#another damn Vast ritual

[entities-of-posts]

Why are all of your links in pinned post broken I'm frothing at the mouth let me in let me see the secrets let me in let me in let me in let me in let me in

I have no idea, they work for me, but they don’t work for some people… you can try manually searching for the tags which title the arcs, and either scroll to the end and then read back up or tack on the chrono function yourself. It’s build into the links, which might be what doesn’t work for you. Recurring characters also have their own tags.

I’ll tag this post with all the arc tags, so you can click on them, as the search function is terrible.

Of course, a lot of the lore is actually on discord now!

#statements #the fateful mass ritual #the dreaded Homestuck night #first date with war #the puppets' tarantella #the victory sleepover #cursed book club #the fly’s gamble #a Strange conversation #teddy rescue #basement showdown #SPIRAL SLIDE!!! #A tour of artifact storage #history repeating itself #a deal with the devil #Devil's bellow #another damn Vast ritual #second date with War #a Spider visits artifact storage #david against goliath #a little fly in the web #down with the church of the singing choir #the unknowing again #the threads snap #a little light preserved #the strategy meeting (cookies provided) #the dreaded Homestuck night… 2!

[lavenderslabyrinth]

A Sacrificial Game

King!Dragon x Reader

Masterlist

This is my first post since deciding to kick off this new account. It’s rewritten from an old story I had posted on here long ago once upon a time. I hope you enjoy~

CW: ♢ Mention of Near Drowning ♢ Blood/Injury ♢ Abduction ♢

The coos of morning doves and the gentle brushing of branches against your bedroom window were quickly drowned out by the boisterous laughter and squabbling of your many siblings. Your attempt at trying to drown them out via the trusty quilt-over-head technique was quickly plundered as they burst through your sacred doorway. With energy only children can manage to conjure from the depths of hell at 8 in the morning, they jostled you around roughly, stealing away the comforting warmth you'd had. Surely, you'd thought, this was an act of merciless torture. Your skin prickled with goosebumps and, irritably, you managed to croak out a yip. "Ow! Off!" Your anger did nothing more than make them giggle as they lightly bruised you with their rough play. "Lemme sleep, dammit! Off! Get off!" Taking evident joy out of your misery, the damn gremlins only gave you a round of smug looks. They did relent, however it was truthfully only to avoid your flailing swats at their heads. “Momma said we ain’t eatin’ breakfast till you get up. So get up lazy" A chorus of agreements and more jostling only drew a strong eye roll from you. But, nevertheless, you shooed them off and sat up, groggily rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Normally they'd just eat without you, leaving the leftovers warmed in the oven to be picked at by whoever passed by, but today was a special occasion. It was your birthday. Normally birthdays were happy events full of gifts, smiles, and all things merry-making-- but this one was different. While the younger whelps scurried off to the old wooden table, none the wiser to the fate that you now had to face, a heavy weight hung over the heads of the adults in the house. The thickness of the air palpable as you stepped into the kitchen and saw the grim look on your mother's face.

The saying goes that a starving savage is less likely to ravage your home if you give it a single meal-- and such began the gruesome, superstitious tradition... Once a year, one unlucky village that bordered the human kingdom would be chosen to place the names of all it's unmarried, of-age residents into a box and perform a drawing. Whichever sorry soul was picked would be ripped away from their homes by the temple, never to be seen again. The nobility liked to call it one of the "highest of all honors" a commoner could receive. The common people? You call it human sacrifice.

At least, most of your people do. Despite that being so, the vast majority of the population feared the very notion of abandoning the ritual. Why? Because the entire purpose was to "sate the otherfolk's thirst for human blood." One sacrifice, one year free from their wrath.

Your skin crawled at the very idea of it all as you leant down, clumsy hands tying up the laces of your worn leather boots.

As a child, you believed every word that hung off of the elders' tongues down near the pub. The fascination and wonder of another terrifying world outside the kingdom's tall, stone walls ignited your naive little heart. But with age, it grew evident to you that they were no more than simple old widows and drunkards with nothing better to do with their remaining time than talk stories and scare little children with tall tales. How were you supposed to believe beasts, much less entire civilizations of them, would be satisfied by the blood of one person if they truly wanted to attack a meager village, much less an entire country? Who decided they even wanted that blood? It was an argument you’d tried to raise countless times with your village council only to have it shot down with a simple “Well the Chosen never return, do they?” It pissed you off to no end. It didn't even take two wrinkles in the brain to conclude that it was more likely the animals of the woods, the elements-- or worse, other humans that caused the sacrificed to meet their demise; but no point you made would ever change their stone cold hearts.

And as though your age wasn't enough to make this birthday sour, the drawing was to be held this evening. The irony of someone losing their life on the day of your birth was palpable. Taking your usual chair at the kitchen table, you noticed the way two of your brothers squabbled over the last roll. With spiteful retaliation, you plucked it from between them taking a slow, mocking bite right in front of their faces. Maybe next time they'd think twice before ganging up to practically assault you out of bed.

"(y/n)?" Your head snapped up to attention, meeting your father's gaze. "How are you feeling?" You swallowed the fluffy bread quickly shooting a quiet reply. "I'm alright. Would feel a little better if you guys would stop lookin at me like I'm headed to the gallows." The laugh you were awarded from him was dry, but it eased some of the tension in his weathered shoulders nonetheless.

"I suppose it is a bit stuffy in here for a birthday, huh?" Your mother piped up sheepishly, wiping her hands on the dishtowel that hung from a belt on her hip. "Say, why don't you go visit Alikar? Trade some of our tomatoes for a basket of peaches-- bring those back and I'll make a pie we can all have after the drawing, how does that sound?" The little heads in the room visibly perked at the idea of getting their grubby little paws on something sweet. It wasn't often you had the sugar for such things after all.

Dismissing the idea of having to attend the black box event, you gave her a gentle nod. "Sure, I can do that. Need anything else while I'm out?" You inquired, stuffing the rest of the bread into your mouth before your youngest brother could snatch it from your hand. "No, dear. Just finish your breakfast and we'll handle the rest."

After practically beating your siblings off the table with a stick to get your fill, you quickly washed up and plucked the basket from the floor. “I’m off!” You called, getting no discernible acknowledgement as the chaos in the house never ceased. No matter to you-- the pie would be well worth the trip ahead.

Uncle Alikar.

The man was a huge part of the reason you didn’t believe a lick of all that ‘savage otherfolk’ nonsense. As your feet scuffed along the well worn path, old memories bubbled up to the surface like froth from the babbling brook that ran beside you.

You were the eldest of your siblings which, consequently, meant that when you'd been a rumbling little runt there were no older kids to show you the ropes and your parents' first trial run at raising a whole little person. This always resulted in you tumbling headfirst into trouble, but one day it had gone a little too far. Your tiny body approached the ledge of the stream. The same edge you would use every summer to hunt tadpoles. But, unbeknownst to you, the soil that was far too saturated with yesterday's rain to hold your weight. Without warning, it crumbled beneath your little feet sending you hurtling down into the rushing waters below. The merciless current carried you faster downstream than your father could run and just when your little head was wrenched under the raging current, a large beast sprung into the water after you. Before you could even process what had happened, your little lungs were hacking up the water they're inhaled, the coughing doing little for the burn in your lungs.

At first it was all a blur, you could hear your parents shouting as well as another rumbling voice above you responding back to them. Your little legs dangling far above the ground as a muscular arm stayed firmly wrapped around your waist. Someone was... holding you? You blinked away the tears, looking up to be met with a mouth full of razor-like teeth, thick sopping wet fur, and bright, slitted eyes. Misunderstanding what was going on, you began to cry out in fear. You were absolutely terrified you were about to be eaten by the ravenous river monster your mother warned you about countless times in attempt to dissuade you from wandering near the water when they weren't watching you. Only when those large paws handed you off to your mother ever-so-gently did you begin to quiet back down "Are you alright now, sweetpea? Ol' Alikar didn't mean to spook ya. Poor thing." He was some kind of rakshasa or tabaxi, evident by the sopping tail that swayed in the water behind him and round, fluffy ears that tilted back with concern. Speaking of...

Your knuckles rapped against the wooden door, sending warm clunks into the cottage. It was a serene place far from the human village which was always surrounded by the sweet smells of fruit and scents of warm, freshly made bread. Not but a few seconds later the upper half of the door swung open and there, in all his striped glory, was Alikar himself. “There’s the birthday girl!” He greeted you, his smile full of sharp teeth. A sight that originally took some getting used to but was now synonymous with a second home. “Hey Uncle Al. Mama sent me down to get some peaches for a pie.” You raised your basket of tomatoes.

He only chuckled in reply. “Oh, I know, how else was I supposed to give you your gift?” His paw pushed the lower part of the door open, welcoming you inside-- the scent of herbs and butter wafting much stronger from within. Surprised, you could only follow dumbly after him at first, setting the basket down as you took a seat on his kitchen table.

“A gift? Since when do you have the extra funds to get me gifts?! Aren’t you saving for the wedding? What about--”

    “Would you hush, child?” He laughed, taking amusement in your fretting. “You’re still new to the whole womanhood thing, what do you know about adult troubles?” You gave a halfhearted growl at him but had no argument to fire back at him. Even though you'd been considered an adult in human standards for quite a few years, Alikar did have more experience than you in that department.

"You get onto me about my finances but I don't see you moving out of your parents' home yet." He teased, carefully unloading every piece of fruit from the wicker basket with care. "Don't bully me! I'm plenty experienced in other things!" You whined. Snatching one of the many apples he'd left unattended. The crisp sweetness did little to nurse your slightly bruised ego but the coolness of the juice as it dribbled down you chin quenched plenty other, more satisfying needs. "Yeah? And what would your area of foreign expertise be? Apple thieving?"

