#... now as for whether the skulls on question would be human or not I've never considered actually.

[sol-consort]

I always wonder while playing ME. Do Hanar hug you with two tentacles or all tentacles like some facehugger

I've put too much time into researching this and this is what I found so far.

Firstly, I assumed that mass effect wouldn't have addressed the hanar hugging habits at all so I straight up jumped to their real life counterpart, the jellyfish.

And let me tell you how surprised I was to find that no one has raised the question of "can you hug a jellyfish?"

Like we have had heated discussions about how a horse would wear pants, are you telling me that the 21st century humans never imagined hugging the one immortal animal without a brain or bones? Shame on all of us.

But, however, I was delighted to find that people did in fact raise the question of "can you kiss a jellyfish?"

And you can! You might die but I say the price is worth it.

Jellyfish don't seem that friendly to humans either so I question the hanar willingness to hug us.

After finding out that the first page results of two different search engines were completely off topic, I went to the other source of information where people were chronically online enough to ask these questions seriously, tiktok.

I did end up with fruitful results. I found this video and this other one of jellyfish kinda of hugging each other underwater? And as you can see they do use all of their tentacles. I also found a bunch of cute other videos about jellyfish and got distracted for an hour, 10/10 experience.

Now the scales were leaning in the favour of hanar using all of their tentacles to hug you. Finding the barrel jellyfish to be the closest to hanar, here is an image with a human for scale to how the hug might be.

But that raised the question of whether they would fall or float? Which lead to the need to figure out how they even moved because their tentacles looked too fragile to act as legs.

I knew tiktok was too unreliable and search engines too professional so I migrated to the one place where source material is treated like a holy grail, reddit.

Scouring the deserted mass effect subreddit while half lucid on pain killers, I did find some information on how the hanar conducted their day to day surface odyssies.

Based on this one hanar "blasto" from the citidal dlc, hanar do in fact walk on their tentacles as legs. But it's less of walking and more of scuttering around like a tiny crab in a tiny shell. The wiki adds more explanation, they use a mass field effect on their tentacles to carry them since they are in fact fragile and unable to lift up their big bodies.

After reading the wiki that I realised I should've gone to from the start, I found out the hanar have a skull, which means they have a brain to protect inside the said skull. So they are in fact not as squishy as earth jellyfish :(

Then I finished the wiki and still found no information on their hugging habit. At which point I was close to giving up.

Going back to reddit since I had nothing else to do, I suddenly found an oasis amidst the dry desert of hanar informations.

This picture of a hanar hugging an asari! From the "Mass Effect: Blasto: Eternity is Forever"

I was flabbergasted! The exact thing I was looking for, just straight up offered to me on a silver platter! The fates smiled my way.

So the definitive answer is that they seem to hug you with 4 of their 6 tentacles, leaving the remaining 2 in the far back to carry their weight and balance on.

There is however an argument I found that mentiond how blasto is actually considered a bad representation of hanar in the mass effect universe. Blasto seems to deliberately exaggerate and preform un-hanar like behaviour to appeal to the bipedal viewers. One example is carrying guns that hanars are know to be unable to actually effectively use for the lack of fingers.

Which raises doubts about the authenticity of the Blasto hug. Is it how hanar really hug or is this one attempting to appeal to the human-like viewers? Do hanars hug with all of their tentacles underwater and only do a 4 tentacle hug on dry lands? Can you kiss a hanar? Where can I get a copy of that asari hanar tentacle porn game?

I'm afraid to admit that I know that I know nothing.

Here is another cute video of jellyfish.

#☆Hanar #mass effect #hanar

[tomakeitbeautifultolive]

Something I've been wondering about: If Jon comes back as a fire wight like Beric Dondarrion and unCat, will he be able to get it up? Blood won't really be flowing in his body anymore, so would his dick be powered by fire magic or something like that?

I, too, have spent a great deal of time pondering Jon Snow’s dick, Anon. 😏 Jokes aside, I will admit right off the bat that most of what I have to offer is total speculation, but over-thinking the most minor details of ASOIAF happens to be my favorite pastime, so let’s go!

Like pretty much everyone who read the quote, I was totally thrown off by the “fire wight” revelation. Here’s the quote for reference:

“..poor Beric Dondarrion, who was set up as the foreshadowing of all this, every time he’s a little less Beric. His memories are fading, he’s got all these scars, he’s becoming more and more physically hideous, because he’s not a living human being anymore. His heart isn’t beating, his blood isn’t flowing in his veins, he’s a wight, but a wight animated by fire instead of by ice.”

So, an important distinction to make here is that this quote is about Beric Dondarrion specifically, not Jon Snow.

