#cure lofty

[toanw]

alchemical precure 2024 edition ✨

[kikker-oma]

Thought I'd share this cursed thought with everyone since I tortured @skyloftian-nutcase ( @luinhealthcare ) with it already hehe

Lofty's still on hiatus but that just means she'll get to revisit it when she's back in April😈

Enjoy Healthcare Hyrule with the ✨EMS Mustache✨ (featuring Mo🤭)

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Tergrid, God of Fright

"Terror is the natural state of a child, they know they are small, vunrable, glass fragile. It is only once we grow that we delude ourselves into thinking we are safe, that we are strong, that we have control over the world we live in. Show a grown man how little control he really has, and you will see the child he always was: pissreeking, repentant, and pleading for his mother. " - Gerheart, village executioner

A goddess for those who hold close to the light dreading the unknown or those who wander gleefully into the dark seeking it, Tergrid is a deity of imagined horrors and terrible omens.

Depicted as a young woman always bearing a lantern, myths speak of Tergrid's shadow as a monstrous, murderous thing with a will of its own. Unable to kill the goddess due to the light she carries, it vents it's directionless wrath on those who linger beyond the lantern's glow. This duality, as both as the victim of fear and the source of it defines the brightmaiden's worship; as she is both threat and saviour to those who draw her attention.

Adventure Hooks:

The party arrive at a country roadhouse at dusk, only to find the inhabitants have nailed shut every door and shutter as if preparing for a siege. They say some horrid murderous things are lurking just off the road, and as the light wanes they refuse to let the heroes inside. The roadhouse's residents are terrified and are willing to fight to keep the party out, half convinced the party are themselves the things they should be afraid of... which isn't to say there ISN'T anything else waiting for that door to open. After negoitating their way inside (or forcing the issue) the heroes discover the roadhouse residents were warned of the danger by a mysterious woman who passed through earlier, though none can remember exactly what she looked like.

A knight renowned for his fearless deeds wanders the street in a waking nightmare, seeing threats everywhere and lashing out at phantoms and passersby. Even after being subdued it’s clear he won’t awake, and many suspect interference from jealous rivals in the upcoming tourney. The knight’s meek squire asks the party to help investigate the causes and possible cures of her master’s madness, never suspecting that her suppressed resentment at his recklessness might’ve manifested as a curse.

In desperate need of answers, the party consults an oracle dedicated to Tergrid who has them undergo trials of fear and phantasm so that they might know the truth. Chiefest among these is battling in a dark cave full of shadow monsters, while flickering visions of the future are cast on the wall by the guttering lantern light. The longer they can endure, the more they will know, but that isn't likely to be long unless they fight harder than they ever have before.

Inspiration: Tergrid is a shameless lift from Magic the Gathering's Kaldheim setting, which I've never played but apparently keep returning to as a consistent well of inspiration.

Fear both as a mechanic and motif is something I think is underutilized in D&D which is odd considering it's a game about venturing out into the unknown to face potentially deadly challenges. Fear and risk are what our heroes must endure to experience the wonder and rewards on the other side of their journey. As such it makes sense for a goddess of fear to play a role in the thematic weave of the stories we end up telling.

Speaking in less lofty terms, I also think using the lantern as a symbol for being frightened fucks hard. It's a tiny, fragile, and temporary respite from an ocean of darkness and the threats it contains.

Worshippers: The lost and abandoned, Unseele Fey, Shadowcasters and other denizens of the shadowfell. There is also heavy overlap with the worship of the night goddess Nyx.

Signs: Nightmares, unnatural or living shadows,

Symbols: A Lantern, often surrounded by a circle of darkness.

Artsource

[otaku-tactician]

random whb 'a christmas beneath heaven' thoughts

i feel like all the demon kings have their very sharp and intelligent moments, in which they have a strong understanding of their surroundings and the situation-though that often gets interrupted by their chaotic sides and vices (which is so goddamn entertaining to me, and makes them relatable in a sense- they have the potential for growth and change.)

All demons are able to influence others to an extent, but whilst the other kings feel like they're still in the wine cellar, maturing with time and experience; I personally feel like Lucifer and Asmodeus are a completely different level of 'sharp and 'intuitive'; like 30 year aged, full-bodied wines.

These two just seem to read things on an entirely different level, even if their behaviours are starkly contrasted to one another's. They're able to notice precise and small details that'd usually pass over the minds of the others.

I'm sure that other events and the main story probably explores these things too, but I'd like to focus specifically on this event; as it gave me many thoughts.

spoilers for the event 'Christmas Beneath Heaven' below!

(btw this is 'not' the link to the event on YT. ; it is!! this account uploaded a lot of the chapters, which is where i got screenshots this time.)

Lucifer

To me, the strongest example of this was how Lucifer knew, from the very start that the mysterious medicine to cure the 'Christmas Cold' wouldn't turn up where everybody else hoped it would.

From the start, he had an inkling it wouldn't be in the middle realm; yet simply because nobody bothered to confirm said information with him, he didn't share his opinion- letting the others independently tackle this lofty challenge.

And the way in which he's able to precisely imagine how every king behaved in their confrontation with the angel Achazriel- shows how talented he is in terms of observational skills, able to predict a great deal of outcomes and situations based off the sheer extent of knowledge he possesses of his peers alone.

