#Messengers Incorporated

[mixamorphosis]

Blog post and linked up tracklist [HERE]

Minnie Riperton - Minnie's Lament

Willie Hutch - A Love That's Worth Having

Gloria Ann Taylor - World That's Not Real

Eunice Collins - At The Hotel

The Atomic Crocus - Ombilic Contact

Ike & Tina Turner - Come Together

Bill Withers - I Don't Want You On My Mind

Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass - This Guy's In Love With You

Marvin Gaye - Is Anybody Thinking About Their Living?

Gloria Jones - Tin Can People

Mike James Kirkland - Doin' It Right

Idris Muhammad - Loran's Dance

Wendell Harrison - Peace Of Mind

George Benson - Lady

Curtis Mayfield - Underground

Air - Martin

Eddie Hazel - California Dreamin'

Messengers Incorporated - Frequency Response

Rikki Ililonga - Shebeen Queen

Cherubin - Sunrise

Download available via [Hearthis]

[ravencromwell]

Ros Vortalis trans headcanons

There are some remarkable trans Holland fics and headcanons, but can we talk about Ros Vortalis, whom all of his friends simply call Vor? Who, even when he’s _dying Holland calls Vor, to be expected, but also Vortalis which’s so much longer than Ros.

A bit of googling informs me Ros is “protector” in German, which’s chef’s kiss one hundred/ten no notes V.E. But it’s also, more frequently, a diminutive of Rosalind. Disclaimer before I start these that I respect and love! the headcanons of Makt as fairly gender nonrestrictive, with power being more of a defining factor of treatment. My Makt, however, is more complicated, with gender and gender transitions being imperfect but still a site where joy can be created, much like the rest of White London existence. Putting the rest of these beneath a cut with that in mind because as a trans person, I know some days I can’t handle transness as careful complication to be navigated and don’t want to inflict it on anyone unprepared. (Though, I promise! there’re fluffy as fuck nsfw Vor/Holland and Vor/friends headcanons in here to cut the angst.)

Ros retains a shortened form of his given namefor business purposes within the Shal—we know Shal means “market” in Red London, and I tend to think it means the same in White, such that when Holland calls him a “thug from the Shal” he’s referring to Vor being in the merchant/smuggling business. When he transitions, he’s relatively young and honestly to flagrantly demand a name change would be seen by too many as blood in the water. His greatest focus, always, is Makt rather than his personal happiness and he’d rather be burdened with the “nickname” Ros and be capable of rising in the Shal in service of becoming king.

There’re two ways of transitioning: the easiest and least painful is utilizing a spell similar to Astrid’s with Lila and stealing a face and voice. But that spell fades with death and though Vor understands that his body is likely destined for desecration once he’s gone as Makt’s people drain its blood and magic, there’s still this stubborn demand that they destroy a body without the face that made him shudder every time his child self caught a glimpse (he is so grateful for a lack of mirrors in Makt for much of his young adulthood.)

So he chooses the harder, excruciating method: finds a bone magician to permanently reshape his body. Session after session, over months traveling abroad on a ship with only the open sea and crew to hear him scream himself hoarse.

The first time they share a bed, Holland strokes along the broadened shoulders, runs fingers along the scars on his chest—eyes fixed on Vor’s all the while— and murmurs: “If they did not believe you would hold the throne, they were fools.”

“I’m flattered.” He’s bright-eyed, with that deep, rolling-sea laugh.

“After this, very little would stop you.” Fools have marveled at the extent of spells across his body, and inwardly he howls in hysterical laughter because there is very little to dull pain in Makt, and the shipboard pain was so vast it made everything else feel like pinpricks by comparison. He’s never bedded someone who would know that as intimately as the man who had done his damndest to use that same magic in stopping Vor’s fist before it connected with his face, and the admiration uncoils something deep in his chest. “Sometimes I’m certain I can’t keep it. One moment it will be there and then not.” He manages a farse of a smile “Foolish, after all these decades, but such is the weakness of your future king, Holland.”

“Lucky you would have an Antari to put it back, then.”

By the time he returned to London, voice rumbling deep from an expanded chest, people understood quickly to use “Ros” with the proper pronouns or see just how effective the runes on his hands were. But well…Ros is an easier shirt than Rosalind to slip into, but it will never sit comfortably. As he develops allies, he finds that Vor and Vortalis fit easier. And it becomes a good gauge for trust. Those who understand implicitly how painful his given name is and respect that, are people worth keeping. It becomes easier, as fewer and fewer people survive who remember Rosalind.

There are far too many moments to count when former friends or lovers try to use “Ros” as a weapon, with a little smirk that says: “You never said we _couldn’t call you that.” And he’s deeply glad he made a relatively small name fuss and provided only a small chink in his armor. (Those sorts of people tend, inevitably, to cause the use of his knives. As though letting them close and showing kindness is an invitation for open season. But such are the risks in Makt, and he is a man who craves touch and closeness. What good to craft the ideal body only to never have it appreciated. The way Holland simply…withdrew from people after Talya is something almost unfathomable. Whether they’re the closest of friends or both king and night and! king and beloved—which’s pretty much always in my head—there’s a deep, profound ache that he could never touch Holland enough to make up for too many years alone.

It’s the dimmest flicker every time he sees the “knight” and “Antari” masks slip, when Holland leans against his shoulder or puts his head in Vor’s lap, eyes half-closing at fingers in his hair. But, simply because the task is nigh on impossible, doesn’t mean he won’t do his best. Vor touches Holland Vosijk a hundred thousand times in those two years of rule—and so, so many more if they both survive—and is so very, very grateful he could take the touches the best of his lovers and allies offered over the last thirty years. (On a slashy front, can we also just talk about how, as a couple, there’s an incomparable way arousal and awe intertwine for Vor _every time Holland reaches out and shows affection: a kiss against his temple as Vor lets their foreheads rest together; a hand moving slow and easy down his back. To be trusted enough for the most guarded man he’s ever met—it took Vor _months to convince him to kill Gorst and he’s never had to work so hard or wanted so desperately for someone to say yes in his life—to touch him is such a valuable thing that he has immense responsibility not to break.)

Also in couple’s verse: If Vor has a small regret, it’s that the bone magicians are far more skilled with outward, above-the-waist presentation—because the best of them have not only done this for trans people, but for criminals etc. seeking a disguise. Thankfully, they had no trouble cutting him open to ensure he would never be with child—he doesn’t have the vocabulary for dysphoria, but the idea of his stomach rounded and heavy is one of the few things that can make him viciously soul-deep terrified. But the below the waist equipment well, it’s not a magic Makt has the luxury of learning.

By the time he meets Holland, it’s the very faintest of regrets: he has a collection of strap-ons for when he and a lover want to indulge in that particular fantasy—and is comfortable enough in his skin it’s an indulgence and not a requirement. It’s beautiful to watch lovers slide to their knees and take them in their hands or mouths or slide inside and watch them arch with pleasure. But oh, oh he wishes he could _feel it. It’s not a complaint worth voicing, and honestly after he becomes king, there’s very little time to indulge.

But one day, Holland comes back, smelling of flowers holding a box, tells the guards to wait at the end of the hall because he has crucial business from “the other London” for the king’s ears alone, which has Vor intrigued and concerned because he hasn’t come close to asking Holand to send a message. But before the concern can swell to anything beyond a flicker, he sees a flush so faint anyone would miss it who wasn’t watching. (Even before the Danes, Holland held his feelings and desires in an iron grip; Vor learned early in sharing a bed that Holland loathed the idea of being heard by those not his lovers when losing control: not merely a discomfort that could add spice to an evening, but viscerally, the way it would take everything Vor had to turn his back on an armed opponent.) This is pleasure, not business and he flicks his fingers in a silent command before they can even turn to look.

"Go get yourselves some dinner,“ he says for good measure, "If there is a foe Holland cannot protect me from, there’s little more bodies can do.”

When he opens the box…there are the usual straps but the cock. The cock feels like _skin. “The Arnesians-” and oh, there’s still so much contempt in those words “With their infinite supply of magic have learned to transmute. From earth to bone, and then something softer. There is an illusion for the Arnesians who want to forget the straps.” There were layers upon layers beneath that statement: neither of them wished, at least then, to go begging for scraps, but to _take a little of the bounty Arnes had hoarded,

“_Yes!”

Neither of them know how the illusion works: it is as mysterious as the fireworks Holland has seen that fool his eyes into certainty dragons fly across the unbearably vivid Arnesian sky. It does not matter; in those moments when Holland’s mouth is hot on skin, Vor is utterly, entirely certain Holland is swallowing down the cock he has always had.

It’s almost too much, leaves him speechless for the first time in decades, has Holland scrambling up and onto the bed even as his eyes are still glassy from watching the king come undone to wrap himself around Vor’s back until the world comes into focus again. “Is it only good once or-” he asks, finally and Holland’s smirk is wicked.

When he’s upending the Ost table and coughing up blood—, so much, too much kajt I hope Holland can take the throne because whoever these bastards are they can’t rule, the thing he clings to: more than “Stay with me"—though he _tries—, more than the raw panic in Holland _swearing—is the name. _Vortalis, he says when the table overturns—though it would be such a forgivable mistake to use Ros. Vor, he says while chanting stay and one of his blood spells. He will die as who he made himself, not as he was born.

The three threads of coherence for Holland are the blood spell. That Vor _has to stay. And that if he cannot be enough to stop this, he _will not let Vor die hearing him use the wrong name.

In verses where Vor lives, they both know the "thank you” when he wakes is not for the healing, though to be alive is a joy.

[chaddicus]

see the longer I play with my understanding of my transmasc experience and dysphoria, the more I grapple with the conflict between mocking fragile masculinity for refusing to allow the use of 'feminine' things vs knowing more and more keenly how much dysphoria I would and do get whenever someone associates something I do or use or wear with femininity. and no amount of people insisting that using "feminine" things doesn't invalidate someone's gender, man or otherwise, seems to have any impact on that dysphoria

we do need to untangle cultural perceptions of masculine vs feminine and respect for a person's gender, manhood in particular in this discussion, but I almost feel like knowing that means it's my responsibility to refuse to engage with those ideas for my own gender — and the problem is that knowing this is not the common understanding means knowing that other people *will* associate my use of feminine things as some sort of contradiction with any masculinity I may wish to express or identify with, and no amount of understanding the concepts and holding the principles can erase the revulsion and pain and fear I feel at the thought of people associating me with some concept of womanhood that I adamantly *do not experience or identify with.* fuck.

[breelandwalker]

Witchcraft Exercise - Creating Correspondences

There are dozens of plant species in the arsenal of the green witch. Commonly-used varieties and usage varies somewhat between traditions, but most of us are fairly familiar with industry standards like basil, bay, rosemary, sage, and so on.

But what do you do when faced with a plant that has no listed magical correspondences anywhere that you can find in your witchcraft library? Simple - you create some.

Allow me to demonstrate with a little plant I found in my own backyard. It's a common weed called Virginia copperleaf (Acalypha virginica). But despite it's widespread range and abundant growth as a field weed, there are surprisingly few references to the plant in regional folk medicine and none at all that I could find in contemporary witchcraft.

