#primal rite

[sillymickel]

“I have never read such complex knowledge encapsulated so perfectly into such simple understanding.” …

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[iicheeze]

Genshin SAGAU except Reader is a lore fanatic

cw: lore dump, archon quest spoilers, side quest spoilers, etc

“ guys did u know that the Sea Ganoderma is actually souls of children who died young trapped and is forced to spend generations absorbing elements from the sand and sea as the form of punishment?? ” “ what the fuck your grace. ” Tighnari muttered.

“yelan, i know where u got ur jacket. ” “ o- oh, really, Your Grace? ” Yelan stuttered, sweat dropping. “ Yeah, i know u stole it from a Fatui Harbinger that was supposed to be a gift for the Tsaritsa and made some 'adjustments' to make it fit your style. ” you stated with a smirk, while yelan tries to hold in her cries because you rlly are a Divine Being, knowing everything about Teyvat.

Archon quest spoilers down ahead

“ Guys, I have a theory that the upside down Statue of the Seven and city the Traveler and Paimon saw are actually the correct way and that proves it because when I took a walk at Spiral Abyss when I went down I expected it to be pitch black but instead I'm met with the galaxy sky and a moon and possibly, Khaenri 'ah and Enkanomiya are the ones that are actually in the surface, while Teyvat is underground and yknow what? Scaramouche is RIGHT. The stars are fake the sky is fake everything is fake as we know of HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ” your maniacal laughter echoed through the Akademiya as many Researchers are baffled by this amount of information

“ Alhaitham, do you have a second? ” “ Of course, Your grace. What is it? ” “ Are you the Scarlet King ” “ ........ excuse me ”

“ WELL i noticed that the color of your eyes matches the Scarlet King's eyes, and your boots matches the color of the buildings of the Scarlet King's Civilization. A blue gem appeared when the Scarlet King sacrificed himself and it kinda looked like the gems at your back. And when you do your burst it looks REALLY similar to the Primal Constructs’ attacks, and the Primal Constructs are what's left of the Scarlet King's civilization. And at your chest it looks like it has the wings of an eagle, and your name literally means young eagle. What does this have to do with the Scarlet King? Well, at the Dunes I've ventured, I've seen murals and a figure with a bird head and it could possibly be the Scarlet King but it strangely reminded me of you!!! Plus, you know how to use the devices made by the Scarlet King, whereas the books and researchers at the Akademiya shows no information on how to properly use them. Pretty suspicious...... ”

and then theres alhaitham sweating his balls off on how the hell did you get that information.

“ guys, did you know that when Enkanomiya was plunged deep into the ocean, they created a fake sun called Helios to survive, right??? But actually, the nobles wanted more power. They wanted a puppet or ruler that they could easily control or manipulate. And WHO WOULD MAKE A GOOD CANDIDATE??? THAT'S RIGHT! A CHILD. AND THUS, BEGIN THE REIGN OF THE SUNCHILDREN. They were young and ignorant, obviously easy to be deceived and lied to. They were manipulated to commit heinous deeds. The first Sunchild was deceived to imprisoning his role model for life, aka isolated from everyone. The sunchildren were DESPISED by their own people, EVEN THE CARETAKERS ARENT ALLOWED TO SPEAK TO THEM. Knowing that the Sunchildren could realize that they were being manipulated, the nobles then introduced Rite of Solar Return. Now what the hell is a Rite of Solar Return??? Basically, when a Sunchild hits a certain age, they will be taken into the inner sanctum of Helios. The artificial Sun's high temperature could AND WOULD incinerate them alive!!!!! AND SOMEHOW, SOME HAVE SIMILARITIES WITH OUR CURRENT ARCHONS!!! Orupeusu had a talent for the lyre, aka the Anemo Archon. Risutaiosu made lifelike sculptures, like the Electro Archon. And Isumenasu would roam his country, AND EVEN HAD A SPEAR LIKE THE GEO ARCHON AT HIS GRAVE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA I AM A GENIUS ”

the fact that people would still listen to your rants about Teyvat but still be concerned about your mental health is hilarious

if you werent the Divine Being of All, they would've locked you up where no one can find you, you know

Dottore would like you tho

so that's good

[shera-dnd]

I have decided against my better judgement to be weird about the Dawntrail MSQ

and we can't talk about an expansion set in the fantasy americas without talking about

COLONIALISM

oh yeah, we're going there baby

So disclaimer that I may be brazilian, but my ass is white as hell, so take everything I say with a grain of salt. Also if any native americans have made posts on this please let me know so I can boost their analysis as well

Also also I'm more than happy to delete this post if I mess up. I'm genuinely trying to make a thoughtful analysis, so if I fuck up just say the word and this thing is gone from this website

Oh also also also, Dawntrail MSQ spoilers ahead!

So FFXIV has had a... messy relationship with colonialism over the years

The fact that the major antagonists for the first half of A Realm Reborn a literally called "beast man tribes" is absolutely not a good start to this story

Add to that the fact that The Twelve (Eorzea's gods) are shown to be kind all powerful deities, while the Primals (the tribal gods) are evil spirits summoned to bring destruction to the world

and yeah no ARR is not good with that shit. It's EXTREMELY not good. If I hadn't been told it got better later on I would have dropped this shit before I got to Titan

But they have been taking steps to unfuck things. First we're shown that even the "civilized societies" (in this case the catholic elves) can summon Primals, then that Primal summoning isn't an actual native custom but was introduced by foreigners with malicious intent, and that not all "beast man" practice that

Then they changed the names of the "Beast Man Tribe Quests" to "Tribal Quests" and then finally to "Allied Society Quest"

Which would have been an empty gesture had like half of the post-Shadowbringer patches, as well a lot of Endwalker, not been about forming alliances with those people and working together with them, recognizing that they have as much right to the land and to life as any Eorzean, this all culminating on the Primals being summoned with the express purpose of helping you protect the world you all share

I guess they realized that they couldn't have their big bad for most of the game be the evil expansionist empire, if they didn't like actually reflect in their own imperialist fantasies they were propagating

Then the teaser trailer for Dawntrail drops and everyone in the fandom is like "wait... are we gonna do a colonialism?"

And memes were abound of how all those lessons from before don't apply to the "New World" of Tural

THANKFULLY the actual questline leading to Dawntrail helped to settle some of those worries

We're not going to Tural to explore a new uncharted land, but are actually being invited over by the local royalty in order to aid them with their right of succession. We get introduced to the nation of Tuliyollal and how it's a thriving land with its own culture and not just a "terra nil" waiting to be colonized

Still there are some worries that this is gonna turn out poorly and that we're just gonna end up being white saviors

But I think they managed to avoid that pretty well

For starters neither the Scions nor the Warrior of Light are the protagonists of this story. You're all simply supporting character's in Wuk Lamat's story

A story that centers her people, her culture, and her family

And it's not even one culture. They don't portray Tuliyollal as this monolithic mish mash of every single native american culture

No, the lands of Tural are in fact comprised of multiple different people's and nations, each of them with their own customs and traditions which are informed by their history and the lands they live in

In fact learning about their cultures and partaking in their customs is the whole point of the Rite of Succession. It's all set up so that the next Dawnservant would be someone who understands and respects each of the peoples that comprise Tural

(I could, and probably will, write about what Dawntrail has to say about what makes a good ruler)

And our girl, Wuk Lamat, is shown to be the rightful heir because she really goes out of her way to understand each of the nations and show her appreciation for their customs

Putting her well above her Sharlyaboo brother Koana, The King of Unresolved Daddy Issues Zoral Ja, and whatever the fuck is going on with Bakool Ja Ja

