#this is one of my fave GOT realms

[annachum]

A collage of Yi Ti fashions in GOT Universe

Yi Ti has nods to Imperial China btw

Yi Ti is one of the oldest civillizations of GOT Universe, with dramatic Feudal histories, large armies, and boasting one of the largest populations in the GOT Universe

Yi Ti has had dramatic relations with multiple other Realms of Westeros and Essos over time - cold War like relations with Valyria in the Valyrian Empire times, often trade and socio political dramas with Dothraki Realms ( which has nods to Central Asia , Jogos Nghai ( which has nods to Ancient Mongolia ), Lhazar ( which has nods to Tibetan Plateau ), and soon embarked tremendous trading routes with Braavos.

In the 1st century BC, Yi Ti is in Han Dynasty. In HOTD ( which is set in 12th century ), Yi Ti is in Song Dynasty, and in the GOT series ( which is set in 15th century ), Yi Ti is in Ming Dynasty.

🤩🤩🤩😊😊😊

[ashennightingale]

imo good character-establishing things to have for pcs are like

- the usual why are they on this adventure, why are they w this group, etc

- what's one personality trait that drives them to do the stupid but fun thing

- what's one aspect that might make them act in ways contrary to how they do normally (including Not doing the stupid thing if it wouldn't be fun)

that last one is beneficial for the collaborative aspect of ttrpgs: if everyone else wants to do x, & as a player u wanna cooperate but ur pc would be opposed, how can u navigate that? there's still times to dig ur heels in, but often I've found more value in establishing Why or How my character can be convinced to go along w smth anyway

also just. ppl contradict themselves sometimes, & having even a simple sense of that in ur pcs can both make rp richer & assist in collaborating w the other ppl at ur table

[glupblorbo]

HOLY HELL IM SCREAMING THESE ARE SO AHHHH im sobbinf these are. so so so great im. oh my fuckkkkkkk im literally yelling im so excited i scared my dog LMAO

i just. LOVE your art style omfg and you draw samah so cute and hunter HUNTER ohhh my fuck. dude's expression in the scene with samah before and then. after. omfgggggg OMFG. its killing me. and. his expression mirroring that when flapjack chooses him i'm. it's literally exactly how i pictured that breakdown lmao it's PERFECT like ohhhhh my fuck oh my fuck. it's just....so so so good.

thank you so SO fucking much for this i genuinely teared up seeing the notification preview and like ,,,,,,i'm so so glad that you've been loving it so far!!! it means so much to me that this silly goofy brainrot fic has connected to so many people and that others enjoy this world i've been using to put hunter through it lmao <3

I just binge-read saw the devil walking in the daylight (but he didn't see me) on AO3 by @glupblorbo and had to very quickly doodle some scenes from chapters 10 and 15 because holy crap if it didn't completely possess my brain for the past few hours please go read it, it's so good

[empty-movement]

Chiho Saito’s 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection

IT’S HERE. IT’S DONE. IT’S FINISHED. NOW…IT’S YOURS. Happy Holidays, my friends.

Vanna here! I have posted some already about this project, and the responses I got, public and otherwise, have been absolutely incredible. Y’all have been reblogging and hyping this before it even finished…I haven’t felt so encouraged about an Utena project since the musicals! (Yes, streams soon, I promise.) You can read the other post to get more details, and catch my post here with more details about the process if you’re interested. The long and short of it?

This is the first artbook I ever scanned. I did it in 2001. In Photoshop, using multiple scans per page that took hours to process. But it was 2001. A half megabyte file that was 1250px wide was considered extremely hardcore and impressive. That’s just always been the business I’m in when it comes to Utena art, you know? 

It’s now the latest artbook I’ve scanned, and so much of the process, and effort involved, is unchanged. What has changed, is the result. Welcome to your new desktop background. Your new phone background. Your new poster print. 

What I’ve done here is attempt to create definitive digitized images of Chiho Saito’s work as offered by this book--I have removed the print moiré of the original scans, and used my literal decades of experience to try and tease out as much information from them as possible. Without being physically in front of the original artwork (which is a thing I’ve had the great fortune to get to do) this is The Most Chiho Saito you are ever going to get. I’ve tried my best to make sure there is a way to get it that works for everyone:

Do you just wanna scope 'em out? Look at some disaster gays? Grab your favorite one or two? This is the path for you! Check out the ‘compressed’ (not very) 10k ‘web friendly’ (not really) copy at the Bibliothèque, the media archiving wing of the Something Eternal forums at Empty Movement*. All the following links are also available from here. Do you want these copies? All of them? Don't just grab them individually, friend. This batch is 375MB and can be downloaded as a zip of the individual files here on our Google Drive.

Do you like digital archiving? Are you looking for a copy that preserves the archival quality of the effort but sits nice and comfy in a single file? This is for you. A minimally compressed 10k, 513MB version worked into a PDF is now up, shiny and chrome, on the Internet Archive. Do you like the idea of the minimal compression, but want the individual files in a zip? Yep I did that too, here's the drive link.

Are you looking to print these in a larger size? This is probably the only reason on Earth you’d ever want them, and yet a bunch of you are going to go straight for these. Here are the zero-compression JPG full size copies, most of them are 15k across, like simply a ridiculous size. Pick your fave and download it from our Google Drive! 

I am genuinely really proud of this work.** I was able to tease out so much new detail from these…her incredible layering techniques, the faintest brush of her highlights, and the full range of her delicate hand at whites and blacks… details commonly lost in digitization. I sincerely hope you find something here that you’re looking for, as an artist looking for inspiration, as a weeb looking for a desktop, as an archiver excited to see incredible 90s manga artwork saved forever in the digital realm. I feel like I have already said so much about them, and could keep going, but you know what? This work speaks for itself. Enjoy, use, explore, and definitely tell us what you think!

We love y’all. ~ Vanna & Yasha

* AHEM ASTERISK AHEM

You might be wondering what any of that is. Something Eternal? Biblewhatawhat??? EmptyMovement.com? You might even have done a double take at the word ‘forum.’ And you should!!!

I have a confession. This artbook was my ‘side project’ as I worked on this, *the main project.* For a couple years I’ve been banging around with a new domain, and originally I had other plans for it, but Elon Musk ruined my Twitter and Discord is well along on its way to enshittification, and well….we joke on the Discord a lot about ‘reject modernity, embrace forums’ and you know what? We’re right. So Yasha and I are putting our money where our mouths are once again, and doing something insane. We are launching, in 2023, a website forum. Obviously, this is not the official ‘launch’ per se, but I cannot announce the artbook without directing you to the forum, since it sits on the attached very cool gallery system. Oops! Told on myself. Another post more focused on the forum will be forthcoming, but if you are just that motivated to get in right away, you absolutely can! (This will help stagger new arrivals anyway, which is good for us!) If you would rather wait for the ‘official’ launch, by all means that’s coming, including a lengthy screed about how and why we’re doing this. In either case, remember: this is a couple weebs trying to make internet magic happen, we are not website developers by trade. Give us grace as we iron things out and grow into this cool new website thingie…hopefully along with some of you! :D

If you do join up, naturally, there is a thread about this project!

** If you like this kind of content, consider helping us pay for it! We do have a Patreon! If you’re wanting to use these in some public-facing distributive way, all we ask is for credit back to Empty Movement (ohtori.nu or emptymovement.com, either will work.) 

I would like to say ‘don’t just slap these files on RedBubble to get easy money’ but I know that saying this won’t effectively prevent it. Y’all that do that suck, but you’re not worth letting it rain on the rest of this parade. :)

[grace-williams-xo]

RAMBLING THOUGHTS AFTER FINISHING PART TWO. GONNA ADDRESS MY P1 THOUGHTS FIRST. SPOILER WARNING.

1 & 2: I think Debling could’ve worked in the second half, and I’m kinda sad Cressida didn’t get a happy ending. The Creloise fell of a CLIFF after ep 5 but I think it could still be saved

5: no cishet man has ever loved his wife more than Anthony Bridgerton I’m gonna be ill

6 & 12: kanthony’s absence was felt BAD in the finale, I think their reactions to LW were sorely needed. Also Jonny and Simone have both said they’ll be at every sibling’s wedding and stick around for years but they missed Francesca’s??? Also felt their absence too much then. They’re both booked and busy I think we’ll continue to only get a couple episodes a season from them

8: Francesca did get to thrive happy in pt 2 my baby I love her

9: I think they managed to disconnect the mondrich plot even further like 😭 once again, I don’t mind them their plot just feels very empty

10: Pen and Delacroix CONTINUE to be my fave duo I love them so freaking much and they can never get rid of it

13: Portia’s growth this season continued to be 10/10 I loved her and Penelope’s relationship it really showed what it’s like to be closely related to people you oppose and the process of needing to forgive and understand them for your own peace of mind

14: that was not how I was expecting Colin to find out about Whistledown

15: Marcus felt a little rushed in part two but I think I need to watch the whole season together to fully decide

17: this was indeed the longest 27 days of my life I got Covid day after it dropped lmfao

MY ~NEW~ THOUGHTS:

We finally got character development from Cressida and if they write her out I’ll be inconsolable (as will Jessica Madsen)

I hope they paid Golda Rosheuvel good for her feet exposure. Worth more than titties in this economy

I feel the need to tell everyone that £5000 in 1815 is in the realm of £500,000 today and we cannot brush over the fact Penelope has made herself the equivalent of a literal millionaire

Anthony has two moods ‘I’m obsessed with my wife’ ‘I want to win this game’ like it is comical how drastically different his facial expression is in the game of charades compared to pretty much every other scene

Anthony saying the marriage is perfect and not hard work and Kate being like BOY I will humble you,,,, doing the lord’s work I love her so much

At some points I felt like Francesca was fighting Anthony for ‘Violet’s least favourite child’ award lmao

John saying he’s off to look at the wainscotting was unfairly funny

Cressida in the red dress is even better than I imagined fuck even if she’s not gay then I am

Peneloise back together the universe is healing I love my babies all we need now is creloise lovers and peneloise friendship simultaneously I don’t like it being one or the other sue me

However much Brimsley is getting paid isn’t enough,,,, Hugh Sachs the man that you are

I adored Penelope’s wedding dress so much and as bitter as I am still about no kanthony wedding in s2, it felt kind of right somehow for Polin to be the first wedding we properly see in this show

Most of the costumes and makeup feel like they got worse,,,,, big ‘I hired a 14 year old’ energy. I don’t need historical accuracy but I would like a modicum of care and the costume/hair/makeup dept looking at a single historical reference from before 1850,,,, please

We all got the bi Benedict we’ve been asking for and I appreciate it, and recognise that he needed Tilley to explore that, but I still would’ve preferred if they first main queer experience was not a threesome

If they go straight into benophie in s4 (which idk, I’m so torn bc I feel like F, E and B all could work well next season) then I also feel like bi Benedict was just them throwing a bone for 5 mins but meant nothing

The CONTENTIOUS Michaela Stirling,,,,, I was undecided until I saw it but that was the definition of gay panic from Francesca and it worked so well I am so excited.

As your resident peerage expert, it is much easier for women to inherit titles in Scotland than England so I wonder (not that anyone on this show knows anything) if that was a reason they chose Francesca to be sapphic [general peerage info and female inheritance info if you care]

On the above, if they can canonically end racism with one marriage then they can end homophobia with one marriage as well

We all know Eloise was the easy and obvious choice to be the queer love story but part of me does kind of like them not taking the easy route, and them going something more unexpected, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want Creloise/Sapphic El like they had eight children let’s be honest

Finch’s sneeze and Phillips’s “now Varely! The bugs!” were unfairly funny

Everything Lady Danbury said to Penelope about suspecting her and what not felt very in character and you can fight with the wall idc

Did they tell us the name of Polin’s baby boy???

Hyacinth saying she thinks of Gregory as the family pet,,,,, girl you an icon walking amongst mere mortals

Predictions I got right:

Anthony didn’t kill Colin, but “are you gonna duel your own brother” lmao I was on the right track

I knew Polin would win the Featherington baby race and I love that for them (but why were Prudence and Phillipa pregnant most of the season, barely showing, Kate was showing almost immediately, and then in the epilogue the sisters all had baby’s similar-ish ages???? Give the writers room a calendar please)

I SAID FROM DAY DOT THAT THE FURNITURE THEY BROKE FROM SEX WAS A CHAISE I CANT FIND THE POST BUT I KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW IT WHERE DO I COLLECT MY PRIZE SOME OF YOUR GUESSES WERE TRULY FUCKING COOKED

Okay that was too long if you made it this far I’ll make you cookie ily

[zevrra]

Ooooo what about domestic Sukuna HCs? Or even general for him! He's my fave, little cannibal pookie 💖

-🐈‍⬛

tbh sukuna isn’t one of my favs so i’ve never really thought about it i guess! but also personally i just don’t see him living a domestic life within the actual realm of the jjk setting buuuuuut!!!!

if you don’t mind something based in a modern AU setting then!!

sukuna is 100% a tattoo artist and is still covered in all of his black line tattoos!

modern!sukuna who either wears BAGGYYYYY clothes 24/7 or the tightest fits he can manage to squeeze into

works out constantly

listens to a mix of deftones, sleep token, and istg probably any and all kpop

piercings galore!

his nipples are pierced

out of all of his piercings he 100% has a tongue piercing and shows it off any chance he gets

paints his nails

still a little bit of an ass but it’s more of the “i’m annoying bc i don’t want to admit i like you” type

rolls his eyes when he has to give you his hoodie

has only one pet and it’s probably a goldfish pfft

will never admit he makes excuses just to hang out with you

“what? all i asked is if you wanna go on a walk with my pet fish and i. it’s whatever if you don’t”

could def see him being in a band too (either the drummer or guitarist!)

i also think at first he wanted nothing to do with you but then started having several dreams about you and ended up just “i have to talk to them now”

when you two finally get together, he probably loves sketching on your hand or arm with a pen

i also don’t think he has ever planned a single date idk why LOL i just feel like he goes with the flow? doesn’t plan things just drags ya along

serial hair dyer like will dye his hair at any minor inconvenience

loves to go shopping but HATES actually having to pay for stuff

would steal if you asked him to do so

also i can’t decide if he’s either the biggest dork/nerd ever who enjoys doing chemistry or math OR he’s actually the biggest idiot EVER idk it could go either way skhsskjsjhs

well that’s all i’ve got for right now!! if you would like more or agree/disagree let me know! thanks for requesting :3

[thegirlwhowatchedeverything]

Pete In S3

(previous post: Pete In S1 and S2)

There's not enough screen time for Pete in S3 (a sad reality for many of our faves due to Cl*ire), but I love he was frequently referenced - a constant offscreen presence which mirrors how much of a reliable partner he is to Nat and the most loyal and psyched to be an honorary Berzatto. Since we still don't know his last name, my unserious head canon is that he took Nat's last name because he was so psyched to marry Nat and be part of her family. I mean we got Cl*ire's last name before Pete's so it's not out of the realm of possibility. Another head canon that I've had since S1 is that Pete's an only child affected to the Berzatto family. Like Syd and Richie canonically, I suspect cousin Stevie based on his I don't have family like this in 2x6, and apparently now Marcus because the writers retconned the brother he mentioned in S2 during S3?

