#if you want anything changed lmk!!

[herostoried]

Mirai knows he's dying.

An anxious nausea has captured his senses, even stronger than the pain that seems to have consumed him, taking over every part of his consciousness slowly. He knows it's only natural to be afraid, of course - the human instinct to live and survive is a powerful thing, and no man is capable of shutting off the emotions that come when it seems like the end is near.

But still... he wishes they would go away all the same. He's done his best, and if these are to be his last moments, if he really has no hope of changing this - he'd at least like to feel hopeful in his final hour. After all, heroes are people who should smile until the end... even if he could never reach up to All Might in that regard, and if he maybe struggled with that more than some others, it's still always been an ideal that Mirai has valued highly.

What's life worth without humor? Still... it must be because he's alone, with no-one by his side... but all Mirai can think of are his many regrets. It stings, and he knows that those lingering thoughts won't change a thing... it's best not to dwell on them at all, so he turns his thoughts to the people he loves, instead. Mirio will make a fine hero... although Mirai wishes he could've seen All Might one last time, at the end...

Suddenly, though- just as he's thinking that, Mirai senses the presence of another. He can't make out who it is, and he's not foolish enough to think that his prayers have been answered - but nonetheless, he turns his head to them slowly, trying to make out a shape he recognizes anyway.

"Who's... there...?" His voice is weak and raspy, but he still manages to speak. But, the figure that he sees emerging before his eyes... could that be...?

@vsagis ( starter! )

[bast4rds]

❝  𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗱  ,  @warwaged  ❞  it  need  not  be  said  that  vhagar  loomed  in  their  minds.  better  in  the  mind  than  the  sky.  for  she  was  a  terror  they  were  woefully  unequipped  to  face.  &  vhagar  had  been  her  mother's.  &  vhagar  should  have  been  hers.  ❝  and  so  it  will  remain.  you  would  be  mad  to  pursue  it.  ❞      ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉʳ ᶜᵃˡˡ

[thetisming]

amatonormativity: a romantic partner should be the most important person in EVERYONE'S life

NOT amatonormativity: MY romantic partner is the most important person in MY life, but i understand this is not the same for other people

allosexnormativity: EVERYONE should have sex and sex is something EVERYONE needs/wants/should want

NOT allosexnormativity: I PERSONALLY enjoy sex and love having sex because it makes ME feel good, but other people dont feel the same and that's okay

platonormativity: having friends is important for EVERYONE and EVERYONE needs/has/should have friends

NOT platonormativity: having friends is important to ME and I PERSONALLY love having friends, but there are people who dont and theres nothing wrong with that

faminormativity (is that the word?): family is important for EVERYONE and EVERYONE needs to have their family

NOT faminormativity: family is important to ME and I PERSONALLY need my family with me, but other people dont feel the same and i understand that

lovenormativity (again, not sure if this is a word): EVERYBODY feels love and there's something wrong wiith you if you dont

NOT lovenormativity: I PERSONALLY feel love and love people, but not everyone does and that's completely okay!

NOT amatonormativity: i dont have friends/have any desire to have friends, i am happy with other relationships/no relationships at all

NOT platonormativity: i dont have any desire to be in a romantic relationships, and i am happy with my platonic relationships

NOT allosexnormativity: i like hooking up with people and having one night stands or friends with benefits

NOT faminormativity: i care about my family deeply and am close with family members

NOT lovenormativity: i feel love for people i care about

it's not normative to personally enjoy something, so long as you respect that other people simply arent like you and aren't going to like the same things as you. taking down normativity is a two way street, allos and aspecs need to do it. support your local aros, aces, apls, afams and other aspecs today! remember to challange all normativities, and to not enforce other normativity by saying how bullshit other normativities are!

nothing is universal. romance is not universal. sex is not universal. friendship is not universal. family is not universal. love is not universal. nothing is universal.

[theerastour]

requested by anonymous

lover & midnights lock screens (like/reblog if you save 💜)

[lantern-icons]

Duck

Flag(s): Progress, lesbian, gay, bi, trans, genderfluid, nonbinary, asexual, and aromantic.

Shape(s): Fluffy circle with sparkles

Requested by: @the-decapod

Anyone can use, credit appreciated but not required.

[imminent-danger-came]

Lady Bone Demon: "Do not lament your fate child, you can rest knowing you served your purpose—destiny has found you."

(2x10 This is the End!)

-

Lady Bone Demon: "A reminder: it seems you can not be trusted to willingly follow the path of destiny. But know this: If you betray me again—one misstep, one failure in any way—I will erase the very memory of you."