So in order to incorporate this hardy little weed into my practice, I set about creating some correspondences for it.

First, I researched the physical properties of the plant. It is a small annual spurge with long taproots, a resistance to drought and many herbicides, and a reputation for fast growth and being difficult to eradicate from fields due to prolific seeding. The leaves turn coppery-red in the fall and small spiky flowers bloom among the foliage. It is also mildly poisonous. The juice of the plant may cause contact dermatitis or a mild rash in some people and if ingested, it may cause GI symptoms such as vomiting and diarrhea.

Next, I researched references to the plant in folk medicine. I could only find a single reference that cited copperleaf as a possible diuretic and expectorant. That does track with the previous mention of GI symptoms, but it doesn't mean the plant is safe to use. I did discover that an alternate name for the plant is three-seeded mercury or mercury weed, likely because of its' tendency for fast growth and the fact that it is propagated by the wind.

So now comes the business of creating the correspondences, using the physical properties of the plant as a basis.

The first and most obvious association is strength. Any weed that is resistant to drought and herbicide and uprooting is bound to be useful for spells involving tenacity and fortitude. Prosperity is also a likely use, both because of the name copperleaf and the way in which the plant grows and spreads quickly. Because of the alternate name mercury weed and the wind propagation, it could be used for wind magic or communication spells. (I often associate the element of air with communication and the name of a messenger god is right there as well, but your mileage may vary.)

The plant could also be used as an ingredient for baneful magic, either to bind and frustrate someone's efforts by consuming available ground where their ambitions might grow, or in its' capacity as a mild poison, to cause physical discomfort and stomach trouble.

So in the end, I have a handful of copperleaf and a listing in my witchbook that details the properties of the plant and notes that it could be useful for spells involving strength, tenacity, prosperity, wind, or communication, as well as possible baneful uses including binding, discomfort, and sickness.

This is my system for assigning correspondences to previously-unknown plants, and I encourage readers to use it as a template for their own practices or to create their own system. Either way, I recommend the use of a field guide or plant identification app like PlantNet to properly identify plants as you find them. Remember to forage and harvest responsibly, be a good steward of the land around you, and always label your plant cuttings.

Happy Witching! 💚🌿

(If you're enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. You can also check out my show Hex Positive wherever fine podcasts are heard. 😊)

More witchcraft exercises here:

[insipid-drivel]

What's the general range of endurance for a horse doing the job(s) it's good at? Like, how long can a racing breed sprint/gallop before you start risking injury? Can a Clydesdale pull a plow all day, or do you need to get as much done as you can in the morning? Etc.

It really depends on how intense the work is on the horse's body, as well as the size, age, and breed of the horse itself, and the rider's observations on when the horse is visibly showing signs of exhaustion. A lot of these calls are dependent upon the owner of the horse to make, because it is very possible to command a horse to work itself to death without even intending to. (I know, this isn't a very helpful answer, but it's very hard to answer questions like these with exact details since we're talking about animals and not machines)

Race horses are usually lightweight breeds like Thoroughbreds or Arabian Horses, and were never bred for doing Hard Farm Labor like pulling a plow or working like makeshift tractors on a farm, will often run until their hearts give out if their rider lets them or makes them, especially if the horse has been literally pent up with no opportunities to run around for themselves in a while, or is extremely stressed.

Race horses especially can get so enthusiastic about racing that they develop mental health issues if they don't get to run and gallop frequently. Healthy running horses, like messenger horses, could handle keeping an even pace on a well-maintained road for hundreds of miles, so long as the rider gave the horse opportunities to slow down, cool off, rehydrate (hydration is a big factor, because horses sweat the way people do, and can die of heatstroke or heat exhaustion like we can), and get at least a few hours of rest before continuing to travel. If the terrain is rougher than a well-maintained horse path, then a horse could struggle and tire much sooner, and may even need the rider to get off their backs and walk with them until they hit easier terrain to avoid injury/overtiring the animal.

A Clydesdale or Shire Horse, which are in the family known as Draft Horses, are better at very strength-demanding, slow work (think cardio vs. weight training in humans; professional weight lifters have very different physiques, skill sets, and exercise/diet needs compared to a competitive sprinter), like pulling a plow, and it was often left up to the handler of the horse to judge when their horses are starting to get too tired and need a break. Horses pant, sweat, and generally show a lot of the same symptoms humans do when they're overheated and risking heat exhaustion or stress-based exhaustion. Horses that are given more rest-times tend to stay working longer in their lives than horses that are consistently overworked; again, like professional athletes. Professional athletes retire very young because of the intensity of their athletic life aging their bodies prematurely and making them more vulnerable to injury. The same applies to horses.

For pasture that's already been tilled and cleared of obstacles like buried rocks in the past, a working horse could probably do most of the morning/afternoon pulling a plow through "easy" soil and terrain as long as it's not too hot out (heat is a major cause of stress-related death in work horses), receive break-times to drink water and cool down, regular hoof checks (a sharp object penetrating a horse's foot can very easily result in a horse's death, so a major part of horse care is keeping their hooves clean). However, most farms that could afford draft horses instead of oxen would often own multiple to switch out when one or more of their horses got too tired during the day. Oxen were often the bulldozers-of-choice around most farms for such intense work like plowing rough soil (eg soil will a lot of stones in the way or a ton of clay), and generally did the jobs better than horses at a much lower cost per ox. Draft horses were incorporated into a lot of farming during the Victorian Era in particular as a sign of wealth and affluence on a farm, rather than actually employing the best animal for the job they needed to do. Oxen still tend to be better at a lot of farming-related work, but the horse breeding industry very much pushed the ox-training industry nearly to into extinction in the West.

Seeing draft horses doing the work that oxen used to do is more a product of showing off your wealth as a farmer than actually having the ideal animal for the job that needs doing, and so class perception and classism plays a large part in where and when you see horses doing the jobs that heartier animals like oxen are better suited for. Historically, a lot of farmers would sacrifice the utility and durability of oxen for the flashiness of draft horses, just like how today you'll find more specialized farming equipment on wealthier farms vs. cheaper, still-good-at-what-it-does-but-not-having-a-popular-brand-name equipment you'd find on a family farm.

So... realizing this reply is running incredibly long, the answer is: It depends on the setting, situation, the horse(s), and the care and responsibility of the owner/handler in addressing symptoms of exhaustion in the animal(s). On a cool, breezy day, a draft horse could work most of the morning and part of the afternoon, especially if the work they're being asked to do is fairly low-impact for them (again, depending on the job you're asking it to do and whether it's just one animal or multiple, how quickly a horse becomes exhausted is heavily influenced by outside factors), but may overheat and need to stop by mid-morning on a really hot, sunny day. That's the tricky thing about working with animals: They don't come with exact guarantees for how much mileage or power they can put out every day, and are vulnerable to health and environmental factors when it comes to how hard they can work and how long.

[astra-ravana]

Augury: Bird Divination

Augury, also called ornithomancy, is the practice of reading birds and their behavior to divinate the past, present, and future. It is one of the oldest forms of divination, having been practiced by the ancient Greeks, Romans, and Egyptians, as well as the Celts and Native Americans alike. The reader in this case is referred to as the "augur", and reading the birds is often called "taking the auspices".

Birds are universally seen as messengers and sometimes, as psychopomps, connecting us to the other side and the divine. Augury incorporates the type of bird, the number of birds, as well as their flight patterns and behavior. One can gain powerful insight by incorporating this divination into their practice. Here's the interpretations for general types of bird, some basic movements, and more.

Bird type symbolism:

• Blue jay - Truth, communication, playful, high energy, loud

• Cardinal - Hope, joy, ancestors, loved ones, passion, warmth

• Crow - Magick, witches, transformation, power, omens, intelligence, mystery

• Dove - Peace, tranquility, love, connection, safety

• Duck - Friendship, good fortune, protection from negative energy

• Eagle - Power, leadership, freedom, manifestation, opportunity, adventure

• Falcon - Navigation, taking chances, travel, cooperation, courage, vigilance

• Goose - Love, partnership, home, protection, family

• Hawk - Spirit guides, bravery, awareness, intuition, instinct, higher perspective

• Heron - Strength, purity, longevity, knowledge, good judgment, transcendence, patience

• Hummingbird - The Fae, creativity, bliss, love, beauty, speed, rest is needed

• Kestrel - Consideration, stability, vitality, opportunities

• Owl - The gods, wisdom intuition, spiritual exploration, the unknown, observation, intelligence

• Raven - Mystery, magick, the Fae, knowledge, mischief, death

• Robin - Luck, prosperity, fertility, new beginnings, good things, rewards

• Sparrow - New love, relationships, team work, productivity

• Starling - Communication, adaptability, community, fun, freedom

• Stork - Longevity, fertility, new life, prosperity, wisdom, luck

• Swan - Grace, beauty, music, poetry, creativity, loyalty, partnership

• Vulture - Renewal, perception, creativity, death, patience

• Woodpecker - Hard work, advantage attention, progress, determination

Movement

Directions:

• Towards – Reception

• Away – Depletion

Crossing your path:

• An bird crossing your paths means boundaries.

• Crossing from left to right – Minor achievement

• Crossing from right to left – Minor obstacle

Diagonal:

• A movement diagonally means transformation.

• Lower right to upper left diagonal – Weak obstacle

• Lower left to upper right diagonal – Weak achievement

• Upper right to lower left diagonal – Major obstacle

• Upper left to lower right diagonal – Major achievement

Stationary:

• Stationary means foundation.

• Stationary front – Stability

• Stationary back – Stagnation

• Stationary left – Separation

• Stationary right – Unification

Rotation:

• Clockwise – Major completion

• Counterclockwise – Minor completion

Sides:

• Left - Bad

• Right - Good

Number of Birds:

• 1 - The self, beginnings, manifestation, physical action

• 2 - Security, partnership, balance, duality

• 3 - Adventure, communication, trinity, raising consciousness, strength

• 4 - Wisdom, stability, home, protection

• 5 - Change, creativity, romance, humor and drama

• 6 - Peace, self-love, equilibrium, health

• 7 - Psychic ability, intuition, spiritual awakening, soul mates

• 8 - Transformation, finances, infinite possibility, struggle/delay

• 9 - Lessons, education, courage, pioneering energy

• 10 - Completion, higher powers, alignment, legacy

• 11 - Good luck, wishes granted, new friends, joy

• 12 - Introspection, other realms, the dead, the shadow

Finding feathers:

• Gray – A time of peace is arriving

• White – Focus on your spirituality

• Black – You are protected

• Brown – Strength and courage

• Red – Find and use your spiritual gifts

• Orange – You will be successful

• Yellow – You are on the right path

• Green – Healing is coming

• Blue – Use your voice

• Purple – Expand your psychic abilities

• Pink – Love, romance, or pregnancy

• Striped – Change will happen soon

• Spotted – Release the past

[whencyclopedia]

Angels in Ancient Judaism

The concept and function of angels in ancient Judaism were some of the many elements incorporated from contemporary cultures and religious views. The Hebrew malakh was translated into the Greek angelos, both of which indicated not their nature, but their function as "one who is sent" or "a messenger." Angels were a form of divination or the way gods communicated their will to humans.

