#he grew it out in honor of his son (who he thought was dead)

[forever-eternal]

Hello 👋. Its 4 a.m and I can’t sleep. Have five of my Family Ties States.

[the-storyteller78]

Headcanon:

Telemachus used to have long hair. His mother always told him that long hair—and the ability to keep it without it getting cut off during battle—was the mark of a good warrior. She told him his father, the mighty Odysseus, the man of many devices, had long hair for much of his youth.

(What she doesn't tell him is that Odysseus went to war with shorn hair and red-rimmed eyes, because leaving his family behind was a cause for mourning far worse than a war lost.)

And so Telemachus, young and bright and quite without the father he so adored, grew out his hair. It got to be quite long indeed, and if his father had been there to witness it, he would have sung his dear son's praises, boasting of his honor and dignity and patience to anyone who would listen. But Odysseus was not there, and all Telemachus had of him were stories and desperate imitation. Still, there was comfort in even those, like his father might be watching over him in some odd way he couldn't sense. The thought gave him strength.

The more benign suitors dismissed the change. Let the boy have his hair, they said, chuckling with faint fondness. What is the harm? Even our little prince must become a man at some point.

But the other suitors, the ones who schemed with malice in their eyes as they watched Telemachus pass by them with a new confidence in the set of his shoulders, saw the danger in allowing this to continue.

The maids were on their side. It wasn't difficult for a few of them to find their way into Telemachus' room in the dead of night and cut his hair with quiet, nimble hands.

Telemachus knows it was suitors. The incident is never brought up again, and he never tells anyone the truth of the matter, not even Penelope. But he can no longer sleep as soundly as he once did, and he no longer tries to grow out his hair.

He isn't brave enough to try.

[abominable-space-they]

A OnePiece (LuLaw ZoSan NamVi end game) Au in which the Strawhats all start out on other crews

Zoro is a Buggy Lieutenant, Nami, Vivi, & Usopp have a crew of grifters & pick pockets, Sanji & Law grew up together & are both Donquixote Lieutenants.

Luffy was raised by Crocodile & shares Baroque Works 2nd in command w/ Robin. They're code named the Gemini Twins. No one knows if they're actually twins or even really siblings.

They don't know if they're siblings either, Crocodile gets extremely evasive anytime the subject of who Robin's biological father might have been. She only knows he was a higher up in the revolutionary army.

Luffy grew up believing in both his dads' visions for a 🌈 utopia until Alabasta falls. Finding out Crocodile doesn't want freedom for everyone, but to lead a world he thinks is perfect for him, that Dragon lied about Sabo being dead, that neither of them had really been doing much revolution for all these decades. It was the final straw for Luffy.

By the end of the Alabasta arc he's not mad at his dads exactly, just disappointed.

He was raised to believe in something they're not even really actually living.

Realizing his dad's dreams aren't his own, is a turning point for Luffy. He realizes it's time for him to strike out on his own. So leaves Baroque Works determined to figure out and pursue his own dream.

Robin goes with him bc she's intrigued by his determination before he even knows what he does believe in, what he wants his dream to be. Neither of them were raised to believe in their own dreams, only their parents'.

She thought it would be interesting to see what Luffy would do with his new found freedom & this unrelenting faith he had in himself and the people he chose.

And if it turned out that it was feasible to pursue their own dreams... well she had a few secret wishes of her own. She could be convinced to believe... maybe.

The first place Luffy goes in figuring out what his dream is, is to visit uncles. Mishuggy did a lot of raising him & they're the first ppl that come to mind when he thinks of dreams.

While they visit Shanks gets his dad's hat out of storage and gives it to Luffy. He tells Luffy that that's for dreamers. Luffy swears he'll cherish it, honor it by finding his own dream.

Luffy & Zoro immediately hit it off. Zoro isn't unhappy in Buggy's crew.

Buggy found him when he was lost. Buggy never judged him, taught him about the power of dreams & belonging. But Zoro's never had his own dreams either, only Kuina's, only Buggy's.

Meeting Luffy is life changing. Zoro doesn't really know what his own dream might be yet and he's still determined to become the greatest swordsman in the world, but he's curious about the possibility of his own dreams.

The potential seems important.

Zoro & Luffy make a pact to find their own dreams together. Luffy doesn't know he wants to be Pirate king yet but he believes in himself, he believes in them.

They find Usopp in some no name village on a no account island.

Luffy immediately adores him & his stories, calls him family when he finds out he's Yasopp's son.

He invites Usopp to travel with them for awhile. Usopp accepts.

3 Islands & some hijinks later, Nami confronts them. Luffy was supposed to be their crew's mark but Usopp couldn't go through with it by the time they got where they were going. He'd been dodging her for two Islands, unsure what to do.

Usopp has always been so full of dreams. He wants to believe, he wants to find his own most important dreams too.

Luffy isn't upset they were gonna steal from him. He thinks it's pretty funny actually. He hadn't had anything to steal since he left Baroque Works. He invites their whole crew to travel with them to find their own dreams 2gther

Besides Nami, Usopp, and Vivi, their crew consists of Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, Chopper, Carrot, & Franky.

They'd been targeting Robin & Luffy, for Vivi, because they thought they were still Baroque Works. The fact that they'd both left... specifically because of what Baroque Works, what Crocodile did to Alabasta, changed things... though Nami and Vivi weren't sure exactly how yet

Nami scofffs at the idea of traveling with two ex Baroque Works agents and some grumpy green haired freak from the clown crew. She didn't believe in anything... definitely not redemption... well she hadn't before she met Vivi anyway.

Usopp knows Nami though , they've been best friends since she accidentally helped him trick The Black Cat Pirate Captain into exposing himself to the whole of Syrup village and leaving in disgrace.

It turned out there was power in the right story told at the the right time.

So Usopp knows Nami, maybe better then he knows himself. Though contradicting her makes him cringe, he can't help himself.

"Nami!!! You're just scared he'll convince you too! It's not that easy to betrayLuffy !!"

Nami scofffs at that too but ultimately let's her pride convince her to agree

Just to prove Usopp wrong of course

... and to make sure Luffy and Robin really are reformed (and broke)

Sanji is the Donquixote warlord style ambassador to Iva's Revolutionary Queens, so he's kinda dual enrolled.

He's a Donquixote Lieutenant but he spends half his time working with Iva & the Queens. His knowledge of statecraft, the celestial dragons, & world royal families, make Mr Princess almost indispensable to them.

Sanji is enthralled by Luffy's determination to find his own dream... & maybe maybe Zoro a little too. He knows there's always been someone else he's supposed to be besides a apy. When Luffy finds out Sanji cooks, loves to cook, misses cooking, he loses his mind with excitement, asks if Sanji would cook for him. Sanji's shy about it at first, he hasn't cooked for anyone but Law & Cora for years & those two... well getting them to eat anything was a chore. Much less anything new or experimental.

But Sanji's a master chef & Luffy loves to eat. He needn't have worried.

Iva encourages him to go find himself & his own dream. Iva promises to handle Doflamingo so he wouldn't have The Donquixote Brothers outraged over his leaving.

Sanji joins them on their travels. Luffy is delighted to have a chef on staff... and Zoro... well Zoro would never admit it out loud but he thinks he might have met his match in Sanji. Sparring with him is one of the most exciting things he's experienced since the first time he picked up a sword, since the first time he put Wado between his teeth.

All he ever wants to do is fight with Sanji, Sanji is more then happy to oblige him.

They argue constantly, neither of them have ever been happier.

The Strawhats meet Law later, they're getting notorious in their own right by nos. While they're not out for blood, Law was sent to collect his wayward blood brother and bring him back home.

Doffy doesn't like feeling left behind. It makes him extra twitchy.

Of course Luffy convinces Law to travel with them too, while he's finding his own dream.

Law swears he's doing it against his will... at first, just to convince Sanji to come back home so he doesn't have to listen to Doffy's theatrics for months.

As they travel looking for their own dreams, Luffy gets increasingly frustrated with how many of their new friends aren't free to pursue their dreams either. Frustrated that children aren't allowed to grow into the people they want to be, that so many people in the world are to busy trying to survive, to have the luxury of really living.

Law cynically tells Luffy that no one's free to pursue their own dreams. His whole pursuit is naive. He should give up

(secretly Law hopes he never does)

Law, frowning: The only person who's completely free in this world is the king of the pirates. So unless you're planning on becoming the king of the pirates, you're out of luck.

Luffy, smiling so wide, he looks like he could eat the world in one satisfied bite: That's it Torao. I'M GONNA BE THE KING OF THE PIRATES!

Law isn't used to believing in things, but being around Luffy these last months has been changing him. Amazingly enough he believes Luffy... he believes in him.

Under his fluffy hat Trafalgar Law smiles a small secret smile. The pirate king, what a ridiculous dream. If it was anyone else he would laugh... But Luffy might actually be able to pull it off.

Law: pirate king huh? Well show me what you're made of Strawhat ya, make me a believer.

And oh yes, Luffy would. He made everyone a believer eventually. He could convince Trafalgar Law to believe in him.

That was just who Luffy was...

The future king of the pirates

[bats-and-birds-24]

Daughter of a Dark Angel:

Disappointment.

It was the first thing he felt when he first held his daughter.

Primarch Guilliman and Lion' El Johnson had just recently agreed to allow the astartes to reproduce, so that it would be easier to get neophytes who were compatible with their Primarch's geneseed.

Even if they weren't compatible, or were girls, they would have an iron will of an astartes, and would bolster the Imperium's numbers against Chaos.

Yet, most marines still preferred to have a strong son, one who will one day join their ranks as a battle brother. So when his assigned partner passed away, delivering only a tiny, premature girl, his hopes for an heir were dashed.

He could not simply be assigned another concubine right after one had just died, that would be callous. As dictated by the Codex Astartes. Not that he believed in any of it, he held no love for his now deceased partner. He only wanted a son.

He sighed. With her dead, the burden of raising the infant fell on him. As though he didn't have enough to worry about. This was also deemed necessary by the Codex, to encourage a 'parental bond'. He tutted in annoyance, he was an astartes, he was beyond such baseline emotions.

At first, he only cared for her out of duty, but as she grew older, he began to see her potential. Her mind was quick, even for a child sired by a space marine. She grasped concepts that would have been beyond most children her age.

If only she had been born male, he lamented.

One day his little daughter came up to him when he was on break and asked him what her job in the Imperium would be. He managed to give her a vague answer which seemed to satisfy her for the time being.

However, the question still lingered in his mind. What would she do, now that she was here? She had a quick mind, and once her body's development catches up to that of a normal child, maybe she could join the Sisters of Battle.

He mind balked at the thought, his daughter ending up as one of those shrill harpies worshipping a man who never wanted to be a god revulsed him. She deserved better than that.

He then thought of the mechanicus. This too, disgusted him. They too worshipped a god, their omnissiah. And the thought of having to witness his little girl cutting of pieces of her own flesh, only to replace them with sterile metal made him want to vomit.

Any other options such as being a serf, or a remembrancer were so laughably beneath her station as a child of an astartes that he didn't even bother thinking about them.

He grumbled in dissatisfaction as he glanced over at the little cot his daughter slept in.

There were no good roles for women in this Imperium, the best life he could provide for a woman of her standing was marrying her off to a wealthy planetary governer, or beneath that, a fellow astartes. If she proved her mettle in political affairs, she could then join the ranks of the Inquisitors.

Satisfied in his decision for her future he drifted off to sleep.

The next few years were filled with stacks of books he had borrowed from the ship's library and papers that he personally corrected as he attended to his daughter's education.

As she became a young woman, almost in the blink of an eye, (he chided himself, normal baselines aged faster than enhanced transhumans, he cannot forget that) the proposals started to roll in.

Most were from fellow battle brothers looking for a concubine. They were Dark Angels, so they didn't think to ask the girl herself, asking her father would be good enough.

He went through, and declined them at an astonishing speed. Most were too old for his little girl, and the younger ones were too brash. The last thing he wanted was for his daughter to be left a widow as her reckless husband ran straight to his death.

Until that message came.

A new planetary governer had been selected, and after going through his child's credentials, they had decided that she would make the perfect wife and First Lady of the planet.

It was a great honor that she had been selected.

That was what he told himself as he met the man who was to become his son in law. He was childish, naive, and handsy towards her. He disliked him immediately. But he grit his teeth as he repeated the mantra in his head; 'it is a great honor'.

He stoically saw her off to her planet. He remembered as she continued to wave at him even after their ship had left the ground.

