bitch.)

He’s happy they kept the apartment. He happy knowing that if someone needs it—someone scared, broke, desperate for a lifeline and a scrap of no-strings-attached kindness—it’s something he can provide. 

Initial plans had been to focus on music, just music. It was supposed to be the utopic all-metal record store of Eddie’s nightmares.  But as he started to build stock, he remembered how hard it had been to find merch for the things he liked. How a pin or a patch or poster he’d dug up at a garage sale four towns over made him feel more seen than anything on offer at the local mini-mall. How he wanted to be a hub for the weird shit not everyone liked, but the people who did loved. His horrible little magpie brain fluttered from shiny thing to shiny thing, and by the time opening day rolled around the store was a one-stop shop for all things music, merch and whatever wacky knick-knacks tickled Eddie’s fancy. Or horrified Steve. Or both. Both was best.

The Corroded Coffin guys slotted in easily. Francis always liked doing promo for their gigs, was good at it, too. But by the early 2000s, his methods were apparently so outdated his daughter begged to let her take over. (“He’s stapling fliers to telephone poles, Uncle Eddie. You don’t even have a website.”  

“What is a telephone pole covered in fliers if not the working man’s web-ed site?”

“Oh my God give me your credit card I’m buying you a domain name.”

“A what?”)

Jeff got his CPA and took over the financials, reeling Eddie in whenever he was struck by the urge to make a impulsive, outlandish purchase. (“I genuinely don’t understand how you make money.” 

“It’s cause I don’t do my taxes.”

“I do your taxes. At a great personal expense.”) 

Gareth was instrumental (heh…) in building up the music program—soundproofing the basement and hiring instructors and coordinating concerts and organizing payment plans, all the nitty-gritty non-music stuff that made Eddie’s head spin. At some point it just made the most sense for Eddie to cede control, let him operate it however he saw fit. (“This is your baby, dude. It’s a baby that took form within my own, much larger baby. But it’s yours.”

“I’m touched by your words and appalled by your phrasing.”

“That’s the only way I could have said it.”) 

(Gareth also once described the store as an “Elevated Hot Topic.” Eddie still hasn’t decided when he’s going to kick his ass.)


Momentum grew. Ideas compounded ideas. A kid asked how to sew a patch to his backpack and it snowballed into the Build Your Own Battlevest Workshop. Wayne suggested knocking out the connecting wall between the walk-in freezer and the pantry, and now thrice weekly Eddie runs table-top games for varying age-sets and skill-levels. (At Steve’s request, the elementary school group is called H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS FIRE CLUB. Not because he thinks it needs to be censored. He just thinks it’s funny.)  (He’s right.)

It was supposed to be a record store but now it’s so much more. Now there are listening parties and movie screenings and little league teams with his store’s name on the back of their jerseys and and and—

Eddie used to think, if he got lucky, he’d last a year. Now he’s closing in on 30. He was profiled by the local newspaper. They called him “a pillar of the community.”

Wild. 

It’s a warm, sunny April morning. He’s sitting at the takeout window, sipping coffee from the bottom half of a teapot-teacup combo that reads, in a menacing blood-red font, THIS FREAK DRINKS TEA. His hair is gathered in a loose braid, the ends still damp from his post-run shower. (Sometime in their mid-thirties Steve tricked him into maintaining a consistent cardio routine, and now he’s the type of person who gets out of bed at the crack of dawn to knock out an “easy three.” He’s a monster, a husk of his former self. A husk with a much-improved lung capacity and thighs that can juice a watermelon but nonetheless HUSK.) The middle school is about a half mile from the shop; he pulls faces at all the students filtering past. (Steve’s kids, current and former, refer to Eddie exclusively as Mr. Munson’s Husband. It never fails to thrill him.)

He’s leaning back to flip the record piping through the store’s speakers (“Dustin I don’t care if it’s ‘easier’ to ‘create a Spotify account,’ whatever that means. We play vinyl only! Let me be pretentious about this one thing!”) when he hears a meek, polite cough coming from just beneath the window. He peers out and on the sidewalk stands a girl. She’s small, too little to be one of Steve’s. She clutches the strap of her backpack, blue eyes huge with nerves and determination. 

