#and if you think a system has a choice on who they split

[sovereignsystem]

If you get mad at systems/headmates for having problematic sources I wish you a very die

[joelsmochi]

honey ♡ joel miller

rating: E 18+ only pairing: beekeeper!joel x f!reader summary: joel is obviously beekeeping age warnings: not proofread, no outbreak, best friends dad!joel, soft!joel, unspecified 30+ year age gap, a hint unrealistic in the sense that sarah doesn’t care, lots of bee science, mentions of bees/bee stings (ouch), honey play (i had to), fingering, f receiving oral, kitchen sex, pet names, plenty of dirty talk (mhm yes yum) a/n: i totally didn’t google bee sex for like an hour just to be accurate… nope… no i didn’t. lol enjoy & happy valentines day ;)

“Which eyeshadow should I use?”

You looked at the small, black palette and its array of choices before telling Sarah, “Purple, it goes great with green dresses.”

Sarah began to brush the product onto her eyelids while she talked about her plans for tonight with her boyfriend, Alex; her voice became white noise as you caught a glimpse of her father in the backyard working on something.

“Your dad’s a beekeeper, right?” You asked without realizing you interrupted her.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Cool… How’d he get into that? Doesn’t seem like the type to… Save bees?”

“What do you mean?” She mumbled beneath her working hand.

Shrugging, you tried to keep your expression and tone neutral. “Aren’t beekeepers usually a bit dorky?”

“My dad is a dork.”

“I mean, not really,” you chuckled, watching the man pull out the different trays and examine them. “It’s cute, your dad keeping bees… How old is he again?”

Sarah only rolled her eyes.

“He’s definitely beekeeping age,” you continued. “Kinda sweet. Him caring for a colony of bees in your backyard.”

Your best friend was now looking at you look at her father—correction: you were ogling him. Your attempts at seeming unbothered by his looks failed. Sarah always said you wore your heart on your forehead sometimes.

You just couldn’t help it; Joel was tall and big and broad and… Older. He wore a tough exterior, one that always intimidated you, but now you see him tending to bees. The man was a softie at heart, not to mention insanely hot.

His skin tanned even deeper from the long hours of being in the sun, and his forehead littered with droplets of sweat. Was it so wrong to think about Joel f—

“Sarah, I wanna fuck your d—“

“Oh, really?”

You shrugged and sat down on her bed. “Can you blame me?! He’s like… Twenty times hotter than the guys our age.”

“He’s also twenty times your age,” she spat.

“Doesn’t he have a brother?” You shamelessly asked.

She scoffed and looked at you in disbelief. “Yeah, who’s married and has three kids.”

You groaned softly. “Bummer.”

“You have a fucking insane sex drive, you know?”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you whined, “It’s making me masturbate more than I’d like.”

“You know what, if you wanna make the bold attempt to fuck my fifty year old dad then you have my blessing,” she sarcastically told you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and stared at her shit-eating grin, waiting for her to tell you she was joking. “Don’t bullshit me, Sarah, ‘cause you know I will.”

“Ah—la la la la la! I am not—I am not listening to it anymore. Get it out of your system before I take it back.”

You pretended to lock your lips and throw the key away as she got back on her boyfriend, but all you could think about was her dad.

♡

You waited for Sarah’s boyfriend’s car to leave the driveway before shakily fixing your hair and lip gloss, then you walked into the backyard with eyes set on the man and his work.

“Mr. Miller,” you called once you were a few feet away from him.

He looked up for a split second and motioned his head as a greeting, saying your name in response.

“Bees?”

“Yes, ma’am. Somethin’ I can help you with?”

Shrugging, you walked a little closer but kept your distance fearing a bee sting. “Maybe.”

He lifted a panel up and briefly examined it until he noticed the lingering silence. His dark eyes locked with yours and he sensed your hesitation. “You allergic?”

You only shook your head.

“They’re calm if you are.”

I am so not fucking calm right now, you thought.

“C’mere darlin’. I’ll show ya.”

He used his index and middle finger to beckon you, and you instantly fixated on why you were there in the first place.

You made the daring move to take a few more steps, ears coaxed by the hum of the colony.

“They usually only sting if you annoy them, or smell like a flower.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t spray floral perfume on my shirt this morning,” you joked.

He almost laughed as the bees didn’t seem to care for you so far. “Honeybees really don’t want to sting you.”

“‘Cause it kills ‘em, right?”

Nodding, Joel says, “Exactly. Their number one goal is to protect the queen. Second is to survive whatever threats they face.”

“How’d you get into this kinda stuff?” You asked.

You were trying to find some way to bring up your question without being sudden or rude, though beekeeping didn’t seem like a helpful topic.

“When Sarah was little she used to get a lot of rashes and she had some bad allergies. That over the counter medicine didn’t help, but honey helped. The natural shit— stuff they sell at the store… Well, it gets expensive. And I didn’t have as good a job as I do now... So I figured I’d give it a go and make my own honey.“

“That’s sweet of you. My dad always had me tough it out,” you chuckled.

“I have plenty stashed away in the kitchen. You’re welcome to take some,” he offered. “Hey, what was it you needed?”

“Oh, uh.” You pursed your lips unsure of whether or not you should lie. “Well, I have this sort of… Itch.”

“Itch? It’s not an STD is it, ‘cause I don’t think honey can help with that.”

You knew it was a deadpan joke but the tension had your face stuck in a scrunch.

“No. Not an STD,” you answered. “I just, uh… I really like you, I guess.”

“I hope so, you’ve been eating up half my groceries for the past twenty somethin’ years.”

Idiot.

“No, I mean…” You realized you wouldn’t be able to ask him. “Never mind, uh. Just forget it.”

He watched you turn and begin walking away before it dawned on him. “Oh!”

You faced him again, scratching your head and giving him a nervous look. “Yeah, like I said: forget it. We can just pretend I never asked—“

“Come here,” he said, adjusting his jeans and walking to the other side of the apiary. “Wanna show ya somethin’.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your stress response of fleeing the scene and standing beside him again.

“Do you know why bees are so loyal to their queen?” He asked after pulling a panel out to show you.

“Mnh-mnh.”

“The queen is the only bee in the entire hive that can produce more bees. Again, a bee’s second main goal is to preserve the life of their species. The queen produces pheromones that calm the bees down and keep the structure within the colony. Drone bees are male bees that really only exist to mate with the queen when she’s a virgin and out of the hive. Worker bees are females that aren’t the queen, but they’re very nurturing. Especially to the queen because she’s the one in charge.”

“Ahh, a matriarchy. Count me in,” you giggled.

Joel chuckled and pulled a switchblade out of his pocket before forcing the blade to whip out. “Do you know how bees mate?”

His voice sounded a little more quiet, and his eyes met yours with curiosity. You shook your head and waited for him to explain.

“When a new queen is selected, she goes out just one time to find a group of drones who will essentially take her virginity. And drones have an endophallus so after they ejaculate into her, their insides are ripped out and the drone dies. When a new drone comes up to mate with the queen, he removes the last guy’s endophallus and does the same thing. Mate with her… And die. She can mate with about ten or twenty different drones before flying back to the hive and laying eggs.”

“So the drones’ only purpose is to mate with a queen?” You asked.

He began cutting away a small piece of the wax, and the honey trickled down slowly.

“It’s the only reason he lives,” Joel muttered. You watched his thick fingers scoop up the liquid gold and he raised them to your lips. “He waits… And waits… And waits… For the right queen to come along.”

He smirked at your amused expression.

“Are you trying to seduce me by telling me the sexual nature of bees?”

He softly shook his head and glanced at your shiny lips. “Not trying to seduce you. Just tellin’ you what most men really want.”

Exhaling, you tried to ignore his fingers lingering in front of your face. The sickly sweet smell of honey filled your nostrils as his words echoed inside of your head.

“Go on,” he whispered, “have a taste.”

It took you a few extra seconds to build up the confidence in order to take him on his dare, but you made sure you did it as slowly as possible.

Your lips parted and he immediately felt your warm breath flow over his fingers; instinctively, your tongue darted out to catch a drop of the honey before it fell to the ground. Then you wrapped your lips around his digits, softly moaning at the sweet tasting nectar that coated his wood scented fingers.

WIth steady eyes you watch his brown orbs darken with lust, hearing him let out a huff and seeing the muscles in his face relax as if your slick tongue gave him the satisfaction he’d been seeking for a long time.

You swirled your tongue around, persisted to taste every last drop. The thickness coated your throat while you desperately wanted it to be something other than honey.

Your lips left his hand with a wet pop that prompted him to lick whatever saliva and honey remained on his fingers.

“Tastes good.”

“Just good?”

“Tastes delicious,” you corrected.

He let out a soft chuckle and put the wood panel back in its place.

“Sarah know you’re out here?”

After rolling your eyes and smirking you said, “She doesn’t need to know. Actually quite sure she wouldn’t want to know. Besides, Alex just picked her up, so.”

“So we’re all alone,” he finished.

“I’m gonna go get some of that honey you were talking about. Though I might need your help finding the right cabinet.”

He watched you walk back into the house before following you; once inside he saw you reaching into a cabinet in the corner, but a big red bruise on your arm caught his attention.

Joel walked over to you and grabbed your arm. Confused, you tried to see what he was looking at to no avail.

“You got stung right here,” he said as if he read your mind. He started walking over to the correct cabinet.

Frowning, you lifted your arm before spotting the bump. “Weird. Didn’t even feel it.”

“S’normal,” he muttered.

He stepped in front you to lift you up underneath your arms and sit you on top of the kitchen island.

You carefully watched as he opened up a sealed mason jar and stood between your legs.

“Mmkay. Lift your arm up.”

You did as he told and tried not to grimace while he scraped the stinger out. Honestly you didn’t have to try too hard; he looked so good like this, taking good care of you. Focused and confident like he’d done this a million times. You were certain he had.

He dipped a finger into the jar and swiped a little honey over the bump, carefully rubbing it in and drifting his gaze to your eyes.

“Helps the itch,” he spoke. “You said you had one, right?”

“Think I’ve got a bigger itch,” you replied.

“Hmm. Where at?”

Biting your bottom lip you trailed a finger over your neck, finding your sweet spot and rubbing a small circle over it. “Here.”

Joel rubbed a some honey on your neck and lapped it up like a thirsty dog. He held back on sucking the skin, mindful that you might not be fond of hickeys.

“I get it?” His voice strained.

You hummed. “No… No it’s went down a little bit. Tryyy… Here.”

Your clavicle.

More honey. More licking.

“How ‘bout now?”

You took your shirt off revealing your breasts. “Try here, and here.”

Your breath shook when the cold liquid was smeared over your hardened nipples. Once he took the first one into his mouth you let a desperate breath and held the curve of his head in your palm, letting him have his way with your tits.

“Nope, still there,” you spoke once he pulled away.

His fingers found the button on your shorts, then the zipper.

“Damn itches,” he said, “they’re always so damn stubborn. Ain’t that right? S’okay. Think I have a remedy for that.”

Just like that your shorts and panties were off and his fingers scooped up some more honey—more than what was necessary for anything.

He bent down to your glistening pussy and lazily rubbed the honey all over. You’d be lying if you said that alone didn’t make that knot inside of you twist harder.

Joel’s tongue eagerly met your clit, and he didn’t bother wasting anymore time with teasing you. A gurgling moan left his mouth once he tasted your juices mixing with the honey, creating the perfect elixir for his tastebuds.

Your legs clamped around his head reactively but he was strong enough to force them apart and keep them open.

Whilst he sucked and pulled and lapped around your clit, your hands were reaching, searching for anything to grasp. As a result you ended up knocking over the jar and spilling its contents, but you were too dazed to give a fuck.

