#but it is the gateway to much much more spice

[sinkat-arts]

Three Weeks

(Follow up to 24 hours)

Kurodai | 22k | Explicit

(E rating because they're talking about things pretty openly... sorry, no actual spicy times in this one, guys)

Three weeks have passed since Daichi met Kuroo and had the strangest, most wonderful weekend in... probably his whole damn life. Even better... through some miraculous twist of fate, Kuroo seems to be just as into Daichi as Daichi is into Kuroo.

Of course, that miracle hasn't come without complications. That'd be too easy, wouldn't it?

“It’s just,” he said, choking a little on the words, “If you say all that to anyone… what… what makes me special, I guess.” As soon as he said it, he realized how childish it sounded. He shook his head sharply and rubbed his face. “No, that’s stupid, I’m sorry…”  “Hey,” Kuroo said, finally taking Daichi’s chin between a thumb and forefinger, stilling that constant rocking and making him look into his eyes. Daichi was shocked to see they were red and shining, too. “It’s not stupid. It’s a good question. It has so many answers already, and we’re only just starting out."

Read it on AO3 >

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Bella Goth's (Actually Cozy!) Winterfest Celebrations - And a New Ring 💍

Bella Goth loved the holiday season. Even when she was unhappily married to Mortimer for years, she could always get into the Winterfest spirit. She'd always been fascinated by Father Clement, who could seemingly be everywhere at once every Winterfest Night. If families celebrated, he would come. You might even say the inexplicable magic of Father Clement was her gateway to a lifetime studying occults and paranormality.

Now, of course, she was dating the Grim Reaper himself, and to mark the season she prepared a plate of Hallacas - a traditional holiday dish passed down from her Selvadoradian grandmother, Enriqueta, at the request of her beloved sons.

Alexander was grown and had started a family of his own, and Dexter would graduate high school before she knew it (I don't think I've shown a picture of him since he was a toddler, so there he is in the green jacket, looking pretty much nothing like Mortimer). Bella cherished their excitement over the savoury dish - a mainstay at Goth family Winterfests year after year. They knew the best Hallacas in the world were the ones their mother made!

Once Alex and Lydia lit the menorah to introduce their son, Jagger, to another part of his heritage, most of the Goths went to bed. The cats, Spatula and Victory, stayed awake sniffing around the Hallacas, while Bella played and sang a tune on the piano.

She was in a good mood, waiting for her beloved Grim to return from his latest reaping. They didn't get to see one another enough, but they more than made up for time apart each time they came together. "My love," she said warmly. "I adore you. Come in from the cold."

Grim couldn't feel temperatures, exactly, but his entire being buzzed with a fire he hadn't felt for millennia whenever he spent time with Bella. But one thing in particular had always bothered him - her insistence upon wearing the oversized engagement ring from her ex-husband, Mortimer, as a fashion statement.

He'd grown tired of looking at it, quite frankly. "I have a gift for you," he said. She lifted the lid on the medium-sized box with excitement, gasping when she spotted the velvet ring box inside.

"You didn't!"

"I didn't. I asked @deardiaryts4 to design a custom ring just for you. A new fashion statement. I know how much you love her work, and I hope you like it. She did an incredible job, and considering how close it was to Winterfest when I asked her to design it, she pulled it together in no time."

The stunning bauble glistened under the lights of the Winterfest tree at their backs - a massive black diamond set on a white gold band dotted with dozens of smaller black diamonds. "It's incredible, Grimmie, I love it!"

The ring fit Bella like a glove, but they had to cut their cozy celebration short. "Sorry, duty calls," said Grim, before disappearing outside in a cloud of black smoke.

Bella went to bed satisfied though Grim couldn't stay by her side, and she awoke to the excited murmur of Winterfest morning streaming up the stairs.

Soon after breakfast, her daughter Cassandra arrived with her husband, River, and their sons.

Bella made spiced hot cocoa to greet their arrival - another common treat at Goth family holidays - and she pulled out a retro game console Cass and Alex used to play with when they were children, introducing her grandson Michael to the simple, colourful joy of earlier, more pixellated video games.

(I see you plumbob. I've been so good. But the event rewards task box was in the way!)