Nat and Carmy simultaneously remind Syd Pete's a lawyer who can look over the partnership agreement for her in 3x2.

Nat knows the meaning of Philosopher's Walk in Kyoto because Pete's a Friedkan fan like Richie in 3x4.

Nat knows violets are the state flower of Illinois because Pete loves flowers in 3x5.

Nat respects Computer specifically because he's one of the few who is nice to Pete 3x5.

Though Nat confesses she's scared Pete might leave her one day (and the overall insecurities she developed in childhood because of her mom), we know he never would. He proves he's her ultimate partner by turning the tables in asking Nat if she's okay instead of her having to ask as she's done her whole life in 3x8.

He and Syd in 3x9 - give me more of these two in S4! They are two of the kindest, most thoughtful characters. Him just fully not knowing how cooking food works, but it coming from a place of not wanting to wake his wife and newborn. Him thanking Syd for making Nat's favorite burnt edges lasagne (also Syd knowing that's Nat's favorite AND taking the time to cook food for her in laws not partner's family, including her pasta and bolognese from 2x2). His response to Syd asking how he's feeling as a new dad: I'm just so grateful. It reminded me of his Thank you for letting me be a part of this family in 1x4. And his words are reinforced by him wearing a Beef t shirt. And him ofc doing what Nat asks by reading over the partnership agreement and sharing the terms for the first time with us and Syd.

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Kung Fu Panda 4 Review

Ok, I saw the movie yesterday and I have some thoughts. I think the film is good, but no where near the level of the first two. It's more like the third tonally. But tbf, nothing can top the second film in my opinion. KFP 2 really stepped up in its depth both in terms of its villain and message. The fourth film is very much the opposite. It's also very predictable and you can easily figure out what was gonna happen pretty early on.

What I liked: the animation is still gorgeous. Seriously, there were some very visually pleasing shots. The character models all looked great and I thought it was cool how the villain still has scales when she transforms. The music is also really nice and fun to listen to. The voice acting was also good and I thought Awkafina did a good job (major step up from Scuttle).

Po's dads were also really fun when on screen. It's nice to see them bond over Po and they do work well off of each other. They were the best part of the film, animation aside. The villain is also pretty cool with her abilities. We will talk about her more in a bit. And I did like Zhen and I'm looking forward to see what they do with her in the future. She's energetic and I did like her design.

What I didn't like: too. much. comedy. Ok look, I know this is an animated film for kids, but what made the first three films (particularly the second one) so good is that the balanced the jokes with depth. This film does have some messages, but it's intercut with so many jokes during dialogue that it takes away from it. They really needed to let this film breathe and have more serious moments to just talk and let things sink in. The villain brought back the old villains and stole their abilities (this was in trailer so not really spoiler). Why don't they do more with that? There is so much untapped potential here.

And that's my other big issue with the film: so much potential. Some of the ideas in this film are really, really good, but they only scratch the surface with it. I wanted to know more about the villain. I wanted to see our fave villains interact more. I wanted to see the villain use her powers more. But we don't get that; we only get the bare minimum. In simpler terms, there's no big "wow!" moment that the other films had.

Spoilers below (tread carefully)

Why did they bring the villains back if they were going to do almost nothing with them? The climax of the film was the Chameleon stealing the villains' abilities and fighting Po but we pretty much saw that in the trailer. Tai Lung gets to do some stuff, but I wanted more. Half of his lines were jokes anyway and I didn't vibe with it. Why did they bring him back if he was just gonna comment on things? I don't remember our favorite snow leopard being this comical. He did quip, but there was still a hardened edge to him. Idk. Maybe he got therapy in the spirit realm. Shen and Kai get crumbs, but again, they could've done so much more. And wasn't Kai destroyed completely?

With Shen and Tai Lung, I would've wanted to see more. I'm glad Tai Lung did finally come to respect Po and it does make sense. But Shen? The last time we saw him he rejected Po's help. Unless he too got the same spirit realm therapy Tai Lung did, him bowing to Po does feel very OOC. Nitpicking further, why was Shen brought back anyway? The Chameleon presumably doesn't know who Po is and Shen isn't a kung fu master. With the exception of the fanservice route, this choice only makes sense if the Chameleon was aware of Shen's actions in Gongmen and thought his level of evil would fit her vibe.

Nitpicking aside, there was so much opportunity for Po to confront his villains again and have a deep, serious moment with them. Whether either side likes it or not, they're reunited for a short amount of time. Why not capitalize on this great opportunity?

Speaking of the villain, so much untapped potential. Her design is great, her abilities are really cool, and Viola Davis does a good job voicing her. So why doesn't she get to do more? Imagine a really cool fight sequence where Po confronts her, but she shifts so much that it begins to mess with his head. Or she transforms into the older villains and Po is caught off guard? Instead, we get half the climax spoiled for us in the trailer. What was really cool about the other three was that we got multiple fight scenes with them to showcase their abilities. Thus, the final battle dialed it up to an 11 and we got a truly epic finale. Here, it feels like there should've been more, but there wasn't. Even her backstory feels lacking. It's there... but only surface level. Even Shen, arguably the cruelest of them all, had nuance and depth.

Also, why couldn't we get more of the Furious Five outside of a glorified cameo? Tigress and Po friendship is truly amazing.

As much as the jokes miss, there are some good bits. Shifu trying to deal with Po's shenanigans always crack me up. I also like the bit where Po tries to meditate and his thoughts get in the way. Because hey guess what, that's what my head is like and it's really freaking hard to quiet it down. So, there's that. I just wish the writers didn't feel like they had to insert jokes in almost every line of dialogue, you know? Li and Ping dad adventures are great except half the lines are jokes about how worried they are for Po or how not tough they are. Why not have a deeper conversation? I think it would make everything feel more natural.

I also wish Po himself was a tad more mature. I'm not expecting Shifu or Tigress levels of seriousness, but I felt that he kinda was a bit too childish. Po is one of those characters who loves to have fun, but knows when he has to be serious. However, he also likes to lighten things up with comedy. In this movie, it felt like he only really leaned into the comedy side of things. He had his moments, but I'll be honest, I really missed the "the only thing that matters is what you choose to be now" levels of dialogue. The proverb joke got old real fast, ok?

Grace Randolph from Beyond the Trailer described this movie as episodic and I can see it. The story bits are very segmented between the villain, heroes, and Po's dads. The flow and pacing of this film really needed to be upgraded.

Ok, that's all I got for now. I'm sure I'll think of something else to say (aside from encouraging everyone to rewatch KFP 2 because I'll never get enough of that film).

[majorproblems77]

Sacred Realm updated which means im actually so excited to be making this omg

Hi there Sacred Realm fans! :D

It is I, the one who makes the analysis posts on various comics on the internet. (With permission course) Because I love doing them and they bring me joy.

If you are unaware of what Sacred Realm is, it's a Legend of Zelda AU about a new Link who gets a little medallion that makes him a badass, also it can hold the spirits of heroes from across the realms (Including my fave boy ever okay)

Before I begin, I'll get the important stuff done, This is done with permission from @zelda-the-sacred-realm, and all art from the comics belongs to the comic artist. Please do me a favour and go and check it out because it's a wonderful comic and extremely well-drawn and written.

Now, grab some popcorn, and a drink and please enjoy me rambling about a comic that I enjoy so much. :D

Lets begin!

First, some sass

Damn, possessed Link got a mouth on him. Low key I love him, he looks like he could go for round two like right now. Wouldn't be surprised if he went for the hero of time next.

My eyebrows shot up at this.

Time KNOW's

let me repeat that

TIME KNOWS. HE KNOWS WHATEVER IS IN THE MEDALLION CAUSING THIS.

(More on this later)

He knows he knows he knows he knows he knows

I can hear the mocking voice of Link while he is saying this. Time has experience with this particular entity before.

Okay, so here is when it gets interesting.

Possessed Link or this entity I suppose, referring to Time and in turn Hylians as 'Your Race' Tells me a couple of things.

This thing in the medallion isn't a Hylian spirit. So as much and as fun as a dark link theory is, I dont think it could be.

Time arguing that we're not perfect, again referring to Hylians sounds very much like an "I'm speaking with a god speech"

I present my theory on what is in the medallion.

An extra spirit, a god of some description, from the spirit realm. Out to get revenge on Hylians.

Time has been to the spirit realm, in his games. (I am under the assumption that those still occur in this canon please do correct me if I'm wrong here.)

I'm convinced that this thing in the medallion is a deity of some kind because of the eye colour. I can't get over it.

This style of blue, with no pupils.

We've seen it before.

On Hylia.

From Chapter 2 fate PT2

And here is the first time we see it on Link for comparison, With Sky's alongside him for comparison for what Hylian eyes look like.

From Chapter 2 Fate PT3

The colour isn't exact so it can't be Hylia herself I dont think, but, i believe that there is a spirit trying to escape the sacred realm and is using Link to do it.

Okay, enough of my conspiracy theories moving on!

Link you gotta wake up!

Sky thinks so, I love the coloured speech bubble, what a good idea.

OH BOY I LOVE THESE PANELS

You know those scenes in video games when you're fighting off something that's trying to possess you and you have that ominous-sounding echo that seems to reverberate through your head. But is also muffled at the same time?

(If I find a game example I'll link it)

This. Put that noise you think off over this.

KICK ITS BUTT LINK GET IT, GET BACK IN HERE.

These five panels tell so much when it comes to how much effort Link has to go through to fight off the medallion possession. I wonder if its going to be easier or harder for him to fight it off as he gains spirits in the medallion.

You can really feel his struggle and I just love it. The visual storytelling is incredible in this comic and I will fan girl about it all day because I just love it so much

I'm thinking he says this to gauge just how bad this possession is. time seems like the guy who would, especially as he already seems to know what this is.

I wonder if he really is the hero of realms?

Yes, Time. Yes, he is.

The face he dosent remember any time he's possessed by the medallion is a little worrying.

Makes me think that could be used later.

Like, Link dosent remember fighting this ice comet now. What if he fights an enemy while possessed, breaks the possession then has to relearn how to defeat it because as possessed link he's not gained any information.

Man Link is a cinnamon roll sometimes and I love him dearly okay.

Alrighty, thats me finished with my rambling. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this! And thanks again to @zelda-the-sacred-realm for the permission to do these i really appreciate it.

Please please go and check out the rest of the comic if you haven't it's amazing :D

Thats me finished for this chapter, so I'll be headed out!

Hope you have a wonderful day! :D

[xiulric]

On SV fics and jin lan city AU fanfics

Jin lan city is one of my fave arcs in SV bc we have all this wonderful tension coming to a head. Sqq's devotion to binghe turned over its head, into fear and animosity

meanwhile binghe laboriously built himself up, meticulously planned and manipulated his way into a favorable political position both in the demon realm and as a huan hua disciple

despite his anger and resentment. he thinks this will prove to shizun that hes still valuable. bc xin mo digs its claws into binghes insecurity: sqq either rejected him bc of his demon heritage, or worse. sqq found him unlovable, the person who knew him best, saw the core of who he is, found him insufficient

hell. maybe this was a long con years in the making, sqq hated him since they met, and then only pretended to be nice to binghe so that sqqs betrayal would hurt more

and all this planning bites him in the ass!!!! it makes shizun resent him more!!!

some fics make the mistake of dissolving this tension too early. for the sake of speeding up the bingqiu cuddles

and like i think thats a waste bc those same misunderstandings, when resolved with good storytelling, lead to a satisfying conclusion that makes bingqiu feel deeper, with a stronger connection ! 

so anyway theres so many ways the jin lan meeting post abyss couldve gone. RIPE with potential for a variety of fun fanfic scenarios!!!

ive seen truth serum jin lan city aus, or obedience spell aus. even ones where sqq forces a soul connection so binghe. cant kill him without hurting himself

point is!! SO MANY OPTIONS

but my absolute favourite jin lan city aus, the most ironic, juicy, and hardest to execute imo :

aus where Binghe realizes something baffling about his shizun. the key to successfully manipulating SQQ and resolving this post-abyss misunderstanding.

its not through demonic power, prestige, manners or huan hua palace.

it's by binghe showing the most unlovable, weak side of himself. that makes sqq crumble like wet tissue paper IN AN INSTANT

if binghe in jin lan city cries, if hes hurt or sick, sqq will be there to help him immediately despite sqqs fear of binghe

sqq is so so weak to white lotus binghe that he would risk getting mauled by the demon emperor. bc he cant hold back his own need to coddle binghe

a sub point to this same weakness sqq has; jin lan aus where binghe pushes the limit of "how far will shizun go to pamper me?"

that one is tricky bc. it can sound OOC if written without believable buildup

disciple white lotus binghe is aware that sqq favours him; sqq vastly prefers binghes cooking over any other food. sqq got without-a-cure for binghes sake. binghe is head disciple.

but its not always that binghe realizes how FAR sqq would go to coddle binghe, and worse, sqq justifies it and lies to himself about it. "its only what binghe is owed! hes the protagonist! this world was built for him!"

so in some delicious jin lan aus, binghe goes; ok ok. shizun hates me now. but when i hug him.. he doesnt push me away? when i kill all the sowers, and jin lan proclaims me a hero, and i ask for shizuns hand in marriage... he doesnt DENY it to me??

shizun doesnt look happy. but he goes along willingly!?!?!?  WHAT IS GOING ON

basically it leads to more misunderstandings before a resolution BUT ITS SO JUICY!? SQQ's love for binghe vs his lying to himself about loving binghe! a truth he can hardly admit in the privacy of his mind !

and binghes confusion blending with his delight and the stinging betrayal of 3 years ago!!! CHEFS KISS

example below of this dynamic; from Sadie Hawkins fic by X_los

[r3dkn0ts]

I'm somewhat curious because everyone has their own perception of killers in dbd before they came into the realm. Out of all your faves (like Caleb, Tarhos, Billy ect..) do you think any of them are still....well virgins?? Most of them were either too focused on revenge and bloodshed to even think about ass or coochie (lookin right at you slinger also I LOVE UR BLOG SM)

I have other stuff in the drafts I'm working on atm ( do not worry followers! it will be posted! eventually! ) but Man this just. rattled my brain so hard that I had to start writing Immediately

I'm just gonna pick the guys you listed or else I'd be rambling way too much and also idk what the hell to categorize this as so ummmmm just putting it under the cut. I guess these are more like character studies than anything?