Somewhat annoyed with you flailing around like you’d never been eaten out before, Joel smacked the back of your thigh. You shuddered and calmed your body down, settling with pulling on his hair relentlessly since the force of his smack stung a little.

He preferred it that way; take your tension out on him. Make him hurt if it meant you felt good. It only stroked his ego.

His tongue slipped between your pussy lips and slurped up whatever it could, the vibrations making you cry out his name. He did it again and again and again and again and a-fucking-gain until he was certain you were screaming from an orgasm.

Joel moaned at your thick cum pouring out of your cunt and down his sticky chin, drinking up anything he wasn’t missing.

He only stopped when he figured you’d had enough and stood eye level with you while fumbling with his belt buckle.

“I think that itch got a little deeper now,” he cockily said, “wouldn’t you say?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly blown, mouth agape, and chest heaving. “I think you can reach it just fine, Joel.”

Holding back a boastful laugh, he lined his erection up with your soft entrance and slid inside carefully.

“So pretty,” he whispered, “you look so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

You pulled his face in for a sloppy kiss, happily tasting the mixture of you and his honey. He noticed your hand was tacky from the spill and stuck a few fingers into his mouth, spreading the stickiness anywhere he could get it.

“Your cock,” you moaned into his chin. “So big.”

“It’s all yours, princess,” he moaned.

His hips pulled back and then snapped back into yours; his tip pressing into the deepest part of your pussy.

“Fuck. You get so fucking deep,” he praised. “S’it feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you said against your will. “Oh my God, just like tha—fuck!”

Joel fucked you just the way you liked: fast, but not sloppily or too hard. He watched his cock disappear into you a dozen times, and he grew harder than he ever had before.

“You look so pretty with my cock inside. Such a dirty fucking girl,” he shouted over your moans. “You take it so well, baby.”

Joel felt the his orgasm begin to arrive so he pulled out and took a step back; you whined a bit and reached for him but you were already so sore.

Meanwhile he just undressed himself and laid you down on the marble countertop, climbing on top of you not long after.

“I hear you, baby,” he cooed. “You don’t need to beg… I’m gon’ take real good care a’you.”

You lazily smiled and wrapped your legs around his broad waist.

“There you go,” he whispered against your lips as he slid back into you, hearing your whines turn into moans. “There you go, sweetheart. I got you.”

He returned back to his original pace, only his hips thrusted harder into you. You felt every curve and vein along his cock, every inch he gave to you.

Your nails clawed at his back and feet dug into his hips. You reached for him in any way you could. His lips danced with yours as you drank each other’s honey-coated moans.

“Joel, fuck. Oh, Joel I’m gonna cum,” you admitted.

He felt your back arch off of the counter as if your tone was indicating enough.

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so well. I got you, I got you. Need you to look at me, darlin’, can you do that? Can ya look at me with those pretty eyes when you cum?”

You struggled to open your eyes, wanting to wilt up at the intensity building inside of you. But once you saw his eyes again you were hooked.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, wearing the proudest grin imaginable. “Doing such a good job, let it out sweetie. You can cum.”

“I’m cu—oh!”

“I know, babygirl. I can feel it. Let it out for me. Let it out for daddy.”

He watched and held you as you writhed from your orgasm; your skin was on fire, stomach fluttering with elation.

Joel loved the sound of your voice calling his name, so precious and shameless. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to make you his own, even if it had to be temporarily.

“Cum inside me,” you breathed out, feeling overstimulated and overstretched. “Need you to—ah.“

He leaned down for another kiss just when he began to cum inside, a feeling so raw and deep he hadn’t felt in years. He forgot how fucking good it felt, and savored it by pushing through every painful bit of the overstimulation.

Joel gave you a few more soft kisses and slowly got off of the island. He ran a hand over your thighs and watched you come down from your high.

“My hair is covered in honey,” you giggled.

“Let’s go wash you up. Maybe we can find a few more itches to scratch.”

[wosoamazing]

Against All Odds

Summary: You find yourself with a career ending injury, but Beth and Viv, your guardians and Leah are there for you. Based on this request.

Warnings: Death (mentions of fact Rs parents are dead), allusions to cancer, very bad knee injury, hospitals, paramedics, passing out, one section contains talks of Leah’s endometriosis, a bit sad -> Let me know if there is anything else.

A/N: I really liked this when I first wrote it, but I don't know anymore, maybe just because I hate editing so I was projecting my feelings about editing onto my fic. But anyway I hope you like it.

You were part of the AWFC and the Lionesses, however football wasn’t the only sport you played in at a professional level, you were also a Track and Field athlete, you were a youth world champion, but not many people knew, the Soccer seemed to outshine the Athletics, so no one found out. It was getting close to the stage of having a discussion with the British Olympic Association about whether you were going to do both Football and Athletics at the olympics or whether you could only do one, and if you could only do one whether you got to make the choice or if they did. But that conversation was no longer needed. Team GB wasn’t going to be at the Olympics for Women’s Football so you only had one choice, and that was Athletics, however there wasn't really the question of whether you would qualify or not. It was a certainty now that you were going to the Olympics, considering the fact you were running sub 10.6 for 100 metres. You actually qualified for the 2020 Olympics but you were only 13, so it was decided you weren't going, even though you were faster than some of the athletes you were just too young.

You were one stride away from the finish line, you had done it, shown that even despite your age you deserved to be at the olympics, that last stride would cause you to have run sub 10.7 at the qualifiers, which was a good time, since you hadn’t trained in 6 months, due to the World Cup and England Olympic qualifiers. However that last stride went wrong, you still made it across the finish line, but something went badly wrong, a shooting tearing splitting pain went through your knee as your body collapsed onto the ground, tears were streaming out of your eyes, your surrounds were a haze, heaps and heaps of bright yellow people surround you, they were paramedics you think, they were asking you questions, but it hurt too much to process anything. Your brain was also preoccupied with the fact that you would most likely not be going to the Olympics this year, or maybe even never. You weren't dumb, you couldn't actually process what the paramedics were saying, nor had you seen your knee, but there was no way this was a simple injury, your knee felt like it had exploded, a bomb had gone off, this was a big injury, if the pain causing you to be on the verge of passing out wasn't enough to tell you this, the immediate arrival of like 10 paramedics was definitely enough to tell you something really bad had happened. Your world was literally crumbling around you, you needed football and track, you didn’t want to face the fact that you might never get to be a pro again. You thought you heard someone say something about moving you onto a stretcher and to the ambulance before you passed out.

_____

“Viv, has she sent you a message? She isn’t replying to any of mine, she should be here by now.”

“Maybe it's just run over time and so she is still racing.” Viv replied, trying to comfort Beth.

Beth and Viv were two of the three teammates who knew about your athletics. You couldn't really keep it from them, considering you did live with them, the trophies, the photos, the ‘shrines’ you had. Leah also knew, as you went to the same school and due to the schools sport buddy system she was your sport buddy, you messaged her almost daily since you were 10 and looked up to her so much, she was an inspiration to you. However, Leah never realised how much you actually did idolise her until she saw said ‘shrines’ when she came into your room the day you were setting it up, to give you a present. She looked around the room, above your desk she saw your Mum’s last olympic Jersey framed, with photos of you and her at the track surrounding it in a heart shape. There was also a single photo in the middle of the heart of you and her, you were holding a massive trophy and a huge grin was plastered on your face, but she couldn't help but notice how weak your Mum looked she was in a wheelchair, then it clicked that was the last time your Mum saw you run. You had just won your first junior athletics championships, in that photo, it was a week before your Mum died. Leah knew that because you told her one day, when she asked you which sport you would choose, you said you would forever do both. She then saw the photo from your Dad’s military honour funeral, along with his cap hung next to it, above your dresser which was placed just next to your desk, another heart surrounded it, but this time it was photos of him and his platoon wearing their Y/L/N bibs watching your races at the championships while they were deployed, a photo of him in rehab, kicking a ball to you after he lost his leg and was learning how to use to prosthetic one so he could go back to duty, the photo of your Dad’s platoon surprising you at on of your competitions just after you Dad had died on duty was also there. Between the two hearts was a family of the three of you, you were only small, it hurt her to think that was most likely one of the last family photos you had, you were just so young. She then turned to see what the third ‘shrine’ you were in the middle of making was. She saw you placing framed letters, certificates, medals, and photos in a heart shape around yet another item and photo of someone who helped you massively and inspired you, expect this time she felt her heart grow warm, it was her england debut shirt, she had signed and gifted to you, along with a photo of you mid jump into her arms, after the 2020 Euros Final, celebrating her win with her. You saw your so called shrines your three lifes, your Athletics life which was inspired by your Mum, your everyday life which you attributed to your Dad, and your Football life which was inspired by Leah.

There was also another reason Beth and Viv knew about the athletics and that was because you had no other family, and someone had to sign permission slips, and when you moved in with Beth and Viv and they become your legal guardians according to the state, meaning that they were the ones now required to sign permission slips, so they knew everything.

—

“Viv, I’m going to go call her,” “Okay,” Viv said as she saw Leah walking towards her.

“How did she go?” Leah asked Viv, “We don’t know she hasn't replied to us.” Viv said as Beth started walking back over.

“She wont answer,” “Shit” the next three minutes Beth and Viv continuously called you.

“Beth we need to go now,” “What why,” “She got hurt badly, she is in surgery currently,” “Why didn’t they call us, to get consent for surgery. Shit, it's bad, let's go.”

They rushed off from training, and drove as fast as possible to the hospital. Leah stayed to inform Jonas and finish training before she quickly found herself, driving to the hospital, knee bouncing, hoping you were semi okay.

_____

When you woke up from surgery Beth and Viv were either side of you, holding your hands in theirs. A doctor walked in shortly after you woke up, to update you on your condition.

“Split Patella. Torn MCL and meniscus, partially torn LCL. Patella ligament was torn slightly in half vertically due to the separation of the Patella. Pins in the patella, sutures in the LCL and Patella ligament, meniscus was cleaned and sutured. In the end we went with a graft to fix the MCL in hopes to have a better recovery. No one actually can figure out how it happened, but it’s lucky your didn't tear your ACL or PCL.”

“Yeah but everything else is torn or split, would prefer just an ACL”

“Sorry about that, she comes with a bit of an attitude,” Beth said, as Viv glared at you, you just glared back, you were right after all, he was making it seem like nothing, when literally everything was stuffed.

He just dismissed it and continued “You’ll be lucky to walk normally again, let alone run or play football again. And even if you do somehow ever get back to running or playing football it will never be anywhere near the professional level.”

“I want a new doctor please,” You said to him blankly

“Hey, that's not very nice” “Yeah well I’ve seen what happens when doctors don’t have hope. I don’t want this halfwit in charge of my recovery, if it was up to him he would probably just put me in a wheelchair and be done with it. People come back from injuries that seem impossible to come back from. People lose limbs and still go back to war, it’s not impossible, as long as you’re not lazy. Just someone get me a new doctor. And you can go, I can’t believe you even got to operate on me.” He scoffed and walked out. You were fuming, your breath increased, your face turned into game mode and your nostrils started to flare, Beth and Viv knew that had to do something, so they tried to comfort you.

“Hey it's okay” Beth said as she rubbed her thumb on the back of the hand she was holding. You turned to her and glared at her before yelling at her. “No its fucking not, this isn’t okay, nothing about this is okay or fair or fine. Just leave, I want to be alone.” They both slightly jumped before quickly getting up and leaving. You felt your response was a bit harsh, but it was nothing compared to how you were actually feeling in this moment.

