#Defence of the Realm Act

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1918 – Almost the entire leadership of Sinn Féin are arrested. 150 were arrested on the night of 16–17 May and taken to prisons in England.

#OTD in 1918 – Almost the entire leadership of Sinn Féin are arrested. 150 were arrested on the night of 16–17 May and taken to prisons in England.

During the last year of the First World War, on the night of 17/18 May, over 70 leading members of Sinn Fein were arrested under the terms of the Defence of the Realm Act. The arrests had been made following the discovery of a supposed plot on the part of Sinn Féin to help Germany enter Ireland. This “German Plot” is generally believed to have been used as an excuse to intern the leaders of Sinn…

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#Birmingham #Defence of the Realm Act #Durham #England #Germany #Gloucester #Holloway #Ireland #Lincoln #Michael Collins #Prison #Reading #Republicans #Sinn Fein #The German Plot #The National Pledge #WWI

[winterprince601]

"he was never unfaithful to robert, was he?" - jaime, acok

ha. ha ha ha. the irony of this line is incredible. what's so striking to me is how one dimensional the realm's understanding of eddard stark as an honourable man is - honour itself is an incredibly complicated and unattainable ideal in asoiaf and i think ned as the stereotypical emblem of it encompasses many of the reasons why. because whilst he absolutely does consider acting in a conventionally honourable way important, he always prioritises those he loves. he defended cat's actions as his own without a second thought when she arrested tyrion. his main priority in king's landing is to see his daughters safe, not to secure the succession. lyanna is the prime example: jon's existence is not the result of the lapse of honourable ned stark, it was honourable ned stark choosing his love for his sister over his duty to his king. that and his personal ethical belief that the political murder of a child is never morally acceptable.

no one in the realm has the insight into his personality we get in the first book. none of his children, vitally, understand that he would always prioritise their safety over any honourable scruples. all of the starklings question what their honourable father would think of their actions - killing in self-defence, marrying jeyne westerling, sleeping with ygritte to name a few examples - without recognising that ned's true first priority was always his family's safety.

in fact, he betrayed robert far more than he ever betrayed cat and he would have betrayed honour for his family's safety every time.

#eddard stark #ned stark #i count dany and ned's resistance to her assassination as a betrayal as well btw #because not only was this a moment in which her killing could be contrived as honourable and ned said no thanks acc #but he was absolutely projecting his love for jon onto her #he could not stand by if it was his innocent son/nephew #asoiaf #a song of ice and feels #jon snow #arya stark #house stark #asoiaf meta #catelyn stark #robb stark #catelyn tully #jaime lannister #acok #robert baratheon #i could write a whole post on honour in got alone #and one day i probably will #jon is particularly afflicted with oh god what would my dad say #bestie if you have to sleep with ygritte and play turncloak to survive HE WOULD WANT YOU TO SURVIVE #he didn't make that promise to fold over some thousand year old irrelevant vow

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: The Knights of St. Kazvarin

There's pious and selfless devotion, and then there's whatever these weirdos have going on

Riding forth from their brooding fortress-abbey to do the will of a long dead holy man, these inscrutable warriors have long been the subject of rumour and suspicion. It's not an undeserved reputation, as apart from looting tombs for ancient relics or ominously observing the goings on of the common folk these forboding knights are most often acting as the hired muscle for unscrupulous nobles who have no regard for the legality or virtue of the orders they enforce.

Far more than mercenaries with a patina of piousness, the Knights use these contracts to fund a secret and sinister endeavour that they have undertaken for centuries.

Adventure Hooks:

While delving through a dungeon the party follow a trail of slain monsters to a gravely injured knight and his thoroughly overwhelmed young squire. The boy will introduce them as Tilaen and Ser Darrik respectively and ask for their aid in tending to his master's injuries, before the dour Knight chides him for speaking on his behalf and tells the party to be about their way. Ser Darrik wants no help from "the faithless" and is willing to use the last of his strength to get violent about it. If cooler heads prevail, the party will learn that the two were after a rare manuscript hidden somewhere within the dungeon, and the offer of collaboration might be explored. If the party don't help, they'll find the squire waiting for them at the dungeon's entrance, requesting their help to bury his master and guide him back to their order's abbey. It's only after a few days of travelling together will realize that Squire Tilaen is muchabused by his sect, and that steering the boy away or outright adopting him might be the real kindness.

Acting as a stern and imposing shadow to whatever asshole noble or callous merchant the party have recently pissed off, the towering and always helmed Ser Gelceiras has "Bossfight" written all over him. However when the adventure's final confrontation looms the party find him cleaning off his massive axe, his employer's head in a bloodsoaked bag waiting to be delivered to them. "We got what we wanted from him" he rumbles as he exits, " you can have what's left. no hard feelings."

Just a new threat encroaches on the settlement, a mace wielding bruiser in burnished armour rides up and pledges to fight alongside the party in its defence. Ser Portia's skill as a fighter is sorely needed, perhaps enough to overlook whatever agenda it is that drew her to the settlement in the first place. Shortly after the final battle is fought and the dust clears, the party will realize Portia is nowhere to be seen... having escaped sometime during the aftermath after inexplicably kidnapping one of the locals.

Background: Before he was a sacred corpse, Saint Kazvarin was a necromancer of great talent, having dedicated his life to the study of thanatology and the many loopholes around death. This earned him great renown and wealth in his day, amazing the masses with seances while charging the powerful dearly for cut-rate resurrections. He amassed generous patrons and fanatical followers, only to have it all fall apart when the Raven Queen took an interest.

Kazvarin had and constructed his own bootleg afterlife, a place where his most loyal followers would rest forever in glory before being called back in time of greatest need. Atleast that was the sales pitch, in reality the "saint" had stopped just short of lichdom delving into the shadow to create a demiplane where his own soul would reside undeminished after death, sustained by the faith of his followers as the realm hollowed them out.

Such villainy inevitably created it's own downfall in the form of a young woman who's family were taken in and exploited by Kazvarin's cult. Though her name was not recorded by history, she was marked by the Duskmaven for greatness when she swore to tear down the saint who would conquer death, years later succeeding along with some allies in not only killing the necromancer but cursing him with a most ironic fate. Denying him the afterlife he had so meticulously constructed, the raven queen cursed Kazvarin with reincarnation, forcing his soul to live out a new life where it would forget all he knew and be remade.

It would have been a perfect punishment had the Saint's followers not been so fanatical. Though their organization had been shattered by their "benevolent" leader's apparent assassination, the most loyal of his inner circle poured through his research, finding the spells nessisary to seek out his soul in its new vessel. Thereafter they engaged in a grim hunt, crossing the realms to ritually sacrifice the youth their leader had grown into and pulling free his undigested soul. This is the cycle Kazvarin's followers have been following for generations, spending decades hunting for signs of their leader's return before using murder and necromancy to forcibly deincarnate him. Thereafter Kazvarin has a few months or years to act freely before he is swallowed back up by the tide of souls and the hunt begins again

Future Adventures:

Though they begin as a comparatively minor oddity, the knights become a true threat to the campaign as soon as they figure out who Kazvarin's current incarnation is and manage to wrest his soul out. Ideally this should be someone the party knows, to make it all the more tragic that they were sacrificed to bring about the villain's return.

Though it is much deminished, Kazvarin's demiplane (called the Howling Basilica) still traps the souls of those who have sworn their lives to him, acting as a vault from which he can pull rank upon rank of shadow-maddened spirits to his bidding. His most loyal retainers are allowed to keep their skills and individuality while being deprived of their will, meaning he has a backlog of highly skilled Knights just waiting for new bodies to possess no matter how many times the party defeat them on the field. What's worse is that the saint still remembers how to manipulate people with the offer of offbrand immortality, and will likely begin reaching out to powerful individuals shorty after his return.

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#necromancer #knight #villain #villain cleric #villain necromancer #villain noble #camp follower #mid level #undead #lich

[worseforwords]

Crescendo

(Alessia Russo x Reader)

Chapter III of Marshmallow

The Monday after the weekend off marked the return to training. As you locked your car door and approached the training center, your mind still replayed the events of the past weekend.

“Hi!” A sweet voice brought you back to the present. You turned around to meet Alessia’s now all-too-familiar blue eyes. “Morning Marshmallow,” you said, a half-smile playing on your lips. “So, I guess we're back to normal now, huh?” you said.

“Yeah, friends,” she replied as the two of you strolled towards the building. As you entered the changing room together, Katie let out a dramatic wolf whistle. “Well, well, if it isn’t our two lovebirds! I guess you’ve just moved in together already.”

Laughter echoed as you shot Katie a playful glare. The spotlight was on the two of you, and everyone seemed curious about the weekend’s charade. Vic decided to get straight to the point. “So, spill it. How’d it go? Your parents buy the whole lovey-dovey act?” She asked.

You nodded, trying to play down the attention. “Yeah, they bought it.” As you moved to take a seat next to Leah, Alessia found her own place, and the atmosphere in the room buzzed with curiosity. Beth couldn’t resist chiming in, “Really? You actually pulled it off?”

“Alessia here was playing the ideal daughter-in-law. Perfect performance,” you said with a smirk, earning a few chuckles. You were hoping to leave it at that, which was of course too good to be true. “So what’s the next act? Break up after a while?” Vic inquired.

Before you could respond, Alessia jumped in, “Actually, Y/N’s sister is getting married in Paris next month, and we’re going together.” Jaws practically hit the floor. “Paris!?” Katie exclaimed, clearly taken aback.

“Yeah, why not? Always wanted to go, and it’s a free trip with a friend.” Alessia said with a casual shrug. For some reason, the word ‘friend’ hit you like a sudden jolt, though you knew she wasn’t lying. You noticed yourself zoning out as the conversation continued on the other side of the room. “Hey, are you okay?” Leah suddenly asked quietly, noticing your distant expression.

“Yeah, fine,” you replied, but the truth lingered beneath the surface. You busied yourself with your shoelaces, gaze straight to the floor. “You know, I’m surprised your parents bought your little act. You’re not exactly a great liar Y/N/N,” she said as you both got up to leave the changing room, clearly not fooled by your tough act.

The rest of the month leading up to the dreaded Paris trip went by a lot faster than expected. You and Alessia seamlessly transitioned back into your roles as teammates, though there was an undeniable shift in your relationship. To everyone else, it appeared as if a new friendship was blossoming, but to you, it felt like a delicate dance between savouring your time together and avoiding getting too close.

You enjoyed the conversations you had with her and the occasional playful teasing. Yet, you set unspoken boundaries. The line between friendship and something more blurred at times, and when the teasing veered into the realm of flirtation, you found subtle excuses to distance yourself from the situation. It was a self-imposed rule, a defence mechanism to keep your emotions in check.

When the dreaded weekend arrived, it started on a high. You had won the London derby, the roar of the crowd still echoing in your ears as you and Alessia boarded the plane. An hour and a half flew by as you chatted away about the hard-fought victory. When you landed in Paris, the city of lights welcomed you with a glow that mirrored the spark in Alessia’s eyes.

Stepping into the hotel lobby, Alessia’s hand found its place on the small of your back. It was a simple yet familiar touch, a signal that the roles were back in play – girlfriends for the public eye. In that moment, a surge of conflicting emotions washed over you. The elation from the match, the allure of Paris, and the gentle touch on your back created a concoction of feelings that you knew you would have to suppress all weekend.

When you swung open the door to your shared hotel room for the weekend, you couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping as your eyes scanned the room. Soft, warm lights adorned the walls, casting a gentle glow across the room. The scent of vanilla and lavender wafted through the air, creating an atmosphere that whispered of indulgence and intimacy.

The centrepiece was a double bed, adorned with satin sheets and a multitude of plush pillows, rose petals scattered artfully across the bedspread. The suite, beyond the bedroom, featured a cozy sitting area adorned with plush armchairs and a low coffee table holding an assortment of gourmet chocolates and a bottle of champagne on ice, complementing the romantic atmosphere.

“Well, they really went all out on the couple vibes, didn’t they?” you remarked with a faint grin, glancing at Alessia. She chuckled, seemingly unfazed. “Seems like it. Guess we’ll be embracing the honeymoon suite feel.”

As you walked in, you found a little note sitting on the bedside table. “Your first romantic getaway little sis! Have fun you lovebirds. x Charlotte.” You snorted as you read it out loud to Alessia. “Typical Charlie turning her own wedding into a romantic getaway for someone else,” you remarked.

Alessia giggled as she walked up to the window, taking in the gorgeous view, whilst you found yourself staring at the double bed, only now realising its implications.

“Hm, so,” you cleared your throat. “Since they gave us only one bed...” you paused for a moment as Alessia turned around to look at you. “You can take the bed, and I’ll take the floor. I’ll go request some more blankets.”

Alessia raised an eyebrow playfully. “Come on, Y/N. We’re not twelve. If you’re okay with it, we can share the bed. If not, I’m more than happy to take the floor. Your call.”

“Yeah, sure, no big deal,” you mumbled, trying desperately to sound casual. Alessia flashed a warm smile. “Great! As long as you’re comfortable.” She looked at you in anticipation as if checking once more if it was really okay with you. “Absolutely, all good,” you replied, maybe a bit too quickly.

That night, you had planned to meet your family in the lobby for a drink, whilst Andrew, your sister’s fiancé spent some time with his own family. Alessia, charming as always, effortlessly endeared herself to your family.

The night was a success, with your parents clearly appreciating Alessia’s company. Your brother, Colin, and his wife found her delightful, and even your sister, the bride-to-be, was glad to see you with such a wonderful person—a relief, since Charlotte had a tendency to be very protective over you. Alessia’s ability to navigate through conversations, blending in with your family seamlessly, only solidified the image of her as the perfect girlfriend.

