#Scarab however is of course not and has nothing better to do

[floralstorms]

tehe I have. An au. For The Characters

[genshin-squabbles-and-wobbles]

I hope the anon doesn't mind me stealing that request but I would've really liked to see the same scenario with Alhaitham pretty please? Have a good day and take your time.

Yes my beloved dear @kristalheartishere, I shall. I am not sure if you want like a scenario format or headcanon format, but since the original post was in headcanon format, I will do it in that format. I hope that is okay!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───Alhaitham ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

The reason for your break up with Alhaitham is due to his emotional neglect, you were someone who desired to be close to him. You want to connect with him, but him lacking the skin combined with him being stubborn about it, just was a strain for a long time.

Alhaitham was logical and rational but a relationship is abstract, he didn’t entirely understand how to nurture a romantic connection.

If he did something wrong, he will apologize, but nothing more.

If you wanted something, he would do it, nothing more.

Initiation is rare for him sometimes, as if he barely had needs in the relationship at all. Sometimes it would feel like he isn't apart of it.

The was a strain, making you feel unwanted, despite his mediocre reassurance, it wasn’t enough for you to feel close to him. Thus, you broke it off from him.

It didn’t even make a difference, of course you'd miss his touch and his alhaithamussy and the good moments, but the lack of connection outweighs that.

It has been about 5 years since then, you were in the desert collecting Scarab with your little girl. She had your face, but Al Haitham hair and unforgiving her intelligence.

However, your little girl loved exploring, she was always curious, no matter what situation came, she always seem to figure it out.

You were so proud of her, she was always so happy when you praise her for her intelligence and curiosity.

You were carrying a basket as you didn't go far in the desert, but just enough to catch Scarabs. The basket was almost full, as your little girl was looking in perfect environment for these brown beetles she is obsessed with now.

"Sweeite, let's go, the sun is getting brutal out here and we should get back home and find a place to put these beetles." You smile with pride at your little girl as she comes running with yet another beetle. "A successful scavenge and find my little one." You smiled and held her hand as the basket was braced on another hip.

While walking in Sumeru, you were walking through town as your little girl dropped one of her beetles.

You chuckled and bend to pick it up for her, as another familiar hand touches yours, you immediately jolted back and stood up.

It was Alhaitham, he stood up and placed the beetle in your basket, and looked at you and your little girl who was behind you, occupied with her beetle.

"Is....is that...?" He was looking at her, Alhaitham clicked right away, and figured it out.

"Is she mine...?" He kept his eyes on your little girl. You signed and nodded at him. "Yes, she is about 5 years old now."

He immediately crouches down and looked at her. "Do you like that beetle?"

Your little girl nodded and smiled at him.

"Those beetles are called Scarabs, found in the desert and even underground, it's said that the desert king turned people into these." Alhaitham began teaching her immediately about the beetle, and she listened interested in her lectures.

Alhaitham looked at you. "May I...pick her up..?"

You nodded, as he gently picked her up and took a good look at her. When his daughter started to call the beetles Scarab just as he taught her to, that's when the little girl became his and proudly his. "Smart little one, aren't you?" He smiled without even realizing.

You sigh. "She has your attitude, so good luck if you want to be in her life."

"I don't see that as a bad thing." He smiled and moved his daughter's hair away from her face to have a better look at her. He noticed that his daughter also has a green diamond onto her chest.

"You should cut a hole on this, these irritate skin." He was already caring for her properly.

Alhaitham looked at you. "What are we going to do?"

You shrugged. "You can take her 3 days of week, can take her 3 to 4 days of week." You looked at him.

Alhaitham sighed, "I was hoping we can be some sort of Fam-"

You shook your head. "No, I never want what you put me through,"

Of course Alhaitham would figure out ways to convince you to be with him and be a family with him, his parents died, he wanted to give his little girl what he never had.

However, once he sees you are stern, he would back off. He would try at least to start small talk with you despite him hating it. But he wants to try and reconnect, but you refused no matter what. He had his chance.

Eventually he left it alone, and he would teach his daughter, new things, take her on adventures, he would work as she slept on him.

He would spoil her with things and her favorite snacks.

However, for you, you haven't spoken to him for years, as your daughter grew.

[the-iron-orchid]

Hand holds 37: not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

For Jissana :3

(a short fluff fill, I said and then almost 600 words later)

---

"I won't lie... sometimes I come down here just to let off steam. It's better than letting my magic get out to rattle all the windows or send small objects flying around, right?"

The Arcane Furnace in the basement of the Scarab and Lotus resembles nothing so much as a huge iron stove, its outer shell thick with inlaid sigils of various precious metals and stones. But instead of logs or other combustibles, within its belly lies a large cluster of glowing crystals. Each is at least the size of Jinana's own forearm, all of them dancing with a steady, synchronized pulse of shifting colors.

"It doesn't actually burn anything, of course - it collects and transforms magical energy, ambient or contributed, into something we can use to power the shop's systems. And if there is one thing I have in abundance... well." Jinana gives a wry little smile. "Do you want to experience the process? It's quite safe." S/he holds out hir right hand with a questioning lift of hir brows.

Vissenta knows a challenge when she hears one. She takes Jinana's hand without hesitation. "Let's see it!"

Jinana smiles. "Place your other hand on the outside of the Furnace... this may tingle a bit." S/he places hir own left hand upon the outer shell of the Arcane Furnace. As always, it feels warm, pulsing, alive.

A deep, slow breath, and s/he nudges that inner gate open, the one that holds back the churning Chaos of hir true being. Just a crack, just enough to let it begin to flow...

S/he hears Vissenta give a soft gasp, feeling that current pass by her, looping through her. All of the sigils on the outer shell trace themselves with heatless white fire; the inner bank of crystals glows more fiercely, then begins to coruscate with every color in the spectrum, and a few outside of it, more felt than seen.

The outflow of hir magic is a pleasant drawing sensation - not a sense of depletion, but of expansion, of letting go, water poured gently from an overfull cup. After a few seconds, Jinana closes that gateway again, the primal megaflow held in check by hir will alone.

Vissenta has seen this power, even felt it before; even so, her eyes are wide as she watches the Arcane Furnace assimilate what it has been fed, the wild, erratic fluctuations of color and light slowly becoming steady and harmonious once again. It is, however, perceptibly brighter than it was before.

“It’s beautiful,” she says.

“Kind of hypnotic, isn’t it? A non-magician would see nothing but white light; only we can see all of the colors that it puts out.”

“Ah, holding hands in the light of the Arcane Furnace… how romantic.” The new voice startles the two of them apart - Heron, descending into the basement with a crate propped on one hip. “It is very pretty, isn’t it?”

“I was just showing Vis how it lights up when I add my energy to it,” Jinana laughs, hoping that the blood in hir cheeks isn’t too obvious. 

“Of course,” he says, mildly as ever. “By the way, I do believe this is yours… both of yours. I found him scratching at the shop window.” Heron lifts his free hand, and a large and very familiar horned beetle takes flight, only to land on Jinana’s shoulder, fanning its antennae.

“Perhaps you should give him a name.”

[mournersrp]

𝐍𝐎  𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒,  𝐍𝐎  𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐒.  once  again,  thank  you  all  so  much  for  the  dedication  put  into  applying  here  at  mourners  ;  it’s  truly  been  a  pleasure  reading  all  of  your  applications  &.  i’m  tremendously  grateful.  turning  down  an  application  is  never  an  easy  process,  and  there  were  many  instances  in  which  i  wished  i  could  permit  a  duplicate  upon  the  dash.  with  that  said,  i’m  looking  forward  to  both  speaking  &.  plotting  with  each  of  you  tomorrow  (  bear  with  me  while  all  pages  &.  skeletons  are  properly  updated  )  —  welcome  to  mourners  !  please  review  our  checklist  and  report  to  the  barrel  boss  within  the  next  twenty - four  hours.

𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐉  𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐅𝐀

VENLI  !  choosing  an  inej  for  mourners  was  ...  a  feat,  as  each  applicant  displayed  an  exquisite  version  of  our  wraith,  but  what  swayed  me  in  the  end  was  the  balance  you  kept  between  who  she  was  while  with  the  dregs  &.  who  she  became  without  them.  the  details  surrounding  intricacies  of  her  newfound  crewmen  (  &.  her  family  post  their  reunion  )  in  which  helped  shape  the  woman  outside  the  barrel  were  lovely  to  read  (  her  thoughts  on  rilar,  in  particular,  were  both  authentic  &.  entertaining  )  ;  i  could  picture  the  scenes  in  earnest.  i  also  loved  the  mention  of  how  she  came  to  understand  kaz’s  own  vices  after  having  to  face  her  own  whilst  sailing  the  seas.  thank  you  for  taking  the  time  to  apply  —  i  look  forward  to  seeing  your  inej  in  play.

𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑  𝐅𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐘

NOAH  !  the  bit  about  kaz  disproving  jesper’s  exaggerated  stories  had  me  rolling,  and  your  headcanon  regarding  jesper  being  an  absolute  catastrophe  in  the  kitchen  (  gordon  ramsay  is  unamused  )  ?  you  wrote  it  best:  ‘  tall,  lanky,  restless,  distracted,  easily  bored.  ’.  incredibly  handsome,  but  certainly  cannot  focus  on  a  single  recipe.  on  a  serious  note  (  despite  the  consistent,  comical  little  tidbits  which  made  your  application  such  a  pleasure  to  read  ),  the  grasp  upon  his  character  you  presented  between  struggling  with  guilt  &.  penitence  was  flawless,  and  something  i  look  forward  to  seeing  explored  on  the  dash.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐀𝐒  𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐑

ABBY  !  there  was  so  much  i  loved  about  your  matthias,  but  i  especially  appreciated  how  you  incorporated  the  other  skeletons  into  interpersonal  plot  points  for  him.  the  attention  to  detail  within  matthias’  headspace  when  ruminating  over  them  was  absolutely  believable  to  his  character.  the  vast  detail  you  supplied  for  each  personality  trait  &.  headcanons  were  so  indicative  of  who  he’s  been  and  who  he’s  become  (  or  trying  so  desperately  to  be  ).  i’m  interested  to  see  his  reactions  to  henrik’s  next  moves  just  as  much  as  you,  and  where  our  drüskelle  will  stand,  then.  oh,  and  abby,  what’s  the  first  rule  about  fight  club  ?

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐀  𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐊

EMILY  !  ah,  yes,  nina,  our  waffle  queen.  her  past,  present  &.  sought  future  were  crafted  so  wonderfully  within  your  application  ;  i  particularly  loved  your  headcanon  dealing  with  her  time  as  a  heartrender,  where  nina  stubbornly  wished  to  understand  the  small  science  whilst  her  peers  were  occupied  with  morozov’s  manuals.  it  was  a  pleasure  to  be  able  to  read  her  thoughts  on  the  grisha  she’s  become,  the  label  of  corpsewitch  adhered  to  her,  the  burden  it  has  also  set  upon  her  as  ‘  self - appointed  grisha  guardian  angel  ’.  &.  i  do  hope  you  get  to  share  those  plot  ideas  with  some  of  our  fellow  grisha,  as  your  points  revolving  around  them  were  so  well  thought  out  and  executed.  also,  you’re  right  —  kaz  gets  way  too  into  the  costumes.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍

HARPER  !  i’m  ready  to  interact  with  felix.  it’s  no  wonder  kaz  made  him  a  deal  —  tragedy  maketh  man,  and  if  there’s  one  thing  dirtyhands  can  comprehend,  it’s  being  dealt  a  bad  hand.  i  love  the  idea  in  which  you  set  forth  that  he’s  lived  his  life  in  such  silence,  that  there  are  those  who  have  known  him  for  several  years,  but  haven’t  heard  even  a  whisper  slip  from  his  tongue.  the  way  you  transitioned  felix’s  headcanons  into  the  pivotal  moments  of  his  life  made  it  a  blast  to  read  through  (  especially  during  the  deal,  where  we  got  a  good  look  at  the  first  devil  in  his  life  —  do  old  habits  die  hard,  in  the  end  ?  ).  once  again,  welcome  to  mourners  (  i  foresee  much  plotting  in  our  future  ).