(I joke, I love my two headed traumatized dumbass)

Tho I will admit that this does end up giving the tribes a somewhat "planet of the hats" vibe. Like their named NPCs are diverse and interesting, but you can just assume that most random NPCs of any given people are gonna act according to the stereotype

Which is unfortunate, but I have hopes that with the next few patches and the addition of Dawntrail's own Allied Society Quests, we'll get to see more to them

But that... is only up to lvl95 and the end of the Yok'Tural (southern Tural) segment

because then we get to Xak'Tural (northern Tural) and holy shit does it feel like they drop the ball there

Like they really COULDN'T keep themselves from making Shaaloani a fucking Wild West map

Instead of doing anything with the actual cultures and histories of Native North American people, they just do wild fucking west

Because there's ceruleum in them thar hills! And apparently Koana turned most of the region into Sharlyaboos too

So we get a bunch of Wild West frontier towns mixed with native american tribes and mud brick cities. We have trains and guns and a sheriff and a duel at high noon, but now everyone got native american names

At least there's one group off to the northern side of the map who seems to stick to tradition and live in harmony with nature, and that group is shown respect by the other people of the region

so we at the very least avoid the "cowboys vs indians" crap, but my god does that region just feel bad compared to everything else they had done so far

Then we get to the big twist: THE CYBERPUNK PORTION OF THE GAME

because yes, we go full fucking cyberpunk

so turns out that a whole segment of Xak'Tural got colonized by the kingdom of Alexandria, including the lands of the Shetona (Erenville's people)

And I feel like this is the most poignant section of the MSQ when it comes to colonialism

Because here we have Alexandria, an empire that has reached the limit of what it can do sustain itself on its own world, and so has decided to spread out and colonize others in order to gain resources

We see the Shetona and other natives of the region being separated from their families and kept in isolation from the rest of their people

And tho Queen Sphene is shown to be a kind and caring ruler who gives people a choice when it comes to joining the empire, WELL SHE'S STILL THE QUEEN OF A FUCKING EMPIRE

Like her form of kindness and just stagnant peace is put in stark contrast with Wuk Lamat's own love for her people and more proactive pursuit of happiness and harmony

(again with the "what makes a ruler theme")

Also the people that choose to be assimilated into the Alexandrian Empire? Yeah, they're doing so because Alexandria has advanced medical technology and you can only receive their aid if you're a citizen

Not only that, but you have to be a working citizen. We see later on a character being denied medical aid, because he lost his job, thanks to the King's decision and at no fault of his own

yeah this is cyberpunk, not just sci-fi

ALSO can we talk about how the technology used for that medical aid and the little gizmo they give you to signify you're now a citizen, will literally erase the memory of the people you lost

So the Turali who are assimilated into Alexandrian culture not only lose ties to their culture and their loved ones, but are not allowed to grieve their loss, because what they once had is slowly being erased

How their choices add up to survive on their own OR be assimilated

How this all takes place IN NORTH FUCKING AMERICA!

THE CYBERPUNK CITY IS LITERALLY SET IN THIS WORLD'S EQUIVALENT TO THE UNITED STATES

So yeah, I don't think is is accidental. I genuinely thing that they're making a point about the realities of imperialism and colonialism, as well as taking some shots at the US while they're at it

Of course this part is still centered around Wuk Lamat, and instead of having a moment of "the only ones who can stop the evil white europeans are the GOOD white europeans", we have Wuk Lamat be the one to save the day, defeat Sphene, and save her people from the colonizing empire

So I would like to argue that everything that happens from lvl97 onwards is them picking up the ball again and making a real point

buuuut that comes at the cost of us being unable to engage with the native peoples of Xak'Tural outside of the context of colonialism

Which genuinely fucking sucks, and I hope it will be remedied with the post-Dawntrail patches

As well as handling the whole shared land situation they ended up with and how this might end up in a Land Back sort of movement, and oh boy can they mess shit up royally there

So in conclusion FFXIV has had a messy relationship with colonialism and imperialist fantasies and tropes, but the devs seem to be making a concerted effort to undo their mistakes and show respect in their depictions of american natives

They still fuck up

boy do they

but they're at least trying, and I'd say Dawntrail so far has been quite well executed

so yeah, look forward to more insane rambles like this one I guess

[violetsiren90]

Evergreen | Bang Chan/Reader

Pairing: wolf hybrid!Bang Chan x human!f!Reader

(A Nothing But You universe fic)

Genre: hybrid AU; one-shot; established relationship; domestic fluff; slice of life; mountain living; pregnancy

Word Count: 1689

Summary: Seasons change, life moves on - but some things stay the same.

Content Warning: PG-13 for themes but my page and all its content are 18+ (minors, dni); wolf hybrid rut; mentions of knotting and marking; mentions of rut symptoms that include insomnia and lack of appetite; deep emotions; the use of "your" and "belonging" in the sense of committed love NOT ownership; pregnancy; mentions of different states of undress; domesticity and shared domestic responsibility; homesteading; Chris being the sweetest and most caring 😭💕; Chris chopping wood 😳; mentions of food and eating; implications of sexual intimacy, parenthood

Author's Note: I guess I went and fell in love with these two. This is a companion one-shot to Nothing But You. This one-shot is a different flavor, not as soft and cozy all the way through - there are more notes here, I think. Some sweeter, some sharper, but in the end, it's still them. I wanted to peek into their lives and see how they lived and loved. 🥰

If no one has told you yet today, please know that you are so loved, and so worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

~January~

Snow burdens the branches of the pines, the bitter North wind whistling between the trees, through the darkness, and over the blanket of fresh powder shrouding the forest floor. The mountains are sleeping, but your wolf is awake.

He nearly collapses, sinking to his knees as he shuts the cabin door. You spring up from your place by the fire to rush to him, but he holds up a hand, a growl rumbling low in his chest. You freeze. Panting, he slowly raises his face. Snowflakes cling to his lashes and dust over his head and shoulders. The dusky circles under his brown eyes speak of weariness, yet their expression is dark and wild. His nose is flushed from the chill. Beads of sweat quiver on his brow.

The fever still hasn't broken.

It appeared two days ago, with other sudden changes. Christopher has grown restless and short-tempered, and won't sleep in your bed. He smells intoxicatingly of cedar wood and amber.

You've been through it all before, his annual rut at the end of winter - four days of watching him endure the throes of primal agony. He would steal away at night, to hunt, your proximity far too overwhelming for his heightened senses and desires. Unchecked he would fail to stop himself. He would take you, mark you, knot you.

He hadn't in the four years you'd shared a bed and the comfort of the other's flesh. You'd spoken of the mating rites, but he always held off, afraid to break you. So protective of you always, and without a second a thought to himself.

You respected his space, his wishes, attempting to help him navigate the torment of his natural longings as best you could.

But this year it had taken him like a wild fire. The fever wouldn't break. He wouldn't sleep or eat. And now, here he was, half frozen and shivering on the floor.

No more.

You slowly cross to pull him up against his weak protesting. You peel away his frost-damp clothes and drag his heavy frame to rest upon the bed. With his last strength he tries to push you away, but you slip under the blankets beside him, pulling him into your arms.

His eyes flutter shut as he curls against you and nuzzles into your neck, whimpering that when he wakes it will be too hard for him to hold back.

You tell him not to try.

You tell him that you need him, want him - all of him. This part too, with all the others.
You assure him softly that you're not afraid, nor should he fear to make you his...you already belong to one another, after all.

You whisper that you love him.

Christopher exhales, tears trickling down his cheeks to mingle with the sweat and melted snow. You hold him to your breast, brushing soft kisses into his hair.