He remembered when he only returned to her side decades later, him having only gained a few scars, while his child looked as though she was on death's doorstep.

This was why he didn't want a daughter, he wouldn't be able to stay by her side, he would lose her too soon. He despaired at the short amount of time he still had left with her.

The two talked of her life, how the bastard he had married her off to, was an irresponsible and cruel leader. Going so far as to try to get rid of her, so that he could replace her with his mistress.

By the time the mess had been dealt with, she had lost three of her fingers on her right hand, only the thumb and pinky finger still being intact.

He raged at the injustice, if only he could've gotten his hands on that imbecile, he would have been nothing more than a fine red mist by the time he finished.

Nevertheless, she had proved her mettle, and became the planetary governor in his stead.

This led to a huge quality of life improvement for the citizens.

Resources that had originally been extracted by a constantly abused, destitute workforce were replaced by a respectable, dutiful, healthy population renowned for their inventions and craftsmanship.

She had built schools and hospitals, and homes and libraries. She had taken a backwater people and turned them into proud, productive members of the Imperium.

By the end of her story, she had only one request to make of him;

"Hold my hand while I sleep, just for tonight Da'."

She made him pinky promise, as though she were a child again. Her wrinkled hand with three stubs, contrasting his own strong, muscled one.

She passed away that night.

When he returned to his quarters the next day, the mask cracked. He wept in despair at the loss of his Daughter.

Why didn't he love her more? Why did he have to marry her away to that scum? Why was he ever disappointed in having such a brilliant woman as his child?

When he came back to attend her funeral, he saw that the entire planet was in mourning. She had changed the lives of everyone around her.

He listened to the stories of baselines as they regaled him with tales of her selflessness and valor.

By the end of the event, he had no more tears to shed, his anger at himself and at the injustices of her life had dissipated. There was only one emotion left.

Pride.

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

So this whole story was written because I couldn't get the thought of a Dark Angel having to come to terms with having a Daughter instead of a son in the astartes can take concubines au we had going on a while back.

@kit-williams @moodymisty @mothiir @the-raven-lady @bispecsual

[five-rivers]

Ancestral Chapter 21

Probably the last one for this month, if not this year. Written for ectober day 27: circus gothica (yes, I am behind).

.

Somehow, Danny wasn’t even surprised at this point.  

"Yeah, I, um.  I met the guy, once?"

"Sorry?" said Gwensyvyr.

At the same time, Jazz asked, "Who?"

"Pariah Dark," said Danny.

"He is supposed to be sealed."  Gwensyvyr's form briefly flickered back to her battle regalia.  This close, Danny could see that each of her braids had a spiked chain woven into it, starting low enough down that the spikes would bounce off the back of her armor, not the back of her head.  

"He was," Danny hastened to reassure her.  "He is.  He just.  Got out for a little bit.  Last year."

Gwensyvyr leaned back, her elbow phasing slightly through the chair.  She covered her mouth with her opposite hand.  "It seems my suspicions might not be as far-fetched as I thought before.  If he was out at all, they might have–" She stopped.  "You still need to know the whole story."

Matthew's phone began to tweedle.  He snatched it up with a look of panic on his face.  "Sorry!  I need to take–" The panic transformed into a kind of exhausted horror as he stared at the phone.  "Does our honored ancestor know about phones?  I mean…"  He looked back and forth between Danny and the phone, which was still ringing.  

"She knows about phones," said Danny, unsure whether to be amused or not.  

Matthew seemed to take this as permission, because he answered the phone.  “Yes, did you find it?”  He was silent for a moment.  “No?  Do you know what happened?  Could he have moved it to some other spot?  No, no, I understand.  If possible, please keep looking.  It’s very important.  Goodbye.”  He put down the phone.  “That was Aldryk Wylfred, his father was one of grandfather’s close friends.  He’d been named a Knight of the Key, and given one of the Great Gate Keys to safeguard…  His key is missing.  I’m waiting on the other Knights of the Keys.”

“I had hoped it was not so.”

“Is… no one going to ask why Danny knows someone that Queen Gwensyvyr fought?” asked Leo.  “Or how?”

“Well, he was a ghost at the time,” said Danny.  “But we really ought to…”  He waved at Gwensyvyr.  “Listen.  And stuff.”

Yeah, he wasn’t going to be able to get away with that for much longer.  

“Thank you,” said Gwensyvyr.  "But if you met Pariah Dark, you know what he became."

"King of Ghosts."

"He thought of himself that way, yes," said Gwensyvyr.  "It is not something Artyr and I considered, when we killed him.  Nor did any of the ghosts and spirits who haunted him and wanted him dead as badly as we did."

“His name really was Arthur, then,” said Lewis, who had taken out a notebook at some point.  "Your husband."

“In his birthplace, perhaps.  He was named after a famed king of that land, long dead, as I understand it, then and now.  It has made our respective legends rather confused, at times.  

"With me, he was always Artyr.  He was trained as a blacksmith, which was why they kept him.  Such skills are valuable still, as you well know.”  She nodded to the ritual knives many of them had set on the table, and then again to the knives Irene had set the table with.  "He made the very first of those.  To kill Pariah."

"Why?" asked Danny.  "Why did you need that?  Wasn't he human, then?"

Gwensyvyr shook her head.  "Not entirely," she said.  "Not anymore.  He had his men desecrate the pool.  Mine was not the only blood spilled in it that day, and they did more than that.  They threw trash into it.  They blocked off the spring.  They did things in it too foul to speak of.  They cut down the tree and burned it.  But not before Pariah and his sons ate every single apple that grew on it that year."

"They were syvyrys," said Danny.  "That's why you needed a knife that could cut a ghost."

"Not like I was and not like you are, but, yes.  They had already had some measure of magic to them - that is how they cut down the nine of us priestesses.  Numbers alone did not do that.  But the apples gave them terrible power.  

"They took me and the others they had chosen as slaves - beautiful girls and men with valuable skills, for the most part - back to their homeland.  The islands were not the only place he had taken slaves from, though they were always quite careful not to ever take so many as to be outnumbered.  So, there, I met Artyr.  There, we plotted.  There, I came into my powers.  There, I killed Pariah Dark.

"But to my continuing regret, I did not kill his sons."

"You think they have something to do with all this," said Matthew.

"Or their descendants," said Gwensyvyr.  "They are the only syvyrys I ever knew of who could use blood blossoms like that.  They were always doing some new, terrible thing.  We had more spirits on our side than they did, even with their ridiculous cult, so they spent much of their time making new weapons against them.  They had ways to keep themselves and their spirits safe from blood blossoms that we never learned.  They had ways to imbue objects with their powers.  At one point, they used some alchemy to make this sphere of red glass that could control most ghosts and even tugged on my mind…"  She trailed off.  "You've encountered that, too, haven't you?"

Danny squirmed.  "Maybe."

"How?" asked Gwensyvyr.  "Why?"

"It was–" He looked at the rest of his family.  "It was– This crazy circus ringmaster had it and was using it to make ghosts rob banks and jewelry stores for him."

"Are you talking about Freakshow?" asked Jazz.

"Freakshow?"

"His real name was Frederick Isaac Showenhower," offered Jazz.  "At least, that was his pen name."

"Amazing," said Gwensyvyr.  “We ought to sit down and talk about all of the history you managed to run into despite living an ocean away and under a different name.  But– Showenhower.  That has a German root, doesn’t it?  There was some suspicion that the younger son had fled to that area after betraying his brothers…  I’m getting ahead of myself.  

“While Artyr and I worked at cleansing the sacred pool, reviving the tree, and healing the other damage done by Pariah’s attack, Pariah’s sons built up a cult around their father’s ghost.  A group of fanatics that stayed loyal even in death.  

“They attacked Avlynys again when I was pregnant with my second daughter, seeking revenge and the power of the sacred pool.  Imagine for a moment, such a battle between syvyrys and spirits.  The sky was shattered with lightning, the air green with power.  Trees uprooted themselves to take part in the fighting.  The dead sacrificed themselves to take up their buried corpses.  I myself fought Pariah in his glory, bolstered by prayers and sacrifice, wearing a crown of fire and a ring forged from the souls of a hundred berserkers.  I banished him through the pond, whose door had been stuck open since it drank of my blood.  

“It broke the ground beneath the pond and spring, and the spring sank deep underground where, to the best of my knowledge, it still rests.”

“That’s the portal in Andyr?” asked Danny.  “Just checking to make sure.”

“The pond, yes,” said Gwensyvyr.  “Kyr Argyn was built on the rift - we also used it as a silver mine for a while.  Very useful, for a newly-formed country.”  Her lips twitched up.  “Artyr also enjoyed the chance to learn silversmithing.  I do appreciate your attempts to get back the Kyp Styrryse, Lwys.  It took him a hundred years to get that good.”  She made a face.  “It was also a great aid when maintaining the pool.  Having it again would be very good.”

“Oh,” said Lewis.  “I, well, I’m working on it.  But– A hundred years?”

“Artyr died in that battle, but he did not leave.  We had three more children, after, though they were… strange.  Even now, he has not left, though he sleeps with many of the other spirits of this land.

“After we had driven off Pariah’s sons, we found the pool again.  It took time and a great deal of effort even with magic, and once we did, we were determined that no one should use it for evil ever again, and that even if all of us should die - me, and my children, who numbered three, only, at the time, and my closest friends - it should be safe.  But we could not simply bury it and leave it.  It was not yet clean and still too powerful.  So, we made nine Great Gates and nine Great Gate Keys, to guard all the paths that could reach it.  We pledged our family to the cause of safeguarding it and tending it, and we named ourselves after those gates, those doors, so we would not forget.”

Gwensyvyr paused significantly.  

“We’ve done that, haven’t we?” asked Matthew.  “Even before Uncle Leon died.”

“It was a good while before that, too, to be fair,” said Gwensyvyr.  “In truth, I think it started as early as my great-grandchildren’s time.  A hundred years of fighting with the sons and grandsons of Pariah…”  She trailed off and shook her head.  “Alys wanted peace, and thought that both sides were worn down enough that she could get it.  She married her daughter, her only child, to one of Pariah’s scions.  But Kythrin chose never to have access to the sacred pool, or take up her duties to it, and so never to become queen herself.  The throne and its duties went to her cousin, and her husband killed her and took their children to Britain, where he made a pest of himself for the rest of his natural life, despite efforts to end it prematurely.  

“One of the children came back.  We were overjoyed, but…”  Gwensyvyr’s face soured.  “Once welcomed, they used the pool to try and call up Pariah once more.

“That is when the pool and the journey andyr Kyr Argyn became so entwined with the succession.  Before that, we had helpers, who came freely.  They were not the priestesses of old, but they had some knowledge, and it made the burden easier for the family.  After… we did not trust so easily.  

“Later, many years on, Queen Arynryd saw the danger in this and founded the School of Heroes in an attempt to gather those that could be trusted.  That was the original point of it - not to be a pre-approved pool of heroic suitors to pick from to prevent inbreeding in the royal line.”  She rolled her eyes as a faint susurrus of ohs rose up around the table.  “Although, I will grant that it has been useful for that, on occasion.”

Gwensyvyr shook her head.  “After that incident, though, many of us were worried that Pariah might return, so I and some others went through the pool, and directly into a war.  I am not sure how long it lasted.  Time was strange, there, in the otherworld.  But it was Pariah and his fanatics against all other spirits, and we felt that, as his old enemies, we must join in.

“When Pariah was sealed, we returned, but we found that more than a generation had passed, and Pariah’s brood had made war on us again, and that they had even roused the Normans to do the same.  A whole…”  She paused, looking away.  “While we were gone, a whole branch of the family had been wiped out.  Only the youngest, one too young to go to war, survived.  And though King Ydmynd completed the trials, and as an adult, with a child just born, he decreed restrictions, and that no one should go into Andyr or to the pools except for the Trials.”

Gwensyvyr stared at the table.  “I did not intervene.  I thought it would be enough, as people had children, and those children wanted to take up the family task.  I thought the pool healed enough, and the gates strong enough.  It was not Ydmynd’s fault, mind.  He was young, and he’d had a harrowing time of the trials, with so many of us gone to fight Pariah in the beyond, and all his family dead.”

She paused again, giving Danny time to catch up and think about what that must have felt like, for Edmund.  To think about how every day they seemed to be getting closer to that point themselves.

“There were some benefits to the developments as well.  The decrees were not because of fear, only,” said Gwensyvyr, softly.  “Athlyng Elysyvyt was kidnapped young and educated by the Danes, who wanted to put her on the throne, but without the Trials, she had no claim to it.  We avoided long periods of regency, and the crises that come with child monarchs.  A few times, Pariah’s living fanatics were caught trying to get into Andyr.

