#scrap-iron scarecrow

[artzchao]

[greenwitchcrafts]

October 2023 witch guide

Full moon: October 28th

New moon: October 14th

Sabbats: Samhain

October Hunter's Moon

Known as: Blood moon, drying rice moon, falling leaf moon, freezing moon, migrating moon, moon of the changing seasons, shedding moon, ten colds moon, winterfelleth & windermanoth

Element: Air

Zodiac: Libra & Scorpio

Nature spirits: Frost faeries & Plant faeries

Deities: Apollo, Astarte, Belili, Cernunnos, Demeter, Hathor, Herne, Horned God, Ishtar, Kore, Lakshmi & Mercury

Animals: Elephant, jackal, ram, scorpion & stag

Birds: Crow, heron & robin

Trees: Acacia, apple, cypress & yew

Herbs/Plants: Angelica, apple blossom, burdock, catnip, pennyroyal, sweet Annie, thyme & Uva ursi

Flowers: Calendula, cosmos & marigold

Scents: Apple blossom, cherry & strawberry

Stones: Amethyst, beryl, obsidian, opal, tourmaline & turquoise

Colors: Black, dark blue, Dark greens & purples

Energy: Artistic works, balance, creativity, harmony, inner cleansing, justice, karma, legal matters, mental stimulation, partnerships, reincarnation & uncovering mysteries or secrets

It is believed that this name originates from the fact that it was a signal for hunters to prepare for the upcoming cold winter by going hunting. This is because animals were beginning to fatten up in preparation for the winter season. Moreover, since fields had recently been cleared out under the Harvest Moon, hunters could easily spot deer and other animals that had come out to search for remaining scraps. Additionally, foxes and wolves would also come out to prey on these animals.

The earliest use of the term “Hunter’s Moon,” cited in the Oxford English Dictionary, is from 1710. Some sources suggest that other names for the Hunter’s Moon are the Sanguine or Blood Moon, either associated with the blood from hunting or the color of the changing autumn leaves. 

Samhain

Also known as: All Hallow's Eve,  Ancestor Night, Feast of Apples, Feast of Sam-fuim, Feast of Souls, Feast of the Dead, Geimhreadh, Hallowmass, Martinmass, Old Hallowmas, Pagan New Year, Samana, Samhuinn, Samonios, Shadowfest & Third Harvest

Season: Fall

Symbols: Apples, bats, besom(brooms), black cats, cauldrons, ghosts, gourds, jack-o-lanterns, pumpkins, scarecrows & witches

Colors: Black, gold, orange, silver & white

Oils/incense: Basil, cloves, copal, frankincense, gum mastic, heather, heliotrope, mint, myrrh & nutmeg

Animals: Bat, boar, cat cattle & dogs

Stones: Amber, anatase, black calcite, black obsidian, black tourmaline, brass, carnelian, clear quartz diamond, garnet, gold, granite, hematite, iron, jet, marble, pearl, pyrite, ruby, sandstone, sardonyx, smokey quartz, steel & tektite

Foods: Apples, ale, beef, cider, corm, fruits, garlic, gourds, grains, hazelnuts, herbal teas, mushroom, nettle, nuts, pears, pomegranates, pork, poultry, pumpkin pie, sunflower seeds, thistle, turnips & wine (mulled)

Herbs/plants: Acorn, Allspice, catnip, corn, dittany of Crete, hazel, mandrake, mugwort, mullien, oak leaves, pine, rosemary, sage, straw, tarragon, thistle, wormwood & yellow cedar

Flowers: Calendula, chrysanthemum, deadly nightshade, rue & fumitory

Goddesses: Al-lat, Baba Yaga, Badb, Banba, Bast, Bebhionn, Bronach, Brunhilde, Cailleach, Carlin, Cassandra, Cerridwen, Copper Woman, Crobh Dearg, Devanyani, Dolya, Edda, Elli, Eris, Erishkigal, Fortuna, Frau Holde, Hecate, Hel, Ishtar, Kali, Macha Mania, Morrigan, Nemesis, Nephthys, Nicneven & Rhiannon

Gods: Arawan, Baron Samede, Belenus, Coyote, Cronus, Dagda, Dis, Hades, Loki, Nefertum, Odin, Osiris, Pluto, Woden & Xocatl

Issues Intentions & Powers: Crossroads, darkness, death, divination, honoring ancestors, introspection, the otherworld/underworld, release, visions & wisdom (of the crone)

Spellwork: Divination, fire magick, night magick, shape-shifting, spirit calling & water magick

Related festivals:

• Day of the Dead- (Spanish: Día de Muertos or Día de los Muertos) is a holiday traditionally celebrated on November 1st and 2nd, though other days, such as October 31 or November 6, may be included depending on the locality. It is widely observed in Mexico, where it largely developed & is also observed in other places, especially by people of Mexican heritage. Although related to the simultaneous Christian remembrances for Hallowtide, it has a much less solemn tone and is portrayed as a holiday of joyful celebration rather than mourning. The multi-day holiday involves family and friends gathering to pay respects and to remember friends and family members who have died. These celebrations can take a humorous tone, as celebrants remember funny events and anecdotes about the departed.

• All Saints Day- is a Christian solemnity celebrated in honor of all the saints & martyrs of the Church, whether they are known or unknown

Activities:

• Dedicate an altar to loved ones who have passed

• Boil a simmer pot to cleanse your space

• Have a silent dinner

• Light a candle for your loved ones & yourself

• Decorate your house and/or altar

• Release negative energy & cleanse your with a ritual bath

• Pull tarot cards to see what may be in store for you ahead

• Cleanse, clean & de-clutter your space

• Leave offerings to the Fae

• Journal & reflect on your accomplishments, challenges & everything you did this year

•Go on a nature walk

• Learn a new form of divination

• Have a bonfire with your friends and/or family

• Carve pumpkins

• Express yourself creatively through art, music, ect

• Visit a cemetery & help clean off areas that need it or to visit a family member/ ancestor & leave an offering

• Hold a seance

• Bake spooky treats & bread as offerings

• Refresh your protection magicks, sigils & rituals

Samhain is a Gaelic festival on 1 November marking the end of the harvest season and beginning of winter or "darker half" of the year. Celebrations begin on the evening of 31 October, since the Celtic day began and ended at sunset.

This fire festival is celebrated on October 31st & is considered the Pagan New Year. It is the first Sabbat on the Wheel of the Year, a cross-quarter festival & the third (final) harvest festival of the mundane year. This is the time when the veil between the worlds of the living & those who have passed is the thinnest, which allows greater communication between the two

Some believe this is the time of the Goddess's mourning of the death of the God until his rebirth at Yule. The Goddess's sadness can be seen in the shortening, darkening days & the arrival of cold weather

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's 2023 magical almanac: practical magic for everyday living

Wikipedia

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

[inkblackorchid]

dunno if you've ever been asked, but what are your thoughts on z-one? He's one of my favorite final boss villains in YGO but I know (especially for a while) people didn't like him due to the fakeout of not being an evil Yusei.

Hey there! As a matter of fact, I have not been asked. I think Z-ONE's a fine antagonist, frankly. The setup to get to him takes a while, but the reveal when he finally shows up is pretty good where I'm concerned. (Of course, some things about him are plagued by the same plotholes as the entire WRGP—mostly, the scope of his "godlike" powers is very, very unclear. But since it adds a lot of pizzazz, I can usually overlook it.) Moreover, I think the initial reveal of his face—where it's unclear whether or not he's Yusei at first—is perfect, because it really throws you for a loop.

That said, I'm a bit in two minds about the identity thing. On one hand, I get why people wanted him to be Yusei, as in, the actual, real Yusei, who was simply pushed to his limits by a horrid, inescapable future. The sheer amount of angst would have been unparalleled. And it would have posed the very interesting question of just what it would take to push Yusei, our very own protagonist, that far. After all, he's the hero, he's the one preaching hope and friendship even when everyone else has given up on it already. Just the implications alone of a person like Yusei—Yusei—being pushed far enough to become the villain would have been downright cataclysmic. It would have sold the sheer hopelessness of the Meklord future like nothing else. So I get why people wanted it to be true, there's certainly potential there.

