hear the lamentations of the women

The lie of privacy rant

My mother would gossip to the other parents about my stomach pains, the rashes, my bowel movements and bed wetting when i was a child.

I begged her to not share these things but she would insist maybe one of those catty women would know a way to help.

My grandmother laments my strict diet and shelves of medication to her bible group and I simmer when they make jokes at dinners.

My father complains about the medical bills to his buddies, I hear him on the phone telling a man I’ve never met about the anxiety attacks I have always hidden from my friends.

My sister explains to the people ar the grocery store why I walk so slowly, why I limp, why my breathing is so loud even when i ask her to stop.

My grandfather asks people to pray for my crooked spine, my failing lungs, the way my joints have begun to give up.

They do it because they need to explain why I’m not normal, they do it to vent about the burden.

They say it’s public information since anyone could see.

But that woman in the store didn’t need to know about my bowel movement when i was 13 and burning red with embarrassment.

The church ladies didn’t need to know the amount of pills i take in a day.

I deserved an increment of privacy.

But if you’re disabled in any way you are seen as a small child. Private information is nonexistent, they speak like you can’t hear them, like it doesn’t matter how embarrassed you may be.

And that sucks.

Barbarian Week: Berserkers and You!

There honestly isn’t much to be said about the D&D 5e barbarian. It’s a class that’s even more about fighting than the fighter. That said, there is always some depth into the mentality and mechanics of this class. I’m going to talk about how the DM, the player, and their allies should be using the barbarian in their game.

image credit: Will Murai

As a DM:

If you have a barbarian in your playgroup, there are some things you should know. For one thing, the barbarian doesn’t do much other than fight and get hit. So delve into the narration of combat. Make every attack dramatic, whether a hit or a miss, and make every attack against them just as dramatic. Combat is the whole reason they chose to play a barbarian. They want to hit hard and often, so you should let them be the hero that they want to be.

It might be difficult if the barbarian doesn’t want to play along with roleplaying encounters. They might screw up diplomatic relations, try to kill a friendly NPC, etc. You could remind them of the consequences of their actions, but it’s much easier to use positive reinforcement. Show them the reward for playing along, like treasure, land, revenge, crushing your enemies, seeing them driven before you, hearing the lamentation of their women, etc.

Be aware of their strengths. Primarily, their STR score and CON score. Fill your adventures with opportunities to test their STR modifier with Athletics checks. Give them pits to jump, underwater encounters, boulders to throw, stone gates to hold open, etc. They will be able to resist most poisons, disease, exhaustion, nausea, indigestion, and transmutation/necromancy spells thanks to their CON. Give them creatures and traps to face that offer a CON saving throw to make them feel strong by how easily they can resist it.

The barbarian runs the most risk of being overpowered. They are built for it. A berserker barbarian can get up to three attacks (at level 5) with advantage just for raging, and with their added damage that’s easily a deadly turn for any victim with less than 40 HP. Remind them that they are not invulnerable, despite their resistance to “bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing” damage. Be mindful that they do have weaknesses.

If you want to challenge a barbarian, you need to give them insurmountable odds. Many, many creatures will have enough attacks to get consistent hits on a barbarian. One or two high-CR creatures will force them to use up lots of healing resources. Even so, these “insurmountable odds” can be swept up by the right adventuring party if spellcasters are present. If you hold up the spellcasters for a turn or two, the barbarian will start to feel those odds stacked against them, which may be enough to remind them of their vulnerability. That is, before the magic-user charms the high CR creature or fireballs the mob of enemies to make things more manageable.

Another easy way to challenge the barbarian is to target its biggest weakpoint: it’s mental ability scores. If a barbarian has to make a WIS, INT, or CHA saving throw, there is a good chance they will fail. Protip: if the adventuring party starts to rely too much on their barbarian, a Dominate Person spell on the berserker is easily the best way to turn the tide and put the fear of God in them.

As a Player:

As someone playing a barbarian, you will be tempted to just roll attacks every round. This is not a bad thing, but remember you have another strength: your Strength! Replace one or two of your attacks with Shove or Grapple attempts to help your allies get the edge they need. You may have advantage while recklessly raging, but your allies could use the help!

You shine brightest as the tank, absorbing damage for your team. You might not have as high of an AC as the fighter, but the halved damage is a huge plus. If you can get items or buffs from your friends or from shops to boost your HP, you will be able to withstand even greater threats. Stay away from seas of enemies unless you can get a surprise round in, since your AC being on the low-end will make those ten or so attacks much more likely to hit. You will have to trust in your allies to defend you. The healer will give you aid when you are low, the bard will boost your damage, the wizard will grant you False Life.

Other tips:

  • Kill the wizard and healer first. They have the lowest HP/AC and are the biggest threat to you since you have a low WIS score (don’t take it too personally, but I mean, you can’t even read or write).
  • Remember that you have Danger Sense! It works on “things you can see” so take Perception as a skill so you don’t miss anything.
  • Get plenty of gadgets. Batman uses them because he doesn’t have magic or superpowers, so you should too! Buy nets, grappling hooks, manacles, Dust of Disappearance, Universal Solvents, anything that you think might help a walking beefcake with no powers.
  • When all else fails, remember that “death” is the best crowd control.

 As a Team:

The barbarian in your group is the only thing standing between you and certain death. Use them to absorb all that damage that would normally be directed at your tender frame. They are glad to do so. Well, “angry” to do so. It’s the rage, you see.

If you’re a healer or support, keep them healed and buffed. Crowd control some of the enemies so the barbarian doesn’t get too claustrophobic. You don’t want them getting too many attacks made against them what with D&D 5e’s concept of bounded accuracy. However, you also want to make sure that multiple enemies are reachable by the barbarian. Thankfully they have increased movement for this, but just keep it in mind that the barbarian’s rage will end if they don’t attack for a round. Stick to the back lines as you do so.

If you’re a melee-type, use the barbarian for a flanking bonus and give them yours, as well. Shove enemies away from the barbarian if they are getting crowded. If you have a higher AC, draw the fire of the weaker enemies and let the barbarian take the big guys’ damage.


Well that’s it for today. Now that we are aware of how to use barbarians in your game, tomorrow I will delve into some homebrew Primal Paths for the barbarian! I’ve been spending time coming up with some homebrew magic items as well, which I will unveil later in the week. Happy Barbarian Week, everyone!

Izuku: Ochako, what’s going to motivate you through the Sports Festival?

Ochako: Now that’s a tricky one… I guess it would be-

“CRUSH YOU ENEMIES, SEE THEM QUIVER BEFORE YOU,

AND HEAR THE LAMENTATION OF THEIR WOMEN!”

Or being noted by the pros watching my performance. It’s pretty much the same.

