#at most he was a construction worker but i mean.. p sure that was more of Needing to do it opposed to naturally going towards it yk

[homestuckreplay]

In Another Timeline, I Found A Good Title For This Post

(page 1196-1219; timeline theories)

The pacing of this intermission is kind of unbelievable – double digit pages for the past five days in a row. With that, all four members of the Midnight Crew have been introduced, so I’ve put together this quick table showing some of the patterns we’ve seen so far. About 75% of the time I spent making this was researching hat styles.

Page 1211 was the moment I really bought into this intermission. Up til now it’s been fun, but I have been missing the beta kids. But ‘You're gonna jump to a timeline where he's dead’ has really grabbed me, because this is new – as far as we know, Acts 1-3 took place in a single timeline, where loops are closed and everything’s stable. Now, the possibilities are anything. Calling it now that we’ll learn in Act 4 that a critical earlier event actually happened in a different timeline to everything else.

Also the two of spades turning into Slick’s licorice scottie dogs between panels is a really good bit. It ALMOST makes up for the ‘jack king off’ joke on page 1197, which is probably the worst joke in Homestuck so far.

This page is another highlight! Slick literally did build this town, and it looks totally different from the green-tinged complex architecture of now. I guess this is the flaw in Die’s powers – he can travel to a timeline where somebody is dead, but he can’t choose which one. He’s equally likely to get a timeline where Slick died today as one where Slick died before ever building the town. And maybe more importantly… this page looks kind of like a color switched version of page 248, another wasteland with a city in the distance (although this new one has other planets circling overhead).

So, most likely, Spades Slick and Jack Noir are versions of the same character from different timelines, and that’s why they’re not aware of each other. In the HS timeline, the character becomes a prominent agent of the dark kingdom, while in the MC timeline, he becomes an underground criminal/architect/construction worker on a planet that probably isn’t Earth, and might not even be in the Incipisphere. A city planner would fit right in with WV, PM and AR’s civic infrastructure theme. So the question is, what determines if a NPC leaves the game and returns to the outside universe? And does this mean Jack Noir could also leave, go to Earth, and be the future character who starts off in Dave’s location and flies to join the other three?

It does seem significant that on what’s apparently an alien planet, there is so much human paraphernalia. As well as the Crosbytop and Foxworthy photo, Deuce has a Stretch Armstrong doll. Surely this planet has its own celebrities to draw from. Alchemy still seems likely – Dave definitely has the components in this house to alchemize this doll. And there is a strong suggestion that appearification and sendification could work between planets or into/out of the Incipisphere – page 733 gives a good look at the screen on WV’s appearifier, which could be adjusted to the Incipisphere with the right key. That key isn’t Slick’s spade key, but someone has it. Maybe Snowman or Lord English or Diamonds Droog (who seems a fair bit more competent than Slick). And obviously we know there’s lots of Skaian technology on Earth, but it’s now possible there could be items from this other alien planet, too. Say, rocket boards.

And as a final red string theory (‘Red Strings’ title of DD’s magazine??), Boxcars hypothesizes that ‘you've got to alter the flow of time itself’ to open the Felt’s safe (p.1218). This is a story where one specific time of day has been really important, and has come up over and over again, and now there’s a whole mansion and group of previously unknown characters whose whole deal is controlling and changing time – among other things, these people can decide when it is 4:13 and when it isn’t. Clock faces are the same on this planet as they are on Earth, and the current time is 12:13pm – also the time on Jade’s island at the start of Act 3, for what it’s worth – and Boxcars’ plan to blow up this very important clock feels significant when we know that some places are outside the flow of time of the universe, AND there’s multiple timelines here, which could potentially converge if time is otherwise stopped.

I’m out here getting my head all tangled over this timeline stuff, but the Midnight Crew are not at all. Droog, especially, has this ‘just another day at the office’ familiarity with time travel. He and his crew don’t engage in it at all, but they know what’s up, and it’s no different to knowing what type of disguise or getaway car a rival gang uses. What a fucking idiot, they’ve totally given themself away with this ‘punching me from the future’ move yet again. This moment on page 1203 looks like a stable loop, even if nothing else is – Deuce has arrived after being radioed for backup, and Droog’s trail leads up the stairs, where we know he went after being punched.

Droog and Deuce are both great characters. Droog is like the second in command who’s actually way more competent than the leader. He has clear parallels with Dad Egbert, sort of Dad’s dark mirror, with the same attention to suits and to backup versions of his clothes. Dad also has multiple backup hats, although some are in different styles (p.72), multiple backup pipes, and lots of identical shoes and ties (p.948). We haven’t actually seen a DD analog on the ominous planet – only SS (p.953) and HB (p.957) – so either Dad is going to meet this DD analog, befriend him and be sheltered by him now that he’s escaped prison, OR (more compelling), he’s going to disguise himself as an ominous citizen and BECOME the DD analog in the HS timeline.

As for CD, I just think he’s neat. I love that he’s wearing two hats and one of them is a bomb.

[todayisafridaynight]

I keep seeing those "character without trauma" depictions and they seem like fun but I can't really picture it for most of The Faves... I guess Arakawa would've stayed an actor and Mine would've stayed at his company (or who knows, maybe he would've pursued baseball instead to begin with), but other than that I'm coming up blank...

its hard to imagine traumaless depictions when A Good Portion Of Characteristics are a product of trauma tbf 👁️💋👁️

[hyukmoon]

Class trip.

Synopsis | you're a teacher going along on a trip for a week with your class and a colleague you despised for a good amount of time now. Things turn around and you don't know what to think about him anymore.

Teacher!Xiaojun x Teacher!gn!Reader

warnings | kissing is the most rated things happening in this, all over awkwardness from you, terrible humor, pretty much just fluff and a there's only one bed situation

word count | 2.2k

things to note | this is the first thing I wrote here, so I'm open to constructive criticism, also [P/A] means prefered form of address bc you're a teacher and all that (not proofread yet)

Let’s preface this. You never really wanted to go onto this trip. You genuinely loved the children in your class, but to go onto this trip for an entire week seemed to be a compromise in the least. Neither were the other teachers your preferred ones nor was it your say where the class trip was going to take place. To be honest, you even found the colleague you were going with a bit annoying.

“It can’t be this bad, you might even enjoy it there. Our fellow colleague is pretty to look at and the worst that could be happening on that trip is that one of the children puts their finger into a pencil sharpener again.”, your friend Yasmin and also, teacher said. Your tired face was working, she shut up. Of course, your fellow colleague was incredibly handsome.

You would and could never argue against that, yet every time you heard their kind and expressive voice you felt like you were blinded by the sun. He just seemed to exude everything you lacked. It is not that you weren’t a good teacher, every time you were out of breath or already done with everything only half through the day, he almost smiled compassionately at you sometimes even winked for that matter.

Xiao dejun, who also went by Xiaojun was the topic of your discussion, a man that handsome you wouldn’t be able to make up in your dream and smart enough to make up for every “inconvenience” you faced with him.

Well, he was that smart to bring you coffee every morning into teachers lounge, share his chewing gum with you and sometimes write you notes if you seem stressed. “Jeez, what’s your problem in the first place? I’m kinda sure he is into you. Every time he looks at you, he literally has heart eyes and bringing you coffee every morning? Please.”, she rolled her eyes at you.

“I don’t think so, I just subbed some of his classes a few times. You know how nice he is.”, nervously you now shy away from looking into Yasmin’s eyes.

Xiaojun didn’t like you, you would feel terrible if he did. Tweaks of shame overcame you; this trip was not going to work out.

Fully packed and all over suspiciously you started counting again the fourth graders on the bus while also having a very good view of the chocolate brown hair of the teacher going along on the field trip. This time his hair didn’t fully cover his forehead, his glasses eyeing you as well. Suddenly his hands tapped on the seat next to him. Heat rose up to your cheeks gradually making it harder to move forward to sit next to Xiaojun. “Mila’s parents called me, she’s sick so don’t worry about her. Just sit down [Y/N], I brought some tea.”, he smiled while pointing at his thermos can. “Uh, sure. I have some cookies with me if you want.”, the last sentence closely sounding like a question as you quietly took the seat next to him.

Not only were you now stunned about the fact that there was a possibility for him to view you in a light like this in spite of you being so passive towards him in the past. Yet there is still the lingering feeling far, far up in your head that you were only imagining things and Xiaojun read everything wrong. “Are you feeling well? We can also sit farther in the front if you feel better there- “, he worriedly stroked your shoulder. “No, it’s completely fine. Just fine.”, you interrupted his ramble and put up your mouth into a cramped smile. His eyes returned that favor, crinkling up into a smile as well.

The bus drive didn’t take as long as you might have thought, your counterpart on the excursion was more than enough to keep you on your toes. Casual glances along a few accidental brushes over your hand kept you in your seat. Now counting again all the children in the lobby of the youth hostel you anxiously eyed Xiaojun again. The amount of children matched up, so your job was done for now, you were most likely only seeing them for dinner. The only thing to do for you now was to go up to your room and contemplate how to not have a physical reaction every time your favorite colleague called your name. Very obvious, you had of course no crush on him or anything like that. He was just blessed with beautifully shaped eyebrows and a voice that could make the worst words you knew sound like a ballade. You moved up from the hotel lobby with some of the grade schoolers to the elevator.

"[P/A] [L/N], do you think when I make Lasagna with my mum it’s the same as cake?”, Xia, a girl from Xiaojun’s music class asked while her classmates giggle about her question. A few loud no’s were to be heard with the occasional high pitched laughs from her friends. “That is a very good question I have never thought about before”, you stopped for a second, what exactly does it mean to be a cake? It is still baked in an oven with layers and contains the tomato sauce as frosting? “I am pretty sure it is. Even though I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow though, I am not a baking expert. I promise I’ll look it up for you, yes?”, you were pretty content with your answer. “Hmmm. Okay. They wanted me to ask.” Xia answered while pointing at the three boys in the back of the elevator which earned her some distraught faces from her classmates. The familiar sound of the elevator bell ringed. “Anyways, if you have as burning questions as these please come to me or …, we’re happy to help. Also, if you feel homesick or sick, I’m always in my room, just knock.” As soon as the last syllable was said stormed the children to their respective rooms and left you there looking at their body shaped dust cloud remembering the cartoons you watched at their age.

You walked down the long corridor towards the light brown lacquered door which showed in golden numerals written the 420. Your shoulders visibly sank down, finally you were able to take a nap. The door opened and closed maybe a millisecond later. Seeing a wide back heaving some shirts on to the rooms ear chair made you catch your breath. His glasses missing and his usually kempt hair was now chaotically drifting across his forehead into separate directions. More importantly though, he was most likely about to put on a fresh shirt, and you stood across the dark brown carpet in the door with a perplexed face.

“Sorry!”, you yelled and closed the door to just sink down with it in your back. Xiaojun packing out his suitcase along his pullover wasn’t what you were expecting to after talking about lasagna and wanting to fall asleep for at least good 30 minutes to then decide if it’s worth it to start to watch a movie. Yet you were barely discussing the fact that he was in your room. Neither did it make sense nor were you able to really comprehend the situation right now.

The door opened and you jumped up onto your feet. “[Y/N]? Why were you in my room?”, Xiaojun quiet voice slid through the gap of the door. “I swear there’s an explanation to this. I think they might have given me the wrong keys or something like that, I didn’t look at you or anything-”, he interrupted your nervous chatter to push the door open and face your confused state. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out together.”, the usual quirky smile you normally saw when he was trying to cheer up one of his students appeared on his face. Your breath stopped at the together while a comfortable warm feeling churned in your stomach.

“Then let’s go downstairs and work it out with the staff!”, he gifted you another wink which not only gave you the final confidence to grab onto his arm before heading again into the elevator but to for the first time give him a wink back.

“The school only booked one room for the teacher. I can’t really do that much about it, most rooms are already full and other guests will arrive tomorrow, so I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”, the hotel worker returned to the computer in front of them. “What are we supposed to do now?”, you sighed and gazed at the visibly pondering man. “Honestly, no idea. There isn’t much we can do, so I guess we could talk about it in my room?”

The walk to his room had to be filled with an uncomfortable silence, neither you nor he were able to say something that made the current situation less painfully horrendous. Almost as if the newly gained confidence left your body, you didn’t even dare to make more than an unfunny joke about your nonexistent room or more like transferred room for another alone soul. His room was already coddled with the scent of freshly washed clothes along his close to quiet cologne. “So here we are.You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the ground.”

“This is so inappropriate, dear god.”, you started to sigh again caressing your temples. “Also, no, please take the bed, the school probably forgot to book another room because I said yes to this trip so late.” Even though Xiaojuns throat seemed to struggle a bit with his next proposition, it was still loud and clear what he said. “We can also share the bed... We’re two grown adults.” He laughed awkwardly; you were pretty much speechless.

“Yeah, of course. Two adults. Nothing to worry or think about.”, you tried to brush off any thought you could possibly have about your opposition. No thoughts about his warm breath in your neck while holding you loosely in his sleepy state to waking up to his beautifully messy bed hair in the morning.

“I’ll take a shower if you don’t mind, some of the children were kinda fussy today and I just need a few minutes.” You nodded and unpacked your suitcase, followed by changing into some comfortable shorts and large shirt.

The second you were done; you sank into the still cold sheets of the large bed. He didn’t make you wait for him very long, barely noticeable however his eyes rested on you when he entered the small apartment again.

Neither did it take too long to sit along with you on the bed. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with us doing this?”, his soft voice hit you unexpectedly. “I can also sleep on the floor, or we switch everyday to do it.” You shook your head simply and crawled up the bed to make yourself comfortable under the duvet. “I’m so tired, just don’t steal the blanket, okay?”, barely able to keep your eyes open you sank even more into the mattress.

You really thought it would be easy to sleep next to him, yet the thought of holding his face in your hands didn’t leave your mind. Even asleep he had a stunning presence around him. “[Y/N]? Do you like me?”, Xiaojun turned around to see your surprised expression. “Of course, I do. I just thought that because you were so good at everything, you did all of these things just to spite me.”, you quietly confessed. “[Y/N], I wanted you to like me. You’re a wonderful teacher and I really admire you. You’re so funny with the other colleagues and generally so, so gorgeous.” Xiaojuns eyes lingered on your lips. They stayed there.

“Can I kiss you?” You nodded. His lips brushed softly across your bottom one. You took the opportunity to gain closeness to his warm side before shifting your hands onto his back. Slowly you began to pepper small kisses along his jawline resulting in a small whine from his side. His hands started to wander across your waist to rest on your lower back and pull you in even closer.

Not a lot longer after he started to skim your neck with his teeth. You rested your head now in his freshly scented neck. Again, his lips on yours moving over to just behind your earlobe, nipping on it and breathing into your ear: “Do you want me to continue?” Still resting his soft lips on your ear goosebumps rose up your spine. Waiting for another hint of pressed lips against your skin your arms lethargically crawled up and grazed his cheeks.

“Ah right, the children.”, your voice hitched he was still so close to you. “We could discuss this maybe on a date?”, he looked almost hopeful when his dark and strangely staring eyes met yours in the dim lit room.

“Us kissing and almost doing the deed? Sure. I’m much better at physical presentations though.” You pressed a delicate kiss against his lips. “Since when so provocative?”

“You bring it out in me.” “I’m glad it’s me and no one else then.”, he smiled into the kiss he gave you now. Not long from this you actually found the peace and quiet to fall asleep in his embrace.

[sd1970x]

Marinette, work in progress - Ch4 - BlueCollar

Read also on AO3: here first chapter | previous chapter | next chapter

Marinette took the short path home as she hopped, still transformed, towards her balcony. No sooner than reaching her room, she thrust herself into her bed and her face into her pillow.

“Spots off.”

The suit dissolved and Tikki emerged, hovering about. She was quick to pick up on Marinette’s distress.

“Marinette, is everything okay?”

