#the things i do to serve the brainworms

[witchinatree]

i never really do stuff like this, i used to do video editing in middle school but idk. idk I'M EMBARASSEDDD LMAOOO just take this and shut up

"jonathan sims; another mystery"

i got really inspired by the amount of angst potential from the word "who?" and idk this showed up (i'm lying i've been doing this for over 6 hours)

it was originally gonna be like tma vs tmagp but then the jon sims brainworms took over and now it's sad shit about my wife

i am trying to be more than just a yapper so i might do something like this again, depends on if i get motivated again

so yeah, podcast is the magnus archives/protocol, the song is voyager by boygenius, and i used capcut to do this!!

ummm if it's like.. bad.. don't tell me that 😔 i haven't ever done audio editing and it's been over 3 years since i did regular editing so AGGHRHHHJFHAHHD

edited because i posted this at 1 am and forgot half of the stuff i was gonna say

[bloodsuckingfiends]

Take Care of You

Summary: Tav's selflessness does not go unnoticed by Astarion, but so doesn't the way her selflessness is at the expense of her own well-being. He decides to take it into his own hands to take care of her... in more ways than one.

Pairing: Astarion x fem! Tav (reader)

Warnings: Tav overworks herself and neglects her own needs/selfcare, smut, fingering (Tav is AFAB), feminine pet names used, praise kink, I think that's it!

Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: I have brainworms again and need to get this out sooooo enjoy?

Oftentimes, Astarion found that Tav tended to the needs of others, but very rarely to any needs of her own. He had witnessed Tav spend the last 3 days taking care of everyone, including himself in various ways that had her now looking, and surely feeling, absolutely exhausted. As he stood outside his tent, eyes scanning the camp setup before him, his gaze zeroed in on his Tav who was currently starting the fire, and helping to set up Gale’s various cooking tools and ingredients. A soft smile tugged at his lips just at the mere sight of her, before turning to a frown. As it was, Gale was away from camp, surely bathing off the day’s blood and grime along with their other companions, as Tav readied everything for their return. Her hair was crusted with blood, as was her armor, and her cheeks were streaked with dirt. Her eyes ringed with purple, tell tale signs of her exhaustion.

With a sigh, Astarion makes his way across camp, coming to stand beside Tav,

“Darling, I must say, you do look absolutely ravishing in red, but don’t you think it’s a good idea to get cleaned up?” She looks up at him with doe eyes, hands not stilling in their endeavor to help.

“Oh I don’t mind waiting. The others won’t be long, and besides, I just want to help set up for Gale. He’s always so kind as to make dinner for everyone, so this is me paying him back.”

Astarion manages to internalize his eye roll, and hold his tongue from pointing out that Tav has saved the wizard plenty of times in battle to make up for the meager stew that’s served nearly daily.

He places a hand on her shoulder, before pulling back and dusting the dried blood off his hand, “I just worry that you haven’t been taking care of yourself, is all.” a clear of his throat does well to cover the awkwardness he feels at saying such a vulnerable thing to her. 

“I’m alright Star, no need to worry.” She gives him a glance and a little smile.

“I don’t mean to be blunt darling, but you look positively dreadful and like you could use a nap. Please, let me take care of you.” Astarion huffs, frustrated at her stubbornness. Tav straightens up and turns, her eyes meeting his almost pleading ones, “Okay, I’ll let you take care of me.” Her voice comes out a quiet murmur. There was no denying him when he gave her that look.

The others arrive back to camp not long after Astarion gathers fresh clothes, a comb, and toiletries for Tav. He leads her to a secluded spot along the shore of a small lake they are camped by, before unbuckling and removing her heavy armor and underclothes, leaning forwards to press a kiss to her forehead as he does so. He strips himself of his own clothes, regardless of having bathed earlier that evening, taking Tav’s hand in his own and bringing her to the water. Astarion gets to work, lathering the soap between his hands, and gently scrubbing the filth from Tav’s body and face, a shiver running through her at his touch. He has her fully dip underwater, then begins to work the soap through the blood drenched strands of her hair, massaging at her scalp with his fingertips. Tav lets a moan slip past her lips.

“Does that feel good darling?” Astarion chuckles as he brings the soap down to the ends of her hair.

She mumbles an affirmative, her eyes flutter shut. 

“Alright, there we go. Just rinse this out for me, will you, love?” 

Tav dips back below the surface, thoroughly rinsing out her locks. When she resurfaces, Astarion can’t help but bite his lip at the sight. The water rolling down her neck, over her breasts as she pushes her hair away from her face. She looks like a painting, he thinks. 

The two dry off, and Tav dresses in the clothes that Astarion had brought along for her; a pair of loose trousers, and one of his ruffled night shirts she so loved to steal. Once in Astarion’s tent, the vampire sits, patting the space between his legs and motioning for Tav to take a seat. She obeys, and sits while he starts to comb her hair.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” he hums, fingers beginning to plait her hair.

“I’m okay. I guess I didn’t realize how tired I am.” Tav yawns, her hands mindlessly playing with a loose thread on his trousers.

“Tav, you really must take care of yourself. You put everyone, including myself, before you. It’s really no wonder you’re so exhausted.” he ties off the braid with a piece of leather. His arms come around to wrap over Tav’s chest, holding her against his own and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.

“I just want to help everyone, and I guess I lose myself in the process.” a chill runs through her at the feel of his lips on her sensitive skin. 

“Darling, do you think you could try to lose yourself in me, just for a moment, hm?” his tongue flicks against the edge of  her jaw. 

She gasps in a breath, and stutters, “ye-yes, I think I could do that.” 

“Let me take care of you.” One hand whispers across her chest, lightly cupping one breast in it’s hold, before trailing down her stomach, and dancing along the waist of her trousers, “Let’’s take these off.”

Tav shimmies her pants over her hips and down her legs, toeing them off to the side. Astarion runs his hands down her naked thighs, hooking beneath them to lift them and rest them over the tops of his, successfully spreading her open for him. Her breath catches in her chest, the cool air hitting her already sensitive cunt.

“My my, look at you. You’re already positively dripping.” He dips his fingers below and runs his middle finger through her wet, swollen slit, opposite hand running up her ribcage, grasping at her breasts and teasing at her nipples. He toys at her entrance, teasing the tips of his fingers in  her before pushing slowly inside. Tav moans, her chest heaving slightly at the intrusion. 

“That’s it, such a good girl taking my fingers like this.” Astarion coos in her ear, nose pressed to her cheek. He begins to pump his digits in and out, crooking them just enough to rub at that spot that makes her mewl. 

“Just feel how good I’m making you feel, my love.” The pace of his fingers picks up, and his other hand pinches at one of her nipples. 

“St-Star, I’m close.” her head falls back against his shoulder, throat exposed for his mouth’s taking. Thighs shake against his as she nears her end. He sucks and licks at the flesh of her throat, fingers continuing their pace. The hand playing with her breasts, makes its way down to circle her swollen clit. Tav whines at the contact, hands grip at his forearms, grounding her to the moment. 

“That’s it, pet. Come for me. Come around my fingers, I want to feel it.” 

Her cunt spasms around him, thighs quaking and hips lifting to meet his movements. Moans fly past her lips, as she rides out her orgasm. Astarion slows his fingers as she comes down from her high, “Shh shh shh, there we go.” Tav looks back at him, a blissed out, glassy look to her eyes. “There you are, darling. How did that feel?” 

She tries to regulate her breathing, “So good.” she manages to reply.

He grabs a cloth, and cleans her up, then slips back on her underclothes and trousers. 

“Come here, my love.” He scoops her up and lays her down, her head upon his chest, as he pulls the bedroll and blankets around the two of them. 

“Thank you Star, for taking care of me.” Tav mumbles as she drifts off and gets the much needed rest that she deserves.

[qqueenofhades]

what's been particularly vile to me is this group of white online leftists who insist that anyone who cares about more than this one issue for the election is a bad person, like, as if us black and brown people are making up reasons to be afraid and not.....believing the gop when they say they are coming for us. believing trump who has said previously that he does not bluff, that he will do the things he's said he will do (i hate what social media has gone to the word gaslighting but it feels like gaslighting. we lived through four years of trump. we saw the damage. stop treating us like we're being dramatic). it must be great to not have to worry about that i guess? "life won't change under trump" is such a telling admission because maybe theirs won't but mine will. and so many others' will.

and it is often again these (white) online leftists that love to call anyone who disagrees with them a white liberal (derogatory) because they know it would be racist (bad) to be this shitty and condescending to poc but they don't want to actually listen to anything black and brown voters are saying. it's easier to just call us white liberals and throw our opinions out, to ignore the work of black people for decades to gain the right to vote, to disregard the weight of telling them to not do that. it's genuinely appalling. they care so much about racism until it's time to engage with poc who have different opinions than their online echo chambers, then we're just stupid liberals with terrible opinions like..... wanting to live. not wanting four more years of trump. so sorry for that.

sorry for this vent in your inbox, i'm just so fucking tired of white people trying to rewrite history as if trump wasn't that bad. he was for my family and countless others and i am terrified for what's to come if he wins.

The thing about (the often-white) Online Leftists is that they have become just as much as a radicalized death cult as the diehard Trumpists. If you don't want to die for The Revolution and/or sacrifice your life, friends, family, the rest of the country, etc., then you're Insufficiently Pure and must be Purged. (Which I think is just complete BS, as none of them could actually handle sacrificing anything, but it's increasingly the only kind of performative rhetoric that is acceptable in leftist-identified discourse spaces.) This is functionally identical to "if you aren't willing to lay down your life for our Lord and Savior Donald Trump and the Great White Christian Nationalist Dictatorship, you're a liberal cuck," but with the names and justification changed. It doesn't change the underlying radicalization, nihilism, and insanity of the premise.

