#trunks pulled

[peridotite]

guys shin is still a twink thank god

[serpentface]

Do psychotropic drugs and/or ritual play a role in any of the blightseed cultures? A pretty broad question, lol

Yeah that’s a very broad question, the answer is about as much as it tends to play roles in real history. Alcohol is pretty ubiquitous (outside of cultures that abstain from intoxicants) and used for a variety of purposes, opioids are commonly used in some parts for pain relief or recreational purposes, stimulants (usually in mild, natural forms) are used to provide extra energy, and hallucinogens are most commonly used as part of a larger religious framework (rather than for recreational purposes). Any more elaborate answer kinda has to be case by case in a certain culture or part of the setting.

I'll just take this as an opportunity to talk about the one established sect that pretty much REVOLVES around psychoactive use. This is the Scholarly Order of the Root, which is a sort of mystery religion + elite community of scholars who currently occupy the Ur-Tree and its forest in the far southern Lowlands (southeast of Imperial Wardin, on the same land mass).

The Ur-Tree is the obligatory Huge Fucking Fantasy Tree (and its surrounding forest). It’s a mass of vegetation about a mile tall and almost as old as Plant Life Itself, its upper branches are primeval plants, which become more modern the nearer they get to the ground (and each 'level' holds tiny ecosystems, some containing descendants of LONG-extinct arthropods/other small animals). Its lowest branches and the surrounding forest are contemporary plant life, and all is connected and protected by an incomparably MASSIVE fungal mycelium network (which is itself a living god).

A lot of the Scholars' more secretive practices revolve around experimentation with substance use with the goal of expanding the Mind and transcending the body to fully connect to the Dreamlands, and they have a supply chain of traders and mercenaries called Rootrunners who traffic substances into the Lowlands. Most of their psychoactive use is in a very intentional capacity and not just like, for fun, but a LOT of them are just straight up addicted to cocaine (in the form of alchemically refined bruljenum, which is used for practical purposes of its stimulant effect during long hours of work).

All known psychoactives are desirable for experimentation (particularly hallucinogens), with each having properties that either allow expansion of the Mind, transcendence of the body, or outright divine communion. Their effects are logged in great detail and interpreted to form the basis of the Scholars' understanding of the natural world and reality itself.

The most important substance is Ur-Root, which is root matter from subterranean levels of the Ur-Tree that have both their own intrinsic psychoactive substances and a very, very high concentration of living god mycelium. The tree root contains DMT and the mycelium has its own wholly unique effects (being an actual living god). They alchemically refine it into a purer, more potent form, and use it to expand beyond the body and directly commune with the Giants, a group of entities they have identified as the only true gods.

An Ur-Root trip starts off with minor visual distortion, which turns into shifting fractals that slowly obscure the vision. Eventually the senses are entirely taken over by a 'tunnel' of rapidly shifting fractals and geometries. In a complete trip, the experiencer gets a sense that they have been pushed through a membrane and entered another realm, finding themselves in a distinct experiential Space.

At this point they may encounter entities which communicate to them in a language impossible to describe but wholly understood. These beings are understood to be the Giants, or at least aspects of the Giants that mortals are capable of comprehending (they often take familiar tutelary forms of the Mantis or the Snake, or appear resembling the same type of sophont that the experiencer is, all composed of ever-shifting geometries). The experiencer often feels a sense of unconditional and endless love from these beings, though the Giants may be more hostile and may appear in the form of the Trickster (usually a cultural figure regarded as malicious, be it an animal or otherwise) in a bad trip.

(^Up until this point, this has mostly just been a DMT 'breakthrough' experience ft. 'machine elves' and the like).

They are then removed from this space and returned to something that feels like the real world, but is nearly unrecognizable. They have a sense of rapidly moving through time, and will usually see 'the spires' towards the beginning, which just so happen to look like this:

(source + some context via Implication- the spires are exactly what this art is depicting)

The experiencer continues to move across an unfathomable amount of time, occasionally 'seeing' other such flashes of unfamiliar landscapes and creatures, and yet also being devoid of all their senses, the 'seeing' is pure, unfiltered experience. There is a sense of interconnectedness with all life, and that one has become the forest (or even Life) itself. The sense of time is wildly distorted, the trip lasts only about 5 minutes but feels like an eternity and is understood as literal hundreds of millions of years.

