#the casual destruction of things people had built simply because it was fascinating

[neverendingford]

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[strangeradventuresofp]

second thoughts (legolas x reader)

The Fellowship of the Ring - Part 1

masterlist

warnings: none (i think)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

a/n : so after writing it for the first time, rewriting it and then rewriting it again lol the first chapter of my canon lotr fic is here. not much legolas x reader interaction in this one, more of just an introduction to the series and the readers relationships etc. i also quickly wanna thank @falcor-thee-luck-dragon​ for being super supportive of this ever since i even mentioned it as an idea ily! im super excited for it and i hope you enjoy it, thanks for reading i love you and i hope you have a wonderful day<3 (also i guess let me know if you want to be added to my taglist)

The journey to Rivendell was purely insufferable. Not only was it due to the time it took nor the saddle sore that you had endured, but to how the time had passed so quickly and yet so painfully slowly at the very same time. You had always loved to travel, but you did not seem to have any time at all to admire the vast amount of sights that appeared before you. In the blink of an eye they were gone, and the views became new for a brief second before they disappeared beyond what you could see. Your eyes were forced to stay focused on the road and the rider ahead of you so that the way would not be lost.

When you arrived at Rivendell, however, all of the annoyance that you had endured throughout the voyage seemed to simply melt away. There were no words for how you felt in that moment when you dropped from your horse, gaping at the infrastructure in complete awe. Always, you had associated elves with inexplicable beauty, but never would you have expected something as incredible as what lay before you. Quick to abandon your guide, you made sure to take your precious time when you strode through the decorative archways, following up the spiral staircase, marveling at everything your eyes could possibly muster.

It had hardly been long when your eyes travelled to seek out shards of a broken blade, sat on a bed of silk, a statue standing tall behind it. The concrete seemed to present it to all who passed. You dared not touch it, though a wave of tempt washed over your senses. The fragments made up Narsil, the blade of King Elendil, the one used by his son, Isildur, to cut the finger that held the One Ring of Sauron the Terrible during the War of the Last Alliance. The legend of the One Ring had faded into less than nothing over the years of its absence, but fear always struck you when you imagined the dreaded return of the Dark Lord. The longsword that lay in front of you belonged to the heir of Isildur, the King of Gondor, Aragorn Son of Arathorn. Your heart forever ached with hope that one day he would return to the White City and that the useless steward that held his place would once again be nothing more than just that.

You had scarcely noticed the figure sitting beside the balustrade until you had felt an uneasy turn in your stomach, signaling that someone was watching you. As you shifted your eyes over to the body in black, they fell upon a man with long, unkempt hair and a scruffy grown-out stubble that covered his face and neck. His arm was casually slung over the handrail, his lips drawn into a perfectly straight line and his eyes were fixed on you. The edge of his lips turned up as your eyes locked.

You blinked. “Aragorn! Forgive me, I was unaware of your presence; I would have come sooner.”

“It is good to see you, Y/N.”

“You, as well, mellon nin.” You clapped him on the shoulder. “I had planned to ride north a little while ago.”

“And I had planned to ride for the White City, until Gandalf called upon me.” Aragorn said, and your mouth turned up into a smile. Your eyes flickered up to the ceiling, once again distracted by the beautiful view.

“It is beautiful here. You are very lucky.” Aragorn gave you a small smile. “For why have I been brought here, Aragorn?”

He took a breath. “You will find out, soon enough. For now, you should rest. Your journey could have hardly been sparing.”

“Oh, alright.” You mused, now engaged with the thought of bed and sleep. He gently shook your shoulder. “Goodnight, Aragorn.”

“Goodnight.” He returned to his previous position; arm hung over the bannister as you ambled off in search of a place where you could find rest.

During your search, your feet treading across smooth slabs, and you came to a halt. There were small folk, talking to one another. They were speaking in the common tongue, and seemed half of your height, though you could not really tell from a distance. Fascinating, you thought. So far, the thought had not even crossed your mind that others might be here, besides yourself, Boromir and Aragorn and Gandalf, of course.

One of them moved toward the other, who was staring out among the balcony. The starrer turned, showed something in the palm of his hand and spoke.

“You’re right, Sam. We did what we set out to do.” He opened his hand and lowered his voice. What he said next could not be distinguished by your faint ears. “I am ready to go home.” He put his hand back into his pocket before it slithered out once again, only this time it was empty.

“And where would home be for you two?” You asked. They turned to look at you.

“The Shire, miss.” One said, the one called Sam.

“Hobbits! In Rivendell! How incredible. How curious.” Kneeling down to get a better look, Sam straightening his vest as the other kept a firm hand on his pocket. You noticed. “Do not fret, hobbit from The Shire. I am not interested in stealing from you. Or anyone else, for that matter. But perhaps a small piece of advice is, make it less obvious that you are carrying something worth taking.” The hobbit with brown, curly hair and bright blue eyes smiled sheepishly. You chuckled, standing. “Go to rest, hobbits. Get ready to go home, to The Shire.”

