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bonefall · 2 months

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For Riverstar’s Heir, do you have any idea where you want to land themeatically? Because from my reading of the possible themeatic directions, with the whole story being about this crisis of politics and succession, it feels like the character who “should” become the next leader of RiverClan narratively should be the Most ruthless/aggressive/willing to resort to dishonorable methods of dealing with rivals (reinforcing RiverClan’s entry into/building up of the early Clans’ emerging systems of battle society)

The alternative “most interesting” option I can imagine would be one that is least likely/least aggressive/some otherwise sort of underdog candidate (maybe not even technically “legal” depending on what qualifications there are for heirship?), but I’m not sure exactly what themes that would play into, other than maybe how the pursuit of power can change someone?

That said, your themeatic instincts are strong enough that I can see you having a strong idea for a “middle-of-the-pack” candidate winning out over the others just as much, so— I am genuinely curious what your thoughts are for where you Want this crisis of succession to end, narratively, even if you don’t have an exact cat picked yet.

Good ask because I'd not been clear about the theme yet, I think. What Riverstar's Heir is trying to get at, at the heart of the issue, is that this is a bloodbath caused by naiive optimism and greed.

The commandments to establish borders and prevent killing are nice, but not enough. You can't just have a society on good will, not when POWER is up for grabs in the scramble. It's about collapse, and how innocent, well-meaning people get caught up in the devastation. Not JUST the troublemakers.

Riverstar was an EXCELLENT king, beloved and wise, but if you don't prepare a proper successor, everything you worked hard to build might crumble to ruin.

Something unique is lost in this shuffle. It's no longer the River Kingdom, and the Wind Coalition also becomes WindClan at this point. For better, and for worse, they both lose a bit of what made them special. Redscar's choice at the end also solidifies the early political power of Clerics, which is eventually broken many generations later with Larkwing's Strike.

So, fragment time,

At LEAST three "heirs" end up getting killed.

So, because these ones are gonna die, I have Three Heir "Slots" that I'm committed to and just need to fill;

The Eldest, Riverstar's oldest living biological child.

The Chosen, Riverstar's adopted heir, a rather meek prince easily pressured into backing off his rightful claim. This one is likely going to be the BB! version of Mossfire.

The Firstblood, directly descended from Riverstar's FIRSTborn child. This one is likely going to be the BB! version of Jumpfoot.

I also have two tentative slots.

The Accomplished... who is a blood relative of Riverstar, but more of a "puppet" for WindCo. Someone they're intentionally propping up hoping for power.

The Diplomat, from WindClan, who is a lot like WindCo's puppet but this one is more subtle about it. Poetic. Happy to purr and remind the world of the wonderful, deep ties that had existed between King Riverstar and Thunderstar.

And, LASTLY, there's The Deputy. The most qualified choice, who served Riverstar, but was no relative.

It feels right that the Deputy is the one who is chosen in the end... hm.

Anyway

After a smaller conflict near the start of the story, either The Eldest or The Firstblood seems to be the favorite to win... but decides to wait for the morning to set out for the Moonstone and take their lives.

In this time period, without selecting a successor, this heir is assassinated.

In fact it might be VERY fun if this heir, being so much like King Riverstar himself, decided to throw a pre-emptive celebration.

Meat! Merriment! MURDER!!!

Having them go out via poison would be a fun way to send a character off.

This is going to be why the "DEPUTY BEFORE MOONHIGH" rule is established, but it's also what kicks off the bloodier parts of the plot.

Thinking about it... a cleric and/or the deputy should probably tell this heir, "Hey, buddy, you should really get going" and they're ignored.

With Eldest Heir gone, the small conflict from earlier becomes an LARGE conflict.

And, like they did back in DOTC, families start to rally together. Especially Eldest's offspring, who think they're just as entitled to the Throne as The Firstblood/Jumpfoot

King Riverstar used to encourage cats to enter the River Kingdom freely. The borders were essentially open, and everyone was allowed in, as long as they were willing to cross the river.

(maybe I'll even have him pull down the tree from Riverstar's Home intentionally, happy to accept other cats into his Kingdom. Then he defends it from Skystar, specifically, but refuses to destroy what he built.)

This had allowed River Kingdom to grow large and powerful, but it also meant everyone in River Kingdom had connections to the other Clans.

