#i think it's strange but i support true love in most of it's forms

[httpiastri]

have you heard about the ollie and Estelle drama and what do you think about it?

i have…… my take is that it's all just really weird. i hate people for going waaaaaay too far to get information about her just because she's dating an f2 driver, like pls get a hold of yourselves…. but her lying about her age? 🥴 it's one thing if she just never said anything about her age and ppl assumed, but she actually said several times that she's 21… and then she's 24/25? with an 18-year-old? hmmmm

[princesskenny1998]

Harry Potter | Draco Malfoy x Potter!Reader ~ Spite

Info: Alternate Universe

Starting at Hogwarts, it was an unspoken certainty that you and Harry were expected to be sorted together. Growing up as twins, the two of you were inseparable, and although you loved him fiercely, being constantly lumped together as “the Potters” could feel stifling. Still, you’d promised each other that you would face Hogwarts together.

But on the morning of your sorting ceremony, an argument with Harry about, of all things, a seating arrangement in the Great Hall, sparked something fierce between you. All the pressure and expectation came to a head, and your simmering frustration came out. After the bickering subsided, you left feeling frustrated and misunderstood, determined to assert your independence. In that defiant moment, a new, impulsive thought formed: what if you did something different? What if you made a choice that would shock everyone, including Harry?

When it was finally your turn to be sorted, you walked up to the Sorting Hat with your head held high and whispered, "I want Slytherin.”

The hat hesitated, as if it were reading into the motivation behind your words. "Slytherin?" it mused. "A bold choice… the potential is there, true, but you are loyal, clever, and brave, like your brother.”

“I don’t care. I want Slytherin.” Your voice left no room for argument. And with that, the hat’s brim split into a grin.

“Very well… SLYTHERIN!” it announced.

The hall filled with murmurs and surprised looks. You caught a glimpse of Harry, who was already seated at the Gryffindor table, looking at you in shock. Ignoring his gaze, you moved over to the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy, with his signature smirk, gestured for you to sit beside him. You met his smirk with one of your own, feeling a spark of satisfaction. This was your choice — your own path.

At first, befriending Draco was a way to add to your new, independent identity. He seemed eager to make friends with you too, given your famous last name and now that you were one of the few who had dared to do something unexpected.

“You know,” Draco drawled one afternoon, leaning back in his chair as you sat together in the library, “I think you might be the smartest Potter after all.”

“Just because I chose Slytherin?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Not just that,” he said. “There’s a streak in you that I admire — the courage to do things that nobody else would expect. That’s something most people here lack.”

Draco's confidence, which often came off as arrogance to others, began to feel strangely refreshing. He didn’t spend all his time worrying about what people thought; he simply was who he was. Over time, the friendship that started as a rebellious act became something genuine. You found yourself laughing with him, sharing secrets, and supporting each other through the challenges of Hogwarts. Draco introduced you to the complexities of Slytherin house, and you saw sides of him that others didn’t. Beneath the bravado, there was an honest, loyal friend who valued loyalty and ambition.

Harry and Ron didn’t understand it. They still saw Draco as the arrogant boy from a rival house, and Harry especially could barely hide his frustration whenever he saw the two of you together. He tried talking you out of it multiple times.

“I just don’t understand why you’d be friends with him,” Harry said one day after class, his tone bordering on pleading.

You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar annoyance bubbling up. “Maybe because he’s not as bad as you think, Harry. Maybe because you’re too busy judging him to see that there’s more to him.”

“Or maybe he’s using you,” Harry retorted. The accusation hurt, especially coming from your twin, and only fueled your resolve to prove him wrong.

Your closeness with Draco only grew, and by your fourth year, there was an undeniable spark between you. You tried to deny it at first, thinking it was simply a close friendship. But one late night, after everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself alone with him in the common room, talking about everything and nothing, and he took your hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before,” Draco admitted, his usual confidence wavering. You could see a vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely showed to anyone.

You squeezed his hand, your heart racing. “Neither have I,” you whispered.

From that moment on, your relationship shifted. You and Draco were no longer just friends; you were partners, in every sense of the word. Hogwarts could be isolating, especially for a Slytherin Potter, but with Draco, you had someone who understood you, who accepted your choice, and who valued you for who you were, not just your famous last name.

Of course, the news of your relationship spread quickly, and not everyone was pleased. Harry, in particular, found it difficult to accept.

“You’re dating Malfoy?” he asked incredulously one afternoon when you ran into him in the corridors.

“Yes, Harry, I am,” you replied, crossing your arms. You’d expected this reaction but were determined to hold your ground.

“But... he’s always hated us. He’s always hated me.” Harry’s voice was filled with confusion and hurt.

You softened, understanding that it was difficult for him to grasp. “Draco doesn’t hate me, Harry. He’s been there for me in ways you wouldn’t understand. Just because he doesn’t get along with you doesn’t mean he isn’t a good person.”

Harry looked like he wanted to argue, but he sighed instead. “I just… I worry about you.”

“I know you do,” you said, giving him a small smile. “But I can take care of myself. And Draco? He makes me happy.”

Over time, people started to adjust. While some Gryffindors, like Hermione, grew to respect your choice, others remained wary, still viewing Draco through the lens of rivalry. But you didn’t care; you were confident in your relationship.

Draco, too, was evolving. Being with you softened some of his rougher edges and gave him a new perspective on Hogwarts and the people in it. He still had his moments of arrogance, but with you by his side, he was learning to let go of some of the prejudices he’d grown up with.

One snowy afternoon, as the two of you strolled around the courtyard, you watched as he stopped to help a younger Hufflepuff who had dropped her books. The old Draco would have ignored her, but now, he gave her a nod and a small smile.

“You’re changing,” you said softly, watching him as he walked back over to you.

He shrugged, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I guess I have you to thank for that.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, grinning up at him. It was moments like these that made you feel truly proud of the choice you’d made.

In your sixth year, Draco took you to the Astronomy Tower after hours, the stars glittering above as he held you close. You had shared countless moments together, but this one felt special.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you this,” he said, his voice low and serious, “but I used to think that love was... a weakness. I thought it made people vulnerable.”

You looked at him, surprised. “And now?”

“Now, I think it’s the bravest thing anyone can do,” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours. “Loving someone is… well, it’s trusting them completely. And I trust you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you realized that this was exactly where you were meant to be — by Draco’s side, building a future together.

For the first time, Hogwarts didn’t feel like a battleground of family expectations or house rivalries. It felt like home.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The art of storytelling Act1

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“For you to pass this class you must tell me a story.”

The class chuckled at the teacher’s words but ceased as they saw the serious look on his face.

Araganath clasped his fingers as he looked at his students; the tips of his talons clicking against each other while his spider like eyes passed over the room. He was the only A’thulion at the institute and he used that to give himself an appearance of mystique. Students parted when he walked across the ceilings of halls even though he was well above them, dropped their discussions to hushed whispers as he approached, and most importantly to him lined up in droves to sign up for his class on “The Structure of Galactic Literature”.

The last bit he was rather fond of as not only did it insure his tenure but also hefted him a small bonus for each student that attended.

“What does the story have to be about?”

Araganath shrugged and waved his hands dismissively. “Any subject or theme is open; your main goal is to make me feel something. Do this and I will give you a passing grade for the entire year and you needn’t show up for another class; fail, and you will attend my class and learn the proper means of literary structure.”

This brought the desired bouts and whoops of excitement from his students as they prepared themselves for the challenge. Araganath smiled at this as he was about to deliver the “curve ball”, as they say.

“One last thing,” Araganath spoke as if just remembering, “you must tell me the story now; without any preparation or planning.”

The joyous smiles quickly faded from the students faces as they realized the trap he had laid. Many could no doubt tell a fantastical tale given enough time, but to give one on the spot? Many lacked the sharp wit and clarity of mind to concoct such a tale.

Motioned forward one at a time, the brave few that tried their luck were founding lacking.

“What good is a story if your character never faces any true peril? My offspring could do far better than that twaddle.”

“A sentient asteroid that loves to eat spaceships? Do I look like a child to you? Is this what you think entertains me?”

“Putting aside the fact you just made a justification for genocide, I will have you stay after class so we can have a word with the school director.”

Attempt after attempt was made and yet none could win over their unenthused teacher. His dozen eyes watched each as they spun their yarn and closed shut with disappointment. He never made them stop their story, he was fair enough to let them finish in their last chance to win him over, yet even with that extra rope all they did was hang themselves with one dimensional characters, painfully simplistic plot lines, and dreadful endings that left more answers than questions.

After about an hour only one potential challenger remained and stepped forward; a human transfer student by the name of Brian Craw.

 “This story is called “The wish and the snail”.” They began.

Araganath stifled a scoff but said nothing else as the student continued.

“In the far of desert of my homeworld called Earth some twenty thousand years ago, a man stumbled upon an ancient tomb filled with but a single treasure; a strange lamp of the purest gold resting atop a lone podium.”  

“The man went to the lamp and picked it up and rubbed it to make it shine when a gout of smoke emerged from the end. Falling backwards in surprise the man saw the smoke take form into the shape of a mighty Genie!”

“What is a Genie?” Araganath inquired.

“A being of immense magical power from my people’s folklore capable of granting any wish but at a terrible and often unforeseen cost.”

Araganath nodded for the student to continue now that his confusion had been dissipated.

