#[ what if it's just something it /could/ aid in doing. not its main purpose-- but one of the things. ]

[rotting-ink]

Mad heir RO’s reactions to an mc that has a habit of just walking around naked?

as a treaT YOU GET OLL TOO, I DID IT ON PURPOSE I PROMMI BRAIN BROKEN

A von Mejer: "Cover up! Other people live with you!" Throws clothes at them and stomps off, deeply flustered. Filled with annoyance, wants to punch them so bad for this but also... Yknow. No. Horrible beast.

C von Mejer: "Ah? We do a bit of this at home. Normally by the seaside. Cover yourself a bit, it's cold here." Gently gives them a shawl, but otherwise doesn't seem all that concerned. Will be when Ivarsson comes home, and will usher them upstairs to get dressed.

J Braitwaite: Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Should be used to this by now. But god, their frayed nerves are going to snap any day now. Going to absent mindedly chide you, its cold out, you'll step on a splinter, your father will see you, etc, but going to more or less ignore it.

Bryn Heron: They are going to be fucking chased off the property by Braithwaite. Going to be looking into the windows whatever chance they have, or smoking under your window, waiting. Likes it. Obviously. Peeking tom.

H Angelov:... Hm. Well, this does endear them to go through with the sale really. Smart too. Their country's weather is all the warmer than... Whatever this is. Good way to acclimatize. Going to raise their glass to you whenever you traipse past them, more entertained than anything. Also nice preview of... Ah. Ahem.

Bonus:

Ivarsson: You are so lucky he has a bad leg. Would chase you upstairs and scold you till the cows came home.

Grandpa: Girl same.

BONUS THAT WAS INTENDED HEHE, NOT A MISTAKE:

(Treating it as if they're wandering around their room/rooms not in main spaces. Tsarina would blast them into space or give them a stern talking to, depending on the MC)

Arkasha: Whoaw. Look, they're used to seeing people naked, most of the servants downstairs share a washroom and most keep their doors open to their bedrooms. Knows a body. What it looks like. But they are always going to be stunned into silence at any naked part of the MC, nevermind ALL of it. Doesn't say anything, just quietly carries on, but they are looking. Intently. Will quietly excuse themself to go back to their room later. Oof. Keep in mind, they have most definitely seen the Servant's body before, but it keeps on enthralling them.

Dasha: Finds it... Strangely cute? Just wandering around their rooms, feeling at ease to go a ambling. Can't help the smile, but would only really make side comments, "Fire too warm? I could just get someone to tend to it." or "Hm. It seems like it is quite... Nippy. Ahem."

Sasha: Oh dear. Will wander over and be unable to cease the pawing. "Is this a trend abroad/downstairs? Keep it just here though." Will most probably join the MC in this, happy to strip down to NEXT to nothing, or nothing at all. Just enjoys watching the MC most of all but some days will pounce on them when the mood strikes.

Priest J: Finds it... Cute. Will gently quiz about it, smile gently but something hungry lingering along their teeth. "Do you enjoy the freedom it brings? Or is it something else? Attention or gratification?" Interested. Does like it when they get to touch the MC in someway, with a hand on their back, MC on their knee, fingers against the neck. Fleeting.

Pavel: Freaks out. Immediately turns out, stiff as a board... In more than one way. Asks them to wear SOMETHING during their chat and then will flee. Is used to nudity, hell, he's been on a battlefield for most of his adult life. But it's different when it's from someone he has.... Tender feelings for? Nope. Does bring with a fur coat to have them wear whenever he comes to talk.

The Aide: Another day in fecking paradise, innit.

[callalillywrites]

Starved for You

Written for @steverogersbingo. D3 - Touch starved.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Steve Rogers Bingo | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 728

Summary: Steve never believed himself to be touch starved. At least until he met you. Then, he became addicted, always wanting more.

Warnings: not much; mostly fluff and self-awareness on Steve's part

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

Steve would never admit that he missed being touched.

He definitely wouldn't admit that he was a little starved for a loving touch or even a simple touch that most would take for granted.

No, he wouldn't.

He wouldn't.

Yet, he really wanted your touch.

No, that wasn't quite right.

He craved your touch.

He found excuses to get your hands on him anyway he could manage it.

This didn't go unnoticed by any of the Avengers, either.

Well, almost any of the Avengers.

You never seemed to notice how much he craved and sought out your touch.

No, you were the sweetest person on this planet, happy to give him whatever he needed without hesitation. It was just your nature to be so tactile with others, and that included one Steve Rogers.

It had all started innocently enough.

He'd been injured during a mission. Nothing major, just a cut along the shoulder and across his cheek.

Thought nothing of it really, too.

Well, he didn't until you spotted him when he entered the common room.

You'd jumped up from where you'd been reading the latest from your favorite author, gasping at the two streaks marring his otherwise unblemished skin.

One of your hands grabbed his chin, tilting his face one way or another. No doubt trying to see the cut on his cheek at every possible angle. The other hand stayed on his uninjured shoulder, keeping him from moving away.

While he could feel the firmness of your grip, you soon surprised him with letting his chin go and running a finger beneath the cut. It'd been such a soft touch that he almost missed it. If not for the way his nerves lit up, he would've.

You refused to let him go, either, until you'd cleaned him up and put bandages, unnecessary as they were, on his cuts.

You insisted on it, moving him backward until his butt landed in one of the bar chairs near Tony's extravagant bar. One finger came into his line of sight as you commanded, "Don't move. I'll be right back with the first aid kit."

He didn't dare move, either.

Maybe he couldn't move.

You'd certainly seemed to paralyze him with a single, simple touch.

The clean up proved easy enough.

Soon enough, he sported two Captain America-themed bandages, leftovers from a kid-friendly event you'd helped to organize, where he'd been cut. They'd be gone by morning as the serum would've done its job by then.

What wouldn't be gone, however, was the way your touch unlocked something within him. Something he hadn't thought he'd missed until you took such sweet care of him. Your gentleness and your warmth infused him in ways that he hadn't felt since before going into the ice. Maybe ever.

He'd decided to ignore it.

He really did try anyway.

The next time you touched him happened at a gala event that Tony insisted they host at the Tower.

Tony himself had shooed Steve towards the dance floor with your hand wrapped up in his. He refused to let Steve leave until he had at least one dance that evening, tired of seeing Steve sitting on the sidelines.

You'd felt right in his arms, too.

That'd been the worst and best parts.

It turned that switch again in his mind. The same one he'd decided to ignore after you patched him up. Made it harder to want to ignore how much you affected him.

Two songs later and he finally let you go.

That had been the hardest part for him.

After that, he couldn't ignore what he needed, what he wanted. He sought you out for every little cut and scrape. You patched him up just like the first time. Your fingers never straying from their gentle purpose until he felt better.

Every time he had a rough day, he'd find you and let you play with his hair.

Oh, that'd been a heaven he hadn't even known he was missing. He'd heard stories from Bucky and a few of the others, but he'd never experienced it until you. After that, he had more 'bad' days just for the excuse of having you twirl his growing locks and scraping his scalp soothingly with your nails.

He had it bad, and he didn't even care.

As long as it was your touch, he'd never care.

[gloomwitchwrites]

An Unexpected Catch: Boromir x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (mdni): physical hurt/comfort, brief suggestive themes

Word Count: 3.1k

While investigating an attack on a Gondorian settlement, Boromir finds himself run through with a sword and tossed into a nearby river. When death seems dangerously near, Boromir’s body washes up to shore, tangled in a fishing net. A young woman living alone finds Boromir and brings him home to care for him. As Boromir physically heals, he finds that his heart is also missing something important.

Chapter One // Chapter Three

ao3 // main masterlist // an unexpected catch masterlist

A worry settles in.

It bites—burns like a sharp winter wind.

There is a stranger in your home. There is an unknown man asleep in your father’s bed.

You wring your hands in front of you, feeling nothing but dry skin and a throbbing ache in your fingers. There is no simplicity in the situation, no straightforward solution. You are a woman alone with a strange man under your roof. Injury aside, you do not know if he is friend or foe. There are whispers of a growing shadow—of a coming darkness. Your father’s letters mentioned it though you’ve seen no signs yourself.

Until now.

Until this man arrived tangled and injured in your fishing net.

For all you know, there might be others searching for him. They could be enemy to him but ally to you. They could be the opposite. Even with this possibility, you will not cast him out of your home. This man—this person—is in need. You’ve never turned someone away simply because you feared an uncertain future.

“You can do this,” you murmur, head tilted back as you speak toward the ceiling. “You can do this.”

These words are a prayer, one you repeat until a resolve begins to take shape and fill your mind with purpose. You are a woman alone, but you are not fragile.

Your legs move, heading outside to grab wood from the woodpile. It takes several trips but you fill the iron crate just inside the door. Selecting several pieces, you add them to the fire in your father’s bedroom. The hearth in here is much smaller than the one in the communal area. Its only purpose is to keep the space warm. Sparks fly and bark cracks as the embers ignite upon the newly added wood. You rub the dirt on your hands away with your apron, deciding to cleanse them when they still appear smudged. Once clean, you grab several blankets, folding them neatly, and placing them near the hearth to warm.

Turning, you gaze upon this stranger, simply watching him for a minute. He appears calm, showing no clear signs of distress. Sighing, you pray to the gods to lend their favor. If your father were here, he’d know what to do. Alone, you’re simply floating, knowing that all you can do is your best.

Grabbing a cook pot, you hang it over the fire in the main room. You add a bit of fresh butter, chopped veggies, and chicken. Topping it off with water, you place the lid on top, leaving it to simmer. A kettle is placed over the fire for tea. You work efficiently but calmly, keeping one eye on the stranger the whole time.

Stitching the wound is paramount—and from your years tending to others, you know of a paste that can be used to speed the healing process and ward off infection. But you cannot do much of anything until the wound and surrounding area are clean. Hygiene is important—this you know from tending to wounded soldiers, but food and tea are just as important to aide in what has been lost.

You rub at your temples, a dull ache setting in.

It’s not exactly what you want to do—bathing a stranger.