After 5 minutes the door slid open and a body slinked into the room, and sat on a chair near the end of your bed. It was Leah. She just smiled at you before she looked down at her phone. You felt a small tear roll down your cheek, the first one since your surgery, you quickly wiped it away and sniffled, however that caught the attention of Leah, and soon your single tear turned into more tears. She didn’t say anything, you didn't know if that was because she didn't know what to say, or if it was because she knew nothing she said would help. She did however get up out of her seat and walk towards your bed. You tried to shuffle over but your leg was holding you in place, you looked at her longingly. She looked at your knee and back to you, checking if thats what was the problem, you nodded. So she ever so carefully shifted your leg as you moved and then climbed onto the bed. You immediately moved closer to her, so that you were almost on top of her, and just melted into her comfort, as she held you tight.

After a while Beth and Viv walked in. “I’m sorry” you mumbled, feeling bad for pushing them away.

“It’s okay, you’re in a lot of pain both physically and emotionally, but we want you to know we are going to be here for you every step of the way. Okay.” you nodded, Viv sat down in the chair and beth sat down in her lap.

_____

When the fourth new doctor of the day entered the room, you jumped the gun, speaking before he could speak. “If you’re going to tell me I’m never going to play again or if you are a phycologist or some shit you can go, I don't want to hear it. Untill this hospital can find me someone who isnt a fucking sissy I won’t talk to any of you, and if they cant I’ll go somewhere else, another country if I have to.”

He sat down on the ‘doctor’ stool before wheeling himself on the chair closer to your bed, he leant forward slightly, and looked you directly in the eyes before he started speaking. “Well, I’m here to tell you that my team and I can get you back to playing pro. I’m not going to lie, its not going to be easy, its going to be fucking hard, harder than anything that has ever happened to you, everything combined. But we have done some research on you and had some conversations to people and we believe you can do this, we believe you are the right type of person, that you have the right support system and most of all have the determination, to not only now prove that dumb doctor wrong, but to show the universe that you won't break, nothing they throw at you, will cause you to break. So what do you say?”

You nodded slowly, looking at him before looking at Beth and Viv, almost seeking permission or maybe just reassurance, they both smiled and nodded at you, Leah squeezed your upper arm with the hand she had wrapped around your shoulders. You turn back to the doctor.

“I think like you,” “so is that a yes” “yes”

_____

He wasnt wrong, this was fucking hard, you were in agony, your face was scrunched up as tears streamed down from the first minute of rehab. You were told that you could stop if you needed to, but you weren't going to, you wanted to keep going, you needed to keep going, you needed to get back to playing.

Beth had been watching your first intensive rehab session from the window along with Viv and Leah. 10 minutes into the session she couldn't bear to watch, she walked away from the window before she broke down, she couldn't bear to see you in such agony. She was second guessing her choices, maybe you were pushing yourself too far, maybe they shouldn’t have signed the consent forms, after all you were only 15. Viv and Leah followed her, Viv wrapped her arms around her and tried to comfort her. 

“Maybe we take away the consent forms, she shouldn't be doing this.” Beth said, as she started to calm down slightly.

“No you fucking wont. She needs this, you may not entirely understand but she does, this is her absolute world. You don't get it.” Leah snapped back at her.

“Oh. So I don't understand what it's like to have a serious injury that takes you away from the thing you like doing, and I don't understand what it's like to lose a parent.”

“That's not what I mean Beth, and you know that.”

“Oh so what do you mean then.” Beth replied snarkily.

“You don’t understand the uncertainty of whether you will get to play or not, you knew you were going to come back, she doesn’t, she won't ever know until she gets there. You don't get what it means to know you are going to miss out on something that is 100% a given, well something that was 100% a given. She said to me when she was 10, that she was going to win an olympic record for her Mum, and that is something that was almost guaranteed to happen this year, she was going to become the youngest person to hold an 100 metre olympic record for her Mum and now she might never win an olympic record let alone go to an olympics. I was going to captain my country in a world cup that we had a very good chance at winning and that was taken away from me, that certainty, the thing that shows who we are and what we have strove for just gets taken away from us. And yes you did miss out on the world cup too beth, but this is different. Your injury meant something different with your Mum too. Your injury gave you time with your Mum. Her injury is taking her away from her Mum.”

Beth just nodded at Leah, not knowing what to reply, Leah was right, but it didn't make seeing you like that any better. Leah walked away and opened the door, joining you in rehab, she sat on the side of your good leg, speaking encouraging words to you the whole. Which admittedly did help.

_____

Beth and Viv came to some of your rehab sessions, but they struggled watching, they couldn't deal with they were the reason you were in pain, it's what you wanted to do, but if they didn't sign the consent forms you wouldn't be in this much pain, but they knew deep down this is what was best.

Leah was there for you every rehab session she could be, she was in a different position, she understood how Beth and Viv felt and would feel the same if she was in that position, but she wasn’t. She felt differently about this because she was in that position and so she was determined to be your constant through this. She was so insistent on that, that when she had an endo flare-up really bad you had to instruct her to stay home, she tried using the excuse that because you were in pain and still doing rehab she should too, you told her that was dumb, and you had to be in pain to get better, she needed to rest to get better. The main reason was that the past few days you had started working on walking without assistance, and if you passed the tests today you would be able to, well more like strongly encouraged too, walk without assistance in small intervals, it would only be max 30 mins a day in total currently but it was something. But you didn't want Leah to know this. You wanted to surprise everyone.

You did exactly that in their next training session.

“Are you sure about this?” Viv asked you concerned

“Yes, are they all in there?” you replied.

“Yeah Jonas said we had a meeting to be there by 8:10, we messaged and said sorry we will be 5 minutes late.” Beth replied and you nodded

You crutched your way into the centre and gave Viv your crutches just as you neared the dining room entrance, Beth went ahead of you as you walked, albeit very slowly, behind her into the dining room. All heads turned to you, no one expected you to be there, you hadn’t had a day off from rehab since you started, and as you were doing external rehab you hadn’t seen much of the girls.

“Oh we thought you were Jonas, do you know where he is?” Kim asked.

“Yeah he is just behind u-” “Wait Viv, why are you holding crutches that are definitely not your size” Steph asked.

“Holy fuck kid, you’re walking,” Katie said when she finally realised that you were walking, once everyone realised that you got your crutches back from Viv, standing without your crutches was painful, everyone came up and hugged you and congratulated you, except for one person, the one person that you really wanted to surprise. You continued looking around the room thinking you just missed her or something but your search was interrupted by a hand on your shoulder, “She isn't in here kid, she is with the medics. I can take you to visit her if you want.” Lia whispered in your ear, you nodded your head.

“Beth, Viv, I’m just going to take Y/N/N to see Leah,” Lia told them, they nodded their heads.

“Leah, I have someone who would like to see you,” Leah chimed through the door, 

“What Lia, you can't say that about yourself,” “No, it's not me who would like to see you, it’s someone else” and with that Lia opened the door for you and you walked into the room cautiously, Lia followed behind you holding your crutches.

“OMG Y/N/N you're walking” you just grinned and nodded at her, she went to reach out to you for a hug but before she could she winced in pain and retracted into a ball. 

“Le, I think you need to go home, I told you, you shouldn’t have come today,” Lia said as she walked to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Can Y/N come?” Leah asked timidly, “I’ll check with Beth and Viv first but yes.” Both you and Leah perked up at that

–

You entered the house a while after Lia and Leah, considering you had to get up the stairs which wasn’t the easiest task to do with crutches, but you managed it. You walked into the living room, and saw a photo, a photo you had hanging on your wall, it was bigger on this wall though, and sat next to what you could only assume was Leah’s Euro Final Jersey framed and her medal. You thought that it was sweet she had hung that photo of you up. You decided to sit on the couch and wait for Lia or Leah to come back out and talk to you, however you quickly fell asleep. You had basically been sleeping, eating or rehabbing since your injury so it wasnt out of the ordinary. Lia came out to check on you but found you asleep, so she decided to leave you asleep.

_____

You were lying in your bed, when Beth and Viv returned from their game, you were now getting a day off rehab every week, to slightly allow your body to rest. You had begged your rehab team to let you go to the game, but they said no, but they did mention maybe next week, so you were determined for that to happen. But currently you were in your bed tearing up at the thought of playing football, you were so determined to just get back you had forgotten about why you wanted to get back to it so much, the family feeling, the feeling once you scored a goal, the feeling of winning with some of the closest people in your life, the feeling of being free, having nothing else on your mind other than the game. You were in sobs by the time Beth and Viv had opened your door.

“Oh Baby, what’s wrong?” Beth asked as she went to sit beside you on the bed. 

“I-I’m s-so-sorry,” you cried out, Beth pulled you into her side, wrapping her arms around you, you buried your head in her chest. Viv walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in next to you, before she started to rub your back.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, it's okay to cry, what you’re going through isn’t something small, and isn’t something easy.” Beth reassured you.

“No. I’m sorry for yelling at you the first day in the hospital, and for being mean to you both when you’re just trying to help me, and that you have to look after me.”

“It’s okay, we’re here for you Kleintje, this injury hasn’t been easy and won’t be, so if you need to get mad at us sometimes that is okay. And we will always look after you, we love you, we wouldn’t want to do anything else than help you when you’re sick or injured.” Viv replied.

“But you shouldn’t have to look after me, it's not your fault I dont have parents.” Beth was surprised it took this long for the emotions of your parents not being able to look after you to hit, she felt it while she was recovering from her ACL and she didn’t have her Mum. The date also hadn’t slipped her mind for the entire day. She felt as though this conversation, this set of emotions, would be something you would prefer to have with just Beth, someone who understood in what you felt, she was older so it was easier on her in some way, but it doesn't make it hurt any less, it just meant she understood what was happening to her Mum where you didn’t. She looked up to Viv, and gave her a soft, sad, warm smile. Viv picked up on what Beth was silently communicating. Beth had a small tear roll down her face before she looked up at the roof, Viv wiped the tear away and kissed her quickly before she got up and headed to the door.

“I’m just going to have a shower, let me know if you need anything.” Viv said, she really didn;t want to leave you two but knew she needed to.

“Thank you,” you mumbled before she shut the door, she knew that it wasn't just for helping you, but for leaving, even though it went against everything in her being.

“I-I’m sorry,” “It’s okay Vivy understands. Can you sit up for me quickly?” You did as Beth said, she sat more upright resting her back against the pillows on the headboard, before pulling you onto her lap, you sat parallel to the headboard leaning your side into her, resting your head against her shoulder. You pulled your good leg into a ball, trying to feel safe. Beth wrapped her arms around you tightly, and started slightly rocking side to side. She kissed your forehead before she started talking again. 

“Y/N, it's okay to be upset, every date is just as important as the other. Today means something, every date means something. Today marks the start, and that’s just as important as the end.”

“It’s hard Beth.”

“I know it is, but you’ve got this, I’m here with you, I’m here for you, I understand, you never have to explain anything to me, I get it, but just know that she loves you, and she would be incredibly proud of you.” You felt a drop of water hit your shoulder, Beth was crying now too.

“I-I love y-you, th-thank you.” She nodded, you knew she wouldn’t be able to talk, you were struggling to talk, your tears choking back your words. She unwrapped the arm that was in front of you and you saw her moving her hand towards yours, you quickly grabbed it and held onto it tightly. You sat there soaking up Beth’s comfort, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

_____

Commonwealth Games 2026

“We’re here trackside with Y/F/N Y/L/N who at just 17 years old has broken 4 records today, 3 officially and one unofficially. She has just finished her first competitive 100m back since her career ending injury, with an absolutely insane time of 10.45. Giving her a second gold medal of the day.”

“An absolute masterclass out there Y/N/N, how do you feel?”

“Honestly amazing. On a high. I-I can’t believe it. Let alone find the words to express it” you said puffing.

“How’s the knee feeling? Recovery mustn’t have been easy.”