“”Name any wish and I shall grant it!” the Genie spoke loudly. The man paused and thought about his options. He could wish to be free from this dessert, but he felt he could find his own way out if given another day. He could wish to be the richest man on the planet, but he could not carry his riches out of the dessert alone and if he brought others back there was no guarantee that they would not betray him.”

“Finally after much deliberating the man said “I wish to be immortal; to never feel pain or harm, to never age or feel the ravages of time, and to be free to live my life as I am now.”

“A great tempest swept into the tomb and surrounded the man in a vortex of thrashing winds. “YOUR WISH IS GRANTED” the genie boomed as an unearthly glow consumed the man. When the winds finally died down the man opened his eyes and felt as if he was a god. “You will be immortal till the end of time itself so long as your conditions are met.” “

“”Conditions?” the man asked.” The student said in a thick accent, ”What conditions?””

  “The genie pointed down to the ground in front of the man and now before him was a small snail. “You will remain immortal so long as this snail does not touch you.” The genie’s voice boomed. “It is immune from harm and like you is immortal. It will forever know where you are at any given time and always be seeking to touch you.””

“”That is all?” the man laughed. “I have nothing to fear then.””

“With that said the man climbed out of the tomb and looked out over the dry dessert. He took a moment look back down but could not see the genie anymore, only the snail slowly following after him.”

“This is your story?” Araganath inquired. “I would hardly call this a tale worthy of a free pass.”

“Because we have only finished act 1.” The student countered and

[ghuleh-recs]

@st-danger is your favorite ghoul writer's favorite ghoul writer and it was their birthday yesterday! I've compiled a list of some of my favorite Saint fics to celebrate. Beyond being an incredible writer, Saint is such a wonderfully supportive member of the fandom here. They always leave a kind word (or sexy addition lbr) in the tags. You know that meme that's like 'I sure hope this doesn't awaken something in me?' That's how I experience most of their fics. So thank you Saint for sharing your writing with us. I don't know that the fandom needed more reasons to be horny but here we are. Go leave Saint some comments and hit up their ko-fi for some birthday appreciation!

recs under the super cute divider from @forlorn-crows

Terrors of the Night - dewdrop/dewdrop - E, 13.5k

“Hi,” he says, to himself. Dew is not by nature a timid or shy thing. He has always been a healthy mix of piss and vinegar. Acerbic wit and energy, and thoughtful tenderness in the right circumstances. A sharp tongue but a gentle touch. Fearful or nervous are not descriptors to be used, nothing he’s ever been accused of…and yet, Dew goes cold and his hand tightens around the fistful of blanket as he pulls it closer to himself. An uncharacteristic movement performed by a hand not under his control. Dewdrop smiles at him, with light eyes and lighter hair, looking exactly how he used to. Or, The past comes back to haunt.

Copia, seeing the ghouls' faces - Copia & Everyone - G, <1k

He once heard Terzo describe looking at Omega's true face as "confusing". He never asked any follow up questions to clarify that statement, but he's always wondered if confusing meant strange to look at, or strange to look at because his human brain couldn't figure out exactly what it was looking at, in an Eldritch horror kind of way. If hellspawn are naturally just beyond what mortal minds can know. "Are you sure?" Copia asks, though his hands are already reaching towards Aether's face. "You want me to see you?" "We want you to know us," Aether replies simply, and carefully, so carefully, Copia slides off Aether's mask, like the metal might turn out to be sugar and splinter and break if he isn't gentle.

Steadfast Love, Not Sacrifice - Aether/Copia/Dewdrop - E, 11k

It’s a bit like a shark smelling blood, he thinks as they follow close behind. It's natural they were going to want to taste it, too. “Well,” Copia says, “some of us need our beauty sleep.” He hesitates, and then proceeds to look nervously between the two of them and continue, “I meant me, of course. You two are already very, erm. I should go to bed.” It’s such a flimsy excuse. The elevator reaches the third floor before any of them speak again. Aether clears his throat. “You don’t want to though.” Copia looks very called out, but can’t do much more than stare, before realizing the two ghouls beside him are waiting for an actual answer of some kind. The elevator beeps as it passes the fourth floor. “No,” Copia says slowly, and Aether’s stomach does a little swoop. “I don’t.” Or, Sometimes the reward is worth the risk.

[REC] - Dewdrop/Swiss - E, 1.8k

“Have you thought about Aether watching you like this before?” “Not before you mentioned taking photos.” Swiss stands and Dew watches through narrowed eyes as he spreads Dew’s legs to stand between them, and reaches down to unclip the garter from his left leg. He strokes along the top of the lace teasingly and then begins to work it down Dew’s thigh, pushing his leg up to roll it down and off his calf, his toes. “Let me blindfold you,” he says by way of explanation. (don't miss the sequel 1080P !)

Self Control Takes The City - Terzo/Omega - E, 5.6k

Omega can be endlessly patient. He has existed, in some form, for an unfathomable length of time. Above Ground, years upon years. In the Pit- well, there’s no way to say. No way to measure. But he has been for a very, very long time. He knows good things come to those who wait. Alas, patience is a virtue. Hellspawn such as himself surely couldn’t be found to be practicing that very often. There is, of course, a workaround; practicing said virtue during unvirtuous situations. For unvirtuous reasons. As the saying goes, the devil’s in the details. Or, Omega gives until it hurts.

Hybrid Slinky - Dewdrop/Swiss - E, 2.8k

“It got deep,” Rain says, voice quiet and a little husky, and he brings Dew’s hand higher, closer to his mouth. “Let me clean you up?” Dew’s mind goes blank for a moment, before catching up to what Rain’s suggesting, and he feels a frisson of excitement zig-zag its way down his spine. “Yeah,” he grins. “Go ahead and make Papa proud.” _ Dewdrop cuts his finger, Rain and Aether kiss it better, as you do.

Worship, Bow Down - Dewdrop/Sister Imperator - E, 3.4k

“All work and no play’s turned you cruel,” Dew laments, and rises. Places his palms on the heavy desk and leans in, shower-damp hair in a curtain over his shoulders. “Could sweeten you back up. If you wanted.” Imperator takes a quick breath in. “Office hours are over,” she says. “Lock the door.” “Did that on the way in.” He has the cheek to wink. He trails his fingers over the wood as he walks around to her, loving the way her eyes follow him, up until he stands behind her, rests those elegant hands on her shoulders and gives them a little squeeze. “Feeling tingly yet?” Or, the road is fun, but coming home is, too.

Quintessence Control - Aether/Aeon/Dewdrop - E, 1.1k

"Didn't you say you wanted to show me a little something?" Aeon wiggles his fingers and Dew goes still. Against his neck, Aether places a wet, sucking kiss. "Okay?" he whispers against Dew's skin, fingertips stroking over his temple, down the side of his face. "Cool if we play?" Dew chokes out a yes, and Aether takes a slow, deep breath and bleeds magick into him, tangling himself between every neuron in his brain. (You should also read this one actually)

Stoned Edging - Aeon/Swiss - E, 1.4k

"Unholy shit," Aeon breathes, sounding delighted and fucked-out, trying to steady the rise and fall of his chest. "How many are we at now?" Swiss doesn't know. Too many times, and they're both far too high to remember the count. Their little game of how bad they can make it for each other relies on two things: one, the shared love of an exquisite, particular sort of misery, and two, how much of Mountain's greenhouse stash they can get away with pilfering. It's something the others don't have the patience for. Not the way they do, at least. They're over the top with it. Unnecessary. It's delicious.

Run Rabbit Run - Rain/Swiss - E, 17.5k

“I want you to show me just how important he is,” Swiss says and Rain doesn’t understand, dazed with the slow slide and massage of lips against his while he speaks. His brain is fogged up, useless. “Will you do that for me, sweetheart?” “How?” The hands on his face remain, though Swiss once again leans away in order to look at him properly, wearing that serene smile that says he knows more than Rain ever will. Or, The hunter strikes it rich.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[leggerefiore]

Found You!

cw: implied yandere Volo

pairing: Volo/Reader

Readjusting to the modern world had been more difficult than you had expected. It was a strange experience to scare awake from the beeping of an alarm or forget how to work a computer after having gone so many months without it. That was just modern technology, too. The repetition of modern work and life felt so odd compared to the stress and uncertainty of Hisui. The safety and comfort so foreign after being bathed in danger and distress for so long.

Not to mention the strange hurt that you felt when reflecting upon the subtle loss of friends. No more could you spend time with the bumbling Professor Laventon, enjoy a battle and sweet with Adaman, or laugh along with Arezu at whatever her new hairstyle suggestion was to be. A shudder always went down your spine when you considered that they were long gone. Their deaths happening through the centuries you skipped through to return back to the modern era you were born to.

Maybe it was those complicated feelings that brought you to the Jubilife of your day and age. The city was bustling and large; the capital of the Sinnoh region. A shrine to the hard work of those you watched shed both blood and sweat to create this sanctuary during the Hisui era. It was nearly unrecognisable to the small village you had lived in during your time in the past. Everything was the most up-to-date here than the rest of Sinnoh. Towering buildings blocked the sky as people swarmed to walk every which way. You had felt your heart clench.

It was gone – you truly had returned to modern day.

The strange experience of Hisui was something you could put firmly behind you as some delusion the no one but a select few seemed even willing to entertain. It was isolating.

You were back home, surrounded by your friends and family, yet more alone than you had been in Hisui.