“Hail and well met, weary traveler!” He’s speaking in what Steve calls his Dork Voice, the slightly tuned-down version he uses to put shy kids at ease. “How might I be of assistance?” The girl purses her lips, sets her shoulders, shakes her shaggy bangs out of her face. Eddie thinks suddenly of Nancy and Robin and his heart clenches.

“Do you like games?” She asks.

He smiles softly. Drops the act. “Yeah.” He rests his scarred cheek in the cradle of his palm. “I like games. Do you like games?”

The dam breaks.

“Yes!” She replies at once, breathless with enthusiasm. “My family plays a lot of board games, like Game of Life and Monopoly, and they’re okay but kind of boring, but my brother taught me how to play Settlers of Catan and I really liked that, and my friends and I played Werewolf at a sleepover but we made up a bunch of extra rules to make it harder, and my cousin showed me this video game where the ending changes based on what choices you make and that’s so cool—”

“Alright, slugger.” Eddie can’t help but laugh. “What game are you looking to play?”

The girl collects herself. “Okay,” she says. “Okay, so. So I like it in games where there are rules, but also you can make stuff up? And you can do something weird that might ruin everything but also might pay off? And sometimes you have to work with other people to accomplish your goal, but alliances can break?” Eddie nods. “So there’s this one game. It sounds like so much fun, but nobody I know plays it. They play it on this show I like, well, okay, it’s not really a show, it’s, uh, okay do you know what a podcast is?” Eddie beams.

Steve swapped study hall coverage so he could pop in for lunch. Tonight is parent-teacher conferences, which means Steve’ll be home late, which means Eddie will get absorbed in a project and either crash upstairs or stumble home well after Steve’s gone to bed, which means they’ve got to snatch the time together they can get. They split a sandwich, a salmon burger from Costco Eddie threw in the air fryer and smashed up with avocado and grilled poblano pepper. (”It’s heart healthy!” “You’re heart healthy.” “Aw.” “I meant that as an insult.” “I’m not taking it as one, mwah mwah mwah.”) Eddie eats too fast, as he often does, and drags his nails over the veins of Steve’s forearm to distract himself from his gastrointestinal tract turning inside out.

“🎶Myyyy babyyyy myyyyyy babyyyyyy,” he hums against the shell of Steve’s ear. “You’reeee my babyyyyy sayyyy it to meeeeee🎶.” “Alright,” he huffs, tapping his fingers to the knobby bone of Eddie’s wrist. He presses a kiss to the underside of Eddie’s jaw and rises. “I gotta get back.” He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, gathers the papers he’d promised he’d grade but didn’t. Eddie watches him readjust, watches him smooth down the salt-and-pepper hairs dusting his temples, watches him push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He catches Eddie watching and asks, slyly, “What?”

Eddie wants to say, I love you. He wants to say, you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be. He wants to say, I’m so grateful I built this life with you. 

But he’s still himself, so what he says is, “Those khakis make your ass look great.”

Steve scoffs, and with a bitchy eye roll he sinks his weight onto his back foot and says, “I KNOW,” and there he is. There’s the man he married. He looks over his shoulder before he leaves, his honey-warm eyes liquifying Eddie’s spine.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “I love you too.” Eddie kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.  Pretty good life. 

[tzov]

I saved this as a draft for a long time but I want to share it now:

Boys and men in sports humiliate and injure to prevent girls and women from "encroaching" on what they consider their domain.

I've tried to talk about this many times in my life, and I always get the, "you just can't handle competition, you just expect me to go 'easy,' on you, you're just whiny/weak/holding up the game, this is unavoidable" when it was extremely obvious to me that I was being maliciously targeted by boys in an attempt to humiliate me, not in an attempt to simply win the game.

