#well great we're all bloody inspired

[theredneckerchief]

In which Melrin and the Knights are sitting around the campfire and Sir Percival is in charge of the story telling...

Percival: They call him...Emrys

Lancelot: *glances at Merlin*

Merin: *chokes on his soup*

Arthur: It's alright Merlin no need to be scared, Emrys doesn't actually exist

Percival: The Druids say, he was born from mortals in the time of the great purge, from a dragonlord who saught shelter and from a woman with a heart of gold. A child born from a love that could never be. The tripple goddess took pity on her peoples and gathered the lost magic of the dead felled by the Butcher King -sorry Arthur.

Arthur: *waves his hand for him to continue*

Merlin: *trying to catch Lancelot's eye and get him to change topics*

Lancelot: *looks at Merlin and nods* What happened next Perc?

Merlin: *mouths* traitor

Percival: Well, the babe was born with the lost magic of Albion coursing through his veins. A God in his own right. He can level any kingdom with a thought, create or destroy armies with the snap of his fingers.

Arthur: See Merlin? If he existed, I doubt "The Butcher King's" kingdom would still exist. *satisfied smirk at Merlin's pale face*

Percival: Ah you see Emrys was not born without purpose Arthur. He is the guardian of the Once and Future King. A King destined to usher a golden age of prosperity and unite the land of Albion under a banner of peace.

Gwaine: Sooo how would we know who this Emrys is? What if Arthur is that King?

Arthur: Whilst I appreciate the praise Gwaine, it's a children's story meant to scare people like Merlin. It can't possibly be true.

Percival: Well there is a way to test it... it is said that Emrys will respond to any prayer spoken sincerely by the Once and Future King.

Gwaine: Go on Arthur, try it *winks*

Merlin: I really don't think this is a good idea.

Leon: I agree with Merlin here, summoning a dangerous sorcerer is a bad idea...

Gwaine: We're not summoning him, just pray for something harmless, he can't refuse it right? So why not try? Or are you worried you're not this great King? *wiggles eyebrows*

Arthur: *growls* Fine. *closes eyes* As I sit here now I pray to Emrys to...uh...give Gwaine an apple.

Merlin: *Magics an apple infront of gwaine*

Arthur: *opens eyes* What? Why's everyone looking at me like that? *sees apple*...oh

Leon: Merlin...?

Merlin: *high pitched squeek* yeh?

Percival: I saw it too.

Gwaine: And me.

Arthur: What? What is it? I command you as the King of Camelot to tell me what the bloody hell is going on.

Leon: It's Merlin sire. His eyes... They blazed gold at your prayer...

Arthur: *laughing hysterically* Good one Leon.

*silence*

Arthur: You're serious? Yo- you mean Mer- *turns to Merlin, eyes fixed on his* As I sit here today, I pray to Emrys to sharpen my sword.

Merlin: *Eyes blaze gold*

*Arthur's sword unsheathes itself and starts sharpening itself mid-air*

Merlin: Um...tada? *jazz hands*

Elyan: *comes back from gathering firewood* So what was Percy's story about today?

(Inspired by this tumblr post:

)

[goron-king-darunia]

I wonder if you have a favorite Eg, Egg, and Eggy Eggtoberpost

Honestly, a style study of "Ed, Edd, n Eddy" for Eggtober would be interesting. (I did get your previous ask and am hanging onto it for ideas.) That said, if we're talking Eggtober from this year (2024) exclusively, I'd say anything by user @alkaline-noodles hit it out of the park. Their dedication and extremely photogenic egg dishes were really inspiring this year. There are still several beautifully photographed egg dishes that I want to immortalize in my own style. If it can be any year, user @cubicsoup did this amazing drawing of a raw egg in Eggtober 2022, and I still admire every bit of it! If we're talking overall, then anything by @quezify. As the Egg King and host of the event, Ruben just doesn't miss! Top of all time for me would be the Heart-Shaped Egg for World Egg Day. I just really enjoy how softly it's rendered. For this year only, it would probably be these fried eggs on green. Very classic and you can see that shift in style really exaggerating some of the choices that really make Ruben's style unique: that solid ring around the yolk, the rough pencil texture, and the organic shapes along with a common yellow and lavender contrast in the shading. The collection of some of their best eggs for this year's World Egg Day post are stellar though, and I love them a lot, but I'd never be able to pick just one of the bunch. The few egg on burger ones have been great too.

Some Honorable mentions from this year are users @arithetonberry and their squiggly eggs, @fivevotesdown and this gorgeous soft-boiled egg, @doradeluna's beautifully rendered, smeared over easy fried eggs, @kaehunterart's amazing rainbow-y fried egg in a very shiny pan, @quezify's redraw section from this year, @tiredyeehaw's crocheted egg throw blanket, and all of @nekko-took-egg-photos work this year, but especially this fried egg on noodles. We had lots of amazing participants this year. I wasn't able to finish all the art I wanted to in time this year, but I plan on finishing 31 egg arts this year. I just have a lot going on in real life and the world has been an ass this year. But I am trying to slot in art time when I can! As for favorites of my own, for this year it would have to be the bloody egg. Getting the hang of Krita has been a challenge, but it's nice to know I'm not tied to Clip Studio Paint to render art the way I want to. I think the bloody egg is the first freehand study I did this year on Krita where I've liked the end result and thought the process and result were a good analogue to working with the gouache brush on CSP as I had been doing in previous years. Favorite of all time is still probably Eggtober 11th of 2022. I started Eggtober in 2022 as a low-pressure way to get back into art after years of not being able to find time for it. I figured eggs were simple enough and I liked drawing them, so I might as well give it a go since I was trying to polish up my skills again for personal projects. The ramen piece for Eggtober 11, 2022 was the first piece where I really felt like I hit my stride and was able to put my ideas on paper more or less exactly how I wanted them. All art is a process of experimentation and discovery, but the way the noodles and mushrooms and egg and pork all came together in that piece just... really made me take a step back like "I'm not 100% where I want to be, and have a long way to go, but I finally remember what making art is supposed to feel like. I like this again." And I think my favorite for 2023 has to be the Pavlova. Another time where the process and product all felt smooth, like they came out how I wanted with minimal fuss, maximum learning, maximum flow state. I hope to keep seeing improvement in years to come. Eggtober has just been really great for keeping my artistic self-esteem up. Because even when I can't quite get the result I'm looking for, the community is supportive, and even when I struggle, at the end of the day, there is always egg. And Egg is pretty dang good, I think. 10/10 would recommend the chillest Drawtober challenge. 3 years strong! may this event persist for another 330 years at least!

[writingamongther0ses]

Great Results Means a Ten-Year-Old is Stabbable

I got inspired by @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt 'Great Expectations' and my new WIP. What happens when expectations are fulfilled? Someone takes issue, especially when you're a great hero.

They met when the loading time for the next part declared an hour.

"I don't get it," Myeong said, staring at Principal Hoa's desk like it might've revealed the answer to his thoughts. "If Elpis is thirty back in their original time, then why go back when she's ten? Why make a big production of it?"

Hoa nodded with a hum, tapping his keyboard. Xe looked like xe wasn't paying attention, but Edward knew them better than that. Xe was paying attention and thinking at a speed faster than their own.

"Right now, she has no power beyond her mother's protection and her father..." Tsubasa said. Edward felt his shoulders hitch up at the mention of the man. He hadn't popped up yet, but based on what he had seen, the man was in contact with Amarya. It was a matter of how long he would wait. "She's a girl of color and powerless. Nobody in the police force would've cared much if she suddenly ended up dead." The words were harsh but true.

Edward felt his shoulders hitch up further and he was suddenly twitchy with need. He wanted to leave, to go check on Amarya to make sure she was still coloring and breathing. It was ridiculous how much he cared...but he did.

He did, so much.

Hoa finally pulled their hand away from the keyboard and Edward realized that xe had pulled up the camera feed in the sitting room. Amarya was talking to one of the heroes on guard, smiling brightly and without a care in the world.

The last part ran through his mind, and he winced. That light had dulled in her eyes. Instead, there had just been pain as she stared at her hand, bloody and messy and missing three fingers. The school could fix that, but it didn't erase the fact that in one timeline, it had happened.

Hoa met his eyes and xe nodded.

"I think the production was the point," the principal said, lacing their fingers together and studying them all. "Now, I'm not them, but I have a feeling that our villains don't want to be the ones to assassinate her."

There was a pause.

"...so, you think they're cowards," one of the teachers said. Edward almost didn't hear them. His mind was full of enraged screaming, more of a roar.

He was pretty sure it wasn't just his fury.

"Exactly," Hoa said, their hands clenching tighter together. "Now, I am not in their heads. But I have a feeling we're not deep enough in their little show, since there's so much time between fourteen and thirty, but I have a feeling that our dear girl defeated villains. Villains who might be eager to cut off the source of their defeat now."

Pieces slotted together.

"So," Tsubasa said, her voice tight and tense. "You think they stole some very powerful inventions, traveled back in time, and started showing this in hopes that someone, what, arranges to stab a ten-year-old?"

"To be fair," another teacher said. "Ten-year-olds are kinda easily stabbable."

Edward stood with a screech of his chair.

"Um, where are you-"

"I," Edward said with a pleasantness in his voice that probably didn't match with his expression. "Am going to find Amarya's mother and inform her of this theory."

And if Rosita Mohila wanted to track down and stab the villains that wanted to arrange her daughter's death, well that was between him and her and probably Hoa.

[crowswithize]

Random DP Xover Interactions 1:

Characters: Frostbite and John Constantine inspired by a FranticFanfic round made with @gremlin-bot and @queensilver

London days might bring a shiver to those unfamiliar, far-from-home tourists who wandered themselves to the cobbled streets. John Constantine found himself staring at the shaking tourists with learned disdain before remembering the task at hand.

For even on frequent cold days, there shouldn't be a blizzard during the summer.

He stifles his cigarette on a nearby tree as he approaches a hulking figure in front of him. Most people would have turned and fled upon seeing the massive, white-furred creature standing in front of them, but not John. With reluctance in his step, he approached the hulking figure, ready to do whatever it took to get to the bottom of the bloody mess that lay before him.

"Humans should not smoke," the figure says, a natural gruffness in his voice. Their ice hand, so transparent you could see bone, crackled as it configured into a point.

"And it shouldn't be a winter wonderland in June, now should it?" John snarks back, waving a hand as if introducing the beast to the white blankets.

The yeti softens just a little, for whatever unfathomable reason.

"Now are you the chap that decided 'wouldn't it be a great idea to freeze everybody's tits off'?"

John manifests a fireball for a bit of flare. To add to the insanity, the yeti once again stares fondly. Honestly, what sort of magical creature is this, to listen to threats as if to listen to a baby's coo?

"Not I, dear, wizard," the yeti announces and his very voice chills the air more. "A subject of my zone has crossed into this mortal realm to seek havoc on those who once vilified us."

A part of John froze. The terminology used here has implications, you see. The blueish glow of the yeti and the use of mortals, as if they were not of this realm at all. A once-over, imbued with magical sight, confirms all Constantine feared. Somehow, someway, he's dealing with the ghost of a yeti hailing from the Infinite Realms. Not only that but a leader of a zone too.

"Ah," he replied intellectually. "So one of yours decided to go full Jack Frost on London, huh?"

"That is indeed right, wizard."

"Ain't a wizard, yeti. A detective is what-," the wind cuts him off briefly, another chilling gust accompanied by the roaring sound.

"-I am," he finishes lamely.

The yeti looks over the man's shoulder, eyesight somehow locking onto the noise.

"A detective, then. May I have your name?"

"John Constantine. And you, big fella?" He makes a turn, trying to find where the yeti is looking at. As exhausting as it sounds, he'll most likely have to work with him. Infinite Realm ghosts were tricky business after all.

"Frostbite, Leader of the Realm of the Far Frozen," he says with a great amount of pride.

Within a second, the cigarette John holds lights and he takes a long drag.

"Well, Frosty, I hope you don't mind portals because we're going into that blizzard now." He slashes his lit cig in the air, leaving a trail of red that opens up into a full-sized gateway.

He stares back at the Frostbite and really thinks the beastie's insane. A wide, toothy smile and a burst of boisterous laughter escape him as he gives a hefty pat on John's back. With that, he skids forward through the portal to face the next disaster he has to deal with.

[cynicalraccoon]

Knockout: Terry, look at this hot mama I found today. 🔥😩 

Soap: Whoa! Is that a Great White?!

Soap: Is that real?!

Gaz: Knockout, you having fun without us?

Ghost: Terry? 

Price: That better just be a really clear video on the internet, Knockout. 

Malia checked her phone for Terry's response, only to wince when she saw that she sent the text to the wrong group chat. 

Knockout: Sorry. Sent that to the wrong number.

She deleated the text and video. Then set it to Terry. A moment later, her lips twitched when she heard her phone buzz one after the other. 

Terry: First, Why are you that close?! 

Terry: Second, she's gorgeous! Much better than the monster spider you showed yesterday. 

Rowen: I question your tastes sometimes, Mal. 

