#incredible feeling really

[solarkindred]

Kar-el sighed, looking depressingly into his mead. The mumbled voices of his scryers echoed softly to him, comforting Kar-el.

“Thanks for the words, but I almost died. Those monsters the lich summoned about gutted me like a fish.” He drawled lowly, taking a long sip of his cold alcohol. He heard the voices of his many patrons die down. None of them could disagree with the fact, he did indeed almost die, it was harrowing even for them. Kar-el felt the back of his hand start to tingle uncomfortably, he scratched it, not paying any mind as he sorrowfully ate his poorly seasoned steak that tasted horribly chewy and a bit too peppery. When he went for drink he glanced down at his hand and coughed into his mug, the burning yeast infused-liquid shot down into his lungs as he coughed violently.

He stared bug-eyed at the holy symbol on the back of his hand, adamantly ignoring the flaring pain along his torso. It was a circle with a long cross and a black form resembling a crown above it. He had only heard of this spell, this piece of holy scripture. It was Wrath of Mortzal, as translated into common, and it was a very powerful and extremely particular spell. The requirements to even be viable for it was to have experienced an ordeal of death first-hand and have an long history of faith. Kar-el lacked one of those; he did not believe in any faith, a mighty atheist. So, it begs the question of how did he manage to obtain Wrath of Mortzal and who gave it to him?

The a mightily amused and baritone laugh echoed loudly in his mind and instantly Kar-el knew this was the woman who gave him this mighty spell. Many of scryers were in a frenzy, demanding loudly to know who the mystery woman was and her place in the Church of Death, Mortzal’s domain.

“It’s an honor to meet the renowned Kar-el. I am Shiv’ja, Pope of the Church of Death.”

Kar-el choked on his spit, quickly fumbling to clean his mouth of frothed mead and fixing his posture, dark face flushed deep scarlet,”Ah. Great uh, Shiv’ja. What… what brings you to my scried adventures?” He muttered lowly, glancing fervently around him to make sure no one heard him, not even the barmaid. Shiv’ja chuckled, he could imagine her leaning back in some expensive red velvet chair and holding a glass of wine as she watched him fool around. It was an embarrassing thought to think.

“Nothing much, a friend recommended you to me. Let me borrow her scry-glass to watch you, Kar-el, and so far I have not been disappointed.”

The Pope hummed, and Kar-el groaned,”Well, now you don’t have to borrow your friends, you can scry on me with your own now that you have… so generously, donated to me..” he said hesitantly, glancing down at his hand as he stiffly shoved his steak into his mouth. He assumed someone like the Death Church’s Pope to have her own scry-glass for whatever reason.

“Well then, I suppose I might have to invest in one now.”

Oh.

Anyway, he finished his meal and quickly left the loud, sweaty tavern, pulling his weathered cloak closer around his shoulders as he was welcomed by the biting cold of the snowy mountainside town. He stomped through ankle deep snow to the inn-slash-shop. The sky was dark as the Moonless Mourns was at its peak this week. Basking in the crisp warmth of the inn-shop he walked to the store clerk, who’s massive segmented antennae flicked, and he coughed awkwardly,”Hello again, I’d like ten of your healing potions, two five yard ropes and another… uhm…” he paused as one of his scryers whispered into his ears ‘mourning candle’, he nodded,”Oh yes, a mourning candle please.” The insectoid clerk looked up from their book, Money Managing and Spending Vol. 1, and blinked their four eyes slowly before chuffing. With a small shake of their head, they grabbed what Kar-el asked for and placed them on the counter. Kar-el grabbed two gold coins and a few silvers for the pay and handed them off to the clerk grabbing his new equipment and set out for the snow again.

Thank the many gods he did not believe in for his scryers because he was terrible with directions. He looked over the sheer cliff face and saw his last rope swinging idly in the harsh winds of the untamed mountains. He took a breath, shaking his sweaty palms, holding his side as it began to throb again from his battle two nights ago. Cursed skeletal monsters and draugr. Kar-el could faintly hear them from here, groaning and hissing, the mindless and silent rattling of bones. An eerie shiver crawled up his spine and stayed. He toke the two ropes and tied them together and connected it to the snow buried remains of his earlier attempt. Tugging the rope, making sure it was still solid against the boulder and tied correctly, he started to descend. As he muttered the sticky feet enchantment mantra, he hyped himself for another, hopefully successful, attempt at the lich’s dungeon.

