#dreamers of the myths & legends

[chaos-squared-house]

The Silly Thing!!

A little thing of Oddity from @dreamnoteprincess’s pokemon au!!

I don’t quite know how to make gifs for the most part, but still hope this looks cool nuff! :3

[thedreamworldlibrary]

Made by @gigilefache!

Here is the Dream 4 and their Pokémon!! Next chapter is coming soon and you're gonna love it!!

Some spoilers for upcoming chapters, but Sara's Skiddo is the chapter after the next one and you'll meet Oliver's Scorbunny soon!

[phynixdotcom]

Man. The Herobrine really is summat else. We got:

A glitch of a ghost in the machine that causes every error in the game

The White Eyes character, stemming from a texture error, which becomes associated with the cave noise & eventually leads to the creation of the Herobrine myth

Transgender swag

The fucken. Brocraft stream that links to that ONE image & implies that either you or Herobrine are "asleep" & dreaming

The way that Herobrine myths kicked up due to the TF2 influx, after the devs made mention of the game

Every single unexplained structure in the game, all abandoned, all without a clear group that created them can & will be associated with Herobrine

The mineshafts. The ruined portals. The deep dark. It's kind of like a story, told in three arcs, if you squint right

Like something that used to live there, toiled in the soil along with the worms

Like something that got locked away, that wants to go back

Like something that needs to be kept out

Every single zombie looks like Steve. Does that say anything? Does it imply something about Herobrine, another reflection, but maybe a bit more sentient? With teeth that are a bit more sharp, with a malice that is a bit more cold?

Mojang putting the "Removed Herobrine" note in for YEARS, then one day dropping it, only to bring it back 3 years later

N*tch being scrubbed from the game's lore, so he's also (sometimes) scrubbed from Herobrine's lore, leading to alternate origins

He is the first player. He is the ghost of a fellow player. He is an architect, a miner, a builder. He is a friend to all the mobs, & an enemy to those that take all the trees & never replant the saplings. He is a curious onlooker, probably harmless. He is a deep loathing. He is a danger, a legend, just a myth, but is he?

The way that people's opinions of Herobrine have shifted through years, like a litmus test for Minecraft players as a whole

It starts with the eerie feeling of being in a room you KNOW should be empty, but feeling eyes on you, anyways & ends with a sad type of goodbye, a dreamer seeking a dreamer condemned

The way he's more quiet, more calm, less prone to the griefing & attacks he was once known for, like his fire has cooled with time

The Minecraft end poem. Maybe. Do you think Herobrine ever got to hear those words? "I love you," & "You have played the game well"?

The person with the Herobrine username, which has had the catboy Herobrine skin on for years o7

[polysucks]

What’s ur take on Elia/Lyanna

call me robert the way i hate rhaegar targaryen

let's talk about the romanticized martyrdom of these beautiful brown women and the tragedy that is the narrative they are forced to haunt.

Mourned, But Never Saved: How We Failed Elia and Lyanna

Word count: 1651 Time to read: 9 - 15 mins No major CWs except for my opinions, which are classified by the SCP Foundation as optic hazards

In literature, media, and even real-life tragedies, there is an obsession with The Perfect Victim—the young, beautiful, tragic woman whose suffering is romanticized, whose fate is mourned but never queried. She is consecrated in death, turned into an emblem of loss rather than a person with wants, needs, and a right to legacy of her own. It is easier to weep for her than to hold the men who destroyed her accountable.

It is easier to say, how sad, than to say, who did this?

Who let this happen?

Who benefited from it?

This phenomenon is not unique to Elia Martell and Lyanna Stark.

It is everywhere. We see it in the way murder victims—especially young, beautiful women—are transformed into icons of sorrow, their faces plastered across documentaries and true crime podcasts, their lives reduced to cautionary tales or poetic misfortunes for profit of more men who are so far removed from the tragedy they can justify the commodification. We see it in the way literature often treats female suffering as tragic inevitability, a necessary sacrifice to elevate the story of a male protagonist. And we see it in how Westerosi history records women like Elia and Lyanna—not as figures in their own right, but as the lost wives and lovers of great men.

There is a reason the world (and us, the fandom. myself included. I love a good Lyanna deification) linger on their beauty, their youth, their tragic ends, but not their anger.

Not their suffering.

Not their humanity.

The waif aesthetic that dominates social media—the fetishization of frailty, of doomed beauty—allows women like Elia and Lyanna to be preserved in glass (Metaphorically, but Lyanna is literally encased in stone), as if they were expected to die young the whole time, as if their stories had no other possible ending. It allows them to be stripped of their voices, reduced to passive, inevitable victims to their gender, and therefore circumstances, while the men who led them to their deaths remains shrouded in legendary calamity.

Rhaegar was a dreamer. Rhaegar was burdened by prophecy. Rhaegar was torn between love and duty. Excuses.

These justifications place his choices above their suffering, making their deaths seem like collateral damage in his grand narrative. Reduced to pitstops on the journey that is Rhaegar’s lamentable fate.

Their suffering is seen as a necessary part of his legend. Their deaths serve his myth.

Elia’s murder is not seen as an act of racialized violence against a Dornish woman and her mixed-race children, but as a tragic consequence of Rhaegar’s failure. Lyanna’s death is not treated as the cost of her own choices—whatever choices she may have made, but as the romantic conclusion to an ill-fated love story. They are not given full stories of their own. Their deaths are simply moments in his.

This is the same blindness that allows figures like Humbert Humbert in Lolita to frame themselves as misunderstood lovers rather than predators to the untrained eyes, and pseudo-critical thinker. Just as Humbert tells the story of Dolores Haze through his own selfish, delusional lens—robbing her of her voice, her autonomy, her anger, her right to be seen as more than his obsession—so too does Westerosi history rob Elia and Lyanna of their full truths. We mourn them, but only as beautiful ghosts, not as women who deserved better.

But Elia Martell was not just a forsaken wife. She was a Dornish princess with pride in her homeland, a mother, a woman who fought for the survival of her children. And Lyanna Stark was not a stolen maiden. She was a Northern girl with a wolf’s heart, with confidence, with autonomy, a woman who knew what she wanted, even if the world refused to let her have it.

To mourn them without condemning him is to continue the same cycle that destroyed them. It is to let them remain frozen in time, tragic saints of Rhaegar’s doomed love story, rather than women whose lives were stolen by a man’s choices.

We cannot allow them to become hollowed-out saints of tragedy, their stories reduced to romantic footnotes in the Targaryen legacy. They were not just victims. They were women. And they deserved more.

The Women Rhaegar Targaryen Left Behind: The Perfect Victims of a Flawed Legacy

Elia Martell: A Princess, A Mother, A Betrayed Woman

Elia Martell was a Dornish princess, born in a land where women had more agency and political power than most of Westeros. In Dorne, daughters can inherit titles, rule in their own right, and are not cast aside for the crime of being born female. Though, even in this progressive culture, Elia was still used as a political pawn. Under the weight of political pressure on her homeland, she was married off not as an equal partner, but as a tool to serve the Targaryen dynasty—her body reduced to a vessel meant to bridge two kingdoms in subservience, not unity.

Unlike most Westerosi noblewomen, Elia likely grew up learning court intrigue, family honor, and the weight of responsibility alongside her brother Oberyn. She was not a sheltered damsel but a woman of sharp mind and fierce spirit—something we see reflected in Oberyn’s devotion to her memory. He does not recall her as fragile or passive but as someone who deserved better, someone whose suffering should not be forgotten.

When Oberyn confronted Gregor Clegane in King’s Landing, he demanded that Gregor say her name. Not Rhaegar’s. Not Aerys’. Elia’s. He refused to let her become just another nameless casualty of the Targaryen downfall. He forced her murderer to acknowledge that she was more than Rhaegar’s discarded wife—that she was a woman, a mother, a sister. That she mattered.

Yet history continues to erase her. The common narrative reduces Elia to a tragic mistake in Rhaegar’s story, the wrong wife he had to cast aside to fulfill his grand destiny. But Elia was not the wrong wife. She was the right wife—for herself, for her children, and for her people. It was Rhaegar who failed her, not the other way around.

Lyanna Stark: A Wolf, Not a Maiden

Lyanna Stark exists in the public consciousness as a ghost of two extremes: either a helpless girl stolen away against her will or a reckless romantic who doomed herself and thousands of others for love. But neither of these simplifications capture the full truth of who she was.

Ned remembers Lyanna as fierce and willful, a girl with a warrior’s spirit, more like Arya than Sansa. He openly wonders if she would have carried a sword if their father had allowed it. She was not passive, not delicate—she was a Stark through and through, wild-hearted and strong.

She was also perceptive. She saw through Robert Baratheon’s romanticized view of her and understood that he would never be faithful. She knew what kind of life awaited her as Robert’s queen, and she wanted no part of it.