Cedar wood and amber.

~April~

You shake out a flannel shirt, crinkled and bunched from wringing to hang it on the line that stretches from the side of the cabin to a young yellow birch within the clearing. You smile as you fasten it with clips. He had worn it on the first day he visited the diner. It was faded then, and it has grown more timeworn still. But the fabric is thick, the seams hand-sewn, and if the dye has begun to abandon the thread it is only ever the softer. 

Strong and soft, like him.

The warblers are singing in the branches of the white pines as they busily fashion their nests. You stroke a hand down over the little bump of your belly, musing over the nesting that has started to change the trappings of your own little home. There's still plenty of time, but Christopher's excitement has poured forth in the form of hard work, and you're certain that when your time comes he'll have stored by enough for the next three winters yet.

You hear the rumbling of his truck a ways off. He left in the wee hours, the bed loaded down with wares to sell to suppliers in town. By the time you've strung up the last piece of washing he's already at the mouth of the trail, his arms laden with flowers and parcels wrapped in brown paper. The light wash of his denim shirt brings out the early kisses of the spring sunshine on his honeyed skin.

You follow him into the house where he puts your wildflowers into a vase and insists that you sit while he tends to lunch. Unwrapping the brown paper packages you find a set of pretty maternity pajamas, a box of chocolates, and the goat's milk soap you like. 

He's already eaten half his sandwich when he sets yours down, and you tug his wrist, pulling him into a chair to prevent him from setting out to work yet again. 

When the dishes are cleared you won't let him leave. He'd work every second of every day and well into many nights if you let him. But today you want him to rest. It's a mild and lovely afternoon and the chores are done. Other things can wait.

You sit across his lap on the porch swing he built two summers before. Your arms encircle one of his as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

His lips brush your forehead as his thumb caresses the little curved scar where the slope of your shoulder meets your neck. The one that means you belong to him and no one else.

The birds sing and the swing creaks.


~July~

He calls you from around the other side of the house. You draw an arm over your dripping brow and struggle up from where you're crouched to spread a batch of plump, ripe blackberries between the screens of the drying rack. There are still so many. Some you'll turn into jam. Christopher will eat the rest. He loves them. You rest the colander still half-full with berries against the full swell of your belly, wrapping an arm about the rim to keep it in place. 

You're hot and uncomfortable these days. But, when the morning's work is through, you'll go down to the lake together to shed the day's heat in the cool, still waters. You'd been every afternoon that week. Christopher was a strong swimmer, and would stay in far longer while you sat on the shady bank with a book. When he finally quit the water yesterday, he'd never found his clothes - instead he'd pressed you back into the lush green grass and made you sigh his name. 

As you round the far side of the cabin your eyes catch his form. He stands under the sweltering sun, stripped down to pair of fitted khaki work pants and thick suede boots. His muscular chest is slicked with sweat and he stands, panting, with his weight pressed into his right hip. He holds an axe in his hand.

His mouth pulls up at the corner and his tail swishes at the site of you. You tuck yourself against him wrapping your free arm around his damp waist. Oh how you want to swim. To hold his strong body in the dark water.

He gestures with the axe at what he's fitted together with stripped pieces of soft pine. A little cradle. He nudges it with his foot, setting it to rock. You bring a blackberry to his lips and he accepts it.

You kiss him.

Salty skin and summer fruit.


~October~

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of little cries. You sit up and stretch, blinking in the softness of the early autumn light.

You inhale deeply. Cinnamon and hickory smoke.

Outside the air is growing crisp and the leaves of the deciduous trees are blushing and abandoning their hosts, covering the floor of the wood in their pageantry. Fruit and game have begun to grow scarce as the forest prepares to enter the long slumber of the colder months. Nights require fires more often than not.

There is a small fire crackling now. A little black cauldron hangs over the flames, and you can smell the porridge simmering within. The man you love sits in a rocking chair near the warmth, a little bundle in his arms. He looks up at you as you rise and he smiles. He's been all smiles lately. In fact, you don't think the little dimple has left his cheek since he met the tiny she-wolf in his arms two weeks ago.

He says she looks like you, but all you see in her beautiful little features is Christopher. She has two tiny fuzzy ears and a darling little tale.

You reach down to stroke her fat cheek and your heart aches.

It aches from love, so much of it.

When the doctor placed her in your arms a part of your heart that you hadn't known existed burst to beating. You thought you loved the man who had knitted her inside you as much as you were able, but you had been ignorant in that respect as well. When he took your daughter in his arms and looked down on her face you thought that there wasn't room in your chest for things so vast, so deep.

You named her Hannah, for the sister her father had lost. It meant "grace".

So fitting, you think.

You move your fingers into Christopher's curls and he looks up at you. His brown eyes are soft and warm. The lovely eyes you saw that first day at the general store - the same through every changing season.

The maple and the birch will wax and wane, but not the cedar, not the pine.

Some things will remain.

And he is evergreen.
 

-Fin-

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Elements of the 10 Story Genres

by Blake Snyder

The 3 elements of a BUDDY LOVE story

An incomplete hero who is missing something physical, ethical, or spiritual; (s)he needs another to be whole.

A counterpart who makes that completion come about or has qualities the hero needs.

A complication, be it a misunderstanding, personal or ethical viewpoint, epic historical event, or the prudish disapproval of society.

DUDE WITH A PROBLEM

An innocent hero who is dragged into a mess without asking for it—or even aware of how he got involved.

A sudden event that thrusts our innocent(s) into the world of hurt—and it comes without warning.

A life or death battle is at stake—and the continued existence of an individual, family, group, or society is in question.

FOOL TRIUMPHANT

A fool whose innocence is his strength and whose gentle manner makes him likely to be ignored—by all but a jealous “Insider” who knows too well.

An establishment, the people or group a fool comes up against, either within his midst, or after being sent to a new place in which he does not fit—at first.

A transmutation in which the fool becomes someone or something new, often including a “name change” that’s taken on either by accident or as a disguise.

GOLDEN FLEECE

A road spanning oceans, time—or across the street—so long as it demarcates growth. It often includes a “Road Apple” that stops the trip cold.

A team or a buddy the hero needs to be guided along the way. Usually, it’s those who represent the things the hero doesn’t have: skill, experience, or attitude.

A prize that’s sought and is something primal: going home, securing a treasure, or re-gaining a birthright.

INSTITUTIONALIZED

Every story in this category is about a group—a family, an organization, or a business that is unique.

The story is a choice, the ongoing conflict pitting a “Brando” or “Naif” vs. the system’s “Company Man.”

Finally, a sacrifice must be made and you get three endings: join, burn it down… or commit “suicide.”

MONSTER IN THE HOUSE

A monster that is supernatural in its powers—even if its strength derives from insanity—and “evil” at its core.

A house, meaning an enclosed space that can include a family unit, an entire town, or even “the world.”

A sin. Someone is guilty of bringing the monster in the house… a transgression that can include ignorance.

OUT OF THE BOTTLE

A wish asked for by the hero or another, and the clearly seen need to be delivered from the ordinary.

A spell, which we must make logical by upholding “The Rules.”

A lesson: Be careful what you wish for! It’s the running theme in all OOTB’s. Life is good as it is.

RITES OF PASSAGE

A life problem: from puberty to midlife to death—these are the universal passages we all understand.

A wrong way to attack the mysterious problem, usually a diversion from confronting the pain.

A solution that involves acceptance of a hard truth the hero has been fighting, and the knowledge it’s the hero that must change, not the world around him.