Rowen: But she is pretty when viewed from behind a screen. 

Fey: Isn't that what all men say when watching porn?

Rowen: Women say it too when reading about or watching fictional toxic men. 

Terry: Only when they're sexy.

Fey: Amen to fictional sexy men. 

Alan: What's going on? 

Alan: I saw porn and then a prayer to fictional men.

Fey: We're making a cult.

Rowen: No! Don't include me in your fetishes!

Alan: A normal day, huh? 

Malia chuckled at her chaotic friend group, flopping on the bed in her hotel room. She was on leave for a week. It was a small treat to get away from the stress of the military for a bit. Of course, the stress would never go away until she either died or retired. 

Malia: Just showing them a video of a shark i swam with today.

Alan: Aquatic female fatale over here. 

Alan: Safe? 

Malia: Me or the shark?

Malia: Aren't I always?

Alan: Both. 

Terry: Mom and Dad are flirting again~ 

Rowen: 🤢

Fey: *sigh* young love

Malia: 🖕

Malia: fuck off.

The week went by in what semeed like the blink of an eye, and the day for Malia to return to base arrived; to her diasppointment. At least she had some photos to remember the trip. 

Digging the photos out of her duffel bag, Malia hung them up on the wall to join the already quite sizable collection of photos. 

They varied in subjects; animals, locations she had been deployed in, and even photos of a few locals.

When she was settled, the brunette changed into her uniform. She felt the persona of Knockout settle over her like one of the combat gloves she wore on duty. Well, it was an overstatment to call it a persona. More like a mask. A necessary precaution to seperate herself from caring about her teammates more than what was strictly professional. 

Malia shook her head and left, striding to the mess hall. It should be around breakfast now, so 141 should be there. If not, it didn't matter. 

As usual, the mess hall was loud when she entered. 

"Knockout!" She heard Soap's accented voice to her over the chatter. Looking over, she spied him at the table with Ghost, Price, and Gaz. The Scot was beckoning her over with a mischevious smirk on his face. 

She would admit, they were handsome and their personalities weren't too bad. Ghost's voice was a bonus too. But just because of those two and a half things, that didn't mean she would risk her career to spread her legs. She was neither one of those fanfic girls from the stories Terry had happily read to her nor was she a barrack's bunny. 

She worked hard to gain her reptuation on and off the field and have people take her seriously. And it had payed off. Besides, the chaotic and bloody enviornment that inspired trauma, corruption, power trips, betrayal, and assholish behavior wasn't conductive for anything other than a work relationship.

Malia blinked when Soap called her name again. She gave him a curt nod and got her food before walking over to the four. 

"There's that infamous scowl." Soap said, sitting down. "Was beginning to miss it." Malia echoed his action, shooting him said scowl. 

"You have Ghost." She said simply. 

Soap chuckled. "Not the same. I can't see his." 

Ghost, sitting across from Malia, rolled his eyes. With his face hidden behind the mask, the action spoke clearly of his unamusement. Deep brown eyes-just a few shades darker than hers-slid to the woman. 

"Have fun with your sharks?" He asked gruffly. "Or, your "hot mommas"?" 

Malia almost choked on her eggs when she heard his words. Price raised a brow, one side of his mustach slightly raised, while Gaze and Soap snickered like two children. 

She glared at Ghost, noting the faint amusement flashing through his eyes. Damn him. 

"Never say that again." Malia huffed, setting down her apple juice. Even with his voice, hearing him say "hot mommas" was weird. "And I did. Was relaxing. Moving to other topics now." 

"But I want to hear more about your trip." Soap prodded. "Where did you go?" 

"Who's Terry?" Gaz added, wearing a cheeky expression. "Boyfriend?" 

Nope. "Personal." She replied, a bit of bite in her tone. But they were not deterred. They had seven years to get used to her rough personality. Hell, aside from Price and a few others, they didn't even know her real name.

Soap groaned, almost leaning on Ghost. "Come on, Knockout. We barely know anything about you since you came on the team. At least give us this." 

"I'll tell you mine when Ghost tells his." 

Gaz smirked when the Scot frowned. They all knew Ghost was tightlipped about his personal life and past. It was like trying to pull teeth from a bear. 

Price shook his head with a soft chuckle. "There will be a day where you won't have Ghost to hide behind anymore, Knockout." 

Her scowl turned into a smug smirk, saluting him with her cup. "When Hell freezes over completly, Captain." 

A/N: I haven't played Call Of Duty. I only know bits and pieces of information about the characters. Why I decided to write this? Well, I wanted to test an idea I had to branch out of my comfort zone a bit and see if one of my ocs would fit in cod. I got inspired by the many fanfics on here and other platforms that I've read and liked.

[besidesitstoowarm]

"Vincent and the Doctor" thoughts

oh yeah. that hit different

this is the best episode of s5, imo, and one of the best episodes of the show. the museum scene alone at the end makes me cry every time, today was no exception. the plot is just that vincent van gogh saw the world's largest terror bird and then claimed to be pro life and died anyway so we're not getting into details there

i think it's extremely powerful that the creepy monster here was a merciless beast, utterly alone and abandoned, that vincent could see but no one else could. like talk about metaphors for severe mental illness. and then when they realized it wasn't angry, it was blind– it was scared, and he had killed it by mistake in self defense– well, there's this thing my therapist spent a lot of time working with me on, it's called "parts theory". basically every person is a collection of "parts" that all exist for some purpose, and every part is trying to help you, even if that's maladaptive. like, one of my parts we called the "stage manager", basically a panopticon prison guard, the part of me that feels compelled to micromanage everything about myself as if i am constantly on stage, constantly under scrutiny. the part exists in an attempt to control how i come off to other people, so i don't seem "too weird" or "accidentally very rude" or something. it drives a lot of disordered behavior but it's fundamentally protective

and vincent had an accidental, violent response to this scared thing lashing out, blind, alone. it had the capacity for great harm but was not actively malicious. and he could interact with it in a way that no one else could, and it was bloody and messy and painful. it felt so incredibly poignant. like how when the doctor was trying to coax him to go to the church and he was laying in bed crying, alone and afraid and cynical, lashing out. he was ostracized and othered by his mental illness, which made him desperately unhappy, which made him act in erratic ways that were offputting and sure to drive even the well-meaning away, perpetuating the cycle. it's really rich. i went to look up the writer to see if he'd written any other episodes of the show, and he hasn't, but he did write "love actually" so i owe him a debt i can never repay

this is cooking a little bit but i think it's interesting how the sunflowers amy fills the garden with are obviously real, while the sunflowers on the casket they pass on the way to the church look fake as fuck. the flowers in his real life, given to him as inspiration by someone who cares about him, are real and vibrant and complex, while the ones chosen by other people for other people are simple, flat, and look false. idk if they are fake but they look different and to me it's thematically resonant

a few things: i love how the actor playing van gogh is also scottish so he notes that amy has the same accent and asks if she is also from holland. when the doctor was waving his giant stick in the complete wrong direction, my bf said "this is what daemon was doing at harrenhal". i got to see almond blossoms my friend almond blossoms. amy saying she's not the marrying kind, yeowch. the actor crying in the museum fucking SOLDDDDD it he left no crumbs. it's of course devastating to know that they didn't change history and he still killed himself but i really love how they basically leave it at that, that his life was complex and that one miracle great weekend can't cure everything that was wrong with him but that they added to his pile of good things and that's not nothing. have you guys heard the theory that he didn't kill himself, he was shot by one of the boys in the village that bullied him and van gogh lied so the kid didn't get in trouble? i find it really compelling and i think i want it to be true bc it feels kinder somehow

next up we get a fun little bit of filler before shit pops off for real

[libertineangel]

Right, here we go then, in today's "sentences I never thought I'd say" here's a bit of a writeup of the fucking Pistols gig. I'm tired as shit, unsurprisingly, so it may not be the most well-written piece I've ever posted but like it's the fucking Sex Pistols so who needs polish anyway?

Half-hour delay starting due to an unspecified medical emergency at front-of-house, but come 9:30PM they walked onstage and Cookie sat right down to give us the kick drum beat in for Holidays in the Sun, and the moment Steve played that classic cascading guitar riff I got slammed against the barrier with the weight of a few hundred jubilant punks. I stayed there the whole gig really, didn't even need a shower when I got home 'cause I was pinned too hard to mosh about enough to get sweaty.

Frank Carter has such a fucking energy about him as a frontman, his vocals and his posturing clearly draw inspiration from Johnny but only insofar as he perfected the performance of these damn songs and if you wanna do it well you have to do it a bit like him, but it was by no means an impersonation or a tribute. He was so clearly enjoying himself so much too, like yes he was full of punk attitude but none of the contempt Johnny always dripped with, this was sheer earnest passion for it all; the rest of the band were loving it too, this is I think my fifth time seeing Cookie and I have never seen him look so happy, so enthusiastic, they all have such chemistry together and are loving breathing new life into these old songs.

Anyway, after Holidays there was no breathing room before the first chord of Seventeen came crashing down, and god did it sound mighty, and just like 1977 - Steve's guitar tone is just like it always was, absolutely perfect sound, after nearly half a century I find it remarkable how bloody dead on he got his setup. Then came the moment to greet us, and a shout & request for applause for the person who caused the medical delay - "we came here intending to kill it but not like that" as Frank put it - before dedicating the next one to the band themselves, launching into New York and launching into the crowd, getting right deep in and spending at least a solid verse singing standing fully upright held up over the crowd.

Pretty Vacant came next and fucking hell it was Pretty Vacant, y'know? I did my best to remember every detail from the gig but on this one I can only tell you it was fucking fantastic, exactly how it should've been, crowd singing it as much as Frank and Glen very much having fun with it. After tearing the roof off with that one Frank took a moment to talk to us, tell us "punk has always been for people on the outside, who don't fit in and feel excluded, and no one feels that more than the ladies, so can we get some room and open this pit up, this one's just for the girls, it's called Bodies."

Whether his instructions were respected or not I couldn't tell, as mentioned I was pinned solidly in place just right of centre, but I can absolutely tell you he gave a real fucking bite to that song, infinitely more than I saw Billy Idol try last year, some may find it a questionable track these days but oh did it fucking work tonight.

Next up, to my mild surprise, was the ostensibly-Pistols-but-basically-Professionals number Silly Thing, which Frank dedicated to the support act Girlband and also sang himself instead of Steve; it's a great bit of crowdpleasing singalong honestly, you can't really go wrong with it. Liar came next and Frank tore the fucking throat out of it (and, to be honest, out of me), and he did say something or play with the crowd first but we're coming up on five hours since it happened so forgive me for forgetting exactly what he said.

Then, with no pause or build-up, came that iconic guitar blast of God Save The Queen King, which was just as fucking brilliant as you'd expect. Crowdsurfers getting pulled out by security every verse, I counted at least five plus Frank himself at one point, someone's water partially over my head (no booze though - been a while since I've felt that actually, guess no one wants to waste their money throwing drink these days), and oh this song has just as much fire as ever and this country just as little future.

If I recall correctly the next one was dedicated to the band too, or maybe Steve specifically I can't quite remember, but anyway it was Submission and it was a fair move to give us a slower one at this point but it by no means lacked energy because of course it fucking didn't, they still all play like they're fucking 20.

Satellite came next and Frank went full fucking Iggy on us, don't think he sang a single word of it from the stage and indeed I didn't even see him except through the phone of the person next to me, hanging off the outside of the fucking railing of the staff access stairs to the balcony for a bit before diving back into the crowd; his movement over our heads also included such moments as "alright put me down a bit - oi gently" and "you've just fully grabbed my bollocks there, thanks mate", because this is not a perfect art.

After returning to the stage he looked out at us and said "I'm staying on the stage for this one, I jumped off those stairs and I can't top that, I'd have to climb up that balcony and I'd fucking die", but about three seconds into the opening chords of No Feelings he said "no I've changed my mind" and launched himself back into the pit.

Then came No Fun, which was a bit ironic considering everyone - crowd and band alike - were so clearly loving every second of this; this was the number in which Frank introduced the rest of the band by name, "the man, the myth, the legend" Steve then (I believe) "the legendary" Paul and finally "the most stylish man on this stage" Glen, each of them doing their own little solo as is custom, after which Frank said to Glen "that was pretty nice, I liked that." Problems and EMI rounded out the front of the gig, and I know I'm forgetting some shit I'd've liked to mention but y'know they were fucking brilliant and that's what's important.

After a bit of an interval they returned, Glen & Steve sat on the drum riser while Frank asked us if we'd like one more, if we'd like two more, then said alright but he'd do it his way - cue spotlight, cue soft guitar, cue the great punk pisstake that wrecked all our throats a little bit more.

Then, finally, I'm sure you can guess which song has been thus far a notable omission, which song rounded out this fucking storming set. It needs no introduction, the great clarion call of a generation sounding once more with as much fire as it ever did, and I couldn't put into words what it's like to scream that legendary rallying cry before the band themselves. It's the fucking Sex Pistols, and it's Anarchy in the UK. Get pissed, destroy.

There may be no future for us, but this music is fucking timeless.