A sigh left you as you stopped before a large office building. Clowns danced outside, advertising some new modern tech-gadget that your brain cared little about analysing. You let out a sharp breath. Capturing Arceus after completing the PokeDex that Laventon had sought to make, it truly did feel like a dream. The deity challenged you to a battle and gave you a piece of it upon your victory. The Azure Flute had come with you to the modern day, too. You wondered what would happen if you returned to the Temple of Sinnoh.

The thought of the location sent another pang into your heart.

Volo.

You wondered how he had spent his days in Hisui. He had completely vanished after your confrontation at the temple. His true intentions… His actual plans… His kindness… His smile… Everything blended inside you painfully. The blond had come to you at your lowest point and gave you the support you needed to carry on. Then, he smothered those very flames he lit with his own hand. Had Volo only been using you the entire time? His plan had only changed when you had begun to collect plates, you knew.

A nearby electronic board projecting an image eerily similar to him on it. Champion Cynthia. She was beautiful, bold, and strong. Her love of archaeology and visage evidence that Volo had carried on his lineage. You suppose he found his place somewhere in the world. Somehow, your feet had carried you to a calmer part of the city. Less noise pollution and people wandering about. Where should you go next?

Before the question could be truly contemplated, arms wrapped around your form tightly and pushed you firmly to the body behind you. A cheek came to press against your own as both hair and cloth tickled you. Long, golden streaks broke out of the dark, heavy coat hood. You felt your heart race. What the hell? Hands locked your wrists together. Your breath stalled in your throat.

“The reason I could never collect all the plates, why I was never chosen by Arceus and then abandoned by Giratina…” a terrifyingly familiar voice whispered into your ear, “I could not recreate the world, nor could I think about anything but you… I wandered alone for so many years…” The grip on your wrists became painfully tight. They held you so close to them that you were convinced that they may be trying to fuse your body to their own. “… Found you!” they playfully spoke.

Biting back a scream, you forced yourself from their hold. You managed to turn to face them, but they kept a firm hold on your hand. A coat obscured their face as you swallowed. It could not be. He was long dead. This had to be some awful prank by someone who heard your story. Still, there was a lingering feeling of deja-vu that refused to fade. You could see their hair peaking out from the obscuring shadow of the hood. Blond hair.

“… Are you one of Cynthia's relatives? I didn't realise she had such mean people there,” you shook your head with a nervous smile, “You all seem to look eerily similar, you know.” Hopefully, they would be satisfied with your reaction and leave you alone now. A chuckle you knew all too well came from them.

His other hand came to grasp the hem of his hood as he pulled it back. Your eyes went wide as your mouth hung open.

It…

It could not be.

It simply was impossible.

A stormy eye peered into your own, obvious adoration pouring out from it. Blond strands caught the wind, nearly revealing his other eye. A smile was on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I finally found you…” Volo's voice was the same as it had been centuries ago, “It's been too long.”

His eyes closed to reflect his pure joy. You stood in shock and confusion. He pulled you to him again, forcing you into a proper embrace. His lanky form consumed yours.

His hot breath fanned against your ear as he spoke again.

“I won't let you go this time.”

[dvilsdesire]

Some little Raphael headcanons:

Raphael absolutely detests that he is a cambion. This stems entirely from being half human, which he loathes and is exceptionally insecure about. Once he was able to control his devil shape and form, he embraced it 100% and wanted to be more devil than human. Unfortunately, as a cambion, he will always be reminded that he is half a devil, and it's something he's very insecure about--comment on it and find out.

Raphael still requires food, water, sleep, and the toilet. As a cambion, he still requires food to sate his human hunger, however, cambions are allergic to most foods outside of meats, and he can get very sick if he eats something out of the ordinary. This is something he hates also, because he envies that full devils can eat whatever they wants despite not NEEDING it. Unlike him, he requires food still, but is limited to what he can actually consume without being ill. The nerve!

While he does not need as much sleep as a normal human would, he still requires rest. This makes him feel less efficient as a devil, because devils don't require sleep, and Baator runs off efficiency. One more thing to the whole hating being a cambion, as others look down on him because he requires something as simple as sleep.

As for the toilet... apparently cambions have digestive systems that require purging, which makes sense since they also require food and sleep, etc (the chamber pot in game supports this).

Raphael says he has a wine cellar in game, and I think fannon has pretty much taken on board he's a wine drinker. But he also requires water, because hydration is important! Especially in hot arse Avernus (even though devils are immune to fire).

Raphael is autosexual (sexual attraction to ones self). This is pretty much canon lore if we go off what Haarlep says in game (he stares at his own portraits, he only ever wants to sleep with himself, "Raphael loves only Raphael" etc.). I will absolutely go into a bigger post about Raphael's sexuality when I have the time, I've just been avoiding it because fandom will hate me lol.

Secondly on this note... he is not sexually or romantically interested in Tav and Co. Raphael isn't interested in sex in general unless it's with himself (or Haarlep as himself). This doesn't mean he won't use sex as a lure. He absolutely will, especially if he picks up that Tav/Co is interested in him or flirting. Overall, however, he sees everyone else as beneath him and therefore not worthy of his affections.

I am on the train of Raphael isn't exceptionally good in bed, though this isn't because he's BAD per se, it's because he's selfish. He doesn't care to please Haarlep, he cares about his own end goal and that's it. Once Raphael is done and had his orgasm, he's not about aftercare or pleasuring his sex toy (sorry 'Lep'Lep, I love you but it's true >:).

In saying that, Raphael is exceptionally possessive, and he does see Haarlep as his property. This also stems from Raphael's own feelings of inadequacy in general (re: cambion), and therefore, he becomes jealous and possessive with EASE. If he gets any inclination that he is not good at something, he will rage no thanks to those insecurities and feelings of being inadequate.

Raphael is an extremely firm believer in the laws of Baator. He is Lawful Evil to the T. I believe he fully respects and follows these traditions. His comments about the Oathbreaker Tav shows that he's not willing to deal with someone he knows is going to break a contract, because he finds that despicable. This isn't to say Raphael doesn't TWIST those laws and use loopholes to his convenience (every devil does). However, he does believe in those laws and he will follow them, because to his core, he's very Lawful Evil.

Raphael is a control freak. Living with him would be a nightmare. Everything is under his control. Every room has some strange little code or charm or riddle that requires invitation. You can't just roam around the House of Hope without Raphael knowing. He knows EVERYTHING that goes on in his house, and if he doesn't, he'll punish someone until they have no other choice but to tell him.

Raphael is a sadist. This also stems from the whole re: cambion and feelings of inadequacy. Being in control and seeing others under his command gives him a sense of (sexual) pleasure and satisfaction. This comes from a place where he has felt little and like nothing as a young cambion growing up in the Hells, where others would look down upon him and make him feel insignificant. Now, he has gained the upper hand and he will continue to do so. This is a classic tale of the bullied becoming the bully.

Second to this, he has violent tenancies, though they are generally left for very specific moments. Raphael prides himself in being a calm and collected devil, one that doesn't allow his temper to get the better of him (however, we know this happens if you make fun of him or don't play by his rules). There is a time and a place for such violence, he will not act like some savage beast, after all. It will be calculated (look at how he tortured Hope, he doesn't raise his voice, he uses manipulation, disappointment, likely even forms of psychological torture and Stockholm Syndrome tactics).

Raphael suffers night terrors. This is due to being a cambion, and because his evil nature haunts him and attempts to corrupt his thoughts and soul. Over the years, they have become something less common, but Raphael absolutely dreams (and that's canon since his diary entry). He will often twitch and mumble in his sleep (Haarlep is there to help if he wakes in distress--though Raphael tries to pretend it's nothing worth fussing over).

Speaking of diaries... Raphael is notorious for writing daily reflections. He writes EVERYTHING down. Which is honestly a really dumb thing, because even when he's plotting, someone could just pick his is diary and read every little scheme he has. While some of them are more in depth, others are sort of coded, but Raphael's quill gets away from him, and oftentimes, he is writing more in depth than he realises. For someone who demands to be in control of everything, his pages are quite often filled with restless writing and a clear sign that his thoughts are getting away from him. Poetic, right? XD

Raphael hates children. Hates! They are messy, they smell and they are noisy. Loathes children. But a child he can turn and manipulate into his own mould... he will definitely try and win over (aka Mol).

Raphael's contracts are all written in rhyme, he also has the ability to make contracts in verbal format (like with Yurgir).

Raphael waxes. He also plucks his brows. While he keeps his chest, arm, leg and pubic hair, his back and butt is always waxed. He maintains his pubic hair as well, just very neatly, as well as any other body hair he keeps. You won't catch him dead with a beard (too much like daddy).

Raphael's human form isn't overly tall. I hc him to be the average height, which is around 5'7. Honestly, I'd hc him shorter if I could, because he has short king syndrome and i love it. :) But going off game models, he seems pretty average. In cambion form, he's taller, but still average for a cambion imo. His height is nothing special, and that likely bothers him.

[mikeywayarchive]

Photo: Jawn Rocha

Mikey Way debuts his Dark Horse Comics series, Christmas 365

Anna Zanes | July 24, 2024

Full article under the cut:

It might still be sunny out, but Mikey Way is stuck on Christmas. Alongside co-writer Jonathan Rivera and illustrator Piotr Kowalski, with Brad Simpson on colors, the My Chem guitarist-cum-graphic novelist (Electric Century, Collapser) has announced Christmas 365, an upcoming series with Dark Horse Comics, also home to Gerard Way’s Paranoid Gardens and The Umbrella Academy. This oddly feel-good story, bizarre and magical as it is loaded with gallows humor, follows the arc of Peter Rockwell and his family as they navigate the treacherous holiday season, aided by some words of wisdom from a strip mall Santa. Way describes the surreal satire astutely: “Like most kids growing up, I would often fantasize, ‘What if [Christmas] never had to end?’ That very thought was what sparked this story.” Though it's got the spirit of The Nightmare Before Christmas and the kooky suburban charm of Better Off Dead — this team has created a series that’s fresh, surprising, a bit spooky, and entirely their own. 

