#Regent Club

[moodymisty]

I remember how you once talked about Guilliman and free use kink on your blog, and that you discussed how he would enjoy just spontaneously fucking you at random points of the day (because its a good form of stress relief)

And it got me thinking. What if it was the other way around?

He’s busy, he’s swamped with work. Even in the rare hours when he’s out of his armour you’ll still find him hunched over his desk, filing some very important reports. And when he finally goes to bed he’s far too tired to do anything risqué with you. Its like his primarch-grade hyperfocus prevents him from noticing when he needs to take a break or pay attention to his spouse, so you’ve decided to fix that problem yourself. When you notice that he’s getting more stressed than usual it becomes a simple matter of locking the door, unceremoniously hiking his toga up, and giving him the Gluck Gluck 9000. In moments like these it seems that you know him far better than he knows himself, so he doesn’t complain. Plus, its quite hard to complain about a surprise blowjob from your darling spouse, especially when you’re one unmuffled moan away from letting some planetary ambassadors find out that the imperial regent can fuck.

HELL YEAH

Seriously nothing beats the idea of just sneaking in one day while he's swamped with dumb imperium business and giving him the dyson powered blowjob of a lifetime.

LET ME AT HIM

[katiajewelbox]

A glamorous Christmas in London! The streets of central London's shopping areas were glittering with stunning light displays for the holiday season in 2024. Pictured, from top left to bottom right, are Annabel's Club, Harrod's department store, the Cartier store on New Bond street, Burlington Arcade, Carnaby Street, Regent Street, the Dior store on New Bond street, and the Chanel store on New Bond Street.

All photos taken by me (Katia Hougaard) in December 2024.

[prismravine]

april 6, 2024

[theonpilled]

reading the wiki page of the "baby" savoia is so funny

[lepetitlugourmand]

Carlton Cannes - L'Icône de la Croisette retrouvée - Riviera Restaurant - Chef Laurent Bunel

La Croisette vient de retrouver son Joyau avec la réouverture du légendaire Carlton Cannes, après plus de deux ans de travaux.  Continue reading Untitled

[therealglobetrekker]

Comparing Cruise Lines in 2025: Which One is Best for You?

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Peter Montgomery at RWW:

Pat Robertson, who was a central player in religious-right broadcasting and politics for decades, died on Thursday. As People For the American Way President Svante Myrick noted, “Pat Robertson was a key figure in the rise of the authoritarian religious-right political movement. He helped build the movement’s massive media, legal, and political infrastructure, which today is pushing harmful attacks on the freedom to learn, LGBTQ equality, reproductive choice, church-state separation and more.” Robertson was a pioneer and longtime force in Christian broadcasting. His 700 Club television show went on the air in 1963, and long after Robertson was no longer a personal force in right-wing politics, the show gave him a platform for promoting bigotry, conspiracy theories, and right-wing politicians, up to and including Donald Trump. (He stepped down from hosting in 2021 but continued to provide occasional commentary.) Robertson was part of a crop of televangelists recruited by right-wing political operative Paul Weyrich in the 1970s to get conservative white evangelicals more involved in politics in opposition to federal challenges to Christian schools with racist policies and in support of anti-choice and anti-LGBTQ campaigns and hard-right candidates. Robertson started to dedicate a portion of his 700 Club show to right-wing politics in the 1980s.

[...] Robertson founded Christian Broadcasting University in 1977, later renaming it Regent University, where he served as Chancellor.  Through its undergraduate and graduate programs, it promotes its founder’s religious worldview. The law school absorbed Oral Roberts University’s law school, which former Rep. Michelle Bachmann had attended. Bachmann is currently dean of Regent’s Robertson School of Government, and has used it as a vehicle for promoting, among other things, false claims about the 2020 presidential election and Jan. 6 insurrection. Robertson also founded the American Center for Law and Justice, launched in 1990, as his counterpoint to the ACLU, and it uses the courts to promote the religious-right agenda just like its bigger brother, the Alliance Defending Freedom. In its heyday, the Christian Coalition hosted “Road to Victory,” then the largest annual political gathering of religious-right activists. When the Christian Coalition fell on hard times, the Family Research Council picked up the baton, hosting the Values Voter Summit for many years before recently renaming the gathering Pray Vote Stand. Ralph Reed, the political operative who built the Christian Coalition into a political force, made an unsuccessful run for public office before founding the Faith and Freedom Coalition, a voter-turnout operation which also hosts its own annual conference for right-wing activists called Road to Majority.