(3x04 The Winning Side)

-

Tang: "You're wrong. I know I'm not a strong as they are. I may still be searching for my purpose—but what I do know, is that doing it alone is not the path I'm destined to take. Deep in my heart, I know my place is alongside my friends."

(3x08 Benched)

-

Lady Bone Demon: "I sent you a task—you were to retrieve the Monkie King and his protégé, yet you refused the path of destiny and so there will be pain."

(3x08 Benched)

-

Tang: "STOP! It was me! I mean, yeah, Macaque forced me to do it and I am definitely starting to have second thoughts on the whole thing now but- I don't know how and I don't know why, I just felt like I had to. Like it was...destiny!" Lady Bone Demon Voice Over: "Destiny can not be undone Sun Wukong."

(3x10 The Samadhi Fire)

-

Lady Bone Demon: "No matter what you do, you cannot change the path of destiny." MK: "I don't know if this all happened because it was destined to, but I have to believe that I found the staff so I could use it for good." [...] "If you really believed that destiny can't be changed, you wouldn't be using every ounce of power you have to keep him contained!"

(3x14 Destiny Fulfilled)

-

Lady Bone Demon: “Know this, monkey, you and I are not so different. We both fight for what we think is right—that pursuit only leads to one thing." MK: "Hmmhm. To destiny, right?" Lady Bone Demon: "No. To pain."  

(3x14 Destiny Fulfilled)

-

MK: "I can't believe that worked!" Tang: "Eh, if that was destined to go wrong, then it would have!"

(4x03 The Great Tang Man)

-

Tang: "If your bonds of friendships our strong, then you will always find your way back to one another!"

(4x04 Pig Napped!)

-

Macaque: "Wukong was on a path of self-destruction, we all were. But when he met the monk, it set him on a different path." MK: "Ah! The path of the good guy! Making those good life choices?"

(4x11 A Lifetime of Mistakes)

-

Purpose, Pain, and the Path of Destiny

[roboraindrop]

Hey plus size or underweight self shippers? Your f/os don't see your weight as a flaw. They love you for all that you are, and that includes everything. Yes, human beings are very flawed. Yes, your f/os do love your flaws as well! But, your weight is not a flaw. Just wanted to make sure you knew that. 💕

[joshdiaz]

Taveeta Szymanowicz as Theresa Baptiste in Teen Wolf, Season 1

Theresa is not superstitious. It's easy not to be, in a small boring town like hers, until it isn't anymore. Scott McCall makes first line, Allison Argent blows into town, and suddenly everything is topsy turvy.

There is, first of all, the devastation of watching her crush get a girlfriend. She knows she doesn't have a claim on Scott, obviously, but that's kind of the worst part; even if she'd made a move, it wouldn't have mattered. When she got hit with a lacrosse ball last year during their shared practice, he'd run to help her, and a year later, she still couldn't stop thinking about it; Scott, on the other hand, was always helping someone do something, and probably hadn't thought about it since. She wasn't rooting for the guy to be unhappy, obviously, but pining had been a lot easier when no one else noticed him.

There is also the unfortunate fact that Theresa, generally, seems to be noticing a lot more these days. It's hard to accept that the rash of attacks in her town are really animals when she keeps seeing flashes of men with teeth. It's hard to focus when her thigh itches even though there's no scab there. It's hard to enjoy school dances when she has the deep, deep feeling that something is wrong. It's hard to talk to her friends when none of them are seeing what she's seeing and it's hard to figure out what she knows about what's going on when she has gaps in her memory. She'd read once that brains will sometimes do that to protect you, but she doesn't feel safer.

But it doesn't matter. Men don't have sharp teeth and she doesn't have any marks on her body and superstitions don't mean anything. This will pass, as it always does, and Beacon Hills will be boring again.

If Lydia Martin hadn't almost bled out on the lacrosse field the night of the formal, she might've been able to believe that.

@nolanhollogay

[forgottenarthur]

In Ruins | Arthur, Roderick, Eilia, Aria, etc...

Another step. Another. Up and up and up they rose before him, unending as the Kolchean ouroboros. And not a soul was speaking. For all the attendants traipsing and tripping after their god-given Emperor, a strange breathy silence pervaded, headed by the sullen-faced ó Réaltaí sisters (as the Staffords were now, evidently, to be called) and maintained by Roderick's many retainers, half-gasping with the interminable climb. The silence was a veil and Arthur felt twitchy, his fingers beating a tattoo against his thigh as he walked and walked.