In speaking to their process, AP connected with co-writers Way and Rivera. “Finally being able to tell this story is a real dream come true! The idea came about a decade ago, and there were plenty of starts and stops in the process,” Way shares. “Putting it in comic form felt like the perfect way to tell the story exactly how we envisioned it after so many years of wanting to share it with the world. Let's be honest, I don't think there's a kid alive who hasn't wished Christmas would never end. Haven't we all fantasized about it being something we got to live day after day?” He continues, “I saw this as an opportunity to tell a funny but heartfelt story, in the vein of all of the classic ’80s and ’90s Christmas movies that I loved so much. I remember watching Home Alone and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation back to back one night and wondering, ‘What story is left to tell?’ An hour or two later, the framework for Christmas 365 was born.”

The connection between co-writers has been an ongoing one, though this project sees it come to fruition. “It's been really fulfilling getting to finally write a story with Jonathan Rivera, who is one of my best friends — I think we've known each other over 20 years now,” Way says. As for the rest of the highly experienced team, “Piotr Kowalski and Brad Simpson brought the story to life exactly as we imagined, giving it the feel and imagery of a ’90s Christmas movie through and through. Daniel Chabon has been a terrific editor to work with and really helped us keep the story focused. I am sure this goes without saying, but it has been a real honor to be able to put out a comic under the Dark Horse banner. The folks over there have always been super kind and supportive to me, and have a rich history with my brother. So to be joining the ‘family’ with my own story to tell is pretty surreal!” 

Rivera, also known for Cave Carson Has a Cybernetic Eye, adds, “Mikey and I had been talking about this story for a while, but it really started to come together as a comic during the pandemic. We’re living in stressful times, so it felt so cathartic to work on such a sweet and strange story about forgiveness and spending time with the people we love. It’s also the type of story we rarely see in comics, and that made me really excited as well.” 

For the writer, a goal has been achieved with this project. Dark Horse has long been a northern star in the industry for Rivera, who caps the chat off with, “I’ve been a fan of Dark Horse comics since I picked up their first Aliens vs. Predator miniseries as a kid. I later worked with them when I ran the official Myspace for The Umbrella Academy back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth. So it brings me great joy to come home again with a book that means so much to me!”

Dark Horse Comics

Dark Horse Comics

[createyourownnarrative]

Usually I try not to post too much about Long Covid on my regular FB feed. I’ve learned to just not do it. It’s best I save those posts for my support groups where I can get the support I need from people going through the same struggle.

But I need to get this off my chest.

I always knew I wanted to be an artist. I dabbled in many mediums over the years, photography, music, painting, film/media, writing, I’ve made sculptures. I truly enjoy expressing myself through various art forms, and connecting with others through that.

In 2010-2011, after years of working job after job trying to find my passion (when most of my friends were already college graduates with direction) and feeling a little lost, in the retail industry, I put my foot down, went back to school and chose a medium, & decided to pursue THAT. One medium I truly always loved: Photography. In 2012, I exhibited my work for the first time. In 2020 I opened up my first photo studio. A creative space where I can share and make memories. 1 month later, a global pandemic overturns our worlds and realities. I never would have imagined, that, in our lifetime. You just don’t think it could happen to you (to us). But it did. It’s still so surreal to me.

I got sick with Covid twice. I knew some people who had covid over 4-8 times. I had it twice. It only took that first bout with the virus to completely change my life. My body. My mind. My worries. My perspective. My whole world. And my future. I thought I almost had it figured out, my path, my plans, my goals. What I wanted to do, and where I wanted to go. Who I wanted to be. Now i’m grateful that I make it through my day, without collapsing. (which has happened and was very scary). My last two photography jobs, I couldn’t feel my hands. It’s why I’ve been so inactive, since I got sick. Whats going to happen when I can’t take pictures anymore?

When I tested positive for the first time, I cried in the cab ride home. I was beyond terrified. What will this mean? Will I survive this? What is going to happen. I thought if I can get through the virus and live, that’s all I could want. Some months before, I had lost a high school friend, a fellow musician, to Coronavirus. He was only 32 years old. We didn’t know what would happen. Who was at risk of death. After 9 or 10 days, with the virus. I tested negative, and returned to work. Feeling good, that I survived. Especially after day 4, when I woke up gasping for air in the night. I feared I wouldn’t wake up. I got blamed for testing positive by people around me. It was “my fault”. For “not being careful”. I felt so alienated. After I returned to work, I was preparing to move, packing, organizing, purging. One day, I could not get out of bed. And strange heavy symptoms. I thought I had Covid again. Of course the test came back negative.

But I would never be the same again. I never fully recovered from getting sick. Stuck back in 2020.

Do you know what it’s like? I see the world moving on. Almost like it never happened. Our government lying and covering up facts/truth. We are still sick. Still here. 18 million people in America are still sick with Post Covid syndrome. I’m left to feel like it’s my fault..I’m to blame. Because I “didn’t take care of myself.” Would you say that to someone with cancer? Or fibromyalgia? Or heart problems? Or Alzheimer’s? Or diabetes? Or any other illness? The stigma I’m (and we are) facing is unreal. People don’t believe me when I say “I still can’t taste and smell” and that I’m chronically ill now. “You don’t look sick”. “It’s because you party too much”. “you’re getting older” “it’s all those long nights you work on your feet”. I’ve heard it all. “But I see you at the bar working”. I have to work. There is no disability, go fund me, or assistance. I have to pay my rent. On my own. So I need to work. But just because you see me, at work, doesn’t mean I’m well. It just means I’m pushing myself to stay alive. It’s been true torture working through all this. I mourn and grieve for weeks and months at a time. It hasn’t stopped. It took me a long time, to accept that this is not going away anytime soon.

And my heart is broken. I feel left out in the rain. By our leaders, scientists, doctors, friends I thought I had. There is no community support. Even if someone believes you’re sick. No funding/fundraisers for LC. There is no cure, no pill, no treatment, no progress in finding treatment or biomarkers in the body to be able to even test for LC. The unpredictability of it. The symptoms. It’s really been torturous. Torture. A true nightmare. Having to sit in the shower so I don’t fall. Or hit my head (again) Doubling heart rate just upon standing. I get winded just talking and singing karaoke. I forget everything now. I slur my speech, sober. Tremors like Parkinsonism. My memory loss and constant issues feel like dementia-brain fog. I forget how to spell now. my hands turn purple red and blue when I step out of the shower. Migraines that last for months. Months. I take Tylenol like it’s medication. Neuropathy, nerve pain, nerve itches, tingling and numbness. My body temperature can’t regulate, so I often am cold and hot simultaneously. How do you remedy that? The discomfort and distress I feel is unbearable. Loosing clumps of hair. My hair is greying more and more rapidly post covid. Brittle nails. Skin issues. Digestive issues. Eye problems. Cognitive difficulties. Joint pain. Muscle pain. Muscle atrophy. Weakness. Severe severe fatigue. Almost like you worked out at the gym, full body then took a benadryl. Every. Fucking. Day. I’m tired of being so fucking tired. Before Covid, people would always have to tell me to slow down. Working full time, school, internships, photography, going to the gym full time. I always took on so much. I had so much energy and drive. It was a fire in me.

Now it’s gone. A piece of me has died, undoubtedly. And I question everything now. Most days I’m afraid to leave my house. And don’t. Unless it’s to work. If I do leave my house, it’s because I’m pushing myself, and I’m not well. My anxiety and depression are much worse. Chronic illness has also taken its toll on my mental health. It’s been draining trying to keep up with the world. I feel left behind. I’m not only mourning my health, and my abilities, but my passion in life, the one thing I worked so hard for. My future. And Photography. What do I do, if I can’t create anymore? What purpose do I have?

No one believes me, or think LC exists. And if I don’t “show up”, it’s because “she’s a flake”. I’m in such a dark place you may never understand. How do I navigate this life? Being sick every day.

[layraket]

okay finally the most waited post (of mine (maybe)) since yesterday!!! me rambling in a weird/deep way!!!!

first of all we start strong

the Wolfie thing was something that i've been wondering when will be adressed, and when i read the word "wolf" i got nuts

I felt weird here cuz Four just mentioned Time and himself??? im crackling at Leg's face "my guy you forgot someone" now thinking better abt it Legend didn't tell anyone abt the bunny thing appart of Twi and Sky, so it makes sense they not knowing he already found out

It makes sense that he didn't wanted to show his wolf form to them at the start, he can't just go "hey guys look i can turn into a wolf *cool shadow transformation* AUUUUUUUUUU-" and not freak them out.

and i find a little amusing Wind wanting a confirmation, he wants to make sure that now there's not fractures between each other's trust. They still got their secrets, yeah, but he still wanted to at least hear that theyre cool about this one

Twi almost died, and the only reason that he's still breathing is because of them, obviously he will trust them now.

my poor guy has been working so hard, being the emotional support dog in the group together with big brother duty is exhausting

still makes me laugh that nobody really made 2+2 and realised that it was a little suspicious that every time Wolfie was there Twi was patrolling. They really share the name Link huh

Wolves are beautiful but dangerous animals, they are strong and usually agressive to invasors, makes sense to hide something that makes people run away from you. You might be able to defend them, but they will only pay back with scared glances

ohhh i would really love to see this! Wild already knew Twilight, well, future Twilight. He saw the giant dog wandering around and thought "hey i know him thats the strange wolf! hey hiii buddyyy" this guy really

love them trying to explain time shenanigans. keep it up buddy. you know basic math you can do this.

the rest of them talking abt the wolf thing while here my man fighting with the gps

Wild you already established your point calm down

Something that i and a lot of people noticed: Wars seems more relaxed, the past updates he was at the verge of screaming at the void. Now here he is, bothering his brother. Happy Warriors is back!

