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toxicanonymity · 1 year

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The Contractor. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 6 of 6)

4k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader / pt 1 / master list

STORY MASTER LIST

Warnings/Notes: I8+ some angst, dry (wet?) humping, unsafe PIV SEX (!), legal age gap. Acronyms - RICO is about organized crime. barely edited.

It’s so close. It’s finally here. His hand slides under your shirt, runs over your back then pulls you closer. He feels so good, it’s like a dream. But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in. You want the truth. You pry your lips away from his, and right away, he latches onto your neck. “What did my Dad want?” you ask. Between kisses, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”

Joel shows you his phone and your dad is at the gate. He thinks in silence for a moment.

“Well, we’re not doing anything,” you offer, but your heart is pounding. “Don’t let him in.”

“I’ve gotta let him in. What’s he gonna think if I don’t?”

He rubs his beard and opens his home automation app. “You’re in the pool house,” he decides. He turns on a dim light in the pool house.

“What does he want?” you ask.

“Hell if I know. Go through the basement.”

“No way.”

“Come on, Trouble.”

“I’m not going through the tunnel alone.”

He seems endeared by your fear. “Do it for us,” he says with a wink that makes your heart jump. Then he gets up to take the drinks to the sink.

“Wait,” you say.

He freezes.

“What were you gonna say? Now that I know . . . ?”

“Now that you know, I don’t have to worry about you finding out later and being mad.”

You kind of doubt that’s what he was going to say. “I’m mad anyway,” you say.

“Figured. It’s okay.”

A car door opens and closes.

“Go,” he whispers. “I’ll come get you when he’s gone.”

You make it to the pantry stairs just in time.

When your dad comes in, Joel says, “Welcome back.”

Your dad asks, “Where’s my girl?”

“Sleepin’ it off in the pool house, I reckon. Didn’t want her to drive.”

There’s a long pause and your heart races.

Your dad says, “Good, good. . .thanks.”

Damn, Joel is smooth. He asks your dad, “Somethin’ you didn’t wanna call about?”

“Yeah. . .”

You’re tempted to stay and hear more, but you’re also afraid of what you might hear. You creep down the stairs quietly. You think about going to the theater instead and waiting in one of those recliners. It’s silly, but you really don’t want to go underground to the pool house. The tunnel is climate controlled and has automatic lights, but it’s still spooky without windows.

You’re standing near the tunnel entrance trying to work up your nerve when you hear raised voices, and now you can’t resist. You quietly make your way back toward the stairs to listen. If no one is going to tell you what’s going on, this is your chance to find out. It occurs to you there’s no reason for you to go all the way to the pool house except that Joel doesn't want you to hear this. Otherwise, you could have hidden anywhere and your dad would be none the wiser.

A cabinet slams shut and Joel demands, “How many aren’t you tellin’ me about?”

“Not tellin’ you? I just found out! I’m not in charge, you know that.” Glasses clink with ice.

“North of the fuckin’ border again. God damnit,” Joel says. He’s even more heated than he was in the car the other day.

Your dad asks, “What do I have to do to get you all in on this? Let’s get it done and be done with it.”

“You know what I want. I want out.”

“You’ll be out.”

“I want it in writing.”

Your dad scoffs. “You want a paper trail now? When the whole point was to keep your charges off paper?”

“Not the charges, damnit.”

“Then what do you want in writing? You made some bad guys go away in exchange for evidence going away, now we’re square?”

“It was supposed to be a six month contract. Here we are, how many renewals later? And I’m still consulting.” You can picture the air quotes with the way he says it.

“Still better than 20 years for RICO,” your dad says.

“Never woulda gotten the max. . . You know what? At least the wiseguys have a code.”

Your dad sharpens his tone. “Ever wonder what happened to that evidence?”

“FUCK” A glass shatters. “I’m never gettin’ out. Just say it.”

“This is the last-”

“Don’t string me along with this one last job bullshit, then the job’s a whole fuckin’ cartel. Call it what it is. I’m an asset. Not a contractor if I don’t got a fuckin’ choice.”

“You’re gonna be out.”

“You won’t even give me your word.”

“Joel, you have my word.”

“Alright,” Joel calms down a little. “And what about you? You ever think about your daughter in all this? You want her on tiktok seein’ your head roll off one day ‘cause you couldn’t take the loss and retire?”

“Don’t talk about my daughter.”

There’s a moment of silence, then your dad continues.

“We’re on the same team, buddy. I want this over as bad as you do. C’mon, let’s look at the intel.”

You’re sick to your stomach. Whatever this is sounds like it’s about your dad’s ego. What’s new. You shrink back to the tunnel and jog through it so it’s over fast.

You’re laying on the couch in the pool house, and you don’t even want to think about what you just heard. So you’re replaying the earlier conversation in your head. The one about your stepmother and . . . gross. Something doesn’t sit right about it. You’re trying to figure out why Joel would have felt guilty for you blackmailing him into sex.

It hits you that the only reason he’d feel guilty is if it were his doing. . . If he realized you thought you had leverage and saw an opportunity. Deprive you, make you want it that bad, see if you’d try to twist his arm into it. And once you got there, game over? Was he just getting off on having the power all along? Then you ask yourself the real question. If that’s the case . . . do you wish none of it ever happened? It’s an easy no.

So you put that to rest and can’t help but think about what you overheard between Joel and your dad. You want to know how this all happened, but from the way Joel was talking about heads rolling off, you’re most worried about what he and your dad are up to right now. You want to hear it from Joel. You want to know what his real job is. The truth might be the only thing you want more than to fuck him. And if he won’t tell you the truth, maybe he doesn’t deserve the latter.

You’re exhausted from being in the sun all day. There’s a big, heavy blanket – silky, not exactly cozy. It’s like a rich guy blanket, probably put there by an interior decorator. You curl up on the oversized couch and pull it over you. There’s a bedroom, but you don’t expect this to take as long as it does, so you don’t get in bed. You stay on the couch. It feels like Joel is taking forever, but you’re too tired to even look at the time. You take off your shorts and bra, swaddle yourself in the blanket, and drift off.

You don’t hear Joel come in or take off his pants or put his stuff on the table. You feel cold for a moment when he lifts the blanket, but then he gets under it with you and takes you into his arms, and he’s warm.

You stir, and Joel whispers, “You wanna get in bed?”

You shake your head no.

“It’s right there . . .”

“No,” you manage weakly. You’re not remembering any of the drama at the moment, just enjoying being in his arms and too sleepy to move.

“Ok,” he whispers, and kisses you on the head. You fall back asleep with your head in the crook of his neck.

. . .

In the middle of the night, you wake up in his arms with one of his legs hooked over both of yours and his boxers pressed against your panties, which are soaked with arousal, you can feel it. He’s only somewhat hard, but it’s enough to make you need it, bad. He smells freshly showered but you can still catch a hint of his sweat, which makes you need it worse. Your nose brushes his beard as you look up at his face.

He blinks awake with sleepy eyes. He presses his lips into yours for a long kiss that starts light, affectionate, closed-mouth, then becomes desperate, invasive. You accept his tongue greedily. He hardens right against your crotch. His hips roll into yours, and before long, he’s rock hard, and you softly moan “mmm” into his mouth.

He whispers, “Are you on-”

“Yeah,” you cut him off. Then he covers your mouth with his lips again. Yeah, you’re on birth control, and the question makes you throb as he kisses you. It’s so close. It’s finally here. It’s grinding into you right now. His hand slides under your shirt and runs over your bare back, pulling you closer against him, and he moans softly. He feels so good, it’s like a dream.

But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in. You really, really want the truth. It dawns on you this might be your best shot at getting it.

You pry your lips away from his, and right away he latches onto your neck.

“What did my Dad want?” you ask him.

Between kisses on your neck, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” you demand.

He rolls his arousal into your clit and you bite your lip to suppress a moan while you wait for his answer.

“Not now, sugar. . .”

He lifts your shirt swiftly but smoothly and palms a breast, then is hard-on drags down your thigh and you feel a damp spot on his boxers. He takes your nipple into his mouth while he pulls your shirt off, and you help him, despite your reservations. You need the truth, but you’re aching. Your body needs to be filled by his.

“Not now. . . so, when?” you ask.

“When I’m back,” he sighs.

“Back from what?”

He doesn’t answer. He lightly drags his lips over the top curve of your breast, over your shoulder, up your throat, your jaw, to your ear.

His boxers find your drenched panties again and press against you in just the right place. He’s so stiff, it takes your breath away, and a soft moan falls out of your mouth. He whispers, “This is all that matters,” and you want him to be right so bad. He nibbles then sucks your neck right under your ear. He grinds his rock-hard member into you in a slow rhythm at just the right angle.

“This,” he says, looking from your eyes to your mouth and back. He wraps his arms around you, grinding into you rhythmically. He kisses you again, and his tongue erases whatever words were on yours. Blood rushes to your lips with the gentle suction of his own. With his face still on yours, he slowly, carefully takes his boxers off under the blanket.

You slide your hand down his abdomen and your breath hitches as you graze the light padding of his lower stomach. You find that small, circular scar and gently caress it. He flinches, then moves your hand to his cock. It sends a bolt of need to your aching clit, but you still have to ask.

“What’s it from?”

“C’mere,” he says, and latches onto your mouth again as he thrusts into your hand.

You want his lips on yours forever. You want nothing more than to just give in and fuck him. You push yourself up with your arm and he rolls onto his back. You shrug off the blanket. He watches you in a trance as you straddle him with his cock still in your hand. You thumb his scar again and he says, “you know I served.” Right. Of course.

His stomach rises and falls, and his head tilts slightly as he watches you nestle his naked cock at your drenched, silky underwear, right against your clit. You roll your hips into him and moan at the friction.

“Let’s lose these, sugar,” he pants. He hooks his fingers into your underwear and you lift each leg to slowly slip out of them.

You settle back in, then close your eyes, tilt your hips, and use him to pleasure yourself. You drag along his cock, from your clit to your dripping entrance and back, making his manhood shine with you, and he groans. Then you lay your hips onto his again and his hips rock against you, with his unfathomably hard cock gliding firmly against your slick.

He moans and breathes heavily. “I gotta be inside you, sugar,“ he says as he grinds into you rhythmically.

“I’ve gotta know the truth,” you reply, but it physically pains you.

He groans. “Fuck,” he pants. “What do you wanna know?”

“What you’re up to,” you say as you use your hips to massage yourself with his stiff manhood.

He takes a deep breath. “It’s complicated,” he says, and you inwardly acknowledge he’s probably right. You stop moving and start to back yourself down his thighs. You bend at the hip and hover over his cock.

“Are you still in construction?” You stroke him slowly.

“Still own the business.” He adjusts his hips under you.

“But that’s not all you do.” You bring it almost to your mouth and take a deep whiff of his musk which makes you twitch with need.

“No,” he quietly admits.

You think about how to simplify this and get it over with. You throw caution to the wind and ask, “Do you kill people?” You thumb the precum beading at his tip. No immediate answer. Then, you take his salty tip into your mouth for just a kiss and he groans. You take it out.

He sighs. “You really wanna know?” He thrusts into your hand.

You give it another kiss. “Yeah.”

You slowly crawl back up his body and lay half on him and he rolls toward you so you’re on your side like before. You hook your top leg over him. You search his eyes for an answer, but he looks down at your bodies instead. His large hand engulfs your ass cheek, caresses it with his palm, then gives it a firm squeeze and pulls you hard against him, and your wet pussy meets his stiff cock again.

“What do you think?” He asks quietly, then buries his nose in your neck and whispers, “Cause you’re prolly right.” Your heart skips a beat. You wanted more, but at the same time, it feels like he just told you everything he has to tell - or that’s what you’re trying to believe, for your body’s sake. You don’t feel anything about what he just said. All you feel is him, and that’s all you want.

He groans as he grinds into you, and his neck vein bulges. He rolls his arousal harder against your slick seam and kisses your neck. “Come on, sugar,” he says.

You open your mouth but don’t have any words, you can only breathe. He ruts against you again and you close your eyes with a moan. You’re throbbing, physically aching, swollen with need, dying to have him.

“Gotta be inside you now baby,” Joel repeats, smooth and low. He thrusts hard against your clit, slow, but so hard. His mouth devours yours, and your nipples harden against his broad chest. When his stiff member drags back down your clit, he hesitates at your entrance, then puts his hand on your ass, and the tip of his cock is caught by a tilt of your hips. Tension swells and tightens deep within you.

