#How to improve weak Immunity

[directsellingnow]

Immunity booster Herbs: कमजोर प्रतिरक्षा से हैं परेशान? इन 6 जड़ी-बूटियों से पाएं राहत

Immunity booster Herbs: आजकल की अनियमित जीवनशैली, असंतुलित आहार, और तनाव के कारण हमारी इम्यूनिटी (Immunity) कमजोर हो सकती है। इम्यून सिस्टम कमजोर होने से शरीर विभिन्न बीमारियों और संक्रमणों का शिकार हो सकता है। एक मजबूत इम्यून सिस्टम न सिर्फ सर्दी जुकाम जैसी साधारण बीमारियों से सुरक्षा करता है, बल्कि कैंसर जैसी गंभीर बीमारियों से लड़ने में भी मदद करता है। ऐसे में, आयुर्वेदिक जड़ी-बूटियाँ…

[sunderwight]

SV AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates into a kind of mimicry demon.

He still gets tasked by the System with replacing Shen Qingqiu, except this time he actually has to pull off an imposter role on multiple levels, while the real Shen Qingqiu is stuck in a coma due to his qi deviation. Initially he thinks the situation is going to be temporary -- just take over until he figure out how to get the original goods to wake up -- but Shen Jiu's condition proves to be more difficult to repair than just waiting. Shen Yuan buys special side missions from the System to find items and artifacts to keep Shen Jiu alive, mainly because he doesn't want to be stuck playing this part until Luo Binghe kills him, but also after the first couple of times Shen Jiu regains some consciousness (not enough to leave his bed), Shen Yuan starts to feel kind of... bad for him. Too. Despite everything.

Shen Jiu, of course, is deeply suspicious of this doppelganger that has obviously taken advantage of his weakness to infiltrate the sect and steal his identity. He initially theorizes that the creature must be keeping him alive because it needs some aspect of his vitality in order to keep posing as him, but as they share more encounters is forced to concede that the thing might just be insane? And weirdly softhearted. Over time and by feigning sleep to listen in on Shen Yuan's muttering, he figures out that this all has something to do with Luo Binghe, which he's not pleased about. But he can't deduce what. (Luo Binghe doesn't get to move into the side room in this version of the story, because Shen Yuan has the house on lockdown for obvious reasons, but he does still get to make Shizun's meals!)

Anyway, Shen Jiu doesn't manage to conveniently wake up before the Immortal Alliance Conference. Shen Yuan has to throw Luo Binghe in, which he hates, but along the way he manages to recover that magical flower macguffin that won't work on Without-a-Cure (which he doesn't have in this AU because his species is immune to it), brews a tea that finally fixes Shen Jiu, and then fucks off to go mope about Binghe being in the Abyss.

Shen Jiu doesn't tell anyone about his demonic replacement, for a variety of reasons. One, he's punishing the other peak lords for not figuring it out themselves. Two, he's punishing himself for the fact that a literal demon replaced him for like 3 years and everyone considered it an improvement. Because it was. Three, he has mixed feelings that might potentially amount to not wanting to hunt down and kill Shen Yuan, but he's not admitting that even to himself.

Everyone thinks that Shen Qingqiu's return to asshole form is a result of Luo Binghe dying, and that his sudden new research projects are part of him like, trying to make sense of a senseless tragedy, and coping. But no, he's still trying to figure out why the fuck Luo Binghe was important and why Shen Yuan inserted himself into their lives only to basically just do Shen Qingqiu's job while he was indisposed, and then fuck off the moment Luo Binghe left the picture again.

After... healing Shen Jiu. Also. For some unfathomable reason.

But this version of the System's just happy that the plot is back on track! And surely it will stay back on track. Yes? Problem solved, right? Shen Yuan? Definitely nothing is going to mess with the rest of the story, cough cough, wait why are you visiting User 01, and what would you, a demon shapeshifter, need with a Sun & Dew seed...?

[ozzgin]

Is it just me or can I imagine a yandere with a darling who’s immune system and possibly everything about them just screams weak and pathetic, BUT their darling is actually very strong mentally and has and will create the most fucked up, batshit crazy inventions from what used to be harmless to something that can help them escape and possibly destroy everything in its path.

But at the end of the day, they become sleepy koalas who hug whoever is near them and fall asleep :)

This could be a request or rant, whatever you can think of! I just wanted to see how different yandere writers would interpret this small imagination of mine <3

But as always, stay safe and take care! everyone needs a break some time to time~

Sorry, but the moment I read the Darling's description, I instantly thought of Dr. Finkelstein from Nightmare Before Christmas. You know, Sally's inventor. 😭 So let me quickly write this down while I'm in my Shelley vibes, because I like the idea a lot. With a little twist, if you don't mind. :)

Yandere! Monster x Inventor! Reader

A frail inventor, and their affectionate rag doll that has been carefully stitched together for the purpose of a caregiver. An artificial existence, trapped within the confines of your lonely tower. Or so you might think.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel..." [Frankenstein]

You dangle an old, rusty bell for a good minute before leaning back in your chair. The barely audible chimes are quickly swallowed by the loud, mechanical groans of the gears and engines occupying most of this room. No matter, his ears are good. You picked them yourself. And surely enough, within moments, the door to your laboratory opens and someone cautiously walks in.

A tall, slender man. Or rather, something meant to resemble a man. The skin is a clumsy patchwork of blues and grays - you're no talented seamster, sadly - gathering together the body parts in what feels like a parodic attempt at mimicking God and his image. You gaze at the creature approaching you with a tray of tea and sweets. Scarcely your best work, if you must adhere to honesty. Regardless of the quality of your labor at the time of creation, you are proud of the result. How could you not be? You know this man better than you know yourself. Every organ, every artificial nerve cord, every blemish and stitch of his body was placed according to your intentions. A masterfully detailed project that took you years to complete; not an easy feat considering the lamentable state of your health.

"Here's your deadly nightshade tea." The man places a small, porcelain cup on the desk. "Do let me know when I should take you to bed, (Y/N)." You wave your hand dismissively and stretch out your limbs. "Not yet. I am almost finished", you respond, returning to the mound of metal scraps and pipes before you. "Can I ask what you're making?" The pale creature lowers himself to your level, a curious smile plastered on his face. "It's a mechanical heart", you reveal boastfully. "Like the one I have?" You run your hand through the creature's hair affectionately. "Almost. I'm testing out a different way to build the valves, for a more efficient pumping cycle." You continue to explain the intricacies of your novel mechanism, occasionally sipping on your tea. "Who knows, you might have a sibling in the near future."

The man's smile drops in an instant, and his sunken eyes widen at your statement. "What? Am I- am I not enough?" You glance at the creature as he becomes increasingly frantic. "Don't speak nonsense. If it comes out alright, I'll upgrade your own parts as well. I'm a disciple of scientific virtue, of continuous improvement." Nonsense? Vile treachery! You might've chiseled the brain that throbs within the walls of his skull, but his mind is his alone, and you seem to lack a fundamental understanding of his feelings and thoughts. His ardent confessions of love are met with mockingly pitiful grins, in the way a parent soothes a needy child. Even now, your eyes reflect nothing more than sympathy towards his protest. A childish tantrum is what you're most likely thinking. You've no time for emotional bagatelles. He can read you like an open book.

You simply won't understand. There is no place for a stranger in the life he's crafted with his very own hands: you, and him, and the evening tea with a side of butterscotch biscuits, and the bedtime talks, and the stripped branches of the decaying tree that rap at the windows on stormy nights. You might be the Inventor, but he is not just a mere, humble servant, a rag doll to be tossed around or toyed with. As you will soon discover, after all.

You awaken in the midst of night with your temples burning from a much too familiar headache. Although it's not just the pain that has disturbed your slumber. You can hear rattles and thuds coming from the upstairs laboratory. An intruder? Oh, your creations! The sound of glass breaking and metal scraping sends you into spiraling despair. You fumble to reach the nightstand, patting the surface in search for the bell and keys. You shake the handle in a panic, unable to find anything else in the darkness.

The chaotic rustle abruptly stops, followed by descending footsteps. You hold your breath as the chamber door opens, but it's none other than your creature. "Another flare-up? Shall I bring you some medicine?" the man asks with monotonous courtesy. "What have you been doing? What's all that noise?" you demand, agitated, but upon lifting yourself off the mattress you discover your legs are numb and uncooperative. The man hurries to your bed with a worried frown, and you hear the familiar clatter of the keychain coming from one of his pockets. "Have you taken my keys? Cease this foolishness at once!" Indifferent to your reproach, he places a firm hold on your shoulders and forces you back down, tucking you in effortlessly.

"You must forgive my impertinence." he says in a pleading tone. "I do not wish to impede the works of your genius. As your partner, however, it is my duty to prevent you from making mistakes." You furrow your eyebrows at his words. "What mistakes? My invention was flawless!", you argue fervently. "Indeed it was, but not its purpose. What need have you for another being?" It is the creature's turn for a passionate speech. He stands up with a confidence you don't recognize and continues: "You should know by now that I am fit to perform any role. That of your servant, your caregiver, your lover, or anything else you may desire. You can resume your tinkering starting tomorrow, but such blasphemies to our bond as the one today will not be tolerated." He straightens his vest and reaches for the door handle. "I will prepare some tea to help you rest."

Inconceivable. Your own creation, built with your own hands...Has something escaped your attention? His dialogue is deranged, tainted by madness. "Have I done something wrong?" you mumble to yourself, deep in contemplation. "Nonsense." the creature turns to face you briefly. "It was you who created me after all. Everything is perfectly splendid."

[dontwinmarioparty]

Smosh Cast as Pokémon Trainers

Your Rival: Trevor Evarts!

As the newest cast member of Smosh, it may feel like big, intimidating shoes to fill. We all know Trevor’s got the stuff for it, but really coming into your own comedic identity may feel like a challenge.

Partner Pokémon: Applin full team: dipplin, mr rime, quagsire, pangoro, slowking, emboar

Gym 1: Amanda Lehan Canto - Water Type

I've never seen such a good yes-and ability in improv than Amanda, you can tell that she's always down to turn any moment into a good time. Her acting talents spread far and wide, but her life experiences beyond that baffle me. The fact she loves scuba diving was the nail in the coffin for me that she's a master of the water type.

Partner Pokémon: Azumarill full team: azumarill, milotic, floatzel, mareanie, dracovish, starmie

Gym 2: Olivia Sui - Grass Type

Grass is a versatile and varied type, with the vibes of some Pokémon being serene and graceful to Rapidly Approaching Your Location, and Olivia fits that to me. She’s incredibly sweet and affectionate with her friends but is fully willing to commit to a bit and confuse the audience.

