#. DEATH OMEN ( Giant Challenge )

[punisheye]

It's nine in the morning and Wolfwood's still at the police station. The café is without its owner and he couldn't even contact anyone to let them know where the fuck he was. Nine in the morning and he's had to deal with an onslaught of the same questions over and over, because they don't believe he didn't pull up to his old place of employment just to steal alcohol and attack an employee.

Seriously, what the fuck do they take him for?

—

It's nine in the morning, and Livio the Doublefang gets a message from an unknown number.

[ text ] Hey its Nick sorry got a new number [ text ] Meet me here I got some things to tell you [ text ] (coordinates sent)

It's a lovely day in Archimedes. The sky is bright blue with nary a cloud to be seen; the sun shines warmly, nothing like the blistering heat of the twins back on that desert planet. A boombird passes overhead, playing an upbeat tune as it goes that echoes off of the amphitheater. The Theatre of Calliope apparently holds performances every day, but the next won't be for another few hours. So he sits there, alone, cast in the shadow of the towering wall of smooth stone, where the landmark had been carved into the face of the mountain.

A sweet breeze passes over him when he goes to light his cigarette, but the flame of his lighter doesn't flicker, doesn't snuff out. He clicks it shut and pockets it, sucking in a lungful of smoke.

Nearby, he hears the sound of footsteps. Heavy ones, attributed to a very large man. The Shadow pulls the cigarette from his lips, expelling smoke. Against the theater wall his Punisher is propped. His handgun is holstered beneath his jacket.

"Hey, Liv," he calls, lazily waving the cigarette through the air as he waves in greeting. "Glad you could make it."

@deathpacito

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monster Hunt: The Ruiner Prince

On his first name day, the faeries approached the king and queen to ask what gift they would have for their son. They could have wished that the prince would be wise, or that he lead a long and happy life, or that he bring prosperity to his people. Instead they wished him be strong, stronger than any who would challenge him.

The heir to a kingdom faces many challenges, and only a fool, or a monster, could think that strength could solve them all.

- Braidbrook’s Fables

In the husk of a once grand palace, a wretched giant squats among squalor and bones awaiting the champion that will slay him. Surrounding villages have been abandoned for decades for fear of the giant’s rampages, and all in the realm dread the day that boredom or some mad fool’s promise of tribute bring the giant to their homes. It will take more than blades and bravado for the party to overcome this foe, as they will not only have to face off against an invincible opponent, but an awful and irrevocable curse.

Adventure Hooks:

For generations the counts and countesses of Galinae have borne a blade handed down since the founding of the kingdom, a mark of their steadfast and indelible honour. This tradition has become a problem for the countess Orana Galinae, since her brother lost the sword and got himself killed trying to slay the Ruiner Prince thirty years ago. Only recently ascended to her ancestral seat, Orana is already hearing rumours circulate that the blade’s absence is a dire omen for her reign. The countess is sure to bestow great rewards and honours for any who return the heirloom to her, though the party’s attempt at a stealthy extraction might be hindered when they realize that though the castle is littered with scattered weapons, many of the choicest ones have been impaled into the meat of the giant’s back, where he is sure to notice their theft.

Fairy gifts are not easily returned, even when the fairy in question could wish nothing more  Over a century of watching the boy she was supposed to be godmother to go feral has filled the fey known as Mossmaven with regret, and seen her doting on the mad giant in those few moments where his brimming rage gives way to confusion and loneliness. She may take on a disguise to request the party’s help in undoing the magic she has done, or attempt to intercede should she discover them skulking about the ruiner’s palace. Should the party agree to help her, they’ll likely end up on a journey through the feywild in search of a partiularly introspective mirror.

Further Adventures:

Actively fighting the Ruiner prince is courting disaster, especially if the party blunders into the fight without doing the proper research on the giant’s origins. “Stronger than any who would challenge him” definitely includes anything the party can dish out, as they’ll find as the giant grows more dangerous the more he’s wounded, eventually culminating in repeatedly coming back from death itself thanks to his Mythic creature status, at which point the exhausted party should likely consider using the surrounding ruins to run and hide.

One of Countess Orana’s cousins is plotting to make a move on her title, using the decades of doubt that’s preceded her ascension to countess and a masterfully counterfeited blade to insist that he has a stronger claim.  This cousin will prove a possible headache for our heroes ( even subtly offering to pay them off and not risk their lives). Should the party wish to do the gallant thing, testing the real and rusted blade against the glittering forgery might be enough, especially since the ancesteral blade of Galinae is said to be as unbreakable as the family’s honour, and will surely shatter the imposter upon impact.

The Mirror the Mossmaven seeks is one that shows you lives that could have been, and is currently in possession of a fey that hordes luck and second chances among his many other ill gotten treasures, meaning the party will have to be very clever should they wish to obtain it without cursing themselves in the process.  Presented to the giant, the ruiner prince may come to understand the live he could have lived had he not always needed to be strong, and in so doing realize that he gift he was given was instead a burden, invalidating its bestowal in the first place.

Depending on the order of events, Orana’s cousin, fresh off the players foiling his scheme, may roll up to the Ruiner’s palace with a cartload of treasure asking only that the giant take revenge on the ones that have already stolen from him.  This may put a time limit on their whimsical mirror seeking quest, or give them a second chance to reconsider the fairy’s offer when the giant begins wandering toward their current settlement.

[rwac96]

My writing prompt for you today,

Hulk vs Thragg’s Viltrumite Empire!

The “Worldbreaker” vs the strongest alien race from the world of Invincible.

Viltrumites are essentially a weak combination of Kryptonians and Saiyans, they possess great power and get stronger every time they survive a near-death experience, but Hulk would smash them all!

Hulk can die, but he will always revive through the green door. Hulk and Bruce are an unstoppable force from Hell that can’t be caged so easily, unless they want to be.

If Thragg and his army were to try and fight Hulk, they might beat him by a thread, but Hulk would revive and finish them off before they could recover! They’d show Thragg who really is “the Strongest One There Is!”

Say Hulk ends up on the Viltrumite home planet and rampages, only to be seemingly killed by Thragg, who begins to berate his soldiers for failing to stop a mindless beast.

Thragg will then claim that it was easy for him to do so, since he’s “The strongest one there is” only for the not-so-mindless beast to get up, his wounds having healed and ask with a feral smirk, “You sure about that?” They then proceed to go all out, with Thragg’s empire being reduced to nothing but ashes and rocks, and he gazes upon the Green Goliath in shock, before his head is smashed open like a bloody piñata, ending his cruel reign upon the universe.

The dreaded roar of the Incredible Hulk echoed throughout the skies of the Viltrumite Homeworld. What is considered an omen and a sign to flee on Earth, to the race of conquerors, was a challenge. They charged toward the rampaging Green Goliath, who tore through them. He leaped into the air, tossing soldiers around like rag dolls; splattering the advanced city in their blood. The Hulk crash lands once more, pummelling through a horde of Viltrumites.

As the Hulk raises his bare foot over an injured Viltrumite, he was struck by a red & white, speeding blur. The jade giant bounced a few times, then is struck with a devastating left hook to his jaw. Hulk roared in anger, punching General Thragg. The murderous despot responds by driving his right fist into the Gamma Giant's chest, causing dark green blood to spew from his maw. The Hulk lay limp, seemingly dead. He drops to the ground, turning his glare to his soldiers.

"This was what gave you trouble?!" He points to the defeated beast, enraged at his soldiers. "I took him down easily, you weak pathetic wretches!" Thragg spat, berating those who fought for him, those who survived but had gruesome injuries from the battle. "It is to be expected for my victory to be swift. I am the strongest of this universe!"

"You? The strongest," the deep, guttural voice of the seemingly mindless beast spoke. The beast Thragg thought he had slain, The Hulk, rose up to his feet, his wounds closing up. "You sure about that?" The Green Goliath said with a smirk, his eyes glowing brightly.

General Thragg found himself struck with a heavy left hook to his jaw, being hurled away. The shockwave of the punch reduced the city around them to rubble. The soldiers around the pair were crushed and reduced to bloody, red mist. Hulk jumped after his opponent, and the Viltrumite stops himself from hurling wildly. He thrusts his left fist at the Monster, who launches his own at the conqueror. Their fists met, creating another destructive shockwave. The earth around them quaked, and the planet violently shook. Buildings came tumbling down, and Viltrumites who didn't flee were crushed underneath the ruination of the civilization.

They traded blow after blow, making Viltrum shake and tremble due to the aftermath of their fists meeting. Though, Hulk began to gain the upper hand, as Thragg became bloodied and beaten. The green-skinned beast grabbed the General, slamming him down onto the earth. He smashed his fists onto his torso, causing blood to spew from his maw over and over again. Thragg's vision was blurry, but he saw his empire crumbling down all around him. His body was battered and broken by what he thought was a mindless, dull creature. The General turned around, seeing the Hulk's fists raised once more. The last thing he saw was a blur of green, as his head was cracked open like a bloody piñata. Hulk roared in triumph, as his opponent lay dead in the ruins of his empire. His brutal reign upon the universe had come to an end.

[draconic-ichor]

The first few months of being underground may have been rough for Magnus. Constantly bumping his head on low ceilings. A few close calls of death may have shooken him up. But he has his big(short) brother there for him. Cuddling him for comfort when Magnus needs it. Maddox is starting to miss how the twins used to cuddle him when they were little, but he won't admit to it

Magnus is not build for silent travel…

Long Overdue

Elden Ring dabble

Maddox and Magnus

Warnings: strong language, blood/gore, use of weapons, cannon typical violence, angst, medical gore, insect death,

Summary: The brothers have their first slip up and things get messy…

Feedback appreciated, 18+

Maddox sighed, body hurting. This day was long, he could feel it despite not seeing the sun for over a week. Bringing his younger brother into the underground brought a plethora of challenges. Magnus was large and bulky, not too mention unaccustomed to areas like this.

Everything about Magnus was big: his frame, his passion, his curiosity, and his method of fighting…to name a few. It all made a quite dangerous cocktail down in the caves. Maddox had learned long ago that moving as silently as possible was the safest. The omen would go slow and steady through the caves, moving lithely along the passages. It was important to avoid unnecessary conflicts, the sounds of fighting just brought more enemies to your location.

Magnus found that fact out deeply…

One of the giant ants, that call the ancient river home, stumbled over them. The creature’s weren’t the brightest and could be easily outmaneuvered as long as there was only one.

Before Maddox could bark a warning Magnus had his godawful cleaver drawn.

The first ant went down easily, head sliced open. Magnus turned, looking pleased as he flicked insect blood off the blade.

Maddox paled. “M-Magnus we have to go.” He whispered, surging forward to grab his brother’s hand.

Hearing the other’s distress, Magnus asked, “Why?”

Maddox started to lead him away, the other following. “When an ant dies it’s released pheromones…alerting every ant in the area.” He informed, hushed.

“So?” Magnus shrugged, “We can handle them.”

“No, we can’t.” Maddox insisted, “That one was a worker…and it was only one.”

He paused, a sound reaching his sensitive ears; he closed his eyes to concentrate, throwing out a signal for the other to stop.

Hundreds of footfalls.

Maddox insistently handed his younger brother an item. Magnus took it, looking down at a talisman of protection. It was made by their mother: fashioned from a golden piece of horn, lost from Maddox in childhood. The item gave off a faint glow.

Maddox kept it with him always, the item being both symbolic and practical. Their mother’s magic was nothing to sneeze at.

“M-Maddox?” Magnus grew worried now, the implications of the given protection setting in.

“Hold onto that.” He instructed, casting a ward over them before pulling out his golden twin daggers. He fell into a defensive stance, “We have to fight…”

Just as the image of soldier ants poured across his vision, Maddox blinked the memory away.