He failed last time due to his lack of effective magics against undead, but now he had Wrath of Mortzal, the god of Death and Rebirth, in his ever growing arsenal. Perhaps this time would he finally see the undead king’s face. Or maybe lack thereof?

You're a Warlock. But instead of drawing power from a higher being, people can choose to donate a portion of their magical power to you. In exchange, they can scry on your adventures and can send telepathic messages to you, as well as make requests. It can get annoying, but you make it work.

[exilley]

I do sort of wish western anime fans would analyze anime and manga from a framework of japanese historical and cultural context. Specifically a lot of works from the 90s being influenced by the general aimlessness and ennui that a lot of people were experiencing due to the burst in the bubble economy and the national trauma caused by the sarin terrorist attack. I think in interacting with media that’s not local to our sociocultural/sociopolitical sphere it’s easy to forget that it’s influenced and shaped by the same kinds of factors that influence media within our own cultural dome and there ends up being this baseline misalignment of perception between the causative elements of a narrative and viewer interpretation of those elements. It’s a form of death of the author that i think, in some measure, hinders our ability to fully understand/come to terms with creator intent and the full scope of a work’s merits

[egophiliac]

2025 is the year of the DRAGON SLIPPERS

[batsyheere]

Bruce tries to adopt Ellie, who is immediately against it. She keeps throwing him off her trail and he keeps tracking her down. She's honestly concerned, and normally she would handle her problems by herself- but this is Batman.

So when Bruce gets a little too close and Ellie is just so tired... she calls for Danny.

"Mom!"

Cue college student, perpetually tired and overworked Danny "High King Phantom" Fenton appearing from the very shadows Batman normally does himself, seeing the situation and going off at this "clearly older man" chasing his daughter in the middle of the night.

Cue the most elaborate "stop trying to adopt my kid before I adopt yours" series of battles

[framblebee]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE 1x2 After the Phantoms of Your Former Self

—You should just throw me in the incinerator, make another one. —Hm. And what a waste that would be.

[curioscurio]

I'm rewatching Steven Universe and I will never forgive Fandom for what it did to her

[shaykai]

Still thinking about Gortash’s coronation and how smoothly he cuts a Durge off from their companions (and wishing we had a follow up with that)

The first words out of his mouth are that he cares about them- anybody else who remembers Durge has only distain for them, but not him- he’s happy to see them, he missed them, they’re his favorite assassin and he’s only glad to see them alive

And then he takes it a step further by providing insight into their past, something Ketheric refused to do for them- and Gortash isn’t dumb. He knows exactly how Durge’s companions will react, knows that he’s effectively outing Durge when he so easily could have pulled them to the side instead

And when their companions snap at them and refuse to look at them, Gortash is still smiling. Suddenly, he’s the nicest person in the room. Suddenly, everything is unstable and dangerous- but he likes you. He’s sitting there with open arms while the companions are rightfully so mad with Durge, but Gortash is more than happy to resume their alliance

He’s more than happy to be their sole source of comfort again, and isn’t he just so sweet for that?

[twinstxrs]

fabian’s insistence on calling someone to tell them about lucy & yolanda because he thought people just deserved to know, out of respect. both deeply sweet & incredibly gutting. (bill seacaster move over that’s MY darling boy)

[craykaycee]

life is good when you got a sunny Sun doodle in ur pocket

He's so happy to see you! You've been gone for a looOOOoong while, friend, but he's so glad you're back! You two can play games, tell stories about your adventures outside the daycare, and have an extra long snack time! Won't you stay a while?

[m00ngbin]

AY(OYM) CHAPTER 6!!!!!

Sorry to reuse buddy elf hater Teru I just think he's great. Fits the theme (not really at all LMFAO)

[vaguely-concerned]

the fact that irving canonically survives through the end of asunder to be at wynne's funeral is so fucking funny to me. nothing but love and respect for MY unstoppable cockroach morally grey machiavellian mage dad!!! he's survived in his position through multiple attempted rites of annulment and blood mage plots popping up left right and center around him. the chantry keeps trying to stamp him out but his dodge game is simply out of this world, divine. civil wars, political machinations and minefields, chantry atrocities, this wily old motherfucker is dodging and weaving his way through it all, not-quite-no-hits-taken-running-it-but-honestly-close-enough-under-the-circumstances style. if solas does succeed in tearing down the veil I would fully believe that one of the like three people still alive at the end of it all would be a very weary 90 year old first enchanter irving going 'oh this shit again huh'. the maker has cursed him for his hubris and his paperwork is never finished (affectionate, it's fine he canonically loves paperwork)

[homkamiro]

"Love, huh?"