"You Astairans certainly were not in jest when you claimed to live amongst the stars, I see."

Silence. Arthur detested silence. He'd always dested it, and he detested it now most of all. It was tense; it was subdued. And he didn't know what Aria was thinking...

Or anyone else. His father, for instance, or even...He glanced around to catch another face, half-desperate to prove there were other feelings which concerned him. Eilionora. No. But he wasn't supposed to care what she thought: she was the enemy. Still. He cared even less for what Sir Gregory thought.

Huffing, he shrugged. "I think I shall be eighty years old by the time we reach the top!"

"And here I imagined," began Eilionora, tone condescending. "A knight might be glad of such exercise."

"I--" Arthur frowned, rankling against the comment and struggling to invent a sufficient retort, when at last daylight (dying, by now, he saw) broke upon them. "At last!"

By the time Arthur gained the room, a world of ancient plaster featuring a tiny stone window in its concave surface. His father was already there, attendants arrayed about him like the streaming light of the sun, itself painting all in Arthur's own red. Eilionora stood opposite him, her expression fierce and determined, with her sister at her side and, fobidding as Aria looked, Arthur found himself drifting towards her.

Looking up, then, Arthur saw the look on his father's face. "Shit."

This was an expression well known to Arthur: triumphant and gleaming. The emperor was about to make the weight of whatever victory he'd won felt. "You thought to keep it from us," began Roderick, eyes glowing. "You strove and you strove, but every trace of your heathen gods will now be expunged."

Arthur felt Aria's eyes on him, but he could not pull his gaze from his father. Turning, Roderick grinned knowingly and suddenly thrust his arm directly through a wall.

"Father!" Arthur cried, starting forward. He stopped short. The emperor was unhurt and, in fact, a hole now stood in the wall where his hand once had been.

"A crafty illusion, to be sure," gloated Roderick. "Who'd think to vellum up a wall? Painted so precisely as to look to be pure plaster. But your woman's trick has come to naught."

Snapping, Roderick gestured and, at once, his attendants got to the business of tearing down the wall.

"God," breathed Arthur.

Roderick's gaze flicked towards him. "Why do you stand by them, Arthur?"

Arthur glanced hastily at the ladies. Swallowed. "To ensure they do not attempt to flee."

Roderick frowned.

"Your inevitable victory is something they really ought to see, Your Imperial Majesty."

Satisfied, Roderick smiled triumphantly at Eilionora, and nodded to Arthur. Aria glared at him. The emperor turned as a broad, wooden door was revealed and, with some difficulty, prized open by the attendants.

Now, it was to file into the room. Two servants went first -- to ensure the safe passage of the glorious presence behind them against any booby traps -- then the emperor went through followed by his attendants and lastly the ladies, with Arthur bringing up the train.

The door was low and ancient he saw, its planks turned half to stone by unimaginable age and, curious, Arthur swept his fingers along it as he passed through. The soul, he was told, was recurring. Had some version of him ever touched this wood before, perhaps its gentle-growing branches before it had been cut. Stooping to pass under the lintel, Arthur was temporarily blinded by a blanket of dark, limpid eyes narrowing as he stumbled a step or two inside.

He emerged into a vault of starlight as the last vestiges of day gave way to velvet-soft night, the firmament dotted with twinkling starlight, caught in a veil of midnight. It seemed a thousand, thousand stars glittered in the liquid night and that, if Arthur only stretched out his hand, he might just touch them with the edges of his fingertips.

"God be good," whispered Arthur. "I've never seen so many stars."

Glancing about him, he took in the ruins all about him -- a shattered dome, floor-to-ceiling arches that may once have contained windows now gaping over a yawning chasm.

"Do you know what this room is, Arthur?"

"No," he said, curiously glancing around him. "What is this place?"

It seemed to him that each lain stone was blue as lapis lazuli -- perhaps was lapis lazuli! -- and inset with ivory or some such so that stars were inset even into the very stones that strained to shelter them against the heedless sky above. Stretching out a hand, he laid it flat against one wall, cautiously approaching the casements to peer over the side of the mountain. Nothing but open sky greeted his gaze.

"How far up are we?"

"This is the crest of the mountain, Arthur."

He straightened, turned back towards his father. "What?!" he demanded. " Then--then this is--"

"Yes, the so-called Vault of the Heavens, the Cathedral of Stars, and other such: the very spot where their heathen goddess is said to have once set foot, according to some legends; where the shards of starlight were found from which their familial swords were forged. This," Roderick pointed down, grinning now in the pale starlight. "This is the most sacred place in all of Stafford."