SEXUAL HEADCANONS FOR THE DBD KILLERS Featuring Caleb Quinn, Tarhos Kovács, and Max Thompson Jr.

Themes: Smut, smut, and a little bit of fluff at the end. Honestly, what did you expect? Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence

The Deathslinger / Caleb Quinn - I'd imagine Caleb is around his mid-to-late 60s ( if you don't think too hard about the time-fuckery that is the Entity's Realm ), so the man definitely has some years under his belt. - When it comes to sex, though, he might've fooled around with one or two folks in his younger days. Like most other cowpoke of his time, he didn't really care what gender he was laying down with. - Yes, I am saying that Caleb is pansexual. All cowboys are at least a little bit gay. I don't make the rules. - He definitely didn't see any action after nearly killing Bayshore and being stuck in a penitentiary for 15 years straight, that's for sure. - Plus, there's no good reason to be horny in a place like that. - That being said, he knows the basics and maybe a trick here or there, so he's not a total buffoon, but he's not a floozy either.

The Knight / Tarhos Kovács - Being taken from his home and put into slavery at such a young age, he didn't exactly have a normal childhood. - Tarhos didn't have the time to be concerned with anything remotely romantic or sexual, constantly going on campaigns with his men and killing everyone that stood in their way. - He would never admit it to anyone, even himself, but this man is so touch-starved and needy that just hugging him would probably give him a boner as stiff as his claymore. - Tarhos tries to ignore sexual urges until they go away, but that doesn't always work, so he might have to rub one out once in a while. He feels guilty about it every time. - Yeah, he's a virgin. No experience at all.

The Hillbilly / Max Thompson Jr. - Oh, this poor boy. We all know his story by now. It's pretty obvious that he never had any physical contact, much less that of a romantic or sexual nature. - Back in his time, television shows weren't nearly as scandalous as nowadays. There was no way of accessing pornographic material unless you got special magazines, which he of course never did. - Going through puberty, he would feel strange and uncomfortable, just trying to ignore the weird feelings he had. It made him want to crawl out of his own skin. - Those habits stuck with him into his adulthood, constantly fighting his own body and trying anything to get the strange feelings to go away. Eventually, he figured out that friction was the easiest method. - You could say he's "innocent", but I prefer "clueless". - If someone were to truly earn his trust and explain to him what erections, masturbation, and sex are, he'd get super flustered and cover his face in shame. - His first time would need to be slow and more of a tutorial than anything else. Dude's probably gonna cum as soon as a hand touches him. Just be patient.

[pangtasias-atelier]

Dreaming Reality

Was really craving to write something with like my fave characters but individual and like more close to canon. But with still same bullshit indulgent nonsense in snippets, so have this Freyr at a huge size involving Askr and me trying to use the scraps of lore there is lmao so it is mostly like headcanons and whatnot

This also just got insanely long at 14k words so this is now my second longest traditional story. Also title taken from one of the book 4 chapters which I felt fit with this concept I had.

Warning: This is a fetish story!

Tucked away in the very heart of Ljósálfheimr’s vast, bountiful landscape, and further hidden within the equally imposing equally inviting castle —its stark white walls a sharp contrast against the usual warm, bright colors that permeate Ljósálfheimr— is a massively imposing tree, known as Yngvi to a select few, the ancient piece of flora, still as lush as ever. Its roots dig into the very soil underneath it, concrete foregone where it grows, centuries of magic pooled into it and the ground beneath it alike. Yngvi’s looming crown is nestled between the room’s towering ceiling and its own broad trunk. The massive tree trunk comes close to rivaling a manakete in sheer size alone. The entire testament of Ljósálfheimr’s wealth of nature is sprinkled in water, beads of water comfortably perched atop its abundant leaves like dew. And yet, despite the overwhelming size from a lone, singular tree, the room housing it is more than capable in doing so, the room enchanted to grow along with such a delicate creation as they ought to be taken care for. The space tinges with magic permeating the very room, the sheer size of a single ever expanding room is far too much for most people to comprehend.

But not to Freyr, the magic interwoven into the room one of his own creations as Ljósálfheimr’s King. The room itself is mirrored after his own oft forgotten throne room, magic incantation included —said throne room itself modeled after the World of Steel’s architecture from ancient civilizations, back when mortals once believed in their own dreams. The massive rotunda is filled with empty space like his own throne room as well, the only adornments from the land’s natural prosperity itself, vegetation lined across the walls and through the building itself; the openings in the walls also allow for the sun’s beaming rays to envelop the room as well as the light beams directly down onto the tree’s crown from the dome’s oculus. 

Freyr rests against the tree. His back is pressed up against the enormous tree trunk far wider than could be normally expected of a tree. His eyes are as closed as they ever are, the golden hues of his eyes hidden behind closed lids. The vegetation surrounding him is a radiant myriad of colors like Ljósálfheimr’s usual abundant springtime. The beads of water refuse to sully his robes, the dewed tree coated in water all around itself besides where he sits despite the lack of rain in his realm. Freyr holds out his hand. And a single droplet is summoned forth, the bead of water splashing into the very palm of his hand without leaving a trace of water.

And then, Freyr begins to dream.

Freyr wanders the snowy landscape. The blanketing white snow envelops the entire ground and coats most of Talrega’s modest buildings during Daein’s harshest weeks of the year. Only a few people travel along the narrow alleyways and singular main road, snow crushed under eager to move on beorc ready to avoid such a remote area’s tumultuous weathers. Freyr passes by them. Everyone continues walking past him, all ignoring Freyr and even the stout goat horns jutting from his head that plainly mark him as a laguz. None so much as even bother turning to look at his strange attire, the draped white robes something akin to reasonable in the weather if not for his archaic wooden staff or the large bright butterfly wing design jutting from his torso, the bright colors a beacon of light even in the poor weather. 

Freyr enters the inviting tavern —the building the lone, singular tavern Talrega has to offer— its soft beacon of light pouring from the windows. The door chiming as he enters the building, Freyr ignores the raucous laughter from the small band of men taking up a table, each and every one of them wearing the countries’ emblematic black armor. And among them is a dozing off man with an eye patch, the dream Freyr so casually invaded the man’s own. But the food awaiting the men at their table is the cause for Freyr’s visit, the bowls and plates on the table catch his attention much more. And taking a seat on one of the tavern’s empty stools, Freyr conjures up his own copies of the food, a one for one recreation of the still steaming meal now in front of him. 

A hearty warm bowl awaiting him, Freyr digs into the sizable serving of soup first. The soup not something to certainly write home about —the ingredients afforded to such a remote region clearly not the best— the feeling permeating throughout each and every bite radiates with warmth as Freyr indulges in the soup. The somewhat watery soup is as thick and creamy as the person’s old dream he gave himself the liberty of entering imagined; the soup goes easily down his throat, a small contented hum elicited from Freyr as he goes back for another spoonful. And another, the potatoes nicely tender as they melt in his mouth, the potato paired with a small offering of carrots and onions. The bowl itself is nothing special. But Freyr continues to hurriedly eat his soup. He soon finds his spoon scraping the bottom of the bowl; the sound scraped wood only happening once before he simply lifts it and chugs the last remnants of the hearty soup that go down just as easily as Ljósálfheimr’s crystal clear water. He finds his small portion of bread all by its lonesome now in his haste to finish the soup, the humble offering of bread as big as a loaf for the human. But nonetheless, Freyr takes a hearty bite of the dense, slightly stale bread, the bread not too far off from the cold mountainous country of Illia he had the fortune of transporting himself to yesterday. He eagerly applies the small sliver of butter provided — well, conjured; the salty butter is spread as thin as possible, the cheap knife routinely scraping the thick slice of bread. All the while, Freyr keeps his eyes closed in his hurried state, Freyr’s fast pace nothing more than a barely perceptible difference to the few beings that know of his existence. Unlike the mortals who continue to ignore the strange invader, the humans only follow the hazy dream’s memory; all of them are nothing more than a figment of imagination unlike Freyr’s very real self and the sizable portion of food that now contently sits in his flat stomach.

Freyr comfortably rests on the stool; the murmured conversations are muffled, the noise as incoherent as the person’s own dream, most of the dream an incoherent mess besides the intoxicating allure of  company and food if not for Freyr willing the rest into place. He continues to rest in the seat for a moment, taking in the inviting presence as the small group of Daein army converse behind him, and continue to eat well past what they originally did. He takes a couple last sips of his drink, the wine far from anything spectacular next to the eons worth of aged bottles he owns. But the drink suffices for him, the allure of human food far too great to resist and experience for himself. The cup of wine is gently placed back onto the counter once he finishes it, Freyr well and truly satisfied after his meal.

And then, Freyr wakes up.

“Ah, I was wondering how long it’d take you. After all these years, I'm still never too sure about your expeditions,”

And Freyr is met by Askr, the divine being patiently standing directly in front of him. 

Until he kneels down, poking a finger directly into Freyr's gut. “You've certainly been enjoying your expeditions into the dream realm. Though, how does that even work, considering we are currently in Ljósálfheimr itself?” 

Freyr accepts the hand Askr holds out for him, Askr’s defined musculature comes in handy, his biceps tensing as he helps Freyr stand up. “No need to concern yourself over it. Thinking too intently on the laws governing Ljósálfheimr is the mind killer. It is something best left alone,” Freyr opens his eyes. The scant few times he bothers doing so, his golden eyes staring right down at Askr with the few inches of difference between the two men. 

And unlike his avatar within his own miniature dream realm where he relives others dreams, Freyr’s dreamself is a clear depiction of himself back when he was three hundred pounds lighter.

And standing right in front of Askr, Freyr's own differences from enjoying his ventures into people's own dreams are clear unlike the hazy figments of humanities’ imagination. Freyr's newfound belly presses against the flowing, draping white fabric of his attire. The vibrant trims of fringe bulge outward to accommodate his wider gut. A gut that now comfortably slots itself in between his large, plump thighs whenever he sits. So wide and full is his gut that the plush roll for love handles press against the massive adornment of butterfly wings Freyr wears. Said butterfly wings obstruct his newfound meaty tits, the two plush breasts resting atop his large gut as they press up against the stiff material of the wings. His rotund figure is visible through the column like robes he wears, the outline of his figure once as straight as a wall unlike his current obese figure. The outline of his large, portly thighs peak through his robes, the outward curve of his legs bulging against the yards of white fabric. Freyr’s flabby arms are hidden a bit better underneath his clothes, the draped fabric loose enough. The sleeves do show off his arm’s girth, his biceps more akin to cushiony pillows used to aid humans into drifting off into his realm instead of the once svelte, limber arms he used to sport. Freyr’s face is similarly bloated; his puffy cheeks have a barely perceptible jiggle to them as he breathes, Freyr’s visage far softer and more rounded unlike before.

“Alright then,” Askr rests a hand on Freyr’s belly. He gives it a couple of pats, Freyr’s large gut much flabbier than his own little muscle gut. Askr also sports a bit of extra heft on his frame, Askr clearly having been indulging as of late. He still has his usual musculature, all of it accentuated by the extra bit of flab he has. His biceps are rounder and more filled out. His tits look more plump and squishier. His thighs have a bit more heft to them as they rub against each other. And Askr’s once defined six pack is washed away underneath a small pool of lard, the beginning stage of a flabby belly on his figure. “No need for me to stick my nose where it’s not needed. Since you’ve been enjoying human cuisine lately, I thought you might enjoy trying the real thing,” Askr holds out his hand for Freyr to take as he conjures up a portal. The very same one he entered through, the banquet awaiting them is visible through the translucent blue passageway.

“I appreciate the offer, but unfortunately I must relent. There is a certain, ‘fine’ quality to experiencing things through the lens of how mortals perceive them, no matter how untrue they might be. You are welcome to join me whenever you’d like,” Freyr offers as he takes a seat once more. He summons another droplet of water from the tree. But the water remains as it reaches Freyr’s palm. the singular bit of water evaporating into immaterial streams of steam. And the scenery of steep, craggy mountains circled by tamed wyverns fill out the portal Freyr conjures up. Freyr slowly drifts off into Macedon, a weak willed noble’s remembrance of drinking and eating after being reunited with his sister for the second time too compelling to ignore any longer.

“Perhaps some other time then,” Askr waves Freyr a goodbye, heading back to Askr with a small shake of his head despite the smile on his face.

