#▹ IC ⌜ ◉ ⌟ second round! vs : turn your power into hope.

[nigiyakaken]

Tsukiko manages to come up to him and shoves aside his arms so that she can sit down on his lap. Her arms and soft press of her body wraps around his broad chest and that's when it's fairly obvious that there's been a little too much drink in her petite frame. ❝Ne, Shin-chan,❞ she nearly purrs, peering up at him with pleading eyes as her hands slowly crawl up his back. Her nails dig lightly when it drags down his back. And then she whispers, ❝can we sleep together?❞

❝ ↪ @lacedmagic submitted an ask !!

It's right when he's about to bite into his piece of paradise he'd been waiting on for what felt like ages at this point. ( Really, it has only been a matter of minutes, the man is starving, he's well earned this meal between his sake. ) Before he's even granted the chance, not only is his feast replaced by another pair of hands, they're being shoved to the side and it's the feeling of warm body now against his own which prevents him from snapping as quick as he desired.

It's because he's realized who is now sitting and where she's decided to place herself that any action or thoughts he might have had suddenly go blank. ( Perhaps the amount of drinks might be hitting harder than he anticipated. ) And after her voice soothes against his ear like the sweetest song he's believed he's heard, the question forces him to freeze - despite his arms already wrapping around her in a protective grasp on instinct. A shiver up his spine that goes unnoticed by him.

Her scent draws him in, nose dips into the crook of her neck before he's finally responding. It's laughter. The man is lost to the realm and has already long forgotten the bowl of rice he had been mourning the loss of but a few moments prior.

" If y'tired or something, we can nap later - gotta keep up with Sano and show him I can hold my own! " He can't. He's gone. Gone to the world and to the implications of what those touches and whispers heating his skin actually mean.

[portablefrailty]

Shades of Freshman Year?

This is the kind of win you’re not supposed to get.

Facing a great team on their home ice in a 2-0 hole and desperate to stay in the series; facing the best power play in the league and itching to break an 0-10 drought and avenge a PK that’s surrendered 4 goals; facing a goalie change; coming off 50+ shots faced in Game 2; up against a 40-25 shot disadvantage, a 39% face off win rate, a 31-17 deficit in hits--nothing about Game 3 boded a Rangers win.

The script unfolded as expected in the first. Guentzel, the deadline acquisition who’s scored maybe more playoff goals against the Rangers than any other player, buries another. Carolina allows no let up but holds the lead into mid second period when, at 7:39, Fox gets called for tripping.

Carolina goes on their third power play of the game, hoping lucky 13 will break the drought.

They. have. all. the. momentum.

Guentzel wins the faceoff. For thirty seconds its a firing squad: Burns, Jarvis, Aho, Guentzel and Svechnikov all shoot the puck. One block, one miss and three saves by Igor.

Just past the eight minute mark the whole series undergoes a seismic shift.

Zibanejad jumps a bad cross-ice pass at the blue line. He and Kreider are off--two white streaks breaking down ice with one hapless stick swinging, back checking defender between them.

Kreids buries the shorty. 1-1 score.

For the rest of the second it feels like the Canes (team, coaches and fans collectively) have been punched in the throat. The momentum shift feels like round 2 in Rocky IV after that hook tears Drago’s eye open.

The Canes were so rattled the Rangers damn near scored again on the same kill. Twice.

After that, nothing surprised me. Not the go ahead third period goal. I thought the Rangers might take it 2-1 but Carolina does their thing with the goalie pulled. Svechnikov at 18:24. Ho-hum. No panic. Three minutes and nineteen seconds later (not including intermission)-- By the time Panarin rips the game winner (his fourth), it feels like it's meant to be.

Wins like this are about the surest sign you can ask for that it's your team's year.

The series isn't over (technically), Boston ain't bad and Florida is scary, and the west has got scoring talent galore. Not to mention the Avs: as a Jersey transplant in Colorado, the thought of a another Avalanche cup win, this time at the Rangers's expense, makes me throw up in my mouth.

All of the above notwithstanding--the Rangers have the '94 Mojo. Another President's Trophy, another 7-0 start to the playoffs. They're also rested and, with Chytil back, actually healthier than ever! Unlike the Knicks, who are a Brunson ankle-tweak away from forfeiting--the Rangers are spreading the love and could absorb almost any loss. Just when you think a Ranger's name hasn't been mentioned in a while, he scores.

Hell, with Quick on the bench, we could even survive losing Shesterkin!

The 5-5 issue has turned into a nothing burger with a healthy six to date in these series and a slew in round 1. Not that anemic even-strength scoring matters much when you're dominating on the power play and your PK has more goals on opposing penalties than your opponents do!

In the face of this freight train Carolina be like Michael Spinks after a hard right from Tyson--a fine boxer whose grand strategy is now trickling down his leg and will be lucky to make the first bell.

Lest I be accused of jinxing my beloved Blueshirts: I'm not having Stanley Cup visions yet. But I can't deny that tonight's vibes have a premonitory quality to them.

Not exactly Stephane Matteau, Jim Leyritz or David Tyree tremors.

More like Kovalev's goal in Game 6, Jeffrey Maier's catch, or Brandon Jacobs vs. the shot clock at Texas Stadium.

Rest assured, though, Lord Stanley's mug remains as impossibly silver and elusive to me as the Holy Grail.

After tonight, though, I will permit myself a fond remembrance of the day Ken Conrad brought a cardboard and tinfoil replica to school one fine spring day in the waning weeks of freshman year (June 15th, 1994, to be exact). It was glorious. Every Ranger fan was decked out like an American flag while the eye of every Devil's fan (about 70% of my high school) burned red with bitterness or green with envy at the sight of that faux trophy.

The afterglow lasted precisely one week--ending the night John Starks went 0-11 from three point land doomed the Knicks in Game 7 against the Rockets. After finally getting past the (Jordanless) Bulls, I was sure the script called for a Knicks coronation and felt a bit cheated to be denied the double title.

I was 15. A year later I watched NY getting swept by the Legion of Doom, Claude Lemieux snag the Conn Smythe and the Devils raise their first cup (with two more slated for my college years).

At age 45, I have learned not to take championship glory for granted. 30 years on, following the Rangers negotiate the two month gauntlet that is the NHL playoffs is about a nerve wracking as witnessing my son's birth in the middle of the Boulder Floods of 2013--7-0 record be damned.

Tonight at least I'm making a point to enjoy the ride so far.

[officialgritty]

NHL FANTASY CUP ROUND 2

Here is the compilation post for all of the round 2 results, I hope you enjoyed and the next round will be posted ASAP! (and I actually mean ASAP this time)

If you want to join in, it’s not too late! Here’s the link to sign up for the taglist! If I am unable to tag you or you haven't been getting these, please do send me a message with your new user. 

I’ve tried to keep my favourite responses short, purely because this post would be way too long. I appreciate all the reasoning given though!!!

Boston Bruins VS Vegas Golden Knights

(4 - 3)

Out of 17 votes the Bruins received 9 and the Golden Knights received 8.

Winner: Boston Bruins

My opinion: THIS IS THE SECOND TIME YALL HAVE MANAGED TO GIVE THE LOSER A HIGHER SCORE SO I HAD TO CHANGE IT TO MATCH THE VOTES

My favourite responses:

“Chris Evans breaks swords with his biddies.”

“After time travelling thru the middle ages they finally get Knighted which gives them the ego boost needed to best the bruins.”

“I'd say that Ransom!Knives Out might have some hockey knowledge since he's a privileged white boy from New England.”

Los Angeles Kings VS New York Rangers

(2 - 3)

Out of 17 votes the Kings received 4 and the Rangers received 13.

Winner: New York Rangers

My opinion: I don’t have one besides fuck the Burger King jersey.

My favourite responses:

“BURGER KING JERSEY!”

“Prince William is a lizard.”

“William’s receding hairline recedes so far that the flash of the paparazzi cameras shining off his nearly bald head is so blinding that anyone on the ice near him is stunned (attack points: 10)”

“HOW DID THIS MANAGE TO STILL BE RACISTS VS. RACISTS?!”

Ottawa Senators VS Carolina Hurricanes

(2 - 3)

Out of 17 votes the Senators received 6 and the Hurricanes received 11.

Winner: Carolina Hurricanes

My opinion: Oddly enough I don't have one.

My favourite responses:

“Alarms are scary but less scary than white men in suits yelling at you. Talk about no thanks.”

“Personalized hurricanes just about sum up the last year.”

Buffalo Sabres VS Montreal Canadiens

(2 - 3)

Out of 17 votes the Sabres received 6 and the Canadiens received 11.

Winner: Montreal Canadiens

My opinion: The Sabres can't catch a break even in fantasy land huh? I also don’t know what the French says, I gave up on learning it lmao

My favourite responses:

“I just really fucking love hummus.”

“Baise les épées. ils ne sont pas à la hauteur de ces baiseurs Français.” 

“It's doubtful the Sabres will ever win another game again.”

Calgary Flames VS San Jose Sharks

(3 - 2)

Out of 17 votes the Flames received 11 and the Sharks received 6.

Winner: Calgary Flames

My opinion:

My favourite responses:

“The Flames will take inspiration from Sidney Crocsby.”

“Matthew Tkachuk somehow falls in the water and Coach Sutter rescues him by executing a perfect pike dive and punching the approaching hammerhead in the nose.”

“They’ve been working with Sharkboy from Sharkboy and Lavagirl.”

“Like Gary Bettman always says, ‘The flamethrowers have always been our enemy.’”

“They corral some of the local cows and try to ride them in the water. One of the refs quits during the second period and a mic catches him saying he isn't paid enough for this.” ... “Eventually the sharks (animals) start eating the cows and everyone calls it a day.”

Colorado Avalanche VS Vancouver Canucks

(4 - 3)

Out of 17 votes the Avalanche received 11 and the Canucks received 6.

Winner: Colorado Avalanche

My opinion: I swear I’m not making up these numbers, you guys have been divided the exact same amount!!! I’m losing it at the Colorado Assalanche omfg

My favourite responses:

“They’d all be too busy monologuing about MacKinnon’s ass to actually play.”

“Jake Virtanen looks with interest onto the twerking action.”

“The shake of the ass vibrates the ice hard enough that the puck slides into the opposing net and the Colorado Assalanche booty becomes the most powerful.”

“Following the game, several Canucks join a local theater group in the off season, with at least one abandoning pro hockey altogether in lieu of following his new dream of winning a Tony.”

Arizona Coyotes VS Philadelphia Flyers

(2 - 5)

Out of 17 votes the Coyotes received 3 and the Flyers received 14.

Winner: Philadelphia Flyers

My opinion: To the person who apologised to me after dissing the Flyers for their ‘embarrassing loss to the Rangers’, don't apologise. I have become void of emotion towards my team. 

My favourite responses:

“This literally just turned into an ep of Looney Tunes somehow but we always gotta take Gritty over Wile E Coyote.”

“G R I T T Y and they would all look SO GOOD in cheerleader costumes.”

"Gritty can do what he wants, everyone knows that.”

Nashville Predators VS Florida Panthers

(2 - 3)

Out of 17 votes the Predators received 6 and the Panthers received 11.

Winner: Florida Panthers

My opinion: I wanted the Preds to win but your opinions are valid. Doesn't mean i’m not upset tho :(

My favourite responses: 

“Juuse Saros made 41 saves against the Panthers tonight and he WOULD FUCKING DO IT AGAIN”

“Florida men don’t fear pregnant women.”

“Fear the Floridian man.”

“One of the Preds goes into labor during intermission which sets off two others throughout the second period like in a bad medical drama.”

The updated bracket:

Tagging: 

@scheifefe @ifiwasshawnmendesidslapmyself @d00dlebob @bricksatlandyswindow @churchofrileytanev @moritzseider @itsjuliak5 @blvejackets @calgarycanuck @marc-andrefleury @kempe @bowenbyram @andrei-svech @itschellybear @lorrmorr @tkachuk-yeah @berrybreadd @museinmind @pizzarandomness @rosieberg18 @youngbeezersmixtape @klutchnetsov @crosbeezinthetrap @chaos-hockey @connormcdavo @holymysticjellyfish @timmy-schallers @stockyardsyndrome @hockey-more-like @hockey-is-my-love-language @all-eyezzz-on-me @iwantahockeyhimbo @theonlytorontomapleleaf @sweetlittlegingy @toplinetommy @grenawitka

[highladyluck]

Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag playlist

Direct link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5KLghlM9nCF1WLKBNoLt5z?si=b1e1d244810e4ae9

26 songs, 1 hr 23 min. A character playlist for Tuon Athaem Kore Paendrag, aka the High Lady, aka the Daughter of the Nine Moons, aka “Precious” but only if you’re Mat Cauthon, aka Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag, aka the Empress of Seanchan.

She’s a fascinating mixture of good and evil, person and tool, sympathetic and unsympathetic by turns. I tried to capture that in this playlist, which is organized roughly chronologically by her personal timeline.

There are spoilers in the playlist and commentary for Winter's Heart through A Memory of Light, since this is meant to mirror the narrative.

Track List:

1.      Second Child, Restless Child – The Oh Hellos

2.      Game of Survival – Ruelle

3.      Sit Still, Look Pretty – Daya

4.      When I Rule The World – LIZ

5.      Bad Moon Rising – Creedence Clearwater Revival

6.      The Thief and the Moon – Shawn James

7.      Pomegranate Seeds – Julian Moon

8.      Zebra – The Magnetic Fields

9.      Jolene – Dolly Parton

10.   Maybe, This Time – OK Go

11.   Big Guns – Ruelle

12.   Fascinated – Ivy

13.   The Bullpen – Dessa

14.   Pretty Little Head – Eliza Rickman

15.   Greek God – Conan Gray

16.   Emperor’s New Clothes – Panic! At The Disco

17.   Rat Queen – The Mountain Goats

18.   Carmina Burana: O Fortuna – Carl Orff

19.   you should see me in a crown – Billie Eilish

20.   Muse with a Dagger – Taylor Castro

21.   Please Don’t Say You Love Me – Gabrielle Aplin

22.   Daisy – Ashnikko

23.   Mother’s Daughter – Miley Cyrus

24.   I Walk The Line – Halsey

25.   Glory and Gore – Lorde

26.   Trouble – Stripped – Halsey

Commentary and lyrics underneath the cut. Listen to it here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5KLghlM9nCF1WLKBNoLt5z?si=b1e1d244810e4ae9

1)      Second Child, Restless Child – The Oh Hellos

See, I was born the second child With a spirit running wild, running free

The Empress’s second child, the only one who goes across the ocean.

2)      Game of Survival – Ruelle

Are we the hunters? Or are we the prey?

"Keep this doll to remind you that I will always hear you if you say my name. If I am still alive, of course."

3)      Sit Still, Look Pretty – Daya

Oh, I don't know what you've been told But this girl right here's gonna rule the world Yeah, that's where I'm gonna be because I wanna be No, I don't wanna sit still, look pretty

Tuon wishes she looked more intimidating, and threw a full-blown temper tantrum when she was told who she’d have to marry.

4)      When I Rule The World – LIZ

When I rule the world, then I'm gonna make you sweat Dog collar 'round your neck, on your knees and scrub the deck

I promise I didn't forget about the sul'dam thing. This should be as jarring as her initial POV in Winter's Heart is.

5)      Bad Moon Rising – Creedence Clearwater Revival

I see the bad moon a-rising I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today

Such a good “Seanchan invade Ebou Dar” song! I definitely stole this from someone else’s Mat playlist, but I don’t think it’s on 8tracks anymore.

6)      The Thief and the Moon – Shawn James

Said the Thief to the Moon "I'll extinguish your light soon I'll put an end to all the light that you shed On this world in its darkened state"

I can imagine this as a Seanchan myth; covers Tuon's opinion on her prophecy & getting kidnapped.

7)      Pomegranate Seeds – Julian Moon

Kore, Kore, fauna and flora How did you get your throne? (Hey!) You made a deal You traded daffodils For a kingdom of ash and bone

Had to sneak in a reference to Tuon's middle name. Tuon's POV on her bargain with Mat.

8)      Zebra – The Magnetic Fields

so there's one thing I crave when my days become ho-hum and blah I want a zebra

Took this from my Mat/Tuon book playlist because it is truly the funniest song on there. It's a zebra in our hearts!

9)      Jolene – Dolly Parton

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man

This is very tongue-in-cheek, but at the same time, if you pay attention you can see that Tuon's particularly annoyed by/threatened by Joline Maza.

10)   Maybe, This Time – OK Go

So listen, I'm not trying to prove anything at all here But don't you think that maybe, this time, you were wrong?

Mat to Tuon after confiscating the a'dam from her.

11)   Big Guns – Ruelle

Every little move is fixed Like a game of chess The blood on your hands is thick And you're placing bets Can't hide in the den of lions

A really perfect song for Tuon's 'lion on the high plains' realization; I know technically Mat doesn't have cannon or grenades yet, but shhhh, the rapid-fire crossbows are more or less machine guns. Let me have this. Call it foreshadowing if you must.

12)   Fascinated – Ivy

Never turned out like we talked about Never could tell how to read your mind Never found out what you're all about In this lifetime, baby, you will be mine

Tuon's POV on the marriage ceremony.

13)   The Bullpen – Dessa

Forget the bull in the china shop There's a china doll in the bullpen

Returning to Ebou Dar to kick ass and take heads. This was the song that made me create this playlist, because of "china doll in the bullpen," which is such a great description of Tuon.

14)   Pretty Little Head – Eliza Rickman

Catch yourself a looker, let him go, go, go Wanna have your baby, but I'm so, so slow

Tuon misses Mat, but don’t you dare breathe a word about it. Besides, it’s just business.

15)   Greek God – Conan Gray

And since you always swear that you wanted me gone Then why don't you go get your gun? 'Cause you don't really hate me (You're a little baby) You don't wanna end me (You wanna befriend me)

The Tuon vs Rand confrontation (take two, where Tuon's actually there.) Rand has quite enough confidence, really, but most of the song really works.

16)   Emperor’s New Clothes – Panic! At The Disco

Welcome to the end of eras Ice has melted back to life Done my time and served my sentence Dress me up and watch me die

Declaring herself Empress after meeting with Rand.

17)   Rat Queen – The Mountain Goats

We who have never once tasted The stench of defeat Victory sweet as the dregs of the fast food dumpster Look how they jump when we show up Like they've just seen a monster

H/T to @anyboli, who first suggested this to me as a Tuon song. This is a good soundtrack to planning the raid on the White Tower���

18)   Carmina Burana: O Fortuna – Carl Orff

O Fortune, like the moon you are changeable[…]

I literally cannot imagine a Tuon playlist without this song. It’s White Tower raid time!

19)   you should see me in a crown – Billie Eilish

Count my cards, watch them fall Blood on a marble wall I like the way they all Scream

Yeah, this was inevitable too. I’m using it for that absolutely horrifying POV of hers where she's in the damane training room and decides it's time to plan a full-out attack on the White Tower.

20)   Muse with a Dagger – Taylor Castro

You're making fun of my people Pretend I don't hear you Cause I won't forgive myself For fueling or burning you

Tuon's thoughts on Mat in the garden. This didn't lean as as far into the dagger/knife imagery as I'd hoped for- remember, this is the blog that insists Athaem means Magic Dagger Curse- but it seemed so strangely apt for the two of them that I had to include it.

21)   Please Don’t Say You Love Me – Gabrielle Aplin

There's no need to worry when You see just where we're at Just please don't say you love me Cause I might not say it back

Her conversation with Mat in the garden.

22)   Daisy – Ashnikko

Respect a bitch, I'm a maverick Flexible, so elastic But don't you dare bend a bitch backwards

This is what you married, Mat. (The Mat POV version of this character sketch is probably Cake's Short Skirt Long Jacket.) I will not apologize for the number of #girlboss songs on this playlist.

23)   Mother’s Daughter – Miley Cyrus

Oh my gosh, she got the power Oh, look at her, she got the power So, so, so Don't fuck with my freedom I came up to get me some

The confrontation with Egwene. I see this as mostly Egwene's POV, with Tuon doing a sort of echo, the way she does in the original scene. They are fascinatingly alike here, and the way Egwene controls the scene and gets in Tuon's head- when that's Tuon's signature strategy- is amazing.

24)   I Walk The Line – Halsey

You've got a way to keep me on your side You give me cause for love that I can't hide For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide

Tuon admitting that her heart tells her to return to save Mat (and the armies of the Light).

25)   Glory and Gore – Lorde

Glory and gore go hand in hand That's why we're makin' headlines (Oh! Oh!) You could try and take us (Oh! Oh!) But victory's contagious

The Seanchan army comes back for the kill.

26)   Trouble – Stripped – Halsey

Don't forget me, don't forget me I wouldn't leave you if you'd let me Hmm, when you met me when you met me You told me you were gonna get me

Death threats are just their deranged way of flirting; if Tuon wanted Mat dead she wouldn't warn him, you know? And in that final scene with the fireworks Tuon's telling Mat that she wants him around, and he understands it as such.

[chemicalmagecraft]

Taiyuu OCT Round 1

@taiyuu-oct

Yukino stretched, appraising her teammate for the hero vs. villain exercise they were doing. She guessed that they had some sort of slime body Quirk. Mostly because their body appeared to be made entirely out of blue slime. "So I'm guessing your Quirk is being made out of slime, Rimuru-chan?"

"Yup!" they said, despite the fact that they didn't seem to have a mouth. Or lungs. "I can basically turn myself into a liquid, or make myself super sticky. I'm weak to water and fire, so look out for those. What's your Quirk."

"Cryomancy." Yukino showed off with a small puff of white mist that didn't really do much aside from look cool. "I can freeze things, and then I get psychokinetic control over whatever I freeze. I can actually absorb fire, though I also don't like getting wet."

"Good to know. What should we do for the exercise, then?"

Yukino knelt down and started giving the Lumin they were supposed to escort to the other side of the forest pets. "Right, I'm... kinda acrophobic, so it's probably for the best if we go for the low route. That cool with you?"

"That's fine," they nodded.

"Thanks. I should probably stay with Inu-chan because my Quirk is great for defense. What do you think?"

"Sounds good, I can scout out ahead, try to see if I can find who we're supposed to be fighting."

"Sounds like a plan."

As they waited for the okay to start, Yukino pulled out her staff with a twirling flourish. Unlike the entrance exam, this time they let the students bring some basic equipment with them. Yukino had also tried to ask for a bow, but the teachers denied it when she explained that she could make arrows from ice... Though to be fair, that probably could've gotten pretty dangerous if she didn't have practice with it. Like the entrance exam, she was wearing a nice, warm hoodie, though this time she had her P.E. uniform under it.

"You two can start now," Aura-sensei told them. Rimuru-chan melted into a puddle of blue ooze, then flowed ahead of Yukino.

"C'mon," Yukino told the plant wolf. She started walking, and the wolf followed her. Yukino hummed to herself as she walked down the dirt path in the middle of the forest. One hand was on Inu-chan's head, both rubbing behind his ears and making sure neither of the villains pulled some sort of teleport surprise. She didn't think anyone in Taiyuu had a teleporting Quirk, but better to be safe than sorry, right? Her other hand was holding her staff, obviously. Yukino tried to act like she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings, but in truth she was scanning the forest. She glanced around the trees. Occasionally she heard some rustling leaves in the distance, but nothing closer. Still, she didn't let her guard down.

Some time down the path, Yukino saw a rope in the middle of the path. It looked like it might have been a snare or something. Of course, the rope was almost the same color as the dirt path, so if her eyes weren't so good. "Stop," Yukino said, pushing down on Inu-chan to make him stop. She calmly held out her hand. A small blade of ice condensed from the air in front of her hand amid a puff of mist. The clear knife floated over to the rope, then dropped, propelled by her Quirk as well as gravity. The blade went clean through the rope and sunk into the ground. Half of the rope zipped off, and a second later a large rock tied to a rope fell by the side of the path.

"Right, let's go," she told the dog. Just in case, she cleaved the half of the ice knife that was still sticking out of the ground off of the rest of the knife, then shot it forward in a bit of a sweeping motion. It didn't hit anything, so she figured the path was clear for a bit. A little bit later, she heard a loud popping noise. Ball bearings spilled from a tree above the two. Yukino managed to react in time to make a hexagonal shield of ice above them. Her shield prevented them from getting hailed on by the small metal pellets, but there was still the problem of there now being ball bearings scattered on all sides of them.

Yukino growled. "That's annoying..." She snapped her fingers, and as she did her ice shield snapped into long, thin segments. Yukino floated the segments down to the ground and used them to brush the ball bearings off the path. "Is this all it's going to be?" she asked as she started walking again.

It didn't take long for Yukino to get accosted again. This time, Rimuru-chan jumped out of the foliage. "They're coming!" they shouted, then hid back in the bushes. "The girl who uses balloons and another girl with space hair! I'll try to surprise them, you hold them off!"

Yukino got into a ready stance, but couldn't help but snicker. "Balloons, huh? What's she gonna do, amuse me to death?"

"You'd be surprised," a voice said from the treetops. A spherical object fell in front of Yukino, and before she could smack it away a plume of thick smoke erupted from it.

"Smoke bomb!" Yukino shouted, then swung her staff. Frost crept along it as she swung, and as she hit the smoke bomb she generated more wind than should have been possible by swinging a staff. The smoke bomb was launched into the woods and the smoke it released was dispersed. Just in time for Yukino to see a purplish balloon heading straight for Inu-chan, as well as the clown-looking girl that threw it. Acting quickly, she swung her staff in front of Inu-chan, using telekinesis to speed it up a little. An ice shield condensed just off the staff, between Inu-chan and the balloon. The balloon hit the shield with a dull thump. Yukino snorted.

And then the balloon exploded. Technically it was probably just the balloon popping, but it exploded with so much force that it shattered the shield. Luckily Yukino regained control over the large shards before they hit Inu-chan, though it was close... Yukino threw the shards at the girl as she threw another balloon. The shards hit the balloon, exploding it with enough force to pulverize most of the ice.

"Okay, so 'balloons' is a much better power than I gave it credit for, that's on me," Yukino conceded as the diamond dust settled. She saw some blue ooze move behind the clown girl, but kept a neutral face. "Doesn't mean you're gonna win, Makku-chan."

