#not revised or checked

[thegnomelord]

Okay okay okay this is good and you give me so much brainrot and plz continue—

What if your domain is the Consequence of War; the pain of inflicted wounds, the sorrow of weeping parents and friends, the cries of children stuck beneath rubble, the hate born from suffering, the decay of corpses piled sky high, the thousands of vermin getting drunk off rotting blood.

But for all you are, you abhor war. And the twisted hand of faith makes you grow strong for every battle you fail to stop, every lost life strengthening you. Your followers preach peace in times when war is profitable, but will easily slaughter those seeking to fill their coffers as they, just like you, are good. But not kind.

It's the reason you are all but forgotten, exchanged for bloodthirsty Ares or Ruthless Athena, when Price, a young Athenian man, stumbles into your temple after having washed ashore on a forgotten island. He had just been promoted captain, and on his very first voyage to provide back up for a larger fleet he'd lead his men into a Spartan ambush— into a massacre.

He stumbles into your shrine deep beneath the earth, unnerved by the souless stares of bleached white skulls lining the walls, weighed down further because he swears he can hear his crew's cries, their screams, their hate for him. Your altar calls for him, ancient offerings covered in cobwebs, and without thought he gives you his own — his helmet, his cracked shield, his dagger, the blood pouring from his cut open wrists, the frail whimper of forgiveness coming from his lips.

You answer, awakened by his blood, his pain, embracing him, letting him cry his heart out into your chest while you remake him into something new; a new body with the same face, the same scars, your ichor gilding the slashes on his wrists.

Price is still himself, still coos at small kittens and entertains children caught in the crossfire of a raging battle, for he is good. But not kind. You don't even need to utter a word for he understands what you need, sailing soldiers catch a glimpse of a black horse standing on water before their entire ship is pulled under by vengeful dead and devouring waves, leaving nothing behind. Whispers spread, witnesses talk, myths are born and cautionary tales are passed down of being weary of black horses near streams of water— ride it, and it'll pull you down to the depths, fetch water from the river it drinks and your entire cavalry will drop dead before morning.

Gaz comes next, sold into the Pharoah's army and forced into countless battles where he's tasked to enslave his own people. He tries to resist in the ways he can, though spooking horses and 'accidentally' breaking gear does little more than earn him a lashing. But he's heard the other soldiers tell tales of you and your servant, so when he catches sight of a black stallion drinking from a river when he's ordered to fetch water, he doesn't hesitate. Gaz is careful to approach the beast, but there's no fear in him as he softly brushes Price's fur, praising and cooing over the softness and how handsome he looks. Somehow Gaz can tell Price is amused when he buckets the water from the exact place Price had been drinking from, as if it would make the curse more potent.

Gaz doesn't wait for morning to see if it worked, but he knows it did when he's chased across the desert sands by angry soldiers on the few horses that hadn't dropped dead. He's caught, a rope thrown around his neck and half dead from suffocation when they drag him back to camp. He's not shown any mercy, stabbed full of holes for good measure before hung up on the side of a cliff for the birds to feed on, his blood and tears falling to the sands bellow where your hidden altar lies as he begs, for whoever will listen, for whoever cares, to not let him die like this, to give his death meaning.

Then the rope snaps, his body plummeting down, but before he can hit the ground he's caught by Price, who doesn't have to beg or even speak for you know what he needs. Kyle's soul is barely clinging to his body when you pull them both into your firm embrace, changing Kyle like you'd changed Price while they sleep like babes.

Kyle has a hard time wrapping his head around what happened when he wakes up, surrounded by warmth on all sides, your ichor hiding the dark bruises along his neck, realigning the displaced bones. He thinks he should panic when he sees a grizzled soldier sleeping near him, but the sensation of firm hands around his waist— so protective and safe— has his mind relaxing enough for you to explain what happened.

He takes his job seriously, as faithful and obedient as Price is. Gaz takes the form of an eagle, spreading disease with every flap of his wings; food rots, wounds get infected, water becomes undrinkable, bacteria permeate the air to leave soldiers as breathless as he had been. But despite the misery of soldiers the civilians caught in the crossfire remain healthy, even the most meager piece of grass sustaining them until the war's end. For Gaz may not be kind, but he is good.

By the time your eyes fall on another potential follower enough time has passed for mortals to misconstrue what your servants are, folk tales turning them into boogeymen and monsters. Ghost never believed those tales regardless of how many times his ma' tried to scare him into bed with them, after all, he lived in a small fishing village where even a trout was an occasional sight. No-one was surprised when he got press ganged onto a naval ship, and he had to swallow his words and do as he was told, not believing a single word he was told about how he was serving the king and blah blah blah.