Arthur glanced down at his feet, some sensation half like guilt springing vine-like across him, before his gaze shot suddenly to Aria, her own gaze now trained, relentless, upon Roderick.

"Now," continued Roderick, even his tone a gloat. "Where are those craters where the stars touched the earth? They're in this very room..."

Arthur's gaze did not leave Aria's face and, though it was hard to tell in the streaming starlight, he thought perhaps he saw tears sparkling at the edges of her eyes. His throat tightened. Arthur's hands closed to fists.

"Fill them in, shall we?" continued Roderick. "And bring what's left of this place to the ground. No trace of this heresy shall remain once I've done."

It was misery on her face, bleak and utter. She seemed to look at the walls, to the sky, as if they spike to her, friends soon to be shattered. A loss as deep as her name. Gritting his teeth, Arthur turned abruptly to his father, but Eilionora beat him to it. She was...laughing. Arthur watched fury dawn upon Roderick's face, unfurling like a plume of liquid flame over obsidian-dark granite. Sneer for sneer and glare for glare, emperor and former queen stared one another down.

She came forward. "No original ideas, have you? Do you know some of my own ancestors had a similar notion. Their great hall might prove more useful, they believed, otherwise. They tried everything they could -- every earthly tool there is: stone to cover up and concrete to pour. They even attempted, when that did not work, to flatten the rest of the earth. In every case, their tools came away bent and broken. The goddess shelters this place still. You can no more raze this site than they!"

Roderick's face was granite, craggy rocks -- brow and nose and lips -- etched with statuesque ire. As Roderick moved to close the gap between himself and his would-be bride, Arthur stepped forward.

Arthur had seen his mother do this a thousand times. Surely...surely he could do it, too. Oh, he could not employ precisely the same tactics she did: what Roderick might find favorable in a woman would prove repulsive to him in a man, but the principles still stood. He could move the Emperor, if he chose. Surely he could. He simply never had. But surely, surely he could. And he would. Just this once. Just this once, he would...

Slowly he began to clap, letting boastful swagger into his step as he strode forward, placing himself between the emperor and the ladies, and turning a look of perfect arrogance upon the one-time queen. He'd perfected this look long ago. One in eternal competition had to.

"It was a fine attempt, my lady," he laughed. "But did you imagine the God's Chosen would fall for so obvious a ploy?"

"Ploy? It is no--"

Laughing, again, Arthur held up a hand to silence her and turned towards his father, clapping him on the shoulder. "The hubris of women excels everything."

He felt Roderick's gaze heavy upon him. Here it was. The moment. Everything hinged on what he said next. It wasn't a betrayal of Roderick, he told himself. What he said could be true! And there was Aria, lovely and lonely as the stars above, tears radiant with the same silver light. He couldn't stand by and watch. How could anyone bear the misery on Aria's face? No. He had to act. He had to.

"Imagine, trying to goad an emperor into cheating himself of his greatest prize!"

Arthur was careful not to look at Aria. He felt the weight of her look, but he did not turn. He hoped she saw what he was doing -- but he doubted it as well. She'd just see the hateful swaggering prince too easily bent by his father's will: the one she'd always detested leaping out again: throwing her beliefs in her sister's face; laughing at them both. Still, it was better, Arthur told himself, better than the alternative. It was the best he could do.

"When this is the seat of power she's been guarding, the secret she's been holding onto!"

Roderick's eyes were fastened on Arthur, and the prince knew his father would not ask for clarification: he would not wish to admit to anyone that he did not see what Arthur was getting at. But Arthur would have to be careful in that, too. He couldn't let his father realize that Arthur knew he wasn't following.

"It's like a woman, isn't it? To try to manipulate you into destroying the very thing that gives her power over the Astairan people." He turned his gaze on the queen, then, found her expression contoured with rage...and confusion. "This is it, after all, isn't it? This is the reason they follow you? This place? That lost blasted sword! You blind them with symbols of power till they believe in you and nothing else! You must hate your people in truth: to wish further unrest on them, rather than cede to peace under someone else! You'd rather this place reduced to rubble, wouldn't you, than see its power put into the hands of your conqueror?"

