#prince morded

[braddocklegacy]

Betsy Braddock mantra: “Die or be killed”

[kilfeur]

Fun fact about the French dub of Hazbin Hotel : Aaravos and Zestial, Viren and Adam and Zubeia and Sera share the same voice actor.

What have i done

I definitely have too much free time...

[official-stolas]

A letter arrives in a heavy ivory envelope, addressed to Stolas and sealed with an ornate green wax emblem: Dear Esteemed Member of the Ars Goetia,

I write to you this day to humbly request assistance in a matter of great personal importance. As one who has witnessed the rise and fall of countless civilizations during my time in Hell, I find that there is yet a step missing in my pursuit of the power I seek. You may have already surmised the reason for this letter, given that I am addressing you—Stolas, His Celestial Majesty, Grand Duke of the Astral Spheres, Sovereign of Arcane Astronomy, Keeper of the Secret Paths of the Stars, and Lord of the Celestial Beasts and Hidden Wisdoms.

However, for the sake of clarity, I shall disclose it nonetheless. My hope is that you, in all your divine wisdom and power, might see fit to assist me in learning how the stars influence the fates of men, nations, or even the pathways to power within Hell itself. I wish to unravel the hidden secrets of the heavens and gain the insight that you alone possess. If it would please Your Majesty, I humbly seek to become your student in this most arcane of arts.

I await your reply with bated breath, Your Majesty.

Zestial Morde, the Ancient Overlord @zestialmorde

The answer arrived only a short time later on Goetia stationary, an elegant hand of cursive written across the page.

Lord Zestial,

I thank you for your letter denoting your interest in my work. I have heard of you and know that many in Hell regard you with high esteem. I am afraid I cannot assist you in every aspect of the knowledge you seek given the nature of my work ties very closely to that of my bloodline and the duties we perform for Hell itself.

However, I am willing to assist in other ways. Perhaps you would be available to join me for tea in my home? My estate is in the Pride Ring so you would not have to venture far at all. This Sunday afternoon? Please reply with your answer as soon as you are able.

Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia

[terapsina]

Question of the hour. Can someone figure out what my shipping type is through ten of my all time favorite OTPs?

I ask because I can't.

1. Swan Queen.

Enemies to Friends to Lovers. Angst. The Evil Queen and the Savior. Divorced Moms Feeling. Co-parenting their kid plus town. Battle Couple. Obsessed With Each Other's Happy Ending.

---

2. Elejah.

Tragically Opposite Sides. Mirrors of Each Other. Loyalty. Family. Betrayal. Humanity. Mutual Respect. Regret. Cruelty. Inherent Understanding of What Makes The Other Tick. Full of Weirdly Reciprocated Awe. Casually Dropping 'Always and Forever' in Basically a Love Letter.

---

3. Pardison.

Utterly Fluffy. Sweet. Friends to Lovers. The Hacker and the Thief. Each Other's Safe Space. Good Communication. Rock-solid Foundation. Completely Without Problematic Aspects and Yet Extremely Interesting.

---

4. Hizzie.

Enemies to Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers. Squabbling Like an Old Married Couple. Bitches Against The World. But Also Very Soft. Actually Kinda Obsessed With Each Other. Would Kill For Each Other. Would Also Occasionally Want to Murder Each Other. Right Person, Wrong Time. More Romantic Than They Think They Are. Multiple Jealousy Scenes.

---

5. Bellarke.

The Sloooooowest of Burns. The Head and The Heart. Everyone Including Their Friends, Their Families, Their Antagonists and Their Separate Love Interests Sees It. Completely In Love With Each Other. Being Apart Breaks Them. Each Other's Weak Spot. Also Each Other's Strength. Absolute Idiots. Not Actually Unrequited.

---

6. Graylora.

My Newest Babes. The Prince Turned Mage and the Destined Empress. Initially Unrequited. Friends to Future Lovers. Inspire Hope in Each Other. Find Strength Through The Other's Faith. Awkward Turtleducks. Seeking Purpose and Fearing Destiny. Torn Apart and Longing To Reunite. Tragic "Death" Scene and Savage Vengeful Reaction.

---

7. Clizzy.

Tactile Agony. No But Seriously So Much Touching. Meet-cute Head Bump. Constant Overt Flirting. BFFs to lovers. Falling For Her Brother's Girlfriend. More Chemistry Than The Canon Wants to Allow. Delicious Vibes Of Undercurrent Longing. Just Kiss You Fools.

---

8. Spuffy.

Enemies to Reluctant Allies to Squabbling Children to Nearly Frenemies to Almost Friends to Doomed Lovers to Actual Friends to Lovers. They're a Comedy. They're a Tragedy. They Don't Work and Yet They Do. They're a Rollercoaster of Pain. They Can Be Alone Together. They Trusted Each Other Even Back Before They Liked Each Other. They've Seen The Best and The Worst Of Each Other. No Other Ship Has Hurt Me As Much as This One. The Slayer and The Vampire Who Got His Soul For Her.

---

9. Kahlan/Cara.

The Mother Confessor and The Mord Sith. Reluctant Allies to Enemies to Friends to Lovers. The Confessor Who Chose to Spare Her Sister's Killer. And The Trained Killer Who Couldn't Make Herself Kill The Confessor Even To Save Her. Even Though She Has Magic Resurrection Powers. TWICE. Sexual Tension Oozing Through The Screen. Kahlan Wouldn't Be Able to Confess Cara Either, Fight Me.

---

10. Green Queens.

Two Sociopathic Queens In Love. Would Totally Enslave The Galaxy If Their Families Didn't Hit Them Over The Heads With Rolled Up Newspapers and Say 'NO! BAD QUEENS! No family dinners for you'. Would Do Cold Blooded Slaughter For Each Other. Kinda Have Actually. Sharing Immortality Because What's The Point of Living Forever if They're Not Together.

---

So that's it. Ten of my favorite ships. Do they have a common element? I don't know, I'VE certainly never been able to identify one.

[thewhumperinwhite]

WKW: The Voice That Shakes The Stones (Part 2)

Continued directly from this, but will make more sense if you've also read The Rose Queen parts 1 and 2.

This one follows part one in terms of getting some plot stuff out of the way up top and then some Really Heavy Whump in the back half lmao

TW for: broken bones (including ribs and spine), blood, aftermath of beating/caning, past/referenced child abuse, referenced parental death, referenced decapitation, Again Broken Bones To The Extent That It Is Essentially Body Horror.

----

Morden raises a sculpted eyebrow at Tern. “Been opening my mail, have you?”