The condition of Jon Snow’s corpse might matter

George can be very clever with how he words things. Note that he goes into Beric’s deaths, describing multiple resurrections and how he’s falling apart before stating that his heart is no longer beating. It could be that a fresh “fire wight” might still possess bodily functions—at least at first. Catelyn, too, was a very sorry looking corpse by the time she was reanimated, therefore not a great comparison, either. Especially since it’s Beric rather than Thoros who, with very little life force to lend, resurrects her.

If nothing else, Jon will be “fresh”, and his location at the Wall means the low temperatures will help preserve his body even if the resurrection takes some time. 

And speaking of the Wall… there happens to be a special lady there who could help Jon, and whose powers happen to be amplified by the magic of the Wall...

Melisandre is profoundly more powerful than Thoros of Myr

Thoros may be a red priest, but otherwise he seems to be a pretty normal human man. We get a clue about when he converted from Jaime:

“Jaime had once heard Thoros tell the king that he became a red priest because the robes hid the winestains so well.”

Relatively recently, one might guess, as most children aren’t yet drunks. Further, he was never very dedicated to his faith, even questioning it at times.

Melisandre, on the other hand...

“Melisandre had practiced her art for years beyond count, and she had paid the price. There was no one, even in her order, who had her skill at seeing the secrets half-revealed and half-concealed within the sacred flames.”

While we don’t know much about her, this confirms that she spent countless years studying her craft, and no one in her order can match her skill. And no one believes in their faith more than Melisandre. Like in the television series, it’s a safe bet that she’s actually much older than the natural human lifespan, particularly if she managed to lose count of how many years she’s studied magic.

If Melisandre is the one to resurrect Jon Snow, she might not use a ‘last kiss’ method at all, or, if she does, it could be more powerful than anything Thoros is capable of.

Unlike Beric, Jon Snow is probably the prophesied prince

Speaking of Melisandre’s ability to glimpse secrets in the flames… there’s someone she sure seems to see a lot of:

“I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R'hllor shows me only Snow.”

“Skulls. A thousand skulls, and the bastard boy again. Jon Snow.”

“The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange.”

I know. There is some contention about who the Prince that was Promised is. Regardless of whether you agree that it’s Jon Snow, you’ve got to admit that Melisandre is seeing him in the flames for a reason. And if he’s not the prophesied prince, then perhaps his blood has something to do with it. It’s likely that, for some reason, the combination of Targaryen and Stark blood matters. At least, Rhaegar Targaryen seemed pretty convinced...

Whatever Jon Snow’s business is in Westeros… it’s unfinished. And part of that unfinished business might just involve becoming a father.

The emphasis put on Jon fathering a child is notable

Let’s go back to Jon’s first chapter ever. It opens with Jon at Robert’s feast, the author uses Jon’s eyes to describe the setting and multiple characters. And then enters Benjen Stark. This is when we really get to know Jon. When you read this passage, really consider the author’s intent here:

"You don't know what you're asking, Jon. The Night's Watch is a sworn brotherhood. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor."

"A bastard can have honor too," Jon said. "I am ready to swear your oath."

"You are a boy of fourteen," Benjen said. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up."

"I don't care about that!" Jon said hotly.

"You might, if you knew what it meant," Benjen said. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son."

Jon felt anger rise inside him. "I'm not your son!"

Benjen Stark stood up. "More's the pity." He put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Come back to me after you've fathered a few bastards of your own, and we'll see how you feel."

Jon trembled. "I will never father a bastard," he said carefully. "Never!" He spat it out like venom.

Suddenly he realized that the table had fallen silent, and they were all looking at him. He felt the tears begin to well behind his eyes.

This is how George R.R. Martin chooses to introduce us to Jon Snow. And gods, that always hits me right in the gut. It’s absolutely supposed to. Jon’s trembling, venomous anger is palpable. You feel the deep hurt and resentment in his words, right down to his core. Jon says he doesn’t care—but the bite in his words and the tears welling in his eyes tell us otherwise.

Jon Snow easily embraces his vow of celibacy. At first. And then comes Ygritte. And after getting his first taste of love and later flirting with the idea of becoming a lord when it’s offered to him by Stannis, Jon Snow begins to imagine what it might be like to have a wife...

“I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall.”

And look what happens the moment he does dare to dream of it...

“I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade.”

And the feeling transitions into an almost tangible hunger felt by his wolf, Ghost.

Speaking of Ghost…

Grab your tinfoil! ‘Cause Jon’s life might’ve already been ‘paid for’ ...By Daenerys

First… in case you didn’t know, Daenerys is probably a skinchanger:

“The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch on the reins, and the filly responded. As she turned to ride back, a firepit loomed ahead, directly in her path. A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head.”

Basically, it goes like this:

As Daenerys wanders the Dothraki Sea in search of food after being whisked away by Drogon, she hears a wolf’s howl.

