#revelatory spells

[breelandwalker]

hey❤️ I hope you are well! if it's not too much trouble I need to advice. what would you suggest using in a truth spell to bring hidden information/secrets to the light?

thank you for your help

My instinct with such spells is always exposing something to sunlight, usually in the form of leaving something sitting out in sunbeams until it feels "done."

Here's something to try:

On a piece of paper, write down the thing you want brought to light or discovered. Include pertinent details like time, place, persons involved, and so forth. You could use a command or phrase it as a question, whichever makes more sense to you. ("This spell will reveal the party responsible for X." vs "Who is responsible for X?")

Soak dried or fresh rosemary in water with a few drops of lemon juice overnight to create a simple potion. I find rosemary is helpful for clarity and lemon juice always reminds me of that old spy novel trope of the secret codes written in lemon juice that only show up when the paper is exposed to the heat of a flame.

Place the paper face-up and flat on a plate or shallow dish and strain the rosemary-lemon water over it until the paper is just covered. Leave the plate in a sunny spot where it won't be disturbed until all the water evaporates and the paper is fully dried out.

If the information you seek does not come to light within about a month, try the spell again with different parameters or different phrasing.

Of course, you can always try your usual methods of divination alongside or instead of this spell, and employ whatever practical fact-finding measures you may have access to.

And as with all revelatory magics, be careful what you wish for. Be sure the question you're asking is one whose answer you're prepared to know.

Hope this helps!

[cuubism]

Bookstore cryptid Dream part THREE:

--

Hob squints at his phone, wondering how he possibly managed to set his phone language to-- is that Thai? What? Granted, he'd once set it to Japanese in an extremely ill-fated attempt to learn a new language, only to realize his error the first time he tried to drive somewhere and lost all sense of the nav. And then took three hours trying to figure out how to reset the language. Never again.

So how the fuck did he get it set on another language he can't even transcribe into Google translate to get to Settings?

He sighs, shoving the thing back in his pocket and resigning himself to a phone-less day. Sad, to be thinking of it like that. Once upon a time he could live without a constant internet connection, but no longer, apparently.

Then he gets down to the cafe, and the handwritten menu has been pencilled so badly it's illegible. What are they teaching kids these days if not decent penmanship? He'd have sworn the uni kids he'd hired to man the cafe when he's not there could read.

But he's supposed to open in about five minutes, so he leaves it for now.

The rest of the morning goes reasonably smoothly. Hob makes coffee and sandwiches while one of the hopefully-literate uni kids handles the orders--he finds the repetitive process of espresso-making soothing.

Then Dream comes in, and Hob takes over. It's his cafe, and he'll take the orders from his pretty goth "librarian", thanks.

"Dream," he greets, before Dream can say 'Hob Gadling' in his posh, solemn voice. "You going to let me make you something? Or just delivering another book? Because I'll be honest, I'm not sure I'm ready for another revelatory story from my past yet."

"I will accept coffee, thank you," says Dream, inclining his head. Hob punches it into the machine--he's already decided he's not charging Dream for anything, Dream keeps giving him free books after all--but he's got to keep inventory.

Or he tries to punch it in. The screen is all glitchy and scrambled, the words unintelligible, and he sighs in frustration. Damn thing.

Hob gives up, makes Dream coffee, and when he returns Dream does, of course, have a book for him.

"Simply a recommendation," he says, when Hob looks at it with some trepidation. "I think you might enjoy it."

Hob exchanges the coffee for the book. Looks at the cover. And squints in confusion. "Dream, I'm sorry to tell you this, but I can't read Arabic." Or whatever language. He's pretty sure it's Arabic, but he's not an expert.

Dream, for once, looks flummoxed. "This is an English copy," he says.

Hob opens the cover, wondering if maybe it's a translation inside--but nope, still Arabic. "I'm pretty sure I know English, Dream."

Dream takes the book back. Turns it over. Flips through the pages. Holds it by the spine and shakes it out. Looks at the cover again, then at Hob. "This is English," he says.

What this is is the dumbest conversation Hob's ever had. "Dream. Come on."

"Does it not look like that to you?" Dream asks. When Hob shakes his head, Dream sets his coffee and the book down on the counter and takes Hob's hand, dragging him out into the cafe proper. Hob, stunned, just follows him.

Dream pushes him down into a seat. "Read this," he says, and somehow procures another book, smaller this time, from absolutely nowhere.

Hob looks at it. "This is in French." He does know some French, but not whatever niche topic this is about.

Dream makes a frustrated sound. "Spell it out."

And Hob... tries. But every time he latches on a word, the letters.... change. Somehow.

"What," he says, though it's more of a squeak. "I swear to god I can read."

Dream takes the book back. "It's as I feared." Then, instead of explaining whatever the fuck he means, he asks, "Where do you live?"

"Um." Hob tries not to imagine Dream in his living space. "Upstairs?"

"Come, then." And Dream stands and drags Hob after him to the stairs in the back hall, as if he's the one who lives here and not Hob. He's very determined, and still hasn't explained a bloody thing.

Once Hob's let them in the flat above the cafe, Dream goes straight for the bookcase. It's still a bit of a mess--Hob hasn't entirely moved in--but Dream starts scanning the heaps of books anyway, running his fingers along the spines, flipping them over, restacking them in complicated piles. Hob just watches nervously.

Finally, Dream whirls around, a thin black paperback volume clasped in his hands. "I thought so," he hisses at the book. And then to Hob: "Did you get this recently?"

"Um." Hob thinks back. It's not one from Dream's shop, he still only has the two. "Yeah? Think so. Someone left it downstairs." The cafe has a shelf of borrowable books that people can take as long as they leave one in return.

Dream actually growls at the book. Hob's not sure why. It's just a book of poetry.

"Will you tell me what's going on now?"

"The book I gave you is not in Arabic, Hob Gadling," Dream says. "Nor French. You have been cursed."

Hob has... a lot of scrambly thoughts about that sentence. But the first that comes out is, "By a book?"

Dream nods. "It was planted in your possession by whoever left it downstairs."

"Why? Wait, what does it even do? Make things look like different languages?" Hob really hadn't thought opening a cafe was going to get him put on a magical hit list. Jesus Christ.

"It makes the written word unintelligible to you," says Dream. "Whether via a language you don't speak, or via simple recombination." Hob remembers-- of course. The phone. The menu board. "More a nuisance than a true threat to your person. It was meant to send a message."

Hob sits down heavily on the sofa. Cursed? Seriously? "What the hell kind of message, Dream? If you hadn't noticed, I'm running a cafe, not courting the occult."

Although. Maybe he'd like to be courting the occult. If that occult is Dream.

"A message to me," says Dream grimly. "I have enemies."

Hob can't help himself, he bursts out laughing. "You own a bookstore, how do you have enemies?"

"It's a dangerous occupation," Dream says darkly. He sits next to Hob. "I... am sorry. That you were drawn into it. A penalty of being associated with me."

He sounds sad now, not so much about the "enemies", but at the thought that his company might have brought Hob to harm. Hob lays his hand over Dream's where it rests on his knee. "Hey, it's not your fault. And you know, there's still audiobooks."

Dream chuckles. "I can undo the curse," he says. Which is relieving. "And I will destroy this." He sets the poetry book on the coffee table with a look of menace.

"You know, I haven't even read it?" Hob says. "Just the first few pages."

"It is very good," Dream says, to his surprise. "Hence its danger." Then he turns Hob's face towards him with a hand on his chin. Hob goes totally still in surprise. With his other hand, Dream taps his forehead, and a static shock jumps through Hob's body. "There."

