#while learning how to play magic the gathering

[unnonexistence]

i love themed chapter titles soooo much. like i love chapter titles in general but something about Chapters With Naming Schemes really gets me

[bunnis-monsters]

🎄NSFW 🎄

warning: oviposition, gangbang, fluff+smut

Your first Christmas with the bee hybrids was… certainly an experience.

You’ve only been queen for a year. Your own little ones are barely toddlers learning to walk and fly, but the babies from the previous queen have grown attached and see you as their mama too.

“Mama, what’s Christmas?”

Oh, the dreaded question. The hive had been teaching the little ones human traditions and simple biological facts to make sure they grew up knowing how to properly take care of their queen.

“Oh… it’s a holiday where the family gathers around, exchanged presents, and then we eat a nice dinner.”

One of your own toddles over, teething on one of your fingers as you speak. “Sometimes during the season, people go caroling or look at Christmas lights. There’s a lot of baking as well.”

They all let out a collective “ooo”.

This was the beginning of the end.

The second Halloween was over, the baby bees were buzzing around, begging their mama for some Christmas fun. It wasn’t fair that the humans got to celebrate such cool traditions while they “wasted away” in their cribs.

“Mama, I wanna make cookies!”

“A-and I want to see Santa!”

“Mama, are we elves?”

Overwhelmed by all of their requests and… odd questions, you quickly roped in the adults in your hive to help you make Christmas possible for your baby bees.

Surprisingly, the hardest part was your subjects trying to comprehend why the little ones should receive a gift from an outsider of the hive.

“This Santa creature… is he safe? What does he want in return for gifts of this amount? I’m not sure we have enough honey to satisfy such a beast.”

That’s when you had to break it to the adults of your hive that Santa was in fact not real, and that all of the presents would come from them.

A few of your attendants whined, burying their faces in your neck and tummy, rubbing their fluff against you. “My queen, he’s not real? We won’t get presents?”

“Oh dear…”

It took the entire month of November to simply gather all of the supplies together, and you wondered if it would be possible to give your babies the Christmas they wanted.

First up on the list was Christmas caroling. They refused to do it in the hive, babbling on about spreading Christmas cheer.

So you hid their antennas under hats, bundled them up nice and warm, and escorted them down a relatively safe human street. The bee hybrids guarded the little ones, buzzing threateningly at anyone that got to close as they sang their little songs.

You watched out of the corner of your eyes as one of them fell face first into a snow bank, their little legs wiggling while being pulled out by one of the guards.

It was difficult not to laugh.

After their caroling, they wanted to play in the snow for a while. You let them play until they were running to you and crying, their little noses runny and their hands cold.

“Alright, let’s go home.”

Through December, you helped them do fun crafts and write their letters to Santa. There was a certain magic in the air, everyone was excited for the big night.

And then it came. Christmas Eve was filled with activities, the first being a special breakfast.

The next activity was baking cookies for Santa. Since you had so many little ones, multiple ovens had to be used just to make enough cookies for them to decorate.

Of course they all ate most of them, unable to resist the sugary treats, but you were able to save a plate full for Santa.

They all gathered around the giant tree the bee hybrids brought into the hive, all giggling and decorating it as others snacked on the Christmas cookies. Seeing your cute little fuzz balls so happy made your heart soar.

The last activity before bed was to watch a Christmas movie, and they all wanted to be snuggled up with you while they waited for Santa.

They all wore little matching pajamas, their wings buzzing and antennas twitching as they curled up with their mama.

“Mama… Christmas is the best…” one of your babies cooed as another nursed. They were still so little, you hoped you’d have many more Christmas memories like this in the future.

Carefully, you untangled yourself from the pile of sleeping baby bees and made you way to the adult Christmas party.

When you opened the door, all eyes were on you. Some were drunk from overripe fruit while others were feasting on sweets and playing games while waiting for you to arrive.

And every single one of them was hard.

“My queen~!”

You were approached by your attendants, who all rubbed around you, desperate for your attention after you had been busy with the babies all day. “We missed you… everyone’s been waiting for our Christmas present!”

All of the bee hybrids cooed and hummed, buzzing with excitement. In exchange for them working so hard to give the babies a nice Christmas, you promised to give them a special treat.

Your body.

Instantly you were surrounded, being caressed and sniffed, your clothes easily coming off. Your hive had been working nonstop all month to make you and the babies happy, which meant you hadn’t been mated with much.

And embarrassingly enough, you craved this as much as they did.

You cried out in ecstasy as one of the bees latched onto your clit, sucking softly as your cunt was being fucked by another. Both of your nipples were being attacked, and your mouth was stuffed with a fat cock.

“Is this okay, my queen?”

“Ahh, my queen, you’re so tight…”

It was a night full of many orgasms, your tummy heavy and full of eggs by morning.

Each bee hybrid got their turn inside of your cunt, and admittedly it was arousing to watch them jerk off to the image of you being fucked by the others, some even sucking and fucking each other because they were too impatient.

But they ended up completely satisfied, lapping softly at your cunt, licking up some of the cum and gently pushing eggs back into your pussy.

You were so, so full and kept cumming around the eggs that it was hard to keep them inside… but your attendants swooped in to take care of the aftercare and make sure you would be ready for the morning.

You yawned, resting against a fluffy bee hybrid as your little ones opened their presents in the morning. They were all so happy, giggling and carrying around their toys to show to their mama.

It was a great first Christmas with the bee hybrids, and each one of them was looking forward to next year!

[deadsetobsessions]

He’s existed for an eternity. He will exist for longer than that. Danny Fenton’s ruled the Zone longer than he’s been fully alive, by a long shot. Still half alive.

Immortal. He can’t die- not when he’s already half dead- and his age stays and stays stagnated. Un-aging. True immortality, unlike the claims of those newborn gods who borrow power from a deeper force than even they could comprehend.

A god dies when there are none left to venerate them. Danny dies when death ceases to be reality, which in itself is death…

It’s easy, once his mortal life had faded far away. He slips into roles- protection, of course, never forgotten- and traipses around to live in universes even as he kills them by simply existing. One day, a little fairy catches his eyes. It fluttered about meaninglessly, gathering dew drops and sap. It taught him two lessons.

“Why do you work yourself so?” Death had asked the little fairy.

The little fairy, only seeing the facade of a placid young boy that Death had donned to imitate the days where he was fully alive, had answered fearlessly. “I enjoy the work! My court needs those supplies, and I’m happy being able to help while doing something I love.”

“Oh.” Danny remembered being like that once. It was why his essence thrummed with Protection, even in Death. He had forgotten, even as a halfa, how to be alive. He knew how to be living, but he’d forgotten how to be alive.

Still, the boy had another question.

“Are you not afraid of me?” He’d met people like these before, on the rare occasions he personally guided souls, and they were unflinching in his presence.

“No, you are just a child. Say… won’t you tell me your name?”

“Danny,” Death answered truthfully. Death doesn’t like to lie. “Danny Fenton.”

“Danny-” the little fae freezes, malicious grin falling from its face as it trembled like the blades of grass it stole dew from. “No- no, no! Why- why can’t I take your name?!”

“I am also known as Death,” Danny admitted, watching as the fairy’s magic imploded on itself. One could not own death. He learns a lesson that day too. If he disguises himself, if death is disguised as harmlessness, as just ‘one more’, as an object of greed, those living would happily run towards Death himself.

As the little buzzing fae backed away, the flowers on its extremities withered. Danny caught its wrist before it could dart away.

“Tell the ruler of your court to come,” Danny said gently, ectoplasm easing away from the trembling little thing.

“Yes, yes, please, I will.” Danny released the fluttering thing and bid it leave.

----

"That's how you met Oberon?"

Danny laughed, plucking the little Robin from a jump and shadowing to the ledge two buildings ahead.

"Not so, little sparrow. That was how I met Tatiana."

"The queen?!"

"The queen. Remember this, if nothing else, when you play with Royalty, there is very little they wouldn't stoop to in order to ensure their wants."

"Okay. Does that include you too?"

See? Danny knew the little sparrow was smart, somewhere beneath that fanboy-driven dumbassery.

"Yes."

"Soooo... what do you want, Danny?"

"To know what it is to live again. Death tends to be cold, you see."

"...Can I help?"

A flash of fangs, a slow, meaningful smile. "You are already helping, little sparrow. Even your Bats are helping. I have not felt joy in centuries."

"Oh."

Robin's comms buzzed. "Ask him about how he met Oberon, Timsy!" Jason's voice came through loud and clear to Danny.

"Oberon?" Danny cut in, enjoying the vibrant activity his chosen nightlife observed. "Oh, I beat him at poker. Actually, I own a quarter of his palace."

[himasgod]

HOUSEWARDENS + CATER X READER

Where stress makes you vomit

Where you were out on an activity with your boyfriend, feeling a little dizzy… but Ace, Deuce, and Grim do something that makes your anxiety kick in and your condition grounds you…

You were already feeling queasy before the club meeting, but Cater had asked so sweetly, you didn’t want to let him down.

But Ace started a prank war with confetti charms, and Deuce tripped over the sound system. You had all that stress in your belly from your studies and...

It was just too much.

Cater noticed you slipping away mid-laugh. By the time he found you huddled behind the club’s storage room, you were gagging into a bucket and shaking hard.

“Babe—!” His voice cracked. “Oh no, oh no no no…”

He rushed to your side, dropping to his knees, not caring about his uniform.

His hand cupped the back of your neck, cool and steady, while his other hand gently rubbed your spine.

“Okay, deep breaths, sunshine. In… and out… You’re not alone, I got you.”

After the worst passed, he brought you to his room.

He brewed chamomile tea, held your hair when you had to lean over again, and never once looked away.

When you started crying out of frustration, he just scooted closer and rested his forehead to yours.

“You don’t gotta sparkle for me, cutie,” he whispered. “I like you just as you are—even on your bad days. Especially on your bad days. Let me be here for you, okay?”

It was supposed to be a fun surprise. Kalim had invited everyone to Scarabia for a “stress-relief” party after exams—

bright lights, loud music.... But the noise, the bustle, the magic—it hit your gut like a cannonball.

You barely lasted half an hour before retreating, your body trembling with the pain of it all.

Jamil was the one who found you curled up in Kalim’s room, and Kalim followed moments later, panicked and breathless.

“You’re sick? Oh no, no, what did I do—was it the music? The food? The carpet? The singing monkeys? I’ll cancel everything, I promise—!”

His voice cracked, tears already in his eyes, because he hated when you were in pain.

You whispered a soft broken “Kalim,” and it shut him right up.

He gently gathered you up into his arms, his chest warm against your back.

“I’ve got you. You don’t have to explain anything. Just rest. I’m here.”

Kalim turned the party into a quiet tea ceremony the next day, explaining to everyone—very sweetly but firmly—that you weren’t feeling well, and the dorm was now a “Quiet Zone.”

He filled his room with soft blankets, low lighting, and played gentle music to help you relax.

He even tried learning how to make porridge himself, burning two pots before Jamil took over.

When you woke from a fitful nap and saw Kalim asleep in a chair next to your bed, still holding your hand, you couldn’t help the lump that rose in your throat.

He woke at your soft sniffle, blinking sleepily.