Roderick's hand was heavy on Arthur's shoulder. He was behind him, and Arthur couldn't see his face. Was it ire? His clever father had seen the betrayal in him, and now his cruel wrath would fall upon Arthur's mother and brother and sister as well as himself! The hand was heavy enough. But it lingered, too. Was it encouragement, then, a kind of thanks for showing him...what was, in fact, a lie? A rotten son, indeed, and to both parents, it seemed. Arthur swallowed hard.

"Easy, Arthur," his father said. "We cannot fault her for trying. It can be no easy thing to see one's seat of power fall into another's hands for a second time, I am sure."

Arthur heaved a deep breath, pressing his eyes closed. It had worked. And then he heard Eilionora laughing again.

Roderick gestured and the ladies were led away. Arthur did not dare look at Aria. He had saved her sacred site for her, yes, but could she forgive him for the means? And did she know it had been his intention? And, god, he had betrayed his own honored father in so doing! Perhaps he deserved punishment, after all. And, he thought, he'd suffer it all gladly. God, what was becoming of him?

It was Arthur's turn to laugh. And putting his hands to his face, he did.

[puppyeared]

XIN YA MOMENT

[dhampiravidi]

a second chance at death (and happiness)

Achilles had known that he would choose glory over a long life the moment he won his first duel. Granted, that duel had been against Patroclus, who he had already fallen in love with. The two vowed to bathe in the Lethe together once they reached Elysium, so they could have one or more lives together somewhere else. They shared the same heart, so they should share the same adventures.

And then Patroclus died, killed by Hector while wearing Achilles's armor. Achilles had never known grief like that before, and his only comfort was the visit from his beloved's ghost, after he'd tried to bury all his pain with Hector's. When Apollo's arrow, guided by Paris, found its home in Achilles's tendon, he cried out of course, but he was glad. He could tell by the strength of the poison (and how it sapped his own) that it was going to kill him. For a second, he remembered kind Chiron, and his own son Neoptolemus--and he pushed their memories aside. Achilles would be with his missing half as soon as he closed his eyes...

He found himself in the Fields of Asphodel, where he and the other shades, ghosts with hardly any color, wandered aimlessly between plain trees, only able to groan as opposed to talk. With a heavy heart and rage directed at the gods, Achilles sat and wept. Patroclus had gone to Elysium--why wouldn't he?--but Achilles had been damned. It felt like forever before he and all the other shades' attention was drawn to something with an enticing scent that seemed familiar...ah, blood. The thing that landed him in his own personal Hell. But he never expected to see Odysseus, solid and alive in Hades. As soon as he got the chance, Achilles warned the man against dying, explaining his own suffering. Odysseus had always been a person who commanded respect, and yet Achilles did not truly understand why until the hero convinced Lord Aidoneus himself to resurrect Achilles.

The king of Hades would warn Achilles against being impious in any way, but Achilles already knew. He would not mess up his chances at an afterlife (or another life) with Patroclus. And maybe he'd get to see his son after all--according to Odysseus, Neoptolemus should've grown up and married. Achilles had a brief reunion with his mother (a big hug and lots of kisses on his cheeks), then went to join Odysseus.

"I hope I'm not too late," Achilles said, only walking up to the older man once he and his people were done burying their friend. He held out his hand, thankful for the opportunity. Just breathing fresh air felt like a blessing, though it was far from the kind Achilles desired. "You quite literally saved my life. I am in your debt."

@eternaljunkyard

[angusbyrne]

LOCATION: Woodrow House grounds DATE: Sunday, September 4, 2005 Closed starter for @natcliachen

Angus remembered being told at some point in the last week that the past summer in New York was one of the warmest on record—averaging 4.5 degrees higher than normal. September already seemed geared up to take a similar direction. The day of Richard's funeral was clear and sunny, with a projected high of 78 degrees around noon. Milder than August and balmy, it remained the type of weather you dreamed of when you fantasized about the tail-end of summer while you were caught in the dog days of it. Howbeit, it still made Angus flush around the Piqué collar of his shirt.

He only meant to wander off for a tick. Angus feared a smattering of pink would soon pass across his cheekbones or that he'd quickly become incapable of keeping down the hors d'oeuvres. The afternoon was an endless well of thank you for coming and that's an awfully kind thing for you to say and no, he never told me that story, it sounds extremely amusing and where did you say your son would be interning? I'll be sure to keep an eye out for him. Shaking hands, exchanging business cards, nosey questions, getting pat on the arm—he felt like an exposed nerve, poked and prodded and turned over for examination. He simply needed a break.