“Yeah no, the knee is feeling great, recovery was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I had some fantastic people surrounding me and helping me and guiding me through it all. And I just wanted to give a massive thank you to Tim and his team. Without their belief, fantastic skill set and unbelievable knowledge I probably wouldn't even be here competing today, let alone standing here with a gold medal. But also to all my teammates, and to my parents who made me who I am, I love you both.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Imposter: Neige LeBlanche

He’s the shining crewmate in cyan

With a reputation of snow

He’s innocent in any situation 

There's always an out 

Even if he’s found with blood splashed on his suit

He’s nothing but an unfortunate witness traumatized beyond belief

So traumatized he can’t recall who it was

Until its most convenient

“I-i’m so sorry everyone…I witness something so horrible the least I should do is be able to help…I-i’ll try my best for everyone.”

So it's best if he travels with you

The crewmate so determined to find the imposter

Or even the unconvinced crewmate who keeps giving him the side-eye

So why don’t you pair up with him?

Despite his flawless alibi, overwhelming lack of evidence, and testimony from trusted crewmates your friends

Somehow he can’t get you close enough

wHy ARe yOu BeINg sO dIfFiCUlt!?

At this rate, he’ll the imposter have to kill the whole crew before you give him anything but a passing gaze glare

But he’s a good crewmate liar

You’ll have no choice but to believe him when they eject the ‘real’ imposter:

You stared through the impact glass at the vastness of the space and the decreasing figure of the purple suit. A haze of finality and unreaching, endlessness ebbing your resolve, you tightened your fists; digging your nails into your palms. It hardly did much to distract you from the feeling in your heart but you’d take what you could.

“(Y/n), Rook set a course back to Innersloth…we’re going home.”

You ignored him, not even bothering to look at his worried reflection behind you, keeping your eyes on the spot you last found the supposed imposter’s floating body. The news brought nothing but guilt and rage. At who? You, the remaining crewmates, the dead, Neige? Even with the evidence pointing to your dearest friend and the innocence proclaimed to him you couldn’t ignore the feeling in your gut. 

The same one that told you to stay with your friend, even when he insisted you two split up for just a second. The same push that had you doubting the one in cyan from the very beginning. Even with his innocence being proven every time without fail, you couldn’t disregard the compass that held tried and true for this whole nightmare.

“(Y/n), maybe you should join me in the cafeteria! I recently made a pie for everyone to enjoy!”

“...Not everyone.”

Neige stiffened before letting his eyes and lips curve into a smile as he shed a tear. 

“You’re right *sniff* Not for everyone…but maybe in their honor?”

You resisted the urge to sneer at him. That voice. That face. Those tears. He was doing it again! Whether it was acting or mimicry it didn’t sit right with you; it never did. And even now in the wake of the majority of your crew’s death, it didn’t incur the empathy he so often elicited from onlookers. In your deepest of hearts you rationalized that was why he seemed so insistent on trying his tactics on you. 

“You can enjoy it without me…who’s to say the imposter really is off the ship anyway?”

At those words he made a face, puckering his lips and folding his hands to protest. You spoke, glaring at the despicable reflection of yourself in the window.

“ We’ve been wrong before. What’s to say we aren’t again?”

“B-but nothing has been broken! And we’ve split up many a time before and none of us have died! Don’t you think that means we finally got rid of the—”

“Imposter? Please, it make more sense to stay hidden now since they want a free ride to headquarters.”

Tightly closing your eyes,  you turned narrowly missing the ungloved hand attempting to grab your shoulder. Making your way out of the bay you went for the door, flashing a look toward Neige who hadn’t turned around and was still facing the window. You turned your attention officially storming off, to do whatever it was you felt like doing without his presence. 

The imposter stood still, blankly smiling at the star system as he tightly clenched his fists. Of course, it’d be like you to suspect such a plan. Only you. But you were just so uptight how could you go bringing such negativity to the Innersloth head quarters after such a hefty loss? It’d be best for him everyone if you had a relaxant relaxed a little. Smiling a bit after such dark times was healthy. And only a good crewmate would keep their remaining teammates healthy, even if their suspicions were debilitating to that health.

Right?

[dedalvs]

I don't think that any of your conlangs are progressive enough to express being trans, but if they were, how would they? What about other gender/sexuality things?

That first clause is quite a thing to say. Languages aren't progressive. Their users may be, but the languages aren't anything. They're just languages. If you mean they're not modern (i.e. a lot of the languages I create are for cultures that are somewhat antiquated compared to our world), this is true, but that doesn't necessarily mean the languages won't have terminology for different gender identities.

There is a major assumption here, though. My understanding (and please do note: I am a cis man; please feel free to correct), cis and trans individuals, as opposed to nonbinary and genderfluid, are similar in that neither have any doubt about what gender they are, identifying with either male or female. So if any language I've created has a word for "man" or "woman", then there's sufficient vocabulary for a trans individual to express their identity that way.

However, there is a terminological difference, and it's both an individual choice and societal preference: Whether to identify as one's chosen gender identity, as trans, or both (e.g. "I am a woman", "I am trans", or "I am a trans woman"—and then preferring to use one of those or all of those, or some other combination of the three). My personal language preference (as a user and language creator) is fewer distinctions are better (why have three third person singular pronouns—or four or twelve—when you can have one?), because it's less to memorize, less work to use, and demands less specificity of the user—and allows the hearer/reader to make fewer assumptions. Unless the situation calls for it (e.g. the gender system hard-coded into Ravkan in Shadow & Bone), I prefer lumping rather than splitting. This is especially useful as I'm often not in charge of the culture I create languages for.

For example, the languages I've created for A Song of Ice and Fire were for cultures created and maintained by George R. R. Martin. Whatever cultural innovations I have made in creating the languages are, at best, pending—that is, true until George R. R. Martin says otherwise, which he is free to do at any time, as it's his world. As a result, I don't feel confident enough to say what life is like for a trans individual in his world, and how that might be reflected in the languages there. There's simply not enough information.

Where I might be in charge of the culture, you do know my preference now (i.e. fewer distinctions), but, as I am not trans, I'd prefer to leave it to the trans community to decide, and then do what I can to support those decisions linguistically (i.e. to make it work within the language). Any term chosen highlights some aspect of the experience while downplaying others. In English, trans, coming from transition, highlights the change from one identity to another. Other ideas for how to come up with a term might be using a root that refers to "true", highlighting the transition to one's true gender expression. Perhaps another root to look for would be "choose", framing it as one's chosen gender expression—IF one wishes to look at it that way.

In many ways, both the term and the experience are highly individual, and it's difficult to come up with a blanket term and say "this is the term". It's especially difficult since this isn't a life experience I share. It feels both disingenuous and a bit icky to come up with a term to describe an experience that is decidedly not my own.

My own preference in this regard is a twofold approach:

Allow trans users of whatever language to figure out what term works for them, and then support them in creating a term that obeys the various language rules (i.e. the phonology is correct, derived words are derived correctly, etc.). Those users, however, will be operating under the same "rules" that I operate under, e.g. the one who's creating the culture has the final say, if they care to weigh in, and so the result may end up not being canon, at which point it's up to the user to decide whether they care or not. (Note: I shouldn't have to explain it here on Tumblr, but, of course, you don't have to care if the creator of the canon says something isn't so, no matter how many billions they have.)

Allow polysemy. There will never be a term that is THE term. It may be an individual's preferred term, but someone else may like another, in which case it should be allowed.

A very important language-specific note (and the same is true of fandom, generally). By agreeing to work within a language, we're essentially agreeing to rules of a game. The rules can always be broken. When rules are broken, the question language users have to answer is if they've been broken so egregiously that they're no longer playing the game, or if it's fine. For example, if you look at fanfic, there's plenty of fanfic with gender-swapped characters, or the same characters in a radically different setting. Some readers may decide they don't want the characters to be gender-swapped. Others may decide that if it's not in the same setting they're not interested. And that's fine! Both the writers and the readers are deciding which rules of the game can be broken while still calling it the same game. This works very, very well so long as no one gets mad at anyone else. If someone says, "I don't enjoy this because it breaks the rules in a way that ruins my enjoyment", that's perfectly fine. If that same person says, "You're not allowed to break the rules in this way", that's not fine.

So hopefully this all makes sense. And, furthermore, when I say I want to support those who wish to create their own terms, I do mean it. If anyone has suggestions or needs help coining a possible word, feel free to message me! But do bear (2) above in mind. I'm not going to say any term is THE term, and have that be the end of it. It'll be one possibility amongst a rainbow of possibilities.

[daenystheedreamer]

Re your post about Rhaenyra and the green stans (ily Nyra I understand and love you)...a bizarre consequence of hotd, a show which (I assume) is intended to focus on institutionalised misogyny in a deeply patriarchal and violent society....has resulted in a fanbase split into two camps who each accuse the 'side' they don't like of being deeply misogynistic outliers with no connection to wider social forces, and uphold their 'side' as feminist revolutionaries despite not actually changing anything in the....deeply patriarchal and violent medieval society depicted....a very weird thing to witness

yes like. yes you have to take the series' social mores on their own level. you absolutely have to understand this takes place in a world with patriarchy and religion and expectations of honour and duty.

but you also have to understand the world is fake and fictional and not real. it exists within a television show invented by and for present day viewers. and especially that is its own piece of media in which all choices are made deliberately to make a point. and the point is that the system is bad. you should question honour and duty. the human heart in conflict with itself. if honour and duty violate your bodily autonomy, your human individuality, even your innate sense of morality, should this honour system or these duties be respected?

asoiaf and by association the hbo franchise are very much critiques, not endorsements. everyones all "you can depict things and not endorse it" but some of you forget "you can critique the things that are depicted". because it is a tv show. and alicent and rhaenyra are not real. they are concepts and should make you think and feel and question the choices made by the characters and the world. not use the fictional world's own critiqueable set of ethics as a guide to whether a character is good or not

[box-dwelling]

This needs to be made. WAA (and extended family, we may get too big for one party but this may get split over a few groups) and who I think everyone would play. Also presuming 5e for the system.

Phoenix: cleric. 1000000% with his obsession with helping people? Absolutely wants to be the healer and the cleric spell list gives a lot of options for chaotic play.

Trucy: a coward would say sorcerer. They are wrong. She is a forever DM. Don't forget she isn't just a performer, she's also a stage director. Plus her desire to constantly cheer up her friends translates perfectly into campaign design. I think he has special effects set up and has Mr Hat come out for scenes with 2 NPCs

Apollo: there are two choices. Either he's never played before and is just a begrudging human fighter, or he and Clay used to play all the time and he comes in with the most insanely fleshed out well constructed min max multiclass you've ever seen. But it's not like an annoying minmax where it take away from the other players, it's min maxed in a way to cover the rest of the parties flaws and actively heighten them all. It is a solid 50/50 he either gives no shits or gives the most shits ever

Athena: barbarian. She is using this to get out her aggression and good for her.

Pearl: she's new at this and kinda nervous but I think she has a cute little elven druid made up. She was going to go cleric but didn't want to step on Phoenix's toes.

Maya: Sorcerer and an absolute powerhouse of one at that.

Ema: Wizard. Fully roleplays the whole scholar of magic vibe too.

Edgeworth: the most paladin paladin player to ever play. His character is mounted because of his knight chess thing and they start off heavily based off a steel samurai character but I think he then uses it to channel some of his feelings about mvk so he may well go oathbreaker somewhere down the line

Klavier: Do I need to say it? Bard. Horniest horny bard you ever saw. But I think he keeps it relatively pg for trucys NPC's and focuses his flirting solely on Apollo.

Simon: samurai fighter. Edgy backstory. Actively causes chaos at all times.

Franziska: is invite but doesn't play.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 15

Masterlist

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, implied torture, kidnapping of a minor, very intense predator vibes, angst.

Billy could feel the sweat rolling down his back.

