#life settlement brokers

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Sheep Days with Joel (post outbreak)

Word count: 5.9k (im so sorry i genuinely can't believe I wrote this much about an old man taking care of livestock) Rating: swearing, descriptions of an animal birth (I tried to make it not too gross or explicit), traumatic animal birth, discussions of labour and stillbirths Summary: At Tommy and Ellie's insistence of him finding a routine, Joel is appointed as the sheep caretaker in Jackson. After all, sheep are quiet, and do what they're told. How hard could it be? A/N: this is purely self indulgent, peepaw playing with animals. No romantic interest or pairing, just wholesome father daughter interactions, along with some other characters. Something about the holidays made me think about that conversation that Joel and Ellie had over the fire, and his dream of owning a sheep ranch, and before I knew it 5k was written. If you have read all of this, please know that I love you so incredibly much and you make it worth it to keep writing these silly little stories that bring me so much joy. main masterlist

Life in Jackson had a way of moving at the speed of molasses, while also propelling itself further into the future at the speed of light.

Some days were syrupy and slow, thick with palpable moments of survival, tension and freedom. Memories of what life was like before the outbreak. Other days however felt like the course of an electric current, with glitches and shocks jumping from one event to another, one threat to another in the span of a few hours in a day. Attacks from raiders during ambushes in the early morning, a group of coordinated clickers just outside patrol borders when dusk set in.

Even just the day to day events in Jackson could make one feel that life seemed to pass by at a static, yet dynamic pace, regardless of what routine you had fallen into in the modest settlement.

Joel was still getting used to it. The staticity, as well as the dynamism. Life before Jackson was nomadic. Rootless. Constantly on the run.

Endure and survive. That’s all that really mattered at the end of the day. The words bore a penultimate weight akin to the wartime motivational phrase, ‘keep calm and carry on.’ 

Well, that’s all Joel knew how to do.

Carry on.

Not so much the keep calm part, but he was no stranger to putting his head down and pressing forward when things got tough. Carrying on also meant being strong for others. Something which Joel is constantly reminded that he need no longer do now that he and Ellie are in Jackson. Now that they are safe.

And there is no shortage of people who tell him the same, including Tommy and Maria, and even Ellie.

“You gotta find something to do, man,” Tommy sighed and crossed his arms, leaning into the doorframe of the kitchen. “Something to help you get into a routine y’know.”

Joel glared at his younger brother. “The hell d’you mean I gotta find something, Tommy? I already have a routine.” He scowled and shifted his jaw.

This is the 3rd or 4th time the subject has been brought up and Joel’s just about had it. He doesn’t get it. He does things. He does stuff around the commune. He goes on patrol shifts, helps with the woodworking and labour jobs. He goes to some of the community events, like game nights held at the dining hall or movie nights- even though it takes a good 30 minutes of Ellie’s begging for his resolve to crumble, and he grumbles throughout the entire movie. 

As if Tommy can read his mind, he responds. “Going on patrol doesn’t count as routine, Joel.”

Puffing out his chest and mirroring Tommy’s body language, Joel glares at his younger brother.

“And here we go again,” Ellie quips from her seat at the kitchen table.

There’s a smirk plastered across her face despite her gaze, focused intently on the weathered pages of an old astronomy book.

“You stay outta this.” 

Joel’s clipped tone brokers no room for negotiation, Ellie’s known him long enough to recognize that. But that doesn’t stop her from pushing him, just because she can.

“You stay outta this. Rah rah rah. I’m Joel and I hate everything.” She mocks his deep southern drawl with exaggeration, continuing to look down at her book. 

“Tommy’s right, Joel. Say whatever you want but you can’t just fill your days with the odd jobs around here. And going on patrol. And hanging with me.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Joel exhales, his nostrils flaring. “Ellie-”

“Look, dude,” she cuts him off, “I love you, but it wouldn’t kill you to find something else to do with your time. It’s not the end of the world. I mean, it is but c’mon. It’s like you’d rather get killed by a fucking clicker than step outside your comfort zone.”

At that, Tommy snorts and shakes his head. 

“It’d be a hell of a lot less painful than this conversation, that’s for fuckin’ sure.” Joel huffs and puts his hands on his hips. 

“There’s lots of other jobs in the commune that you could help out with. Jobs that you don’t even need skilled labour experience for.”

“Like what, Tommy? Teachers at the school? Volunteers for movie night?” His scowl deepens, as does the crease between Joel’s brows. 

“Like training newcomers on patrol shifts, working at the clothing shop, working with the livestock-”

“Livestock? What kinda livestock?” Perking up in her seat, Ellie pushes the book away and turns to face Tommy. 

“Just for the horses, chicken, sheep and pigs. Well, it’s really for the sheep ‘cause we came into a decent sized herd in the last couple months, and they’re a bit tricky to look after.” 

Tommy runs his hands through his raven curls and chuckles. “No one’s been able to quite figure them out yet, and they don’t trust Jake- the caretaker for the horses and pigs.”

“Sheep?” Ellie’s mouth gapes open, her bright mischievous eyes finding Joel’s.

“Joel. Sheep.”

Already knowing where the conversation was headed, Joel tips his head back and looks up at the ceiling. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” 

__________________________________________________

And that is precisely how Joel finds himself knocked on his ass, after getting headbutted by one of the older lambs, in an attempt to get their halter on and bring them into the barn.

“You little shit, get back here!” he barks at the young sheep as it trots away from him towards the food trough. 

Rubbing the right side of his jaw and grimacing, he sits back on his hands, looking at the rest of the herd a few feet away from him. “I’ve a right mind to tell them to serve lamb for the rest of the month at the dining hall. How’s that sound?”

A few sheep at the hay bale turn to look his way, chewing absentmindedly before ignoring him again.  It had been about ten days since Tommy enlisted Joel as the sheep caretaker, or as Ellie had so lovingly called him, Jackson’s resident shepherd, and Joel had to admit, the job wasn’t half of what he expected. 

It turns out sheep weren’t quiet, and they certainly didn’t do what they were told. Sheep were actually a pain in the ass to keep. A royal pain in the ass. Much different than cows and horses, despite being herd animals. 

Not to mention that they were creative, escape artists, always jumping over the fence of the pen or squeezing in between the slats of the fence. It was a regular occurrence to hear the phrase ‘loose sheep’ or ‘the sheep are out again’ being hollered across the main street, as a handful of them skittered across the main road, Joel out of breath as he jogged after them, the stitch in his side burning through his abdomen, while he knees ached incessantly.

His first week was spent just getting close enough to them so that he could tag their ears for the breeding records. Not that he could manage to even get a hand on any, especially the young lambs.  As soon as he got within 8 feet of the herd they would scurry away, kicking and bucking into the air, or run right past him, as he keeled over trying to catch them. Needless to say, Joel didn’t manage to avoid getting headbutted and kicked a handful of times during those days. 

Cursing, he dusted off his pants and leaned against the fence of the pen. 

“How’s it coming?” Tommy’s voice called out to him from the opposite end of the pen.

Narrowing his eyes in response, Joel hunched over to rest his hands on his knees.

“Easy my fuckin’ ass you liar. These little shits are demons.”

Stifling a chuckle, Tommy rests his arms over the fence and looks down. “Like I said, it takes some time to get to know ‘em. 

It was wrong to laugh at his brother’s misfortunes but he couldn’t help it as he watched Joel’s hulking figure tentatively approach the herd again before pausing as they all scattered around him.  

“S’that why you haven’t been able to recruit any other unfortunate souls for this torture?” Placing his hands on his hips, he shifts his weight from one leg, appraising the herd. 

“No,” Tommy huffs out an exhale, “most folks don’t have the time to commit or they don’t have an affinity for animals.”

He looks out at the horizon, scanning the snow covered peaks of the mountain range bordering the settlement, before his gaze returns to Joel. He smirks as that familiar scowl settles onto Joel’s face. 

“I do not have an affinity for animals.”

Snorting, Tommy looks down at his feet again, nudging the toe of his boot into the hardened ground. “Is that so? That why no one else has been able to ride Callus out on patrol?”

Joel grunts. “That’s different. I wasn’t taking care of him, I was only riding him cause everyone else had their designated mounts.”

Lying through his teeth was easier than admitting that Joel actually loved having a special bond with the chestnut gelding that seemed to hate everyone else. 

It took time.

Lots of hushed murmurs and praise for the gelding to learn to trust again. Not to mention that Joel seemed to have endless patience for the imposing gelding, never getting frustrated with him or upset when their progress seemed to regress. Plus, he had that quiet commanding authority that seemed to ease Callus’ nerves whenever he became frantic and anxious.

Before he knew it, Callus was following him around the paddock, poking his head out of his stall and nickering whenever Joel stepped foot in the barn. 

“Whatever you say, Joel. Whatever you say.” The younger Miller shook his head and stepped back from the fence. “I’ll let you get back to it, since you got your hands full,” Tommy squinted and peered around Joel’s figure, “or, rather, your pockets full, I should say.”

Before he can even glance behind him, Joel feels a harsh tug on his back pocket, stumbling backwards as one of the young lambs tears a shred of the bandana in his pocket.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Gimme that back you piece of-” he bellows as the lamb prances away with the scrap of faded red cloth in its mouth, echoes of Tommy’s laugh fading into the background as he walks away.

_____________________________________________

A couple months later …

It had been roughly over a month since Joel started taking care of the sheep. Their upkeep became somewhat easier as Joel figured out their quirks and tricks to working with them, but the real difference was that Joel did indeed fall into a routine with them. 

Everyday he got up before Ellie had to be up for school, and headed over to the barn to give them their morning feed. Then, he’d come home, eat breakfast, and walk Ellie to school, shortly before returning to clean their pen and stack hay bales in the barn loft. Sometimes he would even shear some of them when their coats became too thick. At the end of the day, he’d pick Ellie up from school and they’d have dinner together in the evening, then he would pop out again to feed them dinner and do a final night check before lights out. 

They were surprisingly curious creatures, and smart. While he would mill about his different chores, they would follow him as he walked around the outskirts of the pen. When he was cleaning up the pen, they would nudge the wheelbarrow, knocking it over in the process.

Eventually, they stopped running from him and would eagerly approach as he walked through the barn into the outside pen, carrying a heavy hay bale for their breakfast or dinner.

When he’d get lost in his aimless thoughts, or stuck on paralyzing flashbacks, a panic attack brewing under the surface, he’d feel a tug on his sleeve or the back of his jacket.

Pairs of deep brown eyes surrounded by a halo of soft cloud like wool would simply stare back at him. Calmly grounding him back to reality. Not that he encountered those very often. What was even more surprising to Joel was that he had panic attacks way less often these days, his brain seeming to allow him some rest and solace from its usual fight or flight status. Even Ellie and Tommy noticed too, with Ellie pointing out that he was ‘less of a grumpy motherfucker than usual.’

He never named them, though. He wouldn’t allow himself that liberty.

They were just animals. Creatures.

Creatures, who in the beginning were ‘little shits with crack for brains and body padding like the Michelin man,’ according to Joel. Soon, however, ‘little shits’ turned into ‘little devils,’ which eventually turned into ‘little buggers,’ with an affectionate lilt behind the nickname. 

It was Thursday today and the vet was coming by to look after the horses and give them their seasonal shots, along with the sheep, too. With temperatures dropping, the animals had to be prepared for the harsh onslaught of cold weather that was native to Jackson winters. Although the commune was prosperous and there was no shortage of food and supply, or need to ration, the animals were always of high concern. 

“How much are you feeding them nowadays?” Dr. Joyce, the local vet, asked as she placed her stethoscope to the belly of one of the mature ewe’s.

“‘Bout 25 pounds of hay a day, and 15-20 pounds of grain on top of that.”

She hummed contemplatively as she shifted the stethoscope knob throughout the mass of wool covering the sheeps’ belly. “That’s quite a bit considering the size of the herd you have here.”

She nods to the rest of the herd munching away at their breakfast in the pen.

Joel shrugs in response. “That’s what Jake was feeding them beforehand but he suggested I up it as we come into winter, to help ‘em keep weight on.”

“Well, he’s certainly not wrong.” She reaches into her kit to pull out a packaged syringe, ripping open the wrapping and flicking the end of the needle two times. Small droplets of liquid ricochet out as she pinches the skin of the ewe’s neck, not covered in wool, and gently inserts the syringe. 

“Is there anything else I should be doing? Or anything else I could do to help them more when winter hits?”

While Joel would admit that he still really has no idea what he’s doing taking care of these animals, it doesn’t mean that he won’t give his all in providing care to them. He’s come to realize he actually likes learning about the sheep, aspects of their care, behaviour and physiology. It scratches parts of his brain that were only really activated when he was contracting, woodworking, or other technical jobs. And he doesn’t half ass jobs, no matter the nature of them.

Dr. Joyce swiftly removes the needle within seconds, and smiles warmly at him. 

“Nothing in particular, Joel. You’ve done a great job taking care of these guys so far, I know they’re not easy to look after.”

At that he chuckles and shoves his hands in his pockets as he leans against the stall door. “You could say that. There’s been a deep learning curve with ‘em that’s for sure.”

She nods and opens the back stall door that leads out to the pen, the ewe trots out to return to the herd. “Well, like I said, you’ve done a good job so far. Aside from keeping up with shearing them, although you won’t have to worry about that too much come winter, they’re pretty low maintenance. Keep them on lots of hay throughout the winter, and give them more grain to supplement for the colder weather. And some of them may need more than others, especially the pregnant ones.”

He nods along, running through the mental checklist of things he’s already been doing to increase their food supply, when he looks up at the vet.

“Pregnant?”  His brows furrow and he frowns. 

“Oh boy. I guess Jake left that part out when you took over?” The vet chuckles again as she takes in the dazed look on his face and scans the herd briefly.

“You do have a couple pregnant ewe’s here, probably at least 3 or 4. But that one,” she points to a particularly large sheep under the shelter that’s lying down, unkempt wool and hay covering half her face. “That one, 1633, she’s the furthest along. Probably another week or two before she pops.”