“Will (Ghost) howl for me when I'm dead, as Bran's wolf howled when he fell?”

Feeling lonely yet no less hungry, she eats some strange green berries. Her stomach begins to cramp.

“My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb.”

Unfortunately, Daenerys then experiences some horrible diarrhea. Poor girl! I don’t bring it up to be crass, but because this purge bears striking resemblance to an earthly drug called Ayahuasca—a substance that, aside from emptying your bowels, is often used as a means to ‘open your third eye’ (Just as Bran does in the crypts, and he can finally reach Jon and Ghost…)

Dany falls asleep and begins experiencing trippy dreams about her brother—perhaps even achieving contact with the other side? Then...

“When she woke, gasping, her thighs were slick with blood.”

Assuming it’s nothing more than her period, Dany begins to wonder the last time she bled—hinting that it might’ve been a little while.

“The sight of so much red frightened her. Moon blood, it's only my moon blood, but she did not remember ever having such a heavy flow.”

Maybe a bit of a stretch, I know. But… this wretched and graphic scene of Dany’s loose bowels really made me wonder what in seven hells George was thinking. I was so embarrassed for Dany that I HAD to figure out why he’d do this to her.

And my best guess is that she’s using these latent skinchanging abilities to tap into this strange connection with the “blue rose” over at the Wall of Westeros and the silent wolf who finally howled for help upon his death… And so, Dany’s miscarriage may be the death that will pay for Jon’s life.

I might’ve found some more evidence to back this claim up, this is very new ‘evidence’, so bear with me:

“Fire”, in the world of ASOIAF, often translates to “life”. As is seen here in Sam’s speech following Aemon’s death (thanks, bridge4!):

“He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out.”

Further, according to the wiki:

“When a follower of the Lord of Light dies, priests fill their mouths with fire and breathe flame into the deceased”

In the House of the Undying, Dany receives a series of chilling prophecies, one of which happens to be about fires:

“Three fires you must light, one for life, one for death and one to love”

I know, I know. Drogo’s pyre, the Khals, etc etc. But George might be playing with double meanings here… So, if we think of fires as conceptions, this could maybe mean:

One in exchange FOR the Dragon’s lives (Life)

One in exchange FOR Jon’s resurrection (Death)

One conceived (likely with Jon) and carried to term (TO love)

Food for thought! Especially considering that, like Jon, Dany possesses the blood of Old Valyria, and these sacrifices are probably all the more powerful as a result. But even if I’m dead wrong about that prophecy, well, fire still broadly means life, which bodes well for our brooding ‘bastard’, who might just end up as a “fire wight”.

Hopefully something in this drivel has given any Jon fans reading this a little bit of faith that, despite the slight setback of death, Jon will still be able to exercise his, uh, virility when he finally meets Dany. 😅 Thanks for the ask!!

#answered #jon snow #fire wight #resurrection #jonerys #asoiaf theories #asoiaf speculation #my theories #loving the asks since I can't do much else while recovering #keep 'em coming if you got 'em!

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Demon in Disguise x Angel Undercover

Summary: Being a demon was boring, particularly in peacetime. For Freed, passing the time consisted of sneaking into nightclubs and forcing men off the moral path. Thankfully, the angel with beautiful wings and almost rigid set of morals was always there to make things interesting.

Notes: This is Day Two of Fraxus Week, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. Be sure to look at their blog, I'm sure there's lot of other great Fraxus content on there for the event already.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

Off The Moral Path

Year: 2025

Location: Paris, France

"Come now, Darling," Freed purred, gently stroking the raven-haired beauty on the cheek. "You know you want to."

To think he'd come to this. Freed Justine – Albion the Slayer, Absolute Shadow, The Nightmares of Angels – resorted to flirting with men in a bar. It was humiliating. He was a soldier, a demonic mage whose power was the stuff of legends, and by rights everyone in the damned club should be bowing for him, on their knees and begging for his mercy. He would have been kind to them, were they giving him the respect he was owed, and perhaps he would have made their night more interesting with a display of his power.

But he couldn't. The war between demons and angels had long since ended, humans had forgotten about the battles and all the people who had been part of it, and as such they didn't know him. To them, Freed was nothing but another human. Better looking of course, but otherwise no different.

Frankly, it was boring.

War between unkillable forces was fun. You didn't have to worry about being hurt, because you couldn't be, and a demon didn't care for guilt. It was simply posturing, and it had allowed Freed to show off the magic that he'd been slowly building from his creation. He was explosively powerful, and he'd sent many of the enemy forces back to heaven time and time again. It was fun seeing them disintegrate as they screamed, but now that was gone.

