#Tax advisor near you

[felixadvisory]

Benefits of Engaging a Tax Advisor Near You

A tax advisor near you offers the convenience of face-to-face consultations and a deep understanding of local tax laws. Felix Advisory provides top-tier tax consultancy services, helping clients navigate complex tax issues with ease. By working with our experienced tax advisors, you gain access to personalized strategies and insights that drive financial success.

[stonebasalt]

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[bleach-your-panties]

ᰔℊℯ𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃' 𝒾𝓉 𝓅ℴ𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃' with ONYANKOPON on a balcony.

for my 1500+ 𝒻ℴ𝓁𝓁ℴ𝓌ℯ𝓇 ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓃𝓉. requested by @prettybraat.

ᰔhere you go baby, happy black history month!❤️💚💛

ᰔcw: modern au! fem, black reader. balcony sex, exhibitionism, panty-ripping, backshots, hair-pulling, scratching.

ᰔdividers by @/benkeibear.

ᰔwc: 2.2k

💗💗🍡°taglist: @enchantedforest-network @bakugosbratx @chifuyuskoneko @honeybleed @hoesluvshanti @chrollohearttags @darkstarlight82 @blkkizzat @bey0nseh @kokonoiscoconut (if anyone wants to be added to taglist, please fill out linked google form, thx!)

When your boyfriend, Onyankopon, or ‘Ony’ for short, texted you with a simple ‘get ready’ you immediately hopped up to pack an overnight bag.

Ony works as a financial consultant for one of the biggest banks in Atlanta, as well as a personal finance advisor, so he’s never short on dough and absolutely does not mind spending his hard-earned money on his baby girl.

You haven’t seen him in a while due to it being tax season and him working overtime at the bank, so you knew that when you saw him, you were definitely getting your back blown out.

As you were deciding which pairs of sexy panties you wanted to bring, your phone began to ring. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.” Your man’s smooth, baritone voice filtered its way from the phone speaker and into your ear making you clench your thighs together.

“Hey, pooh. Are you off of work already? I’m still getting my stuff together.”

Onyankopon laughed once he heard you rummaging around in your room; who knows what all you were throwing in that gold and black sequin Victoria’s Secret duffle bag you loved so much.

“I’m about to FaceTime you, baby. I want to show you something.”

When he said that, you stopped packing and focused all of your attention on the phone - Ony chuckled because he knew how nosy you were.

The request to FaceTime immediately came through and you accepted it.

“ONYANKOPON!!”

He just chuckled deeply, “Not the government.” 

On your screen currently sat the finest version of your man that you had ever seen.

Now, Ony had always been fine; let's make that abundantly clear…

Smooth, flawless dark-brown skin, toned muscular body, tattoos up and down his arms and back (that were usually hidden by his business suits), straight white teeth, and don’t forget the inches that he was packing - eight and a half, to be exact.

Long, thick, and hard.

…but Ony with a fade and dreads pulled back in a half-up half-down ponytail? 

Oh, he must've been trying to call in for the next week or so.

“You went quiet on me, bae. Do you like it?’’ You were snapped out of your nasty little reverie.

“Do I like it? Babe, you look so fucking mouthwatering right now. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make the drive all the way to yours.”

Flirting sensually, you leaned your upper body into the camera and let your breasts spill out of your tank top for your man’s viewing pleasure.

You didn’t miss how Ony raised an eyebrow and bit down on his lower lip, pausing before he continued,

“To mine? Oh, we’re not going to mine, baby girl. I made a reservation for us at the Waldorf Astoria in Buckhead.” 

Leaning back out of the camera frame, you made your perfectly arched eyebrows jump while bringing a hand to your mouth to chew on the tip of one of your baby blue stiletto nails.

“You did, babe? That’s so sweet of you, I can’t-”

Before you could finish your sentence, you heard a loud car horn honk from outside.

“Ony!! I didn’t know you were damn near almost here; why didn’t you say something, boy?!”

Tossing the phone onto the bed, you hurriedly gathered the rest of your things and shoved them into the bag before zipping it up. Your slides were on the side of your bed, so you slipped your matching pedicured toes into them and grabbed your keys off your nightstand.

“Hey, who you think you raising yo voice at, huh? Be good for me and come on outside, baby.”

—-

After climbing into the passenger seat of Ony’s navy blue BMW X5, he shut the door behind you and returned to the driver’s side.

You watched him carefully with slightly lidded eyes as he put his hand on the back of your headrest and backed out of the driveway.

Ony could feel you burning a hole in the side of his head, which made him bite his bottom lip again and send you a furtive glance while he drove through Atlanta traffic.

“What’s up, mama? Why you keep on staring at me?”

He knew good and damn well why you were staring at him.

You knew that he knew, because of the little smirk that formed at the corner of his plump lips as he held onto your thigh with his right hand and drove with his left hand holding the middle of the steering wheel.

The ride was leisurely, as all you had to do was sit there and look pretty, one leg propped up over the other as you scrolled through your TikTok feed. 

Ony moved his hand from your thigh to your foot, slipping your slide off and rubbing the sole of your foot.

“Oh! Babe…”

He just let out a soft hum of acknowledgment before turning into the parking lot of Seasons 52. 

Since Ony had made a reservation, you didn't have to wait long before a waitress came out to direct you both to your table.

This isn’t your first time coming here, but you still marvel at how everything on the menu constantly shifts and changes, yet always manages to always taste so delicious.

The salmon that you ordered was roasted to perfection; the potatoes just melted in your mouth and the green beans had just the right amount of crunch. 

Dinner conversation was fruitful, full of talks about your plans for university and Ony of the new investments that he was planning to make.

He held your free hand in his and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles while he sipped his wine and listened to you talk. 

His cocoa-brown eyes shined with love and admiration for you as you excitedly spilled about all of the classes that you’d be taking during the upcoming semester.

After you finished your dinner, Ony called for the waitress so he could pay then the two of you left with him guiding you by the small of your back to his car.

—-

Once you checked into your suite, Ony was on you like white on rice.

His large hands gripped you up, fondling your voluptuous ass cheeks while he repeatedly slotted his lips over yours in hot kisses filled with longing and need.

The cold links of his watch against your exposed lower back made a shiver race down your spine as you slowly lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. 

Ony looked down at you, meeting your big, brown doe eyes; immediately his dick began to harden in his slacks.

“Nuh uh, we don’t have time for that right now, baby. I have another plan for yo sexy ass.” 

He swatted away the hand that reached for his belt buckle and pulled you up by your bicep.

The suite Ony booked was almost as big as your entire damn apartment: two bedrooms, a spacious living area, a kitchenette (that was too big to be considered a kitchenette), and two bathrooms, both fitted with walk-in showers and whirlpool tubs.

Your nails clawed at the pressed cotton of his white dress shirt as he backed both of you up into the nearest bedroom. The motion-sensor lamps clicked on as soon as you stepped over the threshold, bathing both of you in a sensual, amber glow.

The curtain to the in-suite balcony was pulled back revealing the beautiful Buckhead cityscape below you, along with a navy sky full of bright, twinkling stars.

Ony began unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it free from where it was tucked into his pants as he finally allowed you to grab his belt and begin unbuckling it.

“Somebody’s impatient..” He chuckled as you yanked it from the loops and threw it across the room.

Once he was shirtless and you were down to your panties, he scooped you up and carried you over to the window.

“Wait, Onyankopon, what do you think you’re doing??”

He didn’t answer, but instead unlocked the glass door leading out to the balcony and stepped outside with you clinging to him.

The slightly cool breeze from the evening air whipped against your naked skin and made you press yourself further into Ony, who cradled your chin and brought your mouth back to his to give you another breathtaking kiss.

“I remember you saying that you wanted to try some different things, so here’s your opportunity, baby. Now turn around and grab that rail for me.”

His big hand went to the fly of his pants for him to unzip them and tug them down. He pulled a condom out of his pocket and began sliding it over his hard dick.

Just as you were about to do as you were told, you could hear faint chatter from below: a couple of floors below, there was a group of men and women seated at a round table out on their balcony, having drinks.

“Ony, there’s people out here - what if they see me?” Bashfully, your hands flew to cover your naked breasts. 

As you were leaning down to look at the other guests, Ony rubbed his dick between your ass cheeks, bumping it against your clit. A soft moan left your lips and your eyes almost closed before you remembered what you were supposed to be doing.

“They won’t see you, baby. They might hear you, though.” 

You heard that damn smirk in his voice, but soon you forgot all about anyone hearing once Ony grabbed your panties with one finger and ripped the flimsy material off of you, flinging it aside.

“Oh, babe!”

A loud moan was pulled from you as your boyfriend pushed the head of his dick into your opening. Your hands flew forward and you took a tight hold of the balcony’s railing as Ony started pounding you swiftly from the back.

The sounds of your ass colliding with his hips were loud throughout the silent night, so if those people were just really listening they’d easily be able to tell what the two of you were doing.

One tiny hand with those baby blue nails fell free from the rail and grabbed at Ony’s veiny forearm for leverage; his thrusts had your entire body quivering already. 

Soon enough, long scratches began to cover his arm as you tried your best to hold onto him.

You looked up at him and could feel him grow harder inside of you from the visual: fat ass bouncing back on him, braids shaking free from your bun, and your mascara beginning to run.

“Hm, what?” He licked his lips again but didn’t slow his pace as he just looked back into your misty eyes. “What is it, baby? Too much for ya?”

“Ony, I’m…” You trailed off as he suddenly picked you up underneath your thighs, his forearms resting in the creases of your knees.

“I didn’t tell you to let go of that damn rail.”

“ONYANKOPON!”

“And you were worried about somebody hearing you.” He laughed and bent you in half, still jackhammering away as you bumped and jostled against his body, 

Your upper half is now bent over the railing as the wind picks up and whips your hair across your face.

“Onyankopon, I’m going to fall!” 

“I won’t let you fucking fall, girl. Got too many muscles to let you fall.”

He grunted and locked his arms around your thighs, heavy balls slapping against your ass with loud, wet smacks.

“Hold the fucking rail, and hold that nut, too. I’m almost there. Gunna cum for you, baby; just hold still for me.”

Ony grabbed your hair up into a ponytail to pull it out of your face and also to yank your head back so he could whisper in your ear.

“You see that shit, baby? See those city lights beaming so fucking bright for you as I fuck your tight little pussy open?”

“Ohh, oh God! Yes, baby, I see them! Fuck, I see them!”

“You cumming?”

“YES! Yes, I’m cumming, oh my God! I’m cumming, baby!”

“Let it go then, baby. Go ahead and cum for ‘The Great One’*”

After that, you were done.

Your release washed over you like a wave; luckily Onyankopon was holding onto you or you might’ve actually flipped head-first over that balcony.

You both moaned each others’ names as your orgasm triggered his, bodies bathed in the pale moonlight of the night, surrounded by nothing but the stars and your love for one another.

—-

After that first round on the balcony, Onyankopon took you back into the room and the two of you went at it in nearly every area of the large presidential suite.

He even took you again in the shower before he washed you both off, wrapped you in a towel, and brought you over to the bed, wrapping you up in the covers.

“I love you, Y/N…my shining star..” Was the last thing you heard before you drifted off into dreamland, nothing but sweet thoughts of your handsome man on your mind.