They were safe now, both alive and back at their meager camp, although worse for wear. Maddox knew they were overdue for a slip up. He couldn’t hold any ill towards his brother, remembering his own time learning the dangers of the caves. Golden eyes flicked over to the other, heart heavy and feeling as if he failed the younger in some way.

Magnus was curled up on his bedroll, struggling to rest. His body was covered in swellings and bruises, patches of fur singed away from the ants acidic spray. Maddox had fixed him up, not brooking a moment for himself until Magnus was safe.

In truth, Maddox took the brunt of the attack. As he patched up his armor a sharp twinge of pain made him wince. His hand drifted down over his banged thigh, pain gathering under the wandering fingers. An ant managed to sting him, right into the main muscle. It hurt, to say the least, the puncture alone nasty. The neurotoxins was the icing on the cake; both numbing and fraying his muscles, causing his nerves to send random shooting paints up his entire side.

He grimaced, holding his leg a bit tighter as another wave ripped under the skin.

“Maddox?” The other’s voice came, restrained.

“Hm?” He blinked open his eyes, seeing his brother awake on the bedroll.

Magnus didn’t speak, the emotions heavy over his face however. Maddox sighed, deflating a bit. The older omen sat his sewing kit to the side, smoothing out his own bedroll to follow.

Getting comfortable, he offered open his arm to his brother, “Come here.”

Magnus gave him a long look, seeming thinking everything over. It had been a long, long while since the brothers had slept side by side. Not since the nightmares that plagued childhood sent either from their respected beds. Their relationship had definitely became more strained as the years stretched on, Magnus not even remember when they hugged last. So this offer was odd.

Just as Maddox was about to withdraw they younger rose to a crawl, crossing the space between them. He collapsed onto the other’s bedroll, shifting closer. Maddox put an arm around him, murmuring , “It’s alright.”

There was a stretch of awkward silence, both seemingly fearful of misstepping unsaid boundaries.

All at once something broke, whatever walls the brothers had built crumbled. Magnus nuzzled his face into the other’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut. Maddox pulled him closer, curling up, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Their tails curled around one another, intertwining their limbs to cuddle closer. The simple fact of being held seeping into their bones and bringing comfort after the straining day.

“Maddox?” Magnus murmured into the other chest, muffled in his clothes.

He made a sound of acknowledgment, gently running his fingers through the other’s hair like a soothing mother.

“I’m sorry.” Magnus bubbled, fingers knotting into the other’s shirt.

“It’s alright.” Maddox whispered, “You didn’t know…and we are okay.”

The warmth that radiated from their closeness acted like a salve to their aching bodies, allowing their muscles to relax. Maddox’s thoughts was pulled back to childhood, when the twins would crawl up and snuggle him from either side. He’d never realized how much he missed those simple moments, all seeming a lifetime ago now. His hand moved from the other’s hair to his horns, rubbing his thumb over their ridged surface. Magnus began to purr, deep within his chest.

Sleep mercifully overtook them, far beneath the earth.

[laresearchette]

Thursday, March 30, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: RAPCAVIAR PRESENTS (Disney + Star)

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT PROM PACT (Premiering on April 01 on Disney Channel Canada at 7:00pm) THE CROODS: FAMILY TREE (TBD - YTV)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

CBC GEM BLACK BOYS SKATE TOO WITNESS (Season 1)

DISNEY + STAR RAP CAVIAR PRESENTS (Season 1 - All Episodes Available)

NETFLIX CANADA BIG MÄCK: GANGSTERS AND GOLD FROM ME TO YOU: KIMI NI TODOKE PULP FICTION RIVERDALE (Season 7) UNSTABLE

MLB BASEBALL (SN1) 1:00pm: Giants vs. Yankees (SN) 4:00pm: Jays vs. Cardinals (TSN3) 7:00pm: White Sox vs. Astros (SN) 10:00pm: Angels vs. A’s

NHL HOCKEY (SN360) 7:00pm: Blue Jackets vs. Bruins (TSN2) 7:00pm: Panthers vs. Habs (TSN5) 7:00pm: Flyers vs. Sens (SNWest) 9:00pm: Kings vs. Oilers (SN360) 10:00pm: Ducks vs. Kraken

BIG BROTHER CANADA (Global) 7:00pm

CANADIAN FILM FEST (Super Channel Fuse) 7:00pm: HOW TO GET MY PARENTS TO DIVORCE: Justine is tired of the bickering and the climate at home since her mother's miscarriage. She rallies her friends to create their own court, but things don't go as planned. She will have to learn to communicate her pain so that harmony can return.

9:00pm: GOLDEN DELICIOUS: Everyone wants something from Jake: his father is pushing him to try out for the basketball team and his girlfriend wants to take their relationship to the next level. When Aleks moves in across the street Jake struggles with his own desires.

NBA BASKETBALL   (SN360) 7:30pm: Cavaliers vs. Nets (TSN2) 7:30pm: Celtics vs. Bucks (TSN2) 10:00pm: Pelicans vs. Nuggets (SN360) 10:30pm: Thunder vs. Clippers

CANADA'S ULTIMATE CHALLENGE (CBC) 8:00pm: In the semi-finals, solo Players do the Smokestack Climb in Sudbury; the teams go 750m underground in Mine Rescue; and pairs complete in a Sea-Doo Slalom tubing course; only two teams make the cut.

EVOLVING VEGAN (CTV Life) 8:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Mena Massoud, actor and cookbook author, travels across North America and eats his way through some of the coolest cities to show us how beautiful meals, talented chefs and restaurateurs are making plant-based food delicious and attainable. He explores the exploding vegan food scene in Los Angeles, Austin, Mexico City, Vancouver, Portland and Toronto, showing us just how mouth-watering plant-based food can be.

FALLEN ANGELS MURDER CLUB: HEROES AND FELONS (CTV Life) 9:00pm: Members of the Fallen Angels Murder Club search for answers surrounding the mysterious death of one of their own. Hollis soon finds herself at the center of the investigation when a journalist who's reporting on the murder also winds up dead.

THE GREAT POTTERY THROW DOWN (Makeful) 9:00pm: Siobhán McSweeney's back, as the remaining potters create a self-sculpture, build their own sawdust kilns and make candlesticks under pressure, for a place in the semi-final

CANADIAN REFLECTIONS (CBC) 11:30pm: The Story Coat; Bad Omen

[katefromoveryonder]

Major transits: Pluto and Mars

Happy Wednesday, day of Mercury energy. That's the small news. The big news is that Pluto moves into Aquarius tomorrow and Mars moves into Cancer on Saturday.

But back to Mercury -- because the way our minds turn, the energy fueling our thoughts may be the most important after all.

Mercury is at 6 degrees Aries, conjunct the sun and the moon and ten degrees from Jupiter at 16 degrees Aries. Mars-fed Mercury -- Cardinal sign, Fire element.

Use the energy of this active Mercury to pioneer something new, to take the leadership role, to overcome obstacles. Speak your mind. But don't be headstrong and obstinate, simply use the power of this active fire to fuel the quiet statement of authority. Make sure your direction is true, then fire this arrow of energy toward a goal.

In all the major movements taking place this week (Mars changes sign, Pluto changes sign), your mindset needs to be grounded as well as fueled by fire. Mercury rules airy Gemini and earthy Virgo.

PLUTO moves into air sign, Aquarius, tomorrow for a preview of next year's long-term move (Pluto in Aquarius 2024 to 2042). Pluto moves from Earth to Air, from Cardinal to Fixed, from Saturn to Uranus, from feminine to masculine. This first ingress into Aquarius lasts until June 11 when Pluto steps back into Capricorn for the remainder of the year.

Uranus and Saturn co-rule Aquarius. Uranus looks forward. Saturn looks backward and holds tight to structures even as they crumble. I look at Pluto, planet of power moving into Aquarius and I think of two powers trying to move us in different directions.

One wants old ways, old men, old authority -- one ring to rule them all. One wants the collective, tribal energy, and the sharing of goods and services.

Aquarius rules goals, accumulation of wealth, payday, expensive luxury items, awards, groups, the collective, circles of friends and allies.

What can it mean when the planet of power moves into the sign ruling these things? We have seen the work of Pluto in Capricorn -- big business and politics, social status, and authority figures have all gotten their work-over since Pluto entered Capricorn in 2008. If you look at the astrology of that time, you see Uranus opposing Saturn, the ruling planet of Capricorn. We saw old order challenged by forward thinking. Then it all seemed to take a giant step backwards until you realize that Pluto also brings up the hidden faultline. Ruler of the 8th house of death and regeneration, of the sign, Scorpio, sting of the scorpion, flight of the eagle and the midline Phonex rising from the ashes.

Taking a clue from that, we see that Saturn is now in water sign Pisces and Uranus is making its slow way through earth sign Taurus. I take this as a good omen for how this Pluto will ultimately move. It may not be a showdown -- these two planets are in harmony in these feminine signs, earth and water.

EBut the rulers formed during the Pluto in Capricorn era will not give up their structures easily. What might it mean when this planet of death and rebirth moves through the sign of unity, sharing, the collective and accumulation? Unity when true is a good thing. Enforced unity would not be a good thing. It's what Organized Christianity tried and failed at in the age of Pisces. You can't have unity when at war with yourself. Will world powers clash over the accumulation of wealth and land, to win at all cost and to hold tight to Saturn's authority?

Ah, but Pluto exposes the flaws of power-over and brings down those who use power for their own gain. Since 2008, Pluto has been in Capricorn -- business and politics. We have seen the rubble caused by world leaders bent on using political power for personal gain.

Pluto is generational. Your generation had a job to do and came into the world as part of a solution to flaws in the weave. What will the new Aquarius generation bring into the world -- what mend will the children born in the age of Pluto in Aquarius bring?

Since Pluto is the slowest moving of the planets we use for navigation in our journey back home, it is also the one least in our control. Mercury, however, may be malleable. Change your mind and change your life. It is hard work to change our mindset, but each day, we get a new chance to try.

Aquarius also desires peace and the unity of individuals remaining individual within a collective of wholeness. Aim your mind toward that goal. If you wish to accumulate, accumulate the practices aimed toward peace within and without. Shared power -- hands joining hands -- aim toward the dissolution of "them" vs "us".

[lis-likes-fics]

A Witch's Love | Chapter 6

Y/N pulled her phone out of her pocket, hoping it wasn't damaged in the portal. She sighed when she saw the small screen on it busted up. She tried turning it on, but it wouldn't. She shook her head and tossed it out before grabbing a bowl from the kitchen and setting it down in front of her.

She called to Mariah, "Riah, did you bring thyme?"

She called back, "Of course, it's a common herb, I would never forget it."

She turned to Jasper, "Can you grab it from the black herbal bag, please?"

He was in front of her with the herb in his hand in no time, a smile on his face as he sat down next to her on the cozy couch. She kissed his cheek and thanked him before untying the bindings on the plant and taking a few stems.

Y/N set it inside the bowl and put the rest away. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, snapping her fingers to activate her magic. She opened them again and hovered her hands over the bowl and muttering an ancient communication spell.

The thyme lit up in the bowl and she smiled. "Is that the communication spell?" Jasper asked curiously.

"You've been reading?" She smiled at him. He nodded, rubbing her arm gently, "Of course."

He kissed her cheek gently before returning to the burning herb. She spoke into the bowl, "Cullen house. Forks, Washington."

The fire died down and left the light smoke, which then shaped into a rectangle in front of them and swirled in the middle before revealing the living room in the Cullen house. Carlisle was siting there with Esme at his side, holding Emrys in her arms as he slept-- he slept a lot. "Y/N?" He asked, surprised and curious of the strange magic.

She smiled and waved, "Hey, Carlisle. Are the others there?"

He nodded and the covens joined on his end. Freya hopped onto her lap to join in the "call". Carlisle asked, "How are you? Did you all get there okay?"