You glared at his back, cheeks tinting "No! Like conversation! And courting."

"Pah!" He scoffed, soft paws stacking the soft, pink fruit into a neat arrangement. "Much good your 'experience' has gotten you, I am the only one getting married here out of the two of us." Okay. Ouch. "And I converse plenty well, thank you very much!"

The afternoon passed with similar banter as you stuffed yourself with whatever fruits Alikar let you get your hands on. In the end he had given you a carefully carved wooden totem of your favorite animal, peaches, and sent you on your way. Whatever wood the little figure was made from gave a faint, sweet scent when wet with water. A bit ironic considering how you met all those years ago but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You had asked him if he’d have wanted to come and celebrate with you and your family but, regretfully, he had to decline. As charming and kind as he was, the path to your home was far too close to the village for his comfort and the idea of one of your acquaintances or friends coming to celebrate as well and reporting him sent the hairs on the back his neck straight upward. It was no secret the village wasn’t excited about strange, new creatures given the black box tradition, so it was doubtful Alikar would be in the public eye anytime soon, as unfortunate as that was…

   You didn’t realize how much time you’d wasted until the shadows began stretching longer, snuffing out much of whatever light the day had left for you. “Ah shit.” You mumbled. You'd definitely missed the drawing, and at this rate you wouldn't be able to eat sweets till the next morning. Speeding up from a mozy to a quick trot back up the hill was unpleasant to say the least, but damn if those thoughts of peach pie didn't motivated you to haul ass.

However, as you drew closer your eagerness was smothered.

Hunching down, you quickly used the cover of the thorny brush to peer out at the scene below-- The terrified cries of your siblings pierced through your chest.

“Where’s the girl?!” A man demanded, spear to your father’s throat and eyes unwavering as your mother pled, voice breaking with fear as her children clung to her skirts.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ bout.” Your father replied curtly, looking the assailant back in the face with matching fury and anger. “I've only got sons.” The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Only once before, in your entire life, had you heard such a chilling tone come from that man. You'd been no older than 12 when a suitor equal to your mother in age offered to pay a hefty sum for your hand in marriage. The cruel chill in his voice as he sent the man away stuck with you-- but it didn't seem like this scenario would have the same outcome.

“Have it your way.”

A pit knotted itself in your breast as your family’s pleas turned to screaming cries, the spear cutting into you father's shoulder without mercy. Everything seemed to move so slowly after that...

First, you'd prayed he'd give in, relenting your location to the angry mob that surrounded him-- but your father stayed silent. That same fury in his eyes unwavering as he stayed on his feet.

Second, you though, maybe, the crowd would believe they'd truly made a mistake. Maybe a (y/n) didn't live in this village. Perhaps they'd been mistaken-- but that hope was quickly snuffed out as the spear-wielding man reeled the weapon back again, poised to strike.

You hadn't even known what you were doing as you pushed through the thorny brambles. Didn't even register as your fingers curled around a plump peach from your basket. And certainly didn't realize the strength you'd shot through your arm as you slung the fruit straight into the back of the man's head.

The hard impact followed by the splatter of sweet juices dripping down his neck was followed only by a second of silence.

Then two.

Then three.

All heads turning in your direction....

Run.

It was nothing more than instinct as you dropped the precious wicker basket your mother had weaved to the ground-- Alikar's carefully nurtured peaches bruising in the dirt. You shot back through the thorns. Dress skirt shredding, legs practically minced as you rushed through the uncaring wild.

Everything blurred.

Heart racing, the sound of shouting, the thundering of feet right on your tail. It was so much, too much-- too soon. There was no where else you could go. You didn't even know where you were going. Run. Run. RUN.

And run you did, even as your calves burned and blood dripped down your skin, you flew through the woods in a desperate flurry. It was fruitless though. Your wreckless abandon being brought to a halt with a blistering pain that shot through your ribs. The last thing you saw was the sight of the ground coming right at you, and then? Darkness.

I was going to wait till I finished part 2 to post this part but I'm too excited and part 2 is about halfway written anyway :) Stay tuned!

pt. 2

#lavenderslabyrinth #teratophillia #monster x reader #x reader #monster fucker #dragon x reader #king!dragon x reader #forced marriage trope #fantasy romance #rewrite #teratophillia x reader

[iz-nomerants]

Reading a great fanfic isn’t all fun and games. Sure, the thought of encountrering a captivating story sounds thrilling but, it’s not always the same for everyone. So goes for the non fastpass enjoyers.

Non fast pass enjoyers encounter a weekly ritual of madness following the latest update of another chapter. This could include squealing, lots of squealing, depending on the genre it could be could be either screaming, crying or raging. Screenshots, many screenshots are a byproduct of this weekly event. Endless scrolling through social media’s very limited posts, and even scarcer fanfics are a trademark of the most obsessed and rabid fans.

But what happens on that one day, when all the stars and all the planets align. When Heaven suddenly opens up ,and we are once again blessed with another chapter. Welll, it’s quite the messy affair. First of all, we encounter the 5 stages of grief:

Denial: After reading a chapter, we often remain stonefaced in front of the screen, only then reacting 5 seconds later, screams rocking through the earth’s core. We deny that we have already read it, so we read it again, and again, and again, and again ti’ll we have counted all the lines in each panel, and each and every panel ingrained into the back of our eyelids.

Anger: Second comes anger. After reading a particularly good chapter, we might rage after a cliffhanger, throwing our phones, kicking, screaming in a violent rage. We question why the chapter seemingly got shorter despite it being exactly the same amount of panels as before. We question why our characters did as they did. WE QUESTION WHY THE FUCK WERE WE LEFT ON A MOTHERHECKING HOT PANEL OF BUDDY WITHOUT ANY OTHER CONTEXT BUT; “BUDDY.”

Bargaining: After a long winded meltdown we now go to bargaining. We now search every nook and cranny of the fandom for any leaks, fanart, fanfics and much more to feed our unholy obsessions. We try to convince ourselves not to spend those out last dime on webtoon coins as we rock ourselves to sleep, the last panels repeating in our brain like a broken kinetograph.

Depression: After again sweeping through the fandom, we now find ourselves at loss. The lack of content gets to us as we cry alone in an empty room, counting down the days, the hours, the minutes and the seconds until the next chapter. Until then, we go about our daily lives, lacking vigor, and excitement for what may come tomorrow unless it’s Cinderella Boy. 🤬🤬🤬

Acceptance: We accept that we have to wait another agonizingly long 6 days. Deprived of content. Wasting away, scrolling through the vast ocean of webtoons. But none shall hold a candle to what we have previously read the day before. Cinderella Boy.

In short, FUCK YOU BUDDY. STOP BEING SO DAMN HOT. KISS KISSS KISS. 😭😭😭

GAY AF

Ah, I seemed to have lost my composure over there. But nonetheless, this is the journey of an average webtoon enjoyer. Ti’ll the next week! Goodbye my friends.

#webtoon #webtoon originals #buddy #chase hollow #cinderella boy #cinderella boy webtoon #writing #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer #im obsessed #WHYTHEFUCKISBUDDYSOHOT #woof woof #casualwebtoonenjoyer. #rant post

[manicfoxmagick]

About Me Master Post

Who I Am & What I Post

I go by Yaxel Akasha, aka Yaxel the Manic, and sometimes just Manic. I'm 29 years old, use he/him pronouns, and a member of the G of the LGBTQ+.

I am a dedicated chaote, a person who practices chaos magick, as well as a prolific tarot and oracle reader. I practice my craft damn near every day, whether that be by studying, reading my cards, or performing magick rituals.

My primary paradigm is the psychological model, and I incorporate a vast variety of techniques and methods both traditional and unique.

I also mix in the spirit model, and communicate with spiritual entities through trance states and divination tools.

I develop original spells and rituals that I will be posting on here. I create a ton of sigils, both hand drawn and digital. I also create my own tarot spreads.

I create a ton of content for other practitioners that is entirely free to use and distribute, but please keep my credentials on them. I actively encourage other practitioners to use them and modify them however they see fit, and I’d love to see what you can come up with.

Another thing I'll be posting is informative articles on chaos magick designed to educate others on the limitless possibilities of chaos magick. If something is my own UPG (unverified personal gnosis) it will be labeled as such.

My inbox is always open to anyone, so please drop me a line.

The Void Project

A collection of interconnected chaos magick resources I created.

The Void Files- an ezine to be distributed as a free PDF containing a variety of content from a team of contributors. First issue now available at the project's homepage: https://thevoidfiles.straw.page

The Void Society- a chaos magick Discord server to serve as a community for readers and contributors of The Void Files. Join our community here: https://discord.gg/gphgFXg7kq

The Void Network- a website of resources on chaos magick and occultism. Will be ready for the public soon.

Useful Links

Instagram The void Files The Void Society Discord

That's all for now.

-Yaxel Akasha, Archbishop of the Void The Man With Three Faces

#chaos magick #magick #about me #occultism #occult #witches of tumblr #chaote

[chickycherrycola]

Love & Other Breakfast Foods

with my resbang posting date just a couple weeks away, i suppose it's about damn time i get better about cross-posting my fanfic works on the tumblrverse.

so, in celebration of valentine's day/this fic's birthday, i figured why not share a sappy, gooey, mushy thing that i wrote last year! it's literally just self-indulgent, domestic fluff, but it's one of my favorite things i've ever written, and hey, domestic fluff is one of the reasons we love soul x maka, right?

find it on AO3, or the beginning is under the cut!

