#idk if the readmore will work

[mumblesplash]

part 2!!!! [read part one here]

transcript below the cut arranged into stanzas to help show where the rhymes are:

“that’s why they brought gem in? as a failsafe?” as a pawn. we were told to point her at whoever we need gone

“gem won’t hurt her allies. …yet.” the curse she carries will it’s had its eye on her since she lost the other eye she was specially selected for her hunting skill it’s quite the high honor. “wow. how generous.” we try

think about it: why does almost no one fight the curse? “given how fast scott killed skizz last season, i can guess.” [“any pain you spare your friends, you’ll have to suffer worse”?] it’s designed to shut down higher reasoning with stress

[kelocitta]

In honor of the @rw-ship-showdown I wanted to write about Artihunter as someone who jokingly slapped them together pre-downpour and still thinks they are actually very compelling. Just not in the super soft love wins kinda way (Although I get why people like that more) And the only way I know how to do that is talking too much so heres a far too long slug essay-

Obviously the slugcats don't offer a ton of characterization but theres not nothing to work with. Their stories, whether by their roles in it or the overarching themes do provide a backbone to work with. Even gameplay itself can provide a bit. (for some more than others) Hunter, to me, is ultimately a story about selflessness. The goal is to revive Moon, which is very much an act of kindness from both Hunter and NSH. But the weight of that action is much more significant for Hunter- Hunter is deeply sick. They're on the clock, and for all their skill in combat none of that will ultimately help them to survive longer than their body can hold out. Moon is a close friend of NSH but that means little Hunter- Hunter really gets next to nothing out of helping them, and ultimately pays quiet a bit spending their limited time alive fighting to deliver that neuron so that someone else can live.

To spend ones limited days on helping another, in a game that very much stresses the unwavering cruelty of the world and nature- is pretty notable. (And you could even say that Hunter being the Hardmode of Rain World adds another layer to this)

And then we have Artificer. A storyline that very much stands out to people as more… villainous (so to speak) than the other slugcats. Artificer's story covers a lot of things. Trauma, violence, revenge, etc. Revenge is a bit of a selfish desire- That need to see someone hurt as they have hurt you. A punishment that ultimately does not fix whatever harm was done- but feels good to see because you were hurt and now those responsible share that pain.

Artificer's actions are founded in that need for revenge, their pups killed for overstepping boundaries they didn't know existed. Is it not fair for them to be angry at that, to punish the scavengers for their violence with their own? Why should the scavengers ever be forgiven when they and their pups were not? And that's how you get that loop- Harm for harm over and over.

The original action has been lost in a spiral of violence for violence. And here stands Artificer- their very spirit scarred. Not just because they sought revenge, but because they never ceased trying to scratch that itch for violence as an answer. Artificer only has two paths for their story- killing the scavenger king (Someone who, really, has little to do with the original 'crime' of the scavengers, but represents an important individual to them- as did the slugpups to Artificer), locking themselves as karma one for good and spending the rest of their life chasing creatures that no longer even fight back in a warped sense of closure- or to dissolve themselves in the acids of the void sea because they're too far gone to find any real peace.

They can't meaningfully recover from that state, not alone, twisting in on themselves. Even if they halt their actions, they've been using violence as a feeble defense against their own pain- violence that no longer has any real direction or basis. Artificer gets no real closure from killing the scavenger king. All they can do is continue the cycle, or try to scrub it away. No real peace in a prison of their own making. So you have a creature, who even with a strict timer on their life- a body that will crumble to disease, spends its last bit of time on saving another. And another who was so caught up in the pain of loss that were eaten alive by their own anger, poisoned their own soul on such a deep level even self-proclaimed gods have no solution for them. What peace can they offer each other? For Hunter, its only a fleeting moment of happiness- of selfish love, before their own body fails them. A bit of indulgence in something for themself. For Artificer, its a single, comforting thread to ground them again, something tangible to protect and care about again. But thats a thread that will ultimately be snapped under the cruel indifference of the world. Hunters timer will tick down regardless of if it takes another with it. Its a tragedy- its doomed to end badly. Whatever good it offers to either of them to find each other will only provide the fleeting comfort of a band-aid that will be ripped away too early. But all that can be worth indulging in anyway, if only for the moment. It doesn't change the ending, but the ending was never going to be happy. Its can so yuri

[dnsleif]

a/n: self indulgent little silly moment with alhaitham after you two confess to each other… cannot be serious for one second with this guy like hes just too fun to tease

you suddenly stopped in your tracks. alhaitham, noticing your halt, stopped as well. he turned his head to look behind him, emerald eyes staring back at you followed by a slight raise of his brow.