A cloud Hob hadn't realized was covering his mind dissipates. "That easy?"

"For me." Dream stands again, swiping up the poetry book. He looks like he's about to leave, and Hob is almost reeling too much to stop him, but he manages to snag Dream's sleeve. "Wait, won't you stay and finish your coffee? And I want to hear about the book that's not actually in Arabic."

Dream gives him a tiny smile. "Very well. For a little while." He tucks the poetry book into the depths of his coat, and Hob doesn't see it again.

Hob shepherds him back downstairs, makes him more coffee as the other's gone cold, and hears all about The Golden Tree, a novel about a modern-day quest inspired by the Holy Grail. And nothing more about curses, though he is rather interested in that, too.

And in Dream. And his strange magic. And his serendipities.

But he figures he'll have time to learn more about that.

Especially if he's intent on courting the occult.

[syndrossi]

resonant ch28 dvd commentary

Favorite line(s):

Daemon cradled him to his chest, rocking him as though doing so might take them back to his first moments of life, fresh from the womb and bellowing fury at the world. I was not there for his first breath. I cannot live to see his last.

Sobbed like an absolute mess writing Jon's death, but especially this part. Daemon already has so much bottled-up grief and regret over missing their childhood and infancy, there's something absolutely gutting about him rocking Jon in his arms, like the baby he never held, trying to coax life back into him, this twisted parallel to holding a stillborn child, life snuffed too soon.

And the despair at living to see that moment, at wanting to die before seeing it. (Only to "realize" later that the only way either of them could have died alone like that would have been if he weren't there to protect them.)

Favorite detail(s):

Probably all the hidden meaning and hints/clues scattered throughout the vision? I haven't seen anyone pick up on the bigger (in terms of revelatory rather than being obvious) ones yet, but they're there to read back over later and be like "ohhhh." Or to reread and see if you can tease them out!

One thing I thought about a lot, and wanted to remain consistent about, was the limitations of whoever is sending the visions. The only things they have "seen" is Jon and Rhaegar's deaths, though it's unclear how. (Did the candle extract them from Jon's nightmares? Did the sorcerers peer into their possible futures before stealing them away?)

So that means Baelon's and Aemon's deaths were not visions they could have constructed, they had to have come from somewhere else. Daemon was there for Baelon's death, so it's easy enough to recreate that from his memory. But where did Aemon's death come from? That's sort of the linchpin, if Daemon ever fully remembers the visions. Showing him his father's death doesn't mean Jon's and Rhaegar's deaths were anything other than illusions meant to manipulate him. But the details of Aemon's death felt very vivid, very accurate--if Daemon were to confirm that, he might be forced to accept the other visions.

(So...where did Aemon's death vision come from?)

Uuugh there's so much I want to talk about with the visions and the stuff just before/after the visions, but it risks getting spoilery. Best I can do is suggest that people read and reread the candle's/warlock's/sorcerer's words.

Favorite dynamic:

Oh no, this is hard to pick. I actually loved writing the first scene with Daemon and Viserys. The whole: "Am I one of your problems?" "Do you know how to be anything but?" exchange was another favorite of mine for its breathtaking sharpness, and Viserys's immediate regret afterward. Ironically, I thought that this scene might be one to soften people a bit toward Viserys, but the candle has worked its spell quite well, with most taking the candle's side on the matter.

Viserys is, on the surface, someone constantly getting in his own way, barely more than competent at his job on a good day, and he doesn't have many good days anymore. And he's trying to juggle the mess of the family politics/division on top of everything else, including the Volantis wrinkle and sudden prophecy children + uncertainty over what to do there other than hope Daemon can make more, preferably girls.

He seems like the architect of his own loneliness and isolation, but it's not just him. You have spiders like Otto who benefit from him being isolated and encourage it. Would Otto prefer that Viserys show obvious favoritism towards Aegon? Sure, it would help his case. But his hands-off approach means that Otto can mold Aegon and Aemond to the future he wants.

And then there's the chronic, pervasive pain and fatigue which sap his strength/will and make it easier not to fight. To not steel himself for the conflict of a family supper and instead take the dreamwine so that he can stop hurting for the day. When he's not drinking dreamwine, he's drinking wine, which has a similar numbing effect.

The greatest irony is that in this scene, we get Viserys entrusting various responsibilities to Daemon, a gesture that actually means something. He's letting Daemon choose tutors (usually the queen's job) and he's letting him lead the candle investigation (usually something he'd probably let Otto do). They're fumbling toward an understanding, with Daemon recognizing his loneliness and attempts at connection, and Viserys choosing to trust Daemon--

And then the candle sidles in, determined to nip that in the bud.

Runner up dynamic is the dynamic duo of the twins at the very end, triaging Daemon and prescribing immediate cuddles and a lullaby. Rhaegar is more accustomed to a despairing, inconsolable parent, so he's able to take the lead here. He's also uninjured, so he can be a little more acrobatic than poor Jon.

Quick hitters:

We get a softer, older version of the cut HOTD scene where Daemon tries to convince Viserys to fly off with him on adventures/conquest. Daemon these days just longs for connection with his brother, so it's the Giant's Toe he offers instead as a refuge, with its childhood memories.

Jon is SO GRUMPY that Daemon left them with two Kingsguard to prevent escape. And the Cargyll brothers, no less, who are the most vigilant to shenanigans!

Another runner-up fave line(s) that made me chortle writing them: "Tiresome could mean many things. Merely contemplating Lord Reyne’s existence, much less interacting with him, was tiresome."

It's clear that Daemon's more than a little entranced even before the candle lights up, which is similar to how Rhaegar can get when he's "hearing" it.

This little gut-punch from @cloud-harasser's ao3 comment: "I also love how Daemon carries a piece of Aemon with himself always and feels him everyday in a way when he does his braids. I bet seeing Daemon on Caraxes with his braided hair haunts Rhaenys when the light is just right."

The death that Daemon is least affected by is Baelon's, which is mostly because he was there for it, and it was slow and drawn-out. He had time to prepare and even make his peace with it. He never got that closure with Aemon.

Aemon promising to help Daemon find a dragon when he returned. Only his body came back, and Daemon got Caraxes, so he did fulfill his promise in a way that Daemon never would have wanted.

Daemon's best internal sense of the vision is that he died early, some possible rebellion rose that resulted in Jon's exile and Rhaegar later fighting in it. Their dragons were either taken from them or lost early.

If the twins were overprotective of Daemon before, we are about to see them take it to new heights...

[weaveandwood]

Writing Prompt - Gale hosts a camp cookout! Everyone has to bring something to the party. Ora gets very flustered watching him cooking, and one thing leads to another...

Anything for you my love! I wanted to have this done closer to the holiday on Monday but here we are.

NSFW Words: 1982 CN: Oral Sex Watching Gale cook was one of Ora’s favorite pastimes. The sharp focus he got when he was doing something he loved was so attractive. From the very beginning of their journey together she had found her eye drawn to him, but especially so when he was cooking - something about the way his forearm muscles flexed, the furrow of his brows, the precision in his cuts. Someone that exacting with food would surely be as exacting in other areas of their lives, a fact Ora found out first hand almost a tenday ago, when he confessed he loved her and proved his diligence to her pleasure almost every day since. His attention to detail, whether it was spell casting, cooking, or remembering the exact amount of freckles that were sprinkled across her hipbone was one of the traits about Gale she loved the most. 