They bumbled off and a smile spread across your face as you continued the forage for somewhere to sleep.

~~~

The morning came quickly. The night had been comfortable, and you set out early to explore the inhabitancy that you had found yourself entering that day previous. A meeting had been called to finally reveal why your presence had been requested, and now, you sat on a chair in a circle, surrounded by some known faces and many unfamiliar ones. There were elves and dwarves grouped near each other, which would never be a good idea. One of the hobbits from the day before sat beside Gandalf. You were located between Boromir and Aragorn, two of your very good friends. Lord Elrond sat at the head of the circle. He stood once everyone had arrived.

“Strangers of distant lands, friends of old. You have summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it.” Lord Elrond began. He scanned those sat before him. “You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this one fate, this one doom.” He paused, turning to the hobbit. He brought his arm forth, inviting him.

“Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.”

By Elrond’s instruction, Frodo placed a golden ring on the centered table. Boromir muttered something under his breath. Then Frodo turned, and sat back in his seat, looking rather timid. You gave him a small smile before your eyes glued to the table and the item it held upon it. It called to you, whispering things in a language that you could not understand and subconsciously you were sure you did not want to hear what it was saying to you. How did a hobbit from the Shire receive a Ring of Power? What business did he have with it?

“It is a gift.” The voice tore you from your thoughts. Your eyes caught sight of Boromir standing beside you. “A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this ring?” You pursed your lips in disapproval. One who thought of using any of the Rings of Power is a fool.

“Long has my father, the steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay by the blood of our people, while your lands kept safe.” He looked at you, nodding, giving you the notion that you should be encouraging him. But you couldn’t help but think that Boromir sounded rather ill. Your eyes travelled to the floor for a moment before he continued. “Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against Him.”

“Do you know nothing of the Ring?” Your brows furrowed as you spoke, unable to contain your discontent for his words any longer. “It is because of Man’s weakness that the Ring survives. It is not safe in the hands of Men.” You spat unwillingly. You hadn’t expected your words to come off so aggressive. After all, you did not want to hurt Boromir’s feelings, just make him see sense. His eye caught yours and you gave him an apologetic look.

“It does not matter; you cannot wield it. None of us can.” Aragorn said. “The one Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.”

“And what would a ranger know of this matter?”

“Boromir—”

“This is no mere ranger.” Behind Boromir someone stood. It was an elf. Some of his silky hair had been tied back into braids and a velvet cloak smothered his built body. His dark brows drew together as he spoke. “He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.” You studied him with curiosity, narrowed slightly whilst you scanned his presence. His eyes locked with yours for a brief moment before you turned them back to Boromir, who seemed to be staring at your friend in utter disbelief.

“Aragorn? This, is Isildur’s heir?”

“And heir to the throne of Gondor.” The elf finished and you looked at him as a way to avoid Boromir’s gaze. It was true. The White City that Boromir’s father currently ruled deserved to have their rightful King back. You could only hope that one day Aragorn would finally take the throne and restore the faith of Gondor once again.

“Sit down, Legolas.” Aragorn spoke in an elvish tongue. So, this was the infamous Legolas, you thought. Aragorn had spoken a lot of him to you in the past, but you had yet to meet him until this very moment.

“Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no King.” Boromir took his seat beside you, but you still refused to return his eye. Instead, you and the elf shared a look.

“Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.” Gandalf confirmed.

“You have only one choice.” Lord Elrond stood. “The Ring must be destroyed.” Silence fell among the space for a moment, before a dwarf shifted off of his seat, his fingers tightening around the axe beside him.

“What are we waiting for?” He rumbled, swinging his axe over his shoulder to slice the Ring with a roar. His blade ricocheted and shattered. His back became flush to the floor, his eyes wide in shock. You gasped, sitting forward in your seat to rush to help him. But before you could, the other dwarves appeared by his sides, steadying him.

Frodo clutched his chest when the dwarf’s blade collided with the Ring, as if the axe had struck Frodo himself. Pain seemed to radiate through his body. You looked to him, concerned. Gandalf had also noticed the hobbit’s reaction to the attempted destruction of the Ring.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed Gimli, Son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade.” Lord Elrond looked around at the subjects once again. “It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this.”

“One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The great eye,” he made a circle with his hand, “is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this, it is folly.”

“Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed.” Legolas stood, once again challenging your companion. You agreed that the Ring had to be destroyed, there was no doubt about that. Venturing deep into Mordor, however, was an impossible task.

“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it.” Gimli bellowed from his seat, eyes wide with hatred, fixed upon the elf.

“And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?” Boromir stood and you mirrored his actions, gently grabbing his arm, ushering him to calm down.

“I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!” The words of Gimli, son of Gloin, had all of the elves standing in protest which quickly led to the dwarves standing in hostility too. The squabbling continued despite your attempts to calm it down. You took your seat, sharing a defeated sigh with Aragorn. Gandalf stood to try to diffuse the tension.

“I will take it.” A small voice against the yelling caught your attention. Frodo had stood, standing beside the table. You pulled Aragorn’s sleeve to get his attention, your brows furrowed.

“I will take it!” The disputing seemed to die down when he raised his voice and you shook your head gently at him. “I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though… I do not know the way.”

“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins. As long as it is yours to bear.” Gandalf placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Aragorn stood from beside you, marching towards the hobbit, keeling.

“If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword.”

It was no question for you as you stood, kneeling beside Aragorn. “You have my knives.”

“And you have my bow.” Legolas moved towards the hobbit. The three of you moved behind Frodo. You gently rubbed his shoulder, sharing a smile with him when he looked up at you.

“And my axe.” Gimli raised his weapon in the air, joining you.

“You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, Gondor shall see it done.” Boromir gave you a smile and you were quick to return it. A yell echoed from behind, another hobbit running to join Frodo. It was Sam.

“Mister Frodo’s not goin’ anywhere without me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“No, indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not.” A smirk tugged at Elrond’s lips and more shouts were heard from behind. Two more hobbits joined.

“We’re comin’ too! You’ll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us.” One said, slinging his arm around Frodo’s shoulders.

“Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission. Quest. Thing.” The other chimed in, raising his eyebrows. The other turned to him in disbelief.

“Well, that rules you out, Pip.” You giggled quietly at the hobbits, the one in the yellow waistcoat turning to grin at you before Lord Elrond chuckled slightly. His eyes scanned over the group before him.

“Ten companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.”

“Right! Where are we going?” The hobbit in the green coat, Pip, asked. The other, once again, stared at him in disbelief. Gandalf shook his head.

~~~

You were chatting aimlessly with Aragorn by the gates of Rivendell, where you had arrived only a few days previous. The Fellowship were getting ready to leave in the next hours, you had been preparing for days. Now, all that was needed was to get little extra items that could help along the journey.

Aragorn gave a smile to someone behind you and you turned, standing beside him. It was Legolas. You smiled at him and he returned it.

“Forgive me, my Lady, but I am unsure of your name.” He said.

“Y/N. Pleased to finally meet you, my Lord.”

“Legolas Greenleaf.” He corrected. “The pleasure is mine.”

“So, you are the infamous elf that Aragorn has mentioned to me so many times. I had begun to believe Arwen was no longer in his heart and you had taken her place.” Legolas and Aragorn chuckled at your joke. You gave Aragorn a cheeky grin before you caught sight of Boromir. “Please, excuse me.” He made his way toward you as you did the same. When you reached each other, he chuckled, shaking his head.

“You just cannot help yourself, can you?” Boromir said and you giggled. “I am proud of you. It was a brave thing to do.” You threw your arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you for coming along, too. It will be nice to have Aragorn around and, of course, the others who I am yet to know, but I am very glad for your presence.”

“And I for yours.” He chuckled, clapping you gently on the shoulder. You gave him one last tight squeeze before making your way over to the dwarf. You stood silently beside him for a little time, while he mumbled things to himself that you could make out.

“Forgive me for interrupting you, Master Dwarf. I would like to know your name; I do not recall it from the meeting.”

