#Frostbite is Cold Invasion

[bonefall]

Is there a clanmew word for frostbite? Both in cats/animals and in plants.

In Clanmew, frostbite is a Mewprrich Chiki, often shortened to Mewprrichiki. A "Frost Infection." It's seen as the cold "invading" the body of the afflicted, much like any other sickness.

"Traditional" clan medicine believes that all sickness is a sort of battle, the result of the body being "invaded" by outside forces. Drowning is water-invasion. Illness is miasma-invasion. Urinary track infections, usually caused by using unclean dirtplaces, are considered a filth-invasion.

Even depression itself is a lethargy-infection.

So a lot of medicine revolves around the idea of "strengthening" the body part under attack, or 'reinforcing defenses.' Good diets, exercise, and being forced to rest are part of a Cleric's treatments just as much as fennel and mullein are. You can also see how many of their terms for illnesses seem sort of "violent," like Epilepsy being "Attacked by Daydreams."

And, just like a spear is effective against a boar but not an unkindness of ravens, there are different "treatments" that enable the cat to fight their infection.

As a note, there's a big difference in the health mindset between the Clans and Tribe, and it's the reason why Tribe medical science is a lot more "advanced," besides their nearly-invulnerable Stoneteller. The Tribe sees a cat like a small ecosystem, it must be managed just as much as the field and wood must be. The attributes of soil can determine what plants can grow on it, therefore, the attributes of an organ can determine what effects it has on the body.

So in a nutshell; the Tribe has discovered very basic chemistry and have a general idea of "hormone imbalances." Clan cats are working on a "Battle Theory" of sickness. This is why the Tribe is able to advise Clan cats on particularly vexing illnesses, such as diabetes and severe epilepsy.

In Clanmew, plants don't get "infections," they can receive a "blight." A Chawb. There are many types of chawb-- spots, galls, burls. If a cat receives a Chawb, it is something that "cannot be fought." It is either chronic, or terminal.

[behindthesoul]

That’s Not… || Bi-Han x Shang Tsung

Masterlist || 2081 words || read on ao3

con·ven·ient; adj.

Fitting in well with a person's needs, activities, and plans.

"I phoned your office to confirm that this date is convenient"

Bi-Han seeks to harness Shang Tsung's mastery of sorcery to strengthen the Lin Kuei, while Shang Tsung craves the might of the Lin Kuei soldiers and their protection against all who want him to drop dead. Their ambitions forge a shaky alliance, one sealed through a convenient marriage — a union not born of love, but may one day bloom into one.

Bi-Han stands motionless, his broad shoulders straight and stiff as the servants work around him, their movements efficient and silent. The cold stone floor beneath his feet contrasts sharply with the warmth of the water that now pools around his legs. The heat spreads slowly, creeping into his skin, loosening the tension that grips his body like an iron vice. The sensation is not comforting; it feels invasive, as though the water itself conspires to soften him, to strip away the hardness that has defined him for years and years.

A servant dips a large wooden bowl into the water and pours it over his shoulders. The warm liquid streams down his back in slow, deliberate rivulets, soaking the taut lines of his frame. He resists the urge to flinch, his body remaining a fortress of discipline even as the water clings to him, heavy and suffocating. He breathes steadily, his chest rising and falling in measured rhythm, though his jaw tightens imperceptibly.

Another servant approaches, her hands steady as she begins to scrub his back with a rough cloth. The fabric drags against his skin, not harsh enough to cause discomfort, but persistent enough to draw his attention. Her touch is firm and impersonal, yet Bi-Han feels a flicker of unease. He has endured far worse than this – pain, blood, the sting of frostbite – but this is different. This is not a trial of strength or endurance. It is a ritual of submission, a surrender to ceremony and duty.

“Forgive me, Grandmaster,” the servant murmurs, her voice soft and deferential. He does not answer, offering only the faintest nod. Words feel unnecessary, even unwelcome. He focuses instead on the sensations around him: the warmth of the water, the coarse texture of the cloth, the faint echo of dripping water in the chamber.

When the servant steps away, another moves to his side, carrying a small bowl filled with fragrant soap. She dips her fingers into it, the motion precise, almost reverent, before stepping behind him. He feels the first tentative touch of her hands in his hair, and his body stiffens instinctively. Her fingers, damp and slick with soap, thread carefully through the long, dark strands. She works the soap into his scalp with practiced ease, her fingertips pressing gently, massaging circles into his skin.

The sensation is… strange. The pressure is neither unpleasant or painful, but it unsettles him. He feels the warmth of her touch seep into his scalp, spreading outward like ripples in still water. Her fingers move methodically, untangling knots and working the soap into a rich lather, but Bi-Han does not relax. He hates the intimacy of it, the vulnerability of standing here while another person tends to him. His heart asks why, but his mind can’t explain

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if to block out the intrusive sensation. The servant’s touch is gentle but firm, her fingers gliding through his hair with a care that feels unnecessary. He knows this ritual is not for him but for the image he must project – the leader of the Lin Kuei, draped in ceremony and control, even when he wishes to reject.

The water splashes softly as she rinses his hair, pouring warm water over his head in careful increments. It streams down his neck and shoulders, trickling in sharp contrast to the lingering warmth of her touch. His hair grows heavy, slicked back against his skull, and the servant’s fingers follow the flow, combing through the strands one last time to ensure no trace of soap remains.

The silence stretches, broken only by the quiet ripples of the water and the servant’s steady breathing. Bi-Han does not speak. He stares ahead, his dark eyes fixed on the far wall, his expression a mask of cold indifference. But beneath the surface, his thoughts churn. The weight of the coming ceremony presses against him, heavy and inescapable, like the heat of the water surrounding him.

When the servant finishes, she steps back, bowing her head. “You are ready, Grandmaster,” she says softly.

He remains still for a moment, letting the words hang in the air. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reaches for the towel draped over a nearby stand. The soft fabric drags against his skin as he dries himself, the motion mechanical, practiced. He does not look at the servants as they gather the basin and bowls, retreating into the shadows like ghosts.

The water clings to him, dripping from the ends of his hair, pooling at his feet. It feels like a reminder, a tether to the ritual he cannot escape. Bi-Han straightens, the familiar rigidity returning to his posture. Whatever vulnerability the bath has tried to impose on him, he refuses to let it linger.

He takes a breath, slow and steady, and steps out of the basin. The air feels cooler now, the warmth of the water already fading. He is dressed and prepared, but the weight in his chest remains. The ceremony awaits, and with it, the union he has no choice but to accept.

For a brief moment, his eyes flick to the mirror across the room. The man staring back at him is draped in finery and ceremony, but beneath it all, he is still Bi-Han, Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, unyielding and cold. He turns away from the reflection without a second glance. There is no room for hesitation.

The time has come.

The grand hall of the Lin Kuei compound is almost unrecognizable, not being the host of a large event in years. Red and black silks drape from the rafters like waves of water and shadow; it gently shifts in the cold air. Lanterns hang above and proudly emit soft glows on the stone walls. Faint hazes of incense fill the room, curling into the air before disappearing. Bi-Han stands in a corner of the hall, wrapped in elaborate reds and silvers – designed by only the finest Lin Kuei tailors. The heavy layers almost feel constricting, trapping him in the hall. His hair, still slightly damp from earlier, is tied back in a sleek bun, held together by a soft ribbon. He looks around, seeing his Lin Kuei and carefully selected allies stand in rows, faces obscured by masks.

The doors at the end of the far end of the hall creak open, and all eyes turn to Shang Tsung. He saunters in with practiced grace, his eyes locked forward. He’s draped in deep, commanding reds, trimmed with golds so bright they almost glow. Shang Tsung wears his outfit with pride, while Bi-Han suffocates in his clothing. His hair is perfectly combed, falling in beautiful waves around his shoulders, and his eyes illuminate with hidden emotion. He smiles faintly as he approaches Bi-Han, a smile that does not come close to reaching his eyes. The Grandmaster remains stone faced, watching as Shang Tsung closes the distance between them.

