#but for the sake of my principles i'm doing it all and putting it out and that's it

[rad-roche]

i talk about gloria spoiler timeskip appearance shakeup of changing circumstance and that's fun and i can't wait to get to it but nick also has one. that i. CANNOT wait to get to. and i've been very good about keeping secret for literal years now

[captainamericasmotercycle]

Can I request one for Jacaerys Velaryon where Rhaenyra betroths him to his twin sister and they're both super awkward about it. You can write it as you wish.

warnings: i didn't make them twins so interpret her as you'd like, targ!cest (unintentional?), aemond and aegon taunting jace, high valyrion (i'm not fluent forgive me), takes place in 1.08 (lord of the tides), more angsty than awkward, aemond x reader if you squint really really hard?

“Her children are bastards! And she is a whore,” Vaemond Velaryon spoke with vemon on his tongue.

You and your brothers shared a glance of embarassment with one another.

Viserys hobbled up from his seat on the throne, “I will have your tongue for that.”

Before Viserys could get any further Dark Sister flung through the air, taking Vaemond’s head with her. Everyone in the room jumped back, your mother pushing you behind her, as your younger brother gasped.

“He can keep his tongue,” chaos erupted with the King’s guard.

“Disarm him!”

Daemon wiped the Velaryon blood off his sword and sheathed it, ushering you and his daughters out of the room, “No need.”

-

Later in the dining hall, you and your estranged family stood around a large table, Viserys was carried in and sat in between your mother and Alicent, “How good it is… to see you all tonight… together.”

One he was situated, all sat in the respective places, you between Jacaerys and Lucerys.

Alicent looked to her husband, “Prayer before we begin?”

“Yes,” your family was not the most religious, you looked to Jace, you looked back at you with an annoyed expression.

“May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest.”

Viserys was the first to speak, just barely lifting his cup, “This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandson Luke, will marry his cousins Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Prince… and his betrothed! Hear, hear!”

The rest of the table rose their glasses and toasted to your younger brother.

Aegon, sitting next to Jace leaned over and spoke quietly, “Your younger brother bests you once again. Laying with a women before you.”

Viserys spoke again, “Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys… the future Lord of the Tides. Hear, hear!”

You smiled at him, squeezing his hand, “You’ll be great.”

Aegon continued on with him, “You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that.”

“Let it be, Aegon,” Helaena chastised him, tired of his jokes.

“You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my sister,” Jace defended you.

Your family sat in tension, your grandsire felt the need to clear the air, “It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world… yet grown so distant from each other… in the years past.”

He takes his mask off his face and drops it on the table, “My own face… is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight… I wish you to see me… as I am. Not just a king… but your father. Your brother. Your husband… and your grand sire. Who may not, it seems… walk for much longer among you.”

He breathes heavily and struggles with his next words, “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown… then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Your grandsire sits and the room was filled with silence, your mother arose from her place next to him.

“I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood… more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with… unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude… and my apology.”

Alicent smiles solemnly to Rhaenyra, “Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess.”

She stands and raises her cup, “We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my cup to you… and to your house. You will make a fine queen.”

Each at the table took turns toasting to the family, each aggrivating Jacaerys more.

Aegon, drunkenly, rose, turning to Luke, “I, um… I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.”

Aegon smiles and turns to Jace now, “Ask me, of course. Your older brother would not know how to guide you.”

Jace stands, slamming his hands down on the table, you grab his wrist, “Jace.”

Sternly looking at him, he glances to you before raising his glass, “To Prince Aegon and… Prince Aemond,” Aemond’s face hardens, “We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles.”

Jace sits and Heleana stands, “I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Aegon rolls his eyes in embarassment, Viserys smiles at his youngest daughter, and Daemon gently laughs.

Viserys feels ill and is taken out of the room. Only the Hightower side of the family is left.

You’ve always had a strained relationship with your uncles, but you did love Helaena, often times strolling in the gardens with her, or her teaching you some embroidery tricks.

Aemond glances at you from across the table, a dark and hungry look in his eyes. You look away from him and to your mother. She nods at you, as a way of saying that she would take care of it.

The pig comes out of the kitchens and is brought to the table, Luke chuckles at the sizzling pig. Aemond slams his fist on the table, capturing everyone’s attention.

“Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace… Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… hm… strong,” he looks to you and smirks, “And my niece, you are of age now, luck to you in finding a husband. Perhaps someone strong, maybe you will find home in the Riverlands.”

“Aemond,” Alicent warns.

You can see Jace fuming from beside you, but you gently nudge his foot under the table with yours. You keep your composure.

You hum, smirking back at him, “Kirimvose, yn nyke gīmigon nyke kostagon become tolī than sepār mirtys’s riñnykeā ābrazȳrys… Kepa.” Thank you, but I know I can become more than just someone's lady wife… uncle

“Kostilus se ābrazȳrys hen nykeā darilaros?” Perhaps the wife of a prince?

“Nyke unyishishk jorrāelagon daorun tolī than naejot sagon se ābrazȳrys hen dārys's tȳne tresy.” I would love nothing more than to be the wife of the king's second son.

Aemond’s face hardened. Only you, Aemond, your mother, and Daemon fully understood the words exchanged. Your mother and Daemon shared a look of pride.

Alicent looked at the interaction with confusion and furrowed brows.

“What are they saying?”

“Aemond has proposed a marriage it seems,” Rhaenyra speaks.

Jace looks at you almost angrily, “What did you say?”

All eyes were on you, “What she said is not important,” your mother interrupted.

She cleared her throat, “What matters is that my daughter will wed her brother, Jacaerys, heir to the Iron Throne. She will become queen one day; something more than someone’s lady wife.”

Everyone’s eyes widened. You felt heat rise to your cheeks. There is no way that your mother would have you marry your brother?

Aemond’s hardened grin turned to a smug one, “Well then, congratulations is in order to my niece and her strong husband.”

Jace stood and walked towards the center of the room, challenging his uncle, “I dare you to say that again.”

Aemond stood with him, walking to him, “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment,” he leaned into Jace, whispering into his ear, “Do you not think yourself Strong?”

Without hesitation, Jace swung at Aemond, getting in a good punch onto his jaw. Everyone around the table gasped, your mother yelled sternly, “Jace!”

Aemond reached for his blade, but his mother’s voice stopped him, “Aemond! That is enough!”

“Go to your quarters. All of you go, now.”

You stood and watched Jace walk out. You didn’t follow him to his quarters to check on him. You stayed in the hall and waited for your mother.

As she came out of the dining hall, you caught up with her.

“Mother!”

She turned to you, “Were you telling the truth… about me.. and Jace?”

Holding your face in her hands she stroked your cheek with her thumb and smiled gently at you, but you could not meet her eyes, “You will make a great queen one day, my sweet girl.”

She tugged at your chin to force you to look at her, “But now, you need to rest, we have quite the journey ahead of us back to Dragonstone, tomorrow.”

You nodded before heading back to your quarters. Nodding at the guards standing at your door, you pushed them open.

Jace, who was waiting for you on your bed, stood at your entrance. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Jacaerys, it is not proper for you to be in here… not anymore.”

“Please just listen.”

You walked around the room, releasing the maids of their duties, “Leave us.” The maids were quick to exit.

“I did not know she was going to say that!”

“I did not know Aemond would try to wed me tonight.”

“I’m sorry. We do not have to wed if you choose to take someone else’s hand—”

“No,” shaking your head, “It is.. our duty now, as the future queen’s eldests.”

“I promise to be a good husband—”

“Jacaerys, I do not wish to speak of this any longer.”

He spoke your name softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Leave me, Jace.”

He said your name more sternly now.

“Leave me, your grace.”

He sunk into himself, hands on his sheathed sword, nodding at you, “As you wish.”

You watch him leave, the door slamming behind him. You groaned in frustration, running your hands over your face and through your hair.

How are you supposed to marry your brother of all people?

[keystonepublishing]

The Saga of Hermitcraft on r/Place (1 April 2022 - 4 April 2022)

On the 1st of April 2022, Reddit unveiled a white blank canvas where every user had the ability to place one colored pixel in every 5 minutes. At its height, about 4 million people participated in one of the biggest internet collaborations ever made. The ripple effects reverberated into news reports as far away as Turkey, and the final canvas represents a snapshot of the multiple communities, events, memes, and what was popular around the world at that time.

This is a documentation of the Hermitcraft mural on r/place 2022.

aka.

Remember what I said about my latest ficbind being a distraction? This is what I wanted to be distracted from.

After Reddit's API fiasco of this year and the subsequent controversial event that was r/place 2023, I decided to save as much documentation about the 2022 event as I could. Luckily, I remember how there are already a series of posts by @riacte who documented the progress of the Hermitcraft mural throughout the whole event, from beginning to end. Her blogposts form the bulk of this book (like, 95%!) and I cannot thank her enough for preserving the happenings of the block men mural.

With that said, I quickly realized that someone who's not a Hermitcraft fan - or me if I'm older - might not get the gist of who's who on the mural. The solution? Make several pages dedicated to just listing who's who on the murals! Because of the sheer number of heads, the mural was divided into several pieces for easier labeling. As a bonus, I also threw in another mural nearby which was connected enough to the Hermitcraft community.

For consistency's sake and preserving focus, I decided to not label the peeps from Dream SMP or the MCC secondary mural. Wrangling Microsoft Word to create an infographic was hard enough, let alone 3! If I inadvertently left out a few bits of extra context from this decision, mea culpa.

When it came to typesetting the entire text block, I decided to make some consistent rules. Titles denoting each day or stage of the mural are on their own pages. New sections are titled using the Bahnschrift font and colored blue, while the first paragraph has their beginning lines look Minecraft-coded and topped with a drop cap (aka. those super-large alphabets).

The names of Hermitcraft and Minecraft players in general are bolded when they first appear in the text. Afterwards, they are bolded if they are contextually important to what's being said.