Tern looks at him; or at least Morden assumes he does. Tern wears an elaborately constructed mask sewn out of feathers and leather and bone, and removes it very rarely.

“I open everyone’s mail,” Tern says.

Morden knows this, of course. He has no secrets to keep from his own Falconers, and if and when such secrets do arise, he will simply have Thorne deliver them. If Morden feels—caught off guard, set on edge, it is no fault of Tern’s, and snapping at his own Scout will not help him feel more in control, anyway. Morden arranges himself more casually at his desk with a bit of effort.

“What do you think of the Lady’s proposal?” he asks, forcing his voice back into its usual light and airy register.

Tern tilts his head. The mask makes him the most actually-birdlike of all the Falconers, a fact Morden usually finds endearing, though he is struggling not to be annoyed by it at the moment.

“It’s my job to know things, not to act on them,” Tern says finally. Which is a letdown after such a long thoughtful pause, even though it is also true. Morden does not roll his eyes, but the temptation is there. “What do you think, Mord?”

Morden sits up straight and brushes his hair from his face. What he thinks is, she must have eyes in the Castle that Morden can’t see, to be able to time this missive so exactly. But that thought is uselessly paranoid—Tern would know, and Tern would tell him—so he is not entertaining it. Or vocalizing it, either.

“I think she’s audacious,” he says instead, which is true. “And I think I had better consider carefully before I think anything much else.” He folds the letter back up, so that he will not keep reading it uselessly over and over, and looks up at Tern, pretending to make eye contact through the mask. “In the meantime, make sure the Prince doesn’t die, will you? I may finally be able to put him to some use.”

Tern nods, and stalks out silently, still in his soft-soled scouting boots.

Morden makes it, optimistically, another five minutes before he unfolds the letter to read it again.

“Your desires have aligned neatly with our own, dear Crane,” reads the now-familiar script, “and the appropriate sacrifices have been made.”

Morden has not yet opened the accompanying jeweled and gilded casket, but the size and heft of it—and, more importantly, the smell—makes him fairly confident he knows what will be inside.

“A healthy partnership ought be reciprocal, however,” the letter goes on.

Morden chews his thumbnail, a nervous habit he does not often indulge. He scolds himself; he is only now realizing how he has begun to enjoy his exchanges with the Rose Queen, how they have begun to feel so like a game of chess against an interesting opponent as to make him forget the stakes. It has left him feeling—exposed, now, at best; trapped if he is not careful.

He needs to make a plan.

----

This is not part of Crow’s job.

It’s all very well for Tern, who relays Crane’s instructions—“Fix up the Summer Prince; the White Crane had his fun and now wants not to play with broken toys”—and then scurry off with the excuse of some Important Scouting Duty, which Crow suspects is probably bullshit.

When Morden introduces the Falconer’s, he says that Crow’s job is “Throatcutter,” the one who makes sure everyone’s theatrics have resulted in actual corpses at the end of every ambush and skirmish. And although that isn’t all he does—far from it—that is certainly part of his job. If the White Crane had said, “I’m too busy to finish killing the Summer Prince, finish that up for me, will you?” Crow would have done it, and with a whistle and a spring in his step.

Crow is built for ending lives, it’s truly what he’s best at. He doesn’t prolong pain on purpose; he isn’t Raven. Once a creature is past a certain threshold of injury, keeping it alive becomes—boring and sad, and little else.

The Summer Prince flops slightly at Crow’s feet, as if hearing him think this. He is moving like a deboned fish. Sounds a bit like one, as well.

Morden is going to owe him, and Morden doesn’t enjoy owing things, even to his own Falconers. So at least, Crow thinks, there is that.

“I don’t suppose you can walk,” Crow says. He slides the toe of his boot underneath the writhing shape of the Summer Prince, meaning only to nudge him slightly.

There is—more give in the ribs than there should be.

The body at his feet spasms violently as the Prince tries to curl in around himself. He manages to twist his torso in a way that makes Crow’s gorge rise a bit in spite of himself, his handless arm flopping over and up to haphazardly cover his face. His legs don’t move at all.

Crow contemplates, very briefly, the idea of picking the Summer Prince up off the floor and carrying him to Heron’s quarters, or more probably to the Castle’s Healer. He doesn’t mind blood, as a rule. The blood would not be the problem.

The Prince heaves in what must be his first full breath since Crow entered the room several minutes ago. It scrapes audibly against his throat; the effort of taking it arcs his back up off the floor, except that his legs still haven’t moved. Something—either ribs or spine, Crow isn’t sure which—grinds audibly inside him and he loses whatever air he has managed to take in in a single quiet, bubbly-sounding wail.

“Eugh,” Crow says, and turns his back on what is rapidly becoming the corpse of the Summer Prince. Where has that bloody wolf pup got himself to? Cleaning up Morden’s messes is literally that kid’s whole job.

----

(Andry can’t see. He can almost breathe, if he tries very hard. It feels like lifting a very heavy weight, and at the height of each breath there is a sudden stabbing pain in his back, just left of the center, that makes him twitch. He is in—water, maybe. Or anyway his face and shoulders and ears feel wet. His lips feel wet, too, although the inside of his mouth feels very dry indeed.)

(He must have hit his head, he thinks. He knows that burning cracked-egg feeling well enough, in his temple and below his right ear and on the high point of his opposite cheek. And his back is cracked open that way too, not sharp and bone deep like the whip but broad and blunt and shattered like his father’s cane.)

(His father is—dead, he thinks, around the buzzing in his head, like bees tangled up in cotton wool. The White Crane cut off his father’s head, and Andry could not catch it when it was thrown. And now he cannot even tell if he is sorry. His father did kill him once, after all.)

(He had known where he stood with his father, though. His father was not elegant and smiling, like the White Crane.)

(Although the White Crane was not smiling this time, was he, Andry thinks; no, this time he was angry, and the worst part is that Andry does not even know why.)

(…Andry thinks that is the worst part. Then he tries to move his legs.)

----

Heron is the Falconers’ battlefield medic, and he is not a healer. He has smelling salts in his bag that will get a man to his feet and into the fray with an arrow through the stomach; and skill enough with a needle and a bandage to patch up even serious punctures well enough to heal on their own. He even knows the basic alchemy needed to keep a wound from going septic about seven times out of ten.

In this situation he is useful only in that he has a stretcher he is willing to bring to Thorne’s chamber in exchange for the privilege of seeing a mutilated body.

Crow returns with Thorne and Heron after about five minutes, and it is clear as he nears the threshold and begins to hear the Prince’s breath whistling in and out, like wind blowing across a broken bottle, that the boy has not done him the great favor of dying in the interim.