Makku-chan giggled. "Like MacDonald's! You're funny, but I've gotta run now. Toodle-loo!" She turned and ran.

Right into Rimuru-chan. "What the heck?" she shouted as her shoes got stuck.

Rimuru-chan rose up, wrapping around her legs. "Now!" they shouted.

"You activated our trap card!" Yukino quipped as she dropped to one knee, slamming her hand into the ground. White vapor spread from her hand as a line of frost streaked to Makku-chan and Rimuru-chan. The line split just before them, flowing past them and converging on the other side as a circle. Ice froze up from the circle as it formed, forming itself into a clear dome of thick ice. The dome wasn't quite solid, though. There were small airholes out of the bottom, though rather flat and not nearly large enough for a person to squeeze through.

A normal person, anyway. Rimuru-chan seeped out from one of the holes easily. "Good," Yukino said. "I was hoping I made the holes big enough."

"Hey, you've got a dog on you," Rimuru-chan said.

"Well yeah, isn't that kinda the thing of this excercise?" Yukino said.

"No, another one." They made a pseudopod to point at something below Yukino's waist, then made an annoyed sound and changed their aim slightly.

Yukino looked down to see a dog circling around her. Not a wolf like Inu-chan; wolves are, usually, larger than dogs. Still, it was kind of on the big side. And weirdly enough, it was almost like... like the dog wasn't entirely there. Whenever Yukino tried to concentrate on where the dog was it was like it shifted and was suddenly a little to the left, or to the right. The dog walked over to Inu-chan, and Yukino decided that was probably a bad thing. She swung her staff, using her Quirk through it. The dog dodged, but Yukino was satisfied to note that it was only just barely. Yukino felt... something off when she nearly hit the dog, but she just chalked it up to whatever weird effect was around the dog. And as for where the dog came from...

Yukino looked up and saw the starry-haired girl. Except... logically she knew the girl was there somewhere, but for whatever reason Yukino couldn't tell where she was. It reminded her of the dog, just several times worse. The girl was trying to sneak up on her. Maybe. "I'm guessing the dog is yours, then?" Yukino asked.

"I suppose it's pretty obvious," she said, still walking in a direction that Yukino was only mostly sure was towards Inu-chan.

Yukino didn't bother trying to break through the effect through willpower alone. She planted her staff in the ground, letting go of it and making it stay upright with her telekinesis. She held her hands out in what she felt might be the girl's general direction, white vapor pouring from them as the air around them started to cool. The air she cooled, just barely cold enough for her telekinesis to work on it, was pulled to a point in front of her palms. A ball of white mist quickly formed from the compressed air. "That's a pretty annoying power you've got there, Lucy-chan, but I think I've got a workaround!"

Lucy-chan just barely had time to let out a confused "Wha-" before Yukino fired. The ball of compressed air decompressed in Lucy-chan's general direction. Violently. The annoying part of air control was how much Yukino had to concentrate on her air just to keep it from spreading out and becoming useless quickly even if she made it really cold. Her air blast didn't solve that problem at all, but by making it only barely below freezing she ended up with very little "cost" for what was effectively a one-use attack anyway. Of course, being just at the point where her bond broke with it also made it harder for her to feel the air with her bond, so that combined with Lucy-chan's aura of "vagueness" meant that Yukino only had a general idea of where she was.

Still, it was enough that she hopefully had her. Yukino didn't waste time as Lucy-chan reeled from the gale-force winds. She grabbed her staff and channeled her Quirk through it. She made another ice dome, this one a little bigger to make up for the fact that she wasn't entirely sure where Lucy-chan was. As soon as she saw that Lucy-chan was inside the dome, she turned back around to see Rimuru-chan grappling with Lucy-chan's dog.

"Run, I'll hold the dog off!" they said.

Yukino followed their order without complaining. "Inu-chan, come on!" she shouted. She ran as fast as she could... which admittedly wasn't that fast... Even aside from how short her strides were, Yukino was never the fastest runner. And she assumed Inu-chan was under orders to not to too fast, so when she noticed he was lagging behind she had to slow down and let him catch up. Still, she went as fast as Lumin would allow her to. Between Makku-chan's balloon having broken her ice shield and the fact that she thought she'd seen Lucy-chan summon things that weren't a disorienting dog at some point in the past month, Yukino wasn't entirely sure how long those ice domes would hold...

Speaking of... Yukino shook out her numb hands. "Ah, cold hands, cold hands!" She shoved them in her hoodie pocket to try and warm them up. "Still... I'm starting to get the feeling that I'll be getting a lot of mileage out of those ice domes."

"What are you doing, go faster!" Yukino heard Rimuru-chan shout behind her.

"Inu-chan won't go any faster!" she said.

"Can't you pick him up with your ice?"

"Oh yeah, good point." Yukino created a platform out of ice and set it down in front of Inu-chan. "C'mon, Inu-chan, get on!"

The plant wolf hesitated for a second, then got on. "Good boy!" Yukino said, petting him. "Now you get on Inu-chan," she told Rimuru-chan.

"What? Shouldn't I walk with you?"

"I have to focus on floating the platform if I want to go fast, so you should watch our backs. Now get on."

"Okay, if you say so." Rimuru-chan got on the wolf.

"Good slime!" Yukino said, petting them.

"Okay, now go!"

Yukino nodded and started running, having the ice platform float next to her. She was a little slower than she could've been because she still had to concentrate on the floating platform, but she still went a lot faster than she would've if she was just walking with Inu-chan.

They were already out of range of Yukino's ice, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. The good part was that that meant they were putting distance between themselves and the villains. The bad part was that Yukino couldn't tell if her ice was broken if she wasn't within range of it, so unless one of the villains picked up some of her ice after breaking their way out she had no way of telling if they were free...

"So I'm guessing I should work on restraining them so you can do that ice dome thing if they get to us again?" Rimuru-chan said after a bit.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Yukino agreed. "The only real problem with the ice domes is that they take a few seconds to form, unless I'm dealing with someone like you."

"Heh, we make a surprisingly good team, then!"

"I gues-"

"Behind us!" Rimuru-chan warned.

Yukino turned around, readying her staff. The villains were sneaking around the trees, but their stealth was pretty much ruined by the weird burning table floating near Lucy-chan... They jumped out of the bushes when Yukino turned around, ditching stealth. Yukino jammed her staff into the ground, activating her Quirk. Vapor rolled off her hands and horns as a line of frost extended from her staff in front of her, freezing up into a giant wall of ice.

"Ow, cold," Yukino said, shaking out her hands. She turned back around and started running. Hopefully that wall would...

Something weird happened to the wall. It felt like it was melting, but... not melting? Yukino looked back at the wall, seeing the remains of a giant ball of fire that had pretty much instantly melted a large hole through the wall. But... Yukino could still feel her control over... something. It was... cold air? Yukino didn't get it, but she didn't complain. She grabbed as much of the air as she could and compressed it into a ball of misty air floating in the middle of the hole. Yukino let the air loose as the villains approached the hole, blasting them back.

As they reeled from the blast Yukino flung her hands to the side, forming ice crystals with her Quirk. She noticed that that one weird table had disappeared. Maybe it had limited charges or something? Good. Though Yukino didn't like that cloud of green fog starting to grow around Lucy-chan... By the time the duo had recovered Yukino threw the two chunks of ice at them. Two icosahedrons of pure, perfect ice with numbers carved in them hurtled at the two villains. "Roll for initiative!" Yukino yelled.

The green fog around Lucy-chan formed into claws around her hands. "Draco!" she yelled, then smashed both with her claws.

"Nat 20, crud..." Yukino muttered.

"Get them!" Rimuru-chan shouted, jumping off Inu-chan.

Yukino grinned and made the large shards of ice left from the giant dice fly at the villains. "Ice knife!"

Lucy-chan deflected the shards with more speed and force than Yukino thought she was capable of. Yukino winced, forming more chunks of ice to throw. Makku-chan darted out from behind Lucy-chan, carrying a rather large balloon, and threw it at Yukino. Yukino quickly splintered a needle of ice off of one of her crystals and shot it at the balloon. The balloon popped, and even from a few meters away Yukino had to brace herself from the force of the explosion. Rimuru-chan, who was a little closer at that point, was flung back.

Yukino growled and threw her ice at Makku-chan. Like before, Lucy-chan deflected it all with clearly enhanced speed, smashing the ice into shards. Yukino just barely suppressed the urge to grin as she made more ice, and only then because of the sting of the cold on her hands. The shards from the ice that Lucy-chan broke hadn't fallen. Instead, they started to fly at Makku-chan as Yukino drew Lucy-chan's attention with more ice.

Makku-chan shouted as the ice flew towards her. Lucy-chan turned on a dime, swinging at the ice that was now dangerously close to Makku-chan.

Just as Yukino planned. She snapped her fingers, the ice darting away from Makku-chan. Unable to fully stop herself in time, Lucy-chan accidentally punched Makku-chan in the chest. She had greater control than Yukino thought, because her hit didn't look like it hurt Makku-chan too much. Of course, the next few would hopefully throw them off a bit...

The ice shards that Yukino had feinted Lucy-chan with looped around and slammed into her back, blunt sides first. Just for good measure, she threw the ice she'd just made at the villains too. It didn't look like it hit Lucy-chan too bad, but the heavy hits in rapid succession still knocked Lucy-chan and Makku-chan over into the puddle that was made when Lucy-chan melted Yukino's ice wall. Yukino grinned. While they were still trying to disentangle themselves and get up, Yukino drove her staff into the line of frost Cryomancy had already made when she made the ice wall. Her Quirk's freezing effect chained through the frost, letting her create an ice dome anchored to her existing ice wall just a bit faster and for less "cost."

"Okay, back on the dog, Rimuru-chan," Yukino said. "Before they bust out of that again." Yukino thought it'd probably take them a bit, what with how whatever power Lucy-chan was using actually seemed to be more defense-oriented, but Yukino wasn't taking any chances.

"Dang, that was awesome!" the slime cheered.

Yukino gave them a toothy grin. "You know it. Now, let's go!"

Rimuru-chan nodded and hopped on Inu-chan. Yukino picked the floating disk of ice back up and went as fast as she could. She let her staff go, keeping it from falling with her telekinesis, and started rubbing her hands together. Those attacks might've been awesome, but it was cold, too...

SLAM!

There wasn't even enough time to get out of range, this time. If Yukino had to guess, it was less than a minute before she felt a heavy blow put cracks in her ice dome. Yukino turned around to see a giant green snake slamming its head into her ice a second time.

SLAM!

"Oh, come on!" she shouted. The ice wasn't going to take more than a hit or two, even if she put everything she could into reinforcing it.

"That's a big snake!" Rimuru-chan said, pointing out the obvious.

"I know!" Yukino said, picking up her pace as much as she could.

SLAM!

That was the last hit the dome could take, next one would burst a hole right through it. "RUN!" Rimuru-chan screamed.

"I KNOW!" Yukino screamed back.

SLACRASH!

The dome broke. Yukino grabbed her staff back and sent Rimuru-chan and Inu-chan up above the trees and away from her. There was no way she was outrunning that thing, so she could at least try to make sure those two got away. Then she turned around and readied herself to at least try to defend herself from the giant snake. It slithered toward her, though Yukino noted that it looked like it floated just a bit over the ground. She gritted her teeth and readied her Quirk, white vapor curling from her fingers and frost starting to spread on her staff.

The serpent roared and lunged at Yukino. She held her ground, forming a shield of ice in front of her with her staff. The snake bit down on the shield. It tried to throw the ice away, but Yukino resisted telekinetically. She took a few steps to the side and swung at the snake with her Quirk-affected staff. Instead of frost blooming from the blow, though, the serpent roared as part of its body dissolved into some form of luminous green fog.

Yukino blinked. "Huh." That did not taste like normal body heat. It was... weirdly fruity?

"What did you just do to Ophiuchus?" Lucy-chan asked, a mix of curiosity and horror tinging her voice.

Yukino noticed that the two villains were running over to her, Makku-chan already making another balloon. Yukino sighed and drove the butt of her staff into the dirt. A small wall of ice erupted from the ground between herself and the villains, circling around to trap the snake with her. Unless it could float over the wall, anyway...

Her hands were starting to get cold again, but if she was right about what just happened that wouldn't be too much of a problem. She bared her teeth at the serpent, a predatory grin that showed off her sharpened teeth. The snake certainly looked unnerved, at least, as Yukino lashed out at the snake with a Quirk-enhanced palm strike. Instead of bouncing ineffectually off of the snake's thick hide, her hand passed through the snake with little resistance and a roar of pain and terror from the serpent. As with before, the summon's body deformed into a luminous lime green cloud that her Quirk sucked up as greedily as it did anything else it deemed thermal energy.

Yukino dropped her staff and plunged her other hand into the snake. It roared in terror. Yukino winced, but continued eating the snake with her Quirk. The mixed fruity taste it left on her Quirk's metaphorical tongue reminded her of... "Rainbow sorbet," she realized. "I could go for some of the real stuff, actually..." The serpent spat out the chunk of ice it was gripping and tried to escape, but Yukino managed to block it with the ice before it could. "I guess my name for Lucy-chan was pretty spot-on, then..." Yukino muttered to herself, moving her arms around to suck up more of the snake. "I've never tasted a star Quirk before, but between the combination of flavors and the fact that Lucy-chan called you Ophiuchus earlier... You're a constellation, aren't you?" she asked the snake. It was just scraps and green starfog at that point, and just a few moments later it dissipated entirely.

Yukino sighed like she'd just eaten a big meal, her arms feeling nice and hot. While using her Quirk to chill objects to below her body temperature made her body just a bit colder due to the fact that she wasn't completely immune to her own Quirk, sucking up an excess of heat, like a fireball or, apparently, a giant snake made of star matter(?), always left her feeling pleasantly warm. And because of that, Yukino felt almost as good as she did before they'd started the exercise. Maybe a little tired, still, but she felt like she could do something really big with her Quirk. And she knew just what.

Yukino idly noted that Makku-chan had cracked her ice wall a little, though she wasn't too worried. She grinned at the two. "Hey, wanna see something cool?" Yukino dropped to all fours, digging her claws into the dirt a little. Her horns and claws seemed to turn to ice as she readied her Quirk for something big, white vapor streaming from her arms. "Special move!" she shouted as the villains panicked and started to run away. Not that it'd help them...

Frost spread from the ground beneath Yukino's hands, permeating even below the surface of the ground. The frost expanded in a wave, going under Yukino's ice wall and spreading across the forest. It even climbed up the trees. "SUNDERING CLAWS OF THE ICE DRAGON!" The frost quickly overtook her opponents, but they blinked in surprise as nothing bad happened to them. No ice spread up from the ground to trap them, their feet didn't even freeze to the ground. It wasn't even slippery.

"That was anticlimactic..." Makku-chan said, turning back around. She started blowing up another balloon.

Yukino hissed in discomfort. She hadn't cooled the ground as much as she normally cooled things, but her arms were still starting to go numb from the cold... She planted her staff into the dirt and used to to pull herself onto her feet.

"Oh, and look at that," Makku-chan rolled her eyes at Yukino. "All that bluster, and in the end all she accomplished was frosting the ground over and taking herself out. Should we even bother with her?"

Lucy-chan frowned. "I... don't think she's done quite yet."

Yukino laughed as she shook her hands off, trying to return some semblance of feeling to them. "Yeah, she's right." She wasn't freezing again anytime soon, but the thing about Yukino's Quirk was that it was two-step. Even though she could feel the drawback of the first part of her Quirk in full force, the warm, full feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that the energy pool her telekinesis drew from was filled to the brim, almost demanding to be released.

She obliged, spreading out her legs into a wide stance and dropping her clawed hands into a position like she was about to throw something underhanded. Yukino never really needed to physically move to use her telekinesis, but sometimes for bigger things like this it felt like it helped. "Know what 'sundering' means?" She made a slow clawing motion, her hands shaking from the cold as she brought them upwards. As she clawed at the air, the ground started to rip itself apart. Small chunks of ground rose at first, but they slowly grew in size.

Makku-chan and Lucy-chan, quickly realizing that this was not a good sign, scrambled for the sides of the frost-covered ground. Yukino snapped the ground up, blocking them from fleeing with walls of earth.

"Cryokinesis, air blasts, energy absorption, and now geokinesis?" Makku-chan listed... incorrectly. "What kind of Quirk does she have?"

Yukino smirked, drawing more on her telekinetic energy. The ground cracked apart, lifting up in giant chunks. The villains slipped down the suddenly-uneven ground, though Yukino took care that they didn't get too battered from the fall. Once they were stuck in the bottom of a steep-walled crater, Yukino stacked the earth she'd pulled from the ground into a makeshift wall around the hole, trying her best to compact it into something that they'd have trouble climbing or breaking through.

The problem with having a general telekinesis-type Quirk instead of one of its more specialized cousins, Yukino was well aware of, was the fact that it was harder to perform the same sort of fine manipulation that was usually easier with specialization. Yukino could only make her perfect ice because she shaped the water as it was freezing, and even then it took a lot of practice and concentration. Still, Yukino was hopeful that her patch job would make do until her team won. It didn't feel like it'd collapse and bury the villains in dirt, at least.

She hissed again, shivering and rubbing her hands together. Her arms were still super cold, and she was starting to notice that her Quirk's energy reserves were already pretty low just from that one special move. Yyyeah, it was probably back to the drawing board for that one... Yukino almost fell as her legs turned to jelly, only just barely managing to grab her staff before she did. She winced, it was still freezing cold. "Well, at leas' they're probably not gettin' out of there anytime soon..." Yukino muttered to herself. She turned around to walk away and hopefully rejoin with Inu-chan and Rimuru-chan-

And banged her head into something cold and hard. "Ah, what the-" Yukino rubbed her head and looked in front her her face. Oh. Right. Ice wall. "Been a long time since I ran into my own ice..." she muttered to herself. It'd be hard to break out with her energy so low, and forget about climbing over. Yukino sighed, then remembered the part of the wall that Makku-chan cracked. Probably the best place to try...

Yukino walked over to the cracks in the wall. She leaned on her staff and kicked at the crack, trying to enhance her weakened telekinetic force with her weakened physical force.

Crack!

The ice cracked under her foot, but didn't break. Yukino sighed and kicked it again.

Snap!

It broke. Good, Yukino didn't think she had enough energy in her for a third one... She used her staff to knock out a few bits of ice that were only just hanging in there. The hole still wasn't that big, but it looked wide enough for her to climb through, at least. She pushed her staff through, then carefully pulled herself through. She tried not to touch the sides; without enough energy for finer telekinesis, she hadn't been able to smooth out the jagged edges of her hole. She managed, though her hoodie was torn up a little. Shame, Yukino liked that hoodie...

Yukino sighed in relief once she was out of her accidental trap. She slowly picked herself back up and dusted herself off. She looked back at the earth wall, thinking. Should she wait by the wall, in case the villains managed to get out?

She heard a pop, then a voice shouting, "Oh, come on!"

Yeah, they probably weren't getting out of there anytime soon. Not that Yukino would put up much of a fight if they did, come to think of it. Lucy-chan probably wouldn't put any more of her summons in a position where she could eat them again, and without her Quirk Makku-chan would probably take her out easily. Accepting that, Yukino turned around and started walking down the path to where she threw Rimuru-chan and Inu-chan. She was starting to feel pretty sluggish, though... She always felt really tired when her energy reserves dipped too low. The fact that it made her feel colder as well didn't help.

Yukino felt herself nodding off as she walked down the path. She shook herself off, trying to keep herself awake and get her blood pumping. She slapped her cheeks lightly, balancing her staff in the crook of her arm. Just for extra measure she pinched her cheeks, accidentally drawing a little blood because her claws were sharp. At least it woke her up a little.

After what felt like an hour, Yukino managed to shamble over to Inu-chan and Rimuru-chan. Rimuru-chan, who was currently in their more humanoid form, was trying to push Inu-chan faster than he was willing to go, but it didn't look like it was going that good. "Hey," Yukino said.

"You're back!" They harrumphed at her, making cheeks just to puff them up. "You're lucky I managed to catch Lumin, that could've gone a lot worse!"

"Yeah, yeah, let's jus' get to the finish line before the villains get back out again," Yukino waved them off. "Unless you can set things on fire I'm probably not gonna be much use if they fight us again."

"Wow, that snake must've really done a number on you, huh?"

Yukino shrugged. "Th' snake was actually the easy part, I kinda wiped m'self out dealin' with the villains. Shouldn' be too easy for 'em to get outta the hole I dug for 'em without some help, though."

They nodded. "Well that's good, at least. I think we're almost done, hang in there."

True to what they said, Wolfy-sensei was waiting for them at the other side of the next turn in the path. "You two won, good job," he told them. "Take a break, we'll have to get Laccadaisy to repair the course anyway." He was definitely glaring at Yukino when he said that. "Speaking of which, Takeda-chan." Yukino sighed to herself. She knew that stern tone of voice, Ryuji just loved using it on her. Lecture time... "I don't want to see you doing something like that again. It doesn't matter how many villains you take out if it takes you out with it."

Yukino sighed, but nodded. "Yeah, I know, I know. Won' do it again."

He nodded. "Good. Now do you need anything?"

Yukino shivered again. She dropped her staff and leaned against one of the trees. "Need to warm up."

Wolfy-sensei nodded again. "I'll call Laccadaisy, then see about setting up a bonfire or something. You gonna be fine if I leave you here for a bit?"

"Yeah, thanks."

[liliesoftherain]

My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader

Ch. 13 Midoriya vs Todoroki

Masterlist

A/N: Here’s the next part!! I know I said next part would have Mc vs Tokoyami BUT I felt like this was an important part to have, and I wanted you guys to focus on it so I made it shorter than I was originally going for.  Let me know what you guys think! 

TAGLIST: @rizamendoza808 !(: @iris-suoh !(: @quicksilverfangirl​ !(: @shortperson202 !(: @noodlenerd101 !(: @matchamidoriya​ !(: @thorsbtch-captainnoobmaster69me​ !(: @pastel-prynce​ !(: @sunkissedneptune​ @monetfatalia​ !(: @legit-fandom-trash​ !(: @lovethewitchofendor​ !(: @dekuxlink​ !(: @water-melone98​ !(: @helena-way07​ !(: @nothing17-7​ !(: @hopelessdisasterr​ !(: @karmaboundlife​ !(:

“Good luck Deku, you’ll do great.” 

Once the tense atmosphere settled, Izuku spoke up saying he was going to sit in the waiting room to prepare for his battle. 

You gave him a small smile and a wave and he felt his cheeks heat up at your words, knowing that you weren’t lying to him. He gave you a large smile back, hoping it didn’t look too dorky, and off he went.

You watched as he walked off, before looking towards your right side at Iida, who had a concerned look on his face.

“Iida?”

“I hope Uraraka will be alright.” He spoke out, voicing his concerns.

“She’s strong, I’m sure she’ll be fine.” You gave him a slight smile, hoping your words provided a little comfort.

“I do agree with you there, however I just hope there wasn’t too much damage done.”

“Yeah, he really roughed her up!” Kaminari jumped into the conversation, shaking his head in false disappointment. 

“He was kinda playing a false villain, must’ve been tough to hear all the boos from the crowd.” Sero spoke up from beside Kaminari, who nodded along to everything he said.

“Thankfully it was cleared up, because it’s ignorant to believe Bakugou would go easy on Uraraka We’re all training to be heroes, plus she’s not frail.” You said thoughtfully.

“Even if it all was because of who he was up against, he made a really convincing bad guy-”Tsuyu was cut off by angry shouts.

“Shut up you idiots, or else! Who said you could talk about me while I wasn’t there huh?”

“Bakugou dude,” Kaminari turned his head to look at Bakugou who just walked in, wearing a scowl, “Really though, I don’t understand how you were able to aim a powerful blast at a girl like that. I couldn’t help but hold back against that Shiozaki.”

“Kaminari she murdered you.” You pointed out.

His head snapped towards you, hurt swirling in his puppy dog eyes.

“Can’t you just let me have this!?”

“No,” you laughed, “because she totally kicked your butt, and you should let her have that win! She earned it you know. Just like how Bakugou earned his win against Ochako, even though she put up a good fight.”

“Why wouldn’t I have won, shitty girl!?” Bakugou hissed at you.

“Yeah, what’s up with that Kaminari, I bet Uraraka could’ve won against you too, she’ll have you dumb in two seconds.” Jiro laughed while mocking Kaminari’s overcharged face, thumbs up with her tongue out.

“WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN?”

“Oh look Kirishima’s on the field!” Mina pointed out, ignoring Denki’s cries.

“WHOOHOOO! Before we head onto the second round, we have a manly score to settle! Let’s see who the true winner of the 7th match will be! Kirishima or Tetsutetsu! Who ever wins this arm wrestling match will move on! LET’S GOOO!”

The two boys got in position and activated their quirks, a cinder block underneath them acting as the table. It only lasted for about two minutes, but it felt like 2 hours. They were holding each other steady until you saw Tetsutetsu had lost his grip, letting Kirishima smack his arm down in a victory.

“Kirishima is the winner! Add him to the bracket!”

You clapped, yelling in praise for the redhead once Midnight announced his victory.

“Now we’ve got a full roster for the next round of the tournament, let’s get the party started now ya dig?”

You sat up in your seat a little bit more, feeling anxious at the fight that was about to go on below you. 

Midoriya and Todoroki. 

It was nerve wracking when you thought back to their conversation, and you found your eyes searching for Bakugou. He was the only other person who knew the true intentions of this fight, what this really meant to them. 

Bakugou’s eyes locked onto yours and all you did was stare. You didn’t know if he understood what you were trying to convey with just a simple look, but the way he gave you a single nod made you feel better. So you grinned back, then a voice popped up.

“So, the match hasn’t started yet? What are you staring at (y/n)?”

You snapped your head to look at Ochako who walked out on the first row, giving you a strange look. 

“What-oh, hey. How are you doing?” You changed the topic.

“I’m good!”

“Something terrible has happened to your eyes! You should go get that checked out by Recovery Girl.” Iida cut in, jaw opened wide.

“I already did, this is from something else.”

“Oh, Of course.. If I were in your position, I’d be very frustrated too.” 

“Just know you fought bravely,” You looked over Iida as she had sat down on his right, “like I said before, you may have lost the match but you have won in other ways.”