SUPERHERO

The hero of your tale must have a special power—even if it’s just a mission to be great or do good.

The hero must be opposed by a nemesis of equal or greater force, who is the “self-made” version of the hero.

There must be a curse for the hero that he either surmounts or succumbs to as the price for who he is.

WHYDUNIT

The detective does not change, we do; yet he can be any kind of gumshoe—from pro to amateur to imaginary.

The secret of the case is so strong it overwhelms the worldly lures of money, sex, power, or fame. We gots to know! And so does the Whydunit hero.

Finally, the dark turn shows that in pursuit of the secret, the detective will break the rules, even his own — often ones he has relied on for years to keep him safe. The pull of the secret is too great.

Source

[devi1sange1]

If sjm is truly planning on Gwynriel, she dropped the ball because…

“There are plenty of other unspeakable things that could be happening to her, Cassian said, voice thickening, “To Emerie and Gwyn.” The shadows deepened around Azriel, his siphons gleaming like cobalt fire. “You— we trained them well Cassian. Trust in that. It’s all we can do.”

Will NEVER be—

But Azriel asked softly, “What about Elain?”

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

I stood. Met Azriel’s wrathful stare.

Azriel was honing Truth-Teller with relentless focus…

Azriel’s shadow hand grasped my own, tugging me closer. His rage rippled off his invisible form.

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth, “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

And no, I’m not even talking about the fact that Azriel risked his life to save Elain, because sure, it was illegal to save Gwyn in the rite (it’s not like he’s incredibly defiant and doesn’t gaf about the Illyrians but sure). It’s the complete lack of reaction. A common argument I see is, “Well we don’t have Azriel’s point of view of the BR.” But… we don’t have his pov of the Elain rescue either. You guys know you can still convey a characters feelings without their pov right?

Notice how when Elain was taken, Feyre repeatedly mentions Azriel’s rage, his wrath, his precise focus and determination on rescuing Elain. And she’s not even his supposed mate. You can’t include any of that at all when his supposed mate is kidnapped by the same people that abused and bullied him? Notice how easy it was to include how enraged Azriel was at the idea of Elain being hurt. Do you know how easy it would have been to include similar language when the Valkyries were taken?

Listen I’m no writer, but just spit ballin here (forgive me this feels like a crime):

Azriel said tightly, “My spies got word that Eris has been captured by Briallyn. She sent his remaining soldiers after him while he was out hunting with his hounds. They grabbed him and somehow, they were all winnowed back to her palace. I’m guessing using Koschei’s power.” […] Az said, “We have to get him out.” Cassian drew up short. “We?” Cassian could tell by the look on Azriel’s face, by the cold rage that practically seeped from the shadowsinger like his shadows, that Azriel liked this plan just about as much as he did. The sheer determination that Azriel usually possessed when given a mission gone, his focus, his mind, somewhere else entirely. The spymaster mirrored Cassian’s own feelings right back at him: pain, rage, and something else he couldn’t quite place.

Or…

“There are plenty of other unspeakable things that could be happening to her, Cassian said, voice thickening, “To Emerie and Gwyn.” The shadows deepened around Azriel, his siphons gleaming like cobalt fire. “You— we trained them well Cassian. Trust in that. It’s all we can do.” But Cassian could tell that something was off with his brother, in the way he spoke. He couldn’t tell if Azriel was trying to convince him of this matter, or if he was more trying to convince himself. Azriel’s focus drifted, and Cassian saw it then, the rage in his eyes, in his demeanor… it was the same as his own. And Cassian wondered if Azriel, too, felt like a piece of him was missing, if he understood how this waiting game was gnawing at some primal part of him, a part that was aching to be unleashed.

AND ITS THAT EASY!

Like seriously this is the “mating bond” people fight tooth and nail to defend? Is this truly the couple that SJM is trying to get us to fall in love with in preparation for the next book? Because she honestly did a poor job if that’s the case. So which is it? Are they not endgame/mates or are they another drop in the ‘poorly written by sjm’ bucket?

[silverflameataraxia]

Don't let Az's cool demeanor fool you. He's totally freaking out about Gwyn, Nesta, and Emerie participating in the Blood Rite. He's just freaking out internally and not externally.

The shadows deepened around Azriel, his Siphons gleaming like cobalt fire. "You - we - trained them well, Cassian. Trust in that. It's all we can do."

Remember Az was frantic when they couldn't find Nesta in Oorid. There's no way he's not frantic now, and not just for Nesta, but for Gwyn and Emerie too. He's trying to keep it together for Cassian because if Az freaks out then Cass is going to do something stupid, thus getting them all killed.

Az may not know that Gwyn's his mate, but like all mates-who-don't-know-they're-mates, he'll still feel drawn to Gwyn and he'll still have that primal need to protect her and kill anyone who would harm her.

[iibonniee]

Mine, all Mine

Pairing: Lee Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: werewolf!wonho, mating, unprotected sex, creampie

Rating: R

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Hoseok knew you were always the one for him. Always the one to call his mate

Masterlist | Tags: @beautifulworldandmore @kyunnielove @iamkyunie @doveslittlekpoparchive @dessianna1

Hoseok, a distinctive character straddling the line between ordinary man and supernatural entity, had always known Y/N was the one. She was his essence, his soulmate. In the cosmos’ grand interplay during the mating season, supernatural beings and humans coexisted and mingled within blurred boundaries. However, the key distinctions brought a unique dynamism to their world.

In their most primal essence, wolves embodied raw energy and family bonding. Their unwavering sense of loyalty set them apart. On the other hand, vampires represented passionate yet restrained entities, meticulously threading the fine line between sensual charm and predator instinct. Witches, time-enduring sage women, were the bridges, weaving seamlessly between the human realm’s mundanity and the supernatural’s flamboyance. Their elevated senses gave them access to magic’s unseen, uncharted territories.

Humans added grounded reality to this mystical spectrum. Being ordinary amongst the extraordinary, they symbolize resilience and audacity. Their willingness to adapt is what makes them unique. Yet the roles fluctuate, and the ordinary can also embody the extraordinary.

Just as Hoseok, who straddled the realms of man and wolf, embodied extraordinary love for Y/N, time and again, it wasn’t the power that marked destiny but the profound sense of belonging that transcended the boundaries between different beings. After all, amid the chaos of wolves, vampires, witches, and humans, love proved to be the most transcendent power of all.

Hoseok and Y/N held on to their love in defiance of prevailing norms. Despite the forbidden nature of a werewolf-human bond, they found solace in stolen moments and secret rendezvous.

As Hoseok’s transformation drew near every full moon, he sought refuge in Y/N’s presence, her understanding quieting the storm within. Her love and acceptance provided him a sanctuary, a place where he was seen for more than his beastly phase but as a sentient being capable of profound love.

Y/N, for her part, while fearful at first, found courage in Hoseok’s oceans. His demonstrative loyalty, inherent in his wolf nature, was a testament to his genuine feelings for her. His eyes held promises of eternal devotion and a fierce need to protect her, instilling in her the courage to face the backlash of their unconventional love.

Contrasting their world with the vampires’ eternal seduction dance and witches’ harmonious coexistence, their love story, raw and unfiltered, echoed with defiance that questioned established societal constructs. While they might have been feared for their forbidden connection, their deeply emotional narrative began to draw some unexpected allies among their contemporaries.

In the backdrop of the seasonal rites of mating season, their love bloomed, resonating with a quiet strength that somehow found a way to survive amidst the chaos. Indeed, Hoseok and Y/N were mirror reflections of their world, marked by diversity and dynamism swaying to the rhythm of love’s power. Despite their circumstances, Hoseok and Y/N remained hopeful, choosing to face whatever obstacles lay ahead together.