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

ALEX  !  we  do  love  a  good  destroyer,  and  marlaina  is  no  exception.  she  knows  her  power  &.  is  not  afraid  to  unleash  it,  a  trait  that,  while  prized  within  the  dregs,  can  also  become  a  nightmare.  after  all,  control  &.  patience  can  be  key.  the  idea  that  she’s  particularly  skilled  at  cards  (  as  well  as  banned  from  most  gambling  halls  )  was  a  fresh  addition  to  the  skeleton,  as  i  quite  love  the  idea  of  our  hellish  heartrender  pushing  her  luck  at  the  crow’s  club  (  when  has  that  ever  ended  badly  ?  ).  i  agree  it’d  be  an  interesting  concept  to  see  her  have  another  grisha  under  her  wing,  especially  when  she  herself  is  always  so  keen  to  detonate  —  her  desertion,  however,  will  surely  catch  up  with  her  soon.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑

MARGOT  !  you  have  spun  the  impostor  into  an  entirely  new  medium,  and  produced  a  character  that  went  beyond  the  skeleton  provided.  ‘  prison  changed  you.  for  the  better.  you’re  more  fun  now,  sociable  and  loud,  like  a  cannon,  truly.  so  loud  everybody  jumps  when  you  burst  into  a  room.  ’  one  of  the  first  few  lines  in  your  application,  but  what  immediately  captured  my  attention  and  had  me  buckle  in.  i  never  considered  that  the  target  in  which  damned  the  impostor  to  the  depths  of  hellgate  could  be  family,  but  now  i’d  not  have  it  any  other  way.  aris  is  a  world  class  actor  &.  i  cannot  wait  to  help  you  set  the  stage  (  &.  maybe  watch  it  burn  in  the  process  ).

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓

HENRY  JUDE  !  i  wasn’t  sure  if  there’d  be  a  lieutenant  at  the  start  of  mourners,  so  i  was  absolutely  thrilled  when  receiving  your  application.  an  important  player  with  a  plethora  of  potential  directions  in  which  they  could  shift,  and  i  can’t  wait  to  see  if  jozef's  includes  the  checkmate.  the  craftsmanship  in  your  design  for  him  was  extraordinarily  executed  and  quite  poetic  ;  he  was  absolute  pleasure  to  study.  i  look  forward  to  plotting  with  you  as  well  as  discussing  the  similarities  between  our  broken,  disastrous  muses  (  also,  i  can’t  believe  we’re  both  aleksander  morozova  apologists  ).

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐑

ARACELIA  !  i’m  in  love  with  anya.  you  put  so  much  adoration  into  her  creation  &.  i  cannot  wait  to  see  it  bleed  onto  the  dash  (  you  make  it  so  hard  to  loathe  a  traitor  ).  her  personality  is  so  believably  balanced,  and  more  than  what  my  own  ideas  surrounding  the  role  initially  included.  the  birth  of  a  monster,  the  birth  of  a  tailor  &.  the  birth  of  an  illusionist  were  impeccably  composed  stories  which  sewed  her  into  existence.  you’ve  forged  a  character  who  is  the  definition  of  ‘  so  much  more  than  meets  the  eye  ’  &.  i  am  thrilled  to  have  gotten  the  first  look  at  our  scarab  queen.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐑  |  EM  !  i  absolutely  love  the  concept  of  aleni  (  as  kaz  would  say:  she’s  a  particularly  good  investment  ).  with  grisha  within  his  crew,  what  better  for  an  amplifier  to  do  ?  i  was  wondering  if  i’d  see  an  application  involving  ketterdam’s  university,  and  was  immediately  thrilled  when  seeing  it  pulled  into  aleni’s  history.  the  idea  that  she  loved  ketterdam  in  any  capacity  is  not  something  you  tend  to  hear  (  it  died  quickly,  of  course  ),  which  was  a  unique  mention  within  your  wildcard.  &.  we  will  definitely  have  to  discuss  aleni  mistakenly  having  amplified  the  inferni  at  fifth  harbour,  as  i  believe  you’ve  proposed  an  excellent  idea.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑  //  𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀  𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑  |  IRIS  !  to  be  introduced  to  valdis  by  way  of  your  character  summary  was  a  treat.  i  absolutely  loved  the  way  it  was  written,  and  immediately  knew  why  she’d  made  it  into  the  dregs  (  truly  obsessed  with  her  being  the  daughter  of  a  pirate  captain  ).  though  she  managed  to  escape  her  original  work  with  braam,  it  seems,  for  a  time,  she  had  let  history  repeat  itself,  but  with  perhaps  a  better  boss  than  originally  at  the  helm.  &.  with  a  new  debt  paid,  how  fast  till  old  loyalty  dies  ?  

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑  //  𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑  |  REE  !  it’s  all  in  the  bones.  a  fjerdan  fleeing  for  discovering  themselves  grisha  is  always  something  i’ve  wanted  to  see  explored,  and  now  i  have  a  front  row  seat.  to  be  ostracized  by  their  own  &.  then  by  a  place  of  presumed  sanctuary  can  induce  a  particular  psychosis  within  the  most  stable  of  individuals,  and  we  do  love  sigyn’s  particular  brand  of  crazy.  you’ve  provided  an  entirely  fresh  take  on  what  is  known  of  a  grisha  healer,  and  how  such  gifts  may  be  construed  when  mixed  with  the  beliefs  of  fjerda.  thank  you  for  delivering  such  a  spellbinding  character  to  mourners.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓  𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋  |  ALI  !  with  a  vast  cast  of  varying  characters,  i  was  thrilled  to  see  that  senna  originally  came  from  wealth  (  it’s  a  different  path  to  weave,  one  that  usually  draws  more  enemies  than  friends  ).  your  application  was  so  appreciated,  providing  a  role  in  which  started  from  the  top  &.  careened  to  the  bottom  (  i  do  hope  to  see  senna  &.  wylan  swap  stories,  especially  where  senna  has  made  strides  to  escape  the  tread  of  their  father  ).  you  call  it  their  grand  adventure,  and  in  all  its  sinister  glory,  it’s  only  just  begun.  welcome  to  mourners  ;  let’s  plot  some  blackmail.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑  //  𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀  𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑  |  NINA  !  both  applications  for  our  resident  tidemaker  spun  tales  which  were  a  pleasure  to  traverse,  and  i  would  have  loved  to  have  both  turning  the  tides  for  the  dregs.  manu  belongs  in  a  novel,  with  all  the  devotion  you’ve  clearly  put  into  him.  &.  i  am  ecstatic  to  at  least  have  him  for  mourners’  chapters.  when  you  wrote  ‘  for  the  wanderer  was  nothing  if  not  a  mismatched  family,  made  with  kerch  purple,  fjerdan  ice,  kaelish  fire,  zemeni  courage  and  ravkan  boldness  ’,  i  found  myself  able  to  refer  to  it  whilst  reading  through  the  life  authored  for  him,  able  to  pick  out  these  particular  qualities  on  his  way  to  the  barrel.  &.  hopefully,  he’ll  reach  the  surface  soon.

[elencelebrindal]

Heyy with your takes on female Cloths (I enjoyed reading them so much!), can I ask for your input on something on the opposite side? Surplices. Some are great for protection (not you Cheshire) but when I look at some I genuinely wonder just HOW whoever is inside is even able to move. Take Minos for example, how does he properly walk without hitting his legs at the “skirt”-ish part of his Surplice at every step? (1/2)

(2/2) Why are wings some sort of a standard at some point even if the “source” creature has nothing to do with flying, like Acheron or Alraune? Can the Spectres at least actually fly to compensate for the wings being so bulky and uncomfortable? If not, what's the point in having them in the first place? I have so many questions about the designs it’s not even funny.

(I put the second half of your ask here so I don’t need to make two separate posts)

I guess it’s time for me to write something about them, uh?  Brace yourself, this is another long post. 

My answer would be: their bodies adapt to the Surplice, so they can freely move around in it without being bothered by the ridiculousness of the thing. It is a bit of a stretch, but it’s either this, or the Surplice has like five thousands joints and moves accordingly to the body.  Which, honestly, seems way more unrealistic to me. Yes, I just said that their bodies adapting to the armor is more realistic than jointed pieces. Welcome to Saint Seiya!

The real world instances of, following your example of Minos, that “skirt” thing he has on his legs is very close to the combination faulds + tassets. Not quite the same thing, but close to it.

This, basically. Obviously, in real life these things are overlapped lames of metal that give the wearer a lot of mobility, and they are - generally - shorter that the ones we see on the Specters (in this case, Minos).

I’m saying this because on one hand those pieces of armor are supposed to grant mobility to the person wearing them, but on the other hand it’s clear that Saint Seiya doesn’t treat them with a realistic approach, so I generally believe that they can easily move around because their bodies adapt.  But even with that, it’s still pretty obvious that a Surplice has a great deal of mobility and flexibility. We do see a lot of the characters move in ways that should be impossible if the armor doesn’t accompany their movements enough. 

I don’t think this is well portrayed in Saint Seiya, and I totally understand it; this is an anime and a manga, not a movie that needs real people to walk in real armor. But, at the same time, it can have an explanation. I say can because this is just my explanation of it, it’s nothing even remotely official or - admittedly - of real importance.  I’m just a small blog writing these things, after all. 

What Minos has going on is a fantasy exaggeration of those things, at least as far as I can tell. The lower part of his cuirass could be based on faulds and tassets, but I have no way to know for sure.  I can only throw out some hypotheses based on what bits and pieces or armor knowledge I have. 

A bigger problem for this Surplice, rather than the hypothesized faulds and tassets combo, could actually be those big wings he as for pauldrons. They seem flexible enough, as they actually look jointed, but they are really in the way. Those could actually hinder his movements way more, at first glance, not so much with bending, but more with up and down arm movements. However, this is not something I will tackle, because Saint Seiya often shows how a lot of characters deal with those exaggerated fantasy pauldrons, and as unrealistic as some of their movements seems I have to give them a pass. There’s no way of explaining all of them in a realistic matter. This is a problem of a good deal of fantasy-style pauldron, though, real ones

Real ones are way less cumbersome and have a ton more mobility, they are made for the wearer to comfortably move their arms with them and to offer protection at the same time. The photo I’m showing you is just a replica I found while looking for good pictures, but it’s still close enough to how the thing works.  What Minos has could be functional, but it’s so exaggerated that I have a lot of doubts about it.  Still, I won’t hold it against the show/manga. Fantasy-style pauldrons, again, tend to be unrealistic for the sake of aesthetic. There’s nothing we can do about it.  A good representation of this piece of armor in fantasy setting can be found in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. At least, most of the armors are well designed. 

Since I’m here, let’s have a look at the other two Judges as well, and then I’ll tackle the second part of the ask. 

The design of the Garuda Surplice is something I can definitely judge a bit more well made in terms of mobility.  It has the same base pieces going on, but in this case the pauldrons look like pieces that can offer a good deal of mobility. Still, the way they attach to the Surplice is questionable, but in terms of shape we’re getting there.  Even the two horns are correct, since they’re facing outwards; you don’t want spikes or horns with the points facing inwards, that’s a shortcut to disaster and severe head injury. 

This is were mobility and flexibility peaked, when it comes to the big three. The combo faulds + tassets is not obnoxiously long, it gives protection without being a hindrance (yes, there are also instances of faulds and tassets with that shape, you can maybe understand why it was done at the time though), and the pauldrons look amazing. They look like they provide good mobility to the arms, and the way they attach to the Surplice is pretty correct. There’s space for Rhadamanthys to lift his arms, as you can see. Brilliant.  His boots don’t make a whole lot of sense, but... again, the body adapts to the Surplice, so there’s that to take into consideration. Maybe it’s tremendously painful to walk in some of those shoes, but for them it feels normal. 

However, back to Minos:

The TLC version of him is actually unable to move. There’s not a single excuse here, that thing restricts him movements. Period. The pauldrons look better, it seems like they can provide better arm mobility, but the lower part of his armor is literally a solid piece of metal. Maybe the side pieces can move, but he’s literally wearing a metal skirt there. I have no other words to describe it, it’s just bad. 

And now, onto the next part. 

Why does everybody have wings? Let’s go in order here, with all of them (I’m going to restrict myself to the anime, because otherwise I’ll stay here all night). 

Of course, the Judges are supposed to have wings. 

Garuda, griffin and wyvern all have wings. There’s nothing to say about them. 

Myu (who has really good armor, admittedly) is literally a butterfly. His wings are approved, and are not even that much of an hindrance. They’re not wings made of armor, and they seem incredibly delicate. He’s probably the most comfortable with his wings, honestly. 

I have to point out that the majority of the Specters with wings (not all of them, obviously) are Celestial Stars. But let’s not lose ourselves.

Charon having wings doesn’t make sense, but I don’t know if those could be called wings. I’ve always thought them to be a nod to those traditional Venetian masks, much like the design of his Surplice. 

Specifically, the Jester masks, with pointy fabric and bells coming from them. To me the inspiration seems pretty obvious. Maybe those wings could represent them a bit more symbolically, or maybe I’m looking way too much into character design and they’re literally just aesthetic.  If you want some explanation of why he has wings, though, here’s mine. I find it kinda weird that Charon is not even from Venice, in the show, but... what can we do about it. A gondola is a gondola, after all. 