“Then, too, not everyone followed King Ydmynd’s decrees, especially after he, in turn, died.  There were strong syvyrys in those years, too.  Even so… even so, we thought it might be best to let the living find their own way, in most cases.  There is a reason I did not stay queen after my death, though I was, clearly, still there and still visible, as magic had suffused Avlynys through the sacred pool far more in those days than it does now.  

“There were things to do, regardless.  Even in death, even with the pool behind the Great Gates, we still had to protect the island and the pool from enemies.  And…”  She sighed.  “When there were no more enemies, and we found ourselves growing weary, many of us chose to rest.  Even I cannot be everywhere at once.  I often chose to shadow my family, rather than any greater purpose and as time passed, and the pool wasn’t tended to, its power faded.  I thought that a good thing, that it was finally returning to how it used to be before my first death, but lately we find we cannot even go there, and…  Now we are here.  A thousand years of attrition and inattention later, we are here.”

“And… that’s it?” asked Danny.

Gwensyvyr spread her hands out.  “I am not going to attempt to recount the entire millennia, much less the portions of it that are in living memory.  Although maybe I should.  I always thought the nationalist movement had a little too much in common with some of the things Pariah’s fanatics got up to.”  She tapped her lips.  “And the Germans sent us a remarkable number of curses during the second of the Great Wars, despite how terrible they were at it, and despite hardly anyone being able to do that at all in the twentieth century.”

“We expelled the nationalist movement.  Their whole organization was outlawed, after the Brygytyn attacks.”

“Matthew, you know as well as I that you never entirely get rid of people like that.”

Iris raised a hand.  “So, our consensus here is that our premier pharmaceutical institution is run by deranged cultists who specifically hate our family for killing their, what, their god?  And they might be Nazis on top of that?”

“Not Nazis,” said George.  “Those were specifically German nationalists.”

“There are American Nazis, too,” pointed out Iris.

“I wouldn’t call it a consensus,” said Gwensyvyr.  “But they must, at least, be involved, and I find the timing suspicious, if he was out of that sarcophagus for any length of time.  I would say that the spirit who attacked just now was one of them, likely being punished for failing to kill you earlier, Matthew.”

“So, what do we do?” asked Danny.  He was, personally, all for going out and beating up whoever was behind all this, but he didn’t know who was behind all this.

“The Trials,” said Matthew.  “If we did them, if we got rid of whatever was blocking you, could you…  How many of our ancestors are here, awake?  Could you help?”

Gwensyvyr smiled, teeth sharp, ghostly fangs.  “We would like nothing better.”

[unironicallytes]

Dear Brother: Overall Supplemental Lore

Domitius' Vow

[Below is an in-universe Familial Padomaist fable, used to explain the role of vampires within the Dark Brotherhood.]

It is said that in the Brotherhood’s early days, there lived the pious assassin Domitius, whose heart was ever-blackened and whose hands were always bloodied. Domitius toiled away to ferry souls to the Void throughout his life, and his own time finally arrived when he failed to best a target in combat. Domitius fought valiantly, but accepted his demise with humility and acceptance. “Alas, though I cannot deliver this soul to my Father, it is fated that mine go in their stead - it is a blessing to have lived a life in devotion and received my end,” he thought, as his target prepared the final blow. But amidst the struggle, their flowing blood mixed, and Domitius became infected with something unnatural as he passed into Void’s embrace. When he arrived at the threshold of his final home, Domitius could sense something was wrong. For he remained suspended just above the Nothing Behind The World, hung from his chest by a painful and stubborn hook whose other end remained Anchored in existence. He found his soul had become like oil, whereas the Void was like water. He could not break apart into the swirling abyss no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much the Void lapped at his edges to erode him. In agony, he cried out unto Sithis: “Oh, Dread Father! I have come home to thee, but something holds me in place, has cursed me with everlasting form! I pray thee, wouldst thou cut me from it, so I may rest with my Family below?” Sithis, an ever-watchful parent, heard his child’s cry and drew near. He pulled a shape from the eternal nothing with which to greet Domitius: he stretched skin and sinew across many rattling bones, grew endlessly deep eyes, and split into a gaping snake maw. His voice was the sound of rushing wind through deep caverns, of floodwaters overwhelming a dam. “My child, why dost thou cry out so?” Sithis asked. But before Domitius could answer, Sithis could see what the problem was. Something Anchored his child, and would not let the Nothing consume the soul properly. He moved yet closer to examine, but then recoiled.  “Vile coagulant of Bal! Not yet dead, but no longer alive - trapped between! A Schemer plays such foul tricks on my children!” Sithis lamented. He could not yet cut Domitius free, for the tether repelled his Void. He reassured his poor child as best as he could. “Though thou art afflicted with stagnation, thou remain my son, and I carry love for thee. Thou must go forth again, but as Undead. When thy befouled Anchor rusts and weakens once more, I shall sunder thy soul properly. But rest assured, child; no Daedra can keep thee from my grasp for long. Thou shalt find no restless eternity in Coldharbour so long as thou honors my name.” Domitius became invigorated in spite of such sad news. “Then I go with thy blessing, Dread Father. I will take this affliction and turn it to a Dark Gift instead, with which I shall spill blood for thee. I will only share this Dark Gift with those who are worthy. I vow to return one day.” Sithis was proud. He lifted Domitius with many hands and placed him back into the world. And Domitius did as he said he would do: with the Dark Gift, he worshiped and taught for centuries longer; and he only bestowed the same Gift to Siblings who understood the responsible use of such a tool. To possess the Dark Gift was not a gift to oneself, but a gift to Family still living. It was a selfless postponement of one's final rest to instead remain committed in unholy service.  The time came for Domitius to return home a second time. He bade his Listener to plunge Blade of Woe into his chest. When Domitius fell into the Void again, Sithis did as he said he would do: he broke apart the Anchor's chain, then lovingly dismantled his child’s soul, allowing it to dissolve freely into Nothing with him. And so, as it is said - vampires and other such anomalies have been bestowed a serious responsibility. One must use their Dark Gift wisely and in service to Sithis. Do not let temptation for permanence cause you to falter, for you must never forget where your true home lay.

[thinkingoflawrence]

The Missing Piece of Us

—-

——

Summary:

Gabriel and Y/N Reyes were happily married, until an event changed their lives.

Words: 1.488

—

He was dead, he was really

dead. You were in front of his grave, which said, "Here lies Gabriel Reyes commander Blackwatch" with the Blackwatch logo above it.

It was a plate on the ground, next to Jack's grave. You still couldn't accept the fact that your husband was gone.

Tears start to fill your eyes again as everything hits you again. He really was gone—your husband, the father of your son, your love of your life—gone. The same thought swam constantly through your mind.

Your son hugs your leg, trying to comfort you, as a breeze of wind just flows by the two of you.

Memories start to flow through your mind of all the happy moments you shared with Gabe. Your first date was at some coffee shop, and even though he hated it, he did it for you.

Or the moment he asked you to be his wife after he came back from an Overwatch mission at your shared home. All these moments suddenly flood your brain, "I miss you, Gabriel... I miss you so much," you said before you broke down in front of his grave, as suddenly a hand touched your shoulder. You expected it to be the hand of your son, but it was Angela, a colleague of Gabriel's. She looked down at you comfortingly as she rubbed your bag and took you into her arms with your son.

"It will be okay, Y/N. Let it out," Angela said softly as she kept rubbing your back. "Shhh, it's okay." She herself had some tears in her eyes, she wished that she could've done something for Gabriel.

After you got calmer, Angela handed flowers to you and your son to place on Gabe's grave.

The two of you place the flowers on the gravestone on the floor and take a last look in silence. Before you take a photo of you and Gabriel from the day you gave birth to your son out of the pocket of your jacket and place it next to the flowers,

As you walked away from Gabriel's grave with Angela and your son, you couldn't help but reflect on the life you shared with him. The memories flooded your mind, both the happy ones and the challenging ones. You remembered the adventures you had, the battles he fought, and the love you shared. It was clear that Gabriel would always hold a special place in your heart, and his memory would continue to bloom and influence your life. Over the weeks and months that followed, you focused on being there for your son, just as Gabriel would have wanted. You became a pillar of strength for him, providing the love and support he needed to navigate through life without his father. It wasn't easy, but you drew strength from the memories you shared with Gabriel.

You made a commitment to keep Gabriel's memory alive for your son.

You told him about the missions and other stories from his father, showed him pictures, and taught him the values and principles that Gabriel held dear.

As time went on, you found moments of happiness and healing.

You found a new love—someone who brought that happiness back into your life. Of course, no one could replace Gabriel, but you found the strength to move on. You will always keep Gabriel in your honor and in your heart. Your son grew, and you could see glimpses of Gabriel in him, both in his appearance and his personality.

---

One rainy day, you walked back home from the cinema with your new husband and your son. The three of you had just enjoyed a family outing to watch a movie that your son had been eagerly anticipating. The rain had started to fall during the film, and as you stepped outside, the streets glistened with the reflections of streetlights on the wet pavement.

Luckily, you packed an umbrella right before you left for the cinema. You pulled the umbrella out of your purse and opened it.

Your husband offered to hold it for you, and you wouldn't say no to that, so you gave him the umbrella, and he placed his other arm around you, and you held your son close to you so you three could all fit underneath the umbrella.

The three of you started walking home, but you got the weird feeling of being watched or followed. You look around to see if you can catch anyone looking at you or following you, but you see nothing...

You kept walking until you finally arrived at the door to your apartment, but you still felt watched. You'd decided to ignore the feeling and thought you were just imagining it.

Your husband unlocked the door, and your son ran in, and your husband followed. You were about to follow too, but you decided to look behind you and saw a dark figure disappear in a dark alley on the other side of the street. Maybe you were being followed... maybe you were right...

You decided to just ignore it, close the door behind you, and get changed. Your son and husband were already out of their jackets and outside shoes on their way into the kitchen.

You took your jacket and shoes off and went to follow the two of them.

Time has passed since your son went to sleep, or you think he is sleeping he also could be playing on his computer, but you and your husband are on the couch watching some Bake Off that was playing on the television.

You were in the arms of your husband, relaxing, and as you looked over, you saw him fall asleep. You couldn't help but smile at his sleeping figure. You needed to get something, so you carefully stood up and went into the kitchen. You looked out the window and saw that it had stopped raining. Suddenly you heard a knock on your door, which startled you a little before you slowly walked to open the door, wondering who knocked on your door at this hour.

As you opened the door, you were greeted by... nothing. No one stood there, and you thought someone pulled a prank on you, so you looked outside left and right to check if there was someone, but... there was no one.

Before you could go back inside, you realized that two were lying on the door mat.

Curiously, you picked the items up, and you looked at them closely and saw that it's ... the photo you left at the grave of Gabriel and a note that reads:

"My flower, I want you to know that I will always love you. I'm very proud of you.

- Yours forever

Gabe"

The note was like a ray of hope in the darkness, and you couldn't help but be overwhelmed with a mix of emotions. The reappearance of the photo you had left at Gabriel's grave, along with the heartfelt message, left you both confused and elated.

You take the two items inside and close the door again. You go to your bedroom and open a drawer door to pull out a box, a box full of things from Gabriel.

As you carefully placed the items in the box with all the memories of Gabriel, you couldn't shake the feeling that there might be some truth to the note. The use of his endearing nickname for you, "My flower," and the loving message seemed too personal to be a cruel joke. It stirred up memories of the love you had shared and the unique bond you had with Gabriel.

After all that, you sat down on the bed and just stared at the wall, all the memories coming up again. You let the tears flow and covered your face with your hands as you kept on crying.

You didn't expect anyone to hear you, but you hear the door opening, and as you look, you see your son. "Mom, are you okay?.." he said softly as he slowly approached you.

You thought you finally got over his death, but all this made everything come up again, and the thought that he was still alive comes up in your mind again.

"I just... thought about your father again. It just came up... I'm alright.." you said with a shaky voice, trying to put on a fake smile for her son, but this couldn't fool him. "Mom, I can see you're not okay." He approached you and gave you a hug.

As your son wrapped his arms around you in a comforting hug, the tears kept flowing. You were no longer sure what to think, but the combination of grief, confusion, and hope was overwhelming.

Your son's embrace felt like a lifeline, a heartwarming reminder of the strong and loving family you had created with Gabriel, and that strength still prevailed. And always remember, you are loved.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

A little Comic History and Important Question

Can you take the event out of the character and still call them the same character? 