“Oh! You’re awake—do you need anything? Water? Pillows? More hugs?”

You smiled, voice still weak. “Just you.”

His smile could’ve lit a thousand lamps.

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

You knew letting Ace and Deuce talk you into watching their failed potion experiment in the botanical garden was a mistake.

One minute it was a flask bubbling prettily; the next, it exploded.

The stress hit you like a train—and so did the stomach pain. By the time you staggered back to your room in Savanaclaw, you were shaking.

The nausea curled up in your belly. You didn’t even make it to bed before you sank to the floor, groaning, eyes blurry.

Leona found you there, pale and curled in on yourself.

“Tch. You look like shit.” he crouched beside you. “Oi. What happened?”

You tried to speak, but the retching cut you off. He swore under his breath, scooping you up with way more care than he liked to admit.

He brought you to his bed—because he didn’t trust anyone else not to mess it up—and bundled you in soft blankets.

You were barely lucid when he returned with a wet cloth and a lukewarm water bottle, pressing them both to your clammy skin.

“The hell were you doing with those herbivore idiots?” he muttered. “You know stress messes you up.”

“I thought it’d be fine…”

He clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. Instead, he eased down next to you, an arm lazily thrown around your middle, thumb rubbing slow, grounding circles.

Over the next few days, Leona kept his room on lockdown. He growled at anyone who dared make noise near the hallway and threatened Ruggie.

He barely left your side, only slipping away to fetch water, broth, or glare down any idiot who tried to cause a scene.

When you could finally speak clearly, you whispered, “You stayed.”

He scoffed against your hair.

“Of course I stayed, you dummy. Who else’s stomach is this dramatic?”

The chaos began with yet another of Ace and Deuce’s misadventures: this time, an enchanted pie that exploded and drenched half the dorm in whipped cream, including several angry hedgehogs.

Riddle was furious—but your stomach? It was worse.

You hadn’t eaten much that day, knowing the nausea had been lurking, but the stress of dodging magical desserts, Riddle’s rage, and Deuce running into your room shouting “there’s a badger in the hallway, don’t freak out!” had tipped your fragile gut over the edge.

You barely made it back to your room before the wave of nausea turned into something worse.

When Riddle finds out you’ve been vomiting for hours and haven’t been able to keep down even tea, the anger drains from his face.

He’s at your bedside faster than you expect, his normally upright posture hunched as he kneels next to you.

“I didn’t realize,” he murmurs “You should have told me sooner. I would’ve—” He cuts himself off

“I’m sorry,” you whisper hoarsely breath catching between stomach cramps.

“No.” He puts a gentle hand on your wrist, his thumb rubbing lightly over your pulse point. “Don’t apologize. I should have known better than to let them run wild like that. You’re… you’re more important than a few broken rules.”

Riddle ends up canceling the next day’s unbirthday party, putting the dorm under strict silence, and bringing in Trey to make very gentle soups and teas.

He keeps a detailed chart of what you manage to eat, fusses if you try to get up too soon, and reads to you in the evenings from books he used to like as a child.

“I know this isn’t a cure,” he says one night, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. “But… I want to learn how to help. So you never have to go through it alone.”

The Mostro Lounge was packed. Azul had invited a few students from other dorms for a special tasting night—and while it should’ve been smooth sailing, Grim got into the desserts, Ace tripped into a table, and Deuce set off a mini cauldron trying to “help.”

The chaos was so intense, Azul didn’t even notice you had slipped away.

But Jade did.

When Azul arrived at your room, his face pale, you were hunched over a trash bin, your limbs trembling and your breathing uneven.

He’d read about your condition once, when you first confided in him. But reading about something and seeing it like this were worlds apart.

He set down his briefcase and moved closer.

“I didn’t realize the stress would—”

“It’s not your fault,” you rasped, head pounding.

“I should’ve…” He trailed off, then quietly knelt beside you. “May I touch you?”

You nodded, and his gloved hand came to rest gently against your back.

Azul canceled everything for the rest of the night. He didn’t care.

He sat beside you until you drifted into uncomfortable sleep.

He commissions Jade to make gentle teas and asks Floyd (somehow successfully) to "keep things quiet." You wake later to find Azul sitting at your bedside, reading aloud from a book on deep-sea myths, voice soft and smooth.

“I want to understand your illness better,” he says without looking up. “So I’ll never make it worse again.”

You knew attending one of Vil’s high-profile beauty showcases eith Ace, Deuce and Grim was a risk—you were already running on fumes, and stress from Deuce’s awkward attempt to “help” backstage had you tied up in knots.

When Grim knocked over the centerpiece bouquet, spraying pollen across the food table, it was the last straw.

You didn’t even make it to the end. The gut pain hit like a knife.

Vil found you backstage, curled up in a corner between costume racks, trembling and pale.

“Dear—” His voice lost its polished tune as he dropped to your side, one hand hovering. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Didn’t… wanna ruin it…” You gagged, bile rising.

“Forget the event,” he snapped, but it wasn’t angry “Your health is worth more than a thousand perfect showcases and fan selfies.”

He carried you himself, unbothered by onlookers, and had Rook cancel the second half of the show.

He brought you to his personal room, lit with soft ambient lamps, aromatherapy diffusers filtering calming scents.

“You need rest. Clean hydration. Low-acid, low-fat broth. And silence.” He turned to Rook, who bowed and vanished.

Vil sits beside you with a cooling eye mask in one hand, lightly pressing it to your forehead.

He doesn’t scold you for pushing yourself. Doesn’t nag. Just stays.

“Being beautiful means knowing your body, darling. And listening when it begs for mercy.” He brushes your cheek with knuckles like porcelain. “From now on… you don’t face that pain alone. Not on my watch.”

The tech convention seemed like a good idea—until Grim got caught chewing on a wire, Ace shorted a gaming display, and Deuce accidentally set off a security alarm that locked down the whole showroom.

You felt the panic building even before your stomach began to clench.

You barely had time to message Idia before you collapsed in the hallway, vision tunneling, bile in your throat. He found you minutes later.

“Why didn’t you ping me earlier?! I—I had my phone on and everything and I—” He cut off when he saw your shaking hands, the wince every time your gut spasmed.

He dropped to the floor beside you like he was hit.

“Oh no. Oh no. You’re crashing. This is a hard crash—ohhh this is worse than any boss raid emergency.”

But to your surprise, he didn’t freak out. Not externally. Not this time.

His fingers though cold and trembling, helped ease you upright against the wall. He got Ortho to beam in warm water and a soft blanket.

He made sure no one approached.

Later, he teleported both of you back to his room. He wrapped you in his giant hoodie, adjusted the thermostat, and brought his tablet bed-side so he could monitor your temperature and hydration without leaving.

“Y-You’re like… a delicate CPU,” he muttered, resting his cheek against your shoulder. “Overclocked. But I’ll patch the bugs, okay? I’ll optimize the code. I’ll… just stay right here.”

You should’ve known Grim’s fireball and Ace’s poorly cast spell in the tower would attract more than detention.

The magical backlash hadn’t just upset the tower’s alignment—it had deeply unsettled your gut, already straining under NRC stress.

You collapsed just outside the dias, pain blinding, nausea rolling.

Malleus was there in moments. Not because he was watching but because he always knew when your body ached.

He knelt beside you, gentle hands catching your wrist.

“Child of man… you are unwell.”

You couldn’t even answer. The pain robbed you of words.

His magic flared creating a bubble of silence around you, blocking out every other sound, even the wind. Then he scooped you into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all.

He brought you to Diasomnia, directly into his room, ignoring Lilia’s sly look and Silver’s raised eyebrow.

He laid you in his bed, casting soft enchantments to dull pain and calm your system.

“You carry a burden your body was not built to hold,” he murmured, brushing your sweat-soaked bangs from your forehead. “And yet you endure.”

He sat at your side through the night, reading you lullabies in the ancient tongue.

“I would call down lightning to strike those who brought you pain- But I think you’d prefer tea and silence. So… I will be still.”

[cakypa120]

Brothers and sisters. Great words. Just not for those who have a brother and/or sister. Billy can speak from experience.

Mary:*holds Billy in a chokehold*

Freddy: Mary! Mary! Mary!

And even in their Champion forms, his dear sister and dear brother don't hesitate to hit him. Billy responds to these attacks, too. And in the end, you can see how the three heroes are clinging to a bunch of arms and legs. Biting, pinching and spitting. The usual.

Except the League thinks that the Captain is their father. And they see how he acts with them.

Junior:*flies laughing under his breath, thinking of something nasty*

Billy:*brother's senses activated*

He throws lightning at Junior, causing him to fall to the ground. As Billy later learned, Freddy wanted to steal Batman's batarangs and hide them in Marvel's room to frame the Captain in front of Batman. Everything would have been fine, but Superman witnessed the scene.

Batman witnessed Captain dragging Mary Marvel by the leg while her face was stuck in the floor. Flash watched as Marvel used Junior as a cannonball to knock down a flying villain. There were many other instances where the heroes saw Marvel abuse his "children." So they gathered and talked to Marvel.

Diana: Brother, the way you treat your children is inappropriate.

Billy: Children?

Barry: Yeah, man, Mary Marvel and Junior, don't play dumb. We figured it out.

Bruce: We want you to give us partial custody of the kids.

Billy: *looks at the League and smirks* Fine. I agree. I'll leave them in your care this weekend since I have some work to do and they won't be supervised.

Barry: What's so hard about babysitting?

A few hours later.

Barry: WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY TRYING TO OPEN A PORTAL TO HELL?!?!

Billy:*calmly sipping juice while playing poker with demons* How did you even get through to me?

Barry: It doesn't matter! ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!

Billy: They do that a lot. Check the ingredients, usually a sacrifice is required to open a portal.

Barry: What?! Nightwing is missing! And Kid Flash too! OH MY GOD!!

Billy: So they didn't get it right the first time. Bye. I have things to do.*hangs up phone*

Demon: You dumped Junior and Mary Marvel on them?

Billy: Yeah. I need a goddamn vacation. All in.

In a few minutes.

Hal: What do unicorns eat?!

Billy: Ambrosia, but you can give them candy. They like that. What happened?

Hal: Mary brought a unicorn to our base! She said you always told her not to bring a unicorn home! Why does that thing look like it came out of hell?!

Billy: Trust me, the unicorns from hell are much prettier than these. Don't let them bite you. The hallucinations are worse than drugs. Bye.

In a few more minutes.

Bruce: Captain. How long will you be gone?

Billy: *on the golf course with Black Adam* Uh, until Monday? I told you I'd leave them to you. If Junior is going to try to create a body for his dead brother again, tell him I forbid him to do so, the laws of magic forbid him to do so, and Kit himself forbids him to do so. Last time it was a mess of bones and flesh.

Bruce: What? No, that's not it. Mary Marvel has been staring at the wall for several minutes now, unmoving.

Billy: That's fine. She's just talking to the Gods.

Bruce: Gods? But which ones?

Billy: I don't know. Bye.

Adam: You dumped Mary and Freddy on them? Did you get them coins to swim across the river? I don't think they'll survive.

Billy: The supernova hasn't happened yet, so we're good.

Billy eventually shows up at the Watchtower, energized and strong. The League is silent as the hellfire burns in the center of the conference room, roasting a hellish boar.