Marinette turned her head towards Tikki, peeking just a tad out.

"No.” She tersely replied, then turned away again. “I’m not fit to be a superheroine.”

“What? Why would you say that?” Tikki shuddered.

“Why? because I’m not even a real girl and I nearly failed because of that!”

Tikki just stared back, wordlessly.Marinette slowly rose up and sat upright at her bed.

“If being a girl is so much better for me… why wasn’t I just born one? Maybe I should just accept my fate. I can’t win this one.”

Marinette tried to look away as Tikki hovered in front of her, denying her the option to end the conversation just yet.

“Maybe fate has crossed your path with the miraculous because of that? Because your burning desire to be a girl means something?”

Marinette looked back, contemplating Tikki’s words.

“All it means is that I’m a wannabe and that I’ll end up embarrassing everyone who believes in me. Like Alya and Mylene.”

Marinette recalled the conversation back at school lunch. Alya and Mylene sure seemed to think very highly of her.

“They sure don’t seem to think that way, and they should know a thing or two about girl power.”

That much was true, even Marinette had to admit it.

I don’t know Alya and Mylene that much and yet they’ve both already managed to impress me, Alya for standing up to Chloe and Mylene for standing up for what counts in this city. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to brush off their instincts, and take their trust as affirmation.

“What is it that makes you think you’re a boy, Marinette?”

Marinette’s mind screeched to a halt.

I might not be a true-born girl… but I’m not a boy either. What the hell am I, again?

“I… I don’t know anymore.” she whispered and Tikki smiled.

Marinette flared up her computer and started looking at some of her designs. She followed by reading some of her hidden computer diary entries.

The more she looked at her designs, the more she read into her diary entries, the muddier the answer in her mind became.

Maybe these tell the story of what I am better than everything else? What is it that makes a design “a girl’s design”? Or a story “a boy’s story”?

Before she noticed it, it was time for dinner, followed by shower and bedtime.

---

It was the last thing Marinette thought would happen to her. Chloe was the first to point at her and explode into mocking laughter, interrupting the morning’s lesson.

“Look at Marin! What’s Gay-boy doing with pink trousers in class?”

Instinctively she tried to cup her breasts, but they weren’t there anymore.

Oh no… the magic… it… dissipated? But… how? Why?

Soon enough, most of the class burst into laughter. She braved a look at herself and her heart sank.

She was back in her boy-suit, the one she thought she had discarded already. The sensation of body hair that she did not miss, back to haunt her.

Everyone laughed at her. Even her teacher! Caline bustier, otherwise a fair and decent teacher, joining up with class, pointing at her.

No. No no no. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!

She tried to scream, but only muffled sounds came about. She tried to run away, but she felt like her muscles betrayed her. The sounds of laughter echoed around her, piercing her soul.

“Gay-Boy! Gay-Boy in pink!”

She decided she must gather her energy and leave class, but felt herself jerked upwards instead.

Into a seating position, in her bed, covered in cold sweat and panting heavily.

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Tikki flew by, worried.

“It was a nightmare.” she blurted out.

A most vivid one, that’s bound to come to life as soon as the magic dissipates.

Marinette woke up early that day, still exhausted from the night. The sight of herself in the mirror did quite a bit to cheer her up.

It’s not a dream after all. Maybe if I hold onto it, it won’t slip from my grip.

She combed and tied her hair neatly, brushed her teeth and went downstairs to have her breakfast.

“At least you won’t be late today, honey.” Her mom smiled at her.

Having a properly-paced, non-rushed breakfast also proved helpful for her mood. She walked towards school, hoping that the new day would bring relief from yesterday’s battle and that awful night.

---

Mylene was one of the first to enter class, picking up the aptitude test results from the teacher’s desk.

While she feared many things, math wasn’t one of them. The good grades were sure to make her parents happy and perhaps more lenient in letting her go out on more activities like she had wanted.

Then again, someone next to her was clearly unhappy about their test results.

Ivan seemed to be very happy to see her come over, but immediately switched his looks back to his test results and gloominess was quick to take hold.

“What’s the matter, Ivan?”

Ivan paused before spitting it out.

“I… barely passed it. I was this close to flunking it. I’m no good at maths.”

Chloe kept filing her nails as she overheard their conversation.

“Oh, don’t you worry about it, there would still be plenty of higher education options available for people like you.” she commented.

Ivan looked at her, dumbfounded, while Mylene eyed Chloe suspiciously.

What’s she planning? Is it a rare moment of kindness, or a ploy to make things worse?

“ Ecole-de-imbecile , of course. You’ll eke out a meager living hauling boxes for people like me who will run daddy’s hotel.”

And to think I believed it could be the first for even a split of a second.

Ivan grit his teeth and looked like he was about to respond, then looked at his test results again.

“... Up until you become totally useless, at which point you’ll probably find yourself homeless in the streets, your wife dumping you, if you ever had one in the first place. Guess that’s too bad.”

“Chloe, you’re the meanest! Ivan is-” Mylene tried to protest but Chloe was quick to shut her down.

“-a loser, and the world doesn’t need losers in it. Sorry, that’s just how it is.”

Ivan clenched his fist and ran off to the locker room. Mylene looked at Chloe accusingly for a brief moment, only to refocus her attention on following up on Ivan.

---

Light intruded upon Hawk Moth’s domain as his senses picked up on a victim of choice.

“Fear of the future. Fear of who you may become. Uncertainty. Go forth, my precious akuma, let his self-doubt seal the fate for Ladybug and Chat Noir!”

---

Marinette was walking through the corridor, looking at her aptitude test report card, when Ivan nearly bumped into her. She dodged it at the last moment and was quite surprised when Ivan said nothing.

He is usually very nice and polite, despite his brutish looks. That’s not like him not to apologize.

Something must have happened. This doesn’t look good.

Before she had much time to dwell on it, Mylene came about, looking around.

“Marinette, have you seen Ivan?”

“Yeah, he went that way.” She said as she pointed out the direction. “Has anything happened?”

“I’m tempted to just say ‘Chloe happened’”, Mylene replied, “but she’s outdone even herself.

She told Ivan his test results set him for a life of failure.”

“How mean!”

Mylene nodded.

“He deserves so much better than that.”

With that, she rushed forwards to search for Ivan, leaving Marinette behind with more than one thing to think about.

Does this one test really set up our fate for the future?

Of course not! I mean, I’m sure Ivan can change it!

Are we the masters of our own fate, or has it been written for us?

Then again…

She looked at her hands and imaginary boy hands were superimposed on them.

Is my fate in my own hands?

---

The butterfly easily homed on the sobbing student in the locker room, landing on a decorative pin he was wearing.

“ BlueCollar , I am Hawk Moth. Your fate has been rewritten, your destiny now changed. You shall lead a revolution.”

---

Marinette was just leaving class as a confrontation outside on the street drew her attention. It was Chloe and her dad, the mayor, arguing with a figure that seemed like a large and sturdy construction worker.

“Shouldn’t you be doing your job?” Chloe yelled at the figure. “Daddy, tell him!”

“How insolent. I don’t report to you. I’m BlueCollar and I report to Hawk Moth.”

Chloe and the mayor shuddered at these words and tried to back away slowly, but BlueCollar wouldn’t stop.

“Maybe you two will finally do something useful for the people of Paris!” BlueCollar went on and a blue streak of energy engulfed the two of them.

Chloe found herself donning a sanitation worker’s uniform and holding a broom. In a moment, magical compulsion forced her to start cleaning the street, much to BlueCollar’s satisfaction.

Marinette was quick to hide in a nearby alley.

“We’re needed. Time to transform! Tikki, spots on!”

Marinette emerged from the alley, with Chat Noir arriving at the scene at the exact same time.

“Please, Ladybug, Chat Noir, save us from this fate!” Chloe managed to say before BlueCollar’s magical compulsion forced her to tend to her work again.

Marinette barely managed to stifle her giggle.

Isn’t that some poetic justice out there. A taste of your own medicine, Chloe. Maybe a few hours of work would do you good.

Marinette and Chat Noir both hopped on to a higher ground to make plans. Then again, one of them had plans the other probably did not think of.

“So. BlueCollar’s power is making people work for him. We must avoid his strike at all costs.” Marinette remarked.

“We have more than enough work without his powers employing us. But would you like to go for coffee once our work is done?”

Marinette froze in place as she tried to digest his words.

“Huh? Are you… asking me out?”

He flashed a grin.

“Well, all work and no play is a major hassle. I’m a playful cat, try me”

He can’t be serious. My god, what’s wrong with him?

“A playful cat.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And your game is... prowling about, hunting down a superheroine for a superhero.”

“Yep.”

“Swooping someone, from partner to lover. Oh, such brag rights! A game with a prize!”

“I don’t see why not. If you’re into it...” he smiled.

My god. He really knows no limit.

Marinette poked him in his chest.

“Do I look like I’m some prize to be won, partner?”

His smile faded in an instant.

“We save Paris together. Save your romantic aspirations for someone else.”

She then pointed his head towards BlueCollar as he went towards the city hall. “Does this look like a game to you? No? Then this should be your focus.”

Both Marinette and Chat Noir darted down to confront BlueCollar, avoiding his zaps successfully but making little headway.

Chat Noir managed to strike him with his baton, only to feel the recoil as he proved far too sturdy to be impacted. Marinette fared pretty much the same, as he simply flung her away with her own yo-yo.

Making things worse, they were quickly approached by a league of BlueCollar’s supporting workers, armed with whatever they were using for their jobs.

“Looks like we need some pest control.” One of them remarked as he eyed Marinette.

“And a feral cat problem to handle.” another added, looking at Chat Noir.

“Hate to disappoint. I’m fully domesticated. Cataclysm!” Chat Noir called it as he touched the ground, creating a chasm and allowing both Marinette and him to escape to safety.

“Well, we don’t have much time, do we?” Chat remarked and Marinette nodded in agreement.

“It’s time for my thing, then. Lucky charm!” she called it, cupping her hands to grab a falling...

״Miner’s helmet? What am I going to do with that?״

She briefly flicked its headlight on, then flicked it off.

“Okay, Chat, here’s the plan…”

---

BlueCollar kept roaming the streets, until something caught his eye. It was an open manhole in the middle of the road, with an electricity cable running into it.

Clearly, someone was doing maintenance work in a negligent and extremely unsafe manner. No markings whatsoever, no signs to ward off pedestrians and no one to call should help be required.

As BlueCollar approached the manhole, Chat Noir jumped downwards from a nearby building and landed forcefully on his back. BlueCollar fell forwards and upside down, finding himself jammed into the hole, unable to move.

The hole was dark as night, although in a moment he was blinded by what seemed to be a flashlight. A short while afterwards, he managed to see it for what it was - Ladybug wearing a miner’s helmet.

“This site does employ some workplace safety” she commented as she walked slowly towards him. He could only watch as she removed his collar and broke it in two, releasing the akuma.

“No more evildoing for you, little akuma. Time to de-evilize!” she called it, as she whipped her yo-yo and whisked it away.

“Miraculous… Ladybug!”

As she flung the helmet upwards, it burst into a stream of Ladybugs, releasing all those bound to work by BlueCollar’s powers, including Chloe and her father.

---

“Pound it!” Ladybug offered her hand for a fistbump, and Adrien’s was quick to respond in like.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” he offered cautiously.

“It was a close call” she replied, her face showing little emotion, but she quickly softened. “But you do make a great partner. Respect my limits and it will stay that way.”

She followed by a short-lived smile, then hopped away and disappeared.

Adrien’s eyes followed her wake until she was gone from his sight. He breathed in relief, then sighed.

“I guess it’s just partners then. Even if I…”

Even if I want it to be more than that.

I’ve met the girl of my dreams… and I nearly ruined everything.

Is there any way I can get her to see me as more than that? Or are we fated to remain no more than partners?

---

A now de-akumatized Ivan made his way back to class, where Mylene was quick to warmly greet him.

“I’m sorry, Ivan. It’s just one test! And if you want, I’d love to help you with maths.”

“You would? That’s… that’s so wonderful!” Ivan beamed at her words, his joy clear to everyone around. Yet Mylene had more to say.

“But for your own good, you really shouldn’t let Chloe get to you! You’re the kindest person I know and that’s worth so much more.”

“I usually don’t… it’s just that… well…”

Ivan was blushing furiously now as he picked his words.

“I had plans to confess to a girl today and then Chloe just sapped all my confidence.”

“Oh? Who would that be? I-If you don’t mind me asking...”

There was a short pause before Ivan managed to say it.

“It’s you.”

“I was hoping you would say that.” She replied, a wide grin to her face. A moment later, she hugged him tight and his blush deepened by two shades.

“Aww, these two are meant to be together!” Rose said as she dug herself into Juleka’s arm.

---

Marinette smiled as Ivan and Mylene hugged each other, some of their elation sweeping her as well.

Maybe some of our fate lies in the hands of others who love us, that’s not so bad too now is it?

What does fate have in for me?

I seriously hope it’s more of an ‘Adrien’ direction than a ‘Chat Noir’ one!

Chat’s a good partner… and that’s where the line gets drawn.

But Adrien… He’s something special. I got to see a glimpse of a soul so pure.

It’s time for me to take fate into my own hands, and I will.

A girl’s fate.

[physicistdyke]

Transed his own Gender

Dr. Harold P. Coomer is trans, he's worked his whole academic career to make his body just how he wanted it. Now, at age 46, he finally has an opportunity with his work at Black Mesa to get bottom surgery. But his colleague and friend Dr Bubby, who doesn’t know anything about gender besides the strict hetero-normative and patriarchal culture of STEM, objects to the new and risky procedure while questioning Coomers desires to put his own safety at risk all for a silly gen-dar.

rb >> likes!