At Harrenhal, she was not just Rhaegar’s great love—she was a girl who made an impact on those around her. She was remembered for her boldness, for her defiance of traditional expectations. If she was, as many believe, the Knight of the Laughing Tree, then she was not some lovestruck maiden swept away by fate—she was a protector, a rebel, someone who took action in the face of injustice. And that act had nothing to do with Rhaegar.

Even in death, her final words to Ned—Promise me, Ned—were not about Rhaegar. She was not mourning her lost love. She was not asking Ned to preserve Rhaegar’s dream. She was thinking of her son, of the next generation, of ensuring his survival. Her last act was not about romance—it was about family, about duty, about love in the way only a Stark would understand it.

And just as her own agency is stripped from her, so too is her son’s identity. Jon Snow is often defined entirely by his Targaryen heritage, despite the fact that Lyanna fought to ensure he would not be a pawn of House Targaryen. She did not die for Rhaegar’s prophecy—she died whilst ensuring her child lived outside of it.

The stories of Elia Martell and Lyanna Stark are not just footnotes in the legend of Rhaegar Targaryen. They are not sacrifices for prophecy, not symbols of doomed romance, not mere casualties of a tragic war. They were women with agency, with convictions, with love for their families that transcended the narrative they are forced to haunt. To remember them only as victims is to betray them all over again—to strip them of the depth and defiance that made them who they were. If their suffering is to mean anything, it must be seen for what it truly was: not a poetic tragedy, but an injustice. Not a love story, but a loss. And not a justification for Rhaegar’s actions, but an indictment of them. We do not honor them by mourning their deaths—we honor them by remembering their lives.

But history, both fictional and real, loves to turn women like them into saints of sorrow—The Perfect Victims. The world mourns them but does not seek justice for them. It remembers their beauty, their tragedy, but not their anger. It allows their suffering to be poeticized, aestheticized, while the men who doomed them remain enigmatic, misunderstood figures.

But Elia Martell was not misunderstood. She was betrayed.

Lyanna Stark was not a tragic mystery. She was a woman who acted.

And that is how they deserve to be remembered.

[funeral]

The affective component of the dream stirs the dreamer's emotions and bars the way to associations. For the dream expresses itself in strange, often mythological images. From the treasure house of the psyche it draws forth unusual shapes and figures, for the most part numinously charged. The best way to understand them is to go back to the world of collective images contained in legends and fairytales, in myths and poetry, or in the cultural and religious symbols of human history—the world in which dragon and serpent, treasure and cave, tree and blossom, gods and demons have their home and from which they speak to us in imperishable symbols.

Jolande Jacobi, Complex/Archetype/Symbol in the Psychology of C.G. Jung

[guardiansvalor]

the star dreamers are deities or at LEAST linked to moonlight. éclair's dream was a vision. —a theory

you know what time it is! the theory i ALWAYS ramble about.

some parts of this may be taking stretches, but let's not waste any time. more important factors are in bold for ease.

this is in sections.

- a summary of the story

- an observation of the costume set's descriptions and inspirations

- observation of the costume set's bond story

- why the nightfall butterfly was used by moonlight to induce éclair's dream as a vision

with that, allow me to begin.

a summary of the story :

the bond story is linked here if you'd like to read it for yourself. butttt, for those of you who can't be bothered :

éclair cookie falls asleep whilst writing a relic journal on nightfall butterflies. he dreams of three cosmic entities, constellation guardians. these being financier cookie, wildberry cookie and cream unicorn cookie. éclair wakes up, and there is assumption his dream was from the nightfall butterfly, tales say it can cause dreams of the night sky.

an observation of the costume set's descriptions and inspirations :

éclair cookie, stargazing scholar :

let's clear éclair up first, shall we? éclair is not as significant as of currently compared to the other three. he is an astronomer and the observer, serving as the gateway to what we see about the star guardians. he is based around the fantasy-astronomy aesthetic. he has no zodiac basis, yet for...some reason the fandom just appointed him as aquarius someday. he is the main character of the story.

financier cookie, brilliance of justice :

alright, to the deities here! financier cookie's brilliance of justice costume is based upon libra, as well as the greek titan-goddess themis (lady justice). the theming of lady justice is extremely blatant.

and as of the manner the costume is described in. it's pretty straight up.

the phrasing of so divine that you do nothing but revere to her is head on. that's a deity right there! these descriptors are...obviously deliberate.

wildberry cookie, hero blessed by the stars :

wildberry's costume is based off of heracles, the greek divine hero. there are also hintings of the leo and serpens constellations.

also pretty on the nose. the beginning of a new legend, plus this description is literally how you'd tell an epic tale or legend..... a hero protecting the peace of the night.

cream unicorn cookie, memories in the night sky :

cream unicorn's costume's basis is pegasus! the fandom also kind of collectively agrees there's virgo stuff LOL

a moment too magical to be true. this theory can also lean on cream unicorn a little more due to them being a mythical creature and powerful figure already.

yeah? yeah! the common theme here is that the three guardians are described like you'd think of a divine myth or something.

the theming is also very well picked out. the costumes could have easily been designed with the same midnight theme as éclair, but they chose great figures. verrry deliberate.

it's also established in stormbringer cookie's update that gods and deities appear to be a different matter in cookie run. deities are seemingly “lesser”. do what you will with that.

you probably think "this is just a dream this is going to happen", i can counter that

observation of the costume set's bond story :

hope you didn't forget the summary too fast! lets get into this next part where we apply more onto this.

as i said, the story begins with éclair adjusting himself for a night of stargazing.

the first constellation he falls onto is wildberry. wildberry knocks out the serpent and lion constellations via a punch, calming them. apparently things have been growing dangerous in the northern sky. his powers seem to include peace induction.

this isn't normal, no shit sherlock. oh but wildberry in the real world is something i'd like to discuss.

wildberry cookie's strength does not appear to be natural, or at least stronger than the average cookie. okay, gauntlet, sure, but he doesn't seem to have much problem fighting an ambush of white masks bare-fisted. he also can carry his gauntlet around without problem while crunchy chip (a strong WELL trained cacaoian warrior mind you, literal beast tamer) struggles with it. we can assume somethings going on here

wildberry is outshone by the dazzling light of financier cookie's sword. financier, as her description pretty obviously states, weighs out justice with her scales. the stars with "murky lights in their hearts" flee from her.

financier in the real world has a great sense of justice (see: cookie odyssey). it'd be a nice pointer to these things. a fair just paladin, the glass slipper of serving as lady justice would fit perfectly.

and finally, cream unicorn's mild light pacifies both stronger lights of wildberry and financier's. well, i'll use the dream excuse for them walking across the milky way because How™.

cream unicorn's case in the real world is interesting. they are already powerful, the role of a deity wouldn't be far off from them. at least i believe so? i'm not too caught up on their lore and i apologise for that.

and the story concludes with éclair awakening. he makes his way to the natural ecology wing to see a faint glow coming from the nightfall butterfly. as stated, tales say they can induce dreams of the night sky.

this actually gets into the next point.

the nightfall butterfly and why moonlight used it to induce éclair's dream :

for reference, here's the relic!

in the bond story it's actually called the nightlight butterfly, but we can pretty easily equate them to be the same thing. plus the butterfly is in the nature hall, no doubt the ecology wing.

the alternative name to the butterfly is the star jelly butterfly. the city of wizards has a motif of star jellies throughout, especially with say, milky way cookie. it even takes place on moonlights clock tower!

also wings like the night sky? providing dreams? that's the city of wizards for ya.

onto miss "night sky and dreams" herself — moonlight cookie!

moonlight's crescent guardian attire is on par with the guardian star dreamers costumes. right off the bat.

moonlight providing the dream makes sense. note this could have been ANY cookie as the observer, though they chose to play around with éclair's relics. moonlight can prooobably grant specific dreams.

this, is moreso a vision than a dream. the nightfall butterfly was in the reach of éclair. and listen, he's knowledgeable enough to hold such a revelation and to piece the puzzle. it'd make sense for him to be plucked out.

wouldn't it be nice to see some of the stars moonlight yearns for, those who she'd dance with upon twilight?

moonlight is awake when gaining her crescent guardian state. this is reality. it is achieved upon reuniting with stardust cookie (look. STARdust. the stars). stardust is essentially the key to this, and this perfectly falls in line if we assume this time period is when éclairs dream happened.

my point is also to say that the dreamers are in a state of dormancy of some sort.

a few extra points to this :

sea fairy blesses the gem mermaids with powers. why shouldn't a fellow legend be able to do the same?

the odds of the costumes having relevancy to lore is NOT impossible, contrary to belief. due to the setting being a dream, it could've actually happened and had no effects on the lore quite yet. also, white lily's costume was presumed to just be an "au" but became canon to the storyline. it's not impossible!