Televangelist Pat Robertson died at 93 yesterday. He left a very harmful legacy due to his unbridled support for religious right policy priorities and set the building blocks for a right-wing media apparatus.

[natalievoncatte]

The yawn stretched Lena’s jaw to the point that she felt like a cat, baring her fangs. Naturally, it prompted a Kara Danvers Pout, which was utterly devastating. Kara looked at her over the top of her drink cup, straw still pursed in her delicate pink lips as she frowned slightly.

“How long have you been awake?”

“I had a half hour nap this morning,” Lena sighed.

She’d been in the office for three days, but she didn’t admit that.

“Leeeenaaaaaaa,” Kara said, drawing her name out into a gentle rebuke. “You promised me you’d stop doing that to yourself. I’m taking you home.”

Lena’s heart skipped and Kara abruptly jerked upright, briefly glancing at her. Lena hated when that happened, when her body betrayed her. Kara meant escort her home; Lena’s thoroughly tired mind had supplied another scenario, one where Kara carried her onto the bed, relieved her of her clothes and dove between her legs, but that was never going to happen. Lena let out a long sigh of resignation, trying to be satisfied with best-friendship.

She hoped Kara hadn’t suddenly developed telepathy.

If you took me home I’d never leave. I could make love to you for a hundred years.

Kara smiled back at Lena’s wistful look. “I mean it.”

“Okay. I can come back to it tomorrow. Besides, I’m too full of grease and cheese to stay awake. Should we…”

Lena never finished her sentence. There was a crackle in the air, a sudden wet smell of ozone, and the thunderous boom that made her ears ring.

Kara flashed in front of her at super-speed, yanking off her glasses and tossing them on the couch in a smooth motion.

Hovering in the middle of her office was some ramshackle contraption resembling a mechanical eye about the size of a basketball that scanned Kara with a faint purple energy ray.

“Kara Danvers. Supergirl. I am Zeglos, Regent of the Alotian Republic. I am calling to you from the home of my people, located in what is to you a subatomic realm we call Universe Q. We need your help, you are our only hope. The invaders are slaughtering us and razing our home. There is no time.”

Kara glanced back at Lena. “I’ll help if I can. Let me-“

“There is no time. You must come with me now.”

“Wait, hold on a second-“

The machine flashed, thrumming as it powered up, and blasted here with a wave of light that surrounded them both, and then in a crackling boom they both vanished, leaving behind the ozone smell and a faint impression of Kara’s boot heels in the carpet.

Lena stared into the empty space for a moment, then shot to her feet, snatching the phone off her desk, where it had lain ignored since Kara walked into the room.

She called Alex, shocked at the blubbering panic in her own voice. Within a few minutes, everyone was there, piling into the room. Lena warded them off from the spot where Kara had stood. Alex was cold and calm, her voice clinical, and she immediately began issuing orders. J’onn took Lena aside and gently asked her probing questions in the manner of an old detective, coaxing every meager detail of the event out of her.

Within half an hour, Brainy and Lena had set up all sorts of equipment around the room, scanning, hoping to find some energy signature or other clue that could enable them to bring Kara back from wherever she’d been taken.

It proved fruitless. They tried everything.

Minutes stretched into hours. Lena was exhausted, heavy with fatigue.

“Go home, get some sleep,” said Alex. “We can’t help her if we pass out on the floor.”

“I’ll sleep here.”

She did, throwing a thin blanket over herself on the couch. It was Alex, not Lena, who cleaned up the Big Belly Burger mess. Lena slept fitfully, showered in the en-suite attached to her office, and changed into an old hoodie that she kept there and wore when no one was looking.

It wasn’t hers. Threadbare, a maroon color faded to a soft red, the back still emblazoned with a cracked and fading Midvale Mathletes Club logo, it was Kara’s. Lena had snatched it from Kara’s sofa and put it on one night when she was feeling bold and then, as now, felt surrounded by it, the oversized garment swaddling her.

And it smelled like Kara, just enough. Kara had stared at her intently for a moment when she took it that night but said nothing, a wistful sad look on her face before the moment was broken by Wynn’s bad joke at the table. Wynn was gone now, but the hoodie remained, just as it had remained when they were fighting, when she thought she’d never see Kara again. She’d worn it then and cried herself to sleep in it.

Just like now.