She even managed to wrangle all nine of them for a family portrait by the tree, and then the family put on some Winter Holiday music to dance off some of their festive energy.

clockwise from top: Dexter Goth, Alexander Goth, Jagger Goth, Lydia (Kim-Lewis) Goth, Cassandra (Goth) Nesbitt, Bella Goth holding Samuel Nesbitt, River Nesbitt, Michael Nesbitt

(Jagger also needed a diaper change, so dance party done.)

These moments with her family, surrounded by the love of her children and grandsons, meant everything to Bella.

But Grim, and the gorgeous ring she wore as a symbol of their love, meant something, too. As she grooved with her family by the fire and spent time with her beloved crow, Obsidian, this cozy celebration reminded Bella she was one of the luckiest women in the world.

Cozy Celebrations posts with Hazel & Nicola: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Nicola Enters Dating Deanna

NOTE: I didn't give this installment a part number because it's not technically canon but IS canon, if that makes sense. The ring is real and the portraits are going on the wall, but Michael, Samuel, and Jagger are all older than they were during in-game Winterfest (and aging them back down meant trying to pose infants through a couch and I honestly couldn't be bothered!) But I allude to the idea that the holidays come around every year, even though it's actually closer to every 15 years of actual game time. A sim year is 8 days, but the calendar year is 112 days because I like to fit in as many holidays as I can. So last year Cassandra, River, Michael, and Samuel were with the Nesbitts, but "this year" they rotated to the Goths, because I absolutely needed a family photo with them in it.

I know the Hazel/Nic play on Cozy Celebrations turned out to be the complete opposite, so this is like a palate cleanser, finishing the last two days of the event tasks with another side family in this legacy, instead. Not everyone's out here having a bad time!

WCIF Bella's ring? You can't, I'm sorry! This post came about because I got an exclusive and it's gorgeous, but @deardiaryts4-rb posted about the white diamond version here, and let this be my endorsement that it's stunning! If she puts either swatch up for public download I highly recommend this ring for any of your luxe sims! Thank you Zen!!

WCIF Portrait Poses? I used 9 of 19 poses from @somneasims Our Legacy posepack, and with the exception of River giving jazz hands where that would be behind another sim's back and a missing infant on Michael's lap, it's a perfect fit! And these are so minor, like it's absolutely acceptable to give jazz hands or look like you're fidgeting in a family photo. Also, Dexter should be carrying an infant, but River's hair disguises his empty hands. Thank you for sharing this, I love the results!

(And yes I considered adding Mortimer and Karl since he and Bella are on such good terms, but in the end I decided they went on a vacation because this shot is wonderful.)

And I've used the same acha-sims' Lovers 2 pose for Grimbella before, but it's so perfect and really puts the ring front and centre, which this post deserved!

[letthegoodtimesgull]

Task 001.⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ʟɪꜰᴛꜱ ɪᴛꜱ ᴍᴀꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴀꜱᴏɴʀʏ,   ᴀ ᴘɪʟʟᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪʀᴇ ʙʏ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴏꜰ ᴄʟᴏᴜᴅ ʙʏ ᴅᴀʏ.  ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴅɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴅᴇꜱ,   ᴜᴘʜᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ, ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴜɴʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ɪᴛꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇ, ᴀ ꜱᴘᴇᴇᴄʜʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀɪꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴜʙꜱɪᴅᴇꜱ

{  ​🇧​​🇦​​🇸​​🇮​​🇨​​🇸​  } ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

SIGNATURE DOOR

a door that belongs to nowhere yet feels right at home on the beach. half-painted and half-forgotten, the wooden arch door stands, a quiet contradiction of neglect and care. the top half is dressed in tired blue, as the paint peels in tired flakes, curling, holding and falling. whilst the bottom bears hesitant stroked of fresh light blue paint which halts about half way up with no hopes to be finished. between the cracks of the wood, scattered across are peeling stickers from random bars reminiscing of wild black out nights with mismatched graffiti scrawled all over. messy penmanship in sharpie with crude jokes from classics "call for a good time" to thick lines and scribbles scratching out hidden love notes and messages. the rusted hinges slowly corroded by time and salt. each holds on with a stubborn sort of charm yet their loose screws jut out dangerously, ready to scar and scrap those who come near. the knocker, a bronze fading anchor dangles dead centre. the fish tail handle that curves at touch , scaly and weatherworn that slightly invites the touch to those who are curious enough to try. to tide the door is a blur of memories mashed together. nothing is clean and proper, it's lived and used, a gateway that is something more. a mixture of growth and moving forward, words that are long forgotten. maybe snippets of his childhood home. then it really begs to question what part of the doors reflect his home.