—--

a/n: *Onyankopon means ’God’ in the Ghanian language and ‘The Great One’ in Ashanti mythology, referring to the Sky God.

get it poppin! 💄event ©bleach-your-panties 2024. do NOT steal, copy, repost, alter, or upload my works onto other sites. comments appreciated. reblogs always welcome.

[milliesfishes]

꣑ৎ౨ৎFairytales (Part Two)꣑ৎ౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: fluff, angst, suggestion of age gap marriage pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: desperately in love with billy, you encounter a roadblock that may force you apart author’s note: as with many of my series, there will be one more part! enjoy <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, they say. Heavier still is the head of the women beside it.

You surveyed the row of glittering tiaras on the pink shelf of your closet, twining a strand of hair around your finger. Right now, you were supposed to be picking one out to wear for your required day in the throne room, but you could hardly concentrate.

The only thing on your mind was Billy, and his parting kiss the night before. He'd been so sweet, brushing his thumb under your chin and telling you he'd see you soon.

Turning back to the shelf, you played with the strand, tossing it over your shoulder. Drearily you picked one of the simpler pieces, smaller and studded with diamonds. It matched your pink dress well enough.

Your maid nodded approvingly, giving you a smile. "You look beautiful, my lady."

"Thank you," you nodded, and she curtsied before she left.

As you studied your reflection in the mirror, you wished Billy could see you. His was the only approval you cared about. Tracing a hand over the pastel embossed spines of your storybooks, you wished for the days when you were allowed to stay upstairs and read about your knights and princesses.

When your father had left to fight gallantly alongside his men in the crusade, it had been decided for you that your childhood was over. You were his only child, and a woman, nonetheless. There was nobody to step up save for his second-in-command.

Nicholas was a dark man in appearance and demeanor. He wore the crown proudly, with an air of superiority and cunning leadership. It was your job to stand by him, to support him in his actions. But you didn't enjoy being near him. He was always eyeing you in a way that made your skin crawl.

As a child he had always scared you. Your father's leg had been your hiding spot when you were near him. But now your one refuge was far away from here, leaving you to fend for yourself against someone you wouldn't want to be in a room alone with. You had tried to remain positive in your thinking when your father departed, trying desperately not to worry about your future. Surely if he had trusted Nicholas, you could as well.

It would have been one thing if the man was as fair and just as your father had once been. But in all reality, it couldn't have been further from the truth. Nicholas wielded the power of the crown like a sword, taxing the people of the kingdom mercilessly. He viewed commoners as beneath him, and anybody who opposed him a traitor. Members of your father's council were banished and worse, causing all members of the palace to move in silence and fear or their lives.

Not only did he exercise such regulation over staff, but he did also so over you. Since he was acting for the king, you were technically his responsibility. Mixing up that and control, the king insisted on approving nearly everything about your life. Your expenses, your lessons, even the food you ate. It was suffocating.

Billy and all memories associated with him became your escape. You hid from your fear in the hallowed halls of your time with him. Every touch, every kiss was your home away from the cozy space of your bedroom where you could dream of him in private.

All day Nicholas heard out advisors, civilians, staff...everybody it felt like. There were short breaks for barely-enough meals between. You hated that you were forced to be present for it all, making it seem like you supported what he did. Since you weren't allowed to speak during this time, you daydreamt, toying with the heart charm of the necklace Billy had gifted you, smiling as you remembered his soft kisses and assurances of love. With Billy you didn't feel like one of the kingdom's monarchs, you felt like his princess.

There was no pressure in his presence. With anybody else you were forced to adapt the persona assigned to you at birth. With him you felt nothing weighing over your head, just love, with no strings attached.

When the advisor Nicholas had been listening to retreated into the main hallway, you breathed in relief. Finally, some respite from the long hours of merely being present.

The king turned to you; his dark eyes fixed upon your face. "Tired?"

"No," you lied, straightening up. Smoothing your hands over your skirt, you gave him a hesitant smile.

"I would think you would be," he commented, still staring at you. "After your excursion last night."

Furrowing your brow, you lifted your eyes to meet his. "Excuse me?"

"One of the guards saw you leave your bedroom last night," he started, voice icy. "He didn't catch sight of where you went, but I can only assume there was a reason you waited until dark to leave."

Your heart pounded against your chest, and you kept your face neutral. "I went to the kitchens. For a pastry."

Nicholas' face was unchanging. He turned his head to look forward. You could practically hear the gears working in his head. "There have been discussions regarding you. The advisors all believe it time you took a husband."

Eyes widening, the words hit you hard, sinking like a stone to the bottom of your stomach. Where had this come from? "A husband, sire?"

"Far too long have you been left to run around like a loose peasant girl with no morals." His words stung, but you lifted your chin as he said his next part. "Women younger than you have been married for years now. It is embarrassing for the kingdom to have a charge who cannot even do that."

"You cannot force me to marry," you shook your head, gripping your rosy skirts with intensity.

"I assure you I can," Nicholas said in an arctic tone. "In the coming days, expect a list of suitors to be brought forth. You will be allowed a choice. If not, I will choose for you."

The orange of the sunset breathed through the windows as he stood and exited, casting a glow over him that didn't feel fitting. You watched him leave, trying to hold your tears back.

The only person you'd dream of entering marriage with was on the run, wanted by the king's lawmen. If it wouldn't put him in danger, you would have shouted from the castle roof how much you wanted him in that way.

Getting to your feet, you folded your arms over yourself, dismissing your ladies-in-waiting. They threw concerned glances at you as they parted ways. You nearly bumped into every kitchen maid and guard you encountered on the way up the grand staircase and through the hallways because crystal tears were blurring your vision.

Reaching your bedroom, you leaned against the shut door once you were inside, water freeing itself from your eyes and streaming down your cheeks. You didn't want to marry anybody...you wanted Billy. In the back of your mind, you had somehow known that you wouldn't be allowed to stay husband-less forever, but love had blinded you to the closeness of that day.

You cleared tears from your cheeks, mind racing as you tried to come up with a solution. Thoughts ranged from running away to marrying someone and still seeing Billy. But in your frenzied state, none of them were viable, which only made your panic worse.

The open window's usual delivered scent of roses calmed you down slightly, and you took in a deep breath, quelling your thoughts. There was an answer somewhere. You just had to sit with it for a while.

A knock on the side of the window startled you, and you jumped, eyes wide as your head snapped up. There, sitting on the sill, you saw a grinning Billy, hoisting one leg over to rest on the seat cushion. "Hey, princess."

Rushing over, you pulled the glass shut behind him in a hurried fashion, whipping to face him. "What are you doing here? You didn't send word."

He half-smiled. "Thought I'd surprise ya. Made good time gettin' over here." Looking around, he said, "This is your room, huh? 'S cute."

As he studied the vastly pink space, you fidgeted with your hands. "This is dangerous- you could have been caught. You could still be caught."

"Don't get too worked up, darlin'," he smiled, brushing his hand over your cheek. "I can handle myself. They ain't caught me yet."

He reached up, adjusting the tiara in your hair, a loving look in his eyes. "So pretty... ain't seen ya all dolled up in a long while."

"Since the night we met, I don't think," you murmured, forgetting your worries for a moment.

Billy grinned, holding out his hand and twirling you once you took it. "I'll never forget it...you, dressed as an angel."'

"And you, definitely not supposed to be there," you leaned into him, and he sat on the bed, bringing you to sit on his lap. Your pink skirt fluffed up between you and he didn't bother to push it down.

"Was a masquerade, sweetheart," he kissed your nose. "Ain't nobody gonna recognize me there."

Giggling, you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head against his. "You swept me off my feet. The only dance partner I wanted."

"Couldn't let my mama's lessons go to waste," he murmured against your cheek. "They musta been mighty fine...got me in the princess's good graces."

You kissed him softly, just resting against him before remembering where you were. Standing up off his lap, you smoothed your skirts. "Billy, you really shouldn't be here-"

A knock sounded at the door. "Princess?"

It was one of your ladies-in-waiting. Your eyes were round like the crown jewels, and you quickly pulled Billy up, shoving him into your closet and closing the door. Holding yourself against it, you called. "Come in!"

She entered, a worried expression on her face. "Oh there you are. We were all so worried about you."

"What for?" you asked, giving her a toothy smile to disguise your anxiety.

"For what His Majesty said, of course," she reminded you, grasping your hands. "About you acquiring a husband?"

"Oh..." The thought had surprisingly exited your mind for the last little bit. Billy had that effect on you. "Yes... it will pass. This is hardly the first time they have spoken of marrying me off."

"I wouldn't be so sure, my lady," she said seriously. "They've been discussing it at length."

"Oh." It was all you could manage as worries clouded your mind again. "Yes. All will be well though. The prince of a nearby kingdom wishing to court me is no feat I cannot handle."

"My lady..." she squeezed your hand. "If you do not choose a husband they speak of your potential marriage to the king."

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears. The thought of marrying Nicholas of all people made your toes curl in your pink silk shoes. He was decades older, and the stark opposite of warm, comforting Billy. You shuddered slightly before shaking your head. "I will not marry the king. It will not come to that." Stretching your arms, you feigned exhaustion. "Excuse me, I must prepare for bed."

"Shall I send in your maid?" your lady-in-waiting inquired, looking concerned.

"No, no," you shook your head, fidgeting with your hands behind your back. "No, tonight I require solitude. Thank you."

After she left you opened the door of the closet, finding Billy sitting casually atop your flowered rug. He tipped his hat. "M'lady."

You smiled, shaking your head and crawling to sit between his spread legs. He secured an arm around you, a look of contemplation on his face. "They're wantin' ya to get married?"

"They have always wanted me to get married," you rolled your eyes. "Ever since I was a child it is all they spoke to me about. Every lesson was taught to me with that purpose."

"Hmm," he hummed, absentmindedly stroking your arm. "What if they're serious this time?"

"They are not," you assured him, leaning up to peck his lips. "I will not get married. Not to anybody of the court's choosing, anyways."

Billy didn't look convinced, but he seemed to let it slide. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he removed himself from around you and stood, offering you a hand. "C'mon. We're gonna go out."

"Out?" You used his hand to stand up. "Out where?"

"'s a surprise," he grinned, looking around the closet. Then he eyed your dress. "Might wanna change, honey."

"Something simple?" you questioned, looking up at him.

He nodded, reaching up to pluck the tiara from your head. "Might not wanna wear this either."

You giggled, pulling a simple white cotton dress with forget-me-nots embroidered on the collar. "Is this okay?"

Billy gave you a fond smile. "Perfect, sweetheart." He kissed your hair, setting the tiara back on the shelf.

The next few minutes found you standing beside your bed while Billy's nimble fingers swiftly undoing the delicate buttons on the back of your dress. He kissed your shoulder, sliding the sleeves over your arms and assisting you in stepping out.

There was a moment when you were just still, standing there in your half stay and looking over your shoulder at him softly. He had an awestruck look in his eyes as he simply took you in. "You're beautiful darlin'. Don't need me t' tell ya that."

"I like hearing it anyways," you murmured, reaching back for his hand and squeezing it.

He lifted your knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to them. "Let's getcha dressed."

