#must be magic etc etc

[olibavee]

studying doodle...

[justaz]

im not a fan of modern merthur but the idea of them meeting in modern times and introducing themselves to each other and them laughing and bonding over their names being connected to the myth of king arthur and camelot is just so cute

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[thedeadthree]

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ➸ irulanne . the rook .

𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 . 𝐄𝐋𝐅 . 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄 .

-`. template by @kanos . coloring . icons .

✧ ― 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (ask to be added or removed or interact 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞!!):

@pavus, @wlwaerith, @shadowsofrose, @grapecaseschoices, @nokstella

@queennymeria, @risingsh0t, @carrionsflower, @leviiackrman, @griffin-wood

@confidentandgood, @aceghosts, @tommyarashikage, @shadowglens, @yharnams

@anoras, @theelderhazelnut, @florbelles, @celticwoman, @pinkfey

@kyberinfinitygems, @cloudofbutterflies92, @carlosoliveiraa, @shellibisshe, @adelaidedrubman

@lavampira, @capelizabeth, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @statichvm, @unholymilf

@aezyrraeshh, @imogenkol, @aceghosts, @full---ofstarlight, @ellierenae

[millenianthemums]

parents of disabled kids will be like “we know our kid is disabled but we just won’t tell them about it. we don’t want them to think they’re less valuable than other kids. we don’t want them to feel limited by their disability, we want them to know they’re capable of anything.”

meanwhile those kids are growing up thinking “why is everything so much harder for me than it is for everyone else? there’s no reason i shouldn’t be able to just do this. i guess i’m just a failed, broken person.”

[gingermintpepper]

Hi!! I don't know if you remember me, but I'm the person you explained the Castalia thing to a few days ago. I've been following you for a while now, but I just managed to go through your blog well and proper, and I'm here to express both my gratitude for the amount of info and links you've shared (I did NOT know about the hepatoscopy and haruspicy, and I'm about to go down a lengthy rabbit hole) and my horror at once again being given a new hyperfixation (I didn't imagine wanting to read about liver-divination help).

Also, also, are you the author of Exeunt Phoebus Apollo on AO3 because that was the fic that sent me on this greek mythology spree, and it's so good I got obsessed with Apollo, and he's everywhere around me now. Thank you for writing it!

AAAAAA THIS IS SO SWEET?? THANK YOU!! I do remember you and hey man, I'm always happy to help <33

I'm so glad to recruit someone else to my hepatoscopy group because it is a long and storied tradition with many many different types of study and schools of thought dating all the way back to the Sumerians! It's an extremely underrated bit of study when it comes to sketching portraits of divination and prophecy when it comes to adaptations of imaginings of greek myth works - similar to bird augury (which was such a widespread skill that most people had some level of understanding of the basics of what the omens of common birds meant the way people now can look at the clouds over head and know if it'll rain and when approximately that rain'll happen).

It's a great and common misunderstanding that things like prophecy and magic were these fantastic elements that had no tangible features to their practices and while there's nothing wrong with interpreting things as more fantastical for the sake of coolness or aesthetic, I personally think these elements are interesting enough to be worth looking into and portraying!

Also yes, I did write Exeunt 😳I'm very very honoured that you enjoyed my work so much and I'm even more grateful that it could let you see the Apollo in everything 💖 Thank you for reading it!!

[spark-circuit]

me at my bookstore job to the 27th young adult straight edgy fantasy romance to come in this month

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[lacnunga]

DO NOT GET DISTRACTED

[times-of-drought]

Storyteller Saturday! What is a Glass Demon?

Hello! Happy Storyteller Saturday! :3

The Glass Demon is Satan an ancient creature in the setting from one of my most polished plot-wise stories!

In the setting, the main kind of creature aside from humans is Elemental. There are many, many types of elementals, ranging from typical ones, like fire, to more uncommon ones, like light or even magic itself.

Unfortunately for both humanity and elementals, humans cannot inherently, directly create magic. It is not obtainable to them, simply put. They can, however, employ the 'help' of elementals, using them to craft more and more intricate spells or simply use magic for the human. A spell can be weaved by elementals and humans together, preparing it and storing it somewhere or in something (an artifact, an item, a scroll et cetera) and used by the human anytime, anywhere, so the profession of spellweavers who coordinate different kinds of elementals is highly respectable.

(It started out on rules of equality, but as elementals started being more and more exploited and bound by magical rules crafted by humans, less and less of them were free to do what they wanted and move where they wanted to. But that aspect of the kingdom where the story takes place is more about the story itself, not the Glass Demon fnksdj I got too far)(long story short, the kingdom 'employs' all elementals in it to serve humans. Every new elemental that is born there has to be woven into the pact, binding it like its parents.)