The Seraphim Mosaic

Hagia Sophia Research Team (CC BY-NC-SA)

The Ancient View of the World

All ancient peoples perceived their world as a three-tiered structure of the universe:

Heavens – the upper domain of the gods. There was often a "king of the gods", who ruled over lower and subservient gradients of divinity. The lowest level of divine beings were the daemons (Greek for "attendant"), who, over time, as "demons" became responsible for evil and what went wrong in life.

Earth – the domain of animals and humans. The lower divinities were assigned responsibility for specific areas of human culture such as agriculture, craftsmanship, and war. Gods and lesser divinities could possess humans, with the ability to speak in their name. These oracles were both a person and a place.

Underworld – the land of the dead. Originally the place for all the dead, ideas were eventually expanded to describe separate places for the righteous and wicked dead. Gods and lesser divinities were the only ones who could visit the land of the dead and return.

A shared cultural concept of all ancient religions was the experience of divine encounters with the gods and the lesser divinities. Dreams or visions, such encounters were also described as epiphanies, manifestations of the divine on earth.

Continue reading...

[nethhiri]

Chapter 57: A Vegetable Peeler, a Peach Pit, and a Fish Walk Into a Bar

Warnings: Violence, torture, gore, body horror, sex

Killer and Heat, well, everyone except Kid really, was starting to become concerned. Kid thought everything was fine with you based on the bits of conversation he could remember. You had been in the dungeon for days now. The only way they knew you were still alive down there was that they could hear you laughing or taunting as they walked by. You had come out briefly to ask a cabin boy to fetch you a vegetable peeler, a peach pit, and a fish, live preferably. No one could be sure whether that was more assuring or less assuring that you were fine. Even when people heard you talking, they weren't sure if you were talking to the prisoners or yourself. 

Heat was the most worried. Maybe if he hadn't told you and Killer had been able to break it to you gently, this wouldn't have happened. The pain that took over your features when he had told you haunted him. He knew you were upset with Kid and Killer and probably wouldn't listen to either of them right now. Heat thought he probably wasn't on your bad side even if he was the messenger. Wire also wasn't on your bad side, but you had less of a relationship with him. Incorporating all of that, Heat knew he had to be the one to check on you. 

The vegetable peeler was, of course, for skinning all their dicks. If you thought peeling carrots was relaxing, try peeling the dicks of your enemies, absolutely refreshing. The best part was that you could do it as many times as you wanted. You were giggling, going up and down the line of marines, skinning and reskinning their dicks. Warthin got special treatment. Not only did he get his dick skinned, but he also got a salt handjob, or maybe it counted as exfoliation. Not the first time you had a man screaming with his dick in your hand, maybe the first time they begged you to stop, however. Why stop at the skin? For him, you continued to peel until there was nothing left. It didn't work so well when you got to the softer meat, so you basically just mangled it to the best of your ability.

You replaced it at the end. You weren't a monster. No, not yet. But you had impending plans to become one. 

Of the marines you had accidentally permanently fucked up, you collected their cocks in a fucked up floppy bouquet. This was then shoved into Warthin's mouth, which was then sealed as tightly as the door to the dungeon, so he could either eat them or choke on them. Lucky for him, they were small. You had no preference. He needed to stay suffering while you turned your attention elsewhere. 

The peach pit bounced up and down in your hand. Your mother had never told you not to eat watermelon seeds or a watermelon would grow inside you, because you didn't have a mother. Still, the thought of seeds sprouting within someone did cross your mind. You thought about forcing one of the prisoners to swallow the pit, though stomach acid wasn't a great environment for things to grow. It probably didn't matter with your devil fruit regardless. Instead, you made a small incision with a scalpel in the abdomen of one of the kind of already fucked up prisoners. You needed to keep the less fucked up ones for later since they had a part to play in Warthin's misery. You shoved your fingers into the cut, bluntly dissecting through subcutaneous fat and fascia by making a spreading motion with them. With the feeling of tearing through flesh and your hand buried past your knuckles, you were satisfied. Then you placed the peach pit deep within the man and sat back. 

It was like you were watching a time-lapse video transponder snail. You used your power to manipulate the seed to grow. Through the incision, a bright golden light was visible. The path of least resistance was the bore hole you made through the abdomen, hence it was the first place that green tendrils started to erupt. Soon, worm-like forms began crawling under the skin of the marine. Even though he was a little fucked in the head from your fusion experiments, he still felt pain and he still cried out, branches sprouting from his open maw. Roots erupted from his skin and dove back in, sensing no viable growing media save for the body. The green tendrils took on a brown, woody texture as they matured and bright green leaves turned a deep emerald. You held your breath, waiting for something very specific to happen. The entire process up to this point was relatively fast, compared to the growth of a normal tree, about an hour. You wondered if you could make it happen any faster. The blooming of a flower interrupted your thought process, capturing your attention until a green, then yellow, then orange-red fruit developed. Before it could rot, you snatched it from the branch it was on and took a bite. You imagined it to taste like the sweetest, juiciest fruit you had ever eaten, but it tasted like shit, probably the fault of the growth medium. You tossed it to Minerva, who practically swallowed it whole. You left the human peach tree as is for now. It was possibly a useful trick to save for later, though not very exciting. It seemed cooler in your head.

Now for the fish, it wasn't alive, as you had asked. It was fresh enough for your purposes you supposed. You sliced the gills out of it and took those to the other fucked up prisoner. You didn't need the guy to be responsive, you only need to see if he lived or died. With your devil fruit, it was child's play to fuse the gills to his neck. That wasn't enough. You had to apply your knowledge of gas exchange and create an adjacent capillary system, akin to that of the human lung, near the gills so the oxygen molecules pulled from the water by the gills had somewhere to go and blood to oxygenate. Now, you were unsure if the man could consciously control where he breathed from so you had plans to take that into your own hands, but you didn't do it yet because he still needed to breathe air for a few more minutes. 

You unchained him from the wall and pulled him with you by a lead, handing it over to Mini. You were too honed in on your experiments to give a shit about who was on deck. You had been off in another world for the past few days, though you thought it had only been one at most. Unsealing the door, Mini followed you onto the deck. You squinted as the sun burned your eye. Everything was too bright. After a few minutes, your vision was adjusted enough, yet still uncomfortable. The man was positioned next to the banister as you cut off his air supply, forcing flesh to cover his mouth and nostrils. He scratched at his throat almost immediately and you pushed him overboard, still attached with a chain around his neck. You peered over the edge, watching him squirm and struggle. You thought it had failed until you saw him tread water.

There were others around you trying to see what you were doing. Killer specifically, staring at the vegetable peeler tucked into your belt with the dried blood and bits attached to it. You motioned at Mini to pull him up after a few more minutes. The boar walked backwards until he was close enough to the railing for you to pull him over. You intended to put his orifices back where they belonged but once he was on the deck, you decided to liked watching him suffocate more. He flopped around like the fish he was, clawing at his mouth and nose, trying to make an opening. So he has some brain function left. You pulled a blade from your belt that you had previously stored there and grabbed his hand, putting the handle in it and curling his fingers around it. There was no stopping the sick laughter as you watched him stab himself in the face, desperately trying to relieve the lack of air. Not enough it seems. The stabbing motions slowed as blood covered his face and seeped into the deck. You couldn't even see his face through the blood. 

Heat knew that Kid and Killer were startled by your appearance because he was startled by your appearance. Confirming his thought that you hadn't been taking care of yourself properly, you were still in the same clothes that you had been in a few days prior and you were completely encrusted in gore. There were deep purple-gray circles under your eyes and the one that had been reintroduced to your skull was bloodshot. The braids that were in your hair were still there, but pieces of your hair were falling out of them and they were unkempt, littered with pieces of what were surely people. Heat knew you weren't eating or drinking either. Your lips were chapped and you looked haggard. There were cuts on your hands from being careless with blades, too. Heat watched you leave the deck with Minerva dragging your experiment behind you. He glanced at Killer before following you. Kid wasn't around. He had been boarded up in his workshop, determined to finish your eye so that you would forgive them for keeping the other a secret. 

You were about to close the door to the dungeon when Heat put his hand out to stop it and let himself in. You acknowledged him with a glance, but went back to your projects. Warthin was barely holding on to consciousness after choking for the past few hours on cocks, and probably his own vomit. You didn't put his mouth back, only slit the skin where it should be with a blade. 

Heat's eyes wandered around the room. He had never seen it like this. There were body parts lying around and the smell was putrid. His breath caught when he noticed the extra appendages on some of the prisoners and the actual living tree embedded in a person. That made what he was about to do even more difficult. He did not want to be on your bad side. He had to do it though. He had just watched you cut a hole in Warthin's face and lick the blade clean. It didn't even seem like you knew you were doing it. Then he watched Warthin spit out a few disembodied penises, and he realized he had to talk to you before he was too intimidated to do so. 

"Y/N... I think it's time to take a break." 

You didn't say anything but you did blankly gaze in his direction before going back to what you were doing. 

Heat put his hand on your shoulder. "Y/N."

You shrugged his hand away. "Fuck off." It didn't sound like it had malice behind it, even if you meant for it to. It only sounded tired. 

Heat grabbed your shoulder and turned you forcefully to face him. "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you, as your commanding officer, that you're going to take a break."

Your eyebrows furrowed, as if you could not comprehend Heat telling you 'no'. Heat was not a pushover by any means, however, he rarely used the authority he had, especially when it came to you. Or maybe it only seemed that way because the other three were always bossing people around left and right. It was so unusual that all you could do was nod in your confusion.

Heat steered you out of the room and waited for Mini to exit before locking the door, which he realized wouldn't keep you out but it did make a statement. "Go clean up, have a hot meal, and sleep. If I have to tell you again, I'll put you in the seastone manacles until you stop being insubordinate. We clear?"

You nodded again.

"Good." Heat watched you warily as you went to do as you were told, for once. He added, softly, "And show your face to Kid and Killer. They're worried about you, too." 

You half turned so that you could see him. "The only thing Kid is worried about is when he gets his dick wet." 

Heat didn't understand what you were talking about. After he made sure you left, he went to see Kid in his workshop. Heat needed to tell him how bad off you were. Kid was diligently welding something, a giant magnifying glass positioned in front of his face so he could see the very tiny, fine details. 

"Boss."

"Aye, Heat. Come in." 

"It's fucked up down there."

"Heat, I don't give a damn how ya mangled yer cock this time," Kid said without looking up.

"The dungeon, asshole."

"My girl is enjoying herself, is she?" Kid had a grin on his face imagining your evil little laugh and how cute you were when you were being ruthless. 

"Boss, I don't think you're taking this seriously enough."

"What are ya talkin about? I just talked to her the other day and she was fine." Kid held up a small sphere. "When I finish this, she's gonna be good as new." 

"It's not that simple. And really? Because she seemed mad at you." Heat remembered earlier in the week when Kid stumbled past him in the hallway. "By any chance, were you drunk when you talked to her?"

"So what?"

"There's no chance you might have said something to piss her off?" 

Kid paused to think. "Everything I say pisses her off. S'why she lo- likes me." When Heat glowered at him, he continued. "I was waitin in the infirmary to see if she wanted to spend time with her dear captain and she got all boo-hoo-y about me an' Killer not likin her if she was blind and I said ya still got a pussy don't ya? That's all."

