#Seafaring Instincts

[firstoccupier]

Under the New Moon's Shadow – Exploring Strategic Possibilities

WPS News Staff ReporterBaybay City, Philippines | January 5, 2025 In the enigmatic quietude of a moonless night lies the conceivable realm of strategic innovation—plans abstractly swirling through the minds of maritime tacticians in the contested waters of Scarborough Shoal. As the new moon approaches on January 10, 2025, thoughts quietly turn towards a night imbued with potential for subtle…

[lightly-toasted-ice]

Shay, Lycan Blood Hunter

Fallen from a metal cocoon in the sky to the depths of the ocean, and dredged up by a crew of seafaring Blood Hunters, Shay is an anomaly to the world she finds herself in. The sole Warforged in a world of more conventional lifeforms, she finds herself to be an outcast among outcasts - a feeling exacerbated by her lifestyle.

Shay being found by Blood Hunters was a great boon for everyone involved, as the crew got a shiny new member, and Shay learned the grim arts of Hemocraft, with the alchemical fluids powering her body making a fine substitute for blood. She traveled with the Hunters for a time, eventually earning her way into following the Lycan Order's path, resulting in her terrifying mechanical hybrid form.

After a few years of service, her crew was decimated by a Leviathan that left her mechanical heart quaking with fear. Unable to shake the nightmares brought forth by the rampaging elemental, she left her crew to hunt the beast on her own, tracking it as far as the Underdark.

However, during her travels, she was waylaid and deactivated. When she awoke once more, she was wired into another machine and surrounded by strange people. On instinct, she lashed out, fighting them off until one of their number convinced her that they were no threat.

From this new party, she learned that whatever had befallen her had left her cursed. The effects were unknown, but those bearing this curse bore the titles of chess pieces, and hers was the Queen. The party covered her in a cloak and set off into the city beyond the cavern where they found Shay, seeking ever more to find the source of their curse.

[serpentface]

Do you have anything already set or thought out for sea-travel in the setting? Is it common, kept mostly in coastal regions or are longer voyages on larger vessels also a thing? Bonus question, and I know that it may be difficult inland especially during a drought, but can any of the characters of the white calf story swim (well or poorly)?

Yeah the majority of interconnected world powers rely on sea trade

The core continental mass in this world is about the combined size of Eurasia + Africa (though laid out very differently (sorry for still no map)) but much of its central-eastern interior is divided by a network of seaways formed by the movements of the continents (picture the Mediterranean - Red Sea but More) on which the majority of travel and trade relies. Other tradeways exist in the open ocean, though mostly close to the coasts and mostly routes to and from the entrances to the Inner Seaways.

Most long distance merchant ships will rely exclusively on sailing, without rowers. I don't really have exact sizes for common merchant ships pinned down, but it's not going to surpass the size of anything widely used in the 'ancient world' (certainly smaller than the biggest found in ancient Rome, as there is no single world power here big enough to necessitate that much imported grain to sustain itself).

Broadly speaking, there are VERY few voyages performed out into the open ocean, outside of fishing/'whaling' ventures and journeys to known inhabited islands connected via trade. As far as the vast majority of peoples know, there's nothing of much interest out there- a continent in the far north is known by most seafaring peoples but is rarely interacted with, and another exists on pretty much the opposite side of the globe from everything else and is virtually unknown (has caelin peoples as its sole sophont inhabitants, dispersed by flight).

Few people have reason to travel great distance outside of the context of trade. Long distance immigration is rare (with the exception of caelin peoples, again due to flight), the vast majority of mass movements of people are done on smaller distance scales or via gradual dispersal, the furthest common travel distances still being relatively close along sea routes.

Like as an example: Imperial Wardin's ethnic makeup (in terms of established populations) is: Wardi (themselves a collection of dozens of tribes largely assimilated into a national identity), Wogan, Cholemdinae, Jazait, the Hill Tribes (<<< all these are native to the region for at least a millenia), Burri, Titen, Kos (contemporary immigrants, or descendants of Imperial Burri occupiers, originating from across a narrow sea to the west), Yuroma, Ummo, Yanti (people from the coastal Lowlands just to the southeast along the White Sea), Ulelilwa (a people from the largest island chain in the White Sea, to the southwest) South Finns, Askosh, Ubiyans (some people from around the Viper seaway). There's a great variety of people here, but those that exist in significant established populations stem from around the three seas that directly border the region.

AS FOR SWIMMING:

Tigran isn't a strong swimmer per se but he's good at holding his breath and floating around, he grew up next to a river and would play in it as a kid. Doesn't have many opportunities to swim these days but likes being around water.

Brakul is a pretty strong swimmer, also grew up around rivers and learned to swim at a young age and enjoys it. He fails at a piss-drunk attempt to drown himself at one point because his treading water and floating instincts kick in (though moreso because the water is like 2 ft deep and mostly mud)

Etsushir is a VERY strong swimmer, most Jazait practicing traditional subsistence methods are taught to swim from a very young age, and he spent most of his life as a fisherman and several years specifically as a pearl diver.

Faiza made a conscious choice to learn to swim and sometimes would swim in the sea as a pastime back home. She loves the ocean and is a very strong swimmer, will go out much farther than would be considered safe or recommended.

Palo avoids open bodies of water (with sunlight sparkling on water one of the very few specific seizure triggers he can identify) and is also too skinny to float effectively, probably could not swim.

Hibrides finds bodies of water that you can't see the bottom of gross and creepy and avoids even touching them, much less swimming. Definitely can't.

Janeys hates being wet in anything harsher than a warm bath and would die on contact before he could even get around to death by drowning.

Couya is under the impression that if she ever had to swim she would simply Know How, but definitely wouldn't.

[jainaism]

“Heartlands” Chapter 1: Summit at Boralus

Some of my favorite moments, beware of spoilers!

She’d counted ten sunrises since that terrible day. And every night since, Jaina had relived the horror of that moment in her dreams, as the city of light and wonder was plucked from the sky over Khaz Algar like a child’s toy. But that nightmare had been real. And Jaina knew that it was just the start. Another Sundering, another Cataclysm. An evil that had a name. Xal’atath.

Jaina and Thrall watched as Danath Trollbane emerged onto the roof. He paused for breath, chest heaving under his red tabard. “By Thoradin’s blood,” he said, “for such a seafaring people, the Kul Tirans do have a fondness for stairs.” Jaina stifled a laugh—she couldn’t help it, despite her foul mood. Danath was the first to respond to her call. He had been in the city for several days already, helping Jaina prepare for the summit. If he was disappointed by the responses from the other leaders as they trickled in, he had never shown it. Instead, he had been a steadfast companion, an excellent sounding board—and a very good friend.

Thrall rubbed his chin. “Interesting. Who commands this garrison?” “My niece, Marran,” said Danath. “As my diplomatic duties draw me to Stormwind, she stands as regent of Stromgarde. I have had word she has been reinforcing her position with the 7th Legion Auxiliary.” He spread his hands. “Her own decision, but I trust she is—” “Stoking tensions with the Mag’har.” Aggra stepped forward, shaking her head. “The Horde granted the base at Hammerfall to the refugee orcs amid the Armistice. After the Fourth War, Overlord Geya’rah and her people had nowhere to go.

“Marran will listen to you, Jaina. I have heard how well she regards you and your mother. I will write to her as well, to tell her of your coming and to prepare the 7th Legion to march. And while I don’t know Geya’rah, I know you, Thrall. The Horde may not have a warchief, but the Kor’kron are yours to command.”

Jaina reached for her staff. “Then so it will be. I will order the fleet to sail for Stromgarde. By the time they arrive, the strike force will be ready. Thrall, you will go to Hammerfall and negotiate with Geya’rah for the Kor’kron.” “I will come,” Aggra said. She stepped around the table to join Thrall. “Geya’rah is as a sister to me.” She laid a hand on her mate’s shoulder. “I promise, she will listen.” “Agreed,” said Jaina. “Danath and I will go to Stromgarde.” “I am sorry, Lord Admiral,” said Danath, bowing his head in apology. “I have been away from Stormwind too long already. Turalyon has sent word that I am urgently needed to rejoin his court. But on my honor, Marran will gladly receive you and your word on this matter.” He smiled.

Thrall nodded. “Luck, my love,” he said. The two clasped hands, then without another word, Aggra took off, sprinting for the northern hillside, which she deftly scaled before disappearing from view. Thrall watched her go, then turned to Jaina. “To Stromgarde, then.”

Jaina spun, instinctively putting herself between Thrall and the archer. She raised her staff high and cast a protective shield for cover. Another whistle, but this time the arrow glanced off the shield. That moment was all Jaina needed to spot her target. There, by the solitary tree at the top of the hill opposite, came a flash of movement. A cloaked figure broke cover, bow raised, quiver bouncing on their back as they fled.

Cursing, she knelt beside Thrall. “Leave it`, I will be fine,” said Thrall, waving her away. He grabbed the shaft of the arrow, still protruding from his flesh, and pulled it free in a single tug. He held up the arrow to examine it. “I hope, anyway.” Jaina peered at the arrowhead. It was smeared with blood, the liquid near black, but there was something else too—another substance, bright blue, oily. Her eyes widened in horror. “Poison? Thrall, you—” Thrall tossed the arrow to one side, then gave his injured shoulder an experimental roll. He winced; the wound was still seeping. “I’ll be fine,” he said, then paused. “But we do need to get to Stromgarde, and quickly.” He gestured to the hillside. “Lead the way.”

[training4theapocalypse]

Finders Keepers Ch 13. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: A little bit of dry humping hehe

Summary: McLaggen takes you to the D.A. Headquarters

A/N: I won't admit how much time I spent on AirBNB looking up lighthouses. This chapter is lots of build-up but I promise the payoff will be worth it.

Masterlist

Tag list: @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer, @daisydark, @intense-sneezing, @lipstickandloveletters, @ichorai (let me know if you want removed at any point btw!)

Chapter 13: Dunkirk

Salty sea air breaches your lungs once more and with a sickening stab, you’re reminded of Azkaban. 

But the air here is warmer. You feel sun on your skin. 

There’s no sun in Azkaban.

You blink, trying to get your bearings.

“Just a little further,” says McLaggen gently, squeezing your hand. It’s always felt small in his. Now it feels almost frail.

You’re atop a barren cliff. The sea glitters calmly on the horizon as the bright sun threatens to lower itself into the waves. Seagulls call to each other as the wind whips your face - their yewling sounds like laughing. You almost want to laugh too. But you’re not sure if they’re laughing with you or at you. You feel filthy compared to your fresh, open surroundings.

You feel the patchy grass under your bare feet as you walk towards the cliff’s edge.

“Cormac, where…?”

“Nearly there.” He stops. “I’m Secret Keeper for our headquarters. The Seafarer’s Beacon.”

As soon as he says the name of the place, the ground vibrates. A large, white object cracks the surface of the ground a few hundred feet away and keeps growing and growing upwards. Debris tumbles as an old lighthouse emerges, sprouting from the cliff like a giant beanstalk. With a shuddering halt, it stops and you gaze up at it, the towering building gleaming in the sunlight.