The ceremony begins without preamble, the officiant stepping forward – a Lin Kuei elder, his voice low and steady, his eyes avoiding his Grandmaster’s as he recites the ancient words that will bind the two in marriage. Bi-Han stares past his future husband, staring at the decorations Shang Tsung asked – no, demanded to have hung in the halls. “You expect me to wed you in such a drab room, Bi-Han? Do you wish for me to wear rags, too?”

The day continues, moving into a tea ceremony. A small table is brought forward, bearing a porcelain teapot and two cups painted with dragons and phoenixes. Bi-Han kneels first, his movements sharp and precise, pouring the tea with a steady hand. He offers the cup to Shang Tsung, who takes it with a slight bow. Their fingers brush together, and the feeling lingers in the air. Bi-Han eyes Shang Tsung, his eyes not revealing if the touch was intentional or night. The sorcerer follows suit, quickly pouring tea and presenting it to Bi-Han with glamour that feels more like a performance than a genuine act. Their eyes meet again as Bi-Han accepts the cup, Shang Tsung tries to pick at Bi-Han’s thoughts, but if Shang Tsung can be unreadable, so can Bi-Han.

Next comes the exchange of vows, spoken in low, solemn tones. Bi-Han’s words are regal and somewhat dull, each syllable spoken with the calculated cadence of a Grandmaster, not with the heart and soul of Bi-Han. In turn, Shang Tsung almost sings his own fraudulent speech, his voice rich as he promises undying loyalty and partnership – words that would normally be reserved to a lover. Bi-Han easily picks up on the amusement in his tone, as if this were a game; it makes Bi-Han’s jaw tighten.

The final act is the binding ritual, a Lin Kuei tradition symbolizing unity. A length of red silk is brought forward, its surfaces embroidered with silver carnations. The officiant wraps it around their hands and ties a knot with deliberate care. The silk feels cool against Bi-Han’s skin, and cools the flames that internally burst when the warmth of Shang Tsung’s hand met his.

“For the strength of the clan,” the officiant says, his voice echoing through the hall. “May you two move as close as a shadow, and twice as silent.”

“As close as a shadow,” Bi-Han repeats, his tone cold.

“And twice as silent,” Shang Tsung drawls, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

The knot is tightened, binding them together, and the two realize this is the point of no return. The room falls silent and the weight of the moment presses down like a physical force. There’s no fooling anyone that this ceremony is one of love, even ignorance can see the heartlessness in the room. Then, as the officiant steps back, applause deafens the room. Shang Tsung turns to the crowd, grinning at the sight of Lin Kuei soldiers bowing before them. Bi-Han tries to remain still, though his hand can’t help but flex against the silk as if testing its strength.

Rice wine signals the end of the ceremony, served in a goblet etched with symbols Bi-Han doesn’t care enough to look at. Shang Tsung wraps his fingers around the cup first, tilting it toward his now husband in a silent toast before taking a sip. Bi-Han takes the goblet from him and drinks without hesitation, not hiding the fact he downed the rest of the wine; it burns as it drags down his throat. He doesn’t realize that the officiant has removed the silk that tied him to a mistake, he only thinks about how he craves something stronger than wine. Bi-Han sets the cup down, silently giving the attendees permission to leave.

The guests begin to disperse, and soon the newlyweds are left to themselves. They share a glance – their faces both sport blank looks, silently competing to see who looks more dead inside. Uncomfortable silence tries to grow like disgusting mold, but is killed by Shang Tsung.

“I can tell you care not for grandeur, but a smile would not have killed you.”

Bi-Han’s jaw tightens. “You received the wedding you demanded; false happiness was not in our agreement.”

Shang Tsung huffs and closes any gap between the two, pressing their bodies together and wrapping his arms around Bi-Han’s neck. Bi-Han tries to step back, but is held in place by Shang Tsung locking his arms in place, though the force itself is dull – they know Bi-Han could’ve walked away if he truly wanted to. Their eyes meet, and Shang Tsung is able to fully drink in Bi-Han’s details; faint crows feet rest at Bi-Han’s eyes, prepared to grow deeper with age. His nose is crooked, perhaps hinting at past injury. His eyes aren’t as high up Shang Tsung previously thought, the two almost being equal height. He feels Bi-Han stiffen, but makes no effort to move.

“I do believe it is customary to consummate our marriage,” he purrs.

Bi-Han darts his eyes around to see if any stragglers remain in the hall; he accepts to play Shang Tsung’s game once their privacy is confirmed. His hand snakes up to remove Shang’s from his body, and he does his best to restrain a smirk.

“I have concubines to satisfy me, your service is not needed.” And with that, Bi-Han turns to leave the room, leaving a surprised Shang Tsung behind, who calls after him, his voice dripping with irritation.

“Concubines? You chose to mention this after I tied myself to you?”

[imaginarianisms]

northern bred horses may usually be smaller than other breeds across westeros, but they are gentle & intelligent but hardy & resilient through harsh & difficult weather. the elders spoke of such horses being in harmony with the first men since time immemorial, a trusty breed that was almost completely wiped out by the andal invasion that took hold of the vast majority of southern westeros prior to the rhoynar & later the valyrians & the targaryen dynasty. they were often killed by andal farmers as they were wild & eating their crops & fields & later, were killed by the warrior's sons as they were considered demonic horses of demon worshippers, a practice that was later outlawed by aegon the conqueror once he united the seven kingdoms, which gained him much respect from the north & specifically house stark who was known for breeding them. the horses are smaller & built for the northern woodlands, noted for its adaptation to the extreme cold climate, including the ability to locate and graze on vegetation that is under deep snow cover & to survive without shelter in temperatures that reach -70°C/−94 °F at most during year long winters in the north. they have coats for different seasons; their winter coat is extremely dense & their metabolism adjusts & changes to their seasonal needs, in autumn they accumulate large fat reserves while it decreases in winter, avoiding frostbite by reducing the volume of circulating blood during times of extreme cold & they genetically have similar evolution to other animal inhabitants in the far north such as the mammoths. while they're mostly seen in the north, anyone of the free folk who has such a horse is considered a lucky & wealthy individual, for horses are highly prized beyond the wall. sweet & curious, they also serve as highly prized therapeutic animals to work with. recently, in the aftermath of the war of the five kings, the loyal soldiers of house bolton killed many of the horses living in & around the stables of winterfell & settlers of house frey living in the north mercilessly slaughtered every one of the horses they could find, something that greatly offends the northerners but especially house stark. now, under house stark rule once more, the species is rising again as it will forever.

[invaders-cookbook]

Invader's Cookbook #1: Your first Invasion Build

Invading is hard to get into due to the amount of preparation you need to succeed. You need quite a bit of practice to be really good, but you don't always have to be good to be successful at invasions. Your build determines your options. In the first part of Invader's Cookbook you will learn how to make your first build for invading.

Your attributes and Upgrade Level

For your first build, I will suggest a Lightning Dexterity Build for Rune Level 60. It has good all-around damage and survivability, and gives you plenty of options in most situations. The amount of available weapons also makes this build very fun to play!

Start as Vagabond and distribute your attributes like this:

Vigor -> 35

Mind -> 10

Endurance -> 24

Strength -> 15

Dexterity -> 30

Intelligence -> 9

Faith -> 9

Arcane -> 7

It is very important that during your playthrough you do not upgrade any weapon further than +12 or +5 Somber! Matchmaking is based on your level, as well as your weapon upgrade! If you upgrade even one weapon over the +12/+5 Somber threshold, you won't find any matches!