“A week?” Joel repeats it, disbelief still laced in his tone. “Shit, I thought she was just really fat. And lazy.” He narrows his gaze at the ewe, tilting his head slightly as he takes in the obvious rising and falling of her midsection, her legs barely tucked underneath her. 

“Don’t worry, Joel, I know easier said than done,” she reassures him after clocking the worry etched into his features. “But sheep births are often fairly quick and easy, not as intense as horse or cow births due to their smaller size. I’ll be on call over the next week in case anything happens but just put more bedding in the stall here during the evenings for her, and keep her feed the same. She will handle the rest.”

Inhaling sharply, Joel nods, processing it all. She tells him what signs to look out for that indicate early labour, and gives him a brief list of things he can do to prepare, as well as supplies that could be helpful during the birth and afterwards. At least the doc will be there to help out so that he’s not completely on his own, despite being very out of his league. 

“Sounds good, doc, I’ll call ya if I notice any changes in her or when she does drop.”

“Please, do. And I’ll see if Jake can come in for an hour or two during your off hours in the event she does go into labour then.”

__________________________________________

Three days after Dr. Joyce’s visit, 1633 goes into labour. Nearly 10pm, just as the settlement tucks in for bed and night shift patrols begin. Dr. Joyce was busy with another animal emergency, of course. Just his luck. 

So, he recruits the next best thing, and gently wakes Ellie up after rushing back to the house after a night check. He hands Ellie the list of supplies that Dr. Joyce gave him and she blitzes throughout the house, gathering the different things in a box.

Of course, the curiosity, fear and excitement over an animal being born was not lost on his teenage daughter. She fired off a barrage of endless questions as she was right on his heels, following him throughout the house.

“Has her water broken? Is she in pain? What direction is the baby gonna be facing when it comes out? Did you call Dr. Joyce?” 

“You bleat more than the damn sheep these days, y’know that? C’mon just get that stuff together for me.”

Joel huffs as he grabs a bucket from under the kitchen sink, thinking of what else he could grab. It had to be the night when Tommy and Maria were both out on patrol as well, leaving just him and Ellie. 

God help him.

When they returned to the barn, the ewe was in the stall, lying on her side, bleating out her obvious discomfort. He quickly takes his thick jacket off, hanging it on a nearby post before stepping into the stall. 

“Alright, honey, alright, it’s okay.” The low murmurs of his voice only seem to agitate the ewe more, as she bleats repeatedly while he approaches and crouches down beside her. His eyes never leave the ewe’s body.

“Ellie, hand me a couple big towels.” She reaches into the box of supplies and hands him two fluffy towels, crouching down beside Joel slowly. The ewe continues to let out loud long bleating groans, huffing as her body starts preparing for labour and her water breaks with an audible slosh.

“Shit. Well, there goes her water.” He huffs, his mouth pressed into a straight line as he tries to peek and see any signs of a muzzle or cloven hooves coming out. 

Gagging and turning away slightly, Ellie groans.

“Ugh, okay that’s fucking gross!” 

He gives her a disapproving frown. “You’ve seen worse before, calm down.”

“A clicker brain and exploding guts is not nearly as gross as this. How are you not freaking out? 

Suddenly, the ewe lets out a long bleating groan again and thrashes her hind legs, in an attempt to get up frantically. 

“Shit. Whoa, whoa, whoa, mama. Easy there. Y’can’t get up just yet.” He hovers over the sheep and tries to coax her back on the ground.

“Ellie, come around here, help me keep her on her side.”

She shuffles around to Joel’s other side and buries her hand into the soft thick wool, gently pressing down. “Have you ever done this before?”

Joel grunts while he tries to contain its flailing legs, preventing the ewe from rolling over or getting up.

“Nope,” he strains. “I’ve seen one or two cow births, long time ago when I was growing up in Texas.”

“Shouldn’t be too different,” he says breathlessly, saying a silent prayer as he pulls the sheep away from kicking at the stone wall of the barn. “As long as she stays on the ground like this, she should be okay, she can’t get up or roll over though ‘cause it could hurt or suffocate the baby.”

“Okay, okay,” Ellie exhales shakily, wincing as the sheep bleats loudly.

“Hey,” he turns to gaze down at the teenager, his voice quiet but authoritative. “It’s gonna be okay, look at me.” Her dazed gaze snaps from the ewe up to meet Joel’s big brown eyes. Anxious. Focused. “It’s gonna be okay alright? She’s gonna be okay?”

Ellie nods her head, the hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she looks down at the ewe again. “It’s okay, momma, you’re okay, just breathe.”

No later than 5 minutes after do a pair of hooves and a muzzle appear. Ten minutes of pushing after that, the tiny lamb is lying sprawled out on the ground, Joel rubbing the remnants of placenta off its body and face.

“Joel.” 

It’s barely above a whisper as Ellie hovers over the baby, crouched on the balls of her toes. 

“Joel. It’s - it’s not breathing.” 

She inhales sharply and leans her head over the mouth, trying to feel or hear for a puff of air. 

He’s silent for a moment, and leans back looking at the tiny body covered in bodily fluids, and realizes there’s no movement coming from the lifeless body. No rising of its stomach, and its eyes are barely opened.

All of a sudden the vastness of the chilly barn shrinks to the size of a shoebox. The air suffocating, as if all the oxygen was sucked out of it.

“Fuck. Fuck. Get me another towel.” 

Rushing over to the box of supplies, Ellie hands him a smaller towel, as Joel leans down and wipes at the lamb's eyes, and around its nostrils. He tries to open its mouth to see if there’s any fluid trapped there but he can’t see.

“Get the baster. Hurry.” His clipped tone betrays his panic as Ellie places their turkey baster in his hand. 

It’s a poor substitution for an actual proper bulb syringe that is used to remove mucus and fluid from newborns’ mouths. He opens the lamb's mouth and inserts the baster roughly, pressing down on the bulb, as murky liquid is drawn through the clear pipette. He squirts the remnants of the baster out onto the ground and reinserts it into the lambs mouth, drawing more mucus and crap out a few more times until it’s empty.

They both wait a beat, panting heavily to see any sign of life on the little sheep. 

“She’s still not breathing. Fuck.” Ellie’s voice trembles. “She’s not breathing, Joel!”

“Okay, go into the feedroom and fill up the hot water bottle with warm water okay? Warm water, not hot, I’ll try to swaddle it in more towels, get some heat going.”

Immediately, she races to the feedroom with the rubber water bottle. As Joel hears the water running in the background, he wraps the lamb in two big towels. The ewe is now up and pacing frantically around Joel, sensing something is wrong. 

“C’mon baby, c’mon,” he rubs the covered lamb firmly, pressing his palm down slightly against the ribs and chest of the baby and shaking slightly. Nothing though, no sounds, no movement.

The ewe is now crying and bleating repeatedly as she paces circles around Joel, wanting to get to her baby. “I know, momma, I know. I’m trying. Fucking hell.”

The edges of his restraint and control start to fray. His heart is racing, chest tightening under the crushing realization that the lamb is a stillborn.  He cradles the lamb, swaddled in a mountain of towels now, squeezing his eyes shut and holding the tiny limp weight against his body. 

Moments later Ellie reappears at his side, sinking to her knees with the water bottle in both hands, the sloshing sound of the water drowning out the ewe’s crying.

Joel opens the folds of towels up so that she can place the flimsy warm pouch over top of the lambs side. Wrapping it up like a burrito again, he holds it up against his chest as if he was holding a baby, firmly patting and rubbing the little lump in his arms. Ellie fruitlessly tries to calm down the mother ewe but it’s no use as she continues to trot circles around Joel, weaving back and forth and trying to nose the little lump in his arms. 

He places the swaddled lamb on the ground, into the cushioned nest of shavings and straw bedding. Hovering over it on all fours, he places his palm over the swaddle again, applying pressure to the lambs back and rubbing circles, while opening its mouth with his other hand. 

“C’mon, little one, c’mon. Gimme something, c’mon. Please.” Joel leans down, his lips pressing against the towel as he murmurs.  The sound of his warm, deep voice breaking is barely muffled by the damp fabric as he squeezes his eyes shut. Another set of warm, small, clammy hands overlap his, as Ellie kneels beside him.

They huddle together over the lamb for another minute or two, the soft swishing of straw and shavings strewn about as the ewe continues pacing is the only audibly sound. Her cries for help softened to brief bleating.

Ellie intertwines her fingers with Joel, squeezing tight as she let’s out a quiet sniffle.

Then, a muffled sound. The smallest hiccup. 

“Joel.” She whispers and squeezes his hand again.

“Joel, look.”

He raises his head slowly, holding his breath as he hears the small noise again, before he carefully unwraps the swaddled material.  He cautiously rubs the lambs back again, as they watch as its bleary eyes blink open, slowly but surely.  It raises its head ever so slightly, dazed, before letting out the smallest bleat.

Choking out the breath that he had been holding in, Joel rushes to wipe around the lamb’s eyes and mouth again.  “There she is. Hey little one,” he coos at the small animal, afraid to speak above a hushed tone.

“Holy shit.” Ellie huffs in disbelief with tears in her eyes. “Dude, you fucking did it! Oh my god, look at her!”

She clutches the sleeve of Joel’s shirt, exhilarated and bouncing with adrenaline. “Do you think it’s a girl?”

Smiling to himself, he shakes his head, “not sure, but it doesn’t matter, s’long as it’s healthy. Right, little one?”  He slowly strokes the lamb as it starts bleating with more fervor, when he feels a bigger muzzle shoving his hand out of the way .

“There ya go momma, there she is.” 

He gets up, ignoring the groaning protest from his knees and steps back so that the ewe can see her baby, gesturing for Ellie to follow. 

“Here, Let’s give ‘em some space to breathe. Go grab the space heater and we’ll get ‘em nice and warm.”

Shooting to her feet, she scurries back to the supply room to retrieve the heater. Joel sits back against one of the stall walls, his head tipping back till it hits the wooden slats with a dull thunk as he takes the deepest breath he’s taken all day. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins but he feels fucking exhausted all the same. Defeated but elated, he watches the mom lick and nudge the little lamb, before a voice rings out from behind him.

“Well, well, well, looks like we got a full house in here tonight!”

Joel turns to see Dr. Joyce striding through the aisle, a bright twinkle in her eye as she stops in front of the large stall, already stretching a pair of latex gloves over her hands. 

The corners of his mouth pull up into a small smile as he nods in her direction. “Hey doc, how’s it going?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” she chuckles with warmth, shimmying around the stall door slowly. “You’ve had quite the night from what I can tell. I saw the lights on at this hour and I could only assume it had finally happened.”

Snorting, he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s one way of putting it.” He nods his chin as Ellie returns with the space heater in hand, “couldn’t have done it without this one’s help of course.” 

Ellie grins and hands the space heater to Joel. “If I’m being honest, it was probably one of the coolest and scariest things I’ve ever seen in my life. Especially when she wasn’t breathing. But it was all Joel, really. He brought her back, I just tried not to get in his way.” 

Rounding Joel’s other side, Dr. Joyce crosses the stall and crouches down and pulls out her stethoscope, winking at Ellie. “Is that so? Do I sense a future vet tech assistant that can help me with house calls?”

“Shit. Are you serious?” The teenager’s eyes nearly bug out of her head as a massive smile stretches across her face. “That would be fucking awesome!”

Joel doesn’t even have the energy to reprimand her for swearing, his mind and body drained as he snorts and shakes his head.

“Hey! Is there room for two more at this welcoming party?!” Another booming voice echoes throughout the large stone barn, similar in its Southern drawl to Joel’s but not as deep. 

Tommy and Maria round the corner with huge smiles, still in their riding clothes, fresh off the night patrol. 

“Just so long as y’all can keep quiet.” Joel grumbles, still sat leaning against the stall wall with his arms crossed, legs kicked out from underneath him. He looks over at the scene in front of him, warmth etched into his features as he watches Dr. Joyce check the lambs vitals while the ewe finally starts to munch on hay again.

“We couldn’t believe it, we had to come right away. Hell, I had half a mind to cut the patrol short when we found out.” Maria nods at Joel with a smirk. She glances over to the little sheep who has started to stand on all fours and nurse from its mom, wobbling on its nimble legs. 

“What’s the verdict Dr. Joyce?” Tommy sidles over to Joel, crouching down beside him and grinning. “All working organs? All ten fingers and ten toes?”

Joel sighs gruffly. “They’re hooves, not toes, genius. Jeez, you sure you’re expecting soon?”

Maria only smirks in response as Tommy mumbles and shoves his older brother in response. 

“Everything’s in order Joel, don’t worry.” Dr. Joyce smiles, taking one ear bud out of her ear as she continues to check the lambs pulse. “Her oxygen levels seem good, despite the rocky start and her lungs are clear of fluids, and she’s warm. You couldn’t have done a better job, really, you should be proud of yourself.”

He tries to hide his beaming smile he really does, but Joel grins. His bright eyes crinkle and his dimple pokes through his right cheek. “Thanks doc. I appreciate ya comin’ over here as soon as you could.”

“Her?” Ellie’s eyes widen as she clasps her hands together. “So it is a girl?!”

“Yup, definitely a girl.”

“Think she deserves a name, don’t you?” Tommy nudges Joel in the arm again.

Joel’s smile falters immediately. He shakes his head and looks down. “No. I don’t name ‘em, besides it’ll only be a couple of days before she’s gotta get tagged and registered in the breeding books too.”

“Oh come on Joel, please? She deserves one. After everything she’s been through…” Ellie’s voice trails off. 

Everything they had been through. She doesn’t need to say it for him to know. 

When she doesn’t keep going he looks up at her. Her eyes pleading, welling up with fragments of the pain and haunted memories that they endured over the last year.

He looks at Tommy and Maria, his eyes then falling on Dr. Joyce as she tends to the lamb. 