[underwater-i-will-go]

@new-berry inspired me here. all fiction trippier / pope under the cut.

harsh one to take for sure, losing to the red side of liverpool at home so early into the season, with all the confidence they had, crucial one. two games lost already, 13th on the table. eddie had given them all the instructions they needed, yet it felt like today just wasn't meant to be. kieran was once again one of the last ones on the pitch, applauding to the fans, liverpool supporters shouting abuse and acting as if they'd just won the prem in the away end. "typical from these lot. bastards." nick spoke as he walked past kieran. "let them have it. still early into the season, they won't get much further. but we will." a confidence booster for kieran, nick always looking at the bright side of things.

a little more time had passed and the lads would eventually leave the pitch, walking into the tunnel together. kieran pulled his shirt over his head, his captains band still stuck to his arm, which nick noticed. "you're just being a tease now" kieran looked confused into his direction until nick pointed to his arm "oh. no, you take it off then." nick shook his head. "nah. looks good on you, captain." he said with a wink, suggestive in a way. alexander eventually joined in "heard sven's alright. maybe a knock but nothing too bad." kieran let out a relieving sigh "thank goodness that's great to hear, was proper worried." alexander patted his shoulder as they walked towards the dressing room "you good by the way?" kieran didn't want to upset the others who were already pretty down themselves any more, so he lied straight into alexander's face. "am alright. keeping things positive."

"that's good. it's just two games. we'll come back stronger." kieran gave him a half smile in response, taking the other way as the rest of the team walked into the dressing room. all but nick, who joined him. "you're proper down, aren't you?" he asked looking down to kieran, him once again noticing nick's towering height. "well aren't YOU?" he asked, finally taking the band off his arm in frustration. nick smiled. "i conceded two when i felt confident about us winning already, and that to bloody nuñez. fucks sake, of course i'm not happy about the result." kieran stopped and grabbed nick's arm, dragging the band all the way up to his bicep. "you're our leader now. you deserve it more than me today." that gesture put a smile onto nick's face, but made him feel miserable at the same time, seeing the very clear devastation in kieran's face. he lifted his hand and cupped kieran's cheek, his hand covering half of his face. "i know something that could cheer you up." kieran leaned into nick's hand, resisting the urge to take his thumb into his mouth. "oh yeah, what's it then?"

"i'm gonna show you, actually." nick smiled, dragging kieran along with him until they had reached the trainers room at the end of the corridor. "oh i can guess where this goes from here." kieran said with a smirk on his face, nick pushing the door knob down, hoping for it to be unlocked. the pair was in luck, taking one last look around to make sure no one was around to see them sneaking in. once in, nick shut the door behind them as quietly as possible, hitting the light switch. as soon as the door was shut, nick found himself with kieran's arms wrapped around the much taller man, his lips immediately connected to nick's. kieran's tongue was eager to get into his mouth, his hands travelling up to his neck to pull him down even more. nick pulled away "slow down. i'm the one who wants to make you feel better" kieran's eyes got dark "we don't have much time until the others notice that we're not there, eddie will be furious with his captain not being in room." nick chuckled "oh so you'd rather have him over me then?"

"oh shut up, let's do what we came here to do, eh?" nick didn't hesitate, in a bit of a hurry he pushed kieran's half naked body down an armchair, taking his shirt off, too. for a moment, nick felt so powerful, the much smaller man in such a vulnerable position underneath him, and kieran could read his mind just by looking at the expression on nick's face. nick couldn't get too distracted, not getting hard now although kieran's much innocent and upset expression made him want to take his cock out and have kieran get his hands and mouth on it. but nick wanted to be the one doing well today, besides there was no time for the two of them to get off.

nick kneeled down, taking kieran's face into his hands once more, squishing his cheeks a little, running his hand through his curly, short hair. wished he'd grown it a little longer again, he loved the feeling of it. teasing. "will you stop looking so upset already?" nick asked, kieran now pulling a face on purpose. "make me happy then?" nick wanted to get right to business but couldn't resist tasting kieran's lips once more - salty from the sweat, a little bloody from when he bit on his lip earlier when falling on the pitch. he loved his taste, unique. nick's mouth wandered down to his neck, so hard to resist the urge to leave a mark there, his hands making their way down his body, brushing over his tattooed skin. his inked chest, nick's mouth trailing along it, over his stomach until he had reached his trousers.

nick hooked his fingers into each side and pulled them down, his boxers along with it until they were down to his feet, kieran kicking them off. kieran allowed his body to sink even deeper into the chair, getting comfortable as nick began working his mouth on him. nick was good with his mouth, kieran thought he was a lot gentler than fabian, who was rough. he liked it rough sometimes, liked having his teammates take control. but not today, therefore he was happy it was nick who insisted on making him feel better. he spread his legs further apart, giving nick full access. he started with his tip, giving it just the right amount of attention until kieran was fully hard, which is when nick began working his hand on him.

hand on the base of his cock, he would let his mouth go up and down, not too far down his throat, not wanting to gag. in comparison to the size of his body, kieran's cock was a lot bigger than one would expect, and he didn't want to gag. every once and again, his hand would replace his mouth, slipping in and out of his palm easily, so wet that the sound of it would fill up the whole room. nick would open his mouth and let his spit drop onto kieran, mixing up with precum that was now beginning to leak from his tip, nick immediately bending over again to have a taste. "greedy." kieran remarked under his breath. nick knew that he wouldn't last long anymore, kieran's breath turning heavy, his chest even sweatier than before. he just tried to capture the moment, taking it all in. nick's hands on each side of kieran's thighs, every now and then finding their way up his body, his spit spreading all over his chest, turning cold on his body. the sight of kieran's cock in his mouth, poking his cheek, a single tear running down nick's face as he took him down his throat just a little too far, kieran was so close. his captains band was still around nick's arm, kieran eventually pulling it as he came closer.

they were running out of time, despite having only been away from the others for perhaps 5 minutes, if felt like an eternity. nick stopped suddenly to kiss up kieran's body once more, licking his exposed nipples, a small moan escaping from his mouth that was immediately drowned out by another kiss of nick. he had his hand on him now, jerking his cock until he knew that he was close. "want to come in my mouth? you're in charge now." kieran nodded and grabbed nick by his hair to push his face downwards his body again. nick took him back into his mouth, slowly now. nick had ignored his own cock for too long, pretty sure he'd come into his pants soon. but this wasn't about him - it was all about kieran. he'd just have to get himself off in the bathroom after all this.

kieran was now close, in the heat of the moment he grabbed his hair tighter, forcing nick to take his cock all the way in, rocking his hips into his face until nick could barely breathe, his legs wrapped around his back, when he did manage to somehow pull away, breathless, coughing up a ridiculous amount of spit and precum, all bubbly. "i said into my mouth, not down my throat." kieran smiled "okay. let me get up then." he got up, placing himself in front of nick, beginning to jerk himself off. "open your mouth." nick did as he was told, opening wide. kieran's other hand reached down to the back of his head, down to where nick had his hair shaved short, enjoying the view of the taller man on his knees, so obedient. it only took kieran a few more pumps from his fist until he came all over nick's tongue, breath now as heavy as ever, eyes forced shut, trying to stay as quite as possible. his cum eventually ran out of his mouth and bit of it dripping onto his bare chest, what a lovely view that was to kieran.

when he was all done nick got back up and wiped some of kieran's cum off his mouth and his chest using kieran's shirt, unable to resist one final kiss. "i don't taste so bad, why'd you not just swallow?" kieran asked with a smirk. "you almost choked me, can't just suffocate on your cock. how would we explain that to the others?"

kieran couldn't resist but laugh at that. "we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. next time."

"so ... did i make you feel a little better then?" kieran smiled. "much better."

[readatrix]

"The blood is the life." ~Dracula, by Bram Stoker

"Marion! Marion! Come out wherever you are! The hounds would like to play!" ~House of Hunger, Alexis Henderson

I have loved this sort of book pretty much since I've been able to read. Spooky house or castle. Isolation. A love interest with questionable motives and morals. Fleeing in the middle of the night.

Marion is a poor young woman living in an industrialized urban area, think London in the Victorian era, working as a housemaid. She supports her drug-addicted, dying brother. She sees a notice in the paper for a bloodmaid, and ends of applying in hopes that after her terms of indenture she will obtain financial and personal freedom.

In this world, aristocrats feed of the blood of poor women, and they live on the moors in the north. There's no indication, that I can see, that the blood does them actual good, and it's certainly not great for the people doing the bleeding.

The moors/moors are a staple of gothic literature because they're wild, untamed, and symbolically cruel. In Seanan Mcguire's Wayward Children series -- first book if the series is Every Heart a Doorway -- one of the world they visit and revisit is called The Moors, and it's the embodiment of where vampires and mad scientists reign.

What would you give or gamble to change your life? Would you bleed? How much? Alexis Henderson makes no bones about how this is a form of sex work. Bloodmaids are mistresses, jockying for favor, making the best choices they can with limited options in order to some day be independent.

Marion is indentured to Lisavet Bathory. If you're a fan of vampire stories or creepy history, you might have heard of this character's obvious inspiration, Countess Elizabeth Bathory, a Hungarian noblewoman. What she got up to in her spare time -- both real and rumored -- well, I suppose due to the nature of the homage, would be a bit of a spoiler to share. However, whenever you see a quip about bathing in the blood of virgins to retain your youth, you have those rumors to blame.

Lisavet is beautiful, mysterious, demanding, and the people in her sphere fall under her spell, no one more than Marion, and the other 4 bloodmaids. The story is blood-drenched, and as meat is repeatedly described it's clear that the women in this house are another form of meat served up in a futile effort to sate the insatiable.

It IS the House of Hunger.

Every chapter starts with a quote from bloodmaid.

"We are all alike in the fact that our great life's work is deciding who and what we're willing to bleed for." "We bleed for those we love most." "It's a strange thing to go from hungry ... to the thing hungered for."

I don't want to say much more about the plot, so I'll say the author has given a lot of thought of the role of classism and sexism. Exploitation. Sex work and sex trafficking. There's talk of how important youth is and how vulnerable that makes girls.

"We're broken into submission, by grief and poverty, long before we ever set foot in this House. And then we arrive, on the promise of the first kindness many of us have received in years, and you take advantage of weakness. You cultivate it, to better exploit us."

It's fine to read this as a horror novel, and it works great on that level, but I appreciated the thought and symbolism, which only further engaged me.

The last portion of the book was pretty tense and pretty scary. And extra bloody in a book with no shortage of blood.

I had this at 4 stars, but I'm bumping it up to 5, because it honestly gave me everything I needed in this subgenre, and I bookmarked a million passages.

"Sometimes I feel like I've been building you a House out of my own bones. And still, you look at me with so much contempt and mistrust. You complain because there are gaps in the roof of my ribs, and you ask me to give more of myself to fill them. You want my hips to be the bowl you drink from. My shoulders, your bed. My arms, your walls. My legs, the very ground you stand on. You want your fill of my blood whenever you crave it. What more do you want from me?"

[thetruearchmagos]

The Commonwealth Calls

An Excerpt: The Long Road To Ruin [Part I (?)]

Hey folks, hope you're all well! Was watching some Warno when a sudden moment smacked me with some inspiration, and I put this out in about ten minutes! Will probably continue it, too!

Tagging @lividdreamz @theprissythumbelina @marinesocks @dogmomwrites @sanguine-arena @thatndginger @muddshadow @athenswrites

Lieutenant Charlie Thrush could feel the cool morning breeze nip at her face, faint rays of light casting ponderous shadows across the open country before her. Perched atop her cupola she couldn't rely on the Conqueror's exquisite optics, but the sweeping plain approaching the tree-lined hill she held gave an excellent view upon all comers.

"Anything exciting out there, boss?"

"Hardly, Vish. How's the brew going?"

Private E.R. Vishruth's hand emerged from the bowels of the turret in reply, holding a steel canteen with its cap unscrewed, wispy steam billowing out through the spout.

"Good stuff, managed to stock some Grey Label in 'er before we shipped out."

As Loader, Vishruth had more jobs than feeding the beast its daily lead, and even war couldn't part an Albish trooper from this most sacred ritual. The rest of the platoon was scattered across the ridge, far too few for the stretch, and partaking in their own morning routines, while the crew of Chaste Charlotte took in the sights.

"Oi, pass the rest of it, will ya! You fucks up there can't hear it, but Foster's being a right dick."

The loader gave an exaggerated eye roll at Pei Wang's words, before retreating back into the abyss below. Five weeks ago they'd be at each others throats over something like this, Charlie mused. She didn't much like the thought of getting a new loader after Carl got into that nasty crash while on leave, but it was truely marvelous what spending a month on exercise trapped in a steel clad coffin did to you, to say nothing of a declaration of hostilies.

She stayed up there for a good few more minutes, stirring the canteen in one gloved hand and cradling her head in another. Grey Label, as it went in the battalion, tasted best with a little lubricant, and she could taste the bite of Vish's other acquisition well enough. All in all, it wasn't a great morning, but Charlie wouldn't say no to a few more like it.

