Kill Six Billion Demons is such an interesting story. It's a western comic that's very heavily based in Buddhist/Hindu mythology, and the villains are mostly based off of Christian mythology. It's narrative is about the strength of people and community to overcome evil, with interesting things to say about power and freedom. There's a magical girl gender transition. A main character writes Yuri fanfiction about the protagonist. There's a Dragonball style Fusion of several main characters. The strongest fighters in the universe are women. It's an allegory for capitalism. It's a tragedy about the lust for power corrupting rightous intentions. It has some of the most beautiful art I've ever seen. It has a supporting character named Princess Mamoru Moonshine Jagermeister Jack Jack Daniels Timothy Tim Bill Freddy Mercury Blueberry Luna, Esquire.
fic snippet starring my Telvanni “mage”, Morvyna as she meets her god.
A strange sensation gripped Morvyna. It was as if a spectral hand held onto her shoulder, but from the inside. She looked behind her, as if it could have possibly had a corporeal cause; of course, there was nothing there.
Another hand gripped her other shoulder. They were a dark presence, and Morvyna could feel something horrible and evil leaking from the hands into her body. And yet, she was oddly certain they were not malicious. No, this felt like a loving touch. An incorporeal hug from a…
Fuck.
Morvyna crossed her arms over her chest. Azura’s Coast was temperate and comfortable during the day, but this time of night there was a bit of a chill that Master Naris’s overly-large silk robe couldn’t stave off. Nor could it stave off her irritation at whichever fucking useless god decided to interrupt her evening. “Oh, fuck off. I don’t care who you are—I’m not going to worship you. I’m done with that shit.”
A gravelly male voice responded, seeming to come from inside her own head. It felt like it rattled around in there beside her brain. “My followers do not worship. I would not see you groveling and praying… but you will learn well my ways.”
She laughed; it came out like a sharp bark. “You’re awfully confident in that.”
“I see what you’re becoming. This path you’re on, it leads to me.” The voice started to shift towards something more feminine-sounding, yet remained just as raspy. “Don’t deny the rush you felt when Naris fell to your hands. When he looked into your eyes and knew that it was you who would be his downfall. The master wizard, the oppressor, slain by his own slave. Or, perhaps, try to tell me it doesn’t excite you to imagine sitting on the Telvanni council. Mistress Morvyna—no, better yet, Archmagister. And you would never again be one who serves. Your destiny, your dignity, in your own hands. Ambition burns hot in you, Morvyna—you cannot avoid me without denying your very nature.”
She was starting to get the feeling she knew who this was. Boethiah. He painted a nice picture, sure. But pretty words weren’t worth much to her. “Are you going to offer me something or just beat around the bush?”
The invisible spectral hand—or whatever appendage it was—seemed to stroke her cheek. Tenderly, even. Like a mother comforting her child, though Morvyna could scarcely remember what exactly that felt like. “What’s in it for me, you say? Oh, I like you,” the voice purred. Morvyna had never seen Boethiah depicted as a woman, but he was sticking to the womanly voice. Devious. She couldn’t resist a woman whispering such seductive words into her ear. It set her thighs ablaze; stupid hormones betraying her logical mind. “You want power? The path is for you to follow, but I can light the way.”
Once one caught a daedric prince’s attention, it wasn’t an easy thing to simply escape the conversation. Might as well get comfortable. Morvyna heaved her gaunt frame up onto the nearest rock and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. The rock’s surface was slightly tacky from the salty coastal air. “I can find my own way.”
“Don’t dismiss me out of hand. Veloth was my chosen. His power echoes through this land to this day. Are your people not called the Velothi? Were cities not built in his name, in his honor?”
Well. When he put it like that, the offer grew more tempting. “Okay. So that’s the carrot. Where’s the stick?”
Boethiah laughed. Giggled, almost. It sent a shiver through Morvyna. Fear, not arousal, this time. “There is no stick. Your ambition strengthens me—allow me to fuel it,” he purred. The womanly voice grew clearer, less raspy. Still alluring, even when he spoke with a little more venom: “The Telvanni have hurt you. It’s time to make them bow to you. Use this as you will.”
Just like that, the presence evaporated, and Morvyna was left with only the sea for company. Suddenly she felt a little silly, a lone old woman bitching at thin air out in the middle of nowhere. But he had left proof. Proof she wasn’t losing all of her marbles: When the daedra vanished, so too had a dagger appeared in front of where she sat on the rock. She picked it up. An elegantly carved blade of solid ebony, inlaid with intricate gold detailing. It was lighter in her hand than she would have expected of ebony.
“What am I meant to do with this?” she murmured to herself, flipping the blade over in the palm of her hand. He had kept mentioning the Telvanni. Becoming Archmagister. She’d been of a mind to put as much distance between her and the great house as possible, now that she’d won her freedom. I’m not even much of a mage, she thought.
But then, wouldn’t the sweetest revenge be taking control? It wasn’t just Naris who was responsible for her suffering, after all, it was the whole damn establishment: House Telvanni was built on abject cruelty towards its slaves, test subjects, and apprentices. Morrowind as a whole wasn’t much better.
Less a burden, less an omen, and more of a means to power. She was reminded, oddly, of the 36 Lessons and the prophecy writ on Nerevar’s palms. Vivec’s foolish book would never leave her thoughts, it seemed, not entirely. The hand of change, or something like that—her Ehlnofex was self-taught and rather shit, but the phrase persisted in her mind as she looked over the glossy weapon again.
Boethiah was no longer present, but her mind helpfully supplied a response in the daedra’s ever-seductive voice: You know what to do with it.
driving anxiety is so cool because I drove almost four hours yesterday and my muscles are so sore from being tensed up that it feels like I did a really tough workout 😖😖😖 I can barely move my shoulders
I need to start actually writing something of substance about Kevyn, my boy would do numbers on tumblr and I certainly have enough of his dick jokes and erotic poetry on standby to make it hapen
in my dnd setting the most eldritch of creatures is an ape that is impossibly wide. Whatever room you're in, this ape is wider than that. Imagine the widest room you can imagine. This ape is wider. It's other proportions remain the same. His name is Wide Ape.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
New fic! Snapshots of the early life of an aspiring buoyant armiger, who is accidentally immortalized by Vivec. also contains quick bursts of heavy violence.
with Almalexia I was able to cobble her shrine art and in game outfit together to make a cosplay that showed less skin I will be more comfortable wearing once it’s done. But I haven’t been able to manage that with Vivec and they’re the one I REALLy wish to cosplay. I am not good with the outfit design and Vivec is not good at wearing clothes
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
snowghoul