But at the same time... I'm not sure I can bring myself to see it. And a lot of that has to do with what canon presents us before the big reveal of Z-ONE's face already. First, there's the fact that it's Yusei. As I said, this is the guy who's all-in on loyalty, hope, and friendship even when nobody else is. It is arguably one of his, if not the defining trait he has. To topple that unwaveringness by implying even he could be pushed to give up on these things... I don't know if it might not have soured his character a bit in some people's eyes. Even if it might have been more realistic, even if it might have been human. Then, there's also the things we get about Z-ONE, as a character, before the reveal. And yes, I concede that's very little, but frankly? It's enough to make him feel like he absolutely couldn't be Yusei to me. Like yes, granted, the unavoidable future of despair™ would have probably changed his personality somewhat, but to that degree? Z-ONE acts nothing like Yusei to me. His tactics in manipulating Sherry, the way he speaks with Aporia during their duel, hell, the sodding Timelords he plays. I mean, sure, obviously they gave him a completely different deck so they could a.) sell more cards and so b.) the reveal could be delayed a little longer for more tension, but something about the idea that Yusei, had he actually been Z-ONE, would have completely abandoned his old deck, kept not even a single card, not even Stardust, or Speed Warrior, or Scrap-Iron Scarecrow, doesn't sit right with me. And that's obviously not touching on the timeline shenanigans that don't quite match up, because Z-ONE's ruined future is implied to be far away enough to exceed Yusei's own lifespan. (Now, if they had actually written Z-ONE to act more like Yusei, and to perhaps, damningly, have kept some of Yusei's cards, I might have been more on board with the idea.)

I don't know, I might be in the minority there, but I think Z-ONE was fine the way he was in canon. We got the shock moment of him possibly being Yusei without delving into either the emotional can of worms, nor the timeline nonsense can of worms that would have come with him actually being Yusei. Z-ONE is an excellent, end-of-show antagonist to me, with or without that extra angst. I don't usually like fakeouts that much, either, but this one, I'll happily tolerate. (Though I would argue the guy could have used just a smidgen more setup and would be even stronger if not for the nonsense worldbuilding of the Meklords. But everyone and their mother who knows my blog knows how I feel about the Meklords, worldbuilding-wise.)

[kujakumai]

Stupidest duel links cheese combo I am running right now:

Necrovalley. Nothing gets out of either graveyard.

Gravekeepers Servant. Opponent must send a card from the top of their deck to the gy every time they attack.

Scrap-Iron Scarecrow. Negates one of your opponent's attacks each turn.

Coffin Seller. Every time your opponent sends a monster to the graveyard, they take 300 damage.

So every single turn, if they want to attack, they have to pay the up front cost of: A) committing to attacking more than once, because one attack will always be negated, B) milling a card for every single attack (including the negated one), knowing that card may be irrecoverable because of necrovalley, and taking 300 damage each time the card turns out to be a monster.

It's cheese. It's mean. It's bullshit. If you combine this consistently with other mill cards (like warm worm or vampire grace) and your opponent isn't prepared for a lot of backrow removal, you can deck them out really efficiently.

[summercourtship]

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter six: karma [part II]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 6355 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one |previous part

“Aren’t scarecrows supposed to be like… nice? Getting rid of birds, helping crops, you know?”

You were sitting in the hallway of a university building you were rarely in, waiting for the door to open to your next class which had been relocated for the day, when a conversation a few feet away from you drifted down to you.

“Maybe it’s ironic? I dunno, he might’ve not come up with it himself. I mean, the mask, sure, but maybe the newspapers came up with his name.”

“Well, I was reading this thread-”

“On Twitter? Or Reddit?”

The silence that followed the girl's question apparently said it all, if the other girl’s disgusted scoff was anything to go off of. Of course, Twitter should be the only source of reliable information.

You rolled your eyes, but kept them trained at your notebook, your hand paused above the paper, any thoughts of writing dashed as you focused on your eavesdropping. You doubted either of them had any information you didn’t already have, especially if the only two sources they could think of were social media sites. But you wished they would just talk about it so you could know if they were even worth eavesdropping on!

“Anyway, I was reading this thread and it pointed out that all of the places he has targeted are Gotham’s largest suppliers of dopamine. He’s even been able to get shipments as they’ve arrived in the harbor, before they’ve gotten to the warehouses.”

No, I know that. Give me something new, something concrete, something else I can look into.

“Maybe he’s just really sad.” Her friend sounded incredibly disinterested. You held back another scoff, because while you hadn’t exactly done the best in your high school chemistry class, you had done enough research now to know that dopamine by itself wasn’t used to increase happiness, even though it was known as the happiness chemical.

“It scares me, though. Anyone stealing chemicals…” Her voice drifted away from you, the girls obviously packed up and started to move away to sit somewhere else in the building, though you’re sure she was going on about Sarin gas attacks or anthrax. The usual examples when people talked about biological weapons and terrorism.

But something she said set off an alarm bell in your brain, the offhand comment she had made about the situation scaring her, something in it reminding you of something else. Only for the thought to be dashed by the loud clang of the door banging against the wall, a stream of students filing out as their class had ended. Quickly, you wrote what she said down on a scrap of paper before ripping it out of the notebook and slipping it into your pocket.

You stood up, putting your notebook back into your bag. You went through your normal classes like you were in a trance, turning in your assignments on time and getting your usual decent grades but never rising above it. No, you were well aware that you were saving your energy and good work ethic for Dr. Crane’s class, even though you didn’t have much to do anymore. It wasn’t like you were doing the assignments and he’d stopped having you grade them two weeks ago.

Well, at least I’ll have Arkham to focus on soon.

It wasn’t necessarily a happy thought, but it was something. The approach of another new chapter in your life was nerve-wracking, especially one that you had no parameters for what to expect. You had no expectations for what the job would be like, due to Jonathan still not giving you much information besides “it’s a secretarial job”. Which would be fine, if you had any outside experience for what that entailed, but your knowledge of receptionist/secretary jobs came purely from film and television, and that’s not saying much.

When you returned home that night, you put the scrap of paper from your pocket on the wall of your living room on the few previously blank feet of space beside the balcony door. You’d felt a bit like a mad woman when you’d started it, but stepping back and looking at the clippings from the newspaper and printed articles, pictures and your handwritten notes gave you a sense of satisfaction you hadn’t felt in a very long time.

In the center of it all, pinned to the wall with a clear thumb tack, was the wrinkled list you’d made the morning after your first encounter with the Scarecrow.

Yes, you’d told Jonathan that you wouldn't look into the Scarecrow. But once the idea had planted itself in your brain, it was impossible to uproot it. At least you hadn’t moved on to the next stage of your research, which you’d been toying around with. You were, admittedly, tired of just scouring the internet and newspapers for information. You wanted to go and find it yourself.

But you held off, having enough self-preservation to keep you safe in your apartment. For now, at least. After all, it was the same urge to find the information yourself and not second-hand that led you to the mayor’s funeral and the election night party at Gotham Square.

You were examining the collage when you noticed out of the window the familiar warm light of the Bat Signal, bright against the dark sky. There was no moon tonight, something you noted passively. They say that the full moon makes people behave weird. But in your experience, it was the new moon that made them bold.

Pulling the thin curtain over the door shut, your mind couldn’t stop itself from wandering to thoughts of the Batman. Mainly, you wondered what he was doing, who he was fighting. Because if the signal was lit, he was surely out there fighting and trying to make Gotham safer, even if it was ultimately a futile effort. If it was lowly criminals like robbers or vandals, or if he was going after a real villain, the kind that would haunt your nightmares. You wondered if he had any encounters with the Scarecrow, what he thought about it all. Surely, he must’ve at least looked into it, stealing chemicals was a big deal, right?

Tugging at the sleeve of your cardigan, you tried to ignore the pit in your stomach as you thought about whether you’d ever see him again.

“I’m applying for an internship at Wayne Enterprises.”

Jonathan’s pen stopped scratching against his paper for a moment before continuing as if it never stopped.

“Why there?” Jonathan didn’t look up from his desk. You were splayed out on one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, your knees hooked over the arm and your head hanging over the other side. You held a book over your face, which wasn’t even one you needed to read for a class. It was a familiar title, one you’d read a few times before and had come to think of as a comfort book.

Jonathan was working on something that he hadn’t felt the need to tell you about, but he hadn’t given you anything else to grade or look over. But since you’d begun to see each other more often outside of a professional context, it felt weird to not attend your office hours with him, even if you had nothing to do.

Hence, your book.

