#Advisor Cha

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

The Mini Guide to Crafting Compelling Royal Characters for Fiction Writers

Creating royal characters can be both exciting and challenging. These regal figures often play pivotal roles in stories, capturing readers' imaginations with their power, privilege, and the weight of responsibility they carry. Whether you're writing historical fiction, fantasy, or contemporary novels featuring monarchs, this comprehensive (mini) guide will help you develop authentic, multi-dimensional royal characters that will resonate with your readers.

Understanding the Basics of Royalty

Before diving into character creation, it's essential to have a solid grasp of what royalty entails. Royalty typically refers to members of a ruling family, including kings, queens, princes, princesses, and other nobles within a monarchical system. These individuals are often born into their roles, though some may ascend to power through marriage or other means.

Key aspects to consider:

Hierarchy and succession

Royal duties and responsibilities

Protocol and etiquette

The concept of divine right (in some cultures)

The relationship between royalty and their subjects

Remember, while these elements are common in many royal systems, you have the creative freedom to adapt or reimagine them for your fictional world.

Developing Your Royal Character's Background

Every character, royal or not, needs a rich backstory. For royal characters, this background is particularly crucial as it shapes their worldview, values, and decision-making processes.

Consider the following:

a) Lineage: What is your character's family history? Are they from a long-standing dynasty or a newly established royal house?

b) Upbringing: How were they raised? Were they groomed for leadership from birth, or did they have a more sheltered upbringing?

c) Education: What kind of education did they receive? Was it formal, focusing on statecraft and diplomacy, or more well-rounded?

d) Relationships: How do they relate to their family members, courtiers, and subjects?

e) Personal experiences: What significant events have shaped their character and outlook on life?

Crafting a Unique Personality

Avoid the trap of creating one-dimensional royal stereotypes. Your character should be as complex and nuanced as any other well-developed protagonist or antagonist.

Consider these aspects:

a) Strengths and weaknesses: What are your character's admirable qualities? What flaws do they struggle with?

b) Motivations: What drives them? Is it a sense of duty, personal ambition, or something else entirely?

c) Internal conflicts: What personal struggles do they face? How do these conflicts affect their rule and relationships?

d) Hobbies and interests: What passions do they pursue outside of their royal duties?

e) Sense of humor: How do they express humor, if at all? Is it dry wit, sarcasm, or something else?

Balancing Power and Vulnerability

One of the most intriguing aspects of royal characters is the juxtaposition between their immense power and their human vulnerabilities. This balance can create compelling internal and external conflicts for your character.

Consider:

The weight of responsibility and its impact on their personal life

The isolation that often comes with a royal position

The constant scrutiny they face from the public and court

The struggle between personal desires and duty to the crown

Creating a Believable Royal World

Your royal character doesn't exist in a vacuum (I hope not). They're part of a larger royal ecosystem that includes family members, advisors, courtiers, and subjects. Developing this world adds depth and authenticity to your story.

Key elements to consider:

Court dynamics and politics

Relationships with other noble houses or kingdoms

The role of advisors and how they influence decisions

Traditions and customs specific to your royal setting

The economic and social structure of the kingdom

Addressing the Challenges of Royal Life

Royal characters face unique challenges that can drive your plot and character development. Some common themes include:

a) Succession disputes b) Balancing personal happiness with duty c) Navigating political alliances and conflicts d) Managing public opinion and maintaining legitimacy e) Dealing with threats to their rule or life

Use these challenges to create tension and drive your story forward while revealing more about your character's personality and values.

The Impact of Historical Context

If you're writing historical fiction or a fantasy inspired by real-world monarchies, it's crucial to consider the historical context. Research the time period and culture you're drawing from to ensure authenticity in your character's behavior, beliefs, and challenges.

Key areas to research:

Social norms and expectations of the time

Political systems and power structures

Technology and its impact on governance

Religious beliefs and their influence on royalty

Gender roles and how they affect royal duties and succession

Avoiding Common Pitfalls

When creating royal characters, be mindful of these common mistakes:

a) Making them too perfect or too villainous b) Ignoring the realities of royal life (e.g., lack of privacy, constant duties) c) Overlooking the impact of their decisions on their subjects d) Failing to show growth or change over the course of the story e) Relying too heavily on stereotypes or clichés

Incorporating Royal Etiquette and Protocol

Royal characters often adhere to strict codes of conduct and protocol. While you don't need to become an expert in royal etiquette, incorporating some of these elements can add authenticity to your story:

Forms of address (Your Majesty, Your Highness, etc.)

Court ceremonies and rituals

Dress codes and regalia

Rules of precedence in social situations

Diplomatic protocols when interacting with other royals or dignitaries

Exploring Different Types of Royal Characters

Remember that not all royal characters need to be ruling monarchs. Consider exploring other royal roles, such as:

The rebel prince or princess who rejects their royal duties

The reluctant heir thrust into power unexpectedly

The exiled royal fighting to reclaim their throne

The royal spouse adapting to life in the palace

The illegitimate child discovering their royal heritage

Each of these archetypes offers unique storytelling opportunities and challenges for character development.

Balancing Historical Accuracy and Creative License

If you're writing historical fiction featuring real royalty, you'll need to strike a balance between historical accuracy and creative interpretation. While it's important to respect known facts and timelines, you also have the freedom to explore the inner lives and motivations of these historical figures.

Tips for balancing accuracy and creativity:

Thoroughly research the historical figure and their time period

Clearly differentiate between historical fact and fictional interpretation

Use author's notes to explain any significant departures from known history

Focus on filling in the gaps in the historical record rather than contradicting established facts

Developing Royal Character Arcs

Like any well-rounded character, your royal protagonist should undergo growth and change throughout your story. Consider how their experiences might challenge their beliefs, alter their perspective, or force them to confront their flaws.

Possible character arcs for royal characters:

From naive idealist to pragmatic ruler

From reluctant heir to confident leader

From isolated monarch to connected leader who understands their subjects

From power-hungry tyrant to benevolent ruler (or vice versa)

Remember, character growth doesn't always have to be positive. Sometimes, the most compelling stories involve characters who face moral decline or tragic falls from grace.

Remember, while the trappings of royalty may be grand, at their core, your royal characters are still human. They love, fear, hope, and struggle like anyone else. It's this humanity, set against the backdrop of power and responsibility, that makes royal characters so fascinating to read and write about.

Happy writing, - Rin T

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

[thewastes-clangen]

Plagueclan Founders

Before the infection, 3 clans filled the valley; Shoreclan dominated the beaches by the ocean, Peakclan teetered on the edge of the mountains that shadowed the valley, and Meadowclan populated the flower fields in between. When the infection began, it started in Shoreclan. As the survivors moved into Meadowclan territory, they brought the illness with them and it spread further and further, even making its way up the mountains to Peakclan where the survivors made their last stand. When the dust settled, only a handful of cats remained. Battered and bruised they headed back into the valley and created a camp, hoping to find a cure to fight the disease and survive.

The Survivors:

Hailstar-A medium-furred black tabby and white she-cat with pale green eyes.

She/Her;106 moons;Insecure, Incredible Runner, Steady Paws

Aa (susceptible carrier);CHA:10,INS:13

Originally from Peakclan, Hailstar was once an average senior warrior. That is, until the infection began and swept through the other clans like a wildfire. When Peakclan finally faced the plague, Hailstar, then Hailheart, ran in fear and left her clan to defend itself without her. Now, Starclan has chosen her to lead the survivors to the confusion of not only her new clanmates but herself as well.

Tigershadow-A medium-furred dark ginger and black tortie she-cat with yellow eyes.

She/Her;78 moons;Wise,Valuable Insight

Aa (susceptible carrier);CHA:8,INS:16

Tigershadow was once a warrior of Shoreclan. She was a well-loved cat amongst all three clans and thankfully survived the initial outbreak. She lost many loved ones and as the first clan to fall, she watched the entire first wave play out in horror. She survived through it all, though, and while many others think she should've been made leader of the survivors, she is thankful to not have the heavy weight of their survival on her shoulders as Hailstar does. She supports the other she-cat loyally and backs her up on every decision.

Nettlebloom-A medium-furred light brown and dark ginger tortie she-cat with green eyes.

She/Her;96 moons;Bloodthirsty,Trusted Advisor

aa (immune);CHA:14,INS:17

Nettlebloom was once the medicine cat of Meadowclan and served them loyally for many years. However, once the plague began something inside her seemed to change. She became colder and didn't seem to have the same fight for helping her clanmates survive as she once did. Through the protection of her clanmates due to her status, however, she managed to survive the initial outbreak. Now she is intent to find a cure, no matter who she must experiment on to do so.

Tawnystripe-A short-furred gray and golden brown mottled she-cat with hazel eyes.

She/Her;56 moons;Thoughtful,Fast Runner,Talented Swimmer

aa (immune);CHA:8,INS:14

Tawnystripe was a warrior of Shoreclan alongside Tigershadow. She found Cricketkit on the way to Meadowclan after Shoreclan had been defeated and decided to take care of the kit herself. She followed the survivors all the way up the mountains to Peakclan, however she was horrified when they were attacked and Cricketkit was bit. She was not going to sit back and let anyone harm the kit, though, and stood over her with her claws and teeth bared at the ready for days, waiting for a sign that it was the end and vowing to finish her off herself if it came to that. But it never happened, and Cricketkit recovered, proof that there was some sort of defense against the infection. She tends lovingly to the kit still, treating her as a child while giving any cat who comes too close a vicious glare.

Icequill-A long-furred dorsal-striped silver she-cat with blue eyes.

She/Her;54 moons;Playful,Unusually Strong Fighter,Great Kitsitter

Aa (susceptible carrier);CHA:13,INS:7

Icequill was a strong and well-liked warrior of Peakclan. When Peakclan was attacked, she watched in horror as Hailheart ran away, leaving only her and two other warriors to protect the survivors. She fought viciously and was the last one of Peakclan standing. Once she saw that Cricketkit was bitten, she decided she would take the heavy burden of killing the poor kit, a merciful task. However, she was viciously attacked by Tawnystripe and was strangely beaten by the maternal she-cat, something that had never happened to her before. She was shocked when Hailstar was made leader, and angry that Starclan would choose a coward to protect the survivors, however she does respect Tigershadow and hopes Hailstar gets what's coming to her quickly.

Goldenrose-A long-furred white and speckled pale ginger she-cat with gold eyes.

She/Her;27 moons;Calm,Talented Swimmer

AA (susceptible);CHA:9,INS:11

Goldenrose and her brother, Daisypaw, are the last survivors of Meadowclan other than Nettlebloom. Goldenrose is terrified of the she-cat, knowing what her goals are and what she would do to any of the survivors if she had the chance. She stays far away from the medicine cat and quietly tends to her brother, who has been traumatized from the plague and the loss of the rest of his clan. She is uncomfortable amongst so many strangers but knows if she strikes off alone with Daisypaw there is little to no guarantee they would both survive.

Daisypaw-A short-furred white and speckled cream tom with green-yellow eyes.

He/Him;10 moons;Compassionate,Formidable Fighter

aa (immune);CHA:16,INS:11

Daisypaw sticks close to his sister, Goldenrose, who also forced her way into being his mentor. He is a bleeding heart and is overly attached to anyone who shows him any kindness due to the loss of his clan. He has a great interest in Nettlebloom due to her familiar face but is constantly dragged away from her by a terrified Goldenrose. He keeps to himself unless speaking to Goldenrose, but Cricketkit seems to be one of the only other cats to be able to get him to crack a smile.

Cricketkit-A short-furred white and masked silver tabby she-cat with pale yellow eyes and a bite scar on her neck.

