#Arbitrary Card of the Day

[jesuisgourde]

A list of all the books mentioned in Peter Doherty's journals (and in some interviews/lyrics, too)

Because I just made this list in answer to someone's question on a facebook group, I thought I may as well post it here.

-The Picture of Dorian Gray/The Ballad Of Reading Gaol/Salome/The Happy Prince/The Duchess of Padua, all by Oscar Wilde -The Thief's Journal/Our Lady Of The Flowers/Miracle Of The Rose, all by Jean Genet -A Diamond Guitar by Truman Capote -Mixed Essays by Matthew Arnold -Venus In Furs by Leopold Sacher-Masoch -The Ministry Of Fear by Graham Greene -Brighton Rock by Graham Green -A Season in Hell by Arthur Rimbaud -The Street Of Crocodiles (aka Cinnamon Shops) by Bruno Schulz -Opium: The Diary Of His Cure by Jean Cocteau -The Lost Weekend by Charles Jackson -Howl by Allen Ginsberg -Women In Love by DH Lawrence -The Tempest by William Shakespeare -Trilby by George du Maurier -The Vision Of Jean Genet by Richard Coe -"Literature And The Crisis" by Isaiah Berlin -Le Cid by Pierre Corneille -The Paris Peasant by Louis Aragon -Junky by William S Burroughs -Absolute Beginners by Colin MacInnes -Futz by Rochelle Owens -They Shoot Horses Don't They? by Horace McCoy -"An Inquiry On Love" by La revolution surrealiste magazine -Idea by Michael Drayton -"The Nymph's Reply to The Shepherd" by Sir Walter Raleigh -Hamlet by William Shakespeare -The Silver Shilling/The Old Church Bell/The Snail And The Rose Tree all by Hans Christian Andersen -120 Days Of Sodom by Marquis de Sade -Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke -Poetics Of Space by Gaston Bachelard -In Favor Of The Sensitive Man and Other Essays by Anais Nin -La Batarde by Violette LeDuc -Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov -Intimate Journals by Charles Baudelaire -Juno And The Paycock by Sean O'Casey -England Is Mine by Michael Bracewell -"The Prelude" by William Wordsworth -Noise: The Political Economy of Music by Jacques Atalli -"Elm" by Sylvia Plath -"I am pleased with my sight..." by Rumi -She Stoops To Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith -Amphitryon by John Dryden -Oscar Wilde by Richard Ellman -The Song Of The South by James Rennell Rodd -In Her Praise by Robert Graves -"For That He Looked Not Upon Her" by George Gascoigne -"Order And Disorder" by Lucy Hutchinson -Man Crazy by Joyce Carol Oates -A Pictorial History Of Sex In The Movies by Jeremy Pascall and Clyde Jeavons -Anarchy State & Utopia by Robert Nozick -"Limbo" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge -Men In Love: Masculinity and Sexuality in the Eighteenth Century by George Haggerty

[arbitrary line break because tumble hates lists apparently]

-Crime And Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky -Innocent When You Dream: the Tom Waits Reader -"Identity Card" by Mahmoud Darwish -Ulysses by James Joyce -The Four Quartets poems by TS Eliot -Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare -A'Rebours/Against The Grain by Joris-Karl Huysmans -Prisoner Of Love by Jean Genet -Down And Out In Paris And London by George Orwell -The Man With The Golden Arm by Nelson Algren -Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates -"Epitaph To A Dog" by Lord Byron -Cocaine Nights by JG Ballard -"Not By Bread Alone" by James Terry White -Anecdotes Of The Late Samuel Johnson by Hester Thrale -"The Owl And The Pussycat" by Edward Lear -"Chevaux de bois" by Paul Verlaine -A Strong Song Tows Us: The Life of Basil Bunting by Richard Burton -Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes -The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri -The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling -The Man Who Would Be King by Rudyard Kipling -Ask The Dust by John Frante -On The Trans-Siberian Railways by Blaise Cendrars -The 39 Steps by John Buchan -The Overcoat by Nikolai Gogol -The Government Inspector by Nikolai Gogol -The Iliad by Homer -Heart Of Darkness by Joseph Conrad -The Volunteer by Shane O'Doherty -Twenty Love Poems and A Song Of Despair by Pablo Neruda -"May Banners" by Arthur Rimbaud -Literary Outlaw: The life and times of William S Burroughs by Ted Morgan -The Penguin Dorothy Parker -Smoke by William Faulkner -Hero And Leander by Christopher Marlowe -My Lady Nicotine by JM Barrie -All I Ever Wrote by Ronnie Barker -The Libertine by Stephen Jeffreys -On Murder Considered As One Of The Fine Arts by Thomas de Quincey -The Void Ratio by Shane Levene and Karolina Urbaniak -The Remains Of The Day by Kazuo Ishiguro -Dead Fingers Talk by William S Burroughs -The England's Dreaming Tapes by Jon Savage -London Underworld by Henry Mayhew

[askfriskandcompany]

*asks the same question about who Frisk sees as their father figure but uses they/them because I'm a human with a brain*

Frisk isn't concerned with whether or not they have a father figure in their life or not. Found families need not conform to the an arbitrary nuclear family structure after all.

But if you're asking what they do on Father's Day? Asgore's the one who gets the Father's Day cards because whether or not he's specifically Frisk's father, he is THE father.

In actuality, Toriel is the only one who has authority over Frisk as a guardian. If Frisk misbehaves, she's the only one who can discipline them, for example. If Asgore or Sans attempted that, she would see it as undermining her authority.

-TQ

[galedekarios]

i love your metas and gifs of gale!! do you have any particular headcanon for when his birthday is? i always imagine it being in winter for some reason.

thank you so much for your message and your kind words!

i hadn't thought about it before, but ever since i got your message and took some time to mull it over, i've settled on something that i think makes sense for gale.

i wrote a meta about waterdhavian festivals and celebrations, and before i delved deeper into the topic, i briefly touched on the calendar that is most widely used in faerûn:

i like to imagine he was born somewhere in the month of tarsakh, the claw of storms. i think it's a good fit largely because of gale's connection to storms, thunder and lightning and similar imagery.

from his key art (click for a larger version):

to his art for the mtg card set (click for a larger version):

to a not insignificant amount of lines of dialogue from gale referencing storms, tempests, winds, etc., which prompted me in early access to make a gifset of a handful of them:

gale: as for myself: i'm a pragmatic. i see the silence before the storm.

gale: there's a gust of the weave about you, but it's a mere breeze. i need a tempest.

gale: rather soon i will feel it [the orb] stir again - like a distant thunder sending tremors through the soul. i will need to consume another artefact before the lightning strikes.

gale: i can feel the storm abating. yes, this will keep my condition in check - for a precious while.

gale: life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace.

(there are also some of his selection lines like "a rough tempest i will raise." and "let's light them up.")

to his very name carrying the same connection:

Joy; Wind Meaning: Joy; Wind; Tranquility; My father is joy; Gives joy; Foreigner, outlander. Gale is a gender-neutral name of English origin with a range of diverse meanings, including “joy,” “wind,” or “tranquility.” It was derived from the Old English word gal, which was used to describe someone who was pleasant or merry.

and of course the word gale itself:

A gale is a strong wind; the word is typically used as a descriptor in nautical contexts.

(all of this originally, way back when, made me think that gale might have been first meant to be / conceived as a storm sorcerer.

we knew in early access that he had such a deep connection to the weave from very early on in his life, and in full release that was only confirmed even more with gale having been able to cast spells as a baby, summoning rabbits in his mother's pantry, as well as being able to cast third-level spells like fireball at age 8 or perhaps younger.)

so yes, tarsakh, the claw of storms makes a really good fit for gale in my eyes.

if i had to pick a day as well, i might pick a number commonly associated with magic like 3 (perfect balance of harmony, wisdom understanding / the number of time past, present, future), 7 or 13, but i realise it's an arbitrary pick on my side.

edited to say that i also like the idea of it being in a spring month because spring symbolises new beginnings, letting go of the old and bringing in the new, which i find very fitting given gale's character arc.

anyhow, thank you so much for your question! i had a lot of fun thinking about this! 🖤

[bogleech]

The most fun mechanic to me in magic the gathering is creature tokens. To those who do not play this game, every one of these cards can just indefinitely generate little creatures onto the battlefield and you are allowed to represent them any way you want as long as it is clear to your opponent which ones are which so they can remember their characteristics. It would probably be rude of me to just pile rubber bugs onto the table and expect my opponent to remember that the Annelida are 1/1 black and green creatures but the Hymenoptera are 1/1 green creatures with flying and deathtouch

I think what some people do these days is they get just one of these token cards to be the quick ref and just pile littler things on them to show the individual tokens? You can make your own cards and there's a lot of great fan made ones but I kinda like a lot of the official ones too.