Which meant there were cats supporting OTHER bids to the Throne, like the one from WindCo and the one from ThunderClan.

Smelling a way to grab power, Duststar supports his favorite heir, and Whitestar of ThunderClan also begins to stick his nose in.

Each Heir tries to run the River Kingdom, and things start to get hostile. If there's more than just the three heirs, even more of them start to get openly attacked, chased out, killed, until there's only The Chosen and The Firstblood left.

Somewhere around here, River Kingdom is invaded. Probably by the leader of SkyClan at the time, claiming that they don't even NEED an heir to take what these cats clearly don't deserve.

And that's when the internal conflict becomes a FULL-BLOWN WAR between four Clans.

In those days, the camp was at Sunningrocks, right in the middle of the river.

ThunderClan jumps in to help its "Ally" against SkyClan, just like historical precedent, but they have NO IDEA who they're fighting against, because the whole Kingdom is divided. It's not as simple as it was in DOTC anymore.

WindCo came to support its favorite heir, but its cats don't obey Duststar's orders when it comes down to fighting their own friends and family, meaning they're functionally fighting EVERYONE and losing a TON of cats

SkyClan is getting pummeled because EVERY group is pissed at them as well as each other, getting a painful awakening that they are NOT being run by Skystar the War God anymore and they're no longer the biggest, baddest bananas in the bunch

(shadowclan is watching all of this and eating popcorn. moisturized. in their lane. unbothered.)

The climax here, between The Chosen and The Firstblood, is a battle that matches the chapter from COTC. They launch at each other, in a battle to the death.

The first Sunningrocks Battle.

They both wear "crowns" on their head, one custom made for Mossfire's short-furred head, and traditional, braided into Jumpfoot's long, lush fur.

As they claw, bite, and tumble, they plunge into the river.

Fighting and hissing, they try to pull apart to rise up for air-- and can't.

They're STUCK

The crowns became tangled in their skirmish, and neither one can work with the other to bring them both to shore, against the current.

Both heirs, the last with a proper claim to the throne, drown together in the river.

At the end of the bloodbath, the tone is very somber. The rules were meant to prevent The First Battle from ever happening again... but The Second Battle had just taken place.

The body count wasn't AS high as the First Battle, but it was still a bloody loss. Every Clan lost warriors. Even ShadowClan, who hadn't even been IN the conflict, checked its ranks to find that powerful warriors had run off to go fight with their Kin.

Now they could be buried with them, too.

And now, there was no proper heir. If any descendants were still kicking around, they were refusing to take a throne that so many cats had died for. Jumpfoot and Mossfire never emerged from the River, their bodies, and their legendary crowns, were never found.

At first I'd been considering Redscar being swapped to become a RiverClan Cleric, but now I'm thinking it actually makes sense he's still from ShadowClan. ShadowClan was the ONLY neutral group-- it's reasonable for the clans to turn and request their partiality.

So, Redscar peruses the options, having followed the situation from afar.

His choice, in the end, was The Deputy. The most experienced advisor who knew Riverstar, and probably tried to stay at his adopted daughter's side as well. The closest thing they'd had to a leader all along.

(Thought: Maybe this character will be the POV. Make it like a bit of a fake-out title, you THINK Riverstar's heir is Mossfire. But it's actually been this one all along.)

He creates his famous false sign, and from there, the five groups discussed how they could prevent this from ever happening again.

They create the Law of the Deputy, commanding that ALL Clans have a single Deputy who will inherit the Clan after the leader passes away, ending dynasties in WindCo and River Kingdom and centralizing power in the other 3.

With the massive losses that WindCo and River Kingdom experienced, they also restructure, forced to accept a lot of help from ThunderClan and ShadowClan.

The borders began to close up, leading to the sentiment that would lead to Commandment 4, the Law of Loyalty, in just one more generation.