Technically speaking, he shouldn't have even been in the nightclub at all. Earth was off limits, but he was hardly doing anything too bad. He wasn't poisoning a water system, or luring a man to his death. He was just having a little fun. Nobody could begrudge him a little magically fuelled flirting.

Well, one angel might. But he hadn't arrived yet.

"I dunno," The raven-haired man shrugged, swirling his drink absently.

"I do. You want to do it and you know it," Freed smirked, and his eyes glowed red for a moment. He placed his hand on the mans exposed forearm, and magic flared in his next words. "I'll do it if you will. And you've got nothing to be ashamed of."

A lie, but a fun one.

"You know what," The man said, confidence in his words now. "You're right."

The man was standing up a moment later, walking towards the raised stage with a pole attached to it, removing his shirt. Hm, if the sounds of the cheering at the sight were reflective of the mood, Freed had been right about him having nothing to be ashamed of. It was good guess; Freed really had no idea what a human saw as attractive anymore.

Freed watched from the bar, drinking his wine with a smirk as the man began to gyrate over the pole. Men and women alike cheered, and Freed liked to think that he had done his good deed for the day. Of course, the dancing man might disagree when the spell wore off, but that was hardly a problem.

He'd dispel his magic as the man was dancing. It would be fun to see him crumple.

"The hell are you doing?" A loud rumbling voice came from behind, and Freed smirked.

Right on time.

"What does it look like, my dear," Freed said, not looking towards the angel looming over him. "Exercising my Devil given right to annoy you. Is it working?"

"Take the spell off him," The angel demanded. "Now."

"During his dance. Imagine the embarrassment, it would be debilitatingly humiliating," Freed laughed quietly. "Would he be able to look himself in the mirror? Would he be allowed back out of his home? Would he cry? Rather cruel, aren't you angel?"

"Shut it, devil," The angel growled.

"So rude," Freed tutted while grinning. When a hand planted itself firmly on his shoulder, Freed turned to look to the man. "Good evening, Laxus."

It was always disheartening to see Laxus disguised as a human. He was good looking in their terms, with broad shoulders, a thin waist, handsomely rugged features, and a damn cocky smirk when he used it. But Freed always missed seeing his wings. They were long stretching, tinged and scarred by lightning, with feathers so soft that Freed couldn't decide whether he wanted to stroke them or to pluck them out to see the man scream. He was a magnificent beast of an angel – the counterpart to Freed's demon – and very fun to annoy.

"Hypnosis on humans is fucking illegal," Laxus growled.

"Then it's good that I didn't use it," Freed dismissed, placing the wine on the bartop. "I only lowered his inhibitions. He's lost all doubt and regret, and he's simply doing what he wants to do. Hardly a war crime."

"Tell him that when the police come," Laxus murmured, and Freed laughed. Would the man be arrested before he was naked? Freed hoped not; human anatomy always made him chuckle. "You ain't supposed to be on earth. The hell is wrong with you?"

"You're here," Freed retorted, ignoring the question. "Won't you get in trouble too, angel?"

"I'm only here because I knew you were pulling this shit," Laxus whispered harshly, hand on Freed's shoulder tightening. "And I wanted to get you to cut it the hell out before," he jutted his chin up, "they figure out what you're doing."

"But the danger is half the fun," Freed smirked.

Laxus said nothing else, instead surrounding them both with a wave of angelic magic. As was natural for a demon, the overall holiness of the gesture sent a shooting of pain over Freed, but he grit his teeth and allowed the spell to take effect. A moment later, he was teleported to a blank, bland, nothing room nestled in the middle of limbo.

This was always how his little dance with Laxus went. Freed would sneak down to earth, annoy, and torment a human in a way with very few long-lasting consequences so that he could get a fill of fun, Laxus would somehow be informed of what Freed had done and would stop him before any other heavenly figures realised what he was doing, and he would be teleported away. It had happened hundreds of times, and always ended with Laxus yelling at him for his stupidity but never actually doing anything to stop him.

His face would soon be angry, and his wings would be spasming and flickering. Anger was a good look on the man.

But, truly, this dance was getting boring. They were all-powerful beings, opponents by very nature, who had met in the middle of battel and had underwent fights that would be studied for history in years to come. They shouldn't have gotten stuck in a rut. It was almost insulting.

"Why don't you leave me alone?" Freed asked before Laxus could begin shouting.

"What?" The angel asked, taken unaware.

"Well, I understand that your side likes to preach forgiveness and repentance and so on, so perhaps I can understand you trying to stop me the first ten or so times, but we've been doing this for years now," Freed smirked, leaning forward and leaning against a white table. He looked up at Laxus from under his lashes, flirtatious and smirking. "I'm not changing my ways, and you know it. So why not leave me to get killed by your darling overlords?"