Another thing the Trumpists and the Online Leftists have in common is that they are busily rewriting just how bad Trump was in order to serve their Ideology. Ever since January 6, 2021, the Republicans have thrown everything they have at revising and whitewashing any suggestion that it was an "insurrection," and the Online Leftists have done the same, in an attempt to "prove" their insane point that Trump "would be better" than Biden. This is embodied in the recent ultimate-brainworm-nonsense maximalist-online take that "Biden has to lose so the rest of the world will see that the US rejects genocide!!!" That's right, the message that the rest of the world would take from Biden losing to Trump is that the US rejects genocide. Never mind if Trump literally wants to commit all the genocide possible and to install himself as a fascist theocratic dictator. In the deeply twisted minds of the Online Leftists, this is the only possible interpretation of Biden's loss, so they'll push for it as hard as they can! The Trumpists and the Online Leftists, at this point, are working pretty much in concert to damage Biden for similar insane reasons and get Trump elected. Etc etc., one Nazi and ten people at the same table is eleven Nazis.

Like. Sure. Four years ago, when Trump was president and people were dying by the thousands because he didn't want to wear a mask because it smeared his bronzer, just to name literally one of the terrible things he did every single day (and not even mentioning how much worse a second term would be) we were absolutely better off. Super-duper great. (Sarcasm.) Either that or "there is suffering and evil in the world and the only solution is to drastically increase the suffering and evil for everyone and to destroy what progress we have managed to make because It Does Not Fix Everything Now" is an absolute moral imperative, and either way, yeah. I'm calling bullshit.

[redbelles]

due to our shared ongoing brainrot: what's a thing that gave you the most brainworms in masters of the air? 👀

since i've already given an insane little spiel about the flying fortress here, i will spare you the ever-present aviation brainworms and go with, uh— curt biddick.

like i'm so sorry but the way barry keoghan portrays him makes me insane, actually?

"let’s knock one off, and drop bombs on those nazi fucks, and we get to go home early," the confidence, the swagger, the little teasing joke about buck sitting in his lap if he didn't preemptively give up the left seat, the genuine concern for bucky but the willingness to hit him nonetheless, "i'm irish," the near-debilitating relief when he realizes the rest of the formation is slowing down so he can keep pace, the fucking little spoon in-joke, the characteristically astute question being played for laughs but it is an astute question! why the fuck are they going to africa! and then, god—

the fog spooks him. it's always spooked him. he heads over to talk to buck on the pretense of finding out how buck and his crew are doing, but it's so, so clear he's looking for reassurance. that he's reaffirming to himself that this clusterfuck of a mission is going to be worth it—that they'll do some real damage—even as it's brutally clear that the critical element of timing is already blown to hell. the way all that fear falls away the instant he's in the air, because he's responsible for his crew. "we're losing her" "no we're not!" he's going to keep his goddamn crew alive. his insistence that he can bring her down safely, even when it doesn't matter. when it would be easier, and safer, and smarter to bail out. dickie's going to die whether or not curt manages the gentlest landing in the world, but fuck, he has to try. he can't not try. it's such a vicious contrast to quinn's choice when babyface is trapped in the ball turret, and it breaks my fucking heart.

all this is nuanced by the fact that curt's story is one of the narrative changes masters of the air made— curt biddick did not die trying to set his plane down so his dying co-pilot could have a shot at survival. in reality, curt biddick burned to death holding his fortress level so that the rest of the crew could safely bail out. he was known as a hard luck pilot, though, and i think the changes successfully walk the very fine line of serving the narrative (see: parallel with quinn and babyface) while simultaneously honoring the spirit of the events being portrayed.

you know that i knew that the regensburg-schweinfurt raid was a shitshow and that i was prepared to watch people die, but god, curt's death still hit me like a ton of bricks. it's so well done, and the acting is phenomenal from start to finish. curt biddick, the man that you were. barry keoghan, the man that you are.

anyway! thank u for the ask! hope u like the fuckin' essay you got in response!

inbox me one (1) thing you want to know about me

[pygmi-cygni]

hands and knees begging for fluff of any of the trio (king john, blue jones, nathan bateman) (i have a brainworm for john)

just throw aside medieval standards okay

you two are lifelong friends from different kingdoms, but your fathers are friendly and decide to wed the both of you to get married for stability of the kingdoms. both of your childhoods were spent primarily in the woods. so rugged, less than quaint dresses for you and mud and smeared, muddy faces. so john sees you for the first time all dolled up and his response and SLOW DANCING IN A CLEARING IN THE WOODS TO BIRDSONG IM GONNA DIE ‼️‼️‼️

anyways no pressure at all 🫶 just wanted to dump some thoughts

yes ma'am reporting for duty (i love fluff for any of those three, my masterlist is basically just nathan bateman fluff atp)

I'll go with the prompt u gave me because it was so lovely.

cw: fluff, feelings, fem reader, blasphemy of medieval standards because Jupiter gave me permission, minor miscommunication because i literally cannot do anything the easy way, pining, this is a little different than your prompt but i hope it still works alright for you

Four sets of stone stairs were a beast at seven in the morning. Your calves had just woken up and the climb did not look appealing. But, there was a chamber meeting which meant the princeling had to be up early.

Or, earlier, because he already woke up half past everyone else. You'd found in your years of serving the royal family that an extra twenty minutes fended off his tantrums for at least an hour.

You heaved open the heavy lock to John's room and made your way briskly to his chambers. The curtains were drawn already, but the streaming shafts of sunlight didn't rouse the head of curls slumped under silk sheets. He was snoring steadily, tucked warmly underneath his blankets. You felt sad to wake him - the quiet was a nice change.

But all things come to an end.

As politely as you could, you pulled a bell from your skirt and leaned close to his ear.

And shook it till the ringing peals made your ears bleed.

John was up, head rearing like a horse's out of a river, eyes still half closed and crusted with sleep. He had drool dried on his cheek, and his uncoordinated limbs swatted at the noise. You grinned and tucked the bell away, turning to give him privacy.

"Good Morning, your Grace," you said smoothly, listening to his grumbling with glee. John muttered something crude and shoved off his coverings.

As always, he slept nude, and your eyes remained fixed on the garden outside. Cook was gathering tomatoes with the scullery maid, the swollen red fruit shining in the dew.

You heard shuffling, then a pause.

"Why're you in here?"

His tone was curdled and you turned, eyebrow raised. You knew why, of course, but the game was too fun to let up so soon.

"Pardon, your Grace? Were you expecting someone?" You fluttered your lashes innocently, drinking in his disgruntled scowl. His pants were half laced and his shirt hung off one shoulder.

"...No."

You resisted the urge to stick out your tongue and returned to observing the garden.

You'd grown up with John, more or less. You, a servant, him...well, him. Sort of friends, the way children are before they know of things like 'rules' and 'expectations.' Then, you blossomed into the age where girls and boys didn't mix, and certainly not the Prince and his maid.

But, mornings were always a treat.

Although recently, his morning 'treat' was Winnie, the willowy girl from Scottsdale who liked to wake him. Headmistress noticed and well, now you were here.

And John would never touch you.

A grumble told you he was dressed. You sighed, throwing open the doors to the hall.

Then paused, getting a full look at your ward.

"John."

His eyebrow sprang to his hairline, about to mock you for forgetting his title. But it was nothing compared to the mocking you would give him for wearing his shirt inside out, backwards, and absolutely filthy on the collar.

You checked the hall a dozen times for listening ears, then burst into a laugh. John watched you for a minute, then wiped the sleep from his eyes and swore, fumbling back into his bedroom. You supported yourself weakly on the oak doors, snickering into your apron. He appeared a moment later, cheeks pink and dressed in a clean, right-ways-round linen shirt.

"Waistcoat," you added, clearing your throat. His jaw ticked and ducked back in.

Finally dressed and in better spirits, you walked just in front of him, pleasant mask back in place. John's eyes would flicker to you occasionally, but you refused him, maintaining your professionalism.

It had been a while since you'd had fun. You missed it.

"You missed breakfast," you whispered when you'd made it to the break outside. John frowned, but you handed him a package from your skirt. "I saved you a tart."

John grunted a thank you and wolfed it down, chewing noisily in the quiet morning air. You stifled a smirk. Just like old days; spilling crumbs down his front and icing on his nose.

It hurt a little bit, but you got over it. He was still John from the big house with sticks in his hair, just a little bigger and his curls dirt-free. Although, an hour from now that might not be the case.

"The stables, Your Grace," you murmured, bowing stiffly and taking your leave. John paused, eyes at your back the rest of the way up the hill. He nodded to you at the top, disappearing into the rows of horses. He was hunting today, returning at noon to dress.

Alas, your day wasn't so easy - prepping for a ball meant your feet would be aching long into the night

The steaming bustle of the kitchen smacked you in the face. Spices, steam, and bellowing cooks swept you into the rush of daily routine. A half-heard direction was shouted into your ear, a basket of napkins thumped into your arms, and you were off. You moved like a marionette, waiting for someone to pull your strings in a new direction.

Your ears rang from banging pots and clattering spoons. The soles of your feet felt aflame, blisters aching in your worn-out shoes. Tiredness tugged at your bones and it was only noon. Sometimes you marveled at your ability not to fall down dead in the middle of polishing silver.

However hard your job in the kitchens may be, it was nowhere near Fred's. He balanced tediously on a ladder, dusting each individual crystal on the seven massive chandeliers in the room.

That job would kill you. Literally. The oldest maid had been crushed under one of those crystal monstrosities a few months ago.

You hung your apron on a hook and sighed, closing your eyes against the din. The sideboards were cool against your forehead as you allowed yourself a moment of peace.

"Ay," a gruff voice came from behind. "Get upstairs, yer needed for the dressing."