Izuku: *Steps away, completely horrified*

(The Amazing World of Gumball)

The Wager Part 1

Imagine: Being good friends with Logan and getting cornered into a wager that finds you in more trouble that you hoped for. 

A/N - I hope you all enjoy - I’m probably going to make this a series but would love to hear your feedback!!!


Logan watched her from across the room, torn between grabbing her phone and ending her maddening conversation or just continue to watch his friend bury herself deeper in her lament. Y/N had been his friend for three years now and arguably one of the closest women he maintained a relationship with. Which he knew the reason why. He just didn’t understand how she couldn’t see it.

Instead, she dated men like the one on the phone, men who always seemed to let her down for some reason or another. He watched as her body tried to mask the frustration she was feeling, a battle she was losing slowly. Her fingers cut through her hair like daggers as she sighed into the phone once more.

“I don’t understand why you can’t make it tonight?” She was saying this now, pacing back and forth, her emerald ball gown flowing flawlessly against her curvy frame. Her gallery had just opened up a new exhibit that she was hosting and was hoping to introduce Logan to her new beau. The beau was late so he happily took the lead in being her date. You had both gone through most of the exhibit when her phone had rang, and she had pulled him into a hidden office. Which had frustrated him more, they both were getting quite tipsy and making quite silly observations when the interruption had occurred which had frustrated him more. Y/N was so set in being professional with him, even in their free time, the only way he could get her to break her shell was when they were drinking together.

The conversation thus far had been exactly like he had imagined it. A waste of time.  

“You promised you would try to make it this time you – oh,” she was cut off and her eyes narrowed. “If your career is more important than this relationship than yes, I think we should re-evaluate what we mean to each other.”

She pushed the end button before throwing her phone on the couch, staring out the window in anger. Y/N was a woman of elegance though she didn’t come from money like Logan, one of the reasons he found her entrancing. He watched her now, her backless gown exposing her soft skin, her shoulder blades obviously rigid.

“Y/N?” he spoke softly, bringing her attention back to their present. “Y/N, are you okay?”

You jumped at the sound of Logan’s voice. You had completely forgotten that he was in the room with you. You turned around, your eyes meeting his as he leaned against the wall across from you, his hands crossed across his chest. You knew what he was going to say before he knew it.

“Y/N, you know…” he began but you raised his hand up to stop him short.

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have even given that guy a chance.”

“Why did you give him a chance?” he asked, leaning off the wall and beginning to snoop through your bosses cabinets.

You watched him speculatively as he roamed through the cabinets, obviously looking for something to drink.

“Because…” you began. You thought about why you started dating Richard. Of course he wasn’t your type. He was a Wall Street businessman that was only invested in himself. You thought you could make Logan jealous if you dated him, one of his colleagues that Logan spent many a day with on the golf course and the office. Of course it had failed and Richard had disappointed you and you were stuck with Logan’s ‘I told you so’.

Logan found the treasure he was seeking and happily opened the bottle of whiskey, scouring through another cabinet to find two glasses.

“Because??” he asked, the amusement playing on his lips though his face never really cracked a smile. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Because I wanted to, okay. I am free to date and fuck whoever I please. I don’t need anyone’s permission.” You swiped the glass Logan was about to bring to his lips and took a long swig of the brandy, not whiskey, that he had found.

“And besides,” you countered as Logan watch you take another drink. “Its not like I need your permission.”

You snatched the bottle of brandy from his hands and refilled your cup.

Logan watched you amused. He had never seen this side of you before,  a side where you sassily dictated what you wanted and used vulgar language to your leisure. He liked it. A lot.

“I feel like I should make it my business – if I did you wouldn’t be in the bind you are in now.”

Y/N smirked, a few strands of hair falling from her coiffed hair down to her exposed shoulder blades. He imagined what it would feel like to caress her shoulder, how his lips would respond to her soft skin.

“You couldn’t control me even if you tried.”

Logan looked at her, his eyes darkening at the thought. He had imagined controlling her constantly, to manipulate her body into wanting his own. Only, of course, if she wanted it. He cleared his throat instead before saying, “I think you’re more afraid of the notion that I could control you if necessary.”

She laughed now and shook her head. “Logan, that is something that I would love to see.”

“Really?” he inquired, raising himself off the desk he was leaning on. “Would you want to make a little wager to this?

“A wager?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “If I can get you to – succumb to my will then you have to do whatever I want.”

“Whatever you want?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. She placed her glass down slowly, looking
Logan squarely in the eye.

“And if I don’t succumb to this powerful manipulation, I want you to do whatever I want. For a day. 24 hours excluding the 8 or so hours that you sleep.” You bravely poked your chin in the air, trying to push the facade of confidence. Secretly you were jumping up and down with joy and fear. Logan was known as a woman killer in all the circles you worked in. The tales you had overhead from clients had you both curious and afraid – could he really make a woman so happy she wasn’t able to move the next day?

You had been leaning against a side table across from him and watched him as he walked toward you, his drink in his hand. He leaned into you, placing his drink strategically behind you on the table. He pulled away only far enough so that his mouth was placed near your ear.

“A full, 24 hours of being your slave you say?” he whispered, his hands trailing up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Yea. Of whatever I want. Shopping. Going to cheesy romantic movies. Taking a cooking class…”

“Uh huh.” His hands were now caressing your shoulders, his right hand trailing down your chest. You felt your breathe hitch as he caressed over the cleavage the V lined dressed had left exposed. You felt your skin burn as you bit your lip and closed your eyes.

“While the thought of taking a cooking class sounds less than amusing and I don’t really understand the romantic movie genre, I could make an exception for you.”

“You’d hate every moment of it.” You reopened your eyes and looked at him as he pressed against you. You were surprised to feel him bulge against your stomach and knew that you had trapped yourself into something you didn’t know if you could handle.

“If I went shopping with you after all that it’d make it better. You have exquisite taste in clothing and I’d love to watch you model every. Single. Outfit.” He was saying this now between kisses he had begun planting on your shoulder. His lips were soft on your own skin and his beard tickled you.

“Who says I’d model them for you?” you felt your eyes fluttering close as his left hand slowly caressed up your back, bringing you closer to him.

“Could you model them for me?” his mouth was making its way up your neck, his lips gently nipping your skin, causing you to arch your back involuntarily.

“I don’t know…” you felt your resolve faltering as you wrapped your arms around him. “you didn’t say please.” You felt his hand squeeze your ass, drawing you closer to him.

“Could you please model them for me. I’d love to imagine what you would look like underneath each one…” his mouth was on your face, kissing your cheeks and eyes.

“Yes….I suppose I could……” he was on your lips now and you lost the rest of the words in his mouth. You both involuntarily groaned as he picked you up, pushing you on top of the table. You didn’t care if he won or not, which you were sure he did. Logan’s mouth was more coaxing than you cared to admit, and you ran your hair through his thick mane of hair eagerly. You felt him smile against your lips and pushed him away from you. He pulled away far enough to look you in the eye, but his eyes smiled with amusement.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You are a low down dirty bastard you know that.”

