#oldest map of world

[oldmapster]

Buy Custom Framed Maps

Buy custom framed maps at Old Mapster, where history and artistry meet. Choose from a selection of vintage maps, tailored to your space, framed to perfection. Bring timeless charm into your home!

[sophisticatedswifts]

I accidentally went to the oldest bookstore in the world today

[macden]

I bought a globe at an antique store from the mid 1940s and I love it because I am a nerd but I also feel like I need to print this out to display beside it

[ancientstuff]

Well, I mean the title for this article is hugely misleading, but the article itself is really interesting.

[lemonsweet]

And it's funny because the gen 4 games all talk about the myths and legends but it feels like arceus didn't potray any of those lol. it basically introduced more legends that your character didn't get to see for some reason? You'd think going back to the past your character would be more involved in that stuff that was talked about in the ds games but I guess not

[rrcraft-and-lore]

Uh...super totally cool and not nerdy stuff....

Um nothing about the new discovery of Harrapan civilization shipyards at Lothal - the heart of the old south Asian civ.

And how that explains south Asian artifacts and more in cradle Mesopotamia and Egyptian sites and what that means for earlier old world trade, this stories, and back and forth religious perhaps influences too?!

Because it is officially now recognized as THE WORLD'S OLDEST PORT!!!!!

And they found foreign artifacts IN the shipyards too! So back and forth trade as well as obvy like mentioned the fact Indian artifacts showed up in the Persian Gulf coast.

But what's crazy is the fact there's networks of rivers and paths showing people traveled and traded TO Lothal (on their way) and then some from Lothal bought and traded onwards and some continued their journeys from there to Mesopotamia (today Iraq). That is huge!

Um...oh, and uh cars, and how to make a PVC tube snow ball when winter comes so I'm prepared to be the most dominant force on my block. Get rekt!

...also the history of sapphic pirates.

Oh, map representation of the water was from Nal Sarova and all the way up from Ahmedabad for how people could get to Lothal -- for some the boat trip was only two days on a boat with a little humped thatched roof over it.

Two days of river going comfortably and you could be at a trade epicenter (water NYC) then from there outward into the wider world to trade with other cradle civilizations. Idk if you get how fucking huge that is for a trader. Think about the stories traded back and forth, superstitions, myths, folktales, lives, and of course they money, goods, information. Learned people would travel ABSOLUTELY for the sake of knowledge and the new.

South Asia was home to the world's oldest residential university. Most of the cradle civilizations were more advanced than many give them credit for because they had built up the wealth/resources at the time to invest back into the collection and pursuit of knowledge so higher level learning through schools of various sorts and private tutelage and having just people dedicated to its pursuits (and libraries of course) all existed and could be funded/possible.

The old world was FAR more interconnected than people realize.

But this is freaking super duper cool.

The Silk Road maritime routes were absolutely documented. But that is a far way away from this period in time.

[unnamed-proxy]

My Noli obsession has grown past Forsaken, it doesn’t have to be related to forsaken in the slightest anymore I just like thinking about that guy and his myth

[untitlzd]

silence doesn’t stop rich boys

top!sim jaeyun x btm!male reader smut

Jake Sim's party invite arrives—thick cardstock, old-money cursive. You go because that's what people like you do. The champagne flows, his gaze lingers, and no one notices when you disappear into the penthouse's private wing.

continued in “rich boys don’t get dirty.”

warnings: noncon/dubcon, power dynamics, possessiveness, semi-public sex, oral sex, rough sex, breeding kink (implied), aftercare as manipulation, lowkey inspired by gossip girl

Old money has a scent. A blend of expensive leather, French perfume, and promises sealed generations ago. In this closed circle, luxury isn't ostentation—it's routine. Watches worth more than cars, dinners in penthouses that don't appear on Google Maps, and last names that function as keys. And among them stands Y/n.  

He was never exactly one of them, but he learned fast. The son of an influential attorney—the kind who turns crises into lucrative settlements—he grew up between silent meetings and champagne toasts before even understanding what was being celebrated. He didn't inherit a centuries-old fortune, but carried something nearly as valuable: influence. And in this game, knowing how to use it is what truly matters.  

To others, Y/n belongs. He wears the right brands, speaks with the confidence of someone who knows the backstage dealings, and maintains that discreet smile of someone who never falters. But behind the shine lies a fragile structure. Exclusive parties hide unstable alliances, and anonymous messages circulate more frequently than truths.  

Because in this world, what sustains you isn't having the most—it's knowing how to remain silent when everyone is watching.  

Despite not carrying a surname forged by generations, Y/n was always there—at the most private parties, at invitation-only gatherings, at the center of the group where few truly belong. His mere presence was enough to calm any tension: when your father commands one of the country's most feared law firms, scandals tend to disappear before they even take shape. Having Y/n around wasn't just prestige—it was protection.  

So it came as no surprise when Jake's name appeared linked to the next big party. Jake belonged to a nearly extinct type of social royalty: his family synonymous with political tradition, silent influence, and inherited power. Even among the most well-connected, Jake stood out. The typical good guy—or at least, he knew how to play one. Always smiling, always impeccable, always untouchable. No one dared confront him. And at the same time, no one seemed to care enough to try.  

Y/n wasn't the type to decline a party, but the invitation from Jake caused some unease. Reserved, careful, molded by the image his parents insisted he maintain, Jake rarely exposed himself beyond what was necessary. Still, the news spread fast. A single anonymous post on the city's most venomous blog turned the night into an event:  

"Party at the politicians' house? Seems the new generation decided to play at freedom. Closed list, open bottles..."  

The warning had been issued, and as always, everyone would pretend not to care.  

Y/n dressed in silence as he read the post. No surprise—just the sensation that everything was following its course. He and Jake weren't friends. Never had been. But there was a silent pact between them: a strategic coexistence, without excess, without intimacy. Both knew where they stood, and more importantly, where they wanted to remain.  

At the top.  

It was as if they respected, without ever saying it aloud, each other's places in that hierarchy. Neither wanted to take the other's space—it wasn't necessary. But somehow, there was a strange companionship between them. An implicit recognition that even amidst so many masks, you could trust someone who didn't try to be you.  

Jake's penthouse occupied one of the oldest—and most discreetly luxurious—buildings on the Upper East Side. The pale stone facade, wrought-iron balconies, and silent corridors covered by time-worn red carpets all seemed part of a New York that refused to die. A place where power needed no ostentation—just permanence.  

When the elevator opened directly into the main hall, Y/n was met with an expected scene: warm lighting, music perfectly chosen to seem spontaneous, uniformed waiters circulating with crystal trays, and a group of people who knew exactly the value of being seen—and even more, the value of pretending not to care.  

Jake appeared immediately, with that classic, trained, millimeter-perfect smile.  

"So glad you came," he said, extending a glass to Y/n. His voice was low, his gaze a bit too intense for the casual tone. He was impeccable, as always. Light linen shirt, sleeves rolled to the forearm, cologne expensive enough not to be obvious. And there was something more there—a touch on the shoulder that lasted a second too long, a look that took too long to look away.  

Y/n smiled back, with that kind of calculated lightness he used when he didn't want to seem surprised. The environment enveloped him easily: flowing conversations, muffled laughter, soundtrack alternating between sophistication and faux nonchalance. The penthouse view framed the city lights, as if the world outside were just a backdrop for what really mattered—what was happening here inside.  

The hours passed almost fluidly, dissolved in sips of expensive drinks and conversations that said little. Y/n drank slowly, as he always did. But at some point, he lost count. Maybe because he was too relaxed, maybe because the drinks were stronger than they seemed. Or maybe because Jake made sure his glass was never empty.  