As you all left the venue, there was a warmth in the air—a promise of a beautiful wedding day and a sense that Alessia had, once again, proven her mettle in this elaborate charade. The only challenge, it seemed, was the quiet struggle within you as you continued to suppress the feelings that once again had begun to blossom. Or maybe they had never really stopped.

Later that night, your hotel room was hushed, illuminated only by the soft glow of your nightlight. You sat up against the headboard, engrossed in a book, the occasional rustle of pages filling the silence. Alessia lay beside you, already cocooned in the sheets, her rhythmic breathing like small waves washing over the stillness.

When you had first started reading, Alessia was still scrolling on her phone. Now, however, the sound of soft snores broke your mind away from the captivating narrative of your book. Your eyes wandered to where she was peacefully asleep beside you, and you couldn’t help but let a warm smile form on your face, matching the warmth you felt inside at the sight of her.

With a tender touch, you pulled the blanket further over her, shielding her exposed shoulder from the chill. But as you lingered, you found yourself entranced by the subtle rise and fall of her body with each breath. Your gaze lingered longer than intended, tracing the contours of her form.

Reality snapped back as you became aware you had been staring at your friend for minutes now. In a hurried response, you left your book on the nightstand, turned off the nightlight, and shifted your body down to let your head sink into the pillow.

You briefly stared at the ceiling, but found yourself distracted by the slightest of movements still visible from the corner of your eye as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. Fighting against the current of your emotions, you turned onto your side to face the other side of the bed.

However, even in the absence of her sight, you could feel her presence like a magnetic force against your back. With a racing heart, you stared into the black void, and when the internal struggle reached its peak, you made a decision. Quietly, you slipped out of bed, hoping not to disturb her peaceful slumber. However, Alessia, even in her sleep, seemed attuned to your movements. She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open.

“Everything okay?” she mumbled sleepily as she reached for her nightlight. You hesitated for a moment before replying, “Yeah, just can’t sleep.” Alessia, still in a drowsy state, offered a comforting smile. “Tea?” she suggested, the word accompanied by a gentle stretch.

She hardly gave you a chance to protest as she got up to turn on your hotel kettle, returning moments later with two cups of chamomile tea and a soft, sympathetic smile.

A quiet and peaceful minute later, with the cups emptied, Alessia encouraged you to lie back down. “Now turn to your side,” she added. A sense of vulnerability washed over you as you pondered which side, and you hesitated. You ultimately decided to face away from her again, knowing the possibility of feeling her breath on your face was simply too much for you.

Shortly after you moved, however, you felt an arm softly land on yours, gently wrapping itself around you. You tensed up a little at the unexpected contact, but you slowly felt your body relax as Alessia hesitantly edged closer to you. “Is this okay?” she whispered.

The gesture was unexpected, and you felt a mix of emotions. Somehow, it felt right. “Yeah,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, and she held onto you a little tighter. Had you not been as sleep-deprived, your judgment of the situation might have been different, but in Alessia’s embrace, the room seemed to still, and you gradually drifted into a more peaceful state.

The morning of the wedding greeted you with a soft glow, sunlight streaming into the hotel room. As you opened your eyes, you found yourself in Alessia’s arms, her warmth a comforting presence. The gentle rise and fall of her chest against your back momentarily lulled you into a sense of security.

However, you were quick to resist the allure of the moment. With a silent sigh, you carefully escaped from Alessia’s embrace, not wanting to disturb her peaceful slumber, and slipped into the bathroom.

After your shower, Alessia had woken up and did the same. As she occupied the bathroom, you used the mirror in the bedroom for your little morning chat with yourself. Today’s chat was more of a tirade, spoken with a stern whisper, since the main character was just a door away. You kept it short, deciding to use the time to get dressed.

Earlier this year, prompted by your sister’s wedding announcement, your family had visited to a tailor, which had resulted in a cohesive theme threading through each member’s attire. A shared fabric choice subtly connected all of you in the celebration. Opting for a suit, you added a personal touch underneath—a graceful camisole that exuded both elegance and individuality.

The jacket was expertly tailored, cinching at the waist to accentuate your silhouette. The trousers were tailored to perfection, elongating your legs in a tasteful manner. As you turned back towards the mirror, you felt a sense of confidence wash over you.

However, said confidence disappeared in an instant when a little while later, Alessia emerged from the bathroom. The sight of her took you aback as she looked nothing short of stunning. Her outfit exuded elegance and grace. She wore a floor-length dress with a fitted bodice that accentuated her figure. The colour was a soft, muted tone that complemented her skin beautifully and matched the shade of your camisole. The dress had delicate lace detailing, adding a touch of sophistication. Her hair, styled in loose waves, framed her face with effortless charm. She looked beautiful.

Moments must have gone by as you stared at her before she spoke up. “How do I look?” she asked nervously, eyes moving up from the floor to yours and a shy smile on her face.

The words caught in your throat for a moment before you managed to reply, “Absolutely breathtaking.” The sincerity in your words was undeniable, even as the underlying complexity of the situation lingered. Alessia’s smile widened, appreciating the compliment.

“You look great too,” she said, scanning your suit. “I’ve never seen you in a suit before. It’s— different,” she added. You felt your cheeks flush as every drop of confidence left your body. Different? What on earth did she mean by that?

She must have noticed your slightly somber expression when she added, “Good different, I mean. It’s— I really like it.”

“Oh, thank you,” you said shyly, a soft smile creeping its way onto your face. “So, you ready, marshmallow?” You asked in an attempt to lighten the mood and she giggled. “There’s no way you’re calling me that when I look like this,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Fine. Are you ready, beautiful?” You really meant for that to sound sarcastic but were pretty sure that’s not how it came across. “Yes I am, gorgeous,” she retorted. You extended an elbow and she quickly took the invitation, intertwining her arm with yours as you left your hotel room to meet up with your family.

The ceremony itself, while undoubtedly beautiful, proved to be a bit of a blur. As vows were exchanged and the union was sealed with a kiss, your mind occasionally drifted to the subtle touches exchanged between Alessia and you. All of them part of your charade, of course.

The reception was where the day truly came to life. The venue sparkled with twinkling lights, and soft music wove through the air, casting a dreamlike aura over the celebration. Tables adorned with delicate flowers dotted the space, and laughter echoed as guests mingled. You found yourself mostly sticking by Alessia’s side, introducing her to friends and family.

Caught up in conversation with your cousin, you momentarily lost sight of your pretend girlfriend amidst the laughter and chatter. An undercurrent of panic flitted through you until, scanning the room, you spotted her engaged in a lively conversation with your mom.

As dinner unfolded, the atmosphere transformed with each heartfelt speech. Stories were shared about Charlotte and Andrew, from their initial dislike towards each other when working together to an accidental cooler confinement that changed everything.

Eventually the microphone found its way into your uncle’s hands, who fancied himself a poet after a few drinks. “Life is like music,” he began. "We all navigate through the complex cacophony that is the world as our own melodies. But it’s when we listen to those around us that we find unexpected harmonies.”

Glancing at Alessia, you found her eyes already on you. A shy smile passed between you as you related the poetic metaphor to your own story— the harmony between you and Alessia, unexpected yet undeniable.

“It’s the unexpected that makes both music and life beautiful, but love is not just about one simple harmony,” your uncle continued. “It’s about finding a way to move your melodies in sync, with whatever tempo, pitch, or dynamics the world throws at you. Charlotte, Andrew, I can’t wait to listen from afar to the next movements of the symphony of your love.”

Cheesy as the speech was, your uncle was right. No matter how much you felt the two of you harmonise when you were together, her melody wasn’t in sync with yours. It was with someone else’s.

After dinner came the highlight of the night— the party. The crowd gathered in the grand dance hall, and the band kicked off with some casual tunes. Your sister and her newly-wedded husband valued family a lot, so they wanted you all to be part of the first dance. The newlywed couple would start with a slow song, and as it progressed, close family members would join in. Then you all would do a small routine together to another song.

The original plan was for you to share the dance with your brother, a strategy devised by your mother to prevent you from being on your own. However, with Alessia as your date, plans swiftly changed. Your mother broke the news mere minutes before the grand moment. You attempted to protest by saying Alessia didn’t know the dance. However, unbeknownst to you, when your mom had briefly taken Alessia away during the reception when you whilst chatting away with your cousin, she had quickly taught her the routine.

Nerves began to bubble within your stomach as the band’s singer instructed everyone to form a large circle, with the newlyweds taking center stage. The chosen song for the dance was “Finally // beautiful stranger” by Halsey, a bit of an inside joke as it happened to be Andrew’s ultimate guilty pleasure and a challenge for him to hold back tears.

Nevertheless, to his credit, he continued slow dancing with Charlotte, and your turn was approaching. “Are you sure about this?” you asked Alessia, who responded with a nod, extending her hand for you to hold. You complied, and she practically dragged you onto the dance floor.

Not a fan of the spotlight, your face started heating up as you felt everyone’s eyes on you. Alessia must have noticed your flustered state as she quickly directed your hands to her waist, wrapping her own around your neck. She slowly guided the two of you, swaying to the music as the band launched into the final chorus.

“Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms And I think it's finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe For me to fall”

As you looked around you, you felt your palms getting sweaty and your throat closing up. Sensing your nerves, Alessia whispered softly, “It’s okay, just look at me.”

You did as she said, and although her bright blue eyes did not make you any less nervous, her encouraging smile made you temporarily forget about everyone else’s eyes on you, hers the only pair that mattered. Alessia became your anchor on the dance floor, subtly guiding you through the steps.

As the night unfolded into a lively party, drinks flowed freely, and the dance floor beckoned. Your pretend girlfriend, being the new addition to the family, soon found herself surrounded by eager relatives, each wanting to share a toast or pull her into a dance.

You were in the midst of a conversation with your aunt when Alessia suddenly whisked you onto the dance floor. Guiding your hands to her waist once again, she inched closer, and the dance felt different from before, carefree in a way. Her hands explored your body more intimately than usual, and you decided to attribute it to the influence of alcohol and chose to savour the moment.

Just as you were becoming lost in the dance, your brother Colin’s playful interruption cut through the enchantment with a teasing grin. “Hey, lovebirds, mind if I cut in?” His comment, though light-hearted, momentarily disrupted the dance’s spell.

Another interruption followed when Alessia’s phone chimed with an incoming call. She gracefully excused herself, walking away to take the call with an apologetic smile. However, you couldn’t help but glimpse the caller ID on her screen—Dan, accompanied by a little heart emoji.

“Who’s Dan?" Colin inquired, raising a suspicious eyebrow. It seemed you weren’t the only one who had caught a quick glimpse of the screen. “He’s just a friend of Alessia’s,” you quickly replied.

“Why did she add a heart to his name?” he persisted, unwilling to let the topic go. “They’re good friends, like family almost,” you offered in explanation.

“Family? Really? Would you take a photo like that with me?” he skeptically questioned. He seemed to have gotten a better look at the screen than you had thought. “Y/N what’s going on here?”

“Nothing is going on. You’re just looking for drama, that’s what’s going on!” you retorted, shoving your brother away as you headed to the bar, eager to escape the conversation.

Fortunately, Colin didn’t follow you, and you settled onto a barstool with a glass of water to cool down. 

“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Alessia asked when she found you at the bar a little while later. “I just ran into Colin. He was being weird. All of a sudden, he was telling me I can’t hide anything from him,” she explained.

“Shit,” you muttered before pulling Alessia into the hallway and explaining your encounter with your brother. “I don’t know what to do, Less; he might be onto us.”

A hushed silence fell between you as your minds raced to find a solution. “I think I might have an idea,” Alessia suddenly broke the silence, and you looked at her expectantly.

“It’s a bit weird, but don’t freak out please,” she said and you nodded nervously, but you both jumped when Colin’s voice suddenly rang from around the corner, calling out your name.

“Shit okay, no time to explain,” she continued, turning her body towards you. Her blue eyes locked onto yours as she took a deep breath. “Y/N, can I kiss you?”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, the rush of the situation, or simply your brain short-circuiting at the question, but whatever it was, you nodded almost instantly. “Yes?” she asked, seeking assurance, a warm hand cupping your cheek as you closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

The approaching footsteps neared the corner of the hallway where you stood when you suddenly felt a pair of soft lips crash onto yours. For a moment everything around you disappeared. Your hands found her waist once more like on autopilot, and her hand moved to the back of your neck. She slowly walked the two of you backward until you felt your back connect with the cold wall behind you. The kiss was hungry and a little sloppy, nothing like how a first kiss was supposed be, yet you never wanted this moment to end.

Had your brain still been functioning you would’ve realised the heat of it all was due to Alessia trying to perform a convincing drunken make-out. But your brain had little to do with what was happening right now. For a moment, you didn’t think. You disappeared into the kiss easily, as if the two of you had done this numerous times before. Harmony. Synchronisation.

Alessia broke away from you what must have been minutes later, your brother long gone. As you felt your heart all but beat out of your chest, you wondered whether she had noticed that just moments ago when she had you trapped against the wall.

“You think he bought it?” Alessia asked, her warm breath mingling with yours as it took you a while to form an answer. 

“I would assume so,” you finally answered, only now remembering the reason behind the moment you shared.

The party continued in a blur of lights, laughter, and music, but your mind remained in a state of disarray. The hallway kiss with Alessia left you dazed and confused. What did it mean? Why did she do it? The questions swirled in your mind, each one more bewildering than the last. One thing was certain; it didn’t feel like nothing.

As the night wore on, you and Alessia eventually decided to call it a night. The world outside the grand dance hall seemed quieter, and you both made your way back to the hotel room in a companionable silence.

