#Wilder Law Firm

[wilderlawfirm]

What Are the 3 Elements of Assault?

Assault is often misunderstood as solely physical violence, but it actually involves intentionally instilling fear or apprehension of imminent harmful or offensive contact, even without physical interaction.

Grasping the essential elements of assault is vital for both potential victims and those facing accusations.

This article will outline these key elements, explore the different degrees of assault, and provide effective strategies for defending against assault allegations. Our aim is to clarify the legal landscape surrounding assault and empower readers with essential knowledge.

What is Assault?

Assault refers to an act where one individual intentionally instills fear or apprehension in another regarding imminent harmful or offensive contact. Importantly, it does not require physical contact; the focus is on the threat itself. This distinction is vital, as many mistakenly equate all physical altercations with assault.

The essence of assault lies in intention and perception. The perpetrator must intend to threaten immediate harm for an act to qualify as assault. Without this intent, even seemingly threatening behavior may not meet the legal criteria.

Jurisdictions may define assault differently, making it essential to understand local laws when determining if an action qualifies as assault.

Types of Assault

Assault can be classified into several categories based on severity and the circumstances surrounding the act. Understanding these types is crucial for recognizing the legal implications and potential consequences. Here are the main types of assault:

Simple Assault

Involves minor injuries or threats without any weapon.

Often characterized by physical intimidation or attempts to cause fear.

Aggravated Assault

A more serious charge that includes the use of a weapon or infliction of significant bodily harm.

May involve intent to commit murder or cause serious injury, making it a felony in many jurisdictions.

Sexual Assault

Refers to unwanted sexual acts committed against another person.

Includes a range of offenses, from unwanted touching to rape, and is handled with sensitivity given the profound impact on victims.

Assault with a Deadly Weapon

Involves the use of a weapon that can cause serious injury or death.

This type escalates the seriousness of the charge and potential penalties.

Verbal Assault

While not always legally recognized as assault, it involves threats or aggressive language intended to intimidate or provoke fear.

Often precedes physical altercations and can contribute to a hostile environment.

Essential Elements of Assault

Assault is often misunderstood and has specific legal components. To establish an assault claim, three essential elements must be present: intent, apprehension, and immediacy. Grasping these elements clarifies how the law interprets assault and its implications for both victims and the accused.

Intent

Intent is a fundamental aspect of assault. The person accused must have intended to cause fear or harm. This means they acted with purpose, not by accident. If someone did not mean to threaten another person, it typically does not qualify as assault.

Apprehension

Apprehension refers to the victim’s reaction to the threat. The individual must reasonably fear that harmful or offensive contact is about to occur.

This sense of fear should be genuine and understandable. If the victim feels threatened, even if no physical harm occurs, it can still be considered assault.

Immediacy

Immediacy is crucial when assessing an assault claim. The threat must be immediate, meaning it’s about to happen soon. Speculative or future threats do not count. The victim must perceive that harm is about to take place right away. This urgency is essential in distinguishing assault from mere words or distant threats.

Degrees of Assault

Assault is categorized into degrees based on the severity of the offense and the circumstances involved. Understanding these distinctions is essential for grasping the legal implications. Here are the main degrees of assault:

First-Degree Assault

This is the most severe form of assault.

It typically involves intentionally causing serious bodily harm or using a deadly weapon.

First-degree assault often carries the heaviest penalties, including lengthy prison sentences.

Second-Degree Assault

This involves causing bodily injury to another person, but the intent may not be as severe as in first-degree cases.

It can include instances where a weapon is used, but not necessarily in a way that indicates an intent to kill.

Penalties for second-degree assault are serious, though generally less severe than for first-degree assault.

Third-Degree Assault

This is usually considered the least severe type of assault.

It may involve causing minor injuries or using threats without causing physical harm.

Third-degree assault often results in lighter penalties, typically classified as a misdemeanor.

Ways to Defend Against Accusations of Assault

Accusations of assault can have serious consequences, both legally and personally. Being proactive and informed can help individuals protect themselves from such allegations. Here are effective strategies to safeguard against accusations of assault:

1. Stay Calm and Composed

In potentially heated situations, keeping your cool can prevent misunderstandings.

Responding calmly can help de-escalate tension and avoid physical confrontations.

2. Avoid Confrontation

Whenever possible, steer clear of situations that could lead to conflict.

If you sense a confrontation is brewing, remove yourself from the situation to prevent escalation.

3. Document Everything

Keep detailed notes of any incidents that could lead to accusations.

Record dates, times, locations, and witness names to establish a clear account of events.

4. Use Clear Communication

Clearly express your intentions and feelings in any interaction.

If discussing sensitive topics, use neutral language to minimize misunderstandings.

5. Seek Witnesses

Involve neutral third parties in situations where conflict might arise.

Having witnesses can provide an objective perspective if accusations occur later.

6. Know Your Rights

Familiarize yourself with local laws regarding assault and self-defense.

Understanding your legal rights can help you navigate situations more effectively.

7. Consult Legal Counsel

If you feel you might be at risk of accusations, consult with a assault lawyer in Texas.

Legal advice can provide guidance on how to protect yourself and respond to any claims.

Should I Hire a Lawyer to Sue for Assault?

Yes. Deciding to hire a lawyer to sue for assault is often a wise choice. An experienced attorney from the Wilder Law Firm - Plano DWI and Criminal Defense Lawyers can navigate the complexities of the legal system, assess the strength of your case, and negotiate on your behalf for a fair settlement. Their expertise can significantly enhance your chances of a successful outcome.

Many personal injury lawyers work on a contingency fee basis, meaning you don’t pay unless you win. This makes legal representation more accessible and aligns the lawyer's interests with yours, providing you with the support and guidance needed during a challenging time.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes Episode 19: Four Seasons Landscaping

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: dubcon; noncon; tentacles; cumflation; plant-fucking; creampie;

A/N: Apologies if this one feels rushed. It is. Today's been remarkably busy for a Sunday so I bashed this one out quick. I left the CWs on for dubcon and noncon because fem!reader isn't into it at first, even if she gets into it pretty fast. Read at your own discretion, but this is much nicer than yesterday's

####################################

Another day, another job. You checked your docket, this sure was the address. You sighed heavily, was this another case of them giving the only woman at the firm the shitty job again, or did someone seriously see the half acre of bramble and overgrown hedges and call it "light weeding"

You may never know

First off was the perimeter hedge, where it overhung the street. Your trimmers made short work of the overhang, even if you did need the long ladder to get to the top of them. Whoever owned this plot really liked their privacy to have planted ten-foot hedges around the entire property line. You weren't sure how the neighbours felt about it, but you're only being paid for the street-side so you couldn't care less.

At least the pavement was clear now, and working inside such a private plot really limits how much randos from the street can catcall you. That's one plus, at least.

The docket specified no weedkillers, so you can't just put on a rubber suit and salt the earth with glyphosate and a cocktail of other chemicals adorned with fun-looking warning triangles. You pulled on your overalls and stocked your toolbelt with an array of trowels, secateurs, shears, forks, strimmer wire, a trusty multitool, and a pair of heavier gloves, just in case. Armed with the tools of your profession, girded in denim dungarees, safety specs, and ear defenders, you started your mechanised assault on the wilderness.

You cut your path into the tangle of weeds and vines. Foliage piled high upon itself on wither side of you as you hacked inwards. You wondered if a machete would be a better tool when you remembered: you actually have one in the van! You'd been given it as a joke when you started, but a quirk of the law let you keep it around so it lived in a cubby in the centre console. You turned to make your way back.

Your path had closed behind you. The piles of plant matter leaning on each other and blocking your way. You shrugged and revved your strimmer. Cutting out should be as easy as cutting in.

In theory.

As soon as the wire hit the brambles, it snarled up. You heard the engine struggle, then stall entirely. Damn. You couldn't pull the machine free. The secateurs came out, and you leant down to cut it out.

Big mistake.

You hadn't noticed the vines that had wrapped themselves around your ankles when you turned, and tripped, falling into a bank of thorny vines. You felt the brambles piercing your gloves and long sleeves. Your hands wouldn't pull free. Your legs were rooted to the ground. You struggled against your bonds, thorns biting deeper with every movement.

You start to panic.

Plants don't act like this.

Plants don't do this.

You felt the briars start to pull at your ankles. Plant's definitely don't do this. You called out as you watched the entrance recede from you as you were hauled over the cutting barbs, deeper into the tangle.

Nobody came.

The vines were pulling you on, you could tell you were going downhill, though the plot should be level. A sinkhole perhaps? It didn't matter, down you went. You craned your neck to look behind you. Trying to get a glimpse of where you were going. That's when you saw it.

A flower. Huge and angry pink. You were going straight towards it.

You felt the petals close around your waist. Your hands were free now, but you couldn't wriggle them between your flesh and the opening of the plant. Each ankle was being pulled a different direction, holding you spreadeagled within the plant. You felt something strange within the flower, like your clothes being moved around on you. Something was... rubbing your legs? For some reason your skin felt wet

Wait

Those overalls were waxed. Waterproof. Nothing should be getting on your skin unless... Oh shit.

Your clothes are being digested. The plant must be carnivorous, which made sense, why else would it have vines that drag you into it? It didn't hurt though, which was strange. Whatever the plant was using to so rapidly eat away at your clothing didn't seem to damage your skin, or even sting when it hit the scratches the vines were still leaving on you.

Something pushed up what was left of your trouser leg, tearing the weakened material away from you, leaving you almost completely bare inside the bell of the plant. Next came your underwear, the thin cotton didn't offer any resistance to the digestive juices daubed on it. Now those same tendrils were painting your bare crotch. You felt your cheeks flush with arousal, this plant felt pretty good. The tendrils kept going, lubricating you and running between the lips of your cunt, as though a lover tenderly licking you up and down.