You gape, open-mouthed. “How did you find this place?”

“It’s my Uncle Tiberius’s. He gave it to us to use while he’s off in Brunei hunting Re’em. But with everything going on, he’s decided to make himself scarce and stay there.”

“And it’s safe? I mean, the Ministry isn’t going to come looking for us here?”

“Oh, they’ll be looking alright. But it’s protected by the Fidelius Charm. Unless the Secret Keeper - me - tells you about it, it’s invisible, unplottable. Impenetrable.”

“Yeah, I remember from the…“ Your N.E.W.T.s seem like they were a decade ago. “The Charms exam…” You trail off. 

“They’re expecting us. They’ll be… God, they’ll be so happy to see you. So happy it worked,” says McLaggen as you approach the arched driftwood door of the lighthouse. He pushes down on the iron handle and the door opens into a vast, circular kitchen.

There’s shrieking and screeches of wood on tile that makes you jump out of your skin. Instinctively you shrink behind McLaggen, hiding away from the noise, gripping onto the soft fabric of his knitted jumper until your knuckles turn white.

“Be cool, yeah?” scolds McLaggen softly and silence falls.

You peer tentatively around his large frame to see Cho Chang, Katie Bell and Leanne Coombes all on their feet around a large wooden table - staring at you, chairs discarded behind them.

“Hi,” says Cho quietly, smiling warmly.

Cho.

You feel your throat constrict when you meet her eyes. Don’t be stupid. You know you should be thrilled to see them. To see them alive. And to see Cho here especially. But all you feel is frightened - your body’s flight or fight response is making every muscle in your body seize up. 

You look down at your fists full of McLaggen’s jumper. They’re covered in dirt and grime. You quickly let go, feeling embarrassed to even be clutching on his clean clothes. 

“I’ll show you where our room is,” says McLaggen, taking your hand again and making a stern ‘quieten down’ gesture with his other to the group that reminds you viscerally of his dad.

A circular staircase spirals around the wall of the lighthouse, leading upward. As you ascend the stairs, you see rooms leading off to the sides - something that would look impossible from the outside. But you’ve been in the magical world long enough not to dwell too long on the weird quirks of wizarding architecture.

McLaggen leads you to the master bedroom near the top of the tower. It’s beautiful. Coral pink with little circular windows like on a ship. There’s another open door off to the side of the room and you can see the gleaming white tile of a bathroom.

“Your things are here,” McLaggen tells you. Your backpack is on the bed next to a folded white towel.

“The Ministry didn’t take them?”

He shakes his head. You feel the fluffy texture of the towel under your dirty fingernails. McLaggen picks up your bag and unnecessarily opens the bathroom door wider for you. He touches your shoulder as you pass. But before you can stop yourself, you cringe away without really meaning to.

He pulls back apologetically.

“Sorry. I’m… I just feel disgusting.”

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You bring yourself to gaze up at him standing in the doorframe with his tousled hair and broad shoulders. Handsome as ever in the pink ambient light. Even if he looks more tired than you’ve ever seen him before, it’s ridiculous for him to call anyone else beautiful - not least you in your current state.

“Shut up, McLaggen.”

Unexpectedly, his face breaks into a wide, contagious smile that makes those gorgeous dimples appear - you can’t resist your mouth twisting into one too. You’re you. You’re still you. And he’s still him.

He gives you your backpack and you go to shut the door but pause, meeting his eyes again.

“Can you stay here?”

“Of course. Anything.”

Your throat tightens again so you just press the bathroom door shut. With a deep breath, you bring yourself to look in the mirror.

It’s worse than you’d pictured. Your eyes are deep hollows with dark circles underneath them. If McLaggen looked tired, you look positively haggard. Your hair is filthy, and unkempt. You try to run your hand through it to find your fingers halted by the tangles.

Unable to bear to look anymore, you turn on the shower, throw off your wretched Azkaban robes bitterly into the wastebin and step in. The water is warm. It might be the best sensation you’ve ever felt. You look down at your feet and with grim satisfaction, see the water turn murky. You turn up the heat until your skin feels raw. It’s like it’s heating you to your very bones. You’re not sure how long you stay there. Soapy suds of every colour make their way down the drain as one by one, you use every one of McLaggen’s Uncle’s fancy soaps and shampoos. Using a small nail brush, you scrub your fingernails, your toenails and, still feeling unsatisfied with how the memories of Azkaban linger on your skin, you scrub the rest of your skin inch by inch. 

When you’re finally satisfied with your cleanliness, you find your clothes and toothbrush in your backpack and finish getting ready. Seeing yourself looking so tired and worn as you brush your teeth makes you want to cry. And when you think about crying you can’t stop the tears coming. You cry thinking about your parents. About the Holyhead Harpies. About Cho, Katie, Leanne and McLaggen hiding here. But most of all, you cry thinking about Eddie Carmichael. 

You wonder if he’s still waiting for you to return, guessing what’s happened to you or if he’ll get news of your escape and wonder why nobody came for him too. You think about him looking out his cell window at the cold North Sea. You hope the German Shepherd visits him.

The German Shepherd.

You clutch the sides of the sink feeling dizzy. How could you have forgotten?

“McLaggen!” You shout urgently and he bursts through the bathroom door in a panic. You grab the front of his jumper, pleading. “McLaggen, the Patronus!”

“Yeah? What?”

“You need to send it!” You say frantically. “You need to send it right now to Eddie, please. Please, he’s alone. He needs it.”

His eyes widen in shock at your hysteria.

“Cormac - now. Please.”

“Yeah, I will. I’ll do it right now.”

He returns to the bedroom and waves his wand. The German Shepherd Patronus bursts from the tip and sits obediently.

“Go to Carmichael,” he tells it and waves his wand again. The Pantronus turns and with a leap disappears through the wall.

You breathe a sigh of relief and sit down on the bed, arms trembling as the sudden surge of panicked adrenaline leaves your body. “That’s… it?” you ask, feeling your heart rate coming back down to normal.

“I mean, it’s harder than it looks. But yeah... that’s it.”

With no idea where to begin, you lie back and stare at the round ceiling. The mattress feels soft under your aching back.

“Did you say this was ‘our’ room?” you ask.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he says quickly. “There’s lots of space. I can sleep somewhere else.”

“I don’t want to sleep alone ever again.” 

McLaggen takes this as an invitation to join you on the bed. He finds your fingers resting on your stomach and laces his through them.

“Do you want to talk?”

“Not about Azkaban.” You turn your head to look at him. “Can you talk instead? Just… tell me what happened. From the start.”

“Well, I woke up and you were gone, obviously. I thought maybe you’d gone down for breakfast.”

You can picture it, McLaggen waking up and checking the guest room to find it hadn’t been slept in. 

“My dad - “

“Was it planned?” The question on your lips that you’ve been holding right to your chest.

“No. I promise. We left the gate open so he never had time to get you out of there. He guessed that it was Thicknesse. So he just went along with it. To protect us.”

“To protect you,” you correct. “So he sacrificed me.”

“Yes.” He doesn’t deny it. “And whatever you want to say about him, say it. I’ve said it to him all already. You have no idea - no idea - how furious I was.”

Several rude names dance on the tip of your tongue but don’t say anything, you just look up at the ceiling.

“He never imagined you’d be sent to Azkaban. The legislation said they were supposed to just confiscate your wand. But with everything that happened with Cerys, she convinced her dad to push for the maximum sentence. So really, it’s my fault.”

“Cormac - “

“No, listen. It is. If I’d just kept my ego in check, left the pub and took you home we would never have been in this mess.”

“Cerys knew I was Muggleborn by that point,”

“But she had no reason to do anything about it until I attacked Flint.”

Cerys and Flint. You wonder if they had a good laugh when they saw your face all over the Daily Prophet.

“Anyway, after you were arrested, I had a big bust-up with my Dad and came here to cool off. Stay with my Uncle. It was pretty bad. We’re still not speaking.”

“But we just saw him?”

“Only because the plan made it necessary.” He continues, “So when I arrived my Uncle was packing up for Brunei. Tried to get me to come with. But I knew I had to stay - think of a way to get you out.”

You feel your chest swell a little. Deep down you always knew he was thinking about you. Even in your worst moments - a tiny part of you always knew.

“Uncle Tiberius gave me the keys and left, leaving me to do a lot of thinking. Until one day I was lying right here.” He lies back and stares at the ceiling with you, absently tracing circles with his fingers over the back of your hand. “And a Patronus came. A big white swan.”

“Whose?”

“It was Cho. I recognised it from the D.A. but I didn’t realise Patronuses could travel like that. I checked the window because I thought she must be outside. But then it spoke.” 

“The Patronus spoke to you?”

“Yeah. And I recognised Cho’s voice. Said she, Katie and Leanne were safe and together and she asked if I knew about what happened to you. The problem was I had no idea how to reply. So I spent the next two weeks trying to figure out how the spell worked. But I was in pretty bad shape - not compared to your conditions, obviously!” He adds hastily, as if worried he’ll offend you.

“It’s okay. It’s not a competition. Though if it was I’d win,” you smile weakly.

“You would.” He squeezes your hand. “I was so sick with worry that I wasn’t able to cast a Patronus anymore. That is until one morning when I read in the Daily Prophet that three people had broken into the Ministry disguised as Ministry employees. And it got me thinking - what if I could use a Ministry employee to get into Azkaban? 

“So finally, after so long, I had a happy thought. Happy enough to let me spend the rest of the day trying to send a Patronus long-distance with a message.”

“You never sent me a message,” you say, trying unsuccessfully to keep a note of accusation out of your voice.

“I had no idea what it was like in Azkaban. I didn’t know if you were being watched. Or who would hear it if I gave you information. I sent the first Patronus and then I checked the paper the next day. I thought if they suspected you of communicating with anyone outside they’d punish you. It was risky but…”

“It was worth it,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand. “Cormac, it saved my sanity, I’m sure of it. And Carmichael’s too.”

He nods. “So the same night I sent my Patronus to you, I sent one to Cho too. And we arranged for them to come here. We came up with a plan to get you out. A reason to get you back into the courtroom. And it had to be big enough for my dad himself to be involved.”

“You being held hostage by Dumbledore’s Army?”

“Yeah. I went back to mine and told my dad the plan. Nobody knew at the Ministry that my dad and I had fallen out. So the day I was meant to start work I just never turned up. And my dad played the distraught father extremely well. First, his son almost had his magic stolen, now he’d been kidnapped by Dumbledore's Army.”

“Why Dumbledore’s Army?”

“We knew Umbridge would be so incensed that we were back that she’d understand my dad wanting to drag you from Azkaban himself.”

What an awful, awful woman. Desperate to believe someone would take pleasure in another's misery as much as she would.

“Marietta told us about the D.A. sign-up sheet.” 

“You’re in touch with Marietta?” Your heart leaps.

“Oh yeah. We’re desperate for her to come here but she knows she’s more useful on the inside.” 

The inside. Marietta was playing her part so well that she had to watch her boyfriend being thrown into Azkaban with a straight face.