They landed on foreign soil and the hate and disgust that had been slowly festering in him over the months long voyage became apperant when he was ordered to shoot at innocence people who refused to give up their land. Black powder and bile burned his throat with every person he shot down, barrels of blood poured over him until one day he couldn't take it anymore, hate— at his captain, at his soldiers, at himself— festering like a disease inside him.

While everyone was sleeping and he was on deck duty he rigged the ships cannons with every grain of gunpowder there was on the ship and the next time the captain ordered to fire on an innocent village— the ship went up in flames.

Ghost was flung into the ocean along with everyone else, washing up on the shore. He couldn't feel his face or his legs anymore, pooling blood turning the sand red, the adrenaline keeping his mind from realising he's dying. He stares up at the sky and laughs as best he can with his throat clogged with black powder, because it's what he deserves for what he did, for the death he failed to stop.

He doesn't notice when a man sits next to him until Price's gruff voice invades his ears, "Quite the light show." He says, smoking a pipe, brushing Simon's remaining hair out of his eyes, worried and proud all the same. "Would you do it again?"

And Simon says 'definitely', or tries to anyway, and that's all you need to pull him into your embrace, for your altar had long since stopped being a fixed place; every battlefield, every ruined town, every place of tragedy — that was your altar. And Simon had made a sufficient offering.

You remake his body to the best of your abilities, giving him a skull mask when he asks, and when not in the body of a man Ghost stalks soldiers as a massive mountain lion, the scent of gunpowder wherever he goes. He's not as magically strong as the other two, doesn't have to be when humans rely so strongly on their machines that a single malfunction can tlake out an entire platoon. A weapon jamming, a cask of gun powder exploding, a bullet ricocheting back at you, a blade snapping— debilitating an army by destroying their tools.

He's also increadibly viscous, taking note to stalk the soldier who's dumb enough to stray from their pack, appearing between the trees to stare them down like the apparition he is, only to dissapear when they blink. Even more tales spread, more gods are born and die, yet you and your servants remain the same.

Johnny has heard all the tales surrounding the harbingers of war by the time WW1 rolls around, a freshed faced coal miner's son he joins as a clay kicker, wishing to do something good with himself. He weathers the cold, the cramped conditions, the freezing water up to his knees, his friends getting injured, with a smile on his face, seemingly nothing able to break his spirit.

But things turn weird when he starts seeing things that shouldn't be there; a skull faced man staring at him from the darkness of the tunnel right before a support beam breaks, an eagle screeching a day before his friend gets a bad case of trench foot, a stuck up commander who executes scared soldiers riding off on a pitch black stallion never to be seen again. Johnny does his best to flip off the three harbingers of war when he has the chance, and you get a good laugh at the way Ghost acts so angry as if he's not enamoured by Soap's constant display of rudeness towards them.

Yet Johnny's lucky, always able to escape the disasters that befall his fellows. And every night he offers a small prayer for whoever will listen for the war to stop, because despite his demeanor he doesn't want war, doesn't want to see his friends dying.

Then one of them messes up. A battle buddy gets spooked by enemies digging near them and ignites the dynamite while Soap's still inside the tunnel. He ends up crushed beneath mountains of mud, but not enough to die quickly. Instead he suffocates slowly, body drenched in cold mud, mind swimming as oxygen depletes and all the while he's thinking of his ma' and pa' back home, of his siblings, of what will happen if Britain looses the war.

A hand punches through the mud, his eyes barely able to focus on the same skull masked man he'd been flipping the bird to for ages. Simon doesn't do any fanfare, just shoves Soap's freezing body into your waiting arms, right next to Price and Gaz.

It's impossible to think anyone would be able to sleep in the middle of no man's land, under the constant rain of shell fire and mustard gas. But you keep them safe and away from prying mortal eyes, changing Soap just like you had done with the rest.

Soap comes back as a large dog, paws and fur speckled with mud. Buildings and strongholds crumble when he comes near, sinkholes appearing in perfectly stable roads the second a vehicle drives over them, solid ground turning into knee deep mud to immobilise horses and carts and tanks. And when he's not causing havoc to both sides, he's guiding rescuers and pulling people out of rubble, letting little kids pet his fur and running circles around Ghost and stealing meat from butchers to give to starving families, for while he may not be nice, he is good.