Extra context would be placed in the footnotes section at the bottom of the page. This is also where I dump some background information that would be invaluable for any readers who aren't Minecraft fans, which is why the SpaceX page looked like... uh, that.

My image policy is to go with the flow; I used as many images from riacte's posts as possible, but I also added-in some of my own if more context is needed. Placing them to look smooth with the text was harder - some are small enough to not cause any problems, others are large enough to fill entire pages without any problems, but a few like the Dream SMP mural (hey there! I managed to put you in!) are too wonky to fit perfectly without leaving no empty spaces.

So in that mural's case, I placed them to the side and let the contextual text flow around it. This principle was also used for the Dota2 / Love Live images and in a few other places throughout the book. The biggest case of this are the few images that are just too wide.

Like this one.

Making double-page spreads is not the easiest thing to do in Microsoft Word, and there are a few r/place images that are too wide to fit perfectly in a single page. Confining them to one page would also mean losing all their details, so making them a double-page spread was necessary.

Didn't make it easy though, especially when there are paragraphs of text and other images that needed to be shuffled around. Mess up the double-page images, and they won't meet in the middle. Mess up the text and other pics? There goes the layout and overall flow!

In the end, making this book took a lot longer than I expected, but I am still grateful to have made this as I have now read through many posts from Tumblr, Reddit, and even Youtube - people expressing joy that they have collectively made something together. I can only hope I have made some justice to them by compiling their work and (even if a small sliver) preserving their testaments.

May this r/place be remembered.

[butchsophiewalten]

I'm annoyed by some of Martin's hypocrisy regarding Felix Kranken. He claims that there're no clearly evil or clearly good characters in twf, the show has a gray morality, etc. But at the same time, he refutes the fact that Felix was abusive towards Linda and makes their conflict much less dramatic and far-fetched. Like, abandoning a sick person who needs you simply because he said a few harsh words to you while drunk? Sorry, but in this situation the last thing I want to do is empathize with Linda.

And I understand why Martin did it: Felix is obviously one of the main characters, if not the main one, and the audience should sympathize with him. Martin probably doesn't feel comfortable making the wife-beater likable to anyone in any way, it probably violates his moral principles. But then why does he write a story with a GRAY and AMBIGUOUS morality with a child murderer antagonist at the center of the plot, if he can’t stand the everyday dirt that exists in real life?

I answered this ask with a lot of text. I've put it all under a cut, because it's long.

I really want to seem levelheaded and thoughtful in my response to this, because I never want to assume more than is absolutely necessary from a careless message on the internet. Y'know, It's just nice to be thoughtful when talking to people. It's good manners. I don't want to say anything needlessly incendiary. But before I respond to any of this, I really can't ignore just the legitimately vile misogyny in this message.

You think Linda is in the wrong for "abandoning" her husband over "a few harsh words" after she tried for TEN YEARS to salvage their marriage? And she only left for her own sake after a relationship-defining argument that made her realize she couldn't emotionally contend with the way he was treating her anymore? I'll get this very clear right out of the way: activism for addicts is something that I take incredibly seriously. People who are suffering with life-ruining addiction absolutely deserve networks of support, and they deserve respect and kindness, and they deserve easy access to social programs that are equipped to provide those things. Even the worst addict in the world, who's done the most terrible shit a person could imagine, deserves such a level of care that should be afforded to any human being. What none of that means, is that you, as in individual, in an interpersonal relationship with a person suffering from addiction, need to submit yourself to a life of flagellation for the sake of that person. Because that person is sick, and you aren't. No man's downward spiral is the fault of the woman who left him because he took it out on her.

Okay. With that out of the way, I can respond to the walten files part of this ask now. I'm not sure if you read my recap for the twitter space where he talks about Felix and Linda's relationship, and I don't remember exactly how I did or didn't summarize what he said, but my opinion of what he talked about there was that he personally doesn't think of Felix and Linda's relationship being abusive, but that he doesn't think it would be necessarily incorrect to interpret Felix's behavior as emotionally abusive or neglectful, (he says this much almost verbatim,) which makes a lot of sense to me. To him, the problem with their relationship was that they were kind of fundamentally romantically incompatible beyond the point of reconciliation, but that they (primarily Felix,) weren't willing to recognize that and dial back their relationship to just being friends (because they are, he says, incredibly important to each other. It's not like their relationship was completely torrid and loveless. They loved each other.) He compares that to Charles' relationship with his (ex)wife, where they came to a mutual understanding that they weren't right for each other as husband and wife, but they stayed friends, because they cared about each other and otherwise their relationship was good.

I don't understand how that's less realistic or nuanced than. Felix beating his wife? So much of The Walten Files is about mourning things that could have been. It's about peering into times when things were good, and watching those gears turn and those mechanisms of tragedy fall into place, and seeing it come apart in a way that makes you ache. I think it's much more in-keeping with the narrative interests of The Walten Files that Felix's relationship with his wife wasn't some trite misogynist horror story, where he beat her and she left him and now he has Manpain about it, but as this much more human (as in, humanizing) sort of thing wherein there was such a clear path to improvement, but Felix sabotaged it in his lack of willingness to adopt agency within his own life. It rings alike to every other time he was has been and will be faced with the opportunity to do the right thing, and how he rejects it every single time, in his own unwillingness to help himself.

I don't know how any of that is in any way ignoring or sidestepping the consequences of real-world tragedy. Just because Felix isn't the terrible violent misogynist you seemingly want him to be, doesn't mean that he, as a character, doesn't reflect any aspects of reality. I think, in fact, Felix is meant to embody a lot of the worst tendencies you see in a lot of people, even you or I, who fail to help themselves out of situations they are objectively capable of improving. Out of a fear of action or consequence or upsetting the status quo. But in a way that is exaggerated and more suited to a narrative.

That, and I feel that Martin means more specifically that there are no "completely good" or "completely evil" characters in The Walten Files, which I feel is self-evidently true. Nobody is Evil Incarnate, and nobody is a messiah, or a perfect victim. Felix is terrible and his actions are condemnable, but you feel for him when you see his flaws as a human being, and there's meant to be a part of you that always hopes he'll eventually do the right thing. even if he doesn't and never will.

We're already seeing the reverse of that in characters like Charles and Susan, where they gossip amongst themselves about their friends' tragedies and thus far refuse to be proactive about Felix's shitty behavior, with Susan even saying outright that she wants nothing to do with it. It's really easy for me to imagine a version of these characters who see something like Felix trying to hide Rocket from Jack and Rose, and who immediately go "This is wrong! I'm going to tell them right away!" and I really do like that they don't do that. There's a degree of complicity. They're just done with getting wrapped up in Felix's shit, even if it means they end up a bystander to something really shady, and I like that it makes them more nuanced as people, instead of being so perfectly virtuous. There's a balance of this. The Walten Files' interest in the morally gray doesn't just mean that the villains get off easy, but rather that the people in it behave as people do, and are sometimes flawed or self-interested. And I think this sort of thinking is going to become a clearer pattern as the series goes on.

[mysticsublimeperson]

Based on this post I wrote sometime ago, I got a little idea

Arthur was furious, he had been waiting too much for his supper. Merlin definitely was going to pay for that.

He had been in such a good mood after the improvised hunt he went on that afternoon. He knew Merlin tended to do this little acts of revenge when he makes him cover for him, be a little late, have the water a bit too cold or burning hot, pick the itchy nightshirt, tiny thing that he allowed for the sake of the strange relationship they had. But it had been more than three candle marks since the night bell. He was hungry.

Could he have called for another servant to bring him food? Yes, yes he could. But it was a question of principles.

And he was the prince.

"Call for Merlin, bring him here, now!" he roared to the guard posted at his door, who gave him a surprised look at the sudden request.

"Sire?"

"You know what?" he decided "leave it, I will look for him myself, and I will make him eat my boots when I find him!"

Arthur went to Gaius's chambers muttering threads to the air "If he has gone to the tavern, so help me god I'll have him made stocks just for him" he said fuming as he strut his way to the tower.

"MERLIN!" he shouted when he entered the infirmary.

No one answered. The room was badly lit and Gaius was nowhere to be seen, which meant that Gaius was likely doing his nightly rounds.

"Merlin!" he called again, while he marche to Merlin's tiny room without paying any mind. He opened the door with a bang, and tried to make sense of the space, this room was almost in total darkness, the light of the moon slipping through the window.

"Merlin!" said while shoving the bundle of sheets in Merlins bed out of the way, only to find it empty, "oh, ho ho... I'm going to kill him" he declared turning around and shouting his name out, just for the sake of burning some steam.

"Sire?" he heard the door squeak open while a tired looking Gaius entered the chambers "Is everything ok?" he said quietly.

"Of course not, Gaius. Have you got any idea of where in the world could be my useless of a manservant?" Gaius looked stricken by the question.

"Why do you ask your highness? Do you need him for something?" his tone was strange but Arthur hadn't caught it yet.

"Obviously Gaius, I been waiting for my food for ages, Im properly famished and it's all his fault. So don't try to protect him, tell me the truth, Where is he? Is he in the tavern? I bet he is..."

"Merlin is here" he said slowly, and pointed to the cot in the corner of the room.

"He sleeping! I can't believe him, Is he drunk? He must be, not hearing my call" he kept ranting while he got close to the cot.

"Gods, Child!" Arthur stopped on his tracks, Gaius hadn't talked to him like that in a long time. "Can't you see?" he said, and now Arthur could detect something in his voice, not yet understanding what it was.

Gaius took a candle and got close to him so Arthur could see.

"What?" Suddenly his voice didn't work correctly, and felt simultaneously the need to see what Gaius meant and to turn away and leave without never understanding what Gaius meant.

He breathed and looked at the cot.

