#or whatever the magical realm equivalent is

[shaakyhaands]

Hear me out:

An Akedian student who knows all the gossip at the academy because they’re always “sleeping” while others are talking.

They’re like, “oh, it’s that Akedian student— they’re always napping in wackass locations, don’t mind them. Anyways, you’ll never believe which S rank I saw in town…”

But that’s the thing: that Akedian student? They’re never actually sleeping. They’re just closing their eyes.

Honestly, it started completely by accident. They were resting their eyes one day, about to genuinely take a nap, when a group of students started talking about their “special spot” in town where they got the best desserts. Not sure what to do, and not really wanting to interrupt them, the Akedian froze. After a few moments, they decided to just roll with it, and faked sleeping.

This happens a few more times, with different groups of students and townies. Soon, the Akedian realizes the interesting opportunity their reputation has inadvertently granted them. Now, what will they do with it?

Overtime, keeping with their scheme, they amass a massive, expansive library of information. Dirt on nearly every student, professor, people in town. S ranks and their valets, nobles, even some kings and queens. It really is amazing, what people are willing to say when they think no one is listening.

Then, an S rank fangirl pisses them off one day. That’s fine enough, happens more often than not. But when then woman starts harassing their familiar, the Akedian sees red. Within a few weeks, the fan girl’s deepest, most secret betrayal is circulating around the campus like wildfire. Her reputation is a wreck, her friendships are broken. How did anyone find out? She never told anyone, only her closest friend…

NGL, I think this student would be a more successful informant than J*sper. Spoilers for J*sper’s route, but that man has a whole ass disguise he has to maintain, plus whatever conversations and situations he finds himself in. He has to extract the information from the target. Meanwhile this Akedian closes their eyes, and the targets start just giving the information willingly.

Some students catch on, but know better than to expose the Akedian. Mainly because for a small fee, they can get whatever information they want.

“Yawwn. Study levitation magic if you want to pass the next exam.”

“Toa’s favourite candy is caramels. He’ll let you sneak out after curfew if you slide him a few, goodnight.”

“Sherry Invidia is growing a marijuana garden with Aquia Avari. Buy from Fenn, he’ll give you a discount.”

Tell me this wouldn’t be a fun character for a story Event??

[2d-reality]

Little Things (The Prince of Demons)

characters: Diavolo, GN!MC navigation: Diavolo | Barbatos | Simeon | Solomon | Luke | Thirteen content/warnings: little things you do, out of love. dateables edition! fluff. could be read as platonic but why would u word count: 862 notes: Alas, Dia is the only one I have finished as of now on account of how my work/life balance has been absolutely wacked recently. I'll get around to the rest eventually, I promise! I have bits and pieces here and there but the dateables don't flow as easy as the boys. Mephis will likely not be included bc I'm not even vaguely familiar with his character, and because we are both horse girls and he is my bitter rival on principle. I stared at this piece a lot but did I edit it? no

Diavolo was a lonely man. He knew a lonely childhood, tucked away in the Demon King’s palace with only the grounds staff as company. He attended lessons alone as he grew up learning what it would take to shoulder his father’s throne once he came of age. When the reigning monarch fell into his dreamless slumber, Diavolo had effectively lost yet another lifeline to anything resembling a normal existence-- a parent. As a young man (or, rather, the demon equivalent of a young man), surrounded by nobility of all kinds vying for his attention, he knew they only saw Diavolo, the Crown Prince. Even the brothers, who were the closest to being considered his friends, played along with his antics out of duty. No doubt Lucifer drilled it into them to be accommodating. 

Sometimes he felt as though he was cursed-- paying for his original sin by bearing his existence, at the end of the day, alone. 

That was, at least, until you came along. You, so small and fierce and human. You, who upon meeting him at the beginning of your tenure as an exchange student, held his gaze squarely and didn’t back down, even when he could practically smell your fear.

You, who for whatever reason, be it ignorance or sheer, unmitigated gall or something else entirely, didn’t for a moment treat him any differently than any other demon you met. Once you were comfortable living among magical beings, it was as if the floodgates opened. Despite horrified reactions from Lucifer and gentle chiding from Barbatos, you told him when his jokes were stupid (even if you still laughed), slapped his arm companionably when greeting him, and called him by a myriad of silly nicknames. 

Your friendship is the most precious thing Diavolo has ever received in his long life. You aren’t one of his subjects, born to defer to him whether you wanted to or not. You aren’t an angel, who gave him a cautious respect for the good of your realms’ relations. You didn’t even know he existed before you came to the Devildom. You chose not to see the heir to the throne, and instead saw Diavolo-- a gentle giant with more love in his heart than he was born to carry. Diavolo, who would go to the ends of all three realms for those he cared for. Diavolo, who was loud and boisterous and always wanted to be involved. Diavolo, who liked cigar cookies and video games and could be a bit of a goofball. 

He cherishes every aspect of your relationship. He loves when you send him blurry photos of various pairs of objects or animals you see when out and about, with the caption "us fr <3”. He loves getting links to dumb memes in the middle of the night, followed by laughing emojis or “this u??” You poke fun at him, bite back with quips when he makes jokes at your expense, and play silly little pranks on him. His favorite is when you gesture to something on his coat, only to flick the tip of his nose when he looks down to investigate. He’d long since caught on to that ruse, among others, but your bright smile and chirping laughter when you teased him for falling for it yet again are too precious to him to not play along.

He even appreciates the times that you turn down his invitations to spend the weekend at the palace with him, citing exhaustion from the brothers’ antics or pressing schoolwork from RAD. You’re not automatically agreeing simply because you have no choice-- you spend your limited, precious time on him because you want to. More often than not you made up for declining by showing up entirely unannounced some time later, cloaked beneath a spell to shield you from Barbatos’ sixth sense for his Lord getting up to shenanigans, beckoning him to sneak out with you to suck on thick milkshakes in some cramped corner booth and giggle conspiratorially like a couple of misbehaving teenagers. 

When he’s around you, Diavolo feels like he can breathe. He doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances. You aren’t looking for political sway, or funding, or an elevated social status. For the first time in his life, he can set aside his heavy burden and feel... normal. He can ruffle your hair, and only half-heartedly hold you back from practically climbing him to dig your knuckles into his scalp and return the favor. He can laugh when you swat at his hand as he reaches across your plate to steal a few of your fries. He wears the friendship bracelet you braided for him at all times. He considered charming it to never fade or fray, but when it finally falls apart from wear, your mock exasperation when you tell him you’ll make him another makes him feel so real. 

Diavolo was a lonely man. But now, he has a friend. A genuine, honest-to-goodness friend. You have matching contact photos, and inside jokes. You don’t call him my lord when he comes up in conversation; it’s always my friend. Now, thanks to you, he isn’t lonely anymore.

[gazeofseer]

Universe is Infinite Darkness to find the Definite, hence there breathes an ocean full of stars and realms to ignite the gleaming light in a Life"

~}^°§| Pick a Pile }^°§|~

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Image. 1 : 'Mystical charm is a matter of debate, but ask a person who is themselves like one, who sheds multiple skins as the night takes turns beneath the days, the most awakened ones torn by the fate, but lives in a state of trance and melancholy where they see life and death at the same sight you are that one right?

Nice to meet you I never thought people could be wonderful too unless I reached to your energy a subtle leader who holds the world with their presence the chaos you soothe for your peace, your rage is as profound as the seamstress you are of Whatever is found..

Well I had a note from your spirits granny's favourite, and Mommy issues being as an trait you could match your vibe easily with men not because you are maneater or they see you as an damsel in distress too dumb to be shown and preyed so many concave your presence no my dear, you are the scapegoat a ones by the divine not for the world but to be in the world for the world, your purpose is clear your intent is too, what makes us worry is the way you feel alone, we keep showing up like day before yesterday in the market..? Find us in your tears, find us in your pain we are always speaking especially when you keep holding those volcanoes within the calmest demure of oceanic scenes -

With Love Granny.

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Image.2 : 'Oh the mess you create my love, as if all the complexity finds its ends in your simplicity, I see you know exactly what to do, when to do and how to do, my righteous queen, be at ease when things go wrong maybe, maybe someone is correcting you too, stop seeing life as a perception see it for the way your do it, live it, being one.

I guess you would have known by now whom am I right? Well I feel so little in front of you because your energy belongs to those of stars and the moon the divine one, this is your demon speaking....sacred huh? I know you aren't rather you are excited and challenged to meet people, to visit places that helps you to set up your own stage and create the magic that you are..

Like a jinx of your victory, I enter to annoy your darkness as it is my place and to soothe your aches and anxious hands with my alluring kisses leaving room for more space so you realise change is not an idea but it lies in you, I will be the cheerleader, the critic, the liar for you to be true in your nature I am your base to the extreme you are..I am your rewarding love for the resilience within you

- In Regards Your Spouse

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Image.3 : Lost? Is that even a world which has yet to find its terms of reality? My favourite warrior out there the vantage you reside in is my gift using it for battle is equivalent to your choice of using it to experience my existence even underneath the lies you found yourself around..

You are right life is daunting may death cut that, but what lies next is far more haunting for your soul to suffer from and I won't let you die till you fulfill the life I gave you my child.

If I have cursed you is for you to earn the blessings attested to the same, I am not playing nor will I let anyone play with you have faith and know whatever is led is come from my hands and walk towards it like you always do closing your eyes, seeing the light and attaining it by becoming one is you key.

You are the fire that walks with both the fire and burns, ashes and smoke there are two things you are one of all the contrasts you the main character you are the movie I have written quite proudly.

- Universe

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Image.4 : Escape is my second name, I know that what lies and what not was never a matter of bother because I speak through my existence, knowing my every move, being awakened and stretched to every inch of my soul and breathe, like the wind I do, and like the water I ground,

I am the memory of a life already lived, many of it adds to the ones I am living right now my journey is unique, different and beyond the queer or crowd because silence never settled in definite spaces rather moves the infinite space itself, I am the dust falling of your hands, I am hope walking through your feet it is my free will, And I am not pricing it for anything or anyone else ever or ever and never.

Life and fate are the players and my competitors they long like the shore for my heart beats thudding with grace of waves, I am not death nor life, nor an idea not a thing that can be said and ceased to believe I am a life happening millions in a while and once in billion time and I will make it to the savor of it like chosen one I volunteered my name to the divines and demons everyone forgets it's the damsel who enthroned as a queen, certainly.

- Yourself ( Ancestor )

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'Source is the one we all are connected with finding a way to it is always unique and why we millions of energies are distorted into uncountable ones to thrive towards' - S

Ps : Let me know did you find yours? ☘️🫁

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[ardentpoop]

choose a side:

ancient judiciary organization that produces and retains the equivalent of magical nukes and brainwashes its powerful soldiers (who are also the nukes) into carrying out whatever atrocities are deemed necessary to “maintain order” without question. keeps the souls of humans who were lucky enough or crafty enough to tip or rig the scales of judgement in their favor trapped in little cells numbly reliving the same memories until the end of time. the memories and/or the general experience can be manipulated at will and if any of the souls exit their cells they are corralled back inside. and no, jack’s remodel doesn’t make it better.

ancient prison realm that functions primarily as a looming threat to the enemies of this story’s most powerful figures. everyone who ends up there, whether they’re deemed innocent or not, expects to have their humanity tortured out of them. home to legions of soldiers led by various ruthless tyrants.

network of heavily armed multigenerational vigilantes who have dedicated their lives to seeking out and killing anyone in their country whom they determine to be “monstrous.” they are trained to do whatever it takes to “finish the job” and avoid detection by standard cops. they develop specialty bullets and weapons for every common type of supernatural being, and because they consider themselves to be heroes, there is a level of “collateral damage” (victimization of innocents) that they convince each other is a necessary and acceptable part of the role. the psychological cost of maintaining this everyday violence bleeds into their social circles and tends to leave them isolated and angry; taking these feelings out on the people they’re hunting.

patriarchal secret society of arcane knowledge-seekers who can leverage their political power to destroy institutions they disapprove of and have a storied history of capturing and experimenting on beings with supernatural abilities. their goal is to exterminate the supernatural much more strategically and effectively than they believe their comparatively ragtag counterparts the hunters can, with the british chapter of this organization advancing so far as to be able to detect and murder a “monstrous” person within minutes of them setting foot in the country. they hoard their records and their weapons in underground military facilities that aren’t meant to be accessed by outsiders.

[sunshine-zenith]

I have work tomorrow so I don’t have time/energy to bang out a full well thought out analysis, but have this — I was thinking about Raine’s storyline involving them faking mind control only to be mind controlled for real later, and I was also thinking about how when they were a kid, they had to attend events on behalf of their school even though they hated it because they’d lose their scholarship. And I thought to myself “what could this have in common with the rest of their arc?”

