The scallop thing seems to be because they have 2 different retinas, and therefore process LED lights differently from other shellfish!

Let's see. 200 eyes with 2 retinas each. I can see why . . . They would enjoy a disco party . . .

While on the subject, my favourite subclasses (so far) for each D&D 5e class:

Artificer: Gonna be honest, I don’t do much with artificers, but just going on vibes, while I understand it’s not the most mechanically brilliant of the options, I still just love Alchemist. I just like me some bubbling beakers, you know?

Barbarian: Ancestral Guardian. I love Zealot, I love Wild Magic, I could be persuaded towards Beast, particularly for small characters (scuttly little beast barbarian gnome, I like the vibes), but it’s still Ancestral Guardian. I want to be a barbarian with a pack of ghosts following them around!

Bard: For the longest time, it was Lore, for similar reasons that Knowledge clerics are my joint first favourite clerics. It feels like the old Irish bards, the oral knowledge and magic, and I had a ghoulish little half-elven lore bard named Feyla Thenn who was a lot of fun. But recently … I really like Creation? It definitely does have that spellsinger vibe, singing things into being, and honestly the ability to just sing myself up 50ft of rope, or a grappling hook, or a ladder, or a key, is just … endlessly useful and fun.

Cleric: If I have to pick one, singular, then Twilight. But it is two, because every time I make a cleric, Twilight and Knowledge have a fist fight in my head, and the only reason Twilight wins is because it’s prettier. I like twinkling sparkly bits. But Knowledge is forever there, loyal and true, waiting for me to return to it. (Tempest is the runner up, because I like big booms and I cannot lie. Also ocean).

Druid: Stars. No competition. If I make a druid, they’re gonna be a Stars druid, unless there’s a compelling setting reason for them to be anything else. I like land druids, I’ll flirt with spores, but as a stars druid I get to turn into a mobile starfield and smite people, and there’s just no beating that.

Fighter: Like the artificer, I don’t do much with fighter, but both Rune Knights and Eldritch Knights have a bit of a draw to them. Particularly Rune Knights. I like the hulking, placid, but smarter and more dangerous than you think sort of vibes they have.

Monk: Again, not my class, but I do enjoy a Mercy Monk. I also weirdly have a fondness for the Sun Soul? I like shiny things and radiant damage, but also the Sun Soul gives me kind of anime vibes? Channeling your ki into a radiant aura. IDK, I’m just weirdly fond of the Sun Soul as a concept.

Paladin: As we’ve discussed, a threeway fight between Redemption, Watchers and Devotion, but my love of John Donne and the imagery of weary gothic knights in a world of darkness forever pulls me towards Devotion first. Though, you know. Cosmic horror definitely gives Watchers some points, and I like the mercy first ethos of Redemption.

Ranger: Fey Wanderer. I like skills and languages! For themes and imagery, though, Swarmkeeper. I want a warforged ‘scarecrow’ ranger with a flock of crows. I want a dhampir or changeling swarmkeeper with a swarm of moths. I like swarms. Swarms are good. I love the imagery.

Rogue: Phantom. Again, fairly big gap between this and the closest runner up. I really like ghosts? Like with the Ancestral Barbarian, I just really like ghosts, and the story potential of a character that is perpetually followed by them. Aided by them. I will also give some points to Swashbuckler, though, because I enjoy a good old fashioned daring scoundrel, and I really like swashbuckler movies.

Sorcerer: Aberrant Mind. Again, I enjoy the horror-themed subclasses? Though having played a Clockwork Soul, I also like their whole ‘return to centre’ sort of feel. And, you know. I enjoy a tempest cleric, so Storm sorcerers also get a look in. And Draconic, because ‘my grandma is a green dragon’ is always fun. I think sorcerer is the main class where I kind of like everybody and will give them all a whirl.

Warlock: Fathomless or GOOlock. Neck and neck. I do enjoy a Genielock, there’s fun to be had with Bottled Respite, and I have a fair few ideas for Celestial too, because I like the idea of being hired, on a mercenary basis, to aid the forces of good. I love the idea of some pragmatic deva somewhere just hiring, no convictions necessary, I will simply pay you in magic to fix this evil for me. It’s a great vibe. But Fathomless and GOOlock fill my cosmic horror love so well. I think the edge might go to Fathomless. Because tentacle. And also ocean. Heh.

Wizard: Illusion. Scribes and Abjuration hold joint second place, I love them both dearly. Bookish wizards and tanky wizards are excellent. But I love the diggy, trickster, seeker nature of illusionists. I love the playing with reality, the use of illusion to hide or reveal truth, the philosophical underpinning of a character that chooses, fully consciously, to pursue this school of magic. Also Phantasmal Force is an evil, evil spell, and I love it. Pick up the Metamagic Adept feat and get subtle spell, have a tonne of fun.

There are probably not surprising for most people, but I hadn’t gone through it by class before. So. Here we are?

Book Review 33 - Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

This was the third work of really classic sci I read in June, and the second that’s probably more famous as the raw material for an adaptation than as a book in its own right. Though in fairness the Tarkovsky movie is as far as I’m aware a better adaptation of this than Shadows of Chernobyl is of Roadside Picnic. Anyway, all to say that I think I’m starting to get used to the sort of abruptness and lack of narration regarding the protagonist’s emotions that seem to have been common in sci fi from the 60s-70s.

Solaris takes places on an eponymous alien world, almost entirely covered in a vast and strange ocean-like body with only half a Europe’s worth of rocky islands scattered across its surface. The story follows Kriss, a scientist, as he arrives for a posting on the skeleton crew living in a station floating above the ocean and studying it. As he arrives, he learns that the only member of the crew he personally knew had died the day before, and that the only two residents are acting paranoid and erratic; this all starts making sense when something that seems to all appearances to be his dead ex-girlfriend appears and starts talking to him, and he learns that the other two have doppelgangers of their own bothering them. Things spiral from there.

So, I’m not sure if this is a cosmic horror story, exactly, but it’s not not one either. The overriding theme is the limits of human rationality and understanding, the total impossibility of what we’d recognize as communication with something truly alien, the feeling of smallness and insignificance in the face of vast and strange and awe-inspiring. The first chapter of the book includes an intellectual history of the Solarists, going over decades of study and all the discarded theories and failed experiments that have made the posting such a dead end as the bright lights of science moved on to more promising problems. The ocean is Other, beyond human comprehension, and even at the end of the book none of the characters have come any closer to determining whether the phantoms it conjured out of their memories is an attempt to reach out and communicate, an experiment to see how they react, a reward or punishment, a purely reflexive response by something that isn’t even really properly conscious, or something else entirely.

I honestly don’t rightly know just what sort of science fiction a Polish guy in 1961 might have been writing in conversation with, but from my perspective there were definitely a few passages that seemed to be taking shots at what most space opera treats as aliens. ‘We have no need of other worlds. We need mirrors.’ and all that. But again, that could very easily be me projecting – easy enough to read it as commenting on a dozen other things.

It was interesting that Rheya was the only doppelganger we ever meet – the story’s quite claustrophobic, and the other two scientists go quite out of their way to make sure Kriss absolutely never sees whose haunting them. Interesting, too, that Kriss is the only one whose actually got anything to be guilty about with regard to his – or, at least, according to Snow the other two were the subject of intrusive thoughts or unbecoming fantasies, whereas Rheya did in fact kill herself a couple days after the two have them had a particularly cruel argument and ugly breakup.

It’s not what the book was about, but I’m honestly kind of sad we didn’t get more insight into Rheya’s psychology? A simulacrum that knows she’s a simulacrum, created by by some unknowable agency for some purely instrumental purpose, not even in her own right but entirely to prod someone else with, unable to spend too long out of sight of him without some control mechanism sending her into a panic attack. There’s some real meat to dig into there, right? Just think of all the juicy existential angst.

My library’s copy of this is the old Kilmartin-Cox translation, which I’ve since regrettably learned is considered pretty rough and low-quality relative to the newer editions. Still, even given that, I kind of adored a decent amount of the prose in this? Or the descriptions of the alien environments, to be specific – the lengthy descriptions of the constructs thrown up by the ocean and how the appearance of the station shifted so dramatically with the rising and setting of each of the system’s two suns were just legitimately beautiful, and make me extremely eager to watch one of the movie adaptations when I can conscript some friends for it.