The experiencer has usually lost any remaining sense of Self and individual consciousness during this phase (in which case this time distortion is usually a neutral or even peaceful experience), but some retain a fraction of their identity, and find themselves trapped and conscious while experiencing what feels like eternity (which can be LIFE-CHANGINGLY distressing, even after the fact).

(^This latter part of the trip is the effects of the Ur-Tree fungus).

The trip ends with a sense of rushing through the ground and back up into one's body, at which point they will abruptly return to their senses and consciousness. The details are then immediately retrieved via interview and recorded in immense detail. The whole experience is understood as having been full comprehension of the Dreamlands, communion with the Giants, and then a tour through the act of creation.

This is done as part of the initiatory practice into the inner mystery-religion of the scholars, and as needed for study by high scholar-priests. It is not taken lightly, both as it is absolute communion with the gods and reality, and in that it can be a very, very difficult experience. People who have gone through this often walk away with a permanently shifted perspective, often in a positive and/or comforting way- a sense of interconnectedness with all life, a peace with the concept of death, seeing less of a point in individual ego and the concept of Self, and comfort in the sense of divine love they (may have) experienced. This heavily influences the philosophy of the Scholars and has had effects by proxy in the religious worldviews of the region.

Details of this experience are closely guarded, and initiates are given absolutely no prior knowledge and expectations for their trip. This is seen as a necessity- their naivety will allow for a true, unfiltered experience, and can be used to gauge whether they should or should not be accepted. Those that have a distinctly bad trip upon initiation may be assumed to have been 'rejected' by the giants and thus denied full priesthood, though this largely depends on How they interpret their distressing trip- those who identify this as a test and harsh lesson in a journey to enlightenment may be accepted (as this is how fully initiated scholar-priests interpret and handle their bad trips).

This inner priesthood is only a small fraction of the Scholarly Order, and its greater function is as a hub of education and repository of knowledge, and Scholar-trained doctors can provide some of the best medical care available in the setting ('best medical care in this setting' only means so much but it's pretty solid, relatively speaking). Only a chosen few Scholars ever get to commune with the Ur-Root, and most of the divine secrets revealed in the process are kept hidden (though they indirectly influence the politics and worldview of the entire order).

[5thelement]

Kevin Durand in Abigail (2024)

[defnotkanyewest]

Prince Vegeta aka Mr Steal yo Girl vs Ran Through Yamcha

[sunforgrace]

dean “reacts in new, interesting, fucked up ways to losing cas” winchester and they’re telling me that has nothing to do with nothing in the finale after cas literally confessed his romantic love the act of which was his moment of true happiness and subsequent sacrificial death. haha okay

[drawfee-quot3s]

why did i wanna say elephant..,?

well, one of them's a rhino. that's kinda like-

that's basically an elephant

yea! just with the horns in a different spot

- karina, julia, + ralph

[direwombat]

in that awkward waiting phase where i'm ready to go but the airbnb check in isn't until 3 so i'm here twiddling my thumbs until i can take off

[schadentekkers]

[weyrleaders]

screaming rattling the bars of my cage clawing at the walls here have the church rescue but from the other side

as with before we got some violence here

Now that group didn’t look like they were invited.

Ray leans over the edge of the building, watching as a squad of seven dressed in black tactical gear file out of two vans and make for the door. They don’t have anything too fancy, from the looks of it. Just handguns and a few small knives poorly-concealed on their belts.

He’s just reaching the fire escape when the shouting and gunfire starts, and he makes it to the ground as the doors burst open and out comes Aster, carrying Orla in his arms.