Control, power, and calculates trade offs of one for the other

As a teenager, Raine had to make a school they didn’t even like look good, for the sake of their education. The fact that their scholarship relies on them making the school look good and not their academic performance (as made clear with how they lost it after publicly rebelling against a leader figure, even though the leader figure praises them for it) is pretty messed up when you think about it.

On the other hand, they’re clearly passionate about Bard magic, and even though it seems like their peers don’t respect Bards, St. Epiderm is presumably a prestigious school. Having attended it would probably look good on whatever the Demon Realm’s equivalent of a resume is.

As an adult, they spent months faking being under a mind control spell, even though it clearly costs them emotionally — not only do they have to push Eda away, they can’t reach out to Hunter, an obviously mistreated child, because that would blow their cover. Their fellow BATs spend months imprisoned before they can bust them out, too, something that probably caused them no end of guilt. And they had to endure Terra’s condescending attitude throughout it all — she talks to them like they’re still a child, and a child she enjoys manipulating at that.

In return, they remain part of Belos’s inner circle, and they’re able to make plays to take him out from within, all while doing what they can to keep their loved ones safe in the long run.

Now though. Now, they have nothing to sacrifice, no power to gain or lose, no control at all. Before, they were able to make the best of a bad situation and had plans to come out on top. They’ve essentially been treated like a puppet for several parts of their life. And now they are one

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part 19

Read on Ao3

Full transparency, I did pull some loose lines from a NSFW of mine. No reason for me to totally reinvent the wheel! Enjoy :) Gale's POV

After the rest of their companions retired, Karlach tentatively walked over to Gale and stuck her head in his room, “Pst,” she waved a hand. “Up for a little late night walk about?” 

Despite his exhaustion and because the orb didn’t loom over him, he obliged and stood, groaning as he rose to his feet. “Gladly.” 

They walked the outskirts of the inn, trailing along the black water’s edge in silence before Karlach broke the silence. “So…” she said, rubbing the back of her neck, “How are you feeling? I mean, now that you’re not the only one facing the possibility of death.” 

Gale released a quick, short puff of air. “Oh, you know, ever the optimist.” He paused, sitting on the flat rocks overlooking the murky abyss. “I wouldn’t wish this fate on anyone, least of all you. It would be selfish to talk about myself when you’ve only learned of your fate.” 

Karlach laughed and shoved his shoulder, “Come off it, mate. I’ve been living on borrowed time and we both knew it, the difference is now it’s been confirmed. It’s not speculation anymore. This engine is going to blow and I’ll be damned if I step foot back in the hells. Besides,” she said, tossing a stick into the lake, “what have I got to offer this world? You were a chosen, an archmage… you have so much to live for and your death is not inevitable.” She looked at him seriously, “You have to reconsider.” 

“I’m just a man,” Gale frowned, running a hand over his weary face, “An imperfect one, with needs, wants, and flaws by the bushel. A fragile vessel in which to place potentially world-ending power.” 

Karlach groaned and stood to pace. “I hate it when you talk about yourself like that. Mystra must have done quite the number on you, for you to think so little of yourself.” 

Gale fiddled with his collar and sleeves, uncomfortable and unaccustomed to such blatant vulnerability. “Well, it’s hard to think highly of yourself once you’ve been reduced to a pitiful excuse to the person you once were. And even more so now that my ex-lover, and goddness of magic, has more or less signed my fate. My end.” 

“You have so much to live for,” Karlach expressed, waving her arms. “What about your friends? Tara? Your mother? Tav?” Gale ignored her when she emphasized Tav’s name and he swallowed hard. “Fine, ignore whatever is going on between Tav and you. What about the rest? If I were in your shoes, there’s no way I’d be willing to kill myself for a God like her.” 

Gale felt his temperature rise and clenched his fists, “It’s not that simple.” 

“Isn’t it?” She walked back and forth, emphasizing her point with broad strokes, “First, she casts you out with no explanation - I mean, yeah, you meddled in a Goddesses affairs, and she could have at least told you what you’d done. Has she ever told you, the source of the orb’s power I mean?” Gale shook his head and bit the insides of his cheek. “Exactly. So, we don’t even know what this thing is and she, an omnipotent being, couldn’t be bothered to offer you the grace of an explanation? You’re not the first human to make such an error, I’d reckon.” 

Gale laughed and shrugged, “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I ought to be angrier… ah… ultimately, it was my fault, my choice - my folly. I thought I knew better than a Goddess… I sought to return one, infinitesimal diamond to her crown. The equivalent of pouring a canteen of water into the Chionthar.” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Sacrificing myself for the rest of the realm feels like adequate punishment.” 

Karlach groaned again, “I won’t sit here and listen to you kick yourself while you’re down, mate. It’s too damn depressing. You made a mistake - a foolish one - and a mistake all the same. If Mystra can’t think of another way to extend her forgiveness other than for you to take your own life, she’s not Goddess worth worshipping. We will find another way.” 

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” Gale volleyed back to her. She smirked and threw a fistful of grass at him. 

“Hey!” He brushed the leaves from his person, the tension leaving him. She certainly knew how to change his mood. “I don’t appreciate being decorated in this shadowed muck, thank you. Shouldn’t I be the one asking you how you’re feeling anyway? How did this become about me?” 

She bellowed, raising her hands to the sky like a penitent. “This is the best day. The best day.” 

Gale balked, his eyes widening. “Karlach. You were just given a death sentence. The best day?” He rose a brow at her, skeptical. 

“You should know better than most how lonely it’s been to not be able to relish in anyone’s company. For years I’ve been starved of the simple pleasures of being alive. I’m so happy for me - in fact, I might be the happiest woman on the sword cost since I may have someone to cuddle up to tomorrow night…” Gale grinned to match her curled smirk. “I didn’t expect to see him here. He was giving me the old eye, right? I’m not making that up?” 

Gale stood and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, “He was most definitely giving you the old eye. I’m happy for you, Karlach. Really I am. I.. I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you how worried I am, though. Dammon’s right - the world is better with you in it.” 

“Listen,” she clasped his shoulders, looking at him seriously, “I’m never going back. If you said I could die right now or live a thousand years in the Hells, I’d choose to go out now with my freedom intact. I don’t expect anyone to understand that - but I’ve been dealt a hand most people don’t have to contemplate playing. You have, too - you should know better than anyone.” 

“It doesn’t have to be forever,” he insisted, “it could give some time to find a proper solution. I have a hard time believing it can’t be managed.” 

“You heard Dammon. There is no solution. It’s hell, or bust. I choose bust.” She shook her head and sighed, stepping away from him to look out at the endless blanketed sky. Her voice quavered, “I don’t want to talk about this now. I’ve been given a huge gift. I can touch people I love for the first time in a decade. And for the first time in a decade there are people I care about all around me. Let me enjoy that, please. I just want to celebrate this. At least for a little.” Gale understood the sentiment deeply and allowed the quiet night to consume them. 

*** 

“Answer me true,” Jaheira said, placing her hands on the table. “Do not lie. The parasite is changing you, isn’t it?” 

Gale stood behind Tav, observing carefully as she navigated the conversation. He was intrigued by her couth and furtiveness, how she leveraged her tone, her word choice, all while holding her cards tightly to her chest. As the days passed, Gale began to recognize how much he admired this in Tav. How they’d been faced with countless dangers, incredible odds, and she rarely faltered in her conviction. It was inspiring and arousing. He was enamored with how diplomatic she was, how tactful, just how cunning… and her talent with magic… it was enough to make him feel unhinged. 

“Well,” Tav said, tracing her finger over the rim of the glass she refused. “I’ve experienced so much since the crash. Who’s to say it’s the tadpole that changed me?” 

Jaheira sneered and Shadowheart giggled, earning her an elbow jab from Karlach who was listening intently. “You speak frivolously. Do you not grasp the cost of what we’re dealing with? Look around you… good people, stranded here two feet in the grave. If we’re to survive I have no choice but to trust you. Can I?” 

“Trust doesn’t matter -�� Tav said cooly and Gale felt his stomach knot, her confidence was electric. “I’ll get the job done. What happened to being the godsend you’d been praying for?” He felt his lips curl into a crooked grin, and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched her, two snakes in an elaborate dance. 

“That was a public display of hope, despite private reservations. I have every reason to be cautious. I’ve traced people like you - people with parasites in their brains. The cult is spreading through the city. Quietly. Quickly. With unsettling deliberation. We tracked them to this ancient village, only to be faced with a man we killed and buried over a century ago. General Kethric Thorm. Remember that name.” 

After speaking with Jaheira, the group made a b-line towards the stair to seek out Isobel’s protection - if they were to venture to Moonrise, they’d need much more than crude torches. Gale was seized with the gravity of it all - how much larger than them this was. Larger than just the tadpoles. It was bleak, and he felt a sinking dread that detonating the orb would be the way. 

He felt a lithe hand on his shoulder and turned his head as they lingered outside of Isobel’s room. “There will be another way,” Tav murmured and gave his upper arm a reassuring squeeze. He felt sick, overwhelmed by her touch, overwhelmed by the possibilities before him. Gale sought to ignore the creeping thoughts, the unholy things he wanted to do to her each time she touched him.

There was no ale, no potion, no feeling on earth that quite compared to when he looked into her eyes or when she touched him.

Her gaze lingered and Gale felt exposed, naked almost as she peered into his soul, as if she was probing the deepest recesses of his mind. As if she could hear his thoughts. 

“How can you be so sure…” he whispered, averting her eyes. He was shocked when he felt her fingers brush his jaw, her gentle grip turning his face to meet hers. 

“Because I know you, and I know myself. Neither of us do particularly well when we are told what we cannot do.” They held one another’s gaze for what felt like a millennia before Shadowheart cleared her throat. 

“As much as I hate to interrupt this precious moment, we have a cult to ambush, remember?” 

They blushed and separated like oil and water. “Right,” Tav said in a strained whisper and they swung open the doors. 

“I didn’t realize I had an audience -“ Isobel said, her white hair iridescent in the shadow's light. “The true soul who’s going to save us all. Pleased to meet you.” 

“Word travels fast.” Tav said, crossing her arms. 

“Hm… it’s a small inn. It’s almost too good to believe. Free from the Absolute’s influence, yet able to walk among cultists... yet, a blessing all the same. Let me guess, Jaheira sent you to beg a protection spell of her favorite cleric.” 

As Isobel manipulated the blue light that projected from her palm, Gale cocked a brow at Shadowheart’s scoff. Bold, to openly denounce someone who was offering their guidance and help. Selunite cleric or not, he’d thought her more clever than that. Old wounds die hard, he supposed. 

“This should help get you closer to the towers… but there are places it won’t help, where the curse is too strong, darker. The cultists are able to traverse the deepest shadows - the harpers are trying to figure it out.” 

“Selunite magic.” Shadowheart scoffed and shook her head, as if to rid herself of the spell. “Dark Lady forgive me.” 

“Good nose - like a nasty little terrier.” Isobel quipped, a clip that would have earned a nasty retort from Shadowheart had there not been a strange, threatening noise that engulfed them.

Gale felt a rumbling, as if the ground itself threatened to split open. He reached out, grabbing hold of Tav’s arm. “Something is wrong.”

** 

As Karlach wiped Marcus’s blood from her axe, Gale wiped his face with a cloth. Shadowheart brushed off her armor and rolled her shoulder’s back. “Well. There’s always something, isn’t there.” 

“The plot thickens,” Karlach said, taking a gulp of water. “What I’d give for some precedented, run of the mill ass-whopping. This all feels… I don’t know. Too heavy.” Gale’s brow furrowed - it wasn’t often she admitted to feeling overwhelmed.  

“This is the same Karlach that fought in the Blood War?” Gale taunted, to which she stuck out her tongue in mock defiance and tossed the bloodied, balled-up cloth at him. 

Gale dodged the throw, holding out his arms as if to say 'See that? This Wizard still has some tricks up his sleeve.' Then, he looked steadily at Tav and his face contorted for a moment - was that a flash of jealousy? He licked his lips, trying to add moisture to his desperately parched mouth. Tav’s knuckles were white as they gripped her canteen.

Gale extended a hand to her, “Care to share?” 

He admired how her skin flushed, the beads of sweat pooling on her forehead and snaked in miniature rivulets down her cheeks. When she handed him the canteen, her fingers brushed against his knowingly and he felt electrified. Before he could reconcile with himself, the words spilled out of him like a bad batch of Hundur sauce. 

“You know… it’s quite thrilling, to fight off such grim creatures as this region throws at us. Especially being at your side,” he paused for a moment, embarrassed yet unable to stop, “I once… read a book that explained in some detail the effect a brush with danger has on one’s desire for… other forms of stimulation.” He swallowed some water, though it did little to alleviate the desert inside, “Have you ever read anything on that subject?” 

