#invented magic maths

[art-from-within]

Radagon probably had the biggest “I could never be better than first elden lord” thoughts everyday marika let him swap bodies. Like think abt it. He becomes elden lord, but every one is still. BITCHINg about motherfucking GODFREY. The FIRST ELDEN CHAD. GET IT RADAGON. FIRST ELDEN C H A D. Even Miriel is confused as to how he came abt right? Like yea he was a champion…but the successor to the legend GODFREY? GOD in his name Godfrey? Ehhhhhhhhh you know the ER denizens was shitting tears everytime he walked anywhere. Betting u 100 mil runes ppl were crying abt Godfrey’s exile during his own crowning ceremony

Godfrey is so seductively astonishing in his bearing that he gets passes Radagon can only dream of. Godfrey is tarnished? Dgaf he is top tier. Godfrey grafts? (Serosh) what a madlad. Godfrey wants to genocide so bad he needs a beast to hold him back? That’s what makes him soooo cool. Then comes unkown radagon and all the colosseum fun leaves with Godfrey. And what does Radagon do? What is he cool with? “Magic maths (golden order fudamentalism)” oh. A fucking nerd.

Man becomes concious, right infront of him is a big Godfrey portrait that some dumbass stuck up. Marika probably has wet dreams about Godfrey still. Loud omens (ahem morgott ahem) singing abt Godfrey from the shunning grounds. Serosh symbol everywhere. People don’t remember seconds…they remember firsts. And its quite obvious the lands between still remembers. You have got godrick and his bannermen, well yea makes sense he is his descendant right? Then explain starscourge Radahn having more lions covering his body than red hair cells. Ranni probably hates his guts. Rykard resorts to blasphemy (also probably hates his guts.) Atleast he had malenia and miquella…for a while atleast until Miquella said “your maths aren’t mathing enough” and left him….

sucks to be radagon. But hey, he gets to selfcest atleast. Except Marika fucking hates his guts too because they are polar opposites.

“Hey babe-“

“LEAL hound of the GoLdEn OrDeR”

“Yea….(turns off)”

#elden ring #sucks to be radagon #man is still funny to me #invented magic maths #so peak nerd #and even more peaceful than godfrey. but he can’t kick ASS right? not like g o d f r e y #morgott’s face when he realizes radagon is the ‘root’ of his troubles… #radagon of the golden order #queen marika the eternal #godfrey the first elden lord #morgott the omen king #starscourge radahn #lunar princess ranni #praetor rykard #malenia blade of miquella #miquella the unalloyed #Miriel pastor of vows #serosh #that is too many tags #but hey that’s half the fun lol

[fluffypotatey]

rainbow tree

HOW

H-HOW??????

#'magic isn't real-' THEN EXPLAIN THIS THEN???? #EXPLAIN THIS SORCERY #MAGIC IS REAL #MAGIC IS REAL AND THE SCIENCE AND MATH WE INVENT ONLY BEHOLDS A PINCH OF THE MAGICAL SYSTEM WE ARE UNDER #asks #gumy!

[tomatoderby]

My interpretation of a human version of Leg Cat, mfxdraw’s OC.

I don’t really know much about leg cat other than he’s british and has committed several crimes (??) so I tried to make my human version of him look like a scamp.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated but please do not repost!

#leg cat #mfxdraws #mfx50k #tomatoderby #not my oc #sorry about the prosthetic arms #I wanted to make them look more fantasy like #see mfx made a reel talking about what each of his ocs would get cancelled on twitter for #and leg cat's was comically long #and included being british inventing math and like #assault and battery if i recall correctly #it was probably a joke but i like to think this reel indicates that leg cat is an eternal being #perhaps a trickster figure or a lesser deity even #and so I wanted to give him magic prosthetics #but idk if that came across well #cat boy oc #cat boy #long post

[mycological-mariner]

I can finally finish writing what I actually enjoy writing about (the made-up people who have been living in my head for 9 years)

#blorbo from my. from my imagination but that sounds less fun #I’m only at 10k words but like. idc because I ADORE these characters this story this world all of it #I had invent a new world because I didn’t want to work out the real world maths #also there’s magic and sailing ships that actually fly so - #a VERY proto-version of this story was alternate history instead of straight up fantasy #I absolutely had age of sail but what if sky smugglers in mind writing that #not Pirates Smugglers #but that ain’t this story (this is an almost 100% inland story wow) #this story has a much smaller cast and much bigger stakes #I like these three idiots #I like them so much and I’m so happy I get time to write about them again #GOD I’d kill to share my story #these are the fuckers I can’t shut up about #I love sailing and the ocean so. still managed to give the ocean a cameo lol #one day I’ll go back to my fantasy age of sail book (136k words on that one - I nearly finished that book!) #the only published things I have to my name are scripts RIP #loser lol #anyways

[cryptotheism]

I hope this doesn't come off as disrespectful, because I'm genuinely curious, but like...is alchemy "real"? Because the way you speak about it is how I wish I could, myself, appreciate it and you're the closest I've ever found to a real world wizard which excites me a great deal. I totally respect if for you it's actually just an interesting academic study without intention, I'm just curious for how you view it in that lens.

No that's a good question!

Short answer: Yes, as in alchemists were real people who could actually do cool shit sometimes, but they weren't actually transmuting lead into gold, you need a particle accelerator for that.

In the 4th century, you weren't a scientist, that word hadn't been invented yet. You were a Natural Philosopher. You studied everything from the stars, to mathematics, to medicine, to the nature of herbs and stones.

In the medieval era, you weren't an astronomer, you were an astrologer. Telling people's horoscopes involved a lot of astronomical math. There wasn't really a difference between astronomy and astrology.

In the renaissance era, you weren't a chemist. The term chemist didn't exist yet. You were an alchemist. You tried to make gold sometimes, but you also manufactured dyes, glass vessels, cosmetics, paints, and medicines. You were kind of a whitesmith, and a glass-blower, and a doctor, and sometimes just a con-man.

Alchemy and chemistry have a relationship similar to Astrology and Astronomy. But, don't think of alchemy as just "Chemistry with magic." Alchemy is the father of modern chemistry. It is the cocoon that chemistry sprouted out of.

The thing is, alchemy is more "real" than astrology is. You know what a common use of astrology was in the medieval era? Diagnosing diseases. You'd check someone's horoscope to determine what medicine to give them. This didn't work. A medieval astrology textbook isn't going to be useful for diagnosing why your stomach hurts.

But!

Medieval alchemy texts are actually useful sometimes. If you want to dye some copper so it looked more like gold, there are alchemy texts that can tell you how to do that. If you want to distill the mercury out of some cinnabar, alchemists could do that. They didn't really know how or why that worked, but they could do it! If you want a potion that could make you immortal, the alchemists could make a philter of mercury and lead that would definitely 100% kill you and it would hurt the whole time you were dying. You can't win em all.

Im writing about the history of alchemy on my patreon if you wanna support me!