Every stroke caught your clit, your hole, your ass, first one way, then the other. Your breathing was getting heavier as the rubbing edged you closer and closer. Your hands strayed to your tits, cupping and squeezing as you rolled your head back, delighting in the sensations until you reached your peak, crying out as your release simmered over you.

Another tendril was pressing against you now. This one was moving with more purpose, pressing against your pussy until it entered your well-lubricated hole. You whined as it filled you, anticipating another orgasm as it started to thrust in and out, worming around and stretching you out. The insistent thrusting and continued attentions on your clit drove you to another screaming finish before you felt a hot, thick liquid filling you up. More and more it pumped into you, your womb ached with the amount and you could feel your belly bloating, growing large and round with the sheer volume of the stuff.

As quickly as it began, it pulled away. The vines loosened from your ankles and the flower released you, leaving you to cut away the last tangled pieces of vine from you and start the slow climb out, leaking a thick golden sap from your cunt as you dragged yourself uphill.

It took you over an hour to get back up to your strimmer, which you cut out and dragged behind you as you wobbled back into the van. By some miracle, your toolbelt was still largely unharmed, and everything that was on it before was still there. Along with, tucked into one of the thick, heavy-duty gloves, the end of a vine.

You're no botanist, but you know how to propagate a plant.

[cerastes]

Penance getting a wine aunt shitfaced by the staircase alt costume is great because it stays in line with Penance literally just being someone, everyone else in Siracusano is some sort of power player mk ultra super assassin messenger of the wilderness gods, fully embroiled in a bloodline-defining, family tree-etching shadow war that decides the continued fate of the entire slab of land in which it takes place, vehemence setting the pace and subterfuge playing the melody, cloak & dagger being an essential every day skill, uninvolved people dying to the crossfire so often it doesn’t really matter, Sargonian Agent 47 is there, and in the middle of the highest echelons of this conflict, one can find Lavinia “Let Me Solo Her” Falcone, whose special powers include:

Went to law school

Being a pleasant but firm woman

Harnesses an enigmatic power known as “empathy”, in which the user puts themselves in the shoes of others, an Art unknown to even the brightest minds at Leithenien’s ivory spires.

Kinda doesn’t like it when things aren’t fair.

Penance probably worked retail. She has the unrelenting perseverance and counter-based damage often found in survivors of getting asked to see the manager, and the burst damage windows commonly seen in those who were the manager. Penance played futbol and was probably just a step above dogshit at it. Penance can make extremely good calzones. Penance had zero supernatural ties to the forces that be that she knew of. Penance can forget to hold back and kill a wilderness god in a single wicked strike with her hammer. Penance is nobody. Penance is everyone. Penance is drunk by the staircase. Penance smells of booze and gives good hugs. You like Penance. It’s true.

[moonlight-joy]

Hunting Stars

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Kraven the hunter

Summary: In a futuristic world where intergalactic hunting is a sport, Kraven is one of the most notorious hunters in the galaxy. You’re a scientist on a far-off planet studying endangered species, and Kraven arrives to hunt a mythical beast you’ve been protecting. But when the beast bonds with you, Kraven decides he must protect you as well.

Pairing: Reader/Sergei Kravinoff

The sky above Eridani Prime was a riot of color, its twin suns casting hues of lavender and gold over the rolling plains. The air shimmered with life, the calls of native creatures blending into a symphony of wild beauty. You stood on a ridge, your hands resting on the scanner strapped to your chest, watching the landscape with a sense of unease.

They were coming.

The Alliance had warned you about hunters venturing to protected planets like this one, but you never thought they’d send someone like him. Sergei Kravinoff, known across the galaxy as Kraven, was infamous. A hunter whose reputation spanned star systems, his name was whispered with both reverence and fear. And now, he was here, tracking the mythical Astralis beast—the creature you’d spent years studying and protecting.

You tightened your grip on the scanner as the soft hum of a spacecraft reached your ears. Looking up, you saw a sleek silver ship cutting through the atmosphere, its design unmistakably Kraven’s. Your heart pounded. If he found the Astralis, it wouldn’t just mean the loss of a creature you’d devoted your life to—it could mean the end of an ancient mystery tied to the galaxy’s very fabric.

The Astralis wasn’t just a beast. It was a guardian.

Kraven disembarked from his ship with the precision of a predator. Clad in dark, battle-worn armor, he moved with the confidence of someone who knew he was the most dangerous being in any room—or on any planet. His amber eyes scanned the horizon, calculating and sharp, taking in every detail of the landscape.

He’d heard the legends of Eridani Prime, of the Astralis and its supposed connection to the galaxy’s ancient past. But Kraven didn’t care about myths or secrets. He cared about the hunt, about proving himself against the universe’s most formidable prey. Yet, as he ventured into the wilderness, something about this world felt… different. The air seemed charged, alive, and the terrain whispered secrets he couldn’t quite grasp.

He didn’t expect resistance. Certainly not in the form of you.

You intercepted him near the edge of a crystalline lake, your small hovercraft cutting across the plains to block his path. Kraven stopped, his expression unreadable as he watched you dismount, your frame dwarfed by his imposing figure.

“Turn back,” you said, your voice firm despite the nerves twisting in your gut. “This planet is protected by intergalactic law. The Astralis is off-limits.”

Kraven’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Protected, you say? Funny, I don’t see anyone here enforcing that law.”

“I am,” you snapped, stepping closer. “And if you think I’m just going to let you slaughter an endangered species for sport, you’re mistaken.”

Kraven tilted his head, studying you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “You’ve got fire,” he said. “But do you have the strength to back it up?”

Before you could respond, a distant roar echoed across the plains. Both of you froze, the sound reverberating through the air like a living pulse. You turned toward the source, your chest tightening.

“The Astralis,” you whispered.

Kraven’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a gleam of hunger in his eyes. Without another word, he moved toward the sound, his stride purposeful. You scrambled to follow, your heart racing as the roars grew louder.

The Astralis was magnificent. Its shimmering, scaled body reflected the light like a living prism, its massive wings casting shadows over the ground. It stood in a clearing, its golden eyes scanning the surroundings with intelligence that defied its beastly appearance. For a moment, you felt a wave of awe—and then fear, as Kraven raised his weapon.

“No!” you shouted, stepping between him and the creature. “You can’t kill it!”

Kraven’s expression darkened. “Move,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“It’s not just a beast!” you said, desperation creeping into your tone. “It’s connected to something bigger. Something ancient.”

“Then it’s even more valuable,” he replied coldly, stepping closer.

“You don’t understand!” you cried. “If you harm it, you could destroy everything!”

The Astralis let out a low, rumbling growl, and you felt a strange warmth spread through your chest. Its golden eyes locked onto yours, and in that instant, you felt… connected. Images flashed through your mind—a star collapsing, a galaxy forming, a sense of balance that tied all life together. The Astralis wasn’t just alive. It was a guardian of the galaxy’s equilibrium.

Kraven hesitated, his sharp eyes narrowing as he watched you. “What’s happening?” he demanded.

“It’s bonded with me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can feel it.”

Kraven lowered his weapon slightly, his expression unreadable. “If that’s true, you’ve just made yourself the most valuable target in the galaxy.”

From that moment, everything changed. Kraven’s mission shifted from hunting the Astralis to protecting you. You traveled together, fleeing from bounty hunters, mercenaries, and rogue factions who had caught wind of your bond with the creature. Despite his gruff demeanor, Kraven proved to be a capable ally, his skills and instincts keeping you both alive.

But the longer you spent with him, the more you began to see beyond the ruthless hunter. He was intelligent, resourceful, and—to your surprise—protective. He’d risk his life without hesitation to ensure your safety, his actions speaking louder than the few words he spared.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked him one night, as you sat by a campfire on a barren moon.

Kraven stared into the flames, his expression thoughtful. “Because I’ve spent my life hunting things I didn’t understand,” he said. “But you… and the Astralis… you’re different. This isn’t about a trophy anymore. It’s about something bigger.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. The connection you shared with the Astralis had shown you glimpses of a truth that spanned eons. And now, with Kraven by your side, you felt a strange sense of hope—that maybe, together, you could protect the fragile balance of the galaxy.

The final revelation came during a battle on an abandoned space station, where you and Kraven confronted a rogue faction determined to harness the Astralis’ power for their own ends. As you fought to protect the creature, it unleashed a burst of energy that illuminated the station, revealing ancient glyphs and technology hidden within its walls.

“This is it,” you said, your voice filled with wonder. “The secret it’s been guarding.”

Kraven stepped beside you, his eyes scanning the glowing symbols. “What does it mean?”

“It’s a map,” you realized. “A map to something that could change everything.”

He looked at you, his expression serious. “Then we protect it. Together.”

And in that moment, as the Astralis curled protectively around you both, you knew your journey with Kraven was far from over. The hunter had become your ally, your protector… and, perhaps, something more.

As you and Kraven deciphered the glyphs, they revealed the existence of a hidden sanctuary—a nexus point for the galaxy’s balance. The Astralis had been guarding the map to this sanctuary for millennia, ensuring that its location remained a secret. The sanctuary’s purpose, it seemed, was to regulate the flow of energy between star systems, maintaining harmony across the galaxy.

“If this falls into the wrong hands,” Kraven said, his voice grave, “it could tip the scales of power forever.”

“Then we can’t let that happen,” you replied, determination hardening your voice.

The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with danger and challenges you couldn’t yet imagine. But as you stood there, the Astralis beside you and Kraven at your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. Together, you would face the trials ahead, protect the sanctuary, and uncover the truths that had been hidden for eons.

For now, the hunter and the protector had become something more—partners in a quest that could shape the future of the galaxy itself.

Please support my work with like and comment

[shukraastro]

Vedic Astrology - Future Spouse Prediction:

Name Meaning part 2

In the 1st part of this series (which I will link below) I explained how you can check for the planet that is ruling the Nakshatra in which your 7th house lord in the D1 chart is placed in and how that planet and the next chaining Nakshatra lord planet can give you clues about the theme of you spouses name meaning. To demonstrate how this technique works I have taken Brad Pitt as an example in part 1 and have given you themes of Sun and Ketu. In this part I will give you some more celebrity examples and the themes of the other planets.