The music had shifted to something more sensual, and the spaces between bodies grew smaller. Y/n leaned against the frame of one of the wide windows, feeling the night air against his skin. The alcohol's effects were showing: the edges of the room softened, voices blurred, thoughts slightly tangled.  

And then he noticed.  

Jake was still nearby. Too nearby.  

All night, he seemed to be watching Y/n. Never directly—but from time to time, a quick glance, a directed comment, a constant presence in the same spaces. It wasn't aggressive, nor was it clear. But there was something there. An excessive care, a proximity that bordered on intimacy, even if wrapped in the same facade as always.  

The strange thing was that this intimacy had never existed. They'd never been close. Not like that. And yet, Jake acted as if there were something between them that only he remembered. As if he were just resuming a familiarity that had never truly been built.  

Y/n looked away, as if trying to regain control of his own space. But even without meeting his gaze directly, he knew Jake was still there, firm, smiling as if everything were perfectly in order.  

And maybe it was. Or maybe not.  

But in that world, that was the rule: you could never be certain of anything.  

The night wore on, and gradually the number of guests began to dwindle. Those who knew the right time to leave—before the shine turned to weariness—began saying goodbye with soft hugs and empty promises of "see you soon." Y/n took the opportunity to circulate a bit more, exchange some basic pleasantries here and there, maintain the social posture he knew by heart.  

But as the room emptied, other presences took up the space—more intense, more distracted. Certain substances began appearing naturally, passing between familiar hands, hidden behind loose laughter and wandering gazes. And suddenly, it all felt like too much.  

Y/n needed air.  

He wasn't the type to make a scene, much less allow himself vulnerabilities in public. So without anyone noticing, he slipped down one of the hallways until he found a slightly ajar door. He entered silently. It was one of the bedrooms—well-decorated, immaculate, almost impersonal, like the rest of the penthouse. He closed the door behind him and sat on the bed. A few seconds later, he lay down.  

He wasn't exactly unwell. But he wasn't fine either. Everything felt stifling, as if the air had grown thicker. Jake's insistent gaze all night, the never-empty glass, the conversations that always demanded a response, a reaction, a version of himself. It was too much.  

His head throbbed silently. The ceiling seemed farther away than it should. For a few minutes, Y/n let his mind go blank, float, trying to organize what he felt—or perhaps just distance himself from what he didn't want to think about.  

And then, the door opened.  

At first, Y/n didn't even register it. He was somewhere outside himself, numb, as if the world beyond had slowed to a crawl. He only realized he wasn't alone anymore when he heard the voice—low and sweet, almost too careful.  

"Hey, Y/n?"  

Jake.  

He was there, beside the bed, his gaze too gentle for someone who—as far as anyone knew—never got this close. His presence, unexpectedly near, cut through the silence like a whisper loaded with something Y/n couldn't yet name.  

And even as his body sank deeper into the mattress, motionless, his mind was now alert.  

Because in that world, nothing happened by accident. Not even sincere concern. If that's what this was.  

"Are you okay?"

Y/n nodded almost reflexively, his voice stuck in his throat.  

"Just... not feeling too well," he murmured, quiet, as if speaking louder would upset what little stability remained. It wasn't a lie. His body felt too heavy, his head spun at an odd rhythm, and everything around him seemed slightly out of focus.  

Jake didn't answer right away. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on Y/n with an intensity that seemed kind but was something more. There was something hidden there—a concern that wasn't just concern.  

"You drank too much," he said, almost accusatory. Then, softer: "Should've told me you weren't feeling well."  

Y/n frowned slightly, trying to understand why, exactly, that would be Jake's responsibility. But he said nothing. Couldn't.  

Jake continued:  

"Enjoying the party?"  

The question was simple, but loaded with expectation. Y/n blinked slowly, fighting to keep his eyes open. Before he could answer, Jake spoke again, his voice still low, sweet... but now a little tighter.  

"Saw you talking a lot with that guy..." He tilted his head slightly. "You hook up with someone?"  

Y/n took too long to process. The question felt misplaced, invasive. As if they were having a different conversation in a different context. He tried to sit up a little, but his body still weighed him down. And then he felt it.  

That initial concern—so delicate—now sounded like something else. Control disguised as care. A subtle demand hidden in a sweet tone. As if every word had been chosen to seem harmless but carried something heavier underneath.  

Jake kept his fingers there, lightly stroking Y/n's cheek. As if marking his presence. As if reminding Y/n—without saying it aloud—who was here, who had always been watching.  

"Just wanna know if you had fun... with me around," he said, still wearing that contained smile.  

It wasn't just curiosity. It was something between a warning and a reminder.  

Y/n's stomach turned. His head was still foggy, his body still heavy, and now Jake was too close, too demanding. He was smiling, but it wasn't the same smile as before.  

And in that moment, it became clear: this wasn't concern. It was surveillance.  

And worst of all—Jake didn't seem at all inclined to leave.  

Y/n shifted, restless. The discomfort wasn't just emotional anymore—it was physical. Jake's presence seemed to fill more space than the room allowed. What had been a quiet bedroom now felt claustrophobic. The air was thin. With a silent effort, Y/n tried to sit up, to push away the weight of the situation.  

But the moment his elbows left the mattress, Jake acted.  

One hand shoved him back down against the bed. Not a subtle gesture—direct, firm, making it clear this wasn't about care. It was control.  

"Stay down."  

The words were still polite, but the tone betrayed the tension beneath the facade. Jake's face remained aligned with the image of the perfect heir, the composed scion of old politics. But his eyes said something else: impatience, dominance. Something that wanted more than answers—it wanted certainty that Y/n knew his place.  

Y/n stared up at him, surprised, his body still hesitant. His mind, muddled by alcohol and the night's atmosphere, struggled to process this clearly, but the alarm bells were ringing now. This was far from a normal conversation.  

Jake leaned in, bracing one arm beside Y/n's head, closing even more of the space between them. His posture was carefully relaxed. But the proximity was invasive.  

"You didn't answer my question." The words came sharp, with the coldness of someone who wouldn't tolerate being ignored. Not a request. A demand. "Did you hook up with anyone tonight?"  

Y/n's silence was taken as provocation.  

Jake didn't back off. If anything, he pressed closer.  

"Because..." He murmured, that tense smile still on his lips, "honestly, I don't get what you're still looking for out there."  

Then came the gesture that sealed it. Jake's hand went straight to Y/n's hair. His fingers moved slowly, almost as if fixing something out of place. But nothing was out of place—it was just an excuse to touch. An intimacy too familiar for the superficial relationship they had. Almost possessive. Almost a warning.  

"You know there's no one here like me."  

His voice stayed quiet, but weighted. There was a tension there, masked by the same veneer of good manners as always. Not an offhand comment. This was territorial.  

Y/n swallowed hard.  

The music, the laughter, the voices from the party seemed to have vanished. Everything now revolved around that presence—suffocating, constant. Jake was here. Too close. Too firm. And still smiling.  

But there was nothing harmless in that smile anymore.  

Suddenly, the hand that had been stroking Y/n's hair slid down to his face—fingers firm, pressing into the sides of his jaw, forcing him to maintain eye contact.  

"Cat got your fucking tongue?"  

The question cut through the air like a slap. No more polish, no more well-bred heir persona. Jake's mask had slipped, and what remained was pure, aggressive, direct control. The entire room seemed to shrink under the weight of those words.  

