#as always with our ****** luck all of this is very prone to going out the window

[imaginespazzi]

I know it's W season so you're brain's busy with that but I don't think you've shared your starting lineup predictions for UConn for next year and I was curious to know what your thoughts were? Do you think Azzi will start to begin the season and do you Aubrey will eventually start? Also any thoughts on minutes distribution? We have a lot of players but I can't imagine they'll get playing time.

It's always hard to predict injury recovery timelines. But from what we've heard about Azzi so far, she's ahead of schedule, so it's very possible that she will be ready to start the season. If she is, I could see her being in the starting lineup on a minutes restriction.

If that's the case, I'd assume the lineup would be: Kaitlyn - Azzi - Paige - Sarah - Jana

If Azzi's not ready then probably: Kaitlyn - Ash - Paige - Sarah - Jana

Could Ice start over Sarah? Maybe but she's gonna have to take a jump this season. Kaitlyn and Paige are locks to start. Jana, I'm like 80% sure unless there's something related to her recovery as well.

I think whether or not Aubrey makes it back into the starting lineup is gonna depend on a lot of things. When she gets back to playing is obviously a big one but it also depends on how everyone else is doing at this point. Geno is not gonna shake up a lineup that's doing well and at that point who would you replace for Aubrey but she's very valuable off the bench.

As for minutes distribution, all the front-court players (Ice/Jana/Sarah/Ayanna/Aubrey) will see solid minutes I think. The back court is where some people might miss out on minutes unfortunately because a) we have a ton of gaurds and b) grandpa can be stubborn about what he likes. I presume the minute distribution will be pretty even in Big East play but in non-conference games, I could see some backcourt players not seeing the court or getting 2/3 minutes playing time.

[housethemd]

Did Anybody Ask For My Personal Opinion On Who Wilson’s Other Brother Is? On The Larger Wilson Family Structure? On Wilson’s Life Before He Met House?

No? Okay perfect.

The oldest is David Wilson. He’s 4-5 years older than James. He was always smart, and received a lot of praise for all his success. He is a lawyer, and is married with two children. He married young, which thrilled his parents.

Then there is Danny Wilson. I assume Danny is short for Daniel. He is 2 years younger than James. He was always kind of a loner, and while James and Danny did play together as very young kids, the older Danny got the less he had any interest in playing with others, including James. He was prone to getting distracted or overwhelmed in public places and James was always the one to make sure he stayed safe. His parents were always at a loss with what to do with him, but James always seemed to understand him.

Then of course our beloved James Wilson. Middle child, living in the shadow of his older brother and his younger brothers keeper. His successes were never celebrated the way David’s were, because even if he got straight A’s (which he did) David always did it first, and his family seemed to find things less impressive the second time around.

Forced to grow up early to care for his younger brother, he had a hard time relating to kids his own age so he spent a lot of time at home watching movies and TV. He did extracurriculars through his school when he got to high school to pad his resume (he already knew he wanted to go to med school) and while everyone liked him, he didn’t have any close friends.

He learns how to become what people want him to be. How to cater to their needs. He spends his whole life being what everyone else needs him to be.

The first time he strays from that is when Danny calls while he’s in med school studying for that big exam. He hangs up on him, and then Danny goes missing. His family doesn’t understand how he could hang up on his brother like that, why he would do that, they think it’s so out of character for him.

He meets Sam, and desperately wanting to get back in his family’s good books he marries her quickly. He wants to follow in his older brothers footsteps, do what you are supposed to do, want what you are supposed to want. So he marries Sam.

Two years later they are getting divorced. He gets the papers right before a medical conference. He carries them around, without the will to open them. He hasn’t told his family yet.

Someone keeps playing “Leave a Tender Moment Alone” on the jukebox. He asks nicely for them to stop, he really does, he tries to be the bigger person, to keep to the persona that he only dropped once because last time he dropped it he lost his brother, but he can’t. He’s pissed off by the song, but more so he’s pissed off that his persona means he can’t do anything about it, why does everyone need him to be so nice all the time? Care about their problems? What about him? He’s a person too, what about his problems?

And the anger boils over. He throws a bottle, breaks a mirror, and gets arrested. He’s sitting in a jail cell, trying to figure out how he’s going to tell his family that not only is he getting divorced but he’s gotten arrested and feeling like he has the worst luck in the world when a police officer comes in and says a friend is bailing him out. He’s confused, he doesn’t have friends.

Outside the jail, he meets Gregory House.

For the first time someone sees past the persona. No matter what he does House always sees past it, to the person he really is. The person he convinced himself no one would like.

For the first time, he has a real friend.

[askdeoxys]

[intro] [pt1+rules] [pt2] [pt3]

COMMUNITY EVENT

THE DEATH OF DEOXYS

Deoxys crumbled to the ground-- the strike so loud, so loathing that it shook the very foundations of the little home. Sprawled like a limp puppet, Deoxys had to come to terms that the day had finally arrived like he always dreaded. He couldn’t run anymore. 

Dioxys stood above him, fists tightened so harshly that, had he normal skin, it would have torn from the sheer force. Despite the fact that Deo had answered correctly.. and truthfully.., the answer ended his calm demeanor. The rage he tried to let simmer bubbled out of him as his Psychic Well vibrated the ground around the duo. How dare Deoxys. 

“It’s funny, don’t you think?” Dioxys started as he took several steps toward the prone virus, “If your friends were to stumble upon me.., they would think me a monster. Who would dare hurt the small alien? What wrong had he ever done? Deo only ever helped people, didn’t he?” Dioxys asked mockingly, “If our tale was read from any other perspective, you would be the monster. Not me.”

Above the prone alien, Dioxys raised his foot and brought it down with an impact that shattered the ground below Deoxys-- though his shell managed to hold together against the stomp. Dioxys scoffed. “Yet, you left me behind those empty walls.” The intruder twitched. His emotions came to the forefront. 

With a step back, Dioxys issued a command:

Deoxys laid there in this puddle of nightmares. He deserved this. He didn’t fight back, and he accepted this. Deoxys knew it was the right thing to do.

Dioxys, however, was uncontent. The damage was superficial. He had hoped physically hurting Deo would have made him feel better, but it only caused him to get more upset. “Why, Deo? WHY?” The intruder screamed before landing a kick that sent the orange virus across the room. 

With a crash through the wall, Deoxys crumpled into the next room over. He was so disorientated that he wasn’t even sure which room it was. 

“I..,” Dioxys stepped into the new room, fists rested by his sides, “Why do you continue this? Why do you do this to me, Deo? You won’t let me rest-- you won’t let me exist. You haunt my nightmares, and you get to be happy? Make it make sense, Deo.” Deoxys glanced up, and he saw that the intruder stood above him with a gaze down. Deoxys looked away. “I don’t know what to say, D’.”

“No, you sure don’t,” Dioxys said with a sigh as he kneeled down into a squat, “Listen.., I think there’s only one way to truly go about this. After everything you’ve done.., you owe me this. Finish this for me. Destroy your own orb,” he said lowly, “Die, Deo. Do that for me.”

-

[ This is post 1 of 10. There is a secret condition that, when met, will save Deoxys. If the condition is not met by the end of these 10 posts, Deoxys will die, and askdeoxys will officially come to a close. ]

[ Rules & FAQ under the read more: ]

Rules:

Every odd-numbered post, I will give you a hint as to what the secret condition that will save Deoxys is. Currently, I am sure you are unsure what you have to do or how to do it. Until the hints begin to drop, good luck.

The only thing I can tell you what WON'T work is, 'My character is GOD. They save Deo!' Unfortunately for you (and for the purposes of this event), Dioxys is SUPER-GOD. That will not work.

FAQ:

'Are you serious? If we fail this event, Deoxys really dies?'

Yep. That would be it for him.

'I don't believe that. Askblog characters never really die/People change their mind all the time!'

Good for you, I guess?

Will the askblog continue if Deoxys dies?

For all intents and purposes, if we lose the event, I am retiring from askblogging (as funny as that sounds).

Will you start a new askblog?

No.

Why are you doing this? Why would you end askdeoxys?

I'm going to find out if I'm really alive.

-

Thank you.

Good luck.

Stay frosty.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

A Tale for A Mouse

Oh, look who’s here! A measly mouse of a mortal. Have you come looking for a story, little mouse? Have you come sniffing around for crumbs? Have you come seeking wisdom from the man who cheated the greatest warrior in existence, the one who took control of the most powerful empire with nothing but his wits and daring, the one and only Spirit Emperor?

Well, you're in luck, because I happen to be in a storytelling mood today. No head-chopping for old Hans-el tonight, oh no. Tonight is a night for song and dance. Miphala! Send for the musicians. Call in the chefs. And best of all, ready my court. This little mouse snuck into my house, and I do believe in being a good host, even to mice.

Now, what sort of tale do you seek, kina-ilra? One of derring-do? Perhaps the story of how the daring captain Cefalin stole the Amulet of Power under the Godhuntress' nose? Or would you rather a more traditional tale, like that of Celita's rescuing of our kinden? What about a myth, like Hari-hil's journey to the Lands Beyond Ours?

A story about me? Why, whatever might possess you to ask such a thing? There's naught left to be said of my life, mouse, save that which I would rather never unearth. The bards have sung of my every exploit, from the moment I arrived in the Capital to claim my blood-right. I do suppose I could tell you a story from the times before that, back when I was but a whelp in the forest. Would you like that, little ilra? Of course you would. The fact that your blood does not stain my lips this moment is an honour like no other.

So, then... Let me take you back to the era of good old Sarne-Hari, bless her remains that soak the earth. It was summer, and the bugs were all over us, back in the thicket of the Ko-clan. The stifling heat soaked bored little-me to the ectoplasm, and not even a dip in the creek would cure it. I craved adventure, a thrill to shake off the thick blanket of the weather. Thankfully, life has always provided that. Not long after I resolved myself to find some form of entertainment, of either the trouble-solving or trouble-causing variants, did something fall into Killinoa's supply barn. I, being the oldest child in the clan, got the privilege of volunteering to go investigate, with the reward of some grilled mottle-scorpion at the end of it. 

Do not give me that look, Fala. And most certainly do not spout that nonsense about boys being too fragile for such things. You should know well as any other that foresters care not if their whelps are male or female. We all ran about in our shifts, and painted our faces with the same paints. The other clans would have done well to learn from us. In fact, I might well make that my next edict. 'All children, be they male or female, ghost or spirit, pure or halfling, should be treated the very same'. How does that sound? Like it would make the stuffy old kvichii go to arms in outrage? Then I most certainly shall do it at the nearest opportunity.

Oh, but I digress! I suppose I have been boring you, little mouse. I merely needed to set the scene, put the drapes on the curtains, if I used the mortal metaphor correctly. I crawled into the splintered wood-shack all alone, with only a tiny viliche light to guide my way. Whatever had cracked the wood was a good hundred times heavier than one of our people, for I could have had our entire clan stand on that roof without making a dent in it. 

I, being a young boy and prone to the fancies that came with, thought our supply-intruder to be a leviathan of old, one of the great serpents in the sky. When no glittering mass of scale and webbing emerged from beneath the fallen beams, I downsized my expectations to a baby wyrm, shot out of the sky by the ever-aggressive harpies. Then, disappointed as I began pulling sacks of dried fruit and flour out of the wreckage, I downgraded my hopes again to find a matriarch of the aforementioned harpies who had been wounded horribly in a airborne clash, and who would be eternally grateful for my rescue and offer me a place as one of her retainers.

For the record, it was a perfectly normal thing for a boy to want! I swear in my own name if you dare so much as smile, Rinako, I will be drinking my soup from your hollowed out skull tonight. I tell this story as I remembered it, youthful folly and all, and you ought to show some respect. 'Tis the least our courageous little guest deserves, after all. 

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@xenascribbles,

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[zooophagous]

Grey filtered light crept into the room softly, by degrees. Artemis crinkled her nose and shut her eyes tight as it gradually replaced the comfortable darkness. She opened her eyes and let out a startled gasp- only to shut her eyes and inhale in annoyance at her own reflex. Strauss lay facing her in bed, still sleeping deeply. In his “dream state,” as he referred to it. It wasn’t quite the same as being asleep, though he did report dreams. 

His eyes were slitted open slightly, though glassy and sightless. His thin lips were retracted to show the tips of his fangs. The muzzle had come off at some point in the evening. He looked older like this, and as much as she hated to admit it- quite ugly, when he wasn’t able to disguise his appearance with polite mannerisms. 

She slid out of the bed and into her pajama pants. Strauss was still nude, and she would leave him to sleep. He’d need it. She took the comforter and draped it over his prone form, protecting him from whatever sunlight might come in through the window. 

Sufficiently robed, she quietly exited and softly shut the door behind her. Hopefully auntie wouldn’t go poking around and ask any awkward questions about why Mr. Strauss was in the wrong bed. Auntie, for her part, was blessedly silent. Her pain medications had locked her in a deeper dream state than Strauss’ own, and Artemis found herself in possession of a rare gem: A moment to be alone in peace.