Link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25611880

or read under cut 

It was both viciously empowering and crumbled him to the core. He had a power over his own body, rare for the here and now in this space and time. Harold had felt this way many times before, an advantage that should be a right. He could relieve his own suffering, but at what cost? The lingering thoughts would stick with him, latching on like a parasite, a cancer. A hand on his shoulder brought him back into his body, a body he’s worked so hard for. He turned back to see his colleague, stoic in expression. Dr Bubby was not good at expressing emotions in a conventional manner, but other characteristics helped to convey what his face could not. Right now the pressure he was applying with his hand on Coomer’s shoulder mixed with how he avoided eye contact told Coomer that Bubby was afraid. Bubby was afraid for Coomer. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Bubby started. Coomer was about to reply, but Bubby’s own racing mind cut him off. “It’s a very experimental procedure you know, I was reading over the cybernetics reports-“ “Please Bubby,” Coomer turned and looked up at him straight on, he saw worry in his friend’s eyes, “I am fully aware of what I’m doing, I have done just as much research as you.” He said these words with confidence. He didn’t want to hurt his friends feelings more, but sometimes Bubby’s ego got the best of him. Bubby took a step back from the other man, as if the eye contact burned him. Harold was one of the few people Bubby could look in the eyes without that feeling, but now it felt like the island of experience between them was distant. He averted his gaze back to a corner of the room, reconsidering his own words and constructing a sentence most logical for the situation. “I just don’t understand your desire to keep going forward with this, you’re already well respected enough.” *** ____________________________________

This would be Coomer’s first procedure since he had met Bubby. The most recent before that was the operation on his chest, he had snagged that opportunity while working on his post doctorate. That was an experimental procedure at the time too, but Coomer’s endless tap of kindness and intelligence had been able to convince his friends in the medical department and their higher ups that this was an ethically sound decision. Even though Coomer himself never wished to study human anatomy, much preferring engineering and physics to biology, the circumstances of his life pushed him to learn more then he wanted to know. This study began the second he got to college, an unaware and afraid young man, he used his own body as test subject. Mixing concoctions that transformed his body and mind. By the time he was applying for his masters, he was a new man. All the insecurity and anxiousness of his younger years behind him, he now shone like the star he was. From there he made incremental and bolder steps in the process of his transition; first with the top surgery as mentioned before, and now, at the age of 46, he was arranging what would hopefully be his final procedure. Black Mesa did a lot of things, and apparently mechanical prosthetics was now one of them. The new cybernetics department had already made wondrous strides in terms of arms and legs, restoring ability to those in their ranks that needed it. These semi-mechanical, semi-flesh prosthetics fascinated Dr. Coomer to no end. About 8 months ago he had started wandering into the department more often. Finding himself asking passing questions to colleagues, asking questions from a genuine place in the heart. Dr. Coomer was open to talk about his experiences as a trans man, but a majority of his peers were always too uncomfortable to ask. They saw it as an oddity within a good man, he saw it as something that helped make him the good man he was today. The gap in that understanding stung Coomer sometimes, and the feeling of isolation sometimes crept up on him. But his smile and the passion for his studies often helped to bring him away from that space. It was about 2 months ago when he picked out a particular team within the cybernetics department, and started to have more serious conversations with them. From a scientific perspective, everyone involved was enthralled by the prospect. Combine that with Coomer's consistent fascination, confidence, and consent, they were fast approaching a place where action could be taken. _____________________________________

Bubby had noticed his friend's increased absence from their own department. Missing from collaboration meetings, not in his office or nearest break room for their usual chit chat. Coomer was an unlikely but much appreciated friend to Bubby. They had met about 10 years prior, when Bubby was nearly done the process of being titled 'a successful prototype'. Coomer was an unexpected ray of sunshine in Bubby's life. Showing him a kindness and understanding Bubby never had the luxury to live with. Being regarded as a test subject and experiment your whole life does that to you. ____________________________________

Bubby didn't know what being trans meant when Coomer first brought it up with him. Bubby, in reality, didn't even know what gender meant. He had a vague grasp on the fact that gender existed. The knowledge tubes his creators attached to him all those years ago mostly skipped out on all topics of liberal arts, humanity, sociology, etc, except for the most minimum required for him to be a somewhat functioning social life form. But what Dr Bubby lacked in those nuanced interactions and social rules, he well made up for in his ability to observe and form logical conclusions (according to his own account). He was aware of the fact that some people were referred to differently. Out of Black Mesas staff, a small minority were referred to as ‘she’. This group had a tendency to dress different from the rest of the staff, occasionally donning skirts and dresses, and varying from person to person on pigment applied to the face. Bubby viewed these people as his equal (or more so equally below him as the rest of his male co-workers, as he was still an egotistical jerk), but he couldn’t help but notice the trends surrounding this group. Bubby heard the back handed remarks, the passing jokes, the tone of superiority made by some of his male colleagues about the fairer sex. He saw the anxiety in his female colleagues when this attitude approached them. He noted the equal distribution of men to women in the ranks of visiting grad students and post docs, yet the stark lack of women in actual professional roles at Black Mesa. He saw the complacency in nearly all of his male colleagues regarding the generally accepted treatment words the ‘fairer sex’. Nearly all his male colleagues. Coomer and Bubby had been working together for a few years, and a friendship (or the closest thing to that someone could get to with Bubby) had started to really solidify. They were on lunch together, discussing the published panels from a recent convention on nuclear physics. Bubby was particularly fascinated in some newly publish findings on strange Beta decay experiments. He excitedly postulated the possibilities the results could mean for the future of the strong nuclear force. Dr Coomer was as supportive and thoughtful towards his friend as ever, but something else seemed to be occupying his thoughts. “Did you read over the notes from the panel on gender issues in STEM?” Dr. Coomer eventually interrupted when his lingering thoughts became too present. This caught Bubby off guard, but he quickly caught up with his colleagues present state of mind, “I didn’t because I saw it as trivial. I mean, it was a convention on nuclear physics, why waste time with trivial matters of progressing social etiquette?” Coomer furrowed his brow and Bubby realized he had perhaps chosen the wrong words, “Well Professor, if you had spent the time to read, you’d realize it was barely focusing on Progressing social etiquette at all. The man they chose to lead the panel was as backwards thinking about women’s role in science as the Pythagoreans were about irrational numbers.” Bubby shuffled in his chair with slight discomfort, he was never put up to the task of discussing matters like this, “Ah, yes. Well that is a shame. Pretty fucked up too… But I’m sure women will find a way to still contribute valuable findings.” “It’s difficult enough already, I’m sick of this two steps forwards one step back mentality.” Coomer was submerged in his own thoughts, barely acknowledging Bubby’s weak response. “Things have barely changed since my undergrad days. I’m lucky I managed to survive the few years I did in academia being perceived as a woman.” Bubby processed this as neatly and quickly as he could. Gender could be changed. ____________________________________

***“What do you mean by respect, Professor?” Dr. Coomer asked, cooling his own emotions. “You know what I mean, you’re already perceived as a man! You’re no longer are seen as a woman and you’re no longer discriminated against. I admire that you’ve figured out a way to jump the backwards system but-“ he was cut off by Coomer. “Bubby,” Coomer looked at his friend, trying to fathom what the hell had gone wrong in that ‘perfect’ brain of his. He finally gathered his thoughts, “I’m not, trans- because I wanted to be respected. I’m trans because I just am.” Bubby ruminated on his colleagues response, “Well fine, if not for the respect then it’s simply conformity! It makes complete sense Harold, science can be a real dog eat dog world. Anything that makes you separate from the norm is just a weight to be lifted.” “What the actual hell are you talking about professor” a tone of anger and disappointment filled Coomer’s voice, “This is some really problematic thinking you know.” Bubby gave a huff and deepened his gaze to the corner of the room, he mulled over his thoughts and tried to choose his words carefully. As much as he hated to admit it, he really knew very little about gender, but his drive to maintain the upper hand kept him from admitting that. He decided drawing from personal experience was the most logical argument to make, “I mean, that’s why I’m a man. I guess I just always assumed it was the same for you.” Coomer’s look of annoyance turned to one of intrigue, it was rare for Bubby to share his more personal thoughts and feelings. Coomer took this opportunity to prod his colleague, “Is that so Dr Bubby?”, he knew how to get Bubby in a more comfortable mindset, “Then tell me, do you feel like a man?”. “What the fuck is that suppose to mean?” Bubby sneered, “I don’t feel like a man, I just present like one. What the hell does feeling have to do with gender?” Coomer chuckled a little, realizing his friend wasn’t a complete bigot, just an idiot. “I say Dr. Bubby, it looks like your creators really didn’t connect any gender tubes to that brain of yours. Did they tell you the you were a man?” Bubby was feeling increasingly exposed and embarrassed but kept his composure. “Those bastards didn’t tell me anything! At least not directly. I popped out of the tube and they just started calling me ‘he’ and I just rolled with it. I thought that happened to everyone! Until I met you,” Bubby finally returned his gaze to Coomer. Slight tones of confusion, fear, and anger made up his expression, “I could tell that it sucked to be a woman, regardless of their extra freedom of expression with clothes and things like that. So it made sense to me that you changed your presentation to avoid the ridicule.” Coomer enjoyed pressing Bubby’s ‘think deeply about something other than science’ button, but refrained and decided to give some explanation. “Bubby, that really isn’t how gender works in the slightest! I mean for some people they’re content with what ever gender they were assigned at birth, but even then they have some sort of emotional attachment or sense of that gender. And for others, like me, they feel a stronger connection to some other gender and they make what ever adjustments feels right for them. With everyone it can be pretty fluid throughout their lifetimes, but it’s all very personal. What gender do you feel Bubby?” “I don’t feel like any fucking gender! I feel like a scientist, can’t I just be that?” Bubby tapped his foot and rolled the hem of his lab coat between his fingers. He was glad he was talking about this with Harold, but it still felt awkward as hell. “Of course you can Dr. Bubby!” Coomer beamed at his colleagues honesty, “Though I don’t think you could be considered trans though, you were assigned Scientist at Birth™.” Cooper laughed at his own joke, which in turn made Bubby relax and smile a bit himself. Coomer placed a hand on Bubby’s sholder, “Ah, but in all seriousness. It’s completely valid to not be a man or a woman. There are plenty of people like that! And it’s also ok to not have any gender at all! You can feel and express yourself however you want to Bubby, and at least I’ll be here to fully support you. I hope you’re willing to do the same for me.” Bubby looked to the side in a sheepish but calmer way, “Well, of course Harold. I guess I didn’t fully understand how much this meant to you. I’m, um, sorry for speaking over you about this.” A sorry from Bubby was a rare commodity. “It’s alright. You were worried about my well being and I’m grateful for that! You were miss informed and kind of stupid, but I’m glad you were willing to open up and have an honest conversation with me.” Bubby smiled and his gaze was finally able to align with Coomer’s again, the feeling of safety retuned and his anxieties took a back seat. “Well, if it’s alright with you, I’d love to help you and the cybernetics department in your research and development. Learn more about the cutting edge of gender confirming surgery and whatnot.” Coomer beamed at the support, “Ah! I’d be happy to include you in Project Black Mesa Super Shlong 3000! I can grab some of the blueprints we’ve been working on right now!” Coomer left Bubby’s office in an excited hurry and would return shortly. In that time Bubby reflected on the conversation. Not needing to be a man or a woman? Not needing any gender at all? That sounded really nice to Bubby. He still had a lot to learn about life outside of Black Mesa and the apparently fluid rules of gender, but he was glad he Coomer there to fill in the gaps.

[aboutanancientenquiry]

“Slaves built the Pyramids”: the “refutation” of a claim of Herodotus... that Herodotus has never made (II)

The Great Pyramid of Giza.  © Sergii Kolesnyk / mauritius images GmbH / Alamy Stock Photo

Why what Herodotus writes about the nature of the workforce having built the Pyramids and about Cheops’ policies is totally reasonable

As we have seen, Herodotus has never written that Cheops (Khufu) used “armies of slaves’ to build his Great Pyramid.

What Herodotus writes is that Cheops “ μετὰ δὲ ἐργάζεσθαι ἑωυτῷ κελεύειν πάντας Αἰγυπτίους” (“then he commanded all the Egyptians to perform work for him”- Histories II 124,1), which means that he had recourse to some form of compulsory work imposed on the Egyptian population.

Let us see first of all how the eminent British Egyptologist but also classicist Alan B. Lloyd comments this passage of Herodotus’ Book II (in D. Asheri-A. B. Lloyd-A. Corcella “A Commentary on Herodotus Books I-IV”, OUP 2006, p. 329):

Lloyd comments rather phlegmatically that:

“...since compulsory service (corvée) was an essential element of the Egyptian economic system throughout pharaonic times… there was nothing unusual in Cheops’ command.”

Alan B. Lloyd. Source: https://www.ees.ac.uk/faqs/alan-lloyd

Moreover, Lloyd comments more particularly on Herodotus’ report about the number of workers ( ἐργάζοντο δὲ κατὰ δέκα μυριάδας ἀνθρώπων αἰεὶ τὴν τρίμηνον ἑκάστην  - they worked continuously in groups of 100,000 men, rotating in three-month shifts - II 124,3) involved directly or indirectly in the building of the Great Pyramid (op. cit., p. 330) that:

“the number is not implausible as a total for the workforce when a maximum effort was being exerted…, but Herodotus, or his source, has misrepresented the system. During the inundation season a large force would be mobilzed to stockpile materials, but for most of the year a much smaller staff was used for the construction work.”

From her part, Joyce Tyldesley writes about the same question of the number of the workers of the Great Pyramid (in her article that I have already quoted in the first part of my text - https://href.li/?https://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/egyptians/pyramid_builders_01.shtml ) that:

“All archaeologists have their own methods of calculating the number of workers employed at Giza, but most agree that the Great Pyramid was built by approximately 4,000 primary labourers (quarry workers, hauliers and masons). They would have been supported by 16-20,000 secondary workers (ramp builders, tool-makers, mortar mixers and those providing back-up services such as supplying food, clothing and fuel). This gives a total of 20-25,000, labouring for 20 years or more.” 

I think that it is reasonable to say that the fact that we don’t know with certainty with use of what techniques exactly the Pyramids have been built complicates the calculations about the number of the builders of the Great Pyramid. Moreover, it is not totally clear how many people were employed not only directly in building activities at Giza (to build the Pyramids, but also the whole complex of edifices around them, destined to the cult of the Pharaohs buried in the Pyramids), but also indirectly, to support the main builders or to extract, collect and transport materials from elsewhere to Giza.

Now,  as we have seen calculations of the number of people employed directly or indirectly in the building of the Great Pyramid vary, but it seems sure that Herodotus’ number of 100.000 people working continuously in shafts of three months is inflated. This should not surprise us, as it is normal to expect that the Egyptian tradition about the building of the Pyramids that Herodotus’ Egyptian sources have transmitted to him would have inflated in the course of the centuries the number of the people involved in the Pyramid building.

But concerning the nature of the work of the people who built the Pyramids, the truth is that there is nothing surprising or controversial in Herodotus’ report that this workforce had been mobilized by the Pharaonic state for compulsory work, since, as Lloyd says “ compulsory service (corvée) was an essential element of the Egyptian economic system throughout pharaonic times” and “there was nothing unusual in Cheops’ command”.

The essential role of compulsory work in the form of corvée in the Pharaonic economy as something distinct from slavery in the literal sense (”chattel slavery”) is not some kind of controversial theory, but a well established notion in modern Egyptology.

Thus, as  the UCLA Encyclopedia of Egyptology explains (The UCLA Encyclopedia of Egyptology, entry “Economy” (by Ben Haring) - https://escholarship.org/content/qt2t01s4qj/qt2t01s4qj.pdf?t=qxvbyl ):

“An income strategy different from subsistence was labor, either voluntary or compulsory. Compulsory labor is known from ancient Egypt in two forms: corvée and slavery. Corvée (bH) is well attested as periodical compulsory labor (especially in earlier periods), and everyone but the highest functionaries could be subjected to it (Eyre 1987a: 18 - 20). In the Old Kingdom, groups of workers subject to this practice were called mrt and worked in agricultural domains founded by the government (Moreno García 1998).  The same word mrt was used for the personnel of temple workshops in the New Kingdom; these were often prisoners taken during military campaigns (Eyre 1987b: 189). In the Middle Kingdom, temporary compulsory labor on state fields was controlled by the xnrt (interpreted as "labor camp" by Quirke 1990: 135 - 136). Even the nmH(y) of the New Kingdom (see Institutional and Private Interests above) could be summoned for service to government officials, as becomes clear from the decree of King Horemheb (Kruchten 1981: 30, 50).”

Of course slavery in the literal sense of the term (chattel slavery) existed and was widespread in Pharaonic Egypt, but most Egyptologists accept that the main form of compulsory work in ancient Egypt was the corvée service to the state (obviously this distinction between corvée and literal slavery is essential for the understanding of the text of Herodotus on Cheops and the building of the Great Pyramid and for the assessment of its accuracy).

As the UCLA Encyclopedia of Egyptology writes in the same entry:

‘Chattel slavery is attested in Egypt from the late third millennium BCE onward. Persons could be bought and sold, and inherited, and may thus be called slaves in the legal sense of the word, although Egyptian terminology is vague: Hm (fem. Hmt) and bAk (fem. bAkt) can both be translated as “slave,” but also as “servant” (Hofmann 2005). Not only could the slaves themselves be sold, but also their services; Ramesside texts refer to this practice with the expression hrw n bAk “day of service” (Menu 1998). From the Late Period onward we know of the practice of individuals entering into slavery by contract as a means to pay off heavy debts (for example, papyri Rylands III-VII: Cruz-Uribe 1982). Although it is clear that chattel slavery was common, it is more difficult to assess how important slavery was to the Egyptian economy. Economic anthropology considers two criteria for establishing the importance of slavery to society: 1) great hierarchical differences among social strata, allowing for the delegation of work to lower ranks; and 2) the existence of “open” economic resources (i.e., freely accessible means of livelihood), without which there is no need for slaves as a separate social category. The extent of open economic resources in ancient Egypt is far from clear, but Egyptologists assume that compulsory labor was chiefly corvée, rather than slavery.”