Yay.

You dusted off your hands and hustled up the four flights for the eight thousandth time that day, breathing heavily as you reached the top. God those steps sucked.

"I know you hate this but if you could please just hold still-"

"It hurts," he groused, twitching as you raked almond oil through his hair. Huffing, you grabbed his jaw and forced his neck still, bringing the comb back up to his scalp.

Huh. He was suddenly pliant, holding his chin up and patiently letting you finish. Just needed a bit of manhandling apparently. John had lovely hair. Thick, silky, dark, always tousled but still looked perfect. His facial hair, on the other hand, would need some TLC.

"Okay, now you really need to hold still."

The razor scratched pleasantly along his sharp jawline, and you swallowed down a curious feeling in your chest. You'd always found him attractive, just not so...close. The suds were technically ladies' soap, lavender, but he needed a bit of perfume. To hide all that dirty horse man smell.

Groomed as nicely as he'd ever been, John sat primly while you fished out his clothes.

"Did Her Highness want you in red or green?" You called from the armoire.

He sighed, and you heard the undeniable sound of him ruffling up his hair.

"I want to wear gold," he protested. "It complements my complexion."

"I don't care what you want," you mumbled, deciding on the red, "your mother is the one who'll be yanking my hair, not you."

"I could, if you'd like."

His voice was right in your ear and you jumped, face the same shade as his velvet overcoat. You floundered, unsure if his Cheshire grin was seductive or not. That gleam in his eye was humorous, but...this dresser was getting way too small, way too fast. You scurried around him, almost like he'd burned you.

John puffed out his chest but frowned when he saw the outfit.

"That one itches."

"I don't care, put it on."

"Do it for me."

Your eyes narrowed. "Aw, need someone to do your laces? No, Jonathan."

"That's no way to talk to a royal," he sniffed, eyebrow cocked. You schooled your face into neutrality, eyes burning. He was getting way too much enjoyment out of this.

"I'll be outside, Your Grace, if you need anything," you said with saccharine kindness, whirling out of his chambers before he could retort.

If it were anybody else, you'd be hung. But John had that way about him that made your tongue a little looser and your cheeks a little warmer. Besides, nobody else would put up with his antics. The amount of times you'd saved him from his mother's wrath? Uncountable.

You rocked on your heels, waiting for him to dress. There was still quite a lot to do, include get yourself ready. It was a themed ball, and therefore even the servants had to be in costume. You were looking forward to that - a new, pretty gown to wear, even if just for the night.

God, maybe he did need help with his laces.

Just when you were about to ensure he hadn't accidentally hung himself, John shuffled out of his bedchambers, shirt undone and a cross look on his face.

"It won't do it right," he huffed.

You averted your eyes from the planes of his chest. "I'll...here, just, um...yeah..."

Hands shaking, you deftly tied his shirt, shivering every time your fingers touched his skin. When he didn't try anything, you calmed, silver tongue back on display.

"You know, Winnie's corset isn't too different...surprised you aren't more practiced."

He wasn't even ashamed, just winked and flexed his hands. "Hm, that reminds me-"

"You just bathed," you said sternly, glaring up at him. His gaze was merry and you couldn't help a small smile.

"Ha, look, the old hag laughs-"

"I'm not old, and I wasn't laughing-"

When you reached his naval, you swore you saw his muscles bunch. Impressively.

"Are you flexing?"

"Are you looking?"

You poked his side and he yipped, shoving away. "Out, minstrel, or I'll have you hanged," he snapped jovially.

Rolling your eyes, you gathered your skirts and swept out of his room, cheeks tingling. Another woman was already outside, and you dropped the expression quickly. A stony chill sat in your bones, mask back in place.

Close one.

Silk rippled between your fingers. Your chest burned, reminding you to breathe.

"Mistress wants it back by the end of the night, so don't get any ideas," the matron barked, but you only had eyes for the dress.

It was the nicest thing you'd ever owned. White silk, trimmed in grey cord. A red sash to hold your keys and a carnation for your hair. Long sleeves and a pouf in the back. Yes, it had a ribbon to show you were the staff, but for a moment you could pretend.

Giddily, you and the other girls dressed, combing soaps through your hair and plaiting your tresses, each girl working on another's. you had no nice shoes, only your scuffed boots, but you did not care.

The silk was like butter over your shoulders.

Biting back a grin, you filed out after the rest of the staff, for the first time excited to be serving.

The castle was exploding with people, the dining hall and ballroom sweltering from the combination of overworked kitchens and crowds of partygoers. The smell of glazed ham and mead was strong, mixed not unpleasantly with perfumes from the ladies. You ducked and dodged, eyes respectfully aimed at the floor, taking cloaks and hoods to the mudrooms.

The coatrooms were piled with cloaks and you handed another armful to the weary footman, shooting him an apologetic smile.

A crash and you frowned, hoping another crystal set hadn't been ruined.

Why did all of the young men have to be so clumsy?

At least John fit in.

You didn't look for him in the crowd, and your face didn't perk up every time you got a glimpse of red velvet. That would be improper, see.

A maid bustled by with a trayful of tankards. Your mouth soured - there were plenty of handsy dukes walking around, and alcohol was not the answer to that equation. Maybe you could stick to the women's side of the table.

Most everybody had migrated towards the food, giving you a moment of reprieve in the back rooms. God, that was enough people for a lifetime.

A curious sound came from the room to your right. You nudged open the door and shit, that's definitely occupied- decided to leave the guests to their activities.

Oh well, another set of sheets to wash. You grimaced, shuddering at the thought. Yech.

Four more hours.

You might dislike John when he's grumpy but it doesn't hold a candle to him when he's drunk. When the guests had been shooed out and your energy thoroughly drained, you still heard him carousing the halls with his mates, making a right mess of his robes and anything he touched.

Oh, what fun chores would be tomorrow.

Dead on your feet, you trudged upstairs to help him to bed. The stone walls swayed in front of you as you stifled a yawn. Now that the rowdiness of the evening had vanished, the castle felt starkly cold. You shivered, wishing for bed.

Not bothering to knock, you pushed open the door to John's chambers.

He was sprawled on his bed, singing loudly into his pillows, stopping every verse to descend into giggles.

....Oh, joy.

"Your Grace," you called wearily, resting your weight against the door, "please, it's time for bed."

Another giggle and his tousled curls sprang up, his lanky body following suit clumsily.

"Ahh, hello little birdy..." he stretched and leaned back, appraising you. "That's a nice dress, did you steal it?"

"No, John, I didn't-"

"Thief, we have a thief! Off with her-"

"Stop it," you hissed, flapping your hands, "you'll wake the dead. Come, give me your jacket."

He whistled, winking. "Undressing me already? We're not even married yet-"

"Or ever, so help me God. Watch your mouth."

John blinked, genuinely confused. "Bu' you're dressed in all that-" he gestured, then it dawned. He froze for a second, recalculating, then sniffed and tore off his coat.

"Begone then, I have no need for you."

"Careful," you hissed, catching the garment before it hit the floor. The stitches would be a pain to repair, and to add on to his growing mess...

You felt your affection for him waning by the minute. John whistled out of tune, spinning in a solo dance while you carefully set his clothes to be washed. Now, to get him fully undressed without tearing the cloth to hell.

Exhaustion burned as you watched his carrying on. You just wanted to go to bed. Don't cry. Don't cry.

"John," you sighed wearily, shoulders sloping in defeat. He ignored you, favoring to lean out the window and sing throatily along to the drunkards outside.

"Prince John," you said, bitterness in your voice. Contempt ran hot in your blood. Still, he carried on, shirtless and cooing like a two-penny whore.

"Your Grace."

The fire in your tone made him turn, eyes wide. You trembled with irritation, eyes burning red and close to tears. Your fist was brutal around his velvet jacket. It would be wrinkled, but it was a suitable substitute for the princeling's throat. The title was sour on your tongue, and you saw his voice die in his throat.

"For the love of all that is holy," you seethed, "get your damn clothes on and get. In. Bed."

He had the decency to look ashamed, but that spirit still smoldered underneath.

"A servant should never use such language," he mused, dramatically tugging a nightshirt over his head. You scowled, tired tears stinging your cheeks.

Angrily you hung his clothing, slamming the armoire doors. John, for once, made no comment as you stormed over, going through the motions with nothing but a dull glare.

He stayed silent when you grabbed his face and tugged a brush through his hair, or fluffed his pillows with an aggressive thwack. HIs mouth was shut during each swish of your broom on the floor, and he only flinched when the broom clattered against the wall. You were crying silently too, any charm of the night or of the stupid dress worn off in your exhaustion.

It was a stupid dress. Too small around your shoulders and hotter than the seven hells. You needed it off, and to go to bed, and for John to just stop being so John.

"Is there anything else you require, Your Grace," you heaved, standing at furious attention near the door.

John sat like a scolded child on his bedspread, face drawn and quieter than you'd ever seen him. Please dismiss me. Please go to sleep.

"Yes," he said simply, and you about wanted to die.

You swallowed a scream of frustration as he stood and walked over.

"A waltz, please. It calms me at night."

"It calms you at- John, stop playing, it's late-"

His hand rested on your shoulder. You froze midsentence, mouth half open in shock. John's eyes were bright from drink but steady and soft as he looked at you.

"Just one," he murmured, "that's all."

Your feet ached and your bones creaked with every step. But you hung your head and stepped closer, arms out in position.

John slid his hand to your waist, his left arm draping over your back. Frowning, you twisted away, unsure of his tactic. But his grip was strong, and soon you were pressed to his chest.

You entire body was on fire. This was not supposed to be happening. You'd be thrown out, he'd be chastised, your dress would be ruined, you'd have nowhere to-

"Step on my feet," he instructed.

"What?"