Justin Bieber

He has Taurus in the 7th house in his D1 chart, therefore it is ruled by Venus, so we look in which Nakshatra Venus is placed in. His 7th lord Venus is placed in Purva Bhadrapada Nakshatra which is ruled by Jupiter. Jupiter is the 1st planet we take note of. Next we look again in which Nakshatra Jupiter is placed in. His Jupiter is placed in Vishakha Nakshatra which is also ruled by Jupiter. So what this tells us is that the meaning of his spouse's names will revolve around the themes of Jupiter. Now let's look at the themes of Jupiter.

Jupiter: anything related to wisdom/spirituality, learning/teaching, philosophical/mythological tales/stories, various deities, nature/outdoors/wilderness, travel, adventure, optimism/boldness, luck, abundance/expansion, morality and many more...

If we look at the meanings behind the names of Hailey Bieber's full name before she was married, we can see the themes of Jupiter playing out.

Hailey Rhode Baldwin

Hailey in Irish means wise one

Rhode has various meanings which fall under various Jupiterian themes. One of them is clearing in the woods (nature themed). The other meaning is where roses grow (also nature themed). The other one is the Greek island Rhodes which has a Greek mythological story behind its name.

Baldwin means a bold and brave friend (boldness themed)

As we can see all three of her names fall under the Jupiter archetype.

More example: this time predictive ones

Jungkook

He has Gemini in the 7th house in his D1 chart, therefore the 7th lord is Mercury and we look at the Nakshatra where his Mercury is placed in. His 7th lord Mercury is in Purva Phalguni Nakshatra which is ruled by Venus. We take note of Venus as the 1st planet and look further in which Nakshatra his Venus is placed in. Venus is placed in Chitra Nakshatra which is ruled by Mars and we take Mars as his 2nd chaining Nakshatra planet. Now we look at the themes of these two planets.

Venus: anything related to love, beauty, aesthetics, feminity, romance, desire, pleasures, elegance, flowers, music, poetry, art, wealth, justice/fairness, balance and many more...

Mars: anything related to war (fighting/soldier/weapons/conquering/land/fire), anger, passion/motivation/aspiration, masculinity, strength, speed, support/protection, hero/savior, and many more...

The meanings of his future spouse's first, (middle) and last name could revolve around the themes of these two planets Venus and Mars.

Bangchan

He has Scorpio in the 7th house in his D1 chart, therefore the 7th lord is Mars and we look at the Nakshatra in which his Mars is placed in. His 7th lord Mars is in Anuradha Nakshatra which is ruled by Saturn. We take note of Saturn as the 1st planet and look further in which Nakshatra Saturn is placed in. His Saturn is placed in Revati Nakshatra which is ruled by Mercury, we take note of Mercury as the 2nd chaining Nakshatra planet. Now we look at the themes of these two planets.

Saturn: anything related to time, nostalgia, discipline, life lessons, karma, maturity, struggles/hardships, serving/servant, work/careers, limitations/restrictions/rules/laws, ink, metals (but gold and silver are mostly ruled by Sun and Moon still), icyness, stone, firmness and many more...

Mercury: anything related to words/numbers, speaking/writing, intellect/cleverness, colors/vibrancy/creativity, geometrical forms/shapes, petiteness/youthfulness, children, joyfulness, a message/information, skills/crafts and many more...

The meanings of his future spouse's first, (middle) and last name could revolve around the themes of these two planets Saturn and Mercury.

Mingyu

He has Sagittarius in the 7th house in his D1 chart, therefore the 7th lord is Jupiter and we look at the Nakshatra in which his Jupiter is placed in. His 7th lord Jupiter is in Shravana Nakshatra which is ruled by Moon. We take note of Moon as the 1st planet and look further in which Nakshatra Moon is placed in. His Moon is placed in Purva Bhadrapada Nakshatra which is ruled by Jupiter, we take note of Jupiter as the 2nd chaining Nakshatra planet. Now we look at the themes of Moon, because we already discussed Jupiter before.

Moon: anything related to the moon itself, emotions/feelings, water, purity, sparkling, night, dreams, wishes, intuition, healing, sensuality, nourishment/care, home/mother, motherliness, calmness and many more...

And Jupiter (see themes mentioned above)

The meanings of his future spouse's first, (middle) and last name could revolve around the themes of these two planets Moon and Jupiter.

Other planet's themes

Rahu: anything related to exoticness/foreigness, the sky, clouds/fog/smoke/shadow, heights, illusions, uniqueness/unconventionality, rebelliousness, taboo, fame, mystery and many more...

Also as for names with cardinal directions in their meanings:

Sun is East. Mars is South. Venus is West. Jupiter is North.

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

With that I have covered all the planets and their themes. Of course there is so much more to say for each planet but these are the ones in the overall frame so you can get an idea of what the names could be like. I hope this was informative and well explained.

Thanks for reading. See you soon.🌺

[inhurtandincomfort]

Forsaken - Cast

Eldwin Wisht, 22 (he/him)

(neka for top row, 1st art by @lovelizards 2nd by @ninjasylveon)

(also playlist)

5'4" with pale white skin, a slim build with silver eyes and mid-length black hair. A powerful sorcerer, member of the Black Syndicate, and a warlock, he has enemies on both sides of the law.

A gilded heart turned turned to stone. With his cold personality and reclusive nature, he struggles to let people in and will try to handle things on his own to his own detriment. He tends to repress his feelings to an unhealthy extent and partakes in dangerous coping mechanisms. However he feels, no matter the cost, he will do whatever it takes to get the job done.

Destrian Advyre, 24 (he/she/xe/they)

(1, 2)

5'7" with a lithe build. Has brown hair with a russet undertone xe wears in braids that fall almost to his knees, and brown eyes. He has gold-coloured horns and in his full dragonkin form has golden armour-like scales on some parts of his body, and huge dragon-like wings. However, this form is cumbersome and takes a lot of energy so is rarely used.

A sturdy pillar of hope. As a Cleric of Droden she spent time interning under the forest rangers where she learned many skills relating to wilderness survival. Empathetic and compassionate, she dedicates her life to others while neglecting her own wants and needs. She is deputy leader of the Armed Investigation Guild. (AIG)

Ancassius Lailicci, 20s (he/him)

(picrew)

6'3 with a strong, board build with hazel eyes and dyed-red hair that he keeps long, either loose or in a low ponytail. (His natural hair colour is brown). Curiously, he also appears to have slightly webbed fingers.

Part-selkie and the son of a sailor, his heart belongs to the sea. He calls himself a pirate but really is just a glorified treasure-hunter - with style. Boisterous and passionate, his good-nature helps him make friends wherever he goes. He hates people who treat others badly, and has been known to get into trouble because he won't stand by and let someone be taken advantage of, bearing the guilt of who he could not save and vowing to make up for it. He is the Captain of his own ship, with a loyal crew who are as devoted to him as he is to them.

Clyde Farewell, 34 (he/him)

(1, 2)

6'1" with white skin, short brown hair and blue eyes. Heir to the Farewell name and Underboss of the Black Syndicate.

A man used to getting what he wants. He alone made the decision to purchase Eldwin, and considers him his greatest prize. He is very possessive and dislikes when his father takes an interest in Eldwin, but cannot speak against the man who's word is law... and who controls his inheritance. He is a cruel and arrogant man, but knows how to turn on the charm when he needs to. He expects to take over the Black Syndicate someday, though Alistair believes he is unfit for the job.

He enjoys exerting his power over others and demands nothing less than perfection, creating mistakes where there are none.

Nels Barbary, 41 (he/him but also doesn't really care)

(picrew)

6'3 with a large, muscular build with white skin, brown eyes and rather unkempt blond hair. He has a large scar on his face, and one on his neck like someone once tried to slit his throat.

An ex-soldier turned Clyde's most trusted confidant. The man in charge of training Eldwin, he is a firm believer in cruel punishment and is harsh in his teachings. He's not someone who tortures for pleasure; He doesn't delight in it, but he won't lament over it either. He does like the feeling of control that comes with it, and finds satisfaction in his subjects personal growth. He's also a happily married father of three.

Alistair Farewell, 58 (he/him)

(picrew)

5'10" with white skin, blue eyes and greying-brown hair. Patriarch of the Farewell family and head of the Black Syndicate. A respected businessman and philanthropist. The public see him as a kind and generous man who receives commendations from politicians and even royalty.

But he's the leader of the Black Syndicate for a reason. He is level-headed, calculating and will do whatever it takes to achieve his goals. He wields great political influence and uses his financial power to turn things in his favour. He takes a different approach with Eldwin, seeing someone who can be manipulated rather than physically forced.

Jowan Bell, 21 (he/him)

(picrew)

5'5 with brown skin, black eyes and short, curly black hair. He rarely leaves his lab, his only passion being his experiments.

A remarkably young Doctor and scientist, he did not take formal education instead following the tutorage of his father, Doctor Bell who was a strict man who saw only flaws in his son. Jowan was a quiet child eager to please so he dedicated his life to following in the mans footsteps, proving to be a genius with a gift for medicine. Upon his fathers death, Jowan continued his work in attempting to harness the magical energy of living beings. His father worked with the Black Syndicate before and they readily took Jowan in as well as he proved he had all the skills they needed.

Once free from his fathers crushing gaze Jowan flourished, blooming into a cheerful, if a little unconventional young man who surpassed his fathers talents and succeeded where he could not. The Black Syndicate gave him a laboratory in the basement of one of their buildings and he became overseer for all Eldwin's medical care with orders/permission to use him as a test subject to complete their mission.

Mordwen, ??? (she/they)

(Picrew)

5,5. Long platinum hair, silver eyes and unnervingly pale skin. She appears to be an elf, but something's not quite right about her...