Partner Pokémon: Cherrim full team: cherrim, tangrowth, shiftry, lurantis, ferrothorn, whimsicott

Gym 3: Chanse McCrary - Fire Type

Chanse has an edge to him that I could see absolutely light up a battlefield. He’s not afraid to flex and show off during a competitive game, which sometimes leads to his downfall, but never takes back from his intelligence and just overall confidence. He’s got the X factor, which takes perfectly to the fire type.

Partner Pokémon: Blaziken full team: blaziken, skeledirge, volcarona, oricorio, ninetales, delphox

Gym 4: Tommy Bowe - Normal Type

Tommy had a point when he said that the Normal type is filled with a lot of Weird Looking Fellas, and I agree with that, but the normal type also calls for versatility, reliability. Having type immunities and only one weakness makes it a type that’s able to reliably stand on its own legs. With the many hats that Tommy has worn over the years at Smosh, the Normal type makes so much sense.

Partner Pokémon: Porygon-Z full team: porygon-z, audino, ditto, cinccino, lickilicky, drampa

Gym 5: Damien Haas - Ghost Type

Damien’s appearance alone would make the hounds be sent after me if I didn’t put him into the Ghost Type. Though intimidating on the surface, the ghost type, once you get past the hesitation, is full of some of the sweetest Pokémon you’ll ever get to meet. Consistently bringing fan favorites to new games with every generation, I can’t help but be reminded of Damien’s affinity for the spooky and alternative despite everything else about him being so gentle. He deserves the ghost type, and the ghost type deserves him.

Partner Pokémon: Chandelure full team: chandelure, gengar, rotom, cofagrigus, aegislash, sinistcha

Gym 6: Angela Giarratana - Dragon Type

The dragon type is powerful, it’s dominating, but it’s also chaotic, hard to wield, and sometimes outright terrifying. Angela being a dragon tamer makes so much sense to me, personally. Her ability to command a room either willingly or by complete accident with a mistake of word-choice never fails to make me laugh and feel hooked to the screen. Just put a big dragon next to her and that’s only amplified.

Partner Pokémon: Tyrantrum full team: tyrantrum, duraludon, noivern, goodra, alolan exeggutor, dracozolt

Gym 7: Arasha Lalani - Flying Type.

Arasha never fails to surprise me with just how above and beyond she goes in any video. No matter how crazy it gets she’s not afraid to yes-and the vibe and enable the chaos in a room. It makes her a fantastic host. She’s going to soar. She’s going to book a marvel movie. Trust me.

Partner Pokémon: Altaria full team: altaria, crobat, archeops, emolga, tropius, bombirdier

Gym 8: Keith Leak Jr - Electric Type

Keith is insanely underrated in the Smosh cast, and I sincerely believe that the OG Smosh Squad would not be the same without him. He consistently bounces between being a straight-man in a lineup to the most insane within seconds. Down to just his fits every single day, and the fact that he BEAT CANCER??? He’s always got me on my toes. He’s Electric.

Partner Pokémon: Zebstrika full team: zebstrika, alolan raichu, ampharos, luxray, toxtricity, pawmot

Team Rocket (or any evil team) Leader: Spencer Agnew - Dark Type

How could this be possible? The chosen?!! Evil? No..I just ran out of gym leader slots and thought it would be compelling lol. Spencer is a mastermind of comedy both in front of the camera and behind it. He’s funny without necessarily even trying, but yet it always comes across as mischievous, chaos, the most out-of-pocket lines you’ve ever heard. He’s clearly such a good guy, but the dark type, at least to my belief, fits the vibe he brings to the cast so perfectly.

Partner Pokémon: Kingambit full team: kingambit, krookodile, obstagoon, weavile, absol, sableye

The Elite Four:

Before you face the champion, you must go through a gauntlet of four of the strongest trainers in the region. Who might this be?

Courtney Miller - Fairy Type

A directorial mastermind, a comedic powerhouse, and overall just slaying boots the house down, Courtney Miller is nothing short of magical. She breathes a life into Smosh that just leaves me knowing for certain that some of our favorite videos would not be the same without her influence. Her ability to sway from one comedic extreme to another, while still showing that sincerity makes her just such a good fit for the fairy type.

Partner Pokémon: Florges full team: florges, sylveon, mawile, grimmsnarl, primarina, gardevoir

Anthony Padilla - Fighting Type

Our local emo boy. Our local “spent a day with everyone” boy. Someone who we were all overjoyed to have back. Not only being an absolute comedic powerhouse, he proves himself to be a jack of all stoic trades, from painting, to yoga, to starting Smosh with computer programming, his path of self-actualization is one to be admired.

Partner Pokémon: Breloom full team: breloom, toxicroak, scrafty, poliwrath, kommo-o, hitmontop

Shayne Topp - Psychic Type

Without a shadow of a doubt, Shayne has shown that (even if partially for a bit), he listens, he cares, and he hopes for the best for Smosh as a company. His energy in videos and being able to match the vibe of almost anyone that he’s paired with is nothing short of miraculous. He’s psychic. Full stop.

Partner Pokémon: Gallade full team: gallade, meowstic, darmanitan, oranguru, alakazam, reuniclus

Ian Hecox - Ground Type

For almost any cast member you could argue that they’re breathing life into Smosh. But I think one deserving of the title of keeping their feet planted is Ian. The way he showed so much resolve during the fall of Defy, carrying the company through Mythical, and stepping up and taking the operation independent again with Anthony shows nothing short of an incredible amount of dedication. Ground type fits him to me. Earthquake is always on a competitive team somewhere.

Partner Pokémon: Garchomp full team: garchomp, alolan dugtrio, marowak, stunfisk, mamoswine, gastrodon

The Champion….

The Chosen

Being the strongest Pokémon trainer of all time is a big, burdening task…but they are shoes which The Chosen is ready to fill. Using every single one of his special techniques, he will be a tough challenge. Are you ready to face it?

Partner Pokémon: Absol full team: absol, darkrai, lucario, zoroark, lycanroc, partner pokemon of whoever is playing the chosen at the time of the encounter

and at long last, you've done it. You're the Champion of the Smosh Pokemon League! Congratulations!!!

[foldingfittedsheets]

Hey! If you don't mind sharing, I'd be interested to hear more about your chronic illness diagnosis journey (I also get that it can be a private thing!).

I've been struggling for the last 5 or so years with chronic fatigue, muscle weakness, muscle pain and brain fog, and my doctors have checked a bunch of different things. EBV, thyroid, vitamin D, "are you sure you're not just depressed" and they've now gone for ME/CFS. A part of that just doesn't feel right to me because I feel like they should have done more tests or walked me through alternatives before settling! Especially because it fluctuates so much. Sometimes I can't leave the house, sometimes I have to borrow a wheelchair if I'm in a shop, sometimes I can walk 5000 steps??

Love and support for you and your gluten free adventure - potatoes, rice and polenta tend to be pretty good for me when I want something bready! (Doesn't quite hit the spot as well as buttered toast does though...)

My decline was really painfully gradual. I didn’t realize why things were getting so much harder. It manifested first with friction between my beloved because they were frustrated I was always too tired to run little errands myself. I went to the doctor and talked about my fatigue but was assured I was fine. I went on Chinese herbs and they buoyed up my reserves so I could keep functioning.

That went on for months, just getting more and more tired. I’d wake up sobbing because I wasn’t any more rested than I’d gone to bed. I went to a new doctor at that point. I got diagnosed with anemia until my blood work came back normal and then I was told I was fine.

Then I started fainting. My hair was falling out. I went to a different doctor. She ran my blood. I got told I was fine, but that maybe I had a food allergy. She slapped me with a full elimination diet that broke my spirit. I did feel some minor improvement but I wasn’t healthy by any means.

Finally, my good friend who is a doctor said that’s enough. She was in a different state but she was furious that I wasn’t getting any help. She ran my blood on a bunch of different ailment tests that were less well known. She tested for antibodies to EBV. If you have over 20 they consider you to have an active infection.

I had over 700 which is when they stop bothering to count.

I was so chock full of virus I was pound for pound virus by that point.

Then came the hard part. Knowing you’re bursting at the seams with a virus doesn’t make it easy to treat. The virus was living in me, in my cells. Too much of the medication and my body would start siccing it’s defenses against its own tissue.

I went on a bonanza of supplements. There was syrups to boost energy, pills to increase my immune system, antivirals, iron and vitamin D because those were kinda low. It was a three times a day regime of medicines.

My initial dose of antiviral was too high. I experienced a pain unlike what any mortal should bear as a result, dropping to the ground to writhe in agony when it hit. My dosage got lowered and my progress crept along.

I started school sometime in there and barely kept my head afloat above coursework. My stress load from school correlated to how much energy I had and I longed to finish my degree and just prioritize feeling better.

Then things got worse. My original doctor friend let her prescription rights for my state lapse, it didn’t make financial sense to keep them. A different friend from yet another state wrote my antivirals for a while but eventually I needed a new doctor.

I found another, this time a naturopathic doctor like my friends, hoping I’d keep receiving good care in that scope of practice. I didn’t. I had the most painful blood draw of my life in her office, writhing in agony, then didn’t hear back from her. I got ghosted by my doctor. When I pestered her for results she wrote me a script for antivirals but that was all.

I’d find out about eight months later when my health was declining and my friends demanded to see my blood work that my iron had been dangerously low but she hadn’t bothered to tell me. I got on iron supplements and staggered along.

Through precision time management I could budget my functional time into schoolwork then collapse to recuperate. It was working, but barely.

When my scrip on antivirals ran out I hunted once again for a doctor. This time I’d realized that any good care I’d gotten was when I’d made a personal connection with the doctor, a rare privilege not many people got. So I sought out a friend of a friend, someone I’d seen on occasion in the doctory social circle.

I have never been more happy with a doctor. She tested my viral numbers and pronounced herself satisfied that it was in check but was suspicious that although my thyroid numbers always looked normal that something was going on there. She ran more tests and lo. A thyroid imbalance.

Around that time I’d sunk into needing the chair. I stopped functioning, it was almost as bad as my first collapse. And yet again the fun part of getting my thyroid in balance was a delicate balance of making sure I wasn’t taking too much and hurting myself.

That balancing act took about a year to stabilize. I was still so weak from years of fatigue and inactivity. An able bodied person cannot imagine how hard it is to build up from ground zero on all your muscles. And the worst part was any time I felt tired I was terrified I was going to slip back down into the depths of exhaustion.

Then my beloved and I got Wyvern the puppy. And before we realized we had both somehow developed allergies to dogs and had to break our hearts giving him up, he saved me the last time.

Potty training meant I had to get up every two hours to take him out. I didn’t have to walk far but I had to do it consistently. Every single day I’d go to bed aching in every muscle, terrified to wake up. But every day I woke up with energy and was able to do it again.

It was like puppy boot camp, and I was able to go longer and farther every walk. By the time we realized we couldn’t keep him I was mobile again, I hadn’t needed my chair at all. When we said goodbye to him I promised I wouldn’t lose the progress he helped me make.