"Step on my feet. Take off your boots, they're filthy, and stand on my feet."

???????????

Timidly, you obeyed, your thin stockings cold on the stone floor. Surprisingly, it soothed your sore soles, and you relaxed slightly. John adjusted his grip on your shoulder and began to sway.

There was no music, but he stayed on beat, slowly rocking and spinning as if you were dancing along and not...whatever this is. Well, whatever this was had to be the nicest thing you'd felt all day. John's energy had warmed his skin to a comfortable heat, and the gentle rocking motion was coaxing you further to sleep.

He continued to step carefully, keeping his hold tight and his chin firmly on your head. A part of your frustration eased, making way for that familiar rush of affection.

The movements stilled, and you realized how tightly you were clutching his arms.

A few moments passed as you stood, dead on your feet. The candles were burnt to melted stubs in their holders, and night had been glowing for a while.

"Is that all, Your Grace?" You wormed out of his hold, lamenting the loss of his firm warmth.

John looked at you, eyes so downturned and distraught you nearly cried. His arms hovered around where you'd been.

"Tuck me in?" His tone was joking, but his soft brown eyes begged. You shifted on your feet. You'd already done the damage, your heart whispered, skin still tingling from his hold.

Nodding, you pulled back his quilts and pulled them tight over his broad shoulders, gently arranging the furs to cover his long legs. Your eyes didn't meet his while you fussed, but you felt his warm gaze on your cheeks.

His long fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist.

"The mess," he said simply, and you bit your lip. What a mess it was.

"Apologies," he finished. You nodded quickly, pressing a palm to your eyes. His thumb stroked your wrist as you wept quietly, mind breaking at the idea of so much work.

You felt a tug at your sleeve. Sniffling, you looked over. John's eyes roved your face.

"This is new."

"Your mother wanted it," you whispered hoarsely. The dress rippled. "It's too small."

His lips twitched. "Nice things usually are."

The quiet was soothing now. John brought your palm to his cheek, pressing your delicate fingers to his stubbly jaw. You stroked his face, smiling wider when he preened at the attention.

"Tell me a story?"

Snorting, you knelt to his level and recited a children's tale. John begged for stories as a child, anything to push off bedtime. Your mother told stories when you were children. Fitting of you to take her place. He enjoyed them still, it seemed, lips slipping into a peaceful pout as you talked quietly.

His hand made its way to your hair, gently working out the intricate braids. You resisted a groan at the sensation, eyes flickering shut as tension melted from your scalp.

"Why do ladies keep their hair up if it is such an ordeal to undo?" he mused, stroking your locks. You mumbled a response, too absorbed in the heavenly feeling.

"Keep talking, birdie," he said, fingers kneading your head. You stumbled through the ending, fighting to stay awake. John's warm smell softened your focus. A brutal yawn interrupted your telling, prompting a small chuckle.

Story finished, you rose, but were tugged back down.

"The prince demands you stay," he murmured, smiling softly.

AHHH SORRY THIS IS SO LONG AND LATE AND AUGH

@krakenkitty @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m @lonelyisamyw-0love @unear7hly

[t00thpasteface]

Do your shoulders hurt? From single-handedly carrying the Hawkahy fandom for so long?

no, because seven months isn't all that long in the grand scheme of things, and it would be very wrong of me to act like i'm atlas carrying the weight of this ship when there were people posting hawkahy fic online while i was still in elementary school. i'm definitely not doing this singlehandedly; there's plenty of other brilliant, funny, and talented hawkahy fans drawing art, writing fic, and otherwise spreading the good word to keep the ball rolling. i mean, this isn't marcien or kingcade we're talking about here; i wasn't the first post in the hawkahy tag!

i really appreciate the sentiment, but i want to make it perfectly clear that i'm not in the rarepair game to get people throwing roses at my feet. i just go wherever the brainworms lead me and try to serve up some smiles along the way! rather than stroke my ego, i'd much rather see people channel their enthusiasm into their own creations and join me in the ball pit ☆~(ゝᴗ ∂)

[midnightkolrath]

Dante and his deeper layers I've noticed in the 2007 anime

I originally meant for this to be a WAY bigger dig/analysis, as I want to go episode by episode...but I decided to minimize it for now because this anime gives me brainworms so often, lmao.

So, lets get into this light dig of added bits for Dante's character from the anime and just how neat the anime is on what it covers.

Early on in the anime, there's parts of the anime where Patty unknowingly berates Dante about having a picture of his "girlfriend" on his desk, not knowing its actually his mother. Same episode, she talks to Dante about her own mother, and how much she wishes to meet her, after being orphaned for unknown reasons (We learn why later but you know).

And BOTH times, Dante doesn't respond, save for a quiet distant stares off into space or seemingly ignoring her. For the first case, he very much likely excuses it with the fact that she's just not aware of the truth of the picture but not outright scolding her over it.

Like...he doesn't snap or correct her or anything. He just remains quiet. And we know how much Dante loved his mom (his color palette even matches hers for gods' sake) and how he got when facing Trish in DMC1 (which this takes place after). Shows just how those events really changed him afterwards. Especially since this is also after he thought he killed Vergil with his own hands...which the anime VERY MUCH shows the depression he has. He's in it deep for alot of it.

Back to the second part of the Patty thing though, as much as he pretends he isn't listening or doesn't care, he very much WAS listening to her, as later in that episode, he easily figures out where she went (into a trap where a demon disguised itself as her mother to lure her) due to the poster she was gazing at which reminded her of her mother, and the discussion they had right before she ran off.

Like, this man may be the way he is and PRETEND he isn't paying attention to people sometimes, but like...no, when its important, he VERY MUCH is. Speaking of which...episode 3.

This is one of the fun parallel episodes where the situation reflects a part of Dante's life...such as when a demon falls in love with a human, who was originally supposed to serve his master. Obviously, a parallel to Sparda and Eva's relationship, Dante's parents.

Even when its found out that the guy is the target dante's supposed to be after, Dante literally takes time to hear him out and question him over his love for a human woman. Dante's the result of such a relationship, so it makes sense he'd stop to listen.

In the end, he decides to go against killing this demon, despite what his client wanted. He sees firsthand and knows that this is actually a couple in love. Like...he gets it. For obvious reasons, but he also MADE SURE it was a true love relationship. Pretty wholesome actually.

An obvious one if you've seen the instruments and jukebox in his office, but episode 6 adds on that Dante 'gets' music and how it can touch/relate to people. I think its a cute additional touch. :' )

I wanna dig into this episode more eventually, but its obviously music themed. And Dante hangs out as a bodyguard for some fellow music enjoyers. Just one of those nice further looks on the general work Dante does, which this anime does a great job in doing.

Episode 7 onward is where shit gets deep into more parallels and just the kind of guy Dante is, while going through it this whole series. Helping a spirit get laid to rest by pulling a prison break and rescuing her brother (Episode 7)...

Having his status as the son of sparda ending up getting someone originally close to him (Supposedly anyway, its implied that Dante grew up with this guy and was raised by the same mother figure...which Dante denies, but we know how he can be, and he was likely trying to protect him in a way) hurt and said person thrusting hate on him for it as that was why a whole village got burned down...and the guy originally believed and had genuine faith that it wasn't Dante's fault (Episode 8)...

Meeting students (who are brothers, one older and one younger) of his father, arguably bonding with one of them and having to put both down in the end (Episode 10), which can be seen as a cruel parallel to himself and Vergil...(And even going through the effort of respectfully setting a grave site together for them)

And the final episodes, 11 and 12, are the conclusion of the whole arc that was built up in the background...but its also a show of Dante and Patty's relationship becoming so close as she goes to personally save him after he was impaled by the big bad. Its a pay off for the growing bits of them spending time together from episode 1, and later a neat easter egg nod in DMC5 where Patty calls to invite him to her birthday party, showing they still very much keep in touch. (And the novel Before the Nightmare goes more into why, exactly, he actually didn't want to go, but we'll dive more into that later one day).

I'll likely more deeply elaborate about the anime one day, but like...there's a reason why its such a gem in the series. Short, but did great with the episodes it had. A treat for those who want to see more layers for Dante. Its so SO good.

Like you may or may not like the 'slice of life' parts, but its necessary for what they were going for, I think. I know I skipped a few things, but I hope I got the big highlights atleast. Go check out the first anime, its a pretty damn solid ride.

[blenselche]

Why do you ship finn/fern? I want to know what you see in it. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, I think rare ships and why people like them are interesting.

how can i not when the show literally

ok but forreal, this is long so I'm throwing it under a cut, my fern brainworm really got away from me here...

Finn and Fern's story at its most bare bones is: someone incredibly damaged by abandonment is torn in half and those halves abandon each other. Fern does it literally, Finn more so emotionally. Only when it's too late does one half try to rectify the situation, showing unending patience and unconditional love and being met with vitriol and avoidance. And then... acceptance, and with that acceptance is the ultimate abandonment: death. Tragic, hurts just right. Add onto that-- their relationship references The Green Knight and the Narcissus Myth. The Narcissus myth comes through loudly in CAWM especially. My fav of Ovid's Metamorphoses and all Greek mythology, so that's def a factor. My dad said I cried when he read it to me for the first time lmao.

I don't ship them during/in canon. In canon all I can see is something nebulous and one sided, and we don't need to read into subtext for that, we can just appreciate the show as it's written: Finn helps create this person that 100% gets him after being the odd one out his whole life, Fern's existence even soothes his abandonment issues with a curse that binds them together forever, but he clings too close and doesn't give Fern space, reminding him of how he falls short. Ultimately this want to be "even closer" (very smooth, Finn) is what drives them apart. It's good where it is, it's a great starting point for shipping.

Where I ship them is past canon, blowing subtext up into large print font to pull Fern out of plot device hell into his own character, piggy backing off what we know about the grass demon.