Laxus tensed his jaw, grit his teeth, and let his wings shoot out from his back. What a lovely sight. Freed quickly removed his own human disguise, horns cracking from his skull and eyes turning a red and purple swirl.

"Everyone can improve," Laxus retorted. "I think that, given-"

"I've known you for centuries, Laxus, I know when you're parroting that ridiculous heavenly mantra," Freed cut off the argument before it could be made. "I want to know why you, angel supreme Laxus Dreyar, is being ever so kind to me so often."

He said nothing, and Freed grinned.

"May I offer my thoughts, since you don't seem to want to answer," Freed continued. "I think we're more alike than you think. You and I, you see, we're fighters. You can claim pacifism all you want, but I know you loved every moment of engagement. Showing off your power, proving yourself to be an overwhelming force of nature, it was everything you ever wanted. And then it was taken away from you, and you were at a loss of what you could do. Everything was peaceful and there was nobody to do battle with. Nobody to impress. Nobody but me."

"That ain't what happened," Laxus grunted. He walked towards a door Freed assumed would take him back to heaven, and Freed quickly intercepted.

"It's exactly what happened. I'm your opponent, in this little game we've created for ourselves," Freed smirked, took a single step forward so he was in Laxus' space and yet not quite touching him. "It was fun, as games go, but I think we should move past it. Flip the board and do something a little more," he smirked, and raked his claws over Laxus chest before hissing, "tactile."

Laxus' face held an expression Freed was familiar with. He was on the brink of doing something he wanted to do more than anything, but knew it was wrong. A look that, on humans, brought Freed a giddy thrill.

Seeing it on Laxus was euphoria.

The angel swallowed slightly, looking over Freed's face, his claws, his horns and then back to his face again. His eyes were dilated just a little, body tensing and muscles hardening as if he was trying to steel his resolve. He was so close to breaking, and making both of their lives both more pleasurable and much more interesting. He just needed a nudge. Freed was happy to oblige.

"That was the problem with the war, I feel," He purred, voice like silk and seductive. "Place men of unsurmountable power together and make them fight. It fuels passion. We were purpose built to feel strongly about one another. To obsess over one another. To rely on one another," He raised his hand and dug his claws into Laxus' jaw. "What did they think would happen when we could no longer fight? Falling for each other was inevitable."

"I ain't fallen, not for you," Laxus murmured as he leant close to Freed, tenseness giving way. He was even smiling, ever so slightly, and that was all the encouragement that he needed.

"Aren't you?" Freed grinned, stroking Laxus' cheek and loving the restrained mewling that bubbled in the angel's throat.

"No," Laxus murmured, bringing his lips closer to Freed, and his grin was just as unhindered as Freed's.

"Well," Freed purred, pressing into Laxus' chest. "Put your money where your mouth is then."

He closed the gap between them, and two millenniums of tension exploded to life in a slow, tender kiss. The mixture of magics gave their kiss a burning, fizzing sensation that spurred them both on. The contrast of their bodies stung and felt fantastic, addictively peculiar and driving them to kiss harder.

Laxus' wings outstretched behind him, then wrapped around them both. The comforting feathers tingled at Freed's back, and he leant against the man with a smirk as they pulled apart. Laxus was smiling at him, not a lingering sense of doubt in sight, and Freed grinned.

As fun as it would have been to taint an angel, bring him to his knees and make him turn his back on his culture, Freed had truly believed his words. They were fated to be together; it only made sense. Freed had broken countless rules set after the war, and he should have been struck down by lightning or burned at the stake for his crimes. Even with Laxus looking over him, the powers of fate were more powerful, and breaking of the rules came with immediate punishment. He hadn't been killed, despite his flagrant disregard of the rules. There was a reason for that, and he liked to think he'd been saved for Laxus. The fact Laxus had showed no regret, nor no fear about what he had done, seemed to suggest Laxus agreed with the sentiment.

Now, Freed was in a new game, a much more fun one. A game where it wasn't simply a demon fighting against an angel. No, this game had only one side. A flirtatious demon with an abhorrence for boredom, and his darling, virtuous fallen angel. Who would dare oppose them?

Le Parisien – 02.11.2025

Une Célébrité Populaire Prise Dans Le Scandale De La Nudité En Public.

Hier soir, le chanteur et danseur populaire Grey Fullbuster a été arrêté à Paris. Les rapports ont affirmé que, dans une démonstration de confiance ivre, il est monté au sommet d'une scène dans la discothèque Devil's Door, et a commencé à enlever tous ses vêtements et à danser contre un poteau. Les réactions à la situation vont du dégoût moral au plaisir divertissant. Dans une déclaration faite par le manager du chanteur, Fullbuster a affirmé que "Le diable m'a fait le faire".