“They had one.” You shrugged, still not looking at him but from the corner of your eye. “And there was one as a records assistant. Personally, I think they’re still scrambling after the Renewal money-laundering shit was blown wide open. I know there’s been a few statements from Bruce Wayne saying that he’s starting from the ground up with that whole project, but who knows how long that’ll take. But the internship would be a good experience, even if my hands aren’t actually getting dirty in the files.”

While you were speaking, Jonathan had put his pen down and shut the folio he was working in with an air of finality before getting out of his chair and crossing around the desk to stand by you.

You rested your book down on your chest, looking up at him.

“Hi.” You smiled. “Are you sure there’s nothing for me to do?”

“I can think of something.”

You swung your legs down from the arm, sitting up properly in the seat. Your book fell to your lap, and you’re not even sure you remembered to mark your place. But, ultimately, it didn’t matter. Because he was right in front of you, looking like a carved statue of a man. Picturesque, unreal.

He plucked the book off of your lap, examining the back.

“I didn’t take you as someone who’d like this kind of book.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises.”

“That you are.” He handed the book back, leaning over you to place it on your lap before bracing himself on the arm of the chair, his face right in front of yours. “So, have you put in your application for this internship?”

“It was due two days ago, so yes.” You looked at his lips but didn’t make any moves.

“I’m a bit disappointed you didn’t ask me to look over it.” He returned the favor.

“You’ve seemed so busy lately, and I didn’t want to add to it.” You shrugged, your voice barely above a whisper. “Besides, it was pretty basic.”

“I see.”

“I’ll let you know if I hear back from them, don’t worry.” You didn’t add that you didn’t think you would hear back, that internships at Wayne Enterprises were highly coveted amongst upperclassmen and recent graduates alike. An internship there could give you powerful connections for the rest of your professional and personal life.

He seemed to sense your resignation about the position, frowning slowly. Whatever bubble that’d been building between you popped, and you were brought back to the reality of the moment- you were in a stuffy office and posed awkwardly in an uncomfortable chair.

“They would be lucky to have you.” He straightened up, moving away from your chair again. “But don’t overload yourself with work.”

“Do you expect Arkham to increase my workload?”

“Not at all. But it is stressful, at times.”

“I’ve been working retail for the past year. I think I can handle it.”

He only smiled, which was a relief because you had meant it as a joke and weren’t sure you could handle a lecture from him right now about how retail was actually nothing like working in an asylum. Not at all.

Because you were just going to be Jonathan’s assistant, the hiring process had been simple. So simple it didn’t quite seem legitimate. But you filled out the same tax forms as all the other jobs you worked, so at least you were employed in the eyes of the IRS. And that was legitimate enough for you.

Scanning over the contract for employment with Arkham, you didn’t miss how it was for one full year of employment. When you’d pointed it out to Jonathan, he simply shrugged and said the asylum was understaffed and needed to ensure they’d have enough people for at least a little while. When you asked if you needed to sign the contract that held you in that job for a year, he said it was non-negotiable. You knew that signing it didn’t mean they would force you to stay at the asylum if you wanted to quit, but it was enough to give you pause.

It meant that you had no easy way out if things should go south, that you couldn’t just up and leave like you had your last job. It would mean actually discussing leaving with Jonathan before you left, the prospect of which was slightly terrifying.

But with Jonathan standing over your shoulder, you quickly got over it and signed.

Taking your papers, Jonathan entered his office, leaving the door open behind him, an obvious invitation to follow. You entered, ignoring the ridiculous feeling that you had just signed over your soul and were now in the Devil's Den.

“I’ll get these returned to the hiring manager later. Today won’t be your first official day here but I’ll give you a more in depth tour of the building than the one you received last time.”

“Right.” You bit your lip. “And when will my first official day be…?”

“We can discuss scheduling when we get back to my office.”

With that, you left his office, passing by the sad desk that would become your new workspace. You already had some vague ideas of what you wanted to do with your area, items and decor to make it seem more home-y.

“Most of the places I will show you are necessary for you to know, at least their locations. If I need you to run papers around the building, it will be important for you to know where exactly you’re going and the most effective way to get there. And Arkham can be a bit… labyrinthine.”

An SAT word, nice. You think it to yourself jokingly, but he was right. The hallway layout of the hospital made no sense, especially not when you considered that these buildings had been renovated so many times in their history which should have made it more accessible rather than less.

“And paperwork will be the main part of your job.”

You walked quickly through the halls, down a single flight of stairs to the main atrium. He brought you through the hall into a large room that was separated into smaller blocks of space by half-walls and windows. On one of the exterior walls were a series of signs, too small and dusty for you to make out from your spot by the entrance of the room. Above all of them, painted on the wall, was the word INTAKE. One of the smaller areas was filled with boxes and clothes hanging on racks. When you passed it, the musty scent of clothes that have been sitting undisturbed for a very long time wafted into the walkway.

“It’s rare but sometimes we do release our patients back into society.”

Staring into the small area, you noticed that a lot of the boxes had undisturbed cobwebs connecting them to each other, that the clothes were full of holes from moths. From the looks of it, no one had been released in a long time.

You continued wordlessly through to the end of the room, not venturing into the interior of the room further. Jonathan simply pointed out where the guard working intake sat, the one currently on duty obviously fighting the urge to fall asleep at his desk.

Jonathan took you to the rec room, which was empty, and the cafeteria, also empty. Both rooms were large and dreary, much what you expected from them, with no lights except for the emergency lights that always stayed on. Both had the lingering smell of mold and something gone sour, whether it was body odor or food. Again, he pointed out where the guards and aides would be stationed when inmates were in the rooms.

You hoped, for your sake, that you would rarely have to step foot into either of the rooms.

As you walked on from the cafeteria, Jonathan wordlessly opened a nondescript door. Inside was a narrow cement stairwell, the metal railing rusting underneath chipped black paint. You turned to go upwards before you realized that Jonathan was already making his way down into the bowels of the asylum. Groaning internally and unable to stop yourself from wondering what exactly you had gotten yourself into, you began to follow him down.

But you couldn’t stop your small groan when he opened the door to the first level of the basement (the rest of the staircase down was blocked off with a metal gate, and when you peered over the edge you only saw the stairs slowly descending into darkness).

The basement of Arkham was initially like the rest of the building. In desperate need for some TLC but still presentable. But as you walked further into its depths, the less maintained it was. The floor became dull with questionable stains while the tiles on the wall were chipped in more places than not. The lights turned from a sterile fluorescent white to a dim yellow, the light bulbs buzzing above your heads as you walked past mysterious metal door after mysterious metal door. A majority of the door’s tiny windows were blocked out, rendering the interior of the room safe from your prying gaze.

“Where exactly are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He turned to look back over his shoulder at you. “Don’t worry.”

Finally, Jonathan stopped in front of a door that was identical to the others you’d passed on your way down here. The metal door creaked as he opened it, revealing a modestly sized office space.

“Here is my second office, the one I take most of my appointments in.”

You walked in, slowly taking in the space.

Oh, this is awful.

It was certainly different from his office upstairs or even his office at the university. This office was smaller, with black file cabinets along one wall, thick binders lined up along the tops. It obviously was a space with a purpose, the chairs in front of the desk worn with barely noticeable grooves from fingernails in the wooden arm-rests.

Looking down, you frowned. On the floor were small scratches, clearly from furniture being moved around and scraping against the tile. Something about them made you uneasy. His entire second office made you uneasy, but maybe it was just the claustrophobia from being below the surface of the island and in a tiny dark room.

Luckily, he also wasn’t eager to linger in the room, allowing you to peer around for a few minutes before opening the door again- it automatically shut behind the two of you- and leading you back into the dim hallway.

“Further down the hallway are Arkham’s records.” Jonathan pointed down the other side of the hallway, which was lit by a singular yellow light that flickered every few seconds. Somewhere in the distance, the ceiling was leaking, an audible drip-drip-drip that gave the entire hallway the smell of stagnant water in addition to the dank, earthy fragrance of mold.

You turned back to Jonathan, eyes lingering on every crack in the cinder-block and the cobwebs on the low ceiling. You’re honestly surprised anyone is allowed down here in the first place, let alone patients. For what it was worth, his office at least didn’t smell as bad as the hallway.

“Do you spend a lot of time down here?”

Jonathan smiled. “Not if I can help it.”