So the important question here is which color worm do I want for the worms, should I go with uncomfortably realistic or the neon green? Actually rhetorical question now that I think about it I would prefer they match the artwork I go with and I love the official worm Chuck Lucaks illustrated.

I thought these little guys would also be perfect for Saprolings (I like how they're conjoined but I'm gonna snap them in half to double my order) but while most Saprolings are depicted green, they are usually canonically fungi. Mike Burns illustrated one of my favorite Saproling Tokens in a proper pale fungus color so I should get these in white???

Steve Prescott's saproling is pink though! By my own arbitrary rules I could use the pink ones!

oh no

[yermes]

PAC: why you should invest in yourself 🍷

I don’t know how some of these fundies get off. The fact that they can be stay at home wives in a “safe” way is due to feminism. We should all be investing in our skill sets, knowledge, personal freedoms, and self happiness. Because at the end of the day when it all goes to shit no one can take away your self love, your wisdom, your knowledge, your beauty inside and out. The crime it is to assume someones worth by an arbitrary title or connection. The fact that you live in the tender nature of the divine is worthy enough

Heres a reminder

Disclaimer: please take what I say with a grain of salt and not as the gospel. I just want to share some ideas of practicing and giving advice using the medium as often as I can with school, work, and my own personal studies and practice. But I am working on sharing my notes soon so that will be exciting! Liking and sharing does a lot 🥰

Socials: Podcast | Follow me!

Pick a meme

1 2 3

The cards

Chariot 🦤

Mars associated with Mercury, Mars with Sun, Cancer, Binah to Geburah, water

You are a bitch with some real big and really glorified goals (not always a bad thing) to achieve these goals you must stay connected to the root of these goals and not to let your ego transcend the actual and original purpose. Keep your head and yourself stable in the pursuit of excellence.

Knight of disks ⭐️

21° Leo to 20° Virgo, Earth of Assiah, Chokmah

You are a strong enduring mother fucker. TAKE CARE OF YOUR VESSLE! Eat food that makes you happy, do small material things for yourself. Get a treat, get a tattoo get many! You have a lot of worldly and material goals. You need to take care of yourself and invest in yourself so you are able to invest in greater pursuits

The Empress 🪼

Venus in Taurus, Chokmah and Binah, Earth

You love. LIKE A LOT! It’s important to acknowledge that amazing and multidimensional skill and you can use that skill to leverage other skills. But while you do give a mom vibe. You are no ones mommy. Don’t give so much you neglect yourself and your pursuit. You Have an abundance of creative energy, please foster and take care of it.

Extras:

Story/vent:

My new hoodie came in! New ear drip come tmrw

[amywritesthings]

gingerbread sweet. / a reiner holiday ficlet

pairing: reiner braun x f!reader ( attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin ) word count: 1.1k summary: It's the Titan frat's annual gingerbread house competition. Your boyfriend, Reiner Braun, is determined to win. You, however, are determined to distract.

tags: modern au - university, holiday fluff, gingerbread houses, all the marleyans are in a frat bc i said so, devoted boyfriend!reiner, light sexual tension credit: dividers by @saradika

welcome to the eleventh day of the twelve days of amymas !!

“Does the door look crooked to you?”

"The what?"

"The door. Look at it."

There’s nothing more amusing than watching your hulk of a boyfriend crouch over a tiny gingerbread house.

Reiner Braun squints as he presses a gumdrop to the front — circular windows make it modern, or so he claims — then pauses.

Distracted by a very minor detail, you can already feel his anxiety running his brain a mile a minute: a lopsided door may deduct a few points from Marcel's arbitrary points system from this very arbitrary holiday competition.

Because he's absolutely fucking determined to win.

Granted, the bragging rights are his, but the grand prize will not be — Reiner, of course, rarely rides this hard for something he wants.

No, he’s too willing to put everyone else's wants and needs above his own.

So the grand prize of the Titan fraternity annual gingerbread house competition is going to go to you, hell or high water.

He’s going to win you that goddamn spa day gift card that Marcel has been dangling as a sweet little incentive no matter how long it takes him to mold this gingerbread house into his image.

"I think it looks straight."

The tip of his pink tongue pokes out a little from his pressed lips as he leans in closer. "...I trust your eye more than mine."

The blonde sits up to fish for the green icing piping bag. He's gentle with the way he eases the icing along the edges of the tiny confectionary door.

(An icing wreath, like this couldn't be anymore adorable.)

“Reiner?” you coo.

“Yeah, babe.”

Flat. He’s in the zone.

“You know you don’t have to slave over this thing, right?”

You scoot your chair closer to his, dropping your temple to his large tricep.

“I can buy my own spa day card.”

“False,” he corrects. “I’ll buy you the spa day card myself, but if I gotta cheat Porco out of winning for the third year in a row. Pieck’s gone at least five times on our dime.”

"When were the other two times?" you ask, not correlating the math.

"Well, our freshman year," Reiner begins, using the green icing to make little bushes at the foundation of the house, "we did a Valentine's day relay race that ended up with Bert in urgent care with a broken nose. Then, the one-and-only pool party chicken fight tournament — Pieck and Porco fought dirty."

"Is that why it was the one and only?"

"Yeah. Bert got another bloody nose, but that time from Annie going a little too hard."

He snorts.

"We had to save him from becoming the next Owen Wilson, so — no more chicken tournaments."

Titan frat is… well, excessively competitive, you've learned in your year or so of dating Reiner.

(Blame Porco and the new pledge, Eren Yeager, for only exasperating in this year with the month-long holiday challenges.)

You shrug a shoulder. “I could help.”

“And mess up your pretty nails?” Reiner shakes his head, glancing briefly through his peripheral vision. He smirks. “Ain’t no way.”

Right.

Reiner’s also very giving, during this season — in more ways than one.

First it was the fully-paid-for manicure yesterday.

Then it was the reservation for a Christmas Eve dinner to your favorite spot in the inner city.

Now he’s trying to win Marcel's approval in this ridiculous decorating contest in your name, and you feel… well, loved.

(There's no disputing that you've won the boyfriend lottery.)

Which, of course, means you have only one thing you can do in this situation.

He’s too wound up.

Distracted.

So you reach down to the pile of icing supplies strewn about, picking the small red accented tube.

You swipe some on the tip of your finger, mindful not to get it under your nails.

Reiner doesn’t even see it happening.

He’s too busy playing fixer-upper on the front side of the house, his too-big hands delicately toying with the too-small decorations he’s pasting on the cookie.

You wait a few seconds, letting him place the door where he wishes, before swiping the icing over the side of his neck.

Reiner tenses, turning to see what the hell just hit his neck, but he’s too late—

You’re already leaning in, sliding the tip of your tongue along his skin.

The man gasps, dropping his own piping bag to the supply assortment below.

“What are you—”

“Decorating,” you murmur nonsensically, grinning from ear to ear as his attention disappears completely from the gingerbread house to you.

“The guys are in the other room,” he rasps, eyes wide.

The pledges, he means — banished to the enclosed patio as they work on their own poorly-designed houses.

Through the last year while dating Reiner,  you’ve learned very quickly how sensitive he is.

Sometimes all it takes is a look to get him hard.

Your ego has never recovered, and it’s not deflating now.

Except his eyes soften and a gentle chuckle exits his throat when his golden eyes search your face.

“Wait, you got—”

“What?”

His hand gently cradles your jaw. 

“Hold still, baby.”

His thumb raises to swipe at your nose, where his smile only grows.

You stay still, obedient to his command, unable to stop looking at him.

God, he’s gorgeous.

He’s so fucking gor—

Something touches your lips, and you belatedly realize Reiner’s taken it upon himself to push the red icing along the seam of your lips, parting them easily.

You can taste the sugary sweetness on the tip of your tongue.

“Shit, sorry." When your brows knit in confusion, Reiner explains himself. "Seems like I missed a spot.”

Oh.

Oh.

His pupils dilate as his gaze drops to your lips, as if he’s ready to devour your whole.

Your entire body turns into flames.

“Just one spot?” you murmur, and a wicked smirk crawls to his mouth.