A day became two. Then three. Five. Lena tried everything, pursued every theory. They called in every favor, human and alien. Brainy tried to send messages to the future. Nia dreamed fruitless dreams. Alex paced like a caged animal and Kelly kept the peace, keeping them all fed, making sure everyone slept, talking things out whenever tempers flared.

Nothing worked.

Lena even tried praying, something she hadn’t done since the last time she was in a small church in Ireland. It didn’t work this time, either.

Lena was seated next to Brainy on the couch, going over a design for a new device to try to follow what was by now a thoroughly cold trail. Alex stood at the balcony door, staring out into a slashing summer rain squall that buffeted the glass with distant thunder and gusts of wind.

The ozone smell tickled Lena’s nose and she looked up, just as Kara took a stumbling step out of nowhere, appearing in her office with an utterly bewildered look on her face.

“Kara?”

Alex snapped round, adding her voice to the chorus. “Kara?”

Kara stared at her sister, open-mouthed, tears welling in her eyes.

“Alex?” she said. “Alex, you’re alive? How is that possible?”

“Alive? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Kara!” Lena cried, her voice ragged in her throat.

At the sound of her voice, Kara snapped around, eyes wide. Her knees buckled and she sagged, almost falling. She stumbled forward as Lena stood and they fell into each other, Lena hurling herself, reckless, into an embrace that revealed too much. She almost climbed Kara, all but throwing her legs around her as well as her arms as she buried her face in the Kryptonian’s neck.

“Oh God. Oh Rao. I thought you would all be gone. I begged them to let me leave but they wouldn’t let me go, I had to…”

“Kara?” Alex asked, cautiously. “Why would we be gone?”

Kara barely seemed to hear her as she gently twined her fingers in Lena’s hair and wrapped her powerful arm around Lena’s waist, encircling and shielding her.

“How long has it been?”

“About a week,” Lena choked out. “I was so scared.”

“A week?” Kara blurted. “It’s only been a week here?”

Alex put a reassuring hand on Kara’s back, standing next to them. “Yeah, you were taken on Tuesday, kiddo. It’s Wednesday, the 17th.”

Kara stared past Lena, resting her chin on the shorter woman’s head, and began to sob with relief.

“Kara?” said Alex.

“Time dilation,” said Brainy.

“They told me time would pass slower up here but I didn’t believe them. I’ve been gone for… for…”

“It’s okay, Kara,” Lena whispered. “You’re okay, you’re back.”

“Eighty seven years, four months, and eighteen days,” Kara sobbed. “It’s been so long, I thought you were all dead.”

Alex stiffened. “Kara. Oh my God.”

Kara buried her face in Lena’s hair and breathed her in, shuddering. “I’d given up. All that kept me going was hoping I could see you again. This is a gift. A gift. I love you all so much.”

Kara still held her, rocking slightly, her big shoulders shaking with powerful sobs.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Kara, it’s okay.”

“I love you,” Kara blurted. “I love you. It’s okay if you don’t love me back, I just need to tell you, I have to tell you. All I could think about down there is how stupid I was and how stupid I’ve been and how none of the reasons I never told you made any sense,” she sucked in a breath as if she’d briefly forgotten how, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

There could be no mistaking her intent. She seethed with it, it radiated from her very bones. Lena hugged her hard, crushing her with all her might as if to crawl inside her.

“God, Kara, I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that. I love you too. Let’s… mmmph!”

Kara was kissing her. Lena’s brain briefly froze, then she realized the full magnitude of what was happening. Kara was kissing her. Kara was kissing her. Then Lena was kissing her back. There was so much in it, need and lust and adoration and an unbelievable desperation, but above all love. Lena felt her heart open as if hadn’t in a long time, like a flower unfolding to receive the nurturing warmth of morning sun.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” Kara whispered when they finally broke and Lena again could breathe.

“Let me take you home,” said Lena.

[now-you-sound-like-a-jedi]

Thinking about how Satine Kryze, founder of the Council of Neutral Systems, designated regent of 1500 star systems, would have been an invaluable asset to the Rebel Alliance.

And, pacifist or not, she absolutely would have joined it. Like, this woman was so angry over some children being poisoned that she burned a warehouse down and set up a whole plan to catch those responsible even if that meant putting herself in danger and arresting the head of her own cabinet. Can you imagine how she would react to Palpatine ordering the execution of the Jedi and demolishing galactic democracy? Satine would be up there with Bail Organa and Mon Mothma in the "powerful people who want Palpatine and his Empire to die" club.