As he strode across the lawn—that was what he often did: strode—he caught sight of a familiar outline. Natalia. Neat and pretty as a paper doll, a well-trained eye might've caught the tight creases around her eyes. Tired, maybe. Annoyed by what the man in the dark navy suit said to her, most certainly. He couldn't read the man's lips, but he did judge his choice of light brown shoes. That deemed her worthy of extraction on its own, whether or not she requested one. It would be a quick detour. He approached with no lack of confidence, clapping a hand over the shoulder of the man who seemed to show no signs of reining in his passionate gesticulation.

Angus recognized his face immediately. "Macpherson," he started warmly, donning the mask of gracious host quite seamlessly, though, in the last few minutes, his tie had been knocked very slightly askew. "I've been sent to wrangle you of my own volition. Roger Milton and Graham Atterbury are engaged in a relentless debate. They're talking personal consumption expenditures, disposal personal incomes, mortgage rates—what have you." With a hand still on the man's shoulder, he gently and covertly began to turn him in the opposite direction. "Neither economists, of course. You'll have to save them with your expertise."

It was an easier task for him, getting rid of an obnoxious man. He exhaled heavily once the unwanted third party was gone, turning back to Natalia with a near-pleasant expression. The exhaustion started to crack him a bit, but he still had enough goodwill to extend her a compliment. "It's a testament to your mental fortitude that you were not just brought to tears of boredom," he said. Honest. "Tell me—how long did he go on for?"

[eyeless-smiles]

@thecreativeforge | Closed RP

The dig has been going on for about a week, now. And the Corinthian has decided he's not particularly keen on this whole security detail business.

Especially if it means getting barked at by some nobody who calls themselves head of security. And sharing a tent with other mercenaries? The Nightmare wouldn't mind it if they were a bunch of hot young men down to fuck the night away. But at best, maybe two of them are passable by Corinthian's standards. And they're both fucking straight.

And Rashad's out sticking his hands in dirt all day, so why should his lavish tent go to waste? The Corinthian wasted no time in making himself quite at home in the noblemans dwelling. Currently sprawled out on silken sheets like a cat basking in sunlight. Enjoying the lavishness of it all whilst he idlly flicks through the covers of an old tome he found on Rashad's desk. Gawking at the historical inaccuracies mortals have managed to weave about their own pasts.

@thecreativeforge

[stellylee]

WHO: Stelly & @sunnynardelli

WHERE: Collab, Hideaway Market

WHEN: June, 2024

Having dropped into The Color Wine to visit Mandy, Stelly found themselves stepping into the cool air of Collab, figuring that while they were in the area, they might as well check out the various booths, see if there was anything new that sparked their interest. Maybe some jewelry or candles, or a bag that they could use when shopping... or, more than likely, some little thing that they didn't really need, but it would end up on one of the many shelves in the house, anyway. That happened a lot.

Pushing a lock of hair back behind their ear, they picked up a delicate necklace featuring a pressed flower, turning it over in their hands and smiling to themselves. Not necessarily something that they needed, but... Stelly did love pretty things. But when they glanced up and caught sight of the familiar face that walked in through the door, they lost their train of thought, dropping the necklace back to where they had found it, and tracked Sunny's movements with their eyes, waiting to see if they would see them first... and what she would say if she did. It had really been far too long.

[irzaozer]

closed starter @samiraxiyer

location: escape artist

He grinned as he watched Samira fiddling with the lock on the ancient Egyptian sarcophagus. Stepping closer to peer at the hieroglyphic clues etched into the stone walls of the tomb-themed escape room, Irza offered some encouragement. "You almost got it." When the lock finally clicked open, he lifted the lid, revealing a series of intricate symbols inside. Tracing his finger along the patterns, Irza furrowed his brow in concentration. The symbols looked familiar. "I think these might be constellations," he said aloud, glancing up at the star-painted ceiling. An idea formed. "Maybe if we align them correctly, it'll reveal the next clue." As they worked together to decipher the celestial map, he smiled. Solving puzzles with her brought back memories of their study sessions back at Stanford. "I'm really glad we could do this. It's been way too long since we had a chance to hang out and catch up."

[conallblackbar]

closed starter for @darkenedsvn

"hey," conall waved his hand, hoping to catch the attention of the northern lord. they had met for the first time in the crownlands, and now in the west, it seemed the perfect opportunity to get to know one another a little better. conall had made very few friends in the last few years, sticking to his inner circle and those he know he could trust, but they seemed to have enough in common that, just this once, it might be worth branching out. he slid a tankard of ale to the other man, before taking a deep swig of his own. "thank the gods you're here. it's been a quite old night in the west."