That same thumb drops to glide the remaining icing over your chin.

“I fear it's a couple of spots, but don't worry. I'll get you cleaned up.” He tilts his chin. “I take care of my girl, remember?”

(As if you could ever forget.)

His words get your blood pumping. Pledges and wandering eyes be damned.

“What about the gingerbread house?” you murmur, entranced by the way he continues absently swiping icing over your jaw, chin, and cheeks.

(Marking a trail his lips will devour.)

“We can bring the icing upstairs,” Reiner suggests with an innocent shrug. You know it’s anything but. “I’ll finish that damn house eventually, but I have something sweeter to tend to.”

Before you can say another word, the blonde stands from his chair and gently takes your hand into his.

You easily stand with him, unable to stop giggling as he tugs you eagerly upstairs.

He’s determined to win, yes, but to him —

He’s already won.

He has you, after all.

.

[iphigeniacomplex]

লিখি লোৱা, মই এজন মিঞা ("Write Down 'I am a Miyah'", 2016) by Hafiz Ahmed, translated from Assamese to English by Shalim M. Hussain, began a movement of resistance poetry among Assamese Muslims of Bengali descent, referred to as Miya Poetry after a slur used to describe this community. From Abdul Kalam Azad, for Indian Express ("Write...I am a Miya", 2019):

This poem went viral and other young poets started responding to him through poems. The young poets also started reclaiming “Miya”, a slur used against us, as our identity with pride. This chain of Facebook posts continued for days, reiterating the violence, suffering and humiliation expressed by our community. As time passed, more poets wrote in various languages and dialects, including many Miya dialects. The nomenclature ‘Miya Poetry’ got generated organically but the poets and their associates have been inspired by the Negritude and Black Arts movements, and queer, feminist and Dalit literary movements, where the oppressed have reclaimed the identity which was used to dehumanise them. The trend transcended our community. Poets from the mainstream Assamese community also wrote several poems in solidarity with the Miya poets while some regretted not being poets. Gradually, this became a full-fledged poetry movement and got recognised by other poets, critics and commentators. The quality and soul of these poems are so universal that they started finding prominence on reputed platforms. For the first time in the history of our community, we had started telling our own stories and reclaiming the Miya identity to fight against our harassers who were dehumanising us with the same word. They accused us of portraying the whole Assamese society as xenophobic. The fact is we have just analysed our conditions. Forget generalising the Assamese society as ‘xenophobic’, no Miya poet has ever used the term ‘xenophobic’ nor any of its variants. The guilt complex of our accusers is so profound that they don’t have the patience to examine why we wrote the poems.

Amrita Singh, writing for The Caravan ("Assam Against Itself", 2019), detailed the political backlash against Miya Poetry, in particular the above poem.

On 10 July this year, Pranabjit Doloi, an Assam-based journalist, filed a complaint at Guwahati’s Panbazar police station accusing ten people of indulging in criminal activities “to defame the Assamese people as Xenophobic in the world.” Doloi claimed that the ten people were trying to hinder the ongoing updation of the National Register of Citizens, a list of Assam’s Indian citizens that is due to be published on 31 August. The premise of Doloi’s complaint was a widely-circulated poem called, “Write down I am Miya,” by Hafiz Ahmed, a school teacher and social activist. “Write. Write down I am a Miya/ A citizen of democratic secular republic without any rights,” Ahmed wrote. The police registered a first information report against Doloi’s complaint, booking all ten persons for promoting enmity between groups, among other offences. [...] At the press conference, Mander emphasised that people in Assam are in distress because of the NRC’s arbitrary and rigid procedures. “One spelling mistake when you are writing a Bengali name in English … that is enough for you to be in a detention center, declared a foreigner,” Mander said. “If you are not allowing this lament to come out in the form of poetry, then where is this republic of India going?”

Ahmed's poem is influenced in structure by "Identity Card", a 1964 poem by by Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish which uses the symbolic figure of the Palestinian working man to confront Israeli occupiers. Darwish's identity card, a symbol of Israeli subjugation transformed into a cry of Palestinian national identity, is reshaped by Ahmed into the National Register of Citizens for Assam and the accompanying fear of statelessness and disenfranchisement for the Miya people.

This solidarity between writers from oppressed groups is, of course, not one that ends with Darwish and Ahmed, nor with the Black, queer, feminist, and Dalit influences of Miya Poetry. As long as there is oppression, there will be companionship and recognition reflected in art and activism. On December 13, 2023, Black Agenda Report reprinted Refaat Alareer's "If I Must Die", acknowledging the connection between Alareer's poem and "If We Must Die" by Claude McKay, written in 1919 in response to the Red Summer white supremacist riots. In 2000, Haitian community activist Dahoud Andre translated "If We Must Die" into Kreyòl, and the Black Agenda Report editorial honors Alareer in a similar way, reprinting "If I Must Die" with an accompanying Kreyòl translation. (POEM: If I Must Die, Refaat Alareer, 2023.)

Transcripts under the cut.

[Hafiz Ahmed Transcripts (Assamese and English):

লিখি লোৱা, মই এজন মিঞা

লিখা, লিখি লোৱা মই এজন মিঞা এন. আৰ. চিৰ ক্রমিক নং ২০০৫৪৩ দুজন সন্তানৰ বাপেক মই, অহাবাৰ গ্ৰীষ্মত জন্ম ল’ব আৰু এজনে তাকো তুমি ঘিণ কৰিবা নেকি যিদৰে ঘিণ কৰা মোক?

লিখি লোৱা, মই এজন মিঞা পতিত ভূমি, পিতনিক মই ৰূপান্তৰিত কৰিছোঁ শস্য-শ্যামলা সেউজী পথাৰলৈ তোমাক খুৱাবলৈ মই ইটা কঢ়িয়াইছোঁ তোমাৰ অট্টালিকা সাজিবলৈ, তোমাৰ গাড়ী চলাইছোঁ তোমাক আৰাম দিবলৈ, তোমাৰ নৰ্দমা ছাফা কৰিছোঁ তোমাক নিৰোগী কৰি ৰাখিবলৈ, তোমাৰে সেৱাতে মগন মই অনবৰত তাৰ পিছতো কিয় তুমি খৰ্গহস্ত? লিখা, লিখি লোৱা মই এজন মিঞা গণতান্ত্ৰিক, গণৰাজ্য এখনৰ নাগৰিক এজন যাৰ কোনো অধিকাৰ নাইকিয়া মাতৃক মোৰ সজোৱা হৈছে সন্দেহযুক্ত ভোটাৰ যদিও পিতৃ-মাতৃ তাইৰ নিঃসন্দেহে ভাৰতীয়

ইচ্ছা কৰিলেই তুমি মোক হত্যা কৰিব পাৰা, জ্বলাই দিব পৰা মোৰ খেৰৰ পঁজা, খেদি দিব পাৰা মোক মোৰেই গাঁৱৰ পৰা, কাঢ়ি নিব পাৰা মোৰ সেউজী পথাৰ মোৰ বুকুৰ ওপৰেৰে চলাব পাৰা তোমাৰ বুলড্‌জাৰ তোমাৰ বুলেটে বুকুখন মোৰ কৰিব পাৰে থকাসৰকা (তোমাৰ এই কাৰ্যৰ বাবে তুমি কোনো স্তিও নোপোৱা) যুগ-যুগান্তৰ তোমাৰ অত্যাচাৰ সহ্য কৰি ব্ৰহ্মপুত্ৰৰ চৰত বাস কৰা মই এজন মিঞা মোৰ দেহা হৈ পৰিছে নিগ্ৰো কলা মোৰ চকুযুৰি অঙঠাৰ দৰে ৰঙা সাৱধান! মোৰ দুচকুত জমা হৈ আছে যুগ যুগান্তৰৰ বঞ্চনাৰ বাৰুদ আঁতৰি যোৱা, নতুবা অচিৰেই পৰিণত হ’বা মূল্যহীন ছাইত!

Write Down ‘I am a Miyah’ Hafiz Ahmed, 2016 trans. Shalim M. Hussain

Write Write Down I am a Miya My serial number in the NRC is 200543 I have two children Another is coming Next summer. Will you hate him As you hate me?

write I am a Miya I turn waste, marshy lands To green paddy fields To feed you. I carry bricks To build your buildings Drive your car For your comfort Clean your drain To keep you healthy. I have always been In your service And yet you are dissatisfied! Write down I am a Miya, A citizen of a democratic, secular, Republic Without any rights My mother a D voter, Though her parents are Indian.