Egyptian peasants seized for non-payment of taxes during the Pyramid Age. Source:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corv%C3%A9e

This picture of broad use of compulsory work in the form of corvée by the Pharaonic state is confirmed more particularly concerning the Old Kingdom and the period of the Pyramid builder Pharaohs by what the distinguished Egyptologist Jaromir Malek writes about this period and its socio-economic system..

Now, it is true that Malek believes that the Pharaohs of the 4th Dynasty (the royal Pyramid builders) enjoyed a genuine social and politial consensus because of the dominant worldview and political ideology of the Divine Kingship and of the role of the King as “bridge” between the human and divine worlds.

Although this take of his about the social consensus around the Pharaohs of the 4th Dynasty and their program of building of the Pyramids is perhaps debatable, he is totally clear about the nature of the economic system of this period which enabled the construction of the Pyramids (Ian Shaw -editor-  The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, 2000, p. 94-95):  

“Egypt during much of the Old Kingdom was a centrally planned and administrated state, headed by a king who was the theoretical owner of all its resources and whose powers were practically absolute. He was able to commandeer people, to impose compulsory labour, to extract taxes, and to lay claim to any resources of the land at will, although in practical term this was tempered by a number of restrictions.”

Jaromir Malek. Source: https://aucpress.com/product/atlas-of-ancient-egypt/

With this description of the socio-economic model of the Old Kingdom and the place of compulsory work in it, it is absolutely normal that the corvée system has been largely used in the cardinal project of the 4th Dynasty, namely the program of Pyramid building.

On the other hand, Joice Tyldesley writes (in her article that I have cited before) the following about the composition of the workforce directly involved in the building of the Great Pyramid:

“The workers may be sub-divided into a permanent workforce of some 5,000 salaried employees who lived, together with their families and dependents, in a well-established pyramid village. There would also have been up to 20,000 temporary workers who arrived to work three- or four-month shifts, and who lived in a less sophisticated camp established alongside the pyramid village.”

I don’t think that there can be any serious doubt that the mass of the temporary workers described by Tyldesley had been recruited by a system of corvée, as Herodotus writes.

Moreover, I doubt whether the term “salaried” could be used even for the core of the permanent work force and even for the most specialized and “privileged” among them, at least if we understand the term “salaried” in the sense of free work, agreed on a basis of (legal) equality between an employer and an employee: if we take into account the economic system of the Old Kingdom as described above by Malek, the ideological importance for Cheops’ regime of the building of the Great Pyramid and the personal involvement of the Pharaoh in it, then all the workforce used for the building of the Pyramid-Tomb of the Pharaoh must have been seen as performing service directly for the God-King (in the Old Kingdom, the Pharaoh was seen literaly as incarnation of the god Horus). The logical consequence of all this was that the pyramid builders could not refuse or quit the job assigned to them even if they did not like it nor negociate its terms and that they were subjected to different forms of hierarchy and military discipline.

But the truth is that some Egyptologists have a totally different point of view on these matters. Thus, as Joice Tyldesley enthusiastically informs us in the same article that I have quoted above, Mark Lehner and Zahi Hawass suggest that the workforce which has built the Pyramids may have been composed by...volunteers!

Tyldesley writes:

“Almost every family in Egypt was either directly or indirectly involved in pyramid building. The pyramid labourers were clearly not slaves. They may well have been the unwilling victims of the corvée or compulsory labour system, the system that allowed the pharaoh to compel his people to work for three or four month shifts on state projects. If this is the case, we may imagine that they were selected at random from local registers.

But, in a complete reversal of the story of oppression told by Herodotus, Lehner and Hawass have suggested that the labourers may have been volunteers. Zahi Hawass believes that the symbolism of the pyramid was already strong enough to encourage people to volunteer for the supreme national project. Mark Lehner has gone further, comparing pyramid building to American Amish barn raising, which is done on a volunteer basis. He might equally well have compared it to the staffing of archaeological digs, which tend to be manned by enthusiastic, unpaid volunteers supervised by a few paid professionals.”

As I have said, I respect Lehner and Hawass as eminent Egyptologists with important contributions in their field and Tyldesley too is a scholar with credentials.

But I think that their theories about the building of the Pyramids by an army of volunteers is at best just wishful thinking.

This is beyond any doubt the case if we take into account the absence of any mention of such voluntaty work in the Egyptian record, the amply documented widespread use of compulsory work and of its essential economic role in Pharaonic Egypt, but also the sheer hardship and risk involved in the work of the construction of the Pyramids.

To make this last point clear, I will quote what two Egyptologists, Adel Okasha and Dietrich Wildung, say on the lives of the workers employed in the Pyramid building at Giza, as their words are reported in an article of the Guardian that I have quoted in the first part of my text.

Okasha and Wildung say very correctly that the Pyramid builders were not slaves and, moreover, Wildung believes that they were “ordinary citizens, free men”, whereas a better formulation would have been that they were ordinary Egyptian citizens performing compulsory work (corvée) for their Pharaoh.

But what both Okasha and Wildung say on the conditions of life and work of these people is unambiguous ( https://href.li/?https://www.theguardian.com/world/2010/jan/11/great-pyramid-tombs-slaves-egypt ):

“Though they were not slaves, the pyramid builders led a life of hard labour, said Adel Okasha, supervisor of the excavation. Their skeletons have signs of arthritis, and their lower vertebrae point to a life passed in difficulty, he said. "Their bones tell us the story of how hard they worked," Okasha said.

Wildung said the find reinforces the notion that the pyramid builders were free men, ordinary citizens. "But let's not exaggerate here, they lived a short life and tomography skeletal studies show they suffered from bad health, very much likely because of how hard their work was."”

Modern reconstruction of the building of the Pyramids through use of external ramps-Source: https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/ancient-ramp-shows-how-pyramids-rose-from-the-sand-j5vw05705

But let us see now what Jaromir Malek writes on the more general impact of the Pyramid building program on the Egyptian economy and society and the Egyptian population as a whole (op. cit., p. 94-95):

“The Egyptian economy was not based on slave labour.  Even if one allows for much of the work to have been carried out at the time when the annual inundation made it impossible to work in the fields, a large section of the labour force required  for pyramid building had to be diverted from agricultural tasks and food production. This must have exerted considerable pressure on the existing resources and provided powerful stimuli for efforts to increase agricultural production, to improve the administration of the country, to develop an efficient way of collecting taxes, and to look for additional sources of revenue and manpower abroad.

Demands on Egyptian agricultural production changed dramatically with the inauguration of the pyramid building because of the need to support those who had been removed from food production. The consumption and expectations of those who joined the managerial elite increased in line with their new status. However, agricultural techniques remained the same…Irrigation works were the responsibility of local administrators, and the attempts to increase agricultural production focused on expanding cultivated land for which the state was able to provide labour forces and other resources.

This went hand in hand with the need for a better administrative organization of the country and  a more efficient way of collecting taxes…The earlier semi-autonomous village communities now lost their independence and privately owned land practically disappeared, all replaced by royal estates. The earlier rudimentary census was transformed into an all-embracing fiscal system.”

“Considerrable pressure on the existing resources”,  “demands on Egyptian agricultural production changing dramatically with the inauguration of the pyramid building”, ”the earlier semi-autonomous village communities now losing their independence and privately owned land practically disappearing, all replaced by royal estates”, “the earlier rudimentary census transformed into an all-embracing fiscal system”- all these things that Malek describes show that, to support their program of Pyramid building, the Pharaohs of the 4th Dynasty introduced important transformations of the Egyptian society and economy which could hardly be seen as positive and popular - on the contrary, one would be totally justified to describe them as beyond any doubt oppressive.

Much more critical than Malek toward the regime of the 4th Dynasty and its policies and more particularly towards Cheops is another eminent Egyptologist, the British Toby Wilkinson.

In his great work The Rise and Fall of Ancient Egypt (Bloomsburry 2010), Wilkinson gives the following rather bleak description of the realities of the life of the workers who have built the Pyramids of Giza and above all the Great Pyramid of Cheops (p. 84, 86):

“...Throughout the two decades it took to build the Great Pyramid, the construction work was hot, unrelenting, exhausting, and dangerous. The conditions must have been particularly unpleasant down in the main quarry, a few hundred yards south of the pyramid itself. Choking clouds of limestone dust, the blinding glare of the quarry face, the constant din of chisels, swarms of flies, and the stench of sweated labor: it was not a pleasant environment. The rawest of recruits had to serve their time here, earnestly hoping for promotion— and working hard to achieve it. Not that the alternative was any less strenuous. Hauling the vast stone blocks from quarry face to construction site was backbreaking work. Each block, weighing a ton or more, had to be levered onto a wooden sledge, then dragged by ropes along a carefully prepared track. At the end of its journey, it had to be taken off the sledge and moved carefully into position, ready for shaping and finishing. And all this at the pace of one block every two minutes, for ten hours a day.”

“...But even if pyramid building was a form of social security, providing employment for a large proportion of the population, especially during the months of the inundation when the fields were underwater; even if the workers were reasonably well housed and fed, not the slaves of popular myth; even if the overseers impressed upon their recruits the noble nature of the task at hand—the fact remains that the conditions were uncomfortable (at best) and the work compulsory. When royal officials came to a village to draft its men for state service, there is unlikely to have been much rejoicing. Workers sustained frequent injuries on the Giza plateau, their skeletons showing evidence of broken bones, severe lower back stress, and painful arthritic joints. Accidents must have been frequent, often resulting in fatalities. The official record is predictably silent about how many died building the Great Pyramid.”

Toby Wilkinson. Source: https://wwnorton.com/author/23062/tobywilkinson

Wilkinson gives in the same work (p. 77) an equally bleak picture of the policies used by the Pharaonic state of the 4th Dynasty to support economically the program of the Pyramid building, stressing their exploitative and oppressive character (the passages I quote refer to the reign of Sneferu, Cheops’ father and predecessor, but they have a more general importance, and obviously things did not become better for the population under Cheops, with the absolutely unprecedented and  bewildering scale of his Pyramid):

“To fund this massive project, and ensure a perpetual supply of commodities for the king’s cult, an equally vast administrative effort was required. An entry on the Palermo Stone for the fourteenth year of Sneferu’s reign records the creation of thirty-five royal estates (complete with their human workforces) and 122 cattle farms.  Although cattle seem to have been reared in large numbers at the site, the local population did not enjoy the fruits of their labors. Their diet was unusually low in beef and cattle products, suggesting that most of the livestock was sent straight to the royal palace and cult centers near Memphis, leaving the cattle keepers themselves to survive on more meager fare. Even the cereals grown at Imu seem to have been fed preferentially to the cattle rather than to their human attendants. Once again, we see the essentially self-interested nature of the ancient Egyptian monarchy. This was not so much enlightened despotism as despotism, pure and simple.”

“In such a favorable environment, it was relatively easy to produce a surplus; easy, too, for the state to siphon off a significant percentage of agricultural production, by way of taxation, to fund its own projects. The end product of all this economic activity is illustrated in reliefs from the Dahshur valley temple. In a frieze around the walls, a line of female offering bearers, each personifying a different royal estate, is shown bringing supplies for the royal cult. The king was letting it be known that his pyramid was a national enterprise, involving the whole country— whether the populace liked it or not.”

It is not surprising therefore that Wilkinson sees the program of Pyramid building of the 4th Dynasty and especially its culmination under Cheops not as the expression of a “shared project” of the Egyptian society, but as a manifestation-projection of absolute power, its realization being relentlessy pursued through oppressive means (op. cit., p. 87):

“So, if the pyramid was not exactly a national project in which the whole country could take part and feel pride, what was it? The uncomfortable answer is that it was the ultimate projection of absolute power.  Despots  throughout  history  have  been  attracted  to  colossal buildings… The Great Pyramid of Khufu is merely the most audacious and enduring of such folies de grandeur.”

Ivory statuette of Pharaoh Cheops (Khufu)

In a more recent book (“Lives of the Ancient Egyptians” - Thames and Hudson 2019, pp 27-28). Wilkinson writes on the same topic of Cheops and his Pyramid, stressing the colossal effort -in terms of administration, organization, but also of sheer human toil- necessary to achieve the building of the Great Pyramid :

“...Icon of the ancient Egyptian civilization, the Great Pyramid is both age-old and timeless. Its stupendous size and phenomenal precision are bewildering. The statistics of its construction are familiar, but bear repeating. The monument contains about 2,300,000 blocks of limestone, meaning that the builders would have had to set one block in place every two or three minutes during a ten-hour day, working seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year for the duration of Khufu’s reign...The administrative and organizational effort required to realize such an enormous building project must have tested the Egyptian state to an unprecedented degree; indeed, it has been said that, while the Egyptians built the pyramids, the pyramids also built Egypt.”

And he continues a bit furher, describing the scale and purpose of the entreprise, its impact on the Egyptian state and on the whole Egyptian economy and society, and the fame that the royal builder of the Great Pyramid has earned through his ruthless determination:

“To supply the mammoth building project taking place on the Giza plateau,  a huge limestone quarry was opened up nearby, and expeditions were sent by Khufu to secure smaller quantities of costier stone from sites the length and breadth of Egypt: diorite ftrom the souther Libyan desert near Toshka, calcite from Hatnub in Middle Egypt, turqoise from the Wadi Maghara in southwestern Sinai. In retrospect, it looks as if the entire economic and bureaucratic machinery of the state was directed to a single purpose: the construction of a monument to kingship, a “resurrection machine” on an unprecedented scale. So, too, it must have appeared to Egyptians of Khufu’s own time and to the generations who came after. The Great Pyramid gave its royal builder the posthumus reputation, perhaps richly deserved, of a megalomaniac tyrant.”

With what Wilkinson says about Cheops and his Great Pyramid, we are not in fact so far from what Herodotus has written almost 2500 years ago on the same topics...

I will continue this text with a third post, presenting my conclusions and some further thoughts on Herodotus, the building of the Pyramids and the Egyptology of our time.

[orange-waterfalls]

Reader w/wings hc's p.2: lesser- known egos/egos i just didn’t wanna put in the last one

ty @fancybootm for the request!

A/N: IT’S BEEN A WHOLE ASS MONTH SINCE I GOT THIS I AM SO FUCKING SORRY. school is suck. anyways. my brain convinced itself that I had to have the same amount of egos in this one as the last one so shit's long again. I had a bit of trouble but scrounged up enough of them. uhhh I don't... we don't really know a lot? about the personalities of these ones? so I just went with what I thought. for Heistiplier, I like to think Mark in AHWM and ADWM is a completely separate person from Actor. Like until we get to the Actor timeline he is a separate person altogether. Night Guard Mark is like mark from the fnaf musical because i can and fuck you. the egos are very random and from many lesser known videos so uh. you might not know all of them. I didn’t even know all of them at first. some of these fuckers annoy me to no end so I had to make them more likable for my own sanity cjfufydy. I only skimmed through after I wrote so it might suck lol. Uh rated T for cursing. Mentions of religion and mental health. Enjoy!

Y/N(reader) w/ wings headcanons p.2

Ed Edgar saw you as a profiting opportunity.

Bastard only uses you for commercials at first

Wings sell shit, don’t they? Kids are into wings these days?

One day you get pissed and just punch him

He respects you after that…

He’s very loud, of course, and your ears tend to be sensitive

He tries to quiet down when he sees you make a face

It’s difficult because that… that’s just his normal volume

He talks about his son sometimes. Not to you specifically

He gets sad… you still don’t completely understand what happened.

Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t either

You instinctively wrap your wings around him for Safety and Comfort

He is a MAN who DOES NOT CRY but goddammit, he was close 

He enjoys your company

The Silver Shepherd thought he was gonna rescue you

He’s a superhero, he HAS to save you, right?