He's unsurprised by Achazriel's observations of each king, simply responding with a 'that's (insert name here) for you'; showcasing little to no surprise at all at their behaviours, even if said king has 'changed' or 'developed' in ways.

In a sense, he gives the impression of a proud family member that watches dotingly over all their relatives; observing them with great interest.

My point is? Simply that this guy sure is impressive, possessing such accurate judgements of others and having such a great skill in psychologically digging to the core of numerous beings and situations so quickly and efficiently. His sharpness is really something else, for him to instantly predict how events proceeded just from the slightest bit of information.

Then again, Lucifer is a doctor; so him possessing such a keen insight does make perfect sense. Even Asmodeus asks this guy for his perspective, so maybe Lucifer is just built that way lol.

It would be useful for a doctor to know so much about all his patients, their injuries, thoughts, behaviours, and personalities. Seems Lucifer takes very good care of his demons, which is sweet.

Counterpoint

However, a sharp intuition, influence and intelligence are not traits that are unique to Lucifer either.

There are likely many examples in this in other events, as well as the main story chapters- however I'd like to raise an example from this event (just to stay relevant to this post).

An example is when Belphegor charms the other kings into participating in his idea. He does this by appealing to the manliness of the other kings, subtly influencing their emotions and decisions. This shows that Lucifer is not the only one who understands the kings well enough to accurately predict their behaviours.(they are stuck together for a loooong, loong time so it makes sense they know how to press each others' buttons so wellT-T).

(LMAO this scene was so funny!) So from this, I feel like quite a few demons have the intuitive skill to influence one another's thoughts and emotions, so they all possess sharpness to some degree.

However, I don't think this detracts from Lucifer's incredible skills of observation either. Just because others can do it too, doesn't mean his skill isn't mighty in how all-encompassing it is; with him able to know of most things before even witnessing their answer; and to possess such keen foresight on his peers. Maybe the main story explains the how and why behind Lucifer's abilities in greater detail (I haven't read all of it yet).

Now onto the next big guy...

Asmodeus

Asmodeus also has a very sharp wit, from the very time his first card was released; there were many posts on his ability to quickly analyse others- almost as if he was 'reading the characters' minds'!

Yet again, Asmodeus portrays such a terrifying skill in the way in which he deftly handles Bimet.

In their bets to see how long Beleth would last in the Middle Realm, Asmodeus seems as if he instantly knew what Bimet's bet would be.

There's Bimet, calmly predicting the extent of Beleth's abilities, and as yet another sharp demon; he's able to estimate this very well (so yes Lucifer and Asmodeus aren't the only sharp demons for sure)... Until ASMODEUS STRIKES.

Asmodeus can narrow into others like an arrow, his readings on them akin to a dagger- they never miss their target. It's as if he understands others on an extremely advanced level- none are able to hide from his observational eyes.

And thanks to this, Asmodeus completely leads Bimet's competent line of judgement astray:

As soon as Bimet tries to confirm his predictions with Asmodeus, the cunning guy throws an ugly spanner in Bimet's confident line of thought, throwing him completely off his game- with a judgement that left Bimet feeling deeply ashamed of himself.

It's utterly terrifying what emotions Asmodeus can invoke within others with simply a sentence, able to pry into very vulnerable parts of them. No wonder nobody likes talking to Asmodeus.

Poor Bimet is now completely thrown off his game, thanks to Asmodeus' manipulation; now having to rely on alternative methods to reach his final bet. It's clear that Asmodeus's lofty status as a king, as well as his chilling judgement can have a very strong influence on other demons, and this event just continues to build upon this aspect of his character.

unrelated ramble below:

(Asmodeus' theme in events also sounds like a wild western song, so maybe that's a nod to him being like a dangerous cowboy or sm? A very sly and conniving one, for sure- whose manipulative bullets slither as slowly as his theme. the damage is only felt once his bullets are embedded. His theme has also got some silly-sounding instruments too though, so he does remind me of a troll-like character.)

back to the point:

Asmodeus purposely did this to unnerve the demon (Levithan calls him out on it.) Asmodeus really does give the vibes of an internet troll sometimes, playfully messing around with others and manipulating them for his own personal thrills (wouldn't be surprised if that was one of his many kinks.)

And the end result of such an intelligent manipulation of Bimet's goals and thoughts?

Asmodeus wins the bet entirely, and Bimet crumples up his shit in rage (much to Asmodeus' pleasure). It's completely insane how adept Asmodeus is at trolling other demons-especially ones who are as quick-witted and alert as BIMET-showcasing just how terrifying it would be to take Asmodeus on in a battle of wits.

He likely knows your answer as soon as you come up with it, and won't hesitate to lead you astray onto the wrong decision if he finds amusement in doing so. What a devious demon. T-T

The last note I had on how Asmodeus and Lucifer seem to deftly pick up on miniscule details and tensions- that others aren't always aware of- is how when the some of the other demons found it hilarious to see Beleth become the first unlucky victim to take on his old 'friends'; Asmodeus is quick to pick up on how uncomfortable such a situation would be for Beleth- shocking the other demons into silence at such an eye-opening observation.