“Good. It’s horrifying.” You truly meant it, even if you smiled as you said it.

“I know.” He smiled back.

He led you back through the hallway, opening the same door into the stairwell. From the other side, it was also identical to every other door.

God I hope I’m never down here alone.

“I have one last thing to show you for today.”

You nodded, before affirming vocally after realizing that he couldn’t see you as you walked up the stairs. You continued past the first floor landing onto the second floor, where his office and your new workspace were located. But when he opened the door, he did not take you in the direction of his office but rather the opposite, into a part of the asylum you hadn’t been yet.

Finally, after a few minutes of silent walking as you took in every inch of your surroundings (even though most of the hallways in Arkham started to blend together, they were all so similar- you didn’t even think you had a good mental map of the layout, it was so confusing at times) he stopped by another metal door.

“You’ll rarely come back here, don’t worry. But there may be the occasional errand that sends you down this way, though I try to do those ones myself.”

Jonathan slid his card into the small keypad by the door, the heavy click of the lock unlatching following as his card exited the slot. Turning the handle, Jonathan pushed the rusted door open to reveal a long line of cells.

“Shit.” You didn’t realize the word escaped your mouth until you saw the quirk of Jonathan’s lip. If he wasn’t about to guide you into one of Arkham’s cell blocks, you might’ve delivered a swift slap to his arm at his blithe reaction to your distress. Might’ve.

As you entered the cellblock, you looked up at the second floor of cells. Large skylights let in the dim natural light of Gotham, though it was lost somewhere in the sterile lighting of the hospital. A thin staircase led up to the catwalks that served as walkways for the upper-level, their grates rusty and in need of a good dusting. But Jonathan walked right past the stairs, so you lowered your gaze and examined the first floor.

The corridor of cells was wide, the walkway separated by a railing. Arrows on the floor indicated which direction you were supposed to walk on each side. At both ends of the block were offices for the guards, their glass windows smudged with fingerprints. The cell doors themselves were made of metal and glass, with thin holes in the door allowing the inmate to speak out into the empty space for no one to hear.

And speak they did. The hallway was filled with the cacophony of voices, some more intelligible than others.

As you looked down the cell block, you saw him.

Edward was waiting by his window, his face pressed against the glass as he watched your slow approach, like he had been expecting you. It would be funny if you weren’t terrified. Not just because of him, but all the other inmates were free to leer at you as you were escorted down their hall, their first entertainment in a long time.

Is this how Clarice felt as she came up on Hannibal’s cage?

You didn’t realize that you had stopped in front of the cell until Jonathan started walking back to you, apparently only just noticing that he was alone. The inmate a few doors down from Edward made a low comment to Jonathan, which he ignored, with the only indication that he had heard him was a quick flick of his piercing eyes to the side.

Edward had taken a step away from the door, no longer pressed against it but still close, staring at you with the same expression as two weeks prior. Like he was smug, though you had no idea what he had to be smug about, especially not when it came to you.

Then he spoke.

“I know you.” His voice was light, conversational. Like his mind was stuck somewhere else and he wasn’t all the way with you. But his words still shocked you, even if you weren’t sure he knew exactly what he was saying.

“What?” You take a step backwards like he’d broken through the glass and slapped you in the face. He wasn’t talking about… “No, I was here a couple of weeks ago, you might’ve seen me then and-”

“No.” His voice was firm, startling you with the sudden change in his demeanor from airy to almost domineering. From disoriented to completely in control of his surroundings. “You were there in City Hall.”

As the words left his mouth, you remembered him, where you’d seen his face before, plain and unassuming as it was. Why hadn’t you placed his face when you’d seen his picture on the news, why had it taken until this moment to remember that you’d seen him before?

“It is karma, really.”

Marie was leaning on the railing, looking down at city hall’s ostentatious interior. You whipped your head around from where you’d also been looking down, but the movement caused you to stumble backwards into the person behind you. You mumbled an apology without even looking back at them, eyes focused on Marie.

“You really shouldn’t be saying things like that at a funeral.”

“You agree with me, you said the exact same thing the other day! You know I don’t care about this shit, you’re the one who’s been talking about it nonstop!”

You inhale sharply, trying to avoid the embarrassment of being around someone so shameless at a funeral, the shame of being ousted like this in public. Though you're sure no one was actually listening to your conversation.

“But you shouldn’t talk about it like that at the funeral of the guy!”

“You didn't have to drag me here.”

You furrowed your brows, suddenly more annoyed than you wanted to admit. You asked her to come because you were nervous. Nervous about the direction your paper was taking, about how it seemed to be morphing into a project based around the criminal and not the victim.

“It's for my project! Besides, I didn’t want to come al-”

Someone cleared their throat behind you, the same person who you’d knocked into. You looked back at them, realizing it was just an ordinary guy, a tense but polite smile on his face. There was no other way to describe him. Taller than you, but not in a way that was intimidating. The kind of man your eyes would slide right over on the street. Background noise.

“Am I in your way?” Why did you ask that? It was a general attendance, standing room only event for the public. You arrived three hours ago to get to this spot. He should have planned better if he wanted a better view. But still, you moved to the side, giving him space to look at the memorial.

“Thanks.” He muttered, shuffling past you to the railing. Marie gave you a wide eyed look, as if to say that you were a fool for moving from your spot, or at least that the guy was a weirdo. You returned with your own exasperated stare, tired of her judging someone she’d never met.

“You’re too nice to people.” She muttered, a bit too loud if the turn of the man’s head was anything to go off of. You shushed her, resisting the urge to apologize to the man. Maybe he just liked the mayor and wanted to pay his respects (doubtful, but you never know).

And then you completely forgot about the entire encounter moments after you found another spot to squeeze yourself along the railing. If other things hadn’t happened that day, maybe you would’ve thought back on it as a missed meet cute, but you were quickly distracted by the DA’s appearance in a collar bomb and the chaos that followed as you were escorted out of the building and told to go home.

No, you didn’t even remember the man when his face was on the news, his photo plastered on the screen with the headline RIDDLER APPREHENDED AND IN CUSTODY.

“Oh my god.”

“Karma, right?” He cocked his head to the side and a shiver ran down your spine at the thought of him listening to the conversation that you’d had- about him, no less, when he’d been at the scene of the funeral to watch the chaos that he’d planned unfold.... “How’d that project go?”

“I never-“ you stopped yourself, remembering that he didn’t need to know you never turned it in, that the anarchy that he caused at Gotham Square Garden put you in such a state you didn’t want to leave your apartment for fear of being shot at, targeted by faceless monsters in the night. That the only reason you passed the class was because you were lucky enough your professor was understanding and pulled some strings with the weight of other assignments. Besides, even if you had finished it and were able to turn it in, it would’ve been insensitive considering that it was about the terrorist who'd just attacked the city. “It’s really none of your business.”

Edward stared at you for a moment, unblinking, before the smile slid off of his face, his attention diverted somewhere down the corridor. You’re too busy watching him to realize what he was looking at, but his eyes slowly return to you, his eyebrows raised.

“What has a long neck, a name of a bird, feeds on ships' cargo, but is not alive?”

For a moment, his words didn’t sink in. When they did, you groaned internally. A riddle? You were well aware that it was his thing but you didn’t expect to actually be given one. Really, you never expected to be having a conversation with him like this.

Still, you wracked your brain for the answer, watching Edward watch you figure it out while looking at whatever caught his attention down the cell block. You realized the answer just as Jonathan returned to your side, his arrival obviously what Edward was watching.

A crane.

“Edward.” Jonathan placed his hand on the small of your back, a movement that Edward obviously noticed. His eyes dragged from where they’d been switching between you and Jonathan to where his hand was hidden behind your back. You could feel the chill of Jonathan’s palm through your thin shirt and cardigan. Jonathan gave Edward your name, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “This is my new assistant.”

You whipped your head around, giving Jonathan a wide eyed look. Why the hell would he introduce you?

Edward repeated your name. Slowly. Drawn out. Like he was testing how the individual sounds formed on his tongue before he put them together to create your name.

“We’ve met before.”

Jonathan was quiet. You could feel his eyes on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Edward’s cell.

“I wouldn’t call that meeting.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t.” He was smug again, and you knew that there was something else he wasn’t telling you, that you were missing a piece of the puzzle. And then you had a sinking, suffocating, drowning feeling that you did, actually, know what it was (though it was more of an embarrassment than anything but it could certainly cause more of a stink in your life than you’d like if it was revealed).