A new addition to the Black Syndicate, she didn't build up from the lower ranks instead starting straight up at the top where she answers to Clyde and Clyde alone. Even Alistair, despite being leader holds no actual authority over her.

A dark sorceress, she aids the Syndicate with her utilisation of dark healing and forbidden resurrection.

!This is a WIP and things may be subject to change!

[foursaints]

what random hobbies do you think rosekiller would have if any

i find that i think less about random hobbies and more on random PROFESSIONS..

how about some sort of charmingly quaint, tree-centric modern AU where barty is, like, an arborist? who quit working at his dad’s unethical law firm to instead smoke too much weed & wear oversized cargo shorts & carry around a nalgene with scooby doo stickers on it & generally do responsible arborist-things at a wilderness preservation park in the pacific northwest…

and evan can be. like. a botanist. who is FAR too invested in his local state fair competition and is maniacally trying to cross-breed a new variety of apple (with all the gusto of a mad scientist)…

[captaindanvers89]

Just thought of this crossover with YJ and HOTD. Imagine Rhaenyra is the volunteer coach of the Yellowjackets and is only because she’s waiting to take over the Targaryen company, her wife Alicent is working at a law firm in the city and Rhaenyra has a trust fund plus she’s bored.

So when the team make it to Nationals, Rhaenyra convinces Alicent to join them in Seattle because she’s using the private jet and Alicent needs a well deserved break.

But of course the plane crashes in the wilderness. Alicent panics and Rhaenyra tries to calm her down but Alicent is hysterical.

Then a twist happens, as time passes, Alicent starts to find her inner peace and Rhaenyra is in charge of a bunch of teenage girls including the homoerotic friendships.

I just think Rhaenyra being in charge of teenage girls would be funny cause she was a horrible teen and now she has to deal with them. And Alicent finally relaxes.

[her-reidiance]

I'm high and extremely emotional about Livinia Falcone (Penance) being the such a great complement and contrast to Margaret Nearl. It's like... so apparent. It had to be intentional or it's just a genius coincidence. This'll be long because I ramble, but please bear with me.

Like, first off,

I mean, you have the obvious white-black contrast in their outfits. You also have the contrast in their weapons, a nimble swordspear and a heavy hammer OF JUSTICE (and it might be cheating to mention that Nearl has long hair and Penance has short hair) (EDIT: I forgot her braid sorry), but then, then! You have the compliments! The glowing dagger in Nearl's hand, the codex in Penance's.

You also have like, the way their backstories complement each other in certain ways. Nearl was a competition knight, a hero to the masses and a symbol of safety and hope that was ultimately controlled by the interests of the bureaucracy. She was forced to leave her hometown, and live in the wilderness. Penance, on the other hand, is a judge. An enforcer of the law that supposedly keeps the people safe but was actually in the pocket of the Bellone famiglie. Despite doing everything she could, to believe in justice and try to uphold the law, she was shackled by her limitations especially to mafia affairs, even if she wasnt as tightly leashed by the Bellones and allowed to give guilty sentences sometimes. Both women were basically pawns to the powers that be in their countries, and it was an open secret that they weren't much more than that.

Where they differ is their outlook. Nearl's family motto, "Fear neither hardship nor darkness" lives through Margaret most visibly. She says it often, and she exemplifies what a platonic ideal of a knight would act like. She's noble, courageous, kind, she fights for what's right. She is uncompromising in her values but not close minded. It's beautiful and inspiring to see.

Penance is not so lucky. She's disillusioned. She has hope but it's faint and tricky. By the end of Il Siracusano she's ready to leave Siracusa behind and try to atone for her past inadequacy (hence her Operator name). She is a woman with honor that had to be compromised. She drinks, and apparently to blackout sometimes. Her codex, the toke of law she values so much, is literally bound in thorny vines and can in fact prick her. She's an idealist who had those ideals challenged, and while she didn't break, she did bend, and she has yet to recover.

Penance is the Tarnished Knight; a weapon of justice that was misused and as a result her faith in justice shaken, the hope that Don Bellone gave her in his final act a tenuous one and one that fosters complicated emotions. She fights for what's right, what's truly right this time, but she may never feel like she's cleansed herself of her previous wrongs. She fights for what she hopes is the right thing, for something to believe in. It's a realistic goal. She is beautifully tragic in that sense.

Nearl is the Radiant Knight; a symbol of hope that was discarded by her country and as a result found firm footing in her faith in the wilderness. She fights for what's right, affirmed in her beliefs by the Followers, by Rhodes Island. She fights for a better tomorrow, a very idealistic and optimistic outlook. It makes her all the more impossibly dazzling.

[rosywhims]

Lucinda Wilder ♡🍸 | 23 | San Myshuno

Traits: Cat Lover, Lavish, Perfectionist and Health Nut

Lucinda Marie Wilder, daughter of renowned celebrity lawyer Malcom Wilder and his wife Florence Wilder, always dreamed of moving to the big city to pursue her dream career as a lingerie model. Albeit to her parent's dismay, who would've preferred their daughter to continue her family ties to their law firm. Lucinda had bigger plans however, and upon turning 23 she decided to uproot from her quaint hometown of Brindleton Bay and settle in a luxury apartment in San Myshuno.

[toa-secretsanta]

thou shalt not (bear false witness) - for cecil

(tw for descriptions of violence against women)

“You’re a liar.”

“Am not.”

“Lying is a sin. You’ll be punished for it if you’re caught.”

The red rose instantly on Collin’s neck, splotching his cheeks in a way that highlighted his freckles, little dappled stars against the rough patchwork sky of his face. His face was often either red, or scrunched, or both when speaking with Poe - it was now.

“I am not!” he huffed, fingers curling into little fists at his side. “I said I saw a person down in the grotto just the other day, and I meant it!”

Poe sniffed delicately, hands splaying out to adjust the fall of her skirt. “The grown-ups would have known if there was a person down there, and they would have brought that person up to the light,” she replied, reasonably, which seemed to stoke Collin’s ire all the more.

“But what if he’s hurt?”

“Oh, so it isn’t merely a person, but a man?”

“I heard the moaning on the wind, wasn’t no voice I’d heard in the village!” he insisted, gesturing in the direction of the grotto. “I didn’t see him tumble down there, but I did see the flames go down and the stars dim the night before, so it must have been - ”

“Must have been what?” Poe’s eyes flashed as she turned toward him fully, lips tilting in a taunting smile. “You are adding rather a lot of details - ”

“I’m not lying! You go down there, you’ll see him! You’ll see I’m not lying!”

She would. Poe had never been the sort of girl who would simply take another at their word - she had legs that could move, eyes that could see, and the good sense to pick through the information presented to her in a manner that made most logical sense, that aligned with the laws of the universe. She was no fanciful child, not like Collin and his gang, always telling little tales to get the girls of the village to look at them with something amounting to interest - she was a firm hand and a dutiful heart.

What she was not, unfortunately, was any manner of athletic outdoors adventurer. Poe had gone along the paths to the Grotto of Her Gracious Reverie, had dipped her head to her clasped hands and felt the wind ruffle her hair and been told that this was the graciousness, this was the reverie, and that she should cherish and reflect on it until the next time she was taken there, but never had she dared dream that she might travel downward and set foot within.

The railed paths were there for the protection of all in the village. To step out of these bounds was to invite whatever punishment fell upon whoever was foolish enough to make the attempt.

She sighed gently, propping hands on her hips in thought for a moment, eyes seeking about the space for any safe ports of ingress downward into the caverns proper. The paths had not been designed for this, the area to be seen from a distance but not touched, the better to appreciate its holy splendor in the diffused light, but where there was a will…

Poe had oft been described as willful.

“Ah,” she murmured, ducking beneath a partition to move from civilized to wilderness, the earth crunching somewhat beneath her heel as she pressed forward to where the soil became loamy and soft, and for a moment she thought to herself well this is not so bad.

But what was soft would give, as she would learn time and away, and the earth gave way beneath her, shuttling her down past where the green stretched into the forest and to where the stone of the caverns yawned to greet her. She hissed at the scrape of rock against her skin, wiped her abraded hands on the torn white linen of her skirt, and the sound of her voice mingled gently with the wind and the overlapping harmony of another voice.

Squinting into the darkness, Poe saw the shape of him first, decidedly man-shaped, decidedly prone before her eyes adjusted and she was able to pick out the finer details.

He was breathing, for one.

He was looking directly at her, for two.

“Well,” she said primly, straightening as though she were not a right mess, her voice lilting somewhat with the slightest upward curve of her lips. “It seems at least that Collin was not entirely mistruthful.”

A grunt, though she could not have been certain if it was acknowledgement or discomfort. “Who’s Collin?”

“A boy from the village. Though would it not be rather more polite to ask who I am, since I am immediately before you?”

Another grunt, and this one she knew to be discomfort. “All right. Who are you?”

Her smile widened, creased at her eyes. “A girl from the village. But what is more important, I think, is who are you?”

She had drawn closer now, her eyes had adjusted to the oppressive dark of the cavern, and she could see him in his entirety - a ragged scrap of a man, in truth, abrasions and bruises blossoming a bouquet of red and purple and ah! that telltale mottled yellow which let her know that he must have been down here for quite some time.

But the whens were less interesting than the wherefores

The man grunted once more, and shifted, dragged himself to an approximation of upright, back against a stone which appeared to have been dragged there for that purpose. “Just a wanderer. Passing through. Got stranded by a fall - same as you, it seems.”

Poe’s smile widened. “Oh, I don’t believe that is true. You do not seem to have made your presence known - indeed, if Collin had not been spreading such stories, why, I believe none would have found you down here. Could it be that you did not wish to be found?”

There was a beat of silence when the man’s gaze settled on her, a mirror of hers on him - assessing, processing, both noticing in tandem that from where he sat currently, he could not reach her.

“Could be,” he admitted, slowly, now seeming to see her for the first time, the smile growing on his own lips as he spoke. “But what reason would I have for that? No, much more likely that I’m just some unfortunate sod, banged up by his own foolishness.”

