#Roman needs a cape

[libraryofgage]

Life in Miniature (One)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedediah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One (you're here!)

There will be more Jedtavius in the next parts I promise, I just thought this would be a funner introduction to the AU lmao

I just love those little guy dudes from the museum so much hfjdks and now we get two pairs of them

Also, fun fact, I took Steve's Roman name from, like, an actual king of Rome. The actual sixth king. He seemed like a chill dude.

Anyway, there's a meme at the end and as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

---------

When Robin took this job as a night guard, she didn't think the previous guard's words about history coming to life at night was, you know, real. She thought it was a joke, a predictable and corny joke, but a joke nonetheless.

But now, after being chased by a T-Rex, getting saved by Theodore Roosevelt, and almost being taken captive by fucking Attila the Hun, Robin thinks this job definitely isn't worth $16.50 an hour. Then again, this is the best paying job she's had in a while, and she was living a nocturnal life anyway.

Robin groans, leaning against a wall in the diorama exhibit, and slides down to the floor. She lets her head fall back against the wall, her eyes slipping shut as she slides. "This is crazy. This is insane. I need to find a fucking weapon or something," she mutters.

"Pardon me," comes a voice close to her head, "but might you be the goddess Diana?"

As pick-up lines go, it's not the worst one she's heard. And, based on what she knows of Greek and Roman deities, it wouldn't be too far off. Still, she does not want to be hit on by whatever weird historical thing is trying to flirt with her.

Robin takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and says, "Do I look like a goddess to you?"

She looks to her left where the voice came from, blinking when her gaze falls on a figurine that would barely reach her ankle. He's dressed in a toga with a chest plate, wrist guards, a sword on his waist, and a deep purple cape over his shoulders. His hair is, honestly, the most impressive thing Robin has ever seen, made only more impressive by the golden laurels resting perfectly against his temples.

He's looking at her with wide eyes, more awed than anything else. "Yes," he says. "I have heard the gods are larger than life."

Okay. Fair.

"Why Diana, man?" Robin asks.

He tilts his head, studying her for a moment, looking her up and down. "You give me the same feeling as statues of Noble Diana with her Huntresses," he explains, pausing for a moment before adding, "A feeling of kinship, perhaps?"

Oh. This...this is like ancient Roman gaydar, right? Robin snorts and turns, resting her elbow on her knee. "I'm definitely not Diana. My name is Robin. I'm the new night guard."

His eyes brighten some, his smile growing wider and certainly charming enough to make the hearts of a few girls and guys flutter. "I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army."

Robin nods, letting all of the those words process in her head before saying, "Mind if I call you Steve? You look like a Steve."

The Sixth King of Rome blinks, looking slightly confused before his eyes light up with understanding. "Ah! A nickname! Yes, I am familiar with this concept. You may call me Steve, Lady Robin, as a show of our newfound friendship."

"Yeah, don't call me Lady Robin. Just Robin is fine," she says, hesitating before offering her hand to Steve.

"As you wish, Just Robin," he says, stepping carefully onto her hand and remaining steady as she raises him higher.

Robin blinks, frowning slightly and about to correct him again when she sees his smile and realizes it's a joke. "Okay, very funny, dingus," she says, carefully poking his side.

"Is dingus another nickname? It sounds like an insult."

"It usually is, but it's affectionate when I say it."

"Oh! Yes, like when Ockie calls Jed a philistine."

"Uh, sure," Robin says, nodding once as she lets Steve move to stand on her shoulder. He quickly sits, holding onto the collar of her jacket as she carefully stands up. "Hey, you know what I'm supposed to do about the dinosaur bones?"

"Rexy? Yes, he enjoys a game of fetch."

"Fetch. Of course."

----------

"What's going on in that head of yours, little man?"

Steve blinks, looks over at Jedediah, and raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm taller than you," he says, gesturing to the good inch he has on Jedediah.

"As long as you're my son, you're a little man."

Doing his best to not laugh, Steve nods once and points to the new diorama set up in the middle of the room. It's a circular diorama, centered on an equally circular stage divided into sections. A cacophony of noise echoes from it, clashing as each slice of the stage fights for dominance. "I'm trying to figure out what in Jupiter's name they're doing over there," he says.

"Well, most of it sounds like music," Jedediah says, "I think."

"It's not any music I've heard before," Octavius says, coming to a stop next to Jedediah and frowning at the diorama. "I would have assumed it the unholy shrieking of the damned."

"Perhaps it would be nicer if they weren't all playing at once," Steve suggests, hands on his hips as he tilts his head.

"Oh, boy, there it is," Jedediah says, his grin audible in his tone. "He's got the King Face."

"What are your intentions, my boy?" Octavius asks.

Before Steve can answer, Robin strolls into the room, grinning when she sees the raving diorama in the middle. She walks over to Steve, Jedediah, and Octavius, crouches down, and says, "Hey, guys. I see you're checking out the History of Rock display."

"History of Rock?" Steve asks.

"What in the sweet hell do rocks have to do with that mess?" Jedediah asks, gesturing to the noisy stage.

Robin rolls her eyes. "No, like, rock music. It's a genre. Anyway, it was sponsored by some musician, so it's a permanent display now."

"And they will be...playing every night?" Octavius asks.

"Probably."

Steve frowns a little more and nods, rolling his shoulders back. "If they are a permanent fixture in our hallowed hall, they must be welcomed. As Sixth King of Rome, this duty falls upon my shoulders. Fathers, I shall return shortly."

"Woah, woah, hold your horses there, little man," Jedediah says, moving to stand in front of Steve. "You're not going anywhere near that snake pit without some back up."

"A few centurions, at least," Octavius agrees.

"I will have Robin. What better protection is there?"

Jedediah and Octavius glance at each other before looking at Robin. She grins and offers them a two finger salute. "I'll guard him with my life," she says, "It's literally my job."

With that reassurance, Jedediah and Octavius move out of the way. Steve steps onto Robin's hand and settles on her shoulder with practiced ease, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach at greeting the new museum residents. He hopes they'll get along, but he also knows the might of his Roman army and the railroad workers can crush any who stand in their way.

Robin stops next to the diorama, tilting her head as she studies it. This close, Steve can see the bands playing on each slice of stage, the instruments and fashion shifting as his gaze travels around it. "Uh, excuse me," Robin says, raising her voice.

The raucous noise from the diorama screeches to a halt, the feedback making Robin and Steve grimace slightly. "Uh, hi. We're the official welcome crew for the Hall of Miniatures here. So, I'll need someone to represent your, like, whole display," Robin says, glancing over the bands until she finds one she recognizes. "Okay, I know you guys, so I'll be designating you the spokesband. Now, could the lead singer step forward?"

Steve watches as someone on the "Corroded Coffin" (what an odd name for a band) slice of the stage steps forward. Robin offers her hand to them, carefully lifting it away once they step on. "Great, uh, carry on, I guess. But, like, maybe play some of your quieter stuff for a bit," she says, her words barely out before the music starts up and the crowds start screaming once more.

She sighs and just walks over to the bench, letting off the person on her hand before letting Steve slide down her arm in a move they spent nearly three weeks practicing if only because they knew it would look cool.

When he hops onto the bench, Steve walks up to the other miniature, a man his age with long hair and odd clothes with tears that Robin once said were fashionable. His instrument is still slung over his shoulders, resting casually against his hips much like Steve's sword. Steve suddenly finds himself thinking that the man looks a little like a warrior. An odd one, to be sure, but a handsome one nonetheless.

He flashes his most charming smile, lets his shoulders relax, and says, "My friend here is Robin, Guardian of Brooklyn. I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army. You, however, may call me Steve."

-----

As far as Eddie was concerned, nothing mattered so long as Corroded Coffin got to keep rocking in an endless concert. The energy never waned, the set list never grew boring, and the music never stopped. He was ready to inform this welcoming crew of just that and promise Hell on Earth if they tried to disrupt the music (angry concert goers are a force of nature), when the words just died in his throat.