The grass demon/blade was not made to serve the powers of good, but it actively changes/curbs its behavior for the approval of its hero wielder. It helps Finn with anything that deeply emotionally moves him (holding on to Martin, building the tower) keeps him out of unneeded conflict (refusing to attack the vamp king) helps impress his romantic interest (flute spell) it even reverses his arm nullification twice. The grass demon keeps him safe but it goes above and beyond its purpose for Finn's happiness. It reluctantly joins the fight against Bandit Princess because that sword is still Finn, and when its blade pierces/breaks the quillion it even cocoons the Finn Sword's essence safely away. Though, no matter how much good it might do it is still a demon. It has no morals, and doesn't understand them, all it cares about is Finn's safety and well being. When one of Finn's loved ones hurts him it doesn't hesitate to protect him, but (of course) Finn retaliates-- and so it creates a Finn of its own, one that won't hurt it for trying to keep him safe and happy. (OOPS! that backfired.) I love the grass demon, I love what we can glean about it because of its actions through the show and what that could mean for Fern and Fern's feelings surrounding Finn. This is the foundations of the ship to me.

I like to ship them when Fern remembers all of this/what he is (a demon that basically consumed half of Finn's soul), has accepted himself and has integrated his two ego states. We don't need to do any legwork on Finn's end. Dude's already weird enough about Fern canonically, but I do like to build his guilt up until he's a mess on the floor, crying over his past mistake of assuming Fern needed saving in the first place (the thing that leads Finn to ignorantly prompting/assisting in his suicide), haunted by the words of Fern's time echo from the The Beginning of The End comic, never truly being able to trust if he's actually helping someone again.

I like to play in that space of au/hc: a demon and the man he's bound to/he shares a soul with who loves him unconditionally, reunited somehow (a wish, diverging from canon, Penelope and Fern's next incarnation finding one another, etc) and coming to terms with the baggage of all the shit they inflicted on one another. Then maybe Fern can finally hear Finn out without the cloud of festering insecurity when he tells him again how he'd still like to be "even closer".

At its simplest I like finn/fern because I love Fern, and finally accepting and seeing Finn as a completely different person (enough to engage in a relationship, whether sexual/romantic/queer platonic/something that no label fits because of what they are, whatever) speaks to an ultimate form of self actualization, and Fern really deserves to feel that level of "himself" imo.

Hope that was adequately interesting.

[rjshepherd]

so yall might have guessed by my late night dishonored posting but i got into the games recently and now i have brainworms.

anyways heres some art featuring spymaster daud, post lobotomy Jindosh, Lamb (but make her void spicy) and low chaos ending Outsider.

also have some headcanons below the cut

Pose refs by Mellon-soup

Daud

After fighting him in the flooded district, Corvo makes a deal with Daud to serve as spymaster as a sort of community service to the empire he's partially responsible for kneecapping.

No one is happy about this, least of all Daud.

But as an important lesson to Emily, sometimes you have to put your feelings aside for the good of the Empire. People are tools and it's up to her to use them properly. Daud quickly proves he really is the best man for the job.

Daud is constantly cold, even in serkonos. He seems to think this is because he is void touched but Corvo is the opposite, he metabolises like a house on fire.

Since he's always cold he's taken to wearing a lot of layers. This has the added benefit of padding his falls or protecting him from sword slashes.

When he came to work at dunwall tower, most of the whalers followed suit, watching from the rooftops for dauds command to take the place over. Only the order never came and with nothing else to do the whalers decide to join up.

Daud has an incredible sweet tooth but after losing so many teeth to that corrupted bone charm he decided he couldn't afford to lose more to cavities.

In his limited free time from his duties Daud enjoys playing with the castles wolf hounds.

Kirin Jindosh

After his impromptu electro lobotomy he was dazed and very confused for months but did eventually regain some of his intelligence.

Despite that he still struggles with his short term memory, coordination, tinnitus and sleepwalking.

Kirin also lost the sight in one of his eyes due to the high voltage of the machine damaging the vitreous of his eye.

His hand wasnt damaged by the shock but he replaced the entire thing to help with his tremors.

He spends most of his time now in wei-gon researching the insects that live in the countries unique flora.

The Outsider

After being freed by Billie she quickly realises she's not up for being someone's responsible adult and promptly delivers him to dunwall tower.

Developed a strange sort of sibling relationship with Emily.

He spends most of his time travelling and drawing. Would probably attract sokalovs attention had he not already left for tyvia.

Despite being disconnected from the void, he still has powers similar to the marked that he can use for traversal.

The scars from his fatal wounds weren't present when he left the void but developed over time.

He spends a lot of time with jindosh, drawing and the rest of the time in Morley with Lamb.

The little bag he's carrying with the whale patch was a gift from her. It contains all his art supplies.

Lamb

Transplanted lamb from bg3 world so I could have a DH oc lmao

She's part of an au with @je-suis-problematique . She's sort of a void creature who deals with souls. She's mostly hanging around observing things and the changeable nature of the void in low chaos Vs high chaos

Got kicked out of the void around dh1 by the envisioned for trying to help the outsider.

Landed pretty much smack dab in the middle of the flooded district, kinda got taken in by Daud and the whalers for a few months (read as: they couldn't get rid of her and she made good food so she got to stay)

By dh2 she is running an apothecary, traveling between the isles to acquire herbs and plants.

If the Overseers ask her eyes are a " medical condition"

I don't feel like expanding on it BC this au only appeals to me and my frendo but lamb has influence from the Kindred so I'm designing a Wolf for her as we speak

[stormbreaker101]

Music(ology) headcanons! Part 2

My friend @klaraflamez and I have been writing a shared story based upon the wizard101 AUs we made independently. Things go somewhat off the rails, and so these headcanons that we made for Music absolutely do not work for canon, which is part of why I'm making this post separate.

An overview of our AUs:

In both Corrupted Spiral (my AU) and the Cleaved AU (Klara's), the Spiral learned so heavily on its dependency upon its Wizard that it led to the Wizards' demises. In CS, before Arc 4 could properly begin, Nora lashed out in fury, sick of being Nothing but a title and weapon, and abandons the Spiral. In Cleaved, Scarlet was killed in the final fight of Lemuria, a 1v8, abandoned and alone because the Spiral assumed she would have handled it.

The main characters of the next generation after the two Wizards (~0-5 years after Nora's departure and 25 years after Scarlet's death) each realize that even though they're not The Wizard, they still have a duty to serve the good of the Spiral.

Overall there's a major theme of destiny and responsibility not falling on just one person's shoulders. The Wizard is not the only Paradox, and the primordial magics of Light, Shadow, and Music are no longer reserved for the Wizard and the gods. They become proper schools, integrated with the other ten (7 playable schools + 3 Astrals).

I've written and come up with spells for the Music school, as one of the characters I'm writing ends up as the Scion of Music, while Klara's writing the revamped Shadow and Light schools because her OCs become the Scions for those.

More details on Music as its own school in CCSAU (both lorewise and mechanicswise because i am gamerpilled), and all the spells themselves plus their explanations (where I derived inspiration from) are under the cut!

Music is the magic of creation. 'Outgoing' mechanics are the name of the game. It is a major hitter like Fire and Storm, but also has access to heals like the more defensive Life magic that came from the Song of Creation. Music's greatest weakness is that it is a major glass cannon, with no spells in its repertoire able to mitigate incoming damage.

The reason Music is tied to Fire and Storm alongside Life lorewise is because the Scion of Music first studied Fire and Storm magic alongside Musicology, before Music was its own school. Our Scion shaped Music as much as Music shaped him.

Now onto the spells themselves!

MAINLINE (primarily ATTACKING) SPELLS:

1 pip - Lyrebird - 90-130 damage. Based on the lyre instrument, and also a nod to Lyra, the fanon Music school tree in the Cleaved AU.

2 pip - Trombun - 220-260 damage. A pun on trombone and bunny.

3 pip - Earworm - 500 damage over 3 turns. Colloquially, earworms are catchy bits of song that just stay in your head and WON'T GET OUT, which is the inspiration for making this spell a pesky overtime. Also, taken from the Earworm/Brainworm mobs in Empyrea.

4 pip - Melodeer -  465-525, + 20% heal OR damage blade to self. Melody + deer. Here we begin to see some utility and niche poke its way into spells so that they're not plain and pure damage. Also, just to balance Music against the other 'hitter' schools a little bit more, it doesn't get a 4-pip AoE.

5 pip - Volta Bracken - 400 damage AND 400 health to self. A reference to volta brackets (an element in musical notation), with language nodding at Storm and Life magic (volt as in electricity, bracken as in a kind of plant). Yes this spell is an objectively better version of Beary Surprise. I hate Beary Surprise so much why is the bear both anthro and nude. why does he fucking smile like that. why can i see the whites of his eyes. WHY THE HUG?

6 pip - Resonance - 525-610 damage + remove all blades on 1 target. A single-target version of Myth's dreaded Earthquake.

7 pip - Horschestra - 700 damage to all enemies. Your classic 7-pip AOE. Horse + Orchestra, taken from a song in the Homestuck OST because it made me laugh tbh.

8 pip - Revivace - 1200 Heal to all allies. Name derived from Revive (synonym of Rebirth) and Vivace (musical mood). Meant to be a parallel to Life’s Rebirth spell, since Bartleby is the closest thing to a Music school tree in CS. However Rebirth gives an absorb-shield, which counts as temporary HP even if the spell heals someone to full, while Revivace has no extra defense.