Though the midnight air of the forest was cool, the gear wrapped around his body trapped the heat, and didn’t make it easy for Billy to be comfortable, especially with the additional adrenaline running through his system.

He ignored it, years of marine training meant that he could bury his body’s signals of discomfort, he remained focused on the task at hand. 

He was hunting.

Frank’s youngest had been missing for five hours. 

Billy had hit the ground running, setting up monitoring stations at every entry and exit point in the state. It wasn't perfect, but it was all he had for right now.

If this was who Billy and Frank suspected they were, they wouldn't be using any official pathways anyway. 

Billy finds the spot Frank Jr. was last seen and starts there, he follows the scent, the footsteps on the forest floor, a boy happily running through the woods he's grown up in.

He'd been chasing fireflies, Frank had told him, wanted a jar of them to come home with. It had taken around an hour for them to notice something was wrong, searched for another hour before beginning to panic. Frank had found the spot where the boy’s tracks had interacted with two larger adult footprints in the dark of the night, and had immediately hiked out of the forest and to a phone.

Billy had gotten here as fast as he could, starting his search, knowing he only had a few hours left before kidnappers would make it to whichever edge of the forest they were going to and get out.

Billy had to be faster.

He would be. Panthers were arguably better trackers than bears, quieter too. Frank had made a good choice to call him when he did.

Even if it had pulled Billy away from you.

He shakes his head, can't afford to get distracted by you right now.

He adjusts the rifle in his hand, taking a deep breath of the forest air to clear his head. If he focused, he could still smell the scent of you on his skin.

It gave him peace, made his body burn even hotter at the reminder of you, of why his hands smelled the way they did. He didn’t even get a chance to write a proper note, only a hasty one of apology placed on the pillow next to you. He’d left his phone at his place to avoid it being traced here. He knew he would have to do a lot of apologising when he got back.

.

He loses the trail at the river.

Large volumes of water rushing past him and heading into the far off ocean, Billy pauses and thinks. He hears the crunching of dirt under Frank's boot as he approaches.

"I lost the scent here." Frank says.

Billy nods, moving closer to the river, eyes scanning the embankment, searching for scuffs in the rocks, anything to show him where they would have crossed.

At one spot, he finds the dirt has been disturbed.

"He fought back here." Billy points out, "Must have realised that crossing water meant you wouldn't be able to find him."

Frank's breathing is laboured.

They find a shallow spot to cross. The water is frigid, biting, and he knows that he's running out of time to find them.

On the other side, he notes that one boot print has gotten deeper.

"They picked him up… here, probably knocked him unconscious." Billy voice is calm, calculated.

He hears the air leave Frank.

When he finds that the footprints have split off into two groups, he makes a split second decision, pulling his gun off and tossing it in Frank's direction, his gear follows next.

"I'm shifting." Billy says with finality, “Follow those prints,” Billy points to the lighter steps, “They probably take you out of the way for a little, but they have to reunite with these,” he points to the heavier ones, “at some point.”

Frank doesn’t argue.

The predator comes to him easily, ready to protect his family. Billy grunts quietly as he shifts, feels his bones dislocate and realign. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he’s looking through the eyes of the panther.

The panther can see so much more, a wider field of vision, better darkness adaptability than his human eyes can. He takes off running in the dark forest, doesn’t stop, his paws barely making a sound as he leans away from the controls and allows the panther to guide his movements, letting instinct take over and make split second decisions.

Nearsighted in his panther form, his brain can hyperfocus on the little things, able to observe the smallest indications of the kidnapper’s presence and direction. Half footprints, the pattern of disturbed grass, the size and depth of his gait giving an indication of their size, Billy finds that he learns more about the mysterious people as he hunts them. 

He’s temporarily disoriented when the scent he was following is drowned out by something overpowering. Lavender oil dumped hastily to deter anyone with sensitive noses from following. Billy huffs angrily, circling in the dark of the forest to relocate the scent lost.

It’s not there, and when he looks around, he notes two sets of tracks, one of which has most likely been faked to throw him off. The panther huffs angrily, moving between the tracks, trying to look for any sign that one is fake.

It takes him a moment, before he sees it, a button, pulled from the sleeve of the younger Frank’s shirt dropped and half buried in the dark foliage of the forest, a sign that the young boy was coming back to consciousness, showing Billy the path to him.

He takes off running again, adrenaline coursing through his veins, telling him to move faster, to protect his pack, to bring young Frank home safe to his father.

The hunters most likely wanted a young shifter they could train, brainwash into killing their own, fighting fire with fire, was most likely their reasoning for such a dangerous excursion in the first place. If they couldn’t train him to kill for them, they’d experiment on him, testing weapons on him that they could use to hunt the rest of his kind. It made Billy run faster, the knowledge that a little boy like Frank was in that much danger.

The panther huffs again, trying to keep Billy focused so that he doesn’t think about his own misshapen past. Remembering his own unique traumas would not help here.

When he reaches the cliffside, he realises the plan of escape. The kidnappers intend to escape with a boat, making it harder for Billy to track them. 

He won’t let them get that far ahead.

He stays in the tree line, looking for signs of human life when he finally catches what his eyes have been searching for- movement.

Two men, busy uncovering a small boat, dressed in very detailed, forest camouflage. 

Billy watches them for a long moment, analysing both figures in the dark of the night. The men wear night vision goggles, and hearing aids to raise the sensitivity of their human sight and hearing. The problem with these technologies was that there was an inability to filter out too much stimuli, which made it difficult to focus on one sound. Billy knew that one good flash grenade would take both men out. 

Still, he had yet to find Frank Jr.

They had probably taken great care in hiding him, the most valuable thing to them now. The panther knew, just like Billy did, that the hunters would rather kill the young shifter, than let him slip from their grasp.

So he had to pick the right moment to strike.

Billy moves quietly, paws padding on the forest floor so softly that no trace of his movements can be heard, not the brush of the leaves on his fur, not the scrape of his claws on rocks as he’s forced to climb down from his vantage point.

The only time he freezes, is when an owl hoots somewhere behind him, and one of the hunters turn to look.

The figure doesn’t speak, they know better, know a single word would be heard for miles. They were trained for this, seasoned and experienced.

And yet still, they wouldn't expect him.

He finally senses the young boy when he’s closer, covered under a shroud that’s been designed to look like foliage. Billy can hear his heartbeat, the soft breathing of an unconscious boy. He feels the anger of the predator inside of him sharpen. 

He stalks closer.

He’s hidden right beside them now, the very items used as strategic cover now works against them, allowing Billy to get very close.

These hunters were only anticipating bears, they would never see the panther coming.

.

When Frank finally gets to them, Billy shifts back into human form. He takes the shirt and pants hastily tossed his way, and watches Frank kneel beside the shroud covering his son.

Billy looks over, pausing as he puts on his shirt to assess the boy, same as Frank.

Breathing, unconscious still, a red bruise on his cheek where someone might have slapped him aggressively. It makes Billy angrier, wishing he’d made the hunters suffer longer. He’d torn them apart too fast for his liking.

Frank scoops up his son, trying his best not to wake him, most likely to avoid him witnessing the carnage left behind by the predator, sprays of blood and body parts scattered- it had been surprisingly silent throughout- no screams because Billy had torn out their vocal cords first.

 “Thank you, Bill.” Frank murmurs, his arms full of his son.

Billy only nods, glad to have been able to help keep his family safe.

They only make it a few steps, before Billy hears the sound of branches snapping. 

He only has a second to act, lunging at Frank and knocking both bodies out of the way as someone opens fire.

The sound echoes through the forest, as Billy and Frank take cover behind a rock. It only takes a moment to figure out where the sound is coming from, before Frank turns, placing his son into Billy’s arms.

“I want this one alive.” Is the last thing Frank says, before grunting loudly, his clothes tearing as he shifts.

And then he disappears.

Billy wants to help his friend, but he also understands that Frank Jr’s safety holds much more priority. 

In any case, he knew who would be winning this fight anyway.

.

He’s holding Frank’s son in one hand, and dragging the unconscious hunter by the ankle along the forest floor when Maria finally spots him.

She runs up to him, he can smell the salty flavour of her despair in the forest air.

“He’s alright.” Billy reassures as she makes her way to him, “Just asleep.”

She takes the sleeping boy from his arms, cradling him closely, a little sob slipping from her lips. He drops the hunter’s foot and pulls them both into his arms. 

He breathes in her flowery smell, presses his cheek into her hair.

They were safe.

“Where’s Frank?” She asks after a moment, looking up at Billy.

“He’s behind, making sure the forest is clear.” Billy explains, “You got a place to put this bastard?” He follows up with, inclining his head to the unconscious man beside him.

Maria nods, turning to show him the way.

.

Billy waits outside the little backyard shed for Frank to step out. He’s spent the last few minutes listening to Frank beat the man bloody. Frank doesn’t even ask any questions- just getting all of his residual anger out.

Billy’s not surprised to see the state of Frank’s hands when he steps out, covered in blood with splashes on his shirt.

“Have at it.” Frank says in a very rough voice, the anger too potent inside of him to get any further words out. Billy watches him grab a rag from his back pocket and begin wiping at his hands. He knows the darkness raging inside of the man, can almost taste it in the air. More than anything, Frank needs his family now to get back into a more stable headspace.

Billy doesn’t speak, only nodding, before opening the wooden shed door to do a little bit of interrogation.

The smell of blood and sweat is heavy in the air. The predator perks up at the atmosphere, scratching at the edges of Billy’s mind to give this pathetic man exactly what he deserves.

“Can you talk?” Billy says calmly, tilting his head at the man, watching the blood drip from his mouth.

The man doesn’t respond, simply eyeing Billy warily from his spot tied to the wooden chair.

“Would you like some water?” Billy follows up, grabbing a clean cup from one of the little shelves and filling it with water from the tap. He moves to stand in front of the man, his boots thumping on the wooden floor, tilting the cup toward him with eyebrows raised.

The man only gives him a bloody smile, his face illuminated by the lone incandescent bulb hanging above them.

“What is this?” the man rasps, “Bad cop- good cop? You think you’re gonna get anything out of me?”

Billy grins, laughing along with the man for a moment, before angling the cup upwards and dumping the cup of water on his head.

The man doesn’t flinch, though he knows that the water stings at the open cuts and scratches on his face.

He tosses the cup aside, walking to the far wall of the shed and examining the tools on the table carefully.

“I’m just making sure you can talk because I want some answers.” Billy responds, tracing his fingers along the hunting knife on the tabletop- deciding against it because it was too sharp.

He pauses on the wireless drill for a second, before deciding that cleaning that up would be too much of a pain.

“I’m not saying shit. So you might as well kill me.” The man responds.

It makes Billy laugh again, fingers pausing on the pliers. He tilts his head, deep in thought before reaching for them.

“I am going to kill you,” Billy clarifies, walking back around to him, “How quickly is up to you.” 

He raises the pair of pliers in his hands, clicking it open and closed twice for emphasis.

“Now why don’t we start with who exactly sent you?”

“Fuck you.” The man spits.

Billy grins.

.

Like Frank, Billy is wound up and agitated when he finally steps out of the shed a few hours later. Having surrendered to the whims of the predator for too long, it’s not easy regaining control.

Frank’s waiting for him outside, eyeing him steadily.

Billy nods at Frank, silently telling him that even though he’s not at his best, he’ll get there.

“Hungry?” Frank asks, and the absurdity of the question is not lost on either of them. Truth is, they’ve both been desensitised to violence, the wars they’ve been through, the things they’ve seen makes this small event easier to handle.

“Starving.” Billy answers, watching Frank’s mouth pull up in amusement.

Frank might not be blood related to Billy, but they were brothers, in every way that mattered.

.