Grabbing the shears from your sewing box, you set to work. Taking the top blanket off the pile, you bring it with you to the side of the bed where the stranger slumbers. Placing it and the shears down, you go back for a wood stool. It is better to sit and work then to stand or squat. Your lower back will thank you later.

The first cut you make is to the tunic he wears. You start at the cuff, cutting up to the elbow. From there, you turn, sectioning off that portion, discarding it on the stone floor next to you. There is a paleness to his skin that discomforts you, as if his warmth and life is slowly retreating. You’ll need to work quickly.

You keep cutting, removing the entire sleeve of the tunic. Moving the stool to the other side of the bed, you repeat the process. With both sleeves gone, you’re left with the remaining tunic and plain trousers. If the man were more alert you could have him help in the removal of his clothes. Instead, you’re making do with what you can handle.

A few more cuts and the rest of the tunic is at your feet, leaving the man’s entire upper body bare. Modesty demands that you cover him, but modesty comes second when an injury is involved. With the tunic gone, you’re able to see the wound more clearly. Fortunately, it’s clean. No jagged edges or shredded skin. It is slightly red, almost pinkish around the wound itself. An infection could be setting in, and if that’s the case, it’ll be harder to treat. You gently press around the wound, keeping your hand flat. The skin isn’t unnaturally warm, in fact, it’s on the cooler side, and the skin isn’t raised or puffy. Perhaps there is no oncoming infection.

A blessing, if true.

Shifting on the stool, your gaze along his body, pausing where bare skin gives away to fabric. The tunic might be gone and the wound easily accessible, but there are still his trousers to remove. For all you know, he’s not injured beneath them, but you couldn’t know for sure. And even if he’s not injured, it’s not good for him to stay in wet clothes, especially clothes soaked in river water. Leaving him in them could lead to other nasty issues.

No. Better to remove the damn thing.

You work carefully but quickly, shearing through one side of the trouser leg, starting at the ankle and ending at the waist. The same is repeated on the other side, and you slowly peel back the material. The fabric is damp, the river water leaving flecks of riverbed sediment on his skin. Grabbing the warm blanket, you shake it out, discreetly covering his groin as you pull away the last of the shredded fabric. It is discarded on the floor. A task for later.

Heading for the hearth, you grab the remaining blankets. Gently, you unfold them, laying them out over his body, covering all of him except his head. When the kettle whistles, you remove it, setting it aside to calm before pouring it into the proper vessel. While the tea steeps, you add the new pot with water over the fire, intent on warming it up to bathe him. Once hot, you scoop out what you need, bringing it with you to the bedside with a cloth.

A weariness is creeping in, settling in your bones. Tiredness, maybe. Exhaustion. You’re determined to do this, yet your body seeks rest. Dipping the cloth into the warm water, you bring it to the stranger’s face, cleansing his skin along the hairline. His nose twitches as you drag the cloth along the side of his face, focusing on his cheeks and jaw. As you travel to his neck, the man groans, the muscles there pulse slightly, a frown forming on his lips. Pausing, you draw back, watching with anticipation.

His head turns, but he does not wake. Does not stir.

You return to your work, drawing the blanket down enough to reveal his upper chest. You take care to tuck the blanket under his torso to reveal one arm. Dipping the towel back into the warm water, you start rubbing down his arm, making your way from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers.

You’re so focused on your task that you don’t hear the murmur—don’t see his eyelids flutter.

“I’ve seen your face. The angel from before.”

The husky, masculine voice startles you so severely you nearly topple off the stool. Your head snaps up, locking gazes with the stranger, eyelids heavy-lidded. You clutch his hand, the damp cloth resting against his skin but unmoving.

“I—I found you in my fishing net,” you stammer.

His fingers twitch, brushing against your skin. His muscled chest expands. Deflates. There’s no gasping for air or underlying wateriness to his breathing. It’s a bit shallow for your liking but it is strong. Healthy.

“You rescued me.”

It’s not a question. He is placing his life in your hands.

“I did,” you affirm, a bit of heat creeping up the back of your neck.

It’s a silly sensation, and you silently chastise yourself for even entertaining the flustered beat inside your chest. This is a stranger. You don’t even know his name. There is no logical reason for you to feel anything but concern.”

The corner of his lips pulls up into a smile. It’s a lovely sight.

“And now I’m under your care,” he murmurs.

You quickly glance away, unable to look at him any longer. The heat at the back of your neck is creeping outwards to your face. “You are,” you agree, dipping the cloth back into the water.”

The stranger sighs, sounding tired. “This simply isn’t real.”

You clean some dirt from under a fingernail. “What isn’t real?” you ask.

“You,” he answers. “You’re…glowing.”

“Do you think me a spirit?” you laugh softly, turning his hand over so that his palm faces upward.

“Is this not heaven? Am I not in the halls of my ancestors?”

You shake your head, scrubbing gently to remove the riverbed sentiment that sticks to the creases in his skin. “No. You are very much alive.”

He heaves a heavy sigh, eyelids fluttering slightly. “Then it is your kindness that has spared me.”

“Yes,” you answer. “I suppose you’re correct.”

Releasing his hand, you gently return his arm to the bed. The water in your bowl has grown cold. Wringing out the towel, you open the window and dump the cold water onto the ground.

As you return to the hearth to refill your bowl, the stranger’s voice drifts to you in a husky murmur. “Your name, angel.”

You give it, ladling hot water into your bowl. The stranger sighs as if your name is sweet to him.

“Boromir,” he says as you return to your stool. “My name is Boromir.”

The name is familiar, but you can’t entirely place it. Like a thread pulled taut, it tugs on your memory, insisting. You shift through what you know, try to locate where you’ve heard that name before. It alludes you, slipping away like smoke on the wind.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you murmur, returning to your task.

“Only a pleasure?” he teases, that smile returning.

You cannot help but smile. “It appears you haven’t lost your senses.”

Boromir’s smile widens, his eyelids closing as he inhales deeply. You switch to his other side, untucking his arm from beneath the blanket.

“What do you remember?” you ask, glancing up at him.

Boromir remains silent. He’s drifted off—fallen into sleep.

In the quiet, you attend to him, bathing the rest of his upper body and legs. The wound is last, and with this you take great care, but you do not stitch it. Boromir needs to be awake and aware. The last thing you want is for him to jerk awake in the middle of it and ruin the stitch. It could cause tearing around the wound—even bleeding.

Minutes pass. Then hours. You pour tea and sit by his bedside. In the darkened room, you drift off, not knowing that you’ve done so until you hear your name.

Boromir leans on his forearm. He’s more alert than before, clear determination in his gaze.

“You’re awake,” you breathe.

“And you drifted off,” he smiles.

“Apologies,” you mumble, smoothing your dress and apron as you stand. Walking over to the hearth, you check the soup. “Hungry?” you ask, peering over your shoulder at him.

“Starving,” he replies.

Grabbing two bowls and spoons, you fill them. The buttery aroma drifts up to invade your nostrils, making your own stomach twist in hunger, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since early this morning.

Boromir takes the bowl greedily, settling back against the pillows. He winces a bit but otherwise appears fine. It’s a good sign. Means the healing process will be quicker.

“How is it?” you ask as Boromir slurps down some broth.

“Amazing,” he sighs.

You beam under the praise. The blankets covering him have fallen around his hips, revealing the entire upper half of his body. Every muscle and scar is on full display. You discreetly keep your gaze averting, looking everywhere except that sea of muscle. It makes no sense to why the sight of him stirs you like this. You’ve seen many male chests. Why is this different?

“Do you feel up for a bath?” you ask bringing a bit of broth to your lips.

Boromir licks his lips. “A real one?”

“Yes,” you laugh. “I’ll need to heat water over the fire for it.”

“That isn’t necessary,” he insists.

“I’d rather you bathe properly rather than running a damp cloth over your skin.”

His smile becomes a sultry smirk. “And what if I liked you taking care of me in that way?”

Oh.

The heat comes rushing forward quickly, seizing your senses. A wave of dizziness hits you, and you press your hand to your cheek, glancing down at your bowl, not trusting your facial expression.

“Boromir,” you breathe.

“My apologies,” he says quickly. You peek up from between your eyelashes, noticing how the tops of his cheek turn a bit pink. “Sometimes I fail to hold my tongue when a beautiful woman is nearby.”

The words leave your mouth without thought. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Boromir’s cheeks go from a gentle pink to a bright red. “My forwardness was unintended. I—” He swallows. “I am in your debt.”

You bring the bowl to your lips, drinking up the last bit of broth in the bowl. “Would you like more?” you ask, diverting the conversation.

“Please.”

Boromir accepts another bowl and consumes it quickly. The fact that he’s keeping it down is a good sign.

“How did this happen?” you ask, gesturing at the wound. “It’s clean. No jagged edges.”

Boromir grimaces. “I was run through.”

“Run through?” Your voice cracks slightly. “With what?”

“A sword,” he answers. “Corsairs ambushed my men and I. They emptied an entire village up the river. Put it to torch.”

“That’s horrible.” You swallow; hands clasped in your lap. “What happened to the people?”

Boromir frowns. “Captured or dead.” He sighs heavily as if trying to expel a lofty burden. “We arrived too late.”

“You cannot blame yourself,” you reply softly, grasping his hand. “There is nothing you could have done to save those people.”

“It is still painful. Like a broken off arrow embedded in my chest.”

Your brow softens. “Grief should be embraced. But we also should not dwell. It can linger. Sicken us.”

Boromir glances at you, and there is deep pain there, something beyond the simple loss of life. “I know the burden of grief all too well.”

Part of you would like to ask more questions, to help him understand and process whatever it is he’s feeling. But you also know that his physical health is of greater importance in this moment.

“Still interested in a bath?”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “That would be lovely.”

You match his smile, taking his empty bowl. “I’ll put some water on for it. You’ll have to rouse yourself from bed.”

“In that, I may need your assistance.”

“Give me but a moment.”