As long as their hearts echoed the same rhythm, as the moon would bear witness to their love, they vowed to continue their dance. Their love, however forbidden, was a testament to the extraordinary, an emblem of resilience and audacity, and the epitome of a tale that dared to wield the special amidst the ordinary.

On one such night, with the moon casting long, weaving shadows around them, they found themselves in a secret retreat—a haven for their forbidden love. Hoseok’s amber eyes flitted to Y/N, his gaze heavy with desire.

“Do you trust me?” Hoseok’s low voice broke the silence, his demeanor remaining poised even as his wolfish instincts swelled inside him, itching to claim her.

“I would trust you with my life, Hoseok.” Y/N replied, her voice barely a whisper.

“Give yourself to me, love.” Hoseok coaxed her, his voice sultry and hypnotic. “I want to show you the depths of my desire, the extent of my love… Will you let me?”

Her heart pounded as she managed a small “yes,” surrendering to the raw desire reflected in his eyes. As Hoseok leaned in, his hot breath danced across her neck, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine. His husky whisper echoed in her ear, heavy with promise and desire: “Tonight belongs to us.”

“And will you trust me with your body?” His low voice rang with confident anticipation. Hoseok’s amber eyes darkened at her words, his desire practically radiating from him.

“Yes.” she whispered, causing a predatory grin to spread across Hoseok’s face.

His hands traced over her body, his fingers creating a map of desire as he undressed her. Each touch promised the pleasure to come, stirring a deep need within Y/N.

Slowly, he nestled himself between her neck, softly kissing her skin and leaving bruises, marking her as his. Her breath hitched as he pulled away and looked into her eyes, fire mirroring fire. “Tonight, Y/N,” he growled, “I mate with you. I claim you in the most primal way.”

“First,” he rumbled, withdrawing slightly to trace a thumb over her stomach. “We take the rest off.”

His palm ghosted over her clothed breasts before drifting down her hips, and Hoseok took his time unbuttoning her pants, revealing her aching cunt to him. His lips never left her skin, further inflaming the mounting need as his other hand untangled his own restraints, shedding their last inhibitions.

As the clothes puddled at their feet, the amber glow in his eyes intensified to an inferno as he took in the sight of her laid bare beneath him. With every breath she took, soft and needy, he reveled in the anticipation of the storm to come.

The first touch was a tease—a whisper of skin on skin—as Hoseok framed her body between his strong thighs, his hardened length grazing tantalizingly against her thigh. He wasn’t rushing them into it; instead, every brush of his finger on her skin promised what would unfold.

His fingers explored the folds of her, teasing out delicious little whimpers as he swirled over her clit, bringing her pleasure. He withdrew the moment he noticed how worked up she was getting, leaving her a panting, writhing mess under his commanding gaze. The sight of her, drenched in desire for him, was something he could feast on forever.

“Patience, Y/N…" he chastises gently, a smirk on his lips.

Then, aligning himself at her entrance, he looked deeply into her eyes. He was so close to breaking. So close to taking her and making her his. Hoseok growled, “Tonight, Y/N, I mate with you. I claim you in every way possible.”

Hoseok, aligning at her entrance, lured his gaze once again to meet with hers. Unspoken words were exchanged through the silence—a sacred symphony of raw want and untamed anticipation seeping into their connection.

With a growl that resounded and a sinfully deep baritone that sent shivers cascading down her spine, he voiced his primal intent, “You’re mine tonight, Y/N. I need you. I’m going to make you fucking mine.”

A moment stretched into eternity as he maintained the delicious, tightening suspense—a predatory dance—before the imminent chase. His cock, hard and throbbing, nudged teasingly against her slick folds, each brushing a scorching whisper of what was to come, setting aflame her deepest cravings.

Their world contracted until it was only them, woven together by the promise of the impending ecstasy. The air around them pulsed with overriding desire, skin on skin, and the irresistible pressure at her core was nothing compared to the erotic charge that vibrated between them.

Slowly, achingly, he pushed the tip inside her. The intrusion was just the hint of what was to come, a heady foretaste of the imminent coupling. The faint stretch was nothing compared to the tidal wave of pleasure already threatening to break, threatening to drown them in its intensity.

Her every gasp and whimper, each shake and clench beneath him, only fueled his untamed desire. Yet he held back, ruthlessly restraining his own raw urgency that screamed at him to plunge deep within her. Her body enveloped him inch by sinful inch.

His amber eyes never wavered from hers, capturing each flicker of pleasure, each gasping breath, and each ephemeral blink. These nuances painted a tempting picture of her journey towards pure bliss, fueling the embers of his own restraint to cinders.

Slowly, he moved. A test, a teasing motion as he heard her cries of want. Part of him was worried that he’d push her too far. His amber eyes shimmered, reflecting the intoxicating dance of lust and love, remaining latched onto her gaze while she drank in every subtle hint of pleasure that danced across her captivating features. Each gasping breath she took, each fleeting blink, became a symbol of her escalating ecstasy, fueling his restraint and teetering on the edge of obliteration.

He moved with measured, almost torturous, deliberation. Each subtle roll of his hips sent waves of tantalizing friction through their bodies. The act was a teasing initiation. Under his lingering gaze, he sought signs of discomfort, aiming to temper the raw sensuality of their situation with instinctual protectiveness. However, with every whine and whimper she bequeathed, he knew the pushing only enhanced her pleasure.

He watched her, relishing each minute tremor that clung to her lashes and the shaky trails of heated pants escaping her ruby-tinted lips. Her feast of reactions was a testament to his doing, setting aflame the embers of his need and chipping away at the last vestiges of his restraint.

Her legs wound tighter around his hips, urging him to break the thread of control he precariously hung onto. Her silent plea was heard loudly in his guilt-inducing consciousness, yet he refrained, fuelled by the intoxicating thrill of prolonging their inevitable climax.

The primal dance of their bodies continued; the rhythm was jagged and almost painfully slow, pushing them to the boundary of their restraint. Every whispered word of desire in her ear, every teasing brush against her sensitive peaks, stoked an overwhelming yearning within them. Their connection was a tempest, blistering and fervent, interlaced with an elemental passion that swirling amidst them. United in rhythm, their bodies gravitated toward a brink they hesitated to unmask, holding the moment captive in its incandescent suspense.

Feeling the vibrations against their feverish skin and the mounting tension, they inched on the edge, letting the searing waves of need wash over them, intertwining them in an intricate dance of want and restraint. It was a seductive struggle between the primal urge to surrender to carnal instincts and the intense desire to extend the sweet torture of anticipation.

He withdrew and thrusted in again, setting their senses ablaze in a swirl of tantalizing entropy, evoking sinful moans and painting delight across her blushed visage. Each plea that dripped from her parted lips echoed his name and their bodies.

“Hoseok,” She spoke with pleaded words, “Don’t treat me like a doll, please. I want you. I want you to ruin me.”

At her plea, Hoseok found himself skimming on the edge of his resolution. Her voiced confession ricocheted within his being, setting off a wildfire that threatened to consume his restraint. Hoseok growled lowly, the sound rumbling deep within his chest, echoing the carnal hunger that had taken control.

“Y/N,” his voice, laced with a sinful rasp, clung to the rhythm of their bodies moving against each other in slow, deliberate motions. “My love… you’re so sure?”

Her hesitation was a captured kite within him, dancing in the winds of his desire. His eyes bore into hers again, desperate to ascertain that she was ready to step into the whirlwind of carnal pleasure.

