the best way to find out what you want out of two options is to start to ask someone which one you should do. for example, i started writing out a post asking which of two prompts i should write for nanowrimo, and as i did i immediately thought ‘man i really hope they pick the second one’ and so now i know to go with the second one
When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You’ve been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed.
ok so this new thing taylor swift did is problematic because *flips a coin* it gentrifies *spins wheel* snake culture and blatantly disregards *rolls dice* world hunger in light of *throws dart* the 2016 election and
exudes *picks card out of a card* white privilege in the judicial system
According to the multi-world theory, there is a universe where every flipped coin has landed on heads, completely by chance. Imagine rooms full of machines, just flipping coins with scientists baffled as to why it happens
I have been having some thoughts about the original mythological
Loki and the thought that has been on my mind most is this:
1. Surprisingly great with kids
2. Is addicted to parenthood
Let me explain.
As to the first bit, well, yeah, it’s surprising. Or it should
be at first glance. Because, seriously, this is fucking Loki. Standing
in close proximity to him for longer than a minute is bound to result in theft,
arson, a splash of bloodshed for color, and at least one confused party waking
up in bed with the fucker. He’s a chaotic, manic, and generally hazardous force
to be reckoned with.
To us. That is, adults.
Mortals, gods, giants, trolls, dwarves, et cetera–but only
those who are mature.* *Read: there is Something to be Gained from conning,
seducing, or otherwise messing with us. Whether it’s to save his own skin, or
to get some sweet petty vengeance, or to steal a bauble, or to satisfy some
carnal itch, or to just fuck up somebody’s day for the Hel of it, Loki only
ever targets those he can take something worthwhile from.
And what is there to take from kids?
Plenty of folks on his extremely extensive Enemies List have
children, of course. No one in the Norse mythos was especially mindful of
dropping their seed. So. Children.
Children–easy to fool, easy to make a hostage, easy to charm
and siphon their parents’ secrets and treasures from–should be great big
bullseyes to the God of Mischief and Trickery and Assorted Other Unscrupulous
Things. Yet there isn’t a single Edda or snippet of lore in which Loki makes cruel
use of them. Not once.
But what’s the big deal? Most of the rude and/or villainous
characters in Norse mythology don’t bother with harassing kids either. Except
in the case of stories like Loka
Loka Táttur is a tale about how a farmer loses a bet with a
vicious troll who swears to kill the farmer’s little boy. The farmer calls upon
three gods in turn. Odin, Hoenir, and Loki. Odin and Hoenir both disguise the
boy and hide him away, but the troll is too clever and each time manages to
sniff out the boy’s hiding place. Ultimately it is Loki who hides the kid–pulling
an Idunn-in-a-Nutshell gag and hiding him as a speck on the eye of a flounder
in the water–and then, rather than stepping back as Odin and Hoenir did from
their work, he sits in his boat and lets the troll see him.
The troll, being suspicious, asks what Loki’s business is. Only
fishing, obviously. The troll demands to join him. Lo and behold, they bring up
a wealth of flounders, including the one where the boy’s hidden. Loki manages
to change the boy back to his true shape and hide the kid behind his back
without the troll noticing. As Loki brings the boat back to shore, and to the
farmer’s boathouse with the latter’s doors open, Loki tells the boy to run
through the boathouse. He goes, the troll gives chase, and the troll becomes
wedged in the entryway.
At which point Loki proceeds to chop off the troll’s legs and
stick an iron stake in the bastard’s skull. Then he walks the kid back home. The
grand payoff for Loki after all this?
The boy is safe. The troll is dead. The End.
Now, much as Loki may have been the catalyst for a lot of
corpses pre-Ragnarok–see his business with Thor getting his hammer back and
leading more than one giant into a death trap–Loki is actually very rarely, if
ever, one to get his hands dirty by killing a victim himself. Even Baldr was
done in by an arrow he aimed with blind Hod’s fingers. So why did Loki
personally orchestrate this plan in such a grisly way? For what gain?
What, other than the satisfaction of personally slaughtering the
would-be child-killing prick troll?