The Balrog Surplice having wings is... ahem, questionable. I’m sure that if there’s any Tolkien fan reading this, they know what’s up. They know the debate going on in the community. Long story short, we have no idea if the Balrogs have wings or not. The movie depicts the goddamn Valarauka with wings, the books don’t describe them all that much.  Let’s try not to look too much into it, okay? He has wings, it could both make sense or not make sense. This is Schroedinger all over again, just weirder. 

He kinda makes sense, though those wings are tiny. They resemble the kind of wings Ancient Egyptian used, for example, for the winged scarab, Maat, and Isis. 

Since his Surplice is based on a Egyptian theme, and Pharaoh himself is Egyptian, they have a pretty self-explanatory reason of existence. 

And now we come to what to presented to my attention, the Alraune (aka the Mandrake) Surplice.  Those, my dear anon, are not wings. Those are either petals or leaves of the mandrake, not only a plant birthed from the mind of ancient authors or questionable fantasy writers, but also a real life plant. That has flowers like these:

It’s a similar shape, eh? This led me to believe that the Surplice worn by Queen has this as a main inspiration, opposite to the one worn by Fyodor in TLC, something that’s visibly based on the fantasy approach to the plant.  What I’m trying to say here is that yes, it makes sense for this Surplice to have “wings”, because they’re not wings. They’re something that links the Surplice to its probable inspiration.  I’m going off of visuals here, so don’t assume I’m correct. 

Shilfield here doesn’t make much sense with wings, right? After all, his Surplice is based off the basilisk, a giant venemous snake with eyes capable to instantly kill.  Well... technically yes. But:

This is the cockatrice.  A basilisk is born from an egg lais by a rooster and incubated by a toad, but it’s said that a cock egg (an egg with no yolk, as such it was believed to be laid by roosters) would hatch as a cockatrice.  Basilisk and cockatrice became synonyms when the De proprietatibus rerum, which featured a basilisk in it, was translated, and the basilisk changed to a cockatrice.  If the Basilisk Surplice counts both as a basilisk and a cockatrice, then there’s your explanation of why the armor has wings. Because the cockatrice has wings. 

The Harpy Surplice is self-explanatory. It has wings because harpies have wings, plain and simple. The shape of the wings resembles a heart because of Valentine’s inspiration, but the weirdness ends there. 

As honorable mentions, we have:

The Bennu Surplice, with another good reason to have wings: Bennu is an Ancient Egyptian deity in the form of a bird, probably the origin of the Greek phoenix myth. 

If I recall correctly, his armor is based on Lucifer, who we all know is a fallen angel who probably had a ton of wings, given what angels looks like.  So, even if this is Hades, wings have total sense on his armor thanks to the inspiration behind it.  Also, his armor looks like a 4/10 for practicality and mobility. You’re better than this, Hades. 

This was VERY long, I know. But I hope I answered your question as thoroughly as I could.  Thank your for reading by kilometric essay, and see you next post. 

[that-random-chaos-entity]

Nehetari stood opposite this... ..."wolfish" human, regarding him and his extended hand. Then she grasped it firmly. In an old life, the grip in that hand could have crushed her arm like the thresher beetles used to crush the reeds along the Great Oasis. But so could Perturabo's, so she did not feel uneasy. If she even WOULD have felt uneasy.

But when she looked up to meet his gaze, his expression could not have been more different from the Iron titan that she had grown so close to. This "Leman Russ's" face was alight with the fire of excitement. Excitement, and they joy of one who feels they have found a true kindred spirit in the most unlikely of places.

"My history has earned respect from you." Nehetari stated. An observation, quivering on the edge of a question.

"'Tis only a REAL king who will down a keg and throw hands with their people, then be willin teh lead 'em inta battle from the front next day."

"One would think that a necessity for leading any group of individuals effectively."

"Ye'd be surprised. It's not a real common thing in the galaxy nowadays," the wolf-human mused. Then his expression turned serious, and the Mehlrose felt the twinge of psychic scrutiny brush along her psyche. Light as a feather, or more like the long hairs on the hide of some animal.

"If yer willin teh dance on a table drunk with every man, woman, and child, whether it be in a banquet or a roadside tavern, walk through teh maw of Morkai himself, an ice storm or one of yer rough lookin' deserts, to save an old, hobbled raisin of yer people, just because he's yer people... ...If these tales be true, if yer people's planet was as ye say, if ye have truly suffered as much as ye say, yet yeh can still feel such joy; such FIRE as I see in your eyes... ...well, I must admit, I respect teh cut of yer claws, xenos."

The cut of her... ...Nehetari removed her hand from the clasped-arm-goodwill-gesture and examined her claws carefully for a moment; an action that caused the large, furry beast of a human to let out a deep belly laugh, and turned Perturabo's obviously jealous glare into a eye-roll so intense it looked as if his eyes might abandon his skull entirely.

An outpouring of noise drew all eyes back to the black crystal's display. Two Necrontyr now stood atop the sandstone-like platform; their identical forms and features making it seem as if one was dancing with a full-body mirror. They swirled and stamped and belted out songs in Necrontyr, punctuated every once in a while by a swig from one of the great brown gourd-like containers at their sides. Rhythmic cheers enhanced their steps and arm movements, and Nehetari herself could be seen, looking about the same in the vid as she looked now, clapping in rhythm. She daintily kept time with her hands and was SMILING. Laughing even, when one of the two twin warriors accidentally planted his foot into her plate of food and slipped, narrowly missing landing on her as he tumbled. There was a DEAFENING silence, before the thin bell of her laughter caused a ripple of mirth to hesitantly start, then sweep the hall like a gale. The dancing continued, and more feet began to strike the ground as the drink took hold, and others joined in.

However, before too long, a series of other sounds could be heard; rhythmic metal taps exactly in time to the music, but they did not seem to be coming from the display. They turned to see two of her guard doing the same dance. Metal though they were, corrupted by the flayer virus though they were, their build and features were unmistakable. They were a perfect copy of eachother, and both Leman and Perturabo knew at once that, at one time, these were the same two displayed from the crystal.

"So then those are Kefi and Sefi?" Perturabo said, gesturing to the two fools in the vid, apologizing profusely and near falling over, so hard were trying to get some sort of mashed root vegetable off the one's bare feet. "THAT'S what they used to look like?"

"Kefi and Sefi, is it?" Leman moved from Nehetari's right flank to approach the still-dancing necrons. They detected his advent and stopped, giving a hiss of alarm and diving, but too late as the massive human swept them up into a headlock, laughing. "Aw, C'MON ye boney lot! I like yer style! I'd almost say I'd like to share a drink with ye, if yeh could still drink. It's good to see at least some xenos know how teh have some REAL fun!"

Perturabo was too beside himself to feel irritated at his brother's antics, or relieved that he was no longer holding onto Nehetari's shoulder. Leman. His brother LEMAN, was playing around with two NECRONS. FLAYED ONES no less. Was he that lonely without his sons? Desperate enough to pal around with xenos, just because they reminded him of his space wolves? With some amusement he watched as the two necrons squealed and scrabbled to get away, then seemingly became bemused and looked to Nehetari for approval; like baby animals to their mother.

Nehetari's face was neutral, but her eyes sparkled. She inclined her head in a silent, "Well go on then."

Two metallic heads turned to look at their assailant. And as one, they both spoke. It was in the most GRAVELLY of Necrontyr and thick with the flayer curse, but their translator scarabs intoned:

"Do you enjoy pharos scorpion honey mead?"

The Wolf King laughed so loud it rattled their carapaces.

"Well I don't know what 'pharos scorpion honey,' is, but I know mead and I LOVE IT!" He boomed, and just like that the tension was broken. They began to jabber at eachother about various drinks, about festivals and adventures of grandeur, and foods of exotic and mouth-watering nature.

Nehetari took the opportunity to slink over to where Perturabo stood. She did not speak; she knew he was upset with her, so she stood close and waited for him to give her a piece of his mind.

She did not wait long.

"I thought I told you to stay away from Russ.," he snarled.

Nehetari did not miss a beat. "You did. And I ignored you."

Perturabo whirled on her. "WHY!?"

"Because I must make my own conclusions."

"Tch! Of course, that's right. What I think be damned, you just can't stop yourself from making friends with everyone you can, can't you? Even when they've tormented me for most of my life."

"What better way to stop them tormenting you than to earn their respect, then use that respect to stop their abuse?"

Perturabo snorted. "Oh, is that your plan is it? What, do you think you're going to suddenly solve all my family issues by making friends with everyone?"

For a moment Perturabo thought he'd said the wrong thing, as Nehetari's neutral expression crumpled and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"No, your family is irreparable," she stated bluntly. "Also, your father disgusts me, your brother Mortarion disgusts me, your brother Alpharius confuses me, and your brother Rogal Dorn is boring. I have no desire to 'make friends' with them."

The Lord of Iron's next counter-argument died on his lips, and he couldn't help barking out a laugh.

"Fair enough I suppose. Wait, when did you meet Alpharius?"

"In the hallway. He bowed, said 'I am Alpharius,' shushed me, then vanished behind a painting."

"That's... ...concerning..." Perturabo muttered. "In any case, I don't want you getting chummy with my other brother's either. Nothing good can come of it."

Jealousy was all but dripping off that statement, but Nehetari did not comment on it. "Do not worry," she rubbed her head affectionately against his shoulder in a very cat-like manner, "I will not trade you for any of them."

"Quit it," The primarch growled, covering his face, but he did not move away. "...even Sanguinius?"

"Of course not. He smells like wet poultry. Also, despite what my father says, I'm certain he fancies him. He's certainly his 'type,' at least when it comes to-"

Perturabo's eyes flashed wide and he clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Do you want to fucking die!? You don't just say shit about Sanguinius!" But he couldn't help the faintest smile. At least he didn't have to feel jealous about ONE of his brothers.

...but still, the mental image of the Lanky Llama and Leman clasping arms made his gorge rise.

"Come, we are going back to the promethium forge," he growled with a finality that left no room for argument.

Nehetari nodded once. "As you wish." Then she followed him out of the hall.

The crystal, having been left behind in the rush, clattered to the floor, just before it was picked up by the Lord of Wolves.

[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (18)

Chapter 18: Altering It Further | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

A/N: Look it @berenilion another Vader chapter ;w;

Also tagging @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms @stellar-trinity @justtinfoley @peterwandaparker @calgasm @queen-destenie @ayamenimthiriel @calsponchoemporium​ @fallenjedii @cal-jestis​ @sweeetteaa​

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 – 15 – 16 | Previous: Part 17 | Next: Part 19 | Masterlist

18 of ?

A black, high pyramid tapering upwards marked the desolate, volcanic landfill that is Mustafar.

Jidné piloted the Scarab close to the transport shuttle’s tail, led by the Sixth Sister in her specialized TIE Fighter.

Jidné didn’t even realize that she’s held her breath even after getting through the atmosphere, the turbulence on her end was light, but the eeriness of the landscape captivated and frightened her at the same time—concentrating all her attention to the castle sitting by the edge of the black plateau. A single stream of glowing, red-hot lava resembling a waterfall accentuated the structure’s ominousness.

All three ships occupied the open hangar, albeit being a wide space. Jidné alights the Scarab and joins Cal’s side while he’s held by one Stormtrooper in the other.

Subtly using the Force, Jidné curled her fingers and willed the hool of Cal’s poncho to rise and cover his head. She was careful enough to make it go unnoticed by the Stormtrooper, but of course, it took Cal by surprise to feel his hood suddenly moving on its own. He turned his head to the only possible culprit—though she still didn’t look back to him, she couldn’t.

“The hot air here’s gonna make your head feel like it’s scorching,” Jidné mumbled through her cowl with the coil covering the bottom half of her face. She bobbed her head closer so her voice is still within the redhead’s earshot, making her more audible over the sound of the geysers spewing the said hot air.

Not once did she turn her head to face him as she spoke.

There was no response from him. She isn’t expecting one anyway. Understandably so, she immediately put herself in the mindset that Cal was furious with her. Though, he himself seems to contradict. His gentle surprise caused his eyes to remain on her, studying her feature and expression—the languidness on her face gave off the illusion that her laughter was a thing of the past, her dejected eyes slowly blinking and her head panning by the inch as she surveyed the castle and the landscape around it.

Cal, Jidné, and the rest of the Stormtroopers followed the Sixth Sister to the main door unprompted.

“Inform Lord Vader that we have the boy and that the bounty hunter is with us,” the Sixth Sister commanded the scout trooper manning the terminal.

“Copy!”

The scout trooper presses the button and spoke through the microphone head, relaying the exact words of the Sixth Sister. The door rumbled open seconds after the scout trooper concludes his announcement and they continued to follow.