SOUL SEVER

the swiss army knife tide carries is a compact and striking tool, its silvery-blue finish gleaming subtly under the light. the sides are engraved with a nautical pattern of coiled ropes, anchors, and gentle wave motifs, perfectly reflecting tide’s carefree and ocean-inspired personality. the blade, sharp and pointed, is sleek and practical, though it isn’t the tool’s most notable feature. a sturdy bottle opener flips out easily, often used by tide to pop open a cold one as he relaxes and takes life as it comes.

DESIRED EMOJI 🌊🕶️

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S WINGS LOOK LIKE?

lets keep this one simple. tide ain't the brightest spark and to know the exact spices and much about bird family. it's not something the he retained but letting out a low chuckle, click of the tongue and a whistle when his wings unfurled recognising his wings to be that of a gull. for reference they are like the Larus sapp, a little grey that mixes in the greying skies. more to be added!

WHAT SHAPE DOES THEIR BARDO USUALLY TAKE?

beach like vibes. a lighthouse. messy rooms. hammocks that fill the room. chilled blues and whites. a mini bar and actual bar that is darted around. deck chairs that are comfy to sit in. wooden shakes like beach hut. everything is always bright and sunny. to be edited....

WHAT ARE THEY LIKE AT THE DEPARTMENT OF AFTERLIFE AFFAIRS?

tide is the one who is constantly poking his nose into everyone else's business. maybe he wants to be part of the conversation, maybe he want to be the topic of conversations and very much will rather do anything than the damn paper work. he is the one that talks the loudest, talks the most and talks alot of bullshit. when you find him at his desk 9/10 he would be doing the equivalent of doom doom scrolling. his feet will be kicked up on his desk. sometimes he might be taking a nap. you'll find notes on his desk like "gone fishing", "meeting in progress" or something witty and charming that would give you a chuckle or two. he is also a moaner. one that will be complaining when is it home time. when things are too quiet he has got to make some noise or have some sort of games that are going on. like level of annoyance i would say he would be like a mixture of kelly and michael scott from the office, always needed to making noise or be engaged with something that is beyond him.

WHAT IS THEIR OPINION ON 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎?

"Sorry..who was that again?"

{  ｏｐｔｉｏｎａｌ  } ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

HOW DO THEY LOOK LIKE/DRESS LIKE IN THE AFTER?

messy effortless wavy hair that is always combed a little back. rarely ever tied up, if it is that means it's time for serious business. although his style is pretty much laid back with shirts and shorts or trousers if the right occassions call for it, his attire is anything but boring. taking slight inspiration for styles in the karate kid trilogy and romoe + juliet 1996, tide does wear bright colourful shirts and trousers with sunglasses that are match. [pinterest]

ANY NOTABLE RELATIONSHIPS WITH NPCS AT THE DEPARTMENT?

everybody loves to hate him. xoxo. TO BE EDITED.

ARE THERE ANY RUMORS OR GOSSIP ABOUT THEM?

🕶️ he will start arguments or fights if anything bad is said about starling. well okay let's not say fights, he has a little bit more charm too him but you will be on his prank list one way or another. he has some class too him. 🕶️ tide is a massive flirt. but not because he is looking to date or shizz, that is part of his cheeky charm that he thinks he will get out of trouble. 🕶️ is the headache and dumbass of the group but that is a badge of honor that he was wears proud. 🕶️ shit scared of people who not yell at him but use that cold tone with him. 🕶️ pathological need to be liked or spoken about. more to add...

[presidenthades]

Sorry I meant favorite characters but my phone changes words and I did not see it

Ah! I like this question too.