Now I finally, for the first time in six years, feel healthy again. I can go on long walks, I can run little errands for my beloved, I can fill my days with activity and wake up to do it again the next day. It’s the most amazing thing.

I hope you can stumble upon a doctor who can listen to you and help you. I know how hard things can get, but sometimes they can get better.

[bunniekittiee]

The Loudest Silence

Based off of @heavenlymorals ‘s post that Bi-Han had an injury to his throat that caused the raspiness. I did some research on throat illnesses and for this one, I went with acute laryngitis. Also this isn’t proofread so ignore any errors! I suck at endings btw.

It was unknown how Bi-Han got ill as he hardly ever got sick, but he was suffering. He attempted to cover his illness and continue his regular activities, such as hard training and practicing his ability to withstand the cold of the Arctika. But at night, he ran a high fever and his body was wracked with coughs until he was coughing blood. His mother was worried, extremely worried. She stayed up many nights to help Bi-Han by giving him tea to sip on and rubbing his back. She made sure he slept elevated so his coughing would not persist as long.

However, his father was not happy that Bi-Han was sick. He blamed himself for not strengthening his immune system, and he encouraged Bi-Han to freeze the illness out. His mother thought otherwise, so they argued over the course of action. She wanted Bi-Han to rest and recover, he wanted him to continue training and get over his illness in the cryomancer way.

“He is going to be the Grandmaster one day. How can he be a leader if you coddle him?” His father spat as he lifted his hands up in irritation.

“It is not coddling if I’m taking care of him because he is ill. He’s coughing blood! He can barely stand up, let alone train.” She replied with her face twisted in irritation. “I will not let you push our son until he is severely ill. He needs to rest.”

They bickered while Bi-Han listened, his body fighting for him to stay in bed but his mind told him he needed to train. He needed to prove his father wrong. His father was always harder on Bi-Han than Kuai Liang and Tomas who did not have to prove themselves as much as Bi-Han had to.

That was the downside of being the first-born son.

And he resented his brothers like hell for it.

Kuai Liang snuck into Bi-Han’s room with soup, using his hands to keep it warm. “I brought you something to eat, brother.”

Bi-Han looked at him, unable to talk as his throat was inflamed shut. His vocal cords felt like they were being ripped out of him when he made an effort to speak. He shook his head when Kuai Liang came closer with the soup.

“Why not? Are you not hungry?” He asked.

Bi-Han sighed in frustration as he was unable to communicate why he didn’t want to eat. It wasn’t that he was not hungry, it felt like sandpaper going down his throat when he ate. It was painful and uncomfortable.

He tried to communicate with his eyes, but eventually gave up and grabbed something who write on next to him. His mother made sure he had something to write with as she understood he had a hard time telling his family what he needed.

Kuai Liang looked at the paper when Bi-Han held it up and nodded. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry brother. I’ll leave it in the kitchen for now. Is there anything else you might need?”

He shook his head once more and made the motion to shoo Kuai Liang out. His brother listened and closed the door behind him, making Bi-Han sigh again.

He felt like death. He was sure Death would claim him. He wanted to rip his own throat out. The overwhelming urge to sleep took over him, and he closed his eyes.

Groggily waking up, Bi-Han slung his legs over the edge of his bed. He still felt horrible, but he knew his father was right. He needed to try to freeze the sickness out somehow. As he began to get dressed, he felt lightheaded as the corners of his vision began to fuzz. He shook his head slightly. He could not be weak. He could not show weakness.

Despite how much as his body yearned for his bed, he had to make an effort to improve his health. So he trudged out of his room and quietly padded down the hall as he swallowed his built up saliva in his mouth. It hurt horribly when he did, but he could not help it.

“Bi-Han! What are you doing up?” Tomas asked him as he approached Bi-Han. He narrowed his eyes at Tomas and opened his mouth to say something but he could not get a sound out. His vocal cords throbbed, and he rubbed his throat. Glaring at Tomas, he pushed past time and tried to make his way outside.

That was, until Kuai Liang stopped him.

“What are you doing, brother? You need to be resting. Why are you going outside?” Kuai Liang questioned as he stood between Bi-Han and the door.

The eldest brother wanted to explode. Everyone was getting in his way. His brown eyes burned into Kuai Liang’s as he moved his brother to the side. He began to go outside into the snowy tundra while his brothers followed behind him.

“You cannot go outside! It will worsen your condition.” Liang said worriedly as he caught up next to Bi-Han. “Please go back inside.”

Ignoring his request, Bi-Han stepped through the snow as the icy winds burned his throat and nasal passages. His head hurt badly now.

Kuai Liang told Tomas to get their mother while he followed Bi-Han. “Please brother, we don’t want your illness to become worse.”

“Obey my orders.” Bi-Han guttural voice that had not been used for a week rang in the air. He regretted speaking as his throat felt like it was being scraped with sandpaper and a knife. Kuai Liang was taken aback a little bit from the sounds of Bi-Han’s voice. It sounded painful. Bi-Han clenched his jaw and continued stepping through the snow while Kuai Liang lingered behind him.

The Arctika itself was always chilly with its freezing winds and the snow that seemed to never stop. But it had cold spots that were icy compared to the normal coldness. That was where Bi-Han was headed. It was easier to focus his power, and he hoped that the extra chill would help him freeze his illness out.

Kuai Liang warmed himself up from the bitter cold as he followed him. Tomas trailed behind the two brothers, shivering and the tip of his nose and cheeks turning red. He did not understand how Bi-Han could withstand it so easily.

Reaching the cold spot, Bi-Han threw himself onto the ground and began to cover himself in snow. His teeth chattered and his bones ached from the snow, but he knew he could focus his powers better this way. He had to freeze it out one way.

“Brother!” Kuai Liang kneeled down next to him and attempted to get the snow off of him, but Bi-Han smacked his hands. “You are going to get even more sick!”

Despite Tomas and Kuai Liang’s blabbering, Bi-Han sunk into the snow more and began to focus on the freezing temperatures. The cold. The ice that was beginning to frost over him. He needed to get his illness out quick.

He closed his eyes and blocked out his brothers’ pleas and focused on his heartbeat. His bones now ached to a great extent. His throat felt like it was being shredded by a cheese grater with every breath he took.

Bi-Han was not sure if he fell asleep or if he passed out. All he felt was someone pick him up which woke him up from his sleep. He assumed it was Kuai Liang, and Bi-Han grumbled quietly.

He felt warmth engulf his body, but it did not feel good. Going from extreme cold temperatures to hot made him feel like he was on fire. He groaned in pain, his throat flaring up again as he felt like his skin was being engulfed in flames. He fluttered his eyes open, and there stood his mother. She was worried, he could tell by the scrunch of her eyebrows. He saw a glimpse of his father approaching, but his eyes felt heavy. Bi-Han soon passed out once more.

When he opened his eyes again, he glanced around and saw that he was in bed with multiple blankets stacked on him. Near his bed, his mother slept. He felt his heart lurch as his worries consumed him. Was she okay? Did something happen?

Her eyes opened when she heard Bi-Han shifting around, and she got up quickly to tend to his needs. “My son! How do you feel?”

Bi-Han had a pounding headache, his limbs felt heavy, his bones hurt, he was not in any better shape. If not, worse than before.

He explained this to her on the paper pad and she sighed. “I told your father that freezing it out would only worsen it. I was right. You are officially on bed rest, Bi-Han.” She said as she gently pushed his stray hairs back from his forehead. “You are not going anywhere. You will not resume training. You will not get up from this bed, do you understand me?”

He wanted to argue and tell her that he could do it, but with the way he felt, he did not feel like doing anything. He just nodded his head at her while she sighed again.

“I don’t know what I would do if I were to lose you, my love.” She told him quietly. “You are my life. As well as Kuai Liang, but you are my life.”

Bi-Han suddenly felt tired, his eyelids starting to drag down as his vision blurred. He was once again entering his dream state that was empty. Void of any dreams. Just darkness.

It had taken three weeks for Bi-Han to fully recover. His mother fought hard for his father to give Bi-Han the adequate amount of recovery time. His father respected her wishes and granted Bi-Han time to rest. As much as he wanted his son to continue his training and work, he did not like to see him so severely ill. He saw how sickly Bi-Han looked after he tried to freeze it out of him. Bi-Han was pale with blue veins slightly showing through his skin. His body was limp and deathly cold. He thought for a moment that his son had perished by his own bad encouragement. But Bi-Han persisted.

As a future Grandmaster should.

Bi-Han began to feel better halfway into Week 3. He felt more energized and did not have to worry about falling asleep out of nowhere. Kuai Liang and Tomas were joyous to have their brother back even if he was grouchy. They had missed Bi-Han accompanying them to training and his moodiness that only made them annoy him more.

Training had its difficulties as he did not have the stamina built up anymore. So he had a somewhat difficult time attempting to adjust to his usual regime. However, he was used to not talking. His body may have been recovering well, but his throat still had flare ups. No one expected him to talk. But it frustrated him to no end trying to communicate without speaking. No one seemed to understand him. And sometimes it was hard keeping his side comments to himself.

One day, Tomas had accidentally smacked Kuai Liang in the face with a stick, causing the brother to have a large red mark across his cheek.

“By the Gods! Kuai Liang, I am so sorry!” Tomas apologized to him as Kuai, annoyed, told him it was fine.

“You imbecile.” Bi-Han rasped. “You need to watch where you are swinging objects.”

Tomas and Kuai both jumped on surprise, eyes wide as they swiveled their heads to Bi-Han.

“Brother, your voice…” Kuai Liang said in shock.

“It’s different.” Tomas breathed as they studied Bi-Han who was a little surprised himself. His voice was altered from his illness, and he did not expect it. It was deeper than normal with some raspiness to it. He sounded much older and a little intimidating.

“Be quiet, both of you.” He rumbled. Both of his brothers obeyed his orders.

Bi-Han used his voice more, even surprising his parents. “Your voice is new.” His father told him. “A future Grandmaster with a voice like that will bring him success.”

Bi-Han debated on whether his father was telling him the truth or not. He was used to his original voice, and he did not want any changes to it. It wasn’t anything special, but it was his regularity. Now, he had a much deeper and raspier voice that didn’t sit well with him.

Would he admit he was insecure? Absolutely not.

But his mother noticed he used his voice less despite being fully recovered. And she did what mothers always do best.

“My son,” she said to him one day while she helped him apply creams to his face. His face was breaking out from stress, and he was irritated because of it. “Your voice is lovely. It may have changed due to our sickness, but you sound intimidating. You can use that to your advantage, especially when you are Grandmaster.”

The cryomancer did not have that thought cross his mind. His mother was right, he could use it to his advantage. Bi-Han had always been on the much colder side with his personality, so having a voice like that would only add to his demeanor.

Brown eyes staring at his mother’s, he nodded his head. “I had never thought about it that way. Thank you.”