He was acutely conscious of the gleeful shock on Shadowheart and Karlach’s faces. He bit down on the inside of his lip and swayed a bit on his feet before relief consumed him as Tav spoke: “Read it?” she said softly, but with a knowing glint in her eyes that made Gale’s heart flutter, “I could have written the damn thing...” he saw her swallow hard, the hallow of her neck calling out to him like a siren song. What he would give to flick his tongue along the vulnerable skin.  

Gale cleared his throat, shifting to conceal his growing arousal. Thank the gods he was wearing a loose robe.”Oh…” he took a deep breath, a lopsided grin betraying his wanton need, “Then might I suggest we pool our knowledge. No sense in letting valuable, first hand experience go to waste.” He tried to steady himself as his mind whirled with salacious details, the lustful heat seeping through his body and soul. He wanted more than her physical body. He wanted all of her - her mind, her soul. To bond with her in a tantric, unworldly experience. “Perhaps it’s just the thrill of our near-undead experience talking, but standing at your side through such darkness and disrepair...my Gods..” Gale’s face softened, his voice cool. He couldn’t quite manage the rest once he realized he saw the same hunger, the ache in her soul.

The words lodged in his throat, unable to be uttered and so they lingered invisibly in the air: it only makes me want you more. 

He wasn't able to spare himself further embarrassment. “Gale - did you just,” Shadowheart broke the silence, “I’m sorry, did you just tell Tav you wanted to have sex with her by citing a book?” Shadowheart giggled, though not out of malice. "After we just murdered a teeming host of winged horrors and a mangled, freaky-cultist? I didn't think you had it in you, to be honest."

The way Karlach began to crack up made his ears burn. The air seemed to crackle, alive and whipping with the impending storm of two bodies desperate to intertwine. Gale and Tav were side by side, he staring down into her enrapturing eyes and allowed himself to indulge in every inch of her face, her body…

Karlach started: “So, Tav, are you going to let the wizard ba-“ 

But before she could finish her sentiment, Jaheira bounded up the stairs, accosting them and Isobel. The conversation would have to wait. 

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Life in Faerûn, Part 1

Disclaimer & Other Stuff [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Abeir-Toril Why it's called the "Forgotten" Realms History | Time & Festivals | Lexicon [1] [2]| Languages | Living in Faerûn [1] [?] | Notable Organisations | Magic | Baldurs Gate | Waterdeep | The Underdark | Geography and Human Cultures ---[WIP]

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Demihumans in common society (ie human society); common is not a daily language; the postal service; some stuff about gender, gender roles and body modification in the Realms; social strata... Plus some details about other things - most of which will be built on in other posts.

Also featuring; what to do with your leisure time in the realms: like literature, theatre, cafés, where to go clubbing aaand the festhalls.

Education: church school, rich idiots at academies, bardic colleges, etc.

And how good medicine is on Toril, if you can't find a spellcaster to heal you. Baths are both mandatory and freely available, we shall have no unwashed peasants in this setting.

-----

Humans are the dominant peoples of the Realms, and the vast majority of cultures one will find oneself in are human cultures. Nine-in-ten people are human, with the one remainder being one of any of the eight non-humans (some of whom are more commonly encountered than others).

Most of what is said here refers to human lands and cultures (which is 99% of the world anyway), and non-human cultures I'll cover in their own write ups.

Humans mostly know the other "common" races - elves, dwarves, halflings and gnomes, whom they call "demihumans" or "humanoids" - as trade partners or as neighbours belonging to minority groups within their home cities.

Demihumans are mostly accepted as fellow citizens within human lands, although the elves are often viewed with mistrust due to the stereotype that they are fickle fey creatures who get uppity when you start tearing down nature and building your cities in their lands. This tolerance is not extended to people who are categorised as monsters, including the Underdark races, tieflings and "goblinkin" - a category that includes orcs, goblins, bugbears and so forth. Half-orcs usually find themselves being sorted into this category, and most have to deal with a lot of respectability politics in order to be accepted into their human family's lands. Elves and dwarves also share this hostility towards orcs, and have a long history of wars with them.

The hin (halflings, to non-hin) and gnomes who find themselves living in human cities are accepted by being seen as useful in the eyes of the Big Folk. Both are known as being useful as couriers, tinkers and repairmen, and for running laundromats. Gnomes in particular are the chief inventors and innovators of the realms, and due to their tendency to be quiet and helpful they are heavily overlooked by others.

Dragonborn are a rare sight, but have mostly built a reputation of respect.

Most humans do not know much about non-human cultures, knowing them only through story, rumour and whatever personal experience they have. Stereotypes are often taken at face value, and being more used to the likes of lightfoot halflings and silver elves, the average person would probably be quite surprised by the different cultural attitudes and colder receptions they'd get from, say, ghostwise halflings or gold elves.

Outside of cosmopolitan areas, where your neighbour can punch you in the face for stupid comments, humans feel no particular pressure to be respectful to demihumans and foreigners, and would roll their eyes at what their Earth equivalents would call "political correctness" if you told them off.

On the nonhumans' end, humans are watched with concern, as they do tend to cause their fair share of disasters that rapidly become everyone's problem.

Many of the people of Faerûn move around a lot; religious pilgrims, traders, immigrants and those bloody adventurers transcend the boundaries of culture and country on a daily basis. For this reason, the Common tongue was invented.

People do not use Common as a daily language, though certain terms may enter daily speech as loanwords. Common is a pidgin trade tongue that grew out of Old Chondathan and Alzhedo (mostly the former), the language spoken in Central and Western Faerûn. It's a simple language, easy to learn and spread around, and useful for exchanging basic information with people from other lands who don't share a language with you - but it's useless for daily life. While it has a written form, most people can't read or write in it.

-

Maps are rare, and if you want an accurate map you'll usually find it in the possession of local rulers and temples (which supply the Realms with most of their scribes and such). Each realm has a book of maps (atlas) available for the use of their military and other officials.

-

If you want to send a package or letter in the Realms, temples often double as a post office. The delivery will be sent from temple to temple until it reaches its destination and will be delivered to the addressee,

-

Most of the Realms does not consider men or women to be inherently lesser or greater than the other and all genders are equal under all laws, though they do have traditional gender roles that it's believed most are better suited for - or at least areas where one gender is more represented than the other. Women dominate in trade and domestic areas, while men dominate in war and crafting, however it isn't considered immoral or unthinkable to see somebody defying the gender norm. If your daughter picks up a sword, learns to use it and runs away to fight dragons your primary concerns are less "oh no, a girl is fighting" and far more likely about the threat to her life and who in the hells is going to help you run the family store now if she has no siblings? Gender roles can be looser or more rigid, depending on where in the Realms you go. Some realms may be Patriarchal or Matriarchal, but it's not the rule and some of these places have grown more egalitarian over time.

Organisations do not generally discriminate in any way based on gender when it comes to their members.

The term for transgender in the Common tongue is sildur. (Elven: Alur, Dwarvish: Thulol, Gnome: Thoulal, Hin: Zalshaer) Transmutation magic is the primary form of body modification and transitioning on Toril, although apparently most people will turn towards divine magic before trusting a wizard to do it. Mages are expensive to hire and viewed with some measure of fear by the common person.

You can petition the gods at their temples for body modifications in return for sufficient offerings, if you don't trust wizards. Be that "I want to be blond" or "I don't want these breasts." Exactly how much and what the god is going to expect in exchange for this varies on the faith of the petitioner and the past relationship between them and the god. Naturally, certain gods are favoured above others for this kind of thing. You're more likely to petition Sune (love and beauty) or Liira (joy and freedom) than the likes of Bane and Shar. ---

Faerûn has its social classes, defined by wealth and family lineage, but they do not have true feudal or caste systems, or any system where upwards social mobility is totally impossible (though the upper classes will certainly do their best to prevent that. (Hi, Waterdeep, I'll give you your own post)). Any commoner could theoretically gain a noble title to the distress of the hereditary nobility. In Sembia if you have enough coin, you can just give yourself a title and everyone has to shut up and go along with it, because money. And that's how most of them got theirs anyway.

Slavery is illegal in all of Faerûn with the exception of Dambrath, Thay, Mulhorand and Unther. The slave trade still exists underground elsewhere, and is quietly overlooked in some places, but it is considered evil by the world at large and somebody found to be a slaver will be met with violent reprisal.

Nobles are... well, nobles. They're rich and have powerful friends and the law is far nicer to them than to the lower classes. They're mostly corrupt and constantly scheming against each other. Their kids go through rebellious stages and do drugs and cause chaos for the commoners and join weird cults.

Landownership outside of kingdoms and such with codified property law generally follows the rules that you can do what you like with whatever land you hold; charge rent, put up signs, make the rules... but you own it only by the tolerance of your neighbours. If they don't like the way you do things, you're quickly going to find yourself in trouble. Also led to my one of my new favourite quotes:

“If you set up an inn and then murder everyone who stops there and keep their goods, even if that’s morally acceptable to you as a devout follower of Bane or of Cyric, it will not be suffered to stand."

Yes! Screw you, edgelord!

Crime and punishment varies depending on where you are, but carries fun stuff like fines, brandings, prison labour, floggings, stockades and executions. I think the concept of the law, "justice" and court proceedings will be left for another post where I will passive aggressively judge a young Astarion and his corrupt magistrate ways.

-

Leisure:

Literature: Literacy is a hit and a miss in the Realms. Some people prize literacy, and it's common enough that broadsheets and newspapers are in business and PCs can read and write by default; but there are still others who can't and couldn't care less if they can't read some bard's chicken scratch. The ruling class in particular gets a little nervous about the idea of a fully literate populace, since that would allow them to be educated, and better suited to communicate with each other and get ideas. That bit varies though. Cormyr, for example. has encouraged its population to learn to read and get educated for several reasons including making it harder for the country to be infiltrated by enemy spies.

Chapbooks are serially published cheap little paperback things. They contain all sorts of things, like children's tales, donated recipes, political opinions, random bits of advice from people on trades and such, gossip from other countries disguised as news, memoirs, and smut. The rating of that last bit varies in rating. In Waterdeep they favour romantic stories over sex and over in Amn they're just flat out publishing porn about the goddesses of love and sensuality, Sune and Sharess - with the full support and encouragement of their churches.

The most popular genre of actual novels is the personal travel logs of explorers and other wanderers. The Realms are flooded with such books.

There are also non-fiction books available. Philosophy (which is written through the lens of religion, as a rule); books on rulership (controlled by the noble class, sometimes outlawed); and on business (which are subject to attempted control by the likes of merchant guilds)

Book printing is a sketchy business. Authors may one day discover that there are whole new best selling reprints of their books they've never been informed of (or paid for). Plagiarism is also a common problem.

Theatre: Aside from actual theatres, there are a few ways to catch a play.

Traveling caravans are known to sport a few actors, who can make a bit of extra money for the group by putting on a performance as well as advertising the stock their caravan carries (product placement everywhere). Most bards have the "classic" scenes of famous plays memories, so as to perform them on demand.

Theatres often hire doppelgangers, as their shapeshifting ability is very useful in realistically portraying monstrous characters too dangerous to actually hire. Of course there's also this little issue where your doppelganger hirelings may start killing people outside of work hours, but eh. The show must go on.

There are also puppet shows like Punch-and-Judy called Oldboots - because the shows are actually done by wearing worn old boots on your hands instead of actual puppets.

Establishments: Alehouses - Pubs and bars, existing primarily for those looking for an alcoholic beverage. The term "barkeeper" is unknown to Torilians, who would refer to them as tavernmasters. The word "mug" and "pint" also do not exist. Inns and Alehouses don't have menus, you're eating whatever's being cooked.

Dining-house or Feasthall - Known to us as a restaurant. Establishments are also known by the Chondathan word skaethar which is used as a formal term in Common in other parts of the world. In larger inns, one might find a section of the building that acts as a dining-house. Most of the time the menu is a chalk board on the wall, informing customers what's fresh. The really fancy ones, visited by the rich (or those who want to seem so) get paper menus printed by machine or made with fancy calligraphy.

Kaeth house - A café. Coffee is known in the Realms as kaeth or kaethae - or "fireswill", colloquially. The drink is rare and expensive northwards of Calimshan, but is available in large cosmopolitan trade cities, as far North as Waterdeep. Calishite coffee is taken black with nuts and spices like ginger. Sembian and Chessentan styles of coffee are often mixed with chocolate and liqueur. In lands where coffee is widely known, they tend to have their own drinking utensils and customs around it, but in the north it's just served in tankards. Hot chocolate is also on the menu. Teas exist, but are less popular and are seen as a medicinal drinks.