“Yeah but..”

“There’s no time to wallow,” Tokoyami’s voice cut through her pitiful words, “Use this next match as a source of encouragement.”

“You guys are right, I will!” She nodded, thanking you all.

“So wise..” Iida sighed.

 “I CAN FEEEEL THE ANTICIPATION IN THE STANDS! AND THAT’S BECAUSE THE SECOND ROUNDS FIRST MATCH IS GOING TO BE EPIC! It’s the guy who won his first rounds by a landslide and literally left half of the audience frozen! Hero courses class 1-A, Shoto Todoroki! Verses! The kid who almost walked out of his first match, but made a good comeback by showing us his impressive moves!  Hero courses class 1-A, Izuku Midoriya!”

“How do you guys think this will go?” Iida asked.

“It all really depends on whether or not Midoriya can get in close.” Tokoyami spoke, giving his take while staring intently down below

“That’s just it, how can he dodge all the ice?” Ochako wondered, 

“He doesn’t have to dodge it really, just blow it away.” You mumble.

“Blow it away?” She looks at you.

“With his quirk, I mean it wouldn’t be smart for him to do it that way..”

“Because every time he uses his quirk, he breaks.” Tokoyami finished for you. 

You nodded at him, but you looked away from his gaze feeling uneasy. You had to go up against him sooner rather than later, and nerves for that match outweighed the ones from your fight with Mina. 

You just weren’t sure what a weakness of his could be, he was too strong.

“Both of these heroes in training have been front runners in the sports festival, but which one of rivals will advance to the next round! Get ready, you’ll have to watch and find out! BEGIN!”

You looked back at the match, watching as they started immediately. Izuku using a huge wave of power to blast back Todoroki’s ice, you winced, seeing the bruised and broken finger. You watched as Todoroki only maintained his place in the arena by placing ice behind his body, smart thinking.

You might have to learn from that.

“Oh crap! I’m missing it!” Kirishima’s voice broke you from your thoughts, turning to see him run into the stands.

“Hey good job making it into the second round Kirishima!” Denki grinned.

“Thanks man! Looks like I take down Bakugou next!”

“I’ll kill you.” 

You laughed, feeling embarrassed once eyes looked over at you.

“Don’t laugh yet!” Kirishima pointed at you, “You’re my next target! It’s so unmanly always having you beating me! So get ready!”

“That’s only if I win against Tokoyami,” You look at said boy, who only looked back at you.

“It’ll be a difficult match, one that I am looking forward to.”  He said before turning away.

Difficult for him? You wondered why he’d say that.

“Either way, I’m still going to take you down! Man to man!”

“I’m a girl, Eijirou.”

“So? Girls are manly!”

“Then, does that make Bakugou manly?” Kaminari laughed as the blonde glared, however keeping his focus on the match below.

“Shut up, I’ll kill you too.”

“But seriously! It’s crazy how both you and Todoroki have moves that blast the whole stadium! Must be pretty nice..” Kirishima sighed.

“Plus, you don’t have to pause between attacks.” Sero huffed.

“It’s not as easy as you think, ya morons. If you overuse your muscles you risk tearing them apart. If you sprint too much you run out of breath. Quirks are physical abilities too, they can get worn out. You can’t just use them nonstop.”

“It makes sense when you put it that way,” Kirishima muttered, “I wonder if that’s how Midoriya thinks he’s going to beat Todoroki.”

“Deku always has some sort of plan,” You throw in with a grin looking back onto the battle, “But Todoroki is really powerful too, it’ll be a crazy fight! One hell of an endurance match that’s for sure, see which one breaks first.”

“I think Midoriya is already a bit broken, Hakamata.” Kaminari snickers, talking about Izuku’s fingers.

Bakugou tsk’d, eyes narrowing even more while his arms tensed at the way you were praising the others. He glanced over at you for a moment, and saw how wide your eyes were. The battle below having your complete attention, how interested you looked. He didn’t care what the hell you thought was cool or not, you could do whatever the fuck you wanted. His eyes snapped back to the fight below to see Deku throw a punch, a huge gust of air pressure following. His jaw tightened, he didn’t need to focus on what you were thinking during his match with Uraraka, no, he needed to focus on that damn Deku.

When Todoroki rose up from his walls of ice, you bit your lip in anticipation. Izuku’s arm now looked badly bruised, and it was most likely due to a fractured or broken bone because of his power. Todoroki looked fine, like he was ready for such an attack. Just when he sent off another wave of ice, just when you thought it was over, Deku counter attacked.

You gasped in shock, seeing how Todoroki skid back a few steps, the ice wall he had been using was breaking as he did. Even while he tried to create more, they only continued to burst apart until he barely managed to catch himself at the edge.

The battle continued, blow after blow the two fought and you couldn’t tear your eyes away. Both were on their guards, and while the fight held passion, you could tell they were slowing down.

Especially Todoroki, you stared on in worry at his sluggish movements, this wasn’t like him. You knew the frost covering his body must have some reason to do with it. You thought back to the conversation he had with Midoriya and you concluded it had to be because of his father. There was no other reason why he wouldn’t give it his all.

They started a conversation down below, and it wasn’t hard to miss it. It almost made you cry at how strong Izuku’s resolve was, and how beat down Todoroki seemed. You may not know exactly what Todoroki had gone through, but you were possibly one of the only people who could come close.

At least you escaped your ‘hero’, Todoroki was still unfortunately living with his.

“IT’S YOURS! YOUR QUIRK, NOT HIS!”

The arena lit up with flames, so bright and hot you could feel the immense heat from where you were. 

“Amazing..” You said breathlessly, watching the flames dance around the area. The warmth spreading through your body felt cozy, and you were surprised at the fact it wasn’t overbearing.

It was pleasant.

Until a booming voice broke the sounds of battle, Endeavor speaking to Shoto as if he were nothing more than a weapon. You grit your teeth, anger coursing through your veins causing you to stand.

“Endeavor suddenly shouts words of encouragement? What uh, a doting father?”

“Doting father my ass.. More like a monster.” You felt eyes on you but you couldn’t stop yourself from running to the rail and yelling.

“SHOW EVERYONE YOU’RE YOUR OWN PERSON TODOROKI! YOU’RE NOBODY’S PUPPET! SHOW THAT BASTARD HOW YOU’LL BEAT THIS ALL ON YOUR OWN.”

Your body was shaking, from past memories and from anger on his behalf. You didn’t care if at this point Todoroki knew you were listening in on him before, or if your classmates were giving you weird looks, or even if your dad heard your shouts. He’d know why. You didn’t even care that you were getting a piercing stare from Endeavor, the only thing that mattered was that smile from the boy below.

All you wanted was for Todoroki to know that he had people on his side, someone who knows that he is great all on his own with no help from anyone.

The ending was as you expected, large and loud. They went at each other full force, cement flying everywhere as the air pressure was too much to handle from your standing position. You were trying to hold onto the railing but your grip loosened, causing you to yelp as you slid back till you fell into the seats, Iida immediately trying to help make sure you weren’t hurt. You paid him no mind, staring in shock until the air pressure faded and the arena stood still with a bated breath. You gulped, the slight pain in your back forgotten as you tried to see through the abundant amount of smoke.

“What happened just now? What the heck is up with your students?”

“The air around the ring had been thoroughly cooled down and then rapidly expanded when heated up.”

“Wait, that’s what caused the explosion!? How hot did that fire get! Jeez, I can’t see a thing, is the match still going on or what?”

Once it cleared up a bit, you saw Izuku leaning up against the wall outside of the ring, slumped over till he fell flat on the ground.

“There! Midoriya is.. out of bounds! Todoroki wins! He advances to the third round!”

You saw Shoto standing in the arena and couldn’t believe your eyes. You knew this was going to be a great match, but you didn't realize just how good it was going to be. They both put up a great fight, and you felt for both boys.

Izuku for not winning, but also for Todoroki who had won, despite what he said about not using his fireside. You saw Izuku being taken away on a stretcher and stood back up, intending on going to Recovery Girl’s office.

“Hakamata where are you going? Uraraka?” Iida asked, watching as Ochako stood up alongside you.

“To see Deku right?” She asked you, and all you did was nod.

“Then let me accompany you both!” Iida stood as well, his frame towering over you both.

“Me too, kero.” Tsuyu walked out of the stands with the rest of you.

You guys quickly made your way to the office, not even bothering to knock as you slid the door open.  A chorus of your shared shouts filled the room, startling the man inside who was standing along his bedside. 

You stared in confusion, knowing that this man looked familiar in some way, but you were unsure of what to think.

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you sir.” Ochako bowed her head in respect at the man, who just gave a shaky wave back.

“Oh, uh, yea.” He turned and made eye contact with you, and you must’ve still had a look on your face because he jumped and turned back to look at Izuku.

“He is in no state for visitors.”

“Ugh, hey you guys. Shouldn’t you be watching the matches?” Midoriya cracked open an eyes, and gave a wobbly smile.

Relief flooded your system, causing you to forget the man.

“The arena was far too damaged, so they had to take a quick break for repairs.” Iida answered.

“That was a scary match Deku!”

“It was really something else to watch, kero.”

“Yeah Izuku, that was a pretty awesome battle. Even if you didn’t win, you were amazing.” You smiled at him.

His lips went wider at your praise, even though it hurt to be smiling this big, he couldn’t help it. Although he heard your shouts of encouragement for Todoroki, wasn’t he doing the same thing? He couldn’t feel upset over something he was trying to accomplish.

“Th-thanks, heh.” He winced as he moved, causing Recovery Girl to tsk as she began to shoo everyone away.

You gave a tiny smile, filled with relief and a bit of distress.

“You’re reckless, but you’ve got guts Deku. Just, try not to get hurt so much okay?” You laughed as he pouted at you, letting yourself be guided out with the others. 

Izuku watched you go, ignoring the looks he was getting from his mentor. He had other issues to deal with right now, no matter how much he wanted to focus on you-he wouldn't let himself get distracted.

“I’m sorry…”

[zippdementia]

Part 94 Alignment May Vary: A Clashing of Fates

The Mountain loomed in the background, the mighty Jarlberg. The armies of the New Alliance, made up of a conglomeration of races from elves to ice barbarians to the common people of the Sword Coast, marched through the ice and snow, chanting battle cries to keep their spirits high. They felt a mighty army, but the sight of the Mountain caused a shiver to run through their ranks. 

The Mountain seemed a god fallen to earth. Around it a black cloud swirled, and as they drew closer they could all see it was no cloud, but winged demons. Two flanks of armed foes stood on either side of the mountain, ready to flank their army. The Yuan Ti were arranged on the left, and it seemed the entire race was present. Imoaza could not see the leader, but she knew that somewhere in that mass was her son, Xaxus, whose name meant “The Serpent Who Would Eat the World.” 

To the right were the Undead, a huge number of them, all the Undead that had attacked Vraath Keep, bolstered to twice that number by all those who had died in that battle. Leading them was a giant of a woman, dead as the rest, but filled with more rage. She wore a bloodstained mask, and Milosh recognized her. It was Sierra, wearing the mask that seemed to transform her into a more powerful fighter. Karina would have known the mask: it long ago had been worn by Shando to make him El Ultimo Santo. 

With a mighty cry, the two armies, both made up of former friends, former foes, and even family, began to advance.

This is a massive battle. On the one side is Abenthy’s army, made up of over 6000 undead, 2300 Yuan Ti, 1000 Demons, and nearly 1000 monsters deserted from the Vraath Keep forces. They have champions, as well. Sierra, wearing the mask of El Ultimo Santo, leads her fellow undead. A Balor has been summoned from the Abyss to assist Abenthy with bringing the realm of Chaos into the physical plane. It leads the demons, all of them flying units. Xaxus leads the Yuan Ti, and there are a couple of other special units yet hidden. Directing it all is the will of the Three Who Are One, having taken Abenthy’s form. He does not seem to be present, but his power moves this armies like pawns on a board.

The New Alliance is only half the size of Abenthy’s army.  Comander Feluver leads it, and has brought a contingent of 2000 wood elves. Waterdeep, followers of Karina, and Baldur’s Gate refugees add another 3000 to this number. The tribe of Ice Barbarians has helped prepare the army for fighting in the snow, while adding 55 of their own number to the fight. And finally, 15 adult dragons, three each from the metallic colors, have come to add their prodigious might to the battle.

What the Alliance lacks in numbers, it makes up in legendary heroes. Immerstal the Red is here, lending his fire magic. Verrick comes with all the power of a death knight, bound to Milosh. Breath Giver has become the leader of Watergate and wields the power of the Blackstaff. Her brother, Orcaheart, is a mighty Ice Barbarian warrior who once (as he reminds him) beat Milosh in a one-on-one combat... with a little help from his sister. Hecate is poised like a knife at the heart of the Yuan Ti, hidden among their ranks and unsuspected in her treachery. Daymos and Jade are present, not fighting, but using their psychic energy to disrupt Abenthy’s control over his army. And of course the PCs themselves: Imoaza the Yuan Ti Weave Seer and Warlock; Milosh the Half Orc Mercenary from another world, choosen by Primus himself to be a champion of order; and Carrick, human Paladin of Primus, infused with the knowledge and wisdom of the Surveyor.

The idea for this combat was inspired by Tyranny of Dragons. I never was satisfied with how the final battle in that campaign is described. The DM is just sort of left to “figure it out” and all the promise that PC actions were going to matter and have a mechanical impact are left behind. It’s a little better written in the rerelease of the campaign, but the major issue is still not resolved: no good mechanics are given to help simulate a battle of the proportions described. 

So to play out this combat, I wanted to fix that problem. I turned to DMs Guild and read a number of mass combat rules, including old 1st Edition D&D rules written by Gary Gygax himself. Most did not meet muster. They were either too complex or clunky, or too nebulous.

But then I found the aptly named “Simple Mass Combat Rules” by Christopher Heatherington. As of this writing, Chris has only done one other release on DM’s Guild, but I know he’s active because he responded to my praise for his Mass Combat Rules. I want to repeat that praise here, and encourage anyone who ever wants to run a mighty army vs army battle in D&D to use these rules. They are good enough I think Wizards of the Coast should officially adopt them.

I won’t go into the details of the rules here, except to say that basically every creature in an army adds to its value, and those values are compared to figure out how much “life” each army has. The higher value army always has 20 life, and the lesser value army has life equal to a percentage of that, based on their army’s power (in this case, 15 for the New Alliance). Each round essentially comes down to two rolls. One is a commander’s roll, to compare how well each army fights. Another is a morale roll, to see if either army breaks its spirit. Affecting these rolls with pluses and minuses are the actions of the PCs, who get to direct the armies and take actions themselves in combat. The focus stays very macro, so you aren’t usually running individual combats (though you can, if you feel it is a key moment).

Below, I’ll take you through the major steps of our battle, and describe how it all plays out.

The First Clash

The Yuan Ti army stays where it is, but the Undead march forward to meet the New Alliance. The PCs work to come up with a plan of attack with Breath Giver and Comander Feluver. They decide to send the Waterdhavians charging against the Yuan Ti, while the Elves and the rest of the Alliance will try to destroy the Undead. Verrick and Orcaheart are assigned the task of taking down Sierra, which they grimly (Verrick) and excitedly (Orcaheart) accept. Immerstal and Milosh lead the charge against the rest of the undead, keeping the troops in line and their morale high. Carrick hangs back with Breathgiver, assisting as medics on the field.

The first clash against the undead El Ultimo Santo has all the intensity of a raging inferno. A circle in the middle of the armies is formed, as even the fearless undead pull away from the raw destructive power of the battle. El Santo is a beast of pure reckless force, crater the icy ground with each blow of her maul like fists. Verrick wields all the unholy might of a Death Knight, and brings it against Santo, sending waves of necrotic energy spiraling around them, refreezing the slush that their boots make of the arena. Faced with such power, it is impressive that Orcaheart shows no fear and holds his own ground, picking the perfect moments to move in and strike against El Ultimo, while she is distracted by Verrick’s furious blows. After a half hour of fighting, the three are still locked in deadly combat.

Meanwhile, the Waterdhavians advance upon the Yuan Ti, but this seems to have been predicted by the clever snake people. They send hails of arrows and blasts of powerful magic raining down on the hapless army. Still, the Waterdhavians charge, seemingly into a suicide run.

However, there is a method to this. The distraction caused by their rush has allowed one very special person to leave the main army and travel undetected across the snow at high speed, using her mastery of the weave to disguise her presence. Invisible, Imoaza steals across the ice, until she is behind the Yuan Ti army. Then, dropping her spell, she assumes the appearance of a non-descript Yuan Ti warrior and blends in with the mighty army, seeking her son, and vengeance.

Mortal Combat

With battle broken upon the two armies, Abenthy seizes the advantage early on. The Waterdhavians are getting crushed under the ranged might of the Yuant ti and their magic. Imoaza has merged with the Yuan Ti army, but pressing through to find Xaxus is like trying to dig through solid rock with your fingernails. The Yuan Ti stand tightly packed and are observant of anything breaking the order. Imoaza has to be careful, but she also needs to be quick: the Waterdhavians are suffering more death every second. Each moment she delays is a moment of failure.

While Imoaza seeks to complete her secret mission, Abenthy moves two assets into position on the field. The demons break off from their perches on the mountaintop and fly towards the main Alliance army, seeking to rain fire and death upon it. They are met mid air by the Allied Dragons, who tear through the demons with mighty blasts of their breath weapons and flashes of claw and tooth. A group of the demons breaks away and lands at the back of the Alliance, led by the leader of the demons, a mighty Balor known only as The Forgotten Death. Milosh and Carrick and Breathgiver come together to lead the rear defense, but the undead are closing in from the front. Immerstal adds his mighty magic to the fray as well.

While all this is going on, Abenthy send his second asset into the field on a secret mission of its own. It is a mighty Dracolich, and it soars silently towards the Alliance headquarters, where it hopes to find the source of the psychic power holding him back: Daymos and Jade. It will easily eliminate the two distracted psychics.

But before it can reach its goal, a mighty roar of sadness splits the sky as the Bronze Dragon Argent, the PC’s companion and mount since the adventure on the Moving Ice, spots the Dracolich and recognizes its essence. It is his mother, the Bronze Dragon Sauros, who so long ago promised aid to Karina and was eventually slain by the Red Hand. Argent, wailing with sorrow, turns from the battle against the demons and flies at his mother, determined to end her suffering. The two dragons clash mid air and begin a deadly, sorrowful dance.

In the midst of these developments, Verrick and Orcaheart finally deliver the killing blow to El Ultimate Santo, though Orcaheart takes a mighty blow, crushing his lower spine, to leave the great beast open. Verrick kills Santo and as he falls, his mask splits in two and Sierra, her undead body broken, is released from his hold over her soul. Santo makes one last statement: “Finally, El Ultimo Santo may go to his rest.” Then the mask falls into dust and soon is lost amidst the snow. Both Sierra and the long suffering soul of El Santo find their rest.

Desperate Measures

With El Ultimo slain, Carrick and Milosh realize they have to press their advantage. However, the undead have no fear. The death of their greatest warrior does nothing except leave them free to attack the ailing Verrick and the downed Orcaheart. MIlosh pulls the two out of the conflict and gets them to safety, fighting off hordes of the undead to break through to the Alliance camp.

“Brother!” Breathgiver ran out of a large pavilion as the soldiers carried the limp form of Orcaheart into the camp. She rushed to his side and took his huge hand in her tiny one.

“Sister,” Orcaheart said, his voice thick with pain. “I have fought the battle of my lifetime and I fear it is to be my last. Do not cry, you need to be a leader now. You are the Blackstaff.”

“I am also still your sister,” she said, angrily wiping the tears from her face. “And it is not your time. There is still work to be done.”

Breathgiver summoned her powers and laid her hands upon Orcaheart. He gasped as the pain was torn from him, as wounds closed and bones mended. He moved his legs slightly. Breathgiver bent and kissed him on the forehead.

“Your fighting days are over,” she said. “That much is true. You will walk, but stiffly, and will never be able to match another in combat as you once did. But there is more to life than fighting, brother. When this battle is over, peace will reign, and I will need your strength by my side to help me rule.”

Orcaheart looked at Milosh, who had dragged him from the fight. “Go,” he said. “You are the only one to have ever defeated Orcaheart in a fight. Now your friend needs your sword arm at his side. Alas, my sister speaks wisdom. I can do no more for you in this battle.”

While this is happening, Carrick is still behind in the mass of swelling undead and Milosh plunges back into the fray to try to reach him, Verrick following him as his bound companion. The three end up separated, fending off wave after wave of the undead, slowly losing their own fighters to the horde. Finally they all end up reunited, back to back, each covered in the blood of the slain.

“They are growing in numbers!” Carrick calls out.

“Our own allies are swelling their ranks,” Milosh answers.

But that isn’t all of it. Carrick reaches out with his divine granted senses and realizes that the army is being restocked continuously by a host of corpse flowers, the disgusting plant like undead that destroyed the Witchwood. He tells Milosh of his discovery, and the two realize that they must take what remains of their army and do everything they can to reach and destroy the Corpse Flowers.

“I will make an opening for you,” Verrick says, and plunges into the middle of the horde.

Milosh looks up and sees dragons falling from the sky, their wings burned to a crisp. The demons screech insanely.

“We are out of time,” Milosh says.

While all this is going on, finally Imoaza finds what she is looking for. Xaxus sits upon a palanquin set astride a mighty Tyranasaur-like creature, long bodied and long tailed, with a face mostly made up of teeth. At his side stands Hecate, seeming completely subservient.

Imoaza thinks fast. “A message from the front,” she cried out, getting Xaxus’ notice. “The One who is Three sends new orders.” Xaxus ushers Imoaza, not recognizing her in her disguise, up onto his platform to give him the news directly. Hecate’s eyes widen, and Imoaza realizes that she, somehow, has realized who she is.

“What is the message?” Xaxus asks.

Imoaza leans close. "Thank you for bringing me my army." 

For a moment, she drops the disguise. Xaxus’ face pales as he recognizes his long lost mother. But before he can react, Hecate blasts him in the back with her gun arm and Imoaza summons Black Razor Alpha to her, and stabs deep into Xaxus’ heart. 

Around them the Yuan Ti go silent, staring up at the sacreligious murder of their mortal deity, the Serpent Who Will Swallow the World.

“What now?” Hecate asks.

“Now we see if the Yuan Ti believed your prophecy about the dragons.”

When All Else Fails

Imoaza stood in front of the full might of the Yuan Ti army. They stared at her and she felt suddenly that she teetered on the edge of a precipice, not a physical chasm, but an edge of time. On one edge, she saw the Yuan Ti throwing themselves like rabid animals against the forces of the Alliance, destroying many of the citizens of Waterdeep, so many dead that the snow turned red with the blood of humans, dwarves, and elves. The Yuan Ti were killed to the last one, the race ended in their rush to meet Dendar the Night Serpant.

That was one path. The Yuan Ti would be forever remembered by history as a powerful race, one which had fought to the bitter end, one which had never been conquered.

One that never thrived again.

The other path showed the Yuan Ti as a peaceful race, peaceful and simple. They were not rulers. They did not conquer or seek power. History forgot them. But they survived. They worshipped the path of the metallic dragons, sought balance in life, and sustainability in living it. They surrendered their armaments and faded into the background of civilization.

And they survived.

Imoaza looked out over the crowd of Yuan Ti watching her and for a moment doubted herself, wondering how she could possibly ever convince the Yuan Ti to be a peaceful people. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned her head to see Hecate giving her a slight nod of support. She remembered her daughter as she had been, the most bloodthirsty Yuan Ti of all, chasing her across the very planes of existence. If she had changed, had found peace, then so could her race.

Imoaza turned back to the crowds, raised her hands and magnified her voice, and began to speak.

Many things happen on the battlefield. 

Argent and his undead mother, Sauros, let out a mighty roar as their battle ends, the two dragons peeling away from each other, trailing blood in the sky, as they fall behind the mountain and are lost to sight. We make a roll for Argent, a die roll to see if he survives.... which I’ll reveal at the end of the post. 

And the Balor, the Forgotten Death, lands in the midst of the Alliance army, seemingly invincible, and begins carving a path to its leaders, Breathgiver and Feluver. Immerstal pulls on his last resources to hold the Legendary Demon General at bay. Do they survive? It will come down to a roll....

Verrick rushes into the the center of the undead army, where he unleashes his final attack. It is a powerful blast of fire that tears out of him, ripping out of every pore of his body and blasting the undead around him into smithereens. He thinks of Karina as he unleashes his power. We make a die roll for him, too...

Regardless, MIlosh and Carrick know there is only one chance they will get to have this advantage, and they lead a desperate charge through the hole Verrick has made. But already Abenthy is reacting, using all his willpower to draw the undead into an impenetrable line in front of the corpse flowers, knowing that while they exist, he cannot lose this battle. Milosh looks to Carrick as they charge and thinks of sacrifices.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and unleashes a divine blast, a power given to him by the Inevitable, the power that is prophecied to be able to strike down Primus himself. It rushes out of him, and many of their own soldiers die in the blast as it expands out to 60 feet. It tears through the final stand of the Undead. It washes over Carrick, bringing him to his knees... but Carrick stands again, and together with Milosh, they rush the Corpse Flowers, and begin cutting them down.

This is the turning point in the battle. With the Corpse Flowers cut down, the Yuan Ti army in confusion, and the demons outnumbered by the dragons and the remaining alliance, it seems that the heroes have won through!

But Abenthy has only been stalling for time.

From Above

A roar froze everyone in the midst of battle, causing even the Balor to pause mid strike, and turn towards the mountain. Tentacles were erupting all over the mountainside, ripping through space. And emerging...

... no, thought Carrick, covered in the stench-ridden blood of the corpse flowers. No, we have come too far to fail now.

But failed they had, for the battle had only all been a delay, a tactic designed to weaken them in time to summon forth the Tarrasque.

And not just the Tarrasque. Even as the great beast emerged from the portal being ripped in the side of the Jarlberg, the clouded skies split open and a rumble rolled across the battlefield.

Carrick knew what was coming. Abenthy himself was entering the battlefield. Given the power of a god, he was coming to smite those who had been foolish enough to defy him. Carrick fell to his knees, feeling hopelessness wash over him, as the god’s voice split through the sky.