The man in the cell beside Edward laughed, high and reedy, cutting through the cacophony of noise the other inmates created.

You finally turned to Jonathan.

“Can we leave now?”

Jonathan gave you a quick nod, not looking at Edward or any of the other inmates as he turned and began to lead you back down to the other exit of the cell block.

As you left, before you could stop yourself, you looked back at him. He was watching you leave, his hand raised in what might’ve been a goodbye wave. You didn’t return it, content to simply turn back around and ignore him.

“He remembered me.” You whispered as you left the cell block, more to yourself than to Jonathan, your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to figure out why.

“He remembers everything. It stops being impressive when you realize how much of it is useless.” Jonathan responded as if you had been having a decent conversation and he hadn’t just overheard what you whispered to yourself.

Despite yourself, you bristled at his tone. Both at the implication that Edward was wasting his time remembering everything (like he could help it) and that once again, Jonathan was reminding you that you were unimportant in the grand scheme of Gotham.

“I’m sure it was important to him.”

“You shouldn’t feel bad for him.” He turned to look at you, stopping in the middle of the hallway. A nurse scoffed and rolled her eyes as she had to reroute herself around the two of you, her clogs smacking against the floor. “Do I need to remind you that everyone here is a criminal? These aren’t just people with mental illness. These are rapists and murderers, sadistic pieces of work that don’t deserve your pity. Don’t try to humanize them.”

“I’m not-“ You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to remember what he’d done. That Jonathan was right and you shouldn’t feel bad about how Jonathan spoke to or about him. It stung, but you pushed your apprehension down. “Will I have to see the patients often?”

“Rarely.” But as he said it, he looked away from you, turning and continuing to walk down the hallway, and you didn’t find yourself too confident in his response. Still, you began walking with him again.

Realistically, you shouldn’t see the inmates ever. You shouldn’t have even been allowed in the cell block today. But you, and everyone else with a brain in Gotham, were well aware that Arkham Asylum was severely underfunded, even with charitable donations from people like Bruce Wayne. Portions of the Renewal fund were supposedly allotted for the hospital, but obviously that was no longer the case now that Bruce Wayne was overhauling that whole system.

You wondered, briefly, who or what the money was funneled to instead.

Either way, with the hospital not having enough funds to ensure there was enough staff in the hospital at any given time, you’re sure that you would end up being shoved somewhere you weren’t qualified for just so the ratio of patients to supervisors was intact. And, despite yourself, underneath the fear you had about the prospect was excitement.

Jonathan stopped at his office again.

“How did you meet him before?”

“Oh.” You winced, embarrassed that Edward had felt the need to mention it again. “I guess we ran into one another at the mayor’s funeral. I’d forgotten all about it until he mentioned it. It wasn’t the sort of encounter that sticks with you.”

“I’d assumed as much.”

“But I also-“ You stopped yourself, unsure if you wanted to continue. But Jonathan had been moving as you’d spoken, and appeared to not have heard you. Taking it as a sign, you kept your confession inside, though it was burning in your mind.

But I also found my way into one of his streams and I think he knows it.

“I’ll have to come back up here but I can take you to your apartment.”

Your bag was slung over one shoulder, your phone clutched in the opposite hand. You had no notifications, which wasn’t too unusual, but you did note the lack of reliable service in the asylum, even as you were walking out of the doors. You’d expected to be required to lock your phone away but if there was a requirement, Jonathan hadn’t told you about it. Still, you had kept it in your bag the entire day, which in turn was locked in Jonathan’s office while you were out touring the building.

“Are you sure?”

“How else would you get home?”

Briefly, you reflected on the fact that you had accepted a job on an island when you didn’t currently own a car. Jonathan had, of course, been seemingly happy to offer to be your ride every day and yet it had you feeling… trapped. But you shook it off, reminding yourself that this job was a good opportunity and having a car in Gotham was more trouble than it was worth.

“You’re right.” Though your question had been meant to see if he really had to come back after taking you home. But you also were well aware that Jonathan had more work at the asylum and it wasn’t the kind you could just shirk off if you weren’t feeling like doing it.

Outside, the day was bright even though the clouds covered the sun. You could tell that it was going to rain later from the ominous clouds in the distance but it was blessedly dry as you walked through the employee parking lot to Jonathan’s car.

As you sat in the passenger seat of Jonathan's car, you looked at his slender neck, thinking back to the riddle Edward had given you earlier.

What has a long neck, the name of a bird, feeds on ships' cargo, but is not alive?

Obviously, it meant the machines, which were littered around Gotham as beacons for abandoned projects and attempts at bettering the city, not Jonathan himself. But two out of the four applying to him was a bit humorous, though you’d never tell Jonathan that.

You leaned over the railing of your balcony/glorified fire escape, your phone pressed against your face as you listened to one…two…three rings. Even worse, the person you were calling picked up and you scrambled mentally, trying to remember what you had wanted to say.

“Hi, Marie?” You couldn’t stop tapping the fingers of your unoccupied hand against the railing. “It’s me. Yeah…. Me.” You sighed, a bit lamely. Exactly how should you come back into someone’s life after over a year of radio silence?

“It’s nice to hear from you but… why?” She sounded wary, and you didn’t blame her. After Gotham Square Garden, you had shut her and your other friends out, trying to cope with the sudden increase of your anxiety without involving them. It had seemed noble at the time, but by the time you realized the damage that isolating yourself from your support system had done, it felt like it was too late.

You faltered for a moment in your resolve to tell her about your discovery, that the two of you had met the Riddler and not realized it, afraid that it would seem the past year of your life was only defined by him and that night.

Which it had been, at least until it became defined by Dr. Jonathan Crane.

“I hope it‘s not too late to fix some burned bridges.”

Marie chuckled, though there wasn’t much humor in it. But it wasn’t mean, and that’s all that mattered.

“It’s never too late.” She said. Even though she could be brash and horribly unsentimental, you were glad you called her first.

“Do you want to get coffee sometime?”

next part

[maxisanangrywell]

AZRAEL'S WING {Intro}

Obligatory Trigger Warnings: Blood, Gore, Horror, Body Horror. Semi-Inaccurate Medical Information. Murder. Suicide. Cannibalism. Violence. Loss/Grief. PTSD/Trauma. Food Insecurity. Emotional Distress. Mental Health Struggles. Social Isolation. Political Oppression. Attempted Genocide. Disruption of Normalcy. Child Labor. I mean, the list can go on, this is what I imagine would happen if the government basically turned against it's citizens and tried to kill them all, but failed and now people are trapped due to rampant viruses and disease.

If any of the above makes you even slightly uncomfortable, then this series is NOT for you. This is a DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. For that reason, if you're a minor, please do not read this series. THIS IS PURELY FICTION, ANY LIKENESS TO ANY REAL WORLD EVENTS IS ACCIDENTAL.

Linked below is a document purely made for this Tumblr series. It's for people to be able to go back and reference it, and learn a little about the world the characters have found themselves in. This is all original lore I have written for a novel I have scrapped, so I hope you all enjoy.