9 pip - Crescendo! -  100 damage turn 1, then a DoT for 200, 300, then 400 damage, to all enemies. Crescendo is a musical term for "get gradually louder"

10 pip (Azteca) - Ceramic Drake - 1000 damage to 1 target, then 625 damage to all enemies over 3 rounds. The first of Music's spells that take on aesthetics derived from the world they're learned in. It takes inspiration from the tlapitzalli, an Aztec flute-like instrument made of ceramic.

5 pip + Shadow (Darkmoor) - Rehubution - 810 damage + 25% Music trap to all enemies. The spell's name comes from the word Retribution and the rehu, an instrument made by the Māori of Aotearoa. All of the canon Darkmoor spells are actually Khrysalis themed, and @chrono101 (now deactivated) made a really cool post about how the Hoppers had Aotearoan references that I remembered while coming up with this post. The effect in combat is derived from Fire from Above before it was nerfed and then slaughtered.

6 pip + Shadow (Polaris) - Luphilymn - 1260 damage, +1 turn to Damage over Times (DoTs) on enemy and +1 turn to Heal over Times (HoTs) on self. Luphilim + Hymn.

4 pip + Shadow (Mirage) - Spirit of the Groove - 900 damage, divided between targets (like all other Mirage spells). This spell is less a reference to something Miragian, and more a nod to a character who had a major impact on the Scion of Music's development. Ceramic Drake, Luphilhymn, and the upcoming spells of Ramalong and Jungle Drum Jam also are nods to characters that the Scion of Music was greatly supported by.

X-pip + Shadow (Karamelle) - Ramalong - 220 damage per pip. A blend of sing-along and the candy rams. This spell is an X-pip because there are a handful of songs/lullabies about counting sheep. Count your pips up!

6 pip + Shadow (Lemuria) - Jungle Drum Jam - 850 damage to all enemies, +40% Music blade AND +40% heal blade to self. Taken from this once-off moment in Lemuria where Bantam says that he and the Koolakamba just casually use advanced musicology for the sake of boogieing.

The effect is taken DIRECTLY from the far superior path of the Life Lemuria spell, Lord of the Jungle, before KI nerfed it to bits. I am so fucking mad about the nerf. I fucking liked having a decent shadow AoE on my Life and now it's useless again. <- had to get my gamer rage out sorry.

1 pip + Fire pip + Storm pip (Novus) - Tempo Inferno - 800 damage, gambit 1 blade into a DoT for 500 over 4 turns, gambit 1 trap into a HoT for 500 HP over 4 turns. Tempo refers to the speed of a musical piece, and both pieces of this spell's name are nods to Storm and Fire as well (Temp- for tempest, Storm's most iconic spell, Inferno for fire). This spell would also hold visual reference to that one sidequest about how clocks don't work on Novus.

1 pip + Death pip + Myth pip (Wallaru) - Crab Grave - 575 damage to all enemies. A reference to the extinct Juggernaut crabs of Wallaru, the still living Tasmanian giant crab, and the legendary Crab Rave meme. Given that all of the Wallaru spells' archmastery pips are the ones backwards from the Novus spells' pips, it made sense to make Crab Grave's pips the roshambo opposite to Tempo Inferno's. Myth is the roshambo opposite of Storm, and Death is the roshambo opposite of Fire. Don't believe me on Death and Fire? Look at how Balance's Novus gear has 3 variants that pair Ice-Life, Storm-Myth, and Fire-Death as its archschools. No I don't know why the Balance Wallaru spell is Death-Storm instead of Death-Fire I don't get it <- gamer raging again.

UTILITY SPELLS:

There are some utility spells that every school gets access to, simply changed per school: the basic Blade and Trap and Shield are simply named Music Blade, Music Trap, and Music Shield, because they're standardized for all the schools (Except Ice Shield, which is actually Snow Shield, for whatever reason?). Though, to put a wrinkle into things and keep with Music's theming as hyper-outgoing, Music Trap is the only ward spell (a spell that affects incoming damage rather than outgoing) that Music gets permanent access to. Music Shield would be TC only. Traps get special treatment because of Maulwurf von Trap existing. I like the guy don't @ me.

Then there's the utility spells that are just about the same for each school but with unique names. These include:

the 2 pip damage bubble - Circle of Fifths, after an important element in music theory. +25% damage to all outgoing Music spells AND +25% to all outgoing Music heals (the boost to healing alongside damage is unique to Music. Life gets Circle of Thorns (+25% damage) and Sanctuary (+60% healing) as two different bubbles.)

the 4-pip critical and pierce bubble - Acoustic Arena, +15% Music critical and +20% Music pierce.

the dispel - Mute

the Taunt/Pacify - Soloist, Taunts the enemy for 2 turns, making you the only target they can hit. Yes, having a glass cannon school gain taunt is a bit poor in game design, typically you want your glass cannons to have some form of Pacify so that they're not killed as quickly, but thematically Music becoming a loud center of attention makes more sense to me.

the complementary triad shield - Eclipse Shield, -70% incoming Light and Shadow damage. The parallel to Storm's Thermic Shield (-70% Fire and Ice) or Death's Dream Shield (-70% Life and Myth). Like Music Shield, because this spell is both a staple piece of utility that every school should have access to and a defensive ward that goes against Music's school identity, it would only exist as a treasure card.

The level 75 minion from The Professor - Baronness Webberfeld - 5 pips, summon a minion of Music. She is a reference to Baronness Elberfeld, a minor character from the Sound of Music. Because I had to get a reference to that in. Because I am normal about Maulwurf von Trap and his source media.

And then we get to the unique utility spells, the gimmicks that gives Music its identity in-game or give it thematic support.

Tune Up - 0 pips, +20% accuracy to the next outgoing Music spell. A parallel to Storm's Lightning Strike (which back in my day only gave +10% accuracy, not +25%). Music spells have a base accuracy of 70% like Storm, so the accuracy buff would be greatly needed at lower levels.

Bangsnap! - 2 pips, Confuse or stun each enemy for 1 turn.

Gurdy-hurdy - 3 pips, Confuse or stun each enemy for 2 turns.

Bangsnap and Gurdyhurdy go together, I'm thinking of them being from the Grizzleheim and Wintertusk spell quests at level 35 and 55. Bang snaps are small explosives that only release a loud sound but do no damage. Gurdy-hurdy is a reference to another in-game moment.

(The hurdy-gurdy, un-reversed, is a kind of musical instrument.)

And, yep! Myth is no longer the only school with the Confusion mechanic! Yippee! (I can hear the gamerbro players scream.) This is because before Music became a standalone school in CCSAU, Klara had the idea that, the way some Wizard101 spells are musicological despite not being in the school of Music, some Pirate101 abilities are inherently musicological as well, namely Blast of Discord.

And this is an ability that our Scion of Music was able to learn before Music became an independent school, so rather than take that ability away from him, we decided to incorporate it into Music's entire repertoire.

Leitmotif - 2 pips, 305 HP to 1 target, then 305 more HP 3 turns later. A leitmotif is a snippet of a musical melody that comes back later in a piece or in another piece (Toby Fox, one of my favorite composers, uses leitmotifs to the MAX.)

Sonatyr - 4 pip, 650 Health + 30% Healing Blade to all. Satyr + Sonata. Does less health than Life's Satyr because I don't want to completely upstage Life, but giving an extra blade to everyone is useful. It buffs every healer, and would count for any blade-based gambits/secondary effects.

Adagio - 1 pip, +1 turn to a HoT on an ally or to a DoT on an enemy. Adagio means for a piece of music to slow down.

Allegro - 1 pip, -1 turn to a HoT on an enemy or to a DoT on an ally. Allegro means for a piece of music to speed up.

Adagio and Allegro are spells that go together. If they were to be implemented in-game, I'd have them be learned at the same time. Having a spell that does different things depending on whether it's on an ally or enemy is really interesting to me, though it would be a pain in the ass to code.

Encore - 5 pips, force your target to cast the same spell for the next 2 turns. Encore, of course, means "to play again". Taken directly from Pokemon because why not?

Baton Pass - X pips, give your blades to an ally, universal and at half-value, (1 pip per blade). Also derived from Pokemon because why not? The half-value gimmick comes from Bantam's cheat of "I'll be taking that, thanks!" Where he replaces a blade you cast on someone else with a universal blade of half value. The devs intended that cheat to be annoying and discourage buffing one player to the max, but it's actually a REALLY HANDY mechanic when used correctly. The half-value blade would count as a unique blade that therefore stacks with whatever other blades your ally has.

Perfect Pitch - 1 pip, +20% accuracy to all allies. Perfect pitch is defined as the ability to tell exactly what note(s) a sound is without any reference. This spell would be copy-pasted over from Life, and also derived from the Pirate101 abilities Call to Arms and Esprit de Corps, which both boost your team's accuracy. (Esprit also gives dodge, a stat that I cannot find any way to translate into Wizard101 that wouldn't be a defensive ward, which Music does not do). The animations for those two powers feature musical instruments (a drum and a trumpet), which makes it feel very musicological to me and therefore fitting for Music itself.

Fortissimo! - 2 pips, +15% Critical chance to all allies. Fortissimo is music speak for "BE FUCKING LOUD!" This spell is derived from the Pirate101 abilities Discipline and Enduring Discipline, which (are supposed to) give +5% and +10% critical chance to all allies. (I have heard that the abilities that purely increase critical chance rather than another stat simply don't work because Pirate101's code is made out of silly string, but that's besides the point). There are very few spells that affect critical, so it's a niche that Music could fill in if it wanted to.

This probably isn't even enough utility, Wizard101 has a SURPRISING amount of spells it throws at you. It's such an in-depth game. I love it. I am normal about Wizard101.

Also, Klara was absolutely AMAZING and drew some of the spells!

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 53 - Goblintown

Goblins, spiders, and the necronomicon. Peachy.

On AO3.