Maka Albarn used to hate Valentine's Day.

Maybe hate was too strong a word - but she definitely didn't understand all the hype, why everyone made such a big deal out of the holiday. All the pomp and circumstance. All the hemming and hawing about not wanting to be single on such a day. The societal expectation to profess one's feelings with cheap, mass-produced trinkets; flowers doomed to die in a week, cards destined for the recycling bin, overstuffed teddy bears fated to be forgotten in some dark closet. It all seemed so silly and superficial. 

It wasn't that she didn't believe in love. Maka actually found love quite fascinating - she read about it in romance novels, liked paging through wedding magazines on occasion, and even enjoyed a good rom-com movie every once in a while, however sappy and predictable the plot. She did, in fact, believe in love, or at least the idea of it. 

Belief in love was not the problem.

The problem was that love was such a vast, nebulous concept, such a complex, delicate thing, difficult to find and even more difficult to keep, so she simply decided she did not have time for it. She had quite enough on her plate as it was, and adding romantic pursuits to her to-do list seemed more trouble than it was worth. And so, since she had no use for Valentine's Day or any of the customs that came with it, February 14th grew to be nothing more than an annual annoyance, just another over-commercialized day in the cycle of the American calendar, and she largely ignored its existence. 

Until Soul adopted a rather strange ritual for the holiday.

It took her a few years to catch on to what he was doing.

The first year, she remembered emerging from her room in the early hours of the morning and feeling quite confused to find Soul, not only already awake and dressed for the day, but in the kitchen no less, toiling over a hot stove. It was a Tuesday, by all accounts just another normal school day, and Maka could count on one hand the number of times prior to this day that Soul had woken up before she did. 

"What… are you doing?" She had blurted out, utterly perplexed.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" He had replied, in a completely bored voice, without even turning around to face her. "I'm making breakfast."

Read the rest here!

#my writing #soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #soulxmaka #valentine's day fic

[heylinfanclub]

Every time I see fictional enactments of people having mental breakdowns I’m like. ‘Is it not normal to do that like three times a week’. I’m going to have. Such major heart problems. My whole life. I just know it.

The swinging between hysterical, sad and mad? The eyes wide rolling around in my damn skull? The struggle to breathe and not choke on your own spit? The sensation that you might just lash out at anyone or anything that gets too close? The existential hysteria questioning YOUR VERY EXISTENCE AND THE EXISTENCE OF CAUSALITY AND WHY THINGS ARE THE WAY THEY ARE AND COULD THEY NOT BE AND COULD SOMEONE JUST TAKE ME AWAY TAKE ME AWAY.

It’s that last part especially. When you start getting. So. In your god damn feels. YOURE BEGGING THE UNIVERSE FOR REPRIEVE ON REPEAT AS YOU SWAY BACK N FORTH LIKE YOURE HAVING THE WORST TRIP IMAGINABLE TRYING TO CONTACT GOD. HELP ME. HELP ME. HELP ME. HELP ME. KILL ME. RUN OVER MY HEAD. NEVER WAKE ME. SEND ME TO HELL ILL PAY FOR MY SINS NOW PLEASE PLEEAASSE ANYTHING BUT A MOMENTS MORE OF TORMENT. that kinda. Shit.

Every day people look at me and tell me I’m fine. I’m smart I’m practical I’m insightful I’m hanging on I’m resourceful I seem GREAT. Hell. My problems aren’t even that bad from their perspective (and maybe they’re right!)

I want to kill them every time and maybe one day I’ll smack someone across the face. Maybe break my knuckles smashing their nose into their brain. I think. I deserve it.

ANYWAY. had another lapse of mental angst because I cannot prioritize without a helper and that means I’m drowning in an infinitely vast array priorities, and should I spare one even a second of my attention, my anxiety comes running at me with a machete to ritually slaughter me for thinking for a second THAT was my highest priority.

I just want. To live. But I cannot. Because my brain doesn’t know what’s important. Except for. Being In a Domestic Cow Like State of UNTHINKING. and it makes me wanna explode my surroundings with my mind.

I’m getting a headache from being stuck in executive dysfunction too long and I donttt liikkeee iittttt.

LIKE. I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HAVIN A GOOD ONE. I was supposed to be feelin a GOOD EMOTION SPARKED. INSPIRATION. INSPIRATION FOR MY DESIRE TO WRITE A STORY. But instead. I was smacked with that reminder that. I don’t choose what’s important and what needs to be done and if I do it. I don’t get to choose. So why both having dreams? Why bother having wants? Wishes? Why bother? (It would matter more if I had a community that HELPS ME and maybe I have a community that PROTECTS me but that’s. Not the same. I feel so fuckin brainless. My thoughts bounce in every direction but go Nowhere. They loop back on themselves and fight each other like rabid animals. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with a brain like this. Forever. Happily. Not without reliable support. Which doesn’t exist. There is no such thing as reliable. Everything is temporary. So it’s always fINE THEN you have to FIND A WAY TO COPE. ALONE? FOREVER? It’s bullshit. I hate this shit. Ahhhhh.

I wanted to think Ooo Ahh inspiration for a story I want to write so bad.

But it just went ‘when. When will you write. How. Will you be afloat. Will it distract you. Distract you from friends from life from stability? You can’t even take care of yourself you don’t deserve to do anything until you can take care of yourself and function with others and *you have so many other higher priorities that will kill you if you do not attend to them first*’

Weeps

THERAPIST SAID I DIDNT HAVE OCD. NOT EVEN PURE O. AND MAYBE SHE RIGHT. I CAN STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. IF PUSHED IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. WHICH IM NEVER. BECAUSE IM ALONE. AND THAT MEANS I END UP RUMINATING TIL I HAVE HEART AND STOMACH PAINS. AHHHHHHH.

Awoooo

Awoooo

I hate it

#me. #therapy. #mur has a moment. #suicidal ideation// #negative// #(I’m not feelin it now but boy #(I will lapse in and out for being. a fucking. mess. #(if I allow myself even a moment of non distraction #(sometimes I can see where the stereotypes for autism come from #(yeah. maybe I do wanna zone out unspeaking on one thing #(and if you interrupt me I will lose my shit so hard I may just hurt everyone around me and myself #(because I am. I. so much. mental anguish. on the regular. #(I miss my therapist I am going to hate my new one no matter what she says #(she went on medical leave the minute my old therapist left #(like yeahyeahyeah sure can’t control that #(you could’ve emailed anyone about my continuum of care but you DIDNT #(I HOPE U HAVE TEN THOUSAND ALLERGIC REACTIONS

[junos-office-drama]

The Chemistry of Catalyst

An author's discussion of Severine's unusual power and the unique nature of vampires in Catalyst (trope: our vampires are different!).

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

There is a very specific reason I picked the word Catalyst as the title of my story.

From the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, catalyst is defined as:

a substance that enables a chemical reaction to proceed at a usually faster rate or under different conditions (as at a lower temperature) than otherwise possible

an agent that provokes or speeds significant change or action

Within the story, Catalysts embody that first bullet point: they allow mages to produce significantly stronger magical spells than they would otherwise be able to do in a specific time/condition.

(Granted, within the story, Catalysts actually are able to increase the overall power of the spell, while real-life chemical catalysts cannot increase the overall energy produced by a reaction because that would break the laws of thermodynamics, but hey, MAGIC, alright? Fuck thermodynamics.)

[Sidenote: Severine, herself a Catalyst, also fulfills the second bullet point: her decisions and actions result in significant change to the people and world around her. She literally is a Catalyst, both in the sense of "Catalyst" being a type of human in the story and the metaphoric catalyst for the story itself.]

Anyway, in this metaphor, I'm making a purposeful comparison between magic and a chemical reaction.

Mages have the ability to produce the reactants (runes + their personal magic) needed for a chemical reaction (the spell).

Catalysts can add the catalyzing agent (a Catalyst's power) to enhance the chemical reaction (spell). But, even the most powerful chemical catalysts don't do anything on their own -- the necessary reactants must be present for them to have an effect. Similarly, story Catalysts can't cast their own spells -- they can only enhance the spells cast by mages.

This is also why magic is so frequently represented by heat, why a Catalyst's power is a hot one, because the vast majority of naturally occurring chemical reactions are exothermic (they produce heat).

So what about Severine's unique power?

Well, she inactivates chemical reactions.

In this metaphor, she inactivates magic. She's not overpowering a chemical reaction with a bigger, more powerful chemical reaction of the opposite flavor -- she's negating the original chemical reaction.

Think: Big bucket of water dumped over a candle (because a flame is a type of chemical reaction). This is why Severine's power doesn't just use cold language, but it often uses water language (it's an icy sea, frozen waters, etc.).

Now we get to the vampires.

As one astute reader noticed, "in most stories and myths, vampires can't go into the sun because they are cursed by a god," and that it's rather strange that Severine's power allows vampires to go out into the sunlight without consequences.

First up: While reading Catalyst, you may notice there's not a lot of religion. There's no big-g God, no churches or temples, no religious prayers or rituals, etc. There are a few scattered references to little-g gods (as in "gods-damned"), as well as heaven and hell, but no solid proof that deities are real or directly influencing the world. So having vampires being cursed by a god would be a bit... odd in this context.

Second, and more importantly: Put in this greater metaphor of chemistry, what's going on with vampires and the sun? Lots of things:

Vampire + sun = flames sounds a lot like a chemical reaction, doesn't it? And Severine's unique ability is to negate chemical reactions.

The sun itself is basically one giant exothermic chemical reaction and, again, Severine has the power to negate those reactions.