Temples of Liira - The goddess of joy and revelry charges her followers with hosting parties and making everyone they meet is having fun and feeling happy. As such, going to her temples is kind of like going clubbing. The main hall of the temple is a dance hall, with other rooms branching off to include lounges and a well-stocked bar. Liirans also offer dance lessons.

Temples of Sune - As devotees of the goddess of beauty, Sunites are obligated to give you a makeover if you ask, so this is a good destination for a haircut, pedicure or fashion consultation or whatever. As Sune is also the goddess of love, Sunites can also be asked for matchmaking services. The church also sponsors schools and classes teaching all forms of art (including music, song, performance arts, etc).

Festhalls - Try not to confuse these with feasthalls, or you're going to have an embarrassing time. Ah Festhalls, where to start. They're spaces considered outside of society; everyone leaves their real life, identity, social rank and all of that outside and comes here to just let go for a few hours. Festhalls will provide you with a warm bed for the night; they'll wash, mend and dry your clothes; they have hot baths and spa services; you can dance to music, or just lounge around enjoying a good drink and some company; it's also something of a casino, where you can play cards and gamble or even just play normal board games or something... And they're strip clubs, BDSM scenes and specialty brothels! You got a kink none of the brothels can scratch? Festhalls provide and cater to goddamn anything that turns you on, so long as it's legal, safe, sane and consensual.

---

Education: What counts as an education varies from place to place and depends on what the realm desires of its public. Some places will emphasise the commoners knowing the basics of military drills, the chain of command and such in case of the need for a levy. Other places, like trade centres such as Waterdeep, prioritise maths and literacy.

In most of the Realms - especially in rural areas, a basic informal tutoring involves teaching basic maths, local laws and customs and some basic knowledge of the alphabet and market/road signs.

Most schooling is done by priests, which is free to the public. Unless you're dealing with the sketchier gods or the ones with deeper mysteries, all clergy are also happy to teach everything about their faith when asked. While some may obscure less savoury details, no follower of any god will outright lie about the details of their faith, as that is considered a sin.

If you're not rich you can get a basic education by hiring "low sages" - the likes of book shop owners, hedge mages, retired adventurers and other people with access to information who can share with you what they know. Of course, what they know may not be the most accurate information in the world.

You can also purchase some basic short paperback school books.

Most trades guilds will provide a basic education in that trade in exchange for a coin or two. Although some of this will simply just be "don't do this at home, hire a professional." They also hold classes open to the public now and then.

Schools as educational organisations also exist and are usually founded by bards or monastic orders in large cities. Most schools and academies are simply a handful of ageing, well educated people with a house who provide lessons for enrolled children there - though larger establishments exist.

For nobles there are Academies, which will also teach their children social etiquette and other things the upper class needs to worry over lest their reputation drop so low it falls into the Lower Planes and dies in the River Styx. Sometimes these Academies are actually just social clubs for young rich idiots to get drunk, do drugs and have orgies in, but that's not so common and gets shut down when it does happen.

While the rich and powerful have the opportunity to send their darlings to Academies, they'd rather not. It's... embarrassing. It means you can't afford a private tutor (or that your darling is a brat with a personality that suggests they're a demon spawned in the Abyss).

Bards are usually trained at Bardic Colleges - these vary in quality and specialty (some may be better for certain instruments, for example). The only requirements for entry are that one passes an audition, impressing their interviewers enough that they are taken on.

Civic information is typically freely available to anyone who asks for it, and courtiers and scribes are obligated to share the information.

---

Medicine: Medicine is primarily the practice of demihumans, who've been around for much longer than humans and had more practice. They also tend to hold the market, finding a place for themselves in human lands by offering their services as physicians and herbalists.

Faerûnians have an almost Earth-level awareness of human anatomy; the organs and their function, the function of blood and the cardiovascular system as well as the risks of shock and infections are common knowledge. While the concept of microbes and spread of disease is unknown, the importance of hygiene in staying healthy is known, and there are establishments that offer baths and laundry services to travellers and homeless people. The filthy unwashed peasant is not a thing on Toril. Plagues are not as disastrous as they were in Earth history - most households and communities will avoid being totally wiped out, but they are terrible and mysterious things and the afflicted are avoided.

Medicines as we know them - called "physics" - are expensive and hard to get ahold of, and most people rely on herb lore or priests like clerics and druids. Herbal anaesthetics are widely used. Cauterisation is a common practice, and many people have scars from it.

Most trade towns have apothecaries, be they part of a shrine or a business.

Physicians are often in conflict with divine spellcasters, since they're competing over the same market.

Some diseases are known by different names in the Realms: Windchill fever - Pneumonia Sallar - Typhus Whitewasting - Leprosy Foamjaws - Rabies And a heart attack is known as a heartstop.

[astrojulia]

PAC: Your witchy side

~Your natural magical skills

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DISCLAIMER. These general free readings are made in good faith for entertainment purpose. This pick a pile is very specific and direct, even certain people came into my mind when doing it... so I already say that it doesn't seem to be for everyone.

How to pick a pile

When you have different cards to choose from in pile 1,2,3… look at each of those cards. Wait until someone reminds you of a memory. Perhaps a character’s outfit resembles one of your own. It is this pile that has its message. What if they all remind me of something? Go for the one with the strongest memory, one might look like her earring but another might be the favorite candy you got from your grandma when you vacationed at her house. But what if none reminds me of something? Take a deep breath and wait a little longer, without charging yourself or creating worries. Relax, some will awaken some memory in you, I promise!

Pile 1 - My Melody

(Justice - Queen of Pentacles - Ten of Wands - Two of Pentacles - Four of Swords - Eight of Wands)

You are most likely an air witch with a focus on magic involving people, technical knowledge, and extensive research. Therefore, you must enjoy practicing astrology and manipulation magic. Apart from that, as a witch, you believe that you must first give in order to receive, and that everything you receive has the same weight as what you gave. You believe in equivalent exchange, alchemy, and the idea that the effort you put in will determine what you receive.

Your primary area of study is the physical realm, specifically prosperity, abundance, and fortune. You concentrate on the material aspects of your magical practices, performing magic that involves your body and personal belongings. You have a precise way of speaking, addressing your spirituality with respect but also with authority, as if you were the head of a different organization. You admire your guides, respecting and listening to them, but you don't feel inferior to them.

You manage to produce excellent results with your magic, bringing abundance to your home, but it sometimes becomes overwhelming for you. This could be due to your guides having dense energy. As a young witch, you may find it challenging to handle the amount of energy they transmit, leading to instances like an overflowing potion. In other words, even if you try to control the outcome, what you receive is often more than you can handle, whether it's positive or negative.

That's why you should practice more restrained magic. You need to choose between focusing on one aspect or another. Either you ask for love or you ask for prosperity; you can't pursue both with this type of magic. Start by engaging in more basic activities and communicating with "smaller spirits" such as children or fairies—whatever you prefer.

As for magical objects, you can have a diverse range, including daggers and swords, as well as white clothes and furry animals like rabbits, foxes, and dogs with long hair (preferably white animals). Additionally, you feel a certain connection with the cycle of life, understanding that things die and are reborn.

Your shadow side, your greatest temptation, is the desire to curse others. Many times, you want to see those who have wronged you suffer and contemplate whether you should act on it. You genuinely wish to return the harm that was once inflicted upon you.

On the other hand, your light side reveals that your primary focus is yourself. This self-focus is both your greatest strength and power. You have the ability to learn and study quickly, initiate new cycles promptly, and bounce back when things go wrong without being harmed in the process.

Pile 2 - Kuromi

(Judgment - Page of Wands - The Fool - The Devil - Page of Cups - The Emperor - Ten of Pentacles)

You're probably a generational witch or, at the very least, a member of a cult or coven. In other words, you're not a solitary practitioner and have been on this path for a while. You're deeply interested in matters related to the soul, rebirth, and karma.

Your studies now encompass new areas that you've never explored before, such as herbology and astrology. There's something you have little knowledge of but find highly intriguing.

Your greatest skill lies in the freedom to pursue whatever you set your mind to. Your magic knows no bounds, and you have the ability to accomplish anything you desire. It appears that your specialty lies in magic involving glamour, love, and relationships. You excel at making people like you or even fall in love with you. This can be through a well-chosen word that wins them over or by adding a special touch to food.

An area you should focus on studying is shadow work. Personally, I find this topic too personal to discuss, but it is what the cards reveal. It suggests that you should address unresolved issues from your past. You have traumas and situations that are currently influencing you in negative ways, fostering destructive desires. This cannot continue as it is. You need to learn to free yourself from these chains and rid yourself of greater dangers.

A magical object you can keep with you is a goblet of water, but it can also include fish figurines or an aquarium. Additionally, letters you wrote or received in the past, childhood items like dolls and stuffed animals, can provide you with strength.

As I mentioned before, your darkest side is the desire to destroy everything and start over again, hoping for a "better" outcome. You believe that if you have the power, everything will improve, free from problems and pain. You possess an explosive and uncontrollable urge that can bring harm to others and yourself.

On the flip side, your light side emerges through your involvement in a group. You have people who love you, and you reciprocate that love. You strive to do your best for them, presenting your finest version. You protect and support them, fulfilling their needs. You rarely find yourself alone, and the strength of the group becomes your own.

Pile 3 - Cinnamoroll

(Four of Pentacles - The Hermit - Seven of Cups - Three of Pentacles - Strenght - Ace of Pentacles - Wheel of Fortune)

You are most likely an earth witch who focuses on material well-being. You are a zealous and capricious person. You take pride in your appearance, especially when it comes to your hair and jewelry. You are the type of witch who enjoys casting spells using your hair, colors, and accessories. You don't conform to societal norms, but you respect traditions. If necessary, you are willing to engage in mischief as a response to being hurt by others.

Your current path is a solitary one. You are discovering things that only you can comprehend, unable to share them with others who wouldn't understand. It feels as if you are keeping a significant secret and are on a journey to uncover its meaning. You are also pursuing a dream, striving to make it a reality.

You enjoy working with potions and food, crafting spells from scratch using your own ingredients. You are the type of person who can serve others their own poison without hesitation. You possess a repertoire of tricks up your sleeve, knowing the right ingredient for a recipe or the appropriate spell for any situation that arises.

It's time for you to focus on forging new paths for yourself, working with a small group to create something greater for everyone. Additionally, you can start studying flowers and aquatic herbs.

A magical object you can keep with you is images of large animals such as lions, whales, or camels—strong animals that command presence and whose names are generally recognized. Nets can also be beneficial to you, as something you can use to capture things, similar to a Dreamcatcher (although you're aware it's primarily decorative) or, if you prefer, pictures of spiders.

Your shadow side is your ambition—an insatiable desire to possess everything while doing little to attain it. It's as if you planted flowers but never watered them, allowing them to wither on their own. You desire more, craving abundance, but it's unlikely that you'll attain everything you want, which may lead to disappointment.

Your light side is your profound faith and belief in your spirituality. You likely have a daily routine that involves prayer or engaging in magical practices, making you naturally powerful. By allowing your guides to direct you when you're uncertain, you are able to navigate your path.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[bloodycyrano]

I come bearing dragon age trivia and headcannons for this spooky season!

So, the equivalent of Halloween in the realm of Thedas would probably be "All souls day", or "Funalis"

It was named Funalis originally, and dedicated to the old god, Dumat, God of silence. Yet, when Dumat fell victim to the blight and rose as the first archdemon, the vast majority turned a blind eye to any remainder of what it once was for the old god. Thus renaming it "All Soul's Day", to be celebrated as a day in somber remembrance of the dead.

In northern parts of Thedas, All Soul's Day is spent dressed as spirits for parades after dark. And the Chantry uses the day to honor the death of Andraste, with public fires that mark her own burning, and plays that depict her death.- Creepy.

Now for the headcannons.

Zevran- Zev is from Antiva, which is up north. I have full confidence that our favorite assassin dresses in full costume on All Soul's Day and tries to start drinking games with the rest of the party.

Alistair- He.. takes time to himself. He's quieter than usual, and you realize why when you find him at the edge of camp. He's having a drink by the river and practically cradling Duncan's blade. He's carved the names of the Wardens lost at Ostagar into a tree. He pours one out for his fallen friends and spends the rest of the day trying to crack jokes like usual - but you can tell he's just thinking about the battle again.

- Zevran takes extra care to try and cheer up Alistair. Perhaps begrudgingly; it works.

Oghren- takes any and all opportunities to get drunk. He's interested somewhat in learning about the Parades in Antiva and Orlais and such, but mostly just because "Whatever it is the elf is doing" looks fun. I do believe he'd take the time to sit and think about Branka.. She was his wife, and he did care for her all things considered.