In a less bloody narrative, we see his hand in getting Thialfi
and Roskva, a pair of mortal siblings, taken into Thor’s service. While the
exact ages of the two aren’t mentioned, they are young enough to still be in
the care of their parents. When Thor and Loki are travelling it’s their father
who invites them under their roof. Thor’s goats are slaughtered for the evening
meal and–in some tellings–it is Loki who entices the son, Thialfi, into
breaking a leg bone to taste the marrow. When morning comes and Thor resurrects
his goats, one has a broken leg.
Thor’s visibly pissed—never ever
a good thing–and so the family offers to make some compensation.
Loki, coughing through his hand: ThialfibroketheboneheshouldpledgeservicetoThor
Loki, clearing his throat:Alsotakethesistertwoforonedeal
Rosvka: But I didn’t do anything—
Loki, en sotto voce: Kids, consider your options. Teensy
mortal lifetime of toil on Midgard, harvesting dirt and snow on one hand.
Potentially immortal lifetime, I don’t know, scrubbing giant blood off Mjolnir in
Thor’s hall on Asgard on the other. Verdict?
Loki: Excellent! Really, Thor, you’re a master dealmaker,
a born barterer, I’m in awe.
Loki: AND WE’RE BACK TREKKING LETS GO
Cue laugh track.
Point being, Loki has been shown to purposefully go
out of his way to help kids because…because. Yet how does this translate to the
idea of him being good with kids?
I ask this purely hypothetically and am trying not to
laugh as I do, because really. Really.
How in the hell is a kid not going to be entertained by the Norse god of
revelry and recreation?
Oh yeah, that bit’s often left off the résumé.
Loki, God of
Mischief, is also God of Recreation. Play, in other words. Because playtime is
a thing that is Chaotic rather than a product of Order, and so Loki is
naturally all over it. There are some who even credit him with having added
that trait to the first humans, Ask and Embla, while Odin, Vili, and Vé were
carving them and breathing character into their souls.
On top of that, he’s also the god of flyting—poetic shit-talking.
So we have a shapeshifting, storytelling,
magic-wielding, game-spinning, trickster god who can also teach young ears
every bad word they could ever hope to learn, and he’s expected not to be a hit with kids? This is all
without even mentioning the fact that Loki is a bit of a hyperactive attention
hog all on his own. What better audience for him than a gaggle of credulous
little onlookers who are too young to sneer at his antics rather than take
delight in them? Children are wee balls of mischief themselves, muddled in with
imagination and wonder and an eagerness to be wowed or made to laugh themselves
All of which brings me to point number two:
Loki is a kidaholic.
Like, even though a lot of his and/or her sleeping
around the Realms can be chalked up
to an insane libido, there’s also just the sheer number of kids they’ve
produced to factor in. Maybe more than even Odin or Thor could boast. At least
half being born from Loki herself. Not because Loki was helpless against the
workings of nature—it’s impossible to believe that Loki wasn’t smart enough or powerful enough to get around producing
new Lokisons and Lokisdottirs with every other bedmate—but because Loki wants more kids. There will never be
The guy’s got a case of severe paternal/maternal
hoarding going on. I mean
Loki: I need another one.
Odin: You really don’t.
Loki: You’re right. I need two other ones.
Odin: I am positive that you do not.
Loki: Three. Triplets. Need them. Right now.
Loki: Four? Four. Definitely four.
Odin: Loki, please.
Loki: Yeah, let’s go with four. I can give or get. I’ll
flip a coin.
Odin: Loki, as Allfather, I am expressly forbidding
you to impregnate or be impregnated for at least a century.
Loki: …I’ll settle for three.
Odin: What did I just
Loki: Three’s a good number, isn’t it? All good
things come in threes. You and your brothers—
Odin, fighting an aneurysm: You and your brothers—
Loki: So you agree!
Odin: I did not—
Loki: Three it is!
Loki: Be back when I feel like it
Loki: Give my love to Sleipnir
Loki, pantsless, vaulting over the wall, cartwheeling
towards Jötunheimr’s Ironwood forest: Bye
It’s in that Ironwood that he meets Angrboda and
fathers a giant wolf, a giant snake, and the literal corpse-faced queen-goddess
of the dead by her. Being that Loki’s scope of attractiveness/aesthetic acceptability
is elastic enough to let all sorts of species between his legs, I find it hard
to believe that his kids’ unique looks would repulse or even faze him. They’re
his children. Therefore they’re great.