“so, since you, the acting grand sage, are so madly in love with me,” you look at him as you speak, a teasing smile making its way across your face. “can i please get a raise?”

the acting grand sage in question let out nothing more than a chuckle (or a scoff, perhaps) before turning away from you. as he started to walk away, you quickly ran towards him.

“wait, haitham!” you shouted while running towards the man whose steps were quickening.

when you finally caught up to him, there was a smile on his face— one you couldn’t see when chasing his back. you grabbed onto his arm and looked at the man beside you, a similar smile on your face as he looks to you.

you started to speak once again (although, alhaitham really wished you hadn’t) “you know i was serious, right?”

[marcygoo]

soooo uh! ref sheet for. um. this thing. flesha. tescyn. cynessa. whatever you wanna call it. cus i kinda got sick of not having all my references for it in one place & basically drawing it with a different design every single time. also because i might be able to get art class points for it. i tried to be as faithful as i could to canon with this so 0 headcanon stuff and an EXTREMELY limited amount of interpreting little details.

feel free 2 use this as a reference if you want. use the color palette. i dont care go ham go crazy do whatevr u want (within reason obviously.)

(PS: you probably should click on this to zoom in and stuff cus like WOW this image is big. im surprised mspaint didnt run out of storage while i was drawing it. also, closeup on the first one cus im proud of it & a version with flat colors under the cut ! :3)

[riddlerosehearts]

list of acd canon sherlock holmes things i absolutely love

(and am going to mostly put under a readmore because i made most of this list while rereading the entire canon so it is very long! listen i just think sherlock holmes is the best character ever and i need to share my love for him--)

immediately upon being introduced to watson he grabs him by the sleeve, starts excitedly showing off his bloodstain testing experiment, and claps his hands “looking as delighted as a child with a new toy”. once he finishes, his eyes glitter and he puts his hand on his heart and bows “as if to some applauding crowd conjured up by his imagination”.

watson: “i object to rows because my nerves are shaken”

holmes: “do you include violin playing in your category of rows?” he asked, anxiously

he’s noted to be extraordinarily knowledgeable and zealous in his studies, and yet on the same page it’s stated that he doesn’t know the earth travels around the sun and once watson tells him about it he immediately decides to forget about it because it’s not relevant to his work. this is where the famous “brain attic” monologue comes in.

watson writes this list about him and then throws it into the fire in despair:

has a habit of laughing in a way that’s described as bursting into an “explosion” or “roar” of laughter

frequently does this at crime scenes:

enlists a gang of street orphans to help him on his cases, pays them for their work, and generally treats them as equals but also playfully talks to them like a general to his soldiers

plays the violin for watson to help him get to sleep

is incredibly knowledgable on anything from different types of tobacco, to the ways one's trade can influence the form of their hands, to medieval pottery and stradivarus violins. and yet, i reiterate, does not know the earth revolves around the sun.

has a tendency of waxing poetic about the meaningless of existence, particularly when he’s bored from not having any cases to work on

once said about a dog “i would rather have toby’s help than that of the whole detective force of london”

used the word “doggy” when speaking to toby

once told watson “i don’t wish to be theatrical” despite all evidence to the contrary

disguises himself as an old man just to play a prank on watson

watson: “i think i had better go”

holmes: “not at all, doctor. stay where you are. i am lost without my boswell.”

is known to wiggle in his chair when he gets excited about a case

discovers that a man has tricked his own stepdaughter into a fake marriage so he can keep her at home and control her life and inheritance. acknowledges that said man hasn’t done anything illegal but still tells him “there never was a man who deserved punishment more” and that he ought to get whipped for what he did, and then goes to actually get his hunting crop, causing the man to run out the door at top speed

let a criminal go free because it turned out the man he murdered was trying to force said criminal’s daughter into an unwanted marriage

was suddenly made to participate in the wedding of someone he was tracking for a case, came home and laughed about it for several minutes, exclaimed “well, really!”, laughed for several more minutes, and only then did he actually tell watson what happened