His remark leaves some of the demons reeling, expressing guilt for not considering how making Beleth encounter his old friends would make Beleth feel.

In conclusion, Asmodeus is an absolute mastermind at making others feel DEEPLY UNCOMFORTABLE (a bit like his twitter intro posts). Asmodeus is out there playing 4D chess, whilst the others burn in the flames of all the horrifyingly accurate reads he has on them.

Though other demons are also very sharp and competent, Asmodeus is able to manipulate and change their patterns of thought as well, quickly sapping them of their self-assured confidence.

OVERALL

Lucifer and Asmodeus are on a whole different level when it comes to reading others, man. And it's a lot of fun to watch! Though other demons are also sharp and intelligent, able to influence one another- Asmodeus and Lucifer's influence is practically COSMIC; able to topple the schemes and plans of other mighty beings, as well.

[literary-motif]

I've read all your Zaros fics, and it's so gooood! Btw, since some of it was flower themed, would it be okay if you incorporate hanahaki disease? Hehe. Thank you, and have a good day!

Everything with Zaros is flower themed to my eyes. I try to match their symbolism to the sort of deeper meaning of the scene or story I’m writing and so on. Glad you noticed!

Wilted Petals

Zaros Atha'lin x Reader

Zaros was running out of time. 

He had shrugged off the cough at first, soothing all the worried glances and concerned mutterings of the trials being postponed if he was sick and instead pushing through. 

It was what he always did, never allowing himself to stand still for too long when the reputation of his family and his mother’s expectations weighed heavily on his shoulders. Less than perfect was unacceptable. 

The scratching in his throat had not lessened, no matter the amounts of honey he swallowed or the herbal remedies he tried. The cough seemed to worsen with every passing day, and it was getting harder and harder to hide.

“Look at Sarl Zaros, at it again,” he heard the muttered snicker of a passing noble. Zaros was leaning against one of the pillars, discreetly wiping the blood from his mouth and hiding the daffodil petals in his handkerchief. You did not see him, too engrossed in your conversation with the palace gardener.

It had been easy to hide at first, but now the scratching in his throat had evolved into a tightness in his chest, squeezing his heart and suffocating him as he gulped down breaths in between coughs. Being around you now has that effect. 

He felt like he was dying, and according to his mother, who gave him a disapproving look when she saw the dark circles under his eyes and his ashen face, he looked the part, too. 

“Stop wasting your time in the library,” she had said, shaking her head as they strolled through the garden. “Focus on what is important now. Get rest and take the throne, Zaros. I’m counting on you to succeed.”

That was a lofty goal. He could not even say for certain that he would live to see the sunrise.

Despite the library’s excellent catalog, it had taken him days to find a book relating to his condition, and as Zaros skimmed through the pages hastily — telling him this was brought on by unrequited love, telling him his salvation was a reciprocation of his feelings — the loud thumping of his heart grew deafening. 

He was going to die. 

Zaros leaned back, breathing shakily. It was out of the question that you felt anything but burning hatred and occasional annoyance for him. He was done for.

Everyone died in the end, but what kind of shame would it be to do so now? He would disappoint his mother, depriving her of the opportunity to restore the Atha’lin’s standing in society. He would fail in his purpose to better Serulla and tip the scale in the favor of the people. But most of all, how would it look if Sarl Zaros, contestant for the throne and seemingly arch nemesis of the Earis, was found choking to death on daffodil petals? Someone was bound to know about this disease and figure out the rest.

Yet there was no way out. 

Zaros shuddered, contemplating his options. He could stay in the palace, carry out his duty to Serulla and his family until he suffocated on his love under the scornful gaze of the nobles, or he could flee, abandon everything, and find a quiet place to die, taking this secret to the grave. 

He sighed. As appealing as the second option looked, he knew he could never fail in his duty. He could never betray the responsibility put on him, even if it meant withering away for all to see. 

“Are you sick?” you asked, slipping into the seat opposite Zaros and making him jump. “‘Rare Diseases and Cures’ is not what I’d include in my preparation for the trials.” He choked, feeling his eyes water again as his chest tightened. 

“Exc— me,” he heaved as his frame was wracked by coughs, turning away from you to hide behind his handkerchief. 

You watched him quizzically, contemplating getting up to fetch him something to drink. His wheezes sounded painful and the tears escaping his tightly shut eyes made you wonder just how much this was hurting him.  

Zaros had never allowed himself to show his pain, insistent on keeping tight control of himself at all times. It was hard to make him loosen up a bit, even harder to break down his walls. 

No matter how much you wished to comfort him, you knew that was not the relationship you had. He hated you after all, and you were fine with that, truly. Still, it tore you apart seeing him like this, in shambles as he desperately fought for breaths. 

You resolved to have a talk with the Queen about postponing the next trial, lowering your gaze to the page Zaros had been reading. You froze as your blood ran cold.

“Pardon,” he rasped, clenching his fist around the stained crown of the daffodil and wiping away his tears. This was tearing him apart. He just wanted to have the inevitable over with. Why did the universe need to draw out his torment?

“Who is it?” you asked flatly. 

Zaros raised his eyes, steeling himself for another coughing fit that thankfully did not come as he looked at you. “Who is what?” he asked, clearing his throat while tucking away his handkerchief and hiding the droplets of blood on his wrist. 