But it was not Abenthy’s voice. It was a battlecry:

“FOR ALDRIC, AND THE GREEN COMPANY!”

Carrick raised his eyes once more skyward, in time to see, not a god coming to smite them, but ships. Dozens of ships, breaking through the atmosphere. And, at their head, one mighty vessel which looked remarkably familiar. The surveyor’s ship, which had taken them across the planets and into the very Abyss itself. It had once been unnamed, but now bright gold letters crossed its hull, spelling out a name Aldric would have been proud of: The Anope.

(DMs note: for those who have forgotten, which is probably everyone except my players, Anope was Aldric’s horse back when he first joined the party)

Then a very familiar voice came cascading over the battlefield:

“Seem to be in a tight spot, gentlemen!” came the cry of Roger Krisp, “What you need is a little help and maybe some of my patented cereal! Captain Krispies! Sure to put a pep in your step! And it comes with prizes. And today, that prize is anti-armor bombardment! Cover your butts!”

And as he spoke, the ships opened fire, launching enough missiles, energy blasts, lasers, and bombs to destroy the rest of Abenthy’s army and even finally take down the Tarrasque.

Who lives? Who dies? I said I’d say at the end of the post, but I maybe kinda sorta lied. I’ll share next time, though, when I’ll also share our final battle against Abenthy, which takes place in a very strange and unique battlefield, and we reach the long awaited conclusion to our campaign.

Thank you so so much for reading this far. We’ll see you at the finish line.

[scrumptiousalpacadeer]

Paul Thomas Anderson’s THE MASTER and what it may teach us about  mind-control vs freedom Post-Covid

So last night I watched The Master. It was a most pleasing way to spend a Saturday evening; alone, with two cats draped on the sofa and windowsill respectively, and it rounded off a pretty pedestrian Saturday mostly spent mowing and raking the lawn and scattering grass seed whilst *Boo finished reading Jacqueline Wilson’s Rose Rivers whilst occasionally appearing at the back door to yell; ‘mama, you’re driving me nuts with your gardening!’ Somehow I’d been looking forward to scattering my grass seed all week - the promise of moist new green growth on our dusty brown patches. Thing is - and there is a lesson in here somewhere - the grass seed box said it covered 10m square - I guess I got a bit carried away and basically I ran out after one corner. So one corner of my lawn will look like Eden, and the rest will continue to look like some deserted Sicilian scrubland... That’s life, baby, I guess. 

So anyway, The Master....dear God. There are many ways I could go with this...Firstly undiluted, scope, wonder, singular sensitivity, impossible mastery, extreme importance and sheer exalting, agonising beauty of Paul Thomas Anderson’s films is the subject of another post. (I’m still on a high from the explosive visceral experience of watching Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood and that was, what, 5 years ago? 10 years ago?) Then The Master came out in 2012 and P.T.A. raised his game even more. 

I could, and will another time, talk about the astonishing gift Joaquin Phoenix afforded the world with his embodiment of his character, Freddie Quell. (I say ‘embodiment’; ‘performance’ always strikes me as an incorrect way of describing an actors full immersion in an imagined character’s inner life.) To my mind, Freddie is one of the most affecting, heart-breaking, occasionally funny and downright truthful portrayals of a ‘broken’ man; an exiled, psychologically damaged, wild and lonely spirit who roams the world, desperate for love and acceptance, clearly one of the great ‘un-belonging’ of the post-war world in America. In one the open scenes he simulates fucking an over-sized figure of woman carved in sand on a hot beach, for the amusement of his army pals. In the final scene of the film, after his long long incredible journey , we see him caressing this sand woman again, resting his next to a large sandy breast. Oh poor dear Freddy Quell; my tears ran with him last night; knowing myself in this second viewing of the film, to be so like him. Perhaps one day I will be able to shake Joaquin Phoenix’s hand and say ‘thankyou so much for Freddie.....’ I often feel like that with actors work that resonates through the bones. 

I could also talk about how Philip Seymour Hoffman was possibly the greatest screen actor of his time, and how crazy it was that the world didn’t seem to mourn his tragic early death. Was it perhaps because he died of an accidental heroine overdose? - and this, well, didn’t sit very well with Hollywood. His embodiment here of Lancaster Dodd, charismatic leader of philosophical cult movement The Cause, is breath-taking. But then all his performances were breath-taking. I had a dream about him once (whole other post entitled CELEBRITY DREAMS coming your way); we were kind of friends even though I knew he was dead and his face kept appearing on billboards all over London. If, when; I meet him in the spirit world, I’d like to shake his hand and thank him for Lancaster Dodd and Brandt in The Big Lebowski, and Truman Capote, and also for providing me with one of the most pivotal theatre experiences of my life. August 2001, Edinburgh Festival, I witnessed his production of Jesus Hopped The A Train at The Gilded Balloon; this was running gold theatre. Within half a second of the play ending the entire full house erupted to it’s feet like we’d all been tasered from the floor. Thank you Philip...you gave me faith then that theatre is important; that art comes from dark places and revives...

I could talk about the astonishing crashing score composed by Radiohead’s guitarist Jonny Greenwood.

I could also talk about Amy Adam’s terrifying portrayal of Lancaster’s icy wife Peggy and her utterly brilliant final put-down to Freddie: “you either do this for a billion years, or not at all...” (she’s referencing Freddie’s abandonment of the cult she’s set up with her husband, but this line, I feel, could apply to motherhood...….)

                                                  * * * * * * * * * *

 It usually takes me two viewings for a films deeper meaning to seep in, and last night I was struck by what I see as the heart of the film. The core of the film is relationship between Freddie Quell and Lancaster Dodd; it’s an uncompromising study of male vulnerability and the cosmic search for ‘a father figure’...  On a bigger scale, its about how those in positions of assumed power and influence ( Dodd) rely on the adoration and worship of those whom society deem ‘worthless’ (Quell). It’s about the fragility and corruption of a society whereby a man promises freedom and empowerment to his followers (Dodd devises a system of ‘processing’ whereby he takes initiates back to past traumas through a curious mixture of interrogation and hypnosis and ‘cures’ them; he posits that his vision can cure leukaemia and will bring about world peace) and how those ‘disadvantaged’, the great ‘unloved’ can be absorbed into such an attractive lifestyle. In one painful scene, Freddie is taken to a party at a mansion, filled with monied people and luxurious things. Freddie is dressed smartly for the occasion; but is sweating with nerves and orders a scotch at the earliest opportunity, before hiding away in a side room and stealing an ornament. It took me back to my own exile, when, at the age of 17 I landed at Brentwood Boys School in Essex, and cut off from my parents, shattered from my sister’s suicide and a lifetime of confusion, I nonetheless attended many a glorious party; a perfect size 10 and top of the class, I knew how to say all the right things. But, like Freddie, I knew I didn’t and wouldn’t ever fit it. Like him, I would often sneak off to the side rooms, get off my head drunk to hide my shame and hopeless, and cause some fight..

In the end, despite himself, Freddie starts to see through Lancaster’s bullshit and returns to his life on the road. Though The Cause had given him a home, suits and ties, friendship, respect and a certain ‘standing’ that he could only have dreamed of, as he confesses to Peggy at the end, before returning to his own brand of personal lonely freedom; ‘it’s just not how I look’.  

                                                        * * * * * * * 

“Don’t you know, They’re talking about a revolution it sounds like a whisper Don’t you know you’d better run run run run run run run run.....” Tracey Chapman 

Talkin’ About A Revolution

What I find heartening and deeply exciting about these early post-Covid times, as the first chinks of sunlight pour in through windows that have separated us from friends, lovers, fellow man for so long, is that people are choosing freedom. In small ways, perhaps, but I get the overall sense that for many people, fear has had its day. As my dear friend said over tea the other day; ‘people are thinking fuck this, fuck it, we wanna fuck’....well, exactly. 

It was this dear friend I met up with in her wood a few weeks ago; we hugged each other day, and it was such a joyous relief to see her I told her that if I got the virus and killed me, oh fuck it, it would be worth it, just to sit next to her by a river on a sunny day...

I’ve had two other conversations lately to support my little theory; a particularly cheerful friend of mine turned up with her daughter unannounced on my doorstep couple of weeks back  - they had a bag of clothes; would Boo like them? Initially we did the ‘2 m’ thing, paying homage to THE RULES as dictated by the blessed government of this land; I hovered on the threshold of my kitchen - she stood outside by the flower-pots. Then I broke the rules; ‘look, do you wanna come in?’ - That was it. The ice was broken - and she stood, blond, beaming and glorious with her big sunglasses on, in my little kitchen - along with her daughter and mine, and I could literally have feasted forever on the sheer joyous fleshiness of having three other living homo sapiens near me. That sunny day in early June, two women in a small village in Sussex chose freedom. ‘I’ve just had enough of all this virus stuff’ she said ‘I’m even dreaming about it! I’ve just had enough’. 

Then last week a friend came over with her three glorious girl children and told me how her youngest, a endlessly sweet six yr old, had ‘hidden behind a tree with her friend so that they could have a hug’. Lets think about that for a moment; six years olds hiding behind trees to have a hug. Its pretty damn sad. And weird. This friend had been on full on paranoid lockdown due to one of the children’s potential serious health issues - but she’d reached breaking point. ‘I’ve had enough’ she said. And that day her girls and my daughter raced up and down the stairs and around the garden in glorious flagrance of any state prescribed social distancing rules. 

                                                * * * * * * * * * * * 

In the end, Freddie breaks free from his master’s and The Cause’s control and continues - we assume -  his lonely drift around the world. In their final agonising meeting, Lancaster reveals the smashed ungenerous ego of a despot thwarted by his adoring lover: ‘if I meet you in a future life I will show you no mercy, you will be my sworn enemy’. Freddie, emaciated, tearful and ever desperate to belong, asks Lancaster to reveal to him how and where they’d met in a previous life... He knows it’s bullshit, in the way I knew my father was incapable of loving me, but when you’ve got a Krakatoa sized hole in your heart, you just can’t stop hoping somehow...pledging allegiance to a resplendent asshole is somehow better than our greatest fear; the abyss of loneliness and isolation. Lets face it; freedom is pretty terrifying after such a long stretch of captivity. 

That’s the thing in these Covid times; we always have a choice. We have a choice now, whether to be continue to be afraid or whether to choose freedom. Whether to cut loose and go racing into the desert on a motorbike back to his first love, like Freddie does, following his own destiny, not succumbing to control forces that on the surface entice him into a richer more glamorous life. 

And I’m not talking about being an complete idiot and denying there’s a serious virus still on the loose, or hugging scared people in the street to prove a point, and I’m not denying  that many people are extremely vulnerable - I’m talking about something entirely different; that deep inner decision that calls in all of us - whether to choose the uncharted waters of freedom, or rest in an all-too familiar fear zone. 

To conclude, my dear friend Matilda sent me this book ‘Big Magic - Creative Living By Fear’ by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat Pray Love (I’ve just watched the film its rather good I think...) Anyway, there’s this great chapter called Fear Is Boring which rang through me, growing up as I did drenched in the anxiety of a Munchausen Syndrome-by-proxy mother (WHOLE other post...) - but here’s what she says about the time, age fifteen, she ‘wised up’ to fear and chose another way: 

“I noticed that my fear never changed, never delighted, never offered a surprise twist or an unexpected ending. My fear was a song with only one note - only one word, actually - and that word was “STOP!” 

Dear reader, I’m shitting myself with the best of them, but I’ve had enough of fear. I’m not stopping. I’m going. What do you say?..... xxxx 

Big love from Christine 

[aphrodaisyacs]

Summary:

In a different universe, the ship that descends upon Earth to abduct Peter belongs to Thanos. In a different universe, Gamora hitches a ride with the Ravagers to escape her war-torn planet.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Major Character Death Categories: F/M, Gen Fandoms: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Relationships: Gamora/Peter Quill, Peter Quill & Thanos, Gamora & Yondu Udonta, Nebula & Peter Quill, Mantis & Peter Quill Characters: Peter Quill, Gamora (Marvel), Thanos (Marvel), Yondu Udonta, Mantis (Marvel), Nebula (Marvel), Ego the Living Planet Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Thanos vs Ego Custody Battle, Implied underage drinking, Yondu’s A+ Parenting, Thanos’ A+ Parenting, Torture, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Filicide

1000 years later it’s finally done BUT HEY I got it out before Endgame so that’s something, right?

Full chapter below:

When Peter first met Thanos, it went like this:

He thought Thanos was his father.

One of the first things Thanos said to him was “You don’t belong here. You belong with the stars.”

(“You belong with the stars, Peter. Just like your daddy.”)

One of the first things Thanos did was coax the light out of Peter’s hands.

“Now close your eyes and concentrate- reach your mind out to the galaxy.”

(“He was an angel. Composed of pure light.”)

It made him ignore the way Thanos’ shadow loomed like Death in the dark mist.

It made him miss the fact that the giant hands cupping his face out of pride were also muffling his Grandpa’s frantic calls for him.

So when Thanos reached out a hand just as the light from above engulfed them both…

Peter reached back.

When Gamora first met Yondu, it went like this:

“Please! It’s just the two of us! I might not have much but I can also cook and clean!”

“You think you’re the first one to say that, woman? Well I got one word for you: Scram!”

“No please, then just my daughter- Gamora, she’s only eight!”

“For the last time, no! Ugh, all the the cheap fuel in this shithole ain’t worth this.”

“Please, I beg you- I’ll do anything, just let Gamora get out of here safely! She- she can even be your slave, just take her somewhere else!”

Yondu, like most Ravagers, had a notoriously short temper. And like most Ravagers, that temper tended to be explosive- violent, and sometimes even deadly.

It was rare then, to see his anger run colder than ice.

Gamora found herself torn away from her mother’s grip with such force that she nearly fell face-first onto the dirt.

“I’ll take the girl then.”

“Can I visit Grandpa?” Peter learnt not to ask.

“Your grandfather hates you,” Thanos always said. “He blames you for your mother’s death because you couldn’t control your powers.”

“But that’s not true!” Peter learnt not to say, as his memories of firm hugs smelling like cigarette smoke faded after each day.

“I miss Earth,” Peter learnt not to say.

“Why?” Thanos always said. “There’s nothing left for you there. Now you have the galaxy within your reach.”

But the only thing within Peter’s reach was the warm light that pulsed within him and the cold, dead ground beneath his feet.

“I just want to go home,” Peter never said. Because he wasn’t even sure what that meant anymore.

Perhaps it meant nights where he played his walkman as he laid in his cot, pretending that he was lying on the grass as his mother, happy and alive, shared her music with him. Or perhaps it meant nights where he carefully held his mother’s unopened present, before the guilt forced him to shove it back into his backpack.

For Peter, home was the pieces of his mother’s memory that Thanos hadn’t taken away from him. Home was what Peter had left to remember that even if his family did hate him like Thanos said…  

His mother did love him, once upon a time.

*

Peter hated Ebony.

When Thanos first introduced him to his new older brother, he had told Peter that Ebony would help him get stronger. Ebony’s knife-sharp grin and the power woven from his spidery fingers promised exactly that, and something else entirely.

Thanos told Ebony to spar with Peter. Ebony twisted the walls from around them and threw them at Peter, again and again, until he passed out from the pain. Next time he flipped the ground from beneath their feet and crushed Peter under it until he could no longer breathe. But just before the world was swallowed by darkness, light erupted desperately from Peter’s entire being, obliterating his earthen prison. It wasn’t enough though, because the world was still spinning and Peter’s fumbling control over his powers protected him against Ebony about as well as a sheet of paper against pouring rain.

Again and again, Peter tried to fight back. But again and again, he woke up with yet another body part damaged beyond repair. Yet another body part to be replaced by metal.

“You have powers, little one,” Thanos said. He looked disappointed. Peter felt a twinge where his heart used to be. “Why don’t you use them?”

Peter didn’t even know if he was improving or not. He just fought and fought and fought, as hard as he could.

Until one day, he managed to finally wrestle the needles of light from Ebony’s control and turn them against him. He even made them into the shape of a giant shark because he could.

“Well done, my son,” Thanos smiled. They watched the blood get mopped off the training room floors. It was what happened when your legs got bitten off by a shark, real or not.

Thanos found it amusing. It was the second time he had ever looked at Peter with such pride.

Peter wanted to smile back. But victory tasted bitter, like blood.

*

Nebula was Peter’s favourite sibling.

There wasn’t much competition, really- Proxima and Corvus always looked at him as if he was a squashed bug. Cull always looked at him as if he was a bug to be squashed. And the less said about Ebony the better.

Nebula only sparred against him on the occasions where Thanos wanted Peter to focus on his hand-to-hand. Whenever he won, she got dragged away and returned more metal, less flesh. Whenever she won, Peter got dragged away back to Ebony.

But outside of the training grounds, Nebula always hovered curiously in his peripheral, just out of reach. They did talk, but she was always so tense, wary, like she was expecting to be hurt. It reminded Peter of the stray cats in his old neighbourhood that he had tried to feed and pet, before his Grandpa found out and shooed them away. She even had that same glimmer of hope in her eyes when Peter didn’t betray the inch of trust that she reluctantly gave him.

So she practically bristled and hissed at him when he tried to share his mother’s music with her.

“What’s this?”

“It’s my walkman.”

“But it doesn’t have legs and it’s not a man.”

“No, you’re supposed to use it for music. Here.”

She looked at the headphones he held out as if they were going to electrocute her, but she slowly slipped them on.

Having a new friend, a new sister, made Peter’s new life more bearable. In between missions where Thanos sent them out to kill, they huddled together in quiet corners to listen to Peter’s walkman. They never spoke to each other in those moments- Peter, too busy grasping at the bittersweet memories of his mother’s toothy grin and her twinkling blue eyes. Nebula, he wasn’t sure; he could only assume that she too considered the soft, crooning voices of 10cc to be a cocoon of safety from their living hell.

*

Peter sparred. He fought. He was broken into pieces, then put together again.

He clung to his music until his walkman became just as much of a part of him as his blades and the warm light thrumming in his veins.  

He killed.

And killed.

He killed until he became Star-Lord, the most feared assassin in the galaxy.

Gamora was ten the first time she and Yondu fought.

It wasn’t the first time he had raised his voice at her- far from it. Yondu always seemed to find one thing or the other to yell at her for, especially in front of the other Ravagers. And most of the time, nothing stopped her from screaming back.

But it was the first time his bark was accompanied by his bite.

“Kraglin! Take this thing out and shut the damn door before it can get back in!”

“No! Leave Stripe alone! Give him back to me!”

“Does this ship look like a zoo to you? You’re lucky I caught it before we took off. You bring one more mutt on board and we’re dumping you at the next stop, ya hear me?”

“Stripe’s my friend! Just because you don’t have any-”

“When I picked you up as a kid, these boys wanted to eat you. Zehoberei are so rare they’re a treat now. I stopped ‘em. You’re alive because of me!”

“What do you care anyway? You only keep me around ‘cause I’m a slave you got for free!”

But he didn’t continue yelling, like she had come to expect. Instead, she was met with silence.

Until…

“...You think you know a damn thing about what being a slave’s like? Huh? You think you get to throw that word ‘round like you know what it means?!”

His voice rose with his anger, but his words became more frigid. The red fire in Yondu’s eyes turned cold as stone.

Even Gamora couldn’t help but shiver.

She sometimes wondered if she had imagined the Yondu whose anger stung sharper than frostbite- the man who had taken her from her mother. It was a side of him that she never saw again, until that moment.

(Years later, she would find out that Yondu had been sold as a slave when he was a baby)

(Years later, she would look back at this moment and feel that she might understand him, just a little more)

*

Gamora’s mum used to tell her that she was too curious for her own good. Too inquisitive. But she always smiled when she said it, running her fingers down her daughter’s hair to tease the knots out of the deep red curls.

Once, when Yondu wasn’t looking, Gamora tried to use his arrow. She hid away in a half-forgotten storage room and tried to fly the arrow in a deadly streak of red, just the way Yondu did it. But no matter how hard she whistled, the arrow wouldn’t budge. It didn’t take long for Yondu to find her, spitting anger from his lips to hide the worry in his eyes.

Gamora clenched her fists and waited to be left behind on the ship at their next stop.

But instead, Yondu took her in one hand and a crate of weapons in the other to an isolated part of the woods. For a horrifying moment she thought she was being walked to her execution- for touching that damn arrow? Really?

But when they stop, Gamora found a blaster shoved into her hands.

She stared at it.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

“... You’re gonna teach me how to shoot them?”

“‘Course I am! You’re a Ravager, ain’t ya? Now get over here before I change my mind.”

It would take years for her to realise that Yondu spoke his heart through his actions, not his words. He barked at her for every mistake she made, but he always grinned when she got it right. And after she hit her first bird in the tree on the other side of the clearing, he laughed and poured Gamora her first glass of ale.

For the first time since leaving Zen-Whoberi, she grinned back.

*

Loneliness was a familiar friend.

Gamora was just a girl amongst Ravagers, and every time she stepped onto a different planet she found her eyes searching for familiar dark red curls framing green skin. She was just a girl amongst Ravagers, and the only women she could talk to were the occasional prostitutes. They were usually really nice to her though, and she’d learnt to appreciate the genuine smiles behind smudged lipstick as they gave her life advice.

But in the end, they always left.

Gamora dreamt about leaving too. She dreamt about running away, stealing a ship and flying away. Perhaps she’d try finding her mother; a part of her hoped that she was still alive, and they’ll meet again someday. But then she’d remember that the last time they saw each other, the woman she had loved and trusted with all her heart tried to sell her to Yondu. As a slave. Gamora’s mind knew it was a desperate attempt to get her off the planet safely, but her heart still stung at the memory.

Then one day, Gamora’s dream came true.

She did steal a ship. And she did fly away. And Yondu went ballistic, just like she knew he would.

(Except he wasn’t angry, not really. Months later, the package he sent her contained a single switchblade- dual blades connecting at a red-studded hilt. It told her, more than words could, that he was proud that she could take care of herself)

*

Gamora kept a collection of knives, most of which she’d nicked from unsuspecting pockets. She also kept a collection of guns, most of which she’d slipped off bar counters when ignorant backs were turned. But no matter how much she gambled, what she sold off, her switchblade remained her greatest treasure- a priceless piece she always kept sheathed close to her heart.

In between jobs, she drifted through the galaxy. She was a thief and a smuggler and she was freer than she had ever been.

But she was still a Ravager at heart, and being alone was its own cage. She never started her own clan, even years after leaving Yondu’s. She never even formed a crew for her ship.

Loneliness was a familiar friend, after all.

Peter is eighteen when Thanos gains a new enemy.

It begins with a lost shipment of supplies. Then another. And another. Then several Chitauri ships get destroyed. Again and again. An incident here and there, spread out over the years, seemingly at random.

Peter has the feeling that Thanos knows exactly who the culprit is, even though he never acts on it. Immediately after each incident, Thanos always orders Peter to the training grounds before sitting back, a silent spectator in every fight. As if it is somehow Peter’s fault that the attacks are happening.

Thanos never acts on it, until one day, Corvus and Proxima’s latest attempt to retrieve the Mind Stone fails.

He summons Peter, and gives him a new mission.

A Celestial, Thanos’ warning rings through Peter’s mind.

Ego.

*

When Peter first meets his real father, it goes like this:

“It is you. Star-Lord. After all these years, I’ve found you.”

“...Why the hell are you so happy to see me? I’m here to kill you.”

“Of course you are! Now tell me, your name’s Peter isn’t it? That’s what your mother wanted to name you.”

Ego is his real father. His real father who, after hearing of an assassin whose powers are eerily similar to his own, was infuriated to learn about the weapon that Thanos had forged his son into.

“So I had to get on his bad side somehow,” Ego says. “He’s always sending his so-called ‘Children’ off to do the dirty work for him. I’ve been waiting for the day he sends you to me.”

Ego is his real father, who has finally come to take him home.

For the first time since living amongst the stars, Peter allows himself to hope.

*

At first, Peter doesn’t know what to think of Ego’s companion.

Mantis is eager, yet timid. Her smiles are forced, yet her eyes are kind. She shrinks back from Ego whenever he turns her way, yet she can put him to sleep with a single touch.

“Ego found me in my larva state,” she tells Peter, antennas twitching as she answers his unspoken curiosity. “Orphaned on my homeworld. He raised me by hand, and kept me.”

Peter thinks about Thanos, who took him from his family in the wake of his mother’s death. Raised him with blood and death, and kept him, like an attack dog.

Ego is very vocal about his agreement with Peter’s inner sentiments, and when he isn’t throwing insults at the Mad Titan he is reminiscing about Meredith Quill. Peter had daydreamed about this, having a real dad to whisk him away to a better life, one where they just… get to spend time with each other. One where his Celestial powers could be used as a ball in catch rather than a blade at someone’s neck.

(One where Thanos is little more than a distant memory)

Everything is perfect.

Almost.

Peter doesn’t notice Mantis meekly fading into the background, but he does notice that the more Ego shows him around the planet, the more she hunches her shoulders and wrings her hands. And when he does manage to catch her gaze, her dark eyes are wide with guilt and regret.

He forces himself to look away- she’s staring at him as if she’s mourning him.

*

“Something’s going on. What is it?”

Mantis chokes under his grip.

“You’re… you’re not scared.” She sounds almost confused. “You’re… betrayed.”

Peter abruptly lets go.

“You know,” he hisses instead. “Whatever it is, you know.”

She doesn’t deny it. It’s as if she’s been waiting for him to confront her.

In the night, after putting Ego to sleep, Mantis leads Peter through a maze of underground caves.

She leads him right to a mountain of skeletons.

“... Who are they?” Peter asks when he’s finally able to breathe again.

“His children. Because they can’t use his powers.” She swallows. “The only reason I’m not with them is because I’m still useful.”

He stares down at his hands.

“But I…”

She shakes her head. Even in the dark, he can see the tears glistening in her eyes.

“He wants to use you like a battery. He doesn’t have enough power by himself to…”

“To what?”

But Mantis doesn’t get to tell him, because striding up behind them, Ego answers for her.

*

Peter sees and feels nothing but white.

He’s being drained, but he is overflowing. He knows there’s pain, but his mind has been swallowed by the universe.

“Peter!”

A sharp tug, and suddenly he’s in the hallway again. His breath evens out and everything slides into focus again, including the armoured figure of Thanos.