One of the Prince’s eyes is open when Crow stands over him again, but it is rolled back in his head far enough to hide all but a thin ring of blue-purple iris. The other eye is already swollen too far to open more than a crack. Every time he takes a far-too-audible breath he shudders, violently, exactly twice. His torso is still twisted at that odd angle, as though he has tried to roll over onto his side without lifting his hips.

Thorne has been helping Heron carry the stretcher. When he enters the room he drops his end of it with a loud clatter.

Heron does not seem to notice, though he gamely drops his end of the stretcher, too, so that he can dart closer to the body, his pale eyes glittering behind his physician’s mask.

(Tern and Heron are both masked more often than they aren’t; both masks, as far as Crow is concerned, are products of paranoia. Tern is convinced some authority or other is going to discover his identity, as though that would matter now that he is at the right hand of the conqueror of a whole damned country. Heron is concerned about inhalants. This seems sensible sometimes, even to Crow; Heron takes apart something like a half-dozen cadavers a week in pursuit of his craft. However he also wears the mask when it is just the eight of them alone in the Nest or in their rooms here at the castle, and that seems like overkill to Crow.)

As always, Heron’s hands are light, and clever, and ruthless. He pulls the Prince’s fluttering eyelid up and peers closely into his eye, tipping his head back quite gently. Then he presses his fingers against the Prince’s shattered ribs with slow, deliberate pressure, using his hand in the Prince’s hair to keep the Prince from curling up in a ball at what must be excruciating pain. Heron’s face is quite close to the Prince’s answering gasp. Crow, a safe distance away with his arms crossed, thinks to himself that perhaps Heron wouldn’t need the mask if he was willing to do his job without getting so very close.

When the Prince has relaxed out of his pain-spasm, Heron taps twice on the sharp edge of the Prince’s sharp recently-starved hip bone with a gloved fist. The Prince’s gasp this time is much quieter, more of a hiccup than an airless scream.

When Heron stretches out a booted foot to give the Prince’s calf a not-particularly-gentle kick, the Prince doesn’t react at all.

“That’s interesting,” Heron says, his voice dark with things Crow finds professionally distasteful.

----

Thorne left Andry—what, thirty minutes ago? An hour? Surely no more than that. Thorne left Andry asleep on the couch at the foot of his bed, wrapped in Thorne’s borrowed sheets, curled up like a child with the stump of his missing hand tucked under his chin.

Thorne’s bedsheets are in disarray, now, on the floor in front of the couch. There is blood on them. There seems, at least to Thorne’s suddenly spotty and blurred vision, to be blood more places than there isn’t.

Heron’s hand is on Andry’s throat, now, prodding narrow deep bruise that is forming there. Heron is hovering over Andry with the same excited twitchy over-interest with which he treats any sick or injured person. Thorne is familiar enough with Heron’s attention to remember the growing unease and sick, crawling discomfort it inspires.

He usually finds it easier to look away.

“Well go on,” Crow snaps at him from where leaning against the wall, looking mildly disgusted but little else. “Get him on the fucking stretcher already.”

Thorne’s instinct to obey is honed sharply enough that he moves to follow the order without thinking. So at least there is that relief.

[idagnyheter]

Barn rekryteras när gängen eskalerar sina attacker i Haiti

På torsdagen tvingades en FN-helikopter nödlanda i huvudstaden Port-au-Prince när den beskjutits av gäng i Haiti, rapporterar AP. Ingen av helikopterns 15 passagerare eller besättning på tre skadades av skotten mot den. Händelsen är ett i raden av mord de senaste månaderna som markerar en upptrappning av gängvåld i Haiti. Bara några dagar tidigare ska två pansarfordon som tillhörde den…

[rongwizzle]

Que le ' motre ' mord ' PERCY !? Percy ...,

wheare are the chicken stips ?!

"Yo logo woupa homo homie ; means ... , ; do you , ? Understand the meantoning of family ? There is no way to exchange the dinamic of language in a family . Forign does not register when introduction to family , when a diffrence in calibration is attempted it may cause the family to seek seperation to maintain the eceancse of the bond . Like in Spanish . PRINCE ! STFU! "

Douxue tomille tourille - NO I DIDNT ASK FOR A CHIPIE BOT FOR XMAS ...

" See I didn't do that subcounctiously ... and the alternate people think I am using the wrong words to talk to you . "

I will be the narrirator " " ' See I didn't say that .... I did say that ! .... You are bad at this ... ' " "

" So I search for the guy ... is not the fact ; they do fall into the right place , like snowbanks . Men ... now dont get fucking crazy on me . The lack of understanding od reality is a language berrior ; there is no language for proper sexual property in hormone levels and in basic biologiac perminance in expertice in esponaoleish spasnish . "

.......... See Prince has already had so many thoughs that he can't do anything except get back from TIm Hortons to his name of a screan .... Men fall into me heart like that ......

[edithhaimbergernotebook]

Five Years after Jamal Khashoggi Was Murdered, a Protest in Berlin

On October 2, 2018, the Washington Post columnist (and former Saudi Arabian newspaper editor) Jamal Khashoggi walked into Saudi Arabia's consulate in Istanbul, Turkey, to get paperwork to marry his fiancée. There, he was gruesomely murdered.

Saudi Arabia's government reported in 2020 that 8 people had been convicted of the murder. But observers have serious doubts about the fairness of these trials, and believe that Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman ordered the murder.

Other, independent attempts to prosecute the true perpetrators have failed internationally.

Turkey

“Im April unterbrach ein Istanbuler Gericht einen Prozess, der wegen des Mordes an dem Journalisten Jamal Khashoggi im Jahr 2018 in Abwesenheit gegen 26 saudische Staatsangehörige geführt worden war. Das Gericht entschied, das Verfahren an Saudi-Arabien zu übergeben. In der Folge verbesserten sich die bilateralen Beziehungen zwischen den beiden Ländern.” - Amnesty International report on Turkey, 2022

('In April, an Istanbul court broke off a process that had been conducted in absentia against 26 Saudi citizens due to the murder of the journalist Jamal Khashoggi in 2018. The court decided to turn the case over to Saudi Arabia. In the wake of that, bilateral relations between the two countries improved.')

Germany

Reporters without Borders (RSF) asked Germany's public prosecutor general to investigate the murder of Khashoggi as well as the persecution of 34 Saudi journalists as a crime against humanity.

In 2021. So far, the prosecution has not begun.

United States

In September 2022, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman because the Prime Minister of Saudi Arabia. As such, he is considered the head of state, and the Biden administration ruled in November that he cannot face a lawsuit over Khashoggi's death.