And we all know how that happy family
ended up. Ditto his second family with Sigyn and his two little twin boys.
Enter Ragnarok, warfare, general Bad
Times, and so on.
Comical as it is to envision a Loki who cringes at
the notion of parenthood and/or fears his more monstrous children, I just don’t
believe it lines up with what we know of the Loki of myth.
Myth Loki is a god who would spend hours entertaining
a child, simply entertained that the child is entertained.
Myth Loki is also
a god who would hunt down and methodically dismember whichever idiot
thought it would be okay to make a child cry within said god’s earshot.
- to the people who can remember every aspect of a situation from a random wednesday in 2013 but regularly forget their families’ faces
- to the people with great short term memory but awful long term memory
- to the people with that the other way round
- to the people who hear “if its important to you, you’ll remember it” when the only things u remember are completely unimportant
- to the people who’s brain seems to flip a coin on whether information they’re taking in will stick or not
- to the people who hear “your memory cant be bad because you remember [X], so you must be lying when you say you cant remember [Y]”
- to the people who cant retain information on their hyperfixation/special interest even though they really want to, and even though they “should” be able to
- to the people who can remember that there’s something they want to remember, but not what that thing is
shoutout to the people with simultaneously good and bad memories; you guys dont get enough recognition (feel free to add on)
To say ‘just ignore it’ only makes sense to those who are not at risk of directly experiencing violence at the hands of violent racists. The flip side of that coin is that it’s easy to ignore the KKK when your skin color doesn’t make them want to kill you.
so with the news about geoff taking a sabbatical, my brain did the “ridiculous headcanon” thing it does and imagined fake ah crew geoff getting burned out (”because organizing you assholes is like trying to herd a fucking swarm of hornets”) and deciding to go on vacation for a while to recharge
and geoff’s basically like “do not call me unless there is an emergency,” and for geoff an emergency consists of:
the actual, literal apocalypse
do not call him
but geoff pretty quickly finds out that for the crew, an emergency can be:
“did you pack underwear” —jack
“i can’t find the remote” —gavin
“geoff please i can’t find it call me back” —gavin
“gavin and i are arguing about the probability of flipping three coins and the– geoff? hello? did you hang up on me?” —ryan
“ryan ended his murder break because of an argument with gavin and is trying to blow up everything in the tri-county area” —michael
“michael’s a fucking tattletale” —ryan
“i’m drunk and i wrote a rap about you here listen” —jeremy
“i’m drunk and jeremy wrote a rap about you and i beatboxed and it’s amazing please answer your phone” —lindsay
“i’m drunk and weepy and i miss you” —virtually everyone, on the same night
(“i’m sober and annoyed and please save me” —ray)
geoff bursts into the penthouse two weeks before he’s supposed to return and everybody’s basically like what the hell are you doing geoff you’re supposed to be relaxing and geoff has a conniption fit
So, I’m playing a campaign with my family where my mom is dming and I’m playing a wood Elf Alchemist’s apprentice named Kailu who’s a bar tender. He has extremely high bluff and is known for doing bottle tricks.
He was holding down the bar one night when a rich couple came in and this is what happened.
Rich guy: I’ve heard good things about this place.
Kailu: you’ve heard right.