Your Talismans

Your Talismans are necessary additions to your build. There will be 3 talismans that are the most useful for this build and I highly recommend to wear them at all times. These are: Radagon's Soreseal, Great Jar's Talisman and Bullgoat's Talisman.

Your last talisman slot is free for you to choose. You can swap them mid-fight situationally, or wear something like Millicent's Prosthesis for a permanent buff. It's up to you to decide. Useful Situational talismans are: Green Turtle Talisman, Two Fingers Talisman, Shard of Alexander, Arrow's Sting Talisman and Blessed Dew Talisman.

Situational swapping requires thought and some skills, but it's much stronger than not doing it at all.

Use Bullgoat's Talisman to hit at the very least 75 poise. The fashion is up to you!

Weapons

Your arsenal is your most important asset. As an invader, you must swap weapons to adapt to any situation. Don't just carry them in your additional slots, they take up your equip load which can be used to wear heavier armour for better defences and poise!

Dual-wielded Noble Slender Swords will be your main damage-dealing tool. I recommend Endure and Storm Stomp ashes of war on them. Endure helps you trade blows and escape dangerous situations, while Storm Stomp gives you a combo option to deal damage.

Cleanrot Knight Sword with Thunderbolt is a great tool to finish off enemies that are far away, as well as just a good overall weapon that is effective both in the main hand and the offhand.

Antspur Rapier with Bloodhound's Step serves two purposes: Scarlet Rot application and escaping from unpleasant situations. Scarlet Rot is incredibly effective against opponents with high latency. Use Keen affinity to be able to use Rot Grease on the weapon to increase status build-up.

Cold Nagakiba is a an amazing trick that allows you to deal massive damage and apply frostbite using Spinning Slash Ash of War.

Bolt of Gransax is an amazing spear that allows you to shoot a very powerful projectile on high distances. It's most effective when your opponents haven't noticed you yet or are fighting something else. The drawback is high FP cost, but it can also be strengthened by Shard of Alexander talisman

Godskin Stitcher is a great chase-down weapon for those who are running away, as well as a powerful head-to-head combat tool! Most ashes of war are very useful, though I heavily prefer using Piercing Fang or Lightning Strike, Hey, wanna improve at playing Heavy Thrusting Swords? Check out this video!

Grave Scythe is a head-to-head combat weapon that is also great at punishing shield users for installing Elden Ring on their gaming device! Use Sword Dance ash of war for big damage, or Quickstep for powerful combos and dodges!

Claymore is a very reliable weapon that is useful in most situations. Use Piercing Fang, Impaling Thrust or my personal favourite: Storm Stomp. The latter allows you to land a quick and powerful R2 attack on an opponent you land it on.

Stormhawk Axe is a nuclear option that deals significant damage over a big area. Use it sparingly, for it leaves you at great risk of getting hit if you miss. Use for ambushes and sudden turn-and-burns when your opponents least expect it!

Don't forget that this is not a full list of available weapons or ashes of war. You can experiment with any weapon you find interesting or useful! My personal inventory stretches multiple pages at this point. Dexterity Builds are incredibly versatile! Anything that can be infused with Lightning or has Dexterity scaling can be used effectively, even heavier weapons like the Zweihander!

Miscellaneous

Physick Flask

Lightning-Shrouding Cracked Tear is mandatory for this build. It will buff your damage significantly, making your build the most powerful for your level.

The remaining physick slot is up to you. My personal choice lies between Crimsonburst Cracked Tear, Crimson Bubbletear and Opaline Hardtear.

Consumables

Your best case scenario is the one where you have 14 fully upgraded healing flasks, 20 Cracked Pots, 10 Ritual Pots, 10 Perfume Bottles, and as many various boluses as you can gather. For crafting materials see my post on Crafting Materials, Consumables and Community Assistance

How to decrease the downtime between invasions!

Invading is famously time consuming and we simply do not have time to sit around and wait for a suitable world to be found. These two tips will dramatically improve your chances of invading:

Tip #1: Visit as many areas as possible. This will increase the pool of areas you can invade in. Visit every cave, catacomb or secluded area you can find. Note that you don't have to complete them, you just have to visit them once.

Tip #2: Acquire both the Bloody Finger and the Recusant Finger. Use them one after another in succession untill the invasion starts. The way invasions select players to invade is painfully slow without this method, as it scans the pool of available players once every 20 seconds. With this method you can cut it down to 5!

[strelles-universe]

Codes of the Clans - The Escort's Code

Though Escorts are considered the lowest rank in WindClan - often whispered to be the least connected to the rest of clan politics given that they don’t usually stay within the confines of the camp - they are among the most important to ensure that WindClan retains control over their territory. Especially to the world outside of the clans, Escorts are the face of WindClan - the first to encounter trespassers and visitors, to calm them and speak. They are near constantly on the move, patrolling their clan’s territory or stationed at specific Border Posts around their entire territory.

The Border Posts are decently protected - though some of them are out in the open, several have dens that were dug out and expanded by the tunnelers with small entrances that look more like rabbit runs than a cat’s entrance around them. These internal dens allow for Escorts to be on watch for long hours at a time during the sweltering heat and frigid cold preventing both heat-stroke and frostbite. 

Sometimes, even retired Escorts don’t return to the camp for lecturing; finding even sleeping outside on the camp’s clearing to be more smothering than the various border posts. 

1. An Escort’s first duty is to secure the territory

1a. An Escort will be stationed to a minimum of two posts every day

1b. An Escort is expected to mark weakened borderlines if they’re noticed

1c. Even before guards, an escort is WindClan’s first defense against invasion

2. An Escort is expected to have the skills to survive without a patrol

2a. An Escort is expected to teach their apprentice the basics of survival, failure to do so is interpreted as apprentice neglect

2b. The Basics are identified as: solo-hunting, basic herb identification, conflict de-escalation, territory orientation and how to find water in the warm seasons

3. An Escort is to report any and all trespassers to the clan

3a. There is a specific way to report trespassers and all escorts are expected to know the format

3b. The format is species - estimated age - affiliation - intention - longevity

3c. An Escort is to bring regular Visitors to the clan’s camp and assist any pregnant, nursing or injured individuals

3d. An Escort is expected to accompany another clan’s diplomat to the camp and back to the border

3e. Escorts are expected to accompany located cats on the path to the Mother Maw

4. An escort is the clan’s ears - if unusual or concerning rumors reach them, they are to report immediately

[calciumcryptid]

Tell me how other superhero city residents view Gothamites

The other superhero city residents hate Gothamites, and not in the fun city rivalry way but a genuine hatred that stems from annoyance.

I cannot conceive of a universe where Gothamites are not despised by other city inhabitants, because I just know Gothamites entitlement to being the most traumatized residents at all times is intense.

You come online to complain about Captain Cold?

I hope you are ready for a thousand Gothamites in your replies making fun of you for not being able to deal with Mr. Freeze 2.0 and how you wouldn't be able to handle a real ice villain like they do.

Good luck mentioning the fact Captain Cold predates Mr. Freeze, and is not manipulating ice but cold as in the temperature, so your complaint goes beyond a little frostbite to shit air quality and lingering hypothermia.

You come online to complain about Lex Luthor?

I hope you are ready for a thousand Gothamites in your replies making fun of you for having to deal with the worst billionaire and how it is such a shame you Metropolitans can't see the glory that is Bruce Wayne over a sick sense of city pride.

Good luck mentioning the fact Luthor is constantly cloning and trying to kill your city's hero and how it is a genuine concern and that fact should not be fodder for Gothamites propping their local billionaire up for man of the year for the thousandth time.