"For fuck's sake, Kid." 

"What?!"

"Why would you say that?"

"I was tryna make her feel better. She was killin my boner." 

Now your comment made sense to Heat. "So you basically told her that she had value to you as long as she could still fuck you." 

"No! I haven't even touched her! Killer's been subbing in, wearing her panties. It's not the same but I've been trying!" He said the last part somewhat to himself. "I've been snuggling her and being supportive and all that shit."

Heat's brain sizzled at the thought of Killer in your underwear, but he pushed those fantasies from his mind. Heat explained what you had said to him the night you confronted them. He didn't know that he had been the only one you fully confided in. If Kid didn't know your feelings and fears, how did he know to avoid them? Heat seemed to keep getting stuck in the middle of your failed communications. 

Kid was filled with remorse. He was so happy that you were back with them and that you were recovering, that he didn't delve any further than the surface. He wanted to go back to how things were before so badly that he didn't want to talk about what happened to you, for fear that talking about it would make it linger somehow. It made him uncomfortable and he wanted it to pass expeditiously. Kid was great at talking, not so much communicating, and not when it came to emotional subjects. He was afraid that he would fuck up, and he still fucked up. Kid was being himself, thinking you would find it as endearing as you normally would, without considering how your perception might have changed. 

______________________________________________________________

Heat was right. You needed to take care of yourself. After taking a piping hot shower and getting food into you, the lack of sleep caught up with you. Your body was heavy and dragging it to bed was a chore. Sleep evaded you when you laid down to rest at your bunk in the women's quarters. You couldn't stop thinking about this hollow feeling in your heart. You hadn't talked to Killer or Kid in days and the last time you talk to either led to grief. Still, you missed them. There were things left unsaid and unresolved. You needed time to think about your feelings and how you were going to express them in a way where you wouldn't get pissed. Following several tosses and turns, you gave up. Not yet ready to talk to Killer, you decided to take Quincy up on her offer. 

"Hey, Quince, are you in here?" 

"She's not, but I am," Emma sleepily replied. She must have been napping for her night watch later.

"Oh."

"Do you... wanna talk?" Emma added, "No one else is here."

You were hesitant at first but it all came tumbling out. You explained why you were angry with Killer and that you didn't know how to talk to him about it. This was the first time you had ever been in a semblance of a relationship and you didn't know how these things were supposed to go. 

"I think you're justified in being angry, but I also know that our first mate isn't an idiot like our captain. Killer never does things without a good reason. I also know that he takes his own shortcomings very hard, and that he is probably feeling terribly for upsetting you." Emma thought and added, "I say you just go talk to him now. There's no point in waiting."

"Are you sure? I still don't know what to say."

"Same thing you told me."

You swung your legs over the side of your bunk and decided to take Emma's advice. Walking quickly so you couldn't change your mind, you headed towards Killer's cabin.

Killer couldn't be angry when he saw his kitchen marred with bloody fingerprints, nor could he angry when he saw his desecrated vegetable peeler. He deserved it. He was upset with himself for taking things into his own hands instead of talking to you. After all, who was he to decide what was best for you? Why did having feelings complicate things so much? Everything seemed easier when you argued and fought with them. He tried not to think about if you would forgive him or not. He was too afraid of the answer. 

Killer was bringing his shirt over his head, about to clean up for bed, when he heard a timid knock at his door. 

It wasn't fair. Your plan was immediately thrown into the air by your brain. Why did he have to open the door like that? Killer stood in the doorframe, no shirt on, pants unbuttoned, with a full view of the barely-visible blond hairs that ran from the bottom of his belly button to the top of... your panties? No, you must be mistaken. 

Killer wasn't expecting you, not in the least. 

"Can we talk?" You asked.

Killer moved into his room, unblocking the doorway so you could come in. 

It was awkward standing in the middle of the room, but you didn't want to sit on his bed as casually as you usually did either. You took a deep breath. You had to get it out before you had a chance to change your mind. "First of all, I'm sorry I yelled at you and didn't give you a chance to explain yourself." Your eyes shifted down in penitence. "I wasn't in the right headspace to receive an explanation or have a conversation. Secondly, I'm sorry I..." You looked away and spoke very quickly under your breath, "... cooked human flesh in your kitchen and used your vegetable peeler on dickmeat." 

Killer tilted his head to the side. "Used the vegetable peeler on what?" Killer shook his head. "Never mind. I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn't have taken over your autonomy like that. It was wrong of me to decide what to do without talking to you."

"It was my only remaining eye, Killer. I was completely blind, and without vision I can't fight. I can hardly use my devil fruit. It tormented me to think that when I got better, you would leave me at the next island, just a useless extra mouth to feed." You tried your damndest not to cry. 

"We wouldn't abandon you like that. And why would we? We still care about you. We want you here."

"I didn't know if that was still true, after what happened to me." You sniffed. "It felt like a betrayal. I trusted you as a first mate. I trusted you as someone who I thought cared about me."

Killer wanted to pull you into his body and comfort you. He held back, not knowing if you would be okay with that right now. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it would be better to wait until you healed before telling you about your eye. I didn't want you to try to use your fruit too soon and ruin it or hurt yourself even more. I would never betray you, darlin. Promise." He gingerly caressed your cheek with his finger.

Emma was right. He did have a good reason. You nodded in understanding. It was true you may have irreversibly damaged it or yourself in your haste to put it back, but your mind would have been slightly more at ease knowing that all was not lost. You closed the distance between you and Killer and wrapped your arms around him. "Just talk to me next time. Please."

Killer pulled you tightly against him. "There's not going to be a next time, darlin. I'll make sure of it." He wanted to hold and comfort you so badly. He nuzzled the top of your head with his helmet.

You missed the smell and the feel of his skin. You missed the safety within his arms. You missed holding him. 

The two of you embraced, breathing each other in, reveling in each other's warm touch. There was a soft clunk as Killer's helmet came off and was tossed somewhere in his room. A kiss was placed on your forehead and his hand tangled itself in your hair as he tugged you tighter to him. It felt like the two of you could melt into one. There was an emptiness as you separated, swiftly repaired with the meeting of lips. Tender at first, full of love and longing, conveying things that couldn't be expressed in words. Passionate, letting each other know how much the other was missed and that the feelings they had for each other ran deeper than any anger. Hungry, as each of you realized how much you missed having each other. 

Killer delicately pushed you back. "Are you sure?" 

You were breathing heavily. Were you sure? Were you ready? There was no looming cloud of anxiety or any feeling other than your burning desire to be with Killer. "I need you, Killer." This is not what you had in mind when you were knocking at his door. But kissing lit some kind of fire inside you that wouldn't stop raging until you were with him.

That was all he needed to hear. In a flash, you were on top of Killer in his bed. "We can stop if you get uncomfortable."

You pressed your palm into his growing erection. "Do you want to have sex or not?" Cuz it sounds like you don't."

Killer sucked in a sharp breath as you tugged his jeans down. You abruptly stopped and stared. "What's wrong?"

"Those.... are my panties." 

Fuck. Killer forgot he was wearing them. "Kid made me wear 'em. Y'know because you needed time and Kid is Kid. He thought it might help um... with the cravings." When you didn't say anything, Killer added, 'S-sorry. They're probably a little stretched out." 

You were hypnotized by the way the black elastic cut into the skin of Killer's thighs. "Fuck. Me next." You ghosted your hand over the lacy fabric that was straining to contain Killer's bulge. Even soft, his dick and balls probably showed from the sides. You bit your lower lip to keep from revealing your excitement. You palmed him through the fabric, feeling it become wet with precum. Leaning down you teased the top of the fabric with your teeth and grazed them along Killer's skin, nipping at his V-lines. You kissed his cock through the lace, from the root to the tip, pressing your tongue against the wet spot he created to taste him. Your fingers played with the sides of the panties while you kissed and sucked him through the black veil. His groans were adding to the slick pooling into your own panties. 

You grabbed the black lace in both hands and tore it off him, placing the material in his palm. "Show me how you like to use my dirty panties." 

Killer gripped his cock with the panties and enthusiastically did what you asked. 

You watched him hungrily as he jerked himself off, slipping your shirt off over your head. The pants you had on were tossed to the floor and you were soon left in only your panties. You positioned yourself over him, holding your hand over his so you could feel every squeeze and stroke he made over his cock. Your lips found his again and you devoured every moan that left them. You grabbed his hair with your other hand and pulled him closer to you, snaking your tongue into his mouth. His hand moved faster up and down his cock. Killer's other hand rubbed your clit through your panties, feeling how soaked they already were. You let him get close, waiting until he was panting into your mouth before tightening your grip on his hand and forcing him to stop. 

"That's all for me, baby. Don't you dare waste it."

Killer flipped you on your back and pushed your legs up, burying his face between your thighs. His tongue swept up your slit and pressed into the apex of your pussy. You could feel his mouth move against the sensitive bud. He groaned and squeezed your plush thighs as he tasted your center. Killer tugged your panties off and pressed them to his face, breathing in your essence before plunging his tongue into your cunt. He lapped at the sweet nectar gathered between your petals until your legs started to shake. His mouth shifted to suck your clit and flick his tongue against it while he teased your entrance with a finger. Your fingers dug into the sheets as he slipped his finger in and worked it in time with his tongue. He added a second finger, causing you to briefly flinch as you felt a twinge of pain. You tilted your hips to give him a better angle. 

Killer must have noticed. "You okay?"

You nodded and yanked him by the hair back down between your legs. "Keep going," you panted. "I'm right there." Heat pooled in your lower belly as the impending orgasm built up again. Your back arched and both hands wove themselves into Killer's hair. The sloppy sounds coming from your pussy were downright sinful. "Oh fuck! Please!" You threw your head back as you came. "Fuck, Killer! Yes!" You rode his fingers through your orgasm, twitching at every lap of his tongue against your oversensitive clit. You pulled him up for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

"Fuck, I missed you," Killer groaned against your lips. His heavy cock drooled on your leg, begging to cum next. He fisted his dick, coating it in his precum and the slick left on his fingers. Killer pressed his glans into your opening, stopping when he noticed you flinching again. "What is it? Do you need to stop?"

"No, I don't know." Your brows furrowed. It made no sense. You had no problem taking him before, and now even two fingers stung. It was like you were a virgin or something. That sparked something in your brain. "I think... I healed myself... into a virgin again." You put your hands over your face in embarrassment. The same thing that happened to your uterus. Of course you accidentally healed your hymen, too. 

Killer raised his eyebrows. "Oh." He paused. "So... ?" He wasn't sure if that meant you wanted to stop or continue. He thought you felt a little tighter than normal but thought it was because it had been a while. 

A slow smile spread across your face. "So... take my virginity, Killer." 

His dick twitched in his excitement. He pressed his cock against you again before thinking better of it and slipped his two fingers in first. "Let me work you open a little more or it'll hurt." He slipped a third finger in and watched discomfort flash across your features.

"It's gonna hurt either way. Just give me your cock." 

Killer grinned. "Yeah? How bad do you want it?" He removed his fingers and licked them off before slapping your pussy with his cock. 