-------------

Choosing to enjoy the limitless possibilities offered to him, Freyr continues to venture through the mortals’ own dreams.

Like most every other venture into a human’s former dream, Freyr had been tempted by the allure of the dream itself, one chosen at random amongst other similarly brilliant dreams. Far from pure like most of the rest, the avaricious fantasy has Freyr enjoying his time amongst the lavish lifestyle of Carcino’s nobility, the merchant’s son turned into a rogue clearly well remembering the more recently founded countries’ extravagance. 

Freyr enjoys himself all by his lonesome in the corner. Not that anyone pays any mind to him. Every single imaginative recreation of a person simply replays out their roles in the human’s dream. Sitting at one of the smaller tables —what Freyr assumes to be for the more distant, emerging relatives of more powerful merchants. The small table, at least for such a clear display of such vast wealth, had originally been nothing more than a vague, hazy void, this section of the dream clearly not the focal point and forgotten as such. At least until Freyr had rectified that by imbuing the hazy patches with his own will and magic. 

A bevy of dishes await Freyr. Far too many for a regular mortal to realistically enjoy. But Freyr promptly digs into the honey-glazed ham —the vibrantly aromatic meat imported from the Frelian-Carcino border clearly a well remembered smell from the years old dream Freyr visits; the sweet yet salty cured meat that Freyr’s gut had first set its sight on makes for the perfect first entree to taste. So much so that Freyr ignores the abundance of sides provided to him. He simply keeps on enjoying the ham, one bite immediately followed by another, only after swallowing the prior bite, manners not lost on Freyr despite his hunger. And once he finally finishes his first slice does he bother indulging in other things. Like the cheesy, decadent pasta that is as creamy as it looks as well as the finely aged wine; the wine is by far the clearest memory the dream’s owner fondly remembers —not that they currently reflect it with how much the rogue indulges in food unlike the true reality of the dream. The wine is almost comparable to Freyr’s own reserves in Ljósálfheimr when blended with the tantalizing elation of mortal memories, almost. One glass quickly leads to another. And another serving of ham plus a heaping helping of potato gratin alongside it. He eagerly takes a bite of the nicely crisped gratin, the still bubbling pockets of cheese melting in his mouth along with the buttery slices of potato. Unfortunately the dish has little remembrance in the owner’s dream, but that doesn’t detract from the natural flavors of the high cuisine Freyr eats. But it does tempt him straight back into tearing through the ham, the meat all the more delectable from its own exquisite flavors as well as the owner’s faint memories of their own dream, the emotions and desires of one’s own mind a potent effect in the dream realm.  Freyr continues to enjoy the ham, his second and then a third serving finished far faster than is appropriate, and eaten in far larger quantities than what would pass for decorum. But Freyr has little concern to worry about that in the presence of faint dreams. Especially when his still thin avatar has nary a single ounce of pudge.

After finishing his third heaping portion of ham, Freyr indulges in a lighter snack before moving straight to dessert. By helping himself to a hefty serving of salmon and shrimp, the seafood served over a bed of rice and seared, buttery vegetables. And another glass of wine as well, Freyr now on his fifth glass. The rice having sopped up most of the errant drips of sauce, the grain pairs well with the tender cuts of fish, a forkful of vegetables followed after each and every bite of the seafood and rice. Freyr takes quick bites of everything. Not a single drop of sauce ends up misplaced. Every bit of food easily finds its way into his mouth. He finishes the very last bite with a small contented sigh while wiping away at the nonexistent crumbs on his lips. His fingers almost find their way on his flat stomach, delicate, nimble fingers hovering above his stomach for a second before he stops himself from patting it in satisfaction. 

The dessert afterwards comes easily to Freyr. Especially when they’re all clearly well liked by the dream’s owner; the above average slices of cake and pie are nearly the finest treats Freyr has had when dreamt up by someone with such a sweet tooth. He stops himself from lifting the plate off of the table, fingers fiddling with the rim of the plate as he struggles to hold himself back from devouring the rest of the delicate morself in a couple of quick bites. But he does finish it all the same, the decadent red velvet cake eaten in a few minutes slower than his gut craves. But Freyr simply conjures up another slice to enjoy. And another after he promptly devours that one. And then one more to make up for the cravings he still wishes to satisfy. He only stops himself from creating another replica of cake to indulge on the strawberry-rhubarb pie, the tartness of the filling complimented by the flaky buttery crust. And while the bit of tartness isn’t as appreciated by the dreamer’s sweet tooth self, the dessert is just as welcomed to Freyr, a second and a third slice easily stuffed into his still flat stomach. He takes a moment to compose himself, yards of fabric dusted off as he stands up, not a single person reacting to his presence. 

Or to the fading background of the dream, everything washed away back into nothingness as Freyr wakes up and returns to the calming moonlight of Ljósálfheimr after his third dream of the day, Freyr unable to restrain himself to just one like when he first began these voyeurs. 

-------------

And the days continue to drift on in Ljósálfheimr. The dream realm as peacefully quiet to rule as the name might suggest, the picturesque days all mingle together. As do the dreams Freyr continues to indulge in, weeks swiftly turning into months. An all too easy thing to forget when Freyr has lived longer than entire lineages have existed.

In his fourth dream of the day already, Freyr pauses his eating for a brief moment. Only after he finishes his current helping of seafood paella from Solm, Freyr eager to once more partake in the well known Solm’s most famous chef, the former Sentinel having cooked twice as much in Freyr’s version of the dream compared to what actually happened. Freyr quickly nods his head at the tingling sensation in the back of his mind, someone clearly wishing to enter his realm. Which he allows before ending the dream, the sweltering, arid heat of Solm that’s dulled by a citizen’s own accustomation to it much more gladly left behind than the abundance of food. Food that he quickly shovels in his mouth, a serving of tiramisu and nut milk pie left over his now messy face.

The fading remnants of the dream dissolve into nothing, the ostentatious design of Solm immediately replaced with Ljósálfheimr’s own more natural one as Freyr wakes up once more.

Doughy, flabby arms lifted above his head and past his goat horns, the two meaty hammocks for arms squish against Freyr’s rounded out face. An extra bit of heft on him from even more ventures into others' own dreams —and the subsequent amount of food he ate during every single one— Freyr’s real body clearly shows off all the weight he’s gained. He no longer wears the large butterfly wings attached to his chest, the overflowing white robes he wears now more affixed to his curvaceous, flabby body. And weighing a couple hundred pounds past an entire quarter ton, his flabby body has an abundance of rolls, each and every one of them as soft and supple as the last. A fact Freyr knows all too well during more self-reflective moments, and not of the introspective kind. Freyr’s girth weighs heavily on him despite his own divinity; the deity struggles to stand up, his flab wobbling to and fro as he takes deep, heavy breaths. And despite his apparent struggling with so much bulk in the way, he stands on his own two feet just as easily as his once spry self did.

He starts walking forward, his whole body jiggling as he heads towards the one of many exits of the massive dome. His gut jiggles most of all. The large ponderous gut that clearly matches someone weighing more than seven hundred pounds presses against his engorged, dimpled knees, the gut large enough to smother one of his own subjects audibly slapping against his barrel sized thighs. It also presses against his tight robes, the outline of his sloshing gut shifting with each step. The soft, cushiony bell shape of his lowermost belly roll is pressed prominently against the white robes. Freyr’s gut isn’t the biggest obstacle despite how much the massive belly gets in the way. No, his large adipose riddled thighs give him more trouble with how he’s forced to swing one heavy leg past the other. His legs don’t press up against his clothes, thankfully. Unlike his cushiony rear, his rotund posterior past the point to where it now needs two chairs —that the mortals use at least, Freyr’s furniture massive enough to handle him with Ljósálfheimr’s rules bent by his very whim. His ass wobbles as vigorously as his gut does. And it serves just as well as a shelf as his large breasts which closely resembles his sister’s sizable own. If not for the way they splay and sag, Freyr’s chest splayed to the side just as well as they sag, the two hefty tits pressed up against the sides of his arms that’re bent at an angle.

And yet, despite it all, Freyr continues to walk at a leisurely pace just the same as he used to back before gaining six hundred pounds. He breathes fine; the only issue he struggles with is the sheer amount of his own mass being in the way of itself as he waits for his guest.

“Looks like I’m right on time,” Askr waltzes into Ljósálfheimr, entering through an azure blue portal. He smiles brightly, just as eager to meet Freyr as he always is. And Askr still enjoys human cuisine just as Freyr does, Askr’s own rotund figure a much lighter size with him not even weighing half as much as Frery does. He waits for Freyr to respond, Askr’s prodigious chest fitting for a bull such as himself swollen with lard much like his gut, all sense of musculature now completely washed under a torrent of flab.

“You could have entered on your own if you wished. You needn’t ask permission,”

Askr takes a step closer, flabby belly pressed against rotund gut. Askr’s own stomach looks emaciated next to Freyr’s own grand size, despite his own top heavy figure. “Well, just think of it as a reminder about my visit. I know how long you can take in your dreams,” It takes only a single thought for Askr to summon a large napkin, the cloth wiping away at the crumbs of cake and pudding before disappearing with yet another thought. “And I can tell I was right with how much of a rush you were in, my friend. Good thing I understand the rules well here,” Askr’s pudgy fingers sink into the mass of fat that is Freyr’s gut as he pats it.

“Well enough. What is it that you wished to visit me for then? Since you made it abundantly clear about the secret nature of your plan,” Freyr asks. He makes no motion to remove the hand on his gut.

“Since you still refuse to leave your realm, though you should try it someday, I know you’d enjoy it, I thought that maybe I should bring the food to you. Why don’t I conjure up what I remember from all the offerings the mortals have given me? Or better yet, why don’t we experience one of my dreams together? Though I’d wager you already did so considering how much you enjoyed the offerings I’ve shared with you before,” Askr chuckles to himself, his body jiggling as he waits.

Freyr struggles to hold himself back from immediately agreeing, the sheer elation of Askr’s cuisine mixed with the deity’s own pleasure in receiving such gifts too tantalizing to pass up. “Partaking in the dreams of other divine beings is… difficult to say the least. But, as long as I have your express permission, then we may journey into one of your own dreams together,”

“Perfect. I’ll lead the way,” Askr grabs Freyr’s arm, interlinking the flour bag for an arm with his own flabby bicep. His love handle is squished against the massive wall of flab that is Freyr. But the two of them walk back to Ljósálfheimr’s Yngvi despite their own sizes. “So why is it that you normally can’t view my dreams? Is it because Ljósálfheimr is made up of mortal’s dreams?”

“Very astute. But not quite. Or else I would not be able to enjoy the dreams of dragonkin of other realms, as humans have so called us as well,” The two of them laugh at the mention, neither of them able to transform into dragons. “Think of it as simply the realm’s own defensive measures in denying me the ability to peer into the other rulers of Midgard’s realms,” He continues.

“So then it’s to protect us from any being who manages to attain the ability to view other’s dreams?” Askr helps Freyr sit down, the massive goat gladly accepting the help so as to not crash onto the ground out of laziness. 

Resting against the massive tree, Freyr no longer resembles a mouse next to an elephant. “Correct,” Freyr summons a dream once Askr sits beside him and nods in agreement, a ray of light somehow peaking through the tree’s crown as it envelops the two of them.

And Freyr and Askr begin to dream together, the two of them transported to Askr’s domain not so long ago.  And not much lighter either, the imaginary Askr only a couple pounds slimmer than the very much real one, Askr retaining all his weight like Freyr.

“Didn’t you say you made yourself thinner in these little expeditions of yours?” Askr’s hands grope himself as well as Freyr’s own immense flab. His hands expressly reach towards Freyr’s bulging love handles, both hands required to properly handle all the girth.

Freyr hums for a moment. He takes a couple of ponderous steps before conjuring up a table, complete with its own enormous spread of food much like the rest of the food in the dream. If not for how each plate nearly overflows with food; every single portion comes close to being twice the size of the real thing. “You seem to be enjoying your more plush size. Although…I am… surprised by the amount of humans here,” Freyr plainly admits, glancing around at the abundance of mortals.

“Of course! Food is much more enjoyable when in the company of others,” Askr elbows Freyr, the rounded out flabby limb merely squishing against more flab. “Though I don’t remember this dream,”

“Dreams can be a form of recollection, of one processing their own memories. Or they can be something long forgotten, tucked away in the subconscious,” Freyr answers, not saying more. He instead takes a seat on a chair. Two of them, his ass spilling off both sides of them. Freyr’s ass thankfully has no armrests to deal with to pinch his corpulence. He instead uses his bulging love handles to rest his enormous arms for. His gut does struggle a bit unlike the rest of his girth; his gut spilling forward to take up all the space on his thighs, Freyr’s massive belly presses against the table, his gut spilling on top of it.

“I see. I take it this is something best not thought too deeply about?” A small hypothesis formed, Askr can already feel his brain hurting at the thought, one theory followed by another and another. He takes a seat right in a single chair beside Freyr and he pulls his chair a bit back to give him some breathing room, his flabby little ball of a belly grazing the edge of the table.

“Yes. For now, let us simply enjoy the food you so fondly remembered,” Freyr starts with the roasted duck, dipping it in sauces unknown to both him and Askr.

“When you put it like that,” Askr digs in as well, enjoying the buttery garlic steak first.

And the two begin to eat in earnest once they finally take their first bites. Freyr first sticks to what he likes; he continues to put away more and more of the duck. Chunk after chunk of thinly sliced meat plopped in his mouth as if they were tiny, little finger foods. Duck is only followed by spoonfuls of white rice drenched in sauce. The spoonfuls soon easily resemble near cupfulls as Freyr shovels them into his mouth as if the dream were to end any second. 