She smiled at him softly, continuing to rub a bit more cream onto his face.

Kuai Liang and Tomas had the hardest time adjusting to Bi-Han’s voice. They never fully got used to it, and if Bi-Han snuck up on them, he often surprised them.

He scared Tomas so bad that the poor kid swung himself off the side of one of the hills around the Arctika. His powers were definitely tested that day on whether he could control his smoke enough to bring himself up the large hill again. Bi-Han found is amusing while Kuai was worried about Tomas being hurt.

Bi-Han utilized his mother’s advice for many years, even after she had passed. Growing from a teenager to a fully-fledged man who was now the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, he had much practice with altering his voice to sound more imposing on others. Sometimes, he used it on his siblings. But Kuai Liang always rolled his eyes and told Bi-Han that he was not scaring anyone.

But they never were used to his voice. How gravelly it could sound and how it would change throughout the day. His voice sounded much different in the mornings than in the afternoons.

He was thankful he had gotten ill those many years ago. It worked out in his favor despite how much pain he had to go through. But he thought it worked out in his benefit.

[absolutely-esme]

Monster!Tim Coraline AU part 2

A while back, I posted an Idea I had For a Combination of a Coraline AU and a Meta!Tim AU. It's here assuming I made the link correctly.

Well, I had more thoughts on the matter, so I'm making another post.

First off, I want to expand/clarify on how Tim's powers work.

Tim fights (or otherwise challenges) various supernatural things and gains power from defeating them.  I touched on this before and mentioned that it was because it was symbolically similar hunting and eating prey.  I would like to talk a bit more about what this entails. 

Upon achieving victory, Tim takes a bit of power from the defeated opponent and incorporates it into himself.  Tim can gain abilities this way or just boost his own power level a bit.  He does not physically eat any part of his opponent.

The opponent is left a bit weaker, but does not lose abilities completely and is not permanently damaged.  They can get their power levels back up given some time.  Think of it like donating blood, they’ll be a little weak and woozy for a bit, but no lasting harm is done.  Now, I cannot stress enough that this is because of the choices Tim makes. 

Tim chooses to use his powers in the gentlest way available.  He chooses not to take more than they can safely part with.  He chooses not to simply consume them completely.  He chooses to pay careful attention to how much power his opponents can afford to part with and whether or not they are in a position to weather the recovery safely.  Tim grew up looking up to Batman and Robin.  He believes in harm reduction. 

That’s why the supernatural-leaning rogues fear him so much.  Their instincts are very aware that this is a predator that has simply decided not to kill them today.  He probably won’t next time either, but he could easily make a different decision at any time.  At least some of them are not entirely aware of their ties to the supernatural or why the third Robin inspires such primal existential fear.

The thing that drives Tim to keep doing these challenges is not primarily a desire for power (though some of the abilities he gains are useful), but rather because it makes the hunger more manageable for a bit.  It doesn’t stop it, but it takes the edge off for a little while.  Tim was incredibly suspicious of this at first.  He knows full well that his condition makes a point of being inconvenient and that it is easy to spiral out of control in a way that makes one dangerous to oneself or others.  He remembers how miserable the fallout of trying to eat to fullness was.  He made a careful study of the challenges and how they affected him.  He kept meticulous notes on his mental and physical state.  He also created and stuck to a very rigid schedule on how often he would allow himself to “hunt,” and made a point of not taking too much from his “prey.”

Tim starts off pretty close to a baseline human and gathers abilities over time.

When he is very young he gains improved stealth and the ability to sense secrets.  For a little while, that’s all he has, until he learns that there are other things in Gotham he can challenge.

 While he was still very young he collected the ability to make his fingernails razor-sharp, the ability to climb like a goat, some minor enhanced strength (just enough to somewhat offset the disadvantage of being so tiny), partial immunity to slipperiness caused by water (from the many rain/fog/whatever spirits to be found in a city as gloomy as Gotham), increased impact resistance (don’t know what that thing was, but Tim’s not sure if he actually beat it or if it was just so high above his level that it felt safe to feed him a scrap of its power purely out of curiosity over what he might do with it), and a bite like a beartrap.

Then the Beldam incident happened.  He got a lot from dealing with the Beldam because that wasn’t an ordinary challenge (by his way of doing things).  The Beldam was too powerful, too dangerous, too impossible to contain, too sneaky, too focused on targeting vulnerable victims who won’t be missed in time for any sign to be found.  Tim had to stop her for good right then and there because he only had one shot.  Even if he survived and escaped (which wasn’t especially likely if he held back at all) she would go right on killing children.  There was no way to put the Beldam in Arkham even just until the next breakout.  No way to track the Beldam.  No way of protecting other isolated, vulnerable children without lethal force.  So Tim killed the Beldam and consumed it entirely (he has to think of the Beldam as an it, he can’t afford to do otherwise). 

From defeating the Beldam, he gained a supernatural knack for fiber arts (especially spinning, weaving, and sewing), the ability to control things he makes with these skills to a certain degree, the ability to see through buttons he’s sewn on things, some slight shapeshifting, minor space-folding on the level of making his pockets a bit bigger on the inside, and illusory powers that allow him to make things seem a bit nicer/brighter/more pleasant.  He also gains a pretty huge general power boost that goes into enhancing his existing abilities.  He takes to spinning some very strong cord and keeping a few skeins on his person at all times because it’s useful for a number of things and makes a pretty good weapon, especially with his ability to manipulate it.

The shapeshifting isn’t much on it’s own, but it can combine with other abilities he’s taken on to let him make greater changes and take on forms that better support use of his powers.

After the Beldam incident, Tim’s power levels increase a good deal very quickly, allowing him to challenge and defeat stronger opponents and collect stronger abilities.  Tim continues wandering, continues fighting, continues gaining power. 

(Trauma?  What Trauma?  He’s fine.  It all turned out okay in the end.  The Beldam is dead.  The souls she trapped are free.  Tim totally doesn’t have complicated feelings about killing her.  It.  Tim is fine.  Tim totally doesn’t have nightmares about an evil Batman with buttons for eyes.  You would not believe how fine he is.)

He collects some extra senses that allow him to maintain greater awareness of his surroundings.  He gains the ability to produce and maintain a very small fire (like a candle flame on a tealight) at his fingertips.  He gets quicker reflexes from something he probably wouldn’t have been able to beat prior to killing the Beldam (he had to tank an uncomfortable number of hits in that fight).

He gains the ability to find and use what he decides to call shortcuts. They’re these odd little throughways tucked into out of the way places that he can pass through and go from one place to someplace a fair distance away.   One of them is an odd little opening in a wall between a dead-end alley and a rooftop on the other side of town.  The shortcuts don’t look odd or out of place.  He mostly recognizes them by vibes.  If he had been born with this ability rather than gaining it later in life he probably wouldn’t have realized that there was anything odd about the shortcuts or that no one else could see them.

…

Tim goes on doing his thing, pretending he wasn’t traumatized by the Beldam, and even managing to heal a little despite his somewhat unhealthy handling of it.

Then Robin dies, and Batman loses it.  Now Batman is self-destructing and looks like he’s going to take all of Gotham down with him, the Other Gotham Nightmares are back, and Robin is fucking dead. 

Tim is not okay.

Tim tries to get someone else, anyone else, to deal with the situation because a violent, out of control Batman is a pretty massive trigger for him.  No one else who seems like they might be able to do anything for Batman is willing to intervein.  Batman is getting worse.

It looks like Tim is going to have to be the one to do something about this.

…

When Tim eventually begins his training to be Robin, it is such a hassle learning how to fight without his powers.  Batman and Nightwing think he’s incredibly clumsy when he first starts his training and wonder just how the heck he managed to follow them undetected for so long.  Then the clumsiness clears up more quickly than they would have expected, and they are concerned that he might have had a concussion when he started training and they didn’t notice. 

It’s actually because he has to re-learn how to get around without using his powers in a way that Batman and Nightwing would notice, and he’s started to forget how to account for large bulky items that aren’t tucked away in a pocket dimension.  That said, he did do it all without powers in the beginning so he’s re-learning rather than learning something new for the first time.  Also, he figures out pretty quickly that he can use the stealth he got from secret hunters and the goat-like climbing ability he got from a Jersey Devil because neither Bruce nor Dick realizes just how unusual Dick’s childhood level of ability was.

While Tim is operating as the Bats’ emotional support child, he uses his illusion powers from the Beldam to look cute, comforting, healthy, and un-concerning.  When he’s not with the Bats, he drops the illusion and just goes about his business with his actual appearance.  When he has some shit to get done far enough outside of the Bats’ sphere of influence that he can be reasonably confident he can avoid them finding out about it, he turns into something out of a scary movie.

Guess who gave digital art a try? Here we have Emotional Support Tim, Regular Tim, and Cryptid Tim.

I hadn't originally planned for Cryptid Tim to be showing that much skin, but i had to spend a lot of time figuring out the anatomy before I could figure out how to dress him, and by the time I realized what I was doing, i'd put so much work into the shading on the ribcage that i didn't want to cover it completely. Tim won't actually dress like that in Cryptid form, I just worked really hard on the anatomy. I should do more art to figure out his actual Cryptid Garb.

I went the stretched out, spindly monster route for Tim's Cryptid form because his magic/condition is called "afflicted with gluttony." I know a lot of artists make monsters based on the concept of gluttony heavyset with lots of excess fat tissue, but I feel like it makes sense to have a gluttony monster look hungry, like no matter how much it's eaten it's nowhere near enough.

The gray-ish skin with darker gray hands was just because I thought it would look spooky, and redoing the hands once they were done felt like it would be a lot of work. Hands are hard. Especially with foreshortening.

[j0kers-light]

Okay that head canon about y/n getting sick and J worrying over her was precious 🥹 What if the tables were turned and J got bad sick and refused to take care of himself?

-🍄

My beloved 🍄 anon!! How I have missed you!

You stay providing me with amazing ideas! sick!reader was fun to write! So let’s explore a sick!Joker! This big baby… I’m gonna have fun with this one. 🖤✨as always enjoy enjoy!!

Joker does not get sick. He is far too busy to be bogged down with such a trivial thing as germs. Who do they think they are anyway?

Sure he's not superhuman but you would think all that time spent messing with chemicals and stuff would make him immune?

NOPE! Baby boy gets hit with the common cold and he’s out for weeks. It’s almost funny if not for the fact that Joker fighting for his life.

If only Batman knew a common cold could have J waving a white flag. 🥴

Unlike you Joker accepts rather quickly that he's sick and needs to sit his butt down somewhere.

That doesn't mean that decision is instantaneous. He ignores minor symptoms too. 🙄🙄

Like an itchy throat, watery eyes, a splitting headache. HE'S FINE. Joker powers through as if nothing is wrong. 👀 (sound familiar?)