"Please put it in. Please," you begged. "I wanna be filled up."

Your words turned into unintelligible babbling as he pressed into you. He went slowly, giving your body time to adjust to his. It did hurt, though it was only a sting. Killer pulled out and pushed back in a little more each time until he was fully sheathed in you. The feeling of being stuffed was almost enough to make you cum again. It felt like Killer's cock was up to your belly button.

"That tight little pussy took me so well." Killer pulled your hips tighter to him so you could feel how deep he was. "It's so tight I can barely move," he groaned into your ear. 

You felt your cunt clench around him at his words. You wrapped your legs around his middle as he started to pump in and out of you. You could feel every drag of his member against your walls. It wouldn't have been this easy if you weren't already so wet from your prior orgasm. There was barely a sting as he fucked into you harder. You were intoxicated by how good his cock felt inside you, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

"I can feel that cunt twitch. Is this virgin pussy gonna cum for me so soon?" Killer could feel his own orgasm quickly approaching. Your cunt was so wet and so tight around him, he knew he wasn't going to last from the start. 

That was all it took for you to unravel. You cried out again as a wave of pleasure gripped your body. There was an increase in slickness between your legs as you came.

"That's my good girl. Let that pussy cum all over me." Killer barely got the words out before his hips were stuttering and his eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned into your ear as he came. He pulled you to him and rolled on his side, still inside you. 

You both lay there panting, looking into each other's eyes. He leaned in to kiss you. You lazily traded kisses back and forth, running your hands over each other's bodies. Your kisses turned more fervent. Killer sucked at the skin on your neck, nipping at your collar bone. It didn't take long before you could feel Killer's cock get hard again. He looked at you with a question and you answered by rolling your hips against him. He positioned himself over you again, this time fucking you deep and slow. You felt his cum seep out onto your thighs with every lazy thrust. You were both blissed out from the quick, but intense session prior. Neither of you wanted to talk; this wasn't a time for teasing. This was about making each other know how you felt about the other. Kissing and saying it wasn't enough. You had to show each other the love you felt through actions, by becoming one. 

Hands wandered. Mouths explored but always found each other again. Tongues danced. Hips melted and flowed together. Neither of you were trying to find release, more like letting it find you. You were reveling in pleasure, but it was centered around the person rather than solely the orgasm. The only sounds were soft moans and perhaps murmured "I love you's". 

NEXT

Tag list: @bbnbhm @nocturnalrorobin @wgwingguns

[mimeo-tan]

Winged Messenger (Vanaki)

I had for wanted to make a moc inspired by @bioniclechicken 's Winged Member designs for such a long time. The way they incorporate Piraka Spines into their torsos is so cool! Of course, this was made in Stud.io, so there's no way to get the spines on here...

And, here's a lil sketch i did while planning out the build! Funky little fellow...

[romirola]

Headcanons for the Shaw Pack’s Favorite Clothing Accessories

David: His gold wristwatch that was a gift from Gabe. The watch commemorated David officially taking on the role of Gabe’s beta.

Angel: Their sunglasses. No matter the weather, Angel optimistically wears their sunglasses (whether on their face or on their head) because they always love to be prepared for sunny, warm weather.  

Asher: A gold-and-blue striped necktie. Asher had purchased the tie in preparation for proposing to Babe. Since that plan didn’t go as he expected, Asher has decided to wear the tie to the wedding. 

Babe:  A pair of red jeans that Babe always wears on casual Fridays. Red jeans are not exactly what someone who knows them would expect, which is exactly why Babe incorporated the jeans into their wardrobe. It’s empowering for them to see how they pull off the bold look when they catch a glimpse in the mirror.

Milo: His plaid winter scarf. Marie knitted the scarf for Milo when he was young. He was much too small for the scarf at the time, but Marie promised that one day, he’d grow into the scarf. Now an adult who has come into his own, Milo wears the scarf proudly. 

Sweetheart: A green, zip-up, long-sleeve jacket that shows the D.U.M.P. logo embroidered on the front with “Dahlia Division” embroidered in white lettering on their sleeve. The jacket fits Sweetheart sharply, is super-duper comfortable, and acts as a little reminder that they are in a position to enact so much potential good. 

Darling: A Shaw Pack insignia pin Asher gave them after they attended their first pack meeting since returning to Dahlia. Darling takes care to move the pin to their messenger bag, hat, coat, or whatever they are wearing because they like to have that physical denotation that they belong to their pack. 

Sam: A pair of thick, brown work gloves Sam has had since he was human. It’s one of the few pieces of clothing from his time as a human that  (unintentionally) serve as blackout-clothing that protects his now-vampiric skin from the sun. 

-Bonus-

Gabe: His famous leather jacket. He wore it every chance he got. He was even wearing it the day he met his mate. 

Marie: Her yellow-and-black printed purse. It somehow goes with every outfit and holds absolutely anything and everything anyone around her could need. A pen? A snack? A bottle of water? Hand sanitizer? A safety pin? Marie’s got all of that and more inside this purse.

[temporarily-your-saint]

Dull Blades

sneak preview of a benjicot blackwood x targaryen oc fanfic ~

word count: 469

tropes: slow burn, angst, daddy issues (lots of family issues in general tbh), forbidden lovers, marriage pact,

warnings: none for this right now! later on it will most certainly have mature themes ~

Helpless. She felt utterly helpless. It was hard to feel anything else in that moment aside from one other: rage. Rhaelana’s amethyst eyes clouded over into a blank stare as an echo rang in her ears.

“Rhaelana?”

She looked up to where the voice was speaking from. Nodding slowly, she walked around her father to pass through her chambers, into the hallway, and then down the cold stone stairs.

It couldn’t be true. They wouldn’t risk that. No, Otto wouldn’t risk that. It’s absolute barmy.

The princess turned down another hallway, scurrying to find her queen mother.

“Mother?” she called out, her voice echoing back to her in the empty halls. “Mothe–“ but before she could finish, a voice interrupted behind her.

“She’s gone. Your mother left on Syrax,” Daemon answered quickly. His eyes bore into hers as she turned around, searching for her thoughts. He recognized those eyes for they were her mother’s. She held that same lost but intense gaze moments ago before coming to tell his daughter of the heartbreaking news.

His shoulders dropped as he took in her appearance. She may have taken after her mother in beauty but his daughter truly carried his rage.

“Well, we must do something, anything,” the princess’s face shifted from anger to desperation as she plead with the king consort.

“That’s not my call to make, Rhaelana. At least not yet. For now, we must wait,” Daemon’s words were firm yet she could tell that he too was frustrated, aching for action. For now, they were to stay put and obey their queen. Though, there were no orders as of yet. But it’s all they had to work with for the time being and Rhaelana hated it.

Her eyes swelled with tears at his words. How was she supposed to wait? Her mother was now gone and her sweet, baby brother slain by their own kin. Their deceitful, wicked kin. Preposterous.

How had it come to this?

Yes, there had been ongoing tension when the family came together while her grandfather, King Viserys, had been alive. But this? To kill a boy. A young, boy. A messenger! She knew her brother had not gone looking for a fight. Oh, how her uncles had stooped so low…

The back of her hand found her cheeks as she wiped the burning tears that began to fall from her eyes.

She took a step forward as a harsh whisper erupted from her throat while the princess spoke, “I will end Aemond. It will come one day that I am to face him and you will not stop me. Nor mother.”

With those final words, Rhaelana strode past Daemon and back to her chambers. Seconds later he heard the old wooden door of her room slam.

Certainly, my daughter, he thought to himself.

══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══

Hi, hello! I’ve been cooking something up while watching the second season. MAAAJOORRR brainrot mode. What started out as a little one-shot blerb in my brain has taken over completely, soooo here’s a little teaser for it. The two parts of Dull Blades will be incorporated into the fic but will have little tweaks! I’m planning on posting Part 3 of it but then that will be it until the actual fic ~

Anyways, I have been having so much fun writing Rhaelana and Daemon’s complicated father-daughter relationship and couldn’t wait soooo here you go—a lil offering before the season finale and before I post Part 3 and then the actual fic. 🤲

[mapplestrudel]

"On Monday a new version of the globally unprecedented EU bill aimed at searching all private messages and chats for suspicious content (so-called chat control or child sexual abuse regulation) was circulated and leaked by POLITICO soon after. According to the latest proposal providers would be free whether or not to use ‘artificial intelligence’ to classify unknown images and text chats as ‘suspicious’. However they would be obliged to search all chats for known illegal content and report them, even at the cost of breaking secure end-to-end messenger encryption. The EU governments are to position themselves on the proposal by 23 September, and the EU interior ministers are to endorse it on 10 October. Messenger providers Signal and Threema have already announced that they will never agree to incorporate such surveillance routines into their apps and would rather shut down operations in the EU."

[talonabraxas]

Aphrodite's Allure: The Profound Meanings Behind the Greek Goddess of Love

Aphrodite Symbols The symbol of Aphrodite varies depending on the context and representation. Here are some common symbols associated with Aphrodite:

1. Scallop Shell: The scallop shell is one of the most recognizable symbols of Aphrodite. It represents her birth from the sea foam in Greek mythology. The shell is often depicted as a motif in artwork, jewelry, and sculptures associated with the goddess.

2. Dove: The dove is a symbol of love, peace, and innocence and is strongly associated with Aphrodite. Doves are often depicted alongside her or as messengers of her divine love. They represent the gentle and nurturing aspects of love.

3. Mirror: The mirror symbolizes self-reflection, beauty, and vanity, all of which are connected to Aphrodite. Mirrors were believed to be a tool through which she could enhance her own beauty or bestow it upon mortals. Mirrors can also represent the importance of self-love and acceptance.

4. Rose: The rose is a powerful symbol of love and beauty, and it is closely linked to Aphrodite. The red rose, in particular, is strongly associated with romantic love. Roses are often used as offerings, decorations, or representations of the goddess in rituals and altars dedicated to her.

5. Swan: The swan is a symbol of grace, beauty, and elegance, and it is often associated with Aphrodite. In mythology, swans were sometimes linked to her, particularly in tales of love and transformation. The swan represents the ethereal and enchanting aspects of Aphrodite's domain.

These symbols can be used to represent Aphrodite in artwork, jewelry, or as visual representations on altars or in rituals dedicated to her. They embody different aspects of her mythology and energy, reflecting her associations with love, beauty, and desire.

Aphrodite's mythology reflects the complex and multifaceted nature of love and desire, encompassing both its divine and mortal aspects. Her stories explore the transformative power of love, its capacity to inspire both joy and sorrow, and its significance in shaping the lives of gods and mortals alike.

Aphrodite as a Deity While Aphrodite is not explicitly associated with witchcraft and Wicca, her qualities and attributes can be incorporated into these practices. In witchcraft and Wicca, various deities from different pantheons are honoured and called upon for specific purposes. Aphrodite, as the goddess of love, beauty, and desire, can be invoked for matters related to relationships, self-love, sexuality, and enchantment.