Grabbing buckets of water from the well outside, you line them up next to the fire, adding half to the large pot to bring the temperature up. You drag the wooden wash basin into the communal area near the hearth. Water is added. Whisps of steam rise toward the ceiling.

“Ready?” you ask, stepping up to Boromir’s bedside.

Boromir shifts in the bed, pushing himself up to a more seated position. The corners of his mouth turn downward as he scoots to the edge of the bed. A strangled breath leaves him, a small shiver accompanying it.

“Are you in pain?”

“A little,” he gasps.

“Only a little?”

Boromir masks his discomfort with an easy smile. “I have you.”

“Yes,” you agree. “But we don’t want to injure you further.”

He sighs, settling on the very edge of the bed, his feet flat on the floor. The blanket his draped over his groin but the rest of him is completely bare. Can you hold on to him and the blanket at the same time? Hopefully.

Sinking down onto the bed beside him, you tuck your arm across his back, fisting the blanket.

“Put your arm over my shoulders,” you instruct. Boromir does so. “On three, we’ll stand together. One. Two. Three.”

With a loud, groan and a clenched jaw, Boromir stands with you. Your gaze drops to the wound. A bit of blood blooms but it’s hardly noticeable. Without thought, your gaze shifts, and then abruptly draws upward. You may be clutching the blanket, but it is doing nothing to cover his manhood.

Don’t look, you think to yourself. Don’t look.

“Are we to walk far?” he asks. Already, beads of sweat bloom on his brow. Simply standing is taking great effort.

“Not far,” you reassure.

Step by step, the two of you move out of your father’s bedroom and into the communal area. Leaning on you, Boromir shifts one leg over the side of the tub, submerging it into the water. Another shift, and then your hands are beneath his armpits, assisting in easing him into the hot water.

Boromir’s sigh isn’t laced with pain. It’s blissful. Honey-drenched.

“How’s the temperature?” you ask.

“Perfect.”

As Boromir reclines, you grab a brush, soap, and a clean cloth. “I’ve brought these.” You offer them.

Boromir pops open one eye. “Am I to scrub myself?”

“You—what?” you stammer, suddenly flustered.

That easy smile returns, and you must turn away. “I need to strip the bed. Replace the sheets.”

Boromir hums with understanding. “I can manage.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” you tease, smiling at him over your shoulder.

Lifting the soap and cloth, Boromir grins at you. His good humor is a hopeful sign. Instead of answering, you head into your father’s bedroom, stripping the bed. It’s stained from the river water, but a good scrub will rid the sheets of the stains. You dump them to the side, retrieving new bedding.

Once finished, you enter back into the communal area. Boromir has his head tipped back, resting against the edge of the tub. You observe him for a moment, appreciating his presence. He has shown himself kind, if a bit forward. You cannot call it affection, but it is pleasant all the same.

As you turn away, intending to give him some privacy, you hear your name. Glancing over your shoulder, you find Boromir peering at you through heavy-lidded lashes.

“Stay,” he murmurs.

[reisspecialcorner]

Sorry if this seems rude, I'm simply uneducated on the subject

I'm a DID system and have a theory on endogenic systems, which you seem to either be or know quite a bit about

Please tell me if there are any aspects of this you might agree/disagree on

(pls say if you agree/disagree, I'm not trying to invalidate or anything it's just a theory 😅)

Soo my current theory is that tulpas, willogenics and any kind of 'created' system are some form of maladaptive daydreaming

So, maladaptive daydreaming is a disorder (currently not medically recognised last time I checked) where one has a complex world in their head that they are actively making, imagining, with characters, a plot/plots etc. it impairs the ability to function because beings with the disorder want to always daydream/may act out the daydreams

So what if 'created systems' was a form of maladaptive daydreaming where instead of daydreaming and the plot/world, the main focus is the CHARACTERS

So consciously or subconsciously the maladaptive daydreamer or 'created system' 'switches' into the different characters and the characters all have their own identity and the 'core' of the 'created system' consciously or subconsciously acts like the characters made, thus thinking that they are multiple/plural

Idk I get the feeling I might be onto something, but who knows

Might just be my yapyapyapyapyapative AHH spitting utter nonsense

PLEASE TELL ME YOUR OPINION ON THIS IM NOT TRYING TO BE RUDE ITS A GENUINE THEORY IM NOT BEING HATEFUL IM SORRY IF I CAME ACROSS THAT WAY :[

-R

no, you dont sound hateful, and this may be controversial but in some cases, and without other coping mechanisms for stressful situations, this could be the case in some instances

i dont think this applies to all created systems obv but i do agree you may be onto something, that in some cases esp in cases where systems are created on purpose as a coping mechanism. not all systems but i do think many who identify as having intentionally fostered the creation of a system likely did so as a means of companionship, stress relief, or aid in daily activites. and like all things, that can become maladaptive. the key is that maladaptive daydreaming is inherantly HARMFUL, so this only applies if their systemhood becomes a detriment to their life.

in my opinion, it could be possible for someone to develop a system as a result of maladaptive daydreaming, and also for the maladaptive daydreaming to BE the systemhood/members if that makes sense. Caused by the thing (and still present once the daydreaming subsides) versus being a part of the thing (and going away once the daydreaming is treated)

DISCLAIMER, however, i want to emphasize that you not fall into the trap of trying to go for people and specifically suggest that they might be a maladaptive daydreamer. that just seems all too similar to going into someones acc and saying "youre delusional" and feels hurtful and devalidating to many. this information is useful, but it is not your place to claim that specific systems are experiencing this, unless they say so publicly themselves first.

rei isnt fronting right now so apologies if i sound a little different, but i havent opened tumblr in a hot second and this has been marinating in the askbox for a while so im just going to answer it (also!! i see you are anon and i do not want to blast you publicly if you dont want to bc this community can be hateful at times, but if youre comfy, dm me!! You seem like a very interesting person to talk to or at least follow, i wanna know who you are 🙏)

[monkee-mobile]

I watched 33 1/3 Revolutions Per Monkee a few days ago and the Goldilocks Sometime scene made me think of you. I was wondering what your thoughts are on that scene and how Davy is portrayed in the special overall.

Also I know a lot of people don’t but I liked the special. What it said about the Monkees as a group and as individuals and their place in pop culture was interesting.

that’s funny that you thought of me with goldilocks 😭 i’m kind of flattered because that is totally who i am. But yeah, I am a big fan of 33 1/3 even with all its psychedelic nonsense and extreme weirdness. i like it actually a smidge better than Head just because i watched it first and its more silly goofy nonsense with far out colors (though i can’t sit through a lot of it) and its the thing i watched when i was first into the monkees that made me go “oh holy shit they’re more than just a cutesy kids show”. could never watch it with another person though lol. but the “diagnosis” songs are the best part in my opinion, other than maybe like all the musical guests but i do think listen to the band goes on for a bit too long despite how cool it is for like fats domino to be there and stuff… but anyway ! david !

I also think it’s really interesting how the special totally bounces off of Head and those ideas that they had been musing on for a while and developing since the later episodes of the show. I also am a big fan of the fact that since this special was what made peter buy out his contract and get the hell out before the whole outfit sunk into inevitable advertising hell (though i do think those kool aid and nerf ball ads are far out but ill talk about micky being meta and monkees as living cartoons or something some other time to avoid rambling a ton), peter got to kinda blow up the world/the monkees after california here it comes. very fitting and telling and i dig that cause that was not planned but it’s well deserved. poor peter in the 70s though.

ANYWAY ! DAVID !

i guess my thoughts on davy in the special are mostly centered on goldilocks as a song since outside of that the monkees tend to function as a unit or are kind of backgrounded. there is string for my kite, but i think that’s more just a general davy song/an expression of the desperation that’s conveyed in other stuff they did, like, of course, head, but if anyone has more thoughts on a string for my kite i’d be interested to hear. i take it as the “i wanna be free” of the special i guess. the davy yearning song. but in terms of the “diagnosis” songs, that’s really what we get of individual expressions of the monkees as characters in the special. in the commentary micky jokingly said they were the guest starts of their own special and i think that’s very true. it almost felt like it was a show about brian auger and julie driscoll’s characters and darwin and stuff and the monkees served nearly the same purpose as fats domino and little richard and jerry lee lewis did outside of being the main “monkeys” used for the “brainwashing”. idk.

but for davy’s song, my thoughts are kind of simple. of course at almost the end of goldilocks before all the dolls dance around a bit more the “diagnosis’s” are put as such: fixation (micky), withdrawal (peter), schizophrenia (mike… or mikeS I guess since there’s both tv man and rock and roll versions in naked persimmon), and regression (davy). the song is basically about someone playing with relationships like toys, leaving before things get too deep to avoid the more harsh emotions (which could paint an interesting reading of tv davy’s habit of chasing a new girl every week). There’s themes of not wanting to grow up and face the “harsh realities” of the real world and adult life maybe (and looking at this song alongside daddy’s song may be something interesting but i dont think i can do that well right now without just pulling the obvious out of my ass). That’s my reading of the song as a whole.

I know I always toddlerify davy because he’s a little guy and i hate him (*micky voice* joke mike! joke!) but i promise it’s founded in reason and one of the main reasons is this special because…. well i mean……… they stuck him in a little sailor outfit and had him dance around with a bunch of toys… the whole weird thing about davy even in the show and in head and 33 1/3 is that he’s both infantilized AND sexualized (he’s so transmasc coded) but that’s also a conversation for another time i think. the “diagnosis” for his song is also “regression”, which i feel like is supposed to be taken as age regression with the aspects of not growing up and coping with reality through younger mannerisms/habits, probably to avoid being hurt by strong emotions and attachments to another person which could go wrong. davy in the song is ignoring maturity and commitment to avoid having to face hard truths and feeling hurt. like the “if im the one who leaves i dont have to feel left alone” mentality.

i guess one random things is i can’t figure out if davy is supposed to be another doll (the one ken among a bunch of barbie’s i guess then lol) or the kid who’s playing with the dolls. based on my personal reading of the song he is the kid playing with the different girls like toys. to bring back micky in the commentary track, he makes a joke that “davy always wanted to be a small little toy” which one, micky ! 👀 (i know he was being kind of sarcastic but still) so there’s that reading that he’s the doll itself.

he IS the same size as the dolls, but i took that as more metaphorical because one, they have to hire human actors obviously and two, the dolls are representative of real girls someone is “playing with” like toys. even if he is the kid in this situation it’s still representative of the same thing be him the object being played with to act out the scene or the person playing themself, idk if that makes sense.

if he IS the kid though and that is his room davys not just like a five year old he’s probably a little guy, just based on the high chair and stuff. that doesn’t mean anything really, in meta i guess he’s just regressing really far to avoid all responsibility or something, but it just makes me go awww little guyyyy !!!!! scooping him uppp !!!!

okay, that’s the extent of my thoughts on the subject, i’m sorry if half of this doesn’t make much sense but thank you for the ask !!!!!!!