I mean, she would be completely opposed to, say, Saw Gerrera's method of rebellion, but with her connections she'd have the whole intelligence-operation information-warfare thing down, and on that front at least she would definitely not be pulling any punches.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

So @ranharuchiyo on twitter who actually knows Japanese has been translating the chalk images properly! I won't post their exact translations since they belong to them (and you guys should go check them out) but in summary

Ran moves close to people when he talks, he is short sighted.

Kakucho is a prodigy in fighting, he can fight against Mikey and Taiju. He's also Yamagishi's favourite.

Takemichi makes eye contact with Mikey a lot and has a far away look like he's lived his life twice. It makes Yamagishi irritated.

Rindou drinks in the park, then with the homeless, then with people in a betting office and then again at a night club. (How much does he drink????)

Shion gets stomach sickness a lot

Izana considers his tenjiku members to be slaves

Sanzu is banned from meetings constantly for bad behaviour. He meets up with Mucho a lot. (I'm so glad they're still close!!!)

Mucho is the most personable person

Mochi likes yukimi daifuku (looks like some kind of mochi ice cream thing???)

Mikey said he only lost one fight once, to a guy with a regent head.

Draken fights with Hanma once a week, so far there has been 52 fights with 48 victories.

Baji talks to Chifuyu about Ryusei a lot, they say he was flirtatious and a jerk.

Chifuyu is close with Takemichi despite them not being in the same division.

Yamagishi remarked to Mitsuya that he "gets along with everyone" and Mitsuya replied "except you" which made Yamagishi make the wolf in sheeps clothing remark.

Hakkai frequently gets into fist fights with Taiju

Pah chin is close friends with Osanai, who's also in toman!

Peh yan has an alliance with Senju and Kazutora to win over Mikey. Senju is the only one who takes it seriously.

Smiley dyed his hair from apricot to a different shade or orange and then got mad when no one noticed.

(They've left it here for now but if they come back and do the others I'll update it)

[metamorphesque]

Monte Melqonyan/Մոնթե Մելքոնյան (1957-1993)

Honestly, I don't even know where to begin. He's one of those extraordinary individuals about whom countless books could be written and numerous movies could be made, yet still, so much would remain untold. You might wonder, "He's a National Armenian Hero—cool, but why should I know about him?" My answer is simple: if the world had more people like him, especially in today's times, it would be a much better place. He fought for justice, embodied culture and education, and radiated a deep love for his people and humanity as a whole. I believe everyone should aspire to have a little bit of Monte's spirit within them, regardless of their nationality.

Now, it's important to note that some things written about him in the Western press can be questionable and inaccurate. So, I would advise taking most of the information from those sources with a grain of salt.

Monte was born on November 25, 1957, into an Armenian family in Visalia, California, that had survived the Armenian Genocide. From 1969 to 1970, his family traveled through Western Armenia, the birthplace of his ancestors. During this journey, Monte, at the age of twelve, began to realize his Armenian identity. While taking Spanish language courses in Spain, his teacher had posed him the question of where he was from. Dissatisfied with Melkonian's answer of "California", the teacher rephrased the question by asking "where did your ancestors come from?" His brother Markar Melqonyan remarked that "her image of us was not at all like our image of ourselves. She did not view us as the Americans we had always assumed we were." From this moment on, for days and months to come, Markar continues, "Monte pondered [their teacher Señorita] Blanca's question Where are you from?"

In high school, he excelled academically and struggled to find new challenges. Instead of graduating early, as suggested by his principal, Monte found an alternative - a study abroad program in East Asia. The decision to go to Japan was not random. He had been attending karate clubs and was the champion of the under-14 category in California. He also studied Japanese culture, including taking Japanese language courses. After completing his studies at a school in Osaka, Japan, he went to South Korea, where he studied under a Buddhist monk. He later traveled to Vietnam, witnessing the war and taking numerous photographs of the conflict. Upon returning to America, he had become proficient in Japanese and karate.

Having graduated from high school, Monte entered the University of California, Berkeley, with a Regents Scholarship, majoring in ancient Asian history and archaeology. In 1978, he helped organize an exhibition of Armenian cultural artifacts at one of the university's libraries. A section of the exhibit dealing with the Armenian Genocide was removed by university authorities at the request of the Turkish consul general in San Francisco, but it was eventually reinstalled following a campus protest movement. Monte completed his undergraduate work in under three years. During his time at the university, he founded the "Armenian Students' Union" and organized an exhibition dedicated to the Armenian Genocide in the late 19th and early 20th centuries in the Ottoman Empire and the Republic of Turkey.