1. Love Spells and Relationship Magick: Aphrodite's domain over love makes her a natural choice for practitioners seeking assistance with matters of the heart. Devotees of Aphrodite might call upon her energy and guidance when performing love spells or rituals aimed at attracting a romantic partner, enhancing an existing relationship, or fostering self-love. This can involve creating altars dedicated to Aphrodite, using symbols associated with her, or reciting invocations to invoke her presence.

2. Beauty and Glamour Magick: Aphrodite's association with beauty lends itself well to rituals involving personal transformation, enhancing physical appearance, or boosting self-confidence. Practitioners may incorporate Aphrodite's energy into rituals involving beauty spells, glamour magick, or rituals aimed at cultivating inner radiance and self-acceptance. This could involve using beauty products, performing mirror work, or engaging in self-care practices as acts of devotion to Aphrodite.

3. Sexuality and Sensuality: As the goddess of desire, Aphrodite can be invoked in rituals or practices related to sexuality and sensuality. This may involve exploring and honouring one's own sexual identity, embracing pleasure, or seeking guidance in matters of sexual health and relationships. Aphrodite's energy can be called upon to invoke a sense of passion, liberation, and connection within oneself or with a partner.

4. Emotional Healing and Self-Love: Aphrodite's influence extends beyond romantic love and physical beauty. She can also be invoked for emotional healing and self-love practices. Devotees may seek Aphrodite's guidance to cultivate self-compassion, heal from past heartbreaks, or foster a deeper connection with their own emotions. Practices may include journaling, affirmations, or rituals that encourage self-care, forgiveness, and acceptance.

It is important to note that witchcraft and Wicca are highly individualistic practices, and the way Aphrodite is incorporated can vary among practitioners. Some may work exclusively with her, while others may call upon her alongside other deities or incorporate her attributes into broader rituals and spellwork. Ultimately, the choice to include Aphrodite or any other deity in witchcraft or Wicca depends on personal preference, spiritual connection, and the intentions of the practitioner.

Crystals For Aphrodite Crystals and herbs can be used to enhance your connection with Aphrodite and to amplify the energy of love, beauty, and desire. Here are some crystals and herbs traditionally associated with Aphrodite:

Crystals: 1. Rose Quartz: Known as the "stone of love," rose quartz is strongly linked to Aphrodite. It promotes self-love, deepens connections in relationships, and attracts love and compassion.

2. Rhodochrosite: This crystal is often associated with romantic love and passion. It can help heal emotional wounds, enhance self-confidence, and ignite the flames of desire.

3. Emerald: Symbolizing love and fertility, emerald is a crystal of abundance and attraction. It can open the heart chakra, promote harmony in relationships, and enhance one's ability to give and receive love.

4. Clear Quartz: Clear quartz is a versatile crystal that can amplify intentions and energy. It can enhance the power of love spells and rituals and facilitate communication with divine energies.

5. Moonstone: Moonstone is connected to feminine energy and intuition. It can enhance emotional healing, balance emotions, and promote receptivity to love and sensuality.

Herbs for Aphrodite 1. Rose: Rose is a classic symbol of love and is strongly associated with Aphrodite. Its petals can be used in love spells, baths, or as offerings. Rose promotes self-love, harmony in relationships, and attraction.

2. Jasmine: Jasmine is a fragrant herb that represents sensuality, romance, and beauty. Its aroma can create an enchanting atmosphere and heighten feelings of love and desire.

3. Damiana: Damiana is an herb traditionally associated with passion, lust, and sexuality. It can be used to increase libido, enhance romantic encounters, and ignite passion.

4. Lavender: Lavender promotes relaxation and peace, creating an atmosphere conducive to love and connection. It can be used in love spells, bath rituals, or as an offering to promote emotional well-being and harmony.

5. Yarrow: Yarrow is often associated with love divination and protection. It can be used in love spells, sachets, or charms to enhance attraction, strengthen relationships, and protect against heartache.

Remember to research and familiarize yourself with the properties and uses of crystals and herbs before incorporating them into your practices. Connect with their energy and set your intentions when using them in rituals, spells, or altar decorations dedicated to Aphrodite.

Aphrodite Animal Correspondences Several animals are associated with Aphrodite due to their symbolism and connections to love, beauty, and sensuality. While not exhaustive, here are a few animals commonly associated with Aphrodite:

1. Doves: Doves are perhaps the most prominent animal associated with Aphrodite. These birds symbolize love, peace, and harmony. In Greek mythology, doves were sacred to Aphrodite and were often depicted as her companions. They represent the gentle and nurturing aspects of love and are seen as messengers of the goddess.

2. Swans: Swans are often linked to Aphrodite due to their elegance, grace, and beauty. They symbolize purity, loyalty, and transformation. In various myths, swans are associated with love and desire, representing the ethereal and enchanting aspects of Aphrodite's domain.

3. Sparrows: Sparrows are connected to Aphrodite as symbols of passion, fertility, and companionship. They were believed to be birds of Aphrodite and were associated with love and lust. Sparrows are often seen as joyful and social creatures, reflecting the joys and connections found in relationships.

4. Dolphins: Dolphins hold a significant place in Aphrodite's mythology, as she emerged from the sea. Dolphins represent playfulness, joy, and the transformative power of love. They are associated with sensuality and pleasure, reflecting the fluid and graceful nature of Aphrodite's energy.

5. Butterflies: Butterflies are often linked to Aphrodite due to their symbolism of transformation, beauty, and freedom. They represent the growth and change that can occur through the power of love. Butterflies also symbolize the ephemeral and delicate nature of romance and desire.

These animals can be incorporated into rituals, artwork, or visual representations of Aphrodite. They serve as reminders of the goddess's qualities and can deepen the connection with her energy when working with her in spiritual practices.

[homestuckreplay]

some times video games, DOES CAUSE violence: Who Is Dave Strider?

Character Deep Dive 3 - 7/7/2009

TG: im wearing them ironically TG: because theyre awesome TG: the fact that theyre ironic makes them awesome TG: and vice versa TG: are you taking notes on how to be cool?? jesus get a fucking pen (p.110)

With an ‘OH PSYCHE’ and a dramatic sword slash into the digital world, Dave Strider made his dramatic entrance into Homestuck on June 29, 2009. We’ve previously seen a few of his instant messenger chats with John, which establish him as a disaffected and irony-poisoned guy who values the idea of being ‘cool’ and dismisses his friend’s earnest interests. Actually seeing Dave as a point of view character gives a very different impression - he's emotionally dependent on the people around him, doesn't have a strong sense of self, and is scared to express an earnest thought. And he's not even the tiniest bit cool.

Below the cut is an analysis of what we learn about Dave in the first 350 pages of Homestuck, through the framework of his stated interests on p.315. It's about 4.4k words because much like Dave, I can’t shut up.

1 - You have a penchant for spinning out UNBELIEVABLY ILL JAMS with your TURNTABLES AND MIXING GEAR.

Dave’s computer (p.323) has two desktop files for his jams - ‘ILL BEATS’ and ‘DOPE RHYMES. SO DOPE’ which I can only assume are two separate musical genres that Dave understands the nuance of, even while his listeners do not. However, despite Homestuck regularly featuring music as part of the story, we don’t hear any of Dave’s sick mixtapes. Instead, we make them for him (p.338) - meaning Dave’s first stated interest is one that the audience has control over. This is like if on page 4, each reader got to enter a list of movies for John to love, and those movies were substituted into the later comic, giving every reader a unique experience of John’s taste. 

John is established as someone who has a very specific taste, staying firm while other characters and the narration criticize him. Dave is established as easily influenced by other people’s creative impulses and opinions on art. Whether the reader seriously creates something they enjoy, or layers all 16 or 20 beats at once in an unlistenable mess, the next page still reads ‘Those beats were so fresh they belong in the produce aisle’ (p.339). Dave thinking whatever the reader does is cool is similar to him thinking whatever his bro does is cool, which he mentions throughout his pesterlogs and narration in reference to diverse topics like the sylladex, video games, and puppets. 

He’s also easily influenced by John, perhaps even gullible, as John’s talk of a monster pissing in apple juice at the factory is enough to get inside Dave’s head and stop him from drinking the bottle he was excited about, and Dave switches instantly from parroting the GameBro review of Sburb to believing that Sburb can save Rose’s life, based only on what John says. A big question I’m interested in with Dave is what he actually likes, and where to draw the line between his own interests and opinions, and those of other people that he copies without exploring for himself.

Dave being a technology guy is the first thing we learn about him because of his username, turntechGodhead. We see Dave protective of his turntables, not wanting to spill anything on them (p.315) and we see him refer to his technology by the model name, suggesting that the specifics of the tech are important to him (p.337). Three of Dave’s six stated interests relate to music - unbelievably ill jams, bands no-one’s heard of, and phat rhymes. As music was notably absent from John and Rose’s interests, despite them being skilled instrumentalists, this over-focus on music is really notable. Dave’s musical interests explore the full spectrum of creating vs appreciating music, with Dave creating remixes as the exact middle point, a form of creation that is based on incorporating other artists’ work that Dave enjoys. This is kind of perfect for him as someone whose personality might just be a remix of his brother’s. 

We get no sense of Dave being religious, so the ‘godhead’ in his name apparently refers to how Dave presents himself and his creations. He talks as though his opinions are objectively correct, even in narration, and describes himself as being ‘worshipped’, with people prostrating themselves before him and kissing his shoes. However, music itself can be a religious experience. In Christianity, for example, songs of praise are a form of worship and a way to bring believers closer to God, and all major world religions have their own musical traditions. In secular culture, for many people, music intensifies emotions, creates community, and can create feelings of reverence and catharsis similar to those experienced in religious worship (see this article and this deviation for examples). I can easily imagine Dave feeling the same way, and music being his truest expression of emotion and therefore the thing that hits him most deeply and defines his life.

2 - You like to rave about BANDS NO ONE'S EVER HEARD OF BUT YOU.

We are taking this one on faith, because so far, we haven't seen Dave raving about any bands. He does own an extensive and colorful record collection which he keeps beneath his turntables, but he hasn't looked at any, or given the reader a chance to rifle through them the way we did with John's game collection. This interest parallels Rose's 'RATHER OBSCURE LITERATURE', and similarly, I don't think Dave's bands are genuinely underground - they're probably well regarded indie bands who aren't in the pop charts. If I’m headcanoning Dave’s favorite bands it’s Dirty Projectors, Porcupine Tree, The Streets, Animal Collective, Modest Mouse and LCD Soundsystem. The only real world media we know for sure Dave likes is Starsky & Hutch (2004), and Ben Stiller as an actor. Some of Ben Stiller’s work is definitely ironic comedy, but it’s still fairly mainstream.

It's also possible that Dave already got his only three friends to listen to his obscure bands, and now they have heard of them, meaning Dave can no longer act smug and superior about being the only one that knows them. This is a tragic and self defeating prophecy, and there's no direct textual evidence for it, but I came up with the idea while thinking about the Midnight Crew comic. Dave has a poster and bedspread of this comic but '[hasn't] looked at it in a while' (p.327), so he's less of a fan than he used to be. John also reads Midnight Crew and its predecessor (p.112), so I wonder if Dave got John into mspaintadventures and it then lost its magic of being something cool to Dave. There is a real loneliness in not being able to share your interests with somebody for fear that it will ruin them somehow, or that other people won't understand them the same way - Dave also mentions that it's hard to explain the 'subtleties' of his ironic appreciation (p.318). John likes everything so earnestly in a way that seems uncomfortable for Dave.