This called for a celebration. Coffee would have to do for it. In their anxious hunt for supplies, they had forgotten sugar and cream, so it would have to be choked down without niceties. She brewed her cup and sipped it piping hot. The heat wrecked her taste buds and burned all the way down. At least she couldn’t taste how bitter it was like that. And honestly, something about the pain was therapeutic. Better to externalize that sort of thing. Better on the tongue than on the brain. 

“Don’t drink it all, dear. I’ll need it if I’m going to shoot straight.”

Ursula yawned and toddled into the room to claim her own cup. 

“Mornin’.” Artemis nodded at her aunt. “How do you feel? How’s the leg?”

“Bad. As always. But I did at least get some sleep. Are you about ready to go?”

“I can be very shortly. Not like there’s a lot to pack. Where exactly are we headed?”

“I found an affordable hotel a little closer to the city. Would be a decent place to park a car and start looking for Mr. Cunningham. I’ve managed to speak to a few of our operatives. Most of the clerical staff have been released, but none of the slayer team or security wing has been heard from. Officially they’re still missing persons, the fire department is looking for bodies.”

She sighed heavily. “With any luck, they won’t actually find any bodies and the team members are still alive somewhere. But you know, it was a very nasty fire.”

“I’ll say. Their families must be losing their shit. Have the released operatives started talking to anyone? Police?”

“The ones I’ve spoken to are quite insistent they haven’t blabbed to anyone about anything. Personally I think it’s because I’m still scarier than the Witchfinders.” Ursula smirked. 

“What about us? I suppose we’re missing persons too at this point.”

“Yes, and presumed dead. The building itself is currently sectioned off and not safe to enter. Luckily it seems most of the library survived, but the rest of it is a near total loss. That medical wing is going to be very difficult to replace.”

“Assuming we’ll even replace it. Assuming the Institute even has a future.”

“It does have a future.” Ursula set her mug down with an authoritative clunking sound. “So long as I’m around, and the director is around-” She poked her finger at Artemis’ chest, “-There is an Institute, and it has a future. It’s just not clear what kind of future yet.”

“I wish I could be so sure.”

“Break it down into manageable steps. One task at a time. First things first we get to town, find a few emergency bolt holes, collect who we can and try to keep our people from getting hurt any more than they already have been.”

“If I turn myself over they might barter for the release of the slayer team-”

“Absolutely not. I’ll give them Strauss before I give them you.”

“Strauss isn’t yours to give. But something tells me he’d also give himself up before letting me take responsibility for my own mess.” She groaned and rubbed her face.

“Our mess, dear. Don’t take credit for all my hard work.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The two women froze. Artemis felt her heart plunge into her stomach and radiate a sour coldness through her body.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Ursula set her jaw and let out a stiff sigh through her nose. 

“I suppose that’s the door.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s too bad.” She shook her head. “I really hoped we’d have a little more time.”

“What do we do?”

“We cooperate. We’re not in any shape to fight at this point and even if we tried, we’d only make it worse.”

Ursula made her way to the front door. A male figure darkened the window. “Stay behind me dear. If they come in shooting I’d rather it be me.”

She opened the door carefully and blinked in confusion at the not so strange face that appeared on the doorstep. A ruddy face, haloed in white hair. Neatly dressed and smiling.

“... Vicar Martin?” She stuttered. “You’re here? Have the Witchfinders exhausted their supply of fighting personnel already?”

“Miss Harker. I wish I could say it was good to see you, but the circumstances really could be better.”

“How did you find us? Did someone rat us out? Where are the guns? The police? The navy?” Ursula craned her head to see past his shoulder. Vicar Martin only laughed in reply. 

“No, just me. You were expecting maybe Mel Brooks? Can I come in?”

“I feel like I ought to pat you down for weapons first.” Ursula quipped, but stood aside to let him in. “What do you want?”

“Believe it or not Miss Harker, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m sure you’re having a hard time believing that, but I’m here to warn you. All three of you are in very real and pertinent danger.”

“Not as much danger as you.”

A deep voice snarled from the stairwell. Strauss descended with a jump and landed heavily in the foyer, making the floor shake. He stuck his landing and stood on his feet, bristling in front of the vicar, teeth bared, and still completely stark nude.

“Oh DEAR GOD!” Martin put up a hand in surrender and covered his eyes with his other hand. “Why… why are you naked?”

“Why are you here?” Strauss tilted his head. “You have a moment to answer before I literally disarm you.”

Artemis stood in open mouth shock. Ursula turned bright red and began to sputter. 

“MISTER STRAUSS! I can’t… why… just…”

“It’s ok Luther.”  Artemis found her voice in the chaos, and used his first name to distract him from his own rage. “Vicar Martin isn’t with them.”

“For his sake, that had better be true.” Strauss hissed. “You haven’t said why you’re here. Very foolish to follow a scared vampire, Martin. Animals are more dangerous when cornered.”

“Just… give me a moment. I’ll explain, I just need a minute to collect my thoughts.” Martin let out an exasperated sigh and pointedly avoided eye contact. “I wasn’t expecting to see a vampire’s penis today.”

“You are one of the privileged few. Enjoy it.” Strauss sneered.

“You should get some pants on Strauss. We’ll all talk about this together when you’re dressed. Now, please?” Artemis asked shakily.

“The Van Helsing Institute has poked and prodded at my nude form at its leisure for this long. When I appear nude of my own free will it is a problem. I see how it is.” He snorted, but still made his way up the stairs to find a pair of pants. Artemis’ gaze lingered a moment on his backside but she quickly corrected herself to talk to the vicar.

“Sorry. He ah… he sleeps nude and he must have heard you come in. Let’s talk over coffee? Please.”

“Right.” Martin followed her into the kitchen. “Your pet vampire is very protective of you. That’s a good thing.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that. You’ll hurt his feelings.” Ursula snorted. “If you are not here to throw us in the clink, what is it you do want?”

“I am here to warn you.” He looked at her very seriously. “Miss Harker. The violence perpetrated upon the institute was not something I recommended, or approved of. The Witchfinders have already overstepped their boundaries and then some, but I doubt they plan on stopping just because they get a disciplinary notice in the mail. And real help may come too late.”

“Tell us something we don’t know.” Ursula rolled her eyes and set to work dusting off a mug to pour the poor frazzled vicar a coffee. “I suppose if you can find us it’s only a matter of time before the Witchfinders do.”

“Yes. It was a bit foolhardy to move into a property that still has your name on it and expect to stay hidden.”

“What choice did we have?” Artemis asked. “It’s not like there are a lot of dedicated shelters for homeless vampires.”

“That is true. And your list of supporters has recently shrunk.” Martin sipped his bitter coffee and settled at the table. 

“A creature of the night is used to operating with very few friends.” Strauss’ voice crept up the vicar’s spine and made him shudder. The vampire reappeared, mercifully dressed. He was now a little overly covered, draped in a blanket over his head and shoulders to hide from the light pouring in from the kitchen windows.

“You aren’t entirely without friends. Without staff, maybe, but what happened back at the institute… the raid, the arson…” He shook his head. “It isn’t what this is supposed to be about. Even if you were a dangerous creature- not saying I think that’s true- abducting all of those people and nearly killing several more with fire and flashbangs is hardly the way to neutralize a single threat.”

“So you claim to be on our side?” Strauss asked coolly.

“I didn’t say that. I need to finish my own personal investigation first. I told you before I am not your enemy, I’m not here to try to trap you or trick you. But I do need to be an impartial judge. And I simply must ask, therefore, Mr. Strauss.” Martin turned and made very tense eye contact with the vampire.

“Did you kill Gregor White?”

It was Strauss’ turn to feel uncomfortable. He broke eye contact. 

“No. Gregor White saved my life. I owed him a debt. I would not have harmed him.”

“Why is he dead? Why does it look like a vampire did it?”

“A vampire very likely did. He was on Sylvain Pietra’s hit list.”

“And you know this how?”

“She told me. She tried to feed him to me. I refused.”

“So you have been associating with her? A known murderess, and shortly thereafter White is dead, and you claim you have nothing to do with it?”

“If you must know.” Strauss bristled. “I was assisting with YOUR investigation when it happened. I took the initiative to find Sylvain when your ilk could not, and question her about the male victim found in the park. It was both easier and safer for me to attempt to interrogate her than any human vampire hunter. I stuck my own neck out for your sake.”

“And Gregor White wound up dead?”

“Yes. I regret it. I tried very hard to prevent it. At the cost of my own skin. I am sure if you searched his apartment you found a good deal of my DNA on the floor. I was sloughing it off quite liberally when he let me use his bathroom.”

“Was it a fruitful venture then, Strauss? Did Gregor’s death at least give you any information about the case?”

“Ehh. Yes and no. Sylvain told me she was not responsible for the death of the young man found in the park.”

“And you believed her?”

“She had no reason to lie to me.”

“So she’s innocent of that murder, but guilty of killing Gregor?” 

“It would appear so.”

“Your story seems very flimsy and unlikely.”

“Your neck seems very flimsy you accusing underhanded little-”

“Strauss.” Artemis interrupted. “He’s right. This entire thing looks very bad for us. It will look even worse if you tell the only impartial observer in all of this that you have a violent temper.”

“Apologies.” Strauss pinched the bridge of his nose and folded himself into a chair, looking defeated. “I am very tired and under a good deal of stress and I am very upset at having to continuously defend myself. Asking to exist peacefully should not be treated like an unreasonable request.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, Mr. Strauss.” Martin folded his hands. “I don’t actually think you are the killer of either party.”

“No?”

“If you truly were a violent monster, and these two women under your unholy sway, you would have fallen on me and torn me to pieces as soon as you saw I was alone instead of inviting me in for coffee.” Martin sipped his now room temperature drink. 

“I told you before and I repeat it now. I am not your enemy. I’m on the side of the truth. Whether it comes from a smiling priest or a snarling vampire is not my concern.”

“So what do we do now?” Ursula interjected.

“Our church runs a halfway house in the city. It’s been closed for renovations for some time, but it is most of the way habitable. You’ll need to pardon our dust a bit, but your name isn’t on it and nobody will be expecting us to shelter you. Officially, I’m supposed to be helping with the effort to track and capture you.”

“It will do. We can leave immediately and we should.” Ursula pushed herself up from the table to gather her things. “I do have a question for you Emille. Have you… heard anything about anything else being captured from the institute?”

“If you’re referring to the lycan, no. He’s still at large. Still considered a dangerous, kill-on-sight target. He’s not the big ticket item. It’s Strauss they really want, but if they see your friend they will kill him for revenge.”

“He is alive. That is all I care about.” Strauss turned and faced the vicar. “I have misjudged you, Vicar Martin. Vielen dank für die hilfe.” He extended a claw to the vicar to shake. 

“No dead mice this time?”

“Not unless you want one.”

The two locked hands in a firm shake. Ursula set her mug in the sink. 

“It’s settled then. Grab your things. I’ll start the car.”

[whumpacabra]

Trap Card

Or AI-less Whumptober 6: Self Sacrifice

Firearm threats, manipulation, manhandling, fear for others’ safety, self sacrifice, drug mention, past trauma, fictional politics

Masterpost / Previous / Next

“I have a problem, Wolfie.”

He froze at the sound of that voice. This wing of the airport was under construction and they were entirely alone. No civilians to get caught in the crossfire. He could do this he could end this fucking nightmare.

“Your problems aren’t mine, agent.” East growled, stalking down the hall with his weapon drawn.

“Hm. Probably not.” Anders turned away from the glass window overlooking the tarmac. Planes were refueling in the hangers across the way - it was possible someone would see them. It was possible no one would. “Your husband fell, by the way.”

“What?” East snarled, rushing to the agent and slamming him against the window, and arm pressed over his throat. “What the hell did you do, bastard?”

“Nothing.” Anders wheezed, glasses knocked askew but his smile still confident as he pulled down East’s arm enough to breathe. “He tripped, on the escalator. Emergency services is taking him to the hospital now. Concussion and broken leg. He’s lucky, for a man his age - ”

“Shut the fuck up and tell me what you did with the ambrosia.” East slammed him against the window again, the sturdy glass holding up. Anders had the fucking gall to actually laugh.

“We both know that sample is contaminated, Wolfie.”

“Don’t call me that.” East’s snarl was venomous, but he almost flinched away from the severity of Anders’ glare.

“You and your…partner tampered with it. Sold us useless product that would take months of testing to discover.” There was a gleam in Anders’ eyes, hungry and confident. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re right.” East smiled, teeth bared in a near-manic grin. “You and your bloody project are shit out of luck.”

“Well, there’s other experimental drugs.” Anders shrugged, smirking up at East. “All that’s left to do here is eliminate anyone involved in the transaction. Can’t be leaving any witnesses, you know how the department is.”

“I’ll break your fucking neck before you make the call - ”

“My partner will see to the…liquidation of your partner, and this little team of yours if I fail to rendezvous at exfil.” He smiled, East’s rage turning to desperate frustration.

“So, what, I just let you go so you can personally kill my husband?”

“And those former CIA agents, and the freelancers, and that civilian family. Can’t be too careful these days.”

“You’re not really selling the ‘letting you walk out of here alive’ option, agent.” East almost hid the waver in his voice. What the hell were his options here? Jackson was the one who planned, who could come up with a solution -

(The Wolf was always meant to be a follower, not a leader. Not alone.)