I just know other citizens are just sick of Gothamites trying to constantly one up them when it comes to the bullshit they have to put up with.

Gothamites go 'You don't understand Gotham unless you are from here' and the other city residents are about to throw them in front of the alien invasion of the week and go 'Cope' because Gothamites aren't unique in that regard.

[dhampiravidi]

older!Jason Todd feelings

apparently I’m having thoughts about my guy today. Who can blame me? 🥰 here's a thing about him & my OC, Jayn, when they're a little bit older...

to start, his FC is Peter Gadiot. (yep, let that sink in.)

ANYWAY--

he's 50-something. when he really thinks about it, he's surprised that he's made it this far. Like all the other vigilantes & Gotham-centric people (including his own partner), he's got his own collection of scars (& foraged Batarangs), but that's to be expected. The usual suspects (Jayn, the old ladies in their* neighborhood, the Bats who were still kicking, and the nighttime escorts) always compliment him on his looks, even if he doesn't think he looks all that special. The Pit has slowed his aging; aside from some deepened smile crinkles at the corner of his eyes and slightly darker skin, he hasn't physically changed in decades. Ah well--there is the bone spur that future asshole!Tim had clued him into (long since removed), the scruff he occasionally lets grow in, and the blue that's slowly returning to his eyes in place of some of the Lazarus-tinted green. He still has the nightmares, and some things (prolonged laughter, horror movies, being surrounded by intense cold) still bother him, but Harley's really helped over the years.

he and Jayn said they'd never get married. They agreed when they were maybe 27 that having an actual wedding would just jinx things. If either of them died too early, the other would resurrect them, and yet...they both preferred to stay on top uninterrupted for a while. So, they had a date night (and day) spent mostly outside Gotham, one which ended with them getting tattoos inspired by Pride and Prejudice: “My heart is and always will be yours,” for her, and "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” for him. Well, that, and then they put their gelato to-go in the fridge before they had a nice round of sleepy sex. Now they've got matching ring tattoos--those were from their 25th not-anniversary last year.

she eventually sets aside her duties as CFO of WayneTech to run the Martha Wayne Foundation. It keeps her busy in a good way. She and Jason publicly live in the Wayne Foundation penthouse, which is close to all the venues used for charity galas and not far from all the places where Jason teaches. Because he wants to help as many as he can, he rotates between being an adjunct at Gotham U, an adjunct at Hudson, a teacher at a big high school (it'd been poor before "the Waynes" donated to it), and an online tutor...all for English and Drama. Jayn limited him to 2 jobs per semester and forbade him from working at Gotham and Hudson simultaneously. Still, she loves listening to his stories about the kids he works with. And they love their teacher, who wears graphic tees and ankle boots with button-ups, and who sometimes brings his pet to class.

the Red Hood isn't seen as often as the other Gotham heroes. Some of them are younger, newer vigilantes who find it comparably easy to fit nightly patrols into their schedules. Sometimes he envies them, missing the feeling of wind combing through his hair as he zips through the sky, or the combination of adrenaline, satisfaction, and relief that comes with saving someone from a creep. Well, he still experiences that stuff, just not as much. First off, the Red Hood is a reserve guy--he only comes out when Frostbite does, which is if shit has officially hit the fan (ex. planetary invasion, No Man's Land Part 2, the regular teams are out of commission, etc.). Then out come the pistols and gear, none of which he's ever thrown away (assuming it still works). Otherwise, he has to stick to riding his motorcycle, sparring with those who know about his past, and going on the occasional international vacation.

they stopped suiting up for patrol a few months before the twins were born. The kids were the result of a few steamy, excited, condom-less nights (some of which also involved getting high). When Jayn got the positive, she and Jason debated all the reasons why they should or shouldn't be parents, including having weird upbringings, living in a dangerous world, and noticing a little gap in their lives that seemed to want kids. Freddie Arwen and Lydia Wayne-Todd looked nothing like each other apart from their light brown skin, but Jason thought his daughters were perfect the moment he saw them. They still are, even though Freddie keeps bleaching the life out of her pretty, dark brown hair and Lydia's cooking typically tastes like stale refried beans. Both left Gotham years ago, but they make sure to visit once a month.

yes, the clown is dead. Yes, Jason was there when they dissolved the body using lye and water. Yes, he was slightly salty, seeing as how it'd taken the Bats forever to kill the creep. In the end, it'd been Ghost-Maker, Bruce's weird (yet impressive, from a crimefighting POV) ex, who'd been in Gotham tracking some illegal shipment. Apparently, Khoa had been a good boy, following Bruce's rules until he completed his mission. About a half hour later, Joker was found dead. There was an informal, 2-day celebration all across the city, one where everyone was kind to each other, like a reverse Purge. It would become a holiday, much to Bruce's chagrin. Oh, well.

when Jason turned 30, Alfred finally admitted to the Bats that he'd been part of some experimental Brit super-soldier program, one that had slightly increased his intellect, reflexes, and lifespan. Not many of them were surprised.

[awkwardpariah]

--Timeline--

Fortress Florida Falls: After a year of blockades, limited air strikes, and supply drops to partisans and loyalist units behind the lines, Federal forces finally launch the combined air, land, and amphibious invasion of Florida. No state had a higher concentration of NDF troops or better equipment. Casualties on both sides were high, and the MAGA government was able to exfiltrate itself from Palm Beach before Federal troops reached the provisional capital of the pretender government.

Winter 2029-2030: Nothing is more deadly than logistics, and during the Winter of 2029-30 more people died from fuel and food shortages than any other cause. In the highly contested Midwest fuel supplies had dried up and overland transportation had evaporated, leaving people behind the lines without food and heat during the Polar Vortex of '29. Those that didn't flee stayed behind thinking they'd live comfortably on generators and canned goods left behind by their panicky neighbors. Power plants died within the first few weeks, and generators ran out of gas not long after. Food supplies in the contested zones lasted only until January, by which point temperatures in Ohio had dropped to as low as -90 degrees F with the windchill. People were burning garbage to stay warm, eating dogs, cats, and rodents to stave off starvation. Most people who died froze to death in the night, others froze trying to flee on foot, and the few that were left were too cold and too sick to last much beyond that. Both sides attempted to keep the region supplied between the Continental Air Lift by the Dems, and rail and truck supplies by the Reps, but after a month of losing troops to frostbite and small skirmishes, the Dems pulled back to the I-80 corridor. The Reps continued probing attacks and roadside bombs along I-80 for much of the winter, but by February most of their troops had withdrawn over the Ohio River into Kentucky. So when the snow melted in Spring 2030, and the 1st Army began its long awaited march into Southern Ohio, all they found miles and miles of abandoned suburbs full of rat gnawed corpses

The War Against Humanity: By spring 2030, US troops from Army Group West began pushing into West Texas, while the 1st Army continued its advance into the South. Everywhere they went, they found evidence of crimes against humanity by the MAGA regime. Slavery, not pre-war prison labor, but the brutal system of the antebellum South had returned. The first to be manacled were existing prisoners, however the hyper punitive laws of the MAGA regime quickly grew the ranks of the incarcerated to virtually anyone who spoke out against their regime. Ethnic minorities were particularly targeted by the NDF and thus made up the bulk of the slave population. An entire market had emerged for the trading of prison labor contracts between agricultural and manufacturing corporations, and while the elites took people as servants and sex slaves. Then there were the death camps. First discovered late in 2029, the extent of the program was now impossible to deny. Dozens of camps had been found, built out of existing prisons. Troops would usually uncover these places by the stench of human remains in uncovered mass graves, their guards having fled to avoid capture. The locals tended to deny outright that they knew about the camps, or in many cases were totally unrepentant about "doing the Lord's work.