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 7 (2/3)

Latopolis

My Pullcaster helped a great deal in navigating the flooded ruins, climbing cracked pillars to reach the higher levels of still-intact floors.

Plenty of data left lying around, and plenty of messages from Tavis Tate. As much as I'd rather listen to literally any other Alpha, his work let me see some of Hades' original programming for myself, and he'd spent time uncovering the shady business that Faro and his corporation got up to here before handing over the place to Zero Dawn.

Something called the 'Moldova Brain Hack', most notably. Seems like it was a way to hijack people's Focuses, but further information was corrupted. I wonder if it was similar to what Hades did to my Focus outside the hatch? Faro's guys tried to scrape the place clean before Travis came along, but he dug up their old data anyway. I guess you can afford to be that much of a self-absorbed asshole when you're a veritable genius. Huh, reminds me of someone.

Further on, I recovered an old holographic surveillance log showing Travis and Elisabet just as Travis was preparing his logic bomb gotcha for Far Zenith.

Based on the entrance logs, Hank Shaw frequented this facility as Travis' second in command. It must have been here that Travis discovered Hank's betrayal. Travis was excited about his little prank, trying to get Elisabet's attention, but she was stoic, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics in their high stakes situation. I wonder if she wanted to punish Far Zenith for what they tried to do as well. It's clear that she disapproved of their philosophy, being reluctant to hand over Apollo in the first place, but did she really want to deliberately sabotage their project?

Travis said something to her about loving the world but none of its people. Called her a paragon, a saint; friendless. I remembered what Charles said about her in her obituary: "No-one could keep up with you. Live up to you." Called her dazzling, bruising.

I know she was lonely in those final months, presiding over Zero Dawn, with Gaia as her main source of company, but I know she wasn't friendless. What about all those people who came to her aid when she launched project Zero Dawn? She was surrounded by a team of dedicated people who looked up to her, and that was just in those final months. She made Gaia to save everyone—she loved everyone, and Gaia did too.

Sylens felt the need to butt in. The path of the exceptional is walked in solitude, or something. Just because you're a loner, Sylens, doesn't mean Elisabet was too. Not that he comes even a measure toward her greatness. He doesn't know her.

It's been a long time since I've found a hologram of Elisabet. I wish there were more.

Pressing on; yet more climbing, a little salvage left in the upper alcoves of the facility. Inside one of the old labs, I found another recording from Travis, this one logged a day before his conversation with Elisabet. In it, he confronted Hank with knowledge of his betrayal, first luring the rat into an isolated chamber to be blasted with deafening waves of sound. Some sort of testing chamber for digital interference patterns, re-purposed for human torture. Sheer ingenuity, Travis. I wonder how Elisabet felt about that.

The traitor lived, though it can't have been for long. Not even Zero Dawn's uncooperative candidates were kept alive beyond the project's completion.

Hank deserved it, of course. Back then, Travis didn't even know how true that was. Without Hank, Faro never could have purged Apollo and all other backups of Gaia.

More of the same as I traversed further. Close to the second gene-locked hatch, I found something. Not a hologram, but I cherished it anyway, just hearing Elisabet's voice. She was arguing with a woman called Tilda, some Far Zenith functionary, in the aftermath of Travis' fake Gaia logic bomb attack. Elisabet wanted to withhold the alpha build of the Apollo database, given Far Zenith had tried to steal Gaia herself, dishonouring their deal. Far Zenith's ectogenic chambers had already been handed over, so Elisabet had what she needed.

Tilda spoke to Elisabet with a certain...informality I wouldn't have expected. I certainly didn't expect to hear any Far Zenith representative beg Elisabet for her cooperation. She appealed to Elisabet's morality as well, claiming no knowledge of Hank Shaw and to share her fear of an ignorant future where humanity was doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past.

Elisabet acquiesced. The exchange was to go ahead, but this marked the end of all communications between Zero Dawn and Far Zenith...at least until the destruction of their shuttle. At the time of this recording, Tilda said Far Zenith were still scrambling to recover vital systems in time for launch. I guess they didn't scramble hard enough.

With the way Elisabet whispered to herself after cutting off her call with Tilda, who seemed eager to continue their discussion, I got the impression that she was no mere corporate spokesperson, not to Elisabet. There was a personal connection there, one which Elisabet had to sever before the end.

That didn't make much sense to me. In all of Elisabet's journals, she displayed nothing but disdain for Far Zenith, and dealt with them only out of necessity for Zero Dawn's success. Why was she friends with one of their people?

Winding my way back out to the main chamber, I finally made it to the second gene-locked hatch and entered the main lab. The device in the centre was imposing—latched to the walls and ceiling by flexible cabling, limbs stretched wide as if on a torture rack. Its upper component looked like a face, open-mouthed, eyes pierced...What was it with Faro and making his machines look as terrifying as possible?

It was called the Recluse Spider, the simulation engine used to pit iterations of Gaia against Hades throughout their parallel development.

All of the Hades backups were already destroyed, thankfully. Although not corrupted with consciousness like their final iteration, I didn't plan on including an extinction failsafe in Gaia's repair. There's no need for it anymore.

At first as I searched through Gaia's data rack, all the copies I found were corrupted, empty—could Sylens have been mistaken? I started to panic until I found, not one, but two intact backups. I let my relief get the better of me, until Sylens pointed out the deep flaw in both. 98.42% free memory space, and a similar measure on the other.

No subfunctions. All nine were empty, leaving only Gaia's core intelligence—a powerful mind capable of emotional reasoning, but without her subordinates she was without a body, without senses. I had no way to communicate with her, or her me, and she could not exert control over the Earth without her technical capabilities. In this form, Gaia was useless.

Sylens wasted no time in telling me so, as if I didn't realise exactly what this meant. But I wasn't so ready to give up. As Sylens lamented the hopelessness of our situation, I went searching through the lab's databases and network connections. Even if these subfunctions were lost, there were still versions of them out there—scattered, unpredictable, and corrupted by the mysterious signal, but they existed. If I could find a way to excise the signal's malicious code, return them to their original state...I still had a chance of repairing Gaia, just as she wished.

The facility still had limited networking capabilities. Using them, I was able to locate just one of those lost subordinate functions, and perhaps the most crucial. Minerva, who gave Gaia her communications and code-breaking capabilities, cracking the Swarm's deactivation codes and readying the world for new life. With Minerva, Gaia would be able to set up a network of her own, communicate with me through my Focus, and through other machines. She could scan the surrounding area for other subfunctions, and hack their defences.

I could speak to her.

Minerva was close, laying in the mountains that bordered Tenakth lands. All of the functions had to be somewhat close to Gaia Prime, just like Hades. It was doable. There was a way.

Sylens seemed reluctant to accept my plan. He admitted it might be possible, but there was no telling whether all the subfunctions were even intact, let alone whether it was possible to return them to their original programming. But I'm going to try, and stop at nothing until it's accomplished. I don't need Sylens on board. I'll do it alone if I have to, just as planned.

But of course, he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't just let me do my job without complicating my quest with rebel armies, and now, a trap sprung. The filthy liar; I'll kill him. I promised him so.

The lab console announced an unauthorised presence in the outer facility. I heard blasting, collapsing metal, an approaching force. I never did see the first hatch close behind me—with all that Firegleam jamming the mechanism, maybe it couldn't. Sylens remained calm when he explained his deception; easy for him, in holographic form. I'm sure that, to him, my threats felt distant.

He told me that the intruders were no friends to him; they were unaware of his presence, but he'd lured them here with a signal pulse indicating that a Gaia backup could be found at this location. He said that their goals were aligned with mine, that they wanted to repair Gaia and heal the world, and they were powerful. Very powerful.

He said they wouldn't hurt me. They needed me for the same reason Sylens had used me all this time, because I'm a clone of Elisabet Sobeck. They can't accomplish their mission without a key to access Zero Dawn. What the fuck is he playing at, luring me into the clutches of these people? This is my mission. This is Elisabet's legacy, and I don't care who these people are or how powerful they may be, they are not the arbiters of this world's future. I am.

I couldn't listen to Sylens anymore, claiming he was trying to help me by delivering me to these intruders like a bargaining chip. I tore off my Focus and crushed it underfoot, hooking a fresh device to my temple, backed up with all my data but as yet unexposed to Sylens' spyware.

I thought I had time to plan my escape. There was only one entrance and exit: the gene-locked hatch, restricted exclusively for Elisabet Sobeck's genetic code. No one but me could open that door, no matter their power.

The lower levels of the lab were flooded, just like the outer facility. Possible exits through holes worn into the lower floor's ceiling by water damage—through to corridors leading back to the main facility? Maybe I could get out and sneak by the intruders as they searched, find out who they were. I'd need to take the second Gaia backup with me as well, to keep them from taking it for themselves.

Before I could put my plan into action, I heard movement behind the hatch. I heard the beginning of a familiar announcement confirming the genetic identity of Elisabet Sobeck through the identi-scan at the entrance. The door shuddered and began to sweep aside. I barely had enough time to run and hide, sliding behind the empty data rack that once held backups of Hades, before the hatch opened, and the intruders were revealed.