Y/n looked away, his pulse racing, body rigid under a touch that was no longer ambiguous.  

"Jake... you're drunk," he said, voice low, hesitant.  

But it was obvious Jake was completely sober where it counted. His gaze was steady, his speech firm, his movements coldly calculated. No confusion or clumsiness in his actions—just intent.  

Jake didn't respond.  

Instead, his fingers trailed down, slow and deliberate, to the first button of Y/n's white shirt. He began undoing them, one by one, without hurry, as if exploring territory he already considered his.  

The silence between them grew heavy, suffocating. The room remained isolated from the rest of the world, time seeming to slow. The tension was palpable—and above all, dangerous.  

Because Jake knew exactly what he was doing. And he made sure Y/n knew that here, he set the pace.  

The air in the bedroom grew thick, charged with the scent of expensive whiskey and Jake's woody cologne. His fingers—always so careful in public—now worked with brutal efficiency on Y/n's buttons, like a merchant unwrapping a package he already owned.  

"Bet sluts like you love attention, don't you?" Jake murmured, his voice dripping like poisoned honey. His breath was hot against Y/n's face as he leaned closer. "Show up and suddenly everything has to be about you, huh?"  

The second button came undone with an almost inaudible snap. Jake smiled, his dark amber eyes glinting with a light that didn't belong to the room.  

"Think a little toy can go around denying what its owner decides?" The word "owner" came out like a whip, just as his fingers found the waistband of Y/n's pants.  

Y/n tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond—whether from the alcohol, the shock, or something deeper he refused to name. Jake chuckled low, the sound vibrating against Y/n's neck.  

"Look at you," he whispered, the zipper sliding down with an obscene noise in the quiet room. "Don't even need help. Already know your place."  

His hand slipped beneath the fabric, finding heated skin. Jake exhaled, as if rediscovering something long lost.  

"All this time pretending you didn't want it..." His grip tightened possessively, making Y/n arch. "But your body always knew the truth, didn't it?"  

The touch was both intimate and cruel, as if Jake weren't exploring but verifying what he already owned. His eyes never left Y/n's face, watching every microexpression like a scientist observing an experiment.  

"Should've seen your face when I invited you," he continued, fingers now toying with Y/n's waistband, pushing it down in slow, deliberate motions. "Everyone watching. Everyone knowing." A calculated pause. "You liked it, didn't you? Knowing I wanted you here."  

Y/n tried to speak, but only a rough sound escaped. Jake smiled, satisfied.  

"Don't answer." His free hand gripped Y/n's chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "We've got all night for you to learn to say 'thank you.'"  

Y/n froze, his body tense yet strangely pliant, as if some deep part of him already understood resistance was futile. His lips were slightly parted, his breathing uneven, his gaze locked on Jake's face—half desire, half dominion.  

Jake didn't waste time.  

With one rough motion, he yanked Y/n's pants down, exposing him to the cool air of the bedroom. He was already hard, precum glistening at the tip, and Jake didn't hesitate—he gripped the back of Y/n's neck and shoved his cock down that warm throat in one thrust.  

"Open wider, whore," Jake snarled, fingers tangling in Y/n's hair as he pushed deeper, making him gag. Spit spilled from the corners of his mouth, tears springing to his eyes, but Jake gave no quarter.  

"That's it, take it all, you fucking slut," Jake groaned, hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt, his coarse pubes grinding against Y/n's nose. "This what you wanted? All that attention?"  

Y/n could barely breathe, his hands fisting the sheets, his body trembling between shock and submission. But for some reason, he didn't fight. Didn't try to shove Jake away. Just accepted it, as if some part of him had always known this was inevitable.  

Jake grinned, triumphant, yanking Y/n's head back to stare into his eyes while fucking his mouth without mercy.  

"Gonna swallow every drop, pretty boy. Every last one."  

Y/n didn't realize when he started sucking in earnest. It was instinctive, like his body knew what to do even as his mind scrambled to process. His lips sealed around Jake's cock, tongue lapping at the salty precum as his head began to move, trying to please.  

Jake let out a ragged moan, his grip tightening in Y/n's hair.  

"Fuck, you learn fast," he growled, pulling Y/n's head back just to slam forward again, dragging his cock over that willing tongue. "Already sucking like a trained little cockslut."  

Y/n could barely think, his body hot and pliant, but when Jake thrust deep again, forcing his throat to open, he choked, tears spilling over. Drool dripped down his chin, making an even bigger mess, but Jake didn't stop.  

"Swallow it, bitch," he ordered, pounding into Y/n's mouth with brutal strokes. "Take it."  

When Jake finally pulled out, leaving Y/n gasping and dripping, he grabbed his chin, forcing their eyes to meet.  

"Now that you've got the mouth down," Jake murmured, rubbing the head of his cock over Y/n's swollen lips, "time you learned how to take a cock in that tight little ass."  

Y/n's eyes widened, but Jake was already hauling him up by the hips, flipping him onto his stomach like a doll.  

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he whispered, spitting into his palm and slicking himself up. "I'll make it fit."  

And Y/n, somehow, already knew there was no choice left.  

When Y/n blinked, he was on his stomach, fingers clawing at the obscenely expensive silk sheets of Jake's bed. His tailored slacks—the ones that cost more than a waiter's monthly salary—were bunched around his knees, trapping him like fabric handcuffs, leaving only his ass exposed to the dim bedroom light. His skin prickled with awareness as Jake positioned himself behind him, a predator moving in for the final strike.  

Jake took his time. Spitting into his own hand with a crudeness that would've been vulgar anywhere else but here, in this locked penthouse bedroom, felt as natural as pouring an 18-year-old whiskey. His wet fingers rubbed over Y/n's tight hole, making him shiver.  

"Gonna hurt less if you relax," Jake murmured, his voice equal parts threat and promise, as the thick head of his cock pressed against resistant muscle. "Still gonna hurt, though."  

When he pushed in, it was like a banker closing a hostile deal—slow enough to be deliberate, hard enough to brook no negotiation. Y/n bit back a scream, his fingers destroying the expensive sheets, his teeth sinking into his own bottom lip until he tasted blood.  

Jake gave him a cruelly short moment to adjust, his hands gripping Y/n's hips like handles. When he started moving, every thrust was a lesson, a territorial claim.  

"Look at you," Jake rasped, watching Y/n's body give way beneath him, molding to his. "All prim and proper at the party, and now?" A sharp snap of his hips. "Just a ruined little slut on my cock."  

Y/n tried to muffle his moans in the pillow, but Jake yanked his head back by the hair, forcing out a broken sound.  

Jake wasn't gentle.  

Every movement was a declaration, a brand made with his entire body—as if he needed to carve the truth into Y/n's skin: he was owned now.  

And against all reason, Y/n stopped resisting.  

The sounds spilling from his lips weren't protests anymore, but surrender, need. Broken, shameless, desperate—as if every noise was another piece of his defiance being ripped away.  

This wasn't the Jake he knew. This was someone darker, more possessive, more real. And no matter how much Y/n tried not to think about it, his body responded like it had always belonged to him.  

"Such a pretty little thing," Jake growled, crushing their mouths together in a wet, sloppy kiss. Spit smeared across Y/n's lips, mixing them together. "Finally admitting you're just a whore, huh?"  

The pace turned punishing, each thrust deeper, harder, more claiming. Jake dug his fingers into Y/n's jaw, marking the bone beneath.  

"Gonna come together, yeah?" His voice was rough, wrecked with lust. "Know you're close. Be a good toy for me."  