A firm nod from her, a breathless ‘Yes,’ was the only affirmation he needed. She was his, and he was hers. Completely.

“Hoseok,” she panted once again, her body writhing against his touch. Her plea echoed in the quiet room “I want you to ruin me.”

With a possessive growl, Hoseok snarled back, the primal need within him rising at her request. “Just as you wish,” he husked, each syllable dripping with raw desire. “I intend to make you feel every stroke, every caress, and every pulse of my need inside of you.”

His movements became bolder, more assertive, pushing deeper with each rhythmic thrust, eliciting pleas and gasps that tumbled from her lips as sacred whispers. Yet he was careful, ever so careful, refusing to rush their journey to the ecstasy he planned to impart.

He didn’t move inside her again until she was panting, the sheen of sweat making her skin glow against the moonlight filtering through the window. The room filled with the erotic symphony of her desires escaping through hitched breaths, beckoning him to explore the depths of the ecstasy he could deliver.

“Tell me,” Hoseok murmured, “who do you belong to?”

With each stroke of his hips, he drove his point home, a perfect syncopation of their heartbeats and his thrusts. She began to break, the once languid pace accelerating into a frenzy. But not yet; he had vowed to clarify his claim and let it last until their bodies could hold no more.

“Y/N, who do you fucking belong to?” Hoseok spoke through gritted teeth. He thrusts into her hard, his eyes dark and not leaving her own. His voice tightened with lustful sincerity; each syllable echoing her name was like a sin itself, evoking profound longing within her. The room was filled with hot tension, entangling their senses into a vortex of sinful craving.

Hoseok’s command was not a question but a raw declaration of dominance, mirroring the primal intensity burning within their gaze. Framed within the confines of the room, their silhouettes painted a raw, sensual painting—bodies sheened with sweat, blending into one another rhythmically as they danced on the brink of shared ecstasy.

“Answer me, Y/N.” His baritone fell around her like a veil of silk laced with lethal obsession. “Who owns you?” Each word is punctuated by thrusts so precisely, forming a deliciously sinful haze. His gaze held her captive, her body shimmering under his touch as she fought to form words amidst the overwhelming waves of desire.

A strangled moan escaped her lips as she finally managed to utter, “Only you, Hoseok. Only you.”

Satisfaction glittered in his darkened gaze before he lowered his lips to hers, swallowing her cry of pleasure in a scorching kiss. At her admission, his rhythm became more frenzied, hips snapping against hers with such ferocity that she could hardly keep up. The room vibrated with their uncontained moans, only their heavy breathing and pounding heartbeats forming a symphony of unrestrained desire.

But Hoseok was nothing if not a deviant. He slowed his movements, drawing out the pleasurable torment with a devilish smirk playing on his lips. His hands trailed her quivering body, tracing the burning path with caresses that felt both soothing and torture.

He leaned in, nuzzling his nose against her ear, whispering in a voice that dripped raw, primal desire. “That’s right, baby, only I can touch you like this. Only I can make you break beneath me.” The shared ecstasy became a compelling game, a sensual battle between want and restraint, each teasing touch stoking their yearning to the brink of madness. Their world revolved around each other, their senses attuned only to their bodies’ rhythm and shared breaths. They teetered on the edge, neither willing to be the first to succumb, their bond tangled in a delicate dance of dominance and surrender. “And when I cum inside you, everyone will know you’re mine. Nobody will want a filthy whore like you. I’m making you mine.”

Hoseok’s words were sin personified, wrapped in a sultry baritone that sent shivers down her spine. The raw sensuality he imbued in his declaration was a turn-on, fueling her desire to an indescribable high.

“That’s right,” he growled against the shell of her ear, hands gripping her waist, guiding their unhurried rhythm. Once again, his hips met hers in a blissfully torturous cadence. However torturous, it was a pleasure she was willing to endure under Hoseok’s skillful ministrations. “Every time I fill you up, you’ll know… only I can make you feel this way… You’re mine, Y/N. I’ll keep coming inside you until you have my pups.”

Their bodies moved in a perfect rhythm, the intoxicating heat between them growing insurmountable. He was a master of this compelling game, effortlessly navigating the thin line between desire and restraint, between pleasure and pain, pushing them closer and closer to the brink.

His hold on her tightened. He was teetering on the edge, consumed by the reckless need to stake his claim. The pleasure was becoming unbearable, threatening to break him. Teasing her, he dipped a finger into her core again, the sensations alighting their bodies aflame.

“Hoseok, I—” a filthy moan cut off her plea as he pushed deeper within her, one last long, slow, and hard thrust that challenged every shred of control they’d been clinging onto.

“That’s right,” Hoseok breathed into her ear, voice raspy from the strain of holding back. “Tell everyone who you belong to when I make you cum. When I make you scream my name.”

With that, their control snapped, Hoseok thrusting into her one last time, a meandering journey of pleasure reaching its peak. His breath hitched as the climax washed over him, stroking into her with a finality that echoed a raw, primal growl. A hot wave of euphoria spread through them as he came inside her, marking her as his.

“Only… only you, Hoseok,” she whispered, her body quaking, breaths ragged against the overwhelming sensations that tidal waved through her, intensifying as his name fell from her lips. He rode out their pleasure, each pulse of his release sending them spiraling into a visceral realm of primal satisfaction.

Catching his breath, he pulled out and watched as his cum slowly spilled out from her. Hoseok let out a throaty groan, his head lulling to the side as he watched it spill out like a scene from his favorite movie.

“Fuck.” He spoke up, his fingers playing with her pussy, merely avoiding his cum that was spilling out and onto the messy sheets. “This will be my favorite view.”

[highlordofkrypton]

COSMOGENY // PREVIEW

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Is it the next chapter? Not sure, but I like it and I think a lot of Tamlin enjoyers would too.

“The Calanmai is the other way,” he deadpans, watching the shapeshifter in the darkness. Though he uses the foliage to hide himself, Tamlin cannot hide from him. Not under the cover of Night. Not when his magic is so bright and full of life. It’s tinged with reddish anger—anger meant for him.

Tamlin’s hands are clawed with dark brown fur all the way up to his elbows. His eyes flicker whenever they catch the faintest light. With parted lips, he breathes and Nyx catches the wolf’s fangs. Atop his head, a crown of great antlers. The flick of a pale tail catches Nyx’s attention, long and tufted at the end. The Great Rite has tapped into his most primal self, a hungering beast let loose upon the lands.

Princeps Rex.

The High King.

He has arrived.

Nyx is at fault for offering a sacrifice of flesh to charge the ritual. He should have known Tamlin would take it all upon himself, but such is his plight. A self-sacrificing regent. He watches the rise and fall of Tamlin’s muscular chest; they are mirrors of one another, the blonde King in his ritual paints that seem to move of their own free will, like snakes upon his skin, and the dark Death coated in grasping bloodied handprints.

READ COSMOGENY ON AO3.

[sillymickel]

Aug 19th thru 23rd, 2024, The Secret Life of Stones: Matter, Divinity, and The Path of Ecstasy by Michael Adzema is free

The book, The Secret Life of Stones: Matter, Divinity, & the Path of Ecstasy*, by Michael Adzema delves into the concept that the Universe's true nature is consciousness, with the physical world being an illusion shaped by human perception.

It highlights how quantum physics and consciousness research have led to the understanding that stones and matter are fundamentally linked to this consciousness.

The text emphasizes a worldview where individuals are deeply interconnected with all aspects of existence, from other species on Earth to higher orders of beings like planets and galaxies.

Through psychotechnologies, people can merge with various consciousness levels, including inanimate forms and subatomic levels, fostering a sense of belonging and unity with the Universe.