Upon graduating, he was accepted into the archaeology graduate program at the University of Oxford. However, Monte chose to forgo this opportunity and instead began his lifelong struggle for the Armenian Cause.

In the fall of 1978, Monte went to Iran and participated in demonstrations against the Shah. Later that year, he traveled to Lebanon, where the civil war was at its peak. In Beirut, he participated in the defense of the Armenian community. Here, he learned Arabic and, by the age of 22, was fluent in Armenian, English, French, Spanish, Italian, Turkish, Persian, Japanese, and Kurdish.

From 1980, Monte joined the Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA – I promise to tell you more about them later) and quickly became one of its leaders. In 1981, he participated in the planning of the famous Van operation. In 1981, he was arrested at Orly Airport in France for carrying a false passport and a pistol. During his trial, Monte declared, "All Armenians carry false passports—French, American—they will remain false as long as they are not Armenian." Over the following years, he perfected his military skills at an ASALA training camp, eventually becoming one of the group's principal instructors.

Monte with his wife Seda

After being released from a French prison (once again) in 1989, Monte arrived in Armenia in 1991, where armed clashes between Armenians and azerbaijanis had already begun. He founded the "Patriots" unit and spent seven months in Yerevan working at the Academy of Sciences, writing and publishing the book "Armenia and its Neighbors." In September of the same year, he went to the Republic of Artsakh to fight for his fatherland and its people. Due to his military expertise, he was appointed Chief of Staff of the Martuni defense district in 1992. His sincerity and purity quickly won the love and respect of the local population and the Armenian community as a whole.

Throughout his conscious life, Monte fought for the rights of Armenians, recognition of the Armenian Genocide, and the reclamation of Armenian homeland.

There are various versions of Monte Melqonyan's death circulating in both Armenian and azerbaijani media. According to official Armenian information, Monte was killed on June 12, 1993, by fire from an azerbaijani armored vehicle.

Monte remains a lasting testament to the incredible potential unleashed when the Armenian patriotic heart unites with sharp intellect.

In case you'd like to put a voice to the face and hear about the Artsakh struggle directly from Monte, here he is speaking about it in English.

[wolfjackle-creates]

👀👀 u no what I'm gonna ask right (please more for the uncle clark pretty please 🙏🥺)

What's this? Another 565 words? Couldn't be.

-----

Danny wanted to fidget, only he was floating a foot above the ground without legs. “I can fix that!” He took barely a thought and his human-half bled through to his ghost form—his internal organs started working again and his legs formed as he let gravity bring him down to the ground. “See?” he asked with a self-conscious grin. “I totally have a heartbeat and you have nothing to worry about Uncle Cl— Wait. What do I call you? Uncle Superman?That’s weird.”

Danny’s grin faltered when Uncle Clark didn’t reply right away and appeared to be taking a few deep breaths. “You just. Restarted. Your heart.”

“No I didn’t! I always had a heartbeat!” Danny tried to insist. His uncle just gave him a look and Danny laughed self-consciously. “Okay, fine. But seriously, what do I call you?”

“Superman or Kal. And how about you? Constantine calls you Prince Phantom and said you were thousands of years old when I know for a fact you’re seventeen.”

“Oh, Danny’s fine. I go by Danny Phantom when I’m like this. And dude, I can’t believe my uncle is an alien! That’s so cool. And, wait! The older superboy! He’s your clone. Dani is gonna flip when she finds out. Can we introduce them? They’re so gonna make up a mirrors-only club and talk shit about us and their creators.”

“You’ve got a— No. Nope, later.” Uncle Clark took another deep breath and Danny suppressed a wince. He was so not joining the Justice League after this, was he? But then he watched as his uncle turned to Batman. “Batman, once this gets sorted, I’ll need you to sit Danny down and give him the presentation on secret identities.”

“It’s fine! No one expects the dead kid to have a secret identity. Besides, all my rogues know who I am. There’s no secrets among the dead, after all. It’s my parents and the government I have to keep off my back.”

Uncle Clark took another deep breath and looked at Batman. “Batman, I apologize for every time I laughed at you when you complained about your kids getting up to things behind your back.”

Batman’s lips turned slightly up and he nodded his head to Uncle Clark, but didn’t say anything besides, “Hn.”

Then Uncle Clark was looking at Danny again. “Okay, we’re gonna start over. Danny, why does Constantine think you’re thousands of years old and a death prince?”