#alchemy

[lilithgreye]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲

(Sun in 1h): Sports, fashion/beauty related things [examples: makeup, shopping, etc], looking good, being a leader, new beginnings, etc

(Sun in 2h): Shopping/spending money, eating, singing, financial stability, collecting things, giving/receiving things, being around others that bring stability to your life, cooking, going out to eat, etc

(Sun in 3h): Learning, socializing and sharing your opinions and perceptions with others, social media, math, siblings, school, watching gossip go down but not being involved in it yourself, etc

(Sun in 4h): Your family/time with your family, emotional outlets, holidays, being your most feminine self, baking, going to the ocean/beach, self care, etc

(Sun in 5h): Romance, sex, doing risky things, children, performing, acting, concerts, video games/games in general, watching other peoples drama but not getting involved, etc

(Sun in 6h): Helping others/doing things for others, exercising or taking care of your physical health, being hygienic [example- showering], constantly improving yourself as a person, animals, etc

(Sun in 7h): Being in relationships, always having a companion, partnerships, looking attractive/beautiful, music, equality, harmony, etc

(Sun in 8h): Sex/orgasms, solving mysteries/crimes, having power, keeping your life private, deep connections/intimacy with people, magic, the occult, etc

(Sun in 9h): Traveling, teaching others, school, learning things, photography, television, media, experiencing different cultures, your grandparents, religion, your beliefs, being involved with the law, etc

(Sun in 10h): Your career, working, fame, being a/the boss and directing things, achieving things, becoming an expert in things, being responsible/put together, your father figure, increasing your status, etc

(Sun in 11h): Hanging out with your friends, technology, partying, film, engineering, science, socializing, inventing things, manifesting, being involved in clubs, etc

(Sun in 12h): Sleeping, healing others, spirituality/spiritual things [examples: astrology, tarot, collecting crystals, etc], music, weed, being alone, etc

video creds: midnightvision

#astrology chart #birth chart #astrology #astrology blog #astrology community #sun house #sun #sun astrology

[phantomrose96]

Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 2

(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1)

Chapter 2, because @ciestess voiced an idea that absolutely consumed my entire mind and I could not rest until I made this

...

Danny’s eyes tracked the swing of gunfire raining bullets across the horizon. Tucker reloaded, crouched, dodged left and pivoted, another blast of bullet confetti launched through a gaggle of zombie heads. He tossed the magazine and reloaded. Click. Ching. Danny flinched when a zombie smashed a hammer clean through Tucker’s head.

 “God. Fucking…” Tucker pulled out of his hunch. He unclamped his fingers from his controller like bug legs unfurling. He extended the controller to Danny, bouncing it in his grip. “Your turn.”

“Huh?” Danny asked, as if he hadn’t been watching Tucker’s game the whole time.

“You. You’re up. I died.”

Danny accepted the controller, reloaded the screen, and jogged about a hundred feet forward before the first horde of zombies took him out football-style from the left. The death screen rolled.

“Oops,” Danny said.

“Not your best work.” And Tucker took the controller back. Tucker shot a few spare glances to Danny while the level restart loaded in. “Is it Vlad?”

“No. Well, yes,” Danny answered, flopping back into his normal position on the Foley attic armchair. Tucker’s mom had planned to toss it ages ago, before it became Danny’s chair. “But at least he left when my parents went all zombie mode into the basement.” Danny picked absently at the scabs of leather flaking from the armrest. “It was just weird.”

“I don’t mean this as an insult, but it’s definitely not the first time your dad’s gotten some math wrong,” Tucker said. “He blows up like three things a week doesn’t he?”

“He does. But he doesn’t care when he gets that math wrong. This one was like I broke something important.” Danny’s expression soured, and he picked a leather flake clean off the chair. “Vlad did, I mean.”

“Does any of the math actually work?” Sam offered from Tucker’s desk. She leaned an elbow around the back of his chair, head tilted to Danny. A pencil dangled from her loose fingers, nib-half worn to the History of an Invention report she was actually working on. Tucker had half-assed his earlier in the day about the palm pilot. Danny had not done his. “Like, it’s all crackpot theory, right? Do ghosts even follow math?”

“I think they follow some math. It’s not magic that makes the ecto-bazookas work, or the Fenton-phones work, or—well the thermos DIDN’T work—until I made it work.”

The unspoken thing Danny had been not-quite-saying hung in the air. He said it this time.

“So I’m wondering if I did it. Like the Fenton thermos. And now maybe they’re gonna do the math all over and realize the missing piece of the equation is one half-ghost son.”

“Well the order is backwards, for starters,” Sam said. “Thermos worked because you pumped ghost-energy into it. How would you have done that to the portal? You were human when you walked in.”

“Sam’s right. What do you think you brought to the table exactly? Button-slapping abilities?” Tucker loaded up the next level. “It was their portal, and their math, and it worked. There’s a million-billion kinds of math and they probably just forgot one thing.”

Tucker took a headshot and died. Mechanically, he handed the controller back to Danny.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Ask Vlad. He’s got a portal.”

“Like Vlad’s gonna tell me.”

“Just promise to be his diligent little son minion or whatever. He’s easy. Wait, let me do the next level. You know I like the cyberpunk levels.”

“It’s not your turn,” Danny said, reeling the controller just out of Tucker’s wiggling grasp.

“I’ll let you do two in a row for your next turn.”

Danny knocked Tucker away, distracted just long enough for a zombie cyberbeam to launch from the horizon and take him out through the head.

The screen washed sepia. Danny stared at it. You died.

…

Danny hadn’t really meant to stay the night at Tucker’s place. They’d just gotten really far in Man vs. Zombie, and Sam had gone home, and Danny was just resting his eyes between his turns with the controller.

So when he woke to the bright strip of sunlight beaming into his eyes through the attic skylight, his first thought was Fuck.

He was awake, here, morning, school. Fuck he had not actually done his History of Invention report, despite the stupid amount of grief it had already caused him this weekend. He pulled his face out of the armrest, now pineapple-patterned from the decaying leather, and pawed for his phone fallen on the floor. If it was still early enough, he could maybe still afford to desperately half-ass something before sixth period science.

He flipped his phone open. A text from Jazz. “Don’t come home. Make up an excuse.”

“…Fuck,” Danny whispered, through the sensation of his heart launching itself into his throat.

He scrambled upright, whole body shaking at the mercy of adrenaline shock so soon after being pulled from dead sleep. His mouth was dry, teeth unbrushed, wearing his old clothes from yesterday, report not done, Don’t come home, Don’t come home, Don’t come home.

They knew. He’d fucked it up. Somehow they knew. The math. Something. And it had to be with guns blazing, because Jazz would not send that text if they’d taken the “We accept you” angle.

Were they coming for him? On their way here? Tracking by his phone? Did they like Mrs. Foley enough to not SWAT-slam her against the wall when she opened the door for them so they could come capture the ghost pretending to be their son?

Fuck.

Danny was upright. Danny was standing. Danny was shaking. Danny wasn’t actually sure what the next thing was he was supposed to do.

Tucker’s ball of blankets rustled from the couch. “Mmph?” he asked, articulately.

“I have to. Go deal with my parents, I think,” Danny said, because any plan felt a little better than no plan. “I think they know.”  

Danny was a ghost. Danny was gone. Tucker sat upright, alone, blinking himself awake. He was staring at the You Died sepia screen still displayed on monitor, now burnt into the plasma of the tv.

…

Danny paused with his human hand slick on the Fenton front door. The gears in his mind turned as his plan quickly unraveled into no-plan. He had no plan, right? What was his plan? Handle this Man vs Zombie style—open the front door ready to dodge wide, because both zombies and parents liked to camp behind closed doors with bazookas at the ready?

“—absolutely absurd, and entirely unscientific, with no probability of being true. It goes against everything we know about neurology.”

Oh, Jazz. Was Jazz enough of a bazooka-deterrent? Probably not. Knowing his parents.