Y/n could feel his own orgasm building, his body tightening in response to Jake’s relentless rhythm. He was so close—so close—and Jake knew it, his thrusts growing sharper, more erratic.  

"Come on, baby," Jake panted against his ear, his voice breaking. "Come with me."  

And then it hit them both at once—Y/n’s body arched, his release crashing over him like a wave, his moan muffled against the sheets. Jake followed instantly, burying himself deep as he came, his groan raw and unfiltered against Y/n’s skin.  

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing, the heat between them, the weight of Jake’s body pressing Y/n into the mattress.  

Then, as if flipping a switch, Jake moved.  

"Should go say goodbye to everyone," he said, his voice already smoothing back into the perfect host's cadence, like the last hour never happened. He stood, his cock still glistening where it brushed Y/n's thigh, and cleaned up with a casual swipe, like an artist wiping his hands after a painting. "Can't just disappear."  

Y/n didn't answer. Couldn't. Just closed his eyes, his body heavy, his mind hazy.  

Jake smiled, adjusting his shirt, his hair, everything back into place.  

"Get some rest, okay?" Soft, almost tender. "I'll be back soon." A pause. "You were such a good boy. Did so well."  

Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.  

From outside, Jake's voice carried, bright and animated, mixing with the remaining guests' laughter, the clink of champagne flutes, the soft music. As if nothing had changed. As if he were still just the perfect Jake everyone knew.  

And Y/n, as sleep pulled him under, couldn't tell which version was real anymore.  

Or if, in the end, they both were.  

note: hey! that's my first time writing something like this, so please be nice :) english is not my first language, so im sorry if something sounds off or weird! bye

[oldmapster]

Europe Topographic Map

Explore the Europe Topographic Map at Old Mapster. This 78x57-inch masterpiece on premium cotton canvas captures Europe’s stunning landscapes with intricate detail. A must-have for map enthusiasts. 

[flwrkid14]

Ghosts of Gotham

They say Gotham is haunted.

Not just by the usual things—regret, poverty, old blood in alleyways—but by something else. Something stranger.

They say the shadows twitch wrong on certain nights. That if you walk the Narrows during a thunderstorm, your reflection in puddles might smile before you do. That if you laugh too loud after midnight, something laughs back—higher pitched, younger, aching with glee.

And if you ask the wrong people, in the wrong bars, beneath the flickering neon where the rogues drink and the bats won’t tread, you’ll hear about him.

They call him Joker Junior in the files. JJ in the headlines. The Painted Prince in the streets.

But his name was once Tim.

The lost Drake boy. The one they didn’t recover. The one who didn’t die—but didn’t escape, either.

He laughs like he’s trying to drown something. He smiles with too many teeth and talks to himself in riddles no one else can follow. And behind the greasepaint and the scars and the violet shadow of someone else’s madness… there was once a boy who loved maps and logic and riddles that had real answers.

He’s the one Gotham forgot how to mourn.

People say he changed the city. That when he came back wrong, Gotham did too. That he left it cracked down the middle, laughing and bleeding, and no one dared to glue it back together.

But he’s not the only ghost in town.

Because they say another came for him.

Not one of Gotham’s own. Not Crime Alley born, or Arkham-bound. A boy, if you could still call him that. This one came with wind in his lungs and frost at his heels. With a laugh that froze the river and eyes that could see every version of the city stacked on top of itself like broken teeth. Glowing blue and ancient-eyed, like someone who knew too much about love and death and the cruel ways they blur.

The ghost didn’t belong to Gotham. But he stayed for him.

They say Joker Junior didn’t run when the ghost found him. Didn’t scream. Didn’t hide. Just looked at the boy glowing in the sky like a neon omen and said: “God, you’re late. I was beginning to think I made you up.”

And Danny—because that’s what the children call him now, just Danny—grinned like a god who’d waited lifetimes and said: “I thought I was supposed to stop you.”

Now they move through Gotham like a storm and its shadow. One trailing riddles, chaos, and grinning violence. The other bending light and chill, and humming softly to the bones of the dead.

They don’t save people. Not the way the capes do.

But the monsters scatter when they’re near. The haunted buildings go quiet. And the kids who get lost in the dark come back changed—smiling like they know a secret.

Some say Danny pulls Tim back from the edge every night. Others say Tim is the only thing keeping Danny from becoming something godlike and cold.

Others still say they’re both already long gone—and what walks Gotham now are just what love leaves behind when it starts to rot beautifully.

But here’s the part they all agree on:

They’re in love.

Twisted, terrifying love. The kind that warps magic and makes death look romantic. The kind that turns ghost stories into gospel. The kind you want to stay away from—but can’t help watching when it passes.

And sometimes, on Gotham’s highest rooftops—clocktower, cathedral, the burned-out pier of the old amusement park—they’ll dance.

Tim in blood-slicked purple. Danny in frostbitten black. Laughing like the world’s about to end.

And maybe it already did.

Maybe they're all that was left.

Or maybe—maybe—they were what came next. Love, haunting, and chaos in tandem. The prince and the ghost. The joke and the echo. Gotham’s newest myth. Its oldest curse. And the kind of love story you should never say out loud after dark.

[sprunkisongville]

WELCOME TO SONGVILLE!!!

Songville is one of the smallest towns in the Sprunki world, full of all the Sprunkis you know, alongside four extras you haven’t met just yet! Here on this blog you can ask them anything! Updated refs are in the works

Some info!

Sprunk Geography Sprunk Names Podcast Edition

Minty has switched from The Prophets of God to Muthoism

Jevin and Tunner are married, Grey joined their relationship

Tunner is Sky’s adopted father

Magness and Raddy started dating

All the houses are nearby in a semi-circle, connected to a road leaving the neighborhood into an area with shops and stuff like that.

Star is a scientist and makes astrology her entire personality

Samm is a former archeologist now doing art commissions from home

Mr. Tree is in the middle of the neighborhood and is one of the oldest trees still alive

Clukr and Garnold are married

Pinki and Oren are married with a kid, maybe another along the way!

Simon and Durple are dating

BOUNDARIES:

Do not force your ships onto me. That’s rude as fuck. Ship asks out of curiosity are allowed though, like “is so and so dating”, etc. just don’t be upset with my answer.

DNI pedo/map, or people who ship anything in that or incestuous nature. You’re not welcome here.

Do not be racist, transphobic, homophobic, or anything along those lines.

BE KIND.

THIS BLOG IS 13+ DUE TO MATURE THEMES OF GORE, VIOLENCE, ABUSE, HINTED SEXUAL ABUSE, ETC

WENDA HAS MOVED FROM THIS BLOG PRIMARILY TO @wendadventures

[thewritetofreespeech]

A Whole New World

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: in the wake of all the rats abandoning ship, you ask Aemond to leave King's Landing with you as well. [sort of in the vein of my tv show series?? mostly because I want to keep it seperate from the rest of my HOTD stuff that is more book related. part -X XX XXX]

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

“Let’s leave this place.”

Aemond looked up at you from his table. Maps and plans littering the surface. There were not enough hours in the day to make headway on a plan to attack or thwart Rhaenyra, so they had moved into your bedroom. “We will leave for Harrenhall in a few days’ time.” He told you. “We will be off soon enough.”

“No, I mean leave this place.” You told him. “Leave Westeros.”

Your husband looked shocked at your suggestion. Understandably. “You would have me leave Westeros. Leave my birthright.”

“It is not yours Aemond.” It was a bitter truth, but a truth none the less, and you were the only one that could tell him that without threat of death.