3 - You collect WEIRD DEAD THINGS PRESERVED IN VARIOUS WAYS.

Much like the record collection, we can see evidence of Dave's weird dead things in his room, but it's not an interest he's explored in the comic. Page 337 gives us a good view of his specimens, which appear to include an embryo in a jar of liquid, an assortment of scorpions, centipedes and beetles encased in solid material, a fish encased in a different solid, and various rocks, fossils and bones just chilling on the shelf. We don't learn whether Dave collects and preserves the specimens himself or buys them like this, but I found guides online for preserving specimens as a hobby using commercially available supplies, and those sunglasses are kind of like safety goggles (or at least better than nothing). Either way, this interest sticks out - all the others are very typical for a selfconsciously cool indie guy, but even if it's ironic, this is some confirmed nerd shit.

I do think Weird Science will become important to Homestuck. John's interested in ectoBiology and paranormal lore, Rose lives next door to a mysterious laboratory and has the ethos of a mad scientist, and now Dave displays biological specimens on a shelf. I'm always thinking about how the comic is setting itself up to explore some fascinating dichotomies (spectrums?) like physical vs digital and technology vs religion, and I'm now adding art vs science to that list.

I also think we can interpret this interest non-literally, and think about what other things Dave might like to preserve. Vinyl was thought of as a dead medium for decades, until a recent indie resurgence that Dave is helping with. Photography, Dave's next interest, is a way of preserving a moment in time that can't be relived. And one popular argument for why the Internet is good is that while physical items like a paper book will degrade over time, digital data like a website can be preserved forever. Maybe part of the reason Dave feels a lot of responsibility towards his websites is because he knows that people could still be reading them decades or even centuries from now, when he himself is a weird dead thing. In a story where Sburb represents the near-limitless potential for creation and destruction, it is very interesting that Dave, the biggest Sburb hater, is associated with preservation.

4 - You are an AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHER and operate your own MAKESHIFT DARKROOM.

Again, Dave hasn't discussed his photography, but his pictures are strung up around his room. This is fascinating because it implies that the makeshift darkroom is also Dave's actual room, not the bathroom or a spare room or closet. This might suggest that like John, Dave doesn't have much control over the rest of the house. His brother has puppets strung up in the hallway and bathroom, but Dave either isn't allowed to hang his photos there, or he's not comfortable hanging them where the rest of his family might see. It also suggests that Dave simply draws the blinds, switches off the lights and screens, and exists in his room in darkness, navigating by touch and memory alone. This might tie into how half his hobbies are related to sound, not sight - and Dave wearing sunglasses indoors could be a way of practicing finding his way around with reduced sight, or an effect of regularly doing so, if Dave spends enough time in darkness that he now struggles with bright lights.

Three of Dave's four visible photos are selfies of him in different poses, despite a host of interesting things to photograph in his room. I'm thinking of a line from House of Leaves where a character, famous for her smile, is described as practicing it every night in front of the mirror when she was fourteen. Dave is the same to me. He's regularly associated with muting and masking his emotions - for example, saying 'Nah.' to retrieving his arms from cinderblocks (p.313), where John and Rose had far stronger emotional reactions to similar commands (p.5, p.218). Dave photographing himself in the perfect expression or pose surgically designed to look effortless, then studying those photographs and iterating from there, is so easy to imagine.

Conversely, for someone who is so dedicated to concealing emotion to the point of wearing sunglasses and hiding his eyes even while alone, making art (like photography and music) is probably the only way Dave knows how to process his feelings. Sadly we are in a post-cassette tape world, but Dave is such a 'make a mixtape for his crush' type of guy that I can imagine him finding a bunch of limewire rips, compressing them into a zip file and emailing them to John, who replies like 'I don't know how to open this'.

5 - You maintain a number of IRONICALLY HUMOROUS BLOGS, WEBSITES, AND SOCIAL NETWORKING PROFILES.

We are treated to two of Dave's ironically humorous websites - sweet bro’s hella blog, a blogspot page, and SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF, a dot com that really exists (and redirects to the SBAHJ comic on mspaintadventures). This explains everything. A blogspot is one thing but owning a dot com makes you a Guy Who Owns Web Domains, which feels extremely cool despite being ultimately meaningless. These sites also establish how much Dave has to say - we see this in pesterlogs too, where Dave will message John every few minutes asking for updates on the Sburb beta (p. 26, 35, 110) or send twenty messages in a row even after John has said he’s leaving the chat (p.204). 

On sweet bro’s hella blog (p.325), Dave’s just yelling into the void with no real goal in mind, just an idea he thought would be funny. I do think his March review is pretty funny, but I also think Dave likes GameBro for real. He respects their opinions - ‘did you see how it got slammed in game bro????’ (p.26) - and changes the subject when John criticizes it. He’s also adopted the lexicon, as the GameBro review of Sburb (p.42) is written similarly to how Dave types. But mostly I’m interested in Dave’s blog’s followers. He has at least twelve, and maybe more. The Ghostbusters icon is almost certainly John, but none of the icons jump out as Rose or GG. They could be real people - or they could be more of Dave’s accounts, with him creating an extensive social network of characters who interact with each other’s posts ‘ironically’. If Dave is someone who craves social interaction, this could be a way he copes with loneliness.

In SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF (p.326), Dave is creating something. He’s a webcomic artist! He might even have been inspired by the Midnight Crew. He’s only made four comics so far, which I’ll call ‘stairs’, ‘HE HE HE’, ‘jelly’, and ‘BARACK’. These all feature two characters, who are presumably Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, but it’s not defined which is which, so I’ll call them Red and Blue. Red’s mom makes an appearance in HE HE HE, and there’s a squirrel in BARACK, but these are side characters. The dynamic seems to be Red getting into situations, and Blue expositing/commentating on them. They are both gamers, might also be stoners, and Blue is possibly transmasc. BARACK suggests that the two characters might represent the American political parties, which makes sense, because the recent 2008 election is probably the first political moment Dave’s been old enough to have real knowledge and opinions on. 

SBAHJ is clearly intended to be near impossible to parse, filled with nonsensical dialog and plot points and horrific jpeg compression, so it’s extremely hard to analyze right now. I think this might be on purpose, and that part of Dave’s layers of irony are him not wanting people to learn too much about him through his art. The line between irony and sincerity is something really fascinating to me, because these concepts are so embedded into internet culture. Dave tells himself he’s making something that’s bad on purpose, and that he’s doing it ironically. But he actually believes that what he’s making is good. He thinks it’s good because of the irony, but he’s still making art that he’s proud of, he’s still showing vulnerability by posting it on the internet and getting people’s honest reactions, no matter how many layers he tries to cloak that in. 

Dave does think of his blog as a responsibility - ‘ive got a lot of shit on my plate, i am sort of a big deal ok?’ (p.333) - and I think that’s a really common feeling. Having any kind of following, even if it’s just John, his bro, and a couple of strangers on the internet, can easily turn into feeling like there’s an obligation to create content for them. If Dave’s cool bro has promoted Dave’s work, that becomes even more pressure, since those are people Dave probably wants to impress. So when he says he doesn’t have time to read Midnight Crew (p.332) or play Sburb with Rose (p.333), I don’t think he’s lying, or making himself out to be busier than he is.

Much like Dave’s sick beats (p.338), SBAHJ is the first time a Homestuck character has created something that also exists in our world. I think it’s very interesting that John, Rose and Dave all have meta roles to play in the story, but they are all different flavors of meta. John’s meta role is explicitly that of a character, but one that the reader, player, and narrator are all able to control at times through the various layers of the narrative (p.90, p.253, etc). Rose’s meta role is that of a player, able to control John’s environment in godlike ways and be immune to the commands of the Vagabond, another player (p.139, p.277, etc). Now, Dave’s meta role is that of the narrator, as he infodumps and exposits even when nobody is around, posts commentary, and creates an entirely separate narrative on his own website.

6 - And if the inspiration strikes, you won't hesitate to drop some PHAT RHYMES on a mofo and REPRESENT.

The phatness of rhymes can’t be quantified scientifically, but I did my best. I tried reading both of Dave’s raps aloud, doing my best to put them to a beat. The first four lines (p.287) went well, and it all fell apart from there. 

This didn’t feel like a fair test as I’d never usually read rap lyrics before listening to the song - so I read the lyrics to Lil Wayne’s 2008 song A Milli, and Kendrick Lamar’s 2009 remix of the same song, which I hadn’t listened to before. These were both much easier to read in rhythm, and when I listened to the songs afterwards, they were decently close to what I’d imagined. To further control the variables, I read Andrew Hussie’s 2005 comic And It Don’t Stop, which centers around rap battles. Here, too, the rhymes and rhythms are crisp - so this is a Dave issue, and not an author issue.

Dave is trying to use the word ‘McConaughey’ in a rap. He is probably inspired by far more experienced rappers who might be able to pull that off, but Dave definitely can’t. I think he’s skipping steps and trying to make something complex before he has the basics nailed down. His raps also highlight how self centered he is, much like his infinite recursion of ironic websites. John reveals that his life was in danger, and Dave’s instant reaction is: ‘how can I make this about my art?’ 

However, I’m concerned about the cultural implications of Dave’s raps. We don’t know Dave’s race and he definitely could be black, but there’s no specific indication of that. He’s represented in #ffffff, which is closer to a white skin tone than any other - many black and white comics use shading to denote a dark skinned character. Due to the nature of white privilege, white is culturally seen as the ‘default’ or ‘unraced’ option. In books, race or skin tone will be described for characters of color but not mentioned for white characters, and both Lego and The Simpsons use yellow skin for the majority of their characters as an ostensibly universal option, but still depict characters of color with brown skin tones, implying that the default yellow actually means white. 

Written by a white author, it’s likely that Homestuck has the same problem - and two factors make this even more concerning. The first is And It Don’t Stop, which was co-created by Black artist Tauhid Bondia, but was entirely written by white artist Andrew Hussie. The comic includes multiple instances of the n-word as well as a couple other race related jokes. The second is Dave’s raps themselves, one of which is an irreverent analysis of black presidents in movies at the start of the Obama era. Real life black people have incredibly varied opinions on race and politics, but Dave is a fictional character, and even if he is intended to be textually black, it’s uncomfortable for a white author to write him rapping about living in a post-racism world. 

I think it’s likely that the author - and by extension, Dave himself - are justifying their racism by claiming that it’s ironic and doesn’t represent their actual beliefs, failing to see that the effects of their words are exactly the same. I can give Dave the benefit of the doubt because he is 13 years old and doesn’t exist, but I think the very real 29 year old creator of this work should do better.

7 - The Absence of Gaming

John and Rose shared one common interest, which was video games. We know that Dave reads GameBro, owns the Sburb beta, and has played Problem Sleuth and And It Don’t Stop with John (or at least enjoys the art of these games). And yet, he doesn’t cite gaming as an interest, which I've been puzzling and theorizing over in my mind.