He chuckled and gave a slight shrug, “I may be. But I won.”

“I hardly consider seduction a form of manipulation.” you turn the away and he smiles.

“No?” his right hand raises to softly caress your neck, his touch sending an instant shiver down your spine. “You’re body is telling me otherwise. Besides, don’t you want to know what you won?”

A Court of Queens and Lords: Part 14

Part 1-10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Part 14:

Feyre didn’t know whether to throttle Hybern or to go to her husband. She preferred the latter, but she needed to ground herself. Wherever Hybern would see fragility, he’d take advantage of it. But Feyre couldn’t help the moment she locked eyes with Rhysand, his eyes full of sadness and longing to just hold her. She had to force herself to look away.

The last few hours had all been a blur. From the moment she met Tarquin at the Summer Court, where he told her of Hybern’s plans and his preferred allegiance to her, to then meeting up with Mor, Amren, her sisters, and their new friends. They had no time to even introduce themselves, only to come up with a game plan to sneak into Hybern and remain hidden. They planned to sneak the boys and the blonde woman, who she now learned was the famous Aelin, out of Hybern’s grips with ease. But of course, things never went according to plan.

She had not expected for Hybern to kill Rhysand so hastily. It was something he should have been scared to do, but she supposed that with the power of the Cauldron, he had nothing to fear. But still, killing one High Lord was like waging war on all the High Lords. This explained Tarquin’s decision though, and Feyre was relieved to be assured that Tarquin wasn’t a man blinded by revenge and power.

Now Feyre stood in front Hybern’s minions, all staring at her with eyes wide open. Hybern’s mouth was crooked with displeasure, which she returned with a grin.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” she said with a bite, and then proceeded to do a fake curtsy. His only response was his arm raising to send his soldiers away, revealing the crowd Feyre had brought with her.

When she had met Elide and Chaol, she had seen their skepticism to trust her. But nonetheless, they were kind and welcoming. Aedion had hugged Elide until she couldn’t breathe, and Chaol had stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Tarquin assured Feyre that they were friends and quickly explained to her where they had come from. One of the portals had opened right where the book had been hidden away, and when one of his spies had told them where the portals were coming from, Tarquin had known he couldn’t trust Hybern. For some reason, Feyre found herself trusting them instantly. They had a sense of loyalty to them, among kindness.

Manon and Dorian, on the other hand, she was weary of. They had met in the house cabin, where Feyre and Rhys had accepted their mating bond. She learned of Mor and Amren’s first meeting with them and was completely shocked at the fact they weren’t locked up in cages. But then Elain explained that with further interrogation, they actually were from another world. Another reunion occurred, with Chaol and Dorian hugging fiercely and Manon rolling her eyes. Introductions were briefly made, hugs were made, and again, they were on their way.

Now, Feyre’s little army was spread all over the room. Although she hadn’t known her allies for very long, they were all there ready to fight. She knew they weren’t here for her, but she was glad there was more of them. Hybern’s confusion made her beam.

“Feyre, I’m surprised you made it here so early. I wasn’t expecting your arrival for many hours.” He sounded annoyed, and Feyre wanted to laugh.

“It seems you don’t expect much from me, which is, quite obviously, a mistake.” Replied Feyre, as she motioned the room around her, empty of soldiers. Feyre turned her head to see Jurian sneering at her, she gave him a little wave in which he returned with a growl.

The King looked to Jurian and grinned. “Bring them in.” Jurian didn’t even hesitate and went about retrieving whatever the King wanted. Within a few seconds, Jurian returned with soldiers. Except, that’s not what they were. And Jurian wasn’t the only one leading them in. Keir was there, with a woman who radiated arrogance and hate. Everyone in the room had stilled, either from the betrayal of Keir or the woman’s intimidation.

Feyre grew anxious, seeing that the mountain ash was having a deep effect on the three men and the woman. Rhy’s breathing grew heavier and quicker than the rest. As Feyre made her way to him, Hybern gave the order for the soldiers to attack. And the whole room went into chaos.

“These aren’t regular soldiers,” Hybern gloated. Feyre paid no attention to him, as all she thought about was saving her husband. She untied the ropes that held him, and he slackened. Feyre held him upright as she tried to summon any sort of power she had to heal him. She prayed to the Gods and they answered as Rhys stood up by himself. It seemed that the mountain ash had prevented them from healing, but without it, they had their energy returned. Feyre moved to get the others free when Rhys stopped her, raised his hands, and freed his friends.

“You’ll have to teach me that, sometime.” Feyre teased, breathless to have him so close. His breath hitched as their eyes locked.

“Anything you want,” Rhys said. She wanted him to kiss her senseless. To hold her tight and for an unhealthy amount of time. But this was war. And they needed to act quick. They tore their gazes away from each other and looked at the scene in front of them.

Cassian and Azriel were already fighting, back to back. Dorian and Chaol were in the same position, as Manon and Nesta seemed to have a sort of dynamic with one another. The rest were spread out along the room.

Aelin had made a fire wall to surround herself and Elain, who had made a vine that stretched up to where a bird was caged. She brought it down and Aelin had snatched it away from the vine, eager to get to it. She unlocked the cage, and a white tailed hawk emerged. It wasted no time to change into a tall and glorious, silver haired man. The fire wall collapsed and more fighting began.

All of them were using their powers to stop these soldiers, but they were unstoppable. They were easy to kill, but they wouldn’t die. They’d get right back up. If they were blown up or misted, dust and shadows would gather them up again. All of them made their way to each other, as the soldiers surrounded them all. Feyre noticed that they didn’t bleed.

“As you can see,” Hybern began, “my soldiers aren’t actually soldiers. It was something that Maeve and I conjured. They are unstoppable.”

“What are they?” Demanded Cassian.

“Good of you to-”

Feyre didn’t hear anything he said next, as she saw one of the soldiers come clearer into view. It was her father. He stood there, his eyes motionless and staring off into nothingness. She looked to Rhys, who was also looking at her father, except not quite. He was looking at two women standing next to her father, a blonde girl and dark-haired woman. His breathe hitched.

“Your father,” he whispered. And suddenly, realization hit Feyre like a brick.

“Oh Rhys,” she lamented. “Your family.”

Things Knight is Not Allowed To Do in HEMA!

1) Still forbidden from using a wet towel as a substitute weapon, though only because the big wig names of the HEMA pantheon will hit me. Hard. Not (just) with sword. With big heavy stick.

2) Forbidden from using cats, dogs, hamsters, gerbils, rabbits, hares, ferrets, and any and all animals of the small variety as substitute weapons.

3) May not dual wield small animals.

4) Even if I somehow request the judges to wear casual clothing, this does NOT mean the rules are now “relaxed”.

