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@thenextbigauthor
You cannot believe your eyes. "…D-Dad?!" The man who vanished from your life sixteen years ago, the man who just spontaneously popped into existence in your kitchen clutching, of all things a large crate of milk and a glowing sword, stares at you nervously. "OK, first of all, I can explain…
You are a shapeshifter who has secretly taken on many fake villain personas across the world. Your goal is to fight each hero you meet with a persona that embodies said hero’s worst traits, forcing them to change for the better in order to defeat you.
Fact: The earliest reliably dated use of the phrase “fucked up” appears in the court records of a US Navy court-martial case from 1863; the way the phrase is used suggests that its meaning was already well known at the time, but this is the first known printed record of it that we can confidently put a date to.
Additional fact: Bram Stoker’s Dracula is set in 1897.
Conclusion: It would not anachronistic for your Dracula fanfic to have a character describe the Count as a fucked up old man.
official linguistics post
Hey anybody going to talk about rescued sacrificial maidens. Like yes a guy with a fuck off sword turned up and so you're not getting fed to the dragon/water creature/mountain spirit/vague embodiment of all things scary and you get to go back home, but is that really home? Your mom hugs you and your dad says he's so happy you're alive and you know that when they said they'll do anything to keep you safe they didn't really mean it. They have a feast prepared and you get to taste what they cooked for your funeral, help wash the dishes after. And it's selfish to think that between the whole village with everyone in it and you they wouldn't pick the lesser evil but it still leaves an emptiness in your chest, knowing exactly how much your life is worth. And the neighbors smile at you awkwardly and the neighbors' kids yell "hey! I thought you died!" because they don't know not to do that yet and maybe you did. Maybe you did.
And the hero with the fuck-off sword rode off into the sunset the way they always do but you're still here and you herd the cows by the cliff where you were tied up in your cleanest clothes waiting to not be alive anymore and sometimes you think that would be easier and when you don't come back one day, you can imagine it's a relief for everyone involved. Maybe you'll be the new thing to haunt the mountain, or maybe you'll follow down the road and listen for cries that sound like yours did. Either way, there's little left to fear. You know exactly how much your life is worth.
Random worldbuilding: A culture where everyone's social status is expressed through how their hair is braided.
Children all have the same kind of a simple, unisex "child's braid" which is meant for their parents to be easy to do - traditionally boys were only taught how to do a "wife's braid" while women braid both their husbands and their children, but a modern man is naturally an attentive father and contributes to both cleaning and feeding, and clothing and braiding his children.
While this kind of knowledge is more accessible in the modern age, the art of braiding is still seen as an intimate family thing, and it's not unusual for a youth to come out to their parents by the way of braids - for example a daughter asking her father to teach her how to do the "wife's braid", or a son asking her mother how to weave the "husband braid" for their future spouse. Or a trans kid asking their parents to give them the other gender's braid when it's time to transition from the child braid into the "unmarried youth" one.
It is nonetheless still somewhat common to see an older gay man with a "wife's braid" or two older women both wearing "husband braids", because that was the only way they were taught to braid a future partner's hair when they were young. They could learn the "appropriate" braid now, but it has become a part of the culture, an old-fashioned gay thing to do. It's pride - if you wear this braid to show that you're an adult with a spouse, why try to hide who braids your hair every morning?
The only braid that one is expected to do on themselves is the widow's braid - the only one that is also unisex, braided in reverse from the simple children's braid. Sometimes, young unmarried adults who have no interest in starting a family switch directly into wearing a widow's braid to signify that they are not looking for a partner and are independent adults on their own.
All throughout childhood, while my peers were socializing and making friends, I studied the blade read so many books that I am now almost legally blind, which left me with vast and deeply instinctual understanding of English grammar - and next to no ability to explain how it actually works. Friends will often ask me to proofread their writing and then get very mad when I say things like, "You need to completely reverse this sentence and cut this clause entirely; no, I'm sorry, i don't know why, I just know that the way it is now ITCHES 😭"
Now, what I want to see is a fantasy story where this plays out with MAGICAL grammar. Someone from a backwater town deeply steeped in folk magic arrives at Wizard Uni where all their fellow students are like "What do you mean, we should add another '𝞯∘⋇𝞿' to the incancation because it 'sounds better'? What do you mean, 'it could just be a regional thing'?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'THIS SPELL JUST FEELS LIKE IT NEEDS A LIVE RAT'????"
Neil Gaimain about writing Good Omens with Terry Pratchett (x)
Neil: His line to me when we were writing “Good Omens”, he would phone me up and he’d say, I’ve just done this and it’s made it 17% funnier. I’d written this whole meeting between the International Express man and Pollution and I’d mentioned that, you know, ‘he and his wife went down there sometimes when they were courting to spoon’ and Terry added the line, ‘and on one memorable occason, fork.’