“You’re not interrupting me, lassie. The name is Gimli, Son of Gloin.” Gimli responded, giving you a tight-lipped smile. You returned it with a genuine smile though you worried he was wary of you.

“Pleased to meet you, Gimli, Son of Gloin. I am Y/N.” You responded kindly. Not knowing what else you could say, your feet decided to take you over to the hobbits, one of which you had already met. Sam and the other two hobbits were tending to their respective packs that they would bring on the journey. Frodo was absent.

“There’s a girl?”

“Yes, there’s a girl, Pip. Did you not see?” The other replied.

“Stood beside Strider, she was.” Sam mentioned, earning a nod from the other.

“Are you talking about me, hobbits?” You drew your arms over your chest, one of your eyebrows raised, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“N—No, miss! We were just—”

“Then, what exactly were you talking about?”

They looked between each other. “Merry was speaking about you, miss. Talkin’ of how pretty you were, he was.” Sam admitted and your heart felt warm in your chest. Pip nodded to back up Sam’s claim and a light blush dusted over Merry’s cheeks. You smiled.

“You are very sweet, Merry. If I may call you that.”

“Meriadoc Brandybuck is my full name. But call me Merry if you please.”

“Alright, Merry.” You said softly.

“What’s yours?” Pip questioned.

“Y/N.”

