#this probably only half makes sense

[zer0expektation]

yknow what, of all the possible spin offs spn could've or should've had above all I wish they made one about Max and Alicia Banes

like I'm sorry, but their family has about a million mirrors to the winchesters that I find endlessly interesting, plus at least one season with them navigating life now that Max kind of has a time limit and Alicia is only alive for as long as he is bc of his new magic, AND the fact that Max can literally control her and and and

idk I know that at this point in time with the show the quality in writing and overall production was only getting worse but GOD what I wouldn't give for a spin off show where Max has to face what happened and wonder whether that's still his sister or not etc etc

[abyssalzones]

can I say something is this a safe space. it's kind of fascinating that ford is meant to read as a deeply repressed character and a capital s Scientist no less but he leads this other half of his life entirely dedicated to the occult. in the 70's-80's. like the historical connotations of the occult and what they represented in the united states at least seems kind of interesting in this context. for no reason in particular I find the dual aspects of "extremely dedicated to presenting as a logical, steadfast researcher trying to earn respect and social acceptance to the point of hinging all of his self worth on this vision for the future working out" and "deeply tied to the paranormal and "unsavory black magic" and everything Weird/freakish but feels like he needs to hide this aspect of himself from even the people closest to him" Very interesting. hiding six-fingered hands compulsively behind his back even if it's the emblem he puts on his journals. "what are you attracted to?" and "maybe you're simply attracted to things that hurt you" from two different points in the book. sweet dreams (are made of this) on the record player. hey does anyone know what that tarot card with a snake on it is meant to represent

[goldenspringmornings]

oh okay so now I’m fully convinced that rhys’s mom was convinced/desperately hoping his future mate/partner would be Illyrian cause why else are all the clothes she made full of slits and backless🤨sounds to me like she was planning on the female needing a lot of freedom of movement with those big ass wings. and it was only after rhys could “summon the Illyrian wings at will” that she took him to Windhaven for thirty years👀ya know, the place high fae are notoriously unwelcome🤨��who was it the bat boys were fucking around with if not the Illyrian females🤨

[brekitten]

The Therapist

There's a new therapist at school.

Normally this wouldn't really bother Peter at all, since he's never gone to see a shrink in his life and doesn't ever plan on it, but there's something... off about this woman.

She seems unassuming enough at first glance. Red hair, green eyes, bright red lipstick. But there is something in her eyes, something that Peter can only describe as a predator looking at its next prey, when she looks around the school at all of the teenagers milling about. Heck, even the way she walks makes her seem as if she is a predator stalking her prey.

It could always be some kind of power move, Peter reasons. He's met people like that before, who try to intimidate everyone around them into thinking that they are superior, that they are the apex predator and anyone who dares to cross them would pay for it dearly.

But his Spidey Sense went crazy around her.

He tries to brush it off as paranoia. He'd pulled an all-nighter last night in the lab with Tony because neither of them had been able to sleep, and he hadn't been sleeping well even before that. (Funny, how it had all started the night after he first bumped into the new therapist in the halls.) So his Spidey Sense is probably out of wack because he's tired. Simple as that.

But it seems like everyone in the school is depressed. Even Ned, who can't even muster up the energy and enthusiasm to talk about Legos or Star Wars or even the weather. It worries Peter.

Because it all started when that therapist came to the school.

He can't ignore it forever, he knows that. There is only so long his Spidey Sense can tell him that she is danger danger danger before he finally listens. He has to do something to help everyone.

So he researches.

And he falls into the rabbit hole of ghosts and ectoplasm and secret government organizations and the little, unassuming town of Amity Park, Illinois.

He doesn't sleep that night.

When he comes to school the next morning, Dr. Penelope Spectra looks him dead in the eyes, and smiles.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

speaking of shidou and karasu in my mind their relationship is just that one tik tok audio that’s like “is it me or are we BEST FRIENDS 😄⁉️💖” “yeah…i mean i’m definitely YOUR best friend 😟 and that’s great for you!!”