Billy: Mm, barbecue. Why didn't you tell me? I could use some of the tears of sinners. Perfect for that kind of meat.

Barry: Cap, are these really your kids?

Billy: No, these are my older brother and sister. Thanks for looking after them.

He takes the boar and leaves, while the League looks on in mute horror.

[that-house]

The Tarrasque Can Blow Me or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Make 5e Bosses That Don't Suck

HI, I'm Catherine that-house, and I play Dungeons and Dragons Fifth Edition almost as much as I hate it. I do this because I am a sicko pervert who likes to tinker with abysmal dogshit, not because it's a good game. This screed is dedicated to everyone trapped in the same mine as me.

D&D 5e combat sucks! Here's the flow chart for your melee champion fighter's turn:

IF BAD GUY: smack bad guy

IF BAD GUY WITHIN 30 FT: move to bad guy, smack bad guy

IF LOW ON HP: second wind

IF NO BAD GUY WITHIN 30 FT: dash towards nearest bad guy

action surge, take it from the top

IF YOU'RE FEELING DARING TODAY: maybe a grapple or an item interaction

And pretty much any non-caster monster has a pretty similar flowchart: there's no real back and forth, just the same set of actions over and over and the only time you have to pay attention on someone else's turn is for an attack of opportunity maybe. Finally one side reduces the other side's number to 0, and you can get back to roleplaying in your roleplaying game.

In general, I strive to make my boss fights hard and interesting, with interesting being the more important of the two. For some reason the wicked clowns working at WOTC got it into their heads that the only ways to make a fight hard are Bigger Number and Less Counterplay. I don't have any data on how they sought to make fights interesting because as far as I can tell they were too busy siccing the Pinkertons on people like it's the fucking 1800s.

Probably not all 5e combat is like this. But, like, look at the statblock for the Tarrasque, the CR 30 "strongest monster in the game" and try to tell me that that thing looks INTERESTING to fight. Difficult? Maybe, if your stats are bad. But INTERESTING? It walks at someone and murders the shit out of them, then rinses and repeats. The fetid dog turd that is the Tarraque is the perfect example of the Bigger Number, and even its meme status as the DM's "fuck you" monster is eclipsed by later additions to the game.

The other end of the "strongest 5e statblock" spectrum is shit like Sul Khatesh from Eberron, who earns the title of "most bullshit" by being immune to nonmagic attacks and creating antimagic fields. This is progress, because you might force someone to grapple it out of the field or something so everyone can deal damage! But this is still ultimately a pretty linear fight, not unlike fighting any other caster in the game, but with Less Counterplay.

My DMing style is pretty character goal-oriented, with the occasional bullshit superboss. We sit around for a few sessions while people pursue side projects and gather information, and then I subject them to the Horrors of a 5e fight that requires things like "positioning" and "planning" from turn to turn.

When playing a high level D&D campaign with insanely bullshit homebrew magic items and character-specific custom mechanics, it becomes necessary to pull out the big guns. The biggest guns. I'm talking a gun like my boy Hierarch Ozyas, undead demigod, father of monsters and heart of a living city, who had a meaty 2000 hit points and took somewhere in the vicinity of thirteen rounds of combat to bring down. Building bosses is an arms race and it's my job to lose in style. Here's Ozyas' statblock:

The bitch himself

Anyways I've been talking for a bit without actually saying anything of substance besides making fun of the Tarrasque. Which I will do one more time:

...deep breath...

D&D 5e is a pretty widely-disdained game by pretty much anyone who's ever played more than one RPG system. I myself only play it because I enjoy game design, and the thoroughly-beaten dead horse that WOTC calls a game serves as a decent foundation to do a lot of heavy tinkering. The Tarrasque is perfectly emblematic of all of the trash I have to wade through in order to get to the stuff worth keeping: it is an uninspired, anticlimactic relic of the past that didn't even manage to cling to a shred of its old glory and is instead content to wallow in the filth of what it once was, never once providing a challenge to any character with a flying speed. I would probably attempt to beat it to death with my hands (and fail, because it checks your character's stats rather than challenging you as a player in any way), but Jim the 1st level aaracokra with a save-forcing damage cantrip already solo'd it for me, so I'll settle for chewing through the throat of whichever game designer forgot they were making a "game" and submitted a three step flowchart for D&D's ultimate boss monster.

But anyways, I promised you a guide to how I design boss fights these days, so let's get to that.

Actually, first here's a quick aside about action economy that I didn't bother finding a place to fit in elsewhere: legendary actions are basically a necessity for any boss past level five or so. One big action is going to be a lot more polarizing than several small ones (i.e. one big crit on a large attack could completely flip the course of the fight, whereas multiple smaller attacks offer the same amount of damage output in a more consistent fashion). If you don't want to give your boss a bunch of HP to make it live long enough to take a few turns, you could consider giving it two turns in the initiative order (reducing the damage per turn to keep the damage per round constant). Low health minions are also a good way to pad out action economy, and even if they're easy to kill they tend to buy the boss another turn or two just from the actions it costs to take them down.

ANYWAYS, here's the core ideas I like to focus on in my boss design:

Keep them moving

Keep them working

Keep things changing

Reward good play

Punish mistakes

Make it a game

Along the way I'll be using snippets of the boss I mentioned above to illustrate examples of these principles and how they affected play. Let's begin.

KEEP THEM MOVING Positioning doesn't really matter in 5e. AoEs and movement values are both so large that you can easily get away with not having a battle map and sorta just tracking "in melee" or "not in melee." I run most fights without a battle map and just kinda track that, but for a good boss you need a map.

But how do we keep the game from just falling back into "move into range and hurt people," you ask? Simple: the Zone of Nasty. The Zone of Nasty is something on the map that is going to hurt the PCs if they're in it, and the Zone of Nasty moves. Depending on the boss, it could grow, shrink, follow a player, follow the boss, alternate between areas of the map, whatever. Some bosses might have multiple different Zones of Nasty that move in different ways and do different things.

There are other ways to force movement besides a moving AoE, such as punishing players for being too close or too far from each other or the boss.

The general principle here is that a boss should at times force suboptimal play: optimal play involves simply standing around, spending all your actions on damaging the boss, and it's incredibly boring from a strategic standpoint. There should be turns in which your players have to spend their action economy on protecting themselves or helping their allies. If they find themselves in a Zone of Nasty, it should force a decision between suffering the consequences to continue optimal play, or spending resources to get out of it.

Our boy Ozyas had a Cancer Field that he could move slowly around the arena that damaged and debuffed PCs inside it, and Pretender-God-Piercing Strike, a telegraphed line attack that oneshot anything that stayed in its area too long (more on this one later).

KEEP THEM WORKING Everyone needs a job to do! This job is probably just going to be based on what their class and abilities encourage them to do, but it sucks for someone to not be able to meaningfully participate in a boss fight.

Let the DPS players kick the boss's teeth in, obviously, but make sure the person who focused on AoE effects has some extra enemies that they can deal with. Bonus points if the extra enemies have something that forces them to be dealt with instead of just rushing the boss' HP bar.

Worst case scenario, throw in a secondary objective like completing a ritual, controlling a point on the map, or fighting the boss' soul on a higher plane to give someone who isn't immediately needed for DPS to still have something to do.

Ozyas spawned a bunch of extra monsters from these gross Birthing Pillars around the map, and killing the monsters and destroying the pillars provided a nice secondary course of action for people either not equipped to slug it out with the boss or not currently positioned right to fight him.

KEEP THINGS CHANGING The tarrasque sucks because it does one thing over and over until it works or it dies. The Theros splatbook improved on this marginally: Mythic Traits are fucking baller! Combats should change over the course of the fight, or this could have been a fucking autobattler. But we can go further.

In addition to occasionally shaking things up based on health thresholds, here's a few ways I like to do it:

Rotating list of effects that change every round

Huge list of options the boss can choose from for one of their effects with no repeats

Some sort of meter that increases and decreases based on what's happening in the fight and modifies the boss' abilities

Ozyas summoned new monsters every round and could customize the statblocks with a bunch of quick templates I whipped together, and in his second phase he started alternating between scaling the to hit/damage of his tentacle attack, the reach of his spear attack, and applying extra buffs to his summons.

REWARD GOOD PLAY These next two kind of tie together but the core idea here is that it's okay if a boss is a bit easy, as long as it makes your players work for it.

This can include things like ways to trivialize certain parts of the encounter as long as the players utilize them, typically at the cost of advancing other parts of the fight.

I knew that Ozyas was going to be a long fight, so I gave my players the ability to heal to full health, as an action, whenever they wanted. They were fighting inside Ozyas' body, and he was a generous host. However, any time they healed, he would be healed for the same amount. They got around this restriction by hitting him with Chill Touch to disable his own healing whenever people needed to heal, but that obviously had the cost of losing two actions' worth of damage output.

Towards the end of the fight, everyone was still standing thanks to that healing, but as he began to infinitely scale his stats once he reached his second phase and started taking them seriously, they couldn't afford to waste turns healing anymore and the safety net they built up by healing earlier in the fight kept anyone in the party from dying.

PUNISH MISTAKES The range on D&D characters' HP pools and general survivability can be pretty broad. I like to give my bosses a reasonably-heavy hitting melee and some sort of light ranged attack to remind the backliners that they too can die. But there's a third kind of attack.

The great equalizer.

The One Hit Knock Out move.

These need to be telegraphed. There needs to be copious time to get out of the area, or to stop the boss from using it, or whatever the case may be. But any superboss should have a way to threaten any player on equal standing: a move that will always hit if its conditions are met, and puts them clean to 0.

Ozyas' OHKO was Pretender-God-Piercing Strike, where at the end of each turn he would wind up a spear thrust with enough range to hit across the entire map, targeting a 15-foot line through the nearest player. Neither he nor the line could move after that, and if you were still in that line at the start of his next turn, you were done.

It wasn't hard to avoid: just walk like 10 feet and don't get pushed back in by another enemy. They even lined it up to target some of his own allies sometimes. But it forced them to think about positioning and stay moving, and there were a few times where it aaaaalmost caught someone in the line. The prospect of Instant Death really does wonders to ratchet up the tension.

And now, finally, we come to the most important part:

MAKE IT A GAME D&D 5e likes to jerk off while fantasizing about being real. "Catherine what the fuck are you talking about?" What I mean to say is that D&D makes a fumbling attempt towards a more simulationist style of game, trying to distance itself from the fact that it is, in fact, a game. It tries to comport itself like reality, such that every part of its combat makes sense in-universe, and then immediately falls short because it can't be assed to indulge in actual simulationism.

It is my belief that if you're going to spend 4 hours fighting a boss, and one of the boss mechanics doesn't really make much sense as an in-universe concept but does make the boss more interesting and fun to fight, then that's a perfectly fine mechanic. Obviously finding some way to justify it is preferable, but my bosses prioritize good gameplay over verisimilitude.

The upcoming boss in my campaign has a feature which puts the fight on a ten-round time limit before he begins kicking substantially more ass than he was before (and the prior ass-kickery was indeed already substantial). If this is a desperate fight with his life and his dreams on the line, why doesn't he open with that? If this were a WOTC statblock, barring a mythic trait, that's exactly how it would work. But fuck that, because it would make the fight way less interesting! Now there's time pressure! And sure, the post-round-ten version of the boss is meant to be fled from, not fought, but if he's at a low enough HP it could instead make for an insane climactic finish!