Static warbling came through from her helmet's in-built microphone down below, a harsh interruption to the peace of war. Charlie grunted as went down to check the new transmission, seeing from the comm-set's display that it came from Company.

"GLOVE to all units, Fires Warning, Fires Warning. Detecting gun artillery fire from northeast, expect inbound to Hill 613 and surrounding, Clear."

"Ahh, feck it. Vish, pull over the Projectors, we're buttoning up!"

With the engine running at full blast the intercoms were absolutely vital within the armtrack's belly, and Charlie's voice rang tinny through the vehicle. Vish simply turned behind to his console, and looking through the Commander's Scope --- Charlie's only window to the outside world --- she could see the faint blue haze that told her the Conqueror's Protective Field Projector was active. That was something that took getting used to, but in her usual fashion Wang crushed her gunnery trials with the fields on after less than a week with the new armtrack. The gunner turned to give the commander a once over, and a greeting.

"Mornin', ma'am! How's the weather in the real world?"

"Cold, and about to get bloody hot!"

Seconds later the first shells hit home, fired from guns far beyond the edge of the sky. Their tell-tale whistle might've helped the infantry somewhere down the plains, but in the armtracks the only sign of the King of battle's entry came with its impacts. Great plumes of smoke and dust erupted, and though the hit home far and below the hill the sheer shock of tonnes of explosives smashing deep into Bardinian soil shook the very ground through the vehicle's loaded suspension.

"Fuckin' Hell, this is a big one they've got for us!"

Vish seemed to mean that in a brave sort of way, but his right hand, perched firmly against the armoured bulkhead that seperated the turret crew from the ammunition, told the same story his face did. Wang, crouching in her seat, eyes tight to her own sights and gazing into targets unseen, probably felt the same way.

Hell if I don't, Charlie half thought. Training shots in the fild, and five months fighting the Clans out in the Kolleen Wastes, had very little on the Ocrisian's love for big guns and using them.

The shelling lasted for five minutes, though it seemed longer. The final dozen or so weren't even explosives, and soon a thick white smog blanketed the valley below.

Charlie spoke through her headset once more, this time to the whole Platoon.

"Right, guns up. Switch to thermals, and watch your ammo. Happy hunting, First Platoon, you know what we're here."

[ace-of-hugs]

even more incorrect quotes of my ocs because I still love them

Ember: H-how do you ask someone out? 

El: Well, first- 

Iris: Don't ask her, she asked me out in a McDonalds parking lot. 

Ember: ...And you said yes?

*El is casually searching around the room* 

Iris: Hey El, what’re you looking for? 

El: My will to live. 

*Wynter walks into the room* 

El: Oh, there it is.

Wynter: Now, El, all of us are doing this because we care about you, okay? 

Ember: Except for me. I just wanted to see the look on your face.

El: How late were you up last night? 

Ember & Iris, in tandem: Me? 

El: No, not you two. You stay up late all the time. 

El, to Wynter: You.

Ember: What are the hardest things to say? 

El: I was wrong. 

Iris: I need help. 

Wynter: Worcestershire sauce

Ember: You've been given a new job to do, but I'm worried it might make you angry. 

Wynter:  Just say it quick, like ripping off a band-aid. 

Ember: You have to teach El how to drive. 

Wynter: ...put the band-aid back on.

Iris: *lifting weights* 

El: Wow… she’s so intense! 

Wynter: I wonder what drives her. 

Iris, internally: Oh I am going to be SO good at giving hugs.

El: Ooh, somebody has a crush 

Wynter: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on Ember I just think they’re cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about them. 

*Later that night* 

Wynter, very much awake: Uh oh.

*Iris is telling a story* 

El: Wow, Iris, this story has everything! Action! Adventure! Romance! 

Ember: Romance? 

El: I have a crush on her.

El: Is this your plan B? 

Wynter: Technically, this is plan P. 

El: Plan P? Is there a plan M? 

Wynter: Yes, but I marry Ember in plan M. 

Ember: I like plan M.

Iris: I will find us a covered wagon and horses. 

Iris: If you two can manage to not kill each other while I'm gone. 

Ember: Oh, please. We're not children. 

*Iris leaves* 

Ember, casually: ...Eat shit and die. 

El, also casually: Yes, fuck you.

*The gang is about to do something dangerous* 

El: Shouldn’t someone give a pep talk? 

Ember: Go ahead. 

El: Be careful. 

El: Don’t die. 

Iris: *Holds back a laugh* 

Ember: Great. We’re all bloody inspired.

El: The results are in, I’m afraid you have updog… 

Wynter: What’s updog? 

El: Ember! Get in here, I told you I could do it!

Wynter: You know what bothers me? Bats. Why can bats fly? 

Ember: Not again! 

Wynter: No. Seriously, who gave them the right? They're mammals! Mammals walk on land, no exceptions. 

El: Just wait until you hear about whales. 

Wynter: What now?

El: Wynter, if you don't shut up I'm going to throw myself out of the car. 

*click* 

El: DID YOU JUST TURN THE FUCKING CHILDRENS' LOCK ON?!

Iris: What kinds of sounds annoy you? 

El: Are we talking real sounds or imaginary ones? 

Iris, now interested: Lets say imaginary. 

El: Spiders wearing flip flops.

El: My crush isn’t picking up on my hints. 

Wynter: What hints have you given them? 

El: Well, I think about her a lot. 

El: And sometimes I even think about talking to her.

El: Remember that time you dared me to lick a swingset? 

Iris: No, I said "El, don't lick that swingset" and you said "Don't tell me what to do" and licked the swingset.

Iris: Do you have a bobby pin? 

El: Yeah. *searches in their hair* 

El: Oh, no, wait. I’m not a nine-year-old girl.

Wynter: WHY DID YOU KILL HIM?! HE COULD HAVE HAD HOPES AND DREAMS, HE COULD HAVE HAD A FAMILY!!! 

Ember: Wynter- 

Ember: It- it was just an ant-

Ember: We’re fucked.

Wynter: Hey, no. I don’t want to hear that defeatist attitude. I wanna hear you upbeat!

Ember: We’re fucked!

El: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

Iris: Fruits that do not live up to their names; passionfruit, grapefruit, honeydew and dragonfruit. 

Iris: Fruits that do live up to their names? 

Iris: Orange.

Iris: I would never say that my girlfriend is a bitch and I don’t don’t like her. That’s not true… My girlfriend is a bitch and I like her so much!

El: Being gay isn't a choice. It's a game and I'm winning.

Iris: Where are you going? 

El: Hell, eventually.

[saygeadvice]

Okay, first: if you've not read the original referenced post, you will really want to before pouring into this thread. It's long, but oh so worth it.

Okay, now that that's taken care of and we're all caught up, I think my brain is slooping out of my ears, dripping down my shoulders onto my chair, ending in a greyish, clumpy puddle on the floor.

The legends Neil Gaiman and Sir Terry Pratchett would absolutely do this. They are (and were, R.I.P) this forward-thinking, long game playing trolls of the highest order, as anyone who has read their other works can attest to.

As Neil and the crew swaddle and hold this dearest story as a testament to the late, great TP, it's pretty clear that they will permit nothing but perfection. This story hitting television screens was something of a last wish of Terry's, right before he died.

So Neil really has no choice, does he? Perfection or nothing. A last gift for his late friend, who would never get to see his decades-old wish fully realized.

Considering these points, it would come as a surprise to exactly no one that this show is laden with clever Easter eggs (including nods to Pratchett's other works, as well as NG's, among loads of others), and little seeds of story that one might notice on the third or fourth watch, or not at all.

Like perfectly placed motes of dust in the air that have no context on the first watch, because the context comes much later. Episodes later, or even series later. They appear to just happen to be there, just dust. Subtle, clever little things that don't detract from the story, that are just as happy to go unnoticed, thank you very much.

Until the crazies, the devoted, the rabid fanbase (all of that's us, hi! *waves*) pour through every word, every scene, every page of the book, every letter of the script book, scenes left tragically unfilmed, like he knew we would, and piece together this massive jigsaw.

The eureka

"oh!"

that the perceptive get walloped with on the nth rewatch, then share to the starving masses on the internet (also us! *waves*).

The idea that all of these red threads upon the corkboard of this fandom weave together so flawlessly, effortlessly, perfectly, can't be accidental.

They're too professional, too protective of this precious brainchild, for it to be anything but intentional.

***

They have been communicating in code for six thousand bloody years. Their very existences have depended on secrecy ("they'll destroy you") the saying-without-saying, the covertness of it all (my lot don't leave rude notes).

They know each other.

Think about how flawlessly well each played the part of the other to their respective offices. They know each other so very well that no one had any idea. Not a single angel in Heaven, nor any demon in Hell considered the possibility that they were looking at someone else.

They've been going to the theatre together ever since theatres existed. They inspired bloody Shakespeare. Aziraphale knew Shakespeare on sight.

Crowley bemoaned it being one of the gloomy ones because they've been to gloomy ones together before.

They both know theatre. They both know where the phrase "no nightingales" originally came from. It came from Shakespeare, it came from Romeo and Juliet - one of the gloomy ones.

Remember, G-d told us that no one heard that nightingale sing at Berkeley Square- the angel and the demon were inside the Ritz. It wouldn't make sense that Crowley would be referencing that particular nightingale.

Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner, and today I have something surprisingly not kiss-related—though it is still about the final fifteen because hey, gotta keep the brand image.

I read this post by @goodoldfashionednightingale and began typing a small response. Then I made the mistake of drinking half a litre of coffee on an empty stomach right after taking my adhd meds and my brain began vibrating at the speed of light.

But oh, have I discovered parallels. This, my friends, is about the nightingale, where it comes from, what it means, and what the fuck happened in part 3 of 1941.

Ready? Let's go.

Now, as OP said in her post, s1e3 is important. In the script book, Neil himself says that these flashbacks are where the producers would tell him to cut scenes to save money. They suggested every single one—except for the one he ended up taking out, which was the bookshop opening scene set in 1800. The others are building blocks, you need them to see how their relationship progressed and what kind of important milestones they had.

(side note: author is very miffed that english does not have a separate subjunctive form like german which makes quoting lines way more confusing than it has to be)

The one I want to mention is neither 1941 nor 1967. No, what I want to talk about is 1601. This might be about to get a bit rambly but I will do my best to keep it tidy.

The focus of that flashback is on the Arrangement, yes, but it gives us a lot more information than that.

they both see Shakespeare's plays regularly, maybe even meet in the crowd

Crowley prefers the comedies

Aziraphale does not seem to have a preference, he enjoys the tragedies and presumably the comedies too

there is an oyster woman selling food -> reference to their meeting in Rome when Aziraphale tempted him to try some oysters

Aziraphale reflexively denies their relationship

Crowley might say he is not worried but circles Aziraphale the entire time, keeping watch

they both ask favours of each other and both agree to do them

What stands out to me in relation to what I am about to expand on is the line that Crowley delivers after Aziraphale's little 'buck up'—which Crowley finds adorable btw but that's a post for another time.

"Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety."

Why would he say that? What exactly is prompting this? WHY say that specific line?

At first I thought it might be to tempt Shakespeare because he does commit art theft by just copying that line down, BUT I think there is more to that. So much more, in fact. I am wiggling now because I am very excited about this and my adhd meds are kicking in anyway.

First things first: the line itself.

It appears in Shakespeare's play Antony and Cleopatra, a romantic tragedy, which was first performed in 1607 aka six years after this meeting. Enobarbus is talking about Cleopatra and describing why Antony won't leave her. Her.

Ccrowley uses his—again, who is he even talking about? Hamlet? Shakespeare? Random poetic quote?

No, I think this line is about Aziraphale and it's a code. Right after, the next line from Aziraphale is "What do you want?", meaning that this is their code phrase for 'I have a favour to ask of you'.

Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety

Age will not affect his appearance nor will he ever become boring to Antony. Crowley, who later chooses the name Anthony for himself, tells Aziraphale, an immortal, that he will never age and that he will never grow bored of him.

It's flattery, pure and simple, and it's code at the same time. This establishes the important fact that they might use more of Shakespeare's work as code/already have a system in place (even though he steals Crowley's line for later).

They play their little morality game of back and forth, Aziraphale agrees, Crowley probably manipulates the coin toss, and THEN we find out that the oyster woman is called Juliet.

Why? What is the meaning of that? Why give her a name and that name in particular? Why bring the sexy oysters back into it?

Romeo and Juliet premiered in 1597, so it is safe to assume they have both seen it by 1601, but this is mostly for the audience, not for us-or is it?

Aziraphale gives Crowley puppy eyes until he agrees to make Hamlet popular, and while I don't think Juliet itself is a code word, although it's very interesting that the OYSTER woman is the one with that name (especially adding what we now know about Job), Romeo and Juliet might be.

Yes, the Nightingale song came out in 1940 but the bird has been around for much, much longer, and, as many probably know by now, also shows up in Romeo and Juliet.

This is where I am starting to vibrate at the speed of light because listen to me. Listen.

Crowley is Juliet. Anthony J. Crowley. Antony Juliet Crowley.