Midterm Elections: By Election Day 2030, the war has been dragging on for a year and a half and another winter is approaching with food and fuel rationing, albeit less severe than last year. Needless to say, a lot of voters are well and truly sick of a war that has only brought suffering on a level unseen in American history. The National Union Party exploits this by running a slew of candidates that oppose the Democrats' wartime rationing policies, demanding AOC re-open the oil wells in the Gulf of Mexico and ANWR, and even negotiate with the MAGA regime to bring the war to a peaceful conclusion. Most voters don't buy into this, especially in newly liberated Ohio, Indiana, Florida, Louisiana, North Carolina, and Georgia, and military voters hearts have only hardened against the MAGA regime. But in otherwise well-to-do parts of the country that are unused to the hardships imposed by the war effort, the National Union party's message resonates. Ultimately, the Democrats still hold super majorities in both houses, with the House majority particularly impressive thanks to the repeal of the Permanent Apportionment Act earlier in the year.

Crisis in Canada: 16 million American DPs have turned Ontario into a madhouse. Every resource and essential service was stretched well past its breaking point, and Prime Minister Poilievre's ineffective response resulted in his removal in a vote of no-confidence. Melissa Lantsman fails to form a government, and the Governor General refuses to call for an election with the country in crisis. Despite their pleas for the US to intervene and get their citizens under control so Canada can focus on fighting their own white nationalist insurrection in Alberta, the US can't pull troops from its own front lines. Instead, the US calls on the European members of NATO to intervene, pulling what few US troops are left in Europe to join as a symbolic gesture of solidarity. The International Counteraction Force or ICFOR, more commonly known as Icy Force, deploys to Ontario providing additional security and giving Canada the means to start organizing the deportation of the American refugees to the Eastern Green Zone.

D-Day on the Mississippi: After 2 years of reorganization and rearmament, 2 years of fighting to retake the Midwest and much of the South, Army Group East is finally ready to begin the long awaited Drive Across the Plains. On August 1, 2031 a quarter million troops launch a combined amphibious and air mobile assault on Iowa, Missouri and Arkansas while ground forces in South Texas push north. Canadian troops and Army Group West begin their own advance from British Columbia and West Texas. After a month more than a million troops have landed on the western side of the Mississippi. Casualties are high on both sides, but the NDF's last best troops are simply outnumbered, outmatched, and undersupplied, especially after the Great Fire of 2030 devastated their food supplies. Repairs to bridges will take many more months, but Federal troops can finally begin moving across the Great Plains, eventually uniting the country from Sea to Shining Sea once more.

The End of All Things: As Federal troops move across the plains in armor and with air support the NDF is being chipped away with each passing day. After years of inaction and now repeated defeats, its simply too much for most NDF soldiers, leading to a string of mutinies. Meanwhile MAGA leaders, seeing that defeat is now immanent begin to try to flee or take their own lives in a campaign of uncoordinated mass suicide unseen since the fall of Nazi Germany. As the MAGA government in their new provisional capital of Rapid City tries to determine a course of action, Trump Jr. and the comatose Trump Sr., along with much of their extended family attempt to flee by plane over Canada to a non-extradition country. They're intercepted by NATO F-35s over Nova Scotia and remanded to Federal custody. The capture of Trump and the flight of Trump Jr. demoralizes most of the remaining die hard MAGA supporters, leading to a wave of surrenders. This leaves only the Secessionist factions of the rebel government in Rapid City, and they vote to dissolve the united front and fight their own secessionist campaigns.

<-Part II  \ Part III \ Part IV ->

[infoblogify]

Cold Compress Techniques for Alleviating Tennis Elbow in Freehold

Tennis elbow, medically known as lateral epicondylitis, is a common condition that causes pain and discomfort on the outer part of the elbow and forearm. While it often occurs in tennis players, it can affect anyone who repeatedly uses their forearm muscles. One effective and accessible method for managing tennis elbow pain is using cold compress techniques. In Freehold, New Jersey, individuals seeking relief have a trusted ally in HF Rehab NJ, where cold compress therapy is utilized to alleviate tennis elbow discomfort.

Understanding Tennis Elbow and Its Challenges

Tennis elbow occurs due to the overuse of forearm muscles and tendons, leading to small tears in the tendons that attach to the lateral epicondyle, the bony bump on the outer part of the elbow. This condition results in pain, tenderness, and limited mobility in the affected arm. People engaged in activities involving repetitive gripping, such as tennis, painting, typing, and plumbing, are at a higher risk of developing tennis elbow.

The Role of Cold Compress Techniques

Cold compress therapy is a natural and non-invasive approach to reducing pain, inflammation, and swelling associated with tennis elbow. It involves applying a cold pack or ice wrapped in a cloth to the affected area. The cold temperature helps constrict blood vessels, slowing blood flow to the injured area and subsequently reducing inflammation. In Freehold, HF Rehab NJ has embraced this technique to provide relief to individuals dealing with tennis elbow discomfort.

Advantages of Cold Compress Therapy

Pain Relief: Cold compress therapy is known for its immediate pain-relieving effects. The cold temperature numbs the nerves in the affected area, providing a soothing sensation and reducing pain.

Inflammation Reduction: Inflammation is a common symptom of tennis elbow. Cold compress therapy reduces blood flow to the area, which in turn reduces swelling and inflammation.

Minimized Muscle Spasms: Muscle spasms often accompany tennis elbow. The cold temperature from the compress helps relax the muscles and ease spasms.

Promotion of Healing: By reducing inflammation, cold compress therapy creates an optimal environment for the body's natural healing processes to take place.

Safe and Non-Invasive: Cold compress therapy is a safe and drug-free method that can be easily administered at home or under the guidance of a healthcare professional.

Cold Compress Techniques for Tennis Elbow

Prepare the Cold Pack: Take a cold pack or ice wrapped in a thin cloth. Avoid direct contact with the skin to prevent ice burns.

Apply the Compress: Gently place the cold pack on the outer part of the affected elbow. Hold it in place for about 15 to 20 minutes. Do not exceed 20 minutes to avoid skin damage.

Use Intervals: Apply the cold compress for 15 to 20 minutes, then remove it for at least 40 minutes before reapplying. This prevents frostbite and allows the skin temperature to return to normal.

Repeat as Needed: Depending on the severity of the pain, repeat the cold compress therapy several times a day. Consistency is key to achieving optimal results.

Why Choose HF Rehab NJ for Tennis Elbow Relief

HF Rehab NJ, based in Freehold, understands the challenges that individuals with tennis elbow face. Their experienced professionals recognize the benefits of tennis elbow cold compress therapy Freehold in managing pain and inflammation. HF Rehab NJ offers personalized guidance on how to effectively use cold compress techniques, ensuring that patients receive the maximum relief possible.

Tennis elbow can significantly impact daily activities and quality of life. Cold compress therapy offers a simple yet effective solution for managing the pain, inflammation, and discomfort associated with this condition. In Freehold, individuals can turn to HF Rehab NJ for expert guidance on implementing cold compress techniques. By harnessing the power of cold therapy, HF Rehab NJ aims to provide relief and support the journey toward recovery for those dealing with tennis elbow discomfort in the local community.