Life flickers across the screen, a young man is sitting in a room with three men sleeping behind him. His hair is shaggy, and a dark charcoal color. His eyes, unlike his appearance, are bright and filled with the smallest spark of hope. The boy couldn't have been more than 19. His green eyes look over the camera he was using for the recording, his hands are held out, soft palms turned calloused, as if it was to catch the camera if it fell. "Okay, I think... I think it's working." He sighs, and sits backwards slowly, putting his hands in his lap as he looks at the camera, his eyes glazing over in thought. This was obviously poorly planned. "I am Hesh Walker, and I am apart of the Seraphims of Xalar. This is a video to the world. We're alive. The government, they turned against us. They're denying us food, water, shelter, medicine... the list can go on." Hesh takes a deep breath, breath hitching on a choked sob. The video gets cut as he reaches forwards, frantically grabbing the camera. The next video, is a video of a forest. Hesh sitting on a stump of a chopped tree as he looks into the camera. "Okay, take two. I am David Walker, son of Elias Walker, the Scarecrow." He seems more confident, takes a slower inhale than before. "I am a leader within a group of survivors of the Collapse. We're being led by a man by the name of Ghost." He lets out a soft laughter. "Ironic, really..." He mutters under his breath. "We are a group of survivors well within the hundreds. We have women, men and children. We require immediate extraction. The government has turned their backs against their people." Hesh looks down, wringing his hands in a subtle display of discomfort and even nervousness. "I don't want to die here." The final video, is a masked man with Hesh's eyes looking at the camera. He's sitting at a table in front of a window, the sun must have been setting, because it was getting darker outside, but the sky was still holding on a semblance of light. Dark storm clouds were in the distance, as the man sat in the chair. His emotions were unreadable from the mask, but the way his arm laid haphazardly on the table, his legs spread in a way to take up too much space, the man was more than comfortable where he was. With who he was. Smoke bellows out from the mask. He must have taken a drag of a cigarette before this. "This is Michael, a Seraphim Leader of Xalar." The man starts, leaning forwards, his arms coming to rest on his knees, hands clasped together. "This is a message to the world. The United States have fallen. Dust and rubble is what remains. Xalar, is all what remains on the East Coast. We have set up a farm, and partially rebuilt an entire city while you all have done nothing. You all watched the lights go out and the people go silent, and have not even bothered to send any sort of transmission to ask what has happened." The man scoffs incredulously, shaking his head in what seems to be disbelieving anger. "Some of the very best PMC and military personnel have been trapped in this special slice of hell, waiting for someone to come extract us and the civilians we have been protecting. It has become clear to us that the rest of you will not be coming for us." The man leans forwards, his eyes narrowing, voice dropping to a dangerous tone full of promise. "So when we rise from the ashes, don't bother asking help from us. This is my official resignation from the Special Operatives team called The Ghosts. Michael, over and out."

[cutecipher]

Yu-gi-oh tip: no one can stop you from running 3 of scrap iron scarecrow

[baddyzarc]

This duelist sacrificing their Supreme King Dragon Zarc solely to get rid of SCRAP IRON SCARECROW was the most hilarious thing I’ve seen in awhile like

Burak to Zarc after getting Scarecrow’d twice (2)

[cog5]

January - The Sewers, Area 2C

#dungeon23

20. The Cloaked Sentry

A towering figure hunches upon the isolated platform, leaning heavily on a large halberd. A medley of scrap metal protrudes from its back and shoulders. Thick layers of tattered cloth billow across the gaunt form, occasionally exposing a trio of florid masks, each gazing in a different direction.

The sentry is immobile, a scarecrow, more or less. 4-in-6 chance it is mechanised and can rotate, scream and shudder. The moment someone gets close, it will release the halberd like an executioner’s axe.

21. West Mole-folk Nest

A room, aptly dug into the bedrock. Three small beds line the back wall. Collections of found objects are piled into small nooks that have been carved into the stone surface.

Suspended in the center of the room, fastened within a socket, a shard of crystal glows softly. It radiates with noticeable warmth.

1D3 Mole-folk will be fast asleep here.

22. East Mole-folk Nest

A room, deftly dug into the bedrock. Two beds, separated from each other. A large makeshift cabinet leans against one wall, filled with a variety of tools, useful for electrical and mechanical repair.

Suspended in the center of the room, fastened within a socket, a shard of crystal flickers intermittently. A noticeable warmth radiates with each pulse.

1D2 Mole-folk will be fast asleep here.

23. The Pond

A reservoir of still, dark liquid pools here. Water. Mostly. Its smell is somewhat sweet, a relief from the sour smell of the sewer outside.

A large stone forms an uncomfortable island further into the basin. Upon it, an ancient member of the Mole-folk sits. Their technical knowledge is vast, though they can’t be bothered to share any of it.

1D3 Mole-folk will be relaxing or swimming in the pond.

24. Dining Room

A room, skillfully dug into the bedrock. A large wooden table, surrounded by chairs. A small kitchen is carved further back into the chamber, filled with cooking implements and neatly stacked casks of preserves. A chandelier of glowing, crystal shards is suspended in the center of the room. Its heat is immense.

Sprawled out on the table is (1D2):

1. A feast of worms and insects, recently collected from The Cliffs

2. The inanimate chassis of a Brain-Can Automaton, partly dissected

1D4+1 Mole-folk will be here, engaged in conversation.

25. The Vault

A heavy, iron door. Locked. The room is lined with refined stone, claimed from collapsed walls found throughout the sewers.

An assortment of crates are amassed here. They contain salvaged electrical and mechanical components, recovered schematic printouts in various states of legibility, and a small number of stabilised crystal shards.

The Mole-folk are dubious of technology, only using enough to survive. Anything they deem “advanced”, they dismantle and lock away inside the vault.

[accelsynchros]

action memes ( accepting )  › 🛡️   - for my muse to protect yours from harm .  › @stardustxmiracle 

“ yusei- ” 

the entire situation feels like it’s going in slow motion, and bruno can do nothing to stop it- it’s not supposed to work like that. yusei isn’t supposed to be the one shielding him from harm- it’s the other way around, isn’t it? and yet ... 

( yusei saved him before- no, yusei had saved him time and time again. yusei’s hand reaching for his. yusei pushing him out of the way of falling rubble. yusei tending to the cuts and bruises. 

yusei, who shed tears when ... 

that one had truly been antinomy’s fault. a desperate plan that ended in a horrible crash. yusei saved him then, too. every time something went wrong, yusei was there- Z-ONE was there. Z-ONE, the hero of legend, yusei fudo. wasn’t it time for him to return the favor? wasn’t that the promise he made? wasn’t that his mission? to protect yusei as yusei had protected him! )

“ yusei! ” time starts again and bruno moves faster than he can really process, and yusei... yusei will be fine, because bruno is steady on his feet ( steadfast, stubborn, and how many times had he been scolded for that? so long as he stood on his own two feet, he would walk the path that he believed to be right-! 

isn’t this the most important time to show the world the right way to use synchro summon?  

it comes as a shock, the ban on synchros, because that had been the proof of humanity’s evolution. synchro summon had been all vanni had ever known; it was what team delta was known for! and to be told that it had been made illegal? and for what? 

steadfast, stubborn, stupid vanni chooses not to listen to his manager. the machine emperors lay waste to the city. 

       was i wrong? 

granel’s cannon is pointed at his face. had it really been synchro summon that had caused all of this? this death, death of his friends, death of his beloved- and now his own. a cannon fires, and he does not die. 

yusei fudo has saved him. ) 

from the looks of it, yusei will be fine- although he didn’t need to take that hit- bruno had been hit plenty of times; from the first day he’d met yusei, he’d already been taking hits- jack’s right hook was far in the past, but a vivid memory. “ you’re so reckless! taking hits like that- but ... you really wanted to make sure i didn’t get hurt- ” yusei didn’t need to know all of the hurt bruno already carried- and yusei had no idea how many times he’d already given bruno hope. all the ways he had not done so- and all the ways he would in times to come-

( they duel on a starlit road, and in the blinding light, antinomy tries to focus on anything but the way his stomach twists in knots, how his heart pounds, how he knows- he knows! if he does this right, he’ll never see yusei again. he wants to see yusei. he wants to fail and he wants to save the future, and for that, he has to succeed in this. for that, he has to lose. 

if you don’t draw three tuners, you’ll be pulled into that dead star- it’s a place that even light can’t escape from! 

the first card. tuner monster, turbo synchron. the second card. scrap-iron scarecrow.  the third card. tuner monster, nitro synchron-  the fourth card. shield wing. 

antinomy is terrified of death. of what will happen when yusei performs this miracle- he knows yusei will perform a miracle! 

the fifth card. tuner monster, hyper synchron. 

shooting star dragon overpowers t.g. halberd cannon. there’s the sound of something shattering, and yet, antinomy still looks at yusei in that rose-colored light. stupid, infatuated, desperate. 

i wanted to teach you delta accel synchro- you’re my hope! go! yusei! ) 

bruno’s haunted by all the times he’s succeeded, and all the times he’s failed- and all the things he has not done, but will one day- one day, there will be sorrow, and yusei will not be able to save him, but for now? 

for now, yusei has saved him again, and bruno holds on a little tighter.

[thewittyphantom]

This thread about made-up/misunderstood card effects is fun. Some of them would be really neat!

https://www.reddit.com/r/yugioh/comments/tjcxt9/whats_the_dumbest_effect_you_thought_up_on_a_card/

“I thought you can use Scrap-Iron Scarecrow infinite times.”