“That’s a nice name.” Sam gushed and you could not help but grin. Who knew that a few hobbits could be so incredibly sweet? You pondered, ruffling their hair gently before you wandered off again, sitting by yourself this time.

~~~

It had been almost a week since the Fellowship had set off from Rivendell and all had agreed that a night stop was definitely needed. You and Aragorn had agreed that you would take the night watch for you did not get much rest even at home. It was not difficult for you to still function without much sleep. Before everyone went off to bed, however, they were shoveling food down their empty stomachs. You sighed, looking at the food spread. You were not particularly hungry though you knew you were going to have to eat something. Sam finished his own food and made sure Frodo completed all of his, plating up another portion and plodding his way over to you. He sheepishly held out the bowl to you, scratching the back of his neck with his spare hand. You gave him a smile, thanking him, taking the bowl before biting into the food. Sam took a seat beside you, making sure you would eat everything.

“You should really be eatin’ everything you can, Y/N. We wouldn’t be wanting you to starve.”

A breathy laugh left your lips. “I’m alright, Sam. You needn’t worry about me.”

“Not worrying, miss. Just making sure you’re alright.”

“Thank you.” Sam shared a smile with you. “And you? Are you alright?” He gave you a nod. You continued to eat until you had finished everything in the bowl. By that time, most of the Fellowship had settled down to get some sleep but Sam was still at your side.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He yawned, treading off to settle beside his master. You wrapped your cloak further around yourself, sitting beside Aragorn. Neither of you spoke for a while, rather just enjoying the other’s presence in a comfortable silence.

You do not remember much of how you and Aragorn had met, only that he had saved your life. He was known to you as Strider back then. There was a creature that attempted to attack you. You knew nothing of combat back then. He slayed the beast and brought you back to Rivendell. Quick friends you had become. Somehow, Lord Elrond arranged for you to be taken to Gondor. It was there that you would grow up. Boromir acted as your father since you had first arrived there. He was protective of you; you were the daughter he had failed to have.

“What are you thinking of, mellon nin?” Aragorn said in a whisper. You took a breath.

“Our friendship. And how I am glad to spend time with you once again before I make my decision.”

“Have you made it?” He queried, turning his head to look at you and you shook your head at him.

“It is not simple, Aragorn. How am I supposed to make a decision that affects the rest of my life and those who will come after me?” Another sigh left your lips and you leaned into Aragorn’s side.

“I could not describe the feeling when Arwen chose what she wanted. My heart ached with many feelings.”

“Arwen has something to choose for,” you mentioned. “Who knows? Perhaps I will meet a lovely fellow, be it man, elf, dwarf, or even, hobbit, and I decide that I want to spend the rest of my life with them. That would sway my decision quite a lot. I could not imagine being shipped off to the Undying Lands while my love stays on Middle-Earth. Nor would I want to wait for them to die and then hop on a boat to live forever. I am unsure, Aragorn.”

“You need not make any decision yet, mellon.” You continued to speak with your close friend throughout the night, whilst keeping close watch on your surroundings. However, what you did not notice was that a third member of the Fellowship was far from sleep and had in fact been listening in on your conversation.

Legolas rolled over, turning away from the two of you, his head against something that acted as a quite poorly pillow. He had not the slightest idea of what you meant, only that for some reason, you could choose to make your way to the Undying Lands. But this was something that man could not do, so why were you able to choose? He did not know. But he wanted to find out. He did not know why but you intrigued him. How friendly yet quiet you were. The timid yet confident way that you carried yourself. The knives that you held on your belt. He had not seen you use them yet, luckily, but he was looking forward to. You were the first woman he had seen since Tauriel who carried weapons. It was not common for a woman to be trained in combat. He pondered where you had learned, and if you were any good at all.

“The night is long, mellon nin. You should rest.” Aragorn suggested.

You let out a chuckle. “And leave you by yourself? You will need me to protect you from any danger. I will not rest.” Aragorn smiled at your words and gave you a nod. Your eyelids became heavy throughout the night, but you refused to give in to the temptation and the snores of Gimli were sure to keep you from any sleep that you could potentially get. Fixing your cloak around yourself for warmth, your eyes continued to search the space around you. Your ears perked up so to hear any sign of movement. You watched your breath exit your mouth and disperse into the crisp air. The moon was bright and tall in the sky. Hoping nothing would come in the night, you sighed and relaxed against the tree that you were sat up against though still keeping a firm hand on your knife belt. Aragorn pulled you into his side and you smiled. Your hand tightened around your belt.

“Goodnight, Aragorn.” You whispered, and you hoped it would be.

[qm-vox]

The Far Realms vs. Obyriths: Cosmic Horror in D&D

Shout-out, once again, to Afroakuma, from whom I learned most of the material I’m about to explain and with whom I’ve had many fascinating discussions about this topic.

It’s ya boi Vox, back at it to complain about RPG shit in an educational fashion again. Remember when I did a whole article about (evil) gods in D&D, arguing that they have more potential than to be used like supervillains? We’re gonna do that again, but this time with incorporating cosmic horror elements into your D&D campaign. Some of this advice may also be useful for games similar to D&D but for the sake of my own sanity I’m gonna confine myself to the one system or I’m gonna be here until my kids are in college.

This article will be broken down into three parts: an overview of cosmic horror’s origin and original thesis (in which we travel my favorite magical land, Full And Complete Context), a breakdown of the Far Realms in D&D (including older takes from late 2e & 3.5, how those changed in 4e, and their ambiguous state in 5e) & how you might use them for a cosmic horror campaign, and a breakdown of Obyriths in D&D and how you might use them in your campaign.

No discussion of cosmic horror is complete without some Content Warnings. Right up front: cosmic horror has its roots in extremely racist fiction, and I’m going to be talking about that straight-up. Also included in this article will be body horror, descriptions of mind control and mental corruption, supernaturally-induced madness, violence, and medical horror, among other things. This is a genre that hit the ‘fuck shit up’ button with its face on fuckin’ Zero Day and does that but again every time we successfully write something in it. Additionally, spoilers for some of Lovecraft’s work will be in here, with absolutely no tags and no warnings before they happen. You have been warned; do as thou wilt.

HP Does A Racism - Origins Of Cosmic Horror

Yeah, I’m about to be like that about it.

In the beginning there was Howard Phillips Lovecraft, an absolute garbage fire of a human being whose personal issues are such a knotted mess that I’m half-sure that the concept of the Ouroboros is just the echo of his bullshit reaching backwards through time. Like many authors of his time, Howie Love here was born into significant wealth, and while his education would be cut short (he had some manner of health problem in high school that ended his attempts at schooling) it was pretty high-quality, as it tends to be when you’re rich and white in the late 1800s. When he began writing his most famous body of work, Lovecraft had three attributes which would shape it: EXTREME racism, an incredible love for the works of Edgar Allen Poe, and every fucking phobia ever turned loose on God’s green Earth.

If you want to know more about that first point, try looking up what he named his cat; Lovecraft was so racist that even other racists thought he was too racist. Mother fucker was so racist that he wrote about the dangers of contaminating one’s bloodline with French-Canadians. His racism made it into all of his works in some way, shape, or form; many had themes of miscegenation, plenty included people of color only as deranged cultists of terrible powers, and as we’ll get into later in this segment the very racism that caused him to do these things also made him write the...let’s say ‘villains’ for lack of a better term, of his ongoing body of work as thinly-veiled stand-ins for white people.

No, really.