Danny sighed. Uncle Clark so wasn’t going to let him get away without answering. “Well, I am a death prince. And my regent and adviser is the Ghost of Time, responsible for upholding the time stream. He sends me to the past or future occasionally if he needs someone to intervene. Your likeness gets carved into a couple of stone tablets and all of a sudden everyone thinks you’re thousands of years old.” Danny rolled his eyes. “No one even asks anymore!”

Clark closed his eyes and mouthed something. When he opened them again, he looked straight at Danny. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. You and I are going to find an empty conference room. I’ll get us some tea and refreshments. And you are going to explain everything. And you know what my day job is, I’ll know if you’re lying or trying to hide anything.”

Danny winced. “Yes, Uncle Cl— Kal. Uncle Kal.”

-----

I guess there's a next

Again, if anyone wants to continue this, go for it! It's so much a back burner fic it's not even funny.

[thesimline]

No outfit was complete in the Renaissance period without headwear, regardless of social status. The square silhouette that was fashionable in men's clothing was complimented by sculptural hats and head coverings. CC links under the cut.

You can find more of my historical content here:

1300s ✺ 1400s ✺ 1500s ✺ 1600s ✺ 1700s

1 - Fae Hair by ImVikai | Male Crown by Glitterberry Sims

2 - Gemstone Crown by Glitterberry Sims

3 - CK3 Royal Crown by Simverses

4 - Knight Helmet (Get Together)

5 - Isaac Hair by Merci (TSR) | Lower Guard Helmet by Moriel

6 - Knight Chest Belt Helmet by Simverses

7 - Short Curly Hair by Buzzard's Bits and Bobs | Floppy Feather Hat by Simverses

8 - TS2 Wawa Henry VIII Hat by Simverses

9 - Ye Medieval Poet Cap by SimmieV (TSR)

10 - TS2 Wawa Renaissance Baghat by Simverses

11 - Physician Cap by Simverses

12 - May Beret by Lin-Dian (TSR)

13 - Dumbledore's Flat Tassel Hat by Philosimy (TSR)

14 - Bard Cap Feather by Simverses

15 - Hat 201701 by S-Club (TSR)

16 - Captain Beret by Valhallan Sim

17 - TS2 Wawa Renaissance Cap by Simverses

18 - Ye Medieval Baker Cap by SimmieV (TSR)

19 - Male Turban by Khadijah551

20 - Mail Coif by SimmieV

21 - Leather Hood by Simverses

22 - Sebastian Rings V1 by Wisteria Sims (TSR)

23 - Lord Regent Ring by Moriel

24 - Howl Ring by Natalia Auditore

With thanks to some amazing creators: @imvikai @glitterberrysims @simverses @valhallansim @lady-moriel @buzzardly28

[ninaslittlewickedplace]

I’ve been seeing some people talk (saw a comment somewhere by @feldspursfiyero ) about Fiyero’s behavior and choices, in particular how his depression and love for animals tie into one another and what his potential backstory is. I have a few things in mind that I’ll jot down here since I haven’t seen too many posts out there about Fiyero’s life before Wicked.

To start, it is obvious that Fiyero is a prince and the heir to the throne. From what we know in real life, being the Crown Prince was never an easy role. Though, I do find it interesting that Fiyero’s choice to act out is more along the lines of the behavior of a modern spare (Margaret, Harry etc) whose life feels directionless in the shadow of their older sibling’s glory. Historically and realistically, the heirs have been relatively good at containing their feelings and attitudes towards their position, but for Fiyero I think there are more layers to why he, the eldest child and the heir, has the personality traits that he has.

More under the cut because I don’t wanna clog the feed. This became longer than I thought 🙃

I do believe there was a time where Fiyero was able to be himself and allow himself to be loved and seen. Being a Prince, his life was dictated by strict protocol and rules by default, but there was once a time where he could breathe and let loose. That’s why he still has the innate ability to know and feel himself deep down, but events in his life have taught him to hide them.

From the Shiz Gazette online (and the books), we know his parents are Baxiana of Upper Fanarra and Marilott, Chieftan of the Arjikis. In my headcanon, his mother is the queen regent, the royal one and his father is the Ozian equivalent of a nobleman. He has a younger sister four years his junior named Arrietta with whom he is very close (she’s my OC).