“Ellie’s right Joel. I know y’all don’t normally give them names, especially the young ones, but given the circumstances, this little lady oughta have a name.” The vets eyes are soft as she gives Joel a sympathetic smile. 

He’s silent for a moment, shifting his jaw. His gaze drops to the tiny lamb, white as snow, now that she’s been towel dried and cleaned, listening to her tiny bleats as she headbuts her mom for more milk. Instantly, his gaze softens, his big eyes rounding at the newborn.

New life. 

A breath of fresh air into the looming hollowness of the barn. A pulse. An electric current, melding into a comfortable, viscous, energy as Jackson’s population, well four-legged population, increases for another day. 

Sighing, he tilts his head in adoration. Filtering through the vestiges of his memory, he thinks back to the conversation that prompted this whole sheep herding fiasco. Him, Ellie, their tiny fire amongst the vast expanse of snow covered country, with nothing but the moon overhead. The comforting solace provided by its glowing illumination, letting them know they weren’t alone in their travels. 

“Well, she is a bright light, figuratively and literally,” he peeks his head out of the stall to find the moon, beaming down on the tiny settlement, before glancing down at the lamb again. 

“How does Luna sound?”

In that moment, the lamb trots over to Joel on its spindly legs, getting braver by the minutes after its birth. She bleats in his face loudly and headbutts his arm affectionately before circling back to her mom, stumbling over herself in the process.

“Well I’ll be damned, I think she likes it.” Tommy chuckles as Maria comes to stand beside him. 

Ellie snuggles up to Joel, her eyes starting to close as the evening's events catch up to her.  “It’s perfect,” she yawns and nuzzles into his broad shoulder, “our little Luna.”

Luna approaches Joel with more curiosity again, as he stretches his hand out towards her, letting her sniff and lick him. 

Despite everything that happened, the chaos, the panic, and near crisis with his first lamb birth, for the first time in a while, Joel feels whole. Fulfilled. Right where he's supposed to be, in this new world, this new life.

Rooted.

A lopsided smile stretches across his face, as his dimple pokes through his cheek. “Yeah, I suppose it is. Our little light, Luna.”

[clowncontroldev]

Field Report: Raptorian - Supplemental

Raptorians Overview

This is a supplemental document from Dr. Doppler's Field Report. Mature researchers only.

What can be said about Raptorians that hasn’t been said in works such as Mimicry and Me: So Your Voice Has Been Stolen?, Out of this World Fashion and the controversial One Flew Over The Raptorian’s Nest? Hailing from Raptoria, they entered the galactic fold a decade after the establishment of NOX and the end of the Military Age, citing “We weren’t sure about all the war, but if you’re going to relax now we’ll talk.”

While some might call the general disposition of raptorians “cocky” and “vain,” they prefer “proud” and “worth it.” Xenosapients that are easily overwhelmed by colors and loud sounds should stay clear of Raptorian territory. If that doesn’t describe you, however, it is highly recommended to visit during any of their festivals and celebrations for a rich sensory experience. As long as it isn’t Ovumtide. 

Homeworld - Raptoria

Called the gem of the Garuda system, Raptoria is a temperate planet that orbits an A-class star. Dominated by oceans, waterways, and marshes, its extreme habitats are limited to its polar ice caps and deep ocean trenches.

The planet’s rings are important to the raptorian people, not just as an awe-inspiring skymark that makes afternoon walks more pleasant, but religiously too. The predominant religion believes that the rings are remnants of the Egg Mother when she hatched from her own shell. We now know it to be the leftovers of what used to be Raptoria’s only moon. 

Colony - Raptova

Called the diamond in the rough of the Phoenix system, Raptova by contrast is an arid mono-continental planet that orbits a similar blue main sequence star as Raptoria. It’s shared with the Scorpian people who live in the inland deserts. The settlement was brokered by NOX, to allow separatist Raptorians a safe place to self-govern.

Biology

Raptorians are warm-blooded, feathered bipeds. On top of their heads are erectile feathers that act as a way to focus in on sound, like a satellite dish. Their limbs end with black scaly webbed claws, the webbing having receded as they evolved to inland life. In their thick necks is an incredibly developed syrinx that allows unparalleled mimicry. 

A selection of different raptorian phenotypes.

It’s believed that raptorians originated as coastal predators, before gradually moving inland. They retained the slight webbing between their claws and their waterproof feathers, which doubled as an important way to retain heat during the cold months, which were extreme. 

Ancient Raptoria’s weather wasn’t the only cycle that shaped raptorian evolution. An aspect that’s unique to Raptorians are their estrous cycles. While xenos that go into heat will have these cycles last a week or three, Raptorians let loose for only one night of the year. The short window to breed causes Raptorians to endure a massive influx of hormones. While not as bad as the Kovlins, who go into self-described “sex madness” when in heat, Raptorians are on the lower end of the spectrum of lucidity during their cycle. 

But why go about breeding like this? If we look at the daily life of an ancient raptorian, it becomes clearer. Half of the year an ancient raptorian had to stay clear of cyclones and lightning, and the other half blizzards and hail.  The hostile weather conditions of the past only allowed for a very narrow time of the year in which looking for mates wasn’t a death sentence. For the rest of the year they only had a limited amount of time during the day where they could safely hunt. 

But raptorians weren’t the only ones hunting. Other environmental factors such as ancient predators trying to off any competition in gathering scarce resources could have had an impact on when ancient Raptorians felt it was safe to breed. 

However, none of this explains why multiple partners are encouraged during ovumtide. Were they promiscuous? And why is their fertility rate so low? Were they shooting blanks? The answer to both of those may lie in a retrovirus that seemed to have plagued Raptorians at the time. Whatever mutations it introduced were combated by this new way of breeding and raptorian researchers believe genetic variety was the only thing that could ensure the safety of their species, and mating annually.  

And as one can expect from a species only able to have sex once a year, they party like their lives depend on it. Multiple partners are expected in what most of the galaxy calls “the largest communal orgy in the Milky Way.” The Raptorians named that night Ovumtide, and it remains their most important spiritual and social event. 

Other than the pomp and circumstance, Ovumtide has the usual mating ritual aspects, such as decorating your breeding grounds and flaunting your assets, but also includes something Raptorians hold dear even today; pageantry. 

A flume dressed for Ovumtide

Pigmentation and feather patterns can be drastically different after centuries of intercontinental movement and different habitats. Raptorians are able to change the color of their feathers either with topical dyes, or a diet focused on certain compounds, such as the carotenoids in their seafood heavy diets. Blue and pink shrimps are popular choices for their wide range of hues, and due to the effort of committing to a diet for an entire year, are considered the classier choice. For the raptorian that wants to impress a mate during Ovumtide, a concentrated effort must be put into eating a singular natural pigment, so that their coat can coordinate with their Ovumtide outfit.

And like last year's fashion, they molt their feathers once Ovumtide ends, to begin styling for next year’s festivities.

Gender

Raptorians have two genders, flume and auct, which roughly translates to egg layer and soul giver respectively. However, despite the etymology, sex has been decoupled from gender for most of Raptorian history. Sapients that hail from cultures with a male/female gender binary often make the mistake of assuming aucts are men and flumes are women, mostly due to universal translators giving them masculine and feminine pronouns. Rather, it relates to their relationship with community and society at large.

Put simply: aucts top, and flumes bottom.

A typical auct.

Raptorian society is heavily influenced by dyads. The shell and the yolk, the feather and the talon, and so on. Balance between flumes and aucts is a crucial aspect to a functioning raptorian community. 

Work is divided by “talon” and “nest” and is defined by what is being manipulated. If a physical object is manipulated then its “talon” work, like moving cargo, crafting incubators, or repairing power lines. If what’s being manipulated isn’t real, like keeping ledgers, coding programs, or reading the voltage outputs on factory machines, then it’s “nest” work. The balance of this work is meticulously maintained, and if there aren’t enough flumes, aucts will change to better help the group in nest work. Likewise, if there aren’t enough aucts, flumes will do more heavy lifting. These expectations aren’t just societal, but biological as well. 

In a form of phenotypic plasticity, a lack of aucts or flumes will cause some from the majority to undergo hormonal changes. Muscle mass is gained when filling the role of an auct, while pattern recognition and eyesight improves for those that become flumes. What triggers these changes isn’t well known, but well documented. In one case study a group of aucts were sent to a research outpost in the polar ammonia lakes.  Due to unforeseen events, the all-auct team was forced to bunker down at the outpost for a year. Half of them lost 40% of muscle mass without a negative impact on their health, and gained improved hand eye coordination. During ovumtide they were accommodating. 

Another instance of this phenomenon occurred in a production town that specialized in leather and steel crafts. The assignment computer glitched out and filled the town with primarily flumes. In a short amount of time nearly half of them traded their stored fat for a high amount of muscle bulk in their arms and chest. Ovumtide wasn’t an issue for the town residents thanks to production tool crafting access. 

Because of this biological phenomenon, Raptoria’s governments and religions believe in what the body says rather than the mind piloting it. This became the cause for the mass exodus to Raptova—the belief that gender shouldn’t exist for the purposes of society, but rather the individual. 

The separatists believed that just because someone was physically an auct didn’t mean they wanted to do manual labor all day, or fill someone during ovumtide. Some were physically flumes, but spiritually aucts, and even without the added muscle mass could help their community like any ‘Talon Man’.

An ovumarch. They have went through the muscle loss of an auct turning into a flume.

On the separatist colony world of Raptova, a third unnamed gender arose. It was reserved for the Ovumarch, the leaders and guides of this new world. They act as both auct and flume as a way to say all forms of identity were welcome, as well as a way to see from the perspective of both sides. Physically, their bodies will still undergo the changes that will occur naturally. 

WARNING: AUTHORIZATION STATUS [18+]

If you have clearance with the above security check, you can learn more about Raptorians in Dr. Doppler’s Field Report.

[its-in-the-woods]

The Woman Who Couldn’t Die Part 3

master list

Part 1 , Part 2,

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Original Character 

Alternative Universe where I make things up cause I can only research so much

Synopsis: His hands found their way to her hips, when was the last time he had looked at someone? Someone that he wasn’t trying to use, or kill. Her eyes roved over his, he kept waiting to see disgust or disinterest, instead her eyes just held his. A small smile played over her lips, as she glanced down

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning: This is based on fallout expect Canon typical: Drug use, dEath, graphic viOlence, suggestions of SA, NonCon (not by the mc) suggestions of non con bodily harm, body horror, angst, hurt/comfort, death or people and animals, ptsd, drugs and alcohol use, addiction, slow build, angst with no comfort

Note: These will be spaced out as I am heavily editing and researching them. Each chapter will be 2-3+k words. Tags will be edited based on the chapter, please make sure you read them.

Also note that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

Jade didn't expect to feel suffocated as they entered into the settlement. The place was busy, people rushed back and forth, and there was an air of uncertainty. Mutters of raiders hanging around had the men at the gates asking a lot of questions. They were almost turned away until the Ghoul had fished out a handful of caps. The guard had taken a second before snatching them and letting them in. The place was the usual, several ramshackle buildings shoved together and surrounded by piles of trash that stood as walls. People gave them both the side eyes as they moved through the different kiosks and grifters. 

The Ghoul didn’t say much just moving off towards a ramshackle pharmacy, Jade sighed at that. Guessing that their deal was now done, dead raiders or not she had only paid him to get here. The movement of people made her skin itch, too many people, too many eyes, too much of everything. She pushed back that crawling feeling that was poking at her neck. If she was gonna lose it she needed to be somewhere private, outside town. For now, she just needed to get some new clothes that actually fit.  She saw a small shop with various clothes peeking out through some dust-covered windows, the place looked mostly empty which would be a good spot to try and clear her head. 

Her heart slowed as she made her way into the buildings going through the racks of pieced-together clothing. Hoping to find something that fits a little better than her current attire. Her stomach was still knotted from her breakdown in the woods. Kill or be killed, was how she had lived most of her life, but seeing the raider beg for his life just to end it, had snapped something in her. The raider couldn’t have been out of adolescence, just a kid really, they all were just kids. Trying to somehow survive in this world. She wondered if they would have even attacked them, but they would have. The Ghoul had several rounds in his shoulder to prove that, and the raider he had skewered as he jumped out of the bush would have cut her throat just the same. Going soft over the dead would help no one. She needed to keep pushing forward or she’d end up dead. 

The woman at the front was watching her closely, as she pulled out a shirt, a pair of cargo pants, and a heavier jacket. She had managed to grab a small amount of caps from the raiders. It won’t be enough but maybe a trade could be brokered. 

“How much for these?” Jade asked, undoing her bag and putting it at her feet. The woman at the front wore a scowl as she came up to the counter. 

“Eighty caps,” The woman chewed, her eyes looking Jade over. She was slim, like most folks, skin tanned by the never-ending sun, wearing a handmade dress. 

“Could I do thirty caps and trade you some chems?” Jade asked, pulling out a few of the chems she’d snagged off the raiders. 

The woman looked over the chems in front of her, eyes narrowing at the different bottles. Lips screwed up as she assessed each vial. She held them up to the skylight above her. 

“Where you get these?” The woman prodded, standing back and putting her hand under the counter. 

Jade backed up immediately, only grabbing her bag and putting it in front of her like a makeshift shield. Hand resting on her pistol behind the bag, she wasn’t the quickest draw but she wasn’t gonna let scrawny get her without a fight. 

“There were raiders outside the town, just took care of them. Scounged what I could, like anyone else,” She swallowed eyes looking at the vials of chems still on the counter. As the women twitched staring daggers at Jade. 

A familiar click sounded and Jade turned to see the Ghoul standing there with his gun pointed at the woman. His face was tight underneath the wide brim of his hat. His clothes fluttered around him as he stood there like something out of one of the old West novels Jade used to read. 

“The girl was just doin’ what we all doin’,” He said, moving around to grab the vials of chems off the counter. “You don’t like her deal, just say so.”