The first thing I saw were two large, fluid shapes slip through the opening, crawling up across the far wall before twisting around and coming to stand on either side of the pathway. Their sounds were alien; the bubbling of fluid, deep, deformed rubber noises, metal chatters. Four silhouettes stood between them. Upon orders, one stepped forward, walking toward the Recluse Spider.

Up until then, I'd hoped the intruders had found some way to hack the identi-scan, but of course, Zero Dawn's security was absolute. Of course this was the only way.

I watched a clone of Elisabet Sobeck walk toward the Recluse Spider console, short-haired, all in white. A smooth, seamless material, like the clothes of the Old Ones.

She looked around my age, from what I could see. She walked slowly, timidly; I could see in her gait and build that she lacked strength. Her expression was vacant, wary, as she approached the rack of Gaia backups. I didn't have time to take the second backup before the hatch opened. And Sylens thought that these intruders needed me to get them to Gaia and her subfunctions. They already have what they need. Did they make her?

What do they want with Gaia?

The clone retrieved the remaining Gaia backup, holding it up to her companions in silence when they asked if she'd found what they came for.

As the clone went to return to the entrance, another barked order made her pause, head bowed, then turn and walk back to the console to check whether the signal pulse originated here. Again, slow, tense, almost aimless. Why didn't she speak?

She worked the console with speed, clearly experienced with such interfaces, then she stopped, whispered something to herself. Another order from behind made her jump. Her companions grew impatient.

She turned back to the console, now panicked. She must have found the activity logs showing my presence, that someone else had entered the lab mere minutes ago. That's when I realised I wasn't getting out of this without a confrontation. It was only a matter of time.

[qingyingpocketlirary]

A Loong History Lesson 1

This is a post that has Key information for my Snaphots and Tea Collection serises and also for information inportent to the back story for The Spider Web Story.

It also contains some HEAD CANNONS. Please take note they are head cannon's not Orginal to the Book JTTW or considered Cannon to the Lego Monkie Kid fandom while reading. Thank you!

A Loong History Lesson 1.

We’ll start with a very important detail about the Dragons.

In these series and in the story, I am taking real life information and tweaking it just a little, both to fit what the show has already established and for my own liking too.

There are Five main Dragons, a father and four sons.

Qinglong - The Azure Dragon - Central

Ao Shun - Black Dragons - North

Ao Qin - Red/Yellow Dragons - South

Ao Guang - White Dragons - East

Ao Ji - Green Dragons - West

The story of the Dragons, in relation to my stories is as follows;

Before humanity was established, Qinglong alone ruled the seas, maintaining and protecting the still new and frightened humans from the wrath of the war still about between the Heavenly Gods and Young Immortals, against the Underworld and the Demons who refused to bow down to Heaven’s imposed ruling.

He was not cruel, but he was also not kind, if one sought his aid, they would offer him something equal to his aid in return, be that an offering of service, of coin or something else, he did not care. 

For a long time, it was this way.

Until the day Qinglong encountered two beings he had never met before. A pair of primates, one with fur of dull red, with a short temper yet, both chaos and order at his feet, the other with fur of shining platinum, long arms and at his fingertips, order and chaos, danced freely. They were sitting atop a snow kissed mountain, sharing a plate of fruit cuts and cooked meat.

The Azure Dragon questioned their purpose, and was told that they were waiting. For what? The birth of another like them. It was a long time to wait, and the two had waited a long time already, but it was important to them and so, they would wait. He asked why they waited, and they explained that waiting was all they could do. If they tried to act, to hasten the arrival of this other in any way, it could very well shatter the delicate peace and stability of the world.

Qinglong asked how, and was told; In nature there are places and groups for everyone, and everything. But for us, there are only us and no others. We are Born of both the maddening mayhem of Chaos, and the calming harmony of Order. We are a family unto ourselves, and to others? We are proof that balance need not be so black and white, good and evil, light and dark. Would not the Heavens, who claim to help and serve Order, fear us their foes if we acted to bring our third into being in this time of conflict? Would not the Underworld, who seek to contain and control what little of the Chaos they have managed to trap here, claim us a greater threat for seeking the company that would come in its own time?

The Azure Dragon thought on this and questioned why there needed to be a third, if the two current are content to wait and was asked in turn; Do you not seek company? A person or persons to converse with? To share ideas and debates with? A friend to share the joys of the ever changing world with? A child to teach his immense knowledge so that he might pass on his greatness some day?

Qinglong had not known how to answer this, for he had until then, always been content to be alone. To this, the long armed one had said it seemed a very hard and lonely task.

Some time after this meeting, the world began to tear and rip apart as the Pillar of Heaven was shattered by an unknown force. The humans were wiped out as the world was savaged by disasters of nature, Chaos and Order were at unrest and even with all the might of Demons and Gods, Heaven and the Underworld, the outlook was grim, against a foe that seemed to shift and change to match every move with one of equal or greater power. Until Qinglong, the two Celestial Primates and a nameless God entered the fray, and after a violent conflict that lasted five days, the foe was beaten back and Nuwa was able to fix the Pillar of Heaven.

The injuries from that final conflict scared horridly, and were unable to be masked beneath the magic of a  glamor, as such it was impossible to hide or deny who had been involved in the fight.

During the rebuilding efforts, Qinglong decided to ensure his power would survive to aid the world, should it be needed again. He did not wish to burden others with such a request, not after so much loss and destruction, and so, he traveled into the western waters and took four jugs of water from a river he had gifted to the Kingdom of women, and then, he returned to the very center of the Oceans of the World.

By the time the World was once again settled and beginning to heal, four Dragon Kings established their rule.

The King of the North, Ao Shun, whose scales were black as coal. The King of the South, Ao Qin, with scales of brilliant crimson and yellow. The King of the East, Ao Guang, whose scales were white as snow. And the King of the West, Ao Ji, with scales as green as an emerald, and to each of his four sons, Qinglong gave a tiny fragment of his own power, allowing the four to wield one of Four elements. 

Ao Shun, oldest and strongest of the four, took the element of ice as his own, and with it, swore no threat would claim victory over him nor his domain. Ao Qin, seeking to thrill and excitement, took the element of air, and promised only to unleash its truest might upon foes and dangers to his domain. Ao Guang had, at first, wanted fire as his element, but the element would not yield to him and so to him came the element of water. He swore he would do what was best with it. And to Ao Ji, youngest and most curious of the four, came the element of fire, and while Ao Ji had no true desire to wield the flames, and had hoped for a gentler element, he swore he would use the flame to protect and guard his people from danger.

The Dragons settled into their place, resting comfortably in their place as Kings, above mortals but beneath the Immortals, a sovereign power the humans could worship but not a higher authority of the Heavens. And for many years, things were peaceful, until Ao Guang grew resentful and craved more than he was allotted. 

Enter Nezha, I may turn what comes next into a story, I may not but for the sake of this history lesson, here are the Key notes.

Nezha is ‘born’ after an unnaturally long pregnancy as a flesh egg. The reason for this is explained when Taiyi Zhenren visits and tells Nezha’s mother that Nezha is a gift to her from the Heavenly Queen Mother, and only with a mother’s love can the flesh egg open to release the babe within.

Li Jing is at first overjoyed at the birth of another son, but this does not last long as Nezha is clearly his mother’s child, and prefers her company over his. He is also unhappy that Nezha will not be trained by him, but by Master Taiyi Zhenren when he is older.

Ao Bing (Ao Guang’s third son) meets Nezha and other children of the town by the river and the two become friends.

During a small feast to celebrate a noble man’s birthday, Ao Guang and his older two sons (need names for them) attack the town and injure Nezha’s mother and Nezha calls them all cowards for attacking a lady. Insulted by the words of a child, they demanded the boy be punished for his insolence.

Ao Qin and Ao Ji, who had attended the party in disguise, step in and see their brother and nephews off swiftly, praising Nezha for his bravery to defend his mother before they too leave.

Li Jing and Nezha argue and Nezha leaves the Li Household angry. He meets Ao Bing at night and the two talk.

Ao Guang, angered by the insult of Nezha still, arranges to speak with Li Jing over tea. They meet alone.

Basically Ao Guang makes Li Jing an offer. By sunrise, Li Jing must offer up his own life in payment for his town’s safety. The lives of six of the town’s children. Or Nezha’s.

Nezha returns home and overhears an argument between his mother and father, and blames himself. When Li Jing curses and denounces him, Nezha leaves.

Ao Guang takes Ao Bing with him to find out the result of the offer.

Nezha refuses to let his friends be taken, leading to a fight between Ao Bing and Nezha, because Ao Guang demands blood in payment for this second insult.

Ao Bing lets Nezha win. Nezha kills himself to stop Ao Guang taking further action for his actions.

Before Ao Guang can retaliate by desecrating Nezha’s body as a trophy, Ao Shun, Ao Qin and Ao Ji arrive with Taiyi Zhenren and the three other Kings drag Ao Guang away while Taiyi Zhenren takes Nezha and Ao Bing’s bodies with him.

Ao Guang is brought before Qinglong, and as punishment for all his crimes, Qinglong strips him of his element and his two remaining sons were stripped of their scales. Further, Ao Guang and his entire family were enchanted, only able to leave the water for short times, as to linger out of the  water would cause their scales to molt and their body to wither with age. This enchantment would only be removed when all his brothers and his father agree that Ao Guang has earnt forgiveness and the right to regain control over his domain again. 

Ao Bing, revived with the help of Taiyi Zhenren after Nezha, rules the Eastern Sea in his father’s stead, but the two do not speak to one another.

Ao Bing and Nezha know that the other is alive again, but they have not spoken since their fight, Nezha is ashamed to face the Dragon and Ao Bing feels he has lost the right to seek Nezha out for not doing more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s it for now, I’ll add more History posts when I have them written out.