Sten- the Qunari prayers for the dead. He's quiet, he's by himself. He doesn't speak a word to anyone, but if you get close enough when he doesn't realize you're there, you can hear him praying. He looks sad, beneath the stoic exterior. But there is solace in his practice all the same.

Leliana- She has her prayers for her mother and for Andraste, but she's also fairly lighthearted about things. She probably wears a mask for the occasion, and is more than happy to tell tales and sing songs about the holiday. She will take time on her own, however. To pray and pick her mother's flowers.. Andrastes Grace.

Wynne- Wynne prays. She's probably fairly quiet, all things considered. She wonders when she'll finally pass.. If the spirit will leave her on a day like this one. She isn't afraid, but she is.. contemplative. She likes to observe the practices of everyone else on the holiday, quietly from her own tent. Perhaps she judges quietly, but she also finds amusement from some of the antics from Zevran, and Oghren. She's even delighted to find that Alistair is able to cheer up a bit.

Morrigan- She isn't going to be bothered with odd practices from her odd party members. Morrigan finds the culture to be interesting, but aside from that, she sees no need for strange beliefs. She doesn't care for Leliana's tales or songs of Andraste, and she certainly isn't going to dress up. This being said, she does secretly enjoy watching and observing from her tent, off at the edge of camp. She probably goes off on her own for some sort of magical practice, or even changes shape to frolic in the woods with the spirits.

Shayle- Shayle doesn't know what to do with the holiday.. But they have a list of names. Names from the Cadash thaig, and bitter memories of being reunited with Caridin. They think they will pray for Caridin, and maybe even the family they do not remember.

The warden- My warden is Dalish.. I believe she covered her mirror with a black cloth and got up early that morning to hunt. She doesn't like using bows, but Tamlen always did. He insisted upon it, even. And with his absence, she still felt the pull to do so. Who was she to argue with a spirit? She felt a particular guilt this time, knowing what he had become. Knowing she might've been able to save him. But the show must go on, and the mask must remain. She doesn't let the others see her suffer. Instead, she pushes herself to partake in whatever her companions wish of her. The only one who seems to see past it is Sten, but he will not disrespect her by calling attention to it. What would the need be, anyways? And he has his own prayers to attend to.

- When given the opportunity, the warden dresses up as the archdemon.. Perhaps in poor taste.

Barkspawn- The best pupper has a costume. Barkspawn has been dressed up as a Griffon! He tried to eat the fake beak..

[rmjagonshi]

Chp 26: Pillow Talk

On AO3

Stanford blinked. Standing for several long moments without speaking as his mind processed this new information, piecing together the little he understood. 

He’d made a deal with Bill practically a lifetime ago. At that time, Bill could enter his mind as he pleased. Control and alter his mind at will. Their deal effectively linked them together, forming an open channel between the mindscape and the real world. So long as their deal remained, both He and Bill were beholden to its rules. Meaning while Bill could enter his mind freely, outright possession was only possible if Stanford lost conscious control of his frontal cortex. Without a portal, Stanford himself was the only channel Bill had to directly affect the physical world.

Then, Jeselbruam inserted a metal plate in his head. Specifically to act as a barrier to prevent Bill from reading his mind or possessing him. Breaking that open channel and throwing Bill back into the mindscape. The rift opened a hole through spacetime, allowing Bill to obtain physical form and far more power, but at a cost. Bill was no longer able to enter the mindscape at all. Even if he made a deal and was able to open a channel between the nightmare realm and someone's mind, he had to relinquish his physical body to do it.

But Bill was fully in the physical realm now. Whatever that entailed and said about their lives being intertwined from the beginning, Stan was human now.  The channel between the nightmare realm and reality was closed. He had no direct link to the mindscape anymore than Stanford himself had. Well, no mindscape except his own through meditation or the Evlokna Ritual. 

Bill was at his strongest during Weirdmaggedon….right? Stan was wearing the chord of unicorn hair and moonstone, effectively sealing his magic…for the most part. 

The only other way Bill could infiltrate his mind was in the dreamscape. As evident by Stan’s past efforts to ease his nightmares. They were effectively cut off from each other unless Bill projected his thoughts. Not unlike a ham radio broadcasting into the ether to any open receiver. 

But Stanford could do it too. And more than that. Stanford could infiltrate Stan’s mindscape just as Bill had done to him. 

Stanford blinked, taking two steps closer to the bed and probing the channel in his mind he’d labeled as Bill’s. He followed the channel back to the source, vaguely sensing a crumbing Mysteryshack around him. He couldn’t see it. He was awake and so was Stan, but he could sort of ‘feel’ it. In a way.

He didn’t bother looking through doors or pry up floorboards to look for memories. He went straight to the fine motor control center and fiddled with Stan’s neural pathways. A pinch here and….

“Ow!, Yeah, that makes my feet go numb. Congratulations. Please undo that now.”

Stan leaned back and tried to wriggle his toes and flex his feet to relieve the pins and needles feeling to no avail. 

Stanford backtracked, undoing precisely what he’d messed with, and did the mental mindscape equivalent of sitting down on the floor in a huddled crouch.

He’d affected Stan’s mind. No. He’d affected Stan’s body through directly affecting his mind. 

Without touching him.

Tha same way Bill had done to him… 

What. The Fuck!? 

It wasn’t something that had been possible before…well, before. He hadn’t ever thought to delve into Bill’s mind while they were research partners. It seemed rude. And it wasn’t like he could experiment while he was jumping from multiverse to multiverse. And Stan. Well, it was hard to describe what, if any, telepathic potential twins had. Nothing he was consciously aware of at any rate. No, this telepathy they had was only possible now that Stan had a body in the physical realm. Was only possible now that Bill had his abilities. His memories.  

Or rather, now that all the overlapping aspects of Bill had caught up with each other. And he was…whole?

“How?”

Stan smirked. “How are ya doin’ that, or how does that make ya special?”

“Both. Either.”

Stan shrugged. “Don’t know how yer doin’ that. Been tryin’ ta figure it out since the storm. I got a couple a theories, but none that I can actually test. Least not now. Rules and limitations of reality and all. And I never understood the ins and outs of the cosmic threads of creation. They’re fun to play with, but really boring when you get into the nitty gritty.” 

Stanford gave a harrumph, prompting Stan to finish his thought.

“As fer why it makes ya special….it doesn’t.” Stanford’s face fell, and Stan scrambled to fill in the gap. “Not alone. But it's certainly a factor.” He stretched, wincing as his shoulders popped and his back made a sound like a branch snapping.

Stanford rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air in exasperation.“Then. What. Does?”

“Aside from what I already listed?”

Stanford made a sweeping gesture, hoping Bill would please elaborate on what exactly all of this meant. It was already pushing the fringes of Stanford’s understanding of how the world functioned. Threads of creation? Was Bill talking about String Theory?  

Stan held up his hand, counting off points in rapid fire. 

“You laugh at my jokes. You indulge my schemes. You plug holes in said schemes. You’re the life of the party when yer drunk; no one I’d rather sing karaoke with.” 

Stanford rolled his eyes and groaned while Bill waggled his eyebrows and gave him a wink. 

“You’re amazing with the kids. I was terrified of them at first, but you jumped right in with both feet. You keep pushing past failure even if it's impossible. Hell, you make impossible, possible. Serious!” Stan shifted and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “There was a catastrophic failure in the portal’s schematic that would have resulted in a back flow of energy that would have either collapsed your universe into the second dimension or caused the hellscape I was stuck in to erase itself. Boop! Gone! I couldn’t figure it out. ‘Ol Jhesel couldn’t figure it out. Part ‘o the reason she jumped ship and escaped to fifty-two.” 

“You said you could fix it. Gonna be honest, I didn’t think you could do it. I loved that you wanted to try, but I was sure it wasn’t gonna work. Days pretending to be you and playing house with Mcgucket. Guys whip smart; he knew immediately something was off but didn’t say nothin’. Remind me ta see what I can do to fix his….” 

Stan gestured to his temple with a remorseful grimace on his face. “Everything. Least I can do. Anyway……”

Stan met Ford’s eyes then, soft smile pulling at his lips. “Then you come out of your mindscape and in one afternoon, solve the whole thing. Just like that. I felt so dumb and so proud at the same time. I was already head over heels by then, but I finally admitted it to myself when you showed me the math.”

Stanford huffed, hiding his blush by turning away to mindlessly dig through the scattered pile of clothes on the bed. Stan saw it anyway.

“Every time you sneeze, your lips vibrate together and you sound like a question quail. It's the most adorable thing.” His voice grows wistful, soft. “You always knew how to cheer me up after Dad was an asshat. You were always the one to help bandage me up after a rough match or a tussle with Crampelter. Figured with all the practicing you’d gotten with me, you’d go on to be a doctor or some shit. You stole booze for us from Dad’s cabinet when Carla dumped me. You covered for me when the police came to question me about Downe’s van.” 

He was rambling now, voice raising an octave. “You don’t quit. You see the best in everyone. Even when they don’t deserve it. Especially when they don’t deserve it. You are the best challenge I’ve ever had at 3D chess. You actually liked my comics, even when no one else did. You encourage me to write them even if the only person I was writing them for was you. You are the single coolest person I’ve ev….”

Stan wasn’t quick enough to dodge the wadded up crusty boxers aimed at his head. “OK, fine! You’re enamored, I got that much from your pathetic excuse for an arts and crafts journal!” Stanford huffed, grabbing the single most dirtiest sock he could find and throwing that too. It missed and grazed Stan’s shoulder. “You’ve made your point, now answer my question.” Stanford snapped, reaching for another article of clothing to lob.

“What was the question?” Stan grinned, face still half covered with the pair of black boxer briefs with little constellations on them. Stanford lobbed another sock, hitting Stan square in the chest. Too bad that one was clean. 

“What makes me ‘unique in the universe’ as you say?” He snarled. 

Stan pulled the boxers off his head and met Ford’s eyes. “What makes you special? What makes you different from all the other iterations of you across all of time and space?”

Stanford threw up his hands “Yes!” He was beyond exasperated. 

“Nothing.”

Stan promptly took a flip-flop to the face. 

The giggle that emanated from Stan sounded eerily echoey and high pitched. And Stanford definitely didn’t shiver hearing it. “Honest, there are countless iterations of you that are virtually the same. Maybe some minor differences like you were the younger twin, or had no twin, or there was one where we were triplets and Fiddleford was the third…”

“Then why me?”

“Why You?” 

“Why choose me to try and build the portal? Why pick me?”

“Besides the fact you were helping me achieve a means to an end?”

Stanford threw his hands in the air with wide eyes and a snarl. “Yes!” 

“You were there…? And Could? And you’re the one who summoned me as I recall.”

“Not….” Ford threw another dirty sock ball, “why are you being purposefully obtuse?”

Stan’s grin was less than mirthful. “You’re the one being obtuse! How about asking the question you actually want to ask.”

But Stanford stubbornly kept his jaw clenched and chose instead to try and sort out the dirty clothes from what little remained of the clean.  

“Ok fine. You aren’t asking, but I’m gonna say this, and yer gonna listen.” Stan stood, pushing himself off the mattress and teetering on his feet. Stanford jumped to stabilize him, laundry diversion forgotten. He let his legs and back take on Stan’s weight. “ooohhhh, whoakay…..maybe standing isn’t gonna happen right yet.”

Stanford felt a huff of warm air across his ear, and arms weakly wrap around his waist. They stood for a short while, while Stan regained his balance. Stanford pushed him back to the bed, losing his footing and being pulled down with him. He landed with his knee buried in Stan’s thigh, only feeling kind of guilty at Stan’s groan of pain. Especially when he felt Stan pull him up and over so Stanford straddled his hips. He was beginning to doubt that Stan was really as bad off as he acted.  

He purposely ignored Stan’s half-hearted hip roll, instead forcing his weight down and pinning Stan’s arms. He briefly had a sick thought of tying Stan’s ankles to the bed, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort when Stan made no attempt to escape his hold. And despite his lazy thrusts, there was no heat to accompany them. 

He loomed over Stan and glared into his eyes. All at once both seeing and not seeing the monochrome Mystery Shack and its ever changing labyrinth of halls and doors. He could see its singular occupant, hiding down in the very core of the shack. No. Not hiding. Stabilizing. Chains descended down from all corners of the Shack, all meeting at a singular lode point. Stan himself. Or Bill. Because there weren't two entities there. Only one. One that couldn’t decide what it wanted to be and something that couldn’t be everything it wanted to be. Ever shifting and fluctuating like the structure that protected it. Never stagnant. Never stable. His mind in utter turmoil. He could sympathize.    

He blinked and focused on Stan’s chocolate brown eye again. 

Stan signed, “Okay, look, I don’t exactly know whas goin’ on, or why. I got ideas but nothin’ solid. And you are picking up on this hella fast and that is terrifying enough as it is. But really, that isn’t what yer askin’. Ya wanna know why you? Why you caught my eye?”