Quickly you donned the white shift, pulling the pins out of your hair and removing all jewelry save for his necklace. Sliding your feet into a pair of plain black flats, Billy pronounced you, "Perfect as always, darlin'."

You managed to sneak out the way he'd come, climbing carefully down the stone and trellis. He quietly instructed you where to put your feet, where to grasp, and you were thankful for the darkness cloaking you from the view of anybody below.

Billy hauled you over the garden wall and got all the way over himself before lifting you down and pulling you by the hand to his horse. You were able to get on by yourself thanks to your many years of riding experience, and he climbed on behind you, grasping the reins with one hand and your waist with the other.

He kissed your temple, his fingers holding your waist tight. "Hold on darlin', it won't be too long a ride."

And with a nudge of his foot, the white stallion was spurred into a run, carrying you and your lover into the dark of what was unknown to you. Your trust in him cradled your insecurities, eyes peeled on the horizon for what was to come.

If music was the speech of angels, you must have been the very soul of the art.

Holding you right now, nestled in his arms through the bumpy horseback ride, Billy could hardly believe his luck. You were contently watching the scenery as he steered the horse in the right direction. He couldn't ever possibly forget that you were the princess, but right now you looked like a village girl (a pretty one) who wasn't mismatched with him.

Long accustomed to the unfairness of life, Billy was wholly unsure how he'd managed to charm you. He must have done something wonderful sometime to even get a chance. It was a funny thought, because Billy didn't think he did much at all.

He loathed the unfairness of the king's taxes, and so he took matters into his own hands. Robbing the wealthy was a childish way to get back, but it was his only way to fight back. He'd snuck into the palace on the night of a ball with a few of his men, sure the guards would be preoccupied with the festivities and not notice if they took a few trinkets.

Deemed the distraction, Billy had entered the ball masked like everyone else, enjoying the drinks. It had felt good not to be 'the outlaw' for awhile and just be him. He'd charmed several of the attendees easily, surprised to find himself enjoying their company.

And then he'd seen you. In a gown of white, you'd completely stunned him, nearly knocking him off his feet. He hadn't known you were the princess at first, speaking to you normally and making you laugh. You'd shared several dances, and you eventually pulled him off into a corner where the two of you could speak more privately.

When midnight struck, and it was announced that everyone should remove their masks, he'd been stunned to find the lovely face of a monarch beneath yours. You had been so different than he'd thought, so much warmer and kinder.

Before he could rush away, you removed his mask for him, recognition dawning in your eyes. You weren't stupid. You'd seen the wanted posters which, although crudely drawn, somewhat accurately depicted him. Billy had been expecting you to scream, or call for the guards, and he braced himself.

But instead, you leaned up, pressing the softest, sweetest kiss to his lips. He'd returned it without thinking, losing himself in the moment. When you pulled back, you refastened his mask over his eyes, giving him a final peck and slipping a folded piece of paper into his hand. "Hurry. Before they see you."

Stunned, Billy rushed from the room, only looking back once to see you still standing there, an absolute vision. When he was out of the castle gates he unfolded the scrap, squinting in the darkness to read what you'd written.

Two words. Write me.

He put his heart and soul into the letters, using a dove a man in his camp had trained to send them straight to your bedroom window. Your messages back were just as heartfelt, and your meetings even more so.

At night when he laid on his back attempting to sleep and staring at the stars, he'd feel an involuntary smile overcome him as he thought of you. His girl. His princess.

It was akin to how he felt now. Helping you off the horse and escorting you through the trees to where the annual village moonlit festival was being held. It was something of a secret amongst commoners, meaning there were no king's men present. Watching your eyes fill with wonder, he grinned, patting your hand nestled in the crook of his elbow. "Ya like it, darlin'?"

"It's so beautiful!" you exclaimed, bouncing adorably on the heels of your feet as you took in the lanterns, the music, the food. Just as he'd suspected, you'd never been to anything like this, not when you weren't playing the face of royalty. Here, you could be free.

And you were. Dragging him from place to place, your excitement was the best thing he'd ever beheld. Because he was so friendly with the villagers, they refused payment for everything, insisting everything he did for them was enough. Billy was slightly uncomfortable with that- he didn't consider himself a hero. But he knew they were trying to be kind, and so he humbled himself.

You barely let go of him the entire night, still retaining the refined manners of the way you had been raised, but excited none the less. You ate delicately, covering your mouth between bites as you spoke around your food about anything new you'd spotted. After eating, you dragged him up to the little area where couples were dancing.

He was reminded heavily of the night you'd met as he twirled you, keeping in time to the music. You were beautiful always, but especially so like this- unencumbered and delighted by everything surrounding you. Here you weren't looking over your shoulder every few minutes or forced to whisper. You were radiant, finally allowed to shine.

The villagers told him how lovely you were, squinting and trying to figure out why you looked so familiar. You didn't give any allusions to your title, chattering and smiling at everyone you met. Maybe it was the princess in you, but you seemed to charm everybody you came across. Billy was proud to have you on his arm and show you off.

When things began to wind down, Billy took you to a nearby, more private sector of the forest, resting on his side and holding your hand with your head sideways on his chest. You twirled a flower one of the children had given you between your fingers, a soft, lazy smile on your face.

Billy pressed a kiss to your head, holding his lips there. You turned to look at him, sweetly saying, "Thank you. For tonight."

"Was my pleasure, sweetheart. Truly," he promised, kissing your knuckles. "I love seein' ya like this. 'S like there's a weight off your shoulders."

You nodded, shifting to cuddle better against him. "It felt like there was."

Billy had a moment in quiet thought as he remembered what specifically had been weighing on you earlier. The conversation he'd overheard from your closet was still on his mind, one particular part constant.

Your lady-in-waiting had mentioned the possibility of you marrying the king if you didn't choose a suitor. The notion made Billy sick. Not only was the king decades older than you- he was a horrible man unfit to look at you. Tightening his arms around you, he tried to dissuade the thought.

You'd said nothing would come of it. And he trusted you. You were crafty in your own sweet way, and he knew a solution would come about.

Looking down at you all cozy in his arms, he let himself be distracted. You were his girl- his love. For some reason you returned his feelings in full. He'd be damned if he let anything happen to you.

Reluctantly, when the time came, he scooped you up and walked your sleepy form back to his horse, the ride back to the palace too short. You were roused enough to climb back over the wall and up to your bedroom window.

From his spot on the hill, Billy saw you wave at him, blowing a kiss. Your heart-shaped necklace glinted in the darkness.

As he rode back to camp, all he could think of was the thought of you being forced to marry somebody else- somebody who wasn't him. He knew he wasn't fit for you, but the princes who'd show up to court you couldn't be better. He'd observed them from afar- slimy, stuck-up men with more gold than thoughts. It was no wonder you'd turned them all away. And these were supposed to be the good ones. Now that the palace was on its last legs of getting you betrothed, who knew what low lives they'd pull from the dredges of nearby royalty?

Billy had the idea to show up and ask to court you himself, but it was dismissed as soon as it arrived. He hardly had anything to offer, let alone in appearance. Looking down at his worn clothes and muddied boots, he knew he'd be turned away. Not to mention the fact that he was an outlaw.

But the thought wouldn't stop prodding him, modifying itself to the point where Billy was convinced. He spurred his horse on, riding fast on the last stretch. There was a new determination in his movements.

With the idea brewing in his head, you’d never have to entertain the thought of another prince again.

Previous Part | Next Part

[anarchywoofwoof]

i'm running low on political takes, but i have one more regarding an important topic.

for everyone who is talking about the climate and dooming regarding the future of a world where we won't stay below 2C, i really need you to understand that was never going to happen anyway.

rather than try to explain it myself, below is a comment from reddit that mirrors my thoughts and expertly breaks down the timeline over the last 4 years with sources and dates. long post below.

I see that it is once again time to remind partisans, apologists, and deniers in this subreddit that they should not blame leftists, immigrants, young folks, disengaged folks, migrants, or whatever outgroup. Place the blame solely on the party that was supposed to run Joe as a one-timer in the name of stability before ponying up a progressive leader. Instead they spent four years jerking off fossil fuel companies. By laser focusing your attention of identity politics - intersectionality without critical analysis esp class struggle - they accomplish ghoulish feats such as drastically expanding fossil fuel extraction and juicing the military industrial complex. No, the democrats aren't better or even less bad with respect to the environment.

Somehow, absurdly, this timeline has produced a political party that denies climate change, but through their own ineptitude is less accomplished at greasing the wheels of business. On the other hand, the party that softly acknowledges climate change has produced outcomes that are significantly, horrifically, catastrophically worse for the environment. Biden's presidency saw massive fossil fuel expansion despite his explicit promise not to. Harris promised to continue that and expand fracking. Please read below links carefully and ask yourself what job you're going to do in very near future economy: soldier or field laborer

2020

Aug 6 - While campaigning for the presidency, Joe Biden promises to ban the expansion of fossil fuel exploitation on federal lands as part of his $1.7 trillion climate plan. "This plan will commit money towards renewable infrastructure development and tax incentives for individuals and industry while establishing governmental agencies tasked with battling climate change."

2021

Jan 20 - Biden takes office

May 11 - At Cop 26, Biden promises to transition out of fossil fuels, calls climate change an existential threat to humanity.

Aug 30 - Biden admin to resume drilling auctions, immediately reversing campaign promises and dealing a huge setback for climate activists.

2022

Jan - Biden administration approved 3,557 permits for oil and gas drilling on public lands in its first year

Feb - Russia invades Ukraine

April 27 - US Energy Dept approves increased LNG shipments from terminals in Texas and Louisiana.

March 22 WH Nat Sec Advisor Jake Sullivan announces plans to boost and redirect LNG to Europe in response to Russian invasion

US energy Sec J Granhol announces significant increase in domestic oil and gas extraction.

Aug 16 - Biden Signs IRA $18bn over ~10y which includes preventing leasing any federal waters offshore to wind until first making 60 million acres available for oil and gas. WHAT.

Aug 16 Federal government resurrected two previously canceled sales to meet this requirement. Go IRA?

Oct 1 - Biden admin & US Army Corps of Eng approves repair & restart of CA pipeline which caused disastrous Huntington Beach incident.

Dec 14 - US Energy Dept changes carbon capture budget to now be inclusive of fossil fuel ‘enhanced oil recovery’ at request of Manchin, Sinema

2023

Jan 24 - Biden admin approves 6,430 permits for oil and gas drilling

Mar 29 - Biden admin auctions 1.6 million acres of gulf lease to fossil fuel companies

May 12 - Biden breaks G7 promise, approves $100m financing for Indonesian oil refinery

Mar 13 - Biden admin approves controversial Willow drilling project. The project (extraction period) will span 30 years , pump 600 million barrels of oil, and produce 258 million mm/t CO2 into the atmosphere. Equiv of ~57mm cars, this damage outpaces all our other climate promises and actions twice over

April 14 - Biden admin approves exports of LNG from Alaska LNG pipeline. It is being framed as a competitive move against Russian LNG due to the war in Ukraine (Europe’s dependence on Russian LNG)

May 24 - BLM land auction in New Mex, Okla, Kansas. (still researching details, cannot find PR)

May 25 - SCOTUS rules against EPA regarding definition of ‘wetlands’, limiting EPA authority in key locations

Jun 26 - BLM oil and gas lease in NoDak nets $2.4m (19 parcels ~8061 acres)

Jun 29 - Biden admin leases over 100k acres of federal land in Wyoming for fossil fuel exploitation

Jul 27 - US DoI issues rejection of calls to phase out fossil fuel use on public lands

Jul 27 - SCOTUS rules in favor of Mountain Valley Pipeline. Project moves forward

History of MVP issue:

Apr 21 - Biden Sec Energy sends letter to court in favor of MVP

May 16 - Biden admin grants key permit for MVP

May 30 - WH officials frame the MVP deal as inevitable, washing their hands of blame despite vigorous efforts moving the project forward.