Merlin was pale, sweaty and dirty. More than usual, and his face looked sucked in, his hair looked oily, he was lying on his side and his hands were resting next to his face, dark with dirt and his wrist red and raw. He could not see very well, but he guessed that his neck would be in a similar condition.

"How much time he was in the stocks?" he asked softly.

Merlin had told him that it was a common occurrence, when Arthur decided to flee of his responsibilities that he needed a moment to breathe, Uther punished Merlin a bit by putting him in the stocks. But Arthur did it too, he wouldn't say constantly, but Merlin probably would. The fact was that the stocks had never put him in this position before.

Gaius shook his head "He was just released" he answered with disappointment, he was disappointed at him "Your father was rather upset you weren't at the meeting with Lord Durham" Gaius he'd moved to his working table and was grinding herbs, he almost managed to sound detached.

"I... I know" Arthur didn't know what to say. He kept looking at Merlin in the semidarkness. A whole day in the stocks, still, he'd seen people in worst state than Merlin get through that, and not end up like this. Something was missing.

"He was in the stocks the whole day Arthur" Gaius explained a bit chocked up, and then moved behind Merlin with two bowls, une with water and a cloth and the other where he had been grinding the herbs. He pulled up his shirt and with the cloth he started to clean softly. Arthur's stomach started to ache, suddenly the hunger and fury that had moved him across the castle disappeared and transformed itself in something else.

"There were no breaks, and no one was allowed to bring him food or water" Arthur tried not to gasp, while the old man kept cleaning, and even in the darkness he could see how the cloth was staining an ugly dark color.

"Uther seemed to be under the impression that he had some kind of knowledge of your whereabouts, because he kept asking. And then he got tired. And he had Merlin flogged" Arthur had to close his eyes, he was shaking, he had known it was coming, Gaius did not try to hide the situation, and it was obvious something more had happened but to put it in to words made so real it hurt.

"Merlin is a member of the royal household..." he said weakly, that punishment was disproportionate, that was something he would expect for a prisoner or a traitor. The guilt settled in his throat, in his chest, in his stomach, he was afraid of asking more, suddenly afraid of getting closer, of seeing it with both his eyes.

"Ten lashes" Gaius answered the unasked question and Arthur sucked his breath.

He had to stabilize himself. Ten lashes were for the weaker, it was enough to kill.

"The sun was high in the sky when they did it" Gaius kept talking and Arthur just wanted him to shut up he needed time to process "He spent the day in the sun, with the wounds open" he took the herbs in his hands and started applying them to Merlin's back, the man did not even flinch "We are lucky the infection hasn't taken him already" Arthur let himself fall in the bench trying to control himself. "So Arthur, I'd like to think that whatever you were doing, whatever secret quest Merlin paid the price for, was important"

"I..." he didn't know why he was talking, there were no words that could be said that excused this, just "I am so sorry" chocked out, his voices sounding unstable.

Gaius did not answer. He kept applying the herbs in silence.

[morlock-holmes]

A Review of John McWhorter's Woke Racism

While I was reading through White Fragility @limeadeislife recommended I might check out John McWhorter's book, or maybe more of an extended pamphlet, Woke Racism: How A New Religion Has Betrayed Black America especially because I was looking at White Fragility through the lens of how it resembles what I understand about certain right-wing Christian cultures.

I'm not entirely sure how to approach McWhorter's book.

On the one hand, unlike Robin DiAngelo, McWhorter can put together a cogent argument in the format of "A leads to B, which suggests C" which DiAngelo never bothers to do, which means the book is both a breath of fresh air after White Fragility but also that I found myself wanting to argue with some of his tangential political views about, say, education, just because they were coherent enough to argue against.

But in terms of the central thesis, the book is, openly, aimed at left-wing centrist types who find people like DiAngelo utterly inexplicable, and less directly at members of DiAngelo's ideology who are starting to question the dogma.

In fact, I did enjoy this roasting of White Fragility

"Robin DiAngelo's White Fragility, for example, reads in the present tense like a bizarre exercise in mind control created by someone bent on manipulation and getting paid. That's a misinterpretation: It is a work-book based on principles foundational in seminars of critical race theory, which its author sincerely believes in, promoting it out of a sense of benevolent mission."

I both feel that I should, for consistancy's sake explain why this invocation of Critical Race Theory doesn't bother me too much while at the same time feeling that this would be a boring tangent of interest only to a handful of people who are constantly annoyed with me.

But this leads to my big issue with the book, which is that it is very "101". This book is aimed at me eight years ago; by 2020 I had already deprogrammed myself and if you are reading this tumblr you already think this stuff is obnoxious nonsense as well, and you'll be very familiar with most of McWhorter's arguments (Including his trade school advocacy and belief in ending the war on drugs). You already read about and were outraged by the egregious examples he cites.

There's room for a deeper book about all this stuff, which delves more deeply into both the history of ideas and the culture of the religion that McWhorter sees.

The Ideology With No Name

McWhorter doesn't actually use the word "Woke" in the book. He says he finds it dismissive, and the phenomenon is serious, but I also do get the feeling that he knows that a bunch of the people shrieking about "wokeness" are as mendacious and dishonest as DiAngelo and her ilk.

There's a silly bit in White Fragility where DiAngelo writes:

"[Charles W.] Mills describes white supremacy as 'the unnamed politcal system that has made the world what is is today.'"

Which... Like. You named it in that sentence.

In fact, one of the major propaganda victories of DiAngelo et al has been to assert that they do not have an ideology, that they are merely anti-racist, and that any anti-racist movement or person obviously agrees with them, and anybody who disagrees is disagreeing with anti-racism as such.

So there just isn't an agreed upon name for the particular thread DiAngelo is part of.

McWhorter calls the ideology "Third Wave Anti-racism" and the people who follow the ideology, "The Elect" after an essayist named Joseph Bottum who I have not yet read.

Basically, McWhorter sees third wave anti-racism as a religious movement rather than a political movement, and I also agree that it has a lot in common with Right Wing American Protestantism in particular. I thought I might just go over some of the parallels, some of these are things McWhorter goes over in his book, some are my own thoughts or expansions of my own thoughts based on things he says.

Anti-Racism is the Gospel, by which I mean "The Good News". There is a strain in American missionary work that professes to be baffled that anybody rejects the Gospels. The Gospels are obviously true, and obviously good. The fact that Jesus Christ died for your sins and rose from the dead is as obviously true as the fact that the sky is blue. And so anybody rejecting the Gospel is pathologized the same way that you would pathologize someone who insisted that nobody has ever seen a blue sky. You can't admit that maybe the Gospels could be false, or that the evidence for them is anything less then overwhelming, so you invent psychological reasons for why non-believers insist on saying things that are obviously false. DiAngelo specifically is like this, she constantly acts baffled that anybody would respond to her wisdom with anything other then sheer gratitude. White Fragility asks the question, "Given that everything I, Robin DiAngelo, say about race is true and helpful, why do people get so angry when I say it?" It sounds like I am exaggerating but I promise she says this in almost the same words in the introduction to the book, which I'd quote if I hadn't already returned it to the library.

Racism is Original Sin, This is so obvious that basically everybody who is opposed to third-wave antiracism has picked up on it. It's held that every white person is inherently racist, and we can't ever stop being racist, we can only acknowledge our racism and attempt to minimize the damage. But something that I think has been talked about less is that this can be used to enforce hierarchies. Something that happens often in Christian circles is that when a leader of the community is found doing something corrupt or bad, the response is, "Of course, it just goes to show you that every one of us can sin, but the leader has repented his sin and been forgiven by Jesus Christ, so if you don't forgive him as well it shows how unchristian you are." Meanwhile, if you are found to be sinning, well, doesn't it say something very bad about you that you let yourself do this despite the community looking our for you? A similar thing happens with this "We're all a little bit racist" two-step. DiAngelo's racism is the unfortunate problem with being raised in a racist society; your racism is evidence that you haven't done the work.

Your everyday life is the battleground between God and Satan One of the reasons Christianity appeals to people is that it elevates the everyday struggles into amazing battles for the universe. Your decision about whether to masturbate while thinking of that hot barista is actually a demon from another plane of existence locked in a deadly battle for your soul with the creator of the entire universe. As much as third-wave Antiracists talk about systemic racism, in practice they are really heavily focused on inter-personal racism. DiAngelo specifically professes that once enough white people have healed our internal racism, systemic racism will sort of... disappear in an act of pure white person will. Whether you talk over Monique from HR is elevated from petty office drama to a very battle for the soul of America and the fate of her minorities.

Have you heard the good news? One of the silliest tropes in American Christian media is when our Christian heroes run into people who have never thought about Christianity and don't know anything about the bible. Of course, that idea is absurd; Christianity is one of the major political forces in America, it's basically impossible to be ignorant of it, but because it doesn't have a hegemony, it's adherents often pretend that it has no power at all and only a tiny elect even know about it. Third-Wave Anti-racism constantly does the same thing, asserting that Whites just don't think about race or racism even as millions of them rush out to buy White Fragility. Because Third-Wave Antiracism does not have a hegemony in the US, this is taken as evidence that it is utterly powerless and nobody has even heard of it, even though that is patently absurd.

I've Done Everything The Bible Says, even the stuff that contradicts the other stuff! McWhorter points out that often, third-wave anti-racists will applaud both of two entirely contradictory opinions: e.g. if whites move out of minority neighborhoods, that's white flight and evidence of white racism. If whites move into minority neighborhoods, that's gentrification and evidence of white racism. From outside, this looks like, and frankly is, pure hypocrisy. But what it does in practice, and I say this from inside experience, is build out a social hierarchy. On the lowest rungs (The ones I used to occupy) are the people who actually believe this. We are surrounded both by obvious contradictions and by friends, coworkers, and celebrities telling us that actually all this makes perfect sense, and we assume everybody else just has access to a secret knowledge that allows them to resolve these apparent contradictions. What I very slowly learned, which lead to my conversion from the culture, was that this is not the case. You don't actually figure out some crazy third way out of that dilemma, you just move to the all-white suburb because you just had a kid and you're worried about crime, and then you occasionally publicly confess how guilty you are that you did it, and that it just shows how far we have to go. The people on the highest rung are, from what I can see, people who are so utterly lacking in self-awareness and so incapable of putting together a logical argument that they simply don't understand the contradictions in their own world-view, and just confidently do whatever.