If you wish kill me, drive me from my village, Snatch my green fields hire bulldozers To roll over me. Your bullets Can shatter my breast for no crime.

Write I am a Miya Of the Brahamaputra Your torture Has burnt my body black Reddened my eyes with fire. Beware! I have nothing but anger in stock. Keep away! Or Turn to Ashes.

]

[Mahmoud Darwish Transcripts (Arabic and English):

سجِّل أنا عربي ورقمُ بطاقتي خمسونَ ألفْ وأطفالي ثمانيةٌ وتاسعهُم.. سيأتي بعدَ صيفْ! فهلْ تغضبْ؟ سجِّلْ أنا عربي وأعملُ مع رفاقِ الكدحِ في محجرْ وأطفالي ثمانيةٌ أسلُّ لهمْ رغيفَ الخبزِ، والأثوابَ والدفترْ من الصخرِ ولا أتوسَّلُ الصدقاتِ من بابِكْ ولا أصغرْ أمامَ بلاطِ أعتابكْ فهل تغضب؟ سجل أنا عربي أنا اسم بلا لقبِ صَبورٌ في بلادٍ كلُّ ما فيها يعيشُ بفَوْرةِ الغضبِ جذوري قبلَ ميلادِ الزمانِ رستْ وقبلَ تفتّحِ الحقبِ وقبلَ السّروِ والزيتونِ .. وقبلَ ترعرعِ العشبِ أبي.. من أسرةِ المحراثِ لا من سادةٍ نُجُبِ وجدّي كانَ فلاحاً بلا حسبٍ.. ولا نسبِ! يُعَلّمني شموخَ الشمسِ قبلَ قراءةِ الكتبِ وبيتي’ كوخُ ناطورٍ منَ الأعوادِ والقصبِ فهل تُرضيكَ منزلتي؟ أنا اسم بلا لقبِ! سجلْ أنا عربي ولونُ الشعرِ.. فحميٌّ ولونُ العينِ.. بنيٌّ وميزاتي: على رأسي عقالٌ فوقَ كوفيّه وكفّي صلبةٌ كالصخرِ... تخمشُ من يلامسَها وعنواني: أنا من قريةٍ عزلاءَ منسيّهْ شوارعُها بلا أسماء وكلُّ رجالها في الحقلِ والمحجرْ فهل تغضبْ؟ سجِّل! أنا عربي سلبتُ كرومَ أجدادي وأرضاً كنتُ أفلحُها أنا وجميعُ أولادي ولم تتركْ لنا.. ولكلِّ أحفادي سوى هذي الصخورِ... فهل ستأخذُها حكومتكم��.. كما قيلا!؟ إذنْ سجِّل.. برأسِ الصفحةِ الأولى أنا لا أكرهُ الناسَ ولا أسطو على أحدٍ ولكنّي.. إذا ما جعتُ آكلُ لحمَ مغتصبي حذارِ.. حذارِ.. من جوعي ومن غضبي!!

Identity Card Mahmoud Darwish, 1964 trans. Denys Johnson-Davies

Put it on record. I am an Arab

And the number of my card is fifty thousand I have eight children And the ninth is due after summer. What's there to be angry about?

Put it on record. I am an Arab

Working with comrades of toil in a quarry. I have eight children For them I wrest the loaf of bread, The clothes and exercise books From the rocks And beg for no alms at your door, Lower not myself at your doorstep. What's there to be angry about?

Put it on record. I am an Arab.

I am a name without a title, Patient in a country where everything Lives in a whirlpool of anger. My roots Took hold before the birth of time Before the burgeoning of the ages, Before cypress and olive trees, Before the proliferation of weeds.

My father is from the family of the plough Not from highborn nobles.

And my grandfather was a peasant Without line or genealogy.

My house is a watchman's hut Made of sticks and reeds.

Does my status satisfy you? I am a name without a surname.

Put it on record. I am an Arab.

Color of hair: jet black. Color of eyes: brown. My distinguishing features: On my head the `iqal cords over a keffiyeh Scratching him who touches it.

My address: I'm from a village, remote, forgotten, Its streets without name And all its men in the fields and quarry. What's there to be angry about?

Put it on record. I am an Arab.

You stole my forefathers' vineyards And land I used to till, I and all my children, And you left us and all my grandchildren Nothing but these rocks. Will your government be taking them too As is being said?

So! Put it on record at the top of page one: I don't hate people, I trespass on no one's property.

And yet, if I were to become hungry I shall eat the flesh of my usurper. Beware, beware of my hunger And of my anger!

]

[velvetvexations]

There's this intuitive feeling around mpsec orientations that are like, "but that's just not what the word means!", but if you really dig in the issue is that orientations don't really make a lot of sense conceptually because they're inherently tied to binary sex.

For instance, I'm a trans woman. Yet, until I get my tits, anyway, if I'm not wearing a big red bow like Ms. Pac-Man it would be completely impossible to guess that just from looking at me. Because trans women are women, a lesbian could date me and keep her lesbian card, at least among trans positive crowds.

For TERFs, this sounds like a win at first, like I'm pointing out a way in which being trans doesn't make sense because if a lesbian is into someone who looks exactly like a cis man she can't be a lesbian, right? Except...cis lesbians have been made fun of, harassed, and terrorized for their masculinity as far back as can be remembered. Even straight women have been put through the ringer if they don't look feminine enough - I will, for the millionth time, point to Chyna - but among lesbians specifically there have been countless women who could plausibly pass for men if they put just a little bit of effort into it, and many did because being butch as hell is something to be celebrated even if they didn't frame their far-end-of-the-scale butchness as wanting to "pass for men". They could have.

So in both cases, trans or cis, being attracted to a woman who is identical to society's idea of a man is not a disqualifier from being a lesbian. "Political" or "mspec" lesbianism, identifying with lesbianism for a reason other than definitionally being attracted solely to people who identify as women, is the only way the idea of being a lesbian makes sense. It's the only way being gay or straight makes sense. Because gender is so arbitrary, there's no way to make it work unless you're willing to enforce a strict binary that very few queer people want.

Like if you think girls can/should only have soft delicate features and wear lipstick and dresses, fine, I guess it's logically consistent to say being a lesbian is physical attraction to a fixed, limited set of features. But if you're willing to broaden your horizons to any extent, what being attracted to a woman means quickly breaks down. A TERF would say it's physical sex that matters and something something AMAB vaginas aren't the same but I'd like to take a Kinsey Detector and scan a lesbian who loves getting strapped by a hyper-masculine butch to see where she lands.

So there are all these situations where we say "still a lesbian", even though logically the people who are into those girls should be plenty capable of being attracted other people. To bring it back to the trans point of view, I don't really understand how a lesbian could be attracted to me and then turn around and say lesbianism is based purely on what gender you're attracted to, while some would be viciously mean to her and accuse her of transphobia (which I would hate) if she weren't into me. Because what if, hypothetically, I woke up tomorrow and said "you know, I think I'm feeling more comfortable thinking of myself as a man these days " - that changes everything over night? That lesbian is no longer attracted to me when I change my pronouns? What if I had already been thinking that and I just didn't say anything about it, was she attracted to a man for a brief period of time?

Gender and how we classify attraction is just very, very arbitrary. Gender abolitionists see trans people as reinforcing gender, but I've always said that if they thought about it for two seconds they'd realize trans people are a deathblow to everything they hate about gender. They can't separate gender from sex so they see it as trans people wanting every girl who's not traditionally feminine to be boys and every boy who's not traditionally masculine to be women.

And, well, that's one reason I hate egg shit because yeah that is actually kinna doing that. It's at least reinforcing pink=girl mentality. Like to be clear, I'm not saying you can't associate girlhood with the color pink, I just think that when a cis man likes the color pink and you go "have you tried estrogen?" you're not just associating the two concepts but actively backing up the societal expectation that to like pink is to be a girl. It's like the difference between associating candy canes with Christmas and being convinced it's somehow already December again when you see peppermints being sold in the middle of March.

But other than that, which I've gone on the record against over and over, trans people are smashing society's concept of gender into pieces. "Orientation" as traditionally thought of must naturally also come down because it rests atop that foundation.

[topgunalternateuniverse]

Event Status: Complete!

Love playing in different trope and prompt sandboxes? Want another event to add to your already overfilled schedule? Like arbitrary badges you can put all over your blog as one more trophy toward fandom superiority? You're in the right place!