His heart sinks.

No.

“Get off my planet, you thief,” Ego snarls.

“Not until I’ve taken back what belongs to me.”

“He’s my son.”

“You didn’t raise him.”

“Oh I’ve heard about you- the Mad Titan, a bloodthirsty menace, a plague upon the universe. Do you really think you can win against me, on my own planet?”

Thanos raises his blade in answer.

It is terrifying and thrilling all at once- the battle between the god made of light and the Mad Titan whose shadow reeks of death. The ground beneath them trembles with terror and the air roars their mutual fury.

In another world, Peter might have stayed to save the universe.

But in this one, he has no choice but to run.

*

Peter had come to Ego’s planet in search of a father, and now he’s leaving with a sister in tow.

He is already halfway across the galaxy with Mantis in their stolen ship when he suddenly feels it-

It’s as if something has been unplugged from him; the light which had steadily pulsed in his veins for as long as he can remember, suddenly…

Gone.

In that moment he knows - he no longer has his powers.

The powers that Thanos had stolen him from Earth for. The powers that Ego wanted to use to warp the universe.

Gone.

Peter feels as if every inch of his being has been scraped raw. He’s empty now. Empty, but clean.

If Ego had lost, then that means Thanos is after Peter. But without his powers, without his strongest weapon, he’s useless now. Disposable, even. Because Thanos doesn’t collect his failures in a mountain of bones, he crushes them beneath his feet until his footsteps are stained by their blood.

So Peter runs.

*

Gamora is twenty-three when she nearly dies snatching the Orb from right under Korath’s nose. She considers herself lucky, really- it’s only her second near-death experience this month. And the Orb is definitely worth more than enough to get her back on her feet again after her latest spree at the Aeon Casino.

Of course she isn’t handing it over to Yondu.

“I slaved putting this deal together-”

“You made a few calls is what you did-”

“-and now you’re gonna rip me off!”

“-but I’m the one who doesn’t know what ‘slaved’ means?”

“We do not do that to each other. We’re Ravagers. We got a code.”

“What code? We’re nothing more than honourless thieves.”

They shout at each other until Gamora cuts the call in a huff. She squashes down the churning guilt because she needs the money, more than Yondu does.

But as she speeds her way towards Xandar, it is hard not to feel bad when her only companion is the white noise of the Milano’s thrumming engine.

*

When Gamora first meets her best friends, it happens like this:

Nebula is trying to kill her over that damn Orb.

Rocket and Groot are after her bounty because she didn’t hand that damn Orb over to Yondu.

The moment Peter and Mantis see that damn Orb, they shed their tourist disguises.

As the cherry on top of the chaotic mess unravelling around her, Gamora’s chance to escape manifests in the form of an unexpected family reunion between two of her attackers.

“You. You traitor! Get away from the Orb, you don’t deserve it!”

“Look, I’m sorry, I really am, but the universe doesn’t deserve to be destroyed by Thanos.”

“I thought you were my brother. But you left me. You left me and replaced me!”

“Ugh no, Mantis isn’t- I’m sorry, okay? Look, I know what this looks like, but it’s kind of a long story which I’ll tell you, if you let me have the Orb. You can even join us, if you want, and Thanos can go screw himself.”

If Gamora had been paying attention to the drama, she would’ve noticed the way Nebula’s indecision hangs in the air. Instead, she continues crawling towards the Orb, determined to leave unnoticed with her prize.

But just as her fingertips graze the metal casing, all hell breaks loose.

Her body is suddenly on fire and her muscles seize up. Rocket’s cackling rings in her ears and Nebula’s angry cries pound against her skull. Gamora can’t even tell if the darkness enveloping her is the loss of consciousness or the burlap sack Groot has been dragging around.

In Gamora’s third near-death experience that month, she passes out before getting arrested with the misfits she’ll learn to value with her life.

*

Peter can almost taste the anger buzzing in the air. Next to him, he feels Mantis shrink back from the jeers pelted at them from every direction.

His fingers twitch for his confiscated blades.

“You first!”

“You first, Nebula!”

Their eyes spit acid, their lips drip hatred.

Nebula snarls back at the other prisoners with just as much venom. Out of habit Peter finds himself reaching a comforting hand out to her arm, but he stops when she turns her glare on him as well.

Her glares keep everyone away, but Peter is nothing if not a stubborn asshole when he wants to be.

“Nebula-”

“I’m not listening to the traitor who ran away like a coward,” she spits.

“I know. I’m sorry. But I had to leave, because Thanos would’ve killed me if I hadn’t.”

“You? His precious, half-Celestial son? You’re his favourite.”

“Ha! Not anymore. I’m basically useless to him right now.”

Nebula narrows her eyes at him.

“How?”

Peter shrugs.

“Like I’ve said, long story. Maybe I’ll get the chance to tell you after we escape, if that raccoon isn’t talking out of his ass.”

Unexpectedly, Nebula hesitates.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know where you’re going. But after I leave this place, I’m going back to Ronan.”

“No.”

“I have a mission to complete.”

“No. If Ronan gets that stone, he’ll kill us all.”

“Then I’m going straight to Thanos.”

“That’s even worse. Come on, Nebula, please- you don’t have to do this.”

Her answering silence makes his heart sink. But Peter is nothing if not a stubborn asshole when he wants to be, and he’s going to change her mind.

*

They break out of The Kyln, but Peter goes back for his walkman.

(Nebula stays)

*

“Why would you risk your life for this?”

Peter smiles wryly down at the strange box-like device in his hands.

“My mother gave it to me. I… I don’t have much left from Earth.”

Gamora’s curiosity is drowned out by a wave of sympathy.

“Did Thanos destroy your home planet too?”

“Oh, no. It’s kinda weird, now that I think about it, but the only thing he took from Earth was me. He must’ve thought that a half-Celestial would be useful. Not that I’m much more than a normal human at this point.”

Oh.

“So that… thing. What do you do with it?”

There’s another part to that box-like device- it looks like a headband, and Peter eases it onto her head like one. A melody engulfs her ears, and under the sky of stars and colours she finds herself pulled into a slow dance before she even realises it.

It’s… pleasant.

She likes this side of him, the side which doesn’t seem so cold and hardened. His eyes, a soft and pleasant green, look so much warmer up close like this when their breaths are almost touching.

But a sudden crash shatters the moment. Gamora feels exasperation well up within her when she realises who the shouting belongs to- can’t Nebula and Rocket play nice for just a minute?

She turns around to look back at Peter, and tries not to feel too disappointed at the way his expression has closed off again.

*

Seeing Yondu again is like falling back into old habits. It is getting into a shouting match with him again, it is standing tall against the jeers of the other Ravagers. It is being held at arrowpoint and striking a deal with him: the safety of millions of lives, for the Orb.

Yondu’s grin is sharp when he claps her on the back, but his eyes twinkle with amusement and pride.

*

They are a complete mess, all of them. They are jagged puzzle pieces that refuse to fit together.

They are going to stop Ronan from wiping out billions of innocent lives.

A bunch of jackasses, standing in a circle.

Friends who are ready to die for each other.

*

“We are Groot.”

*

There is no dance-off. There is only Gamora, and her attempt to entrap Ronan into a debate about his actions. There is only Gamora, and her distraction allowing for Mantis to sneak up and put him in a trance through a firm squeeze around his fingers.

And then Rocket fires at the Infinity Stone.

*

Mantis is the first to grab the Stone. Ego’s planet might be dead but she is still part-Celestial, even if she never had access to the powers. Gamora, the next closest, manages to grab onto her friend’s smouldering skin soon after.

Struggling against the power and pain electrifying every cell of her body, Gamora barely manages to make out the figure of Peter fighting to get closer.

“Peter! Take my hand!”

(“Take my hand, Peter.”)

“Mum.”

“Take my hand!”

Peter reaches back.

*

The blue ribbon unravels from its knot. It’s been twenty years, and Peter thinks he finally might be able to tear off the wrapping without trembling fingers.

Awesome Mix Vol. 2

The cassette tape slots in with a soft click, and a few seconds later Marvin Gaye’s voice drifts from the speakers.

He stares, entranced, at the slowly-spinning tape, and tries to blink away the emotions blurring his vision.

His trained ears pick up on the footfalls from leather boots, and he looks up to see Nebula. She looks back with hard unreadable eyes, but the tension in her shoulders give away her uncertainty.

Peter scoots over on the bench, and she wordlessly sits down next to him.

They don’t say anything.

They listen.

*

“So,” Peter begins, leaning against the top of Gamora’s seat. “What should we do next? Something good? Something bad? A bit of both?”

She tilts her head back. His face looks a bit odd from this angle, but it’s definitely something she can get used to.

“Hm… how about a bit of both?”

Peter smiles back.

“Whatever you say, Captain.”

“Your father killed my brother.”

“Stop! Peter hates him just as much as you do.”

“Yeah, and he’s not my father. He killed my real father too, actually. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but still.”

And a part of Peter, twisting in a sickening knot in his stomach, suspects that Thanos has killed Nebula too- because there’s no way she’d ignore their comm calls for two weeks straight.

He stiffens when he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He doesn’t expect to see the sincerity in Thor’s remaining eye.

“Families can be tough.”

A complete stranger shouldn’t understand, but for some reason Peter believes that Thor genuinely does. He allows his initial dislike of the man to soften a bit.

Just a bit.

*

“I need to ask a favour.”

Gamora pauses in the middle of sharpening of her favourite switchblade. She has never seen Peter look so grim, even in the early days of knowing him.

“What is it?”

“If things go wrong- if Thanos gets me… promise me you’ll kill me.”

“... What?”

“I know something he doesn't. Something he can’t find out. Ever.”

Gamora’s heart sinks.

“What do you know?”

Peter shakes his head.

“If I tell you, you’d be in danger too.”

Gamora reaches out to squeeze his hand.

“We’re already in danger together.”

He doesn’t squeeze back. He removes his hand. She stiffens from the sting of rejection.

“This is different. And I want you- need you to live.”

“Peter-”

“Promise me you’ll kill me.”

Gamora shakes her head, and stops trying to hold back her tears.

“This isn’t fair.”

“Gamora- please-” Peter takes her forgotten switchblade, and gently curls her fingers around it.

He pulls her hand towards himself, his hand encased around her fingers, encased around her blade.

“Promise me,” he whispers.

It feels like forever before Gamora finally nods.

Their kiss tastes like goodbye.

*

“Let him go.”

The world is on fire, and the air is choked with smoke. Thanos grins. Gamora tightens her grip on her blaster.

“Ah, the girlfriend.”

“Gamora…” Peter wheezes out.

“Let. Him. Go.”

“Gamora… not him.”

No.

This can’t be happening.

“You promised.”

This isn’t fair.

Thanos speaks, but she ignores him. She stares at Peter instead, taking in his pleading eyes and his tear-stained face.

This isn’t how she wants to remember him.

“I love you, more than anything.” Her voice cracks, but she doesn’t sob.

Peter doesn’t deserve this- he deserves to die at an old age after a long fulfilling life, or even in the middle of one of their grand, reckless, saving-people adventures.

The only thing she can give him is a quick death.

She slides her blaster back into its holster.

She draws out her switchblade.

And lunges.

But the blade smacks uselessly against something hard with a sharp crack.

Gamora stills. There’s suddenly a thick steel wall blocking her from Peter.

No.

She throws herself at it, determined to cut it open, push it away, anything.

“Peter!”

“You’re quite the fighter,” Thanos says from the other side. “I like you.”

“No! Peter!”

The wall eventually dissolves, but by the time she lands on her bruised and bleeding knuckles, they’re already long gone.

*

“I thought you might be hungry.”

Peter stares numbly at the small bowl of gruel. He can’t even muster the energy to feel offended.

“Thought you could get rid of me with poison now that I’m just a weak human?”

“I wouldn’t waste food like that. Besides, you’re more than just your Celestial powers, Peter.”

He recoils from Thanos’ words.

“That… sounds exactly like something someone who actually gives a damn about me would say. But coming from you- ”

“And what makes you so sure I don’t ‘give a damn’ about you?”

Thanos actually looks genuinely curious. Peter can’t believe this.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You took me from my family when I was just a kid-”

“I saved you. They were scared of you, because of your powers.”

“My mum had just died. I watched her- we watched her. Grandpa was going to raise me-”

“She died because of you. You couldn’t control your powers. And you ran away from them, which was how I found you. I was the first to see the worth of your powers. Of you.”

“Bullshit.”

Peter never needed anyone to see the worth of those powers. His time with the Guardians of the Galaxy had taught him as much.

(But that doesn’t stop the slight twist in his chest)

“Who comforted you after the heavier sparring sessions with Ebony? Who fought Ego for you? You have no idea how painful it was to realise that you had run away with Ego’s other spawn. My victory was worth nothing because I had failed to bring you back home.”

Peter doesn’t say anything. He can’t. The twist in his chest has become painful.

“I care about you, my son. I always have. The least you can do is tell me where the Soul Stone is.”

Peter’s knuckles are white when he raises his chin at Thanos.

“No.”

*

“Vormir!”

Blue and purple lights fade, but Peter’s mind is still ringing with the echoes of Nebula’s screams and the rattles of her metal parts. He takes a shaky step closer to where his sister has been strung up, each part of her taken apart and put on display. The design cruelly reminds Peter of the times he had won their fights- he did this to her, the display seems to accuse.

“The Stone is on Vormir,” he whispers, reaching out a comforting hand, but there isn’t a part of Nebula whole enough to place it.

“Show me.”

Peter doesn’t need to turn around to know that Thanos is grinning smugly.

*

When Gamora first meets the Avengers, it goes like this:

“I’m only going to ask you once- where’s Peter?”

The strange creature under Gamora’s headlock stiffens. She digs her blaster into his neck in response.

“Who- what- Peter?” he squeaks out. “Uh, nope, neverheardthatnamebefore-”

The armoured man’s helmet dissolves, revealing a pale, furious face.

“What do you want with him?”

“What do I want- Thanos took him. Now tell me where he is, or this one- ” She tightens her grip. “-is getting his head turned into a pile of mush.”

“Wait what,” Gamora’s hostage suddenly says.

“Thanos took him-? Wait. You think we’re with Thanos.”

“Aren’t you?”

But they aren’t, because they’re the Avengers. Thor’s friends. If Gamora was in her right mind she would’ve been embarrassed by the misunderstanding. But Thanos has once again burnt her world to hell and back, and she’s running on nothing but fury and determination.

She learns that the Terran adolescent she had held hostage is also named Peter, but that’s about where the similarities end.

She also learns that the Guardians of the Galaxy get along with the Avengers like oil and water, and she’s becoming increasingly convinced that their team-up will destroy the universe instead of saving it.  

Gamora sighs and turns away from Stark’s attempts to wrangle Drax’s attention.

She’ll just have to see if they’re in the one universe where they win.

*

Thanos’ tears aren’t genuine.

They can’t be.

“No. This isn’t love.”

Peter wants to run. He wants the dignity of dying before he can get killed.

“I’m sorry, little one.”

The howls of the icy winds swallow Peter’s screams and he can only struggle weakly against the iron-tight grip around his arm as he gets dragged closer and closer to the edge of the cliff.

The last thing he sees is the shadow of Death looming over him, if Death were capable of remorse.

He falls.

*

They have Thanos trapped.

Gamora steps towards him.

“I thought you’d be harder to catch. But I guess you aren’t so strong after all. Where is Peter?”

“My… Peter…?” Thanos rasps weakly.

“Where. Is. He.”

It is Mantis who realises it first.

“He’s in anguish…”

“Good.”

“He’s mourning… Peter…” Mantis whimpers and the lights in her antennae flicker.

Gamora sees red.

She faintly registers Stark speaking to her, but in that moment the only thing which exists in the world is her raw desire to hurt the man before her.

“You didn’t,” she spits. “You asshole. Tell me you didn’t!”

She whips her switchblade out, and she’s ready to slice his face open, gouge his eyes out until the blades are stained as red as the ruby-studded hilt.

But in that moment, a sob wracks through Mantis’ entire body and her face twists from the agony of being forced to grieve her dead brother through his murderer.

Her antennae flicker again, and so does her control over Thanos’ mind.

Thanos breaks free.

*

Gamora screams in rage and stumbles back onto her feet again, gripping onto her blaster like a lifeline.

“Where is he?”

He was right there. She nearly had him, she nearly-

But all she sees is Stark, propped up in his torn armour like a fallen soldier. He doesn’t look like a man gearing up for the last stretch of battle.

He looks like a man on the other end of it.

Gamora’s heart sinks to the barren earth beneath her feet.

“We lost.”

*

Gamora’s world crumbles into dust.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 008: Capture the Flag

Previously on BnHA: Deku won his homeroom teacher’s approval by sending a baseball into outer space. Recovery Girl was like, “stop breaking shit.” All the characters got their superhero costumes revealed EXCEPT FOR DEKU because the mangaka is a fucking tease.

Today on BnHA: All Might’s first class! The kids split into teams of two to play Capture the Flag Nuclear Device! And, oh yes

KACCHAN VS DEKU

(((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))

As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 11 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.

hold onto your butts, kids, because we’ve reached the second volume, and judging from the cover it seems like this rivalship is about to heat up

also this cover totally spoils Izuku’s about-to-be-revealed superhero costume, but that’s okay since I’ve seen it before already

I’m at a loss for words at how wonderful and perfect this title is. just want to give it a round of applause

and I accidentally saw the title for chapter 9 while I was scrolling through the volume index and. !!!!!!!!!

(it’s “Deku vs. Kacchan” in case you were wondering)

SOMEBODY better have learned how to clench his butt more gently and visualize that damn microwave egg real good, that’s all I’m saying, because shit’s apparently about to hit the fan

ahhh there is a whole page of detailed backstory on how their costumes were made. I’m gonna cry they put so much actual thought into it

LMAO Bakugou helped design his own ridiculous costume

this will absolutely ensure that everyone takes you seriously, Kacchan

real talk this is the most Gokuderaish shit he’s done so far. I knew he had some nerdiness in him somewhere

there is apparently a Quirk Registry where everyone’s quirk details are kept in some kind of national index. pretty sure this kind of thing was the impetus behind the conflict in the first X-Men film, as well as the first (comic-verse) Marvel Civil War. but I guess it’s not as controversial when 80% of the population has these powers. at that point you’re like “yeah okay let’s make a list”

in Horikoshi’s Wikipedia bio it said he was a huge Marvel fan and it fucking shows. in a good way

lol Izuku’s mom startled him and he hung up on All Might

what is he actually going to list as his quirk though, since the whole One for All thing is supposed to be a secret? what does AM have on his own quirk registry form?

(ETA: in chapter 11 it’s revealed that All Might has told at least 3 other people about his quirk, though. so there’s that. I wonder if he has a friend in the government, or if not, maybe the U.A. principal has some influence. or hell, he probably has a fair amount of influence himself, being the great symbol of peace.)

his mom is apologizing to Izu for her sad crying in his sad flashback. is this going to get emotional. Deku hasn’t cried yet in this chapter and the clock is ticking, so

sob Deku is wearing the costume his mom made him with love. I can’t

THE JUMPSUIT IS FINE BUT THE HELMET THING. I FUCKING CAN’T

also is this thing really going to hold up when he goes all out? last time he ripped the arm right off of his jacket. I hope he did tell them something about his quirk, otherwise this thing is not going to last

(ETA: lol he did not and lol it did not)

the good thing is that everyone else’s costumes are also so fucking ridiculous that not a one of them can say a damned word

except for this guy

I don’t know his name. right now he’s Hot Guy in the Corner. but this guy knows how to uniform

listen, I have heard people compliment my shoes as “really comfortable looking” enough times to know when someone is just trying to be polite and reaching hard. I appreciate the thought though

trying to figure out how those giant boots of hers could possibly be useful for her zero-g powers. especially since she apparently didn’t actually request them. maybe they’ve got magnets or some shit

All Might is embarrassed that Deku made derivative Victory Antennae for his own costume just like All Might’s

AW HE LOVES YOU

statistically the most heinous villains are more likely to appear indoors. there could be a Heinous Villain standing behind you right now. it may already be too late. hide yo kids hide yo wife

now All Might’s going to split them into two-person teams and sic ‘em on each other

”this teaching thing is fucking easy.” [pats self on back]

these kids are the best

oh damn he’s actually got a whole involved scenario for the thing. as expected of the man who so obsessively planned every last minute little detail of Izuku’s training

but actually this is just capture the flag

it’s capture the flag my dude

in theory their partners will be chosen by drawing lots! in reality it’s the all-powerful hand of the mighty mangaka at work

lmao Iida questions if this is really the best way and Izu launches into a lengthy explanation about how it makes sense because it’s similar to what might happen in real life, and Iida fucking apologizes for getting ahead of himself. YOU’VE BROUGHT SHAME UPON YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY IIDA. HOW DARE YOU QUESTION THE LOTS

somehow I saw this coming

the guy on Discount Zuko’s right has such a flat head I didn’t register him as a person for a sec and was wondering why Discount Zuko didn’t appear to have a partner

I’m 99% sure Discount Zuko’s name is Todoroki by the way, but WHEN. WILL. HE. get an actual introduction goddammit?!

heh

...am I really going to have to learn the rest of these characters’ names too?? there are 16 of them. this is like the goddamn Chuunin Exams all over again

goddammit

Ochako is so happy to be paired up with Izu, while Izu is Having a Crisis

yeah son you need to get over that

oh boy here come the ~RANDOM LOTS~

a.k.a. the ONLY TWO TEAMS WITH NAMED CHARACTERS ON THEM*

*I know Yuri on Ice is a named character as well but I CAN’T REMEMBER WHAT IT IS and CLEARLY IT DOESN’T MATTER YET ANYWAY

my GOD those are some fortunate ~RANDOM LOTS~

so what do the other 16 people do, just sit back and watch?

son of a

I suppose they’ll all take turns and the next four will go once these four are done, though. off-screen of course. fuck those guys

All Might is telling Bakugou to adopt a villain mindset and that it’s okay for him to go all out. All Might out here trying to get Deku killed

this gon be good

meanwhile Ochaku and Izu are trying to memorize the building’s layout. Ocha isn’t stressed because this time they don’t have to worry about being expelled

and it must be my birthday because here’s a whole page all about Izuku musing on his and Bakugou’s rivalship

sooooo this is either gonna be a draw or Bakugou probably will actually lose to him. the latter is going to fuck that kid right up if it happens

:D

(ETA: :DDDDD)

YES. EXACTLY. DAMN MY WEAKNESS FOR RIVALRIES

All Might thinks loudly at his son that he’s not going to show him any favoritism

All Might is a fucking liar but it’s cute so he gets a pass

Deku and Ocha are sneaking in through a window. I assume Ocha floated them up there or something. she’s so smart and talented

I wonder if she could just float Iida and Bakugou out of the building so that they wouldn’t have to actually fight them

Izu’s helmet makes him look like Sonic the Fucking Hedgehog and it’s really distracting me

BAKUGOU LEAPING IN OUT OF NOWHERE TO ATTACK THEM

THANK FUCK, HE BLASTED DEKU’S HELMET OFF

NOW he looks like the Izuku I’m always seeing on tumblr posts

JUST TAKE OFF THE OTHER HALF OF THE HELMET, DUDE

this Momotaro-looking guy is complaining that Bakugou’s sneak attack wasn’t “manly” but dude he’s supposed to be playing the villain in this scenario

heh. he’s off the fucking hinges

OH FUCKING DAMN

IS HE ABOUT TO IPPON SEOI NAGE THIS MOFO

”did he just read my moves?” wereeeee you thinking your movement was actually subtle...? let’s go back and take another look

this is such an obvious attack a three year old could probably read it

not discounting Deku, though. son of a bitch really DID ippon seoi nage the shit out of him

YES DEKU, YES

“Kachaan, you almost always lead with that right hook.” his lifetime of being bullied finally pays off! also, seriously, that was the most obvious right fucking hook anyone’s ever attempted. thanks in part to the always dynamic and interesting art style!

ummmm

is... this... actually a compliment somehow...?

no, seriously, he’s leading into a speech about how he’s not gonna sit back and take Kacchan’s shit anymore, but he also just analyzed his attack, and then said that this is something he specifically does with “heroes he thinks are awesome”

for now my verdict is that it is a compliment but it’s probably unintended and he might not be paying attention to what he just said

anyway, Deku’s getting seriously fired up now

KACCHAN YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF MOTHERFUCKER THIS IS THE FACE OF A KID WHO’S ABOUT TO CLENCH HIS FUCKING BUTT

lmao this tiny panel of Iida looking around wondering where everyone else is

darn him

FREEZE FRAME!!

ENHANCE

ARE THOSE

TEARS

DEKU

DEKU

THIS WAS LITERALLY THE LAST PANEL

YOU WERE IN THE CLEAR

OH MY SWEET GREEN SON

...one of these days. one of these days we’ll get there

BONUS:

my takeaway from this is that some of these characters don’t actually have normal names and are only going to go by their superhero names, which makes me wonder if we’ll ever find out All Might’s name. I want to knoooooow but don’t spoil me please sob

[nigiyakaken]

❝ ↪ @unmeiha requested a starter !!

" Hm? What's this? Oh - must'a been something picked up after the last fight took place during patrols. " his own curious gaze locks against the sight of blood leading into a trail down his muscled arm. Strange. He can't seem to recall when he actually felt the strike to warrant such. He's sure it has to be fine....right?

" I'll just throw some dirt and spit against it and it'll be fresh in no time! "

He doesn't dare think of the lack of sleep, doesn't dare entertain the thought of what such a sight is actually doing to his senses, feels his fists ball up so tight he might as well bruise his own flesh even more. He's been training. More training. He needs to combat the feeling. Something about mind over matter right?