éclair doesn't know these cookies. or at least, he is never seen to interact with any of them. éclair DOES interact with financier in the crunchy spring picnic story, but wildberry and cream unicorn? debatable. why dream of cookies you don't know? the brain cannot make up faces.

this is a stretch but getting a whole bond story when easily able to have been lumped in with crunchy dreams?? goddamn!!

also.. face it. if devsisters can get money off of this for a beast yeast plot or something, why not go in for it? AND there is still room for a moonlight update. she will gain a crystal jam eventually, as well as other untouched city of wizards things that could be expanded on.

some of this might not make sense, i was extremely tired typing. butttt.. here's my whole input of it. thanks for coming to my ted talk

[yoshiyoshitaniart]

Heya! I’m not sure what questions’ve been asked/answered already but I’ve been keeping up with your progress on the oracle cards (can’t wait to get them btw! I already own the tarot you made and I love them) I just wanted to ask about the “theme” of each of your five suits? I have theories but nothing solid.

Also, something that caught my attention was how most of your card names in the four suits with depictions of specific myths are nouns (specifically concepts— ambition, order, purity, etc.) but the Amaterasu card is the verb ‘Ascend’? You also have two cards labeled ‘Trickster’ and ‘Dreamer’ which also break the pattern of ‘name-of-concept’ like ‘Trickery’ or ‘Dreams’ in favor of ‘person-engaged-with-concept’ and I was wondering what the significance of that distinction was to the meanings of those cards. Knowing how the meaning behind oracle cards is largely dependent on the deck’s maker, I got curious but I /have/ been known to read too far into things in the past so thought I’d just ask.

So sorry that this ask got so long! I’m too hyped about this deck I have to k n o w but I also don’t want to bother too much if this all gets explained in a guidebook like with your tarot cards.

Thank you for your question! I am extremely flattered that you're following my oracle deck so closely, and I really hope that it can live up to your expectations! tldr; the exact names are a work in progress. I have strong feelings about the energy of each card, but I'll probably be tweaking until the last minute what each TITLE should be. It's hard to encapsulate everything a whole character and theme represents, and you're right about the adjective/verb/noun jumble being confusing. It's definitely something I'm taking into consideration, and have been talking with my publisher about. If you're interested in following along, I recommend joining my monthly newsletter! I put updates there and will keep everyone apprised of publishing news

Longer answer:

My oracle deck has 12 Myths/Legends, which each myth being represented in 4 cards: Hero, Advisor, Challenge, Desire

To show you, these are the 12 cards for the 3 myths, Amaterasu's Cave, Ishtar's Decent into the Underworld, and Panji Semirang.

Hero Cards (Laurel Wreath icon): These are usually characters of action and movement. The embody change, creativity, and the symbol of fire. While these are generally speaking more positive cards, there are a few that can lean more negatively. While I absolutely love Ishtar, her Ambition does not always endear her to the rest of her pantheon Advisor Cards (Eye Icon): These are characters of stability and advice. They embody intellect, the mind, and the symbol of wind. Again there are positive and negative cards. There is Introspection but also Gossip

Challenge Cards (Skull Icon): These are cards of opposition and confrontation. They embody emotion, volatility, and the symbol of water. While they tend to be more negative with traits like Envy and Greed, they can also be necessary like Sacrifice an Reckoning

Desire Cards (Heart Icon): These are cards of aspiration and hope. They embody the heart, wishes, and the symbol of earth. These are some of the more diverse cards, with desires ranging from the stability of a father figure, to a throne of power, to good time.

The 12 cards for the 3 myths The White Snake, The Industrious Daughter, and The Tale of Huathacauri

So I'll go over a little bit of my thought process for the names of these cards. Specifically you mentioned Amaterasu as the Ascend card, so I'll talk about that set. Originally when I was creating these cards my intention was to have each card named the name of the character/object. So, Amaterasu was going to be named Amaterasu, Ame no Uzume was going to be Ame no Uzume, etc etc. But when I started showing the cards to friends and family, the feedback I got was that the cards were extremely hard to use unless you were already innately familiar with each of the characters and their stories. This was really helpful, because I do want to encourage people to learn these stories--but I don't want to Assign Homework just so you can enjoy this oracle deck. I want anyone to be able to use this deck instantly, and if they want to learn more, there is a rich history for them to dive in to.

So that's when I started considering Titles for each of the cards, similar to many existing Oracle decks.

In summary in Amaterasu's Cave, the Sun Goddess Amaterasu (Hero) loves her weaver handmaiden (Desire) . This handmaiden is killed by Amaterasu's brother Susanoo (Challenge), which causes the grief stricken Amaterasu to hide in a cave. She eventually lured out by the charms and humor of the goddess Ame no Uzume. To start of easy, Susanoo and the handmaiden are clearly opposites of each other. The handmaiden is a weaver in Amaterasu's comfortable life and home, and so she represents peace and ORDER. Susanoo comes in and wrecks the harmony, causing CHAOS, ANARCHY and WRATH (I'm not sure which of these names I like best). Amaterasu, when she leaves her cave, ultimately represents the end of depression, moving on, and like a sun, ASCENDING once again. Although a better name might be REJUVENATION, RECOVERY, or maybe RE IGNITE to get more of the sun imagery in there again. It's tough to find a good single word for "I-was-too-depressed-to-get-out-of-bed-but-I-am-getting-better-and-now-I'm-ready-to-go-outside-again" But if you know one please tell me! Lastly there is Ame no Uzume, who is that friend that reminds you life is still worth it by showing you all the fun and beauty in the world. I originally called her REJUVENATION, but she might be better described as CELEBRATION, or JOY as it is her party that brings Amaterasu out of hiding. She can also be seen as a representation of a healing S-xWorker, as it is specifically her hilarious and lewd striptease that calls to Amaterasu.

But lastly let me also talk about the 5th and last suit of the oracle deck, the suit of Symbols

Symbol Cards (Star icon): These 12 cards are symbols that show up repeatedly in multiple myths and fairy tales from around the world. I wouldn't go so far as to call them Universal Symbols, because not every culture has every single one of these, but they are strong and impactful Archetypes.

For example The Forbidden is every box or door that we are told Not To Open. Some famous examples are Pandora's box, Cupid's Bed Curtain, or Bluebeard's Basement. While these things are expressly off limits, these are often lines we will need to cross in order to learn or grow. We just also have to realize there will be consequences.

The naming for these ones is really easy, as they will all be "The Noun"

All told there will 60 cards (12 myths with 4 cards each, and 12 symbol cards) If you're interested in following along, I recommend joining my monthly newsletter! I put updates there and will keep everyone apprised of publishing news

[okkotsuus]

we all still die (satoru g.) !

features: satouru g.

contents: general tw. jjk manga spoilers (shibuya). angst. blood. death. kidnapping. blindfolds. death threats. narcissism. imprisonment. major character death (it’s not gojo). curses. trial. fear. crying. fighting. yelling. animal death. graphic descriptions. heartbreak. grief. ego death. inspired by willow tree march by the paper kites. 3.6k words

tagging: @king-of-dreamers

the tags are a doozy but i promise it's really not that bad...

gojo satoru was the strongest and the strongest was satoru gojo.

he was the peak of jujutsu society, of this era, of this world even. but you? you were so incredibly average that it almost disgusted him. you, y/n l/n, his classmate in his first year of jujutsu tech.

with a technique like yours, you were destined for greatness, your life was served to you on a silver platter. yet, you were so plain, so unassuming, so underwhelming,

gravitational manipulation, it was a technique from your family line that hadn’t been born into this world for the last thousand years. it was created back in jujutsu’s golden age: when sukuna and greats still roamed this earth. it was the mark of myth and legend, it was a shining light in jujutsu. but it was you who possessed it.

boring, unimaginative you. gojo was angry, because he too was a child of miracle, he was just like you. yet, the two of you were so different. he doubted that he was more different than anyone else.

he first meets you at school he’s loud and boisterous as he introduces himself. he knows who he is, and he is proud. “heya! i’m satoru gojo, who’re you?” his eyes peek over the rims of his sunglasses that are far too dark to see out of, they’re a blue that you’d never seen in this life.

“y/n l/n.” your answer is gruff and meek at the same time, hands shoving into your pocket as your back hunches to remove his sparkling pools of eyes from your view. gojo takes all offense to this.

he is the prime of jujutsu society. yet you do not even look at him, like some form of insubordination he feels a bitter spitefulness curl in his chest. you, this meek thing, dares to be so uncourteous to the pillar of jujutsu. gojo has one hell of an ego on him by the age of fifteen.

at this point, he decides he doesn’t like you. later on, yaga makes everyone introduce themselves and their techniques.

“suguru geto and i use curse manipulation.”

“ieiri shoko, i use reversed curse technique.”