There are some characters that are defined by their origins. 

Some are defined by the time in which they were created. 

Others still were defined by a single moment in their history in which a writer gave them a story that has become their very core. 

In the world of DC, Batman is defined by his origins. It is a story that DC has played with time and time again in various "What if" timelines and multi-world events. 

Is it possible to have Batman without the death of his parents? DC argues that this is impossible. 

Would Superman still be the same if he hadn't been raised by humble farmers in America with a strong sense of justice? (See Superman Red Son). 

Can you take WWII out of Captain America and still have him be the same American Poster boy? 

Is it possible to remove Vietnam from Frank Castle and still come up with The Punisher? What about the death of his family? 

Can you take the Jewish out of Magneto and still have him be the same Mutant Revolutionist? 

Taking a step back, we turn to the very origins of comics as we know them: 

Superman. 

Created in 1938 by the children of immigrants who fled countries that wanted them dead. Children that grew up with stories of ‘the old country’ and a distinct feeling of being powerless. 

Just a year later, we have Batman emerging in 1939. 

Even in America, Anti-semitism made it impossible to seek out jobs of ‘honor’. 

Comics had been created far before Superman first took his first step. Small funnies that appeared in little blurbs and papers that people scoffed at and considered unworthy of spending time or money on. Most of which were written and drawn by Jewish people who had no other career options than to seek out jobs in publishing and entertainment industries. 

So what was so special about the late 1930s? 

Take another step back. WWI ended in 1918. It did not bring the great peace and prosperity that everyone thought it would. There was a brief flicker of economic boom in the winning countries, but by 1929 the Great Depression had hit hard. 

Famin, inflation, and antisemitism was on the rise. Mass immigration to America in hopes of survival. Stories of those left behind were sent to the families settling in the New country. 

Letters filled with violence, poverty, and death were making their way to the Jewish Immigrants. 

You see, the Nazi party started in 1920. Many saw it as the savior of Germany and even people in America saw the Nazi party as something to stand behind with visions of greatness and superiority. 

Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster were the children of immigrants who read the letters of family left behind in Europe. Envisioning someone that would stand up for the little guy and fight fascism and Nazi beliefs, they created Superman. 

Superman didn’t start with great super powered monsters and villains. He started fighting neighborhood bullies. He broke up gangsters and terrible Slumlords. He took down corrupt politicians and eventual villains like Lex Luthor.

Bob Kane and Bill Finger were not far behind in the creation of Batman. A man who fought for justice and revenge. A man seeking to make sense of the loss of his family. While Batman wasn’t as dark and grim in the original days as he is now, he was still seen as a step further than Superman. A caped crusader of justice that used more violence than Superman tended to. 

Siegel and Shuster started a comic book publishing company that let Jewish writers have jobs as well as tell their stories in their own way. 

World War II broke out officially in 1939 and more and more comics started to focus on stories that spoke out against what was happening in Europe. 

William Eisner created "The Spirit" in 1940. If you aren’t familiar with either of those names boy howdy…. William Eisner, as in “The Eisner Awards”  are awarded for creative achievement in American Comic books. The most prestigious and significant awards in the industry. 

The Spirit was created out of Eisner’s heavily Jewish upbringing and often told stories that came out of his difficult upbringing in the slum-like conditions and severe antisemitism of New York at the time. 

By this time, WWII was in full swing, and despite what we are all taught to think, everyone knew what the Nazi were doing to the Jewish people at this point (just not to what extent). Stories of camps and death had leaked out and Jewish Immigrants lived in terror as they feared for the lives of their families left behind. 

America entered the war in December of 1941… Officially. I say officially because, as all my fellow history buffs know, we were secretly involved in it far before then. 

Propaganda had snuck into the comic book industry before America entered the war. 

In 1941 we saw the creation of Captain America by Joe Simon and Jack Kirby. Two names that came like a comet to the comic industry. We also saw the creation of Wonder Woman in 1941 (And you should look up that story because WHAT A RIDE THAT IS, but I’m not going to get into that today). 

Captain America was created as a direct response to what was happening in the world, the Nazi uprising, and the failure of America to step up and away from Antisemitism. 

There are a lot of stories about how Captain America is based out of Jewish culture and old stories. That Captain America is the Golem. There certainly are a lot of reasons for this. 

The Jewish Golem was created as a creature made to protect the Jewish people from those that wanted to kill them. The Hebrew word “Emet”, which means “Truth” is written on his forehead. Looking at Captain America, with a giant “A” on his forehead, it is very easy to argue that the A is the Hebrew Aleph letter and hearing him say he fights for Truth, Justice, and The American Way (The American Way part was added after we joined the war for propaganda purposes) is a fantastic argument for why he is the Golem. 

There is also a fantastic write up someone did on how Captain America acts as a Golem when he was first written and even powers down back when his mission is completed. If you are interested, I’ll direct you to that book if you give me a hot minute to find it in my stash. 

There is also an argument I’ve heard on how the shield is NOT exactly the American symbol that it has become in modern times. But that of The Magen David (AKA: The Star of David and symbol of Judaism and Jewish Identity) really means "Shield of David". A symbol of G-d’s protection. 

So we’re in the war, the golden age of comics, the rise of big names and even bigger heroes. 

What happens when the war ends? 

Well, the kids grow up. The comic industry is booming, comic books are becoming a thing, the Sunday papers now have the funny papers, and people that studied under the big shots are now old enough to start creating their own thing. 

In 1939 Marvel Comics was originally a run of comics with superhero features published under Timely Comics, founded by Martin Goodman. 

The Human Torch was the first on the cover. The original Human Torch. Not Johnny Storm. 

Oh… and Namor The Sub-Mariner, an anti-hero and FIRST Mutant. Created by Bill Everett who also helped co-create Daredevil with Stan Lee later on. 

What’s that in the background? Oh… Just a Nazi flag so he can beat up all the Nazi. 

Namor returns in 1962 in Fantastic Four #4. 

With the war over, Comics and war time heroes and propaganda was falling out of fashion. 

Horror, Westerns, Romance titles, and various other Men's Adventure tales were now in fashion. 

Marvel Comics was dropped as a title in the 1950s. 

That didn't stop a small group of Jews from deciding to try their own at creating a comic company. 

In 1961 Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Steve Ditko started up Marvel Comics and published "Journey into Mystery", which was a more science fiction approach to comics. (Steve Ditko would go on to work with Stan Lee to create Spider-Man and Doctor Strange. ) 

Over in DC land, they had The Flash, Green Lantern, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow, and the forming team of the Justice League of America to settle out their roster. 

Stan Lee famously decided that he needed to change how Superheroes were presented. He wanted the common man to see himself in these heroes. 

He wasn't writing for the child audiences that were commonly seen as the target. He wanted to write to the adult reader that was looking to see themselves as the hero. 

It started in 1961 with the First Family: The Fantastic Four. 

Striking gold with characters that argued, held grudges, didn't keep secret identities, and often acted petty and selfish, Stan Lee kept his focus on the adult reader. 

The Amazing Spider-Man was published in 1963. 

So what was happening in America in the 60s that made people seek out flawed characters and deep characterization? 

Well, take a step back into the 50s. What’s going on? WWII ended in 1945, after all! How about a very little talked about war known as the Korean War 1950-1953. America’s first failure that was hushed up and pushed aside. 

Not to mention that the Vietnam War started in 1955 and lasted till 1975. 

1947 was the start of the longest lasting standoff known as "The Cold War” that didn’t end until 1989. 

The world had changed and the culture had changed drastically. 

In the world of [rival DC Comics'] Superman comic books, communism did not exist. Superman rarely crossed national borders or involved himself in political disputes. From 1962 to 1965, there were more communists [in Marvel Comics] than on the subscription list of Pravda. Communist agents attack Ant-Man in his laboratory, red henchmen jump the Fantastic Four on the moon, and Viet Cong guerrillas take potshots at Iron Man. - Comic historian Mike Benton. 

So how do the comics keep up with world events? How do they stay relevant? 

Go back and look at all those dates. Notice anything? I’m going to throw a lot of dates at you here: 

Iron Man: 1962 (Original title under Tales of Suspense then given his own title in 1968) 

Doctor Strange: 1963

Spider-Man: 1963

DareDevil: 1964

Lots of young men going off to war and looking for escape. Let’s focus on one I mentioned at the start of all this.

The Punisher was created in 1974. Right at the end of Vietnam when the soldiers were coming home, America had lost, and no one wanted to see the soldiers as heroes. 

The Punisher was created in a Spider-Man comic originally as a sort of anti-hero Assassin and occasional foe to Spider-Man. 

In 1986 he was given a mini series then just a year later "War Journal" was released as the first Punisher series. Followed by War Zone and Punisher Armory. 

You see, there was a Marvel comic run series called "The 'NAM" that came out in 1986 that told the perspective of soldiers involved in the war. It was popular for some time and the Punisher even appeared in it a few times. 

Over the years, Marvel has not known what to do with the Punisher. They lost interest in him in 1995 and canceled the series. 

Here’s the thing, America has been at war almost constantly since the Korean war. Sure, they aren’t big names like Korea, Vietnam, and so on… But Heck, Cuban Missile Crisis, Bosnia, Serbia, Gulf War… the names just go on and on. 

The comics lost the narrative on how to handle soldiers coming back with no way to deal with their trauma. They lost sight of what made the Punisher so interesting and so broken. 

They changed his story and relaunched right with the Punisher being the leader of an organized crime family. The number of times they ended and relaunched the Punisher in the late 90s is a little silly when you look at it. 

In 2000, Garth Ennis got hold of him and relaunched The Punisher under "Marvel Knights". By 2004, Ennis was given Marvel's first Mature print "MAX" where he kept the story of the Punisher going. 

His look was modified to keep up with modern standards. The superhero aspect was removed from MAX and we got just a gritty, realistic look at an anti-hero. 

But here's the issue: How do you keep the Punisher current? Vietnam ain't getting any younger. 

They have him joining other wars too. He's serving time in the CIA, he's a spy in the KGB, he's in the Middle East, the Balkans, the IRA.... 

In non-MAX titles, they realized that Frank Castle was no spring chicken. They killed him off and had him born again as a younger version. That way they could keep his Vietnam background but still be young. 

But this hasn't stopped the talk about how to keep his trauma and his war relevant to the readers of today. Do they take away his war? 

In one of the movies, he was made a veteran of the Gulf War. 

They've even taken it a step further in more current runs where they take Frank Castle out of the role fully and give it to someone else who takes up the mantle of "Punisher". But is it still the same character? 

Is someone not from the Vietnam war era still capable of being THE Punisher? 

I'm going to take a quote right from Wiki for this one: 

"The Punisher's backstory initially introduced him as a veteran of the Vietnam War. In this capacity, he appeared in the comic book 'The 'Nam', about the conflict. However, this dated the character as the years passed and the war was increasingly in the past. Greg Rucka retconned it to the War on Terror, instead, in 2011." 

"Steve [Wacker, editor on the project] and I went round and round on this, but ultimately, he wanted to make Frank younger because if he fought in Vietnam, he's in his 70s, and I get more mileage out of him being in his early 40s. I don't think that takes anything away from his origin. In the Marvel Universe, the conflict matters only because he was asked to go and serve his country, and he did. When he returned, the society he was essentially defending betrayed him and murdered his wife and children in front of him. The conflict matters less than the fact that he gave his service, and this was the reward. In that broad brush vague Marvel Universe sense there's always 'the war' whatever it was. If that put him in the Middle East rather than South East Asia, I think that matters less for the purposes of the Marvel Universe."

Why all this about the Punisher? Because it matters and here’s why: 

Magneto was created in 1963 by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. 

--- In a 2008 interview, Stan Lee said he "did not think of Magneto as a bad guy. He just wanted to strike back at the people who were so bigoted and racist...he was trying to defend the mutants, and because society was not treating them fairly he was going to teach society a lesson. He was a danger of course...but I never thought of him as a villain." ---

We didn't find out Magneto's background until 1981, in which he was portrayed as a Holocaust survivor.

Much later in 2008, "Magneto Testament" we got his full history. 

It is in this comic that Magneto is finally fully defined. A comic in which real life stories from Holocaust survivors are used to create this man that was never supposed to be a hero or a villain. 

Now, I haven't always appreciated the story lines in the X-men comics (things get so hard to follow sometimes. The shenanigans and who is dating who is just beyond me), but I have always appreciated the overall narrative and have always felt the conversation started by the first X-men comic and carried on in Magneto Testament was an important one that has ALWAYS been relevant. 

