theshapeshifter100
Time for some Magic
Writing, singing, crackpot headcanons. And arse kicking. Seriously, so much of that.
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biggest crucible of putting any creative product out there on the internet to see it agonizing over the details for far too long, finally getting the courage to hit post, and then the moment afterwards being like 'oh no i've totally overestimated the idea that anyone besides me will ever like this. i am a fool' and sitting in that feeling for far too long before realizing that AO3 takes a while to update or you've posted your meme at 3am when most of the people you know are asleep
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Whatever the case, feel free to write long-winded explanations in the tags, I WILL read them!
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$122,000. And the thing is so shodily designed that the accelerator can become that easily stuck. It isn't even all one piece.
$122,000. That's more than my entire household income, and we're 3 adults with full-time jobs.
If you gave that $122,000 to Feeding America, that would provide over 1 million meals.
That's $122,000 more than Tesla paid in taxes.
#'I thought it was broke but nope!'#mate#part of your accelator came off and got stuck#I think that counts as broken
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I brought this unused Loki concept to life!!
I’d been eyeing this stunning design by @aleksibriclot for years, and a little while ago (after two years of working on it) I finally finished it! It has all the dark norse fantasy vibes that I wanted Ragnarok to be, and I figured hey, I can make it myself!
I had to up a lot of my leatherworking skills for this one, and I dove into a lot of new skills as well to try to make all the pieces a cohesive whole. It uses lambskin leather, suede cowhide, and veg tan, as well as an entire sheepskin for the cape!
This whole costume has truly been a labour of Loki love and I’m so glad I was able to share all the madness (process) and the finished look!
wip tag | more of this costume
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Silly wee Jonathan Harker warmup sketch idk if I’ll ever finish
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So I’m about to make a completely insane post. Excuse me.
So I got this comment on Peaks and Valleys the other day, on the chapter where Blue is in the airport and has to put all his Pokemon in holding.
Grabs this anon’s shoulders. I thought about this. I thought about this a lot. I went back and forth on it during this chapter so much.
And I actually concluded that the airline security does not necessarily imply this. While a lot of our real-world flight security was considerably tightened and comes as a direct result of 9/11, I don’t think that’s the case here.
I think this is actually much more mundane safety concerns. Even an incredibly well-trained and well-behaved Pikachu, if surprised by a bout of turbulence, might let off some static. That’s going to interfere with the equipment and make things unsafe.
What about the incredibly variable size and shape of pokemon - what happens if some kid releases Mom’s Nidoqueen or Wailord in the middle of a flight? That’s a big and heavy pokemon to suddenly have in an enclosed space where weight of cargo has to be well accounted for.
Even if you bring a small Pokémon, evolution could happen really suddenly - especially due to environmental effects. Imagine someone’s got their cute little Tyrunt next to them on the flight, it sneaks a rare candy or something, and next thing you know there’s a massive 600lbs Tyrantrum to deal with.
What about the effects on the pokemon themselves - moving quickly at high altitudes between different places and weather patterns is probably going to make a Castform kind of sick and out of sorts.
Pokeball locking, enforcing Everstone use, or having specific regulations about what Pokémon can go on flights and what can’t. Those could be feasible solutions but would also require a lot of overhead. There’s hundreds of different Pokemon, the average flight holds about 200 people, every single person could carry up to 6 pokemon with them. That’s a LOT of SOPs and guidelines to write, a lot of things to check, potentially a lot of things for passengers to get done (I didn’t consider this at the time because it was pre-Scarvio, but Everstones can only be bought in ScarVio at 3000 yen a pop - otherwise they have to be found in the wild. That’s an expensive and annoying thing to source for either passengers or the airline).
The most effective solution - short of forcing everyone to put their pokemon in boxes to get on the other end (and box software varies by region potentially causing complication, a lot of people would really resist this, etc), is just to securely hold all Pokémon in the same way apart from the human passengera until the end of the flight.
In conclusion: never think I didn’t excessively think about the implications of Pokemon air travel in my gay fanfic. I am insane and I did.
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Reblog this if you’re pro-receiving a brown paper package containing one (1) handwritten love letter, a small jar of strawberry jam from the farmers market, and a smattering of pressed flowers.
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My new YouTube video: A DM’s Guide to Ranged Combat is now live! Please go give it a watch!
If you’re a DM looking for a way to challenge your overspecced crossbow player, or just generally make mixed-range combat more interesting and enjoyable, it’s full of helpful tips and visualisations. Plus, supporting these long videos really helps keep my channel alive and funds more future content!
youtube
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logically i know modern horses aren't native to the americas like that was a whole Thing but it causes such cognizant dissonance to think of there being wild horses in europe. like that can't be right. there's no fucking cowboys there.
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when I see something dated 2019 I think “oh that’s not too long ago” and then I remember that 2019 was not only five years ago but those five years have somehow contained several lifetimes
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So. While the current arsehole serving as UK PM is currently coming out with all kinds of nasty policies to appeal to the worst of his voter base, I wanted to say two things to fellow disabled and long term sick Brits.
Firstly, Sunak does not believe he or the Conservatives are going to be in power by the end of the year, so most of this shit isn't going to happen. While the alternatives are also not great, they are marginally less horrible.