[mayasaura]

I don't wanna further hijack that poor poll, but the thing about Harrow's schizophrenia is that it's canon. The author has confirmed it, and shared that it's based on her own experience.

It's a pretty obscure bit of canon, so of course there's no shame in not already knowing, but that's why I'm so obnoxiously persistent about letting people know.

Whatever else is up with Harrow, autism or cptsd or any number of likely headcanons, she is also schizophrenic. I feel like that's too important to be handwaved away as a difference of opinion.

[ionomycin]

mermay

[khaoala]

❝Two years ago, I lost both my parents in an accident. It felt like… my whole world collapsed. All my happiness was gone. But I had to keep going, carrying that sadness inside me.I’ve been wondering when I’ll finally be free of this feeling. Every time I think of the happy moments, thoughts of my parents… bring back sadness and take over. If I had a choice, I would choose to feel nothing at all.❞

EMI THASORN as PAM PHARAWEE and BONNIE PUSSARASORN as KANDA CHITRARAK episode 2 of US

[savanir]

The cure to vampirism is to never get turned at all

Dick is not ashamed to admit he's in trouble. 

He's surrounded on all sides by vampires (because that's a thing now), he's put in this situation by his sister which is just great. Some ancient vampire lady named Pandora says she needs him to defeat the Queen of Blood named Mary and he's pretty sure that involves him being turned into a vampire as well, which he doesn't want. 

He's good but even he can tell his odds are pretty shit. There is no backup coming and even if he could call them they would never arrive on time. 

And of course he's in his civvies and doesn't have any of his gear. Just fantastic. 

But if he goes down he'll go down fighting.

"DANIEL!!"

everything screeches to a halt as the furious booming male voice echoes through the room. 

A large ornate wooden double door in the back slams open and a young man rushes through slamming them closed behind him.

Intricate red and green flashes of energy cover the doors and then the young man turns to the crowd in the fancy crypt.

"Our young gifted prince? There is no need for you to attend this meeting, But if there is a way we may assis-?" The question hovers in the air, choked off as the young man runs forward and with hands shimmering in eerie venomous green and deep blood red energy he tears through the random vampire's throat, startling all the others. 

"I'm putting an end to this madness, here and now" He drops the gradually disintegrating corpse on the ground. 

"Young prince!?" Exclaims lady Pandora.

For Dick things become a blur after that. Screaming and screeching and inhuman growling. The young man easily tears through them all with his powers. It seems some form of backup did arrive, but if this is a blessing or a curse remains to be seen.

Dick doesn't understand though, he seems to be one of them so why...?

One second they are all still fighting then the next the old vampire lady is lying dead on the ground, gradually turning into dust. The vampires who remain all stare at the young man in shock. “he… he killed Pandora, our oldest. The strongest of us” 

None of them seem to know what to do now. There are a lot of dead vampires all around, in Dick’s humble opinion this meeting could not have gone worse for the acolytes of shadow. He’s not feeling too upset about that though considering what they wanted from him. Still, the fact that they aren’t outright trying to kill this young prince in retaliation… he must be someone special, that alone is more than enough for Dick to keep his guard up around him.

Then the young man darts forward and grabs Dick's wrist, "we have to leave, the seal I put on the door is about to break. I won't be able to protect you from him"

"Who?" Dick can’t help but ask as they both start running for the exit. The young man quickly dragging him up the stairs. For a split second does Dick think about Melinda, he’s not entirely sure if she was among the ones killed or not. She was the one who tricked him into that mess. 

Well, she absolutely knew the consequences, she told them about him being Nightwing, if whatever is left down there decides to punish her for this fiasco that’s probably what she deserves.

"I'll explain everything later, I promise, but we need to go now!"

The furious noises behind them grow steadily in volume. Danny pushes Dick forward as he slams the red fake fridge door closed behind them and another flash or red and green covers that as well, another seal of sorts most likely. The one other person in the kitchen startles as the two of them run past him.