Top Gun Alternate Universe Bingo is a no-pressure event hoping to inject these silly pilots into a gamut of new and interesting situations! Have you ever wondered what Hangman might be like as a space pirate running from Galactic Lawmaker Rooster? It might just happen with an event like this! (If the bingo cards Google Excel random generator gods are on our sides!)

Please see below and check out the links for more in-depth information!

General Event Info

This is a multi-media event. All kinds of fanwork are allowed and counted toward squares filled on your bingo card.

Each card consists of 24 different prompts (and 1 free square) that can be mixed and matched however you like.

There are 3 different board options, SFW cards have prompts primarily suited for SFW creations, NSFW cards have prompts primarily suited for NSFW creations, and Mixed cards, as you might have guessed, include both SFW and NSFW prompts.

More Info! on minimums and what counts toward submissions.

Schedule

The event will run for 4 months and can be joined at any time.

March 1st: Let's Turn and Burn - the fandom event takes off!

July 1st: Last Buzz of the Tower - last day to submit your card!

Sign-up Form: Closed!

Collection

If you have any questions or concerns regarding this exchange, please feel free to send an Ask, a DM, an Email, or check out the FAQ!

This exchange is hosted by:

    • Alex (ReformedTsundere / @film-in-my-soul)

[council-of-beetroot]

Tolys humiliation ideas?

Always

I think he is more impacted by humiliation than by physical torture. With pain comes adrenaline and a sense of being stronger from enduring because I think liet prefers situations where he believes he is suffering for the benefit of everyone else. he is very self sacrificing in that way

Things that live rent free in my head

This ↑

Him being punished publicly at a world meeting

Bonus points if he is scolded, reprimanded, or berated, then forced to apologize because he caused scene

Making him ask for permission for even the teeniest thing

Having like Ivan assert his control over him in front of his own countrymen such as his own soldiers.

Give him pointless work and make him write a report on something that's like 50 pages hand written then make him redo arbitrarily because his handwriting isn't neat

One thing I love is having like Ivan make him repeat stuff and make him answer why he did something

One thing I love is having Ivan act like any legitimate grievance of Liet's is purely liet just being difficult and emotional.

Scenes in my head include Ivan killing someone in retribution and acting like Liet's anger is akin to a child being mad that their toy was taken away.

Scenes in my head include Ivan treating him like a disobedient puppy. No longer the iron wolf eh.

I have a whole pinterest board filled with weird ass dresses he should wear

Forced feminization is one of my favourite things of all time and I have a post somewhere discussing it and why it is an effective humiliation for him.

Setting him up to fail especially if it's something. Have him go grab something but cause him to trip up the stairs or the like. He thinks he can be the ruler of eastern Europe but he can't do such a simple task.

Make him sing patriotic songs. I feel like I've seen this in a fic where Ivan catches him humming a banned song so he does this.

Enroll him in ballet. It will keep him busy.

Keeping him on such an intense schedule where literally every minute is planned to the point that he has absolutely no control in anything he does in a day.

Really test his obedience akin to how you would a dog. He says he will obey this time around but why not have fun by making him sit and stay and roll over.

Make him choose between two equally bad options

Making him thank Ivan for punishing him

Having Ivan refuse to let him do things like hold silverware since "he can't be trusted with it"

Controlling who he is allowed to speak to

Collar with a bell

Make him beg for anything food, clothing, etc. Ooh Ivan having all the cards and just being arbitrary about ooh I don't think that was sincere enough.

Making him stand at attention for hours

Making him sit at Ivan's feet especially in front of people

Ivan renaming him. Tolys is his after all he can do what he wants

Make him sit on Ivan's lap

Make him the wager in a card game

[citrusses]

January: 2023 Wrapped 🎁🍊

*some* of my favorite 2023 fics, by month they were published (or started to publish, or finished publishing, it's arbitrary bc i make the rules), plus some thoughts on what made these fics so special.

January | February | March | April, May, June | July | August | September | October | November | December

Chicken Shop Date by @sorrybutblog (T, 2K)

Draco and Harry sit down for an interview. Or is it a date?

This is such a fun premise and the Harry/Draco banter just sizzles. The atmosphere is so rich! 2K words of perfection that pack an outsized punch.

Close Behind by @oflights (M, 134K)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

A masterpiece that deconstructs every relationship in the HP universe and then rebuilds it, that does mind-boggling things with narrative structure, that stressed me out so badly I felt physically ill, that was so moving it left me bursting into tears for days after I read it, that had the funniest single line I've read in a fic maybe ever. So far reading this is the only time I've ever checked the tags on a fic for "happy ending" because I was so emotionally overwhelmed by it that I needed to know it would be ok in the end. I can't overstate how much I love this one.

For Lack of Wanting by @fluxweeed (E, 8K)

Over the last ten years, I’ve worked hard to become a better person. I hate being reminded of who I used to be. But Harry likes it when I’m mean.

A gorgeous, painful story that explores a kind of Harry/Draco dynamic that's not seen as often in fics (a SAD one), but is done exceptionally well here. It hurts so good!

Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58K)

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed. Never a man to squander an opportunity for revenge (and what would probably be a spectacular shag), Draco vows to make Potter his for the weekend. Now all Draco has to do is convince him.

@the-sinking-ship regularly writes: my favorite kind of Draco, my favorite kind of romance/getting together AND my favorite kind of smut. This fic is all of those things.

Polar Night/Midnight Sun by toomuchplor (E, 54K)

Harry travels to arctic Norway on the trail of dragon egg poachers, only to find he's been assigned to work alongside the only NorMagPol Auror north of sixty: one Draco Malfoy. It's been ten years since they crossed paths, and Malfoy isn't exactly what Harry expected or remembered. For one thing, he wears a lot more hand-knits? When a sudden winter storm strands the pair, unable to use magic to rescue themselves, they take shelter in a one-room Norwegian hytte.

The hottest fic in the coldest setting, this one made me absolutely FERAL. The most evocative scenery, incredible characterization, and the perfect pacing building to an explosively sexy and tender relationship. Also I would read like, 100K more words on just the mittens and jumpers and scarves of this fic, which are not items of clothing I have cared much about in the past. It's just that every detail, down to the smallest, is incredible!

When It Returns by @academicdisasterfic (M, 8K)

‘You’re late, layabout,’ Malfoy drawled, pushing the whiskey over to him. ‘I’ll have you know that I am very busy maintaining a whole house and garden by myself now.’ ‘Oooh, the dead husband card. Before any alcohol. Is that a record?’ Harry's husband is dead, and Malfoy is the only one who gets it. Or, the one where they drink at a straight man pub, renovate a house, and learn how to find joy again.

January was a good month for feeling bad. It's another angsty one! This one is full of beautiful healing in the face of a loss that feels very real, Draco annoying Harry out of his grief spiral (but in a loving way?) and Harry being on the right side of almost too stubborn for it to work. I have read and reread this many times already!

[curioussubjects]

Feedback Fest 2024

Since everything I've read for the past 1.5 years has been pilots, all 10 of the fics here are Kara/Lee from Battlestar Galactica. I'm only listing one fic per author, so be sure to check individual author pages if you liked their style.

(go here over on @transformativeworks for more info!)

1. In the Whole World by pennyante (M, ~80K, WIP)

Summary:

The Cylons aren't quite human, and the humans haven't quite forgiven them. Political stability is less certain than ever now that the war is over: Lee Adama finds himself up for re-election, where being defeated will mean a Gemenese theocracy puppeteered by Leoben Conoy. Meanwhile, Kara Thrace has nothing but questions about her death and destiny. The only answers available come in the form of the vision of a temple, and from her hybrid/comatose husband's cryptic ramblings about a sister artifact to the Arrow of Apollo.

There's violence in the air. Civil war looms. Can Lee and Kara save each other, and keep the fledgling colony whole?

Thoughts: The best season 4 fix-it, lives in my head rent free, rewired my brain, etc. Also I've read it, like, 3 times (and I cried).

2. We're Not Friends by ninety6tears (M, ~25K)

Summary:

When two soldiers in the middle of a war can't seem to like each other, baptism by fire is apparently the natural solution. (AU in which Kara never knew Zak and first meets Lee after the fall of the colonies.)

Thoughts: I love a different first meeting AU, and this one takes pilots on a fun rivals to lovers spin that works surprisingly well. They're still very unwell about each other, though, make no mistake.