Lovecraft’s early work included a few short stories in the American Gothic style, the most famous of which is The Rats in the Walls. It’s a fairly classic story as far as those go, but Howie Love would soon abandon American Gothic for the genre he founded and defined: cosmic horror. Keep the racism and phobias in mind going forward, they’re about to become real important.

Howie Love Clowns On Himself - Themes And Thesis Of Cosmic Horror

While Dagon is generally accepted as the ‘first’ cosmic horror story, I prefer The Colour Out Of Space as the definitive example of the original thesis of cosmic horror at its most clean and clear (it’s also the work of Lovecraft’s that has aged the best; I highly suggest it if you haven’t read it yet!). In it, an alien presence - arguably but not necessarily an entity - crash-lands outside the fictional town of Arkham. Our narrator, a surveyor, coldly investigates the horrors that occur after and learns the sorry tale of a family destroyed by this alien presence as it blights their land, corrupts their bodies, and drives them to madness. The presence leaves, but not wholly; a fragment of itself remains behind, alongside the chilling possibility of a repeat performance.

The Colour Out Of Space, and indeed most of Howie Love’s work, was written at a time in the United States and the United Kingdom where human exceptionalism was the norm. Humans were not merely important, but special, chosen, exalted in nature and placed in a universe whose sole purpose was to be the stage for our domination. The Colour Out Of Space proposed a different idea: that we ain’t shit. Not only is humanity not exalted, but humanity is insignificant, existing at the mercy of fate, able to be casually annihilated at any time by forces we do not understand. It was a shocking proposal when it was published, and though the zeitgeist that gave it power has faded (most people realize we ain’t shit these days, can’t imagine how that fucking happened) it still resonates with many people.

The later works that defined the Cthulu Mythos would build on this theme, introducing powerful beings which claim dominion of Earth or of all reality. You’ve probably heard of most of them - Cthulu is the big one, of course, but there’s also Yog-Sothoth (The Dunwich Horror), Azazoth, Catboi Slim (Nyarthalotep), and many more, not all of which were written by Lovecraft himself. These beings are gods, or else so far above humanity that the difference is academic, and this brings us to the second defining theme of cosmic horror that Lovecraft would lay out, that of forbidden knowledge.

Protagonists in Howie Love’s stories have a tendency to lose their minds. Later authors would chalk this up to the idea that witnessing these gods or their works is so inherently horrifying that the mind simply snaps in their presence, or even that these gods are bound up in the concept of madness (this second one is a rather incompetent reading, not that I’m thinking of any PAIZO in particular that just ran with it in their RPG setting), but Howard’s own work doesn’t always bear that out. The protagonist of Call of Cthulu is not driven mad by that being - he is driven towards the brink by the realization that the Cult is still out there (and coming for his life), and that Cthulu will only rise again. Our viewpoint character in At The Mountains Of Madness realizes he has committed unspeakable atrocities on living beings much like himself by mistake, and that if further explorers come to disturb their slumber they will only repeat the same errors and lead to mankind’s annihilation. It’s not just that these ancient powers are terrifying or even that they are alien, but that to comprehend them is to understand that humans are so far beneath them that their attitude towards us cannot be thought of as ‘benevolent or ‘malevolent’, because we are beneath their notice, lesser in comparison than even a bacterium. In such a context, all humans do is consume resources better used by our superiors, and thus our existence is a profanity upon the divine. The only moral action, the stories argue, is self-annihilation; only ignorance permits us to justify our own existence to ourselves.

Sound familiar? Almost like this is the exact argument chucklefuck racists make about the existence of people of color, Jews, and anyone else they happen to not like? Yeah. This is the part where Lovecraft accidentally made himself the villain of his own work. Congratulations Howie, you played yourself. And since his audience was largely fellow white men also hard up on that whole racism thing, this idea of human profanity tapped a deep well of anxiety. I’m not about to argue that racism is over (it isn’t) and that’s why this vision of cosmic horror is less popular; indeed, it’s retained a pretty solid cult (heh) following, in part because the idea of such beings is inherently kinda terrifying. But I’d be remiss not to bring up the fact that this terror has its roots in racism, so...there you have it.

Other authors also built on the Cthulu Mythos, with Lovecraft’s enthusiastic blessing. These days their works tend to be mistakenly attributed to Howie Love himself, but that’s not actually his fault; they were published on their own, under their own authors’ names, and as far as we can tell Howard never tried to take the credit. These other authors had a tendency to substitute the indifferent divinity and corrupted humans of Lovecraft’s work with direct malice; their vision of these god-like beings was one in which they noticed humanity and did harm to it, creating a movement away from Howie Love’s original thesis (”human insignificance will lead to the unimportant and unmarked event of our destruction” & “seeking knowledge can only lead to self-annihilation”) during his life which only picked up momentum after his death. Indeed, most modern attempts at Lovecraftian horror mimic this overt malevolence, often without even lip service to the original thesis. It’s not necessarily an unworkable angle of horror, and it definitely has bones in with its origins; “God is real and He hates you personally” is a terrifying idea! But this movement away from the cold indifference of stories like The Colour Out Of Space definitely contributed to the current climate of...sloppy adaptations, let’s say.

Not that I’m thinking of any Paizo in particular.

So Should I Use Mythos Content Directly In My D&D Game Or What?

No, because I will cry and tell everyone that you punched my children and kidnapped my girlfriends.

More helpfully, probably not. The presence of other divinities, but especially evil divinities like Erythnul (Greyhawk) or Malar (Forgotten Realms) makes the thematics of cosmic horror pretty fucking weird. If you really wanted to, your best bet is to not use the published system of divinity at all (see the previously-linked article, up at the top of this one) and instead make Lovecraft’s gods the setting’s only gods. That means asking yourself some hard questions about clerics in your game world and possibly divine magic in general - that’s a separate article though - and even then you’re in for a rough row to hoe. D&D’s characters tend to be competent, dynamic, empowered - a far cry from the educated but otherwise fairly helpless protagonists on which cosmic horror tends to trade. Themes of futility in the face of incomprehensible beings don’t really make for good D&D most of the time, not when so much of the system (any edition, it doesn’t matter) is set up to create and reward cunning and heroic struggle. Classic cosmic horror, in the original proposed form, is not a good fit.

Thankfully, we have two solutions to give you what you crave in-house. Let’s start with the one that is somehow both the closer fit and the further fit.

You Have Fucked Up - The Far Realm Overview

Originally introduced in late AD&D 2e, the Far Realm as an idea hit its stride during 3.0/3.5 before getting a major rework as part of 4e’s cosmology, where it became the source of most/all aberrations. We’re gonna go ahead and pretend 4e didn’t happen, not because 4e is bad (and for the love of fuck please don’t start an edition war on my cosmic horror post) but because 4e’s cosmology just doesn’t really fit in with any of the rest. 1e <-> 3.5 is more or less coherent and you can beat 5e into line with a wrench and some harsh language, but 4e...well, anyway.

The Far Realms is outside reality. No, not in another dimension, we know what those are - those are the Planes. It’s outside reality; it is Somewhere Else. “It” is probably even the wrong term, since by definition any place (”place”) that isn’t the multiverse as D&D knows it is the Far Realm. To paraphrase Afroakuma, if the Great Wheel is a Lego brick, the Far Realm is a giant squid; if the Great Wheel is a bowl of Fruit Loops, the Far Realm is the theory that intelligences from Pluto rig the results of major sporting events. The contexts are not compatible. These two things do not go together in any way. Combining the two can only end in sorrow and woe.

So mortals try to combine the two all the time, because we’re dipshits like that.