responds to the king of bohemia insulting irene adler and saying she’s not on his level by saying coldly: “from what i have seen of the lady, she seems indeed to be on a very different level to your majesty”, which is basically him saying “actually she’s way better than you, so fuck off”

refused to shake said king’s hand

built a pillow fort in a client’s house so he could think better

let a poor jewel thief go because he cried, because it was christmas and therefore it was the season of forgiveness, and because the case was really easy anyway so it’s not his fault if the police are too stupid to solve it themselves

always reassures clients that they can trust him and watson and speak freely around them

is willing to waive his fee for clients who can’t afford to pay him, because according to him his profession is its own reward

this entire scene from speckled band when he gets confronted by his client’s abusive stepfather:

this nice little example of the gentleness he often displays with his clients:

the adventure of the copper beeches. just, all of it. a woman he doesn’t know comes to holmes for advice about a potential job she’s interviewed for and they both agree it sounds incredibly sketchy, she says she’s gonna take it anyway because she needs the money, and he’s like “well i wouldn’t want any sister of mine doing something like this but FINE i guess, just please write to us and let us know if you’re okay and if anything bad happens we’ll drop everything and come help you immediately”, and then the job does in fact turn out to be super sketchy and they drop everything and get on a train as soon as she writes to them

sometimes spends several hours out on walks through the park or the town with watson just relaxing and talking with him for the sake of it, despite watson frequently noting that holmes doesn’t have much appreciation for nature

“we have had the good fortune to bring peace to many troubled souls. i trust that we may do the same for you,” he says “in his easy, genial way” to a potential client who’s clearly very upset and sleep-deprived

is completely wrong about a particular case and asks watson to remind him of that case next time he gets overconfident

is noted by watson to be very neat and methodical in his methods and way of dress, while simultaneously being one of the messiest people ever who keeps his tobacco inside a persian slipper and his unopened letters held up by a knife in the center of his mantelpiece, keeps tons of criminal relics which apparently somehow end up in the butter dish sometimes, and keeps countless stacks of papers and documents all over the place

tells watson anecdotes about his past just to avoid cleaning up said documents

deliberately knocks over a table, shattering a glass fruit bowl which then sends oranges rolling all over the room, and then blames it on watson and runs away

says snarky things like “when gregson or lestrade are out of their depth–which, by the way, is their normal state” and “you’ve done very well, watson! it’s too bad you’ve missed everything of importance”

laughs when watson suggests he’s being modest about his abilities

picked up a rose and got all sappy and poetic about it

more specifically, picked up a rose and said that religion can be a science which involves a lot of careful deduction, and that flowers are a source of hope and proof of the goodness of god due to the fact that they aren’t a necessary part of life but are still so beautiful anyway

recovered an incredibly valuable government treaty for a client and had it served to him on a platter at breakfast because, in his own words, he “never can resist a touch of the dramatic”

faked his death and then revealed to watson that he was still alive in a manner that even he admitted was unnecessarily dramatic

had a full-scale wax model of himself created and used it to fool his enemies

made a diagram out of breadcrumbs to explain something to watson

broke into a blackmailer’s house for a case because he believed it to be morally justifiable, and admitted that he always thought he might make a good criminal

held watson’s hand while they were burgling said house together

twice

allowed said blackmailer to be murdered in front of him by one of his victims and then refused to take the case when asked because he just hated the guy that much

“flushed up with pleasure” when watson complimented him

asked watson to sell his medical practice and move back into 221b with him after the death of his wife. and then secretly gave a relative of his a ton of money to buy watson’s medical practice at the highest price watson would ask for, just so they could live together again

was nearly brought to tears by lestrade saying he was proud of him

let a dog lead him around on a case, multiple times in different stories

was very gentle with a client who he knew to be the victim of an abusive marriage and allowed the man who killed her husband to go free out of sympathy for their situation

noticed watson looking sad and touching his war wound and tried to cheer him up by echoing his thoughts and providing a deduction of how he knew what he was thinking

mentioned watson’s sparkling eyes in said deduction

talked about nothing but violins and his favorite violinist for an hour while he and watson had lunch together

likes going to classical music concerts and getting lost in the music

does scrapbooking

chuckles and rubs his hands together when he’s happy

this:

takes getting called "the devil himself" as a compliment

let a killer go because he had only killed in retaliation for the unjust murder of his lover, and holmes felt that he might’ve done the same if someone were to kill the woman he loved