Because the most gorgeous man he's ever seen slides down that giant lady's arm, easily and smoothly landing on the bench. Somehow, his hair is perfectly windswept, the golden laurels glinting in the lights above them. His purple cape flutters softly as he walks closer, his toned thighs on full display with the toga hem that falls to the middle of them. There's a sword on the guy's hip, a chest plate that Eddie wants to pull off, a smile he wants to taste, and a pair of freckles right next to each other on the guy's cheek he wants to drag his tongue across.

He misses most of the introduction because he's too busy staring. He gets the important bits, though: Robin, a king, son of a god, adopted son of two dads. Eddie licks his lips nervously, a grin of his own tugging at his lips as he steps forward and playfully bows. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," he says.

It's supposed to come out joking, a little poke at the guy's authority to see if he can be riled up. It actually comes out way too genuine, and Eddie has a sudden realization that he meant it. He absolutely will accept this guy as his king, actually. He'll fall to his knees before him right now if asked, and not just because it might give him a little peek under the dude's toga.

"Please, just call me Steve. There's no need to be so formal."

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, hoping Steve doesn't realize that the things Eddie is thinking about (the things he wants to do to and with Steve) are just about the least formal things on this earth. "Good to know," he says, relieved his voice sounds normal as he stands up straight and offers his hand. "Name's Eddie Munson, uh, lead singer of Corroded Coffin."

Steve blinks, and his smile becomes a bit more genuine as he steps closer and clasps Eddie's forearm. "A fellow leader," he says, squeezing Eddie's arm. "Welcome to our museum."

"Y-yeah," Eddie says, his arm still tingling when Steve lets go. He clears his throat, idly tugging on a few strands of hair. "So, uh, what's the deal around here? I mean, giant women...Roman kings...cowboys, it looks like."

"Our noble museum is home to Pharoah Ahkmenrah and his tablet, which brings the exhibits to life each night," Steve explains.

"There's a few rules, though," Robin says, sitting down on the bench behind Steve. "One, no getting into fights. Two, be back in your display by sunrise. Three, no leaving the museum at night."

"What? Why not?"

"We have lost good exhibits to Sol Invictus's morning rays," Steve says, frowning slightly. "So, be careful."

Eddie stares at Steve with wide eyes as he nods, amazed at the fact that Steve seems to talk like that so genuinely. And the fact that Eddie is...kinda into it. Holy shit, that's not helping with Eddie's whole "fall to his knees" thing. He wouldn't mind some good old-fashioned worship if Steve would just smile at him again.

Maybe his prayers are heard, because Steve smiles at him again. "Wonderful," he says. "Now, Eddie, could I interest you in a tour of the museum tonight?"

"Oh, you could interest me in a lot of things, sweetheart," Eddie blurts out, his mouth running faster than his brain.

He snaps his jaw shut, relieved and horrified at Steve's slightly confused expression and Robin's "I know what you are" thousand-yard stare from over his shoulder. Before he can try to backtrack, Steve snaps, understanding in his eyes. "Ah! Sweetheart is a nickname, yes? I accept your offer of friendship."

Eddie clenches his jaw, stopping himself from saying that it's more than friendships he's offering, and smiles. "Yeah. A nickname. That's all. I'm just...a nickname kinda guy. I'll probably think of more, too, Stevie. Like that."

Steve practically beams, and Eddie feels his knees go weak. "I look forward to it," he says, turning on his heel to look at Robin, who thankfully schools her expression. "Robin, this is where we leave you for the night. You have my word that Eddie will be back in place before sunrise."

"Well, you two kids have fun," she says, grinning in a way that immediately puts Eddie on edge. "I'd better not hear about any funny business, though. Absolutely no bases should be reached tonight, and you'd better not do any conquering or pillaging."

She definitely looks at Eddie when she says that last bit. Eddie stiffens, doing his best to hold back a blush when Steve glances over at his, the confusion clear on his face. "Conquering requires more planning than this, Robin. I've told you before."

"Don't worry about it, dingus. Just have fun. Here, I'll even call a ride for you," she says, winking at them before turning, holding her fingers to her mouth, and whistling sharply.

Steve walks over to Eddie right as the ground starts to shake, easily catching him around the waist before he can lose his balance. "The shaking does take some getting used to," he says, his tone full of sympathy and obliviousness to the crisis Eddie is experiencing.

When his brain finally catches up enough to ask what he's talking about, a dinosaur skeleton slides into the room, its body wiggling excitedly as it growls. Eddie jerks back, the arm around his waist tightening some. "What the fuck?!" he shouts.

"Worry not," Steve says, leaning closer. His voice is a little softer now, his breath fanning over Eddie's ear. "This is Rexy, our steed for the evening. He's very friendly."

"Friendly," Eddie mumbles, letting himself be dragged over to Rexy and placed on the dinosaur's head by Robin. "The dinosaur is friendly."

"Many of the exhibits are," Steve tells him, grinning brightly as Rexy begins moving after a pet on the snout from Robin.

Eddie looks at him, feeling blinded by Steve's smile once more, and completely forgets about the living dinosaur skeleton.

--------

Lemme know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

(Also I know there are like one or two upcoming parent AUs that people have asked to be tagged in and I tried to see if this was one of them but couldn't find anyone for the life of me hfjdks so I'm sorry if you asked on another post and I missed you orz)

And, finally, a meme for you

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #Mini Steddie #the tag for this series #steve deserves good parents actually #night at the museum #natm crossover #natm jedediah #natm octavius #jedtavius #the worship kink was a surprise to me too actually #and then i realized it was v on brand #have fun guys #there ought to be shenanigans aplenty

[vintagesimstress]

A bunch of random WIPs which will hopefully be finished soon (if my PC stops acting up the way it is now 🙄). Most of those things are almost ready for release, but there's always just this one tiny detail left to improve...

Details under the cut in case you're interested!

A loose-fitting Celtic tunic worn over an underdress, in 2 flavours: with narrow and wide sleeves. I made it over a year ago (!!!) and used a lot in my game, but somehow never was fully satisfied with the way those wide sleeves work - so, that's something to take a closer look at. I decided it also needs a new uv map (getting those sleeves out of the sleeves area), so that I could easily add short-sleeved and sleeveless variations. Also, age conversions, at least for a child. Also, tartan. And an overlay for mix&matching. And... 💀

A Roman ship from sketchfab, in 2 versions. This one is basically done, but one of the versions has an exploding shadow lod for some reason, so obviously I have to somehow fix it before release. No idea how though. By making a new package probably, I've heard that works 😅

A Romano-Viking Londinum house, also found on sketchfab, to be used as hood deco. Also was about to be released, but I decided it needs a decent uv map first, because the current one... oh boy. That means lots of seams marking. I think I'm ca. 75% done with this one.

Gallo-Roman earrings, based on a photo found on Pinterest. The mesh works perfectly fine, but I still need to work on the texture. Finding proper lighting settings should be the key - then it'll be just baking and voila!

A CK3 cape converted to TS4. A.k.a. my latest obsession 😉 Still needs some weights etc. tweaking, then age conversions, and then... Off to the next of the looted meshes! 🏴‍☠️ It might be the latest of my projects, but it'll probably end up getting released as the first one from this list 😁

#wips #vintage rambles #vs wips

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

Filmmakers are really sleeping on the potential of portraying Caesar and Cleopatra's affair as a black comedy:

14-year-old King Ptolemy accidentally makes 52-year-old Julius Caesar cry by handing him a severed head as a "Welcome to Egypt!" present

Caesar is now in the incredibly awkward position of trying to get a teenage king to kiss and make up with his sister/wife instead of warring against her

Oh yeah Caesar you just walked into a civil war and now you're surrounded by 500,000+ Egyptians who want you dead WHOOPS

Said sister/wife pops out of laundry bag and immediately wins Caesar's favor by being A) a responsible adult, b) literally Cleopatra, and C) the only person in this country that isn't trying to kill him or hand him severed heads

She's still trying to murder her brother-husband though let's not get too wild lol

Anyway Caesar and Cleopatra sleep together and her 14-year-old brother-husband finds out the next morning and hits the fucking roof

Congratulations Caesar you found the one way to make this situation so much worse

I don't want to know how many complexes that poor child must have

Ptolemy sics his army on the Romans but claims to know nothing about it. Caesar is not fooled but humors him because 1) the kid is 14 and 2) Caesar is still trying to get Ptolemy and Cleopatra to be a normal non-murdery couple. Even though he's still sleeping with Cleo. Yeah.