Nah, you’re the one saving him more often than not

He tries not to be jealous, but goddamn

Your wings are just. So big. And pretty

He’ll complain to you about his girlfriend “cheating” on him

You know the bullshit he pulls, but you listen because why not

He appreciates that you at least pay a little bit of attention

He doesn’t do a whole lot of hero work, but he usually brings you along

Just for a bit of extra support

More often than not, you’re doing most of the work

You let him believe he did something, though

You boost his very low ego, and so you get along

Derek Derekson was a little bitch

Also saw you as a profiting opportunity

Yelled sometimes when you messed up

You took deep breaths and tried to stay calm the first few times

Then you snapped, calling him a variety of... words...

He stopped yelling at you, but not much else changed

You got along well with Eric, and he appreciated you for that

He does care about his only living son, at least a little

You two don’t… talk a lot

He’ll watch you from afar, occasionally

You constantly encourage him to TALK TO HIS CHILD and GO TO THERAPY

You still don’t like him, and he feels the same way

But he’s… trying

Randall Voorhees thought you were badass

He wasn’t as used to magic and weird shit as the others

You were absolutely awesome to him

He’d never seen an angel before!

Even though he didn’t really KNOW that you were an angel

He just assumed and refused to change his mind

Harder to hide you wings in crowded cities, like where he lives

You spend a lot of your time with him cooped up in his apartment

He felt bad, so he rents a mountain cabin up in Albany whenever you visit

You two ski and snowboard look me in the eyes and tell me the bitch isn’t a snowboarder

He’s a construction worker, so he’s usually busy

You visit him on his lunch break sometimes.

The other workers claim to see you, but he’ll always deny it

He buys a pizza whenever you visit and you eat it together

You two are so cute it’s sickening

Yandereplier claimed you as their new senpai

They saw you, you had wings, you were nice

And now you are Senpai

You aren’t sure why you get a weird feeling whenever they call you this

Luckily, you don’t have many friends, at least none that they could kill…

They showed you their weapon collection to impress you

You were scared and also impressed

They take you to a cherry blossom tree near their house

You talk and hang out and eat lunch

They don’t call you senpai anymore and they talk to you normally

And you no longer stare at the blood on their uniform

Night Guard Mark prayed you wouldn’t try to kill him

He might have PTSD from Freddy Fazbear’s

Those animatronics left a mark…

It took a little while for him to trust you not to harm him

When he did, HOO BOY is he a chatterbox

He has so many theories about the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Chain

Dark’s told you not to talk about the actual lore. It might break his spirit

You get very worried sometimes

He looks like that one picture of Charlie Day. You know the one.

Sometimes he gets panic attacks

You wrap him in a cocoon of your limbs and wings to ground him

He likes you for that

You hang out, playing games and watching movies. No horror. Absolutely NONE

You can handle him, and he likes you

Dr. Plier was curious about you

He wondered how you felt about… everything

He asked if you were ok one day and you broke down

He felt guilty and bought you ice cream

He sees you as a sort of… psychological experiment

Like he asks you very strange and slightly personal questions

Ok, very personal, but he’s a therapist, what can you do

He eventually stopped the interrogation and talked to you normally

You get along fine, but it’s kind of the same situation as Dr. Iplier

Chef Iplier wasn’t really all that phased

You were surprised by this because… well… wings

But he just… treats you normal, for the most part.

Sometimes he’ll pet your wings, but only if you let him

He loves how soft your feathers are

He doesn’t make that his entire perception of you

It’s a nice change of pace

He tries to cook for you sometimes, but uh. It doesn’t go well

You’re still confused as to how someone can set a glass of water on fire

You mostly just order take out

You hang out like normal people

Which neither of you are, but you’re both fine with that

Paranormal Investigator Mark is obsessed with figuring you out

Nearly had a panic attack when he first saw you

He wanted to prove the supernatural exists, but he didn’t have a lot of evidence before

And then your mystical-ass came along

Like the Jims, he tried to get pictures, and they all ended up blurry

He threw a fit over it, and you felt kinda bad

You tried to take the picture yourself but it came out the same

He gave up after a while

He info dumps about paranormal stuff to you

It can last from 5 minutes to 5 hours

You do pay attention though, and that makes him happy

He takes you on investigations sometimes

You don’t do much except break shit with those giant wings of yours

He stopped taking you on investigations

Cooliplier is not sure what to think

You have wings! Great! There’s absolutely nothing he can do about that

Not the most normal, but not the weirdest either

He tends to put on a tough-guy persona around new people

You were a lil intimidated

Then you became friends and mans did a full 180 around you

Went from “Your daughter calls me daddy too” to “I’ll have her home by 9 sir”

His personality is sort of a mix of the two

Catch you both screaming the lyrics to Mr. Brightside at 12:00 am

Took you to a mosh pit once

You got kicked out cause of the wings

He felt bad, but you had fun

He teaches you how to dance and roller skate

You also go for rides on his motorcycle

Once you just started flying while he was driving and it was the most fun shit ever

You’re “buds”, as he often tells you

Goopiplier likes you a lot

They like having another not-completely-human creature to talk to

I mean, some of the others aren’t exactly human…

But they’re not the best conversationalists…

Then again, neither is goop.

They mention the Dark Gods ONCE and suddenly no one wants to talk to them…

But you do!! Yay!!!

You mostly just hang out, do whatever

Watch movies, play games, or just talk

They like to draw you

They’re not very good, but you keep them all anyways

Sometimes they do… rituals. While you’re around

You are… a little scared, but that’s okay!

You have sleepovers and act like teenagers

You mock the others and then giggle, getting louder as you go

They’re not that funny, but you had to be there

Elder Jeremiah is terrified of you

He nearly pissed his pants when he saw you

He thought he was finally going to have to pay for his sins

He started crying, and you panicked

Why the FUCK was this 20-something-year-old well-dressed man crying at you???

He dropped his bike and fell to his fucking knees and begged for forgiveness

You felt very uncomfortable with the whole situation

You told him to get up bc he was dirtying up his pants

He eventually stopped crying and you told him you were not an angel

Also not a demon, as you said when he asked

He avoids you, mostly, still thinking you’re gonna drag him down to hell

He stopped the uh. The stealing since you came around

He will hang around/with you sometimes to see if you “reveal your true form”

You haven’t yet, and never will, BUT WHEN YOU DO, HE’LL BE THERE

He does think you’re very nice, though

Preistiplier thinks you’re an angel sent to assist him

He is doing holy work, it only makes sense that He would send a helper

He was disappointed, to say the least

He then came to the conclusion that you lost your memory of being an angel

You couldn’t exactly dispute it, since you don’t remember

So, he takes you on hunts

You don’t do much except make a bunch of fucking NOISE with your WINGS

He’d hoped you’d smite the demons

Or at least scare them, but they know you’re not an angel

He still takes you on hunts because, he’d never admit it, but he… gets scared

You promised not to tell a soul

You confess your sins to him sometimes

They’re usually not what he considers sins, but he listens anyways

He thinks you are a good person, and he enjoys conversations with you

Heistiplier was just normal around you

Well… as normal as he can be

You’d enjoy his company a lot more if he didn’t have such a god complex

You still like him a lot

He likes you too

Even if you did refuse to rob a bank with him

He’s a very… exciting person

Though you don’t really want to be around him when he gets upset

The entire world literally seems to revolve around what he does

He’s a drama queen, and completely feral

It’s worrying at times

You two are normal friends

Playing video games, watching youtube, etc. etc.

You listen to his stories and wonder how he's not dead yet

But you can admit, he's really fucking funny

[helloblobbyblobfish]

Safety in coils

(Anîla refers to the mains humans as “kids”, but they all are in college, between 19 and 25.)

---

The 32 of July

New place, new diary! Hello, four diary, I will call you Helbert. I think it’s a common name for Americano males. Any way, I shall present myself to you to: I am a member of the proud race of naga, but I have yet to receive a proper name, having only 34 year old in human year. I am currently trying to live away from my tribe as a sign of maturity, however. I have decided that I would also record to myself what I am doing for my descendants to know what I did. I decided also, than, given the fact that I will pretend to be a human, I need to write in their tango, so that I would be prepared to speak with them.

I shall also name myself Anîla âbhoga, as respect for my elders, and because I lack creativiti.  I should try to find myself a cave before looking for a house. In all accounts I read, we need to wear “clothes” when we takes our human forms, so I will steal them later on.

See you soon, Helbert!

 ---

2 of august

Hey, Helbert! You wouldn’t believe in the number of kids that went into the forest today. I could have eaten any of them without issue, they are so trusting! But that would end up alerting someone, and I don’t want hunters yet. Americannans; They don’t seem to realize the danger that exist, I was told of their ignorance; but it is really worrisome.

Trough, that mean that I have plenty of Americanans that can explain to me everything. I am even more persuasive that most of my clan, the reason as to why I was allowed to travel the sea unsupervised. As you serve as my “recording devices”, I think I am supposed to give you the description of the youth I have met. They all got to see my eyes and should not be worried about my half-snake appearance, but I will keep a human look next to them, as to not push their limits. I could not make them come back to me at a precise time, so I will put them back under. It would also make them less suspicious of my questions.

The first kid I found was running, and scared. I guess he was lost for a while, and got into trouble, because he had what he told me were call b-r-u-i-s-e-s. (I Made him spell it, I am learning English word I was not told existed. The excitation!) It’s brownish marks that indicate you were p-u-n-c-h-e-d. He also had a similar marks on one of his eyes, but it was black. Apparently, it is black or blue around the eyes, and as such, you call those bruises “black eyes”. He has yellow hairs, with dirt and twigs in them when I fond him, but I clean him. He had green eyes, if I saw correctly, before he saw mines. I though he was short, but all the humans I met were close to his height. He has 19 year, and is name is Noah.

A few minutes after I brought Noah at the edges of the forest, I fond another male, who is named Andrew Evans. He is really different in behavior and look. I did not tell you about the clothes! It is kind of important! Humans wear different “styles” of clothes depending of their ages, gender or role in the town hierarchical structure. Noah was wearing gray “S-w-e-a-t pants” and a red “H-o-o-d-y” with a green stripe. It was way too big on him, so I guess he and his family does not have a lot of money. He also screamed and tried to run when he saw me. Andrew Evans has black hairs that he “greased”, brown eyes, I am sure for those, I thought to ask. He is wearing blue “J-e-a-n-s” with holes he said he made himself. I guess there is a meaning, but I was asking basic questions, I will interrogate the kids more later on.

Andrew Evans also has a silver chains dangling on the side of his pants, a white “T-s-h-i-r-t” who he cover with a “Leather j-a-c-k-e-t”. He also had dangling “dog tags” around his neck, who reached lower than his “P-e-c-s”. They are by two, silvery, oval, and contain info. His “dog tags” were about his father, who got them in a war. Andrew Evans is proud of his dad and wear them. Ritualistic importance? He also tried to attack me with a knife when I met him. As punishment, I kept the “dog tags” I do not understand the meaning of some of the info, like the “AB” mark.

It appear Andrew Evans was looking for Noah, so I showed him the way to civilisation. And then, I heard cries of “Andrew”, because I presume someone went after Andrew Evans. Perhaps they do know the forests are places you get lost in, but none of the kids seemed prepared to meeting me. Are americanos forest really without nagas? How?

Any how, the third kid has a darker skin color that the other two, but it is not as dark as the skin color of the humans who live in India. He had brown hair who looked that fluffy spikes, and I had a hard time flattening, blue eyes, and was wearing another “T-shirt”. They cover only part of their arm, fascinating choice, in my opinion. He also had “Jeans”, but his were gray, and without holes. He wondered where I was coming from as he never saw me, and did not believe me when I said I was a newcomer. To worry about. I simply calmed him and told him where to find Andrew Evans. I was not sure what to ask of him. Except his name, it’s Leo

I ended falling on a fourth and final kid by complete accident, nearly an hour later, despite him apparently entering with Leo. This kid was looking at least a head taller than the rest. His name is Chris. He stated he “was” 24, witch I think is a bit old to call a human, a kid, but I have to look more into it. He is as pale as Noah and Andrews Evans. His hairs are the fabled red, and his eyes remind me of hazels. He also wears a “Leather jacket”, who he kept closed, because he wears nothing underneath, and blue “Jeans”, who should be burned given the numbers of oil stains who covered them, and also massive holes, with is knees basically being in the open. I had to tell him to change clothes, or he would be hurt if he fall. He wasn’t taking me seriously, so I put him under my gaze at this moment.

Over all, it was an excellent day to start seeing what kids human act and look like. I will go into town tomorrow to meet adults.

---

3 august

Well, wouldn’t you know, Elbert, I was using phrasing of a sentence and idoms who sound old, for someone in his thirties. One day interacting in the town, and I already got a reputation as an “old-timer”. Who could have guess? Most people are wonderful, in any case. I also bumped into Andrew Evans, Leo and Chris. They were with another kid in their age range, Steve. He is taller than Leo, but smaller than Andrew. Oh, yes. Evans is a family name rather than a composite surname. My bad.

Leo was still suspicious of me, and I wasn’t able to talk with them. He said something about “stranger danger”. I wonder if he is more afraid of other humans than what is living outside his town. What are humans doing between themselves? It would appear our knowledge of their society is dated. I need to get alone with him if I want to examine their behaviour properly. Instead I met a few adults and discreetly made their door open to me. I did take a trip to the house seller, but I will need papers and money for one. It’s more difficult than we expected when I left my home forest. There is also that man named John Miller. He seems to think I am weak because he can’t see muscle. Probably an hunter. I need to keep an eye on him too.

Wait, there are footstep sounding close. I come back once I saw who is it, and why they are here. What if they already know?

It was Noah! Unlike the others, he still wears the same clothes than yesterday. Truly poor. And because he already saw my eyes, he is so easy to put under. Actually, he is sitting right next to me, and when I took my hybrid form, he was all too happy to snuggle in. Good human. So, because he is really easy to interact with, and he told me he just often goes into the forest when he is “overwhelmed”, he will be my number one source of information! So, I will ask some questions, and note the answers into you, Ebert!

So, Noah Miller! Turn out he is the son of John Miller, who isn’t a hunter, but a construction worker. Noah seem to be hiding something about him, but I don’t want to push. Noah seems nice, I don’t want to destroy his intelligence or his being. So, I will wait till he wants to tell me for further explanations. He also doesn’t want to tell me where do those “bruises” and cuts come from. I am a bit worried for his safety. Does he try to get into fights to prove himself to his father?

Human kids his age like to play something call “video games”. I need to come to his house to play, however. Well, after I ended up asking question, we will play fetch. I heard pets like that, and I might keep Noah around, I really like him. His outfit is one he picked because he wants to cover “them”; Okay. Apparently, “cool” outfits for him show muscle, leather jackets always work, Jewellery show wealth, seem like the meanings are the same as we naga knew, just a bit differently.  Jewelry

Yes, I asked Noah to correct mistakes he saw. It’s useful for my human guise. Also, Andrew is the popular kid who has a bright future. That mean he can get away with selfishness and violence, in this society. I can’t believe it. Well, as a subject and potential pet, I should give Noah a good life, so the research is put on hold the time I get the other kids to respect him.

  ---

6 August

Hey, Albert. Been a few days, but I had to make Andrew, Chris, Steve and especially Leo way more pliant that they were. But today, they will all come to this forest with additional clothes they think would fit Noah and make him looks “cool”, so that he joins their “friend” group. It looks a bit more like a hierarchy in itself, but I will make sure they treat each other better. Win-Win for everyone! I hope I use those expression correctly. Anyway, Noah too got more contacts with me. He seems to really trust me “more than anyone” he says, but he still won’t tell me where his injuries come from. I am a bit disappointed. Seem like he made some strong barriers about it, if I force the answers from him, it would hurt his brain, a lot.