See the only thing he needed was his emotional support scarf back

if i had a coin every time a character hide their true identity in the zelda series i would have 16 coins, which is a lot considering that i thought it would be just 5 or 6 times what the hell

oh i know that look. He has already an idea of what wars menat with that, he has already experienced the same situation

Four doesn't fully approve the use of shadow magic yet. He remembers someone that because of that lost himself in the power. What if this happends too with Twi? How will they handle that situation? His mind is already too noisy just with thinking it a little

He hopes they will not have to confront the consecuences of dark magic's abuse

i remember that someone said Wolfie looks weaker, and honestly i agree

im not sure if this is the case, but if it is i wouldn't be surprised. He looks thinner, his fur more tangled and less flat

Still fluffy boy, tho

AND NOW. the panels that made me laugh for some weird reason/i liked a lot without any comments of why

art at its peak as always

(art credits goes towards @linkeduniverse as always!)

[whinlatter]

Could you explain more what you mean by “shows how the wizarding world, which does not seem to be a representative democracy”? Like I feel I probably agree with you but I want to understand it more because like from what little we know of canon wizards do get a say in ministry (ex Fudge lied to public about Voldemort so the public wanted him out and chose Scrimgeour, etc) but cause we don’t see general elections but snap elections it’s unclear ?

The British wizarding world when asked to prove that it's a functioning democracy:

Would love to say a bit more about this (briefly mentioned in the author’s note for Beasts chapter six) 🤸‍♀️ It’s definitely true that the opinions of the wizarding public do hold large sway over the appointment of the Minister of Magic in canon in ways that could imply the existence of wizarding. democracy. But it just seems to me that if the wizarding world in Britain is a democracy, then it's so weak or partial a democracy that I don't think we can really call it one at all. I know that old Pottermore post insists Ministers for Magic are democratically elected, and, as you say, in canon, the Minister of Magic seems to be somehow answerable to public opinion and support in a way that implies some idea of popular self-government through some form of representative democracy. But my view is that, in canon, it's basically not a democracy, for reasons I've put below the cut. (Thank you for letting me waffle on about this!)

The reason I think the wizarding world basically doesn’t seem to function as a representative democracy:

None of the four Ministers of Magic in post in the core timeline of the series participate in (or win) a free and fair election during the canon timeline, and most well-informed characters refer to the post as one filled by appointment (possibly by the Wizengamot). In OotP, Arthur gives a bit of insight on the process of appointment when he's talking about Fudge and Dumbledore's rivalry: '[Dumbledore] never wanted the Minister’s job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he’s never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job.” 'Applied for the job' would be a strange way of describing running for elected office, and Bagnold having 'retired' again doesn't imply an election was held. At the start of HBP, Fudge says he's been 'sacked', and while he says that the public were calling for his resignation, there’s no mention of a snap election. You’re completely right that there could have been one, but to me this sounds more like Scrimgeour is an internal emergency appointment (that he's an Auror suggests to me that it's a bit like bringing in the military, along the lines of a state of emergency provision). That Fudge can stay on 'in an advisory capacity' as a Ministry employee also suggests there are other governmental actors who have the power to 'keep on' outgoing Ministers, suggesting again that the Minister of Magic is usually an appointed rather than elected office. Obviously, Thicknesse becomes Minister in... not very democratic circumstances. And then Kingsley gets 'named temporary Minister for Magic' in a decision made by who bloody knows at the end of DH, which again suggests the existence of an unelected body called upon to appoint Ministers, at the very least, in times of emergency.

Even if we buy the idea that the Minister of Magic is elected sometimes, the Wizengamot doesn't ever seem to be, and it seems likely they're body with the power to appoint or dismiss the Minister of Magic without an election. Even if you take the Pottermore post on its own terms, it seems the wizarding community only get to elect the office of the Minister for Magic and not any representatives of an elected chamber who would legislate on their behalf, and who might sit in an assembly like MPs in a parliament or congressmen or senators from different regions. There also doesn’t seem to be a system where the proportion of votes corresponds with the number of representatives and therefore majority/minority control of an elected chamber, either with or without a party-political system. In canon, the Wizengamot really doesn't seem to be a body of elected representatives. They seem to be much more like an unelected legislative body of grandees, some with inherited titles, some appointed as an honours system, like the House of Lords in the UK, but also with the power to hold court trials. (There's a great meta on this that I really enjoyed - it's a bit ahistorical, but it's super rich and fun exploration of different models for the Wizengamot's strange blend of executive and legislative power in the British political tradition).

Popular opinion can matter in non-democracies, and popular opinion and support for political figures seems to matter a lot in the wizarding world. In GoF, Sirius gives us an insight, admittedly that of an outsider, of the process of ministerial appointments when he talks about Barty Crouch Sr. Sirius says Crouch was 'tipped for the next Minister of Magic' and had 'his supporters': 'Plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamouring for him to take over as Minister of Magic.' This sounds like strong popular support, likely communicated through wizarding media, but also just through hearsay and gossip through Ministry and adjacent circles. But what Sirius describes doesn't sound like a support base of voters, and certainly Crouch doesn't seem to have run against Fudge in an election.

Everyone seems to think of the Ministry as holding a broadly technocratic role in wizarding life (even though it's actually extremely political and also functions as the justice system). The Ministry of Magic seems to exist to both shield Muggles from knowledge of magic, to make and enforce law, and to function as a bureaucracy overseeing and ensuring the smooth running of education, trade, communication, transport etc. It doesn't seem to function as a social democracy in the sense of having any kind of welfare state. But this (false) idea of the Ministry as having a fundamentally apolitical social role lends itself to this idea of the wizarding world being a tepid democracy, with a populace broadly happy to give up certain democratic freedoms if it's in the public interest, trading off elements of self-government in exchange for greater efficiency or seeming sense of safety.

It seems possible, even likely, that Kingsley, as a progressive, would try to make his appointment as Minister official and legitimate through a free and fair election after the war (Lee Jordan says Kingsley's “got his vote” if he runs for office after the war - it's extremely funny to me that the only character to talk about voting in the entire series is the deeply unserious Lee Jordan in a jokey radio segment). We don't know that for sure, though, and when the series ends, it is with an unelected Shacklebolt caretaker government. The goodies might win, but democracy continues to elude the wizarding world as the series concludes.

...Basically, you know that scene in OotP when they're at the Hog's Head planning the DA? It's sort of a perfect illustration of the wizarding world's approach to democracy lol. Hermione is one of the nuisance progressives trying to do something mad like 'hold an election', Cho is the voice of the Wizengamot:

“Well, I’ve been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and — er —” He noticed a raised hand. “What, Hermione?” “I think we ought to elect a leader,” said Hermione. “Harry’s leader,” said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad, and Harry’s stomach did yet another back flip. “Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,” said Hermione, unperturbed. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So — everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?” Everybody put up their hands, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very halfheartedly. “Er — right, thanks,” said Harry, who could feel his face burning.

[quietbooklion]

Thoughts on: Kuro

Kuro may be the pure definition of a ball of sunshine because this guy really does know how to brighten up any place with his upbeat attitude and wanting to cheer others up. He's a pretty good guy with an interesting and somewhat depressing backstory. Which is kind of hard to imagine given how upbeat he is but damn, was hiss backstory a good one.

*This review will contain spoilers, you have been warned*

Kuro is the type of guy I see as being a good friend to you. Always there when you need to talk to someone and he'll do his absolute best to put a smile on your face or at the very least give you a good pep talk. He offers his companionship and I think that's where he shines the best whether he's the main focus of a story or if he's a side-character. He's a very genuine guy and probably on par with Koga as being a kind of pillar to the group.

Of course, his backstory does come into play and I think it's an interesting take on self-hatred and not wanting to scare others. It's revealed in the common story of the Twilight faction that he's a Nue, a type of chimera. And he's had a lot to deal with not only people fearing him to the point of calling him a monster, but also dealing with so much internalized hate on his part. It may sound like an afterschool special where he learns to accept himself, and while it kind of does, I think this kind of storytelling is unique to Kuro who is a supernatural creature. In the end, him coming to terms and accepting who he is was done great and felt authentic.

Whereas his character growth was done great, I can't say the same for the romance and the ending.

For the romance part, I'm going to be real: I do not see Kuro as being a romantic interest for Futaba, or any person. At all. This sounds strange but bare with me. I can't see Kuro being the type of guy to be so romantic or straightforward with his flirtations. And I've played otome games where there's that one cute guy but they somehow make the romance work all while being cute AF. Kuro, on the other hand, I see more as a friend for Futaba rather than a boyfriend. As mentioned earlier, I think Kuro works best when he's the supportive friend.