Now, with Ketheric Thorm out of the picture and Gale very obviously not blown up, he had suggested a celebration dinner where everyone would bring their own dish to the courtyard at the Last Light Inn and contribute to the meal before the party left on the road to Baldur’s Gate with the sunrise the next morning. Not one to relinquish complete control of the meal, he offered to cook the main dish, and claimed his usual prep spot in their campsite, leaving the others to find somewhere else to work on their contributions. Auroria walked up to Gale holding a loaf of bread that she managed to talk Jaheira out of.

“The best hunter in our party shows up with a loaf of bread?” He teased. “No matter, it will go perfectly with what I have planned,” he smiled and kissed her cheek as she pulled over a stool to keep him company while he cooked.

“I’ll have you know it took plenty of effort to get Jaheira to give up this loaf of bread. I’m positive the only reason she did was because we took out Ketheric. She also gave me this,” she smiled as she held up a bottle of wine, one of the better bottles housed in the basement of the Last Light Inn.

“Another thank you gift?” Gale asked, taking the bottle and looking at the label. “I’ve had this before, this is an excellent wine. Almost too good to be enjoyed at a party, better to be shared in more intimate surrounds,” he lowered his voice and winked - winked! -  as he put the bottle under the table, obvious in his intention to take it back to his tent to drink alone with Ora later that night. After they finished whatever battle, scouting mission, or strategy session they had for the day, she loved spending wine-drunk evenings with him while he read to her, his warm voice making even the most academic of passages sound downright sinful, often leading to other sinful acts before the night was over.

As he resumed his culinary work, the rhythmic sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board took Auroria back to the thumping of the bed against the wall the previous night, when the two of them managed to secure one of the rare private quarters at the inn - the first thank you gift from Jaheira after defeating Ketheric and restoring Reithwin, breaking the Shadow Curse. After so many nights spent together in bedrolls on the hard ground, sharing a bed, a real bed, was revelatory. They had chased their first releases that night quickly, desperately, a confirmation of their survival, of defying the gods. A fire burned within her as she watched his elegant hands curve around the knife handle much in the same way they curved around the back of her neck whenever he kissed her deeply. 

Why did he have to push his sleeves up like that? It was maddening how she couldn’t draw her gaze away from them or the tendons working in his hands as he grabbed a tomato. The way his hair fell forward into his face as he leaned over, slicing it - each slice precisely the same thickness. The way he bit his lip as he looked for the next ingredient needed. Was she standing too close to the fire? It was suddenly very hot in this area of the camp. 

“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?” He asked, catching her staring at him. 

“Nothing appropriate,” she smiled. “Have you ever been told just how attractive you are when you cook?” 

He chuckled, slicing an onion now. “Well, considering how my last relationship before you was with a goddess who didn’t require food, and then I was a hermit for over a year…no, no one has ever told me that.” 

She stood up, brushing a strand of hair out of his face before leaning in to whisper into his ear. “Well, let me be the one to tell you that every time I watch you cook, I want to peel all your clothes off right then and there and give you as much attention as you give these vegetables.” She planted a kiss on his neck, knowing it drove him wild, confirmation coming in the form of a low groan. “And since we are the only two people in the camp right now, we should take advantage of it,” she said as she nipped his earlobe. 

He set the knife down, kissing her. “As much as I want to take you to my tent and give you every attention, there’s still some prep to do before we are supposed to reconvene at the Last Light Inn, my love. I promise to leave you doubly satisfied before you sleep tonight.” 

“You always do, and I will hold you to that,” she laughed. “But I said I wanted to give you all the attention, remember?” She kissed him again and pressed her body against his, feeling his growing desire for her. She reached between them, her hand rubbing his growing erection through his pants. 

He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding against hers. She felt him gasp against her as she reached inside his waistband, under his undergarments and felt him, growing harder as her fingertips brushed over him. 

He broke the kiss and looked at her, a hint of nervousness on his face. “Out here, Ora? What if someone comes back to camp?” 

She kissed his neck again, smiling against it. “You are Gale of Waterdeep, I have utter faith that you would figure something out,” she smiled as she unbuttoned the front of his pants and loosened the laces on his briefs, enough to keep him covered but grant his hardness enough freedom for her to wrap her hand around it. His sharp intake of breath encouraged her and she started slowly stroking him, feeling him grow even harder in her hand. “I would have you right here, but I know you value privacy, and your tent is just over there,” she whispered. “Maybe you can take just a short break?”

“Gods, Ora, you will be the death of me. But I will die a happy man.” He kissed her and took her hand, putting aside his current duty and leading her to his tent, lowering the flap behind them. 

He put his hands on her hips and kissed her deeply. Her hands wrapped around his back, pulling them closer together. He reached between them for the bottom of her shirt, his hands running under the hem, against the soft skin of her stomach.

“Take it off,” he whispered. 

Auroria nodded, pulling off her shirt, leaving her in only her bralette, much to Gale’s dismay. When they stole time together at the end of the day she never wore anything under her shirts. He ran his fingers along the edge of the embroidered fabric, dipping just barely inside it to feel the even softer skin of her breast. His other hand drifted down, rubbing her over the fabric of her leggings. A soft moan escaped her lips. 

“Gale, I’m supposed to be giving you the attention, remember?” She laughed, her knees almost buckling from the friction between her legs and the way he was looking at her, a man starving. Like he hadn’t feasted from her the night previous, like they hadn’t spent the morning in each others arms, bringing each other into relaxed bliss as the sun rose. She reached between them, unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. Gods, she thought, admiring his chest, running her hands over it. 

“You’re so perfect,” she whispered, kissing down his neck, over the orb marking, down his chest. “Now, take off your pants, my love.” She smiled as he gladly acquiesced, standing naked before her as she lowered herself onto her knees in front of him. She looked up at him as she wrapped her hand around him again, hearing him gasp as she stroked, his fingertips resting on her shoulders for balance. 

“Let me touch you,” he whispered. It was still difficult for him to accept receiving pleasure with no expectation of anything in return, no matter how many times she told him she enjoyed it as much as he did. She looked up at him, making eye contact as she flattened her tongue, licking the length of his hardness before taking just the tip in her mouth. 

She thought he might fall over. His eyes darkened with lust and he moaned loudly. His hands went to her hair, tangling in it as she took him farther into his mouth, sucking softly. One of her hands traced up his thigh, feeling the muscles underneath his gorgeous skin before settling on his hip. 

“That feels so good,” he said, watching her intently, his hips starting to rock in tandem with her hand and mouth, making her take him deeper. She hummed against him, loving the feeling of him against her tongue. She stroked him from base to tip, her mouth following, drawing new and louder sounds out of him. She was suddenly glad they were the only ones at camp - she loved when he let himself get lost in pleasure. His hips rocked faster, urging her to suck harder, faster, deeper. His hands were on her head, guiding her as he set the pace. 

She could feel his body stiffen, his breathing become more labored as he neared the edge of his release. She moaned against him, looking up and catching his eyes as the vibrations went through him. He looked down at her. He looked so undone, she had such power over him in this moment. 

“I’m going to…I’m almost…” he whispered. He maintained eye contact with her as he gave two more quick thrusts with his hips, crying out loudly as waves of pleasure washed over him, sending him over the edge. Auroria felt him pulse and throb in her mouth as his release coated her tongue before she swallowed it. 

“Gods, I love you,” he said, smiling as he reached down and stroked her face before helping her stand up.

She kissed him deeply. “I love you too. Thanks for letting me distract you for a moment,” she smiled as he pressed his forehead against hers. “We should probably get back out there and finish up. I’ll even help.”

“Ora, I’m not sure that’s the boon you think it is,” he laughed, remembering the last time she helped him unsuccessfully. 