[altarfates]

ezreal wants to know more, it’s innate to him, that insatiable curiosity. how different it is to hear tales of desolate, undulating mountain ranges rendered in monotonous greys and glacial white and to meet with someone who had descended from them. It was peculiar to think there were endless stretches of day and night where the crackling hearth was not enough to drive the chill from aching bones. this place, with its verdant groves and thriving foliage, had yet to see a winter so savage that it stripped each attenuated branch of its leaves. he had felt the soft whisper of cold as dark, baleful clouds drenched the undergrowth with rain but never the cruel, numbing bite of snow and ice. how badly he wants to ask him more, transposing those trite narratives with something else, something more vivid, no matter how brutal it might become. ezreal also knows, however, that incessant prying might cause him to hastily close up, kayn was already sparing with his words and seldom showed more emotion than was necessary; if he got any more reticent he might as well have been the gnarled trunk of an old oak. effortlessly he weaves between the towering blades of grass, with each flutter of his wings the wind carries him further and further, kayn’s footsteps are steady, dependable, like a second pulse cradled close to his chest. as the sun breaks through those converging branches it casts the field below in resplendent colours. flowers, eager for that indulgent warmth seem to incline towards it, ezreal has busied himself leaping from one flowerhead, dense with pollen and to the next, ending only as kayn unceremoniously slings the pack off his shoulder and sinks down beside it, hand extended, palm up-right and expectant. he considers feigning offense, that his now yellow, powdered shoes would ever deign to grace that calloused skin of his but finds that thought rather less entertaining than streaking it across the furrows of his life-line. 

the invasive chill is immediate, rising from his skin as if its pallor were struck with frostbite but it’s more bearable like this. he tilts his head up at him, appraising his expression carefully before his mischievous smile reappears, utterly radiant. ❝ there’s never been a winter here quite as cold as your skin, believe it or not. so, from my scope of understanding, that makes you remarkably cold.❞ he leaned down and ran his fingers along the jut of his thumb, it’s a slow, intentional movement as if he were assessing a particularly intriguing artifact. ❝ might be good, as you said, you’d be a far less effective travel companion if you were boiled alive.❞ it’s ezreal’s turn now to withdraw his satchel, pulling back the leaf that curled over its contents with care before regarding him once more, weighing his options.  ❝ so, will you eat it ?❞ he gestures to the bag in offering, eyes glittering with intrigue. ❝ i’m uncertain just what they’re feeding you to make you so…❞ he makes a vague, non-committal hand gesture which he hopes conveys very little of what it should. ❝ anyway, you can turn your nose up at it if you want but it’s good, really good actually.❞

there are countless mysteries in the universe that kayn may never unravel. chief among them is rhaast — the cryptic, aggravating demon who, for reasons beyond comprehension, chose to take up residence in his body and mind. all rhaast ever seems to do is gripe, provoke, and argue over every little thing. and yet, irony of ironies, kayn always finds himself responding, drawn into the very arguments he insists he has no patience for. this disembodied voice with no form, constantly whispering something irritating, always seeking to disrupt or distract. if kayn didn’t know any better, he’d think rhaast was placed in his life as a deliberate curse, a cosmic punishment tailor-made for him, rather than some twisted gift or path to power. it often feels like rhaast exists for the sole purpose of getting under his skin. and yet … these days, somehow, they’ve managed to function like a team — if barely, and only in the stubborn, chaotic way two unyielding forces might grind forward side by side.

then there’s ezreal. ezreal, with his vibrant clothing in every shade kayn never thought he’d see outside of paintings and old books. hues of soft greens, radiant blues, pastels that belong in springtime fields kayn has only ever read about — never touched, never lived in. being near ezreal is like stepping into one of those forgotten pages come to life. he’s never encountered someone quite like him. a fae, a being entirely foreign to kayn’s world and ways, just as kayn must seem alien to him. they are strangers in the truest sense. so when ezreal mentions herbs that might help recover kayn’s lost memories — or better yet, rid him of rhaast forever — kayn doesn’t hesitate. he follows. after all, he’s already crossed frozen wastelands, twisted forest paths, and jagged mountain ranges just to end up here.

❝ possessed, pfft. ❞ ezreal isn’t wrong, though. kayn can’t picture himself ever being as effortlessly talkative as him. he simply doesn’t have much to say, or at least, not much he feels is worth sharing. the few things he’s offered up so far are fragments ezreal’s already heard in passing: vague stories of his homeland, the ever-falling snow, the blood moon, the history of two warring clans. beyond that, there’s nothing personal he feels ready or able to give. ❝ wait ... relatively ? ❞

kayn has come to accept that the ways of the fae are often elusive, and with ezreal, he rarely knows what’s truly going on beneath the surface. it’s a mind he’s a little hesitant to explore too deeply, half-convinced he wouldn’t be able to untangle the whirlwind of thoughts even if he tried. when ezreal makes his next comment, kayn lets out a short scoff, picking up his pace to avoid lagging too far behind. as they break through the treeline into a clearing, he slings his bag to the ground with little ceremony, then lets himself drop beside it with a quiet, weighty thud. ❝ i’m not that cold. ❞ his hand extends then, held out as he waits to see whether ezreal will take it. ❝ maybe you are just ... warm ? besides, the climate here is different. if i were warm-blooded i would be boiling beneath my skin right now. ❞

[suratan-zir]

This is a post of gratitude. Maybe tumblr isn't the most appropriate place for this, maybe it sounds silly and needlessly pretentious coming from a little nobody that I am. Regardless, I have long felt the need to write about it. News about the Leopard tanks from Poland might be a good enough occasion to finally say it.

Dzięki, ačiū, thank you, people of Poland, Lithuania, UK, US and every country that has consistently supported Ukraine since the beginning of the invasion.

Maybe we, Ukrainians, don't say it enough, but we know that we owe our lives not only to our defenders, but to all of you, citizens of countries that didn't abandoned us in these dark times.

Every day on the battlefield my country loses its best men. People who were teachers, doctors, architects and actors, parents, sons and daughters are sacrificing their lives in the name of our survival, our future. Hopefully, with the support of your countries, their sacrifices won't be in vain. Thank you for giving us a chance for the future. Thank you for not leaving us alone in this.

War puts everything into perspective like probably nothing else and it teaches you how to be truly grateful. Only earlier today I wanted to complain that due to the destruction of our infrastructure and emergency power outages, in my apartment it is so cold that I can't even hold the phone in my hands for long - my fingers are freezing. But then I quickly remembered that our fighters in Bakhmut and Soledar are losing their fingers due to the frostbite. I am alive and have a roof over my head thanks to these heroes.

What does this have to do with the topic of this post? Well, the same way I often want to complain about the injustice in this world, I want to write something angry about how russia is not punished enough for the crimes it commits. But then I stop myself, because had the world did not help us throughout these 10 months, had the world just let it slide like it did in 2014, I would likely be homeless, imprisoned or dead, along with millions other Ukrainians. Ukraine could no longer exist by now. Because this is a war of extinction, cultural as much as physical.

Which is why I want to say thank you. Not only for the weapons provided by your countries, but for giving us hope, especially in hard times like these, when the enemy on the eastern front is literally bombarding our troops with cannon fodder in unlimited quantities, turning cities into ruins and meat grinders.

Thank you for helping us to overcome this senseless evil. This post may be cringy and poorly written, but my gratitude is sincere.

[janetfraiser]

☕️ outdoor cats who are allowed to freely roam

First and foremost: I understand this is a cultural shift that appears to be taking off in the USA and is not reflected across the world. I never want anyone to feel guilty for their choices, particularly ones in the past. If you've always had outdoor cats or your family, I'm not saying you're a bad person! I grew up loving my grandmother's cats who were indoor/outdoor, and front declawed! This is just food for thought.

Letting your cats outdoors has no benefits. Indoor/outdoor cats have the same risks as an outdoor only cat - a few hours outside is enough to run into all these issues.

Indoor cats have a life span in the double digits. Outdoor cats are lucky to live past 5 years old.

Cats kill billions of animals every year. Indoor/outdoor cats in particular will kill animals not for food but for fun/enrichment. They can't help themselves. You ever watch a cat start wiggle butt moving at a shadow? They are made for hunting. Here's another link to more sources. Or another outlining how cats are large contributors to small mammal or bird extinctions.