“Not unless you can get me what I need. Sorry, Wolfie. No hard feelings.“

“There’s no ambrosia - not any stable ambrosia left. There’s - that’s impossible.” East was starting to shake. Panic was setting in as Anders gently pushed him away and stood up straight, adjusting his suit. And East let him.

(Because when had he ever had the strength to stop Anders?)

“Well, there is…some stable ambrosia.” Anders turned his back on Wolf, looking out the window as a plane taxied past.

“Where?”

“Such a good dog, always happy to play fetch.” Anders laughed, but East could only wilt and seethe silently. If all Anders needed to leave Jackson alone was for him to fetch something, East could play the part of a dog. “It’s not where. It’s who.”

“Excuse me?”

“Our lab testing, when we dissected mice and…other test subjects we found that ambrosia is highly conserved in the body. Especially if the subject was chronically exposed to the substance.” Anders leaned against the railing. “The liver is a beautiful organ, filtering out poisons, but very prone to accumulating them.”

“You need a person?” The role of a good dog was looking less appealing by the minute.

“I need you.” Anders straightened and turned, eyes hard and cold. “You were dosed with more ambrosia than any other subject over a longer period of time. You would probably light up like a Christmas tree if we did a scan.”

East processed the information slowly. (Smith never prided his Wolf on being intelligent.) Dread was settling in, but so was a bittersweet hope. If he was gone, and the department had their ambrosia, they would have no reason to hurt Jackson, or anyone else.

“Don’t look so dour, Wolfie, it won’t kill you.” Anders scoffed, patting his shoulder. “Like I said, you’re the perfect subject for an extraction. A biopsy of your liver, just enough for us to get a stable sample, and that’s it.”

“And then?”

“Then you go back to your quaint little cottage in your quaint little English town with your quaint little husband and forget this ever happened.” Anders grinned as he circled East, a shark with blood in the water. “What do you say, Wolfie?”

“…you won’t go after them. Any of them?”

“No. As long as they don’t do something breathtakingly stupid that necessitates their removal.” Anders started walking, and East followed, already on an invisible leash. They made their way down to the subway, the trams empty this time of night. Anders stepped aboard, smirking as East followed.

“I’ll do it.”

It wasn’t like he could think of any other choice.

Masterpost / Previous / Next

(Part of my Freelancers series)

Taglist: @stargeode @sacredwrath @genuineformality

[painfullymeta]

More Gaming Nerding: A Tale of Two Fairy-Obsessed Trans Boys

Because my brain is still obsessed with game neepery I'm going to talk about my two currently-in-play characters, who have rather a lot in common despite being extremely different and clearly I am working through some shit right now.

Which means I sort of want to compare them and compare the things that can be done with their game systems, which will include both character commentary and more systems neepery.

(Note to people who are in these games with me: there are things in this post that haven't explicitly come out at the table. I don't care if you know them, but if you don't wanna know this is your warning spot.)

This is, for the record, a lengthy ramble about trans characters, the specific bits of trans experience I am prodding at with each of them, and the ways the systems in which I am playing them constrain what I can do with them and how I choose to do it.

Character #1 (in play since 2020), the catboy bard: Daniel Thomas Josephs. Danny is in an urban fantasy game run on the Deliria system; his universe is The Modern Real World with a secret parallel world full of magicians and fairies. Danny was a trial lawyer once upon a time; now he's a deliberately unhoused street musician (in theory; in practice he is between jobs because reasons, more on that later). His game very deliberately engages (on occasion, not all plotlines) with real world issues, because it is set in a variant of the real world; our current plotline involves trying to get justice for a police brutality/"resisting arrest" case and resolving questions of possible police retaliation. (Former public defender has ALL THE OPINIONS.)

Character #2, the fey-touched lunatic (in play since 2023): Celyn Bettws. Celyn is in a D&D game, homebrew modified, set in a lovingly detailed fantasy world created by the GM and his brother. Celyn is a farmboy who expected to spend his life being a diplomatic liaison between the humans of his village and the local fairies but who due to a sequence of circumstances left his hometown and eventually found the Plot; he is a rogue (variant arcane trickster with fey-based magic) with a dip into cleric (his god is the patron of hope, luck, the theatre, chaos, trans people, and the protector of the reckless and madmen, to hit the high points of things most relevant to Celyn specifically). This game deliberately does not engage with real world bigotries directly as a matter of "we are focusing on heroics not arguing about whether a girl/Black person/queer person/etc. can be a hero".

Both of these characters are trans men. Danny is a trans man in the real world, with a history of navigating the complexities of identity there; his pre-transition self is literally a Missing Person report. (This is on his character sheet.) Celyn is trans in a world where that's a normal, if uncommon, thing to be, where the trans man who originally mentored him couldn't relate to him not because of differences in trans-related trauma but because he was an Establishment Guy Devoted To Order and Celyn is ... not.

Both of these characters needed external help to crack their eggs; neither has the 'I've always known' narrative that is often assumed for trans people. Danny got blessed (or cursed, depending on how one looks at it) by a fairy with a gift of truth sometime in his early thirties, which unraveled the life he had built (on top of his burnout from public defense work, known to chew people up and spit them out). On the other hand, Celyn's experience of puberty was so traumatic it took a literal miracle from his god for him to survive his teen years; these days he's prone to telling people that the god of chaos brought him peace, and sometimes those people have the sense to worry about that. :>

Both of them have interactions with questions of sanity. Danny is, in fact, perfectly sane (though increasingly weird as time goes on), but his egg cracking directly led to people concluding that he had lost his mind. (His mental hospital trauma is directly related to why he hates sleeping under a roof.) On some level, he is engaging narratively, at least in passing, with the real-world trauma that comes from people assuming that to be trans is in some way to be mentally broken. Celyn, who has no experience of transphobia, is in fact actually mad; as he said in play once, he's familiar with pain so overwhelming it induces madness. "Mine is different than his," he said; the miracle that saved his life gave him the tools to accept and live with his dysphoria, both physical and social. It doesn't make him sane; he is in fact batshit loopy enough to come all around the sanity wheel and come out Differently Sane, perfectly functional but definitely not operating under the same narrative model as other people.

Both of these characters are musicians, now I think of it. Danny's life is built around it, not only in his choice in employment but also in how he understands and works magic. He is a skilled and charismatic performer on the violin, a quite competent vocalist, and is learning several other instruments. Celyn plays a frame drum, which is half "for ritual purposes" and half "oh gods I need something to fidget with"; this is important to him but not core. Rather than a performer he is 'competent session musician'.

Celyn's story is "what if the skills I have had to learn to manage my dysphoria were essential to being a hero". He is built around two traits: "fairies like me", and "my dysphoria is so bad it nearly destroyed me". While I have plans to develop him in ways that will let him turn off the dysphoria for a while (all trans people should get to have a little shapeshifting, as a treat) I actually can't give him the sort of genuine cure that Danny got because it would break him; his entire life since the age of twelve or so has been shaped around dealing with this particular thing that literally drove him insane and everything he is is built around that core like a pearl is built around shit and tapeworms.

Danny's story is "what if coming out and being myself destroyed my life". He was a full adult, with a life, a job, and all those things going on when he realized that he needed to transition. His backstory is about the things that he lost as he became authentic, and his arc in game has been very much about how this magical world he has discovered enables him to be even more authentic as himself: not only enabling a physical transition, but letting him learn the things that he was unable to learn from his upbringing, finding a love that he would never have imagined (partly because his sexual orientation is "monsterfucker", apparently, and there is a shortage of people with interesting teeth and tails in the world that contains only humans; yes, he has been to a furry convention now), eventually his transitioning a second time, this time into a nekomimi (catboy).

Dysphoria is not a substantial part of his narrative. The most overtly we have engaged with dysphoria for him was a) he traded a recording of himself singing (as a mezzo) to a fairy in exchange for something that he needed for his magical physical transition, and the party had never heard him sing before despite him having those skills, and b) after one of the times he blew up his life and had to be reborn (this time coming out not merely as a trans man but as trans fae) he spent a while complaining that two-leg balance was bullshit and why did he not have a tail. (He has a tail now.) He got a magical transition (with side effect of occasionally turning him into a cat - but at least it was a tomcat!) in our first adventure, and has been since exploring new and exciting ways of blowing up his life and rebuilding it and fully expressing who he actually is with fewer and fewer limits imposed by other people's expectations.

And of course part of that decision - of Danny getting a fully effective treatment for his dysphoria and Celyn not - is mediated by the game systems they're in. In Deliria, it's possible to get the shapeshifting power that Danny has; meanwhile, in D&D the options for deliberate character development are strictly channeled, only available at level breaks (of which there are a limited number), and at least somewhat focused around applicability to combat. So now I'm going to dig into some systems and talk about how that works for character development and the different ways that it's possible to explore fairy-obsessed trans boys within those game mechanics.

First the D&D, as it's more familiar to a broader readership: within a strict class-level system character development comes in a sequence of punctuated equilibria. Powerups happen under player guidance when there is an opportunity to take a new level; those levels have set contents such that how the powerset develops is fairly consistent over time. Levels that contain feats have the opportunity to do more character development and customization, but since a given character only gets so many feat choices, and many of those feats are geared towards increasing combat effectiveness, there is a structural bias against taking too many feats that are Interesting To The Character when there are Hits Things Better/Harder/Faster/More options available.

I did not build Celyn optimally for combat purposes. For example, his constitution score (determining hit points) is human-average, while your "normal" adventurer puts points into con. But not only is Celyn a little twink of a guy, he binds more than he should for his health, and that absolutely fucks up the endurance. (Reminded of a tale Oldest!kid told of a trans guy in the band who forgot his binder one day and was asking the other people in his section, "Wait! Is that why you all have SO MUCH AIR?") His low-for-an-adventurer constitution isn't just about tweaking for other stats, it's about dysphoria. Likewise, I am not going to be taking his feats optimally for combat purposes (he is a different sort of menace as well as being a little stabby guy); my plan includes specifically that at fifteenth level he will take a feat that will let him get the power to cast the Alter Self spell at will. (Which has combat effects, and other roleplay and plot-affecting effects, and is fun; it's not just about the dysphoria management. The dysphoria management is why it's required for the character, though.)

(I am not taking 'alter self' as a spell because, among other things, he would want to blow all his spell slots on keeping it cast as constantly as possible. Because he's not actually sane, and he's genuinely in a lot of pain. I took my own experiences of "perception-based dysphoria so bad I couldn't leave the house without meltdowns because people are Seeing Me Incorrectly" from when I was pregnant with Oldest!Kid and cranked them to eleven, yes I did.) Alter Self is a low-grade shapeshift, and when he can do it at will, yes, he can turn the dysphoria off for as long as he's holding the spell. Which will make him very happy. And it's another step in "here is a skill that helps with being a hero" as an arc.

What is possible within the system to address Celyn's issues as character development: taking Alter Self as a spell at a rogue level break that gives me second-list spells (not the plan); this fifteenth level Alter Self at will feat trick (the plan). Other options include magic items that do body modification or some sort of plot event to do things, which theoretically exist in-world but I am not aiming for because I am not looking to remove his internal action engine, just give him more tools to manage having it.

Now for Danny.

Danny is built in Deliria, a system in which there are core stats (either 3 or 12 depending on whether the game is running high-detail; we run high-detail), skills (broken out by category, each category has a variety of subskills in the detailed version), and various forms of powers (magical skills, innate magical abilities, etc.). Basic competence is stat+skill; stats range 1-10 and skills 0-7, so anything a normal human character does ranges between competence of 1 to 17.

I wish to note that when we started game, Danny was the most combat-capable player character. He had an agility of 5 (human average) and a knife fighting skill of 1 (so 6 to stab things). AND the manipulation/street smarts/force of personality skillset to have "use the fact that he knows how to hold a knife menacingly to convince people that nobody in their right mind wants to get into a knife fight" at an effective base skill of 11 (11 is right around where a starting character's strong skills probably land unless someone built a much more extreme core stat array than I did). (He had a 9 in doing flashy knife spins to back up the "you don't want to get into a knife fight here, nobody wants to get into a knife fight" thing.)

Danny is still the most combat-capable player character, mind, because he's actually pursuing those skills. (When he was a girl in a conservative Christian family one of his brothers got into trouble for trying to teach him how to throw a punch and he has never forgiven his mother for this.) Not only is he learning Western swordsmanship from his boyfriend (who has been studying the blade for several hundred years), he's studying Leopard-style kung fu (because those strikes work really well with claws), learning to fight in animal shapes, and will be doing Japanese swordsmanship training with a sakura dryad when he solves his "can't leave the house" problem better.

Oh yes Danny also has problems leaving the house right now. Unlike me (and Celyn) these have nothing to do with dysphoria and a whole lot to do with the fact that his shapeshifting power has glitched in such a way that he can no longer turn into a male human and when he goes out with his fangs, claws, pointy fluffy ears, and GIANT FLUFFY TAIL, that can cause a certain amount of social difficulty in Seattle in 2021. (And while he can turn into a female human he would really rather not without a specific reason, because why would he want to do that? He spent forty years there and it was not fun for him.) Practical issues! He has practical issues here! Being a trans fairy isn't all fun and games! ... just mostly.