“Then shall I tell my mother about you? Our elders? I’m certain they’d love to help a traveler in need.”

It was the same sensation, meeting his eyes, as holding a hand just above a candleflame, snapping one’s fingers to snuff it out before it scalded. She was not entirely certain what game was being played, but she had always been a canny child and a quick learner.

“You could,” he said, tilting his head and leaning forward just slightly. “You could tell everyone about me, could tell them that you’ve found a poor soul bruised and bloody and just in need of help and attention, and they’d come running, because you’re a town of sweet little hearts, aren’t you?”

She did not like the way his lips curled, she realized, did not like the odd timbre that his voice was beginning to take, the strange glint in his eyes in spite of the darkness of the cavern where they sat.

“But they won’t believe you, child.”

“Oh? And why would that be?”

Poe had not even noticed that he’d moved – or, not, he had not, had he? He had remained seated, and by all accounts should not have been able to reach across the space that separated them to brush against her, and yet she found his hand instantly nearer to her face, a single finger extended to press the button of her nose with a sly grin and a strange rush of wind.

When she had blinked, she found herself in exactly the same prim seated posture but once more on the loamy earth above the grotto, for all the world as though she had not taken her tumble and seen the strange figure in the caverns but for the rip of her skirts and the sting of her scraped knees.

Poe stood, hesitant, attempted to pat the cave dust from her shins, and that was when the vertigo hit, dropping her to her knees with a wave of disorientation and nausea.

//

“Look at the state of you!” her mother had cried, hands fluttering, distraught. Poe had not realized the extent of her excursion until she had stepped from the greenery of the forest surrounding the grotto and back onto the paved path back into the village, the warm lamplight in the streets and in her foyer coating her in a softened glow.

The stark contrast of her mother’s gaze shattered the illusion soundly, bringing the sting of her knees and the grit of mud on her hem into sharp relief.

“Apologies,” she demurred, allowing her mother to fret as she would, their waitstaff to hand with a change in shift, a basin of warm water, a soft cloth, a drink of cool spring water. Poe remained silent, eyes flicking over the gloved maid’s hands as they pressed ointment onto her scrapes, to her mother picking grass and leaves out of the weave of her skirt, agrouse of concern and complaint.

“Mother,” she said finally, “there was a man.”

“A what?” Her mother’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowing on the task of assessment, the fine fabric in her hands ruffling gently.

“A man. Down in the Grotto of Her Gracious Reverie.”

That stilled her hands, but only so long as to bring them down into her lap, dragging the lines of her face along with it. Her mother had always been pretty, all curves and light, but there was a dourness there, enhanced by the light and her disappointment as she settled her gaze heavily on Poe.

“No, Poe. There isn’t. And there is no skirt in the world worth you spilling mistruths at my feet.”

It was Poe’s turn to frown, and she pressed, “No, I mean it. I fell into - ”

“That’s enough. There’s no way to get in or out of the Grotto. You know that. I know you think you’ve gotten clever as you’ve grown, and you have, but your cleverness is no virtue in comparison to purity of spirit. Every lie from your lips stains you as badly as this grass on chiffon. Remember that.” A sigh, the sigh her mother had been letting escape more and more lately of things left unsaid for which she had not quilted the words together quite yet, and she shook her head. “Just go get yourself cleaned up for supper.”

It was clear from her mother’s tone that what she wanted to say was to drop the matter, to leave it behind and speak no more of it, and so Poe did just that: she spake of it no more.

However, she did dwell.

She dwelt on the swirling vertigo that had overtaken her, on the pitch in her gut when she instantaneously moved from one place to another with no recourse for her brain to connect the two other than knowing she had been in both. She dwelt on his choice of locale, the sanctuary promised by the innate privacy of such a place. She dwelt on that sly look on his face, the way the light had reflected in his eyes and all of the things that he had not said.

And her wherefores. She hadn’t gotten those yet.

But she was tenacious.

And she was clever.

Like a dog with a bone, she dug – methodically, not approaching that place in the forest for some time while she hunted about, asked the scholars of the village and those talented in arcana until they had given her enough of a trail to sniff out what she wanted to know, and to immerse herself in heartily.

Small things, trinkets, odds and ends moved about in safety, some tumbles nicking the hardwood of her floors, and some smaller still, granular and down to their basest level that had her mother wondering aloud when the blue soap washes had become so effective on such fragile textiles.

She gazed down at the grotto thoughtfully, and took a deep breath.

It wasn’t her first time moving something so large, but it was her first time moving herself, and though Poe had gotten the heady scent of victory in her nose with each successive progression in skill, there was something different when it was this close to her heart.

Ducking under the partition, she held her breath and took a step in -

 - and then out, the shock of the dark causing her to blink once, and for her lips to instantly curl upwards at the glint in the cavern.

“Well, hello again."  She did not immediately seat herself beside him, eyes creasing in a way that might have reflected her smile if it were any other face – her footsteps continued, a gentle half-moon around his form, less prone but still crumpled and scuffed. "I see that you are looking no better than you were before.”

A grunt, neither in discomfort nor dismissal, but amusement. “Been getting by. Crazy thing, haven’t had any other visitors since our chat. Must not have mentioned the strange man to dear mommy, huh?”

Her head cocked, as though shocked to hear it. “Hm. Poor dear. Perhaps I need to emphasize your charming disposition. They’ll come around, fear not. In the meantime, I hope that my company is sufficient, because you see, I had some questions. I’ve brought you tea, even.”

“Oh have you?”

“Indeed,” she confirmed, settling herself in a swirl of petticoats, flicking at the dust as though it made any matter before pouring from a travel flask for the both of them, steam curling upward like a sunbeam. “I don’t suppose that asking directly why you are here would yield results any different than our last conversation, however I did hope that you might perhaps explain why here.”

As though in demonstration, she gestured a delicate hand about the dimly lit space. For all that it was a holy space, revered and respected by all that Poe had ever known, it was quite frankly not an ideal place for convalescence.

Unless one wanted, quite specifically, to hide.

Unruffled in the slightest, he reached for the tea cup that she had placed, just out of his reach, chuffing a little laugh when she tugged it back farther and pinning her with a glance until she acquiesced and nudged it just a bit closer to him.

Blowing on the steam, he seemed to think about the question for a moment as he took as sip, before, with a hum, he said, “These views.”

“Oh! Merely a tourist, then? Come to see the splendor of our fair grotto? It isn’t quite as damp this time of year as it is in autumn, you have missed a real treat.” It was not that Poe disliked her hometown, it was merely that she was a realist in what it had to offer outsiders, and what it did not.

“You know what, though?” He seemed to be in a fair enough mood to humor her, which made it all the easier to seem interested in what he had to say.

It might have simply been her mind, wishing to reach, wishing to fill in gaps where there were none, but the lines of his face once more took on that sly quality, pinched around the eyes as he shifted where he was, turned to face her wholly.

“Prettier girls here than where I’m from. Friendlier, too, it seems.” That smile of his crept upward at an angle that struck Poe as viscerally displeasing, so she imitated it in kind, and he laughed. “Not that there are many left - ”

“Left? Oh, you don’t mean to tell me that yours is a tale of tragedy?” she added, pointed gaze assessing the myriad healing cuts and bruises - and now that she sat closer, there were bumps, his joints at odd angles which might have hinted at fractures, if she were not much mistaken.

“Oh, quite the tragedy,” he agreed, eager now, leaning forward. “Not all in one night, but over the course of, hell, must have been weeks - months! One by one, finding ‘em in the river - the girls, that is. Their pretty faces carved clean off.”

She had thought that she was steeled for whatever response he might have given, or at the very least incredulous, watchful of any nonsense, but she must have had a physical reaction, some reflexive instinct which caused him to bark a cackle at her.

“Oh, not many of them, only a couple dozen, only the best ones, only the ones whose mouths had laughed such pretty laughs.” Here, his eyes flicked down to her mouth, and he cackled again, this time louder.

It was at this point she realized that she was no longer smiling. She lifted the teacup to her mouth, but did not drink.

“Just a joke, of course! You do hear these horror stories, don’t you?”

He brought the cup to his lips and sipped, delicately, sighing in great relief as though it were the only thing he’d drank in days.

//

“Have you heard - ?”

“Shh, not around the children.”

“I know, it’s just - ”

“Poe, darling, I had ordered a few yards of silk and some thread, would you pop down to the shop to pick it up for me? To repair your skirt, from your little expedition. My little girl thinks she’s an adventurer now, did you know?”

If it was meant to chasten her, it fell short, and she simply inclined her head dutifully, not needing to hover long at the door to hear her mother’s friends pick up the thread just where they had left off, now that her tender ears were apparently not within range.

“ - All of them?”

“Not all of them, to hear it, but what was done to them was - ”

“Oh, don’t repeat it, I don’t want to hear. Ghastly! Could you imagine my Dove? Your Poe?”

A sigh, that familiar sigh, soft, as though there were words she wanted to say but had not yet been able to piece together the thought.

//

“You’ve become quite popular, did you know?”

This got his attention - not her entrance, because she had become rather good at simply appearing, had gotten used to the tilt of the world as she passed through it with greater speed, greater precision, greater confidence.

“Over here,” Poe supplied helpfully, crossing her arms across her stomach, near the mouth of the cavern. “My, you are recovering nicely, aren’t you? In no time you’ll have emerged from the dark of this little hovel you’ve created for yourself and walk amongst the living again. Perhaps you might even pay my village a visit. Would you like that?”

Though his lips canted, that sly smirk which was becoming so familiar to her, his eyes narrowed. It was a jab, of course - he was moving about, seated upright, and even coming to stand for moments at a time, but each tentative step forward resulted in a crumple to the ground and the whisper of wind which might have been a laugh if there had been a mouth for it.

“Oh, maybe I will. Maybe you’ll be the first I visit.”