Once inside, the question that had been nagging at you surfaced. “Hey, about the call from your boyfriend earlier, is everything okay?”

Alessia nodded, “Yeah, it’s fine, just had a planning issue,” she explained. Curiosity brimming, you probed further, “Is he really okay with all this?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, he’s... not really the jealous type,” she finally responded. The air grew heavy as you dared to ask the question that hung in the room, “Are you gonna tell him about the... you know, thing we did earlier?”

“I guess so,” she mumbled casually. “Doesn’t really matter anyways…” Her voice trailed off, and her gaze seemed distant, as if already lost in other thoughts.

That admission hit you like a stab to the heart. It was a stark reminder of the insignificance of the shared moments, at least from her perspective. You fell silent for a while, processing the weight of her words.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Alessia’s voice was filled with concern. You forced a smile, “Yeah, all good. I’m just gonna take a shower.”

In the confined space of the bathroom, the sound of water cascading drowned the noise in your head. You let the water cleanse not only your body but also the lingering confusion and hurt. As you stepped out, Alessia was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps sensing the need for space, she’d let you be.

When Alessia returned, you were already in bed, eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. You remained still when you felt her quietly slip into the other side of the bed.

The next morning was a quiet one. You both packed your belongings and left for the airport, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words. The flight was silent, with occasional glances at each other, a mixture of confusion and hurt and still, for whatever reason, curiosity in your eyes.

Neither of you dared to broach the topic of the previous night’s events. Was it a mistake, a game, or something more? Or was it really nothing? Were you making things up? The questions lingered as the plane landed, and you shared an Uber to take both of you home.

The Uber dropped Alessia off first. As she gathered her things, she turned to you. “Hey, want to come in for a bit?” The question hung in the air, loaded with unspoken implications. You hesitated but agreed, curiosity overcoming your reservations.

Inside her place, the tension was palpable. Alessia attempted to break it with a joke, "So when’s our next performance?”

You forced a chuckle, “Don’t worry, I can come up with excuses for you for the next couple of family events, and after a few months, I’ll just tell them we broke up or something.”

Alessia’s expression shifted, sensing something beneath your words. “Is everything okay, Y/N?” She asked, a concerned look on her face as she tried to catch your gaze, which you avoided.

“Yeah, fine,” you lied. “I’m just not going to drag you to every family thing ever just because you said yes to it once. It was really nice of you to help me, but you should get to spend your time off football with your actual boyfriend.”

“Right, Dan. Y/N, I—” she started but the keys jingling in the door interrupted her. The door opened, and in walked her boyfriend.

He greeted Alessia with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and your heart sank a little as you watched, unable to shake the tinge of jealousy. You wished you could hate him, find some flaw, but he was genuinely a nice guy who had done nothing wrong. Still, you couldn’t help but wish you could recreate the intimacy you shared with Alessia just yesterday, a privilege he seemed to enjoy effortlessly whenever he wanted.

When Dan asked you if you wanted to stay for lunch, you politely declined, saying you already had plans and you excused yourself, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. 

You shut the door to Alessia’s apartment and with it your pretend relationship. Why did this fake break-up hurt so real? 

One thing was for sure, it was all your fault. And still you had a lingering feeling that this wasn’t the last chapter of this strange tale.

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

Note: Hi! Just wanted to let you all know that I love hearing what you think about the story thus far and what you would like to see happen next so feel free to leave a comment/ask/message!

-> Chapter IV

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #engwnt x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc

[y-rhywbeth2]

I can't help but feel there's a chunk of lore missing from stuff about the Bhaalists. Most of the other evil gods you can generally work out why these gods are revered; the Gods of Fury are forces of nature (the ocean is terrifying but many are enamoured with it, storms will kill you and yet storm chasing is a thing, etc), Bane represents an idea of order and strength rooted in fear that fuels real world dictatorships, etc etc

Lay worship of Bhaal makes sense - either you're praying to be spared from death or if you're going to be deliberately killing somebody (revenge, self-defence, assassination, etc) you'll pray for success/give a fucked up form of grace.

And it's not necessarily so strange that they happily call themselves evil - Realms morality is not supposed to operate like the real world, evil is a recognised cosmological force and it's accepted as being holy, whether the average person likes it or not these gods are viewed as necessary parts of the universe; they won't blaspheme against it.

But Deathbringers aren't just in this for serial killing: "every murder committed strengthened holy Bhaal", their kills are "a pastime", but they are also "a duty". Death is holy, murder is holy, Bhaal being stronger is a desirable thing, and you love and revere your Lord of Murder for more than the power and wealth his domain brings you: there is a purpose here but what the fuck is it? You want Death Itself to be a revered and powerful presence in people's lives that they should be beholden to, but why? What's the reasoning?

The plot we're given makes little sense (conquering the world for Bhaal and creating a society in his image, sure. But Bhaal is notably very, very resistant to dying - killing the world will kill him, he's not going to do that), I do like this fucked up "the material world is a prison, everything should perish and be freed of it" philosophy for them (although it's also a touch too Sharran), but the actual apocalypse plan doesn't work out. I can also see how we ended up with it because how the hell do you fill these blanks if your "justification" isn't euthanising the world?

Bhaalists usually target criminals, so there could be a vigilante element to the faith, but Bhaal doesn't actually care who gets murdered and there's nothing about that in the doctrine - and that's Hoar's deal as god of vengeance anyway (although he and Bhaal are allies).

Bhaalist doctrine appeals to the natural world - all creatures destroy life on a daily basis, it's a necessary part of the turning of the world (although we're getting a little too close to Malar, god of predation here). There could be something about some kind of duty to a balancing act between the kingdoms of the dead (Myrkul) and the living (Bane) to keep either from becoming too powerful, although that's never come up. (That one actually has in-world scriptures with the Dead Three receiving their portfolios and announcing their plans, so for lack of a sensible answer I think I'll lean on that one for my personal Realms.)

Hmmmm.

(This is what happens when you split your death gods up: we could've just had a god of death and a god of the dead in one being and we wouldn't have this issue, Jergal.)

#maybe I should break into Ed Greenwood's house and hold him hostage... #You can technically ask him questions but a) I am terminally shy and b) NDAs are a bitch so I might not get an answer #Assuming he put more thought into this than murder church #babbling #lore speculation #the idiot three #edgelord hours #long post

[zvaigzdelasas]

The IB affair (Swedish: IB-affären) was the exposure of illegal surveillance operations by the IB secret Swedish intelligence agency within the Swedish Armed Forces. The two main purposes of the agency were to handle liaison with foreign intelligence agencies and to gather information about communists and other individuals who were perceived to be a threat to the nation.[...]

The story was immediately picked up by many leading Swedish dailies.[3] Their revelations were that: •There was a secret intelligence agency in Sweden called IB, without official status. Its director Birger Elmér was reporting directly to select key persons at cabinet level, most likely defence minister Sven Andersson and Prime Minister Olof Palme. •The Riksdag was unaware of its activities. People with far-left views had been monitored and registered. •IB agents had infiltrated Swedish left-wing organisations and sometimes tried to induce them into criminal acts. •There were Swedish spies operating abroad. IB spies had broken into the Egyptian and Algerian embassies in Stockholm. •The IB co-operated extensively with the Central Intelligence Agency and Shin Bet, in contrast to the official Swedish foreign policy of neutrality.[...]

In the following issues of Folket i Bild/Kulturfront the two uncovered further activities of IB and interviewed a man who had infiltrated the Swedish movement supporting the FNL, Vietnamese National Front for the Liberation of South Vietnam - at this time the FNL support network was a backbone of the radical opinion - and among other things, visited Palestinian guerilla camps in Jordan. The man worked for IB and had composed reports that, it was surmised, IB later passed on to the Israeli security services which resulted in the camps being bombed. [...]Swedish authorities claimed they were unable to locate him to stand trial. In 2009, he released an autobiography of his years in IB[...] He also confirmed that he had been transferred from IB to the Mossad, an Israeli intelligence agency, immediately prior to his exposure.[...]

The magazine had information from a previous employee of IB, Håkan Isacson, who claimed that IB had broken into the offices of two political organizations: the FNL Groups, a pro-North Vietnamese organization, and the Communist Party of Sweden, a Maoist political party. This concerned a Jordanian citizen and a stateless citizen. A wiretap was installed in the latter case. After this uncovering, the defense minister did admit that IB engaged in espionage outside of Sweden and infiltrated organizations within Sweden, including wiretaps. Evidence was put forth in 1974 that IB had built up a large network of agents in Finland, which included the Finnish foreign minister Väinö Leskinen. This network's main mission was to gather information regarding the Soviet Union.[...]

In November 1973, Prime Minister Olof Palme denied any link between IB and the Social Democrats. However, according to the memoir of ex-security service chief P.G. Vinge, Birger Elmér had regular contact with Palme and made his reports regularly to the Social Democratic Party secretary, Sven Andersson.[...]

Jan Guillou, Peter Bratt, Håkan Isacson and the photographer Ove Holmqvist were arrested 22 October 1973[2] by the Swedish Security Service on suspicion of espionage. On 4 January 1974 each was sentenced to 1 year in prison. Bratt and Guillou were both convicted of espionage; Isacson was convicted of espionage and accessory to espionage. After an appeal, Guillou's sentence was commuted to 10 months. The Swedish Supreme Court would not consider the case.[4][...]

In 2002 an extensive public report, named Rikets säkerhet och den personliga integriteten (Security of the Realm and personal integrity), was published on the operations of IB. This report clarified the details of the case, but it did not have any legal impact. To date, no member of IB has ever been indicted, nor has any politician or government official, despite the revelation of widespread extra-constitutional and criminal activity.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Thicker Than Blood (Chapter 1) Aemond x OC

word count: 1018 words

Last part —> next part

I am reading by the fireplace when I hear a knock on my door.

"Enter." I call out.

"Hello my love." My mother enters the room.

"Mother. Are we due to have tea already?" I ask with surprise. "The time must have escaped me."

"No, it has not. I am afraid I have a bit of pressing news."

I look at her, concerned. "What is it."

"Because of the condition of Lord Corlys. The Hand is taking petitions for the inheritance of Driftmark; it seems he does not see Luke as heir."

"That is absurd." I scoff.  "How dare they question our legitimacy so openly?"

"My thoughts exactly. But we must be calm, my sweet girl." Mother brings my hands up to her mouth and places a soft kiss upon them. "Do not let them invoke anger in you, it will bring you no good."

"Yes, Mother."

"You must have your maid begin packing for the trip, I expect we will leave quite soon. And maybe you could go look upon Jace, he has not taken this deceit too well."

"Of course, I will call on Myra right away and will go see Jace. I expect he is training?"

"Yes he is. Thank you my sweet girl." My mother offers me a smile and then takes her leave.

I called upon my handmaiden and had her dress me for training. Since we have moved to Dragonstone, mother has been kind enough to allow me to learn to defend myself with the sword because of my interest in it as a child. Even though it is not proper for a lady, she has allowed me to learn alongside my brothers albeit, not as much as they do.

"You must begin packing as well." I inform Myra. "We leave for King's Landing soon, likely in less than a fortnight."

"Yes, Princess." She nods. "You have not been back to King's Landing for quite some time. I expect that you are excited to see Prince Aemond again."

The mention of his name irks me. Aemond has not sent me a letter since his thirteenth nameday.

"You forget yourself." I say, curtly and brush her hands off to finish buttoning my tunic myself.

"My apologies, Princess. It was not my place."

"No, it wasn't." I say.

I grab my sword and walk out of my chambers, heading down to the beach. I will apologise later for snapping at her.

When I arrive at the beach, I see Lucerys and Jacaerys sparring. Jace not letting up as he relentlessly attacks Luke, letting out all his anger upon him.

"Maybe you could let up on him a little bit, brother?" I ask Jace as I approach them closer.

They both stop at the sound of my voice as their attentions fall upon me.

"Let up? Do you want me to go easy on him or something?" He asks in response.

"No, I just wish you would see when it's time to stop."

"I know when to stop."

I look to Lucerys.

"Could you please give us a moment Luke? You have trained well and must be tired."

"Yeah." He says and gives me a tight-lipped smile.

I watch him walk away and then turn back to Jace, who has a look of annoyance on his face.

"Stop being such a brat." I say as I lift up my sword to indicate that I am ready to go against him.

"I am not a brat." He retorts and swings his sword against mine.

"Then why do you act like one." He strikes at me again, glaring.

"I don't. If anyone is a brat it's you." I raise an eyebrow at him.

He continues to swing at me aggressively, leaving me on defence. I let him because I know his anger needs to be let out.

"They won't succeed. The greens I mean. Luke is heir and Mother will force them to see that."

"But just the entertaining of it leads to speculation of our lineage."

"Let them talk."

"That is your solution?" He swings so hard that the sword flies from my hand. "To let them spread filth about our family." He points the tip of his sword to my throat.

"I suppose. You will be the King one day, the most powerful man in the realm. Talk is only talk. You will know when it becomes more." I push the blade of his sword away with me hand and he seems to calm down.

"You're right, but i'm just so angry with them. They have no right to challenge us like this."

"You're allowed to be angry but don't allow it to eat you up inside. Thank you for at least speaking to me about it, it's good to express these feelings through words." I walk over to him and take his hands in mine.

"I'm sorry for how I spoke to you." He looks down so he will not meet my eyes.

I bring his hands up for a kiss, in mimic of how our mother does and he looks back up to me with a blush on his cheeks. I offer him a soft smile.

He will be a good king. One with the ability to rule with kindness.

"You're forgiven."