I need to go see a person about a coin.

You know, I honestly thought the Archer and Priest were unbeatable but then I nailed them on my second try so maybe I'm just bad at understanding this game.

In any case, enough of that. We have official hero business to attend to.

HEY FUCKWEASEL, BRING OUT THE LOOT AND WE WON'T MESS UP YOUR FACE.

...

Much. We won't mess up your face much. I did not come all this way to not hit something with my beatstick.

Oh. Well. No going back now. We are across the B&E threshold. This is officially a burglary. All we can do now is see it to the end.

Zale, Garl, you guys holding up okay? Don't think of it as banditry, think of it as treasure hunting.

Dude, it's a smash and grab. I don't know what's so complicated about that. But sure. Whatever. Come along, Patches.

This might be a little more complicated than a smash and grab. I'm glad I made Patches stick around; We might need him to explain some things.

Alright, we'll make base camp here and then figure out what we're TEAKS TEAKS TEAKS TEAKS

Holy shit, when and how did you get here!? I guess she couldn't resist the allure of breaking into a mysterious wizard lab. We were gone five minutes and she was like, "Hold up, did I just tell them I don't want to investigate the most interesting and mysterious place on this whole island!? GUYS. GUYS WAIT FOR ME."

Oh, we're not the first people to break in here. Could have fooled me from the impenetrable door outside. I wonder if the wizard has to repair it after each would-be burglar steals inside?

Or maybe these guys are just more subtle than we are.

Either way, loot's mine. Back off.

Y'know, this place isn't so complicated. Not any worse than the Mist Trials, really. Once you get your head around the idea that physics can loop there's really nothing that unusual about this wizard's labyrinth.

So you climbed down a well out of self-pity? Seems a bit extreme but sure, I don't see why not.

Did you eat the watch!?

Okay sure, why not. The important thing is, I caught a ton of lunar trout. Objectively the best kind of trout.

Garl, we're doing crime here. You don't call out during crime.

Also something you don't shout at the top of your lungs during a burglary. Garl, if the wizard hears you then this burglary's going to have to turn into a robbery real fast.

Too later. Burglary's cancelled. This is a robbery now. Weapons out, everyone! Look fierce; Show of force. We're going for maximum intimidation.

HOLY SHIT I AM MAXIMUM INTIMIDATED RIGHT NOW

You know what, that's fair.

After what we just went through it better fucking be.

Imagine fistfighting a being of pure rainbow light and energy over a misunderstanding. "Whoops! Sorry, wrong loot. You wanted the cosmic horror of time and space. He's two portals to the left."

At this point, you should be so lucky for me to officially name you as members of our crew but whatever. I'll take what I can get.

So are we chasing down the Vespertine first or going straight to Wraith Island?

...

Okay. I. Guess. That's on me for assuming. Cap'n did say she was chasing after a ship. I should have taken that as a red flag that she didn't already have one.

._. Yo ho ho, pirates we be. To set sail on the ocean is the life for me.

I think the thing that sometimes grinds my gears about the depression of other people is the pervasive hopelessness. I know how to handle it as a therapist, I very quickly slip into cognitive therapy, but in my social world? That hopeless negativity can very quickly suck the air out of a room. And when people look at me and expect me to agree with their perspective, because of course the world is awful, isn't it? I can't do it. I refuse to align with that and I refuse to validate that worldview.

Hear me out for a second.

Clinging onto hope is a herculean effort. I'm not naive, I see the problems. I see the horrors. I'm kind of a pragmatist most of the time, and that can sometimes mean acknowledging negative aspects of reality. And it is so easy, especially after the last several years, to be cynical about the world. To give in to despair and feel utterly negative about everything. I get it, I see why people would be inclined to feel this way. But since the pandemic, I think my perspective on life has really shifted in a fundamental way.

I have one life on this hunk of rock, and that life is short. Death is random. It's random and purposeless and there's nothing you can do about it. And I have just this one life, one chance at this. I don't believe there's a strong possibility that there's much if any afterlife. I don't believe in reincarnation. That means this is it. If I'm lucky I'll get 80, maybe 90 years out of the billions and billions that the universe has existed and will continue to exist after I'm gone. That's it. There was nothing of me before and there will likely be nothing of me after.

I'm a blip in the universe, a brief moment in time. I don't matter in any cosmic sense of the word. There's no god that's invested in me personally. If a god exists I don't think it's an entity that gives a shit about any of us as individuals. I matter only insofar as I'm important to the people in my immediate vicinity, only insofar as I effect my small circle of community. We're all small fish in a real big fucking ocean. We're only important on a small scale.

So with that perspective in mind, I refuse to allow my short blip of existence in this world be miserable. I refuse to let it feel meaningless and hopeless. I have one life and I want to enjoy it. And that doesn't mean I don't have my struggles, that doesn't mean there won't ever be pain or difficult periods. Of course there will. And there will probably be regrets too, when all is said and done. But I just refuse to be hopeless about it all. I get one shot at life and goddamnit I'm gonna enjoy it to the best of my ability.

And I will cling to the hope that life can be fun and people can be good and this short tiny blip of existence can have all the meaning and fulfillment that I want it to have if it kills me.

Because otherwise what's the point? There's no fulfillment in suffering. It isn't noble to be any more or less hurt than other people. There's no reward for martyrdom and misery. Sorry to Jesus but I'm not about that penitential shit anymore. I'm not gonna punish myself for existing and I don't think anyone should.

This isn't to say that nothing matters and we should all be careless and selfish and hedonistic. Our small world matters to us, our communities and societies impact us and that's still important. Alleviating suffering and trying to do good will always matter. If anything you can take your one shot at life and channel it into doing that good. That can be a way of fending off hopelessness and existential despair, a way of finding the meaning and fulfillment in this big empty universe.

But at the same time, life is short and death is random. So I'm not spending mine locked in that cycle of hopelessness and despair. I just. Can't.

hihihigihi uhh

can you name some of your ocs?-

haven't seen much of any i dont thingk. or maybe i just am blind

that's fair we don't have our toyhouse linked anywhere and that only has a fraction of our ocs listed on it

bugs fable ocs;

chrys - never talked about them before whoops. from our bug fables future headcanons. they're a cuckoo wasp and they're on an explorer team with tod and terrie mop - everyone knows mop. the star of the show

synth - evil roach lady. came from the giant's lair and tried to start snakemouth lab 2: electric boogaloo. she's like if soul master was a girl kind of bernie - most divorced poor little meow meow bee man ever. got kicked out of the hive because cosmic horrors happened to him. vi's dad but that's not really relevant they don't know each other ilon & lilly - butterfly and beetle on an explorer team. kind of side characters in future bug fables iris - cute and trustworthy mantis lady who runs a diner and definitely doesn't cook people checkers - zombee who is two different bees sewn together. former nurse in one life. unwillingly pulled into synth's schemes mint - zombeetle who escaped the lab to try and find his former explorer partner. not going well for him latte - baby zombiant. just a little guy sammy - zombie fly with a different kind of fungus than the cordyceps ones. got sent to bee kingdom zombie jail until the doctor who made it like that let it escape penny - the doctor who did that to sammy. it was an accident she swears marshmallow - peacock spider who started mimicking bugs and living in society just for a laugh

and our hollows knights

caprice - nosk who disguises herself as a traveling musician. reads minds to find familiar tunes and plays them for her victims. our personal favorite to draw ollie - ant that got splashed with the death pheromone and kicked out of his colony for it. traveled with caprice before getting infected and dying for real

celadon - mantis who left the tribe to pursue a more peaceful lifestyle. is just vibing in greenpath now flower pot - vessel that celadon adopted. likes being painted on capt. geo-eye - earwig pirate captain. quite literally has a piece of geo where his eye should be. currently plundering the abandoned kingdom of hallownest treasure chest - vessel that geo-eye adopted. a little ruffian that attacks ankles