Leo has arrived. I had to get to his parents first, to be alone with him, but heh. I have a bed in their basement now. Leo was really distrustful. Now, he is a bit over-zealous to obeying me, but I don’t see any other psychological impact. I do keep an eye on him for his safety. He also is the one closer in size to Noah, so I expect his clothes to be most of the ones Noah come home with. Leo also make delicious chicken wings.

Now, Steve has arrived. Coming back to my few notes, I forgot to describe him. He has black hair, brown eyes, and the first time he saw me alone I was shirtless and that made him red, for some reason. But he doesn’t want to talk about it. He is 23. He is the drag-along man of his group, and easily scared. It amuses me to make loud noises behind his back. He jumps every single time! Today, he is wearing a sleeveless black cloth he calls “top”, and blue “shorts”. He really doesn’t know how to visit the forest.

Andrew and Noah arrived together. Andrew is surprisingly the one who brought the more clothes. When I asked, he stated he bought them. He is ironically the one who took the most the rings in my eyes, even more than Noah, who I found easy to put under. And I remind you I am strong in charm by naga standard. Andrew is also missing his dog tags. Apparently, you put “blood type” and height on it. I shall ask for their size and weight once I start the experience again.

Well, Chris is finally here. He at least wears something without “sexual innuendos” for once. I’ll admit I don’t understand them. Also, except Steve, they all have a weird combo with leather jackets and ties, to welcome Noah into the group. Really odd-looking, even fir me, and the fact that I wear “professionals” clothes all the time makes people talk. Noah, of course, is wearing a hoody and “baggy” pants. I’ll tell you how it went.

Really well!!! Now, Noah has a collection of “gym” clothes, rings, chains… the perfect “streetwear”, as Chris said. The boys are all very happy playing with the ball I gave them. And they all are super happy when I tap their head to signify that they are good boys. I’m so happy they stopped using gel, I can play with their hairs. But play time is over. I’m going back to studying them and their interactions, so they aren’t aware I was ever in their lives for now. I want to see them act normally.

Wait, why is Andrew berating them all. I understood he was mean to people outside his group, but he is controlling of the people in it? Chris is obeying him without question and making subtle threat for the others three to follow? Noah is afraid??! Leo is just done with this and complaint but does not act? Steve is not shivering like Noah, but I think he is afraid too. How could I miss that, and how can I let this happen in front of my eyes? I’ll be right back, Albert!

 ---

 So, they have been some changes in the group dynamics of the boys. Now, Leo is the leader one. He also asks for my opinion on things and agree that I am smarter and wiser than him, and as such, my decisions are absolute and override his. Andrew is really happy to be led. He takes more easily to my suggestions than the others, so he is “living the dream”, as the “omega” of his group. I don’t know what that mean, he declared himself one. In his opinion, Leo is an “alpha” and the rest are “beta”. Andrew also wanted to classify Chris as the second-in-command, but I preferred Noah, because I have to admit at being biased, but Noah doesn’t want to lead, and Leo will be a great leader under my guidance, and he wanted to be the “top dog”.

Chris is really the one who got the best changes, though. He was really afraid of what to do without someone who use him as a muscled henchman, so now, he can suck up all type of information. His “G.P.A” will improve, thanks to that. We might have a “smart one”, after a trip to the library. And the, there is Steve. I don’t know what to do with Steve. Steve never showed much personality. When I asked him how he would describe himself, he said “gaie”, which mean cheerful in French, is I remember correctly. Didn’t appear that happy for me… Well, now, he is being nicknamed “the cheerleader” by his friends. They will not question the changes, but I think I will have to drop by their parent’s house later.

Well, I’m glad to see they all are having fun. Leo started a “soccer game”. Look interesting. Steve is cheering for them because they are an odd number. He seems decided to compliment Chris on his muscle, for some reason. Well, he also commented a few times about mine. Maybe he just put a lot of attention in physical health. I’m going to watch.

  August 8

At the teaching place the boys are going (I though in English it was called school, but the refer to it as college), Noah is now one of the centres of attention, as a new friend of Andrew and thanks to his new look. Steve convinced him to wear “guyshadow”. Didn’t expect it to work well with the dark lines under Noah’s eyes (named “eye’s bag”, this language relies on such obvious terms, it’s worrying me. Are humans worried about being incomprehensible? It’s probably not the only human one to be this on the nose, but the only one I’m good at.), but now, he has a lot of weird attention from females and a few males, including Steve. I don’t understand why is external looks and money so much more important that what’s inside for humans.

Wait, I hear sobs. Why is Noah in pain?

HIS FATHER WAS VIOLENT TOWARDS HIM!!! THE FIEND! HE DESERVED BEING REDUCED TO A HUSK BY ME! SO GLAD HE IS NOW OUT OF NOAH AND MISS. MILLER’S LIFE!! Now, I heard a mother without a husband faces hardship in this “tolerant” society humans call America, so I will make sure the remaining Millers in town are wall-loved. I think I will move my human place from Leo’s house, he is okay, and go to live with Noah and his mom Susan.

 ---

August 10

Albert, while I was playing with Noah, he called me Dad. Apparently, it means he sees me as a major role model, and it’s a sign of a deep bond, said Susan. She seemed ready to laugh, and also a bit awkward, when she said that to me. Well, I’m glad he thinks so highly of me! I also think highly of my pet. Now, he is completely open to any change in personality or look I ask of him. I have a little doll I can dress and make talk as I want. He is a cowboy, a pre-re-education Andrew, a hunter, a servant. I asked of my sister she send me some jewelry, and now, he has wonderful gold hoops in his ear, and a silver chain with an emerald that he show to no one, but whose touch remind me of how good he is while looking at me... Truly, I am enjoying this study.

---

Author’s note (how do you make italics on Tumblr?): So, this is a story I wrote in Summer 2020 for a contest about supernatural on a hypno-site. I planned to make a one-shot, then I liked the characters too much and started making an universe for them. If you have questions on them, I probably have some answers. It feature no pron, so I though. You know what, I should publish my own stuff on Tumblr. Hope you people enjoy

[whitehotharlots]

Previewing the 2024 Democrat Primary

Within a couple weeks of his being sworn in, just about every person on earth will wish Joe Biden was no longer president. Sure, the few surviving John B. Anderson voters will be thrilled to see 4 years of crushing austerity and half-assed attempts at Keynesian stimulus. But most people will begin dreaming about a brighter future.

Good news! The 2024 Democratic primary field is going to contain dozens of options. Bad news! They are all going to be disgusting piles of shit. 

The “top tier”

While it’s too early to do any handicapping, these are the candidates the media will treat as having the most realistic chances of securing the nomination. 

Kamala Harris

Kamala did not win a single primary delegate in 2020. This is because she dropped out before the first primary, and that was because no one likes her. She has no base beyond a few thousand of twitter’s most violent psychos. Her disingenuousness approaches John Edwards levels: any halfway incredulous person can see immediately beyond her bullshit. She has no principles whatsoever, and while that may be par for the course for Democrats, she lacks even the basic politician’s ability to intuit anything that might, hypothetically, constitute a principle. 

Even better: she is an awful public speaker. She sounds like how a talking dog would speak if he were just caught stealing people food off the kitchen table. She communicates in weird grunts and faux sassy squeaks, which is how she imagines real black women sound like, but something about her is unable to sell the bit. She begins her sentences in halfhearted AAVE, stops and panics halfway through as she realizes that maybe this sounds fake and offensive, and then reminds herself oh wait, no, this is okay since I’m black. This doesn’t happen once or twice per speech. This is how every single sentence sounds. 

Kamala is like Nancy Pelosi in that no sketch show will ever impersonate her correctly, because anything that came close to authenticity would be considered far too cruel. This might benefit her in the primaries, as she exists in the minds of Democrats as someone and something she absolutely is not in reality. Nominating her would be like allowing your child’s imaginary friend to attempt to drive you to the store. 

Andrew Cuomo

Easily one of the 50 worst people alive, Cuomo has a solid chance because Democrats, same as Republicans, are unable to differentiate between electability and self-serving ruthlessness. Cuomo used the deadliest public health crisis in American history as a pretext for cutting Medicaid and firing 5,000 MTA workers, and his approval rating increased. New York Dems are little piggies who love eating shit. If we assume that the political media will continue their habit of refusing to discuss the legislative history of right wing Democrats, Cuomo might well cruise to the nomination and then lose to literally any human being the GOP nominates by an historic margin. 

Joe Biden

The party loves him because he is a right wing racist. “Progressives” tolerate him because black primary voters over 40 supported him, and their opinion is supposedly a magic window into god’s truth. Everyone else can tell he is manifestly senile. I don’t put it above the DNC to pick a candidate who is in horrible health, dying, or even dead--whatever the financial sector wants, they’ll get. But I would be shocked if his approval rating is above 39% by mid-2023, and by that point deep fake technology will be advanced enough they’ll put out a very lifelike video in which the Max Headroom version of Joe explains he’s proud of his accomplishments--that budget’s almost balanced already--but, man, I gotta abd--I gotta abdica--, uhh, I gotta, I, uhh, I gotta move down, man. 

Wild Cards

These candidates would have all have a chance if they ran, but they could all much more easily retire to Little Saint James off of kickbacks they’ve gotten from Citibank and I.G. Farben. 

Rahm Emanuel

Rahm is going to receive some hugely influential post in the Biden administration. Let’s say he becomes Secretary of Education. His signature achievement will be replacing all elementary school teachers with Amazon’s Alexa, which saved the taxpayers so much money we were able to quadruple the number of armed police officers we put into high schools. This will give him several thousand positive profiles on network news programs and the near-universal support of the Silicon Valley vampires who will own 99% of the country by the time Biden’s term ends. They will use their fancy mind control devices to convince geriatic primary voters that Rahm’s the one who will bring Decency back to the white house. His candidacy will be the paragon of wokeness, as expressing concern toward the fact that he covered up the police murder of a black guy will get you called a racist. 

Rahm has a bonus in that Jewish men are now Schrodeniger’s PoC. When they are decent human beings, they are basic, cis white men who are stealing attention from disabled trans candidates of color. When they love austerity and apartheid, they become the most vulnerable people of color on earth and criticizing them in any way is genocide. No one will be able to mention a single thing Rahm has ever done or said without opening themselves to accusations of antisemitism, and that gives him a strong edge against the rest of the field. The good news is that an Emmanuel candidacy would result in over 50% of black voters choosing the GOP candidate--which, I guess that’s not really good but it would certainly be funny. 

Gavin Newsom

Newsom is every bit as feckless as Cuomo, but he doesn’t put off the same “bad guy in an early Steven Segal movie” vibes. He will mention climate change 50 times per speech and no one will bother to mention how he keeps signing fracking contracts even though his state is now on fire 11 months of the year. If anything, this will be spun into an argument about how he’s actually the candidate best suited to handle all the water refugees gathering on the southern border. Look for his plan to curb emissions by 10% by the year 2150 to get high marks from Sierra Club nerds. He’s also a celebate librarian’s idea of what constitutes a handsome man, so he’ll have some support from the type of women who claim to hate all men. 

Larry Summers

I mean, why not? Larry, like most members of the Obama administration, has politics that are eerily similar to those of Jordan Peterson. In normal circumstances, this makes a person a dangerous fascist who should not be platformed. But if that person has a D next to their name this makes them a realistic pragmatist who has what it takes to bring suburban bankers into our tent. If current trends in Woke Phrenology continue apace, Larry’s belief that women are inherently bad at STEM will be liberal orthodoxy by 2023, and his dedication to the Laffer Curve could see him rake in massive donations. Seriously, I’m not kidding: cultural liberalism is now fully dedicated to identity essentialism and balanced budgets. Larry is their ideal candidate. If he were black and/or a woman, I’d put him in the very top tier. 

Jay Inslee

Unlike Newsom, Inslee’s attempt to crown himself the King of Global Warming won’t be immediately derailed, since his state is only on fire because of protestors. This, however, poses a different problem. He’s going to be a good test case for the Democrat’s uneasy peace with the ever increasing share of the electorate who become catatonic upon hearing a pronoun. On the one hand, you need to take their votes for granted. On the other hand, they’re not like black people or regular gays: most voters actively, consciously despise wokies, and associating yourself with them will ruin a campaign even in deep blue areas. There’s still gonna be riots in a year. Biden’s gonna announce the sale of all our nation’s potable water to the good folks at Nestle and some trans freak named Sasha-Malia DeBalzac is going to use that as an opportunity to sell their new pamphlet about how it’s fascist to not burn down small businesses. No matter what Inslee does in response, it’ll end his career. 

AOC

I’m not one of those “AOC is a secret conservative” weirdos, but I am aware enough of basic reality to know she has zero chance of coming close to the nomination. The right and the center both regard her as a literal demon. The party is already blaming her for the fact that a handful of faceless Reagan acolytes failed to flip their suburban districts even though they ran on sensible pragmatic proposals like euthanizing the homeless. The recriminations will only get more unhinged when the Dems eat shit in the 2022 midterms. She will be a Russian, she will be white male, she will be a communist, she will be a homophobe: any insult or conspiracy theory you can name, MSNBC will spend hours discussing. Her house seat challenger will receive a record amount of support from the DNC in 2024 and it’ll be all she can do to remain in congress.

Larry Hogan

Don’t be dissuaded by the fact that he’s a Republican. Larry is the DNC’s ideal candidate: a physically repulsive conservative who owes his entire career to appealing to the most spiteful desires of suburban white people. He’s an open racist in a material sense--if you’re old-school enough to think racism is a matter of beliefs and actions, rather than the presence of cultural signifiers--but his is the beloved “never Trump” style of racism that Dems covet. He’s also a Proven Leader who thinks the role of government should be to finance the construction of investment property and give police the resources they need to run successful drug trafficking operations. Few people embody the Democrat worldview more than Larry. 

The Losers Bracket

These people will have at least a small chance due solely to the fact that the Democrats love losing. They have lost in the past, and in the Democrat Mind that makes them especially qualified.

Joe Kennedy

The man looks like a mushroom-human hybrid from a JRPG. Trump proved that physical hideousness need not doom a presidential bid, but a candidate still needs some kind of charm or oratorical abilities or, god forbid, a decent platform. Joe aggressively lacks all of these things. A vanity campaign would be a good way to raise money and perhaps secure an MSNBC gig, so Joe might still run. 

Mayor Pete 

I am 100% convinced that Pete’s 2020 run was a CIA plot meant to prevent working class Americans from ever having a chance of living decent lives. I am also 100% aware that Democrats are dumb enough to enthusiastically support a CIA plot meant to prevent working class Americans from ever having a chance of living decent lives. If we have some sort of military or terror disaster between now and 2023 the Dems are sure to want a TROOP, and wait wait wait you’re telling me this one is a gay troop? Holy hell there’s no way that could lose!

Stacy Abrams

Never underestimate the power of white guilt. She lost the gubernatorial race to Gomer Pyle’s grandson, and her spiritual guidance of the Dems saw the party lose black voters in Georgia in 2020. Nonetheless, she is regarded as a magic font of fierceness within the DNC. She might stand a chance if she can establish herself as the most conservative non-white candidate in the field, but there’s going to be stiff competition for that honor.

Elizabeth Warren

Liz is probably angry that the party so shamelessly sold her out even after she was a good little girl and sabatoged Bernie’s campaign for them--yet another example of high ranking US government officials reneging on their promises to the Native American community. Smdh. The fact that this woman hasn’t been bankrupted a dozen times over by various Wallet Inspectors genuinely astounds me. So Liz is probably going to run again, and her campaign will be even sadder the second time around. 

It might surprise you to hear this if you don’t work at a college or NGO, but Liz diehards actually do exist. She’ll get even less support this time because there will be no viable leftist in the field for her to spoil, but she’ll still hang in long enough to make sure the very worst possible candidate beats out the second worst possible candidate. Maybe she’ll fabricate a rape accusation against Sherrod Brown. Maybe she’ll spend her entire allotted debate time doing a land acknowledgment. With Liz, anything is possible--so long as it ends in failure. 