“Yes!”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” 

Stanford felt a set of fingers trail across his collar and down his abdomen. A quick check to either side confirmed that Stan’s hands were still pinned. Guess body manipulation was a two way street. 

Stanford sighed. “If you say something sappy, I’m gonna punch you.”

Stan grinned, “Do it then. I’m gonna.” 

But before he could utter another word, Stanford covered his mouth, nose mashed between his fingers. 

“Mmmmhrrtmmmnn, offmhr…………”

Stanford yanked his hand back like he’d been burned. “EW, what is wrong with you?” He grimaced, wiping off the drool from his hand on Stand chest hair.  

“You. Yer what’s wrong with me. Always been you, even before I was me…”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”  

“Sure don’t. Know how many people, how many beings I’ve met and been with? Not one turns my head like you. Not Carla, Not Jessie, Not Edalyn, sorry, ‘Marilyn’, Not Rick…no one.”

Stanford frowned. “Why though…?”

Bill rolled his eye and signed, sinking into the mattress. “We keep talkin’ in circles. I just said why…”

“Okay, fine…you said why. I just don’t understand why. Your reasons don’t make sense.”

Stan heaved a sigh large enough to nearly throw Ford off him. “You. I can’t predict you. Thought I could. Thought I knew my brother inside and out. But you surprised me. Changed things up. Changed the plan. I think I know what you’re gonna do and then you go and do something I can’t predict. I think I know you, then you go and pull the rug out from under me. You constantly surprise me.”

Stan yawned loudly, feeling his jaw pop. He groaned. “Fer now thou’, ‘m tired. Full ‘n tired ‘n sore. So unless you wanna…” Bill rolled his hips, but there was still no heat behind it. Stanford felt little more than a soft bulge against his ass. 

It was a topic best left avoided for now.  

Stanford leaned back, putting his full weight on Bill’s pelvis and grinding down.“You wont get far with that.”

Stan groaned again and swallowed hard. “‘M old, cut a guy some slack.”

“Excuses…” Stanford smirked, but rolled off anyway. He moved to the open duffel on the floor and pushed the whole clothing pile into it. He’d sort out clean and dirty tomorrow. Might even do laundry if the hotel offered services. 

He pulled the bedding back and placed black light in the middle of the sheets, turned it on and covered it back up with the covers. 

“I wont bother asking if you want me to disinfect yours…” he said, kicking his boots off and tucking them just under the bed frame for easy reach. 

“Nerd, the sheets stink of detergent. These ‘r probably cleaner than the ones on the boat.”

“Can’t be too careful.”

“Whatever…..” Stan kicked at the blanket until it came loose enough for him to pull it up and over himself. Mostly anyway. He let his body sink into the mattress, shifting around the one loose spring digging into his shoulder blade. He closed his eye and let his mind drift. aches and pains slowly easing into one dull thrum. He was faintly aware of the radiator kicking on again, and of running water. There was a tv or radio on in one of the adjacent rooms. He could kinda hear music if he strained. The distant ‘ding’ of the elevator. His breathing grew deeper, and slower. 

Stan jerked when he felt something slap his thigh. 

“You’re going to regret sleeping with your dentures in.”

“Lemme sleep, nerd.” he groused, pulling the blanket up over his head. 

“I’m just saying..”

“You should sleep too.”

Stanford hummed but otherwise just sat on the edge of the other mattress, fiddling with the frayed threads of the blanket. Yeah, they were probably safe, but it wasn't a bad idea for one of them to keep watch. Being in the middle of the bermuda triangle had its perks. At least there they didn't have to worry about someone breaking into their room at night. Stanford’s eyes scanned the room, habitually checking for any hidden panels, doors or cameras. There was nothing there.

Nothing obvious at any rate, but he wasn’t sure until he took apart the television. He hadn’t seen anything in the lobby or in the hall that worried him, and the hotel itself was in a walled compound. Still, he’d been on the wrong end of crime syndicates too many times in the multiverse to be completely at ease until he’d checked everything. 

The door was locked and bolted, and the door stopper firmly in place. The vent panels were all tightly secured and looked as though they hadn't been removed in some time. There was nothing under the sink in the bathroom save for some extra toilet paper. No closets. Just a rickety set of drawers that was large enough to maybe hold a shirt and a thin pair of pants, and not much else. All empty mind, except for a bible. The window was locked, and they were high enough up that it was unlikely anyone would come through the window. 

Stanford’s eyes flicked to the TV again, debating on taking it into the bathroom to disassemble or not.    

“Stop pacin’ and sleep. I ain’t above makin’ ya.”

Stanford stopped mid step, unaware he had even begun pacing.

There was a beat of silence before, “Now poindexter. Don’t make me make you…”

Stanford sat on the bed closest to the wall and sighed before leaning back on the pillows. The sheets were a bit scratchy, but smelled of cheap floral soap. Stan was right, they were cleaner than the ones on his own bed on the Stan O War. And they smelled familiar. Almost like the soap their Mom used to use. Faint, but kind of like lotion and lavender. It was both calming and unnerving at the same time. 

He closed his eyes and tried to relax. Tried to let his body grow heavy. He was tired, but his mind wouldn't stop. It wasn’t even like he had any thoughts to blame. His mind was blank; horrifically aware of everything in his surroundings. Every flash of light, creek of the floorboards. Everytime that damned TV from down the hall blasted music. He checked the door…? Yes. And the vents. Right. No closets….

“Sixer, jeezus, jus, comere..” 

Stanford turned his head to see the faint shadow of Bill reaching out his arm across the gap between the beds. He hesitated.

“I…don’t think…”

“Just ta sleep. I swear. We’re safe here. Can’t see much, but we’re not in danger.”

Stanford took a breath. “Promise?”

“Yes, now come here.”

Stanford rolled out of his bed, grabbing his boots and tucking them neatly just under the edge of Bill’s bed. He slipped in beneath the blankets and felt a thick arm wrap around his waist. His face was mushed against coarse hair and something hard settled against his glasses. The moonstone nodes still held firm woven in the unicorn hair braid. He removed his glasses and hooked them in the collar of his shirt. Reaching down, he unholstered his pistol and tucked it under the pillow, his left hand gently curled around the grip. 

Stanford inhaled, feeling some of Bill’s chest hairs tickle the inside of his nose. It was strange. He should be smelling the cheap soap from the bathroom, or the detergent from the sheets, but all he could smell was a deep woody musk. Stan’s cologne. The same stupid cologne he’d worn for decades; pilfered from some storefront on the boardwalk back home. 

Against his better judgment, Stanford pressed closer, sighing when he felt a set of fingers trail up the back of his shirt. 

They lay in calm silence for a few moments. Stan had all but started snoring, nose pressed into Ford’s scalp. 

“Why am I special to you?” Stanford murmured, lips moving against Stan’s skin. 

“Jus’ are. Bill didn’t know why and Stan doesn’t care why.”

Stanford hummed. “And what do you think?”

Stan chuckled, words slurred and rolled together as he nodded off. “I don’t. You’re here. ‘S all tha’ matters.”

It would have to be enough for now.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Sorry for doing a third request, but thinking about the thoughts you posted for, I'll carry your heart made me wonder: What does Constantine think of Jason's core once Danny shows it to him? Does he know what it is? Can he tell that Jason is absent from it and not just in a coma? How does he break that news to Danny?

I'm just gonna put all of this under a cut for spoilers. ^.^

Danny pretends that he's a human with ties to the ghost king to Constantine. He doesn't say that he's the king himself. So he shows Constantine the core, says it's his boyfriend but he's in a coma and that his name is Jason.

He doesn't say anything about him being the dead Robin. He doesn't mention ties to any heroes or Justice League members. He's just a ghost that Danny is dating who fell into a coma.

Constantine doesn't really have any reason to suspect that's wrong, either. The best Healers in the Realms all see a ghost that's retreated into its core and has gone dormant. Constantine realizes there's nothing thinking in there, perhaps. Knows that there's something wrong with it. The ghostly equivalent of brain activity just isn't there. Does that mean the ghost is dead-dead? But then he hasn't faded or cracked or broken which is usually what happens when ghosts End.

But Constantine knows what he made a bargain for. He's gonna teach this kid magic, with a focus on healing magics. Specifically magics regarding comas and enchanted sleeps and the rest.

Probably the idea of soul-walking (or whatever the DC universe calls it) gets brought up. The idea of Jason leaving his body behind to send his consciousness out to spy or visit people or places he couldn't get to otherwise.

That's not how I plan for Living!Jason and Danny to actually reunite. But it could get Danny to Gotham once or twice and introduce him to at least Dick.

(The things I mention here are subject to change, but some of them are set in stone. You'll just have to wait to find out which is which. ^.^)

[saintetheldreda]

so i used to say vide noir was my favourite lord huron album because it is the most atmospheric of their albums and this is obviously a big part of it because vide noir is atmospheric as shit but honestly now i think it is less vide noir’s atmosphere and more its brilliant and uniquely insane batshit intensity that makes it such a special part of the lord huron discography.

can you imagine if you were listening to lonesome dreams and you heard a lyric like “cosmic ash and blackened brain i call you by your ancient names” youd have a heart attack lord huron have always been very emotionally intense but the way they took their gentle folk inspired melancholic beautiful cowboy sounds of love and heartbreak and strange happenings and turned it up to the raging neon scream into the darkness that is vide noir is quite possibly the most iconic thing any band has ever done. i know we have setting sun in lonesome dreams and that song is gorgeous and intense but it is just not the same kind of intense. you get your heart broken in strange trails and its “i dont know what to do haunted by the ghost of you” and how do i break the curse you left on me and runes on my skin and shit thats bad gang but you get your heart broken in vide noir and your soul gets hurled to the edge of the cosmos then plummets back into the ocean through a fucking hole in the fucking sky what the FUCK guys what the FUCK. i love playing vide noir all the time because this is my favourite framework through which to view my lived experience everything is so heightened and bright and loud and dramatic and imagining the world around you that way is just so magical. we start vide noir with “if i don’t find her i’m gonna tie that noose” we are promised a depth of love that stops at nothing and is no holds barred and bloody and raw and god does the album deliver on that promise every fucking second that follows. its the feeling of following your heart through its deepest darkest most twisted strange and unfamiliar paths without having any idea where its going, just to know what it has in store for you, because thats how committed you are to following it. there is no equivalent. sorry to say something a little sacreligous but vide noir makes the world ender look like skipping in the park like the world ender is pretty metal when the world ender comes baby run for your life and whatever but in vide noir we are trying to outrun the fucking pure black void im sorry but thats horrifying.

going from the ethereal, dreamy vision of the unknown in the yawning grave and frozen pines to vide’s something escaped when you opened the gate and now the unknown is everywhere and we’re drowning in it is just. its everything. this is not to disrespect the world ender or strange trails or any of the other songs and albums because the day i take any of that for granted i will cease to exist (esp the world ender that song owns my entire heart and soul). all of the albums and songs have something so unique to them and special about them which makes them completely irreplaceable. i only aim to argue that in the realm of intensity and insanity, vide noir is king. i am also intense and insane and i am its subject. hence irresistible fave

[beedreamscape]

LONG POST. This is just an interpretation of mine, but hear me out

The only thing that separates the greatest mages in the greatest age of mages from the beings that created them is the flaw of mortality. One realm all who walk Exandria are doomed to traverse forever one day.

I love Aabria's insight on this post, but it puts Laerryn's view of the gods in a framework of power alone, and that might be all she cares about in truth, but power alone is not what we generally think of when we think of deity.

We think of worship and devotion, about philosophies and guidelines which to follow, guidance and protection.

What does Laerryn know of worship?

One plane barred from mortal egress. One plane where she believed Evandrin went that she could not follow, from which she could not fetch him. One place that would someday steal Quay from her, or vice versa.

In my opinion she knows it through Evandrin.

There's this quote I was reminded of when I read this: “It's impossible to compete with the dead. I wished I could stop trying.” ― Sharp Objects

We don't hear about Evandrin's flaws in the game, at least that I can remember, the biggest one might've been trusting Laerryn too much, giving too much, which is the equivalent of saying your biggest flaw is being a perfectionist or a workaholic in a job interview.

He's almost saintlike if you think about it, mythological. He loved Zerxus and their son, he loved Laerryn, a kind selfless man that'll never give up on looking for you, the true first Knight of Avalir standing under a blossom tree, made of amethyst and starlight. Even his death was a soft one, no bloody mess, no coffin, no grave, no corpse to tell the story, not even a true death but the simulation of one.