3. Artemis Rising by clairza (M, ~11K)

Summary:

The next morning Lee makes a few phone calls, and when everything has been organized and his credit card has been used for the first time in three months, and he’s had the pleasure of telling his mother that no, he has plans this week, he tracks Kara down in the quad. 

She's lying on her stomach poking sticks upright in the grass. He sits down beside her, and he can see the tension in her shoulders.

“So,” he says casually, and he’s very proud of the way his voice doesn’t shake at all. “I hear the Aegean Peninsula is nice this time of year.”

“It probably is.”

“I’ve booked a unit.”

“Where are you going with this, Lee?” Thoughts: I have a huge soft spot for fluffy academy pilots and this fic absolutely delivers. Happy baby pilots go to the beach five stars no notes.

4. An Arranged Meeting by lark_ral (E, ~11K)

Summary: Even outside of wartime, you might be surprised by the pressures our service men and women are under. The most effective among them either have, or need a release valve. Thoughts: Lee and Kara are scene partners for years, then the Cylons come. Somehow less messy than the show, but still delicious.

5. Rota by leda13 (E, ~2K)

Summary: The days are arbitrary, in space. Bereft of the guide of a planet's rotation around the sun, they live in slices of time, stealing as many as they can. Thoughts: Emotional support curtain fic of pilots sneaking around.

6. Sufficient to the Day by rachelindeed (T, ~1.5K)

Summary: At the sound of Lee’s voice, she feels her stomach twist and drop. Reluctantly, she opens her eyes and sees him come to a stop an arm’s length away, settling one elbow onto the corner of the bleacher behind her. His jacket is unbuttoned, his hair mussed, jaw ghosted with stubble, and the frakking sun is rising behind him. The look on his face is casual and fond, but he breathes as if he’s been running. Thoughts: Mandatory UB morning after fix-it...sort of. I really like this one because all I wanted was for Lee to get to Kara first. Or for him to call her bluff. This fic is both. It's not a showdown on main street like I enjoy joking about, but it's quiet and it's them (so it's better!).

7. Contrecoup by Fahye (T, ~2.2K)

Summary:

Contrecoup (n): A concussion or shock produced by a blow or other injury, in a part or region opposite to that at which the blow is received, often causing rupture or disorganisation of the parts affected. (One story told right-way-up, the other told upside-down, but both in the same narrative.)

We begin at a single point in time. The present goes forwards. The past goes backwards.

The story is AU-within-canon and set after episode 1x11, "Colonial Day."

Thoughts: I can't say too much because I don't want to spoil the fic. So: a bit angsty, a lot sweet, with a side of Kara's amazing problem-solving skills.

8. Lee's Emo Coffeehouse by haycorn (M, ~2.9K)

Summary: Lee has a bar, and sometimes Kara makes his life more interesting. Thoughts: I love cute modern AUs in general, and I love them even more when there's pining involved. There's not nearly enough of this type of fic for pilots, either! Many thanks to the author for their service. Would read 100K of this 'verse.

9. Breathing Room by callmeonetrack (M, ~12K)

Summary: Kara and Lee adjust to their new, very separate lives on the Pegasus. Badly.

Thoughts: My favorite Pegasus fic! Being on the Pegasus sucks, but then Lee and Kara find each other and things get better. Chef's kiss, peak pilots.

10. And I Feel Fine by hazellazer (M, ~2.4K)

Summary:

“That was… that… why?”

Her hands stay firmly on his face, thumb brushing over his cheek. “I was just thinking—”

Cutting her off, he smirks. “You think?”

She swats at his arm, hard enough that it might actually bruise. “I thought you were dead, Lee.” Her gaze is harsh on his, voice rasping, before something softens. “And I should’ve done this the second I knew you weren’t.” Thoughts: Season 1, but Lee and Kara are together. It's nice, refreshing, and plain good.

[lenievi]

Guess it's fitting for today, so a translation of Czech version of Do You Hear the People Sing? When I say our songs are sometimes very different, this is what I mean.

[Stars], [Javert's Suicide]

Hear the song of the crowds

Enjolras: Hear the song of the crowds from the Vale of tears*; we want to live here we've had enough of poverty, woes, and arbitrariness. All we know is that the day will come when we'll say farewell to the darknesses, settle accounts with the monarchs, and freedom will come to us.

Combeferre: Tomorrow, the rulers can't just play with us anymore We'll send them a fiery visiting card from the barricades

Courfeyrac: After all, the one, whom the gods love, dies young.

Students: Hear the song of the crowds from the Vale of tears*; we want to live here we've had enough of poverty, woes, and arbitrariness. All we know is that the day will come when we'll say farewell to the darknesses, settle accounts with the monarchs, and freedom will come to us.

Feuilly: We will stand upright to defend the rights, and we'll put even the heart at risk, our tricolour will fly** and we won't lose the lustre, just, long live freedom, life, and motherland. Vive la France!

Students: Hear the song of the crowds from the Vale of tears*; we want to live here we've had enough of poverty, woes, and arbitrariness. All we know is that the day will come when we'll say farewell to the darknesses, settle accounts with the monarchs, and freedom will come to us.

---

*Vale of tears = the world full of trouble and sorrow (it's from the Bible)

**they make a French flag from three pieces of cloths and then they fly the French flag.

original lyricist: Zdeněk Borovec

[darkmaga-returns]

Originally posted Jan 2023.

The medical community and the media hang their hats on the use of ‘double-blind, placebo-controlled, peer-reviewed studies published in legacy journals such as The New England Journal of Medicine (NEJM) and the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA). In a future substack, I will go into detail about the fallacies, and even the scam, of peer review and why it should not be held out as sacrosanct.  

For today’s discussion, let’s examine why all vaccine research should be questioned. Yes, ALL of it. If you read enough studies, you’ll see the patterns described below. For this substack, I’ll use this study on the safety of hepatitis B vaccination in children in India as an example. The vaccine used, Revac-B, contained both 0.5mg of aluminum and 0.05 mg of thimerosal, considered to be safe.

1. Vaccine trials can be quite small and include only healthy children.

Every study begins with ‘selection criteria’ that describe including only healthy individuals. This is from the hepatitis B study example:

All 60 subjects included in the study were in good health and had a negative history of hematological, renal, hepatic, or allergic diseases. All were screened and found to have normal blood panels, including normal liver enzymes.

When a vaccine trial has been completed and the vaccine is approved for use by the FDA, the vaccine is recommended for ALL children, regardless of their health condition, family history, or genetics. In fact, the new shot is most ardently pushed on children with underlying health concerns, such as seizure disorders, cardiac anomalies, and conditions such as cystic fibrosis or Down’s syndrome. These children become the next round of experimentation because the vaccines were never tested for safety on these groups and others.

2.  Vaccine studies follow side effects for a short period of time.

Most clinical trials monitor for side effects for a paltry 21 days, often less. In some studies, such as in the example we are using, children were monitored for 5 days by study monitors and 5 days by cards given to parents. If no reactions occur, the shot is deemed to be ‘safe.’

However, it can take weeks to months for immune and neurological complications to appear. These arbitrary deadlines, allowed by the FDA, prohibit making the connection between vaccines with chronic health disorders. If an illness emerges later, of course, the doctors will say it has nothing to do with the vaccine.

3.  Most vaccine safety studies do not use a true placebo.

The gold standard in medical research is the "placebo-controlled" trial. A placebo is an inactive or inert substance, such as a sugar pill or a shot of saline. In the trial, the placebo is given to one group, while the treatment group is given the experimental product. The placebo arm is used to ‘blind’ the study so the investigator doesn’t know if the subject received the Real Thing or the Inert Substance to minimize interpretation bias.

When reading a published vaccine trial, the substance used as the placebo is often not identified; it is simply called ‘placebo.’ For example, in this study for a new hepatitis B vaccine to treat chronic hepatitis B, the word ‘placebo’ is used 22 times, but we don’t know what placebo was used.

And that’s a problem. The substance used as a ‘placebo’ is often not inert; it may even may be another vaccine. For example, I remember reading a study where the meningitis C vaccine was used as a placebo because it was considered to be non-immunogenic and non-reactive. Or, in the instance of the Gardasil (HPV) vaccine, the ‘placebo’ was an injection of aluminum.