June 2 - Senate passes debt ceiling deal, inc MVP approval

Jul 21 - US Solicitor Gen (DoJ) files amicus brief in support of MVP

(End of MVP)

Sept 20 - Biden launches Climate Corps

Sept - Biden to skip UN climate summit

To be continued ...

Hot take / Summary

Using the war in Ukraine as an excuse, Biden WH does a complete 180 on environmental campaign promises, becoming an extremelly pro-oil admin

A conservative scotus came in hot with TWO wins for a liberal administration contending with leftists activists and lawers.

A dysfunctional and gridlocked congress was unable to pass meaningful legislation, watering down key portions of the IRA

The emissions from ONE single project (2023 willow pipe, above) will outpace ALL of our other climate pledges by 200%, rendering them pointless/performative.

The items outlined also present a disturbing example of the executive abusing congress and the judiciary, resulting in three branches that collude together rather than operate as checks and balances.

[shiny-jr]

pardon my late message i've been letting letting the current damnation chapters sink in the past couple of days after finally taking the quiz (im am still waiting with baited breath but like in a chill way for the rest) but HOLY. MOLY.

i did indeed notice that the MC's have different morality stances, and they match their crimes (granted im still trying to figure out which one did what. cuz rn i got stuck on iago coming fraud or tax evasion, even though theyre super down with murder, but like raven is WAY more down to murder somebody. im just nit paying enough attention to figure it out, really. im having too much fun vibin)

2 THE WAY THE CHARACTERS MAY NOT START OUT ENTIRELY YANDERE FOR THE MC AND INSTEAD DEVELOP THE OBSESSION FOR THEM LATER ON 🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌😭😭😭😭😭 BRILLIANTBRILLIANTBRILLIANT. ok so i got heartslabyul on my first attempt so it wasnt as like "obvious" even though trey and cater are both instantly "shocked" i was like "that could just be bc our character is weird it doesnt necessarily mean they yandere switch has been flipped pshaw! 🤭" BUT THEN eventually i got to pomfiore and epel confirmed it when he was like "ive been imagining things i never did before!" and i was like "oh snap! WAIT is *THIS* part of the punishment? like not JUST being sent to another world that is based on a story, but specifically a YANDERE DEATH TRAP? 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯"

cuz like, sure, the MC is doing what they can to survive but depending on which one theyre fine to just vibe and let the story take its course if theyve got a good chance to survive not doing anything special. but then the story always gets WEIRD, RIGHT?! stuff always goes wrong! was that part of the vision? or am i going conspiracy crazy?

anyway AMAZING WORK. also you really fed the vil simps on that one story. i thought i was over him and content to be like rook and admire from afar but that SCENE with his hands wrapped around the retainer 🥵 i darn near short-circuited. HOW DARE YOU! (please continue 😉)

its hard to choose a favorite story in this series and i dont want to speak too soon before theyre all out. but i do have favorite bits in each of them.

and i just love the endings to them all. i love the bittersweet nature of all the endings. like none, of them are really romantic in a comforting way (duh its a yandere story) but they do vary in romance level. like by far i think riddle's azul's and vil's are the most romantic while leona and jamil are quite cold and calculating or in jamil's case mostly possessive and manipulative on the surface. it's VERY interesting.

and also bc im silly and you brought up the yandere-ness of the other characters, i start to wonder what happens next in these stories (im not asking for sequels. oh heavens no! never! unless you wanted to, but im mostly just brainstorming character relationships and potential conflicts). like in the savannaclaw story, ruggie and jack are also glued to the MC but not in a really romantic way? ruggie has that "i want to be your #2/by your side forever" which could go either way, but to me initially reads as "jack was pushing his way into MY spot and i want to guarantee he cant have it" rather than a "one day i'll deserve to be by your side romantically and for now i want to ensure i'll always have that opportunity by being next to you and a priority of yours" and then comes leona's proposal at the end, and i was thinking "uhhh but mc is by your side as consort, then ruggie gets pushed out of his spot in favor of the husband taking over. even though ruggie could still be an advisor and confidant, its still like 'move over dude theres another taking priority over you" and then that gets me wondering "what would happen if MC turned down leona? what kinda havoc would he wreak if any? does that put the village in jeopardy if he gets pissed off? what if they accept and they're STILL screwed bc he stops paying attention to the village after he gets the throne? and then the chieftain is taken into the palace and away from the village and has no way back and theyre left to basically flounder without them?"

also i really like how you end your stories with pseudo-cliffhangers? i mean they are but also the plot is mostly resolved and whatever major things that needed to happen happened. and its just the character resolutions and epilogues you dont see. its entertaining. like i said, i like to imagine what happens next and you really leave some stuff open for that.

anyway! thank you so much for sharing your stories!

Oh, for the crimes, just look at one of the questions which I believe asks what you (the quiz taker/MC) committed. Those are currently five of the seven crimes I've listed before, and each MC has committed at least ONE of them. But, they could've always committed more too.

On that other topic, of characters going yandere, one thing I hate is when reading a story and for some reason the characters are already obsessed with the MC but for absolutely no apparent reason. And me personally, I enjoy a bit of build up, which is why I try to implement some in my writing. Which can be a bit hard to do within forty pages when all these other things are happening, but I manage for the most part.

[muffinlance]

Shaw reeeeally want to eat the earth kings bear. It’s so exotic and he’s never tried one before. Just a nibble, maybe a haunch, then he’ll know if it tastes like orca-bear or weasel-bear.

(Continued from parts one and two.)

Kuei is, in the understated words of one of his earliest tutors, feeling mildly out of his geological stratum. 

There was a war. There was a war for his entire life, for his father’s and his grandfather’s. He is only learning of it now, because it is over, and his signature is required on the official documents. 

(At least they didn’t just take his royal seal and stamp it themselves.)

The young king has many questions. Mostly about his own court, and which of his advisors are truly trustworthy.

(And which would find for him a less pleasant oubliette, if he tried to rattle his palace’s bars.)

“The Fire Lord will enter through the eastern doors,” an etiquette tutor he’s never seen before instructs him. “You will stand for him, but not bow. His dragons have been instructed to enter behind him, but in practice, will do as they please. Or as he has ordered them. They are an intimidation tactic; do not acknowledge them. The terms have already been agreed upon. Place your stamp where indicated. If he inclines his head, you may return the gesture…”

It would be a significant amount of information to remember, had it not sifted down to “your presence was not required before, and is only ceremonial now.”

Kuei stands when the Fire Lord enters. His fellow monarch is young, but so is Kuei. The boy comes flanked with his own cadre of old men. Perhaps this is just what it’s like, being a king. 

And then the dragons enter, which rather puts into perspective why this meeting is occuring in the grand ballroom, rather than a more usual diplomatic location. They are… very impressive specimens. The old men behind Kuei stiffen at the sight of them. The ones near the Fire Lord have to actively dodge, with a rumpling of robes and dignity alike, as the great serpents claim their place at the boy’s sides. 

And then they keep coming forward, coils of them thick around as particularly rotund badgermoles, and Kuei’s advisors follow the example set by their peers. Which is to say: Kuei is suddenly rather alone at the table, with two great heads crossing paths behind him. They pause like that, for a moment, before moving on. There is enough of them to wrap back around to their Fire Lord’s side, even as they remain looped behind Kuei. 

Yes. Yes, he could see why this would be an effective intimidation tactic.

The Fire Lord looks at the chair he’s been provided. Then down the length of the great table, to where Kuei would sit. There would have been servants to carry the papers between them, but… well. They are probably not going to risk scaling the dragon’s sides. The Fire Lord huffs, and walks to the chair to the left of Kuei’s, before setting down a pile of scrolls.

They let him carry important documents himself. That must be nice. 

“Have you had time to read the final draft?” the Fire Lord asks, his chair scraping against stone as he pulls it out. He sits, and looks to Kuei expectantly.

Do not speak to him, says the voice of the tutor in Kuei’s memory. He is the violent offspring of an upstart island; you are the rightful inheritor of a continent. You bow to him on paper only.

“I… have not,” Kuei admits, and takes his own seat. 

“Neither have I,” says the boy. “We should probably make sure the copies match, too. My advisors kept telling me not to worry about it, which is probably a reason to worry about it.”

So they unroll two copies of the finest calligraphy, and push their chairs close, and get down to reading. It is not an exaggeration to say that Kuei has spent his whole life practicing for this.

“This map cannot be accurate,” Kuei says.

“It… looks okay to me?”

“This is nearly two-thirds of our western fishing ports, nevermind the river transport routes, whose ‘tax rates and availability to outside use shall be at the discretion of the Fire Lord’?”

“That’s where my people live.”

“Then where did my people go?”

“Uh,” says the Fire Lord. Who is actually quite significantly younger than Kuei.

“...Did your advisors hand you papers to sign, too?”

“They said you’d already agreed.”

Kuei’s own advisors had implied they’d all be eaten by dragons should he refuse to sign, so. That was certainly a form of agreement. 

One of the Fire Lord’s very intimidating serpents has laid its great head down across most of their table, and appears to have fallen asleep. The other is… scenting the air? Well. That's mildly alarming. It coils its neck back, to the limit the high ceiling allows, and stares down at something outside its coils. 

Which is the point Kuei hears the whuffing of his bear cub. Which his advisors had very firmly told him could not be at this meeting, so little Bosco had been left in a garden with servants for attendants, but so many people are as afraid of a simple bear cub as they are of these great beasts of dragons, so it was no surprise he’d escaped to find the one person who really cared—

“Spit it out!” shouts the Fire Lord. “Spit it out!”

Kuei is not entirely certain how he ends up with his arms inside a dragon’s maw, his formal hairpiece being dripped upon by hot saliva fresh from a fang. But at least he's not the only monarch to be in such a state. 

The dragon’s great size is, in retrospect, a blessing: a little morsel like Bosco had not required chewing. The bear shakes in his arms, but Kuei’s combing through wet fur had not turned up a scratch upon him. 

“That is,” says the Fire Lord, looking up. And up further. Until he finds Bosco’s trembling muzzle, pressed against the top of Kuei’s head, “a really big… bear-otter?”

“He’s just a bear,” sniffles Kuei, hugging his poor baby back, if not quite so heartily as Bosco is hugging him. “A little cub. How could your dragon do such a thing?”

“Uh,” says the Fire Lord. “Shaw… apologizes?”