The woman moved slowly, putting both hands on the counter, her eyes wide as she watched the Ghoul move. Her hands shook slightly as she looked over the man. 

“Just had a lot of raiders around Ghoul. Don’t need my shop known for dealin’ with unsavory characters, such as yaself,'' She sputtered, “If the girl wants the clothes I will trade her what she offered.”

The Ghoul turned to Jade who had backed up even further, nodding his head at the women. The younger woman moved to drop the caps on the counter, turning to take the chems back from the Ghoul. She placed those down and grabbed the pieces of clothing.

“Thank you, for the trade,” Jade said briskly, turning to make sure the Ghoul was following her out of the building. His gun was still pointed at the cashier as he moved through the doorway, the way he moved was more cat-like. Fluid, quiet, and with ease. 

Outside the Ghoul grabs Jade’s shoulder and spins her around as she tries to move away. She stifled a squawk looking at his face, a hardened mask, eyes searching over her, was he looking to see if she was okay?

“Figured you’d have ditched me by now,” Jade said quickly, tucking her clothes into her bag and placing it back onto her back. Looking around to make sure no one else was gunning for them. A cold weight pressed against her stomach. 

The Ghoul sighed, turning away from her, “You’re welcome too, Pips-squeak.”

“I am going to go see if there is any work, maybe make enough to get a room,” The woman stated before walking towards the building with painted INN on the front. Underneath the awning was a board with several dozen sheets of paper pinned to it. 

Stopping, she was surprised to feel the Ghoul stop a few feet from her, “I can’t pay you anymore, the last of my caps were used for the clothes.”  The words felt bitter against her tongue, despite only knowing the man for three days, she had grown fond of him. They worked well together if the Raider incident was any indication, but she was certain that they’d be going their separate ways here.

“Ya, tryin’ to get rid of me, tiny?” The Ghoul chuckled, “Pretty sure you’d be radrat bait if I hadn’t walk’d in there.” 

“Just figured the contract was up,” She licked her lips, eyes scanning the flyers. Not much was actually sinking in, Jade had very little knowledge of how any of this worked. 

“Said ya wanted to be a bounty hunter.” The man said casually, Jade could see from the corner of her eye that he was staring at her. 

Jade turned, her hands tucking around the straps of her backpack as she looked at him. That prey feeling washed over her, “Yeah I did. What are you suggesting?”

The crooked smile came across his face, which made her stomach flutter, “Why not let me teach ya? Best bounty hunt’r around.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, moving slightly closer to him. “The best for now.” Trying to hold his eye contact and not let the fear and sudden arousal eat at her. 

He let out a short laugh, grabbing a flier off the wall. “Come on, got some roaches to kill.”

***

The Ghoul rests against a tree trying to wipe his face of the green guts from the radroach. Jade wasn't far from him flicking her hands of the viscous liquid. Stuff was everywhere and on everything, thicker than molasses on a cold day.  

They had traveled for a day to get to the farm, the farmer had been a bit too welcoming for his liking. Something about him was shifty, that and the fact there seemed to be no one else on the farm. That said he did give them half the caps before they even went to look for the roaches. It took an additional three days of searching to finally find the den, which ended up being much more than a den. It was a hive.

Both of them had run out of ammo, instead moving to machetes to cut and slaughter the never-ending swarm of beasts. Jade had got cut up several times. Nothing that stitches and stimpak won't fix, but it had made his heart clench to see the girl covered in both green and red blood. If she had died it would have made the whole thing much trickier, at least that’s what he told himself. They had managed to get all the way to the queen. A fat rotund thing that never stopped howling. Jade had climbed over the piles of dead bodies and decapitated the thing as Ghoul continued to fend off the last of the swarm. The woman had looked triumphant holding the things head in her hand, like some kind of warrior Queen.

Now out of the cave system, the Ghoul was unsuccessfully trying to get the slim off his face. It was becoming clear that some of the goop had gotten into his nose hole. It wasn’t the first time stuff had gotten up there, unfortunately he was fresh out of cotton swabs. 

“Fuck,” He growled, pulling his gloves off with his teeth and slapping them on the ground.

“What’s up?” Jade said coming over and plunking her bag down, the queen’s head strung up in a tree. Didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to the thing, plus it was proof they’d done their job. 

The Ghoul felt around the edges of the cavity trying to figure out if he could dig the sludge out. Letting out a frustrated sigh, knowing his fingers would do more damage than good. He leaned forward and tried to shake it free but nothing came out.

“Do you have roach guts in your nose cavity?” The girl said, with a small chuckle as she diug around in her bag, and pulled out some cotton swabs.

He tried to wave her away, “It’ll come out on its own.” 

“Oh hush, and hold still,” She said, grabbing his chin to look at her. Her hands worked skillfully to remove his hat so she could see what she was doing. The fading daylight is just enough for her to see into his nose cavity. 

He froze, despite the number of scars she had. Her hands were soft, her grip on his chin firm as she tipped his head more to see what she was working with. He hadn’t been this close to her before, her eyes weren’t just brown. But brown with shots of green through them, her face mostly unmarred by the abuse she had suffered. Her hair slicked back into a ponytail full of roach guts. Her fingers worked quickly as she used the swab to scoop out some goop. He squirmed slightly, it was not painful but an uncomfortable feeling

“Shit, did that hurt?” Jade asked shifting so that she was nearly sitting in his lap.

The Ghoul just shook his head, he could feel how warm her body was. The way her thighs rested against his, her body almost pressing against his chest. His heart was pounding so loud he thought she’d be able to hear it. The Ghoul could hear her heart beating. Her hand loosened its grip on his chin and moved to rest on his shoulder.

“Almost got it, there is a little more, just hold on.” She whispered skillfully, grabbing another swab and inserting it carefully, he felt it brush inside his nose. Making him feel like he might sneeze for the first time since losing his nose. She pulled it out and flicked off the goop into the bush. She turned back and looked at him. 

He couldn’t help looking up at her, her features were so soft and delicate. His hands found their way to her hips, when was the last time he had looked at someone? Someone that he wasn’t trying to use, or kill. Her eyes roved over his, he kept waiting to see disgust or disinterest, instead her eyes just held his. A small smile played over her lips, as she glanced down at his lips. Leaning in to kiss him. 

His heart rate shot up as he felt her push her lips against his, mouth opening to lick across them. His hands gripped onto her hips as her hands gripped against his shoulders. Mind going bank as he pushed her off of him. He stood up, this was not happening, walking away from her.

“Wait. Stop” Jade shouted after him, but he kept moving forward away from her.

His mind was ablaze, he hadn’t kissed someone in years. A flash of a memory, the bombs dropping, holding Janey on Sugarfoot as they rode away. Her face as she screamed in the arms of soldiers dragged her away. Look on his wife’s smug face as they drove away. The moment he shot Sugarfoot because the animal was starving. His skin blistered in the neverending sun, and watching as his body changed, every time he got a cut or nick it would gnarl and twist. The look on a soldier's face when he came looking for help. The first taste of radaway, med-x, rad-x, and a laundry list of other drugs. The first time he had to kill someone just to eat. The first time he saw himself in a mirror, his nose sloughing off, skin a dirty meaty red. Begging for help and being shunned away. Called a monster, a creature, a zombie, a killer, a murderer. A Ghoul. He was a Ghoul. The word echoed around in his head like a bell chime.

His lungs were screaming and he dug around his duster pockets pulling out the inhaler. He pushed it into his mouth taking a shot back. His eyes rolled into his head as his brain went foggy before he collapsed onto the ground. His hands dug into the soil, the feel of soil under his fingertips. The sound of birds moving in the trees, bugs buzzing. He focuses on that, on the numbing sensation spreading from his lungs out. Coughing and spurting he pushed himself onto his feet, leaning heavily on a tree, mind finally quiet. He took two more puffs before the numbest finally stamped out the fire of the memories. 

***

Jade watched him stumble away, her ass in the dirt baffled at what had just transpired. It was just a kiss, and here he was acting like she had asked him to fuck her. She spat some bug guts that had fallen from her hair, out of her mouth. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, before pushing herself up and off the ground. They had spent over a week living out of each other's pockets, it wasn’t like he was a bad-looking man. He was better looking than ninety percent of the men around this hellhole. Just cause he was a Ghoul didn’t mean she wasn’t attracted to him. She sighed going over to his bags to find a needle and thread, she’d needed to at least try and stitch herself up. The one on her left wouldn’t be too bad, but the cut that went across her back would have to wait. 

She grumbled biting into a piece of stick as she sewed it up, her teeth clenching as the needle pulled in and out of her skin. Done, she grabbed a stimpak and jabbed it in with a small sigh as it numbed the pain. If the Ghoul ever came back she’d ask him to look at the other wounds. She cleaned the needle and tucked it back into his bag. 

Her mind wandered over the day, the week. The unavoidable haze that was before that. Stomach knotting as she looked around the empty forest. It was mostly blank, she remembered some stuff and saw some of the marks on her. Luckily the stimpaks and whatever else they fed her had kept her body mostly intact. Even the places below the belt, how that whole area was okay was beyond her. The memory of the first time she had let herself feel down there flooded in.

One night while they were looking for the roaches, she disappeared to go pee. Had taken a moment to actually feel around there, something she had been terrified to do since she had left the outpost. Expecting to find scaring, tears, and more damage, but there wasn’t much. There were dozens of scars on her thighs, ass cheeks, two scars that had actually slit down each side of her cheek. Even so, maybe one day she’d be able to enjoy that part of herself again. One day, but that wasn’t something she’d really been concerned about till tonight. 

Letting out a sigh she rubbed at the back of her neck where that tingling feeling still lay. That tingling feeling had spread and overwhelmed her when she had shot the Raider kid. It was always there, trauma, suppressed memories, things trying to crawl towards the surface. 

“No, Nope, we aren’t doing that Jade,” She said out loud to the forest, “We are here right now. We are okay. We are okay. Just killed a bunch of radroaches, and got enough caps to get a bed for the night. Ghoul will come back, no way he’d leave his bag here. The bag means more to him than anything. Also the hat, the bastard would melt without his hat.”

Jade takes a few deep breaths, bringing up good memories. Looking after the calves on the farm, bartending at the Lazy Susan, the way the forest sounded, killing radroaches. She imprints those memories at the forefront. Focusing her mind to push everything back into the hole it had popped itself out of. 

“Anything else doesn’t matter, we just keep going. We got this.” Jade says finally, shaking her arms and hands. Letting the feelings flow out of her like dust behind her. 

The sun had started to set, as much as she wanted to light a fire it would be too dangerous alone. Grabbing her jacket she slipped it on, the cut on her back stung, she’d have to deal with that later. Instead, she gathered up their things and moved herself more central to the clearing. She also took a moment to cut down the head of the Queen. Grabbing some rope and tying it to the bag for easy pickup. 

Briefly wondered if she should try to climb a tree to camp out overnight. Most of the trees around her were too small or didn’t have low enough branches to climb. The center of the clearing would be safest, and hopefully. the Ghoul would be back soon. Asshole anyway, Jade felt resentment at the fact she had let herself rely on him. Even with his gruff lone wolf bullshit attitude, something under that hard shell had made her feel safe.

As if he had heard her, the man sauntered through the forest, his marred features evident in the rising moon. He walked right up to her without a word snatching his hat off the bags and tipping it back onto his smooth head. He didn’t say a word, as he re-gloved his fingers and shouldered the bag. Before starting to walk off in the direction of the farm.

Jade huffed but packed up, and followed after him. Muttering to herself about him being a giant dickhead, she struggled to keep up with his pace. Her body ached from the various wounds that rub as she moved.

part four

*If you enjoy the story let me know! It keeps me writing!

*Want to be on the tag list le me know below

*more to come, this is fully plotted just a lot of editing and additions..

*Find me on AO3 here

[fairuzfan]

Genuinely curious, because I've seen some people say that one should vote biden because if you vote for trump or desantis their stance on the ongoing genocide and other matters would actually be worse than what we're contending with, and I have no true frame of reference: do you think that's actually true or a likely possibility?

I'm of the opinion that it really doesn't matter who we vote for anyways, the outcomes will still be the same. Biden is enabling 4 different genocides/ethnic cleansing (Palestine, Congo, Armenia, Sudan) and honestly, I don't see how it can get any worse.

They often make the argument that things will happen *here* that is dangerous but speaking as someone who has lived in a very Red state my entire life, it has never been safe or welcoming for me to begin with, along with others who have similar identities to me. Not to mention that bad things have already happened here under Biden, with the Abortion ban, book bans, and ban on critical race theory being taught in schools.

Trump is not great, like I don't want him to win either. He was the person who moved the Israeli embassy to Jerusalem and it was seen as a political slap to the face to Palestinians (click). Don't get me wrong they're both piles of shit. But I refuse to elect people into office that let such flagrantly terrible things happen in the world. These people have no oversight in their actions, are free to do what they want, and no manner of "democratic" intervention will stop them from doing the things they want, especially when they're afraid of losing funding for going against major lobbying organizations like CUFI and AIPAC.

This isn't the first time Biden ignored Palestinians in this term. Remember in 2021 with the settlements in Shiekh Jarrah? He didn't say a word condemning Israel for their forced displacement and their bombardment of Gaza (click). Sure the Abraham Accords sucked and that was brokered by Trump, but Biden could have undone that. He didn't. He just re-approved aid to Palestinians (which, who cares when they're under occupation? No amount of aid will help them attain liberation). Palestinians don't want aid — they want America to stop funding the Zionist Entity.

Everyone in Palestine already knows that the Israel's biggest supporter, America, is also their biggest funder. If they just stopped funding, everything would be cut in half. There is no way the Zionist entity would be able to sustain itself. Even now, their economy is failing because they relied on Palestinians for much of their cheap labor. They cannot support themselves without USAmerica's direct intervention.

I am of the opinion that we should organize to change the way our government operates or else things like these will keep happening. It does not help anyone but the ultrarich and the people in power. Things like Cop City and the genocide in Congo and Sudan and Armenia only happen because the US has a vested monetary interest in oppressing them. This will not change between presidents. Biden will just be quieter about it.