She nodded, "Yes, we did. The leader of this coven is called Tristan Finn. He has a daughter, a son, and a coven daughter. I think I know what the problem is and why Verity called for help."

"Shoot," Celene said, Althea sitting in her lap.

"I think Tristan is the problem," she said as Mariah and Eileen came back upstairs where they were talking. They sat in the living room and nodded along. They'd picked up on it, as well.

"How can you tell?" Carlisle asked.

Eileen spoke this time, "He had a hyena as a familiar. His mark was a hyena with its teeth bared."

Mariah added, "And the thing looked monstrous. It had a giant tuft of hair on his back, red eyes, the whole thing."

Emmett spoke, "He's bad because of his familiar?"

Y/N shook her head, "No, his familiar is just a sign. Hyenas aren't familiars typically found with good witches or warlocks. A hyena as a familiar is a sign of maliciousness and cruelty. They usually come as second familiars. It's a bad omen."

Jasper added his piece, "His entire coven was terrified of him, even more so that hyena. Tristan was paranoid and bothered."

Freya almost growled, "Travis isn't good. He's a bad familiar. Challenged me against respect. He almost proposed Familiar Battle."

Y/N's eyes widened as she looked down at her familiar. Key word was "almost". She was glad he didn't. "He tried to call a Familiar Battle? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Wasn't safe," she said, looking up at her in slight fear and apology. She hugged her familiar closer before looking back at the Cullens. Celene, Levi, and Charlie looked at her in shock. Rosalie asked, "What's a Familiar Battle?"

Levi explained, "A Familiar Battle is when two familiars fight for dominance reasons. Usually, it's a fight to the death, but they can forfeit."

Celene spoke, her voice slightly shaky. She hated Familiar Battles, all creature witches did. It measured to the same level as sentencing a loved one to death or banishment. "If the familiar forfeits, the winner has the right to become their witch's new companion, whether their souls match or not-- which could lead to the deterioration of the witch's soul. The loser has to return to the Familiar Realm. If they return, they must find another witch within a decade or they cease to exist."

Y/N nodded, "It's such a cruel ritual that it's banned in many parts of the world. In Wyoming, it's legal only because no one knows of the coven that resigns here. I have to remember to ban it in Washington when I get back. It's such a rare occurrence no one remembers to bring it up unless it's mentioned."

Cole asked, "What happens if you don't accept the challenge?"

"It counts as a forfeit and the familiar loses," Y/N sighed, wiping her face with her hands to rid herself of the thought of losing Freya.

Ella spoke up from her spot in the room, "Travis is bad. Familiar Battle was warning."

Merida nodded, "Traviss and Trisstan are problemss."

"I'm going to speak with the coven members away from their eyes and ears so they can talk to me. We need to find out what the best course of action is. I hope we can redeem him. If not, I'll have to see about adopting the members into my coven..." Y/N said the last bit as an after thought.

Emmett asked, "Can't you just take them?"

Y/N shook her head, "No, witch laws. The members have to agree to be taken in through ritual like I was with the Rowena's coven, or the coven leader has to give them up. I have a feeling he won't be doing that."

"Or you could beat the leader in a duel to death or forfeit. If you duel, the winning leader takes the loser's coven. It's similar to familiars," Mariah added.

"Coven leaders can only be killed on two conditions. If the leader is killed in a duel or the leader has killed another witch without proper cause. If not, you're sentenced to death or banishment because you've left the entire coven without a leader. That's a lot of loose magic," Eileen nodded.

Cole muttered, "You guys are harsh sometimes."

Mariah shrugged, "It keeps the peace most times. The effects they have on covens limit the crime rate."

"So what are you going to do?" Esme asked gently.

Y/N shared a long look at Jasper, trying to figure it out herself. He trusted her to make the right call as he gave her a reassuring smile. She nodded, "I need to find out what happened and why he turned bad. If we can find a chance at redemption in him, we can save him and his coven. If not...I'll see what I can do about it then."

Carlisle nodded, "I know you'll do well, you always do."

She smiled, "Thanks, guys. We'll check in again tomorrow. Lev, Celee, daily reports?"

They nodded and Celene spoke, "We already got you covered. Don't worry about here. We'll be fine."

"Focus on them. You'll have no problems from us," Levi smiled. Lexi came up next to him, sitting down in front of him with a slight stretch, "I'm watching over them. You don't have to worry." Camille bobbed her head up and down in agreement. She didn't talk much, she relied on simple movements to communicate.

Y/N smiled, "Thank you. Bye, everyone."

They waved, Althea especially as she got out of Celene's hold. She stood in front of everyone, her face so close to their view that they only saw her mouth and nose. "Bye, Mommy! Bye, Daddy! Bye, aunties!"

They laughed, "Bye, sweetheart!"

Y/N smiled and ended the connection, dumping the sage remnants outside for nature to take care of. She turned back to Jasper, Eileen, and Mariah, "We've got a lot of work to do. We can start tomorrow. Today, we'll get settled in a little more."

Jasper spoke, "Who do we need to talk to first?"

Y/N replied, "I think we should speak with Verity first. She sent the letter, she might be able to expand on their problem. Then we'll speak to Kristen, then Anthony."

He nodded. This was witch business. He knew how to take a course of action. He was a major, of course he knew what to do. But he was a little out of his element and Y/N was the witch coven leader, she would know what to do more than he would. He was still learning their customs and there was still a lot more to learn.

But he would always be there for Y/N when she needed him.

She looked at him a little more from where she was, smiling slowly. She sat back down next to him and he immediately wrapped his strong arms around her. It eased her tension and melted her concerns away. They had only been here for about two hours and she was already stressed. He would be working overtime to make sure she was okay, but he didn't mind.

He kissed her gently and told her softly, "I love you."

"I love you," she sighed, wrapping her arms around him tighter.

Mariah and Eileen had slipped away a little before that. They went downstairs to finish getting situated. Downstairs was somehow bigger than upstairs. There was another small living area, but there were doors that led to their rooms.

When Y/N and Jasper got situated upstairs, they went downstairs to claim their room. She looked up and saw the two talking together as they laughed at each other's jokes. She smiled and joined Jasper in the room they chose.

She smiled up at him and he shared it, a hint of playful suspicion in his features. "What did you do?" He asked.

Y/N shrugged with one shoulder, "There may have been more than one reason for choosing them to come with us."

"And that reason is?" He asked, stepping over to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She smiled and kissed his nose, "Well, I basically sent them on a mission, just the two of them. Spending time with each other, with no over-enthusiastic, ready-to-join-in Celene. And you see it better than all of us."

He laughed, the sound coming from his chest, "Yes, I do. That's sweet, you're playing match-maker."

She laughed, "I'm not playing anything. I'm simply giving them a little nudge."

He shook his head, "My little cupid."

She smiled and started putting their stuff away. She hadn't missed Eileen and Mariah's moments. They worked well together but their interactions were more than friendly sometimes. She saw it, they seemed like lost puppies sometimes. They needed a little shove and Y/N was going to be the one to do it.

~

The next day, they all headed over to the Finn cabin. Y/N felt it would be a good idea to be over there as a form of protection if need be. After settling in, she and Jasper walked over to Verity, Y/N offered a soft smile. Verity smiled, "Hey."

"Hey, Verity. Do you mind if we go talk?" She asked.

She shook her head, "No, not at all." She turned to her falcon, "Come on, Van."

She held her arm out and Vanity perched there, readjusting her wings. They walked outside, walking away from the cabin for a while before they were alone.

"So, Verity-" she was cut off by a look from the witch.

She mouthed, 'Ears everywhere.'

Y/N nodded and said, "Let's head to our cabin."

She nodded back and that's what they did, walking over to the cabin they left for them to stay while they were here.

[aspiring-bl-writer]

This is a short story set in the Warhammer 40,000 universe, detailing a Death Guard attack on an Imperial world. The story is told from the perspective of an Imperial Guard lieutenant as his unit is saved by Adeptus Astartes from the Red Scorpions Chapter, who are obsessed with maintaining the purity of the Imperium and protecting humanity from any possible contamination.

They lurched forward in waves, unnatural and rancid figures, resembling the Adeptus Astartes, but their countenances blighted, sullied with the stench of decay. Swarms of flies clustered around them as the figures shuffled on deformed limbs. Their rusted suits of armor were greasy with a mucus oozing from pocked carapaces diffused with sores. They held oxidized, grime-coated weapons in twisted limbs disfigured by foul disease.

Despite their decomposing appearance, these disgusting parodies of Space Marines were formidable enemies. Wherever their weapons hit, the Imperial Guard fell, strains of crippling sickness spreading through their bodies. Weapons barely even fazed them, blasts and bolts absorbed into gnarled fusions of tissue and ceramite plate. Although the Guardsmen outnumbered them many times over, nothing seemed to interrupt the lethargic, scattered march of the Plague Marines. A discordant symphony of piercing shrieks, guttural death-rattles and the buzzing of warp-spawned pests followed them.

Lieutenant Selwyn Barras cursed the day he had ever set foot on Ephesos. His regiment had come to the feudal world in response to bombastic claims that the dead were rising and slaughtering the human population. Barras’ superiors had put down the preliminary reports to the superstitious hysteria of barely-civilized serfs toiling in dark lowlands, growing meager rice in paddy fields. Following their deployment, however, regimental commanders soon assessed the blunt reality. Epidemics had ravaged Ephesos for months, but rather than alerting Terra to the outbreaks, the planetary governor had remained doggedly focused on ensuring that the world supplied its regular tithe of rice bushels to the Imperium. The governor and his staff had been the only ones off-planet to know about the hastily-dug mass graves containing the hundreds of thousands of peasants claimed by the spreading pestilence. The governor had broken his silence only when reanimated corpses had clambered out of their crude, shared tombs, ravaging all living things discovered in their paths. Fortunately, the mindless undead could not hope to match the exceptional training and veteran leadership of an Imperial Guard regiment. Rot rendered once-human bodies into soft meat easily torn apart by laser fire. Defeating the zombie hordes had proved more time-consuming than challenging, and in a matter of weeks, most of Ephesos’ key cities had been reclaimed by the Astra Militarum.

Nature had not borne the plagues, nor their horrific creations. Unbeknownst to everyone, a Death Guard warband had instigated it all, and they were none too pleased at the disruption of their plans. They had attacked the Imperial forward positions overnight, hobbling across the horizon, a slow but thorough razing of all opposition. Regimental headquarters had instructed Barras to defend a dilapidated fortification along a stone wall running from a great river to a small inlet of a distant sea. The primitive masons who had constructed the barricade, with their limited knowledge of the larger universe in which they lived, would never have fathomed that their bulwark would someday be a citadel for the Imperial Guard against infernal demi-gods.

“Not much we can do without plasma weapons, much less armored support,” Barras murmured to himself, chewing on his lower lip. He let out a troubled sigh.

Commissar Aelia Tremelle, an ever-present face on the frontlines, could read the concern on Barras’ face as they observed the Plague Marines easily routing the forward positions. “The Emperor protects!” she yelled over the din of battle. What Tremelle lacked in persuasion she made up for in force of will. She was an ardent believer in the Imperium, and it was not hard to share her certainty, to emulate her zeal and unquestioning loyalty. Usually when Barras spied Tremelle’s peaked hat and fancily decorated coat, it bolstered his morale, reminded him that the all-powerful God Emperor safeguarded humanity, against enemies both material and immaterial.

This time was different. He reckoned by morning it was more probable he and the rest of the unit would be host to maggots rather than Tremelle’s unflappable passion.