He begins to slowly push the firm head of his cock into your tight, wet hole and reads your face. You have to remind yourself to breathe. Your brow furrows. You bite your lip and inhale through your nose. You both adjust your hips so the angle is just right. He pushes a little more, and the stretch of his girth makes your whole body dizzy and desperate for more. He pauses and you just barely nod.

The arm under you pulls you closer with his hand flat on your back while his other hand braces on your leg that’s hooked over him. Then he pushes his stiff length into you with a grunt that becomes a loud sigh, and you gasp as his thick cock makes room for itself inside you. He pauses when he’s mostly in, and you look into each other’s eyes.

“Now fuck me,” you whisper.

“Yes ma’am,” he growls. He backs out all but the tip, then plunges into you completely. Your mouth falls open with a moan as your bodies are finally joined and he bottoms out with a shudder.

His lips latch onto yours as he retreats, then slams into you again with a grunt. He buries himself in you, slow and hard, each time somehow better than the last. Your hips roll into him, and together, you gradually up the tempo. You kiss sloppily, half your mouths breathing heavily and vocalizing against each other’s cheek. Each exhale is a moan.

His hips roll fluidly against yours and his whole body tells you how bad he’s been wanting this. Every time he fills you up, you could cry from how good it feels. He opens his mouth wide and puts it on your neck again, gently sucking your delicate skin into his mouth. He grabs hold of your ass and uses the arm under you to gently put you on your back without fully pulling out. Your legs wrap around him and he sheathes himself entirely once again.

You hook your fingers under the bottom hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He takes in the view of your whole body again before he leans back down.

“You look so goddamn hot,” he says, looking down at you, thrusting into you. He looks hot, too.

The moonlight reveals a faint farmer’s tan from the barbecue. His pecs and triceps are pumped up and flexing as he moves in rhythm. His hair is messy and perfect. The silver bits of his beard glisten.

He leaves space between you and reaches down to thumb your clit, almost putting you over the edge, but you quickly take his hand and pull his body back into yours.

“About to come?” he asks. You nod and take a deep breath. He thrusts into you hard then slowly rocks his hips deep inside you with his neatly trimmed hair grinding into your clit. The tension bursts inside you and you groan his name as a massive wave of pleasure overwhelms you. Then another. You clench around him and your body jerks erratically. Your nipples go almost painfully hard and drag against him.

He pushes deeper than you thought possible, balls tightening against your ass, and you gasp and moan. Then he grunts, pulses inside you, and his whole body shudders as you milk his cock. You keep pulsing as he fills you up with his seed. Your whole body is drunk with him. When you’re both finished coming, he looks at you, and himself, then you again as he catches his breath. He strokes your face and says, “god damn.”

You almost forget you’re two different bodies until he slides out of you, leaving a void your insides try to fill. He lays on his side and takes you in his arms again.

He looks so peaceful. At the moment, you don’t care if you still don't know what’s going on. You don’t even care if he manipulated you into wanting this so desperately. All you care about is whether this is going to happen again, and you’re terrified of finding out it’s not. You start to worry about him going to do this job.

After a long silence, you say, “You don’t wanna do it, do you?”

“Do what?”

“Whatever you have to go and do.”

The peace evaporates from his face. He sighs. “No. . . No, I don’t, sugar.” He rubs his temples with the thumb and pinky of one massive hand.

“Then why do it?”

“No choice,” he says.

“That’s messed up,” you say. “I mean, not having a choice.”

“Yeah, well, it was my own dumb ass. Thought I was gettin’ outta somethin’ worse. Didn’t know what I was gettin’ into.”

“How do you get out of it now?”

“Finish the job, call it a day, see what happens.”

“Really?”

“It’s been a long time comin’.”

A couple seconds after he says it, a little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t have to make the joke out loud. You playfully pinch his cheek.

“Worth the wait?” he asks with a smirk.

You shrug, and he says, “I’ll take it.” You can feel your whole face and body glowing. You don’t need to spell it out.

You get pensive thinking about why now, why tonight. “You weren’t just pissed at my dad, were you?”

He chuckles, then almost seems to panic when he sees you’re serious. “God, no, Trouble. . . “ His heart rate visibly quickens on his neck. He didn’t even have to ask you what you meant. He wraps his arms tight around you and kisses your head.

“So whatever happened to ‘not tonight’?” you ask.

“Couldn’t help it,” he says. “Neither could you.” Well, that’s true. “Plus, now I don't have to worry ‘bout you findin’ out you didn’t blackmail me. That woulda broken your sick little heart.”

“Maybe,” you say, still a little paranoid, but you push the thoughts away.

“I don’t think your dad needs to know about this,” he says. “That woulda been a sick serve though if I was mad at him,” he chuckles.

“Did you just say sick serve. . . “

“Sick serve,” he whispers in your ear.

“I don’t think that means what you– where do you pick this stuff up, anyway?”

“Prolly Jesse, he never shuts up.”

“So, Jesse’s-”

Joel puts his thumb on your lips. “Said too much already,” he says. “ You gotta keep it to yourself, okay?” You give his thumb a little bite before he takes it away.

It’s funny, you never had anything over him before, but now you kinda do. Not that you’ll do anything with it. Too dangerous.

“Yeah,” you say.

After a long silence, you ask, “What are you gonna do when it’s over?”

He sighs and adjusts his arms around you. “This right here,” he says. “If you want.”

You fall asleep in his arms again.

When you wake up, he’s gone. It’s light outside. Birds are chirping. You have a text from him that says “Stay here if you want. Back in a couple days.” You don’t stay there. It’s too creepy without him. You go back to your apartment, but you worry about him a lot and check your phone constantly. A few days later, you get off work, and when you walk out of the bookstore, he’s parked there, leaning against his truck, ankles crossed, wearing Ray Bans and a t-shirt, jeans as tight as ever, arms tucked under his massive biceps.

“Here comes trouble” he says as he pushes himself off his truck. He puts his hands on his hips and lets his pants adjust as he pops out one knee.

Your lips meet as he wraps his arms around you.

“All done?” you ask.

“Let’s celebrate,” he says. “Got that same suite on the river. Booked it for the rest of the month, so I reckon I’ll be around.”

Thank you for reading and engaging with this story for all six parts, y'all have been so awesome!

FWIW I see this as a happy ending with ominous undertones lol. I think I will come back to these two in the future (assuming there's still interest now that they've fucked). That's why I didn't blow my whole load in over explaining the subplot in this part. I initially included the sub plot so there would be an interesting basis to come back to them after the main story.

I just started another (darker) dad's best friend story: Left in Lincoln. In addition to smut it's also slow burn horror but no gore. Heed warnings. . .

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro @ausamocee @skythighs @jasminedragon @leeeesahhh @blushynini @momia2910

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #perdo pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#toxicdbf #dbf!joel #pervy!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #content label

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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AITA for telling mom to stop giving me unhealthy food and then refusing to say "I love you" back?

I (16, FtM) am autistic, for the longest time I struggled with eating different types of foods, in fact, i only started eating vegetables when I was 16 because my nutritionist told me to. Since I have memory, i've been teased by my weight, all my life. It led me to make decisions i'm not very proud of (like getting groomed at 8-9 years old), because of my low self esteem.

I've gone to the nutritionist a total of 2 times in my life, but in my opinion i should've gone more but my parents didn't seem to think the same. Both of those times the doctors told me I was a little overweight. They didn't tell me i was obese or morbidly obese which thank god because I would've broken down and kms (not really but even thinking of getting told that makes me anxious).

They did tell me to start eating more food other than fried food and other type of stuff. After the meeting, my parents started scolding me for embarrassing them in front of the doctor, but all i did was being brutally honest with her! I told her how my parents keep buying flavored water which has at least 2 stamps in it (The government makes it so that companies have to put stamps on their products saying what's exactly in it), so the only source of natural water is the one we boil ourselves, which i drink every time i do exercise. And also how the dinner mom makes is sausages and french fries, it's quick and easy. This last week I've eating that dinner two times and on the weekend i ate fast food for lunch, on Saturday and Sunday which means TWICE. By the end I was so worried i might have to double my exercise next week (so now) to balance it off. I felt really fat on monday so uh not a good feeling.

For my part, I've had this discussion with my P.E teacher, and she agreed to make me play basketball more so i can both exercise at home and more at school other than P.E class. I've also done the effort of eating vegetables (which due to my autism it was very hard at first but I've gotten the hang of it!) And doing more exercise at school.

But even when mom agreed to start feeding me more healthy foods, it's like she gave up. She's gone back to giving me the same lazy foods that are filled with cholesterol and grease, and every time i eat those it makes me feel worried. Tonight was one of those dinners and all i want is to get it out of my system (literally).

I told mom she can't keep feeding me like this if she wants me to lose weight, and she responds by saying "but what can we feed you? You don't eat anything else" which? Fucking excuse me? WHAT DO YOU THINK I'VE BEEN DOING FOR THE PAST MONTHS??? She always says that, it's like whenever i eat entire salads she fucking ignores me or something! It makes me feel so angry, fuck my efforts i guess???

I got more angry, but she's my mom, so i decided to shut up. Since i was getting ready to bed once i got comfortable she told me "I love you", which is a normal habit we have every time i go to bed. She says "i love you" i say it back. But this time I didn't, and she just sighed and closed the door.

Right now i'm really mad at her, but i recognize that maybe not saying "I love you" back was a bit too much, but if i have to stop saying it at all for her to understand I want to lose weight, then so be it. If she doesn't want to recognize im the only one doing the effort, whatever. I'm thinking of starting to refuse her food to make myself clear.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #eating disorder cw

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libraford · 2 years

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Obviously, I have opinions about the word 'queer.' There's historical precedence for the broad usage of this word and there are multiple posts about those contexts.

But that's only some of the reason that I choose this word to describe myself.

You know... growing up in Indiana in the 90s I didn't get exposed to the community. There was some ruckus about it at church a few times, the AIDS epidemic was background noise, and we had one gay bar that got closed down by the time I was old enough to go there.

I was outed against my will when I was seven, in 1993, when it was still very much a social death sentence in the suburban midwest. Twenty-one years before marriage was even halfway legal. And I was called all manner of things, including 'queer.' But the word that hurt the most, really hit me deeply in my soul...

...was 'lesbian.'

Lesbian is the accepted term for a woman who seeks relationships with women (the community's own gatekeeping aside.) It is one of the main letters in the acronym. There is nothing wrong with the word 'lesbian.'

But it was the way that they said it. That fucking lesbian. What are you, a lesbo? Dont sit with her, shes a lesbian.

This was paired with projectile rocks, bottles, some elaborate pranks and some less than elaborate.

This went on for eleven years. In high school our Gay-Straight-Alliance had about five people, and it was made up of two people I was sort of friends with and three people who had been throwing rocks at me. It wasnt a safe place.

And I had yet to kiss a single girl. Whole high school experience, couldnt even think about dating because I was too busy trying to shake that word off of me.

Maybe if someone said it nicely to me just once I wouldnt have felt like I was scraping the label off of me every day.

Get to college, I hear the phrase 'queer studies.' The word felt like pins on the back of my neck because I'd heard that word, too. But today it was a friendly word, a thing you could study. A history, a theory, a community.

I get shy about the word, and then I hear more words. Femme, butch, dyke, bear, bambi, fag, queen... all of these words from friendly mouths with kind eyes and all of them queer.

And then I said it out loud.

"Queer."

Ooohh.. see, it was different when I took it for myself. It wasnt pins anymore, it was a knife that I got to hold. 'Lesbian' still hurt because by the time I found queerness, it was questionable that my gender mattered anymore.

It's such a... broad word. I get to define my own queerness. I'm not a woman who loves women, I'm a person who is in love! And that love is for my girlfriend, that love is for my friends, that love is for myself- god fucking finally that love is for myself, who I hated and hated and hated for almost thirty years because someone when I was seven decided to put me in a fucking box that I didn't belong and I didnt know how to escape because I didnt know that there were other words, kinder words, words like knives in the hand instead of in the heart.

God. Fucking. Damnit. I loved myself for the first time.

And you want me... to go back into that little box that doesnt fit me anymore because it's a 'slur?' And you think I cant reclaim it because it wasnt meant for me when I was literally... called it since I was seven god damned years old?

No word meant to describe my sexuality is without a history of violence. Not a single one. The word 'lesbian' no longer stings, it just isnt wholly correct for me.

So if I can make peace with the word that sent me home crying for eleven years, you can let people reclaim the word 'queer' for themselves.

Miss me with that terf shit.