Man, I've tried to write this a couple of times and it feels like it gets away from me.

One last trope in Christian media is the unbeliever who doesn't know anything about Christianity, but he reads the bible and then comes away with the exact political beliefs of a 21st century right-wing Evangelical. Which is of course absurd; the idea that you could reconstruct Evangelical beliefs on gun control or border security by reading the Bible is patently insane, but there is a cultural bonding ritual that comes from explaining how actually all of modern day Republican politics actually comes from the bible. People who don't get it are the outgroup, people who do are the in group.

I thought about this a lot while reading White Fragility. The ideas in it are not complex; rather, they are contradictory (Or at the very least, in extreme tension with each other) and explained incredibly badly.

This allows us to identify the in-group and out-group; our in-group are the people who are already so familiar with her ideas that they can take her rambling nonsense and explain that actually it's a bunch of simple, correct ideas (I can absolutely do this, by the way), while being confused or hostile marks you as a member of the out-group.

I may just make a different post about the other thing I wanted to talk about, which is how this stuff is different for black and white people.

McWhorter and a couple of other people I talked to reminded me that there were foot washing ceremonies during some of the George Floyd protests, and I just want to remind you all that any white person who washes the feet of a black protestor is symbolically casting themselves as Jesus Christ.

[wordsinhaled]

hope y'all are ready for another unhinged merlin post, friends

okay, because we always talk about how much merlin does to help and save arthur, and how drawn he is to him. but can we talk about how from the very beginning arthur has been indignant and ready to put himself in harm's way at the thought of harm coming to merlin??? i am at the beginning of my rewatch so i'm focusing mostly on the early eps, so -

in the THIRD episode, when merlin tries to turn himself in as a sorcerer - arthur (visibly distressed) covers for him immediately - not just because he thinks merlin couldn't possibly have magic, but because he knows merlin will be killed in gwen's stead

in the FOURTH episode - he'd rather drink from the poisoned chalice himself than have merlin drink it - an unheard of level of risk for someone to take for their manservant in camelot's society

like??? can we talk about how arthur's first thought the moment merlin is poisoned is, "sounds like fun, i'll brave a journey that'll put me in mortal peril for someone i've only known for a few months, at the longest"? can we talk about how he disobeys uther directly and sets out on his own, knowing that it could end to his own death? can we talk about how he and merlin are fucking psychically connected?

can we talk about how their interwoven destiny is known and used against both of them from the very beginning???

i want to talk too about uther's complete lack of understanding of how important merlin is to arthur. he just doesn't understand why arthur is so distressed, why he's willing to risk his life, why he's willing to sacrifice himself to save merlin. and arthur says it's because that's not the kind of king he would want to be. he says it's because he wants to be the kind of ruler who wouldn't discount a "mere" servant's life. he says that merlin saved his life, so of course he'd want to do the same for him. and of course, this is true - arthur is noble, and good-hearted, and he does the right thing even when it contravenes what his father would do or wants him to do

but like... there's the part where he genuinely cares for merlin, specifically - not just for a life debt owed, not just on the principle that a servant's life is equal to a lord's or a king's. merlin, specifically. it can be seen in the way he immediately rushes to protect merlin or to deflect attention away from him whenever merlin makes a scene in public at court that puts him at risk. in his visible worry when merlin drinks from the poisoned chalice. in the way he rushes to merlin's side after he collapses, and frets over him while gaius checks him over

and most of all (in this particular episode), it can be seen during the scene at the end - the scene shot over merlin's shoulder, where you see arthur entering gaius' chambers from behind merlin - and the relief that fills his face when he sees that merlin is up and eating, that's not prince arthur, or obnoxious lordling arthur; that's just arthur at his most genuine, with no posturing, when no one is paying attention to him. the way he takes a second before he schools himself to start up his usual banter with merlin, playing the taskmaster prince again, minimizing the risk he took for merlin's sake. but the way that persona falls again, and he tells merlin that he came to see if he was alright. tells merlin to get some rest

it's about merlin, specifically, and what he has come to mean to arthur. not just the life of any manservant, but merlin's life, merlin's importance to him

i also have a broader tangent about the relationship between uther and arthur & uther + homophobia, and how arthur's dynamic with merlin plays into it. "he's just a boy," uther tells morgana in this episode, and she counters, "have you seen your son lately?" and i think the trouble is uther has seen arthur lately, and he's not comfortable with what he sees. he doesn't understand arthur's closeness and attachment to merlin, and i'd argue that he's noticing his son's queerness and trying to stamp it out of him/trying to denial his way out of dealing with it directly. uther fits the mold of the toxically masculine/authoritarian father who sees the queerness in his child and responds by becoming even more cruelly authoritarian

as for arthur - arthur's been told since birth that he's crown prince, that he'll need to rule camelot, and produce his own heir to continue the line of camelot, and i would argue that arthur's need to prove himself, his bravado, his deep-seated need for his father's approval comes from the pressure also of knowing in his core that he doesn't measure up to what his father wants for him - he's kinder, yes, and more just - but also softer at heart, and queer in ways that aren't permitted for his time or station or for what he knows are his responsibilities as a future monarch. it comes to the fore whenever his connection to merlin hangs in the balance, when we're able to see arthur in unguarded moments when he can be his unadulterated self

i think we talk often about how merlin is drawn to arthur, and also i think it's very clear to see how merlin's magic is allegorical for queerness/closetedness, but my favorite to explore is how arthur gravitates towards merlin, and arthur's queerness, and it's especially apparent in these early episodes

and tl;dr basically merthur is WILD and i will never be normal about them even in the year of our lord 2023

[timeslugarts]

Second Pass.

Part 2 of my Vera x Vox fic (part 1 is here)

A/N - Oh man, I wrote this ahahahaha I feel like I've been working in this forever! I'm so pleased, though. I hope all of you enjoy it! FINALLY Vox knows her name. No beta, and like tell me how I did? The nerves for posting my writings are always so high with me.💙💖

Nsfw 💖💙

It has been a week, ONE WEEK, and Vox was still scouring the databases for the bitch that took his wallet. She had taken his wallet, for fucks sake. His. Wallet. This was more than just whatever money was inside, but about the principle of the matter. Of he, a great Overlord of Hell couldn't keep sinners in line than what good was he. He had to find her and make her pay.

"Oi, Vox!" Velvette's clipped tone snapped him out of his reverie.

"Not now Velvette darling." Vox spoke smoothly, but unmistakably irritated.

"Oh, are you still trying to find that tasty little thing that played you?" Velvette smirked haughtily at him. "You know if you wanted help, all you had to do was ask?"

Vox turned to glare at Velvette over his shoulder, "do you know something?"

She grinned and leaned on his desk, "I may or may not have gotten my hands on the guest list from Val's secretary."

"Val doesn't know?"

"Of course not! What do you think I am, stupid? And that secretary definitely won't be saying anything anytime soon." Her grin was malicious now.

"Oh Velvette I could kiss you!"

"Ew."

Vox stood up as Velvette handed him the guest list. Handwritten, weird.

"Anyways, I need a favor, Val trashed my fabrics closet after last night's little Angel mishap, so I need a whole new."

"Oh absolutely, anything you need." Vox really wasn't listening, already scanning through the list of names and aliases until one stood out.

Spitfire Demon.

He just knew it had to be her. Quickly going over to one of his many computers he typed the name in, a shifty photo and vague details appeared before his eyes. The photo was unmistakably her, her little blue flames glowing brightly and mucking up the view.

The only note that really stood out to him was added by Val.

NEED.

Vox could only assume he meant as an actress. How long has Val known about this woman and why is Vox just now finding out about her? He was a media empire! He should have more dirt on her than this bullshit. Along with Val's note was a list of presumably bars. Shit like, The Inferno Room, Lucifer's Lounge, and of course The Shit Hole.

This seemed like as good of a place as any to start his search, it was only until the night grew dark that he decided to slip away and zip through the wires until he came to his first stop, The Inferno Room.

Vox dusted off his jacket before entering the bar.

Why is she always hanging out in these disgusting places?

He spotted her almost immediately back pressed against the bar and a man looming dangerously close. He had her arm in a vice and seemed to be pulling her to him. Her little flames fluttered angrily around the guy, maybe trying to push him away, but to no avail.

The jingle of the door gave Vox away, however the only person to look up was her. Recognition flitted across her features and instead of the shock he was hoping for, a coy smile took place on her lips instead.

"Oh dear," she tutted at the man, "I did tell you my boyfriend would be showing up." She gave a brief nod in Vox's direction. The sinner looked over his shoulder and saw for the first time Vox in all his glory.

He had to play this up, he had to be the one to teach her a lesson, not this random asshole. So, for the pure sake of entertainment, he put on his best debonair smile and looked at his little flame.

"Is this man bothering you my dear?" He said cooly, sliding up next to her.

"V-vox, Mr. Vox, uh sir." The sinner was very aware of who he was which made this little play all the more fun for him.

The asshole had thrown her hand down in a panic and took a hesitant step back. Instead of making a break for it, she surprised Vox by pressing herself against him, his arm instinctually wrapping itself around her waist. She smiled gently up at him and he felt his heart stutter. The words she spoke next got him even more excited.

"He absolutely is, sweetheart." She batted her lashes and he squeezed her tighter to him. It almost felt real, they felt insync, like an actual couple. His grin turned manic at her implications, his eye widening, the rings of mind control turned on the poor asshat who just happened to mess with the wrong girl at the wrong time.