[acidicpenumbra]

two "ultimate" level douchebags

[grapetriip]

anyone up for bg3 aftg au w dark urge neil

[birdsong-warriors]

SwiFT, WE CAN SEE YOU.

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Part 1: Friend and Family

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[kunikiiida-kuuun]

Personal vent time

This is a purely personal complaint but I think one of the major reasons why I'm so disappointed with how things are currently going in the manga is how they kept teasing us with this "once the agency is together there isn't anything we can't do" thing and ultimately divided them again AND killed off Kunikida. They took the idea away before we even got anything 😭😭

They even had Atsushi say this in one chapter ago which got my hopes high and now obviously it's not gonna happen with how easily Amenogozen can slurp people up. I know eventually it's gonna be a SSKK battle in the end but heck, I'd take any crumbs they would offer but give us something?? I just wanna see some ADA action, is that too much to ask for?? 😭😭

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

I just got to reading a translation of "The wooing of Emer" online. Why is no-one (especially the online encyclopedias) talking about the fact Emer is fomorian?

why aren't the online encyclopaedias talking about it: bc they are not that useful for medieval irish literature most of the time, tbh, being heavily simplified and reliant on secondary sources that are often themselves not particularly reliable (although there have been efforts to improve some pages inc. wikipedia pages). loads of fun details missing from them, always

why isn't anyone else talking about it: eh. probably two main reasons

there's a lot of it around. cú chulainn's got a fomorian grandma (on lug's side) and no one ever really talks about that either. it's not that big a deal. i'm sure he's not the only one; can't throw a rock around here without hitting someone with a fomorian uncle or something. there's a lot more overlap / interaction between them and the tuatha dé danann than a simple oppositional binary would suggest, and family trees get fucky in general. being related to the fomoire doesn't automatically = being fomorian yourself bc belonging and kin-groups and stuff are a bit more complicated than that

i'm pretty sure it's only mentioned in tochmarc emire and only in passing and not directly in relation to emer herself, so it's easily overlooked even if you're dealing with that text and a lot of people will be dealing with other texts. it's also only in the later, longer redaction of the text and not in the earliest one, although so are a lot of things. if the authors thought it was important as part of her heritage -- whether they saw it as a good or a bad thing -- they would bring it up more often, but TE seems to be the only one that bothers to give background information about forgall's family tree, so mostly it looks like they think it's not that relevant. (although as it is not a particular focus of mine, it's entirely possible it comes up somewhere else and i just haven't noticed)

e.g. you might expect it to come up in fled bricrenn but it doesn't

sidenote: why the fuck henderson translations "ben ind fir as dech" as "wife of the best wight" i have no idea. it's just "fer"! it's just man! why are you trying to make cú chulainn sound even weirder than usual! it's a mystery to me. other than the fact it's from 1899 and people did whatever they wanted at that point tbh

(the parenthetical explaining the meaning of "Manach" is also editorial and not in the Irish; the meaning "tricky" may be more suitable bc it might have something to do with clessa, but that's getting into my friend emmet's in-progress research so i won't delve deeper there)

also, tethra, who is supposedly forgall's uncle in TE and who is described in the text as a "king of the fomoire" is a bit of a weird one iirc and there's potentially more going on with him than that phrasing suggests, although i can't remember the details and that's getting into cath maige tuired territory, at which point you're better off asking @margridarnauds bc it's not a topic i know a huge amount about

finally i'll be honest another factor is probably that there hasn't been a huge amount written about emer as a character. there's been a lot written about texts that she's in and her function there, but less on her just like, as a person (bc medieval celtic studies is a very small field, there are a lot of texts and characters, and there hasn't been that much written about anyone really). so lots of things don't get talked about. doesn't mean they're not worth talking about. just means nobody's got around to it yet.

[icewindandboringhorror]

... why he sit like this

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Melatonin

A FluffyNight drabble to celebrate reaching 50 followers on this account. It's pretty short & not beta read, but I think it's alright for being written in one sitting. Happy reading!