As for the ending, I think this is probably the worst example of having the conflict resolved off-screen. The whole plot with Kuro's story is that the Senkita, or rather Hisui, released a Raiju to cause havoc on the Capital and Kuro wants to find a way to convince the Raiju to leave. And then there's the subplot of Kuro's former friend still hating him after he revealed his true form. And you want to know how it ends? Well, everything is resolved off-screen. Let me tell you, I had completely forgotten most of Kuro's plot and after re-reading the ending, I see why. This was just bad. You're telling me all of the issues with the Raiju and Kuro's friend happened off-screen? That's just very bad storytelling. I wanted a better resolution to the story. Not this sorry excuse of a resolution. I would've given this a very low score had it not been for the amazing character growth Kuro went through.

Kuro is a sweet guy who is a great companion. He works better as a friend than a love interest and while the ending was just done terribly, I still think that it's worth reading his story to understand his self-hatred and see him grow to love himself.

3/5 stars.

[thekingofthenameless]

Happy Pride Month!!!! OC that was previously cis is now transmasc!

That was the concept I was yelling about! Everyone I’ve told has loved it, and Tumblr’s getting it too.

Anyways TRANSMASC MERLIN MY BELOVED

I can say with the upmost confidence that he’s definitely never been transgender in any Arthurian adaptation before except fanfiction.

There isn’t really much of a story for why I decided to do this, though. He’s been cisgender for a little over three years, give or take, and I hadn’t had any intentions of changing it.

But I had literally just started work yesterday morning, and out of nowhere my brain was like: “Trans Merlin.”

And then I got consumed by it.

There isn’t much content about him being transgender; only ten posts tagged posts for it on Tumblr, 82 fics of it on Ao3. (Yes, I checked.) And it’s all for one adaptation only: BBC Merlin.

I’m going to be the change I want to see though >:)

So without further ado, here’s a few new facts about him!

Merlin was his name at birth, and he kept it after transitioning.

(In my opinion, it’s an ode to trans people who don’t change their name before or after transitioning, and it’s also a reference/mythology gag to female portrayals of Merlin, such as The Seven Deadly Sins!)

(Honestly thinking about it, I can’t believe in all these adaptations of Arthurian Legend Merlin isn’t trans in at least one?? Or queer in some way? This is so rude.)

In TKN, cambions can shapeshift easily, and there’s also a spell they can cast that makes the form they change into their base/true form, which is what Merlin did. (He cried when he finally saw who he wanted to be in a mirror.)

When he was deciding on how he wanted to ideally look before the spell, he decided he didn’t want to let his ear piercings close, and he also chose to keep his hair long and keep wearing jewelry.

(Older queers my beloved.)

He still got periods until he went into menopause because magic unfortunately, as he and I both agree can’t get rid of periods, and he actually didn’t want to change his genitalia! He still has every reproductive organ he was born with. His chest, however, gave him gender dysphoria, so he bound it during/after puberty before using the spell.

(I love how Merlin has gone from cis white to cis ambiguously brown skinned [glad I changed that lol] to cis black to transmac black. Just. Merlin my beloved.)

Charlie is one of the few characters who knows that Merlin is transgender: people already think Merlin’s crazy for his schizophrenia and psychosis, and/or an asshole for his misophonia, so he doesn’t want to risk another thing they’d use against him. Charlie is the best familiar and was fully supportive throughout his transition, and he loves him and is fully willing to accommodate his disabilities when no one will.

(Trans Merlin has been giving me so much euphoria all day oh my gosh. I love him so much.)

He still has a sister! Her name is Ganieda, and in some of the Legends she’s two years younger than him. Here, though, they’re identical twins!

(No offense to the og Legends, but for one reason, it’s because of Adhan having a second child only two years after being assaulted and getting pregnant from it. She would’ve gotten pregnant again at a year and three months after? It’s kind of strange, in my opinion.)

Also identical twins, and one of them being trans!

(I just. TRANS MERLIN)

As a given, he knows what periods and feminine rage and experiencing misogyny are like! But in a world that doesn’t for the most part, he comes off as well versed in it to everyone else.

(This is just an idea for now, but I was thinking that maybe later in TKN, Morgana gets her period at Camelot, and after Merlin gets her taken care of/gently educates her about it, he astral projects to Igraine and Gorlois and is like: “Hey Morgana got her period, but I got her taken care of dw 👍” and their response is: “Wow, you’re really knowledgeable about periods!”

Merlin: Trans panic

He’s experienced both womanhood and manhood, and both of them are extremely important to him. He was raised as a daughter. He experienced being a sister. He went through puberty in a girl’s body. He has the right to tell her story, and his.

Anyways. Transmasc Merlin because I’m not going to stop screaming about it

Also I made this :D

[princess-pathetic-112898]

I finally watched Nimona and, yeah, fuck, it made me feel things. And because this is how my brain works I immediately started thinking of all the similarities & parallels to The Owl House and how the characters would interact with each other. Here’s what my genius mind has cooked up so far:

• Nimona hasn’t interacted with peers since Gloreth so being thrust into a friend group takes some warming up to (yeah she’s actually like a thousand years old but c’mon she’s a teenager in every way that matters). The Hexsquad is patient, but they’re also persistent, with each finding their own way to bond with her over time. Luz bonds with her over drawing & soon they’re writing graphic novels together (I’m very clever). Willow sets her up with a pizza garden (seeds & plants for tomato, onion, garlic, mushrooms, basil, peppers, oregano, and OLIVES- rip Ambrosius). Gus & Nim come up with a game where she transforms into anything or anyone she wants and Gus tries to use his illusions to copy her. Amity tells Nim all about the Bonesborough Brawl and the two of them train together for the rest of the year to enter the next competition. Hunter introduces her to all the Palismen of the forest, who accept her instantly when she transforms to play with them. She can talk to Vee about what it’s like to be a shapeshifter, and how it felt to think they’d never be accepted most of their lives and then suddenly find themselves with a loving family. Nim & King Go Goblin Mode Every. Damn. Day.

• At first, Ballister is incredibly nervous about her spending time alone with these strange children. After all, he’s the first person she’s been able to trust in a thousand years, so her social skills are a little rusty, and he doesn’t know these damn kids so how can he know they’re really his baby’s friends??? Goblin Mode may be activated, but so is Protective Dad Mode. Of course, they win him over when he sees how happy Nimona is with them and how genuinely kind & welcoming they are.

• Nimona & the Clawthorne Kids become a team of awesome chaos. Rules are made to be broken. Property will be damaged. Bread puns will be made. Eda likes to joke that one day she’ll snatch the kid up & make her an official Clawthorne. Ballister promises that if she ever tries it she’ll lose the other arm.

• Speaking of which, whenever Bal’s prosthetic arm comes off, Eda tosses off the hook as fast as she can, Naruto runs at him, and bumps her arm stub up against his, declaring that they alone have paid “the true price of love”. Ambrosius doesn’t think it’s very funny, but Raine does.

• Ballister, Ambrosius, Lilith & Hunter have all gotten together to form a “So You Were Brainwashed Into Dedicating Yourself To A Crooked System” support group.

So yeah, this is where my mental state is at. Feel free to add onto my madness.

[quordleona03]

What are your thoughts on Charcahy?

They're sort of my NTP in MASH, though the kind of No True Pair where I'm certain someone could probably convincem e if they tried hard enough. Let me explain.

Charles Emerson Winchester is a racist bigot. He has no redemption arc. (In "The Tooth Shall Set You Free", he takes the smallest part possible in the entrapment of Major Weems - and while he may be partly motivated because Weems sending black soldiers into harms' way to get them killed our wounded - but either way out of his unit - was just too much even for him.) His views on people are explicitly formed by how much melanin they have in their skin. He has no redemption arc: we never see him realise he was wrong to think or feel like this. (He does apologise to Honoria for his temper tantrum about her marrying an Italian, but only after the wedding is called off.) As with Potter's villainy, by the time Winchester is part of the series,. his bigotry is played for laughs. It is never supported in-script, but we also made to see that Winchester is - unlike Frank Burns - capable of being civil and even kind to those he despises as inferior to him. (Charles dances with Kellye in the officer's club: he is genuinely sympathetic to Margaret even though he explicitly says to her that after alll, she is marrying out of her kind when she weds Donald Penobscot.) It'm confident he would have remembered to be polite to Ginger Bayliss, if she'd still been part of the nurses corps when he got there.

One reason why I think this: whatever Charles's sexual orienation, I have seen him written convincingly as gay or straight or bisexual or ace - he clearly very much enjoys being with women. The nicest thing about him is his love for his sister Honoria. (I think Cousin Alfred used to bully Honoria over her stutter and Charles never spares a chance to be vicious to him in revenge.) Whether or not Charles is sexually-attracted to women, he is convincingly fond of women's company, and gentlemanly in behaviour even to women he sees as his social inferiors.