Rich guy: let’s see what you can do. *Flips me a coin*
Me (ooc): I roll to catch it on my nose *rolls a two*
DM: it arches through the air and hits you in the eye before bouncing off the bar and rolling to the opposite side of the room
’ you look a lot like my next girlfriend/boyfriend. ’
’ are you a drill sergeant? because you have my privates standing at attention. ’
’ do you mix concrete for a living? because you’re making me hard. ’
’ if you’re feeling down, i can feel you up. ’
’ i’m no weather man, but you can expect more than a few inches tonight. ’
’ i may not go down in history, but i’ll go down on you. ’
’ are you from the ghetto? cause i’m about to ghetto hold of dat ass. ’
’ you know what i like in a girl? my dick. ’
’ are you a doctor? cause you just cured my erectile dysfunction. ’
’ i lost my virginity. can i have yours? ’
’ hey, you wanna do a 68? you go down on me, and i’ll owe you one. ’
’ you can call me cake, cause i’ll go straight to your ass. ’
’ roses are red, violets are fine. if i be the 6, will you be the 9? ’
’ i’m like a firefighter, i find ‘em hot and leave ‘em wet! ’
’ i’m hung like a tic tac. wanna freshen your breath? ’
’ you smell like trash. may i take you out? ’
’ i wanna floss with your pubic hair. ’
’ let’s have a party and invite your pants to come on down. ’
’ you’re so hot, even my pants are falling for you! ’
’ are you spaghetti cause i want you to meat my balls. ’
’ we should play strip poker. you can strip, and I’ll poke you. ’
’ do you like adele? cause i can tell you wanna be rolling in the d. ’
’ do you have a shovel? cause i’m diggin’ that ass! ’
’ damn, are you my new boss, because you just gave me a raise. ’
’ remember my name, because you’ll be screaming it later! ’
’ are you an elevator? cause i wanna go down on you. ’
’ are you a shark? cause i’ve got some swimmers for you to swallow. ’
’ do you work for papa johns? cause you’re a fine pizza ass. ’
’ are you from china? cause i’m china get in your pants. ’
’ why don’t you surprise your roommate and not come home tonight? ’
’ baby there’s a party in my pants and you are invited! ’
’ i’m looking for treasure, can i look around your chest? ’
’ if i flip a coin, what are my chances of getting head? ’
’ would you like a hotdog to go with those buns? ’
’ this may seem corny, but you make me really horny. ’
’ how about you make me the climax of your story? ’
’ that’s a nice set of legs, what time do they open? ’
’ my name is skittles… wanna taste my rainbow? ’
’ you remind me of a crop, because i wanna plow you. ’
In the beginning campaign I DM for, my players were forced into a battle against Drows. One of my players was still getting used to how to play and trying to fight effectively. Unsure of what to do for his turn, he said:
“I flirt with a rock.” He rolled a Natural 20 and thus started a relationship with it (he wasn’t too happy, but the rest of the party found it hilarious. The party keeps this going on as a running gag within the group, and this rock is now named “Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson.”
Fast forward, due to complications, that player who was unhappily dating Dwayne discontinued the campaign, and we accepted two new members who learn of the Rock Legend. Now, it had been a long time since they last saw Dwayne– she had disappeared for off somewhere (which my players were like, “How the hell did she move? She’s a rock.”). Our Ranger sent off their panther to find where she, the rock, could have gone, and the only information they got at the time was that, “She’s in a community with high position.”
After a few chaotic events, the party traveled in the forest trying to find survivors of a destroyed village, following a trail of prints. The trail they were following was divided into two paths– left and right. They flipped a coin and went right. Instead of finding the survivors, they came across a Golem society with mud-huts and a I just kept describing:
“There’s a ziggurat with a throne on the top……….. with a rock on top.”
Immediately I see my Ranger drop their head in their hands. "I hate you.“
"It’s Dwayne the Rock Johnson!“
So pretty much this rock that my player’s party discovered became Queen of the Golems.
Dean and Cas don’t care much for PDA. Maybe that’s why it took Sam so long to figure it out. But if you look closely, it was always there—
Dean and Cas pressed close on their side of the booth in the diner. Sam is tired and hungry and barely paying them any attention as Dean inspects the cuts on Castiel’s knuckles. Maybe they steal a kiss when Sam gets up to go to the bathroom. The waitress beaming at them as they leave suggests they aren’t as sneaky as they think.
Dean and Cas in motel rooms. Sam and Dean used to rock-paper-scissors for who had to share and none of them mention that they don’t do that anymore. Sam sleeps alone. Cas bunks with Dean. It’s automatic, now.
Dean and Cas in the Impala. Sam’s navigating from the back seat because he and Cas flipped a coin and maybe angels are a little psychic. They sit on their respective sides but sometimes Castiel’s arm bridges the distance, his hand in Dean’s, or sometimes Dean stretches an arm across the back of the seat, his thumb brushing the collar of Cas’s jacket. If Sam notices anything, he stays quiet.