Danny turned the knob. His heart hammered. If bazookas, dodge left.

The first thing he noticed was in fact the no-bazookas. It was what he was most looking for. And so it was Jazz’s expression he did not notice until second—whites of her eyes wide, snapped to Danny, with a look that would be accusatory if worry hadn’t won that battle. Her cheeks were pale. Her hair was unbrushed.

He noticed his parents third. Compulsively, he rocked back onto his right foot, still outside the doorway, still outside the threshold of the Fenton family household.

Seeing his parents tired was of absolutely no shock-value to Danny. It was at least a twice-per-month tradition to see them haul themselves up from the basement sweaty and glaze-eyed at 7am, babbling excitement about some new ecto-spectral-hoozy-whatsits whose concept had shimmed into their minds at 8pm and now existed, fully operational, 11 nonstop hours later.

So it wasn’t the exhaustion on their face. It wasn’t the stagnant smell of sweat or the paleness of their faces or the stains on their clothes.

It was the way they looked at him. Like their whole world had fallen apart with his foot passing over the doorstep.

“Danny,” Jazz said, choked, a break in the silence. “Things are…! A little weird here. So maybe, if you wanna just get to school, I’ll finish clearing up—there’s a misunderstanding Mom and Dad have with their math. I am state finalist in Math League and have been studying college-level calculus in preparation for school applications so I’ve offered to help them fix their math, or prove to them—”

“Danny,” Maddie said, an echo of Jazz, but it felt worse. Danny scanned her hands for anything pointed enough to be a weapon. They were empty. “Danny can I just ask you something honestly, just quickly? Jazz is right. I’m just trying to clear up an issue with our math. And I won’t be mad. Whatever the answer is, I won’t be mad. I just want an honest answer.”

She stepped closer. Danny fought the urge to match her with a step backwards. Her eyes roved over him in a starved way, looking for something.

“Were you there when the portal turned on?” she asked.

“No, I wasn’t,” Danny answered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his face to make it look convincing. “It just. It needed some time to boot up, or something, right? That’s what you two said.”

“That was our guess ,but we don’t really know. The security tapes are wiped. We tried to make them EMF-resilient but a very, very strong blast of EMF could still corrupt them.”

“Yeah. I mean the portal’s gonna do that, right? When it turned on? Ripping open the Ghost Zone that’s—gotta be huge EMF.” Danny’s focus bounced between his mother’s eyes. “Just a guess. I really don’t know. I was in bed, already, whenever the portal started working.”

Left eye. Right eye. Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was sad. Was this part a trick? Make Danny let his guard down, go hey Mom need a hug? and that’s when the bazooka-whipping starts? It made his ribs feel scratchy. Stop looking at me like that.

“Have you felt anything weird at all, since the portal started working? Any gaps in your memory? Any parts of you that don’t feel right? Is there any part of you that feels like it’s changed in a way you can’t explain?”

She reached a hand out. Danny instinctively recoiled.

“Uh, yeah. They taught us about this in health class. They call it ‘puberty’ there.”

“Danny,” Jack said, and his voice was scratchy from disuse, from a long and uncharacteristic amount of time spent not speaking. “Did you die in the machine?”

A beat. A moment. Like when the zombie sends a hammer through your head.

“I’M alive!” Danny declared with a crack in his voice, with hands slammed to his chest. “Look at me. What are you talking about?”

“It’s the only math that works,” Jack continued, his words like chalk, his voice too dead. He looked too much at Danny. “If one of you two walked into the portal, and died in it. And I don’t think it was Jazz.”

This was bad. This was weird. Danny had ghost powers, sure. ‘They can’t kill me I’m already dead,’ was a funny joke sometimes. But it was funny as a joke. He was a ghost sham, really. A faker, a LARPer, whatever Tucker had called it. He was a human who was just kind of a freak now. More of a freak than he already was. He looked dead, for someone who was super-duper still alive.

He’d buried that worry, already. They weren’t allowed to bring it back.

“Look… at me!” Danny continued, mouth dry. He threw his arms wide. “Look how super alive I am! I’m awake! Using energy! Eating food and sleeping with my human body. I’ve got flesh and blood and bones and stuff! I’m not a ghost-expert but ghosts don’t have that.”

This was weird. This made Danny feel like something was scratching to get free from inside his rib cage. It twisted his entrails. Sure Tucker and Sam had thought he was dead, for those first horrible few minutes, but then he changed back to a human and the nightmare ended there. Jazz never called him dead. The ghosts called him freak and halfa and whelp, but never ‘one of them.’ That was his whole thing: being different from the ghosts who became ghosts by something so normal as dying.

He was not dead.

“If you died in the portal, your ghost wouldn’t have been ripped out of your body. It would have been allowed to stay, and then you’d be…” Jack hesitated. “I don’t know what you’d be, but you wouldn’t be alive.”

“Dad,” Jazz said, and she stood herself bodily between Danny and Jack. “What an absolutely messed up out-of-line thing to say to your son! You don’t know that! Dad you’re tired, and just because you weren’t able to solve your math problem in one night doesn’t mean you get to treat Danny like this! I said I’d help you with your math! Now apologize to Danny.”

Jazz looked over her shoulder to Danny, her expression falling at the sight of Danny’s face.

Danny backed up over the door threshold. He shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this. This is weird. I’m gonna go to school now.”

“Danny, I promise they’re just—”

Danny turned on heel. No backpack, no change of clothes. He took to the street without a single school supply and moved, and moved.

It was supposed to be guns-blazing. Molecule by molecule. Headshot you died. He’d prepared for that this whole time, in the shower, in his dreams, in his daydreams in class. He’d duck and dodge and explain himself over and over until they understood him.

Danny wasn’t sure he was capable of explaining himself anymore.

…

Danny knocked the heavy iron knocker. He was in ghost form, as a threat. He wondered if he still smelled like yesterday’s sweat now that he wasn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes. Now he was wearing the clothes he died in.

No one answered the door. Danny phased himself in.

“Vlad!” he called, and his words echoed along the slope of the two elaborate winding staircases that twirled and met at the top like caduceus. Gold-plated banisters. A security camera buried somewhere in the ceiling, no doubt.

Danny phased into the library. His eyes roved the three stories of bookshelves wrapping the perimeter like a sheath. Gaudy. Audacious. Like Vlad would ever read that much. Danny racked his brain because some something in here was the secret to opening Vlad’s laboratory. Jazz had told him. Some gold something to be touched, and pressed down, or pushed up? Or it opened to a button. Or a keypad, maybe.

Danny spat a curse. He was being stupid. He was frazzled. He wasn’t thinking straight.

He dove into the floor below. Intangibility was the only key he needed.

The sheetrock was cold, even when he wasn’t touching it. The darkness was so piercing it made static jump in his vision, some weird trick of the brain Jazz had explained where, in the absence of all light, the brain hallucinates its own. It came with a sensation of pressure against his eyeballs, and a complete disorientation of direction, and he simply just kept going down.

Danny emerged into a wash of cold air. Cold like metal was cold. The low lights of dials and clicking machines were bright to his eyes previously dunked into the pitchest nothing. He drank it in, eyes grateful for light no matter how little, inner ear grateful for orientation that had left his head swimming and his stomach tight.

His feet tapped down to the stone ground, and the air that breezed past him was chilled.

“Vlad!” Danny called again.

Nothing.