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fluorescentbalaclava · 1 month

Text

training season's over (double chapter)

Chapter 7: Gleaming & Chapter 8: FISH n' CHIPS

Summary:

Gleaming

To describe something as good, desirable or brilliant. A particular favourite of the Guards Division. If something is ‘gleaming’ you’re probably onto a good thing.

FISH n' CHIPS acronyms, Fighting In Someone's House and Causing Havoc In People's Streets.

TF141/female reader, König/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, military inaccuracies, suggestive language, language, canon typical violence, second chance, domestic fluff, enemies to friends, becoming buddies, referenced torture, hurt/comfort, hugs, bar fights, alcohol, cuddles

previous: chapter six "contact"

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Chapter 7

How to tell a guy has a crush on you?

You immediately groan to yourself for googling this at your grown age. There was a time when you dated, you even had a boyfriend before all of this. Still, it feels like a lifetime ago, those thoughts were pushed to the back of your head for a while, but after your encounter with König you need answers.

God, at what point I got so disconnected with emotions?

Ah, the good old WikiHow.

1 - He talks to you—a lot.

Uhm...maybe?

2 - He makes eye contact.

Definitely, it’s kinda unsettling sometimes.

3 - He gives you his full attention.

Uh... I mean, yes. But isn't this like the bare minimum?

4 - He laughs at your jokes.

This is ridiculous.

5 - He tries to impress you.

Eh, perhaps.

7 - He lowers his voice when he speaks to you.

The fuck?

You cringe at yourself, before closing your computer and placing it next to you. I mean, maybe it’s not romantically? He clearly cares about you, after all, you don't just go through that for anyone, at least you wouldn't. Or would you? Fuck, this is hard.

König was---is your friend. You began to remember the first time you met him; you fresh joined KorTac, lined up in a row with other new recruits. Upcoming missions required weeks long deployments, and you were informed that some of you were needed for them as there was a shortage of staff in the base, due to the many operations KorTac was contracted to carry out, and that the commanding officers would pick a few rookies to fill the spots.

The first two officers went past you, not even giving you a second glance, just picking the biggest people in the row and calling it a day. The third of them, an American, just looked down at you and with a sarcastic tone said.

"I think you're in the wrong place, doll."

Cunt.

The sight of the fourth one immediately made everyone on the row stand straight. You heard someone beside you whisper "colonel". He was intimidating, tall as fuck, with a black sniper hood over his face and clear paint smeared on the fabric under the holes of his eyes, looking straight out of a Friday the 13th film.

He walked in silence, taking the time to examine each one of the remaining recruits in line. Opposite to the other officers, or at least the ones he talked to, he liked rookies. They were fresh meat, easy to mould to his liking. You saw him looking at you, slightly tilting his head like a curious dog, and you made yourself hold his gaze.

That might have caught his attention, because next thing you knew, he was in front of you. Looking down, probably standing too close on purpose only to make you look up even more, putting your neck in an uncomfortable position. God, it was humiliating.

"Name?" He asked, surprising you as his voice was not as deep as you expected.

"Sage, sir"

"SAS?" He asked, pointing at the Union Jack on your chest.

"No, sir. I was hired before I could try for selection. Corporal, British Army." You explained, and you saw him narrowing his eyes while looking at your face.

"You're coming with me, Maus." He said before simply turning around and walking away. Leaving you a little dumbfounded, as well as your fellow comrades, but soon you followed after.

And that was it, just like that you were under his command until you had the requirements to try and become a sergeant. You never asked him why he exactly did it, you didn’t want him to feel like you were questioning him. He was your superior, after all. Google just told you that "Maus" was a common term of endearment in German.

Those thoughts brought back to that day in Uzlovoye, Russia. Everything felt calm enough— just a rural town, you thought. You really don't remember much; you remember getting into what seemed like an abandoned building and having to collect a computer with vital information inside a bunker. You remember hands behind you, König's voice asking for updates through the comm, the growing anxiety in his voice at the lack of response, the hands squeezing your neck, and then everything went black. The next thing you remember was lifting your head, trying to move to no avail, something hard behind you, the feeling of restraints all around your body, and the disgusting smell of rust and humidity.

A knock on your door distracts you.

“Who is it?”

“Me,” Soap voice says from outside the door.

“Come in.”

He opened the door, finding you resting on your bed already in your pyjamas. One with bunnies this time. Looking around, he quickly realises you have already made yourself quite at home. The room is fully decorated now, except for some boxes piling up in the corner. He could even bet you would have painted the walls as well, if given the chance. You can tell he’s also ready for bed with a shirt from some band you don’t even know and tartan pyjama bottoms.

“Came for a tour?” You said it with a teasing tone from bed, looking up at him.

“Oh, sorry” He answered clearing his throat.

“I'm here to formally invite ye to our monthly film night” Soap said with a playful, elegant tone.

"Monthly? How come I'm first learning about this? I've been here for four months already" Seeing Soap standing on the doorway with a cocky grin.

"Sure, ye can get mad at us for not inviting ye...or ye can be over the moon we are doing it now" He said teasingly.

"Fine...just give me a minute."

And now you were there, in the usual sitting position, with Gaz in the middle, you on one side and Soap on the other. Ghost and Price are sitting on individual sofa at each end of the couch. All of them looked more casual, in their pyjamas as well. Maybe next time you could convince them to do a face mask and turn this into a proper sleepover, like the ones you held with your girlfriends back in high school. You brought a blanket with you to snuggle as well as a cardigan, the base felt like a freezer in the winter.

They did a rock, paper, scissors competition to see who picked the film. Something in you got suspicious when everyone groaned when Price won, even Ghost, but you gave his taste in movies the benefit of the doubt.

Fucking hell...

He picked Gangs of New York, and about half an hour later, the only thing keeping you awake was the feeling of your head bobbling every time you were close to falling asleep.

The only thing keeping Kyle entertained was seeing how hard you were trying to stay awake. From what Johnny told him, you apparently had trouble sleeping, often waking at night to sneak to the kitchen. So, to try and help you, at some point he shifted his shoulder a bit, so when you fell asleep, your head fell against it.

He felt how your breath slowly became even and calm, and you soon were sleeping like a baby. At least she can spare herself from this. As much as he tried to keep focused on the screen, trying to at least follow the storyline, you kept leaning more of your weight against him, seeking his warmth, to which he felt his cheeks warming up.

He took a look around, Ghost was watching the screen, Soap was asleep as well, and Price was watching the picture attentively.

His hand was awkwardly behind you, not sure what to do with it, as your body was pressed on his side. After a few minutes of consideration, he decided that to be comfortable, or so he told himself, to delicately put his arm around your waist, careful to be respectful and gentle. You shifted slightly, and he almost pulled away, but you just snuggled more against him, making him confident enough to cuddle you some more.

He leaned back on the couch, relaxing. It was surprisingly pleasant to rest like that. He could feel the warmth of your body underneath your clothes and how your body gently moved with each breath.

The light of the television illuminated your sleeping face, your muscles relaxed and a peaceful expression, quite the opposite of what he normally sees in you. You looked like a powerhouse when you trained, running through the o course like it was nothing, doing series after series at the gym, and relentlessly hitting whatever thing you had in front of you to train: the bag, mannequins, or Soap.

In your sleeping thoughts, the heat coming from an unknown source was soothing, the aroma of cologne appearing in your dreams and the softness of the cotton of his shirt against your cheek.

He tried to remember the last time he ever was with someone like this. Probably before he joined the 141. Since he met Price, his life has been dedicated to the task force, his country, and saving the world. He almost forgot how nice this was.

The thoughts started to drift even more.

He imagined coming back to someone after work, lying like that while relaxing after a hard day of work, ordering takeout, watching the telly, and then heading to the bedroom. He didn’t realise until now that he craved that, the intimacy of a partner and the closeness of someone outside his friends. So focused on his job he almost forgot the feeling of a warm body pressed against him, the softness of the fabric of your shirt under his hand, your steady breath...he felt slightly flustered at the thoughts crossing his head, but he allowed himself to enjoy in silence. Just two co-workers resting on an evening—it wasn't a big deal. You looked adorable, he had to admit. And he enjoyed the moments he spent with you off-duty; going for the groceries, watching reality TV, or going for runs in the morning. All the stuff he dreaded or felt like chores of civilian life was now enjoyable. They almost made him forget he was a soldier, that he was in a base, and that you are there because you are a criminal. Of course, he would never tell you any of that.

"Kyle" You whispered groggily, snapping him out of his thoughts, and he looked down at you. You couldn’t even open your eyes, the sight bringing a soft smile to his face.

"How long until it ends?" You added it, making him chuckle silently.

"It's almost three hours long, and we're only one hour in, luv" He whispered back, amused.

"For fuck's sake" You muttered in an annoyed groggy tone, curling up on yourself even more while pulling the blanket up, wrapping yourself as you were still leaning against him, going back to sleep.

He could get used to this.

Chapter 8

With a unanimous vote, or so they told you, they decided to take you to the Battleship, a small bar close to the base opened by a retired SAS member mostly for other soldiers to hang out in.

You decided on putting on a long-sleeve shirt with some open buttons on the front that let it hang open enough for your tank top to peek out. As well as just some normal jeans, your tactic boots, and a jacket. You also decided to leave your hair down with clips to prevent it from falling all over your face. And just the tiniest bit of makeup—you were actually excited to see yourself a bit more dolled up than usual. Still casual enough, you think.

When Price sees you, a realization quickly strikes him. Yes, you were a merc, a spy, and you murder people—all crimes he was already too familiar with, and by the looks of it, so were you. But you were only a girl. When you arrived with a soft smile to meet them in the car park, it was like you didn't belong there with them. In other circumstances, you probably would have finished college by now; you would be getting ready to go out with your girlfriends for a drink after a normal day of work and chatter about your lives; you'd have a flat (a new one); and probably a partner. But instead, whatever life choices you made brought you here, going out on a Saturday night with four war criminals, older than you, to a shitty bar on the side of the road. He almost feels pity for you.

Pity he's quickly snapped out of when, apparently, once you got in the Jeep and you were getting comfortable, Soap got in behind you, accidentally pulling your hair with his arm against the seat, to which you winced and almost instinctively threw a very hard push against his shoulder, making him loudly groan but back out.

"Get off my hair," you said, glaring at him, picking up your hair and putting it over one of your shoulders, brushing it together again.

"I'm trying, but it's fuckin' everywhere. Can't ye put on a ponytail or something? Jesus Christ, no need to dislocate my shoulder." He said it with a small wince of pain, rubbing his shoulder.

"Muppets, behave," Price said with a sigh before getting into the driver seat.

It's probably going to be a long night.

He had yet to ask you for what fucked-up reason you ended up enlisting in the first place. But he saw you were uncomfortable enough when he tried to make you call your parents more frequently, and he didn't want to push any further.

He saw on the rearview mirror that Soap and you had made peace, and he was now telling you about how terrible the new recruits were and how they couldn't even handle a few runs around the base, and he was surprised when he heard a “I give them two more weeks” from Ghost, who was sitting next to you.

You seem well enough, considering your situation. He was glad when Kyle came to him, asking for permission to take you along with Soap to the town on a small shopping spree by the sounds of it.

Soap very much enjoyed the little getaway, even if it was for mundane things such as going to the supermarket, the bakery, and a small shop to get your mug. They made you wait in another aisle while Gaz and him debated between getting you the “I’m not short, I’m just more down to earth than most people!” one or the "Don't be a cuntcake" one that had a little drawing of a cupcake. Ultimately, their decision was the right one when you opened the box and cringed at the mug about your height. He really enjoyed getting to taste the macarons you bought. They were a bit overpriced for his liking, but they were tasty, so it was worth it.

"So... thoughts?" Gaz said, walking beside you as you entered the bar.

"It's...not bad," you say slowly, looking around.

It's clearly not your style or your idea of a bar. The decorations look like they were clearly chosen by a retired soldier (in a bad way), and it reeks of cigarettes; you could be smoking two cigars yourself by the amount of smoke you're breathing. Needless to say, it is quite busy, and Ghost and Price walk in front of you, with Soap behind as they go to the bar. Gaz just chuckled, probably sensing that this wasn't really your cup of tea.

"After a drink, it'll grow in you," he says as you start walking to the counter as well.

"Price! It's been a while, mate, what you've been up to?" The man at the counter asked cheerfully, already grabbing a bottle of whisky.

"Very busy months, Arthur. We are catching a break while we can," the captain answered while leaning on the counter.