Frost is the first to raise an eyebrow as the days progress and Joker doesn’t improve. He hints that J might be coming down with something only to be ignored. Frost tried to warn him.. 🤦🏾‍♀️

Just imagine Joker hosting a meeting like mid theatric speech and suddenly.. he sneezes.

Mac secretly took a video to send to you later because Joker looked too cute!

Joker and just about everyone in attendance was shocked at the comical (and adorable) sneeze that comes out this scary man.

👁️ 👄 👁️ them goons were shooketh girl lol

Joker threatens to murder anyone if they laugh but a snicker does escape when J sneezes again and almost bangs his head against the table (I'm fighting back tears anon! 🤣)

One glance at Frost has the meeting adjourned because they gotta drop Joker off at your place. He can't terrorize Gotham City like this!

That poor baby is a mess! Joker is sweating through his greasepaint, his nose is running like Usain Bolt, and he swears that Bane is punching him in the head. 😀 yup he’s sick.

It's time to go when Joker passes out in front of Frost, Mac, and Neo after one sneeze too many.

There's only one person they trust to look after Joker. Are you up for the challenge?

Frost is a big guy, but even he is struggling to carry Joker into your apartment. He called earlier explaining that Joker wasn't feeling too well so you left the front door unlocked.

You thought that meant Joker got hurt while out being a menace to society. That you could deal with. Some bandaids and a proper scolding, always did the trick.

You weren’t expecting Frost to dump your semi-unconscious lover onto your couch like a sack of potatoes. Joker looks almost unrecognizable and you fear the worst seeing how weak he is.

His hooded eyes take you in and a groggy, "Bunny.... I'm dying!" escapes his lips before you lock eyes with Frost.

"He has a cold."

😀 Lawd help us. If you thought Joker was a drama queen before Chile.. This grown man acts like a child staying home from school with pneumonia rather than a cold.

J has transformed himself into a blanket burrito with only his freckled face exposed. And he look so pitiful.

He can't breathe out of his nose anymore which has turned scarlet red since he doesn't use the tissues you bought him, (you yell at him to stop using his sleeves!) and he takes random naps as his immune system tries to fight off this infection. It’s doing a terrible job.

A common cold last a few days at most. A full week and a half later, and Joker is still in the trenches.

This is when you start to worry and take his illness more seriously.

Feed a cold, starve a fever so you work overtime to nurse your man back to health. You prepare the best homemade soups, arrange all the tv marathons J could ever want, you even sneak him medicine with tried and true motherly tactics.

J refused to take medicine so you cave and buy him jello, applesauce, pudding etc. as a compromise.

Little does he know, you crushed the pills inside 🤫 In short, you watch over Joker like a hawk.

He orders you to stay away stating, 'he doesn't want his Bunny getting sick' but in the same breath, he makes you cuddle with him on the couch. J falls asleep using you as his personal teddy bear and you are totally okay with that.

Anything to help him sleep and recover faster.

The worst phase comes along when you wrestle out of Joker’s arms to grab the thermometer, and his voice stops you in your tracks.

"Ma? Is... is that you?"

Joker is delirious and you shouldn't take advantage of him when he's so out of it but what's the harm in feeding into his delulu? Its not like he'll remember anyway..

You weakly smile and reply. "Hush baby, I'll be right back."

J begins another coughing fit and has air remaining to steal yours with a single sentence. "No, I don't wanna be alone."

He sounds so weak, like a child confessing their worst fears to an adult. What kind of person can ignore a plea like that? You can't that’s for sure.

You’ll check his temperature later. Right now, Joker needs you. You crawl back into Joker's arms and he immediately wraps them around you.

"Don't... l-leave." His voice is breaking your heart, he sounds so scared!

You smooth J’s hair away to cup his face. You washed away all the harsh makeup and sweat days ago so you’re free to admire his natural beauty in all its glory.

Even fighting a cold, he's so handsome looking up at you with those glassy eyes of his. You doubt he recognizes you right now. Only you are allowed to see Joker so vulnerable.

Only you can take care of him and it’s an honor you’ll never take for granted.

"I’m not going anywhere." You promise.

[monstersdownthepath]

Homebrew Horror: Dominion Disassemblers

(Art from The Book of Unremitting Horror, pg. 66)

Though this is beyond the knowledge of any worldly being, the Dominion of the Black was not always the galactic union it is now. Until a united council with a common goal took the head of the Dominion, wars both petty and planet-scarring were common among its many factions, though in the centuries since their grand union, these squabbles have been reduced to near-nonexistence except when weapons must be tested.

Many relics from this tumultuous time remain in use even to this day, one of the most 'famous' being the Gan-Dergorin, known in the common tongue as Dominion Disassembler, monstrous, nigh-unkillable biomechanical titans with a unique behavioral quirk built into their very genetic code which made them useful in the old wars, and has them remaining useful even now, long after they're no longer needed for their original purpose: destroying Dominion technology. The war machines of the Dominion are unlike any of the minor scouting and scientific units seen on Golarion's soil, the twisted mixtures of flesh and steel nearly impossible to truly put down for good, able to continue their terrible march even as enormous portions of their bodies were torn away.

That is where the Gan-Dergorin come in. These bestial constructs have a simple tactic when facing down any enemy: tear it to pieces too small to remain active. Even the most resilient Dominion machines of terror cannot survive the thoroughness of the destruction that Disassemblers enact upon them, severing every single joint and connector from one another until their victims are rent to their smallest possible components. A Disassembler which has the time to do so will then go even further by separating all types of tissue and matter from one another, then carefully sorting the mangled gore into piles and rows based on how useful it believes its alien masters may find the components, behavior which assured a steady stream of resources for the flesh-forges of the Dominion.

Even today, their gruesome displays are useful when intimidating or punishing captive populations, though Dominion science has advanced to the point such brutal measures are no longer needed; they have much more thorough and effective means of reducing living creatures to their component parts. As such, Disassemblers are used as weapons of terror against the Dominion's enemies among the stars and within their own populations, though this isn't to say they're restricted to distant worlds.

The arrival of a Disassembler on soil beyond the Dominion's grip is an occurrence which is rare to the point of nonexistence, but it has happened both by accident (errant portals and teleportation errors) and purposeful action. On the exceedingly rare occasions when a cultist manages to establish and survive contact with entities concerned with the Dominion's war effort, they can be convinced to send one of these horrors to the cultist's world. Rarely does the cultist survive to give the war machines an actual order, allowing the machine to do what it does best: kill anything it encounters, and assure its own continued survival.

Gan-Dergorin CR 11 Chaotic Evil Large Construct Init +2; Senses: Darkvision 80ft, Low-light vision, blindsense 10 ft, Perception +17 Aura: Frightful Presence (60ft, DC 15) ----- Defense ----- AC 25; touch 11; flat-footed 23 (+2 Dex, +14 natural, -1 size) HP:110 (13d10+30) Fast Healing 5 Fort +4, Ref +6, Will +7 Defensive Abilities: Reassemble, Upgrade; DR 5/--; Immune Construct traits; Resist Fire 10, Cold 10, Electricity 10; Weakness Serial Number, Thorough Disassembly ----- Offense ----- Speed: 30 ft, climb 10ft Melee: Pneumatic Cleaver +19/+14/+9 (2d6+6/x3), Variable Arms +13 (2d6+3/19-20) Space/Reach: 10ft/10ft ----- Statistics ----- Str 22, Dex 15, Con --, Int 10, Wis 16, Cha 6 Base Atk +13; CMB +20; CMD 32 Feats: Cleave, Cleaving Finish, Critical Focus, Improved Cleaving Finish, Great Cleave, Power Attack, Technologist(B), Weapon Focus (Pneumatic Cleaver) Skills: Climb +19, Disable Device +9 (+13 vs machinery/technology), Perception +17, Stealth +3; Racial Modifiers: +4 to Disable Device checks against complex machinery and technology Languages: Aklo (rarely speaks) SQ: Freeze (pile of metal junk), Standing Orders, Thorough Disassembly ----- Ecology ----- Environment: Any Organization: Solitary Treasure: Standard (scrap material, integrated items)

----- Combat: Disassemblers are not complicated creatures. They charge into combat with reckless abandon, using their Great Cleave and Improved Cleaving Finish to slaughter as many weak enemies as they can with a single attack before focusing down remaining foes one at a time with their Full-Attacks, using Power Attack at every opportunity. If given an option, Disassemblers prefer to target any creature capable dealing damage it cannot resist or nullify. A Disassembler will chase down any creature it believes it can kill and will not stop until its enemy escapes or it is driven back by damage.

Morale: A Disassembler brought below 1/4th of its HP maximum will immediately retreat to recover, even if it means abandoning fallen foes, Once it has regained at least half of its total HP and perhaps integrated new weapons, it will track down its foes to dispatch them. If it is slain in combat but permitted to return to function, it will Upgrade itself and track down its killers if possible, and follow its Standing Orders if not.

-----

Reassemble (Ex): Dominion Disassemblers can reattach severed limbs and portions of their bodies by holding it to themselves for 1 full round. A Dominion Disassembler is not destroyed when it reaches 0 HP, but is rendered inert and helpless. 1d4 hours after being reduced to 0 HP, all the alien machinery within whirls back to life--it reactivates at 1 hitpoint and resumes Fast Healing. Only the thorough and comprehensive destruction of its remains using methods such as immersion in magma, acid, or a similar substance, or turning to ash via Disintegrate or similar, can prevent a Disassembler from returning to function; otherwise, it can pull itself together from even the smallest remains.

Serial Number (Ex): All Disassemblers possess a serial number etched on a plate of alien metal somewhere within their body which is kept hidden near their centers. The number cannot be observed unless the construct has been rendered helpless, and even then it requires a DC 23 Perception check to find. Any creature capable of reading and speaking Aklo can make a DC 23 Linguistics check to memorize the Serial Number or write it down perfectly.

A creature may give a verbal command to a Disassembler by speaking its entire serial number aloud and stating the action they wish it to take, in Aklo. Due to the length and complexity of each serial number, this is a full-round action which provokes an attack of opportunity, and being struck by the attack of opportunity ruins the attempt to speak the number. If left without orders, Disassemblers typically try to destroy any creature that knows their serial number. Most creatures which learn of a Disassembler's serial number can easily get rid of the creature by ordering it to take a self-destructive action, or to accept the effects of a spell which will teleport or plane shift it a great distance away.

Standing Orders (Ex): To await further orders from their commanders, Disassemblers go into a low-power mode if they have not encountered another creature in 24 hours. In this mode, they come to rest and resemble a pile of junk, though they remain somewhat aware of their surroundings and may make Perception checks at a -5 penalty to detect nearby creatures and passively make Stealth checks to hide in plain sight as a pile of scrap. They can remain in this low-power state indefinitely, and will do so as long as they are not alerted to any creature, and spring back to full functionality instantly when alerted.