Every now and again, some truly, monumentally stupid person - usually but not always someone inside reality - breaches the skin that contains reality inside itself, and lets in the essence of Outside. This is a phenomenally bad idea; the immediate result is corruption in both directions as the essence of each form of reality bleeds into the other. Both attempt to ‘scab’ the breach, translating the foreign substances and beings into something more like the reality they have moved to. If a breach happens, there is one of three outcomes. If you are very, very lucky, no being on the other side notices the breach, and you’ve ‘merely’ blighted and corrupted a vast stretch of land, tainting it with something sort of like, but not enough like, Chaos and Evil for millennia to come - maybe even forever. If you’re not lucky, a being on the other side notices the breach and acts to seal it, the ripple of which causes you to not have a nation or continent any more as said corruption absolutely consumes the lands in which you live. And if you are phenomenally unlucky, the being on the other side is just as stupid as you are, and it comes through. The last time that happened the original Gnomish pantheon got murdered. Their homeworld doesn’t exist any more.

There is no ‘good’ outcome. This is the repeated and absolute theme of the Far Realms; whatever your reasons for getting involved with them, whatever you wanted, whatever you were seeking, you don’t get it. Mortals fuck with the Far Realms because our inability to comprehend them leads us to think of them like things we can experience. The scabbed-over beings we meet that are from there (Psuedonatural creatures; see the Alienist prestige class in Tome & Blood and Complete Arcane, as well as the bigger version in the Epic Level Handbook) are Chaotic Evil because that is how reality translates them. They aren’t Chaos, they’re another reality, and their unwilling and unwitting corruption of all around them gets redefined as Chaotic Evil in order to reduce their damage to all of existence to a manageable fucking level. Were you seeking the Far Realms in order to harness power for great change? Get fucked, you can’t control what happens. Were you seeking magical power? Get fucked; the reason people go mad when exposed to the Far Realms isn’t just that the knowledge they gain makes no sense, it’s that the complete lack of context means all of the stuff you killed and stole and lied and cheated for is more or less completely goddamn useless. Trying to escape existence for some reason? One, death is faster, but two, hope you enjoy suffering the entire time you die - and that’s if the breach stays open long enough for you to be able to enjoy death as a concept before you get sealed away in a place where mortality doesn’t meaningfully exist.

You don’t get what you want. This was a bad idea. You fucked up.

5e, the most recent edition of D&D, mainly continues this trend. It has suggestions of the lazier interpretation of Lovecraft’s work tied to the Far Realms, which I heartily suggest you ignore, but some of the other ideas are phenomenal. The Great Old Ones Pact for Warlock has one in particular that I like quite a bit, which suggests that the Warlock-to-be created an unintended connection to a Far Realms intelligence and gained power against both of their wills and possibly without the intelligence in question even noticing. You don’t need to change a lot in 5e’s run to bring out the extant themes of the Far Realms - though admittedly this is greatly assisted by the fact that 5e barely has any Far Realms content to begin with, so there’s not a lot to edit. That also means there’s not a lot to use, so if you want to use Far Realms stuff in 5e you’re gonna have to get ready to spend a lot of time making your own. Which brings us to...

Who The Fuck Funded This Research?!? - Using The Far Realms In Your Game

Considering that all-important theme - “this was a bad idea” - the Far Realms are likely to be antagonistic in nature in your game, even if ‘antagonistic’ isn’t the right term. Published adventures have used Far Realms content as a sort of backdrop (Firestorm Peak comes to mind here) before, and you can easily make Far Realms creatures a more direct problem for your PCs by centering the campaign around a cult or research team attempting to cause a new breach. This could be a great time to engage with player-side themes such as the ethics of magic use, the cost of power, and the burden of responsibility for said power, assuming your group is down for it. Even if they’re not, horrifying monstrosities that by definition have no place in this universe are great to kick in the head(s).

What motivates people to cause a breach? Mainly stupidity, but the special kind of stupidity you only get when someone is highly educated and deeply intelligent. For awhile, in the real world, there was a burst of designers making D20 heartbreakers - successors to D&D 3.5 meant to fix its many catastrophic flaws. Each person thought they had it, the secret to make the system they both loved and hated finally function, and they were all wrong. Causing a breach into the Far Realms is like that. Every sign points to it being a bad idea. Reading the research and spells of the last people who tried it reveals that it’s a bad idea. All of the diaries and primary sources of those who did it and those who stopped them say it’s a bad idea, but that’s okay because I, Wizardhat von Dipshit, am not like those fools. I will be more careful, and the power to reshape the Planes will be mine!

The easiest way to make Far Realms creatures for use in your campaign is to start with an existing monster and fuck it up; rearrange its abilities (adding or emphasizing mental attacks and psychic damage, if you can), alter its physical form, and generally just make that shit wrong and fill its blood with spiders. If you want to get more alien from there or make something original, the best guideline I can offer for you is that aboleths were the result of Far Realms taint in the beginning of this reality (it’s telling that the closest thing reality could translate their progenitor into was a Greater Deity).

No one wants power for its own sake, of course, but what your antagonist actually wants is more or less irrelevant because the important bit is that they had every chance to know better and they’re about to make this bad decision on purpose anyway. This is how the Far Realms brings out cosmic horror themes in a heroic context; power that is beyond both mortal comprehension and control, which has no place in this reality and recoils from us as violently as we recoil from it. Like Lovecraft, whose stories revealed a deep cynicism about knowledge and science, your antagonists will be erudite individuals whose ruinous plans are only possible because of what they have learned and, in turn, chosen to ignore. If nothing is done, unstoppable catastrophe will be unleashed, and with it will come madness and desolation. If only some heroes were on hand, eh?

The disconnect the Far Realms has from classic cosmic horror is also the source of why they fit; they don’t belong here. In Lovecraft’s work, it’s humanity that doesn’t belong - we are a blight upon the rightful property of higher beings. The Far Realms are instead an intrusion, something from Elsewhere which doesn’t want to be here as much as we don’t want it here. That helps those classic cosmic horror themes work much better in this context, but maybe you’re looking for something else, something from here. Do the Planes have cosmic horror from within the shell of Reality?

Yes. Oh yes, they do.

Ancient Evil Survives - Obyrith Overview

In the beginning, there was war.

The primordial War of Law and Chaos is the greatest conflict to have ever rocked the Planes. It was so destructive, so all-encompassing, that it consumed entire Material Plane worlds, reshaped the nature of the Planes themselves, and is still happening, even now. It began in the early days of the Great Wheel and was prosecuted by Chaos, led by the self-styled Queen of Chaos, over a single question: should reality be real? Should effects follow causes, should gravity exist, should fire burn and light reveal, should things age and die, should...

The forces of Law said yes to these questions and fought to establish and maintain an order and logic to reality. Chaos fought for an unbound reality, one in which each individual would be completely free to express their own true essence as tangible changes in the existence around them. The War was never truly won or lost, but the imprisonment of Miska the Wolf-Spider broke the backs of the Chaotic coalition and brought the War to a stalemate of sorts, in a reality which, if not dominated by Law, is definitely Law-leaning. Mortals are familiar with the terrible demons used as footsoldiers by the Abyss, the Tanar’ri, who reign yet in that terrible place. But it was not the Tanar’ri in command of Chaos, and not the Tanar’ri who prosecuted that terrible War. Indeed, the beings we now recognize as demons rose up against their creators, the Obyriths, after the imprisonment of Miska. They overthrew the Obyriths in a great slaughter and replaced them as the dominant exemplars of Chaotic Evil.