“satoru gojo, bearer of the six eyes and limitless!” his eyes shift over to you, wanting to see that shock and awe that he got from the other two. but it never came. your hands stayed deep in your uniform pockets as you stared down at the ground, his blood boiled in a way it never had before.

you didn’t go to speak, until yaga prompted you. “y/n l/n, gravitational manipulation.” your eyes finally looked up from through  the shadow of your downcasted face. e/c eyes like unpolished gems, matte but such potential to glow.

gojo’s mouth flopped open like a fish, you, this meek thing. was also a miracle? in a semblance of something that was almost ego death, gojo realized that not everyone with power was like him. that was the first day that you entered staoru gojo’s radar.

satoru gojo sees you first use your technique in combat only a week later. you were assigned a solo mission, which he forcibly tagged along on, insisting you needed his help. satoru gojo has been a special grade sorcerer since practically the day he was born. so why were you, a second grade who’s name is not known to the world, assigned solo missions that even he is not privy to?

satoru gojo experiences true fear for the first time that day. he stands beside you watching as you stare at a curse, hands still comfortably concealed. the curse is writhing on the ground, letting out strangled chitters as it is crushed under some sort of invisible force. or rather, by gravity. it’s as if it is compressing, being contorted into some sort of compacted form that is so miserably small he begins to wonder if this is actually you doing this, with how you were, this couldn’t be you. 

the curse dies and before blinking, your eyes slide over to him, for the briefest moment gojo feels this crushing weight on his form. he is sent tumbling to his knees, but then it’s immediately gone. blood comes rushing from between his lips as tears are squeezed from those crystalline eyes. his entire body shakes, as if he had just bore the heaviest weight of all time, as if he was atlas bearing the weight of the world.

from this position, the first time he’d ever knelt before another, his eyes truly meet yours for the first time. in those endless, hollow pools of e/c, he sees a guilt swim. in your pockets your fists ball, you stalk off without him. a muttered apology is lost in the wind and the swirling of thoughts in the white-haired boy’s head.

this is the day that you become more than just a blip on satoru gojo’s radar. you become more than just another body in the room with him. you become known in his mind, you become y/n l/n to him.

you don’t see him for a week, avoiding him in some sort of guilty haze. gravitational manipulation was activated ocularly, which is why you tried your best to not look at people. lest you end up with accidental activation and another mangled body on the floor.

your curse claims its first life at the age of six, the day it manifests. your bright e/c eyes slide across the room to meet the family dog, who had been avoiding you for the last couple of hours. excitement surges through you as you continue to look at your beloved pet. the dog lets out a loud yelp as it’s fur is suddenly matted with blood, mangled as if smashed like a bug under a shoe.

a scream parts your lips as tears well in your eyes, obscuring your vision. a servant comes rushing in and when your eyes meet hers, she bears the same fate. squashed like a ketchup packet. your walls are red, your vision is red, everything is red.

but then your vision goes black, you feel a sharp pain in the side of your neck as a rough cloth is wrapped around your eyes. everything is foggy in this memory. all you know is that you woke up in complete darkness, that rough sheet of fabric wound tightly around your head.

you’re roughly grabbed as you are dragged into some sort of room, a faint candlelight seeps into the gaps of your blindfold, but you are unable to see anything but those amber splotches in the corner of your vision.

“let the records state that this is the trial to determine whether l/n y/n is a threat to jujutsu society, and whether they will be allowed to live.” blood pounds in your ears as you sit there, trying to soothe yourself by rocking back and forth. you are just six, a small child, yet you have killed about five people by know. you don’t remember any killings but that of the dog and your servant, but apparently it happened when you were being transported here.

you don’t remember much of the trial, only blips of shouting. you didn’t speak once, just sat there and sniveled, you are only six. what did they expect, for you to bed for your life? you hadn’t even lived yet, there was nothing for you to beg for. you had nothing to live for.

all you remember was being picked up from under your arms and being taken away by a large body, they were warm. so warm. you fell asleep almost instantly after contact.

you wake up without the blindfold on your face, your eyes open to see for the first time in nearly a week. everything is blurry before it focuses. the room is dim, a boring concrete box with one metal door. candles burn on the walls like some sort of medieval passageway.

when you stir, a smaller metal door opens and a rabbit hops in. your eyes shift to it and immediately it’s crushed, tangled and matted just like your dog. it’s leg twitches one last time before it dies.

a shriek rips from your dry throat, echoing in this cement boc as it reverberates and pierces your own ears.

a voice rings out, with no visible source. “y/n l/n, you will not leave this room until you can look at a human without instantly crushing them.”

they stayed true to their word. it took three weeks until you could look at a rabbit without killing it. two weeks for a cat. three weeks for a dog. four weeks for a monkey. after those three months you were allowed to look at a human, they sent the person in and they fell to their knees, blood pooling out of their mouth. but they did not immediately die. they later died of injuries, but it was not instant. so you were allowed to see the sun for the first time in three months. now, you were seven years old, spending your birthday in that miserable room.

you remained in the facility for seven more years. everyday you trained, you learned just how much pressure was needed to kill various species, from a fly to a human. it was ingrained into your mind. you learned how to target, how to crush a specific organ or body part. you became some sort of auto-kill machine. they also taught you how to reduce your own gravity, to reduce gravity on weapons. you became a soldier. you figured out that if you manipulated your gravity close enough you could fly. that was your favorite, it was the only time in your life where you had felt free.

you were freed under order of jujutsu officials, forced to go to a jujutsu high school so that they could perfect you into a weapon for the higher-ups. all your life that’s what you have been, a weapon.

but now, a week after nearly killing him, gojo satoru stands in front of you. he proclaims that if you were to use the full force of your technique that you wouldn’t kill him. he proclaims that his technique surpasses yours. you want to believe him, you really do. but you have too many bodies under your heel to take the risk.

“y/n l/n, you cannot kill me as i am right now!”

you shake your head and go to leave, but he catches you around your elbow, like a hook for him with your habit of keeping your hands concealed. your head spins and you lock eyes with him, delivering a slight force to try to get him to let go, but he does not budge. unlike last time, he stands strong, he remains unflinching, he remains the satoru gojo you had heard so much about.

your eyes widen as your heartbeat thunders in your ears.the pressure keeps increasing as you ready yourself to instantly cancel if needed, but he does not relent, he does not fall. the ground around him is cracking and crumbling inwards but he stands tall and true. you release, feeling your entire body lose tension, for the first time in seven years you feel your gaze soften.

you lower your gravity as you begin to float up, he remains hooked onto you, coming upwards with you. when jujutsu tech looks like a dollhouse, you stop ascending, choosing to stare at the boy in front of you.

this is the day that you recognize satoru gojo. as the burden of always being the strongest slips off your shoulders and onto his, you are truly free for the first time in your fifteen years of life. your hands leave your pocket as you hold his cheeks in your palms, limitless was turned off long ago as you lowered his gravity too.

your eyes meet his own and you feel a warmth spread in your chest.

“thank you satoru gojo, for lifting the burden of strength off my shoulders.” his eyes widened, those empty eyes of yours glimmered in the unfiltered sunlight like gemstones, shining and pure. your palms are warm against his cheeks, he cannot help but lean into your touch, like a cat.

that was the day satoru swore he would be the strongest, for the both of you. not for the world, not for the non-sorcerers, but for you. to keep this free euphoria splayed across your cheeks, to keep this warmth in his heart.

satoru gojo swears that you will not have to carry the burden of being the strongest ever again.

gojo satoru was the strongest and the strongest was satoru gojo.

but we all still die.

gojo is now a teacher as he stands here, staring at you as you stand in front of him with that smile on your face. he can’t shake the sense of foreboding he feels as you look at him with all that love in your eyes.

he can’t help but hold you a little tighter and kiss you a little harder as he goes off to shibuya to address the command for his presence. he was to go off first, and you were to trail a pace behind him. after satoru gojo, you were the strongest. you two would be able to resolve this all on your own, and additional forces would be sent in to clear lower grade curses while you dealt with the master minds together.

that was how it was supposed to go.

gojo stands in front of suguru geto, not seeing him as he is behind the sorcerer, you stand a pace behind him, slowing as you take in the man who had died last year. he was a dead man walking, talking, and fighting. your heart stops as you watch the prison realm open. your blood runs cold as those shackles you thought had escaped you clamp tight again over your neck, choking the words that are about to part your lips.

“yo! satoru !!”

“huh?”

“it’s been a while.”

in that brief moment that it takes for gojo to turn and process his best friend, one minute passes in his mind, you know what is going to happen. but you refuse to accept it as you spring forwards to try to shove your beloved out of the way, but it’s too late.

prison realm wraps its tendrils around the man you love and in that moment you feel the manacle around your neck tug you back up like a noose. you are pulled back up to your title as the strongest as you feel satoru’s cursed energy cease. it chokes you as tears slide down your cheeks, escaping from eyes that the light has yet again died in.