She/They;3 moons;Compassionate

aa (immune)

Cricketkit was abandoned at the start of the plague. Tawnystripe found her and took care of her as the remainder of the clans gathered in Peakclan. However, during the attack on the last fortress she was bitten. Sure the worse was about to happen, Icequill stepped forwards to do the sorrowful task of killing the young kit. Tawnystripe defended her brutally, however, wrestling Icequill to the ground until the she-cat and all the rest of the clan agreed to wait. How much damage could an infected kit do, anyways? It was a miracle and surprise when nothing happened and Cricketkit recovered from the bite. Tawnystripe tends lovingly to the kit, defending her from any attempts by Nettlebloom to use her for "experiments".

[chestcongestion]

Losing Your Grippe- Ch.1: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Chapter one of the Ha/zbin Flu Longfic here we go! I'm having so much fun already with this one and I'm excited to see where we go from here. I hope you guys enjoy!

Word Count: 4,432

Content Warnings: Contagion, Really Really sad Cha/rlie (not triggering, but I know it broke my heart to write sometimes, it's hard seeing her sad)

“Eh’ptschew!” 

Charlie pinched her nose using her non-dominant hand and rubbed at the sensitive skin with her fingers, shuddering under the harsh air conditioning of the elite boutique where she was being fitted for a dress by two succubi- a pair of twins named Isla and Irma. 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, was I holding the tape measure too tight?” Isla asked, sheepishly backing away and examining Charlie’s skin. 

“No, no it’s okay!” Charlie replied with a chuckle, “My nose was just itchy… snff! Can I have a tissue?” 

“Of course, Your Highness,” Irma- who had a measuring tape around Charlie’s thigh- replied, snapping her fingers and whistling for a tiny female imp who was standing against the wall, “Clover! Go get the box of tissues from my office!” 

Clover nodded, scurrying into the back room and coming out with a freshly-opened box of lotion-soft facial tissues, hopping onto a step stool and presenting Charlie with the box, her head held down to avoid meeting the princess’s eyes. 

“Thank you,” Charlie said, plucking a tissue out of the box and wiping the underside of her nostrils before attempting to blow her nose. The attempt was in vain, and after a short burst of moisture Charlie’s sinuses yielded nothing. 

“E-Eih’KtSchhew! ‘KzZsHEW!” Charlie sneezed, her nose trickling slightly as she plucked three more tissues from the box in Clover’s hands, trying and failing once again to blow her nose. 

“Please try and hold still, Your Highness, I’m almost done with your measurements,” Isla pleaded, measuring Charlie’s hips with the tape measure before measuring her inseam. 

“sNFF! Sorry,” Charlie giggled, sheepishly, dabbing at her nostrils while trying to keep still, “Thank you for accepting my order on such short notice, I promise I’ll pay enough to make it more than worth your while.” 

“Oh of course, Your Highness, it means the world to us that Hell’s heir apparent chose our little boutique to make her first ever overlord summit dress!” Isla said cheerfully.

“I wanted to be sure I got something that looked nice, this is my first time getting invited to the overlord summit, usually my dad just sends the sovereign and lesser overlords one of his advisors in his place,” Charlie explained, “This is going to be such a great advertising opportunity for the hotel!” 

“Well, we’ll make sure that you look absolutely stunning on the big day,” 

“Thank you so much!” Charlie said, her voice straining slightly, words grating against a suddenly-scratchy throat in a way that made her cough. 

Stepping down from the measuring platform and getting dressed, Charlie scrolled through her phone while the boutique staff charged her bank card for the cost of the dress. 

“Hey… I just remembered, the seamstress who I made the appointment with, the taller succubus with the star-shaped tail… is she on vacation? I wanted to speak with her about where I could buy a pair of shoes to match my dress… E-Eiih’kShhuu! E-Ehh…Eihh’ksSs-CHEW!” Charlie asked, still holding the tissues underneath her slightly-runny nose before moving a piece of her hair out of her face. 

“Oh, Zurie? She’s been out for a couple of days, she has the flu,” Irma said, nervously fiddling with the buttons on her shirt.

Charlie wilted a bit, frowning, “Aww, that’s terrible, I hope she feels better.” 

“We hope so too, the flu really seems to be going around,” Isla replied solemnly, “Hope you have a lovely day, Your Highness, your dress should be ready by tomorrow morning!” 

“Thank you, I’ll be back to pick it up,” Charlie said, finger-combing her hair and leaving the boutique, muffling an irritated cough with her fist as she climbed into the backseat of her car. 

“Where to now, Your Highness?” the driver asked. 

“Uhm-” Charlie paused, still overcome by her cough, letting a few more loose before the scratchy sensation in her throat settled down, “- Sorry. I need to go to the shoe store across the street from the Richest Cup, please!” 

“Understood, we should be there in fifteen minutes,” the driver replied, turning the key in the ignition and pulling away from the curb. 

Later that afternoon, back at the hotel, Husk was taking inventory of the liquor behind the bar counter, writing down the bottles and fullness quantities on a clipboard as he went through the roster. While he was eyeballing the amount of liquor in a bottle of blue curacao, the front doors to the hotel swung open. 

Razzle rushed through the lobby holding an array of shopping bags, scurrying to carry them upstairs so they could be put away in Charlie and Vaggie’s bedroom. Trailing slowly behind him, visibly overwhelmed, was Charlie, who quickly flopped into a stool at the bar, planting her face against the counter. 

“Rough day?” Husk asked, writing down the amount in the bottle of blue curacao on his inventory sheet. 

“Mmphhh,” Charlie muttered, her shoulders vibrating slightly as she shivered, turning her head so that her voice wasn’t muffled by the countertop, “I have so much to do to get ready for this event.” 

“You’re workin’ yourself up over the overlord summit?” Husk asked, raising an eyebrow, “Pfft, it ain’t even worth the trouble. Then again, ‘suppose I’ve never had to go to a formal event as a lady, let alone one who gives a shit about lookin’ nice.” 

“I’m so nervous, I’m getting my dress made and I looked everywhere for a pair of shoes to match my dress, and I found three pairs but I don’t know which one I’m going to go with because they’re all different heights and they have different decorations and they’re all going to be so uncomfortable on my feet and-” Charlie’s rambling was interrupted by an aggressive hacking cough that she had to quickly cover with her forearm. 

Husk winced, scooping up some ice into a pint glass and pouring Charlie a glass of water, sliding it over to her on a coaster. 

“Thanks,” Charlie choked out, guzzling down half of the glass before turning away to cough again, “My throat’s been so scratchy, it’s killing me.”

Husk frowned, going back to examining the bottles of liquor, “Maybe your body’s shuttin’ down because of how much you’re stressin’ over the summit,” he remarked casually, writing out the amount of cointreau behind the bar counter onto his sheet. 

Charlie polished off the rest of her glass of water, shuddering a bit as she tried to compose herself, “It’s just so hard… I want this to be perfect, I have to examine all of my jewelry and figure out which pieces would go with my dress and whether or not they’d also match my shoes, and I still want them to complement what Vaggie’s gonna wear and I still have to figure out which hairstyle I’m gonna choose and whether that’s gonna go good with my outfit and my shoes and.. And…-” Charlie’s stressed rambling began to falter as tears welled in her eyes. 

Husk stopped working on taking inventory and focused instead on Charlie as she tugged at her blonde locks, her face suddenly coated in a thin sheen of sweat and bags forming under her eyes. 

“I still have to- khff!- have to decide whether or not I’m- Khff! Khff khff!- carrying a purse or not and-” Charlie paused, taking a wheezy inhale and turning away from Husk to release another hacking cough, and another, and another, barely having time to stop and take shallow inhales as her cheeks flushed a pinkish-red and sweat trickled down her face, dripping from her chin and nose to stain the neckline of her suit jacket. 

Husk walked around to the other side of the bar, resting a hand on Charlie’s back and feeling her lungs spasming in her chest with each unproductive and throat-scraping cough, “That cough sounds rough… you alright?” Husk asked, gently patting Charlie on the back in the hopes that it would help. 

Charlie’s coughing fit stopped for a moment and she gasped, finally able to fully catch her breath, wiping at her watery eyes and looking at Husk with a pitiful, exhausted expression on her face, “H-husk?” she whimpered, shivering and leaning into his touch, “I don’t feel well.” 

“I figured,” Husk replied, feeling Charlie’s cheeks with the back of his hand before pressing his heart-shaped palm against her forehead, “Damn… you’re burnin’ up. Here, I’ll help you get to bed.” 

Husk gently grabbed hold of Charlie’s wrists and pulled her onto her feet, not noticing Charlie’s wobbly legs and weak, staggering stance until she collapsed to her knees once he let go of her. “Charlie!” he exclaimed, panicked as he leaned down to the floor and gathered Charlie in his arms, “I’m sorry, I thought you could stand, did you hurt anything?” 

Charlie shook her head weakly, coughing into her fist before wrapping her arms around Husk’s neck, “My hips hurt… and my thighs hurt, but they were hurting before I fell down,” she mumbled, “I don’t wanna go to bed, I just need to lie down… I just… just… E-Eihh’PtSsHEW!” 

Husk cradled Charlie in his arms, rubbing her back as she coughed, before setting her down on the softest sofa in the parlor and watching as she struggled to settle into a reclined position, wincing with every movement as though she was in pain.

“I’m cold,” Charlie said, her voice wavering as she wiped away tears, biting her lip when her febrile shivering only aggravated the aches and pains in her body. 

Husk hurried into the hallway, grabbing a plush blanket from the linen closet and returning to the living room to spread the blanket out over Charlie’s shivering form, “That any better?” he asked, his stomach twisting in knots at Charlie’s discomfort. 

Charlie took in a sharp breath, letting out another aggressive cough, “A little, I’m still f-freezing,” she mumbled, her teeth chattering as she attempted to relax under the blanket, her eyelids drooping, “My head hurts.” 

Husk panicked, fiddling with one of his ears as he wandered back over to the bar and soaked one of his clean dish towels in cool water, wringing it out and returning to the sofa to place it over Charlie’s eyes. For a moment, out of concern and a deep desire to feel somewhat helpful, Husk gently brushed the back of his hand against Charlie’s face, a bit of relief blooming inside of him when she sighed out of comfort.  

“Better?” 

“M-mhmm… E-eihh’kSShuu! Eih’KsSshew!” 

“Alright, you try and get some rest, I’ll make sure you’re alright,” Husk said, gently patting Charlie’s back as she began to cough again, her eyes watering and her cheeks growing flushed again as she struggled to catch her breath. 

“Vaggie…” Charlie whimpered, blinking away her tears and clutching her abdomen, “KHFFF- Khff!” 

Husk’s heart swelled in his chest, and he crawled onto the sofa, gently moving Charlie until her rocket-hot and shivering body was resting against him as she sat in his lap, coughing violently over his shoulder. 

“Vaggie’s still out shoppin’, she’ll be home soon, I promise,” Husk whispered, patting Charlie’s back, “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” 

“My… chest hurts,” Charlie said, her voice growing hoarse from her constant coughing as her nose began to trickle, the skin on her nose bridge flushing pink, “I can’t… can’t be sick, have to go to the- KHHHFF!- overlord summit… already bought my dress.” 

Husk sighed, gently cradling Charlie’s back as she phased in and out of consciousness, occasionally shooting awake to cough violently for a few minutes before dozing off again, still clinging to Husk like a feverish koala. 

Three hours later, Vaggie returned from her shopping trip with Alastor, and Angel returned from his shift at the porn studio at the same time. The three were flanked by Niffty, who had accompanied Vaggie and Alastor on their excursion but was hopped up on sugar from chugging slushies out of boredom while waiting for Alastor to pick out a new bowtie. 

“Fuckin’ finally, you’re back,” Husk groaned, still sitting on the sofa and bouncing a barely-conscious Charlie on his knee as she coughed weakly over his shoulder. 

“Yeah, took longer than I thought, I wanted to pick a dress that would match Charlie’s but I ended up just getting a couple in each color, I tried to text her to ask what dress she’d picked but she never… texted me back,” Vaggie said, her voice trailing off as she noticed her shivering girlfriend still clinging desperately to Husk, her suit jacket draped over the back of the sofa and her dress shirt soaked so heavily with sweat that her bra was visible through the sheer wet fabric, “What happened?” 