The dragon does not look at all apologetic. It's nuzzling the Fire Lord’s back, in a way Kuei himself recognizes from a hundred objects pulled from a baby bear’s inquisitive mouth. But father, can’t I eat it? Please?

“We,” Kuei says, his chin lifted haughtily, “are going to refresh ourselves in the royal chambers. You are welcome to the guest baths. And then we are going to sit down with a real map.” 

Not whatever fanciful one the Fire Lord’s advisors have concocted. 

“Fine,” the boy snaps back. 

When they meet again, an hour later, both are free of the sulfurous stench of dragon spit. And both have brought their own maps, of the Fire Nation’s current military occupation.

Kuei does not sign until his people have free access to their own resources again. If slightly less land than they began with. As he is not eaten by a dragon for his troubles, he sets his sights upon his advisors, next.

(Read more prompts || Longer ATLA fics || Original works)

[a-big-chicken-nerd]

i always imagined the way the forbidden scroll works was it like put artificial ideas and thoughts of assurance and self-righteousness in ur noggin that were indistinguishable from ur own regular thoughts. like it doesnt Talk To You it Influences You from the inside out

anyway ice emperor doesnt know what his own scepter is he has noo idea it messes with ur head at all. imagine if it made him think of something upsetting to him and he didnt know those thoughts werent even his haha would that be messed up or what

A pack of hostile wolves had been reported to have grown defensive of their territory surrounding a lake, one that was an important staple to one of the fisher villages. Several villagers had been attacked and injured by the beasts.

“It is my advice to you that you should send a few of your ice samurai to deal with the creatures there before any more harm is done,” Vex stated conclusively. 

It had taken the Emperor’s advisor several minutes to reach the point, among a decently long list of other happenings and concerns from his kingdom. The Emperor hardly minded Vex’s detailed long-windedness, though. The words were something clear, concise, and trustworthy to the cluttered fogginess of his own mind. 

“Send them then,” the Emperor agreed.

“It will be done as you command,” Vex nodded, unrolling the scroll he was reading from a bit further and moving on to the next point.

Vex was an excellent advisor. He could always be trusted to be on top of things regarding the well being of the kingdom. He would stand to the right of the throne and come up with the most efficient solutions to any issues, and the Emperor wouldn’t have to doubt them for a moment. The Emperor should get rid of Vex.

…

What? That last thought caused the Emperor to pause. Where did such an idea come from? He needed Vex.

Disturbed by his own thoughts, the Emperor refocused on Vex, who was still talking; halfway through a discussion about taxes now. There was no issue regarding them, it was simply a report for this period.

Perhaps he needed Vex too much. When was the last time the Emperor had bothered to gather information on his own kingdom? Or command action without blindly following Vex’s judgment?

It was because Vex’s judgment was always solid and his intel always thorough and trustworthy, that’s what made him such a good advisor.

But was he really just an advisor if he was the one truly running the show?

The Emperor closed his eyes. Taxes, taxes. Vex was talking to him, he needed to pay attention. He could trust Vex’s words.

What if Vex was deceptive in his intentions, and really he was just using the Emperor for his power? He should be punished for his deceit.

That wasn’t true, though. He didn’t believe that, he didn’t want to do that. Vex was his trusted advisor and friend.

Was that actually true? Or was that just what was easiest to believe? The advisor could not be trusted. Be rid of him.

The Emperor gripped his scepter, tilting it away from Vex as if it would give in to the impulsive thoughts on its own and do something regrettable. The tighter he held it, the louder the thoughts seemed to grow.

Be rid of him. Be rid of him. Be rid of him.

“My Emperor?”

The Emperor blinked and realized Vex’s concerned eyes were watching him, scroll rolled up and forgotten. In the same moment he noticed liquid pooling on the edge of his mask, and beginning to run down the front. He wiped the stuff away and it stained his glove a darker shade. His tears were strange that way; water would freeze far before it could come anywhere near his palace. Whatever he cried wasn’t water.

He should just kill that liar now and take back your kingdom. He should, even if it would pain him to do so.

“What troubles you?” Vex spoke again, softly.

Freeze him freeze him freeze him

Clutching his scepter as close as he could and doing his best to shrink away deeper into his throne (as unbefitting of an action as it was for a royal), he closed his eyes tight and hid them behind his glove. He growled out a sigh that did nothing to release the tension in his chest.

“Leave me, Vex,” the Emperor finally commanded.

There was a pause.

“Are you sure? I may be of assistance with whatever disturbs you.”

And now he questions your word. He cannot be trusted. Destroy him.

“You heard me,” the Emperor snapped shortly.

Another long pause before Vex finally responded with a simple “as you command, my Lord.” The throneroom sound doors closing behind him as he left echoed around the now empty room.

[tomorrowusa]

Donald Trump has a gag order placed on him by the judge in his Stormy Daniels hush money trial. So to get around the gag order various Trump lickspittles make pilgrimages to the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse to say stuff to the media which Trump himself is not allowed to say. Past Trump mouthpieces have included pseudo-hillbilly fascist Sen. J.D. Vance and House Speaker "MAGA Mike" Johnson.

Monday's Trump mouthpieces were a quintet of MAGA C-listers: Rep. Andrew Clyde (R-GA-09), ex-NYC police commissioner Bernie Kerik, South Carolina Attorney General Alan Wilson, Trump campaign aide Jason Miller (not related to Stephen Miller), and Kash Patel - a onetime deputy director of the Office of the Director of National Intelligence.

While Trump has been beseeching his followers to show up outside the courthouse to demonstrate support for their Dear Leader, on Monday it was pro-democracy Trump opponents who were there in greater numbers.

A cadre of MAGA loyalists who had gathered to show their support for Donald Trump during his hush-money trial was shouted down by a bevy of cowbell-clanging anti-Trump protesters on Monday when they tried to speak outside of a lower Manhattan courthouse. [ ... ] The group that flanked the twice-impeached ex-president this time around included South Carolina Attorney General Alan Wilson, former New York police commissioner Bernie Kerik, ex-Trump administration official Kash Patel, Trump senior advisor Jason Miller, and Rep. Andrew Clyde (R-GA). All but Patel, meanwhile, were customarily decked out in Trump’s standard red tie and navy suit combo.

Yep, four of the five designated Trump lickspittles were dressed in Trump uniforms. Did he dress them himself over at Trump Tower?

Alan Wilson got an earful when he tried to spew the Trump line.

With boos raining down on Wilson, one demonstrator could be heard shouting “go home you carpetbagging fools.” Another protester who camped out behind the pro-Trump speakers with a large “Bootlickers” sign relentlessly blew a whistle while ringing a cowbell. According to independent reporter Jacqueline Sweet, the man was given a citation by law enforcement for “too much cowbell.” Patel, who is expected to take a senior White House role if Trump returns to power, portrayed the ex-president as a victim of an “unconstitutional weaponization of justice.” It was difficult to hear what he had to say as the crowd chanted: “Kash Patel, Go To Hell!” Kerik was also subjected to targeted insults when he spoke, with protesters calling him a “bald-headed bigot” throughout his comments. According to New York Magazine correspondent Oliva Nuzzi, the Trump-hating crowd also took aim at the speakers for dressing just like the former president, prompting them to call the MAGA group “red tie terrorists.” She added that the demonstrators even got a laugh from Miller, who chuckled when one protester wondered if they had bought their suits at “Dictators R Us.”

To use a favorite Trump word, Monday's Trump mouthpieces were real losers.

Rep. Andrew Clyde's rise to fame in Georgia was as a prominent gun store owner. One wonders how many of his guns make it up to NYC to be used illegally.

Bernie Kerik is a convicted felon for tax fraud who was later pardoned by Trump. He served several years behind bars for his crimes.

Alan Wilson has made false election fraud claims even before the Trump presidency and is a serial litigator for far right causes.

Kash Patel once served as an aide to Devin Nunes – the former House member who unsuccessfully sued a cartoon cow.

Jason Miller admitted to hiring prostitutes and having extramarital affairs with two campaign staffers. Republican family values – just like Trump.

Meidas Touch has a video report on Monday's scene outside the courthouse. (never mind the plant commercial in the middle).

If you're anywhere near NYC, visit the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse area on a day that the hush money trial is in session. There's a lunch break starting roughly at 11:30 AM and court is recessed for the day in the afternoon before the building closes at 5:00 PM. Bring your own cow bell and sign.

Court is in session this week on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. Next Monday court is closed for Memorial Day but should be in session on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. The case may go to the jury sometime late next week.

The Manhattan courthouse is at 100 Centre Street; take the 4, 5, or 6 subway trains to the Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall station and walk about four blocks north. The crowds and the Trump bootlickers seem to be directly across the street from the courthouse at Collect Pond Park.

EDIT: If Trump toadies had a bad day outside the courtroom, the one and only defense witness for Trump seems to have had an even worse one in court.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Red Mountain Waffle House, pt. 18

To Dagoth Ur, Lord of the Sixth House, Harbinger of corprus and blight, the Sharmat,

Consider this a warning. I will be in touch with further demands but for now, there is only one: Keep your Sleepers out of my capital.

There was no signature, but given the short letter was closed with the royal seal, it was obvious from whom the note came. Two things were wrapped inside its folds, a wrinkled picture of Sadara seated between Barenziah and Almalexia at some event or the other, and a lock of white hair.

"How DARE he," Nerevar said, "This is--she likely thought Barenziah was a safe person to be around, but..."

"But even if she was, her son certainly isn't." Morvani was the one to speak now. "And your former wife even less so!"

The chunk of her bone she was attached to had been enshrined near the Heart of Lorkhan, which seemed to bolster her strength. She had taken it upon herself to act as Lady Dagoth, saying Voryn clearly needed help, which he had accepted readily. For all his power he knew his mother played the game between Great Houses well, and would be a wonderful advisor. It would also be handy to have her around when Sadara returned...

If she returns, Nerevar thought in a dark moment. He didn't share the thought with anyone. It wasn't only that he feared Helseth would end her, it was also that he doubted she would wish to return after...everything. Ayem could sniff out an advantage anywhere, surely she'd see one here too...and exploit it. Or...

"We've got to get her out of there. If not because of Helseth, then because of Ayem," Nerevar spoke up. "Whatever overtures she might be making, I can only assume this will end with a dagger in Sadara's back."

"Voryn's wife is intelligent enough to distrust such things, I think, even if she pretends otherwise," Morvani said, "But she seemed to react poorly when I mentioned you...so Ayem may find it easier than you think to plant mistrust of others in her head."

"She was told Voryn wanted me rather than her, and she's been pinned as my incarnate for a while now, of course she hates mention of me." Nerevar groaned. "She hasn't responded to any messages, either."

In such despairing talk did several minutes pass. Morvani finally spoke up with something more hopeful.

"And once you have retrieved her, what then? How will you convince her to return?"

"Well--with the ring, I can do anything." Nerevar's voice shook a little as he spoke, but he went on more confidently.

"You can't simply kidnap a woman," Morvani said, "We aren't brutish nords who practice wife-stealing."

"Well it's not stealing if--"

"THAT SON OF AN IMPERIAL WHORE!"

A sudden shout came from the next room, and when Voryn walked in, they both noticed his wristbands were in ashes. He'd already seen Helseth's threatening letter, and that had angered him - but this extra fury seemed new.