I let my players see the whole statblock before the fight. We talk through all of its abilities, and I'll even point out some of the potential points of complexity and the big risks to watch out for. There's no in-universe justification for why the characters would know this (beyond, perhaps "you're exceptional adventurers and are good at evaluating your foes"): in fact, one of the quintessential examples of classical 5e metagaming is the Guy Who's Read the Monster Manual. I think that's fucking stupid, though. With open statblocks:

Features can be game-warpingly deadly without instantly incurring a TPK born of ignorance. OHKO moves don't feel fair unless the counterplay is known

The players can strategize around the ways in which the boss is going to change throughout the fight

It's fundamentally fair. Some GMs just wait X turns and then let the boss go down when it takes a big, impressive hit (and I fully respect people who do that! That's still more compelling boss design than 5e's normal schlock), but I personally like when numbers have meanings.

You can still hide some information (I like to black out the boss' Mythic Trait, and then only use it if the players stomp the fight too easily), and you can still tweak it to adjust the difficulty, with the difference being that your players know it's being adjusted and how so (which again comes back to my feelings of fairness).

A few other fun mechanics to toss in include stacking debuffs that trigger something horrible at some certain threshold, additional win conditions or lose conditions, and silly little minigames. One trick I particularly enjoy is having my players secretly vote between two or more bad outcomes, and punishing them even more if the vote is tied.

CONCLUSION Your mileage may vary, but I'm hoping at least some of the insights here were useful to you! I have a particular strain of undiagnosed mental illnesses that make me especially predisposed towards piloting huge convoluted intricate bosses with 1k+ word statblocks, and I'm lucky enough to have players who know their shit well enough to play around this bullshit. Find something that works for you and your players.

If you hate 5e combat and think this sounds like way too much work to be worth doing, go play something else, like Pathfinder or Lancer or (heaven forbid) a game that actually struggles to trace its lineage of inspiration back to D&D. Go to itch.io and find some game no one's ever played before, and toss the creator a bit of money. The only way we're making it out of these goddamn Mines of Phandelver is if people try something new from time to time.

On the subject of cool games with cool combat, bear with me as I shill for a friend real quick. If you want a game that cares less about combat as an abstract dick measuring contest and more about combat as a facet of violence and all that that entails, check out [BXLLET> by @rathayibacter.

And, finally, from the bottom of my heart, fuck WOTC. Your books aren't even worth pirating, and the Tarrasque can blow me.

[merlinmylove]

Arthur being in disguise or hiding (because villain of the week is trying to kill him) and he overhears what his own people think of his father

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Two guards speaking quietly about the new locked gates policy

“But The King says — “

“The child-slayer? I won’t listen to a word that man says — let the family pass”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Two peasant women gathering herbs

“The mad tyrant has ordered yet another attack on the druid community. A shame I say, most of my recipes come from them, and if he kills them all, how will the potion makers survive?!”

“He burned my aunt you know — she had no magic! She never studied, she knew no spells or anything, but she was a midwife. A woman with knowledge of herbs and how to best practice medicine — that was treason enough”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

A group of servants walking past him

“I was sweeping in Lord Alders chambers when he complained to Gaius about paying his secret tax again”

“A secret tax?”

“Yes! Apparently his wife, the Countess, knows magic and The King allows it! Lord Alders pays him a handsome sum a year so his wife gets to keep her head on her shoulders. His estate you know, is next to the river and we need fish to eat”

“So The King allows a noble woman to live because her estate is of convenience to the kingdom?! All-while my father, a shoemaker, lost his head for knowing how to read druidic? The Hypocrisy!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

A drunk father grieving in the tavern

“My boy was only five summers old! He didn’t know how to read his own name, let alone study magic! But still, he was to hang”

“But why? What was his crime?”

“He was playing in the field with the other boys, and the wheat made him sneeze and suddenly his hair changed and became blue. He didn’t even realise what happened until the others pointed it out. Apparently, there was no need for a trial. He was guilty…

A little boy had to hang because of one moment, one spark of something he must’ve been born with because he never learned, and The Rotten King tied a noose around his neck.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Arthur returning home safely after Gaius was able to identify the poison the attackers used

“May I ask where you found this information?”

“In one of my books, my lord. Here, I belive you read from this when Merlin drank from the poisoned chalice.”

He flips through the pages haphazardly before releasing

“But this is a book of magical poisons and plants!”

“Well yes sire…how else would I be able to recognise the symptoms?”

Arthur thinks back to the woman who was arrested last week for having a book on magical plants. She was deemed a witch and a traitor with clear intentions of killing the royal family, and was subsequently burned alive

“So the information is useful in your hands, but traitorous in anyone else’s?”

“It’s just a book Arthur. What one chooses to do after reading it, is entirely up to oneself”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Arthur needs some time to think

Maybe Merlin could help…

[solargeist]

Can Xelqua use his powers to avoid Grian’s Eyes? I’m imagining Xelqua getting mad at Grian or Grian getting mad at him and so Xelqua runs away for a bit and Grian panics because he can’t use his Eyes to find his kid

Oooooh ! Thats a funny idea, tho i always imagine the Eyes as like... spectator mode..? So Grian would have to already sorta know where Xelqua is to find him with the Eyes. Weird eyes just zooming around the map, x-raying, night vision....

Xelqua doesn't exactly know what hes doing with his Watcher powers, a lot of it comes just from his emotions since he's so young. If he's upset enough, maybe he can block Grian's eyes with his own ? Maybe ? He definitely has more than him.

Typically when Xelqua is upset with Grian, he'll tattle to Mumbo, or any close Hermit, its usually quite childish !

Grian has gotten really good at not getting mad at Xelqua--at least not showing it. This was different in the beginning of course, before he adjusted. Back in season 9 he'd often get annoyed with him and overwhelmed then. Which... I think could be a fun turning point in their dynamic.. Grian and Xelqua getting mad at each other, Grians exhausted and just not in the mood to go play outside or whatever, he snaps and uses the Good Ole "Because I said so !" argument towards Xelqua. Xelqua stomps his little feet and goes off to pout while Grian sighs heavily in a chair, he does feel way over his head, he really has a kid now ? He's practically still one himself ! Sorta, it feels like it sometimes.

Xelqua would gather courage while he's pouting, Grian doesn't ever let him go out, its not fair, he's always busy and rarely funny. Xelqua quietly goes out the door as soon as he hears Grian go to the bathroom or something.

Xelqua is not quick, he has tiny legs, he doesn't make much of a distant, but he's small, so he disappears quickly behind or under things.

Grian's panic is amplified by his Watcher instincts, losing sight of something--of a child--its a suffocating feeling, no matter how he felt moments ago. His little house in s9 is surrounded by water, he hates using Watcher magic, but theres no choice here, little purple eyes shoot out in every direction as his mind imagines the worst possible outcomes. Xelqua immediately catches the feeling of Eyes and its scary ! So against his own will, his own Eyes block Grian's. (Which doesn't help Grian's panic at all) Xelqua's instincts will always protect him, he's small, he's 5 years old, but the Watcher part of his brain is still watching out for him. Even though Grian is no threat to him, the Eyes feel scary, so they have to be blocked.

When Grian finally spots Xelqua, he uses his wings to propel himself forward to scoop Xelqua up. Xelqua barely has time to react. Grian lands a few steps ahead, still frazzled and holding Xelqua in his hands, his worry pours out mistakenly as anger. Where have you been ? Don't you know how dangerous it is here ? Grian realizes he's accidentally shouting and bites his tongue. He lets go of Xelqua and hugs him instead, which is probably the first time he's held him so tightly before while on the ground. Xelqua doesn't really know how to react to this, he thought he was in trouble, but ..? A little confusing !

Xelqua had probably JUST found a Hermit too, who was patiently and politely trying to get him to stay still while they contacted Grian. They can tell from Grian's reaction that Xelqua was definitely lying and did not get permission to walk around by himself (what a surprise)

Seeing Grian so stressed out probably pushes a few Hermits to ~gently remind Grian that hey.... you know you can always text us when you need help with him... any time !! any ! time !

Its a turning point for their dynamic, and a learning experience for both

[cringe--is--dead]

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again?

Umemiya Hajime x Reader

You often heard the saying ‘time flies’ as a child, and you rarely found yourself believing it. Adulthood and the freedom you sought appeared so far away, and now, you realized how true that statement was.

It felt as if once you grew old enough to learn to balance freedom with responsibility, your aging never stopped. One moment you were a child, listening to fairy tales from your mother, and the next you were betrothed.

Your husband was a sweet man, he was kind and he made you happy. He was strong and fierce, and you, along with your country, saw and knew this. You had met at a party, hosted by some nobleman your family knew. There had been nothing romantic about it, the stories you fell asleep to spoke nothing of a man falling out of a tree mere inches in front of you.

You hadn’t even been able to feel anything other than panic— but luckily the worst he had was a sore back, and a bruised ego. Once your adrenaline had died down, the first thing you noticed was how blue his eyes were. The next was that his hair, as tangled with leaves as it was, was as white as the sugar cubes your older brother snuck for you.

That night of conversation led to more, and it felt like one day you woke up as the wife of Umemiya Hajime, the crowned ruler of Furin. Your meeting may not have been magical, but your wedding night had put stories to shame.

“Your Highness?”

You hummed, not tearing your eyes from where you were watching your daughter run around the garden, chasing a butterfly as the creature fluttered from flower to flower.

“Some of the suitors are requesting an audience with you, madame.”

Hajime had built this garden for you, every fruit grown was one of your favorites, every flower he had planted had meaning. Baby’s breath, red camellias, pink carnations, chamomile, white clovers, forget-me-nots. You had refused to ever plant anything else, the garden remained unchanged for years.

“Shall I turn them away?”

How you wished to say yes, to demand her to tell them to just leave. To take their sorry-hides and leave your kingdom, your land, your country, to never return. How you wished even more to tell them to gouge out their leering eyes, throw themselves into the sea they claimed took your husband.

Instead you stood, brushing your dress to lay flat, turning to your hear lady-in-waiting, sending her a small smile. “No, I shall see them.”

“Are you certain?”

For years men had come to your kingdom, your home, to request your hand. They acted as if the empty space in your bed was an opportunity for them, that the ring you still held onto was merely decorative. For years you turned them down, for years you held onto hope that your husband would return to you.

But men grew impatient, and your people became weary. You had to begin to entertain them, all the while your heart screamed for your husband, begged you to give him more time to return to you.

Your daughter, seeing you stand, left her butterfly hunt to rush over to you, the smile that matched her father’s painting her face. “We’re going inside now?”

You brushed her hair out of her face, the wavy curls that reminded you so much of Hajime, but the color that matched yours. Her smile was contagious, and you sent her one back, “Yes my dear. I believe you need a bath.”

At this, she made a face, cheeks puffed in an exaggerated pout. She hated bath time, she hated all the pampering she faced during and after. She was a free spirit, opting to play in the gardens. Hajime had left for war while you were pregnant, and the pair had never been able to meet, but every night since she was born you told her stories of her father. Of the man he was, the man he is.