“Why would you let someone go—away from you—untouchable—two people? I couldn’t—I loved them too much—I saw the face of Earth and choked the life out of it and ate it whole.” ― Nona the Ninth

He has, through death gained a new status, of sanctity, in Laerryn's eyes especially. So she wants, needs, to go to him, she wants to be forgiven --- finishing the Leywright was her devotion, her marriage gutted at the altar as sacrifice, its remains stored to be revived later.

And it's harder to put those lenses on Loquatius because he's there, still flawed, still questioning her, still a nuisance to her 'worship' because staying near him means sharing the devotion, he means relishing in the feelings she, very indirectly, deprived Zerxus and Evandrin of.

But for forgiveness, she'll abstain.

She doesn't know devotion any other way.

She'll build her Tower of Babbel and reach for Evandrin again.

But alright, that's all after he's gone.

She wanted to reach over before that.

Laerryn explained her vision to me, the Astral Leywright. (...) By what token do (the gods) award themselves that title, and what realms beyond could we explore? It was a beautiful dream, and I knew that there was danger and I wanted her dream to come true.

Evandrin himself calls her plans, her dream. It's a dream that could be shared but in a way also very selfish. I really don't think she envisioned that glory and power for everyone, the same way that if the people of the age had gotten their hands on what the Matron found out they wouldn't have shared any more than she did.

Her vision was not the simple magic of the threshold crests, not a quick move, not a one-way trip, not a single destination, but truly to take a leyline off of the face of Exandria and chart it to the stars, that we could go wherever we wished and be whatever we wished, and...

That "and..." catches my attention.

Again a sole focus on the power and not the philosophies, the devotion, the love for their creation which they can't control. It loses sight of the loneliness of the divine.

Then what would be done once they all acquired that power? For what end? What did her dream entail beyond the conquest?

What was her dream for Avalir after all of this? After they surpassed Aeor, what would come next?

To me it parallels nicely with the way so much money is spent in space exploration and insane technologies then we look back at the Earth and we're killing the planet and people are dying from solvable things like hunger. And I wish I could remember where Matt says this, but somewhere he mentions how Avalir is this place of opulence and power and not all of Exandria was like that in that age, there were serious class disparities.

She's in a place of privilege where she can dream up into the stars, Avalir is literally floating on the air, there's nowhere to look but up.

Then I bring back to Loquatius, because I'm shipper trash but also because it ties into something Sam said that it was through their relationship that we see a more mundane side of her. Of all the secrets, his was the simplest one: he missed her, and after all the lights and all the noise, even if she had succeeded in all that she had planned for, it would circle back to him.

“In another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.” ― Everything Everywhere All at Once

[mutable-manifestation]

The Ghost King (of Miscommunication) Ch. 20

Part 1-12,Part 13,Part 14,Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19

Part 20!

Info:

DC timeline is fucked, I’m going with the “Batman know most ids but hasn’t revealed himself yet” and a use of the ol’ canon “Brucie Wayne is That Famous(™)" and known as being a serial adopter.

As for how Deadman knows things: Rama pulled a favor with clockwork to let Deadman mature as a ghost/learn about important zone information & culture before yeeting him back to the living world with no time lost bc balance reasons.

He doesn’t know everything about the zone - he’d be garbage at finding his way around and he doesn’t really know anybody - but he knows customs and he knows about halfas bc all info about the Ghost King was High Priority Know This Or Don’t At Your Own Risk (the risk is that will turn u into a . He basically spent a subjective decade practicing his powers or reading books on ‘how to ghost’ next to Rama. He never has to go back to the realm to ‘recharge’ because Rama just kinda beams him what he needs to keep going.

***

“Well,” Constantine starts as he - ‘Finally,’ Bruce thinks - steps up to the table, evidently finished examining the scene, “I can tell you why we couldn’t find shit wrong in Gotham.”

“Elaborate,” Bru- Batman - he has to be Batman, now, has to be calm and think if he wants to get Jason back - demands.

“Don’t get your cape in a twist, Dadman, I’m getting there.” Constantine rolls his eyes, taking a seat.

“There’s a reason I don’t visit Gotham if I can help it - other than its stellar reputation and your renowned hospitality to outsiders.”

His amused snort very quickly transitions to a grimace.

“Gotham’s got the magical equivalent of background radiation. Real uncomfortable stuff. Feels like walking in the world’s biggest graveyard. And that-” he jabs a thumb over his shoulder “-feels just like it.”

“You’re saying he’s being kept somewhere in Gotham?” Red Robin perks up, voice hopeful and doubtful at once.

“No,” Constantine shoots down. “I’m saying whatever little fairy theory the kid had going was wrong, the fae haven’t lived in hell for centuries now. Even if it were them, pocket dimensions don’t actually work like that.”

“Wherever that portal led to reeks of death-” the Gotham heroes all tense at this, the others shooting them tentative looks of concern as Constantine steamrolls on “-and Gotham is exactly enough of a cesspit to have covered up the stink of it before. If it weren't for him being treated relatively well there, I woulda guessed he’d been dragged to hell. Dunno much about heaven - obviously - but I’ve never heard of them having escapees.”

“Obviously not,” Robin snaps, standing. “Red Hood is not dead, he was just here. We were able to see and interact with him, without any need for your tricks. Now can you tell us what it is, or do you just intend to sit there and list off all of the things that it is not?”

Beside him, a brace of batarangs appears in Black Bat’s hand, fanned out threateningly.

“Black Bat, Robin, that’s enough.” Batman commands, voice leaving no room for argument.

“He didn’t have a pulse.”

All eyes snap to Oracle, whose voice is only barely heard thanks to the silence following Batman’s words.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Red Robin insists. “Superman and Martian Manhunter don’t always have a detectable pulse! We already know Hood is…different now. But that doesn’t mean he’s dead! Some kind of magic or advanced tech could’ve-”

“You think I don’t know that?” Oracle demands softly. “I don’t want him to be dead either, but lying to ourselves will just make things harder. We need to know the truth if we’re going to get him back, whether we like that truth or not.”

Constantine allows a few seconds of somber silence before opening his mouth to break it, but is cut off by the door slamming open.

“I’m here,” Shazam says, rushing to his seat, “What’s going on?”

“One second,” Constantine interjects, “Deadman is here too. Let me just….”

Deadman pops into visibility over the table.

In lieu of re-explaining, they play back the relevant recordings - Batman had started them the moment he sat down, just in case.

There were only perhaps 15 minutes of relevant video, including the explanation, the re-kidnapping, and what little Constantine had told them - they’d spent much of the time Jason had been present getting details, brainstorming potential counter-strategies, and just generally killing time in the hopes that the clock would run out and everything would be fine.

“And that’s everything we have so far,” Batman says as he pauses the video - no need to replay the argument. “Thoughts?”

“Well, Conny’s right that they ain’t fairies. You’re not gonna like the answer, though.” Deadman starts, ignoring Constantine’s glare.

“If you have answers we want to hear them, whether we like them or not.” Batman insists, trying to reign in the fragile hope trying to bloom in his chest in favor of bracing himself.

“That portal led to the Infinite Realms - more commonly called ‘The Ghost Zone.’ As the name implies, it’s infinite and - whaddaya know - full of the dead.”

“Then Red Hood is…what? In heaven? Limbo?” Batman’s mind races; was it even possible to steal him back? Had they just…been allowed a final goodbye?

“Nah,” Deadman says, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Heaven, Hell, Purgatory - those places might be all Constantine has interacted with, but you gotta remember that I talk to Rama. Avatar of Vishnu? Yeah. The afterlife is a lot more complicated than most people think; fact of the matter is, all the afterlives people have believed in over the ages exist, and they all sit neatly in their own little slices of the Realms.”

Deadman floats to sit cross-legged at the head of the table.

“The only reason portals to hell and other locations in the Realms look different is because the local deity and/or devil makes them so, but much of the Zone is ungoverned by any specific deities or devils, so if you just open a portal to a random location, odds are it’s gonna be the green swirly.”

“So he is dead,” Signal concludes mournfully.

“Not necessarily. Kid said he got pulled through a portal to some kind of medical center, right? And his body was completely normal until one day he woke up looking different. And you lot didn’t find a body anywhere?”

“No,” Batman answered, “All we could find was the residue from the portal.”

“Well, if he’d up and died he shoulda left a body behind; it woulda been dumped back out by now - somewhere obvious, too, ghosts are big on proper burials. So unless someone managed to vaporize him, odds are he’s not fully dead, but he’s definitely at least a little dead.”

Robin scoffs, “‘A little dead.’ Do you hear yourself? Either he is dead or he is alive, there is no in between for that kind of thing.”

Deadman merely snorts.

“Says the liminal.”

Robin frowns.

“Liminal?” Robin, Batman, and Constantine all chorus.

“I thought that was just Gotham being possessive,” Constantine continues with a raised brow, turning an appraising eye on the batfamily.

“No,” Deadman answers, “All of you bats and birds are liminal - some more than others. Just a little changed, just a little touched by death. With any luck, the missing kid’s case is just a bit more severe. But we can talk more about that later. Back to the kid.”

And they will get to it later. Jason is their priority now, but if something is going on with his kids Bruce intends to know about it.

Deadman pauses to take an unneeded breath.

“I’m gonna be real with you - and Batman, don’t freak out - but it sounds to me like he’s been ghost adopted.”

A beat.

“Excuse me?”

Deadman waits for the litany of ‘what the hell’s and ‘ghost adopted???’s and ‘he already has a family!’s to die down.

The non-Gotham members of the League remain quietly confused - hoping this means things can be resolved peacefully while privately wondering if the bats and birds really would turn out to be some kind of self-unaware cryptids.

“Okay. Ghosts form when enough ectoplasm and ectoenergy - which you can think of as basically the carbon and electricity of the Zone, I guess, at least in this context - are present at the death of a being experiencing strong emotions. In the absence of that perfect mixture, a shade - just a soul with no real power - is formed, only able to become a proper ghost and form a core if brought to the Infinite Realms-”

“A core?” Batman asks.

“Ghost brains, basically. Anyway, ghosts can also form if there’s enough ectoplasm and energy in one place, either from the zone itself - known as neverborns - or from strong enough ghosts intentionally forming them - known as naturalborns. Now, ghost families don’t work the same as living families do. Ghost families form from a sort of ‘dibs’ system-”

“Dibs?” comes Flash’s incredulous voice.

“I’m gettin’ there,” Deadman sighed at the second interruption. “As I was sayin’. Regardless’a how, once a core is formed the new ghost is considered a baby ghost. It isn’t really a one-and-done process. Sure, once you’ve got a core you’ve got a ghost now, but not a mature one. Cores have to grow until they reach a stable size and energy level - usually marked by natural power acquisition settling down and ectoplasm fluctuations stabilizing. How long it takes depends on the quality and quantity of ectoplasm and ectoenergy available - the shortest known time was just under 5 years, longest was a few hundred, I think? Average is a decade or two.

This is relevant,” Deadman emphasizes for those who are visibly growing impatient, “For two reasons.”

“Firstly,” he holds up a finger, “The ecto a ghost takes in while maturing has an impact on how it develops, the powers it ends up with naturally. Everything in the zone is made of ectoplasm, and ghosts both take it in and echo out the excess - like plants, kinda. Maybe.

So if a baby ghost is around, say, a fire ghost a lot of the time it’ll probably end up with fire powers of its own. Assuming it was early enough and their core wasn’t already leaning towards ice or something. A stronger ghost parent also means faster growth.

Now, the Infinite Realms are infinite. People can’t always find each other, some people die at different times, some people return to the cycle before their loved ones die, some are neverborns, etc. Most sapient beings want friends and family, it’s just how it goes. So ghosts sometimes just kinda. Dibs each other.

Multiple dibs’ are pretty abnormal; baby ghosts aren’t actual babies in the human sense of the word. They don’t just pick a parent and stay there all the time while they’re waiting to mature. There’s generally that first few week-to-month period where they’ll stay put with whoever dibses them first for safety until the basics settle in, but after that? Ghosts explore, and dibs occur, and lots of newbies end up with something like a dozen parents and however many siblings-in-dibs.

Secondly,” another finger joins the first in a peace sign, “And what I suspect - and hope - is that while souls can fail to form cores and become shades, the opposite is also possible; a living being can become liminal enough to form a core. Making dibsing pretty much inevitable - no decent ghost is going to leave a baby seemingly stranded in the living world to starve into nonexistence. Gotham might have enough polluting the place, but it’s pretty much all rancid so that would’ve made them even more eager to get the kid outta there.”

“So what you’re saying,” Red Robin drawls, “Is that he’s dead-but-not-really and is only missing because a dead-for-sure person took one look at him, went ‘that’s baby,’ and pulled a Bruce Wayne?”

“Pretty much.”

“Even if it wasn’t intended to be malicious it’s still a kidnapping,” Batman says.