But the number of times they have tried to redefine Magneto's story is baffling. 

And the question has risen again: How do they keep Magneto relevant? 

As I write this, WWII ended about 79 years ago. Which would solidly put Magneto in his late 80s. Maybe early 90s. 

If they have an issue with the Punisher being in his 70s, how do they feel about a 90 year old man fighting Wolverine? 

And I’ve heard further talk of people contesting his Holocaust background. How do they update that? If you can take the Vietnam out of The Punisher, how do you take the Holocaust out of Magneto? 

Is their solution just to not have him be Jewish at all? Do they find someone else to be Magneto? Do they just reboot him fully? 

In an industry created by Jewish voices speaking out against antisemitism and hatred, why is there such a push to take the Jew out of comics?

It is easy enough to google "List of Jewish Comic book characters".

Which is exactly what I did.

Considering how much wikipedia is being editited right now and erasing things, I was honestly curious to see what I would get.

You get your classics:

(Marc what are you doing?)

(Billy, I don't think that's Kosher? Is that Kosher? Can you light two candles at once? Can you use lightning? What if the lightning is generated by a person? Where's this argument in the Talmud? I bet someone somewhere argued about it.)

The Thing (Ben Grimm), who is the first one everyone thinks of.

Doc Samson, who Marvel often forgets exists despite the fact that he is amazing and I Love him.

Iceman, Legion (really? How many?), Magneto, Moon Knight (This counts as at least 3….maybe 4….5 on a bad day?), Sasquatch (Oooohh yeahhhh), Kitty Pryde (the most out spoken one next to Ben Grimm), Songbird (Huh), and Wiccan (I love him and it warms my heart to see him being shown properly). There are a few other random figures in the background now and then, but those are the big ones in Marvel.

DC?

(This is just sad)

Kate Kane (Neat!), Hal Jordan (OG!), Harley Quinn (Of course), Phantom Stranger, Ragman (A moon knight DC response), and some random ones.

Thing is… This list used to be longer. I know it used to be longer. And I feel like it has left off quite a few big names from other comic publishers too….

This Wikki article was edited recently and I fear not for good.

So how many characters do we find debating are Jewish? I know Moon Knight is often being debated for various stupid reasons. But the character is Jewish. And I appreciate the writer that makes a point to state this (McKay for the win!)

But at what point does Marvel start to question how much longer they can hang onto the most blatantly and important Jewish character? When does Marvel start to push Magneto out? When is he too old? When is his story too obscure? When does he stop being relevant?

I fear for the next 10 years. 20 years. 50 years.

Don't forget where comics came from. Don't forget where characters come from. Don't try to take away what makes the character the character and continue to call it that.

I don't know how to end this. I don't have any answers. Sometimes characters need updates. Sometimes you see the obvious racism and make it go away. But do you erase it fully or do you acknowledge it was there, it was a mistake, and do your best to fix it? Can you do that with the past too? "Yeah, Frank was in Nam. Sure, that would make him in his 70s, but we aren't here to talk about how old he is. We're here to read about how broken of a man he is and how he will now hunt down justice."

[psychicbluebirdmiracle]

How Personalities Can Be Learned

(An essay I wrote for general psychology almost two years ago)

Personality is how we refer to people’s behavior, decisions or how they might feel about certain things; it is a group of someone's personality traits. A personality might cover a lot of things about a certain individual, like how sociable they are, how they may be more prone to being angry than others, or how they will like certain things that others might dislike. The word “personality” is thought to have been derived from the Greek “personas,” which were masks worn in theaters to show the characters’ personalities and emotions.

Personality learning theory is the thought that our personalities are derived from events and people around us and are more focused on the external behaviors than the subconscious. There are two different perspectives to take when looking at this theory: the behavioral perspective and the social-cognitive perspective. The behavioral perspective believes that all personality traits are learned from the environment around a person and that no one is born with a personality, while the social-cognitive perspective emphasizes thinking, reasoning, learning, and cognition. Observational learning is defined as learning traits from observing others (Spielman et al., 2020). According to an article on social cognitive theory at Boston University School of Public Health, Reciprocal Determinism is described as the central concept of social cognitive theory and “refers to the dynamic and reciprocal interaction of person (individual with a set of learned experiences), environment (external social context), and behavior (responses to stimuli to achieve goals)” (LaMorte, 2022). Some notable Psychologists associated with this theory are B. F. Skinner, who took a behavioral perspective on this theory; Albert Bandura, who took the social-cognitive perspective; and Julian Rotter, who proposed the concept of locus of control.

A brilliant example of a learned personality comes from Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko’s show Avatar: The Last Airbender in the character of Prince Zuko. Zuko is an aggressive and ambitious teen who is desperate to win his father’s approval but struggles with what is right and what he is expected to do. He grew up as the prince of the fire nation, the most powerful nation in the world. He had an abusive father and a mysterious mother who was willing to risk her own life to save her son. His corrupt grandfather was Fire Lord until being killed by Zuko’s mother to protect Zuko after the grandfather threatened to kill him. His younger sister struggled with mental illness. His uncle became a father figure to him. When Zuko was thirteen years old, as punishment for talking out of turn during a war meeting, his father challenged him to a dangerous competition known as Agni Kai. When Zuko refused, his father severely burned his face, leaving a permanent scar, and banished him from the kingdom until he could capture the avatar. This was considered an impossible task, since the avatar had been presumed dead for a hundred years.

Over the course of the show, you see how his personality is formed and changed by the circumstances and people he finds himself around. Through flashbacks, you see that he learned to be aggressive from his abusive father, who was the corrupt Fire Lord of the most powerful kingdom in the world. His father’s abuses included permanently scarring his face and banning him from the kingdom for talking out of turn. This pushed Zuko to be more aggressive to earn his father's approval, to be more like his father who he admired, and to cope with the struggles put on him by his father. Through watching his father be aggressive, Zuko learned to mimic his father and showed observational learning. He learned to be ambitious from his father as well. All Zuko wanted to do was bring honor to his father and make him proud, but his father’s constant disapproval pushed him to practice his firebending constantly until he became one of the greatest benders alive. Zuko then spent almost three years chasing the avatar, which mimics his father’s ambition. Watching his father’s consuming ambition while stealing the throne from Zuko’s uncle definitely pushed him along to become more cutthroat, which again shows observational learning.

Zuko also showed reciprocal determinism as he learned not to focus so much on earning his father’s approval. Instead, he came to focus more on doing what’s right after having everything not turn out the way he wanted. Another notable example of Reciprocal Determinism was when his father banished him. He became angry and bitter and began to take his frustrations and feelings out on his subordinates.

In summary there are many ways that a personality can be learned, and Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender demonstrates many of those. His interactions with his environment and those around him help shape who he becomes by the finale.

References

Boston University School of Public Health. (2022, November 3). The Social Cognitive Theory. MPH Online Learning Modules. https://sphweb.bumc.bu.edu/otlt/mph-modules/sb/behavioralchangetheories/behavioralchangetheories5.html).

DiMartino, M. D., Konietzko, B., & Ehasz, A. (Executive Producers). (2005-2008). Avatar: The Last Airbender. [TV series]. Nickelodeon Animation Studios.

Spielman, R. M., Jenkins, W. J., & Lovette, M. D. (2020). Psychology 2e. OpenStax.

[midwestbramble]

Rose Folklore

Rosa spp.

Ruled by ♀

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Contents:

Overview

Folklore

Uses in Witchcraft

Safety Notes

Conclusion

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Overview

The Rosa genus incorporates over 100 different species and 18,000 cultivars, ranging from the simple dog rose to the impressive Juliet. Most folklore is talking about the dog rose native to Europe, North-Western Africa, and Western Asia. The meadow rose (Rosa blanda), Arkansas rose (Rosa arkansana), and Rosa carolina are native to Iowa, my home state.

Most wild roses are going to look and grow similarly to the dog rose. These flowering bushes are found growing along woodland edges near lakes and rivers. Rosebuds will generally begin to form in the summer. Most wild cultivars will only have five petals and thorny stems with golden stamens in the middle. The fruit, known as a rosehip, form in late autumn.

The petals and leaves are best gathered on a dry, sunny day just after blooming to get the best volatile oils and aromatics. The hip is best gathered after they have been exposed to a light frost. It will turn from an orange color to red. Considered a noxious weed, you will not hurt it.

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Folklore

*Some folklore belongs to marginalized groups. These are here for the inclusion of these groups so that they feel seen in the community. Please remain respectful of cultural boundaries.*

-Birth of Aphrodite-

In the eighth book of the Illiad, Homer tells us of how Aphrodite was born of sea foam. When she steps onto land a plant grows where her foot touched. According to Anacreon this was the first white rose and they also grew where the sea foam dripped off of her.

-Adonis and Aphrodite-

The tenth book of Metamorphoses, Ovid recounts the tale of Adonis’ death. In the tale, any time Adonis is not spending in the underworld with his adoptive mother, Persephone, he is spending with Aphrodite and the two are thought to be madly in love. One day, Adonis is pierced by the tusk of a boar he is hunting. Aphrodite, hearing his moans, rushes to his side to try to help. On her way, she pricks her toe on a thorn and her blood colored the white rose red. Unfortunately, she doesn’t make it to Adonis in time.

-The Crucifixion of Jesus Christ-

The Virgin Mary is said to have pulled her son down from the cross with roses growing where her tears fell. It’s also connected to her as a symbol of purity. The Rosary is named in her honor and in Latin means “garland of roses.”

The connection to the passion of the Christ comes from the five wounds he received when crucified and the five petals of the rose. One on each hand, one on each foot, and one on the side. The crown of thorns he wore on the cross is thought to be rose thorns.

-Sleeping Beauty (Briar Rose)-

Within the Grimm Brothers collection of German fairytales is the familiar story of Sleeping Beauty. The Princess’ name is Briar Rose and whoever tries to enter the thorny hedge that has grown up around the castle will get stuck in die. It only parts for the last Prince because it is the day the castle wakes from its slumber. Many of these would-be-intruders had heard rumors of the sleeping beauty and wanted to wake her. I think the rose hedge was protecting her.

-The Snow Queen-

In Hans Christian Andersons story, little Gerda is trying to find her friend Kay. Gerda is welcomed in by an old woman who knows magic and identifies her as a good witch. She makes Gerda forget about Kay and the little rose bush they shared together, and her own rose bush goes underground. When the old woman wears a rose covered hat, Gerda remembers Kay and she tries to ask all the flowers in the garden if they know where he is. They don’t and Gerda cries, watering the spot where the roses were. They pop out of the ground and tell her that Kay is not dead. They know because they were just in the ground where all the dead things are. So Gerda continues her journey to find her friend Kay.

-The Cherokee Rose-

When the Cherokee people were made to move on the trail of tears they lost many people, including children. The cherokee rose appeared on the trail to give them comfort and remind them of their strength and courage to protect their remaining children. The golden center is a reminder of the white mans greed.

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Uses in Witchcraft

Much of the folklore revolves around lost love and death. This is a wonderful plant for helping a grieving heart, it's even classified as a euphoriant herb for purposes just like this. It holds the heart and helps you cry and grieve. For what is grief if not love preserving? (thank you WandaVision).

The thorns are also seen as protective, surrounding Briar Rose's castle as she slumbered, protecting her from would be suitors. Maybe a good plant to help you sort out your own. I've even seen rose thorns used to beat away harmful spirits.

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Safety Notes

The petals may reduce iron absorption in humans when taken at the same time as iron supplements, please wait an hour between the iron and the rose tea. Rose hips are safe, just strain out the hairs to avoid irritation.

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Conclusion

The wild rose is a perfect flower for this time of year, as many people begin focusing more on ancestors and general spirit work. I've used it as an offering to many different spirits of the dead and it has been received well (unlike some other plants). While many people think of it as a flower of love, there's more to love than romance.

References:

Iowa State University Extension Office

Midwest Medicinal Plants by Lisa M. Rose

The Legend of the Cherokee Rose

Southern Cunning by Aaron Oberon

Images

Title image made on Canva

The Birth of Venus, Sandro Botticelli (c. 1484-1486)

The Awakening of Adonis, John William Waterhouse (1899-1900)

Michelangelo's Pieta (commissioned 1637)

Prince Florimund finds the Sleeping Beauty - Project Gutenberg etext 19993

Kay and Gerda in their garden high up on the roof by Arthur Rackham

Trail of Tears painting, artist unknown

[thevelaryons]

Adam: The Snake & The Tree of Knowledge

Or rather, Addam and the Sea Snake. These two characters have certain connotations in the dynamic written between them. Addam is referred to as “the Sea Snake’s heir” and as expected of that title, his position as the heir to Driftmark defines much of his arc as a Velaryon, his relationship to characters around him, and his connection to his family.