"He is the owner," Gaz whispered to you.

You glanced at the man, looking him up and down. Checkered shirt, long beard, curly hair, missing a leg. Probably the reason why he retired in the first place.

"Oh, and who's this? Your daughter?" He said it with the same cheerful attitude, noticing you were looking at him and extending his hand to you. You chuckled as you shook his hand, and Gaz and Soap snickered at the comment as well.

"How old do you think I am? No, she's a new recruit," Price said in a mock-offended tone.

"Sa---...eh, Wire" Old habits die hard.

"Sorry, John. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.” He said it with a friendly tone, letting you go and putting a small bowl of peanuts in front of you.

“What can I do for you today?"

"Water, I have to drive."

"Whisky"

"Bourbon"

"Guinness, please"

"Do you have absinthe?"

"I actually do! It's been a while since someone ordered, but we serve it the classic way. Give me a moment." The man behind the counter, seemingly excited by the request, left to search for the necessary tools on the back.

When you looked next to you, your teammates were looking at you as if you had a second head.

"What?" Your tone was already defensive.

"Are you an alcoholic, bonnie?" Soap answered with his own question.

"I like the taste! It’s like liquorice."

"That doesn't help your case, luv," Gaz said teasingly, winning a playful scoff from you.

"Fuck off, it's just to warm up."

After Arthur came back, he made a small show of serving your absinthe, ice-cold water, absinthe spoon, and sugar cube, and you were surprised to even see a Pontarlier reservoir glass. After that, he went to serve the rest of the drinks less excitedly.

Once the first round was finished and Soap gagged after asking to try your drink, the five of you left the counter in favour of an empty table next to the pool, dividing into two teams: Soap and Ghost against Gaz and you. Price opted to be a spectator while smoking a cigar. After Ghost broke the aligned balls, their team had the solid ones, while you were left with stripes.

Alcohol must have really warmed you up because you were laughing more than usual at playful banter and at Soap's stupid dick jokes directed at Ghost regarding balls and pool cues.

Simon grumbled, but deep down, he didn't mind. For a change, it was nice to hear your laugh and to see your cheeks flush as you got hot from laughing and the heat of the place. He could see the men from the other tables ogling you, and although he knew you were perfectly capable of handling them yourself, he couldn't help but shoot glares in their direction when you weren't looking, making them immediately turn around at the sight of a man like Ghost catching them red-handed. A strange feeling of protectiveness was brewing in his chest—something about someone like you in a place like this and surrounded by rough men. It was foolish to think; he was well aware, and he felt almost embarrassed to even entretain the idea. Three months ago, he hated you and everything about you, and he let Price know multiple times that it was a terrible idea to have a criminal on the team.

But now...he had to look away when you bent over the table on your turn; suddenly, the inside of his mask was too warm.

"I need a drink," you announced, bubbly, stretching your back before handing Gaz your pool cue.

"No more absinthe, bonnie, won't hold yer hair while you throw up." Soap said, teasing, making you chuckle.

"I'm getting a coke; don't worry, mom."

"And I'm going to the bathroom," Price announced from the nearby table.

"Does anyone want anything?" You asked as you began to walk away.

"No thanks, luv," Gaz said, as Soap and Ghost only shook their heads as they were studying the table, seeing the best way to proceed as they were losing.

You walked away to the counter, which was across the bar, allowing the three men to keep sight of you.

Soap lowered his upper body over the table, hitting a red ball but missing the pocket, making him curse under his breath. Gaz chuckled at this, and they had a small break while you got back since it was your turn. He saw you waiting for Arthur to be done with another customer when a man he didn't recognize but saw on a nearby table approached you, shamelessly putting his hand around your waist as he stood beside you. The men on his table were watching the scene with a smirk on their faces.

This made him annoyed, and apparently, he wasn't the only one.

"Fucking dogs." Soap said, standing next to Ghost.

"Should we go for her?" Gaz asked, trying his best not to sound too eager. He saw you turn around with a scowl, clearly not happy.

"Lass can take care of herself," Ghost bluntly answered. Although his eyes were betraying him, he was still glued to the scene.

When he turned to look back at you, you were saying something to the man while glaring at him. The men chuckled and said something back, and you rolled your eyes. Your face went back to face the front. Maybe you didn't mind?

Then he saw how the man's hand slithered down your back, and he felt his blood boiling. But before his hand could reach its destination, a quick blow from your elbow harshly met its own destination, connecting with the man's nose. Not only making him pull his hand away but making him fall back with a whine of pain, and now everyone’s eyes were on the scene.

"You fucking whore!" The man said loudly before he got up, clearly aggressive. But you weren't backing up, either.

"Fuck," Gaz said before he quickly hurried up to the scene, followed by Soap.

As they arrived, Gaz got in between the man and you, and Soap quickly held you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist. The man's friends are also holding him back, muttering stuff along the lines of “it’s not worth it” or “it’s just a chick.”

"Put your fucking bitch on a leash," he said angrily, blood pouring from his nose. Ah, a yank.

"Haud yer wheesht," Soap barked at him from behind you, still holding you as you tried to break free from his arms.

"I’ll chop your hands off." Not even you knew you had so much pent-up anger inside you, probably looking for the right situation to explode. Johnny was struggling more than he would like behind you, feeling like he was trying to hold back a bull. Bloody hell, maybe I should do more weightlifting.

"The fuck is your problem, mate?" Gaz through gritted teeth, but before the man could scream back, you were approached by Ghost. The man's eyes widened, and he stayed quiet, all the blood draining from his face.

"L-Lieutenant." He said this while standing straight, trying to sloppily clean the blood off his face with his hand.

"You are?" Ghost asked.

"Shadow Company, sir." You heard Soap muttering 'of course' under his breath, still holding you back.

"T-This girl broke my nose!" He said, pointing at you, making your efforts to break free from Soap's grip increased.

"Yer awfy crabbit, mo leannan," Soap whispered to you, not letting you go, trying to get you to calm down.

"Only because you tried to touch her ass like a fucking mutt in heat," Ghost answered bitterly, looking down at the man who looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him.

"What’s the problem here?" Price approached the situation, fresh from the bathroom. At the sight of the captain, the man looked like he wanted to throw up.

"Graves men were getting handsy with the lass," Gaz explained, and he heard you groan in annoyance behind him.

"I can take care of him myself." You said through gritted teeth.

The same alcohol that made you giggle like a teenager is now making you thirsty for blood, as well as annoyed that they felt the need to handle the situation themselves, like you weren't an adult and a trained killing machine, just like them. All the frustration, sadness, and anger that you obediently swallowed in the first months of your new life, not wanting to worsen your already poor situation, is now coming back to bite you in the ass. You wanted to unleash every little one of your frustrations on the man in front of you.

"Mo chridhe, calm down," Soap said again. Gentle but struggling, you were using all your force to get out of his embrace.

"LT, help." He said in a strained voice as he kept trying to lock you in his arms, to which Simon rolled his eyes, but he eventually approached you. With ease, he wrapped his arm around your waist and threw you over his shoulder.

"Fucking hell, Simon," you said, now with a view of the 'Lieutenant Riley' written on his back.

"Some fresh air will do you good, flower." He said as he walked out of the bar carrying you.

This was a rather embarrassing situation, everyone was watching curiously. It was not the first time you were carried out of the bar, and certainly not your first fight. Probably not the last, either. You deep down knew that the gossip of the new girl getting into a fight and being carried away by her lieutenant was going to spread like wildfire on the base.

But, your head felt slightly woozy making you accept your fate as fresh air was starting to sound very nice.

"Sorry, Arthur," Price said with an apologetic look, looking at the bartender.

"Don't worry, John; good to see the new recruits still have some fire on them." He was hinting at the direction in which you disappeared.

"And you," Price said, turning around to the other men again. The main culprit is now holding a napkin against his nose, sitting down like a wet dog. John had a severe look on his face, making the men look more miserable. "Name. Now."

You sat in the Jeep with the door open. Ghost was standing in front of you, his mask lifted as he smoked a cigarette. You notice the blonde stubble; the concept of someone as big and intimidating as him being a blonde named Simon was quite funny, but right now you tried to focus on deep breaths, trying to calm your own anger down.

After a few minutes, you saw the Shadow Company men being pushed out of the bar by Gaz and Soap, followed by Price, who seemed to be on the phone. Your anger, far from diffusing, spikes again. You began to stand up again.

"Let them handle it." He says it in a calm tone, putting his free hand on your shoulder and making you sit again.

"I can handle it myself. My ass is the one involved, not yours," you answer, glaring up at him.

"I know you can, and as much as I would enjoy seeing you beat the shit out of them, you don't have to." He says, voice husky but surprisingly gently, looking down at you. You arched your brow at his words, and he decided to elaborate some more.

"Price is most likely calling Graves; they'll probably get a written reprimand, extra shit to do, and they will be banned from our sector on the base."

"I don't need Price to rat them out for me; I can take care of it."

"My point is that you don't have to. Listen: Despite everything, you are still on thin ice, flower. That thing is not a bracelet." He was gesturing to your ankle monitor.

"We don't give a shit if you kill them; in other circumstances, I would have gladly help you. Shadows are cunts, and they all act like mutts after a bone. But getting into a fight with people who are guests in our base is not a good view for the higher-ups, and Laswell and the Captain can only do so much in your defence." You listened attentively, his words making sense, but you still couldn't help but feel annoyed as you saw the man and his friends being escorted to their car, Price still on his call.

"Besides, you don't have to do it all yourself, you know?" He said that, and you directed your glance back to him.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't have to take care of yourself alone. We are a team; we take care of each other." You can't help but show a hint of surprise on your face.

"Are we?"

"Yes."

After almost four months...the bastard.

A smile slipped from your lips, and he kept looking down at you. In another context, he would be pissed at giving in, but he let you savour your victory, you deserved it.

The moment was broken as Price approached.

"Back to base, muppets," he said, opening the driver door, not before watching the car of the members of the Shadow Company leave the car park.

Soap came behind him to ruffle your hair, making you groan playfully.

"You okay, bonnie?" He asked warmly.

Gaz also arrived behind him, handing you your forgotten jacket and a can of Coke he bought you.

"Thanks, Kyle...yeah, I'm fine. Fuck... I’m sorry." A hint of embarrassment got to you as you rubbed your temples.

“None of that, bonnie. Anyone would have done the same. Not me, though; I would have kicked his balls.” Soap said, shrugging, making you chuckle.

“Not for punching him. For ruining the night.”

“Sweetheart, everything is fine. I talked to Shepherd; he’ll chew Graves ear off. For now, they’ll enjoy cleaning the showers with a toothbrush, and they’re banned from the mess hall and the gym, so you won’t see them.” You listened to Price, and you looked back at Ghost, who was giving you an ‘I told you so’ glance.

“Arthur said that you'd get a free drink next time.” Gaz said, also trying to lighten your mood.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, trying to avoid their gazes. You felt vulnerable, accepting help; it felt both terrible and surprisingly heart-warming.

The way back was actually nice, with Price telling a story from when he was a private and they had a few drinks while camping. One of them got so drunk that they made him believe there were lions in that zone, and he was scared shitless until he sober up enough to realise, they were in the German countryside.

The stories were a bit silly, but the way they were telling them was both endearing and entertaining. There was a fuzzy feeling in your stomach, and your cheeks hurt a bit because you were not accustomed to laughing and smiling this much.

next chapter: coming soon!

Thank you to the lovely people following this! <3: @no-lessthan3 , @blush-haze , @eustassh , @valkyrieunknown

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

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745voiceofthepeople · 5 months

Text

Percy Jackson, Azutara Au idea

What will the presence of two more children of the big three, mean for the the second Titanomachy or second gigantomachy? What will it mean for the Greco-Roman strife? What will it mean for the Hundred Years’ War with the presence of two nearly overwhelmingly powerful half Gods. Both of whom could (individually) challenge the Avatar if they so wished.

The fact the two of them alternate between wanting to kill each other, and wanting to kiss each other silly, also adds some tension to the precarious state of the world.

At least Aphrodite/Venvs is amused.

————————————————————————

Two brother gods, one Greek, the other Roman decided to sojourn in another world. One with mortals and other spirits separate from Olympus and Terrae.

Poseidon visits the people of the sea, so alike to his own. They hold ice and hearth close to their chest. He falls for a beautiful mortal woman. They have a daughter together. She was named Κατάρα or Katara. Poseidon smiles as he looks down at his daughter and says (to Kya and Hakoda) that she will be a curse to her enemies and to the enemies of Atlantis, but will also be blessing to this world and to his own. Poseidon then returns to Atlantis.