“Wouldn’t that be kind of you,” she replied airily, taking long strides about the space he inhabited - another jab, easier to make. “After all of the time I’ve spent down here with you. Alas, I don’t believe our time is much longer.”

“No?” A sheen glimmered on the whites of his eyes, not quite curiosity, not quite the eagerness of a hound on hunt. “Getting tired of me?”

“I simply think that you might not be long for this world.” Another step, and another, deliberate presses of her heels into the dust of the cavern, a large and hollow circle about the entirety of the cavern - long strides, at first, but increasingly her steps became gentle, lighter, until she felt as though, for a moment, she was walking on the very air.

He did not have time to respond, each of the little portholes that she had left in her wake converging as one, swallowing great gulps of earth and stone hungrily as Poe sought out that face in the swirling of the dust, smile widening as she stepped back, felt the grip and pull of that strange vertigo until she heard birdsong and felt the crunch of loamy soil underneath her feet.

“But I did want to say goodbye, one final time. May the face of God greet you with all the grace you deserve.”

Later, when the village was in an uproar at the loss of their holy site, Poe vaguely heard the ladies at their gossip, some devout and pious and others less so. She heard them chitter and chatter about the scope of the damage, of the shape that it left not merely in the earth but in the paths their daily lives took, and she heard, idly, in passing, someone mention how fortunate it was that so much of the calamity had been contained, had merely sunk inward and compressed in on itself rather than grown like an imploding star.

And she could not deny the little thrill in her heart when she heard her mother say, “It must have been divine intervention.”

“Poe! Poe!” Collin shoved his way through the crowd to reach her, extended his hand until his fingers brushed against her sleeve. Urgency pinched at his face, and the red crept up, splotchy, in a way that highlighted his freckles. “Poe, he must have still been down - !”

“Darling?” her mother turned, flicked eyes from boy’s face to girl’s. “Poe, what is he talking about?”

“Nothing mother.” The reply fell easily from her tongue, and her face lit up brightly. “I don’t believe there’s anything down there. Be careful, Collin. Lying is a sin.”

[dailyanarchistposts]

F.3.1 Why is this disregard for equality important?

Simply because a disregard for equality soon ends with liberty for the majority being negated in many important ways. Most “anarcho”-capitalists and right-Libertarians deny (or at best ignore) market power. Rothbard, for example, claims that economic power does not exist under capitalism; what people call “economic power” is “simply the right under freedom to refuse to make an exchange” and so the concept is meaningless. [The Ethics of Liberty, p. 222]

However, the fact is that there are substantial power centres in society (and so are the source of hierarchical power and authoritarian social relations) which are not the state. As Elisee Reclus put it, the “power of kings and emperors has limits, but that of wealth has none at all. The dollar is the master of masters.” Thus wealth is a source of power as “the essential thing” under capitalism “is to train oneself to pursue monetary gain, with the goal of commanding others by means of the omnipotence of money. One’s power increases in direct proportion to one’s economic resources.” [quoted by John P. Clark and Camille Martin (eds.), Anarchy, Geography, Modernity, p. 95 and pp. 96–7] Thus the central fallacy of “anarcho”-capitalism is the (unstated) assumption that the various actors within an economy have relatively equal power. This assumption has been noted by many readers of their works. For example, Peter Marshall notes that ”‘anarcho-capitalists’ like Murray Rothbard assume individuals would have equal bargaining power in a [capitalist] market-based society.” [Demanding the Impossible, p. 46] George Walford also makes this point in his comments on David Friedman’s The Machinery of Freedom:

“The private ownership envisaged by the anarcho-capitalists would be very different from that which we know. It is hardly going too far to say that while the one is nasty, the other would be nice. In anarcho-capitalism there would be no National Insurance, no Social Security, no National Health Service and not even anything corresponding to the Poor Laws; there would be no public safety-nets at all. It would be a rigorously competitive society: work, beg or die. But as one reads on, learning that each individual would have to buy, personally, all goods and services needed, not only food, clothing and shelter but also education, medicine, sanitation, justice, police, all forms of security and insurance, even permission to use the streets (for these also would be privately owned), as one reads about all this a curious feature emerges: everybody always has enough money to buy all these things. “There are no public casualty wards or hospitals or hospices, but neither is there anybody dying in the streets. There is no public educational system but no uneducated children, no public police service but nobody unable to buy the services of an efficient security firm, no public law but nobody unable to buy the use of a private legal system. Neither is there anybody able to buy much more than anybody else; no person or group possesses economic power over others. “No explanation is offered. The anarcho-capitalists simply take it for granted that in their favoured society, although it possesses no machinery for restraining competition (for this would need to exercise authority over the competitors and it is an anarcho-capitalist society) competition would not be carried to the point where anybody actually suffered from it. While proclaiming their system to be a competitive one, in which private interest rules unchecked, they show it operating as a co-operative one, in which no person or group profits at the cost of another.” [On the Capitalist Anarchists]

This assumption of (relative) equality comes to the fore in Murray Rothbard’s “Homesteading” concept of property (discussed in section F.4.1). “Homesteading” paints a picture of individuals and families going into the wilderness to make a home for themselves, fighting against the elements and so forth. It does not invoke the idea of transnational corporations employing tens of thousands of people or a population without land, resources and selling their labour to others. Rothbard as noted argued that economic power does not exist (at least under capitalism, as we saw in section F.1 he does make — highly illogical — exceptions). Similarly, David Friedman’s example of a pro-death penalty and anti-death penalty “defence” firm coming to an agreement (see section F.6.3) implicitly assumes that the firms have equal bargaining powers and resources — if not, then the bargaining process would be very one-sided and the smaller company would think twice before taking on the larger one in battle (the likely outcome if they cannot come to an agreement on this issue) and so compromise.

However, the right-“libertarian” denial of market power is unsurprising. The “necessity, not the redundancy, of the assumption about natural equality is required “if the inherent problems of contract theory are not to become too obvious.” If some individuals are assumed to have significantly more power are more capable than others, and if they are always self-interested, then a contract that creates equal partners is impossible — the pact will establish an association of masters and servants. Needless to say, the strong will present the contract as being to the advantage of both: the strong no longer have to labour (and become rich, i.e. even stronger) and the weak receive an income and so do not starve. [Carole Pateman, The Sexual Contract, p. 61] So if freedom is considered as a function of ownership then it is very clear that individuals lacking property (outside their own body, of course) lose effective control over their own person and labour (which was, least we forget, the basis of their equal natural rights). When ones bargaining power is weak (which is typically the case in the labour market) exchanges tend to magnify inequalities of wealth and power over time rather than working towards an equalisation.

In other words, “contract” need not replace power if the bargaining position and wealth of the would-be contractors are not equal (for, if the bargainers had equal power it is doubtful they would agree to sell control of their liberty/labour to another). This means that “power” and “market” are not antithetical terms. While, in an abstract sense, all market relations are voluntary in practice this is not the case within a capitalist market. A large company has a comparative advantage over smaller ones, communities and individual workers which will definitely shape the outcome of any contract. For example, a large company or rich person will have access to more funds and so stretch out litigations and strikes until their opponents resources are exhausted. Or, if a company is polluting the environment, the local community may put up with the damage caused out of fear that the industry (which it depends upon) would relocate to another area. If members of the community did sue, then the company would be merely exercising its property rights when it threatened to move to another location. In such circumstances, the community would “freely” consent to its conditions or face massive economic and social disruption. And, similarly, “the landlords’ agents who threatened to discharge agricultural workers and tenants who failed to vote the reactionary ticket” in the 1936 Spanish election were just exercising their legitimate property rights when they threatened working people and their families with economic uncertainty and distress. [Murray Bookchin, The Spanish Anarchists, p. 260]

If we take the labour market, it is clear that the “buyers” and “sellers” of labour power are rarely on an equal footing (if they were, then capitalism would soon go into crisis — see section C.7). As we stressed in section C.9, under capitalism competition in labour markets is typically skewed in favour of employers. Thus the ability to refuse an exchange weighs most heavily on one class than another and so ensures that “free exchange” works to ensure the domination (and so exploitation) of one by the other. Inequality in the market ensures that the decisions of the majority of people within it are shaped in accordance with that needs of the powerful, not the needs of all. It was for this reason, for example, that the Individual Anarchist J.K. Ingalls opposed Henry George’s proposal of nationalising the land. Ingalls was well aware that the rich could outbid the poor for leases on land and so the dispossession of the working class would continue.

The market, therefore, does not end power or unfreedom — they are still there, but in different forms. And for an exchange to be truly voluntary, both parties must have equal power to accept, reject, or influence its terms. Unfortunately, these conditions are rarely meet on the labour market or within the capitalist market in general. Thus Rothbard’s argument that economic power does not exist fails to acknowledge that the rich can out-bid the poor for resources and that a corporation generally has greater ability to refuse a contract (with an individual, union or community) than vice versa (and that the impact of such a refusal is such that it will encourage the others involved to compromise far sooner). In such circumstances, formally free individuals will have to “consent” to be unfree in order to survive. Looking at the tread-mill of modern capitalism, at what we end up tolerating for the sake of earning enough money to survive it comes as no surprise that anarchists have asked whether the market is serving us or are we serving it (and, of course, those who have positions of power within it).