“c’mon now satoru. are you letting your mind wander during a fight?” you watch as gojo desperately tries to push out the fainest shred of cursed energy, but fails. you take your hands out of your pockets and hold them together, focusing on generating the cursed energy into a single point. if you were going to be forced to be the strongest, you were going to die with the title while fighting for the man who took that burden off your shoulders for seven years of your life.

“domain expansion: black hole” your eyes are completely black as they lock onto the body of suguru geto, a singularity swimming in the palm of your hand as the domain curls around the two of you. you can hear the shouts of gojo but you ignore him, if you had to die for this world, maybe you would finally fulfill the path that was served to you on a silver platter at birth.

your domain is pitch black other than the singularity in your hand, it has a ring of light around it. there is one moment before it activates and you take this moment to whisper out a final goodbye. “thank you for freedom, satoru, let us meet in the next life.”

you are in your second year in high school when you tell gojo everything. everything: the facility, your past, and the secret of your technique. there was a reason why it had not been born for the past thousand years. there is no other body suitable.

the technique is used ocularly, but it reaches it’s climax when activated with the hands. the technique is cursed to kill when it is used with the hands, to follow in the fate of its creator. chiyoko l/n died when using the technique with their hands, forming a black hole when fighting amaterasu. it sucked up both themself and a portion of the god, which is what allowed the cursed technique to be able to pass on to the next generation despite its creator having no heir.

this technique was known as black hole, appropriately named. it was the strongest cursed technique in history, but it would always kill its barer. there was no way to survive the use of black hole, it is a desperate last-ditch attempt to save a life other than your own. chiyoko used it to try to save the earth from amaterasu’s wrath, and now you use it to try to save the world and the man you love from the thing pretending to be suguru geto.

memories of the former bearer flood your mind before activation. and you are able to recognize the man in front of you. noritoshi kamo, known under the alias of kenjaku. the scum of the jujutsu world. 

but you weren’t the only one who was allowed a moment of peace before activation. kenjaku knew the incarnation of chiyoko l/n walked this earth, and when he gained suguru geto he knew that they would come rushing in with satoru gojo. so he planned accordingly.

after chiyoko l/n rose to fame, a cursed object was created to combat them, but it was never able to be tested, as they died at their own hands against the sun god. pocket space, a single-use item that allows the user to briefly relocate to a pocket dimension for exactly 0.2 seconds.

suguru geto smashed into the orb and he’s gone, your eyes widened as you desperately try to shut off your technique. but it’s hunger is relentless. you feel true pain for the first time in your life as a scream is ripped from your throat, the sound is eaten by the black hole, along with the left half of your torso. it shuts off, but not quick enough to spare you.

the domain crumbles around you as your flop onto the ground, weakly sitting up to lock eyes with satoru gojo, who is crying for the first time in years. you feel your life seeping out of the gaping hole in your side where your heart once was.

“guess i really am the strongest, huh?” a cough thunders out of your mouth as blood spatters the floor in front of you. a single drop of the warm, thich substance slides down gojo’s cheek as he stares dead at you. you stare at him with that damned smile on your face as blood drips from the corners of your mouth.

suguru geto reappears as you turn to him, still smiling. “take care of his body, kenjaku, satoru will need something to bury when this is all over.” the curse laughs and idly nods, kicking you down against the ground and watching as the blood seeps out of you like a burst pipe.

gojo does not speak as he watches the light leave your eyes, all he does is shake like a leaf in the wind. kenjaku steps on your back as he hears you wheeze, gojo goes to try to defend you but he is unable to move even an inch as he is forced to remember the situation at hand.

the love of his life and the most important person to him is dying in front of his eyes, he is about to be sealed for possibly forever in an inescapable dimension. and there is nothing that he can do to stop it.

for the first time in his life, satoru gojo experiences a true ego death as his world dies on the ground in front of him. life pooling out of their side.

gojo satoru was the strongest and the strongest was satoru gojo.

but if that was true, why are you dead on the floor in front of him, why is he trapped, why is he powerless to this all? why can’t he do anything? why is this happening?

he isn’t allowed to steep in his thoughts as suguru geto approaches. smile on the face of what was once his best friend.

“good night, satoru gojo. let us meet again in the new world.”

everything goes black as the prison realm seals in on him and the final thought that satoru gojo has in this world is simply: “why?”

okkotsuus 23

[zorishy]

Symphony of Gods and Dreamers (DSMP AU)

🟢 DSMP (sorry for bad grammar, this was mostly just me vomiting my ideas onto the post)

My DSMP au makes the world so much bigger and full of life than canon.

The arctic empire from SMP earth exists, hypixel is a whole kingdom, the bear SMP exists and that’s where Niki is from, the wreckage of tales from the SMP locations can be found in the woods, places from fanfics such as the blue valley are very important to the story. The story takes place over a much longer period of time, the L’Manberg revolution alone lasts several years! Dream is like 50! He was an adult before Wilbur was even born. Tommy and Tubbo had families before being adopted by Philza, but they were killed by Dream’s armies in their quest to conquer the world. Dream stole the revival book from Kristin decades ago.

Dream is a tyrant and a cult leader with armies and followers dedicated to his mission to control as much of the world as possible. The DreamSMP is a continent that Dream has discovered and, at the beginning of the events of the server, it has small townships spread around the woods that are full of people gathering resources for colonies. The original L’Manberg members were followers of Dream who had begun to question his power.

Las Nevadas is not just one street with some restaurants and a casino! It’s a massive fucking city with hundreds of thousands of citizens, they have communities and schools and farmer’s markets, It’s the first city in the SMP with paved roads! Snowchester is a cosy little college town up north surrounded by mountains. Students from schools in Snowchester and Las Nevadas go on field trips to L’Manberg and Eret’s castle. The center of the SMP is this huge historic town kept in top condition by volunteers dedicated to preserving the history of the land.

Kinoko Kingdom was built by natives of the SMP and can be found deep within the forest. The people of the kingdom have myths and legends of a time when dragons and demons and gods roamed the earth. When Sapnap showed up, being half demon, they worshipped him and made him their ruler.

There is an entire cult that worships DreamXD! every few hundred years XD selects a member of his cult to give godhood to (Techno, Foolish, and Callahan are amongst those selected). DreamXD is older than the universe itself and has witnessed the rise and fall of countless worlds. Several SMP members were gods in their past lives and knew XD personally (some relationships were more positive than others). That’s why XD is so infatuated with George and so hateful of Bbh.

Characters like Puffy, Antfrost, and Sam are just single individuals who are members of entire original species. Ranboo was born a prince in the end but his people were driven out. The nether was accidentally discovered by cultists and legend says that’s where the demons came from.

My vision of the SMP has grown far beyond a Minecraft roleplay. I wish I could tell you everything but that would take way too long to write. For now I’m just focusing on Wilbur and the other bursonas. I can’t possibly talk about every single character and that makes me mad. Maybe in the future I will go into more detail on sbi and DreamXD.

[ladyjuquia]

sorry if this is a bit invasive, but im just curious, I was wondering what made you like Tristan so much? also, which one did you like first, the one from fgo or the one from the original myths.

Hopefully this doesn't come off as rude or anything cause I'm not trying to be! if it does I'm sorry

Hey there! Thank you for your message! And don’t worry, it isn’t invasive at all! I get this Question actually quite often, haha!

Why do I like Tristan this much?

- It all started when I had my first FGO Account. It was a JP Account and it was back then when the Camelot Chapter recently released and the Tristan Banner was out. I went in the Banner blindly since I didn’t knew how anything works, haha. Then after Tutorial I rolled and Tristan was the very first card I got. I remember this well because I was so excited, haha. I asked my friend back then who this is and when I heard it was Tristan I was like „From Tristan and Isolde?!“ it made me very excited, since I knew the Opera. The Story of Tristan and Isolde is quite popular here! With that, Tristan became my very first Servant. I call it „Fate“ (no pun intended, maybe). Over the years I focused on other characters more but Tristan always stayed one of my favourites until it grew stronger. That’s why in my Yumeshipping it’s also Friends to Lovers. A fateful summoning where they liked each other from the beginning but love bloomed only after a while! So the fact he was my first Servant also already did a lot. Sadly I don’t have the original first account not anymore. But he came back quickly as you see in my current accounts!

In general, I love Tristans whole personality and especially how natural he feels. He deals with lots of Trauma and Depression and while his „catchphrase“ is „I am so sad“ that’s not the only thing he is. He is silly and funny, serious and cool, gentle and caring. To me he is everything I love in a person. I feel comfortable thinking of him, it gives me so many warm feelings. I am a Dreamer by nature and Tristan feels like he always lived in my dreams. Also I love how much research was done in his writing! Many people would expect only Malory or Wagner, since they are the most popular. But in Tristans Writing you can recognise all the different tales and sources. I think Higashide wanted to handle Tristan like Joseph Bedier which I appreciate so much! He feels like a love letter to the legend! I love everything about him, his looks, his way of speaking, his fighting style, his personality, he is perfect for me, in my eyes.