You often woke in tears, dreams of your husband and daughter laughing in the gardens ringing in your ears. You only hoped one day they may come true.

“Now,” You turned back to your lady, “Have them gather in the foyer, refuse them any wine or ale they ask of, however. I don’t wish for any of them to be drunk when hearing what I have to offer.”

“Of course, my lady,” She bowed, heading inside, the worry in her eyes apparent.

Your daughter tugged your hand, “When can I have wine and ale?”

At this, you laughed, reaching to bring her to your chest, “Not for a long time my dear, I highly doubt you would enjoy them.”

She grumbled as the pair of your made your way inside, unknowing of the pair of eyes that tracked the two of you moving.

You had a small group of women working for you that you trusted with your life, of women you knew were faithful to you, and you alone. Years ago that number had been larger. You handed your daughter off to them, cited to have her bathed and ready for her afternoon nap, as unhappy as she was about this plan.

You took a moment for yourself, steeling the courage you needed. You held power, you could command armies worth of men should you need it, but you so often felt afraid without the comfort of your husband with you. But you refused to show this to these men. Once your main lady returned to you, you made your way where the entourage was awaiting you.

The doors opened, and whatever conversations that had been had paused. All eyes were on you, and you felt your skin crawl at the disgusting thoughts you could feel pouring towards you. But you kept your head high as you walked, making your way to the front.

You said nothing as you took your seat, refusing to stand when speaking to anyone. They didn’t deserve that, half of them hadn’t even waited for you to give birth to your daughter before showing up, seeking your hand, claiming your husband had no doubt perished at war.

“I suppose you all have waited long enough,” Was how you began speaking, pausing to allow the sneers and jeers to echo the room.

“I propose a challenge for all those still wishing for the throne, all those aiming for my hand.” Your left hand brushed your hair from your face, aiming to show how you still adorned your wedding ring, a challenge in itself.

“My husband had made many allies for us, and these allies are tough, formidable men. I have reached out to many, and have since then received my answers.” With a nod of yours, the side doors were opened, and more men filled in. For them, you stood, walking towards your husbands allies— his friends— to greet them.

“Shishitorin has been Furin’s closest allies for years, and have been a reason we have been able to hold our own against opponents who came to steal power. The only man who has ever held his own against their own leader, was my husband. No man had ever come close.”

It was a rare sight to see Togame serious, but it was even more rare to see Choji without his smile. Their letters in response had read serious, and you knew they wished to do what they could to ensure these suitors were unable to get their hands on you— or the throne.

They looked ready to kill, as did the rest of their men that arrived with them. They would play nice, as Choji stated in a letter, for you and your daughter.

“If any man can defeat their five strongest fighters, including Sir Togame and Sir Tomiyama, then they have proven themselves worthy for the throne, for the crown, and my hand.”

It appeared simple in writing, but you had been there when Furin and Shishitorin had begun their companionship. You had witnessed the blood shed, the tears, and the pain that came, and had been privileged to witness the relationship that came after. Had it not been for their strength for you to fall back on, you worry grief would have had you years ago.

“May the most worthy man win,” You nodded at the group of men, turning to nod at the guests, before taking your leave.

Murmurs broke out behind you, and for once, you heard the worry in the voices of the suitors. It filled you with a level of vindication you hadn’t known one could feel.

You knew there were very few men able to win five consecutive fights against Shishitorin’s strongest fighters, even if there was nothing on the line. But now your friends were armed with the determination to ensure your husbands place remained untouched, you felt strongly that no one would even come close to winning.

Despite the confidence you had in your friends, your heart still hammered, and you couldn’t fight the tears that filled your eyes. Silently sobbing was something you had long since mastered, you refused to appear weak in front of the men who had taken residence in your home, show fear to your daughter who looked up to you so.

You took a moment to collect yourself, eyes screwed tight as you willed the inevitable headache to leave you be. Knowing it was unavoidable, you continued down the hall, making your way to your daughter’s room. To no surprise, she wasn’t asleep.

“My dear,” You sighed dramatically, making your way to her bed, “I told you a growing girl needs ample rest.”

“I’m not tired!” The same old song and dance, truly.

“No? You woke so early this morning,” An exaggerated yawn left your mouth, “Even I find myself in need of an afternoon nap today.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, “You can nap with me, then. I guess that’s fine.”

“How gracious of you, my little princess,” You shifted to lay beside her, allowing her to move to lay so her head was on your chest, ear against your heart.

It was quiet for a bit, your fingers carding through her hair. At one point, you had thought she’d fallen asleep.

“Mama?”

You hummed, “Yes, my dear?”

“Am I ever going to meet daddy?”

It may have been less painful had she plunged a dagger into your chest, but you schooled that pain, your hand continued to brush through her hair, “You will, little princess, one day.”

“But when?”

“I don’t know,” Admitting that felt the same as admitting defeat, but you couldn’t lie to her.

She was quiet for another moment, “Do you think he’ll like me?”

That was enough to give you pause, and you moved her to look at you, noting the tears in her eyes.

“He loved you the moment I told him I was pregnant with you,” You brushed the first tear that fell away, “He often spoke to you in my belly when you moved around in the morning, he sang you lullabies every night, even before your ears had begun to form.”

You tickled the tips of her ears, her little giggles easing the ache in your chest, “He cried more than I did when he had to leave before you were born. He promised you, the day he left, he was fighting for me, and for you. He promised nothing would stop him from returning to us, that he’d destroy anything nature sent his way— every storm, every whirlpool. He’d even fight the gods should he have had to.”

“Is that where he is? Fighting gods?”

“Perhaps, or perhaps he’s commanding the storms to bring him home to us, and clouds aren’t the greatest with directions.”

She smiled, but it dimmed after a second, chewing her lip before speaking, her voice quiet, “Some of the men here said he was dead… said you were in- in denying that he was dead. They said I need a dad, that you need a King.”

The hatred you had in your heart originally swelled, and you felt anger eat at your heart, and she continued, “But I knew they were liars! I have a dad, and when he’s back they’ll have to leave!”

“That’s right,” You smiled at her, a forced feeling, “Now, my dear, a nap will do us both well.”

She laid down, her eyes fluttering shut soon after. You felt yourself drift off with her, the feeling of anger still fresh in your chest. You hadn’t realized how tired you were, until you were woken hours later. The sun had begun setting, the sky a bleeding red. Your heart was hammering, and you were holding your daughter close to your chest. Blinking blearily, you stared at the bedroom door. Why had you woken so afraid?

A muffled scream echoed throughout the building, and that gave you enough answer. Your daughter was half-awake, and you held her tight to your chest. The door was flung open, and your ladies rushed in, panicked looks on their faces.

“What is—”

“One of the men has gone mad,” One of them whispered to you, tone frantic, “The others were conspiring, ma’am, they were— they planned to—” Her eyes flickered to your daughter, but her message to you was clear as day.

The man had grown tired of waiting it seemed, perhaps some had gone to fight and lost, and they decided to act on their own accord.

“Shishitorin—”

“They took up arms against many of the suitors, but we came to find you, you two must hide,” Her eyes were frantic as she tugged at the two of you.

Your heart was hammering, your palms sweaty as you held your daughter to your chest. She had no idea what was happening, but her grip on your dress was tight.

You left your daughter’s room, taking up in a small room, one you recalled your husband saying was to only be used when necessary. Unfortunately, that necessary was here. You were all huddled close, your daughter, naturally, the most protected. You’d kill any man who entered that room before they touched her, and you would ensure if you died trying you wouldn’t be the only one.

Your dedication ladies were around you, ready to sacrifice themselves for you. But you prayed to whoever may be listening that shouldn’t happen. Hours crept by, slow as the sap that dripped in the garden during the springtime. There were screams and yells, the sound of gurgling and people choking on, what you assumed, was their own blood.

The silence that followed it all was deafening. None of you moved, no one shifted. You heard it then, a muffled call of your name. You felt the women around you tense, but you sat straight, “That’s Choji.”

Still weary, you ensured your daughter was safe in their arms before you stepped outside, clutching tight to a dagger you had grabbed on your way out the door.

“Choji?”

The shorter man looked frenzy, hair disheveled, blood on his clothes. But he was smiling— his eyes looked watery.

“Choji— are you—”

“He’s back,” He rushed to you, hands gripping your forearms, “Umemiya’s back.”

It was a blur, really, after Choji uttered those words. The night had shifted, darkness surrounding the walls of your home. Your daughter was whisked away, exhausted but placated by whatever you had said to her in a daze. You found yourself alone in your bedroom, as you had found yourself so many times before. It felt different now, and your wrapped your arms around you, an attempt of soothing yourself.

The door opened, and you couldn’t stop the wild beating of your heart. You turned only partly, looking at the man who entered. He wore your husband’s face, at least what you had assumed your husband would look like after eight years. This time of seasons, it was almost nine years.

He was taller than you recall, or perhaps it was how he held himself. His hair was longer, the ends curling almost identically to your daughter’s. His eyes, the same shade of blue as the ocean, were far sadder than you could ever remember.

“Is it really you?” Your voice was a whisper, but it echoed loud in your chambers, “I’ve often dreamt of you coming home to us, and I must admit each waking moment is more painful than the last.”

He stepped forward, and you couldn’t stop the step back, mirroring his closeness. The pain in his eyes intensified, and your resolve cracked some.

“Every time you reach to touch me I wake up, if this is another dream I’d wish to stay in it as long as I’m able.” He nodded slowly at your explanation, eyes staring at you, as if he was as afraid to look away as you were, “You look far different than you have when you’ve visited me in my dreams. You’d always great me with a smile.” Your voice cracked as you spoke.

He looked pained at this, and his shoulders tensed, looking as if he were hunching in on himself, “I’m not the same man I was when I left you.” His voice was quiet, deeper, but the same voice you wished to hear for years.

“I’m… different now, I’m afraid. War was not kind, and the journey home, my journey to you was unforgiving.” He swallowed hard, eyes pleading as he looked at you, “I’m not the man you took as your husband, and I’m afraid you won’t be able to love me as you did before.”

“Your journey took six years longer than you promised,” You all but whispered towards him, hands trembling as you fidgeted with your ring, “There was talk that you had died.”

He shook his head, “I had to come back to you, to— to our child. Nothing would have stopped me, not even death herself. She tried though,” His voice was thick, “I watched many men die, I took… so many lives. Their blood stains my hands, no matter how much I bathe.”

He looked at his palms, as if searching for the stainage.

“When I returned there were so many men here. They spoke vilely of you,” The words left his lips like poison being spat, “They spoke of your body as if it were a prize they sought after, one they would’ve taken if it were not given. Their fight with Shishitorin was a genius move on your end, my love.”

He smiled at you at that, and the tears that had been building spilled over. That smile had haunted your dreams and nightmares alike for years. And now it was here, mere feet in front of you.

“But they grew angrier. I wished to plot my arrival to be less dramatic, but the threats they spoke of. I’m only a man,” He closed his eyes, holding his breath for a moment before looking back at you, “They cannot, and will not, ever harm you. Look at you. Or speak of you again. Years ago, the blood staining our home would have had me feeling guilty, but now I see it as a means to an end. I fear my hearts turned cold, it’s closed in my time away. I fear your husband doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Doesn’t exist?” He nodded at your whispered question, a shameful look on his face.