All studies for the Gardasil vaccine were said to be placebo-controlled and the total population that received a placebo included 9,701 subjects. The placebo was an aluminum adjuvant in all studies except study 018 (pre-/adolescent safety study), which used a non-aluminum-containing placebo [and we don’t know what that placebo was]

[morgan-va]

Chapter 3: Helper's Delight (Serial Designation N x Reader)

Masterlist

You finish the last bite of your sandwich, setting the plate aside with a soft clink. The checklist. You’d almost forgotten about it amid the bizarre whirlwind of the last twelve hours. It’s been sitting there, practically taunting you from the coffee table. With a resigned sigh, you wipe your hands and stand, already dreading what tasks corporate has deemed so vital for the “testing” process.

N perks up at your movement, his neon-white eyes gleaming. “Are we doing something fun now?” he asks, his voice brimming with excitement, as though you’re about to announce a surprise birthday party.

“Sure,” you reply dryly, picking up the folder and flipping it open. “If by fun you mean checking off a bunch of arbitrary boxes to keep Corporate happy.”

N clasps his hands together, visibly thrilled anyway. “That does sound fun!”

You glance at him, skeptical. “You’re just saying that because you have no idea what we’re about to do.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it!” he chirps.

You shake your head, muttering something about overly enthusiastic robots as you scan the first item on the list: “1. Test basic motor functions in a controlled environment.”

“Basic motor functions? Haven’t we already been through that?” you mutter, recalling N’s impromptu peanut-collecting session and his unfortunate encounter with the washing machine.

“Motor functions!” N repeats, hopping off his chair and striking a pose like he’s preparing for a gymnastics routine.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Okay, fine. Let’s head to the living room. Try not to break anything.”

“Got it, boss!” N salutes dramatically before bounding toward the living room, narrowly avoiding your coffee table.

You follow, already dreading what this day will entail. Basic motor functions, you think. How bad could it be?

You stand in the middle of the living room, checklist in hand, watching N practically vibrate with energy. He’s shifting from foot to foot, a big smile plastered across his face. You glance down at the list again, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to “test” a robot’s motor functions in your modest living space.

“Okay,” you start, scratching your head, “walk from here to… there.” You gesture toward the other side of the room, where your TV sits precariously on a secondhand stand. “And try not to knock anything over.”

N straightens up and gives you another crisp salute. “Affirmative! Walking test initiated!”

He takes a single step—graceful, confident, and precise. Then another. For a moment, you’re almost impressed. Maybe this won’t be so—

“Oops!” N yelps as his foot catches on the edge of the rug, sending him into an awkward, stumbling lurch. He flails wildly, arms windmilling to keep his balance, and somehow manages to stop just short of toppling into your TV stand.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you watch the screen wobble dangerously. “Careful!” you snap.

N freezes in place, arms still outstretched, and looks at you sheepishly. “Was that part of the test?”

“No,” you deadpan.

“Oh! Good! Then I passed!” he beams, turning around with such enthusiasm that the corner of the rug lifts under his foot, sending your coffee table’s leg into a slight wobble.

You sigh, muttering under your breath, “This is going to be a long day.”

You check the next item on the list: “2. Test dexterity with small objects.”

“Great,” you say aloud. “N, come here.”

He bounds over immediately, nearly skidding to a stop in front of you. “What’s next? Juggling? Origami? Ooooh, a puzzle?”

“Close,” you say, opening the nearby junk drawer and pulling out a handful of random odds and ends—rubber bands, paperclips, and an old deck of playing cards. You set them on the coffee table and step back. “See if you can pick these up without breaking anything.”

N crouches down, inspecting the objects like a scientist observing a groundbreaking discovery. “On it!”

His hands reach out with surprising delicacy, plucking a single rubber band from the pile. He stretches it between his fingers, nodding proudly. “Easy!”

You fold your arms, trying not to smirk. “Great. Now try the paperclip.”

N picks up the tiny metal object with a bit more fumbling but manages to hold it up triumphantly. “Still got it!”

This isn’t so bad, you think, starting to feel a bit more optimistic—

CRACK.

The sound jolts you, and you realize with horror that N has attempted to shuffle the deck of cards, bending them completely in half.

“Whoops,” he says sheepishly, holding up the mangled deck. “Was that… supposed to happen?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “No, N. No, it was not.”

“Got it! No bending the cards! I’m learning so much!”

You rub your temples, debating whether or not to just fake the results on the checklist. Corporate probably wouldn’t even notice, right?

You take one look at the mangled deck of cards in N’s hands and decide, for your own sanity, that it counts. Surely it does. He technically picked up the objects—just, well… creatively.

With a sigh, you grab the pen and check off “Test dexterity with small objects” on the list. “Yep, good enough,” you mutter.

N brightens immediately, his grin stretching impossibly wide. “Really? I passed? Awesome! What’s next?”

You glance down at the checklist, already dreading the answer. “3. Evaluate response time to basic commands.”

“Alright,” you say, stepping back. “This one should be easy. I’m going to give you some commands, and you just do them as quickly as you can. Got it?”

N salutes again, nearly clipping the lamp beside him. “Yes, boss! Ready when you are!”

You suppress a groan. “Okay, first: spin in a circle.”

N immediately whirls around like a top, a blur of black blazer and neon-white eyes. When he stops, he looks at you eagerly, swaying slightly from the momentum. “How was that?”

“Fine,” you say, marking it off. “Next: touch your toes.”

He bends over with all the flexibility of a coiled spring, his hand tapping the tips of his shoes with an audible clink.

“Alright,” you say, scribbling another check. “Jump.”

N crouches low before springing up with enough force to graze the ceiling. You wince at the faint thunk of his head making contact with the drywall, leaving a very noticeable dent.

“Oh no,” he says, holding his head and looking up at the damage. “Is your house okay?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, N. My house is fine,” you say dryly, though you mentally add ‘Except for the ceiling.’ You hastily mark off the test anyway, feeling your patience rapidly wearing thin.

N peers over your shoulder, his glowing eyes scanning the checklist. “What’s next? Ooooh, ‘Test vocal capabilities’? I’m great at that! Want me to sing? Or recite poetry? Oh! I could try impressions!”

“Please don’t,” you say quickly, the thought of hearing his impression of anything filling you with dread. “Let’s just… move on.”

N straightens up, ready for whatever comes next, while you glance at the remaining items on the list and hope it’s nothing that will result in more property damage—or stress eating the rest of your pizza later.

You scan the checklist again, bracing for whatever fresh nonsense JCJenson thought would be “standard testing protocol.” Your eyes land on the next item: “Assess problem-solving abilities.”

Well, that could mean just about anything. At this point, you figure it might be safest to give him something simple to do.

“Alright, N,” you say, closing the clipboard and setting it down. “Let’s see how good you are at problem-solving. I’m going to… uh…” You glance around the room, searching for inspiration, until your eyes land on the messy coffee table cluttered with books, remotes, and old takeout containers. “…get that table organized. Make it neat. Put everything where it belongs.”

N lights up like a Christmas tree, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’m on it!”

You lean back against the wall, arms crossed, fully expecting chaos. Instead, something remarkable happens.

N approaches the table with an air of focus you didn’t know he was capable of. He picks up a remote and sets it in a neat line alongside the others. Then, he arranges the books into a tidy stack by size, even adjusting their alignment to be perfectly straight. The takeout containers are next; he gathers them carefully, one by one, carrying them to the kitchen. When he returns, he wipes the table down with a precision that could rival a cleaning professional.

In less than five minutes, the table is spotless, the chaos replaced with perfect order.

You blink, genuinely stunned. “…Huh. That was actually—”

“Efficient?” N finishes for you, beaming proudly. “I know! I’ve always liked organizing stuff.  My last boss never let me do it because they said it was boring and not worth their time, but I think it’s fun!”

For a moment, you’re speechless. Then, you nod slowly. “Yeah, uh… great job, N. You’re… surprisingly good at that.”

He practically glows under the praise, his grin widening. “Thanks! What’s next? I’m ready for anything!”

You’re not sure if that’s reassuring or terrifying. But at least, for now, you’ve learned one valuable thing: N might be a chaotic mess at most tasks, but give him an organizational challenge, and he’s a downright savant.

You skim the checklist again, muttering under your breath as you look for something manageable. Your eyes land on “Evaluate manual responsiveness.”

“Alright, N,” you say, tossing the clipboard onto the counter. “This one’s simple. I’m going to… uh…” You look around for something to test him with. Your gaze settles on a loose cabinet door in the kitchen, its hinge barely hanging on. Perfect.

“We’ll fix this cabinet. You can hold the door steady while I reattach the hinge.”