When Billy finally gets back to New York, it's almost 9am. He only has enough time to shower and change and get to work, a small pile of concerns having been built up in the three days he's been gone.

He can't wait to see you, to apologise for his absence, to make amends for such a hastily scribbled note left behind on the pillow beside your head and a soft kiss to your cheek. His heart is beating so fast in his chest that it might as well as be a vibration at this point. 

Except he doesn't get a chance to see much of you at all. He only catches a solitary peek of you when you're heading to the elevators during your lunch break while he's standing at Katerina's desk deep in conversation.

"You should go get something to eat." Kat says, interrupting his long stare at the elevators.

"What?" He asks, not even paying attention.

"It's lunch time, and I think the cafeteria might have something you like."

He blinks, turns to look at her. She's giving him an expression of complete understanding.

He takes a slow breath.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" He asks softly.

She nods.

"I don't want you to starve."

Why he was trusting Katerina, was a question beyond his scope of thinking at the moment. Maybe he wasn't trusting her at all, maybe she had just given him the nudge he was looking for.

He heads toward the elevators, and presses the down button. 

He waits.

He torments himself. Why was he doing this? He didn't need to- he could just send you a message to ask to talk to you like a normal person, instead of whatever he would subject himself to in the cafeteria. 

He turns away, officially changing his mind.

The elevator doors pull open.

"Hello, Mister Russo." You say behind him.

His heart stops.

He turns.

He's held in place by how stunning you look, the way your hair falls and the gloss swiped onto your soft lips.

Lips that he kissed.

His stomach knots as he says your name in greeting.

If you have any indication of how frozen he is, you don't show it, barely meeting his eyes before looking away.

"Enjoy your lunch." Is all you say before you turn and walk away, never even sparing him a proper glance. 

When he replays the little interaction in his head, it's only then that he realises that you addressed him by his last name.

He was no longer Billy, and had once again, become only your boss.

He swallows, a sour feeling in his stomach, acid swelling inside of him until it devours everything. 

He doesn’t know what to do, so he turns, and walks back to his office.

“I’m not all that hungry.” He says to Katerina when he notices her studying him, doesn’t like how small he feels in that moment, wants to hide, and not be seen again, maybe take Frank up on his offer to live with him in the woods.

He lets his office door close behind him, before he’s taking a deep breath in an attempt to soothe his emotions.

The panther is hurt too, your indifference is like a sharp knife to his sternum, where he’d been craving heat, he only gets frostbite.

He sits in his chair, moves on autopilot, and doesn't focus on anything for the better part of an hour. He tries to reason with himself, tries to figure out how to fix this gaping wound that has opened up.

Worse yet, he’s afraid to go talk to you. Afraid of your rejection of him, that you’ve looked at him, and decided that you do not want him.

He hides instead.

.

.

.

[teecupangel]

So this idea has been bouncing in my head like an excited rabbit on caffeine. (I also don't know if anyone else thought of this but I thought it would be cool) so you remember the reblog chain where the players are all in Desmond head talking like a twitch chat, and the other reblog chain of Desmond's ancestor data gaining sentience because isu bstm, right? Well I had a thought, what if we combined the two, like maybe something like the part of the main group + Desmond are trying to get to the others who are in another part of Abstergo or the assassin's network and Desmond, let's say that while he was split he couldn't hear us until they passed through this really corrupted part of an ocean map (let's say it's in Edward's time) then all of a sudden Desmond hears one of us. (Sorry if this doesn't make sense. I hope you have a heath day/night)

I think this is the AC characters data in Abstergo’s database regaining sentience AU reblog chain with @piratekenway you’re talking about?

The Ratatouille AU where the ancestors can hear Desmond while ‘playing’, its more unhinged cousin, the Ratatouille AU where Desmond can hear us and the outside POV of Al Mualim thinking the Apple broke Altaïr and the sidestory of Altaïr accidentally connecting with Ezio while looking for Desmond (I hope I didn’t forget anything else)

Okay, so the idea is that we’re using the setup for the character data gaining sentience and we’re setting this as sorta like the ‘epilogue’ to the Ratatouille AU.

Instead of letting the world burn (“As a treat!” one of the voices chirped), he sacrifices himself. When he wakes up, he’s in Abstergo’s database, chained as a digital copy of Sample 17.

He can’t hear any voices anymore.

Are they disappointed with him?

Did they think they wasted their time trying to help him?

Did he… make the right choice?

He doesn’t know how much time has passed… when the virus started taking over the database and servers.

.

In this one, the virus isn’t made by Erudito + Assassins. It’s of ‘unknown origin’.

All they know is the name of the virus is “for desmond!” and it is targeting Desmond. Of course, Sample 17 is in one of the more secured encrypted ‘part’ of the database so it mutated to wake other data up.

Data that has connection with Desmond.

Along the way, the virus inside them starts waking up other data nearby, creating a strange team to rescue Desmond.

We can sorta play with this a bit and make Arno, Evie and Jacob become part of Abstergo’s database because they do have data of Arno’s descendants and it makes sense that the reason why the Templars knew where the Shroud is because they can access the twins’ memories as well and the Assassins just stole their DNA for their own Animus instead.

So they get to Desmond who is staying in the Grand Temple, just sitting there, staring at the devices, doubting and double-doubting himself if he should have activated the device when the people who care for him the most asked him not to.

Of course, Abstergo’s anti-virus and probably the entire security system is chasing after them so they don’t have time to actually talk.

They just run.

Well, they sailed using a fusion of the Jackdaw and Aquila…

… into a corrupted part of the West Indies.

The idea was… the virus didn’t harm them but it definitely fucks with Abstergo’s anti-virus and security system.

At the very least, they were hoping it would slow them down.

What they did not expect was for the entire thing to collapse under them…

And drop their modified ship into a different unfamiliar ocean.

“Holy shit!”

Desmond blinked.

“That scared the crap out of me. Goddamn it, Ubisoft. I know this is still being betatesting but Jesus Christ, loading the entire ship and dropping it from above??? What kind of programming does this game have???”

“Lollol. Dude, chill.”

“Is it an enemy ship? Like… can you shoot it?”

“Should you shoot it? Check its level first.”

They were all familiar voices.

“You don’t want a repeat of-”

“Guys?” Desmond asked, his voice a bit too quiet.

Hesitant.

He didn’t dare hope that it was them.

Not all of them.

But some of the ones he was most familiar with.

The ones who stayed with him the most.

“Holy shit.”

“Oh my god, Desmond?!”

“What’s Desmond doing in this game?!”

“Is it our Desmond???”

Desmond’s lips curved into a smile and his voice croaked as he said, “Yeah, I’m your Desmond.”

“Oh my god.”

“Desmond!!! You’re okay!!! We were sooo worried!”

“You think this is [Bored Anonymous]’s work??? Did their plan to use all our computers to try and connect with Desmond’s world and send our gift work?”

“Gift?” Desmond tilted his head.

Did they mean the virus?

He felt someone nudged his arm and he turned to look at Ezio. Everyone else seemed confused but Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton seemed to have an idea on who he was talking to.

Wait.

They can hear them!

Before Desmond could tell the voices that everyone could hear them now, one of them said hurriedly, “Oh fuck! Someone get [Bored Anonymous] quickly!”

“Why?”

“I only have 1 more hour to play this beta! What happens to Desmond if he stays in this beta server after the time is up?!! We can’t lose him!”

“Ohshitohshitohshit!”

“I’ll alert the discord server!”

“I’ll try to message them in Tumblr! They’re always online there!”

“Pretty sure that’s their queue…”

“We can still try!”

Desmond simply laughed.

Sure, the time limit they’re talking about was worrying but hearing all of them worrying about him…

It felt like he was finally home.

[ftafp]

Look, I know I'm going to piss people off by saying this, but it needs to be said, bolded, underlined, AND CAPITALIZED because people's lives are at stake.

To say I'm unhappy with Biden's handling of the palestinian genocide is like saying the marianas trench is a little humid this time of year. People are dying because of his actions, and I hope he burns there.

BUT

2024 is 9 days away, and right now, Donald "Grab her by the pussy" Trump is looking like a frontrunner, and if you think Biden has been bad for this country, I need you to remember just how bad life was under him

Make no mistake, Trump is no ally to palestine

Nor to american jews who he accuses of destroying america

He's already stated his plan to lock up politcal opponents and quoted ADOLPH FUCKING HITLER in response to immigrants, and promised to cut federal funding for any school or program that promotes "gender ideology or any inappropriate racial, sexual or political content onto our children"

I understand why so many liberals are turning on Biden. I understand why I'm turning on Biden. But 2024 9 days away. The election is coming. YOU DO NOT HAVE AN EXCUSE TO SIT THIS ONE OUT!

America's system is beyond fucked, but saying "the lesser of two evils is still evil" overlooks the fact that the greater of two evils will result in your own persecution and possible death.

LETTING AMERICANS DIE FOR YOUR PRINICIPLES IS NOT THE MORAL FUCKING HIGH GROUND!

VOTE!

Not for a third party who has no chance of winning and will only serve to split the party handing Trump the victory. For Biden. It may suck. You may hate it. Too bad life doesn't offer any better options.

I have loved ones–family memebers who supported me growing up even when my own father wouldn't–who will die under Trump's policies. If you don't fight in this election, and he loses, they will have died because of the choice you made thinking it was the moral one!

VOTE!

[mahercbeaucoup]

TTRPG Design Lessons from Wildermyth

I've recently been spending a good deal of time thinking about solo RPGs and playing Rangers of Shadow Deep, a solo miniature game. My brain has been buzzing with ideas for solo game design, but I wanted to extend my research into video games, and so I found myself playing Wildermyth. This game has been on my radar for years, but I finally took the time to sit down with it. I enjoyed the game's first campaign, and I came away with some lessons for solo TTRPG design.

Procedural Stories

As your party of heroes wanders the world of Wildermyth, the player is treated to vignettes of the characters' encounters with their environment. These little stories build much of the player's connection to their band of heroes, especially the ones who join later and appear less often in the main plot.

Coming from the OSR world, a natural comparison arises to random encounters, especially during overland exploration. But whereas OSR encounters can follow any structure (and it is not uncommon for them to merely provide a moment of flavor), the Wildermyth vignettes always result in a meaningful change to the game state (as far as I can tell). A character may gain a new item, or change in some unexpected way, and the player will have a choice to make. Because a vignette always results in some sort of change, the game has a continuous feel of forward momentum.

In solo games, I struggle with developing side characters (or characterization at all, if the game is primarily skirmish-based). Looking at Wildermyth's approach, I can see the potential for a spark table to take one or two characters and create a little side-adventure for them, giving them a little color and differentiating them from the others.

Overworld Map

Wildermyth's map is broken down into regions, and each type of region contributes a different gameplay option. Some areas may have ruins you can reclaim, giving you increased resources or "Legacy Points" (a type of special currency), that you can use to grow and enhance your party. Some areas might allow you to build a bridge across a river, or tunnel through a mountain pass, into an adjacent territory. Villages provide recruitment opportunities, and new areas need to be scouted.

Crucially, every action requires time to complete, and the world is always moving on. Timers count down to the next bad event, armies march across the map and destroy settlements, and the deck of potential enemies is always growing stronger. Even when you acquire enough party members to split them up over multiple locations, it always feels like there is never enough time to get to everything you want to.

This system is simple, but it adds rich, opportunities for gameplay. I would love to experiment with this kind of campaign layer in an otherwise more traditional skirmish game. By adding simple concrete benefits to the control of a region, a huge amount of gameplay naturally emerges, even before diving deep into other sorts of quest hooks that will develop.

Enemy Behavior

When it comes to the tactical battles, the enemy AI seems to be very simplistic (as it is in most games of this type, and video games in general). But this isn't a knock against the battles, because the game's designers clearly understand that you can compensate for AI with varied enemies and scenario design.