Charles is prejudiced against Father Mulcahy. Mulcahy is working-class in origin: he's Irish: he's Catholic: Wincester writes him off as a ditzy optimist, and, for the most part, even his compliments are phrased as "you're a credit to your kind of people". There are two occasions where Charles does go to Father Mulcahy for help - in "Strange Bedfellows", where he's worried that he really does snore, and - much later and with more effect - in "Moral Victory", when he is unable to get over the fact that he was unable to save a pianist's hand. In the latter episode, Charles has simply despaired: he cannot comfort the man he operated on, he wants Father Mulcahy to try. I don't think Charles would let himself find Francis Mulcahy an attractive man. If he did, then I feel their relationship would end when, like Mr Darcy, he made clear to his beloved object how much he realises that a relationship with a man of Mulcahy's sort would be a very bad idea for a Winchester but nonetheless irresistible. Jane Austen had this end happily, but only because Darcy went away, thought about it, realised Elizabeth was right, and reformed himself - but also, Elizabeth realised that at least one of the areas where she had supposed Darcy to be in the wrong - over Mr Wickham - he was actually right: Wickham is a scoundrel. Francis Mulcahy dislikes Charles. Not a passionate dislike - though he does lose his temper at Charles more often than he does at anyone else - but Mulcahy sees Charles's prejudices and vanity and arrogance and while he manages mostly to be good-humoured and surface-friendly to Charles (who is one of his parishioners, even if Charles doesn't want to be) the surface friendliness is abraded sometimes when Charles says or does something that Mulcahy finds infuriating - usually a comment about the Irish.

Father Mulcahy regards the surgeon Charles Emerson Winchester with respect, and the bigot with irritation - and neither feeling is particularly passionate. Mulcahy has heard this kind of thing before. He mostly doesn't allow his irritation to show through. Sometimes he loses his temper with Charles: mostly he succeeds in not doing so: but there is no passion it. Mulcahy dislikes Charles, and his reasons for doing so are quite solidly grounded on the kind of person Charles actually is.

So: I don't see it. Change my mind....

[francesminos-tt]

I have no idea how to put this into context, but I hope you can understand it.

Joffrey survives the fall and becomes king of the Seven Kingdoms, but he is emotionally broken beyond repair.

He tries his best to live and look after his brother Aegon who has also been affected by the war. (Joffrey might have severely injured a leg and uses crutches to get around better)

Daeron is also alive, but he is a prisoner.

I can't remember if you wrote something like this, but Joffrey visits Daeron. He hates himself every time. He hates Daeron too. This man who helped to indirectly kill the people Joffrey loved the most. Joffrey also feels the guilt burning inside him and boiling his blood. The shame for giving himself over to someone so filthy, a traitor.

Joffrey lets Daeron fuck him. He doesn't understand why, he could have a thousand lovers, but he can't allow anyone to touch him if no one does. it hurts. Joffrey will soon have to get married and he won't allow this to continue, but for now he enjoys it.

When they come, Joffrey feels sick and so good. He wants to die, but it's also one of the only moments he feels alive.

It takes weeks before the next visit. (I love reading Daeron in love and suffering from almost unrequited love.) Joffrey self-blame. He's cursed himself. He tries to be strong, but he isn't. Not anymore.

The context is actually sad boy Joffrey hating himself for having hot and sentimental sex with his uncle

I am not sure if the sex is hot enough, but. Enjoy.

Sitting on the iron throne was not as pleasant as most nobles thought. The seat was uncomfortable, to say the least, and the blades surrounding it were menacing and unkind, as if waiting to seek revenge from the decedents of the conqueror. The iron was bone-chillingly cold, enough to freeze Joffrey’s blood no matter how many layers he wore. Sitting on the throne was a punishment, rather than an achievement.

“Your grace, ravens from various ports came this morning, all of them reporting strange deaths of sailors its harbor area. It might be the result of an unknown plague.”

“Disputes of inheritance in the Vale is raising more concerns, your grace. Which claimant should the throne support, your grace? Ser Joffrey or Ser Arnold?”

“Will it please your grace to reconstruct the Dragon Pit?”

“We don’t have the coins yet, Lord Treasurer.”

“Well, gold from Lannisport should arrive anytime now. We can also make loans from the iron bank or the bank of Lys. I heard that Old Town has formed its own bank too.”

“My lords, forgive my bluntness, but I think the most important matter right now is to secure a marriage pact for our king. We need heirs. Or the succession conflict will never end.”

All the arguing lords fell silent, and directed their gaze to their king. Joffrey, first of his name, king of the Andals, the Rhoynars and the First Men, lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, sat on the iron throne with a grim face.

“Enough.” Joffrey said, clenching his jaw, “I have already addressed the matter of marriage, my lords. My young brother Aegon is already betrothed to Jaehaera. I am sure they will become a lovely couple when they come of age. The throne has its successor.”

“But you are the king, your grace.” The Hand, Lord Manderly said on behalf of his fellow council, “We need your heir, not your brother’s. Perhaps your grace will honor your late brother, Prince Jacaerys’s decision.”

The northern lord’s intention couldn't be clearer. Joffrey was betrothed to Lady Manderly as part of the pact Jace had made to earn White Harbor’s support, and now the Hand wanted the king to make true of the pact. Lord Manderly’s words were no surprise to Joffrey; what surprised him was the reaction of the other lords. They seemed to agree with the Hand. The small council seemed to have formed an alliance to push Joffrey into making decisions that the king might not want to make.

“I will,” Joffrey spoke, gripping the throne a little too tightly, “consider it.”

Holding a council in the throne room was a tiresome thing. Joffrey wanted to do it in the council room, as all the former kings did, but all his council suggested that he should be seen sitting on the throne as often as possible. Joffrey had no choice but to agree.

Sometimes, Joffrey felt he was not a king, rather a prisoner, trapped in this gilded castle.

Joffrey spent the rest of the day in his room. He read, wrote some personal letters to Rhaena and Baela, and took a long, hot bath. He skipped the dinner and dismissed all his maids and guards early, for he was too tired and wanted an undisturbed sleep.

“The tunnels are piled with traitors’ corpses.” Joffrey said to his personal guard, “They are enough to scare away any assassin.”

Joffrey slipped out of his bedchamber in a black cloak half an hour after midnight. He headed downstairs, quiet as a cat, grim as a ghost. Despite having no torches to light his way, Joffrey still moved swiftly, as if he was so familiar with this route that he could get to his destination with his eyes closed.

Joffrey went down and down, until he arrived at the heavy door leading to the most gruesome part of the Red Keep. The Black Cell.

There was another reason why Joffrey didn't bring a torch. The Black Cell was so dark that any light source in it would draw unnecessary attention. Joffrey slipped through the door, went down the narrow corridor, and finally arrived at his destination.

“Uncle.” Joffrey murmured, his voice soft, but in the dead silence of the Black Cell, it sounded more like a desperate cry than a soft murmur.

The shadowy figure in the far end of the cell jolted up, stumbling to the sound source.

“Joff?” the figure came to Joffrey, hands on the cell bar, “You came.”

Joffrey hesitated for a moment, before reaching his hand up to touch the dirty and cold fingers on the cell bar. The fingers were rougher than he remembered.

“Yes,” Joffrey said, barely a whisper, “long time no see, Uncle Daeron.”

In the darkness of the Black Cell, the light violet eyes of Daeron Targaryen shone with anticipation and relief, brighter than the purest amethyst.

Joffrey wouldn't call his irregular visit to the Black Cell therapy, though it was, by every means, a therapy session including long and sentimental sex. Daeron was a war criminal, destined to rot in the deepest and darkest part under the Red Keep. Few people knew of his existence, for Daeron was a threat to Joffrey’s claim. If the Green supporters knew Daeron was still alive, the realm would plunge into another civil war. Joffrey could not allow or afford for it to happen.

“I lost count of time since your last visit.” Daeron whispered in Joffrey’s ear, his breath reek of blood and lack of hygiene, “There is no light here. I have no way to track the days.”

“That’s purpose of the Black Cell, uncle.” Joffrey replied, “It is designed to drive you mad.”

“Maybe, but it won't work on me.” Daeron kissed the sensitive skin behind Joffrey’s ear, “I have you. You are the anchor of my sanity. Expecting to see you again is the only thing that keeps me alive.”

Joffrey had no reply for that. Daeron was better dead than alive for the good of the realm, and Joffrey hated himself for his quickening heartbeat after hearing Daeron’s confession. He shouldn’t be excited, or proud. He wasn’t allowed to.

Daeron’s kisses were soft, like a gentle drizzle that enveloped Joffrey in a comforting bubble. Joffrey shivered when Daeron’s hand slip into his cloak, the blonde’s rough fingers dancing on his bare skin. Joffrey didn’t wear anything under the thick cloak; he presented himself like a fair maiden to a noble prince, not a sad king to his prisoner. Perhaps, in another life, they could fuck in the comfort of his bedchamber. They could have wine and a nice dinner. Joffrey would stoke enough firewood in the hearth to last forever. They could chat, laugh and wrestling with each other until they ended up on the carpeted floor. Then they would kiss, undressing each other slowly and sensually, taking their time to explore each other’s body. They would fuck on the floor, on the armchair, in bed, on the window sill, everywhere.

“You are distracted.” Daeron said, returning to kiss the corner of Joffrey’s mouth, “Something is bothering you, my king.”

Joffrey reached a hand up to stroke Daeron’s shaved head. Joffrey had ordered to shave the prisoner’s head as soon as Daeron was thrown into the Black Cell. It prevented the lice, and it would be easier to conceal Daeron’s true identity.

“There is an unknown plague breakout in port cities. The Vale is about to plunge into its own civil war. Reconstruction of the Dragon Pit can’t start without the coin, but the Red Kraken is making it difficult to carry the gold back from Lanniport.” Joffrey repeated all the council topics today; he had to clear them from his head, or he would explode. “And they want me to marry.”