You turned away from him, the tears still steadily falling down your cheeks. The garden, your garden, stood as pristine as it had earlier, the cherry blossom tree standing in the middle, her branches swaying peacefully in the night wind.

“If you wish to prove you’re still my husband, or worthy of being so,” Your voice was thick as you spoke, your nose stuffed, head throbbing, “Then I shall give you a task as I have the others.”

“Anything for you.” The sincerity in his voice was borderline painful.

“I wish for you to uproot the garden outside,” You didn’t turn as you spoke, “My husband planted all types of flowers years ago, said there was meaning behind them. I have never met another man who understands the language flowers hide as he, and I have done my own research.”

Truth of the matter was you had found the notes your husband scribbled years ago, lists of flowers and their meanings, which ones he felt for you and which one he swore he’d never even look at.

“Indifference. Refusal. Disappointment. Resignation. Stupidity.” You forced a mirthful chuckle, “All things I fear my husband felt for me. Towards me.”

There was silence, not even the sound of breath other than yours. For a moment, you were terrified he had left the room, and you turned.

He was crying, silent tears falling down his face as he stared at you. Anger was written in his eyes, but he didn’t move, wasn’t even looking at you anymore. His gaze had matched yours, looking at to the garden and all her loving plants.

“For you to even suggest that—” He took a breath, his cheeks red.

“Everlasting love, the flame of my heart, an oath to never forget you, promised twice, patience, a wish for you to think of me, and only of me.” His voice grew louder as he spoke, “I had wished to plant hibiscus bushes under our window, but the scent made you sick while you were pregnant, and you told me on our wedding night that roses were too simple to express our relationship.”

He turned to you, the bright fury behind his eyes unleashing a storm of emotion. “I’d have burnt any flower, any tree, any bush that even suggested I thought such awful things about you.”

You stepped towards him, your chest bubbling with anger, with sorrow, love, pain— everything you had kept in for eight years.

“And the only man who knew all this was the man I married,” You were in front of him now, his faces inches from yours, “So I suppose that means you’re still him.”

The anger wavered for a moment, before you watched his face crumble. The silent tears turned into ragged breaths, and you stood tall, the pain in your chest aching to join him.

“I fell in love with you, and I have never stopped loving you. Time, distance— nothing will ever stop those feelings. Do not come into our bedroom and state I won’t love you as much as I did all those years ago, as much as I do now.”

“I have waited eight long years, alone and worried, but as in love with you as I was when we were first married. I was waiting for my husband, for you,” You poked at his chest, the first contact you had with him for eight years, “You absolute idiot.”

You weren’t sure who broke first, but the sobs causing your breath to hiccup broke free. His arms were around you, and you were weeping into his shoulder, as he was in yours. He was as warm as you recalled all those years ago, as solid as ever. He held you, as if he was terrified you’d move too far from his reach if he gave you the space to do so. You held him back equally as tight, if not more.

“My dear, how I have missed you.” He whispered against your hair, and the warmth of his lips against your forehead brought forth a fresh wave of tears.

“I knew you’d return,” You pulled back, cupping his cheeks, staring at the man you had loved for nearly a decade and a half.

He pulled you forward, crushing you into a kiss. His lips were rough, you could almost feel every crack in his skin against your own. But you melted into his embrace like it was your first kiss all over again. It was messy, both your cheeks still wet from your tears. You held each other, lips molded into one until you both had to pull back to breath, panting in each others space.

“We have a daughter?”

You laughed, broken and whole all at once, “Yes. She acts so much like you, I nearly named her Hajimia.”

He made a face, “Please tell me she isn’t named that.”

You shook your head, “No, Fumiko.”

Hajime echoed your laughter, just as wet and unbridled as yours, “Hibiscus.”

“I told her stories of you every night,” You traced a scar on his forehead, cutting straight through his eyebrow, “She already adores you so much.”

He grabbed your hand in his, the palms rougher and more calloused, but as warm and protecting as ever. He brought your knuckles to his lips, a kiss pressed against them, “And I already adore her, I did the moment she was conceived.”

“You fought nature and men’s deadliest armies to return to her, to me,” You pressed forward, your face in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat was music to your ears, “I love you. I never stopped.”

He took a shuddering breath, “I love you.”

a/n: so I whipped this out in one sitting, sat here and wrote for like 2 hours straight. if you can’t tell I’m a little Epic obsessed. I don’t even know if this is good or not!

[the-gateway-to-madness]

Platonic dynamics I want to see more in the (tiny) Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons fandom:

Jack being like an older brother to Hiccup and sort of seeing an older version of Jamie in him and not scoffing at how nerdy he is ("holy crap you MADE this? Man show me how it works!!")

Rapunzel post-her-movie being all gung-ho and cheery, and Merida trying to get her to stop being so naïve, only for Rapunzel to calmly list all the ways she was betrayed and abused throughout her adventures (and you'd only have to go through the canon events of the movie and show to make this work, btw, girl's been through STUFF) and tells Merida she is upbeat and kind because she chooses to believe that most people are good, because so many people stuck with her through so much and so many people came back to her after betraying her. And Merida is like "well dang ok, wanna learn to shoot a bow"

Jack being calm, responsible, and protective of the others without becoming too angsty in the process- playing harmless little pranks to bring everyone's spirits up, that sort of thing

Merida being annoyed by Jack at first, but it's because she misses her brothers, not because she categorically dislikes the pranks. She tells Jack this and he asks her to join him doing pranks. She has much more fun after this.

Rapunzel is good at many things, but not so much inventing, as we see in TTS; her trying to assist Hiccup and him being good-natured about it but entirely accidentally outclassing her

Jack very deliberately keeping his past and loneliness to himself, and the others figuring out something's off because they never catch him sleeping, he's pensive when he's not interacting with them, he's got such wide and extensive experience, and he starts admitting bits and pieces like "I'm older than I look" etc etc

Jack never openly getting angry with the kids because they're kids and he's a Guardian, so instead when one of them is upset or trying to pick a fight with him, his staff will glow brighter or it'll get cloudier or windier or snowier- his magic responds, but Jack refuses to, making his calm all the more scary.

Jack being the first to realize Rapunzel has been through Stuff and sitting down with her when the other two are asleep "what happened to you?" entirely gently and patiently because HE'S A GOOD BIG BROTHER DANGIT I WANT THIS SIDE OF HIM TO SHOW MORE-

Hiccup worrying/getting upset/doing that I Have To Stand Alone thing and Rapunzel approaching him like "you're not the only one who grew up alone, you know. It's okay to rely on us, we won't let you down"

Hiccup doing the I Have To Stand Alone thing in general cause I don't see that a lot in crossovers or at least the arts

The others finding Jack in weird places because super-balance go brr

Jack being reluctant to touch any of the kids for any reason because he doesn't want to see the way they treat him change once they realize how cold and inhuman he really is

Merida recognizing Jack immediately as the only other obviously competent fighter by the way he moves (she was raised around all manner of warriors and guards, after all) and immediately setting about allying herself with him because Heaven knows they all need as much protection as they can get

Merida helping Hiccup to have a moment like he has in the HTTYD books where he realizes he's actually a really amazing swordfighter when he actually uses his dominant hand

Hiccup and Rapunzel asking Merida and Jack what siblings are like

Jack just treating them all like his little siblings

Jack and Merida gathering ingredients together and, depending on the region, Jack teaching Merida the safe local vegetation and herbs because he's been everywhere. Also, Jack teaching the others how to cook with local ingredients

Jack knowing a lot about herbal medicine and helping and teaching the others

After much internal deliberation, Jack choosing Hiccup to hold his staff while he takes care of two-handed tasks

Jack knowing how to style hair because of Mary, and he and Merida helping Rapunzel tame her hair

[tothepointofinsanity]

I have always been a little confused by something: What exactly dictates the power of a magical girl? I understand why Madoka is as powerful as she is, but what makes Kyoko, Mami and Homura more powerful than Sayaka (who has been confirmed the weakest)? If Madoka is powerful because she's the primary goal behind Homura going back in time, shouldn't Sayaka be too (to a lesser degree ofc) if only because her acts affect Madoka so much? Could it be that the impact of a wish plays a part in it too? Or maybe it's just "luck" in a way?

Hello, I suppose it is a matter of various circumstances…truthfully, I am not too certain about this question. According to QB, it seems that some girls have more “magic potential” than others based on their karmic destiny, but the wish definitely has to do with what kind of powers you will be bestowed, and undeniably there will be some powers more cracked than the others. Homura wasn’t a strong magical girl when she started out, but her power, to rewind and stop time, is very much game-breaking once she mastered it.

Meanwhile, Kyoko and Sayaka both made wishes for others, but Kyoko has been in the magical girl field far longer than Sayaka, and though her power is tacky (chains and speared fences), she learns to utilise it effectively. Her power is tied to her wish as well, which has more to do with “binding” thanks to her religious background. Sayaka’s power has to do with healing, which is powerful when we see her go up against Holy Mami and how quickly she recovers from Kyoko, but self-healing isn’t comparable to something like rewinding time on Homura’s scale. Mami’s powers in of themselves aren’t considered inherently “strong” at first glance considering she just manifests ribbons and guns, which you would wonder how she could even synergise both features, but she learned to do so, which is how she effectively managed to clear witches, and is one of the more experienced magical girls in general. So while you cannot 100% determine your power when you make a wish, learning to use your power however bizarre and unconventional it may be in a way best suited for you is part of being recognised as a strong magical girl.

I think you could make any wish you want, though you need to gather massive karmic destiny in order to execute it (as seen with Madoka), which would also scale with your power…One thought I had about why Sayaka is so weak compared to other puella magis is because she always perishes the fastest compared to everyone else, so by the time Homura rewinds time, Madoka is once again the centre of the rewind, not Sayaka…Since it appears that the point in time in which Homura dials back is more important than whoever else are associated with Madoka (in terms of karmic destiny accumulation), especially if they are no longer with either of the main duo when Walpurgisnacht is felled. It’s just that overtime, it seems that the main cast around Madoka were strung tighter and tighter because it plays out the same way more often than not, instead of before where these girls would have been more scattered across the timelines.

This is just my speculation though, and I think it is pretty inaccurate…if anyone could educate me on this, I would be glad. Thank you for the ask ^^…

[readychilledwine]

A Dance With Danger

Rhysand Week Day 6 - Worlds Axis

Summary - Dance with Danger - Learning the High Lord's secret has you on the run. Too bad he found you in the place you least expected

Warnings - setting up predator/prey play without touching the smut point, evil Rhysand theory *like way evil*, Liz used her favorite line from the bad Rings of power series, cliffs (in a couple of senses), threats, implied mention of the Winter Court incident

A/N - Happy Day Six of @officialrhysandweek ! I'm kind of excited about this little guy and what I could do with him. That hasn't happened in a while 👉👈 lemme know whacha think?

✨️Rhysand Week Masterlist✨️Rhys Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

You were caught, and you knew it, but that didn't stop you from running, from using every tree as cover.