“Umbridge kept the D.A. sign-up sheet after all that time. You can imagine it was a bit of a shock for Marietta when she saw it.”

You imagine Marietta clearly in a lurid, pink office. In your head it’s identical to Umbridge’s office at Hogwarts, with fluffy kittens on decorative plates, their big, blue eyes watching as she rifled through drawers and found the cursed piece of parchment that scarred her for life.

“So we framed you… again. Marietta wrote your name on the paper.”

You nod. You had guessed that already.

“And then, well, I think you know the rest. My dad agreed to the plan - it was his idea to have me wipe his memory so that when they interrogate him he won’t know anything. And since your wand is gone, he said you could have his.”

“He did?” Your opinion of his dad softens slightly. It was extremely risky to have your memory modified. And his wand…

McLaggen nods. “Well, he can order a new one from overseas - Ollivander went missing too over the summer. Did you see him in Azkaban?”

You shake your head.

“Well, in that case, nobody knows where he is. And that brings us to here.”

You both lie quietly for a while staring at the ceiling as the sea laps gently against the cliffside - it’s peaceful, nothing like the waves crashing mercilessly against the rocks of Azkaban. 

“What coast is that? Where even is ‘here’?”

“Do you want to see? There’s a good view from the top.”

The two of you get up and you follow McLaggen back out to the hallway. He points his wand and a step ladder drops down, leading to the top of the lighthouse.

“You first,” he says.

You raise your eyebrow.

“Not like that - it’s just steep.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You say and you take hold of the rungs.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” he says, watching your skirt disappear up and over onto the top floor.

When you get to your feet and see the view your breath hitches in your throat. You can’t remember the last time you saw this many colours. The sun has almost set completely by now. It gleams on the deep blue water, crimson light bouncing off the white cliffs. 

“Is this… are we in Dover?”

McLaggen nods. “Yep, and that’s the English Channel.”

You look to the west and wonder if Carmichael is watching the sunset too.

“Why didn’t you pull Eddie out? I mean, I’m grateful you helped me. And I’m not blaming you. But his name was on the D.A. sheet too.”

“I know,” sighs McLaggen. “But I’ll say the same thing to you that I said to Marietta - if my dad had requested Umbridge to call both of you out for questioning, she would have sent more Ministry people to escort him. It would’ve been too difficult to pull off with both of you wandless.”

“Well, at least we’ve got a nice place to hide out while we think of a plan.”

McLaggen stays quiet.

“I mean, we’re getting Carmichael out too, right?”

He sighs heavily. “It was really the kind of plan that only works once.”

“Cormac, we need to do something.”

“I want to. But I’m all out of ideas. One breakout was nearly impossible but two? I don’t think it can be done.”

You chew your lip. If there was an obvious way to break someone out of Azkaban, you probably would have thought of it already.

McLaggen stands behind you as you look out to the horizon and slips his arms around your waist from behind. The way his warm body feels enveloped around you soothes you, making you feel safer than any protective enchantment.

He rests his chin on top of your head. “If you look over there -“ he points “- you can sometimes see France when it’s bright and clear.”

“It makes you forget how close it is, really. I’ve only ever seen it in old World War Two photos, y’know? All the little ships of Dunkirk going over.”

“The what?”

“You’ve never heard of Dunkirk?” You tilt your head up to look at him. “Oh, I’m not doing the story justice but basically, during the war, there were hundreds of thousands of British soldiers trapped on the beach at Dunkirk just… there.”

You point out to the East.

“The German Army was approaching from land, keeping them on the beach. And the water was too shallow for British destroyers to get near enough to rescue them. Big warships - do you know what they are?”

“A warship? Yeah, it’s pretty self-explanatory,” he grins.

“Right, sorry, anyway, all those soldiers were just stuck. So the Muggle Ministry put out a call for help to anyone who had a boat that could be used in shallow water. Loads of civilians turned up in canal boats, fishing boats, sailing boats - anyone and everyone who had a boat. Hundreds and hundreds of them went from England to France to start ferrying the soldiers back. Getting them all to safety.”

As you stand looking across the channel, you can picture all the little boats going out. The relief the soldiers must have felt when they saw help at last. The same overwhelming relief you felt when you saw you were standing in McLaggen’s parent’s house.

“That was brave of them.”

“Yeah.” You wipe your eye with the sleeve of your jumper. “Sorry, I keep welling up. I think I’m tired.”

“It’s a nice story. And you don’t need to keep apologising.”

McLaggen holds you tight against him while you watch the sun finally disappear into the sea. He kisses the top of your head. Your stomach grumbles.

“I’ve just realised I’m starving.”

“Do you want me to bring you some toast?”

Toast. It’s been so long since you thought about real food that you almost forgot about your favourite thing to eat. But he didn’t.

“I made sure we had plenty of bread for you coming back-”

The tiny gesture is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

You turn and stop his train of thought with a kiss. You can’t help yourself. You link your arms around his neck and stand on your tiptoes to suck his bottom lip. He pulls you close by your hips, pressing his warm body into yours like a giant comfort blanket. When Cormac’s tongue enters your mouth, he does so tentatively, gently, as if worried he might be overstepping.

He isn’t.

His hands wander down the curve of your back and with more urgency than either of you had expected, you push him backwards to the cushioned window seat so you can straddle him.

Everything below your waist throbs. Burning, searing friction lights up your nerve endings as you sit on his lap. It’s the best feeling you’ve felt on your skin in two months. 

You pause, pressing your forehead against his, lips barely touching and just breathing each others’ air. A sigh escapes your lips when feel his cock twitch under his jeans, pressing against your soaking-wet underwear.

He breathes deeply. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

“I thought that was just your wand in your pocket.”

He lets out an amused exhale and looks down between your bodies. “Sorry. You’ve barely been here two minutes. I shouldn’t -”

“You should.”

“Do you feel okay?” His eyes find yours again, full of concern.

“No,” you say truthfully. “But it doesn’t mean that I don’t want you to fuck me.” Your hands find his belt buckle and he takes a deep, steadying breath. “Didn’t you miss me?” You tease softly.

He cups your face and your working hands pause when you look at him. “I missed you, alright. But you were just crying thinking about boats.”

“I’m just - I’m scared something will happen and we won’t get to do this again.”

“We will. You’re safe here.” He brushes a strand of wet hair from your face. “We’re safe here.”

And you do feel safe here. With him. You kiss his neck, inhaling his heady scent that reminds you so vividly of that first Potions lesson with him. When you realised that you didn’t hate Cormac McLaggen. Not even a little bit.

Your hips push against his, chasing the friction of his cock against your clit. His hands grip the sides of your thighs, digging into your flesh and pulling you tight against him.

It feels like half of you has been missing. You never thought you’d feel his touch like this again. 

There wasn’t a moment in Azkaban where you ever thought about sex. It was like the whole concept of sexuality disappeared into the void. In the dark, damp cell there were no sneaky thoughts of touching yourself or pleasant dreams of a romantic reunion with Cormac. Just emptiness. All-consuming, never-ending emptiness. At your lowest moments part of you thought you’d never deserve to feel like this again.

His grip loosens on you and you realise you’ve stopped moving your hips. It’s only when his lips meet the wet corner of your eye that you even register you’re crying.

“Hey… I think you need sleep. And food,” he murmurs in your ear.

You nod, pulling back to wipe your eyes again. His eyebrows raise a bit as he studies your tired face. 

“Why don’t you go to bed and I’ll bring you something?”

It’s tempting. You’re, frankly, exhausted. But by McLaggen’s account, they’ve all spent the past few weeks holed up here cooking up a plan to get you out of Azkaban. The least you can do is show your face.

“It’s okay. I’ll come down with you. See the rest of them.”

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

Katie, Leanne and Cho lift their heads up when they hear two sets of footsteps coming downstairs.

“Hi,” you say, slightly awkwardly after your last entrance but the way Cho looks at you makes you feel less nervous. She pats the chair beside her. Your best friend doesn’t need to ask how you’re doing. She just knows.

“Feeling better?” asks Katie with a sympathetic smile and you nod, not sure how to verbalise the mix up of emotions inside your head.

You sit beside Cho at the kitchen table and lean your head on her shoulder while McLaggen busies himself, making you toast. 

“Is it just the four of you? Have you heard news from anywhere else?”

“Just us. We’ve had bits of news here and there. Oliver Wood and a couple of others are hiding out in Puddlemere,” says Katie. “The whole league’s been called off.”

“It has?” You brighten up a bit at this. For weeks you had been imagining Cerys leading the Holyhead Harpies to a gloating victory.

“Yeah - there were riots in the crowds when players started disappearing. Gone into hiding or worse.”

“What about any Ravenclaws?” You lift your head and ask Cho. “Any sign of them?”

“Last I heard Rodger Davies was still living in France, playing Quidditch for Lyon. Probably best he keeps it that way.”

“And Hufflepuff? What about Smith?” you ask Leanne.

You don’t fail to notice how McLaggen pauses buttering your toast briefly at the mention of Zacharias Smith so he can listen in.

“Nope, we’ve heard nothing,” says Leanne and he resumes. “Not even on Potterwatch.”

“Potterwatch?”

“Lee Jordan does this show on the Wizarding Wireless Network. It’s all underground, top secret so it’s pretty unpredictable trying to find out when it’s on but we still check the radio every night.”

“What about Potter, Weasley and Granger?”

“Well,” says McLaggen, pulling up a chair on your other side and placing the plate of toast in front of you. “We think they were responsible for the Ministry break-in but the Ministry don’t want to admit it.”

Your stomach growls again and you pick up the buttery toast gratefully. It smells like heaven. And it’s hot - the first hot food you’ve had in a long time.

“So what else have you been up to?” you ask and take a bite out of the corner.

“Aside from getting you out of Azkaban?” asks McLaggen with a wry smile. You squeeze his leg with your free hand apologetically. “Well, we stay inside the perimeter of the Fidelius Charm as much as we can. Leanne’s popped out once to the local muggle shop to get food but we’re careful not to use magic or draw attention to ourselves.”

“Cormac volunteered to go but was so blown away by paper money we thought it best that I went instead,” explains Leanne.

“It doesn’t make any sense. What’s the difference between that and a piece of parchment? And the shape of the coins? Muggle money is just plain weird.”

Muggles.

“Oh my god, my parents…” You almost drop your toast.

“It’s alright, they know you’re safe,” says Cho. “We sent them an owl.”

“An owl? Whose?”

“Yours. They sent you a letter when I was still at mine and we’ve been writing back and forth. They know the basics - that you were wrongfully arrested and we were trying to get you out. I didn’t want to frighten them with the details,” says McLaggen.

You nod. “Thank you.”

There’ll be plenty of time to tell them later. When all of this is over. 

If it’s ever over.

You look around the vast, circular kitchen, wondering how long you’ll have to stay here. If there will ever be an end to this regime. And then your eyes find something you thought you’d never see again, in a pile by the back door.

“Is that my broom?” Your heart sings. More than losing your wand, you worried if you’d ever see your Cleansweep Eleven again.