I don't know how to organize stuff like this, or where to go to organize, but if we keep playing in the system they laid out where they always win, then there's no way anything can change.

[ex-textura]

oh boy! Thank you @miradelletarot for the tag! This is going to be fun (once i decide who to do it with sdfasklfhjs)

I'm unsure who has done this one and who hasn't soooo.... if you see this, and want to, this is me tagging you!

BASICS

Full name: Ilztaufein (formerly of house Melarn, though he dropped that when he changed his name)

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: Bi, but he's got some...hangups about women.

Background: Noble

Class: Divination Wizard

OTHER

Birthplace: Ched Nasad

Profession: Information broker for Bregan D'aerthe

Phobias: Not really a phobia, but he has a hate for spiders.

Guilty pleasures: Does it count if he's not guilty about anything ever? He loves gossip and is really bad for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. He also loves really bad smutty fiction.

Hobbies: Reading, studying, gossiping.

MORALS

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Sins: ahahahahaha. All of them!? ▫ He's prideful (he knows he's gorgeous and he knows he's powerful, even if maybe he thinks he's hotter shit than he actually is) ▫ He's greedy (power, people, fame, money. Whatever it is, he wants it) ▫ He's not the most wrathful but WHEN HE GETS HIS HANDS ON MYSTRA ISTG (also he's a big bitch about it) ▫ He's envious of the gods, for hoarding all their power. He's envious of drow women and their power over the underdark. He's envious of Mystra for still having literally ANY of Gale's attention EVER. ▫ Lust. I mean. The fantasies of Gale alone would be damning but when he finally gets his hands on his powerful little human oh my god. He's not terribly gluttonous or slothful but that's mostly on account of all the vanity.

Virtues: All that said, he's not evil. He helps people who need it, he works for the greater good at the end of the day. He gives freely of his time and knowledge (even if okay sometimes he bitches a little about having to go out of his way he's working on it okay?). He works hard, he studies and practices and hones his skills daily, he's fastidiously clean, he's absolutely loyal to a fault and he loves fully.

THIS OR THAT

Introvert / Extrovert

Organized / Disorganized

Close-minded / Open-minded

Calm / Anxious / Restless

Disagreeable / Agreeable / In between

Cautious / Reckless / In between

Patient / Impatient / In between

Outspoken / Reserved / In between

Leader / Follower / Flexible

Empathetic / Unempathetic / In between

Optimist / Pessimist / Realist

Traditional / Modern / In between

Hard-working / Lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

OTP: Ilztaufein/Gale (gotta come up with ship names)

Acceptable Ships: He's desperately loyal to Gale. He worships the ground he walks on. That said, he has slept with Astarion.

OT3: n/a

Brotp: Izzy and Astarion and two peas in a pod, even if Ilztaufein gives him so much shit for his red eyes and white hair ("Little faerie thinks he's a mighty drow how quaint~!").

Notp: Absolutely not Mystra, nor any followers of lolth.

BACKSTORY

Ilztaufein was born in Ched Nasad and spent the first half century of his life there before it fell to ruin. There he studied to be a wizard and took to divination magic like a fish to water. It was during his studies that he got a vision of the destruction of Ched Nasad, and so to save his own skin he quietly ran before he could be caught in the crossfire. He spent some time travelling the underdark, changing his name and hiding from settlements for fear of being found out and killed for his cowardice, until he came upon and was recruited into Bregan D'aerthe. Shortly after joining the mercenary group he ventured to the surface for the first time and was absolutely blown away by the different peoples and cultures he found there. He tentatively began to learn about Eilistraee, and though he never became a true devout follower it helped him come to terms with his animosity toward more lolth-leaning drow. He learned more surface languages, started enjoying their food and music, and eventually got himself a more permanent position gathering and trading information to and from the surface. That's when he was captured by the illithid; on the surface, haggling with a food vendor on the side of the road just outside Waterdeep.

At first, the abduction was a horrible inconvenience. He had work to do and no interest in making friends with a bunch of (scary powerful) women, a goody-two-shoes hero and some fop of a surface elf. At least there was the wizard, a kindred spirit who understood the importance of a strong mind and lively debate. And ambition.

[offrikter]

this post is written to give some kind of sense of direction when plotting out dynamics. feel free to let me know if you're interested in any. 🫶🏼

the following connections can be taken by any character already established in the group or a new one.

a character who is attempting to convince rikter to give up his raider lifestyle.

a character who left the raiding life, but often finds them missing it and rikters leadership and the other relationships they formed.

a character who left the raiding life but doesn't miss it at all, but misses rikter and the other relationships they formed.

the diplomat. a survivor who travels between different settlements, brokering deals and establishing alliances. they see the raider boss as a potential ally, offering to connect them with other communities in exchange for favors and support. can be from any group besides the raiders.

former almost victim, witnessed their family being killed by raiders, a group led by rikter.

debt. they might owe a debt to the raider boss, either for protection previously provided or for a favor granted, and must now comply with their demands.

debt part II, rikter owes a favor to them for saving his life at one point when he's injured, wanting this to be an older character, 30+

more pending.

the following connections are roles I'd like to see interacting within his group of raiders or in the group, and are not formal connections.

anyone (any faceclaims), ages 26-45, that he would've met in his former life within a military setting, i.e. deployment, military bases, ptsd therapy groups. no cap really.

more raiders, little bit biased. example roles, including but not limited to: weapons cache guards, someone who dabbles in "cooking", within his small circle of trusted, questioning his leadership- thinking he's too soft sometimes, those who will defend him when he's not around, those he has rescued and taken in on their supply/pillaging runs.

his little spies/thieves on the inside of each of the other settlements. those who are unwaveringly loyal.

captured survivor. (apply as raider for this one lol) who possesses valuable information or skills (e.g., medical knowledge, scavenging expertise). rikter struggles with their own morals while trying to decide whether to exploit this survivor or find a way to genuinely cooperate with them.

moral compass. a raider who has become a pacifist or healer, representing a stark contrast to the violent lifestyle of the raiders. this individual often confronts rikter about ethical choices, forcing rikter to reflect on their actions and the repercussions it has on others. women preferred, has potential to be romantic.

the loyal enforcer. they admire the boss's ruthlessness and efficiency. they are willing to do whatever it takes to protect rikter, often carrying out the more violent tasks.

new recruit, not to be confused with under his wing. naive survivor who idolizes rikter. is fresh to the raiding life and views rikter as a hero. rikter uses them for his enthusiasm, but secretly worries the young recruit will become a liability. ultimately, rikter feels conflicted about leading them down a darker path.

"zombie" researcher, who has turned their focus on understanding the undead. their research allows them to exploit zombie behavior for raids.

the fixer. a skilled tinkerer who modifies weapons and creates custom gear for the raider boss. they provide a competitive edge, building powerful weapons and traps to ensure dominance in the wasteland.

the refugee. fleeing their shattered settlement, their family and friends or whole settlement lost to the infection. they heard of rikters’s relentless justice, his merciless extermination of the infected. they sought his protection, hoping to find a safe haven in his territory, hoping he could provide them with a semblance of order in the chaos.

inter-settlement conflict characters. raiders who compete for the raider boss's favor or working to overthrow him, leading to sabotage, raids, and bloodshed.

like a man has needs too (;

more pending.

the following are formal connections I've sent into the main.

RIKTER HOFFMAN  (  JENSEN ACKLES  )  is  looking  for  their  "UNDER HIS WING",  have  you  seen  them  ?  apparently  they  look  a  little  bit  like  ANY FACECLAIM, POC PREFERRED,  and  are  around  the  age  of  25-29.  all  i  know  is  IN THE EVENT OF THE LOSS OF HIM AND HIS RAIDER VETERANS, RIKTER APPOINTED AN INFORMAL ROLE TO SOMEONE, NOT THAT HE THINKS IT'LL HAPPEN ANY TIME SOON BUT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE PREPARED. CONSIDERING EITHER NEW TO RAIDING AND RIKTER IS SHOWING THEM AND GUIDING THEM. THIS IS A PLATONIC ROLE.  if  you  see  them,  you  CAN  /  DON'T HAVE TO  contact  TAZ  at  OFFRIKTER.

RIKTER HOFFMAN  (  JENSEN ACKLES  )  is  looking  for  their  FORMER UNTOUCHABLE,  have  you  seen  them  ?  apparently  they  look  a  little  bit  like  ADRIA ARJONA,  and  are  around  the  age  of  38-40.  all  i  know  is  THIS CONNECTION FOLLOWS A WOMAN WHO RIKTER WOULD'VE HAD RELATIONS WITH IF HE HADN'T BEEN MARRIED AT THE TIME. SHE WOULD KNOW OF HIS PREVIOUS LIFE AND NAME WHICH IS STILL TBA. MET HIM WHILE HE WAS DRIVING A TRUCK ROUTE. CAN BE A RAIDER OR NOT, THIS HAS POTENTIAL TO BE ROMANTIC.  if  you  see  them,  you  HAVE TO just so we can mesh well  contact  TAZ  at  OFFRIKTER.

RIKTER HOFFMAN  (  JENSEN ACKLES  )  is  looking  for  their  FORMER SQUAD/MILITARY MEMBER,  have  you  seen  them  ?  apparently  they  look  a  little  bit  like  ANY FACECLAIM, MALE PREFERRED,  and  are  around  the  age  of  38-45.  all  i  know  is  THIS IS A PERSON WHO SERVED WITH RIKTER ON NUMEROUS OCCATIONS, NATIONAL GUARD IS PREFERRED BUT, ARMY, NAVY SEALS, MARINES, CIA, ANY BRANCH THAT MAKES SENSE CAN WORK TOO. THEY HAD A SEMI-FLIRTY RELATIONSHIP BUT NOTHING EVER BECAME OF IT. HE/THEY CAN BE A RAIDER OR NOT, MIGHT HAVE MORE CONFLICT IF THEY'RE NOT FOR "DRAMA" WILL THEY WON'T THEY, TENSION CONNECTION  if  you  see  them,  you  CAN / DON'T HAVE TO  contact  TAZ  at  OFFRIKTER.

RIKTER HOFFMAN  (  JENSEN ACKLES  )  is  looking  for  their  HAUNTING MEMORY,  have  you  seen  them  ?  apparently  they  look  a  little  bit  like  ANY FEMALE FACECLAIM, THAT LOOKS LIKE THEY COULD BE RELATED TO JENSEN,  and  are  around  the  age  of  21-23.  all  i  know  is  THIS YOUNG WOMAN REMINDS RIKTER OF HIS DAUGHTER WHOM HE LOST. SHE WOULD BE VERY CLOSE IN AGE TO HIS DAUGHTER IF SHE SURVIVED AND WAS WITH HIM NOW. BACKSTORY AND SUCH IS ALL UTP. SHE'LL BE PRETTY RECEPTIVE TO IT. THIS IS A PLATONIC ROLE.  if  you  see  them,  you  DON'T HAVE TO  contact  TAZ  at  OFFRIKTER.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Peter Juul

Published: Nov 28, 2023

More than twenty years ago, the philosopher Michael Walzer famously asked whether or not there could be a “decent left.” After seeing the left’s reaction to the heinous October 7 terrorist atrocities in Israel, the answer is clearly no, there is no decent left—and we shouldn’t expect one to come into being any time soon.

It seemed that this indecent left had gone into remission with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Outside a subset of inveterate anti-American ideologues, it was left to self-proclaimed realists to make the case for letting Moscow’s aggression against Ukraine stand—or, failing that, negotiate a settlement that would reward the Kremlin with chunks of Ukrainian territory. Indeed, a number of individuals affiliated with the so-called “restraint” school of foreign policy disassociated themselves from their erstwhile comrades while Democratic political leaders brutally smacked down half-baked calls from progressives to negotiate away Ukrainian sovereignty on terms favorable to Vladimir Putin.

But the indecent left roared back to life with a vengeance almost immediately after October 7, excusing and “contextualizing”—and sometimes outright denying—deliberate mass murder, rape, and kidnapping of ordinary Israeli civilians and foreigners. Outright anti-Semitism permeated the indecent left’s reaction to the Hamas terror attacks from the start, with a number of left-wing activists, academics, and intellectuals alike either celebrating or apologizing for the pogrom as soon as it occurred. At best, the left issued impotent calls for an immediate ceasefire that amounted to demands that Israel do nothing after 1,200 of its citizens were brutally massacred and another 240 or so taken hostage by Hamas and its allies.

If anything, the pathologies Walzer described two decades ago have only gotten worse. This is not a political movement that wants to think seriously or coherently about the war between Israel and Hamas or foreign policy and armed conflict more generally; as Walzer wrote twenty years ago, “ideologically primed leftists were likely to think that they already understood whatever needed to be understood.” An epidemic of denial has characterized the indecent left’s response to October 7, one marked by three great refusals.

A refusal to deal with the problem at hand: what to do about Hamas?

Many ceasefire calls mean well: ordinary people are understandably appalled by the death and destruction and quite reasonably just want it to stop. While this humanitarian sentiment is commendable, it fails to address the question at the heart of the current conflict: what to do about Hamas in the wake of October 7? Other much-touted ceasefire calls from politicians like Sen. Jeff Merkley (D-OR) essentially amount to terms of surrender for Hamas—immediate release of all hostages, giving up arms, and relinquishing control over Gaza. Likewise, the hostage release deal the Biden administration and Middle East partners brokered between Israel and Hamas only temporarily pauses the fighting.

Most immediate ceasefire calls coming from the indecent left essentially call for Israel to do nothing in response to October 7. Occasionally they come with provisions requiring Hamas release the hostages it took during its attack, but typically they amount to demands for a unilateral Israeli ceasefire without any explicit reciprocity from Hamas to, say, stop firing rockets into Israeli cities. Worse, they fail to take into account repeated threats by Hamas leaders to carry out October 7-style pogroms over and over again, much less the terrorist group’s long-standing, recently restated objective of destroying Israel itself. Since October 7, it’s obvious that many on the indecent left would have no problem with that outcome.