"Who are you?"

"Call me Danny, now this way, quick!" the young prince, Danny apparently, faults over the Waffle House front desk Dick not hesitating to do the same.

"DANIEL HOW DARE YOU!" comes faintly from behind them as Danny slams the fake establishments front doors open and pulls Dick out of there.

"Oh he's next level mad" mutters Danny as they are running again. Meanwhile Dick is just very glad to be breathing in the fresh cold night air of Bludhaven. 

However, his legs are having trouble keeping up with the pace, he has taken some serious hits and those things definitely don't pull any punches. 

He can’t help the faint pained groan and the speed with which the other man snaps his attention back on him almost makes him flinch. 

"Do you need a hand?"

"I'm fine"

"Here let me-" 

Next thing Dick knows he's being carried, if he wasn't friends with so many supers and speedsters he'd probably be flailing. Instead he's just kinda used to it and lets it happen even if it’s a bit awkward what with Danny being a bit shorter than him.

He's glad when they get to a safehouse and Danny puts him on the couch. He then goes to fetch Dick the first aid kit. 

"Who were we running from?"

"Old as balls vampire lord named Vladimir Masters, he’s in cahoots with the acolytes of shadow. And I guess he’s now fully in charge seeing Pandora just had her final death."

Dick pauses and just looks at him. 

"Yes he's really named that" Danny looks rather tired.

"And I'm guessing he's the sort who is going to be a massive headache"

"I mean they had this whole plan of world domination, you were a key player in that plan which is now completely ruined by the way. I was part of it too but I really don't want anything to do with any of that so... here we are"

"Here we are"

It's only when Dick is fully bandaged that Danny flops down in the nearest arm chair and drops his head in his hands and takes a deep shuddering breath. Perhaps all the murder is catching up to him? 

"Are you okay?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just... thirsty... I'll be fine" 

"Ah yes of course, vampire."

"I'm unfortunately a vampire yeah but don’t get it twisted, I'm absolutely not one of them" Danny looks up and sneers, Dick can now clearly see the fangs. “Seeing humans as cattle… the absolute moronic-” Danny trails off in furious muttering. “living in a world with demons and angels and aliens and whatever else but no we’re the ones who deserve special treatment.”

Dick makes a choice and then gets up, Danny watching him go and curiously listening to him opening and closing something in a different room before coming back and holding out a blood bag with a bit of IV tube hanging out of it. 

"Here you go."

“Oh! thank you,” Danny gladly takes the bag, "You just have bags of blood in your house?"  

"You never know when you need an emergency blood transfusion. Especially considering my nightly activities." … you know that sounds kinda vampiric in it’s own way doesn’t it?

Danny snorts and starts drinking. It kind of looks like a huge capri-sun that way. It's sort of adorable. 

If only it wasn't a massive plastic bag of Dick's own blood but whatever. 

They both fall quiet as Danny focuses on his drink and Dick takes a moment to think about the absolute mess he just went through.

“Someone called you gifted… what did they mean by that?”

“This mostly,” Danny holds out his hand and shows Dick the strange glowing mixture of red and green energy he saw down in the crypt. “I am a huge anomaly because I became a vampire while I was half alive and half dead. What that means for the most part is enhanced powers, I am even harder to kill than a regular vampire and you cannot fix my vampirism with one of those disgusting smelling pits of… what was it called? Lar- Lazard?” “Lazarus,”

"Yes that! Anyway I am like.. the backup to their world domination plan, initially they just wanted me to be their weapon but I have morals, pesky things, super annoying according to them. Which is why they decided to ‘recruit’ you. But I managed to screw that up too.” Danny looks very satisfied with himself about that. 

“Thanks for that” Dick says genuinely earning him a cheeky sharp fanged grin from Danny. Though he wished it had not involved such a massive carnage, he’s very glad he’s not a vampire right now. Beggars can’t be choosers he guesses.

“It would probably be best to get the League involved, root them all out. Vlad is definitely going to make more drastic moves now that things have turned out this way.”

Dick ponders to himself, “Yeah… let’s be Helsing about it,” He already got a Vampire on his side too.

Danny dejectedly looks down at his empty blood bag, “... can I have another?” He asks carefully.

“Sure!” responds Dick with a smile that finally manages to ease the tension out of Danny’s shoulders.