Amy Klobuchar 

Amy was the most bloodthirsty of the 2020 also rans. She will double down on the unpopular failures of the Biden administration, explaining that if you weren’t such a selfish idiot you’d love the higher social security retirement age and oh my god are so such a moron you think you shouldn’t go bankrupt to get a COVID vaccine? There’s a non-unsubstantial segment of the Democratic base that’s self-hating enough to find this appealing, but it won’t be enough to make her viable. 

Martha Coakley

She lost Ted Kennedy’s senate seat to a retarded man who was pretending to be even more retarded than he actually was. Then she lost a gubernatorial race to a guy who openly promised Massachusetts voters that he would punish them for electing him. Her record of failure is unparalleled, making her perhaps the ideal Democrat standard bearer for the twenty twenties. 

[voidtekarc]

Damage - Part I

Another week had passed and it was time for Arcuris to check on his mines once more. He put on his suave business and formal suit and walked out to his airship, readying up to soar into Gyr Abania once more. Fortunately the past month for the Garlean had been uneventful, which was fortunate considering the usual death and carnage that followed behind him. He was even fortunate enough to meet a few individuals who did not want to kill him and made some friends for a difference. Overall, he was a little more satisfied with how things were going.

That was until he got to his mines.

The cereleum mining and manifacturing was running extremely slow since construction had been completed. He expected the transition to go a little slow but he knew it should be better than this. He wasn't even sure if any of it had been pumped from the depths of the cavens yet, nor if any was processed. The two guards outside stood at attention as he walked near.

"Boss." One of the guards saluted him as he went by. 

He nodded and gave a small wave before heading inside to meet with the foreman. It was the name he was given by the workers, as he never told them his real name and when asked he was sufficient with being named just that. Things seemed to work better that way. The less details, the better.

He sat down with the foreman. She was an older Gyr Abanian, experienced, and sported dark hair as mounds of paper work were in front of her. She reluctant to speak as Arcuris removed his glasses and sat them on the desk in front of her. He blinked a few times and leaned back in the seat, not saying a word. She cleared her throat and nodded to him, "You are probably here about the production, sir. Well there's been some trouble."

He blinked, resting his hands in his lap as he let her continue. She looked terribly uncomfortable as her voice trembled at his stance. She decided to stop beating around the bush and attempted to clear the lump in her throat, "Some of the workers were assaulted by some people."

"Some people?" Arcuris chimed in finally. His attitude was improving as finally being told what was happening.

"Bandits attacked some of them as they left for home. I heard that Wilmund got hurt really bad. A lot of the workers don't want to come back because of it." She scratched her heard and shook her head, "I'm not sure what we can do about it.”

"Give me names."

The woman raised a brow and nodded in confusion, "I heard they go by the name of Hornblades. They were so confident they even announced who they were to their victims." Arcuris started to get up after picking up his glasses from the desk and placing them back on his head. He reached for the door knob before he stopped when she asked him, "You're going already? Don't you want to report this to-"

"I'll take care of it. Keep the fucking authorities out of it."

She looked surprised and blinked a couple of times before nodding to him, "If you say so, Boss."

It was dusk. The encampment was only a few tents, covered in dust and hides from the recent hunting expedition. The small group six sat around a campfire, eating and drinking from the day's toils as light from the fire shown upon their ragged, scarred skin. They appeared to be veterans of the long war, the one that engulfed their country for so long.

A pair of black and gold metal sabatons stomped slowly towards them through the dark, strolling along casually as the helmeted figure looked upon them. The fire illuminated the skull upon the helmet and all of them immediately snatched their weapons and notched their arrows. 

The leader snarled at the man as he knew who it was, "You. I know you, murderer. One of the butchers of Ghimlyt Dark. Blackskull..."

The man in the black helmet, Arcuris, smiled underneath and bared his fangs. Although they could not see it, they could hear the cold malevolence in his voice, the stabbing anger than resonanted through the metallic amplifier than made his voice into a monstrous, bellowing force, "My reputation proceeds me." He raised his gauntlets up to the man and pointed  the jagged index finger shaped as a talon at him, "I take it you're the big cheese of The Hornblades?" 

The man said nothing as he stared to Arcuris. He held the weapon tightly in his hands.

"So you’re the one I need to turn into a grease spot, right? I mean you did hurt and almost kill some of my men so I'd only fitting I take it out on your hide. Only, I’ll have you pay it back with interest..."

The leader did not speak, only took action. He took a few quick steps and drew the blade from the hilt on his back, swinging downwards. Unfortuantely for him, Arcuris was so full of rage he slammed the weapon away and immediately slashed downwards into the leader. The blade bit through his left shoulder, not stopping until it came to his midsection. He pulled the trigger of the gunblade, simultaneously tearing out through the right side, blood and gore splattering all over him and the nearby gound as the man was torn in half. His insides were now outsides.

"Wow, I didn't think it would be that fast..."

The leader's soldiers watched in horror as their leader, aveteran , a hero, was annihilated, gutted by one considered villainous. All of them, except one, charged at him. Their ferocity and loyalty to their leader was repaid in a torrential hail of rage, bullets, and fire. The gunblade shattered their bodies with bullets and from the feiry explosive blade that was swung, scorching and slicing through them as they fell one by one. One crawled away heavily wounded only to have the gunblade jab right through his head, blood splattering violently before being yanked out as bits of their head slopped to ground. They were all dead except one.

The other hid in one of the nearby tents, which he rolled his shoulders and carried the blood caked blade within his hand. He could see the person through the heat signature scanner within his helmet but she didn't know that. She only heard the thudding off heavy boots coming towards them. It was her impending doom. He ripped down the opening to the tent to see the woman shivering in fear. 

Her weapon was not even next to her as she held up her hands in terror. She didn’t appear to be very old, only in her early twenties and most likely made bad choices out of her control to end up here. She screamed, begging to the giant walking mound of murderous metal, "P-p-please d-don't for the love of everything please!" Tears were raining from her eyes. She was quaking as he came closer to her, "I only was paid to provide for my family! My mother is sick and my siblings are starving and I had to do it. I had no choice you have to believe me!"

He raised his head, placing the weapon on his back as he dripped blood onto the skins lining the floor of the tent, "Oh, someone paid you? Now who went and did something that fucking stupid?" He casually sat down beside her and tilted his head to her, still draining viscera onto the floor. He raised a leg up before putting his arm on it as he relaxed, "So, who did hire you?"

"I'll give you whatever you need, I'll tell you everything, just please don't kill me!"

He grinned underneath of his helmet, "I'm all ears."

[pilferingapples]

Shoelace Fandom!!! Shoelace Fandom!!! Aaa okay, Nerval or Borel? Or if you want, Feuilly for Les Mis? :D

 He Just oh wow Many Lots , thank you for the distraction!

Borel:

First impression: I’m certain it was just reading someone mention on a post that he was something of an inspiration for Bahorel’s character.  I thought “ oh, I love Bahorel, that’s so funny , I should look into that.”  

Impression now-  WELL GEE HE SURE AS HECK WAS I FRIGGING GUESS , who gave this fictional character a gateway into existing in real life?? how was this an actual person?? ..also, following on that: how did this apparently somehow For Real Actual Person who was, by the account of pretty much everyone who even saw him across a crowded theater just once, one of the loudest, most noticeable, most standout people in a movement full of incredibly noticeable people managed to just do a History Fade?? if it weren’t a few minor historical artifacts I’d be half convinced he was a persona the Young Romantics made up as a symbol and group pseudonym for their most controversial work!  

Favorite moment: ...the guy is nothing but Alarming Stories By Friends but I think him demolition-ing his own construction project because someone wanted it to look Neoclassical  is surely one of the best, even if it is apocryphal (and I don’t know that it is even!! we all know he would! ) 

Idea for a story: ...what could I even make up about him as a person/character that people don’t already say he actually diduh Sentaii AU? Sentai AU. The Jeunes France as a whole are so prime for it , anyway- they even color coded themselves! how often are historical groups that convenient for us, really XD

Unpopular opinion: definitely not uncommon in our tiny cenacle , but I think his role in the Romanticist /weirdo artist community is still underestimated--extremely so, even. but if I get into that more, this will get WAY too long for a three character ask game..!XD

Favorite relationship:  ...dang it I really  want to know more about him and Gerard , they seem to have been incredibly close for a while in a very particular way (and no I do not mean just  ‘ probably they were sleeping together’ , that’s almost a given in this group, but they seem to have had a particular...I don’t know, Understanding Of Mutual Strangeness? , that really stands out between two people who were, yes,both notably Unusual but in very different ways)

Favorite headcanon- I appreciate how we all seem to have accepted that Petrus Borel Never Dies, he will Forever Appear Bearing Illegal Literature In Times of Social Disorder.  It’s What He’d Want. 

Nerval

First impression-  this one I actually heard about outside of LM fandom first...as “ the guy with the lobster” .  Well. 

Impression now-- oh geez I’m super emotional about him, BUT:  I think he’s been unfairly treated by even a lot of his post-death fans in being reduced to a Tragic Figure?  Reading his own actual work, and even his personal letters, he’s strikingly funny, self-aware, and aggressively engaged with the world in a way I often find missing from writers considered to be more “ realistic” .  I admire the hell out of how he managed to write out so much of his own vision of the world and stay so curious and involved in life while dealing with severe untreatable mental health issues and  the nightmareverse that was the first-half-of-19C France.  

Favorite moment-  LET’S GO TO OLYMPUS , it’s just one God Mountain, how far can it be?? 

Idea for a story- ..listen if I could work out how I want a Magnus Archives AU to resolve--- ! but I can’t! but I keep thinking about it!! 

Unpopular opinion-  I really do not like the way he gets talked about as a Helpless Tragic Figure? He managed to have a full, independent life, travel, write, work with some of the most famous people of his day, and was a central figure in his own community,while dealing not only with the problem of his mental illness but the really terrifying situation of how people in the 19th century treated people with mental illness. I get exhausted dealing with ableism now, he was out there looking people in the eye who knew  he’d been institutionalized and were openly surprised he was out again and he was still demanding respect. Badass.  

Favorite relationship- see above, but I also want to know more about his relationship with his mother’s family, especially his aunt? 

Favorite headcanon- He Just Turned Into a Bird And Flew Away, Okay  

Feuilly:

First impression

“ ...why is he so hung up on Poland? Is he Okay?”  (listen, I was 21, I am a USAn, my knowledge of international history was Not Super) 

Impression now

We should cut all Gillenormand’s big speeches and give the pagetime to Feuilly to talk about International Affairs. No but seriously, he’s come to have such a distinct personality to me through his Symbolism and his tiny moments in the barricade sequence ! I love him, he deserves More Time-- and yet I realize if Hugo actually put More Time into writing a specific worker that would probably have been Not Great, so...good job knowing your limits on this maybe, Hugo??(also I remain baffled that an Orphan With A Mysterious Past in a sprawling 19C novel never has that past examined even a little , he’s just an orphan! we don’t know why! we never learn anything about his family!  it’s practically daring.) 

Favorite moment

His sense of betrayal at the barricade!  It’s such an idealistic moment--even after 1830, he really expected the high-profile republican leadership to come through for them!-- and I really appreciate that at least one of the fighters there gets to be angry that they’ve been left out to dry (they were! they really were!)  instead of needing to be Better Than That. 

Idea for a story

..if I were going to try to write fic, I would probably try to write the series where Feuilly has Various Roommates, with Hilarious Results :D I’d also love more research-powered fic about him in his life outside the Amis group? the One Guy in the atelier (who’s not the boss/shop owner) is a really interesting hook!

Unpopular opinion

..I don’t think of him as a redhead, still :P --Is it still Relatively Unpopular to think that Feuilly is  popular?  I don’t think he’s an isolated person outside of Les Amis at all; he’s a community-minded guy who cares warmly about other people and seems like he’s especially concerned with the situation for immigrants, there are surely more invitations and requests for his company than he can ever answer on his schedule.

Favorite relationship

--with Enjolras, both for what (tragically little ) we see of it, and for the sheer Symbolism XD

Favorite headcanonPractically everything about Feuilly’s life is headcanon!XD-but probably my favorite is that he’s an oblivious Neighborhood Dreamboat with a dozen people swooning over him. He doesn’t mind! He doesn’t notice! He thinks it’s just great how everyone in his apartment is happy to talk about international justice! 

[askmicrowaveayem]

What exactly did he do? Considering "I am making you do nothing you would otherwise dislike doing", it doesn't seem like he would have done much to make others dislike him as much as they seem to. Did he do something bad that hasn't been mentioned? Alphys's panic seems a bit extreme, unless she had some experience that hasn't been mentioned with him that'd make her panic upon seeing him. Oh, and how, when, under what circumstances did anybody figure out that Aes was influencing them? (pt 4 of 7)

Incidentally, how much explanation did that world's Sans and Papyrus give her on what the other S, P and G told them? "“It isn’t my magic,” he said, “it is a magic; a concept this world has long forgotten" - so there was a time when it wasn't forgotten, hmm? And a certain pair of Gasters have a time machine... not sure why they'd go there, but could be an interesting time for them to wind up in. Also I'm curious about "food full of love" being said "like a foreign phrase". (part 5 of 7)          

so the thing is, I don’t necessarily dislike doing construction. I do it willingly and sometimes very aggressively! but that doesn’t mean I want someone to be able to tell me go do construction and all the time.

It’s not necessarily that he did something to make people dislike him. It’s more that he had power over them that they had no control over. I’m not really explaining this very well, mmm

when I was in college, I was real ass depressed. I was often in the type of bad mood that wasn’t really even a mood as much as a physical crankiness that I tried to tone down and pretend didn’t exist when encountering other people.

My college also unfortunately had a habit of chalking the sidewalks. Everywhere. They were ads, announcements for events, doodles-- and encouraging messages.

I remember one point where one organization covered the entire campus with comforting phrases like “You can do it!” “Smile you’re beautiful” “you can do anything you set out to accomplish” “This will all pass eventually” ; You know, empty platitudes.

One of the “smile youre baeitufl” or “youre so brave!!” ones was Right. Outside. My. Dorm. Every time I exited the door i most commonly exited, I would pass that message, and the only thing that very nice bland message elicited in me was Fury. Not even a fury I could enjoy, because, again, Depressed and so I would feel the screaming but without the emotional release.

like, you need to have negative emotions sometimes, and wildly all these positive phrases were unintentionally shaming me into being That Angry Person on A Happy Happy Campus.

but you want to be happy! If you had the choice, anyone would choose to be happy!

but it doesn’t work like that. You cannot be happy and content literally all of the time, it’s just physically impossible, and pretending to be that way all the time comes with a mental strain that eventually leads towards big ass breakdowns over ‘absolutely nothing.’ This is usually what Linda is actually mad about when venting her anger on retail workers. 

And then there is Aes, whose magic makes it so you can be content all the time. Happy, even. Everyone who works for him is chill. no one wants to leave really. people actively seek Aes out in Hotland sometimes because it’s so much easier to be chill and kinda high maybe than to deal with the reality of an inescapable slow death beneath a mountain.

Alphys was one of the workers. She came and partook, and she stayed until the last day when Aes walked into the CORE. And then the spell was broken, and she had spent years of her life and scientific research building this machine that... she didn’t even understand. It was working, sure, the Underground had electricity, but no one had been given a blueprint. No one knew the full shape of it-- everyone had been working on their own pieces automatically, without any need for instruction!

That’s scary. Maybe nothing ‘bad’ actually happened, but that doesn’t mean that years didn’t pass and she barely remembers a variation in her days, or emotions, or life, for all those years on autopilot.

And then, of course, you have Sans and Papyrus, who were young and in need when Aes took them in. Papyrus isn’t even young enough to walk on his own or talk-- he’s still swaddled up.

What happens when you grow up without adversity, or negative emotions, or even being able to watch someone model those behaviors for you?