[arewordsenough]

Derek Hale - Circle of the Land Druid

The Circle of the Land is made up of mystics and sages who safeguard ancient knowledge and rites through a vast oral tradition. These druids meet within sacred circles of trees or standing stones to whisper primal secrets in Druidic. The circle’s wisest members preside as the chief priests of communities that hold to the Old Faith and serve as advisors to the rulers of those folk. As a member of this circle, your magic is influenced by the land where you were initiated into the circle’s mysterious rites.

Teen Wolf characters as D&D 5e subclasses (21/21)

[justicegundam82]

Hackmaster to PF1 Conversion: Boarfolk

Hello! Here is my latest conversion... a rather simple one, all things considered, this one coming from the Hackmaster tabletop games.

I should add that I got some ideas from the work of the Creature Codex blog, who converted the Pigfolk some time ago.

I hope you will enjoy my conversion, and as always, tell me if there is something I should improve.

BOARFOLK

Image (c) GreyRat48 on DeviantArt

This humanoid creature is tall and well-built, with the head of a wild boar and covered in hirsute, coarse fur.

BOARFOLK                       CR 2

XP 600

CG Medium Humanoid

Init +0; Senses low-light vision, scent; Perception +3

DEFENSE

AC 15, touch 10, flat-footed 15 (+4 natural, +1 shield)

hp 19 (3d8+6)

Fort +5, Ref +1, Will +1

Defensive Abilities ferocity

OFFENSE

Speed 40 ft.

Melee obsidian machete +5 (1d6+2 / 19-20; fragile) and bite -1 (1d4+1); or bite +4 (1d4+2)

Ranged sling +2 (1d4+2)

Special Attacks hatred (orcs)

STATISTICS

Str 15, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 15, Wis 11, Cha 8

Base Atk +2; CMB +4; CMD 14

Feats Power Attack, Weapon Focus (machete)

Skills Climb +6, Craft (weapons) +6, Knowledge (any one) +8, Perception +3, Profession (any one) +8, Survival +4

Languages Common, Orc

Special Qualities erudite

ECOLOGY

Environment temperate and cold forests

Organization solitary, pair, gang (3-10 plus 1 leader of level 2-4) or village (10-60 plus 1 lieutenant of level 2-4 every 20 individuals, 1 druid/shaman of level 4-6 and 1 chief of level 5-7)

Treasure standard (obsidian machete, sling with 20 bullets, buckler, other treasure)

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Erudite (Ex): A boarfolk can choose a single Knowledge skill to always be considered a class skill for him. Boarfolk usually choose Knowledge (engineering) or Knowledge (nature) for this ability.

Hatred (Ex): Boarfolk gain a +1 racial bonus on attack rolls against humanoid creatures of the orc subtype because of their special training against these hated foes.

Boarfolk are a surprisingly ancient race, rumored to be the original ancestry that orcs and pigfolk originated from. Unlike their brutish cousins, however, boarfolk have a rather sophisticated culture with intricate religious practices, and their cities are known for their remarkable innovations and efficiency. Most of them have a natural predilection for mathematics and physics. Boarfolk communities tend to be relatively small, living in simple but well-constructed villages hidden in deep forests, where they use trees for their shade and natural beauty.

Not ones to neglect their physical prowess either, boarfolk are trained in fighting from an early age, and are known for their skill in using their specially-forged obsidian weapons. They tend to be peaceful and avoid unnecessary violence, but their closeness to crueler and more belligerent orc subraces is a sore point for boarfolk - they regard orcs as degenerates, and pigfolk as abominations who offended their deities in ages past with some horrific sacrilege, and the hatred is very much mutual. The pigfolk's tendency for worshipping Great Old Ones lends credence to these rumors, but nothing definite is known. In any case, comparing boarfolk to pigfolk is a safe way to earn the boarfolk's scorn and irritation.

Boarfolk tend to revere gods of nature or Primal Spirits, and many of their rites revolve around trees. Most of their divine spellcasters are druids, but shamans are quite common as well. Arcane spellcasters are rather common as well, as a boarfolk's sharp mind is surprisingly apt for the study of such magic.

Boarfolk are rather large for Medium creatures, and they average about 7 feet in height, while weighing 300 pounds.

[haggishlyhagging]

Among the plaited objects in the menstruant's hut, one of the first may have been her rug. Since she was forbidden to touch the ground with any part of her body, leaves were spread for her, banana leaves, broad pandanus leaves, pine boughs, or bark. Later the floor covering would be woven or fitted together—mats, sticks of bamboo, slats of wood. From this practice, it seems reasonable to suppose, people may have developed the habit of putting wooden floors in their houses.

During her seclusions she would have also acquired the wooden chair and stool as a matter of course, because her vulva could not touch the earth: "Among the Yabim and Bukaua, two neighbouring and kindred tribes on the coast of Northern New Guinea, a girl at puberty is secluded for some five or six weeks in an inner part of the house; but she may not sit on the floor, lest her uncleanliness should cleave to it, so a log of wood is placed for her to squat on." The menstruant squatted on special materials that kept her safely raised: slabs of wood, slabs of leather, woven mats, and in clothmaking cultures, pillows. Rachel, in Genesis, sat upon a special "camel chair" seat to menstruate.

The menstruant was propped up with logs or branches on three sides and underneath, to keep her contained and to keep her from lying down or from falling asleep. This form of her sitting body, outlined in wood, needed only to have its parts lashed together to become what we know as a chair. Men of course acquired the right to sit in chairs, just as they acquired clothing. My father and mother each had a designated chair, and they rarely sat anywhere else; chairs now belong to both genders. But as with all cosmetikos, the ideology for and the source of the form chair belong to the menstrual seclusion rites.

From the nakedness of the primal ancestress in her elemental hut, to the menstruant's emergence in full public ceremony at the end of her seclusion, women enacted and communicated fundamental mysteries by dressing in metaforms. The menstruant's paraphernalia piled up around her —her bowls, her straws, her mats, and her plates. They were hers alone; no one else could use them without being harmed. If she didn't break them, they had to be stored in special places, kept away from others in what would eventually become trunks, boxes, baskets, closets, cupboards—and my mother's red cedar chest. Her utensils would be carefully wrapped and cleaned, kept, like her, in the dark. She would become the one with the overflowing purse, the trunks of clothing, the hatboxes, the rolls of rugs and blankets, and the shelves of household "goods" that formed the basis, not only for family and village life, but for all technological measurement. The woman would carry her paraphernalia with her. She would become the gender who—around the world—carries the largest burdens.

-Judy Grahn, Blood, Bread, and Roses: How Menstruation Created the World

[mediasaurs]

T. rex Madness Round 1 Masterpost

All round 1 polls are here!