“She came back from shoppin’ and faded fast, she hasn’t stopped coughing since I got her on the sofa,” Husk explained, patting Charlie’s back as another violent series of hacking coughs ripped through her chest and scraped her raw throat. Briefly, Husk pressed the back of his hand against Charlie’s neck, frowning at the searing heat of her skin. 

“How long have you been sitting here with her?” Vaggie asked, raising an eyebrow as Alastor watched in anxious silence from several paces away. 

“Few hours,” Husk replied, “She wouldn’t let go of me and she can’t stand up without fallin’ down.” 

Vaggie chewed on her bottom lip, her stomach twisting a bit with worry as she reached out to feel Charlie’s forehead, her cool fingers sending such a wave of relief across Charlie’s hot and sensitive skin that tears of joy trickled from her eyes, “Holy shit…” she said in a hushed voice. 

“Yeah,” Husk said before bracing himself to stand while still keeping a firm grip on Charlie, rising to his feet while Charlie still weakly clung to him in spite of their noticeable height difference, “This ain’t just a cold… somethin’s wrong, I think we should take her to the hospital.” 

Charlie whimpered, pushing away from Husk, forcing him to hold tighter onto her to keep her from crashing and slamming her head against the hard floor, “Noo… no hospital… ‘m not sick- K H FFf- khff-khfff!- mkay, I’m a little sick… but I-I’m okay… KHHFFF-KHFF-KHFF! KOFF-Khhff-khff!- I’m fine,” she pleaded, sweat still running down her flushed cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath, her voice hoarse and her nose slightly runny. 

“Sweetheart, you look awful, I just want to be able to take care of you and make you feel comfortable, and we might not be able to do that without a doctor’s help,” Vaggie said, brushing her manicured fingers against Charlie’s face and smiling when Charlie managed a small, weak smile in return, “Don’t you want to feel better?” 

“Mmhm,” Charlie nodded. 

“Okay, it won’t take too long, we’ll be back before you know it, mkay?” Vaggie explained, smiling when Charlie gave her another weak nod, “Alright, c’mon Husk, let’s go to the urgent care center.” 

“Right behind you,” Husk said, following Vaggie back out to the car with Charlie still in his arms, leaving Angel, Alastor, and Niffty to their own devices. 

“Awww, poor Charlie,” Angel crooned, combing out his fluffy pompadour with his fingers, “I oughtta make myself useful while they’re gone, c’mon Niff, let’s go make sure she’s got somethin’ to eat when she gets back.” 

“Okay!” Niffty cheered, speeding past Angel to the hotel’s kitchen, still riding on a bit of a sugar high. 

“You comin’ Alastor?” Angel asked, resting a hand on his hip as he scrolled through his phone with another hand for a notes app folder filled with recipes he saved. 

Alastor shook his head, sticking out his tongue and shuddering as he pictured the parlor and lobby to be crawling with microbes, practically feeling them on his skin, on his clothes, in his hair, “No, I’m a bit preoccupied… I’m going to go have a bath and then have a few refreshing shots of disinfectant,” he grumbled, snapping his fingers and vanishing into his own shadow. 

Angel shrugged, “What a wimp,” he said with a teasing smile until he heard pans clattering to the ground in the kitchen, “Niffty, don’t break anythin’, I’m comin’!” 

An hour later, Angel and Niffty were looking at silly videos on Angel’s phone after making a large pot of tomato soup that was simmering quietly on the stove, when they heard the sound of Charlie’s coughing as she, Vaggie, and Husk entered the lobby. 

“Welcome back, that was quick,” Angel said, leaning against a wall as Niffty ran in a tight circuit around his feet, still a bit hyperactive. 

“Urgent care was packed, but we got seen pretty quickly once they realized who we brought with us,” Vaggie explained, holding Charlie upright even as her legs shook independent from her febrile shivering. 

“Nice, so what’d they say was wrong wit’ Goldilocks?” Angel asked, reaching out to help Charlie stand as she struggled to stay on her feet. 

“They did a swab test and found out she has the flu,” Vaggie said, “According to the doctor we spoke to it’s been going around like crazy.” 

“e-EIih’KTtSsSHEW!” Charlie sneezed, rubbing her nose with the heel of her palm, “I’m tired…” 

“I know, I know, let’s get you a cool shower so you can get nice and comfortable in bed, Hmm?” Vaggie offered. 

“Okay,” Charlie sighed, leaning against Vaggie and grimacing in pain before turning to cough into her fist, “I’m sorry… it’s so hot… everything hurts.” 

“I know, Babe, I’m so sorry you’re sick,” Vaggie said, gently patting Charlie’s back. 

“I’ll carry ‘er upstairs for ya,” Angel said, scooping Charlie into his arms and glancing at her with concern when he felt the overwhelming amount of heat radiating off of her feverish body. Pushing that sensation aside, Angel held onto Charlie and slowly climbed up the steps toward Charlie and Vaggie’s shared bedroom, Charlie occasionally taking a shaky inhale and coughing into Angel’s shoulder while clinging to him with her arms and legs. 

“You took good care of her while everybody was gone,” Niffty said almost teasingly, standing on Husk’s shoulder, “That was nice.” 

“What? I can’t be nice?” Husk scoffed, tossing Niffty to the floor as though she were a clingy kitten, watching as she climbed him again effortlessly and accepted defeat, letting her use him as a perch. 

“You can… it’s just rare that you’re this nice to anyone… even to Angel,” Niffty observed, “But that’s good, you’re a good kitty.” 

Husk rolled his eyes, “I’ll wear it like a badge of honor, thank you Niffty,” he said, poking her before setting her back down on the floor, “I gotta finish inventory on the bar and I’m sure there’s cobwebs somewhere inside the roof or the storage attic that you can clean up until the sugar wears off.” 

“O o oo! You’re right, that sounds like fun! Bye bye Husk!” Niffty giggled, sprinting up the stairs and vanishing on her way to crawl into the hotel’s makeshift-attic storage space, leaving Husk at the bar with his bottles. 

Relishing in the quiet, Husk scanned his inventory sheet and decided to pick up where he left off, “Okay… I finished cointreau, onto the next one,” he muttered to himself. 

Upstairs, in Charlie and Vaggie’s bedroom, Charlie had gotten out of her cool bath and was wearing a pair of lightweight cotton pajamas. Exhausted, Charlie climbed into bed and curled up under the covers, still deeply frustrated that she’d managed to fall ill so close to such an important event.  

“You comfortable?” Vaggie asked, pulling a thermometer out of the drawer in her nightstand and turning it on. 

“I guess,” Charlie sighed, opening her mouth and letting Vaggie slide the thermometer under her tongue, suppressing the urge to cough until the thermometer beeped, “What’s it say? K HFF- koff-koff!” 

Vaggie squinted briefly at the viewing window on the thermometer, “104,” she said, cupping Charlie’s face with one of her hands. 

Charlie sniffled, a pitiful frown on her face as tears ran from her eyes and trickled down her fever-rouged cheeks. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I- I’m so mad at myself for getting sick- snFF!- I feel hot and everything hurts and I’m so tired and I’m going to miss the summit and it was so important that I got to go this time and the overlords are gonna be mad at me and they aren’t going to invite me again and I paid so much for that stupid dress and now I’m not gonna get to wear it and-” Charlie rambled fretfully as tears continued to fall, hiccuping sobs interrupting her as she struggled to keep it together, “This is the worst and there’s nothing I can do about it and nothing can make it better!” 

Vaggie leaned forward, embracing Charlie in a tight hug as Charlie sobbed violently, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m sure the overlords will understand and you’ll be able to go to the next summit… and we can go on a date when you’re better so you can wear your dress!” she said, rubbing Charlie’s hand in an attempt to comfort her. 

“KHFF-Koff! I don’t wanna wear my dress- SnFF!- I-I wanted to wear a pantsuit but the ladies at the boutique said a dress would look better,” Charlie sobbed. 

“Okay… well, I’ll call the boutique and tell them to make a pantsuit instead!” Vaggie said cheerfully, her heart aching desperately at seeing Charlie in such turmoil, “Does that help?” 

Charlie sniffled, wiping her eyes with a tissue, “I-snFF! Snff!- I guess… I’m sorry Vaggie, I really don’t feel good,” she said, her voice still hoarse and weepy as she tossed the tear-soaked tissue into the trash. 

“I know, Honey, I know… you’re really sick, I completely understand,” Vaggie said with a comforting smile, “What’s one thing I can do to make you feel better before you take a nap?” 

Charlie coughed violently into her forearm, struggling to catch her breath afterward as she rubbed her chest with a splayed hand, “Uhm… E-eihh-KtSshheww! Could I have a glass of apple juice? I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast but the thought of food makes me queasy.” 

“Of course, I’ll be right back,” Vaggie said, giving Charlie a thumbs up and hurrying out of their bedroom and down the stairs, pouring a glass of apple juice into a large plastic cup filled halfway with ice cubes before turning to head back upstairs. On her way toward the staircase, Vaggie was interrupted by Husk, who had gotten to the letter T on his inventory list. 

“She gonna be alright?” Husk asked, his tone slightly curious as he tapped his lengthy claws against bottles of tequila, counting them in his head. 

“I think so… I’m not too worried about anything happening to her, if an explosion can’t kill her I don’t think the flu’s got a chance… but it’s still heartbreaking to see her so miserable,” Vaggie said solemnly, “She’s really upset that she’s going to miss the summit and I’m trying to calm her down.” 

“She’ll be fine, there’ll be others… she isn’t missin’ much,” Husk scoffed, turning to shoot Vaggie an amused smile, “Best of luck, lemme know if there’s anything I can do to help while you’re takin’ care of her.” 

“Will do,” Vaggie replied, rolling her eyes playfully before saluting Husk and walking back up the stairs with the large glass of apple juice in hand.

Alone again with his bottles, Husk began writing down the amount of tequila bottles behind the bar on his inventory sheet when he felt a looming presence around him and scoffed, completely unfazed and unamused with the perpetrator’s antics. 

“Alastor, if you’re gonna skulk in the shadows like a dick, I’m not gonna humor you, either get up or fuck off,” Husk grumbled, looking over to the left of the bar as Alastor appeared out of the shadows, dusting himself off. 

“Euch, no amount of bathing managed to get me clean enough,” Alastor gagged, sticking out his tongue, “Charlie is a lovely young lady, very kind, but also the thought of her germs being on me makes my skin crawl.” 

“Oh please, you weren’t even near her, if anyone should be worried about gettin’ sick it’s me, and you don’t see me freakin’ out now do you?” Husk asked, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms, smirking when Alastor gave him nothing but a flustered mess of indignant grumbling in response, “Mmhm, exactly.” 

“I’m half inclined to avoid you for the foreseeable future if that’s the case,” Alastor said, taking a couple of steps away from Husk and wrinkling his nose in disgust, “Catching this is absolutely not in my plans for the upcoming week… or ever.” 

“You don’t gotta worry about me, I’m fine,” Husk said, looking at Alastor with an unbothered look in his eyes and a playful smirk, “Nobody else is sick, not even close, you’re just a fuckin’ germaphobe.” 

“Indeed I am, and I wear it with pride,” Alastor said, turning his nose up in the air, indignant that Husk was mocking him for his sense of caution. 

“Well, can you wear it with pride someplace else? I’m busy,” Husk said, going back to counting bottles, his heart-shaped nose twitching slightly as he focused. 

“Hmph! If you insist… I’ll be back,” Alastor sighed, retreating into his own shadow and vanishing to go back to whatever he was doing, leaving Husk alone behind the bar with nothing but his own breathing and the quiet ambience of the evening to keep him company. 