He moved by the floor lighting, which ran in trim along the perimeter of the laboratory rooms. It lit things from beneath, made machines gaunt and specimens into sharp geometries of darkness and flesh. It made the Fenton lab feel warm in a way Danny had never considered it warm.

His feet clacked. His breath puffed.

“Vlad!”

He followed light, followed a wash of green miasma percolating from some far room and catching on the particulate of water and dust that disturbed with the air currents. Danny disturbed it too, walking through, wearing its shade of green which his shadow robbed from the wall behind him.

“Vlad. I swear to god Vlad.”

He crossed the threshold of the portal room, where the dusting of green ambience became a medallion wash of golden-green coating, painting every surface of the room. The Fenton lab was one single expansive room, portal anchored into the far wall and facing all the dead and empty air in front of it. This was different. A much smaller room, walled on all sides save for the simple doorway, and each surface reflected the color back deeper and heavier. It was like a fishtank in the wall of an aquarium lit radiant aqua-blue by all the lights within, but green instead, pure ecto-green.

Danny approached the open portal. He stared into its placid swirls, mesmerized, and scared of it, in a way he hadn’t previously felt about the portal in the Fenton basement.

“Ah, seems the cat is a good mouser after all, it dragged you in my boy.” The words came sing-song. They came spine-shivering for Danny, who felt them like hot breath on his shoulder and reeled back, pivoted, fire crackling to life in his palms.

Vlad stood at the doorway, a solid 20 steps from Danny.

“Vlad.”

“So I’ve been hearing.”

“I need you to explain the portal.”

“Ah, I see you’ve spoken to your parents.” Vlad stepped in, washed in the ecto-green which muddied his ruby red eyes. He held his hands behind his back, cape trailing, a smirk on his fanged face. “Last I heard they weren’t taking the news very well.”

“What news. What did you tell them?”

“Me? Nothing. In fact, very kindly for your sake I even tried to drive them away from the answer but… We know how stubborn your parents can be.”

“What answer?”

“That you’re dead, Daniel.”

Shock washed like ice down Danny’s spine. It sent prickles like spider legs across his skin.

“Well, I suppose there’s still chance for some doubt. It could be Jazz. She could take the fall for you, if there’s any benefit to that at all.”

“I’m a halfa. We are halfas,” Danny said.

“A silly made up word by a silly child,” Vlad mused, and the light smile left his lips. “We are dead.”

“I’m not dead,” and Danny’s words were small, and they were childish.

“You are. I am. Embrace it. It’s nicer this way.” Vlad took a few steps closer, lionously tall in his saunter, feet clacking the ground. “It’s very freeing. After you’ve died already what is there left to fear?”

“I’m alive.”

“You’re a dead body with its soul still stuffed inside it like a Christmas goose. A lot of things in your body don’t work anymore, but ghosts don’t work right anyway and it is, for all its defiance of nature, a perfectly symbiotic relationship.” Vlad’s smile brushed his lips again, warm. “It’s nice to share this with you. Isn’t it nice to share things with people?”

Danny’s heart was beating too fast in his chest, and it was a human heart, a human beat. “I’m not dead,” he declared.

“Your wounds heal quickly because the ghost piloting you only needs to remember form. It stacks cells back into place and calls it good. You’ll endure fatal injuries as you no doubt have many times in your fights, but they’re trivial because physical trauma is not what kills a ghost. It’s what creates one. You’ll necrotize in places but it’s okay, because you’ll carry on, and it will bother you only if you let it bother you, if you’re too sentimental about the puppet you’re still inside.” Vlad closed in closer, neck craning to appraise Danny. “Ghosts love a facsimile of life so you will keep your heart pumping, your lungs breathing. You’ll eat and you’ll sleep but you’ll find you won’t perish if you don’t. It just won’t be a good time if you want to keep occupying your flesh form. Take better care of it. You won’t get another.”

“You’re psychotic. And you’re wrong.”

“I have all the math to prove it.” Vlad leered from over Danny’s shoulder. He circled the boy, knocking Danny’s balance, who still on a hair trigger stood ready to fight. The light from the ghost portal painted Vlad’s face like the phases of the moon as he moved. “Did your parents explain that part to you properly?”

“No, because they didn’t get the math right.”

“Oh they’ve gotten it right. This time. It only took them two decades longer than it took me.” The portal rolled like static, and its fizzling pattern crashed like an ocean wave across Vlad’s cape. “No amount of man-made power is sufficient to drag the entire fabric of the Ghost Zone up against our own, tear a hole through it, and anchor it to a stable frame. It requires something with a pull on the Ghost Zone, a strong pull, and that thing is a human life at the moment of an extraordinarily violent death.”

Danny backed a step away from the portal, from Vlad, but the walls boxed him in. He swam in its green light.

“You stepped in and you turned the portal on, that’s what you thought, right, Daniel? Pressed a careless button on the inside and now here we are. Silly parents for not finding that button first.” Vlad’s face hardened. “No. Jack and Maddie knew about the button. Maddie explained it to me over the phone. What engineer designing and building their own portal would forget the location of the on button? They’d pressed it from the outside. It didn’t work. And so you pressing the button was not the important part. It was you dying to the electrocution that clicked everything right into place. And while your ghost should have been torn from your lifeless corpse and pulled to the Ghost Zone you instead pulled the Ghost Zone here. Your ghost got to stay put. You opened the portal. You became the undead freak you are. And now we’re here.”

Danny’s eyes bounced between Vlad’s. His cheeks felt hot, like he was enduring an accusation of wrongdoing. And he had none of the knowledge to refute what was being said.

“You’re messing with me. You’re wrong,” Danny shot back. He thrust an arm out, drenched in the fog of the portal. “If the portal needs a person to die in it then explain your portal! Are you so casual about it? You killed someone? You’re admitting to murder and you think I won’t do anything about it?”

Anger flashed like a storm across Vlad’s face. His aura swelled, pressing down with a pressure on Danny as Vlad halted and cast his shadow clear across Danny, coating the back wall. “The killing of other people with the wanton carelessness of half-baked machines is the domain of Jack and Jack alone. I’ve brought no such harm onto anyone else.”

“Then how do you have this portal?”

“This portal? This portal that I’ve had for 20 years? Which I opened when I solved the piece of Jack’s broken math that he was never able to solve until this morning?” Vlad stalked closer, hunched, imposing. Danny stepped back. “My boy Daniel you’ve had it so easy. You had it so simple. A truly clean break. So clean so lucky. A single lethal dose of electricity and it was already over. I’m jealous. You never even suffered.”

Vlad stepped closer, striking distance, arm extended. Danny flinched, but Vlad only swept his cape around, clenched in his fist, and pivoted to approach the portal.

“Put out of your misery before it even started.” Vlad slammed his fist against the portal rim, and the explosive metallic clang bounced through the rooms. His laugh belted out. “I should have been so lucky.”

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A sophomore in college. A man actively in the midst of sabotaging his social life to chase a woman who was already deeply in love with Vlad’s best friend who he hated more every day. He wasn’t sure what he ever enjoyed about Jack’s bumbling ineptitude, or his loudness, his brashness, his poor social skills, his bad breath, his mullet. Maybe Vlad had gravitated to Jack because deep down he loved how superior it made him feel to surround himself with the likes of Jack Fenton… And now, he hated how enraged it made him to watch Maddie’s eyes skip past his to focus on Jack Fucking Fenton again and again and again and again.