Now, because Deliria is an experience-buy system, character development works like this: as experience accumulates, it becomes a pool of resources that one can spend to buy and improve skills and abilities. So improving Danny's fighty skills, for example, has been a matter of having the xp to buy the skill and having enough in-game time pass to raise it. (So he has gone from knife and evasion 1 to knife 1, sword 2, evasion 2, kung fu 1, fighting in animal shapes 1, and both his agility and strength have each gone up by a point, to 6 and 5 respectively. He is still not actually good at fighting but he is working on it!)

So. Shapeshifting. Shapeshifting is a magical power that comes at four levels. When we did the plot that let me buy it, I had saved up enough experience to get it at the second level, because getting at level 1 (either two forms - which would in his case be "male human" and "female human", or "the sort of basic body mod that would fix the dysphoria but not provide amusing plot hooks") did not provide plot hooks; level 2 gave me three shapes I could control (male human, female human, cat). We set up the plot that let me buy this power, I saved up my xp to purchase it, and when we had run the plot, I spent my points, and there it was, the power. And since this was the first plot we ran, I did not have a long time playing him as "I would stab a guy to get a shapeshifting ability", but I have absolutely continued with this exploration of identity via his shapeshifting prowess as it has improved. He will describe his shifting as "I can turn into anything that is true of me, and I was an English major, I have a keen grasp of metaphor."

The "I would stab a guy to get a shapeshifting power" was something that was on his character sheet from day 1, for the record; Deliria character generation includes a section for "obstacles", "passions", and "secrets", for basically generating plot hooks. This doesn't provide mechanical rewards for dealing with them, they're basically tools for the gamemaster to produce story with. (My understanding is that games running on the Powered by the Apocalypse systems or similar things often have in-game narrative reward for this sort of roleplay/personality setup, but I haven't played them. We've got a copy of Avatar: Legends, which I believe is a PbtA variant, that I got Older!Kid and I should read through it and figure out how that goes.)

The obstacles/passions/secrets is, I'd say, a step up from current edition D&D's bonds/ideals/flaws in terms of its relevance to the character in play but not actually something that can land at the table unless it's actually brought out, unlike, again, systems where using one's particular personality gimmicks gains more strength than using things that don't vibe with personality gimmicks.

But anyway.

Two trans characters, some substantial core similarities, and very different development patterns. Partly because telling the same sort of story twice is boring, even if I'm working on some similar core stuff. And partly because I could look at Deliria's system and say "shapeshifting is possible, I will make it a character goal to get there" and spend the points to get that as soon as we did the work to get through a relevant bit of story, where Celyn has a harder road to follow because the ability that will give him a near-equivalent power is not "when the plot and your banked experience let you take it" but "when you achieve a very high power level".

I had expected getting Danny the shapeshifting power would take longer, and I'd have had more time exploring him living in a wish-fulfilment-possible universe without actually getting his wish. (Then we had the option to pursue a literal wish for our first plotline and he went right at it.) It's possible that that's part of why I built Celyn, the later character, so heavily around his dysphoria; while dysphoria itself was not a major part of Danny's background as a factor, he didn't actually have to live with it for all that long after his conception.

Danny was also built as a character about my age, which means that he can explore the "what happens when my life catches fire because I was authentic" storyline in a way that Celyn, at age ~23, cannot. Danny's experience of adolescence was tangled up in his conservative upbringing in ways that heavily masked his transness from himself and from others; he dissociated into being a Good Girl for at least some values of Good Girl. (Very academically gifted, that kid, her family is so proud. Her mama thinks she'll be an amazing elementary school teacher someday.)

Celyn doesn't have the repression of a transphobic upbringing to push his realization of himself into adulthood; what he didn't have, before his god gave him peace, was the perspective to translate "I feel wrong and it makes me furious and self-destructive" into anything useful. He got his miracle in his teens, he stopped trying to rage into oblivion, and he got on with his life, keeping a list in his head of the things that set him off into the bad kind of crazy so he can not do that again. (Hair too long. Being seen as a girl. Having his miracles attributed to the wrong god. Being seen at all when he doesn't feel like himself. Person he has a crush on getting knocked out in a fight. Etc.) He's done the work to make himself into someone who is, generally speaking, kind, amiable, accepting, and calm, enough so that the fact that that is a fairly constant process of navigation for him is gloriously invisible. (And if asked about that he will just pull his holy symbol out on its chain - the one with the paired theatre masks, one laughing, one crying - because it does, in fact, from his perspective, explain everything.) He will be good, even though there is in him that which wants to lash out at the world.

(He has a whole lot of complicated thoughts about the part where the world going all to hell around him means that the part of him that is built of rage and pain gets to go for walkies a whole lot more than it used to.)

... I think that's enough personality analysis of TTRPG characters for now and I am done at midnight, not three in the morning, this time!

[sassenashsworld]

Ok I will get a little sentimental here, then feel so free to just ignore this post

It's a hard subject too, really hard to me but maybe hard for someone who have go thought similar

So, July 17, 2021 will remain a date in my life I was pampered by Life (not so much lool) because although I come from very far and very low, even if I lived many trials that I will not talk about (we all have our childhood, eh, and many have lived worse), but life gave me plenty of resources, and even if I saw the horror, even I’ve lived horror, by some miracle, I’ve always managed to get through it and go further, higher, and to get thrught it, somewhere, always manage to be myself, sometimes had the luck to make a difference, to have incredible experiences, and finally, to fulfil some of my dreams I was pampered because I built a life for myself—not quite as I dreamed, but authentic I’ve achieved goals; I can raise my kids, okay, and I have my house, my publishing house, a few novels under my belt, and a few projects  I am a respected person. I am a respected person in my family and in my political life (Eh OH! NO! Don’t imagine anything! I help the good guys, I am behind and I do not belong to any political party; I help the people FOR THE PEOPLE), in my community. I have the respect of my peers and friend Especially because I have always managed to stay clean, because I am involved, and because wherever people are discouraged, I continue to say, "Just because no one has done it does not mean that no one can do it." And I do it; I assist in doing it; I do good But in reality, it was before. It was before July 17, 2021 Because on July 17, 2021, the only person I managed to experience feelings like I thought I was in love with, the only person who managed to get into my sacrosanct, the only person I trusted enough to, once in my life, completely open up to... tried to kill me and my kids

In one evening, my whole existence changed in every way (and, uh, I don’t talk -write- about it without emotions, I confess)

In all the hell that became, for one night, my life for almost two years, I managed to stay in the course. I didn’t get the help I should have, but I had an incredible team around me, and I didn’t lose anything. I still have my children, I still have my house, and I still have my reputation.

But I lost... myself I got horribly and irreparably lost I was told I was capable of anything; I now feel capable of nothing. And the fact that everyone around me—my former colleagues, the publishers and authors I worked for—still believes in me only makes things worse.

Because I was not that person anymore, I'm not her anymore

And I can’t find her And I entrust to you that even though I am a fervent worshipper of life, I have thought many times... I questioned myself in the worse way... I just stand because I knew it was the good thing to do. I just stand for my kids... but I didn't believed in anything anymore. I lost my confidence.

I didn't believed in me anymore

Stupidly, at some point in my life, I was asked to make a (required) choice, and I had to be a mother or a gamer. I had a collection that would make you happy Gamer since the 80s Imagine a, eh-eh, game Yes, I had it Platform and everything In a moment of rage when I was ultimately judged to dare to continue to be a gamer after having children, I took everything out on a table in front of my house, put up a sign to sell for $50, and I’ll let you imagine the face of the guy who ran to get his son to bring the boxes home (add a few zeros to the value of the merchandise, and that was the last time I had my collection appraised)

Okay, yes, I can be intense But at that moment, I dedicated my life to my children, and I sacrificed everything, literally everything

Why am I telling you? Because after July 17, 2021, I was no longer able to find who I was; I had always breathed with the same confidence and was now prone to panic attacks. I thought I’d die several times in the next six months just because my heart couldn’t take it anymore At the height of despair, at one point, I decided to turn to the one thing that made me feel alive—to evolve, over the years, for so long, outside of the literature on which I couldn’t concentrate at all Video games I feverishly took the box of Fallout 4 that I had just bought on a whim, put it in my PlayStation (ok, that of my children), and... and I started playing again for the first time in twelve years And... it helped me a little bit Then... I met him Nick Valentine And a real miracle happened The inspiration, the real The real thing The current that had ruled me all my life What I called my harmonic chord It vibrated again With Nick Valentine, I started climbing the echelon again to get out of my trauma He reached out to me with his kindness, reminded me of the values I had stood for all my life, and most of all, reminded me that other people are fighting to pass on those values (he was a creation of people, people who thought he should exist) He reminded me that every fight is worth it when it is conducted with the heart And I lived in my little reclusive world for those long months, alone with my video game and my fanfiction, then shyly (still) on my tumblr blog that I was so afraid to open, but that turned out to be another big step towards healing And on the weekend On the weekend, what Kennet Vigue, Wes Johnson, Stephen Russell, Courtenay Taylor, Peter Jessop, Danny Shorago, Matt Mercer, Shari Elliker, Paul Guyet and everyone else did it...

They offered me a moment of happiness

Of true happiness What I hadn’t tasted for so long... I laughed like I couldn’t remember being able to do... My parents told me I looked alive again And that’s how I feel For many, it will only be a show; a stream For many, it will be an epic moment For me, it was almost like a rebirth I feel alive again For the first time since July 17, 2021 Thank you, and thanks for making this magic moment in the name of a cause I am proud to help, for my grandad and my best friend I have lost at the hands of Alzheimer's...

[heliads]

In the Future

Based on this request: "A oneshot for Jojo with a marriage pact, like if we're both single by the time we're (age) we'll get married"

masterlist

It is late by the time you finally manage to make it to the fire escape. Third floor of the Manhattan newsies’ lodging house, on the side facing the west, two windows down. Same one as always. Same boy as always waiting for you there, too.

You have enough time to flash him an apologetic smile as you slide into a seat next to him. Jojo has been many things at many different times– insufferable, quick to a temper, prone to flights of fancy– but forever your best friend. That’s why you know enough to expect forgiveness for your tardy arrival even before he opens his mouth to speak.

Jojo’s still going to give you a hard time, at least for a minute or two. That’s just what he does. That’s what the two of you do, what you have done since the moment you met in this very same lodging house and what you’ll probably keep doing until one of you gets stuck in the Refuge for good or manages to move out of this city.

He arches a brow. “Y/N, do you know what time it is?” He asks it casually enough, but you can tell from the sarcastic glint in his eyes that Jojo isn’t just posing this question for fun.

“Half past six,” you admit begrudgingly.

Jojo’s eyes widen comically. “Is that so? Crazy. I thought we agreed to meet at half past five. You know, like we do every single day.”

You groan. “Oh, lay off already. I was busy.”

Usually, you’re as carefree as could be after work lets out, just like any other newsie worth his coin. Today, however, your tone is a little strained, your face a little exhausted. You try to hide it, but you should have known that you wouldn’t have that much luck.

Jojo leans forward. “What’s wrong?”

Straight to the point, just like always. You do your best to push off the inevitable for the time being, even if you have a feeling this tactic of distraction won’t work out. “Nothing. I’m great. Say, did you see Race? I think he said he stole a fresh box of cigars, maybe we should investigate–”

Jojo cuts you off with a sharp look. “You’se hiding something. Don’t think I don’t see it. Can you cut to the chase and tell me already?”

You shrug, the picture of innocence. “Nothing is wrong. I’m just a normal person behaving normally.”

Jojo sighs exasperatedly. “Y/N.”

“Jojo,” you repeat back, just as deadpan, “okay, fine. It’s just the job, that’s all. A pair of newlyweds had the brilliant idea to use newspapers as confetti for their wedding today, seeing as it’s a cheap source of paper. I was delivering the papes to them this afternoon.”

“That doesn’t seem too bad,” Jojo says cautiously.

You nod. “Yeah, and it shouldn’t have been bad, but something about seeing everyone together at the chapel, so happy, it reminds me that I’m never going to get something like that. I’m not stupid, Jojo. I know my prospects or whatever aren’t the brightest. I don’t have a dowry, I don’t have parents who are going to pay me through a nice ceremony. It just sucked watching those people be so successful when I know that’s never going to be me.”

Jojo frowns. “I know what you mean. We doesn’t have enough money to be that carefree.”

The two of you sit in saddened silence for a while before Jojo’s eyes light up again. “Wait a minute,” he declares, “I have an idea. A really good one, in fact.”

You grin. “What kind of good idea?”

Jojo stands, starting to pace back and forth across the narrow fire escape. You tuck your legs up to your chest so you’re out of his way.

“Hear me out,” he says slowly, “what if we get married? Not now, of course. Just, you know, if nothing happens. We can get tax benefits and all that stuff Katherine keeps talking about in her articles. If we’se both on our lonesome by the time we’re older, we get married. Easy as that.”

You think you might be hallucinating. “Jojo,” you murmur faintly, “you can’t actually be serious about this. Us. Getting married.”