Thorough Disassembly (Ex): A Disassembler gets Technologist as a bonus feat and has a +4 bonus to Disable Device checks to sabotage or take apart complex machinery and advanced technology, and Disable Device is a class skill for it. In addition, after reducing a creature to 0 HP, the Disassembler is compelled to butcher it to prevent its return. It can resist this compulsion by succeeding a DC 20 Will save; otherwise, it must spend its next round attempting to coup de grace that creature if it is still alive, or to begin ripping it to pieces if it is dead.

Upgrade (Ex): When a Disassembler is defeated but permitted to Reassemble, it learns from its failure and seeks out methods to upgrade itself. A Disassembler has a number of Upgrade Points equal to 3 + its Wisdom modifier (6 for a typical Disassembler) that it may divide as it sees fit, and each time it is defeated, its Upgrade Points reset and may be redistributed. A Disassembler requires 1d4+1 days to make upgrades to itself as it gathers raw material from any source it can find (the DM may rule it finds parts much faster in areas with high amounts of technology), and never wastes time and resources upgrading itself unless it is defeated. It can take most of the upgrades multiple times; their effects stack. It will typically choose upgrades which prevent it from being beaten via the same methods it fell to previously.

1 Point: Gain 10 points of resistance to 1 form of elemental damage, or increases its resistance to an element by 10.

1 Point: Increase its natural armor by +1 or its DR/-- by 1.

1 Point: The Disassembler integrates a set of armor and/or a shield it can get ahold of into its body, granting itself the benefits of wearing the armor/shield (AC, magical abilities) but without suffering armor check penalties or speed reductions. It can only integrate one set of armor and one shield at a time.

2 Points: Increase its walk and climb speed by 10ft each, or gain a 10ft swim speed.

2 Points: Gain a +2 profane bonus to a saving throw of its choice.

3 Points: Gain 25% Fortification.

3 Points: Gain 1 feat it qualifies for.

Variable Arms (Ex): The Disassembler's Variable Arms natural attack can switch between slashing, piercing, or bludgeoning damage as a swift action, or change into a tool capable of fine manipulation which also acts as thieves' tools. The construct can also replace its Pneumatic Cleaver with any melee weapon it finds with 1 minute of work, losing its Cleaver attack but allowing it to use that weapon without penalty. It is considered proficient with any weapon it integrates, and wields even two-handed weapons with a single limb.

[queenoftheantz]

Top 5 Anime/Manga characters of all time and why?

oh wow hmmm....

Completely subjectively:

Oikawa Tooru (haikyuu!!)

Oikawa... he is just yknow. My Character. But I also often in my daily life have a little Oikawa in my head reminding me that my passion is my passion because it's fun and I love it. That talent and skill are intertwined but also not static or pre-determined, that I might not be as good as I think I should be, and I might never be, but if I don't try I definitely won't. Maybe I will reach my goal today, or tomorrow, or in 30 years. And I can do it at the pace and path that suits me. He speaks of all this AS WELL as the very bitter feelings that preceeds these revelations. I also really love his focus on facilitating others, of reaching potential together, of trust and faith in his team and their in him!

2. Marcille Donato (Dungeon Meshi)

Oh Marcille. (Manga spoilers here) Marcille started out so silly and to be honest? Annoying? Girly and anxious and squemish. But then you realise that these parts are absolutely true, but she is also determined and loyal and scared and unafraid and skilled. The firly and squemish becomes charming in contrast to her being excited to experience death and morally ambigious enough to use ancient magic or become a dungeon lord. And then you learn even more about her and her family, the way she grew up and how she probably is... pretty young, considering everything. The knowledge and life experience of someone being 40 maybe, but with the brain to handle it of a 19 year old... she is so afraid for everyone to die away and yet she cant help but love people! Isn't that lovely!? And as someone very afraid to lose my parents I really really feel for her relationship with her father. I think Marcille was a character who really illustrates the progression of tone in Dungeon meshi, represents the themes of the story so well, and really grew on me. Also gay. hi.

3. Shinji Ikari (Neon Genesis Evangelion)

I know people don't like this guy but he shaped me so much as a teen. I think his journey through lacking self-esteem and depression and self hatred is both fascinating, nuanced and in the end, encouraging! Imagine being offered to join humanity all as one, never feel rejected or alone again and then DESPITE all he has gone through, chosing to be yourself after all! And frankly I love that the show lets him be cowardly and weak and unsympathetic, it makes him more real and make his strong moments stronger. Also gay. hi

4. Mob (Mob psycho 100)

Mobs story is more low key, but I also enjoy a story about a young boy who FIRST has to find the motivation to improve himself, and THEN has to realise that improving yourself and being a good person does not necessarily mean to surpress any negative or strong emotions. Once again, a story about acceoting yourself, even the sides you have a hard time controlling and find off-putting or scary. And I think Mob gets to realise this in a silly and gently way!

5. Abe takaya (ookiku furikabutte)

Oh Abe. It's that one page. When he is explaining to Sakeaguchi his backstory with Haruna, and he is talking about it so casually, it's no big deal, but you can tell. "Everyone is afraid of pain". It makes my heart clench every time. It's his control-issues, his fast felling into caring about Mihashi as a person, but then slowly realising what that actually means. It's him being shocked by the smile, it's him doing anything to win, it's him not realising how mean he is. In a different story Abe would have been a bully. But fortunately for him Momoe and the team and Mihashi himself are not putting up with any of it and he slowly and also gently improves himself. I gotta catch up with oofuri. (also gay. hi)

Shout outs to: Hinata Shoyo (of course), Mihashi Ren (also of course), Edward Elric, Sophie (Howls moving castle movie), Reigen (im not immune), Tamaki (ohshc, sometimes i just think about him and hes so charming and fun and i relate), Kanamori (Keep your hands off Eizouken!, shes just. so cool. It's a fun show but every time shes on screen im blushing a bit shes just! Wow!), and the straight college student from one of my fave BL's who has to go on a personal journey to accept that he actually likes a man who's bigger and taller than him and has a big ass. Shoutouts to him too.

[moonsandmobilityaids]

The Flu Part 2

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: You get the flu. But for someone with your immune system, the flu is never just the flu. Warnings: Flu, references to seizures Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Your eyelids flutter open, the world a blurry haze of white. The sterile smell of healing potions fills your nostrils, and you can hear the faint rustle of robes as someone moves around the room. Your body feels heavy, as if it’s sinking into the bed, each muscle protesting at the slightest movement.

"Easy there," Madam Pomfrey's voice is soft but firm, her hands gentle as they adjust your position on the infirmary bed. "You've been through quite an ordeal."

A groan escapes your lips as pain lances through your skull, sharp and unyielding. Your eyes flicker to the side, catching sight of three familiar figures huddled near the end of your bed: James, Sirius, and Remus. Their expressions are taut with worry, though they try to hide it when they see you stirring.

"Y/N." James' voice is hoarse, his hand clenched tightly around his wand. "How're you feeling?"

How are you supposed to answer that? Every inch of your body screams in protest, the remnants of your third seizure still rippling beneath your skin. But you manage a weak nod, forcing your parched throat to produce words.

"Tired... so tired..."

The boys exchange glances, their concern palpable even from here. It's not often that you find yourself on the receiving end of such attention but somehow, their presence is comforting. They may play the roles of troublemakers well, but right now, their worry for you is genuine.

Madam Pomfrey bustles over, her face a mask of stern concentration as she checks your vitals. Her touch is light, professional, yet there's a gentleness to it that belies her gruff exterior. With a final pat on your arm, she straightens up, turning to face the Marauders.

“Madam Pomfrey," Remus begins, his voice low and steady. "Is she... will she be okay?"

The matron's expression tightens slightly, her gaze flickering back to you. "She's stable for now," she replies, her tone clipped with professional detachment. But there's a hint of worry in the lines around her eyes—a concern that echoes your own.

"Thank Merlin," James mutters under his breath, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Beside him, Sirius is silent, his grey eyes fixed on your prone form with an intensity that speaks volumes.

A soft sigh escapes Madam Pomfrey's lips as she moves away from your bed, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. She pauses by the infirmary's large windows, her silhouette framed against the setting sun.

"I'll do everything I can," she assures them, though her words seem more to herself than anyone else. "But it's not just the seizure or the flu we need to worry about."

Your ears prick up at this, despite the heaviness dragging at your eyelids. You strain to catch their conversation, each word a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty.

"The flu has hit her hard." Her statement hangs heavy in the air, a stark reminder of your fragile state. "And then the seizure... It's taken a toll on her body. She needs time to recover."

"But we've seen her sick before," James protests, his hands clenched into fists. "She always pulls through."

"Not like this," Madam Pomfrey counters softly. "This isn't just a common cold; it's the flu. And with her weakened immune system..."

The silence stretches on, filling the room with a sense of dread neither you nor the boys can shake off.

"We'll monitor her closely," Madam Pomfrey continues after a moment, sounding more composed now. "If there's no improvement, I may have to transfer her to St. Mungo's."

St. Mungo's. The mere mention of the wizarding hospital sends a chill down your spine—not because of any particular aversion to the place itself, but because of what it represents: danger, uncertainty, a level of severity Hogwarts can't handle.

Your throat tightens, and you force yourself to swallow past the lump forming there. You try to sit up, to protest, to tell them you don't need St. Mungo's, but all that comes out is a weak cough.

"Easy now," Madam Pomfrey murmurs, pushing you gently back onto the bed. "You need to rest."

But how can you rest when their words echo in your head, each one heavier than the last?

"She should stay here," Remus insists, his brow furrowed with concern. "We can help look after her."

"It's not about looking after her, Mr Lupin." The matron's tone is patient, yet firm. "It's about getting her the right treatment. The flu can lead to serious complications—pneumonia, bronchitis, even sepsis—and with her immune system, she's particularly susceptible and while we have better treatments than muggles, they still need to be administered in a real hospital."

Susceptible. Another word that hangs heavy in the air, another reminder of how precarious your situation really is. Your mind races, trying to process everything they're saying, but the effort only amplifies your headache.

James and Sirius exchange glances, their worry barely concealed now. They've seen you ill before, yes, but never quite like this. Never with the threat of being sent away looming so large.

Remus' shoulders tense, his gaze fixed on your pale face. He knows what this means—he's seen you weak and weary more times than he cares to count. But this is different. This time, the stakes are higher, and the outcome far less certain.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what's to come. If anyone can keep everyone together during this crisis, it's him. It has to be him.

Time seems to stretch and warp in the hospital wing, each tick of the clock a reminder that you remain bound by your body's weakness. The air is thick with tension as Madam Pomfrey moves around you, her steps measured and precise.

You drift in and out of consciousness, your dreams fevered and disorienting. Images flash behind your eyelids—shadows dancing on the walls, faces distorted by worry, hands reaching for you through the darkness. Each time you stir, you're met with the same reality: the boys gathered at your bedside, their expressions taut with concern.