The outside of the castle was one thing, but the inside was another story. Something about the interior made Cal and Jidné’s skins crawl—an alien feeling that they can’t describe, but somehow know of.

The Dark side of the Force.

The Sixth Sister has led them to the receiving chamber where Darth Vader meets those who wish to see him; on one side, there was a large rectangular slit on the wall facing the volcanic view outside, and in the other, was the door connecting the foyer and Darth Vader’s chamber.

All of them waited there. Even Jidné and Cal can feel the red Twi’lek tensing up.

The heavy creaking of the door caused everyone in the foyer to turn away from the window, smoke was spilling through once it went ajar, from a thin slit to a gradually gaping space until it revealed the tall figure, darker than the obsidian on which his fortress stands.

There mere sight of him shook the two young Jedi to their very cores. The monotonous breathing that filed the room has pierced its way to the hearts of everyone present and made their stomachs sink as if anchors had been tethered to them. The cool, poised façade of the Sixth Sister seemed to ebb, both Cal and Jidné sensed it, but the feeling’s mutual.

Darth Vader acknowledges the Inquisitor, Jidné—who he still believes to be a bounty hunter—and the prize in question, the Jedi boy Cal. He marched along the narrow bridge connecting the door and the foyer. As per custom, the Sixth Sister lowered herself to her knees as the dark lord approaches them. The closer he got, the more profuse the trembling became for the two young Jedi; only then did both of them truly have processed just how lumbering Vader was in size and the authority he imposed in his every step, in the slightest tilts of his helmet, and the blood-red glint of his mask’s eye sockets.

“My lord,” greets the Inquisitor.

“Rise,” he lowed rather disinterestedly. A slow sideways wave of his hand and the Twi’lek was quick to obey.

The Sixth Sister stepped aside to present the Jedi boy and the bounty hunter by his side. The Sith Lord stepped closer, Jidné’s elbows buckled closer to her sides while Cal’s already-clenched fists closed even tighter. As much as they wanted to avert their eyes to spare themselves from the terrifying sight of his mask, they couldn’t. In the end, they had to roll their eyes up in order to look at him in the eye, or at least through the pair of convex bumps that gleaned red when the light hits.

“Well done, Jidné,” Vader hummed.

Vader gestures at one of his personal bodyguards in that foyer—a Shadowtrooper: their armor was a glossy, jet black, perfectly blending in with the background whilst having a cloaking device that will mask their entire person. The Shadowtrooper approached one side of the room and what sounded like the latch of a trunk opening, he produced a storage canister—same as the one Jidné received for her upfront payment—he then activated a podium that erected from the floor at the touch of a button of his gauntlet for him to settle the container down. Performing a series of button patterns, he set off the lock to reveal that only a half filled the inside.

“That could only cover my fee, not the bounty price,” Jidné pointed out, maintaining character.

“Were you expecting a thicker stack? Or a second canister?”

“You don’t hear me complaining, m’lord,” Jidné blurted. “I was just stating the obvious.”

“Do not concern yourself over something that’s been considered done and covered. After all, you have accomplished what my two Inquisitors failed to do,”

She didn’t respond to the commendation, though Vader perceived her head hung low as she drew a heave of breath as a reaction. He then turns to the boy. The tension at Nur ran fresh in both of their minds—however, Vader was fueled by his recollection of the entire inconvenience that transpired in that stronghold.

Cal gets himself hauled forward to Vader, the Stormtrooper struggles to push the boy towards the large, lumbering figure that is the dark lord of the Sith.

For once, the dark lord has the opportunity to examine Cal without any lightsabers clashing angrily against one another. His blank, empty eyes stared right into the boy’s eyes—more alive than his could ever be—and Cal attempted to keep a brave face, despite repressing the shuddering that’s trying to break free from his body.

“Now, you will surrender the Holocron,”

In Cal’s mind, everything made better sense now. He turned to Jidné, and then to Vader. He managed a small smirk right in front of the dark lord.

“I don’t have it,” he muttered.

“Liar.”

Cal shakes his head whilst the smirk on his face grew.

“I really don’t,”

Vader’s head jerked to the girl, searching confirmation from her indifferent expression—he sensed that Jidné knew something as she continued to keep her head low and her eyes away.

“Then you’re hiding it somewhere,” insinuated the Sith lord. He looks at Jidné. “Tell me what he has done with the Holocron.”

Silence spoke on Jidné’s behalf. She rolled her eyes to Cal’s direction, avoiding Vader’s.

His short-lived patience is now spent. He hoisted his hand in level with Jidné’s neck, the air rumbled within the two Jedi’s radius, a heavy glom wrapped around them—Cal could feel its weight on him, but it was Jidné who had more of the receiving end.

She started to struggle in breathing, the gulps that she swallowed all lodged in the middle of her throat, the veins on her neck were pulsing as the muscles around it tightened. Jidné clutched her neck, hoping that rubbing it would make it go away—instead, she continued to gag, short breaths did not sate her lungs. Her eyes finally trailed up and found the root cause—Vader’s gloved hand is positioned into an open grapple directed in front of her. It didn’t take long for her to submit on her knees—in a moment, on one knee, and then the second in the next—her hand was still on her neck, clawing off a non-existent grasp asphyxiating her.

Darth Vader doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon… not until either of them talks.

“LET HER GO, SHE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!!!” Cal raised his voice against Vader, though that didn’t convince him and continued to strangle the girl.

Again, Cal took his voice to its peak, so much so that the words strained his chords, “THE HOLOCRON IS DESTROYED!!! I DESTROYED IT—NOW LET HER GO!!!”

The suffocating ripple of the Force coiled around her neck finally vanished into thin air. Jidné inhaled the deepest that her lungs could take—the biggest one she’s ever done in her entire life! She exhaled in coughs and fully collapses to the ground as she felt like her spine had turned into liquid. She breathed a few more time to reset her pattern before pulling herself back, little by little.

“Jidné…? Are you okay?”

It was a subtle nod that she did to reply to Cal. Her panicked heart still raced until she mentally willed it that she’s still alive and breathing.

“You…” Vader trailed off. “Destroyed it?”

“I’ve seen and remembered enough names when I opened that Holocron. If you kill me now, you will never get a single one of them!” Cal snarled.

Perhaps in a way to rub it in his face, Vader leaned closer to Cal until a mere inch of space divides the two of them.

Vader purred, proud of himself that he had outwitted the boy, “But I can get it out of you.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Jidné inquired, still trying to keep in character.

“That is not of your concern. You should concern yourself more with the second half of the bargain,”

Darth Vader promised the second payment to Jidné if she stays until Cal is brought to the torture chamber. The simple mention of that word made Cal’s heart beat twice at a time. He has only seen the machine when inactive in real life, he’s seen it at work but only in his Force vision of Trilla’s memory—he could think of a hundred ways how it would feel if it was he himself strapped to the machine.

The Shadowtrooper adjusting the canister an inch forward was supposedly a prompt for Jidné to take the money, but she didn’t want to take it. Blood money, she thought. Seconds later, Vader notices her hesitation.

“Is there something else, child?” Vader inquired.

“N-No… my lord,”

“Then take it,”

She clenched her fist to eradicate the trembling. His invitation for the girl to take the money was a trick challenge he’s imposed—should the Sith lord notice the fumble in her hands, his suspicions would immediately be proven true.

Eventually, Jidné’s fingers wrapped around the handle and pulled it away from the podium. She still could not will herself to look at Cal in the eye, presuming that she had truly betrayed him—if only she could freeze time, she would’ve shouted it until her voice reaches the very foundation of the building that she has fallen for him and that she doesn’t want to do this anymore.

Jidné slowly turns around, her back against everyone else, as she was dismissed by Vader himself so she can return to the hangar to hide away her bounty.

“I shall expect you in the torture chamber soon, Sheedra,”

That stopped Jidné in her tracks. Her grip around the handle tightened until her palms swelled. Ever so slightly, she bobbed her head to the side, one inch shy of showing her face over her shoulder.

“Understood.” She huskily replied, a dreary tone rasped as she spoke.

Eager to leave, she continued to walk away and succeeded in hiding the tears streaming down her cheeks as she takes every step.

[razieltwelve]

Can’t Even Be Mad

In MTG, I’m a much better constructed deck builder and player than I am a draft player although I’m trying to improve there. It probably comes from me putting in years into formats like Legacy and almost no time into draft.

Today, I had one of those games you can’t even be mad about when you lose. 

I drafted Zendikar, and I ended up on BW with a lot of party synergies. I was also rare-drafting (this is Arena), and I ended up with 9 rares during the drafting process, so I was already pretty happy with the results.

I ended up going 2-3, but with two of those losses coming due to brutal mana screw. It was the classic case of keeping a 4 lander with 3 great cards... and then drawing five more lands to just die followed by the good old keeping a 3 lander with great cards followed by never drawing another land and dying. This is after running 17 lands in a 40 card deck. Seriously, the shuffler hates me. 

The worst bit was that in both cases, I managed to play well enough to keep the games close before the flood/screw just got too much to deal with.

My third loss was probably the best game I played, though. I kept a hand with two plains and a swamp, along with my white removal and some black creatures. Since I was running 9 swamps, I was confident of drawing the second black source by turn four, which is when I would need it since I was also on the draw.

Cue no black source until turn seven.

Somehow, despite the opponent curving out like a god, I managed to scrap and claw and fight my way to a stalemate where we were staring each other down. I was on 1 life and they were on ten. Their board essentially meant that drawing any creature, burn, or pump spell would kill me. They had also been ramping like crazy, so they had 12 lands in play, meaning the odds of them whiffing were small. 

I still managed to drag the game out, bluffing, and just generally trying to act like I had a trick up my sleeve when I didn’t have anything. Unfortunately, they started attacking since they must have finally realised I had nothing. Since I was on 1, I couldn’t afford to attack back with anything since even a single creature getting through would be death, and their deck was some RG landfall, haste style deck.

I managed to draw a sweeper and swung, dropping them to 4 before blowing up the board, killing everything except my angel. It meant I had lethal on the next turn, and they absolutely had to draw a haste creature or a burn spell to win the game.

Of course, they drew it.

However, I wasn’t even mad about losing. I probably should have died at least half a dozen times, and even if I hadn’t blown up the board, the creature they drew would have given them lethal anyway on their turn since they would have had 1 more creature than I had blockers, not to mention some of their guys had trample. 

Anyway, I was happy about it because I spent 99% of that game just getting the absolute crap kicked out of me, and I was still able to force a situation where either they drew the right card or they died. It was the best game I played (the two I won were basically just slaughters where my deck curved out and the opponent folded). And although my deck only went 2-3, I firmly believe that if I hadn’t gotten mana screwed, the deck was good enough to go 5-3 or better.

Despite not always getting better results, I definitely feel like I’m improving in draft. My card choices are better. In the past, I’d often lose and feel like my deck was just bad, but in the more recent drafts, my deck has felt good, and I’ve mostly lost to mana screw or the good, old tactic of my opponent drafting absolute bombs and drawing them on curve. I doubt I’ll see improved results for a while, but it feels good drafting and ending up with a decent deck, even if sometimes the stars just don’t align.

P. S. Nothing will ever compare to how salty I was when I did a sealed draft for Amonkhet Remastered and ran up against a guy playing sultai who dropped, in consecutive turns, a Rhonas, a Scarab God, and then a Lord of Extinction. What are you even supposed to do against that? Not surprisingly, I didn’t win that match. It looked more like a constructed deck than something you’d play in draft...

[ansu-gurleht]

sermon ten, annotated

ok, i’m skipping some sermons. at some point, i’ll cover every sermon, including the ones i skipped, and i’ll have a masterpost for them. as for now, let’s talk about sermon ten.

You have discovered the tenth Sermon of Vivec, which was hidden in the words that came in the aftermath to the Hortator.

the lessons often have related series of sermons sprinkled throughout. this series, began in sermon six, takes the form of vivec advising nerevar.

The evoker shall raise his left hand empty and open, to indicate he needs no weapons of his own.

to evoke is to call forward, or summon - so the evoker summons forth his friends and foes. the evoker may also be one who seeks power, usually divine.

it’s very worth noting the inspiration that [writer-of-these-sermons-who-is-not-to-be-named] draws upon for a lot of the symbolism throughout is based on western occult practices of the 19th and 20th centuries. most notably, the ideas are heavily influenced by practices such as thelema. 

simply put, in these kinds of magical practices, the right hand is associated with positive qualities, whereas the left hand is associated with negative ones. the right hand is creation, purity; the left hand is destruction, chaos. 

in the context of this sermon being advice given by vivec to nerevar, it stands to reason the “evoker” refers to the hortator. with his “left hand empty and open” he shows “he needs no weapon of his own.” note, however, that in sermon seven, the egg vivec wrote GHARTOK PADHOME, the hand that wields change like a weapon, on both of his hands. hortator needs no weapon because his hands are his weapon; his hands are change, and that is enough.