"What's wrong?"

The several pages in his hand were thrust into Nerevar's, who quickly looked over them.

"Voryn...what--these are annulment papers!"

"Go and get her. I don't care what you have to do - get her out of Mournhold and back here before he does something worse."

"Of course," Nerevar said, "Of course. And Voryn--it'll be fine. I'll make sure nothing happens."

"And if you have to kill the bastard to do it, so much the better. Part of the Empire or not, we don't need the future lady of the house under the power of an imperial bootlicker." Morvani half-snarled.

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

Sadara was given the same papers by some kind of court clerk as she was out retrieving another box of Black Marsh cigars for Barenziah, and didn't read them until she was back in her own room.

For a few minutes she hesitated to do so, tried to remember if she'd fucked up her taxes somehow. Maybe the ordinator who'd lost his hand was suing her? Or...

With a deep breath she opened the legal envelope and looked at the papers.

APPROVAL OF MARITAL ANNULMENT

She was confused first - she definitely didn't remember filing for annulment yet. Something had held her back, though she had given the outward excuse of the inconvenience of going down to a courthouse to file, or figuring out what the fees for it were, or the matter of divorce, or...

It left a hollow feeling in her chest. This issue that had brought her so much trouble over the past weeks was now settled. The marriage she hadn't even had the sobriety to enjoy directly afterwards, the marriage that House Dagoth was so against - was ended. How it had been managed without her even initiating it she didn't know, the court clerk probably wouldn't have either. She'd go down to the court later and ask a few questions...maybe she'd just forgotten doing it. A lot of what she'd done lately was done in a haze, like she was sleepwalking through it automatically.

She was a single woman once again.

"Good," she said softly, under her breath, not feeling it at all. It WAS good, so why did this feel wrong?

Nerevar, Sadara thought next. It had to be Nerevar's influence on her. He was so infatuated with Voryn--Dagoth Ur, her mind corrected. She had the brief thought of re-downloading Morrowtwitter and messaging him again, but decided against it. That wouldn't do anything but pain her; probably there was already an announcement of Nerevar's engagement, and she didn't feel ready to see that.

It wasn't perfect in Mournhold, but it was better than being constantly broke. She had a place to live she didn't have to pay for, and was making enough she didn't have to really worry. She'd been able to get a lute and start practicing, too, and she'd always wanted one of those.

Maybe, she thought, having something to mindlessly practice would help this ache in her chest.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Death and the Afterlife #2

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Dying/Pre-Judgement | Judgements | Afterlives [WIP]

Judgements, not necessarily just Kelemvor's job: • "Go back and try again" • The False • The Faithless • The Faithfull • Why resurrection has a time limit.

So there are two schools of approach to this. We have lore where Kelemvor and the Fugue are the be-all and end-all of the beginning of the afterlife.

And then we have "that's Kelemvorite propaganda", "Kelemvor cannot actually manage to judge all of those souls, god or no", and all the death gods judge their own people:

"The time requirements of stewardship over the dead tax even [the gods of the dead], however, and [social] visits [between them] are rare." - Faiths and Pantheons

The Prince of Lies novel also stated that Cyric had no jurisdiction over demihuman souls, and he resented non-humans for it.

"Kelemvor’s clergy will tell you that Kelemvor governs the fate of all souls. However, this is (honestly believed by those who say it) church propaganda. In other words, it isn’t true; the truth is that Kelemvor can’t even keep up with judging all Faerûnian pantheon-worshipping human souls. "So, yes, the souls of nonhuman beings go to other judges and judgments, some souls get lost and “wander,” and humans who worship the Mulhorandi pantheon or other deities not of Toril encounter other judges. It seems to vary on a case-by-case basis, which really means mortals are struggling to understand the afterlife, and various faiths are attempting to provide answers which likely have more to do with reassurance and doctrine than reality." - Ed Greenwood

So if he's calling in the other death gods to handle their own people (presumably according to the standards of their own pantheons):

Sehanine Moonbow, who begins to call to elves in their reveries as they reach the end of their life, summoning them to Arvandor. -

Urogalan, the halfling guardian of the dead and Yondalla's judge and advisor. He collects the souls of dead halflings and takes them to his realm, where he sorts them out and assigns them their appropriate afterlives. -

Segojan Earthcaller is the gnomish god of the dead. -

Dumathoin is the dwarven protector of the dead. -

The Mulhorandi are literal Ancient Egyptians, although there's been some cultural divergence. Osiris judges the souls of the dead alone, and there's no mention of the weighing of the heart and such. -

Chultans believe that at the end of the maze that is life, they will exit that maze and stand before Ubtao, who will ask them to draw the map of the maze they walked. If they do it correctly, they are welcomed into the gods home to live with him in paradise. If they get it wrong they are cast out back to Toril, to wander the earth as ghosts and ghouls. (The Tabaxi - a human tribe, not the cat people - often doodle these metaphorical life mazes throughout their lives as practice and contemplation) -

I'm not sure who handles the drow, because none of the Dark Seldarine are going to tolerate any of the rest of the pantheon going anywhere near their followers' souls. Eilistraee tends to pick her followers up personally anyway. -

Null is the death god of the draconic pantheon. if you worship Tiamat you probably know him as Faluzure, the Reaver (who blesses those who have taken the most lives) and if you favour Bahamut then you probably know him as Chronepsis, the Guardian of the Lost, who guides souls to the Dragon Eyrie where they will be protected and no longer troubled by enemies and in-fighting. -

Yurtrus is the orcish god of the dead

Some souls may also have unexpected judgements:

“Kelemvor himself has been known to (for unknown reasons) pluck certain souls away from the usual fates of his judgments, to serve him. Often they end up sent back into mortal life on missions, often in bodies of a different race and/or gender than that of their previous life.” - Ed Greenwood

So, the Judgements:

Being sent back to Toril: The gods may restore a soul back to its original body.

“Sometimes, the being’s own desires or the will of a deity cause it to be ‘sent back’ to life, or stuck in undeath (e.g. a revenant) to take care of unfinished life business.”

These people have a sense about them that is noticeable to the supernaturally attuned, especially divine spellcasters and the zealous. A being is usually returned when a deity still has need of the soul's service in the mortal world. Most of the death gods don't care very much for deities creating undead this way, but what one or a few gods think of things historically matters very little as far as godly rules go. This also happens in the case of “disputes” – due to Toril being a polytheistic setting where everybody worships the entire pantheon, sometimes more than one deity has an equal claim on a soul. Usually people have a single patron god, but occasionally they have more, or happened to live their lives in line with the doctrine and aims of a different deity giving that god grounds to claim the soul suits them better. In this case the soul is resurrected and will be tested and watched carefully to see which god they’re the best match for. Some deities will also go for more traditional reincarnation, and the soul will be reborn as an infant with a new life, such as the Companions of the Hall, who were given the option to move on or be reborn again. Some physical traits and subconscious memories may carry over to the next life, and I think there are cases of people recalling who they used to be. ---

Being judged False The False are those who have made a commitment to a deity (clergy, chosen, paladins, etc), but then deliberately betrayed their god and their teachings and so the god either will or can not claim them. As they have nowhere to go, the False remain on the Fugue plane serving their sentence in the City of Justice. Their punishment is determined by how severely they have betrayed their god: it may range from horrific eternal torture that would kill a living person, to minor punishments like having menial tasks assigned to them like serving as guides or servants for beings they hate. The sentence is usually eternal, however occasionally it’s a temporary sentence and eventually “a deity” sends servants to recover the soul for resurrection and another chance at life. It isn’t specified whether this deity is the one they betrayed, or if it's a different god that has a claim on the soul but had to postpone this claim until that soul had finished serving their punishment for their broken oath. ---

Being judged Faithless The Faithless did not worship any gods and actively reject and shun them all. Some of them flat out refuse to acknowledge that the gods exist, or claim that the gods are simply powerful beings pretending at divinity (which most of the population of Toril views the same way most people view flat earthers.) If forced to pray, they went through the motions but nothing more.

Some of them are Faithless because they did not further any god’s aim in life, which is impressive: “Many gods consider mortal deeds to be worship, even if the mortal didn't intend them so.” So never trying to do anything with your life, never actually doing more than lip-service to living by, supporting and furthering morals, values and ethics you claim to care about, whatever they are, I guess. Or being so apathetic you don't bother to form any opinions or feelings on anything. In your entire life. Parents in the Realms will have their newborns blessed by priests as soon as possible and give them toys featuring the holy symbols of one of the gods in the hopes of getting them attached to it (so stuffed animals in the shape of the god’s sacred animal/s, surrounding them with certain colours and symbols etc). For an infant, lacking much comprehension of the world, these things count as being faithful.

Deathbed conversions are also valid - petitioning a god just before expiring, assuming your life choices and desires/beliefs are compatible with the deity you are petitioning, will allow them to claim your soul. Traditionally the sentence is for Faithless souls to be mortared into a wall of screaming souls (the Wall of the Faithless), where their identity is slowly and tortuously dissolved until they are absorbed into the structure and cease to exist. Faithlessness and hubris ran rampant amongst ancient empires such as the Netherese and Imaskari, who probably make up large chunks of the Wall. Myrkul came up with it during his tenure as Lord of the Dead (While controversial amongst fans, this is actually far from the worst fate one can meet in the afterlife imo.) Furthermore, demons occasionally invade from the Abyss and forcibly tear souls from the wall en-masse to take back to the Abyss. If the stolen soul was one that was of interest to a deity – who for whatever reason couldn’t claim it in judgement – they will send their servants to intercept the demon and fight it for the soul. There is talk of the Wall having been removed in 5e, but the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide still mentions it being there. ---

Being collected by your deity Being handed over to their deity, who takes them back to their home plane. Generally this is the patron deity, the deity the mortal worships most out of the pantheon and/or whose worldview, drive, ethics and etc they themselves align best with as a person.

The Fugue plane has connections to the divine realms of every god on Toril, and deities send one of their servants - celestials, fiends, undead, other petitioners - to the City of Judgement to wait for the soul and bring it to their domain.

Petitioners, by default, have no memory of their past lives and lack true individuality unless a deity intervenes to maintain their identity. Or identities, if they've been subject to reincarnation and lived more than one lifetime: elven spirits, for example, consciously maintain knowledge of all the lives they've lived while in Arvandor.

From there are a few fates, the specifics of which depend on the god:

Petitioners, without intervention, slowly lose their identity as they are continually assimilated into the plane itself and are absorbed.

Some petitioners just live in their deity's realm forever, I guess.

Some petitioners are absorbed into their deity's divine essence (I don't know whether they have any consciousness or sense-of-self within the god; if they're anything like the Bhaalspawn situation, then they are.)

Gods may convert the mortal soul into another being: fiends, celestials and etc.

Sometimes they eventually send them back to Toril to be reincarnated into a new life, or to serve certain tasks as undead.

The many ways a soul can be lost is part of the reason resurrection spells come with time limits.

"A successful resurrection heals a brain and a body, and the soul and animating spirit return to the body, the spirit linking brain and soul together to the body and “life as before” is back again."