She smiled and narrowed her eyes at him. “Get your clothes on wizard, and I’ll see you at the inn, then. And don’t think I won’t hold you to your promise of making sure I’m doubly satisfied tonight!” She laughed as she walked out of the tent. 

He smiled and shook his head as he reached for his discarded clothes. Gods, he was glad he didn’t blow himself up.

[briaberri]

Secret lovely sanctuary

Long ruminated on a head cannon that Azriel has grown a bathroom greenhouse in his spartan, private loft apartment of Velaris. Azriel is a studious perfectionist (poor kid), who wouldn't indulge except in the most exceptional circumstances. The vulnerability of that act is something he would keep deeply private -- even in his own space.

I imagine Azriel's apartment is a utilitarian, clean, but lonely place of monochromatic greys and blacks (and the occasional blue, hand woven blanket hidden in a trunk -- momma's don't let their babies go without:). In this stark space, w he has two bathrooms: one for rare guests (just his brothers), and another behind his closed double doored suite where no one is allowed. There's no mirror in his private bathroom, but there is a large window and skylight. He doesn't need to look at himself, alone. He cannot abide a home without abundant natural light.

Every surface and wall is loaded with houseplants he's learned to cultivate as a secret sanctuary where he feels closer to Elain. He started with just one, a maidenhair fern, to understand her passion and learn more about who she is. It began as curiosity of this new, overlookable member of their family, this new friend. It grew to wonder -- and then swelled to a fascinating, unrestricted refuge where he imagines her presence everywhere. (Did Elain cast a spell on him that began with absence and desire? Certainly <3 #deborahharknessshoutout)

In this one space of his life, he doesn't have to reserve himself, or mask his wishes. This lush, bright bathroom becomes a secret, lovely sanctuary where his desire to nurture can explore without eyes, and he remembers her in every leaf he touches. He's not naturally a green thumb, but he's naturally a studious and meticulous student, so he becomes one of Elain. And plant by plant... the exercise of growing life from his own hands becomes revelatory for possibility.

There in the quiet, moist air, away from any eyes or knowledge, he studies, and practices everything she explains as they kneel in the gardens where she works. Elain, of course, notices the specificity of his questions. She will, of course, be the only person who ever sees what he's created. And of course when she does... <3

[inventors-fair]

Common-Typal Commentary: Matter over Mind

What did I want with this contest, really? Flavorful purpose. Communication of niche. Some weird stuff. I don't actually know what I wanted; perhaps there's this inner frustration that came out with how Bloomburrow drafts were treating me, and I wanted to express a world where typal didn't matter as heavily, where a world could run on its own merits. As I write this, I'm just finishing a draft of Lost Caverns, where I got some awesome artifact synergies going with splashes from other archetypes in the mix. That felt good! There wasn't the typal wonders, but there were pieces in between that folks used, little bits of revelatory connections. I wish it was easier to do typal. And it's not. On a week where the prompt was "typal that didn't care about typal as a theme," it becomes... Well, let's just say that the mess was justified.

There were some messy things that I want to call attention to, though. Firstly, please read and reread the prompt, because three separate people submitted uncommons. Secondly, when you're designing for common, keep complexity and power level in mind. Thirdly... There is no third point, and maybe that itself is the third point: that sometimes, I can only say what I know, and my communication should meet you halfway. If I ain't getting there, then that ain't nobody else's fault but my own. Simplify, revise, correct, and you know what, point four: your first idea isn't gonna be your best one 99% of the time. Reiterate upon yourself and you'll be taken to the stars.

I've got a few Judge Picks I wanted to point out, as you'll see, but this week was a little light so there might only be a couple. I'll go over everything in post. Speaking of post, here's what we have for commentary, posted below:

@bergdg — Aspect of Ruthlessness

From a Tarkir-oriented perspective, I think the flavor of having snakes add to their ruthless qualities with a bit of poison is pretty reasonable. Flashing it in seems a little...off? Hear me out, because this card's totally fine, but flash-deathtouch is one of those really cool combat tricks that Green's been out of for a while (see the whole Ambush Viper debate-thing that happened some time ago, I forget where/when), and if it's not granting that, then a three-mana +1/+1 feels pretty weak even with the surveil.

Flash as a keyword provides both timing-oriented tricks for responses and proactive EOT additions for turn advantage. The advantage here feels minimal on one side and maximal on the other for snakes. And maybe that answers the prompt just fine, yeah, but I still find myself asking: if I'm not playing snakes, would I play with this card at all? Honestly, no—having some snakes would be fine and having no snakes makes this card pretty dead in the water. Looking at the Step Through example, a double-Unsummon is still decent in a pinch, and the Wizardcycling makes it better just in case. I don't see the "just in case" side of this aura right now.

~

@bowtochris — Necrosis

I think that I can see some of the BTS of this card with "creatures" instead of "creature" there in the first sentence. Regardless... In a set that has incidental Zombies, this card would be totally fine, and a lot of sets and worlds do. Honestly the amount of sets that I remember as having more Zombies than they actually do is fairly high! But you can see how popular they are and how a necromancy/grave-style play system that has incidental zombies could use this as a removal spell with upside for sure. Pretty much the only place that it wouldn't fit the contest would be Innistrad, heh.

With that said, is there anything more to this card than that? Not that it doesn't work, but I feel that the type is kinda indicative of this card's lack of polish. What world is it supposed to be from? What does this flesh-eating disease/condition have to do with the Zombies' hunger contextually? I feel that this card is unfinished in a lot of ways and it's hard to commentate fully on it when there's not much given in that regard.

~

@bread-into-toast — Gift of Wings (JUDGE PICK)

I honestly thought this was a card already and I'm kinda gobsmacked that this name hasn't been used. As far as cards in general go, yeah, we're in a good spot. I see you're still using "enters the battlefield" instead of the shorthand, and lemme tell you, I'll be doing the same thing for a while as well. But all the same, yeah, mounts with evasion add to an aggressive deck and make a target for you. I like how 99% of mounts are of a higher-ish mana value, and so this card being cheap allows for more answers to follow.

Mounts are an interesting one. How many Mounts in a set, would there be mMounts with vehicles, would Mounts be brought back as small batches...? Lots of questions being asked here. But I could tell even by the art that this would be a Theros set before double-checking your prompt, and I'm down for it. If this was before or after a more Mount-heavy set, I could see a few Mounts especially as legendary horses and/or their offspring. Pegasi, too! When they attack, they carry another creature with them. You know what, I'm not gonna lie—I almost wish this had been Horse instead of Mount, but I get why you chose to go this route. There are far more Pegasus creatures on Theros than Horses, and they already have flying. Maybe there are other possibilities, but you know what, this route works just fine. I'll hash out a more comprehensive thought process if you want later.

~

@dimestoretajic — Rockface Staff

This card falls right back into the Bloomburrow trap, I'm afraid. While Bloomburrow's color overlap was a pretty no-brainer design choice, that's really not what this contest was looking for, and as such I don't necessarily know how to judge it. Is the expectation that these creatures wouldn't be major parts in the set? I mean, I could, but what world is this on if not Bloomburrow? I don't want to make any assumptions here. I also don't think that this card was intended to be on different plane than the one where this type-batching has already been precedent.

This is the extent that I can give commentary on this card's application to the contest prompt. As an equipment in general, it's fine, and I get the hybrid cost down there is intended to be an every-color-but-best-here suggestion. But that's as far as I can go. There's just no way to interpret the typing otherwise.

~

@grornt — Smothering Spores (JUDGE PICK)

There were only about ten cards in Dominaria that cared about Saprolings, and that was quite an archetype, but my personal first introduction to them was in the Alara block, where only six cards across the whole block produced them—and looking back at DMU, there were only two. So how many Saprolings does it take to screw in a good draft common? Honestly, I'd say if there were...4-5 across a set, then this card could go from just plain decent to really funny really fast.