on a completely unrelated note tells a guy who shoots watson “if you had killed watson you would not have got out of this room alive”

also reacted like this when watson got shot:

went undercover to supposedly give a guy secret government intelligence documents, and then gave him a book about bees instead

frequently disguised himself either for cases or just to fool watson and was noted to be a great actor

once disguised himself as an old woman with a parasol

tried the best he could to talk a young woman out of marrying a man who had a history of “collecting” women for sport and destroying their lives, and admitted to watson that he thought of her as he would think of his own daughter

was prone to “imp-like moods”

sent watson a message to come over at once ("if convenient--if inconvenient come all the same") just so he could infodump to him about dogs

wasn’t surprised that a dog died of grief shortly after its owner’s death, because of “the beautiful, faithful nature of dogs”

listened with great sympathy to a depressed woman who wanted to tell him her tragic story, picked up on hints that she was planning to commit suicide, talked her out of it by convincing her that her life does have value and then called her brave for choosing to live

got lost in thought looking out the window at the publicly funded elementary schools and randomly went on about how he believes they and the children who attend them are beacons of a brighter future

made hot cocoa for watson

shook hands with a baby

retired to the countryside to live on a farm and become a beekeeper.

[creatively-cosmic]

leaf and blue friendship can be so silly. their modern relationship is complicated but idc i thought this would be funny

.....and this chucklefuck is here i guess

[sonknuxadow]

knuckles series spoilers like actual spoilers not just me vaguely talking about my feelings

i cant believe they put iblis in the sonic movies before amy . what timeline are we in . sorry i was gonna hold out for a litlte bit on saying anything that could be an actual spoiler but i literally cant stop thinking about Giant Iblis Puppet Jumpscare . also for people who didnt actually watch it and are reading the posts about it this happens when wade is knocked out and sent to the magic ghost dimension and meets pachacamac and theres a musical number where wade is in a knuckles costume acting out knuckles' life so far and the giant iblis puppet shows up because apparently knuckles has fought iblis before??? and the iblis puppet is holding a laptop singing about facebook marketplace. im not lying i couldnt even make this up if i tried

also when i say "damn cant believe iblis got in before amy" i understand that amy would have been harder to incorporate its just wild that this happened. does that make sense. idk

[skyward-floored]

How do you even tell people you're not okay and what even constitutes 'not okay' anyway because in the grand scheme of things I'm actually doing fine and compared to a few years ago I'm doing great but it's like I'm just. errrrgh. emotions are stupid.

[isaut]

𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆— f!reader x captain rex. 1.2k. ao3

rex is back on the fleet ship. he's completely on task, like he always is... previous. masterlist.

The fleet ship hums around Rex. He sits in one of the deck chairs, eyes trained on the datapad in front of him. It's the report from the last mission, he really needs to be focusing on this, this needs to be done tonight… Instead, his mind cannot stay focused. He needs to take a cold shower, with the images that keep flashing through his mind. 

Espresso. Sweet cookies. Sweetness. Warmth. The images aren’t even stale, he can still feel your hand wrapped around him, separated by the thin of a condom. 

“Hey.” 

Rex still hasn’t forgotten the tightness, the squeeze right before the climax. The wetness all over him. Gods, the wetness all over him. The mournful way he’d cleaned himself up in the bathroom.

“Hey.” 

The second interruption is accompanied by a pair of hands landing on his shoulders. Rex startles, which is very unlike him. He looks over his shoulder and is met with General Skywalker’s familiar face. 

Immediately, he snaps to attention. Stands up, still holding the datapad. “General, I didn’t notice you.” 

“I figured.” Anakin waves his hand and Rex relaxes his stance. “I have two things. One, do you have the reports done? Plo is asking for them.” 

“Almost done, sir.” Shit. 

“And two, you’re thinking really loud.” Anakin bites down on the inside of his cheek to hide the smile forming on his face. “Like really loud.” 

Embarrassment courses through Rex’s body. Suddenly, his suit is a thousand degrees. Jedi and their sensitivity. This time he doesn’t have the cover of his brothers and the exhaustion of battle to keep from the prodding. 

“Glad you had fun on Naboo,” Anakin says, his grin escaping from his teeth. “Again.”

Rex clears his throat. “I should really get back to the report.” 