~

In the meantime, Saudi journalists and dissidents, even family members of dissidents, have been spied on or subjected to cyberattacks.

*

"Wir setzen uns weiter dafür ein, dass dieses ungeheuerliche Verbrechen lückenlos aufgeklärt wird. Zudem fordern wir die Freilassung der mindestens 24 weiteren in Saudi-Arabien willkürlich inhaftierten Journalist*innen." - Reporter ohne Grenzen (Facebook), October 2, 2023

So a group of around 10 people gathered opposite the Saudi embassy in central Berlin in the early afternoon today.

Reporter ohne Grenzen (Reporters without Borders) led the protest, calling for justice for Jamal Khashoggi.

They had written on Facebook, in German, 'We will engage ourselves further to ensure that this horrendous crime is thoroughly investigated. In addition we demand the release of the 24 or more further journalists who have been arbitrarily imprisoned in Saudi Arabia.'

Reporter ohne Grenzen also demanded freedom for Raif Badawi.

-- Badawi is a former blogger who served a long prison sentence and was lashed for 'insulting Islam.' He is now separated from his wife and children due to a travel ban that prevents him from joining them in Canada. --

Aside from a police van and photographers, and people walking in and out of the fenced embassy grounds in street clothes, it was quiet.

*

Human Rights Watch's latest newsletter roundly condemns the impunity that Saudi Arabia's government has enjoyed - not just in killing Khashoggi and putting down the press in general, but also in slaughtering Ethiopian migrants at its borders as well as Yemeni civilians.

Amnesty International Germany marked the 5th anniversary of Jamal Khashoggi's death by writing on Facebook, calling for an independent, impartial criminal investigation.

[nevermord]

So, this entire situation is because Prince Mord isn't just an ass, but a drunken idiot as well. Lovely.. XP

FIACH NA FION, a tale of Almost Ireland (part 3)

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Almost Ireland

FIACH NA FION

<==Previous   Next==>

His eyes widened as he felt the power course through him. When the power was done, I released his hands. He looked at them as if he had never seen them before, then raised his eyes to me. That thought was warring with awe showed in his gaze. Thought won out.

“Lady Fiach, if I am to get you to the Circle of Caddach, we must go tonight. By tomorrow, all paths will be guarded. Gather what you need and let us be gone.”

I was not used to being so ordered about by anyone but what he said made such sense that I obeyed. I had no fear for his loyalty. I bustled about the tower, gathering into a pack such things as I might need in the places we were going to go, if we won through to the Circle. Of provisions and mundane necessities, Killan was busy making a second pack. It took only a few minutes to be as ready as we could be. I choose a stout, straight staff of ash, shod at each end with bronze, and strode for the door. Killan barred my way, and put out the candles and torches. He led the way, catfooted in the darkness, to a small window at the tower’s back, and lifted me out. His pack was next. His frame nearly jammed in the window as he came through, but for all that, I did not hear him touch the ground.

“I must leave my spear at the gate but I have more weapons hidden in the woods,” he whispered. “Surely the gate is watched, and the paths near to the Circle, too. Can we leave the Garden by any route but the gate?”

Keep reading

[yes-bernie-stuff]

Ecclésiaste 10

1 Les mouches mortes infectent et font fermenter l'huile du parfumeur; un peu de folie l'emporte sur la sagesse et sur la gloire.

2 Le coeur du sage est à sa droite, et le coeur de l'insensé à sa gauche.

3 Quand l'insensé marche dans un chemin, le sens lui manque, et il dit de chacun: Voilà un fou!

4 Si l'esprit de celui qui domine s'élève contre toi, ne quitte point ta place; car le calme prévient de grands péchés.

5 Il est un mal que j'ai vu sous le soleil, comme une erreur provenant de celui qui gouverne:

6 la folie occupe des postes très élevés, et des riches sont assis dans l'abaissement.

7 J'ai vu des esclaves sur des chevaux, et des princes marchant sur terre comme des esclaves.

8 Celui qui creuse une fosse y tombera, et celui qui renverse une muraille sera mordu par un serpent.

9 Celui qui remue des pierres en sera blessé, et celui qui fend du bois en éprouvera du danger.

10 S'il a émoussé le fer, et s'il n'en a pas aiguisé le tranchant, il devra redoubler de force; mais la sagesse a l'avantage du succès.

11 Si le serpent mord faute d'enchantement, il n'y a point d'avantage pour l'enchanteur.

12 Les paroles de la bouche du sage sont pleines de grâce; mais les lèvres de l'insensé causent sa perte.

13 Le commencement des paroles de sa bouche est folie, et la fin de son discours est une méchante folie.

14 L'insensé multiplie les paroles. L'homme ne sait point ce qui arrivera, et qui lui dira ce qui sera après lui?

[hoardcloneheadcanons]

Misread Fates Chapter 6: The Honest Words of a Heartless Man

You know I don't have to die to fulfill my fate, right? I just have to fail. You don’t have to kill me for this to work.”

“Oh, is that what this is- a plea for your life?” Phillip shrugged, “It’s better to be on the safe side of destiny, besides you know too much.”

A skip happened in Bruin’s brain.

“I wouldn’t have known so much if you hadn’t blabbed to me the moment I woke up, “he thought “ You could have lied. You’ve lied to everyone why didn’t you lie to me?” 

The days passed by surreally as Bruin healed slowly from his wounds. So many questions stayed stuck on Bruin's tongue, lost to sleep, and a lack of focus. So many times passed when he built up the courage to ask the Prince more questions before someone new burst into the room: either Mordecai or one of Phillip’s private guards coming to change shifts with him.

Bruin tried to ask them for answers but they remained silent as stone.

Then the day of the feast came.

Bruin finally, finally got to a point where he could stay awake for an entire day without his eyes crossing, or nearly faceplanting into his soup. And apparently, the townspeople were chomping at the bit to meet him and thank him, because the moment they trusted him to hold up a spoon and eat on his own there was a feast held in his honor.

He was still half covered in bandages, and his skin, while no longer in pain, was discolored, and he was unsure if his eyebrows would ever come back, but they seemed happy to meet him anyway.

Men came up to him with choked voices, and either shook his hand or gave him a (gentle, very gentle) grasp of the shoulder. Women put soups and casseroles in front of him, much of which was dragon meat, and he got a nice leather coat from the tailor, made of the leftover supplies of cowhide. 

“I would have made it of dragon leather, but I’m still figuring out its properties and how to work with it. I could only added a little of it in the details of the collar and the hem.”

The worst were the children, they almost broke Bruin.