N salutes with enthusiasm. “On it, boss!”

You grab a screwdriver and some spare screws from the junk drawer, kneeling in front of the cabinet. N crouches beside you, carefully holding the door in place as instructed.

“This’ll only take a second,” you mumble, lining up the first screw. You apply pressure to drive it in, but the screwdriver slips.

The sharp tip grazes your palm, and you hiss in pain, pulling your hand back to see a small but deep scratch already welling up with blood.

“Ah, great,” you mutter, clutching your hand. “That’s just—”

“Wait! Hold on!” N interrupts, his usual cheer replaced with an uncharacteristic note of urgency. “You’re hurt!”

Before you can even react, N springs into action. He gently takes your injured hand in his own, his grip steady but impossibly soft for someone with metal fingers. His glowing eyes focus on the wound with surprising seriousness.

“Uh, it’s fine, N,” you start to say, but he doesn’t listen.

“Don’t move!” he says, sounding uncharacteristically firm. “I’ll fix it!”

To your astonishment, he grabs a clean dish towel from the counter and carefully dabs at the blood, his movements meticulous and precise. He then folds the towel into a makeshift bandage, wrapping it snugly around your hand and securing it with a small knot.

“There!” N says, his usual brightness returning as he beams at you. “Good as new! Well, not really. I mean, you’re not new, but you’re good!”

You stare at your hand, the impromptu bandage shockingly well-done. “…Huh. Not bad, N. Thanks.”

His eyes glow a little brighter at the praise, and he tilts his head. “It’s my job to help! Are you okay now? Does it hurt? Do you want me to carry you to a human repair station?!”

You can’t help but snort at that. “No, N, I’ll live. But… you handled that really well. Good job.”

N practically bounces in place, his happiness radiating off him. “Yay! I’m glad I could help! What’s next? Or do you need a break? I could bring you something to drink—oh, or your armchair! Want me to carry it in here?”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “Calm down, hero. Let’s just finish this cabinet first.”

“Okay!” N chirps, eagerly holding the door steady again. As you cautiously return to the task, you can’t help but feel a tiny flicker of gratitude for your unlikely, overly enthusiastic helper.

With N’s help, the cabinet door is repaired without further incident. You tighten the last screw, testing the hinge with a cautious tug. It holds firmly.

“Well, that’s done,” you say, leaning back on your heels. “Good work, N. You’re surprisingly handy for a…” You pause, realizing you don’t have a tactful way to finish that sentence.

“For a robot?” N supplies cheerfully, tilting his head.

You shrug. “Yeah, sure. For a robot.”

N beams at the praise, his glowing eyes practically sparkling. “Thank you! Helping is what I do best!”

As you put the screwdriver back in the drawer, you glance at the checklist still sitting on the counter. One last task: “Evaluate general reliability and cooperation.”

You smirk. “Guess that’s an easy one. You haven’t burned the place down, so I’d call you reliable enough.”

“Yay! Passing grade!” N pumps a fist in the air, spinning in place like a child celebrating an A+ on their homework.

You chuckle despite yourself, shaking your head. “Alright, buddy. That’s it for the company-mandated nonsense. You’re off the hook.”

N stops spinning, looking at you curiously. “Does that mean I’m done helping?”

“Not unless you want to be,” you say with a shrug, surprising even yourself with the answer. “But for now, take a break or… whatever it is you do when you’re not working.”

N claps his hands together, his excitement barely contained. “I can do that! But if you need anything—anything at all—just let me know, okay?”

You nod, watching as he flits around the room, clearly unable to sit still even if he wanted to. Despite the earlier chaos, you can’t help but admit that having him around isn’t… terrible.

It’s weirdly nice, you think, settling into your armchair. The place feels a little less quiet with him here.

For the first time in a while, you let yourself relax, feeling a faint warmth toward your odd, overly helpful houseguest.

As you settle into your armchair, your gaze shifts to N, who stands in the middle of the room, his posture relaxed but slightly uncertain. He glances around, hands clasped behind his back, as though waiting for instructions or permission to do something. His eyes glow softly, scanning the room for any task he could take on.

You sigh, feeling a pang of something between guilt and annoyance. He’s been nothing but helpful, but now he looks… aimless. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself if he’s not actively working.

Pushing yourself out of the chair, you stride toward the bookshelf tucked into the corner of the room. Your fingers brush over a few dusty spines before pulling out an old favorite. It’s nothing too complex—an adventure novel with a solid mix of humor and drama. You glance at it, then at N, before making up your mind.

“Hey, N.”

He turns immediately, his eyes brightening. “Yes? What do you need?”

“Here.” You hold the book out toward him. “Figured you might want something to do.”

N steps closer, looking between you and the book. He reaches out, taking it with care, his metal fingers surprisingly gentle against the worn cover. “You’re… giving this to me?”

“You can borrow it,” you clarify, leaning back against the bookshelf. “It’s a good read. Figured you might enjoy it.”

N looks down at the book, running a thumb lightly over the textured surface. “Humans really do the most fascinating things. I’d love to give it a try.”

“Go ahead,” you say, gesturing to the couch. “Just, uh, don’t tear any pages. And don’t—actually, just be careful with it.”

He smiles, a small but genuine expression. “I will. Thank you.”

N moves to the couch, sitting with an air of quiet confidence. He flips the book open, his fingers deftly turning the pages as his glowing eyes scan the text. There’s no hesitation in his movements—just a steady rhythm as he dives into the story.

After a few moments of silence, he speaks, his tone thoughtful. “Books are interesting. They’re like… worlds you can hold in your hands.”

You blink, a little surprised at the insight. “Yeah. Guess that’s one way to put it.”

“It’s… nice,” he continues, his voice soft. “I think I like this. Thank you for trusting me with it.”

You nod, a faint warmth spreading in your chest. “Don’t mention it. It’s just a book.”

“It’s more than that,” he replies without looking up, completely immersed.

You watch him for a moment longer, then return to your chair, a strange sense of ease settling over the room. N isn’t just quiet—he’s composed, thoughtful in a way that makes his presence feel less like an intrusion and more like… something you don’t mind having around.

The soft rustle of pages fills the air as you relax back into your seat. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[fandom-nursery]

Hello! Can you write headcanons about little!Anxiety from Inside Out 2 please?

I really wanted to be able to do this one and I finally was able to go and see inside out 2! I enjoyed it a lot. I hope you like these

Has a somewhat unpredictable age range. Tends to have a hard time distinguishing what age she’s regressed to

She also finds it pretty stressful to try and figure out what age she is so that she can regress “correctly” (use what she considers to be the right little gear for that age, participate in the correct activities, accept the correct amount of help, etc.)  for whatever age she is feeling 

Joy has helped her a lot with combating the idea that there is a correct way to regress and the idea that she could somehow be doing it wrong 

Because of that help she has gotten much more comfortable with not knowing her exact age range and with doing things that feel good and make her happy instead of fixating on arbitrary rules of how she should behave 

Her regression is usually involuntary and due to stress although she has been working on taking breaks to regress voluntarily so that she doesn’t get too overwhelmed 

She struggles a lot with feeling like her regression interferes with her ability to help Riley since she isn't really able or allowed to use the console while small but everyone is quick to remind her that taking care of herself does end up helping Riley at the end of the day

Responds to getting overwhelmed or panicked with tears more often when little. Sadness is a huge supporter of this because she understands the importance of letting yourself cry better than anyone 

Does occasionally go nonverbal which stressed her out a lot because she was worried it would make it impossible to communicate with the others if she needed something. It was fears idea to give her communication cards and Joys idea for them to all try and learn a little sign language 

Takes a lot of naps when regressed. She isn't allowed to have caffeine when small and has an easier time falling asleep when shes little than she does when she’s big 

Loves to make pillow forts and blankets nests. Being wrapped up in blankets makes her feel very safe. He has a weighted blanket that she always keeps either around her shoulders or within arms reach while small 

Really loves lavender scented items 

Has an absolutely massive collection of fidget toys that she cycles through 

She has a detailed schedule set for when she’s regressed and everyone in headquarters does their very best to follow it. Knowing what’s coming next helps manage her anxiety a lot 

Really loves to stay up and watch Riley's dreams at night 

Everyone at headquarters knows about her regression and they have all been very supportive 

Joy naturally takes the lead when it comes to taking care of little Anxiety but quickly found out that everyone had different things they could bring to the table when it came to watching over their regressed friend