I take his arm and link it with mine so we can walk back inside. Our footsteps fall heavy as the sand slows us. He places a gentle kiss to my forehead.

It is typical in Targaryen custom to marry the firstborn daughter to the firstborn son and since we have left King's Landing, the idea of being wed to Jacaerys has become more and more real. I would be more than happy with him, my sweet, handsome, kind brother. It helps also that with him, I will be queen.

Aemond would not make me a queen.

I scold myself silently for even thinking of him. Why do I think of him when I hang on my near perfect brother's arm?

Mother must suggest it to us soon. I know she will because everyone expects it, our betrothal is all but official. That is what my future holds, a happy marriage with Jacaerys and the crown of a queen on my head.

"What are you thinking about? You look so lost in thought." He smiles down at me, softly.

"Nothing of importance." I say, smiling back at him and we leave it at that.

taglist: @valeskafics

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond x oc #aemond fic #hotd #hotd fic #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond fanfiction

[thetruearchmagos]

On 'Energy Crystals'

Copying this over from a worldbuilding write up I posted on Discord!

Tagging @athenswrites @theprissythumbelina @hessdalen-globe @caxycreations @moremysteriesthantragedies @avrablake @thatndginger

While Energy Crystals are a very modern innovation, the pursuit for a crystal based means of high density energy storage is probably as old as the use of crystals in any of their myriad forms.

To skip the deep dive, 'magic crystals' operate through the highly ordered nature of their composition, a structure which extends beyond the three dimensions of the physical plane and which allows them to warp and rend the very fabric of the Underlay, that little understood realm of energy which permeates existence. In order to 'activate' their properties, however, energy in some form or another has to be supplied, 'forcing' the crystal's internal structure into the needed to act against the oppressive forces of the Underlay; heat, in the past, and these days truly massive amounts of electricity for the most intense applications.

A long noted characteristic of these crystals, however, has been their 'lag'. This effect describes the tendency for crystals to retain a small, rapidly decreasing degree of their powered properties even after their external energy source has been removed. The various physical characteristics of the crystal itself influences the degree of this lag, sheer size chief among them, which has at times been both a blessing and a curse for those using crystals for technical applications.

Still, it is not too difficult to see how a crystal's potential to retain energy might be a useful quality in and of itself. Various bodies have long attempted to harness this characteristic, but to little avail: having spent so long making crystals which efficiently utilised every scrap of energy fed to them to the fullest, it was very hard indeed to make one that would use no energy at all. Most interested parties would thus quickly decide to cut their losses early.

It would take modern developments in the field of micro-crystals and electrical-gate crystals to crack the problem. In the former field, a greater understanding of the internal structures of crystals at the most minute scale gave crystal forgers insight into the causes of crystal lag, and how crystals converted their input energy into work. The latter field was the result of the ability for crystals to act as incredibly efficient electrical conductors, leading to their application in the still nascent electronics and computing machine sector. Here, of course, understanding the interaction between crystal structures and electricity was key, as was minimising the 'waste' of a crystal's energy to activate the sorts of properties that in the past were their reasons for existence.

With the rise in this general understanding of just how a magic crystal worked, the secret to energy storage in crystals would be cracked in the 160s A.S. As with many technological developments, it was the United Commonwealth which would own the invention, lavishly funded from the sizeable cheque book of the Defence Consolidated Technical Establishment, whose leadership foresaw the many electricity intensive technologies poised to enter military use.

#worldbuilding #my worldbuilding #writing #writeblr #writeblr stuff

[covenofwives]

Relaxing with the Gods: Wrestling

DreamXD finally gets the upper hand over Sapnap4K. It doesn't last long, and soon XD finds himself overpowered with 4K reminding him just what happens when you step out of line.

Finally comfortable to post another fic. Woo! This is also the start of my series "Relaxing with the Gods" which is fun little fics of the three God Siblings just hanging out with one another. I have two more done and a few other ideas for the series, but this is just something fun because I love the relationship between XD, HD and 4K, and exploring it more with their favourite past time. Also pls send in any requests or ideas you'd like to see/discuss, they are always a delight to read.