I recognize common threads between complex individual experiences:

-That the excess violence was CLEARLY not necessary to win;

-That it was done to me/other girls and not boys of a comparable size/skill (or, often, lesser size/skill);

-That it would occur when I was not that great of a threat i.e., they would spend the whole CASUAL game focused on shutting me down even though a lot else was going on; and then, when it was serious and we were actually trying, we would be having fun, getting rough, and then when I was up, the clear moment of a DECISION (with a petulant gleam in the eye) to make it unfun by SUDDENLY kicking/slapping/shoving me EXCESSIVELY hard (in a way I could not prepare for as it had no precedent in the game), PURPOSELY (this is not hard to tell) hurling the ball as hard as they can at my head while I'm not looking, etc. (and this was often on top of disproportionate, unsportsmanlike ridicule/taunting, i.e., condescending/disgusted/impatient that I never saw boys do to each other, instead of the fun shit-talking that I DO understand is part of sport);

-In situations where they would not allow me to play (i.e., ignore me completely as a teammate, refuse to assign me a role, etc.), because they ASSUMED I couldn't before I could prove otherwise, and then when I insist, instantly hurting me on purpose so I still never get a chance to show that I am skilled/competitive;

-And finally, it was ALWAYS in conjunction with specific comments about my femaleness, or comments about how I'm overconfident/need to be taught a lesson (and I would not include this point if I were bragging about my skills or messing up the game, I can tell if I'm holding up a competition).

In the end, all of this DOES result in my being less practiced and skilled, which serves as an ad hoc justification for it

In my memories, it seems like they are angry that a girl has the audacity to try, because nothing is more hammered into our heads than, "girls are weak and it's unthinkable to lose to them or take them seriously." Just because women can't compete with men at certain high level sports obviously does not mean that every individual girl will lose to every individual boy--- and it's so important for me to tell the difference that I am very thoughtful about whether it's "rowdy crazy high level man stuff--" I've never been interested in participating in that because it's scary and feels pointless.

As a lifelong athlete, I also have a lot of experience with accidentally getting hurt, with "intimidation" as a legitimate strategy, with making a beginner player quit because they obviously don't belong in your game; but these are all ways boys will try to pass off their cruelty.

It's also worth noting that boys my age were UNABLE to physically overpower me until about age 14, and all of this still happened (though it happened a lot more after that). I know that sometimes girls can hold up games and be overconfident and I can imagine that would be annoying. But sport is so important to me, and this pain is so deep, and I've been told these things all my life, so there's no way I would not be looking out for such nuance.

For most girls, it really only takes the one experience for them to never try again. For me, I BELIEVED people for a long time that I just needed to accept that things get competitive and rough-- and that's why I put myself through it over and over, only to find that something else, something far more sinister, was clearly at play.

In summary, men and boys are actively unsportsmanlike and unnecessarily cruel to girls and women who want to try to build skill and compete in various sports, and this is nothing to do with biological differences-- just misogyny.

[fire-but-ashes-too]

(Writerblr) intro post!

Hi! welcome to my blog! this is my (very late) writerblr/general/artblr intro, or just somewhere with all my general informations :)

please, go on and read *bows*

☆ Ash is my name on here and i go by she/her

★ Im a teen writer and artist, but i dream of acting

☆ im from italy

★ pan ace and quoiromantic (or wtfromantic its the same) (im still kinda questioning tho??? probs demiromantic??? idk?? feelings r weird atm)

☆ entp and introvert

★ im always up for tag games or stuff like that :)

☆ recently added tags! #ash writes- my writing ofc #ash and her rants- just me talking abt random stuff could be anything serious or not #ash on fire- probs me fangirling over something lol i may get overexcited beware

★ i relate to a spiritual and psychological level to black cats and all their other forms (aka regulus black, tori spring, aristotle mendoza etc etc etc)

i mostly write fantasy or fanfiction, but sometimes i engage in various genres as mystery, dystopian or surrealism :)