As years pass and conflicts continue to rage, you and your harbingers continue to grow strong, becoming boogeymen and monsters to children and soldiers alike. Then a shaky peace arises, and you are able to settle down into a comfortable rest, holding your dear servants close to your chest and praising them for their hard work, rewarding them in any way they wish, war hardened bodies turning soft and pliant beneath your touch. . .

thinking about 141 except its a different time period and theyre soldiers fighting a pointless war. they get ambushed and run away jsut to collapse on the feet of a forgotten, nature-ridden altar and offer an item or 2 on the altar despite them not knowing who they are, and they beg whoever is listening to give them a death kinder than dying.

and they pass out except they hear your voice whispering in their voice, idk whats that all about, but you rip their souls out of their mortal body of a vessel and force them to be your personal guards/servants? idk

except i like the idea that they all died in different times lol

like ghost probably got half his face blown up and you blessed him with the skull mask bc idk its poetic, soap died from someones mistake, idk how gaz died but somehow he did probably from being hung n dragged around (this is a reference 2 him having fallen out of the helicopter 💀)

n price probably died by khs after he led his own men to death bc he was inexperienced or something idk

and i just think it'd be cool if you were a war deity, like perhaps not exactly the god of war, but a deity associated w war, and if 141 were basically seen as bad omens / evil spirits by mortals or something lol

basically, I'm going crazy and i NEED people to spam me about this and continue it or ill go blow my brains out

[wackysach]

row. ⛵️

dedicated to my favorite padlock piece.

[kirby-the-gorb]

[rrylies]

altan isn't a violent person at his core it was just what other people have always seen him as because he's speerly, and for some reason the speerlies have a savage connotation when we have no proof that they were actually animals in the sense that other people keep describing them as. im sure that we only get the savage speerly stereotype because as a people, they were fundamentally different from the nikara and the mugenese. and since they were all (mostly) dead at the start of book one, who was going to negate all of these stereotypes? no one. (i could go on about how altan was slapped with the "last speerly" moniker when in reality he probably remembers very little about his culture and what speer was like before all of the war and the death but that's for another time <3)

even back in his days of sinegard altan isnt depicted as a particularly violent person, though he's placed in violent events. like in the fighting pits at night altan is pitted up against his peers who want to fight him at a chance at victory, to prove that they've won a battle against the last speerly and we have no idea if altan actually wants to fight them or if he's forced to (iirc it's highly suggested that irjah baits him into fighting by promising him opium if he wins, and he will, because he always does) (although that could've just been nezha being a dick) and even though altan shows no signs of violence or aggression (he's always depicted as calm, stoic, etc) he's always painted as something less than human, an animal simply because ??? he wins their fights? as if that's not something he's expected to do in the first place. ("how did he do that? isn't he human?" "he isn't, he's speerly" this quote. ARGHARAGH RABAN ILY BUT SHUT UPPP)

and back to the stereotypes of speerlies and why they're painted as rabid animals even though there's no proof that they are. the main thing i can think of rn is how the federation (+ the mugenese) think of them simultaneously as something divine and to be studied but also as these rabid beasts at the same time. like the federation soldiers are clearly afraid of fire / the speerlies (i have a separate hc that their culture has something to do with this but that is also for another time <3) shiro mentions how precious and important the speerlies are (and yet his people bombed altan's? ://) while taking every opportunity he can to pick altan apart. then people wonder why altan's vicious towards the federation and hates them with every fiber of his being and why he has so much pent-up anger within him and it's like, hello?? they took him captive when he was a child, and sent him to the laboratory with shiro where he would spend half of his life being cut open and dissected, injected with opium time and time again, forced to watch his people die off one by one without the knowledge that he was the last until after he'd been rescued. (this still gets me btw no im not in tears) and then even when he's out, his suffering isn't over, (it's never over lets be real) because he's shipped off to sinegard academy where he'll be surrounded by so many different conflicting stereotypes (the nikara think he's an animal because he's speerly but shiro thought he was amazing because he was speerly, because of his connection to the phoenix) and really, he's not violent, not at his core, but i cant imagine the inner turmoil altan went through his first few years out of the lab + his first year at sinegard where he was the only one who was different (and also fighting an opium addiction at the same time and people belittle him over this when it literally wasn't his fault)

like altan was not violent. he was calm and he had his moments of peace, but ultimately because of everything that had happened to him (cough. shiro u motherfucker), the violence was forced out of him and became all he knew ("chaghan said they trained you like a dog at the academy" ://) and he literally didn't know any better, he was failed by every single person who should have helped him. (never getting over this btw)

yin riga, a man who he trusted, sent him away to shiro. (will never not think of how much little five year old altan trusted riga and then. well.) jiang, who was supposed to help him with his connection to the phoenix, shunned him. irjah, who was his supposed caretaker, who only fed his opium addiction in order to control him, just like how shiro did, just like how the nikara did to the speerlies (parallels. yaaay.)

in the end altan trengsin wasn't a violent person, but it was all anyone wanted to see. it was all anyone would remember him by.

[upathosarts]

forgot to post this one to go with the last post

[sleepyorchidmonster]

Once upon a time, NRC's Board Game Club decided to organize a chess competition. Thanks to Azul's marketing genius, the event became really popular, with plenty of students from outside the club participating.