Your face was unreadable, not betraying the turmoil raging inside you as your eyes remained fixed on the book before him. He muttered a curse. 

“Don’t test me right now,” you warned, lifting your heavy gaze to stare him down. “Who is it? I will have them brought here. I will make them love you if that’s what it takes. So who is it?”

He sighed, shutting the book. “Not even you can force love,” he said, ignoring the metallic taste in his mouth. There was no merit in telling you, and he quietly resigned himself to his fate instead as he got up, prepared to leave.

Your hand shot out to grab his wrist, yanking him back into his seat. He could feel your hand shaking and looking into your eyes, he saw both determination and heartbreak in them. 

What did you have to feel heartbreak about when it was him struggling to breathe? 

“Tell me!” you screamed, finally losing your composure, but you did not care. There was no point in keeping up appearances when Zaros — your Zaros — was dying because of unrequited love.

It made your heart ache knowing that he adored someone this much when he saw you as nothing but a spoiled brat, but your hurt was overshadowed by the chilling terror you felt at the prospect of losing him. 

You refused to let him die. It was something that you simply could not permit, and if whoever it was that had poisoned his heart did not feel the same, you would move earth and heaven until they did. 

“Drop it, Earis!” Zaros spit, wrenching his arm free as his patience ran short. The tightness in his chest only grew worse by your touch. Every moment spent in your company was a cursed blessing and he hated himself for being unable to enjoy his last days with you, his last moments. 

No matter how much you hurt him — by your actions, your words, or by his love for you — he longed to spend every moment of his time with you, engraving the gentle sound of your laugh and the softness of your skin into his mind forever as his love suffocated him.

“Leech! You think you can just leave me like this?” You grasped the front of his sherwani, pulling him towards you and making him stumble against the table. Your blood was boiling with rage at his stubbornness, fear and desperation making you see red. “Tell me!”

“You!” Zaros screamed, his anger at your insistence quickly bleeding away into sorrow. He sighed brokenly, averting his gaze. This was a secret he had meant to take to the grave. Ironic, since it was the one digging it for him as well.

It took your mind only a moment to process before you pulled Zaros into a kiss. 

‘True love’s kiss,’ the scholar had penned near the bottom of the page, listing it as the only known remedy for the disease, and as you felt Zaros’ hands resting gently against your cheeks while he kissed you back, you were grateful that you had remembered. 

“I do, too,” you said as you broke apart. 

Zaros’ mouth was slightly agape, unbelieving of the pressure lifting from his chest in an instant. He could breathe properly again, his hacking coughs seeming like a faraway memory. That he had ever felt pain appeared absurd when you looked at him with such fondness. 

“I love you too.”

[megumimania]

A BIRTHDAY — suguru geto

summary: geto’s birthday doesn’t come without a period of reflection.

content/warnings: geto x black fem reader, set a couple years after hidden inventory arc, established relationship, semi angsty, suggestive, italics are used to signify past conversations,am i late to the party yes but who cares! i fought tooth and nail for this not to have a happu ending

“so what do you say?” suguru’s hand reached out for yours with a charming smile that made it hard for you to say no to. “i’d say that this is the most insane idea you’ve ever had, but im in.”

you really don’t know why you took up his offer that day.

yes, you could argue that you were foolish. caught up in the fantasy of running away from all your responsibilities as a sorcerer or maybe it was because you were curious to see how his plan of eradicating all the non sorcerers in japan would play out.

the sounds of birdsong resounded throughout the grand estate. acting as background noise whilst you laid against one of the pillars out back as you lit up a cigarette—a habit that you picked up in high school. a time in your life that ended just as quickly as it began.

however that didn’t stop you from reminiscing about the memories. never did you indulge in them for too long though, afraid that you would be clinging on to a life that was no longer yours.

besides you lived a different life now.

you were older and now responsible for two adorable little girls mimiko and nanako. they were your entire world and you made sure they knew of that spoiling them rotten with a bunch of toys and cute outfits.

aside from the girls, you and suguru’s relationship was pretty rocky to say the least—years of built up emotions and unspoken words drove a wedge between you both. for you it grew harder and harder to turn a blind eye to what he was doing.

the constant killing of non sorcerers and consuming of curses changed him as a whole. his goals became more lofty and vague rather than being practical and tangible.this often lead to hushed arguments between you both that caused you both to bring your ideologies into focus, making you question if losing everything was worth it at all.

“don’t you think this is all getting out of hand?” you asked one night, wrapping up your hair for bed. too tired to even start an argument.

“it’s extreme yes but it’s necessary.” he replied with a chilling coldness that was unlike him. it was obvious he’d thought this was the absolute truth and you couldn’t convince him otherwise.

he was too far gone.

“necessary? are you hearing yourself?” you felt your blood run cold. the man you once knew now stood before you a stranger.