Askr follows Freyr’s example in how fast he eats. All it had taken was a single bite of his steak to be convinced. Askr eats at a rapid pace unlike the lenient speed his dream self does. A hunk of steak soon turns into a glass of wine and then a thick, creamy soup with Askr wishing to retaste everything offered to him. He continues to eat everything available to him, a large sampling of the variety of dishes too good to pass up on. Even as he begins to feel himself become comfortably sated, his gut content with the nearly dozens of plates he’s eaten —the cleaned out plates stacked high as if a monument to his indulgence— Askr goes to reach for another plate, mouth still full of food. 

Askr only eats another piece of steak once there is absolutely nothing else to taste, every morsel of food he tried all sitting heavily in his gut like a weight. Askr sits back in his seat. He cradles his taut gut, so much of the flabby give it once had now replaced by stuffed, taut skin. It takes him a few minutes to speak up, one eye lazily closed as sleep begins to draw him in its clutches, the logistics of falling asleep within a dream taking place in the dream realm something Askr forces himself to not think too much about. “You were right. This -oughh- tastes amazing…” Askr takes deep breaths as his gut continues to argue with him.

“You clearly enjoyed eating this the first time.” Finally no longer eating duck —not that Freyr no longer craves it, the hefty dream king forcing himself to at least try everything else lest he keep on eating the duck and nothing else— Freyr’s molehill of plates makes Askr’s look like an inconsequential anthill. “One’s original emotions greatly impact the flavor of dishes,” Freyr tears off and bites into half of an entire loaf of sourdough bread, the loaf littered with holes from its clear craftsmanship.

“Ah…” Askr lazily replies, tiredly nodding his head.

Freyr finishes the half of a loaf of bread, the dry piece of bread helped by the sauce Freyr dunks it into and subsequently chugs down afterwards, bits of sauce dribbling down his bulbous jowls as he responds. “I must say, this was quite an experience. For you as well,” Freyr digs back into the food, his gut squishing further into the table as he leans forward, nothing within arms reach safe from ending up in his gut.

Askr takes a deep breath before responding. “Yes. If anything, all of this was easily twice as good as the first time I ate this,” Askr sits up from his slumped posture, straightening his broad back.

Freyr continues to eat. He only offers a small humm of agreement, the bit of noise practically a moan as he continues to stuff himself, more food conjured up to sate his seemingly endless hunger. And Freyr simply continues to eat in silence, more time passing by without a word said between the two men.

“Well, I -ourrp- think it’s time to call it quits. I don’t even have room for dessert,” Despite having finished eating in full a while ago, Askr still nurses his aching gut, the several plates of food sitting heavily in his gut along with the snacks he enjoyed while waiting for Freyr to finish. He takes deep breaths as he leans back into his chair, his plush backside pressed up against the entire width of the backrest, his flab squeezed past the edges of it. He sits like that for a few moments. One hand rubbing his poor, aching gut, his other rests on his tits. His attention solely devoted to tending to himself at the moment, he can’t help but shift his eyes as he notices the still eating humans in the background. And his still imaginary self still gorging on food well after the small little banquet had ended. Askr says nothing, turning to Freyr instead as he continues to wait.

Freyr shifts his attention over to dessert —after cramming another handful of slices of duck down his mouth and washing it with an entire glass of wine. Two pieces of carrot cake end up devoured in nearly whole bites, the slices crammed into Freyr’s gluttonous maw before he finally stops. “Hmmm. Perhaps so,” He says before reaching for yet another slice, doughy bingo wings for arms struggling to reach past his enormous gut that’s just barely beginning to gain some tautness to it, the ball of a gut pressing up against his robes as if he stuffed a beach ball underneath it. He crams a forkful of the cake into his mouth, a third of the heaping slice of cake forcefully crammed in by himself despite his agreement. He also doesn’t bother rising up. Freyr gladly stays seated in his two too small chairs.

Askr rolls his eyes. Though he can’t help himself from laughing, a deep, tired chuckle escaping past his messy crumb littered lips. “I guess if you’re still hungry. What kind of friend would I be to not help you?” One hand on the chair for support, Askr stands up. And he shovels the rest of the slice of cake into Freyr’s mouth with zero hesitation. He conjures up more food for the two of them to enjoy, his own creations an even more indulgent, heaping portion of food based off of Freyr’s already excessive sizes.

“Eat up. It’s not every day you get to enter my memories right? So help yourself as much as you want,” Askr bends down, whispering in Freyr’s ears. His pudgy double chin rests on Freyr’s bloated shoulder. 

“Hmpph I still have room to spare,” Freyr says as if he were talking about the weather. Which it might as well be to him, his own insatiable appetite a fact of life to him like everything else in life, the endless possibilities of dreams a window to the future just as much as they are recollections of one’s past gifting Freyr with the ability of minor divination of countless possible futures. And the future looks promising to Freyr as he opens his mouth for another bite of food that Askr happily feeds him.

So much dessert —as much of a spread of it as entrees— the two take their sweet time in exploring each and every single one, despite Freyr’s initial wishes; he reaches for some more carrot cake again.

Askr smacks his portly hand. “Come now. You have all of these to taste, and you still want to try the same old thing? I would have thought someone with your expertise would understand the beauty in trying new things,”

Freyr opens his eyes. He glares at Askr with his half lidded golden eyes. His face is still smeared in frosting, bits of orange crumbs littered over the white cream. “Rest assured, I will try all of them eventually. There is nothing wrong in enjoying the things one likes,”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you will eat everything. I don’t think anyone doubts your capabilities in gorging yourself. But since I’m here to make sure you do, it’s best to enjoy a little variety on the way to the end. Especially when you have the perfect tour guide right here to help you. Now, let’s see… Ah! Here it is,” Askr reaches down at the table, and grabs a bowl of peach cobbler with one hand, his other hand resting on Freyr’s gut. “This was my favorite dessert of this banquet. 

Freyr eyes the treat. His eyes aren’t quite the same as their former glare. He reaches towards the peach cobbler with a flabby arm. His gut digs further into the table. “Then I shall try it-”

Askr smacks Freyr’s hand as he pulls away the dessert. “Now hold on. Your greedy self will have to wait for it,” 

“Then hurry up with the rest of the food,,” Freyr blows out a strand of hair out of his face with a huff, his glare deepening. 

“What happened to the calm, patient Freyr? You must have eaten him, you beast. And many others to reach a size like yours,” Askr pokes Freyr’s tits, his meaty chest larger than Askr’s own pudgy face. But he relents, giving Freyr the food like he so desires. Freyr is a hair’s breadth away from becoming a mess, eyes drooping down in exhaustion from the oncoming food coma. He breathes through his nose, mouth always filled with food that he can’t help but crave more of. Not when each delectable treat is as buttery and sugary as the last, the fresh. sweet dessert lovingly handmade and lovingly enjoyed by Askr originally, Askr’s excited emotions clinging to every bite as Freyr swallows everything given to him.

Askr starts with the more simple treats, a few cookies dumped into Freyr’s mouth at a time like a waste disposal. Askr starts with the more basic variety, chocolate chip and regular sugar cookies first before moving onto shortbread and gingersnaps, those devoured by Freyr as easily as dreaming comes to him. And Askr continues on, crinkle cookies and butter cookies disposed of into Freyr’s mouth like all the rest. 

“There. I’m sure even someone like you should be satisfied with that,” Askr taunts after giving Freyr several dozens of cookies, all of them as voraciously devoured as when Freyr first started glutting out on duck more than an hour ago. 

“Per- mmmppph!” Askr shoves more food into Freyr’s mouth. 

Askr’s tail flicks behind him, the thin tail barely noticeable behind his bulk. Especially as he leans onto Freyr’s corpulence, his still digesting belly a soccer ball next to Freyr’s beachball of a belly. “Don’t worry about answering. Can’t have you wasting energy, now can we?” Askr winks, giving Freyr more food. He gives him donuts, eclairs, macaroons, and all manner of things, Freyr fed Desserts that hadn’t even been brought to the banquet. Only after Freyr devours everything else, does Askr bring the peach cobbler back to Freyr’s bloated, messy face.

The scent wafts towards his nose. The still warm dessert tantalizingly calls Freyr’s name. The dessert begs, no desires to be devoured by him, Freyr sluggishly moving in his chair as he needs to fill himself with it. His porcine arms jiggle in the air as he reaches for it, hands barely lifted up. “Give it alr- hnghhhh…” Freyr’s lips eagerly close down on the spoonful of food shoved in his mouth. His eyes once again closed in content, Freyr becomes a mess of moans as Askr gives him another and then another.

“Now what did I say earlier?” Askr continues to feed him. First with one nearly spilling over bowl of dessert followed by another exactly the same. But after that, Askr hands him a tube, the metal contraption leading to absolutely nowhere. “Since we’re in a dream, I figured this should help tide you over,” Askr holds the tube right in front of Freyr’s mouth. His light blue eyes peer down at Freyr, one arm sinking into Freyr’s gut as he leans on him. “Well?”

And Freyr eagerly accepts the tube. A torrent of a mess of peach cobbler comes cascading down it, every single ounce of sugary, crumbly dessert dumped into him like Ljósálfheimr’s plentiful picturesque waterfalls. 

With his own hands now free —and his own appetite whet after the hedonistic display in front of him— Askr tries a spoonful of the cobbler, his first taste of dessert in his own dream. “Mmm…” Askr’s ears droop. As do his eyes. Suddenly weak, both physically and mentally, he digs into the dessert despite his still sated stomach. His stomach only allows him to enjoy a second plate before he can physically take no more. He takes a seat once again while he waits for Freyr to finish devouring to his heart’s content, Freyr’s eyes closed as his moans come out muffled past his feeding tube. “Well, looks like I’ll be here for a while,” 

It takes far too long for Askr to keep track of for Freyr to the feeding tube to finally dissipate back into nothing, the tube gone just as easily as it had been created. “booOUUUurrrp…” Freyr belches, both hands caressing his gut in the meanwhile. Askr goes to join him, a smile plastered on his face as he tends to his fellow god.

“Perhaps it’s time we returned,” Askr whispers in Freyr’s ear, one hand resting on his horns. HIs cow tail lazily flicks in the air behind him, the thin wispy tail even smaller next to his engorged self. His own gut still bubbles and churns from all of the imaginary food. But it no longer nearly kicks at him in frustration, his gut now a more manageable level as it digests the last remnants of his meal. And it fails to compare to the battlefield going on in Freyr’s gut, the deity’s gut resembling the primordial ocean as it churns away to digest the countless pounds of food stuffed inside it.

“Indeed,” And the dream dematerliazes just as swiftly as it once appeared with a simple flick of Freyr’s fingers. The two of them wake up underneath Yngvi just as they dozed away under it.

“Well. It’s time I return to my realm. Though, we should do this again sometime soon,” It takes him a short while, Askr nursing his own gut, and Freyr giving it a couple of pats as well, but eventually, Askr disappears through a portal much like the one he emerged from. And back in his domain —the real one— he easily forgets about all concerns and worries about the accidental consequences of Freyr’s expeditions as he gazes upon the plump mortals in his country, all of them clearly visited by the morbidly obese dream king. And all of them clearly enjoying themselves as well.

-------------

Freyr finds himself trudging down the busy roads of Hoshido’s capital. How can it not be with its newly crowned King walking amongst his people after a treacherous war and the unexpected and prosperous hope of peace between three countries on the horizon? The entire capital in clear celebration, Freyr finds little space for him amongst the largest throes of people closer to the King’s congregation, trying to fit his enormous girth into the small gaps of Hoshidans like trying to fit the towering, looming Dream Gate into a mortal’s home. So Freyr stays far back, where the crowd of people is much less dense, Freyr’s body a boulder next to pebbles. Freyr still retains his weight from his true self; all of his bloated corpulence wobbles whenever he moves. And he moves a lot, Freyr walking to all of the food stands littered throughout the procession’s path. Currently seated at his eighth stand, the single wooden stool underneath Freyr is nearly nonexistent underneath his swaddled under several multiple hundreds of pounds, his ass obscuring it from sight. And yet, the stool expertly holds Freyr up without a single complaint as he crams a third serving of takoyaki into his mouth. Though he has much more care this time, not a single bit of the mayonnaise or fish shavings gone to waste. And after another two quick servings, Freyr slowly stands up —not before conjuring up two handfuls of the takoyaki he tried from the third stand, his favorite so far, for him to snack on— and he makes his way to the next stand, not a single mortal batting an eye at the enormous walking sack of lard among them.

-------------

Freyr enjoys the accompaniment of music with his food, the delicate strings of the lyre plucked while in one of Tarrah’s numerous taverns. Though Freyr barely registers the bard’s tale, the Thracian saga one Freyr has seen through other’s dreams many times over, even if it comes from the original creator's own mouth, Freyr well accustomed to hearing it as well. The booth Freyr sits at is all taken up. By all of Freyr’s own enormity, the sides of his thighs and ass seeping off one edge while the other end is crammed against the wall. His gut is wedged against the table itself despite how pushed back it is. But Freyr worries little about it, instead simply enjoying his meal in the dream like he does everyday, the well respected inn a known name with Tarrah so close to Miletos’ border.

He instead focuses on enjoying his third serving of dessert. His table is littered with emptied out plates; a vast majority of them patatas bravas, the crispy chunks of potato even more enjoyable to Freyr than the bard remembers in his dreams. That and the croquetas made up most of Freyr’s meal, the excessive amount of fried food followed by at least a single serving of the rest of the menu’s sampling, the bard’s frequent stops at the inn throughout his travels a great dreamhost for Freyr to try everything. And currently on his dessert, Freyr takes great care in not getting sugar or the warm chocolate sauce all over himself while he takes large bites of the churros. He has to eat somewhat slowly —his near competitive eater pace he goes at now an extra few seconds slower as he holds a napkin to his doughy triple chin, a fourth not far away. And after eating a fourth serving of them, Freyr begins moving onto the numerous other desserts, the fine playing of the lyre ever continuing.

-------------

Freyr never once stops venturing into the mortals’ dreams. Not even for a single day as he continues to discover and enjoy all manners of food. Even as he waits for Askr, he can’t help but indulge in them, Freyr woken up by all manners of his corpulence being shaken. The stone walls of Garrag Mach wash away, a certain professor’s reminiscences of the countless dishes offered through the dining hall as exquisitely delightful as Freyr had expected. 