Saprolings are meant to be as expendable as they are delicious, and while regulating a token subtype to a cheeky one-off is a little questionable, I'm down for this being a good enough card. It's totally okay to have a derived card like this get a flavorful little twist, right? Depending on the sacrifice archetype (hint: probably B/G), you could have instances where you lean more into black, or you could have an overlap where there's enchantments on one side and Saprolings on the other, right? Maybe if there was a random rare that pumped out uncommons... But that's just extra brainstorming, because the thought of a fungal infection being made deadly via Saproling is good enough for me. Solid and thoughtful.

~

@izzet-always-r-versus-u — Lights in the Sky

I'm so sorry that I didn't get a chance to message you beforehand and remind you that this is a common contest. I'll read this card on its merits, but you're not the only one to submit an uncommon at first, so hey, that's all good.

The other thing is that I may just not be the right audience for this card as it stands. The only Aliens we've had so far are the ones from Unfinity and the Doctor Who—will there be any in the Death Race set? I forget. Anyway, there's currently no metric for what that might look like in an in-universe set, and the implications are...very sci-fi in a way that I can't critique in good faith. The card is fine, the mechanics are fine, and it could be a real painful beater in limited. You might want to put "this permanent" instead of "this enchantment," but I'm not sure. I'll be honest, comrade, I got nothin'. If MTG has a single sci-fi hater among them, it's me on top of this hill, dying from an alien death ray. We'll shoot for the stars next time.

~

@lich-of-the-golgari — A Good Boy's Rest

Let's back up for a second and talk about what this card is doing. From a purely flavorful perspective, this card makes sense. Pragmatically, it's asking for Shrines at common, perhaps additional shrines, legendary enchantments at common, and a new kind of role token, and a multicolor theme at common as well, and on an ambiguous world. Do you see where I might have some issues with this card design-wise?

Time and time again, I want to tell folks that unless we're asking for out-of-this-world weirdness, you don't have to reinvent the wheel for these contests. Most of the time, it's detrimental to good design sense. This prompt in particular is looking for starting keystones and the base beginnings for some designs that would suggest small pieces of an overarching set in a way that aren't main themes. In my opinion, this card goes against pretty much every one of those notions. Simplify, simplify, simplify. I know it's tempting to stick with an idea that resonates internally, but it's more important to learn when to go back to the drawing board.

~

@melancholia-ennui — Haunted Crypt

It's really, really hard not to see this card as a derivative of Step Through. The only question is whether or not the role it would have in the set would be that of a cycle or that of a one-off. As a one-off, it would be one of the more powerful ones, presumably, if there are any half-decent Spirits in this set at all. Never underestimate the power of landcycling. The reason that Step Through could be at common is because it's a steepish cost for a half-decent effect, and the discarding (even with no Wizard) was part of the possible pieced-together archetypes. What would the archetypes be here?

This card highly suggests something to do with discarding or BW graveyard shenanigans, but also with the typal component; a reasonable player would assume that this draft archetype would be a BW spirit typal shell. Do you see what I mean? It's hard to get away from that specifically because it's a land. Now, if there was a typal archetype, then this card would be bananas, and I think that it's certainly well-designed as it is. For this contest, it's a little too specific for what we were looking for. I'll still commend the general chops, even if, like I said, it's a bit on-the-nose given our examples.

~

@piccadilly-blue — Sonorous Hum

NB: "Deck is 22 cards, all major arcana, not magic cards (in the same way that a d20 is not a magic card), no rules text. // You choose whether or not you run a tarot deck as the game begins. If you don't, you ignore all instructions relating to the tarot deck. // If you're using a tarot deck, after all mulligans have been taken, you shuffle your tarot deck and then the top three cards are turned face-up as your spread."

When you submit a card like this, not only are you asking us to evaluate the card in its relation to the contest, but also evaluating a new mechanic with a series of highly complex rules interactions. And you're also asking us to evaluate a deck with card that each would have a series of as-of-yet unknown rules interactions that have not, to our knowledge, been designed or submitted. So with that said? I can't evaluate this card. I literally, actually cannot, because it's asking knowledge of me that doesn't exist.

I want to love it, of course, and not in the way that I want to love all submissions. I want to be able to love what you've done. I do not have the means or the tools to give you the feedback I want to give in this position, and that's because of the choices you've made by submitting this kind of card. There's nothing wrong with going off the beaten path, but in order for us to judge properly, we gotta use the tools of the collective. I don't have those tools at the moment and I don't really have the time/energy that this idea would both require and deserve. One of my partners does love him some tarot, so just imagine we're giving this a thumbs-up in an alternate universe.

~

@wildcardgamez — Tuskeran Axe (JUDGE PICK)

Berserker is a heavily underutilized creature type, in my opinion. On Kaldheim, there were all those zombie berserker thingies, IIRC, but also a few in the general BR shell. Still, what if you wanted warrior/equipment blends, or you wanted a Giant Berserker to go out there? This card, upon reflection, is a sheepish reminder for me of how I should've made this contest out to be. I'm writing this before I get to the grand reflection, but seeing this card as a unique and funky draft-archetype hybrid is certainly interesting on a design scale, but it's not exactly "weird." It's good! Don't get me wrong, it's quite good.

Was I looking for that weirdness more so than cohesion? It's possible. World flavor is a strange thing. Sometimes, everyone is a berserker. Sometimes the colorless-ness matters, especially for equipment, like that artificer example from earlier. Actually, what I like about this card is that it assumes you're playing red if you're playing berserkers, but if you manage a mono-black berserker deck or whatever, then you're just getting some cool color advantages. I dunno, this card's pushing all the right buttons for me. Am I just jaded with myself, or is this closer to the prompt than I imagined? This is good self-reflection but probably not the best critique. Well, you've already got a seal of approval, so I'll axe the rest of this before I start rambling even more.

~

@xenobladexfan — Death's Finality

When making this prompt, I feel that there was more of a typal-payoff kinda vibe than a draft-answer kinda vibe. As we have it here, Thraben Exorcism is already a card that exists, and this card more or less goes a little farther than that. I want to say that there's nothing wrong with that—and in a vacuum, there isn't. But when there's already such a specific card, and when that card itself wouldn't be what the prompt is after, it makes this kind of judgment a little more difficult than it would be otherwise.

Whether or not you saw Thraben Exorcism before this, well, I have no idea. Exiling zombies and cards from graveyards is also a little beyond the initial scope, so there's that. The similarity is just too much for me to buckle down and say that this card stands on its own merits. If nothing else, though, I hope that this is some kind of learning experience. One, it's a good idea to double-check your cards to see if some maniac at WotC has printed the effect before. Two, feel free to lean into the more proactive side of payoffs rather than answers; answers come to the board when they need to. Right now is the time for asking questions.