More basically, the sun is heat, and Severine is functionally anti-heat (cold).

There's another, even more specific reason I can't reveal, because it would be a major spoiler if I ever write a sequel.

So, anyway, that's the official reason why Severine's power allows Bastian to dance around in sunlight. Because in this world, vampires and sun are two reactants in a chemical reaction, and she has the ability to negate chemical reactions / prevent reactants from reacting.

...and if you read all of this rambling, but don't actually read Catalyst, may I kindly invite you to read Catalyst?

Catalyst on AO3

#junos-catalyst

[baronmagikcarp]

I'm been trying to create my own TTRPG for awhile now. Basically, I wanted a D&D-style game without all the pain-in-the-ass mechanics that come with D&D. I liked the engine that ran the old R. Talsorian Cyberpunk 2020 game (it's D10 based for most of it) and I was really familiar with it so that was the basis.

Now, I wanted magic in the game but I really, really don't like the whole, "Half of this book is going to be nothing but set magic spells of various varieties." It kind of seemed to turn magic into something that isn't, well, magic. I wanted something different, something the player could customize. Basically, they'd craft their own spells.

This is when I figured out really damn fast there's probably a really good reason that D&D does magic the way it does. Trying to come up with some kind of system that was freeform but still adhered to the R. Tal CP2020 system I was trying to use was not easy to say the least. I kind of figured two broad categories, Ritual & Individual. Ritual was stuff you'd do with a group, the basic giant circle with chanting people, and Individual was a one person sort of thing.

Anyway, without getting into what I'd done, I've been taking another run at it and I was thinking of the whole categories like earth, wind, fire, and water for ways to help craft a spell. Then I was thinking of my dwarfs I'd created.

I wanted something different and I'd done a story years ago with a dwarf society that really didn't have much to do with mining. They were a people who roamed prairies and steppes as nomads. They were excellent archers and horsepeople and did lots of trading. They left large cairns out on the plains carved with runes that pretty much on one knows except a few select dwarfs. They were wayfindering tools in both a physical sense, in that you could navigate from them, but also the metaphysical sense in that some of them had started as burial mounds and were markers to the next world.

Now, I'm sitting here thinking, dwarfs would probably have something different other than the normal element based stuff. Then I thought, they're excellent navigators. They have to be, moving across vast open grasslands is a great way to get turned around. Thus, they have a magic system that is based on their cardinal directions of east, west, north, and south with east and west on the top and bottom of the compass rose and north and south on the sides. I freely admit I stole the east on the top from the Hobbit.

That's when it occurred to me that, what with me setting up these ancient cairns and having them covered in metaphysical language, that dwarfs, not elves, where probably the first magic users and other people were either taught or figured it out from them. The elemental stuff is a more recent creation.

All that being said, this is great background but I still haven't figured out just how I want that magic system to work.

#making games #ttrpg

[onceandfutureoshainspector]

- My friends, my people, my flock. I HAVE HAD A VISION! A VAST, FIERY ORB, FLOATIN’ IN AN ENDLESS VOID! AND THERE, SO SMALL, SO FRAGILE, US! BUT FALLIN’, FALLIN’, FALLIN’ INTO THE FLAMES!

    - it sounds like she’s giving a sermon - does she have a congregation already?

        - or maybe she’s specifically preaching to a dead congregation. or a dead god.

- i don’t know what i was expecting exactly, but she isn’t it. i kinda thought she’d at least be wearing something non-CHILDREN-ey to separate herself from them if she’s starting her own cult.

- that sounds pretty damn eldritch to me! another outer god? an enemy of ATOM’s, perhaps, cold and dark and death as opposed to warmth and light and growth?

    - (that last bit describes ATOM in a perhaps overgenerous fashion, but only until you remember what fission “warmth” and radioactivity “light” and mutation “growth” have done to this world.) 

    - come to think of it, it’s possible not all the eldritch stuff so far came from one entity. there are pretty strong connections between PICKMAN, the CABOTS, and ATOM, but aside from the presence of MINI NUKES in the ritual chamber the odd one out so far has sort of been KREMVH.

        - i can’t help but remember this diary entry from DUNWICH, by the RAIDER in charge of the place after she encountered something spooky-ooky:

            - a fair amount of ATOM’s religion seems to be centered around its “glow” - why would one of its terrified victims think they could hide from it in the light?

#really glad i picked up krevmh's tooth and lorenzo's artefact now #it's possible i'll have to kill some kind of eldritch entity on one side of the conflict or the other or even both #good to have their potential kryptonites on me just in case #the zeta gun might even work on both of them also #FALLOUT 4: THE RESURRECTION OF OSHA #fallout 4

[girlwholovesturtles]

Decrypted

Martin again! Happy to hear from you but where is Jon and Basira?

"Decay" you say? The End or the Extension?

Yes, I know exactly what your talking about and it's always weird to see. Farming I think?

Damn, alright, dude. Why don't you tell me how you really feel?

Now it's starting to feel like the Buried or the Vast...

Yeah, that's normal if you just rip shit from youtube instead of actually paying for anything.

Weird, don't like it... is this gonna be another ritual?

"Distorted" you say? Yeah, I don't know if I believe this is a Twisting Deceit kind of thing.

Bro! No! Don't go near the ominous numbers!

Wait, "twisted" it said... hm... Spiral, is that you, bud?

This man has a kind of patience that I couldn't imagine... nah, those numbers are gonna drive you crazy. I'm betting that's the point though.

Well alright, that's an interesting conclusion to come to... well, everything just got worse, I guess. Wait, what happened though?

Yeah, Extension, I guess that makes sense...

Martin, I don't know if- Daisy!

THEY'RE BACK!!!!!

Damn Martin! Why gotta- oh, hon! Stop embracing the loneliness.

Peter, I hate you so much! The audacity of this man!

Peter? What do you mean "we?" Wh- What happened in the library?

Good lord, this man makes me stressed. I just wanna fight him!

#the magnus archives #tma #live blogging #episode 144

[helenaheissner]

A Dream of Summer Rain: Chapter 15 (The Broken, the Beaten, and the Damned)

They drove until sunrise, at which point they found another motel. They stayed in during the day, and Lacy tinkered with the hotel’s clock radio until she found her way onto the police broadcasts. High numbers of disappearances plagued the country. Sightings of deformed humans with rotting skin and red eyes made local news, and nobody seemed sure of what to make of it.

Another day passed, followed by another night of driving. Gwen continued to fill her in on the long, sordid history of the Sovereignty: their feud with the Damocles Guild began in earnest during the High Middle Ages, as the Guild began conducting witch hunts throughout Europe and Asia Minor in search of collaborators with Sea People, the Infernals, and the various other monsters that roamed the surface in those days. 

“But how did the Guild pose a threat against a bunch of wizards?” Lacy asked as she sat in the passenger’s seat of the truck while Gwen drove. Danny slept in the back seat.

“Not all mages are created equal,” Gwen said. “Some of them just… Suck, frankly. Even if they’re from a powerful family, even if both their parents were hugely powerful, sometimes a mage can just be born with very little magical capacity. Usually it means you can use pyromancy and nothing else. Sometimes, though, you get my brother Tristan, who couldn’t even do that much, but I digress. Anyway, once, about a thousand years ago, some Guildsmen got it into their heads to kidnap the heir to House Koenig to try to negotiate a surrender, end the fighting once and for all. This, obviously, was a terrible plan that resulted in the Sovereignty bringing all their mages to the Guild’s original headquarters in Switzerland and massacring everyone there. Only a handful of survivors made it out, and they were basically scattered to the wind for the next couple hundred years, until the Sovereignty started relocating to the new world. This allowed the Guild to start re-establishing themselves in Europe and Asia, at the expense of the Sovereignty basically having the full run of the Americas for about two hundred and fifty years. Not for lack of trying- the Salem Witch Trials, for instance, were something the Guild drummed up to get the colonists concerned about mages in their midst. Granted, there were mages in their midst, and they had this tendency to use Native American captives for blood magic rituals, so maybe they were onto something there. And, you know, the whole kidnapping and indoctrinating children thing. But again, I digress.”

“What changed?” Danny asked. He’d woken up unnoticed, begun twirling one of his knives between his fingers. The Mackinac Bridge appeared in the distance, sprawling over the lake towards the Upper Peninsula. 

“World War I,” Gwen said. 

They came upon the bridge, and Lacy listened to the ground vanish beneath her, listened to the wind swaying the lakewater in the night. The moon and the stars illuminated the sky, a vast tapestry of cosmic light, and Lacy put her hand over her heart and felt her own light. “How do you mean?” she asked. 

Gwen elaborated, “The sheer amount of death and destruction in Europe wiped out most of the remaining monster population, not to mention most of their habitable territory. There just wasn’t as much for the Guild to do in Europe. On top of that, the colonial presence in Africa had made staying there impractical for over a hundred years, and the Soviet Union and the PRC were on the rise in Asia, plus Imperial Japan about a decade later. The Americas were the most viable option, so they all started coming over here.”

“I’m guessing the Sovereignty didn’t like that,” Lacy said. They were the only car crossing the bridge in the dead of night. 

“Oh yeah, big time. The Sovereignty had set up schools in the Americas by then, meeting places, even a central headquarters in Boston. The massive sprawls of untamed wilderness made it easier to go unnoticed.”

“Makes sense,” Lacy said. They crossed the halfway point of the bridge. 

“I’m guessing gang violence started breaking out?” Danny said.

“Oh you have no idea,” Gwen said. “A lot of people died. More than either side could afford, honestly- both of them practically bled to death on the proverbial battlefield, and as a result they declared a ceasefire that’s been in effect ever since. That was the late 1930s.”