But surely there was hope still. Surely it was a matter of time before the rose-tinted glasses fell away and Maddie saw bumbling and inept and every such word in the basket when she looked at Jack. There’d come the day she tested the waters with Vlad to complain about one of Jack’s little quirks, and they’d find solace together in all the things Vlad was that Jack wasn’t, and all the things Vlad had that Jack didn’t. And he’d be gone, back to bumble elsewhere, and it would be just them.

The day didn’t come. It wouldn’t come. And maybe Vlad needed to change himself for Maddie. If he listened to her and Jack’s ghost ramblings, if he could put Jack in his place and solve the things Maddie couldn’t, it would show her. She’d understand.

Because that was the thing about Jack. His math was never right. Enduring Calculus 1 with Jack was all it took to prove this to Vlad. How many times he’d caught a single error on a single line for Jack, like a dropped stitch that would unravel the whole sweater. Every problem, without exception. Jack only passed on his homework grade with Vlad’s help. On his tests, he failed.

So Vlad was staring at Jack’s equation, full of bogus math, which Vlad knew was wrong because Jack had penned it, and Vlad had not yet fixed it himself.

“I’m telling you Jack, it won’t work.”

“Bogus V-man it totally will!”

It wouldn’t. But Vlad wouldn’t fix it for him. Not yet. Vlad would let Jack embarrass himself first, fully in front of Maddie, watching on, judging. Vlad would solve it for her. After. Once Jack had made a fool of himself for the hundredth time since college began.

He leaned in to study the portal frame. The gears were turning in his head already. He didn’t hear the whir of the power source catch.

…

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A tube ran down his nose and into his lungs, supplying oxygen for lungs which were failed by a diaphragm sloughing itself away. He was poisoned from the outside-in. Irradiated by ecto-energy none of the nurses or doctors could fully understand. It damaged his DNA. First obvious in the skin of his face where the blisters of his ecto-acne drained and sloughed. “Acne” was the wrong word. An unkind word. They were boils where the blast had cooked his skin, microwaved his cells. The skin on his body blackened over time. Organs decayed. Vlad Master read a lot about radiation sickness. He knew everything he had to expect.

Jack and Maddie had stopped visiting. They were dating now. It was on their last visit they’d told him, and Vlad hadn’t taken it well, and he’d perhaps burned a few bridges with the words he chose. It was deserved. Considering what Jack did to him.

He’d found the error in Jack’s math, by the way. Errors, but all the rest paled in impact compared to the lambda. The ecto-energy. The necessary ecto-potential to pull the Ghost Zone here. How stupid. How idiotic. For Vlad to die to a machine so botched in its construction.

When Vlad was released from the hospital, it was not because they’d cured him. It had been because there is a certain cruelty in making a 19-year-old live the last of his days bedded down in a white-walled room with just his books, his equations, and no one coming to visit anymore.

He was released with bedrest instructions. Vlad did not heed them. In his beater car, every cell of his body aching, he drove. At the materials lab, he disconnected his oxygen tank and moved through the lab space with the tube dangling loose from his nostril. No one was Vlad Masters’ friend. No one cared to stare long at his ugly boil-ridden face. No one stopped him as he hauled sheet metal, and supports, and bolts and wiring and resistors and power tools, checked out with a valid student ID, from the lab. The lab inventory room would not be seeing these back.

It was a prep bunker, buried beneath a vast lot of empty Wisconsin land, that Vlad hauled his materials. He and Jack had discovered it as freshmen. Poked through its bowels with flashlights and quipped and laughed over how eerie it was. Deep beneath the sheetrock, boxy rooms carved out of walls of stone. Shelf upon shelf of dusty canned foods, and shotguns sealed in cases fastened to the walls. The locks had rusted with water damage.

His arms ached until they throbbed, dragging beams of metal across the stone floor, scratching chalk-mark stains into the ground. His skin sloughed, inflamed, burning to the touch. Vlad didn’t bother to rest, because these injuries would never heal anyway. He hauled, and welded, and wired up his circuitry and resistors with a care and caution Jack would never have bothered to practice. He checked it against his math by flashlight. He took naps on the cold stone floor and woke with deep purple bruises on every part of his body that had pressed against the ground.

His appetite left him. His lungs filled with mucus. The boils on his face had spread down to his chest, his shoulders. The touch of his shirt chafed them, so he worked without one, a figure of skeletal rib ridges jutting from tight skin that bloomed with the projection of his shadow against stone walls.

He knew why Jack’s math was wrong.

A silly mistake. A stupid mistake. Anyone with half a mind for the paranormal should have realized the Ghost Zone was not so easily at your beck and call. Not without chumming the water with something it would rise to feast on.

And in that violent death, what would happen to the ghost? It would stay, wouldn’t it? If it successfully anchored the Ghost Zone to the portal it stood inside, then by definition the ghost would stay?

And was that death? Yes, in a way. But it was a death one would get to keep living. As opposed to the death Vlad was headed for, whose coldness and finality scared Vlad more than anything he could put to words.

He’d fixed the oxygen tank back to himself. He couldn’t work without it, hauling it about on a little dolly with him, back and forth, while he fetched and affixed the last of the plating he needed to craft the frame of his silent soulless portal.

He’d stolen a generator from the sports storage shed. It was meant to be enough to power the portable stadium lights they hauled onto the fields for late games, an absolute obelisk meant to cast light across an entire football field.

Surely, it contained enough power to kill one simple human.

Vlad fixed the last bolt in place. Jumper cables clamped generator to portal wiring. It was a pure skeleton. A paltry thing, like the bones of something already picked clean. Built in haste, sloppy, by a 19-year-old whose fingers were too inflamed to clutch a wrench any longer.

He could have asked Jack for help. Maddie. But he wouldn’t let them have this. They had to solve the portal on their own. They didn’t get to know his hard work. They did not get to save him.

Vlad would save himself.

A ghost anchored to a body. What was that? What monster was that?

Vlad moved. He coughed mucus from his lungs. It made it hard to breathe. So he moved slowly, and crouched, bony jutting angles, painted blotchy purple, all bruises and skin, sloughing away.

He crouched, because the portal he’d constructed was not large enough to hold him standing up. He bowed inside it, a small thing, a pathetic man of little life. He wheezed. He hurt. His eyes burned.

And he held in his hands the remote to flip the generator switch, and connect the circuit, and bring to life the math Vlad had so kindly corrected out from under Jack’s grip.

Vlad did not. Because throwing the switch would kill him.

Deep in his animal brain, his dying brain, he knew this intimately. It filled him with a drowning fear like paralysis. He did not want to die.

He would die if he did nothing.

It would be this one throwing of the switch which could save him. Which would burst the portal to life right through his heart. Electrocute it out of its rhythm, slaughter him like a pig on spot and… maybe… hopefully… drag the Ghost Zone here. And whatever he was, dead, would stay.

And whatever he was, dead, would be better than this.

Vlad held the remote in his clammy hands.

And from within the humming skeleton of his portal, his fingers caressed the on button.

…

The portal sung its happy contentment, mused in its healthy green aura, staining all the slabs of rock wall. Danny swiveled his head, recognizing now the bunker this had been before it had been a laboratory.

“I’ve harmed no one, Daniel,” Vlad concluded, his voice too measured for the horrors it had spilled forth. Too calm against the blossoming terror its words had wrought across Danny’s face. “I opened the portal to save myself. You’re lucky, Daniel. It was because of my fast thinking that your father is not a murderer. I took that honor from him.” Vlad’s head tilted to the side, suddenly sympathetic. “Although, you’ve maybe made the title whole for him.”