★ So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since

genre: fanfiction

audience: general/ teen and up

tropes: rivals to lovers, college AU, slow burn, a lot of fencing, paris✨

cw/tw: past rape/non con, ptsd, homophobia, wounds/blood

progress: i try to update every week but nothing's promised 🥲

snippet here:

Years ago he’d learned to mask his handwriting, so now he could easily forge any handwriting he wanted, if he was given a good example of it being used. There was something extremely interesting in how each person connected two letters to each other. How they wrote an “ar” was different from how they would write an “or”, how much the words were apart from each other and how much pressure they put in the paper told a lot about someone, to him it was like zodiac signs. He didn’t always have to copy other handwritings, not unless he wanted to throw the blame on that person. He just had to invent a brand new writing style, and be careful to not slip his between the cracks. And that’s exctly what he did in the letter. Before Jesper could finish his monologue about how much he had missed out in the past few months holed up in his office, a blackmail threat was ready to be closed inside the paper envelope, just the signature was missing, but he didn’t bother to add it. A proper threat always had to be anonymous, it was always better to give as little information you could. Everything could be used against you. The maroon wax sealed the opening with a satisfying fizzling and a single wisp of smoke. The clock chimed on the wall, it was already 6 pm, he had to go finish some assignments.

(previously titled: questionable decisions)

☆ The Rogue

genre: fantasy, dystopian

audience: teen and up

setting: a fantasy world im currently busy (trying) building

progress: just vibes really, two mainc characters, a couple sides and an outline plus one of the first chapters, not much really but im working on it

characters:

anne: the rogue from where i took the title.

shes a 17 y/o girl who lives in a bunker in a forest, on the run from the government as she's a "high traitor and liar who must be destroyed".

she has the ability to modify her face and appereance for a while and she has a prosthetic arm connected to her virtual friend Indigo.

thanks to it she's able to teleport and keep track of various things.

alexander: the son of the dictator, he's lived his life in a bubble until 2 years ago, when he finally managed to get more social contacts with people and (slightly) catch up on what he's missed, behind his father's back of course.

he meets anne when she's captured and figures she's his best shot at escaping his father domain.

snippet:

This time, she materialised in the shadows behind a bulding, which gave her enough cove for her to shift her facial features. Her nose a little bigger, her hair some shades brighter, her eyes more elongated and greener than the grass growing outside her doorstep and a splash of freckles to top it all off. It was way harder to do it without a mirror, and way more dangerous. For all she knew, she could’ve been looking like a girl with a fish head, and she didn’t know if that would be better or worse than looking like herself. Anne took out a hat and a silk scarf, she wrapped it around her neck and jumped in a group of tourists gazing at the city. In no time she was in the square, vendor’s stands circling her, colourful flags waving in the wind. She could’ve stayed like that for ever, stuck in the memories of her old life, but she knew it couldn’t last forever.

★ Flowers and Homicide

genre: mystery

audience: general

cw/tw: blood, dead bodies, autopsies

main character: Giada

she's a forensics student who one day stumbles (metaphorically) over a dead body in her neighbour's lawn and starts investigating.

progress: actually finished but in italian sadly so in the translation process

☆ Confessions of a timeless man

genre: short story, surrealistic

audience: teen and up

content warning: suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression

plot summary: a man is stuck living the same day over and over, after almost 10 years there, he tries to escape his curse by killing himself

progress: completed XD

(here's my ao3 btw)

you want to know more about me! why than you, here you go!