#better bones au #BB!DOTC #Riverstar's Heir #I feel like I need to add in more 'human' moments #But it's also a very broad overview type thing #Having the Deputy be the POV will help immensely I think once I get into the details #Since she'll be thinking about how to keep the Kingdom together. How to feed people. How badly it's all crumbling #And how distracting the violence all is #But this is a broader draft of the major politics when the REAL meat of this story is in the minutia.#(Ottoman Empire ass drama in the background) ``no time for that goku. its fall. the salmon r coming.``#Unsure if this is Flowerstem or Maplewhisker....#The Eldest would make sense as Mothpelt #Again: COTC my beloved

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boreal-wood · 7 months

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Hey Stormlight fans why are we so quick to forgive Dalinar for killing innocents- including his own wife, but when it comes to Elhokar, whose worst crimes were just being immature and incompetent- both of which come from not being ready to inherit the throne- he's unforgiveable?

Do yall actually think Elhokar is irredeemable because he let Moash's grandparents die?? If so then yall should really take a good long look at Dalinar's arc and compare it to where Elhokar is when he's swearing the First Ideal, because Dalinar at his lowest on the whole was far worse than Elhokar ever was

#idk i think that casual mass murder of innocents is a bit higher on the list of bad things stormlight characters have done #than nepotism and incompetence #oh but he killed moashs grandparents #you literally would not care if it didnt affect a pov character #so lets stop pretending that dalinar is worthy of being a radiant and elhokar wasnt #idk why i chose tonight to choose violence #but i just felt it needed to be said yknow?#stormlight #stormlight archive #elhokar kholin #dalinar kholin #moash #cosmere #brandon sanderson #taiga says things

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alexibeeart · 1 year

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MyHouse.wad

On March 2 2023, a user called Veddge posted this thread in the WADs and Mods Doomworld forum:

MyHouse

Excited to finally release this tribute map. Last August I lost a good childhood friend of mine and took it pretty hard. When I was visiting my hometown for his funeral, I connected with his parents who shared with me some of his old belongings. Among them was a copy of an old map of his backed up on a 3.5” floppy from high school. Thomas and I were into amateur Doom mapping in the early 00s but I had never seen this map of his prior to uncovering it on one of the old floppy discs. As a way of paying tribute to him and all the great memories we had together, I took the plunge and installed Doom Builder in order to polish up his map and add a few modern amenities just for convenience sake.

I haven’t touched an editor in over 15 years so it was quite a surprise to find out how easy mapping has become. I may have gotten a little carried away with these new UDMF features and, as such, the map is designed for GZDoom. From the text file:

Doom 2 - GZDoom, hardware renderer

1 map: Not much of a challenge and roughly 10 minutes of play time. All difficulty settings implemented.

Jumping & crouching disabled, freelook is fine

Lots of Doomcute!

Making maps of your house was all the rage back-in-the-day, but I feel like this is a pretty adorable and detailed tribute to my friend and a great way to share something of him with a community we loved. Miss you, Tom.

Download myhouse.wad

Contained within is a link to a Google Drive folder containing myhouse.wad—a DOOM map of a normal 20th century suburban house where you mow down baddies and collect a blue, yellow, and red keycard to reach the exit—photos, text files, screenshots, and some images of a sketchbook.

There is also another version of the mod in a different format: myhouse.pk3. Opening this file to start a new game shows the map exactly the same as myhouse.wad ... until it isn’t.

Read Vegge’s original post, poke around in the GDrive, don’t look up anything else if you can help it, and give this a go. If you’re stumped, you might need to get some fresh air outside. General content warnings in the tags; spoiler cws under the cut. Obviously there is much more to this map than it seems ...

general content warnings for myhouse.pk3: blood, gore, violence, guns, weapons, pov, monsters, zombies, demons, flashing lights, eye strain

spoilery content warnings for myhouse.pk3: liminal spaces, the backrooms, unreality, substance abuse, alternate reality, enclosed spaces, open spaces, animal death, mirrors, mirror world, spiders, fire ... please ask me to tag anything i missed! this is still a very new puzzlebox of a game and it’s possible there’s still more to discover ...