He buried his pessimism, though, knowing he could not risk revealing it. Tremelle would have used it as an excuse for a summary execution, but that was not Barras’ main fear. He was more afraid that his despair would dishearten the rank-and-file, the men and women who depended on him for strength and guidance. Tremelle inspired them with moral purity, but it was from Barras they looked for leadership. If they saw him wavering, giving in to doubt and fear, they would resign themselves to annihilation. It was unlikely they could win against heretic Astartes, of course, but victory was not the goal now. Their objective was to offer the strongest resistance they could muster, to not give a single inch freely to the approaching traitors and their Chaos overlords.

He grabbed the Aquila necklace he wore and pressed it against his lips. Readying his bolt pistol, he turned from Tremelle to face the soldiers who had fixed their wide eyes upon him, their las-rifles primed. His heart thudded in his chest in anticipation as he searched for the words. “Have no fear! We will never surrender! We fight for humanity and the Emperor! All of you: die standing! Be ready to greet the Emperor with pride!” Tremelle cheered first as he finished, a booming hurrah, which the enlisted ranks copied with raucous shouting of their own. The speech, as brief as it was, had done its job.

Barras lifted himself up, aimed toward the Plague Marines, and fired. Lasers flashed past him, hitting their targets with great accuracy, but with minimal effect. The Death Guard traitors kept up their relentless march, cascades of shells spewing from their filth-encrusted weapons. Beside him, the side of Tremelle’s head exploded in a gory mess. Her corpse toppled over seconds later. A determined Guardsman took her place. Tremelle had often spoke of her demise in hallowed, sacred terms, promising it would be a noble sacrifice. In truth, Barras saw nothing poetic or dignified about it. Instead, he just wished that he would meet his death as quickly and unexpectedly as she had.

“Look!” Barras swung his head around and saw a trooper pointing heavenward. Following the upturned finger with his eyes, Barras noticed a trail of fire blazing across the sky. It looked as though a meteor storm had suddenly broken out over Ephesos, another ominous omen to go along with the dead rising and demonic corruption. He could not long take his gaze away from the oncoming scourge; their drumming bolters would not permit them to be ignored. Each concussive shot that landed sent dirt, blood and viscera flying. It took every ounce of willpower to take decent aim and fire, and every fiber of his courage not to lose his nerve when he saw a Plague Marine disregard the shot when it landed. The only weapon he possessed still serving its function was his faith, faith in the Emperor, for it was that alone that kept him rigid to where he stood.

Providence appeared to reward that faith. As the apparent meteoroids drew nearer, gaining ever more spectacular speed, it became clear they were something else entirely. They were drop pods of the Adeptus Astartes, and with ear-popping booms they plunged into the earth to the west of Barras’ position. Rocks and rubble sailed high in the air. Almost immediately pod doors whisked open, releasing their enormous occupants.

The head of every soldier in Barras’ unit, the lieutenant himself included, had turned to gawk at the Space Marines with awe. In their power armor, they stood just over eight feet tall. To call them colossuses would barely do them justice. Despite looking their human appearance, they were nevertheless alien and threatening, exuding auras of overwhelming violence. Their faces were hidden behind their helms, muzzle-mouthed and skull-faced, with piercing red lenses. Their armor was a pale tone of gray with yellow trim, and on their left pauldron a red scorpion raised its stinger menacingly against a white circle. In fluid motions, they smacked their bulky gauntlets on the stone eagle emblazoned over their breastplates before breaking out into sprints toward the Plague Marines. It seemed absurd that giants could move with such amazing celerity.

Barras’ eyes were fixed on the goliath leading the charge. While his brothers mostly fired bolters, he carried a two-handed maul with two heads, each swathed in a powerful disruptor field. Letting out a growl that sounded distorted and wolfish through his helmet speakers, the Marine swung his gigantic hammer and pounded an unsteady Plague Marine square in the chest. The sparking force field around the hammer’s head flashed on impact, amplifying the already inhuman strike to insane levels of strength. The Plague Marine flew backwards, landing and skidding around twenty yards away. Not dwelling on what he had just done, the maul-wielding Marine shouted to his comrades: “Let free the retribution of the Emperor, my brothers! Purge the unclean!”

Unbelievably, the fallen Plague Marine rose again, a crater on his chest, dazed but not nearly incapacitated. It took a few more steps before being engulfed in a searing fireball. Many of the Marines wearing the scorpion heraldry carried flamers, and were using them liberally to submerge their Death Guard foes in infernos. The consuming blazes did little to dismay their shambling targets, and most of the Plague Marines continued firing their bolters and swinging their blades even as the flames scorched their armor and burned away their fetid flesh. Rather than seek their survival, they seemed to welcome death once it was credibly offered to them, as if it were some cherished gift.

One of Barras’ soldiers let out a whoop of deliverance, sparking a chorus of additional supportive yells. With renewed dynamism, the Guardsmen resumed firing volleys, even if it was a weak supplement to the strength and firepower of their godlike saviors.

A small quantity of Plague Marines had died, but more were closing in on the attackers. Methodical salvos of bolter, flamer and plasma fire from the loyalist Marines thrashed the ranks of the Death Guard reinforcements, but few were stopped, and eventually the two forces met. A helmetless heretic, his head resembling a moldering shriveled prune, grappled with the Space Marine commander, a humming chainsword gripped in one tremendous fist. His dark moss-colored armor leaked with an unknown sludge. The Space Marine commander tried to shove him away, but his gauntlet slid clear due to the slimy gunk. The Death Guard warrior lunged, slashing his chainsword across the commander’s shoulder and blood sprayed where the chain found purchase. The commander did not cry out; instead, he slammed his elbow into his opponent’s belly and leapt backward, trouncing his maul onto neck and head. Like the rotted fruit it resembled, the Plague Marine’s head broke open, bone and brain obliterated in an eruption of sopping carnage. The decapitated body fell away as more enemies loomed.

The scene became a festival of massacres, a carnival of blood and brutality. Barras watched as a Space Marine died, an axe plunged into the space beneath his helm, and he fell to the sound of his own gurgling blood. One of his battle-brothers swept up his dead comrade’s bolt pistol and emptied the magazine into the killer. He was instantly set upon by a Traitor Marine carrying a combat knife, which in Barras’ much smaller hands would easily have been a broadsword. The Chaos-corrupted Marine drove the serrated blade into the gap between breastplate and helmet before wrenching it out. He stabbed repeatedly, laughing a sick wet giggle, until the Space Marine collapsed. The heretic was so caught up in his mania he did not even notice the Astartes commander swinging his maul until it landed on the Plague Marine’s back, shattering his spine. The hammer rose and fell over and over, quickly turning the soldier of Chaos into mere pulp and slush.

The battle was even, with the Space Marines winning slightly, but Barras wondered how long that would go on. The Death Guard Marines, though few in number, were only stoppable by extreme use of firepower or overwhelming brute force. In a conflict of pure attrition, the advantage lay with the nigh-invulnerable plague-bearing juggernauts. They were, Barras thought to himself, avatars of the inevitable entropy in the universe, the unpleasant but nevertheless harsh truth that all things, no matter how glorious or precious, would someday collapse and congeal, falling to ruin. Even the Imperium of Man, for all its splendors and righteousness, would at some point vanish from the universe, just as the brightest suns in the galaxy would someday be extinguished….

He was shaken from these heretical thoughts by the rumbling sound of Thunderhawks howling above him, their wing mounted guns blasting away. As the shells landed, the Plague Marines exploded in a series of detonations. With almost stoic passivity, the more distant Death Guard survivors were also torn apart by over-sized battle cannons spewing high-explosive rounds, others shredded by the shrapnel created by the rounds’ shell casings. The aircrafts banked around as they passed overhead, coming in low to the ground. When they landed, they unloaded streams of Space Marines, around twenty in each. From one, an enormous war machine strode clumsily down an exit ramp, roughly thirteen feet tall and just as wide. It moved in thumping, lazy steps, and its arms were weapons: the left was a steel arm capped by a wide chainsaw fist the size of an adult human, and the right was a long cannon with coils along its length that glowed dull blue.

The battle ended soon thereafter. Barras’ men, exhausted and mortified by their brush with certain death, relaxed their discipline and slouched against the walls, some leaning on their firearms. The only thing keeping them warm and energized was the relief of surviving, of having won a gamble with fate and come out the victor. They had earned their rest. Barras felt the urge to join them but stopped when he spotted the Space Marine commander with the maul moving towards him. He snapped to attention, as nervously as he had done in the officers’ academy. He did his best to remain composed, but reflexively blanched at the noisy bluster of servos from the Marine’s armor joints.

The Astartes set aside his maul and with gauntleted hands removed his helm. Beneath it, his head was bald and leathery tan, marred with crisscrossed scars. His eyes were a light and watery blue, blank, unfocused. Barras smiled softly, hoping a relaxed and warm expression would obscure his uneasiness before one of the God-Emperor’s chosen. Of course, he knew the galaxy contained more futile tasks. “I’m Lieutenant Selywn Barras, my lord,” he managed, “and we’re extremely glad to see you…”

“I am Brother-Captain Creon Mindarus,” the Astartes interrupted, “of the Red Scorpions’ Fourth Company. My orders are to purge this quadrant of the planet. Inquisitor Xanthus of the Ordo Malleus informed us that the traitors of the Fourteenth Legion were attempting to summon a powerful daemon, a harbinger of rot and ruin.”

Barras nodded. “Well, it would appear your mission was accomplished.”

“Not yet,” Creon said quickly. “Our orders were to cleanse this planet of Chaos taint, Lieutenant, and for us, that means all who were exposed to the corruption on Ephesos. Your unit has been deployed on the planet for several months, has it not?”

Barras arched an eyebrow. “Y-Yes, my lord, to wipe out the walking dead…”

“A task you did satisfactorily,” Creon replied with a cold monotone. “Yet, it was an error sending your regiment here. Despite its many commendations, you have one inherent flaw: you are mere humans.” He titled his head to one side briefly and clicked his tongue. “Well, most of you, at least. Your regiment has squads of abuhumans, yes?”

“Y-You mean the Ogryns?” Barras stammered. The Imperium of Man believed in the supremacy of humanity over the universe, but it nevertheless utilized near-human creatures in parts of the Imperial Guard. This included the gigantic mutants known as the Ogryns, as loyal as they were big and stupid. They made excellent shock troops, even if their very existence suggested tolerance of genetic mutation, which in turn may have invited spiritual corruption. “My lord, I have nothing to do with…”

The Astartes captain raised a hand to halt the protest. “It is irrelevant. Even without the presence of abhumans among your units, your regiment has been exposed to plagues and poxes your unmodified immune systems could not resist with guaranteed success. Rather than risk allowing you to leave Ephesos and potentially infect others, spreading the Chaos taint, we will have to liquidate your regiment as part of our operations.”

Barras went ashen as the blood drained from his face. His jaw dropped several centimeters and his eyes grew wide. “T-This is wrong! We did our duty!”

“As was appropriate,” Creon responded with indifference. “Nevertheless, you cannot claim direct descent from the Emperor himself, as we can. Even few Astartes chapters truly do.” There was no pride on his lips; he spoke matter-of-factly. “To protect the Emperor’s faithful, we must cull those susceptible to the insidious corruption of Chaos. You have always been told you may give your life for the Emperor; today, you will.”

On instinct, Barras moved to run. Obviously the Astartes was faster. He reached out and clutched Barras’ neck in his gauntleted fingers. The Guardsman struggled in the grip, choking for air. Creon tightened his hold, crunching bone and cartilage with barely a tensing of his muscles. Lifted off the ground, Barras’ feet kicked for solid contact, but soon went limp. The Astartes dropped him to the ground, where he fell with a thud.

By this time, the worn and weakened soldiers of Barras’ unit had noticed the execution of their commander. As they struggled to process what they had witnessed, they failed to notice that the charcoal-clad Space Marines had encircled them–and were now pointing their bolters, flamers, and plasma guns in their direction. Creon made a small motion with his hand. The Marines fired, cutting down the surviving Guardsmen with no mercy.