5) “DEUS VULT” is no longer a permitted battle shout.

6) “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD” is no longer allowed.

7) “HEMA FOR THE HEMA GOD” is no longer allowed.

8) “BANZAI” was funny exactly once, and the afterblow killed it.

9) Battle shouts are now no longer permitted from Knight.

10) Fruit still are not permittable substitute weapons.

11) Throwing your pommel does not mean an insta-win in tournament, regardless of what the source manuscript says, memes be damned!

12) Grenades and projectiles of the gaseous, cluster, fragment, stun, and holy variety are NOT allowed, I don’t care WHAT the rules do or do not say!

13) Substituting your pommel with a cleverly concealed mini-frag grenade is very clever. It still violates points 11 and 12, and several segments of the Geneva Convention. No.

14) May not ask any Scottish fencers to help me recreate Braveheart’s best/worst scenes mid combat.

15) I am not obligated to ask for Confession for every doublehit.

16) Axel Petterson is NOT HEMA Jesus.

17) May not refer to John Clements as “The Adversary”.

18) No more HEMA cults, damn it!

17) Eating the flesh of your enemies is discouraged, particularly if they are still alive. ESPECIALLY if they are still alive.

18) Cannibalism has no place in HEMA.

19) Even though mounted combat forms a section of most fencing manuscripts, it is to be assumed most tournaments do not plan for you to begin your bout astride a frisian warhorse, made to trample down your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of the women.

20) Sharpening your Feder is super banned.

21) While technically, wrapping your feder in barbed wire is not strictly written against in the rules, and while it does not count as direct modification to your sword, outside of Brooklyn, you can forget it.

22) If handling First Aid, medical equipment had better consist of more than just a bone-saw and bottle of scotch.
(Regardless of what Jakub may say).

23) For the sake of prolonging your life-span, recording the Esfinges bouts and releasing the tapes as “HEMA Women gone wild!” is in extremely poor taste.

24) No mocking German Longsword fencers with Nazi propaganda set to a groovy disco beat.

25) Armoured cavalry of the modern variety is right out.

26) While the name “Astolat” was deliberately selected, may not go to said tournament, beat everyone there, then gallivant off without introducing myself to anyone, claiming I’m channeling my inner Lancelot.

27) Tournaments really do require you to register by name: we no longer accept obvious pseudonyms, Heraldry, Black shields, or claims of being “an anonymous knight fighting on behalf of a wronged Lady/Noble.”

28) While a swift kick to the kiwis is actually a technique laid out by Fiore for the purpose of dueling, and while it may be technically valid for some tournaments, a “Duel” in tournament standards may now be confined to the two individuals listed as fencing, not the uppity judge that claims it “lacks proper validation”, even if it was very satisfying.

29) May no longer wear a Luchador mask under the helmet, to dramatically be revealed when entering into grapple-play.

30) Talhoffer has a single segment on using a crossbow, on horseback, while retreating at great haste. Unless these terms are met, please refrain from pod-shotting your opponent mid-bout.

31) If the weapon you use can score a hit with laser precision from the next building over, it is banned.

32) So is the method of firing it.

33) May not quote Lichtenauer verses as if referring to Biblical script, just to annoy the German Longswordsmen.

34) Until the Pope takes up HEMA and is willing to back you, no declaring a Crusade upon any club, system, individuals, or landmass involved in HEMA.

35) Declaring a Crusade on the ARMA is currently pending.

36) Using EXCESSIVE force is not the same as THE Force.

37) Blessing your feder before a match does not give you a +1 to hit.

38) Declaring Smite Evil on your opponent doesn’t really do much, sorry.

39) May not ignite your feder at any point, for any reason, no matter how “Freakin’ sweet” it may look.

40) HEMA is not Dark Souls, you can stop dodge rolling now.

41) Any act that may associate you with Don Quixote is right out.

42) No more hiring HEMA people to help you; “to banish the long night” and embark upon a magical adventure straight out of Malory. Again.

43) No more referring to poncy rapier fencers as “Team Sewing Machine”.

44) Referring to the Polish branch of ARMA as “The One True Protestant Church of ARMA” is no longer allowed.

45) Introducing SCA and LARP fighters to the Mordhau is grounds for court cases under Murder Law.

46) No assembling the Sabruers to re-establish the Prussian Empire.

47) Using a bike, quad-bike, tricycle, or unicycle is right out.

48) While we encourage safety in HEMA, both in and out of practice, putting a condom on any or all of your kit or person does NOT meet with standard safety requirements.

49) No longer allowed to assemble the Spaniards under team name “The Inquisition”.

50) No longer allowed to assemble the Japanese under the team name “Reverse Weeaboo”.

51) No telling noobs that they can beat the Swedes with a rolled up newspaper.

52) HEMA stands for “Historical European Martial Arts”. NOT for “Hittite Empire Making Appearance”.

53) Or “Hillbillies Extreme Macho Apparel”.

54) OR “Hussars Euphoric over Massive Armaments”.

55) OR “Hussies in Extreme Massive Anal”.

56) Knight is banned from commenting on what “HEMA” stands for.

57) No longer allowed to challenge someone to a duel, then whip out a period pistol.

58) No calling bad rapier noobs “Errol Flynn”.

59) Not obligated to speak in a bad South West accent when using a saber, nor wear an eye-patch, save for International Speak like a Pirate Day.

60) Never allowed to repeat the phrase: “…more than 1,000 innocent lives” in the company of any HEMA practitioners.

61) Not allowed to refer to any weapon, equipment, or persons as a Marital Aid.

62) No HEMA organisation has monopoly over any motto for the community at large, and the motto sure as hell isn’t: “Let’s stick our dicks in some history texts!”

63) Nor: “Because the Olympics is for twats!”

64) Or “The Swedish take over the world!”

65) No such thing as HEMA faeries, sorry.

66) Not obligated to change outfit, weapon, and fighting style, then re-enter into any on-going tournament after being knocked-out of the rankings, claiming “I rolled a new character”.

67) No longer allowed to shout “To the HEMABILE!”, or use any throwing weapons here-after referred to as “HEMArangs”.

68) “No attempts to cause serious injury” now includes redundant organs.

69) While appropriate, may not call any ARMA guys “The High Order of the Red Shirt”.

70) Rapier fencers are not against my religion.


According to @longswordsinlondon, #26 & #27 are now acceptable. If that’s not the true meaning of Christmas, I don’t know what is.

Prompt: Matt the Technician x Rey the Mechanic. In which Rey falls in love, Kylo Ren gets his nose spectacularly broken, and Captain Phasma debates an early retirement. 

(Note: Story continued under ‘READ MORE’ due to length.)


Bet

It starts out with a bet – well, more of a taunt really.

Okay, so it was a taunt in the form of a few offhand remarks by General Hux.