#fps #gaming #DOOM #DOOM mod #DOOM WAD #myhouse.wad #myhouse.pk3 #blood #gore #violence #guns #weapons #pov #monsters #zombies #demons #flashing lights #eye strain #ask to tag

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wangxianficrecs · 2 months

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heroic aftermath by Last_for_Hell

heroic aftermath

by Last_for_Hell (@last-in-line-for-hell)

T, 5k, Wangxian

Summary: A typical night hunt goes south quickly as Wei Wuxian gets severely injured protecting the juniors. They are understandably not okay with this, and try to deal with the aftermath of what they went through while taking care of a comatose Wei Wuxian. They were in for a long night ahead of them. Kay's comments: My heart breaks for the juniors in this story, but it's also so heart-warming to see how much they care for their Wei-qianbei. I was especially taken with Ouyang Zichen in this one, the fourth junior who often gets forgotten but is just as much part of the junior squad as the others. Despite Wei Wuxian being hurt badly in this story, there's no need to fear! Happy ending guaranteed! And many found family vibes as well! Excerpt: “We almost died but me walking around is too much for you?!” Jin Ling snarled, edges sharp. “We were not the ones who almost died!” Lan Jingyi cried out. The room went silent. A strangled inhale came from behind them, and Lan Jingyi spun on his heel, hand immediately outstretched, “Sizhui, I-“ “He almost died.” Lan Sizhui voice trembled, “He almost died again.” Lan Jingyi’s hand fell. Lan Sizhui didn’t look at them, eyes anchored to Wei Wuxian’s slack face, “Hanguang-Jun would have lost him again - my father would have lost him again. He’d never recover.” He was shaking. “I...I could have lost him again. And this time I remember, I would know what I lost. I can’t- I can’t lose him.” No one had anything to say to that.

pov alternating, post-canon, established relationship, adorable juniors, hurt wei wuxian, wei wuxian whump, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, aftermath of violence, wei wuxian has a fear of dogs, implied sexual content, angst with a happy ending, guilt

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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theactressstaringinyourbaddream · 6 months

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Xaden is so real for kicking someone's ass just because he implied that Vi and Xaden aren't endgame.

Xaden is just like me

#xaden chose violence #literally #no one says xadenviolet arent endgame or my man will come whip your ass #xaden said in this house we ship RiorGail and that's that #he's so cute #he's just like me fr #xaden riorson #violet sorrengail #fourth wing #iron flame spoilers #iron flame #xaden pov #xadenviolet #riorgail #violet and xaden

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variousqueerthings · 2 years

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there’s so many ways that queerness exists in texts, unintentionally and intentionally, coded and uncoded and partially coded and baited and confused and limited and expansive, and then there’s whatever is happening with Hawkeye Pierce, M.D. of the 4077th MASH unit

#hawkeye pierce #MASH #there is of course also the constant mist of gender/sexuality queering that hangs over the narrative because of its structure #its structure as comedy (often subject to whimsical departures from acceptable gender/sexualities)#its structure as anti-establishment and anti-conformity #its celebration of non-conformist personalities and lives and its redefinitions over and over of madness and mutual aid #its structure - of course - as found family #its structure as an island in a sea of militant and fascistic surrealism and answering the questions of:#well what does the alternative to that violence look like?#so the idea of intentionality/unintentionality sort of doesn't matter #because it's creating a manifesto/ethos of sorts that speaks the same language as queerness #and it's down to the DNAs of its structures #(not even mentioning the structures of echoing the realities of those making it -- ethnicities - romantic lives - cultures and religions -#friendships and political beliefs - family structures created on the set of the show itself)#but yes hawkeye pierce is depicted as fascinatingly overtly queer and comedy is (like horror... which....) an acceptable space #for him to be this #(which -- when the horror and tragedy takes more of a front seat his funny-man queerness is somewhat diminished #but a. still very much present b. given an air of drama that legitimises it further c. underpinned by seasons and seasons of existence #d. embedded in that self-same DNA of the structures -- he IS the main POV character #which means he's carrying so much of that idea of non-conformity/civilish disobedience as good and right/whimsy/gender-and-sexuality/etc #so you see... there's whatever is happening with hawkeye pierce M.D.

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honeycollectswhump · 10 days

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Initials

[masterlist]

CW: whumper pov, pet whump, dehumanisation, cutting (NOT self-harm), gore

Mireille hadn’t put too much thought into it, not really. But she didn’t need to. The moment she lay eyes upon the initials carved into the jewelled perfume bottle in the home of one of her suitors, it was decided.

Henri was a good man, certainly as good as he could get, though not without some imperfections. He was of good stature, broad shoulders, though unaware of how to present them, always slouching slightly, as if the weight of his own frame was too much. And really, that wasn’t acceptable in the eyes of perfection. Maybe Mireille could make him great, could make him her own and teach him how to be proper, but maybe this was the best he could get and she’d just waste her time. Honestly, she’d rather be certain of her efforts, but he didn’t need to know, for his presents still made lovely decor.