“He had a card that he called King of the thousand hands, which was Senju of the thousand hands, and a more female looking one that he called Queen of the thousand hands, i believe that this was also senju, just with a different artwork. My brother told me that if king and queen are on the field they create the "kingdom of the thousand hands" which had 0 atk and 10000 def“

“I thought you had to draw a maze when you played labyrinth wall, and play it out like the anime.“

“My brother and i believed that La Jinn had a effect to make 3 wishes, because of the legends. We take out "win the game" wish because it was unfair, so, the wishes were around buying cards, destroying cards or making special summons.“

[synchlora]

the raven 'joy

[astro-b-o-y-d]

What if I...

Wizard of Oz OCs...

[fellwar-finch]

Awhile back I asked the question “what would kalin Kessler use in commander” because I’m in love with the character but the way infernities play in yugioh is representative of my issues with the modern game: 15 minute turns that lock the opponent out of playing. So now that I’m trying to drop yugioh as a game as a whole I present: what commander decks would Yugioh 5ds characters use!

Starting with kalin/kiryu

Because he’s the first one I came up with! For awhile I thought he’d use Kroxa, titan of death’s hunger.

A discard theme on an elder giant that can resurrect from the graveyard? Yes please. But then I considered. What is kiryu kyosuke without the handless combo? It’s represented his single-minded devotion to revenge, his trashing of his previous ideals, his reliance on nothing but fate as he waits for the duel he lived by to kill him, and later his acceptance of the situation he’s in and the life he’s lived. (He uses the same ‘gamble the duel on chance’ strategies in his final duel with yusei and lotton as mindgames, uses the deck he once wanted to die by to live instead. The way he uses words in that duel reminds me a lot of the politics inherent in edh) The handless combo has always represented losing possibilities and options for certainty. Throwing away the future, letting go of the past, living in the present. And there’s no commander that represents that as well as Malfegor.

I still believe kroxa should be in the 99, but this is kiryu’s commander. The handless combo at home in this new game.

Next is the next one I’m certain about.

Aki/Akiza would play Ulasht the Hate Seed.

Not only is ulasht fitting with her plant theme, but dealing damage to the board by tearing yourself apart is what her ace, the black rose dragon, is meant to do. The ‘destruction as a coping mechanism, at the cost of yourself’ fits with ulasht, but so does the support group she gains throughout the series. Ulasht grows stronger and more versatile as you control more and more creatures, a mirror to the player in question.

There isn’t a one-to-one comparison to black rose’s ability to switch monsters from defense to attack because battle positions don’t exist in magic, but I suppose the ability to transition between going tall with ulasht and going wide with saprolings could fit there. Maybe. Honestly this one is mostly aesthetic.

Yusei Fudo:

Okay this one was hard. Yusei’s deck is a weird mishmash of weak monsters that can work together to synchro summon higher level ones, it’s fundamentally difficult to find a parallel without synchro summoning. I considered tokens or allies, but neither feel quite right. So I went back to the drawing board. What colours would yusei use.

Yes. All of them. He’d just play what he can find. There are no useless cards. Perhaps najeela? No, too aggressive. Perhaps slivers? Nope, too cohesive. Perhaps the reaper king? Aesthetic is close but he wouldn’t play a tribal deck, his only scarecrow is the scrap iron one. And then I found it.

Party. A way to make weak cards with no synergy work together. And then the similarities started pouring in. “Beacon of unity”, yusei United the satellite and the city, his like,,, whole shtick is unity. Party mechanic. If you have four creatures of specific types you get a benefit, the four signers (but there are five signers, I hear you say. Yes. There are. But the fifth was a secret for the majority of season 1 and ended up as the final antagonist, so there were only ever four signers on the same team… for awhile). Could also mean assembling the other four signers together, as he did. Mono white with an activated ability of each other colour. Yusei’s fundamentally moderate. He doesn’t want conflict, to the point he’s willing to ally with cops who once tried to kill him to face off against a new threat. I feel his natural colour identity falls somewhere in naya, but definitely very white-aligned.

And finally, the master of faster, who rules the duels, the king of turbo dueling himself. Jack Atlas.

…was really difficult.

He’s mono red or red/black, that much is obvious. He destroys stuff on board, easy. He uses dragons, of course. The card that fits most with him is balefire dragon. Done and done

…But balefire dragon isn’t legendary. Boardwipes on legs then. Massacre girl, no. Malfegor, no. Rakdos the showstopper? No.

Dragons, then! Kolaghan, not destructive enough. Blackwing? Focused on resurrection, that’s a no. Lathliss? He doesn’t play a lot of dragons, just a big voltron one.

I feel like there are three options for Jack atlas in commander. One: rule zero so balefire can be your commander. Two: a hidden commander balefire deck with Zirilan or Bladewing at the helm. Three: Inferno of the Star Mounts.

I feel none of these really capture the feel of Jack atlas perfectly, but each have their merits.

Jack’s a tournament player, I don’t feel he’d use any house rules, but also his whole ideal is ‘do things that nobody else does’ there was no king before him, he made that title his. He dueled the devil and trapped him in a trading card to wield his power. He could make the tournament scene bend to his will and embrace balefire as a commander. And if they didn’t? Well, zirilin can just fetch it from deck and he could play a bunch of protection for it, bladewing has access to tutors and grave recursion in black. Either could work as a hidden commander deck for balefire. And Inferno hits hard and fits the voltron strategy, but doesn’t have the sheer destructive power of balefire dragon.

If any of y’all have any ideas on what Jack atlas or any other character in 5ds might play, feel free to add em on!

[dynam-patron-of-good-decisions]

Heartfelt.

TW: Descriptions of gore. 

Part one of my hopefully ongoing series of abnormality interactions. This mainly features the Warm-Hearted Woodsman, Scarecrow Searching for Wisdom, and Heart of Aspiration, some of the goriest abnormalities within their lore, so just keep that in mind. With that all said and done, let’s get on with this

The woodsman ripped out a mass of flesh and organs from the tree it had felled, and placed it into its chest. It’s iron chest was almost full to bursting, and as it was now mostly alone, decided to remove some of the unneeded scraps from its chest, fitting room for more hearts. As it always did during its offtime, it sat and thought.

“What Is Love Exactly?” The woodsman pondered to itself. It was searching for it, it knew it wanted a heart to feel it, but what exactly was it? Maybe it was a break from the monotonous routine, in which case it loved breaching. Maybe it was a warm feeling in your chest, and emotion you can’t quite place, spomething that draws you to another for a reason you can’t comprehend, but know is good. In that case it would have to spend more time with the scarecrow currently sucking the heads of certain employees dry. Not that that would be a bother to it, it enjoyed the scarecrow’s company more every time it saw him. They’d even moved his containment next to it’s own, which they say helped reduce breaches. Didn’t matter to it, it just got to spend time with the scarecrow more.

As the woodsmen looked aimlessly around the facility, one area snapped it out of it’s thoughts. A containment area the scarecrow was standing in front of, and attempting to parse out the words. “Heart...of...Aspiration... Yeah I think I got it! Hey Tinman, you can read, did I get this right?” The woodsman stood up and lumbered over to the scarecrow. Despite the woodsman’s size and power, the scarecrow had still given it a nickname, and the woodsmen had almost felt something in its metal shell when it first heard it. Every time after that the feeling got stronger. “Yes Scarecrow, You Got It Right.”

The woodsman moved the scarecrow back with its hand, and brought its axe upon the door swiftly. It was barely thinking. It had heard heart, and it wanted it for itself. The scarecrow watched, as the door finally splintered, and the woodsman had greedily grabbed the beating, bloodied heart and shoved it carelessly in its chest.

What happened next was unimaginable. The woodsman felt a surge of power and emotion corse through him. “This Is Love.” It said, as the heart and the heartless were now bound together. “So, at least one of us got what we wanted.” The scarecrow laughed, and the woodsman undeniably felt something within him. “I Was Wrong, This, This Is Love.” “Huh? Well, we’ve got more agents to kill, c’mon Tinman, still wanna crack skulls?” The scarecrow beckoned, walking away from the containment. “That Would Be Fun.” Said the woodsman, walking alongside him.

[galesh]

Wish fulfillment au of Severus who was born in Albus' Dumbledore's time. I just wanted to post it as a reply on a discord server but then it got out of hand. So

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

- Two clever swots duking it out... in academics!