“You want to send how many divisions? And to obscure planets that you only have unsupported feelings may be the locations of Resistance bases?” An obnoxious bark of laughter. “Ridiculous.”

“Hardly a mere feeling, General.” Clasping his hands behind his back, Kylo Ren cants his head at a smug angle. “My intuition comes directly from the Force.”

The sneer that stretches along the General’s face varies along a spectrum that ranges from dismissive to utterly disbelieving.  “Regardless of where you obtain your insights from, the time frame alone in which you ask me to move the troops is impossible.”

“I fail to understand why.”

The insufferable man’s lips curl nastily upwards again. “No, you wouldn’t, would you?” he says. “After all, you don’t deign to involve yourself in the daily matters necessary in ensuring the continued efficiency of the Order.”

Not for the first time since their initial meeting, Kylo Ren reminds himself that he really must kill Hux at some point. “I’m gratified to know you think so lightly of my position, General,” he says wryly.

“On the contrary,” comes the smoothly condescending reply. “I’m merely stating that someone who was, shall we say, given his position on merit of invisible powers would, of course, know little other than how to give orders, and nothing of the menial processes involved in seeing them fulfilled.”

Kylo Ren stares ominously at him – or at least as ominously as the eye-slits in his mask will allow. “As you’ve said, General, I possess an inconceivable mastery of those invisible powers – I doubt that any task would be beyond me.”

“Oh?” Hux says. “A moving speech Ren…although mere boastful words give little proof to that claim.”

There’s a whisper and flourish of fabric as one very vexed Kylo Ren whirls about and stalks out of the room, hand lingering over his lightsaber and an interesting mixture of Huttese swear words being muttered under his breath. Hux thinks he possibly catches a furious mumble of “I’ll show you my proof, you pompous bastard”, but dismisses it from thought.

Days later, Phasma and Hux are on their way to an impromptu base inspection when a flurry of blonde hair, absurdly large glasses, and a familiarly tall, slim figure clad in a teal technician’s uniform stomps by. The absolute look of loathing he levels at Hux is what ruins the already-flimsy charade.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from the stormtrooper Captain beside him. “Was that – “

“It was,” Hux cuts her off disinterestedly.

“Why – “

“Do I really look like the type of person who invests valuable time in attempting to figure out Kylo Ren’s eccentrics?”

-
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Keep reading

Metal Torture - Chapter 7

Author’s Note: I took a little different approach in this chapter, writing Mister J’s perspective in.  This won’t be the last time it happens. 😆 I really enjoying writing from his point of view and I hope I do it justice.

Thank you for your continued love and support.  This chapter isn’t quite as long as some of my previous chapters, so I’ll be updating Chapter 8 later today.  So much love and appreciation for you all. ❤❤

Warnings: Lots of language and smut. 😉

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let’s play a game.”

I clapped my hands in agreement, my eyes twinkling excitedly. I sat cross-legged on the bed, his form slumped in a chair by the fireplace.

“You go hide,” Mister J began. “And if I find you, you have to give me a treat.”

It was silly and ridiculous and I was just delirious and bored enough to be game. I was running from the bedroom before he could say another word.

“Count to fifty and come and find me.” I yelled over my shoulder, pulling the door shut behind me. I turned back, popping my head back inside. “No cheating.”

Mister J gave me a mocking look of hurt and I ran off giggling and giddy.

Keep reading

10

A comiXologist Recommends (a series that’s on sale right now)

Red Sonja

You really owe it to yourself to read Gail Simone’s recently concluded 18 issue run on Red Sonja if you have any interest in the following: mayhem, sex, drinking, humor, fighting, magic, redheads, swords, wanton disregard for manners, or general debauchery.  But the best thing about Simone’s She-Devil with a Sword is her cunning – this Sonja is nobody’s pin-up.  If she’s going to wear a chainmaille bikini, or dive into a brawl, or not use a coaster (gasp! pearl-clutch!), Sonja has her reasons.  By framing Red Sonja’s rowdy, randy behavior as serving her own interests, rather than mere titillation, Simone gives readers a complex protagonist and a series that invites many re-reads to come.  

You can get Red Sonja, and any other Dynamite comic published before 12/30/15 for 50% off by using the code NEWYEAR at checkout!

Tia Vasiliou is a digital editor at comiXology.  She crushes her enemies, sees them driven before her, hears the lamentation of their women.

emmotive  asked:

What is the meaning of life?

Conan! What is best inlife?“ “To crush your enemies – See them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women!”

Has anyone actually ever seen Conan the Barbarian? 

But in all seriousness I don’t think there is a meaning of life. I don’t think there is some 100% universal meaning that would work for every single individual. 

My meaning of life is to find the truth in things as best as I can. Try to sort out all the contradictions in my life, philosophy, and existence. If I can do that I will say I’ve lived a pretty good life while trying to exemplify it in my everyday life as well. 

INTJ-INTP, Edition 6
  • INTJ: Do you get bored easily?
  • INTP: Yes
  • INTJ: Well, you're not a human so you don't exactly count, but I'll ask you to be nice anyways.
  • INTP: aha wait why to I have to be nice
  • INTJ: Neither of us do, tbh. We can be heartless plunderers, crush our enemies, see them driven before us and hear the lamentations of their women

anonymous asked:

"I'm on edge! I haven't been in a battle for weeks! I long for the taste of war!" War is my profession. War is my obsession. Nothing I like better than a violent intercession. Blood must be spilled, thick enough to swim in As I hear the lamentations of my conquered foes' women. War! It's good for me! What's my name? THUNDERCLEESE ! War! It's good for me! What's my name? THUNDERCLEESE !"You want a battle? Take this!"

@sandsofchaos

Is this one of yours? He seems vaguely Greek.

“Can I name your sword?”

“No.” I pull out a pair of jeans that might fit and one sock.

“Why not?”

“Already has a name.” I continue digging through the pile for the matching sock.

“What is it?”

“Pooky Bear.”

His friendly face suddenly becomes serious. “You’re naming your collector’s-item, kick-ass sword that’s made to maim and kill, specifically designed to bring your ginormous enemies to their knees and hear the lamentations of their women–Pooky Bear?”

“Yeah, you like it?”

—  World After by Susan Ee
Fae Folk

Alvens: These are Water faeries who float around on bubbles and hate fish. During a full moon, they come on land to dance and play. They are not particularly friendly.

Amadan Dubh: This is a particularly dangerous type of faery that is greatly feared among the Gaels. They are known as the “fairy fools,” and the bringers of madness and oblivion. They play faery enchantments on their reed pipes on hilly slopes and precipices after sunset.