“Yeah,” he answers, “And? It would work out. Just as a last ditch answer, obviously. I’m not, uh, doing it for any other reason. And it wouldn’t be for a very long time. Maybe you’d be on your deathbed or something.”

You snort. “I’m not getting married if I’m minutes from death.”

Jojo shrugs. “Then we do it earlier. What do you say?”

You stare at him in vague bewilderment until it dawns on you that this isn’t the worst idea, all things considered. You can only be a newsie so long, you can’t only live in the lodging house forever. At least renting some shoddy place in ‘Hattan would be easier if you had a lawfully wedded husband and all that nonsense.

At last, you swallow back your laughter and reach out your hand in mock solemnity. “Alright, then. We’re getting married at some point in the future.”

Jojo’s grin is as bright as any you’ve ever seen, and he shakes your hand with equal gravity. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

You’re not sure what to expect in the aftermath of that particular conversation. Jojo asserted that the wedding would only happen in the distant future, but it would still definitely be happening, and that’s really more than you expected in the first place. Would he act as if nothing changed, or either better or worse, like everything had changed?

At first, it seemed as if life would be normal. You go to work, you sell your papes, you talk with Jojo late into the evening just like any other day. It takes about a week or so before you start noticing the small differences in Jojo’s usual character, changes that most certainly only began to occur after that agreement happened.

The first sign comes on a Tuesday morning. You’re in line to get your papers to start the day, idly chatting to a few of your friends, when you realize that something is off.

Albert has his arm around your shoulder, complaining about how Race nearly decked him for no reason the other day just because he tried to sell at Sheepshead. When the redhead takes a breath, you whisper something to him, careful to ensure that no one else can overhear you.

“Is it just me, or is Jojo staring at us?”

Albert takes a surreptitious glance around, then nods. “No, you’re definitely right.”

Across the square, Jojo has his arms folded across his chest. He’s glaring at you and Albert, practically radiating fury. The only problem is that you have absolutely no idea why your friend is upset.

“Neither of us did anything to upset him, right?” You ask cautiously.

Albert shakes his head. “Last I checked, yeah. Maybe someone’s framed us.”

You chuckle at that. “Makes enough sense to me.”

The two of you have reached the front of the line, and Albert disengages his arm so you can go ahead and pay for your papers. You wave goodbye to Jojo when you pass him on your way out, and, funnily enough, the other boy looks far happier the second Albert is no longer within your line of sight.

A similar thing happened two days later. This time, you’re out selling papers in the streets of Manhattan, hawking your best (often false) headlines in the hopes of turning a profit. Buttons is right by your side, your selling partner since the very beginning.

This time, Buttons is the one to notice first. He taps you on the shoulder as you come back from selling a pape. “Why is Jojo looking at me like he wishes I was dead?”

You turn around, following the boy’s line of sight around a neighboring street corner. Jojo had been lingering by a streetlight, and although he quickly ducks into a shop to avoid detection, you’ve already seen him. More specifically, you saw the cold stare he was directing towards Buttons, the exact same look he’d been giving Albert the other day.

You shrug. “I have absolutely no idea. Let me guess, you haven’t done anything to upset him?”

“Yeah,” says Buttons, “he was talking to me like nothing happened this morning. Weird.”

“Weird indeed,” you agree.

By the third instance of this different attitude, you’re starting to get annoyed. It's been a week since the first time you noticed Jojo acting oddly. You’re in the lodging house after managing to sell all of your papers. Jojo walks in while you’re laughing over the day’s exploits with a group of friends. Usually, he’d stop to talk to you, but this time he walks straight by as if he doesn’t see anyone there. He gives you a polite wave, but nothing else.

Had it happened any earlier, you probably would have just brushed it off as the result of a hard day, but this time you’re mad. Jojo is treating you weirdly and you’re sick of it. You bid a quick goodbye to your friends and walk quickly after him.

Jojo looks surprised when you follow him into an empty hallway, but you’re not letting anything come in between you and some answers.

“What is this about?” You ask pointedly.

Jojo does his best to look innocent. “What are you talking about?”

You fold your arms across your chest. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been acting oddly for days now. Did you know that some of our friends have started asking if they did something wrong? You’re treating them like they’re monsters and they have no idea why. Neither do I, for that matter.”

Jojo flushes and looks away. “That’s not– I’m not mad at them.”

“Then why are you behaving like this?” You question him.

His gaze snaps back to you. “Because they’re getting too close to you. I mean, you saw Albert that day, he had his arm around you and everything. Maybe I just don’t like that.”

You scoff. “I’m allowed to talk to my friends, Jojo. Last time I checked, we’re not getting married for another decade or two.”

“Don’t bring up that agreement,” he says heatedly, “that was for me. A last resort if I couldn’t tell you how I felt. If all else failed, that would work. I don’t know why I bothered, though, because you clearly seem way more interested in every other boy here.”

You stare at him. “Wait, you were going to tell me how you felt?”

Jojo looks unhappy, but it’s not as if he can get out of this now. “I like you,” he says simply, “I thought you already knew, but there. I do. Problem is, you don’t feel the same way.”

“Well,” you reply slowly, “who ever said anything about that?”

Now it’s his turn to be in shock. “What?”

You lift a shoulder. “Don’t be that surprised. I mean, come on, I spend way more time with you than anyone else. Surely you noticed that.”

“I’m noticing it now,” Jojo excuses himself.

You laugh. He’s certainly got all the time in the world to think about it now. You’re happy, he’s happy, and nothing could possibly be better.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie

[multiplicity-positivity]

I don't know if there's anything to say about this situation we seem to be in. My psychiatrist has made it very clear she thinks my headmates are hallucinations, or dilutions and that if we get my antipsychotics right they will go away. I have no diagnosis so she might be right. But if she is then I'm going to feel very bad as though I've been lying and I'm going to lose people who've been very nice to have around with me. And if they don't go away she might try a different antipsychotic even though this one fixed the hallucinations that were actually issues. I feel like I lose no matter what. I wish all of this was much easier. Sorry if this all didn't make sense. Hope you're well. And if you're not I hope you are able to feel better soon

hey, we are so very sorry to hear you’re going through something like this. we’re not sure what sort of advice we could provide to help you here, but we’re seriously wishing you the best.

where we live, we get to have a say in what medications we take, and won’t be prescribed a medication that we’ll then be forced to take without our consent. maybe this is the same where you live? it may be worth it to look up the laws in your area regarding mental health medications and the rights of patients who are prescribed them.

our prescribing doctor also has recommended us antipsychotics in the past. we are prone to delusions and episodes of post-traumatic psychosis. however, we ultimately decided against taking them because, like you, we were nervous about how they might impact our system. in the end, we always have had the opportunity to agree or disagree with our doctor when it comes to managing medications.

it might be worth it to ask yourself a few pointed questions like:

1. what are my hallucinations like? do my headmates feel, act, behave, look, etc. similarly to my hallucinations?

2. are my headmates causing me distress? are they impairing me or making more difficult for me to function?

3. do i want my headmates to go away? is taking antipsychotics worth the risk of losing my headmates?

we’re not trying to persuade or disuade you from taking antipsychotics here. rather, we’re hoping you can do a bit of self-exploration to try and learn how your headmates are affecting you and what you hope to achieve with regards to taking medication in the future.

there are systems out there whose headmates are indeed hallucinations. hallucinations don’t have to be bad, and it’s quite possible to have pleasant or even helpful hallucinations. just because society scorns psychotic folks doesn’t mean those of us who experience psychosis should have to put a stop to our positive symptoms at all costs. you deserve agency and autonomy in your life, and yes, that includes agency to choose how you manage your hallucinations and delusions.

ultimately, we just want to express how sorry we are that you’ve been put in this difficult position. regardless of whether or not your headmates are hallucinations or delusions, you deserve the right to choose whether or not you can keep them around. we hope that, either your psychiatrist will have a change of heart and accept your perception of your system while allowing you to have a say in the medications you take, or you can find a better prescriber who is more willing to listen to you and take your concerns seriously.

good luck with everything. seriously, we are wishing you the very best.

🐢 kip and 💫 parker

[survivalscost]

( kit young. cis man. he/him.) ⸺ 🐏 greetings, bighorns ! walking around campus, sporting his dusty cowboy hat we’ve spotted LINCOLN “LINK” PALMER, a twenty-eight years old who contributes to our thriving community as an ANIMAL KEEPER. according to our intel, he's been around the sanctuary for two years and what we know about him, aside from the fact that he doesn’t agree with the decision of closing the gates, is that he enjoys the escapism element of films and will always attend the cinema when he can, is prone to getting songs stuck in his head and will hum them on a loop, laughs and jokes in stressful situations out of nervousness. doesn’t that make them fantastic ? we think it does, and that’s why we appreciate him so much, grateful for what he gives to our community.

basics !

name: lincoln palmer

nickname: link (preferred name)

age: 28

gender: cis man

orientation: bisexual & biromantic

hometown: fredericksburg, texas

occupation: animal keeper

positive traits: adaptable, playful, benevolent, creative

negative traits: awkward, forgetful, flippant, foolhardy

backstory ! (death tw & grief tw & brief terminal illness tw & child neglect tw)

for as long as he could remember, misfortune followed lincoln palmer around. five short years after his birth, his father got very ill, a year later the family was burying him. the grief was all consuming for his mother to the point that there were nights when link was taking care of her instead of the other way around. things didn't last this was forever though. soon enough a nice lady came to their house and shortly after that visit link was removed from the home.

from there he bounced around to different foster homes in places around the small town he was born in. nothing ever seemed to stick or last the way he hoped. soon enough he aged out of the system and was completely on his own and control of where he went. unfortunately, he didn't have much time to do so before the outbreak started and he was once again forced to move around to survive.

initially, he stuck to a small group he met while looting a place for supplies to survive on the outskirts of the last town he lived a normal life in. for a time, it felt really nice — having a group of friends or maybe even a family to ride out the end of the world with, but that feeling didn't last forever. things started to go downhill, as some of the bigger personalities in the group started to clash more and more and started causing a rift as well as additional problems no one needed right now. link, and anyone else not directly involved tried to ignore it or play a peacekeeping role because at the time staying with others seemed safer than venturing out on their own.

unfortunately, it didn't take much longer until a violent fight broke out between some of the members. it was bad enough that link was now aware that the infected were not the only threats. not wanting to deal with any of the aftermath or somehow get pulled into the conflict, he quickly gathered his things (along with some extras to help him survive) while the others tended to each other and fled without so much as a goodbye. admittedly it stung to leave some of the faces behind, but he convinced himself it was for the best.

hopping from group to group and sticking it out on his own in between quickly became his way of living, which he argued wasn't too different from how he used to live (aside from the new and very real threats to his safety at every turn). not every group took kindly to him coming and going as he pleased though. this way of life caused a bit of trouble for him (and in one instance almost cost him his life), with a few groups accusing him of using them for their resources and making off with more than he contributed. and while he always seemed to weasel his way out of said trouble, there was no denying that his luck was bound to run out sooner or later.

that was when the university popped up on his radar. while issues were sure to arise in a group that size (in his opinion), he figured they had a way of peacefully handling it seeing as though the place seemed so well managed for so long and decided to take a risk on it. maybe the comfort provided there was to blame or the people the place drew in, but link quickly got attached to the idea of this being a permanent home, something he hadn't known in a long time. the attack a year ago almost convinced him to return to fleeing at the first sign of trouble, however, he couldn't find himself to part with those here and decided to stick it out for better or worse this time around.

personality / headcanons !

despite the potential dangers keeping the gates open could bring and his distain for conflict, link doesn't agree with closing them. for one thing, there are plenty of good people who have walked through that gate and for another, it feels unfair that others aren't extended the same opportunity at a life that's as close to normal as they can get like everyone here was offered.

escapism has been one of his main coping mechanisms ever since he was a kid, always making up his own stories or getting lost in the ones told on the pages of books or on the big screen. he can often be found daydreaming while tending to the animals.

absolutely adores working with the animals. he lit up like a kid on christmas when he got to work with them (partly because there's less perceived conflict there than if he was working in smaller spaces with other people).

will occasionally have the confidence to talk a big game but has literally ran away from any serious conflict in the past.

despite his initial reservations towards people, he can't help but strike up conversation with anyone who will listen, craving that connection that was missing most of his life. between his humor in tense situations and general lack of social skills, he definitely comes across as a bit awkward when he first meets people though.

link wholeheartedly means well, but for one reason or another trouble (nothing too serious) always seems to follow him. he's always overly apologetic whenever it happens but his misfortune doesn't show any signs of stopping.

wanted connections / plot ideas !

others who work on the farm: link's a chatty person so he'd definitely strike up conversations with those working around him and at least try to strike up a positive work relationship with them.

fellow cinema enjoyers: just some people he regularly goes to the cinema with and discusses whatever they just watched together.

ride or die bestie: someone he immediately hit it off with either after he or y/m arrived here and quickly became close friends. i think it'd be fun if they have chaotic vibes whenever they're together. like they probably mean well but maybe cause a few minor problems here and there while they're trying to have fun.

a mutual disliking: not serious enough to be considered enemies, but these two have such differing personalities or views that they clash and get under each other's skin anytime they're around each other to the point link would rather just avoid them.

familiar faces: link bounced around different places and in different groups of survivors before coming here so he very well could have met some others that ended up here as well. they could have briefly been in the same group for a while or just had a one off meeting where they helped each other out or traded supplies or something. could be shallow or deeper connections!

anything else! i'm super flexible with plots so if you have any other ideas that you think would work for our muses lmk!