Cleo and Ptolemy react about as well as you would if you were told to marry your sibling

Ptolemy sends his army after Caesar and now the 4,000 Romans have to hold out against the entire Egyptian army and 500,000+ furious Alexandrians

Did I mention Caesar is also asking Cleo's family for money

Yeah he needs it to pay for the other civil war he's procrastinating on

His enemies still have an army. Caesar's just ignoring them.

Caesar is still trying not to strangle a small child, and won't let Ptolemy or Cleo kill each other in front of him, so the three of them just. Live together for a while. Along with Cleo's 15-year-old sister Arsinoe, who is also trying to kill Caesar and Cleopatra, and her other brother Ptolemy, who's 11 and just trying not to die.

Dinner that night is so horribly awkward that Arsinoe and her tutor yeet outta there and take over the Egyptian army

Caesar now has to Go To Work™️(War) every day and try not to get killed by a teenage girl and a schoolteacher

Said teenage girl is shockingly good at fighting and in one battle Caesar gets beat so bad he has to jump off a boat and swim to shore and loses his Favorite Red Cape

Caesar comes home that night looking like a wet rat and has to explain why the Library of Alexandria is on fire and stop Cleopatra and Ptolemy from trying to shank each other again

Forget the movie. I want a whole sitcom dedicated to the sheer absurdity of this situation.

Various bullcrap ensues, Caesar gets rescued by the son of Mithridates (THAT Mithridates) of all people, Cleo's brother-husband turns up dead and Arsinoe is captured, and Caesar takes a much-needed vacation with Cleo. For several months. Then strolls back into Italy to discover Rome is on fire, people thought he was dead, and oh yeah there's still a ROMAN CIVIL WAR going on

Oops

#this is why i love history #absolute Most Caesar Moment of all time #cleopatra is the only person who comes out of this looking even slightly good #don't worry she still kills arsinoe and ptolemy number two later tho <3 #cleopatra #julius caesar #ancient rome #roman history #siege of alexandria #just roman memes #jlrrt speaks #jlrrt essays

[areyougonnabe]

for the polar history recap posts, i’m dying to know more about lillie…deeply tragic and i’ve also heard something about the nickname ‘ooze’ and i desperately need to know more about that

LILLIE 😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

denis (also spelled dennis) gascoigne lillie was born in 1884, making him 26 when the terra nova set off for antarctica. he was trained in natural sciences at cambridge (although he didn't do too well on his exams) and was appointed as the ship's biologist—meaning he did not form part of the shore party in the hut in at cape evans, but remained on board the ship during the winter, studying antarctic marine biology including whales, plankton, and deep-sea creatures like sponges (like the one pictured above). his nickname "ooze" comes from his job as biologist—ooze refers to a specific kind of biological marine sediment that got pulled up in seabed dredges which lillie would then examine.

in silas's diary on the voyage south, he describes lillie:

Lilley—"Hercules'" or "Sequins" is rather a dreamer and asserts he can remember his former existences in this world. Much fun can be got from him if handled properly.

lillie was noted by other members of the expedition to be a bit of a crackpot, asserting that he was a persian and a roman in his past lives. and more than that, possibly:

Lillie had decided that he was not the marrying type, claiming that he had evolved beyond it. In later years Scott’s young Norwegian skiing expert Tryggve Gran recounted that as they crossed the Equator on the Terra Nova Lillie had revealed that he was a woman trapped in a man’s body. ‘When I see a naked man I blush,’ he allegedly said as the others sprawled shirtless on the deck in tropical sunshine, ‘I am split and I can’t help it. Luckily I understand myself and have the control to avoid doing anything wrong.’ Gran was a notoriously unreliable source, and it is hard to imagine anyone having the courage to say that under those circumstances; but perhaps Lillie did.

(from sara wheeler's cherry)

usually i would not recommend anyone trust anything that comes out of gran's mouth, but honestly i do buy this, because, well... vibes.

anyway, on the terra nova, lillie was notable for his talent at caricature, and several of his rather hilariously cruel drawings appeared (copied by wilson) in the south polar times, including this one of birdie:

while the shore party was in antarctica, lillie spent two winters in new zealand studying whales, fossils, and anthropology:

Lillie has been fossilizing & is off next month for 5 months whaling with the Norwegians. He is looking very well & very happy and is ‘a dear little chap’ to use Scott’s expression.

—pennell's diary, may 18 1911

after returning to england, taking the long way round on board the terra nova to continue his marine research, lillie took up residence at cambridge again, alongside deb, silas, priestley, and griff, to work up the scientific results from the expedition.

lillie also spent a lot of time with atch and pennell in 1913, frequently accompanying them to dine and see theater in london. he also drew (probably on board the ship) the caricature of them as the "antarctic lovebirds":

during the war, he was a conscientious objector—a "conchie," refusing to go to the front. it was an incredibly difficult position to maintain in the face of widespread societal opposition. he found solace in a continued and deepening relationship with cherry (who was also not at the front, though in his case for health reasons) as sara wheeler describes in her biography of cherry:

Currently working as a bacteriologist for the military, Lillie had been one of the few visitors at Lamer during the bad months in the middle of 1916. They became unusually intimate (‘I should love to see your chubby cheeks again’), and after one weekend Lillie scrawled with typical irreverence in his note of thanks that, ‘It was only my body which left you, for my ultimate Reality still walks behind your Bath chair and meditates about the many paths of your lovely garden. With love.’

and god i just need to copy these entire sections from the wheeler in here because they make me want to sob:

In September 1916 he had been transferred to the pathology lab of a military hospital in Bournemouth, which he loathed (‘no nice cliffs or sea birds, only sand banks and orange peel’), and was appalled to learn the next year that Cherry was poised to become engaged to Christine Davis (‘being unconventional and as near to nature as I can get, it seems all wrong to me that you should have to tie yourself up for the sake of Society’), but he strove, generally, to be optimistic, whereas Cherry was permanently resigned to his destiny. In August 1917 Lillie returned to Lamer for a week. Writing in advance with details of his train to Hatfield, he concluded that, ‘if a motor does not turn up the wings of joy will waft me those four-and-a-half miles bag included. So don’t worry.’ They had a wonderful time together. ‘I do hope,’ Lillie wrote when he was back in horrible Bournemouth, ‘your throat and the rest of you continues to get well and worthy of the sunny spirit which I see under the label ACG.'

though things seemed to be going as well as they could for lillie, shortly before the end of the war in early 1918, he suffered a nervous breakdown and landed in the notorious bethlem mental institution, known as bedlam. he was there for three years, and cherry was barred from visiting him.

he emerged for a short period of time in 1921, seemingly recovered, and took up lecturing in biology again at cambridge, but by the end of that year had relapsed and was institutionalized again.

frank debenham, writing to expedition agent j.j. kinsey in 1927 to solicit funding for SPRI, gave him an update:

Poor old Lillie is in less happy circumstances, the last I heard of him was that he was never likely to get out of Bedlam, a rather ghastly end up for poor old "Ooze's" brilliant promise.

lillie spent the rest of his life in institutions, and lived until the age of 78, dying in 1963. that was four years after the death of his friend cherry—who, despite constant attempts, was never allowed to visit him.

per UK law, lillie's medical records will be sealed until 2063, 100 years after his death, but a post on bethlem's official blog about lillie briefly notes that he was "depressed, delusional and suicidal."

the post also notes, importantly, that his breakdown had nothing whatsoever to do with his antarctic experiences:

The content of his medical notes suggests that the state of mind that brought him to hospital was entirely unrelated to his experiences of 1910-1913. Indeed, they report that “on the whole he felt better during this time”. 