“Sure,” Anakin says. He turns to leave, then stands in front of the doorway. “Hey, better me than Plo, right?” 

“Yessir,” Rex replies, feeling even warmer. 

Anakin places his hand over his heart. “They’re something else. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Anakin’s words rattle in his brain: women from Naboo are something else. Rex swallows. And “Thank you, sir.” 

Anakin gives him a lazy salute. The doors slide open, and leaves Rex alone in the room. With a long exhale, Rex looks out to the endless darkness of the galaxy. He rubs his hand over his hair, collapsing back into his seat. 

With his exhaustion, Rex treats himself to a warm shower. The fourth shower stall on the second hall of the captain’s area in the barracks is the best one. It has the best shower pressure, has the purple shampoo, and the cucumber body wash. Rex likes his showers in the middle of the night to ensure that there’s no one else using it. Out of over fifty showers, he doesn’t think it gets used often. 

The sound of the water coming from the faucet, combined with the sound of shower shoes on tile, is the only noise in the area. The pitter patter is almost meditative. Rex’s mind wanders, floating about as he stares at the white tiles. You have nice tiles, a creative mosaic in your bathroom. Everything on Naboo seems artisanal, down to the way you live. The way you talk. The way you touch. 

Rex’s hand hovers over the shower knob. He should go to bed. There’s an uncomfortable hardness brewing between his legs. He should blast himself with cold water and go to bed. Cold water is good for his hair. 

But the water is warm. It’s adding a red hue to his skin. He’s comfortable. It’s cold on the ship. It’ll be cold in his room. It’s– 

Rex’s hand slides down his pelvis, until the conjuncture of his thumb and first finger meets the base of his cock. He hesitates for a moment, looking down his chest. Water slips past him, over his head and down the sides of his face. 

He thinks about your shower. He thinks about you in your shower. He pumps himself to the thought of all your exposed skin, warmed by the steady stream of warm water. He imagines that you take hot showers, scalding hot showers, just like him. He imagines that you’d be impressed that he indulges in hot showers. 

A sigh leaves his lips as his fist travels towards his head then back down. He inhales, deep, as he presses his free hand against the wall and leans forward. Another shaky breath as he passes his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading a speck of precome over the growing head. 

Rex swallows. His hand is no way comparable to yours, it’s too broad, too rough. There’s no softness. There’s a gentleness that he simply cannot match. 

He replays a common memory for him now. You, straddling him. Hand between your thighs, reaching for his cock. The feeling of his fingers bumping up against yours. The warmth as you sunk down on him. The look on your face, the pinched brows, the open mouth, the little moan from the back of your throat. 

Rex almost mimics it, but it comes out as a heavy sigh. 

Then there’s all your skin flashing through his mind. The vanilla, the rose, the shea butter. The taste of coffee on your tongue. Your tongue. Soft and moving against his– Rex twists his wrist. Another shaky breath escapes his lips. 

Truly, Rex doesn’t know how he lasted so long. His short timeframe had been a blessing, had been able to hide that he easily could have come just from sinking into you, from the feeling of your walls pulsing around him from the–

Rex’s jaw hinges open. His eyes squeeze shut. He rests his forehead against the hand pressing against the wall. Milky white spills from the head of his cock. Rex’s thigh shakes. 

He pumps himself as he comes, pumps himself after he’s finished, until he’s a hair tender. Only because he imagines you would do the same thing, with a breathy smile on your lips and a glimmer in your eye. 

Rex stands under the scalding spray, watching the water wash away his release. He takes gulps of steamy air. Unhooks his washcloth and pumps body wash onto the cloth. 

He washes his legs again, and while the cloth rubs over his thighs, he tries not to think of your lips there, of your tongue there, doing what his cloth is doing currently. He tries not to think of you doing exactly what he’s doing, cleaning himself off. He thinks, instead, of cleaning you up. Of the cloth against your thighs, of the essence he had to swipe away. 

He should have used his tongue. 

Rex shuts the water off. 

It’s silent, in the shower hall. He towels himself off in the stall, and changes in the open. With his towel slung over his shoulder, he walks back to his room. 

It’s small. Just a bed on metal and a little counter, a little mirror. Rex hangs up his towel and comes over to his neatly made bed. He reaches a hand under the mattress and pulls out the little sticky note with your frequency on it. 