None of this was supposed to be theirs. Aegon nor Aemond. Deep down they all knew that. Knew that Viserys had not wavered in his final moments on who his favorite child was. Who his first and only was. Alicent could have given the former king 100 sons, and it would not have made up for the one he lost with his first wife. “Rhaenyra now has 7 dragons to our 1 with her dragon mongrels taking flight. Besides which her armies.”

“I have Vhagar!” Aemond shouted in anger. Rising to his feet. “The oldest, strongest, largest dragon in all Seven Kingdoms.”

“And a pack of wild dogs can take down a lion if their numbers are great. I am not trying to upset you Aemond, I’m simply following the maths.”

The prince took a deep breath though his nose and turned from you. Annoyed that you were right, but clearly didn’t want to admit it. “You want me to abandon the city, ney? Run away and hide like the rest of those cowards!”

Aegon had left the city, for his own protection. To where, you could not be sure. That may have been by design as many whispered about how Aemond would kill him in his bed if given the chance. You knew he wouldn’t do that; if for nothing else than the simple fact that it would be dishonorable to murder a cripple in their bed unarmed. His mother had been missing for days at a time now. Uninterested in the war efforts since her dismissal from the council. Such was her right, but the fact that she wouldn’t look you in the eye these days did not grant you comfort on what the former Queen was thinking. The rest seemed to slip out under the cover of darkness. Less and less people seemed to be in the castle. The rats saw that the ship was sinking and were abandoning it quickly.

“I don’t want you to ‘run away’ Aemond. I want you to live.”

Aemond huffed and turned from you again. “Better to die in battle then wither in obscurity.”

“And if you die, and Rhaenyra takes the city, what of me then? Die an honorable suicide like the Queens of old? Be a political prisoner here until the Queen forces me to marry one of her bastard heirs as a good will gesture?”

That got Aemond’s attention. The idea that you could die not nearly as infuriating as the thought that one of Rhaenyra’s “strong boys”, or even her Targaryen brood, would touch you. “That would never happen.”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t. Rhaenyra would have to kill me. If not for the simple fact that I would not bend the knee, but also for the fact that I am a charge to her claim.”

Your hand came to rest at your stomach. Still the same, but not for long. Aemond’s eye followed your hand, and his expression turned to shock before you raised his face to look at you with your other hand. “There are more world out there, my love. Across the Narrow Sea. Beyond. We could take Vhagar and make a new kingdom like your ancestors. We don’t have to stay here and fight over this one. We could have so much more.”

Aemond’s gaze dropped from your hold, but he took your hand at his cheek and held it. “You would have me abandon my family? Turn my back on them?”

“Have they not turned their back on you?” They blamed Aemond for everything. As if he put Aegon up on that stage and gave him a crown. You weren’t naïve enough to think your husband was blameless in his actions during this war, but they were looking for a scapegoat at this point and Aemond was the convenient target. “We are each other’s family now. We are all that matters.”

“Daeron….”

“He can come with us.” You felt maddened to the point of tears. You were fond of Daeron, the few times you had met. A sweet boy who was free of this place. Though you would honestly say anything to Aemond at this point to get him to come. “Helaena too, if you wish. We will fly to some far away place like Aegon and his sisters. Just please….please…let us leave this place.”

Aemond seemed to think about it for a long moment, before he gave you his answer and that was the end of it.

In the morning, Vhagar took flight over the city. Whether she went to Harrenhall with her rider or parts unknown, no one could know then. What was sure, as the histories tell us, was that it would be the last time the great dragon, her rider, or his wife ever came back to the city.

[mareastrorum]

Been chewing more on how C3 wound up here. What’s throwing me is the strange shift from the cast’s unflinching “yes, and” game in C2 to a misplaced feeling that they need to choose correctly in C3.

I want to be clear here that this isn’t a criticism post because I genuinely don’t know what’s happening here. It’s just odd behaviors that seem to signal a problem, and I don’t know what solution would resolve it. I’m not going to be so presumptuous as to hypothesize about any cast member’s thoughts.

In the Cooldown for C3E118 (and offhandedly previously), Laura and Ashley expressed some nervousness about making big decisions because they’re worried about making the “wrong” choice. Without more, that attitude alone would explain much of the party’s indecisiveness about key campaign questions. After all, their characters are the two Ruidusborn of most interest to the campaign villains, and other characters (especially Orym, Laudna, and Ashton) have insisted that Imogen and Fearne take the lead on Predathos.

But this isn’t a story in a vacuum. C2 got completely derailed multiple times. The Mighty Nein decided to steal a pirate ship and leave the continent the campaign was set on; shortly after they returned, they decided to reopen a collapsed tunnel to go the opposite side of the continent; then Caleb returned the Luxon Beacon and made themselves heroes of an enemy nation instantly. That’s not even getting into the fact that Molly died before the Nein got to Shadycreek Run (which absolutely would have been all about his backstory) or that Twiggy left an incredible magical artifact that wasn’t supposed to be given to the Nein. Each time, Matt adjusted and made it work. Granted, C2 was more of a sandbox campaign, but Matt demonstrated his flexibility as a DM time and again.

Like, as a general rule of thumb, DMs shouldn’t offer options that would torpedo the campaign. It’s rational to avoid situations that have a genuine possibility of undercutting the game. Matt has been DMing for a long time; he’s done a very good job of finding ways to make the campaign work regardless of the decisions the players make. Even when players do something directly against the signals he threw out (like Ashton trying to absorb a second shard despite consistent, dire warnings that it would kill him), he works with the players to come to a reasonable solution (Ashton survived but the shard wouldn’t take, and he got some character moments out of the failure). We, the audience, know Matt is good at pivoting when he needs to.

In addition to taking the players’ curveballs like a champ, Matt also takes big swings for the sake of the story. In C1, Matt broke his biggest city with a dragon invasion, then made a new god leading an undead titan to go stomp out the world’s oldest civilization. In C2, he let the players go off the map whenever and still made the digression relevant to their character arcs every time. Not to be parasocial, but if we can figure out that that Matt can handle this sort of thing, the players certainly have a better feel for it than us.

So what is going on in C3? We know Matt isn’t scared of breaking Exandria or destroying the pantheon: he set that possibility in motion as the default ending if the players did nothing. CR literally did a mini series about the start of the end of the world with EXU Calamity. Laura and Ashley were also in Downfall and making big choices between the gods and mortals. Breaking stuff is what they do!

Where did this idea that there’s a “wrong” choice come from? That type of thinking kills a lot of great improv, and the whole point of the “yes, and” exercise is to shake it off. While it’s incredibly obvious to say not to think that way, the real issue is sorting out why that mentality has taken hold at all. That’s a problem no amount of fan discussion is going to resolve.