Ivpiter visits the people of the sun. Those who worshiped flame and lightning. Reminding him of his son Mars and of the eternal city. There he goes to their royals place in a volcano’s caldera and happens upon a fire nation princess. He courts her and falls for her. They also have a daughter together. She is the child of king of the Dii Consentes. Ivpiter determined that she would be as bright as Apollo, and have the Wisdom of Minerva. The child was named AZVLA or Azula. Before he leaves to return to Olympus, Ivpiter looks as his daughter and whispers (with Ursa listening on) “Sit illa erit Felicior Augusto, melior Traiano” to Azula softy. Then leaves.

Azula is given a golden coin by Jupiter. Similarly to Jason. It transforms into a bow and arrow on one side (tails) and a Gladius and shield on the other (heads).

The coin is inscribed with the image of Flavius Aetius and the words “Shield of the Romans” or Clypeus Romanorum. On the tails side is the image of a Roman Eagle, inscribed with the acronym SPQR, and the words Filia Iovis, arranged around the eagle cyclically.

Katara wields a trident that was given to her by Poseidon. The Weapon bares the image of an Akhlut. A wolf-orca hybrid of Inuit mythology (which Poseidon has a connection with). Is is also inscribed with the words Αβυσσος “Abyss” named for the Abyss of the deep sea.

Though, Azula and Katara only get these weapons once they go to camp Half-blood and camp-Jupiter respectively. Which will take a few years, considering they grow up in a war torn world separate from Earth.

I personally believe that Azula and Katara are (roughly) equals in terms of raw bending power in canon. With them both being children of one of the “big three” that remains true for godly powers and abilities.

————————————————————————

Also Azula grows up thinking she is Ozai’s daughter (cause Ozai does not know about Ivpiter inclement in her conception) and tries to be ideal Fire Nation princess. When she is twelve Azula (about one year after Zuko’s banishment) is transported to Earth (specifically to the Wolf house) by a spirit. She has no idea what is going on.

Here Azula learns the truth that while her father is a king, he is in fact the king of the Gods, rather than a measly lord of the Fire Nation. Azula is reluctant at first but comes to accept the truth. Lupa also helps her with the realization that both she and her (Apparently half) brother Zuko were unjustly abused.

Azula is given the coin by Lupa. Being told that it was “a gift from her true father”. After which, Azula spends several months training with Lupa and her wolf pack before heading of to camp Jupiter.

Once there, Azula is made a probatio and placed into the second cohort of the Legion. Though Azula has ambitions about earning her stripes early and officially joining Nova Roma. She also has ambitions about becoming a centurion, then Praetor, and maybe even resurrecting the long defunct office of Consul.

Azula also meets her half-brother Jason. She tries to stick to rivalry with her sibling. It’s the only thing she really knows. But Jason is way to earnest about bonding with his family.

One day, Apollo himself arrives in camp Jupiter. Interrupting a training session. He proclaims that Neptune Trident has been stolen and that the half-blood children of Ivpiter stand accused.

Appolo gives a prophecy and a quest is then assigned to retrieve the trident. Azula and Jason are told to co-lead the quest. They bring Jason’s friends Dakota a son of Bacchus and Gwendolyn a daughter of Spes.

They bond over this quest (a life changing adventure) and rescue Neptune’s trident and stopped a war in the process. Azula and Jason also bound about having coins that can turn into weapons. Azula begins to consider Jason to be a true brother, and for Dakota and Gwen to be true friends. It took a while though…

Azula then stays in New Rome uninterrupted for another year. Until at the age of 14 she is suddenly whisked back to the world of Avatar by the spirits. And she finds her self standing before her (step) father Ozai.

————————————————————————

In regards to Katara, she grows up knowing that Kakoda is her step father. That didn’t matter though because he was still a dad to her. Katara is also sent to Earth (via spirit machinations) at the age of 12. She is dropped at a Montauk beach. Not that far from the Beach house of that Sally (the greatest mother in fiction), her son, and a goat boy lived. She rushes to the beach house and meets the three. Then they run to Camp Half-blood (though neither Katara or Percy have any idea what is going on).

Once near Thalia tree, Sally is kidnapped (via magic) and transported to the underworld. While Percy and Katara both battle the Minotaur.

Once they arrive at camp-Half Blood they learn about the gods, the moving of Olympus, Annabeth also shows them both around. etc. Katara is placed into the Hermes canon with Percy. Katara also forms a budding friendship with Luke. Once the two participate in capture the flag they are both claimed by Poseidon. Incidentally, learning that they are siblings.

They the. Learn about Zeus’s lightning bolt be stolen and that both of them are accused of the theft. Katara and Percy only have till the solstice to retrieve the bolt and prove their innocence. Katara, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover all go the quest. Despite the ancient law of three.

Poseidon also gives Katara and Percy gifts from their father Poseidon. Karats gets a powerful and deadly looking trident. Percy gets a pen. Eventually, the quest is resolved and the true thief is revealed. Katara forms an enduring friendship with Annabeth and Grover and a sibling bond with Percy throughout their life changing adventure.

When Katara is 14 she is shocked back to the world of Avatar. Right into Sokka’s boat as he is fishing. To the shock of both of them.

————————————————————————

Just a fun little PJO (HOO)/ATLA plot bubble I thought up. If anyone has any thoughts, let me know! I know you @firenaition like PJO in particular, if you or anybody have any thoughts let me know! I may add more to this Au idea in future. Twas posted in honor of Azutara and the new Percy Jackson show airing on the Mouse network.

#azutara #yes Poseidon did have fun with Kya and Hakoda #Ozai was cucked by Jupiter though #Katara is a demigod #Azula is a demigod

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sophieinwonderland · 7 months

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"DARVO"

For the love of the gods!

You made an entire blog to attack me because you were upset at how I responded to a fakeclaimer who threatened to bash my head in by saying that bigoted anti-endos like them should be and will be ostracized.

You...

Wait... I need to screenshot that don't I? Because if I don't, people might think I'm making it up that this was the reason for the blog's creation!

There we go! (Also, "anyone who disagrees with me" was actually "anti-endos" and "people like the anon." Those were the groups I specified. But I digress.)

So you make a blog because of my comments that weren't targeted to or about you, then you immediately start attacking me, suggesting my comments could be considered criminal threats. (Again, not how the law works anywhere.)

And these false accusations of criminality are before I ever interacted with you.

Then when I completely debunked that ridiculous talking point, you quickly moved to calling my words violent, (not what that word means), "suibating," (also ridiculous,) accusing me of taking people's rights, and comparing the scenario presented to the torture of solitary confinement.

None of this is secret or happened behind closed doors.

Anyone can go over that thread and draw their own conclusions.

In my first post... what was the absolute meanest thing I said about the person falsely accusing me of criminal actions?

Most of it is just flat debunking.

I umm... I guess I said that accusing me of a crime was absurd. And I had one line saying "there are comically huge leaps being made to blow my comments to that anon way out of proportion beyond what any rational individual would."

And so I guess that implied that the person falsely accusing me of criminal behavior was being irrational, if you really want to look for an attack in that post.

But it's a pretty tame reaction to defamation by false criminal allegations.

And yes, in the subsequent post after they claimed my statements were literally the same as suibaiting, trying to take away people's rights, said my words were acts of violence and other ridiculous reaches, I did say this:

I'm going to be blunt. This reads like emotional manipulation. "People need to be friends with me and accept me no matter how dangerous or harmful I might be because otherwise I might harm myself" is an all-too common manipulation tactic.

I ALSO said immediately after that I wasn't suggesting they were an abuser or that this was intentional. Which is being conveniently ignored.

I don't mean to say that you're an abuser or that this is intentional. Only that I don't like the broader implications of what you're saying because I have seen a lot of abusers use this sort of tactic to keep loved ones, especially significant others, from leaving them. And I could easily see someone vulnerable reading this and using it as a justification to stay with someone who is toxic or harmful to them because they prioritize that person's health above their own. I want to be 100% clear that it is not morally wrong for people to reject someone because that person has dangerous beliefs which may harm them or others. Everyone has a right to choose who they associate with.

Because regardless of the intent, I do worry that this will be people's takeaway from this conversation. That if they're in a relationship they don't want to be in, they have a responsibility to maintain it for the benefit of the other person. Especially if that other person has a small support network or no support network besides them.

I don't think this was the how it was meant. I don't think it was a consideration at all how this might influence people in abusive or toxic relationships. But I do worry that it would be the result regardless.

But YOU, on the other hand, seem very intent on trying to paint me as an evil, abusive person.

Which brings us to "DARVO."

An acronym that typically is used to apply to sexual abusers, but you want to apply to a Tumblr argument with someone who literally didn't know you existed a week ago before you started spreading allegations of criminality about them, and said some slightly mean things online.

And I have to wonder... is this intentionally trying to draw an association between myself and sexual and domestic abusers? To an audience made up of many people who have suffered this sort of abuse??? Is that what we're doing in syscourse now to people we don't like???

DARVO is also typically used in he said/she said positions, where it comes down to the credibility of both sides. Again though, everything here is publicly available. Anyone can read all of my posts on the subject, and all of theirs. Nothing is being hidden. Nothing happened behind closed doors.

DARVO doesn't apply here because this isn't a matter of credibility. There's no Denial of any facts.

And this may be controversial, but I think DARVO does have some problems and can be used to shutdown legitimate natural defenses against false allegations if you use it as proof of wrongdoing.

For example, someone says "Hillary Clinton is secretly a cannibal eating babies in the basement of a pizza joint," and she's probably going to deny it, attack the people making the accusation, and present herself as the victim of obvious lies. And the more outlandish and heinous the accusation is, the more it's likely to invoke this sort of response. Basically, while being aware of DARVO is helpful when evaluating a situation so you don't automatically believe whoever is the most indignant, using it as proof of wrongdoing to discredit any defense people have of themselves is going to lead to a lot of false positives.

Back to the matter at hand, the mention of DARVO is obviously to portray themselves as victims.. So let's just recap the timeline of events...

I'm sent a hate anon threatening physical violence and/or death. I respond saying that people like them should and will be ostracized for bigoted beliefs as plural acceptance becomes more common.

A group of syscoursers immediately jump on this with absurd claims that my comments were worse than death threats, suibait, etc. This system, that claims not to be anti-endo and would therefore not even fall under the category of people I said would be ostracized, makes their entire blog to hop in to the dogpile wrongfully asserting it would be a literal criminal threat if made face-to-face.

I respond to this libelous claim in a post, thoroughly debunk it with reference to Californian law, and the absolute worst thing I've said up to this point is implying that reaches like these are irrational.

This system then compares my post that wasn't about them to suibaiting, violence and solitary confinement. They argue that ostracization is harmful to the people ostracized, so therefore my statements amount to threats of violence. (They seem unclear if this is criminal or not, saying in one line that I'm not a criminal, but in another that it would still amount to criminal threats. 🤷‍♀️)

I say this feels like emotional manipulation I've heard in other contexts, but also specifically make it clear that I'm not saying I think they're being intentionally abusive or manipulative.

Every single interaction I've had with this system has been in response to personal attacks against me.

And my own replies have also generally been kinder and less severe than the personal attacks and false accusations I'm responding to, IMO.

Oh! And then they went on to call my followers a cult!

Because I can't simply be a person online with some opinions that you find offensive or hurtful. No. I have to be an evil violent abusive suicide-baiting cult-leading criminal.

This might sound callous, but if you are having breakdowns because a stranger on the internet who you falsely accused of a crime implies you're being irrational and says you are acting in a way that comes off as unintentionally manipulative, you might need to take a step away from internet discourse.

I really do wish you the best healing.

At the same time though, I would encourage you to grow up and move on. Making an entire blog dedicated to a random blogger you dislike is weird, a little creepy, and I can't imagine it's particularly healthy.

#syscourse

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anonymous-character-tournament · 10 months

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Have you ever broken down your blorbo to their base components?

Have you ever tried to explain your blorbo to a friend and realised they're really a few cool concepts in a trenchcoat?

Have you ever wondered how many people would like your blorbo if only they knew them?

Welcome, folks, to Season 2 of the Anonymous Character Tournament!

This is a competition to see which blorbo is the most compelling when stripped of their name and their immediately identifying characteristics. As the title says, each participant will be anonymous, and you'll only know a few cool details about them when you vote. The names will be revealed when each character loses, but you're welcome to speculate (I won't confirm anything).