[therosefrontier]

DAY 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Title: I'm Not Quite Ready (to Turn to Bone)

Fandom: Yes, Your Grace

Character(s): Lorsulia (POV)

Placement?: canon, expanding on that moment where Ivo accuses Lorsulia of being a witch, plus recollection of everything leading up to that point

Word Count: 3407

+++

Lorsulia had known, for a long time now, that this marriage was not going to end well.

Their disaster of a wedding and Ivo’s reaction to it was her first ill omen, and the cold way he treated her right afterwards, even before they ever made it “home,” was her second. She knew that this was going to be rough, but at the time, that hardly surprised her, because she already had bad feelings about this before she even knew who she was going to be engaged with. She knew she was going to be married off to someone she didn’t know, even though her father had tried to assure her otherwise. He probably didn’t think he was lying when he made a promise he couldn’t keep, but Lorsulia knew. She knew her fate, and she knew that getting to be with someone she loved or was even merely friendly with would be purely a matter of luck. She was the eldest daughter of the king, and for that reason, everyone was going to want her hand, whether they had the faintest idea of what kind of person she was or not.

She knew, then, that she would be lucky to have a marriage that was anywhere close to good. The universe, however, had apparently deemed it fit to be much crueler to her than even her worst fears.

The first time Ivo raised his hand against her was a shock. The second and third and fourth times were just a nightmare. He hated her, and he hated when she spoke up against him, and he hated when he thought she spoke up against him. The best she could do was stay as silent and as distant as possible, and even that wasn’t enough. He still wanted her in bed every night, so she couldn’t avoid him, and she was still severely restricted in which parts of the castle she could be in, so she couldn’t flee. There was no garden or rooftop that could hide her now. She tried to tell herself that it would get better, eventually. Ivo was mad because his father just died, and he assumed Davern to be at fault for it. One day, he would cool off. One day, he would grow more reasonable and less prone to childish bouts of yelling at everyone. One day, he wouldn’t treat her like an object in their own marriage bed, forever taking his frustrations out on her even while they were supposed to be ‘making love.’

She always knew her hopes were a lie, though. She especially knew that to be true when she finally put the pieces together and realized the truth about King Talys’s murder.

In a way, parts of this really did align right with the worst nightmares her imagination dreamed up of back when she was worrying over the very idea of marriage, but even then, she was kind enough to herself to imagine a way out. She fantasized escaping and somehow running all the way back home, where her parents would regret ever giving her away. However, in the real world…that never happened. In reality, even when the nightmare had set in, she chose to lie, instead.

Her father saw the bruises and was outraged, but she lied and said that it wasn’t true; Ivo was good to her, just like her letters said. She knew that he wouldn’t believe her, but her point was clear—the truth wasn’t what they needed. What they needed was for this alliance between Davern and Atena to work. Even for all of her fears, and her rages, and her desires to be selfish, for once, Lorsulia knew she couldn’t do that. War with Radovia was on the horizon, and Davern was hopelessly outnumbered. Without Atena’s support, people would die. Thousands of people would die. So, she had no choice but to appease Ivo, even though he only grew angrier by the day. He was angry at his father’s death, angry at his mother’s continued sickness, angry at Davern’s supposed betrayal, and with all that anger, there was no room in his heart for anything else.

So Lorsulia tried. She tried and she tried to make things better, and she tried just to survive. Then, Ivo killed Dusty, and he told her to make him into a scarf. Lorsulia…couldn’t believe what she was seeing and what she was hearing, when it happened, and she marveled at how the killing of her cat filled her with more terror than the beatings ever could. Ivo had gone mad. He yelled and said that she paid more attention to “that cursed cat” than she did to him or to “her duties,” as if he ever truly wanted her in the first place and as if she was ever allowed to do anything besides sit there like an ornament. He spat off something about black cats being cursed with bad luck and being only suited for witches, and later, after Lorsulia’s horrible task was done, he sent that fur scarf to her family in Davern.

At that point, Lorsulia knew that she was a fool for ever trying to salvage this. Ivo would never help Davern, no matter what she did. War was on the horizon alright, but not with Radovia—Atena was going to be the one doing the attack. So, she tried again and again to send messages to her family. She called for help knowing there was nothing they could do, but…she tried. Finally, her attendants helped her sneak a message out, and later, they said that Davern was mobilizing against Atena, as if they knew that was what she was hoping for, but…

…but it was too late for her. She knew it would be. She was playing a dangerous game just to be doing anything at all, even if that thing was ultimately pointless. She wasn’t smart enough or strong enough to try to escape from this hell by herself. All she could do was wait for what fate had in store.

But…even so, she never expected that the end would come quite like this.

“YOU…YOU FOUL WITCH! How dare you bring this sorcery into my house!? I should have known…I should have known you would plot against me! I trusted you, and this is how you repay me!?”

Guards grabbed Lorsulia on both arms before the books and charms flung from Ivo’s hands even hit the ground. Magical articles clattered across the ballroom tile, causing gasps to erupt from the many people around them. A moment of chaos erupted as some backed away and others grew closer, alarmed cries and whispers emerging from all of them as they watched the banquet get so crudely interrupted by this sudden ‘revelation.’ Ivo was making a scene, and Lorsulia knew that he knew it.

“The princess is…IS A WITCH!?” one of the court ladies cried out with a swooning gesture. “Say it isn’t so!”

“It’s true,” Ivo growled. “I found this in her personal belongings. She’s been hexing us…bringing disease and disaster on this entire kingdom.”

Lorsulia felt her throat grow dry. She was…shocked, and at the same time, she wasn’t. This was what they were going to accuse her of? She thought she might be blamed for the poison, but this was… “None of that is mine,” she spoke, her voice somehow steady even though she felt she might faint. She…she should do more. She should be reacting more. Shouldn’t she be crying and raging right now? Convincing everyone of her innocence? And yet, the very idea was laughable to her, like even that would be playing into the game. It was true that those things weren’t hers—she had never so much as touched a spell book before in her life—but also, magic wasn’t a crime in Davern. Yes, opinions on it varied, but for the most part, a good healer witch was respected for their skills. How was she supposed to declare herself innocent, when she didn’t even possess any strong feelings for what she was declaring herself innocent from? She would still be living a lie, just like she had been every day since her wedding day.

“LIES!” Ivo shouted at her, the young king’s face growing red. “Your actions have already proven yourself many times over! You brought a black cat into this court, and you refuse to participate in our religious ceremonies to the gods!”

“Refuse!?” Oh. Oh now she had something to feel strongly about! “You wouldn’t let me go anywhere! I was barred from every ceremony you had!”

“And that’s because I could see how you were plotting! You hate Atena, don’t you!? The cold look in your eyes every day makes it obvious! So, you use black magic against us!”

“I did nothing to you!” she yelled back in kind, with the last energy she had. It was over. There was nothing left to pretend for, wasn’t there? She was really going to…

“No, your guiles won’t work on me anymore!” Ivo shouted back, this time with a veneer of nobility as he turned to the rest of the banquet guests, as if to finish his performance with a speech. “I’ve had enough! I tried to help Davern; I really did! But they poisoned my father, King Talys, and that treacherous King Eryck attempted to kill us all through the demonic schemes of his eldest daughter, by giving her to me to wed under the guise of friendship! But no…today, we’ve had enough! We will fight back against Davern, with everything we have! The entire world will know of their sins! We will conquer them with the full might of Atena! Now, will you fight with me!?”

Many in the crowd gave their fullhearted assent, or at least, their best impression of one. Lorsulia’s eyes narrowed as she stood there helplessly, the guards gripping her tight enough to leave a bruise.

“Now, guards! Throw this witch into the dungeons!”

+++

Lorsulia had done nothing to give her a reason to be here. It was not, however, hard for her, trapped in this cold, slimy cell deep beneath the castle, her fine Atenan dress still shining in stark contrast to her bleak surroundings, to imagine why she was here. It was all a game, in the end. She was a pawn to Ivo and to Atena at the beginning, and she was a pawn at the end. Everything Ivo felt towards her was what he felt toward her family and her homeland. He kept her around because she was his ticket to the Davernian throne, but now, he was getting rid of her, because he decided he had no need for that pretense anymore. Maybe, it was because he simply didn’t want to look at her anymore, or maybe, the whole charade was just doubling as a fine blood-boiling story to sell to his own people to rally them to his cause.

So, in the end, why Lorsulia was here had nothing to do with Lorsulia herself. However, she almost wished that it did.

She wished that she was stronger or braver or smarter, so that as soon as things went wrong, she could be the spy in Ivo’s bedchamber, ready to plunge the knife in his back either metaphorically or literally. She wished that she could have smuggled information back home, rather than risking her life just to send nothing but a call for help. She knew how foolish it was, and her own self of a year ago would have scoffed at her for it, but…she really did wish that she could have done something, so that when they decided it was time to kill her, she could say that she chose her own fate and took her own risks that led to this. So that she really could give him something to be angry about.

As it was, however, Lorsulia’s new ‘change’ in fortune was really no different than what she was doing before. She left with nothing but to sit there and wait for her fate. She shivered against the cold and absently rubbed her fingers across the dark bruises that were always kept hidden under her sleeves, and she thought. She thought about home, and about how much she missed it. She hoped that they were still okay. She hoped that Cedani never found out about Dusty’s death, and that perhaps, she found herself a new cat by now. She always did love her pets, and she was very attached to Dusty. She was always so enthusiastic about everything…she deserves to still be happy. Lorsulia also wondered about Asalia, and how she was doing right now. Seeing the way she was getting into learning swordplay, she probably fancied herself ready to defend the castle by now, although obviously, she shouldn’t. Asalia was always so headstrong… but, she was a good sister, too, if it weren’t for the pranks. Lorsulia regretted fighting with her so much in those last few weeks she had with them—she started it, of course, but… Lorsulia would give anything just to see them again. Asalia, Cedani, and Mom and Dad, too. She wanted to just…be a kid, again. Just this once. She had always tried so hard to be the ‘mature’ one of the three even while she subtly dreaded growing up, but thinking about it now, she would love to go back to those old memories, before she became so stressed, if she could…

It was a useless thought, but useless thoughts were all she was left with. Lorsulia spent far too much time with those thoughts, although she might also say that the solitude was a blessing in disguise for the brief moment being, but she kept doing her best to make peace with herself and her fate. Until, that is, some indeterminable but also relatively short time later, when she got an unexpected change in her situation, yet again…

“My lady! My lady…are you there?”

“What…Yelana?”

It was…one of Lorsulia’s attendants, one of the Atenan ladies-in-waiting who had been assigned to her. Lorsulia blinked in shock, pulling herself off the ground to meet the young woman standing at the bars of her cell. What was she doing here!?

“Oh, thank the stars you’re still alright!” Yelana let out a large sigh of relief, although ‘alright’ was an extremely relative term, right about now. “I wasn’t able to come last night, but the others helped me get through tonight. We don’t have a lot of time, though. His Majesty is trying to rush a trial; it’s probably going to be today, my lady…”

“I…I see.” Lorsulia nodded blankly, thinking in the back of her mind that honestly, she would prefer that ‘trial’ sooner rather than later, so that she could die now and not drag the nightmare out towards its inevitable conclusion any longer, but the stronger part of her mind was still just reeling in shock that Yelana was even here. There was no way that they would have allowed her down here, and that meant she took a risk, just to…warn her? Or was she really…? “But, I’m sorry, what…are you talking about? ‘We’ don’t have a lot of time?” she echoed in confusion, because obviously, she was the only one with a timer here, and no one else would…

“My lady,” Yelana spoke even more seriously now, her hand gripping the bar with a fervor. “The king…he made all of this up. Everyone knows it. We’re too afraid to do much, but…my lady, they’re…they want to burn you. The penalty for witches is being burned alive. Don’t you understand? Your life is in danger! So, you have to leave! Now!”

“L-Leave!?” Lorsulia sputtered. “But, I can’t! You don’t mean…?”

“Yes. I do,” Yelana said with startingly surety. Lorsulia stared back at her with disbelief. Yelana and the others…they had been kind to her, this whole time. They helped her smuggle that message back to her family. They told her information, and they covered for her, when Ivo was upset or when the more hostile attendants and court staff were trying to accuse her of something new. Lorsulia…wasn’t sure how that happened. She was glad for their companionship, in spite of how bleak things were. She just never thought they’d go this far. This was madness!

“We’re going to help you,” Yelana continued. “It’ll be difficult, but Maggie already got a hold of the keys and gave them to me. We just need to get you out of here and out of the castle, and you can run for the mountains!”