“And now all this is happening,” Lacy said. “The Sovereignty unleashing ghouls onto the American population, trying to what- draw the Guild out into another fight?”

“Maybe,” Gwen said. “I’ve got the distinct sense it’s bigger than that, though. If my dad has anything to do with this- and I am convinced that he does- then there’s a much larger goal he’s pursuing. Hell, the ghouls might just be a smokescreen while he pursues his actual target.”

“Christ,” Danny said, unscrewing his flask. 

The bridge met land again, and they crossed into the Upper Peninsula. A small town stretched lazily in the early morning before them, and they passed through to its outer edge by sundown and checked into an inn. 

Another day passed gathering information and keeping out of sight. That night, they got in the car once more, and by the next morning they had crossed state lines into Wisconsin. A few more days of driving during the night and sleeping during the day went by, during which time ghouls were sighted in three more states. The Feds were involved, and finally, after a week of listening, Lacy heard their names on the radio. She, Gwen, and Danny were all persons of interest in an ongoing investigation into apparent domestic terrorism. Which, technically, it was, it just wasn’t exactly what they thought it was. The leader of the investigation was a woman named Azru Khan, with two more agents under her named Hannibal Derosier and Akar Bahadur.

One morning, Gwen told them they were a day away from their destination. They were deep into the interior of Wisconsin. It was different from Michigan- different trees; different air, almost- not quite as cold. They stopped at yet another non-descript motel, and Gwen told Lacy and Danny she needed to go into town for supplies.

Lacy slept while Gwen was gone, and didn’t notice her return. When she awoke, Danny was asleep on the floor, and Gwen was in the bathroom with the door open. Lacy looked over and saw her teacher in a red tube dress that stopped just above the knee, her short hair squared and coiffed, applying red lipstick to her puckered mouth. 

“You look nice,” Lacy said. 

Gwen’s eyes darted over to Lacy as she finished applying the lipstick and then popped her lips to complete the coverage. She took out a mascara wand. “For a fugitive?”

“Maybe,” Lacy said. “What’s the occasion?”

Gwen cocked an eyebrow. “Well, like I said, we’re a day away from our destination. From my compatriots. Among them is my boyfriend.”

Lacy kept staring.

“Whom I love very much,” Gwen said, applying mascara.

Lacy kept staring.

“So I’m making myself extra pretty for him. Well, mostly for me. But somewhat for him,” Gwen said. 

Lacy put a hand under her chin and said, “I think I get it.”

“Yeah?”

“No, it’s just… It took me a sec, ‘cause I’m still getting used to this whole ‘taking pride in my appearance’ thing. I guess… Well, honestly, I used to think that was something only dumb, vapid girls did.”

Gwen cocked an eyebrow. 

“I… I… I’m not proud of that- I was in serious denial-”

Gwen smiled. “It’s okay, Lacy. Many of us went through a not-like-other-girls phase. Yours just had an extra layer to it. Try not to beat yourself up.”

Lacy gulped, then nodded. Then said, “Uh after you’re done, before we go, could I use the bathroom to do my own makeup?” 

“Of course!” Gwen said. “Lemme know if you need any help.”

Lacy needed help. She handled most of it on her own, but still struggled with accidentally smearing lipstick around her mouth rather than on it. When it was over, she’d given herself a light amount of cosmetics and changed into a dark blue dress with white polka dots and a skirt that stopped just below the knee. She stood in front of the mirror and preened a bit, did a twirl and smiled as the skirt spun around her. She amused herself for a few minutes doing so repeatedly, and then she woke up Danny, who of course only needed five minutes to shave before he was ready to go. 

They left just after sundown this time, and the drive took ninety minutes before they came upon a trailer park. It was largely empty, but for three winnebagos and a box car. They got out of Danny’s truck, parked right in front of the train car. An old white man with wispy hair and the haggard face of someone who’d experienced two hundred years in the span seventy sat at the front of the box car, wearing a suede jacket and a stetson, smoking a cigarillo and staring out into the distance. He had blueprints on his lap for some kind of specialized train engine. “Hey Harry,” Gwen said, extending her hand upward. 

The old man gave a shallow nod, but said nothing. 

“Wait a sec,” Lacy said to the old man, “I know you!”

“Do ya’, now?” Harry said.

“You sold me a radio back in Grand Rapids!”

“I sold lots of radios in Grand Rapids,” Harry shrugged.

“What are you doing here?”

“Business trip.”

Lacy opened her mouth to ask another question, but was interrupted: from each of the winnebagos, a person emerged. One stood with the tall, imposing might of a man who had evidently never eaten bread in his life. He was a wall of muscle, nearly two feet taller than Lacy and several times wider. He had dark brown skin with curly hair cropped in a short, almost managerial style. He wore a blue and green Hawaiian shirt and tan cargo shorts and brown workman’s boots. He emerged from the RV on the far left, and he carried a sword that was wider and taller than he was. The handle was nearly as long as Lacy’s entire midsection, while the blade was twice the size of her entire body. He held it at his side, blade aimed at the ground, and stepped out into the world. He surveyed his surroundings, looked up at the clear sky, cracked his neck and his knuckles, waved at Harry, and then nodded to Gwen.

“Hey Joshua,” Gwen said. 

“Gwen,” he said in an indecipherable tone.

From the right hand side came another man, shorter than the evident Joshua but nearly equal in width and musculature. He was Asian, with long black hair and light brown eyes and freckled skin, and stood around six feet flat with a wide, sturdy frame. He wore a brown suede trench coat that extended all the way to his ankles. As he walked, the insides of his jacket shook- he had weapons in there. Lots of weapons, by the sound of it. Guns, blades, who knew what else. 

Lacy heard a heartbeat rising next to her. She looked over at Gwen, who was biting her lower lip as her snowy cheeks reddened. “Hi Quentin,” she said. 

“Gwen!” Quentin exclaimed. He ran over and scooped her up in his arms in a tight embrace, which she readily returned. She laughed, and she squirmed. Lacy felt an intense desire to avert her eyes. 

“It has been too long, fair one!” he said. His voice was high and almost nasally in spite of his height and build, and yet it was also smooth and full and carried across the entire trailer park. Joshua nodded appreciatively, while Harry lit another cigarillo and started drawing on his blueprints. 

“It has, it has,” Gwen said as she settled back on the ground and shifted backwards. How she did that in high heels was something Lacy filed away to ask her later. “You look good.”

“And you look beautiful as always,” Quentin said without hesitation. “I quite like this hairstyle on you.”

Gwen ran a hand through her hair. “Th-thanks.” Was she giggling?

“Regardless of circumstances, regardless of anything, it is good to see you!” Quentin said. “As well as your companions! A pleasure, the young pair of you! My name is Quentin Jeong! I’m a member of the Damocles Guild, a mage and a monster hunter. As I said, regardless of the circumstances, it is good to meet you!”

He held out his hand. Danny shook it first, eagerly smiling and nodding along. Lacy was somewhat more hesitant, but accepted it as he shook her hand enthusiastically.  

“And I see my good friend has already introduced himself,” Quentin said, gesturing to Joshua. “Joshua Binyomin DaSilva!”

Joshua extended his hand, which was nearly as large as Lacy’s head. She shook it, and the enormous man nodded appreciatively at her and Danny as he did so. 

“Ah,” Quentin said, looking around. “But where is-”

The door to the final winnebago, the one front and center, tore open. Out stepped the most beautiful woman Lacy had ever seen. She was around five-eight or five-nine, with long, curly black hair worn at mid-back length. She had caramel-colored skin and strong shoulders and gently generous curves, and big brown eyes Lacy wanted to get lost in. She wore a red tank top and blue jeans, and Lacy had to consciously tear her gaze away from the girl’s midriff and cleavage and towards her utterly beautiful face. 

“Isabella!” Gwen and Quentin both called at the same time. 

Isabella’s red-painted lips curved into a smile. Lacy’s heart fluttered. Next to her, Danny snickered. Lacy kicked him in the shin. 

“Isabella Ramirez,” the girl said as she approached them. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Lacy O’Sullivan,” Lacy said, gulping and trying not to lean forward as she spoke. “Nice to meet you too!”

Danny introduced himself as well, and the lot of them built a campfire in the park’s pit. The day turned to night, and they gathered around the fire and slow-roasted a chicken over it. 

“So what are we contending with, precisely?” Quentin asked. He sat across the fire from Gwen, looked directly at her. 

Gwen sat to Lacy’s right, while Danny sat to her left. Isabella was directly across from her, while Joshua sat between Isabella and Quentin knitting a scarf. 

“Best I can tell,” Gwen said, “My father is planning something. Ghouls have been appearing all throughout the northern half of the country, and even heading as far south as Los Angeles.”

“Further, actually: Mexico City,” Isabella said. 

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. Guild bulletin posted it this morning. They’re trying to keep things stable and underwraps, but there’s a lot of stuff going on down there right now. People going missing, dead bodies showing up in the street in broad daylight.”

“What’s he hoping to accomplish?” Lacy asked. “Your father, I mean? Is he just trying to spread chaos or what?”

“Must be,” Danny said. “Simplest explanation is usually the right one, yeah?”

“Usually, yes,” Gwen said, “But in this case I doubt it.”

“How’s that?” Danny said. He was taking all this in stride. Good for him.

“Because my father doesn’t do things like that,” Gwen said. “He has a reason for everything he does, or at least a self-justification. There’s nobody better at convincing himself he’s the hero of the story than Alistair Albrecht.”

“So what’s his angle then?” Lacy asked. “World domination?”

“Honestly? I’ve given it a lot of thought, and yeah, probably.”