I could very much picture running these enemies manually, each one operating by a different tactic that is simple enough to execute manually, while also appearing in enough unique combinations and situations to the player on their toes. One enemy might always charge to the farthest character it can reach, while another might draw characters toward it. These are just a few examples from Wildermyth, but they demonstrate how a few simple enemies can drastically change the tactical situation.

Interfusion

The mage class in Wildermyth has "Interfusion" as its primary ability. This lets the character manipulate the scatter terrain in the environment, with different types of terrain offering different tactical benefits.

I haven't seen this kind of approach to magic before, and I think it has good potential on the tabletop.

Putting it all together

After playing Wildermyth, I have a clearer picture of the game that is brewing in my mind: a cross between a skirmish game and an RPG (hardly a new idea), focused on a war band securing an area, and reacting to dynamic threats with varied enemies and approaches to AI. It's the smallest of seeds, but I have a vision for what it can grow into.

[campoverlook-if]

Progress Update #4// 4/3/24

Hey everyone, just wanted to update you all on the story.

I've started a new process for the past few days where I write for two hours and then take fifteen-thirty minute breaks in between. I'm still blanking on what to write for a section sometimes, but I'm really trying not to have grayed out choices again. That was NOT fun.

Still, the writing process shouldn't be forced, but sometimes you just really need to kick your own ass and grab that text file by the ears. Plus, this is the most productive I've felt since getting my wisdom teeth removed.

In celebration of this new bout of inspiration, here's a sneak peek of an upcoming scene you may encounter in the update.

Alright, that's it. This girl can't just bully you away because she doesn't like you. You hadn't even done anything when she first started acting nasty towards you. Yes, you may have walked away in the middle of a conversation, but she had been so…aggressive. You weren't just going to stand there and take it, and you definitely weren't going to start now. So, you take a step closer to Claire, giving her a leveled glare of your own. "Last time I checked, this table doesn't belong to you." Tension quickly fills the air around the two of you. Claire doesn't respond to your retort, but she doesn't need to. Her body language gives you all the information you need to know.

Ooooh boi, what the hell did you do to make Claire this mad at you. And on the first day? Tragic.

Along with that we'll be getting into a few things before finally ending episode 1:

Reworked the gender system of the counselors. Now you can choose from the beginning how you want them to be.

Added the choice to be non-binary (a new batch of campers, hooyay!). Also need to add onto scenes with Asher, Claire, and Lucas.

Meeting the final two counselors (Ruby and Silas).

An added scene with E for returning MCs during your walk to the mess hall.

Going through orientation, including a fun scavenger hunt (Uncle Robert said it would be fun, don't believe him).

A small scene with your new roommates in your cabins.

I'm so excited just thinking about it, and I'm the one writing the dang story.

If you hadn't seen it yet, I answered an ask a little bit ago about doing visuals for the blog. I'm not the best at visual media (that's more my mother's thing) but I can use a character maker like a mf if I have too.

It was kinda nice, a little limiting, but it was surprisingly helpful for me to have it. I've thought about how these characters look for so long it's strange to suddenly see them brought to life in any type of way except text. The character bios have been updated with these pictures now.

(UPDATE: LITERALLY MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT DECISION: SLEEP DEPRIVED AF BEHAVIOR)

So, I wrote this update yeaterday and was planning for it to just post through queue like I normally do, but the situation has changed. The demo will be updated again, however the stopping point is literally the same. The only major changes are the gender system, adding being non-binary, and having everything on one file (pray for me). The stopping point is still the same.

All in all the word count is now at this point: 57k (W/O Code), 14K (average). Not a huge jump average wise, but I'm happy anyway.

Link to demo here.

(END OF EMERGENCY UPDATE)

That's all I wanted to talk about for now, if you run into any bugs just let me know and I'll fix it lickity split.

See you all on the next update!

P.S. - I love it when new people follow and only like the posts of certain counselors. I know who you're into now ;).

[blackcrowing]

Let's talk about The Morrígu and Sovereignty

I've noticed a trend over the years among those who work with the Morrígu (especially among Americans, probably because you know 'freedom') where the word sovereignty gets thrown around a lot in some.... odd contexts...

For example "You should never worry about telling her no, she's the goddess of sovereignty she'll respect your decisions EVERYTIME!"

I've always found this very confusing since... She literally brings down her full wrath against Cu Chulainn for rejecting her advances/boons and becoming the high king (and being symbolically married to her)... wasn't a choice... the druids would preform a ceremony and receive divine visions of the future high king and I've NEVER heard of it being turned down.

So lets look at a few definitions;

First for Sovereignty

Sovereignty, though its meanings have varied across history, also has a core meaning, supreme authority within a territory. It is a modern notion of political authority. Historical variants can be understood along three dimensions — the holder of sovereignty, the absoluteness of sovereignty, and the internal and external dimensions of sovereignty. The state is the political institution in which sovereignty is embodied. An assemblage of states forms a sovereign states system.

-from Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

vs. Individual Sovereignty

'sovereignty of the individual, 'individual sovereignty' or self-sovereignty is generally understood to imply one's property rights including self-ownership also called negative sovereignty, but also includes the rejection of or freedom from positive sovereignty where negative sovereignty includes property rights and positive sovereignty includes the right to subjugate people to command obedience or sovereign rule

- from Wikipedia

The concept of Individual Sovereignty (sometimes called self ownership) is primarily a legal and political philosophy that has grown out of other individualist philosophies. So it would be pretty obvious why it resonates with modern peoples (Americans especially).

Now back to The Morrígu. They are not deities of INDIVIDUAL sovereignty, but classical sovereignty. They empower the kings (high kings especially) to rule the land and are the acting forces which remove kings in the event that they don't uphold the divine expectations of their position (such as true judgments).

Don't believe me? Still thinking to yourself "yes but The Morrígu would never expect me to give up my individual sovereignty, they're empowering." In that case I won't even direct you back to the story of Cu Chulainn, instead we'll look at Macha, wife of Cruinniuc. When she is brought to the horse race, obviously pregnant and asks the king not to make her prove her husbands boasts he declines her request. If The Morrígu were interested in individual sovereignty over sovereignty this would have been a perfect moment to show that. Instead Macha does as her king demands and runs the race, but in her divine aspect she curses not just that king (for his mistreatment of those under him, ie. a pregnant woman) but also all his men and their descendents.

The idea of The Morrígu is not some super individualized empowerment allowing you to defy the authority of those around you (including the gods), the core value is one of justice for those who ARE tread on by Sovereign powers. This may feel like splitting hairs but I assure you the distinction is one worth thinking about, and possibly even changing the way you speak about The Morrígu.

photo credit: @purpureaphoto @morpheus-ravenna Cindyruch

[inevitably-ineffable-husbands]

Hey Steph,

Ive been thinking about this and I need your opinion. (Reaaally enjoyed the liveblog btw <3) I was thinking what to tell Aziraphale at the end why he shouldn't go to heaven and basically: a) as the main Archangel, he'd totally put himself in harms way (they don't have a great track record of dealing with them...). If a second runaway is seen as an institutional failure, what would they do to avoid a third? Totally erase his existence out of the book of life if he effs up, right? To cover their tracks. And he's right there, surrounded by them. b) It's not like he has any real power. See Gabriel; the minute he vetoed deatroying earth, they wanted to demote him and erase his memory. Without hesitation. So he's just a puppet king, so to say. And c) I don't /trust/ Metatron. Are you really trying to tell me they just randomly decided they like Aziraphale? After the way they talked to him in s1? I don't think so. I think Metatron's just trying to split them up, because together they actually hqve a chance if stopping the 2nd coming. So now they're separated, there's an emotional wedge between them and Aziraphale is right under their thumb. In short, and I'm gonna quote what I said when I watched it, "Nooooo! Aziraphale, nononononono. nonono.... no.."

(Also I feel do bad for Crowley. It looks like he's gonna have to save him again and their relationship already seems kind of emotionally one-sided? Like, Crowley listens to him, supports his passions. But their both trash communicators, I guess. Even when they talk, they don't talk...)

Hey Nonny!!

AHHH I'm so happy you enjoyed my liveblogging!! I hope I wasn't TOO annoying, but I had no livestream to scream at about it so my blog it was, LOL.

OOOF okay I'm kind of still trying to process the end myself, and as someone who REALLY sees herself in Aziraphale, I can totally understand why he did what he did. I was going to expand upon it more in the "season meta" I'm currently writing, but answering this question will also cover a large section I'm writing about the ending, so I'll just answer your questions here and link back to this post, hahaha.

Let's touch upon each of your points, and then I'll give you my general all-around thoughts:

A. I was thinking what to tell Aziraphale at the end why he shouldn't go to heaven and basically: a) as the main Archangel, he'd totally put himself in harm's way (they don't have a great track record of dealing with them...). If a second runaway is seen as an institutional failure, what would they do to avoid a third? Totally erase his existence out of the book of life if he effs up, right? To cover their tracks. And he's right there, surrounded by them.

I had this thought too, Nonny, and that's why I think Azzie is being REALLY naïve in this scene, but ultimately... I think it's all about saving Crowley. I will go more into this in my meta, but the gist of my suspicions hangs on that I believe Aziraphale feels he's responsible for Crowley's Fall, and Aziraphale thinks that if HE'S the one in Gabriel's position, he has the power to do whatever's necessary to bring that joy back to Crowley's life.

We have to remember: Aziraphale DOESN'T KNOW what Crowley knows, but we as an audience do, and because we DO know, it's that choice that makes us scream at the TV in frustration because good-hearted Aziraphale, who wants only what is best for his crush best friend, DOESN'T KNOW that this system is why Gabriel got ousted. Azzie doesn't KNOW about Armageddon 2.0. WE know because Crowley knows, and Crowley never got the chance to tell him (and judging by the dialogue in S2, Azzie ALSO doesn't know about the cruelty that was displayed in their exterminations in S1E6). He doesn't KNOW that Heaven despises him as opposed to "puts up with him". Aziraphale IS a good person and he genuinely believes that him being in charge WILL change things. He doesn't know.

HE DOESN'T KNOW.

I REALLY have a sneaking suspicion that Crowley will actually be the bargaining chip for Heaven to persuade Aziraphale to go along with whatever they want, once Aziraphale realizes he has no power. He showed his hand to the Metatron and the other Angels when he perked up about Crowley coming with him. Crowley might be outwardly and publicly protective of Azzie, but Azzie is INWARDLY and privately protective of Crowley, and tends to try to fix a situation on his own which usually goes pear-shaped for him in the end. So, I don't think it will be Aziraphale removed from the Book of Life to get what they want... It will be the threat of Crowley being exterminated for good.

So yeah, we as an audience know that Aziraphale's walking right into a death slash no-win trap, and despite what happened in E6, I think in S3, we will see Crowley come to rescue him. Big Chekov's gun moment when Aziraphale said in this SAME episode "He does so love coming to rescue me". We're going to get rewarded for a lot of Chekov's guns that are in play this season, methinks.

b) It's not like he has any real power. See Gabriel; the minute he vetoed destroying earth, they wanted to demote him and erase his memory. Without hesitation. So he's just a puppet king, so to say.

Exactly, Nonny. As I mentioned, Aziraphale showed his hand to the Metatron. They WILL use Crowley as leverage, and I think Aziraphale will FINALLY see Heaven for what it truly is: just another side of the same coin that Hell is on. Aziraphale is NOT a stupid person, he just truly does see the good in people (Crowley himself said he's too pure-hearted) but unfortunately that good heart tends to get Azzie into heaps of trouble. Like I said above, Azzie doesn't KNOW what Heaven is capable of, truly, because he hasn't seen it. I think once he sees it, and has his whole view about it shattered, when he realizes that, actually, he CAN'T do whatever he wants to make things better, he will be swayed, finally, to go back to Crowley and tell Heaven to fuck off... and only then will he realize he can't leave because of the stranglehold and leverage Heaven will have on him. The other angels weren't candidates in Metatron's eyes because they can't be manipulated. Azzie CAN because he has something more valuable to him than himself: Crowley's wellbeing. And I think it's here where we will get our trope of Azzie thinking "well, I fucked it up with Us, he's not going to come and save me this time".