[edandstede]

i think canon izzy is an interesting character who is played very well but every day i’m SO FUCKING GLAD his arc came to its natural end and he died because all his fucked up racist fans have shown their entire arses with their behaviour. now what i REALLY hate is how almost ALL the conversation post s2 is around this one white dude - people doing insane mental gymnastics to minimise his actions and explain why he was actually right for abusing ed or why he didn’t actually do anything wrong and why ed is really the toxic violent one making izzy his victim and i am not even TOUCHING that backwards meta claiming stuff i couldn’t even dream up while high. something about jesus and aids? yeah because that makes sense you insensitive out-of-touch dickheads.

seriously if you hate the show now then prove it and shut the fuck up, move on, it clearly was never for you if you can misinterpret it this badly on purpose. the izzy you’re a fan of doesn’t fucking exist, you made him up in your heads and got mad when the canon character didn’t fit your woobified poor meow meow version. you wanted izzy to be a victim so fucking badly and he just isn’t. he is NOT. he repeatedly threatened and goaded and emotionally manipulated the main character - an openly gay indigenous brown man who expressed his emotions and wore effeminate clothing, who was actively depressed and suicidal - and he fucked around and found out as a result. he had ed released to him like his fucking property by the english after almost having the man ed loved executed in front of him and you think ed is the antagonist here? you think ed is wrong for reaching his breaking point and lashing out exactly how izzy repeatedly begs him to? he wanted blackbeard and he fucking got it.

anyway like FUCK ME there is a whole cast of excellent and interesting characters who don’t get talked about nearly as much, ESPECIALLY characters like jim and olu, roach and zheng, spanish jackie, hell ED HIMSELF. they’re sidelined by fandom racists constantly to make room for this one dude who was an out and out homophobic racist bully and dick for 90% of the show.

stop pissing your pants for 5 seconds and accept izzy (a side character there to accompany ed’s arc) was a canon antagonist with internalised issues who dealt ed (one of two main characters) a LOT of damage, but ultimately actively tried to change and embrace the crew and their ways on the revenge. he found his place in that family, that is a GOOD THING, and he died having found a peace most pirates like him don’t ever get to have. yes, ed lashed out and hurt him, and it was a direct consequence of the violence izzy THREATENED OUT OF HIM. izzy himself acknowledges his part in ed’s pain at the end, so you can too! how about that? if you can’t wrap your head around these very easy to understand plot points then just fuck off at this point y’know? literally just fuck off and find a different show because clearly the canon story of this one isn’t for you.

you cunts are fucking insufferable and have made this character one i don’t wanna touch at all, any post about him just makes me recoil because some fans just could not be normal about him.

now can we get some quality posts about literally anyone else

[kheprriverse]

Forgeconcept for the WIP ask game, please?

This one... maaaaannn Im still figuring out if this is going to be included in my au. But I like the imagery it creates + it's Ko'jin related so its already cool.

*Side note that I decided to combine this with "Forged2" from the ask game as well and just make it one post.

Image under the cut, but be aware there's images of blood and character death.

I mentioned in my last ask that Ko'jin is a jack-of-all-trades character, because he is! A lot of his younger years was spent in his lonesome, in the woods, surviving on basically anything he could find. He had a lot of time to himself where he could learn a lot of skills in hopes of earning money for food. A lot of it included stealing at first, then to stealing for others, then to taking bounties, then to crafting and forging. he ended up discovering a passion in sword-smithing and is even the one who originally forged his helix blade, a weapon he believes is his magnum opus (and continues to believe this).

This image though, and the whole idea, was made to put that to the test and also ask what his purpose for joining the main group. Was it really solely for paying back Ballad's previous aid to him? or was it for something else and what is that something else?

It's a bit loaded but can be explained a little further by one of the other things in the ask game since I don't wanna ramble too much. But my answer with this idea would be "to forge a new weapon" kind of like an ultimate weapon literally meant to do one task and forged by the bones, and blood, of other gods. Demise, in ko'jin's past, was an earth god, one of the oldest in hyrule even, who houses a LOT of power; "the spark of life" even which is still stored in his bones long after his death.

The deity featured in the image is Demise. And the sword's sole purpose is to slay him before the events of skyward sword. Its.. weird time-travelling shenanigans meant to sorta show why/how the Demise Ko'jin knows is different than the Demise SS Link knows.

Anyways sorry this was a lot lmao. I can talk about this for hours i think. I have so many Ko'jin related ideas x'D

There's also this image that's related to all this, showing Ko'jin and the sword. I shared a wip of it in january and just never shared the finished product xD

[emathyst9]

One person wanted to see it so here you go OC world building in your face that started out as a Twitter thread but I decided to paraphrase and add onto what I typed instead of just copying it

So those magic stone things that Alyx and Lina and all of their siblings have, they're more than just what gives them their powers, and for a while I haven't really known what to do with them, but I think I might have an idea now

So they're called Spirit stones, but really, that name makes no sense with the bits and pieces of world structure I have

The main cast for that is rainbow color themed, so I thought, why not call them something like Hues or Hue Stones that embody a Color, since it might be better to actually do something with the importance of color instead of just having the characters be color themed because I have no other ideas

Without giving too much away, each Hue Stone represents a Color that can be traced to the primordial magic of the world, like colors of light reflected through a prism

The way the Hues embody their Color, is that they grant the holder their abilities, so it can give them elemental abilities

But the Colors aren't just powers, they're also virtues and ideals, they're meant to guide humanity, so they help strengthen the things that make people human

So the holder of the Hue will best represent the traits of its virtue

The Hues also can be used as more than just an aid to those chosen or best suited few, they have the ability to bless or curse, the blessing being part of their original intent

Through the proper incantation, the Hue can bless its target, imbuing them with their Color

As I said, the Colors are powers and virtues, so the blessing can imbue its target with whatever powers and virtues it represents

Take for example, the Red Hue, Alyx's stone

That could be used to bless someone with his ability to manipulate the earth

But it could also imbue the target with strength, bringing out that ideal within them

Or the Fire stone, the Orange Hue

Its blessing could envelop something with fire, or allow a person to strike a flame with their hands, or ignite (hehe see what I did there) their innate bravery or perseverance (I'm not really decided on the ideal for that one if you can't tell)

Of course, there is an evil force in the story that needs working out, the stones are able to be manipulated through a person's will, and it is good will that will activate their Blessings

But if they project malicious intent through it, it taints the Color, making a Hue into a Stain

Stains can be used to curse the target, seemingly blessing them with an unlimited ability and elemental power, but if used too much, it can get out of control and cause physical damage to the user or target, hence why it's a Curse

The Stain still represents the ideal, but in this state, it's more like a concept, being the inverted version of whatever ideal it's supposed to have

So if a villain were to get their hands on one of the Hue Stones, take the Fire/Orange Hue for example, and misuse the incantation to invert the Blessing, their target would receive blazing fire that could destroy everything if used too long

And the Bravery or Perseverance it embodied before would become more like Fear, projecting that on its target

Of course, the Curse was never part of the original purpose of the Hues, but moreso invented by those who were not supposed to have the stones

Really these are just ideas but it's far more than where I got with it before so thank you if you read through all that

[iappearmissing]

BRUCE WAYNE, AKA, THE BATMAN : PKMN VERSE.

even in the world of pokemon, tragedy is not something it escapes. young bruce wayne suffers an identical fate to his gotham counterpart in the region of unova, where his parents were shot and killed in the city of castelia. to this day, detectives do not know what motivated the killing. was it a robbery, trying to fleece the waynes of their wealth? had they accidentally stepped into local gang activity, caught in the crossfire?

the only one who could say, young bruce wayne, was unable to do so--left mute from the trauma, the vision of his mother's blood-soaked pearls rolling across the dirty alley haunting him.

with time and patience, bruce wayne, while never telling the public why his parents suffered such a terrible fate, blossomed into a successful young businessman. the wayne family name only flourished with bruce at the helm of their business, seeing to a global expansion that would have the wayne name known in almost every region.

in secret, he trained and conditioned himself for another purpose--the elimination of crime in castelia and unova at large. his parents' death had impacted him so greatly as he felt it was his fault, for they had been in that crime-ridden alleyway because of him wanting to take an alternative route to their car after a movie. a would-be robber who fled the scene had been the cause of their deaths, fueled by desperation and a systemic failing in unova to support its impoverished.

assigned to this self-decided duty of protecting unova and changing the world for the better, bruce protects his city when night falls under the guise of batman, and is aided by pokemon he acquired in his six-year globe-trotting journey to learn all he needed to know to be the finest vigilante castelia city has seen.

quick notes:

bruce's age can range in this verse as it does in his main! he can be fresh into his vigilantism in his early twenties, or be an old hand in his fifties. he can be slotted into any point in the pkmn timeline (nonexistent as it is lol) at any age. time is fake and i do what i want.

wayne enterprises in this verse dabbles in quite literally everything, just as it does in dc canon. from pokemon food, to smart phones, to camping equipment, to trainer items, they are a massive conglomerate of many different businesses. they are located in almost every region, giving bruce an excuse to travel.

his gliscor was his first pokemon as a little gligar. gliscor and the terror it brings to people due to its frightening appearance in this verse was the inspiration for his identity as batman. he admires how gliscor is terrifying in appearance, but truly has a gentle nature, always having been kind and careful with him since he was a child.

his pokemon all participate in his vigilante activities and are treated like extensions of himself. besides his family butler, alfred, they are the only beings in this world he trusts with his life.

he 100% has broken plasma grunt bones.

[anotherhumanpet]

The Realm Strider’s Curse: A Summary || Mobile

So what is the curse?

To answer in an in-character way, the curse is a strange phenomena that seems to be spontaneously hurtling Dennis across the multiverse. To what end or for what purpose remains unclear though because there isn’t any sort of puppet master pulling on any strings. There is only Dennis, and maybe the occasional companion he accidentally brings with him.

To answer in an out-of-character way, the curse is my personal writing excuse to have the main version of Dennis be open for interactions across the multiverse. So it doesn’t matter if your character hails from a completely different timeline, universe, media series, what have you; Dennis has the means of popping up in your character’s setting and to do his Dennis thing while he’s around.

How does the curse work?

In order to understand the mechanics of the curse you have to understand Transformers lore, and sometimes the lore can get a bit convoluted - especially when you consider how old the series is, how many times it has been (re)written, and how every writer approaches the series with their own interpretations in mind because everyone is right and no one is ever wrong.