“Yeah, I brought them with our stuff. We can’t fly too high or outside the boundary but I thought you might want it here.”

You recognise the singed tail of McLaggen’s Nimbus 2001 and notice Cho’s too. The other two must be Katie and Leanne’s. Suddenly you feel excitement bubbling in your stomach as an idea, a very stupid, reckless idea forms in your mind.

“Do you remember the mass breakout from Azkaban last year?” You clear your throat, trying to steady your voice. “How did You-Know-Who get all those Death Eaters out?”

“No idea,” says McLaggen. “And trust me, we’ve thought about it a lot. Azkaban is impossible to find. It’s unplottable.”

“Like here?”

“Not exactly. There are protective charms of some kind but there can’t be a Secret Keeper - too many people know about it. Too many employees going in and out.”

“Would it still be unplottable if you’d been inside it?”

They look at each other uncertainly.

“I’m not sure…” says Cho, thoughtfully. “I mean, Leanne, you were able to find your way back here after you left the boundary, right?”

“Yeah, it sprung right up,” says Leanne.

You feel your hands trembling so you put down your toast. “You three all went to Muggle primary schools, right?” 

Leanne, Katie and Cho look at each other confused. They nod.

“What do you know about Dunkirk?”

Chapter 14: Preparations

[the-overanalyzer]

kicking your door down! hello! was excited that it is finally the weekend and i had time to read through your menu of WIP options and choose my fighter only to get as far as the third one and know DEEP IN MY HEART that it was meant for ME to ask about. tell me about The Best Laid Plans of Squids and Men, fiend!

He’d never been down here before, but it was a pretty standard, utility-oriented basement. Like he figured, the door to the power room was off to one side. The other, which he was pretty sure was an underwater access for Aqualad or any other seafaring heroes, had a big sign taped across the door with “KEEP OUT” in big block letters, with doodles of a skull, a biohazard symbol, and an...eggplant?.  Jason weighed his options. On the one hand, examining and subverting the tower’s electrical system would be a big help to him later. On the other hand, someone potentially had something dangerous haphazardly stored down here. Eventually, his detective’s instincts won out. “Potentially dangerous and haphazard” it was. Forcing the lock, he drew a gun and nudged the door open with his foot. The room beyond was dark, but the light from the hall reflected off the pool ahead—he’d been right about the underwater bit after all. The place smelled like salt and mildew and…rosemary? Weird.

This is the first iteration of "Jason gets tentacled", as you probably could have guessed. Jason does recon for his little escapade in Teen Titans #29, only to find out he's not the tower's only guest.

I stopped working on this one for a long time because I somehow managed to make tentacle porn boring, which I guess counts as some kind of minor achievement. I never stopped thinking about it, though, and it might actually see the light of day sometime soon. (maybe after the second idea, which I like a lot more and also recently got more inspiration for).

[taamlok]

The High Priestess: Which does Rook obey more: their head or their heart?

The Hierophant: Is Rook religious? How do they feel about the religious organizations that impact their life the most?

The Hermit: When Rook is alone with their thoughts, what do they think about? Is solitude a blessing or a curse for them?

thank you for the ask! questions from here

The High Priestess: Which does Rook obey more: their head or their heart?

Muireann definitely leans toward following her heart. It's not that she doesn't think things through (she has a contingency plan for every possible situation). She tends to act based on gut instinct in the moment, but her gut instinct is informed by a lot of forethought. For example, during the final fight she has a backup plan for every backup plan, but ultimately tells everyone that if it comes down to a choice between finishing their job and saving themselves they should get the hell out of there and they'll figure something else out.

The Hierophant: Is Rook religious? How do they feel about the religious organizations that impact their life the most?

Muireann is not religious at all and barely knows anything about any of the major faiths in Thedas. She was a slave in her early childhood so no one was really taking the time to teach her about the Maker, and when she was adopted her dad didn't care about any of that stuff either so it just never really came up. She was raised largely on his merchant ship and in Dairsmuid (which is super multi-cultural), so religion was never a big part of her communities. That being said she and her dad both live and breathe seafarer superstition, and if you step on her ship left foot first she'll yell at you.

The Hermit: When Rook is alone with their thoughts, what do they think about? Is solitude a blessing or a curse for them?

Muireann is an overthinker, so when she's alone with her thoughts she's just running scenarios in her head and trying to think her way out of them. She needs a lot of quiet alone time, especially after a long day of being overstimulated, but needs to be doing something with her hands or else she starts spiraling. She reads a lot, and likes to paint Davrin's figurines for him (he doesn't need them painted but he lets her do it anyway). One thing she loves about Taash is that it's very easy to just sit quietly with them, or be doing their own things in the same space without feeling the need to fill the silence or engage with each other. Autistic love etc.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Rituals/Tradition

With art for this from @the-red-butterfly 💖💖💖 (Please show her some love!!!)

In the tradition of Cursed Cards, have some more photograph shenanigans...

Characters: Maedhros x Fingon (yes, still half-cousins!)

Words: 2 240

Warnings: pure fluff, no warnings

“Finno, are you coming?”

Fingon was about to let his phone drop to the low coffee table in his parents’ living room when the soft chime of a text message caught his attention.

Have fun skiing with your family! &lt;3

Rereading the message while sweating profusely in the heavily padded costume, Fingon gripped the device a little harder when a second chime announced an addition to Russo’s parting communication.

The yearly family trip to the mountains was a well-established and cherished tradition, but Fingon would have gladly skipped it if his beloved had been amenable to staying home with him instead.

Alas, his lover—just as fond and faithful where family traditions were concerned—spent the winter holidays first on a boating trip, even though none of his six brothers was a particularly good seafarer, and then holed up in a remote cabin in a picturesque forest.

“You are very welcome to come to the cabin later in the week, if Tyelko’s shanties are not to your liking,” Russo had joked, and—afraid of intruding—Fingon had smiled warmly and declined.

A part of him regretted not having jumped at the opportunity from that very moment on, and—breaking with tradition little by little—he had purposefully dawdled when leaving for his own family holiday so he could take his own car to the ski resort.

He wondered whether his siblings had missed him on their rowdy, noisy, exasperating drive; Fingon truly felt sorry for not spending more time with them and for letting his mind drift away whenever he actually was by their side.

“Are you coming or not? No phone!” Turgon repeated, his stern, noble brow creased with impatience and annoyance.

“I don’t know how Elenwë—or anyone else, for that matter—bears your endless nagging,” Fingon grumbled, sensing that his whole plans were about to be derailed as his thumb slid across the screen towards the little envelope, decorated by that alluring red dot. “I won’t be a minute.”

He should go, he knew it, but he could not bear to leave a message from his lover unopened. What if he needed help? What if it was an emergency?

Clicking on it, he sealed his fate. A quiet gasp escaped him, and his cheeks darkened with delight.

“You’re not coming, are you?” Turgon snapped bitingly. Following his oldest brother’s darting eyes—the door to the bedrooms, the sprawling front window, back to the door—he instinctively divined his erratic thoughts. “I’ll pack your gear; get the necessities and go. I’ll tell the others when we meet at the foot of the mountain.”

Shooting a quick glance full of gratitude at his stolid, taciturn younger brother, Fingon all but jumped out of his elaborate suit and stumbled towards the door in a flimsy sweatshirt and his rattiest, thinnest sweatpants.

“Keys,” Turgon groaned, snatched them from the tangled mess in the beautiful ceramic bowl by the door, and tossed them over effortlessly. “Greet Maedhros from me.”

Stalking away with enviable dignity, he refused to add any other parting words.

“But look at the picture!” Fingon whispered and held his phone aloft, waving it slightly at Turgon’s retreating back. “Eh, your loss.”

The caption said something about Tyelko having spiked the punch, but that was of little importance to Fingon—he was too entranced by the photograph itself, showing his sweet redhead in an uncharacteristically deep blue sweater.

As he hurried towards his car, almost slipping thrice because he couldn’t pry his gaze off the wavering screen in his numb hand, Fingon grinned like a lunatic to mirror the wide, happy smile his sweetheart was sporting.

He loved all of his boyfriend’s smiles—the tiny quirks making the corners of his mouth dance as much as the polite, subdued curve his fine lips assumed at times—but the open-mouthed grin knocked the very breath out of his lungs with amazement so rare and marvellous did it seem to him.

Russo, he thought fondly, didn’t stomach liquor well, especially not if it was in a hot beverage, and the tell-tale flush as well as the brightness of his eyes told him all he needed to know.

Suddenly, the ever-gnawing yearning in the pit of his stomach became positively unbearable as he thought of the strong, seemingly endless arms of his partner, wrapped a little too tightly around his waist.

He wanted this; he longed to be there to run his fingers along the intricate pattern of exquisite knitwear in his own colours and watch Russo flush under the onslaught of messy, cinnamon-flavoured kisses and the soothing effect of mulled wine.

“Moryo made the sweater for me; isn’t it lovely?”

Fingon started the car, weighing the pros and cons of texting while driving and stopping almost instantly again.

“It’s beautiful. You’re gorgeous,” he typed quickly.

“I might be a little tipsy. I miss you. The twins said that I am to be the tree this year—father didn’t find one he liked. Everyone agrees that I am tall enough. Hence the decorations. Do you like them?”

Swiping his thumb blindly across the screen, Fingon pulled up the picture again.

He wasn’t sure whether it was acceptable to call while Maedhros was with his family, but he felt as if he would die in the white hell of swirling snow if he didn’t hear that warm, serious voice telling him that everything was all right.

His father, of course, had raised him better than this, but Fingon nevertheless fiddled with his phone until he heard the clangourous ringing sound cut through the unnerving static of the engine purring in the background.

“Hey,” Maedhros said. “Are you not on your way down a slope right now? Are you being safe? Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

“Slow down, Red,” Fingon laughed, the weight on his chest dissolving into a puff of warm air, and turned the heating on. “I am indeed not skiing. Does your invitation still stand?”

A pensive hum resounded, mellow and satisfied, and then a sharp inhalation.

“Where are you, Fin?”

“I am in my car. Does your invitation stand, Russo?”

“Yes,” the other laughed. “I would warn you not to come—my brothers are in high spirits which is always a dangerous thing—but the idea of having you here is too alluring…”

“Tell me about your gifts,” Fingon pleaded softly as he raced out of the resort at twice the recommended speed. “I love the sweater. Is that a new prosthesis I’ve glimpsed?”

Gurgling with laughter, his swain confirmed. “Yeah, Curvo made it. It’s very good, very comfortable.”

“Can’t wait to feel it on my—wait, I am not on speakerphone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Maedhros exclaimed indignantly—his voice was so powerful and loud that he had single-handedly eliminated any need for such an accommodation anyway, but just hearing him sound so light-hearted was worth any and every indignity to Fingon.

“Maglor gave me a mug saying ‘Tall Ass Bitch’, which is funny because I got him a tiny blanket that said ‘Short King’. Isn’t that hilarious? He also made it himself—Mother was ecstatic.”