A little girl showed him the new coat her parents had bought her. She did a little spin so he could see it all. Her dress had holes, but she had a brand-new coat and boots for the winter. She gave him her favorite rocks from her collection, including one that she found on the first night she was allowed to go outside after dark. She said it was blessed by the moon.

Then a little boy came up to him and said he wanted to be as strong and as brave as Bruin one day. Bruin nearly broke down crying in front of him,

Luckily the boy’s mother saw the glossiness in his eyes and quickly distracted the boy, pulling him away to greet their neighbors.

His face would never be the same, his family was in danger, and he’d broken his promise to his father to try and stay alive- but this. This was worth it.

He could breathe and tell himself it had to happen.

……

Bruin was flanked the entire night by Mordecai and Phillip. Mordecai gave him helpful tips about who everyone was while Phillip watched.

It was constant notable surveillance. To the passive onlooker, Phillip looked like the ever-cheerful and proud prince tending to his fighter. To the crowd, he might have looked like a little bit of a glory hog, remaining untouched and squeaky clean, while Bruin was toasted, but he seemed harmless and friendly enough.

Only Bruin felt the hand on the small of his back, ready to press in if he said something slightly out of turn. The Prince’s private guard around the room also remained ever-present. They were at ease, but none of the drinking, all were watching, and quiet, standing out from the revelry in their uniform greys and blues.

Bruin stayed at the party as long as he could. Not speaking as much, but watching, being on the sides, and distracting himself from his impending second death.

But he steeled himself, there was much to discuss and he needed a moment alone with Phillip.

Bruin attempted to fake a yawn and put a hand on Mordecai’s shoulder. He didn’t have to do much to fake it, he was already halfway gone.

“I think I’m getting worn out for the night. Thank you, for bringing me to this, for everything, but I should go back to my room and rest. You stay and enjoy the time with your friends, I’ll have Prince Phillip take me up.”

Mordecai looked stunned and… concerned? Was he over-acting? Did he seem too tired for his state of healing?

“Are you sure- I’m not sure that’s a good idea- It’s still a process bringing you to your bed, you should have someone of medicine around to make sure you can get in bed without putting undo pressure on your wounds.”

“I’ll be fine.”

In Bruin’s peripheral, he could see Phillip give him a side eye. He was ignoring it.

Mordecai looked hesitant”

“I still don’t think- it’s a two-person job really and-“

CRACK

Mordecai’s attention was drawn to Viesel the Tailor, who’d just fallen off a table he’d been dancing on, and was slowly getting to his feet woozy with blood already dripping down his temple.

“Oh, spirits Smith in his cups again. Between you and me, he shouldn’t be dancing sober. I need to tend to this. Phillip can bring you to rooms, but I’ll be up to check on you as soon as I can, this shouldn’t take more than an hour or two

Bruin turned to the Prince,

“Sire, can you bring me up to my room?

His smile was a perfectly arranged decoration.

“Why certainly- I can call over one of my guards-“

“Pleas,- I’d like to talk about the consequences of me- leaving my post while going on ahead.”

The prince looked ready to refuse him, and so Bruin said under his breath,

“Or should I tell them there was never a post, to begin with.”

The prince narrowed his eyes before his placating smile crawled back onto his face,

“Of course, I can understand wanting privacy, for such a delicate issue,” and then a bit louder, “Anything for our nation’s finest soldier.”

Phillip and one of his guards left the party with Bruin. The wheels of his transport crunched in the gravel as the prince pushed him forward towards the inn.

The town didn’t have a ready invalid’s chair, so Bruin was in a wheelbarrow.

“So,” said the prince, his voice creating warm clouds in the cold evening air, “What did you actually want to talk about?”

You know I don't have to die to fulfill my fate, right? I just have to fail. You don’t have to kill me for this to work.”

“Oh, is that what this is- a plea for your life?” Phillip shrugged, “It’s better to be on the safe side of destiny, besides you know too much.”

A skip happened in Bruin’s brain.

“I wouldn’t have known so much if you hadn’t blabbed to me the moment I woke up, “he thought “ You could have lied. You’ve lied to everyone why didn’t you lie to me?” he thought. But he persisted 

“I’m fairly good at keeping my mouth shut. I don’t talk a lot.”

“Excuse me if I don’t take your word on that.”

Bruin shook the failure off and continued forward, desperate to get any information he could

 “Where are my parents?”

Phillip gave out a half-bark of a laugh

“I don’t really have a good reason to tell you that,”

“I could run. I could just tell them you’re lying and then run.”

“That’s what the guards are for,” said Phillip, the boredom towards the questions seeping into his voice

“I could kill myself before we ever get there, make you unable to use my fate.”

“Then I have no reason to keep your family alive. Would I? Maybe I have them, maybe I don’t. Are you willing to take that chance? You don’t seem like a gambling man to me.”

He wasn’t. He’d had a plan, for so long he’d had a plan and now he had nothing. His body was broken and all he had to use was his unpracticed words.

“I-“

Bruin gave a grunt, a half-aborted scream.

“Can you tell me where we’re going next, at least”?

“We’re staying here for a while you heal. Then we’re going to take you somewhere where people can just slowly forget about you until we can find a monster stronger than a dragon.”

 “There aren’t any.”

“I’ll let our experts at the castle be the judge of that, besides, it doesn’t need to be more threatening than a dragon it just needs to seem like it is.”

Bruin tried to calm his rage- he couldn’t be threatening in this state, the best he could hope for was calm- and he was barely managing it.

“Do you know how long that will be?”

 “No.” He said. “I don’t.” Bruin hear spittle and gritted teeth behind his head” Certain current circumstances make the particular task difficult. My mother has a few contacts she’ll be pulling, but Spirits know if they’ll find anything.”

There was a rage in his voice but for once it didn’t feel directed at Bruin. It was that small moment of weakness that made Bruin want to jab at him a little.

Bruin craned his neck around to look at the prince and the guard behind him.

“So you know your mother paid off the dragon to eat everything.”

 The wheelbarrow stopped. The prince’s eyes shot daggers, while the guard beside him looked startled, and he looked back and forth between the faces of Bruin and the prince.

Before he could say much Phillip had him in a headlock,

“You’ve just disproven that you can keep your mouth shut. I’ll ask you kindly to keep that information to yourself.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?”

“You know exactly who I’ll kill. That’s the fun part about multiple hostages. You don’t have to keep all of them alive.”

“So much about your mother- Does your father do anything?,” Choked out Bruin.

Something about being near royalty made Bruin want to be an asshole. He expected to be choked out for that one, but Phillip loosened his grip and started chuckling, slapping Bruin’s shoulder as one would a knee. It stung.