The coming forth is always hidden, so the evoker is always invisible or, better, in the skin of his enemies.

the evoker calls forward, so “the coming forth” is done by those he summons. they will be hidden, but so will the evoker, either “invisible, or, better, in the skin of his enemies.” the latter is a reference to the legend of boethiah wearing trinimac’s skin to denounce the old ways and encourage the velothi movement.

'The eyelid of the kingdom shall fill thiry [sic] and six folios, but the eye shall read the world.'

the thirty and six folios are these lessons, of course. as for the eyelid and the eye, we will return to this later in this sermon.

By this the Hortator needs me to understand. The sword is an impatient signature. Write no contacts on the dead. Vivec says unto the Hortator remember the words of Boet-hi-ah:

the previous quote (’The eyelid of the kingdom....’) is what the hortator needs vivec in order to understand. another instance of vivec downplaying nerevar’s intelligence and agency.

the sword being “an impatient signature” means that violence can show your hand too quickly. have patience before making yourself known, and signing your signature upon the deeds. come forth with empty hands.

uesp usually adds [sic] when there’s a typo. as for the “contacts on the dead” line, i think there is also a typo. the only evidence i have for this is that “contracts on the dead” fits better with what i’m saying.

anyways, the point is that you put your signature on a contract. violence is an impatient signature, one that shows your hand too soon, so it’s likewise unwise to try to force the dead to comply with your demands. did i say unwise? i meant impossible, unless you’re a necromancer. 

if you’re patient, and hide your sword behind open hands, you may end up getting a better deal than defeating your enemies. maybe you find a way to “hold your friends close, enemies closer.” case in point, the chimer-dwemer alliance against the nords.

anyways, we’re primed for the next paragraph, which is “the words of Boet-hi-ah:”

We pledge ourselves to you, the Frame-maker, the Scarab: a world for us to love you in, a cloak of dirth [sic] to cherish.  

the “Frame-maker” and “Scarab” is lorkhan, who boethiah has always had a major crush on. boe claims that the true purpose of the mundus project was to elevate lorkhan via recursive reflection, worship that comes around on itself and self-amplifies. it’s not without its struggles, though: it’s “a cloak of dirt” after all.

Betrayed by your ancestors when you were not even looking. Hoary Magnus and his ventured opinions cannot sway the understated, a trick worthy of the always satisfied.

and those struggles ultimately derive from the other et’ada losing faith in him and his project. their lost faith became bitterness which became betrayal. when lorkhan was on the cusp of his greatest victory, “when [he was] not even looking,” he was turned upon viciously.

“hoary magnus” refers to the god of magic, who is also the sun. despite the betrayal of the vast majority of the et’ada, led by magnus and auri-el, magnus’s “ventured opinions cannot sway the understated,” meaning his mutiny didn’t convince the few who still clung fast to lorkhan’s vision. for those faithful, it was the best “trick” he could try to cast doubt on the mundus project - nothing short of such manipulation could have possibly swayed “the always satisfied,” those who are so sure of their ambitions that nothing could discourage them.

A short season of towers, a rundown absolution, and what is this, what is this but fire under your eyelid?

“a short season of towers” refers to the history of nirn. the towers are physical spires with metaphysical implications, things that hold up reality and its tenets (or those imposed by their architects and rulers) like tentpoles. 

absolution means forgiveness, but a “rundown absolution” is a forgiveness in a sad state, of very poor quality. lorkhan forgives his kin for their betrayal, but it is bitter forgiveness, for only lorkhan truly understands the scope of what was lost. “a short season of towers” could have been something much, much greater.

and, in case we didn’t already understand how boethiah feels about lorkhan, she tells us that even the majesty of what has been created is “but fire under your eyelid?”

but there’s more to this eyelid thing. remember that line i skipped over earlier?

'The eyelid of the kingdom shall fill thiry [sic] and six folios, but the eye shall read the world.'

the eyelid is what you see when your eyes are closed, when you are asleep. the sleeping may read these sermons, but they’re nothing “but fire under your eyelid” - to be awake, with your eyes open, you can read the world itself. note the sleeping/awake dichotomy, which should be familiar if you’ve played the main quest of morrowind, and discovered the sleeping, dreaming house dagoth.

Shift ye in your skin, I say to the Trinimac-eaters. Pitch your voices into the color of bruise. 

the “Trinimac-eaters” of course refers to boethiah and her faithful. the dunmer have not only distinct skin from their altmer cousins, but distinct accents as well (except in oblivion, but ... yeah). in morrowind they have the classic chain-smoker voice, and skyrim gives them sort of a scottish(?) accent. (i don’t know what eso does, forgive me.) “the color of bruise” refers to the blue-grey skin of the dunmer, so they “pitch [their] voices” into the same shade.

Divide ye like your enemies, in Houses, and lay your laws in set sequence from the center, again like the enemy Corners of the house of Troubles, and see yourself thence as timber, or mud-slats, or sheets of resin. Then do not divide, for yet is the stride of SITHISIT quicker than the rush of enemies, and He will sunder the whole for the sake of a shingle.

to become stronger, the chimer must divide into Houses, each a unique facet of velothi culture, each an important cog in the machine. they may be divided “like your enemies,” but these smaller units strengthen the whole, which vivec (or boethiah i guess) likens to the materials you build a house with. a house is built with timber and mud-slats, just as a House is built of its members; and because of these smaller strengths, chimer society as a whole is made stronger - the Houses become the timbers of a people.

SITHISIT, another name for padomay, primordial chaos and entropy, will ruin the strongest societies, and leave them vulnerable. so instead, cut up your society into manageable chunks, as Houses. the Houses are in conflict with one another, which strengthens them - and their collective strength becomes the strength of the nation. so at the cost of a unified culture, you “sunder the whole for the sake of a shingle.”

For we go different, and in thunder. SITHISIT is the start of all true Houses, built against statis [sic] and lazy slaves. Turn from your predilections, broken like false maps. Move and move like this. Quicken against false fathers, mothers left in corners weeping for glass and rain. Stasis asks merely for nothing, for itself, which is nothing, as you were in the eight everlasting imperfections.

through SITHISIT, the chimer are made different from the altmer. the Houses of the chimer are stronger than the clans of altmer, whose anuic bent prefers stasis, the absence of change - they are “lazy slaves” in deference to auri-el and his ilk. the chimer abandon these anuic “predilections, broken like false maps” - this adherence to stasis is a road leading to nowhere.

“move and move like this,” like fa-nuit-hen, the demiprince who taught the egg vivec in sermon one. the daedra are the ones who know the true path. the aedra are “false fathers,” parents who neglect their duty to allow their children to grow. the “mothers left in corners” might refer to the anticipations, who are almost always depicted as female (with a few occasional exceptions in boethiah). as for why they weep “for glass and rain,” i’m not sure.

stasis asks for nothing and itself, which boethiah says are the same. after all, stasis only holds as much value as it can be compared to. if all were static, nothing who hold any value at all. thus, it is empty. “the eight everlasting imperfections” are the eight divines (talos didn’t exist yet), who are the embodiments of stasis.

Vivec says unto the Hortator remember the words of Vivec.

okay, there’s a verse here where every other line is this line. so i’ll just quote the verse with all those cut out.

UNDERSTAND THAT SITHISIT STILL TRAVELS IN A PHOSPHORESCENT MIRROR OF THE SKY DROWNED AND SMILING  INTERMITTENT HOPES ENOUGH TO ANSWER ALL THE THINGS NOT YET QUERIED

“SITHISIT STILL TRAVELS,” a reminder that it is fleeting and always shifting. the “PHOSPHORESCENT MIRROR OF THE SKY” is the mundus, which was meant to reflect lorkhan over and over again until he surpassed the entirety of the aurbis. although, betrayed, “DROWNED,” lorkhan (who is the purest avatar of SITHISIT) is also “SMILING,” for despite his failure, there is yet enough hope that everything will be alright.

as always,

The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.

[221bshrlocked]

Your ask box is gonna be full Of panties and screams for Seb!

Once again I lost the ask for the archaeologist Seb one but you know who you are who requested this so I hope you enjoy it :) NSFW gifs under cut…this came out longer than expected btw.

He was being an asshole. He knew he was. But he also knew that he couldn’t show any signs of preferences towards the TAs. It’s not like any of them worked under him to begin with or needed to be on his good side to get a job. On the contrary, none of them ever even took his courses before. But he was replaced last minute as the linguistics pro on the dig team. So in reality, he didn’t even have the right to criticize your work.

But he just couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to see that blush going down your neck so often and sure as hell wasn’t about to compliment you to see it. Whatever he could do just so he doesn’t stare at your sweaty skin for too long. God damn every time you were in one of the dig holes, he’d see you moving so eloquently around and making sure everything was perfect and it was such a weird turn on. The way you ordered the less experienced students around or helped them with something they were about to royally fuck up.

The things he’d do to have you moaning beneath him. He thought for a split second you were interested as well, the way you licked your lips whenever he blurted out those stupid ‘fun facts,’ but there was no way. And then there was the shameless checking out when he lifted the tools and set them in the cars. He’d hate to admit it but he always put on a show whenever you were around, choosing to do extra work just to show off. It was so stupid though because you wouldn’t look at him while there were guys your age here. Right?

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard you laughing and joking around with another TA, beer in one hand and books on the floor while you kept on fanning yourself.

“It’s a bull hunt not a fucking war with the goats Matt!” You recorded some more stuff before smiling at something he said. “Oh you can’t possibly believe that do you.”

“All I’m saying is, he’s just comparing himself with the ‘victorious bull’…doin the nasty business with the great royal wife. I’m telling you, there are some inuendoes in there.”

“Okay first of all, no. Just no. The Bull Hunt Scarab of Amenhotep III has nothing to do with whatever the fuck you’re saying alright. Now, if you really want to read some sexy stuff, check out the letters with the Hittites. Oh man, I ship those kings so hard.” He splashed water on you and you started laughing again, eyes falling on Sebastian and suddenly losing your train of thoughts because the things this man could do to you just from giving you the death stare.

“What’re we talking about?” He came and sat down opposite of you, making Matt straighten up and snort before he shook his head.

“I was just telling Y/N over here that the Egyptians liked to hide some personal things in their stelas.”

“It’s a scarab not a stela.” You corrected him, not wanting to look up or say anything else because of course Sebastian was going to tell you that you’re wrong.

“The one from his 2nd regnal year?” He kept on looking at you writing stuff down, his eyes following the sweat dripping between your cleavage.

“Yeah. I was just telling him that Queen Tiye’s name appears in many inscriptions like this one because she was deified.”

“Well, she was deified later in Upper Nubia but not during the time this scarab was made so I wouldn’t say that.” He chuckled, blinking and looking away when you gave him that look.

“She was the most influential woman during his reign…is that a better reason?” You couldn’t help but slap back at him, the heat going straight to your head. “I- well I was just saying…” Sebastian stuttered, making you mentally pat yourself on the back.

“But yes you are right. It’s for that reason that he called her-”

“bi3it.” You cut him off again, finishing your beer before standing up and excusing yourself.

“What does that mean?” Matt wasn’t following along to any of what just transpired. He did, however, notice the way Sebastian looked at you when you walked back into the house.

“Marvel.”

“You know-” Matt was about to say something when he held up his hands as soon as Sebastian gave him the ‘shut the fuck up’ look he gave the other new students when they didn’t know what the hell was going on.

“Good night professor.” Matt grabbed the rest of the drinks and walked away, leaving Sebastian meditating by himself in front of the fire. He really should apologize he thought to himself. But how? Another few minutes passed before he decided he’ll just do it now before he chickened out.

Putting out the fire, he said goodnight to the workers and told them to take care of the rest of the drinks before walking to your room nervously.

You had the entire third floor to yourself, the other TA’s choosing the second floor where the rooms connected. Sebastian made sure to stay quiet, not wanting to alert anyone at such a late hour. He was about to knock on your door when he heard sighs coming through, his mind frantically thinking of so many scenarios.

Was he too late? Did he misunderstand your conversation earlier and you were actually flirting with Matt? Were you and him a thing? Fuck what if he was in there right now?

He kicked himself and was about to walk away when he heard it. It was so breathy and low but he was sure he heard his name. Pushing the door open just a little, he stopped breathing as soon as he saw what you were doing.

“Yes…yes oh shit Sebastian right there. Want you so bad- ‘m so wet please…please.” Your hands were rubbing furiously through your panties, fingers pinching and rolling your nipples before you moaned his name over and over again. “Got me so wet professor…I want your cock Sebastian…want you to shove that thick, hard cock in my mouth…in oh fuck yess…m-my pussy…any- ahh oh god yesss yes- anywhere you want.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You were pleasuring yourself to the thought of him using you. Pleasuring you. Fingering you. Fucking you.