This time, we'll have 32 characters. Why so few? Because last time I did "the closest power of two" and it ended up being 256 and, though fun, a lot of work.

Rules:

Nominations are only through this Google form. It will open on July 17th at 6am UTC and I will close it the first time I look at it and see 50 or more submissions, however long that'll end up being. I will immediately announce its closure.

OCs and real people are not allowed.

Characters that competed in Season 1 are not allowed to come back. Check who those were in this list.

You must provide the character's name and the media they're from. Write the media's title in full: if I find an acronym instead I'll ignore the submission.

You must also provide a list of up to five cool characteristics about the character you're submitting. These will be included in every poll the character is in and in the presentation round at the start of the season.

If you include more than five characteristics I will ignore from the sixth onward.

Characteristics should be captivating and short: bullet points are accepted, short complete phrases are accepted, paragraphs will be ignored.

Characteristics should be vague enough as not to make the character immediately recognisable to someone who's passingly familiar with the source material. They also must be qualities the character canonically has or things they have canonically done. That means no headcanons, no word of god, no fanon, etc.

Please nominate each character only once, but of course you can nominate as many as you want. Though, only one nomination per form is allowed, otherwise I'll just ignore all of them.

No hate in the notes. I won't hesitate to block, and that's a promise.

The participants will be picked by me out of the submissions I get and depending on the characteristics provided.

I chose not to do "official" additional propaganda this time around to see how it goes. As usual, though, you can leave it in the notes of the posts provided you don't include the character's media nor their name.

#tumblr polls

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m7nson · 2 years

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Good lookin' ❥ Joseph Quinn

˙❥˙ the last person you expected to see is your professor

✎masterlist

October weather is the best, orange colored leaves, Halloween stores and decorations; truly is the best time of the year. And you can't forget about a fun corn maze and pumpkin patch, Olive has a tradition of going every year. It's nice tho everytime we go it's always fun.

"I wonder if they're gonna have games this year?" You shrugged as they said keeping their eyes on the road driving. "Probably those kiddy one's most likely, I'm excited about the corn maze tho."

"Dude, I'm not gonna listen to you anymore, you remember last year?" Of course you remember, a one hour maze turned into three hours. One of the staff members had to get us because they were closing.

"I'm way smarter than I was last year." They chuckled as you saw the pumpkin patch sign "whatever you say..." Finding a parking spot was easy, seeing that there's only six cars. Getting out of the car, putting on your jacket waiting for Olive.

"Should we just do the corn maze first?" You nodded walking twords the long maze "yeah, and after we can eat and pick out a pumpkin. But I wanna buy a water first." They nodded as we walked to the stand one person in a blue jacket Infront of us.

"How long do you think we'll be in the maze?" "No longer than an hour because of my big brain." You said giving a soft laugh "I'm counting on you," as you have them a side hug. The person infront of you turned around and, oh shit— "Y/n? Wow what a coincidence."

You gave a nervous laugh "professor' Quinn, hi!" Your voice got higher, making him chuckle. God he looks so good in that blue jacket, the worker put something on the counter and he grabbed the two water bottles. "I'm about to go in the corn maze too."

"Oh that's great! Do you wanna walk there together—" "Joe! Did you get the waters?" You turned to see a girl with blonde highlights and she seems to have.. a big personality. Wearing a tight pink shirt and short skirt. She looked at you and Olive "Oh.. who's this Joe?" She said clinging onto his arm.

"Oh this is Y/n, and their friend.." "Olive." They said pulling their hand out. "Olive." He said shaking their hands. "Oh ok." She said bluntly, turning back to Joseph "ready to go to the maze!" Her arm got tighter on him and voice got higher. "Yeah, of course." She shrieked walking to the maze before Joseph stopped her turning twords you "you still coming?" You blinked nodding walking twords him as Olive sighed following.

✎

God this was so awkward two other guys joined our little group and Joseph date keeps flirting with them. "So.." Joseph started while walking up next to you "you've been in this maze before?" You nodded "me and Olive made it a tradition to come every year." He nodded "well that's cool."

You nodded as you fidgeted with your hands "is this your first time?" You asked as he chuckled while nodding "haven't heard someone ask me that in a while.." he mumbled as you got embarrassed "well, er— I guess that's a good thing..."

He chuckled "I've been to a corn maze in London before." "Well that's cool." You stopped Infront of the sign with a question "What does the acronym for S.H.I.E.L.D stand for in the MCU?" You read out loud.

"It's number two." Joseph said as you read 'Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division' "I'll agree with you." "I think it's number three." One of the guys said behind you, "I agree." The blonde said.

"Ok well, let's split up then." Joseph said walking to the right as the three walked to the left shrugging. You too started walking following the detections. "Hey.. I'm really sorry if I ruined your date.." you said, you actually did feel really bad. A handsome guy like him deserves to be happy. He shook his head "you didn't do anything, if you weren't here I would be miserable." You laughed shaking your head, god you're so thirsty. You too got so cought up in going together you forgot to buy your waters.

"Hey.. um, I'm sorry but I forgot to buy my water.. and—" "oh of course, here" he said handing you the water bottle you turning the cap and taking a sip trying not to touch the bottle itself. Making water slip out of the corner of your mouth. You wiped your mouth and put the cap back on. "Thank you." His ears are flushed as he took the bottle back "of course, tell me when you thirsty."

"wow this is so adorable.." Olive said sarcastically. By the time you new it you were at the end of the maze the staff member was there standing saying "congratulations, you made it through the kiddie maze!" You jaw dropped "that was the kiddie maze!?" The staff member nodded "the one hour maze is over there." She said pointing behind you.

"Do you want to go in there?" Olive asked you shook your head "I'm hungry." You turned to Joseph "do you want to tag along with us?" "Oh I don't want to intrude.." Olive waved their hands "you two go sit down and I'll get us food ok?" They said walking off leaving you too alone.

You chuckled walking to the tables across the patch "I'm sorry about them." He shook he's head "I truly am sorry for interrupting you two's tradition." You shook your head "the more the merrier right?" He nodded.

"How's your poem going?" You sighed "I'm having trouble starting it to be honest.." this poem assignment is giving you major writers block. He nodded "have you even wrote a poem before?" You shook your head "not really..." You said sitting down on the picnic table as he sat across.

"Poems are very tricky to write, but believe me," he held your hands in a comforting way "don't force an idea, it will come to you; believe me." You nodded "you're a really good teacher you know?" He laughed letting go of your hand "I didn't transfer to America for nothing." You smiled nodding.

"Alrighty one corndog for each of you and one corn on the corn on the cob for mwah." You took your corn dog and took a bite. "So how's good old Y/n's grades doing?" Joseph swallowed his bite before saying "really good, one of the smartest students in class."

You nodded taking another bite "what are you doing after this?" He hummed "probably gonna go to the book store." Olive hummed in excitement "don't you have a gift card to Barnes and noble?" Oh shit you completely forgot about that. "Why don't you take her, and you can drop her off after?"

Your eyes widen "I don't wanna intrude your time again." He shook his head "you're welcomed to join me if you would like, and then I'll gladly take you home." You took your last bite covering your mouth before saying "if you want me to go I'll gladly go."

"Alrighty then, it's settled I can have alone time in my home," they got up "so I have to go enjoy my time, so you too enjoy." They left taking a bite out of their corn in the cob.

You chuckled "do you want to go as well?" He asked as you nodded. Getting up and throwing away the stick. "Nice car." You told him getting in the car "thank you." He said started the car. The car turned on and the radio playing one of his playlist, 'head over heals by tears for fears'. "Oh I love tears for fears!" He laughed "they're great aren't they? The girl I came with said she hated 80s music" that made you gasp "how can anyone hate 80s music!?"

The whole ride he played his 80s playlist and It was a fun twenty minute drive. When you got to Barnes and noble getting off, "did you have a certain book in mind?" He opened the door for you "well.. I do want to see if they have a certain poetry by William Blake." You hummed at the smell of coffee and paper "I think I've heard of him before."

He nodded walking up to the worker around the counter "Hi, I was wondering do you have 'Songs of Innocence and of Experience'." The worker typed into the computer "it's your lucky day. We do have one copy in the back, you two wait here." They left as you looked at the coffee shop "do you want to get a coffee? I need to use my gift card before it expires."

He nodded as the worker came back "here is your book. Have a great day." You nodded saying a small thank you. Walking to the small Starbucks you walked up to the counter. "Hi, can I get a.. strawberry cappuccino and.." you motioned for him to get what he wants "a, black coffee please."

"Ok and the name?" "Y/n." They nodded as you gave them the gift card. "alright it will be out soon." They said throwing away the card. You too waited out the counter, "is their anywhere else you want to look at?" He shook his head "all I wanted is in my hand." He said motioning the book, you nodded as the worker said your name and you grabbed the two cups and took a seat at one of the empty tables.

You grabbed the wrong cup considering it's warm and in a cardboard cup. You looked to notice something written on the cup 'call me ×××-×××-×××× ;)' you chuckled nervously. "This must happen to you a lot huh?"

You gave him your cup as he sighed "not really, maybe it's for you?" You laughed taking a sip of your drink. "I truly doubt it's for me." "I mean.." he started deep on thought, debating on saying something. "If you weren't my student then I most likely would have asked you out as well." He said taking a sip of his coffee nervously.

You chuckled nervously looking at your phone "um, maybe we should pay? I have class tomorrow and you know how those are." He laughed "oh believe me I understand, I hope you're professor doesn't give you a rough time." You shook your head "he's actually a really good teacher, one of the best, he's quite a looker too." His ears went pink, he cleared his throat before getting up.

"Come on let me take Cinderella home before midnight."

✎

"Thank you for today, it was a really fun day." You said to him as you took off your seat belt as he nodded "I enjoyed myself as well." You nodded opening the door, "oh wait on almost forgot," he grabbed the plastic bag and pulled out the book handing it to you.

"Here—" "oh no I can't take it you bought it—" he chuckled "I bought it for you, maybe it'll give you the inspiration you were looking for." You smiled grabbing the book from him, "thank you, I'll read it as soon as I get inside."

He nodded as you got out and waved at him holding onto the book while walking to the door. You unlocked the door and opened the book seeing a note written in the front.

'i hope this book inspires you as much as you inspired me — Joe :)'

#°｡☆ -> [ JOSEPH QUINN 🧸 ]#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #joe quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn fluff #joe quinn fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #°｡☆ -> [ INEFFABLE 🧸 ]

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depressedhatakekakashi · 4 months

Note

So how did Yamato handle losing Rogue Dai in the God of Storms (can it be acronymed GOS?). It seems they may have gotten close in this timeline what with Gai living in his forest and preserving it with his youthful men as best they could. I almost head canoned that Gai's last meal he sacrificed to Yamato from his cell, also one final offering and thank you for all he had done to shield his men, and the hopes he and his forest would be all right after he parted.

Is Yamato affected by the drought? Or is his forest JUST outside the kingdom and thus he's spared from Kakashi's wrath.

Yamato’s forest would be like a sort of haven. Even if it’s just outside the kingdom it would continue to be lush and green, a safe place for people to escape to as long as they have no connection to the king or Gai’s murder.

Yamato would protect them

And Kakashi would continue making sure that the forest has the water it needs, otherwise he has to hear Yamato’s complaining (and he doesn’t want to kill Yamato’s forest anyways. He likes it)

It also continues to provide a safe haven for Gai’s friends and the one’s who will continue the fight, so it will always be a place that is lush, green and full of animals.

Yamato actually would spend some of Gai’s last day with him, and probably time throughout his sentencing. He’d be there whenever Kakashi is not, keeping Gai company.

One thing i think he’d do, as a gift to Gai, is grant him his memories before death. See, each human who is reincarnated holds the memories of their past life deep within, inly unlocking them upon death. Yamato makes an exception for Gai (and actually gets into a bit of trouble for it but he only does it a week before gai dies so he doesn’t get into too much trouble) and unlocks those memories for him

Gai gets to remmember everything

His lifetime as a village kid wishing for rain for his tiny village

The lifetime as a prince growing up with his best friend Kakashi at his side, never realizing that it’s the god of storms that he’s making friends with

His lifetime as a devoted knight cut down in battle young, meeting the god of storms only the night before his demise and getting to spend just that night with him.

It’s a lot to take in of course, but it allows Gai an opportunity to understand that Kakashi’s not just a ‘hot god’ that happened to find an interest in him.