They take it in turns to watch over you despite Madam Pomfrey’s insistence they leave and get some rest. But even she knows better than to expect them to abandon you now—not when fear hangs heavy in the room like an unspoken promise.

Sirius sits quietly in one corner, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. It's rare to see him this still, this silent, but the gravity of the situation has stripped away his usual bravado. James paces near the foot of your bed, unable to contain his restless energy. Every so often, he runs a hand through his hair—a telltale sign of his growing anxiety.

But it's Remus who remains a constant presence by your side, his focus unwavering. There's a calmness about him that belies the storm brewing beneath the surface—an anchor amidst the waves of uncertainty threatening to pull everyone under.

****

Your fever continues to rage, a relentless fire that saps your strength and leaves you gasping for air. Every breath is an effort now, each one more laboured than the last.

"Still no change?" Sirius's voice cuts through the haze of discomfort, sounding strained.

Madam Pomfrey shakes her head, her expression tight. "I'm afraid not. The fever should have broken by now."

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. A chill runs down James's spine, countering the warmth from his hand as he brushes away damp hair from your forehead. He wants to believe that you'll pull through—that things will go back to normal soon—but the reality before him paints a different picture.

Time loses meaning in the sterile white expanse of the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey comes and goes, her presence marked by the rustle of robes and the clink of potion bottles. She checks your vitals regularly, muttering under her breath. Each passing hour brings new worry lines to her face—a testament to how dire your condition has become.

There's talk of transferring you to St Mungo’s if there's no improvement by morning. It's a possibility none of them want to consider, but it grows more real with every tick of the clock. The thought sends a shiver through Remus, even as he holds your limp hand within his own.

"No," he whispers, so quiet it could be mistaken for the wind outside. "She'll get better. She has to."

But the doubt lingers like a spectre at the edge of their collective consciousness, feeding off the fear that pulses in the silent room.

A low groan escapes your lips, pulling James from his thoughts. His eyes meet yours—clouded with confusion and pain—and something clenches inside him. You try to speak, the effort visible in the crease of your brow, but only raspy breaths come out.

"Shh, Y/N," James coos, squeezing your hand gently. "Don't strain yourself."

But you persist, pushing past the fatigue that threatens to swallow you whole. "Boys... I..." Your voice is barely audible, carried on a whisper-thin thread of air.

"We're here, love." Sirius leans closer, his grey eyes mirroring your struggle.

You manage a nod, your eyelids fluttering shut once again. But even in your weakened state, you hold onto the connection between you—the shared history, the unspoken promises. It anchors you amidst the storm raging inside your body, providing a beacon of hope when all else seems lost.

The night stretches on, each tick of the clock echoing through the stillness. The moon rises high, casting a ghostly light over Hogwarts and painting long shadows across the hospital wing. James, Sirius, and Remus sit by your bed in silent vigil, waiting for any sign of change.

Sirius checks your temperature again, his touch cool against your heated skin. He doesn't need to glance at the thermometer to know the fever is still burning within you—he can feel it radiating off your body, a cruel reminder of the battle being waged inside.

James rubs his hands together, frustration creasing his brow. His gaze flits around the room, lingering on the various potions and charms Madam Pomfrey has used to no avail. There's an itch beneath his skin, a desperation to do something—anything—to help turn the tide, but he feels as powerless as he did when he first found you in the forest.

Remus watches from the corner of his eye, tracing the lines of worry etched deep into their faces. His own expression remains unreadable, the only hint of his inner turmoil revealed in the way his fingers tighten around yours every now and then. He casts another glance at the clock, noting with a heavy heart that it's been hours since your fever spiked.

The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the occasional shuffle of feet or sigh of resignation. It's a testament to the gravity of the situation, to the uncertainty hanging heavy in the air. A waiting game—that's what this has become—and they're all too aware of the stakes.

[artful-aries]

How They Take Care Of You When You’re Sick (Scaramouche, Diluc, Albedo)

​​Scaramouche:

​​Sorry folks, he’s going to be a total asshole if you’re sick

​​Coughing so much your throat is sore? Sucks to suck. Nose is so stuffy you can’t breathe? Not his problem

​​Honestly has the nerve to make fun of you for getting sick, saying how you’re just so weak for letting a little cold get to you so much

​​Yet when your sickness takes a turn for the worse with high fevers, vomiting, etc., Scaramouche low key becomes concerned

​​He’ll try to keep his remarks going, but they will eventually die in his mouth as he just sighs to hold your hair back from your face as you get sick

​​He tries to actually take care of you a little at that point, but he’s still a bit of a jerk about it; he will demand that you hurry up and eat, stop whining and get more rest, and will remind you that you owe him big time for his efforts

​​Despite his harsh words, Scaramouche does a good enough job to set you on the path of recovery, and once you’re all better he will stop tending to you

​​“You better not get sick like that again, it was a pain,” He would say, almost glaring at you for having the audacity to get sick

​​It is all he will say that would indicate that he was ever concerned about your health in the first place

For a while, he secretly will find ways to slip you herbs that help with the immune system, or will always keep medicine on hand after you recover

​​

​​Diluc:

​​For all his stoicism, the man is worried about your health

​​If you’d let him, he will bring you to Dawn Winery and have you recover under the constant care of his servants, as well as himself

​​He makes himself scarce if you’re too sick to manage bathing by yourself, need help changing clothes, or any task that requires a bit of…intimacy in his mind

​​Regardless if he is already in an established relationship with you or not, Diluc cares about your privacy. He will let the maids take care of those types of needs, unless you specifically request him

​​He is more than happy to bring you food himself or keep you company in your room. Not that he’s the talkative type, but he will do it if it aids your recovery

​​Diluc sort of hovers near your room, making sure that if you ever needed something he would be right there to hear your call. It makes him nervous that there isn’t anything he can do but wait out your sickness

​​Hires the best doctor he can to routinely come and check on you though, so thankfully your sickness never gets too terrible

​​Diluc is relieved when you’re finally on the mend, you can almost visibly see the tension evaporating from his body

​​If you try to repay him for his efforts, he will not have it, saying that it was his duty to help you while you were in need

​​He is totally one that would wind up getting sick after taking care of you, he was just too much of a worrywart to stay away

​​

​​Albedo:

​​Having Albedo treat you is basically just like having a doctor on call 24/7

​​It is RARE that any of your sicknesses get beyond the point of a mild cough or sniffle, because he is keeping track of your health at an absurdly detailed level

On the off chance that your illness does get to the point of being something like a flu or worse, Albedo is very attentive

​​He makes all of your medicine himself, using alchemy to enhance the effects, as well as making various cooling lotions and such to help keep your fever down

​​Admittedly, the medicine he makes tastes HORRIBLE, but he insists that he had to sacrifice taste to improve efficient. You wonder if it’s worth being sick for longer if you can avoid the awful aftertaste it leaves in your mouth

​​The downside is he is too focused on you making a recovery. You will lay down and rest, and no amount of “I’m bored and I need to walk around a bit” will convince him otherwise

​​It’s how he shows his love and concern, though it can be mildly frustrating and annoying that he is stubborn about it

​​Refuses to give you affection beyond a pat of the head, and will go into extensive detail on how germs and disease spread if you ask him why he won’t kiss you

​​It’s not that he doesn’t like kissing you, but physical affection is the last thing that’s on his mind when you’re sick. He is hyper focused in his goal of getting you well again

​​Once he finally clears you of your sickness, he will pull you into a light hug and tell you that he is happy that you’re feeling well again

​​It’s almost worth putting up with how bossy he can be when your sick, seeing him turn so soft when you’re well again

[thefisherqueen]

The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster. I was removed from my brigade and attached to the Berkshires, with whom I served at the fatal battle of Maiwand. There I was struck on the shoulder by a Jezail bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery. I should have fallen into the hands of the murderous Ghazis had it not been for the devotion and courage shown by Murray, my orderly, who threw me across a pack-horse, and succeeded in bringing me safely to the British lines. Worn with pain, and weak from the prolonged hardships which I had undergone, I was removed, with a great train of wounded sufferers, to the base hospital at Peshawar. Here I rallied, and had already improved so far as to be able to walk about the wards, and even to bask a little upon the verandah, when I was struck down by enteric fever, that curse of our Indian possessions. For months my life was despaired of, and when at last I came to myself and became convalescent, I was so weak and emaciated that a medical board determined that not a day should be lost in sending me back to England.

This is a touching look back at the severity of the injury and infection that Watson sustained in his army time. I'm no expert on traumatic injury and infection, but I think it is safe to assume that a shattered bone will never fully heal, and that a months-long hospital stay, in a barely concious state, will leave chronic damage to for example lung and muscle tissue, perhaps would have led to a certain amount of organ failure and reduced/over-active immunity as well. Some life long amount of chronic pain and exertion fatigue, at least, is surely to be expected.

Holmes, living together with Watson, would of course know. It's easy to imagine Watson coming into the living room at an impossible time in the night because his shoulder just feels wrong and he can't sleep anymore, only to find Holmes similary awake. Or to imagine those two investigating a murder and Watson having to stop for few minutes to rest because he just can't get enough air. I'd like to imagine Holmes treating Watson not with pity or pressure, but with understanding and sympathy, similary as to how Watson treats Holmes' mental health problems

[hayanwulf]

Can you write StrangeFrost with both of them being powerful magic wielders and nobody knows why they team up but then they start flirting with each other heavily and everyone is shocked. Or if that’s too long just have them flirting. That’s something I would love to see :)

I don’t know why, my brain always thinks that the default mode of flirting between them is throwing condescending remarks and backhanded compliments.

Anyway. This is pretty mild lol, but I think I'll likely continue this in the future.

---

The battle ended early; thanks to two resident magic users who had shown up and made it a point to end it as quickly as possible in a game of one-upping each other, making everyone else’s efforts look like a drop in the bucket.

Darn magic. Tony hated magic.

“That was overkill,” Natasha remarked when everyone regrouped back in the Quinjet. “One of you could’ve helped with search & rescue while the other handled the actual fight.”

“You ask an impossible task of them,” Thor said. “The infinity beer wizard and my brother have been inseparable as of late.”

‘Infinity beer wizard’? Peter mouthed at Tony, frowning.

‘He can drink that much,’ He mouthed back. He deemed it best to not let the underage Spiderling know about Stephen’s little magic trick to conjure infinite amount of alcohol. Though, he was sure that Stephen would never just hand a mug of beer to the kid, still, Peter’s puppy eyes were a force to be reckoned with, one he knew even Stephen wasn’t immune to.

Both magic users scoffed at Thor’s remark.

“We’re not inseparable,” Stephen hissed, pointing an accusing finger at Loki, “He keeps breaking into my Sanctum to steal books.”