“Have you just figured out my father is useless? Funny, I’ve known for so long. Though I suppose it is impressive. You learned from a distance. You haven’t even met the man.” His bitter chuckle got lower in pitch.

Bruin could feel Phillip’s breath on his shoulder, as he talked quietly, just to him.

 “Do you know- It’s his fault this is happening to you. We wouldn’t have needed you if not for him. My siblings and I should have been able to go out slaying together with the knowledge that at least one of us could kill the beasts. We should have been certain at least one of us had the fate. And it would have been that way if my father had not slept with the entire countryside. My mother has been cleaning up his mess ever since. She shouldn’t have had to. Our fate should have been guaranteed. Instead, we had to use you, and you might be one of his bastards for all we know. ”

Bruin clenched the word pathetic in between his teeth. He wanted to scream, “YOU STILL HAVE ALL THE RESOURCES! YOU STILL HAVE ALL THE GUARDS! PEOPLE ARE DEPENDING ON YOU FOR NO REASON, YOU ARE ON THE THRONE FOR A LIE.” And even more, “HOW DARE YOU EVER IMPLY MY MOTHER WOULD TOUCH YOUR FATHER.” But all the thousands of words choked up in his throat and made him frozen and shaking and rage.

Phillip stood up and started pushing the wheelbarrow again.

 “You know it’s relaxing being around you, Slater. I don’t have to lie to you. I’ve never had that with anyone. It’s nice.”

…………………………………………

Bruin stewed his head as the weeks went by and he was slowly divested of his bandages.

He was going to die again. Phillip was determined to have it happen.

And his thoughts drifted to his mother’s words to him.

“You are not dying for nothing.”

Well, he tried, hadn’t he? He tried to stay alive for his father and now he could only keep his word to one of his parents. And his thoughts rolled toward how… similar Phillip was to the dragon.

He was sentient. He had wants and desires, and he also gave every indication that he would continue to destroy lives easily and swiftly for as long as he lived.

So there was a very simple and brutal way to make his second death count, and it was one Bruin was hesitating to do.

 It was a line he’d never thought of crossing before. It would risk his family, though he suspected their lives were forfeit regardless of what he did

His mind drifted to the time at the party and the relief on everyone’s faces.

He wanted to be the source of it again. He didn’t want them under Phillip’s thumb.

………………

Bruin spent the next few weeks waiting. Waiting, to be strong enough. Waiting for his arms to be strong enough to hold a knife and move it in a swift motion, or to knock off some of his medications in the wrong place, when there was no one else around.

Waiting o feel certain he was making the right choice.

He found himself living Phillip’s lifestyle, smiling and trying to keep a face in public while dark thoughts swirled in his head.

He may have done it, if the innkeeper’s wife, Margret didn’t intercede.

Margret had taken on the task of feeding him. She wasn’t the only one, many people had shown their gratitude in the form of soup, but she was the main one.

He liked Margret. She’d talk for a very long time about the going-ons of her family while he ate. He liked her stories. And he didn’t have to talk while she did. She was a stout woman, solidly built, but she probably came up to his collar when he stood at full height. It meant having to crane his neck when she sat next to his bed.

He felt awkward about not doing anything in return for her, so at one point he tried to hobble himself outside to help weed her garden before she dragged him upstairs and reminded that he killed a dragon, they were still paying him back, and he was still healing. She was strong despite her size.

If the prince was around when she visited Bruin, she’d feed him too. She called him such a charming handsome young man and said she wanted to thank him for taking such good care of her homeland. She joked about wanting to get into his good graces.

It made Bruin want to scream. She didn’t know, he wanted to tell her but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even find the privacy to write “Don’t trust him” on a slip of paper and slide it to her.

So it wasn’t a surprise when Margret came up with two large bowls of steaming squash soup and a cask of nice ale.

It was a little surprising when the prince began to gently snore in his chair. But Bruin assumed he’d done it to avoid talking to Margret as he had done several times, by excusing himself from the room or switching duties at the right time.

He was surprised when Margret bunched up her skirt slightly and gave a swift kick to Phillip's shins.

That was when Bruin’s world turned sideways.

The prince didn’t wake up. Margret gave him another sharp kick just to be sure, then dropped her skirts and smoothed them out.

She turned her sunny face towards Bruin. “Ah good, it's working!- now I’m sure you have plenty of questions and I’ll answer them in just a second.”

She bustled her way over to the door, her shoulders tight with visible excitement.

“Johanson, you can come inside! The man is out cold.”

A large man with a coal-black beard came to the doorway. He filled the entire frame. He came into the room tip-toeing.

Margret gestured towards the giant, “This is my brother, Johanson, have you met him yet?”

Bruin’s eyes widened, “Yes, I have- you were the one who told me about the most fire-resistant materials- I bought arrows and a crossbow from you.’

“Glad to be remembered! My sister and I were worried about you.”

“Sister-“ Bruin’s eyes flicked back and forth between them. Where Margret was a head shorter than him, Johanson was a head taller. But on closer look, they had the same apple cheeks and when they smiled and the same hair bordering on frizzy and large biceps. They were definitely related.

There were chairs to the side of Bruin’s room that were used for visitors. The two siblings pulled them out and sat them close to Bruin.

Margret steepled her hands, “A few years ago our sister got married. You might have seen her, she runs the butcher shop- she’s tall, with dark hair, and big arms. He was a poncy fellow and we didn’t like him. We never got to see her when he wasn’t there; he never let her leave the house alone. And she was always quieter around him and didn’t smile as much as she did when we grew up with her. The man never let her leave the house alone, and she was too polite to say anything in front of him. We did this same thing to him.”

Johnson nodded sagely at his sister, “ I started to get worried. You didn’t talk like you did in my shop the first time we met. I thought it was just healing- but he never left you alone, and you don’t act like one of those guards of his. And I asked So-“

“-So he told me I made some of my special drink and here we are. He should just think the drink was stronger than he expected and the meal too heavy.”

Johnson nodded his head towards a large hammer he’d left as a doorstop, “ I also brought my Bessie just in case. I’m hoping we don’t have to use her. She leaves marks and it’s a bit riskier.”

 “So first things first,” Said Johonason, “Are you in any danger?”

Bruin had a thousand things to say. – an emphatic yes- and explanation that he’d been in danger since he was born- the fact the prince was a heartless bastard.

He looked back and forth quickly between the siblings and the sleeping Prince.

He stuck with, “He has my family-or, he says he does. And my mentor”

Margret and Johonason had mirroring looks of sympathy and surprise.