Which one did you liked first, the one from FGO or the one from the original Myths?

- To be honest, FGO. While I was familiar with the Story I always saw „Tristan and Isolde“ as one Story and never thought much about the characters separately. FGO was the first one where I viewed Tristan as separate character, I am really grateful for that. Analysing Tristan in my free time became one of my hobby’s, weird as it sounds, haha. I just love reading the sources and writing my own thoughts all over again. It’s lots of fun! So I am grateful for FGO making me meet Tristan and how FGO treats Tristan not just as part of Isolde but as his own Character. I appreciate this so much.

Thank you once again for the message! It was so much fun to answer it! I hope you have a lovely day!

[thedreamworldlibrary]

WTDW: Pokémon AU Dreamers of Myths and Legends BTS

Hi guys! NOT a new chapter, but I was bored and watched videos of "leaks" about Pokémon ZA and other news for Pokémon Day that I decided to share some behind the scenes like cut stuff and lore. I figured this would be an interesting post while you guys wait for the next chapter!

Here is some interesting Fun Facts:

When I was planning for the starters for the Founder Trio, I wanted them to have the Hissuian Starters. However, I changed my mind last minute and gave them their own starters, mainly Starter Pokémon I liked.

Oliver was supposed to have a Torchic that would constantly peck everyone out of anger, but I changed it to Scorbunny since clips of Scorbunny in the anime, I figured Scorbunny was a perfect match for Oliver.

Prior to Piplup's debut. I did want to give Sara an Oshawott since Sara is my favorite character and Oshawott is my favorite Pokémon. Decided on Piplup because Dawn's Piplup in the anime and how I wanted to wait until we got the Legends ZA starters.

Speaking of, when Pokémon Legends ZA was revealed I wanted to give those sets of starters to Pen, Audrey, and Hayden. However, while working on the ideas for future chapters and no news of ZA I decided to give the Minimum Wage Trio ( @saltyr3mix gave them that name) the Hissuian Starters.

I still plan on using the ZA Starters, but that's unclear at this time.

The series takes place 3-4 years after Ash's adventure in the anime. It's unclear if Horizons is connected with Ash's journal, but if it is, all the stuff in Horizons is taking place WHILE Wiatt and his friends are doing their journey.

Team Rocket was planned last minute as a joke. I needed some villains for Wiatt and his friends to block their way, but Litho and Carlos are too serious to appear and cause trouble, so I thought...what if Team Rocket came back! BEST decision I ever made!

Now here is some planned content. I wanted this in a separate post, but because this is planned and it could be cut I figured sharing it on here.

I have a plot on how Ash would meet Wiatt and his friends. I'm still planning on what Ash has been doing since he left the spotlight, but he has aged up being 14-15 years old now and many of his Pokémon have evolved.

I do also plan for Wiatt and his friends to meet Liko, Roy, Dot, and the rest of the Brave Olivine. However, I'm debating if it should take place during the Japanese airings or just the English airings. Since the Japanese airings a TON of stuff came out.

And that's it for the random Behind the scenes lore and content! I was just bored and need to finish up a chapter of a fanfic, but I figured working on this for the time being.

[sad-lullabee]

🌌 The 1820s Bohemians: Dreamers, Rebels, Revolutionaries 🌌

It’s wild to think that it all began around 200 years ago. The 1820s were a decade of upheaval and awakening—a period when artists, thinkers, and creators dared to break free from convention, pushing back against a rapidly industrializing world. This is where the seeds of the Bohemian lifestyle were planted, fueled by a need to slow down, to feel, and to live deeply.

🔥 Social Critique & Radical Ideas

The industrial era had arrived in full force, transforming lives but at a steep cost. Factory work, long hours, and dehumanization became the new normal. For Bohemians, this was the ultimate betrayal of human freedom and expression. They looked at these societal shifts with skepticism, voicing concerns over labor rights and the crushing effects of industrialization. Their response? A radical critique of a system that prioritized machines over souls, urging a return to simplicity, nature, and authenticity.

🎨 Romanticism: The Heartbeat of the Movement

Emotion, nature, individuality—this was the lifeblood of Romanticism, and 1820s Bohemians were the earliest adopters. Gone were the rigid, neoclassical standards; instead, artists embraced spontaneity and intensity. They craved a deeper connection to nature, seeing it as both mirror and muse—a canvas for their passions and dreams.

Their art became a celebration of love, beauty, and the human spirit, no longer tied to myths or heroic legends but rooted in personal experience. To the Bohemian, life itself was a work of art, meant to be lived as freely and beautifully as possible.

🖋️ Literature & the Search for Self

The 1820s saw a surge in writing that explored the depths of human experience. Think Lord Byron’s dark allure or Mary Shelley’s boundary-breaking Frankenstein—works that wrestled with complex identities, existential fears, and the power of the unknown. Literature became a playground for self-discovery, a place to ask, Who am I? What do I truly want?

In the words of thinkers like Rousseau and Kant, Bohemians found a philosophical foundation for their ideals. Rousseau spoke of the beauty of natural freedom and the chains of society, while Kant delved into the mysteries of perception, beauty, and the sublime. Their ideas pushed Bohemians to embrace personal freedom, question norms, and trust their own minds and hearts.

🕰️ Remnants of the Past, Echoes of Today

Looking back, it’s clear: the struggle remains. Even now, we wrestle with the demands of modern life, craving a slower, simpler, and more meaningful existence. Like the Bohemians of the 1820s, we long to push back—to reclaim our time, our nature, our selves. As Ted Kaczynski and others have highlighted, the need for balance, for a return to something more real, is timeless.

To be Bohemian is to seek a different rhythm—a choice to live on our own terms, where art and thought breathe freely.

[proto-jenna]

Been seeing a lot of Rayman headcanon posts, so I thought I'd share mine. This is about his world, and a few characters within it.

First off, every game is essentially a new universe. When the current god entity of the universe dreams, those dreams manifest into reality. Each dream is different from the last, but often similar. Similar enough that Rayman returns every time, but not necessarily everyone or everything else. Each time the universe changes, some things go missing, some things are added, and a lot of things change. None of the characters know this, and they go from game to game, universe to universe, blissfully unaware that anything changed.

For example, Rayman knows Betilla in R1. But in R2 Polokus dreams that Betilla is now Ly, and as far as Rayman remembers, she was always Ly. R3 rolls around, and Rayman has no recollection of either of them because they don't exist in that universe (I don't count Ly's statue easter egg, unless we're trying to make sense of Razorbeard's easter egg too). In Origins, suddenly Betilla's back and it's like she was there the whole time, now she's the one who created Rayman. Ly becomes a forgotten dream, someone nobody was sure ever existed.

Similarly, Polokus and the Bubble Dreamer are different iterations of the same god-entity whose dreams define the world. In R1 and RRR, the god-entity's dream didn't give itself a physical form, and instead is the world itself... or the heart of the world. I also think the god-entity intentionally avoided having a physical form to avoid the wrath of the rabbids.

In R3, the god-entity takes a low-profile physical form that no one would suspect: Mawpaws! Think about it, they can fly to seemingly anywhere, they're big and majestic, sparse and mysterious, and they're always magically there to pick you up if you fall (except for the final boss, which has the ONLY death pit in the entire game). I don't have any evidence for this one, I'm just Mawpaw-kin so I had to include this somewhere in here XD

On a related note, there is a canon connection between Rayman's world and our world, thanks to RRR2. I think Polokus and the Bubble Dreamer are also direct connections to our world, in that they are representations of the dev team; the irl people who literally dream up Rayman's world and make it a reality.

I also think the Magician(s) in Origins/Legends is another iteration of the Magician from R1. Initially I thought he might be another version of Mr Dark, but both the final and scrapped plot don't really support that. I think the Ales Mansay version of the Magician is just a teensie now. Why? Because the Bubble Dreamer dreamed it, and as far as anyone remembers, he was always a teensie. And also probably for the same reason that all playable characters besides Rayman and Globox are teensie re-skins in Origins; because the dev team focused their time and money on making levels, environment art, and fluid controls rather than fleshing out the world and its inhabitants... er, I mean because the Bubble Dreamer only had so much mental energy to dream, and spent it all on the world itself so all friendlies are teensies now.

I think a lot of friend characters don't show up after their debut game because they're never dreamt of again in the constantly changing universe. I think the Bubble Dreamer is always dreaming new things, so inevitably some dreams end up forgotten. In the same way that devs were probably encouraged to come up with new whimsical worlds and creatures to inhabit them with each new game, rather than bringing every minor character back over and over. All of this to say that Uglette and the Globox kids were forgotten dreams, since she was cut from the final game.