The number varies wildly but the statistics all point to millions of cats killed every year by cars. Some are as "low" as a few million, some sources say over 20 million.

Outdoor cats are exposed to many many diseases and bugs daily. Some are minor issues and some are deadly. Even something as minor as fleas can contribute to a cat's death. Vaccines are great but are never 100% effective. There is still always a risk.

A fence does not contain a cat. Even if it did, other animals can get in.

You might love your cat but other people don't. Cats can be trapped, poisoned, or killed by other people. If they're lucky, animal control might pick them up if they think they're lost. If you did your job, the cat has ID on it to find you. If you didn't, they might be put up for adoption or possibly put down.

Cats get into everything. Animal poisons, garden chemicals, etc can be deadly.

Temperatures vary all the time. Cats have adapted well to warm and cold environments, but as the globe's climate changes, the weather swings get more and more extreme. Frostbite and hypothermia are deadly.

Cats can live 100% fulfilled lives indoors. You have to work a little harder to make it happen, but you can fulfill their enrichment needs. Minor edit to include: supervised outside time with a harness is great!

Cats are an invasive species across most of the globe. Yes, their natural prey is birds and small mammals but it was never supposed to be like this.

If you let your cat outside and it's not spayed or neutered, you best bet your cat fathered kittens or will come back pregnant. If they have access to each other, they're going to make babies. If money is an issue and you live in the US, check this out. Kittens have the worst survival rate of living outdoors with a generous survival rate of 25% of kittens living past 6 months.

That's all I've got for now but there are more reasons, I'm sure. Please! Keep those babies inside!

send me ☕️ + [topic] and i’ll tell you my opinion on it!

[sgcairo]

The Death of a Prince

I had a terrible idea.

Now, for those of you who've been here too long... you know the drill. Nail me straight in the face with the table, especially my bestie who's out there threatening to fold me (@its-a-journal-of-ideals this one's for you 😔👍) because of my horrible ideas.

To preface this, if you thought Anstasiy getting stabbed straight in the chest and going through some serious familial drama was bad, think again.

Because Anastasiy becoming the cryo archon is going to run you over and utterly destroy you.

(THERE ARE SOME BRIEF DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD AND SEVERE INJURY [FROSTBITE] AHEAD. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.)

To set the scene, the Tsaritsa is dead. Blood across the throne room, ice rising from the floor and stained with the blood of those who gave their lives for success, their blades piercing the fallen figure on the throne.

The other Harbingers are occupied, holding off the invasion of the palace while trying to arrange the scattered agents to destroy the threat. Anastasiy flees, he knows he lacks the ability to find the hordes and win. But there's no way to safety, the lab is too far. His папа and father are in the courtyard, delusions blazing and surrounded by bodies. There's a wall of people between them, too many bloodstained halls to dodge. So he ducks into the throne room, it's not far.

The scream of terror rings off the walls at the blood that covers the floor, like a horrifying blanket, the bodies of the dead covered in ice and frozen in a myriad of terrified expressions.

"Your majesty!"

The Tsaritsa does not reply from where she lays upon her throne. Anastasiy hasn't run this fast since that day when he stopped Aurelio from killing a crowd with his delusion because of a mere accident, and he practically slips and trips over himself to get up the crooked stairs. When he finally reaches the top of the stairs, he finds her slumped over a blade, straight to the heart.

It's too much like his own injury. Perhaps he should've taken that as a warning.

But there's something glowing next to the blade, an awfully familiar shape. The gnosis. He has to take it, if the invaders were to find it, they would undoubtedly have the power to kill his family, and he can't allow that to happen. So he reaches for it, using the sword to reach the gnosis, prying it from the cold goddess before him. It's heavy in his hands, freezing like Aurelio's delusion. In fact, his fingers go numb the moment he touches it, shaking as frost spreads over them.

There's no time. He has to find someone, to leave while he still can. Or give it to his папа, he'll know what to do-

Stumbling down from the throne, he holds it tightly, tears gathering in fear at the thought of the possibility that his family is gone. Dead. The power of numbers is not to be underestimated, Anastasiy knows this well.

But has he walks, the gnosis pulses weakly in his hands, gradually gaining more power, glowing brighter and brighter. It's so cold that his arms begin to go numb as well, his breaths misty and harder to force out.

Then it burns.

He almost drops to his knees as ice spreads over his fingers, fusing them to the gnosis. This shouldn't be happening, he's seen the other Harbingers hold the gnoses without reactions before, so why now? Why him? He screams at the fiery, stabbing pain surging up his hands and arms, tears running down his face as he desperately tries to let go, to stop the pain.

But he can't. The ice continues to spread, the pain spreading to his chest, where it feels like someone's tearing into the scar over his heart, the wind in the room picking up with his pained screams and wails, his whole body shaking and eyes so wide with excruciating pain that he can't breathe.

The screams are so loud that they shake the palace and it's grounds. Cryo visions begin flashing and going out as the last of the Tsaritsa's power makes a home in his heart, which isn't even his. Pantalone has never heard such a terrifying, blood curdling scream in his life, but he knows that voice all to well.

"Make it stop! Please, please-"

By the time the Harbingers arrive, it's too late to stop it. A snowstorm fills the room, obscuring the body of the Tsaritsa, Anastasiy's fingers so frostbitten that there's no hope of saving them, the gnosis flashing violently. Dottore is the first to his side, supporting Anastasiy as he screams, wails, cries in pain. The ice of the throne splits under their feet, Anastasiy begs incomprehensible for them to kill him, it hurts so much-

But all they can do is gather and do their best to soothe his pain. Pantalone finds himself praying for the first time that Celestia is kind to his son, that they spare him this misery. Dottore merely holds him, unthinking, running his hands through icy hair, feeling frozen skin through his gloves, the frostbitten blackness of Anastasiy's fingers burned behind his eyelids.

The storm doesn't subside until Aurelio enters the room, covered in blood and limping, but staggering to Anastasiy's side in a blind panic regardless.

"Danya! Danya, oh Archons... Danya!"

The gnosis flashes once, twice, under Aurelio's hands. Then it fades, leaving Anastasiy gasping in shock from the pain, eyes still glazed over, his hair much lighter than before.

"Is it over?"

There's no telling, but Dottore has never run so fast in his life. Orders are issued: bring the other (now ex) archons forth, as quick as possible. This is a matter of the utmost urgency, and the quickest messengers are sent, to bring back the archons at any cost.

The gathering is a reunion, on horrid terms.

"His ascent to power was too much for his mortal vessel. Fear not, it seems he will survive. However... he will not wake for some time. He must regain his strength."

It's too similar to the last time. Pantalone nearly faints in relief, Capitano having to catch him before he can crumble to the floor. Anastasiy is left in the throne room, the bodies having been cleared, rested upon his throne. Over time, his clothes change, to the imperial gown of the cryo archon, a crown of icy spikes mounted upon his head.

When he wakes, he is alone. Months have passed, and offerings are laid before the throne, some familiar, others unrecognizable.

"...Hello? Baba, папа..."

No answer. Is everyone dead? Gone?

"Danya?"

He turns to see his father, pale and sick, leaning heavily on a cane, his eyes wide with shock.

"Danya!"

Pantalone is too weak. Too skeletal in Anastasiy's arms. He can hear voices in the hall, but all he can think about is how horrible his baba looks, from not eating enough.

"Baba... what happened to you?"

"He refused to take care of himself until you recovered."

Dottore stands in the doorway, seemingly having been abandoned by Pantalone. "It's good to see you again, Danya."

Anastasiy doesn't doubt it for a second.

The god of love has risen, where the goddess failed. But he does not seek to destroy the heavens, he has yet to learn of their treachery.

But he lives. No one can hurt him ever again, for the ice around his heart is too strong.