This fic is also very inspired from an ask from @starshinenova. So sorry it took me so long to get back to the ask, I hope this makes up for it.

~~~

Gods had a rather straightforward system for levels of power and strength between them. Usually the older a God was, the stronger they were. Outside factors also mattered such as Gods having more of an advantage if they fought in their origin realm, and fights weren’t always determined by strength alone.

DreamXD knew that GeorgeHD was an older God, though he never showed much of his powers. HD seemed sluggish, never with enough strength, so XD maybe could have taken him. But Sapnap4K was a God of complete strength. A great sparring partner for XD, and challenge to overcome.

The favourite sparring match between the two was wrestling. Play wrestling. Most of the times it would happen when the two would meet in HD’s realm. The starry haired God would huff with annoyance at it, but he’d always lean his head up and watch.

Near every wrestling match ended with 4K winning. He’d always end up pinning the younger God and giving his ribs a few tweaks until XD tapped out. The Nether God may have acted casual but he was all muscle.

So XD’s mood was over the moon when he actually managed to pin down 4K for once. He managed to use his lower arms to trap 4K’s around his back, and used his upper arms to hold around the Nether God’s shoulder and neck to stop him wiggling. XD managed to pounce on him as 4K was kneeling down so his legs folded under him, unable to kick out.

XD was giggling almost hysterically with giddy energy. “What’s the matter 4Kaaaaay~”

“You little-!” 4K growled but he was smiling through it all.

“What was that about I’ll never get you, hmm?”

“Yohou got l-lucky!” 4K shuffled his shoulders and pulled at his arms but XD’s grip was surprisingly strong. “I’m tired is all!”

The two continued to scuffle but XD managed to keep the biggest God held down. HD chuckled from their watching position. They were laid out on their blankets, with a few of the blankets and pillows propped under their head as a lovely viewing platform. While it was fun to watch 4K actually getting overpowered for once, they knew it’d be short lived.

“You know when he gets out of there, he’s going to fuck you up.” HD pointed out.

“N-Naaah.” XD giggled. “He’ll be too tired surely…” Even the blonde’s voice didn’t really convince himself. There was a rational part warning himself that revenge was going to be coming eventually, but he was too busy basking in the glow of strength to pay it much mind.

“Lehet me up ahand find out!” 4K growled.

“Break out thehen!” XD giggled back.

The challenge was a mistake to put out. It lit something in 4K and kicked him into action. He pushed himself back against XD, making the other God push back to counter it. As soon as 4K felt the pressure he suddenly shot forward. XD wasn’t fast enough to keep his legs grounded and instead the blonde God was flipped over 4K’s shoulder and fell forward.

XD tumbled on the ground ahead, tangling himself up in his own cloak in the process. He quickly tried to right himself, wiggling and uncurling out the cloak to go on the defence. 4K still hadn’t moved, but he was shuffling and repositioning his legs to stand up. The Nether God didn’t look angry and yet that just made it more terrifying, because he had the widest smile and took one step towards XD.

“N-Nohoho!” XD couldn’t help the nervous giggles that bubbled up in his throat. He kicked his legs to shuffle himself back. “I-Ihi’m sohohorry!”

“Oh are you?” 4K’s grin only grew wider. He brought his hands up, making it a show to crack his knuckles. “I don’t think you’re sorry enough.”

“Ihihi aham!” XD scrambled back in a panic.

“Oho, you’re in trouble now~” HD teased.

At the sound of HD’s voice, XD quickly turned and darted. While trying to keep an eye on 4K, he quickly scurried behind HD. He pulled the smaller God to sit up from his laying position and hid as much as he could behind him.

“Wh-WHAHAT are yohou doing?!” HD lifted his arm to look back at XD, who was trying to pathetically hide himself in HD’s robes.

“S-Sahave mehe!” XD giggled. HD was smaller and it would have made more sense that if he was going to hide anywhere XD should have hid under the blankets. But something in him wanted to hide behind a person. To get comfort from an actual person to protect him.

Again, a mistake to go to HD.

“Wehell I can’t sahave you from him!” HD shook his robes out of XD’s hands but he was smiling widely. It was weirdly charming to see XD acting like the youngest among them and the infectious glee even swept up HD.

“N-NohOHO!” XD ducked further behind HD and grabbed around his sides. “D-Dohon’t let him nehear meee!”

“A-AHACK!” HD wiggled and his hands shot to XD’s wrists. “G-Gehet ohohoff!”

“Oh, are you defending him now?” 4K hummed as he slowly stepped closer. His hand were up and fingers wiggling in anticipation, or training. “How brave of you HD.”

“Ihihi’m nohot!” HD squeaked. He tried to jump away but XD held on tight to his sides. “LehEHET GOHOHO!”

“Noho! S-Stop him fihirst!”

The two bickered with HD struggling to pry XD’s fingers off him and 4K used that distraction to launch himself forward. HD screamed more than XD did, but that was in part due to 4K approaching and another from XD pushing him forward into 4K’s path.

The youngest God quickly scrambled to his feet and tried to dash away. He might have gotten far if his distraction work, but 4K quickly dodged out of HD’s way and headed straight for his target. He tackled into XD and the two scuffled on the ground before 4K eventually won out.

He had both sets of XD’s wrists grabbed and stretched out to the sides. XD’s legs kicked but 4K quickly solved that problem, wrapping his own legs around the End God’s waist to stop the wriggling and kicking from getting too much.

Struggling after that was rendered pointless, as XD quickly found out. They tried to pull their arms and shake their hips but they weren’t moving. XD gave up with a mix of a huff and a low whine. They risked a peek over their shoulder to see 4K’s white gleaming fangs in a wide grin. XD couldn’t hold back a giggle.

“Hi XDeeee~”

“N-Nohooo pleeeease…” XD tried to sink their head into their own shoulders, but it was near impossible to hunch their shoulders enough to hide. “I’m sohohorry…!”

“Oh you will be.” 4K’s voice growled, but it was so light and mixed a purr that it wasn’t a real threat. Well, at least not a violent one.

“If he doesn’t make you sorry for it, I will!”

XD’s ears twitched and looked up to see HD approaching the two. He looked dishevelled and a lot more grumpy than usual, and even through the thick goggles XD could feel those eyes glaring at him.

A deep feeling of doom settled at the bottom of XD’s stomach and refuse to shift. “N-Noho…” His legs shuffled and tried to kick himself away, but all it did was dig his heels into the ground and push himself more into 4K’s chest. “Na…H-HeheD! H-Help mehehe!”

“Help you?! After throwing me into his path, I should think not!” HD’s voice shrilled with disbelief and huffed.

“No! I’m-I’m sohohorry! I pahani-IHIHIK!”

A soft fluttering feeling licked up XD’s ribs to his armpit and sent a shock wave of surprise and ticklish electricity through his skin. His back arched and he looked down to see 4K’s tail poised threateningly close to his armpit.

The black velvety tail ended with a tuft of softer black fur. It flicked, almost tauntingly, so close to XD’s ribs but not touching them. When it moved up to the hollows of XD’s top armpit, the blond God squealed and wriggled.

“NO! NOhoHOHO! NoHOHOT THAHAT!” XD pleaded.

The wispy ends of the tail just traced over the edge of XD’s armpits, drawing out high giggles which were more from nerves than it really tickling. 4K could feel XD shudder and try to angle himself away but he wasn’t moving far. Certainly not when the tail dug in, flicking back and fourth over the sensitively exposed underarm.

XD kicked up instantly, arching their back and kicking their legs into the ground. They pulled and struggled but 4K’s hold was unwavering.

“Oh that must tickle a lot, XD. Look how squirmy you are!” The Nether God cooed into XD’s ear. “Your face is burning up red too!”

“STOHOP! STAHAHAP! P-PLEASE!” XD tried pulling on his arms but it was no use before the tickling and even after the tickling he felt like he had the strength of a kitten. All he could do to work out the tickly feeling running through his nerves was shake his head and kick his legs slightly.

“Oh but this is no good. You’ve got four tickly armpits and I only have one tail.” 4K sighed. “But only if…”

The tickling eased and eventually stopped, though it took longer for XD to realise. The tingling faded out with XD’s giggles, eventually letting the End God regain his breath. This meant he was fully aware to see 4K lift up his tail again. XD giggled, remembering it brushing along his skin, but the giggling quickly turned to a gasp when he watch the tail began to split apart, morphing into four separate tails. They were thinner than before but the ends were still fluffed up and soft looking.

The four tails wagged, snapping XD out of their stun and the struggling started again. “N-NOHO! NO! 4Kaahahay! Th-That’s tohoho much!”

“Oh no, too much would be maybe two tails in each of your armpits. I think this is just fine actually.” 4K grinned against XD’s neck.

The tails split and slowly made their way towards XD again. Two curled around to XD’s other side and they attacked, all four tails swirling and tickling into XD’s armpits.

XD’s laughter came out in loud howls, between his pleading for 4K to stop. He struggled and pulled near hard enough to break out of 4K’s hold, but the Nether God held strong. The tickling didn’t last as long as before, not wanting to completely overwhelm the younger God and XD calmed again with left over giggles and breathless pleading.

“Puh…plehehease. Nohoho mohohore.”

“Looks like you nearly killed him.” HD spoke up. The other God had been silently watching it all from his position and stepped closer to the two.

4K grinned over XD’s shoulder, leaning his chin over and letting the stubble tickle along XD’s skin and send him into new flurry of giggles. “You want a shot at his armpits? Little revenge for throwing you under the bus?”

“I think he’ll really die if he gets tickled there again.” HD replied thoughtfully. “However…”

XD jumped slightly when he felt a weight on his legs and watched as HD settled over his lap. Now his legs were fully trapped as well as his arms. He gave a few experimental kicks, finding them truly stuck, and then sucked in his stomach with a gasp as HD brought his wiggling fingers in closer.

“NO! F-Fuhuhuck! NO! HD plehehehease!”

“I think I’m owed a little revenge. After you so coldly used me as a body shield.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I said I was sohohorry! N-NOHOHO!”

HD dove in, wiggling their fingers over XD’s stomach and around his sides. XD threw his head back in a deep laugh, shaking his head and trying in vain to kick his legs under HD. It turned into giggles when HD focused on his hips, but then it suddenly kicked up into howling.

4K’s tail were tired of waiting, and began tickling into XD’s armpits again. XD’s face turned red, barely able to speak but eventually managing to scream out. “Stohohohop! STOP! I GIHIHIVE! GLAHAHADE! GLAHAHAHADE!”

The tails retracted from his armpits and his arms dropped heavily by his sides. HD’s hands stayed on his tummy, but they flattened his palms to rub soothingly into his stomach and sides. XD’s head fell to the side, only being held up because it had fallen into 4K’s neck. If it wasn’t for the deep purring right by his ears XD was sure he would have fallen asleep.

“You alright?” HD’s voice cut through the fog of tiredness clouding in XD’s mind.

XD only nodded. He was doing well to stave off his sleeps but HD’s hand caressed down his face and he melted into it. The starry haired God’s fingers fell down to XD’s chin, scratching under and over his jaw while 4K manoeuvred XD to lie down.

Somehow, probably due to HD’s magic, XD found himself laying over soft blankets while 4K curled around him. He was still getting scratches under his chin but now it was from HD’s ethereal hands. HD’s real hands were softly patting over XD’s stomach and sides.

“Even though you did deserve to be tickled for being such a cocky bastard, I hope it wasn’t too much.” 4K purred by XD’s ear.

XD shook his head because he couldn’t find the strength to form any words. His mouth felt heavy and it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. He got out a yawn as one of the helper hands scratched just under his jaw.

“Alright. Let him sleep.” HD pat over XD’s stomach before pulling their hand back. The ethereal hands gave a few more scratches before fading away, leaving XD’s chin feeling warm and tingly.

“I think it’s perfect time for a nap.” 4K agreed. He shuffled his arm under XD, cuddling him in closer before reaching out and tugging one of HD’s robes “You too.”

“Yeah yeah.” HD huffed but he smiled as he was pulled down and cuddled in beside XD. He rested his head over the End God’s shoulder as 4K wrapped his arm around both of them.

In their last moment of being awake, XD could feel 4K sigh softly above them and HD nuzzle into their shoulder. They felt warm, soft and very much loved.

#dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #lee!dreamxd #ler!sapnap4k #ler!georgehd

[alpydk]

AstarionxTav - Choices

Going to say now, this is very angsty. Probably some SA trauma triggers in there, but I'm honestly not sure how to use them so go in at your own awareness. Any tips and feedback are welcome as I'm really enjoying writing and would love to improve. I'll be honest a lot of this has come from me recently finishing the Astarion romance path and wishing it could have been dealt with differently. Especially from act 2 onwards.

Summary - Tav's reflection on their relationship with Astarion. Can Tav face their own trauma and allow themself to say no?

Ao3 link here

Not really. But I know it’s not what you want to hear. I know this dance all too well. The jokes, the deflection, the flirting. The use of your body to get what you want. And what is it you want this time? Company? A release? Protection from the horrors to come? I wish you’d just be honest with me, but then I know the weakness that comes with asking for help. So I won’t push you. I won’t question your actions. I’ll just nod and lose myself in you. Offer you my role in the games we will play. Both of us, a million realms away.

We will continue to travel together. I’ll offer myself to you most nights. A little blood, a small tug at your hair. A warmth we both long for but are too scared to ask for. We’ll play our parts and drip-feed our pasts. You’ll watch as I grow close to another but you won’t say a thing. You’ll lie awake at night wondering what I’m saying to him, thinking of my body pressed against his, but you won’t speak to me about it. You’ll continue to flirt, ask me about your looks, lie to me with love. But you’ll never be honest. And we will continue to dance, our bodies entwined, but our minds distant.

“If you bite me.” Her words are toxic. I feel my skin crawl. My shoulders tense and years of anger flush my cheeks. I look at you wondering what will you do. Will you submit like you used to? Like I do with you? The word no, never being able to be uttered for fear of what would happen. For fear of disappointing the other person, for fear of not being good enough, for fear of punishment. And yet right now you’re braver than me, you say no to her. No. That one little word that need not be explained. I look at you almost in shock and see the drow’s eyes on me. If you can say no, then maybe I can too.

That evening I approach you. My mind is a whirl. I know our pasts are so different and yet it seems so similar. You say you want to talk and for once I feel my defences drop. No more flirting, no more lies, you’re honest, and you confess. Easy, instinctive… I know. And I was wrong to let you use me. I should have said no from the start, I should have- Fall for you. More lies? I want us to be something real. I’m not sure but I can’t say no. I want you to be happy. I want at least one of us to heal, so I ignore my no again. I let my mind wander and tell you I care, I speak the words you want to hear hoping maybe I can believe them one day because I know that you need me. You pull me in and kiss me deeply. You need to be in control. You need to feel safe and make the choices.

We no longer lie together like we used to. Your trauma is so deep and you tell me of how you chose not to remember all the times when you gave your body away. And I respect your choice. I don’t force you. I let you kiss me and I let you say the things you do. You continue to call me beautiful in the same way you did when we met, each time my stomach turning that little bit more. You can say no, but I won’t. I’ll meet those twins and I won’t force you, instead, I’ll lose myself in them, just like I used to with you. My body being abused so my mind can rest.

You’re finally free. After all those centuries you’re free of him. Free to do what you want to do. And what you want is me. If only you had ever asked me about my past, had respected me, the way I had you. Maybe this would have played out differently. Maybe I wouldn’t keep making the same mistakes. You feel safe and seen and yet I am invisible. I say the words you want to hear. Always what you want. And in that graveyard, you take me again, just like you want to. And yet this time only one of us is a million realms away. The next morning you give me your thanks. You tell me I’m your partner, your equal. You tell me I saved you and I simply stand and smile. I’m happy for you. Happy that you are free, that you are slowly healing. And yet the kisses never change. I’m always at your mercy. Always worried you’ll discover my lie and I’ll hurt you more than anyone else ever could.

We complete our adventure and I say we could continue together and for the first time, you genuinely ask me what I want. Do I want this? I don’t. I consider saying no but I know what will come. You’ll shout, you’ll tell me about all you sacrificed, you’ll blame me and then you’ll leave. Leaving me not with relief or feeling of understanding, but with more guilt, more self-hatred. And so again I say yes. Always saying yes.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #trauma #doing this as i cant write anything intimate it seems

[charlotte-of-wales]

Roles to be performed at the Coronation Service at Westminster Abbey

Buckingham Palace is pleased to announce further details on the Ceremonial roles to be performed by individuals in the Coronation Service at Westminster Abbey.