The brainworms can mind-whammy some of the goblins so hard you pull a jedi “we absolutely do go here” shenanigan on them. The worm slams your brain into one of the archer goblins up top of one a them houses, and before you can even think about it, you feel her mind quiver, and then accept your power.

But then the brainworm does something. It twitches in your skull. The human brain ain’t got no nerve endings. It’s impossible to tell exactly what happens, but it’s like something in you winks out. A star in the galaxy of your brain just goes dark. Something alters. Something is gone.

And you can’t remember what.

“I knew these tadpoles could be advantageous,” Astarion says, all but rubbing his hands together in glee.

You rub the side of your head. Meet Lae’zel’s stare. She holds your gaze, and then deliberately narrows her eyes.

She knows. The brainworms can influence people. But there’s a cost. And you don’t even remember enough to know if it was worth it. It did get y’all past the gate without having to shoot somebody (oh look, more bodies lying around, even if they are mostly bones), but you don’t like it.

The goblins mention a camp further up the road. But y’all do a bit of poking around before y’all head that way (y’all are looting). In an herb shop, y’all find a basement. And a secret door inside that basement.

Which leads to a bunch of reanimated skeletons, some kind of magic mirror Karlach puts a rock through, and the apparent resting place of the motherfucking necronomicon.

You stare at the ugly damn thing as flames whoosh behind you. Damn thing went up like a gasoline barrel after you picked the thing up. Y’all’ve shut and re-locked the door behind y’all, and don’t appear to be anything around that’s flammable, so it should be able to blaze away. Besides, if an abandoned village serving as camp for a scouting party of war goblins goes up in flames, would anything of value actually be lost?

The book looks something nasty. You ain’t sure if somebody cut off the desiccated face of some boor bastard and glued it to the cover, or if that cover is some kinda, like, physical manifestation of a soul trapped between the pages (that thing is skin; it has fucking pores).

You nudge the lump in your cleavage where your soul jar sits.

“Oh, creepy book,” Karlach says, looming over your shoulder. “Please don’t open the creepy book. That thing must be loaded with curses.”

Magical Faerun. Of course there’s haunted books.

“I think it’s locked anyway,” you say. There ain’t no visible lock, neither.

“I could take it off your hands?” Gale says. “I am just about due for another artifact—”

“Don’t you dare.” Astarion swoops in from across the room. Catches your eye and looks away. “We have no idea how valuable something like that might be. It’d be a shame to let the wizard eat it.”

“As opposed to what?” Shadowheart says. “Letting you have it?”

“I don’t see why not. Unless any of you—the wizard excluded—would rather take it?”

“Destroying it seems the best option,” Wyll says.

To which Astarion literally gasps. Only thing the man is missing is a set of pearls to clutch.

And then they look at you, and you look at that book, and you can actually trace faint, dried out capillaries below the ridges of the upper mouth. Withered gums pulled back over yellowed teeth enamel. Holy fuck, that is somebody’s face.

You shudder. “Goblins, druid, brainworms. Divvy all this shit after that, huh?”

Literally none of them like the compromise, but nobody gets an advantage, so they watch you shove the haunted fucking book into your magic bag.

***

So Gale falls through the floor of the place across the street. Lands in another hidden workshop with another hidden passageway—this one just a crumbled wall. Which leads to a cave full of monster fucking spiders.

Y’all—mostly Karlach and Lae’zel—kill the shit outta the things (as big as a goddamn great dane sweet baby jesus). And y’all find more shit to loot. Turns out, other people fell down here or got dragged down here and didn’t have a Karlach or a Lae’zel. And then Astarion’s voice drifts back, all soft and high in a way you know in your bones means he’s up to some shit.

And then Wyll, who tagged after him to keep an eye out, mutters a curse and everybody turns.

Astarion has, in fact, found something interesting. And has, in fact, gotten to it. It’s the whole “chased by a fucking truck-sized motherfucker of a spider” part that’s the problem. So tired, acid-burned, poisoned, and in general overall maimed, y’all fight twenty-goddamned-more spiders and their goddamned Shelob mother.

What y’all get out of it is a purple, glowing rock.

You stare at Astarion, the grinning bastard, as green slime slides down the side of your neck and a glob plops off your nose. Around you are several squashed baby spiders, their guts oozing slowly down the shaft of your whacking stick.

“That’s…what this was all about,” you say.

Karlach is missing a patch of hair. Wyll lost his rapier down a crevasse. Somehow, one of them fuckers exploded and Lae’zel is literally covered in guts (y’all say nothing as she scowls, pops a slimy finger into her mouth, and seems to consider the taste).

Astarion is one hundred percent unscathed. Not a spot of muck, not a single singe of acid. Not even a stray gibblet in his stupid, poofy hair.

“It matches the gems on the book,” he says. “The eyes. I know my way around a lock or two, and this is the exact sort of thing a wizard—”

Said with a tone that makes Gale’s eyes narrow even further.

“—would go mad for. None of the others want it. So why not let me take it off your hands?”

That book craves the soul of the innocent. It really would be best to chuck it down that huge-ass chasm across the floor and be done with it. But…

You don’t owe the man nothing.

But the amputated connection of friendship still tingles with the phantom memory of late-night talks, his cool hands pressing your wrist.

I’d have bedded you twice by now if you were normal.

He’s a grown ass man two hundred years old, and a fucking vampire to boot. If he wants to play patty-cake with the exorcist, let him.

“Sure,” you say.

Astarion opens his mouth to argue. Then it clocks, and so do his teeth when his jaw snaps shut.

You dig the damned thing out, hold it pinched between your fingers.

“Are you sure about this?” Shadowheart says.

The vampire looks from the book, to you. The shadow of a frown mars his brow. Then he straightens. Says, “Really? Just like that?”

You’re sure you look as tired as you feel. “I don’t want it, nobody wants it, and we’re all covered in dead spider. At least make it worthwhile and take the damned thing. Just…don’t open it while anybody else is around?”

He eyes you. Reaches out and takes it all slow, like you’re gonna jerk it back. Or like it’s gonna bite him. You let it go.

“Right,” he says. And stands there. While you also stand there.

Man don’t know how to say thank you. Noted.

“Hey, Eleanor,” Wyll says. He’s over poking around the dead shelob, and he emerges holding some kinda dress. “I think this might suite you.”

***

It’s a robe, not a dress, and it magically adjusts itself over you, stays and all. It’s got embroidery to look like webbing, all of it a soft, silver mint green. And, it turns out, it makes you motherfucking poisonous.

“Be very careful with that staff,” Gale says.

Unlike a lot of the magic here, this one don’t make your staff glow a sickly green or nothing. So whoever you hit with the whacking end is gonna get real sick, real fast, and have no idea why.

You like it. Finally might not be so goddamn useless in combat. Plus, it looks kinda cool in an “evil sorcerer” way.

Karlach grins and makes you spin around. “Nice threads, soldier. Finally look like a proper adventurer.”

“Adventurer” meaning ren-faire attendee, but they’re all crushing it, and standing out ain’t probably a good idea. Just because you’re an uneducated (in Faerun), inexperienced hillbilly, it don’t mean you wanna advertise that.

The others mill about, chatting with each other, cleaning gear as best they can. Astarion has fucked off by himself again to peer at that book—still unopened thank fuck. He looks up, spots you watching, and shoves the book back into his pack. He ain’t mingling with the others no more.

Cause that ain’t awkward at all.

You rub your face.

And have a thought.

“This thing only makers that staff poisonous, right?” you say. Your hands kinda tingle.

“Oh yes,” Gale says. “Even mad wizards have enough sense not to poison themselves. Mostly.”

You stare. “Mostly?”

He smiles. And you really hope that tingle is just psychosomatic.

Spiders dead and looting done, y’all surface up through some well bucket (that bitch must be enchanted or something, cause there ain’t no way a dinky ass rope on a dinkier ass bucket could haul you up, let alone Karlach without bursting into flame).

There’s only one more home that ain’t a collapsed pile of rubble left. The spider fight wiped y’all out. It’d be nice to find somewhere to set up camp, maybe even sheltered from the elements. The goblins seem to be avoiding this one, which—in retrospect—should have been a big, red flag.

But y’all are beat, and survival instincts are freshly squeezed out, so y’all trudge on in to get smacked in the face by the reek of death, blood, and some kinda rancid piss.

And then the ogre takes a swing at you.

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[imagionationstation]

More tmnm posting because hehe

Karai gets to actually do shit!!! I can’t be the only one pissed about how the entire brain worm arc thing was handled and how they just forgot about her??

I miss the whole “I can’t let the rest of my family get their lives ruined because of me so I’ll handle it myself” thing

She, Shini, and Xever are MENACES to society though, and I think their trio is so fun because those three would spill tea and sing candy store and or meet the plastics

Karai didn’t do things?? I thought she did things.

She basically drove the plot for the entire series. The fam trying to save her is, at least, a subplot. I have a ton of favorite quotes that she delivered. She’s a big part in many of the episodes and often the major/minor driver of the arcs. Especially in the brainworm arc.

I’m sure you’re not alone, but I don’t relate.

SHREDDER DID WHAT

HER HANDS

I THOUGHT THAT MAN WANTED A DAUGHTER KUNOICHI?!

WHY WOULD HE DO THAT IF HE WANTED A WARRIOR TO SERVE IN HIS CRIMINAL EMPIRE. LIKE HE’S AWFUL I WOULDN’T PUT IT PAST HIM BUT WHAT THE HAY, DUDE!

Any respect that I had for the fact that he kinda-adopted Xever is down the drain. This man deserves to be crushed in a garbage truck.

I definitely think that a sugar&spice relationship should have been put in some kind of splotlight because Mikey was consistently on Leo’s side when it came to Karai but they never got any bonding time. Or, at least, not enough for a kiddo who is shown to practically love everyone, especially someone who’s his long-lost sister. Glad to see an AU utilizing a “what could have been” between them.