It was, as a matter of fact, hysterical, and Fingon had to focus hard not to drive off the road because he was shaking with laughter. “It sounds as if you’re having a marvellous time,” he wheezed. “I am glad. Turno is mad at me—I got your pic and just took off. Haven’t even said goodbye to the rest of the family.”

“You are disgusting,” Caranthir hollered from somewhere in the background. “I am moving my stuff into the movie room—no way I’ll sleep in the same room as you two.”

“Awww Moryo, don’t be like that,” Maedhros harrumphed. “Have another glass of glogg!”

“When I see what it’s done to you, no thank you,” came the reprobative answer, and then, there was silence once more.

“Please stay as you are,” Fingon beseeched his lover. “I want to be the one to pluck those pretty glass ornaments from your silken hair. Also, my fingers are itching to peel you out of this very nice sweater—not your usual colour palette, though, is it?”

“Moryo can say what he wants,” Maedhros replied smugly, “but he did choose your colours for my sweater, so he can’t object all that much, can he? He gets better every year, you must feel that thing—you couldn’t buy that kind of quality in just any regular shop.” The warm pride ringing in every word warmed Fingon’s heart as he pushed relentlessly through the rocky, snow-covered panorama of his holiday destination to reach the milder climates of the region surrounding the cute cabin his love’s family rented every year.

“Will he rat us out?” he then asked, slightly nervous. He liked Nerdanel, and he had taken his fair share of silly pictures of himself and his siblings to satisfy her addiction to cute but embarrassing photographs, but he did not want to crash her cosy getaway with her beloved children.

“OH,” Maedhros giggled. “They all know already—I might have pumped my fist and danced across the living room, almost trampling one of the twins who was looking for something under the couch, no matter…so yeah, my parents know that you’re coming. It’s all good. Better than good. You know what? I am going to put aside a bit of the punch for us—for later.”

The quality of his timbre had taken on a sultry, seductive note now, and Fingon shivered despite the hot air blasting through his car. Why were they so far apart?

“You do that, my love,” he said when he realised that he had not given any answer to that suggestion, so enthralled was he by the idea of his Russo—warm, pliable, and utterly contented—sprawling on a narrow bed for which he was much too tall. “I’d follow you anywhere, you know that, right? Over the endless ice and across the raging ocean—I’ll always come for you!”

“I hope so,” came the soft, mumbled reply. “And I’ll always be waiting, ever scanning the horizon feverishly for the deliverance of your friendship and love. Are you still very far?”

“Yes,” Fingon muttered, frustrated with how long and tedious his road would be, but just as determined to make it into those desperately wished-for arms as fast as possible. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Bad weather conditions and adverse events delayed Fingon unduly but—just as the night grew pitch dark in the small, picturesque valley—he saw the majestic hill ahead. Nestled against its elegant slope stood a cottage—looking tiny from that distance—from which the brightly lit windows twinkled like golden stars.

“Soon, my darling,” Fingon hummed; he had not gotten an answer in at least twenty minutes, but the sound of his lover’s deep, regular breathing was nevertheless soothing and encouraging.

“Good evening, you must be tired. He…fell asleep. Do you want to go wake him, and I’ll make you a spot of dinner?” Nerdanel whispered as she opened the door, tutted at the glaring lack of sensible winterwear, and then pulled Fingon into a forceful, welcoming hug.

Nodding, Fingon kicked off his snow boots, and padded over to the couch on thick, woollen socks; he didn’t even mind the fact that several of Maedhros’s brothers were standing around, sniggering softly, as he bent over that curled-up form and breathed a tender kiss onto the chiselled jaw of his personal miracle.

“Good evening, sleepyhead,” he whispered, rubbing slow circles into the long, lean back of the peaceful sleeper. “Happy holidays, my love.”

When Maedhros blinked, dazed and confused, Fingon broke into a smile so deep and earnest, it made his eyes crinkle and his lips stretch taut over his flashing, slightly irregular teeth. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Finno, I am so sorry. You—You are already here? I dreamed of you; it was such a good dream,” Maedhros mumbled, rubbing his eyes and extending his hand to his mug automatically to chase the stale, sticky taste in his mouth.

“Your mother is making dinner,” Fingon explained as he shuffled onto the couch beside the jumble of shapely limbs and slid his hand into Maedhros’s warm palm.

“I am so happy that you’re here,” the still rather dopey ginger sighed, leaning his head—Christmas tree decoration and knots—against Fingon’s strong, muscular shoulder. “Now, it is perfect.”

“I am afraid,” Fingon confessed in a conspiratorial whisper, “that I have forgotten your gift in my suitcase. You’ll get it after the holidays! I swear!”

“Hmmm, you’re all I need.” Humming happily, Maedhros slung his arms around Fingon’s waist and so they sat, lulled by the whispered conversations of the ever-present gaggle of brothers and seduced into hunger by the aromatic fumes of a late-night dinner about to be served.

“Sweetling?” Fingon prompted suddenly as his phone vibrated in his pocket. “Could you please send my mother the picture of you? I am sure she’ll understand why I fled so haphazardly once she sees it.”

“I highly doubt that,” Maedhros chortled, “but I will, of course, try. We should spend a day or two with them before we go back home, how about that? I shall suffer the mockery of your siblings with equanimity.” “My brave, slightly drunk, very beautiful, utterly bewitching hero,” Fingon laughed, wrapped his arm around Maedhros’s slender shoulder, and promptly dozed off himself.

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November (by @cilil)

[unsoundedcomic]

How frequent is Pymaric use among Sharteshanian individuals, especially rogues? Compared to the other two players in the world it seems they much prefer steel of spellery, but a good pymaric is something even a layman can use right?

Yeah, anyone can use a pymaric if they know the trigger. Good call that pymary in general isn't as much a thing in Sharteshane. Historically they were among the latest adopters of it. They're a seafaring people, and since pymary gets tricky or impossible over deep water, there was a lot of mistrust and dismissal of it for a long time - even a lingering superstition that it's plain evil and the Twin gods disapprove of it. That view's seen as old-fashioned but even Sette has an instinctive dislike of spellery and spellers she got from her da and gran. Still, if she finds an Aspect grenade, she's gonna throw it, and if her attack zombie can wiggle his fingers and set something on fire, she's gonna suggest he go ahead :3

[vacantgodling]

The Chronicles of Lathsbury -> CRASH COURSE

Part 2: The Mythology and Lore of Terrae

As of writing version 2.0 of the TCOL crash course there are 7 major deities in Terrae and an ever growing list of minor deities. Instead of being speculation, deities are a proven concept in Terrae and most people are religious. Superstitions aren’t terribly common, though it varies from region to region. Those who reside in Diisai have a lot of superstitions, for instance, especially when you venture further into the countryside.

The concept of “heaven” exists… somewhat. Terraneans believe that when they die (and are properly buried) all souls, regardless of their deeds in life, go to be one with their host of deities in Cerullius. However, if you are not given a proper burial, your spirit will continue to wander Terrae until either your body or remains are buried, or unless The Lady of the Mists comes to guide you home.

Proper etiquette for referring to any deity by their name in writing is to write it in ALL CAPITALS, which is why you see me do it whenever I talk about any of the deities in passing. However, when speaking about deities in casual conversation it’s considered more polite to refer to them by an epithet (which I am still workshopping their many, many epithets so stay tuned for that eventually). When deities speak to each other (ie: when I write lore scenes about deities) I will not capitalize their names as they are not above or below each other (even minor deities to major deities). Guardians also get a pass in this regard though they are different than deities proper.

Major deities and their general jurisdictions are as follows:

IIARAN — goddess of the universe & creation ; the sky, stars, constellations and celestial bodies ; wonder & awe ; song, melody, and dance ; birth, children, life

IISIDIA — goddess of the universe & destruction ; rhythm, harmony & musical instruments ; The Labyrinth and magic ; death & aging ; black holes, supernovas, comets, asteroids ; forces beyond understanding ; loyalty

MIZDARR — god of nature, plants, forests ; docile animals and monsters ; fun, play and laughter ; hunting, survival, brutality ; duality & chaos

MUINENS — goddess of justice, law and order ; protection from strife/hardship ; peace, victory, integrity, truth ; fate, destiny, prophecies, heroes ; land exploration and travel & cities

MIRANKA — god of fertility, mating & sexual intercourse ; family, friends, comradery & relationships ; desire & romance ; marriage ; unconditional love ; beauty ; ambition

YUTARA — deity of healing, hygiene & medicine ; immunity & poison ; studiousness, language & communication ; androgyny & gender expression ; perseverance

YLENE — goddess of battle, courage & bravery ; natural instincts, recklessness, desperation ; Guilds ; teamwork & collaboration ; strife & loss ; natural disasters ; strength & fortitude

Minor deities are usually venerated mortals by the cast of deities as they are instrumental in creating certain aspects of Terrae that did not exist before them. They are as follows:

MARTH is the founder of alchemy; a trans masc (as we know it) who cast aside his veil and family’s wishes for a daughter to provide heirs to pursue science. He is the the god the city of Marthveil is named after, the creator of alchemy and it’s corresponding magic: muram, the brachum calces alchemists use, as well as blacksmithing, fire, metals and minerals.

KOST is the god of boats, seafaring, bodies of water, fish, and travel. The city of Kost is named for him, and was the site of the creation of the first rudimentary sailboat.

KIBARUM is the god of alcohol, the harvest, and relaxation. He is worshiped particularly heavily in Diisai, where he is rumored to have origins from.

EFFE is the goddess of winds, gales, gusts, and has jurisdiction over the weather and was venerated from the former prisoner of Eros Twilightsorrow Idanly, whose name and role in the discovery and application of the magic tenom have all been but scrubbed from history books. Very few know this goddess’s origins.

The Lady of the Mists (who is only referred to by her singular epithet) was originally a Aegean princess named Princess Pinella Dia and was one of the elder siblings of the first king of The Kingdom of Lathsbury, Mitică the Nomad or King Mitică Dia. She died in a land bridge collapse on their flight to what would become The City of Sorrows (or Ubwyn) and was venerated by the deity YUTARA to help guide souls who weren’t properly buried to Cerullius.

The Demon King is the only “deity” on this list with an asterisk, as it is a changing position among the beasts of The Labyrinth. For simplicity’s sake; The Demon King is the ruler of monsters, and is the most powerful beast (as beasts and monsters are different—again, to simplify the difference is that beasts can use magic while monsters cannot) in The Labyrinth. The reigning Demon King can be killed or overpowered by Terraneans or other beasts, who will then consume their flesh to gain even more power. The current reigning Demon King and main antagonist of the main storyline (part 1 anyway) is Lord Evondra—who has been asleep but growing more powerful over the past 300 years.

Palanthia is more of a concept than a full fledged deity; but the word palanthia in old Aegean means “hope” and it is the spirit of hope and miracles. It is not a deity with a humanoid form, but takes the form of the goddess MUINENS’s giant shield, which all protector’s shields are modeled after.

QHOZION is the alter of IISIDA, meaning that he is a separated part of the goddess but they are still virtually the same being. he is the overseer of the long forgotten fallen world of Lapsundi. no deity but IISIDA and MIZDARR know he exists but his and Lapsundi’s existence are the subject of the second book in the series. he is a god of ruin and ruins, reincarnation, and negative emotions, sacrifice, and amnesia.