★ my favourite artists are Taylor Swift, Conan Gray, Arctic Monkeys, Chase Atlantic, Marina, Lana del Rey, Sabrina Carpenter, Mother Mother and Billie Eilish (theres more but i cant remember whoops)

☆ synesthetic bitch

★ other than writing, art-ing and reading i love baking/cooking and crocheting

☆ theatre kid over here, always up for screaming my lungs out

★ uhhh im a vegetarian

☆ i know a scary amount about death and murder (especially poisons)

★ i dont have a specific vibe, it usually changes every few months or so

☆ i probably have anxiety but ive never been to therapy so idk 💀

★ always up for fangirling :3 (im in too many fandoms *cries* buuut im most active on pjo, marauders, grishaverse and osemanverse, musicals and some books that i have boards for on my pinterest :D)

☆ i am terribly scared of insects, needles and dogs

★ my (quite unusual) sport is aerial dance, a circus speciality that looks really cool but is acctually really painful

☆ my pinterest, spotify and goodreads if by some reason you're really interested in the chaotic human being that i am :)

thank you for reading this farrr🥹🥹

have a great day/night/life :D

[tragedy-peanut-gallery]

Daeron ii’s family playing D&D cause I’m very bored and have too much time on my hands

(These are my silly hours so I wanted to write something a little whimsical that probably breaks canon. Idc ☺️💖)

Daeron: The Dm, uses all the old school dice and handbooks from when he and Elaena played as kids. All their preset character sheets got burned by Baelor so he spends way too much time helping everyone with their characters. Gets a little too railroad-y sometimes but makes up for it with a good story and funny voices

Myriah: Doesn’t play, but sometimes checks in to ask the kids if they “won” yet. Will occasionally do the voice of a patron or deity if she gets pestered enough

Baelor: Human oath of vengeance paladin 10000000%. Originally chose the class because he thought smite was cool but kept accidentally breaking his oath even if he was technically doing something good. He’s kinda bad at roleplaying but tries to steer everyone to make the right decisions

Aerys: High elf divination wizard. Probably spent two hours hogging all the source books in order to optimize his character to be the best spellcaster there ever was. Loves asking about every minute detail in any new room which annoys everyone- but! On the bright side, he is the best at solving every puzzle the party faces

Rhaegel: Dragonborn drakewarden ranger. Only made the character so he could be a dragon with a dragon friend, but doesn’t really roleplay or keep track of combat. Spends most of the games stacking everyone’s dice into towers, but starts paying attention when he’s finally allowed to fly his drake friend around

Maekar: Goliath beserker barbarian. When he was asked what sort of character he wanted to play he just said he “wanted to hit things really hard”. Doesn’t pay attention to roleplay at all but becomes an absolute beast in combat, the group’s master strategizer at age 6. Has probably accidentally killed a party member once (*cough* Baelor *cough*)

Daenerys: Half elf light domain cleric. Has a 10 page backstory written about her character and will take any opportunity to talk about it. Claims to prefer roleplaying and just being support but has probably dealt the most amount of damage in the party so far and has a consistent pattern of advocating for fights because it levels them up faster

+Bonus!

Shiera: Tiefling college of spirits bard. Originally wanted to play warlock but was mad about the limited spell slots so saves her evil backstory for another character. Most comitted roleplayer at the table, manages to talk the party’s way out of most of the fights Maekar and Daenerys gets them into, even though she’s like- 5, so most of her convincing ends up being “no, that’s mean >:(“

Brynden: Tiefling arcane trickster rogue. Unironically the edgiest character to be made, consistently brooding in the corner of every tavern they go into. Everyone thinks he might be a potential traitor but ends up being the biggest ride or die in the party and probably dramatically sacrifices himself to save them (Daeron writes him as actually escaping because he felt bad lol)

Daemon: Fallen aasimar oathbreaker paladin. Gives Daeron a minor aneurism when he asks if he can betray the party at some point. Otherwise a really well rounded character who only dabbles in the edginess, and puts up with everyone’s shenanigans enough to justify his ascension as the game’s bbeg

Aegor: Hates D&D. Banned from the table for calling everyone a bunch of nerds

[king-midas-fortnite]

Journal Entry: 00

This entry is a prequel of sorts to everything that's happened. Midas writes about one of his first nights after escaping the Underworld, and a new ability he discovers.

I have been home on the Marigold for all of about a week. While I am overjoyed to be back in the company of my crew, my family, something inexplicably terrible happened tonight. Something I’m struggling to make sense of.