The story goes as follows: The snake tempts Adam & Eve with the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge which invokes God’s wrath. This leads to them being cast out of Heaven as a result.

Well…. The Driftmark succession during the Dance of the Dragons actually follows a rather similar pattern for Addam.

Any man who could master a dragon would be granted lands and riches and dubbed a knight. His sons would be ennobled, his daughters wed to lords, and he himself would have the honor of fighting beside the Prince of Dragonstone against the pretender Aegon II Targaryen and his treasonous supporters.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

The promise of social advancement is allowed (as were many other foods in Heaven) but anything beyond that is the forbidden fruit in this allegory.

It was Laenor’s own father, Lord Corlys himself, who brought the boys to Prince Jacaerys for the Sowing.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

The Sea Snake brings forth the offer:

Not long after Addam of Hull had proved himself by flying Seasmoke, Lord Corlys went so far as to petition Queen Rhaenyra to remove the taint of bastardy from him and his brother. When Prince Jacaerys added his voice to the request, the queen complied. Addam of Hull, dragonseed and bastard, became Addam Velaryon, heir to Driftmark.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

The power dynamics between Corlys and Rhaenyra actually fluctuate throughout the Dance, even before the war began. They are mutually aligned and they are also using each other. Both those statements hold true for them.

In regards to Addam, Corlys is able to push for the Driftmark succession in his favour because he holds the power over Rhaenyra at that point in time (he can threaten to abandon her cause if his decision is not adhered to). Whereas previously, it was Rhaenyra who held power over him (Corlys on his sickbed is easy enough to force a decision out of regarding the succession).

Rhaenyra has been described by GRRM as someone who never forgets a slight. The same woman who previously had a man fed to her dragon to ensure the Driftmark succession for her son now has to see her other son passed over as heir for her dead husband’s bastard (it does not matter if Laenor was the biological father of the boys; what matters is the public perception that her husband has fathered bastards on another woman and these boys now stand to inherit the position that would otherwise have fallen to her younger son). Still, she can’t do anything about it because it is Corlys’ will that overrules her now (as we see in several instances throughout the war).

But, being as much of an opportunist as Corlys, Rhaenyra can just bide her time for that perfect moment.

Yet Queen Rhaenyra did not act at once, but rather sent for Mysaria, the harlot and dancing girl who was her mistress of whisperers in all but name. With her skin as pale as milk, Lady Misery appeared before the council in a hooded robe of black velvet lined with blood-red silk, and stood with head bowed humbly as Her Grace asked whether she thought Ser Addam and Nettles might be planning to betray them. Then the White Worm raised her eyes and said in a soft voice, “The girl has already betrayed you, my queen. Even now she shares your husband’s bed, and soon enough she will have his bastard in her belly.”

Then Queen Rhaenyra grew most wroth, Septon Eustace writes. In a voice as cold as ice, she commanded Ser Luthor Largent to take twenty gold cloaks to the Dragonpit and arrest Ser Addam Velaryon. “Question him sharply, and we will learn if he is true or false, beyond a doubt.”

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

Addam is the heir to house Velaryon, who is of course loyal to Rhaenyra. Everything Addam has is because of house Velaryon (which Rhaenyra has allowed) so there’s really no incentive for him to be a traitor. Yet he’s still accused of treason. An often overlooked detail though is that Mysaria never made any accusations against Addam. It was Rhaenyra herself who passed judgment on him.

The words spoken by Corlys right before Rhaenyra decided whether she would take action against Addam actually reference his position as house Velaryon’s heir:

Lord Corlys went much further, declaring that Ser Addam and his brother, Alyn, were “true Velaryons,” worthy heirs to Driftmark.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

The snake presented the temptation of the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge (Driftmark) and in doing so incurred the wrath of God. In the end, Adam fell from grace.

Of course, as is the case with parallels GRRM makes in his writings, it’s not always 1 = 1. There’s a twist. Similarly, in this comparison, the snake is a bit more sympathetic figure who seeks to help Adam. There is even a means for Adam to “redeem” himself before his God:

Ser Addam flew far and fast, descending on castles great and small whose lords were loyal to the queen, to piece together an army.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

For Addam, the Tree of Knowledge (which exists as a temptation), would be a connection to his father’s side of the family (claiming Seasmoke, having the Velaryon name, being made heir to his family’s seat).

Speaking of trees, there are in fact literal trees in ASOIAF that are said to impart knowledge:

“The chosen ones are not robust, and their quick years upon the earth are few, for every song must have its balance. But once inside the wood they linger long indeed. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. Greenseers.”

[…]

“The singers of the forest had no books. No ink, no parchment, no written language. Instead they had the trees, and the weirwoods above all. When they died, they went into the wood, into leaf and limb and root, and the trees remembered. All their songs and spells, their histories and prayers, everything they knew about this world. Maesters will tell you that the weirwoods are sacred to the old gods. The singers believe they are the old gods. When singers die they become part of that godhood.”

— A Dance with Dragons, Bran III

In the book, Addam does seem to have some connection to these trees of wisdom:

Singers say Ser Addam had flown from King’s Landing to the Gods Eye, where he landed on the sacred Isle of Faces and took counsel with the Green Men.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

In the south the last weirwoods had been cut down or burned out a thousand years ago, except on the Isle of Faces where the green men kept their silent watch.

— A Game of Thrones, Catelyn I

There is also the detail about Addam being buried at Raventree Hall (the Blackwoods are known to bury the dead beneath a dead weirwood tree):

At moonrise the riverlords abandoned the field to the carrion crows, fading back into the hills. One of them, the boy Ben Blackwood, carried with him the broken body of Ser Addam Velaryon, found dead beside his dragon. His bones would rest at Raventree Hall for eight years.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

Very fitting for a character whose name means ‘son of the earth’ to be laid to rest in the ground. Even with his later burial at Hull, his bones remain beneath the earth.

The words said to the other Adam by God, upon his fall:

“By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

Velaryon burial typically happens at sea, as appears to be the case for other seafaring families too:

“We came from the sea, and to the sea we must return.”

— A Feast for Crows, The Prophet

It’s notable that Addam, who is written to be ‘the most Velaryon character’ in life, is given a burial in death that is neither of house Velaryon practice nor Valyrian in nature (such as cremation). It’s just another way GRRM chose to depict him as distinct from the rest of his family.

[shiyorin]

This is WIP "Addiction", and like I said All -------> Reader :v

(I love all your silly ideas.)

Amongst the Primarchs, feelings of desire and affection were weaknesses best buried deep. Honor and duty formed the pillars of their lives, with little room for softer sentiments.

In the quiet corners of their minds, each Primarch nurtured a secret longing for the same person, about you, an Imperial Agent.

When you enter their chamber, their eyes find you out, drinking in your graceful form and aloof. When you departed, their thoughts lingered on fleeting glimpses of skin, a curve of the lips suggesting a hidden smile.

They told themselves your presence meant nothing, you were but a tool, and deserved neither their notice nor care. But you remain etched in their memory, haunting the desires they dared not speak aloud.

When your name arose in conversation, each of them listened with keen interest under the guise of strategy or necessity. They poured over reports bearing your sigil, seeking any new morsel of insight, awaken dormant longings within their hardened hearts. They contemplated all the things they imagined you might be, a prize to be won, a mind to bend to their will, a body to claim, a fleeting moment of solace. Fantastical musings, soon banished with derision at their own foolishness.

The Primarchs would banter and plan wars, oblivious to how each mind wandered elsewhere, to fleeting imaginings of limbs entwined, hands caressing cold skin brought to strange warmth, lips parting in sighs never meant for them. You, who had awakened desires long thought dead within unyielding souls.

But such impossible visions must remain unspoken, poisonous fruitless imaginings better left buried. They continued on, concealing aching desire behind masks of duty and pride. All wondering if any hint of their secret longing would betray itself, should you ever truly look upon them and see.

*******

The Emperor sat upon his golden throne, deep in thought. Unknown to his sons, he was aware of their hidden longings for an Imperial Agent. And this one who had unknowingly captured the hearts of his mighty sons. The Primarchs, great generals crafted to span galaxies and shape Imperium, now found themselves longing for the simple nearness of one so seemingly without artifice.

Their feelings were neither surprising nor shameful, but had the potential to cause discord if left unchecked. Discreet intervention may be needed.

The Emperor chuckled softly. "It is the way of things." He said to you. "Great beasts in nature preen and prance, trying their best to impress the one they desire. They become awkward, stubborn creatures, guided not by reason but longing."

He remembered well those struggles, those endless games of courtship played out in the guise of duty and honor. And though his sons were made for mightier things, part of him rejoiced to see stirrings of love within their stony hearts.

"My Emperor, forgive me for my ignorance but I don't understand." You confused.

The Emperor smiled. "Like peacocks displaying their plumage."

You are oblivious to the Emperor's hints. Still remained focused solely on relaying information, missing the sign in his words.

The Emperor sighed. "As dawn breaks and the flowers blossom." He continued. His words grew more obscure, comparing his sons to suitors hoping to catch the eye of a beloved. Yet still you did not grasp his meaning.

The Emperor suppressed a chuckle. "As seeds drifting on the wind, hoping to find purchase in fertile soil." he said wryly. You listened, but still blind to its context.

The Emperor's smile widened. "How unfortunate that so many should work, while you remain oblivious to their achievement."

You bowed, taking leave in confusion. The Emperor sighed. His sons' affections were obvious to him, but they themselves were blind. You were untouched, seemingly unable to perceive how you had captivated the hearts of beings never meant for softness.

Although his great plans were set in motion, he saw now how one small change, one cracked egg in the nest, could unravel it all. The tiniest mortal, a mote of forgotten dust, now held the hearts of his greatest designs within the unaware hands.

He wondered, if you ever understood. If amidst all their plans and war, your simple "Yes" might reweave their fates in ways beyond any vision, any cunning or will he possessed.

The Emperor paused, considering. Perhaps it was for the best that his subtle hints fell on deaf ears. What good would come from you knowing the power you held, without ever asking for it?

[graysoniconography]

Saint George the Great Martyr

Icon by me

The Holy Great Martyr George the Victory-Bearer, was a native of Cappadocia (a district in Asia Minor), and he grew up in a deeply believing Christian family. His father was martyred for Christ when George was still a child. His mother, owning lands in Palestine, moved there with her son and raised him in strict piety.

When he became a man, Saint George entered into the service of the Roman army. He was handsome, brave and valiant in battle, and he came to the notice of the emperor Diocletian (284-305) and joined the imperial guard with the rank of comites, or military commander.

The pagan emperor, who did much for the restoration of Roman might, was clearly concerned with the danger presented to pagan civilization by the triumph of the Crucified Savior, and intensified his persecution against the Christians in the final years of his reign. Following the advice of the Senate at Nicomedia, Diocletian gave all his governors full freedom in their court proceedings against Christians, and he promised them his full support.

Saint George, when he heard the decision of the emperor, distributed all his wealth to the poor, freed his servants, and then appeared in the Senate. The brave soldier of Christ spoke out openly against the emperor’s designs. He confessed himself a Christian, and appealed to all to acknowledge Christ: “I am a servant of Christ, my God, and trusting in Him, I have come among you voluntarily, to bear witness concerning the Truth.”

“What is Truth?” one of the dignitaries asked, echoing the question of Pontius Pilate. The saint replied, “Christ Himself, Whom you persecuted, is Truth.”

Stunned by the bold speech of the valiant warrior, the emperor, who had loved and promoted George, attempted to persuade him not to throw away his youth and glory and honors, but rather to offer sacrifice to the gods as was the Roman custom. The confessor replied, “Nothing in this inconstant life can weaken my resolve to serve God.”

Then by order of the enraged emperor the armed guards began to push Saint George out of the assembly hall with their spears, and they then led him off to prison. But the deadly steel became soft and it bent, just as the spears touched the saint’s body, and it caused him no harm. In prison they put the martyr’s feet in stocks and placed a heavy stone on his chest.

The next day at the interrogation, powerless but firm of spirit, Saint George again answered the emperor, “You will grow tired of tormenting me sooner than I will tire of being tormented by you.” Then Diocletian gave orders to subject Saint George to some very intense tortures. They tied the Great Martyr to a wheel, beneath which were boards pierced with sharp pieces of iron. As the wheel turned, the sharp edges slashed the saint’s naked body.