OK, let's end on a nice note. here's a picture of him having a nice time at silas's wedding (i think) with his best friends. RIP lillie, i hope your next life is going well somewhere out there right now 🥲💓

(also another good writeup on lillie with some lovely art can be found on @worstjourney's patreon here!)

#denis lillie #terra nova #polar exploration #this marine biologist is TRANSGENDER !!!

[dedalvs]

Random question:

So a while back I read something where someone was talking about how if English spelling were reformed so every sound had a unique symbol that we’d lose the “visual alliteration” of Cape Cod.

I cannot figure out what that means. Are those /k/ sounds not both [k]? The only difference I’ve been able to notice is a feeling of the airstream moving outward in “Cape” and inward in “Cod”, but I can’t tell if that’s due to vowel influence or what.

Let's back up. The "someone" who was talking about this was either (a) wrong, (b) uncooperatively pedantic, or (c) imagining a very specific, non-alphabetic spelling reform of English (e.g. spelling English with logographic or syllabic glyphs).

Assuming (b), the only way that English spelling could be reformed such that the C's in Cape Cod would be different is if the spelling reforming was as sensitive as a narrow IPA transcription. If that was the case, then there are some transcriptions of English that would transcribe the first as [kʰʲ] and the second as [kʰ]. This level is detail is phonologically important for some languages. English is not one of these. A sensible spelling reform would spell those the same, whether C (because all instances of [k] become C) or K (because all instances of [k] become K). A nonsensical spelling reform would actually spell aspirated and unaspirated voiceless stops different, but even then, these two would be the same, as they're both aspirated.

The airstream is the same for both (egressive). What you're feeling, I expect, is the very slight movement in tongue position as the initial [k], which is palatalized, moves backward to an unpalatalized position. The reason you feel this is the tongue doesn't have to do anything in between the onset of the first word and the onset of the second. The tongue gets in position for [e], and in this position you can pronounce [k] well enough, then with [p], your tongue doesn't have to do anything; the lips take care of it. This means your tongue body can remain in place. For "Cod", it moves back as the tongue prepares to pronounce [ɑ] (or whatever back vowel you have there). Notice also that the tongue body has to go down, the tongue tip retracting slightly to pronounce [ɑ]. That's all part of it.

Now, assuming (c), yeah, that's indeed going to happen. Consider Japanese katakana. This is how "Cape Cod" is spelled: ケープコッド /keːpu koddo/. The relevant characters—the ones that begin each syllable—are ケ /ke/ and コ /ko/. And, yeah, they're different, so you do lose the visual alliteration. However, what you lose in visual similarity you gain in economy. To write /ka, ke, ki, ko, ku/ in an alphabet you need 6 different letter forms and 10 total glyphs. To write the same thing in katakana you need 5 different letter forms and 5 total glyphs. Consider an old style text message, which had a hard character count. A syllabary allows you to fit more letters in than an alphabet because each character encodes more information. When it comes to sheer character count, then, the Japanese writing system is much more efficient when it comes to writing Japanese than the English Romanization is.

Of course, that's for Japanese. For English it doesn't make as much sense because of our overabundance of consonant clusters. Typing lava in an alphabet takes 4 characters; in a syllabary, it takes 2. Typing straps, though, requires 6 characters in an alphabet and 5 in a syllabary. That doesn't save you a lot space—and a syllabary like Japanese's throws in extra vowels that have to be there, even if they're not pronounced, destroying its efficiency by, essentially, adding extra noise to the signal. Returning to straps, you have 6 characters, and all elements are vocalized. In katakana, you'd have to do ストラプス /sutorapusu/. You save a character with ラ /ra/, but then you have a whole bunch of vowels you have to remember not to pronounce.

Long story short, if you were going to reform the English spelling system, I don't think a syllabary (or even an abugida) makes sense, and a logography would be quite a thing to drop on the unsuspecting populace, even if it would be more equitable. This is why I guessed that what you overheard wasn't (c) and was likely (b).

Anyway, that's my 2¢. Hope it helps.

#language #linguistics #orthography #spelling #English #Japanese #syllabary #logography #alphabet #spelling reform

[graffic17]

My biggest pet peeve in Post-GM fics is when they have cults to Khepri. This due to one simple thing that all of these cults have; they're too damn organized.

Look into the history of any religion and you'll see it took them decades to solidify together into a central, unified belief. Making a holy book everyone will approve of? That also takes decades. Central features we now consider commonplace, such as the Catholic belief in Saints? That took decades as well - also it began due to the Roman oppression of Christians, starting as the Cult of Martyrs. Look it up if you ever have a chance, it's pretty interesting.

The exception to this is irl cults, like the Manson family or the Peoples Temple, but that's for a very simple reason. They're centralized around a singular authoritative figure for all of their existence that define every last feature of their belief structure which most religions lack - a feature shared by the Fallen and their leading families that the different sects are named for. Something that none of the Khepri cults in fics, which I've seen, ever have.

Obviously they don't need to follow how irl religious movements work, but doing so could add further dimensions to the fic's cult.

Simply having a central figure, or group, using Khepri as a figure to create a power structure with them at the head would be interesting (maybe even using one of the alternate spellings of Khepri as a cape name). Or having multiple capes, or even non-parahumans, with differing beliefs on Khepri (considering a true transcendent deity, a figure of true parahuman power worth aspiring towards, a monstrous example of the terrible power parahumans have over the normal people, the woman who sacrificed herself to save everything and is worth respecting, etc) could add so much to the concept.

I find the concept of cults to Khepri genuinely interesting and plausible (we've worshiped weirder things irl). I just wish I could enjoy them with my inner history nerd getting weirded out by the way they're written.

#worm #wormfic #wormblr #worm parahumans #parahumans #worm spoilers #gold morning #khepri #taylor hebert #writing talk #worm thoughts #graffic talks #again #I enjoy the concept #I just wish it was better done

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

Fulgrim's toga

Ok I need to share this with y'all.

So during the war council about the war on Laeran, we get this description:

"The primarch wore a long flowing toga of pale cream, and the dark iron hilt of his sword, Fireblade, was visible at his hip, the blade itself sheathed in a scabbard of gleaming purple leather. The flaring wings of an eagle were embroidered in gold thread across his chest and a slender band of lapis lazuli kept his silver hair from his face."

So far so good. For those keeping track, Fulgrim probably looks something like this:

But as the council is wrapping up, this happens:

"'Then the word is given, Captain Kaesoron,' said Fulgrim, casting off his robes to reveal his magnificently polished battle plate."

There's a lot to unpack here. First of all, the usage of the word "reveal" implies that his armor was completely hidden. A toga very notably leaves half the chest uncovered. So Fulgrim isn't just wearing his armor beneath his toga, he's wearing it beneath his tunic. And remember...power armor is full plate. It covers more than a classical tunic-toga combination. Let's fix that image:

But even this image isn't enough. As @lolipop1920 points out, this is what Fulgrim's armor looks like:

I don't have the art skills to edit this properly, so I want you to pause for a moment and try to picture how a toga-tunic combo would look draped on top of all that. You can leave off the cape.

Yeah.

And remember, the text says describes this moment as a REVEAL. Apparently Fulgrim walked into a room with a tunic/toga pulled on over his POWER ARMOR, and nobody noticed.

But it gets better! Fulgrim casts off the whole ensemble to reveal his power armor! Again, this is what a toga looks like!

So either he unwound his toga and then pulled his tunic over his head...OR he just ripped the whole thing off his body.

Normally at this point I'd say, "Graham McNeill just doesn't know how this garment works." But check out this bit from a little earlier in the book:

"First Captain Julius Kaesoron was a man not used to conflicting emotions, which made his current situation deeply uncomfortable. Dressed in the triumphal purple of his toga picta and the martial red of his lacerna clock, he cut an imposing figure as he marched swiftly to the Heliopolis...A pendant of fiery amber hung around his neck and nestled between the carved pectorals of his golden breastplate."

Someone's been doing their research! I'd argue that most Westerners have some idea of what a toga looks like, it's a pretty iconic garment, but the different varieties of togas? The Latin name for the cloaks/capes that the Romans wore? Hell no.