BRULENE is the trans fem (as we know it) sister of YLENE, cut from the goddess’s own breast to create her. she is the goddess of sculpting and statues, monuments, pottery and kilns, tactical strategy, weaving and looms, and gift giving.

Guardians are venerated Terraneans who die in an cause observed and deemed necessary by the cast of deities, and they are given immortality, wings, a weapon forged of the spirit of one they hold dear (who usually dies with or around the same time as them) and the ability to more directly interact with Terraneans than the gods — who cannot and can only communicate with Terraneans under very certain circumstances or through oracles. There is only ONE Guardian allowed per era, and their veneration usually marks the end of an era in Terranean history as it transitions into the next one.

Currently, there are 3 Guardians, as there are 3 major eras:

Lath, Guardian of Valor his weapon is forged from the spirit of his best friend, Ensio

Immordia, Guardian of Exploration her weapon is forged from the spirit of her youngest son Gawain

Arian Bloom, Guardian of Love has not received his weapon yet

Currently Terrae is in its 4th era, which is currently nameless as there has been no Guardian venerated yet.

Finally, oracles are how the deities communicate with mortals and are more commonly found among the people of Terrae. Oracles can be chosen in three ways:

Divine Visions that are verified by others who serve the same deity

Through an Oracle’s Blessing which is something most* Terraneans receive when they are born. It’s not always a prophecy (though they can be) but it usually is some sort of vision for how their life will go generally speaking—think of it as astrology.

Through an Oracle’s Feat, which is the process that one can choose to go through if you wish to be recognized by a deity to become a direct mouthpiece for them.

The deity with the most oracles on Terrae is MUINENS and they are known by the moniker OOM (which stands for Oracle of MUINENS). They most commonly deliver oracles blessings and there are many throughout all of Terrae. They can only be chosen through divine visions or through an oracle’s blessing.

The second most common oracles are those who serve the MIRANKA and act as both wedding officiants, bond forgers, and relationship counselors. They are known as OOMI (standing for Oracle of MIRANKA). They are only chosen through Oracle’s Feats, which is essentially like if you were to go for your doctorate in psychology… but more magical and with more perks!

The third most common oracles are only found in Eros, and those are of the war and strife goddess YLENE. They are called Champions of Honor (or COHs) because they are chosen through Oracle’s Feats but specifically through a battle to the death. There is only one COH at a time and they last until their death or until a challenger kills them.

Finally, the only other deity in Terrae that has oracles is IISIDIA, though they are few and far between. They do not tend to have highly respected or visible places of practice, and how to become one is a mystery. Not many are usually seen; they are rumored to roam the wilds studying Deeper Magic, creation and chaos.

[vigilskeep]

Is there a concentrated lore post for Parsifal?

THIS is the parsifal lore post. there is... very little because he is a new baby oc just five minutes old

son of elven servants to a seafaring rivaini merchant, he remembers nothing of his life before the circle but the sound and smell of the sea and the distant memory of deep smile lines in a face much like his own

his defining trait is kindness. earnestly compassionate, always reaching out to others, always his first instinct is to offer a helping hand. he can be so selfless it's almost grating, especially as he's one of the more talented mages which inspires envy, but generally he's very well-liked. it's hard not to like him. ten thousand watt smile. he has many friends, and he's friendly to the point of stubborn determination, dragging jowan into being his bestie when he was one of the quieter kids who'd faded into the corners

not much sense of personal space bc he’s used to everything being shared space and knowing everyone well, not with the intensity of keir’s physical affection because i don’t think circle mages do all that out in the open, but definitely a casual-arm-around-ur-shoulders and steals-ur-food-off-ur-plate and grabs-ur-hand-to-hold without really thinking abt it type of guy

accidentally calls irving dad five times a day

initially irving thought his skill with people might make him a good senior or even first enchanter, which is why he took a particular interest in mentoring him. but now he thinks—fondly, but with serious worry—that parsifal's too soft-hearted to make it in a role like that, to make the kind of sacrifices that irving has. that's why he starts considering offering him to the grey wardens... on the assumption that there would be many more wardens and parsifal would be definitively in the back

a Nerd. always has a book under his arm, is always scribbling in his grimoire on the road. he has a knack for the school of spirit, which some have hazarded a guess might be inherited from rivaini seer ancestors, but he takes a particular joy in the controlled finesse and intensive study of the creation school. his own plan was to go into spirit healing after his harrowing if he could get senior enchanter wynne's approval. he wanted to do something unambiguously good with his magic and very much never wanted to be in any kind of combat at all :(

i used my clearance for one (1) fantasy character with stereotypical purple eyes on him because with black sclera i couldn't get a natural colour to look good. purple is his defining colour in my head, i like to imagine his magic that colour, and he wears it too. grey warden blue with a thread of red mixed in for... reasons. and silver jewellery!! that's important. he is intended first and foremost to be the moon-coded guy in a sun and moon pairing

a home of sexual 🏳️‍🌈 you can tell because he’s always sitting on random surfaces

quite young (18-20 i'd say?) and it shows; he's inexperienced and nervous, he hasn't got a clear agenda of his own, he's never been in a formal leadership position before. zero muscle, a little tall for an elf, and that's new on him after a final late growth spurt, a bit more skinny limb that he's learned what to do with

a Hopeless Romantic and lover of beauty

terrified of blood magic... For Now

[drakeanddice]

Thirty minutes til Burning Wheel, and I have no idea what we're doing tonight.

But this time it's on purpose. We're building the campaign and setting at the table, then burning characters together. Players make their characters based on the setting, and GM builds the campaign to suit the characters. The idea is to explicitly challenge the characters' Beliefs and Instincts.

It's a weird cart/horse problem. Because you can't prep a situation without knowing the characters, but you can't build a character without knowing something about the world.

So we're building the world together first.

Hopefully it all starts to spool out from there, because I've been thinking about it all week and all I've got are some scrawled notes:

Factions (yes, again.)

Intrigue (yes, always)

Vampires?

Seafaring

We'll see where it goes from there.

[csial]

THE HYDRO ARCHON OF LIYUE.

Victory was supposed to taste sweet, and yet there is a bitterness that sits in Osial's throat, tightening his chest, as he cradles the gnosis on his palm. The ground quakes, rumblings of something confined deep in abyssal depths, held at bay until their business can be finished. A contract of ancient creatures determined to deny death now lies in tatters before the final victor, the blood stained pages his reminder of his betrayal.

This is the verse where Osial wins, but the victory is not as sweet as he thought it might be. It begins at Havria's death, when the loss of the one he calls friend churns the seas and coerces this ancient god to give into his worst instincts. What follows is a more aggressive front, a cruel offence to ensure he is not swallowed into Morax's victories. And it ends with the summoning of those left, who are too weak to face Morax alone, putting a proposal before them. Why should we give way to the land when the sea will always consume it in the end? Let us unite and drown the earth he stands upon, swallow his cities and nations in our tides, ensure that the rage of the sea is known?

And enough agree to form an alliance to defeat Morax, waiting for the opportune moment. Though Osial knows not one of them will survive, for they are his fodder to weary his foe until he can seal him away.

On a battlefield of their blood and anguished cries he does as much, luck or fortune giving him but a brief moment when continuous battle has wearied Morax enough to catch him offguard. A prison beneath the waves, where even the greatest quakes will be consumed by the current becomes the home of Morax, and though his losses are great Osial is undettered, finishing the last who oppose to claim Celestia's crown.

A pity the weight of the crown is not one he was meant to bear. A pity it be ill suited to his disposition.

Liyue grows, as civilisation does, but its people are different. A nation of seafarers and pirates, those who follow the old ways of Morax and Guizhong seeking harbour where Osial's waters cannot touch with ease, though he does bring the floods in his struggles to manage their defiance. The people of Osial are not prosperous but seaworn and tough, wary of outsiders, and holding respect for the sea above all others. Eventually trade grows, the need for more settlements takes them inland, but there is no Liyue Harbour as we know it.

And all the while Osial resents the fact he cannot feel pride in his victory. No matter how many battles he wins, how powerful he grows with the belief of his power, there is something fundamentally wrong. Something that draws him back to the one he keeps beneath the waves, visiting in search of the answer as to why this is wrong, without asking the question.

In the modern day Osial walks among the people in his human form, and appears before them in his god vessel. He does not make the deal with The Tsaritsa for the gnosis, for he will not part with the thing that he fought to claim. It would make things certainly interesting on how that all plays out.

INFO:

Osial is the archon, he defeated Morax by setting aside his pride and allying with others who also wanted to resist Morax. What he did not tell them was he intended to use them all as fodder to see the other fall.

Osial does not kill Morax, for he knows that killing a god is dangerous. He uses an old seal instead to keep him imprisoned within his realm. Morax has freedom within the space he is confined to but the only one who can visit is Osial.

Beisht was a casualty of Osial's campaign. He gave up everything to get the gnosis.

Carrying the weight of being the archon sits ill with Osial. It's an itch beneath the skin he cannot settle, a heavy burden that weighs on his shoulders. He will not admit to it, because to admit to it would mean he gave up everything for nothing. Unfortunately that means the brunt of his feelings is taken by either the humans or Morax is he visits him.

Osial suffers from the even when I have him imprisoned and sealed he's laughing at me attitude towards Morax. It makes his interactions cruel at times, though he can also be entirely despondant sitting for times without saying a word.

As power grows with belief, he is much stronger in this verse, for even those who choose to still follow Morax fear him and think of him.

I would imagine Xiao, in this verse, acts as the protector of the people of Morax (though of course it is up to those who rp Xiao). The adepti were given the choice to bow to Osial or see their lands consumed by the sea. Most chose neutrality out of practicality.

In my head this means that Fontaine has a geo archon instead (Navia? dsfhdskj ) but there could be possibilities for various shuffles elsewhere. I'd be happy to plot out connections.

[lurxof--thxmaw]

🎵

Send “🎵“ and I’ll reply with a song that’s related to my muse and I’ll explain why

ON ANOTHER OCEAN － Fleeting Foxes

Oh, this song. This song is so Lady and Six core. This is the song that inspired Seafarers ((although the fic is named after another beautiful song that always makes me think of them as well)) and my go-to when I need to get into that Six & Lady feel. If I had to pick a song to make a LN animatic to, it'd be this one.

The context of the song itself relates to various themes. Running away from responsabilities, the struggles that come with opening up to new people, not trusting anyone, being afraid of judgement -- so on. It also has tons of very nice eye imagery. It's a beautifully written and executed song, I beg you to go listen to it and then come back to this post.

I interpret the first half of the song to be applicable to both of them, with lines such as 《 Biding your time on another ocean, falling into line in the cold and dim 》 reminding me of the Maw and them both adhering to their respective roles in its sustainance. "Biding your time" is an expression I particularly love because it means waiting for something: the Lady waiting for Six to come find her. That's what the ticking clock in her room is, at the end of the day, isn't it? In the context of Seafarers, I named the first chapter after this line because the Lady is waiting for Six to kill her -- which eventually doesn't end up happening.