Vlad reached out, Danny shot away.

“Dad didn’t kill me,” he choked. “I did this to myself.”

“How lucky Jack is, to always dodge responsibility for his actions.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. If you believed me, you’d have to accept you’re not wriggling out of this. There’s no denial you can bring home to your parents. If you believe me, then this is reality.” Vlad smiled, a playful glint to his fangs. “I suppose I should have more sympathy. I quite like being this way. It is so much nicer than wasting away to death, like I was. But you. You were healthy before this. This killed you, and it didn’t save you from anything.” Vlad cocked his head. “Such tragic fates, both of us, due to the carelessness of Jack Fenton.”

Danny shook his head. His heart beat—his human heart beat—all too fast in his throat. It made him sick. It made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. This was Vlad’s doing. Vlad’s trap. Vlad’s prison he’d been forced to join.

"That's not true. I'm not like you."

“Of course not,” Vlad said, sweetly. “How sweet denial is. Deny it if you like. Call me a liar. But if you ever want to come to terms with what your father did to you, consider coming to me. I understand you in a way no one else will.”

Danny gave no response. He gave no acknowledgement of Vlad’s words. He took to the air, phased himself up through the sheetrock that had been packed atop the doomsday prepper bunker. Up through the mansion, which had been built atop the portal beneath it, and not the other way around. Into the open sky, he breathed fresh air not stagnant and damp beneath the ground, bathed in light pure white from the sun and not tainted green like the bowels underneath him.

And he flew back toward the portal that made him, leaving Vlad with the portal from which he’d made himself.

...

(inspiration post from @ciestess)

#sham sacrifice #danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #vlad masters #danny fenton #YELLS AND THROWS THIS AT YOU #ive been spinning around like a top on this idea #tw: suicidal ideation

[sexhaver]

Magic the Gathering rules: a centralized, continually updated document built on a framework established by a math PhD 30 years ago that can be used to resolve literally any situation that could possibly arise, no matter how complex. "reading the card explains the card". literally Turing complete.

Yu-Gi-Oh! rules: a slapdash mess of individual card rulings and functional errata held together by spit, prayers, and bans. Konami didn't invent the concept of "reading the card explains the card" until 2011 with Problem-Solving Card Text and even then it's not 100% consistent. it's frankly a miracle that the game functions at all without exploding and injuring bystanders.

Hearthstone rules: there was a one-week period where having Fandral Staghelm on the board would allow you to cast Dark Wispers targeting yourself instead of a creature, which in addition to summoning 5 1/1 Wisps would also give your hero +5 max health, +5 attack (permanently, even on your opponent's turn, so you damaged any minions that hit your face), and Taunt (so enemy minions were forced to hit your face before hitting any of your minions, effectively making them untargetable). people argued over whether or not this was a glitch until Blizzard quietly patched it out

[thestuffedalligator]

Thinking about the insinuated character progression of Bergholt Stuttley “Bloody Stupid” Johnson, from “He was quite bad at math, so everything he built was either too big, too small, or of such dimensions as to be totally useless,” to “Everything he invented worked, it just never did what he wanted it to do,” to “He once designed a wheel so badly it made the universe turn off and on again.”

Not through wizardry, not through magic, just by his own increasingly and fantastically bloody stupid brain. Gods bless you, Johnson.

#discworld #gnu terry pratchett #bloody stupid johnson

[yelspyder]

˚‧⁺.-"I love you, brother..."

↳ summary: how the atsv characters would be as your big brother/sister

↳ characters: Miles Morales, Miguel O'Hara, Gwen Stacy

↳ Gn! Reader

↳ notes: idk, i just figured this out during my math class and had to write about it. it was a lot of fun writing this and, if everything goes well, I'm going to do a second part with Pavitr, Hobie and maybe even Peter B. Parker.

Miles Morales: the funny big bro

I see Miles as the kind of brother who would always be trying to entertain you. Like, he just got home from school and you're just watching some kid's cartoon on TV? Miles already has 'uno' ready to play. He would always be looking to improve the relationship between the two of you, so he always tries to provide as much fun as possible.

Love problems? Need some tips? He will be by your side in a second, just call him. Miles has absolutely no experience in romance, given how confused he feels himself, but he will be rooting for you the entire time. He could help you buy gifts for your crush and even give you some tips (dubious tips, due to his zero experience, but hey! he tried)

Miles is a very smart kid, too. If you get bad grades or ask for help with your homework/exam, he would be happy to help. It's amazing how he could teach you so easily, it's almost like magic. He would manage to make your study sessions fun and relaxed, and very efficient. He really has a way with kids.

Are you frustrated about something, or do you need someone to vent/cry to? He would 100% be your shoulder to lean on. If you are frustrated because you got poor grades, he would offer to help you study. But, if someone hurt you, Miles would automatically wrap you in a blanket, grab your favorite sweets and snacks, and sit next to you on the couch to watch your favorite movies to take your mind off things.

Miguel O'Hara: the overprotective brother

Miguel probably wouldn't be very present in your life, due to his many responsibilities, but he would make sure to keep you safe. He might not be able to spend a lot of time with you, but he would always listen to your complaints over dinner and make mental notes to work it out later.

You would have to beg him to play with you in case you want to spend time with him. And even then, he would be all the time with an expressionless face and would not know how to play. Poor boy, you'd have to explain the whole game to him, or else he'd just stand there. (he would never admit that he doesn't know how to play a child's game).

If you brought a boyfriend/girlfriend to introduce them, he would always have a threatening face. The moment you turned your back, he would pull you to a corner of the house and have a conversation (more like a threat) about your relationship. If it was a family dinner, Miguel wouldn't remove the threat face and would stare at them the whole time.

He might have a tech outfit and all, but he wouldn't know how to play video games. He would ask questions like: "Why invent such a difficult game? What's the fun in spending so much time on just one level?" "Miguel, this is minecraft. The game is not in levels..."

Gwen Stacy: the cool sis

She would never admit it, but to Gwen, you are the best thing that ever happened to her. She may be constantly switching bands, having no friends, but then she remembers you. You're like Gwen's partner in everything. Cooking, playing, and even doing her homework (you don't do anything, just have a relaxed conversation while she does her homework).

She wouldn't put it into words, but seeing your playful smile after coming home from a stressful day at school makes her so happy. She always tries to play with you in her spare time, and if you know how to ask nicely, she might even teach you to play drums like her!

Did you come in with a few scratches and crying because a kid hit you at school? She will be there the next day with you, and you can be sure that she has persuaded the principal to punish this child correctly and has a "talk" with this child's parents. After that, she would teach you the basics of self-defense and how to avoid these situations.

Gwen may have her anger issues, but she always makes sure not to take it out on you. If she got home frustrated she immediately goes to her room and locks herself up to save you from possible mean words. Now, if you were sad, she would be ready to hit someone, but she would also be a great listener if you wanted to blurt out.

#gwen x reader #spider gwen #into the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miles morales x you #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #gwen stacy #gwen stacy x reader #atsv x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv x you #atsv #atsv miles #atsv gwen

[jasper-pagan-witch]

Library Tips For Magic Practitioners

As a Missouri librarian, I've gotten to know my library district pretty well. So here are some tips for you!

Tip 1: Dewey is your friend.