Tomorrow's another day. Be well! @abelzumi

[agentrouka-blog]

One of the things that drives me crazy in regard to Rhaegar apologia is that a lot of them use the fact that no Martell has directly blamed Rhaegar in the text for what happened as proof they don't blame him and it's absolutely mind boggling how dumb this is. First of all, Rhaegar has been dead for close to two decades, whereas the Baratheons and Lannisters are still very much alive so obviously the Martells' wrath will be directed towards them. Second of all, we barely have Martell POVs and POVs are not some omniscient, all-knowing insight into every character's opinion on all of the 456732 characters that have been introduced across five books. The lack of indictment re Rhaegar does not mean they don't blame him. Also, GRRM is not the kind of writer that is going to spell something as obvious as this out in crayon. If you need the author to directly tell you that Doran and Oberyn would be apoplectic at Rhaegar's actions toward their sister, maybe this is not the series for you. These are the same people that say, 'Well, we never got E's reaction to L being crowned at the tourney so we can't know if she was offended....' Like, these people really need the narrative to explicitly state that E was humiliated because her husband crowned another woman at a public tourney in front of nobles from across the 7K. I just.....these people are Not Very Bright and appear incapable of connecting even the most simplest dots. There are certain things that do not need to be and will never be spelled out because GRRM assumes his readers have at minimum a high schooler's level of reading comprehension and media literacy but here we are lmao.

Ned never thought much about Aerys either, the guy who murdered his brother and father. Are we to surmise he didn't terribly mind?

GRRM waited until book #3 to create a dramatic and righteous confrontation with the crime perpetrated against Elia and her children, even though the bare facts have been with us since the beginning. He waited until book #4 to introduce the Dornish perspective and vengeance plan in actual POVs, and until book #5 to introduce Elia's surviving son. Dorne, Elia, Aegon - it is a long game.

It slots well into his use of the POV trap with Dany and the comparatively slow dismantling of any positive patina on the Targaryen dynasty. We don't get a proper face on the horror of it until Jaime's confession in the baths of Harrenhal in ASOS. Maester Aemon was practically presented as a saint up until AFFC where he suddenly revealed himself to be a prophecy truther who had been corresponding with Rhaegar about exactly when he tried to impregnate Elia with his comet-fuelled wonder sperm - all this time, without telling anyone in the Watch about this supposedly fundamental savior concept. Dany's veneer of good intentions is falling apart for anyone paying attention.

Questions the reader could have asked from the very beginning, because the facts were always on the page, are being fleshed out and dragged to the forefront in the latter stages of the book series.

Considering Jon Connington and Aegon - son of Elia and Rhaegar - are about to collide with the Dornish plotline, the question of the Tourney at Harrenhal and Rhaegar's character is going to be much less subtly handled from this point on.

There are going to be a whole lot of revelatory collisions in TWOW.

[palmviolet]

what's the origine of your name here (palmviolet)????

ahaha funny you should ask this, i was just talking about this with @television-bodies yesterday. it's been my go-to username for years and years now, i think maybe originating with my moshi monsters account when i was something like 10. but in essence there's nothing deep about it, i just really liked parmaviolets (the sweets) but at the tender age of 10 did not know how to spell the name. also always been a palm tree fan, so there's that i guess. i'm afraid it's nothing more revelatory than that!

[over-hills]

Rune No. 1: Form Familiar Summon a familiar from the depths of your heart. Creatures are formed wherever life force is found. This spell allows a wizard to form a creature from the life force within his own heart - a creature which then becomes his familiar. Be at peace with yourself prior to casting this spell as the result is invariably self-revelatory. A familiar thus formed is a manifestation of your heart and soul.

[nostalgic-breton-girl]

Character who pretends to be a powerful mage, but actually only uses potions.

‘The new Archmagister,’ exclaimed Nirya, in too loud a whisper, ‘is a perfect fraud.’

And she, – who had spent all of the last three days at the door to the top quarters; and some of the night listening a little licentiously at the keyhole, – ought to know; or else ought to be able to spin a convincing lie about it. Her contemporaries gathered about her, would always feign being fed up with her stories; but nevertheless, fearing that one day her gossip would be valuable, they leaned in closer.

‘A fraud!’ cried Tolfdir: ‘that’s a fine accusation. Have you proof?’

Nirya’s hands were so excited, that she sat on them; and said revelatory: 

‘That big cloak they wear is filled to the brim with spell-scrolls. A perfect library in there! They have only to do some hocus-pocus outside, to distract from the using of one; and then, –’

‘Don’t we all defer to spell-scrolls, sometimes?’ said Drevis, ‘when absolutely necessary? There is nothing wrong with, –’

‘I have never used a spell-scroll,’ said Phinis the picture of honesty: and Drevis blushing, bade them all ignore him. 

‘Really I thought the coat was for the cold,’ said Tolfdir: ‘they after all, are not used to the weather up here. And Savos used to have a heavy sort of coat, –’

‘Maybe Savos was a fraud too,’ said Nirya quite cutting: to general displeasure and muttering all about her. ‘Anyway there’s room for potions in there, too, – lots of potions. Have you seen their quarters? They’re growing glowing mushrooms all up a log in the centre. For potions to fortify destruction, you see.’

‘This is all a conspiracy,’ said Faralda at once: ‘you haven’t any real proof, and you know it.’

‘Well!’ said she: ‘the Psijics put them in charge, didn’t they? Because now they’re in charge. The new Arch-Mage doesn’t know anything about magic. They’ll defer to the Order. And so will we have to, –’

‘Conspiracy!’ cried Faralda again. 

‘I am not sure,’ Tolfdir intervened, ‘that we can judge the Arch-Mage not to be a mage.’

‘They’re just an Arch,’ protested Nirya, ‘an Arch-nothing.’

‘The new Arch-Mage,’ Tolfdir went on, ‘is after all the Dragonborn. Who possesses greater power than any of us. Which is saying something, –’

‘Which is saying nothing,’ said Nirya, ‘they never had to learn, nor study; they do not know how magic works; they just speak some word they learnt somewhere, and things happen beyond their understanding; it may be thrice as powerful as a spell-scroll, but it’s as good as a spell-scroll nonetheless. The Arch-Mage, – the Dragonborn, – it’s fraud, it’s all fraud!’

‘Nirya,’ said Faralda tongue sharp, ‘remind me again what your research-project is about.’

Nirya stood up so suddenly, that she knocked over her stool; and in stooping to rescue it, hid a rising pallor. For a moment it seemed that she might slap Faralda; but in the presence of the others, a smack of a glare must suffice. In this angular sort of mood she appeared too thin for her robes. The more observant among them, noticed a hand slip within; some quiet clanking; then retreat, when at last, subdued, she managed:

‘You would not understand it!’

before disappearing, – quite as if by magic.

[raccoonfallsharder]

yo. wsp. sooooo i been writing some thoughts lately and i need help with something

HOW THE FUCK DO I WRITE GOOD SMUT? like i tried once and it was fucking BAD lollll. i seriously need help and you're the only person i can actually ask because you. are literally. the best at that. so pleassse send help

bb i love you and you are a sweet little raspberry pastry. i am so flattered to be asked something like this. i don’t know if i am the best but i do think any success i have is from learning from the best! im not great with advice but here are some things i believe have helped me.

the most important thing i can tell you is this: WRITE “BAD” SMUT! who cares? no-one has to see it?? write bad smut, and then write more bad smut, then go back and reread your og bad smut and decide what you would change so you enjoy reading it just a little bit more. then write some more bad smut. the first time you ever wrote a sentence, was it an ivory tower example of academically flawless grammar, punctuation, and spelling? was it an evocative and award-winning piece of revelatory poetry inspiring massive social change on a global scale? no way. you probably didn’t even have all your letters facing the right direction. WRITE BAD SMUT OR YOU’LL NEVER WRITE GOOD SMUT.

also write bad smut because it’s fun honestly and who cares how good it is?

next most important piece of advice: i think you gotta start by asking yourself what you like best when you’re reading smut. nono wait back up. first you gotta read A LOT of smut. no, more. however much you’re thinking, probably more. then you gotta figure out what your favorite parts are and why.