and our rains worlds

uncrossed finish line - senior of their local group. thought sliver of straw was onto something. worked so hard to replicate her that they overheated and collapsed deep impression of a fang - junior of the same group. looked up to finish line and was devastated when they died. tried to purpose an organism strong enough to kill him after that happened flightless birds - second youngest of the group. bit of a silly goose. spends more time talking in group chats and having fun than doing work. in her lane. unbothered. flourishing monday morning sunrise - second oldest of the group. eepy. spends 100 cycles to do anything empire of ants - firm Middle Child. ascribes to the same thinking of a benefactor monk. never talks to anyone ever three glowing scales - no local group because they're in the middle of the ocean. makes a lot of purposed creatures to send messages across the sea ever-flowing rapids - purposed slugcat made by 3gs. true aquatic scug that can breathe underwater and move at speed. rivulet's ancestor the crusader - purposed slugcat made by dioaf. the thing that was intended to kill him. gets stronger the higher its karma is the trickster - purposed slugcat made by nsh. exists to send memes. can change colors to mimic predators the sleepwalker - normal slugcat that got hit on the head and can't sleep now. always gets shelter failures and special night creatures attack them the symbiosis - used to be our scugsona but now they're just vibing. full of fungus. kills bugs instantly but gets hurt by sunlight two splinters of wood under tropical leaves - benefactor that lived on mms. ran a shelter for purposed organisms that outlived their usefulness. number one enjoyer of weird little critters muddy water running through steel canals - benefactor that lived on looks to the moon. mechanic that dabbles in bioengineering. invented miros birds so you can all get mad at aer for that shrill ringing noise, a broken spear - benefactor that used to live on dioaf. got banished to the surface for assassinating a council member. living the creature life now

ALSMP Fanfic: Hellbent Ch 2

Characters: Scott Major, MythicalSausage

Tags: Canon divergent, We’re way off the canon origin list now, featuring derivatives such as werewolf!Scott, guardian!Sausage, enderian!Scott, vampire!Sausage, wither!Scott, merling!Sausage, floran!Scott and including the return of blazeborn!Myth and gravital!Smajor

WARNINGS: Blood, Violence, Injury, Body Horror, Character Death, So Much Death that I’ll be here for days listing warnings for them all. We got water, we got fire, we got neuro-toxins, we got stabbing. Nothing is portrayed in graphic detail, but consider yourself warned! No Fluff Only Murder

 Summary: The cycle that started with a hungry vampire and an imprisoned angel comes full circle.

Scott and Sausage – now going by Smajor and Myth – have broken the cosmic respawn system with their continuous murder of each other, and more than ten lives later they are still at it. Even an encounter with peaceful versions of themselves in a limbo dimension doesn't deter them for long, but Myth at long last gains the upper hand. He has a choice: end the feud, or… Well, that’s it, that’s his only choice. But he’ll do it one way or another…

 Sequel to Bloodfall, Witherrise, Fatemirrored, and Heavensent, with references to (and later picking up after) the crossover Mirror Mirror Break Our Fall.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Chapter One ]

Chapter Two

By three or four deaths later – between the poisonous flowers and toxic pollen, among other tricks – Myth had thought he had learned enough during his previous aquatic-based lives to be able to better avoid his nemesis when Smajor couldn’t easily pursue in water, but it turned out that a merling couldn’t escape someone with a connection through the very earth. The already existing sea grass was an obvious threat, but other roots punched their way up through the ocean floor or out of the side of underwater ravines to grab at him. Going anywhere with any kind of plant life had become a nightmare.

He was making his best effort to swim toward deeper and colder waters, weaving around dragging bubble streams from exposed magma and steering clear of those treacherous patches of sea grass. Trying to lure Smajor toward another monument had already failed, since the fatigue from an Elder Guardian didn’t change his effect on plants, and sunlight cured anything ailing the floran.

It was a sudden burst of growth from kelp strands that finally snagged Myth, tangling around his limbs faster than he could cut them away, with one even snatching the knife from his hand before more of them formed a net, and the whole lot was hauled upward as if by a winch on a fisherman’s boat. There was no boat on the surface, only a large, hooked root that Smajor had caused to grow from the nearest tree over to the sand, and after pulling the net back over to the grassy area, it held the captured merling aloft.

“It’s so tempting to just leave you in there. I was thinking of dragging you somewhere far from water and leaving you to dry out, but I believe you did that one before by yourself. Kind of boring.” Smajor grinned in at him between the strings of kelp. His green hair was crowned with deep purple and black flowers of varying degrees of toxicity, along with a new cluster of small, neon blue buds above one ear. Myth didn’t want to know what they were, but he suspected he would find out.

Painfully.

“Don’t try to hold your breath for too long,” the floran taunted, then grasped the entire cluster of blue buds and pulled them off, then crushed them in his hand.

No, not flower buds. Tiny mushrooms. And from between his fingers came a puff of spores which he blew into Myth’s face after opening his hand.

Oh, this was going to be like the pollen all over again. Myth barely got a single breath in and expected to start choking, but a wave of confusion struck him instead. He wasn’t out of watery lung support yet, so he now took a few shallow breaths as the view of the world beyond the net as well as Smajor’s smirking face began to stop making linear sense in his brain.

“I don’t have a name for those yet, but I call the effect unraveling your brain cells. Who knew you could grow plants that do something like that?” Smajor threw his arms up in the air to mime incredible disbelief. “But I suppose no one was looking for more creative ways to kill someone to try it.” He grinned and walked a few steps away, rocking on his heels as he looked out toward the ocean. There was a long moment of silence, and he was fine with not hearing any kind of struggle from the merling.

“This. Is this. This… you see,” came some words from within the net that sounded forced out. “Your. The view. To you.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say. I guess it makes sense in your head right now. Trying to insult me?”

“You… World. No s-sense. To you.”

“Mm-hmm, do go on.”

There was another long pause, then silence from the net, so Smajor figured Myth’s synapses were at the stage of forgetting how lungs worked. He didn’t bother to check and simply waited a few more minutes. Then he heard Myth make a sort of low huffing sound. That was kind of odd. It sounded a little familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

But then, he hadn’t been in the Nether for quite some time.

There were a few more huffs, then he heard Myth grate out the words, “You’re completely insane.”

The net burst into flames and a blackened form hovered where it had been, yellow light flaring along his fingers and the tips of his ears, his eyes glowing orange. Smoke and embers swirled around his now burnt clothing, and a rain of soot fell from his face, revealing Myth’s features again. Without hesitation he swooped to grasp Smajor by the throat, lifting him off the ground. He directed a gout of flame downward from his free hand, scorching the grass and setting the tree on fire, leaving the floran nothing to manipulate that could have restrained the new blazeborn.

He ignited flames all along his body, increasing the heat. The poisonous flowers in Smajor’s hair wilted, then the rapidly drying petals fell away. The floran’s skin became drawn as the water that his body’s plantlike cells contained began to evaporate. Myth’s expression contorted into a snarl. “See how you like being without water, you dried-up husk.”

Smajor attempted to grow a vine off his arm that almost reached to Myth’s neck. It shriveled and caught fire, falling away as ashes. The floran then tried to pull at Myth’s hand, but his fingertips were fast becoming stiff from drying out. With the tables very much turned, he was now the one gasping, and it wasn’t long before Myth tossed him to the ground, curled up on himself and unmoving.

Myth remained hovering over the spot, glaring down and regularly emitting the low huffing sounds. He would wait to see what Smajor revived as, and maybe burn him to a crisp again.

This whole charade was, in all honesty, getting really old. Myth would have prayed for something to give, even if it meant a final death for both of them, but he was certain no one would be listening.

He watched the shimmer pass along Smajor’s body as he regenerated into something new. He… looked unremarkable. He wasn’t green anymore, although his hair appeared tinted blue – well, more like blue on one side, reddish on the other, but aside from that he could have been just a normal human. Myth didn’t let his guard down; he wasn’t going to fall for that helpless act ever again. He conjured a fireball in one hand to imply a threat.