The Ceremonial roles include bearing the Regalia in the Procession and presenting the items to Their Majesties. Those undertaking these historic roles in the Service have been chosen to recognise, thank and represent the Nation due to their significant service, and include representatives from Orders of Chivalry, the military and wider public life.

The first processions into Westminster Abbey will be made up of Faith Leaders and Faith Representatives followed shortly afterwards by representatives from His Majesty’s Realms. Flags of each Realm will be carried by national representatives accompanied by the Governors General and Prime Ministers. Bearing the Flag of the United Kingdom ahead of Prime Minister Rishi Sunak and Mrs Akshata Murty will be Cadet Warrant Officer Elliott Tyson-Lee, who said: “It is a great and incredible honour to be a part of Their Majesties’ Coronation Service as a representative of the Royal Air Force Air Cadets."

This will be followed by The Procession of The King and The Queen which will be led by the Marquess of Anglesey, the Duke of Westminster, the Earl of Caledon and the Earl of Dundee who will carry the Standards of the Quarterings of the Royal Arms and Standard of the Principality of Wales. Francis Dymoke will carry The Royal Standard.

Mr Dymoke’s claim to undertake a historic role in the Coronation was upheld by the Coronation Claims Office. The title of King or Queen’s Champion has been held by the Dymoke family since the Middle Ages. The King’s Champion would previously ride on horseback into the Coronation Banquet and challenge any who doubted the right of The King or Queen to the throne. There has not been a Coronation Banquet since that held by King George IV in 1821 so the Champion has instead undertaken a different role since, usually bearing a flag or Standard.

Also taking part in the procession will be Admiral Sir Tony Radakin, Chief of the Defence Staff, acting as Lord High Constable of England, an office held for the day only. Traditionally the Lord High Constable is a Great Officer of State and has historically been connected to the military. He will take part alongside the Earl Marshal, the Duke of Norfolk.

The Earl of Erroll will act as Lord High Constable of Scotland. Similar to that of Lord High Constable of England, this role has historically been connected to the military and the Earldom of Erroll through a Coronation claim. The Earl of Crawford and Balcarres will act as Deputy to the Great Steward of Scotland, HRH The Prince of Wales.

The following will then process to the altar carrying Her Majesty’s Regalia:

Baroness (Helena) Kennedy of The Shaws – Carrying The Queen Consort's Rod

General Sir Patrick Sanders – Carrying The Queen Consort's Sceptre

The Duke of Wellington – Carrying Queen Mary’s Crown

The Rt. Reverend and Rt. Hon the Lord Chartres– Carrying The Queen Consort's Ring

Lord Chartres said: “The ceremonies of the Coronation are ancient but they have been freshly interpreted for our contemporary world.”

The following will then process to the altar carrying His Majesty’s Regalia:

General Sir Gordon Messenger, the Governor of HM Tower of London – Carrying St Edward’s Crown as Lord High Steward of England

Baroness (Elizabeth) Manningham-Buller LG – Carrying St Edward's Staff

The Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry KT – Carrying the Sceptre with Cross

Baroness (Floella) Benjamin OM – Carrying the Sceptre with the Dove

Dame Elizabeth Anionwu OM – Carrying the Orb

The Keeper of the Jewel House, Brigadier Andrew Jackson – Carrying The Sovereign’s Ring

Petty Officer Amy Taylor – Carrying the Sword of Offering

Lord Hastings and The Earl of Loudoun – Carrying the Spurs

Lord President of the Council, Penny Mordaunt – Carrying the Sword of State in The King’s Procession

Air Chief Marshal the Lord Peach – Carrying the Sword of Mercy (The Curtana)

General the Lord Richards of Herstmonceux – Carrying the Sword of Spiritual Justice

General the Lord Houghton of Richmond – Carrying the Sword of Temporal Justice

General Sir Gordon Messenger, the Lord High Steward of England, (also an office held for the day only) is the most senior Great Officer of State for the Coronation, in order to bear the St Edward’s Crown into the Abbey, the most significant item of Regalia. On carrying St Edward’s Crown, General Sir Gordon Messenger said: “It is a huge and unique honour to be appointed Lord High Steward for His Majesty’s Coronation. To be playing a key role on such an important and historic occasion is a source of great pride to me, my family, the Royal Marines, and the Tower of London community.”

Petty Officer Amy Taylor will be the first woman to bear the Jewelled Sword of Offering into the Abbey. She has been selected to represent Service men and women, as a Royal Navy Petty Officer, a tribute to His Majesty’s military career. She said: "Having served most of my senior career as an Aircraft Engineer on 845 Naval Air Squadron at RNAS Yeovilton where His Majesty originally trained and served as a pilot, I am deeply honoured and humbled to play my part in this historic event. Coming from a farming family His Majesty has always been such a great advocate for our community and someone I have admired growing up."

Baroness Benjamin and Dame Elizabeth Anionwu are amongst recent appointees to the Order of Merit, the final members to be chosen for the Order by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. Baroness Benjamin said: “I feel honoured and privileged to be part of the historic Coronation ceremony. To be selected to carry the Sovereign’s Sceptre with Dove, which represents spirituality, equity and mercy, is for me very symbolic as it’s everything I stand for and sends out a clear message that diversity and inclusion is being embraced."

Participating in the act of Recognition of His Majesty whereby His Majesty will be presented to the Congregation at the start of the Service will be:

The Archbishop of Canterbury, Baroness (Valerie) Amos LG, Lady Elish Angiolini LT, and Christopher Finney GC, Chair of the Victoria Cross and George Cross Association.

During the Coronation Service the Regalia will be presented to Their Majesties. Those presenting have been chosen on the advice of Government. Those presenting Regalia to His Majesty will be:

The Lord Carrington, Lord Great Chamberlain – Presenting the Spurs

The Lord (Syed) Kamall – Presenting the Armills

Baroness (Gillian) Merron – Presenting the Robe Royal

The Most Reverend John McDowell, the Church of Ireland Archbishop of Armagh – Presenting the Orb

Lord (Narendra) Patel KT – Presenting the Ring

Lord (Indarjit) Singh of Wimbledon – Presenting the Coronation Glove

The Most Reverend Mark Strange, Bishop of Moray, Ross and Caithness, and Episcopal Primus of Scotland – Presenting the Sceptre with Cross

The Most Reverend Andrew John, the Archbishop of Wales – Presenting the Sceptre with Dove

The Archbishop of Canterbury – Performing the crowning with St Edward’s Crown

Those presenting Regalia to Her Majesty will be:

The Rt. Reverend Rose Hudson-Wilkin CD, The Bishop of Dover – Presenting The Queen Consort's Rod

The Rt. Reverend and Rt Hon. Lord Chartres – Presenting The Queen Consort's Sceptre with Cross

Brigadier Andrew Jackson, The Keeper of the Jewel House at HM Tower of London – Presenting The Queen Consort's Ring

The Archbishop of Canterbury – Performing the crowning with Queen Mary’s Crown

On presenting Regalia to Her Majesty, The Bishop of Dover said: “I am surprised, excited and honoured to have been asked to play a part in this historic once in a lifetime occasion. As I make my presentation, both Their Majesties will remain in my prayers as they seek to serve the nation and the Commonwealth.”

#kciii coronation

[arezenithofyouthlove]

Congratulation manhwa. You managed to turn hell arc, one of the most emotional parts of the novel, into some half-half shitty ass comedy show. I'm so disappointed I swear. My quick review of current arc, beware of strong language

Chap 112: overuse of Lloyd's face as normal. Javier has better interaction with a demon than with his master???

Chap 113: using the information in the hell Internet with only 40% true to bet for your life is stupid Lloyd. Why don't they just stick to the original where Lloyd knew Helkaro's personality through the Knight of Blood and Iron novel??? Wouldn't that make so much more sense??? All Helkaro's inner thoughts were removed. Javier casually asked Lloyd about his real identity. Urgh Lloyd's faces again 🤢

Chap 114: I don't think in the novel Lloyd acting like that or it's just manhwa adaption. But the fact they draw Lloyd tried to kill a satan crossing the lava river is disgusting. Also Lloyd's face 😮‍💨

Chap 115: the reaper adaptation is fucking stupid if you are asking me. Why didn't the reaper get that dark wizard dude soul from before? So if you practice dark magic you won't be dragged to hell at all? And you can stay on the living realm killing more people??? And the reaper talk with ogLloyd. Please shut up. Pretending to be a meaningful life lesson but it just didn't work. If Suho has system power back in Korea would he still be hardworking? Or will he also get corrupted by it too? That hypothetical question is so stupid. They are trying to make original Lloyd to be less hate-able. Since when did him care about the estate at all? Why do you need to reduce his crime?

Chap 116: this is when I feel they massacre Lloyd's character trait the most. They already did it for a long time but I will focus on this chap. How he treat to ogLloyd is completely different to the novel. Novel Lloyd knew he stole OgLloyd body so he tried to find a way to compensate him back, but manhwa Lloyd just told him to get lost cuz he didn't gain anything from doing that? Suho would never say something like that. Deep inside he is a kind hearted so he always felt guilty and wanted to help ogLloyd if he could. But look at him now? He only helped OgLloyd cuz he think he is a nuisance. Next we have the rail building situation. Lloyd was clearly in the wrong side but he acting like a real scum. He didn't even say sorry and just told the lava monster to accept it? And told Javier to kill it? For real? I can understand in the novel it was self defence since the lava monster didn't accept Lloyd's apologies but I can't make any excuse for his wrong doing in the manhwa. Are they trying to make him look like a jerk as much as possible in front of the satan eyes? Even Javier knew what Lloyd doing was wrong. Lloyd even shoved the satan to the ground while he is running away. Where is his "safety first" rule now? I know they are in hell but he didn't care about life of other at all. Novel Lloyd even built a grave for the unlucky satans died in the lava monster attack in secret but I guess doing that is too ooc with the current manhwa version of him.

Chap 117: Really? They draw Javier having fun by putting Lloyd in danger? Is this really the same Javier who swear he will protect Lloyd with his own life? And let Javier question that? This is just absurd and not funny at all. They are too focusing on drawing "comedy panel" to the point of making a person who already read the novel like me get sick of it. What irritating me is the fact that the adaption team knew they are ruining the novel source just so they can make Lloyd a money-making machine for them. Manhwa good art can't save it completely from a badly written plot lack of character development and interaction.

Chap 118: The summon acting like Lloyd. Also it seems like they forgot Bibelhyung original size is a giant beaver so they just draw the chibi version of him. Lloyd and OgLloyd talk... I wanna to strangle LHM so bad. This is not my Lloyd at all! HE DID NOT TREATING OGLLOYD LIKE THAT IN THE NOVEL. Now helping ogLloyd is just he doing free charity, oh how noble of him is that? Here come Helkaro and thing about system. I can see the adaption team try to make thing more interesting by bullshiting all the stuff about higher-being and upper side but I think it won't come to anywhere. The system is helping Lloyd too much, acting just like a convenient plot armor. This bring me back to the Destiny Point system, another stupid adaption in my opinion. It's an attempt of them to spoiler about the Prince Making Drug sequel, which in turn end up a total plot destroyer. It is literally a free version of Ending Spoiler now since it could notice Lloyd something bad happen in the future. The way it works is also questionable. How long can the butterfly effect last? The way it calculate the number of people life like mere data? Isn't it behaving like a chain sackle Lloyd at a predestined future now? It appeared after Alicia got that eyes but it didn't take that into calculation?

Phew. I will wait for chap 119 to get translated first then continue to vent, unless Tumble shadowban me like last time lol

#tged #the greatest estate developer

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Finality 9, Arbiter of the End

For hours you and your allies have sheltered in place as the astral warships bombarded the city, feeling each impact as another block was levelled. Now you watch as the Flagship touches down, scarab like legs taller than spires unfolding from it's hull. It's going to be a bloody, brutal struggle fighting your way through the rubble and the burning streets up to the control deck, but It's your only hope of ending things without your home being razed to the ground.

The embodiment of a death sentence passed long before any of the heroes were ever born, the Marut Finality 9 and the Inevitable armada it commands serve only one purpose: to deliver violent and irrevocable endings to entities that should have died long ago.

Unfortunately for the party, whatever being(s) Finality 9 is hunting happen to reside on the same landmass as they do, and the Inevitable has no qualms levelling anything that gets in its way until the destruction of its target is confirmed. Like many creatures born from the shattered plane of order, Finality 9 and its construct legion have a very narrow set of operational directives, and "preserving life" ends up being the preview of a different order of celestial machines.

Finality 9's operations always follow the same protocol: After using divination to determine the vague location of their target Modron scouts will be sent to investigate, sending a transmission back to the ship to begin the invasion the moment they've determined the enemy's presence and threat level. After that it's bombardment and battalions in specified areas to soften up their target's defences before Finality 9 itself descends to finish the job.

Hooks:

One of Finality 9's scouts becomes attached to the party early in their adventures, following along and providing typical mascot antics until they stumble across evidence of the big bad. This starts a ticking clock for the party to find and oust this evil before the Inevitables arrive... a task the galactic forces of order were failing at for decades.

Every year the realm celebrates the festival of St. Altrin's Star, held on a night when a particular comet is viable to venerate the figure's many beneficent acts. This year however the comet is unusually bright, heralding the fact that it is not a star, but Finality 9's ship which has been circling the world for decades or even centuries waiting for the reemergence of a long dormant demi-lich which the party awoke earlier in their adventures.

The Inevitable does not warn or negotiate, and likely does not even speak the language of the lands it is razing but with some telepathy or a background in obscure astral dialects they might be able to get it to stop by presenting evidence that its target is already dead ( forcing them to do all the work) or that its actions are unlawful (which requires iron clad litigation skills and knowledge of multiple celestial law systems). If the heroes happen to have any favours with infernal deal makers or underworld bureaucrats, now would be the time to call them in.

In a desperate hour, the party must seek out finality 9's armada hovering dormant in wildspace in hopes of gaining their aid against a greater foe. Delving through the flagship in its hibernation mode will not be easy as not only are there defence systems to worry about but astral wildlife that have nested in the interior while the constructs within were in standby mode.

Art 1, Art 2

#inevitable #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder #high level #villain #SPELLJAMMER #modron #Mechanus #warfare #disaster #end game

[soldier-poet-king]

Came to the realization (I've connected it! You didn't connect shit!) about the link between Stoicism (in the philosophical sense) and common trauma responses - both center around the locus of control, and having control over the boundaries of said locus.

The Stoics right, the whole thing with "virtue is sufficient for happiness" is that you don't worry about things outside of your control, and so moral actions (and therefore eudaimonia) are exclusively things within your realm of influence (yes yes that's a gross oversimplification, but the bulk of my academic work was with the Platonists anyway). The Stoics knew where the locus of control was, and their virtue, and their happiness, stemmed (in theory) from knowing, acknowledging, thinking, and acting within the boundaries of this sphere.

A common trauma response also revolves around control, or the lack thereof. When you're accustomed to instability and a lack of a sense of safety control becomes both a means of salvation and damnation. The lack of control, the uncertainty of it, the sense of walking on eggshells, is what causes the trauma in the first place - you have no control over anything and it's terrifying and dangerous.

But control can also mean safety, if you can manage to get it. And you can get control in one of two ways. You can reduce your environment severely, withdrawing from the world out of fear and isolating yourself. Or you can falsely extend your control, tricking yourself into a sense of stability with (often unhealthy) lies and mindgames. Often, people do both. They may become withdrawn and anti-social and fearful of new experiences, even if it is something that there is no reason to fear, no indication that it might be threatening. They withdraw as much as possible from any relationship, experience, or event which has any degree of uncertainty, which they cannot control.