With that being said, I’m going to present the necessary lore as neutrally as possible. Then, I’m going to explain my interpretation on it to help explain Dennis’ curse.

First, there is a relic known as the Matrix of Leadership. Typically, the Matrix is used to upgrade a mech with god-like powers while also granting them the title of Prime. How these powers will work varies from one series to the next, but the Matrix has a way of elevating whoever carries it above the rest of the cast. The title of Prime is also considered a very honorable title, and is typically highly respected by transformer society. Sometimes, mecha will change their entire name to something more befitting their Prime status, but this is not always the case.

For Dennis’ universe specifically, one of the things that the Matrix can do is grant its bearers a direct connection to the Primes of the past - better known as the Thirteen. They are the first transformers to be created by the likes of Primus, the transformer god of order, and they held the most god-like powers because of their direct lineage to Primus. As the thirteen died off, their consciousnesses meld with the Matrix, thus allowing future bearers of the Matrix to commune with the thirteen for whatever purpose or needs they had.

For my writing purposes, another power boon the Matrix grants is the ability to tap into the god-like abilities that the thirteen had. This is an unreliable boon as it is very hard to tap into, especially if the Prime used a relic or tool to exert their power, but it is something that can be done by those capable of figuring out the process.

Now, one of the thirteen was known as Vector Prime, and his specialty laid solely in space and time.

See where I’m going with this now?

So how does this relate back to Dennis?

In Dennis’ lore (which is essentially altered/canon divergent TF:P lore), there was a period of time where Optimus got very hurt, was laying half dead in a cave, and his only company during his seemingly final moments were Dennis and Smokescreen.

While Smokescreen was popping in and out of the cave to steal supplies and survey the situation outside, Dennis kept watch over Optimus and just simply hoped for the best because he didn’t know what else he could do at the time. The situation seemed bleak, he didn’t have any useful skills or knowledge that could aid Optimus, and he was deeply fond of the mech so staring at his corpse-like-state was more than a bit traumatizing for him.

Then, Optimus’ chest cavity opened up and the Matrix began to shine brilliantly from within him because it was desperately calling out for someone else to pick up its mantle while the current host was dying. There was no one to answer the call though. There was only Dennis, who panic-climbed his way up onto Optimus’ chest and pleadingly yelled at the Prime to wake up, all while pushing against Optimus’ chest panels in a desperate attempt to close them.

Dennis’ near proximity to a panicking and spiritually flailing Matrix would wind up infusing him with energy that is akin to Vector Prime, thus granting him minor power over space and time.

The problem is the kid doesn’t realize this. Nobody does.

And so now, Dennis just hops wildly around the multiverse, equally frightened and frustrated by his ability.

[storiesofsung]

Why I like TWST - pt1 (rant)

Slight spoilers for book 7

Twst is the best otome not otome games I’ve played for far and while I haven’t played all in existence, I played a decent amount of them

It solely lies in the fact that while it may be baity at times (Malleus I’m looking at you) it doesn’t need to rely on romance and cheap gags to keep the player (who is probably there for that exact reason) engaged…since it was marketed at just that.

There’s nothing wrong with the game, in fact if you like it go for it. The problem is the game can sometimes get too wrapped up in the fact that it must have pretty men (I’m only speaking for the “fem directed otomes” because those are the ones I’ve played) that it looses the little boldness/any at all that dares to break the norm of what is beautiful or acceptable to make for an interesting game/story.

I’m gonna shit on obeys me’s later writing because as I’ve said before in this post, it has so much potential. But it abandons all else for cheap scenarios where the demons don’t even act like demons.

Anyways maybe that’s just my criticism with obey me or ygs could relate to another otome that the devs ruined for the sake of random fluff.

I like TWST so much because in its essence it’s exactly the opposite of what I described—not an otome. It doesn’t give a shit if the player (or simp, jk) gets butthurt if it’s set up in the narrative for this certain character not to be entirely head over heels for the MC.

Sure the plot isn’t perfect (I’m looking at u book 4) but think of it this way.. most players who are at least up to date use their knowledge of the canon plot to weave the story into their fanart/fanfiction. The plot is integral for the viewer to actually be invested and it is interesting and relevant enough that people actually use it when enjoying the game.

I’m gonna bet you the average player doesn’t know what’s going on in OM! past ch 50. Or maybe you do but I haven’t seen a lot of posts referencing anything plot wise past 20. (Except for the new characters) it’s because it’s simply not interesting enough to be pain attention to. (Maybe I’m being too harsh but this is my experience)

Criticism

I think one of my only criticisms about TWST is about the MC (in game) I like the direction they go in the manga but in game they’re kinda meh. Now I know they do fulfill their purpose and TWST isn’t that kinda game (you need to insert yourself) but I feel that giving the MC a personality or at least a backstory (ish) would be better since that is what they did in the manga

Idk self insert MCs can be fun (don’t get me wrong I love em) but personally I feel that the MC should be given an explanation as to why they are like that. Why are they a beast tamer?, what do they feel in being in a school with otherworldly subjects?, how do they cope with living in a Rickety environment? What are some clues about their backstory /what they remember before coming to TWST that could aid in buildup for when ortho (bless his soul) finds a possible answer to how we ended up here?

Also this is my oc/what I believe to be interesting but I found it interesting as to what living as a girl in a school full of boys can affect the MC. I don’t believe this part should be implemented in the main thing because there are a bunch of wonderful male MCs, but it is something I would want to explore.

—I’ll make a separate post for this

[tiredassmage]

7, 8, & 24 for tyr because i am incredibly predictable

skfnlskf but you're loved xD (enabler)

[SWTOR OC Questions]

7. What else about their appearance (e.g. hairstyle, body shape) isn't shown in-game?

Primarily his few implants from service in Imperial Intelligence, but some scarring’s missing as well.

Tyr’s primarily a product of training more than modification and enhancement programs out of Imperial Intelligence, but his implants originally installed by Watcher X on Nar Shadaa during his tenure as Cipher Nine have been maintained and modified by multiple parties over the years, at this point. While initially employed with a more singular purpose, Imperial Intelligence studied and expanded Watcher X’s work during Nine’s routine physical exams to adapt into a more robust vital signs monitoring system primarily, of course, to aid Tyr in his field work, but arguably also to have a better monitor on one of their top agents. Most of this tech isn’t visible, located subdermally, save for a rounded triangular silver outline between his shoulder blades on his back that’s generally a maintenance point. Care, updates, and further modifications to these systems has sinced passed primarily into the care of Doctors Lokin and Oggurobb in the Alliance, particularly in concerns following the Commander’s carbonite poisoning. Lokin is generally who Tyr trusts first and foremost with any details and work on the implants. Some of it is… certainly a bit more experimental - and wasn’t it always? But at least Lokin he has a working history with as his medical officer. He’s not entirely sorry, Oggurobb.

More than likely, the upkeep over the year has resulted in some minor scarring across primarily the back of his left shoulder. It’s one of the few that Tyr has consented to have scar removal treatments performed on, if only to aid in the ongoing healing and maintainence required.

Other than that, Tyr’s multiple encounters with Force users over the years have left their marks. The run-in with Arcann on Asylum left a particularly noticeable one on his left side that Tyr adamantly refused to have treated beyond its natural process of healing. The feathering of effects from Force Lightning primarily encountered in efforts against Darth Jadus early in his Intelligence career have largely faded over time, but still leave a few barely-evident lightning patterns across tanned skin you’d only really get to know if you spent time with him in private - probably most noticeable along his left collarbone. Given how many years he’s spent fighting at this point, it won’t surprise me if he has way more than I have currently figured out, but these are the two primary things that come to mind.

8. Is their voice different to the character in-game, and if so, how?

Tyr is blessed with being my main and primary agent who came together specifically to be Cipher Nine, so what he’s got in-game is all him, baby! If there is anything to say that doesn’t necessarily reflect in-game, it’s that I imagine part of Tyr’s training is some language studies - probably primarily Huttese is a language he has a functional grasp on without the assistance of translator modules.

24. If they could have a stronghold on any world, where would it be, how large would it be, & what would the architecture be like?

Honestly? Something a fair bit smaller while still maintaining more of a house-feel than an apartment or flat would be his ideal. Practically in gameplay terms, I barely know what to do with all of the space for anything more than like, the fleet strongholds, and in-character, Tyr just… does not have the time or energy to keep up with a particularly large living space and he is not likely to be crashing with enough other people to split the load for something like the Alderaan estate no matter how pretty that planet is, lol.

Probably most ideal would be something on Odessen, tbh. I think that’s ultimately where he’d like to settle, even though he would like to step away from being Alliance Commander… some day. He’s enamored with how the sunsets feel on the planet, the golden hues coloring the trees, how the night sky looks, etc. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but it’s really… the one physical, unmoving location that he really does call home. And a lot of that is heavily reliant upon what the Alliance’s time there symbolizes for him, but the Odessen climate certainly isn’t docking points, either.

As you may have guessed, architecture and house planning aren’t things I’d consider strong points, personally, lol, but an ideal world might give Tyr a decently sized kitchen with plenty of counter space and enough room to comfortably move maybe two people around. An island might be nice. He’s still nothing of a master chef, exactly, but it’s hard to beat the simple joy of sharing a kitchen with a loved one and he’d like to think he’s at least passable in cooking his fair share. Something maybe a bit more distanced from the strong, sharp structural themes of Imperial architecture, maybe something a bit more inclusive of more natural materials. Something… far less dramatic in scale and more… personal, quiet. The Voss are onto something with their softer lighting. He’d honestly probably still not mind settling somewhere in the Alderaani woods and mountains for the views, but the grand swoop and scale of Alderaaanian architecture is a bit more of a statement than he’d really need or want. The views are just hard to argue with, though.

Oh, outdoor space would be nice though. Tyr would absolutely land the starship on the back lawn [my kingdom for the starship hook]. And considering my recently developed interest in him learning bladesmithing as a "retirement" activity, he needs enough space to build a forge. xD

[thatgreyjedi]

You know what I’ve been thinking about lately? I might be late jumping on this, but it’s related to the Barbie movie.