When asked what Israel—or America and the world at large—should do about Hamas after the cruelty of October 7, the indecent left’s repeated calls for an immediate ceasefire make clear that its answer is, at best, “nothing.” There may not be any good answers to this question, but “nothing” remains a grossly inadequate response.

A neo-Orientalist refusal to take either Palestinians or Israelis seriously

By and large, the indecent left has also demonstrated a remarkable lack of curiosity about either Palestinian or Israeli society and politics. It’s part and parcel of what TLP’s Brian Katulis dubbed neo-Orientalism: the use of nations and people overseas as props in America’s own domestic political debates. In particular, the indecent left spouts simplistic slogans while it professes “great concern and sympathy for the people of the region, while remaining largely indifferent to the diversity of backgrounds and perspectives within particular countries and societies.” That’s especially acute when it comes to discussions of Israel and the Palestinians, where the indecent left attempts to force the conflict into its own parochial ideological frameworks of “decolonization,” “white supremacy,” and “systemic racism.”

In other words, the indecent left thinks it already knows everything it needs to know about any given conflict—and especially any conflict that involves Israel. While “decolonization” provides the indecent left with a marginally coherent ideological framework, it amounts to little more than a “historically nonsensical” but nonetheless toxic stew of Soviet-era propaganda, half-baked academic theories, and contemporary identity politics. That includes the vogue to blame anything and everything on a mystical, all-pervasive white supremacy of which Israeli Jews somehow bizarrely partake. Why should the indecent left engage with the particularities of Palestinian politics or even give so much as a second glance to Israeli society when its ideology already gives it all the answers it needs?

As a result, the indecent left engages very little with actual Palestinian politics and society. It refuses to grant Palestinians any real agency and therefore refuses to acknowledge any real politics among Palestinians themselves, much less the fact that Hamas has repeatedly put forward an openly genocidal program or that it violently suppresses dissent among the Palestinians under its authority. Instead, many on the left fantasize about a single binational state in what was once the British Mandate of Palestine—something few Palestinians actually favor. Other leftists endorse slogans calling for a single Palestinian Arab state, but either way few of them actually delve into the complex power dynamics within Palestinian society—including those factions that don’t respect the basic rights and freedoms of a wide range of people.

If indecent leftists generally fail to engage with Palestinian politics and society in any meaningful way, they actively avoid any sort of real engagement with—or even understanding—of Israeli society and politics. At best, the indecent left ignores Israeli society and politics; at worst, it views Israeli society as somehow counterfeit. Other segments of the indecent left, especially in academia, actively discourage any engagement with Israelis and Israeli institutions. With zero understanding of Israeli society and politics, it cannot understand Israeli fears or motivations in any real way. The indecent left doesn’t know anything about Israeli society, and it doesn’t want to know anything about it.

A refusal to make elementary—if difficult—moral and ethical distinctions

In its rhetoric and analysis of the war between Israel and Hamas, the indecent left frequently equates the deliberate and premeditated murder, rape, and kidnapping of ordinary civilians with the inadvertent and unintentional deaths of civilians in what appear to be otherwise legitimate and legal military operations. Here as elsewhere, the left refuses to make what Walzer calls “one of the most basic and best understood moral distinctions: between premeditated murder and unintended killing.” At some fundamental level, many on the indecent left understand this distinction—as seen by the strenuous effort to portray just about any and every Israeli military action as unlawful and illegitimate by definition.

It may well be the case that the Israeli military has played fast and loose with the laws of war or committed war crimes in its war against Hamas. The sheer amount of ordnance dropped on Gaza between October 7 and the start of the Israeli ground offensive roughly three weeks later remains stunning—but it’s not necessarily illegal. It’s entirely legitimate and very much appropriate to question how well or how seriously the Israeli military takes its obligations to protect civilians, but as Walzer points out it’s impossible for any military to fight a war without putting civilians at risk. The Israeli military can and should probably do a better job protecting civilians, but it’s unrealistic to expect any war to end with zero civilian casualties.

By contrast, the indecent left remains either silent or in denial about blatant Hamas war crimes. It’s been an open secret for well over a decade that Hamas uses hospitals, schools, mosques, and other protected civilian buildings and facilities as command centers and bases for operations against Israel; sources ranging from the New York Times and PBS to non-governmental organizations typically unsympathetic to Israel like Amnesty International and even UNRWA attest to this fact. It’s not surprising to see the maze of tunnels uncovered beneath the Shifa hospital complex, nor is it shocking to see that Hamas brought hostages seized on October 7 to this medical facility. These Hamas abuses don’t even cover the deliberate and premeditated targeting of civilians for murder and rape on October 7 itself.

Then there’s the moral equivalence many on the indecent left have drawn between Israeli hostages held by Hamas and Palestinians jailed by Israel. There are many flaws and abuses in the way Israel treats detained Palestinians (particularly in East Jerusalem and the West Bank), but it’s hard to know what drives people to try and establish a moral equivalence between a four-year-old abducted by Hamas after terrorists killed her parents and a failed car bomber. However, that’s typical of an indecent left that tears down posters of hostages held by Hamas after October 7.

In its failure to make difficult but necessary moral distinctions, the indecent left contributes in its own way to the erosion of both the laws of war and the idea of crimes against humanity. It diminishes the force of both while giving the perpetrators of actual war crimes and atrocities effective political and moral cover. If there are no relevant distinctions between legal and legitimate actions in war and illegal and illegitimate ones—much less between legal and legitimate military operations and deliberate atrocities like October 7—it simply makes war even more brutal and appalling crimes against humanity more likely.

* * *

The pathologies of the indecent left burst out into the open once again after October 7, but they’ve been present in large swathes of the left for decades now. It’s difficult to escape the conclusion that these pathologies are inherent to and embedded in the left, and that no amount of argumentation or persuasion will eliminate or mitigate them. There are many decent leftists, but there is no decent left.

What should liberals and decent leftists do, then?

First, recognize that the indecent left is not your friend in any way, shape, or form. Indeed, the indecent left sees liberals and decent leftists—not conservatives or right-wing populists—as its primary adversaries. Even when there are ostensible areas of agreement, the underlying analysis and motivations and goals of the indecent left stand at odds with those of the broader center-left. It may not seem like much, but it’s important for mainstream liberals and decent leftists to understand this basic fact.

As a corollary, it’s important to note that the indecent left remains a small faction in American politics—it’s a paper tiger that garners excessive attention through activity on social media platforms and destructive political tactics. Different polls use different definitions and give different results, but the “progressive left” amounted to just six percent of the population in a 2021 Pew poll and eight percent in the 2018 Hidden Tribes poll.

Next, quarantine the indecent left. Much as mainstream liberals and decent leftists did in the late 1940s, today’s liberals and decent leftists must establish intellectual and political firewalls against the indecent left. That’s easier said than done, especially given the structure of contemporary center-left politics; unions and political parties that once filtered out bad-faith actors and indecent politics have weakened enormously in the intervening decades. Many of the same problems that plague domestic politics—an overreliance on college-educated professionals from foundation-funded non-profit institutions to staff government offices and agencies, for instance—likewise make it more difficult to combat indecent leftists on foreign policy.

Finally, liberals and the decent left need to articulate their own vision of foreign policy. The Biden administration and others on the mainstream center-left have been slowly groping their way toward this vision, particularly after the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. But liberals and the decent left need to accelerate their own efforts to establish a foreign policy that stands in opposition not only to the indecent left but the isolationist America First right and the technocratic approach of the post-Cold War era. It’s an urgent task that can no longer be postponed.

Liberals and decent leftists did it once before, albeit under vastly different circumstances. But that should give us hope that we can do it again today.

[dragonagekeeper]

Nature of the Beast Polls

Dragon Age Origins Polls

See quest and choice descriptions from the Dragon Age Wiki/Keep below

Many centuries before the Fifth Blight, a tribe of humans dwelt near the Brecilian Forest; when Zathrian's clan passed near to their settlement, his children were captured by a group of humans. They tortured and murdered his son, then SAed his daughter and left her for dead in the forest. The Dalish rescued her, but when his daughter found out that she was pregnant, she committed suicide in shame. Mad with grief and hate, and wanting to exact revenge for what the humans did to his family, Zathrian summoned the Spirit of the Forest and bound it to the body of a wolf, creating the monster known as Witherfang. Witherfang, turned loose by Zathrian, slaughtered most of the humans and left the survivors infected with lycanthropy. This is what created the curse that now infects his people. The Lady of the Forest asks the Warden to bring Zathrian to her to ask for his assistance to end the curse, as the ones responsible for the deaths of his children are long dead. She knows that Zathrian used his own blood to create the curse and because of this, his long-lived life continues as long as the curse does. Regardless, The Lady hopes he will show mercy.

Brokered Peace

The werewolves were cured of their decades-long curse, and the Dalish joined the Warden's forces against the Blight.

2. Sided with the Werewolves

Swayed by the pleas of the Lady of the Forest, the Warden eliminated the Dalish and gained the werewolves as allies.

3. Sided with the elves

The Warden eliminated the werewolf threat, forging an alliance with the Dalish.

[organicbabybattles]

ROUND 1, SIDE A, POLL 2

Onya ( @god-mouths ) VS. Audrey June ( @cantdanceflynn )

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( art by god-mouths )

What is your baby's name? Pronouns?: Onya (she/her)

Is your baby from a fandom or original?: started out as a toh but this is an oc baby now :)

How old is your baby?: 8

Tell us about your baby!: Onya lives in a foster home with ~6 other siblings! She as the baby of the family is very pampered by her Ma. she is a very business minded toddler, and can broker a deal with the best of them. Negotiated for a higher wage for her uncle simon (35). loves magic, loves centipedes and bugs.

Anything else you want to add?: she is silly!!!

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( art from this picrew )

What is your baby's name? Pronouns?: Audrey June, All pronouns but prefers She/Her

Is your baby from a fandom or original?: Completely original

How old is your baby?: 16

Tell us about your baby!: She's a Phoenix, in human(or, in this life, werewolf) form. While she can technically access the memories of her past lives through items that represent their lives, she prefers not to, as she doesn't like them affecting her thoughts. While she technically is disguised as a werewolf(has some traits, although has trouble passing around normal werewolves), she was adopted by a rabbit hybrid couple. And also bc I hadn't mentioned her whole story takes place in a post-apocalyptic world where a void god has taken over 99.99% of the world, aliens basically controlled by the void god rule the areas taken over by the void god, and the rest of humanity, all in small settlements or individuals shielded from the void god, have been with mythical creatures and cryptids and whatnot for so long that basically everyone is a combination of some mythical creatures genes. She has a best friend in a Banshee hybrid(and one of the few rare magic users) named Wisp, even if she had to turn down their romantic advances. She ends up spending most of her time either breaking up fights in her settlement, one of the few big ones left, or tutoring hybrids that are having trouble or in trouble, but she tends to take secret flights and hang out around bowling alleys and arcades to chill out.

Anything else you want to add?: She's basically my oldest oc, having gone through so many changes, but I love her more then anything. She didn't sign up for this, she just wants a good life w her family and friends, but living in the state the world is in means plans don't stay

[tanadrin]

Biomes of Sogant Raha: Xenogrowth and Xenogrowth Mix

[Map: major xenogrowth belts in central Rezana, showing full xenogrowth in red and xenogrowth mix in orange]

The recent biogeographical history of Sogant Raha can be divided into two major phases. The first of these phases concerns the planet as it was when the first Exiled arrived in orbit from a distant star. Driven by a soteriology that had grown up between legends of a lost paradise from which they had originated, and a future paradise embodied in a far-off exoplanet, whose atmosphere betrayed signs of a rich biosphere in its spectroscopic signature, an immediate debate began on what form human settlement on the new world would take.

This debate coalesced around two major ideologies that were in concurrence on many major issues, but which differed on a subtle but important point. The Instrumentalists sought to integrate humanity into this alien biosphere; they believed that human and Sogantine life should co-exist. The Renewalists sought to conform to the rigors of the Sogantine biosphere; they believed that the stewardship of Paradise was the highest priority. Both factions were extraordinarily conscious of the dark myths which stretched back into the first days of the Exile long ago, that said humanity was driven to flight, and the first Paradise laid waste because of the works of human hands. Both recognized that, in a cosmos in which living worlds seemed to be painfully rare, this was an opportunity that must not be squandered.

But despite the apparent consonance between these groups, the tension on what degree of importance to grant the human settlement of Paradise rapidly grew, and nearly resulted in civil war aboard the Ammas Echor. Two events prompted reconciliation. First, a joint surface expedition returned with the news that the native biosphere was safe for humans to inhabit, with little risk of disease spreading from humans to the xenobiota or vice-versa. Second, the Great Record, a genetic encyclopedia containing the whole genome of a vast number of Terran lifeforms and information on how to reconstruct living organisms from that data, was discovered carved into the bones of the Ammas Echor. This second discovery in particular threw the plans of both the Instrumentalists and Renewalists into confusion, and the Archivists, a third faction consisting of the heavily genetically and cybernetically altered caste responsible for shepherding the Ammas Echor during its millennia-long flight between the stars that had until then remained aloof, stepped in to broker a peace.

Under the watchful eye of the Archive, human settlement of the surface would begin, and steps would be taken to start the rebirth of terrestrial species that had been extinct for hundreds of thousands of years; but both would proceed along highly controlled and extremely cautious timetables, confined to small designated areas of the surface. Thorough computer simulations and carefully controlled ecological experiments would be undertaken before any expansion was considered; and the human population would remain tightly controlled for centuries to come. This was understood to be a price well worth paying to safeguard against the possibility of dealing irreparable harm to a unique world.