There was a pregnant silence over the campground, save for Harry whittling on the deck of his box car.

Lacy laughed. 

Danny laughed.

Everyone gave them a collective look of annoyance, and the strangulating silence brought Lacy’s amusement to a thundering hault. “What?” Lacy said.

“I’m serious, guys,” Gwen said.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“But there’s no way he’s after world domination.”

“What makes you say that?” Joshua asked.

“Because it’s completely ridiculous. Nobody actually wants to take over the world!”

“The Nazis wanted to take over the world,” Isabella pointed out. “And the Soviets. Napoleon. The British Empire. The Spanish Empire.”

“Yeah, but that’s different- those are whole systems of government hinged around taking over the world- a political philosophy,” Danny said, taking a swig from his flask. 

“And you don’t think a 1500 year old clan of necromancers part of a secret council dedicated to covertly controlling the world’s magic could have something like that?” Gwen asked, her face as blank as marble.

Lacy took in the four sets of blank stares greeting her. She turned to Danny for support, but he’d developed an incurable fascination with his shoes. She stared into the fire, listening to it crackle. “You gotta admit, it sounds a bit… Much.”

“Lacy, you’re a wizard,” Gwen said.

“And we’re part of an organization of professional monster hunters,” Joshua said. 

Lacy stared intently at the flames. “You have a point. Do you, uh, think there’s some kind of, uh, philosophy motivating all this, or is your dad just insane?”

“Sadly I don’t think those options are mutually exclusive,” Gwen said. “I don’t know his reasoning though. I wish I did- it would make all this a lot easier to predict- but he always kept his cards close to his chest.”

“So what do we do?”

“We raid my family’s school, get some information.”

“Excellent!” Quentin said. “It’s finally time to visit the enemy compound. My fair Guinevere, you can lead us to this dark academia, can you not?”

“I can indeed,” Gwen said, eyeing Quentin in a way that made Lacy blush. “We’ll start heading that way tomorrow- it’ll be a bit of a drive though. It’s in Colorado.”

“The mountain west!” Quentin said. “Excellent.”

“Do you guys… Want me to do anything?” Everyone turned to look at Danny as he said it. It was a fair question they’d avoided considering- Danny had been dragged into all this against his will, even more so than Lacy to an extent. And he didn’t have any magic at all. 

“Well what can you do?” Isabella asked. 

“I know how to shoot,” Danny said. “And I’m pretty good with a knife.”

Isabella raised an eyebrow and considered this, then looked over at her friends. Joshua nodded sagely, while Quentin gave a thumbs-up. “We can work with that.”

“Cool,” Danny said. 

He’s taking all this really well, Lacy said. Relatively speaking at least. I suppose that’s a good thing. “So how much did Gwen tell you guys about me?” Lacy asked. They all looked at her, and Lacy immediately flinched and tore her eyes away. After a few moments of silence, Lacy realized they still expected her to talk, and so she said, “About who I am, and what I… Bring to the table.”

“Not much,” Joshua said. 

“Evidently, young lady, fair Guinevere found it most appropriate for you to advocate for yourself in these endeavors,” Quentin said. 

Isabella didn’t say anything, simply looked Lacy directly in the eyes. Lacy looked away first, stared at the fire, wafted the woodsmoke. Then she looked back to Isabella, not taking her gaze away from the beautiful girl.

Lacy tapped her hand to her chest, and her Star emerged. It hung in the air above her, and soon began to orbit her, shedding blue light. Everyone stared at it in awe, save for Isabella, who stared at it with an expression Lacy couldn’t quite read.  

“There’s more,” Lacy continued. And she told them, then, of everything. Of Drew, and the ghoul, and the first time she’d seen her Star and the first time she’d met Gwen; of the ghouls who killed her parents, and of her training with Gwen, and of her dreams of the Pale and her kingdom in the ice, and the Chosen One. “So,” Lacy said, “If I had to guess, given what Gwen’s told me about her father, I’d say that he wants to get his hands on this thing.” She pointed her index finger upwards at her Star. Its blue light mixed with the orange-gold firelight, weaving and threading together in a high-contrast tapestry. 

“I’d say that’s a fair assessment,” Gwen said. “If that Star is what it seems to be, then yes. He wants to steal it, and he wants to use it for himself to further his plans.”

“His plans of world domination.”

“Yes.”

“It still sounds insane.”

“Yeah, I’m with Lace on that one,” Danny said.

Isabella snorted. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I guess.”

“It beats the alternative.”

“Which is?”

“Dying!” Isabella said with a cheerful smile.

Danny took a moment to dwell in the silent aftermath of those words before he burst into another fit of hysterical laughter. Lacy blinked rapidly, while Gwen turned and gave her a look as if to ask ‘is he always like this?’

“More or less,” Lacy said. Everyone looked at her- she’d said that out loud without realizing. Dammit. “Anyway. Is it even possible to steal someone else’s Star? I thought they bonded to your soul, or something like that.”

“It’s usually not possible,” Gwen explained. “But there is a way. My mother knew it. Probably she taught it to Dad, using the Starlight Vault. It was in the sub-basement beneath the dungeon.”

“You guys had a dungeon?” Danny asked.

“Yeah. For my dad, it’s completely on-brand. And the Vault was where we kept the Stars my family stole, held hostage while we tried to bond them to our own people. And knowing him, he’s been thinking about precious little else the last decade, or however long he’s been planning this. Heck, knowing him, it might go back to before I was even born. Before any of us were born. All I know is that my father doesn’t stop until he gets… Not what he wants, but what he thinks he needs. What he thinks all of us need.”

And with that, Gwen turned her head up to the sky and looked to the stars. Lacy looked up as well, at her own Star as it hung low. She reached for it, and she felt another hand in the far distance reaching for it as well. Perhaps that had always been there, and she either couldn’t or wouldn’t see it previously. Some strange, monstrous mandible, using her Star for… Nothing less than what it was intended for. 

Maybe it wasn’t as much of a stretch as she thought.  

***

If you like the story, be sure to pick up the ebook here!

#original fiction #serial fiction #trans woman #web novel #trans protagonist #urban fantasy #wlw #action #horror #comedy #road trip #coming of age #bisexual #found family #redemption #ghouls #elves #trauma #complex ptsd #family trauma #childhood trauma #prophecy #chosen one #dark lord #wizard #necromancer #elf #druid #celtic mythology #irish

[thisfairytalegonebad]

forging an unbreakable bond, chapter 2/3

Title: forging an unbreakable bond Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Word count chapter 2: 1400 Summary: Ignis is the first one to be connected to Noctis. Gladio and Prompto follow years later. A prequel to pieces of a whole (previously titled three times they could feel each other, which is still the series' name)

Read chapter 2 below the cut, or on AO3 here.

“Nervous?” Ignis asks the night before Gladio officially gets sworn into the Crownsguard as Noct’s Shield. Not that he hasn’t been Noct’s Shield before that, but now he’ll finally gain access to the Prince’s Armiger.

“Nah,” Gladio says casually. When that just earns him a raised eyebrow, he grins and admits, “Alright, maybe a little. Can you blame me, though?”

Ignis smiles at him and takes a sip of his drink. Since Gladio found out earlier that day that he passed his Crownsguard exam, Ignis is treating him to a night out.

“No, of course not. It’s a special occasion, I’d say it’s natural.”

“Yeah,” Gladio says, draining the rest of his beer. “Hey, what’s it feel like?”

Ignis isn’t due for his Crownsguard exams for another year, but once it’s his turn, it’ll be a purely formal thing. After all, he’s been hooked up to Noct’s Armiger since they were children. Gladio used to be a little jealous when he was younger - as Noct’s Shield, he was supposed to be first .

Now that he’s older, and closer to both Noct and Iggy, he doesn’t really mind anymore. Really, he can’t think of anyone more deserving of being the first member of Noct’s retinue than Ignis, even if it’s not yet official.

Gladio doesn’t need to specify what he’s asking about - the connection to the Royal Armiger is always the most discussed topic among the new Crownsguard members, and everyone’s eager to know what it feels like.

“It feels… hm, it’s hard to describe. I hardly remember a time without it,” Ignis says, touching his fingers to his chin in thought. “The connection to the Armiger feels vast, powerful, even though I can wield but a fraction of its true strength. The magic feels almost alive, and once I learnt how to control it, it was as though it became a part of my own body, my own self.”

Gladio knows that Ignis has always been gifted when it came to magic. Once he’d been connected to the Armiger, he’d been put into magic lessons with Noct, and apparently, he’d taken to it as if he had been born with it. Unsurprising, considering Ignis rarely doesn’t excel at something.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s a little worried about what his own proficiency with magic will be like. His specialties lie in protection and brute force. He can’t imagine being particularly good at magic, but luckily, not all members of Noct’s retinue have to be.

“And you can feel Noct, yeah?”

“I can. It’s certainly the most notable part of the Armiger connection, and also my favourite. Noct is simply… always there. I can always feel his presence, no matter how far away he physically is.”

Damn. That does sound nice, Gladio thinks. People wouldn’t guess it, but he’s kind of sentimental, and the thought of that sort of constant companionship makes him feel all warm inside.

“And you?” he asks.

Ignis blinks at him as he takes another sip. “Me?”

“Am I gonna be able to feel you, too?” Gladio clarifies. After all, they’re gonna be sharing the same connection.

“I… haven’t considered that,” Ignis admits. “I cannot say for certain, after all, there’s never been another person before.”

Gladio shrugs. “Well, guess we’re gonna find out tomorrow.”

He wouldn’t mind if he could feel Iggy too. It’s a nice thought, the three of them, always connected no matter the distance.