(side note: I'm not saying that Crowley chose it based on that—though I am not not saying that—but that it is a clue for us at the audience.)

Why do I think that? In the play, Romeo spends the night with Juliet and then goes to leave as the night begins to end. Juliet tries to stop him and tells him that the birds they are hearing aren't larks, which sing at dawn, but nightingales, which sing at night.

Who is the one always pushing for more? Crowley. He is the one trying to convince Aziraphale it's safe, they're safe to spend time together.

Romeo disagrees with Juliet and says 'I must be gone and live, or stay and die'.

Leave and stay alive, or stay and hell/heaven will punish us. It gets even better though.

We all know how Romeo and Juliet ends: Romeo thinks Juliet is dead, kills himself, Juliet finds him and then kills herself too.

Hey, do you know how Antony and Cleopatra ends?

Antony thinks Cleopatra is dead, kills himself and dies in her arms, then Cleopatra also kills herself—by snake poison; Romeo also died by poison.

The parallels are THERE. They are jumping down our throats! Two tragedies, two sides, several familiar names and phrases, same fear, same ending.

I think by now you can guess how this ties back to 1941.

We do not see how that night ends, but we know it ends. One of them wants to stretch it out, maybe even quotes Romeo and Juliet because look at the setting!

Candlelight, wonderful night they spend together, the threat of Crowley's early demise, and, to quote the play once more, this time Romeo: I have more care to stay than will to go.

Crowley thought it was his last night on earth and went with Aziraphale to his bookshop, to be with him, because he cares more about that than the fact that he will be dragged to hell come morning. Do you remember?

"Expect a legion to come for you first thing tomorrow" THAT is the threat. They have until dawn, just like Romeo and Juliet, which is why she is so desperate for the birds to be nightingales. Fortunately for them, Aziraphale saves the day, BUT there is NO SECURITY. They do not KNOW if a legion will still show up or not. If dawn is a deadline and they will need to fight.

Sure, they improved their chances, but who knows? Maybe they will come for him anyway, it's not like hell is all fair and square.

The best part: it gets even better.

Juliet eventually panics and tells him to go, and Romeo drops a line that huh, sounds oddly familiar, doesn't it?

'More light and light, more dark and dark our woes!'

Remind me, what does Aziraphale say again? Ah, yes. Perhaps there is something to be said for shades of grey.

There is more. Yes, even more. We know the whole rescue relies on a magic trick, a switch. Guess what Juliet yearns for while telling Romeo to go save himself?

Oh, now I would they had changed voices too. While they did not for Romeo and Juliet—they kiss and part—they did for our two. One fabulous switch and we're good.

(side note: Toads? Associated with hell. Larks? Associated with the dawn, yes, but also heaven since Romeo says 'Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat the vaulty heaven so high above our heads.')

So, this was a whole lot of information, let's see if I can summarize my thoughts.

I believe the nightingale is a code word that has existed even before 1941 and gained a lot of importance over the years. In 1941, the song is added to the meaning and whatever happened between the two that we have not seen yet, it fundamentally changed their relationship. Maybe they kissed, maybe one of them tried to convince the other to prolong the night but they parted on not-great terms.

The nightingale and the song become a symbol of hope, a goal to achieve, another uninterrupted night, maybe, or an uninterrupted life.

When they part in the final fifteen, it's morning. Crowley points at the sky and says "no nightingales", which at that point has several different layers to it.

No nightingales because their night is over, just like with Romeo and Juliet, and please, please allow me to add another detail, because I am frothing at the mouth over this. The scene I quoted, known as balcony scene, do you know what it is preceded by?

A ball.

Star-crossed lovers defying their sides, falling in love at a ball, getting a hurried, wonderful night together but torn apart by danger of punishment, the nightingale as a dream, as a wish for unhurried time together. Family rejection, torn apart by parents, willing to die for each other so they can reunite in death.

No nightingales. The ball, the romance, is over, their dancing is over, heaven is tearing them apart, and Aziraphale returns to heaven while they are both stuck in a pit of misunderstanding and miscommunication, all bound together by fear for each other.

The thing is, Crowley hates tragedies, he never liked the "gloomy ones", and he does not want them to end in one—luckily, this isn't the end. Yes, they kiss and part, but the play keeps going. We have an entire act 3 to fix what Romeo and Juliet couldn't, to ensure that this is a COMEDY, not a tragedy.

Both Antony & Cleopatra and Romeo & Juliet died out of fear, hurried into making bad decisions because they knew what would happen if their sides were to catch up with them.

Crowley and Aziraphale can reunite heaven and hell with love, not death. This is THEIR story and they are writing the ending. No more day and night, no more deadlines, no more hiding and sneaking about, no more fear of larks and sunshine.

Good Omens will end the way it began: In a garden with two no-longer-star-crossed lovers embracing the song of a lark as well as that of the nightingale.

I hope this made sense to everyone who was no present while my mind started to vibrate itself into a puddle because the thing is I can see Neil doing all of this completely on purpose.

Thoughts? Questions? Additions? Come and join me in my insanity and until next time I have a mental breakdown over this show (probably in like two hours).

[siderealscribblings]

Devil Summoner Akechi Goro vs the Phantom Thieves

Canto II: Conning Chaos

Oracle’s Nest - The Thieves Den Mementos, the Metaverse

"How...did we screw up...this badly?!"

For all of Oracle's considerable genius, even she struggled to figure out how they had screwed the Inugami to such astronomical proportions.  "L-L-Let me see if I can piece this together. We spent floods of magatsuhi-” 

“Yes...” Joker sighed. 

“Hacked into every TV station in Japan-” 

“Yes...” Queen said, rubbing her arm sheepishly

“Took over the airwaves twice to brag about how cool and sexy and powerful we are just to draw S.E.E.S.' attention to a guy who isn't even dead like we said he was?!” Oracle concluded, running a hand through her hair. "Oh, wait, Madarame is also��part of the Wax Museum of Dead Perverts, so he's probably escaping the city as we speak with the help of his evil masters. Did I miss anything?!"

"Well…w-we're still cool and sexy and...and powerful," Panther muttered, tail dejectedly drooping on the floor. 

"Aaaaand the magatsuhi farm is starting to pick up the pace!" Skull added. "So...not all bad?" 

"And I found this cup that we need!" Noir supplied, holding the violet-shaped cup up in the air like it was the key to solving all their problems. 

"...dare I ask why?" Fox asked. 

"Oh...I don't know!" Noir said confidently, squinting at the cup as she turned it over in her hands. "Yet. I just get a funny feeling that we're going to need it at some point, so I guess we'll find out." 

“And I get a funny feeling that we are going to lose all credibility as demonic masterminds when we tell Yoshizawa that she has to check our work! ” Oracle said. "The second we tell her about Kamoshida's dead mud-doll-" 

"You have to stop calling them that," Joker sighed. 

"-she is going to know that we're not the princes of hell that we said we were!" Oracle hissed. 

"Hey, we curbstomped Baal," Skull pouted. "If that don't make us princes of hell, I don't know what will." 

“Is telling her the best strategy?” Queen asked, picking at a thread on her purloined shorts as she leaned against Oracle’s desk. “We’re lying to her about a hundred things already; what’s one more?”

“Normally I’d agree, but someone needs to check that body,” Joker said, hands kneading the back of Oracle’s chair anxiously. “And they need to know that Madarame may be ready to disappear after faking his own suicide like Kamoshida may have; the last thing we need is to lose track of them.” 

“Great; again, how would you like to start that conversation?” Oracle said, spinning her chair around and looking at her partners for inspiration. “Preferably in a way that doesn’t get us laughed out of Japan for counting our rapists before they hanged.” 

“Can weeeeeeee…uhhhh…send another card?” Skull suggested after racking his brain for a few moments. “Dear S.E.E.S., I’m still alive, hahahahaha, love Kamoshida.” 

“Given their habit of intercepting our mail, I’m not sure it would reach the right people in time,” Joker sighed, running a hand through his messy black curls. 

"We could…try and contact Goro directly?" Fox suggested. 

"Oh, hi detective, I know you think I'm trying to kill you, but you really need to trust me when I say that-owowow, why are you killing me?!" Joker sighed. "What else?” 

“Break into the morgue and check ourselves?” Panther suggested. “Or just blow open the morgue and make them look at the bodies more carefully?”

"Blow open a morgue?" Queen echoed. 

"What?" Panther huffed. "They're all dead in there anyway!" 

"Do you want the bloody JSDF coming after us as well?!" Fox said. 

"Like the JSDF can even hang with us at this point," Skull huffed, predictably backing his oldest partner in crime, no matter how dumb Panther's idea was. "What are you worried about; we're basically gods!" 

“Aren’t they planning on cutting Kamoshida open already?” Noir asked, cutting in before the bickering could get out of hand. “Wouldn’t they immediately know something was fishy when they found mud instead of fleshy stuff?” 

“Autopsies for suicides are rare,” Queen said, chewing on her thumbnail. “According to the authorities upstairs, Kamoshida took his own life because of guilt; only S.E.E.S. understands the connection he had to the Metaverse.” 

“Which is why we need someone from S.E.E.S. to take a look,” Joker said. “And unless Goro suddenly feels cooperative -” 

He paused for a chorus of derisive snorts. 

“-we are going to have to make contact with our newest little mole and get her to check on Kamoshida for us,” Joker concluded. “So…how do you convince someone with absolutely no reason to trust us to…well, trust us.” 

“If we could do that, we would be on Step 30 of our master plan instead of Step 3,” Queen said, chewing the corner of her lip. “We could always…compel her.” 

The room fell silent, each thief trading uneasy glances with each other before glancing at Panther. 

“We could,” Panther said, lips pressed together and looking to Joker for orders. “That doesn’t exactly make us trustworthy, though.” 

“And you don’t want to do that,” Joker said. 

“I haven’t wanted to do a lot of things we’ve had to do to survive,” Panther chuckled bitterly. “And I still don’t want to start charming people but…I’d do it if you asked.” 

Joker was aware of the weight Panther left in his hands; she would, even if it would cut up what remained of her soul to do so. All of them had compromised themselves in small ways, but there were still lines to cross; still atrocities to regret in the name of survival. 

“Let’s...let's not use the nuclear option just yet,” Joker said. “We can try convincing her first. How hard would it be to get Yoshizawa on the line?” 

“Psst!” A small window appeared in the corner of one of Oracle’s monitors with Yoshizawa’s face pressed up against the camera of her laptop. “Pick up, it’s Yoshizawa!” 

"Well…shit , that was easy,” Skull said.

Read More...

Start from the Beginning

[lulupen2023]

Muse/Thor/Avengers crossover BellDom&Thoki Chapter IB/?

Summary: What happens when the ' Knights of Cydonia ' meet the gods of Asgard? Let the delirium begin!

Summary of the chapter: The fun, as well as Loki's stressful days, starts...

Chapter I B: (Un)Natural selection

“What were we saying? Oh, right. I need your band, in five days... and I do not really see anything here.” Loki murmured, opening the agenda at the designed page. He hovered the open palm of his hand over it, erasing all traces of what was written before.

“You're right. No commitment. They are free. They will come to you.” Tom asserted, like an automaton.

“Very well. And you are going to take them to me, I'll tell you the time and the place in due time.” Loki smirked, walking towards the exit door.

“So, do you have a private jet?”  Tom asked curios.

“Oh, no. Much, much better!” The God of Chaos grinned, before leaving the room and the building.

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

“I still can’t understand, Tom, what the hell happened to the charity event?” Dominic asked his friend while they were in the taxi, on the fateful date.

“There was no charity event!” Tom asserted with a bitter tone.

“But why not? We’ve talked about it for weeks, it’s the one where we are supposed to collect the funds for...” Chris insisted.

“I’m telling you there has never been any scheduled night like this, and even if there was forget it!” The photographer insisted.

Dom and Chris gestured to each other that their friend must have probably had a fever and was talking nonsense.

“And where are we going, then?” Matthew asked him, interested.

“I can’t share this precious info with you, but we're almost there!” Tom replied mysteriously.

“Tom, we're going to a concert, it’s not a bloody treasure hunt!”  The frontman protested.

“Please, dude, you can stop the car here and let us go.” Tom gave the necessary instructions to the taxi driver, blatantly ignoring Matt.

“Here? In the middle of nowhere?” Dom complained, exiting the car with the others, before the taxi left.

“Tom! Where exactly are we supposed to bloody perform? There’s not any stage, not even a stadium... or a tent!” Chris muttered, growing nervous.

As a matter of fact, they were in the most deserted and desolate wasteland that London had to offer them.

“You aren’t going to perform here, of course; but this is the place where he will come to pick us up.” Tom beamed.

“He?  Who?” Matt scratched his head, understanding less and less about what was going on.

“I must recognize that you're punctual, Midgardian!” A resounding voice exclaimed.

“Who said that?” Dom asked nervously, not realising why Tom was smiling like an idiot, while he seemed to wait for something or someone, confident.

In his entire golden splendor, Loki made his entrance with large and determined steps, which were making his long cloak wave elegantly.