As las-fire and flame reflected in his blank blue eyes, Creon said: “Purge the unclean.”

[a-sketchy-a-day]

Made another dragon Beetlejuice drawing. With the added bonus of Lydia, and a dragon Barbara and Adam!

Read below the cut for an entire AU.

Okay, so it takes place in a universe where dragons exist (...obviously). There are drakes, wolfhound to horse sized wingless dragons that are quite common pets. Then there’s the rider dragons, which can only be owned by members of certain special guilds and orders. And then there’s the monster dragons, vicious, untameable, and told to poses powers.

Lydia is the child of a dragon rider, and thus she had a right to get a dragon of her own. So her mother, Emily, helps her pick out the egg of her future dragon and instructs her how to take care of it. But one day while out flying, Emily's dragon Sunny got struck during a lightning storm, killing them both.

Lydia devoutly continues to take care of the egg, but weeks after it was supposed to hatch, there is still no movement. When they get to the guild to get it checked out they find the hatchling had died just a month into development.

They instantly see it as a bad omen, that first her mother and then her dragon would die. Surely it is too mean that death will follow the child everywhere. Because if this they are seriously considering to banish the grieving girl.

Charles and his new partner Delia come to her defence though, the later insisting that maybe the dragon’s death means that she was never meant to have a common dragon. After all the first riders and some great heroes found their dragons in the wilderness. So with that, Lydia is sent to the forrest, not to return until she finds herself her ‘destined' dragon.

But, having lost her mother, having her father replace her, and with the last connection he had to her gone, Lydia has already lost her will to live. Instead, she has set path for the cliffs of a mountain nearby.

Barely the second day into her journey she meets two drakes, a copper brown one and a teal one, who instantly seem to get attached to her. They accompany her on her travels, hunt for her, make sure she stays warm at night. And honestly, Lydia is glad to have friends on her last few days. She calls the teal, female dragon Barb (because her spines point in the wrong direction), and the male Adem (‘Add ‘em’ because of his extra pair of limbs). While camping out in a cave to hide from another thunderstorm, they hear a threatening rumble. Out of the darkness slowly crawls a monstrous dragon with a fiery red mane and jaw, gleaming green eyes, and twin striped tails. Both Barb and Adem crawl back and curl up in fright, trying to pull Lydia with them, but she simply stands there staring at the beast thinking: "Hu, guess this is how I die than.” It blinks at her a few times, confused that she isn’t running, before making a lunges at her. Still no reaction. He towers over her, paws at the ground around her, snarls and snaps his jaws, but she doesn’t even flinch at the flames from his nostrils, and the deep roar that sends saliva flying at her simply get’s a dry: “Gross…" And as Lydia stares at the brute with a: ‘You gonna kill me yet or what?’ look on her face, it suddenly flops down, mane turning green in a flash, and only one single mantra going through the monster’s head: ‘New best friend, new best friend, new best friend, new best friiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeend!’ And thus the party became four.

At first Lydia tries not to care, but it’s annoying how the giant dragon just keeps following and ‘purposely badly hiding every time they turn around to look’. He doesn’t even seem to mind Lydia’s gloomy mood, and takes every frustrated scream and smack she gives him a delighted grin. But the times she apologises for her outbursts or plays with his mane, he looks downright over the moon. Eventually Lydia reaches the cliffs. She looks down over the edge, causing Adem to nervously takes her dress between his teeth so she won’t fall. She backs up again, making the drake let go, she takes a few steps away…and makes a running leap into the deep. This is it, this is what she came here for. She can hear Adem and Barb’s frightened cries behind her, but they’ll be okay. Dad and Delia will figure it out, maybe they’ll have a kid of their own, and they’ll be non the wiser about what happened to her. And she’ll be okay too. Wherever her mom is, she’ll be there soon too. And then a pair of red claws wrap around her, thunderous wingbeats in her ears. At first Lydia is furious that, whatever she tries, BJ (Big Jerk) won’t let her die. Anytime she jumps, he catches her. Anything deadly she tries to attract he scares away. Venomous plant spotted? Oh, it’s on fire now. But then it sorta becomes a game, and honestly she’s mostly just challenging him now. She tries to deprive herself of sleep, but he just curls his tail around her to keep her still and despite being dirty and smelling weird, his mane is supper soft and warm. Hard to stay awake under those conditions. At one point when they sit down to eat, Lydia hesitates, puts the roasted rabbit back down, and gives BJ a smug look. Next thing she knows she blinks back to consciousness, fat and meat juices smeared across her face and hands, Adem and Barb looking at her with wide, horrified eyes, and BJ giving her an equally smug look back.

One day another rider flies over the spot where they are resting. Lydia stares after them with wistful eyes. Suddenly she is snatched up by the back of her dress and plopped down to grab hold of think green fur. There is a moment of calm while Barb and Adem get plopped down between the larger dragon’s shoulders too. And then they launch into the air. Lydia used to fly with her mom now and then. It never failed to make her laugh, to lift her spirits. Sometimes they’d fly to close over another rider’s head to give them a good scare. Sometimes her mom would take her hands off the leads with a loud ‘Don’t wanna fly anymore’, so Lydia could take over and try it out. Those were some of the few places or times that felt like she belonged. Sure, BJ isn’t Sunny, neither Barb nor Adem is her mom, but for the first time since that fateful storm, she feels a tiny bit closer to home again. So she gently spurs BJ on and pulls his mane, and the curious dragon lets himself be steered right on top over the other rider. They notice the dark shadow appearing over their head, despite the clear skies. They darn near soil themselves when they notice the giant predator hovering over them. Lydia can’t stop laughing at the reaction, and ‘BFFFF forever!' keep echoing progressively louder through BJ’s head. Deciding that maybe continuing to live isn’t too bad after all, Lydia steers BJ back into the direction of her village.

When they return, at first the council is disappointed to see Lydia walk in with two drakes. It doesn’t last long though, as a gargantuan form follows on her heels. Because you know, the monster dragon she brought with her is a Striped Demon. They posses great powers, even to twist the world around them to their wishes. Only the cruelest and strictest of men had ever attempted to tame them. Needless to say, the only people who ever managed to ride one quickly became dark lords. And most of them didn’t live very long. Now, with one of those legendary dark beasts happily doing as she asked, they fear that that dark omen from before is less ‘bad fortune will strike those around her’, and more ’next dark queen’. (Which way it will go depend on whether you’re a ’step on me dark lady’ lesbian, or a cottage-core one.)

[punisheye]

"It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead." — Kyle Reese, The Terminator (1984)

"Hey, you used to work here, didn't you?"

It's half-past midnight in the Golden Ward. The club's lights dimmed low, he's only a broad shadow at the corner of the bar. Fingertips chase condensation on the surface of his glass of whiskey gone untouched, while his other hand brings a cigarette to his lips. A deep drag, smoke expelled through his nostrils, eyes cutting to the bartender who addressed him. He smiles lazily. There is no kindness behind it.

"Did I?"

"Yeah, went off to start your own business. Acting like you don't remember, huh? I know bartending's not an illustrious career like bein' a business owner, but…"

"A lot's happened. Hard to keep track." The Shadow is pushing himself up from the barstool. He looms. The shadows move with him. Whiskey, still untouched. Cigarette, crushed in the ashtray. The bartender shifts a little, uncomfortable. Dark eyes illuminated by a thin strip of pale light turn to the array of alcohol up on display behind the bar. A moment to ponder, a moment to look, until he's jabbing his finger towards one particular bottle up on the top shelf. "Get me that one. The whole thing."

Not a request. A demand, his voice dry, but intense. Authoritative. The bartender flinches, their eyes following the Shadow's finger. Something akin to confusion flashes across their face when their gaze lands on the bottle, their brows furrowing, lips parted, but nonetheless, they still bring up the step stool to reach the high shelf so they can take hold of the bottleneck. When they step down, they're examining the logo closely, their head tilted.

"I don't remember ever seeing this one here… must have just recently come in." The bottle is placed on the bar, right in front of him. "If you gimme a sec, I gotta look it up in the system, then I can put it on your tab—"

"Don't bother."

"Huh?"

He picks up the bottle, circling around the bar, headed straight for the front doors. The bartender stands in momentarily stunned silence, gears turning, before they shout, "Hey, you gotta pay for that…!"

The bouncer at the door is already moving to block his way. The Shadow keeps walking with the bottle held at his side like he doesn't see him, like he doesn't exist, like he can just walk right out the door unhindered. Except a hand grabs his arm, forcing him to a stop. Brows twitch. He doesn't say a word, doesn't even look at him.

"You pay for that or you leave it," the bouncer says, voice low.

The Shadow blinks slowly but says nothing. Doesn't even move. His arm remains in the bouncer's tight hold.

"Did you hear me? Look. I don't wanna get rough with you, but—"

"You ever shut the fuck up? Yer voice is pissin' me off," he finally says. He hasn't tried to move yet.

The bouncer flares up. "What? Do you think you're funny? I'll—"

Crack. The movement is a blur, his arm ripped free from that pathetically weak hold and his elbow slamming right into the bouncer's face. Blood gushes from his nose immediately. A few people shout in alarm but the Shadow pays them no mind. He uses the base of the sturdy bottle to thwack the bouncer over the head and the man goes crumpling to the floor, whimpering, one hand over his broken nose and the other cradling the thick knot forming on his head. The Shadow turns and, casual as can be, walks out of Club Euphoria into the streets. The moon is reflected in the dark water of the ocean.

The Shadow hums, sticking another cigarette between his lips and flipping his lighter open. The flame briefly illuminates his face, eyes glinting red in its tiny light. In the dark, the cherry burns vibrantly.

With The Bride beneath his arm, he begins his leisurely stroll.

—

It's close to three in the morning when Wolfwood's phone starts ringing. He ignores it at first because who the fuck calls at three in the morning? But then after a brief period of silence, it starts up again. Vash stirs briefly beside him but doesn't wake. Wolfwood blinks his eyes open and, groggily, reaches over to grab his phone from the nightstand. He accepts the call and mumbles out, "It's three in the mornin'."

Turns out it's from his old place of employment, and they're pissed off and confused. They saw him come in for a little after midnight and then make off with a bottle of alcohol after attacking the bouncer. Wolfwood thinks they must be fucking with him at first, or maybe the runt did something and now he's taking the blame for it. But with what he's heard through the grapevine about the other him's new line of work, that wouldn't make sense.

"…Was at home that time. I got an alibi, even." An alibi that's really no one's business, but still. "Sure it ain't someone that just looks a lot like me?"

A heavy sigh on the other end. It's not the owner, but Wolfwood figures he'll hear from him soon enough. "No one here wants to believe it's you, but they're on the way to your place to take you in for questioning."

"Fantastic," is all he says before he hangs up.

He quietly rolls out of bed and pads through the dark room so he can dig out his clothes and actually get himself dressed. Wolfwood bends over Vash's side of the bed, dipping his head down to press a kiss on his cheek. Vash makes a little sound in his sleep, nuzzling into the pillow. For Vash's sanity, he leaves a note that he had to head out for something important and that he shouldn't worry, he'll be home later.

Wolfwood doesn't speak to the cops when they show up outside of saying, "I don't talk to cops."

In the back of that police vehicle, he becomes acutely aware of a familiar weight in his pocket, and he feels a sickening sense of dread.

[ravnicaforgoblins]

Ravnica for Goblins

More Awesome NPCs of Ravnica

NPCs are one of the most important tools in a DM’s campaign. Your assorted guards, informants, bartenders, hench-persons, random civilians, and, of course, your quest-givers. Optimistically, you hope to have certain NPCs stick around for a while to have the party build a relationship with them, as opposed to getting murder-hobo-ed because your party doesn’t like their attitude. Which is why it’s so great that Ravnica is filled with cool NPCs who are definitely stronger than your party (for a while)!