(Also note that Kaesoron is also somehow wearing a breastplate with his toga. A toga picta is just a purple-colored toga with gold embroidery. It involves just as much complicated drapery as a regular toga--possibly more, since it's a very formal garment. I guess he could wear the breastplate over his tunic and under the toga, but that still seems like a weird combo).

So yeah, McNeill definitely knows what a toga looks like, and he still wrote this scene. And of all people it's Fulgrim who pulls off this fashion atrocity! FULGRIM! The primarch most famous for his style, elegance, and class. The peacock of 30k. That's the guy who just walked into a room with a tunic and toga pulled on over his goddamn power armor. This is at the war council for Laeran! He hasn't even set foot on the snake orgy planet! You can't blame this on Slaanesh!

#warhammer 40k #fulgrim #fulgrim (the book) #seriously what the fuck

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I need to stop researching the early medieval period for fanfiction. The more I know, the more pissed off I get at BBC Merlin. (Mostly just BBC, this isn’t the first or only time they’ve decided to badly rewrite history)

What the fuck were those capes?! Where were the cobblestones?! Why did the stairs look like that?!

And I’m completely and adamantly ignoring the French caste.

It’s a beautiful building, and I can absolutely see why they used it, but I’m trying to figure out what years they existed so I can know how likely Arthur speaking Latin would’ve been and the absence of cobbles and geographically accurate stone is making that incredibly difficult.

Where is the Jet? What about the amber and fresh water pearls? Hell, I’d even take rubies and sapphires. Not native to England but imported by Romans so still technically historically accurate.

And that’s pretending that they even had a coherent timeline.

There were castles and roads and such in post Roman Britannia. Y’know, like the early medieval period.

That time period around the 6th century where Arthurian Legends would’ve happened. That bits fine.

But Albion existed before the Romans invaded.

At least 5 centuries earlier.

(Realistically, there wouldn’t have been magic or dragons, and if they were being accurate Merlin would’ve been Gaius’ age, but I’m ignoring that for the sake of the show)

Anyway, where and more importantly when is BBC Merlin set?

I’ll take a strong guess at 6th century(?) just because of the original legends.

In conclusion, fuck the BBC for making it this difficult to write period accurate fanfics. I’m just gonna start making shit up as I go since they clearly didn’t give a shit.

#I’m sleep deprived don’t expect this to be coherent #bbc merlin #merlin #i don’t know how to tag this #history #mini rant #history is gory as shit and I’m entirely fascinated #hyperfixation #arthurian legend #this blog is turning into an autistic person rambling about their special interest sooner than i expected. #i’m bad at tagging #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #I wanna look into the queer side of medieval history #if anyone knows a good place to start please let me know #merlin bbc

[yourlocalbreadenthusiast]

Hi. I exist.

Ello. I'm a Pinterest convert who happened to join at the same time as the great Reddit migration, so that's fun. Anyways, figured I'd make a post to give people some info about me.

I'm in a large number of fandoms, including (DEEP INHALE), SCP Foundation, Wanderer's Library, The Owl House, Gravity Falls, Amphibia, Generation Loss, Murder Drones, Marvel, Star Wars (Somewhat), FNAF, DnD, Wings of Fire, Percy Jackson universe, Grishaverse, The Dragon Prince, Nimona, The Hunger Games, and probably some other I forgot to mention.

I'm also a bit of a nerd and hyperfixiate on both fictional and nonfictional things, I know wayyyyy too much about things like Chernobyl and Plague Doctors. I also sometimes write as a hobby and am learning how to art, still kinda figuring it out though. Due to the writing thing, I know a lot of incredibly random facts that I shouldn't, as well as just random science stuff.

I like helping people, so don't be afraid to reach out with questions or concerns if you need help with something. If you want info on things, I'm more than happy to help. Here's some things I know a lot about:

The Black Death, Plague Doctors, Chernobyl, oddly specific horrific events in history, the fandoms I've listed above, the lowcountry region of USA (Southeastern coast, I live in South Carolina about 15 minutes from the beach) and the ecosystem of said area (Marshes, swamps, beaches, and our temperate forests), mythology (Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and some Norse), SCIENCE, and other things I'm probably forgetting.

Seriously gimme asks I wanna be a living encyclopedia.

For writing, I mainly like to do fantasy, some sci-fi, and a bit of horror. I'm far from consistent with when I write, you know how it is with motivation.

This IS a safe space blog for LGBTQIA+ people. I don't care if you're straight, gay, lesbian, bi, pan, omni, somewhere else on the spectrum, like asexuals, aromantics, and aroaces, or maybe you're enby, or maybe you're trans or genderfluid, or something else I forgot to mention. I do not care. You are all welcome here, my only DNIs are if you're going to be rude. One of my mottos is "I'll respect your opinion as long as your opinion doesn't disrespect anyone else's existence or rights."

I sorta use a persona for some areas of Tumblr, such as Wizardblr, so here's a reference for that:

Name: Dr. Corvius (Will respond to Doc, Doctor, and Crow), Official Title is "Corvius The Plagued."

Appearance: Dr. Corvius appears human at first glance when wearing full attire, but this is not the case. They are actually an avian, with feathers covering most of their body and rough, scaled skin similar to that of bird feet covering their hands, forearms, lower legs, and their feet. Their fingers have short claws on the ends, and their feet are structured like that of a crow. They don't wear shoes, as their feet are not well shaped to even wear them, and they frequently perch on branches and the like, which is far easier with their talons exposed. They do have wings, and usually will tuck these in under their mantle, giving the appearance of a feathered cape. They wear the outfit of a plague doctor, with a long black robe, mask, and other accessories, including a pouch of supplies. They also carry around a plague doctor stick, which doubles as an arcane focus. Under their plague doctor mask, they have an actual beak. (Essentially just take a Kenku from DnD and give it wings, and a plague doctor outfit.)

Abilities: They are a magic practitioner, specializing in necromancy, alchemy, chaos magic, and experimentation. She is also good with medicine, and despite not being licensed in any way, is incredibly good at healing people. Birds, specifically corvids, seem to follow them around, and will obey their commands. Their "flock" consists mostly of crows and ravens, but has a few magpies and rooks as well. This Flock is actually tied to her, so protection spells and immunities that she has extend to them. They can make noises like that of corvids, allowing for communication with their flock, and can also mimic sounds.

Behavior: They are generally a wise and intelligent person, taking the logical approach to things. They are kind, and are always willing to lend a helping hand.

Background: [ERROR: DATA LOST]

(The persona reference is a WIP im writing this late at night and I gotta go to sleep, I'll finish it later.)

(Contact me if you want an autopsy or reanimation done)

Ok byeeeeeeeee

Stealing these crows from this post

#informative #about me #hi hello #fandom #plague doctor #wizardblr #lgbtq safe space #lgbt safe space #safe space #lgbtqia+ #gimme asks #ADHD

[rosesandalfazemas]

Happy Birthday Portugal

Despite of the very fast art, hope you like it~ I made it with all my love. Happy Day portuguese friends!

As last year, I put them a lot of symbols, so I'll explain this mess a little bit:

In my headcanon, nations have several phases in important and formative points of their histories, so I chose the roman province (Lusitania) and the islamic Portugal, under the influence of Cordoba's Caliphate. The contrast of Faiths on him (The Pagan, The Islamic and the Catholic) is the point of the picture. That is why I divided Port in a trinity, too.

In the same idea, some phases are not humanoid; his primal form, before being the tribe of "Lusus", is a dragon; which is in the shield since then, and of course a sea dragon or a marine serpe, like a big spirit around himself. So yes, deep down he is a dragon~.

The appeareance of the central figure, on the other side, represents three mixed phases: The Templar, Age of Discoveries (The Navigator, as I call him), and the modern Portugal after WWs. No more an Empire, but with blue blood yet, with the pose of a king. Clothes are not historical accurate because they are a mix of several ages: Vasco Da Gama's style; some parts of templar armor (the arms and the sword, the cross in the chest); imperial green but at the same time with a touch of modern militar uniform; everything sharing flag's colors with the cape and the throne.