Banshee: The name “banshee” means a woman of the faery. It corresponds to the “Fear Sidhe” or faery man. The wild banshee wanders through the woods and over the moors at dusk, and some- times lures travelers to their death. Banshee can also travel at will to great distances. Appearing in tattered gray clothes, they are basically a sociable faeries who have become solitary through sadness and grief. They are the honor- able ancestral faery women of the old clans of Ireland, who are heard, but rarely seen. They wail a blood-curdling lament just before mis- fortune, illness, or death occurs in their ancestral families. Their wail can kill or instantly age mortals who hear it. Banshee also avenge the death of their descendants. They generally appear either as beautiful maidens or gruesome crones. Salt water and silver can harm them.

Bendith Y Mamau: They have the ill disposition and ugly appearance of goblins, but the glamour of the faeries. Living in underground caverns, they don’t care very much for mortals and they have been know to steal cattle and children, to kill farm animals, and to break important tools.

Billy Blin: A household familiar who is popularized in English and Scottish songs.

Boggart: They are known for breaking things and making trouble, but seldom do serious harm. Most old homes have a boggart. The supernatural boggart is sly, annoying, mischievous, and a prankster. They pull the covers from sleeping mortals, rap or pound on the door at odd times, or rearrange the furniture at night when you are sleeping.

Brownie: They are from 1 to 2 ft. tall and are scattered throughout the highlands and lowlands of Scotland as well as the northern counties of England. They have brown, wizened faces and hair growing all over their body, so they don’t need to wear clothes (although sometimes they are seen wearing brown cloaks with hoods). As household faeries, they do unfinished jobs such as mowing, threshing, caring for the laying hens, and tending the sheep and cattle. They bring good luck to a family, providing that the family treats the brownie well. Brownies also love animals and will take care of the household pets. They adore gifts of food and drink such as milk and honey cakes, but abhor gifts and wages. Urisks are the Scottish version of brownies.

Buccas: Residing in Cornwall, they are magickal beings that inhabit mines. Also called tinmine demons, they are the wind goblins that foretell shipwrecks.

Bwca: This is a sort of Welsh version of a brownie, but a more particular one. They can be great help around the house, but if offended they can become harmful, throwing things around the house, spoiling the milk, and ruining the beer.

Callicantzaroi: Naked, they ride about on chickens. They live in troops and are zealous in their celebrations of Yule.

Clim: A mischievous goblin that resides in chimneys and peeks out at children, scolding them when they are bad.

Clurichaun: Residing in southwest Ireland, they are renowned drunkards who both guard and raid wine cellars. The Clurichaun sing in Gaelic and have beautiful, magickal voices.

Coomlaen: These “elven steeds” appear as tall, thin, white or silvery horses who live in the forest and are always in the company of elves. As shapeshifters, the coomlaen can take the shape of their de- sires, but must return to the shape of a horse once during each day for at least six hours. They are fiercely devoted to one rider at a time and the bond lasts for the lifetime of the rider. The two communicate telepathically. Because the Coomlaen defends its rider, in order to befriend a coomlaen you must first befriend its rider. Coomlaens adore gifts of apples and honeysuckle. Iron is harmful to the coomlaen.

Cooshie: Also known as the “elfin hound,” they live in the forest and appear as large, silver-furred wolves that move quickly with the grace of a large cat. The cooshie stay with their elfin masters, and have heightened senses, including knowing when there is any magickal, spiritual, or physical presence in their territory. Like elves and coomlaens, they have an aversion to iron. Cooshies can heal sick or injured travelers and calm troubled minds and hearts.

Corrigans: From Brittany and Cornwall, they live in the woods, near streams. Corrigans are winged faeries who like to play pranks, such as taking human babies and replacing them with changelings.

Daoine Sidhe: The immortal polytheistic group of goddesses and gods of Pagan Ireland who merged with the land, these are the cream of the crop of faeries that form a faery nation. They appear in human form, dressed in green, and are called the peaceful faeries. They preside over the faery kingdom, play sweet music, dance, ride milk-white faery horses, and are generally accompanied by their faery hounds.

Dryad: They are happy, friendly, and playful wood nymphs who live in and take care of the trees. They are born of the same seed as the place they live. Dryads are the color of tree bark or leaves and their dark green hair is extremely long and flows about them. They can disappear by stepping into a tree, as if stepping into a dimensional door. Sometimes their skin is dappled like a tree trunk. Dryads are usually very charm- ing, sing beautifully, and particularly like willow and oak trees. Damaging a dryad’s tree harms the dryad as well, but the dryad can defend its tree by creating storms and lightning.

Dwarfs: Both male and female, dwarfs are usually from 3 to 5 ft. tall, with broad shoulders, large muscles, long arms, stumpy legs, and lots of facial hair. They are quick tempered, loyal, and immune to physical damage. Working with Earth, Fire, and stone, they are found underground under moun- tains and hills where they mine metals and gems, especially copper. Their craftsmanship is unmatched in the mortal world. They adore gifts of both precious metals and gems.

Eash Uisge: They are the Highland water horses known for being fierce and dangerous. They have the ability to shift into the shape of young, hand- some men.

Elves: According to Norse mythology, elves and dwarves are created in the time before humans from the body of Ymir, the giant. Inhabiting one of the upper worlds, and often found in Natural settings such as woodlands and forests, elves are somewhere between mortal and divine. Originally between 5 and 7 ft. tall, they were thin, strong, flexible, and quick. Their hair was usually red, blond, or light brown, and they had cat-like ears. Their cat-like eyes are green, blue, silver, or gold with slitted pupils. Through time, the elves became Elemental spirits of the land, sea, and forest, who are sometimes por- trayed as small, good-natured creatures with brown skin and delicate features. Iron does not kill elves, but it can injure them. They adore gifts of quartz crystal, pearl, moonstone, and silver. In the Western world, Santa Claus and his helpers are elves.

Ferrishyn: The Manx name for the faeries, also known as the “sleigh beggey.”

Fir Dearg: Also known as the “fear darrig” or the “red men,” they are a mischievous, rare breed of faery, who dress in red and have red hair. Their only interest seems to revolve around playing practical jokes on humans.

Ganconer (Gean-canogh): Also known as a love faery, the ganconer is a leprechaun-type faery who appears as an incredibly handsome young male. Called the “lover-talker,” he spends most of his time seducing milkmaids and shepherdesses. Appearing in lonely valleys and fields, they are known for playing beautiful songs on their pipes, but their fate is ultimately to be alone.

Gnomes: They are elderly dwarf people who stand from 1 to 2 ft. tall, and like dwarfs, live under- ground except for the few times when they come up to roam in the deep forest. Male gnomes grow long beards. Gnomes live under old oak trees in heavily forested areas, and like gifts of beautiful stones.

Gray Elves: Not choosing to associate with any other magickal beings, they live in isolated meadow- land. Gray elves have either silver hair and amber eyes, or pale, golden hair and violet eyes. They are very intelligent and extremely rare.