A couple notes; I already did a list of Awesome NPCs, focusing on the Ladies of Ravnica, so this time I thought I’d try and give the boys (and Melek) some spotlight. Secondly, as I’ve by now made annoyingly apparent, I’m focusing on characters in the modern era of Ravnica, i.e. after the Decamillennial, because everything before the Decamillennial is a nightmare to figure out and you don’t need that headache.

Tajic, Blade of the Legion

You can’t have the Boros without Tajic. Well, you can, but you don’t want to. Tajic is the Legion’s Champion as well as their Mazerunner, and embodies all the ideals the Legion stands for. Unity, strength, passion; an unbreakable shield against all who would threaten Ravnica’s citizens. He is technically considered a Firefist, but special considerations should be made to give him the flavor he really deserves. Both of Tajic’s MTG cards have had some manner of protection against damage when involving other creatures. In addition, Firefists are actually primarily spellcasters, whereas Tajic is never seen without a blade in his hand or his name. So, to sum up, take a Firefist, add in some manner of damage resistance or even immunity contingent upon having allies present, throw in a weapon trick or two for his big wavy sword, and ta-da! You’ve got Tajic!

Momir Vig, Simic Visionary

I know I said no pre-Decamillennial, but Momir Vig is a special case. Technically, the former Guildmaster is dead, but the shadow of his reign still lingers over the Simic Combine. Momir Vig symbolizes everything Ravnica fears about the Combine; progress without restraint. Vig’s cytoplasts were oozes designed for personalized evolution in subjects to correct flaws and deficiencies (regrowing lost limbs, bolstering weakened immune systems, extra brain cells, etc). The only problem is that the project worked so well that Vig stopped seeing the need for consent, creating a new form of cytoplast that only needs to touch a host to bond with it. This raised some understandable concerns among Ravnican citizens, as well as the other Guilds. These concerns went to 11 when Vig’s Project Kraj, a gargantuan organism composed of thousands of cytoplasts, was activated to purge Ravnica and start over with a fresh slate. They went to a further 12 when Vig was killed, Project Kraj summoned every cytoplasm back to it (maiming, crippling, or killing a large number of hosts), and proceeded to go on a rampage that only ended after it ate Rakdos and went into a coma.

Momir Vig is exactly the kind of mad scientist to escape the grave, go underground, and continue his research unimpeded until it’s ready. A Rogue Guildmaster with no boundaries, or as we like to call it, a ready-made Big Bad.

Melek, Izzet Paragon

As with Vig, Melek is canonically dead, but that sort of “dead” that could conceivably be temporary if the story requires it. Melek is a Weird designed by Niv-Mizzet himself to be the Izzet Mazerunner. A certain sparkmage had other ideas however, so he absorbed the sentient being of pure elemental energy into himself at the start of the Maze and took its place, then tried to shock the other runners to death because, you know, winning. But following the physics principle that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed into a different form, it’s believable that Melek could return someday. Probably with a grudge against said sparkmage. Melek is a fascinating build, combining high-level spellcasting with complete elemental resistance or possibly even immunity. Basically, a wizard who can tank. Even more intriguing, any lab run by a being composed of pure energy would be calibrated to channel said energy, possibly allowing short-range teleportation within said lab. This is a brilliant exercise in lair mechanics, so don’t hold back. Lest we forget Melek is a personal project of the Firemind, aka, the single most brilliant, powerful, and egocentric fire-breathing ancient dragon wizard in Ravnican history.

Tomik Vrona, Distinguished Advokist

Given the Orzhov Syndicate’s seeming fascination with being a faceless hierarchy of priests, lawmages, ghosts, tax collectors, etc; it’s nice to have another face with a name. Tomik Vrona is a lawmage who apprenticed under Teysa Karlov herself, making him a master of Ravnican law. It also makes him uncharacteristically open to relationships with other Guilds, as he is effectively Teysa’s link to the outside world during her imprisonment. Tomik carries a strong respect for the law, but is a passionate lover of interesting & creative loopholes. In short, he’s not inherently evil/greedy like most of the Syndicate, but still has ambition in spades. He prefers to use gargoyles for transportation, treasures every book he owns, and is canonically dating/living with that hot-tempered sparkmage mentioned previously. Whether the relationship is public or not is up to you. I personally see it as a measure of trust between the NPCs and the party; it’s a pretty controversial pairing of Guilds. It could even be a Romeo & Juliet (Julio?) kind of affair, just putting that out there.

Vorel of Hull Clade

If Momir Vig represents the dark side of the Simic Combine’s experiments, Vorel represents the infinite possibility they can offer. A former Gruul shaman, he made the decision to give up a piece of his clan’s territory to a Boros Legion garrison to better fortify their home turf, and was nearly killed when they turned on him for perceived cowardice. Vorel escaped and joined the Combine, where he was given Merfolk traits and an environment that embraced his ideas & strategic thinking. Vorel is extremely grateful to his new Guild, and believes himself to be an example of how anything is possible through the Simic, no matter one’s origins. His strong passion & drive have led to great breakthroughs, but he’s definitely more emotionally-driven than most Simic researchers. Here is a Biomancer that isn’t afraid to get dirty or bloody in combat. This could be a fun experiment in crafting a Simic Melee Weapon.

Tolsimir Wolfblood, Ledev Guardian

You know that one leader elf in fantasy stories who everyone else takes orders from but never fights themselves? Yeah, this isn’t that elf. This is what you wish that elf was, a warrior archer who leads his soldiers into battle atop a giant dire wolf and kicks some serious ass. The Ledev are Selesnya’s elite mounted force, skilled fighters, archers, swordsmen, and even spellcasters. They are the cavalry, the breaking dawn on Hornburg, the “oh shit” in an enemy’s mouth. Please don’t make the mistakes of countless fantasy novels by being on bad terms with such badass warriors. Having any member of the Ledev behind you should be a boost to the party’s courage & resolve. Having Tolsimir fight alongside you should be one of the greatest honors of your life. The chance to finally recreate that “besties” relationship between Legolas & Gimli as you see who can kill the most enemies in battle.

Domri Rade, City Smasher

I hesitate to include Domri, I genuinely do. He’s a scraggly little punk who nearly brought about the destruction of the Gruul (and all of Ravnica) ultimately because he was too weak and too stupid. I include him here out of respect for the lore, but you can honestly do better. Domri Rade was considered too small & weak for any Gruul clan, so he instead bonded with the savage animals of the Rubblebelt, eventually discovering he could incite them into stampedes at will. This new power finally granted him admission into Borborygmos’ own Burning Tree Clan, but he panicked during the burial rite of passage and planeswalked away for the first time. Eventually he learned to control his powers, returned to the Rubblebelt, challenged Borborygmos for leadership of the Burning Tree clan, and won by sending wave after wave of stampeding boars to trample the cyclops Guildmaster. He was enlisted by Nicol Bolas to help destroy Ravnica, and failed to realize that meant him too as an eternal ripped out his Planeswalker Spark, killing him. Domri Rade is basically a cheap knockoff of Garruk Wildspeaker, only smaller and weaker and dumber and infinitely less dangerous. He is, however, considered by many to be an omen of the End-Raze, heralding the return of the Boar God Ilharg and the burning down of Ravnica by the Gruul who follow the Old Ways. So maybe play up that angle if you include him in your campaign.

Ral Zarek, Izzet Viceroy

If you only include one NPC from any of my lists in your Ravnica campaign, you must include Ral Zarek. Failing to do so is denying your players the opportunity to interact with the single coolest character in Ravnica. He beats out Vraska for the sole reason that he’s a much more public & accessible figure than the Gorgon Assassin, and an unexpected encounter with him is significantly less likely to end in your death/petrification. Between his good looks, cocky grin, brilliant mind, and lightning powers that put Thor to shame; Ral is certain to make any situation more interesting. He’s a great contact to have within the Izzet, a brilliant researcher, extremely talented with designing gadgets or magic items, an astonishingly powerful magic user, and a fun guy to hang around with. He can definitely have a temper on him, so understand when to back away. Hint: His hair turns from black to white when his electromancy powers are activating. You’ll also probably notice the sounds of static discharge building up around him, perhaps a faint smell of ozone, crackling energy coming from his gauntlet, and, oh yeah, his eyes glow and his smile turns into a growling grimace of death as he fills you with lightning. Whether by design or accident, Ral is basically the mascot for Ravnica, and it’s almost unthinkable for him to be absent from a campaign set there.

[arrowmistress]

Ἀπόλλων || @audaciiae​ continued from here

A part of him twinges with some sense of regret as he watches Artemis mourn her dear companion. She is his sister, his twin, and as she is filled with grief, so is he, in some respects. They are opposites, night and day, yet so similar. Had he not mourned in the same way over Daphne? Hyakinthos? Perhaps that is another reason why he was so jealous. Why should Artemis know the love of a mortal when he has gone through so much pain himself? She should know, too. She should feel it just as he does.

A terrible reason, but a reason all the same. He stews in his jealousy, lets his anger get the best of him. Not even gods can bring back the dead, and even this was fated, for they are helpless to the whims of the sisters. Even still…

Did you know?

Of course.

The god of truth, incapable of lying, even if he wanted to. At first, he just lets out a slight laugh, pushing a hand through unruly blond curls. Artemis isn’t stupid, and he didn’t make it difficult. Let his ire be felt.

“Yes,” is what he finally says after a few moments of silence, followed by another small laugh. Is it a nervous one? Or gleeful? Not even he can tell. Artemis’ eyes bore into his, and all he can do is grin. “I’m not blind, sister. As you see better in the night, I do in the day. I knew it was him, and I did it anyways. I didn’t expect it to be so easy, but you have never been able to turn down a challenge, have you?”

It is the strangest feeling. Apollo hasn’t even answered yet, but he doesn’t need to. It’s the silence, the terrible silence that precedes an omen, a prophecy, a death wish. Perhaps she’s known it all along, deep in her guts. 

Isn’t that what twins are for, all but reading each other’s minds?

And here she was, talking about eels, and stags, and scorching sunlight just to delay this foreboding moment. Her hand itches for her bow, her quiver, something, fueled by the familiar sensation of threat, the one which guides her steps and sets her aim in the hunt for a beast. Yet, it is her brother’s face she sees. The one she has known and loved from the womb. How could she, even in her divine nature, possibly reconcile both truths?

His laughter sends a chill through her spine; an ice-cold sound she would never expect from the embodiment of the sun—not directed at her, at least. With eyes fixed on his, she slowly positions herself between the god and the limp body she’d once called a friend. Her wrath is quiet, as it has always been. Lethal, but silent, like the lynx that stalks its prey and claims it in nightly stillness, leaving but a leaf out of place.

“I ask you now, brother, why,” she says through gritted teeth, rising to her full height; the figure that led sixty huntresses across mountains, through the darkest of valleys, to pursue the most vile of monsters. “Have I not held you for nine months in the womb, and afterward for nine days and nine nights not rested to ensure your safe arrival into this world?”

A step toward him.

“Tell me, did I not join you in slaying Niobe’s fourteen children with our swift arrows? And has my aim not matched yours when we sent the giant Tityus to the Underworld?”

Orion’s blood drips down her chin, her arms, her tunic, that which should never be stained by the red of her dear hunters, her life companions.

“Pray tell me, brother, what terrible deed I have committed for you to betray my trust and my love.”

[incarnateirony]

*Sits down at desk*

*calmly files through books in front of a fireplace to classical music* *glances up at the camera* Oh, hello. *demurely pulls off glasses*

What makes a rights movement work? Is it the dialogue? The discourse? The trolling? 

Tonight, I thought I’d tell you a little story and let you decide.