And by that I mean the Dewey Decimal System (a more in-depth list is in that link) is your friend. It breaks down as follows:

000: General Knowledge (encyclopedias, newspapers, almanacs, etc)

100: Psychology & Philosophy (feelings, logic, friendships, etc)

200: Religions & Mythology (Bible stories, Native American myths, classical mythology, etc)

300: Social Sciences & Folklore (families, career, money, government, etc)

400: Languages (English, Spanish, American Sign Language, grammar, etc)

500: Math & Science (arithmetic, animals, rocks, plants, fossils, etc)

600: Medicine & Technology (inventions, machines, farming, health, etc)

700: Arts & Recreation (crafts, painting, music, games, sports, etc)

800: Literature (poetry, plays, novels from other countries, etc)

900: Geography & History (countries, biographies, etc)

If you're looking for ghosts, divination, and witchcraft specifically, look around 133. That's where I've found most of my magic-based books to borrow. You'll also find books talking about people's near-death experiences or reincarnation around this point.

While fiction technically falls in the 800s, most libraries will have it separate from nonfiction. You may still find things like poems or memoirs in the nonfiction section. Some libraries will have the biographies separated into their own section. A few libraries (at least here in Missouri) will have state-specific sections where you can learn more about local stuff.

Tip 2: There are computers and printers to use.

If you can't research something at home for literally any reason, getting a library card will often grant you access to using the computers and printers in the library.

When using the printer, some libraries will charge based on how much ink you use, other libraries will charge based on how much paper you use, and other libraries will charge based on some other criteria.

Be aware that you lose access to these if you reach a certain level of overdue materials or money is charged to your library card until the materials are returned/paid for or the money is paid off. Luckily, librarians are here to help you and can tell you what's missing.

Tip 3: Libraries have more than books.

Seriously. The main branch of my library district has 3D printers, telescopes, gaming systems to use in-building, and more stuff that I didn't even pay attention to because I was scrambling to learn the behind-the-counter stuff. Feel free to ask us for something and we can see if it's in-county for ya!

Audiobooks are often available on CDs and in the form of Playaways, which are like MP3 players with a single book on them. You will need a wire-connected set of earbuds or a wire-connected headset and batteries. Some libraries sell earbuds, but not batteries.

Large Print books will often have their own special designation as LP, but more often they have their own shelf sections. You'll find a surprising number of Westerns there, but there are Large Print nonfiction books.

Tip 4: Requesting materials.

Not finding something you're looking for? Ask the front desk for help! In Missouri, we have the Missouri Evergreen system, which means we can borrow books from all over the state* on the topic you're looking for.

If we can't find it (or you're in a library that doesn't have such a monumental reach), then you can often fill out a book request form. We will then do our best to order the book for you - but be aware that it could take many months, and most of the time, people will cancel their order of the book well before our budget catches up or we even have time to get the book processed and integrated into the system. Patience is key when ordering a new book.

*At participating branches - not every library district in our state is part of Missouri Evergreen.

Tip 5: Self-checkout is a thing.

At least, it is here in Missouri. If you don't want to interact with the front desk, there are often self-checkout stations for books, DVDs, audiobooks, et cetera. Even my middle-of-nowhere branch has one!

Unfortunately, this won't work for other things, like updating your card once it expires or resolving monetary charges (which will both send you to the front desk).

Tip 6: Search the new shelves.

Some libraries like mine will have specially-designated "New Shelves", where you can find a lot of the most recent releases. If you're trying to find something in a particular number that you saw on the search but can't find it, it may be on the new shelf. These get cycled out whenever new books come in, which may mean that you have several months' worth of new releases to dig through.

In short, I hope this helps you in your search through the library! Best of luck to you!

~Jasper

#jasper post #books #guide #beginner #resource

[the-most-faithful]

James Potter Stans"justifications"

I found this old thread on reddit and it is pure gold. The classic "justifications" used by James Potter Stans.

This isn't really an excuse, it's just admitting that James was an arrogant bully under the guise of "he was a teenager" surprise, Snape was a teenager too.

Oh, that's the point, for all those who keep saying "We don't deny reality" here you go.

James didn't bully Snape, they were just rivals. I'm not good at math, but since when would 2 VS 1 be rivality? Because in the books we know that James and Sirius attacked Snape just out of boredom, where would the rivalry be? Isn't attacking someone by slamming them to the ground, lifting them by the ankle, suffocating them with soap, SA them bullying? Is it simple rivalry? So tell me, what's the other side of the story. Rivality means that they are equals and attack each other equally. When did Snape ever attack, suffocate, curse James? (And no, I haven't forgotten the Prank, but we'll talk about it later)

James didn't change in canon, he got everything he wanted without ever having to apologize, he was popular, on the right side of the war and he got married to the girl he liked, even though he bullied her best friend for years. James continued to attack Snape even in seventh year without telling Lily. But even so, let's pretend that James is really mature, what does this prove? That first he was an arrogant bully, so at least we don't deny this fact, and then at some point he changed, so what? Do the years of bullying disappear? I wouldn't say, going back to clarify that in the books the only change James made was to no longer attack other students, he continued to target Snape behind Lily's back.

Well no, we were told that Snape was prejudiced against muggles (I remind you that his muggle father was violent towards him and his mother) and hung out with people like Avery, Mulciber etc. But it is never said in the books that he used dark magic against Muggle-borns. I can agree with one thing, Snape called muggleborns Mudblood. Everyone except Lily, until The worst memory. But again, what is this supposed to prove? Wasn't Snape a victim of bullying because he used an offensive term? Whatever he did doesn't take away the fact that he was a victim of bullying.

There are so many things wrong here that I don't feel like correcting them all. But the biggest one, The Prank doesn't happen in the seventh year but before the worst memory. We know this from the memories that appear in the seventh book. Lily and Severus still talk to each other, they're still friends. The "James had changed by that point" theory doesn't hold up as a few months later he SA Snape just out of boredom in his worst memory.

In the Prank Sirius tried to kill Snape using Remus as a weapon (nice friend) and James took Snape out at the last minute. Is he a hero for this? He didn't let his best friend kill another person, that's the minimum for being a deceased person. It's like saying that making someone cross the street instead of hitting them with my car makes me a hero. Hell no, I'm just a normal person.

So what have we demonstrated in all this? Was Snape a wonderful person who had no flaws or faults? Absolutely not, but in his school years he was the victim of James and Siurius' bullying. Stop denying canonical reality, stop creating confusion with chronology and inventing facts that never happened.

#professor snape #snape stan army #anti snaters #anti james potter #anti marauders stans #anti sirius black #anti marauders #pro snape #snape slander #james was a bully #james potter never changed #marauders era #marauder were bully

[mochinomnoms]

I was in chem today doing a lab and let me just say that it was harder than what the video my professor showed the class😭 it was suppose to be an easy lab where our end product was gonna be a light pink liquid but my classmates and i would add one drop and it turned a hot pink. it was fine in the end because only like two groups got a light pink color so id say its a success 😃👍

While doing this i just thought of how PTM!yuu is taking potions (which im assuming is basically a chem class) thats above her grade. We love women in STEM!! (this also has me thinking of academia rivals between yuu and one of the twst boys but you didnt hear that from me)

- 🪸 anon

Yes, I gave PTM Yuu a grade up in their potions classes because I believe it would translate pretty easily to cooking and chemistry! I sucked ass in chemistry, though, so don't take my word for it lmao.