Beep! Beep! Beep! The sound of Ccino's alarm forced him awake, pulling him out of the pleasant dreams he had been having. Even now, Ccino could feel them slipping from his skull, leaving him wondering what exactly he had been dreaming about.

The continued beeping of his alarm pulled him from his thoughts & Ccino groaned, pushing his face into his pillow. Blindly reaching for it, Ccino attempted to turn it off without looking, knocking his hand against the other things on the nightstand before finally managing to push the button to silence it.

Blissful quiet filled the room as Ccino felt Nightmare shift next to him. Arms wrapped around him & pulled him close, holding Ccino close to Nightmare. Ccino smiled sleepily, turning on his side so he faced towards the other. He hummed quietly as he observed Nightmare looking back at him with a lidded socket, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Whispering so as to not ruin the atmosphere, Ccino questioned worriedly. Nightmare shook his head & moved slowly, readjusting them both until they were situated comfortably against each other.

Ccino smiled wider & closed his sockets, holding the other in his arms. Together in each other's arms, they both quietly drifted back to sleep.

Bonus scene!

A shrill beeping jolted them both back awake, causing Ccino to jump in Nightmare's arms. Grumbling to himself, he slowly sat up & reached over to the alarm, shutting it off.

Sitting up properly, Ccino stretched his arms above his head & groaned as he heard his joints pop, rubbing the bottom of his sockets with one hand. Picking up his phone & turning it on, his sockets widened in shock as he let out a loud, "Shoot!"

Scrambling & throwing the blanket off of himself, Ccino barely noticed as Nightmare sat up in alarm. "Is everything alright?" Ccino stammered out a reply, mild panic in his voice as he began changing out of his pajamas.

"Everything's fine! We just overslept a bit!" Relaxing slightly, Nightmare observed as Ccino got ready for the day, rushing around quickly so he wouldn't be later than he already was. If he concentrated, he could swear that he heard the meows of hungry cats impatiently calling for their breakfast.

Hastily walking over to Nightmare, having gotten dressed quickly, Ccino leaned over & placed a chaste kiss against his lovers cheek, smiling. "Love you, see you later!" With that he exited the room, leaving Nightmare sitting alone on the bed with only a warm imprint of where Ccino laid as company.

[i-will-change-this-someday]

Saw a thing about Frankenstein where they were like “Victor’s so selfish, his family dies and he finds a way to make himself the victim.”

Am I crazy? Cause… Victor is the victim. Like I feel like that’s pretty clear, the Creature kills all of Victor’s loved ones to hurt Victor.

Obviously yes, William, Justine, Elizabeth, and Henry are all victims as well, but they’re not the target. Victor is the target, to the Creature the rest of them are just collateral damage.

[omarwolaeth]

Duel Runners run on energy generated by their (assumedly expensive) Momentum Cores, so their power supply is as infinite as how much you can move it. Can't say the same about real life though.

(Text written from linked post's images)

[flame-of-tar-valon]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by @ferrocyan -- thanks so much!! Most of my writing mutuals have already been tagged in this by someone else -- so if you're seeing this and you haven't been tagged yet, consider this your Call to Adventure!

This WIP is one I wrote the first two chapters of for NaNoWriMo back in 2015, then revived in 2019, and again in 2021, but never made it more than 3 days into. Here's the opening of the prologue:

Once upon a time, there was a darkness. And in that darkness lurked a terrible secret, a secret that would imperil a peace that had reigned over the town of Widowsveil for centuries. The secret was a beast, a power, an omen — the secret was married to the greatest treasure of all of Widowsveil: the Book of Iron.

Nobody remembers where the town of Widowsveil got its name. In fact, all of the origins of Widowsveil were long forgotten, lost to the ruins of the old city of the old nation that had long since fallen into dust by the time the first band of travelers, weary and looking for the crudest shelter, had found themselves among the stones. What was once a night’s shelter became a frequented waypoint, then a bustling market — and then, the first treasure hunters had arrived to pick over the ruins like vultures discovering the carrion of the day.