For a successful resurrection the body (especially the brain) must exist and not be too heavily damaged (not a requirement for true resurrection) and the soul must still exist as an independent entity to be recovered. The longer a soul is gone, the higher the chance it is no longer a mortal soul, or has lost its individuality. Both the soul and the deity must also consent to the soul returning.

A resurrected person has no memory of the afterlife, or anything that happened to them from the moment they died to the moment they lived again unless a deity wills it otherwise.

[dabiralovesfun]

In My Shadows. 2

Ateez Fanfiction

To understand the enigma that is Aurora, one must first understand the history behind it.

The beginning of the 1800s was a tumultuous and violent time for the country. The people had no other hobby than killing their leaders and destroying public property. Violence was the order of the day and it seemed nothing could stop it. Anarchy was creeping near. sniffing around.

Enter Kim Haejoong. A man with a solution.

The people had simple demands; Down with the government and class system, equal distribution of wealth and taxes.

Kim Haejoong had a simple solution; Kill them all.

Very simple.

Haejoong was the Supreme leader, and he had no intention of ever letting go. Equal distribution? Bullshit, down with the government? He WAS THE GOVERNMENT, and he sure as hell wasn't ready to die. Down with the class system? How about down with you! But he needed help. The upper-class supported him, of course. He was saving their gold plated asses. But it wasn't enough, the people still outnumbered them. He needed help. And fast.

Enter Selyse Nightengale.

A slim woman with a beauty that made her look deadly. Like a lion, ready to pounce and devour. Her black hair, pale skin, and blood red lips unnerved everyone she came across.

Selyse had a plan. The shadow Cult. She claimed she had spiritual ways to solve the countries issues.

Haejoong called bullshit. He had never believed in spirituality. It was war and victory that got him here, not God or angels.

But Selyse pressed, she wasn't asking him to become a priest or fast. "Conquer.blood with blood" she said.

Haejoong thought she had gone mad, but he was running desperate. The army was loosing to the people, and the violence was getting close to the capital.

Haejoong decided to give the mad woman a chance. It wouldn't cost him anything. If he failed, she died. No biggie.

June 5th, 1870

All the upper-class families gathered in the dead of night, Selyse stood in front of them in a dark red dress holding a bowl.

"We begin"

They all stepped forward to pierce their fingers on a blade and let the blood drip into the bowl.

When the last man was done, selyse began to sing in a shrill voice. The night seemed to get sing in response.

After a while, she covered the bowl.

"It is done."

In a month, all the revolutionary leaders had died strange, violent deaths. Just like that. The people grew scared and Haejoong grew happier. He found it easier to do what he did best.

Surpress and opress.

Selyse was granted riches, and she became a main advisor to Haejoong... Some upperclassmen even whispered lover.

Finally, the country was stabilised, and all thought it was over.

The Shadows had not gotten the memo, though, the murders continued. Violent, evil, and sadistic.

Haejoong couldn't care less, all the deaths were common people.

The families that shed blood that night would never be affected.

Aurora Academy was set up in 1876 to cater to the elites of the capital and as a show of wealth and power.

But there was more to it.

Aurora was created for protection. Why? The families that pleged to the Shadows didn't even know. All they knew is their descendants must attend Aurora or die.

And so it was. Generation after generation. Until it became tradition.

Haejoong was content. He had secured his dynasty. Now his descendants will rule just as he had. Strong and unbreakable.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hongjoong felt like puking. The bodies were so mutilated you almost couldn't see their faces. But he couldn't break in public, he was a future leader. He had to be strong. Unbreakable. A warrior. A Victor. Just like- Just like Kim Haejoong.

His brain started to fail him. His vision becoming blurry. Be strong. Strong. Unbreakable. Victorious.

"Hongjoong-a."

A hand gently held him. He looked up, Seonghwa.

"I'm fine." He couldn't afford to say anything else.

"Stop lying."

Thanks for reading this also. I promise it will come together. Trust the process😉. Luv youuu❤️

[resquices-of-godhood]

Building the world, part 2: electric boogaloo (AKA: forgotten details)

The crown cults addendum:

I spoke about the divine part of the cults, but forgot about the mortal side. Besides the crown bearer, there are a few important roles in those cults: enforcers, tax collectors and disciples (and the leader's spouses, depending on who you ask).

Though the roles of tax collectors and enforcers (and spouses) don't deviate much from canon, the disciples do have significant changes: since they receive a fraction of the divine power of the crown bearer, they become able to perform some of their duties in their absence, like giving sermons, hosting minor rituals and acting as leadership. Depending on the cult, they can be more or less proactive and independent while in charge (the old faith kept theirs fairly dependant on the Bishops' orders, including Narinder through his vessels).

Some cults have other important roles, usually devolved from disciples in some way. The witnesses are one such role, albeit fairly common. They are some of the oldest, most loyal living disciples, and sometimes a former vessels, in a cult by the time they are appointed to the position by a Bishop nearing the end of their development. Beyond the regular duties of a disciple in any given cult, a witness is tasked with finding, or becoming, the next bearer of their crown. Most usually go berserk when their leader is felled, however, rampaging across the lands in search of the one responsible for such an act to claim revenge, but few survive the encounter with a god killer. This state of berserk rage is derived from the loyalty they held towards their god, as well as the grief for their loss, but the more cognizant witnesses ensure the continued survival of the cult with a worthy inheritor of the crown before embarking down in this hunt. Those witnesses are the most terrifying, as they have nothing else to lose, and will drag their target to hell with them to avenge their leader if needs be. Those who survive such ordeal, or don't even embark in this journey, usually remain as a somewhat overly critical advisor to the new bearer.

Unlike other disciples, witnesses stop aging altogether, as they are their god's backup.

Spells, curses, hexes, rituals and prayers:

While all of that falls under the umbrella of "magic stuff", each have their own specifics, rules and requirements. For example, while similar in concept, only spells can be safely cast by any mortal with enough time or willpower, while curses require some sort of divine energy source and hexes harnesses the natural energy of the world at a steep price. Other kinds of magic might exist in small, isolated pockets, but these 5 are the biggest, most common ones.

Spells are the kind of magic that harness one's internal energy to create the desired effects. Because of that, the scope of most spells don't go much farther than the occasional parlor trick without the assistance of magical components. It is well suited for enchanting things because of that, though.

Curses are like spells, but require a source of divine energy, like fervor or sin, to work without backlashing into the user's health. Divine curses go a step further, requiring a current or former connection to the divine powers of a crown, be it direct or in the form of discipleship. While most of those are the combat abilities shown in the game, some are the more classical idea of what a curse composes, while others are more utilitarian, but end up in the same category due to the use of fervor, sin or other divine energy source.

Hexes are still similar to spells and curses: use a source of energy to conjure effects by your own effort. The difference is that, instead of personal or divine energy, it uses the natural flow of magic of the world. The thing with this flow is that what goes around, comes around, and with interest. As rule of thumb, any hex cast will affect the user with thrice the power, though that's only for the main kind of hexes. Other doctrines have different rites and chants to offset the return effect.

From quicker casts to more ritualistic procedures, we start with rituals. Rituals have several requisites according to what the desired effects are, and so are the costs. Ritual presided by a crown bearer or a disciple of one have the materials replaced with something relevant to the crown's domains (bones for the red crown or weapon components for the purple crown, for example). Not all rituals are available to all crowns, as some domain specific rituals cannot be replicated without the presence of a crown of that domain (like the ritual of resurrection), while others can, given the instructions are present (like the funerary rites). Rituals usually also require at least two other people to be used, though some may require more or less people.

Prayers are a ritual adjacent rite, in which someone requests a portion of divine power to manifest an effect. While mortals pray for the gods they worship, a crown bearer usually don't worship anybody. Instead, they pray for themselves, creating a self feeding loop of divine energy to increase their power for as long as the prayer continues. Though mostly only spiritually inclined bearers tend to use prayers in their routine, all bearers are capable of performing them.

Prophecies:

Those with the ability of prophecy are able to learn what the future holds, though it's not entirely clear or on command. Claunek is possibly the only one that can have clear(er) qprophecies made on the fly, but even he must follow rules to do that, namely that he cannot see his own future unless it is intertwined with another's, and he requires his cards to do so. For most of the others, they receive prophetic visions at random, though they can later access ones at will.

Such visions start fairly cryptic and vague at first, lacking details depending on how far along they are. It usually begins with some apparently disconnected series of images that give the initial prophecy ("five become four, become three, become two, become one" from Shamura's prophecy, for example). In rare instances, those visions come midway through the prophecy progression, giving more details right away, but never the full story.

Prophecies are also fairly localized. Some of the biggest ones only affected a single continent at most, and most don't go beyond a single pantheon. They are, however, hard to break. Throughout history, there are very few tales of those that avoided fate by exploiting the wording of a prophecy, essentially fulfilling them on their own terms.

Sometimes, even those without crowns or the ability of prophecy may have prophetic dreams, though they are by far the most nebulous and hard to decipher (Narinder had recurring dreams with lambs during his ascension, the reasons of why only becoming clear long after his imprisonment, for example).

[sang8262]

🛏️😳💭🫂 and any others you may want to do >:3

so many! but pining stage is PEAK, the most interesting since there's Potential and uncertainty for this one i'm actually gonna write it for my self insert OC x JP ohoho answering 🛏️😳💭🫂 and my bonus pick, 💔 ->

🛏️ did you two ever have a "there's only one bed" moment?

Likely not!! Especially when they're both just starting to work with each other, there's too much of a 'business relationship' barrier for them to ever share hotel rooms or the like. JP also, can afford to book nice rooms for both of them (it's tax deductible) , so he's making sure they get separate, deluxe rooms.

😳 what moment flustered them the most?

For OC: upon hearing that JP's read her essays, and found their arguments compelling. She'd never have expected some stuffy suit to have taken the time, let alone challenge it with his own counter arguments. Afterwards, she gains a lot of respect for him. (It's calculated, of course, on JP's part).

For JP: I'm not sure if he's capable of the emotion, being ever prepared and having a lot of lived experience. I'd like to imagine he's at least pleasantly surprised when OC doesn't die from Psycho Power. He might feel something akin to intrigue when she asks--rather, demands he teach her how to control it.

💭 who daydreamed about the other more often? what did they think about most?

Probably OC, and rather embarrassed with herself once she realizes just how often she thinks about him;; At first it's business related: thinking about the topic of his speech from the day before, or what other policy she should propose to him next. But then it starts wavering more towards things like, what he was wearing during his speech instead. After Kalima tells her the truth about his money laundering, she's entirely preoccupied with how the confrontation with him will go. At that point, it's less daydreaming and more, steeling herself for how he'll react to her knowing the truth. No amount of thinking will prepare her for Psycho Power though.

🫂 what's one significant moment of physical contact you had during the pining stage?

I'm thinking OC starts pining more after being imbued with Psycho Power, and is definitely more willing to let herself pine at that stage. So I can imagine at some point, JP, while giving instructions or teaching her how to fight, gets quite close and touchy to fix her posture or something (bit cliche i know ha). Giving it a twist that the memorable part during this interaction, is that OC's emotions flare up to his touch, that her Psycho Power reacts violently in return-- like Amnesia bombs or something. She's apologizing for unintentionally attacking him (he's fine), and JP might realize then, that she has more promise as a Psycho Power user than he initially thought.