However, due to an accident (Floyd was bored and Grim annoyed him, everything is now on fire), most of the club's chess sets were destroyed. To solve the problem, contestants were encouraged to bring one of their personal sets.

This idea made for an ecletic set up, especially since most students are crazy rich. Idia brought the set Leona gave him for his birthday, Malleus found an old heirloom from Briar Valley, Kalim isn't even a competitor, but he still got a set made of solid gold and encrusted with precious gems from the Scarabia storage room, and so on... (Cater took a bunch of pictures of all the different styles).

In an effort to make up for Grim's mishap, Adeuce also decided to help, remembering that Heartslabyul has a room filled with different games that students often used.

There were dozens of chess sets, but they just HAD to choose the pretty one atop of a pedestal, with a sign saying "NO!!" in bold letters (in their defense, Heartslabyul is nonsensical, also they were in a competition with Sebek and that was the best set).

A few days later, right before the event, the game club students began to organize the space for the matches.

Only for the Heartslabyul set to come to life and start fighting people, that is...

Apparently, the Queen of Hearts left a small contingent of her best soldiers to protect the school, just in case. Hidden as a deck of cards and a chess set, those soldiers can be summoned by simply opening their cases/boxes, though they shall only answer to the Heartslabyul housewarden.

She also forgot to tell anyone else about the plan, trusting that a single rule of "When in trouble, get the chess set or the playing cards" would suffice.

So now we have a bunch of gigantic marble statues wandering around campus, looking for hostile forces or their leader...

After a few fights, a statue crashing a dormhead meeting and kidnapping Riddle, and plenty of discussion, the students FINALLY manage to calm the statued down, explaining how it was all a misunderstanding.

All's well that ends well, but now the chess pieces want to watch the actuall chess matches.... something about wanting to know the prowess of great warriors and future leaders...

And that is how we get an chess event in twst, with a few extra cards and special outfits, since this just became a formal event, what with the piqued interest of a bunch of ancient royal guards.

The main event cards would be Leona, Idia, Azul, Malleus, Lillia and Jamil, since they're the actual contestants for the competition, while Riddle also gets an SSR, since he is supervising the gigantic chess soldiers, in a role similar to the Queen of Hearts.

Since the statues insisted on participating in the competition's finale, the last match is held in the school's Coliseum, with a cute twstune to wrap things up.

Then the victor gets crowned and the chess pieces leave.

[mollyrolls]

im actually pissing myself holy shit

i just finished my 8 page rhetorical analysis right? tell me why this shit is the same length as ONE FIC CHAPTER. HELLO????

[the-one-that-weeps]

Reblog with your normal environment for writing vs. the most extreme conditions you've ever written a fic in

[ent-is-indecisive]

idk saw someone drawing teeth and wanted to doodle some stuff

unshaded version below the cut as usual

[fiendy]

my part for the disabledstuck zine 💛💗💙

[averlym]

character designs for podcast musical (musical podcast?) @perfecttimeseleven // notes on the designs below the cut

hello there! usually i put commentary in the tags but i had too much to write this time.. thank you for clicking. have this uncoloured version as tribute. for ease of presentation i have once again made pptx slides :)

links for context: hcs and edits by CC @litanyofthemartyrs // scheherazade, [cc's px11 fic, incredible] // visual research sheets (under the cut) by me // the official art by @elliotly, which you can probably find on his tumblr(but is in too many posts for me to bother linking). enjoy!

[jasminesilk]

Tristan is still very creative and loves to work on his painting skill.

Since I am revising the rules for gen two a little I have decided to complete the Renaissance Sim aspiration with Tristan.

He's also supposed to, "master knitting and 1 other creative skill!" but I'm currently working on the knitting skill with Melody in my Sanrio Legacy so I'm switching it to painting for him. I haven't yet decided what his other creative skill will be.

[lazyrunawayphilosopher]

"YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS, I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU"

-From the flashback sequence posted by the Audio drama team.

[weather-phenomenon]

okie so actually i have remembered how to do the floral mesh cool! and you can see how short it is aljf;lasf it's fitting on the seat of the chair lol but yah i'm curious abt how it's goona look when it's done fr i mean it's pretty simple it's just the back floral mesh 'yoke' insert tht's 'different' so eh we'll see i was supposed to start the orange 2 rows down so there wld be more orange but i forgor so eh it's not a big deal i'm technically supposed to finish the front fully b4 i start the back but i am always impatient to get to the fun parts lol

[schizowitchic]

regular ableist (boring): I think im gonna pass maths hehe im being soooooo delulu about this!!

me, schizophrenic (interesting): i have received divine revelations late at night that showed me how maths work so now i will pass my exam

(we are not the same) (i am clearly better)