“I did!” The beautiful God replied austere and bald.

“Wait a moment... but I know who he is ... he’s that guy from the movie that came out a few months ago... the one with Captain America!” Chris began, pointing at the God.

Loki glared at Chris so icily that the bassist started to fear for his own life.

“I’ve killed for much less, you know?” The Asgardian hissed. “You're lucky, because I need you for my purposes.”

“Tom, but what the hell is happ--” Dom asked for an explanation, but was silenced abruptly.

“Kneel!” Loki thundered.

Seeing Tom obey to him so instantly, even Chris, Matt and Dom did the same, believing that it was a joke of the Media manager’s.

While Loki basked pleased with the tacit adoration towards him, Matthew was struck by a sudden lightning bolt of inspiration.

“Hey, guys, I should sing more often kneeling down! On 'Follow me' for example, it would be something of great effect!” He stated, convinced, already daydreaming about his future performances on all the stages around the world.

“Oh yes, Matteh, I do love when you kneel, but not in front of a crowd, just in front of me!” Dominic winked seductively at him.

“But... what?” Loki muttered, watching them, disappointed.

“Shut up, you two! Be quiet and show respect to the God who can do everything!” Tom rebuked his friends severely, then he resumed smiling ecstatically at Loki.

“Could someone tell me what’s going on? Why are we here? Where are we and why is this guy here? It's the set of a movie, isn’t it?” Chris wondered, puzzled.

“Oh no, did you think that we are shooting some scenes? Are we acting now? If it is one of Kate’s stupid ideas, I swear that...” Matt muttered, very annoyed.

“That's enough, get up, everyone!” Loki urged them and the four obeyed. “Stop it! All this is not a movie, it is not fiction, there are no scenic effects, there are no jokes. It’s the purest reality ever!” He explained, creating a dozen clones who surrounded them.

Dismayed and terrified, the three musicians had no other choice but to believe what they were seeing.

“Bravo! Bravo!” Tom applauded enthusiastically. “Magnificent, a performance of great effect!”

“Yes, yes, I know. Okay, that’s enough!” Loki made a quick gesture with his hand and his clones vanished in the air.

“The point is that magic exists, Asgard exists, I, Loki, who have been their King, wrongfully ousted, exist and I need you and your services!” He declared.

“And what do you want from us?” Dom ventured to ask him.

“Do you think he want you to repaint his house? Come on, Dom, use your brain! What could he ever ask you for? A concert, of course!” Tom answered for him.

“Well, back in my old days, I used to be a decent house painter...” Matt pointed out.

“Silence! All of you!” Loki snapped, brandishing his scepter. “Now that the explanations were made, you just need to follow me in Asgard and if you still have some doubts, then I assure you you’ll believe in everything."

“And, tell me, how do you plan to take us there?” Chris asked him, once he recovered from the initial shock.

“It 's time to find out if the Tesseract is also suitable for group travel, since so far it delivered a maximum of two people.”  The god of Mischief said, preferring not to specify who these two people were.

“And what if it’s not suitable at all?” Chris continued his interrogation.

“Be ready for the consequences, then .” Loki smiled maliciously.

“Be ready my ass! I don’t want to end up splinched, like Ron when Hermione got the spell of dematerialization horribly wrong!” Chris protested, growing extremely anxious.

“Dema.. what? And who is Hermione, who is Ron?  What kingdom do they come from? What are you talking about?” Loki grew impatient. He could no longer understand what he was babbling about.

“I'll explain later if you want. And I’ll give you all the Harry Potter books if you need them!” Matthew offered.

 “I can give you the DVDs, if you prefer, there is also the director's commentary,” Dominic added

“You know... with six children, by now I know those books by heart. By the way soon I'll read them to my Teddi, too.” Chris muttered, looking tenderly, as he did every time he spoke of his children.

“You have six children? All yours? I did not know Midgardians were a species so prolific.” Loki's eyes widened in surprise.

“He compensates for the shortcomings of the remaining 99% of the population!” Dom chuckled as he stared at Loki more carefully.

“Honestly...” Chris muttered, but neither the blond nor the God paid attention to him anymore.

 “Hey, Loki, would you let  me try that helmet?” The drummer asked, nonchalantly.

“I beg your pardon?” The God of the Lies gasped.

“It would match perfectly with my pants.” Dominic promptly justified his request.

“Do you have golden pants? When did you get them? Why didn’t you say anything to me? I want to see them!” Matt interjected, approaching to his beloved.

“I haven’t any golden pants! I meant the yellow skinnies, you know, don’t you? They would fit so well.” his partner clarified.

“Umpf, yes, but you should also buy a golden pair. Do you remember? I have a silver, glittery pair. We could wear them on the same night.” the singer urged his best friend.

“Excuse me, but I have not given any permission. No one can wear my helmet!” Loki growled, possessive, arranging it better on his head.

“Just keep it, I don’t care!” Dominic shrugged, shaking his hand with annoyed attitude. “But now Matt has made me want to buy some golden pants.”

“Yes, come on, let’s go! Maybe we can find a store that’s still open…” Matt started to drag Dom away.

“Stop!” Loki roared, hitting them with a slight electric shock of energy from his scepter, which mostly served as a warning, before they went too far from him.

Needless to say, it captured the whole interest of a certain frontman with megalomaniac ideas.

“Tom, what do you think? Can we use it as a stage effect, too? Can I sing with a scepter in my hand, too? Or rather, with a microphone scepter-shaped!” The pianist eagerly asked him, walking close to the other two friends.

“If my Master agrees…” Tom replied mechanically.

Matthew let out a chuckle.

“I am your master now? Damn, Kirky, when did you turn so accommodating?”  he scoffed, before realizing that Tom was not even looking at him. Instead, he was facing Loki, waiting for his instructions.

Meanwhile Loki was appealing to his self-control, so as not to go berserk.

- Damn me and my stupid surprise parties for the insolent slob! I should have chosen to go straight to the prisons and end my days there! -  he pondered, before taking a deep breath.

“All right, let's start. You,” he said to Chris, “I do not know who this Honey Pitter is and I do not want to know.”

“Harry Potter!” The bassist promptly corrected him.

“Be careful.” Loki aimed the scepter at him, threateningly, which made Chris shut up immediately.

“You two,” he turned to Matt and Dom. “No, blondie, you cannot wear golden, you know, it doesn’t make everyone look good... and no, weird guy with hair that defies the laws of gravity, I do not want you to go around with a scepter similar to mine!”

“If this is my God’s will, there will be no visual effect and no microphone involving a scepter.” Tom established impassively, with evident disappointment from Matt, who snorted like a spoiled kid who is not allowed to buy his favorite toy.

“But mostly, I would be grateful if from now on you two restrained yourselves to talk as little as possible.” Loki resumed the discourse. “I have had a magic gag, it doesn’t take me much to put one on your mouths, too, and I assure you that it is not nice at all!” He threatened them.

Miraculously, this seemed to make even the two lovers keep silent.

“You're fast becoming my idol!” Chris smiled.

“Don’t you dare Chris, no one can worship the Master more than me!” Tom growled, jealous.

“Returning to the issue of transport, nope, you risk nothing. If the Tesseract does not work collectively, simply you will not move from here and I will teleport one by one, with more trips. Simply this.” the God of Chaos explained.

“That's much better.” Chris nodded in satisfaction.

Since he ordered them to, nor Matt neither Dom dared to open their mouth.

“And me, sir? Is there anything I can do not to bring any harm to you?” Tom lavished.

“Oh, right.” Loki muttered, taking his scepter and placing its end back to his heart, “I do not need you  anymore.” He added, freeing him from his spell.

It took some time for the poor Tom to recover. And to be pissed off.

“Hey, you! Among many minds, why did you decide to play just with mine? Do you have the slightest idea of the genius which you have threatened to deprive the whole humanity of? Tony Stark can suck my cock, I invented PhotoBlab!” the Media manager ranted, indignantly.

“Hmm… I had read that even my second choice, Coldplay, were available, maybe I still have time to...” the God of Mischief mused aloud.

“Oh no, cutie, I heard you. It’s too late! It’s us who you have chosen and it’s us who you will carry to your kingdom!” Matthew retorted, now that he was starting to get a taste for the absurd situation in which they had found themselves.

Loki nodded, ready to unleash the powers of his Tesseract, but at the same time he already felt a vague sense of regret for his decision.

- If this continues, I will become the god of a Nervous Breakdown! -

TBC

It' s a big mess, right?

And I assure you that the situation will degenerate even further XD

Appointment to Asgard, for those who want to be there ^ ^

[ironemrys]

The Last Stand

Pairing: OC x Peter Parker (kinda), Mild Tony x Stephen (probably)

Word Count: 6.3k (wow can you believe? I haven’t written sh*t for three years and still this number appeared)

Tags: (do I have to do tags? okay) #OC x Peter Parker, #sort of, #Peter Parker, #Tony Stark, #Stephen Strange, #their surnames are not mentioned since this is like old school medieval long long ago and shit, #loosely based on Merlin, #and some others like Lord of the Rings, #if you’re into that, #I don’t know what else to tag, #how do these tags even work, #I was inspired, #Merlin-ish AU, #Alternate Universe

A/N: okay, obviously, this will be the first time ever that I’m going to post a fic here. And honestly, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, I don’t even know what even this story is about. I just got a lot of ideas and they poured out all at the same time so here it is. It’s not the best but eh, worth a shot.

Long ago, there were eight kingdoms that made up the earth. There was a kingdom for man, for beasts, for the holy saints and for those who lie in between. The Southern Kingdom; Haradren – home of the holy saints – came from a long lineage of elves. They were the most peaceful yet powerful of all the kingdoms for their people were blessed with the gift of magic.

But not all of them were peaceful.

Aeron; a wise but greedy Elven Sorcerer saw darker power in their gifts of magic. He began experimenting with means forbidden by their law and when confronted, Aeron and his followers; the Unholui, retaliated and waged a war among their brethren. The war between good elves and bad elves lasted for many years. In the midst of the war Aeron discovered that the magic the holy saints have can be harnessed and transformed into a darker form of magic and vice versa. With this knowledge, the population of the holy saints began to diminish as Aeron and the Unholui stripped the saints of their power and claimed it as their own.

Seeing how their kind was slowly dying and falling into the hands of the Unholui, the saints turned to the other kingdoms to help fight their losing battle. But it was futile. The power of the Unholui had grown and the eight kingdoms were reduced to four.

King Anthony of the Northern Kingdom of men prayed to many gods for help and by miracle and conviction, his prayers were answered. The gods of old sent a messenger to the king in a dream and advised him to create a weapon. This weapon would be able to bring down Aeron and the Unholui and would bring peace back into the lands.

The king immediately set to work once he woke up and followed what the gods had told him. Time passed and the weapon was complete. The king then wore it to battle and when he struck down on the ground the Unholui were powerless against it. The Great War ended with Aeron defeated and the Unholui scattered. Some say they deteriorated once Aeron fell and others say they’re in hiding, too weak to carry on without their master.

The Four Kingdoms were now back on their feet and at peace.

But how long will that peace last?

Fifteen years later…

“Father?” A young girl walked inside a small hut. Setting her basket of vegetables on the dining table, she made her way to the fireplace and kneeled in front of the hearth to ignite a flame and start cooking for supper.

“Im nall-bo I lach” she muttered and her usually dark colored eyes turned a bright shade of crimson. Flames appeared on the firewood as a small smile slowly formed on the girl’s face.

“Kenna.” A sharp voice caught her attention and she turned around to face her father. He looked worn out, of course he was; he was in their village all day, curing the people from a sickness brought by the winter.

“I told you not to use your powers when not necessary.” Her father warned and Kenna bowed low.

“It was just to make things a little easier.” She replied and glanced at the fire.

“I know. But your power is a rare gift Kenna. Right after the war, the holy saints were stripped off their magic by the Unholui, and when the Northern King offered to revive them of their magic using one of the gods’ gems from the weapon, they refused. That was the end of magic for all they know. Those who survived the war now live in fear that if magic is present, history will repeat itself.” Kenna knew about this story, more so than others, the minute she started showing signs of possessing the gift at a very young age, her father and mother sat her down and told her the danger that comes with her ability.

After the war the rest of the holy saints decided to remain stripped off their power, fearing what would happen if somebody once again used it for unholy means. They isolated themselves in the mountains in self proclaimed exile. Of course their lineage didn’t end there, the next generations were born but since they were now mortals, there was no one born of magic anymore and they intended to keep it that way.

The holy saints became a small tribe of farmers, fishermen and blacksmiths. They now live in what was once the eighth kingdom, between the mountains and rivers, far away from the rest of the world.

“Well something smells delicious!” A cheery voice came to the door and Kenna turned around with a smile and arms opened wide to greet her mother who just walked in.

“Welcome home mother. I made mushroom soup for us this evening. I managed to pick some up at the forest near the river.” Kenna smiled and her mother gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Mushroom! Excellent! I’m really hungry there’s so much work that had to be done at the shop today.”

“The old man Bill can no longer carry out his tasks the way he used to, I presume.” Kenna’s father joked and his wife let out a chuckle.