Rob: On one memorable occasion.
Neil: On one memorable occasion, and it‘s made it 17% better. In fact, in that case it may have made it 100% better.
tweet
Something like this would be so colossally helpful. I'm sick and tired of trying to research specific clothing from any given culture and being met with either racist stereotypical costumes worn by yt people or ai generated garbage nonsense, and trying to be hyper specific with searches yields fuck all. Like I generally just cannot trust the legitimacy of most search results at this point. It's extremely frustrating. If there are good resources for this then they're buried deep under all the other bullshit, and idk where to start looking.
>:)c
May I present to you, nationalclothing.org?
It doesn't have everything, but it's still my first source when researching traditional clothing from other cultures.
There's also this resource on historical fashion: Claire’s Historical Fashion Reference & Resources
another addition as far as physical media goes there is the encyclopedia of national dress (that i still need to buy myself bc this kind of thing is super important to my sort of fantasy designing) but yes i do agree i wish there was EVEN MORE documentation on this
here are some resources for Indian clothing archives:
The Sari Series: a digital anthology documenting India's regional saree drapes though short films
Purushu Arie's blog; started when he was studying at NIFT, the blogger has gone on to become a leader in the neo-traditional fashion scene in India.
if anyone knows more please add links !
Xylara's gentle voice broke the silence of the throne room. "Zor-Vath, would you take a walk with me through the royal gardens? The blooming florapetalis are a sight to behold this time of year."
Zor-Vath's eyes softened, and he nodded, offering his arm. As they strolled through the vibrant gardens, the sweet scent of the florapetalis filled the air, and the soft chirping of the skywhispers accompanied their footsteps.
As they walked, Zor-Vath's curiosity got the better of him. "Xylara, may I ask... why didn't you kill me when you won that chess game? You had every right to."
Xylara's gaze drifted to the intricate patterns on the path beneath their feet. "There was just something about you, Zor-Vath. A spark in your eyes, a glimmer of good beneath the surface. I sensed that you were not beyond redemption, and I wanted to give you a chance to prove me right."
Zor-Vath's eyes locked onto hers, his voice filled with emotion. "You saw something in me that I didn't even see in myself. You gave me a chance to be more, to be better. I will always be grateful for that, my love."
Xylara's smile was radiant, and she leaned into his side, their bond strengthened by the beauty of the gardens and the power of their love.
Zor-Vath's face darkened as he received the message, his eyes scanning the parchment with a growing sense of unease. "Ra-Zisi... held hostage?" he muttered, his voice tight with concern.
Xylara's hand instinctively went to his arm, her eyes filled with worry. "What is it, my love?"
Zor-Vath's jaw clenched. "The elders of Kra-el. They demand my presence, threatening to harm my sister if I do not comply."
Xylara's grip tightened. "We will not let them harm her, Zor-Vath. We will find a way to free her, together."
Zor-Vath's eyes flashed with determination. "I will not be swayed by their threats. I will go to Kra-el, but not alone. I will take our united armies, and we will show the elders the strength of our unity."
Xylara's face set in a fierce expression. "We will not let them use Ra-Zisi against us. We will rescue her, and we will bring the elders to justice for their treachery."
Together, they shared a resolute glance, their bond and determination forged in the fire of adversity, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
"In a world where memories can be transferred from one mind to another, teen twins, Diana and Donatello, discover a hidden archive of forgotten memories. As they delve deeper into the archive, they uncover secrets about their own past, their family history, and the true nature of their world. But with each new revelation, they realize that some memories are better left forgotten. Can they navigate the blurred lines between truth and deception, or will the weight of their newfound knowledge tear them apart?"
This book explores themes of memory, identity, and the power of knowledge.
The archive keeper and Donatello just might have a thing going too...
Xylara's labored breathing filled the chamber, her blue skin glistening with a soft sheen of sweat. Zor-Vath held her hand, his eyes locked on hers, as Laeoia and the other healers tended to her.
With a final push, a tiny cry filled the air, and Laeoi lifted the newborn into the light. Xylara's exhausted gaze met Zor-Vath's, and they shared a radiant smile.
"Meet our Elyria," Laeoi said, presenting the baby to her parents.
Elyria's small form glowed with a soft, ethereal light, her tiny features a perfect blend of her parents' characteristics. Her skin shimmered with a pale, iridescent hue, and her hair was a wild tangle of white locks.
Zor-Vath's voice trembled with emotion as he whispered, "She is a star come to earth, our little Elyria."
Xylara's arms opened, and Laeoi gently placed the baby in her embrace. As Elyria nuzzled her mother's chest, the elemental forces responded, filling the room with a warm, golden light.