But you haven’t shown me any Shiiinniii.

How do I measure au her vs her in the series??

Appreciate the drawings!

[viperwhispered]

I don't know about you but I'm a huge fan of the "mage x tank" dynamic. Why? Because it can be combined with this!

Which is why I am here to declare that Jamil should have a buff s/o. And when I say buff, I mean strong enough to princess carry him and break the spine of anyone who dares harm him.

Picture Jamil, exhausted and overworked, being picked up like a potato sack and carried off the bed.

Of course this can't be a dumb himbo situation. Jamil aint really the type for airheads, not after years of trauma from Kalim. I mean someone who's crafty enough to keep Jamil on his toes and also strong enough to break bones. Best part being that the s/o is genuinely good person who prefers to talk things over only to go absolutely berserk when things involve Jamil.

The best part of this dynamic would be people assuming the s/o is more of a "pet" to Jamil than an equal. After all, they're calm, crafty, and tend to serve more as his conscience rather than go in guns blazing. That is until anyone dares become a legitimate threat to him. Then heads start rolling.

Oh imagine those poor innocent fools daring to insult the s/o, not realizing that Jamil is just as devoted and will pay them back 100 times. Either by poisoning, cursing, or manipulating them into ruining their lives.

GOD! Just this dynamic of both being extremely dangerous in very different ways but still equally as obsessed with each other is just *screams into pillow*

Brings me back to my OB!Jamil being a total malewife hot take. Picture this badass evil power couple being so mutually obsessed and in love with each other that they would bring an end to the world for one another.

Also the power trip Jamil gets cause this s/o could easily crush his head between their thighs and yet they still prefer bottoming.

Hasdfgh I first saw this just before going to bed and it gave me immediate brainworms (in a good way).

There's just so many juicy bits here. 

That post you linked? Yes, I've seen that before, and the way you describe this situation I could see it being applied both ways between these two (and both of them getting just as huffy about their partner being referred in such a manner while also yes absolutely ready to wreck havoc for each other)

Exhausted Jamil being picked up like a potato sack… Oh what an image. I love it. (Also the thought of him letting s/o do that without protest, either because he's too tired to even keep up appearances, or is willing to let them do that for him and be vulnerable himself…)

One of my “maybe I'll write this one day” fic thoughts involves a generally kind/patient reader getting all protectively angry over what Jamil's been gone through (it might or might not be a thinly veiled self-insert in disguise) and your ideas of the s/o losing their mind over threats to Jamil definitely resonate (am I the sort who always tries to see the best in people but is ready to fight anyone who hurts someone close to me? absolutely)

Evil power couple yes yes yes gimme (the corruption arc fully realized perhaps? Or just Jamil finding out just how far s/o is willing to for someone they care about (which probably would be a different kind of power trip for him - figuring out just what sort of lengths his s/o is willing to go to for him. He just might ascend being someone’s number one priority like that))

And that last line… Oh boy. There's so much to think about there and it's definitely not making me think of Jamil's head between my thighs not at all.

So basically yes to all this. Mind if I borrow that pillow for a moment?

Truly your mind with all these scenarios.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Using my emoji anon powers to sneak on here and tell you about a fic concept I'm perhaps working on (haven't decided but it's fun to talk about and you seem very kind and friendly so I will bestow my brainworms upon you)

It's basically a cod/xmen crossover idea. Tf141 needs some extra help because one of their Big Bads is working w mutants. Cue Laswell calling an old friend (because of course she is besties with Charles Xavier) who sends some of the xmen to lend a hand.

Shenanigans ensue...

I'm so sorry if this is annoying or something I just tend to get chatty on anon when I'm feeling out a new Fandom space.

- 🔪

I'M HONORED TO BE BESTOWED UPON WITH THE BRAIN WORMS, PLEASE DO IT MORE

ALSO NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR BEING ENTHUSIASTIC AND HAVING IDEAS AND AND AND AND!!!! YES.

Also I'm a huge Marvel fan (especially the MCU but I dabble in XMen too) and I am FASCINATED by that crossover idea

Pls tell me Logan is involved

Please

TELL ME

that Logan and Price are gonna talk and have the 'I've been a soldier for far too long' thing

and also he and Ghost just Get Each Other ™️ between the trauma and torture and basically coming back from the dead and-

and that Soap/Gaz are gonna be like "Oh yeah, I served." and they're like "Oh, Afghanistan?" and he's like "No. WW1 and WW2." and they're like

[divorcetual]

yoki being like dead but not dead is so interesting btw like . is he only alive because of the bug . hes stuck in a timeloop too . i love that u keep it vague but also somewhat like dropped a lot of hints and info because i feel like im putting red strings on a conspiracy board type of deal . why is pastex guving me brainworms (its from how enthusiastically u talk abt it) getting a good grade in hyping up friends ocs . something normal to want and maybe possible to achieve . what if i expldoe waoygh

HE GETS PUT IN TWO TIMELOOPS ACTUALLY !! the main one I have to keep a secret but the mini one is fine to talk abt

So yk how Koro is a ripoff of Rokos Basilisk? [<- for ppl who dont know it was a thought experiment where like. Imagine theres a benevolent AI that wants to ad has the capacity to give humanity a heaven on earth, BUT the catch is that anyone who knew abt the possibility of it and didnt start working on it qould be tortured for eternity] Well at one point Koro gets semi-completed and atp Yoki had defected from Koro (<- only took him 500 years....) so obv he was one of the ppl to be tortured.

WELL, Yoki gets trapped in the torture labyrinth (literally) and lives in a one-week loop. He's in it for what is to him about 300 years, which atp bevomes torture- there was no major trauma Yomi had that would effect him, not in the way Day and Ishawuu have at least. A major facet of Yoki's character is that he just deals with it. The REASON he got through the 100 years of being trapped under debris, the reason he continues to serve Koro despite no considerable reward for it, the reason he put up with everything is becaise he has shut himself off. He is a co soderably less emotional person than Day or Ish in the first place, so he has just. stopped caring about anything.

So unlike Ishawuu, with a clearly defined and debilitating fear, or Day, with a very prevolent trauma to go off of, Yoki couldn't me tortured like that. But the one thing that gets to him, the thing that turned him into the husk he is now, is isolation. Living in a very plain but clesrly looping world gets to you. It's almost another form of white room torture. There comes a time that theres just nothing keft for you to do but go insane.

[queenlua]

ugh religion/politics venting

* today i read the latest in the depressingly long series of incidents in the saga of, "the Southern Baptist Convention simping for the goddamn child molesters/enablers in their own church." i know i'm phrasing that in the maximally inflammatory way; i don't care. it's not like there's a whole fucking gross awful history here or anything

anyway i have felt bizarrely emotional about it, for someone who left that church over a decade ago and has no strong attachment to it otherwise. i guess it's like, i read that article and thought to myself "jfc, where are people even going nowadays, like, if your church's senior leadership sucks that much you gotta leave, right." and i was sort of tempted to call up some of my old church-y friends and ask "ok where are you going now," but... (1) hahaha a lot of my church-y friends left all churches whatsoever a long time ago, and (2) the ones who remain, like, i'm not close enough to them to ask, right? if i called them and randomly asked them intrusive questions about their Religious Organization Feelings, they would peg me as the obnoxious chick who left to go become a coastal liberal elite and now is being a dick to them. and i mean i wouldn't be trying to be a dick but i would be being awfully nosy and presumptuous, right

anyway, my wondering about that sent me down a whole rabbithole of "which congregations are actually growing in the US nowadays anyway," and while it's gratifying to see that the SBC shrinking, i don't exactly love the growth of pentecostalism in its place, right, seeing as "pentecostal brainworms" is at least partially responsible for like 50% of my trans friends getting kicked to the fucking curb by their parents the second they Deviated From The Script. so, y'know, fuck that

i did learn that the "free will baptist" denomination skews surprisingly young and, wow, what a kickass name for a denomination. i know nothing else about them but i hope they're as cool as the image in my head

...anyway, all that idle research didn't really do much to assuage how fucking weirdly furious i am over the SBC. like, i sincerely think the SBC mostly sucks and hasn't been redeemable pretty much ever, but it was also a cultural juggernaut in my youth, and one sort of hopes one's cultural juggernauts might find some way to reform into something humane, or at least fade away with grace. it's somehow secondhand humiliating and depressing to see it devolve into what i knew was always there at its core: gross old men power-tripping and protecting their own and never never never coming down on the side of anything that felt good and right in my heart of hearts

* unrelated but since i'm being unvirtuous and Politicsing On Main anyway:

every goddamn thing i've read out of netanyahu's mouth makes me want to punch his stupid face in until his skin is paste and the paste is mush and the mush is fine little bits of organic matter to feed the soil. and still the dude will not have suffered enough. not to be former-southern-baptist or anything but: i hope keeping your precious status & deliberately inflaming the most brainpoisoned rightoids in your nation & all that other shit is worth the fires of hell that await you after buddy!!!!

i don't have a Sophisticated Take on the israel/gaza stuff, but. at the end of the day i have cultivated a caveman's sense of morality, as a reaction to my tendency to over-intellectualize, and that caveman's sense of morality imo has served me pretty well, for instance: when The Big Guy is beating the everloving shit out of The Small Guy, the thing that is happening is fucked and i don't care who started it, it's gotta stop well before, i dunno, "bombing the shit out of a bunch of kids" for fucking starters. this works for an awful lot of Big Guy vs Small Guy scenarios. try it sometime

(i hate that i even remotely feel the urge to caveat it this way but to be clear: bibi & his homicidal campaign != judaism. judsaism rules, antisemitism is bullshit. but no more fucking more kids dying in a stupid campaign, ceasefirenow etc)