Kakashi is devouted

Kakashi adored him and will keep returning to him

And that’s a gift to (mGai because he dies knowing that one day, sometime in the future in another life, he’ll get to see Kakashi again

And that’s one heck of a gift

(Also, it is GOS AU most of the time XD that’s how i usually tag it)

#God of storms au #GOS AU

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adornesibley · 12 days

Text

IT'S GONNA BE MAY: a Newsletter

Reading: The Land of Lost Things by John Connolly, How to Sell a Haunted House by Grady Hendrix

Finished Reading: Horrorstör, My Best Friend’s Exorcism, and We Sold Our Souls by Grady Hendrix, The Secrets we Keep by Shirley Patton, The Vegetarian by Han Kang

Podcast: Unwell: A Midwestern Gothic Mystery

Playing: God Hand and Nier (Jank is Good, Jank is Life)

Making: Doom levels

Writing: Project E and *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧NEW THING*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ (which I will talk about below)

Word Count: Word counts are just a way the patriarchy can arbitrarily muffle voices it doesn’t like… but it’s 167338

TLDR: I talk about my new short story anthology project, word counts and the desperation of doe-eyed newbie authors, the insular nature of TTRPGs and nerd culture jargon, glossary provided for her pleasure.

Firstly, new thing! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ I’m working on a super secret idea which I’m going to keep secret until precisely … now. It can be summed up in five words: TECHNO HORROR ANTHOLOGY FLOPPY DISK. Take yourself back to a bygone era, where the hair was big and often mulleted (wish that trend stayed dead, crimped hair stayed away but mullets came back? WTF humans) to when everyone is reading their Goosebumps or playing with their Tamagotchis. Close your eyes. Can’t you hear the dial-up now. Smell your breakfast cooking in your George Foreman grill. I know I’m talking about a large year range but for most of us millennials the 80s and 90s is just a blob monster of slow computers and corded phones and Scrunchies and listening to the radio, waiting for your fav song to play so you can hit record on your cassette player. I will keep you posted here on the progress and continue to give hints as to the full plan with all the gory details of its taxonomy. For now, this is all you get.

Project E’s progress was not so bad. I’m actually really proud of this word count. I shaved off so much this month. I was productive AF. And yet I feel compelled to continue on. The average scifi novel length is up to 150k words and I’m still well above that. Then you go to the average DEBUT scifi novel length and psht… 120k. If I remove 50k from Project E, that’s a whole book on its own!

I’ll admit that sometimes, a book is really and truly longer than it needs to be, but let’s also admit that plenty of books get published that are CERTAINLY longer than they should be. I’m looking at you, Herman Melville! So to act as though this is an aspect which would make it impossible to publish a novel is disingenuous. The shit reality is simply that more words means more ink and pages, and publishers are scared of losing money, so unless you’re well established or the concept is a “sure thing” then they’re unlikely to give you the time of day.

I have no proof, and this is not a statement I’d backup in any legal capacity, but I’d imagine it’d also be quite easy to find a manuscript which says things you don’t like, and then force the author to gut it to fit your requested word count. Once it barely resembles its initial form, then it’ll be toothless enough to be allowed to get by. New authors are desperate to have their stories accepted. We’ll do anything. ANYTHING. This isn’t to say that Lit Agents and publishers are mustache-twirling villains. I’m saying that shitty people exist in every corner of society, and those folks would likely be happy to abuse their positions of power.

So, a month and a half ago I watched a video about the TTRPG community and its insularity. Well, technically the video was about ShadowDark, but Indestructoboy spent a significant part of the video discussing this problem. I’ve never considered how impossible it would be to understand folks in our community when we’re discussing games. “So I just got to try out a new OSR1 TTRPG2, it’s a Roll Under3 3d64 system with no Death Saves5, or HP6 and it’s entirely GMless7!” Just imagine for a second that you don’t have access to the acronyms or specialized jargon. That sentence would be word salad!

Shit, just TTRPG is useless to anyone not already in the community. Tabletop Roleplaying Games have the power to be an incredible tool for community building and a creative outlet, but by creating so much shorthand, we force folks to learn a tertiary language to even engage with the simplest examples of this style of game! I think that a good stop-gap would be a Glossary of terms in the back of tabletop roleplaying game books, but long term I think it’s pretty important to consider that maybe doing away with the acronyms at LEAST would benefit the community significantly. (Or if you’re gonna use them, consider explaining them somewhere in your post/ book/ video.)

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OSR either means Old School Revival or Old School Renaissance. What these means is up for discussion and debate, but the “Revival” side appears to be focused on literally reviving old-school games like Dungeons and Dragons 2nd Edition while the “Renaissance” side takes ideas from these old Tabletop game systems and adapts them to more modern game design sensibilities. OR AT LEAST THOSE ARE MY DEFINITIONS.

TTRPG is simply short for Tabletop Roleplaying Game(s) which generally involves a certain level of imagining the actions (theatre of the mind) of a character whom you embody in that game, where you must take on the role of someone who likely does not think or act like you would.

Roll Under is a type of system where you will be rolling dice to try to get a number lower than your character’s ability scores. (The numbers that represent their Mental and Physical aspects) If you do, you succeed, and if you don’t, you fail to complete whatever task you were attempting.

d6 is shorthand for six-sided dice, which is the cube dice most folks think of when they hear “dice.” In this example, there is a 3 at the beginning which tells you that you would be rolling three six-sided dice and adding them together.

Death Saves are a concept from Dungeons and Dragons. When your character loses all of their health points/ hit points (a number representing how healthy your character is) then they fall unconscious and are forced to roll a twenty-sided dice each time their turn comes around. If they fail to roll a 10 or higher, then they have a “failed” death save. If they roll a 10 or higher then they “succeeded”. Traditionally you need three of either of them to finish being in this unconscious state. If you get three failures, you die, and if you get three successes, your character “stabilizes” but remains unconscious for some time. There are more rules, but those are for someone running a game to explain, this gives the basic understanding, I feel.

HP is short for Health Points or Hit Points. This tells you how much damage a character can receive before they fall unconscious or die.

GMless. So, first, a GM is a “Game Master” and their job is to narrate what happens around your characters and to roleplay pretty much everyone in existence that isn’t your character. In Dungeons and Dragons they’re called “Dungeon Masters” or DMs. So, a game that is GMless simply means that there is no Game Master and instead the players are cooperatively telling the story together, usually by allowing the outcomes of dice to tell them whether they are succeeding or failing at certain tasks.

#A E S T H E T I C #indie ttrpg #ttrpg community #writblr #horror #scifi #osr #floppy disk #tamagotchi #trapper keeper #am writing #authors of tumblr #publishing industry #strawman #Youtube #techno horror #short story anthology

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ancestorsofjudah · 4 months

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12 Kings 19: 1-4. "The Beave."

So now we know we must invert the Axiom, meaning we have to stop clowning around give up on a life that leads to bitter irony. Pray with me now, "God is Great, God is Good, man has got to grow his own food..."

The Second Book of Kings recommends the members of the Assembly and the Host of the Crown of the Kingdom of Israel engage in what is called Budapest, to become an Apest of the Buddha.

APEST is an. acronym for each of the “gifts” mentioned in the passage: Apostles, Prophets, Evangelists, Shepherds (The Greek word for “shepherd” is also translated “pastor”), and Teachers. A little back ground is helpful to clear up potential confusion.

The former section names 8 stages of regression from an ordinary sinful man to one that is host to the kindness of a Buddha, an Enlightened One. In tandem with these it states the Mitzvot, the Field Commands, guide and protect the soul and the people through a homogeneous mixture with the Jewish Self provided they are subject first to Chabad.

Chabad is the scientific method that proves the existence of Ha Shem, the All Knowing through the application of the Field Commands to the Field.

This is a step up from Hinduism which says if we come to know the nature of the field and its knower, and perform duty, life works out just fine. The Melachim says knowledge and duty are not enough. Only the culmination of the Jewish Soul within Ha Shem, a state called Chesed is acceptable.

A man who has self-sovereignty and also has Chesed, is a candidate for the Assembly and can eventually be chosend to become the King of Israel.

We are all shocked and disappointed our leaders allowed peace on earth to slip through our fingers and now warmongers and their wars without substance are taking place in every quarter on this planet, and our weather is nearing the tipping point. There is much loss of property, loss of life, sadness, worry, fear, and anger. This is not of the nature of God nor does it create Chesed. It is a leader's job to permeate the Nation, the Kingdom, the Town, the State, the earth itself with Chesed.

Read about it once again: The Rab says justice and kindness without limits are to be the only fixations of the Ruling Class of Israel:

"In the Torah-sphere of social obligations there are two general terms and concepts: tzedakah (righteousness) and Gemilut Chassadim. These two terms are closely allied in meaning and are often interchanged. In actual practice, however, there is a cardinal difference between them. Maimonides explains these terms as follows1:

The word tzedakah is derived from tzedek, which means justice or righteousness. Justice means to grant everyone who has a right to something that which he is entitled to, and to give every being that which corresponds to his merits.

But in the Books of the Prophets, fulfilling the duties imposed upon one with regard to others is not called tzedakah in conformity with the first sense. For when giving a hired worker his wages or paying a debt, this is not called tzedakah.

On the other hand, fulfilling duties towards others, i.e., duties imposed upon one on account of moral virtues (such as remedying the injuries of those that are injured), is called tzedek. With reference to the returning of a pledge, therefore, it is said that "it shall be tzedakah unto you" (Deuteronomy 24:13).

For when one walks in the way of moral virtues, he does justice unto his rational soul, giving it the due that is its right. And because every moral virtue is called tzedakah, it says: "He believed in G‑d and it was accounted to him as tzedakah" (Genesis 15:6), i.e., the virtue of faith. This applies likewise to the dictum: "It shall be tzedakah unto us if we take care..." (Deuteronomy 6:2 5)

Chessed (the singular of chassadim - kindness) denotes an excess in whatever matter excess is practiced. In most cases, however, it is applied to excess in beneficence. Beneficence includes two notions: (a) the exercise of beneficence toward one who has no right at all to claim this from you; and (b) the exercise of beneficence toward one who deserves it, but in a greater measure than he deserves it.

Thus, while tzedakah refers to every good action performed because of a moral virtue with which one perfects his soul, chessed applies to beneficence taken absolutely."

Many of you are still young and spring-loaded and the world is teaching hate and combat are the paraphernalia of civilization. They are not. A Prince or Princess must always test the Chochmah of the Torah and instate the Kiryat Shema instead of diplomacy that dodges the fact corrupt politicians who engage in weapons manufacturing, trafficking and use on this planet are not accomodated within God's Plan.

Kiryat Shema, the Tzedakim, and Chesed, as I have explained them are the Field Commander's most powerful assets. A Prince or Princess as with all the leaders of Israel appointed to the Assembly of the Kingdom of Israel must study them and become proficient at them. Should this be done, Jerusalem, the Place that Teaches Israel, shall never wane in power, prestige, or fade away into the annals of our brutal human history. This is the meaning of Eliakim Shebna, "what God stands up is the Seat of Beauty".

Jerusalem’s Deliverance Foretold.

19 When King Hezekiah heard this, he tore his clothes and put on sackcloth and went into the temple of the Lord.

2 He sent Eliakim the palace administrator, Shebna the secretary and the leading priests, all wearing sackcloth, to the prophet Isaiah son of Amoz.

3 They told him, “This is what Hezekiah says: This day is a day of distress and rebuke and disgrace, as when children come to the moment of birth and there is no strength to deliver them.

4 It may be that the Lord your God will hear all the words of the field commander, whom his master, the king of Assyria, has sent to ridicule the living God, and that he will rebuke him for the words the Lord your God has heard. Therefore pray for the remnant that still survives.”

Hezekiah and his officials respond to the Ridicule of the Field Commander. This does not mean he mocked God, rather he was scoffing at the idea people might be obedient and overcome their petty, ridiculous selves.

"…They shall take unto you…." (Ex. 27:20)

We can understand the reason for the word 'eileicha/unto you' by referring to the Talmud explanation of the words: "outside the curtain of the testimony". The "testimony" the Torah refers to is all the people who came to see the Tabernacle realizing that G‑d’s presence was hovering over the Israelites. (Shabbat 22) Rav defined the testimony as specifically the "Western Lamp," i.e. the lamp on top of the Menora's middle shaft.

[This lamp burned around the clock instead of only at night although, not only did it not receive more oil than the other lamps, but the other lamps drew on its oil supply. — EM.]...the ongoing miracle of the Western Lamp...served as testimony that G‑d’s presence was there to stay.