For a moment, Husk pondered Alastor’s overblown concerns, realizing that for him the concerns were much more realistic, he spent the better part of three to four hours neck-deep in Charlie’s germs… and the flu was known for being particularly infectious… 

“Nahhh, I’m fine, Alastor’s got the immune system of a wet sock in a wind tunnel, I’ll be fine,” Husk said in a futile attempt to reassure himself, “It was only a few hours, it takes longer than that to catch it from somebody… yeah.” 

Husk paused, going back to examining his inventory sheet in silence when a violent tingling sensation from an unknown irritant radiated through his nose, causing his adorable heart-shaped button to twitch and wiggle. His nose grew itchier and itchier and itchier until- 

“HRrr’SsCHOO! H-hRrr’SSCHUHH!” 

Husk gave a damp sniffle, wiping at his nostrils with the back of his hand. Slightly nervous, Husk swallowed, choosing to ignore the fact that he felt a faint tickle in the back of his throat. 

“I’m fine… I’m fine,” Husk insisted, chasing his willfully ignorant affirmations with a swig of whiskey. 

[thirdtofifth]

Frostwind Virago Medium fey, neutral evil Armor Class 17 (natural armor) Hit Points 237 (25d8 + 125) Speed 30 ft., fly 60 ft. (hover), swim 20 ft. Str 17, Dex 22, Con 20, Int 16, Wis 17, Cha 20 Saving Throws Dex +11, Wis +8, Cha +10 Damage Immunities cold Damage Resistances bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing from nonmagical attacks Senses passive Perception 13 Languages Auran, Common, Elven, Sylvan Challenge 16 (15000 XP) Captivating Call. While speaking, the frostwind virago can force each creature within 300 feet of it to succeed on a DC 18 Wisdom saving throw or be charmed by the frostwind virago for as long as it remains speaking. A charmed creature can only take the Dodge action, and uses its movement on each of its turns to move its full speed toward the frostwind virago. The creature can repeat the saving throw if it takes damage, ending the effect for itself on a success. A creature that succeeds on its save is immune to the Captivating Call of all frostwind viragos for 24 hours. Frostwind viragos can't be affected by each others' Captivating Call. Legendary Resistance (1/Day). If the frostwind virago fails a saving throw, it can choose to succeed instead. Magic Resistance. The frostwind virago has advantage on saving throws against spells and other magical effects. Mind Freeze Aura. Whenever a creature starts its turn within 30 feet of the frostwind virago, that creature must succeed on a DC 18 Wisdom saving throw or have disadvantage on attack rolls and ability checks until the start of its next turn. A creature that fails its save by 5 or more is stunned until the start of its next turn instead. A creature that succeeds on its save is immune to the Mind Freeze Aura of all frostwind viragos for 24 hours. Actions Multiattack. The frostwind virago uses Icy Vortex if it is able to. It then makes two attacks. Frostbite Touch. Melee Weapon Attack: +11 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 24 (7d6) cold damage. Icy Vortex (Recharge 5-6). Each creature within 30 feet of the frostwind virago must make a DC 18 Dexterity saving throw, taking 28 (8d6) cold and 28 (8d6) piercing damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a success.

These fey are the embodiment of the dispassionate cruelty of winter, and the fury of a raging blizzard. They usually live alone, but sometimes use frost giants as servants. They live in the remotest tundra, consuming mammoth meat and the like, getting water from the snow and ice. They are thoroughly malevolent, and despise warm-blooded creatures. They like to torment them before killing them, or lure them into particularly cruel traps. Despite this, they can be reasoned with, and sometimes will work with other creatures toward some common goal. Some powerful frost giant lords have a frostwind virago as an advisor or agent. A typical frostwind virago stands around 5 feet tall and weighs around 90 pounds. 

[cilil]

Day 6 ~ Loss & Betrayal

𓂃🖋 Characters/pairings: Melkor x Mairon 𓂃🖋 Synopsis: With Melkor trapped in the Void, Mairon can no longer reach him and resorts to addressing him in letters to cope with his situation on Númenor. 𓂃🖋 Warnings: References to/discussion of sexual assault. Also Mairon is a hater 𓂃🖋 Oneshot (~1.2k) | AO3

Beloved, 

I made it out of dungeons at last — in body, that is. 

In spirit I have long since been wandering and dreaming to distract myself from the miserable existence that I was subjected to. And subjected myself to; you know as well as I do that at times the long, twisted road of deception is a safer path to tread than brute force. 

I had to let them take me. Though it means little either way. 

The mortal king has, as was to be expected, grown fond of me already. He wants the divine secrets that only our kind has to offer, and more important yet, power and immortality. I promised him all of these things, of course, and he might well get at least a taste of some before I seize victory from his greedy, filthy hands. 

There will be a price to pay, however, that much I know already. Not only the shameful matter of allowing mortals to take me prisoner like a lowly incarnate, but also the realm in itself. 

I despise Númenórë, precious. I hate it. 

It is full of foul, indecent Men, crawling all over the island like the vermin they are. They consume lots of slimy seafood, presumably another "gift" from Ulmo and his ilk, and they audaciously serve me these abominations as well, expecting not only that I should eat them, but also praise their odious cuisine. They love the sea and venture out often, thinking themselves great explorers as if anything they could ever find has not been known for ages untold to us, the makers of this world. They worship our father and the vain Valar who in their eyes are nothing but strange gods they have never seen but bow to nevertheless, while they call us hateful names. 

And yet I must smile and gracefully endure the company of the king and those he surrounds himself with. He has named me his advisor now — a decision he will undoubtedly come to regret, though not a second before my designs for him come to pass and he faces his inevitable doom. 

The queen, it is said, was married to the king against her will, and I can certainly see the utter lack of charm that necessitated a forceful course of action. She does not lie with him willingly, and unfortunately his lust has fallen upon me instead. 

He leers at me when he asks me about our secrets. He corners me when I tell him about power. He touches me when I speak of you. He attempts to hold me when I praise your name. 

He has even had the audacity to call me a servant. 

Precious, 

the king has laid hands on me again. In fact he has only just now exited my chambers, satisfied with his detestable deeds, leaving me to bear the shame and impurity of a mortal's touch. 

I try not to see and not to feel when he comes near me. I try not to recoil or weep or destroy him for the crime of despoiling what belongs only to you. I try not to mourn the loss of our intimacy, long ago though it has been: This form was made for you, made for our love and our pleasure. 

Not for a mortal king.

He grows bolder now, having realised that I will not defend myself, and takes what he wants. And I have to let him. I could, perhaps should destroy him, burn down these chambers, the castle, the entire city with him and flee, but alas, I cannot and will not. For such petty revenge is not enough; the entire realm must fall. 

He does not even have the decency to humbly accept the grace that I show him. He treats me like a common whore, demeans and degrades me, handles me roughly, always takes and takes and takes and never asks. He claims I am nothing but a slave and a prostitute, yet it is him whose mind falls prey to my whispers and whose body cannot resist my beauty. 

I hate it. I hate him. He disgusts me, and no amount of gold or ships or crowns could change that. I need not tell you that only you are King of Kings, and no other could even hope to come close to your glory. I need not tell you that I never wanted any other. 

And yet... no matter how desperately I wish to burn those grasping, grimy, greedy hands whenever it comes into his foolish mind that a mortal could possess a Maia and he reaches for me, I must instead endure. I do not want it. I do not want any of this. But the plan must be executed, so that your enemies will be brought to ruin and returned to the doom you designed for them. 

Worst of all is the knowledge that the king will be back soon. I must admit now that the potency of my charms has become a double-edged sword: So very effective, so very strong is the desire I inspire within the hearts of weak mortal Men, yet being the object of such desire is a most undignified position to be in. 

He is insatiable, thoroughly ensnared, and I am... afraid. 

My love, 

I am distraught, more than I have ever been. I know not what to say. I wanted to cry out to you, but could not allow your name to be sullied by being spoken while another takes what is yours.

Beloved, I have committed the most unforgivable blasphemy against you and our sacred union. I saw it coming, knew it would happen, prayed for your forgiveness in advance, yet it did nothing to dispel the horror of such acts. 

I had to let a mere mortal violate my beautiful fána. I had to let a false king take me. I had to betray both you and myself for the sake of our perfect revenge. 

I want to burn my fána. I will burn it once I no longer need it. 

Even so, I weep. This is the very same fána that you touched, the one that bears the marks of your love. I desperately want to shed a skin so defiled, but the thought of losing what little I have left of you is unbearable. 

Forgive me, my love. Forgive me for letting a filthy mortal have me. Forgive me for sacrificing what is yours as well as mine. I swear that I did it only for you, for only the thought of you can keep me in this world — the thought of how you will smile when you behold the ruin of our enemies, how you will laugh, how pleased you will be with me. 

I have been trying to cleanse myself with water instead, but it is insufficient. I heated it until it was boiling, but it was not enough. 

I still feel his touch upon me, and it disgusts me. 

And if I shall burn to be rid of this filth upon me, so too shall the king and his entire realm. My flames shall feast upon mortal flesh as tribute for my sacrifice, and death shall claim all who remain until there is no one and nothing left of accursed Númenórë and its king. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @sauron-kraut @singleteapot @urwendii

[watermelonsloth]

Hinata Jumping into the Pain Pit is Weirdly Executed

The Pain Arc is among my favorites, but something’s been bothering me about it; Hinata jumping in to save Naruto before she gets folded by the Deva path. Not the fact that she did it(I think it’s a really nice way for her to overcome her anxiety) or even the scene itself, but the fact that it was her.

To me, Hinata’s role in the arc feels very disconnected. She has no presence at the start of the arc. She doesn’t comfort Naruto after Jiraiya’s death, she certainly has no connections to Pain/Nagato or Konan, she has no relevancy in the question about world peace, and I don’t even remember her making a passing appearance. When Pain attacked, she didn’t take out one of the paths or anything(again I don’t remember her even appearing). Then she suddenly has all of the attention on her as she jumps in, proclaims her love, and gets “killed,” which causes Naruto to flip his shit. Then, she’s back to being near irrelevant. Kakashi carries Naruto back, Sakura hugs him, Hinata makes a brief appearance to show she’s alive, and the arc ends. She doesn’t say anything to him, Naruto isn't especially relieved to see she’s alive, and the confession is never addressed.

Do you see why I think this is a weird decision?

She has one moment of relevancy and then she fucks off until the war arc where she will once again have a brief moment to matter before the epilogue. This decision gets even weirder when you take in the bigger picture. For the scene, Kishimoto needed a liked character with an established relationship with Naruto to futilely jump into save him before getting “killed” by Pain. That character’s “death” would cause Naruto to lose control of the nine-tails, resulting in Naruto meeting Minato and yada yada yada you get the point. (Bonus points if that character jumping in progresses that character’s arc.) Now, I’m not saying Hinata doesn’t meet the criteria, but there were certainly better options. To list a few:

Sakura Haruno was literally right there. She is the primary heroine and love interest of the Naruto franchise. She wasn’t a focus character in the Pain arc, but she was at least present. In early shippuden, it was established that she was insecure about being unable to help Naruto in bigger ways. It was also established that she wanted to help Naruto fight back against the Akatsuki. Moments before the Pain Pit scene, Sakura was shown screaming for Naruto’s help so her having a moment of desperately realizing that someone has to help before turning the tables would’ve been a nice scene. Sakura “dying” would mean that Naruto wasn’t just pushed over the edge by seeing another friend die, but by pretty much losing the last member of the original team 7. I could go on about it being in character for her to do and her saying her choice to step in is selfish would be nice foreshadowing to her later actions in the Five Kage Summit arc and her hugging Naruto at the end of the arc would not only be more impactful but make more sense, but this post is long enough already.