💔 were there ever any moments of angst or jealousy thanks to the hidden feelings?

Absolutely for OC :) Somewhat subconsciously towards Kalima, after learning she used to be his closest advisor, at least, before the Incident with Ken. But she knows Kalima has a lot more information on JP that she's not aware of, since Kalima has the intel on behalf of the Resistance. Then afterward with Psycho Power, negative emotions are turned worse. Not knowing JP's real background and being distant from him, eventually grow into a near obsession with finding out who he is (yes this is a self call out lmao). Whenever she comes across someone with intel on JP, or Shadaloo co-workers who've known him for longer, it's not exactly jealously she feels. Rather, it's with intense enthusiasm and fascination does she interrogate, grill, and squeeze out ever little thing they know about him. JP himself finds this rather distressing, and placates her with (false?) stories about himself. She knows they might not be true, so it ends up having the opposite effect, ever encouraging her to find out more about him.

[rockislandadultreads]

Book Recommendations: More Financial Literacy Month Picks 

Retirement Reboot by Mark Miller

Even before the pandemic, a large share of households by Americans over age 50 faced the threat that their living standards would decline sharply in retirement. In the wake of COVID-19, these numbers will surely worsen. In Retirement Reboot: Commonsense Financial Strategies for Getting Back on Track, finance writer and regular New York Times retirement contributor Mark Miller offers practical strategies for Americans to improve their retirement prospects.

If you're nearing retirement age and worry you haven't saved enough, Retirement Reboot will walk you through the core decisions to make now to improve your retirement outcomes--even if retirement is just a few years away. You'll learn how to make a plan, think through the timing of retirement, optimize Social Security, navigate Medicare, build savings, and tap home equity. You'll also explore ongoing strategies, such as careful budgeting, generating income from work even after retirement, planning for long-term care, and leveraging special assistance aimed at low-income workers. If you have low savings, or none at all, Miller's simple steps can help you make the most of your remaining working years and reboot the retirement you always imagined.

How to Money by Jean Chatzky

There’s no getting around it. You need to know how to manage money to know how to manage life — but most of us don’t! This illustrated guidebook from New York Times bestselling author and financial expert Jean Chatzky, Kathryn Tuggle, and their team at HerMoney breaks down the basics of money—how to earn it, manage it, and use it—giving you all the tools you need to take charge and be fearless with personal finance.

How to Money will teach you the ins and outs of: -creating a budget (and sticking to it) -scoring that first job (and what that paycheck means) -navigating student loans (and avoiding student debt) -getting that first credit card (and what “credit” is) -investing like a pro (and why it’s important!)

All so you can earn more, save smart, invest wisely, borrow only when you have to, and enjoy everything you've got!

The Financial Recovery Workbook by Michele Cagan

It can happen to anyone: no matter how well you’ve planned or saved, an emergency—job loss, a severe illness or accident, divorce, or weather disaster—can put a big hit on your finances. The steps you take to stay afloat can have a huge effect on how you and your finances recover from disaster.

The Financial Recovery Workbook provides a step-by-step guide to help you make a plan to get your financial life back on track. You’ll learn which bills to prioritize, whether or not you use credit cards—and which cards are most beneficial—how to find quick cash to pay for necessities, whether or not you should dip into your retirement fund, and more! With expert financial advisor Michele Cagan as your guide, discover how to regain control of your finances and change your relationship with money for good.

How to Pay for College by Ann Garcia

Providing your children with a good education is one of the best gifts you can give. But it’s not straightforward. Education costs and student loan debt are skyrocketing. In some cases, college costs upwards of $300,000 for four years. And calculations for financial aid and merit awards are complex and opaque. How do you find the best education options that fit your budget and are absolutely right for your child? And how do you save for your kids’ college without wrecking your own retirement, or putting your other goals completely out of reach?

In How to Pay for College, Ann shows you how to develop a financial plan for college that really works, including:

-How to save and how much to save. -How to find good college choices that fit your budget. -How to get scholarships and tax benefits. -How to talk to your kids about the costs and benefits of going to college.

Detailed explanations of the key elements in planning for college—the FAFSA’s methodology, merit awards, 529 plans, AP credits, student loans, financial aid awards, budgeting, and more—are paired with worksheets and exercises to give you a full picture of your family’s college financial position.

[murder-and-mayhem]

Randomizer says 67, angry kisses!

HELLO! Thank you so much for this ask! I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to get to it. There was a sudden family emergency and I had to do some unexpected traveling. Combine that with work, and well...it's been rough.

I appreciate this ask so much though, so please enjoy my trooper, Nahavii, and angry kisses with her surly cat husband.

Prompt from these asks here!

Pairing: Nahavii (OC)/Aric Jorgan

A/N: There's like, a little angst in this if you squint? Maybe? Definitely some fluff sprinkled in here. Also some swearing so beware of that if it bothers you! Writing below the cut, including some self-indulgent pics of my baby for tax :)

"Dammit Vee, what the hell were you thinking charging in there like that?!"

Nahavii watched as Aric stormed up the ship ramp, all tense shoulders and clenched fists. She could already picture the face he was making behind his bucket—the furrowed brow, the curled lips and bared teeth, those green eyes blazing. Aric yanked his helmet off with a growl. Sure enough, he was livid, his face contorted into the exact expression she'd so vividly imagined. If she hadn't been so angry herself she would have been just a little smug about it. Maybe even shot him a smirk.

In any other circumstance, it likely would have caught him off guard enough to calm him down. But she wasn't looking to make peace. Not this time.

Nahavii sealed the outer doors before turning to her seething husband.

"It was nothing I couldn't handle. You know damn well that I've been doing this long before they yanked me out of carbonite."

Jorgan scoffed.

"Yeah, and when you pulled a stunt like that you always had your squad to watch your back! You didn't even wait for me, Nahavii. You can't just run in there guns blazing like that!"

The fur along Nahavii's neck bristled and she choked back a vicious snarl.

"The hell I can't, Major."

It had come out harsher than she'd intended—her tone dangerously low and laced with vitriol—but the sentiment was there nonetheless. She was sick and tired of being treated like a child. At best, Lana and Theron acted as if she was made of glass—a behavior likely born of her near-death experience on Asylum, but one she still resented. At their worst, Nahavii felt like her own advisors believed her incapable. Like she was just some greenhorn grunt before they'd thawed her out rather than a seasoned veteran.

She'd experienced war and death since she was old enough to hold a blaster, and lately she felt like she was simply a talking head to them.

Now she was catching flak from Aric? Of all people? Nahavii's fists clenched so hard she heard her knuckles crack. The last thing she needed right now was to be treated like she was incompetent in the field by her own former exo....by her partner.

Jorgan stared, stunned, for a long moment, but the muscle in his jaw was twitching. She'd been on the receiving end of that glare more than enough to know that he was a breath away from blowing his top.

"Don't you kriffing dare pull rank on me, Nahavii." He hissed, his own tone low in warning.

"Well it sure as hell got your attention!" She roared, "Maybe now you'll listen to me! I'm not an idiot, Aric. I know what I'm capable of, and I'm sick to death of being treated like I'm gonna fucking fall apart if something breathes in my general direction!"

Understanding flickered somewhere behind the rage in Aric's eyes, bright enough to give Nahavii pause. That split second was all he needed. Aric was on her before she could even react, his helmet clattering to the floor as his hands clutched either side of her face.

"You stubborn ass, I don't think you're an idiot!" He shouted, gently shaking her head in hands as if that would somehow help his words sink in.

Aric pulled her down and kissed her hard. It was desperate and furious—all clashing teeth and bruised lips and swallowed snarls. Intoxicating, invigorating, and irritating all at once. Nahavii whimpered as she kissed him back, but she refused to let him weasel his way out of this fight so easily. When they finally managed to come up for air she was gasping, and Aric's chest heaved against her with every breath.

"Can't you see that I am terrified of losing you again?" He whispered fiercely, his voice rough.

The rage that had been steadily boiling away behind Nahavii's heart fizzled out in an instant, swallowed up by a wave of crippling guilt. It settled in her gut like lead—cold, heavy, and thick—and she suddenly felt ill. Having Aric at her side again had felt so natural that she'd fallen back into their old patterns. She'd relished in his familiarity; leaned heavily on the trust and tactics they'd spent years building together before Valkorion. Before Arcann and his carbonite. It had been muscle memory for her...as easy as breathing.

But what had been mere moments in that prison for her had been years for him. How could she have possibly assumed things would be the same?

Her mouth gaped as she floundered for words. There was so much she wanted to say...so much that she needed to say. Instead she could only manage to squeak out a pathetic "oh". Nahavii cradled her husband's face in her shaking hands.

"Kriff, Aric, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She breathed, pressing her forehead to his.

"Don't be. You've got a lot on your shoulders, Vee...a lot of people looking to you for answers. For protection." He said softly, "But you have to come home. I need you to come back home. I won't make it if....not this time."

His voice cracked as he spoke, and Nahavii heard him swallow hard. She could only nod, suddenly unable to speak around the lump lodged in her own throat. Hot tears prickled at the corners of her eyes and her shoulders quaked with a silent sob. Aric pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, achingly tender as his thumbs gently wiped away the tears starting to spill over the planes of her cheeks. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should have been the one comforting him instead.

It had been him that had searched for her for five long years—fought for her tooth and nail; vehemently insisting that she wasn't gone. It had been him that had seen Havoc gutted while the Republic ate itself alive, and it had been him that'd had to watch as the Eternal Empire tore apart the worlds they'd fought so hard to defend. Yet here he was, picking up her pieces yet again after she'd been so kriffing selfish. Nahavii slumped against him, her arms circling around his neck to hold him as close as their armor would allow. 

They stayed that way for a long time before Aric found the words to speak again.

"D'you remember the promise I made you when we got married?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper against the shell of her ear.

Nahavii sniffled and nodded. How could she ever forget?

"You promised you'd always have my six." She said.

Aric pulled back to look her in the eye. His fingers brushed a few stray hairs back into her bun before he grasped her gently by the shoulders.

"I meant that Vee. I've got your back, on and off the field. I just need you to let me be there."

A grin tugged at the corners of Aric's mouth.

"Especially if you're gonna insist on raising hell anywhere your boots touch the ground."

Nahavii hiccuped a laugh.

"Well you know me...it's just business as usual." She replied, her voice thick beneath the tears.

Aric snorted, and he shot her a lop-sided smile. Her favorite smile...the one so uniquely him. The one that made her knees weak and her heart flutter like bird's wings against her ribs.

"Promise me you'll be careful, Vee? That you'll let me have your back?" He asked, the smile gone as his gaze turned solemn.

Nahavii blinked back a fresh wave of tears and nodded curtly.

"I promise."

The grin returned—breaking over his face like dawn on the horizon—and Nahavii was completely lost. Aric slotted his lips over hers, sighing at the connection as his fingers carded into her hair. The kiss was less insistent this time. Soft and slow but just as deep; repairing the bond that had frayed between them after so much lost time. It left her breathless and shivering, and when he pulled away at last Nahavii struggled to bite back a whine.

"C'mon." He murmured, lips brushing hers as he spoke, "Let's get this bucket in the air. We have a long ride home."