The little one is more savage and quiet, but protective, since that's the memory of Portugal about himself being Lusitania: only to protect his little brother of Rome. He's longer hair and simple cloth.

The provocative teenager is also a little bit pirate, because he has the old loved eye scar (which for me Port had it, but time erased it) and he stole the golden scimitar from his old tutor (aka Hassan, the older cousin of Ottoman), and killed him it 8D.

Also! lavender is not in a flower form this time, but in the color of the hat and the handcuff; with them, some cock feathers (black, red and green), part of the symbolic animal he has.

The compass, the most famous instrument for discoveries, is on the floor; but the sword points it with human blood. I think I don't need to explain why.

And of course, the coast (the floor) and the sea beyond; and the phrase of the country at his feet.

Thanks for reading!~

#hetalia #aph portugal #hws portugal #portugal hetalia #portugal anniversary #hetalia world series #historical hetalia #hetalia headcanons #hetalia fanart #aph #hws #rosas says #i couldn't miss marido bday #todo por el marido #lo hice a las apuradas en tres horas a la madrugada #espero me perdonen #rosas headcanons

[delimeful]

in sickness and in health (6)

warnings: remus-typical gore/nsfw mentions, injury mention, captivity, panic, logan mad scientist moments: mini edition, cliffhanger

-

The situation had spiraled out of control faster than Virgil’s self esteem mid-mental breakdown.

His mind kept replaying the last few moments, trying to find the choice that would have saved him. There were a hundred obvious answers, and ones that had been obvious even before he’d landed himself in his own worst case scenario.

He should have realized something was wrong with the stranger’s act before they’d gotten to the point of trying to stab each other. He should have been less harsh with the tackle, going by the wince-worthy crack of skull against marble. Most of all, he should have just cut his losses and ran the moment he’d realized the other borrower wasn’t even listening, but—

“You don’t get to take anything else from me,” he’d said, squinting against the light, each movement more stumble than step.

The guy was trying to protect Patton and his friends. He’d clearly had a run in with the Monoxide group before, had lost people to them before, and he’d still decided to confront Virgil.

Murder attempt or not, he couldn’t just leave the stranger there to get caught.

Now that he was squarely in the palm of a hand big enough to crush him in one motion, he was admittedly having some regrets.

“Woah there, Goth Thumbelina, no need to panic,” said Remus, hurriedly moving his other hand close to form a wall as Virgil attempted to duck away from the fingers curling over him. “A guy as small as you does not want to fall from this height, trust me. We’d turn the kitchen into a total splatter zone.”

And here Virgil had thought his heart couldn’t beat any faster. Life was always surprising him in the worst ways possible.

“Hello? Can you hear me, little guy?” Remus asked, lifting his hands to face level in a motion quick enough to shake what little balance Virgil had left. “You’re not dying of shock, are you? If I accidentally murder a fairy in Patty’s house, I’m pretty sure I’ll legally have to commit some kind of elaborate ritual suicide to atone.”

Well. His parents would probably be happy to know that he’d taken one last human down with him, at least.

Virgil drew all his limbs in until he felt more pillbug than person, his mind too full of mindless panicked shrieking for anything resembling a plan to form.

He couldn’t get away. He couldn’t fight the human off. He couldn’t even say anything, not unless he wanted to make this even worse for every other borrower in the world.

In the end, for all their malice and arrogance, a borrower from the Monoxide group was the same as any other borrower. There still wasn’t a single technique that would save them when they were in the clutches of a human.

All he could do was wait and see what the human decided to do with him.

… At the moment, Remus mostly seemed to be intent on poking him, over and over.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t kill us both in the world’s bizarrest murder-suicide! I haven’t even gotten to third base with a ghost yet!” The finger prodded lightly at the curve of his back again. “If we both die here, we’ll have to haunt this house together. Is that what you want? Because I will inevitably make it weird.”

Do not bite the human, Virgil reminded himself. Do not bite the human. That is a one-way ticket to getting thrown against a wall. Do not bite the human—

“Wow, you are way more polite than most of the small creatures I’ve held,” Remus noted enthusiastically. “On a completely unrelated note, are you venomous?”

Maybe one bite would be fine.

“Remus, if you’re cavorting with rodents in Pat’s kitchen, I swear—,” an annoyed grumble came from the entryway.

“Au contraire, less fair brother of mine,” Remus replied as he spun around to face his twin, “Any true rodent would have given me rabies twice over by now.”

Roman, who had a blanket cape draped over his shoulders and a cranky expression draped over his face, didn’t even glance down at Remus’s cupped hands. “Well, unless you’ve found a mouse-sized poltergeist, my beauty sleep—,”

“Huh.” Remus tilted his head, as though considering Virgil from a new angle. “Actually… maybe this is Patty’s mystery polterguest! Come look!”

He beckoned his twin over with a jerk of the head, and Roman’s suspicion deepened immediately. “Remus. If you are about to throw a cockroach at me, the repercussions will be severe and without mercy.”

“Heh,” Remus looked as if he was indulging in a fond memory. “Nah, I don’t want to ruin my intact-window streak by making you scream like an opera singer in a saw trap.”

Roman edged closer, eyes narrowed. “I still don’t see what kind of ghost would be that small—,”

“Tsk, tsk! Don’t judge a home invader by their size, RoBro!”

Virgil barely bit back a yelp as the human promptly stuck his cupped hands out, nearly knocking his kneeling form right back over. He ducked his head slightly, as though he could somehow prevent them from seeing what he was when he was literally being displayed at that very moment.

Roman’s eyes went wide as quarters as he peered down at him. “Holy Heracles. Is that a fairy?! Patton really is a Disney Princess!”

“That’s what I thought, too, but check it,” Remus nudged Virgil onto his side, revealing his back more clearly. “No wings, or even wing stumps. Plus, they live in the walls.”

Great, he’d noticed that. Still halfway to a panic attack, Virgil spared a pitying thought for all of borrowerkind.

“I feel like there was a Barbie movie that addressed the validity of wingless fairies,” Roman mused, before pausing to frown. “What do you mean, the walls? Tell me you didn’t try eating drywall again. This is not our house.”

“Nobody ever wants to try my fun sleepover activities,” Remus pouted, before rolling his eyes at Roman’s glare. “Don’t get your crown-patterned boxers in a twist, I caught them pre-wall entry.”

“‘Caught them’?” Roman echoed, glancing back down at Virgil, whose body had decided to start trembling hard enough to hopefully vibrate him right out of existence. “Oh my god, you traumatized the fairy. We are so gonna get cursed.”

“Awesome!” cheered Remus. “I hope it’s something with boils.”

“I am not re-enacting the Princess and the Frog as the more amphibious role!” Roman snapped, and lunged forward as though planning to snatch Virgil right out of Remus’s grasp.

Virgil had managed to keep his screaming internal thus far, but the strangled noise of terror that escaped him at the motion was entirely involuntary. Luckily, it was also probably high-pitched enough to bypass human hearing entirely.

“Woah!” Remus recoiled sharply, his hands cupping together to completely surround Virgil, like a child holding a firefly. “Do you even know how breakable itty-bitty creatures are? If I wanted to play tug of war with someone’s guts, I’d kidnap a politician!”

“If I shouldn’t be trusted with delicate creatures, you definitely shouldn’t be,” Roman shot back, though going by the distance of his muffled voice, he’d aborted his grabbing attempts. “Just put them down, they can’t even fly!”

The two of them exchanged some petulant, mostly-indistinct muttering, and then Remus shuffled to the side before placing his clasped hands down on something solid and slowly shifting them out from underneath Virgil.

Rather than fight the motion, Virgil pulled himself upright and let tension coil in every muscle, prepared to take off the instant he felt stable countertop under his feet again.

Sure, running hadn’t worked out for him the first time, but the first time, he’d been dragging the majority of a concussed stranger’s weight along with him. Seeing as Remus had barely caught him even with that handicap, he was more than willing to give fleeing for his life another shot.

His weight dropped onto a surface that was distinctly smoother and slicker than a kitchen counter, and his heart dropped along with it.