But not all the settlers were happy with this outcome. In particular, a small circle of radical Instrumentalists, augmented by geneticists and ecologists who felt that the Archive was suppressing legitimate scientific inquiry to keep the peace, began a rogue program of species-resurrection, believing that they could accelerate the Archive’s timetable considerably, without seriously endangering the native ecosystem. Working at Khoda Station, a weather observation post far to the southeast of the human colony, they started with various flowering plants before moving on to insects, birds, and (their crowning achievement) bottlenose dolphins. When this rogue operation was discovered, the Archive arrested everyone involved and ordered the destruction of Khoda Station and the sterilization of the surrounding land, to prevent the escape of any potential invasive species. One scientist who refused to evacuate was killed; but the dolphins, partially forewarned by the agitation of the humans, escaped into the open sea.

Further disruption to the program of settlement occurred two generations later; an epidemic of delirium, delusion, and madness began to sweep through first the planetside colonists, and then those who remained aboard the Ammas Echor as well. Only too late, the microbiologists of the Archive realized they had incompletely misunderstood the biosphere of Sogant Raha. Besides the familiar orders of cellular life, which resembled the biology of terran life in their structure, if not their particulars, there was a second order of life that was radically different. Non-cellular, chemically distinct--and in fact much more akin to human biology in composition--this order was principally microscopic, was found as a commensalist throughout the native biosphere, and had begun to colonize the endobiota, humans and the resurrected terran species. What was benign in the xenobiota that had co-evolved with the acytic clade had, for unknown reasons, begun to cause adverse reactions in humans. Led by a brilliant scientist named Kaituro, the Archive’s microbiologists raced to solve the underlying biological mysteries before the plague claimed the lives of the entire colony.

One morning, Kaituro’s colleagues awoke to a mystery: they found Kaituro in an isolation chamber meant for sterile experiments, hooked up to monitors for his vital signs; his body was alive and breathing, but he was brain-dead; the structure of his cerebellum had been destroyed, essentially liquefied, and replaced with a thick slurry of acytic microorganisms and neural protein. An IV in his arm indicated he had injected himself with a compound dangerous to humans but known to promote acytic growth, and a data feed connected to a port in his arm suggested he had been monitoring the activity of the acytes in his bloodstream for an unknown reason; but the data recorder was damaged, and the information unrecoverable. Whatever experiment he had been running was a failure; his body was incinerated that evening.

In subsequent months, the plague reached a fever pitch. Madness claimed the Ammas Echor itself, whose pilots drove it out of orbit and into the sea, a colossal loss for the colony which was still extensively reliant on the technology and fabrication facilities the ship provided. The planetside Archive strove to maintain peace, but panic and anger eventually caused a total political collapse; humans began to spread out across the planet, no longer unified by a single plan or purpose, and they brought with them various resurrected endobiota, which began to integrate themselves into the native ecosystem.

This is the essence of the first phase: a continuous history with the pre-human ecology of Sogant Raha, albeit with the gradual introduction of new endobiota. Although the technology used to resurrect endobiota was lost within a few centuries of the Ammas Echor’s destruction, by that time a huge portion of the Great Record had been transcribed, as it were, into living species. Some endobiota subsequently went extinct, outcompeted by xenobiota that were better adapted for Sogant Raha’s climate and soil, while others found new niches all their own. Oceanic endobiota were much less successful on the whole; besides the bottlenose dolphin, some species of kelp, and various species associated in coral reef ecosystems (which thrived in Sogant Raha’s warm, shallow seas), most oceanic endobiota simply could not compete with native life, and were not successfully resurrected.

Among some endobiota, a curious change occurred: some--but by no means all-organisms colonized by the acytes began to undergo radical changes in their morphology and behavior, changes that failed to be passed on to the offspring if the acytes were purged from them at an early stage of embryonic development. Rumors of monsters in the wilderness were followed by captured specimens of strange and dangerous beasts; and eventually, these were followed by bloody live encounters with humans. The natural world seemed to be turning against humanity.

Worse was to come: for a long time, it seemed that the human body had adapted to the presence of the acytic commensalists that had caused the original epidemic of madness; however, some centuries later, this epidemic returned in a new form. Now tending to cause primarily ataxia, tremors, insomnia, and mood swings, new outbreaks of acytic disease began to occur in a way that suggested they were caused by proximity, though no infectious agent could be identified besides the acytes themselves, which were present in the healthy and the sick alike.

At the same time, tensions were rising among states in the south of the world; investigation of the acytes showed that they had evolved a complicated signalling mechanism that stored a fantastic amount of energy, meaning that if they could be concentrated together in a high enough density, primed with the right signals and fed on the right substrate, they could be made into a powerful weapon.

Although this technology was abandoned as too difficult to control, and likely to promote vicious reprisals from competing states, knowledge of the technology spread to a transnational political faction that had come to understand the native biosphere as wholly hostile to continued human existence. Reports of ghostlike apparitions and many-limbed monsters composed of cold fire killing hundreds and shattering buildings were now becoming commonplace, coming where the new epidemic was most concentrated. Building on that earlier research, and using what was left of the sophisticated technology of the first colonists, they attempted to construct a machine that would permit them to selectively turn the acytic signalling mechanism against the native biosphere of Sogant Raha.

They succeeded beyond their wildest imaginations--in fact, they set off a cascading reaction that could not be stopped, and which began to destroy all native life on the planet. This era, dubbed “the Burning Spring,” resulted in countless acres of dead savannah and jungle that were consumed by wildfire, throwing thick smoke into the planet’s upper atmosphere, releasing vast quantities of carbon dioxide, and resulting in the deaths of millions due to famine and sickness. But as the Burning Spring passed over the world, endobiota--and endoflora in particular--seemed to revel in the destruction, rapidly claiming the territory yielded up by the native life.

It took many millennia for the global climate and human population to stabilize again; by the time it did, humanity could scarcely remember a time before, and the planet’s surface was now utterly transformed. This is the essential portrait of the second phase of Sogantine biogeography: instead of being dominated by xenobiota, with a small presence of endobiota and occasionally dense pockets surrounding human settlements, endobiota dominated the land-based biosphere, with significant intrusions into the ocean along continental shelves and in the upper water column, while the xenobiota was confined to dwindling refugia, mostly in the continental interiors, and the deep sea.

In the many thousands of years since the Burning Spring, the size of those refugia has continued to shrink. As they have dwindled, they seem to somehow become more conscious of the threat the alien intruders represent, and more unsparing in their defense. In those regions of xenogrowth mix, which seem to spread outward from and be supported by, the unmixed xenogrowth regions in their hearts, human life is impossible for any length of time. Both endo- and xenoflora here are unaccountably toxic, unusual and aggressive animals are found that are known nowhere else, novel viruses cause fulminant cancers and keratinous growths on the skin, and acytes within the human body seem to go haywire, causing neurological disruptions, hallucinations, and necrotic abscesses. It is rumored that beyond this nightmarish borderland, the heart of these refugia are tranquil and beautiful in comparison--remnants of a world once yearned for by humanity and now long-forgotten. But few have survived long enough to explore these regions.

Since these regions represent areas not available to use or exploration by humans, maps of Sogant Raha’s climate and biomes usually do not differentiate between types of xenogrowth or xenogrowth mix; the same colors represent forestlike, savannahlike, and grassland-like conditions.

[caesarslegion]

some Fresno snippets cus they’ve been running around my head + notes because I love explaining

“…Afraid for their life, they turn and ride backwards on the Road of destiny. In 3 minutes, an NCR sniper will have spotted them and taken aim. In 5 minutes, they’ll be condemned forever to a life they now wish to escape. In 8 years, another bullet will hit the target where this one failed, but they do not escape the first grave.”

so, as a general context, Fresno’s first Event in their life is an attack on a settlement near the Hell on Wheels compound, because Hellmouth is stubborn and has not let go of the idea of crushing others for power, they try raiding said settlement but end up failing miserably. This is Fresno’s first skirmish as a “real” 80s, and they chicken out as they notice that this is a doomed effort. Riding backwards on the road is sort of like going upstream, as much as they try to escape, the NCR sniper has already spotted them, and is aiming to kill. In my mind, it hits their motorcycle and leads to their arrest and being shipped off to prison, but like going upstream, they don’t escape the bullet meant for their head even if it arrives 8 years later. Prison is also where I think all the performance for Hellmouth’s approval and survival kind of becomes welded on to them because. Prison. It’s a grave for a that child they were. They still do become a “””man””” but it’s still a massively painful procedure

“…Their name is Fresno Cienfuegos— they’d be Lázaro Cienfuegos, seventh of his name, if they succeeded. All notable for being awarded a bullet to the brain before the age of 25— and their crimes are far too many to mention.”

Fresno’s trial! Or, sentencing really. I think Hellmouth would be the sort to ransom love and acceptance for violence, which. No wonder they are so repulsed by love and affection, to them it’s still being bait. Lázaro is the name of Hell on Wheels’ founder’s husband (tempted to call her Lilith or something) that died in an attempt to broker peace almost 200 years ago, I like the idea of that getting distorted through the years and turned into the first warrior that died, and keeps coming back. Lazarus risen over and over and over but they never learn their lesson and all doomed to die the same way, also the idea of a “seventh son”, the pronoun change is intentional. Also, power in a name. Hellmouth took his name by force and went back in the cycle but Fresno is disconnected from the start and can choose. Their crimes are too many too mention both against the 80s, the NCR and themselves. They live with a. Lot of guilt.

”Following the advice of one of the wiser members of their chapter, the second they enter the prison they test their courage against the other damned souls. The endeavor is rewarded with two years suffocating in a four by two room and snickering glances and mockery behind their back for the next six.”

I think a theme with Fresno is that they genuinely do not have any guidance or advice that would be genuinely useful to them and have very little experience socializing and approaching people and they try to imitate what the people they think are right do, with it usually blowing up in their face about it. Whatever they did was pretty stupid and it didn’t work out like it seemed. I think it kinda rides with the idea of Fresno riding backwards on fate but being pushed forwards anyway, since they also try to escape the Legion and it fails horrifically, I think there’s a theme of trying to continue a harmful cycle and then being locked out or forced into it but my brain don’t work that good.

“They sit on opposite sides of the campfire, Vulpes is used to silence and scrutiny, and Fresno cannot stand either of those. It doesn’t surprise him that they speak just to fill the air, “I think it rained that day. The day I got shot, I mean. I could feel it on my face.” It hasn’t rained in the Mojave for decades, and it will not rain as long as Fresno walks the earth. The courier is a liar of the worst kind, the ones that hide behind shields of glass hoping the other party won’t look through them. They think they are too strong to cry. He wants to prove them wrong.”

<- deranged. I like the idea of rain being a denial of tears, they were crying in the grave due to Everything but they have Problems and do not want to accept the idea that they are “weak” enough to cry, so it’s rain instead. It’s kinda hammered in that its such a transparent lie that it won’t rain as long as they’re alive, just to prove that they are sooo wrong. Also I have the idea of Vulpes also being in that sort of denial, I have conceptualized an idea of him escaping a collapsed Legion and feeling rain on his skin while the sun beats down on him. Not so different after all

I’ll rb this post if I have any more to exorcise cus I like doing these. :3

[altrxisme]

Stats & History — Jackson Odali : { bg3 verse }

Name: Jackson Sionnach Odali  Alias:  Silvertongue Race: Wood Half-Elf Age: Late 50s, appears mid to late 20s Hair / Eyes: Dark Brown / Bright Blue Height: 185 cm / 6 ft 1 in Weight: 75.7kg / 167lbs Notable Markings: White vertical scar on left side of lip, armband tattoos on both arms (Mielikki on the right and Sylvanus on the left), stab scar on front left shoulder

Class: Ranger (base, Gloomstalker) , Rogue, Bard Background: Guild Artisan

Birthplace: Silverymoon, Faerûn Location: Lower City, Baldur's Gate Occupation: Trade Scout, Info Broker, Balduran-Circle Liaison  Fighting Style: Archery

Childhood

Jackson had always been a shy, quiet child who kept to himself as his mother traveled often between the the city of Silverymoon where he was born and The Circle of Tall Trees at the edge of the city. While he was born without knowing who his birth father was and his mother, Eva Odali, reluctant to share any information regarding the man, the young half-elf was content with the company of his mother and their peers in the Circle.

Life changed when his mother met a man named Stian Fröst and his daughter, Johanne. While their parents were in love, both children were wary of one another as many their age would feel. More so with Jackson, as Eva decided that they should live in the city so they were all under one roof. While the distance from the Circle wasn't far, it felt like a vast distance to the young boy. However, he saw how much the man made his ma happy and eventually agreed.

Despite their reservations about each other, Jackson eventually looked up to Johanne and accepted her as his older sister. Often trailing after her when they played and was well-protected by her whenever he was bullied for his timid demeanor. His life began to settle and soon, he came to accept his new family and the little ones, Emma and Mikael, once they were born.

The disappearance of his new father and having to flee Silverymoon to Neverwinter, left Jackson in a whirlwind of emotions he didn't know what to do with. He felt anger, fear, and grief all at once. Not knowing where to direct these feelings, the half-elf turned to pranking the Neverwinter locals along with a boy who fed the worst of him. It took his siblings almost getting hurt to finally change his ways, the memory haunting him.

After Johanne left Neverwinter, Jackson followed a year at his mother's insistence. Using his mother's Circle connections and occasionally his late-father's mercenary connections, the half-elf made his way down south to find himself.

Before the Nautiloid...

Between finding a place to settle and occasionally visiting family, Jackson's own connections and network grew throughout the years. Merchants admired skills in trade, artisans of all sorts appreciated the eye he had for their works, mercenaries took note of his skill with a bow and ability to scout— but the most important ability he had was gleaning information from whoever he spoke to— and his smile.

Baldur's Gate eventually reeled in the infamous Silvertongue to make a home within, his main employment was securing merchant trade routes and acting as a liaison between druidic settlements for the city. He's rubbed elbows with the urchins and the upper-crust alike, tucking away information in exchange for more.