“i understand it may not be to your tastes but this is the only way.” he replied curtly, signalling the end of the conversation.

he never apologised. leaving you both in the constant cycle of fighting, fucking and making up with each other. some days you’d be playing happy families, taking the girls to school or the park which made you forget about all the chaos that loomed around you.

other days were spent meeting with potential clients who sought out geto as a last resort; using up most of their life savings or last pay-check in hopes that master geto could cure them of their ails or bad luck. you pitied them the most. they were usually the elderly who rarely never made it out alive unless they paid on time.

with a man like suguru the carnage bled into all avenues of his life; his blood splatters in the hallway, the blood on the walls, even on his robes. the metallic scent of blood still lingered when he buried himself in you. no matter how many times you scrubbed yourself clean, you still felt tainted by him.

however you couldn’t dwell on these thoughts for any longer, you had a birthday to celebrate.

you stubbed out the remainders of your cigarette and headed back inside, plastering a false smile on your face as you greeted the kitchen staff. you were presented with suguru’s cake—a rich chocolate cake that had the girls scribbly hand writing in red icing making you smile.

you and the girls carried the cake and his gifts to his room being sure to knock thrice. he opened the door his usual neat top knot now spilling across his shoulders, his robes quite disheveled—yet he still looked handsome as ever.

“happy birthday papa geto!” the girls said in unison holding out their gifts for him to take. suguru’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at them, taking the gifts and setting them down on his desk.

he locked eyes with the cake and you saw a glimpse of his former self peeking through. “you did all this for me?” he looked at the girls with disbelief, feigning surprise knowing damn well he heard you and the girls causing a ruckus in the kitchen.

“yes we did papa do you like it?” nanako the more outspoken of the duo asks but nonetheless their eyes sparkle in anticipation, eagerly waiting for their dad’s approval. suguru lifts them up into his arms and looks at them with such a rare softness that they only got to see.

“i love it more than anything girls, thank you.” he peppered the girls faces with kisses making them break out into a fit of giggles as they tried to break free from his grasp.

it was a picturesque sight of domesticity that you wanted to capture and relive over and over again until it was ingrained into your mind. until you could live and breathe this moment again.

once he blew the candles and the tendrils of smoke dissipated into the morning sun. mimiko was eager to ask what he wished for but in true suguru fashion he was tight lipped about it, standing firm even after all their pestering.

mimiko and nanako eventually gave up and left to play outside, their burning curiosity fizzling out. you and suguru were left alone and it seemed like the celebratory mood died as soon the girls left the room.

“what did you wish for?” you asked into the echo chamber of the bedroom. the silence was driving you mad. “you.” he replied not missing a beat as he inched closer to you. the way he said it with such conviction almost fooled you into believing him.

your treacherous heart betrayed you once again exposing how much you missed him, how much you needed him.

“you already have me.” you said matter of factly, clearing your throat as if it would quell the conflicting feelings of desire and resentment you had towards him.

suguru picked up on your conflicting wave of emotions and paused. “sorry.” he muttered before continuing “I shouldn’t have—I should go.”

and just like that the axis between you both tilted from growing tension to mild tolerance .

you wondered if you should’ve just caved in and enjoyed the fleeting moment of pleasure he offered, knowing how good his touch felt but you knew it was for the best not to fall for it again.

maybe one day you’ll both come to an agreement that this was no longer working. but you were just fine with dancing around the topic until one of you finally had the guts to end things.

[gorgugplushie]

Sprunki.. religous hcs. W sm spec bio.

THE GREAT HARMONY, is the main religion that most sprunkis follow, it is considered a pagan practice that celebrates the diversity of sprunkis and unites them in their sound and music, spunkis celebrate the great harmony with festivals and performances, sprunkis believe the great harmony can influence emotions, create emotions and alter existence. A balance must be kept and all sprunkis must play their part, no matter how small.

Jevin comes for a cultist upbringing that diverges from this belief. The cult believes there is only a select few truly attuned to the great harmony, and it is the great harmonys will to correct and preach to the masses, to sway them from their pagan belief and tune their music to the one and only correct harmony. Choir song is the only form of music allowed in this cult and they turn their noses up at any other form of diverging sound, seeing it as an upfront to the true sound. Jevin sees himself as a redeemer to the rest of the sprunkis, believing it is his will to turn them to the right path. The cultist believe if enough sprunkis are attuned to the true sound, they all will finally live with the great harmony in their otherworldly afterlife. Cultist choirs are strict and rigid with young being raised to follow one song for the rest of their lives.

All sprunkis are adapted to fit their region, other than the sprunkis we know, there are sea sprunkis, finely tuned to living life out in the ocean, while some have catered to a more pirate esque lifestyle, most live out on sea, occasionally coming on land.

Their sounds are exclusive to those that can travel underwater, able to create beautiful lofty music with clicks. Some akin to sirensong or a conch being blown. They can truly get massive, and their bodies are fitted with horns made to make cutting through water easier. They mainly live on a diet of fish, seaweed, clams and crabs, some going as far to hunt and eat sharks.

Choirs that live on land have adapted to hunting their prey by foot, being able to stalk smaller prey like rabbit and birds and take down larger prey such as fawn by hunting in packs. Larger pray is hunted by giving chase, nipping and biting to slow their prey down and disable it.

Sprunkis can eat their meat raw but are evolved enough to have learned how to make tanning racks for drying and curing meat for later, sprunkis are also known to take the hides of their prey for clothing and using the fur for their burrows.