Which means, in Origins/Legends, Globox and Rayman are lovers. Sorry, I don't make the rules. They share the same conception of life in polite society, their taste in music, dance, and the arts in general. A friendship grew to legend, and a legend grew to myth. Nothing could keep these two apart. No one gets THAT close to someone without exploring each other's bodies, come on.

[void-ink-studios]

Myth of the Wishmasters - Part 1

Alrighty folks, here we go.

Part 1 of the finale to Wrath of the Wishmaster.

It's been a really wild ride writing this fic for y'all. Honestly, it's the most fun I've had writing fic in a long time. But, I don't want to keep pushing to the point of me hating it. So, I'm going to give this fic the send off it deserves, and let it be my first truly complete work.

Will I come back to this?

Probably.

But I can't keep writing 2,000+ word chapters every day. I'm out of ideas for now, and I'm not going to force it. If I come up with more ideas, I'll happily come back and write them as one-shot accompaniment to this series.

Until then, as always, I hope you enjoy this and the next chapter. It's been a fun go around.

Full credit to @realmofthefirebird for inspiration. Go check out their comics, they're flipping awesome.

Word Count: 3,000

They speak in legends, in tomes, in myths, of the one called the Wishmaster.

At the beginning of it all, in the Age After Nothing, there emerged the one called the Wishmaster.

In the center of everything, in the center of nothing, there is the Time Room, keeper of the one called the Wishmaster.

In a place at the center of time, in a place where time cannot touch, there is the one called the Wishmaster.

It is a god of no equal. It is a god of many names, in many forms. But it is always the one called the Wishmaster.

How one meets the Wishmaster may very. It takes something powerful, something capable of building a bridge into the void. But all require a piece of the Eternal Dream, for it is the Dream that is the threads of the Void. Objects with fragments of the Dream are the most reliable vector to crossing into the Void.

In its current form, it calls itself Prismo. The Almighty Prismo is a kind spirit. An aloof one. He does not exist in the way you or I may think of it. For he is not a being of physical form. No, the Almighty Prismo has no need for physicality. For he is but an extention of the Time Room itself. He is the Time Room, and the Time Room is he.

He is the walls and floors, the ceiling and corners. He is everything, and he is nothing. He is everywhere and nowhere. He is infinite, and he is nothingness.

The Almighty Prismo can almost be mistaken for someone mortal. He does not act with malice to those who seek him, but he will give little favor. Those who do, the most powerful and persistent amongst mortals, might find themselves communing with gods.

The Almighty Prismo, the one called the Wishmaster, offers the same bargain to any who find his domain, his domain of the Time Room.

One wish, anything your heart desires, you may ask of him. And he will make it so.

But do beware, wish makers.

Realities may warp or split or merge, people and objects may shuffle through time and space, memories, lifetimes, erased or rewritten forever. But he will make it so.

For while Almighty Prismo is not a cruel god, he is a tricky one. Any wish lacking detail, he will fill the gaps. And lapse in thinking, and forgotten factor, and unforeseen consequence, he shall consider. To those he favors, he may advise. To those he doesn't?

Well, you will receive what you wish for.

Whether or not you can live with that is not a trouble for the Almighty Prismo.

He is the crossroads, the boundary, the space between it all.

And when the name Prismo grows tiresome, it will be cast away, and the one called the Wismaster will take a new name. For the Wishmaster is eternal. For the Time Room must have a Wishmaster.

The Wishmaster is the era is Prismo.

Who it shall be the next?

Only the Dreamer can decide.

---------------------------------------

Prismo had long ago accepted that he wasn't meant to be a being a wants.

He thought about what it'd be like to want things. It was his job to grant the wants of others, it was only natural to wonder what he would do in their position.

Some wished for power. They wished to be kings or queens or emperors. They wished to be at the top of their pile, unstoppable, unquestioned. They wished to be the one sitting at the top of the tower, smiling down at all the peasants, waving in smug satisfaction.

Prismo had no desire for power. He had everything he'd need right here. He could conjure almost anything he could think of. He was already near the top of the pile if how everyone talked about his was any indication. The only ones who could override him were the Higher Ups, Golb, and the Boss themselves. And well... he had no desire to usurp or overtake them. Just listening to the Organizer describe even a part of her job exhausted him. All powerful Wishmaster or not, he still had a mortal brain. It was incomprehensible to him, to be a Higher Up. Honestly, it was a big mind boggling even being in this position.

So, no, he wouldn't wish for power.

Some wished for wealth. They wished for mountains of gold or jewels. They wished to be head of the greatest company ever conceived. They wished to never have to worry about the cost of life ever again, and then some. Most wanted it as a ticket to power.

Prismo liked gold, that was true. He liked decorating himself with jewelry when he got the opportunity, he liked how it sparkled and glittered. But, he could just conjure it. He had no real need for wealth. Gold was meaningless to him, except in how it was pretty. He knew, even as a mortal, he'd never need the amount of gold that these wish makers were asking for. It was more than could be spent in a lifetime. More than could be spent in several lifetimes, even. And he didn't see the appeal.

So, nope, wealth wasn't it either.

People wished for so many things. Power and wealth were the most common, but they certainly weren't the only things.

People wished for love, they wished for family, they wished for health. Some wished for noble reasons, like Finn, trying correct a great evil, trying to save millions. Some wished for the pettiest things imaginable, like cursing a rival with sickness or pain.

And then there was Prismo.

A god who wanted nothing. Or, did he?

He never dwelled too deeply on the thought. It was a pointless endeavor, after all. His role as Wishmaster excluded him from wanting things.

So, he chose not to think too hard about it.

Until a certain roommate challenged that.

Because Scarab... Scarab made him want things. Prismo wanted Scarab, wanted his affection. Scarab made him think about what he wanted.

Prismo wanted to be friends with good people. He was done with being "everybody's pal." He was only that because he didn't want anything from anyone. But, now he wanted something. He wanted kindness. He wanted compassion. And he found out how little of it there was to go around within the pantheon.

Scarab made him think about what he wanted from his space. The unchanging Time Room had completely transformed with Scarab's help. Prismo felt... good in here. He felt good to call this place home, because now it actually felt like home. Because Scarab made him realize there were things that's make him more comfortable.

Prismo, the person, not the Wishmaster, wanted things.

And he realized he had everything he could want. At least with Scarab there, in his arms, chirping and purring in a warm bundle, in the soft glow of the magic clouds above them.

A small ring interrupted the quiet calm. A familiar sound, of something being conjured.

Prismo cracked an eye open, a single letter on the ground in the center of the Time Room.

"Lovebug" the Wishmaster whined.

"Hmm?"

"There's mail."

"So there is."

"Can you go get it?"

Scarab scoffed, rolling his eyes as he dislodged himself from the blanket pile. He picked the letter up, but froze as he read the address.

Prismo tilted his head.

"Lovebug?"

Scarab was frozen. Eerily still.

Okay, now Prismo was worried.

"Scarab?"

Scarab finally seemed to return to himself, looking at Prismo with wide, uncertain eyes.

"...It's from the Boss."

Prismo felt his stomach drop out from under him.

"...Excuse me?"

"It's from the Boss. Prismo, why are we getting a message from the Boss, what did we do?"

"I-I don't know man! Come here, open it!"

Scarab's hands were shaking, slowly opening the letter, with starkly simple writing.

To Prismo the Wishmaster and Caretaker Scarab,

Caretaker Scarab's position has been altered due to exceptional work and recommendation from a superior.

Caretaker Scarab's title has been updated from Time Room Caretaker, to Assistant Wishmaster. Responsibilities now include occasionally granting wishes under the supervision of Wishmaster Prismo. Continue upkeep of Time Room. Majority of wishes are still expected to be granted by Wishmaster Prismo. As a guide, for every 10 wishes granted, one may be granted by Assistant Wishmaster Scarab.

Assistant Wishmaster Scarab will remain in the Time Room until further notice.

The Organizer has advocated for this position change. While unorthodox, she does not petition me often, so I am inclined to believe it is after thoughtful consideration. I will be surveying your progress.

Do not make me regret this, Scarab. There has never been two Wishmasters at a time. Consider this a trial run.

Good luck,

-The Boss

The two gods stared at the piece of paper.

An unassuming piece of paper that just upgraded Scarab to one of the highest positions in the pantheon.

Granted, it was assistant, not full, but still!

"...Scrabby...?"

Prismo could see Scarab's form shaking, before he let out the loudest, most energetic chirp the Wishmaster had ever heard come from such a small body.

Scarab seemed to be honest to Glob dancing, hugging the piece of paper close to his chest. He turned to Prismo, eyes so wide, to match his smile, before running up and nearly flinging himself into his partner's chest, practically vibrating.

Prismo chuckled, catching the bug and holding him close, smiling and kissing the top of Scarab's head.

"PRISMO! PRISMO, I... I-I...!"

"I know, Lovebug, I know! You earned it, baby, you deserve every bit of it!"