Ray’s face twists into a snarl. If she’s hurt that badly they may have to—

Orla steps away from Aster, completely unhurt. Ray can tell from the set of her shoulders that she’s pissed.

Aster’s already halfway to the door when she shouts something after him. He doesn’t slow or look back at her, just runs inside the building.

So Loverboy wasn’t getting their gravely-wounded boss out of the line of fire. He just swooped in and carried her off like some sort of helpless damsel. Ray coughs to fight off a laugh.

Aster is so in trouble.

Orla must hear him coming, because she turns as he trots to a stop next to her.

“I’m not going to ask what the hell you’re doing here,” she says. “We can’t get back in the front.”

“We’d probably be walking into an ambush,” he agrees.

The door opens slowly and a young woman creeps outside. Ray watches her out of the corner of his eye, and he’s reasonably sure Orla is doing the same.

“Jax has the keys, doesn’t he.”

Orla nods. The woman presses herself against the wall, trying to slip past them. Ray waits until she turns her back to pounce.

He slaps a hand over her mouth before she can scream, pinning her against the wall. She’s not dressed like one of the party-crashers. Must be a Viper.

The woman flails, and Ray tightens his grip with a theatrical growl. Orla leans in on her other side, and the woman goes still.

“There’s another way out of the building, I’m sure,” says Orla. “Where?”

“If you scream, I’ll break your neck,” Ray sing-songs. He’s lying, of course, because dead women tell no tales, but she doesn’t need to know that. He uncovers her mouth.

“Tunnel!” She gasps. “There’s a tunnel—Underground hideout. It connects to the church a few blocks over.”

Orla gives Ray a nod, and he tosses the woman aside. She scrambles to her feet and runs.

“I think I know the church,” he says.

“Our Saint of Mercy,” Orla replies. “We passed it on the way here, and it’s the only church close enough. Get there while I find a car.”

Ray takes off, hopping over a trash can to get into the alley.

It probably doesn’t take long to get to the church. But it feels like a century, knowing Jax and Aster are right under his feet, just out of reach. 

(Which is a thought that Ray files away to revisit never.)

Ray almost considers seeing if he can nab anyone down there, but the odds of the tunnels being close enough to the surface for him to pull it off without seeing his target are slim to none. So he just runs instead, ignoring how his breath tears his lungs raw.

The few people he encounters are quick to get out of the way, shouting profanities that he’s too wired to catch. He can see the steeple up ahead, just barely taller than the surrounding buildings.

The cracked parking lot is empty, so the strangers probably haven’t got someone watching the place. Amateurs.

Ray doesn’t bother to check, just books it across the lot to the side door. He shoves a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and slides his newly-liberated spiked knuckles onto his hands.

He expected the door to be locked, so it slams against the wall when he tears it open.

Jax is running toward him, hauling an alarmingly-bloodied Aster behind him. Five of the seven people who went in are in pursuit, two closing in while the other three take aim.

Ray’s a violent sort of guy, sure. He’s broken noses, set fires, stabbed whoever Orla said to stab wherever she said to stab them. He’s cut water mains and break lines and more than a few throats.

He doesn’t normally black out first, though.

When Ray comes to, he’s on his hands and knees on the bloody basketball court, catching his breath. His face throbs in time with his racing heart and his mouth tastes like iron. Might just be the adrenaline, but he doesn’t really hurt anywhere else.

He stands, surveying the battlefield. There’s a man near the door, lying in a pool of blood with his arm outstretched toward it. A woman against the wall, hands lax in her lap, jaw hanging on by tendon and skin. Two more against another wall, one haloed by blood and viscera where Ray must’ve slammed them against it until they stopped moving. The other’s throat is shredded, and Ray licks his lips curiously, noting a nick near the corner of his mouth. He glances down at his shirt.

“Arts and crafts day,” he mutters, picking at the red stain down the front. His collar is probably soaked too, but with any luck it’s not obvious against the red fabric. The tag feels tacky when he checks to make sure it’s still there.

He hears someone hiss in pain, and slowly turns to see the last member of the merry band trying to slink toward the door that must lead back down into the tunnels.