[slyscoutess]

paring: sebastian vettel x fem!singer!reader summary: pilots should learn not to comment on their favorite artists . . . or maybe this is their tactic to get what they want writer: the oldest thing in my drafts, it clearly had to be my first passion in formula 1, one of the reasons I liked watching it, listening to Florence + The Machine, I just wanted to leave my love for sebs on record

liked by sebastianvettel, jessalexander, christinanadin and 4.636.585 others

yourusername I came for the pleasure, but I stay for the pain . . . New album DANCE FEVER. Out April 19 💙

store.yourname.com

📷: alvarezcamila

view all 32.075 comments

yournameupdate MOTHER IS BACK!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL

ynlnthinker EVERYBODY AND THEIR CHILD FREAKING RIGHT NOW

ynlnandthesiix not her coming back after years with new music and pretending to be normal

vettelchild somebody please check on sebs, i think the man is dead right about now

leclerccough just saw sebastian vettel himself in the likes, she posted it like 2 min ago???

patitowifey father is a hardcore fan just like us fr carlandomind I didn't even know he had Instagram??? pastryf2piastri pretty sure is a fanpage, there is nothing published yet

yournamecuunt Rumors of her divorce emerged in 2020 and she disappeared from the map and now appears with an album out of nowhere

andthesixburner queen behaviour???

liked by vertappwifey,rosinglovers, vettelbabs and 8.585 others

lovingwags New wag in the paddock?

seen at the Australian GP with some friends and members of the band that makes up her shows and team, yn ln was present at the Australian GP, ​​we cannot confirm which garage she was in, but I think we all have a certain hope of one in specific ( Sebastian please makes us proud

view all 475 comments

strollmothering That one blueyfever on twitter beign right all along

blueyfever OF COURSE I FCKING WAS formulaonfacts CAN'T FREAKING BELIEVE IT

ynthinker SCREAMING, CRYING AND THROWING UUUP

minivettel5 This woman is a freaking goddess

vettelhamm Sebastian must be just killing himself right about now

33tororoso Do we, Sebastian Vettel's children, finally have a mother?

maziemillian Isn't he like . . . married? blueyfever yeah! to her!!!! formulaonfacts okay grandma let's get you back to bed

whatamaxemmil I can't wait for blueyfever to be right

liked by sebastianvettel, charles_leclerc, lovingwags and 6.569.019 others

yourusername for years and years the words you didn't let me write suffocated me, the art you never let me see blinded me, the places you left me humiliated me, but finally my Graceland gained a different meaning and I'm no longer stuck in the bathroom with the same headache, everything you wanted from me didn't belong to you and I finally found someone who would give me the pen and not cut out my tongue, all my love, my affection, my future and my choices belong to him.

Because of him I have Dance Fever every night.

DANCE FEVER is yours to listen now.

view all 48.371 comments

yournameupdate OMG IS THAT????

ynlnthinker THAT IS SEBASTIAN VETTEL HIMSELF

vettelmemes OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

vettelchild WHAT DOES THIS MEAAAAAAN

formulaonfacts BLUEY WAS RIGHT WT???

lecfosi BLUEY THE OLDER WISER SIBLING charles_leclerc no? that would be me maxverstappen1 you are neither charles_leclerc I am her favorite lance_stroll keep dreaming

yournamecuunt the grid competing more for her mother's love than for the world championship

georgerussell63 You haven't seen them in person.

sebastianvettel posted a new video.

liked by sebastianvettel, charles_leclerc, lovingwags and 6.569.019 others

yourusername It's been three years and a pandemic of an intense creative process, four years of silently recording every movement of my life until dance fever came to me and was finally delivered to you, four years surrounded by incredible people, and as a thank you for me Wait patiently over the last four years, I'll be sharing a little of what I've been going through.

the Dance Fever bts is now on YouTube, I'm sorry for the length, it's been four years of recording.

view all 48.371 comments

charles_leclerc it's 2 in the mornig

yourusername and why aren't you sleeping, pretty sure already put you in bed?

maxverstappen1 I just stopped my sim race to watch something I basically live? yeah

vettelchild my god the amount of content from yn and sebastian, now I have diabetes and i'm still at 2019, they weren't even dating

lecsainzfosi wait . . . WHAT?

lance_stroll I will assume you got to 2020 and 2021 charles_leclerc often sleep on the sofa in their house during these landonorris you and practically everyone on the grid, even Lewlew charles_leclerc yeah but i am her favorite lance_stroll still on this?

yournamecuunt Now that you are intertwined in the world of F1, do you think Lance should just leave?

yourusername Hell no, that is my child, giving my life for him to be happy, never did anything wrong, will never do , everyone who complains about him just wants to make noise and distractions and isn't worrying about the race tsunodaaaa on my way to make a fanpage for this mother and son duo

The soft tendrils of dawn's first light seeped through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow upon the tranquil morning. Sebastian, now retired from the racing circuit, still grappled with the novelty of no longer being tethered to the demanding schedules of tracks worldwide. Yet, awakening beside his wife, cocooned in the serenity of their home, provided a deeply soothing sense of contentment.

As Sebastian nestled closer to his beloved, he could feel her gentle warmth radiating beside him. She slept peacefully, her worries and the frenetic pace of everyday life momentarily suspended. Ever since Bee came into their lives, their nights had become a balancing act between tending to their child's needs and stealing moments of rest. But on this particular night, they had slept deeply, as though replenishing themselves from an extended bout of weariness.

Her locks cascaded like silken waves over the pillow, delicately shrouding her serene countenance. The soft curves of her features bespoke the tranquility she had discovered in that fleeting moment of repose. A fond smile tugged at Sebastian's lips as he recalled the countless nights spent awake with her, cradling her in his arms as she delved into the depths of her creative musings. The restorative embrace of a full night's sleep had invigorated Sebastian. He savored a newfound sense of peace and autonomy, a luxury he hadn't known since bidding farewell to the adrenaline-fueled world of racing. Now, he could devote more of himself to his growing family, witnessing Bee's milestones and relishing in the simple joys of marital companionship.

As the world beyond their bedroom gradually stirred to life, the couple remained ensconced in their private sanctuary. Yet, the tranquil ambiance was momentarily shattered by the soft whimper of Bee, captured by the electronic monitor stationed nearby. With a reluctant sigh, Sebastian's wife stirred beside him, bidding farewell to the depths of slumber.

"Sebastian, your daughter wake up . . .", she groaned, as Bee's gentle cry pierced the stillness of the morning, the woman instinctively buried her face into her husband's chest, seeking refuge from the beckoning call of their daughter. Her soft sobs muffled against the warmth of his embrace, a silent plea for a few more moments of respite.

Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle softly at his wife's playful attempt to evade the inevitable. With a tender affection, he ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her frazzled nerves with each gentle stroke. Her muffled laughter reverberated against his chest, a testament to the enduring bond they shared, even amidst the chaos of parenthood. As Bee's cries persisted, Sebastian's wife reluctantly peeled herself away from the sanctuary of his embrace, a resigned smile tugging at the corners of her lips. With a loving glance exchanged between them, they silently acknowledged the shared journey of parenthood, filled with its moments of exhaustion and boundless love. With a whispered promise to return, Sebastian's wife slipped out of bed, ready to embrace the day and tend to their beloved daughter.

As the soft hues of morning bathed the room, casting a gentle glow upon their cozy sanctuary, the woman returned, cradling their precious Bee in her arms. Each step she took seemed to echo with the tender rhythm of maternal love, her eyes alight with a serene radiance that mirrored the dawn's gentle embrace.

Sebastian's heart swelled with affection as he watched his wife approach, the ethereal beauty of motherhood emanating from her every movement. With each delicate sway, Bee stirred slightly in her mother's arms, her angelic face still adorned with the remnants of sleep. As his wife drew nearer, Sebastian's eyes sparkled with an unwavering adoration, a silent testament to the profound love he held for both his wife and their darling daughter. In that fleeting moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the tender bond that bound their family together.

Bee, with her tiny hands outstretched, reached eagerly for her father, her sleepy gaze melting hearts with its innocence. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat as he eagerly scooped her up, enveloping her in a warm embrace that radiated with paternal love. With a contented sigh, his lover gently lowered Bee onto the bed, where the little one wobbled unsteadily before finding her footing. With a gleeful giggle, Bee propelled herself into her father's waiting arms, her laughter filling the room with its infectious melody. Sebastian's heart swelled with pride as he cradled their daughter close, showering her with affectionate kisses that elicited a chorus of delighted squeals. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their love, Sebastian's wife couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the family they had created together.