What happens when you’re in that state for years, and have been content for so long, and then suddenly, the person who’d been protecting you from literally everything has left of their own will, and you are injured, and for the first time in your life, you realize there will never be any stars above you?

[justgottafinishthischapter]

Making a Fictional Language

So you’re writing a story where you want to create a fictional language. That’s great. Only problem is, you’re not quite sure how to go about it. Fear not, I have a few tricks up my sleeve that I use myself when constructing a language. Now of course, before we can discuss how to build a conlang, it’s worth mentioning what a conlang is.

The term “Conlang” is short-hand for Constructed Language. What this means is that the language is fully realized and fully formed with proper grammar, an expansive dictionary, and could theoretically be learned and used in day-to-day conversation. A Conlang is not a real language. It doesn’t exist in our real world. But it’s well formed enough that it could be learned and spoken with a wide reach of use. Examples of Conlangs include Klingon, High Valyrian, Dothraki, and Na’vi. There are some lesser forms of Conlangs such as Functional Languages. That is, languages that exist only to say a few words. Before being turned into an official language for the show, Valyrian had very few words. It was the job of a linguist to construct a language around the fundamentals that George established in his books. Another example is Atlantean from the Disney movie Atlantis: the Lost Empire. There is just as much Atlantean as needed for the script and nothing else, and if you wanted to learn the Atlantean word for fire, you’ve gotten your hopes up for nothing. Some are also simply text-based, such as Hylian in the Legend of Zelda. It uses different symbols, but it all directly translates to the Japanese language, making it just a re-skinned version of Japanese.

So, how does one actually build a conlang? Honestly, a good first step is to do some research on Phonetics. But the crash course is this: a Phoneme is the simplest sound you can make. There’s an international phoenetic alphabet (IPA) that you can find tons of online. Every distinct sound made by human language has a specific symbol to represent the sound. Learning to read these symbols and the sounds they make will make it easier to find sound links between words. Now, let’s get to the actual methods and the steps involved.

Method 1: The Library

You may have heard of a Sound Library before. For sound technicians, a sound library is a database of sound effects and noises they can Foley into film projects. Building a language can work the same way. In the Librarian method, look through the list of IPA and look for the sounds you want to use in your language. Think about the tone of the language, and whether you’re looking for something softer or harsher, and the kind of culture the people have. Once you have your library of phonemes, it’s just a question of how you want to go about forming words. You could roll die to decide syllables and which sounds to use, you could play it by ear, you could compare to languages you want to sound like. The main appeal of this method is that it creates a great consistency with the sound of a language.

Method 2: The Language Blender

You know you want your language to sound coarse and rough but you’re not sure how to make it sound that way? A good method I like using is taking common words that your world would use, such as Fire or Sun, and translate it into about 3-5 languages that fit the sound you’re trying to invoke. Once you have all of your words translated, you have two paths. Option 1: Find the middle ground. If 3/5 of your words had the letters ma next to each other, chances are, that’s a good pair of letters to carry over to your own language. Option 2: Take your real life languages and put them through the Language Mixer on Chaoticshiny.com. A major benefit of this method is systematically learning words in other languages, and even seeing the etymological roots that tie languages together. The one downside of this language building format is that you may end up with words that don’t mix well together, or as they mix, you find that the sounds of the words don’t tend to mesh well, so it’s important to have a Base Language, the root language you build your fictional language around. No matter what, include at least part of the translation from this language, and you’ll be more grounded in your approach. 

Method 3: The Root System

This is a conlang creating system I learned from Artifexian on Youtube, and I’ll link the video he made right [here] if you want to see it for yourself. He has a lot of great world building videos and I love his content, so don’t be shy about giving him your likes and support because he talks about a lot of the world building aspects people tend to gloss over, myself included. What this method does is it focuses on forming root words that then lead into forming other words.

This is a root system language sheet I designed based on my own fantasy world. In their culture, running water is associated with healing and cleaning because it carries off dirt and other foul things and wipes them away. For this reason, rivers have associations with cleanliness, healing, and life. And this is something worth keeping in mind when building your own language. How does the culture itself interact with the word you are describing? For instance, the reason we say “vandalize” to mean to destroy someone else’s property is because of the Vandal barbarians that plagued Europe during the last legs of the Roman Empire. Heck, the term Flanderize isn’t even that closely linked to the Simpsons, but it emerged as a result of Ned Flanders’ character becoming stock and one-note, which led to the creation of the term. When it comes to actually building the dictionary, this can be a really useful step. So, for example, let’s say the word for River in my language was Asar. A boatman might be Asarii, much like how we have work and worker, fight and fighter, dance and dancer, the suffix of -ii denotes someone who does the root term, in this case, they go on the river. Meanwhile, a fisher could be Asarakii, having Asar mean river, -ak as a suffix for a thing living in the river, and the -ii as a suffix for those who catch the things that live in the river. And for something more abstract like River of Time or River of Stars, you might get something like Asarag Talari.

UNIVERSAL CONLANG TIPS

Keep in mind the people the language exists for. if you’re creating a conlang for dragons, reptiles don’t have lips, so the labial sounds of [p], [b], [f], [v], and possibly even sounds that require lip shaping such as [o], [u], and [w] might not fit the creatures that need to be speaking. Furthermore, if the culture exists before global communication and they live next to the ocean, chances are, they won’t have a word for camel, desert, or sandstorm unless it’s a desert port city. This is why Dothraki has words for every kind of horse and no word for thank-you.

Remember that certain sounds can be switched around. Throughout human language, I’ve learned that certain letters can easily be switched out for each other, and this is in part due to linguistics history. Most of the letters that can be exchanged I actually realized while studying Grimm’s Law and the evolution of language, and by looking at Welsh in particular. In Welsh, the way to write a [f] sound is to write it as ff. When just one f is by itself, it becomes [v]. The sounds of [d], [t], [θ], and [ð] share a similar connection, as do [k] and [g], [ʃ] and [ꭓ], and [b] and [p]. So changing between these similar sounds could prove to be a useful strategy for mixing up your language.

You absolutely have to create a grammar system or you’re going to make a huge mess. That means word order, syntax, suffixes, tense, conjugation, and whatever else is needed. If it helps, learn how another language conjugates its terms. In Sumerian, the phrase “I am your king” is Lugdalzuimen. Lugdal means King, zu is your, and imen means “I am”. So word order is Object Possessive Subject. Then in the phrase Sesguene imes means “they are my brothers”. In actual word order it translates out as “brother my -s they are”. Now we see that the word order is Object Possessive Pluralization Subject. In the phrase Dumuninlagasakak, it becomes child queen Lagas of of. Meaning child [queen of Lagas] of or Child of the Queen of Lagas. By understanding how this language structures itself, something like the phrase River of Stars I made earlier could now be broken down to be something like Asartalariag (River Star -s of). I find it helps in this case to word it as “River star many of” to get “river of many stars” to figure out when the pluralizing suffix would be applied.

Resources:

Wiktionary.com

Chaoticshiny.com

http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/definitionlookup (for all of your ancient greek translation needs. Set it to Latin transliteration)

http://www.abair.tcd.ie/?lang=eng (because Google Translate doesn’t sound out Irish words)

https://www.wordreference.com/enfr/ (it’s set English to French, but it has a lot of languages, and it’s great because it also teaches you slang uses of words.)

[getting-rid-of-anniex]

An (Un)Healthy Check up

This is me, probably about 6 / 7 years old...?...(looks like I’m busy burying a vampire I’ve just staked?)...what I would give to let that little girl know that she really is enough, and to never let the world get her down so much so that she questions herself.

Fast forward 31 years and I’m now on a quest to try and get back to being as much like that carefree child. The most stressful thing I had to think about then, was whether I would get some sweets at the weekend and if Barbie and Ken would like the salon I’d made for them out of toilet rolls and a load of old boxes.

The unfortunate thing about ‘LIFE’ is that - ‘LIFE HAPPENS’(!) and the person you become is built up of many moments and experiences. In my case, my moments and experiences ended up helping to construct someone lacking confidence and overflowing with anxiety. I started dieting from about the age of 15 (and since then the weight only went up!) Friendships became toxic and I ended up having to build myself a new peer group. I developed a pattern of using food and drink to both celebrate and commiserate. I overindulged on happy days, sad days, sunny days, rainy days; to plaster over a stressful situation, and gee myself up when I needed some dutch courage. My health took a battering, developing asthma, bad knees (at one point the doctor did say I had arthritis...later on rescinding this?!?), IBS and depression. I’ve gone through stages of going totally bonkers with exercise, from running every day, to not at all and just lying on the sofa eating crisps. I tried so many times to follow weight loss programs - if only I’d saved that money instead. After repeatedly falling off the wagon I’d restart another program with so much excitement, only for the hard work to start and the realisation that this wouldn’t be a walk in the park, to hit. I’d throw in the towel and unhappily stuff my face (self sabotage anyone?) My stomach was in a constant mess resulting in time off work (and increased time in the loo!). I tried gluten free, but again after a month or two of symptoms easing and feeling good I’d then decide it wasn’t as bad as originally thought and devour everything in sight, only to go shooting right back to the beginning. As well as feeling like crap because my stomach was in agony, I’d also be mentally berating myself for not being able to stick to anything AGAIN. Why didn’t I have the ability to stick to anything? Especially when all the things I was doing, I was doing in the hope of helping myself?

Appointment no.1

After realising finally just how much I was hurting myself, and how much I was struggling, and after crying on the shoulders of some very amazing friends and family (I really hope you guys know who you are) I decided to see the doctor. To help with my IBS, anxiety and stress (which was a bowlful of Catch-22 IBS related loveliness!!!) I was prescribed anti depressants. Whilst these helped initially, they didn’t touch my inner demons. Self destructive patterns were repeated and the only thing I learnt, was how better to hide things from others.

This must stop!

Back in 2018 my body finally had had enough. After feeling like utter shite for months on end, monitoring over the course of a few weeks how my heart would start racing (just sitting at my desk) and having increasing episodes of hot flushes, I knew I needed to get in contact with the doctor. This time I really wanted to do something...and I was scared. The ball got moving though earlier  than I’d planned.

Sitting at work my heart suddenly started to race. (There were no harsh words/emails, up-coming meetings/reviews, and I hadn’t eaten a heavy or spicy meal, there wasn’t anything in fact that could explain why this was happening). It felt as though I was having a panic attack (although never having had one, I couldn’t say for sure?). Luckily I was able to get an appointment with the doctor (another one) later that same day. I feel forever grateful to have been given an appointment with this particular doctor. For the first time ever I felt listened to, rather than just hurried along with the explanation for everything being the bog (pun intended) standard ‘gluten intolerance’. This went so much deeper. I was booked in for blood tests (and stool samples - yuck!)  to check for any intolerances (also checking for Crohn’s and Celiac disease)/vitamin deficiencies, given leaflets on the FODMAP diet (although I do feel like this isn’t the full answer for my stomach issues, it definitely helped to fully monitor what foods were triggering my IBS symptoms). We also had a bloody good talk. I didn’t feel like I was just another foot through the door and that the clock was being watched; I really could have hugged my Doc. I left feeling so positive (for most probably the first time in years). Even if we couldn’t rule everything out straight away (there would be a lot of trial and error in the up-coming months), it felt as though someone was on my side and wanted to help. Someone had finally just sat and listened (I’m not including friends and family in that comment - believe me, they definitely have done more than their share of hand holding and listening. This just meant so much, having someone from the health profession listen rather than assume.)

Blood test results

Well the results came in: B12 deficient and lacking folic acid. (I did have to have a further round of blood tests to rule out Pernicious Anemia, but this came back negative.) I also had to provide a ‘sample’, but the only embarrassing part about this was the idiot monkey behind the reception desk deciding that she needed to shout out across the waiting room that my little tube contained pooh (ground please swallow me up!!!)

Diet

B12 and folic acid were tackled with supplement vitamins and a controlled diet (at the time I was going through the FODMAP diet - which was so hard to navigate. So in the mean time I’ve knocked that on the head, but have tried to limit certain foods and just be more mindful about what I am putting into my body - for example I don’t eat apples as they really don’t like my stomach, I have to be careful how much beetroot/coffee/chickpeas, nuts and chocolate I have and I do try to limit bread/pasta. I was put on a list to speak to a dietician....I’m still waiting to see them!)

I have also rejoined WW online (but if being truthful, I’m still struggling with this. It’s still that bit too easy for me to not track all foods). It’s definitely a work in progress. The recipes are fantastic - I just need to be more honest with it if it’s going to work. One positive with this app though is that it has helped learning to track my weight only once a week (I used to have a day ritual of weighing myself).

I’ve cut right back on alcohol (to be another post soon, as this is a whole other story in itself). I’m already feeling the benefits, and some of them in unexpected ways - my skin has never felt/looked clearer (and from someone who is obsessed with studying the wrinkles on her forehead, this has been a fantastic bonus).

Fitness

I’ve downloaded some fitness apps to try and increase the amount of exercise I do (sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day does not help with general fitness!)

ZR5K: I’m currently doing a 5K training app (learning to run whilst escaping from Zombies - I’ve not used this app when it’s dark, I think it would unnerve me too much).

Race at your pace*: I’ve signed up for ‘Race at your pace’ (it was only £10 (medal only option)...and I get a medal at the end - as long as I complete my target of 25 miles run through out January). This has been a real motivator - I love the idea of getting a medal at the end of the month. This has also been mega easy to implement - I just track at the same time as escaping Zombies! *£10 for a medal - more if you want a Race at your pace top. **mile target is set by yourself and you can complete it by either running/walking or swimming for that particular month. MapMyRun: I currently use this as well, to track where I’m going and how long it’s taking me. It’s been a brilliant tool for monitoring average pace, and I’m hoping as the months role by to see this improving. Yoga: I’m also starting to implement some yoga into my daily routine too. I find that as well as it helping to stretch and loosen my muscles after a run (very slow shuffle), it also helps me to unwind and switch off.

Mindfulness

Breathe: I have downloaded a relaxation and meditation app. As with all the apps I’m currently using, I’ve gone for the free option so with this particular one, I don’t get the longer/more specific meditations, but there are still a great range to select from. They have been really helpful unwinding before bed. I just need to get into a better routine of using this daily.

Supportive networks

The hubby, friends and family have all been invaluable to me getting to where I am now. My husband is an amazing man (also a pain in the arse, but hey - I’ll forgive him that) and I absolutely cherish all he does in order to help me on my journey to being a better, happier human being! I cannot stress enough, how you need people around you who (may not have the answers but) will listen - without judgement. I feel so incredibly lucky to have the people around me who I know I can talk to, cry on and ask opinions of. I’ve been incredibly honest with my boss. Luckily he is someone who I know I can talk to and he’s been very understanding. After worrying about time off work due to sickness (stress/IBS/depression issues etc) I opened up completely about everything - food, health (mental and physical)....and I’ve even asked if I can set my health goals as part of my personal development target at work. (Being proactive about helping myself can surely only have a positive impact on my work/life balance. A happier/healthier worker will have a better attitude at work and (I’m hoping) a more productive output???)

Other ‘things’

I’ve also tried to absorb anything and everything that is supportive, positive that will help shore up my personal goals on my journey to self improvement.

I’ve downloaded healthy living podcasts, listened to audio books on being alcohol free and been reading ‘self help’ books - such as ‘The Happiness Equation’.

So this is me - minus the fringe and wondering if I should have curled my hair (see, I’m still a stress head). I’m not 100% healthy or happy but I’m trying my hardest to get there. I’ve got a lot of things to figure out but this time I’m willing to try. I may not be a little six year old happily sitting on the beach, but I’m determined to approach life with that same open and curious mindset...and vampires beware, I’ll still stake and bury you, no questions asked if you try to bite!

______________________________________

That’s all for now folks.

Along the way Annie X came on the scene. I’ll explain my relationship with her in the next ‘session’.

Thanks, be kind to each other and I’ll see you next time R (and Annie X) x