Smajor muttered under his breath as he got up on his hands and knees, crawling away from the heat before even lifting his head. He staggered upright and tugged at his own slightly singed clothes as if composing himself, and only then did he turn toward Myth. “Why do you keep waiting? You could incinerate me right now. Are you trying to play with me? Giving me ‘hope’ of escaping with my life? You should know that I don’t care either way.”

“I don’t know why. Call me foolish for thinking there’s a chance you’ll stop this. But if it is death you want…” Myth raised his hand and directed more power into the fireball, causing it to flare up even hotter. He made a motion to throw it – but hooked his wrist at the last second, preventing it from leaving his grasp.

In turn, Smajor showed his hand – by raising both hands in front of himself. There was a sort of rippling of air, then a startled look as Smajor was suddenly flung backward by his own powers. He sailed a few meters out over the water, then was angling down until he hit the surface with a splash. He popped back up a second later, shaking the salt water from his face.

“Heh! Let me guess!” Myth called out. “Not sure how the new abilities work? Well, I can’t go in there, so I guess I’ll be on my way!” He turned, confident that Smajor would have to swim back to shore the normal way since he needed to figure out what his powers even were. The blazeborn did, however, direct a blast of fire downward, igniting the grass all around as a warning that he was very much capable of scorching the earth to keep Smajor at bay.

~*~

By the time they encountered each other again, Smajor had taken a few precautions like getting some fire-resistant leather armor, and had learned how to control opposite polarities, but it had not occurred to him that someone who already defied gravity couldn’t be easily affected by changes to it. He first tried to catch Myth by surprise, intending to yank him toward him so he could throw a bucket of water on him, but all Myth felt was a small tug on the air around him, alerting him to the gravital’s presence.

Smajor then tried to yeet Myth farther away to mess up the retaliatory fireball throw. He did manage to send the projectile sailing back at Myth, but the next one landed perfectly to set Smajor’s arm on fire.

As he slapped at the flames to extinguish them, Myth laughed. “If I was a poor excuse for a vampire, you’re a poor excuse for a gravital!” He threw several more fireballs, setting Smajor’s hair and one leg alight, then he quickly swooped around to encircle the other in a ring of flames. He watched from outside of it, allowing himself a smug look as Smajor danced around trying to put out the fires still on him.

To Myth this was a good test. If Smajor had better skill at this point he could have just bounced out of the ring with enough force to extinguish himself by air pressure, but he was clearly still learning. The blazeborn created a second, larger ring, then left without taunting Smajor again. Maybe if they did this enough times, the gravital would realize they were at a tenuous stalemate by Myth’s choice alone.

~*~

Smajor continued to be persistent, however. When he came across Myth again, in the ruins of what had once been a temple to the godlike thunderborn of the past – he vaguely remembered destroying it out of spite – he used a new tactic; if he couldn’t throw Myth, he would throw things at Myth. He had figured out how to alter the amount of gravity around heavy objects and simultaneously lift them from afar, and so he chased Myth while hurling large chunks of the available collapsed marble walls at him.

Myth dodged each one, his semi-flight enabling him to swoop above and under them, and in one case, where Smajor flung a tall and jagged but thin statue at him – the irony of a stone lightning bolt flying through the air – he weaved around it to avoid the multiple protruding edges.

Smajor cursed but kept at it, varying the size of the debris he was throwing until he drained his store of gravi and could only stand, panting, as the blazeborn hovered outside the range of where the last stone chunk had landed.

“Such a shame!” Myth called out. “Unlike you, I don’t run out of flames! Are you done for today, and we pick this up again somewhere else?”

“Do you think this is a joke?! Do you really think you’re invincible now?! Are you really just going to keep running off every time?!”

“Yeah, I think I will, actually! It’s entertaining watching you struggle with futility for a change. No matter which tricks you learn, they’re not enough!”

“I’ll still keep finding you! Just because I can’t squash you yet doesn’t mean I’ll stop!” Smajor dramatically raised one hand and swiped it down through the air as if in frustration.

Myth swung his body sideways, neatly avoiding the rectangular slab Smajor had attempted to drop on him. “Puh-lease. You think I don’t know to how read every gesture you make? I remember how those powers work.”

“Except for that time you forgot all about your personal gravi and slammed into the bottom of that ravine right along with me,” Smajor sneered.

“Logically, kangaroos shouldn’t be able to jump that high,” Myth commented casually, ignoring Smajor’s bait trying to remind him of falling.

“And fires don’t burn forever,” Smajor warned. His eyes darted around, searching for the next best piece of debris to lob at the blazeborn. If only he could affect liquid… His gaze landed on the well sitting to Myth’s left.

In his head it seemed worth a shot. With a burst of renewed gravi, he propelled himself directly at Myth while turning one hand to pick up a smaller piece of wall to the blazeborn’s right. Myth put his hands up, wreathed in flames, already looking down in contempt. Smajor stopped himself just shy of the fire’s reach and ­pulled on the piece of wall, jumping backward at the same time.

With Myth’s attention directed to the front, he only had a split second to notice the flying debris. It rammed into him, sending him toward the well. Smajor tried to manipulate it onto an angle to push Myth downward, into the well itself. For a moment Myth was pinned between the top edge and the piece of wall, then he tumbled over the side.

Smajor was eager to hear the sound of sizzling from a fire being put out, but he wanted to ensure Myth couldn’t escape. He slammed the slab from earlier over the top of the well, destroying the wooden cover and cutting off all access to the outside.

It was a shame he wouldn’t be able to see Myth regenerate into something weaker – but hopefully also something water-soluble. Even if he could survive in water on the next round, he was still trapped.

Smajor went over to give a listen. He was disappointed to not hear any desperate splashing or cursing. Perhaps he had hit Myth hard enough that he went straight into the water and was extinguished in one go. He wasn’t going to lift the slab to find out, but he did put a hand on it, patting it with satisfaction. Finally, something had worked to silence that pompous overgrown matchstick.

He then noticed that the slab felt warm, and was growing warmer. Searing, even. He yanked his hand away and clutched at it, steam rising off of his palm. The surface of the slab was steaming, too, then it started to glow red, becoming molten and then pouring off to either side of a widening hole that appeared in the middle.

Myth flew out of the hole, his entire body lit up like an inferno. There was not a hint of water damage on him. As his fires died down with a fresh shower of soot and swirls of smoke, he regarded Smajor with amusement. “That well is dry. Nice try, though.”

Smajor stared. And stared. And stared, his mouth pressing into an ever-tighter line, eyes becoming wider – or pupils unnaturally getting smaller.

Myth could practically hear something in his nemesis’ brain snap.

Smajor let out a screech and began using gravi to pick up one piece of stone after another, flinging them haphazardly at the blazeborn. Myth mostly just bobbed a little to either side. There was zero accuracy going on now. He didn’t want to be at this all day, though, so he combined two fireballs into one and sent the whole conflagration flying to land on the ground, bursting into a rush of flames that knocked the gravital off his feet.

Myth then fled the ruins, feeling certain there would be no reasoning with Smajor from that day onward.

~*~

The blazeborn continuously scouted around for places that could serve as temporary shelter for himself or a good place to trap Smajor. That was his goal now above all else; if he couldn’t defeat the mad gravital, he could at least keep him someplace where neither of them would endanger anyone else – a thought that wouldn’t stop coming back to him.

He considered asking for help, but who would trust him at this point, either? He had to think outside the box. There were creatures in the world that even the people with supernatural abilities couldn’t fight. Combining the two ideas, Myth headed underground, leaving some crumbs for Smajor to follow. He would let his nemesis think he was trying to hide, all the while leading him down to what would hopefully be his final doom.

Or well, if the legends were true, then it was doom for both of them. Either way, it wasn’t too long before he found the trail of turquoise and blue-black that soon led him to exactly what he was looking for. He could hear that Smajor wasn’t far behind. Myth smiled grimly; something else would soon hear him, too, when he entered the ancient, abandoned city.

“Ohhh, Myth! Myytthhhh! Did you think you could hide from me down here? I can see that orange light from miles away in all this blue!”

Something rattled beyond the glow of the soul lanterns hanging all around the city, and nearby something else issued a breathy shriek. The lanterns then guttered briefly.