I am far from free of Hades and his torment. I hear his taunts and the haunting voices of all the souls he allowed to goad me constantly. I feel their hands on me while I try to rest, gripping at my arms and throat like they are trying to drag me back every time I feel sleep finally come to me. When it does come, it’s less than an hour before I’m waking myself from dreams of everything I endured in my imprisonment. Horrific memories of the visions the shades plagued me with, along with the ever present memories of my daughter.

Even with all of this, I thought at least that I was physically free. I got out. I’m back. I’m alive and surrounded by people I care for, and who I know now without a doubt return the sentiment. But…I was wrong. I am out, but the underworld has not left me. It’s left behind a rot in my soul that I doubt I’ll ever be able to shake.

Earlier this evening, I surrendered my attempts to sleep and poured myself a few drinks. I’ve been doing that a lot more recently. I’m not proud of it, but there’s not much else I can do. Sometimes if I have enough, it blocks everything out just enough for a brief bit of rest. Anyway, I’d taken a bottle to my office, and had been sitting at my desk for who knows how long. I tried to get some work done, finish remaking files lost to the flood, but I couldn’t. The aforementioned voices of souls dammed to Hades’ domain were louder than usual. Instead of drowning them out, they got worse the more I drank.

The things they say to me…I don’t particularly want to write them down. Maybe someday I’ll be able to forget them. If I’m fortunate enough for that to happen, I don’t want a record to remind myself here. They’re horrific. I think that should be sufficient enough an explanation.

I’m sure—I KNOW, they are just hallucinations and these episodes will pass, but tonight was a nightmare. Usually sounding like a passing whisper or like they are speaking from another room, tonight they were far more corporeal. I could feel breath on my skin while they spoke to me. And again, their hands were all over me. It felt like they were trying to pull me out of my own body. I sat in my chair, holding my head and trying to fight against every instinct to flee where I was for so long as their whispering grew to screaming. If I didn’t know death would only mean returning to that place, it would’ve been a tempting option.

It all grew so loud, so intense and overwhelming that I finally screamed back for them to stop. At the same moment, I’d felt it. I couldn’t breathe. My chest was still. The cold chill of death settled quickly deep in my bones. I’d opened my eyes and shot up from my desk, knocking my chair back behind me while the gold skin of my hands turned the same sickly green of the Styx waters. I didn’t even have time to panic and wonder how I’d died again before I was falling down, passing through the floor underneath me as if it weren’t there at all. I opened my eyes again when my body struck the hard wood of the level beneath my office, completely knocking the wind from me.

When I’d reoriented myself and looked back to my hands, they were normal. My body was intact, gold and living flesh again. I’d stayed on the floor for a little while, staring up at the ceiling I had just phased through as I caught my breath. Eventually I stood and came back up here, confused…frightened. I stood at the doorway to my office a long while, staring at my desk. I don’t know why, or what could possibly possess me to try and recreate that feeling, but I needed to know if I could. Once I started hearing the whispers again, I latched on instead of trying to ignore them. I allowed them to start screaming, and I allowed the dread and cold of the dead to wash over me again.

I saw that wispy green enshroud the edges of my vision, and I stepped forward. Next thing I knew, I was across my office. I’d passed through my desk, and nearly hit the wall on the other side of the room before I was collapsing to my knees and sucking in breath like I’d been drowning. That’s what it had felt like. All over again it felt like being dead. My heart beat like a drum in my chest as it regained its rhythm, and air burned into my lungs as I felt heat return to my limbs.

After a moment I pulled myself up off the floor, fixed my chair, and sat back down where I am now. I have been up all evening, writing as the sun comes up just to try and get a handle on what’s happened. Whatever this new “power” is, I will not use it flippantly. I feel as though it has taken something from me already. If nothing else, a part of my sanity. I will never be free of Hades. Not completely, it seems. If that is the case, so be it. I’ll try to make use of this ability when it’s needed.

I just hope it never is.

Reminder: these are not "public" to other Tumblrverse characters. Okay to reblog, but please do not roleplay on journal entries!