Sebastian’s eyes widened when you rolled over and cried into the covers, almost screaming his name as soon as your fingers punished your clit.

He was so lost into watching you he didn’t notice when you’ve already come and arched your back before you pulled your hands away. But then you kept on grinding against the mattress, wanting a second release and praying his name.

Sebastian couldn’t take it anymore, walking in and making his presence known. As soon as you heard him clearing his throat, you rolled over and sat up, grabbing the covers and throwing them over your chest before your breathing picked up.

“Tsk tsk tsk…I didn’t tell you to do that sweetheart.” He locked the door and approached you slowly, eyes lingering on your still wet fingers before he kneeled in front of the bed. He knew you probably wanted the earth to swallow you at this moment but the refused to pass up an opportunity on teasing you.

“It’s so difficult sometimes…being your professor. Oh wait- I’m not.” He spread your thighs open, fingers inching slowly down your knees before he winked at you. “Which means…I can do this.” Leaning forward, he took your lips in a dizzying kiss, tongue licking and teeth biting at your skin. You so willingly opened your mouth to him, moaning and dropping the covers to pull him by his neck. Within seconds, he was on top of you, hands roaming your body and making you more hot and bothered.

“Do you have any idea how much I thought of pushing the back of your head and your mouth on my cock? Fuck baby girl…and your nose touching my groin.” You couldn’t believe your ears. Here was the man that acted all professional and quiet, whispering the filthiest things to you and cupping your boobs. He leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth, harshly sucking before letting go and licked a stripe between the valley of your breasts.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Sliding my cock out of your mouth? Seeing my cock hard and glistening with your spit…answer me!” Sebastian pulled on your hair, a quick ‘yes sir’ escaping your lips before you thought about it.

“Hmm…good.” He pushed off of you, hands trailing down to your panties before taking them off and shoving them in his pocket. Laying down next to you, he kissed you again before shoving two fingers in your mouth and reclaiming your lips after. Too busy thinking of how amazing of a kisser he was, you didn’t notice his fingers massaging your thighs before attacking your clit again. He had you crying his name within seconds, already sensitive from before.

“God baby you’d take my cock so well too…I just know it. The way you lick your lips when you look at me. It fucking turns me on so much when you walk around in those shorts and tank tops. Making me hard in front of all those students. You enjoy your little teasing don’t you love?”

“Right there Seb ple- oh fuck yes please I’m so close so so close-”

“You’re making me so hard right now Y/N. Feel what you do to me.” He pushed his crotch into your hands, moaning your name when you palmed him through his jeans. “So beautiful Y/N. You ready for my cock? I’ve wanted to feel this pretty little pussy for so long baby you have no idea…fuck you like I own you.” He kissed you again, this time more aggressively than before, like he was a parched man and you were an oasis in the middle of the desert. You felt his hands squeezing your neck before he completely pulled away and started stripping. You kept on playing with yourself, watching him taking his clothes off and suddenly feeling self-conscious because damn he was built like a god.

“I’m gonna make you feel real good Y/N…” As soon as he stepped out of his pants, he gipped your thighs and pushed them wide open, rubbing his hard cock on your wet slit before pushing in agonizingly slowly.

“You want this so bad don’t you? You want it as much as I do…you gonna let me fuck you hard baby girl…shit you’re tight- no-” Sebastian felt one of your thighs shutting slowly, smacking one of them and making you shiver from the contact/ “Keep those legs open…ahhhh fuck yes yes baby.” He drove his cock right into you, hips slamming and making the filthiest sound when they met your ass.

“Oh yeahh….r-right there Seb..you’re so hard for me sir!” You laid your hands on his, holding tightly onto them as he squeezed your hips and dragged you down the bed. He filled you over and over again, the sounds of skin slapping on skin along with your moans the only thing he wanted to hear. “Ohhh fuck- your pussy feels so fucking good on my cock.”

Your legs circling around his waist, heels digging into his ass and pulling him further into you.

He couldn’t get the sight of you rolling beneath him out of his mind, still not believing this was real. You threw your head back, hands scratching his head when he leaned down and bit your nipples. He slid in and out, his groin rubbing your clit and before you knew it, you were coming on his cock, pussy clenching and gripping him so tightly he was sure he was going to die.

Sebastian managed to pull out just in time, about to pump his cock when you smacked his hands away and pushed him to lie on his back, getting on your stomach before sucking on the tip of his cock and massaging his balls. He shut his eyes and bucked his hips, coming down your throat and enjoying the feeling of your silky tongue rolling around the tip before he pushed you away.

You both laid there panting, limbs tangled and chests heaving for a good while before he stood up and walked to the bathroom. For a second, you thought he was about to leave. But then he came back with a washcloth and dabbed your skin, smiling when you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Would you look at that, he can actually smile.” You joked, giggling when he shook his head and threw the washcloth on the floor. “Only for you sweetheart. Only for you.”

[nocteverbascio]

Watolock prompt 52 pleasee i love your writingg 💞💞💞 (“So you guys are dating or?”)

HI~ so i may or may not be assuming that you’re new to me and my writing so WELCOME (because ive just literally started writing watolock for the last couple of days) and funny enough my stuff i’ve been writing has been based off the prompt list but i have kind of deviated from it a bit so you’re probably not going to see the exact quote but idea is all there…anyway

closest thing to datingSummary: Sherlock observes Shibata and Wato at a crime scene. It’s obvious they’re dating each other. Wato thinks Sherlock needs to do more research to sharpen her observation skills. Sherlock thinks Wato needs to do more research to understanding what dating consists of.

ao3 link

Sherlock is inspecting the scene, listening to Shibata go on about the case, while Wato looks over the body and relays her findings. There’s an unbridled glee as she checks every inch of the exhibit. A killer mummy? How interesting.

She peers into the empty sarcophagus, hearing Shibata go on about how everything was seemingly normal and the team that worked on the mummy can confirm it was indeed dead. There was no chance it could come to life; it’s an incredible occurrence that’s captured Sherlock’s interest.

“They say the tomb has been cursed,” Shibata goes on ominously. Even he is interested in this case moreso than others. “Anyone who has disturbed the resting one will be put to rest.”

Sherlock scoffs in disbelief. “A curse,” she mocks, eyeing the sarcophagus up and down and reaching in.

“Ah! It’s like that movie, The Mummy, right?” Wato chimes in playfully. “The men who take the mummy’s relics are hunted down and sucked the life out of.”

“Yes, yes!” Shibata agrees enthusiastically. “It’s a great movie! It’s been so long since I’ve seen it. I thought about that when we first heard about the case.”

“Oh, it was a great movie growing up,” Wato converses cheerfully as always. “The scene where the scarab crawls into the man’s flesh kept me up for weeks after seeing it. Just thinking about it still makes my skin crawl.” She lets out a giggle and Shibata laughs along with her.

Sherlock clenches her jaw, listening to their inane conversation about the movie. “A movie isn’t an accurate depiction of Ancient Egyptian practices. There are no such things as curses,” she deadpans, standing up straight to face them.

“Just because you don’t believe in curses, doesn’t mean they aren’t true,” Wato argues. “There are plenty of things that can’t be explained.”

Shibata agrees audibly to which Sherlock glares.

“What?” he defensively asks. “I’m not saying this particular case is cursed, but there are things that science has yet to prove. Wato isn’t wrong.” Wato smiles, pleased at his defense.

There’s a strange sensation in Sherlock’s chest as she observes the two of them. Wato stands inches beside Shibata. Wato looks different, Sherlock notices. Wato is wearing a less sack looking shirt that hides her figure and has opted for a portofino button up that she’s tucked comfortably into her slacks underneath a new jacket that she mentioned getting last week but wasn’t sure if she was going to wear it. Her hair is also different, half up half down and with her bangs grown up, she looks beautifully mature. And there’s a thin layer of concealer.

Wato looks at Shibata happily and Shibata looks back at Wato with the same level of affection.

Sherlock eyes carefully. The strange sensation actually starts to twist inside of her. It bothers her, making her blood boil and heart rate rise. They laugh at some inside joke they share. And Sherlock feels–

“If we are not talking about the case, then what’s the point of you being here?” Sherlock interjects, trying to focus on the task at hand. She was in such a good mood and now it’s turned sour all of a sudden.

“Sherlock,” Wato scolds with a warning look.

“It’s fine, Wato,” Shibata keeps his composure, even shooting her a gentle smile. “I’m going to talk to the medical examiner.”

Sherlock feels a pang in her chest. “Good,” Sherlock snaps encouragingly. “We need a full report for any possible foreign agent or toxins in the victim’s blood stream.”

Shibata nods and gives another look to Wato that has her smiling before he steps away.

Instead of lingering, Sherlock whips back to sarcophagus to continue her investigation. “Good riddance,” she mutters, tilting her head into the supposedly ancient sarcophagus.

“What was that?” Wato asks pointedly, hand grasping her elbow.

Sherlock’s concentration doesn’t break because she knows Wato isn’t trying to distract her; she wants Sherlock to know that she’s nearby though. “What?” she mutters, running her finger along a dip near the head of the sarcophagus.

“You were mean to Shibata for no reason,” Wato points out like it’s the most obvious thing.

“We are conducting an investigation, not having small talk over movies,” Sherlock lets out rather derisively. “Even if you are dating, there’s a time an place for leisurely conversation.”

“Eh?” Wato exclaims loudly. Sherlock shuts her eyes at the sudden loudness. Wato looks around at the officers in the room apologetically. She rubs the back of Sherlock’s bicep. “What’re you talking about?”

Sherlock rolls her eyes as she rounds the sarcophagus because Wato’s hand touching her becomes too warm. “You and Shibata,” she deadpans. She clenches her fists unconsciously at the thought of two of them.

Wato follows after her. “Sherlock, you are being ridiculous,” she declares. She bumps into Sherlock when she abruptly stops at the desk and has to grab onto Sherlock’s arms to steady herself.

Sherlock has gotten used to it and pays no mind as she turns her head to look at Wato briefly. “How am I being ridiculous? It is quite elementary, Wato.” The twisting sensation she has in her chest still lingers and it only seems to pronounce itself whenever Sherlock mentions them. She looks back towards the papers littered across the table and continues observing.

Wato doesn’t seem to let go of Sherlock. She just steps to the side of her and leans in to speak to her more privately. “I think your observation skills need sharpening,” Wato points out with annoyance. “Shibata and I are not dating.”

“Is that so?” Sherlock hums, ignoring the lightness in her chest at Wato’s apparent denial. She shifts a few papers to read them thoroughly. “Your sudden wardrobe change and attention to your appearance says otherwise. It’s comparable to animals that have flashy and attractive assets they put on display to attract a mate.”

Wato hooks her hands around Sherlock’s arm and leans in with a tug. “Sherlock, I’m not some animal!” she grumbles with annoyance. “A mate sounds so–”

“It is accurate, we are animals. Mammals in fact and we have our own mating rituals that are just shaped by modern society that we live it, but it isn’t all that different,” Sherlock goes on. Despite her discourse related to the fact that Wato is putting on a display for the likes of Shibata, the fact that Wato is currently holding onto her isn’t bothering her at all. “It makes sense for you to date. Between working cases with me and the clinic, your parents have a growing concern that you won’t find anyone to married and produce offspring.”

Wato cringes and exhales shaking her head. “Do you hear yourself speak?” she asks in disbelief. “How do you even know what my parents are saying?”

Sherlock hangs her head to look at Wato with a questioning look. Honestly, Wato should know better by now.

“Tsk, I’ve talked to you about eavesdropping on my conversations–”

“You speak very loudly while I’m in the room.”

“Well then you should at least listen to the whole conversation,” Wato argues.

“Your family affairs have nothing to do with me,” Sherlock automatically holds up her hand as a shield before pointing towards one of the other Egyptian displays. Wato nods and moves with Sherlock, still holding onto her.

“My family affairs don’t have anything to do with you,” Wato concedes just to placate Sherlock. “However, my affairs–meaning my work and our work–has to do with you.”

“Huh?” Sherlock sounds while looking up and down the Egyptian text carved in the stone before reaching in her pocket for her phone. “Me?”

“We work together and live together,” Wato points out. “We share most of our time together; what possible time would I have to date? And honestly, why would you even consider me dating Shibata? We are good friends.”

Sherlock huffs. “Your body language and behavior is obvious,” she feels like she’s repeating herself for the umpteenth time. “If you’re trying to hide it from me, it’s moot.”

“Moot?” Wato parrots in disbelief. “Ah! Why are you so frustrating?” She grips Sherlock’s arm more securely to actually get her attention. “I’m not dating anyone. The closest thing I would have to dating is you.”