Shikamaru Nara would’ve been a nice segway to becoming Naruto’s right hand man later. He was already one of the most present characters in the arc(helping decode Jiraiya’s code and Naruto moving forward) and it would justify the amount of screen time he’s given in both the arc and the manga. I like Shikamaru as much as the next guy, but it is odd how he’s given disproportionately more character depth and growth than the other tertiary characters despite contributing little to the greater themes of the series and stories of the main characters. Him participating in such a major moment would not only make the prior screen time make more sense but him protecting Naruto specifically could be an alternative start of him choosing to become Naruto’s advisor/assistant. Granted, him jumping in wouldn’t be very “protect the king” or “200 iq” of him, so his decision would have to be justified somehow or lead to some sort of character change.

Iruka Umino would’ve been a gut punch. I’m biased and I love Iruka, but sometimes a story needs to twist the knife and this is literally the arc’s darkest hour. He got a little screen time prior to the attack when he comforted Naruto, Iruka’s death was already teased when the Deva path nearly killed him while he was trying to protect someone, and he appears again at the arc’s finale. Iruka “dying” would, at least temporarily, make Shikamaru telling Naruto about the old generation protecting the new all the more grim. The scene could also be a nice call back to chapter one of the series. I’d also like to add that, while any of Naruto’s friends dying would’ve set him off considering the amount of buildup, him reacting so extremely to Iruka “dying” would’ve been undeniably an in character response and it would’ve added at least a little more weight to him choosing to forgive Nagato.

I think I’ve made my case why, without changing anything outside of who jumps in, at least three other characters would’ve made more sense narratively. So, why Hinata? I have two theories as to why Kishimoto thought he should choose Hinata.

1. Kishimoto originally planned to do something more with her character, but ultimately didn’t. Maybe the editors stepped in, maybe he changed his mind, who knows? Not me. I wasn’t there and even if I was, I’m not fluent in Japanese. This would explain both her stepping in specifically and her actually confessing her feelings, but neither being mentioned or relevant again(save for the one movie). It’s also possible that her encouraging Naruto after Neji’s death was that “something more” but it was just awkwardly executed.

2. Hinata is meant to be thematically relevant in the grand scheme of things.

Remember when I said Hinata didn’t have any relevancy in regards to the larger question about world peace? That wasn’t wholly accurate. To explain why, I have to explain the thematic conflict of the Naruto series very quickly.

The series is packed with commentary on humanity, but the thematic question most relevant to what I’m talking about(and arguably the franchise) is “Is it possible for people to understand each other?” (This is specifically in relation to conflict resolution.) This is why talk no jutsu exists, this is why Naruto and Sasuke’s rivalry is so relevant, and this is why the resolution of Naruto is international alliances rather than systematic change or whatever alternative plot resolution people where expecting. This question is lingering in the background since Part 1, but it’s first vocalized in the Pain arc when Nagato asks Naruto if he thinks world peace is possible(which is a stand in for the thematic question of if he thinks two people understanding each other is possible). Naruto answers that he doesn’t know but he’ll find out then spends the rest of the story doing just that. The Five Kage Summit arc is him finding an answer(only if the anger/hatred which would normally cause conflict is directed at a single target), the War arc is him reevaluating that answer once he sees it fail when put into practice(the infinite tsukuyomi/Obito/Madara), and the Valley of the End/Ending is the presentation of the final conclusion(yes). There’s more to it than that and the discussion of how well the theme was executed and if the conclusion was accurate is still open, but all of that is irrelevant in this discussion.

What does Hinata have to do with this? Simple, Hinata is integral in both Naruto reevaluating his answer in the first place and the conclusion he comes to. Naruto treats a large chunk of the war arc like a personal conflict. To him, it’s less of a world war and more of a “Naruto vs Obito/Tobi/Madara.” Because of that, he’s done whatever he can to shoulder all of the weight of the war. However, Neji dying for his sake was like a personal failure. Naruto, unsurprisingly, began to crumble at that failure(with the help of Obito’s taunts). Hinata snaps him out of it(slaps him out of it?) and reminds him of his ninja way. Specifically, she tells him that his conviction to protect his friends is shared by all of the shinobi there. She tells him that it’s not shared hatred or pain that connects all shinobi, it’s the love they have for their comrades(as cheesy as that might sound). That’s all to say that Kishimoto may have chosen Hinata to enter the Pain Pit to connect her to the theme that she’ll later be an impactful player in forwarding. By having her face off against the antagonist that brings the theme to the forefront, it makes her transition into her later role smoother.

However, I still think the execution was weird and the product we ultimately got leaves something to be desired. This isn’t to say that the Pain arc is ruined by this scene by any means—I wouldn’t blame you for thinking this is a nitpick—but I’m still bothered by it. Hindsight is 20/20, but even without hindsight I think the scene could’ve been better. Kishimoto should’ve either chosen a character other than Hinata to jump in and connect Hinata to the theme in some other way(or use the character she’s replaced by if you want to completely scrap her) or he should’ve given her more time to be present in the Pain arc.

[vicit-vim-virtus]

LURAN'S STATS

Name: Luran Sageshadow Race: Elf, high-elf Class: Bard, College of Lore Alignment: True-neutral Background: Noble Age: 120 Gender: Male Pronouns: He / him Height: 1.92 / 6'3" Occupation: Merchant / royal advisor / violin tutor* Weapons: Longsword, dagger Instrument: Violin

STR: 11 DEX: 12 CON: 10 INT: 14 WIS: 15 CHA: 18

SKILL STATS

Athletics: +1 Acrobatics: +2 Sleight of hand: +2 Stealth: +2 Arcana: +3 History: +4 Investigation: +4 Nature: +3 Religion: +3 Animal handling: +3 Insight: +4 Medicine: +3 Perception: +4 Survival: +4 Deception: +8 Intimidation: +6 Performance: +6 Persuasion: +8

CANTRIPS & SPELLS

Cantrips: firebolt, minor illusion, vicious mockery Spells: charm person, cure wounds, detect magic, dissonant whispers, enhance abilities, thunderwave, shatter

* Depending on the verse and when the verse is set, Luran is / was either a merchant (DnD verse I & II), a royal advisor (DnD verse I), or a violin tutor (BG3 verse).

[firafruit]

Crystal Heart Academy Concept Character (Staff Member Edition)

Introducing the Staff from Crystal Heart Academy. Showing their early development while explaning their design and headcanon.

CARIN ARISTO.

Twisted from Dutchess (The Aristocats)

Description:

"A graceful singer and stage actress, yet she decided to become a teacher at her previous school. Most of the Elective classes were taught by her. She's very supportive and gentle when carrying her lessons. " -The Narrator.

Design Points:

Translating Dutchess from a cat to a full human is a fun process. I already know what style I want her to have so I focus more on adding aspect of her lore to her design.

For contex, I give Carin an hour-glass figure and more rounded shape since she's a mother, she is bound to have curves. Her air is shorten to better shape it. And I gave her a pair of cat eye shape. Her lashes are pointed downwords to mimic a rather soft and dreamy look.

Carin has a very 1950's inspired look. The ultra feminim with working women who wear fancy suit but look like a dress type. She covered up her hand with a pair of lace gloves to match her collar bone and her iconic necklace is still there. Top with a parasol acting as her wand. An alternative look I gave her is a mantel that has a lace ribbon to tie it around her waist and baret hat to complete the look.

Carin's Headcanon:

Carin was a singer in a band, before going solo and started acting.

She met her husband there, but due to disagreement she parted ways with him. Still friends, but never romanticly involve anymore.

She had 3 child from her previous marrige and decided to take care of them as a single mother. Their names are: Berlian, Topaz, and Maisy, each name after a precious stone.

Carin was also an alumni of CHA where she was assign at the Glazschoen Dorm. She gain a popular reputation for her talents in art, music, and craftmanshift.

The headmistress invited her to teach the Electives Class available, mainly Art, Music and Home Echonomics.

Carin teaches with patience and kindness, it make students happy chating or ask advice from her when they have a hard time.

Her lessons are always enjoyable and she made sure to note down her students stregth and interest.

She the advisor for the musical theater club. Very pasionate when it involves music and art.

Harriet is the closest with her, they often chat and bond over their fashion taste and Carin also taught him a few tips on gardening.

Carin had crush on Nandita, but far too scared to start a relationship when she isn't even sure if he feels the same way.

[craftercat]

How would you rank the Northern wei dynasty emperors for their talents and capabilities?

Tuoba Gui: 8/10. He founded Northern Wei and greatly expanded its territory and defeated the Rouran. He consolidated his power by abolishing independent tribal chiefs and encouraged agricultural development. However, he became cruel and paranoid at the end of his reign, executing officials for minor reasons, and this led to corruption and rampant crime.

Tuoba Si: 8/10. He was a good administrator, less cruel than his father or his son, and started the idea of Northern Wei emperors actually listening to their advisors. He frequently inquired about the people's hardships and also encouraged agriculture, and fixed the problems of Tuoba Gui's late reign. He was able to fend off Rouran attacks and took lands to the south when Liu Yu died, however he did have a few military failures which bring his rating down.

Tuoba Tao: 8.5/10. He actually reunified the north for a period of time that wasn't 5 minutes. He was also a good administrator and did his best to deal with corruption. However, like his grandfather, he became cruel at the end of his reign. This led to factionalism and political intrigue that caused the death of his crown prince and trusted minister, and was eventually assassinated.

Tuoba Yu: ?/10. I'm not even sure if he counts as an emperor or not, as he was only honoured as a prince. He was a puppet of Zong Ai and killed by Zong Ai when he wanted power for himself.#

Tuoba Jun: 7/10. He allowed the people to rest after the military campaigns of Tuoba Tao, and was more lenient than his grandfather, taking more after his great-grandfather Tuoba Si. He had some success with Rouran, but mixed results with Liu Song, and there was a lot of political intrigue during his early reign over his regency.

Tuoba Hong: 8/10. During his actual reign, he encouraged honesty in officials and was more involved in criminal cases. He did manipulate these cases a few times, however the overall effect was fairer application of laws. He abdicated to his son at 17 to pursue his philosophical interests.

Yuan Hong: 8/10. His sinicisation reforms shaped the culture of the Northern Qi, Northern Zhou, Sui and Tang dynasties. However, it did face a lot of backlash that led to division and conflict during his actual reign. He likely had a role along with Empress Feng in the creation of the successful equal-field system and Three Elders system, which took power away from powerful magistrates and ensured more land was worked.

Yuan Ke: 3.5/10. During his reign, there was a lot of conflict between the powerful and corrupt Gao Zhao and the imperial clan. This fighting further weakened the Northern Wei, especially as his successor was five when he died. He abolished the "子贵母死" system, however this led to the regency of Consort Hu.

Yuan Xu: ?/10. He was a puppet of his mother Empress Hu and the regent Yuan Cha due to being a child. Neither regent was any good and their corruption led to revolts throughout Northern Wei. Empress Hu eventually poisoned him.

Yuan Ziyou: 5/10. He seemed to have talent himself, but ended up a puppet of Erzhu Rong. He killed Erzhu Rong in a coup, however he was killed by Erzhu Rong's relatives.

Yuan Gong: 5/10. Like Yuan Ziyou, he tried to exert influence himself, but the Erzhus were still very powerful. Their corruption led to Gao Huan rebelling and got poisoned.

After this it's just puppets of Gao Huan or Yuwen Tai.

[lunarcovehq]

Baby, it's all I know That you're half of the flesh And blood makes me whole I need you so So take these broken wings And learn to fly

TAKE THESE BROKEN WINGS - PLOT DROP

TW Violence, Gore, Blood, Physical Assault

It was the first truly warm day of the year. The temperatures had reached the mid 70s (that's around 23°C for those who use Celsius) and, as the sun began to set, the warmth wafting in from the water brought along a thick mist that clung in the air, casting an eerie sight over the small Rhode Island town that only grew eerier as one Aiyla Baysal began her walk home.

The banshee had worked late and, now, a quarter past 10, the fae wandered the lonely streets of Sunny Harbor back to the small cottage she called her own. But, as she rounded the bend, the banshee found herself overwhelmed with the urge to scream. Collapsing onto her knees, a desperate and soul shattering cry rang out into the night. A warning that someone was about to die and someone almost did.