"Wait no I-" but it was too late, the sinner had looked into Vox's eye and was trapped. Now he would do anything, eat off the floor, give him his watch, kill himself. Dumb minds were so susceptible to his little power, it's what made being an Overlord so easy here in Hell, everyone was so ready to put their faith in anything. Vox briefly glanced at the woman at his side.

Maybe he'd try this on her later.

For now, a bit of fun wouldn't hurt. "You heard the lady, dog, maybe you should try being less annoying and more entertaining. How about a dance?" And just like that the lowly sinner started to dance, arms flailing about, no sense of rhythm, just hopping up and down. Almost like a monkey.

"Oh, isn't that interesting." She purred at his side, Vox's chest swelled a little with pride at that. "Maybe we should have him take his clothes next?" She grinned, languidly stroking her fingers up and down his back making him shiver.

"You heard the lady." Vox nodded his head to the still dancing man who had begun to sweat. Before the words left his mouth the sinner, without stopping, began undressing in the middle of the bar.

He was attempting to take his pants off while still hopping and dancing about. He had fallen multiple times now, once face flat on the floor breaking his nose. Blood poured freely from his nostrils. He was covered in sweat and blood, tears leaked from his eyes, he was starting to look disgusting, Vox grimaced at the pathetic sight.

On que, as if reading his mind, his spitfire whispered, "This is getting a little boring don't you think? We have other more fun things to do." She grabbed his hand and laced her finger through his. Vox looked down at their hands, thoughts racing through his mind.

Wasn't he supposed to be doing this to her? Why was she so comfortable around him? What was he supposed to do?

With everything racing through his mind he finally landed on, it was just a wallet, and gripped her hand tighter and followed as she began to lead him out of the building.

Vox let himself have one stray look back at the sinner who was breathing so hard now, hyperventilation was probably right around the corner. He looked down at the woman next to him and blinked. The sound of a neck breaking mixed with the jingle of chimes could be heard as they pushed open the door and made their way outside.

"I know a lovely little place, hidden on the outskirts of town. Very quiet, perfect for a little rendezvous." She had walked ahead of him pulling him along.

Vox wasn't sure what he was doing. He really wasn't sure what was going on at all. He just killed someone because she batted her pretty eyes at him. He had no problems killing someone, but doing it so willingly for someone else just because they said please? What was that!?

He had to remember why he was here, this bitch took his wallet! Him! The Vox! One of the Vees!

They were approaching yet another grungy looking bar and Vox couldn't help but chuckle.

"Is something funny?" She twirled around to face him. Eyes bright, little flames dancing gently, an eyebrow arched.

Vox pushed her into the side of the building, caging her in with his arms. "Are you taking me here to rob me blind again? These gross bars seem to be your m/o."

Still she didn't seem startled; she only looked up at him through lidded eyes. Vox had to ignore the heat that went to his crotch.

"On the contrary kitten," she placed her hands on his chest. "I plan on paying you back." She took a finger and lightly traced the edge of his screen. Vox raised his own eyebrow to match.

"Lead the way." He whispered, breath already heavy with want. "This better be good, you stole quite a bit." He resumed his pace next to her.

"Oh hush, you have more than enough to make up for it being the great Vox of Voxtech after all. " She nudged him with her hip.

"So you did your research?" He asked, cocking a brow.

She laughed, it was musical, like bells. "Only after the fact," she grinned, "if it wasn't for your ID I wouldn't have thought otherwise."

"Can I have that back by the way? It's kind of important."

"Hmm," she tapped her chin in mock thought. "Only if you're good."

They pushed through the doors into the new bar, this one was filled with smoke and low music that thrummed in one's chest. She smiled and waved at the bartender who waved back.

Vox rolled his eyes, "is there a skeezy joint in town that you don't know?"

"I only know the good ones, the ones with dark corners for sharing dark secrets." She grinned, pushing him into a small room.

There wasn't time for questions, the wallet was the last thing on Vox's mind as he stumbled on to the small bed.

She locked the door and turned the lights low, her flames brilliantly shining in the dim lights. Her ponytail was the first to go, instead of falling around her shoulders the blue of her hair gently wafted around her, almost like a halo.

Her black dress fell to her ankles and Vox had to stop himself from choking. Her pink flesh was so tantalizing and the lacey black undertakings she wore were just begging to be torn to shreds. If she had used his money to buy them he couldn't even be mad, they looked so good on her.

"Your turn." She whispered as she straddled him, fingers making their way to his bowtie and slowly undoing the knot. Once that had slipped from his neck and onto the ground she began shrugging him out of his jacket which she unceremoniously threw to the floor. The tightness in his pants had started to become uncomfortable, she was moving so slowly. He decided to help, moving his hands to quickly undo the buttons.

She slapped his hands lightly. "Ah ah ah, I told you I was going to pay you back. So just relax." She replaced his hands with her own and began working her way down. With each little bit of his skin that appeared she would kiss it gently.

Vox laid his head back and tried to steady his breathing. Sex with Val was fast and rough, it was almost like a business transaction in it of itself, they only ever fucked if one of them needed relief. To have someone move so slow and touch him so softly was making his heart race.

After removing his shirt she finally, finally, got to the button on his pants. His dick was so hard by now it was embarrassing, the tent in pants was very visible and she licked her lips at the sight.

"It would seem you definitely need someone to take care of you darling."

"I absolutely do not need any-" he groaned as she grabbed at him through the fabric. The pressure finally gave him some relief.

"What were you saying?"

"Fuck-zt you." He panted out. She popped the button on his trousers and paused, raising an eyebrow and looking up at him.

"Shut up!" He blushed, his boxers clearly visible with tiny TVs peppering the fabric.

"I think it's cute." She cooed. Anything Vox was about to say got stuck in his throat as his dick finally sprung free. Rock hard and leaking precum the cold air causing him to his.

She lowered her head and placed a gentle kiss on the tip. Tongue swirling around and lapping up the precum that had spilled. Vox inhaled sharply. Her hand grabbed the base of his cock as she licked a long stripe from the bottom to the top before taking him in her mouth in one fluid motion. Instinctually he bucked up into her mouth. She felt so fucking good, so warm and wet.

He groaned as she tightened her grip and began sucking him off.

Fuck she was really good at this part. The feeling of her tongue moving around him in her mouth, the movement from her hand. Her other hand was wrapped around his hip, keeping him in his place. His claws were on either side of him, tearing at the sheets, as he moaned and panted.

The slurping noises she was making were so lewd and the way she was looking at him, Satan alive he had no control over himself. Before the band could snap she removed herself, Vox whined at the loss.

"Tut tut, no whining here," she climbed on top of him, legs stretched on either side of him, "momma's here to take care of you." A slight snap of her hips had him groaning, the friction was too good.

He looked at her through a hazy of lust, drool dribbled down her chin, Vox lazily lifted his hand and wiped it away with his thumb. She wrapped her hands around his own, pulling his thumb over to her mouth and sucking on the digit.

"God you're so hot." He continued to move his thumb so traced the shape of her plush lips, so black and soft. She leaned into the touch hair spilling over to the side, he reached his claws out to touch the blue fires only to find that it was soft and warm. It didn't hurt at all.

He was so focused on the feel of her hair that when she pushed down on his dick he let out a pathetic choked moan. He could only be embarrassed for a second before she started rolling her hips against him. He could feel himself throbbing inside her, the delicious stretch of her walls around him. He may be stuck in Hell, but he could pretend that Heaven felt like this.

She picked up the pace and started to bounce on his lap. He let out a garbled, "close." His breathing was labored, his screen was glitching and small sparks of electricity were flying off of him.

As she continued to move her hips she leaned over and whispered "Alright, now be good for me and cum, don't worry, I can take it all."

That sent Vox so far over the edge. He could feel himself release inside of her, filling her up, her walls clenching around his dick as she came with him. She moaned and he swore it was the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

They were panting, she was leaning over him breathing into his shoulder the warmth from her breath dancing over him. His claws stroked her sides as also tried to calm himself down. Lifting her leg and tucking her body into his, she snuggled close. Vox wrapped his arm around her as they lay quietly, her fingers tracing nonsensical shapes on his chest. It was nice, peaceful.

A little blue flame danced into his sight, Vox stuck his hand out and it zipped in between his fingers finally hovering lightly over his palm. Just like her hair it was warm and soft, almost like a thick mist.

"What even are these?" He whispered in the dim lighting.

She only yawned in return and snuggled deeper, "I'll tell you about them some other time."

If his head had been with him he would've understood the implications of that statement, but instead all he did was hum in acknowledgement. His eyes were heavy, and his little blue flame was already asleep at his side. He looked down at her sleeping form, her hair gently drifting about her face. Her small fires had died down, only producing a subtle light, as if they too were sleeping. Vox pulled the covers so they were underneath them making sure they were comfortable and snug. Vox grinned to himself as he slowly drifted off next to his little flame.

When he awoke he was almost disappointed to find the bed was empty, but he couldn't say he was surprised.

After finding almost all his clothes he noticed on the bedside table was his wallet, and on his wallet a hastily scribbled note.

Borrowed your jacket, promise I'll give it back next time

XOXO Vera

And underneath that was a phone number. Vox looked hard at the note.

Vera.

He finally knew her name. His little blue flame, his Vera.