In general, Yuu had to catch up with everyone else's schooling in NRC. I imagine that ones that have a Earth equivalent. Like studying history is probably the same, potions=chemistry, math would probably be fairly standard (though that brings up the question on who the TWST equivalent is for inventing different mathematics), human biology is probably the same. P.E. and swimming are probably the same, minus flying, and music and art are the same as long as there is an aspect that doesn't including using magic.

I like to think that since these things were pretty standard on Earth, PTM Yuu did really well in them to make up for Grim's less than ideal grades in the magic based classes. Doing so boosted them up a grade in certain classes!

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #ptm #🪸 anon

[yeowche]

Completely random Ravio headcanons (to heal the soul)

—Ravio and Mural are born in the same year, but their birthdays are on the opposite of each other (exactly six months apart). This means that Mural’s birthday is in May while Ravio’s is in November. (If my math isn’t totally shit)

—Rav isn’t very keen on sharing too many details about his past; Mural still isn’t entirely sure if he really was a traveling merchant before he came to Hyrule, or if that’s just something he made up as a disguise.

—The real answer? Yes and no. He has always been creative and handy, with a knack for making things. Particularly weapons and inventive new gadgets. At a point, he was forced to start selling them to make a living; and though it was never his intentions, he turned out to be a pretty good salesperson. He may not seem like it, but he is indeed very analytical and observant, and uses these skills to persuade customers.

—Sometime before the events of ALBW, he was appointed by princess Hilda to design and create weapons for the royal guard. He eventually became a sort of advisor for the princess, and they formed a rather close bond before Yuga interfered.

—He considers himself a pacifist, though he does carry several weapons on his person at all times… just in case.

—He can be quite paranoid, in several ways… the most obvious one can be traced back to his upbringing in the slums of Lorule, and it speaks for itself. He’s had enough experiences with thugs and other malicious people to always be a little bit on edge whenever he meets a newcomer.

—Whenever Mural goes on a quest or adventure, he makes sure to bring home souvenirs if he can. He knows Rav is fond of exotic jewelry, pottery and all sorts of other artifacts

—I like to think that Hyrule’s cultural traditions are predominantly centered around music, while Lorule’s is focused on paintings and visual art. Hyrulean holidays and rituals are often based on music, song and dance — music is a highly appreciated and common skill, but it is also considered sacred. Meanwhile, Lorule has a rich artistic history, though painting is an activity that few people can afford to do anymore. If anything, it has become an important symbol of status — Lorule Castle is littered with impressive paintings and ornaments.

—All this to explain why Ravio values art as deeply as he does, and why he enjoys painting despite everything Yuga did.

—I know I have written about this before; but Ravio is the one who designed the magical rod that Yuga uses during ALBW — as well as his magical bracelet. It was never intended to be used on humans, though. The intention was to use it on inanimate objects, to store them safely (you can retrieve them at will) and alternatively, to create murals in a far more effective way.

—After ALBW, Lorule’s triforce is restored, but there is still a lot of work left to do to heal the kingdom. While Ravio spends a lot of time in Hyrule, setting up a permanent shop in Mural’s house, he is also dedicated to helping princess Hilda and doing charity work in Lorule.

—Gay:)

#eiochevart ravio #albw ravio #ravio headcanons #albw #loz albw #a link between worlds #loz headcanons #loz hc #ravio #the legend of Zelda #zelda #headcanons

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hi👋That is, in the magical world, the situation is something like this: in the first year, different children come to school, about 11 years old each. Some (Muggle-borns) have a level of education commensurate with their age, and pure-bloods... Maybe they just know how to read and know a little bit of math. Wtf? How can teachers teach them and grade their work?

Well, if you'll remember, in HBP Ron's spelling is shit. Complete shit. He uses Fred and George's spell-checking quill to correct for this but it runs out of juice or something and as a result produces even worse results. Hermione has to correct it.

What I'm getting at is I think children are taught basic education, namely reading and writing and probably very basic arithmetic, at home. They all seem to be able to read and write to some degree upon arriving to Hogwarts and as for math--math doesn't seem to exist in the wizarding world (Arithmancy, for the record, seems to be "the number three is a strong number", it's not exactly algebra). The closest we probably get is Astronomy but... I somehow doubt they're doing actual Astronomy as we understand it in that class. It's unclear what accounting if any is done for businesses or budgets for households or what if any understanding of economics is going on and how much a galleon really is. I don't even know what math they're doing at Gringotts to estimate how much money a person has.

Remember, the wizarding world isn't really a modern western nation despite being in Britain: it skipped out on the Enlightenment and has been its own insular thing for a long time. That shows.

The teachers aren't grading their math because they themselves aren't doing math. As for the spelling/reading/writing, they do seem to have standard spelling probably for the same reason we do (it got a lot better after printing was invented), and I think it's just up to the kids to have been taught at home before Hogwarts or pick it up better when they get there. If the kid hasn't learned by the time they get to Hogwarts they're considered a dumbass, no matter what background they had and the lack of public basic education before Hogwarts.

Notice Hagrid is notoriously bad at spelling. Everything we see him write is grammatically incorrect as well as spelled very wrong even for basic words. This is in part because he probably wasn't taught well at home and never picked it up in Hogwarts.

As for mathematics, I think for your average wizard, the wizarding world at large even, it's not even a concept of something they should consider important or even know about.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #the wizarding world #meta #headcanon #opinion #everythingnot65

[cryptotheism]

Hey I'm trying to make this as genuine as possible: why study magic? I'm not questioning the legitimacy of it, I'm asking what is The Thing of the study of magic. Like math has numbers, I guess? Is it a branch of the study of philosophy, or of religions, or both? Do you study magic writings from the point of view of - what? It sounds really abstract to me. When I try to follow what you write on here it feels like I am peering at a dark tunnel with half an eye closed and thirty shots of vodka in the brain, and I ask myself, "Why does it matter that Bunglo Fundoborgus believes the symbol for the sun must be an X with eleven circles instead of an O with three dots?". I know it does, it relates to historical thinking and religions and I would suppose even folklore, I'm just - having trouble focusing here. Why is there The Study of Magic instead of Magic in The Study of Folklore or Religion or etc? When witchy people go "this rock and this grass will hex my enemies" or "Artemis is soooo mad rn" is it anything like what you study, or does this kind of magic falls under another field of study? Sorry for the word diarrhea, I'm just really confused I guess. Again I am not trying to sealion you here. If that is how it comes off I deeply apologize. Have a nice day.

No no it's a legitimate question!

Bundo Fundoborgus sounds silly right? That's a silly guy who thinks silly stuff.

Well, in real life, you look through Bundo Fundoborgus's wikipedia page, and find a link to the "Fundosborgian Preacher" that was his greatest student.

You click the link, and turns out that Bundo Fundoborgus's Main Student is actually the father of president Harry S. Truman, or some other insanely influential political figure.

These people don't exist in vacuums. Their ideas, no matter how ostensibly strange, have tangible effects on real life that STILL shape the world today, and CONTINUE to shape it.

Here's an example: If you've ever had cereal for breakfast, you can thank Alchemist and medical reformer Philippus Aurelius Theophrastus Bombastus Von Hohenhiem, whose work on anatomy was extremely influential on John Harvey Kellogg, who also invented the chasity cage.

Enjoy western Philosophy? Hegel was influenced by the mystical doctrines of the legendary magician Hermes Trismegistus. Dialecticism itself has its genesis in Hermeticism.