now. on a more individual note. every author’s smut is different and personal because everything author’s writing is different and personal and smut is in some ways even more personal, right? (don’t stop making plums) so what you’re writing will always look different. but here are some things that have worked for me and maybe they can provide a good space for you to start exploring how you want your smut to look. (warning for late-night first-draft rambling ahead)

for me, there are two parts to what makes smut satisfying (again, this is personal preference).

the first is when the smut is very rooted in an emotional core — specifically, the characters and their motivations. what does each character want? if it’s only an orgasm, why is it only an orgasm? if it’s more than an orgasm, what is it and why? and what does that look like?

sunshine-reader in sunshine wants a playful one-night stand but is incapable of not offering warmth. rocket in the same narrative wants connection because he’s rocket and never feels connected enough. their connection is warm and open because (they think) it’s low-risk and short-lived.

pearl-reader in wyndham/cicatrix wants to exercise autonomy for once in her damn life. rocket/“the monster” in wyndham/cicatrix wants revenge-sex. both of these two are grappling with their own versions of grief and that shows through in their motivations too (at least id like to think so).

in window, sex between jo and rocket looks different when it’s their first time versus when rocket’s trying to coerce her into taking up more space versus when jo is spiraling as they head back to terra, because the goals and motivations are always different.

knowing your characters’ motivations for sex, the way they’re trying to communicate with each other, and their outside-the-bedroom neuroses can also help make sense of kinks, too. in my imagination, rocket always has control issues (especially mcu rocket tbh) because of his historical lack of control and what it means for him to be under someone else’s power. (but i also see him with a complicated/conflicted praise kink a la adorations because he wants to believe nice things about himself while also not believing them, or not believing compliments are genuine).

all of the above is the philosophical part of smut — the emotional core that makes smut more satisfying for me personally as a reader. after that, we get into the technical writing-shit. i think, much like actual sex, the pay-off is better if you savor the journey. so at least for me, that means writing beyond just pinched nips, grinding, penetration. it means taking time to explore the way it feels to be touched in even the mundane parts of our bodies: different textures, pressures, etc.

for example, a claw prickling over the inner flesh of the forearm is not explicitly sexual but. i mean. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ or is it. you know?

another thing for me is to focus on detail. when our senses are overwhelmed we tend to focus on very specific details: the light coming through the window, the stroke of the back of the knuckles on your shoulder, the scent of the pillow. you could say “then she reached orgasm” or you could say “she squeezed her eyes tight. the crackle of electricity in her abdomen snapped taut, and then broke apart in a shower of sparks.” you could say someone was spanked, or you could say there was a crack in the air, and a stinging heat bloomed on their asscheek. don’t just say what happened — say what it felt like, what it looked like, what it smelled and sounded and tasted like. (i mean sometimes you gotta just say what happened or the scene can get too dense…but overall, i opt for relying on sensory description over exposition).

the rest imo is window dressing. are there certain phrases or words you particularly like to read or hear? are you someone who loves or hates the word “pussy” or “dick”? would you rather avoid explicit terms all together, or use them often? or sporadically, for impact?

anyway. like i said these are just my initial late-night first-draft thoughts so they might be rough and they ARE just things that have helped ME (everyone has different thoughts/ideas on this!) but i hope maybe this is a helpful place to start??? also if any of this did not make sense i apologize i am sleepy just lmk and i am happy to expand/clarify

also you are a precious little cherry tart, a springtime crocus, and i love you. please write more smut and allow yourself the freedom of enjoying it. ♡♡♡

[once-upon-a-wish]

I'm A Star

Many of the lyrics in this were taken from @annymation's rewrite

(Lyrics in yellow are sung by Orion)

(Lyrics in purple are sung by Asha)

(Lyrics in italics are sung by Valentino)

Have you ever wondered why you look up at the sky for answers?

Or blow dandelions in the wind, asking them to better your chances

Why throw a coin down a well, while knowing it's no spell

What's passed down generationally

To you

And to me

And why our eyes all look like microscopic galaxies?

Have you ever wondered why you look up at the sky for answers?

Well, you don't have to look too hard

To find that spark inside your heart

If you're try'na figure out just who you are

Don't look far

In the sky, and your front yard

In your heart and in your scars

If you really wanna know just who you are

You're a star

(Spoken) Can't you just grant my wish for me?

(Spoken) That's not how this works, see?

Cause while Stella brings the magic intervention

Only you can reach your destination

See everyone has a spark deep down inside

It's why we're here, you know, to be your guide

So even though we can't do all the work for you

You can count on us to make that dream come true

A wish is a dream that comes from your heart

See, we’ve dropped in just to do our part

It may not always go the way you first planned

But I'm sure that by now you already understand:

My wish… depends on me?

EXACTLY!

Well, you don't have to look too hard

It's all around and not too far

If you're try'na figure out just who you are

You're a star!

Do you know you're a work of art?

Even in the deepest dark

If you really wanna know just who you are

I'm a star!

Here's a fun little allegory

That's been told since prehistory

You've got so much to explore

We all have got to write our own story

Don't stick to one category

Go out and find your own glory

Hope this was revelatory

You have got to write your own story

You don't have to look too hard

It's all around and not too far

If you're try'na figure out just who you are

You're a star…

No matter where you end or start

We're all each other's counterparts

If you really wanna know just who you are

I'm a star!

Ooh, I'm a star

Watch out world, here you are!

You know who's lookin' sharp?

Me! I'm a star!

Ooh, you're a star!

Watch out world, here youare!

You know who's lookin' sharp?

You! You're a star!

[mereallycan]

On today's episode of Edvin Ryding is the only one seeing the pearly gates, rewatching yr in the background in Swedish and I catch 10:15 so of course I actually start watching, because of course Edvin Ryding is casting spells, waxing the sweetest poetry with his majestic everything actually, every second is just glorious and sweet, the finest details, the delivery, the physiognomy and physicality, the hold back and let go applied as needed, the tension and flow, the intensity and largesse, the rawness and realness and I'm just taken, so again of course I keep watching because I'm entranced by the deliciousness of it all, and then it's 16:40 and I see something else that makes his acting so very exceptionally special and poignant - it's that he's in the moment and in pocket, and the fact that you could read the energy of where and what would happen in his screen partner's next line before it arrives makes his own ability to be in perfect tune with the moment more pronounced. You couldn't tell from Wille's face or stance or any form whatsoever what the next moment or emotional reaction would be before it arrives, not even a nano second before it happens.

I just hope I'm able to express what I'm saying correctly. When he says he's spoke to his mother and she accepts him, he fully believes that and his entirety is hopeful in that, and just that, like he would if he were saying that for the first time in his life, because he is, because he's Wille who isn't reading off a script or knows what happens next, just Wille who just told his love interest, that his mother who was previously opposed to their relationship, accepts him, and then it pans to the other actor, and the but is not just a but of someone who knows those people, especially Wille and his mother cannot be trusted, it's of someone who is already experiencing the end of the scene. "He's gone through the bullshit with them before, and already had a made up, final ready made answer", maybe, but the delivery is ever so contaminated and burdened with such rigidity, distance, thought and foreknowledge of this particular instance and he has that anticipatory energy of working from the future and bringing that visible separatedness from his character for the most part of his screen time through the series. That's why Edvin's revelatory energy, his nowness and freshness and taking the audience for a ride in all immediacy and introducing us to every second as if it's also all being introduced to him anew in that moment, the element of surpriseness of it all, extremely refreshing and satisfying in every of his performances. One of the many reasons mind you.