^^ ((《 Was [s]he not quite as you had conceived [her]? 》; this line will also apply to Six later on, when she realizes that the Lady is much closer to her in nature than she is to the other monsters and it deeply unnerves her. 《 Did the colors of the light hide the fire in the eyes? 》 also applies to this context as the Lady did not expect Six to rebel to the cycle [and later on to her] and gets angry at her for it. During the same instance, Six also finds herself afraid of the Lady's sudden display of emotion because up to a few seconds ago, the Lady was going to give up, but now she -- much like her -- is reactig driven by survival instinct. Most importantly, this is the first time Six sees a slither of humanity in an adult and the fact that it's so close to her own, again, destabilises her. Everything they do is completely unexpected for the other and as much as they wish it was incomprehensible, they always find points that ties them to the other and it stings.))

The two lines preceeding the chorus, 《 Wherever you run, you see all you leave behind you/you see only eyes behind you 》 is again applicable to both of them, and how they literally and figuratively cut their pasts away from their current selves, and yet it always finds a way to catch up to them one way or another. And of course, the more literal eyes they live under, always watching them.

The titular "other ocean" in this context is each other. They are the other ocean the other can't seem to open up to. Something that is so foreign and yet so familiar.

The second verse of the song is more easily divided into Lady and Six bits. I see it as a conversation between each other and reflections on themselves. The first verse is VERY Lady talking to Six as it states:

《 So, do you think the smoke won't enfold you? 》, referring of course to the ending of LN I, but also to the fate that has bestowed the Lady and the ones before her. To the madame, Six's refusal to go through with her fate is the uncomfortable demonstration that she too had that same power. And instead she just chose to follow it because it was easier. The Lady wouldn't give up her position for anything in the world, but even then, this freedom Six has makes her incredibly angry. She is convinced that eventually all this will catch up go Six. It continues with, 《 Or there'll be someone waiting for you, out in the distance then? 》, which is meant to be a derision as the Lady and Six both know that there is no one and nothing waiting for Six off the Maw. No place can ever provide the comfort and safety the Maw does. Whatever is out there will be infinitely worse. There is no certainty, no guarantee that she will live: nothing at all. Six is completely alone and defenseless anywhere that is not the Maw.

The next verse is from Six's perspective. It is a plead, sort of, but also an acknowledgement.

《 If only anything could change you.》 This line resonated very strongly with me while writing because I think it encapsulates the feeling of "child acting like an adult and adult acting like a child" perfectly. In the context of Seafarers, the Lady is essentially throwing a very elegant tantrum. On the other hand, Six is reflecting. Her plan is to escape the Maw, yes, and to do that she needs to study a way out. Doing so causes her to inevitably come to "know" the Lady and, while their similarities cause her to be incredibly uncomfortable and upset, it also creates an inexplicable feeling of kinship.

Wanting to be understood is human. And Six is a nine year old girl who has lived through the unimaginable. None of her peers has gone through what she has. But the Lady did. Out of everyone, she is the only one who could ever understand Six. If only they could see eye to eye. Six is young, she doesn't know how to put this feeling to words and even if she did, she doesn't want to admit it as she knows it will be immediately rejected: it's frustrating as it is sad. 《 If only you knew what you claim to, if only every sign you cling to -- if only they were so. 》

I find the 《 And I won't bleed out if I know me 》 line to be incredibly Ladycore because... the Lady doesn't know herself. And she will bleed out eventually because of it.

The 《 Don't deny me! 》 comes from both ends. Six asks for the Lady to not deny her (by extension, her own past self she sees in her, as well as the yellow raincoat they both used to share), and the Lady orders Six not to deny their shared fate and the legacy of the Lady of the Maw.

The 《 I will lead it in the morning, I won't even if I know it 》 is Six eventually trying to come to terms with her future once the Lady is gone. A part of her has been irrequivocably changed from the experience (( 《 You [Six] ended up too strained 》 )) but it doesn't change the fact that she doesn't want to be on the Maw. She doesn't want to be the next Lady. Even if she was to try like her predecessor tried to manipulate her into, she would still crave freedom. She would always look for somewhere else to go.

On one hand, she has her duties and responsibilities towards the children of the Maw; on the other, herself. She has to let go of one to let the other survive. And suddenly she is in the Lady's shoes, back when she was still named Five. The intentions of the two are very different though: while Six wants to look out for her peers, Five only cared about her own protection. But the outcome might still be the same; at the end of her journey, Six might no longer be Six.

《 We're in the eye sometimes. Too young... too young... 》

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 77

Taglist: @mercedesdecorazon @stargaryenx @arrthurpendragon

Gif by @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends

Her first kiss had been at this hour, she had been three and ten and he about to turn four and ten.

It is the hour of the eel when they find him.

Cold to the touch and barely alive.

The current had led him to the river bank at a distance where the water was boiling black and red over his dragon’s resting place.

“I am sorry, your grace.” The guard said taking off his helm in respect for the dead.

Aemma knows how to resuscitate a drowned person.

Every Velaryon is taught and Teora had reminded Aemma that as a seafaring people it was indispensable for them to get over the idea of putting her lips on a person and take it seriously.

She doesn’t bother undressing him with care and instead takes his own dagger and cuts the straps on the sides of his armor, she doesn’t stop until she and Cole have freed his chest from the leather padding and the cotton shirt she had mended for him yesterday.

The queen placed her hands on her husband’s cold chest and pressed just as she had been taught.

But it isn’t enough.

A Mermaid’s Kiss, some call it.

As she pinched his nose and opened his mouth, Aemma gives him what she hopes is not his last kiss.

Aemond knows he is not dead.

He comes to his senses doubled over as he expelled the water inside his lungs the same way it came into them.

Aemma holds him by the shoulders, crying in joy as Cole shouts ‘long live the king’ to their men.

They cheer for him, for them because perhaps the gods have decided they were done torturing his poor wife.

He is bruised, and while he did manage to shake off his boot, Aemond still managed to break his left foot.

If four days felt too long, six weeks would feel like torture.

But he is alive, and if he is alive then maybe Aemma can change fate.

“I suppose the Gods have declared you innocent, boy.” Roddy the Ruin says when they get back to Harrenhal.

“I never meant to kill Lucerys, I lost control over my dragon who mistook the command to chase after him for killing him.” Aemond admits and somehow these strangers believe him.

His own mother hadn’t.

Even Cole had doubted his word.

He supposed his being alive proves his innocence.

“I swore an oath on my son’s life I would not kill him, and I kept it.”

Vhagar had acted on instinct, the old beast while large and formidable, had been as old as the Doom and with age she had become difficult to subdue.

As stupid as it sounds, his dragon had killed the boy, not him.

He had never broken his oath.

Something that the Northmen and the Rivermen could respect.

Aemond only likes to be fussed over in private and while he has never been the one to show his affection in public, but he holds her hand just as he did when Luke accidentally took his eye.

The maester binds his foot and his grip on her hand tightened from the pain.

He may walk with crutches, ride in a few weeks and ,as mortified as Aemma had been when her husband asked, there was no reason to keep Aemond from his husbandly duties.

“Aegon lives. He has taken Dragonstone and demands I bend the knee to him.” He says once the pain subsidies enough to speak without gritting his teeth.

Thank the gods Baela was in High Tide and not Dragonstone. Gods forbid Aegon gets his hand on her.

“Imagine his shock when he finds his reign to be illegitimate in more ways than one.”

If the King’s Will could be disregarded in favor of Aegon, then it will be easy to disregard the Great Council now that Baela has sent the letters proving it was rigged.

Letters written by King Jaehaerys himself saying it had to be done.

Letters detailing how Otto Hightower, Grand Maester Runciter and Maester Mellos had done it.

Letters that had Sabitha Frey speechless and offering ravens and scribes to spread it through the Seven Kingdoms and across the Narrow Sea as well.

Once Aemma is on the Throne, she will codify primogeniture regardless of sex into the laws of Westeros and ensure a war like this never happens again.

And in all the commotion, Aemma forgets to tell him about Addam.

There is no good opportunity for it, she tells herself.

“Have my sons brought home, Mysaria.” The queen orders as seven year old Joffrey, the last of her children with Harwin, is measured for his coronation clothes.

He took after her, more than his brothers and sister. Had her blue-lavender eyes like Aemma and Aegon did. Had her nose and Harwin’s smile.

The last of her boys.

“As you wish.” The woman said.

“Will Aemma come too, mama?” Her sweet boy asked.

He believes he will be Prince of Dragonstone because he is a boy, he doesn’t know his sister chose Alicent’s one-eyed son over them.

“I doubt the One-Eye will let her, your highness. Not after he killed your step-father.” The White Worm spoke with a voice as soft and cool as Yi-Tish silk.

It was a voice one could believe no matter what lies she sold to you.

Daemon had challenged Aemond to a duel, not just a duel, but a Trial by Combat.

And he had lost.

A heart attack as they fought or so Aemond had told his wife while Lady Misery’s spies write everything down.

‘I lost control of Vhagar, I never meant to kill your brother.’ Sweet lies he tells her stupid daughter, sweet lies she eats straight from his lips.

“That’s enough for today,” Rhaenyra dismissed the tailors.

“What news have you for me?” The queen asked the Mistress of Whisperers.

“Did you hear? The Great Council was a sham, says so here.” The girl named Heidi said and gave Wyl the strange letter being sent everywhere at once.

It was not news to him, Maester Mellos has confessed it on his death bed, but he had not assumed any proof existed.

“I pray you can forgive, Rhaenys, but my Hand believes this is the best way to avoid bloodshed and this war I see in my nightmares.” Orwyle read to the whores who look too disturbingly similar to the Princesses he himself helped deliver.

With this letter, the reigns of Viserys, Aegon and Rhaenyra are rendered null.

The queen barely liked her daughter defying her, now this combined with Daemon’s death would be something straight from the Seventh Hell.

“What does the Shepherd say?” the Maester asked his unwitting informants.

“He says it is time to take back the realm and rid ourselves of the dragons.” Zelda said with a look of utter devotion he mislikes.

She never missed a sermon, went there in disguise because the Shepherd is fond of killing whores.

“Tomorrow we storm the dragonpit.”

[maritimeseabeasts]

NEW EXPLANATION OF THE MONSTER TUGS AU:

According to the legend, Monster tugs were an unexpected result of the curse that befell the galleons. The curse not only revived these tugs but also fused them with the essence of an animal, whether extinct or not.

After their resurrection, the tugs became biomechanical creatures, composed of a fusion of skin, bone, and metal. Additionally, they inherited the instincts and behaviors of the animal they were fused with, shaping their personalities and motivations.

As soon as they appeared, most humans reacted by either attacking them or attempting to tame them for various harbor-related tasks.

However, the Monster tugs proved to be quite resistant to taming, and many of them remained fiercely independent and unpredictable. Some Monster tugs even developed a taste for human flesh, making them feared and avoided by sailors and dockworkers alike.