Sprunkis that live on the sea are extremely superstitious, many believe in seeing omens in the life and nature around them, and do readings. while some believe in the great harmony, others follow the long call, a branch of the great harmony, one that believes that the great harmony exudes a long low bellow that all sprunkis must try their best to hear, and follow. Sprunkis that live at sea are adapted to crafting potions and poisons. These rituals are used in their religious belief.

[huggywuggysuppy]

What If Wizard Gem Stayed Corrupted?

This one's for you @nach0-reblogs

Corrupted Wizard Gem! Her anti-conflict fears replaced with burgeoning confidence and even more denial towards needing help! I think she'd probably go for the empires crown, maybe even steal it directly from fWhip. Normal Gem is uninterested because she doesn't want/need anything from the other empires, but Corrupted Gem would have the ambitions necessary to demand things. Maybe building resources to grow her kingdom, or a unique magical tribute offered from each empire (Sausage's staff, Shrub's spirit mask, etc.) who's removal & hording would cause a lot of local crises. She wouldn't be overthrown quickly (unlike, say, Scott) but would instead cause a lot of lore and storylines (like, say, Lizzie.)

Stealing it from fWhip could create soooo much angst and story potential: maybe she finally snaps at him and calls him weak, or worse, constantly getting them both into trouble /neg. Taking the crown keeps him safe, as she ultimately loves him & her alliance members, but is also terribly mean and controlling. He'd probably support her anyway, but when the time comes, he'd deny a command (just as she did under his rule but angstier) letting the crown get stolen while simultaneously creating a window for the cure. He'd 100% comfort her after her loss, and it'd be really cute and they'd have a heart-to-heart.

Most empires would be daunted by Gem's skill and overwhelming confidence, so it would come down to the bold (Joey, Jimmy) and the loving (Sausage, Pearl) to confront her. Since the corruption is Xornoth related, Scott or Shrub probably get in on things, but nervously and "let's do this as fast as possible." You could get a lot of mileage out of Sausage besting her in combat / even killing her, paralleling her freeing Sausage from Xornoth earlier. Wizard Gem's fatal flaw is denial, so she probably pushes off fWhip trying to talk her down her whole reign and is then surprised when he resists & forces her to take the cure. Lasting consequences? Maybe some buildings get set on fire (with campfires/fire tick off) and Gem's lofty exasperation is brought down a peg or two as she admits she's just as susceptible to foolishness as the rest of them.

Man, I love Empires and Geminitay. If you somehow found this in the wild, I have a longer Wizard Gem analysis I'm super proud of. Thanks for reading!

[toanw]

alchepre civilian profiles! cure forms

[plaguedocboi]

Tell us more about Moby Dick!! :D

Ishmael is a fascinating little specimen let me tell you. He has a reputation for being a “boring narrator” but that’s complete bullshit. Right out the gate he’s like “hello this is my (fake) name, I’m poor, I’m depressed, but luckily when I can tell I’m about to kill myself I hop my ass on a boat because the water can cure whatever’s wrong with you, also we are all being controlled by the puppet strings of the divine and free will is an illusion. It is now Page Three.”

The entire first part of the book is his story of meeting, falling in love with, and marrying a hot tattooed Polynesian man in what may be the first recorded case of the “there was only one bed” trope and it only gets wilder from there. This really caught be off guard tbh, I had no idea that there was so much gay stuff in this book.

I honestly cannot even pick my favorite Ishmael moment. Could it be him being adamantly on the wrong side of the “are whales fish or mammals” debate? That he suggests narwhal’s horns would be good for turning the pages of small books? When he hides behind the mast and eats some spermaceti because he just has to know what it tastes like? When he tattooed himself with measurements of a beached whale but rounded all the numbers because he also needed room for the poem he was writing on his arm? The gay sperm squeezing chapter? When he made his drunk listeners fetch him a priest and a Bible so he could swear he was telling the truth? And then lied????

Ishmael’s musings range from beautiful, lyrical prose that makes you stop and reread the section because damn, and chapters about How Rope Works and encyclopedic writing about the whaling industry. There are lofty theological debates and accusations about the reader being a fish. You spend much of this book wildly seasick because Ishmael’s voice is manic, hilarious, and disorienting. Once you’ve finished this story, you, too, will feel like you’ve spent three years aboard a whaling ship.

Although the unhinged tangents are often amusing, many people complain because they probably account for 90% of the book with only the remaining 10% devoted to the plot. Surely if we just got rid of Ishmael’s Nonsense it would be better, correct? No. This is Ishmael’s memoir. He knows how it ends. These plot-delaying anecdotes are purposeful; he does not want to reach the end because it is The End. The death of his friends and his husband. The inevitable, unforgiving blade of fate that slices the lives of of the Pequod’s crew short and leaves him alone and adrift at sea. Enjoy his journey, because it may seem long now but it ends all too soon.

[projecthypocrisy]

Thanks so much to @sapphirothcrescent who has fantastic ideas and I devour them >:3

AUs that may actually work in the Nightmares multiverse

Marriage Contract au: Sephiroth returns from Nibelheim to find that Hojo has passed and he has been instructed to oversee the division of the R&D department. He comes across a little-known scientist trying her best to keep her position as a researcher. He offers her a deal: marry him and she gets access to her position after the restructure. But she has more lofty goals in mind, namely being head of R&D.