“Oh hush, Gideon, Bill may be old but he is still a member of the council.”

“Yes but my dear Eden, you and I both know that the council today is no more than a pack of old wise men.“ Gideon sighed as he helped Kenna with the table setting.

“Still they are wise. And they were once great and holy saints.” Eden reminded.

“Speaking of holy saints why don’t you tell your mother what you’ve been up to before she arrived?” Gideon said and both adults turned to Kenna.

“What? I was making supper.” She smiled and her mother raised an eyebrow.

“Did you use magic again Kenna?” Of course, her mother could detect a lie even if she was a hundred miles out. The gloomy silence that fell on Kenna’s face was answer enough and so Eden sighed.

“My dear, you know we’re so very proud of you and we’re happy that you were born with such an incredible gift. But this gift, most of the people see as a curse. You have to be careful.”

“I know, mother.” Kenna replied and she sat down the table to join them for supper.

“It’s not a bad thing having these gifts; we just have to be very careful in how we use them.” Eden smiled and her sky colored eyes turned a light shade of crimson and the burning firewood at the hearth died down a little.

“HONESTLY.” Gideon shook his head but there was a proud little smile present on his lips and Kenna grinned gladly at the sight.

If only she knew that that would be their last time together as a happy family, she wouldn’t have gone to sleep.

“Kenna!” a hushed but urgent tone woke Kenna up from her sleep. She blinked and took in her surroundings, she was in her bedroom, the light of the candle on her bedside table was almost dying but it was enough to shine a light on her mother’s face.

“Kenna! We need to go!” Eden said and frantically pulled Kenna up and about. She grabbed a pack and started to stuff Kenna’s clothes in it, she grabbed the now distressed youth and they ran downstairs.

“What’s going on?” Kenna finally asked once they were out of the house. She was scared and panicked, especially when she smelled smoke and saw flames rise in the air and surround their village.

“Where’s father?!” She asked again as they ran.

“He’s at the shop helping others to escape.” Eden replied.

“Escape? Escape from what?” Kenna didn’t get to hear an answer when she heard the screaming of men, women and children, all of them were coming from the village.

“Hurry child!” Eden urged her on and they ran. They arrived at the village in flames and the sight was something Kenna wished she didn’t see. There were bodies everywhere, some were burnt and some were violently wounded by some kind of weapon. Others were being cradled by their loved ones as they cried and looked around for help.

“Gideon!” Her mother’s cry broke her out of her thoughts and she turned to the direction she was looking at. Her father, standing with some of the men and remaining council members of the village was holding a staff and he was protectively shielding the rest of them from something Kenna cannot quite clearly see.

Suddenly, a cold chill went up Kenna’s spine and she felt something heavy weighing her down. It was like the earth was draining her energy. She took sharp breaths at an attempt to normalize her state and when she looked up, she was mortified.

An army of dark cloaked men moved towards her father and the others. Gideon took a step forward and slammed the staff on the ground, emitting a white light. All of them were taken aback.

“Gideon! You have the gift?” A council man said in disbelief.

“Now is not the time to be surprised, Alastair.” Gideon said and his eyes were now a bright shade of crimson.

“Your powers are strong, holy saint.” One of the cloaked men said as they regained their composure.

“But I’m afraid that is not enough.” He added and with a spell created an unusually large ball of fire.

“Who… Who are they?” Kenna shook in fear and her mother faced her.

“Kenna. You must run.” Eden said and with wide eyes, Kenna turned to her mother.

“What? What are you saying?”

“I know you can feel their dark power Kenna, I can feel it too, we cannot stop them with the way we are. All we can do is buy us some time.” Kenna couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mother is asking her to leave them? Why? And how could she ask such a thing?

“Kenna you must go.”

“No! I can help father! I can help them!” She cried but her mother wouldn’t have it.

“The only way you can help us right now is by being safe! If they kill us all here no one will be able to warn the other kingdoms of this massacre. You must go my child!” Eden pushed Kenna away and towards the other side of the village.

“Where will I go?” Kenna asked through her tears. She didn’t want to leave but her mother is right. She is not yet strong enough to handle such a dark and immense energy that is coming from the cloaked men.

“To Forodren, find Stephen, he will help you.” Eden said and gave her daughter one last kiss goodbye on the forehead before letting her go and running to the line of fire.

Kenna turned away still overcome by grief and ran to the safety of the forest. She could still hear the screams of the children and women as she made her way through, and then in a fleeting moment, she felt life come out of her. It wasn’t her life that she felt for she was still alive, but she was down on her knees in the middle of a clearing and she could feel that something inside her was stripped away. She knew what it was and her eyes turned crimson as she screamed in agony. Her parents were gone.

Travelling alone was a new thing for Kenna. She slept alone, hunted for food alone, walked alone, and cried alone. It took her hours before she moved from the spot where she felt her parents’ life disappear and after walking for a while she lost her energy and collapsed on the ground. It wasn’t until after two days when a deer started to chew at her hair that she woke up.

She didn’t move a muscle right away. She sat there crying, hunched and hugging her knees, trying to remember what her mother’s touch felt like before she sent her away. The only reason she started to move was that she remembered what she must do; go to Forodren and find Stephen, a long time friend of her parents.

And so, months after the attack at her village, she has made her way to the borders of the Northern Kingdom.

Kenna estimated a few more days walk until she reaches the lower town of the kingdom and the sky was getting darker by the second. She could continue on knowing she can very well protect herself but she was too tired and very famished. Besides, the borders of Forodren were home to the scattered beasts of every kind imaginable, she wouldn’t want to run into any of them. Some of them were not exactly friendly to men right after the war.

Kenna created a bonfire and started to cook with the herbs and mushrooms she picked along the way. She then took out a book in her pack and placed her hand upon it.

“Treneri-nin cin golodh.” The spell caused the book to reveal markings of an ancient making, they emitted a bright orange light and the book was opened.

Kenna began reading where she last left off, the book was given to her by her father and she used it to study incantations that would help her control her gifts at a young age. She didn’t realize her mother packed it for her on the night she escaped.

Night fell quickly and soon Kenna was in deep sleep.

“Kenna… Kenna…” a repetitive voice called out and Kenna opened her eyes. She was no longer in the forest of Forodren. She was in a field of tall grass, the sun shone brightly beyond the horizon and as Kenna shielded her eyes from the sun she saw a lonely figure standing a few feet away from her.

“Kenna.”

“Who are you?” She asked and the figure walked closer. It walked and stopped in front of Kenna who had tears in her eyes upon recognizing who it was.

“Father?” She said in disbelief. The figure smiled and stretched out his arms and she immediately sprinted towards him for a hug.

“I’m sorry father. I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t help you and mother.” Kenna cried loudly. All her grief and sorrow from the past months simultaneously enveloped her. But her father placed a soft hand on her head and kissed her hair.

“There is nothing to be sorry about my dear daughter. We did not pass from this world in vain. You are alive, and that is what matters. You have to become stronger Kenna, the enemies we have faced are nothing but a taste to what’s truly about to come. You must warn the remaining kingdoms. They need to be prepared.”

“If I reach the king surely his weapon from the gods could help bring down the men that attacked our village.” Kenna guaranteed.

“I’m afraid it won’t be that simple. Not this time.” Gideon said and this brought a fear in Kenna’s eyes.

“The enemy we faced was the Unholui.”

“But I thought… I thought they were long gone.” Kenna muttered in disbelief.

“Some said they were vanquished when Aeron passed but I’m afraid that was nothing but hearsay. The others survived the power of the King’s Weapon and they fled into hiding, and slowly they started regaining their powers over the past years. They scoured the earth to find the last of the holy saints, and when they found us…” Gideon stopped and removed his tunic to reveal a huge burn mark on his chest. Kenna gasped and looked away with tears in her eyes.

“They took your gift.” She said through gritted teeth after a moment of silence.

“They took everyone’s gift. The rest of the holy saints may not have such obvious gifts like your mother and I but inside them was a dormant power they didn’t bother to rekindle. The Unholui took them and became more powerful than ever before.” Gideon finished and placed both his hands on his daughter’s shoulders.

“You are the last of the holy saints Kenna. You must protect your gift with your life, if the Unholui found out one of us has escaped, they will not stop hunting you and they will kill you. Promise me, child… Promise you will keep yourself safe.” He said and Kenna nodded.

“It’s time for me to go. I must get back to your mother.” Gideon smiled which Kenna returned warily.

“Don’t worry Kenna, your mother and I are always with you. In here.” He pointed to her heart and then he was gone.

Kenna sat up from her sleep. She was back in the forest of Forodren.

Forodren was a powerful kingdom. Right after the war, the rest of the remaining kingdoms pledged their allegiance to the king. All was safe and the weapon used to defeat Aeron and the Unholui was sent back to the gods but the gems that hold the powers of the weapon were gifted to the remaining kingdoms.

Six gems, four kingdoms. Three of these gems remained in Forodren while the remaining three got one each. Once joined together and placed on the weapon of the gods, the gems can emit a powerful force of magic that can diminish any darkness that threatens the earth. After the Great War, the four kingdoms believed Aeron and his followers to be dead and so the gems became no more than a gifted relic, a reminder of the dark ages.

Today was especially a good day for the kingdom for it was that time of the year where they celebrate and remember the day they won the war. They called it The Great Victory. A weeklong festival was in the making and the kingdom had opened its doors for the rest of the land to come and visit.

King Anthony was in the throne room, asleep on a stack of papers piled on top of his table. His snore was cut short when Steve, his royal advisor, came running in.

“My liege!” Steve shouted and walked briskly towards the king’s table. The king looked up with a paper stuck on his sweaty forehead.

“What is it Steve?” He asked and abruptly removed the embarrassment off his face.

“Your son has gone missing. Again.” Steve answered and the king sighed.

“I’m sure he’s just with Harry. Don’t they always disappear at this time of the day?” The king asked and began rearranging the papers on his table.

“Yes. But sire, today is a particularly special day, and the prince should be in his chambers getting ready for the arrival of the other kingdoms.” Of course, his royal advisor was right, he wasn’t appointed in that position for nothing.

“Fine. Have Clint find him. It’s better to send that guy than the whole battalion.” The king said and Steve gave a low bow and left.

King Anthony stood up from his seat and looked out his window which had the perfect view of the kingdom. He could see everyone busying themselves with preparations but everyone was happy and that was all he ever wanted, for his people to be safe and happy.

The window took in his reflection and the king eyed the three pieces of gems on a round crest hanging on his neck and in front of his chest. The blue gem, the yellow gem and the green gem shone dimly and it slowly reminded the king of the Great War.

He shook his head and held on his left hand, the feeling of the weapon still embedded in his veins. But now is not that time to remember such a burden, now is the time for the Great Victory, the Great War was over, there is peace and he vows to keep it that way.

The king looked down at the castle gates just in time to see a man in hunting gear with a bow and arrow strapped behind his back, ride out towards the town to find his son.

Kenna walked in the gates of the lower town of Forodren. There were so many people present she didn’t know where to look for Stephen. She can’t even remember how the man looked. All she knows is that Stephen is a skilled healer just like her father.

“Hello! A lovely flower for the lovely lady!” A young boy walked up to her. He was carrying a basket of an assortment of flowers and he had this cheerful look on his face as he handed her a sunflower.

“Oh. Thank you but I don’t have any money for that.” Kenna replied politely.

“No need for money milady, the flower is free. One of the gifts King Anthony gives every festival.” The boy replied and handed the flower to Kenna once again and this time she took it with a smile. The boy then skipped away and started to hand out flowers to anyone that passes by. Kenna then noticed other children doing the same thing and that the adults were busy running about and putting up colorful decorations in everything they can get their hands on.

Kenna walked towards the center of the lower town and there she saw a great banner with the words: “The Great Victory” being put up by soldiers and helpers alike. She was too busy admiring the sights she didn’t notice where she was walking and bumped into a boy in a blue cloak.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking.” She said and bowed.

“No. It’s okay. No harm done.” The boy replied and brought the hood of his cloak lower to his face and turned away. Kenna looked curiously at the boy but didn’t bother anymore when she heard a familiar name.

“Stephen! It’s a rare sight to see you out of your hole and here where the fun is starting.” A man with dark skin and short hair, wearing a dark blue and green robe called out. Kenna stretched her neck to see through the crowd and there in front of the man was another man, taller and more lean. He had dark hair with streaks of white on both sides and he was wearing a red cloak over a dark blue tunic.

“Yes Mordo, it is rare. Though it is also rare to see you here when you should be at the church, assisting, what was his name? Wong? With the preparations for the sermon this evening.” Stephen chided and Mordo gave a laugh and patted Stephen’s shoulder.

“You got me there Stephen. I’ll see you at the festival.” With that, Mordo left.

Kenna made her way through the bustling crowd and she followed Stephen into a house which she assumed was his home.

“Hello?” She asked as she walked in. The house was huge and it was full of books, bottles, herbs and liquids of different sorts. It reminded Kenna of one of the rooms at their house where her father usually did his studying of medicine.