Prehistoric Planet (Hank) vs. Dinosaur Office (Terry)

Extreme Dinosaurs (T-Bone) vs Doctor Who (Deep Breath T. rex)

Fossil Specimen (Black Beauty: RTMP 81.6.1) vs There Are Tyrannosaurs Trying On Pants in My Bedroom

DC Comics (Batcave T. rex) vs Old grocery store T. rex toy

Doraemon: Nobita’s Dinosaur (T. rex) vs Ice Age (Momma Dino)

Dinosaur Revolution (Junior) vs Dinosaur Island (2014/2015)

Prehistoric Park (Terrence) vs Barney (Barney)

T. Rex the band vs. Prehistoric Park (Matilda)

Digimon (Tyrannomon) vs. Prehistoric Kingdom T. rex

Project for Awesome (T. Rax) vs. Safari Ltd. Feathered T. rex

You are Umasou (Heart) vs. Fossil Specimen (Jane BMRP 2002.4.1)

Jurassic Park (Rexy) vs. Dinosaurs (Roy Hess)

Night at the Museum (Rexy) vs. The Lost World (1925)

Beast Wars (Megatron) vs. Chrome game T. rex

Pokémon (Tyranitar) vs. Pokémon (Tyrantrum)

Fossil Specimen (Stan BHI 3033) vs. Toy Story (Rex)

Charles Knight T. rex vs. Transformers (Grimlock)

Theodore Rex (Theodore Rex) vs. Walking With (Mother T. rex)

Super Mario Odyssey (T. rex) vs. Banjo Tooie (T. rex Banjo)

Fossil Specimen (Sue FMNH PR 2081) vs. Jimmy Neutron “Sorry, Wrong Era” T. rex

King Kong 1933 (Tyrannosaurus rex) vs. Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers (Tyrannosaurus Dinozord)

Marvel Comics (Devil Dinosaur) vs. Fossil Specimen (Rexy AMNH 5027)

When Dinosaurs Roamed America (Narrated by John Goodman) vs. We’re Back! (Rex, voiced by John Goodman)

The Magic School Bus (T. rex) vs. Sinclair Dinoland 1964 World’s Fair

King of the Dinosaurs by Michael Berenstain vs. Dinosaur Train (Buddy)

The Good Dinosaur (Ramsey) vs. Meet the Robinsons (Tiny)

Fossil Specimen (B-rex: MOR 1125) vs. Primal (Fang)

The Land Before Time (Chomper) vs. Project G.e.e.K.e.R. (Noah)

Saurian T. rex vs. Gravity Falls (T. rex in amber)

Jurassic Park (Lost World family) vs. 3D Dinosaur Adventure (Assembled T. rex)

Fantasia (Rite of Spring T. rex) vs. Prehysteria! (Elvis)

Yu-Gi-Oh! (Ultimate Conductor Tyranno) vs. Prehistoric Planet (Flirt Man)

[self-spaghettification]

Callum is going to learn Star Magic in Season 6

(or try to, anyway)

I have a theory on the order Callum will learn the arcanums—if he gets any more.

In the very first intro to the show, this is the order Aaravos mentions the arcanum in:

Sun, Moon. Stars, Earth. Sky, Ocean.

Callum connected to the Sky arcanum first, and then the Ocean. User raayllum compared him to Icarus, who flew too close to the sun and then fell into the depths of the ocean.

Adding onto that, I think Callum would get Stars next to symbolize another rise to great heights and then Earth as another crash. (I think that would be it but if they’re really going all the way then yes, next would be sun and then moon.)

To support the idea that Callum will learn star magic next, in the teaser for season 6, we see him blindfolded and freefalling, and the celestial elves in the starscraper are also blindfolded. It’s mentioned that star magic is the hardest to grasp and that celestial elves dedicate their lives to understanding the stars. So if anyone can teach him star magic, well…that isn’t an ancient manipulative startouch elf, it’s probably them.

Why would he seek to learn star magic, why now?

Most Obviously: Ambition as a Mage:

Callum has said he’s read up as much as he could on all magic and whenever he meets a mage he asks for their help learning that arcanum. IE: Akiyu.

The celestial elves may not be star mages (or maybe they are, who knows) but he will more likely than not use the opportunity to seek out an understanding of star magic while he’s there.

“It's protected by an ancient sect of Skywing Elves called the Celestial elves at the Starscraper, this unbelievably high tower, far, far north beyond the Frozen Sea.” - 5x05

2. Freeing Rayla’s Parents

“The spell is complex and it uses star magic so, to do it, I need these. Quasar Diamonds.” - 5x04

Since practicing star magic is key to freeing Rayla’s parents from the coin and that spell also requires the presence of 3 star magic gems, the quasar diamonds, doing the spell may require some understanding of star magic as well. The alternative may be dark magic and that would leave him open to possession by Aaravos and possibly harming those around him including Rayla.

That’s the third possible reason he would seek to learn star magic :

3. Protection Against Aaravos

if Aaravos is connecting to Callum’s dreams and posessing him via star magic, maybe in learning it he can figure out how to counteract it or use the bond with Aaravos to his advantage instead of only being the victim of it.

(insert images of use of star magic)

4. Sky and Stars close overlap

Sky and Stars share more traits in common than any other arcanum, and it simply makes sense that skywing elves and a primal mage who first connected to the sky would have the greatest understanding of it. It makes sense to connect with it more than others.

Vision is also used to describe Sky magic, and truth used to describe Sun magic.

5. Proving worthy of using the Quasar Diamonds and/or the Novablade

It seems hella unlikely these guys are just gonna want to give up their most prized and fiercely guarded possessions to some outsiders just because they asked nicely. They’re going to have to prove their magical capabilities and respect for their understanding of star magic, maybe even do trust falls or other rites, like that which we see on screen in the trailer.

In conclusion, I believe it will be key for Callum to try to learn more about star magic, by following the same rites the celestial elves do - getting as close to the stars as possible in the starscraper, becoming as secluded and distant from the rest of xadia as they possibly can (like the startouch elves do) cutting themselves off from one or more of their senses and presumably learning how to trust fate and understand it (freefall).

And if it doesn’t work out to learn star magic and Callum has to, once again, rely on dark magic when un-coining Rayla’s parents, well, things would not end well, ie: he would “play right into [Aaravos’s] hands”, possibly paralleling 5x08 but even worse, like Hanna Hoffer warned about 5x08 having “kiddie gloves on.”

So, I guess we’ll see :) (my bets are that it doesn’t work and everything goes to hell)

[theblackbookofarkera]

Gonga Wonga

Gonga Wong is the fearsome deity worshipped by the Fishspine Islanders, a tribe known for their savage and cannibalistic ways. This god, shrouded in mystery and dread, is believed to be the disembodied spirit of a giant who once ruled over Fishspine Island with an iron fist.

Gonga Wonga is a capricious and malevolent entity, embodying the raw, untamed power of the earth. His presence is felt through the eerie sounds that echo through the dense forests of Fishspine Island. The Islanders believe that the mad voice and the rhythmic pounding of drums they hear in the depths of the jungle are manifestations of Gonga Wonga's will. These sounds are both feared and revered, seen as omens and messages from their god.

The Fishspine Islanders offer sacrifices to Gonga Wonga, believing that his favor grants them strength and protection. Their rituals are brutal and often involve blood rites and cannibalistic feasts, reflecting their belief that consuming the flesh of their enemies imbues them with the power of their god. These ceremonies are conducted deep within the forest, where the sounds of drums and the god's voice are strongest, creating an atmosphere of dread and reverence.

In the lore of the Fishspine Islanders, Gonga Wonga is depicted as a towering figure with dark gray skin, covered in brutal scars that tell tales of ancient battles and divine wrath. His visage is one of both awe and terror, a reminder of the god's volatile temperament and immense power. The scars that mar his body are said to be the result of his own violent outbursts, a testament to his capricious and destructive nature.

Gonga Wonga's influence permeates every aspect of Fishspine Islander society. His worship is a reflection of their harsh and isolated existence, a constant reminder of the delicate balance between reverence and fear. The Fishspine Islanders' belief in Gonga Wonga shapes their interactions with the world and each other, reinforcing their identity as a fierce and resilient people.

In the grand tapestry of Fishspine Island, Gonga Wonga stands as a symbol of the raw, untamed power of the earth. His worship is a reminder of the primal forces that govern the world, a testament to the enduring strength and adaptability of those who revere him.