Vampire au: This got me going after reading yours! I just can imagine Helena really trying to save Sephiroth by finding a cure and he's just hungry ALL THE TIME. Helena hemorrhaging in order to keep him fed enough so Hojo doesn't "decommission" him.

[pi-ying-xi]

I find it more plausible that Murong Jinghe would have a doctor inject leeches into his body, and that would somehow generate an antidote that would cure the poison in Mei Lin's body; all while silently enduring pain others would find hard to bear...

...than that Luomei has fallen so deeply in love with the crown prince, that she is able to put aside her lofty principles to stand by the man she knows has lied and schemed, committed mass murder and has even gone so far as to poison the emperor.

Another actor might have made it convincing; just not this one.

[gofancyninjaworld]

'I Don't Want To Cure Cancer' OPM Edition

With apologies to Spiderman.

Let's go round and interview a few scientists in OPM, shall we?

Us: Dr. Bofoi, we can't help but notice the extraordinary speed with which you cleared City A and erected a new headquarters, all at a small fraction of the cost that would have been expected. Beyond that, we notice that your capacity to build at scale is unparalleled. With so many people losing their homes to monster attacks and other disasters, why don't you take the next step and cure homelessness?

Dr. Bofoi: I don't want to cure homelessness. I want to bill the Hero Association for every Yen I can get. I assure you, it's going to a far more important cause. Actually, more importantly, how did you get in here?

____

Us: Dr. Kuseno, your endeavours in supporting the hero Demon Cyborg are truly extraordinary. Once people thought the dream of near-infinite clean energy from nuclear power to be a pipe dream, yet you appear to have solved this problem in an incredibly compact and robust way. Why don't you use your technology to cure energy shortage and usher in a new industrial revolution?

Dr Kuseno: Lol, I fear you may have mistaken me for someone with lofty ideals. I don't aspire to anything as grand as a new industrial revolution. I don't mind doing the odd good deed, but my aims are far more simple: I want to develop a killer cyborg through whom I can pour out the fullness of my burning rage against my enemies.

___

Us: Dr. Genus, you have not only understood the rules of life far better than any person but have rewritten them entirely. With your army of you, there are few fields that you do not have a purview of. Perhaps the most amazing thing you could do would be to harness your ability to clone flesh indefinitely to cure world hunger and stop the depredation of the natural world to feed humanity. How about it?

Dr. Genus: Starving is about all the unimproved mass of humanity deserves. I have no interest in curing world hunger. I just want somebody intelligent enough to talk to. Pause Which you most certainly aren't.

[for-thebelievingwomen]

Read, Reflect, Take Heed

The rectification of the heavens of the earth and the uprightness and order of the creation in such a perfect manner is from the most obvious proofs that there is none worthy of worship except Allāh alone without any partners, to Him alone belongs complete sovereignty and praise, He is able to do all things and that every other thing that is worshipped besides Him from the lofty heavens by the mighty throne to the depths of the earth is worshipped in falsehood.

[Source: The Disease and The Cure Pg.445 By Ibn al-Qayyim | Translated by Osman Hamid | Published by: Hikmah Publications]

[luca-girlblog]

Holes Song

Why does this lonely woodpecker sigh? And why is the wolf's sole companion the moon? The beak dulls from tapping on this bark, this back and forth, it will not break, and you, bird will not break your gaze. The throat tires from howling at this moon, this swooning the light does not love you, and you, wolf need an uncelestial friend. Up the soft skies, down the hungry ground Cease your lofty lies, cease your sorrowed sound. Beak meets jaw, feather meets fur. Look down at him. Look up at her. "If only, if only." "If only, if only." They carry a half of the cure for the lonely.

[snezus-christ-risen]

Somehow this two part En//canto fic turned into four parts?? That’s hedonism, baby! This one has some sneeze references but it’s light on the actual sneezing. Consider it the calm before the storm. Sorry for all the Spanish but I trust you’re all adults who can google if you don’t understand lol. Lots of love to anyone who likes, reblogs, or even just reads this and goes about their day. Thank you for partaking in my literary gruel.

Stubborn Things, Part II - Intermezzo

(Part I - https://www.tumblr.com/snezus-christ-risen/747603245128712192/i-am-both-pleased-and-ashamed-to-debut-my)

Things were not going smoothly.

Somewhere between most of the family heading out to town and Julieta collecting the plates to be washed, Bruno absconded from the room. Typical. She only took her eyes off him for a few seconds, but that was all he ever needed. He could still move pretty fast for someone who just returned from a ten-year sojourn complaining of sore joints and back pain.

Julieta tracked him down with help from Antonio and the two rats that had joined them at breakfast. “They’re worried about him,” Antonio reported, when Julieta asked why they were so quick to “rat” out their companion. He stopped and seemed to listen to the impassioned squeaks of the rat riding on his right shoulder before continuing. “And they’re tired of getting scared and shooken around every time he sneezes.”