“Who are you?” A deep voice resonated from above and Kenna looked up to see Stephen floating. Yes, he was definitely floating. Kenna blinked twice to make sure and when she was sure that Stephen was floating in midair her mouth fell open.

“I’m… uh… I’m… I’m sorry, but you do realize you’re floating, right?” She asked and she actually thought herself to be stupid at her own question.

“Yes I am aware. And do you realize that it’s rude to enter people’s homes without knocking?” Stephen asked back and Kenna felt embarrassed.

“Sorry. I was just… I was looking for you, and I’ve traveled very far just to get here. I needed to find you immediately.” She said and Stephen finally went down to the ground. He removed the red cloak and hung it on a rack near the fireplace.

“Which brings us back to the question, who are you?” He asked as he turned to face her.

“I’m Kenna.” She answered and Stephen took a moment before registering the name.

“Kenna. Gideon and Eden’s daughter?” He asked and the smile on Kenna’s face was an enough answer for him.

“Why are you here? Did something happen?” Stephen asked and immediately, Kenna’s smile died down. She held on the strap of her pack tightly her knuckles started to turn white. She looked at Stephen, her eyes were brimming with tears and when she closed them to regain composure, a single drop fell.

“They’re gone.” Kenna choked out to the best of her ability and the look on Stephen’s face was a mixture of grief, pain and pity for the young girl in front of him.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” He finally answered and offered her a seat.

“It happened three and a half months ago…” She started and Stephen began to brew tea and he set a plate of bread for Kenna to eat while she continued on with her story.

“The Unholui? Are you sure about this?” Stephen asked and Kenna nodded.

“My father told me in a dream that it was them. That they were more powerful than before and that they wiped out all of the remaining holy saints in order to strip them of their gifts.” She replied and drank from the cup of water Stephen offered her after she cried again about her parents’ death.

“Not all of them. You made it out.” Stephen said.

“Yes.”

“You are now the last of your kind.” He added and she gave a sad nod.

“I must keep this information a secret. If the Unholui finds out that one holy saint still lives, they will come for me and kill me.” She replied. Stephen understood this and gave her a pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry. Forodren is the safest place for you to be. No harm will come to you here.” He assured her with a smile.

“You must be tired. I have a spare bed right next to my room upstairs.” Stephen offered and stood up.

“But what of the king? Shouldn’t we tell him about the Unholui?” Kenna asked as she grabbed her bag and walked after Stephen towards the stairs.

“We can tell the king later in the day. In the meantime, you should rest. Tonight, the start of The Great Victory Festival will commence. You’re going to need your strength for that.” Stephen smiled and escorted Kenna to her room.

“Thank you Stephen.” Kenna said as Stephen waited by her door.

”I need to ask one thing.” Stephen then said and of course, Kenna expected this. She was actually surprised Stephen didn’t ask about it in the middle of her story.

“I know Gideon and Eden and I know what they are capable of, they were the ones who taught me a little bit of magic. I just need to ask, do you also have the gift?” He wondered and Kenna gave him a nod.

“Yes.” Her eyes turned a bright shade of crimson and she held out her closed fist towards Stephen, once she opened it, a replica of the sunflower in her pack sprouted out of her palm.

“You really are Gideon and Eden’s daughter. Don’t worry Kenna, no one will know your secret but me. We can’t have the Unholui discovering what you can do.” Stephen said and Kenna nodded in acknowledgment

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you in a few hours.” With that, Stephen closed her door and left her to sleep.

 “Peter Benjamin! Son of Anthony Edward! You better be ready before the festival or so help me I will tell your father to stop your combat lessons with the knights.” A tall and very beautiful woman with light golden hair shouted as she entered the royal chambers of the prince.

“I am! I am! I’m ready!” An exasperated young boy stumbled out behind his changing doors. His hair was disheveled but he was dressed for the upcoming occasion nonetheless.

The woman clicked her tongue and approached the boy with her long blue gown trailing behind her she then sat the boy down in front of a mirror and started to comb his hair properly.

“Honestly Peter, you know very well what this day is about, why do you make it so difficult?” She asked and placed a small crown on top of the prince’s head.

“I’m not making anything difficult, Pepper. I just wanted to have some fun before the rest of the royalties arrive. No one from the other kingdoms is my age except for the Western King; King T’Challa’s younger sister Shuri. But she won’t be coming due to a terrible cold. I’m gonna be stuck with the old kings for the rest of the night.” Peter answered and Pepper sighed. She knows the prince didn’t like to stay in one place and he only does so because he loves his father and wouldn’t do anything to disobey him. Clearly there was no rule that said he couldn’t go out and have some fun before the actual festival but there was a rule that he was supposed to be back before the afternoon strikes and since he lost track of time, Clint, one of the royal knights was sent to find him.

“Well you and Harry certainly had your fun, now it’s time for the “old kings” to have theirs.” Pepper smiled and Peter chuckled in return before making their way towards the banquet hall.

“My friends! Welcome!” King Anthony greeted guests left and right as they arrived in the hall. Everyone bowed in respect to the king and he smiled at them in return.

“King Anthony.” A younger king approached. He was wearing black and purple robes. An orange gem was hanging on his neck like a necklace. The younger king crossed his arms in front of his chest like an X as a form of respect and salute to King Anthony.

“King T’Challa. I told you to just call me Tony.” The king did the salute in return and then stretched out his hand after for a handshake. He gave the King of the West a firm tap on the shoulder as he welcomed him and ushered him to the banquet table.

“King T’Challa.” Peter greeted with the salute and the king reciprocated the gesture.

“I’m sorry my sister won’t be joining us this time. I fear her fever didn’t heal in time.” T’Challa said and Peter was saddened at the thought but he smiled nonetheless.

“I’m sure she will recover soon. In the meantime, please enjoy the festival.” Peter said politely when they heard trumpets by the door; a sign that another King has arrived.

“It’s Nicholas.” Tony grinned.

“I thought he said not to call him that.” T’Challa smiled and they turned toward the door. An older man with only one good eye stood in dark robes. A red gem was pinned on the left side of his robes. A woman with blood red hair stood next to him in a silver gown and right next to her was another woman clothed in the armor of the Eastern Kingdom.

“Nick.” T’Challa greeted and the other king gave the salute as a sign of respect before bowing towards Tony.

“I see the fun has started without me.” King Nicholas said and he laughed.

“I’m afraid it has! But don’t worry, we got all week for the fun I’m sure you won’t be missing.”

“Now all that is left is King Erik.” Steve then joined the kings at the table.

“Yes but you know how he is, stylishly late.” Maria; King Nicholas’ Captain of the Guard said as she drank a glass of wine.

 “Well nothing ever changes. Will you please excuse me for a moment?” Tony then stood up and made his way towards a familiar face in the crowd. Peter followed his father’s movements, dreading the idea that he was left at the table with the “older kings”.

“Stephen!” Tony yelled as he made his way towards the Physician.

“My king.” Stephen bowed and Tony chuckled.

“I told you there’s no need for that.” He said and then looked behind Stephen to see a young girl.

“Who’s this?” He asked and the girl bowed.

“I am Kenna, your majesty.” She said and the king smiled in acknowledgement.

“Sire, I have a concern that I must discuss with you.” Stephen said and Tony turned to him. Stephen looked troubled and that was enough to catch the king’s attention.

“What seems to be the problem?” He asked and Stephen looked at Kenna before turning back to the king.

“The Unholui are alive.” With this, Tony’s world slowed down. This was something he didn’t think he would hear, especially today.

“What? What are you talking about?” Tony asked in disbelief.

“It is true sire .They attacked my village and killed everyone they laid their eyes on. They possessed horrible and haunting abilities. I was lucky I got away.” Kenna started and Tony looked at her. She didn’t seem to be lying and Stephen seemed to trust her. But how? How are the Unholui still alive? And why now have they started to make an appearance again?

“When was this?” Tony asked.

“Three and a half months ago.” Kenna answered and Tony paced back and forth.

“We must warn the other kingdoms. They need to be prepared in case of an – ” the trumpets sounded again and the King of the South along with his son and daughter came in the banquet hall.

“Sit with me by the table. I will need to hear your full story on this before I make my move.” Tony said and gestured Stephen and Kenna to follow him up front.

King Erik, his son Prince Pietro and his daughter Princess Wanda; bowed to the other kings in respect and as soon as a toast had been made for the festival, everyone was back to their own business.

Tony turned back to Stephen to continue their talk when King Erik proposed another toast.

“May I have our attention, please?” He asked and every chatter died down and they turned toward the Southern King.

“Many years ago, this land was saved under the clutches of a dark and powerful sorcerer. Thanks to my good friend King Anthony here, we were blessed with a weapon to destroy this darkness. But we have been deceived!” Erik started and the rest of crowd murmured in response. Tony and Stephen looked at each other and then Stephen looked to Kenna.

“The darkness is not defeated! It lives! And it continues to grow in power and corrupt all that is hopeful and good.” He continued.

“What kind of madness is this King Erik?” Nick asked.

“It is not madness my friend, it is the truth. This darkness only grows in secret and while you…” he pointed a finger at the other kings, the purple gem glowing dimly on his ring, “you sit here and celebrate a battle that you’ve won once and never thought to seek if the enemy really is vanquished.”

“But the enemy is vanquished! Aeron turned to dust the moment the weapon was used against him.” T’Challa replied.

“I am not talking about Aeron. I am talking about the Unholui.” At the mention of this Kenna’s eyes went wide and she turned in a state of panic towards Stephen who looked at her in return.

“They live! Their powers grow! They are becoming a force you wouldn’t even begin to believe to face.” Erik continued when Tony stood up from his seat.

“How do you know this?” He asked with a suspicious look towards the other king.

“I have seen. They have shown me.” King Erik smiled and the ring on his finger, the ring with the gem, turned black. A power so intense shot out of the gem and towards Tony and if Stephen hadn’t grabbed him and pulled him away he would’ve been hit.

Screams of panic and terror filled the banquet hall as the air began to pick up and destroy the place. Chairs and tables were overturned, the candles were blown out, the kings and their people looked in horror as King Erik started to rise above the ground. The prince and princess were then surrounded by their own knights. King Tony’s knights marched in the hall and started to fight with the Southern Knights and prevented them from hurting any civilians.

“SURRENDER TO THE POWER OF UNHOLUI OR PERISH.” King Erik said.

“Erik this is madness!” Nick shouted and the dark king laughed.

“Isn’t this what you just asked?” He taunted and directed his ring towards the Eastern King.

“Than hain” Kenna whispered behind a column in the banquet hall she dove behind earlier in order to avoid the first attack. The power of the ring was blocked and it disappeared. Erik was taken aback, as were the others.

“You cannot hurt the kings while they are wearing their gems.” Stephen then said but he knows it wasn’t the king’s gem that protected him.

“Then I’ll settle for anyone not wearing the gem!” Erik raged and the power of the black gem on his finger started to grow, Kenna could feel a large amount of dark magic coming from the maddened king.

She needed to stop this from getting worse and she needed to protect the people from any more harm. She looked up and saw the great chandelier hanging loosely above the oblivious king. Her eyes locked on the chandelier and as soon as her eyes turned crimson, the chandelier broke and fell.

“FATHER!” Prince Pietro yelled and ran towards their fallen king. The rest of their knights were down on the ground thanks to Forodren’s Knights and they held the princess captive.

“Stop this right now, Erik, you wouldn’t want another war to start.” Tony then said but Erik let out a dry chuckle before his blue eyes turned a dark shade of red.

“Oh but I do.” And with that, everyone from the Southern Kingdom had disappeared.

 tagging: @silverofthunder you’re the only person who knows about this mess hahaha!

other notes: I used a sindarin translator for the spells and other stuff.

[rainbownixie]

i think people don't really like s2 because it's more of a thriller than actual horror. they build suspense through the season because we don't know what exactly is the mind flayer, the og group is divided, we see el's journey that most people find boring, jancy's trip is more informational than anything, and there's lots of emotional but calm scenes rather than "ride or die" ones. even the finale is more talking than fighting. in general, s2 is... not slow, per se, but not really "die die kill blood monster monster baseball bat scary creepy stuff" y'know? (except for some scenes with steve and the kids) and people expect st to be more of a horror inspired show than a thriller. and we don't get to that part until the final episodes.

but... tbh i think s2 is the best. especially because of how well all the relationships are built! we're introduced to the dustin/steve friendship and we get lumax! we also see byler all the time together and i think it's great showing how much mike loves will and vice versa. the way jancy is built is also sweet and we get bob! bob!!!!!! and murray!!! plus the halloween/autumn aesthetic and the soundtrack??? awesome.

and not to mention the ACTING! the way i feel their emotions in s2 is amazing.

i think that because people come from watching s1 they expect seeing el with the gang and go all "bloody nose destroy powers kill big scary monster". most casual viewers prefer action than character development or study. and it's completely valid, really. but i think s2 has the best script and duos of the show (robin and steve don't count they're on another level and s3's direction is great).

but yeah, in other words i think casual viewers don't like s2 because they get bored. and for bylers this season is our peak ngl it's literally the softest byler content we have.