---

...*just looks to Good Omens fandom* So we have... *flips through* An accepted canon queer pairing between two leads, with no rival ships. The singular author has been receptive to queer readings, as has both of the actors, even if one clarified he doesn’t “play it like that.” But by authorial support, vague as it was, it was canon. 

...*flips channel to season 10 supernatural fandom* So here we have an accusation of queerbait between two leads with a similar story, with several major rival ships. Of the multiple authors, several have been supportive, many silent, one actor said he plays it like that, the other clarified he doesn’t.  Antis, often rival-shippers, heckled. Cas was a villain, not a friend.

*Plays through til’ Season 12 - 3 seasons ago - “doesn’t exist”* *1997 popup spam*

... *flips channel to season 13 supernatural fandom* So here we have antis having a panicked discussion about how Dabb could canonize Destiel without any sort of admission or physical engagement for it to be valid, while admitting at the actor that used to say he didn’t play it seems okay with it now, as well as it becoming an official marketing line, which they later denied. They mutually aired at Cas not even being cared for in public, while saying Dean cared more about him than Sam in their own lane. (x) (x) (x) (x) I mean, between them screaming at How Dare They Pander With The 13.05 Ending Being Romantically Shot. But everyone forgot that I guess.

*flips to season 14* Let’s see, genderswap, identical but truncated couple, same landmarks... no rivals... *checks box* cool, everyone sees canon.

...*flips to season 15 fandom* *gestures at the everything, including the storytelling style they described that could be used to be amply canon by time flashbacks and Cas’ death* 

*looks at parts of shipping fandom trying to argue with season 10 anti fandom takes, but simultaneously repeating them*

*looks at season 13 anti fandom*

*files through recently sanitized anti walls that went on their third rage tear about the show being pandered by being romantic, since the current showrunner turn over* *clicks channel* “Destiel is real” - Jensen *menu flip* “Sam has better taste/Dean has no taste--” *clicks next* “domestic dispute--” --Jensen after filming 15.09 *clicks* “Our characters would be fucking [on another network]” --Misha after 15.09 *clicks to major media channel* “Breakup” - TVG *flips through other multiple TVG Destiel ads over to Variety* Relationship-- *flips across to soap opera reporters* 15.03 Dark point in the romance-- *flips to extrafanon, nonprofessional hubs* Hm, apologies for viewing it with a heteronormative lens until now from nonshippers that usually don’t cover the show, while fandom hangs itself on its own hubs in precarious silence or refusal to address the most challenging material. Alright.

*flips to modern marketing* Hm, DeanCas commercials *clicks* Oh right, that official Join The Hunt Destiel shirt that was printed and tagged and receipted like that, that they tried to tantrum offline *clicks* OH right that OTHER Destiel canon pride shirt that Stands just HAPPENED to make this year.

*turns off television* *blinks* *rubs brows*

*tents fingers*

So at some very bizarre point, things have seemed to switch around here.

At one point, Destiel fandom was avid that the romance mattered more than the physicality, even for canonicity. They, themselves, pointed out how homophobic and double-standard it was to demand a kiss when not all hetero couples need them to be valid. But admittedly, back then, the subtext pool was shallow. A veneer placed by a few key authors.

And yet today, while antis scream in waves, their own predictions and fears of how Dabb would handle Destiel coming true, their own “kiss or it doesn’t count” logic (presented only to positive fandom, of course, with the above links of their conversations among themselves where they knew that didn’t matter) seems to have transmitted like a disease rused in representation battles but in the name of arguing with them, of validating them, of giving them any sort of relevance in a show that overtly mocks them and while they riot and fit and convulse and delete and recant opinions, spewing things they don’t even believe anymore (above links.)

it's LITERALLY the same tactics as in Trump politics, where they just flood bullshit they don't even believe to keep people elevating them having any relevance at all in the conversation and distracting them from the actual core conversation/content. Disseminating misinformation and confusion to the conversation. Hell, going so far as to spend months building fake blogs to integrate to the culture and later spread bullshit (which was its own comedy act in the end)

Also the same tactic TAW used to try to inflate completely made up bullshit bad PR about Mish by getting well meaning fans of his floating the conversation by defending him and keeping it in the public eye. ITS THE SAME SHIT.

And yet here we are, with this fandom’s version of alt right dialogue having infected its respective progressive left, with tinhats instead of redhats vaguely yelling about Dabbama and spewing pointless self-defeating nonsense, but at some point -- somehow these fandom MSGAhats managed to successfully implant their ideology in the fandom and convince supporters of Team GreenBlue their active deletion of the content that these antis, themselves, once qualified as terrible potential canons, that are now very real -- that the deletion of this is what makes progressive dialogue.

Their nature is contrarian. Contrarian to TPTB Contrarian to canon Contrarian to other fans Contrarian to themselves

TPTB are already ignoring them. Oh my bad, BLOCKING. Some have gone past muting into BLOCKING them. Canon doesn't care

If fans would stop humoring all fuckin 50 of them they'd only have themselves to be contrarian with.

Humoring them also includes internalizing their hilarious dialogues as anything worth two fucking pennies much less anything to contend with or prove or meet their clown bars of

Oh and while I'm thinking about it: As recently as S13, antis were still trying to pretend it was a reasonable opinion that "Cas isn't family, or friend, Dean doesn't care about him at all, much less Sam" In a year and a half they slid to "THEY'RE ONLY BEST FRIENDS NOT LOVERS!"

Seriously. Now take the absurdism of the S13 scenario Turn your scope into the current scenario Realize how every big publication has been addressing this shit And here we are! The new absurdism is, deadass, denying it. And convincing other fans that they somehow need to prove the flagrantly obvious, just like season 13~ with Cas' importance to the family. Just like any other intentionally daft way they suck up air and kilobits while frothing more than a rabid dog.

It's this weird mewling whimper, already settling down all of their values but desperately, hoping in this giant publicly visible homo tornado that the media itself is commenting on, that somehow, they can convince the GA who can't hear them anyway that it ain't gay. But somehow having convinced the rest of the fandom, now, that a stupid ridiculous-ass viewpoint this fandom used to know better than needing or demanding (rather than wanting or desiring, or encouraging) is needed to "prove" something to a GA that... *turns TV back on and files through the channels* ...Thheyyyyyyyyyy seem to be getting it better than shipping fandom right now, actually.

Stop internalizing horse shit and letting it redirect your activism like a damn political bot.

Unless, I don’t know-- unless you decided, with all of this -- since I did say you could decide -- that this remaining absurdity in the fandom is actually any kind of activism rather than trained demolition of your own content.

Grand as their self-contradictory public facade is, what I wouldn’t pay to be a fly on their GC walls to see their nega-clowning panic right now.

You know that goddamn meme republicans pass around where they or Trump just need to say the dumbest shit possible to make “stupid libs” chase the cat laser? THAT IS LITERALLY WHAT THIS FANDOM HAS LET THESE FUCKING IDIOTS DO TO THEM FOR YEARS TO THE POINT Y’ALL HAVE STARTED ARGUING THE OPPOSITE OF WHERE YOU STARTED.

[paperanddice]

Spire Walker

Very minor electricity fey, spire walkers get their name from their frolicking over the peaks of great towers to get as close to storm clouds as possible. Another nice case of straightforward naming. They’re chaotic neutral assholes, causing them to be chased off by cloud giants and lightning themed dragons who can’t stand them anymore, but they’re a bit more of an issue to non-lightning immune creatures. They don’t play their pranks with the intent to kill, but their incredibly risky and wild roughhousing with each other and the targets of their pranks can result in injury or death. They move on pretty quickly though, sparing just a moment to a dead friend before going through their pockets and going on with their day.

A clurichaun drunkenly made his way up to the roof of a watchtower after being challenged, but couldn’t figure out how to get down again after. He wound up deciding to sleep on the tower and get down in the morning, only to get struck by lightning when a storm whipped up. While the faerie survived, he’s been drawn to try and repeat the incident, climbing up to the highest points in the town during storms and baiting further lightning strikes as a slow transformation takes place.

A floating cloud giant fortress is raiding the countryside, demanding tithes from towns and wiping out those who refuse. Assaulting the fortress in return is difficult, and when a team finally manages to bypass the external defenses they find themselves trapped inside with dozens of giants and hundreds of minions. Avoiding drawing the attention of the entire force is vital, and one option is to make friends with the spire walkers that live in the peaks of the fortress’ towers. They know all the smallest and best hiding spots, but spending any time with them requires putting up with their constant pranks and roughhousing.

Spire walkers are an omen on ships. They appear on the mast before storms, calling out for lightning strikes. Killing them not only doesn’t stop the storm, but is considered bad luck as the lightning seems to strike the ship with even greater fury, and every sailor has a story of some crew member directly struck by lightning after killing one of the fey. Far less common are the stories of spire walkers protecting a ship from a lightning strike, leaping from the mast directly into an oncoming bolt and absorbing it, vanishing in the act.

[salemrising666]

my depression and health battle

DEPRESSION

IS A BATTLE THAT CAN BE WON

as I pull the petals of this beautiful flower I noticed I had reached the last petal as I muttered to myself im lucky and tore it away from its steam I noticed one small underdeveloped petal hanging on for dear life and I muttered im not lucky and with my bad luck streak in life I thought it was some kind of omen was this a sign that my bad luck streak would never end or was I bein stupid overthinking things yet again I guess we can only find out as I battle my demons.

I sat there for a few minutes trying to talk myself out of this sign that everything would be fine it had to be my luck had to turn at some point hadnt it?

When I was 15 I started having eye trouble and my thirst for sugar had increased dramatically my parents had noticed this more than I had and suggested I go see a eye specialist to sort my eye troubles out when we got there my parents mentioned the sugar intake and they tested my blood sugars which were off the charts high I had further blood tests to soon discover that I was a type one diabetic and because of all the sugar in my bloodstream had temporarily changed my eye shape hence the blurred vision,i was sent to a hospital for two weeks to earn the ins and outs of how to take care of myself with this new disease it was scary and so hard I had never had a phobia of needles but to learn that I would here on out have to stick a needle into my stomach with each meal snack and drink was scary and take my sugars before each meal which would mean also stabbing my fingers scared the hell out of me and I thought why me why now anda lot of damage had already been done as I could have been diabetic for wuite a while before they had found it

I was to face some debhilitating challenges almost dying and permenant damage that would change my life forever things I would have to learn to live with and adapt to such as permenant eye damage agonizing diabetic neuropathy the loss of my left small toe then a further amputation of the joint including multiple procedures like laser eye surgery eye injections eye surgery two amputations the removal of all my teeth due to gastro peresis stages where I couldnt stomach any food throwing it all up losing weight to where my organs were failing and me on my death bed and not knowing why I have neer given up in all these struggles even though I knew oh well eating will end up with me bent over the toilet for hours being labelled as having a eating disorder and trying to convince doctors no this is medical and something was wrong having a feeding tube forced down your throat becausee of these labels and watched while I showered and used the toilet was horrible being in hospital for three months fighting for my life as I never realised how important food was for your body till I was striken with gatsro peresis and not being able to consume it and practically starving to deathi thought this was it this would kill me as nobody could find what was wrong and trying to tell me I was doing this to myself on purpose I refused to leave myhouse as I was ashamed of how thin I was I got down to 31 kilos and there was nothing left of me I was stuck in mental health and was forced to talk to psychiatrists about my so called eating disorder as they tried to help me but how can you fix something that doesnt exist they finally realised months later after leaving the hospital that it was medical from all of the tests I was made to do im still battling these issues today truing to gain weight I have also lost a large portion of my eyesight due to diabetic neuropathy when the blood vessels overgrow and cause permenant damage and the obly way to stop th further damage is to have laser ee surgery to try stop the vessels from growing which worked for a while then I was told they were growing again

so the next step was to have multiple injections over months into the eye to try shrink them which I am still having today as they have flared up again I now have to wear glasses but I can never drive as my vision is that impaired.