You may also become a people-pleaser, or obsessive about responsibility and causality - if you take the blame for every event on yourself it restores a sense of control, even if it is based in falsity. If you are responsible for managing someone's moods, or causing widespread tragedy, or what have you, then you yourself are the only one to blame when you are punished or when something terrible happens. It is a small comfort perhaps, but better than no comfort at all. It is easier to think that the fault is within yourself, that only if you were faster, smarter, better this terrible thing would not happen. It gives the illusion that it may be different in the future, if you are (impossibly) better. It is easier than living with the knowledge that you can't control it, you can't do anything to change it, and you just have to live like this. The solace of lies you tell yourself.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this observation maybe I'm in love with the sound of my own silly little thoughts. Someone smarter and more eloquent could make further connections about the locus of control and how the Stoics did not try to change it, while trauma responses simultaneously try to reduce and expand that locus as a defence mechanism. I'm sure there's some sort of philosophical or psychological implication here. I'm sure Real Academics and psychologists have already made this observation elsewhere, but it only occurred to me this afternoon.

#the duality of fran #am having a normal one folks. having a completely normal brain #went from talking abt astarion as someone who appreciates art but lacks the skill to produce it and undead as the antithesis of creation #(shout out to avas-poltergeist) #to a separate convo w someone else about my own scruples and inability to trust as trauma response #to bleed out (the song) #to then marcus aurelius and the stoics #CONNECTING THOSE DOTS. #fran how does ur mind go from these things to these other things? #honestly. idk man. i do not control the way the brain links concepts. i am just as mystified as u. i am simply. along for the ride #am i an insane navel gazer over analyzing everything? yes #is everything - psychology. art. media. music. real life. - all connected to the same themes and through lines? also yes #and im apparently incapable of not dragging these things together in tangled web #despite my inability to be eloquent or to say anything genuinely intelligent and observant #it's just rambles all the way down #honestly if youve followed me for more than like. 2 days. u know what to expect at this point

[datawyrms]

Frozen Findings

I did a fic for Minibang as well c: You can also read it on Ao3! And check out the art @skarlettskwrl made c:

 The chill that had infested the Infinite Realms at the news of Pariah’s return was far worse than any cold that could be felt even in their frozen homeland. The unsteady peace everyone had slowly become accustomed to was again teetering on the edge of collapse. Pariah would not have changed during his imprisonment. The King’s mad insistence that all must bow down to only him to be a united front against a world most did not even see first hand would rip the Realms to shreds. Either through fighting amongst themselves, or shoved back again by the living to fight a war on two fronts.

 It took everything for him to keep a brave face for his people, to lead and pretend he had the confidence and ability to pull all of the Far Frozen through another merciless war. Most had tried to forget those times, to forget what had been done to their friends and family that had fallen. The twisted mockery in the oversized skeletons mindlessly following the King’s will. A death in everything but name.

 Frostbite’s arm ached at the memory, and he forced more ice into his mangled limb, ears flat against his head. He couldn’t forget that time, not as a leader. It was too important to let it sink beyond his active thoughts. He had hoped all the others could forget, that they should forget it as an atrocity that could never occur again. So the knowledge of the ability Pariah made use of would be utterly forgotten and lost to even Time.

 A foolish hope, perhaps. A dream more befitting of the living than the dead. He could claim they would shore up their defences and take up arms to push the tyrant back a second time, but he knew the truth. The Far Frozen had endured, not won the last time. Luck had spared them in the end.

 Frostbite had been the third chief to take up the mantle in a mere span of months. He had already picked out a fourth when it became clear the corruption to his arm could not be shrugged off.

 It was pure chance that the mysterious ancient ghosts chose to act before he fell. That he was still able to lead his people into a time of prosperity and renewal. That is why they honoured these ghosts, made murals and carvings to thank them for stopping Pariah’s unyielding hatred. Even if they kept those reminders farther away from their living spaces, a history not everyone had to know so keenly.

 Would those ghosts assist again? If they did, when? Before his people were ravaged and destroyed? Or only after? They would not have the advantage of being distant and unknown to Pariah this time. He would remember the people who repeatedly refused to bend. He would remember who he decided to break.

 Bending now wouldn’t spare them. Pariah was not a forgiving madman. Not that they would. Bowing to such a cause would be an insult to everything they were, healers and protectors, watchers from afar. Not bloodstained warriors that killed all those that stood in the tyrant’s path.

 Most concerning were the rumours that Pariah found—or      made     an heir. Another tyrant to be. Another monster that would know how to twist other ghosts until they broke, no matter how much they resisted. There was an opportunity hidden in that awful news. If the heir apparent was destroyed, Pariah would lose a tool he had invested deeply in. Rage would give him power, yes, but he would be more prone to act recklessly, to be less thorough. Some of his people might be able to escape, go into hiding while the King assumed he had removed all of the Far Frozen from existence.

 It wasn’t a plan for victory. Just survival.

 He did not relish in that option, but the delicate ice medallion held between his claws betrayed his fears. It had been so long since he had made the first one. An age where he had not needed to put the burden of being the surviving successor on another.

 To hand this over to Hailfur would alert all of his people to the danger he felt the Far Frozen were in. The danger that Frostbite did not expect to survive.

 “Chief Frostbite! The Tyrant has sent a messenger!”

 He forced his face to remain still at the news, nodding at the smaller yeti. “Thank you for the swift alert. I will consult with them alone.”

 “Is that wise?”

 “If I do not return, I expect you and the other elder warriors to help evacuate.”

 The yeti seemed to slouch at the order, eyes widening. “Frostbite, surely you don’t want us to abandon you at the first sign of trouble?”

 Frostbite bit back a sigh, grasping the warrior’s hands gently. “Yes, I do. Our people are more important than a single member.” He slowly let go of the other’s claws once he was sure the little medallion was safely in their grasp. The smile he wore was forced, but leaving a fellow Far Frozen with only a frown to remember him by would be unfair to both of them. “Now go.”

 Pariah loved to send ‘messengers’ who liked to make their point with attempts to maim and slaughter. All the more reason to stand alone. If they wanted to use underhanded tactics, they could try it against him. See how far that got them when there were no children to torment.

 He walked with a heavy tread that had nothing to do with the deep snow, tail flicking to obscure his pawprints as he went. Keeping confident would be difficult if he rushed. More time in the brisk wind would help him find his centre and prepare.

 Yet no amount of preparation could make him ready for what he found in the audience cavern. There was no warrior, or a menacing mockery that dwarfed the room waiting for him. Instead there was a child.

 No, no. Not a child. What appeared to be a child, at first glance. The gangly limbs and scruffy mess of hair mimicked someone young well. Yet it couldn’t totally hide what it was. The green eyes might appear curious, but the foul darkened scar across one of them betrayed it. Pariah’s mark, proof of the ghost’s unshaking loyalty. A foul monster trying to prey on Frostbite’s weakness for the young and helpless. It was a sick, twisted trick, and he hated how well it worked. Even the ugly unhealing green scar on it's chest made him feel pity instead of fear.

 Frostbite did not want to strike this creature down. Not while it was so small and hesitant. Once it stopped pretending, he would be fine. He just had to keep telling himself that. He kept his head high to loom over the little monster and spoke much louder than he needed to, so as to better fill the entire cavern with his presence. “So, you requested an audience?”

 The ch- the      thing     gulped and hunched its shoulders, green eyes no longer scanning the walls to focus entirely on him. “Yes, I did.”

 No threats yet, curious. Though this servant might have been ordered to behave more passively to better mimic the child it was pretending to be. “Your audience is granted. I am Frostbite, chief and protector of all the Far Frozen. Whom do I have the pleasure of conversing with?”

 “Oh I’m Da-“ the smaller ghost broke off suddenly, looking at the ground. “Phantom, I guess.”

 Strange. Pariah’s spawn was sticking to childlike behaviour, even when correcting an ‘error’. It put a discomforting pressure in his chest, to be so privately hostile to such a good mimic, and he cursed the tyrant all the more for using such a tactic. He would not break before it did. “Oh, there’s no need for ceremony here, if you prefer another name.”

 “Ceremony? Oh no. It’s just um. Sorry, you probably don’t care about this.”

 “The Far Frozen are known for their patience, do not hesitate on my account. I would like to know who you are, after all.”

 Phantom still looked small, shoulders hunched as he considered the reassurance. “It’s just my friends said that’s not who I am…so I’m not using it for now. I don’t want to upset them more.”

 Friends? Pariah did not have friends, did not tolerate his servants to make ‘worthless’ connections that could not be exploited for future gains. Yet this ghost had some elaborate fiction about having some at one point. Before being bound to the tyrant’s will, perhaps. Allowed to ‘remember’ such a thing just to burrow into his fur and bite past his defences. “I am sorry to hear your relationships seem to be strained, young Phantom. Come, we will sit and discuss the message you have brought.” He meant what he said, even though he should not. This was not an upset child. This was an assassin, an enemy. Curse his weakness, curse Pariah to stoop so low as to make such a tool.

 The boy followed as Frostbite took his place at the circular table, but hovered uncertainly at the frosty pillow on the floor.

 “Do you require heat to be comfortable?” An easy lie it could tell, just to test the waters.

 Instead the servant hung his head, legs melting into a tail that he slowly began to wrap around himself. “I guess I don’t anymore.”

 “If you do not feel at ease even if you are not cold, we have blankets you may make use of.”

 “That might be nice? Uh.” Phantom hesitates again, not moving. “I don’t need it, it’s okay.”

 Doesn’t want one because it might slow him down when he decides to attack? All the more reason to insist and be a good host. Frostbite only needs two steps to reach the basket resting against a wall, plucking a light blue fuzzy blanket from the top. “Would this do?” Instead of letting the boy answer, he sets the blanket around the small ghost’s shoulders and steps back.

 He’s not upset. Instead he clings to the blanket and wraps it around himself, hiding the scar on his chest and that weird one piece outfit of his. It amusingly makes Phantom look taller, the blanket trailing down to the ground and hiding his tail. “Thanks.” Instead of speaking further the boy busied himself in sitting comfortably, very focused on the fabric and the floor instead of Frostbite.

 It was strange. Too convincing, wasting too much time instead of doing the job it was sent to do. He had to push his tongue against one of his canines, hoping the pain might help clear his head. That white haired ghost is not a helpless child that needs protecting. He does not need to give it something to fiddle with or snack on. All he has to do is listen to its threats, and get rid of it. Permanently, if at all possible.  “My apologies for the distraction. We can discuss your message now.”

 Phantom refused to look up, mumbling a little as he fiddled with the corners of the blanket. Stalling for time?

 Time was more on his side than Pariah’s goon, so Frostbite allowed for the delay, letting the silence inside thicken as the wind screamed just outside the comfortable cavern.

 Phantom finally cracked, a long breath escaping him before he spoke. “I know that Pariah was a monster to you guys. So I know this kind of sounds bad? I don’t like what he did.” His voice remained boyish, hesitant as he ran sentences together. In a rush, concerned of what reaction he would earn. “What I read was awful. Really gross. I-I don’t want him to start doing that again.”

 Frostbite raised an eyebrow at the blatant disloyalty. This was a new sort of strategy, acting like they were allies when they were anything but. Still, he would allow the creature to continue. There was no point in interrupting when he clearly hadn’t even gotten to the point yet.

 “So um I came to talk? He doesn’t watch everything- he didn’t destroy Amity Park as long as I uh. Made sure they didn’t do anything to try and fight him.” Phantom’s voice was barely above a mumble as he reached the end of his sentence, hand clamped tight to the back of his neck. “It wasn’t good but no one died? They don’t like me much, but at least they’re still alive to hate me, you know?”

 “You sound as if you wish to convince yourself more than me, young one.”

 He flinched, managing to somehow look even smaller in the blanket that dwarfed him. “They’re alive, that’s what matters. It doesn’t matter if I’m,” his voice cracked “not welcome there.”

 Do not comfort the ghost. All it’s doing is trying to make surrender sound ‘good’. Yet his arms ached to scoop the ghost up and allow him to sob into his shoulder. Why did he have to look so young, sound so sincere?

 “I think I can convince Pariah to leave you guys alone too? If you don’t fight. If you surrender and he’s busy with other places he won’t be able to do…those things again.”

 “So you’re asking my people and I to surrender without a fight, to a tyrant that slaughtered thousands of us to bolster his armies? Based on a poorly made assumption?” Frostbite couldn’t quite hold back a growl at the absolute audacity of this ghost, but at least it helped him stop feeling so worried about the little thing. “Is that your message?”

 “No! Well. Sort of, I just-” he stammered, shrinking back instead of pushing forward. “You know he’ll just do it all again! A-at least this way you’re safe! And not made into mindless skeletons! I don’t want that to happen again!” Phantom looked up instead of away as he denied Frostbite’s disgust, eyes burning with an energy that he had lacked before this moment. “I won’t ask you guys to fight or do anything for Pariah. If he doesn’t like it, t-tough! He should have thought of that before letting me take care of parts of his kingdom!”

 That changed a few things. Phantom wasn’t just a servant. This little ghost with the body of a child was Pariah’s chosen heir. A monster in waiting. What was worse was the honesty in his voice, the fire in his eyes as he spoke absurdities. “Phantom, you are young, correct? How long have you lived in the Infinite Realms?”

 He blinked, brow furrowing in confusion at the question. “I didn’t really live here before Pariah wouldn’t let me leave. Uhh. A few months?”

 No wonder he said such things. This ghost was practically an infant. Someone snared into Pariah’s web before he even had a chance to be his own person. A cruel, tragic fate. “Then I will ask you this. If we agreed to your suggestion, and then Pariah told you he would go back on your agreement, what do you think you could do to stop him?”

 “He couldn’t! It would be an agreement-”

 “With you. A servant. Breaking your word will not hurt him, nor would it stop him. He was not called a tyrant without cause, child. Pariah broke vows and shrugged off the consequences because he decided he was right to do so. If you truly think you could stop him, you would not already belong to him.”

 Something in the boy broke then, clutching at his chest as he sagged where he sat. “N-No. If I can’t keep anyone safe, what’s the point?”

 “This Amity Park you mentioned, Pariah’s ‘promised’ to allow you to protect it?”

 A mute nod.

 “Boy. You must be aware that you cannot defy Pariah. No matter how you feel.”

 “I can’t say what I want, sometimes. That doesn’t mean I think what he wants or just do everything he wants!” A pathetic sort of defence, but a useful one for the yeti to make his point.

 “If you cannot even speak freely, do you really think you will have a choice if he commands you to destroy the place you protect?”

 The shudder that passed through the boy’s slumped form said more than enough. Of course he’d never considered such a thing. Of course he was already primed to obey and not question his ‘parent’, thinking trust was something that would go both ways. An innocent mistake that would grow and twist this fired up child into a thoughtless executor of the king’s will. The kindest thing would be to free him while he was still not entirely the king’s.

 “I didn’t think he could, all the things I read-” Phantom mumbled, still not moving, “Why did I just believe that? I’m so stupid.”

 He should still be wary that this was a trap, a trick, but the pain looked too real to be an act. Frostbite did his best to step lightly, crouching down next to Phantom’s blanketed form. “Being manipulated by a being far greater than you is not your fault.”

 “I didn’t mean to insult you, I really thought I could-” he paused as Frostbite gently nudged him against his furred shoulder. “I wanted it to work.”

 He let the boy clutch at his fur, lifting him gently and holding him close. It was unfair, and he would despise himself for this. Yet it was the only kind thing he could do for Phantom. Freedom was forever out of his grasp. He would make it as painless as he could. “I know. You understand why we cannot just give up, yes?”

 “Uhhuh.” A sniff, like the boy was doing his best not to actually cry.