BUT HAHAHAH Nope, Crowley will hear about this and come in like the vengeful angel he is. Because let's be real, I think even though he's had his heart shattered, he will always go back to Aziraphale to save him; Aziraphale has pretty much become Crowley's life's purpose.

This, then, actually plays into my theory that Crowley IS a very powerful fallen Angel. Archangels actually rank pretty low on the hierarchy (they're actually BELOW Aziraphale's Principality status, so that's an interesting little detail to file away for later). Since this season was primarily from Azzie's POV, I think next season will be Crowley's, and we'll finally get the answer as to who he really is and why he Fell. Because of his former ranking, I think he will be the catalyst that gets Aziraphale OUT of the situation he's going to be in. I really REALLY am confident that the nuggets of clues they're putting into the show about Crowley's true self will pay off in a big way.

And c) I don't /trust/ Metatron. Are you really trying to tell me they just randomly decided they like Aziraphale? After the way they talked to him in s1? I don't think so. I think Metatron's just trying to split them up, because together they actually have a chance if stopping the 2nd coming. So now they're separated, there's an emotional wedge between them and Aziraphale is right under their thumb.

ABSOLUTELY I don't trust the Metatron either, and as I said above, he is manipulating Aziraphale. He knew 100% Crowley would not join Aziraphale in Heaven. He KNOWS that Aziraphale feels lost being "retired" from Heaven, feels like he's not able to do the Good that he wants to do. Metatron's using Aziraphale's desire to Do Good and Make Things Better for Everyone against him, and it's so deliciously cruel and I can't wait for the payoff.

AND. Okay, a VERY PROMINENT PLOT POINT in the season was just how powerful a TINY, SMALL miracle performed by them BOTH COMBINING THEIR POWER is. It SET OFF ALARMS IN HEAVEN, it was so powerful. Crowley unfortunately, in a "blink and you miss it" line, let it be known nonchalantly that they just were able to hide Gabriel so easily from everyone. Heaven now knows that the two of them together would thwart Armageddon 2.0 if they got involved (which they would to protect Humanity). Now, they know to split them up and puppet "the soft one", the one who they still have a grip on, and they have a better chance of initiating their plan with, as I said, the leverage they have against him.

Because imagine what Crowley and Aziraphale could do together if they let their FULL powers combine. Heaven suspects, and they can't let that happen. I think we will get a payoff to THAT Chekov's gun as well. Or, I hope so anyway. I feel it will be a climax plot point and will possibly also be used to shield themselves from Heaven and Hell for good.

(Also I feel do bad for Crowley. It looks like he's gonna have to save him again and their relationship already seems kind of emotionally one-sided? Like, Crowley listens to him, supports his passions. But their both trash communicators, I guess. Even when they talk, they don't talk...)

For SURE Nonny, and that's the point Nina and Maggie were trying to make to Crowley. They have been at a standstill since Armageddon in their relationship, and it's because both are terrible at ACTUAL COMMUNICATION with each other. We SEE how much they care about each other. The foundations are there. Both are in a sort of limbo because they really don't know "what's next". Remember: Crowley slept through about half of the 4 years (from the Lockdown minisode) so really they've not seen much of each other since Armageddon.

That said, I think their relationship only seems emotionally one-sided, because Crowley is REALLY BAD at hiding his REALLY BIG FEELINGS™ to the point that it's noticeable to LITERALLY everyone else EXCEPT the one person that matters. I think I saw a post describe it best: Aziraphale fell FIRST, but Crowley fell HARDER, which is so true. This doesn't mean that Aziraphale loves Crowley less, it's just that Aziraphale has a lot of trauma and hangups that he won't be able to get over until he's finally free of Heaven's claws; he needs to get over the hump that has him believing that he is undeserving of Crowley's affections because they are angel-and-demon. Crowley, on the other hand, has Big Feelings that evolved into endless surface-level pining.

Crowley's love language is acts of service, so it's WAY more prominent in the series and easier to spot. I think Aziraphale's love language is quality time, but in S2 we see it develop more into physical touch as well, which must be driving Crowley INSANE with lust for him. Seriously, on rewatch, I could NOT get over HOW MUCH Azzie actually touches or reaches for Crowley. Even during the Kiss, he can't help but rub his hands along Crowley's shoulders and back. Aziraphale, unfortunately, is one of those people (like me *cough*) that tend to realize Big Things™ Too Late™, and then think it's now Fucked Up Forever, so back into the bottle those Big Feelings™ go. I GENUINELY believe that Aziraphale didn't realize Crowley loved him until That Moment™, that everything Crowley did was because of a crush, not because they were best friends who would die for each other. Trust me, it's REALLY confusing for people like Aziraphale to process a mutual love, to the point that it's scary and better off bottled up for fear of losing that person.

The time wasn't right For Them at that moment. Not enough was said and both have been stuck in a limbo since Armageddon. Both have some character building to do. And when A Moment happens again (and I believe in my heart that it will), it WILL be the right time, because they've finally found each other and are both on the same page.

-----------

In conclusion, I feel S3 will be about Them Saving Each Other from Themselves. It will be about them finally talking TO each other. It will be about the big emotional payoff for all the angst we went through in Season 2. It will be big and emotional and I am ALL here for it.

Aziraphale and Crowley will get their happily ever after. But we HAD to have THIS angst and setback for it to work.

Thank you so much for this ask!! It's really helped me gather my thoughts about sections of S2 :) I have a LOT to say and this is just a small snippet of it! <3

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: The Rules of Magic

[unicorn fuck club] Brandon Sanderson: so I’ve got a story Sanderson: I call it the tale of cosmere universe Sanderson: it’s kind of long, so you should all probably go to the bathroom first

Sanderson: so here’s what you have to know about the cosmere universe Sanderson: it’s got a hard magic system Sanderson: you have to spend 8 points of manna to cast magic missile Sanderson: but only if you get +2 on your saving dexterity roll Sanderson: and if there’s a level 3 cleric or above in your party, they can roll to assist Alan Moore: [appearing in a flash of thunder] greetings mortals Sanderson: um excuse me sir Sanderson: you cannot just appear like that Sanderson: by the rules of magic, you have to first roll a +8 in spell casting OR shadow weaving Moore: foolish imp, my magic cannot be contained! Moore: your earthly laws cannot bind my powers Moore: for magic knows no rules Moore: only vibes  

Sanderson: UM Sanderson: that’s NOT the way it works Sanderson: there are RULES, you know Sanderson: three of them Clive Barker: damn I’m surprised you had time to come up with three whole rules what with all those doorstoppers you write Sanderson: well there was going to be a fourth but I ran out of time Sanderson: Sanderson: why are you Barker: yeah I’m here sometimes Barker: I wrote abarat, that counts Sanderson: the cosmere universe has 8 realms: sun, moon, flesh, ether, dirt, water, fire, heart Sanderson: and each realm has 12 singularities, called perpetuities Sanderson: each of those perpetuities are endowed with the essence of the create-o-sphere Sanderson: that’s the cosmic pangea that split to make the 4 orbs of knowing Sanderson: see, what you have to understand in that the universe has chaos AND order Sanderson: like, balances of them

Sanderson: also another important thing Sanderson: whenever anyone feels an emotion, like a little sprite representing that emotion appears and dances around for a bit Sanderson: but don’t worry Sanderson: you don’t need to know any of that to understand the story Barker: wow that’s interesting Barker: so I hear you hate gay people, what’s up with that Barker: Barker: oh sorry usually about this time edgar would intervene Barker: haha damn I’m not used to working alone

Barker: so I heard you hate gay people Sanderson: haha no no you got it all wrong Sanderson: I don’t personally hate gay people Sanderson: I simply support an institution that wants to kill them

Sanderson: I think they’re neat Sanderson: if it were up to me, they wouldn’t be exterminated at all Sanderson: but jeez, guys, who am I to tell the Mormon church it’s wrong? Sanderson: I really don’t have any choice here other than to keep tithing them millions of dollars Sanderson: I guess I gotta just hope they don’t use all that money for anything bad Sanderson: but my hands are tied Orson Scott Card: oh yeah totally very relatable

Barker: haha that sucks, man Sanderson: whoa whoa whoa Sanderson: look, I know you all think I’m some sort of bogeyman for giving millions of dollars to a church that wants to kill queer people Sanderson: but consider this Sanderson: I wrote Lord Orebor Twylbyll in The Shroud of Steel and Ivory to be gray ace Sanderson: so really I think that balances everything out Barker: Barker: haha Barker: that still sucks man

[a-witch-in-endor]

MO 17 High Sage Check-In

I’m a third of the way through chapter 17 and giving myself the treat of sharing the next check-in! 

Spoilers below the cut:

*

Acting High Sage Tatsuya is not permitted to see High Sage Kenji alone. 

There is no technical rule against it. When Kenji was the High Sage, nobody would have questioned him walking into the room of a sequestered Fire Sage or Great Sage. It would be expected, even, for the gathering of evidence.

But Tatsuya is not Kenji. He does not have the trust inherent in the status of a High Sage elected by their peers. Tatsuya is walking the unsteadiest of ground; he is here because he was trusted by Kenji and because he was willing to betray him. 

“I have news,” Tatsuya says, ignoring the presence of the sages and guards who have been assigned to follow him. 

This is the first time Tatsuya has entered this sequestering room. As a friend, he should have been here days ago. As the Acting High Sage in this particular court of vipers, he should not be here at all.

Sometimes, General Iroh would have said, you have to split the difference, even if that means breaking things.

Kenji looks up. He’s been assigned a reading desk, at which he is currently kneeling. He has, in front of him, a scriptural scroll. He’s been left here with scripture, but not with much else. In theory, Kenji could request many things to read; in practice, Tatsuya assumes nobody is willing to listen when he talks, just in case. 

Just in case seems to be a common issue in their temple. Perhaps Zuko was not incorrect; perhaps it has been a common issue in their whole system for far too long. 

Kenji removes his glasses with careful, steady fingers. 

“Well then, Acting High Sage,” he says, as if they are strangers. Perhaps, in this moment, they are. “I have little choice but to hear your news.” 

Tatsuya breathes steadily. At least, given to Kenji, this is good news. Unlike the Fire Lord, Kenji is not going to become a fire hazard as a result. 

“It is about Fire Sage Zuko,” Tatsuya says. And then, quickly, in order to refrain from allowing Kenji to think this is a death announcement: “He appears to have… escaped.” 

Kenji’s features go very still for a moment. 

Tatsuya watches in silence and offers no comfort. It’s a challenge, after decades of being Kenji’s confidant and closest ally, not to offer him anything in this moment. 

He watches as Kenji closes his eyes, a brief wave of relief washing over his features, before resting his forehead on the heel of his hand. It’s a deliberate move, Tatsuya thinks; Kenji’s face is now mostly hidden, and the black wrist-cuff sits between them, a metaphorical barrier that puts them on opposite sides of a gulf. 

Tatsuya wishes he could explain himself. But speaking freely is a privilege long lost.

“Thank you,” Kenji says, returning to a controlled posture, “for telling me.” And then, before Tatsuya can nod and take his leave, he adds: “How?”

Tatsuya hesitates.

“Nobody knows for sure,” he explains, with a glance to the guards. “But we unearthed an empty casket.”