“Ah? Me?” Sherlock’s attention shoots to Wato suddenly. She is actually shocked. Dating? Dating Wato? Her mind tries to wrap around the course of their conversation to find out when it went sideways. She feels a tightness, this time in her chest because her heart seems to be beating very noticeably. “Why would you say such a thing?”

Wato returns the same look Sherlock had given her not too long ago. She tilts her head with an unsaid Really?

Sherlock laughs at how absurd the path of the conversation has gone. “That is not logical. I’ve read enough about dating and love and all of it’s absurd societal expectations along with its inevitable outcomes to avoid being a victim of romance.”

“Romance and dating have changed since you’ve read about them,” Wato argues, “and I’ve learned from working with you that companionship and intimacy can be defined in many unconventional ways.”

Sherlock tilts her head and covers Wato’s mouth with her hand before she can continue speaking. “This requires further research. Please don’t speak anymore of this; your opinion does not dictate the facts.” To her surprise, she can feel Wato smiling underneath her palm and she lets go.

Wato has a cheeky smile on her face that is infectious enough to make Sherlock smile. “I’ve surprised you, haven’t I?”

Sherlock shakes her head in disbelief. “Dating! How absurd, Wato.” She starts to walk away before turning around and walking backwards. “I’ll prove to you what dating is and solve this case simultaneously.”  

After her thorough sweep of the scene she heads out while Wato lingers to apologize profusely to the curator for Sherlock’s harsh criticisms of the exhibit security.

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock looks up from her phone and sees Shibata standing in front of her. “Ah, you’re still here?” Admittedly, she’d forgotten about him in a few minutes after he left her sight. Now that he was back, she felt that coiling sensation inside of her again.

Shibata looks around Sherlock briefly. “Where’s Wato?”

Sherlock huffs. “She’ll be out in a second.”

“Ah,” Shibata nods in agreement with an impassive look on his face. “Listen, we’ve come a bit of ways, you and I.”

“What do you want?” Sherlock retorts with annoyance.

Shibata laughs to himself. “This is why I need Wato around, so you’ll be nicer to me.” Sherlock moves to walk away when he stands in her way. “Look, I’m not trying to get in between you two because I know how possessive you are of Wato.”

“What?” Sherlock reels back at possessive.

“But Wato is one of my good friends. She’s much kinder and more compassionate than you are, so I obviously like her more than you,” Shibata points out with an annoying grin, “but I know you and Wato are dating. I support you two.”

Sherlock’s eyes widen in complete shock, but she recovers quickly. There’s a bubbling sensation in her chest and warmth running up and down her back. Sherlock feels the need to get out of there. “What’s with you kids?” she grumbles to herself. “Do you even know what dating is anymore?!“ She shoots a glare at Shibata and shakes her head in frustration as she walks away. "Absurd!”

[aion-rsa]

The Most Terrifying Magic: The Gathering Cards

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October means we’re officially in spooky season, so what better time to explore some of the more terrifying corners of Magic: The Gathering? Plenty of monsters and villains occupy each color of Magic, but it’s the black swamps that host the most vile and decrepit. Among the infinite shadows of these landscapes, few threats are as immediately fear-inducing as zombies.

If you’re looking to build a deck that’ll send shivers down your opponent’s spine, or just devour anything they throw at you, an army of the living dead is the way to go. Though often quite weak on their own, the dead quickly outnumber any adversary with the right strategy, and the right leaders. Rare, high-powered ghouls are key to any good zombie deck, whether in commander, standard, or otherwise – here’s a list of the best and rarest for you to track down for your own nefarious means.

Mikaeus, The Unhallowed

Here’s a legendary zombie priest to start with, and a very troublesome one at that. As part of Dark Ascension, Mikaeus can’t be used in standard, but he’s perfect for running a shambling black commander deck. The strengths of Mikaeus, The Unhallowed are three-fold. First, when a human card deals damage to you it gets destroyed, which is already a worthwhile defense. Then, other non-human creatures you control get +1/+1, so your ghouls already out are getting buffed, and on top of that, they have undying, meaning they’re resurrected with a +1/+1 counter if they died without one. With him out, the plague does not stop coming.

At around $35, Mikaeus is an investment, but one that puts the edge on any black commander build. For less than ten bucks more, you can find the foil version, which could be even better as trade fodder, too.

Sidisi, Undead Vizier

A slightly cheaper purchase is Sidisi, Undead Vizier, a rare from Dragons of Tarkir. Sidisi’s less about immediate strength, and more about strategy. When the zombie naga comes into play, you can sacrifice a creature. If you do, you can search your deck for any card and put it into your hand. In the commander format, since everything beyond lands can only be included once, that’s a handy tool to have in your arsenal.

Outside of that, the Undead Vizier has deathtouch, meaning any damage he deals to an opposing creature will kill that creature. At a converted mana cost of five and four strength and six toughness, Sidisi can deal some serious blows if need be. The pleasure of doing so will run you just over $10, so not too cost prohibitive an acquisition.

Balthor the Defiled

Magic: The Gathering has a penchant for producing some truly heavy metal card concepts, and Balthor is a classic. A zombie dwarf legend, which should tell you enough, Balthor’s two abilities are to strengthen minions, or bring back all red or black creatures in everyone’s graveyards to play. The first is self-explanatory, all minions in play get +1/+1, but the second can be explosive. For three black and removing Balthor from the game, every black and red creature in a graveyard returns from the dead. If you’ve been heavy on the low-level, easy-to-kill creatures, that could be catastrophic for whomever you’re against.

Balthor’s services are pretty easy on the wallet, at $10 or so, four times that if you’d like the foil version. “He remembers enough of his life to weep for what he has lost,” his description reads. Heavy.

The Scarab God

If mono-black feels a bit limited, The Scarab God is a strong way to expand, requiring one blue along with one black and three colorless. This undying God – the title’s not just for show – is a literal zombie machine that trades corpses for powerful tokens. Its main ability is, for two colorless, one blue and one black, that you can exile a creature from a graveyard to create a 4/4 black zombie token in its place. Then, if that wasn’t enough, this legendary inflicts one damage to each opponent for every zombie under your control at the start of tour upkeep, and gives you scry for each zombie too.

What’s more, Scarab God returns to your hand the turn after it dies. At $15, you’re getting a serious asset for a commander deck that can overwhelm most anything it’s up against.

Geralf’s Messenger

Of course, all these commanders are nothing without the frontlines, the wave of undead soldiers that battle in their stead. You can find many a decent pile of rotting flesh to fill out your ranks, of which Geralf’s Messenger is a fine addition. The three black, 3/2 zombie enters the battlefield tapped, but gives your opponent two damage right from the off, just so they don’t think they’re getting off easy. Then, this shambling corpse has undying, meaning it comes back with a +1/+1 counter if it dies without one, so once your opponent kills it, it returns stronger, like any good ghoul.

Commander, modern, legacy, Geralf’s Messenger is legal in a number of formats, and his price of $7 reflects that. Not everyone is meant to be a leader, some are almost criminally good at being a follower.

Commander, modern, legacy, Geralf’s Messenger is legal in a number of formats, and his price of $7 reflects that. Not everyone is meant to be a leader, some are almost criminally good at being a follower.

Murderous Rider

The current playing field for standard offers a couple of cheap options if you want to incorporate rotting flesh and zombification into your repertoire. Murderous Rider is one, a Throns of Eldraine rare zombie knight. This resurrected knight on horseback gives you two lovely abilities that can be useful in the right circumstances. As an instant, with swift end, it can destroy a creature or planeswalker, but you lose two life and it’s exiled. If it dies normally, it goes to the bottom of your library.

For a converted mana cost of three for a 2/3, it could be the trump card you need in a bind, and at $3 at the minute, it’s a bit of a steal.

Polukranos, Unchained

Zombie hydra – need I say more? This green-black legendary creature is a costly behemoth, but if you can tame it, you can do some heavy damage. It enters the battlefield with six 1/1 counters, so for two colorless, one black and one green, you’re getting bang for your mana. The drawback is that damage is calculated using those counters, so whatever damage it takes, it lose that many counters. For one colorless, one black and one green, however, Polukranos can can fight another creature, so you can bounce this thing around the opposition.

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Four colorless, one black and one green, and six exiled cards from your graveyard lets this multi-headed monster escape back onto the battlefield if it’s killed, this time with 12 1/1 counters. Costs around $3 at the moment, and allowed in every format. A legendary zombie in every sense of the word.

The post The Most Terrifying Magic: The Gathering Cards appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[dccomicsimagines]

First Valentine’s Day - Bart Allen x Reader

Requested by Anon - a First Valentines Day with Bart cuz they don't celebrate it in the future.

Everything started when you found out Bart had never celebrated officially Valentine’s Day. You overheard him talking with Jaime about it, asking what it was about for he only heard vague stories about it. After hearing Jaime’s attempt at an explanation, you decided to give Bart the best first Valentine’s day ever.

Of course, Bart and you weren’t dating, but the constantly flirting between the two of you hinted at something more. So, you didn’t feel too uncomfortable about it. After all, if Bart turned out to not have any feelings for you at all, you could still do it as a friend.

You planned everything out, even going so far as to recruit other members of the team to make sure Bart would arrive and receive everything he was supposed to at the right time. It was a lot of work, but you knew it would be worth it.

The morning of fourteenth of February arrived with a knock on the door of the Garricks’ house. Bart zoomed through the house, having been up for hours trying to make a Valentine’s Day card for you. After hearing Jaime’s explanation of Valentine’s day, he researched a bit on his own, and figured out what he should do.

That being said, Bart was shocked beyond belief when he opened the door to find four heart shaped boxes of chocolate with a card with his name lying on his doorstep. Bart picked up the boxes, tucking them under his arm before opening up the card. 

Will you be my valentine? If so, come to the cave at one this afternoon.

 There was no name. Bart frowned in confusion, kicking the front door shut before placing the boxes of chocolate on the kitchen table. He stared at the card as Jay wandered into the kitchen, chuckling at the sight of the boxes of chocolate and Bart’s confused face. 

“It looks like you have a valentine, Bart,” Jay teased, ruffling Bart’s hair. Bart blinked, still staring at the card.

“Yeah, I guess,” Bart mumbled, dropping the card onto the table. “But I was planning to ask (Y/N) to be my valentine?” Bart buried his face into his hands. “I’m totally feeling the mode.”

Jay turned away from Bart to hide his smile. You had already contacted the Garricks to make sure Bart would get the chocolate and the card. “I don’t know, Bart.” Jay started the pot of coffee as Joan Garrick shuffled into the kitchen. She smiled at the sight of the boxes of chocolate, coming up to press a kiss to Bart’s forehead.

“Good morning, Bart,” she greeted, taking the note from the table. She read it before sharing a knowing look with Jay. “What’s all this about?”

“Someone left this on the doorstepandIdon’tknowwhattodobecauseIwasgoingtoask(Y/N)tobemyvalentinebutnowthishappenedandIdon’tknowwhattodobecauseIlike(Y/N)...,”Bart rambled, so fast Joan couldn’t understand. However, she sensed what he was talking about. 

“Bart, slow down,” Jay soothed, taking a seat at the table. Joan pushed Bart into a chair before moving about to make breakfast for the two speedsters. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Bart whined, sinking low into the chair. “I can’t ask (Y/N) to be my valentine if someone else already asked me. Jaime said you can only have one valentine.”

Jay and Joan shared a look before Jay opened his mouth. “Well,” he began, pursing his lips to keep the smile off his face. He knew Bart was going to have his mind blown when he found out his secret valentine was you, and he didn’t want to spoil it. “There is only one thing you can do.”

“What?” Bart exclaimed, leaning passed the boxes of chocolate to give Jay his full attention. 

“All you can do is meet the person at the time the note said,” Joan interjected as she gathered the ingredients to make pancakes. “Then, you can carefully and kindly explain how you do not want to be their valentine.” 

Bart bit his lips, thinking about what Joan said. “Okay, I can do that,” Bart agreed, much to Jay and Joan’s relief. Bart started eyeing the chocolates before Joan glared at him.

“Don’t even think about eating those before you eat breakfast,” she scolded as Bart used his super-speed to open one of the boxes to steal a chocolate.

Bart munched on the chocolate. “Sorry,” he mumbled with his mouth full. Joan rolled her eyes as Jay winked at Bart before stealing a chocolate from the box for himself. Bart scowled at him, not liking his food being stolen, but otherwise ignored it. Glancing at the clock, Bart sighed at how long he would have to wait until one, knowing it was going to seem like forever.

At twelve fifty eight, Bart changed into his costume before zooming out of the Garrick house towards the cave. He arrived right at one o’clock, skidding to a stop in the main room of the cave. Bart rubbing his head in confusion when he noticed no one was there. He started to walk towards the living area of the cave before a red rose in the center of the room caught his eye. 