Julieta couldn’t help but chuckle. If those noiseless stifles were enough to startle his rodents, she couldn’t imagine how they would handle his sneezes at full force. Once upon a time, the youngest Madrigal triplet was notorious for his huge, house-rattling sneezes. There were times when they quite literally rattled the house, confirming that Casita was not immune to being startled. His sneezing was just as much an annoyance for his mother and sisters as it was a source of amusement. They used to joke that as the man of the house, his sneeze had to be imposing (especially since nothing else about him was). Bruno never found it as amusing as they did and was very much embarrassed by his lack of volume control. Pepa swore he was loud for attention, but Julieta knew he hated the scrutiny and would have given anything to be invisible when it happened. No matter how hard he tried, he just never seemed to be able to get a grip on it.

All of that changed the night Dolores received her gift. Nearly blowing out his niece’s newly hyper-sensitive eardrums was traumatic enough for him to commit to finding an immediate solution. Even if that solution was learning to painfully stifle his sneezes for the rest of his life. Dolores learned to control her gift to some degree, but even with her explicit permission, and the reassurance that his sneezes were but a drop in the ocean of sounds that bombarded her daily, Bruno clung to the habit. It became another form of self-inflicted punishment in his extensive repertoire.

Surely the practice was a boon in the walls, but there was no use for it now. His method seemed to draw more attention and admonishments than ever before; it truly served no purpose under these conditions except to self flagellate. Julieta resolved to help him break this behavior once and for all, but she would have to find him and cure his cold first. She tried not to overthink the loftiness of these goals.

At least finding him was easy enough. The rats led them to the downstairs sitting room, where they found Bruno slumped on the floor between the chaise lounge and a bookshelf. It reminded Julieta of how he used to play hide and seek with her girls, tucking himself away in the most obvious of places just to make them laugh. With the hood of his ruana up and most of his face in shadow, his expression was hard to read; she suspected it lacked the mirth those memories carried for them. Julieta reached down to touch his head gingerly, frowning at the heat that radiated from his skull.

“Brunito,” she said, lowering her hand.

It was more of a gentle command than a greeting. He didn’t decline her helping hand, to her surprise and relief. With a groan and some effort - more than it should have taken, even at their age - Bruno got to his feet. Once he was as upright as he was going to get he leaned into her, allowing himself to be guided back towards the kitchen. His docility was convenient but concerning, a sign that he was too ill to flee or put up a fight.

Antonio suddenly grabbed her other hand, uncertain as he looked up at his tía for further guidance. Julieta felt bad for involving him for this long already. She was still working on not treating the children like little adults, as had been their family’s tradición tóxico for as long as she could remember.

“Gracias, Antonio,” she said, ruffling his curls as she tightened her arm around her brother’s shoulders. “You were a big help this morning. Your tío will be good as new once I’m through with him, won’t you, tío?”

Right on cue, Bruno flashed his nephew a weak smile and a thumbs-up. It was all Antonio needed to feel reassured. He stretched his arms as wide as he could to hug his aunt and uncle simultaneously, then climbed up onto his jaguar.

“Feel better, tío,” he said, giving a little goodbye wave as they lurched towards the front door. “I’m going to see if Abuela needs my help now. Los quiero!”

“Gracias, pollito,” Bruno said, his voice straining against something more than just emotion. “Te queremos.”

As soon as the front door closed he folded into his sister’s side with a series of spluttering coughs. Julieta held him steady and rubbed his back, shushing his choked apologies and flinching as her hand bumped against a mysterious lump. No sooner did it disappear than she heard a thump and the scrabbling of tiny claws against the tiles. Malditas ratas en todas partes. Such a nuisance, but she had to admit their concern for him was sweet. She could hear the pitter patter of at least a dozen little feet as she and Bruno resumed their cortège toward the kitchen.

His body felt warm against hers and his collar was damp with sweat. He was sniffling more after his coughing fit; Julieta could feel his nose scrunching up against her shoulder where his face was buried. When they were just a few steps from the kitchen he stopped abruptly, causing Julieta to nearly trip over their feet.

“Estás bien?” she asked, working to regain her balance and his.

Bruno responded with a series of urgent breaths, scrambling to tuck his nose into the folds of his ruana. Julieta winced as his body shook against her twice, both sneezes tightly and painstakingly contained. She found herself blessing him rather than scolding him, and actively suppressing the urge to do the latter. She didn’t have the heart to kick him this time, either, and quite frankly, she was concerned she might hurt an innocent rat if she tried. Instead she waited patiently while he struggled towards a third sneeze that had no interest in making an appearance. Keeping one arm wrapped around her waist, Bruno lifted the other to hover indecisively in front of his face. A quick glance at the cloudless sky above the courtyard prompted a few breaths that sounded promising, but ultimately failed to deliver. For some reason he didn’t use that little light trick of his again; Julieta suspected he was growing too self-conscious and chose to accept defeat in lieu of further embarrassment.

“Híjole,” was all he could say as he leaned into her again, sounding as woozy as he looked.

“Pobrecito,” Julieta crooned, handing him a napkin from her apron pocket.

They continued on, Julieta keeping a close eye on her brother in case he decided to pull another surprise stop. He did, but only to dig through a pocket and throw salt over his left shoulder. Then he sucked in a breath, held it, and knocked against the doorframe as they crossed the threshold into the kitchen. Julieta snuck in a knock or two along with him.

Just in case.