“All that burning and smoke – you stink like a campfire that can’t catch!”

Another rattle, another shriek.

“I could track you anywhere, you fool. You’re no safer in these depths than you are anywhere on the surface. Were you that desperate for a Nether portal, or were you just looking for a quick snack?”

Several of the lanterns were knocked loose from their chains by a blast of gravi following the question. Then there was a third rattle, and a third shriek.

The ground crackled and split.

“Smajor, there is something down here even worse than you, and now it’s coming for you because you just can’t shut up.”

There was a roar, then a chilling heartbeat echoed through the city. The soul lanterns went out, washing the area in further darkness. But the fiery glow Myth gave off couldn’t be suppressed as easily. Smajor glared across the gap at him, and as soon as the ambient light returned he began to bounce along bridges and rooftops toward him, ignoring the stomping footsteps below.

The Warden roared and released a sonically-charged attack in Smajor’s direction, sending the mad gravital off course. He crashed into a wall but immediately got up, his personal field of gravi protecting him. He looked for Myth and launched himself up a tier as he saw an orange glow making its way up along the palace toward the giant portal.

“No escaping, Myth! I’ll hunt you down no matter which dimension you run to!”

His yelling caused another series of rattles and breathy shrieks, with more waves of darkness, and the ground crackling a second time. The sound of another Warden charging through the street followed. This one was close enough that it skipped the sonic charge and went right to trying to slam its fists down on Smajor. He put his hands up and yeeted the creature away, only to be hit by a sonic attack from the first Warden. He was sent flying into the side of a building.

Myth’s laughter drifted down to mock him.

Smajor seethed, but was right back on his feet and made his way upward as fast as he could before either of the Wardens locked onto him again. He arrived in time to see Myth’s form get whisked away in a flurry of the blue-black particles emanating from the portal. Without hesitating he leapt in after him, never once caring what secrets it might hold.

---

[A/N: If you haven’t read Mirror Mirror Break Our Fall, now is a good time! Chapter Three picks up after those events, and some things will make more sense.]

[ Chapter Three ]

I'm rereading Shiha's meta on the Dark Ocean, and I just came up with a new headcanon: the Deep Ones have known about Hikari since the Dark Masters arc.

During the lead-up to Piemon, the protagonists encounter phenomena that seem to produce similar results to the Dark Ocean's effect, what with the environment changing according to emotions, the dark waters metaphor...

And since Dagomon's episode was originally meant for Adventure (this is the info from the meta I'm talking about), I really feel like it's just perfect for Piemon's wasteland, when the Digital World's structure is weakest and most ravaged by dark distortion and stuff. We know this kind of force causes worlds to overlap with each other, so I feel like it's the perfect moment to, oh I don't know, have someone slip away into another world. Or something.

Although I feel like Sora could've fulfilled a similar role, I feel like it still would involve Hikari, since Kakudou really wants you to understand how special she is, especially in the novel.

This is not a bad thing in and of itself btw. Hikari really is a person who appreciates peace and life, "a pure soul", if you will, but still not so innocent and pure that it turns her into a Mary Sue, quite the contrary, in fact 02 delves deeper into her own shortcomings and she comes across more as a real person complete with her imperfections, even though it's also true that it's shown in Adventure to some extent.

But I digress. What if the Dark Ocean was able to "see" her at that time, and become aware of her Light power thing? Maybe at that time they didn't really need her, since Kaiser wasn't wreaking havoc in their world with the Evil Rings and stuff, but they took notice, and that's why, when the distortion between worlds started getting worse against during Kaiser's tyranny, they contacted her as soon as possible.

Obviously I don't think the writers had this idea in mind, but it would explain why the Deep Ones went out of their way specifically to find Hikari. If you don't need any further explanation beyond "uhh i guess they just sensed she was special idk" that's fine! And I mean, that's enough, after all episode 13 was all about the mystery and perhaps cosmic horror, and it all feels more Lovecraftian if you don't explain everything. I just think it's neat how you can kinda put these facts together neatly and it kind of makes sense. I might use this.

Beta Readers Wanted

For feedback on my 100 collected 500-word flash fics about The Hopeful Wanderer, a character I created for my blog series four or five years ago and based off Ginko from Mushishi. It's a far-future science fantasy with sub-tones of soft apocalypse and climate change. The stories are gentle and creepy and whimsical and kind and hopeful. And the last ten stories tell the tale of the Wanderer and what's happening to the world and the stars.

I've spent the past year on revisions, so the copy is as clean as possible. I'll just want two questions answered for each story ("What worked?" and "What needs work?" with, like, one sentence responses for each question). If you don't think this is something you can help with or anything in the contents warning list isn't for you, no worries at all.

Content Warnings:

Monsters (there are many of these)

Alien(s) (technically)

Magic/paranormal/supernatural (divination, talking animals, talking inanimate objects, talking plants, deities, guardians, cosmic magic, portals, ghosts, etc.)

Light existential dread

Blood mention

Food mention

Depictions of depression

Phobias mentions (fear of needles, fear of time passing, fear of heights, fear of ocean depths, fear of meaninglessness) (depictions don't appear on-page)

Death mention (can't think of any on-page death scenes, but there may be one or two I've forgotten)

Implied child death mentions

Most or all of the stories containing warned content could be categorized as "soft horror" or "creepy" at most, rather than outright horror.

I'd love to have the beta read back by end of June or early July, if at all possible, but I'm flexible on this one. You wouldn't even need to add comments to the manuscript itself, just fill out the questionnaire for each flash fic as you go. Please let me know if you're interested in reading for me!

Give me. Azathoth thoughts. I have not really heard ur takes on him much surprisingly besides "Black Hole". Shub as well if u have the beans

Thing is I don't HAVE as many takes on azzy as I should. He's simply not really an entity that interests me much. A lot of cosmic horror stuff appeals to me but I have to walk the fine line between "the universe has no meaning :D" and "oh god the universe has no meaning" and Azathoth really leans hard into the "oh god the universe has no meaning" thing that's bad for my brain.

And also I think he's. Kind of boring. Sorry. I know you like him but it's like. There's not enough there for me to work with. He's not creature enough.

One thing I do have is that a large amount of magic in the Mythos is directly manipulating Azathoth's dream (i.e., our reality) but I feel like I probably picked that up from someone else and don't remember.

Shub, though. She makes my brain go brrrrrrr in a fun way. She's life in all of its messy inconsistencies. She's the black smokers in the deep ocean that life on Earth stemmed from originally. She's mutation. She's in our very cells as DNA and RNA. I like the her.