" Gotta get ready for more rounds tonight. What'cha still lookin at me that way before? It's only a scratch. "

[mechagalaxy]

John T. Mainer: Heart of Diamond

Heart of Diamond Faction War 3302 Bouncing Blue Legion vs HF Highlanders War was different back then, a more desperate affair in many ways.  There were no specialties to hide behind, there was only blood and iron.  The strongest slaughtered anything in their path, and if you didn't have the weight of niode, all you could answer with was skill and grit.  Those who were there remember.  We came from so many clans.  Spirit of Bunny, Smurf Legion, Star League, Myth and Legend, and Slaughterhouse 5.  We didn't come from one family like the Highlanders or the AFF, we were just a group of free warriors who banded together based on the kind of respect you gain by going head to head on a hundred battlefields and watching the other guy match you stride for stride, shot for shot, and never yield an inch. On the second day, we had hoped to take it all with a charge out of legend.  Our best had formed the tip of the spear, and for a while it looked like victory would be ours.  We rammed hundreds of mecha through their lines, and our best carried all before them.  The HF Highlanders bent, but they didn't break.  The damned pipes called, the jamming hindering out own signals, and inspiring them to dig in, to hold, to slow us down while their own counter thrust formed.  Their lines bent, but didn't break.  Then the hammer fell.  Dreadnoughts and Torrents, the kings of the battlefield at that time fell upon us, with Skraigs and Nakshi's on the flanks, blades flashing. Our thrust became a salient, then the HF started to pinch it off, and it threatened to become a kill sack.  We were trapped and our best were out of fights.  Ammunition depleted, las crystals scorched to the point that firing risked explosion, not a rocket left in the missle bays and the empty clacking of the hoppers with nothing to cycle in the chain guns.  Ice reservoirs out of nanobots and coolant, plasma nozzles so fouled with soot that half of each burst now splashed upon your own mecha, we were a spent force ready to be reaped by the HF reserves, helpless as if we were rookie pilots on their first boss fight on Pirate Moon. Then Fred led the charge.  Several days worth of beard hiding his grin, and shades hiding the circles under his eyes, he led the charge to open a retreat.  His line didn't have the weight of metal, but Slaughterhouse were used to punching above their weight and Fred was used to facing the enemies best for his Clan.  A solid line of Torrent were pounding the trapped Bouncing Blue Legion forces, each Torrent unleashing a forking wave of missiles, cannon and laser, not content to hit a single foe.  Fred grinned, because while it looked flashy to spread the damage around, a true cannon cocker knew that getting your steel on target was the only job, and that requires focus. "Hold what you got, help is on the way."  Fred sent on the Legion frequency. Cutting loose with his Silencers, he sent a roaring burst of cannon fire into the exposed flank of the lead Torrent.  A good hit, he got x2 damage as he was able to overcharge his capacitors for a few seconds before firing.  More critical, he chose an angle of attack that put his rounds into the shot trap between breastplate and abdominal turret ring, so the armour naturally redirected his shots into the vulnerable ring that housed the plasma conduits, electrical connections and myomer bundles connecting the main engines and the leg power train.  The Torrent had too much power in too little space to handle even a single second of that power vented inside between its engine amplifiers and ammunition bins.  The Torrent exploded in a critical kill. Turning to face the new threat the Highlanders tried to storm Fred, rolling his lighter forces under at the charge.  The lack of respect they showed his lineup showed the difference between those who concentrated on mecha, verses those who concentrated on maximizing the performance of the mecha he had.  Not all of his machines were maximum tonnage, but each machine was lavishly equipped with the best equipment he could beg, borrow or steal.  Each build was a work of art, and part of a line that was designed to fight not as individuals but as a line.  Mecha whose job it was to freeze the foe, mecha whose job it was to hand out damage, and critical killers whose job was to kill. "Forward one step and volley!"  He shouted.  Stepping over the first crushed rank of Torrents and facing the mix of mecha in the next line. Then it happened.  No matter how skilled you are, the enemy is also trying to win, and they are also skilled.  A Nakshi hammered an Arbitrator through his cockpit.  The round struck with all the power of the dreaded Forerunner design, and his cockpit crystal shattered before it like so much glass.  Fragments of the armouring crystal punched through his armour and his chest like the blades of the Nakshi itself.  Blood sprayed the cockpit and the Legion heard the sound of shattering glass, and the low grunt of impact.  His cockpit began screaming medical alarms, pilot distress codes flashing the dreaded Omega sign of life threatening injury. Jim Faust broke into the Legion comms from where he was trying to extract the trapped legion forces and screamed "FRED, are you OK?  Get out of there!" There was a wet sounding cough, a low laugh, then Fred came on the comm himself.  "Forward one step and volley!"  he rasped. I remember staggering past him in the retreat, a retreat he made and held the opening for.  I saw them pull him from his machine.  A big chunk of crystal was stuck through his chest like a sword.  Jessica our medic and Jim his CO were pulling him from the cockpit.  Jessica was white as sheet, whispering "There is crystal puncturing his heart, how is he still alive?"   I will always remember Jim's response.  "Fred has a heart of diamond, it will take more than that to stop him." There have been a lot of wars since then.  We have fought beside each other in Faction War, against each other in Clan War and never has anyone been more of an honour and pleasure to fight either beside or against.  Not even diamonds last forever, and even a heart of diamond must stop eventually.  His guns have fallen silent at last, and his machines are still, but those of us who shared the field with him will never, can never let him die. What is remembered, lives.  Fred Diamond will be remembered. John T Mainer 28840

[survivorhephaestus]

EPISODE 05: WAIT YOU TOOK ME AWAY FROM MY DOG

After Space Council, the teams were given a new and exciting twist: a mysterious spaceship appeared on the horizon, only to crash in for a long-awaited Team Swap. Inside the star, the voted-off castaways got to have a hand in deciding who went on which team, and the resulting three teams were as follows:

Minkowski - Richie, Karter, Josh, Carson

Lovelace - Drew, Patrick, Owen, Lydia

Kepler - Katie, Renee, Jakey, Logan

The new teams were given a music video challenge to break the ice, and after varying degrees of effort, Minkowski and Kepler emerged victorious. Before the vote, each team was given a chance to elect an MVP from the challenge who would be given a special power. Lovelace chose Patrick, Kepler chose Katie, and Minkowski all voted for different people so they didn’t get an MVP :( Katie and Pat, however, each got a fifteen-minute satellite call to a person of their choice from another team. Pat used his to call Logan, and Katie called Lydia shortly after, allowing the four of them to enact a secret plan to influence the next vote.

When Lovelace arrived at Space Council, they found out they had been infected by a virus from another team’s laboratory, which meant an extra fifth vote would be cast at their Council. Because of this, Owen was voted off 3 - 2 and sent into the star.

KARTER

I FOUGHT A FUCKING MONSTER AND NOW I AM ON ANOTHER FUCKING SHIP

AND THE OTHER TEAM WAS SO SHADY AND NOW I AM WITH THEM. I MISS MY TEAM. I AM ANTI-MEANIES. THESE ARE CLEARLY MEANIES

I CANT BELIEVE THE OTHER TEAM GETS TO CHEAT

I don't want these new friends :( I miss Logan and Lydia. Fuck this. Lovelace #1 is a gift and I miss all of them.

I hate this new crew and I am so fucking mad the Kepler ship gets this NEW SHIP SHIT but I still love my pals from the original team on that ship so I am torn.

I FOUGHT A FUCKING MONSTER.  KICK ME OFF I HATE THIS GAME WITHOUT MY PALS. Can someone send me out the airlock? Zo?

Just kidding I miss my team my pals m y c r e w

Oh no we are talking about vines now maybe they are okay

WAIT YOU TOOK ME AWAY FROM MY DOG. ARI IS THE WORST

DID I MENTION I FOUGHT A FUCKING PLANT MONSTER?

LYDIA

JOSH

http://prntscr.com/mr5pkf

PATRICK

First: losing Stevie was no fun. I didn't want to vote him, and I told him as much at the end of the round where Jay left. But between a complete lack of traction from anyone else and a lack of time to put in the legwork myself, it didn't make sense for my game to keep him around. :( Sorry, Stevie. You deserved better. And for that matter, Karen, you too.

Onward and upward, anyway. Fweeeeeee, team swap! Love it. In an ideal world it would've come one round earlier or with another person from my OG tribe. Being the lone Minkowski on a tribe of Lovelaces is concerning. But I like this group. All people I'm familiar with to some degree, and two of whom have been pretty good allies in past games! Owen's the one I'm least familiar with, and even he and I have SOME history. Not extensive, but some. 

Realistically, if we go to council, I know I'm in trouble. So I'm going to be doing everything I can to avoid that. In the meantime, this seems like it'll be a fun team! I'm excited to have a good time with Lydia, Drew and Owen. Hopefully we can kick some butt and take some names.

It all starts with this music video. I love editing video, although I haven't done so in a while. I think for this, we'll need a few things to go right: we need a good, catchy song; we need a concept (all the best music videos in ORGs have them, not just raw lip syncing); and above all, we need good-quality video from everyone. Good video can survive bad editing, but the opposite is not true.

And, of course, we need to make a video so objectively good that even a panel of subjective judges can't shut it down. Basically, I want to capture the magic we had in Heroes vs Villains 2 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2S64ck2mPXs), though so much of that will be dependent on our teamwork.

Also, lowkey I wish Logan was on this team? One, I miss them terribly. Two, they've been in two of the three videos I've ever edited in a game. It feels wrong not to have them in here too. Oh well. I'm sure we'll meet up at merge. Whether we work together is up for debate, but I just miss their peppy upbeat vibe.

I hope Josh and Jakey stay alive, too. If you know my game, you know I like to keep my options as open as possible. And putting aside my own game, I'd like to see those two get far. I think both stand DECENT chances because of the tribe's splits. But we shall see!

KARTER

I just miss my friends. We worked so well together. Lovelace #1 forever.

I kinda hope they vote me out this round.

PATRICK

Well, this is frustrating. I tried pushing things along yesterday, strongly hinting at needing today to do anything. And nobody really helped much, causing today to mostly come and go. Lydia finally ended up taking the reins — bless her soul — and she picked the one song I voiced objection to. Beautiful. But, whatever, it's too late to be switching songs. 

It's also too late to lock in any concept like I'd hoped, so it'll be your garden-variety lipsync. I'm probably canceling my plans tomorrow to get this done, which has me VERY unhappy, so if I'm sacrificing my day I may as well try and have fun with it. I have a few ideas to inject humour, at least, if not interest. 

But... ugh. I'm just frustrated. If/when we lose, I don't know where I stand. I'd hope Lydia would force the tie and give me a chance. But I think I'd get two votes if we went today. I hope I don't go out because of this. I feel like I was doing my part to steer conversation and just kept getting met with radio silence. 

Whatever. Sleep, quick turnaround, then I'm on this video grind. If we lose it sure as hell won't be because I didn't do my best under the circumstances.

LOGAN

me when people criticize how in sync my video was when my teammates sent stuff in an hour before the deadline: just be glad we have a video!!! 

it was hard work making that happen. i can't believe i single-handedly won my team immunity, Kepler is now the Logan Team. i feel like i'll be the tragic boot right before the merge, but at least i'll have this win to my name.

LYDIA

PATRICK

First off — Logan and Kepler at large, ily. You're the best kind of best.

NOW THEN. A few things I want to cover off, so bear with me.

PAT, YOU WON THE MVP AWARD. WHY DID YOU NOT REACH OUT TO ONE OF YOUR ALLIES FROM MINKOWSKI? A few reasons. First, I saw this reward as one hell of an opportunity to expand my options even more going into a merge. It's a rare way to forge trust with someone who's never been to council with you. Second, I mentioned this in my last confessional... I just missed Logan. And third, I think both Josh and Jakey are secure enough in our respective alliances that, even if it does leak out to my OG team (which it would already have had to leak to at least Jakey and Renee,) they would know it was to build ourselves a foothold, not to throw them aside.

PAT, WHY DID YOU KEEP DREW OUT OF THE LOOP ON THE VOTE? An excellent question! Drew came to me this morning and said "I talked to owen about voting for lydia". He then went on to clarify that he'd messaged us both around the same time. But immediately, I went on full alert. Like... why are decisions being made without my input? And obviously, I'm not turning on Lydia... but Drew didn't know that. At the same time, after that message, it told me those two were a bit too close for my liking. So I knew I couldn't tell Drew I wanted to vote Owen. So I went along with it in private, but then did my own thing.

PAT, DO YOU THINK DREW WOULD HAVE FLIPPED ON A RE-VOTE, OR WERE YOU PREPARED TO GO TO ROCKS? I'd have gone to rocks in a heartbeat. But I also know beyond the shadow of a doubt that Drew would have flipped. That's why the vote went on Owen and not Drew.

[teamcalamity]

Opus Explorations - First Impressions of Planet 8

Welcome to Opus Explorations, a regular feature hoping to provide some inspiration to those of you stuck on the world map, not sure where to turn.

In each installment we will present deck ideas along with a brief summary, a suggested list and the verdict based on actual results when run at Team Calamity OP nights (usually a 4 round Swiss). If the summary sparks a tingle in your loins, then you can access in depth profiles of each deck in separate linked articles.  

With Opus VIII just about to launch, rather than deck lists this time we decided to just go with a few cards we are looking forward to trying (note we haven't seen the full list yet) . If you haven't already then read our previous post which might give you a bit more insight/context into some of the choices we make below...

Rich

Cloud

I might be completely wrong about this card, but I feel that Cloud has the potential to dethrone some of the more frequently played 5 drop fire forwards. Whilst the damage dealt in the early game feels a bit underwhelming, his damage will grow the longer the game goes on. I think the closest comparison to Cloud is Baugavern - except Cloud fits better into dual element decks, replaces the special with the ex burst effect and doesn't damage for a fixed value. And Baugavern by all accounts is a decent card for mono fire, right? The second ability is probably not going to be utilised unless it has the potential to win you the game, but it's mostly going to be risky to just use willy-nilly.

Ultimately, I think Cloud and the presence of efficient finisher damage like Iroha or Rain, could lead the the emergence of an up-tempo mono fire deck that's heavily centred on enter the field effects. Feel free to taunt me 4 weeks after release about how wrong I was, which is often the way when I open my mouth about newly spoiled fire legends...

Lasswell

Lasswell is the card I'm most excited to play this set. It is packed with power that can be problematic for your opponent on a short, medium and long term basis. The most important of Lasswell's effects is his enter the field, as I feel that in today's environment, any card without an enter the field ability is instantly less playable. It's not the most efficient way of generating an on-entry dull and freeze (I'm looking at you, Genesis...), but the efficiency comes from keeping him alive and using the on-swing effect every turn - which for 1 fire cp is nuts.

The special is a bonus more than anything - I imagine that most opponents will immediately respond to Lasswell more than any other forwards due to the pressure he brings, and keeping him alive long enough to use Azure Sky might be problematic.

The one drawback to Lasswell is that he realistically only fits into Fire/Ice decks, and even then I feel like that he requires the deck to be centred around him. Sure - he can be run as a 3 of, and devout'd back if necessary. But I think how the deck runs when Lasswell ISN'T on the field could be an issue. Still, if he performs as well as I think he can, he could be the revival piece to the competitive fire ice decks of yore.

Yuffie

Yuffie represents the ultimate value card, even if it does require a specific setup. Luckily, it will be quite easy to fulfil the 3 Category VII characters requirement via backups - had this card said forwards instead of characters I would feel very different about it.

Despite the necessity of being tied to other Category 7 cards, I think there is a lot you can do with a sneaky Yuffie ninja attack. The 1k AoE on-swing provides a cheap proc for a plethora of other decks (namely Barbarricia and Diabolos in wind, possibly Orlandeau or Opus 5 Ramuh if you feel like getting spicy with Wind Lightning featuring the Turks).

I don't think that Yuffie will be much of a game changer, and she is far from a high impact card. But I think the card represents good value if you meet the criteria and run Godo, and it nailed the flavour of what Yuffie should do in this card game - which does not include being Vincent's or Red XIII's side bitch.

Mitch

Earth – Ardyn. 1 million CP.My pick for earth card is Ardyn. Now I know what some of you are screaming at the screen “but Mitch, the world’s best player, surely you must see that this dies to Famfrit” (*Replace with your favourite way to bone this card) and let’s be honest, if this card couldn’t be removed in any way, this game would just go to deck out and be really boring, god forbid this counter play. I’m under no illusion this card is great verses all match ups and as a result isn’t going to be a 3 of. Just don’t play it vs water…But now I will get to why I like the card; it actually has nothing to do with playing the card. I like it because it forces your opponents to build their deck in a way that they have an out to it, be it Deathgaze, Vayne, Deathgaze, Famfrit or even Deathgaze. This legend will auto win some match ups if they have no easy way to remove. I understand that this card also has “counter play” in that you can break your own characters to stop this beasty from blocking. Okay. Break your stuff. Let’s take earth wind for example, what would they want to break? Cactuar? Nope A back up? Nope, that deck is so refined that it will really struggle to deal with it. Earth Wind can adapt,  but while this is true it that just feeds into my first point.

Lightning – Alphinaud

I know I should of picked the Kpop girls, but honestly they don’t excite me as cards, until they get the support to search or something to make this consistent. I may be wrong but the hype isn’t there for me at the moment.

I also see a lot of promise for mono lightning this set, you have that legend that deals 1k more than a fire legend who shall be shunned (BAD PALOM) and an action that makes this card a kill on sight.

My Card however is Alphinaud, searchable, haste with the right set up, but my interest is more in the deck it opens up. I believe that WOFF monsters, paired with this, lava golem and Urianger will actually become a thing. Urianger can bring back WOFF monsters with this card; it is a cheap aggro deck with a huge aggressive side. Originally I was thinking WOFF monsters would be 9k beasts, but with Alphinaud they won’t even be blocked!

Water – Shitty finger Zidane

I think fire might actually get to see some play this set, finally becoming a game of six colours. Fire got some great cards but it also got cards in other colours that compliment it. Everyone has thought of the Sage on Zidane first turn, and don’t get me wrong, it’s incredible. But I do think Zidane is viable in any water deck.

Zidane, to me, has given something to water which was sorely lacking or at least not strong enough to play and that is an aggressive early game. Everyone knows when you play water they need to set up, but this gives them a different playstyle. Then we come to the ability that it can’t be blocked if you have 6 or more in hand. Keeping 6 in hand before you swing should be viable which forces early removal for your opponent. This allows you to keep your hand up while setting up. Oh by the way, did anyone mention this was good with Fire?

Tom

It's easy to cream over new legends so i'll go for some that are a little less obvious, but I think will be really fun. 

Ice - Palom

2cp Ice forward with discard.....turbo is back!  Well no it's not, thank fuck, but for 2cp you get a multi choice card with all very viable options that you can flex depending on your situation and place a forward on top.  Ground breaking hero, no but I'd love to see ice evolve out from the standard Setzer, Locke VI discard package and I think there's options now to really play around with some different combos/deck setups. 

Fire - Marche

This was spoiled fairly early on and I think has gone under the radar.  Fire was crying out for some consistent value plays and this offers that with an EX to boot (it's searchable too).  I generally don't like cards that force you into mono situations but I like fire so i'll let this pass.  I'd never thought I say it but with Opus 8 buffing fire somewhat, will you be able to find space for this into a mono fire deck?! One to test out for sure.

Earth - Gladiolus  

FF15 slowly crawls it's way into FFTCG, this will probably be one more for fan service.  Limited to Earth CP yes, however, you are going to be running Noctis so that shouldn't be an issue meaning you get a 2cp 9k forward with a dreamy 6 pack.  I also love a special and this one is decent if not a little costly.  You will mainly be running for the cheap body (no pun intended).  Meta defining no, but if you are a fan this will be fun. Depending on the rest of the crew and if we get another Noctis could get interesting.

Peter

Sherlotta 8-053H

Ok so for a 2cp investment, at some point in the game you can cash in Sherlotta. Put her to the break zone to generate 1cp of any element.

You could do this immediately after playing her. For just 2cp! She's certainly my hero of this set.

Let's take a look at the possibilities of this mysterious woman.

Sherlotta will be a card I'll be looking to get 3 foils of, 100%.

Wind is my favourite element and the fact that this card now exists puts wind in a very fun position. You can add any card u want into the deck. You can play Phoenix L, Exodus, Dadaluma and even Opus 2 Yuna. Oh wait... noone plays that anyway :)

From a competitive aspect. Wind is a very popular element choice currently in the meta. Now every wind deck has access to the best bkup in the game. Shantotto. Scary thought huh?

So maybe it will even bring a psycological factor now I'm thinking about it.

As you know Shantotto is like Chaos/Cosmos and taps for any cp. In fact it gains the elements so there's synergy with H Bartz straight away.

I may be mistaken but up til now there isnt a way of playing a 6cp card without discarding from your hand. I feel this is important to mention because you're taxing your hand less which is great for high ceiling turns.

Honestly can't wait to build with this card. I'll be happier than a Catholic priest in an orphanage.

Team Calamity's OP runs every Friday from 7pm at Calamity Comics in Hatfield (North of London). You can also follow us on YouTube, Twitter and Facebook (teamcalamityfftcg), contact us on email (teamcalamityfftcg@gmail.com). Alternatively just write anything on the FFTCG Fans Facebook page, Team Calamity's James Stevenson will no doubt comment on it.

[redhood5092]

Stanley Cup Final Review

Well, well, well. It feels good to be the king. They said it was too hard to repeat anymore. The Penguins did it. They said, you can’t win a Stanley Cup without a true #1 defenseman. The Penguins did it. They said you can’t have two #1 goalies or else there’d be a controversy. The Penguins did it without controversy. They said the Metropolitan bracket was too tough. The Penguins conquered it. These Penguins are the team of the past decade. Soak it up Pittsburgh fans, your Penguins are back-to-back Stanley Cup Champions. How’d they do it? The Pittsburgh Penguins defeated the Nashville Predators in 6 games (like I predicted, waddup) to claim their 5th Stanley Cup Championship. Results-wise, the Stanley Cup started exactly how you’d hope. Joe Gilmartin, of the Phoenix (AZ) Gazette, said "No playoff series truly begins until the road team wins a game”. Thankfully, the Penguins held serve at home. Game 1: Game 1 was one of the weirdest games you will ever see. The Penguins exploded out to a 3-0 lead in the 1st period lead, only to have that lead whittled away by the Preds. The most disconcerting part of blowing that 3-0 lead is that the Penguins went 37 minutes without a shot. Just after the Predators tied the game, and feeling like the Penguins blew a golden opportunity, rookie sensation Jake Guentzel buried one top shelf vs. Rinne, to give the Penguins a 4-3 lead late in the third. Pens would tack on an empty netter to take the first game 5-3. Game 2: Game 2 started a bit slower for the Penguins. They traded goals in the 1st period and it remained 1-1 until the start of the 3rd. The Predators largely carried the play (again), but Matt Murry was up to the task of keeping them in it. Finally, Pekka Rinne’sPittsburgh demons (never won in Pittsburgh, 0-6, 5+ gaa, <.800 sv pct) resurfaced. The Penguins struck 3 times in the periods first 4 minutes to take a 4-1 lead they would never relinquish. The Penguins took a 2-0 series lead in the Stanley Cup and it was hard not to envision a 5th championship. Game 3: Game 3 started perfectly, with Guentzel scoring again vs. Rinne to put the Penguins up 1-0. Unfortunately, Nashville’s elite puck possession carried over in Nashville, and then some. Nashville completely overwhelmed the Penguins, especially their defense. The choppy ice made it difficult for the Penguins defense to settle and distribute the puck. This lead to many odd man breaks resulting in goals. Murray finally had a bad game statistically and Rinne bounced back (although he wasn’t tested a ton) and the Penguins lost 5-1. We had a series, Nashville had cut the series to 2-1.

Game 4: A lot of people may disagree with me, because of the Pens taking two at home, but Game 4 was the Penguins best game of the series up until that point. While the Predators struck first, Sidney Crosby tied it with one of the prettiest breakaways you will ever see. Game 4 saw the Penguins carry the play for the majority of the game, for the first time in the series. The Penguins had the better chances all game, however Rinne’s home-cooking made the difference. Rinne stole Game 4 for the Predators, tying the Stanley Cup at 2 games a piece. Preds won 4-1, ensuring there would be a Game 6 in Nashville. Murray, again, had a subpar game. Many people were calling for Fleury to retake the net, but little did they know that Murray wouldn’t let in a goal the rest of the season. Game 5: Game 5 marked when Cinderella’s carriage turned back into a pumpkin. The Nashville Predators were the 16 seed in the play-offs. The Penguins were the 2 seed, who beat the 4th, 1st, and 12 seed along the way. Game 5 was what you’d expect from a 2 vs 16 game. From the opening whistle, Crosby was a monster. He drew a penalty on his first shift, which Schultz cashed in, breaking the power play’s 0-for-13 slump.  The Penguins never let the Predators get anything going, scoring two more goals in the 1st to chase Rinne for the second time this series (That’s 4 goalie chasings in the play-offs!). Rinne’s replacement didn’t fare much better, yielding 3 more goals in a 6-0 destruction of the Predators. The Penguins had taken a 3-2 series lead, with a chance to win the Cup in Nashville (away, like they always do). Game 6: Game 6 was tight. Neither team gave much ground in the 1st. The 2nd period opened with a 0-0 tie, only to have Nashville take the lead. Fortunately for the Penguins, the ref lost sight of the puck and blew the whistle before the puck crossed the line. The ref made the right call with the information he had, he just didn’t have as much information as he needed to make the correct call. The refs made the Penguins pay (because it was obviously their fault the ref messed up) the rest of the game. For the first time in Penguins’ play-off history, they went the whole game without a power play. The Predators had 4, including a 5-on-3. Murray however, was up to the task. The Penguins and Predators took a scoreless tie late into the 3rd. The penalty killers, in particular ageless wonder Matt Cullen, and Matt Murray kept the Predators off the board. Then, with 95 seconds left, Patrick Hornqvist, the king of the gritty goal, did what he does best. Schultz fired a shot wide, off the boards behind Rinne. Horny, left alone in his office, immediately batted that rebound off the back of Rinne, and into the net. Just like that, all the energy left Bridgestone Arena. The Penguins had taken a 1-0 lead, and the keeper of the Cup began to bring it out. From there, Hagelin added a no-doubt empty-netter, and your Penguins locked up their 2017 Stanley Cup championship.  