Sure enough, when Remus’s hands pulled back, he found himself standing at the bottom of a glass lemonade pitcher, no closer to escape than he’d been when a human hand had been the only thing between him and a fatal fall.

The twins were looming close enough to make his heart stutter, but they were also currently too preoccupied bickering with each other to pay their captive too much attention. Virgil backed up until his shoulders met glass, and slowly slid down into a sitting position, tucking his knees up against his chest.

He was never getting out of this.

–

“Janus,” Logan started, from where he was peering out the wallpaper doorway. “Haven’t we always agreed that we wouldn’t wish our humans on our worst enemy?”

“I don’t recall agreeing to that,” Janus countered halfheartedly, squinting past his near-blinding headache to follow Logan’s gaze. “Really, if you think about it, our worst enemies deserve to be faced with our least merciful weapons.”

In the kitchen, Remus cheerfully put his brother in a vicious headlock.

Also in the kitchen, the borrower Janus had totally and utterly screwed over flinched and flattened themself further against their glass prison.

Logan hummed in a way that did not make Janus feel like he was winning the argument. “And is this solitary borrower our worst enemy?”

“They could be,” Janus replied, indulging in as much of a sulk as his dignity would allow. “They have the mark, they knew what I was talking about. This could all be part of a long con.”

“A long con,” Logan echoed, “to get captured by humans.”

Humans that could have easily caught Janus instead, he pointedly didn’t say.

Janus felt the phantom pressure of a pair of hands shoving him to safety at the last moment, and nausea bubbled up in his throat. He felt fairly certain that it was only partially because of the alleged concussion Logan insisted he absolutely did have. “Anything’s possible.”

Logan turned from the nightmare scene in the kitchen to give Janus the look that comment deserved. “There were no passages to window box gardens or stores of harvested poisons in their home. All of the equipment I found was intended for borrowing, not assassination. There’s only signs of a single borrower residing here, when Monoxide members favor traveling in pairs or trios.”

Janus hissed under his breath. “We can’t just dismiss the possibility that they’re an outlier. A really strange, ineffective, idiotic outlier.”

“Perhaps, but looking at the current evidence offers us a far more plausible conclusion,” Logan said, and then paused, taking in Janus’s grim, hunched-over posture. “... Of course, we can’t truly confirm any theories without investigating our suspect further.”

“Our humans seem entirely too willing to interrogate them for us,” Janus replied bitterly.

Logan turned away from the doorway, dragging his oversized pack in front of him and rummaging through one of the side pockets. “In my experience, our humans have also been very susceptible to distraction.”

Janus perked up, recognizing something familiar in Logan’s tone. That was the tone that preceded a scheme risky enough to make typical borrowers faint just thinking about it.

“Of course,” Logan continued, pulling what looked like miniature explosive prototypes out of his bag, “a distraction loud and flashy enough to divert the twins would only worsen your concussion. I, however, am not concussed.” He paused to give one of the prototypes a dubious glance. “Yet.”

Janus leaned forward to try and inspect one of the devices, and received an armful of coiled thread and a meaningful look from Logan instead.

“Oh, sure,” he complained. “Leave the guy with the head injury with the job of convincing the stranger he tried to stab to participate in the rescue attempt, that makes perfect sense.”

“I have utmost faith in your persuasive abilities,” Logan said in that deadpan way that always made Janus doubt his claim to not understand sarcasm. “Be ready to move as soon as the twins are lured away; I haven't tested the new formula and I’m not sure how long they’ll burn.”

With that extremely concerning statement, the borrower tucked a pair of matches under his armpit, turned, and vanished around the nearest corner.

Janus pulled the thick loop of thread over one shoulder, crouched by the kitchen entrance, and waited.

To Logan’s credit, he worked fast. A series of crackling pops went off, distant but distinct, and their humans only exchanged the briefest of glances before haring off in an unspoken competition to get to the mysterious noises first. Truly, they were predictable in the most amusing ways.

Running had proven to be highly disorienting, so Janus speed walked across the counter to where the borrower’s prison sat. Undignified, but effective.

It hardly mattered; the stranger had crossed the width of the pitcher to peer after the twins and thus was facing the entirely wrong direction to notice Janus’s approach.

They did notice the weighted end of the thread clunk onto the glass behind them, going by how high they jumped and their vehement, half-wheezed swear. They glanced between him and the rope several times in bewilderment.

Janus waggled his fingers in an obnoxious little wave, just because he could. “Any day now. Unless you prefer your current accommodations, I suppose.”

“You’re… helping me?” they asked, with far more dubiousness than Janus felt was warranted. He hadn’t even managed to actually stab them.

“Do you really have the luxury of suspicion right now?” he asked back, shaking the rope for emphasis.

That seemed to snap them out of it. In the next moment, they were wrapping the end of the rope around their wrist and planting their feet on the glass wall, hauling themself up with impressive speed.

Janus leaned back, planting himself as a firmer counterbalance, and then paused.

He could still hear the muted bangs of borrower-sized chemical warfare going on in the other room, but that was it. For a space inhabited by both twins at the same time, there was a suspicious lack of shouting.

Unless…

A chill ran up his spine, and he resisted the urge to yank pointlessly on his end of the rope. “Hurry.”

“I’m trying,” the stranger bit back, grunting as they got a grip on the edge of the pitcher and pulled themself up. They lifted their head and froze in place, all the blood draining from their face.

Janus knew what he'd see before he even turned his head. 

“I knew it,” Roman crowed from where he stood in the kitchen doorway, “you do talk!”

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #ts virgil #ts remus #ts roman #ts janus #ts logan #in sickness and in health #isaih #my writing #writing

[transhawks]

I know you call AFO's garbage bag rags, but it really reminds me of when you posted about AFO's greek god vibes with the long flowing white robes and stuff. Alternatively, maybe people were nicer in offering clothes to Yoichi.

Sorry for taking so long in getting back to you. So, I truly think it's both - I can't help but think of a little pint-sized demigod when I see baby!AFO but at the same times, aside from the power he holds, he's born into such poor material conditions. I think it's very in-line that he's presented with both clothing that resembles a power fantasy (and AFO is all about power fantasies) and also starkly reminds us where he is from and what he's surviving. In contrast, I think Yoichi got regular clothing. He was clothed. I think it's fair to say that the next chapter kind of confirmed this sort of dynamic:

Again, we can squabble over "AFO treats his precious posessions well and thus Yoichi was clothed better than AFO" and whether that knowingly came at the cost of AFO's own clothes. I think the truth is somewhere in between, where Yoichi needed more care than AFO and AFO himself probably also liked the idea of building clothing out of rags/other materials than succumbing to normalcy. Again, it's about the power fantasy. We don't have characters who wear suits often. If we see the suit as a symbol of (Western) respectability, of power, of upholding old structures much like the penance to Greco-Roman aesthetics, it becomes clear that it's very personal for AFO to project a certain vibe. I mean, the first time we see Kid!AFO he's turned it into a cape! It reminds me a lot of the make-believe dress up play children indulge in. So, with that in mind, I think it says a lot about what the twins differ in "wanting". Yoichi is clothed well, and appropiately, and normally. AFO chooses clothing for himself (early on) that is more outlandish, more grandiose in design (a toga, a cape) than you would expect for a little boy, but he's a little boy who wants more.

I hope this answers what I think might be the idea behind the costumes!

#asks #all for one #one for all #yoichi shigaraki

[tall-waves-deep-sea]

Fern's introduction to: Nehalennia

Nehalennia is a Goddess associated with sea-trade, prosperity, the harvest, and the North Sea. She is also a psychopomp. She was revered in Zeeland in the Netherlands, near the Rhine in Germany, and in England. We are not sure if Nehalennia was Germanic, Celtic, or Roman. The name points towards Roman, but she was likely a local Goddess that was given a Romanized name.

We know Nehalennia due to altar stones that have been found near Colijnsplaat, Zeeland. Symbols often found on the stones are dogs (symbols of the underworld), baskets of apples, pears, and bread (harvest and prosperity), a ship's wheel or ship's bow, a shell shaped ceiling, and a distinct short cape that Nehalennia wears on all her stones. She is also often depicted in the same style as the Germanic Matronae, or Mothers, and in some stones from Trier in the same triad as the Matronae. For this reason she is also thought of as a Mothergoddess.