Scarab seemed a bit lost in his own excitement, almost ready to cry, before his shoulders seemed to remind him of humility. He groaned as he rubbed at them, but not even that seemed to put a damper on his good mood.

"I'm so happy for you, Scarab. Two Wishmasters, hmm?"

"I-I know! It's unprecedented! It's never been done before, not even since Time began! I'd know, I checked." Scarab seemed to pace, his shell buzzing with excited energy.

"Tell you what, Lovebug. It said in the letter that in every 10 wishes, you should grant one. So, how about I grant the next nine, just to show you the ropes, and then you grant wish number 10! Give you some time to study, maybe start thinking of your own wish granting style before you give it a go. Sound good?"

Scarab considered before nodding sagely.

"Wish granting style?"

"Well, yeah. How you chose to interpret wishes. Most people who pass through here leave gaps in their wishes. It's up to the Wishmaster to fill in those gaps. How you choose to fill them sets the tone for who you are as a Wishmaster."

Scarab hummed, giving Prismo a studying look.

"Well... What is your style then?"

Prismo scooped Scarab up to let the beetle perch on his shoulder as he flipped on the screen wall.

"Well... I tend to approach it with a Monkey's Paw deal. The example I like to give is... What if you wished for a back rub? Who's giving you this back rub? An actual masseuse, a random sweaty guy, a bear? If the wish maker doesn't specify, I tend to fill in gaps in ways I find funny, mostly. Next question, where does this masseuse come from? Do I just spawn someone out of the either? Do I pull some random dude out of his reality, away from anyone and anything he knew? How is that universe's timeline effected with him gone?"

Prismo flipped through a few realities made from his wishes.

"This Farmworld here. It was made with good intentions. Finn wished for the Lich to have never existed. He didn't specify what exactly that meant for his reality. Did he mean the Mushroom War never happens? Did he mean for the Catalyst Commet containing the Lich to miss Ooo? The way I try to think of it is to preserve as much of the wish maker's original timeline as possible. Something that world altering gets separated and made into its own reality. I interpreted the wish as the Lich never getting to leave the Mushroom Bomb, as that leave most of the timeline intact, up until the 1000 years after the Lich's emergence. Keeps the threads more intact, rather than rewriting 65 million years if the Catalyst Commet missed, or rewriting that realities interaction with the cosmic timeline by deleting Catalyst Commets entirely."

Prismo turned to look at Scarab who was utterly transfixed.

"Make sense?"

"Yes, I think I understand your logic... Interpreting the wish in such a way that makes reality rewrite itself as little as possible."

"Exactly. Even then, it still needed to be isolated into a new reality. A lot of things happened in Ooo over those 1000 years, all of which are because the Lich emerged."

Prismo flicked through a few more timelines, explaining how those wishes were interpreted and the knock on effects they had.

"Prismo. Do you have something you'd consider a perfect wish?"

The Wishmaster thought.

"Hmm... Perfect wish? If it did happen, I wasn't Wishmaster when it did. 99% of the wishes that come through here are too simple. Too filled with gaps to ever go the way the Wish Maker intended."

Prismo thought a bit longer, pausing on Scarab's intense expression.

"I think... the most complete wish I ever granted was... actually a bit sad. They wished to be removed from their reality. Completely. They got pretty much exactly what they wanted. No one in their time line remembered who they were, all of their future accomplishments were distributed to other people, and they ceased to exist as a person, turning into some kind of... non-sentient cosmic wind I think. It was the most specific wording I've never gotten for a wish. Fewest gaps to be filled. But... I'm not sure I'd call it a perfect wish. It just seemed so..."

"...Depressing?"

"Yeah..."

The two sat in silence for a long moment. Scarab seemed to be in deep thought before nodding his head.

"Thank you, Prismo. I hope to learn a lot from you."

Prismo smiled, lightly nuzzling the side of Scarab's waist as the beetle purred.

And so, Prismo carried on, not thinking much of it. A perfect wish? It probably wasn't possible. Not in his tenure as Wishmaster at least.

So, he continued to teach.

He had to admit, Scarab was an avid learner. He took diligent notes, studied through countless realities Prismo had created, breaking down where and how the gaps in wishes were filled.

He watched, carefully, as Prismo granted the first wish since the new change.

The Wishmaster kind of felt bad that Scarab's first real observation was one of the most boring types of wishes. This one wished to be famous. No details on how that fame would be achieved, or if that fame was even positive.

Prismo wasn't malicious as a Wishmaster, but he wouldn't lie and say a little bit of bias didn't slip in depending on the Wish Maker's attitude. This one treated Prismo like an object rather than a person, and was very smug about even making it here.

So, Prismo granted the wish alright. He was certainly famous. Maybe it was for the most embarrassing speech and presentation of all time, but it was fame. His name would live on for a long time, that was for certain.

"I don't like how that one treated you" Scarab chittered from his corner.

"Yeah, well, you get some good ones and some bad ones. The bad ones I just send on their way. No real skin off my nose."

"...Does it not bother you when they don't seem to see... you?"

Prismo shrugged.

"I mean, what am if not the Almighty Prismo, the Wishmaster. No one sticks around long enough to care, so why should I?"

That didn't seem to sit well with Scarab, but the beetle dropped it for the time being.

As time ticked by, more and more wishes poured through.

A wish to make sure their town never went hungry again.

A wish to become king of the solar system.

A wish to make the love of their life never feel despair again.

All had their faults. All were granted accordingly. And Scarab was there, taking notes on it all. He observed, commented when the Wish Maker left, and noted on Prismo's explanations.

A few Wish Makers commented on Scarab's presence. The ones who were nice to the beetle might have found themselves with slightly more favorable interpretations, but no one needed to know that.

A wish to bring back a loved one from the dead.

A wish to be the most irresistible thing on the planet.

A wish to gain all the magical knowledge of the cosmos.

A wish for the ability to turn back time.

All came and left. All decided their own fates. Prismo had eventually forgot about Scarab's inquiry into what he'd consider the perfect wish.

Until the last wish before Scarab's trial run came and went. A bit anticlimactic in his opinion.

A wish to never die. Poor bastard didn't know what he was asking for with that one.

Scarab was quiet, his usual commentary suspiciously absent.

"Well, you think you're ready, Lovebug?"

Scarab hummed, tapping a pen onto the notebook, clearly deep in thought.

"Scarab?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I think so. But... well, I have one more question for you, Prismo."

The beetle was slow to rise, flicking through his notes one more time, before putting it all down.

"You remember, how I asked you if you had ever had a perfect wish?"

"Oh, yeah. Like I said, and like you probably saw, most of the wishes aren't super exciting. Was hoping for something a bit more... I dunno, showy for your first set, but not like I control what other people want."

"Right..."

Scarab seemed to hesitate.

"...You alright, Lovebug? Looks like you're about to pop, you're thinking so hard." Prismo chuckled as he curled around the beetle, nuzzling him softly.

But Scarab had a look. A dead serious one. He looked up at the Wish Master with... a conviction. A scary kind.

"...Prismo. What would you wish for?"

[wrongydkjquotes]

Guy: Look, mailmen are a myth, like any of these made-up legends. (pointing at board with pictures of unicorns, dragons, phoenixes, and narwhals)

Cookie: Guy, narwhals are real.

Guy: You mean, like, in your heart...where anything is possible?

Cookie: No, I mean like in the ocean where they swim and dive and exist.

Guy: Oh, Cookie. Always the dreamer-

Cookie: Mailmen, like narwhals, actually fucking exist, Guy.

(Source: Puck and Elvis, Breaking Cat News)

[chipsnkayso]

HP Rec Fest Day 11: an underrated fic

The Salt & The Sea by eurhythmix (@eurhythmix)

Narcissa/Lily | 2024 | M | 35k words

“I thought I warned you what would happen should you keep following me?” comes a hiss that makes Lily’s hair rise on end. “I recall well enough,” Lily laughs. “I simply chose not to heed the warning of a pirate.” Lightning flashes illuminating her captor from behind as their eyes lock. In a land overrun by raiders, ruffians and the all-around dastardly, Commander Lily Evans comes face to face with the myth, the legend, dread pirate Narcissa Black, third and most lethal daughter of the scourge of the Seven Seas, otherwise known as the Black Hǫnd. A fight to the death aboard Narcissa’s ship ends when the two are rudely swept overboard. Now, stranded on a deserted island, they must look back at their tumultuous (and rather titillating) past in order to face a future that’s closing in around them. Double-crossing, steamy beach-side rendevouz, magical flowers, excess of roguishness and starry-eyed dreamers. Prompt from Marauders Sapphic Spring Fling: A pirate hunter falls in love with a pirate.

This fic is amazing but it's underrated because it's for a rare pair. Everyone read it right now!!!!! Pirate Narcissa!Pirate Hunter Lily! Read it!

@hprecfest