 Turning Point: P.K. Subban is a polarizing player. His fans love him, opposing fans hate him. He’s ultra-talented and he plays with an edge. He also likes to run his mouth. I personally don’t hate that. These men play a sport, sports are supposed to be fun. So I fully support Subban’s brash personality, his antics, etc, as long as he continues his elite play. All that being said, he poked the bear. At the end of Game 3, he made sure to get in Crosby’s face. They exchanged pleasantries, and Subban went to the media to let them know Sid said he had bad breath (Sid didn’t say that). Subban turned that into a little gag with mouthwash. Cute. Sid then turned in a monster performance in Game 4, leading to that breakaway goal.  Game 5, Sid was by far the best player on the ice, collecting 3 assists in a total domination. Game 6, the Sid and the Kids line was the best line for either team. They carried possession and skated circles around Nashville. Moral of the story. If the bear is the best player in hockey and the 4th best player of all time, don’t poke the bear.

 Team of the Decade: Funny how the narrative has changed over the past two years. People used to wonder if Crosby and Malkin would ever win another Cup (after 09).They were seen as play-off chokers.  Now, let’s look at their decade of dominance and their next closest rival. Regular Season Wins: 467 (1st) Capitals have 458 Regular Season GpG: 3.04 (1st) Capitals have 3.02 Play-off Games Played: 152 (1st) Blackhawks played 128

Play-off Wins: 90 (1st) Blackhawks have 76

Play-off GpG: 3.05(1st) Blackhawks have 2.97

Conference Final Appearances: 5(t-1st) Blackhawks have 5

Stanley Cup Appearances: 4(1st) Blackhawks have 3 Stanley Cup Wins: 3(t-1st) Blackhawks have 3.

The NHL deserves a Pittsburgh-Chicago Stanley Cup. It really is amazing that the 3 most successful teams of the past decade: Penguins (3 cups) in the East, Blackhawks and Kings (5 total Cups) in the West, have never met in the Stanley Cup.

A few important things to note:

·         Marc-Andre Fleury has waived his No Movement Clause for the expansion draft.   That means Flower is going to be a Vegas Golden Knight. There is a possibility that the Knights move Flower to another team, for picks/prospects, but I don’t think so (and hope not).

·         Nashville’s vaunted top-4 defensemen were great. They entered the Stanley Cup a combined +27 +/-. Facing the Penguins they were a combined -10 +/-. Conversely, Crosby was -1 +/- through the first 3 rounds, but was +5 in the Stanley Cup. Who says defense wins championships?

·         The Pittsburgh Penguins were the first team in 25 years to lead the league in scoring, the play-offs in scoring, and won the Stanley Cup.

·         Sidney Crosby, with his second straight Conn Smythe trophy is now a top 5 player of all time, and he’s only 29. I used to think the Mario, Orr, and Gretzky could never be touched as the top 3. Now, I’m not so certain.

·         Do I think the Pens will threepeat? No. But I didn’t think they would repeat either. And if there’s any team that can do it, it’s these Penguins. There’s going to be plenty of roster turnover, unlike last offseason. But I believe that will work in the Penguins favor. They need fresh, hungry players who will chase the Cup like the Penguins did two years ago.

 I picked Penguins in 6, they won in 6. It’s a great day to blog for the Penguins. Thanks for reading (all 5 or so of you). I appreciate the encouragement. Let’s Go Pens!

[feyre-archerons-scrapbook]

A Taste of Darkness - a Manorian fic

A long, angsty Manorian fic. This takes place after Empire of Storms, so this is your spoiler warning.

I’ve absolutely loved writing this! I’m such Manorian trash, I couldn’t stop writing them. Thank you to the wonderful @rhysand-vs-tamlin / @pretendthisiswitty for being my beta, you’re a star.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Find me on AO3 

Dorian Havilliard was exhausted.

A week had passed since the events on the sand dunes of Ellywe; since Aelin, since his friend, had been whipped and broken all over again, and entombed inside an iron coffin. There had hardly been a moment to let those events sink in, before he had set off on the backs of the wyverns with the Thirteen, heading north towards the Wastes. Now, sheltered inside a rundown castle on the edge of the former witch kingdom, those thirteen witches stood shoulder to shoulder with him around a large circular table.

They’d been talking and strategizing for three solid days, morning and night, trying to decide how best to take back their lands, and help Terrasen, Aelin, Rowan…and Dorian himself. There was so much to do. But now he wanted, no, needed sleep.

He shifted his weight and stifled a yawn.

The past few months had been a blur. There had been no time to think about how his life had gone so spectacularly off course; the foolish guilt over his father’s death, Sorcha, Chaol’s injuries…

The Valg prince that had hijacked his body and run riot, torturing, killing, and revelling in it all. His fingertips drifted unconsciously towards the scar around his neck, a permanent reminder of the horrors.

But then she caught his eye. Manon Blackbeak, with her irises of gold and hair of brightest white, smirked at him from across the heavy slab of weathered oak. A tiny hint of a smirk, unnoticed by her clan, meant for his eyes only. Manon Blackbeak…his witchling. She held his focus, her eyes piercing his soul as he dropped his hand. His heart pounded. He was alive.

A spark of terrifying electricity had hit him the first time they had met. Back when he was a slave inside his own body. She – this witch – had possessed in her the kind of power that made the blackness inside him cower and tremble in her wake. And when the path was clear, all he could think about in that brief meeting was how much he’d never been with one of her kind. Manon Blackbeak. Created from ancient blood, possessing such strength, appearing to offer him nothing in the way of comfort, only a body to do with whatever he pleased…

Asterin Blackbeak said something beside her, and both Manon’s and Dorian’s focus were drawn away. The golden-haired witch pounded a fist on the table and spoke rousingly about something or other. He didn’t know. He didn’t much care either, right now. He wanted to get out of here. He needed to sleep and clear his head.

But his eyes drifted back to the leader, just as her red lips parted and she responded to her Second, to her Thirteen.

He wanted her. He watched as she drummed her fingertips on the table, and he saw a flash of those iron nails. The power she wielded thrilled him. That same power that she so willingly yielded to him. He wanted to run his hands all over her. His hands that dripped magic; ice, fire, anything he desired. But he desired nothing but the witch. He wanted to touch every inch of her bare skin, wanted to be pressed against her, be as close as could be, when she gasped his name.

He had to get out of here.

He sent an icy breeze across the table towards her, rippling her hair just enough to give the impression of a natural occurrence, and her focus was pulled right to him.

He arched an eyebrow and whispered through his raw magic, I’ve had enough for this evening.

She folded her arms and dropped her weight to one hip. A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. She could hear him.

I’m going to my room, and if you’re not there before the candles have burned out, he leaned forward, placing both hands on the table and sending plumes of magic towards her, I’ll be one very disappointed king.

She blinked slowly, and he could’ve sworn she sent flutters of gold back to him as he withdrew the magic.

With that, he pushed away from the table and began walking round the diameter of the circle, passing behind the backs of the gathered witches. He didn’t even notice when all conversation stopped, as he approached Manon and leaned in, his hand landing on the small of her back. As twelve pairs of eyes turned to him.

He ran a finger slowly up her arm, from elbow to shoulder, the ice tickling her skin. Then let go.

She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Nothing, just stared right ahead.

He looked at her face, her profile, studying her. After a second, her throat bobbed, and he felt her take in a breath; desperate, yet restrained, unnoticed by anyone else. A wicked smile curled one side of his lips, and then he was gone.

All eyes were on her now, on what they’d just witnessed. What they could smell in the room.

Sorrel tipped her head to one side, pondering whether she should say something, but a tight cough broke the silence instead, and Asterin gave her cousin a small nudge with her elbow. “Anyway. As I was saying…”

An hour or two later - after she deemed the meeting over - Manon found herself walking down a dimly lit hallway of the castle, running her iron nails along the dry, dusty stone wall. The noise rippled around her, reminding her of the sound her armour had made on the blacksmiths whetstone in Morath. That hellhole, where she had unwittingly helped Perrington – Erawan –  in his evil pursuits. Where the Yellowlegs clan had been violated and discarded. Where Elide Lochan had come dangerously close to being brutalised.

Where she had fought her own grandmother, and fled for her life.

A shiver ran down her spine.

She retracted her nails, and continued her journey in silence. The castle, which had once been a stronghold of a fearsome witch, was dark and cold, but still had enough flourishes of decoration and luxury about it to make it feel quite impressive. Gold torch holders dotted the walls; their elaborate branches now coated in spider webs and grime. Manon sighed, staring up at a faded painting of the once proud owner. This place had belonged to one of her ancestors, somewhere down the line. She looked a little similar; same hair, small flecks of gold embellishing her eyes. She felt a swell of pride, determination. She must return the witch kingdom to prosperity.

The door to the room Dorian had claimed when they arrived was closed, with only a faint strip of light slicing through the darkness at the bottom. She grasped the handle, its cold black iron sending a chill up her arm. She pressed her forehead lightly against the wood, and breathed. Waited.

She hadn’t intended on coming to this door. After the boy kings little display of power in front of her clan, she’d wanted to disappoint him, wanted to have him go to bed sulking that his lover wasn’t going to indulge him tonight. But here she was, unable to fight the pull of this man.

She entered the room.

It was big, yet warm, inviting, and filled with grand furniture and paintings of more witches who looked proud, almost regal in their elaborately decorated cloaks. Dust sheets were pooled on the floor below; Dorian must have torn them down when he entered. The candles, which were a mere couple of inches away from burning out, illuminated the space, the bed. The empty bed. She frowned.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up,” came a voice from behind her.

She smirked and turned slowly, just as Dorian pushed the door closed from his place behind it, his strong hands sending whispers of ice along the wood grain. The door clicked and he turned the key in the lock, his sapphire eyes holding hers.

“Hello, princeling,” she said slowly, licking her lips.

“Hello, witchling,” he replied with such a deep, guttural voice, her knees nearly gave way beneath her. “Shall we talk first, or…?”

“I guess that depends.”

“On what?”

“On how badly you want me.”

He snarled, and curled his lip. Goosebumps rose all over her body. He stood in semi-darkness at the door, his black hair shining as it caught the flickering candlelight, but he didn’t move. He didn’t need to. With just a look, his magic unclasped her red cloak, sending it billowing to the floor.

She glanced over her shoulder and snorted, “That it?”

“Oh, I’m just getting started, witch.”

Her body tingled at his words. “I do hope you’re not all talk, prince,” she taunted him, “I don’t like to be left unsatisfied.” She licked her lips again and ran her thumb back and forth across her fingertips, “Otherwise I’ll just have to take care of myself.” She went to move her hand to the waistband of her trousers, but before she could touch it, an invisible force grasped her wrist. Her eyes flicked back to her paramour.

Dorian stalked towards her, his magic hands slowly lowering her arm to her side and keeping the other in place, too, and stopped in front of her. “I decide when, and how you are satisfied.” He inhaled her scent, his breath shuddering at the enticing aroma. “So the question is really; how badly do you want me?” He lifted her chin, bringing those eyes of vibrant gold to him. “Hmm?”

It wasn’t often that Manon Blackbeak was speechless, but as his cold, biting magic began to entangle her body, she could only gasp a breath. This feeling was so new to her, this feeling of wanting to be touched by him, to give herself completely to him. His piercing eyes studied every curve of her face, as his magic gripped tighter.

“Dor-”

“Tell me,” he breathed.

“I…I.”

He bit his lower lip, taking his time to drag it away from his teeth. He could feel her heart pounding against him, feel her body warming. Her lips parted ever so slightly, and before she could say anything else, he covered them with his own. The kiss was needy, desperate, like neither of them had ever really felt a kiss before. She certainly hadn’t, not like this. Tiny snowflakes of his magic seemed to manifest against her skin as his tongue savoured hers. He pulled away, and looked at her once more. “How badly do you want me to do that again?”

She closed her eyes for a moment and nodded, “Very badly.”

He obliged, kissing her deeply. When they parted, his hand fell against her cheek, and he sighed as she relaxed into his touch, turning her face into his palm. His other hand began exploring her body, running along her arm and down her exposed neck. A bead of sweat ran down it, and he leaned in, nuzzling into it and placing kisses slowly…so damn achingly slowly, against her skin.

She tilted her head back just as a groan escaped her lips, and he dropped both hands onto her waist, gripping tightly. His kisses moved to the other side of her neck, and his touch slid up to her breasts.

The sound that resonated from her mouth was feral, wild…unexpected. He laughed against her skin and crawled his fingers up to the edge of her white shirt, pulling it down to truly expose her beautiful, otherworldly skin. He ran his tongue along the top of her cleavage and whispered, “Should I continue?”

“Yes,” she gasped, as he clutched both sides of the shirt in his fists and ripped it clean apart. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

He took her breasts in his hands and squeezed just enough. “Yes, please…” Another firm, but pleasurable squeeze. “Dorian.”

That was it. He moaned with his own pent up desire and rolled his neck, releasing the magical restraints just as he grasped her backside and lifted her off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist as their lips met in a clash of ice and iron, lust and yearning. Her hands ran all over his face and into his hair, as they explored each other’s mouths, and he walked them over to the bed.

He threw her down, and for a split second, a small part of him wondered if that was too much, too aggressive, but she purred with absolute want, her gold eyes sparkling at him as he stood above her, lit by candlelight. He grinned and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Allow me?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He thought for a moment, then nodded once.

She pushed herself up to reach him and extended an iron nail, swiping up his dirtied white shirt and cutting it open. His chest was so well defined, so beautifully tanned. How she had missed him these past few days travelling.

She didn’t have time to think too long about it, before he used his magic to unbuckle and remove her trousers and dropped to his knees. She fell back against the sheets as he ran his hands up the insides of her thighs, and pushed them far apart. He lowered himself down and winked at her, her beautiful smile all the signal he needed to continue. As he began to taste her, the world ceased to exist.

Bands of morning sunlight warmed the sheets that covered their bare skin, gently awakening them in the hazy surroundings of the bedroom.

Dorian was the first to open his eyes, and as he shifted a little to loosen his muscles, Manon’s sleepy hold across his chest tensed. He smiled and lightly pushed a strand of hair away from her face. Her skin was flawless, and almost unnaturally white, as if not a single ray of sunshine had ever caressed it.

He had never seen any human woman look as peaceful as the witch did right now. The witch with the iron teeth and claws. He blushed, remembering how those teeth had left faint scratches against his neck. He began to raise his hand to the marks, but she stirred, pulling his focus.

“Good morning,” she sighed, opening one eye.

“It certainly is,” he replied with a smile, and watched as she sat up. “Sleep well?”

“Mmhm.” She stretched a little and threw a side-eyed smirked at him, “And you were sleeping like the dead, prince.”

He dropped his head and laughed, “What can I say? I was worn out.”

She joined in the laughter until it faded away, leaving them staring at each other as the morning chorus of birdsong filled the quiet. Her eyes drifted down to his neck, before quickly returning to his face. His features were soft, his blue-black hair ruffled and spiked in places. “Dorian,” she breathed, and shuffled a bit closer. He met her halfway and leaned in to share a soft, tender kiss, so unlike their wild, impatient kisses last night. When they parted, she dropped a hand on his firm chest and slowly, delicately dragged her nails down the bare skin.

The iron claws barely appeared behind her nails, scarcely grazed his skin. He held back a groan of pleasure and took hold of her hand. “Show me.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“I want to see the power you hold in your fingertips.”

Those sapphire eyes were pleading, as he moved his grip to hold her lightly by the wrist. She conceded, extending her hand and fanning her fingers out as the iron claws slowly protruded from them. The sunlight caught the long, fine metal talons, the glint dazzling them both.

He studied them, in awe of their strength, and the fear they awakened in humans…in himself. He was pensive as he spoke, “Incredible, so incredible. And the teeth…will you show me those, too?”

“Dorian, I -”

“You did last night.”

“That was different.”

“Why? Hearing your whisper my name, scream it in those final moments, through those iron teeth…I can’t begin to describe how that felt-”

“I did that so you would remember who you are,” she interrupted, her voice clipped, emotionless. She sat up, her back going rigid. “So you would remember that you are Dorian Havilliard.”

“What?” he scowled, and pushed himself up against the headboard. “I don’t understand. I know who I am.”  

“When I said your name, I could feel it’s effect all over you.” Dorian’s confusion was written all over his face. She twisted round to face him fully, crossing her legs beneath the sheets. “When we’re close, when my iron is against your skin, the thing inside you backs away, afraid.”

“But…but it’s not there anymore, Manon, I -”

She pointed at his neck, her claw still visible. “That collar says otherwise.”

Without thinking, and thoroughly expecting to find nothing but bruised skin, he lifted his hand to his neck. His fingers shuddered at the cold stone that greeted him, almost throbbing with its dark power.

Dorian’s entire world began to twist out of shape.

“No,” he gasped, tapping his fingers along the stone, disbelieving, “Manon, I broke this…I broke it.”

“What are you talking about?” she frowned, “It’s been there all the time I’ve known you.”

“No, no, it hasn’t!” he winced, wrapping his fingers around the stone and trying to wrench it off. “Chaol and Celaen…Aelin…they…” He sucked in air through his teeth, his fingers struggling to maintain a grip on the smooth surface. “It broke and I killed my father.”

“Your father?” Manon echoed, “What are -” Words failed her and all the witch could do was watch through tired eyes, shaking her head as Dorian tried and tried and tried to free himself from the inky black shackle around his neck. All she could do was watch as he shifted to his knees on the bed, his naked body tense with worry, with frustration, and confusion. He clawed and clawed at the collar, leaving red scratches against his neck far worse than what she had ever done.

And all the while, he whimpered.

It was possibly the worst sound Manon Blackbeak had ever heard in her one hundred and sixteen years of life. He whined in desperation to be free, as if he had experienced the relief of his freedom from the blackness inside and was fighting to get it back. Tears ran down his cheeks, tears of sadness and confusion…of pain as he tried to force down a lump that was now lodged in his throat, now held back by the tight Wyrdstone collar.

“I don’t u…understand,” he stuttered, still refusing to give in. His knuckles were now white, his fingers bleeding.

She didn’t know why he was suddenly acting like this; nothing had changed. That collar had been around his neck since before they’d met, and her presence provided him with relief, a break from the torment. “Let me…” she said, trying to cover his hands, hopeful of maybe prising the collar off with her iron claws.

“No! Get away from it!” he snapped, knocking her hand away and leaping from the bed.

“Dorian,” she said as calmly as she could manage in her shock at his reaction. She pressed a hand against her chest and felt the quickening beat of her heart. That was an unusual feeling, to say the least. “I don’t think it’s coming off.”

He wasn’t listening, he was too busy searching for his trousers. And that’s when he realised; gone were the old dusty walls of the weathered castle, along with the grand furniture and paintings of his lover’s ancestors. Gone were the sandy-coloured dust sheets that littered the floor. All he could see around him were piles and piles of books. Books everywhere; on the desk, under clothes, huge stacks of them on the floor. His hands went up into his hair as he blinked and spotted The Walking Dead on top of a heap. “No! No! No!” he cried. He was in his castle chambers in Rifthold. He peered out of the nearest window. The glass castle shone bright in the morning sun. “I demolished it! I razed it to the damn ground!”

Manon frowned, then grabbed the sheet and scrambled off the bed, tying the material around her as she began to walk towards him, but he held up a hand, halting her in her tracks.

“Don’t,” he said, his eyes wide, “Stay back.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” she scoffed and threw her hand behind her towards the untidy bed, “We had sex last night, Dorian, it was acceptable for us to be close then!” She moved a step closer, and he moved a step back.

“Manon, I mean it,” he growled, “I don’t know how much longer this thing inside me will stay down, or how the hell I ended up back here, but until I get this damn collar off I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

At that moment, a sharp pain hit him right in the stomach, dropping him to his knees.

“Mother,” the witch gasped, as she reached forward to aid him. “Dorian!”

A strange shrieking noise escaped the prince’s lips, and he grabbed at his body, as if trying to hold back the monster within. It pounded and pounded against the inside of him, demanding to be let out. Manon looked on in horror as blackness swelled under her lover’s tanned skin like a creature swimming below ice, and leeched across his chest and around his heart. His blood vessels were suddenly stained black, his skin draining of all that beautiful colour.

“Dorian…” she said, her voice breaking. She wasn’t used to this feeling of helplessness.

He lifted his eyes to her. The sapphire was disappearing, the darkness taking over every inch of him. “Leave…” he gasped through the pain, “Get away from me…from it.”

“No. If anything, I am the one who can keep that at bay…” She swallowed her emotions and took one more defiant step forward, “Or have you forgotten, princeling?”

For a moment, the pain and the screaming stopped, and the vivid blue of Dorian’s eyes returned, piercing her soul. “I’m sorry I’m not strong e…enough.”

“No…” Manon whispered, sharp, salty tears stinging her eyes, “Do not say that.”

“I’m sorry, my dar…my darling witchli-” His words were replaced by horrific screams as the blackness finally won the battle. Excruciating pain shot through his body, arching his back and burning out the colour in his eyes once and for all. He screamed louder and louder, his fingers convulsing before the evil lurched him forward onto his hands and knees, gasping desperately for air. He pounded his fists on the wooden floor, making the ground shudder.

Then silence. Stillness.

Manon listened for a breath, watched for movement. The next thirty seconds or so were unbearable. Then he twitched, and began to move.

“I won’t leave you, Dorian Havilliard,” she said, defiantly, as he lifted his head to her. “Dorian, crown prince of Adarlan, stubborn bastard…” She looked into his eyes, and had to hold herself back from gaping. It was like staring at a night sky where all the stars had been cruelly stolen; empty…void of life.

A wicked laugh bubbled up from deep inside him…inside it. It laughed at the sadness written across her face, at her hands that now shook in the presence of the demon prince at her feet. “Get out, before I make you regret it, witch,” the darkness sneered.

“No.”

Slowly it rose to its feet, unconcerned with its nakedness, and stalked towards her, looking her up and down. Its muscular frame towered over her. “You dare to defy me, as you stand there wearing nothing but my sheets?”

“They’re not yours,” she hissed.

That laugh rumbled again, sending tremors through her entire body. She glanced down. She’d never allowed herself to be this vulnerable in front of a man. Dorian had been the exception, but this wasn’t Dorian before her, not now.

“Go. Take your rusty claws and get out of my castle.”

“I will not leave him,” she replied, clutching the sheet tighter in her hands.

“Your prince is dead, my dear. But very well, if you insist on staying,” the deep, sinister voice said. “Perhaps I could make you my companion, instead?” it asked, and stroked the back of its finger sensually down her cheek.

For a brief moment she found herself swept away by Dorian’s touch; warm against her skin, but prickling with ice beneath. Then she stopped. She smacked the cold hand away and glared at the Valg prince with her eyes of gold. She could’ve sworn it moved back an inch. “I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than see them as black as yours.”

“Oh, Manon, Manon, Manon,” it tutted, “That would be such a waste.” It pouted in mock sadness before turning and walking away from her.

With its back to her, she took the opportunity to scan the room for her clothes, spotting them on the floor at the foot of the bed. Her eyes remained locked on the demon prince as she inched towards them, and slowly reached down to pick them up.

The demon was now thumbing through one or two of Dorian’s copious amount of books, its sneers of contempt loud and obnoxious to Manon’s ears. Who the hell did this thing think it was? Death, that’s what. Her heart ached; she wanted her princeling back. How had the Valg managed to seize control of Dorian’s entire being, when she had been so close? The blackness inside him had curled up into a tiny ball, getting as far away from her as it could manage when she’d approached Dorian in Oakwald Forest. But now…

She threw on her shirt and trousers as quickly as she could, praying to the three-faced goddess that the Valg wouldn’t turn around and see her half-dressed. She needed to feel strong in its presence, keep the upper hand, and being naked encouraged its black, lifeless gaze to drift south. She wasn’t going to be anybody’s plaything.

It turned around just as she fastened the clasp of her red cloak, and gave her another full-body scan. “No more fun, then?”

“You wish,” she folded her arms, “But give Dorian back to me and that’s a different story.”

It laughed under its breath, and scooped up its host’s trousers, stepping into them slowly, suggestively. “I don’t know why you care so much about him, truth be told.” Its voice seemed deeper suddenly, echoing around the room, even though it wasn’t shouting.

Was it because she was now a good twenty feet away?

“He was weak,” the demon sneered, picking up another book and glancing at the cover. “He was soft, and kind, and a disappointment to his father.”

“And you, meanwhile, are a bad little demon prince, right?”

“I am everything he is not.”

“You got that right,” the witch smirked, and planted her feet firmly on the floor.

“And I’m everything he once was, too. I have his memories,” it smiled…and the voice changed, the echo stopping. It sounded like Dorian was back in the room. “Fat lot of good they do me though, really. Who honestly cares about the crown prince? Hmm? Where are all his friends when he needs them? Where’s Celaena…” It was as if he was mocking himself, “Or Chaol? Or Sorscha?”

Manon’s lip twitched. She’d heard that name before.

Dorian…no, the Valg, grinned at her, and began walking towards her. Its long, slender fingertips – fingertips that had caressed her skin only a few hours before – brushed along the tops of the book piles, running lines through the dust. Then it knocked one off. And another. And another. Its pace quickened, and then it was right in front of her, breathing in her expelled air. That sensual voice of her lover was barely a whisper, “All I care about is…you.”

“Oh shut up,” she groaned, and twisted to turn away.

It grabbed her, its fingers digging into her arms as it turned her back to face it. “Do you know why you’re here, Manon Blackbeak?”

She licked her lips and shirked him off, “Because Dorian asked me to come.”

It shook its head, the demon voice returning with an ice-cold edge, “No… I asked you to come.” It pointed to the window, “Just like I have done each and every time you’ve flown your runt of a wyvern to this tower and tapped on that glass. You saw Dorian open the window for you, let you in…kiss you, but no, it was by my instruction.”

“You’re lying,” she breathed, her focus darting all over that face she had studied in minute detail. The face that now looked like death reanimated.

“You wish,” the demon winked at her, those black eyes sucking the warmth from the room.

Mother, how she wished it were Dorian winking at her, instead. Her heart fluttered.

“I’ve been waiting, observing…learning all about you. All about that blood of yours that made me tremble like a frightened child, in the forest that fateful night. Each and every time you and your precious prince were together, naked and vulnerable, I stole a piece of your power, your strength. I took what was invisible and shaped it into my own might. And now, witch…” It leaned in close, so close, its mouth stopping beside her ear. “Now you have no effect on me, whatsoever.”

She felt her skin crawl. A ripple of night and despair came over her. How? How could this possibly have happened? Her desire for Dorian; her belief that she could keep him free of the darkness by being with him, loving him…it had all played right into the hands of the evil that taunted her now.