The Glass Demon is, at least now, more of a myth rather than a historical figure. A story told in plays and stories, The Bad Guy in any plot about overcoming the greatest evil. Everyone knows what the Glass Demon embodies, but almost nobody knows what really happened centuries ago.

There used to be a mage. The Mage, often called by haters The Sightless Mage. A real, full-blooded human, with all faults that came with that. They were power hungry, driven only by greed and pride. They were on top, with the greatest understanding of all intricacies of magic and spellweaving. They were not satisfied with that, however. They wanted to attain the unattainable - to be able to wield magic by themselves, with no assistance from elementals. It did not work out, to their dismay.

The only person who knows exactly how their current form came to be is the Glass Demon itself, but stories often involve the Mage employing dozens of elementals, experts in their craft, to help create the most foul artifact. It was supposed to be a new staff for the Mage, one that would allow them to directly use any kind of magic, with no preparation. Not a human, but still holding a copied human soul and The Mage's mind, causing them to be linked and have the same goals.

Well, the soul got copied and transferred, sure. One crucial bit of research The Mage missed to do before was that the soul is not linked to the body's mind. Transferring one does not inherently transfer the other.

I have to admit, the rule of the world was kept. What came out of the ritual was no human. But it was no staff, at least not after the first few seconds. A twisted form of sharp edges rang out the ritual circle, twitching surfaces and contorting in silent wails no-longer-flesh, seemingly shattered, constantly on the verge of falling apart in thousands of little, glittering pieces, The Glass Demon came to be. The first and last artificial elemental, albeit one with a human soul. At the beginning, the thing had no mind, only the most vile qualities inherited from the soul. In a bloody, murderous rage, it has slain its creator and their assistants. Alone, in a isolated vault, it has learned everything it could. Their form was not stable, constantly shifting and cracking with each step, but they have managed to at least vaguely hold a humanoid form. Full of hate, it started destroying everything they came across. Humans, elementals, villages and cities, nothing could resist the sharp, agonizing wrath.

Finally, after years of carnage, a counter-spell of sorts has been developed. Researchers found The Foul Mage's notes, their research, and crafted a binding curse.

Tricked, the Glass Demon was constricted into a shape similar to their original form - a silver staff the shape of a crescent moon, with the Demon's eye hanged between the tips, constantly looking out for victims.

The artifact not only has been sealed away, but additionally enveloped in layers of protective and offensive spells. Anyone who would try to reach the Demon would have to be an expert spellcaster, and after that whole debacle these have been strictly and closely monitored.

Not only that, but even if one managed to tear through all the layers, they still would have to be able to overcome the Demon, lest their form would be overwhelmed and destroyed by its power the moment they bound themselves to the staff just like a human would bind themselves to an elemental.

No human would have enough resistance to survive the binding and no elemental could bind itself to another, even if artificial, one.

Well. Until the main character of my story, Razareth, came along, a half human, half elemental ;)))

[malewifehenrycooldown]

Anti-facism, anti-captialism, community action and class solidarity IN MY FAIRY TAIL?!Surprisingly much more likely than you think or remembered!

[partyhorn]

I had a vision

[briar-rolfes-research-oubliette]

So, I recently read Jack Vance’s The Dying Earth,

Personally if I find out a woman has dark urges that the love of man can never quell, I say you go girl. Women are welcome to mock and defile my body and put me through foul degradations, if they want

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 12: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should rest for the night in an abandoned barn ...

~

Somewhat nervous about being out in the woods alone at night, he decides to try finding a more hidden sleeping spot, further off from the path. Though with his injuries, and his exhaustion, he knows he shouldn't walk too far. He tells himself that he'll just adventure a little, only an hour or so, and if he can't find anything better by then, he'll just give up and set a tent in some bushes somewhere......

After 30 minutes, he finally stumbles across an old barn. He can't see it very well with just a trickle of moonlight and the dull glow of his flickering lantern, but it seems to have not been used for many years. Structurally sound enough (at least he hopes), yet shrouded in moss and blankets of various overgrowth.. It takes a few moments to pluck away all of the ivy blocking his path, but he soon closes the rickety doors behind him to focus on the interior. There's no space to light a fire or set up a real tent, and he'll have to block a few holes in the walls so wild animals don't sneak in, but, there are a few surprisingly clear looking sections scattered amongst all the musty hay bales and cobwebs. He chooses a "cozy" spot in the corner, hidden behind a few dusty crates. Though he tosses about uncomfortably in his bedding for quite a while, he's eventually able to fall into a peaceful sleep.….....