At the same time, across town, over in Celestial Hills, a doorbell rang for the past has a way of repeating itself and, as Meena Raja descended the steps of her manor, she found herself stopping short at the door. Her stomach dropped at the sound of a rather distinct thud and the faintest murmur of her advisor who was now coughing up blood. In less than a split of a second, Meena was at Aaliyah Rose's side. But, the damage had already been done. The Clan Advisor had been attacked. Aaliyah Rose's chest had been carved away at with what appeared to be a stake of sorts. Her now exposed heart still beating, but slower now than before, within her chest. Someone had attempted to rip Aaliyah's heart out the way Meena had once received Theodore's supposed heart in a box. But, rather than finish the job, they left her advisor on her doorstep with a note that read-

Your husband and his Council let me take the blame for their misdeeds and now your advisor will take yours.

But, if that wasn't bad enough, Aaliyah Rose would not be the only attack that night. For as the Fae Queen and banshee screamed, a masked figure made their move. Grabbing the fae from behind, they slashed at Aiyla Baysal's wings with an iron knife. Another blood-curdling cry broke from her lips as her knees gave out from under her. Her sight flooded by an illusion her attacker wanted her to see.

Rather than the misty streets of Sunny Harbor, Aiyla found herself on the Town Green back in 1992. A crowd was beginning to form around the coven advisor of the time, River Cassidy, who stood up on the front steps of the Town Hall, watching in silence as the crowd shouted obscenities and questions at her. How could this have happened? How could the hunters have gotten in?

But, rather than answer them, River's gaze locked onto that of the Supreme and Mayor, Yasmin Badawi, who was attempting to push their way through the crowd. "Either you tell them or I will," River warned. But, before River's could utter the truth, the clan leader, Theodore Moore, began to usher the crowd back- Everyone stay back. Stay back- while Yasmin acted as if River had gone mad. River, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to let them in. Just stand down. But, River hadn't been the one responsible for the hunter attack. She had been the only voice in the room who had urged them not to go through with it. The sharp pains in her head from all of the town's peoples memories she had absorbed for her Coven leader mixed with their shouting became too much to bare and, before anyone could stop it, River lunged at Yasmin. But, before the advisor could reach the other, Saskia Alders intervened. She grabbed onto River, using the strength of an alpha to hold her back, as the Fae Queen, Hazal Kaplan, casted an illusion over River to subdue her. They dragged her away. Aiyla watching through the vision as River Cassidy was taken into a backroom as the others decided what they should do with her. The truth, they all decided, would result in anarchy and chaos. A vote was cast and a verdict unanimously made to save their own skin. River no longer stood with them and, while they didn't feel that it was right to strip the witch of her magic given everything she had done for them (and the fact that she was currently holding all of the other residents forgotten memories of the attack in her head), they banished her. She was to leave Lunar Cove and never come back. The Alpha, Saskia Alders, would later announce that River Cassidy was the one to let the hunters in and had tried to attack them all. But, out of self defense, they fought back. River Cassidy was no more and would be pronounced dead the following day in the papers. While, the real River Cassidy lived on, out there, somewhere, having been sacrificed as a pawn in a much bigger game the leaders had been playing.

As the illusion came to an end, Aiyla's vision went dark. The fae leader collapsed on the street as her attacker vanished into the night, leaving behind a note of their own-

Your kind created the Catalyst and now every supernatural will pay the price.

REMINDERS

This will be the last plot drop before the event which is our masquerade event starting on 5/4. These plot drops are completely optional for your character to react to. We also hope these plot drops will inspire starters and different threads to be had between your characters. Please feel free to continue any plot drop threads before this and react to what you would like.

For the fae: There have been multiple attacks tonight. Any banshee in town likely spent the whole night screaming, having either found their Fae Queen through sleepwalking or woke up the next morning with a sore throat. If you are in the Fae Court, your leader has now been attacked. Also, written in the blood of the Fae Queen on both the outside of the Daily Drip & the Selvi house in Sunny Harbor is a note that reads "If you thought you saw the last of me, think again". A message from the Fae Queen's attacker who has been working with the Catalyst.

For all Vampires: Your advisor has been brutally attacked and is currently recuperating at the Moore Manor. Feel free to have your characters react in any way you'd like.  

For the Council: Feel free to HC out the Council Meeting and discuss where the remaining leaders plan to go from here. As for Aiyla & Aaliyah, it’s up to you if you feel they’d be released from the Hospital to join the meeting or if they’d call in or sit this one out. Royce may be still out for this one as well.

For everyone else: Feel free to react to both the attacks and the foreboding message you may have stumbled upon in blood outside of your local coffee shop.

And, as always, we hope you have fun!

[nowandthane]

Snippet Sunday

it is still sunday somewhere in the world so. Was tagged by @daedrabait <3 thank you my dear. im normally too socially anxious to do these tag games but this one is pretty cool! so i will overcome the weird feelings.

gonna tag @mmmchimken @sillyliterature @ficbrish and anyone else who wants to do this! no pressure though <3

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from:

Your first chapter

Your favorite chapter

Your most challenging chapter

Alternatively, if you don’t write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

From Command Me to Love (i really wanted to do my current WIP but I don't really have enough chapters yet lmao)

First chapter (I'll be honest, I would there's so much I'd change about this cha[ter if I was rewriting. But I chose this bit because Aria's and Cassandra's friendship is pretty significant, but Aria never would've went near the Seeker if she hadn't been so desperate)

“Seeker, I have a request to make of you.

“What is it?” Cassandra asked.

“I have a son. He should be in Haven, or near to it, with his guardian Lara, an elven woman,” Aria told her. “Should anything happen to me, I need to know that they will be —” She inhaled sharply. “Will you see to it that they are conveyed safely to my parents in Ostwick?”

“I — yes, of course.” Cassandra considered her. “I apologise. I was not aware — did you not want to see them when we were in Haven?”

“I was not sure if you could be trusted with them then,” Aria said, shrugging. “But it seems you have honour, and I have little choice.”

Favourite chapter (chapter 42. yeah it's very near the end lmao but I remember the joy of writing this, the satisfaction of getting to this point, and how happy i was for the characters, so yeah)

“Mummy!” Aidan’s joyful shout rang out over the din of the crowd, which began to undulate, a wave of people turning to see what he had noticed. Cullen could feel Aidan buzzing with excitement. Unable to help his grin, unable to care about professionalism, he lifted the boy off his shoulders and handed Aidan over to Lara.

Cullen longed to join them as they bounded down the stairs hand-in-hand, the sea of people parting to allow them through, but he stayed standing with Aria’s other advisors. He watched as Aria noticed her family, how she sprinted towards them and the loving embrace the three of them ended in, the two women on their knees, on Aidan’s level. He so rarely saw Lara emotional, but even at this distance he could see the elf wipe away tears from her bright green eyes.

By the time the family relinquished their hold on each other, Aria’s companions had caught up to her. Cullen’s eyes tracked them, glad that none of them were hurt — though he’d had that report already, too. Solas was missing, as the messenger had also warned. The group of them made their way through the cheering people, Aidan in Aria’s arms, Lara beside her.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, her companions all stopped, and Lara as well. With a roll of her amber eyes, Aria shifted Aidan to one arm and grabbed Lara’s hand, throwing a smile at her companions before leading her family up the stairs. Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana all bowed before her as she stood before them.

“I could not have done this without you,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” Josephine said. Leliana nudged Cullen forward with a soft push to his shoulder.

He approached Aria, part of him desperate to touch her, part of him terrified to try in case this was a dream… But she walked right to him, unafraid, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. Cullen wrapped his arms around her and Aidan, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

The roaring of the crowd was overwhelming, but he was grounded now. He had her, and she was safe. She was here. Not a dream, nor a nightmare, but Aria.

“I love you,” he murmured into her ear. She said something in reply that he couldn’t catch over the din, but he felt her body shake with laughter. Aria smiled up at him, bright and joyous, and he didn’t need her words.

Her love was in her eyes.

Most challenging chapter (chapter 22, when they were in the fade. This was so difficult to write, but I’m happy with how it turned out. Chose this snippet because the others are a bit too graphic)

Her feet failed her, tangled, and Aria threw up the contents of her stomach as she fell to her knees.

“Shit, Prickly!” Varric exclaimed. She felt his hand on her back. Why? He should hate her. She should have stayed behind instead of his best friend. That was her duty. Aria knew it was her duty, and she had tried, but she feared dying. She feared it so much she just stood dumbly there and Hawke had pushed her aside, crying out a battle roar as she engaged the Nightmare in battle.

She will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.

And Aria had staggered out of the Fade, hating herself. She couldn’t die. She just couldn’t! Not without seeing Aidan one more time. She had been so fucking terrified at everything the Nightmare had made her witness, felt so much loathing for herself because she had to kill her family, her son — and she knew it wasn’t really them, but Maker forgive her, it had felt real. And she’d murdered them.

Aria shook with unshed tears, sobs barely contained. Solas grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her up.

“Not now, Inquisitor,” he said softly, leading her away. “You can’t break now.”

“Aidan…” Her voice was a barely audible rasp.

“I know. But people are watching,” Solas said quietly.

“Limp,” Cassandra ordered, pulling one of Aria’s arms around her shoulders. Aria did as commanded. It wasn’t hard — her entire body hurt.

And so her friends pulled her away from what was left of Adamant Fortress, hiding her weakness.

The one who repents, who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of the world, she shall know true peace.

Maker, Andraste, forgive me. Forgive my weakness, forgive my doubt. Forgive me.

Hawke, I am so sorry.

[pathfinderunlocked]

Ettercap Vizier - CR8 Aberration

Come into my temple's vestibule, said the spider to the fly.

Artwork is official concept art from World of Warcraft, copyright Blizzard Entertainment.

Ettercaps are generally solitary creatures, but that doesn't mean there aren't leaders among them. Secret underground temples and other places of religious significance are sometimes the domain of ettercap adherents, who follow many of the same demonic gods as the drow. Ettercap viziers serve as advisors, oracles and overseers in these places of power. They may ally with other arachnid creatures more often than with their own kind.

Ettercap viziers summon swarms of spiders, which have more hit points than normal due to their Augment Summoning feat, and then buff the swarms with infectious swarm while keeping their distance from opponents. If an enemy becomes fatigued by an ettercap vizier's aura, it casts slowing decay.

Ettercap Vizier - CR 8

The gangly arachnid creature stands on its hind legs in an upright stance, wearing robes that look like official vestments of some type. Its face is that of a spider, and its hands are long claws.

XP 4,800 LE Medium aberration Init +11 Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision; Perception +17 Aura aura of fatigue (30 ft., DC 18)

DEFENSE

AC 17, touch 13, flat-footed 14 (+3 Dex, +4 natural) hp 95 (10d8+50) Fort +8, Ref +6, Will +11

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft., climb 30 ft. Melee bite +9 (1d6+2 plus poison) and 2 claws +9 (1d4+2) Special Attacks web (+10 ranged, DC 19, hp 10)

Spells Known (CL 8th; concentration +12)     3rd (3/day)—eldritch fever (DC 18), ego whip I (DC 18)     2nd (5/day)—infectious swarm (see text), slowing decay (DC 17, see text), summon swarm (spider swarm only, 13 HP)     1st (5/day)—cure light wounds (touch +9, DC 16), inflict light wounds (touch +9, DC 16), protection from good, stone shield

STATISTICS

Str 14, Dex 17, Con 20, Int 14, Wis 18, Cha 16 Base Atk +7; CMB +9; CMD 18 Feats Augment Summoning, Improved Initiative, Spell Focus (conjuration), Spell Focus (enchantment), Spell Focus (necromancy) Skills Climb +23, Craft (trapmaking) +10, Knowledge (dungeoneering) +12, Knowledge (religion) +12, Perception +17, Spellcraft +12, Stealth +16; Racial Modifiers +8 on Craft (trapmaking) Languages Common SQ spider empathy +17

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Aura of Fatigue (Su) Non-arachnid creatures that move within 30 ft. of an ettercap vizier must succeed on a DC 18 Fortitude save or be fatigued. A creature that is already fatigued becomes exhausted instead. Once a creature has been subjected to an ettercap vizier's aura of fatigue (whether it saves or not), it cannot be subjected to that same ettercap vizier's aura of fatigue again until 24 hours have passed.