There's a price for knowing more than one should, however, and its began to take a toll on Jackson.

[ammg-old2]

A short recap of the past 24 hours in Russia reads like the backstory for a fanciful episode of Madam Secretary or The West Wing. Yevgeny Prigozhin, the brutal convicted criminal who leads the Wagner mercenary group, declared war on the Russian Ministry of Defense and marched into the city of Rostov-on-Don. He then headed north for Moscow, carrying his demand for the ousting of Minister of Defense Sergei Shoigu and Chief of the General Staff Valery Gerasimov. The city went on alert.

Prigozhin and his men came within 125 miles of the capital—that is, closer to Moscow than Philadelphia is to Washington, D.C. He then said that a deal had been struck and that Wagner’s forces were turning around to avoid bloodshed. Apparently, however, the blood Prigozhin saved from being shed was his own. If the “deal” announced by the Kremlin spokesperson Dmitry Peskov accurately reflects an actual settlement, Prigozhin has in the space of a day gone from being a powerful warlord to a man living on borrowed time in a foreign country, waiting for Russian President Vladimir Putin’s inevitable retribution.

According to Peskov, Russia is dropping all charges against Prigozhin, who must now go into exile in Belarus. Wagner fighters who did not take part in the rebellion will be given amnesty, and then they will sign contracts that will bring them under the control of Shoigu’s Ministry of Defense. I suggested yesterday that Shoigu’s attempt to seize Wagner’s men and dissolve the force might be one of the reasons Prigozhin went on the march. This outcome is a defeat of the first order for Prigozhin, who has now lost everything except his life.

We can at this point only speculate about why Prigozhin undertook this putsch, and why it all failed so quickly. One possibility is that Prigozhin had allies in Moscow who promised to support him, and somehow that support fell through: Perhaps his friends in the Kremlin got cold feet, or were less numerous than Prigozhin realized, or never existed. Prigozhin, after all, is not exactly a military genius or a diplomat; he’s a violent, arrogant, emotional man who may well have embarked on this scheme huffing from a vat of his own overconfidence.

Nonetheless, this bizarre episode is not a win for Putin. The Russian dictator has been visibly wounded, and he will now bear the permanent scar of political vulnerability. Instead of looking like a decisive autocrat (or even just a mob boss in command of his crew), Putin left Moscow after issuing a short video in which he was visibly angry and off his usual self-assured game. Putin reportedly worries a great deal about being assassinated, and so perhaps he wanted to hunker down until he had more clarity about who might be in league with Prigozhin. But whatever the reason, he vowed to deal with Prigozhin decisively and then blew town, probably to his retreat at Valdai, in a move that looked weak and disorganized.

Bringing in President Aleksandr Lukashenko as a broker at first seemed an odd choice on Putin’s part, but it makes a bit more sense in light of the supposed deal. The Belarusian autocrat could personally vouch for Prigozhin’s safe passage; Lukashenko has no connections in Moscow that are more important than Putin; he does not live or work in the Kremlin and so he was a secure choice to carry out Putin’s terms; he owes Putin his continued rule and has no reason to betray him. Also, sending in Lukashenko was something of a power move: Putin is a former intelligence officer, and in that world, Prigozhin is merely a scummy convict. The two men were friendly before this, but they were not equals. It would have been a huge loss of face for the president of a great power to negotiate with his former chef in person.

Prigozhin gets to stay alive, at least for the moment, but his life as he knew it (and maybe in any sense) is over. Putin, however, is now politically weaker than ever. The once unchallengeable czar is no longer invincible. The master of the Kremlin had to make a deal with a convict—again, in Putin’s culture, among the lowest of the low—just to avert the shock and embarrassment of an armed march into the Russian capital while other Russians are fighting on the front lines in Ukraine.

Prigozhin drew blood and then walked away from a man who never, ever lets such a personal offense go unavenged. But Putin may have had no choice, which is yet another sign of his precarious situation. All of the options were terrifying: Ordering the Russian military to attack armed Russian men would have been a huge risk, especially because those men (and their hatred of the bureaucrats at the Defense Ministry) have at least some support among Russia’s officers and political elites. Killing Prigozhin outright was also a high-risk proposition; with their leader dead and the Russian military closing in, the Wagnerites might have decided to fight to the death.

This wound to Putin’s power goes deep, but how deep is difficult to gauge for now, especially because we do not know whether Shoigu or Gerasimov still have their jobs. And although the rebellion has taken Wagner off the field in Ukraine, Putin may still seek to cover this ignominious moment by escalating Russia’s brutality there. But two things appear certain. First, Putin has suffered a huge political blow, and he has survived by making deals with both Prigozhin and his own colleagues in the Kremlin who are, by any definition, a humiliation. And second, Yevgeny Prigozhin has changed the Russian political environment surrounding Putin’s war in Ukraine.

Prigozhin’s rebellion and its effects will last beyond today, but how long he will live in Belarus—or stay alive in Belarus—to see how the rest of it plays out is unclear.

[americanlifefund]

Viatical Settlement Explained

If you have been diagnosed with a life-threatening illness, you may be considering a viatical settlement. This is when you sell your life insurance policy for cash. Viatical settlements are arranged by viatical settlement companies or viatical settlement brokers. The third party you sell your policy to is usually an institutional investor.

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Viatical settlements have their own risks and it is important to research all available options before making a decision. Please consult a qualified financial advisor before engaging in any viatical settlement transaction. Viatical settlement companies are regulated by state laws and regulations, which may vary from state to state. Consult your state's department of insurance for more information on viatical settlements in your state. American Life Fund does not provide legal or financial advice and recommends professional consultation prior to entering into any viatical settlement contract. Viatical settlements provided by American Life Fund are subject to the terms and conditions of a Viatical Settlement Contract.

Viatical settlement transactions are not suitable for everyone, as there are associated risks. It is important to research all available options before making a decision that is right for you. Our team at American Life Fund can help provide essential information on viatical settlements so that you can make an informed decision. When working with us, you will receive superior service and peace of mind knowing that your policy is in good hands.

Contact American Life Fund today to learn more about how viatical settlements can help you. We look forward to helping you secure the best deal for your life insurance policy. Get started now and begin selling your policy for cash with a viatical settlement.

[medinyx-tech]

How Life Insurance Software is Revolutionizing the Industry

The insurance industry is undergoing a major transformation, driven by advancements in technology. One of the most significant changes is the rise of life insurance software, which is reshaping the way insurers manage policies, claims, and customer relationships. From automating policy administration to enhancing customer service, these life insurance software solutions are revolutionizing the industry in ways that were unimaginable just a decade ago.

In this article, we’ll explore how life insurance software is changing the landscape for insurers, agents, and brokers, and why it’s essential for businesses to adopt modern life insurance management systems to stay competitive.

The Evolution of Life Insurance Software

Gone are the days of manual policy management, paperwork overload, and inefficient processes. The introduction of insurance policy administration systems has streamlined operations and improved the efficiency of insurers worldwide. Here’s how life insurance software is driving this change:

1. Automating Policy Administration

Managing a large volume of life insurance policies can be a daunting task. Traditional methods involve extensive paperwork, which is not only time-consuming but also prone to human error. With advanced life insurance policy administration systems, insurers can automate tasks like policy issuance, renewals, and updates, ensuring that policies are managed accurately and efficiently. This automation saves time and minimizes the risk of errors, allowing insurance companies to focus on core business functions.

2. Enhancing Customer Experience

Today’s customers expect fast, efficient, and personalized services. Life insurance software solutions enable insurers to offer a seamless, customer-centric experience. From providing real-time policy information to simplifying claims processes, these solutions improve the overall customer journey. For example, many modern life insurance management systems integrate with mobile apps, allowing policyholders to access their information, make payments, or file claims with just a few taps on their smartphones.

3. Data-Driven Decision Making

Data is at the heart of modern life insurance management. With advanced analytics capabilities, life insurance software solutions can process vast amounts of data, enabling insurers to make more informed decisions. By analyzing customer behavior, risk factors, and market trends, insurers can optimize policy offerings, adjust pricing, and improve underwriting accuracy. This data-driven approach ensures that insurers stay competitive while also reducing risk.

4. Streamlining Claims Management

Claims processing has always been a critical aspect of the insurance industry, and it’s often a pain point for both insurers and customers. With life insurance management systems, the claims process is streamlined, enabling faster and more efficient settlements. Automated workflows, AI-powered claim validation, and real-time notifications help to reduce the turnaround time for claims, leading to higher customer satisfaction and fewer disputes.

5. Compliance and Risk Management

Insurance is a heavily regulated industry, with compliance requirements constantly evolving. Insurance policy administration systems ensure that insurers remain compliant by automatically updating regulatory changes and enforcing policy rules. This reduces the burden on insurers and ensures that they avoid costly penalties. Additionally, modern life insurance software incorporates risk management tools that help insurers assess and mitigate potential risks, improving overall business sustainability.

Benefits of Implementing Life Insurance Software

The advantages of adopting life insurance software solutions go beyond efficiency and automation. Here are the key benefits that insurers can expect:

Increased Operational Efficiency: By automating routine tasks, insurers can significantly reduce operational costs and improve overall productivity.

Enhanced Customer Retention: Faster response times, personalized services, and a seamless customer experience lead to higher customer satisfaction and loyalty.

Scalability: Modern life insurance policy administration systems are designed to scale as the business grows, making them suitable for companies of all sizes.

Cost Savings: With reduced manual labor and operational inefficiencies, insurers can save on costs while improving their bottom line.

Future of Life Insurance Management Systems

The future of the insurance industry is digital, and insurers who fail to adopt cutting-edge life insurance management systems risk falling behind. The next wave of innovation will be driven by AI, machine learning, and blockchain technologies, all of which are being integrated into life insurance software solutions to further enhance automation, security, and customer experience.

For insurers looking to stay ahead in this rapidly evolving landscape, investing in modern insurance policy administration systems is no longer optional—it’s a necessity. Those who embrace this change will not only improve their operational efficiency but also position themselves as leaders in the market.

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Conclusion

The insurance industry is on the brink of a digital revolution, and life insurance software is at the forefront of this transformation. By automating policy administration, improving customer service, and enabling data-driven decisions, these systems are revolutionizing the way insurers operate. For insurers looking to remain competitive, adopting modern life insurance software solutions is the key to future success.

With MedinyX cutting-edge life insurance management systems, you can enhance your business operations, reduce costs, and provide the seamless experience your customers demand. Don’t wait—invest in the future of insurance today.

[valuationproperty34]

Why You Should Hire A Marrickville Buyers Agent: The Smart Choice For Property Purchases

Purchasing property in Marrickville, one of Sydney's most vibrant and sought-after suburbs, can be a daunting task, especially in a competitive market. Whether you're a first-time buyer or an experienced investor, navigating the complexities of the real estate market requires expertise, local knowledge, and strategic negotiation skills. This is where a Marrickville buyers agent comes in—a professional dedicated to helping you find and secure the best property deals. In this article, we'll explore the benefits of hiring a Marrickville buyers agent and how they can make your property buying experience smooth and successful.

What Is a Buyers Agent?

A buyers agent is a licensed real estate professional who represents the buyer's interests in a property transaction. Unlike traditional real estate agents, who typically work on behalf of the seller, a buyers agent focuses solely on helping the buyer find the right property, negotiate the best price, and manage the entire purchase process. In a market like Marrickville, where demand often exceeds supply, having a buyers agent on your side can give you a significant advantage.

Why Marrickville?

Marrickville is a thriving inner-west suburb of Sydney, known for its diverse culture, trendy cafes, vibrant arts scene, and excellent transport links. The suburb has seen rapid growth in recent years, making it a hot spot for both residential and investment properties. However, this popularity also means that competition for properties is fierce, and prices can be high. Local knowledge is crucial to navigate this competitive market effectively—something a Marrickville buyers agent can provide.

Benefits of Hiring a Marrickville Buyers Agent

1. Local Market Expertise: Marrickville buyer's agents have in-depth knowledge of the local property market, including recent sales, pricing trends, and upcoming developments. This expertise allows them to identify properties that offer the best value and investment potential. They also have access to off-market listings, giving you opportunities that are not available to the general public.

2. Time-Saving: Searching for the perfect property can be time-consuming and stressful, especially in a busy market like Marrickville. A buyers agent will handle all the legwork for you, from researching properties to arranging inspections and evaluating potential options. This saves you countless hours and allows you to focus on other important aspects of your life.

3. Negotiation Power: One of the most significant advantages of hiring a buyers agent is their negotiation skills. With their experience in the Marrickville market, they know how to negotiate the best possible price and terms on your behalf. They also understand the tactics used by sellers and their agents, ensuring that you don't overpay or miss out on a great deal.

4. Objective Advice: Getting emotionally attached to a property is easy, which can cloud your judgment during the buying process. A buyers agent provides objective advice, helping you make decisions based on facts and market data rather than emotions. They will also help you avoid common pitfalls, such as overpaying for a property or overlooking potential issues.

5. Comprehensive Support: From the initial property search to the final settlement, a buyers agent provides comprehensive support throughout the entire buying process. They coordinate with solicitors, building inspectors, and mortgage brokers to ensure everything runs smoothly. This level of support is especially valuable if you’re new to the property market or buying in a competitive area like Marrickville.

Choosing the Right Marrickville Buyers Agent

When selecting a Marrickville buyer's agent, it is essential to choose someone with a proven track record in the local market. Look for an agent who is familiar with Marrickville’s unique characteristics and has a strong network of contacts in the area. Reading reviews and seeking recommendations can also help you find a reliable and trustworthy agent.

Conclusion

In a bustling property market like Marrickville, having a professional buyer agent on your side can make all the difference. They bring local expertise, negotiation skills, and comprehensive support to ensure that you secure the best property at the right price. Whether buying your first home or expanding your investment portfolio, a Marrickville buyers agent can help you confidently navigate the market and achieve your property goals. Investing in a buyers agent is a smart move that can save you time, money, and stress in the long run.