The Obyriths are not dead. They plan, and they wait, and they wage war and slaughter upon their wayward slaves in the Abyss. Every last one of them burns to reignite the War and achieve their vision of unbound reality, free of the wretched Law and all too weak to survive without it.

Prisoners Of The Flesh - Obyrith Nature

So what are Obyriths? The easiest answer is that they’re demons - the first demons, in fact, which preceded the more famous Tanar’ri (when you think of demons in D&D chances are you’re thinking of a Tanar’ri), and while this answer is entirely correct it is not the whole story. Tanar’ri are famously Chaotic Evil; they revel in corruption and destruction and are driven to maliciously annihilate or taint all they come across. A demon army marching across the land will stop to personally kick every puppy between point A and point B and they will absolutely mutiny against you if you try to stop them from doing so. What is good and pure must be soiled; what exists must be made to not exist, its foundations shattered, its virtues turned against themselves, its values abandoned. Tanar’ri respect only raw might, and only as long as they think they can’t defeat it.

But Obyriths, their progenitors, are Evil Chaos.

Let’s have some examples. This little guy is a draudnu, a kind of Obyrith made from the bones of chaotic celestials which post-dates the ‘end’ of the War by a pretty significant amount of time. They’re on the weaker side for Obyriths.

(You’ll find this boi in Monster Manual V for 3.5 incidentally.)

Take a nice long look. Really take it in - because that’s not the draudnu. That’s the prison of flesh, the scab, that reality has forced on the draudnu, that the terrible Law has locked it within. The actual draudnu looks like it’s inside me God it’s inside me I can feel it growing and twisting it HURTS get it out, it’s seeping into my blood it’s inside me it’s INSIDE ME -

Let’s have another example. This is a sibriex, recently re-published in Mordenkeinan’s Tome of Foes for 5e with no mention of Obyriths, which is a damn shame. They were instrumental in defining the forms of the common breeds of Tanar’ri.

Fun, right? But again, that’s not a sibriex; the actual form of a sibriex is perfection. Absolute beauty and grace. I am nothing compared to this perfection. I am no one in the face of this perfection. My existence can only profane this perfection. I must serve the Perfect One. I must let it remake me and reshape me, I must appease it, I must make amends for the crime that is my trespass upon the reality made for the Perfect One.

Those two are ‘common’ Obyriths, examples of that race of demons which have peers who are much like themselves, but the Obyriths still have extant Demon Princes. The Queen of Chaos is still alive and nursing her ancient hate. Pale Night’s true form is so profane that reality cannot stand its existence; when she reveals it to you, the multiverse destroys your soul so that knowledge of her truth does not exist. Obox-Ob, murdered by the Queen of Chaos, yet exists as an Aspect of himself - and the Planes live in fear of the rise of the Prince of Vermin, whose truth is agony, rot, and corruption, such that even if you magically remove memory of it from your mind you continue to die from the soul outward.

And Dagon plots within the depths of his palace, sponsoring and advising Demogorgon - the Prince of Demons - and contemplating unimaginable lore of evil. The Demon Prince of Depths looks like this.

This is the form carved on blasphemous altars in the depths of the oceans, where sunlight has never reached. This is the form worshiped by mortals who delight in corruption, destruction, and fear, who dream of a sea where vision is a distant memory and predators hunt by the scent of blood. It is the form sought by those who lust for ancient lore, kept in places far from mortal sight and utilized by an evil older than many gods and mortal races, a form whose mere touch can taint a body of water, mutating & mutilating all within and unleashing their fury, their terror, their slaughter, for ages to come. And it is not Dagon. Dagon’s true form, imprisoned within that flesh, is I’m drowning in the cold dark, I can feel my bones breaking, my eyes are bursting, I’m blind and I’m drowning and I can’t die, my lungs are gone, the water is seeping into my blood I’m drowning and I just want to die make it stop I’m DROWNING.

It’s telling that witnessing Dagon’s true form, his Form of Madness, can give even creatures that breathe water, or which do not breathe at all, crippling hydrophobia.

The true forms of Obyriths are not flesh or matter; they are not, by nature, Material beings the way other Outsiders and mortal things are. Their true forms are that you, personally, are going mad. You, personally, are being assaulted, violated, and infected; you, personally, are being victimized, corrupted, consumed, and betrayed. Imagine if the act of pouring flesh-eating beetles into someone’s eyes had a personality, will, and desires - not the person doing it, the act itself - and that’s an Obyrith. They are evil because what they are is evil, much in the way Erythnul is evil. Unlike their creations, the Tanar’ri, Obyriths aren’t in it to kick every puppy that has ever existed. They want to throw off the yoke of the Law and release their unbound forms. They want an existence of darkness and isolation in which all beings are free to express their true essence to the limit of their might and their will.

They just wanna be themselves.

No matter who has to die.

The Foes Of All Reason - Using Obyriths In Your Campaign

Do you enjoy life’s little conveniences, such as cause-and-effect, linear time, predictable & observable physical laws, not having your body boil away beneath the agonizing will of some random asshole, and the capacity to recognize patterns in nature? Then Obyriths are your enemies. As demons, Obyriths can be summoned and are thus easy to use in the sort of ‘guest star’ role that Tanar’ri are often used in, even if it takes a moon-sized pair of brass balls to decide you can contain one. However, this use - while valid - is not a good way to bring out their cosmic horror themes, and since you decided to read an article about cosmic horror in D&D this far down I’m going to go ahead and assume you’d like to do that.

As one of the Planes’ most ancient and active evils - arguably the most ancient one that hasn’t died or otherwise fucked off - Obyriths are absolutely prime for campaigns that deal with ancient lore, primordial conflict, and unreality. If you like the idea of long-burn plots by masterminds with the patience of aeons, Obyriths are definitely for you. For an example of one such story, check out The Tale of the Whale, written by Afroakuma. The downside to using Obyriths in this way is that if you want to do so in canon settings, you need to be prepared to do some absolute fucking deep dives on the lore, which may require access to books or PDFs as far back as 1e & 2e. If you’re using your own setting this problem is lessened, though at that point you do have to manage to sell the ancient nature of such beings in a way that makes them feel suitably eldritch.

For more...let’s go ahead and say modern for lack of a better word, takes, keep in mind that Obyriths are not Tanar’ri. They do not scheme to overthrow the government of a nation; your pale, fleshly shadow of the Law is nothing to them. The plots of Obyriths upend the Laws which underpin reality itself. Could the great contract that details the alliance between the tribes of Men and Cats be found and perverted, turning each against the other in all reality? Could the insects of this realm be infected with the essence of Obox-Ob so that the Demon Prince of Vermin can feast on mortal souls and effect his own return to power? Could a bridge linking the Deep Ethereal to the Abyss be constructed, permitting the sibriexes and their master, the Prince of the Chrysalis, to shape new slaves from the very essence of raw Potential? Obyriths pervert what is and should be, not just because it suits their end goal of chaos unbound, but because corruption and violation is their very nature. It’s how they think, how they move, what they believe in, love, and value.

Obyriths have a lot to suggest for them when it comes to cosmic horror stories in D&D’s context. They bring out direct themes of madness, terrible truth, malign alien intelligence, and reality-unreality. You can comprehend their motives and even their nature, sort of, but their end goal is completely alien to mortal beings; the reality they want would be completely unrecognizable to the denizens of the current one. They are evil as mortals understand the concept, but not in a way that matches or even relates to their peers, which means they act in surprising and unpredictable ways.

All of this of course damages their ability to fulfill the classic cosmic horror thesis, but there’s something to be said about the idea that an alien intelligence, to be horrifying, needs something humans can attempt to relate to. It certainly makes writing for them easier.