Their eyes meet, and Ray sees the fear in their eyes.

Might as well finish the job. Leave no witnesses that Orla will have to send Aster for. He darts over, drawing back his fist. They have enough time to raise their arms in a futile attempt to block his punch, but of course they fail. They collapse, blood spilling across the floor.

Damn, he missed these beauties. He raises a clenched fist to kiss one metal spike, only to sputter a second later to spit out a stray hair.

Right.

Ray crosses his impromptu abattoir and steps outside.

Jax is, once again, just on the other side. Gun in hand, poised to charge back in. He straightens, lowering the pistol, and stares. Ray grins as Jax looks him up and down.

Fuck, he wants to kiss him. Wants to see if Jax will lick the taste of iron from his mouth. Wonders if Jax would lie still under his hands as assures himself that yes, Jax hasn’t been hurt, or would he be too busy doing the same to Ray? Would he even care enough to worry?

“Did you fucking bite someone?” Jax asks after what seems like hours.

Ray can’t hold back the laugh it startles out of him.

“Woof, woof,” he replies.

[apollos-boyfriend]

the nature of college living is that sometimes only one person has a car and sometimes there’s 8 of you and. well. you gotta get home somehow so you just break SO many traffic safety laws and someone ends up in the trunk

[khruschevshoe]

Jim Jimenez and Lucius Spriggs

It's the fear, and not the ghost

That leaves me haunted, haunted

See what a life you lead:

You're an anchor for all the heaviest

Regrets inside of you

Escape; we collect mistakes

I will carry them home

-The Crane Wives, Not the Ghost

Lucius carries his own wreckage around from Blackbeard’s time as god, but it’s a different sort of shipwreck, a different sort of chain. There is a grief, but not a guilt. At least, not anymore. While he was trapped, he felt guilty for surviving when he wasn’t sure if Pete was still alive, but once Blackbeard was gone, he didn't have to carry a giant length of crimes around his neck because Blackbeard had told him that either he committed these atrocities, or he'd die, and he had to get back to Olu and protect everyone else at all costs.

Jim isn’t going to downplay the way that that trunk haunts Lucius. Its ghost still physically haunts him, in the form of his dizzy spells, but he doesn’t have wanted posters. He doesn’t have crimes. He doesn’t have the shame of murder and the blood of others clinging to his hands. He doesn’t have to look over his shoulder in case someone is hunting him-

Or, rather, scratch that last one. Because Lucius doesn’t have to look over his shoulders due to people hunting him for a bounty, but someone did murder him in cold blood. Jim had to live with threats for months, up until the moment Blackbeard actually shot Izzy; Lucius had to live with first-hand knowledge of hands that were willing to shove him overboard.

Jim doesn’t know what ghosts Lucius clings to. They only know what ghosts cling to them, what ghosts dig their claws in and refuse to let go, no matter how many times Jim tries to bury them for good.

-aletterinthenameofsanity, you will never slip away (you’ll find me waiting here for you)

Founding members of the "Fuck Blackbeard" club (and "Fuck the People Who Raised Me" club as well). Two of my three favorite characters in the series. They are there for each other at the critical moments and understand each other so well (and have a great dynamic when Mel is added in Season 3). Also, the fact that their friendship begins with Lucius stealing a dagger for Jim AFTER Jim literally nearly kills Lucius gets me every time.

Special thanks to @possumsmushroom, who I was talking to about Lucius & Jim and who is an amazing artist!

@polikate @angxlwiings @yuenity @bricksbloggyplace

[snckt]

definitely just got covered in spiders 😭

[jordsthejellyfish]

I just want the shark-loving little boys who show up to my job to know that I am one of them

[sleevebuscemii]

like this post if you think joseph from the kia service station at [redacted] blvd in [redacted] should kill himself.

[kris48]

Brian Coleman dominating Chit Martinez...

[fragglez]

every time I watch a war related movie and they play the reveille i get spooked i HATE that melody