Another thing I battle wth is diabetic neuropathy which Is where your nerves send misfired pain signals to your brain when nothing is actually wrong you feel shock like pains hot pins and needles aches and some feeling losswhich contributed to me losing my small left toe I had gotten a blister that I didnt know I had which turned into a foot ulcer got infected and ate its way down to my bones I then got na serious bone infection called ostemyelitis which eats away at your bones they tried a long course of iv antibiotics to get rid of it but it falled and the only way to stop me from losing my whole leg was to amputate the small toe I was terrified as I lay in hospital and the doctors came in to wheel me ito surgery next thing I knew I was waking back up in my ward and my foot was being unwrapped I was in shock seeing my little toe missing they put something called a vac seal on it which helped fill the giant hole I now had in my foot and healed it three times faster than without it because of my compromised immune system from the auto immune disease they think I have that hasnt been even named yet I struggled to heal fully allowing infection bac into the amputation site which meant round two but they were to tell me I was going to loose my whole leg and had two weeks until surgery so as I went home and tried to prepare one day post surgery checkin they told me we are just going to amputate the remaning joint I had a sigh of relief but it was still loosing more of my foot I have had a rough life health wise as there has always been something wrong I have had the worst luck possible so many long hospital trips and now being 27 I just want to be as healthy as possible and live the life I know I deserve after all this grief and I have learnt to appreciate even the smallest of things and especially all the people who never left me in all my struggles and mood swings I am forever grateful for them as I know I wouldnt be here without them although they tell me they understand what im going through they couldnt possibly but I hate that ive had to go through all this and more I hate more the people I love have had to watch me gp through this amd I am usually a happy bright bubbly person but I mean I have my bad days where im depressed and wished all these afflictions didnt plague me everyday and it is also hard as I cant just forget I have these things as they impair everything I do I cant just turn around and be like I dont feel like being type 1 diabetic for a day as I would face horrible repurccusions .

In all this hardship I know there is people suffering out there more than I am I just wish I didnt have to fight everyday with all of this and fight to keep my life I want to just live it and be happy and I know I will get there I will never give up no matter how bloody hard this is or will get but I just wnted to tell a small portion of what I have gone through in my life in the hopes it may inspire of help somebody suffering with anny of these issues and yes depression is a hard thing to overcome but there are always things to help I find art and writing in a journal helps and venting all it takes is that one special person to listen and have your back if anybody reading this wants to chat I will always lend a ear to you so dont be afraid I may look odd and be odd but I am friendly and have a massive heart thank you for reading.

[langernameohnebedeutung]

suzuwarahikaru replied to your post “what happens at 5 am?”

where is the essay, OP!?

@suzuwarahikaru​ Honestly, it’s drivel and I didn’t feel like it particularly went anywhere and it was just me monologuing about one aspect of a bigger question so that’s why I didn’t post it. But ok, just for some context: You probably know how the MCU was often criticised for having “bland one off villains” and that’s true especially in their early films - and that was time when Heath Ledger’s Joker loomed very large and Ian McKellen was famous for his performance of Magneto and the idea for a Magneto solo film had just been scrapped in favour of XM First Class. At that point apparently the MCU guys walked up with the demand that Thor 1 only has to give them 1 thing: A villain as good as Magneto which they could use in Avengers. Now, obviously it had to be Loki, because Loki is Thor’s most famous antagonist and he was the first guy the Avengers ever fought in the comics, and Loki in Thor 1 is satisfyingly complex - but now that Loki’s dead and has a solo show coming out in a while, people dug up that old quote and started arguing about whether Loki actually became a villain “as good as Magneto” - which I honestly wouldn’t care about, except this argument spilled a few  “But Loki is great and Magneto is boring”-posts into the Magneto tag a while ago (which mixes with a lot of: Why did Cherik get a happy end but Stucky didn’t that’s so unfair!!!! posts) and then some comments started lowkey implying that Loki is a character who’s more attractive to sophisticated fans and that Magneto fans are usually men and Loki fans women (with the not so subtle implication being that Magneto fans are comic dude bros who like him for his cool powers and because he’s a Bad Guy(TM) I don’t really care about that, but over the course of this argument someone made a rather interesting post, wondering about what “went wrong” with Loki and while I love Loki as a character and as a villain, it made me ponder what could have been done to make Loki (even) better and to help him stand on his own 2 feet as a character and this was their post:

Now and this was going to be my response: Personally, I don’t think that having spectacular powers or anything make a villain good (they make good visuals though) but whether the hero learns something from fighting them, whether their motivation maybe reflects something that we experience as well and that maybe they unmask something that we usually don’t feel comfortable to address. And Loki has all these qualities.

I’m not going to try to objectively pinpoint where it ‘went wrong’ but it’s actually interesting to look at the XMCU and the MCU and to compare notes. The XMCU is often criticised for being too wordy, too slow-paced and “what’s with the constant time jumps and decade-hopping?” But I think that’s something the Thor franchise could actually have profited from, because…these guys are immortals and it just feels rushed in my opinion to watch their world fall apart in what is for them a matter of a long weekend. 

For example, a bigger distance between the events of Thor 1 and Avengers would have lent more weight to Loki’s disappearance and Thanos torturing and brainwashing him, Thor’s and Jane’s relationship would have been given more time to develop (making their reunion in Thor 2 more meaningful). They could also have given her more time exploring Asgard/battling the Ether. We could have learnt more about the Dark Elves, the Frost Giants, the Nine Realms in general. 

And that’s at least part of the problem, in my opinion: We don’t know enough about Asgard. You can’t just throw in an alien word without world-building and you can’t introduce characters who are millennia old by showing us 6 years of their lives and maybe 1 flashback. There is a reason why a show like Good Omens spent basically an entire episode on Crowley and Aziraphale’s lives through the millennia. Captain America got a film set in the WW2, Wolverine Origins covers over a century of Logan’s story. Magneto isn’t a better (or worse) villain than Loki, because as you said, the writing makes the character and both get pretty good and pretty bad writing at times. But a big difference is: We know a lot more about Magneto than we know about Loki. 

One example of this is personal relationships. Something I never realised before I started typing this is how little space Loki is given to let him form/have/maintain/test/strengthen meaningful relationships. 

Basically, all his meaningful interactions are inside his family. Magneto (to be clear, I’m bringing up so often bc the MCU apparently insisted on being rude af and asking Kenneth Branagh on drawing inspiration from a character who’s basically the opposite of Loki in every regard) gets a lot more screen time to develop his relationships with other characters, even if it means less CGI action scenes. 

In fact, I’m currently tempted to find out how many 1 on 1 dialogue scenes Loki gets per hour of film vs. how many Magneto gets. Loki enters the picture with a family, ‘friends’, a biological father, servants, an entire kingdom of people who know him, but he barely gets to have any meaningful interactions outside of his family environment. Seeing him interact with a friend or even someone who hates him for reasons unrelated to his relationship with Thor or someone who supports him would in turn show us a lot about how he sees other people, how he sees himself, how he treats them, what he values in a person, what kind of people trusts (if he trusts) – that’s a lot of potential that was left pretty much wasted in my opinion. 

One of the first things Agent of Asgard did was add Verity Willis to its main-cast so have a character for Loki to interact with, to serve as a moral anchor, and to call him out on his bullshit. Having relationships is powerful. In the MCU, Loki’s relationship with his mother is such an important, humanising element to his character. Also a lot of headcanons and metas and thoughts about Loki are inspired by those few scenes where we see him interact with the Warrior’s Three and Sif before Loki finds out about his parentage. 

And even when encounters the Avengers, they meet once, they talk once, then Loki he returns to Asgard and they never meet again, except Bruce - and even then there’s barely any time to talk about what happened in Avengers 1. He doesn’t get to form any meaningful relationships with his adversaries when he talks to them in Av1, these scenes just exist to present the Avengers in a certain light. And in the end it’s canonised that Loki was brainwashed so it’s all pointless anyway. (pls (don’t) make me write an essay on agency and the MCU, because honestly, between Bucky, Gamora, Nebula, Loki and everyone else was brainwashed it’s actually worth a conversation)

Even in Thor 1 Loki never meets Jane or Darcy, one of the main-characters. And we never see a single frost giant after the first film. Erik Solveig is the only Earth character from Thor 1 Loki actually meets and he’s brainwashed for most of that and in Thor 2, they don’t get to meet again. 

Imagine if Loki had had someone he trusted in Thor 1 and told them about finding out he’s a Frost Giant and they reject him and treat him like a monster. This could be three or four scenes that don’t throw off the film but would have been very powerful. Or imagine if Loki keeps his heritage a secret from that friend/trusted person and they find out in Thor 2 and confront him about it. Valkyrie and Loki never talk about him invading her mind or the things he saw. 

We never get to see him alone on Sakaar to deal with what he presumes is the end of his home world and the death of everyone he knows and we never see him interact ‘win the Grandmaster’s trust’. 

We never see him interact with the Hulk before they’re suddenly fighting side by side in Infinity War. We never find out exactly what the Aesir’s sentiments towards him are, what kind of prince he was in the past, how present he is in public, what reputation he has beyond silver-tongue mischief guy and which specific events shaped it.

If the MCU wants a villain “as good as Magneto” (which is already annoying bc they imply that Loki is not as good a villain which is such a subjective measure – Magneto done wrong is a horrible and downright offensive villain and trickster characters done right are amazing for revealing the flaws of a hero.*) then they have to give writers and actors the same means to do that with. The X-Men franchise, for all it flaws, always gave Magneto screen-time (so much that people criticised it). 

There’s a Charles-and-Erik dialogue in pretty much every film, allowing us to follow the state of their eternal argument at every step. We see his friendship with Mystique grow and fall, we see Wolverine call him out on his bullshit, his attempt to make young Hank and Mystique feel better about their visible mutations, we know how he treats his followers, his new recruits, his enemies, his students, his wife and his daughter, (daughters, if we count The Gifted and his legacy), his colleagues, his lovers, his ex-lovers, allies and former allies, politicians, police, prison guards, Nazis, soldiers, insane Egyptian gods – and we get to learn his feelings and thoughts about all of these through personal interactions, decisions and gestures. And in turn we know how they feel about Magneto. What do we know about Loki’s feelings about people outside his family? How does he feel about Fandral? What are his thoughts on the Valkyrior? How did his views on Frost Giants change and when? Did he challenge them at all or did he just become cynical about them? 

As I said, Loki is a formidable villain but I think that he suffers from the same problem as many MCU characters: We hardly know them. Think about Natascha whose been part of the franchise since Iron Man 2 but we hardly know anything about her. How much do we know about the family Drax lost? Or about Wanda’s family? About Pepper’s private life? We hardly know anything about them and especially when characters are thousands of years old and we know nothing about their past, it really creates a gaping hole in their biography and that really leads back to my original point: If we could spend more time with them, we would know them better and care more. One of the reason Dark Phoenix is a bit under-whelming is because we know very little about Jean and Scott in this time line. 

There are two DCEU films I actually own and watched more than once: Wonder Woman and Aqua Man. And while I personally didn’t find Aqua Man that good, this film actually tells us a lot about him and despite my lack of knowledge about the DCEU and me being a giant Marvel nerd, I preferred Wonder Woman over Captain Marvel and that is because I felt closer to her character. It really boils down to a “show don’t tell issue” and for me, that would mean: Maybe fewer giant CGI battles. more people living their lives. *(which should also highlight why setting Magneto as a mark for K.B. is so off-mark. Loki is about unmasking hypocrisy, Magneto himself is a hypocrite who regards himself as a hero but often does immoral things and that for example gets unmasked by Wolverine, another social outsider with littl care for social conventions)