- Debating each other of old spells and whether or not they're dark and the librarian jinxing them out of the library with hexes for being too loud

- Albus and Sev rubbing their stung bums and arguing about the hexes the librarian used

- Albus and Sev both discovering they're poor halfbloods and railing against the arswholes in charge who think they can sting their bums and get away with it

- Them stinging each other's bums because it's a fascinating body part and maybe rubbing them with a different set of hands because maybe it'll help, and they're experimental

-Albus viewing the fascinating kid with so much dark potential with new eyes.

-Sev keeping an eye out for the twinkly eyed twit because it's unnerving, really, and because he always found the goodness in others fascinating. He doesn't believe he can emulate it, but maybe some would seep through him in osmosis. That's what that muggle book said anyway

- His ma always said he had a thing for redheads. He's starting to suspect her of practicing black magic

- Albus and Sev working on potions and transfig together because none of them can tell the other they're bloody brilliant and that they're fascinated, and could we just get to stinging bums and rubbing out the soreness please

- Sev visiting the Dumbledore's on summer break because his father is dead and his mother as good as, meeting the creepy girl creature because he's nosy and of course he'd look at the one room Kendra told him not to

- Abe running to Ariana's room because she screams bloody murder. It's only when he gets there that he realises that that bloody snake they let into their house is being accosted by a happily shrieking Arianna who wants to meet this strange new black haired scarecrow her brother likes

- The older one

- Sometimes, Arianna suspects

- Sev being horrified by Ariana's sad tale, and not wanting her to waste away, working with Albus to make sure she can get out

- Abe (begging to) help them because he really wants to, and because he doesn't trust the snake

- Sev learns Abe can't bloody spell after the third time.he has to squint if the bottle has fluxweed or filchweed (Dyslexia is not recognised yet, but it will be, in the muggle world) amd tries to help. It's more insulting than helpful, but he tries!

- Albus feverishly searching for a way to fix what those muggle boys and their mother's imprisonment and his neglect have wrought. Searching in the darkest grimoires, because really, what is honor and goodness if it can't even help his sister?

- Ariana getting her father's silver signet, carved with the runes of protection, family, forgiveness and renewal. They can't fix her magic, but the magic she once loved has caused her loved ones only harm, and really, it's time to stop listening to the voice inside her, who wants to rip her mother to shreds and burn the whole world down

- In the end it's abe, who comforted her when her mum looked at her with hate and Albus ashamed who puts her ring on as she says the words the runes describe. It's hard to forgive her mother and those muggle boys, but Arianna thinks they've suffered enough (it'll be years later that she realises that she left one person, but as she watches her daughter's delightful coo as she Dan's her nose with a glowing goden finger, she is only thankful that her lack of forgiveness didn't take all her magic away).

- She kisses her brother-in-law to be on the cheek, as is only proper for a member of family.

(Ariana has a very feeble grasp on social niceties. She tries, okay! You try learning everything from books while trapped in a cottage like a demented princess, with a brother who even she knows has an unhealthy fascination with goats who'd talk to her normally)

(Arianna's husband and her daughter, who she names Severus --because every universe must have a second child with a severusly controversial name -- would really come to fear her social skills, or lack thereof. Severus blames her godfather and her uncle with a the raging hate of a 10 year old who's been denied Uncle Sev's sweets)

- Sev and Albus competing for the top spot in the classes with professors and the bottom in the classes without

- Albus meeting Gellert in the evening he's supposed to leave for France and noticing the same dark charm. Severus noticing, but wanting to taint it than emulate it

- A black owl pooping on Gellert's golden hair because he Does Not Share!

- Albus sharing his plans to Change The World which would kill a girl with beautiful, uncontrolled magic and put a vengeful father in a prison of his own despair

- Sev agreeing to them and adding some rather inventive and cruel revenges he'd have on the Wankers who disowned his mother for following her heart

- Albus crossing out those points with eyes that twinkle in gentle admonishment, because really Severus, where would you even get a fully grown basilisk, and ignoring the calculating glitter he gets in return

- Abe following the idiots because Ari orders him to help the idiots and he can deny her nothing

- Gellert becoming a Light wizard after being at the wand end of a particularly dark spell (they teach *that* at Hogwarts, the light school!?!?!?!?) By a vengeful gargoyle after he drunkenly kisses*Bruder* Dumbledore

(years later, Headmaster Dippet can't figure out why his newest Dada teacher is so militant about students knowing everything about Dark magic and why some magics should never be studied, or why flinches everytime he sees a mistletoe. He has enough experience at 300 Not To Ask)

- Albus learning the most beautiful healing spell at the hands of a scowling-dark-phoenix with moist, angry black eyes after the 12th use of a dragon's claw soon after he discovered the 12th use of their blood

(Fawkes could never forgive Severus Snape for stealing it's thunder. Also he smells owl. They're the worst!)

-Severus stealing the Flamels' thunder by creating a philosophers stone after being at their home for a month.

(Perenelle suspects it's because Nicholas, who can be really old fashioned about these things, forbade their apprentice and that brilliant boy with no thoughts from rooming together)

- Severus lacing Albus' lemon drops with the elixir of life because clearly, that imbecilic martyr thinks dragon claw wounds are amusing

- Albus lacing Severus' tea with it because it would be such a horrible thing to live alone

(or without the one person who matters, no offence to his family. Oh, alright Abe, you're definitely not it!)

(the elixir of life prepared yearly mysteriously dissappears into tea and lemon drops. Albus stops worrying over Severus getting killed by vampires while he gets their teeth in exchange of galleons like a demented tooth fairy, and Severus stops worrying about Albus getting nicked by antsy Dragons or Phoenixes or Nifflers, or whoever Albus scraps with in his spare time)

- Albus putting his demented convoluted plans in motion by destroying wizarding currency through inflation. It somehow leads to a goblin revolution, equal rights for magical creatures, and the adoption of muggle currency. Don't ask

(Rumour has it that Gellert, Wizarding Britain's champion one look at the the scowling face of a Severus Snape and proposes negotiations.

Muggle currency was great, really. Made mathematical sense, easier to handle, and twinkly eyed not quite evil overlords can't dependably reproduce all the identifiers. They hope

Quite coincidentally, as Severus will assure you, all the pureblood families --including the Princes, coincidentally-- lose all their accumulated money in the resulting changeover.)

- Albus rules everything from behind the iron curtain with gentle fists and an open smile. Everyone learns to agree with him because behind him stands the spectre of DEATHOMgWatdidyoudo that you want to always keep happy)

- An excited Tom Riddle learns about magic from a charming Professor who's really interested in how he speaks, and who agrees that muggles are awful but keep it down will you?

- Tom Riddle learns to confide in and trust the person who introduced him to the magical world; and tells him when he accidentally discovers the chamber of secrets while hissing open at one of the taps in the girls loo that just wouldn't dispense water (he was under a lot of pressure okay! No, he's not a creep!)

- Tom Riddle grows up to be a politician with a particularly hard view on those muggles. Being backed by the Headmaster of Hogwarts helps. The society has made great strides in the concept of equality and democracy however, and most creatures really don't like him for some insane reason. Albus Dumbledore wins the elections by a landslide again. Tom is tenacious, and plots for when he'd get the position after the old man dies

(On his deathbed, Professor Emeritus of Hogwarts, Professor Tom, curses todgy old men with unnaturally long lifespans)

-Harry Potter, who grew up loved and a headmaster who didn't want to train him in any way, shape, or form (Harry was glad. Headmaster Grindenwald was nice and all, but he really didn't want to know all about the Dark arts and why not to use them kplzthnx). He went on to work at the ministry because his mother instilled in him values of fairness, kindness, and Get Out The House And Go To Work You Bum!

(He named

- Ariana's first kid is named after Abe. Her second is called Severus. Severus being a girl, never forgives her, and years later, when her son is born, names him Ariana with a vindictive gleam in her eyes.

(Ariana never really learned a the social niceties. They're horribly ineffective, and Abe tells her she's always charming in any case)

(Severus Smith is comforted by the fact that her godfather is a immortal wizard who gives her the best sweets)

- Severus and Albus never really fall out of love, even though they fall out of bed many times. They are a different breed of men, really. Eternal devotion means eternal devotion, as they find out. The Flamels' are happy they finally get to go on what the muggles call double dates.

- They also never stop stinging each other on the bum, but that is a rather more mature tale.