He did have good taste, otherwise she wouldn’t have entertained him for so long.

All that matters now though, is the sunlight catching in the glass carvings of the bottle, the image replaying in her mind. She wants it too, and she wants it now, and Mireille knows just the possession perfectly suited for this:

Her little ashtray.

There is no thought in her mind of where to do this, who to ask. None of them would see the vision in her mind, the exact way it’s supposed to look. They’d all mess it up, ignorant of the gracefulness she lent to her ashtray. No, this is a personal project.

It is too easy to acquire a proper knife without suspicion. These men –the useful ones– – would bend over backwards just to get a chance at pleasing her. Sometimes she’d go as far as calling it boring, but what else was she supposed to do when all it took was the batting of her lashes, looking up at them with big, dumb doe eyes and slightly parted lips? Her body spoke a language none of them could resist, none of them were ever more than prey to fall in worship.

And worship they did, falling to their knees to satisfy her in all the ways she allowed them. She was their queen in satin sheets and velvet dresses.

So here she sits, legs crossed elegantly on her precious couch, the fine knife not yet unpacked, resting in a silver case, embedded with diamonds.

No one else understands that not only does the result need to be flawless, but every single step needs to be immaculate, from the tools to the cutting to the one performing. An image has to be created, a scene, and none of those lowly things could ever understand her vision. That was what has always made her inherently different, inherently superior, and deserving of rightful worship.

A servant rushes into the room, hitching breaths restricted by the working collar, eying the golden bell set carefully on the glass table in front of her.

“You called, Mistress?” they ask, staring cautiously at the floor, not yet daring to raise their eyes to meet hers. Good. She wants them revering.

“Yes. Fetch me my ashtray, won’t you?” Mireille drawls, her bubbling excitement hidden under layers of refined grace. “And bring me some strong dogs. They will be needed.”

The servant nods, not worrying their stupid little head about her meaning, teasing what's to come, and rushes out as quickly as they came. They look frail, purposeful like porcelain, probably why she bought them, though their name or number had left her mind long ago. An unimportant piece of information abandoned along the way, replaced with something of value.

Only minutes later, the same servant returns, gripping the ashtray’s golden leash too tightly. It’s barely noticeable but nonetheless doesn’t escape her all-seeing eyes; the way their knuckles drain of colour disturbs the otherwise pristine scene. They are followed by two guard dogs, muscular and well rested, their posture straight and imposing, their gaze hard and cold like unmoving stone.

The ashtray looks perfect as usual, the thought both pleasing and stinging in a way that does not fit her image. So Mireille pushes it aside, a worry for later or preferably for never. They can’t have taken long to get him ready. And yet…

“Undress the ashtray. I want his chest to be free” Mireille orders, snapping her fingers. The servant quickly complies, buttoning the fine blouse the ashtray was decorated with open, pulling up away from him and folding it with learned precision.

It only takes a hand movement for the ashtray to step forward, for him to sink to his knees in front of her. The poor lamb doesn’t yet know what is coming.

“Hold him.”

The ashtray gasps and for a single, disobedient moment looks up at her with big panicked eyes. The way his blue eyes shine in the golden light of the chandelier does nothing but strengthen her resolve. Maybe, in another world, the view in front of her would be a painting she saw at an auction, a beautiful angel wrapped in gold captured by beasts of stone, unknowing of his fate. And like a painting, it is only natural for her to leave her mark.

He doesn’t struggle, even when she can’t imagine this was part of his training, he just looks at her pleadingly, unsure what he is even begging for.

It’s a scene now and Mireille will be a perfect part of it.

Slowly, she stands up, taking the silver case from the table as she passes it, positioning herself right in front of the ashtray. It opens with a satisfying click, revealing polished metal, sharp edges, red velvet and her initials finely engraved on the handle. Mireille can just about stop a laugh from bubbling up.

She crouches down to the ashtray’s eye level, laying a hand on his cheek. He doesn’t even lean into it. “Don’t. Move.”

Mireille takes the knife, letting it gleam in the gentle light, and hands the case to the servant still watching.