At first the sufferer loudly cried out to the Lord, but soon he quieted down, and did not utter even a single groan. Diocletian decided that the tortured one was already dead, and he gave orders to remove the battered body from the wheel, and then went to a pagan temple to offer thanks.

At this very moment it got dark, thunder boomed, and a voice was heard: “Fear not, George, for I am with you.” Then a wondrous light shone, and at the wheel an angel of the Lord appeared in the form of a radiant youth. He placed his hand upon the martyr, saying to him, “Rejoice!” Saint George stood up healed.

When the soldiers led him to the pagan temple where the emperor was, the emperor could not believe his own eyes and he thought that he saw before him some other man or even a ghost. In confusion and in terror the pagans looked Saint George over carefully, and they became convinced that a miracle had occurred. Many then came to believe in the Life-Creating God of the Christians.

Two illustrious officials, Saints Anatolius and Protoleon, who were secretly Christians, openly confessed Christ. Immediately, without a trial, they were beheaded with the sword by order of the emperor. Also present in the pagan temple was Empress Alexandra, the wife of Diocletian, and she also knew the truth. She was on the point of glorifying Christ, but one of the servants of the emperor took her and led her off to the palace.

The emperor became even more furious. He had not lost all hope of influencing Saint George, so he gave him over to new and fiercesome torments. After throwing him into a deep pit, they covered it over with lime. Three days later they dug him out, but found him cheerful and unharmed. They shod the saint in iron sandals with red-hot nails, and then drove him back to the prison with whips. In the morning, they led him back to the interrogation, cheerful and with healed feet, and the emperor asked if he liked his shoes. The saint said that the sandals had been just his size. Then they beat him with ox thongs until pieces of his flesh came off and his blood soaked the ground, but the brave sufferer, strengthened by the power of God, remained unyielding.

The emperor concluded that the saint was being helped by magic, so he summoned the sorcerer Athanasius to deprive the saint of his miraculous powers, or else poison him. The sorcerer gave Saint George two goblets containing drugs. One of them would have quieted him, and the other would kill him. The drugs had no effect, and the saint continued to denounce the pagan superstitions and glorify God as before.

When the emperor asked what sort of power was helping him, Saint George said, “Do not imagine that it is any human learning which keeps me from being harmed by these torments. I am saved only by calling upon Christ and His Power. Whoever believes in Him has no regard for tortures and is able to do the things that Christ did” (John 14:12). Diocletian asked what sort of things Christ had done. The Martyr replied, “He gave sight to the blind, cleansed the lepers, healed the lame, gave hearing to the deaf, cast out demons, and raised the dead.”

Knowing that they had never been able to resurrect the dead through sorcery, nor by any of the gods known to him, and wanting to test the saint, the emperor commanded him to raise up a dead person before his eyes. The saint retorted, “You wish to tempt me, but my God will work this sign for the salvation of the people who shall see the power of Christ.”

When they led Saint George down to the graveyard, he cried out, “O Lord! Show to those here present, that You are the only God in all the world. Let them know You as the Almighty Lord.” Then the earth quaked, a grave opened, the dead one emerged from it alive. Having seen with their own eyes the Power of Christ, the people wept and glorified the true God.

The sorcerer Athanasius, falling down at the feet of Saint George, confessed Christ as the All-Powerful God and asked forgiveness for his sins, committed in ignorance. The obdurate emperor in his impiety thought otherwise. In a rage, he commanded both Athanasius and the man raised from the dead to be beheaded, and he had Saint George again locked up in prison.

The people, weighed down with their infirmities, began to visit the prison and they there received healing and help from the saint. A certain farmer named Glycerius, whose ox had collapsed, also visited him. The saint consoled him and assured him that God would restore his ox to life. When he saw the ox alive, the farmer began to glorify the God of the Christians throughout all the city. By order of the emperor, Saint Glycerius was arrested and beheaded.

The exploits and the miracles of the Great Martyr George had increased the number of the Christians, therefore Diocletian made a final attempt to compel the saint to offer sacrifice to the idols. They set up a court at the pagan temple of Apollo. On the final night the holy martyr prayed fervently, and as he slept, he saw the Lord, Who raised him up with His hand, and embraced him. The Savior placed a crown on Saint George’s head and said, “Fear not, but have courage, and you will soon come to Me and receive what has been prepared for you.”

In the morning, the emperor offered to make Saint George his co-administrator, second only to himself. The holy martyr with a feigned willingness answered, “Caesar, you should have shown me this mercy from the very beginning, instead of torturing me. Let us go now to the temple and see the gods you worship.”

Diocletian believed that the martyr was accepting his offer, and he followed him to the pagan temple with his retinue and all the people. Everyone was certain that Saint George would offer sacrifice to the gods. The saint went up to the idol, made the Sign of the Cross and addressed it as if it were alive: “Are you the one who wants to receive from me sacrifice befitting God?”

The demon inhabiting the idol cried out, “I am not a god and none of those like me is a god, either. The only God is He Whom you preach. We are fallen angels, and we deceive people because we are jealous.”

Saint George cried out, “How dare you remain here, when I, the servant of the true God, have entered?” Then noises and wailing were heard from the idols, and they fell to the ground and were shattered.

There was general confusion. In a frenzy, pagan priests and many of the crowd seized the holy martyr, tied him up, and began to beat him. They also called for his immediate execution.

The holy empress Alexandra tried to reach him. Pushing her way through the crowd, she cried out, “O God of George, help me, for You Alone are All-Powerful.” At the feet of the Great Martyr the holy empress confessed Christ, Who had humiliated the idols and those who worshipped them.

Diocletian immediately pronounced the death sentence on the Great Martyr George and the holy Empress Alexandra, who followed Saint George to execution without resisting. Along the way she felt faint and slumped against a wall. There she surrendered her soul to God.

Saint George gave thanks to God and prayed that he would also end his life in a worthy manner. At the place of execution the saint prayed that the Lord would forgive the torturers who acted in ignorance, and that He would lead them to the knowledge of Truth. Calmly and bravely, the holy Great Martyr George bent his neck beneath the sword, receiving the crown of martyrdom on April 23, 303.

The pagan era was coming to an end, and Christianity was about to triumph. Within ten years, Saint Constantine (May 21) would issue the Edict of Milan, granting religious freedom to Christians.

Of the many miracles worked by the holy Great Martyr George, the most famous are depicted in iconography. In the saint’s native city of Beirut were many idol-worshippers. Outside the city, near Mount Lebanon, was a large lake, inhabited by an enormous dragon-like serpent. Coming out of the lake, it devoured people, and there was nothing anyone could do, since the breath from its nostrils poisoned the very air.

On the advice of the demons inhabiting the idols, the local ruler came to a decision. Each day the people would draw lots to feed their own children to the serpent, and he promised to sacrifice his only daughter when his turn came. That time did come, and the ruler dressed her in her finest attire, then sent her off to the lake. The girl wept bitterly, awaiting her death. Unexpectedly for her, Saint George rode up on his horse with spear in hand. The girl implored him not to leave her, lest she perish.

The saint signed himself with the Sign of the Cross. He rushed at the serpent saying, “In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Saint George pierced the throat of the serpent with his spear and trampled it with his horse. Then he told the girl to bind the serpent with her sash, and lead it into the city like a dog on a leash.

The people fled in terror, but the saint halted them with the words: “Don’t be afraid, but trust in the Lord Jesus Christ and believe in Him, since it is He Who sent me to save you.” Then the saint killed the serpent with a sword, and the people burned it outside the city. Twenty-five thousand men, not counting women and children, were then baptized. Later, a church was built and dedicated to the Most Holy Theotokos and the Great Martyr George.

Saint George went on to become a talented officer and to amaze the world by his military exploits. He died before he was thirty years old. He is known as Victory Bearer, not only for his military achievements, but for successfully enduring martyrdom. As we know, the martyrs are commemorated in the dismissal at the end of Church services as “the holy, right victorious martyr....”

Saint George was the patron saint and protector of several of the great builders of the Russian state. Saint Vladimir’s son, Yaroslav the Wise (in holy Baptism George), advanced the veneration of the saint in the Russian Church. He built the city of Yuriev [i.e., “of Yurii.” “Yurii” is the diminutive of “George”, as “Ivan” is of “John”], he also founded the Yuriev monastery at Novgorod, and he built a church of Saint George the Victory Bearer at Kiev.

The day of the consecration of Saint George’s Church in Kiev, November 26, 1051 by Saint Hilarion, Metropolitan of Kiev and All Rus, has entered into the liturgical treasury of the Church as a special church feastday. Yuriev Day is beloved by the Russian people as an “autumn Feast of Saint George.”

The name of Saint George was also borne by the founder of Moscow, Yurii Dolgoruky (+ 1157), who was the builder of many churches dedicated to Saint George, and the builder of the city of Yuriev-Polsk. In the year 1238 the heroic fight of the Russian nation against the Mongol Horde was led by the Great Prince Yurii (George) Vsevolodovich of Vladimir (February 4), who fell at the Battle at the Sita River. His memory, like that of Igor the Brave, and defender of his land, was celebrated in Russian spiritual poems and ballads.

The first Great Prince of Moscow, when Moscow had become the center of the Russian Land, was Yurii Danilovich (+ 1325), the son of Saint Daniel of Moscow, and grandson of Saint Alexander Nevsky. From that time Saint George the Victory Bearer, depicted as a horseman slaying the serpent, appeared on Moscow’s coat of arms, and became an emblem of the Russian state. This has strengthened Russia’s connections with Christian nations, and especially with Iberia (Georgia, the Land of Saint George).

(www.oca.org/saints/lives/2015/…)

Saint George the Victory Bearer and Great Martyr, pray for us!

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Squirrelscar

Aliases / Nicknames: Killer, Stain of WindClan, My Love, Papa, Best Mate in WindClan, Squirrelstar

Gender: male

Sexuality: heterosexual

Family: unnamed mother, Branchmoss( father), Shimmerwhisker (stepmother), Sloebeak, Strawfreckle, Stumppaw (sisters), Wheatpelt, Peat (mates), Scorchkit, Treeblaze, Rosykit, Birchsmoke, Troutshine, Tigerpaw, Brindlekit, Daisypaw, Coniferpaw, Oliveshiver, Silkstar, Dahliatooth (daughters), Caterpillarsplash, Bravekit, Nightkit, Coalpaw, Honeyfern, Patchkit, Adderthroat, Boughmouse, Oakbubble, Stoatquiver, Lightningshimmer (sons), Elmpaw, Olivekit, Pinepaw, Fleetkit, Drizzlekit, Siltstalk, Blossomkit, Lightkit, Irispaw, Brokenthud (granddaughters), Whisperacorn, Bigdapple, Canopykit, Poppykit, Nutdrop, Canopyember, Butterflypaw, Weaselkit Fishpelt (grandsons), Mothpaw (great-granddaughter), Burdockpaw, Branchkit (great-grandsons)

Other Relations: Bayheart (mentor)

Clan: WindClan

Rank: leader

Characteristics: loving, brave pathfinder, good teacher, has exceptionally shitty luck

Number of Victims: 2

Number of Murders: 2

Murder Method: tripping, throwing onto Thunderpath

Known Victims: Foxash, Treestar

Victim Profile: warrior, leader who constantly reminded him of his first crime

Cause of Death: 1: badger 2: whitecough, old age 3-9

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

Honestly, the Clan had no idea how he pulled it off. Killing a full grown warrior as a newborn kit? Without help? Who in their right mind would believe it?

But believe it the Clan did, and so he was treated like a criminal for the first full-season cycle of his life.

After that, things settled down, but some things never changed.

When he and Wheatpelt welcomed a litter of three, he went to his family to tell the good news, only for his father and step-mother to tell him to get out of their sight.

Unfortunately, his good luck didn’t last.

His Scorchkit, his baby, dead of kittencough! He wailed and cried over the little body for hours, then redoubled his care of his remaining kits.

Those two kits grew into great warriors, and he and Wheatpelt soon decided to have a second litter, which blessed the couple with six kittens!

Unfortunately, StarClan was not feeling kind that Leaf-fall. Not only were two of his precious kits stolen from his life, but his sisters to boot!

A mere two moons later, Rosykit, on the eve of her apprentice ceremony, died of yellowcough.

Then Coalpaw, lost to greencough.

And then, the turning point.

He approached Treestar to ask for something, and the leader sneered down his nose, and said:

“You will never be able to outrun your guilt.”