“Shit- Is that why you fought the dragon?”

“No- that was mostly my decision. The royal family did ask me, and I did suspect my family might be in danger if I didn’t. But they weren’t taken hostage until after I defeated it.”

“Why did they ask you?” said Margret “You’re so young- and you didn’t have anything when you came here. Are you actually one of his guards?”

“No. That was a lie. They asked me because if I fail they win. My family's fate is… interesting. Supposedly I’m supposed to fail to defeat a large monster and the person who fights after I fight is supposed to win.”

“Oh, that’s a bad one. We just have one of us works in the mines and whistle some every generation.”

A light rapping on the door interrupted their conversation.

“Margret, I’ve brought medicine, why is the door locked?”

“Oh that’ll be the doctor; I should probably let him in.

It was fairly common for Mordecai to step away while Margret was in the room, taking his necessary breaks and tending to patients outside of Bruin. It never occurred to Bruin until now that two seemed to be on shifts around him, never leaving him alone with the Prince or the guards.

Mordecai was greeted with the tableau of an unconscious prince and Johanson sitting close to Bruin with Margret’s empty chair right next to his.”

“What have you two done?”

Margret was the wave her hands in a ‘relax, shushing motion’

“I just slipped him a little of the herbs you gave my husband for his insomnia. He’ll be fine.”

Her voice went a little high on the fine.

“You’ve drugged a member of the royal family. Margret, you could be arrested or executed for this.”

“Mordecai,” Interrupted Johan, “He’s not a soldier.”

Mordecai squinted at Bruin, “Then why in the hell were you fighting a Dragon?”

Bruin caught him up to where he’d led the siblings. Mordecai had a few more specific educations in relation to his actual education and training and he filled him in as best as he could, leading right back into his new deal with the prince.

“He wants me to fight something stronger than the dragon and fail so that he can defeat it and look stronger and needed. He’s hoping- I think he's going to arrange it so that I die.”

The wind whistled through Johanson’s teeth.

“I thought it might be something nasty. That man washes his hands when he has to touch us. And nothing he’s said has quite added up.”

“I’ve been thinking about killing him.”

He said it quietly but it resulted in the two gentlemen beside him exploding.

“WOOAH WOAH WOAH. You could be- you will be executed for that. How old are you?”

“19”

“That’s too young to throw your life away,” Sputtered Mordecai, “You just survived a life-threatening situation. Don’t be so eager to dive head first into another one.”

“He’s going to kill me anyway.”

“There are a few more solutions. We can smuggle you out of here. Fake your death, there are options,” Johan looked exhausted.

“But my family-“

“We’ll check on your family. I have family in the capital, and we’ll send someone to your hometown. Let’s see if there’s some way we can get them safe before you do something drastic.” Mordecai let

While the two gentlemen looked frantic Margret looked considering, “It’s not the worst idea though. If he’s as bad as you say he is. We just need you to not get caught. Maybe frame bandits on the road, fake a disease. Something that doesn’t get back to us.”

“Margret stop talking about assassination attempts in front of the young man.”

Margret waved him off, “He was already considering it. And 19 is plenty old enough to kill a man. He just shouldn’t do it alone. The poor thing is till invalid.”

And just like that. The world was lighter; Bruin had a possible future again.

He really needed to get better at talking to people.

………………….

After that, he felt like he was lying less, and his smiles were more easier and more honest. He’d gotten a small talent for reading the Prince’s smallest expression and now he’d needle at him and wait for irritation, while he watched people exchange items and necessary information.

They helped him, because he mattered to them.

He liked that.

[greatshell-rider]

@tousleheadedpoet​ i started listening to hidden almanac again and thought i’d commemorate it with a meme

[darkflyers-a]

“ a-and if you see a blond british m-man who is allergic to clothing, please give him this face. ” ah yes, the neutral face of displeasure.

@aurdevi​ and a new face.

[asukachan07]

The Leader's Burden

Chapter 4: Mord-Sith

Chapter 5: Prince

[bloodybroadchurch]

TV Show Quiz

Thank you @andrethotterer for tagging me!! 💗 💗 💗

Pick 5 shows, then answer the following questions. Don’t cheat. Tag 10 peeps:

Tagging: @girlagainsthumanity, @draco9236, @not-falling-but-sauntering-down, @greatspacedustbin and @yagashiro :)

1. Grey’s Anatomy 2. 100 Days My Prince 3. Mord mit Aussicht 4. Hannibal 5. Broadchurch

1. Who is your favourite character in 2?

Weeeelll, such a difficult question :P jk, It’s Wondeuk/the Crown Prince

2. Who is your least favourite character in 1?

Hmmm well if we take the latest season of Grey’s (which I haven’t finished yet), I’d say Lynk. So far he just seems very bland... but I don’t hate him or anything, he’s just boring

3. What is your favourite episode of 4?

Ohhh the finale of season 2 Hannibal. So so good!

4. What is your favourite season of 5?

The first season of Broachurch, cause it was incredibly captivating and had you on the edge of your seat all the time trying to guess the culprit

5. Who is your favourite couple in 3?

Well, maybe Sophie Haas and her vet, but I’m not sure they’d wanna live together for the rest of their lives lol

6. Who is your favourite couple in 2?

Again, very difficult :P Wondeuk/Hong-shim

7. What is your favourite episode of 1?

I think I’ll have to pick the finale of the 6th season of Grey’s... that bloodbath hit hard when I was a teenager.

8. What is your favourite episode of 5?

Probably the very first one, cause you still have all of the guessing and exploring of the characters in front of you :)

9. What is your favourite season of 2?

1 of …. 1 ( @andrethotterer I’ll keep that answer)

10. How long have you watched 1?

For a very very long time. I think I was about 13 when I started watching Grey’s, then I watched religiously for a few years, lost interest for another few years and the last two years or so I’ve been getting back into the show for fun.