She can’t mess up now. It has to come from her heart.

Carefully, she traces her initials into the skin on his collarbone, making only slight cuts, letting her letters swirl around.

M. A. B.

Holding the knife like a painter's brush, with meticulous, perfected movements. It comes to her like second nature and the first step is completed.

In a final decision, she lays the knife’s edge on the first line of the M, watching the ashtray’s breath hitch in horrible anticipation. Not even a wince has broken through his training and Mireille is more than curious to test how far she can take it.

Were he any cheaper, she’d love to test what would get him to break his training. If she could get him to speak after all. But that wouldn’t be graceful, now would it? It would be a waste.

Instead, she presses it into his flesh, cutting down slowly, precisely. Once, then twice. The ashtray’s breath gets laboured and it only fuels her. She knows what she wants; an ornate engraving, decor on his skin, a signature on her masterpiece.

Fresh, richly red blood pours from the cuts, running down his bare chest like tiny rivers, connecting and separating, getting caught in raised scar tissue.

Mireille moves carefully, taking her sweet time, her lips opened slightly, imitating an artist. Position, press, slide. His flesh parts beautifully, like he was made for this. For a moment, she looks over to the servant, who is pressing the case against their chest, their face showing sloppily concealed horror, and it makes her smile. They would probably call it brutal, ignoring the gentle way her knife slides through his skin, not meeting any resistance. They’d call it violent, not comprehending the second artwork the rivulets of blood form through the hand of fate itself. They lack the mind of an artist and the nature of a human.

By the time she reaches the A, the ashtray is barely holding back sobs, letting out silent, crooked whimpers –a sound so ugly she should punish him for it–, as she etches her mark deep enough to hit the bone. Still, he doesn’t move, doesn’t strain against the unforgiving grip holding his arms, against her carving following the twirls and flourishes.

She doesn’t admit to herself that it is more challenging than she thought, to follow the rounded lines with a tool that craves sharp edges and straight incisions. The curves of the B make the knife catch on the bone and the ashtray lets out a soundless gasping scream, blue eyes nearly rolling back in his head. The tears he could barely hold back before now run down his face in a disobedient river, mixing with the blood on his chest, destroying her artwork.

He lifts his head upwards, in a last attempt to stop the flow of the tears, but it only makes them drip from his chin into the gashes and he is destroying everything–

A slap echoes through the room, loud enough to make his pathetic sobbing stop in an instant.

“Get your act together.” Mireille hisses, grabbing his chin and letting her manicured nails dig into his pretty face. “Or I will rip you apart, you worthless piece of trash.”

Only the word Worthless seems to get through to his stupid fucking pet brain. There is a reason he was made into a thoughtless object instead of anything else. His beauty is his only strength, the only reason they didn’t mercy-kill him, punish him for stealing space and air and atoms from anything with more use.

He is an ashtray or he is Nothing. And if he keeps ruining her attempts to make Something out of him, he will wish she had let him keep his voice to beg for death.

At last, the ashtray doesn’t act up any more, stays motionless and silent as she finishes the B. When she pulls his skin taut, she can feel him tremble with the effort to keep still. Seems like his training had some use after all.

Finally satisfied, Mireille lays the bloody knife aside, giving herself some time to analyze her work. Briefly, she turns to the servant to order a towel, before devoting her attention back to the signature, quickly overflowing with blood. It’s beautiful, but her interest lies somewhere else.

She digs two fingers into a line of the A, pulling the incision apart. The ashtray only manages a whimper that she gives no regard to, as she digs deeper and deeper through the tissue, against the continuous blood flow. Then, against the intense red, her own personal gold shines through.

Bone.

A pleased giggle escapes her.

It is done.

Whatever will happen, whoever will lay their eyes upon them, it will be eternally clear who he belongs to. There are nicks in his bone that her knife and her hands caused and he will forever know.

And when her stupid little ashtray comes back to his senses and remembers his silent purpose, he will thank her for it tenfold.

Taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0, @toyybox, @sowhumpshaped, @clickerflight, @itsawhumpsideblog, @piniatafullofblood let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

i hope you enjoyed this chapter!! if you did, i would be very thankful if you considered donating to @whumpcloud's gofundme for their top surgery (of course only if you are financially able to!!!). it would mean the world to us both <3

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