Having not been raised in the rigid royal structure, Marilott taught his children that there was more to life than rules and appearances. Even if he couldn’t shelter them from their position, he made sure that they got to experience a taste of more “normal” things. Even if Baxiana saw them as her successors, Marilott saw them as his children. Most, if not all, of Fiyero’s happiest memories involved his father.

His death hit Fiyero very hard and is the main catalyst to his evolution into the man we see in Wicked. With him died the carefree boy Fiyero once was. Being fourteen, it came right around the time where he was expected to formally begin to prepare for royal duties and his mother was very strict with him. She had no patience with his slower progression in his studies (which I headcanon to be a combo of dyslexia and adhd) and implemented a stricter study regime, which inadvertently made it worse. He began to develop feelings of inadequacy and low self esteem about his abilities to be a ruler and began to yearn for his mother’s approval. Even if there were times where she was satisfied, she didn’t outwardly show it. Why would she, when royals weren’t expected to show emotion? Every social interaction was a transaction, one where nobody cared about anything but a satisfying end result.

Feeling trapped by his mother, his destiny, and his internal turmoil, Fiyero began to act out. Having partaken in an increasing amount of public events, he became aware that his people were enamored by him. Everytime he ventured beyond the castle walls, he would find crowds of people his age following his every step, listening to his every word. If he could garner attention simply by existing, maybe he could gain their respect by giving something to admire. After all, who could resist being royalty AND being cool?

The Winkie Prince was seen at almost every night club in Winkie Country and Oz, dancing the night away in the middle of the dance floor, winning the heart of every lucky Ozian to be graced by his presence. Every time he was expelled from university, angry students would petition the board to revoke their decision. When they didn’t, his classmates would gather and bide him tearful farewells. The expulsions didn’t both him one bit because wherever he went and wherever he would end up next, he would have an admiring crowd that he could entertain with abandon. That is, until he meets a special girl at Shiz…

Now here is where the real Fiyero fits in as well as the Animals. Yes, things may have been bleak for him, but there were only two places he felt the most safe: Arrietta and the Animal staff at the castle.

Despite his facade being so convincing that even Fiyero himself forgot it wasn’t real, there were times where his old emotions would bubble to the surface. When he was younger, he would burst into tears and as he grew, he would sulk in his hiding spots throughout the castle. Of course, his sister would find him and the two would often sit together, some times in silence and other times, listening to eachother’s woes. She was the only human after their father’s death who loved him for who he was and she was the only person he could be himself with. She had similar worries, but instead of acting out, she turned inward and grew to be an intelligent but shy young woman. She never told him this to make Fiyero more worried than he already was, but she secretly wanted her “old” brother back. The carefree boy who would tease her until she cried, joked until she laughed, and tell stories until she fell asleep.

His other source of comfort, the Animals, are the reason many years later, Fiyero stands up to the injustice against them. The Winkies were known for their deeper connection with nature and Animals, which is why they are so prominent in culture, politics, and trade in their country. The royal family was no different and many of the staff at the castle were Animals, including Fiyero’s governess, tutors, and personal guard. He was most fond of his governess, a kind panda named Palina who stayed with the royal children until Fiyero left for his first university. Even in retirement, she would write letters to her former charges, who never failed to write back. While he was away, she was his safe space, her warm and fuzzy hugs replaced with warm and encouraging words of ink. His tutors, despite instructions from Baxiana to be more strict with his curriculum, had empathy for the prince’s learning struggles and would try various methods to help him learn. They also understood the importance and value of encouragement and would give him small praises and rewards for completing tasks on time or correctly. Fiyero never understood why humans couldn’t be as good teachers as animals and attributed the former’s lack of empathy for their spartan methods.

Finally, Fiyero met Feldspur completely by accident! He had been hiding in one of his hiding spots in the royal stables (which were more like suites for the Horses) when one of the mares found him in the corner of her suite. She knew him and he knew her, so it hadn’t been awkward but she thought she would cheer the teen up by introducing her colt Feldspur to him. At first, the two didn’t see eye to eye, as Feldspur didn’t know why a prince would be unhappy and Fiyero didn’t know why the young horse asked so many questions, but the two eventually warmed to eachother when Fiyero realized that Feldspur actually listened to him. Even if he wasn’t human and wasn’t Fiyero’s age (in animal years haha), he listened intently and the questions that bothered him were asked with curiosity and care, not mocking or ignorance. Fiyero had eventually forgotten why he had been in the stables in the first place, having made a new friend that was on the same level as him. The two quite literally grew up together (and ate grass together in the process) and share a deep friendship that goes beyond a prince and his noble steed.