#Fraxus Week #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #One Shot #Modern AU #Angels and Demons AU #Word Count: 2.2k

[aetheternity]

Omg this is so pure!! I'm in love!! Thank @methargicism for this prompt. I changed it a little tho..

"Rayla." Callum called as they walked but was ultimately ignored.

"Raylllaa." He tried again dragging her name with a sing songy voice. He noticed the slight change in her shoulder blades the way they flinched up and ultimately relaxed back in annoyance.

"Rayla!"

"What?!" She screamed back, clapping her hands over her mouth immediately after. "Will you stop calling me. What'd you want anyway?"

"You were ignoring me." Callum replied with a soft shrug, quickening his pace to be right beside Rayla.

"I'm not ignoring you. I was just... thinking.."

Callum raise an eyebrow. It wasn't uncommon for Rayla to get lost in her thoughts so much so that everything around her disappeared but today it seemed less like harmless daydreaming and more like concern over something.

"What's bothering you? If you don't mind me asking."

Rayla's shoulders hunched up again before falling as if she was forcing them down. Her back slouched and her eyes darted away from Callum.

"I wonder how long it's gonna take.." Rayla started, "I mean for humans and elves to actually make peace.. Runan's gonna hate me for running off like I did.. If he even survived.... And how's he gonna feel about... about you."

She really did have a lot on her mind.

Callum rested a hand on Rayla's shoulder stopping her stride and turning her to face him. "Stop worrying about what you can't control. You'll make yourself crazy. We've done what we can so far and we're gonna keep working hard until elves and humans can be friends and work together. You'll see, it's me and you."

Rayla's face warmed with the sweet words, blush deepening with the last sentence. You'll see, it's me and you.

Callum seemed to pick up on it too because he quickly backed up, hands flying to his pockets with a need to cover them. "And Ezran." He added quickly though it was a little late.

Rayla smirked a soft chuckle cresting off her lips. "Yes of course and Ezran.." She giggled.

Callum didn't know what it was maybe the atmosphere or Rayla's little giggles but he found himself staring at her horns when she leaned forward and stood back up straight. Eyes enamored with the pointy tips and smooth purple color of them.

"Hey Rayla?"

Rayla smirked, hands on her hips. "Please Don't tell me you're gonna start that again." She joked

"No no I'm done with that." He assured, eyes moving back up to her horns. "I was just intrested in your horns. Can I.. touch them?" Nervousness peaked throughout his whole body as the question exited his mouth. Though it was definitely having a worse effect on Rayla.

Her eyes widened like saucers and her face brightened to the color of a newly ripe tomato. Callum didn't have time to even retract his question before Rayla was racing off past him. Up into a tree.

"Rayla wait!" He knew he wasn't supposed to yell as that could draw attention they really didn't need but he couldn't help it.

What had he done wrong? Were elves horns super sensitive or something? He probably shouldn't have asked.

Even though Rayla had lectured him on staying together when they'd first entered Xadia she wasn't against it now. She'd jumped at least 15 feet away from him climbing the tallest tree Callum had ever seen in his life.

"Rayla please!" He called, worry filling his voice against his own will. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I take it back!"

Climbing trees was no big deal for Callum when he was younger. Him and Ezran had begun a sort of competition between each other to climb to the highest branch they could. But the last time they'd done that he'd been at least 5 years younger and was in his city. Now he was in Xadia climbing a tree to get his moonshadow elf friend down after he'd accidentally hurt her feelings.

And nothing about that is normal in the slightest.

"Rayla!" He continued to call as he tossed his leg up to a branch near his shoulder. He was hoping for an angered response of lower your voice. Even maybe a Callum shut up if she really was pissed. But neither of that came as he climbed.

"Rayla.." He struggled, jacket getting caught on a branch. "I'm so sorry.." He whined unhooking himself and hoisting his arm up over a much smaller branch. "Please forgive me.. I take it back!"

Still no answer. All the leaves in the trees began to jumble, his breaths slipping out in heavy huffs. "Rayla.." He laid against the branch near his head all movements paused. His palms felt wet whether it was his own imagination or reality was unclear.

He shut his eyes, brain banging unsoothingly in his skull. The branch under his foot made a cracking noise, Callum felt his weight shift and bounce. He was gonna fall. The branch was gonna give way... But he couldn't bring himself to move. Couldn't even open his eyes.

When the branch broke he fell but not very far before a pair of arms were hoisting him up around the waist. A breathy groan sounded above him and his tired wet eyes opened to Rayla's frustrated face above him.

"You dumb human! What do you think you're doing? You could've died!" Callum grasped the branch Rayla was trying to pull him up to. Her hands were wrapped tightly around his waist in a way he found comforting on his hot skin. Once he was balanced and seated he shut his eyes again. Heart beat bouncing disturbingly fast.