First off, the movie was a 10/10, I loved it and feel like the different messages throughout the story has something that everyone can relate to, regardless of beliefs. However, one thing, or rather song that I’ve been revisiting and really thinking about is What Was I Made For? by Billie Eilish.

Here are the lyrics for it (courtesy of Google)

I used to float, now I just fall down

I used to know but I'm not sure now

What I was made for

What was I made for?

Takin' a drive, I was an ideal

Looked so alive, turns out I'm not real

Just something you paid for

What was I made for?

'Cause I, I

I don't know how to feel

But I wanna try

I don't know how to feel

But someday, I might

Someday, I might

When did it end? All the enjoyment

I'm sad again, don't tell my boyfriend

It's not what he's made for

What was I made for?

'Cause I, 'cause I

I don't know how to feel

But I wanna try

I don't know how to feel

But someday I might

Someday I might

Think I forgot how to be happy

Something I'm not, but something I can be

Something I wait for

Something I'm made for

Something I'm made for

Sure, the song is related to how Barbie struggles with adjusting to the real world after her and Ken leave Barbieland and she experiences what many of us feel or go through in life. However, since my main content is Star Wars, I put a different meaning behind the song. In that sense, I connected to the clones.

As the Clone Wars goes on, the clones begin to question their purpose after the war is over. They were bred to do one thing and one thing only: Serve and Protect the Republic against the Separatist forces. They were created for war and designed to fight. There wasn’t any plan for them after the war concluded. Also, it wasn’t like they had a say in any laws regarding their citizenship either as they couldn’t hold public office and they had very little say in their rights overall. It wasn’t like life was going to be any easier for them after the war as shown in pieces of Star Wars media over the past couple of years. It wasn’t like anyone wanted them to exist, but they were created anyway for the Republic for the Republic after someone paid for their creation.

There are a multitude of examples of clones coming to this realization. For Commander Mayday (introduced in the Second Season of The Bad Batch), he and his men served the Republic dutifully, yet were completely thrown away as soon as the Empire came through to replace the Republic. The Empire was just hoping the clones under Mayday’s command would just give up and retire, but the clones couldn’t. They had nothing waiting for them after the war. All they knew was fighting. All Mayday and his crew could do was serve the Empire in the best way they could and protect its stability. They had nothing else to fight for except aid the replacement of the Republic so they wouldn’t have to consider life after. To quote Mayday, “After all the clones have done… all we sacrificed. We're good soldiers. We followed orders. And for what?” He came to the realization that the Empire never cared about their lives or how they were lost, but could never leave the fighting for the Empire because nothing awaited him.

This song can be analyzed in many different ways and connected to other characters, but this is how I made a connection between a song from the Barbie movie and Star Wars.

This is why I love music so much, especially pieces that can speak to you on a personal level or help make connections. Music is a powerful way to get across a message to others or leave it up for interpretation.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

Let me know if you like these kinds of analyses because I enjoy making them!

[gabagoogus]

Moi stoopid magic system

Magic, power systems, techniques, I personally find it the best part of an anime or book. Seeing all of the complex interactions is crazy. My magic system is called 

DIVINUM AUXILIUM

Of course, in universe, it goes by many names, such as Blessings, Divine Intervention, or simply, a Divine fortune or any other synonym. At its core, it is the act of a being from a higher plane granting boons or power to a being from a lower plane. This could be a god giving powers to a human, or even a vengeful spirit assisting a being with a similar goal. By definition, all power users in the verse fall under the classification of a “Warlock”, but it's not just guys in robes spamming eldritch blast, as it can vary greatly depending on the blesser and the user. The main granters of boons are as followed

- what would be considered a “god”. Most gods in the verse are more so personifications of a concept or universal law, apart from the original one, known simply as Yggdrasil, who upon spontaneous existence through fluctuating virtual particles, proceeded to personify the core concepts of physics and the world. Some notable gods include Aevum, goddess of time, and Vis, god of entropy and energy. This duo were the first beings created after Yggdrasil.

-Spirits. Anything from vengeful spirits not ready to rest, to spirits of powerful people persisting after death, to long lost guardians who have lost all trace of their time as a mortal. Any being with enough willpower can come back as a spirit to aid- or hinder- those still bound to the mortal coil.

- Fae. Fae are mysterious beings that travel between the branches of Yggdrasil and hop between planes. Most who know of them think they are all annoying and mischievous, but wise ones know that only the assholes actually show themselves to common folk. They give them a bad name. While not as powerful as gods, Fae give the most unique abilities to their hosts.

While there are some exceptions, these are the main granters of power. 

Inorder to obtain these powers from above, one must first die- or almost die. Being on the edge of death is like balancing a lightswitch. One slight nudge and you either live or lights out. This time is perfect for a deity to grant boons as you are as far into the higher realms as possible without passing through, so the connection is at its strongest. Keep in mind that only those with the highest “fate weight” are chosen. This value is either from what you're destined to do to the world as of now, or what you can possibly do if granted powers. This is like a betting game for the deities as they can only have one avatar at a time, so they must consider who to bless.

 If you are lucky, instead of dying, you will have a hazy and blurry dream of a silhouette of the deity coming up to you bringing you back to life. Once awakened, the avatar will have nothing but a vague memory of the situation, the basics on how to use their new powers, and an undying and deadly sense of motivation for something. That thing? Well, it's different for everyone. Some have a clear understanding of purpose, while others just get on with an “it is what it is” and the vague knowledge of whatever they do, they will achieve something.

Now you may ask, how do these powers work? Well it's simple… I'm just kidding, it's not simple at all. Divine aid is different for everyone, as every deity is different. You'll almost never get powers directly associated with your deity, but instead something adjacent to it, which you will soon learn was actually your deities power all along, just manifested in a different way. Example: Aevum’s avatar didn’t get time powers right away, instead he got ice powers, which was secretly just him slowing down time on atoms to subtract heat (as an atoms speed=heat), creating ice.

In Order to use any of your granted boons, you need what's known as primordial soup. After a blessing, an avatar starts to naturally collect primordial soup, and it is stored within the brain. Primordial soup is produced by beings known as sprites. Tiny spirits the size of a hamster that sit at the roots of Yggdrasil and feed off of it. They sit on the same plane as human souls, which is why it's easy for humans to gather it, although only avatars can actually gather enough for it to be useful. This is thanks to a strange region of the brain that grows after becoming an avatar known as the Phasma. This chunk of brain actually sits within the soul plane and attracts sprites. Primordial soup is this bright blue neon sludge that is full of universal energy. Even the gods need it to survive. It allows an avatar to have a clear connection to their deity, and henceforth draw from their power. It basically makes you have better spirit internet to facetime your deity, with your Phasma being the router.

 The two types of sprite are Magiums and Phages. Magiums are fat and round and give a decent and long stream of soup to the gatherer, letting them use their powers for a long time, but Phages are long and jagged. They quickly inject a ton of soup into the avatar and allow for quick and powerful bursts of power to come forth. Most users of divine fortune tend to stick to gathering one or the other, but you can choose what you want more of by changing hormone levels in the Phasma. It's good to have a mix of both.

Human souls are separate from bodies. They sit on the soul plane, which is one level above the mortal plane. They are still one being, but souls are slightly separate from the body, which is why some things only affect the soul. The only part of the physical body on the soul plane is the Phasma.

The following are two examples of Divinum avatars.

Omega is a strange and somewhat insane plague doctor who is the avatar of Aevum, goddess of time. Instead of getting time powers, he instead got the ability to manifest ice from the moisture in and around him (which is just him subconsciously slowing down time on the subatomic level) This pairs well with his alchemy, which is a completely different system in the universe that i will not be talking about right now. For other avatars, the only time they get to at least see their deity is in hazy visions and dreams, but Aevum instead shows up as a figment of Omegas imagination. She randomly shows up as a transparent veiled woman, and sometimes offers advice, although most of the time she just criticises him and asks way too many questions. Omega finds her really annoying and sometimes thinks she should've just left him to die. Only Omega can see Aevum, which makes him look extremely schizophrenic. After another death, the deity either cuts off their divine power, leaving the avatar to die, or gives more power. This phenomenon is known as a Deus Ex Machina, and allows them to use their “Magnum Opus”. Now at a direct connection with their deity, the avatar can now finally use the root power granted. Omega gained the power to slow down time by 99% and to use many new alchemical techniques, and most notably a technique known as “absolute zero”. This allows him to completely stop time and rapidly mess with time and age on an atomic scale, breaking down atoms and age things until they are naught but dust.

Hellflame is another avatar who instead gets his powers from Vis, god of entropy and energy. Omega and Hellflame are both part of a small squad of mercenaries, and are great friends. Hellflame, as you would imagine, has the ability to start and control fire, as well as go into a demon state, where he gets much better durability, and absorbs kinetic energy.

He utilises his powers well, by using the force of explosions to accelerate his limbs to speeds of mach 2. He also specialises in firearms, and replaces regular bullets with bullets made of superheated plasma, which he generates by chucking any random bit of metal into his guns and heating it up. He may not look like it, but he is just as smart as omega, and has a degree in engineering, (apparently). Upon receiving a Deus Ex Machina, Hellflame gains the ability to store kinetic energy. Upon storing enough kinetic energy, he goes into a state called

Kugelblitz, and becomes effectively indestructive for a few minutes, basically like Hakari’s jackpot from JJK. The aura around him is enough to vaporise glass, and he reaches speeds up to mach 3, enough to contend with the speeds of Omega while slowing down time. His magnum opus is called Oroboros, where he summons a giant snake made of pure universal energy and unbalanced nearby creatures and objects entropy, draining the life out of living things and causing inanimate things to be exploded to dust and even erased. (kinda like malevolent shrine)

Uhhhh yeah that's a bit about my magic system. It still has a few flaws. I'll go more in depth about characters and Alchemy in a separate post I guess, if people care.

I also need help coming up with the name of the mercenary gang Omega and Hellflame are in, but ill talk about that later.

Thanks for reading.