Daeron’s hand reached Joffrey’s lower belly. He grabbed Joffrey’s cock without hesitation, gently pulling the skin on top before giving it a good stroke. Joffrey’s breath caught in his throat, the sensation foreign and familiar at the same time. Foreign because Joffrey had been touched for more than two months now; familiar because Joffrey dreamed of the same thing almost every day since his last visit. Daeron’s palm was so large and so warm, like a shelter reserved only for him. Joffrey hated himself for being weak under Daeron’s skillful hands, but he couldn't help it. He needed to feel safe, if only for a brief time in the place that most would consider dangerous.

“You can marry me,” Daeron said half-jokingly, “I am of noble blood. I can serve you, my king, better than anyone ever could.”

“I am afraid it's not my decision to make.” Joffrey replied, neither agreeing nor denying Daeron’s suggestion.

“You are the king,” Daeron reminded him as the blonde continued to stroke his cock, “your task to choose the best solution, not to come up with one.”

“That’s a…” Joffrey trailed off, moaning slightly as Daeron’s finger ran over the tip of his twitching cock, “nice way to put it.”

“Believe it or not,” Daeron said, his movement becoming quicker and rougher, “I spent more time with a king than you did.”

Joffrey cried out as he came, trembling in Daeron’s arms like a lone tree in the harsh wind of winter. His vision went blank for a second, before the darkness of the Black Cell resumed. Joffrey was still trembling when Daeron flipped him over, pinned him on the dirty ground and pushed a finger in his closed hole. Joffrey hissed in pain, but Daeron paid him no mind. Daeron’s previous tenderness was gone, replaced by a harshness typical of a Targaryen.

Daeron pushed another finger in, then another, and another. In Joffrey’s pathetic cries, his hole was stretched to its limit with only his own seeds as lubrication. Joffrey twisted on the straw pads on the stone floor, his hands trying desperate to hold on to something, anything that could keep him there. What were all the straws for? Joffrey wondered abruptly. Were they to keep the prisoner warm? Or provide better hiding place for rats so they could feast on the prisoner’s flesh?

“I am going to fuck now, nephew.” Daeron said before he thrust into Joffrey in one go.

Joffrey squeezed his eyes shut. He might have cried, or not. He didn’t know. All his senses were reduced to one place, his hole. He could only feel the pulsing cock inside him, filling him to the brim and making him whole. It hurt. Oh, how it hurt, but Joffrey welcomed the pain. It was the only thing to make him feel alive.

Something soft touched his hand, and Joffrey finally opened his eyes. He was lying on his stomach, the cloak under him, protecting his skin from the rough straw. His butt was lifted to meet Daeron’s crotch, the blonde hugging him from behind, his back to Daeron’s chest. Daeron’s hand was on top of his, their fingers intertwined together on the floor, like a sailor’s knot tied so tightly that it was impossible to separate them.

“I love you, Joffrey.” Daeron whispered in Joffrey’s ear as he pounded into the brunette’s body. He kept kissing Joffrey’s nape, nibbling on the fluffy curls cascading down there.

Daeron sounded sincere, but Joffrey couldn't answer. Joffrey dishonored the throne and the legacy of his mother by just coming here and offering himself like a whore to a Green. But Daeron was the only one who truly understood how much he had been through. They had both lost their loved ones in the war, and they both still had people to care for. Joffrey had to protect Aegon, the only surviving brother to his knowledge, and Daeron had to protect Jaehaera, the only remaining one who shared his blood. They were both dragon riders who had lost their dragons. They had both been princes. They were both third sons.

Joffrey could go on, but the thing was, Daeron was the only one who understood. He never asked Joffrey to release him, because he knew his existence would raise havoc. He just stayed here, in a cramped cell stinking of piss, and waited for Joffrey’s visit. Just as he had said earlier, he would have gone mad a long time ago if not for Joffrey’s visits. They needed each other to stay sane.

Joffrey bit his lower lip and let out a muffled moan in his throat. He spread his legs further to give Daeron more access. He could not speak, neither could he give Daeron any hope or promise, but he knew Daeron would understand.

They came at the same time. Joffrey’s cock spilled hot seeds on the cloak, while Daeron emptied his load inside Joffrey. They stayed there for a moment before Daeron pulled out, letting the sticky liquid leak from Joffrey’s breathing entrance.

As the euphoria faded, Joffrey began to feel incredibly cold. The cold spread from inside him, like a needle pricking at his veins. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed being fucked by Daeron, the murderer of three dragons and a Green leech. How dishonorable of him. He was not fit to rule. That was why he had cut himself on the iron throne today.

“I hate you.” Joffrey said, determined not to let the tears fall, “I fucking hate you. You can die in the most painful way, but it will still not be enough to make up for your crime.”

“I know.” Daeron said after a long pause, “See you later, Joffrey.”

When Joffrey went back to his room, he wondered whether Daeron had understood the true meaning of his curse. By hating Daeron, he actually hated himself.

Joffrey was confident that Daeron would.

[hecateisalesbian]

i was just wondering how grimwalkers worked exactly? I've been around the fandom enough to know that Hunter is one, but is it like a clone type situation? and yes, you do get the title of "official toh person" in my mind!!

Loving how you ask like the one thing I put the least amount of research into 😭

In this shot we can see a recipe or “cookbook” of grimwalkers which can give us a lot of clues.

A galderstone (heart and power)

palistrom wood (keratin)

stonesleeper lungs

selkidomous scales

bones of ORTET

of course there’s little scribbles of words that are also probably important scattered around the page but this is the decipherable part.

The galderstone itself had a whole episode (Through the Looking Glass Ruins if I remember correctly) in which we saw how its power could be used. The Galderstone (in my theory) channels the power from all the other magical items enough to make them work in harmony and create a functioning clone but not enough (either from the weakness of the galderstone or the fact that those items alone don’t possess the same magic as a bile sac) to give a grimwalkers it’s own magic (hence artificial staff for Hunter before he met Flap).

Palistrom Wood has many episodes showing how it’s used and its importance. On the cookbook it’s listed for Keratin. Keratin is what’s makes your hair, nails, and skin. (“Keratin is a protein that helps form hair, nails and your skin's outer layer (epidermis). It helps support your skin, heal wounds and keep your nails and hair healthy. ”) So palistrom wood is like the outer workings of a grimwalker. Giving it a more human/witchy like look instead of a weird jumble of magic ingredients. We’ve seen that palistrom wood functions in magical ways (see string bean) so I wouldn’t be surprised if perhaps it was also the muscle of a grimwalker. What makes it move.

Stonesleeper lungs don’t seem to have any specific use listed. However, in Elsewhere and Elsewhen, we know that the Stonesleeper found in the Titans Skull had been hibernating for a (very) long time. I think the Stonesleeper lungs are what allows grimwalkers to grow in the dirt for years before being used (see For the Future goopy Belos trying to possess a remaining clone which rises from a dirt bed). Selkidomous scales also don’t have a use listed. Selkidomous’s however had two facts revealed about them in Separate Tides. Their puke (?) is extremely rare and high valued, and that they can swim in the boiling sea (most likely one of the only animals able to do so). I doubt the selkidomous’s gold puke would have much use to making a clone, especially considering how the value of it could’ve gone up or down since Belos began creating grimwalkers like 300 ish years ago (also I doubt Belos wrote that cookbook himself so I wouldn’t be surprised if making grimwalkers is a practice hundreds or thousands of years old). So I think their scales are used as a protection of some sort. After all, if they can survive the boiling sea they can survive multiple things on land. I think these might’ve doubled in use for a sort or keratin like usage.

Finally, Bones of ORTET. The word ortet is written in a strange way compared to the rest of the text. But a quick search on the Google Web says this:

So, essentially, “the original of the clone”. What does a human body have a lot of that doesn’t decay quickly? Bones. Over 200 of them. Over two hundred possibilities of grimwalkers over hundreds of years. I’m sure the boiling isles/Belos made lots of discoveries about bones and the true potential of them when making grimwalkers that we don’t know that would make a very easy cloning process but I think these bones would be combined with other bones or perhaps had the DNA/marrow (idk I’m not a doctor I’m using words I’ve seen in greys anatomy for this) sucked (?) out of it and combined with other listed ingredients to make a “test tube baby” from which it could be planted in the ground like a seed and left to grow for years. I don’t know how long or how Belos would explain for the lack of memory in Caleb Clones time in the dirt, but in For the Future the Caleb Clone that rises and then decays looks about the same age as Hunter. Darius also says he knew Hunters predecessor (Darius is 40 ish). So I doubt grimwalkers grow in the dirt any longer than 15 years, and gaps in memory I’m sure are replaced with fake ones by Belos or said to be amnesia from a childhood trauma.

I would dive into the graphic on the left page of the cookbook buts it’s too blurry and vague for me to truly make out a good theory.

There are most likely more ingredients than just those few but I think those are the most important ones. Also, when Flapjack gives his life for hunters (😭), Hunter gains the natural magic ability of regular palistrom wood, much like Belos used the magic from palismen to keep his false magic working and also to keep him from turning into goo. Palistrom woods is definitely a powerful source of magic, if not the most powerful source of magic, second to maybe a Titan.

So yes, a Grimwalker is essentially a clone made from the DNA of something/someone and with other magical ingredients. Though it’s definitely not a perfect cloning device, seeing the multiple variations Belos’s grimwalkers had and Belos saying “you look the most like him.” Anyways that’s my take hope it helps! If you have more questions I will be happy to answer :D