[normal-thoughts-official]

transfem wyll is so fucking top tier though

like. okay. first of all, the obvious. wyll's forced transformation as a metaphor for the expectations forced on trans people's bodies. because nonconsensual body modification aside, the problem with wyll's transformation is and has always been the way this will make him be perceived by others, not the form itself. this works whether you have transfem wyll or transmasc wyll, but transfem wyll opens the door for transitioning as a form of healing from that transformation, too

wyll hasn't had any bodily autonomy in, well, pretty much ever, considering the pact was made when wyll was still a kid and it's heavily implied that ulder had a pretty military style of raising wyll (making wyll recite the four principles every morning and shit like that). mizora could, and would, change that body to her own will, pretty much whenever she wanted, as a natural extension of owning wyll's soul. wyll frequently refers to himself as mizora's puppet; a metaphor that directly evokes a lack of control over one's own body

so in that context, transitioning also means reclaiming herself. it's taking that body back and making it hers, to represent who she is, and now who mizora wants her to be or what other people expect someone with her body to be. that is always the case with transitioning, of course, but it also adds an extra layer of more obvious healing in that context

i also think wyll's core issues as a character work very well as an "egg" metaphor; wyll is a person who lives, first and foremost, for other people. he (and I'm using "he" here because I'm referring to wyll's canon character, not my hcs as a transfem wyll) is what he thinks he needs to be to be able to help others, what he thinks others want him to be. he is not himself. he is constantly playing a game of pretend, to be this picture perfect hero, more of an image (and a myth) than a person. if that isn't the pre-transition experience, i don't know what is

it also adds a new layer to why wyll has these issues in the first place. like, don't get me wrong, i think they make perfect sense in canon. but if she's transfem, then her willingness to endure pretty much anything for the sake of others makes even more sense. she's already constantly uncomfortable, constantly feeling out of place, constantly feeling like she's coming up short of what she needs to be, is expected to be, and feel and act like. so what's another discomfort, and another, and another, and another, and another? what's giving up one more part of herself when she doesn't feel like she gets to be "herself" anyway? what's constantly ignoring her own needs for the sake of prioritizing other people?

more of the same

and that's easy to do

and so she does it, and sacrifices every part of herself she has to give, again and again and again. wyll's fundamental disconnect with wyll's own personhood (as in being a person who has needs and flaws and is more than just a means to help other people) makes even more sense if she's an egg, and, in turn, also helps explain why she hasn't realized she's trans. she's never stopped to think about herself as a person with needs and wants, so why should she?

also, that sense of guilt trans people often have, of trying to compensate for their whole existence, feeling like they're gonna be "found out" and not even knowing as what, goes so well with wyll's obsession with moral perfection. if she is trying to compensate her innate sense of wrongness and unbelonging that she doesn't understand and can never quite get rid of, of course she would try to be the most picture perfect person ever. who can do no wrong, always puts others before herself, never makes any mistakes. again, wyll's reasons for acting like that make perfect sense in canon, but wyll as a transfem adds even more layers that i think are juicy to explore

and of course most of what i cited here is also experienced by transmascs, but i think wyll's issues are so much more fitting for a pre-transition experience. also, im a transmasc wyll enjoyer too. we should all kiss about it

in short: wyll's character as a metaphor for living pre-transition works exceedingly well, and that also means that transitioning can be an experience of healing from all the trauma wyll went through. transitioning is always healing, in my opinion, but in this case it can be a culmination of finally allowing herself to think about herself and her needs first, and taking her body for herself, which makes it more powerful

disclaimer: im not claiming these are universal trans or transfem experiences or that everyone deals with being trans this way. im just saying those are common feelings among trans people that can find reverberation in wyll's character

[pigeon-behavior]

I thought I would put together a little reading list.

This is SUPER not comprehensive, but if you're looking to build your knowledge a little, here's at least some sort of place to start.

Not all of these will be directly about pigeons, but the concepts they teach can be applied to animals of all kinds.

Here's those more generalized books:

Don't Shoot the Dog!: The New Art of Teaching and Training by Karen Pryor.

This book came out in the 80s, and it is still one of the best resources there are for learning how training and influencing behavior works. Even if you don't intend to be training, the principles in this book can help you learn how to bond with your pigeon by following rules it can understand.

The Moral Animal: Why We Are the Way We Are - The New Science of Evolutionary Psychology by Robert Wright.

This book is about humans. But truthfully, it doesn't matter. The core concepts discussed will help you to look at behaviors in all sorts of species and to make more educated guesses about why they exist. Sometimes, knowing what the problem is is half the battle. I think I'm personally just well suited to learning pigeon behavior, but I can't lie and tell you that this didn't help me a lot.

Here's a book that is about birds, but doesn't focus on pigeons:

Handbook of Bird Biology 2nd Edition by Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology

DO NOT GET THE 3RD EDITION. Much of the substance has been stripped from the 3rd edition, quite bafflingly. You want the edition that came out in 2004 and has a green cover.

This is a fairly comprehensive educational textbook about birds as a whole. You will find pigeons mentioned throughout the book but no bird is a direct focus. No matter your questions about birds, I'm sure at least one will be answered in the book. Maybe not even one you knew you had.

Books that do focus on pigeons:

A Pocket Guide to Pigeon Watching: Getting to Know the World's Most Misunderstood Bird by Rosemary Mosco

This is an extremely charming but well-researched little book of facts accompanied by very cute illustrations. I bought this the day it came out, and I do not regret it. If you want an easy-but-informative read, this is it.

Pigeon Genetics: Applied Genetics in the Domestic Pigeon by Axel Sell

This is sort of the current genetics book for learning about what is happening genetically with our birds. Depending on your education you may find parts of this book inaccessible, but I think there's probably still plenty that you could absorb, and it is filled with pictures of beautiful and interesting birds.

Unfortunately it can be really hard to get your hands on this book. I don't know if it is in active print. It is also from Germany, so getting it elsewhere can be extremely costly.

And it's definitely not here -> link <- You definitely shouldn't go into this link and download anything

And, just as a bit of a swerve, a website:

If you need to learn the bare basics of pigeon genetics, this website is crazy good for that. You should be aware that not every gene is as cut-and-dry on-or-off as they present it for the sake of learning, so you aren't extremely confused a bit later when you have some of this knowledge down and are trying to apply it.

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[divine-crows]

Anecdotes on How to Incorporate Art and Magic Without Failing

I love creating things, and I equally love being in tune with my spiritual side. I find that when I try to mesh the two I quickly feel burnt out both from the mental planning it takes for projects, and partly from having to pour in so much energy into every ounce of what I create. I dabble in traditional drawn art, crochet, knitting, and embroidery. As a result, my tips will be more focused on those areas, but I hope to provide some help to those interested in art magic regardless of their chosen art format.

Without further ado- here are some tips on how to increase your success in art magic based on my personal experience.

1. Do not get caught up in weaving in every little feeling and detail.

When I first started my art magic journey, I would get caught up in making sure I completely focused on my intent while I was creating my works. Since most spells emphasize how important it is to maintain focus on intent, I was under the impression that my journey into art magic would apply the same principle. However, I found that this was hard to maintain and would lead to me getting frustrated with my wandering mind.

Instead, I would advise as approaching it as being in a meditative state. You let your mind ebb and flow-- you acknowledge the thoughts and you let them go, occasionally thinking of the intent of course.

2. Utilize symbolism (numbers and colors aplenty)

This is my solution to my issue with focused intent. Whenever I include colors, animals, or numbering I use it as a tool to focus my intent. For me, it enables my mind to wander freely, while still having piece of mind towards the intent. I mainly use animal and plant symbolism along with color symbolism, but there are plenty of other things you can incorporate.

3. Working in Spell Elements Beforehand and Afterhand

Sometimes I like to start a project by reciting a chant before I begin a project. Typically it'll be a sort of enchantment I'll plance on the tool used to create the project, and following up with a sort of spell to incorporate that enchantment to the art I made. You can also ground yourself before you make art, or you can craft a spell to seal the intent into the artwork.

4. Listening to Music that Matches your Intent.

If you're like me, you probably enjoy having something else to focus on while you work. Putting together a playlist with songs that capture the emotions you want to pour into your spell can be perfect for that reason.

5. Take Breaks from Art Magic to do Things Just for the Sake of Doing It

It's easy to stress over making everything perfect and doing everything in some contrived "proper" way, but I find that when I worry too much that's when I lose sight on what makes my art feel magical. Sometimes that means setting down a piece to do something else, sometimes that means making silly fanart, and sometimes that means I don't touch anything art related for a week so I can find purpose again.

Your art is a reflection of your soul, or it can be a reflection of the world and people around you. It's messy, it's ugly, it's beautiful, it's perfect. All at the same time. Give yourself room to just enjoy yourself every once in a while.

6. Let Yourself be Spontaneous

I'm the type of person where I always have an idea of how things should be in my head-- which also means I can't stand it when things don't quite work out in my favor. In cases of doing art magic, I've found that the best thing I can do is listen to my gut instinct even if it means doing something way different than I would normally want to create. Try out abstract art, incorproate junk into your paintings, try a new medium!

[ravenbrooks]

Living room chat

Summary: Principle Abanante has a chat with Nicky's parents

‌ "Mr and Mrs Roth," Principal Abanante began, "I'm sure all of this has been hard on your family. Especially on Nicky, hm?"

Jay and Luanne Roth didn't respond. They sat across from her in their living room, sitting in the plush orange sofa. Jay held a Ho-Ho candy and Luanne had a cup of coffee in hand.

"How has his recovery been?"

"He's...been recovering fine," Luanne finally said, though it was easy to tell from her expression that even she didn't believe it. "He's been getting better," she repeated herself as if trying to convince herself and her husband rather than convince the principal.

She didn't believe it at all, with how jumpy he was at school, and how he'd leave school early so often. However she went along with it for the sake of the family. "What...is there anything that happened during...the incident that the school should know? To make his time easier on him."

Jay responded this time, sighing first, "He hasn't told us anything just yet. He hasn't told anyone anything yet."

Just as the principal was about to open her mouth to say something, Jay spoke again. "He's really...he's really adamant that Mr Peterson didn't do anything."

"I'm sorry, this...whole situation is just so..." Luanne started, putting her coffee down and covering her face with her hands.