In reality, it was his own fault you had discovered this long hidden family secret. This constant ink smear on his father's family tree. Azriel had trained you far too well as a spy, Rhysand had trained you in too much detail as a researcher. You were too smart, and he had welcomed you in far too easily.

You had been running from him for over a week and a half now. Staying in animal forms until today when you somehow ended up in a different place while attempting to shift onto a new creature. You had a feeling where you were, but you continued to force him to chase just praying you were wrong.

He would blame that on your beautiful smile, on those innocent wide eyes, and the soft naivety in your voice. It didn't change his anger as he tracked you through the forest in Illyria. You had tried winnowing, but it was as if he'd already done something to you. Something that was keeping you trapped within the Night Court.

Nowhere was safe.

And it was almost your own fault for making it that way.

That smear in the family tree, that blurred name you had been stupid enough to unveil, was just the beginning. From that discovery, you'd learned through your shifting powers far more than Rhysand wanted you to. You should have left it alone, ignored that first eavesdropped conversation, but you know what they say"

Curiosity killed the cat.

You have learned his marriage to Feyre was fake. The bond was manipulated through magic. Magic he had planted to ensure she came to be by his side, and there would be no one powerful enough to stop him.

His death at the Cauldron had been planned. A way for him to gather pieces of life force from the other High Lords while also stealing some from a hysterical Feyre.

Nyx had been planned. A way to get Nesta to give her powers back to the Cauldron.

And Elain, poor Elain. The female had no clue what Rhysand and the Inner Circle had in mind for her. At least, if they could get her to reject the bond.

Rhysand had the very world itself playing in his hand, exactly how he wanted it. Thousands to bow to his feet, to worship him, and you now had the potential to jeopardize everything.

You continued running, lungs burning from the icy mountain air. He knew if he didn't catch you, you would die out here. You were so deep into the mountains that only he and his brothers could get you back at this point. Yet you still pushed on. Unknowingly irritating him further as a loud snarl tore through the woods near you.

It amazed you the level he had gone to in order to accomplish his plans. Collecting the most powerful beings in the land, placing them in his back pockets, and never looking back as he slowly began dismantling the other courts of Prythian one by one.

Spring had been a test. A successful one to prove to him that all High Lords had a price. A breaking point. He'd all but destroyed Tamlin with, as you had overheard him telling his brothers, “an only half decent cunt.” He knew the rest were weak as well.

Tarquin was naive. A spy already planned in his home.

Beron was prideful. His executor sleeping soundly in the bedroom near his.

Kallias was a new Father. Vulnerable. Emotional. Rhysand wasn't above killing children. He had already shown that.

Thesan was too smart to see anything coming. He believed the world was figured out. He believed he had the other courts figured out.

And Helion, loving, kind hilarious Helion? He'd follow Lady Autumn in her death is something…. Mistakenly happened to her.

Rhysand was cruel. He was the monster of legend he was made out to be.

And he was growing closer to you with each breath, each step, each beat of your heart.

A wrong turn ended the chase as you stared face to face with a cliff. The fall would be brutal, and you felt hope leaving you as you tried to think of any other way to escape.

“Well, little mouse, looks like you are out of options,” that feline line voice was enough to make to turn, facing your former friend and boss with neutral features.

“Rhysand.”

“At least you know your place. Only my-”

“Enemies and prisoners call you Rhysand. Yes, I've heard you use the same old line many times.”

One step back, one forward.

“What all do you know, Mouse?”

You didn't bother staying silent, watching as he began one step forward, and you one step back. “I know your plan to have all of Prythian under your thumb within the next year. To collapse the courts so quickly that no one can stop you.”

He began circling you like prey, gaze almost sad as he appreciated you one last time. You continued with a deep breath, “I know you planted the mating bond on Feyre through magic. That you are using her and her sisters. Who, you, actually sold out and paid Hybern to say was Ianthe's doing.”

He chuckled but didn't deny it. “And I know you are a quarter daglan.”

That made him stop, nodding slowly as he processed what you had said, “So, in summary, you figured out everything.” He circled you again, a look of disappointment beginning to show. “I had hoped to make something of you. To slowly bring you to my side and my web. Do you know how rare you are? How rare those precious powers of yours are given? Tamlin can't even take different forms as seamlessly as you can.”

One step forward.

One step back.

“I don't want to have to kill you, little mouse. Let's make an agreement?”

You shot him a look instantly, “What kind?”

“You join my Inner Circle, sworn to silence on all of this information, and I will still give you what I planned to. So long as you keep quiet and continue doing as you are told.”

One step forward.

One back that led to him grabbing you by your elbow, balance slipping as you began to hang over the edge.

“I can see your greatness, y/n. The power inside of you aching to be set free. I can give that to you. I can give you the true place by my side once this is all said and done.”

Had your eyes not already been wide, they would have been now, “You would make me a tyrant.”

Rhysand only smirked, flawless face no longer hiding the evil that lurked beneath his skin like a disease, “No. I would make you a queen. One worshiped from land to sea. One thought to be as powerful as the Mother herself. You just have to say yes before my grip slips.”

He let his grip go a second, catching you at your mid-forearm. A perfect brow arched as you looked down, panicking as you realized how high you truly were about to fall from.

“Not high enough to die,” he confirmed casually. “High enough to maim and leave you here bleeding out.” His grip loosened again, catching your lower forearm, “Either way, I get rid of a problem. Your choice.”

Your heart was threatening to pound out of your chest as your eyes met his calm ones. “I planned all of this as well, by the way. I really thought you would have fallen for Azriel's charm, but alas, you didn't.” He seemed almost bored as he held your life within one of his hands. “Azriel warned me he wasn't your type and that I could only fake what you and I both know if actually between us for so long.”

His grip slipped, laughing as you screamed and he caught your wrist, “I had hoped you would be a smart little mouse and come to me instead of running when I made sure you learned everything, but those damn morals of yours. How pathetic for the Cauldron to have given me of all males such a righteous mate.”

That smirk turned feral as he realized you didn't know. His eyes began to almost glow with excitement. “Oh little mouse, you really are just a stupid thing, aren't you?”

His grip slipped once again, catching you by lacing your fingers in his, admiring how snug and perfect they felt together.

“Last chance, y/n. Agree to my terms or die.”

He was so cold to you. So uncaring. He hadn't expected your last move, you unlacing your own fingers from his. You making the choice without his input. You falling.

And the last thing you remembered was the cold air ripping your breath from your lungs before impact ever came.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[sallowtheories]

Is Sebastian's parents the reason Miriam found the portkey?

Yes, you read that right, and I actually believe that they were. I believe Sebastian and Anne's parents were the reason why, Miriam was able to find the portkey.

Now, you may wonder how I came to that conclusion. It was though a specific question, that I slowly pieced this idea together.

What did Sebastian's parents teach at Hogwarts?

It is never stated what Anne and Sebastian's parents taught at Hogwarts, but only that they died while the twins where still quite young, and before - as far as we know - they ever sat a foot on Hogwarts grounds themselves. All that we know about them was that they read and studied a lot, and passed the joy of learning and gathering knowledge onto their children. As Sebastian once stated to the MC, he reads whatever book he is handed - "That's what you get with professors for parents".

But that doesn't explain what they taught at Hogwarts.

That was then I remembered that during a conversation with professor Ronen, you learn that he had only been at the school as a professor for 7 years. That means that he started teaching Charms at Hogwarts in 1883, around which time Anne and Sebastian would have been 8 years old. Therefore it is not unlikely to believe that either Sebastian's mother or father taught Charms at Hogwarts.

But that only explains one of the parents.

I started digging a little further, checking if I could find out other things about the other professors and when they started teaching at Hogwarts, when I remembered something Sebastian once told the MC. When you tell Sebastian about your ability to see Ancient Magic, he asks a lot of questions, leading him to admidting that he has been studying "archaic magic". Which made me wonder; is that what his parents was trying to study as well?

Given what we know about Sebastian's somewhat obsessive nature, I wonder if this may have been his obsession before Anne got cursed - learning as much about whatever his parents studied. Books and text that was so interesting to read, that two magical parents with their kinds upstairs, didn't notice the fumes coming from their lamp? Would also explain where Sebastian got his inability to "stop" from...

Pushing aside how I believe it was Sebastian's first obsession with reading what his parents read, that drow the first wedge between him and his uncle, we will now have to focus on Solomon. Or more specificly, where Solomon is living - Feldcroft.

Now, we have no idea where Sebastian and Anne used to live with their parents. We don't know if they lived in Feldcroft close to Solomon, or maybe lived somewhere closer to Hogwarts. But what we do know is Solomon lived in Feldcroft. Where it was just after he decided to leave his job as an aura, or the place he and Sebastian's father grew up, we have no idea. But with Solomon in Feldcroft, we now have a connection between Sebastian's parents, and the place Miriam would find the portkey.

But what does that have to do with Miriam finding the portkey? How is Sebastian's parents involved?

In the beginning parts of the game, professor Fig tells the MC about something Miriam studied before she died - Ancient Magic. I have now played that scene through four times, and each time I notice the same thing - Miriam wanted to study the magic, not use it. She wondered if it could do good in this world. And each time, the same though came to me - "sounds like magical theory". And that was when I realized - professor Eleazar Fig is teaching Magical Theory.

We don't know when professor Fig to up the job at Hogwarts, but according to Harry Potter Wiki he had "(...) grown weary of his wife's quest and ended up settling into a comfortable teaching career whilst she continued her work on her own". So I wondered, was it possible that one of Sebastian's parents used to teach Magical Theory at Hogwarts?

Miriam was already known for traveling, but could some old notes left behind from the former teacher in Fig's office, eventually had led Miriam on the path to Feldcroft? We know it's in Feldcroft, at Rookwood castle that Lodgok would meet her, with the container that held the portkey.

Now, there's no straight on prove that Sebastian's parents knew anymore than anyone else in regards to the Keepers, the portkey or the powers of the Ancient Magic the MC is carrying. But in all of my years as a Harry Potter fan, I've learned one thing - nothing is a coinsidence. And the fact that Sebastian just so happens to live in the hamlet Isadora used to live in, and mere stone's throw away from Rookwood castle where the portkey and second trial is located, just seems to on the nose.

There's no doubt that Sebastian is tied closely to the history of Hogwarts Legacy, but I have a feeling that it may be more than one way, and that we may just have scratched the surface of what he, and his family might mean to this story.

[dungeonmastersconsortium]

Oh if you play magic: the gathering or are at all curious about it, PLEASE tune into my streams.

All my stuff is geared for people that have anywhere from no experience to people who feel like they're okay/competent/decently good at it. I feel like there's a lot of content out there like "HERE'S HOW YOU CAN TAKE YOUR BAD/OKAY DECK AND TURN IT INTO A MONSTER" but I don't wanna make that stuff

I wanna take new, curious, or inexperienced players and get them to the point where they can build their own decks without looking up how the "best players" are doing it. I wanna get curious people to see why I love the game, and why they might too. And I want to get people feeling confident enough that they understand the game enough to not stress about every play.

Even experienced players can watch me draft on Wednesdays and mercilessly drag me for my mistakes!

This isn't me begging for followers, subscribers, or viewers. My current viewers know I'm doing this as a hobby, not a revenue stream. I just want to share something I love with you and show you that you might love it too.

