Apocalypsewriters - I Think I’m Lost

*barges through wall* WHAT'S UP FOLKS I'm alive and not dead and also working on a WIP which is also alive and not abandoned, Tuned Teeth and Sour Symphonies. Sorry for the radio silence 'tis exam season-

that aside, I give you, Blorbo Bleebus:

He's an antagonist a bastard a bitch and has no redeeming qualities. I love him dearly. Ask me about Blorbo Bleebus? Please?

12 days of loving my writing day 7: god

I ADORE this piece. It was incredible doing such a detailed exploration of the lore in A Quest of Cards and Calamity. World building normally isn’t my favourite thing to do, but this brought me so much joy. I love the whimsical, impersonal narration style. I can see this being told around a campfire to the children by a village elder some decades after the goddesses are banished

There are realms beyond the plane we know. They are filled with awesome creations beyond our comprehension that would break our very way of existence. Places such as these began differently than our home, with flashes instead of bangs, beginning existence with a whisper instead of a roar. They grew differently; some lasted a breath, others into forever, evolving into crabs or bears or unfathomable creatures, becoming as fragile as a bird’s bone or as powerful as a tsunami.

It is from one of these realms that our gods came from. Though they impart few secrets to our people, some priests have been given wisdom that they shared across the land. Four sisters were united under shared distaste for mundanity. They combined their great and awful power of battle, family, growth, and light, and traveled to our realm, a new playground to explore their abilities in an isolated setting.

In the beginning of their domination, the quartet was benevolent and generous. They lent their seemingly boundless magics to the people, growing crops, lighting nights, securing victories, and strengthening communities. A golden age began. Dedication and reverence was widespread, leading to an abundance of people that obtained the goddesses’ blessings, wielding powers lesser than theirs, but power nonetheless. Great acts were performed in their names for people across our plane, creating prosperity that has never been seen before or since. Impossible vines grew into their kingdom in the sky, where patrons visited and paid homage to the goddess’ greatness and were returned to the world below bearing gifts of gold and light bringing music. Enlightened thinkers battled against the pull of nothing that the overabundance of knowledge creates, and their victories brought back revolutionary theories improving the world before them.

As time wore on, the interest of the goddesses waned. They were not so generous with their boons, instead letting people fester in their ineptitude. When praised, sometimes they paid attention, granting year after year of bountiful harvests. But they were careless in their gifts, sometimes flooding the banks of rivers and drowning crops that the river otherwise provided for. Sometimes they forgot to send in the sun, letting part of the world fall into darkness for months on end until the people learned to live without it and stopped asking for help. While they never intended to hurt the people wholly sway to their every whim, their disinterest cost many lives and caused swaths of people to lose faith. Gifts were inherited among the people, and those carrying old blessings were heralded as heroes as they saved the ordinary from the wrathful apathy of the four goddesses.

As the people lost their faith, the goddesses grew bitter. They were empowered by belief and devotion. Heroes and all the other people grew in strength, numbers, and will. They boasted of their gifts, claiming independence from the goddesses. They paid for the arrogance dearly. A simple ungifted weaver who battled simple nature to create complex tapestries bragged about her skill and thus was transformed into a horrifying beast as payment. Light was woven into delightful displays, bringing awe to so many in ways beyond the goddess' previously shown skill that she was forgotten about. Cruelly, she stole the light she gifted back, leaving the people to fester in the darkness until a mighty hero stole it back. Heroes committed untellable feats and were whispered about in reverence across the land until their names became synonymous with legend.

They demanded more and more from those under their jurisdiction, demanding unmeetable standards that tore apart the continent. Tribute was wrenched from followers' hands and sacrificed to serve no purpose; communities were torn apart to feed an entrapped beast cursed to an existence torn between two forms. The world split between anger, indifference, and reverence. The goddesses expected absolutes in success and potential, and perpetual acknowledgement and inclusion. All were tortured with the inconstant moods of the goddesses, buffeted about by their rage.

Mighty champions arose to beat back their abuse. It took years of near endless travel, great leaps in strength and skill, and profound luck to reach their end goal. Finally, miraculously, they defeated the goddesses in an earth scarring battle. They banished the goddesses to another realm and never hurt the heroes’ home again.

But still there is a battle: are the hardships worth the destruction wrought by the goddesses, or should they stay away and out of our homes affairs forevermore?

a rival most vial snippet I’m enjoying as I proofread:

“What’s all this about a commission breakthrough?” Sherry asked Eli. But Eli had his eyes on Ambrose—robes shed, ink cleared off his face, a tiny bounce in his step. The bounce was hardly visible, except for when he passed the glowing crystals lining the walkway. But after Eli noticed it, he couldn’t not stare at him. At his perked ears, then his tapered waist, his long legs…

Eli determined that Ambrose should have scientific breakthroughs more often.

oh, eli.

Reblog with what you would tell your 13-year-old self in the tags.

a stressed boy

Get you a guy that is so grabbable. Get you a guy that is a stress toy