Approaching the rose, Bart frowned when he found another note attached to the rose. The note had his name on it just like the last one. He opened it, hoping his secret valentine left a name, so he could finally come clean to them.

Do you still want to be my valentine? If so, come to the beach outside the cave at two.

Bart sighed when he didn’t see a name. He had a horrible pit in his stomach, feeling bad for dragging this secret person along. Part of him felt guilty as well for this entire thing felt like a betrayal to you. Picking up the rose, Bart wondered what he was going to do for the next hour.

Perhaps some would call this dirty, but Bart was desperate. He hid just inside the cave’s beach exit, waiting for his secret valentine to appear. Having already checked the beach, he knew nothing was there, so you would have to show up at some point before two o’clock. 

Each second seemed like an hour as he waited. He paced the entrance until he noticed he made a slight dent in the pavement from pacing too much. Finally, movement caught Bart’s eye as he watched Jaime, in his blue beetle armor, fly down from the sky to land on the beach. 

Bart rubbed his eyes, not believing what he was seeing. He glanced at his watch, eyes almost popping out of his head when he saw it was five minutes to two o’clock.

“Are you kidding me, Hermano?” Bart accused, zooming over to face Jaime. Jaime jumped in surprise, hiding whatever was in his hand behind his back. Bart stuck a finger in Jaime’s face. “This has been you the whole time.”

“You’re not suppose to be here yet, ese,” Jaime mumbled, using his free hand to bat Bart’s finger out of his face. 

“I’m totally been feeling the mode this whole time, because of you,” Bart shouted, his words tumbling out of his mouth at a rapid pace. Jaime had to use Scarab to understand him. “YouknewIwasgoingtoask(Y/N)asmyvalentinebutyouhadtoruinitbymakingmerunaroundalldaywhenIshouldhavebeenplanningonhowtoaskthem.Whydidyoudothistome?IthoughtyouunderstoodhowIfeltabout(Y/N).Ifyouhadfeelingsyoushouldhavejustsaidsoandavoidallthissneakingaround....”

“Woah, calm down, Hermano,” Jaime soothed, holding up his hand in a peaceful gesture once he understood what Bart was saying. “I’m not your secret valentine.”

“What?” Bart gasped, his mouth dropped open in shock. “Then, why are you here then?”

Jaime laughed good-naturedly, running his free hand through his hair. “I’m just doing a favor for your valentine.” Jaime slipped his phone out of his pocket to look at the time. Nodding to himself, he handed Bart the package he was keeping behind his back. “Here you can have this now.”

Bart took the package, sighing at the sight of a familiar-looking note. “Oh no, what I am I supposed to do?”

“Well, you could open it,” Jaime chuckled, lifting an eyebrow at him. Bart opened the note, groaning at the words inside.

Still want to be my valentine? Meet me on the top of the Empire State Building at two fifteen. I know you can get there in time.

“No, no. How am I suppose to get out of this?” Bart remarked, dropping the package before starting to pace the beach. 

Jaime watched him, frowning slightly. “Why would you want to get out of this?” He bent to pick up the package, so Bart wouldn’t step on it during his panicked pacing. 

“I don’t know who this person is, so I can’t tell them I don’t want to be their valentine,” Bart blurted, running his hands through his hair. Jaime’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“You don’t want them to be your valentine?!” Jaime gasped, his mind whirling.

“No, because I want (Y/N) to be my valentine,” Bart screamed in frustration. He threw the note on the ground. 

Jaime froze for a moment before guffawing, wrapping his arms around his stomach as if to hold himself together. Bart spun towards him, throwing his arms in the air.

“Why are you laughing? I’m totally feeling the mode right now!”

“Bart,” Jaime choked through his laughter. “You really don’t need to worry.”

“What?!” Bart shouted, grabbing Jaime’s shoulders to shake him. “What do you mean I don’t have to worry?!”

Jaime pushed Bart’s hands off of his shoulders before shoving the package into Bart’s hands. “Just open it,” Jaime ordered, working to control his laughter. 

Bart ripped open the package, freezing at the sight inside. He stared at it before carefully lifting it out of the box. It was small brown bear with a red ribbon around it’s neck. Another note was attached to the ribbon.

You said once that the only time you celebrated Valentine’s Day is when your mom scraped together enough material to make you a bear for Valentine’s Day. I know it’s not the same, but I thought you would like it just the same.

The bear dropped to the ground along with Bart’s jaw. His mind ran in circles as he remembered the only person he had told this story to. 

“No,” Bart gasped, looking at a snickering Jaime. Jaime simply nodded his head. Bart blinked for a moment before a silly smile broke onto his face. “Crash.”

Jaime slipped his phone back out of his pocket to glance at the time. “You better get going if you don’t want to be late.” Bart’s eye widened before he zoomed around, gathering the note and the bear before heading towards New York City. Jaime coughed at the sand Bart accidentally blew into his face before shaking his head. “Go get them, ese,” he mumbled, heading back into the cave.

You were standing on the empty viewing platform, dressed in your nicest clothes. Glancing at your phone, you realized Bart would be arriving soon. You fiddled with your clothes again, hoping you looked alright. Honestly, you were worried about how Bart would react. 

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew into your face as Bart appeared in front of you. A giant grin was plastered on his face. You found yourself smiling back at him.

“Hello Bart,” you greeted, noticing the bear and note in his hands. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“It was you,” Bart said, his eyes sparkling. “It was you all along.”

“Yes,” you answered, waiting for a sign that he was okay with what you did. When his hand snatched up yours, you knew you had nothing to worry about. Yet, you decided to ask the question anyway. “Will you be my valentine?”

Bart grinned before scooping you up in a hug at super-speed, knocking the breath out of your lungs. “Yes. A thousand times yes.” You laughed as he spun you around. The bear and the note falling out of his hands and onto the ground once again. 

“Put me down, Bart,” you giggling hysterically. “We’re on top of a building, you know.” He put you down, still vibrating with excitement. 

“Sorry, this is just so crash,” Bart buzzed, taking your hand once again. “I was planning on asking you to be my valentine ever since Jaime explained it to me, but to have you do it instead is just so...crash.” Bart blushed at the last part, making your heart almost give out by how cute he was. 

You didn’t answer, giving him a flattered smile before gesturing to the view of New York below. “What do you think of the view?”

Bart followed your gaze as if noticing it for the first time. His eyes widened, drawing him towards the edge of the guardrail to take in the view. “Crash,” he stated, glancing between you and the city. “I never thought I get to see it. It’s just so alive.”

“Yep,” you replied, biting your lip. “I had to promise to do paperwork for Batman for a month just to get the funds to get us alone up here.” Bart gazed at you in surprise.

“Why would you make such a sacrifice?” Bart asked with a seriousness that didn’t fit the situation. He was acting like you had to go to prison.  

“It’s not that bad,” you reassured, shrugging your shoulders. “Besides, you said you wanted to see New York since it was gone in your future.” You backed away from the guardrail, spreading your arms out. “I had to let you see it from the best view possible.”

Bart’s mouth hung open as he blinked at you. “I never thought anybody would listen to what I wanted,” he admitted softly.  Your eyes stung with tears, but you blinked them away. 

“Well, I did,” you replied, grabbing his hand to pull him into the building. He followed you, eyes widening at the sight of a nicely set table with a stack of pizza boxes in the middle. “You also said you wanted to try New York pizza.”

Bart almost drooled at the sight as his heart ached just a little. He stopped you, pulling you to face him. “This is too much, (Y/N). I didn’t get you anything...I mean I tried to make you a card, but then glue got everywhere and...”

“Hush.” You pressed a finger to quiet him. “It’s okay, Bart. You know, if by next Valentine’s Day if you still want me to be your valentine, then you can do everything next year.”

“What do you mean by ‘if’?” Bart asked, making your face burn by how serious he was. You bit your lip, glancing into his green eyes before prancing away from him towards the pizza.

“The pizza is going to get cold if you don’t...” you began before Bart scooped you off your feet and zoomed to seat you at the table. You choked on your words, laughing at the sight of the already opened pizza box and munching Bart across from you. Your heart glowed at the sight of him, knowing it would be a Valentine’s Day he wouldn’t forget.  

[hypexion]

Rastakhan’s Rumble: Quidditch Reveals

It counts because people somehow play Quidditch in real life. It’s probably more interesting than some of these neutral commons.

Make a Beast cheaper when Helpless Hatchling dies. But just one, even though similar effects have existed at Battlecry level previously. Probably not the worst thing to get randomly, but not the best either. I suppose it’s okay as a Zombeast component, since it can make other Zombeasts cheaper.

Another set, another Egg. Scarab Egg seems less great than others, since a single larger minion is often harder to clear early on. I guess having a few 1/1s to poke things is useful, but other egg choices seem better at the moment.

It’s a minion that can only attack while damaged. How creativity! Except the first attack against Dozing Marksman is free, which isn’t great. You can play another card to activate it early, but at that point you might as well play cards that don’t need activators.

Cheaty Anklebiter might heal you for three health. That’s not really that impressive. Similar cards to this don’t really see play, so this will probably follow their example and not show up much.

After many eons, Team Five has finally created a new way of using Enrage. Except Enrage was removed because they didn’t actually do that until now. Spellzerker probably isn’t that good since it needs to live to provide the boost, and Spell Damage +2 is scary enough that it probably won’t get to live. It’s probably not great for combos either, since part of your combo will need to be an activator.

Banana Buffoon gives you spells to buff your minions. I guess Quest Mage might like more ways to get spells, and Quest Paladin might like more buffs, but neither of those decks are particularly amazing. Maybe this is okay in Arena, but I don’t really see it getting far in Constructed, since better buff options are available.

Ornery Tortoise is a Warlock card but neutral. Hit yourself for five damage to get... one extra stat point. Yeah. Even you want to hurt yourself, it seems like there are better options to choose from. It’s also pretty bad as a Zombeast option unless combined with a Lifesteal Beast. Not a great card overall, but I guess not the worst thing in Arena.

What if Runic Egg had twice the health, drew twice as many cards, and costed four times more? It would be Arena Treasure Chest, and it would terrible. Even if you’re really, really hurting for card draw, this is super slow and it’s unlikely to die accidentally.

Handbuffs are now for every class with Arena Fanatic. I guess with the mechanic’s constant failure, Team Five is going for a shotgun approach to try and make it playable. Being open to all classes might cause that to happen, but probably only if there’s some way to horribly break things using Arena Fanatic.

Rumbletusk Shaker literally doesn’t make sense. It’s always in rotation with Piloted Reaper, which will be able to pull minion of the same strength. Except the Reaper is a 4/3, which is better than Rumbletusk Shaker. Although it’s probably okay for Arena.

Regeneratin’ Thug might be hard for some decks to get ride of quickly, but that’s it. Also, it dies pretty quickly if your opponent has any damage spells, so that’s not fun. This is probably okay for Arena, but so are a lot of cards.

Half-Time Scavenger is an Overkill minion with Stealth, meaning that it’s easier to get the Overkill effect. That’s kind of neat. It shouldn’t be too hard to arrange things such that you get some Armor, but I don’t think you’ll be able to trigger the Overkill effect multiple times. Any deck that cares about you gaining Armor will probably be able to redirect some damage towards Half-Time Scavenger, especially once it’s weakened from attacking.

Former Champ is another X mana 1/1 than summons an X/X minion. Big whoop. Good against some secrets, good for getting stuff to Evolve, bad to Evolve into. There’s nothing really new to talk about here.

Dragonmaw Scorcher has a useful effect, although once you reach turn five the utility starts to get diminished. But this is a Dragon, so Dragon Warrior might like in order to get a few extra Whirlwind effects. It is a little behind the curve, however, meaning it could be more of a Discover minion that one you choose to put in your deck.

Mosh’ogg Enforcer is the healthiest Taunt minion around. It also has Divine Shield, for extra damage absorption. While this does look a great road block for aggressive decks, it doesn’t provide much pressure, and is a great target for hard removal effects. This is probably another card that will see most of it’s play via Discover. Of course, it’s massive health pool does mean that Priests might want to attempt to use it as combo piece. Especially since doubling Mosh’ogg Enforcer’s health will make it even harder to kill.

Well, that’s everything. All 135 cards, including all the pointless neutral commons, forgettable rares, and Epics designed to screw you over. It’s still a while until the set comes out, so there’s still time to theorycraft a bunch of decks that will collapse on first contact with the enemy.

Overall, this expansion looks like it has some neat ideas. Hopefully some of them will see more support in further sets. And maybe Team Five will finally give up on Handbuffs. I mean, they might have finally worked out Discard, but do we really need more iterations of Handbuffs?