“Well, Wulf did offer to let the kid bring guests back with him-”

“What!?” Everyone choruses.

“Yeah, though given the whole fae-kidnapping assumption I think the kid took it as a threat, but he asked the kid how many of you he wanted to bring as guests. He said none, so Wulf said do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred dollars." Deadman said casually, as if that wasn't a heartbreaking bombshell to drop.

"Anyway, point is, if this really is just one big misunderstanding then you can go talk it out. Ghostspeak isn’t really living-friendly and the living language he did know clearly didn’t help. Lucky you, I can translate. And the Realms are a human-safe environment. Well, the air is breathable at least.”

"Human-safe my ass," Constantine spits. "If the demons I deal with dwell in one little slice I don't even wanna think about the kind of nightmares strolling around the rest of the place."

"We're not leaving Red Hood in there."

The Gotham heroes' words leave no room for argument.

They get down to planning.

***

Fun Fact:

Ghosts do change their names because of the whole ‘holds power’ thing - not in a mind control way, but in an emotional way. If someone can dig up how you died they’re probably gonna say something insensitive. Case in point: people on ghost shows being like “hey *ghost name* we heard *insert horrible thing here* happened to you. Is that true?” Rude. You’re a complete stranger.

Anyway here’re the ghost names.

The trio had been dating for over a year when Sam & Tucker died and it was a very stable relationship. They’d been planning out their future together by that point, down to details like where to live so all of their work would overlap, how to manage Danny’s lack of aging (aka moving frequency), etc. When they brought up thinking of ghost names Danny - distracted - immediately just said, “Well you could just go by Phantom now since you will be in another year or two anyway.” He’s incredibly embarrassed when he realizes what he’s just said, but they’re all happy and engaged by the end of the day. (They tease him mercilessly about that being the world's smoothest yet most clueless proposal ever for the next 10 years)

Jazz & Spike Spook were already mentioned in canon with their sense of humor being explained (you’d think the joke would get old after 40 years, it hasn’t. Not when Danny still pouts when he hears Spike’s full name)

Jack was really excited to help fight ghosts as a ghost to protect Danny (he’s really proud of his baby boy growing up and becoming a king via fighting ghosts). He dies before Maddie and calls himself Jack Specter “after the specter deflector, because I be deflecting [your enemies implied here]” (Danny had to go lie down after hearing this sentence [Jazz’s sense of humor came from somewhere and that somewhere is Jack Fenton. Jack Fenton’s knowledge of ‘hip phrases’ comes from Jazz and Jazz’s sense of humor, also known as brother-torture or simply ‘betrayal’ as Danny claims]). Maddie likes that it fits the family name theme and calls back to one of their inventions (& wants to match her husband).

Dani stay a Phantom, ofc, and is formally ghost-adopted by Danny after he tells his parents everything (his parents formally human-adopt her so she has a stable human-world home if she want it, but she calls them Gran and Gramps as a joke that becomes sincere over time)

Wes goes by Wes Wraith because it’s close to wrath and he is fully and consistently angry about fenton=phantom and also a slight edgelord.

Ida Mason is also a ghost. She simply goes by ‘Wilda’ now (pronounced like wild-uh) and looks shockingly like Ember if she was an adult. And her hair wasn’t made of fire. And also went more pink than blue. So barely like Ember at all lol. She died in the middle of trying to finish knitting a scarf and now her obsession is knitting. She knitted a moped. She knitted a house. Home girl knitted herself an entire island and has not stopped.

The Manson parents have a little door-realm connected to their house in the living realm (like Poindexter with the school) and spend their time pretending everything is normal (like how Poindexter was stuck in the bullying loop but just. Reading the same newspaper/remaking the same dress, watching the same shows/etc).

The Foley parents were perhaps the most normal people on the show. 

When Sam and Tucker died, the only ones who knew what happened were them and Danny - even Jazz didn’t get an explanation until she & the Fenton parents followed them into the ghost zone to find out what was going on - so the police were left to draw their own conclusions.

The GIW had already proven themselves to be reprehensible and overly willing to step on anyone who got in their way. The tech the police found was a collab between Dalv Co & the GIW and with Vlad’s disappearance and the GIW’s emotionless denial no one ever gets prosecuted for Sam & Tucker’s deaths (Vlad has a warrant out for him & the Mansons try to drag the GIW to court but it never goes anywhere). 

The Foleys switch job tracks to take down the GIW/the Anti-Ecto Acts/any other asshole ghost hunters they can find. The Fentons are only exempt because they tell them what happened, explain how their stance on ghosts changed when they found out about Danny, and help the Foleys on their journey.

As ghosts Angela is obsessed with Justice & takes the name Justitia and Maurice is obsessed with ethics (bc if the GIW had any they wouldn’t have made weapons like that in the first place. Literal animals had more rights than ghosts at the point despite them being provably sapient) & takes the name Ethos. (They keep Foley as their last names tho). Yes, Danny does royal-decree them into being Walker’s oversight. Pretty much everyone is a fan of that. Except for the observants, who complain about everything but especially about how much Ethos & Justitia argue with them (what is the ‘greater good’ does not often match up with what is right. Especially when their idea of greater good is ‘eliminate problem via murder or core-crushing before it can become one’ instead of literally anything else).

@mayoota-blog1 @kyrianclawraith, @do3y, @someonebored0100 @omegasmileyface

[simple-seranade]

Okay back on my bullshit now I’m free from Jail aka my job. I saw you post about card games therefore-

A world where you can fight people with magic summoning cards that either summon beings or effects and the dark version if you lose a battle your soul gets trapped into a card yugioh style,

But also like Bakugan you have a main sentient humanoid bro that is like bonded to you though it’s there choice really. It’s sorta like the being choses whatever schmuck. And some are notoriously picky. They have their own will and dislikes and what not. They are a person

Cue Jimmy being a card user that has the equivalent of a deck of the worst buffs (Example he has cards that give him bad luck he can’t get rid of) or newb monsters On the level Like Kuriboh (Yugioh) or caterpie (Pokémon) and like his only useful card is the one that gets him canary wings but to use that card he has to use one of his bad luck cards as well.

Cue Jimmy after probs about to be a victim of his soul getting trapped into a card yugioh style after losing to a evil dude that does shadow realm esque villainy. Finally managed to get his main dude that’s his ace and gets bonded to Tango right before he dies.

Tango is a chimera class bonded which means that he is a sentient dude that can switch elements which is very rare. He is even more powerful because his elements (ice and fire) are completely opposite. Usually even after the whole you got bonded to a dude the being can decide their relationship or what not. And idk mate Tango sees the worst card player ever and thinks ah yes this is the one.

So Jimmy hears all these stories about how the card players have to like show their worth to their bonded and Jimmy is like Tango never puts me in trials yo get his respect. Meanwhile Tango is hear thinking he has the greatest dude as his partner and maybe perhaps wanting to smooch him (which is not uncommon in this universe)

Jimmy accidentally makes Tango Uber powerful because he falls into the thing in Pokémon the more friendly you are to your Pokémon the more they will be op (in Pokémon case literally forcing itself to stay at 1 if it was crit hit or being the matrix)

And Yes Jimmy eventually figures it out that Tango loves him. But it takes a while solely because Jimmy isn’t the sharpest tool. Once they get together tho they legit become feared. Because again Tango is a OP monster being that’s hella rare and even rarer to counteract against all his powers. And Jimmy goes through like a typical card game protag and get gud.

YES… YES

as someone who gets very emotional when my pokemon affection crit/dodge/heal a status effect i can imagine jimmy being like. “man tango is so cool and strong. i hope he likes me.” and his Best Buddy (i think either scott or grian) would be like “um. dude you do realize part of why he’s so powerful is because he really likes you right”

cue jimmy learning that affection actually affects power and being very flustered because “oh so that’s why he keeps annihilating everything in his path. because he cares about me. ok. ok.”

but yeah. dramatic anime duels, they go on a quest to find one of the rarest cards in the game (aka the warden card) to defeat whoever the rival is

actually stream of thought while i’m doing this, joel is the rival. i think that would fit. can’t believe he has the super powerful ocean queen AND the insanely crazy ninja cards. wild

your aus >>>>>

[doctorstrangereview]

Strange Tales #135

Cover Date: August 1965 On-Sale Date: May 4, 1965

This month Strange Tales introduces its answer to James Bond. Sgt. Fury is recast as super-spy Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Doc is completely absent from the cover bar a tiny portrait in the corner box. I really miss those boxes. In this issue we get a nice amount of intrigue and back stabbing as Doc fully embraces his mission to find "Eternity".

Doc has gone to London to search for "Eternity". He's keeping vigilant this time as he smokes out a Mordo spy in the airport just after he's landed. After wiping the minion's memory, he travels to a castle on a foggy moor. The castle belongs to Sir Baskerville. So far there are no signs of any hounds. Doctor Strange's thought bubble identifies Sir Baskerville as a "former" disciple of Mordo until he met with an accident. The fact that he's Sir and not Lord means he's a pretty minor noble. I wonder if he has his Knight Grand Cross. It's a nice castle whatever the case.

A grey haired gentleman in a rather fine long smoking jack lets Doc in. We see the 'accident' left him with an injured hand that he keeps encased in something. Or did he lose it and this is capping the stump? We may never know, but he's still a proper English gentleman who offers Doc tea. Doc's like "Sorry dude. Got no time for that. Did you happen to hear of 'Eternity'?" "By golly, I believe I have! Let me go get that scroll for you."

Sir Baskerville with no hounds leaves Doc in front of the fireplace to contemplate his situation. Wisely, Doc thinks the situation out rather than his usual shouting out to all who can hear. Just a few stories ago, as Doc was vanishing to Shazana's and her nameless sister's realm, Doc recognized Dormie's voice. Here he thinks "if only I knew from whence Mordo's increased power has come!" which sounds to me like he hasn't a clue. The colors in this panel are delightfully moody.

We change scenes to the Dark Dimension where Dormie is steaming even more than usual. He's still worked up by someone mucking with his Mindless Ones barrier. Fortunately, his security is somewhat better than most magic users in this series. Using a round edition of the magic smoky flat panel TV, he replays the events around the barrier incident. I suppose being and absolute, supremely powerful dictator makes you a bit paranoid and you watch everything. He watches Clea steal the energy draining device and place it by the barrier. It looks like she's in Nightmare's realm instead of the Dark Dimension, but whatever. Of course, if he had truly effective security, Clea wouldn't have been able to steal the device in the first place. Dormie is pissed and does the equivalent of putting his fist through the TV and begins to carefully plot his vengeance. In a better show of continuity Clea wears the same outfit in the flashback as when she first seen stealing the device last issue.

Going back to Castle Baskerville, we find out Sir Baskerville is still in the thrall of Mordo. Whoa! Would have never suspected that! Sir Baskerville contacts Mordo mentally who dispatches Kaecilius to take care of things. Unlike previous teleportation, Mordo has to speak a spell to achieve it this time. Arriving, Kaecilius and Mordo's giant floating head yell at Sir Baskerville. He grabs a scroll and goes back to Doc. Sneaking up behind, Kaecilius/Mordo attacks. But, Doc is the tricky one this time! It was only an illusion of Doc which quickly fades. A suit of armor begins to move and Kaecilius/Mordo, attack it again and again, but it doesn't fall. Doc's trick #2! Running through a doorway, a hidden Doc clobbers Kaecilius, cutting off his contact with Mordo. There's something very satisfying about that panel.

Doc freezes Sir Baskerville and probes Kaecilius' mind, without consent, of course. Here he confirms that Mordo's secret partner in crime is Dormie. Continuity crisis averted!

While this is going on Mordo is dispatching his ninja minions. Before they can reach the castle, Doc finds out that Mordo promised to restore Sir's hand. Having some knowledge of this particular situation, Doc informs him it can't be done. Then, he actually says "You no longer interest me!" In a race against time Doc retrieves his cloak. This is what caused the armor to move and why the devastating force had no effect. He goes to the roof of the castle as the minions arrive. "You, ninja dudes, my mind to your mind my thoughts to your thoughts. Doc has gone to the netherworld. You should go there to." And the flee.

Mordo realizes something is wrong and goes to the castle himself as Doc flees. Realizing he's been outwitted, Mordo shakes his fist in the air in a classic "I'll get you next time!" moment.

I like this. Doc has a definitive victory against Mordo who clearly outclasses him in power. He achieved this through his wits. Doc is more than a magical blowhard. He's a cunning strategist. Outmanned and outgunned he can still come out on top. It's bittersweet. His mission to find "Eternity" is still a failure. The story moves the arc along at a sufficient, if not brisk pace. Pieces are set in place or have begun to move. Sir Baskerville will return in a number of years in a future story arc that is truly masterful. It will even include some familiar participants. From here to "Eternity," baby!