(17) 21-54-9875-6720

Rex has stared at it for a long time. Has dragged his thumb over the penned in numbers. The 9875-6720 stares out at him. Calls out to him. 75-67. 

Rex tucks the paper back under his mattress. He turns out the light. Flops onto his back. Stares up at the ceiling, at the blinking, red light there. It could go off any second, calling him into action. 

The Force works in mysterious ways. Rex rolls over to his stomach. Wraps an arm around his pillow. Closes his eyes. Sleep finds him, and dreams cradle him against her warm chest.

[sn0wbat]

← part 1 🦇

fun fact, they are almost the same age frida was when rune went to sleep. funny how time works

[vipervvitch]

Color Magic

What is color magic?

Color magic is utilizing the correspondences of a certain color in witchcraft/magic. It can help hone intentions in a spell, or establish the intent uniquely on its own. You can use it anywhere within a spell, especially to nudge it in the right direction.

What are ways I can use color magic in spells?

Commonly, you’ll see people use color magic in candle spells. People often recommend pink candles for beauty and love spells, because they associate pink with beauty and love, etc. What each color means, though, is up to the witch’s individual associations, alike every other correspondence. Since everything has a color, you can really use it anywhere. The color of the paper or ink of a petition, adding food coloring to a potion, using a colored rope for knot magic, literally anything. Even in the little things! The spoon you use to stir that potion, the body of the lighter you use to light the candle, the handles of the scissors you use to cut the rope, etc. Of course, as I’m about to say, you don’t NEED to pay attention to any of these things…

What if I have to use the “wrong color” in some part of a spell?

Say you’re doing a candle spell to attract new friends. You personally find a yellow candle ideal, because you associate yellow with happiness and friendship, but all you have is a green candle, which is a color you associate with money, and that’s not at all relevant to the spell. It’d also be best to probably ignore that correspondence with money, lest you attract friends who only care about spending your money or about the things you own, and not you personally. There are multiple solutions to this, some of them being:

1. You can ignore the color and focus on other aspects of the candle. You don’t need to account for every little thing in a spell, and if you don’t focus on the color of the candle and your correspondences regarding green, then it’ll have no effect.

2. You could overpower the color with other physical traits. Carving sigils and stuff into the wax might overpower the influence that the color has and give an alternative physical property of the candle to focus on that has a more relevant meaning.

3. You can consider other meanings of green and see how green COULD be relevant to your spell somehow. Green means go, right? You could say the green is allowing new friendships into your life that way. Nothing, imo, has a single use or correspondence.

4. But even so, if you only associate green with money, you could tie that in to your spell as well. You could attract friends who encourage you to have better spending habits, or have connections with people who could find you a better job.

5. You could look at the relationship that green has with other colors. Green, after all, is a mix of yellow and blue. You could therefore use it as a way to combine the correspondences of yellow and blue. If yellow means happiness, and blue means calmness, then green could bring you a friendship that’s both happy and calming. It’s also across from red on the color wheel. If red means angry, then being across from red could discourage fights in your friendship and make things easier.

These aren’t the only solutions, either. Witchcraft is largely about creativity. There’s an infinite amount of ways to approach spellcraft.

Subtle/easy ways to use color magic?

As a closeted and disabled witch, color magic is EXTREMELY helpful to me in my everyday life. I can start my day off with a little magic by deliberately choosing to wear a certain color in my outfit—even in places nobody else will see, like the color of my socks (which i like especially because I imagine them carrying me to that outcome that I want). If you paint your nails, put on makeup, or wear jewelry, that gives you many options for incorporating certain colors as well.

I buy things considering the color. I have a blue hairbrush because I want my hair to flow smoothly like water. I use a green mechanical pencil because I want to write down the correct answers.

If I can’t make an intricate potion, I can choose to drink coffee out of a yellow mug that morning to subtly enchant my drink to encourage a happy day.

Also, I have LED light strips in my room that I like to change to a specific color in order to paint my day and actions in my room with that magic as well. For example, when I’m studying, I like to turn my lights blue because I associate it with intelligence, memory, and calmness—and I don’t want to be any more stressed than I already am lol. I don’t do any chants or ritual work or anything special to “activate” or cast these “spells” aside from intentionally using these colors for those purposes, which makes it extra subtle. Nobody suspects that you chose to paint your nails pink because you’re using magic to attract more romance to your life. Nobody thinks anything about the fact that you chose to put on orange LED lights in your room because its the color you associate with your deity, and you want to include them some more. It’s super helpful, and extremely accessible.