.. Suddenly, he's startled awake by rustling, catching a dark blurred movement in front of him. He's smart enough to always sleep wearing his backpack over his chest so nobody could just grab it without him noticing, but it seems for the first time in all his travels... someone is actually trying to. Still half asleep, he clings to the bag and yelps, pushing and tumbling away into a moldy wooden barrel after an initial struggle. He pulls himself up to face the hooded figure now looming above him, entirely obscured aside from their vague cloak-ish shape outlined by the faint moonlight behind them.. The Adventurer calls out in a shaky attempt at an aggressive tone, "Wh-wh.. whAT are YOU DOIng? WHo-whu..UHHH??? aahhhG" "Give me the bag." The hooded figure speaks in a smooth, stern, yet calm voice, slowly taking a step forwards. The cat scrambles to The Adventurer's side, hissing and giving a low growl.. "w-WELL , uh,, sORRY , n-NO , I would rrrather not DO THAT, I h-- I uh-- I don't have even anythi- I don't even have ANYTHING, I mea- wh-wh HWaAt d-do I look RICH to you?? EUggh-" he gulps loudly, holding back nervous vomit, "B-BACK OFF!! you-.. f- uh.. THIEF!!!!!" The hooded figure pauses for a moment, as if re-strategizing how to approach the situation. "Look, kid, I don't want to hurt you. But I need you to give me that egg." "WHWh-what egg? I-I don.. DON'T have an EGG, I'm uh…aCTUALLY a-allergic to eggs, s-sso-" "The egg that's in a wooden box. In your bag. Don't waste your time bullshitting me.. Come on, let's make this quick." The hooded figure extends their arm, motioning to be handed the egg. Still desperately fighting not to throw up everywhere, The Adventurer simply sits on the floor, staring up at the hooded figure blankly as he tries to think.. Is he seriously being robbed for the first time? Is that like, a cool milestone, or a bad one? He's read about it in adventuring books before but... the reality feels so much different.. How can he get out of this? Strategies scatter through his mind, but he's too shaken to find any clear answers.. What should he do?

-

Additional Information

the adventurer's current main quest: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

[thedeadthree]

— OCS AS A LOVE LANGUAGE.

TAGGED BY: @kingsroad, @chuckhansen, @echo3-1 and @marivenah to take this cutest uquiz for the loves! ty ty <3

TAGGING: @feystepped, @griffin-wood, @risingsh0t, @queennymeria, @denerims, @jendoe, @phillipsgraves, @unholymilf, @morvaris, @aartyom, @jacobseed, @florbelles, @adelaidedrubman, @leviiackrman, @jackiesarch, @loriane-elmuerto, @shellibisshe, @veisshaupt, @aceghosts, @blissfulalchemist, @shadowglens, @malefiicarum, @leondaltons, @pearlcscent, @arklay, @roofgeese and you!

A KNIFE CALLED GRIEF.

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything.You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

AN UNDOING INFLUENCE.

Can someone tell you what to do? You have been carrying so much love within you for so long it is starting to turn into anger (why does it matter, all you see is red anyways) and you have been dragging this body through each day and every night you are split open on your bed and it is so so so lonely. If someone were to walk in while you were on your bed that way and they stitched you back in a new way, lining the seams with their love and kisses, you’d probably find this dreary world a little more bearable. You want someone to turn you over and over until you look in the mirror and see yourself looking back at yourself with a gentleness which has been lacking in you since forever.

VIOLENT DEVOTION.

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

A STORY THAT ENDS IN BLOOD.

The world has always been unkind, and when you have turned to yourself for comfort you have come face to face with an empty pit which seems to be laughing. You don’t care if it kills you but once you find someone whom you love and who loves you back, you will make sure nothing happens to them. They are yours. You will make a tear in this world and create a new place for you and your love if it comes to that. Because it has always been about love, and it is how it always ends.

CONSUMPTION OF A HEART UNLOVED.

Here’s a dining table, here’s a set of plates. Here’s your heart, red and bursting with love. You have tried to love people all your life, but no one seems to understand you. Your own mother perhaps forgot to teach you how to protect yourself, maybe people whom you trusted chose to look the other way when all you wanted was a hand full of love. All you want is someone to take from you, all you want is someone to dig in your heart and eat it and kiss you afterwards - bloody and red. You want them to tell you that you are what they have been looking for, you want to be the one who ends their hunger.

[anghraine]

Spotify sent me some alert that went, well, based on your listening choices, you might like a Queen playlist, here's one for you.

As if I would not have my own curated Queen playlist ranked by how intensely I love each song! Pffft.