The scoffers amongst the Jews ridiculed the idea that G‑d would take up residence in a structure made by Moses. (Shemot Rabba 52:2) From this we see that not only did the gentiles not credit the idea that the G‑d of the Heavens had come down to earth, but even some of the Jews could not believe this."

YES God can inhabit the things made by Moses. We have never committed to this but on small, minor occasions when the world has tried to govern itself the way the Jews have stated things work just fine. Slavery in America ended because of Jews, World War II and the UN Charter and Declaration of Human Rights were drafted by Jews, every man, woman and child reads the Torah in some way because Moses shepherded the Jews and they still live on today. To scoff at God because we cannot exceed them in this is absurd.

Hezekiah, whose name means courage "strengthened by God" was afraid of performing the Words of Moses, and the Mitzvot came calling. They are indeed a mockery of mankind and God alike until they are understood and assimilated.

The Values in Gematria follow:

v. 1: Hezekiah tore his clothes. The Value in Gematria is 5226, ‎ה‎‎ב‎ב‎ו‎‎, the BV. "In the father."

This refers to the value systems named by our Jewish ancestors vs. those one might pick up like a dirty greedy Egyptian whore.

v. 2: Isaiah, Son of Amoz. "To serve and become strong."

The Value in Gematria is 5759, הז‎הט‎ , the saint. A man who serves God, is courages and causes the world to stand up for the cause of beauty is otherwise known as a Jewish Saint.

v. 3: Rebuke and Disgrace. The Value in Gematria is 9460, ט‎ד‎ו‎אֶפֶס, td and zero, "Teodor or Torah and zero."

This hearkens back to the mockery question. Without the Torah there is no rebuke or disgrace, that is the very truth. Without them there is no chances for the remission of sin or a chance for the human race to last.

v. 4: It may be that the Lord...The Value in Gematria is 11717, יא‎ז‎אז‎ , so and so, "equal and equal."

As the Rab says, it is the mix of the talents and devotion of a bunch of unequal persons to common cause, the greatest good, that makes all of us equal to each other. This is the top of the roof for all Jewish persons:

"One of the main topics of parashat Naso is the description of the contributions of the tribal princes upon the dedication of the altar in the Tabernacle. Interestingly, this is the second set of offerings made by the princes, yet the Torah describes each differently.

The first set of contributions was upon the dedication of the Tabernacle. The Torah summarizes the princes' gifts, tallying them up in one sentence and giving the total number of oxen, wagons etc. which were donated.

Subsequently, at the dedication of the altar, each prince's contribution is individually described in a series of verses despite the fact that each donation was identical!The contributions made at the altar's dedication represent the uniqueness of each tribe….

The Lubavitcher Rebbe explains how from this we learn two components of the Jewish people. On the one hand are the qualities every Jew shares - we are all G‑d's children, have a divine soul, etc. This is exemplified in the donations made at the Tabernacle's dedication, in which the gifts are totaled in one sentence. In this case, there is no need to specify details because each tribe is similar to the other.

On the other hand, the contributions made at the altar's dedication represent the uniqueness of each tribe and each Jew, and therefore each tribe's gifts are listed separately. Even still, this seemingly redundant listing of gifts may seem unnecessary if each tribe gave the exact same items.

However, the fact that the gifts were identical further proves the point: while each prince performed the same deed, the spiritual factors and intentions involved behind the act were very different. In the spiritual realm, each tribe is a whole and unique entity unto itself, and the spiritual intent behind each prince's gift was individualized to his particular tribe."

The Torah says we must grasp the urgency of the need for food, shelter, safety, property ownership, education, love, family, and fealty all human beings share with each other. Everything we do to make these things possible fulfills the goal of Great Chesed across this world.

But before we measure out equal helpings of kindness to each member of the human race and our boy beavers too, we must follow the course prescribed by the Melachim. First come the Tzedakim, (the Ten Sayings), then comes death to the enemies of the human race, and then comes Mashiach, the salvation of the place called Jerusalem.

That might seem like a longshot but the Torah says men who are willing to be human, to believe in the God of Israel and His ability to help us publish the peace shall replace those who make war. All we have seen in history undulates between the two- inhumane and the humane but just as we make weapons of war we can easily make the instruments of peace and use them to establish the lost and forlorn within the experience of Shabbat, our most sacred tenet.

Nothing must ever confuse or occlude this thought from governing the world. It is the sheerest providence of the King of Israel and always of His Right Hand, the Prince.

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bulldogblues · 5 months

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If you advocate for splitting up the LGBT acronym to focus on 'LGB rights' only, I'm going to assume one of the following about you:

1) You're actually a massive homophobe and are going for a divide and conquer strategy

2) You're not necessarily homophobic but you ARE a transphobe

3) You're incredibly naive about the history of LGBT oppression and don't consider how it will backfire immensely

The root cause of homophobia and transphobia is the same - the idea that by virtue of the sex you're born as, you MUST fit into xyz box. So if you're male, you have to be a man and be interested in women only, and if you're female, you have to be a woman and be interested in men only. Anything else is considered an abrogation. (Incidentally, this is also why it's important for LGBT rights movements to maintain close ties with feminism, because the oppression of women is inherent to it as well!)

So if you claim to advocate for the rights of same sex attracted people but then ignore or worse still ACTIVELY SPEAK AGAINST trans people then you are helping precisely no one, other than maybe those at the top of the gender/sexuality hierarchy.

For a practical example, let's look at legal protections for LGBT people. Among other things, here in the UK you aren't allowed to discriminate against someone for their sexual orientation or gender alignment/gender conformity.

Suppose that this law *only* protected sexual orientation and not gender expression/alignment. Your sexual orientation 'protections' are now USELESS. Because now an employer can say 'oh I didn't fire her for being a lesbian, god forbid, but she was too 'masculine' if you know what I mean', and there's nothing you can do to even attempt to hide it.

And the same would be true for the opposite, if you protected gender alignment but not sexual orientation. Since realistically a trans person will never fit into expected heterosexual norms unless they're 'stealth' and people don't know they're trans, a homophobic employer only needs to use that as ammo against them.

#lgbt #lgbtq #transphobia #homophobia #trans

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the-hem · 8 months

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The Wedding Banquet. From Matthew 22:2-14.

All Wedding Banquets in Christ's Parables refer to Shabbat, the moment one has evolved past the stages of life named in the Torah called the Seven Days. Each one has a happy couple and details pertaining to their meaning.

They are:

God sent Himself to this plane of existence planning to have a lifelong relationship. The Gospels are in a way a lament over all that did not happen because the Life of Christ was cut short. And we revel in this, somehow. This is called "apostasy" to treat the death of Christ as Holy when it is in fact utterly unholy.

Everyone on this world knows of the Christ and they shake in terror at the sound of His name becuase deep down, none of us have ever understood Saint Paul's bullshit about being baptised into life and baptized into His Death, which has nothing to do with the price of tea in China. These aren't real things, they have no capacity to hold or boil water.

What is real is the experience of Shabbat, of inner holiness once one understands without delusion of obstruction exactly how the world was made by God and how stupendous a piece of work it is. Especially the part where one comes to appreciate, just as atoms and molecules come together of their own accord to give us creation, mankind can also come together of its own accord to present itself with all the benefits of civil society.

This is what the Wedding Banquet is all about. Jesus explains how, in spite of the fact everyone understands the concept, no one seems to get it:

2 “The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son. 3 He sent his servants to those who had been invited to the banquet to tell them to come, but they refused to come.

4 “Then he sent some more servants and said, ‘Tell those who have been invited that I have prepared my dinner: My oxen and fattened cattle have been butchered, and everything is ready. Come to the wedding banquet.’

5 “But they paid no attention and went off—one to his field, another to his business.

6 The rest seized his servants, mistreated them and killed them.

7 The king was enraged. He sent his army and destroyed those murderers and burned their city.

8 “Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come.

9 So go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.’

10 So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, the bad as well as the good, and the wedding hall was filled with guests.

11 “But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes.

12 He asked, ‘How did you get in here without wedding clothes, friend?’ The man was speechless.

13 “Then the king told the attendants, ‘Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’

14 “For many are invited, but few are chosen.”

To properly appreciate the meaning in this illustration, we need to use the same methods used for analyzing the Torah. There are Four Levels. All sermons and homilies need to use these Four Stages of Analysis to be of the best value to the congregation:

The Torah may be viewed, generally speaking, on five different levels. The first four levels are called PaRDeS, which is an acronym for Pshat, Remez, Drush and Sod. Pshat is the most basic literal meaning of the Torah text. It is not necessarily identical to the apparent plain meaning of the text, but is an explanation of the text based on the tradition as it has been handed down in the Oral Torah (Mishnah and Talmud) following closely the literal meaning. Most traditional Jewish editions of the Torah are published together with Rashi's commentary, which is the classic example of Pshat exegesis.

The second level, called Remez, departs from the literal meaning of the text in search of hints and allusions. Linguistic analysis of the text and gematria are basic techniques of the Remez exegesis.

The third level, Drush, is the homiletic exposition of the text. It includes moralistic homilies as well as derivation of legal rulings based on the text. It is typically found in aggadic and halakhic midrashim.

The fourth level, Sod, literally means secret. It involves esoteric interpretation of the scripture and is the subject of Kabbalah.

Finally, the fifth level, Sod of Sod, the secret of secrets, is the innermost meaning of the Torah as it is expounded in the philosophy of Chassidism.

As stated in the Zohar,

"Three things are bound up one with the other: Israel is bound with the Torah and the Torah is bound up with G‑d.”

All of the levels of Torah exegesis [explanations] as well as the levels of the soul are related to the four letters of the Tetragrammaton, the Proper Name of G‑d.

We must always, always find ways in which Christ was trying to teach about the Torah and the quintessential nature of Israel and Judaism. That was His Mission. The Wedding Hall, this planet, the banquet is the products of civilization, the guests are all who understand the level of effort and the purposes for which they were instituted by God.

The end result of all of this religion is the end of sin. There should be no sin.

When Jesus states He has fattened His oxen and cattle, He means He has provided us with men and women in the priesthoods and congregations around the world who are indeed intelligent and capable. He despises the way we disregard them, leaving their pews and lofts empty these days. They have something to say and all of us have something we need to hear.

To fail to heed a priest is murder. Without the priesthood the world devolves. To sacrifice the time of a priest who went to seminary in order to provide the world with a way to understand all the miracles God has given us so we donot take them for granted or become wayward is a sin, one that is punished severely:

The king was enraged. He sent his army and destroyed those murderers and burned their city.

The the king perused the streets and the corners:

Streets called eruv, are mergers between different domains. They are boundaries specified in the Torah that differentiate savage men and the intelligent.

Corners are mentioned in Leviticus 19:9-10, and are places designated for the poor:

9 When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not be so thorough that you reap the field to its very edge, nor shall you gather the gleanings of your harvest.

10Likewise, you shall not pick your vineyard bare, nor gather up the grapes that have fallen.

Jesus obviously wanted to open up the Wedding Hall to people who wanted to be there and also who would benefit from the Banquet the most. This is consistent with Pesach, where inivitations to strangers to Judaism and the poor are mandated by the Torah. Another sign Jesus was establishing His Authority as the earthbound God of Israel.

As for the man who showed up to the Feast without proper clothes, the King also had him killed. Why was the response so harsh?

The Gematria says 12434, אבדגד‎ "I will dress." This means if Jesus is dressed up in righteousness so far as the Torah explains it, we must be also. It might also mean God will provide us with the needed uniform if we understand where it is we are going, or not as in the case of Back to Egypt. This is a given for all students of the Religion, called Judaism.

In Judaism, proper wedding clothes are considered a uniform for the marriage of one's present righteousness with the unborn future in hope of a new generation of mankind that will reject violence, poverty, and Egypt.

Improper dress at a wedding therefore is a very bad sign and Jesus says to put a stop to that right away.

On a grander scale, the Parable of the Wedding Banquet speaks of the need for a government enterprise that undertakes the mission of educating, feeding, employing and recreating a population which by itself or in small groups could never conjure the expertise or labor capable of doing it.

As I've said before, Shabbat takes place at all the levels of human culture in all of its sectors. When Shabbat turns into a marriage between all men and the enterprises associated with civilization and peace on earth, it is called Mashiach.

Persons incapable of understanding the importance of this, like the Republicans, Mormons, Evangelicals and Pro-Lifers, who cheated in the 2016 Election, need to be excluded from society until they die out, just as Jesus said.

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