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

warning for major fate/samurai remnant late game spoilers under the cut, specifically for rider

i desperately need them to explain how on earth raikou, the half diving child of indra, runs the risk of acting like this at all times while meanwhile her half brother arjuna is like, just some guy

like the irl reason is probably to do with the different framing indra has in india vs gozu tennoh in japan but its incredible to see this while one of indra's other kids, who's equally divine, is in the same game and has no noticeable bouts of insanity over it

(and before anyone brings up arjuna alter he IS specifically an abnormality from the whole lostbelt situation and wouldnt happen in a normal situation)

[izzy-b-hands]

I keep forgetting I can't seem to get the current version of xkit to work on my new laptop and going to do stuff that it let me do fjldksafjdlsaj

[commander-gloryforge]

ougghhgggg oc thoughts coming to me when im trying to sleep so get blasted by nonsensical pointless ambrose rambles

“we were raised to hate eachother, ambrose. you were born to hate me.” isn’t it crazy how ambrose’s literal only purpose in life was to be better than his own cousin. like that was the only reason he lived. and then he cut himself away from that family and he lost his purpose completely. when he left and then killed his father, his purpose died with him; he was raised to only be one thing and he literally doesn’t know what else he exists for,

seven years later it’s probably hitting him the most, with his friends being so grand and having so much happen to them, with those freaks that get into constant trouble, that are their own main characters, he’s left wondering: why am i even here? why do i still exist when i failed my purpose forever?

sebastian only added to that. even when ambrose was with him, he had one purpose, and that was to entertain him and be bad and dark and the evil,little secret. they broke up and ambrose lost that purpose once again. now he’s left without anything. sebastian at least needed him. he used him, yes, he was a toy, but still a toy sebastian liked playing with. sebastian gave him a meaning and a reason to be, even though it was horrible and toxic and manipulative. and now look at ambrose, who can no longer find a worth in himself because he isn’t anyones tool anymore, because nobody is giving him a reason. instead he’s realising how, in fact, not special he is.

his friends are agents and spies and time travellers and alive dead people haunted by false gods and heroes and THE COMMANDER. and he is nobody. not anymore. yes, ambrose chose to be nobody, but still. there’s no reason he’s still here. no reason he’s still going. magda becoming the heir put the nail in the coffin.

ambrose was born to do one thing, and he failed. and if he failed at the one thing his life was dedicated to, how is he going to succeed at anything else?

[magic-is-something-we-create]

if you have no idea what im talking about, these are the intros im referencing!! i still have several lined up for posting (namely the main antag and the eternal three) and a Very Long List of other intros to eventually do for the series, but i want to know what y'all would like to see once the current backlog is posted!!

[caluski]

what is it about like... not being openly rejected. not being actively cut out of other peoples lives.. not being that toxic or evil ex lover or friend, but just like.. someone thats just like. existing out there. i know people talk constantly about not fitting in, not feeling like others, and yet you also see these very people falling happily in love, finding friends, having shoulders to cry on and people to party with. and then theres me which is like... just.. someone everyones indifferent to? and i dont understand why. people are nice to me, people can talk and joke around with me if the situation leads to it (like at work or school or whatever) and even when they see me on the street theyll say hi and laugh and smile and hug or kiss me hello. i dont doubt that theres people out there who hate me, who think im horrible and toxic, of course.. but most people seem fine with me. and yet for no one i am like..... in their lives as anything else but a passerby. i am good enough to be vented to during a breakup or health crisis or mental breakdown... but i am not good enough to be remembered when things are good. out of sight, out of mind.. my coworkers were tearing up when i was leaving, saying "we have to catch up! we have to go dancing together!" and yet whenever i would try to ask them about it directly or with careful implication it just felt like they didnt hear me. like they were tuned out. it must be something i am doing wrong because it keeps happening over and over and over and over again with so many genuinely nice and kind and friendly people. but i have no fucking idea what is it. and how many more potential friendships with people will i ruin until i finally fucking learn how to fix it. am i just forever doomed to be like the background character in a cheap cartoon. sure i have a design, but i dont have any speaking lines, or personality, or significance