As she reclined on the bed, a gentle hand instinctively drifted to her burgeoning belly, where new life stirred with the promise of tomorrow. With each fluttering kick, her heart overflowed with anticipation, a silent prayer whispered for the blessings that lay ahead.

In the tranquil embrace of their shared love, Sebastian's wife felt as though she had finally found her own personal Graceland—a haven of warmth, purity, and boundless affection. And as the laughter of her husband and daughter echoed through the room, she knew that their home would forever be filled with the sweet symphony of love's enduring melody.

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, lovingwags and 569.019 others

sebastianvettel My Dearest,

As I sit down to write these words, I find myself immersed in thoughts of you, my heart overflowing with emotions that words alone cannot fully capture. Each day spent by your side feels like ascending to a throne, where you reign as my sovereign, my King. Your presence in my life has granted me a sense of liberation, a feeling of being truly Free from the constraints of the past.

Our journey together has been a whirlwind of joy and passion, a dance of souls caught in the frenzy of love. In your arms, I've discovered a rhythm unlike any other, a Choreomania that consumes us, leaving us breathless yet exhilarated. Whenever I find myself away from you, it's as if I've returned to familiar grounds, back in the embrace of a familiar town. You are my anchor, my sanctuary, my safe haven — a feeling encapsulated in the phrase Back In Town.

Together, we stand united against the odds, defying conventions and societal norms. We are rebels, fighters, Girls Against God in a world that seeks to confine us. In the depths of night, you are my beautiful paradox, my Dream Girl Evil. Your essence is both enchanting and mysterious, a captivating blend that keeps me endlessly intrigued.

Within the walls of our home, our love becomes a sanctuary, a Prayer Factory where we offer our hearts and souls in devotion to each other. It is here, in the sacred space we've created, that I find solace and strength. You possess a wisdom and insight that transcends time, a gift akin to that of the mythical Cassandra. Your intuition guides me, leading me towards a future filled with hope and promise.

In your arms, I've found my heaven, my nirvana — for Heaven is Here, whenever I'm with you. Your presence alone is enough to transform the ordinary into something extraordinary, turning mundane moments into memories I'll cherish forever. Your smile, like a radiant daffodil in a field of blooms, brings light and warmth to even the darkest of days. With you, each moment becomes a celebration of life, a testament to the beauty of love.

My love for you knows no bounds, transcending the limits of time and space. You are my guiding star illuminating the path before me with your boundless affection. Even in moments of separation, I exercise restraint, longing to hold you close yet savoring the anticipation of our reunion. Distance may test us, but it only serves to deepen my love for you, fortifying the bond we share.

Together, we are a force to be reckoned with, a Bomb waiting to explode with passion and desire. In your arms, I find solace, security, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. You are my muse, my inspiration, my Mermaid of the depths. Your allure is irresistible, drawing me in with your ethereal beauty and grace.

My dearest, these words pale in comparison to the depth of my affection for you. You are the beating heart of my existence, the light that guides me through the darkness.

With all my love,

Sebastian

tagged: yourusername

view all 48.371 comments

charles_leclerc alright gonna wrap it up, never gonna be this kind of romantic

carlossainz55 not even shakespere thought about writing something like that, mate

maxverstappen1 When will it be my turn?

kellypiquet what? maxverstappen1 when will it be my turn to be this romantic

lance_stroll MAMA AND PAPA

fernandoalo_oficial beautiful letter, really big, not gonna read but it's wonderful

jensonbutton I've never seen anyone who had so much to say, my god lewishamilton stole all the romance of the century landonorris That's why we live in the century of whoredom

yournamecuunt DID HE JUST MAKE A LETTER WITH ALL HER SONGS IN ORDER?

aussiegrit he's crazy romantic sentimental like that

motheryourname why hasn't yourusername commented yet?

lance_stroll She's here crying like hell at Sebs' farewell party alex_albon She's been really emotional today, with the party and everything. landonorris It's the hormones of this new pregnancy ynthinker THE WHAT sebastianvettel Lando??? yourusername FOR FUCKS SAKE landonorris sorry, sorry SORRY MOTHER

[shiny-jr]

map of heartslabyul

Congratulations! You have just acquired a map of Heartslabyul. Heartslabyul is one of the seven nations, and the first in which you will venture into for your search for a way home. It is the nation that worships King Rosehearts, the Pyro Archon and God of Law.

Choose your path carefully.

Ashen Fells is an area located in Heartslabyul. 

This region includes Brunweld Lake, Cradle of Fables, Chesswick, Hobbletide Shore, Mabloch Isle, Pat Port, Tanglewood Shrine, Tatterfell Cliffs. The area consists of shores and cliffs along with rivers and lakes.

   ♥ Brunweld Lake is a subarea located in Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul.

It's said that this lake was formed by a crater left by an ancient god of chaos. A god that had the ability to forge legendary weapons, and in testing one of particularly astounding strength, they created a depression within the earth’s surface that would become Brunweld Lake.

   ♥ Cradle of Fables is a subarea located in Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul.

It is just across the waters from Mabloch Isle and the nearest Heartslabyul settlement is Pat Port. 

A dense forest where no mortals venture and come back from. The shadows and shade cast by the dense foliage create an intense darkness, making it easy for even the most skilled navigators to get lost. 

It is said to be a safe haven for immortal beings, and the birthplace for many entities and deities including the current Archon of Pyro.

   ♥ Chesswick is the capital and a subarea located in Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul.

Located in the central part of Ashen Fells, Chesswick boasts the largest city in the world both by size and population. It’s only five hundred years old, but it showcases castle walls and flowing rivers.

          ❧ Castle of the Court of Hearth is located in Chesswick, Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul.

It is the headquarters of the Court of Hearth and the Knights of the Gavel. Inside are many offices of court members, such as the Head of Investigation and Regent among others. On the same grounds, the castle also houses those loyal to the crown in the Knights of the Gavel. 

It is one of the oldest buildings still standing in Heartslabyul, built even before the Fyrosian Palace. When executions occur, they most always take place here or in the palace.

          ❧ Chesswick’s Market District is located in Chesswick, Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul. 

Located at the gates of the city, it’s a convenient location for merchants and other travelers. The several two story buildings house multiple shops, restaurants, and other establishments but are all strictly kept up to code to avoid punishment by patrolling knights. 

          ❧ Furnace is located in Chesswick, Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul.  

It is an underground fighting rink run by a figure nicknamed the Blue Brawler. The location is a closely guarded secret and only heard in rumors thought to be outlandish. Gambling and brawling are high crimes, so this type of establishment is highly illegal. Despite that, it is a very popular place, as many find thrill and entertainment in these activities that are outlawed. 

          ❧ Fyrosian Palace is located in Chesswick, Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul.

It is the home of the Archon of Pyro, god of law, King Rosehearts. Located in the heart of Chesswick, it is a common stop for travelers to marvel at the sight but never step past the towering gates. Knights of the Gavel patrol the grounds at all hours, and they only allow a select few pass. These select few include council members, knights, emissaries, the occasional guest, or a rule-breaker escorted in cuffs.

          ❧ Monastery of the Divine Flame is located in Chesswick, Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul. 

The monastery is run by the Church of Heart and is used in worshipping the Pyro Archon Rosehearts. It is a holy place managed by the devoted adherents of King Rosehearts who treat his laws as commandments. It is thought by the most zealous believers that sins will be punished by strings of eternal flames which he wields.