Loki rolled his eyes, crossing his hands and casually leaning against a wall of the Quinjet. “And are we not going to mention the notes I leave behind on how to improve your antiquated usage of magic?”

“Oh, you mean your personal opinions on a magic style completely different from Asgard’s?”

“They have plenty of useful insights, if you have the eyes for it.” Loki leaned away from the wall, slowly sauntering closer and closer to Stephen.

“I don’t know,” Stephen seemed to match his steps, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “All that my eyes spy is ..rather unimpressive.”

Loki’s eyes glinted with green magic. The two stood only an inch apart, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

“I am more than prepared to go another round with you, second-rate sorcerer,” the Asgardian said in a voice so deep and low, it wouldn’t have been audible had it not been for the utter silence in the Quinjet.

Tension was heavy in the air.

And it was far from the kind of tension one would expect here.

Thor, Tony realized, was looking deeply troubled by now, ready to jump in and stop his brother from possibly stabbing Stephen. Tony pulled him back by an arm and didn’t let go, watching the exchange between the two magicians with growing amusement.

Stephen smirked. “For a god of mischief, you’re surprisingly predictable.”

Loki had a retort right on his tongue, but before he could spit it out, a portal opened behind him, shooting orange ropes that firmly wrapped around Loki.

“Escape this in less than thirty minutes,” Stephen spoke, “And I’ll consider going another round.”

“You—” Loki started, but he was already swallowed by the portal which then quickly closed, leaving everyone to just stare and blink at what had just happened.

“Loki!?” Thor freed himself from Tony’s weak human hold to go and grip Stephen’s shoulders. “Wizard, what did you do to my brother!”

Stephen sighed. “Nothing of harm, I assure you. We do this all the time.”

“..You mean throwing each other into places full of eldritch monsters?” Clint spoke up, apparently having caught a glimpse of the other side of the portal. “That’s normal?”

“Most of those are passive, actually,” Stephen dismissively told him, walking over to the same wall where Loki had been leaning, and leaned himself there. A little to the left of Loki’s would-be place, Tony noted. “And it’s good exercise to break each other’s traps. So, yes, that’s normal.”

Silence fell over the group, and Tony couldn’t help but look curiously at Stephen. Something was most definitely going on between the two magic users.

Come to think of it, what exactly were they referring to when they were saying ‘rounds’?

“Sooo..” Peter spoke up, hopping closer to Stephen. “Mr. Stark told me that you can just magic infinite beer into existence?”

Stephen shot Tony a look of betrayal, who just stared, jaw on the floor.

“That’s literally not what I told you, kid!”

[natalie-the-chimera]

Snake appreciation month: Headcanons

Family:

Many imagine Cedric coming or being taken from some shapeshifter tribe/village or from the streets, going from rags to riches. But what if he was rich from the start?

Shapeshifters, especially big and strong like Cedric, are a very powerful force in battle. One of these could deal with a whole squad of soldiers. So it's better to keep such creatures close, giving them wealth and power so they won't turn on you in the future.

I wonder if the green dude is Cedric's distant relative

Coming back to Cedric's family, I see them as nobles with a ancient lineage, possibly going back to the times of the first Escanor. And of course members of the Hoffman family are proud of their background and shapeshifting abilities, making arranged marriages with other noble families to improve their bloodline. And so we came to Richard and Rovena Hoffman aka Cedric's Mom and Dad.

It was another arranged marriage. Richard's family were humans, much less wealthy than Hoffmans, so it was a win-win situation for both (it's actually my friend's headcanon): shapeshifters prefer to have kids from another shapeshifter or human, so their child will keep the ability to transform. Having children from galahots or changelings (like Elyon's foster parents) is objectionable because of the risk of losing that ability. Cedric's parents weren't in love but they didn't hate each other, acting like respectful partners.

And so, our little snake boy was born.

Cedric's childhood was a normal childhood of a kid from a wealthy family: studying with mentors, starting from etiquette and music to the arts of war. His favourite were history and strategy and the most of all — politics. This was causing disagreements with his mother. Rovena, who had already planned her son's future, as well as his possible children and grandchildren's, served Veira's parents and saw enough dirt, corruption and the kingdom being on the edge of civil war. Of course she didn't want such fate to their only son. Richard, on the other hand, supported his son's ambitions, being some kind of a bridge between teen Cedric and distant Rovena.

Everything changed when Cedric turned 16. Snake shapeshifters have a great immunity to poisons and diseases unlike humans. His father perished from an illness, making his mother even more distant and cold and leaving him with a ton of responsibilities, expectations and pressure. The family estate was becoming more cold, dark and uncomfortable for him so he wanted to grow further, to bring honor to his family. Eventually, Rovena gave up, meeting Queen Veira and young Phobos at the royal meeting, and agreed to send Cedric to the castle as prince's new mentor. If only she knew what will happen years after...

Cedric's character:

*pats his head* "This tired angy boy can fit so much bottled emotions in him"

Oh man, where can I even start...

Well, it all starts in the family. If you think that being a kid from a noble family means doing nothing, think again. Especially if you have a cold, strict and demanding mother, preparing you to be a head of the family since the moment you learned how to walk. I headcanon that Cedric was raised with a thought that showing true emotions was considered a weakness. "She worries. Worry keeps her weak" (c) Cedric about Elyon, s1 ep21

The problem is, that we aren't golems made of stone. And Cedric already had quite an emotional baggage before arriving to the castle: the death of his father and the pressure of now being responsible for the wellbeing of the family. Soon, death of Queen and Prince-consort and following struggle for power among nobles and start of the rebellion added more pressure on his nerves. And all he could do was bottling up his emotions until the breaking point. He could blow off steam on the battlefield but after becoming Phobos' advisor he needed to stay near the prince.

Oh, the prince...

I think, Cedric was in charge for literally everything or at least controlling the ones who were responsible for everything. Army, searching for spies, exploring portals, maintaining the castle and the most important — searching for the princess. For 13 years. Plus the guardians, old and new. Oh, forgot to add that Meridian is slowly decaying without its Heart. And Phobos being disappointed and impatient after every fail. And he also got almost no sleep because of the timezones on Meridian and Earth. All I want to say that our big boy have severe anger issues, probably trashing his chambers after an especially hard day of losing to the guardians the 5th time this week and getting yelled at. He even can't just get drunk and pass out, because his body is immune to alcohol.

Just give him a long-long vacation.

Some minor headcanons I carry in my head:

Cedric can purr in his snake form. Not like a cat but more like a crocodile. He does that when he is happy and comfortable and the last time it happened when he was 15.

He betrayed Phobos in s2 mostly because the prince turned him in the worm and he wanted revenge: to humilate him, make him small and defenceless. And after that he started his crusade with Heatherfield, to destroy the home of the guardians. " Phobos wanted more power and I took it all away. You were messing with me and my world, now I'll destroy yours." If Cedric managed to win, I think he would just go on a murder spree, destroying everything and everyone who could go against him.

(comic) Cedric wasn't free of Phobos even after the prince took a leap of fate from Condrakar's tower. Years of abuse don't go away that easily, so his mind could occasionally went back thinking about Phobos or having nightmares with him. He didn't tell anyone about it, even Orube.

He sleeps hugging something, mostly a pillow. If you got into these snake hugs and try to get out he will constrict his arms or tail harder without waking up.

Even if Cedric can swallow a human or a large animal whole, he rarely does that, preferring to tear his prey up. If he eats too much at once, he becomes sleepy. Also, living prey can start struggling and kicking which can damage his teeth, throat or esophagus.

In series we see him in his snake form when he arrives to the bookshop. So, maybe he got rid of its previous owner...

He rarely opens up to anyone but if he does...Get ready for a several hours of pure bitching and complaining about his life. (He absolutely deserves it)

He looks serious and gloomy but he can be quite sarcastic, mostly making dark jokes.

The series were for kids but I think he actually swears a lot when he doesn't have to act as a noble man. He is also quite violent and, while in human form, can transform his mouth and jaw to bite his opponent's face off when he is tired to play nice.

His eyes can glow in the dark, he also can look at someone for a long time without blinking when he is threatening them to scare the shit out of them.

[redlemon]

Minecraft Villager Rework Concept !

Minecraft Villager designs are antisemitic. They're huge-nosed, money-hungry, weak and ugly humans who are technologically primitive compared to the player, and they make Golems for crying out loud. All of that is already enough for it to be incredibly obvious, but I really refuse to believe it's some huge coincidence or whatever when they were made by Markus "Believing in race based privilege needing to be checked fits the literal definition of racism" Persson. They're antisemitic. I'm not going to argue with devil's advocates about this.

So, how can we improve Villagers? I thought of a simple change - Make them Piglins! Villagers were originally gonna be Pigmen anyway, so why not? It's the best way to fix this in my eyes. To be clear, their clothing and would stay the same, but they're remodelled to be Piglins instead. Perhaps a more tame variant resembling overworld Pigs?

Illagers and the witch too, for that matter! The Illagers could still be greyskinned, or they could just look more Piglin Brute-like. Obviously, the ominous banner and the many wool-statures of Illagers would also have to change. The Ravager could have a slight overhaul to make it more Hoglin-like, but would stay mostly the same. A twisted Magic experiment on an ordinary pig, perhaps.

The Iron Golems would also change a little bit. They'd stay mostly the same though, they'd just get a slightly more pig-like face and a name change - "The Iron Guardian". (And also, "Snow Golem" -> "Snow Guardian", no visual changes).

It would also have some lore implications that make sense to me. The Piglins likely don't come from the Nether, as they're one of the only Nether Mobs who don't have natural fire resistance. Ghasts, Wither Skeletons, Striders, Blazes, Magma Cubes? All immune. But not Piglins.

So, maybe a culture of Piglins ventured into the Nether, and got stuck. The harsh invironment bred a harsh culture. The trading once integral to their way of life became faster and quicker, as to not waste too much time with it, and to have plenty of opportunity to screw others over for your own benefit, and bartering was born. There's no emeralds to be found in the Nether, so they attributed value to a different treasure instead - gold. They attack the player because they don't know what the hell the player is. They could be dangerous, or an easy mark. It's only when the player wears gold - a Nether-Piglin symbol of power - that the Piglins know not to mess with them. As well as this, the Hoglins could be descended from overworld pigs, adapted to the Nether.

When Hoglins and Nether-Piglins enter the overworld, they very quickly get zombified. This pokes a bit of a hole in this concept and lore, but there's definitely a plausible explination somebody could pull out of their ass. Maybe it could be due to them not having as high a tolerence to the undead virus. Maybe the feature could just be removed, or something else I haven't thought of.

Obviously, I don't expect Mojang to actually do something like this. Whether I like it or not, Villagers are a pretty big part of Minecraft's brand. However, it would be a very cool mod. I might look into modding to see if I can make something like that happen, actually. If I do I'd definitely try to give it compatibility with the Guard Villagers mod.