 Not that it mattered, with him this close Frostbite’s keen ears could the distress deep in his chest, the very core of his being shaken by a reality he had been unable to consider on his own. It was the best place to aim, and the boy was so very small. One accurate ice claw through the back would be more than enough. “I do not blame you.”

 He mumbled something that sounded like a thanks, keeping still in the warm embrace. Unaware and too distracted with shame to notice how Frostbite’s grip had subtly changed.

 This wasn’t hurting him. It was a quick hurt, a much kinder fate. Pariah would lose an heir and a puppet in one blow. Phantom would not be twisted into a monster his current self would despise. He was just so small, so open that it was agony to think about what he was doing. He shouldn’t hesitate like this. Yet there was something buried in the shock and sadness crying from Phantom’s chest. A second sound, an emotionless sound that did not keep in time with the rest of him.

 That shouldn’t happen. Shouldn’t really be possible to occur, not without the ghost suffering greatly for being so incohesive at their heart of hearts. Frostbite stayed his claws and cocked his ears, trying to better make sense of the sound. “Young one, I hear something strange. Are you aware of why your self is not in harmony?”

 “No?” The question finally made him stir, looking up at Frostbite instead of staying burrowed in his fur. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 Phantom was a painfully young ghost, to not have even a hint of what he was being asked. Frostbite just had to find the word humans liked to use, to help him understand. “Ah, your ‘self’. I think humans liked to say they felt things with their hearts? Think of it like that, but you feel and think with it as a ghost.”

 “So you’re saying I have a weird…heartbeat? Or ghost heart thing.” Phantom tilted his head, his curiosity quieting the worst of the pained noise within him.

 The second sound was still there. Weak and slow, but present and unchanging despite how the ghost’s mood had shifted. An unnatural separation that the child somehow didn’t notice, didn’t seem pained by. How much he should clarify was difficult. The child would have to speak if the ghost king demanded he do so. This division, this abnormality would not be tolerated. Not when Pariah’s control rested on knowing how to twist and manipulate the ‘self’ so completely that even the conscious mind would fall in line no matter how much the servant detested the tyrant.

 If this child had another self, another place that stored his wants and feelings, maybe his absurd boast could be more than that. “Something like that. Do you remember having something like that before Pariah? When you still had that other name, had those friends you mentioned?”

 Phantom untangled himself a little at the question, pain clear in his averted eyes and clenched teeth. “Only when I was alive.”

 That didn’t make sense. He had assumed the child had been exaggerating, or simply couldn’t remember thanks to the Tyrant deciding Phantom should be a potential successor. Throwing an old life away to better suit the king certainly wouldn’t be the worst that monster had done.  “You were never a ghost before Pariah?”

 “Not completely? I was kinda both human and ghost at the same time. Not that I can prove it anymore.” Phantom frowned. “Why do you care anyway? You were mad at me, like, a few seconds ago. Because I can’t help anyone.”

 “It was not anger at you. It was anger at what had been done to you, fate pushed on you.” A small fib, considering his assumption the child was acting at first. With him this close, heart so open, it was much easier to know all his childlike actions were just natural ones. “Would you mind waiting a moment while I fetch a tool to help you hear what I am hearing? Just to see if it is familiar to how you felt when you still lived.”

 “Sure?” Another pause as the smaller ghost pulled the blanket closer around himself. “You aren’t um. Going to get something to hurt me, or something, right?”

 “No, no. If I meant you harm, I would not need extra assistance.” Not that the child had to know how close he had been to finding that out in a very final matter. Still, a little more caution on his part would not be misplaced.

 Though he can hardly chide about caution, knowingly leaving one of Pariah’s servants unattended for any length of time. He was fairly sure it was safe, considering how little the boy seemed to know, how freshly dead and innocent the tyrant had chosen to leave him. Frostbite did make sure to look back at least twice, just in case there was some buried order to make the child into an attacking monster when ‘left alone’.

 Phantom was still wrapped up in the blanket when he returned with the stethoscope, and barely looked like he’d moved even an inch. It was almost as if the Realms itself was laughing at his paranoia. This little wisp of a boy being a wild danger? Yet appearances could be deceiving. If only he knew why Pariah had chosen this child of all ghosts to be an heir after refusing so many others. Perhaps the strange second sound was related.

 “I only need to press this against you; there’s no sharp edges or poking, see?”

 Instead of looking reassured, Phantom scowled and crossed his arms. “I know what a stethoscope is, I’m not five.”

 “Then that makes things easier. Not all ghosts would know how this works.” Perhaps Phantom was under the impression all ghosts had once been human. Frostbite moved slowly, to appear less frightening and the boy didn’t try to jerk away at the gentle pressure on his chest.

 He sounded like a healthy ghost. Loud, expressive, a tangled weave of feelings and the thoughts chained to them. A full spectrum of them ready to be drawn on at need. That wasn’t why Frostbite wanted to listen though. Instead he focused on the strange thumping nothingness burbling below the energetic emotions. It was even clearer with the aid. Even less keen ears should be able to hear how out of place it was. “Here, you should be able to hear it.”

 Phantom took the stethoscope, but hesitated at actually putting part of it near his ears. Frostbite had to suppress a chuckle. The once living and their strange ideas that a body should be constantly making a mess was always amusing.

     “Is it meant to be this noisy?” He winced, pulling away only moments after finally placing the ear tips correctly.

 “In a healthy ghost, yes. I did tell you that was the most important part of you. It sings and speaks of your emotions and more. Try closing your eyes and focusing.”

 Phantom kept frowning, but gingerly put it back on correctly and shut his eyes. The way his brow creased showed he was still having trouble, or was somewhat confused, but Frostbite could wait. If the boy had never heard his true ‘self’ as a ghost before, all the more reason he should try now. Perhaps he could hear the wrongness Pariah twisted into him as well as the strange emotionless thud.

 “Is that my heartbeat? I couldn’t feel that anymore.” Green eyes begged for a positive answer, even as his fingers curled even tighter into the blanket. “Ghosts…don’t usually have this?” Phantom moved one of his hands, pressing it against his chest as if he expected to feel the sound though all of his ectoplasm.

 “Not without an associated emotion or thought, no. An empty thud like that has no place in a ghost. You can hear me, if you like.” Frostbite adjusted his cloak slightly as he scooped Phantom back off of the pillow. There was no reason to hide the want to protect, to care for that would be the loudest cries that an untrained ear could understand.

 He hesitated, but listened again as Frostbite moved the stethoscope. “You sound…warm? But you’re covered in ice?”

 “Of course. We’re all complicated, and you’re only hearing the surface. With practice you could understand how everything connects, but you are young. You can hear how there is no sound without accompaniment though, correct?” Frostbite gently took the tool away, watching how the child mulled it over.

 Phantom pressed his hand against his wrist, waiting and frowning after a few seconds. “I don’t feel it at all. If I could hear my heart, I should be able to feel it.”

 “You said you were both human and ghost at once before. What would happen if you were badly injured?”

 “I’d turn human again? Pass out sometimes?” Phantom said, still distracted by trying to ‘feel’ the sound in his body.

 Frostbite could only hope his small theory might be correct. “What if that human side of yours was hurt?”

 “I don’t know? Ghosts didn’t usually bug me when I was human.”

 “Pariah told you that you had died fully, correct?”

 “He sort of implied it, yeah.” Phantom bit his lip, uncomfortable again. “I haven’t been able to be human either. Even when I kept trying.”

 “Well, Pariah likely hopes he killed you completely, yet you are an odd sort of ghost. Being both human and a ghost seems to be your natural state.”

 “Or was.”

 “Pariah might have spared you from death, but he may have underestimated you.” Frostbite said, giving him a gentle pat. “That sound, your ‘heart’, might be a hint towards that. You were horribly injured before he ‘saved’ you, I assume.”

 “I think so? I was just afraid and heard his voice—I- I didn’t want to die.”

 “Shh. Of course you didn’t.” The hug was easy to give, to help steady the shaking child. “So you are recovering, and he has kept you in the Infinite Realms. It makes sense that your ghost half would recover first, so you could move and act again even if not back to ‘normal’.”

 “Do you really think I might get it back?” His question was low and cautious, as if he feared the answer. “That I’m not really dead?”

 “I cannot say for sure, but I know ectoplasm can alter living creatures. The possibility of becoming a mixture of both is not that strange. It also explains how you can manage to survive with an empty sound in your very being.” It would be wrong to promise something he could not guarantee, but it felt like the most likely option. Phantom didn’t have a reason to make up something as strange as being human and ghost at the same time.

 “Will it help? I don’t want to just…turn into what my father wants.” Phantom winced at the ‘slip’, a frustrated groan escaping him

 “Pariah may have you under his control as a ghost, but perhaps if you have time to recover completely you can leverage that humanity against his commands. It is clearly separate and distinct from his meddling.”

 “You really think so? I could stop him from breaking promises?”

 “Remember, he did best you. It is still likely he could overpower you and put you ‘back in line.’” Frostbite said, even as Phantom sagged a little at the lack of good news. “If you are careful, you might be able to relearn how to lie to him.”

 “What’s that good for? Who cares about lying?”

 “Listen, Phantom. Pariah has no reason to ever think anything you say is false. As far as he is aware, you cannot lie. You cannot hide things from him. Do you understand what that means?”

 The boy’s brow creased as he thought about it. “He’d have no idea if my friends were planning something? If I wasn’t…destroying their stuff anymore?”

 Frostbite smiled, nodding to encourage him. “Exactly. If you really do not want to harm people, you could simply lie. As far as he knows, it will be the truth. Unless you do something foolish, like lie about something he can easily check.”

 “Okay. I’ll figure it out. Thanks.” Phantom started fidgeting, his dull glow brightening as he looked around. “So um. We didn’t actually meet yet, right? I went somewhere else.”

 “Well little one, if you say you went to check on your friends, it would not be a lie.” The more he helped this young one, the better chance they all had. “Just keep light on the details, and you’ll be fine.”

 Phantom finally smiled at that, a full one showing his teeth. “Thanks, Frostbite. I kinda really need friends right now.”

 “I can only hope you reunite with the others you might have lost soon. Be careful out there—most ghosts in my position would not have let you leave.”

 He frowned and half covered his left eye, nodding. “Maybe you can explain to other ghosts? That I’m not like him?”

 Frostbite chuckled, though it was bitter on his tongue. “Perhaps, but most would call me a fool for giving you that chance. Or say I only ‘fell’ for it because you are so young. Again, practice caution and keep your head down. You do not know how long it will take for you to heal.”

 Phantom nodded once before giving the yeti one final hug. It was quick; he backed away after only a few seconds as if embarrassed and gave a small wave before darting back out into the cold.

 It might be a mistake in the end, a foolish moment of weakness and hope, but it felt much better inside. He did not have to be a murderer this day, and he might have helped save the young one. For now he would have to focus on his duties and prepare the others for war. Phantom may not mean harm, but Pariah could not be far behind.

#dp #Danny Phantom #invisobang 2022 #Frostbite #Pariah Wins AU #it was fun! #It's just the oneshot but I hope you enjoy it

[rightpastnowhere]

(submitted by @enchantedmerry)

Hi! People are sending you fluffy headcanons, so here’s some more!

Vex and Percy didn’t actually tell Tary that they’d gotten married, it’s more that they were both all caught up being sappy newlyweds and in their defence they both find it really hard to concentrate on anything around them when the other’s kissing them and calling them lovely things. Normally, Tary would just quietly leave as quickly as possible when he walked in on them making out but this time he heard Percy calling her ‘Lady de Rolo’ and he can’t really be blamed for making a squaking sound, he maybe can be blamed for assuming that they were just into some very elaborate roleplay but honestly at least his mind jumping to that makes them eloping seem less shocking.

I’ve already included this in a fic but I love the idea that part of Vex rebuilding the Dawnfather’s temple in Whitestone included making the gardens into an orchard resembling the one they saw in Pelor’s realm. Obviously, it’s very religiously symbolic but also the fruit/selling the fruit could be used to help feed the poorest of Whitestone. Also, it’s very fun to imagine that in centuries time after the specifics of vm’s exploits have begun to drift into myth some poor future Star of Whitestone having an absolute what the FUCK moment when they realise their local church just casually looks that much like the Dawnfather’s actual house.

Pike makes her kids these really elaborate birthday cakes. She asks Kaylie if she wants one too, because it feels mean to leave her out, and she acts like she isn’t bothered but then gets so chocked up when Pike makes her one anyway.

Sometimes the twins just forget that not everyone’s bi. They were mainly round each other for so long and homophobia isn’t a thing in Tal'dorie so it’s not something that comes up much. This very nearly leads to an uncomfortable situation where Vex is just barely able to stop herself from saying 'well obviously’ when one of her kids is just starting to work out their sexuality and tells her they think they want to date people the same gender as themselves.

Whitestone Castle is an incredible playground, there’s so many hidey-holes and different roots to escape capture if you’re being chased, or places to tuck away for more quiet play and avoiding siblings. Cass goes through a very disconcerting series of emotions after stumbling on one of her niblings hidden where she hid from the Briarwoods after the initial attack, the paranoid part of her brain is glad they’re learning the best hiding spots, the rest of her just hopes they never need that knowledge. Ultimately, such morbid thoughts get drowned out as the priority becomes banning magic from their games because it’s unfair, then trying to work out how to re-balance it when at least Gwen (and probably others of the quarter elves) have clearly inherited rogue stats from their mother.

_____________________

IDK THE PROTOCOL FOR POSTING SUBMISSIONS BUT I’M ADDING MY OWN THOUGHTS BECAUSE IM SCREAMING HE L P

I HAD THE SAME THOUGHTS ABOUT TARY FINDING OUT GKJRNGKRJ i knew they would try so hard to be discreet but i ALSO know they’d be giggling to themselves and grinning while calling each other husband and wife because they’re absolutely smitten with each other, and poor tary not only almost sees vex’s tits, but also becomes one of the keepers of The Secret That Shook Vox Machina. his pulse fucking skyrockets any time one of VM came to visit whitestone during the break. the poor man gets grey hairs because of this

NGEKRJGNEKJ CAN U IMAGINE SOMEONE TELLING U THAT THE LOCAL TEMPLE ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE A GOD’S ACTUAL HOUSE. LIKE CAN U IMAGINE. and also the picture of vex just going through and picking fruits and organizing food drives (but also just keeping a few to herself every once in a while, so she can take them home and try to bake an apple pie like what she remembers of her mom’s). the champion of pelor, glowing golden, in an orchard in the sushine.

picturing pike trying to make a multi-tiered cake that is taller than she is, she asks percy for a step stool and he shows up with this elaborate motherfucker that has shelves at intermittent heights so she can take the icing and shit with her, because heaven forbid percy ever do less than The Most. AND PIKE MAKING KAYLIE A CAKE.... SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE FOR ME

GNKJGNEKJRN GOD the twins are so SILLY i LOVE THEM SO MUCH

AWW CASS <33 i love any content of her interacting with the lil de rolo babies, how she is brought a little out of her paranoid shell by the Joys of being an aunt <33 but i do think she and percy and vex all stay QUITE paranoid, and when they teach the kids about the protocol for if the castle is ever attacked, the fact that they’ve already been playing in the tunnels definitely makes it a little easier. (although i do wonder how often, in their earlier days of parenting, one of the babies disappeared into the tunnels and sent percy and vex into panic attacks, only for cass to show up holding them in her arms after crawling out of an entire wall LMAO)

#submission #HELP HELLO THESE ARE ALL SO CUTE ?!???!? HELLLO ? ? ? ? ? #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE ;; #THEY BRING ME SUCH GENUINE JOY #also i love your icon <333 mighty vibes art of vex wearing TWO jackets never ceases to make me smile #like she is so cold that she is wearing three layers INSIDE #southern girlies and their weakness to heat (it's me i'm southern girlies) #vex’ahlia #percival de rolo #taryon darrington #pike trickfoot #kaylie shorthalt #cassandra de rolo #quarter-elves #i don't think i've used that tag before but fuck it #perc’ahlia #vox machina #critical role #enchantedmerry