Mondays - Deckbuilding and Review! Got a deck you've built and want to make it better? Got a commander you wanna play but not sure how to build it? Got a theme you want to see if it works as a deck? Join the discord and submit requests and I'll do any of those TAILOR MADE for my viewers!

Wednesdays - MTG Arena draft or standard, or even VIEWER games! Watch me play magic, ask questions on how the game works, and learn about formats other than commander!

Fridays - variety! Join the discord and vote on what I do! I usually have other streamers as guests and often get wizard drunk while gaming! Sometimes my viewers even make me put on a full wizard outfit with channel redeems!

This isnt me begging yall to watch, but I would love to bring people curious about the game into more streams so they can ask questions and see if it's for them! Wonder if your fave fantasy tropes can be turned into a deck that you'd love to play? Tune in and I'll do it for you! If any of my current viewers have feedback or context you wanna add, feel free to reblog with additions!

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

What kind of relationship does Minerva have with Sophie? They seem close if she was willing to presumably risk her life by going against the king.

What a good question. Why would a maid, let alone a maid as high ranking as to serve the princess directly, risk everything including her life, to break the princess free? How close are these two?

Let me explain some things.

Well first I want to say that ‘Sophie’ Redwine is the character played by my friend @ouroborosorder. Before anyone made any characters she said she wanted to play a maid, I quickly decided I wanted to play a princess, and we both agreed to make our characters together. This was probably the most fun I ever had making characters and I cannot recommend highly enough doing collaborative character creation to make your characters have a connected backstory.

Sophistry ‘Sophie’ Redwine was a high ranking maid in the royal castle in the capital city of the Adret empire. She worked her way up from a lowly maid position all the way to becoming the personal maid of the princess, because she was really good at her job. Where she became a maid, her sister Aquila ‘Quill’ Redwine, became a knight. Quill quickly worked her way up to becoming a member of the most elite, secretive, and powerful knights of the kingdom; the Brocken Specters. As one of these elite knights, she was made to do many horrible, violent, and cruel deeds in service of the crown. After doing that for a few years, Quill realized she did not like it, and she wanted out. But this was a secretive order of knights, they wouldn’t just let her leave.

Her leader threatened that if she left or fled, they would kill her sister. They then began assigning her on more and more dangerous suicide missions. Each time she came back alive, with more rage burning inside her, and with her body more and more pushed to its limits and injured. Eventually she was assigned what was to be her final mission, a suicide mission no one would come back from alive, no matter how skilled. Quill went to see her sister one last time, and when she did she broke down and told her about the whole thing. Sophie proceeded to trick her (iirc she put something in her drink to knock her out), disguised herself as her sister, and went to die in Quill’s place. It was too late for Quill to stop her, and the only option she had left was to take her sister’s place and become a maid. She even had to attend a funeral for herself, in which everyone told her how great Quill was, and how her sacrifice for the empire would be remembered.

‘Sophie’ then lived her conflicted life, torn between wanting to live her life for her sister’s making her sacrifice worth something (and also hoping her sister might somehow live vicariously through her being the best ‘Sophie’ she could be) and between thinking her life was not worth living so that she must live for the sake of others. Regardless, she lived as ‘Sophie’ for a few years, then she witnessed as Minerva and her disagreement with her father escalated until Minerva became effectively imprisoned as punishment for defying her father. After serving Lady Minerva in her unofficial prison, for a while, whether out of pity, empathy, hope that Minerva might help her get revenge on the empire, a combination of the three, and/or some other reason entirely, she began to discuss with Minerva a plan to free her.

It took well over a year to research everything, gather materials, smuggle materials into Minerva’s living quarters, contact the black market underground magic Dollmaker, and prepare the ritual. But eventually ‘Sophie’, with her dark magic that she learned as a Brocken Specter, was able to perform the extremely risky ritual on Minerva that risked obliterating her soul, and successfully implanted it in full-sized porcelain doll (ordered to look exactly how Minerva wanted bc she’s a picky princess), which she then smuggled out of the kingdom.

Doing something like that together made them accomplices. (real Otherside Picnic fans know, being accomplices is the closest kind of relationship in the world)

Since then the two began traveling together, living freely but having a vague goal of a revenge quest. Eventually they met up with the other party members, and with shared short-term goals, they began traveling together to make up our ttrpg party!

But what kind of relationship do they have? I’ve been calling it a “yuri situationship.” They have a lot of yuri moments together, but they are not at all dating. Minerva does get jealous and possessive whenever Sophie looks at another woman though. They have a pretty close relationship as a noble lady and her devoted maid. Sophie attends to her needs and wants, even going so far as to use downtime busying herself unnecessarily with chores that ostensibly serve Minerva, even though Minerva would much rather she relax and/or spend the time with her instead. Many nights Minerva asks Sophie to sleep and cuddle with her, and Sophie typically obliges. Minerva would claim it’s because as a doll she doesn’t generate body heat but still finds being cold uncomfortable, which is true but she’s also just touch starved and insecure about having a cold, hard, rigid body that she thinks no know could ever actually want to cuddle with. She thinks Sophie only does it because she’s her maid and she’s essentially being forced to, but I don’t think Sophie sees it that way at all. They’re an amusing and odd couple and frankly I can’t wait to see how their relationship develops.

⚠️🔞Very NSFW text below🔞⚠️:

(And here’s the secret lore: Stemming from one incident during Minerva’s recovery progress, in which the binding of her soul to the doll body progressed to the point of making the sensation of her doll pussy made her kind of insatiable, a time in which Sophie caught her in the act. Instead of reprimanding her, Sophie offered to help her out. And that just sorta kept happening, now the two of them casually cuddle together sometimes, and on occasion Sophie fucks her brains out.)

[Extra secret lore: Minerva realized soon after becoming a doll that the idea of herself being a literal object, and being treated like nothing more than that, especially in contrast to her normal spoiled pampered life, was suddenly extremely hot to her. Also as a doll she doesn’t need to breathe, she cannot bleed or bruise, and she is even immune to dark magic bc of her being undead. Meanwhile Sophie has an ever burning hatred of the empire and now has one of its royals as her personal princess fucktoy that she can take her frustrations out on. It’s kind of a perfect match, i mean it’s probably not super healthy, but they both enjoy it . And then when they’re done the next day they go back to pretending there is nothing between them. They are not really very emotionally healthy people and refuse to talk to each other about what their relationship actually is.]

I’m very normal about these women 👍

[feliciasharpclaws]

✯ 𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑻 | enhypen hyung line

pairing: supernatural dads! enha hyung line x heretic mother! reader | vampires! sunghoon, jay and heeseung, hybrid! jake

synopsis: being a parent is challenging and living as a mother of four little hybrids and one tri-hybrid with four different fathers is difficult, especially if those parents are supernatural beings, but protecting the well-being of their children from a dark path is a challenge for this mother and her husbands.

warnings (not really): a non accurate version of supernatural beings (got based of tvd), mentions of young death (they all got turned at 20), witchcraft (duh.. she's a witch), intentional lowercase and bad grammar (i think).

a/n: i was thinking of the dark moon characters and jasper hale from twilight and this idea came up to me. i feel like i need to explain this cause it can get messy:

so sunghoon and reader have two kids park soo-jin and sun-woo which they are the oldest of the clan, they're 12; then we have jay and reader's 10 year old park ji-ae or jane. next we have jake's little 7 year old boy sim ji-ho and last but not least with lee hyo-ri which is heeseung and reader's 4 year old daughter.

the house was filled with laughter and screams of children as i tried to prepare dinner with a little of my magic. sunghoon, my vampire husband, was playing with our older children, soo-jin and sun-woo, in the living room. jay, another of my vampire husbands, was helping ji-ae, our 10-year-old daughter, with her math homework. jake, my hybrid, was in his wolf form playing with ji-ho, our 7-year-old tri-hybrid son, in the garden. and heeseung, my last vampire husband and father of our little hyo-ri, was sitting on the couch, reading a book while hyo-ri followed me with her eyes from her high chair.

it was a very common family scene, but with a small detail: all my children were destined to become vampires when they turned 20.

i remember when my loves told me they had been converted at 20, it seemed strange and a little terrifying, but then i remembered that i had also been converted into a heretic at 20, and over time i got used to the idea. now, as i watched my children play and laugh, i couldn't help but feel a mix of emotion and nervousness. what would their lives be like as vampires? how would their condition affect their relationships and dreams?

after dinner, the children went to bed and the parents gathered in the living room to discuss our plans for the future. sunghoon and jay were discussing the best way to teach the children to control their vampire powers when they awoke. jake was sitting on the couch, looking at heeseung, who was holding hyo-ri, who was sleeping in his arms. and i was sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers and pencils, trying to plan the witchcraft lessons for the children.

suddenly, sunghoon came over to me and kissed my forehead. "what are you doing?" he asked, looking at the papers. "i'm planning the witchcraft lessons for the children," i replied. "i want to make sure they're prepared for when they become vampires."

sunghoon smiled and sat down next to me. "you're an amazing mother," he said. "always thinking about the future of our children."

i blushed a little and looked at the other parents. "i'm not the only one," i said. "we're all working together to make sure our children are prepared for what's to come."

"i think we should start teaching the children about their vampire heritage gradually," said heeseung. "start with basic things, like the history of vampires and how to live in secret among humans."

sunghoon nodded. "yes, i think that's a good idea. the sooner they learn to control their powers, the better."

jake got up from the couch and came over to us. "do you think we should teach all the children at once?"

jay replied, "it would be best, sun-woo and soo-jin will be turning 13 soon, it would be better to teach them all at once."

we all agreed and began discussing the details of how to teach the children about their vampire heritage.

after a long discussion, we decided to start with basic things, like the history of vampires and how to live in secret among humans, as well as the importance of protecting their secret and how to do it without putting the humans around them in danger. heeseung offered to start teaching hyo-ri about her vampire heritage, since she was the youngest. sunghoon and jay offered to teach soo-jin and sun-woo, who were already a bit older and could understand more complex concepts. jake decided to teach ji-ho, since he was at an intermediate age and, being a tri-hybrid, needed to learn to control his powers. and i took charge of teaching jane, who was the most curious of all and always had questions about her vampire heritage.

we started teaching the children, and at first, it was really difficult. they had many questions and didn't always understand the concepts we were teaching them. we all thought we had handled it well but as they grew, we began to notice that their condition as vampires was affecting their relationship with the human world. hyo-ri was drawn to darkness and solitude, while soo-jin and sun-woo struggled to control their predatory instincts. ji-ho felt overwhelmed by his abilities, and jane struggled to keep her telepathy under control. plus, they were trying to contain the strong magic they had inherited from me.

as parents, we felt overwhelmed by the complexity of their needs. we knew they couldn't live in the human world without taking risks, but we also knew they couldn't live in darkness without losing their humanity. but instead of trying to change them or adapt them to a world that didn't belong to them, we decided to accept them just the way they were. we gave them the freedom to explore their own identities and to find their own path in life. and although we knew that this would mean facing challenges and dangers, we also knew that it was the only way our children could find happiness.

and so, we allowed them to become the vampires they had always been destined to be. and although we didn't know what situations we would face in the future, we knew they would be ready to face it, together and as a family.