Tl-dr I've watched yr many times and it's almost as new as the first time with Edvin Ryding's performances, I almost still get shocked about what is happening with his character, upping his rewatch value through the roof, because Edvin Ryding is masterful at making it so, whereas with others they already carry and usher a disconnected and double (them as a person reading and thinking their lines and course of action for the character) energy with them that you can already tell and perceive, which makes their scenes stale and uneventful. That's why we should give Edvin multiple EGOT because he is the G.O.A.T

[bite-the-bloody-hand]

10, 12, 13 for Zell!

@dujour13 thank you so much for your patience! These were VERY fun to noodle on <3

For the Pathfinder Knight Commander Game Mechanics and Story Ask game

10. How does their ancestry (race) play into their class and mythic path - do they overlap, or what dynamic is created from that combination?

Listen I'm gonna be real with you here. I was going for the most Early 2000s Hot Topic Goth on Deviantart OC I could get with him. Initially I was going to go Aasimar (Musetouched) because up til recently I've always played him as an Aasimar. Primarily because I'm a sucker for wings and exploring the dichotomy between atheism and holy ancestry. But then I saw that Vampire King ancestry and was like. What if I could make his life so much worse? And friends, it was revelatory. (And I'd just shown my fiancé Vampire Hunter D Bloodlust for the first time. I think it was a sign.)

The dynamic that comes from him being a Dhampir and a Celestial/Arcane bloodrager is one of desperately trying to find equilibrium. His celestial and undead heritage are at war inside him both physically (SO much chronic pain) and psychologically (SO much emotional damage from warring expectations) and barely held together by the arcane magic he persues (SO many dysfunctional coping mechanisms) that eschewing them all to walk the Azata path was all he could do to - in his mind - truly have a grasp on his own life.

Personally I like to read the Act 4 into Act 5 Mythic Path decision as a literal death and rebirth for Zell, thus resolving his strongest ambition.

12. How does their mythic path synergize with their personality - does it augment it, or is it in contrast? Something in-between?

Zell didn't truly realize he could walk the Azata path until he met Arueshalae. Before that moment in Drezen he was sure that he'd be caught between his rage and the pull of heaven… but Arue saw something else in him he'd secretly been afraid to consider, because he was so sure the path would be barred from him.

Embracing the path and becoming an Azata is enormously healing for him. He finds community among other outsiders and rebels, A DRAGON BESTIE, connection to the land he's come to live in, and overal just renewed vigor. The more he embraces the Azata path the more like his real self he becomes: vivacious, kind, silly, and genuinely joyful. His sharp edges soften; he becomes a little less ruthless and a little more understanding, both towards himself and others. It doesn't cure his depression, but it does make it easier to live with.

13. Which mythic abilities/spells would be iconic to them, and was it their preference or did they prefer something less iconic?

The Haste/Arcane rage Blur is his favorite martial spell combo. Especially once he gets his wings? It's giving anime protagonist in a big way (if anime existed in Golarion he would be completely insufferable about this). He's not naturally very quick without magical (and mythical) enhancement - much more of a persistence predator type - so leaning in to the coolness factor of having Azata superpowers, superspeed, and magical dodging prowess is very fun for him.

[burlveneer-music]

Hania Rani - Ghosts - new album on Gondwana Records

Hania Rani announces her new album, Ghosts, bringing her songwriting and beautiful vocals to the fore and featuring special guests Patrick Watson, Ólafur Arnalds and Duncan Bellamy (Portico Quartet). Ghosts is the sound of an ever-evolving artist and, just as the album’s title suggests she passes repeatedly and gracefully between musical worlds: as composer, singer, songwriter, and producer. This album builds on Rani’s earlier successes Esja and Home with an expanded yet still minimal setup of piano, keyboards, synths (most importantly her Prophet) and features more of her mysterious, bewitching voice. Its spirit is warm, beckoning one into an ambitious double album that unfolds at an exquisite pace, informed by her revelatory, exploratory live performances. Ghosts is also an album of collaborations as Rani is joined by Patrick Watson, who breathes unearthly life into the ethereal ‘Dancing with Ghosts’. ‘Whispering House’is written and recorded with her friend, Ólafur Arnalds and casts a peaceful, ineluctable spell; and Portico Quartet’s Duncan Bellamy contributes vital loops to ‘Don’t Break My Heart��� and ‘Thin Line’.

[whitegoldtower]

Creating a new OC because I came up with a concept I really enjoyed.

Since I am sometimes completely non-verbal, myself (and most of the time not speaking very much at all), creating non-verbal characters is comforting for me. Sometimes talking is just too much noise for me to be able to handle vibrating around my skull, y’know?

I’m creating an Altmer vampire with incredibly sensitive hearing. He does not speak because it is much more comfortable for him to remain silent. It’s not out of trauma, not out of injury, merely comfort. There’s no tragic backstory or revelatory reason as to why he doesn’t speak. He simply prefers not to.

He is extremely calm and placid for a vampire. He doesn’t enjoy hurting others. He doesn’t like when people scream - mainly, he consumes potions of blood that he has brewed himself. He hunts deer, rabbits and wolves for his sustenance, and leads a pretty simple life. His special interest is flora, and he usually communicates with others via the language of flowers. This is how he talks. Well. That and a combination of sending pretty handwritten letters for when the message is too complicated. As for when others speak to him, he usually politely requests that they keep their voices to a low level and avoid shouting. If he’s going somewhere busy, he tucks little pieces of tundra cotton in his ears and resorts to lip-reading.

As a result, his fangs are hardly ever on display.

His name is Gwydion, and he’s friendly with Hert and Hern. He visits them for firewood supplies occasionally, and instead of trading in money, he trades in blood potions from each of his hunts, usually accompanied by fresh flowers.

Despite his cool and sometimes distant exterior, he can actually be rather playful. His pranks are always completely harmless; usually little things like putting flower petals in someone’s hair whilst they’re sleeping, or throwing a snowball at someone whilst concealed by an invisibility spell to make the person who got snowballed think it was someone behind them instead.

He once started a snowball fight between two very bored Thalmor sentinels standing guard in the embassy, and confused a Bosmer huntress who woke up with blue mountain flowers in her hair. In the Winking Skeever, he pranked a bard by putting a few extra coins in his pouch over the course of a few days.

He travels all over the map very much like Mai’q the Liar, choosing to spend his immortality having innocent fun.

When in Winterhold, he decides to spread a little love at the College. In my canon, he causes Severin and Ancano to actually start speaking to one another via leaving flowers in both of their rooms, confusing them enough that they bond over the odd little experience. (Spoiler; Severin and Ancano end up getting married)

He begins studying there to refresh his memory of alchemy, illusion and alteration magics, and gets himself a cosy little room in the subterrarium beneath the hall of attainment. Savos Aren has heard enough about the Altmer to not consider him a threat, and allows him to stay, given that his main area of research concerns attempting to invent a new way for vampires to feed without causing harm.

He likes his little living quarters in the college; they’re dark, warm and provide enough space for him to cultivate many different kinds of night-blooming flowers as well as ones that bloom during dawn and dusk.

Gwydion, himself, however, takes quite the liking to Brelyna.

He likes to leave flowers in front of her door, tucked into her door handle, and - if she leaves her door open - he will leave them on her desk.

She is initially very confused as to where the flowers keep coming from, but presses them between book pages because they are very pretty and they do smell nice. She just wants to know who keeps giving them to her.

After all, Gwydion is extremely elusive and tends to disappear if he thinks he’s being watched.

Brelyna only figures out it’s him because when he walks past her in the library, the scent of the flowers follows him. She keeps trying to get a good look at his face but he’s a little too skittish for the time being.

(Not my gif. Dunno who made it but it’s v pretty)