The new family of three basked in the glow, their love and unity a beacon of hope for the united realms of Aethereia and Kra-el. In this moment, they knew that Elyria would grow to be a powerful symbol of their love and a shining example of the wonders that could be achieved through unity and determination.
Xylara lay on the plush, silk-draped bed, her belly swollen with their growing child. Zor-Vath sat beside her, gently stroking her hair as the royal healer, Laeoi, examined her.
Laeoi's eyes sparkled with a knowing glint as she turned to the couple. "Your Majesties, I have wonderful news! The elemental forces have revealed to me that your child... is a girl!"
Xylara's face lit up with joy, and Zor-Vath's eyes shone with tears. "A daughter," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder.
Xylara's hands cradled her belly, and she felt an overwhelming surge of love for their unborn child. "We will name her Elyria, after the dawn's first light," she said, her voice filled with emotion.
Zor-Vath nodded, his face beaming with pride. "Elyria, the symbol of hope and unity for our realms. Our daughter will grow up to be a powerful force for good, just like her mother."
Laeoi smiled, her hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. "The elements have already begun to bless Elyria with gifts. She will wield the power of the earth and the skies, and her heart will be filled with the love and unity of her parents."
As Laeoi finished speaking, a gentle breeze rustled the curtains, and a soft, golden light enveloped Xylara's belly, as if the elements themselves were celebrating the news. Zor-Vath and Xylara exchanged a loving glance, their hearts overflowing with joy and anticipation for the arrival of their precious Elyria.
Xylara's hands trembled as she held the small, delicate pouch containing the pregnancy scroll. She had waited for what felt like an eternity to share this news with Zor-Vath, fearing another heartbreak. Taking a deep breath, she approached her husband, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Zor-Vath... I need to tell you something."
Zor-Vath looked up from his strategizing maps, concern etched on his face. "What is it, my love? You know you can trust me."
Xylara's eyes welled up with tears. "I... I'm pregnant again."
Zor-Vath's expression softened, and he rose from his seat, embracing Xylara gently. "Oh, my queen... I'm so proud of you for sharing this with me. We will face this journey together, always."
Xylara's grip on the pouch tightened, her voice cracking. "After what happened last time... I was so scared to hope again."
Zor-Vath's hold on her strengthened. "We will get through this together, Xylara. Our love and unity will carry us through every challenge. We will bring our child into a world where Aethereia and Kra-el stand as one, and our family will be the symbol of that unity."
Tears of joy and relief streaming down her face, Xylara knew that this time, their love would overcome any obstacle, and their child would be a beacon of hope for their united realms.
Xylara's eyes sparkled as she took Zor-Vath's hand, leading him to their private chambers. "I have news to share with you, my love," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Zor-Vath's brow furrowed in concern. "What is it, my queen? You know you can tell me anything."
Xylara's smile grew wider. "I am with child, Zor-Vath. Our child."
Zor-Vath's eyes widened in surprise, and he pulled Xylara into a warm embrace. "A new life, a new hope for our united realms," he whispered, his voice filled with joy. "We will raise our child to be a symbol of peace and unity for Aethereia and Kra-el."
Xylara laughed, tears of happiness streaming down her face. "Our child will be a beacon of light, shining bright for generations to come."
Together, they held each other, basking in the warmth of their love and the promise of a brighter future.
Zor-Vath's eyes widened in horror as the messenger's words pierced his soul. "Zor-Xith, your brother, has fallen. His failed conquest over Xylara's realm was met with swift justice from the Elders." Xylara rushed to his side, embracing him as he crumbled under the weight of grief. She held him close, her own heart heavy with sorrow, as he trembled with rage and sorrow. "My brother, my brother... how could they do this to him?" he lamented, his voice cracking with anguish. Xylara's gentle touch and soft whispers brought some solace, but the pain of his loss still seared his soul. "I'm so sorry, Zor-Vath. I know how much he meant to you. His actions were wrong, but his fate was unjust." She held him, her tears mingling with his, as they mourned the loss of a loved one, and the senseless tragedy that had unfolded.
Zor-Vath entered the chamber, his heart racing with excitement, eager to share the news of his triumph over the dark forces of Kra-el. But as he approached Xylara, he sensed a sorrowful energy emanating from her. Her eyes, once radiant, now seemed dull and sunken. He noticed her slender frame appeared frail, her skin pale. "Xylara, my love?" he asked, concern etched on his face. She turned away, her voice barely audible. "I...I lost our child, Zor-Vath. Our little one is gone." The words struck him like a blow, leaving him breathless. He felt as though he'd been punched in the gut, his mind reeling with shock and grief. He embraced her, holding her close as tears streamed down her face, mingling with his own. "Oh, Xylara, my love, my heart aches for you, for us, for our little one who will never be."