“I guess it was to be expected that you’d be dreaming still,” Askr waits for Freyr, a smile on his face as he peers up at him. 

Which is a feat with Freyr sitting down, his own unabashed corpulence raising him off the ground with so much of it to go around. Not that Askr himself has done any real better, the bull’s body showing off all of the extra weight he’s gained. All seven hundred pounds of them, Askr’s size reminiscent of Freyr’s own enormity he once considered absurd back when they first dreamt together. His body clearly favors storing most of the weight in his upper body with how his gut juts out several feet in front of him, the wobbling belly unable to be contained by his shirt, the lower half of his hairy belly exposed past his deep navel; the sagging blubbery mass of flab for a stomach reaches all the way down to his engorged ankles, his calves melding into his ankles now. And his tits that are easily larger than people’s entire torsos are exposed as well from the plunging neckline of his shirt. Most of them are visible, the inner portions of Askr’s plump, over swollen tits which sit on top of his mountainous gut like two boulders on the edge of a cliff. His breasts manage to have some shape to them still despite their size. Askr forgoes his cape now, not that the adornment would help cover him in any meaningful capacity without wasting several yards of fabric —far too much already needed for his shirt and pants— to partially cover his flabby back that’s broad enough to smother a chair. Similarly, Askr no longer wears the strip of fabric tied around his waist with his own waistline more than tripled in size, and his gut would cover most of the white fabric. His pants do their best in clothing Askr; not a single tear in them or a bit of flab from his tree trunk sized thighs escapes through the stark white pants. But the upper sliver of fat from his large rear escapes the back of his pants. 

And yet, Askr’s gained weight still looks petite next to Freyr’s wanton display of gluttony for a body, Freyr’s own heft leaving him looking like a whale more than anything else. Unbothered in trying to weigh himself or even figure some estimate —despite the ease of achieving such a task in the dream realm— Freyr’s stupendous size is a marvel to all, his weight as great a mystery. The easily an entire ton of lard swathed all over him has all of Freyr’s nearly indistinguishable from itself to those not used to seeing him in all of his splendor, one needing to stand a good few feet away from him to do so. At the very center of all his enormity are his barely perceptible horns, the significant length of the two protruding goat horns small in comparison to the rest of himself. Even Freyr’s near floor length hair seems like a tertiary fact about him, the strands of cascading white hair tinged with light blue lost and sunken into his too many to count rolls of lard. His green tinged bangs frame his bulbous face, the strands of hair resting atop the porcine jowls that jiggle and jostle simply from breathing. Freyr’s neck seems nonexistent with it buried in between several hefty chins that meld into the blubbery neck rolls. Freyr’s outfit is a cheap imitation of his former outfit, all of the embroidery and additional fringe gone; the white tarp for clothing lacks any of its former ornamentation. The yards upon yards of silky fabric seems almost suctioned to him with how tightly it clings to him. It does at least manage to do its job in covering up his enormity. Even Freyr’s mattress crushing ass is clothed —his ass able to crush the bed needed to usually gain an audience with him in the dream realm. His ass juts out a few feet behind him, his ass similarly splayed out the side as it takes up as much space as the ground it occupies. Freyr’s ass presses up against Yngvi despite how far he sits away from it. Freyr’s thighs meld together, the two enormous limbs the largest aspect of him. Freyr’s thighs are wider than he is tall now; the couch crushing legs are made up of too many rolls to count. His thighs make for the softest pillow if not for his gut getting in the way since it takes up most of the surface area of his legs. The cascading belly rests on the floor still from it being longer than his limbs though the sides of it only just barely manage to not reach the outer edges of his thighs. And Freyr’s tits splay down onto his gut, the two mortal crushing tits the finest pillow in Ljósálfheimr and even Midgard, his stomach the finest bed. Freyr’s breasts press up against his arms. The two bulging limbs have only the barest semblance of flexibility. The same as his hands, Freyr’s hands barely poking out the wall of flab for arms, just like his legs do to his feet.

Freyr eventually opens his eyes. The usual harsh angular look from his golden eyes are softened by his bulging, ovular visage. “It’s time then?” He slowly starts to stand up, his magic aiding him despite having no leverage. And standing up, Freyr is a wobbling wall of lard, Freyr taking the slowest steps known to anyone despite all of his girth in the way.

“It is. And you did promise to enjoy a meal in my realm. A promise I presume you intend to keep,” Askr takes a step back as the mound of mass trembles before him. His portal still open behind him, the blue aura swirls behind him in anticipation. He enlarges the already massive portal needed to transport all of his own heft. And he takes a step inside after making sure Freyr is following him, no matter the slower than a snail’s pace he moves at.

Back in Askr, in his own domain with humans already waiting, Askr has to wait an extra few minutes for Freyr to appear. The portal prepared specifically for Freyr is an exaggerated portrayal of his usual ones; the ethereal blue haze of the portal fills up a large portion of the landscape, a necessity to allow Freyr passageway when the usual width needed for Askr’s humans would be incapable of allowing even Freyr’s flabby, bulging bicep through. But eventually, Freyr comes through. His gut enters the portal far before he does, the wobbling mass of fat immediately dragging against the floor. His gut nearly fills up the entire expanse of the portal’s width. Only a sliver of inches of extra space are visible on the sides of Freyr’s gut. His draped in white gut continues to slowly trudge forward, the wobbling belly struggling as it scrapes against the plush grass.

 “No need to be alarmed, Everything should already be set for him,” Askr’s arm raised up, he quells the stem of husky humans rushing over to help. Which Freyr looks close to needing after his face finally is visible through the portal, several feet of lard pushed through first. Freyr’s face is bloated, his blobular face red as his sagging porcine jowls jostle against his own bulk while he takes lumbering steps. Though his rounded face pales next to his plush chest. The two massive tits resemble guts in their sheer size; the two clothed breasts use Freyr’s gut as a table, the two jiggling tits managing to stay atop his enormous belly. Eventually his now huffed breathing and tired face make it through the portal, after his tits. It takes even longer for his ass to make it through the portal. The humans continue to wait for Freyr to walk through the portal despite it looking like he’s done. His ass juts out behind him, his immense ass gets wedged, the width of it too big for the portal before Askr hurriedly widens it. But Freyr does make it through the portal after making the humans wait long enough, all of them quiet as Freyr does indeed make Askr look thin like their god so claimed. And afterwards, Freyr comes crashing to the ground, the enormous picnic blanket already prepared for him.

“I thought you might enjoy a more rustic experience true to the mortals. True to Askr. Next time, I’ll imbue my domain with more of my magic to make it easier on you,” One hand on his hip, Askr spreads out his other hand towards the spread of food already prepared. And to the few mortals in attendance. The lightest of them weighs no less than two hundred and fifty pounds, every man at least sporting the tiniest of bellies, the largest of the men —the morbidly obese man well above the average— just shy of being half of Askr’s size.

“If you’d like, they can even tend to you for the night. All of them are rather eager, even if you may not be their patron deity, their benefactor,” Askr winks, a smirk on his face as he awaits Freyr’s response.

“You seem to enjoy their company. And if they are willing, then I will allow it,” Freyr’s flabby finger is lowered. The magic glow fades from the food, Freyr patiently waiting for his food for once. Not his grumbling gut though, the ground around them trembling as the mortals do their best to not stumble.

“Perfect. You heard him, men. He’s a great companion of mine. Treat him as you would treat me,” Askr sits down beside Freyr. His legs are spread out in front of him. With a bit of magic on his fingertips, he begins to enchant the food over to him like Freyr. Only to be stopped just like Freyr, a couple of humans still tend to him. “Hmmm. I guess I should’ve known better. Just make sure you two enjoy your own share as well, don’t worry about how much he’s going to eat,” Askr’s chins jiggle from his gesture towards Freyr before he gets fed by the two largest humans, both fat men resembling bodybuilders next to the two obese deities. 

Freyr tended to three men, the three thinner but still pudgy men trudge carefully around all of his enormity, until Freyr assures them. “Perfect choice, but next time bring some more,” Freyr says after eating through an entire bowl of feta pasta —all of it dumped into his mouth upon requesting it. “And make sure you all have some as well. There’s no guarantee Askr and I will leave anything left,” Freyr’s gut rumbles again, his appetite whet from the small bit of his upcoming feast for a meal. 

And feast he does, food easily fed to him despite the small trek it takes to climb his corpulence. The humans take their turn; two feeding him at once just to keep up with his demanding gut while the third snacks and rests atop of Freyr despite how gripping the jaws of sleep call to them as they use such a fine seat. Freyr accepts every bit of tribute: spicy seared pieces of steak, roasted buttery cauliflower, tender and juicy pork, rich broth of chicken soup, and even the cold leafy vegetables from the salads devoured all the same. His current attendants never spill a single drop despite the bumpy seating that is Freyr’s flabby rolls. They also manage to properly keep up with Freyr’s appetite, the men clearly used to Askr’s own. 

Only for a while before Freyr’s hunger gets the best of him, the ground trembling as his gut gurgles for food. The banquet of food floats through the air. A vast majority of it ends up towards Freyr, three fourths of it enchanted by himself. “Forgive me. But I am still feeling rather peckish,” He gladly accepts another generous pouring of soup into his mouth, the rim of the bowl held up to his pudgy lips by one of his helpers. “But again, feel free to help yourself,” All three men tend to him at once now. They gather around Freyr’s flabby head, his large tits and shoulder flab used as their own personal chairs while they stuff Freyr as he wishes.

“Don't worry yourself over our concern, Lord Freyr,”

“Please, have some more, Lord Freyr,”

“Lord Askr mentioned how much you enjoy wine. Enjoy this red wine, Lord Freyr,” 

The eager mortals keep on talking, Freyr unable to get a single word in between the urging and insistent men and the deluge of food handfed to him at a rate still not as fast as when he indulges in dreams. But Freyr still eagerly accepts every piece of food offered to him. His body is Zenith's slowest whirlwind of activity. The three men use Freyr's whale of a body as if they were stranded sailors stuck on a protruding boulder. And despite Freyr's current inability to speak, the men work in tandem to keep him well fed with his preferred dishes. They practically dump the lobster rolls into Freyr's gullet; they give him one large bite for him to eat around half of the buttery lobster that nearly spills out of the long buns before simply plopping the other half into Freyr's mouth. And as he hurriedly chews on that, he guzzles on the wine poured down his mouth in-between bites; they pour various bottles of wine into his mouth throughout the entire dozen of lobster rolls. Freyr also gets fed more of the feta pasta to help vary it up. He devours an entire plate of it after every three lobster rolls. And they continue to feed Freyr even after all of that. The rest in lower quantities, they feed him the drenched in ranch salads as well as the roasted chickens, both of them almost as delicious as they were in Askr's dream. Everything that remains of the buffet of food, they shovel and feed it to Freyr, their hectic pace still rather careful.

Bits of sauce and food end up on his face by the end of the rest of the main course. The mess of smatterings are smeared all over his porcine jowls as well as his several chins. 

“Our apologies, Lord Freyr,” But they thankfully get cleaned up; the man serving him wine takes a moment to clean up the entire mess. He rubs the damp cloth napkin across Freyr's expanse. It takes him more than an entire minute to reach across all of the dirtied expanse of lard, the napkin carefully rubbed in between all of Freyr's rolls to remove the errant bits of sauce. He takes special care in tending to all of the folds of flab that make up Freyr’s multiple chins.

“Time for dessert, Lord Freyr,” The other two men speak in unison as they hold more offerings for him. All of it for him. One holds a tray of brownies, the crispy upper layer of dark chocolate still warm and gooey in Freyr's mouth as he shoves an entire piece into his mouth one by one. But Freyr gets fed a heaping spoonful of vanilla ice cream the instant after he gets fed a brownie.

“Keep going…” Freyr demands, still so much dessert to go.

And the men follow their orders. They continue to cram the dessert Freyr so desperately craves. The pounds of sweets that end up in his stomach are still nothing more than a drop of water compared to the pond of lard for a body. He gets fed brownie after brownie until the entire tray is left with nothing more than crumbs. And even those are dumped into his mouth. The rest of the ice cream is funneled into him, the remaining bit of it warm enough for Freyr to chug. And even after he finishes that, Freyr is fed an entire strawberry shortcake, the large cake broken up into several slices. Not that it matters much when it all ends up in his stomach all the same, Freyr digesting the hefty serving of dessert as the men begin to grab even more.

“No need to worry you two. Despite his appearances, he does his best to share,” Askr doesn’t bother turning, well aware Freyr can hear him despite looking seemingly too busy enjoying his food to properly pay attention. Or the gluttonous haze that takes over Freyr —a similar one beginning to take over Askr as well. The other quarter of food brought to him and his two attendants by his own magic. He eats most of the buffet of food, but he still takes his time to share despite getting stuffed around the clock. 

“Have this, Lord Askr. I know you've been craving this,”

“You skipped your second lunch today. You must be famished Lord Askr,”

Unlike Freyr's treatment, Askr is treated more akin to a valued eater —Askr unable to complain about the near livestock treatment — than a valued guest. Food ends up in his mouth before he can even request a certain dish. But he gets fed his favorites all the same. The juicy steaks are quickly cut into smaller, but still mouth watering large portions, and fed to him. And to wash it down, Askr's attendants feed him mashed potatoes. And Askr gets funneled gravy all by itself. To top off his meaty heavy meal, he gets fed even more meat, slow roasted pork served atop a bed of rice shoved in his mouth before he can properly finish chewing. As well as salmon served with asparagus, the salmon melts apart in his mouth before he even has to chew. Which helps Askr as more and more food is crammed into his mouth. Dribbles of sauce end up running down his portly cheeks. Askr's attendants only clean it up after they finish feeding him their plate, their own pudgy bodies pressed up against Askr's own while they kneel on the ground. They pinch and grope Askr's cheeks as they wipe him clean. Something they take their time in bothering to do, Askr’s face ending up a mess of food like a pig before they clean him up.