"It's not your fault," Principle Abanante said, in the same tone she had always used to tell parents about Nicky in the past. How he used to have a reputation for being a bad student and talking about Mr Peterson being a horrible person. She cringed a little, remembering it. She regrets saying that to so many students, maybe if she didn't then this wouldn't have happened. "He's just a very determined boy."

"..." Luanne stayed silent for a moment, before sitting up. "About what we called for. Do you really think it'd be better if we homeschool him, Miss Abanante?"

"It might help. Of course, it depends on Nicky, but it seems like I'd be a good fit for him after all that happened."

‌ Nicky sat in the closet under the stairs, straining his ears to listen in on them. His parents would probably get upset at him for hiding down there again, cry about him "wanting to go back into the basement," even though that's not even true. He just liked how cramped it was sometimes.

Homeschooling. He never considered he'd get homeschooled. He expected his family would pack up again, and move states away to a house with another colour, like they did over and over before Raven Brooks. He never finished unpacking here, so it wouldn't be hard. He's been expecting that they'll just move away ever since the second they got here. The second Aaron went missing...

He wanted to burst out of the closet and beg them to let him keep going to school. He know he wasn't a good fit to stay in person, but if he had to be stuck in a house...at home again, he'd probably loose his mind. But he just had to wait.

Authors Note: this is my first time writing fan fiction like ever. I hope it's not that bad (*^◯^*) I do want to try again another time. I fear I may have mischaracterized Jay and Luanne if so I am so sorry (^-^;

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

Thinking about those dudes who came to help Mustang on Promised Day. They were under his command during the genocide and were thankful to him bc his pillars of flame kept them safe. I initially thought they must've quit the army or smth after the genocide and were a contact Mustang had with a bond/gratitude that he could cash in on when he needed help, so I wondered what they were doing between that and Promised Day, maybe some underground spy thing, maybe some inconspicuous life in reserve to be called in when he needed, NOPE! THEY WERE IN THE MILITARY THIS WHOLE TIME. UNDER GRUMMAN. Truly my lofty expectations have let me down.

Seeing as not Mustang, not his men, not his former men, none of them seemingly having any outside ally contacts or dabbling in smth underground like I dunno hiding as some bumfuck civilian work, aside from Madame Christmas and her whole thing, made me so... I don't even know how to describe it. Did I overestimate Mustang? Like, not even trying to expand their sphere of influence or smth? I dunno what I'm even expecting out of them anymore.

Mustang wanted to rise in the ranks protecting the few under him with his limited power until he got on top, okay, but like. What will he do if/when he is asked to participate in another genocide? Are the lives he's taken, that he's going to take, an acceptable price for his dream? Trying to change nothing? Nothing at all? Not even “from the inside” like Miles ‘tried’?

If the Amestrian military gov were to tell Mustang to put down a group of people who also want to change Amestris albeit by overhauling it instead of conforming to it, a radical group who might have the power to sway people to think like them, do you think Mustang will do it?

I wonder what Miles would think of such a group as well. Of his daughter (OC) being part of it.

Oh yeah, those guys. I forgot they existed! But now that I'm not only reminded that they were A Thing, but also reminded (informed? I forget, was this confirmed in Brotherhood as well?) that they continued to have thriving careers in the military under Grumman I can confidently say: oh for fuck's sake.

The ethos of mangahood is that reform is necessary, and must come from within. Unfortunately this precludes it from entertaining the notion of solidarity with non-establishment groups and rebels. (Though typically working with cops and soldiers, former or active duty, doesn't bode well for more principled revolutionaries and for the common folk but hey.) Mustang's approach is meant to be taken seriously because we're not even supposed to think about what other alliances could be made outside of the few dissenting military personnel.

Nevermind the fact that none of these soldiers even so much as retire or defect. And nevermind that it would counter the staunch "reform from within" perspective if we had to actually show those who want to aid in toppling the government who have become angry, jaded, or irreverent towards the state. Why, that's for beating out of Scar so everyone can swallow the correct lesson: soldiers are the best among us, who are sometimes commanded to do sad things. Enlist to fix this!

It really makes Studio Bones' decision to create McDougal and have the first episode kicked off by quelling a nearly successful destruction of Central just. Such a fucking choice. The implications are massive, and they don't reflect well on any of our protags whatsoever.

See, I can usually enjoy the tragicomedy of our dickhead protags realizing to their petrified astonishment later that, "Oh no. Oh no oh no oh fuck we fought that one guy whom we could have allied with instead and would have had [in some respects] a far easier time taking down this regime together on a quicker timeline, rather than aligning our coup with the Promised Day." Obviously we don't get such self-awareness ever, so I don't even get to enjoy a wry chuckle at their expense.

McDougal's Brotherhood-exclusive existence is the most damning and ironic choice for this adaptation the writing team could have made. Fma broadly is not good at showing organized resistance. Outside of the military dissenters, it's lone actors all the way down. I'm not expecting some sort of high minded polemic on insurrectionist anarchism or Marxist organizing etc etc, but it is a notable blind spot. So McDougal, in canon, being a one-man army against Amestris, who rightfully didn't trust any of these other career genociders he once fought alongside to take up the cause with him, and is felled without a second thought and without internal crisis by Big """Revolutionary""" Mustang and friends cements right out the gate that this story will not handle any of its harder themes well.

Sadly, McDougal's fate answers your questions for you. Mustang would absolutely oppose any threat to the current government that isn't spearheaded by him and his lackeys. Given that he only calls on former squad mates and the Briggs squadron to back his coup, he never cared to consider anyone outside of their ranks for a multi-disciplinary attack. If we had gotten a chance to see Mustang curse the fact that someone had murdered McDougal, instead of apprehending him so that Mustang could perhaps orchestrate his freedom and collaborate with a growing cell of rebels, that could have been an interesting character moment that makes Mustang a 0.5% less putrid bootlicking dictator-wannabe than he actually is.

If they won't serve as part of his new government's military force and appropriated economic hub (the military arm in Ishval, using Scar for this purpose), then he won't organize with them. Again though, so long as he remains in the military, with a goal to gain a higher station in the state, any underground cells or anti-state groups would be better off rejecting someone like Mustang as the fed he is.

(We both know Scar alone pokes a hundred more holes into whatever miniscule revolutionary, liberation of the people potential Mustang ever had in mind.)

Canon Miles would agree with Mustang's approach, but the Miles of Sunburst Sandstorm is going to suffer a head-on collision with the hypocrisy of his position. Maybe it won't happen right away, but his daughter's involvement with these Ishvalan liberationists and her fury against him and the military would have to tear the blindfold off of his mind. It's either that, or the tragedy of her family continues to its logical end.

[punkitt-is-here]

ooough its punkitt thoughts on mlp season 5 wow!!

finished season 5 last night! putting Twlight in a position where she couldn't just DBZ laser beam her way out of the villain this time made for a much more thematically resonant resolution with the main baddy. Tirek was completely forgettable because the challenge was mostly just beating the shit out of him; cool animation for sure, but for a show based on its character interactions I think there could have been something a lil deeper. Putting Twilight in a spot where she straight-up cannot brute-force her way through the solution unless she and the villain come to an understanding was a smart choice on the writer's part to avoid that happening this time around.

seeing all those AUs with the apocalypses was kind of crazy and super fan-indulgent but I think after five seasons of normal horse stuff I think you deserve to get kind of wacky and fan-indulgent in some ways? like, yeah, even if it MAY have jumped the shark a lil in this season, there's still a solid 3 seasons of Lauren Faust-type beat stuff and Season 4 and 5 have some of my favorite episodes of the series so far. I get why people hopped ship around this point but as An Adult In My 20s Who Enjoys An Optimistic and Well-Written Cartoon (not the initial target audience) 4 and 5 are more up my alley in terms of situations to slap those equines in. Someone on the staff was DEFINITELY aware of the popularity of fan stories like Fallout Equestria and stuff and you could tell a lot of alternate timelines were mostly made with a "wouldn't that be a cool thing for fans to expand on?" mindset which might be offputting for some but honestly I'm a fan of Kingdom Hearts and One Piece and shit so doing things that are Cool For The Sake Of Cool is far from something i dislike on principle.

I also think that it's silly that folks felt like Starlight shouldn't have been redeemed and instead punished or something! She clearly didn't know what she was doing and, stepping outside the in-universe lore for a moment, this is once again still a show about rainbow horses aimed at kids called Friendship Is Magic. Having someone who caused an entire apocalypse because she had a friendship problem is like, ripe for the picking for Redeeming Their Ass. I felt like that montage of Starlight hanging out did leagues more for me in terms of redeeming a villain than all of Discord's post-redemption episodes combined because it actually showed The Mane 6 being charitable and kind and having fun with Starlight rather than us just being told. That's the power of a montage baby!

Honestly it felt like a series finale, in a sense, even tho I know we're far from that. I love a good wrapping bow on a good season, though, so even if it felt very ending-ish I still think it went out with a bang. good season and im very excited to see where we go next with starlight she's neat :]]]

[terrence-silver]

What signature moves do TIG's characters have (any that you want, but as always I'm partial to CK Terry and Cash) when trying to seduce beloved for the first time? I know that most mortals would hop into bed with him without him needing to lift a finger, but let's say for argument's sake beloved doesn't want to seem easy.