Cunning Initiative (Ex) An ettercap vizier adds its Wisdom modifier on initiative checks, in addition to its Dexterity modifier. This is already included in its statistics above.

Detect Alignment (Su) At will, an ettercap vizier can use detect chaos, detect evil, detect good, or detect law as spell-like abilities. She can only use one of these at any given time.

Infectious Swarm As a standard action, as a 2nd-level transmutation spell, an ettercap vizier can grant a swarm within close range an infectious disease. For a number of rounds equal to the ettercap vizier's caster level (usually 8 rounds), whenever the swarm deals damage with its swarm attack, the target is subjected to the following disease:

Swarmtouch Disease (Su) Swarm Attack—injury; save Fort DC 16; onset immediate; frequency 1/day; initial effect target takes -4 penalty on Fort saves and vulnerability to negative energy damage for duration of disease; secondary effect 1d2 Con damage; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is equal to the spell DC.

This spell has verbal and somatic components. Spell resistance applies to the initial casting of the spell, but not to the disease.

Poison (Ex) Bite—injury; save Fort DC 19; frequency 1/round for 10 rounds; effect 1d2 Dex; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is Constitution based.

Slowing Decay As a standard action, as a 2nd-level necromancy spell, an ettercap vizier can release a wave of slowing decay in a 40-ft. burst. All living enemies within the burst take 1d8 points of negative energy damage. Living enemies that are fatigued or exhausted instead take 2d8 points of negative energy damage and are slowed for one round, as the slow spell. A Fortitude save (typically DC 17) halves the damage.

Undead creatures within the burst instead gain a +1 resistance bonus on saving throws for 1 round. Living allies are unaffected by this spell.

This spell has verbal and somatic components. Spell resistance applies.

Spells An ettercap vizier is a divine spellcaster which casts spells spontaneously, as an inquisitor, using Wisdom as its spellcasting ability score, except that it has no orisons, has one less spell known than an inquisitor at each spell level, and has a unique set of spells known instead of using the inquisitor spell list. It does not gain domains or any other class abilities of an inquisitor.

Spider Empathy (Ex) This ability functions as the druid’s wild empathy, save that an ettercap vizier can only use this ability on spiders. An ettercap vizier gains a +4 racial bonus on this check. Spiders are mindless, but this empathic communication imparts on them a modicum of implanted intelligence, allowing ettercap viziers to train giant spiders and use them as guardians.

[kryzobi-wan]

The Sound of Mandalore

Chapter 8/20: So Long, Farewell

Read on AO3

<;< Chapter 7

The ballroom of Sundari Palace was filled to the brim with diplomats from all over the Neutral Systems, as well as a few other friendly faces. Both Bail Organa and Mon Mothma had been glad to accept the invitation, and the young Senator Amidala came dressed in elaborate robes and flanked by a Jedi escort of her own. Satine supposed one could never be too careful, especially if what she’d heard about Amidala’s previous brushes with danger were true.

She watched for a while as more and more attendees arrived, all marveling at the beauty of the palace interior. One man she recognized as Pre Vizsla, the governor of Concordia. Why he was here, she couldn’t tell you. She had certainly not invited him. Whereas once he had been one of her trusted advisors, of late he seemed to be expressing more and more concerning opinions on her rule of Mandalore, and she heavily suspected his involvement in Death Watch.

“What is Governor Vizsla doing here?” she asked aloud, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.

Senator Merrik, who stood next to her, looked up at the older man. “Ah, yes, I invited him. This event is supposed to unite the various factions, after all,” he defended, “For that, both sides must be represented.”

They watched as Vizsla walked through the throne room, stopping and staring at one of the stained-glass windows that depicted Satine for just a moment too long. From there, he found Prime Minister Almec and struck up a conversation with him.

Satine’s stomach twisted with unease, but she tried her best to put it out of her mind for now and enjoy the company of everyone else. It had been a long time since she’d entertained guests in her palace, and although it was exhausting, Merrik was right. This was a good opportunity to accrue some good will from the rest of the galaxy.

-.-.-

“Their dresses are so beautiful!” Tamra was saying, peeking in at the celebration from her place on the terrace outside.

“Did you see the one the Senator from Naboo is wearing?” Brig asked, “Her date can hardly keep his eyes off her!” A few children giggled.

“They dance so well, too,” Greta said, looking wistful.

Lark sighed, turning away from the window. “I wish I could dance.”

Chas laughed, “Yeah, maybe then you wouldn’t be so afraid of all the important people here!” That remark earned him a punch in the chest, but the teasing smile never left his face.

“I could teach you,” Korkie offered. He looked so grown up in his fancy noble clothing that the rest of the children half wondered what he was doing out here with them instead of with the rest of the party inside. “My aunt taught me when I was little,” he finished explaining.

The palace had seen a number of extravagant parties like this one in Korkie’s time here. As the heir to the throne, it had been made quite sure that he learned how to navigate such a situation with grace. His aunt always told him of the massive ball held in her honor when she was crowned ruler of Mandalore, and he wondered how that stacked up against this party. There were more new faces here tonight than he’d seen at other balls. Mandalore had closed itself off to many other planets as tensions began to rise in the galaxy, but even before that the attendees were usually Mandalorian or very close allies. This was something different, and it affected the energy in the room.

Smiling, Lark accepted Korkie’s outstretched hand and allowed him to teach her the basic steps of the Mandalorian waltz. The music that played inside was loud enough to reach the terrace, though muffled a little. Lark found the rhythm to be a little tricky, but was starting to get the hang of it.

Korkie had just taught her how to execute the perfect spin when their teacher Master Kenobi stepped outside, closing the door halfway behind him. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Korkie, ever the gracious gentleman, even at his young age. Satine had raised him well.

“What have we here?” he asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Korkie is showing me how to waltz!” Lark responded, tripping slightly over her feet. They stopped the dance, smiling back at the Jedi. “Why aren’t you in there with the adults?” she then asked, taking note of his usual brown and beige robes.

“Oh, I’m not brave enough for politics,” Master Kenobi laughed. “I’d much rather be out here with you.”

They talked amongst themselves for a little while longer, remarking on particular dignitaries they recognized, until a slower, more lilting song began to play.

“What’s that they’re playing now?” Dreek asked, looking in curiously as the attendees began to seek out partners.

“It’s a Mandalorian folk dance,” Obi-Wan answered, “It was very popular before the Civil War.”

Tamra, Brig, and Lark grabbed onto Obi-Wan’s arm suddenly and bombarded him with pleas of, “Show us!”

He laughed at their eagerness, shying away from their pouting faces. “Oh no, I couldn’t,” he protested, “I’m not a dancer, I’m afraid, and I haven’t danced it since—well, I’m not a dancer.”

His slip of the tongue was lost on everyone except Korkie, who thought he might have some idea as to when the Coruscanti Jedi had learned a Mandalorian folk dance of all things. “Oh, you remember, Master,” he said encouragingly. “Please? What if it becomes important to our… diplomatic studies?”

When Obi-Wan looked as if he was going to say no again, the kids all joined in the now familiar, begrudgingly effective chorus of “pleeease?” Obi-Wan sighed, wondering for the millionth time how he got himself into this situation. If only Anakin could see him now.

(Let it not be said that the Force didn’t have a sense of humor. At that very moment, Anakin Skywalker happened to catch a glimpse of his former Master out the corner of his eye, and he made his way over to the window to watch. He smirked, sipping some sparkling refreshment out of a glass as he observed.)

“Oh, alright, come over here, Greta, you shall be my dance partner.” Greta beamed with excitement and all but skipped over to him with the energy of a firecracker. He removed his outer layer of his robe, wearing only the beige tunic and trousers he wore under it. “Now, it has been a long, long time since this was taught to me,” Obi-Wan started. “First, I’ll bow to you, and you curtsey, Greta, can you do that?” The little girl nodded, and they did just as he explained.

“Like that?” she asked in her sweet little voice.

“Perfect, now we go for a little walk,” he explained, reaching down to grab her tiny hand. “Step this way, 1-2-3-1-2-3-1-2-3 and step together,” he counted, pulling her along and helping with her footwork.

“It’s kind of like learning the footwork for our fencing!” Chas commented, and the other kids murmured in agreement.

“Alright now step hop, step hop, and twirl,” Obi-Wan instructed, though Greta was having trouble keeping up, her eyes glued to their feet as she tried to mimic his motions. Her face was pinched in focus as Obi-Wan attempted to twirl her under his arm, but she ended up bumping into his leg instead and had to be held aloft by her hand lest she fall down.

By now, another figure had appeared in the doorway, smiling softly at the scene before her. She watched, bemused, as Obi-Wan was clearly struggling, and the kids giggled at his expense.

“Well, you’ll have to practice,” he said to Greta, smiling the dorkiest of his smiles. One she hadn’t seen in a long time, and half expected she’d never see again.

Adjusting her gloves, Satine took pity on the poor Jedi and stepped out. She smirked at the other children as she glided over to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get him to turn around and face her.

“Perhaps you need a partner more your size,” she said, laughter in her voice. He spun around, startled by her sudden appearance and slightly embarrassed at the scene she walked in on. Greta grinned and skipped back to the rest of the children, who watched on with interest.

“Ah, yes, that may help,” he said, turning a little red. Satine clasped his hand with both of hers before moving to the starting position, repressing a smile as she did. He held on to her hand tight, suddenly feeling quite unsteady on his feet. As they began, Obi-Wan looked at her face, her beautiful dress, how the light reflected off her golden locks, the understated circlet she wore that showed off her silky hair… She caught his eye while effortlessly completing the steps and smiled, earning a slightly nervous smile in return.

They danced, and Obi-Wan tried his hardest to ignore the butterflies that were seemingly fluttering in his stomach. He spun her around, spellbound by her gracefulness even having known her for so long. Her dress twirled out, more flowing and less rigid than her usual attire. He liked how it looked on her.

As it progressed, the dance brought them closer to one another, and suddenly he couldn’t look away. His eyes were glued to her form, to the flowers in her hair, which hung loose around her face for once. He stumbled slightly, almost imperceptibly, and laughed nervously. Satine, however, was nothing but gracious and encouraging. She was beaming, allowing him to lead her around the terrace as they completed the complex series of steps that this dance required, a perfect picture of elegance. The routine continued, bringing Obi-Wan’s hands to her waist and effectively quashing all ability to form complete thoughts, the entirety of his brain now focused on either the dance or his hyperawareness of just how long it had been since he had held another, touched someone this intimately.

It hadn’t been since Satine.

Just as quickly as the thought appeared, the time came to begin the next phase of the dance. Satine separated from his hands, and he felt the loss deeply, but he dutifully continued with the steps. Satine danced around Obi-Wan to the beat of the music, and in the next musical phrase he did the same around her, sending her a playful look as he did so, coming around to her side and grasping her hand.

In the doorway now stood Tal Merrik, watching the pair with an interesting look on his face. The dance had brought Obi-Wan and Satine even closer, now mere inches separating them from each other. His hand resumed its position around her waist, with the other holding hers in an arc above their heads as they twirled. Her clear blue eyes locked onto his, and he had no choice but to meet her gaze equally, completely mesmerized by her.

Memories played in his mind of when she had taught him this traditional dance, so patient as she delightedly walked him through the steps. They were on the ship headed back to Mandalore, and knowing there was a grand ball in their future, she wanted him to be prepared. Qui-Gon was Force knows where as they danced in the cargo hold. She was a good teacher. He distinctly remembered feigning confusion at the part where he held her in his arms, if only for an excuse to be holding her for a few moments longer. That was before they revealed their feelings to each other. Well, at least before they finally said the words.