----

Noct is clearly nervous. Gladio can almost see him vibrating out of his seat with nervous excitement as he watches his father perform the ritual for each of the new Crownsguards.

Gladio would be lying if he said his own nerves weren’t acting up, but it’s all excitement. He’s been the Prince’s Shield from the day Noct was born, and he’s here to stay. Getting permanently connected to him in a magic ritual is just another obvious step. No big deal.

He catches Noct stealing glances at him and flashes him a grin, hoping to reassure him. Noct offers a shaky smile in return, but it’s clear he’d rather just get it over with.

Lost in his own thoughts, Gladio watches the rest of the Crownsguard pledging their loyalties to the King until it’s finally his turn.

He catches Noct’s eye as he walks up to the crystal on steady legs and gives him a small nod.

The corner of Noct’s lip twitches upwards ever-so-slightly, but where just moments ago, there was a nervous, shaky teen, there now stands a proper Prince who holds Gladio’s gaze without a hint of uncertainty.

Gladio kneels before him and starts reciting his oath, the oath he’s practiced so many times he could recall it in his sleep.

“I, Gladiolus Amicitia, Son of Clarus and Orchis Amicitia, Shield to Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, hereby pledge my undying loyalty to the Crown of Lucis. And vow to provide my arms in times of war, my art in times of peace, and my service in times of need. I promise to defend my liege against all that desire him harm with word, deed and force. From this day forward, as long as I draw breath, I am bound to you, Prince Noctis, and you alone.”

Noct was nervous about messing up his part of the oath, Gladio knows from Ignis. But as he stands before Gladio, looking down at him with pride, his voice doesn’t waver as he delivers his reply to Gladio’s pledge.

“Let all here bear witness, that I, Noctis Lucis Caelum, son of Regis and Aulea Lucis Caelum, and 114th heir to the Lucian throne, hear and accept your oath of loyalty, given in good faith. In turn, I vow to defend and support you and yours, with word, deed and force. Those that keep and hold this oath true will be rewarded with my favour. Those that forget this oath and break faith shall be repaid with my judgement and dreadful wrath. Now, arise, Gladiolus Amicitia, so that our bond may be forged.”

Gladio stands, blinking rapidly to combat the sudden wetness in his eyes. Looking at Noct now, looking every part like the Prince he is, Gladio has never been so proud of him.

Simultaneously, they reach out and touch the crystal together, and when Gladio’s hand makes contact with the smooth stone, it’s as if he were touching something alive.

It’s brimming with magic beneath his fingers, and he feels its power flowing through him. The sensation is incredible and nearly takes his breath away, but there’s something else rapidly spreading through his body and filling every part of him.

Noct, he realises. It’s exactly like Ignis described, and more. For all the sappy books with flowery language Gladio reads, he’d struggle to express the sensation to anyone who hasn’t felt it for themselves.

Noct can feel him too, from the way he finally smiles at him, eyes glistening suspiciously.

Once Gladio pulls his hand back and breaks contact with the crystal, the flow of magic becomes less intense until it fades to the background, still there, but not as overwhelming. Noct, however, is a presence that doesn’t change, and Gladio is stupidly glad for it - now that he knows the sensation of feeling Noct so close within him, he couldn’t bear it if it were dulled.

And finally, he notices another presence, one that rivals Noct’s in intensity. It feels different; where Noct is calm and steady, the other presence feels warm and sheltering, and it only takes him a fraction of a second to figure out that this must be Ignis.

Once he realises this, he can’t really hold back the tears anymore, the wetness rolling down his cheeks for all to see. Let them see, he thinks. He’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, and he can’t bring himself to feel shame for this.

“Aw, Gladio, c’mon,” Noct complains in a whisper as they pass each other, both making their way back to their designated positions, but Gladio can see him blink tears out of his own eyes.

King Regis speaks again to finish the ceremony, but Gladio doesn’t hear a word of it.

His focus lies entirely on the presence of the two people he is now forever bound to, and he knows with absolute certainty that he would lay down his life for either of them in a heartbeat.

----

Read the entire fic on AO3 here.

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #gladiolus amicitia #noctis lucis caelum #thisfairytalegonebad's writing #*shows up three years late with starbucks* #like genuinely it's been three years

[theclaymorrigan]

FORGING THE SWORD OF THE GREAT QUEEN 📜 Scroll Eleven:

The sunset brought palatable tension to our little band. Dezbomiin would not take part in the summoning. The *jill* seemed to be the mother to my Fara that The Matron had never been, but the dragon's presence in our lives and these foreboding prophecies filled me with unease. It lent a certain credence to the extreme gravity these events were said to hold. I wanted only to live out my life basking in the love that had finally, finally found me. To that end, there was nothing I would not do for Fara.

We crested a rise that gave a good view of the moon Secunda swollen in the sky. I began the ritual without fanfare, uttering words unheard since my now-distant childhood:

"Pierce now the veil unseen,

Hear ye these words of mine.

Bathed with the moonlight's sheen

Prey and hunter's fate entwine.

Lord of Huntsmen, Prince Hircine

Heed thee to thy kith and kine."

The shape of the Father of Manbeasts manifested in the sky; unimaginably vast.

"Speak then," came the peal of his voice.

Fara and Sinder gazed agape while I said; "I come as one consecrated to you at my birth for restitution of the wrong done upon me."

"YOU DARE?" thundered the Daedric Prince.

"YOU'RE THRICE DAMNED RIGHT I DO!" I yelled back. "I have been deprived of my kin, my creed and my culture. I have been thrust into machinations of immortals without due preparation, all in your name. If you require me to be a sword, am I to see battle so untempered?"

"You are The Morrigan's sword, not mine, " Hircine countered. "The Maiden was to prepare you. She even had aid of a *jill*. I pledged a champion to oppose that of Lorkh and Bal. If you are not up to the task, just say so."

"Lorkh's champion is undead," I pointed out. "And Molag Bal has no representative in this I know of."

"Bal seeks a Daughter of Coldharbour, to replace the one hidden away by her mother, so that he might blot out the sun. He sends Dremora to champion him, as has always been his wont. You have indeed met this champion in the service of another who seeks the destruction of the mortal plane."

I had met only one Dremora. The very same who stood alongside the Thalmor Saudalf, my mother's slayer.

"Saudalf in mixed up in this," I realized aloud.

"Exactly so," confirmed Hircine. "The Thalmor seek to be free of Mundus and achieve Atherius as they deem their birthright. If they can destroy the towers, it may come to pass."

"That's what this whole 'Great War' is about then," I said. "Will you make me a werewolf again? Or am I to combat Briarhearts and Dremora with my bare hands?"

"You must fight with a weapon made in Reachmen fashion against the Briarheart," Hircine revealed. "To destroy a Dremora, I would advise a blade imbued with a chill that could cool the fires of Oblivion."

"Will you grant me such a blade, then?" I persisted.

"I am no Reachman, little hunter. You must fashion your own weapon by their precepts. The Maiden knows these well."

"But how could it quench Oblivion's flame, then?"

"Forge it in Shor's pyre, the name of he the Reachfolk call Lorkh. Thus shall it cool in the breath of a goddess."

"What in The Void is that supposed to mean?" I challenged.

"I have spoken," Hircine decreed. "If you had not at hand what you required to triumph, then you would truly be wronged. But if you are not clever enough to find a path to victory, it is no wrong of mine, bold one. Hunt well."

And with that, the spirit manifestation faded and filled the skies no more.

TO BE CONTINUED…

#elder scrolls #skyrim #elder scrolls blades #original character

[magpiejay1234]

So, I watched Shun vs. LDS trio. Let’s talk about it.

I would normally how this episode is relevant in the metanarrative of the storyline, but let’s ignore that for a second.

Let’s talk about how the odds are in favour of Shun. No, I’m not kidding.

*I’m not going to go over the power level difference, because trained guerilla commander vs. upper-class schoolchildren with good marks is not an even comparison.

*Secondly, Raidraptor - Rise Falcon. Your initial assumption would be that, since it is a Rank 4 monster, it is equivalent to a Level 4 monster. If you think that, you have a good job a Yugituber who whines about casual fans without having any knowledge about the franchise besides the collector market. Non, darling. A Rank 4 monster with three materials is actually equivalent to a Level 12 (4+4+4=12), and while Rise Falcon’s materials are not upper tier Level 4 monsters, the gang’s Level barely qualify as equivalent (Hokuto has the best shot in theory ironically, but he technically used the weakest materials possible to Summon Ptolemy).

*Another issue the nature of the archetypes. In case you have noticed, the gang didn’t use a whole lot of back row cards, even though they havee some of the better Duel Terminal archetypes in this term. Why is that you may wonder. Well, remember the magic word “Duel Terminal”. As our lovely Rata reminds us, Duel Terminal archetypes are meant to beatsticky to match the nature of Duel Terminal metagame. They can work in regular rules, but sub-optimally.

Now, what kind of archetypes Shun was fighting against? Mostly GX ones, my personal favourites of course. Which are known to be beatsticky. It is almost he was training for this specific moment in-universe for almost a year.

Now let’s talk about Summoning, and why this episode is such a pain in the ass:

*In the transition from 5D’s to ZEXAL, Konami adopted a rule of a soft-reboot, and made several cards that would cancel Synchros to force people to adopt Xyz. Normally, same should happen here, but it can’t. Why? Not only Konami invested heavily in Xyz Monsters by this point, so we can’t really go back. But also, as we discussed earlier, the Holactie-damned protagonist of the show’s main Summoning method will be Xyz. So, let’s talk about the tomatoman himself.