Secondly, if/when you are forced to go through a Work Capability Assessment, it is your right to demand it be recorded. They will try to dissuade you, but you can refuse an appointment unless and until they agree. You receive a copy of the recording (just put it somewhere safe, don't listen to it unless you need to). Now you have concrete proof of what happened in the assessment, which makes it harder for them to screw you over.
My last WCA was during lockdown, so it was a remote one. It was delayed for 2 months because I demanded a recording. And it was the second time ever in 15 years that I didn't have to go to tribunal. I also was moved from the limited work group to the support group.
Hopefully this helps someone. Hang in there everyone. We are worth it.
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Okay, buckle up buckaroos, because today I met an honest-to-goodness cryptid.
I was out running errands and I made a stop at Intimate Books (…for a friend), and on my way out I realized that the bookshop next door was open.
This bookshop has existed for more than a hundred years, and in all my life it has NEVER BEEN OPEN. I mean, I assume it has to be open sometimes, but never at any normal, reasonable hour. Everyone says it’s a front for the mob or something.
So what do you do when the weird mafia bookshop is open? You go the fuck inside.
The first thing I noticed was the smell. You know that smell when you accidentally leave your towel on the bathroom floor all day and you come back to that mildew funk? The shop smelled like that times a thousand. I expected to see stuff growing on the walls, but the books were pristine. We’re talking first editions, rare editions, weird Bibles and books inscribed to really famous dead people. Librarians would weep for the chance to accession this place. In the first two minutes I found a signed copy of The Crucible and what I think was a first edition of Blake’s Book of Thel.
Then a clerk showed up out of nowhere—honestly nowhere. He looked EXACTLY like a bookseller should look, kind of fluffy and bewildered and really, really gay.
“Are you lost?” was the first thing he said to me.
“Nope. Just browsing, thanks.”
“Browsing, I see. Erm. How do you feel about snakes?” he asked. And without waiting for me to answer, he just walked away and vanished around a shelf.
I figured it was a metaphor, or a code phrase for the mafia. Until I turned a corner like ten minutes later and found a little reading nook. It was really pretty, although I feel like that particular window should have been on an interior wall? Anyway, curled up in an armchair in a patch of sunlight was the biggest fuck-off black snake I have ever seen.
Like, I don’t mind snakes in general. But in their normal context, right? Outside. On the ground. Not six feet long and sitting on a threadbare velvet armchair like it owns the place.
I was about to turn around and leave, but I saw a gorgeous first-edition copy of Leaves of Grass on a shelf, a little too close to the snake for comfort. But I had never needed anything so badly in my life.
So I went back to the counter to buy it, but the clerk was nowhere to be found.
While I was waiting, I noticed a collection of pictures hanging on the wall behind the counter, dating back to the very dawn of photography. A couple were of this rock-star looking guy from the 70s that I should probably have recognized, but there were authors and landscapes and stuff, too. There was even an old tintype portrait of Oscar freaking Wilde, sitting in this very shop with a guy that I would ACTUALLY SWEAR was the clerk from before. Like, I know my family all has the same nose, but this guy had the same everything.
After approximately one year of waiting, the clerk came back out to the desk. By now I’ve realized that he’s too bad at his job to be anything but the owner of the shop.
“I saw your snake,” I told him.
“Did you? Was he behaving himself?”
“He was sleeping.”
“Yes, he enjoys that.”
“Does he just stay out in the open like that? What if he gets out?”
He shrugged and smiled. “He always comes home again, the dear boy.”
Right, a homing snake. That’s totally normal.
Then he cleared his throat and asked, in a weirdly reluctant voice, if I was going to buy the Whitman.
“Yes, please,” I told him. “I saw it on a shelf by the snake, and it was just too tempting.”
He sighed. “Oh, yes, I expect it was.”
When I started to hand him my card, he went all fluttery and said that they didn’t take cards.
All right, fine. I had some cash on me, but I told him that he’d sell a lot more books if he got a Square or something.
He got this scandalized look on his face and went, “Why would I want to do that?”
Oookay. I handed over the cash and he popped open the ancient till and started making change.
In shillings. Shillings! I swear to god I saw Queen Anne’s face on one of them. The silver value of the coins was probably as much as I paid for the book.
But I had to have proof that this happened—at that point, all I had was a book in a plain brown wrapper, not appreciably different from what I bought next door. So I asked him for a receipt.
He looked delighted and wrote one up for me.
By hand.
With a fountain pen.
And that’s the story of how I met a bookseller cryptid and his pet snake.
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If you're in the need for some kind of magical artifact of magic for your setting, consider Fresnel Lenses which are used in lighthouses:
These things are Alive.
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#Other#he plays the drums for one#He's technically a story teller as well#he's lizardfolk and I tried to lean into what kind of music would come from that
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people on my "making AUs for OCs" post keep going like "oh you mean like a STORY? like a BOOK? OP that's just a STORY!!" like no you don't get it. you don't get how much my friends and i play with our ocs like dolls. we're talking swap AUs. homestuck classpecting. MLP AUs. evil AU. "so just making stories" you're like a little baby to me. leave my sight
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