If you’re using Obyriths in 3.5, you’re set to go; look for them in the various Monster Manuals, as well as Fiendish Codex. If you’re attempting to use them in Pathfinder, good decision but you’re gonna have some stat block converting to do. Trying to use them in 5e is gonna be the absolute bitch of a job, and I’m not sure where to even start on those suggestions except to note that the signature trait of Obyriths - the thing that makes them them, mechanically - is a Form of Madness ability, where they reveal their truth to their victims. Forms of Madness are mind-affecting abilities which hit all non-demons near the Obyrith, tainting them in some way. You can see some example ideas above, and the ones from 3.5 in the published books I just mentioned, but here’s hoping I can find an expert on 5th Edition’s mechanics kind enough to lend me a hand here.

I hope this article proved helpful to you! As with all of my work, questions and critique are welcome. Thanks for reading!

[thembtitruth]

Losing Temper

We Screwed Up. It was subtle, and we’re all paying for it.

It starts with what appears to be a benign proposition: the auxiliary function is equal in strength and preference to the tertiary function rather than stronger as MBTI suggests.

Now, at first, this looks like it means very little. After all, MBTI doesn’t suggest a very large difference between auxiliary and tertiary functions. And furthermore, you may recall INFJs reporting very intense Ti or ENTJs reporting very intense Se. Or ESFPs with their Te, or ISTPs with their Ni. However, this small difference has extreme consequences. Most notably: the destruction of Kiersian temperament. No more NFs, or STs. There are four sensing doms, four thinking doms, four feeling doms, and four intuitive doms. That’s all.

Some Historical Background:

Myers and Briggs were not psychologists like Jung. They were fans of Jung’s work who saw a use for his typology system: helping women figure out what jobs would best suit them in the US during World War II.

Jung’s system had only 8 types based on the eight possible dominant functions. He described how the dominant function suppressed the inferior function as well as how the other two functions were “somewhat” suppressed. But there is no mention of these other two functions being suppressed in different amounts, nor is there any way to logically assume such a thing from his model of type.

The introduction of temperament and of tertiary and auxiliary functions comes from the advent of the first MBTI test. The first letter is introduced by Jung, so that has to be there. The other three are designed to help zero in on the dominant function. Jung described Thinking and Feeling doms as “Judgers” since these functions are judging functions, and Intuitive and Sensing doms as “Perceivers” since these functions are perceiving functions. So it follows that Myers and Briggs would include a J-P axis. However, this J-P axis ended up not measuring what they meant for it to measure since Jung would describe INTPs as Judgers and ISTJs as Perceivers as socionics does. The middle two, the ones that give rise to temperament, are merely to find out which of the four possible cognitive functions is strongest. An ESTP, for example, will be very strong in Sensing with no significant preference in Thinking or Feeling, suggesting, since (s)he is an extravert and a perceiver, Se dominance.

These axes are tools designed to find which Jungian type a person belongs to. They are no more than that.

As a concession, Myers and Briggs did stumble onto something Jung wasn’t aware of. They stumbled onto the fact that ESFPs and ESTPs are not the same type. Both are Se doms, and neither is stronger in Thinking or Feeling, but one has Ti-Fe and the other has Te-Fi.

Here are some consequences:

This is a traditional MBTI chart rearranged in clusters of dominant function. Each type is placed horizontally and vertically adjacent to their ideal types, and their neighbor in the next cluster is their sister type. For example, ESTP (top right in the sensor group) neighbors ISTP (top right in the thinker group) because the two are sister types (STPs). Moreover, the Ts closer to the S group are STs and the Ns closer to the F group are NFs. It perfectly represents temperament and auxiliary/tertiary functioning exactly the way MBTI traditionally does.

However, if the tertiary and auxiliary functions carry the same weight, it is equally valid to arrange the types like this.

The types are not labeled and there is a reason for this. The labels will draw attention to the letters of the type, and the chart will seem preposterous. ESTPs and ENFJs sister types?? Ridiculous! But by leaving out the labels, the actual function relationships become clear and the type differences don’t seem so severe. ESTPs have auxiliary Fe and ENFJs have it dominant. ENFJs have Se auxiliary and ESTPs have it dominant. That qualifies them as sister types. Here are some others: ISTP-INFJ - both considered piercingly insightful into the personalities of others. Both come off mysterious and brilliant

INTP-ISFJ - both nonconfrontational, quiet, deeply compassionate but also caught up in their own worlds. Prone to irrational thinking when they’ve built a certain amount of their life around an idea.

ESTP-ENFJ - both highly popular, social, manipulative, commanding, fun-loving but stern, thrill seeking, and genuinely gooey when they give their hearts away

INTJ-ISFP - both quiet, artistic, sensitive creatures who appear externally to simply master their chosen skills and trades but inwardly devote much of their lives to contemplating the philosophical and emotional nature of life.

ESFJ-ENTP - both awkward, nerdy characters who love a bad pun and love to be anybody’s and everybody’s hero. Both constantly seek to make a difference in their immediate environment at all times with their casual humor, nonjudgmental attitude, and deep interest in others.

Further Emboldening

“Loop” is a concept that’s discussed a lot in Myers Briggs. Unlike Grip, which is a temporary state someone enters when stressed, Loop is something that persists for very long periods of time. Furthermore, many many people of some types, like INFJ, report being in Loop for most of their lives. INFJs are actually a good case study for the strength of the tertiary function. Many INFJs report extremely strong Ti that “conspires” with Ni against Fe. This is a big part of why so many say they are almost always ���in Loop”.

The fact is, INFJs have very strong Ti. They always do. Reading the works of great INFJs like Spinoza, Jung, and Plato reveal this quite clearly. However, the strong Ti of INFJs is often discounted due to the highly spiritual, religious, or ridiculous nature of their blanket claims. Plato and his theory of Forms sound like a description of “math heaven”. Spinoza and his theory of God sound like baseless theology. Carl Jung even published extensively on the subject of ESP and the Collective Unconscious, which sounds like some kind of global mind telepathy crap. It is only those daring or curious enough to actually read their works who get to see that there is nothing irrational at all about the claims. INFJs are a lot like ENTPs in this way. They explore concepts in their heads logically looking for interesting consequences and conclusions, then present their ideas purposefully in the most challenging, heretical, nonsensical way possible. They want to show titularly the coolest aspect of what they’ve discovered. However, the INFJ, like the ENTP, actually just constructs unorthodox definitions for the kinds of spiritual or strange phenomena they describe, then logically explore the consequences of those definitions to create fascinating insights. Their theories are both internally and externally consistent, and such consistency is of paramount importance to any INFJ.

There’s no need to rely on an alien notion of “Loop” to explain why the Tertiary function is so strong in certain types. In truth, it’s strong in every type - as strong as the auxiliary function - and this happens in both healthy and unhealthy individuals.

On a related note, ENTPs are also equally as “Fe” as INFJs. INFJs’ feeler-ness is often cited in their a) humanitarian bent, b) tendency to counsel, and c) nonconfrontational attitude. ENTPs match in (a b) but not in (c). However, I believe INFJs also don’t truly exhibit (c). First, ENTPs are often known as the explainers or the debaters. They are known for their desire to change the beliefs of others, to challenge, to inspire. Socrates, for example, was a major social influencer who held a strong belief in inspiring people to think for themselves. This is universal among ENTPs. INFJs tend to have the same goal, but differ from ENTPs in a very specific way. ENTPs try to inspire people on a case by case basis in the form of debates, arguments, and public displays. INFJs prefer a longer term campaign of slowly convincing others. This is a simple Ne-Ni difference.