And afterwards, they serve Askr his portion of dessert, they bevy of cookies baked to his preferences with more than a dozen different types of cookies for him to choose from. Not that he chooses; all of it ends up in his mouth, one cookie crammed into his mouth before he can even finish half of the previous one. Askr can't speak past the chunk of food in his mouth. He simply moans as he drowsily looks up at his attendants while they devotedly tend to the bull.

Askr and Freyr go on for quite some time to get through all of the food brought to them despite the speed they devour everything, enough food for a family eaten by the two of them each far too quickly only to get fed another family sized serving. But they eat it all, ninety percent of the food eaten by just the two overwhelmingly obese deities alone despite the five humans eating their fill as well. 

Both of them simply remain seated after the feast. Enough food to feed a small army, neither of them even show the beginning onset of being overstuffed. Instead, they seem all too comfortable to digest their meal as the time passes by them. And they impatiently await for their next snack, their guts already craving more to sate their avaricious selves. 

“Next time we meet, let’s enjoy it in your realm,” Askr proposes as the humans begin to clean up, the men a loud burping mess as if they were the ones who had eaten countless pounds of food.

Freyr readily responds. He remains seated, digesting his food for once, actually enjoying the company of mortals. “Yes. You still owe me another dream,”

-------------

Freyr waits with unabashed passion for Askr’s next visit. So he prepares in the only way he knows how to in the meanwhile now, by dreaming. He takes up most of the room in one of Badon’s inns, the private room usually meant for large groups of private entourages traveling through the port city. Freyr’s body completely dwarfs the humans in the main room. Freyr has more weight in his arm alone than an entire human. He can no longer lift them up without the aid of magic like the rest of his body; his limbs are completely useless now. And despite his size, Freyr is nothing more than an Álfar in Ljósálfheimr —a common sight not worth paying attention to. Freyr’s ass is pressed up against the wall, his gut pressed up against the other end, and the sides of his blubbery spill past the thin strip of curtain meant to offer a false sense of privacy. So little space for anything else, Freyr simply conjures up the food and floats it to his mouth, the pirate chugging ale as if his life depended on it Freyr used to enter his dream off to the side in the main packed room. Freyr pays little attention to what he eats. He simply wants it all, the Lycian meat paired with unique spices from the trade routes that run through Badon all lost on Freyr. The only real difference he tastes is when he swaps to different food categories, a good hour spent on entrees before he enjoys the next hour greedily guzzling down it all. And after he has everything on the menu, he simply conjures up food from the other inns’ menus, pulling from the pirate of two names’ other dreams as he tries to get his fill. A task Freyr devotes plenty of time to achieve.

-------------

The quaint little mountain village offers little in the way of Valentia’s finest cuisine, or even Zofia’s for that matter. The small location can barely compare to all the port cities’ extravagance of variety or the more prosperous offerings found in Zofia’s capital. But what the village lacks in sheer absurdity in variety, it more than makes up for it with the tantalizing dream of one of its lumberjacks; the sheer respite and relief he feels from his hearty portions after a hard day of work enough to make the food surpass in worth to Freyr. The little village offers little room for Freyr, but he makes do with the space available to him. One clearing large enough, Freyr’s enormity takes up most of the south-west section of the village. He takes up too much room in fact; his ass presses up against the natural barrier of trees and craggy rocks of mountain while his gut spills forward countless feet in front of him, the outermost rolls of his gut taking up space on the narrow roads. And the few people walking have their routes adjusted, the remembrances of humans walking carefully alongside the wall of stomach flab that only leaves them a bit of room to walk by despite none even being able to perceive Freyr. But nonetheless, the humans avoid him all the same, a humongous gap in the dream where Freyr takes up all his space. Not that he thinks too much of it. He simply continues to enjoy his meal, the heaping servings of soup enough to sate him at the moment. And when he tires of that, he begins to once again borrow from the lumberjack’s other dreams, his visits across Valentia providing more than enough options to Freyr for awhile before he even begins to mix and muddle with the dreams of the lumberjack’s former war compatriots, far too many mercenaries to choose from to mix and match food that doesn’t even belong to the original dreamer’s memories.

-------------

“Ahhhh. That was buuhuurp a splendid snack,” Askr stews in his own enormity as he smacks his lips. “But I did promise to visit someone,” He slowly begins to rise from his seated position, Askr’s wobbling mass of fat still a sight to behold to all of the humans tending to him. A feat that he can only accomplish through the aid of his magic. But nonetheless, Askr stands up on his own two blubbery tree trunks for legs. He takes a few deep breaths, regaining his stamina as well as his magic. His face bulges with each deep breath, the flabby ovular face jiggling as he does so. Askr’s chins are synonymous with his bulging neck now, the two of them a small tire for his head. His bull horns look small next to his rounded out face as well as his immense weight. He still wears his former clothes, his pants and shirt painted onto his bulging spherical figure. Far too much weight slowing him down, Askr takes slow trudging steps. All of his lard chafes and rubs against itself. Friction and gravity refuse to be his friend, Askr’s gut draping against the floor as he sluggishly walks to the portal that’s only a few inches in front of him. His ass wobbles behind him, his couch crushing cheeks shifting and jiggling every time he lifts his feet up a barely perceptible few centimeters off the ground as he desperately swings one overburdened leg past the other. His jutting love handles sag multiple feet off to the side. They hide the waistband of his enormous pants made up of enough fabric to serve as a tablecloth to the largest of banquet tables. A feat his shirt similarly holds while it does its best to hold back his enormous sloshing wall of fat that is his gut, the battle to contain it all lost a thousand pounds ago. Now, his shirt serves more as an ill fitting crop top. A crop top that only covers a small sliver of his immense breasts. Askr can barely even see the portal; his bountiful chest blocks most of his vision. His engorged tits somehow having a clear shape to them, his chest fills up most of his vision while it rests on his waterbed for a gut. Which currently makes it hard to even hear the gentle hum of the portal as it gurgles and rumbles for more food despite his light three pounds of food for a snack. But he does make it, his gut entering the portal first.

“I’ll make sure he visits next time,” He says to the mortals, all of them a hundred pounds heavier than last time, the mortals weight gain exponentially slower than Askr’s own tremendous growth, the bull now an entire monumental ton, two thousand pounds of flab making up the divine being. He is met with a resound of cheering as the rest of his body trudges through the portal.

He comes crashing down onto Freyr’s mountainous gut. A torrent of flab wobbles as it sloshes and crashes against similarly wobbling folds of lard. Freyr’s corpulence continues to wobble even as minutes pass, every single roll of fat jostling to and fro like a water bed, a stone tossed into a lake considering Freyr’s immense size. It takes Askr a few moments to get his bearings. And to figure out where on Freyr’s enormity he landed on. Despite Askr now weighing a ton —a fact exemplified by the fact that he isn’t just a grain of rice next to Freyr and by how much he sinks into Freyr’s enormity— he still manages to be dwarfed by Freyr’s gut alone. Freyr’s own growth makes Askr’s time stuffing and gorging himself look like a small binge in comparison.

The goat’s stomach spreads on for miles at his size. Freyr still wears his form fitting sheet of fabric for clothes despite his expansive girth. He takes up most of the once spacious room now. An entire half of the room of the expansive area is taken up by Freyr’s immensity. His ass is pressed up against Yngvi, the tree now comparable in size to the gelatinous blob for a deity. The tree steadily holds strong despite the torrent of lard pressed up against it. Freyr’s ass is pressed up against it. The two hills for ass cheeks rise up higher than his own face now, Freyr’s porcine visage sunken in between so much fat. His jutting rear is large enough to fill up rooms on their own; all sorts of mortal transportation in the dreams he’s visited are completely useless to him at his size. The hills of flab for an ass are draped in the white fabric of his tarp for a robe. It manages to cover the majority of his ass, only a small sliver of flab —an entire foot of his ass— escapes past the unhemmed edges of the fabric. His ass taking up a considerable amount of width as well, the farthest reaching rivulets of flab seep past the multiple doors to the side of the room. As do Freyr’s immense thighs. Freyr’s thighs meld into his ass, the exact moment where one ends and the other begins far too great a task to discern. And equally as fruitless, Freyr simply on the path to keep on indulging and growing. His thighs are wider than entire castle hallways, the far too narrow passageways now as useless as entire roads to Freyr’s bulk. His thighs bulge off to the side, the sagging rolls of lard jutting off to the sides of Freyr as they blanket the floor around him, the goat exponentially wider than he is tall. His own thighs are difficult to discern, all parts of it melding together into countless infinitesimal rolls, Freyr’s knees sunken into all the flab, flexibility completely lost to him several tons ago. His cankles that are thicker than peoples’ waistlines smother and do the same to his feet, the appendages buried under lard like most of his body. Freyr’s gut spreads far beyond the length of his legs despite not being as wide as it, his thighs like a blanketing net to hold the oozing deluge of flab that is his stomach. Freyr’s stomach is more than capable of blanketing every mortal room he could possibly visit. Even throne rooms and banquet halls are barely spared from his girth, his tremendous thighs and ass filling out the rest of the space his gut can’t reach.

Even the room that currently houses Freyr struggles to house him; his gut oozes out the front entrances of the circular room. And his smaller throne room can barely fit him anymore, Freyr simply too lazy to use his magic to conjure up more space at the moment. Not when he can spend the energy on stuffing himself. His stomach touches most of his own corpulence in the same way it blankets the floor around him. The elephantine stomach is made up of several stomach rolls; each barely discernible from the last. Even his cavernous black hole for a navel is obscured by the upper rolls of lard that seep over his belly button and rest on his lowest few rolls of stomach fat. Freyr’s arms rest on his gut much like how his gut rests on his thighs. His useless arms are pushed out of the way to make room for his gut, the cylindrical rolls of flab moved aside at an angle, so much flab around them that they're similarly helpless in being able to move. Even Freyr’s hands are useless; the over swollen digits are buried under a bulging roll of wrist fat, his wrist just as buried by his forearm and the largest, flabbiest bicep in all of Ljósálfheimr and Midgard. His biceps touch his own tits, the two comforters for a chest draped over his gut. Freyr’s chest is large enough for Askr to use as his own seat. His chest lacks much shape to it the same way Askr’s does, but the two bountiful breasts still have the slightest bit of shape to them, not all of it splaying down his gut. And at the very center of all of his enormity is Freyr’s face, his face hidden between the rest of the treasure trove of flab. Freyr’s hair flows everywhere behind him, the strands of hair draped atop his cascading back rolls. His horns look absolutely inconsequential to the rest of his corpulence, the two horns a spot of brown amongst the sea of lard. His several chins and neck are a bulging tire of lard, the plush flab helping his face from sinking too deeply. His bulging cheeks take up more space than his head at his size; the two bulging cheeks look constantly stuffed with food, which they always are. And yet, Freyr simply keeps on eating and craving more at his inconceivable size. A fact made acutely aware by the two feeding tubes crammed into his maw, the gushing noise of whatever it is that Freyr guzzles down almost loud enough to drown out his aching gut.

“Hmmm,” Askr peers down at Freyr. He rests on Freyr’s breasts. “I guess I should have expected something like this. It seems your appetite really is endless,” Askr says after a few moments.

“HUUUUUAAAAAAAAARRRRRRP!” Freyr belches for a few minutes upon dematerializing his feeding tubes. The walls shake from the belch. His entire corpulence is sent wobbling once more, Askr shaken like a small raft upon the vast sea. Freyr looks up at Askr with half lidded eyes. “Ahh thought it hahhh… bessht tahh wait for hnghh… you,” Freyr says with difficulty, his own magic only able to do so much when physically swaddled under too much weight to even physically weigh properly. 

“I appreciate that. And while we should hurry and enjoy our dream, I do have a question for you. If you don't mind answering for me?”

“Goooh ohhnnn…” Freyr urges him. His gut also urges Askr as it impatiently rumbles for more food. If Askr didn’t know better, he’d fear that the whole building would come crumbling down, the walls trembling.

“You knew this would happen didn’t you?” Askr summons a couple of portals. All of them only enterable one way, the small windows into his own realm and into the countless worlds tied to Askr through his own powers are positioned towards Freyr. The two of them not the only ones affected —their own sizes a product of their own gluttony— Askr’s own well worshiping humans aren’t even the only ones affected, Askr’s portals a glimpse into the present of far away worlds beyond Midgard’s borders, countless men at the very least on the precipice of being pudgy, numerous others well beyond that threshold into being rather husky men. From the World of Mystery all the way to the World of Rings, all of the men share their extra heft like Zenith’s own husky population. And yet, none of the mortals think anything of their newfound gluttony. The extra trait given to them is nothing more than a regular facet of their daily lives.

Freyr ruminates on a response. But he does eventually respond after a short while. “IIt'sh wahsh only a nnnff shmall pohshsibilihty. But'sh theyyy sheeemmed ughhhh t-too ehnjohy deehmsheehlveehs. hnghh A-And you doohn't'sh m-miihnd iht…” Freyr takes his time to recuperate. By conjuring and guzzling some more of the slop from his feeding tubes.

“You are correct,” Askr admits. He smiles. Already well aware of Freyr’s lack of malintentions, he couldn’t help but sate his curiosity on the matter. “The humans seem to find their predicament enjoyable. And they do deserve to enjoy themselves. But, one final question. I promise this time,” He adds after Freyr glares at him. “How is it that you gained weight to begin with? This is the dream realm afterall,” Askr waits for the feeding tube to disappear once more. He feels a prickle in his head, an incandescent ball of light coming from him.

“Tah saayy it'sh in ahh ahhh… fairy tale shortaah wayyy, “Your thoughtsh becohme r-reality.”,” 

“Of course. How ridiculous of me. I should've expected as much considering how much you’ve been enjoying yourself,” Askr gently pushes the ball of light, offering a dream towards Freyr. “Here, I have a special treat for you. The very first time humans gave me offerings. I’ll make sure you have your fill,” Askr smiles as the ray of light grows stronger, the two of them enveloped in it —after some time to get all of Freyr’s enormity.