          ❧ Pyro Archon Statue is located in Chesswick, Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul. 

It can be found at the plaza in front of the Monastery of the Divine Flame. The statue is in the image of the Pyro Archon, Rosehearts, with a crown and a scepter.

          ❧ The Teapot is located in Cheswick, Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul. 

It is the oldest pub in the nation, even predating Roseheart’s reign, or so they claim. It is one of the best managed establishments, as the distribution of alcohol is carefully regulated by law to prevent misuse. The Teapot has not a single mark tarnishing their perfect record. 

However, recently, it seems as if there are shady dealings and whispers of unrest floating throughout the historic pub. Ask around enough without gaining suspicion, and some tipsy folks may let it slip that the Red Thief apparently frequents the establishment.

   ♥ Hobbletide Shore is a subarea located in Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul. 

A stretch of shorelines along the coast facing east and north toward the unknown. Along these shores there’s some woods, but not much else. 

   ♥ Mabloch Isle is a subarea located in Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul.

An island technically part of Heartslabyul, but it is inhabited mainly by Havfolk and Hydrians, the people of Octavinelle. While they themselves are not an issue, the Pyro Archon is keenly aware of the shady businesses practically encouraged by the Hydro Archon. That is unacceptable. If there are shady dealings taking place, it is only happening because the island is distant. However, every few years, Rosehearts takes it upon himself to travel there and make doubly sure everything is in order while also punishing those that do break the law.

   ♥ Pat Port is a subarea located in Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul. 

A port city where most incoming travelers and goods coming from off the continent arrive. It is said that a feathered minor deity now long passed was once friends with the Pyro Archon. This feathered deity was an expert in ocean voyages while the archon detested the waters due to his element. So, Rosehearts entrusted him with the responsibility to handle ocean-related issues and incoming merchants by boat. When the deity passed, the Archon renamed the location after his companion.

   ♥ Tanglewood Shrine is a subarea located in Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul. 

It is an ancient amphitheater that predates the Roseheart reign, all the way back to the time when the god of chaos ruled. Here is where all sorts of activities took place, such as gambling, drinking, fighting, and even illegal exchanges. It is a dark reminder of the past when the god of chaos allowed forced fights, indentured servitude, and all sorts of other activities.

   ♥ Tatterfell Cliffs is a subarea located in Ashen Fells, Heartslabyul. 

There are a few scattered villages and towns here that specialize in livestock farming.

Brackenreach Highlands is an area located in Heartslabyul. 

This region includes Broken Bridges, Feygrass Springs, Foxglove Glen. The area consists of meadows and ruins, and is a region where many beastfolk outside of Savanaclaw dwell.

   ♥ Broken Bridges is a subarea located in Brackenreach Highlands, Heartslabyul. 

Ruins of an empire lay here. There is hardly anything left, it’s so ancient that it predates not only the Rosehearts reign but also the Age of Chaos. One of the only remaining pieces of the empire whose name is lost to time, is a marble inscription within the floor of an abandoned temple just barely standing. The inscription is oval shaped, and appears to be the side profile of a mysterious entity. The only thing known is that they were a god of black and white.

   ♥ Feygrass Springs is a subarea located in Brackenreach Highlands, Heartslabyul. 

A land of flowers, one of the smaller scenic flora areas. There are many fields here that supply the world with bouquets, honey, and other goods.

   ♥ Foxglove Glen is a subarea located in Brackenreach Highlands, Heartslabyul.  

A city populated heavily by beastfolk of all manner, from both continents and all seven nations.

Butterfly Vale is an area located in Heartslabyul. 

This region includes Crookedspire, Jaws of the Wildwood, Maze of Madness, Tulgey Thicket. The area consists of meadows and dense woods, and is a region where threats and beasts may still lurk, hidden in the wilderness to avoid divine wrath.

   ♥ Crookedspire is a subarea located in Butterfly Vale, Heartslabyul. 

A city established by the Pyro Archon himself. In the early days of the Rosehearts reign, he faced a fresh rebellion that accused him of cruelty and tyranny. These rebels even utilized an uncontrollable beast in an attempt to defeat him. In response, Rosehearts quashed the rebellion and slayed the beast, building a settlement upon the ashes that remained of his enemies.

   ♥ Jaws of the Wildwood is a subarea located in Butterfly Vale, Heartslabyul. 

Here is where many beasts dwell, hidden by the mountains and forests, as they wish to remain hidden to avoid the searing divine flame of the Pyro Archon that would quickly execute them without trial.

   ♥ Maze of Madness is a subarea located in Butterfly Vale, Heartslabyul. 

It is a natural maze of forests, almost meticulously arranged into a confusing and seemingly endless labyrinth. It was thought that one of the God of Chaos’ subordinates was an entity of dendro that made the maze.

   ♥ Tulgey Thicket is a subarea located in Butterfly Vale, Heartslabyul. 

A strange and odd forest home to arcane individual beasts and people. It is a place said to be rich in treasures, but full of dangers. Many mythical entities and monsters dwell in the dark here.

Crown Ridge is an area located in Heartslabyul. 

This region includes Gryphon Spires, Mad Ring of Fire. The area consists of mountain ranges and volcanoes, along with cliffs and ruins. This is the border between Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw.

   ♥ Gryphon Spires is a subarea located in Crown Ridge, Heartslabyul. 

The southern part of the peaks contains the remaining ruins of the city where the God of Chaos dwelled, which was formerly the capital of the nation.

          ❧ Wonderfall Ruins is located in Gryphon Spires, Crown Ridge, Heartslabyul. 

It was once the capital of Old Heartslabyul, ruled by the God of Chaos. After he was executed in an uprising, the rebel who slayed him, Rosehearts, took his place and reshaped the land. It’s been said that Rosehearts gathered all his supporters in Wonderfall during the fall of the Chaos God’s empire, and upon his enemy’s death, Rosehearts rained hellfire upon every settlement that never swore allegiance to him. Only once he burned the enemies to ash, did he lead the people north where they settled to build a new capital called Chesswick. 

It is said that Riddle never burnt Wonderfall to the ground, because he wished for all to see the ruins of the empire he tore down. To see evidence of his past, and never turn traitor unless they wished to meet the same fate the Chaos God and all his followers did.

   ♥ The Mad Ring of Fire is a subarea located in Crown Ridge, Heartslabyul. 

The range of mountains extends from the western most point of the ridge spanning across the entire space and ending only just before the Gryphon Spires. It is speckled with volcanoes that were supposedly formed when there was conflict between the God of Chaos against the God of Strength and God of Intellect.

Fiddlewood Hills is an area located in Heartslabyul. 

This region includes Liddleshire Village, Mimsyford, Puddlebrook Town. The area consists of rolling hills and pastures along scattered towns and villages. 

   ♥ Liddleshire Village is a subarea located in Fiddlewood Hills, Heartslabyul. 

Liddleshire Village is a small community where there are more animals than people. It’s a quaint and quiet little village at the high end of the hills bordering the woods.

   ♥ Mimsyford is a subarea located in Fiddlewood Hills, Heartslabyul. 

Mimsyford is a city where many new travelers arrive, as it’s the closest to the other nations. It is the city with the most diverse magic users, here there is a wielder of every element and all sorts of styles. From here, most make their way to Chesswick.

   ♥ Puddlebrook Town is a subarea located in Fiddlewood Hills, Heartslabyul. 

Puddlebrook Town is a fishing community settled along the shores. When merchants do not arrive at Pat Port, they arrive here.