Dave likes gaming unironically and loves playing games with John. He reads GameBro to find out what the Correct Contrarian Takes are that’ll be socially acceptable in Cool Guy Circles. He does this to keep up with his bro, who he has a ‘campaign of one-upmanship’ with (p.314) not dissimilar from the Prankster’s Gambit between John and his dad, and who plays a very important role in his life. The magazine is called GameBro, Dave’s comic features Sweet Bro, and Dave effusively compliments his brother in both pesterlogs and narration, such as ‘my bro taught me a few tricks he basically knows everything and is awesome’ (p.35). 

Dave tells John to brush up on his data structures and allocate his strife specibus, but never actually demonstrates his own knowledge of data structures, and doesn’t know the specific procedure for allocating the specibus (p.35). Dave’s not an expert himself, he’s just parroting the sylladex tricks his bro taught to him. Dave never states a reason for his disinterest in Sburb beyond ‘it sounds so HELLS of boring’ (p.110), and we know that Dave’s bro also doesn’t plan on playing Sburb (p.314). Dave also implies that he’s a little bit scared of his brother with the mildly threatening ‘hes not gonna be happy about [my taking his Sburb discs]’ (p.294).

It’s highly possible that Dave’s love of irony also comes directly from imitating his bro, who is probably a 16 year old high schooler involved in a weird theater kid subculture, based on typical sibling age gaps and the puppets strung around the house. To Dave at 13, of course an older, alternative teen is going to be the absolute height of cool, even while it all looks silly to an outsider. I think that John’s stack modus is actually a very standard option for a sylladex, and that Dave and his bro are the weird ones insisting that hash map is usable - I can imagine them being like ‘why is everyone always using “plates” and “bowls”? I eat all of my meals out of aluminum foil folded into the right shapes.’ 

Dave’s post-ironic hipsterism isn’t exclusive to men, of course, but it is a very specific type of masculinity - ironic sexism is a known phenomenon. Dave, who confines his emotions to an expressionless nod, solves the minor problem of someone getting his name wrong by making a violent sword attack, and makes gay jokes but gets defensive the second someone suggests that he might be gay, is definitely falling into some toxic masculinity. 

Gender roles (both male and female) are unachievable ideals for even the most cisgender and perisex of people, but I think there’s a reading of Dave as a transgender man who came out when he was young and passes well, but always has to put in more work than the other men around him, because he has to work against biology and other people’s perception of his gender. Whether Dave is trans or cis, I think his ninja sword could be a metaphor for masculinity - it’s allocated to his strife specibus, but his actual strife portfolio is empty, and the sword is displayed on the wall. To me this says that Dave is a man, but he’s more concerned with the outward performance of masculinity than actually buying into those gender roles.

Final Thoughts

Just like Rose, Dave has meticulously crafted the personality he wants to have, but there are plenty of cracks in his facade. All three of our main characters so far are easy to understand and easy to relate to - right from their early appearances, we can see the clear disconnects between characters’ words, thoughts and actions, and effortlessly synthesize them into a coherent character. The author is simply gifted at characterization. The patterns of character introductions are very cool too, making readers both want and expect to see certain things, such as the characters allocating their strife specibus or playing a haunting tune (personally I’m most excited to explore Rose and Dave’s houses further like we have John’s). Establishing these patterns means I have a better sense of where the story is, and don’t have as many questions, though of course some mysteries remain, such as:

Just what is Dave’s cool brother’s deal, really? 

Will Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff (the characters) eventually cross the boundary into the Homestuck universe? Will we ever find out which one is which? 

Are the characters’ interests intended to be things they’re bad at (when they’re skills)? Could this be why music isn’t featured in John and Rose’s lists of interests, but is in Dave’s? Could this mean that Dave kicks ass at video games? 

To what extent are the images in Homestuck literal and to what extent are they representational? Or, in other words, do Dave’s sunglasses really gleam when we get his name right?

Dave’s message to John about apple juice (p.324) is almost identically worded to the preceding narration (p.320). Is the narration a perfect representation of character thoughts for everyone all the time, or is this only true for Dave because he’s positioned closer to the narrator?

[wip]

Hi there! So in private messages my friend tends to send me like 10 posts at once, and right now there is no option to reply to those messages individually. For example in messenger etc if you swipe right (or right click) you can immediately reply to that specific post/message. I was wondering if you guys had any plans on incorporating that or if you'd be willing to. Thanks in advance! 😘

Answer: Hey, @serendipityxing!

Unfortunately, we don’t have any plans on adding that kind of functionality to direct messaging.

But’s it not all bad news—far from it. It sounds like what you’re doing could be much better served by Communities! Sharing posts with friends in a space where you can all comment on them is one of the reasons we’re building it, and we think it would suit you down to the ground. Like a glove, even.

Thanks for getting in touch, and we hope you all enjoy Communities. Give it a whirl sometime.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 planning their wedding with MC

My silly little sequel to this post:

M6 when MC calls them their husband/wife/spouse

~ I have snagged a few pinterest aesthetic ideas for some visuals. Yes they look like stock photos. Unfortunately the image limit is ten so some characters only have one. Let the chaos of Vesuvia's cutest couple begin! ~

Julian

Lights. Action. DRAMA

He spent the six months leading up to the event writing and rewriting all of his lines so he could be completely memorized and off book for the big day

He wants to be perfect for you, enough said

Will also write your lines for you if you request it. He doesn't mind either way, as long as you say "I do" you've been perfect

So many people want to come that the merchants at the south end marketplace agree to clear the square to celebrate

You end up having to do less planning than you expected to. Everyone loves Julian and is quick to volunteer their services

Nazali is thrilled to officiate the ceremony

Julian will admit to having dreamed of this day for years. If you have strong preferences he will prioritize them, but if you're okay with it he'll be delighted to plan the whole thing

As someone who wears layers of leather for the aesthetic in a Mediterranean climate, he will wear black and red to his own wedding

The ceremony is elaborate without being drawn out. He fumbles once or twice but the way he delivers his vows leaves everyone in tears from the combined humor and love

The party lasts through the night. There's drinking and wild dancing and dramatized reenactments of your story so far

He held onto his life for you, and now he gets to promise it to you. He's so happy

Asra

They might be a chill person, but they are still extra. Just take a look at their hat

Happy to leave you in charge of the logistics, all his input is on specific details

Wants to get married on the best day of the year for commitments but isn't worried about the weather at all

Faust is central to the ceremony. She is the keeper of the rings (if you go for that) and will happily stand in for a scarf if you choose a handfasting ceremony

Somehow the Arcana's Magician agrees to officiate. You don't know how that happened

You send invitations to all of the friends that Asra has made during their travels and they're surprised when they actually plan to show up

Selasi is a guest of honor, of course

Aisha and Salim are very happy to share wedding traditions from Zadith (their home country) for you two to incorporate

Things that Asra has preferences on: his outfit. The number of pranks he's allowed to play on the guests. Having good music to dance with you. A meaningful ceremony. All of the colors and magic in his decorations. Honeymoon destination.

Things that Asra is happy for you to decide: catering. Guest list. Venue. Drinks. Budget. Your outfit. Order and type of ceremony

They will help you every step of the way. You've had their heart for years as it is

Nadia

She will ask for your input. But she is planning this wedding

Her last wedding was described as a "drunk Vegas drive thru" and she wants to do right by both herself and you

She wishes she could officiate herself, but she can't, and she doesn't want to ask any family members (though they are all invited to attend) and it starts to look hopeless

Until Valerius offers. He's somehow perfect

The whole affair is about seven different events, exquisitely planned, with multiple outfit changes, ceremonies, and caterers

She will adjust the schedule according to your natural energy levels, but she doesn't do things halfway. She will marry you for the whole world to see

Has ideas for all of your outfits but prioritizes what you want to wear. As long as you make free use of all the tailors and materials available to you

Natiqa and Nasmira arrive early to help wrangle political guests and logistics

Portia is her maid of honor and Chandra acts as messenger owl to coordinate different locations

Lucio is preemptively banned from crashing the reception. Thankfully he doesn't even try

This is the day of her dreams and she gets to call you hers in front of all of Vesuvia. Her eyes are full of joy, despite the stress

And she's really excited for your honeymoon

Muriel

Getting married sounds like a better and better idea the longer he sits and thinks about it. As long as it's with you

Correction: Especially if it's with you

Asra volunteers to officiate as soon as he tells them about it

He wants something small. Something quiet. Something short, sweet, and to the point. Something with under ten people

Unfortunately, after playing a leading role in saving Vesuvia, half the town knows of him personally and adores him. And you.

And both of the heroes? Getting married???

You do a good job of not letting it slip at first, but Nadia mentions it to Portia, who tells Julian, who tells the whole South End

The compromise you make is that the original ceremony will remain as planned. Nadia even classifies the event as a state secret so no one finds out the place or date

After you return from your honeymoon, Nadia will arrange for a public holiday and festival that serves a double purpose to celebrate the marriage. All you two have to do is show up

The ceremony is a simple handfasting in a sacred part of the woods. There are more creatures and sprites in attendance than humans and it's perfect

Needless to say, Inanna is the star

The festival is actually fun for Muriel. He's not alone anymore, and it's wonderful

Portia

Everyone knows Portia. Everyone loves Portia. Everyone owes Portia a favor (lovingly) and is happy to contribute

Mazelinka insists on officiating. From the prow of her boat

It's going to be a big crowd of people, but the good news is that Portia loves the ocean and the docks and beach have lots of space

It's a town effort - the palace chefs and bakers happily volunteer to cover the food, most of her friends play instruments, and Aunt Tasya has resources to spare

You end up planning for an efficient mid morning ceremony and afternoon and evening celebration around a massive bonfire with music and drinks

Rainy days are spent with a notebook and pencil brainstorming ideas together

Pepi even behaves when Portie wrestles her into the biggest bow collar yet

Being an ambassador, she doesn't want to let her wedding get political, so she only invites personal friends from overseas

Nadia has granted you permission to take the boat to the islands for your honeymoon

The ceremony is sweet and casual. Portia's vows are a patchwork of her humor, mischief, and favorite love poems

Julian does his best at a shovel talk. Nadia does a better job. Mazelinka puts them both to shame: "If you hurt my girl, the Devil will seem merciful next to me."

Portia's just excited for this new adventure

Lucio

It takes some time before either of you are ready. Partially because he has a bad track record with keeping his promises, and partially because your friends are cautious

However, he will manage to prove himself worthy of you and eventually even earn Asra's (reluctant) blessing

There is some discussion on where to get married. He's not keen to celebrate in the Palace and revisit his days as Count

But he wants a party. He wants a good party. He wants the best party

He doesn't care about the ceremony as long as it results in you calling him your husband

You decide to keep things relatively simpler and get married in one of the temples in the temple district

To your surprise, Nafizah not only vouches for you but requests to officiate. It means things are oddly traditional, but Lucio doesn't mind because it means he's doing things properly

The party is a little harder to organize. He's not warmly welcomed in Vesuvia yet

This is where you get to see all the ways his life has changed: Lucio sent invitations to every person you two have helped and befriended on your jobs

You set up a big tent in the field behind the Palace and guests pour in from far and wide

It's not the most lavish celebration, but it's genuine and full of love and a new beginning