The stones were dedicated by seafaring tradespeople as payment for a safe passage, often to England. They sold fish sauce, salt, and wine. The first set of stones were discovered in 1645 when a hug storm eroded part of the coast. There were no museums or historical societies back then, so the stones were displayed in a church. Tucked into the back, they were underneath a leaky roof and covered in moss. A few years later, the church was struck by lightning and burned down, and the stones were lost. Luckily sketches and drawings of the stones were still preserved.

Then, on the 14th of March in 1970 a fisherman found a strange stone in his fishing nets. Instead of throwing it back, he called the historical society in Leyden, and started fishing for more stones. Together over the course of a few months they found over 150 votive stones and fragments, all dedicated to Nehalennia. This is when she emerged again from both the see and from obscurity, and why I celebrate Nehalennia Resurfacing on this date.

Fragments found of the temple itself indicate that there were probably fresh water wells, where the boats could get the drinking water they needed for their journey over the North Sea. A replica of the temple (smaller and without wells) is open to the public on Colijnsplaat.

As stated Nehalennia is a Goddess of trade over sea, of the harvest and prosperity, and she is a psychopomp, bringing the souls of the departed to the Otherworld.

Because of her realm of sea travel I associate with her: lighthouses, storms, the stars (navigation), shells, grey pearls and moonstone, sailing and boating, protection, selkies, merfolk, knotmagic, sea magic.

Because of her realm of harvest I associate with her: apples, baskets and cornucopias, wheat and grain, bread, nature, fields, growth, prosperity both physical and spiritual, bonfires, harvest festivals, fertility.

Because of her role as a psychopomp I associate with her: dogs, the cycle of death and life (see also, harvest), a safe voyage to a land over the sea (for example, Avalon), traveling through the realms, protection.

I see Nehalennia as the Wildmother, (a name I had for her before Critical Role). She is the Goddess of land and sea, of abundance and life. She is a warm and loving parent that protects, but does let you figure things out for yourself. She is a deep tie to my land and the people who have lived here before. Hail the Lady of the North Sea, Nehalennia Hail!

My devotional blogs: Nehalennia, Baduhenna, Cernunnos, Elen of the Ways, the rest of my personal pantheon. Find me on my main, my witchblog, my website, and my pinterest.

#Posting this updated version on Nehalennia Resurfacing #nehalennia #dutch pagan #germanic pagan #pagan #paganblr #paganism #goddess #dutch #germanic #roman #celtic #sea witch #sea goddess

[echoing--stars]

Trick or treat~

TREAT!

Legend had a change of heart and a change of plans.

"Din damn it!" Legend glared at his phone. He was just about to leave for Time's party when Sky texted him the picture. Of Warriors and his new boyfriend's outfits (along with copious heart eye emojis). Of course Warriors had gone all out. And of course they were wearing complimentary costumes. He yanked the head band with the bunny ears off his head, the ones Ravio had forced him into. "You have to dress up!" He did theater, he dressed up all the time. Sue him for wanting a break. Legend threw the headband onto his desk and yanked open the closet door. There wasn't much he could do about a couple's costume because no matter what anyone thought, he and Ravio were not dating. But he could still throw something together. He considered doing a vampire. Sure, it was generic but he could pull it off quickly. But no, that couldn't compare to Warriors' Roman whatever he was. Maybe a… "Rav, where's my cape?" "What?" Ravio's voice was muffled, coming from his room on the other end of the hall. "Where. Is. My. Cape?" There was a shuffling noise as Ravio's bedroom door opened. He smiled sheepishly as he poked his head in the door.  "I may have… borrowed it." Legend sighed and rubbed his forehead. He looked back at the closet, glancing through his options. His eyes caught on something shiny and sequined. An outfit he hadn't worn since one of his first productions in college for the student run theatre troupe. He grinned. "I need twenty minutes and the body glitter." Ravio didn't respond for a moment, but then he nodded enthusiastically. "I'll grab it." Legend was going to be the hottest Farore damned cheerleader the town has ever seen. (Ravio was not impressed by the football helmet Legend shoved on him — it did not work with his costume — but he was happy to see Legend so excited. Even if the grump insisted it was only to one up his friend.)

#Paloma!! #worm writes #linked universe #lu fanfic #lu legend #lu ravio

[skeletinmoss]

OH MY GOODNESS MOTHMAN VIRGIL HELLO HE LOOKS SO LOVELY I LOVE HIS COLORS AND OOOOH I NEED A BLANKET OR CAPE JUST LIKE THAT

Siren Roman / Mermaid Roman

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #prinxiety #sanders project au

[octuscle]

Roman holiday

Max had been given a tour of Germany by his German-born grandmother as a graduation present. He flew to Frankfurt and was to travel from there through the Rhine Valley to Cologne. From there it went on to Hamburg, Berlin, Dresden and to Munich. At the end, a week of skiing in the Austrian Alps was planned.

Max liked the first stop, Frankfurt, very much. Thanks to the generosity of his grandmother, he stayed in an excellent hotel. And after the first evening, he had made friends with the handsome bartender. Max had once been quite athletic, but during his studies, sports had suffered. So it did him good to be able to flirt despite his belly.

Two days before leaving for Cologne, Max went over his travel plans again at the bar. He barely understood a word of German, and he didn't really understand the confirmation of the hotel located directly on the Rhine. He held out his cell phone to the bartender and asked if he could explain to him what was in the booking confirmation and, above all, why the nights were so insanely expensive. Max was paying more than double what he usually had to pay on his tour of Germany. "Guy, are you seriously asking me that?" the bartender replied. "I thought you were going to Cologne specifically for Carnival. Very different from New Orleans or Rio, but the biggest party Germany. And your hotel booking includes admission to one of the hottest costume balls." The bartender pulled out his cell phone and showed Max a few photos from his last trip to Cologne Carnival. "I'm really jealous. There are some really hot lads in town that weekend. You're going to have your fun. Do you have a costume yet?" Max replied in the negative and the bartender played with his cell phone a bit. "Here, what do you think of this? Roman Legionnaire. Cologne is a Roman foundation, so that fits. And you'll look hot in that costume!".

The price was really reasonable, Max accepted and the bartender ordered directly with delivery to Max's Cologne hotel.

When Max arrived at his Cologne hotel on Saturday afternoon, there was already a party atmosphere. The foyer was decorated and hardly a guest was walking around without a costume. Max checked in and was informed that his package was already in his room and that the costume ball would start at 7:11 pm. "Strange time," Max thought to himself. But this was a weird town, too. Max moved into his room, unpacked his suitcase and then opened the package. Shit, that wasn't the costume he ordered. This one looked more elaborate. But it also showed much more skin. Too much skin for Max's taste. Max tried to combine the costume with a t-shirt, but that looked even goofier. Well, thanks to the helmet, no one would be able to recognize him. And he wouldn't be at the party for long anyway.

At 7:30 p.m. Max put on the cape and headed for the elevator. In the hotel hallway, he was met by several other guests in a party mood. Almost everyone stared at him or turned to look at him. In front of the elevator, the stares of the other guests made him almost uncomfortable. Then the elevator doors opened. And Max stared at his reflection. He was no longer Max. He was Maximus!

What a party…! It was 02:00 in the morning and Max needed a cigarette. His transformation had been complete for a long time. He had gained several more pounds of muscle. And his costume had also changed. Instead of plastic, it was now made of high-quality leather. And his cape was no longer made of polyester but of a heavy loden fabric. Max stepped in front of the hotel, where hundreds of people were smoking and drinking. He took off his heavy metal helmet and asked the muscular Viking next to him if he could have a cigarette. "A kiss first, Centurion," was the reply. The crowd roared as Roman and barbarian stuck their tongues deep down each other's throats. Carnival had just begun. And promised to be a lot more fun.

@axeegliter, always a pleasure to accept your challenges!

#male tf #muscle tf #tf challenge