The demon prince ran its fingertips along her neck and gently moved her long moon-white hair out the way. Those black eyes watched her frown, watched it deepen as the revelation sank in. Then slowly, it leaned in further until its lips were pressed against the skin below her ear, and kissed her. Its other hand gripped her neck at the other side, holding her still as it claimed the weak prince’s love as its own. “We could rule this world, if you let me in,” it breathed against her skin, its voice impossibly deep and unnatural, “Together, we would be unstoppable.”

It kissed her again, this time on her jaw, then her cheek, then the edge of her mouth, each time slower, and more consuming than the last.

The demon expected her to resist, but she was still trying to comprehend what had happened; the hope she’d had when Dorian was above her, loving her, and she couldn’t help but steal glances at that collar. Hope. She had felt so confidence that her presence, her love would keep Dorian safely within his own body; keep him holding on, like a firm grip preventing him from falling over a cliff edge.  

“Manon,” said the voice of her lover.

She lifted her golden eyes to his. Sapphire shone brightly. “D…Dorian?”

He smiled and immediately pressed his lips against hers, their eyes falling shut. His tongue brushed across the crease of her lips, and before she could think about it, she was allowing him in, opening her mouth to him. His arms slipped down her back, pulling her in closer as their kiss heated up, as he began to tug at her clothes.

Her breathing came in short gasps when they parted, his kiss falling onto her neck. She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair, and dropped her head back as he pressed firmly against her. He growled softly and moved to nibble her ear, and she opened her eyes…

Darkness. A rush of black swept into her golden irises, filling her world with sorrow. She blinked. It was gone.

He growled again; a low, hungry noise, his hands pulling at the waistband of her trousers.

She gasped and pushed his shoulders with all her might. He stumbled back a step, panting…grinning. Those empty eyes had returned. “You bastard.” She flung her hand out, extending her iron claws in an instant, and swiped for its jugular.

The Valg prince grabbed her wrist mere inches from certain death, and squeezed hard. “I guess neither of us are going to get what we want, today.” She struggled against its grip and it laughed, “And the more time I spend with you here…the more I’m getting tired of you, witch.”

She yanked her arm again, desperate to free herself, but that grip was solid. “Let go of me, and I’ll get out of your way, then,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, I think we’re past that, now.” It tugged her closer so their noses almost touched, and hissed, “But I know someone who’d like to meet you.”

Her stomach dropped. “Dorian,” she said, as the demon spun her around and wrestled hold of both her arms, “Dorian, if you’re still in there somewhere, I’m sorry. I tried.” It shoved her and she lurched forwards, wincing at the might of its grip. “I tried.”

“You can call his name as many times as you want, but he won’t remember it, or you. He is gone, and I am growing stronger by the minute.” It pushed her again and they left the room.

The journey through the glass castle was long, winding, and very confusing. The castle was like a maze to an outsider, but the demon prince seemed to know where he was going.

Flickers of light dipped in and out of the shadows within the prince’s body. The body that was now fully controlled by the darkness. He could hear a woman calling a name; was it his name? He didn’t know. She sounded distressed, maybe even in pain. He wanted to reach through the black and take hold of her hand, console her, but the demon kept him pressed against the very edge of existence, it’s invisible grip tight around his neck. His neck. Visions of scratching at black stone appeared somewhere in his memory. The feeling of bleeding fingers, the sound of whimpering…his whimpering.

He wrapped his strength around the demon’s hold, trying to prise it off his throat. He could still hear the woman saying that name, over and over and over again. He…no, the darkness, slapped her hard on the side of her face and screamed for her to be quiet. His entire being throbbed with the shockwave. The woman fell silent, and the sound of shuffling feet on an echoing stone floor resonated. Then that sound turned hollow…as if walking on glass.

The woman – the witch, as his captor kept calling her – was strong, defiant. The demon had to push with all it’s might to keep her moving, keep her hands in its grasp. The flash of iron as she’d tried to kill it had been a welcome sight. If he was to remain a prisoner in his own body, he would rather die than have others perish by his hand. He’d choke the life out of himself if he had to, just for it to be over.

The Valg prince approached the red glass double doors of the throne room, elbowing Manon to keep going forward, and nodded to the black-eyed guards standing eerily still on either side. Without hesitation, they opened the doors, and stood back to let them through. They stared at the prince, barefoot and bare-chested, and Manon noticed them wince with pain when she got close. It was written all over their faces.

The throne room was vast, and maybe even breath-taking if she were being honest. A deep red carpet extended the full length of the space, between highly decorated glass columns that diffused the bright sunlight that burst in through the glass walls; the city beyond creating a living, breathing mural. It was a view from which to scoff at those unfortunate enough to be born poor, or those who liked to pretend they shared the same social standing as their king. Idiots.  

More soulless guards stood at regular intervals between the columns and along the edges of the room. The King of Adarlan sat squinting at the approaching pair from his throne at the far end, his large hands curled over the edges of the arms. He wore polished armour of an intricate, scaled design, with a wyvern standing proud on the breastplate.

“Oh, father!” the Valg sang as they strode down the carpet towards the dais, and the king shifted forward in his seat, “Surprise!”

It shoved Manon with every inch of its strength, sending her hurtling forward until she fell to her hands and knees. The crack of her bones on impact with the hard floor echoed around the cavernous room. She kept her head down for a moment to hide the pain behind her white hair, and her focus fell on the king’s feet. The demon fired some of her lover’s magic at her, the invisible hands snatching hold of her wrists and yanking her arms back behind her, forcing her to sit upright. For a second she could’ve sworn she felt Dorian’s thumb brush across hers.

The king didn’t say a word, but rose from his throne with regal, powerful motion and stepped down off the dais. He stopped in front of her, glanced at the face of his possessed son, then back at her. “Is this the witch my boy has been screwing?”

The Valg prince came to a stop beside her and smirked, “Yes.”

“Manon Blackbeak,” the king said under his breath. She could feel his eyes running all over her. “How often?”

Her skin crawled. Being spoken about like she was a breeding dog made her blood boil.

The interloper shrugged, “Enough.”

“Really…” the king replied, his voice light…impressed. He looked at the bare-chested shadow of his son and nodded, “Good boy, taking as much as he could get before the darkness took over.”

“He certainly played his part well.”

“Indeed. So she doesn’t pose a problem to you anymore?”

“No” the Valg said casually, his eyes slipping across to her and hoping for a reaction. “Her power over me is diminished.”

Silence fell for a moment while the king considered this development. Finally, he spoke again, and stared down at the top of her head, “Are you mute, Blackbeak heir?”

Manon remained silent, pondering whether she should indulge him in conversation. “What do you want me to say, your highness?” she hissed, finally raising her head to look him straight in the eye.

“Well, how about thanking me for allowing you to sneak your oversized lizard to my son’s window night, after night, after night? Hmm?” His eyebrows shot up, above his eyes that were unnaturally black, but not wholly so. Perhaps that was worse than Dorian’s situation.

Now it was her turn to shrug.

“I could’ve had you shot down.”

“And I could gut you like a fish,” she stated, her face impassive, her body steady.

The king laughed under his breath and said to the demon wearing her princeling’s body, “I can see why he liked her -”

“His name is Dorian,” she interrupted. Her heart was pounding, perhaps in warning.

“What did you say?”

“Your son’s name is Dorian!” she yelled. The guards shifted uncomfortably all around them, their swords clinking and betraying their movement. “Dorian Havilliard, crown prince of Adarlan and heir to this godsforsaken place!” She tipped her head to one side. “Or have you forgotten that already?”

The kings lip curled, and then, without warning, he slapped her hard across the face, jolting her head sideways. The force was greater than any Ironteeth punishment she’d ever received, or dished out, and left her entire face sizzling with pain.

“Insolent witch!” he roared as he leaned down and grabbed her hair, jerking her head back to him.

She held back a gasp of pain - not wanting to give him the satisfaction - and breathed in and out through her nose instead, as he pulled her hair again, lifting her face closer.

She glared at him with her golden eyes, then spat out a drop of blue blood on the pristine carpet by his feet, much to his outrage. He didn’t seem to be badly affected by her witch blood, though she felt a throng of his dark power pushing against her.

He tugged on the hair in his grasp once more. “You are nothing more than a serf to me and my kingdom, and yet you dare to speak to me like that, Blackbeak? What would the Matron think?”

She murmured an obscenity and he let go, giving her a swift kick to her ribs and watching as her body went limp. The Valg prince immediately tightened the magical restraints, forcing her upwards until she was as straight as she could be whilst remaining on her knees. She winced with the sharp pains that flooded her body, and licked a drop of blood that had burst from her lip.

“Answer him!” the demon commanded.

“I don’t care what she thinks! And I don’t care about you, your highness, or your cause!” Manon yelled, her attention jumping back and forth between demon father and son, “All I care about is Dorian! The man you encased in that walking tomb!”

“Silence!” The king slapped her harder, on the other side of her face, leaving a long cut on her cheek. He sneered at the sight of the blue blood running down her porcelain skin, and began twisting the black Wyrdstone ring around his finger.

Manon steadied herself with the aid of the invisible hands…hands that suddenly seemed kinder, more gentle around her wrists. She scowled briefly, then returned her face to neutral.

A pulsing sound. A throbbing in his ears…far away, but fast approaching. Stone reacting to stone. It stirred him from slumber, but it wasn’t what kept him there, awake, alive. The witch called that name again…and he knew it. He knew her, too.

The demon that enveloped him, that seeped into every part of him, kept him held down, it’s hand was still around his neck. The crush against him was getting stronger by the second, and he knew he didn’t have much time. But that witch. The monster turned to look at her, laughed at the pain grazed across her face, and stared down those eyes. Gold eyes. Lovers eyes. He didn’t know who he was, or what he had been, but he knew he had adored her, worshipped her…maybe still did, and from the way she spoke to the king, the way she took each strike to her face, it was clear that the feeling was mutual.

He threw himself at the edges of the darkness, launched himself at it with all his might. The end was near for him, and yet he wasn’t ready. There was something that needed to be done, first.

The Valg prince stepped an inch closer to Manon and almost stumbled, reacting like it’d been hit with a ball to the face. It covered its face with its hands and sucked in a breath. The king drew its focus and glowered, but the witch didn’t move, didn’t even look at it.

“What’s wrong?” the king asked.

“Nothing, father,” the demon replied with its unnerving voice, shaking off the strange feeling. He felt her steely gaze and gestured to her with his chin, “What are we going to do with her?”

The king crouched down and clasped her chin, turning her head side to side, observing the bruises that were already beginning to shine on both cheeks, “Well,” he grinned, releasing her and standing up. “I’ve half a mind to send her back to Morath and her merry band of flying spinsters, and let the Blackbeak Matron deal with her -”

Manon’s eyes flitted up to the Valg prince. “Yes, you do that. And I could take him off your hands, too,” she smirked, as another trickle of blood ran down from her lip and dropped off her chin. She was getting desperate for this to end now, her words laced with sarcasm and anger.

“Why do you give a damn about him, Blackbeak?” the king scoffed, arms outstretched, “Why not just leave, run away when you had the chance?“

“I’ll tell you exactly what I told your demon pet…I will not leave without Dorian. He is ten times the man you’ll ever be…or ever were, your highness.” A lick of ice ran down her spine in response. The touch warmed her.

The king scowled, “I thought your kind didn’t concern yourselves with friendship, let alone love? You got what you wanted from my son - a warm body on a cold night – everything else is surely futile to you heartless creatures.”

Right on cue, Manon felt her heart thump violently in her chest. She growled, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts, and dropped her head, “You turn your son into the walking dead, and have the balls to tell me I’m heartless?!”

“Watch your tongue, witch!” the demon prince shouted, and pulled the invisible restraints tighter, tighter, tighter, until her arms began to lose all feeling. “Or I will cut it out.” He turned his body to her and lifted his hand, then began to pinch his thumb and fingers together.

Manon felt the ice snake around her neck immediately, twisting round and round her and squeezing, constricting her breathing. Her eyes bulged as she choked, but they remained fixed on the Valg. His eyes, meanwhile, were full of joy at the witch’s predicament. He squeezed harder.

Her eyes began to roll back in her head, and her already pale skin turned deathly white.

“All right, that’s enough,” the king commanded.

The prince released the binding from her throat and she gasped for breath, coughing and spluttering and tasting a burning sensation deep in her throat. She looked at the demon again. “Y…you bastard.”

“We send her back,” the king boomed, ignoring her, “With the order to execute. The Blackbeak Matron will be very disappointed to lose her clan heir, but more than happy to carry out the sentence.”

“On wh…what charges do you condemn me, your highness?” she sneered between coughs.

The king looked at her, “Failing to follow orders. Trespassing on the sacred ground of your king’s home. And abandoning your clan, to name a few.”

She scoffed, but her stomach dropped. She didn’t want to go back to Morath and face the Matron. She didn’t want to leave this place, knowing that Dorian would forever be trapped inside his own body, held down by a monster, and used for evil. No. She knew what she needed to do, even if it got her killed.

The king cupped his chin in one hand and tapped his finger on his cheek, “Oh, and who can forget sleeping with the crown prince?”

“You’d sentence me to death for that?” she rumbled.

“Others have died for a lot less,” the king smirked, “But mainly, I just don’t like you, witch.”

She curled her lip up and snarled like a wolf.

The demon shook his head, its hands trembling with pent up magic and anger and worry, and blurted, “I’m bored of her, father. Who cares about the crone, this ends now!”

That was the final push. “Do it, then!” she cried though the pain in her throat, turning to the possessed face of her lover, and shoving her shoulders forward, “Finish this, or are you still all talk?”

It pointed a pale finger at her and growled a deep, unnerving sound that made her shiver. “You will die tonight, witch, make no mistake.”

“You take the body of Dorian Havilliard and waste it, demon!” She shook once with incredible anger, released her razor-sharp iron teeth and screamed, “Finish this!!”

It lowered its head to her, reached out to grab her by the collar of her cloak, and screeched. Pain struck it right in the temple. Its head snapped to her and it pulled her close. “Take me with you,” Dorian whispered in her ear, his eyes bright and blue, before he was gone again. The demon jumped backwards and looked at her, incredulous.

Her mouth turned up in a wry smile, and that was it.  With the Valg’s attention taken by Dorian’s sudden reappearance, the magic constricting her wrists and distorting her arms slackened off, and she leaped to her feet, claws extending as she broke free of the binds and lashed out at the king’s armoured chest. Iron against iron, sparks flew. She kicked him, mimicking his actions from earlier. The king cried out and stumbled backwards, and the guards rushed over, swords drawn, ready for the fight.

One witch. Twenty guards. No chance.

The first one to reach her ran at full speed, both arms up, ready to strike her down with the sword in its grip. Manon simply lunged forward, and swiped at its throat, stopping it in its tracks. The spray of black blood arced over them both as the guard toppled backwards, grasping at the wound. The stench turned her stomach.

Immediately, she spun around and launched herself at another, this time plunging her claws through its light armour and into its shoulders. It screamed in agony, it’s voice echoing around the room, until she ripped its throat out with her iron teeth. She retracted her claws and let it drop to the floor with a thud, then spat out the lump of flesh and sour-tasting blood.

From all angles the demons came at her, swinging their swords and fighting against their black hearts that cowered in her presence, that begged them to keep away, but they were no competition. She clawed and chewed and spat out each and every one, black and blue blood running down the sides of her mouth, black dripping down her iron nails, giving her a truly terrifying appearance to those still standing.

She moved with such grace, such fluidity, that even the king, who was still sprawled on the stairs, was silently impressed. “Kill her!” he yelled to his men, but hope was fading.

She glanced to her right. The Valg prince wearing her lover’s body was wrestling with the man inside. She knew Dorian was disappearing, that he would soon be gone, but this was his last stand, his final chance to do something. She wasn’t going to let him down.

He thrashed and scratched and pounded the demon with all that he had left, dodging each swirl of evil power. When a tiny crack in the darkness appeared, he concentrated all of his energy on it. It was like standing at the bottom of a dry well, able to hear the voices of the people he loved echoing above him, out of sight, but near; not just the witch, but the blonde-haired woman who had surprised and delighted him when she lived in the castle, and the man who had been his protector, and his best friend since boyhood. Their voices awoke in him the power and strength to keep pushing, keep pounding at the evil that was consuming him.

He shoved at the sliver of light, shouldered it until what was left of his consciousness was aching, bone-tired. Finally, though, he broke through the barrier, and the witch’s voice was loud and defiant, tearing down the possessed guards that he could see clearly through the demon’s eyes…no, his eyes. And his hands, oh heavens, they tingled with such ice cold magic, he felt lightheaded.

Another guard threw himself at Manon, and she slid to the side, allowing him to stumble before she thrust her claws into his side, spun around to leap onto his back and clamped down on his neck with her iron teeth. The claws were withdrawn, then thrust in again, peppering the demon with holes that oozed black stinking blood. His cries were drowned out by the blood that rose up in his throat, and he fell face first onto the red carpet, joining the others in a mass of seeping, revolting black blood.

The king sat with his eyes wide, aghast at the sight of the pile of bodies, and watched as Manon coolly wiped the black and blue blood from her mouth, and smirked at him, “That’s going to leave a stain.”

Anger turned his face fiery red, and the king screamed and launched himself forward, grabbing a sword from his belt and charging at her. “You will pay, bitch!”

Without much effort, she turned and scooped up a sword from one of the dead guards, the hilt dripping with sticky blood, and swung round, meeting the kings charging sword with her own. The clash of metal on metal reverberated, and she couldn’t deny that the king was incredibly strong. They fought hard, evenly matched, it seemed; his strength balanced out by her speed and agility. Left and right, up and down, their swords clashed. Teeth gritted, eyes wide, the king’s black Wyrdstone ring throbbed with vicious, unrelenting anger.

He swiped for her and she leapt over the sword, spinning round to jab her weapon into his exposed side. She didn’t expect to plunge through flesh and bone, but the blood-curdling scream that erupted from the Valg prince’s lips drew the kings focus, and allowed her to skewer him.

The king fell to his knees, gasping for air. She must’ve pierced a lung. His face was one of pure shock, and mild acknowledgement of her skill. Manon pushed the sword in deeper, forcing him to the floor, and let go.

The Valg screamed again, and she whirled round to see it convulsing, icy magic coiling round it.

“Dorian!” she yelled, and ran to him.

It stumbled backwards, arms thrashing, eyes black one moment, vivid sapphire blue the next. Back and forth they went, as an internal battle was fought between the crown prince of Adarlan and the demon prince encased in the collar. It…he…Dorian, scratched at the inky black stone, fingers bleeding once more, bleeding red mixed with black. The image was extraordinary.

“Dorian,” Manon said once more, taking a slow step towards the prince. “Is it you?”

“Manon,” he gasped, throwing himself around like a ragdoll, “It’s winning! The d…darkness is winning!”

She moved closer, her hands outstretched. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. She already knew the answer.

“Kill it. End it now.”

She rolled her lips, and slammed her eyes shut just as a lone teardrop fell down her cheek. “I…I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

Dorian wrestled with the demon, and the swirls of magic began to turn black, like ink dropped into a whirlpool. “Pl…please!” he cried out, “I can’t live like th…this!”

“Don’t!” the king screamed behind her. She turned around to see him pulling himself along the polished floor, streaks of blood trailing him. “Don’t you dare touch him!”

Manon turned back, just in time to shift her head to the side, the demon prince swiping for her. She slipped out of its reach and slid across the floor onto her knees, grabbing up another discarded sword before pushing herself back up off the floor.

The Valg stalked towards her, it’s eyes turning black to blue to black. Dorian was still fighting.

With her entire body trembling with adrenaline and dread, she dove at him…it, screaming until her voice broke, and knocked it onto its back. Its head hit the hard floor and an unnerving harpy-like screech escaped its lips, momentarily deafening her as she landed on top of it, straddling it.

It thrashed and kicked out, its strength depleted, and she hit it in the face with her elbow. The head snapped to one side, and she watched as slowly it turned back to face her.

The eyes. Those sapphire blue irises.

“Dorian?” she breathed. Her hands were shaking, nervous, but she retracted her nails and reached out, brushing her bloodied fingertips across his brow. “Is that you?”

He lifted his hand and gently wrapped it around her wrist, “My darling witchling,” he whispered.

She spluttered a cry of relief and touched his bare chest. It was freezing cold and deathly pale. She extended her nails just enough to scrape gently down from the Wyrdstone collar towards his heart. The blackness in his veins had subsided somewhat, but every beat of his heart pushed the darkness back out again. “Let me get you out of here.”

“No,” he said, squeezing a little tighter on her wrist.

“But Dorian, I can -”

“Manon…I’m not getting out of here.”

“Don’t say that,” she cried. Actually cried. Tears slipped down her long white eyelashes and tumbled down her cheeks, dampening her cloak. She whispered, “Please don’t say that.”

“The darkness has w…won.” He winced and the blackness flashed in his eyes. He concentrated every last drop of his remaining strength to push it back. “And I need this to be over, my darling.”

She rolled her lips as he squeezed again, his thumb brushing up and down the inside of her wrist. “You were never supposed to mean this much to me, you b…bastard,” she stuttered, her eyes catching the twinkling in his, “You and I were supposed to mean nothing to each other.”

“Strange how it works out sometimes, isn’t it?” he smiled.

Oh mother, that smile. She felt her heart melt as throngs of icy magic whirled around her, and tiny snowflakes fell on her skin. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he breathed, and moved his hand to rest it against her heart. “This beats for me, Manon Blackbeak. I know it.”

“Stop being so poetic.”

He laughed softly, and delicately ran his fingertips down her chest, entwining them in her half-buttoned shirt. She went to cover his hand, but he recoiled, his fingers cramping up as the black seeped into him. “End it, and get away from here.”

She shook her head, tears still falling. “No, I can’t leave you. I won’t.”

“Manon,” he said, his voice stern, commanding. “End it. Please.”

She wiped her at her tears and tugged her eyes away from him. She reached out to her side and crawled her fingers along the floor to pick up a silver sword. Her hands shook violently as she took the hilt in both hands and stared at it.

Dorian opened his mouth to speak, but the demon released another screech from his lips, raising his head off the floor and slamming it back down with skull-cracking force. Dorian’s magic crackled around them, forcing the blackness back down once again. “I haven’t got anything left to fight it off.”

“Leave him alone!” the king shouted from behind them. “Leave him alone, Blackbeak! Keep out of this!”

Manon’s heart thumped in her chest, and a lump lodged itself in her throat as she spoke over the king’s cries. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

“Oh, my darling witchling,” he breathed, running his thumb across her cheek and wiping away a teardrop, “I love you.”

She dropped the sword beside him, leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his ice cold lips, her mouth lingering as her hands cradled his face. “For as long as there is blue blood coursing through my veins, I will love you, Dorian Havilliard, and I will honour you.”

She sat up and grasped the hilt in both hands, raising it high above her head, and whispered, “Goodbye, princeling.”

He nodded, and took a deep breath, “Goodbye witching. Come find me when you tire of this life.”

She bobbed her head, her vision now clouded by emotion. The black began to seep up his neck, under the collar and towards his face. He sucked in air through his teeth and she felt his body begin to shake as the Valg made one final attempt to break free.

The king let out a whimpering cry in desperation, but she didn’t hear it.

She lifted the sword higher, and in one sweeping motion, brought it down on his chest, piercing his heart, and screamed.

The scream died down and the sword clattered to the ground. Dorian sat bolt upright in bed. His heart was pounding, his chest heaving, and sweat ran down every sculpted muscle of his body in a torrent.

A kiss of cool air brushed his face and he looked around the room. Weathered stone walls, grand furniture, paintings of witches that looked eerily like her - his witchling. His hands went straight to his neck, prepared to touch the cold, smooth stone collar. Nothing. Just skin. He released a wilting breath of relief and covered his mouth with one hand.

A belt hung loosely over the back of a chair, and the sword that had fallen from it still rattled on the floor below, surrounded by dust sheets. Wind-cleaver.

“Good morning,” said a sleepy voice from over his shoulder.

He turned to find Manon Blackbeak lying beside him, still wearing her travelling clothes and red cloak.

“I didn’t think you were going to show up,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

She stretched, elongating her lithe body, and pressed her hand to his heart, feeling the pounding rhythm, the damp flesh. “You were fast asleep when I got here, the candles burned out, and you looked so peaceful…unlike now.” She frowned and pushed herself up until she was sitting in front of him. “Are you all right?”

He rolled his lips, fighting back the urge to weep, and covered her hand to hold it in place.

“Dorian?”

He felt the warmth of her touch seep into him, thawing him, awakening him from the darkness. He relaxed his shoulders and leaned forward, kissing her lips with delicate precision.

Her hands covered his cheeks, cradling him. “Did you have a nightmare, princeling?” she whispered against his mouth before kissing him. He nodded, and she felt a shiver run the length of his body, and hers. “You were back there, weren’t you? Back in Rifthold, back in the…in the collar.” Her eyes dropped to his neck and lingered there.

Dorian frowned. That was no simple look of empathy on her face, that was fear.  “Ma…Manon? Did you have it too?”

She rolled her lips and nodded once. “I killed you.” Her hand drifted up over her mouth and shook. Her whole body shook. She’d never felt such powerful emotions before, such burning pain at the thought of killing someone; she’d done it enough times. But he wasn’t just anyone. “I watched you fade away, be replaced by that…that thing, and then I killed you.”

“It wasn’t real,” he said, his sapphire eyes bright and clear, his hands covering hers. “I’m here, and I’m free.”

She spluttered a cry, and stroked her thumbs over his cheeks. His eyes watched her intently, gold reflected in sapphire. “Free,” she whispered, and glanced back down at the pale scar around his neck. “How do you think this happened?”

He dropped his hand and gently pressed it against her thumping heart. “I told you in the nightmare that this beats for me, Manon. I don’t think that part was false.” He covered his heart, “And mine does the same for you.”

Without a word, she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him and feeling his hands slip around her in response. “You are mine, Dorian Havilliard, king of Adarlan, and I will remind you of that until there isn’t a drop of blue blood in my veins.”

He held her closer, and clenched his eyes shut. A single tear dripped onto her cloak, and he breathed, “And you are mine, Manon Blackbeak; last Crochan queen, and my darling witchling.”