11. How did you become interested in 3?

Was watching TV and it suddenly came on late at night when nothing else was on so I stayed to watch this show and immediately loved it :) Sometimes German TV really has some gems

12. Who is your favourite actor in 4?

Mads Mikkelsen

13. Which do you prefer, 1, 2, or 5?

Considering I’ve been a fan of Grey’s for the longest out of the three, I think I’d have to choose that. Cause for the other two you need to be in a certain mood to watch it but Grey’s is always an option :)

14. Which show have you seen more episodes of, 1 or 3 ?

Well, Grey’s cause it has like 10000x the amount of episodes, but I’ve also rewatched Mord mit Aussicht far too many times :P

15. If you could be anyone from 4, who would you be?

One of Will‘s dogs cause I a) don’t wanna be a psychopathic cannibal or b) a person who’s slowly turned into a psychopathic cannibal or c) killed to be eaten by aforementioned ppl hahah

16. Would a crossover between 3 and 4 work?

uhm well both Hannibal and Mord mit Aussicht are about crime, but Hannibal is like the darkest and most psycholgically complex show and Mord mit Aussicht is more like a comedyshow about a frustrated city cop in the countryside being done with life 24/7 cause she’s bored as fuck... so idk how those two could match but I’d looove to see Sophie Haas arrest Hannibal :D that would be quite something (plus she’d never shut up about that achievement..ever)

17. Pair two characters in 1 who would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple.

Meredith and Taryn Helm

18. Overall, which show has the better storyline, 3 or 5?

Broadchurch... cause this show is driven by its plot whereas Mord mit Aussicht is more character and comedy based than on storylines

19. Which has the better theme music, 2 or 4?

Hannibal... it’s so spooky and weird

[notoriouslydevious]

Goodbye & Good Luck Riot KateyKhaos

Yesterday Katey posted to her twitter saying that next thursday will be her last day at Riot (so most likely Sept 16th, 2021). 

She was known as the Nami-Mommy throughout most of the community and worked on a BUNCH of skins.  She posted this on her Riot anniversary on June 30th of all the skins she worked on: 

Since it's pretty hard to read from the picture, I'll do my best to list them all: 2014: Reaper Soraka Victorious Morgana Battlecast Kog'maw Captain Volibear Constable Trundle Winter Wonder Orianna 2015: Wild Card Shaco King of Clubs Morde Order of the Lotus Irelia Prehistoric Cho'gath Pool Party Rek'sai Pool Party Draven Captain Fortune Battle Boss Blitzcrank Arcade Riven Project: Yi Project Fiora Championship Kalista Warden Karma Warden Jax Marauder Alistar Marauder Olaf Marauder Ashe Marauder Warwick Demon Vi Slayer Jinx Void Bringer Illaoi Snow Day Syndra Blood Moon Elise Challenger Ahri DJ Sona Firecracker Jinx Sweetheart Annie Debonair Galio Headhunter Akali Urf the Nami-tee Archduke Nasus Definitely Not Udyr Order of the Banana Soraka Guardian of the Sands Rammus Arclight Vayne Risen Fiddlesticks Queen of Diamonds Syndra Ace of Spades Ezreal 2016: Challenger Nidalee Lunar Wraith Morgana Sweetheart Sona Heartseeker Orianna Death Blossom Kha'zix Hextech Ward Mecha Zero Sion Mecha Zero Ward Super Galaxy Kindred Super Galaxy Fizz Freljord Taliyah El Leon Gnar El Macho Mundo Deep Sea Nami Star Guardian Jinx Mechs and Minions Ward Victorious Maokai Elementalist Lux Elementalist Ward 2017: Heartseeker Quinn Love Dove Ward Festival Queen Anivia Dragon Sorceress Zyra Moo Cow alistar Dreadnova Darius Cosmic Blade Master Yi Cosmic Dawn Rakan Pulsefire Caitlyn Pulsefire ward SKT T1 Nami SKT T1 Syndra Pentakill Kayle Star Guardian Ahri Star Guardian Miss Fortune Star Guardian Soraka Beekeeper Signed Arclight Yorick Death Sworn Katarina Death Sworn Viktor Death Sworn Zed Mecha Rengar 2018: Sweetheart Rakan Sweetheart Xayah Lunar Empress Lux Lunar Guardian Warwick Lunar Guardian Nasus Dragon Master Swain Resistance Illaoi Pizza Delivery Sivir Dark Star Cho'gath (I went to HS with Brian, the guy they made this skin for ♥) SSG Ezreal SSG Jarvan SSG Xayah SSG Rakan SSG Gnar SSG Taliyah Pool Party Zoe Pool Party Caitlyn Pool Party Gangplank Mafia Braum (or now "Crime City" Braum) High Noon Thresh High Noon Urgot Divine Sword Irelia Enduring Sword Talon Infernal Amumu Count Kledula Trick or Treat Ekko Program Nami Victorious Orianna Pajama Guardian Soraka Pajama Guardian Miss Fortune Pajama Guardian Ezreal Pajama Guardian Lux Pajama Guardian Lulu Ice King Twitch Frozen Prince Mundo Winter Wonder Soraka Hextech Renekton 2019: Blood Moon Pyke Blood Moon Aatrox & Prestige Blood Moon Sivir Firecracker Vayne & Prestige Firecracker Sejuani Coin Emperor Tahm Kench Heartpiercer Fiora Heartbreaker Vi Papercraft Anivia Papercraft Nunu Arclight Brand Pretty Kitty Rengar Fuzz Fizz Corgi Corki Meowrick Dunkmaster Ivern Hextech Jarvan IG Leblanc IG Camille IG Fiora IG Kai'sa Dark Star Shaco Dark Star Karma Arcade Kai'sa Arcade Caitlyn Battle Boss Yasuo Demacia Vice Garen Demacia Vice Lucian Dragon Oracle Udyr Hextech Rammus Elderwood Ahri Elderwood Nocturne Elderwood Veigar Championship Ryze Valiant Sword Riven Majestice Empress Morgana Splendid Staff Nami High Noon Ashe Witch's Brew Blitz Bewitched Miss Fortune Count Kassadin Dawnbringer Karma Dawnbringer Nidalee Nightbringer Vladimir Nightbringer Lee Sin 2020: Mecha Kingdoms Garen Heartseeker Jinx Heartseeker Yuumi Furyhorn Cosplay Veigar Pajama Guardian Urgot Coven Zyra Coven Leblanc FPX Malphite FPX Vayne FPX Lee Sin FPX Thresh Spirit Blossom Yasuo Spirit Blossom Cassiopeia PsyOps Master Yi PsyOps Ezreal PsyOps Pyke PsyOps Viktor Championship Leblanc K/DA All Out Seraphine Cosmic Destiny Nami Battle Queen Janna Elderwood Xayah Elderwood Rakan 2021: Ruined Karma Ruined Shyvana Ruined Draven Space Groove Lux Space Groove Nasus DWG Jhin DWG Nidalee PROJECT: Sejuani Sentinel Irelia It honestly scares me that not one, not two, but now THREE people in the skins department are leaving back to back (Stellari, Zeronis in October of 2020 and now Katey.. like what the fuck is going on??? At least Steve Zheng is still getting commissioned.. I think). I will certainly miss Katey wherever she flips her fins. 🧜‍♀️♥