So inequality cannot be easily dismissed. As Max Stirner pointed out, free competition “is not ‘free,’ because I lack the things for competition.” Due to this basic inequality of wealth (of “things”) we find that ”[u]nder the regime of the commonality the labourers always fall into the hands of the possessors … of the capitalists, therefore. The labourer cannot realise on his labour to the extent of the value that it has for the customer … The capitalist has the greatest profit from it.” [The Ego and Its Own, p. 262 and p. 115] It is interesting to note that even Stirner recognised that capitalism results in exploitation and that its roots lie in inequalities in property and so power. And we may add that value the labourer does not “realise” goes into the hands of the capitalists, who invest it in more “things” and which consolidates and increases their advantage in “free” competition. To quote Stephan L. Newman:

“Another disquieting aspect of the libertarians’ refusal to acknowledge power in the market is their failure to confront the tension between freedom and autonomy… Wage labour under capitalism is, of course, formally free labour. No one is forced to work at gun point. Economic circumstance, however, often has the effect of force; it compels the relatively poor to accept work under conditions dictated by owners and managers. The individual worker retains freedom [i.e. negative liberty] but loses autonomy [positive liberty].” [Liberalism at Wit’s End, pp. 122–123]

If we consider “equality before the law” it is obvious that this also has limitations in an (materially) unequal society. Brian Morris notes that for Ayn Rand, ”[u]nder capitalism … politics (state) and economics (capitalism) are separated … This, of course, is pure ideology, for Rand’s justification of the state is that it ‘protects’ private property, that is, it supports and upholds the economic power of capitalists by coercive means.” [Ecology & Anarchism, p. 189] The same can be said of “anarcho”-capitalism and its “protection agencies” and “general libertarian law code.” If within a society a few own all the resources and the majority are dispossessed, then any law code which protects private property automatically empowers the owning class. Workers will always be initiating force if they rebel against their bosses or act against the code and so equality before the law” reflects and reinforces inequality of power and wealth. This means that a system of property rights protects the liberties of some people in a way which gives them an unacceptable degree of power over others. And this critique cannot be met merely by reaffirming the rights in question, we have to assess the relative importance of the various kinds of liberty and other values we hold dear.

Therefore right-“libertarian” disregard for equality is important because it allows “anarcho”-capitalism to ignore many important restrictions of freedom in society. In addition, it allows them to brush over the negative effects of their system by painting an unreal picture of a capitalist society without vast extremes of wealth and power (indeed, they often construe capitalist society in terms of an ideal — namely artisan production — that is pre-capitalist and whose social basis has been eroded by capitalist development). Inequality shapes the decisions we have available and what ones we make:

“An ‘incentive’ is always available in conditions of substantial social inequality that ensure that the ‘weak’ enter into a contract. When social inequality prevails, questions arise about what counts as voluntary entry into a contract. This is why socialists and feminists have focused on the conditions of entry into the employment contract and the marriage contract. Men and women … are now juridically free and equal citizens, but, in unequal social conditions, the possibility cannot be ruled out that some or many contracts create relationships that bear uncomfortable resemblances to a slave contract.” [Carole Pateman, Op. Cit., p. 62]

This ideological confusion of right-libertarianism can also be seen from their opposition to taxation. On the one hand, they argue that taxation is wrong because it takes money from those who “earn” it and gives it to the poor. On the other hand, “free market” capitalism is assumed to be a more equal society! If taxation takes from the rich and gives to the poor, how will “anarcho”-capitalism be more egalitarian? That equalisation mechanism would be gone (of course, it could be claimed that all great riches are purely the result of state intervention skewing the “free market” but that places all their “rags to riches” stories in a strange position). Thus we have a problem: either we have relative equality or we do not. Either we have riches, and so market power, or we do not. And its clear from the likes of Rothbard, “anarcho”-capitalism will not be without its millionaires (there is, according to him, apparently nothing un-libertarian about “hierarchy, wage-work, granting of funds by libertarian millionaires, and a libertarian party” [quoted by Black, Op. Cit., p. 142]). And so we are left with market power and so extensive unfreedom.

Thus, for a ideology that denounces egalitarianism as a “revolt against nature” it is pretty funny that they paint a picture of “anarcho”-capitalism as a society of (relative) equals. In other words, their propaganda is based on something that has never existed, and never will: an egalitarian capitalist society. Without the implicit assumption of equality which underlies their rhetoric then the obvious limitations of their vision of “liberty” become too obvious. Any real laissez-faire capitalism would be unequal and “those who have wealth and power would only increase their privileges, while the weak and poor would go to the wall … Right-wing libertarians merely want freedom for themselves to protect their privileges and to exploit others.” [Peter Marshall, Op. Cit., p. 653]

[thegood-thebad-andtheundead]

The story of Henry Morgan

Born Henry Fitzwilliam Blackburn, 1832

Dear Henry was born to an affluent family in London. His father, Lord Charles Blackburn, was a judge well known for his firm hand against criminals. His mother, Helena, was gracious and kind.

Henry was always a wild child, never enjoying the quiet politeness of society. He would often read books of heros and adventures to escape- his favourite being pirates, the notorious Captain Henry Morgan in particular.

1. As he grew up he was put forward to study law, but still stow away to London's slums in the night where he indulged his wilder notions in sex, drink, gambling and fighting.

2. One night, after cheating at cards (go figure), Henry was badly beaten in the street. When he returned home, drunk and with a gashed open head, his father finally had enough of his debauchery and disowned him, forcing Henry out of the Blackburn house forever. Disoriented, Henry walked the streets till he came upon a vampire.

3. Henry wasn't sure what happened to the woman he saw before the world went black, but he knew he was different and something wasn't right with him anymore. It took the fledgling vampire a few days to realise exactly what had happened to him.

4. Five years later, Henry had constructed an entirely new life. Now leader of a street gang, Henry ruthlessly kept watch over his turf of Whitechapel. Henry's lot was known for stealing off the rich, which he would put back into the comfort of the poor he looked after. Favouring the docks, and with his new name, Henry "Morgan," the vampire became known as the 'Pirate of Whitechapel! He was considered by his own to be a good man. The people were better off and enjoyed plenty of merry nights of music, drink, and fights to entertain. But to his enemies? Henry was a bloodthirsty killer, one that rarely left room for mercy.

5. Henry had a habit of public speaking. With a silver tongue he would easily rile up his men's spirits, and the people of Whitechapel, often able to manipulate them out of his own charisma and one good speech. It was useful when he expected big risks for his own gains.

6. The vampire then started getting greedy. One particular rival seemed to be taking in a lot more goods through the docks and soon enough the raids on the warehouses and ships became so brutal and frequent, Henry's rivals couldn't ignore it.

7. It didn't take long to learn that the particular gang our dear Henry had chosen to pester was merely a front for something far larger. A coven of old world vampires, their resources and numbers far outweighing his. The Rosebourne twins, two vampiress with wicked smiles, were at its head. And to Henry's shock, one of them was the very one who turned him. They had grown frustrated with his father, and the crackdown upon their criminal empire, so had decided to take away his own son. When the sister, Cecilia, learned Henry had been disowned she instead decided to turn him, thinking he would make a fine pet. Now, five years later, she offered him a place with her- with power and blood- and Henry could only promptly tell her to fuck right off.

8. The raids and pushbacks escalated, and finally Henry gave in to his more wicked temptations. He and his men raided and killed and burned the Rosebourne docks and warehouses to the ground, the fire quickly spreading up the street. The twins lost many of their men and goods and immediately readied themselves for revenge. All the while, The Pirate of Whitechapel gleefully played his violin from across the Thames, basking in the glow of his work.

9. Not many days after, the fire still raging on the other side of the river, Henry walked into his home only to find a ring on his table. His father's Blackburn crest ring, covered in blood. He raced to his old family home finding his dear mother dead and drained, and his father dying in a corner. Lord Blackburn cursed Henry, blaming him for it all, then too passed on. Cecilia had killed them both.

10. While Henry had gone after his parents, the other Rosebourne twin (Charlotte) took what was left of her coven and attacked Whitechapel. Many perished in the slaughter, and some were made into vampires to help rebuild the coven. Henry was devastated as he walked the streets, seeing what all his greed had brought his people. His friend, Londe Connors, arrived and told him he needed to run. Londe worked for a syndicate called Omega that sought to maintain order between humans and inhumans- and despite all their warnings so many now died due to Henry's decisions. It marked him for death and soon their hunters would come calling and chase him to the ends of the world.

11. Henry had one thing he needed to do- he needed his own vengeance against Cecilia Roebourne. He confronted her, drawing his sword cane, though it did little against her. It was only when he used its broken wooden sheath and thrust it through her heart that he finally defeated the vampiress.

12. Now with Omega's hunter's at his back, and Charlotte Rosebourne seeking revenge for her fallen sister, Henry was left with no choice to to leave England. He sailed to New York and worked his was across the country, narrowly evading capture everywhere he turned. He will spend his days running, all the ghosts of his past right at his heels, come to deliver their retribution.

All art by @lcmccomics

[dragonologist-writings]

Title: Crown of Fire Fandom: Pillars of Eternity Rating: G Status: One-Shot Characters: Original Character (Nona) Additional Notes: Backstory for TTRPG Character, Family Drama & Betrayal, Leaden Key Recruitment Word Count: 1200 Summary: “You have been praying for justice, haven’t you? We are the true followers of Woedica. Justice is what we deliver.”

read below or here on AO3

State your name and purpose.

My name belongs to the gods and my hand to their service.

Even as a child, Nona spends many of her days in the temple. At first she is taken there by her mother, along with her baby sister Decima, as they go to visit her father while he works. But even as time passes, after her mother stops taking her (after Mother is gone), Nona still finds herself returning of her own accord.

It's a wondrous place, with grandiose architecture, chants that feel like magic, books and words and history memorialized in long rows of heavy tomes. More than that, the place carries a sense of belonging, of certainty, of rightness, and though at her young age she doesn’t quite yet have the words to express it, Nona feels it all the same.

Her father encourages her interest, of course.

“Would you like to become a priestess one day, Nona?” he asks with a smile. “You could lead the temple and help the erl in court, like I do. It’s a lot of work, of course, and you’ll have to study hard. But the priesthood runs in our family. It could be your calling just as it was mine.”

And Nona looks up with wide eyes at the crowned statue of Woedica, so resplendent and wise. Once again she feels that belonging, that certainty, that rightness, and she eagerly nods in assent.

What company do you seek?

I seek the company of shadows, that our labors may remain secret.

Nona knows what the papers say. She knows what they mean. But still she checks her work, over and over again, until she can no longer deny the truth.