While his hair may have lost its color, his eyes remain the blood red of his rose, an eternal reminder of his true heart.

Her Majesty would've been proud.

End scene.

But that's just a hypothetical. There's no way I would write that in real life... totally no way... I'm totally not hiding my new WIP...

Anyways, I'm going to go now before I get smited-

[natequarter]

CHASE: So, the meddling Doctor. You lead a charmed life. You arrive without a chauffeur, not even a touch of frostbite.

The Seeds of Doom

STYGGRON: I know the Doctor managed to escape, but you [Sarah] must indeed have a charmed life.

The Android Invasion

DOCTOR: It was a deliberate attempt at cold-blooded murder, Governor. And I demand an enquiry. GOVERNOR: You were trying to escape. You've only yourselves to blame for the consequences.

Frontier in Space

DEXETER: Without a scientific understanding of these creatures, we are doomed to fear them forever. DOCTOR: That's not scientific understanding, it's cold-blooded murder.

Full Circle

SCORBY: This power system provides energy for the whole camp. There are wires running from here to every building. So we don't need to dig a hole after all. We just obliterate them. A real fireworks display. SARAH: That's murder. Cold-blooded murder.

The Seeds of Doom

DOCTOR: Oh, all right then. I'll drive you up there in Bessie. LIZ: Bessie?

Doctor Who and the Silurians

HILDA: Really, Miss Smith, this is absurd. I think you must be the sort of girl that gives motor cars pet names.

Robot

DOCTOR: Careful, Sergeant. What a beautiful creature. BENTON: Oh yes, Doctor, beautiful.

The Green Death

SARAH: That was a cruel thing to do. HILDA: Cruel? It isn't human, you know. It has no feelings. SARAH: Oh, it's got a brain, hasn't it? It walks and talks like us. How can you be sure it doesn't have feelings too?

Robot

SARAH: Listen. The Doctor's not just concerned about saving his own skin. He's risked his life before for others. Unlike you, he has principles. SCORBY: Oh, yeah? Well, you listen to me. Now there's just the two of us, so you've got to rely on me. So don't push your luck, because if you do, I'll start again exactly where I left off. Understood? SARAH: You're as mad as Chase, Scorby. Other people don't matter. All these guards, all these guns, it's just a big game to you, isn't it? Gives you a sense of power. You're not complete unless you've got a gun in your hand.

nice little speech from you there, sarah. shall we get you your own sonic screwdriver and a few innocents to sacrifice next?

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Elements

Dannymay 12,022 Human Era, ao3

Danny was unbelievably thankful for Wulf’s lessons on portal making, getting to the borders of the Far Frozen was so much easier now.  Flying past the guards and waving at them, Danny sped along the crisp air currents to the city within the beautiful tundra.  After a bit of looking around, Danny found Frostbite and dove down to tackle him in a hug.  Frostbite spun around to catch him at the last second and they laughed as he fell into the snow.  “One of these days I’m gonna catch you off guard.”

“I’m certain you will, Great One,” he said, standing up and dusting away some snow from his fur and robes.  “To what do I owe the visit?  It’s always a treat to see you here, Great One.”

Danny grinned and shook the snow out of his hair as well, crossing his legs in the air to be at eye level with Frostbite.  “It’s good to see you too!  If you’re not busy I actually had a question that came up when I was talking with Sam and Tucker.”

Frostbite nodded and started walking, while Danny followed at his side.  “Of course, Great One, it’s always a pleasure to see what kind of questions youthful minds will conjure.  What’s on your mind?”

“Well, I had been duplicating myself as much as I could to see how many times over I can copy myself – I’m at like 6 dups now, by the way! – and I got real proud of myself for the progress on it cause I was struggling real hard with that power at first.  And Sam brought up that I got a handle on my cold powers a lot faster than that, and Tucker said it was weird I even have ice powers cause I hate the winter holidays a lot.”  Danny took a deep breath, even though he didn’t need to.  It was a good way to stop and get back on track, even if Frostbite looked amused by his rambling.  “I was wondering what determines what kind of elemental power a ghost develops, cause it had nothing to do with how I became a ghost and I’ve never been all that fondly attached to the winter.  Don’t get me wrong, I love this place, I was just, ya know, wondering.”

Frostbite chuckled and rubbed his chin in thought.  “Well, there are likely several factors to that, Young One, but in truth, it could simply be the fact that as a young ghost your powers are highly fluctuating, and in order to adapt properly to your needs for survival you’re developing several powers that will atrophy or flourish depending on the attention you give to them.  Are there any other elemental powers you remember using?”

Danny’s legs morphed into a tail and he spun on his side while he thought.  “I uh think during Walker’s invasion of Amity Park I grabbed onto this one fish dude’s cable thing he was using to shock Wulf and I shocked him back through it?  That would probably relate back to the accident.  I also made a couple of fireballs when I was in the woods camping with my class.”

Danny stopped and held out a hand, gathering ectoplasm to his palm.  He thought about what it had felt like to make the fire in that moment, and what fire even was as far as he knew.  “Just see the molecules,” he muttered, “and make them shake.”  Blue-green flames erupted into being just over his hand, flickering in the frosty wind, and Danny laughed.  “Frostbite, look!”

“Yes, very good Young One!  Though perhaps this is not the realm to practice the use of fire in,” he said with a laugh as the wind blew out Danny’s flame.

“Is there a realm of fire dragons out there that can teach me how to use fire powers?”  Frostbite nodded and Danny’s eyes went wide and bright.  “Wait really?”

“Of course, Great One!  There are several elemental realms out there, though I cannot say we have the greatest relations with one another as diametrically opposed necromes mean we tend to avoid each other.  I can, however, direct you to a realm where fire or electrical manipulation is common and someone can teach you how to utilize those powers as well.”

Danny hugged Frostbite tight and let out a stream of rapid-fire, “thank you thank you thank you” at the yeti, muffled as it was.  Frostbite returned the hug, and Danny was nearly buzzing with excitement.

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

Hiiiii!

So Wa-sama, may I ask 15- rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning and 20- favorite disney princess movie?

hiii!! :3

alright so for 15, i actually know quite a bit about various types of death and how they feel, so i'm gonna rank them on a scale of most favorable to least favorable

first up is freezing- there's a reason its used for humane euthanasia of small animals (i.e., mice, bees that beekepers have, those invasive moth things.) you just kinda,,, drift off at the end; any frostbite will be numb and at the end you kind of start to feel warm again (fun facts: if youre stranded somewheere cold and you feel absolutely freezing then out of nowhere start to heat up DONT TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF its one of god's little tricks and you will die)

next is drowning- it's scary. you're gonna be scared. it's gonna suck, especially the actual suffocating part. but look on the bright side, the brain can only last 1-3 minutes without oxygen! so it wont be as bad, hell- maybe you'll pass out before then. it's not the best outcome but its not the worst. its kinda one of those "i dislike you but i dont HATE you" kinda murders, plus you can speed away on your yacht after you push the fucker off if the sound of human suffering isnt your thing (you... DO have a yacht, right? otherwise your ass is not getting away with this)

finally is burning- burning has been consistently ranked as one of the worst ways to die, bar none. your eyes will melt out of your skull while you're still conscious. you'll feel yourself choking on the smoke and your entire nervous system screaming out in agony. it'll take its sweet time killing you, too. this is the kind of thing you do to someone thats like, wronged you in an unforgivable, irreversible way. the john wick of killings

tldnr:

freezing- for that insect thats definitely going to die but you feel bad for it and want to put it out of its misery quick

drowning- they suck but if someone interrupted your revenge plan you wouldnt be too torn up about it

burning: [muscle man voice] MY MOM

also my favorite disney princess movie is mulan!!! ^^