“Wait…no.” Lorsulia shook her head with a horror that squashed down her new unexpected flash of hope. “No, please, Yelana, I can’t ask you to do this! It’s dangerous! You haven’t even known me for long! Please, you have your lives and your jobs to think about. I won’t…”

“It’s okay.” Yelana shook her head with a sad smile, and distantly, Lorsulia realized that she had an accent which somehow never showed when they spoke before. “I promise, it’s not just for you. We…want out of this, too. His Majesty has grown mad. You’re…you’re not the only one he’s lashed out against. We want to leave, and we talked and supposed that it might as well be now. And as for me, well…I was taken from my village, a long time ago. I was captured and sold off, and I’ve never seen my family ever since. So, you see, my lady, I would really like to see them again, if I can.”

“Yelana…” Lorsulia said, feeling only even more breathless, now. She assumed that everyone here had been hired normally. She never would have thought… “I had no idea. I’m…sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s okay, my lady.” She smiled wider. “I’m just here to ask you about you; you don’t have to worry about me one bit. Because you see, you’re right. I could escape on my own much more easily. However, I want to help you. I haven’t forgotten your kindness to us. But my lady, it’s up to you. This is going to be a risk, and it might still end in disaster, but, what do you say? Do you want to try to escape, just this once?”

Lorsulia stared into Yelana’s smiling eyes, and she thought about it. She still felt whiplash over how quickly this just happened, but also, she was…happy. She was thankful and honored that they wanted to help her, even though the idea was a terrifying one. What if all she did was get everyone killed? She didn’t know what to do, and she wasn’t a leader. She wasn’t the master of her own fate—that was a thing only for her fantasies.

But…she could try.

Lorsulia…didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to give up. Still, she didn’t know how this would end. The final result could still be the same, or, her choice could mean something, this time. It wasn’t a choice she felt she could claim for herself, since it came only through the kindness of someone else, but, it was still a choice she could make. A thing she could do that wasn’t decided for her.

Because maybe, just once, just this once, Lorsulia wanted to let herself be selfish enough to decide her own destiny.

Lorsulia’s hands trembled in a way that didn’t happen when she got arrested. She felt already so numb then, but now, the color was pushing its way back into her again. “Thank you,” she said, truly meaning it with everything she had. “I don’t know if I could ever find a way good enough to repay you, but, I will try. Just be careful. Please.”

“Of course!” Yelana smiled again, and she looked completely out of place with the surroundings around them. Perhaps, they’ve both gone crazy. However, maybe, just maybe, that would still work for them. At least, they had to try. Whether she died or lived, Lorsulia would just have to try.

[heavenbarnes]

cosmos I just went thru all ur #loverposting and oh my godddd u lucked out so hard 😫 your partner sounds Iike the sweetest guy and I wish u all the best in ur relationship 💗

so sorry but vent incoming:

I'm actually going thru a crisis rn - I want to break up w my bf but it's not at all any of his fault, I just feel like it's a right person wrong time situation 😔 (ik its cringe being like oh its not u it's me type thing but it truly feels that way😭😭) there r so many things going on rn in both our lives and I feel as tho I'm not putting 100% into this relationship and he doesn't deserve that yk. and the problem is I don't know how to put this all into words and make him think he did something or that he's not good enough cause lately he's been doubting himself and his capabilities and putting all this on him rn may not be a good idea but ik that dragging it out is not healthy for me. I just don't feel the spark anymore but I akways feel guilty as he reminds me of his devotion everytime we communicate. is it shit of me to tell him I've lost feelings after all this time? I'm also worried he will spiral cause he has a tendency for his mood to change and go downhill very quickly and often times he's stuck in that mindset for so so long. honestly I'm worried of what he will do, I know it's not my responsibility how he will react but I'm scared of what may physically happen to him cause he's already prone to bad habits.

any advice would be appreciated - I have yet to tell my friends because everyone thinks we're endgame and a part of me feels as tho I'd be letting them down too 💔

sorry for the long ass message babe 💀

sorry i took a while to reply- work is taking every last thing out of me at the moment and i needed a second to process this 🫶🏼

i think you’ve got to look at this one of two ways-

first way, do you actually want to break up with him or is it all the things going on in your life making you feel like this relationship is one more thing that might go wrong? i’m not trying to talk you out of it by any means- but is the spark something that can come back?

second, if you definitely do want to break up, then i always recommend clear and open communication. unfortunately, you need to sit him down and have a really tough but honest talk. his reaction and what he might or might not do is not on you and it should not stop you from doing what you need to be happy.

you’re also not letting anyone down- you have to ensure your own happiness

i don’t think i’m telling you anything you don’t already know, but i really hope you take care of yourself and do what it takes to be happy x

[thebitchywitchyone]

I’ve got two jobs and I’m writing slow, but here’s a snippet of my brain rot to satisfy yours 💛

Lucanis smiles at her as they leave the eluvian room to climb the stairs up to the main level of the lighthouse. “You notice so much about us all, Neve. I don’t think I even know what color Emmrich’s eyes are.”

“They’re Hazel,” Neve says with absolute certainty. “A good deal of umber with flecks of emerald and chartreuse.”

Emmrich looks at her with no small measure of surprise as they mount the last step. “Why in the world do you-“

“Ah Rook!” Neve says loudly, drawing the other woman’s attention before she could finish crossing the vestibule and disappear into her room. “I’ve got that package of oil pastels from Cabbage and Sons. They send their regards.”

Imogen hurries over to excitedly accept the parcel. “Thank you, Neve! You didn’t have to do that.”

She shrugs. “It was on our way. They said they added a few extra on the house since you were going through them so quickly.”

He watches Imogen fold the unassuming brown paper back to look. “Oh! Emerald and chartreuse. That was nice of them; I have been using them quite a bit.”

She folds the paper back over her art supplies, carefully not looking in his direction as a blush rises over the apples of her cheeks. “Thanks again!”

Neve looks at him pointedly as she scampers off with her prize. He meets her gaze, heart thumping in his chest. It’s only when Imogen’s door is fully closed that he addresses her.

“Forgive me the assumption,” Emmrich starts slowly. “But I had been under the impression you didn’t approve of me. In general, or in this…circumstance.”

Neve smiles at him. “Rook’s a friend. I had to make sure you were the right sort.”

“Ah.” Emmrich swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. Neve waits for him. When he’s sure his voice will be steady he goes on. “As her friend you must know her quite well. The…casual flirtations she’s often prone to…”

Neve looks like she wants to laugh at him. She doesn’t, but he can suddenly see the seldom used smile lines on her face. Beside them Lucanis pretends to rub his chin in order to hide his grin behind a hand.

“I’ve never known Rook to be a casual flirt,” she tells him. “Or a flirt at all really. Her last relationship was- well. It was years ago and ended poorly. No one’s sparked her interest since.”

“No one?” He asks dumbly. That can’t be right. Imogen is witty and intelligent. She’s very easy to talk to, so ready with a kind word or to help those around her sort out their issues. Not to mention how stunning she always looks, with her dark hair and plush-

He’s blushing now, to the tips of his ears.

Lucanis claps him on the shoulder as he moves past him to escort the detective away with a quick “Good luck.” Emmrich almost misses the “and well done!” he also mumbles under his breath.

Yall, I need some fanfic recommendations. Preferably on AO3. With Emmrich x Rook (female or non binary). I’m looking for mutual pining, they don’t realize the other likes them, Emmrich being worried about his age, that type of thing. I’ve been reading “The Romantic Misadventures of Corva Aldwir” by MuseumCat on AO3 and that is super good I just need more.

I’ll also take spicy fic recs but mostly I want the fluff.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

A Tale for a Mouse- the full thing

TW: Cannibalism. Lots of it.

Oh, look who’s here! A measly mayfly mortal. Have you come looking for a story, little child? Have you come sniffing around for crumbs? Have you come seeking wisdom from the man who cheated the greatest warrior in existence, the one who took control of the most powerful empire with nothing but his wits and daring, the one and only Spirit Emperor?

Well, you're in luck, because I happen to be in a storytelling mood today. No head-chopping for old Hans-el tonight, oh no. Tonight is a night for song and dance. Miphala! Send for the musicians. Call in the chefs. And best of all, ready my court. This little mouse snuck into my house, and I do believe in being a good host, even to mice.

Now, what sort of tale do you seek, kina-ilra? One of derring-do? Perhaps the story of how the daring captain Cefalin stole the Amulet of Power under the Godhuntress' nose? Or would you rather a more traditional tale, like that of Celita's rescuing of our kinden? What about a myth, like Hari-hil's journey to the Lands Beyond Ours?

A story about me? Why, whatever might possess you to ask such a thing? There's naught left to be said of my life, child, save that which I would rather never unearth. The bards have sung of my every exploit, from the moment I arrived in the Capital to claim my blood-right. I do suppose I could tell you a story from the times before that, back when I was but a whelp in the forest. Would you like that, little ilra? Of course you would. The fact that your blood does not stain my lips this moment is an honour like no other.

Let me take you back to the era of good old Sarne-Hari, bless her remains that soak the earth. It was summer, and the bugs were all over us, back in the thicket of the Ko-clan. The stifling heat soaked bored little-me to the ectoplasm, and not even a dip in the creek would cure it. I craved adventure, a thrill to shake off the thick blanket of the weather. Lifez as always provided. Not long after I resolved myself to find some form of entertainment, of either the trouble-solving or trouble-causing variants, did something fall into Killinoa's supply barn. I, being the oldest child in the clan, got the privilege of volunteering to go investigate, with the reward of some grilled mottle-scorpion at the end of it. 

Do not give me that look, Fala. And most certainly do not spout that nonsense about boys being too fragile for such things. You should know well as any other that foresters care not if their whelps are male or female. We all ran about in our shifts, and painted our faces with the same paints. The other clans would have done well to learn from us. In fact, I might well make that my next edict. 'All children, be they male or female, ghost or spirit, pure or halfling, should be treated the very same'. How does that sound? Like it would make the stuffy old kvichii go to arms in outrage? Then I most certainly shall do it at the nearest opportunity.

Oh, but I digress! I suppose I have been boring you, little mouse. I merely needed to set the scene, put the drapes on the curtains, if I used the mortal metaphor correctly. I crawled into the splintered wood-shack all alone, with only a tiny viliche light to guide my way. Whatever had cracked the wood was a good hundred times heavier than one of our people, for I could have had our entire clan stand on that roof without making a dent in it. 

I, being a young boy and prone to the fancies that came with, thought our supply-intruder to be a leviathan of old, one of the great serpents in the sky. When no glittering mass of scale and webbing emerged from beneath the fallen beams, I downsized my expectations to a baby wyrm, shot out of the sky by the ever-aggressive harpies. Then, disappointed as I began pulling sacks of dried fruit and flour out of the wreckage, I downgraded my hopes again to find a matriarch of the aforementioned harpies who had been wounded horribly in a airborne clash, and who would be eternally grateful for my rescue and offer me a place as one of her retainers.

Tch! I swear in my own name if you dare so much as smile, Rinako, I will be drinking my soup from your hollowed out skull tonight. I tell this story as I remembered it, youthful folly and all, and you ought to show some respect. 'Tis the least our courageous little guest deserves, after all. 

Now that I think of it, however did you find your way in here, mortal mayfly? Honestly, I could do a better job of guarding than some of these hari'nilo. Someone go tell Cefalin to give all of them a good whipping, please.

I've wandered off again, have I not? I am afraid I simply go off every which way when given half a chance. Did I use that phrase correctly? I did? Ah, wonderful! Now I can return to the tale at hand.

After a good afternoon's worth of pulling large blocks of wood off various food products, I was angry, fed up, and perfectly willing to blame the entire misadventure on a fool dryad who had accidentally launched a branch up in the air. Then I found the creature to blame for Killinoa's predicament. And would you believe it? It was a mere mortal girl! 

Oh, but what a beauty she was, with the massive splinters digging into her flesh like a mega-porcupine had ravaged her. Blood stained her fair hair like sunset on a painter's brush, pooling in a fountain of clotted glory. She thrusted her throat most daringly to the world, and it was twisted past the point of usability. Her ghost had begun to emerge out of its dead chrysalis, pale ectoplasm bared to thin air. It could well have been the start of a fable, one about the warrior-princess who died tragically and became a ghost of vengeance, setting off to spill the blood of those who had wronged her and her clan. So I, casting myself in the role of her sidekick, hauled her out of her old body and welcomed her to the world with a smattering of dust and the reel of rotting onions.

She was no violent heroine, of course, just as I was no sweet sidekick. In fact, it turned out to be the very opposite. Whence she came out of rippling flesh and crackling bone, flush with blood as a babe from the womb, the innocence on her face was such that even one such as I could not delude myself: This girl was an ingenue, true as the winter grey of her eyes.

The first words out of her mouth were to express her gratitude for the rescue. She spoke trade-tongue, rough with an eastern accent, and for once I was grateful that I learnt how to speak it too. We both stumbled over our words, excited and not all that fluent in kinali.

From what I gathered, however, her name, back when she was alive, had been Berry. It was… Quaint, I suppose. Sweet and tart, just like her. Damn, but I miss that girl. I will miss her until the very end of time. 

She knew neither how she had ended up in a shattered barnyard a hundred li from her hometown of Semetera, nor why she could not recall a scrap of her past. We both chalked it up to ghost things, neither of us having had enough experience. 