"Are you ok?" Her breath tickled his cheek and his pulse flickered when he felt her soft fingers gently push his sweaty brown hair away from his face.

He sat still till his body cooled down before his eyes flickered open landing on the concerned girl in front of him. "Rayla I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

Rayla's fingers flinched on Callum's shoulder, but she didn't let go. "What're you talking about?"

"When I asked to touch your horns you ran away... I assumed I offended you or something."

Rayla's cheeks flushed again but she didn't run. Her eyes closed, quickly flicking open again but not looking at Callum. "Callum... You didn't offend me."

Her eyes stayed locked on the leaves below them, hands moving away from Callum's shoulders slowly like she was scared he'd fall.

"Callum.. When you touch an elf's horns... It's the equivalent of... Two humans kissing each other's foreheads.. Or Even cuddling..." Rayla informed.

Of course this information was a bit shocking but it didn't waver Callum's curiousity or make him uncomfortable.

"Is that bad?"

"Wh-what?!" If it were possible for Rayla to become more red then she already was it happened.

"Would it be bad.... If it was me?.."

"N-no! I mean! Callum!! Two elves rub each other's horns as a sign that they want to date!! It's before the first kiss! It's sacred!!" She squealed, arms cluched to her sides like she was her own lifeline.

"And You can't do it with a human.."

"Callum!"

"Rayla." He smiled all gooey in the face and warm in his eyes. "I won't force you. And if you say no I'll back off right now but.. Would it be that bad if it was me?.."

Rayla's face cooled from its bright red to a soft pink as she calmed. Her arms came down to grasp the branch in the space between them. She pushed up onto one knee other one balancing over the edge. Her fingers shook a little but Callum was there to catch her if she needed help.

Once she was less than 3 feet away, she bowed her head softly, pushing her head up close to Callum's. "Go.. Ahead.." Breath stuttering a bit where it left her mouth and bounced off the trees.

Now that she was this close Callum could feel his body warm and his fingers shook where he began to bring them up to the tip of Rayla's horn.

He started sweetly just gripping the hard apendage with two fingers at the tip before slowly petting her, running his fingers down the length of her whole horn. The branch they were sitting on shuttered with Rayla as she shivered almost purring a little.

Her hair fell back as she streched to look at Callum. "Sorry.. I've never had my horns touched like this before..." And Callum couldn't tell if it was his own imagination but Rayla definitely looked at his lips before her eyes flashed back up.

"It's ok. I think it's cute." Now it was Callum's turn to blush, Rayla joining him as she leaned back against the trees rough branch.

"Thanks.."

After a couple minutes of silence Callum smirked focusing on Rayla again. "So... I guess it's time for our first kiss."

"I will push you out of this tree."

I'm gonna fail math because I was writing this instead of doing my work.

#this ship is gonna kill me #uggghhh rayla is so cute!! #rayllum you're doing amazing!! #rayllum said straight rights #rayllum #rayla x callum #tdp rayla #the dragon prince #tdp callum #tdp s2

[sabertoothcattery]

so i know NOTHING about vulture culture? i'm wondering if you intentionally kill animals for their bones or you just find them? i've seen really cool art projects using the bones, really symbolic of life, but i don't know if the process hurts the animal

very long, under a cut

tbh it depends. I, personally, have not killed any animal. Unless you count bugs. My family members shoot groundhogs as pests, and my grandfather holds a crop permit for taking deer that eat his corn, though he rarely exercises it. I’m not going to say categorically that I’ll never kill an animal. 

BUT it will never ever solely be for its bones. That animal will be eaten and what is inedible for humans will be given back to nature, to the vultures and foxes and even the feral cats that people dump here. Its hide will tanned and used as leather for whatever we happen to need some leather for at that time. And then its bones will be used, for art, for my own furthering education, for my spiritual practice, and for anything you can make from bones. I really want to make a bone awl sometime. I want to use sinew as string. I want to eat some bone marrow. I want to make a cool jacket. 

But for now, I find them. Sometimes I find them with meat still on, like the deer speeders hit and kill around the bend. Sometimes they die of some disease and nothing eats them, like my first raccoon. A lot of them are roadkill and that’s tragic. I have a dog skull my friend found on her backlot and she has no idea where it came from. It had a collar but no tag, no phone number, it was down to bones so if it was microchipped that’s gone too. It’s terrible and she felt she should bring it inside and not let it fade to dust even though its apparent owner didn’t feel the same way.

(To go a little further, in case you wondered, I personally do not support fur farms. It’s pointless in my opinion, it only perpetuates mutations. And you can’t eat fox.)