And then, Freyr and Askr begin to dream once more, food awaiting them as it always does for the ever hungry and ever growing gods.

[randokatz]

APH CREW SHIP NAMES

(BUT COOLER‼️)

Since I'm in the Lego ninjago fandom (aka the fandom with THE BEST ship names) I've decided to take it apon myself to create rlly cool and awesome list of ship names for the aph crew

DIS-FUCKING-CLAIMER

I do NOT. ship every ship you see in this post. If u see a ship u dislike, that's fine, don't harass me or others who might ship it this is jst 4 fun.

LET'S GOOOOO

Aaron x Aphmau: ew /hj, scars, cuts,

- Red colour of blood, & purple colour of bruises it made sense 2 me

Aaron x Ein; opposites

-pretty obvious

Aaron x Kim: apple

-red apple green leaf

Aaron x Mac: primary, maroon

Aaron x Nana: caked fur

-they got primary colours

-idk it sounded cool

-ultima Aaron, + Nana like 2 bake

Aaron x Noi: fire

-red & orange are the main colours of fire so it made sense ig

Aaron x Pierce: opposites, blue blood

-same as ein but I chose blue blood cuz deamos have diff colour blood & normal blood is red so ye

Aaron x zane: midnight, blood moon

-I feel like blood moon makes more sense cuz yk zanes all dark and emo

Aphmau x Ein: analogous, galaxy

-there colours r beside each other so they look nice & galaxy cuz blue & purple are the main colours when u think of one

Aphmau x kim: feather

-aph has Irene's wings purple and teal r cool brid colours

Aphmau x mac: complementary

-self explanatory

Aphmau x Nana: sweet potato

-ONE OF MY FAVE RAGH

Aphmau x Noi: fragrant, orange lavender

- orange & lavender apparently taste/smell good 2gether, 2nd 1 is self explanatory

Aphmau x Pierce: navy

-purple and blue make navy

Aphmau x Zane: black lavender, mist

-1st is obv 2nd mist is dark but also calm like the smell/colour of lavender

Ein x kim: glasses,

-Ein can't rlly read Kim likes books

Ein x mac: Ena /j

-I couldn't think of any srry lol

Ein x Nana: exploding cupcakes,

-Nana's r always great this one's a bit long tho

Ein x Noi: complimentary,

-self explanatory + I couldn't think of anything else

Ein x Pierce: piercing

- cuz I said so

Ein x Zane: bombs

-they both work on bombs n stuff (also ref 2 that 1 vid where they fall inlove)

Kim x Mac: nature

-Kim's all teal/green and Mac likes giraffes

Kim x Nana: cook book

-again Nana at it again with the best names

Kim x Noi: fantasy

-Kim likes books Noi is a deamos from another realm

Kim x Pierce: tertiary

-there a mix of primary&secondary colours

Kim x Zane: nerds, sci-fi

-I don't think I need 2 explain

Mac x Nana: exotic

-Nana bakes giraffes r cool mix em together boom exotic ass cupcakes

Mac x Noi: sunset

-simaller 2 Aaron there right beside each other & r colours in sunsets

Mac x Pierce: Ena /j

-again I'm srry mac

Mac x Zane: bumblebee, bees

-NVM MAC PULLING UP⁉️

Nana x Noi: cupcake, Sweet's

-There both cuties

Nana x Pierce: bby shower(get it cuz), cotton candy

-1st ones a joke but they both got them cotton candy colours

Nana x Zane: catnip, robo kitty,

- cat rlly explain the first one but the second one is just based off that one animation meme trend

Noi x Pierce: deamos, dusk, dawn

-very boring but the pics of dusk & dawn I found had rlly pretty mixes of blue and orange

Noi x Zane: pornhub,(JOKE) Halloween, autumn, Lantern

-there colours r great! (Not just cuz of the 1st one sicko) lanterns my personal fav

Pierce x Zane: Android

- again don't rlly know how 2 explain it, it jst seemed right

AND THAT'S IT GOD THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG POST

[misc-obeyme]

Okay okay I was not at all expecting the new lesson to drop so soon. I was in the middle of writing that nsfw Barbatos prompt when I got the alert yesterday and was like what?!

They're really going hard with the lore and stuff, huh?? I don't have time to write a ton about it, but there's so much to process I have to write a short thing, so here I am.

Spoilers below!

Okay, Barbatos is Nightbringer. Right? I mean it's not like we haven't had a TON of proof, but I did think it would be interesting if it all turned out to be a misdirection. But at this point... I'm like... it's not, though, right?

I am feeling a tiny bit apprehensive about it. Because listen, it could turn out to be super cool but they could also totally screw it up.

I was just getting such villain vibes from Nightbringer and that just doesn't jibe with my understanding of Barbatos's character. So either Nightbringer is less villain-y than he seems, Nightbringer is Barb from another timeline/a different version of him, or my understanding of his character is off. Or all of the above, even!

Still we got some new stuff about him - the Celestial Realm calling him the father of all demons, huh? That's certainly interesting. And we know Barb has been around since before the Devildom really existed... also there's the whole "goes by many names" situation. I just don't see how they could have it be anybody else. Unless it's an entirely new character that we haven't met yet and that Barbatos is somehow tied to...

But anyway...

I LOVED the new lore about the Little Ds!!! I was so happy that they get to have a more important role without it changing them as being little castle cleaning helpers. See, that was well done, imo. They didn't change anything, they just gave us more info. Little Ds born from a tree, sorta fairies but call themselves demons, and we still don't really get how it works? Perfect. Also note how Barbatos is the one who knows all this lore...

Also, without spoilers, I loved the hard lesson lol.

Anyway, Little Ds are great, Little D No 2 is especially my fave, and I am so interested to see how this part of the story goes.

I was gonna stop there, but really quick I HAVE to talk about Mammon and Asmo oh my god...

Their fight in the library!!!

I mean of course it's bad when the boys fight and obviously Mammon is not in his right mind, but the way Asmo just goes for it, like he is ready to throw down.

And all the other brothers are staying surprisingly calm and trying to stop them!!

I just really love how Asmo seems like the kind of character who wouldn't jump in to fight immediately, but in reality he absolutely is. It reminded me of the way he went after those rumor spreading demons in the Princess event (which is funny since he was doing it to protect Mammon in that event).

And then Lucifer's just like ugh what now lol. I can't deny that using a little bit of his magic to knock Mammon out entirely was pretty cool.

Anyway, I'm worried about Mammon, but I'm sure this is all going to be resolved somehow. I found it very interesting how when we go into his mind with Little D No 2 at the very end, we're in the Celestial Realm. Wonder what that's about? Hmm.

Okay, now I'm done. Sorry for the lack of screenshots this time around, but I just didn't have time to fit them in lol.

[active-mind-15]

I finally updated my Akashi fic

After six years of writer's block, I finally did it. I'm sure if you've been seeing my posts within the past few weeks, you'd know I was working on trying to update one of my old KNB fics, and now I think I'm finally comfortable with sharing it with everyone else.

The fic is called Accidental Siblings, based on fanart by one of my fave Akashi accounts, @clubakashi (they haven't posted in a long while, but I hope they're doing well). I liked this piece of fanart so much that almost eight years ago, I decided to make an AU where after the Jabberwock vs. Vorpal Swords match, Bokushi is reborn again but as a five-year-old child outside of Akashi's body that has retained all of his knowledge and memories from when he was still in Akashi's subconscious.

I actually wrote a lot for this story, but eventually, life got in the way, and the lack of official content from the KNB realm when the series officially ended just really put a damper on things. And I ended up moving away from the fandom for some time.

But now that I'm back and my passion for KNB has been reignited, I wanted to go back to finish old stories of mine, and this one was at the top of my priority list. So I dug up the latest unfinished chapter for this fic a few weeks ago and managed to complete it. The latest chapter (chapter 20) was written at two different time periods. The first 5k words were written when I was between the ages of 18 and 20 (I'm almost 25 now for context as to how long ago that was), and the last 6k words were written by me over the past two weeks. I only made minor edits to my old chapters in order to preserve the essence of my old writing style, but I did clean up the formatting and correct the timeline to match the canon just so it's an easier read.

Anyway, here's the link if anyone wants to start from Chapter 1, so I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think! I would be fascinated to see how people perceive the writings of my jobless 17 y/o self. Go easy on me, though. 🤭

[spyridonya]

How the Drow Became Problematic Faves - a Badly Written Meta History of D&D

Oh, hey. It feels like newcomers to D&D via BG3 fandom have discovered the Problematic Nature of Drow via Halsin vs Minthara conflict. 

Cut because of talk of racism and it being fucking long.

Let's talk about meta, first. So, the very first usage of 'drow' came from a dialetc of Scots as a term for troll, which was used to talk about all sorts of evil spirits. When Gary Gygax had to make a war game, he decided he'd make evil elves. They were based on 'black elves' in the Prose Edda and saw the word 'Drow' in a dictionary that claimed it was a term for underground elves who were skilled workers in metal. Being a white guy in the late 70s, he saw no issues in making evil elves actually black. For the next decade or so, they were canon fodder for modules and novels and always evil and repugnant. 

In the late 80s and early 90s, R. A. Salavotre and Ed Greenwood slapped on the concept of drow society being an evil dystopian society run by dominatrixes who emasculate men, in the Forgotten Realms setting. There were a few token dark elves, namely the super popular Drizzt Do'Urden, who were good but the majority were not. Like Gary, RA and Ed were white guys who did not see the problem of black elves and putting their kink into deep lore. Not all settings went by this, Dragonlance for example had drow just be ‘evil assholes elves who got kicked out of their society’ and look like just any other elves.  

(Quick note on Drizzt, he became iconic not because of his race but so much as being an outsider to two cultures while being a badass. I might not be a fan personally, but I know the appeal of the character.) 

The 90s came along and by the end of the decade, TSR was bought by Wizards of he Coast who proceeded to make the Drow even Grim Darker during 3rd edition  to go along with the times. Yet, too, didn’t stop to think about the problematic issues that were being brought up by more thoughtful fans - WotC hired another module company who wrote about  drow women being so fucking evil, they an orgasm like reaction when embryo killed each other in the womb. 

4th Edition came and went. No one talks about those times. Drow existed as evil. 

2014, 5e comes along and drow are so fucking popular, they’re included in the Player’s Handbook, rather in errata based books, as ‘humanoid’. In fact other evil races were introduced under the label of ‘humanoid’, indicating orcs and goblinkin. About a year later, Matt Mercer switched up his TTRPG to 5e because it was an easier system for his friends to understand, and they began to show their games online under Critical Role while a year after that Stranger Things came out and became a smash hit. 

Between these two, D&D explodes in popularity with an entirely new demographic group that began to outnumber the old guard. This larger and more diverse popular saw drow and other ‘evil races’ and went ‘wtf’. They didn’t exactly like the concept of ‘an always evil race’ and discovered the problematic issues that collected over the last several decades not with just drow, but with ‘monstrous’ races. 

WotC wanting money began to listen - just really slowly, and not so much in Forgotten Realms.They dropped the ‘always evil’ from the stat block but refused to change anything else to their older settings. 

(Incidentally, the company that made Grim Dark Drow really disliked 4e. They decided to make their own take of 3.5e with Hookers and Blackjack and made Pathfinder, which was supposed to be Edgier Game than D&D. However, a lot of people they hired were quick to notice the nature of the game and say, ‘nah, this shit is stupid’. As of now, Pazio is retconning drow from their lore. - That my friends, is called a character arc.)

During this 46 year span, drow have been fucking evil because their goddess made them do it as justification of their evilness - and not because they were black or born into it. In fact, Lloth, Gruumsh and Maglubiyet are the reasons why the Drow, Orc, and Goblinkin society is so evil and they’re also why they can function as a society when in truth, they all should have fallen apart. And no one has bothered to change this lore. In fact they avoid mentioning this lore rather than changing it to avoid conflict with older fans and newer fans. 

Then BG3 hits and hits harder than anyone expected. A lot of new fans come on aboard and really begin to like Drow, who are super sexy evil elves, not knowing the lore and kicking the problematic issues down the road. Larian was a bit quicker than TSR/WotC to realize ‘wow, this is fucking yikes’ and decided to make Seldarine drow. I’ve been playing since I was young teen, in the last years of 3.xe. I saw a lot of wanna-be Drizzt and Good Aligned Drow that were played variably, but there were a lot of people who loved the concept. While Seldarine aren’t a concept in TTRPG canon proper, the idea of Seldarine drow has existed for decades at tables, and Larian acknowledging that is something I love.

But they made Llothsworn Drow as the ‘lore compliant drow’ because WotC hasn’t changed drow in decades. 

The thing is, Drow being Problematic Faves isn’t because WotC is wildly racist on purpose, it’s just that during the majority of Drow being A Thing in D&D, they have been Sexy and Evil Villains and play the role of Misunderstood Outsider (though this recently has been taken over by tieflings).

In fact, I’m seeing a lot of new fans getting kicked in the teeth when characters react to a Llothsworn drow as flat out evil and not being judged by their actions, because they don’t know it’s been a thing in D&D for years with narrative excuses to justify in-universe racism. And then there are some players who make an evil Llothsworn drow and still get upset despite playing into in-universe reasons for the excuses of racism.

We’re seeing it as a reaction to datamined information with little context other than an abused white guy feels uncomfortable with an abused black woman - and it’s super hard to justify in-universe reasons for this because in the real world, a white guy is going to be listened to and believed regardless of it being true or not.

Essentially, the drow are a fucking mess due to D&D ignoring the racial implications of drow in the real world for nearly 50 years. The only way to fix it is making major lore changes, which is something they’re reluctant to do because they’re making their errata books so damn light on lore as to avoid conflict and the model sells.

Will this change with BG3? I don’t know. But I kinda hope so.