Phew, that was a lot IM SO SORRY HAHAHA. At that I’m gonna log out and explore this more in fics and drabbles in the future. If you made it this far, THANK YOU and I promise future posts will be shorter 🤗

[malkavianmoods]

High Regent Aisling Sturbridge was Embraced at 21 She should be at the club

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Rancidly right-wing televangelist and longtime 700 Club host Pat Robertson died at 93

Antonia Blumberg and Sara Bondioli at HuffPost:

Pat Robertson, a popular televangelist and founder of The Christian Broadcasting Network, died Thursday at age 93.

Robertson was a prominent figure in conservative Christian political and entertainment circles, and for years promoted sexist, homophobic and Islamophobic ideas on his CBN show, “The 700 Club.”

His death was announced by his broadcasting network. No cause was given.

A former Southern Baptist minister and son of a U.S. senator, Robertson founded CBN in 1960 as the first television network dedicated to Christian broadcasting in the U.S. CBN is one of the largest television ministries in the world, according to Robertson’s website, producing programming in 200 countries and 70 different languages.

“The 700 Club,” which CBN is perhaps best known for, started in 1966 and is one of the longest-running religious television shows. Robertson began hosting the show in 1972 and retired from the show in 2021 at the age of 91.

Robertson founded several other organizations and corporations, including International Family Entertainment Inc., Regent University, Operation Blessing International Relief and Development Corp., American Center for Law and Justice, and The Flying Hospital Inc.

The majority of his endeavors aimed to promote conservative Christian values in U.S. education, media and law. The ACLJ, Robertson’s website boasts, “focuses on pro-family, pro-liberty and pro-life cases nationwide.”

Robertson’s upbringing played a large role in his development as a conservative and a Christian. His father, Absalom Willis Robertson, was a Democratic U.S. senator from Virginia in the years before the liberalizing trend that took place in that party during the middle 20th century.

“Our heroes were Confederate generals Robert E. Lee ... and Stonewall Jackson,” Robertson wrote in an autobiographic article on his early life.

Robertson also pointed to a lineage of Christian leaders in his family as evidence of his inherited calling as a minister. “Although I may have had flowing in me the blood of statesmen, noblemen, and warriors, I had even stronger in me the blood of priests and men and women of God,” he wrote.

[...]

Robertson was ordained a Southern Baptist minister in 1960 ― a title he shed in 1987 when he announced his bid for the Republican presidential nomination. A statement from his Virginia campaign headquarters at the time said Robertson was stepping away from ministry to appease concerns that a Robertson administration would inhibit “the free exercise of religion by any of the people.”

Robertson lost to George H.W. Bush after enjoying some initial success with primary victories in Washington, Nevada, Alaska and Hawaii.

He launched the Christian Coalition, a conservative religious advocacy group, in 1989.

CBN was courted by former President Donald Trump and granted access to the White House during his administration. Robertson interviewed Trump during his first year in office, in a wide-ranging conversation that touched on Russian President Vladimir Putin, former Democratic opponent Hillary Clinton and Trump’s popularity among evangelical Christians.

[...]

Through his years as a Christian broadcaster, Robertson proved himself to be anything but welcoming of those with beliefs different than his own.

The televangelist repeatedly called non-Christians “termites” akin to “a virus,” attacked Hindus as “demonic” and claimed Islam is inherently violent and not a real religion. He called feminism an “anti-family political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians.” In the aftermath of the destruction and devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina, Robertson suggested it was a result of God’s wrath over abortion.

Robertson was also staunchly anti-LGBTQ, comparing gay people to murderers and rapists and suggesting that LGBTQ orientation was a result of “demonic possession.”

Far-right hatemongering televangelist and longtime 700 Club host Pat Robertson died at 93. Robertson ran for the GOP nomination for the Presidency in 1988, and lost to eventual winner George H.W. Bush. 

He founded several right-wing Christian conservative organizations, most notably the ACLJ and Regent University.

Robertson has made numerous comments that have generated controversy over the years, including attacks on the LGBTQ+ community, feminists, Muslims, Hindus, and abortion access. 

🎶 Ding-dong, ding-dong, the bigot is dead! 🎶

See Also:

LGBTQ Nation: Televangelist Pat Robertson has died but his anti-LGBTQ+ legacy will live on

Daily Kos: Pat Robertson, Televangelist Central to Republican Party’s Culture War Agenda, Dead at 93