His world stopped.

He wasn’t strong enough to protect his babies, barely strong enough to protect himself, and this rotting maggot had the audacity to bring up the crime he had committed before his eyes were even open!?

His long-lasting temper was starting to fray, which was worsened when Patchkit died of a claw wound. He once again went to Treestar, his idol, only for Treestar to say ‘The blood of your victim stains your paws. I hope it haunts you.”

Distressed, he spoke to his firstborn son, only for Caterpillarsplash to say that he never found Squirrelscar convincing as a warrior.

When he went to his Wheatpelt, his love, his one and only, she turned away in anger, saying that she could’ve trusted him once.

And then it clicked.

They thought he murdered his own son, his own precious kit.

Much like the murder that tarnished his infancy, how he didn’t snap then was a mystery.

But eventually, he couldn’t stand the backhanded comments about the deaths of his babies.

Treestar was found on the Thunderpath with his lives stripped clean out of his pelt.

Much to the shock of everyone, and in a move that probably made Treestar do flips in his grave, Crouchstar promoted Squirrelscar to deputy!

He never expected to go so far, so fast.

Suddenly, he was no longer the Clan pariah. He was respected, honored even.

His kits had kits, precious little bundles of fluff nonetheless afflicted with his cursed luck.

It was rare for his kin to make it to adulthood, but something else was about to change dramatically.

Crouchstar died, leaving Squirrelscar--now Squirrelstar--to take over the Clan.

His lives ceremony was… something else.

Coniferpaw, his daughter, gave him a life for happiness.

Ferretglide gave him a life for sympathy.

Mapledawn, his son, Adderthroat’s, mate gave him a life for clear judgment.

Magnoliawhisker, a former medicine cat, gave him a life for duty.

Almondacorn gave him a life for courage.

Springdapple, the mentor of his son, Boughmouse, gave him a life for strength.

Jaggedtuft, the mentor of his grandkit, Butterflypaw, gave him a life for endurance.

Siltstalk, his first grandkit to reach adulthood, gave him a life for friendship.

Finally, Crouchstar gave him a life to overcome his fears.

Through his lives ceremony, he should’ve been happier, but he kept looking for his lost family. Where was Wheatpelt? Where were the rest of his babies?

He moped, but was soon distracted by his new responsibilities.

Until Peat, his second love, died, birthing their last litter of three.

He started slipping after that, dozing off from reality as the Clan seemed to fall apart.

When Oakbubble died, rather than promoting a competent warrior, he promoted his own daughter, Silkspeckle, to the position instead, letting her run things while he moped in the sun.

Many would later say that he died of a broken heart.

But others would say he was haunted. Many would claim to see a dark tabby figure lurking beside him, whispering poison into his ears.

Additional Information:

--Submission by @ambitiousauthor

--I think I mentioned on another post where a newborn kit killed a warrior that it's probably some luck like the warrior went to see them and just so happened to have an aneurysm when they entered the nursery or the kitten touched them, or they died the same day--but the Clan is super stupid and superstitious that they believe the baby caused it.

[drowninginblox]

My thoughts on Cole Cassidy/Jesse McCree‘s real name

I want to talk about this ever since Jesse got a rebrand but I haven’t really had the space to talk about it. Or whenever I try to talk about it it just came off as a little weird. So this is me trying to alleviate that urge to ramble.

Again…

Sorry

By the way, all of my thoughts are going to be taking place in Canon. I already know about Blizard being dicks, and all that other crap. All of what I am going to word vomit is my own in universe justification for Jesse deciding to change his name or going back and using his real name.

So. Cole Cassidy.

Not his real name

I don’t like the idea of Cole being his real name. Not because it’s a bad name but because of the headcannons I have about his family.

I like to think that Cole grew up in a very rough and tumble household you know? Dad wasn’t really there and if he was, he was a shitty parent. And mom, if she was there, either worked her ass off to take care of her kid and deadbeat husband, or was just as much as of a dead beat as dad.

Regardless of the tragic backstory, I don’t think Jesse would willingly go through with the name he was born with

If anything, I think he would carve a new name for himself one that history will remember- hence Jesse McCree

TLDR very much Eugene Fitzherbert

Who does he tell about his real name/changing his name?

I don’t think he tells anyone in overwatch his real name. I think they all assume that his “real name” is Jesse McCree for the longest time because that’s what he refers to himself as and that’s what The Wanted posters say

That, and I think he has documentation under that name to further solidify it. (thanks, Ashe)

But if he had to tell anyone in overwatch, and I mean anyone, I think it would only be two people maybe three.

Those people being in no specific order

Angela Ziegler

Genji Shimada

Anna Ahmari

If you’re in overwatch fandom, I think you can assume why each of these people would qualify for the honor of knowing his real name. But for the sake of me rambling, I’m going to indulge in my thoughts and feelings, as to why each person knows

For Angela, I think it would be in a life or death situation. Very much when he lost his arm. If he sincerely thought that he was going to die I think that he would confess a few things to Angela. One being Jesse McCree isn’t his actual name. Now would it be the first thing he would tell her- absolutely not, but it would definitely be one of those things. He’d do it to have overwatch get in contact with his mother if he does pass in the line of duty. (I have some headcannons about his mom, but that’s a whole ‘Nother conversation.)

For Genji, I can see it both as a life or death situation, or as a very niche, private, casual conversation. Just for the exclusivity of Genji knowing who Jesse was before he got into overwatch. Trust issues and all that from one Jussie and Genji, or for us getting to know each other.

Now for Anna. Again, life or death situation. However i prefer to think this would be a accidental happenstance. Very much a “I got drunk and told my mom somethings she shouldn’t have known.” I think that if he were to disclose this information to her, he would also add how much he hates his dad and/or extended family.

Regardless, of who he tells no one will tell anyone else about this information

And no, I am not giving Gabe the benefit of the doubt when it comes to knowing Jesse’s true identity. I don’t care about the father/son relationship HCs. I think that Jesse’s real name is a one of those things that Jesse doesn’t feel comfortable telling Gabe. And that is completely fine!

Now, when it comes to changing his name- the first person he would tell after all this time would probably be Genji.

Then Tracer. Then anyone else who is new or hasn’t gotten the memo yet.

Going off of this train of thought, I think Reinhart would have a hard time getting it down. Not out of disrespect! Just out of hazy memory, and- like- the habit of referring to Jesse as Jesse for so long. The same can be said for junkrat as well. Mostly cus he probably refers to him as cowboy or Clint Eastwood (cus of Roadie)

Outside of overwatch, I think the people having the hardest time getting down this new name is the media. Hell I think the talon is more progressive than the media. Most of their team are gay so

Now we’re onto my favorite part- how do I utilize this fact in my fics

Ever since blizzards, melt down/the overwatch two trailer, I’ve been setting most of my fics in that time of the team is still getting together, but they aren’t on the same page yet

To elaborate- the team that we see in Paris are currently all traveling in a pack. Meanwhile, the rest of the people who are on the overwatch roster i(n game) are currently in groups/on their own in different parts of the world

For example, Jesse and Hanzo are traveling together. Mainly for my own shipping pleasure! (Fic coming out about that soon by the way)

I also like to think that road hog and junk rat are finally getting out of that outback after being inprisoned by the junker queen

The junker queen maybe trying to conquer the world. Effectively canoeing her way off of Australia and into New Zealand

The new Kitsune character and Dva are meeting up somewhere. Probably at like a fan meet in greet or something (I have a lot of head cannons about the kitsune girl)

Just a lot of smaller stuff like that you know?

So, in this weird scattered-about moment in overwatch lore/limbo, I like to think that some people know when other people don’t and that’s OK. Sometimes people won’t know until last minute, especially in overwatch’s line of work.

In fact, you can see in my latest my HaiNoon/ McHanzo or… Ig McGenji fic? BITE. I mean Bite. (Bite is such a gray area my God. Like it has McHanzo implications, but it also has McGenji interaction for the main meat of it so you know… I’m rambling!)

Bite has -throughout the fic- Cole acknowledging himself as Cole, but he’s letting Genji refer to him as Jesse.  it is until the end of the fact that Jesse corrects Genji. In that same story, while I was writing it, I was thinking about what the other characters refer to Cole as. And I don’t think he’s gotten the time or courage to tell them what name he wants to be preferred by yet.

They were on the battlefield like not even a few days ago for crying out loud. Priorities need to be set.

So yeah

Thanks for reading.

[fireember345]

Unicorn Wars; A God Born Sequel Idea

Unicorn Wars; A God Born Sequel Idea

Do not own Unicorn Wars

Just came up for the idea for the sequel.

It starts at the aftermath of the war when the soldiers of the Teddy Bears and Unicorns are dead, and the monkeys follow their God. The God is empty, hollow, cleared of any thoughts or feeling as they stumbled to who knows where, until stumbling into a cave. They learned from memories of Bluey and Tubby how to make fire as their head ache from the pain. The monkeys continue to bring food and supplies as the God was trying hard to think. They keep seeing the faces of Bluey, Tubby and Maria, all calling out their names, until the God made a name for themselves, Bluturia.

They learned how to make clothes and built a house as the monkeys continued to obey their every command. They soon discover powers like growing wings to fly, summoning light and using the elements to their whims. Soon surviving unicorns who didn’t take part in the war uncover the energy of Maria who was missing. They find Bluturia, feeling Maria inside them and stole him away from the monkeys to learn their power of nature from within.

Through the unicorns, Bluturia remembered compassion, nature, and love, seeing the memories of Maria and Tubby. The God ask this of the unicorn while their hair grew long, to his ankles why he remembered people he never met. The unicorns explained that Tubby and Maria, he was reborn from them and one other through violence, hate, anger, envy, love, guilt, compassion, empathy, honor, sacrifice and many other parts of the of his soul. Something created them into one being, what is the question.

Meanwhile, the goop monster from the chapel is looking for Bluturia to devour while trying to eat everything in its path.

Bluturia continued to live with the unicorns to understand their way, unsure why they felt hatred towards them. He kept hearing the whispers from Bluey to kill them all to the point that they were painful. They were soon discovered by bears, looking for their leader Bluey after the bloodshed of their people, while trying to rebuild the bear military after they were all wiped out.

They tried to kill Bluturia, but they mains and even kills a few of the bears, trying to tell them that they were Bluey once, even going as far as telling them things that not even Bluturia was sure they knew. The priest bears with the soldiers realized that Bluturia is Bluey and that he was reborn a god like the prophecy predicted. They take Bluturia before the unicorns could reach them.

The bears worshiped Bluturia as memories of Bluey came, his hatred of his mother, the sorrow from his father, the envy of his brother, the deep hatred inside them. The God was given a palace as the bears vowed to forever serve them, and to kill any remaining unicorns after learning that they are still there. Every piece of Bluturia’s soul was at war with one another and sought out the only living relative he had, his father.

When Bluey and Tubby’s father sees him and sees his sons within him, he was devastated and wrapped in guilt for not being a better father to either of them, but that he loved them both no matter what form they took, causing Bluturia to cry.

Bluturia then visited the grave as Tubby questioned Bluey within Bluturia why he killed their mother. Bluey confessed that he knew of their mother’s affair and that she favored Tubby over him. He hated how every good thing happens to Tubby, yet he had to work to be better. But Tubby informed Bluey that their mother loved them both more than anything and was consumed with guilt by her affair, never gaining the courage herself to just simply divorce her husband and do the decent thing.

Bluturia awoke to find the bears looking for him as they pleaded their God to protect them from the monster the unicorns unleashed in revenge. The monster was attacking everywhere that Bluturia went as Bluturia remembered the monster from the chapel through Maria. The monster was coming from them and no one else.

The monkeys found Bluturia as they were confused in serving him or serving the monster while the unicorns and bears blamed each other for the monster and were preparing for war again. Bluturia was at war with himself, Bluey want them to kill the unicorns and side with the bears while Maria wants them to send the bears away and side with the unicorns! They tried to kill each other but couldn’t.  Tubby was the only one who helped them, telling Bluturia that they have the power and what they must decide for themselves.

Bluturia then saw the universe as a whole and gain the final thing they needed, epiphany and balance. Bluturia stopped the fighting of the unicorns and bears, ordering them to work together to overcome the monster or all will die. Overwhelmed by their divinity, they put aside their anger towards each other to fight the real threat to their world.

Bluturia confronted the monster and in an epic fight, banished it to the darkest pit.

Bluturia realized they couldn’t stay as they evolved beyond the bears and unicorns and thus left with a palace to reign as a God, never to interfere but influencing others to make better decisions.