To speak more broadly of the VC community, you will find the whole spectrum of opinions. What I don’t think you’ll find is someone who kills callously, because VC is at its core a respect for the dead, who once were living beings. We have a contingent of smart, trained trappers and hunters here and I respect what they do. It’s another way to connect yourself with the natural world, you have to learn where animals go, when, why, in order to be successful. There are also a lot of people who are firmly against hunting, will not buy hunted bones, and a small minority among them who try to stir things up. Most times this does not work. VC is pretty accepting, because... we already collect dead things. There are vegans and hunters, Christians and pagans and atheists of all stripes, everything. Pretty much as long as you’re civil and don’t break the law you’ll be quite welcome here!

As to the question of whether the animal is hurt. It’s complicated. Death is painful. Everything instinctively fights against it. Generally, you would think that a quick end would be better, less time for terror and pain and futile fighting. And you can get a quick death via broken neck by car, or by a well placed bullet. You can also have an agonizing death staggering on broken legs and shattered skulls from cars, paralysis from poison, and internal bleeding from a bad shot or a hunter who couldn’t track you down. (I found a deer like that. In his honor I have a memorial for these bad deaths. After that, taking them in is the least I can do, as well as advocate for better technique.) Once the animal is dead, it’s up to you and your feelings as to whether you feel they can live on in any way, and whether you’re comfortable using their remains.

In the end, if vulture artwork speaks to you and you are interested in pursuing it, I welcome you wholeheartedly. Everyone has their own ethics and no matter what they are I believe you’ll be able to collect and create it a way that is tasteful and respectful to your standards. Thank you for taking the time to ask such a thoughtful question, and for reading to the end.

#vulture culture #on vc ethics #longpost is long! #Anonymous

[theostry]

What is the Dresden Files? I've heard about it before, but never quite understood what it is about. Could you please explain?

Oh, the Dresden Files. I love the Dresden Files, so I’m going to do my best to convince you to read them.

The Dresden Files is a series of contemporary urban fantasy novels by Jim Butcher. They feature a wizard named Harry (no, not that one) who works as a private investigator in Chicago, where mostly he’s considered a whack-job, a con man, or a decent detective with a cheesy gimmick. His allies include a smol but tough-as-nuts police lieutenant, a snarky spirit of intellect who lives in a skull (don’t ask him whose), an honest-to-Jeebus holy knight, and that one old wizard who thinks he’s alright. His enemies include various evil sorcerers who want to kill people without his interference, wizard Wardens who think HE’s an evil sorcerer, blood-sucking vampires, modern technology (magic is tech-bane), his insane Faerie godmother (for real), a mob boss who wants to make use of his services whether he agrees or not, sexy vampires, honest-to-Lucifer fallen angels, gross rotting Dracula-esque vampires, necromancers with a god complex, vengeful Faerie queens, and all the bills he struggles to pay. (One of these lists is longer than the other. That is Harry Dresden’s life.)

It’s set in a world where vanilla mortals are unaware of the supernatural, not because of some big conspiracy, but because nobody believes in that shit anymore and denial is a powerful thing. But under the surface there are creatures and powers and factions, all with their own ways and purposes, many of whom see us as lunch. 

The series started out as a young cocky author’s exercise in proving his writing professor, a successful author with 40 published novels, wrong. He followed all her ‘useless’ advice to demonstrate what a piece of cliche trash it would produce -- and the result was immediately snapped up for publication as Storm Front: Book 1 of the Dresden Files. We’re now up to book 16 (forthcoming), with two volumes of short stories, a TV series of dubious quality, several original graphic novels, and audiobooks narrated by James Marsters on the side. Jim, you glorious twat. 

Each novel is a ‘case file’ with a central mystery to be solved. Many can stand alone to some extent, but the overarching plot is one of the best things about the series (along with the world-building). Butcher has known where it’s going from the start, and does not fall prey to ‘they don’t exist when they’re off-screen’ syndrome, so there are very few plot holes, character development is believable, actions have consequences and a Chekov’s Gun might go off ten books after it was last seen. Fifteen novels in, that means the world and the characters look very different than they did at the start, and the stakes keep getting higher. The plan is for 22 or 23 case books, then a finale in the form of a Big Apocalyptic Trilogy -- and at this rate, ‘apocalyptic’ is not looking like an exaggeration. 

But the absolute BEST thing about the Dresden Files -- along with the tight plotting and intricate world-building -- is that for all its fantastical elements, it’s  a story about being human. It’s about good and evil at war in the heart, not (just) the world; it’s about choice and consequence, freedom and responsibility, nature and will, love and sacrifice. It asks the question, “what does it mean to be a good person in a terrible world?”, and doesn’t give you any easy answers.  It does this while hitting the full emotional range: expect to laugh and to cry horrible, ugly tears, possibly at the same time, and to throw the book across the room at least once. 

Now enough out of me, go read Storm Front.