Those were the days, you know. Sitting in the musty old place, me offering her some squirrel jerky, her spitting it out in disgust. I was not a lonely child, but I suppose the other youths recognised what I was to become, and avoided me thusly. Berry, however, cared not for spirit politics or soon-to-be Emperors. All she wanted was to recover the missing gaps in her memory, and find a way to go home.

Being young, I trusted my parents beyond any rhyme or reason. If anyone could solve that mystery, I thought, it had to be her. So I dragged my newfound ghost-friend back home, directly into a tribunal clan-court.

Do not give me that blank look. Have you never heard of the forest tribunal clan-courts? They were infamous back in my day! I say, you humans just do not know how to appreciate other cultures. Not that the foresters have much of a culture anymore.

I suppose I shall tell you about them, then. Once a sixteen-day, everyone in the clan, from the greatest warrior to the meekest hearth-tender, gets together to hear the wise words of our clan leader and her mate. In my time, the Ko-clan's chieftain was my beloved mother, Ji-annansciel the Kind. 

Wait— Kind is not the correct translation of that word. Us spirits have never considered charity to be a good thing. It is a weakness, a ‘softness’. 

Yes, that is the word. Soft. Ji-annansciel the Soft. She had many fascinating ideas, like not hunting children for sport and eating them before their mothers. Strange woman, my mother was. I suppose it was the only thing that saved Berry, when we put her upon the stand before a crew of hungry spirits who did not particularly care if they feasted upon a harpy or a ghost.

Yes, little one, before you ask any more, spirits and ghosts are similar visually. Yes, to the untrained eye, we are sister-species. And yes, if you attempt to suggest this to any spirit, you will find your head on a platter long before you get a chance to finish your sentence. 

Us spirits have long laboured to clear our good names from the mortal-tainted ghosts. That is why we have little tolerance for them. Even my mother, may her too-big heart rest in pieces, could only muster a grimace of distaste upon seeing Berry. 

If I had been any older, I suppose I might well have killed her back in that shack, and saved us all the trouble. But that would have meant my own death, too, the death of the person she made me into. So I guess I am glad I was young enough to love her truly, in that way only little ones know how to.

In any case, the tribunal did not approve of a mere boy dragging a filthy ghost before them all. We were unceremoniously thrown aside, her into a cell and me into my father's study, to be punished appropriately. I still have the scars on my back from my father's rage that day, for the whipping he gave me nearly left me dead. 

His words cut deeper, however. He told me his plans for Berry, of the things the whole clan would do when they finished dealing with serious matters, things that would rip my pure-hearted friend to shreds, physically and otherwise, things that I could not allow him to carry through with. 

So, when he left me lying on the floor in a pool of my own ectoplasm, laughing at my weakness, I struck. In hindsight, I do wonder why I had not thought of it before. It was laughably easy to carry out, with no planning necessary. So easy, and so very delicious. 

What did I do? Little mouse, is it not obvious? Do I need to spell out just what I did to save my friend?

Why, I ripped my father's throat out with my bare teeth, and gulped down his life like it were my own! Goodness, it makes me hungry even thinking about it. Someone ought to go tell the chefs that I want one of the death-row fools roasted for dinner.

Now, back to the story at hand. I launched myself with full force at good old Dad, tackled him, and had his tender flesh between my jaws in an instant. It was the surprise that did it, I suspect. He hardly had any time to widen his eyes before I crunched down on my first kill.

I must tell you, eating family is a delicacy like no other. I have feasted upon every species known to my kind, in every manner possible, but never did I know such pleasure as when I gnawed at my progenitor's flesh. I ate him whole, eyes, hair and bone. I think I may well have consumed his soul entirely, the shriveled old thing that it was.

It gave me the strength to pull my bleeding, bruised body down to the prison, the one part of the village that was below ground. Berry was there, no worse for wear. It heartened me so, to see her grimy face light up when she saw me. I set to freeing her immediately, pulling at her chains with all the vigour of a dying boy.

But no boy's teeth and no boy's fingers can possibly pull apart a chain of enchanted steel. I had barely made a scratch in the thing when the tribunal's guards returned. They were most unamused to find me there. 

We were once again hauled away, this time to face my mother alone. She looked at my bloody mouth and the wounds across my back that were already naught more than scars, and knew that I killed my father. 

I could tell you a million lies, little mouse, about how I wept and begged for forgiveness, about the regret that tore my heart asunder, about the guilt that dogs my steps to this day. But the truth is I regretted nothing. I met my mother's gaze with pride and smiled my grimmest smile and awaited my punishment, holding my friend's hand all the while.

My mother's softness, that which had run a thousand years, ran out then. You should have seen the emotion in her eyes. First it was shock, quick as lightning, that her mate could be defeated by a runt like me. Then grief, the wheels of her mind speeding out of control, the kind that wipes away reason. Finally she landed on rage, bloody rip-out-the-roots rage, like that which the Godhuntress channelled against my people.

The worst of it was the blankness of her face. Her lips were set in a line, forehead unwrinkled. Only the glistening of her eyes betrayed her. She whipped out her blade, swift as any warrior queen, and swung it at me. 

I was wounded, weak, worthless in a fight. There was no time to jerk myself out of the way, no time to parry even if I had a weapon of my own. I watched that edge speed towards me, and with it, my death.

As I am sure you know, it never reached me. So you can stop your gawping, Rin. Are you a soldier or a washerboy, to hang on a storyteller's every word? Besides, this story is not for you. It is for my dearest mouse-guest. Enjoying the tale, mouse? I do hope you are.

I must admit— I do not know how it happened. I do not even know what exactly happened, save that my mother died and I did not. All I knew was that my dear ghost-friend reached out her hand and screamed, the very epitome of mortal foolishness, and it was over. My mother, a spirit of three hundred years and five days, keeled over. 

Anticlimactic? Life often is. I knelt over my mother, and above the disgusted retching of a girl who had never seen someone eat his mother, gulped her down too. Her flesh tasted sour, like the regret I should have felt. It tasted like the sorrows of one older than I, of one who had seen lives run their course and made mistakes a boy could not fathom. It tasted like adulthood, and I liked it not one bit.

But I came into adulthood anyway, just as we all do, and with it came a throne. A small one, of course, for the Ko clan was hardly the greatest of clans. 

Why me? Well, the tribunal had seen my mother, Berry and I go into her office, and only two of us emerge, and came to the obvious conclusion.

Believe me, the tribunal was sorely unhappy with me. Fortunately, none of them were willing to argue with a boy drenched in his parents' viscera. So, in the fashion of governance rites since time immemorial, they just plopped the crown atop the slayer of their previous ruler. That is to say: Me.

Do not laugh, mouse. Not one word of it was a lie. They had to pick between me and Berry, who had the sense to deny any part in our ectoplasmic ‘festivities’. And it seems that in the battle between male and ghost, the good old bigots would rather one of the ‘lesser sex’ reign.

And that was the story of how I became clan leader. 'Tis not particularly glamorous, unfortunately, which is why the bards do not bother singing of it. They would rather tell of my battling the Godhuntress, or my duel against Mari'alle. 

So— with that fitting conclusion, our little tale has come to an end. I suppose, before you go, I ought to give you what you came for.

Oh, don't look so surprised! Did you really think I did not know what you were, little mouse? Mark my words, you are a thief, a filthy little thief and no less.

Now, do you know what we do with filthy little thieves? Do we string dip them in the finest honey, string them up by their guts, and leave them for the crows? Or perhaps shall we nail your fingers to your back and make sure you never thieve again? 

Miphala, fetch me my baubles! It's time to give the mouse what it deserves. Little mouse, any last words?

Oh, don't beg for mercy! Did you not listen to the story? Us spirits don't believe in mercy. We believe in power, cunning, and chutzpah.

And you, little mouse, have all 3. Miphala, show the boy my baubles, will you? None of them are particularly special, but I figure it would be enough to say ‘I stole from the Spirit Emperor himself and got away with it'. 

Picking the necklace, I see. It is gorgeous. Fae make, if I remember correctly. It belonged to an Empress long before me, a woman with more mana than brain. Shame, honestly, how she died. But that's a tale for another time, and you are not welcome to come back once more. In fact, should I find you sniffing about my palace again, I will crystallise your precious eyes and make them into earrings for the next fool mouse.

So run along, little one. Scurry back to your warren. Go home, rest in the arms of the one you love, and when you are old and dying, tell your grand-whelps of me. Tell them of the Spirit Emperor, Hans-el, he who told a tale to a little mouse.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@xenascribbles,

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[saturnrevolution]

retrogrades: a guide

Do you know that feeling when you to have the illusion that the vehicle you are in is moving backwards in comparison to the vehicle on your side or vice versa? This illusion is very similar to retrogrades. Due to the different speed other planets are orbiting the Sun with, whenever they are parallel to the Earth, it seems as if those planets are moving backwards. However, this is just an illusion, as seen from Earth for a short period of time. As astrology is all about the details, this illusion has a significant impact on our energy, both collectively and individually.

How often do retrogrades happen & what do they mean collectively?

Think of retrogrades as a period when a planet becomes more introverted, so it expresses that energy in an inwardly focused way. These are times of introspection and planning. You take a break in that area of your life in order to asses before taking action. That's why, starting things during retrogrades might not be the best idea, as it will always make you turn back and reassess what you started anyway.

The Sun and the Moon are never in retrograde. Besides these, all the other planetary bodies do go retrograde. The further the planet is from the Sun, the less often retrogrades happening.

Mercury is the one that goes retrograde most often, about 3-4 times a year and it stays in that motion for about 3 weeks at a time. Mercury rules communication, short distance travel and technology, siblings. So whenever it goes retrograde, we are likely to experience delays or feel more introverted about these energies.

Venus goes retrograde every 18 months and usually stays retrograde for about 40 days. So, whenever Venus is retrograde, we might feel more shy in our love life, feel things moving slower in terms of money or even plan to redecorate our house.

Mars goes retrograde every 2 years and usually stays retrograde for about 70 days. Mars is a fiery planet, so when it goes retrograde, it might make us feel like that fire is within us, which can mean bottling up anger or building motivation.

Jupiter goes retrograde every 13 months, lasting for about 4 months. Jupiter is all about luck and abundance, also indulgence, so this can be a time when we manifest better with our own mind.

Saturn goes retrograde every 1 year and it lasts for about 4.5 months. Saturn means rules and lessons, so it being retrograde can show a time of self discipline.

Uranus goes retrograde every 1 year and stays for about 5 months. Uranus is all about spontaneity, rebelling against the world and activism. It going retrograde can mean we feel more called to asses what we stand for.

Neptune goes retrograde every 1 year and stays for over 5 months. Neptune rules imagination, dreams and addiction. We might feel like we are having more dreams, feeling inspired, but also foggy, lost, giving into addictions easier.

Pluto goes retrograde every 1 year for about 5-6 months. Pluto is all about fears and intensity, so it can mean having to deal with some traumas from the past in order to heal from it.

Considering the fact that retrogrades are an illusion, it might seem as if they are holding us back, making things move slower. When in reality, they are helping us asses what we avoided to deal with in the first place and help us grow - so at the end of the day we are still moving advancing trough inner work.

Were you born during retrograde?

Do not panic - it is more common to be born during at least one retrograded cycle than to be born during a period when there are no retrogrades. However, the energy in your chart is felt differently if that is the case. Here's what it means:

No planets in retrograde: I see this as a straightforward chart, the energy of the planets in your chart are all expressed outwardly and this is why retrograde transits might be really introspective times for you.

Born during Mercury retrograde - these people are really good at assimilating information and details, but might have a difficult time with expressing it outwardly. It's nothing impossible, it might just take a bit of practice to feel safe enough to show their rich inner world.

Born during Venus retrograde - these people are very resourceful and know how to use their skills to make money. They might be a bit introverted in terms of showing love or when faced with love from someone else, as they like to take their time and asses at first.

Born during Mars retrograde - these people have a lot of inner motivation and strength and even if they might not show it outwardly as directly as others, they have their own way of dealing with anger or conflict that works for them and helps them succeed on their terms.

*IMPORTANT: Planets from Jupiter to Pluto are not personal planets, so if you were born under these retrogrades, the things written below will be felt less than if you were born with Venus, Mars or Mercury in retrograde.

Born during Jupiter retrograde - these people are most likely to make their own luck, they seek to find meaning in life and to explore. If they put their mind to it, they can be great manifestos in terms of their spirituality. At the same time, outer abundance might come only after they figure out this inner meaning.

Born during Saturn retrograde - these people have their own set of rules and order in which they thrive. When someone invades this order, they might feel disturbed. The key here is not to change their order, but to learn to communicate their needs better.

Born during Uranus retrograde - these people are sure of what they believe in, they might get random sparks of ideas, but they might feel as if some of their ideas or interests are too "strange" for others to understand and might want to keep it to themselves.

Born during Neptune retrograde - these people are more sensitive in nature and prone to feel the hurt of the world, they are empathetic, but might find it difficult to express their feelings fully at times.

Born during Pluto retrograde - these people might deal with a lot of inner fears, but they are really good at hiding them and they usually enjoy doing inner work and finding the cause of the fears and past traumas alone.

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