And one day, they found the Book of Iron.

From that day forward, it was as if a god itself had ascended. The bustling market was supplanted by an equally-bustling church, and the influx of treasure hunters dwindled to a smaller train of curious pilgrims. The road taken by the first travelers to the town of Widowsveil was abandoned as shorter and safer roads were built, leaving Widowsveil perpetually out-of-the-way, left to age and die. 

The decline of Widowsveil may be attributed to the fact that it was, in fact, haunted. But the decline was slow, because the people of Widowsveil were tenacious and capable, and they had spent centuries learning how to dig their roots into the toughest soil and blossom, year after year, despite everything. 

It was particular happenstance that one day, a knife wormed its way into the middle of the road while old Miss Berthe was out to buy food for her chickens. Knives are, perhaps, not strictly sinful — they would be better described as either heretical, portentous, or diabolic, depending on whom one asked. Regardless of the religious terminology, the people of Widowsveil were long familiar with the dangers that came of a knife finding itself in their determinedly peaceful town. They are best left alone — and kept far, far away from the mountain at the heart of the town. But not all townsfolk were equally resolute when faced with such an omen, and thus fled Miss Berthe from the road, screaming as if there had been a murder committed. And, in a way, there had.

It took several days for one of the minor priests, an apprentice exorcist by the name of Mathieu, to convince the town that he had cast out the vindictive spirit lurking within the contraband. The market reopened, and the evil instrument was delivered to the head of the town’s church, Father Nestor.

Perhaps it was mere coincidence that Father Nestor passed away mere days after the discovery. Perhaps it was the shock that unsettled his aging bones — never having had to deal with the purification rites for the presence of a real, flesh-and-blood knife before. Perhaps putting such an emotional toll on someone so infirm was a failing of the townsfolk, and of Mathieu in particular. 

In any case, Mathieu atoned by taking the burden of the knife upon himself. He commissioned chains of the purest metal the town blacksmith could obtain, which would be used to bind the knife around the neck of the imperious statue that sat behind the altar. Mathieu himself used all the knowledge of theology he possessed to carve the correct runes into the blade with the utmost precision, binding in place the evil that all knives contained by nature. The dagger was forgotten there on its perch for several years, as if the statue had absorbed the knife, cleansing it of evil; or, at least, as if the statue’s presence would divert the evil from inflicting calamity upon the town.

Alas, it is one of the first laws — spiritual binding cannot be permanent, unless it be exacted by an eternal light. The darkness shall reach up and claim what is left unattended. 

Some decades later, when all of poor old Miss Berthe’s chickens had long ago perished of age, the purity of the metal chains had tarnished, whether from the ravages of time or from the corrupting influence of so evil an instrument held in such close proximity. The chains finally gave way one cold autumn evening, as the children of Widowsveil gathered for a rehearsal. The town was preparing for the dark season, training their children in the songs that would keep the darkness out of the people’s hearts, just as the lamps kept the darkness out of their homes.

Mathieu — he was old now, too — was running late in packing his things to head to the rehearsal hall. If he had been a bit faster, more punctual, the church would have been empty as the knife slipped free from the weary chain and tumbled to the ground. But Mathieu was there, and he heard the ungodly clatter of iron against stone, and it filled him with dread from head to toe.

But dusk was falling soon, and the children's choir could not wait forever. So Mathieu, arms laden already with sheet music and candles and bells and leather portfolios to distribute, simply added the knife to the pile, somewhere it could not cause any more harm. It had already been exorcised, and the runes on the blade should hold, but Mathieu was not a man to take pointless risks, so he made sure to grip the knife only by its handle, and that only through a layer of cloth, which he resolved to burn as soon as possible — and certainly before nightfall.

[...]

[princescar]

It's so jarring just how big she is

This is her next to a standard funko pop (say hi paimon)