---

― For Terry Silver, one would think his signature move of seduction is flaunting his wealth, money, connections, mansions, cars, material possessions and himself too primarily, because, well, he's Terry Silver and he knows entirely the effect he has on people, a factor he majorly and very gleefully exploits at any given opportunity, but I feel strategies like this are ironically reserved for individuals and situations he has an entirely transactional leaning towards. You scratch my back, I reward you for your due diligence once you deserve it because nothing's for free. He's a shrewd businessman and Machiavellian after all and some things in life are strictly business. For people he genuinely likes, though? His seduction equals with big promises he entirely intends to make come true to their fullest and then some. Promises of everlasting devotion. Protection. Fealty. Pretty much fixing someone's life from the bottom up. Helping his person get away with bloody murder, if need be. You name it. Terry flinches from nothing. Never. He's a shockingly gracious and stubbornly forthcoming person to be loved by when you really think about it. At his most honest, Terry can be as blunt and transparent as grabbing someone by the shoulders, looking right into their eyes and just openly telling them everything he intends to do for them for the rest of their life, always, and then staying true to his word with every fiber of his being seeing as how he makes it his life's mission to do right by his beloved. If that isn't enough to not only seduce someone but make them swoon with intoxicated wonder and bewilderment, then I don't know what will.

― In the case of Terry McCain, jumping into bed isn't paramount to him, because in his own words, vaguely paraphrased from memory, that isn't a priority to him and he's not that kind of guy. Even though, validly, he could get all the action he wanted if he wanted. Thing is, he doesn't want it. Not from just anyone. Only one special person. Catholic principles, huh? As such, his signature move is poised more on love and how he achieves that is by being available for his beloved whenever and however --- whether they agree to it or not. Which means this man will almost stubbornly be in beloved's shadow, tail them, be close at hand, pester them to a degree if need be and pretty much insert himself into their life until he's accepted by them however long it takes. Breaking into their life, privacy and sphere, literally and figuratively isn't entirely out of the question either. He is stubborn, he is temperamental and he won't give up until the subject of his affection accepts him and his advances; a tactic slightly contradictive for a man who's existence is dedicated to the upholding of law and order. But, you see, Terry doesn't think he's doing anything wrong or that he's even some sort of sleaze with ulterior motives who's committing a crime of passion. Not like those lowlives on the streets he apprehends. He is himself and they're...them. No, no, he seduces by being consistently there until it becomes a given he's sleeping with you. And eventually? You'll simply have to understand and accept just how much he cares for you. That he's the best for you. Always was. Just took him never giving up for you to see it.

― Gus Travis is a gangbanger and his method of seduction is, initially at least, typically streetwise and the approach any tatted up bad man in a leather jacket with a gun tucked into his jeans would go for; a hint of danger, a hint of sexiness, coming at you first and doing so boldly, buying you a drink or five, putting his arms around you, heated banter, flirting very openly, jealously getting in your space and ensuring every other person within eye distance steers clear of you because for the time being, this is his turf. But, it ain't that simple, because Gus has layers to him and while he might seem like a dangerous, detached criminal sort (and god knows he is) the very process of the seduction it takes to get you into bed might just hit Gus harder than the very subject of the seduction and he very well could end up smitten with you when it was you was supposed to be enchanted by him first and he might end up smitten way before he gets anywhere near second base. Man falls into his own trap, in a sense, and yeah, suddenly, getting to fuck you simply isn't enough anymore. He's here thinking being exclusive, claiming you, making you the Bonnie to his Clyde, tattooing your face over his heart, marriage, being partners in crime, and for all we know, sailing the seven seas with you in a boat bearing your name. His imagination runs wild and he seduces himself where you are concerned. Man's actually pathetically in love and he gets to this state awfully quickly. What starts out as him trying to get into your pants might just result in being tied to him in matrimony a week from then.

― Jack Blaylock's signature move of seduction is being relatable. Being more or less just some guy working as a PI out abroad. Posing himself as interesting enough to be peculiar and catch the attention of those who seek him out and even those who don't, with a dash of being seemingly ordinary enough to feel secure. Being that whiff of civilian normality, safety and the known in an unknown place. You could almost be relieved wherever you're travelling in the world that you stumbled upon a kindred spirit like him in a sea of strangers and that as a result, you've someone to share similar topics with, similar interests, anecdotes, worldviews, desires, but little do you know Jack, or rather Timothy, deliberately placed himself on your path and designed whatever persona he presents to you to intentionally appeal to you so far from your roots. To get you to trust him. Open up to him. Come to him for help and advice. Put your guard down. To give him the chance to befriend you. Sure, act the honeypot by taking you to bed and making it seem like a spontaneous development of things. This is a professional deformation of his, being an undercover Hitman --- utilizing subterfuge to get a target disarmed. Not that you're a target...but in a way, yeah, yes you are. You're his target. The prime target. The target that matters most. So, fact is, Jack will literally befriend you straight into seduction, into his bed and then right into his crosshairs.

― When it comes to Cash, I don't figure he seduces --- he just takes. Because, keep in mind, he's not the oratorial type. He isn't a schmoozer. He won't charm in the classical sense. He won't act slick. He won't be braggadocious. He won't utilize big words. Sometimes even no words at all. He won't jump through verbal hoops of fire to knock someone off their feet because that's just not in his character to do. His signature 'move' isn't him being any sort of Casanova. His signature move is his quiet audacity. The fact he'll know all your whereabouts. The in's and out's of your life. Your comings. Goings. That he'll totally abuse the privileges of his badge to discover all he can about you. What's the worst that can happen? He'll get suspended? Heck, he already got suspended for much, much worse. That he'll watch. Observe from afar. In broad daylight, if need be. Yes. Stalk. And he doesn't even particularly care if it's stalking. He developed an interest and this territory? You in it? It's all his. One step at a time, without beloved, beloved you even noticing he slips closer and closer to the target and by the time you two officially 'meet' you'll never really know that Cash has already met you months ago and knows everything there is to know about you. Who would've thought? He seems so unassuming too. Strong, silent type. Cop. The way you 'met'? Undoubtedly just as unassuming and day-to-day ordinary to the degree there's no discernable tactic one can single out for Cash to use. He just appears in your life. And yet, all the strategies he utilized to get there were undoubtedly a web of complex machinations tucked behind a silent facade that ensure you'll never even put two and two together that this man basically besieged your whole life and virtually took you hostage a long time ago.

― Jan Valek doesn't have signature moves in the modern, contemporary understanding of it all. Man's medieval. Quite literally speaking. His manner is medieval. His view of things is medieval. And his approach is, in weird ways, medieval too, regardless of the fact he's been alive for six centuries; much of him hasn't changed and remained frozen in time, just like he himself has. There's something almost chivalrous to him in spite of him being quite literally The Father of the Damned. There's something worshipful and adoring as he presses a lingering kiss to his beloved's hand, talks about them in highly idealistic and poetic terms and looks at them like they hung the stars and the moon itself on the sky right from the get go, mixing raw eroticism with an anachronistic, near courtly feel for romance, quite literally loving them into seduction and it could, technically, taking a vampire's innate, supernatural charm into consideration, take him no time at all to consummate beloved, as such, his trick, if it can even be called a trick, on how he gets beloved to open up for him like a blossoming flower is by downright wooing them like they're heavenly perfection itself and in his eyes --- they are. None of this is a ploy or a ruse. Manipulation. Strategy. For Jan Valek, this is absolute honesty. His undead heart wholly and entirely on display. So, if beloved gives in, it'll be genuinely because of how unabashedly lionizing and reverent Jan Valek is towards them, bordering on deification. After all, how many people, immortal or mortal will compare the subject of their interest to God's light and the Sun itself and actually mean it?

[suckerforcate]

Ello! i love ur works and i just wanna request a Larissa Weems x Daughter! Reader prompt.

Reader's feeling sick but she insists on attending class as usual. She doesn't want to tell Larissa because she don't want to add stress or burden to her already tired mom. But later on Larissa found out through one of the teachers or like one of reader's friend. I just want fluffff and I love the way you writeeee thank uuuuuu <33

You're not a burden

Pairing: Larissa Weems x daughter!Reader

Word Count: 463

Warning: none (?)

A/n: As you said yourself, I've written something very similar. But I'm a sucker for Larissa as a mother so I still wanted to write it! <3

You had woken up, feeling exhausted. Even though you had just slept for eight hours. It felt like your whole body ached. Standing up you nearly fell back down onto the bed, seeing black for a second and feeling your circulation nearly collapse. For a short moment you thought about staying home, but then your mum would want to stay too, and she had so much to do already. You didn't want to burden her, so you tried to pull yourself together and got ready for school.

"Are you alright, honey? You look a little sick." Larissa looked at you, worried.

"It's alright mum. I'm just not really woken up yet." Your mum put a plate with eggs and some bread in front of you, and stopped to tousle through your hair.

"Is that so, sleepyhead." She laughed and sat down with you to eat. You really didn't have any appetite but for your mother's sake, you choked the food down. Making you almost throw up ten minutes later.

The day was horrible, you couldn't concentrate and felt like falling asleep the whole time. You had drunken about three litres of water already and still had a headache. Of course that didn't go unnoticed by your teachers.

--------------------

"Principle Weems, do you have a second?"

"Of course, Marilyn. What is it?"

"If your daughter isn't better until tomorrow, maybe she should just stay home." Larissa was confused, you had been well this morning, hadn't you?

"What'd wrong with her?" Concern overtaking her features.

"She was exhausted the whole day, neatly falling a sleep. I think she might have a fever."

---------------------

"Honey?" Larissa had rushed to your apartment immediately.

"Honey, are you there?" She rushed through the rooms, looking for you. In your room, already laying in bed she found you.

"Oh, (Y/n). You should have just told me that you were sick this morning. You could have stayed home." You slowly turned around to look at your mother, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"I know, but I didn't want to burden you with even more work. You're always so stressed already." Larissa warmly smiled at you, kissing your forehead.

"Darling, you're never a burden, and you're not work. You're my daughter, and I'll gladly care for you. I'll always have time for that, no matter what's going on. Ok?" You nodded and watched her leave and come back with all sorts of things to make you feel better. She messed your temperature and gently did calf wraps, she brought you water and some painkillers. She cuddled you and let you sleep in her arm.

Needless to say that the next day, you did in fact stay home. And Larissa did too. Caring for you and loving you all day long.