Gwartheg Y Llyn: The Welsh name for faery cattle, said to be usually milk-white in color. A farmer who gained the favor of this magickal cow was said to be richly rewarded, but the farmer who tried to lift a hand to hurt the animal would find misfortune would come to the farmer.

Gwradedd Annwn: The Welsh name for the “lake maidens,” they are beautiful and desirable, but are not like sirens and nixies. They are known for marry- ing mortals much like the Silkee or “seal maidens.”

Hobgoblins: They are the English cousins to the Scottish brownie and Welsh bwca. A house faery, a hobgoblin’s favorite place is behind the kitchen fire, once known as a “hob.” Once settled, they rarely leave the house, and when feeling ne- glected, they are known to hide keys in the most unlikely places. They are vulnerable to iron and gold. In folklore and literature, both Robin Goodfellow and Puck are hobgoblins.

Knockers: In Cornwall, they are generally helpful mine sprites that are particularly attracted to rich veins of ore. Miners of old were said to follow the sound of the knockers’ tools pounding the rocks to find a strike. Knockers are also known to warn against cave-ins and floods, and as such, the miners always leave them gifts of food and drink. In Wales, knockers are known as “coblynau.”

Kobold: The German name for the “little people,” originally they were tree sprites who were captured and brought home in wooden boxes. The per- son who captured the kobold could open up the box and the kobold would do things for her or him. But if anyone else opened the box, the kobold would take revenge for being confined. They formed the basis for the original jack-in- the-box for children. They are old men the size of small children who wear pointed hoods or caps and green clothing. Loud noises and strong winds scare them. For gifts of food and milk left out at night, they will do any little job around the house and barn, such as washing the dishes, preparing meals, sweeping the floor, making the fire, or tending the farm animals. Kobolds also have the ability to cast binding spells and will go to great efforts to protect the members of the household. If mistreated, they can become truly nasty.

Leanhaun (Leanan) Sidhe: They are the faery mistresses or sweethearts of Scotland and Ireland. They crave love, and try to gain power over their lovers, treating them like slaves and draining all the life out of them before moving on to new lovers. Said to be an inspiration to poets and musicians, these magickal faeries act as sort of muses, giving the artist’s work an otherworldly quality.

Leprechauns: They usually manage to trick their way out of surrendering their gold. Only a select few get away with a leprechaun’s riches. Solitary faeries of Ireland, witty, fascinated with gold, they can pass by as a swirl of dust, knocking off your hat. They are generally 2 to 3 ft. tall, with wizened faces, bright eyes, and red noses. They dress mainly in greens and browns, and are known for their excellent shoe-making skills.

Lorilei: A solitary faery, who is beautiful and bewitching, she is known for lounging on rocky heights while singing a song of enchantment.

Lunantishee: They guard the blackthorn bushes particularly on Samhain and Beltane. If you cut a stick from the bush on either one of those days, you will suffer misfortune.

Mermaids/Merrows: They live in the airy palaces be- neath the waves. They wear red-feathered caps to swim from their underwater world to ours. If a mortal steals the cap, the merrow can’t get back home. The females are beautiful, the males are ugly with green faces and red pig noses. Both have fish tails and webbed fingers. Taking mortal lovers, their offspring are covered with scales.

Muryans: Cornish faeries, the word “muryan” means “ant.” These are faeries the size of ants, who are shapeshifters. Every time they shift shape, they get smaller, eventually getting so small, they disappear from sight.

Nixie: They are Water sprites that inhabit lakes and seldom venture onto land. Their houses are made from seaweed and are guarded by giant fish. They are known for charm spells that convince humans to do their bidding.

Nymphs: Nature spirits who evolved into faeries, they live in clear lakes, streams, and crystalline caverns. Intelligent and beautiful, they do not like intrusion, but will be friendly if approached by a good-hearted mortal. Nymphs have the power of prophecy and take mortal lovers. They are also said to be extremely hard to avoid once they have taken an interest in you, and can occasionally be dangerous if they become obsessed with you. Often traveling in pairs, nymphs are mobile, but they can also permanently align themselves with trees, rock outcroppings, mountains, rivers, and springs. They appear as young, extremely gorgeous women, who are frequently dancers, artists, and musicians. They are amorous and have insatiable sexual appetites. According to folklore, a nymph’s lifetime was the same as that of the phoenix, who outlived nine ravens, who out- lived three stags, who outlived four crows, who outlived nine generations of aged mortals.

Oakman: A wood faery who lives in oak trees, the oakman is a guardian of the animals. The familiar saying “faery folks are in old oaks” speaks of their kind. The oak is considered the tree of the dead and the abode of departed spirits. Oakmen resemble drawfs with red noses, wear red toadstool caps, and have an affinity with bluebells.

Pechs (Pehts): The name used for the faeries of the Scottish Lowland, Pechs are said to be like the feens of the Highlands and the trows of Shetland.

Phouka (Pooka): Originally deadly sea horses with glossy coats and metallic-like hooves, phoukas are now often viewed as wild, mischievous creatures who are related to the leprechaun. Phoukas can employ the shape of an animal in order to play wild pranks and kill mortals. In contrast, in some stories that are told about them, phoukas that are treated kindly are known as friendly beings that help farmers.

Piskies (Pixies, Pigsies): Found frequently in Cornwall, Devon, and Somerset, England, they stand 1 ft. high (or smaller), are slim, and wear green clothes and pointed red hats. They have blond hair and green eyes, pointed ears and chins, and turned- up noses. They can also levitate and move tiny objects from one place to another. Usually friendly, they can also be mischievous, and are known to steal horses and ride them around in circles, creating Faery Rings as they do.

Portunes: These are teeny tiny faeries that are about a finger’s length or less in size.

Redcaps: They live in castles and towers where evil deeds have been done so they can feed off the energy and create more of their own. They look like brownies, but wear caps made red by the blood of passing strangers at whom they have thrown stones.

Salamander: They are the powerful Spirit faeries of Fire because the salamander embodies the in- tuitive Element of Fire. Without the salamander, Fire would not exist. They come in all sizes and differ in appearance, but they are most often seen as being similar to a 1-ft. long lizard. They can grow larger or smaller at will. Sometimes they are seen as a ball of gold, orange, or red light. They are very devoted and quick to defend a friend. Working with the salamander helps you develop and strengthen your intuitive side.

Seelie: A good-hearted and benevolent group of faeries who glow as they ride the winds in search of humans needing help. The court of the kindly faery host is called the “Seelie Court.” “Seelie” means “blessed” in Gaelic. These benevolent faeries give gifts of bread and seed corn to the poor and pro- vide all kinds of help to their favorite mortals.

Sheoques: Appearing human-like, they live in ancient thorn bushes and faery forts that are surrounded by ditches. Also known for their bagpipe playing, they enchant and steal children, most times returning them unharmed and happy.