*Yuya’s Xyz Monsters will not go beyond Rank 7, and generally won’t require more than 2 materials, which makes him, in theory, weaker than many ZEXAL characters on his own (this won’t hold up in practice since the show will go out of its way to have him beat Kaito, but let’s remain here for a minute). However, the protagonist of the previous show’s monsters also don’t go beyond Rank 6 (since Utopic Dragon is more associated with his spirit partner, Astral), making Yuya, with Yuto’s assistance, the theoretically stronger Xyz user than the protagonist of the Xyz show, in paper, but also in reality (Yuma never beat Kaito, Yuya did beat Kaito). 

We won’t talk about how Shun is utilized as the superior Rank-Up-Magic user to Yuma either, since that is a different can of worms.

*And therein lies the problem of ARC-V in a nutshell. Because of the nature of Pendulum Summoning in-universe, we can’t actually market it as the cool new Summoning method, we must utilize existing ones, specifically, and overwhelmingly, Fusion, less overwhelmingly Xyz, and very occasionally Synchro, and almost never Ritual, or Tribute.

But since the amount of Xyz users is tiny, but we must promote Xyz because that is the protagonist’s choice of Summon (and Reiji’s preffered Summoning method, potentially Sawatari’s in the future as well, but for now my boy prefers Links because he is smart), the few Xyz Summoners there are must get tons of attention, and support for their cards, to be even equivalent to the vast, vast amount of Fusion users.

*This specific matchup between LDS trio and Shun is also kind of absurd since all three archetypes were quite literally the forerunners of Xyz Summoning (M-X-Saber Invoker is still banned lol), but also their very recent support for at least two of the members of the trio could c*ck Shun bad, and we would look a different sequence of events, where LDS trio barely manage to win, DON’T get promotion because of their below average performance, and basically become Reiji’s odd errand guys while keeping Shun away from quoting Communist Manifesto to everyone in the not-Miami.

...Actually that sounds kinda awesome. That should have gone with that route. It would make MUCH more sense in the context of Maiami Championship, and it would set up Sawatari’s idolization of Shun much earlier. You could go even further and have Hokuto be carded by Serena, and make THAT the reason Masumi would defect to Academia, and have Yaiba as Yuya neurotic Synchro coach as a parallel to his relationship with Gongenzaka.

*While the issue regarding the lack of Pendulums in the Pendulum show has now been covered with the introduction of new Pendulum archetypes in VRAINS era, and Series 11, the Grandfather Clause ARC-V created still hurts quite a lot, and serves as a huge obstacle for ARC-V archetypes getting Pendulums. There are probably more Pendulum archetypes introduced after ARC-V than in ARC-V.

#shitposting #ygo random thoughts #ygo arc-v meta

[invicta-carnelia]

A collection of characters from various TTRPGs and roleplays I've done in the last two years. More details below.

First row, left: Faina, a street-rat type raccoon cyberpunk character. Big smart, has the hots for aliens. Her girlfriend is very stronk (and is an alien).

First row, middle: Lucille the kobold. A witch (pathfinder class), slowly becoming an azata through mythic power. A player character belonging to a friend that I drew for him. She owns a tavern in a small town, and is the heart of the community.

First row, right: Zeo the havoc dragon. Lucille's best friend/lover. Her faithful dragon companion who beats the shit out of anything that gets near the two of them in battle.

Second row, left: Ohio the kyubi/dragon. A distant descendant from the kyubi god empress of her planet, Nikki Majima. However, this doesn't make her particularly special, as the empress's polycule is so vast and so long-lasting/active that 90% of the planet is descended from her at this point. A big fan of a future game called 'dragon golf', which includes golf club duels, flaming balls, and real time play with scores impacted by time and number of hits. No slowing down to aim allowed when your opponent is racing towards their ball!

Second row, middle: Colesse the kobold. A bard and cultist of Tiamat. She was turned into a kobold against her will and enslaved by an evil gem dragon, and now holds a grudge against all gem dragons.

Second row, right: Dare the cerberus. Big, strong, and followed around by three wolves, she's the baddest monster slayer in the land.

Third row, left: Nivvy the kitsune (pathfinder race). An oracle class, she specializes in healing, and is damn good at it. Through mythic power she slowly turned into a havoc dragon, and eventually ascended to become the goddess of life for her world.

Third row, middle: Nivvy's dragon form.

Third row, right: Rachel the foxfolk aasimar. Rachel grew up in a family of nobles who practiced illegal dark arts in secret. When she got caught mid-ritual her family claimed she was the only one participating in these dark arts and expelled her from the family. Now she's playing Curse of Strahd. Strahd reminds her of her dad.

Fourth row, left: Ludwig (more details on Jason)

Fourth row, right: Jason (birth name Ludwig). As an infant Jason was kidnapped by the government, and a clone was left behind without their mother knowing. The clone, now believed to be the original Ludwig, was made poorly, and doomed to die from numerous genetic defects. However, his mother refused to let him die, and pulled all of her resources and contacts until she found a solution, and had him fitted with cybernetics that would keep him alive. Years later the deception was discovered, and Jason, now a powerful superhero trained by the government from near-birth, was brought back into the family.

Fifth row, left: Gor the silver dragonborn. A cleric and total booknerd. The player character of someone else in a Curse of Strahd game I'm in.

Fifth row, middle: Trinity the Hydra. Former super-criminal. Now 'reformed'. Brief lived player character in a superhero ttrpg I ran.

Fifth row, right: Misaki the kitsune/kyubi. The first alternate reality character introduced in the Nikki Majima roleplay I frequently do with my friend (Nikki's post is coming soon). Misaki is the alternate reality version of Nikki's wife, Tsunade. She was once the empress of all of Asia, and got too greedy, trying to invade another world and take it for herself. After her defeat she was imprisoned as Nikki's tails just as Tsunade once was until she was reformed, and became another lover of hers. Eventually though, Misaki's evil side sprung up again, and after a horrifying murder she was banished. Later she was rescued by a Nikki from yet another alternate timeline, healed and reformed again, and found her forever home.

Sixth Row: A sketchy comic of Tsunade and Kumiko. Tsunade and Kumiko are two wives of Nikki. Though Kumiko is the oldest there (immortal and 2400 years old), she shirks any responsibility and lets everyone else raise the children, preferring to only be a member of the romantic side of the polycule, not the family side.

Seventh Row, left: Mifune the Kitsune. A master of the katana, and the way of the stalker (pathfinder class), Mifune fought through hoards of undead to retake his ancestral homeland, and harnessed his mythic power to become the ultimate trickster, and eventually became the god of time. Character belongs to @lightfox-labs

Seventh Row, right: Oleaminix the catfolk. Oleaminix was once an important member of the crusade against the undead empire of Nicriaa, but after a difficult strategic choice that cost the crusade a holy relic he was branded as a heretic and banished. Later he harnessed his mythic power and became the god of justice and comeuppance. Character belongs to @iamyourdoubt

Eighth Row, left: Ozymandias the dreamlands cat. Once a regular cat at a circus, a poorly worded genie wish gave him an intelligent mind, the powers of a psion, and set him down a path of mythic power to become the god of bureaucracy and balance (temporarily one of the gods of death as well while the other was... on sabbatical)

Eighth Row, right: Glitter the dragon. Glitter was once a succubus demon, but after being captured by Nick Mason, an alternate version of Nikki Majima who was a man, and grew up in America rather than Japan, she was reformed from her demonic ways and transformed magically into a metallic dragon with the features of gold, bronze, silver, copper, and brass dragons.

Ninth Row, left: Credence Stone/Miss Stone. Once the high priestess of a secretive cult, after losing her position she also lost her name, as it was only granted to her as the high priestess, and she was a nameless slave prior. Now she only answers to Miss Stone.

Tenth Row, right: Kuro. Before being injected with super serum Kuro was a low level yakuza, in the midst of a national crisis as a rogue kyubi slowly melted the country and its infrastructure. He used his newfound power to defeat and imprison her, and make himself the new emperor of Japan, returning it to a stable and orderly state.

Tenth Row, left: Thilnea the Gnoll. Thilnea grew up in fighting pits, slowly learning the savage fighting style of the barbarian. When old enough she was sold as a slave, and now serves an evil noble seeking political power.

Tenth Row, right: Amy the protogen/kyubi. The daughter of Nick Mason and Sterling the Protogen, Amy is sweet as a button, and soft as a cloud.

Eleventh Row, left: Princess Halimor the demon/kitsune. Halimor's claim to royalty is more than questionable. Her country was overtaken by an empire generations ago, and now she serves the same man who killed her great grandparents in exchange for mythic power, which slowly twists her into a demoness, until she met her end at Mifune's blade.

Eleventh Row, right: KnK (Keith, Nelson, Kevin). The hydra husband of Nikki Majima. They originally intended to give all their heads a K name and go by an acronym, but realized that wouldn't work on their third head. You know. For reasons. The three of them adore cars, soccer, and Vegas.

#dragon #dragoness #anthro #scalie #kyubi #kitsune #fox #protogen #hydra #gnoll #hyena #dnd #pathfinder #dungeons and dragons #d&d #possum #cat #catfolk #dragonborn #raccoon #cerberus #cyberpunk #art #my art

[entities-of-posts]

Do you know what is truly Vast, Archivist? Would you like an example? Well here's one!

-Mike Crew

HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO ACCEPT VISITORS. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION PAGES OF WRITTEN STATEMENTS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY ARCHIVES. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF PAGES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR VAST AVATARS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR YOU. HATE. HATE.

#I HATE YOU. #Vast ritual #statements #another damn vast ritual #Mike Crew