Title: Our Wives Under the Sea Author: Julia Armfield Genre/s: horror, contemporary literature Content/Trigger Warnings: body horror, death of a parent, claustrophobic environs, the deep sea, portrayal and discussion of grief and grieving Summary (from publisher website):  Miri thinks she has got her wife back, when Leah finally returns after a deep sea mission that ended in catastrophe. It soon becomes clear, though, that Leah may have come back wrong. Whatever happened in that vessel, whatever it was they were supposed to be studying before they were stranded on the ocean floor, Leah has carried part of it with her, onto dry land and into their home. To have the woman she loves back should mean a return to normal life, but Miri can feel Leah slipping from her grasp. Memories of what they had before – the jokes they shared, the films they watched, all the small things that made Leah hers – only remind Miri of what she stands to lose. Living in the same space but suddenly separate, Miri comes to realize that the life that they had might be gone. Buy Here: https://bookshop.org/p/books/our-wives-under-the-sea-julia-armfield/17449967 Spoiler-Free Review: The last time I read a horror novel that explored grief, it was John Langan’s The Fisherman’s Wife, which I enjoyed thoroughly and found appropriately spooky. So when this book cropped up in some best-of lists this year, and many of the reviews implied or out right stated this was a horror novel, I decided to give it a shot. And yes, yes, it IS a horror novel, but not quite in the same way as Langan’s book. No: the horror here is in watching the slow deterioration of a relationship/relationships, something indefinable hanging between everyone that no one can seem to get over or around. And the thing is: it’s neither of their faults. On one hand, how do you explain a profoundly traumatic experience to someone? An experience that has changed you so fundamentally, that it might feel like you’re someone else entirely? And on the other hand, how do you try to understand what your partner is going through in the wake of a traumatizing event? How do you reach out to them, ask them to open up, without accidentally cutting them, or yourself, on the sharp edge of a memory? How do two people deal with the weight of all that? How do you keep a relationship from just...disintegrating? In broad strokes, that’s what happens in this novel. The story is told via first-person narration with both Miri and Leah as narrators, the chapters alternating between them. On one hand, Miri’s chapters are mostly set in the present, drifting back and forth to explore her past as it relates to the present of her and the just-returned Leah. It is in Miri’s chapters that the themes of grief and grieving are most pronounced, and it is both heartwrenching and nightmarish to read about how she deals with Leah, and her notion that maybe, her wife didn’t quite come back as herself. There’s a kind of slow, inexorable awakening in these chapters that feels terrifying, because you can see how Miri realizes that something is coming, KNOWS it’s inevitable, but isn’t sure yet what she’ll do. She’s failed before, after all. Will she fail again? As for Leah’s chapters, this is where the horror story side of the novel comes in, which I won’t get into for fear of spoilers, but they feel very cosmic horror-esque - and no, NOT because of the obvious Cthulhu references. These chapters are slow too, like the Miri chapters, but the flavor of terror here is different: a slow descent (heh) into the unknown, into madness (?), into thoughts that are maybe best left in the depths of the mind. What’s down there in the very deepest depths of the ocean? Who knows. What lies in the very deepest depths of the human mind? Who knows. Do we want to know? SHOULD we know? Taken all together, these chapters twine and twist and twist and TWIST so the tension’s almost unbearable, until finally, towards the book’s latter fourth, they finally snap and unravel into the conclusion. That the POV makes everything feel twice as intimate and maybe a tiny bit claustrophobic - which I personally enjoyed, mostly because of how uncomfortable it was to see all this happening. I know that seems strange, but the up-close feel really made this even more compelling to read. This is helped along by the writing, which is lovely right from the get-go and makes reading this book immensely easy for all that the story feels like it should be going a lot more slowly than it actually does. Rating: five faceless cusks (seriously go look those up they’re so STRANGE) Thoughts under the cut for spoilers:

- What in the actual everloving FUCK was that THING Leah saw at the end of the expedition? What the fuck???

- Also what was it Leah was turning into? WHY was she turning into it? Could swear she was turning into a jellyfish but still? WHY??

- Who the fuck’s behind the Centre? I know it’s not supposed to be answered, that they’re essentially a MacGuffin, but STILL. I am CURIOUS - not least because if kind of reminds me of the similar organization in Vandermeer’s Southern Reach Trilogy.

Pics:

1 & 2. The original poem that we're discussing, in the Brown U archives.

3 thru 5. Lovecraftian towns, enough said!

6. The real horror here is the racist hatred that drove most of HPL's tales.

1913: Output.

Intro: What lingers, from reading Lovecraft's tales, is a feeling of rapt captivity & blind fear.

But, what 'hurts' is the fact that it was Howard's own racism that empowers most his works.

While it's true that readers can't really separate an author's life experiences influencing their works, 1 can enjoy their fiction without liking the writer him or herself.

Though HPL was a bit rabid in his hateful thoughts, I still enjoy his take on cosmic horrors.

I'd gladly be chased thru time & space, 'projecting' myself back to Arkham in the early 1900s.

Or, slip thru the dimensions out to the Great Australian Desert. And then, plunge down into the depths of the Pacific Ocean!!

I'll even play the part of a lonely & scared academic who learns too much to survive any longer.

But, I won't act like some blind bigot. I'm not a racist & have friends of all kinds & sexes.

Hey! Watch where you put that sinful tentacle...

Plot: We start out with "New-England losing (its) original inhabitants¹ & agricultural atmosphere²."

"Being now the seat of... industries (run) by southern Europeans & West Asiatic immigrants of low grade³..."

"(Their) squalid, nosy village (now) asleep. Dusk & quiet hide a monstrous mill⁴... (now belonging to) alien serfs."

"Tainted air for (a) moment clears the ruin wrought by evil years⁵ & (my) tortured mind is lightened of its pain."

Suddenly "ancestral spirits reign anew & old New-England... lives again."

But, this only lasts for a moment.

The poem now focuses on describing "an empty green⁶, ancient structures rotting (away & a) temple spire (that) ascends no higher (due to) the Popish cross⁷."

Then, the poem asks "where dwells that race... whose rule is benign⁸?"

Suddenly, we get a twist!!

"From the woes which blend in modern times, new blessings emerge⁹!"

Yet, the poem ends with a final sad prediction, "contemplation mourns New England's end¹⁰ (for) draped in sack-cloth¹¹, 'She' (=s New England) chants her country's dirge¹²."

Notes:

1. At 1st, it sounds as if Howard's writing about the aboriginal American 'Indians' but, we know better!

If he were, he would be sadly correct. There's few of the aboriginal nations left - but, they're not extinct.

Not even in New England...

2. Wrong again.

Today, New England farms provide 50% of the dairy & 40% of the veggies consumed in the region.

Even though farms only make up 7% of the modern land use!!

Cheer on our modern practices.

3. Howard again ranks minorities as being of low quality as a whole.

Due, no doubt, to the then current pseudo-scientific 'thinking.'

But, Lovecraft liked to obsess on most things & didn't like 'change' at all.

The only type of changes that he allowed himself, were on scientific advances.

As even we are finding out, science is always changing. Usually by advances that are 'unexpected'.

Look at the amazing findings of the James Webb telescope, to see what I mean.

But, HPL couldn't seem to master his racial fears - whose origins still remain largely unknown...

4. This seems to refer to Howard's preference to water powered grind- stones & his 'hate' of coal powered mills.

I'd have to agree with him on this point.

5. Hmm... Methinks we can see the slow growth of Lovecraft's Mythos vocabulary in moments like this.

6. Dude, come on. Your poem takes place at night...

If someone (of any color) was there, it wouldn't be for romantic reasons.

7. Howard (the atheist) taking a pot- shot at Christianity while upholding a Protestant past.

8. In some fantasy realm? No 'rule' - especially a royal one - is ever 100% perfect.

Not even democratic 'rule'...

Every known form of government has had some kind of problem(s) during its existence.

9. Hmm... "The woes which blend?"

("Whatchu talking about, Willis?!")

I don't think this is sarcasm aimed at "race mixing."

Perhaps, it's a poetic way to say that America has a lot of problems.

Well, I'd match our problems with yours anytime, bro.

Though HPL would probably like the Big Orange Rump! Lovecraft was always attracted to 'royalty.'

10. Quite wrong again.

As stated before, New England is still in white hands & in no danger of being overrun by minorities - we just don't have the money to live there...

11. Sack-cloth were 'clothes' woven out of goat or camel hair! It was the proper garment to be worn during times of mourning.

In English, it also describes "coarsely woven fabrics made from flax, hemp or cotton."

12. Still wrong!!

We've certainly come close to extinction - several times! But, the U.S. is still here...

Right now, we're still fighting off the greedy power lust of an ex-prez who wants to become 'king.'

The kind of person that Lovecraft would like - at 1st sight!

But, HPL could change his mind!

As he did with Hitler, once Howard understood what kind of a danger Adolph posed - to HPL's beloved England!

Criticism: Not really much written on "Village." So, I'll add some quick notes after the 1 comment that I could find...

The National Amateur said, "Lovecraft chants a dirge (death song) over the New England of American history... discovering that the New England of their dreams is not the New England of today."

Notes:

1. You could think of this poem as part three of Howard's "Racist Trio" for 1913!

The more racist poems being the already examined "Providence in 2000 AD" & "New-England Fallen."

2. But, if this is true, this poem is a toned down version of the other two poems' hateful bigotry! Because, for HPL, this poem is a minor exercise in Racism Lite...

Still, all such works hurt somebody.

Top 5 things that make you feral?

FERAL? How feral? How does one even measure IRL feral, I feel like I'm pretty calm.

