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Too many thoughts, head full

@lordofseagulls / lordofseagulls.tumblr.com

(She/Her) Lesbian, current interest: disco elysium; Asks are welcome; I posts a lot of: garden variety shit posts, art, gay little films, disco elysium, x files, hacks, DWP, house md; Art blog: @lordofseagulls-art; Header gif: @buffysummers
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Reblogged psych-is-the-name
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Concept: a D&D adventure where the party stops to rest at a village inn where they seem to be the only guests. The village appears prosperous and well taken care of, but its inhabitants are strangely morose and blunt-spoken. Whether the party decides to investigate or attempts to move on, it quickly becomes apparent that something is terribly wrong: any effort to initiate violence or utter untruth fails as the offender is wracked with terrible pain, unkind words stick in the throat unspoken – and worst of all, anyone who attempts to leave the village becomes confused and finds themselves coming back the way they came. When (politely) questioned, the villagers will say only that the party must speak to the wizard whose tower lies to the east.

Upon reaching the wizard’s tower, the party is met by a slender, youthful-looking man with an unnaturally deep voice, who greets them with distracted courtesy, and – after making brief introductions – reveals that he knows why the party is there, and that it’s indeed all his fault. Thirty years ago, the wizard attempted to cast a blessing of peace and prosperity over the village, but the spell went awry: the enchantment proved to be much more powerful and long-lasting than intended, and its notion of what constitutes a breach of the peace far more expansive. Not only does it prohibit physical violence, but also insults, lies both overt and of omission, and simple failures of courtesy. Even leaving the village seems to be construed as an act of abandonment, and therefore of emotional violence.

Luckily, the wizard believes he’s discovered why the enchantment has become a curse. Though it was intended to ensure that people would be kind to one another, it ironically rendered its own fulfillment impossible, as the villagers began to treat each other well out of fear of reprisal rather than true good will. A sufficiently great act of genuine kindness, unalloyed by self-interest, would shatter the enchantment in an instant – but how can such a thing be brought about, in a place where all have been made strangers to love?

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Reblogged
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Rex is believed to have been the dog of John E. Stow, one of the city’s longest-practicing fruit merchants until his death in 1884. For years, people have gathered sticks and fallen branches to place at the loyal dog’s resting place. Situated under a tree with plenty of sticks around, visitors often leave a stick across Rex’s paws as a tribute. Someone even left a picture of their own dog there, perhaps a beloved pet who had passed away, as if to say, “Rex, look after my little one.”

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