Shock: They appear as a horse, donkey, large dog, or calf. They are frightening and something to get away from if, by chance, you encounter one.

Sidhe: The word means “people of the faery mounds.” A distinction is often made between the “sidhe” who are seen walking on the ground after sunset, and the “Sluagh Sidhe,” the faery host who travel through the air at night and are known to abduct mortals. There are also guardian “sidhe” associated with the lakes of Ireland and Scotland. These distinct categories of “sidhe” beings tie in with the testimonies of seers who divide the “sidhe” into Wood spirits, Water spirits, and Air spirits, i.e., the Elemental spirits.

Sidhe Draoi: Gaelic for “faery druids,” folklore says that they took their name from the faery nymphs who taught them the magick of the trees. They are related to dryads.

Silkee: Usually found in seas and oceans, silkee first appear as seals, but become beautiful women when they shed their skin. They use their seal- skin to move from their world to this world. If their skin is taken from them, they can no longer move back and forth.

Sithich: Active Highland sprites known for being mischievous and having weapons that do their bid- ding, they are dexterous, child abductors, and intrude on women during childbirth. Their weapons are made of stone, shaped like a barbed arrowhead, and thrown with great force like a dart.

Sirens: They are Greek sea nymphs. The sirens’ enchantingly beautiful song entices sailors, leading them to their death.

Skillywidden: Small, young faeries who cannot shift their shape or alter their size.

Sleigh Beggey: The Manx name for the faeries.

Slievegallion: Known as the “hosts,” they are the spirits of mortals who have passed on into the otherworld. They fly about in great clouds, up and down the landscape. On clear, frosty nights they can be seen, and heard, fighting their battles in the air. They sometimes put mortals

Slyphs: under their spells to help fight their battles. Living for a thousand years without seeming to age, they are beautiful, changeable crea- tures that parallel nymphs, only they exist in the Element of Air. Living on the tops of high places such as mountains and cliffs, slyphs vary in size, are winged, transparent, elusive, and surrounded by a glowing radiance. For a very brief time, they can take on human form. They move by floating about with the wind, and as such, are known as the Spirit faeries of the Air. They inspire mortals, especially those individuals involved in the creative arts.

Spriggans: They guard the treasures of other faeries. Spriggans are ugly and dour, standing stone sprites that are said to have come over from Brittany where they are known as “korreds.” Folklore suggests that they brought the origi- nal standing stones to Cornwall. They can be seen around old ruins, standing stones, bar- rows, giants’ quoits and castles, and places where treasure is buried. They bring blight to crops, whirlwinds over crop fields, and storms. Spriggans are the ghosts of old giants, who appear small but can become gigantic at will.

Sprites: Very shy, delicate, and reclusive, sprites are winged spirits that dwell in meadows and wood- land glens. There are many types of sprites, depending upon their Element. Fire sprites are very rare. As William Shakespeare describes them in The Tempest, “Sprites are spirits: they do not have bodies as fairies do.” They adore gifts of nuts, acorns, and sweet treats, and love to be flattered by mortals.

Trolls: Originally supernatural beings in Scandinavian folklore, later they became huge ogres with great strength and little wit. Trolls are known for guarding castles and treasure, hunting in packs in the deep forest, and being deadly to mortals. They can outrun any mortal. Fire and sunlight will harm them. Never try to befriend one.

Trows: They are the Shetland Island version of trolls. They live in caves near the ocean or in sandy hillsides. Thought to be somewhere between dwarfs and giants, trows are dimwitted, un- friendly, and ugly. Sunlight turns them to stone or makes them explode. The Scottish Highland name for trows is Feens or Fians.

Undines: As Elemental Water spirits usually found within forest pools, waterfalls, marshlands, rivers, lakes, and riding the ocean waves, the beautiful voices of the undines can sometimes drift above the sound of the water. They inhabit underwater caves, river banks, and lake shores. They are able to influence the flow of water in streams, rivers, lakes, and oceans, as well as the plants that grow in and under the water. Undines can appear human-like and are generally shy, but friendly. Peaceful, graceful, and attractive, their skin shimmers blue-green, green, or aqua like the water. The undines are ruled by love and adore gifts of sweet-smelling perfumes.

Unseelies: They are dark, malevolent faeries, who have excessive pride, are unkind, and have malicious ways. In contrast to the seelie court, the unseelie court is one of the malevolent faeries, who are hostile and harmful. Stay away from them and do not engage them in any way.

Water Sprites: They are closer to the traditional concept of a mermaid, and are the marine counterparts of leprechauns.

Wight: A supernatural being or creature that is very hardy. Every tree has a wight who is its guardian. An old Scottish verse says, “If you call me blessed wight, I’ll be your friend both day and night.”

Kyouko: What is the true meaning of Christmas?

Nagisa: Presents!

Kyouko: No.

Nagisa: Cheese!

Kyouko: Warmer but no.

Nagisa: CHEESE PRESE-

Kyouko: Can someone else please answer?

Madoka: Spending time with your family and friends and-

Kyouko: Even more wrong.

Madoka: Even MORE wrong?!

Kyouko: Come on guys, true meaning of Christmas! It’s not that hard!

Homura: It’s a trick question because Christmas is just mindless consumerism and-

Kyouko: Who invited Little Miss Sunshine here?

Homura: ……No one.

Homura: ((Cries))

Kyouko: Moving on, true meaning of Christmas.

Mami: Is it to crush your enemies, see them driven before you and hear the lamentations of their women?

Kyouko: ….What?

Mami: Nothing.

Sayaka: Uh, I’m guessing the true meaning of Christmas has something to do with Jesus?

Kyouko: Who?

Sayaka: ….Aren’t you a preacher’s daughter?

Kyouko: OBVIOUSLY the true meaning of Christmas is about the food!

Kyouko: AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, WHY IS IT I’M NOT EATING ANY RIGHT NOW?!

4

3x04 Aperitivo

Hannibal [book] - Chapter 9: Mason Verger speaks with Clarice Starling

“I have immunity, Miss Starling, and it’s all okay now. I’ve got a grant of immunity from Jesus, I’ve got immunity from the U.S. Attorney, I’ve got immunity from the DA in Owings Mills, Hallelujah. I’m free, Miss Starling, and it’s all okay now. I’m right with Him and it’s all okay now. He’s the Risen Jesus, and at camp we called him The Riz. Nobody beats The Riz. We made it contemporary, you know, The Riz. I served Him in Africa, Hallelujah, I served Him in Chicago, praise His name, and I serve Him now and He will raise me up from this bed and He will smite mine enemies and drive them before me and I will hear the lamentations of their women, and it’s all okay now.” He choked on saliva and stopped, the vessels on the front of his head dark and pulsing.
Starling rose to get a nurse, but his voice stopped her before she reached the door. “I’m fine, it’s all okay now.”