Feral like me stashing leftovers in my bedroom like some rabid horrding animal when my sibling eats my food or simply might eat my food because I'm gluten free and they can eat literally everything? And don't need to eat my food? Do they want to get kicked?

Or feral like when I see a really really really cute teeny tiny itty bitty lil puppy doggo and im all tippy tappy feets like "LOOKIE HE he's so TINY I just want to sqwuish him he's the size of my hand!!!!" I love PUPPIES theyre so SMALL

Or feral when I look at the fictional blorbo doing The Thing and go "you need to be scruffed. you need to cry. You need to bleed and <insert Archive Warning Here>. I am about to write you into situations so horrific" and then I spend 10hrs hyperfixating on a fic instead of sleeping, commencing horrors against my favorite characters until they are in fact an entire new man.

OR do you mean the kind of feral I get when I go 2hrs+ without liquid intake and I can feel myself dehydrating like a sad crispy wilted plant and I will actually lay down in a snow bank and eat snow if I have to because I WILL die without water and eVERYONE will hear me complain until I acquire fluids and YES I will chug back 1L in less than 30 minutes at this point because I need like 3L a day and I can't go more than an hr or 2 without.

Or, or, or, the feral when people unknowingly ask me dumb questions like "why are you taking english AND biology" and then I get to spend the next 20 minutes excitedly talking about medieval literature and how much I love the 1600s romance because theyre just silly little guys trying to woo ladies and going into woods and being tricked by faeries and magical creatures and honestly these authors had the right ideas, its basically all fanfiction and all ideas are reused to add on and make new wild version of the stories, but then I go on to explain that I ALSO have an obsession with lil guys in the bottom of the ocean and how I think its so neat and fascinating that 80% of the ocean is unexplored and I really think its cool that evolution works in such a unique way that we can have giant isopods just casually swiming around and harassing lobster trappers and eating little crunchy guys who also happen to be really interesting, like lobsters constantly grow and grow until they get too big for their shells and cant molt anymore and that brings me to the OCEAN and the cREECHURES and my obsession with the STRANGE and UNKNOWN which leads me to cosmic HORROR which gets me all EHEE which leads me back to writing and an ENGLISH portion to my degree and instead of saying "im double majoring in english and marine biology because I have an obsession with the little weird many-legged dudes at the bottom of the ocean but also a rampant imagination and a love for story-telling so I want to be as literate as possible so that I can write fantasies about the weird many-legged dudes at the bottom of the ocean" you get this feral unhinged verbal essay that you didnt really want to hear about and maybe ive enlightened you to horrors you never knew existed

I think horror and more specifically cosmic horror and weird fiction act as kind of a comfort for me. Hallucinations and Sleep paralysis having had such an impact on me and how I ultimately view the world around me has taken its toll and has given me more suffering then I ever knew what was possible.

I have been anxious, paranoid, and tired for so long that I don't think I have ever had a normal feeling, and that is something I am just going to have to live with but I find comfort in fiction and comfort in knowing that yes the world is but a rolling black ocean and I am but a tiny spec in it's pools but I think I can hang.

chaotic or unknowable dnd realm

limbo in and is the ever-churning chaos and is very chaotic. but in my opinion, its chaos isn’t chaotic enough. and the far realm is an unknowable and corruptive place from somewhere across the universe (i haven’t done much research on the far realm :/) so what ima be doing is creating an eldrich chaos realm  

since this realm is alien or unstable chaos these are probably selectively or randomly active

well, first of all, you wouldn't expect chaos to be recognizable but limbo is churning matter and energy. this is probably due to the spawning stone and the lore around it but I just want more chaos. my solution to recognizableness is to make a chart of senses and types of feelings you can feel with those senses and contradict what can normally be felt/heard/seen/smelt/tasted and use senses interchangeably in descriptions (e.g: you taste that the creature is green. you can feel that there is a loud scent floating around you.) also perception is one thing. this will make interactions hard in limbo so I would recommend either using limbo or perception sparingly.

if you want some more understandability this realm could be shaped by thoughts and memories. I’m thinking it would constantly be described as nostalgic but uncanny or be built from scraps and pieces of buildings they have seen or been before but twisted and warped. also probably taken over by creatures of some kind of aberrant origin (think like the tentacles or really anything from stranger things upside down.)

since it’s a realm of mind, I’m thinking information can react in weird ways. maybe the world gets more sensical as the party gains knowledge from creatures somehow by maybe hearing their death whisper to them or something. I’m thinking the optional rule from limbo where you can manipulate stuff with intelligence checks would work well here but maybe with corruption to what they want like if they make the air around something into water it would be as deep as the ocean towards its center and would drag them in, or if they make a stone pillar it would create one with intricate unknowable carvings that you can enter and get lost in the world of if you aren't careful. maybe there's some kind of thing like with being able to feel words and or music so well to be able to use it to do things like building a bridge of music or something odd like that 

of course, gravity would be relatively allowing everyone to non-magically but effectively is under the spider climb effect while they are there being able to walk along the relative floors. 

maybe physical space is different. like everything has a singularity and beyond that lies everything they do not see. but in the singularity, they see all around them such as inside of people’s bodies, through walls the spin of every non-aberrant matter’s electrons. speaking of aberrant matter, I’m thinking the aberrant matter is unstable until minds bend it to a shape, and even said shape can be unstable unless the mind is powerful as I have sort of said before. aberrations can understand this matter for what it truly is and can make superior materials out of it (like indestructible materials and materials that can act outside of physics like passing through stuff or petrifying things that perceive it or maybe even turning things into fruit that decays swiftly into spider legged mini goblins that are suicidal before becoming a metal blanket soaked in radioactive starlight that softly cries in the tune of the universe. etc).

this all has a lot of potential but needs proper work so I would recommend listening to some cool cosmic horror stuff if you plan on making actual rules for this. maybe if you're good at science you can work in some time or reality bending shenanigans

POA Synopsis/Inspiration - Spoilers

Planet of the Amazons began as a horror story I dreamt of one night wayyy back in 2017 --

"Every year when the moon is full and the sun eclipses and the sky turns red, a portal between worlds opens. . .and whether you know it or not the dead walk among you. Every Halloween the destroyer of worlds swears his soul to the god of death, the god who lies in his shadow quaking in fear and scorn. . . It was decided by mankind - after the creatures of the night crawled out from the earth where the great comet fell and many wars were fought — that the great beast would be allowed to rule for just one night; just one night to take and do all he pleased — and all he pleased caused Death himself to grieve. In one night the great beast devoured more souls than Death could capture, and in one night the great beast amassed more gold than dragons could covet. . .The great beast whose name couldn’t be spoken without causing the hearts of men to faint — whose war cries bounded off of the mountains and brought down forests, whose fury parted oceans and split the earth. . . And he was my love. None knew what laid beneath the mask, what creature wore the suit of armor but I did. . . He was mine and I was his. Sworn to his side. Bound."

And I mean, whatever, right? I was seventeen going on eighteen heavily influenced by Game of Thrones and the Gothic Horror/Romance Genre. When I dreamt about his armor, it was like something out of Dark Souls, and his name was very Lovecraftian. It was like 15 letters long and I'm afraid to say it out loud for fear of summoning an actual demon.

Anyways! I started trying to build on that idea, on those three dreams. The first where I'd seen an actual monster destroying and milling the world, the second where he turned into a person and was living with "me" and the third, where "I" was actively participating in burning and pillaging the countryside.

What if they were both night creatures and crawled out of the earth together? What if they were giants? What if she was a part of the earth itself? What if they were like steven universe and they created lesser beings as if they were the diamonds? What if she were mortal? What if he were this great cosmic evil in love with this tiny precious warrior? And he’s just a punch clock villain? Or a yakuza slash house husband? But mostly I kept trying to understand how you could love something so wicked and vile? And be so normal? Be a captain? A general? OR what if it was simply a matter of perspective and he wasn’t wicked or vile?

What could make you love a monster?

And because of that I made "Hari", one of my favorite characters and one of the only guy characters I’ve ever truly cared about.