Over time, a sort of uneasy truce was established between humans and Monster tugs, with the latter being granted a certain degree of autonomy in exchange for performing vital tasks such as towing, docking, and salvaging.

Despite this, the existence of Monster tugs remained a source of fascination and terror for many, and they continue to be a popular subject of myths and legends among sailors and seafaring communities. Some even claim that the Monster tugs are the guardians of the ocean, watching over ships and sailors and ensuring their safe passage.

Others believe that they are cursed beings, forever trapped in their half-living, half-mechanical state, and doomed to roam the seas forever.

Regardless of what people believe about Monster tugs, one thing is certain: they are a force to be reckoned with. Their immense strength, combined with their animalistic instincts, makes them formidable opponents. They are known to attack ships that venture too close to their territories or that pose a threat to their food sources.

However, there are also those who have managed to form bonds with Monster tugs, earning their trust and loyalty. These individuals are often called "Monster Tug Whisperers," and they are highly respected and sought after by sailors and dockworkers alike.

Despite their fearsome reputation, Monster tugs are an integral part of seafaring culture. They are a reminder that the ocean is a vast and mysterious place, full of wonders and dangers that are beyond human comprehension. And for those brave enough to venture out into the open sea, they serve as both a warning and a promise of the adventures that await.

As time went on, some sailors began to see the Monster tugs not as a threat, but as a valuable asset. They started to train them for various tasks, including fishing, salvage operations, and even search and rescue missions.

The Monster tugs proved to be incredibly adept at these tasks, thanks to their natural abilities and their biomechanical enhancements. They could dive to great depths, tow heavy loads, and navigate through treacherous waters with ease.

As a result, Monster tugs became increasingly sought after by sailors and shipping companies. Some even began breeding them, hoping to create new and improved versions that could perform even more specialized tasks.

However, this led to controversy and debate among those who saw the Monster tugs as living beings rather than machines. They argued that breeding them for human purposes was unethical and cruel, and that the Monster tugs should be allowed to live their lives free from human interference.

Despite these concerns, the use of Monster tugs in the shipping industry continued to grow, and they became a common sight in ports and harbors around the world. But even as they became more commonplace, their mystery and allure remained, and they continued to fascinate and inspire seafarers of all kinds.

As the use of Monster tugs grew, so did the demand for Monster Tug Whisperers. These individuals were essential in training and communicating with the Monster tugs, as well as developing a deep understanding of their animalistic instincts.

Some Monster Tug Whisperers even formed close bonds with their Monster tugs, treating them like loyal companions rather than mere machines. They were able to understand their moods and motivations, and in turn, the Monster tugs seemed to trust and respect them.

However, despite the growing acceptance of Monster tugs in the shipping industry, there were still those who feared and mistrusted them. There were reports of Monster tugs attacking ships and harbors, and some sailors claimed that they were deliberately targeting humans.

These incidents only added to the ongoing debate about the ethics of using Monster tugs for human purposes. Some argued that they were simply following their instincts and defending their territories, while others believed that they were dangerous and unpredictable creatures that should be avoided at all costs.

Despite these concerns, the use of Monster tugs continued to grow, and they became an integral part of the seafaring world. Whether they were viewed as allies or adversaries, one thing was certain: the Monster tugs were a unique and fascinating addition to the world's oceans, and their legacy would continue to be felt for generations to come.

As the years went by, more and more research was conducted on the behavior and biology of Monster tugs. Scientists studied their movements, communication patterns, and even their genetic makeup in an effort to better understand these mysterious creatures.

Through this research, they discovered that Monster tugs were not just mindless machines, but rather highly intelligent creatures with complex social structures and emotions. They also found that the reports of Monster tugs attacking ships and harbors were often exaggerated or misinterpreted, and that these incidents were usually the result of human error or misunderstanding.

Armed with this new knowledge, the use of Monster tugs became even more widespread and accepted. They were used not only for shipping, but also for deep sea exploration, scientific research, and even entertainment.

Despite the initial skepticism and fear surrounding their use, the Monster tugs proved to be a valuable and integral part of the seafaring world. And while the debate over their ethics and treatment would continue, there was no denying the impact that these remarkable creatures had on the world's oceans and the humans who depended on them.

As time passed, more Monster Tug Whisperers emerged, developing new training techniques and communication methods to further improve the relationship between humans and Monster tugs. These individuals were highly respected and sought after, with many aspiring Monster Tug Whisperers undergoing extensive training to join their ranks.

The bond between Monster Tug Whisperers and their Monster tugs became a thing of legend, with stories of epic rescues and daring expeditions circulating throughout the seafaring community. It was said that some Monster Tug Whisperers were even able to communicate with their Monster tugs telepathically, forging a connection that went beyond words.

Despite the advancements in technology and the use of Monster tugs becoming more widespread, there were still those who advocated for their rights and protection. Some argued that Monster tugs deserved the same treatment as any other sentient beings and that they should not be exploited for human gain.

This movement led to the establishment of new regulations and laws to ensure the fair treatment and protection of Monster tugs. Many shipping companies also began to prioritize the well-being of their Monster tugs, investing in their training, healthcare, and overall welfare.

As the use of Monster tugs continued to evolve and improve, it became clear that they were not just tools for human use, but rather an essential part of the marine ecosystem. And while there were still debates over their role in society, the legacy of the Monster tugs and their impact on the world's oceans would be felt for generations to come.

As society's understanding of Monster tugs evolved, so did their role in the marine ecosystem. Scientists discovered that Monster tugs played a vital role in maintaining the balance of the ocean's food chain, as they were often the top predators in their habitats.

Their ability to navigate treacherous waters and tow massive cargo made them invaluable assets for emergency response teams during natural disasters and oil spills. They could tow damaged vessels to safety, remove debris from the water, and even assist in the cleanup of oil spills.

Furthermore, Monster tugs were often used in deep sea exploration, assisting scientists in mapping the ocean floor and discovering new species. Their intelligence and ability to communicate also made them valuable subjects for research on animal cognition and behavior.

The role of Monster tugs in society continued to expand, and their impact on the world's oceans was undeniable. Their legacy would continue to inspire awe and wonder, serving as a reminder of the incredible diversity and resilience of the natural world.

However, with their increased role in society came new challenges and responsibilities. The demand for Monster tugs grew, and there were concerns about overexploitation and the impact on their natural habitats. There were also debates about the ethics of using Monster tugs for entertainment and whether it was appropriate to breed them for human use.

In response to these concerns, new regulations and guidelines were established to ensure the responsible use and protection of Monster tugs. These regulations included limits on breeding and harvesting, requirements for humane treatment and care, and efforts to protect their natural habitats.

The Monster Tug Whisperer profession continued to evolve as well, with a greater emphasis on conservation and sustainability. Many Monster Tug Whisperers became advocates for the protection of Monster tugs and worked to raise awareness about their importance in the marine ecosystem.

As the world continued to change, the legacy of the Monster tugs remained a symbol of the incredible diversity and resilience of the natural world. Their presence in the oceans served as a reminder of the delicate balance between human progress and the preservation of the environment, inspiring future generations to strive for a more sustainable and responsible world.

In addition to the regulations and guidelines, there were also efforts to educate the public about the ethics of using Monster tugs for entertainment purposes. Many people were unaware of the potential harm caused by keeping these creatures in captivity or using them for human entertainment.

As a result, Monster Tug Whisperers and conservation organizations launched campaigns to promote ethical treatment and responsible use of Monster tugs. These campaigns aimed to raise awareness about the importance of protecting these creatures and their habitats, as well as to educate the public about the potential consequences of their actions.

With the increased emphasis on conservation and sustainability, new technologies were also developed to help protect Monster tugs and their habitats. For example, researchers developed advanced tracking and monitoring systems to study the behavior and movements of these creatures, helping to identify areas in need of protection and assess the impact of human activities on their populations.

Overall, the increased attention and regulation of Monster tugs highlighted the importance of responsible stewardship of the natural world. By recognizing the challenges and responsibilities associated with human use of these creatures, society was able to move towards a more sustainable and ethical future, one that values both progress and the preservation of the environment.

As the public became more aware of the potential harm caused by using Monster tugs for entertainment, the demand for alternative forms of entertainment grew. In response, new forms of eco-friendly entertainment emerged, such as underwater tours and eco-tourism experiences that allowed people to observe Monster tugs in their natural habitats without causing harm to them.

Furthermore, as technology continued to advance, there were new opportunities to explore and understand the world beneath the waves.

Underwater drones and submersibles were developed, allowing researchers to study Monster tugs and other marine life in unprecedented detail. These technological advancements also allowed for the development of new methods for sustainable harvesting of resources from the oceans, further emphasizing the importance of responsible stewardship of these fragile ecosystems.

The legacy of the Monster tugs served as a reminder of the need to balance progress and economic growth with the protection of the natural world. As society continued to evolve, the lessons learned from the history of Monster tugs were carried forward, with a renewed commitment to conservation and sustainability.

By continuing to prioritize responsible stewardship of the natural world, future generations will be able to enjoy the incredible diversity and resilience of the natural world for centuries to come.

As the world continued to face new environmental challenges, the lessons learned from the history of Monster tugs became even more important. Climate change, pollution, and habitat destruction threatened not only Monster tugs but also countless other species that call the oceans their home.

In response, there were renewed efforts to protect and conserve marine ecosystems. Governments and international organizations established new policies and regulations to reduce pollution, protect habitats, and promote sustainable fishing practices.

At the same time, individuals and communities also played a crucial role in these efforts, working to raise awareness and promote sustainable behaviors that would help protect the oceans and the creatures that inhabit them.

The legacy of the Monster tugs served as a powerful reminder of the importance of responsible stewardship of the natural world. By recognizing the potential impact of human actions on the environment and taking steps to mitigate these effects, society was able to move towards a more sustainable future, one that balances economic growth and progress with the protection of the natural world.

Looking to the future, the lessons learned from the history of Monster tugs will continue to guide our efforts to protect and conserve the oceans and their inhabitants.

By embracing responsible stewardship and working together to protect the natural world, we can ensure that future generations will be able to enjoy the incredible diversity and beauty of our planet's oceans for many years to come.

And as the awareness for monsters continued, there was soon discovered other vehicle types on land and in sea and in the air , that also required responsible stewardship and sustainable use. The lessons learned from the history of Monster tugs were applied to these new vehicles and technologies, inspiring a global movement towards more sustainable and responsible practices across industries and sectors.

The legacy of the Monster tugs served as a powerful example of how individuals and communities can come together to protect the natural world and preserve its incredible diversity and beauty.

By continuing to learn from the lessons of the past, we can work towards a brighter, more sustainable future, where economic growth and progress are balanced with the protection and conservation of the environment.

As we move forward, it is important to remember the powerful lessons of the Monster tugs, and to continue to work towards a world where all creatures, great and small, are able to thrive in harmony with each other and with the natural world around them.

By embracing a spirit of responsible stewardship and cooperation, we can ensure that future generations inherit a planet that is healthy, vibrant, and full of life.

(MORE COMING SOON)