Her father doesn’t believe her at first. “The erl would not be involved in such things,” he insists, but Nona shows him her research, all carefully documented and organized. It’s all there, undeniable proof of her suspicions and accusations.

Corruption. Deception. Even animancy experiments, the kind that have been outlawed in Aedyr for decades. Nona doesn’t know exactly how long it’s been going on, but it’s clear that the erl is using any means he has to collect a very forbidden type of power. More than that, it’s clear he has no intention of stopping, no matter how many of the gods' laws he breaks along the way.

It is the type thing the Church of Woedica simply cannot stand.

“Let me take care of this,” her father says. When Nona tries to protest, he stands firm. “You do not have the authority to convince the court of such things. I do. My voice will not be ignored. I will see that the right thing is done.”

And Nona, fool that she is, believes him.

Tell me of your labors.

To see that the craft of kith and wilder does not disturb what bones the gods have buried.

Nona knows everything has gone wrong when the guards come for her.

She does her best to keep calm, even as she hears the temple-goers whisper loudly, even as she sees Decima’s terrified face in the crowd. She tells herself that this is a simple mistake, and that her father will ensure everything is sorted out.

But her father only watches, stone-faced, as the erl reads out the charges of treason. And when the charges have been read, it is her father who declares her guilty.

“He is protecting you,” Decima tells her later, in the short time they have together before Nona must leave the city for good. “Had he done nothing, you would be facing execution rather than exile.”

She says this as if it is a good thing, and Nona has never felt such anger in all her life.

How do we know your purpose?

You shall know it by the confession of my tongue, the deeds of my hand, and the oath on my soul.

When the cloaked figures appear, Nona wonders for a moment if someone has finally been sent to kill her.

But the leader of the group, a woman with a stoic voice and sharp eyes, only smiles at her. “We’ve heard tale of a city,” she explains, “where a man rules through corruption and taints the land with animancy. We have heard of a Woedican priest who ignores his duties to The Queen That Was. And we have heard of you.”

Nona can only stare, speechless, and the woman’s smile widens. “You have been praying for justice, haven’t you? We are the true followers of Woedica. Justice is what we deliver.”

And how is your oath guarded?

“What are you going to do now?”

Nona is startled by the question, and by the reappearance of the hooded woman that she’d assumed would be gone by now. Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised- they are standing in Woedica’s temple, after all. Where else would Her servants be?

“I don’t know,” Nona answers honestly, and tries not to show just how much that answer scares her.

“Are you not planning on returning to your place here?”

“Here?” Nona laughs, but there is no humor in her tone. “There’s nothing for me here. Everybody in this city either still believes the lies or hates me for revealing the truth.”

The words leave a bitter taste in Nona’s mouth, but they cannot be denied. Nobody wants her here. Even her sister- (and she thought Des, of all people, would understand, would always be on her side)- even her sister is furious at her for destroying the façade of respectability her father had built.

But Nona destroyed it anyway. At the very least, she helped. And now, because of her and these strange agents, the erl is dead and his followers have fallen with him. Some had attempted a surrender, had begged for mercy, but there is little mercy to be found in The  Burned Queen's justice. Nona does not claim happiness at this, but there is a catharsis in knowing that the scales have finally been evened.

(Father had fallen to his knees, had been one of the men to beg, and that was when Nona knew he had never been worth of a place here.)

Lost in thought, Nona nearly forgets the other woman’s presence until, after a long moment, she says, “Come with us.”

Nona looks at her, surprised and slightly alarmed. “With you? Where?”

“Wherever we are needed,” the woman answers simply. Her eyes continue to study Nona as she speaks, although she never loses her steady tone. “The Queen always has a place for those who serve her well, and you have proven your faith.”

Nona opens her mouth to answer, but before she can speak the woman holds up a hand in warning. “Be aware- this is not a responsibility to take lightly. This life is difficult, and dangerous. There are many places that do not accept the worship of our Queen, let alone our work for her. If you are to do this, you must be certain.”

Nona takes a moment, and thinks about what she will be leaving behind, and what has already been lost, and whether it will be worth it to keep walking down this path. She does not need long to find the answer. “I am certain.”

It is sealed by the Leaden Key.

[lesbiandarvey]

could donna and harvey do iconic sports night fics

sorry this post is just for me dont worry about it

a form in wax: yes yes yes!!!! literally a form in wax is basically season 5 of suits -> danny leaving for la triggering casey’s problems with his father and going to therapy about it… so like donna leaves and goes to work for louis harvey starts having panic attacks and seeing paula about it to talk about his shitty relationship with his mother and it ends with him going to donnas’ friends art gallery opening and saying what do i want from you? i figured it out. i finally fucking figured it out… i want you to marry me

small town: yes! oh fuck yeah okay thomas would be the bobby bernstein so like donna and harvey have lived together as roommates for years in a small town in nova scotia working at a boutique law firm when thomas comes back into donnas life and asks her to come work with him -> the “im leaving you harvey” moment is her going to work with thomas and harvey freaks out

like sailing and home runs: ohhhhh okay ohmygod so in this harvey is the danny character. so his mom has a heart attack and his has to run to boston despite not speaking to her for years and right before he leaves he kisses donna in his office cus shes good and he needs just a little bit of that goodness in his life and then pulls back and leaves. and hes in the hospital all day surrounded by his dysfunctional family trying to make it through the fucking day and donna follows him to boston cus she knows he needs her. and she’s waiting in his hotel room after and he kisses her and things are happening and then he has a panic attack cus its just too much all at once and he calls paula saying “guy freaks out after kissing his best friend after his mom almost dies. not exactly the best romance novel of all time” and then the rest of the fic is harvey working through his guilt over kissing donna and how angry he is with his mother and how donna says that she thought… she thought that when harvey kissed her in new york she thought it meant he was ready and he wanted her to follow him and then they have That conversation im not explaining it well but its good in the fic

first base: OOOHHHH . i dont know??? maybe! maybe… like donna and harvey have this Thing in their 20s this half affair thing oh okay i think harvey is the danny here? where donnas married to . NO WAIT donna and harvey are the SECOND HALF of first base and CAMERON and harvey are the first half dancing in the kitchen in the refrigerator light and it messes him up for a long time until he finally is ready to be with someone again and he and donna finally get together after years and then get married like a week later. ok okay so the scarf moment is like right after he leaves cameron, he goes to donnas place and they spend the night together and he accidentally left his tie there and she kept it this whole time

even sugar peas run of out snap: no sorry . sugar peas really has to be two men. maybe maaaaybe if donna and harvey were lesbians in 1999 they could do sugar peas but also the whole point of sugar peas is that it ends in tragedy and darvey is about the fact they fall in love for the last time and its permanent. plus like the whole thing about sugar peas is about their role as Performers as Guys On Television like they have to be famous and closeted so donnaharvey doesn’t really work

whats that one called thats from january 1999 and its the first ever recorded dancasey fic where they sleep together in the office and wake up the next morning on the couch together and have to spend the rest of the day trying to figure out what to do next…. no i dont think donna and harvey would do that. its less fun when its about a guy and his secretary in the office together than two men who are partners. altho i am thinking now how crazy it would be if 8x16 happened in the office rather than her apartment. like it would be bad obviously but still i am thinking about it

WAIT VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS CATWALKSALONE how could i have forgotten voice in the wilderness but i dont think donnaharvey could do voice in the wilderness cus the whole point is about dan getting over his internalized homophobia BUT! catwalksalones other fic i love dearly is the chutes and ladders fic where “that night in minneapolis with the jäegermeister” they slept together and never mentioned it again and dan ever since has wondered about that and how everytime they get close it ends with casey pulling away -> so like after that night in the other time donna has always wondered what could have happened and how every time she and harvey get close to Something happening harvey pulls away and donna is desperately trying to figure out what the fuck is going on

[portlandnet]

Congratulations to Amanda Westervelt! We are happy to announce that Amanda has accepted a promotion at PBEM. Here are the details from our director, Shad Ahmed:

I wanted to share some exciting news. Our own Amanda Westervelt—an attorney by training and an emergency manager at heart—rose to the top of a national open recruitment process and was selected for the recent Emergency Management Program Manager position at PBEM. A testament to her professional and personal dedication, Amanda began her time at PBEM as a NET volunteer, and leapt through the ranks, not only vertically, but also horizontally in roles across bureau programs. This required her to tackle new skills and program areas at every turn. She has yet to encounter a challenge she cannot navigate.

In this new role, she will join the PBEM Program Managers'  team, as we continue supporting critical functions in an evolving mission. Most recently, she successfully helped conduct an exercise with over 70 partners from across federal, state, and local jurisdictions in an extremely short turnaround time. She is continuing to support the City's involvement in the national IronOR exercise, as well as taking on numerous other projects in areas such as the Duty Officer program and EOC operations.

Amanda's bio: Amanda Westervelt joined PBEM in 2021 after careers in biochemistry and then law, where she was the managing attorney for a satellite office of a multi-state firm. She grew up in rural Oklahoma, and ultimately moved to Portland in 2010, spending time at home to bring two beautiful children into the world and co-lead a very active Girl Scout troop. Amanda discovered emergency management through PBEM’s Neighborhood Emergency Team program and founded an advanced training event called NETCamp in 2019, the same year she joined the Oregon State Bar. When COVID hit, she was starting her own law firm, and pivoted instead to help run the Portland Mask Project and the NET Vaccine Access Project for PBEM and the Portland COVID response effort. Amanda has been certified as a hazardous materials technician, an EMT, and is currently a wilderness first responder and is certified to instruct a variety of first aid classes through HSI and emergency management classes through the State. Amanda has an undergraduate degree in biology from Cornell University, a juris doctor from Wake Forest University’s School of Law, and is working on her Master Exercise Practitioner credential from FEMA’s National Disaster and Emergency Management University.

Please join us in congratulating Amanda on her new role and please feel free to pass this message on!