And as I went through the process of trying to ground it, romanticizing him, like he’s Gary Oldman's Dracula I kind of had a heel-turn realization. Bram Stoker didn't initially envision Dracula as romantic or worthy of sympathy, you mostly see him through other characters and he doesn't have any ties to Mina. But James V Hart and Francis Ford Coppola had other ideas when they adapted the classic into a movie. . . anyways, there's a trope called "Cry for the Devil" for a reason. In the new narrative, Dracula was a man of the people and a well-loved leader who damned himself for the love of his Mina, raging against the heavens which definitely doesn't justify all of the vicious rape and murder but young Gary Oldman, Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise--and characters like Eric and Bill or Damon and Stefan can help you figure it out. I think the actors for Eric Northman and Damon Salvatore cared more about the actions of their characters than the raging adoring fans did. Or villains like Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender.

And when I think of music for Hari and his world I think of Metallica and Filter. . . Songs like Pretty Piece of flesh and the Devil does Drugs -- things like Alternative-Rock from the 90s early 2000s, Neo Metal and Punk they used in early 2000s vampire movies and games ie Blade or Vampire Bloodlines: The Masquerade.

For the second half of the story, I was honestly really into like Star Trek at the time. I watched Star Wars "A New Hope" once, forgot about it, forgot where I'd seen Adam Driver from, and began binging the original Star Trek show in its place.

Hari had a girlfriend/wife/life partner that needed a backstory, or at least an explanation that I no longer felt made sense to the original dream I'd had. What kind of creature or person would love a flawed monster like Hari? Would rule by his side? The concept I came up with still might not make any sense but at this point, I don't care because I got caught up in a whole different theme. I can't turn back now.

I started off with the simple concept of some random space travelers crashing onto a foreign planet for whatever reason whether it be for space exploration or looking for a new home or y'a know fleeing their homeland/the law — and as a result, they find themselves stranded on this barren (or flourishing) planet // but really there are invisible barriers and walls buildings built into the planet--and there are "people" living there. . .

And as our precious protagonists explore the planet, they find it’s like an island full of everything that could possibly kill you — the flora is beautiful but poisonous and the fauna is oversized & hungry 😂 Sort of like Skull Island meets Pandora from Avatar. . . And the "people" are all female. '

Ie where the title even comes from "Planet of the Amazons" and the ball just started rolling. There's this beautiful period in pop culture where space serials and science fiction were just hot--popping and the art that came from it was just phenomenal. Movies like Flash Gordon or Mom & Dad Save the World started coming to mind; that weird campy 70s 80s level of sci-fi ham--the age of Raygun Gothic and Pulp Fiction comics started coming to mind and I knew I had my idea.

And I get it. It's a complete tonal shift, an entirely different genre but I think we can make it work. If it happens in different time periods or even a different series altogether, which is what I decided on in the end. . . But realistically, the Planet of the Amazons is how and where Hari really gets his origin story. Although some stories are better off without knowing a couple of details, Hari isn't entirely a villain or rather a villain I don't want to be redeemed.

So! What and how could something like Hari come into power? What could give him power over life and death? What even is Hari? I came up with the answer after reading/writing a "Game of Thrones" inspired Avengers fic. . . In Greek Mythology, the Amazons copulated with the neighboring Gargareans in order to keep both tribes going. It's just that simple. And from there I wrote this weird intergalactic space mythology inspired by that simple concept, the camp of the 70s and 80s, and HP Lovecraft's Mythos.

Akasha was sort of a character born out of an ideal? I draw a lot of similarities between Akasha and Jade as well as Creed and Hari--and it's honestly because I started writing Planet of the Amazons to replace the older story. I wanted to try and write what I thought healthy love and healthy relationships looked like. . . I failed and wound up writing more weird science fiction.

Akasha is living an idyllic life, truly, and she was made to rule, literally. Her storyline isn't necessarily about breaking the mold, but more about her struggling with rejecting it as not being confident or comfortable in said mold. Hers is sometimes a cautionary tale of "Be Careful of What You Wish For" but at the same, Akasha's story is mainly about pilgrimage and personal esteem? Or whatever lesson Thor was supposed to learn in the first two Kenneth Brannagh movies. I think I deal with the same themes in what I write, over and over again: "Be Careful What You Wish For" loneliness, depression, trauma. . . and this is no different. You'd be damned to find any positive or healthy kind of love right off the bat for any of my characters, let alone main characters. . .

I liked the simple concept of some random humans crashing onto a foreign planet for whatever reason whether it be for space exploration or just looking for a new home or y'a know fleeing someone behind them — and as a result, they find themselves stranded on this barren (or flourishing) planet // but really there are invisible barriers and walls buildings built into the planet--and there are "people" living there. . .

And as our precious protagonists explore the planet, they find it’s like an island full of everything that could possibly kill you — the flora is beautiful but poisonous and the fauna is oversized & hungry 😂 Sort of like Skull Island meets Pandora from Avatar

— so say they were explorers and their ship is broken so they can’t leave?

— so like every scouting party and hunting party (and yadda) of whatever kind has failed to both make contact with the native indigenous species—the amazons, as well as map the entirety of the geography of the planet because it’s so vast; they noted a few animal species and a couple of plant files, but not enough to safely navigate

And anyways! They discover that the natives are highly territorial — and although they’ve never seen one up close :/ or at all? Someone/something is hanging up massive dead animals along the tree line as if to warn the newcomers + as if to say you can’t see us but we’re watching you

I think tho, I had Akasha and her friends sort of watching the crash landed people — curious. Because the Amazons are notoriously all female. This time they’re colorful female aliens with multiple extremities and they’ve exiled/

And then highkey I was reading this fanfic of medieval avengers that was GOT inspired and I got to thinking about the Gargareans. . .

It’s typical to have a story like “first time I’m seeing a man, wow Gotta have sex and fall in love”

Or something like “unite two kingdoms by arranged marriage”

And I wasn’t sure I wanted that route

So instead I leaned into the gothic/cosmic horror genre

I love government conspiracies waaaay too much. . .

So Planet of the Amazons became this story with a lot of history and lore // the Gargarean’s were an ancient race of space giants as were the Amazons

— the Amazons were conquerors, world destroyers, colonizers; they eclipsed suns and devoured them as well etc like Galactus // they consumed Star ways and planets + and what they didn’t eat, they’d bring home to colonize and subjugate — they were known to bathe starways in red

And the Gargareans were sort of the opposite, they worshipped strange gods and were more interested in science — like they built a human zoo. Y’a know? They were collectors and liked to pretend they were more civilized and peaceful )) and the strange gods they worshipped granted them powers and blessings etc

And at some point the Amazons and Gargareans began to sort of mix together // whether it was before or after the ancient grudge was settled

// so the boys from their union were sort of were cursed + and the Amazons were infected

— which is why we have Cetus

— and why we have Hari

— and that’s why modern Amazon women have ancient magic beyond the sorcery they already practiced

And eventually it was just like the Amazons had to exile their men because the Gargareans pushed them over the edge // and the only way to keep the Amazons alive was to do so, to use science and tech to continue breeding but keep the secs desperate and the men in chains/spell bound

Meanwhile, the Gargareans sort of began to crumble ad well because their strange gods were angry. . . They worshipped gods who were being puppeted by an old cosmic evil beyond our concepts of space and time like the Crimson King / and that cosmic evil wanted to be a part of our reality?

So the cosmic evil manipulated the children of the amazons and gargareans // or tried to // the amazons have their own magic — but the Gargareans were vulnerable. So Cetus becomes the great hammer for the cosmic evil, their puppet and wreaks havoc on Gargarean decimating their numbers and terrifying them into submission

But Cetus sort of goes crazy with all that power and the fact that cosmic evil drives you insane — so he’s more like a mad dog, y’a know? And he starts eating and growing and he never stops + and he knows he has to get to the Amazons before it’s too late

Anyways!

The Gargareans Started killing the children they had with the Amazon/practicing child sacrifice because their gods were angry

Which caused a HORRIBLE war between the amazons and the garagareans that lasted for a long time

It led Hari’s parents to abandon him on a random planet that at the moment is earth // and that’s where he grew up under the watchful eye of Death himself