Just a few days before.

Anakin looked on from inside, smiling with a thoughtful expression on his face. He turned and left to go find his Senator, leaving the intimate scene behind.

Obi-Wan and Satine twirled a few more times before coming to a stop, frozen in that final position with somehow even less space between them. The music continued to play, but the Duchess and the Jedi were lost in their own world. Her eyes flicked to his lips, and he lowered his arm, leaving it to hover by her side, brushing past the fabric of her dress.

For just a moment, he felt the pull, and it looked like she was going to lean in—to close the gap between them. His eyes fluttered shut and he breathed in shakily, but before anything could happen, he suddenly recalled where he was, and more importantly, who he was. His fingers clutched the fabric of her dress tightly before letting go, and he made himself step back, regret in his eyes even as he did.

And perhaps even a trace of fear.

Satine watched, a disappointed look appearing on her face for just a flash before it was replaced by forced acceptance, and then her usual passive expression.

“I can’t remember the rest of it,” Obi-Wan said in excuse, eyes still glued to Satine despite how he’d tried to pry them away. Satine had no words to speak.

“Master Kenobi, your face is turning red,” Brig observed helpfully.

Obi-Wan brought his hand to his face, rubbing it over his beard. “Is it? I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve danced,” he spoke, which was a lame excuse for someone who remained constantly active in his role as General in the Grand Army of the Republic.

Satine smiled a little, likely thinking the very same thing.

“Beautifully done,” Merrik said, coming out from the doorway and revealing himself. “I didn’t think a Master Jedi from Coruscant would be well-versed in the graces of Mandalorian folk dancing.” That comment came with heavy implications, as all the adults were aware, though none spoke of it. “You make a lovely couple,” Merrik finished, looking between the two with a knowing look.

Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to disappear into oblivion. He certainly didn’t want the Senator to get the wrong idea. He was a Jedi, after all. A Jedi! And he had just—he almost—

His heart sank at the realization that he hadn’t grown at all. He was in the same place he was months ago—years ago. This was the whole reason he had been sent to Mandalore in the first place, and now it was blowing up in his face. He should have seen this coming. Should have known he couldn’t handle it. He was here to help the children, nothing more. To upset the delicate balance of political relations within Mandalore’s government would be a colossal error, one he didn’t think the Jedi Council would easily forgive.

“Yes, well, I think it’s time for the children to say goodnight. Master Kenobi, if you wouldn’t mind…” Satine said a little awkwardly, breaking him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Of course, Duchess,” he responded resuming his formality and trying to shove any un-Jedi like thoughts out of his mind. “We have something special planned for all the guests before they go, right younglings?” They nodded excitedly and responded in the affirmative. With a bow to the Duchess and the Senator, he walked into the palace, nodding for the children to follow him.

“And you were worried you wouldn’t have any fun at the party,” Merrik teased once they’d gone, though in the context of what had happened, what they both knew had occurred, it created an odd sort of tension in the air.

Satine felt deeply uncomfortable all of a sudden. “It’s a bit chilly out tonight, wouldn’t you say?” she said, attempting to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Merrik glanced suggestively outside once more. “Oh, I don’t know. Seemed plenty warm to me.”

Satine clamped her mouth shut and resolved to be as silent as possible for the remainder of the night, her mind far too occupied for anything else. They followed the crowd back through the ballroom and into the throne room, where Obi-Wan was standing to the side with all the children lined up in the center. He cleared his throat and addressed the crowd somewhat nervously. Despite being the Great Negotiator, he’d never been one for drawing the center of attention.

“The children of House Kryze wish to honor you all by performing the Dha Werda Verda for you all,” he announced, and astonished whispers passed between all who recognized the name.

The Dha Werda Verda was a traditional warrior dance of Mandalore, dating back millennia and telling the story of ancient warriors. Whereas the Mandokar was a slower, more flowing dance, the Dha Werda Verda had often been used in preparation for battle, its speed and intensity lending well to building up the warrior mindset. The implication was obvious to anyone with Mandalorian ties: this was New Mandalore acknowledging and reconnecting to the ways of old, while still upholding their promise of peace.

The children performed the dance, shouting the words in Mando’a as they did. The spectators were clearly impressed, some smiling and perhaps remembering when they had learned the story and the dance in their youth. It was something passed down for generations, though it hadn’t exactly been much of a focus for this most recent generation.

The Duchess looked on proudly while the kids took turns sparring to the beat of the drums that played. As each pair took their turn, the rest stamped their staffs against the ground, continuing on with the chanting.

When they finished, the guests applauded. Anakin, who stood out of sight from Obi-Wan, was very impressed with the display. He’d have never expected something like that to be performed under Satine’s watchful eye, especially inside her palace. He’d have to ask Obi-Wan about it later. From what he knew, this was far from what his old Master had been sent here to teach. Somehow, he must have convinced the Duchess to let him train the children to spar, and a small, childish part of himself felt envy at the thought. It passed quickly, however. He had had his time as Obi-Wan’s student and had been on the receiving end of his combat training already. He treasured that time more than almost anything, and it had served him well. The children were fortunate to have such a wise and patient teacher.

After graciously accepting their praise from the crowd, the children bade goodnight to the Duchess, each hugging her in turn. Korkie attempted to ask if he could stay, but Satine urged him off to bed.

‘Perhaps next time,’ Obi-Wan thought amusedly, and he could have sworn the boy heard him, smiling in his direction as he disappeared into the residential wing.

“They are extraordinary, they would surely impress the competition in the Equinox Day contest,” Hondo Ohnaka said, coming out of nowhere beside Satine and Senator Merrik. He somehow was wearing a nicer change of clothes and was gazing dreamily into the distance.

“How did you even get up here?” Merrik asked, honestly just exhausted by the pirate’s antics at this point. He glanced around the room for where the guards may have gone, but didn’t put much effort in. They were probably still down in the prison searching for their once-again missing prisoner, who had clearly already made it far beyond the prison levels.

Before they could even respond, much less stop him, Hondo darted over to Obi-Wan, who was starting to follow the children to where their quarters were. “Kenobi, where do you think you are going? You cannot leave the party so soon! Duchess, tell him he must stay!”

Obi-Wan protested, inching away from the pirate. “No really, I must be going…”

Another figure joined the group, smirking at the chaos his presence would soon bring. “I think it’s a great idea!” Anakin Skywalker spoke, finally making himself known to his old Master and completely throwing off his train of thought.

It seemed the Jedi Master had been stunned into speechlessness and effectively overruled.

The Duchess shifted to draw Obi-Wan’s confused gaze and said in her kind voice, “Of course, we would be happy to have you.”

“I—” Obi-Wan struggled to regain his speech, glancing down at his plain Jedi robes and back up at Satine. “I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion,” he finally spoke, something like panic beginning to unfurl in his chest at the realization that he had no proper dinner attire he could wear even if he wanted to.

“I can help with that,” Anakin stepped in, somehow knowing exactly what was on Obi-Wan’s mind. Before he could protest, he was being dragged away by Anakin, his mind made up for him.

Satine turned to speak to the Senator, but was interrupted by a couple she thought might be from Krownest, if she remembered correctly. She smiled graciously as they spoke to her.

“We just wanted to congratulate you on your wonderful children and their performance!” the woman gushed, and they continued to praise the way they had brought back tradition and incorporated it into their new ways. Another onlooker, however, did not seem so thrilled.

Vizsla stepped in, his face twisted in an expression that looked like he smelled something funny. “Oh, come now, are you so blind as to be fooled by this blatant form of pandering?” he said.

Satine set her jaw in quiet rage. This insufferable man seemed set to sully her perfectly good party, which up until then had been going quite well, despite how she despised such functions usually.

Oh well. Seeing as she couldn’t exactly strike up a fight in the middle of all these important people, she restrained herself and responded calmly. “Governor Vizsla, some of us prefer a base level of civility in our conduct rather than ugly threats from terrorist organizations.”

The Governor twitched, clearly restraining himself from an outburst in favor of a veiled threat. “The sarlaac buries itself in the sand, but sometimes—” he looked pointedly to the chair up on the dais, “she hides behind her throne.” Satine seethed in silence. “Sooner or later, that sarlaac will have to face herself for what she is. A Mandalorian. A reckoning is coming, Duchess, and not just from Death Watch.”

It was a warning, but not one given out of concern for the well-being of New Mandalore.

Satine stiffened her shoulders. “If violence is brought to our planet, Governor, I have no doubt that it will be you leading the charge.”

Vizsla lifted the corner of his mouth in a half-smile. “You flatter me, Duchess.”

“Oh how clumsy of me,” Satine turned back with a look as icy as the surface of Hoth. “I meant to accuse you.” She held Vizsla’s gaze like that for a beat longer before turning and leaving him with those words.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

Hondo, of course, would be the one to break that silence.

“Well, this is awkward.”

-.-.-

Chapter 9 >>

[truckreincarnation]

Introducing: Alvarie Sauer

Str: S Dex: S Con: S Kno: D Wis: A Cha: C

A woman with a somewhat piercing glare and quieter presence, Alvarie tends to loom with her intimidating presence. Not one that feels cold and grand. She could never present those. Her aura is that of a woman who is on the borders of ferality every moment. Eyes hiding the desire to sink bestial teeth and claw into something. Body language that seeks out a warm place in the sun to sink down and rest.

Alvarie is a well respected and powerful hero from the Tal’Nula Collective. Having retired from her days of adventure and heroism, Alvarie now serves the Collective. A representative in some manners and a military advisor in others, these are what brings her to interact with the incarnates now in this game. She acts as a representative of her nation, for security.

Until the game ends, Alvarie will be watching the cast for signs of unchecked danger to her home. While doing so she will help train those who have not shown themselves to be a potential threat. Maybe she will even actually come to like some of the Incarnates, possibly.

[moonspower]

making a sideblog of npcs in vis life like aunts, uncles, other space royals, cousins, his advisor ratana.......... feat muse is one of vis close cousins—by marriage—jaesik cha. he’s a chef......... he’s worked at michelin star restaurants even...

anyway like this and ill link u the sideblog when im done with it.

[timeladyzelie]

🎶✨when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. then, send this ask/tag 10 of your followers 🎶  (thanks @lucyaudley I only have a handful of active mutuals anymore so I don’t typically get tagged in things)

1. Eurovision season is upon us, I cannot go more than an hour without hearing this song in my head. (Käärijä - Cha Cha Cha)

2. My top song on Spotify last year, also somewhat related to my Eurovision brain rot. Do I speak French? Not yet. Will I speak French? My advisor and I hope so. (MIKA - Elle Me Dit)

3. Desperately needing to pivot away from sounding like the only thing I care about is Eurovision, this is also representative of things I listen to. Simultaneously feels like the song I hope may represent a relationship I’m in (if I ever do that kind of thing again) and makes me think of being about 12 in my childhood bedroom, hearing it on my radio on a rainy day. (Todd Rundgren - Hello It’s Me)

4. We sang the first 2 verses of this at my swearing-in ceremony for Peace Corps, and I listen to it a lot when I’m feeling nostalgic. (Salamat Sadikova - Kyrgyz Jeri)

5. This one comes to you courtesy of my taste in Spanish music being almost entirely influenced by my Gen X professor who played us music on Fridays. I had a terrible crush on him (and his wife, who was also my professor in a different semester). Incidentally, it’s also his fault I got so into Eurovision. (Joan Manuel Serrat - Vagabundear)

+1 bc I freaked out some classmates the other week by knowing the words to this one still

https://open.spotify.com/track/2LORjhMsUWDGDqiqbsCC2w?si=83442cfd9cb04841

If you feel so inclined, go for it (but no pressure if not lmao) @cattitpillow @kakkakashi @mythoftheslayer @paxohana @lundsdotter @9puppiesdrowninginapool @look-2-the-western-sky