This will sound like a cop-out answer, but I really do love the six main characters (Targbros and Velargirls). I could probably write multiple essays about why I love them all, but I’ll try to be concise.

Aegon: He has a very snarky inner monologue that is fun to write, and he isn’t afraid to call people out. It reminds me of what I enjoyed about writing Daemon’s POV. The main difference is that Aegon has a lot more self-doubt. He can be very flippant and sometimes mean to other people, but he’s 10000% soft for Jace and I love the contrast.

Jace: I think of her as my response to the “not like other girls” trend among a lot of fantasy heroines. Jace is like other girls, but she can still be a strong, nuanced character. She embraces her femininity and tries to balance it with the need to appear like an ideal heir in a very sexist world. Jace would love the Barbie movie.

Aemond: He appears very cool and confident on the outside, and he tells himself he’s cool and confident, but if you dig deeper he has plenty of self-doubt and a need for validation. It’s a fun and tricky exercise as a writer to try to convey the multiple layers of his inner monologue. I also enjoy his “holier than thou” attitude when I know karma is coming back for him eventually 😂.

Luce: Her kid self is adorable and I feel so bad whenever I make bad things happen to her 😭. It’s a fun exercise to write her seeing things (like Rhaenyra and Daemon) but not understanding what it really means, because she’s sheltered or a little too young or deliberately ignoring what she doesn’t like. Her older self will be much more observant, and I think she’s going to have a snarky inner monologue like Aegon.

Daeron: Precious golden retriever puppy in human form! He isn’t in the show (yet?) and his book description sounds like a typical Prince Charming, which is…OK. But if you spice it up to “Prince Charming is in love with the dark witch” then it becomes 🔥🔥🔥. Of course he has a lot of growing up to do, but I’m keeping this core dynamic. Not all fantasy male love interests need to be dark and brooding (but I definitely love that trope 🖤).

Joff: Show!Joffrey hasn’t had any lines, and book!Joffrey’s defining traits are devotion to siblings, vengeful, and impetuous. Joff still shares those traits, but she’s more “the wizard behind the screen” instead of the warrior in the open. She’s snarky and can run mental circles around Daemon. She’s also my gateway to exploring more of the ASOIAF magic system. What’s not to love?

[pigeonwhumps]

Graveyard horrors

Everything taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

So I intended to write this for Halloween but I didn't finish it in time, but here it is! Ta-da? Enjoy.

Set in the same world as A Death in the Family.

A human flees into a graveyard and unearths something unexpected.

1.6k

CWs: Vampire, minor character deaths, amputation for non-medical purposes, cauterisation, mentioned human experimentation, emotional whump, planned vivisection, mentioned dismemberment, sadistic whumper, fear, discrimination

Whumpee limps across the road, staggering into the nearest gatepost and pulling themself around it. In the distance, getting closer by the second, is the sound of stalking footsteps.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are."

The moon is the smallest sliver in the sky by now, glinting off the edges of branches and clouds and... and gravestones. Old, crumbling gravestones.

Oh. Oh, of course this is where they've ended up. Where no-one can hear them scream.

Whumpee puts on a burst of speed, almost bringing them up to normal walking pace. Sharp sticks scratch and pebbles embed in the soles of their feet, but they keep going. They run through the churchyard, falling, skinning knees, biting back a scream as they hit their injured leg.

Through the open gateway, the rusted gate dangling off its hinges, creaking in the slight breeze. Off hallowed ground now.

The footsteps are getting closer, low, even. Stalking. Whumpee's breath catches.

"Don't be scared. We just want to play."

Whumpee spins around, backing away as two silhouettes appear in the entrance, tripping over graves as they go, not daring to look away. Unhallowed ground on All Hallow's Eve and the humans are still scarier.

They're always scarier.

A low, hollow, mocking laugh.

"Oh, they're not listening to us. Come on now. We're not going to hurt you."

"Not much, anyway."

Whumpee ignores their words, focusing on trying to scramble away. But their tormenters are getting closer, and Whumpee can't run.

Blood drips down their leg onto the soil. They back up. Stumble. Fall. Grasp the wooden stake. Pull themself up. Uproot the wooden stake. Fall again.

They can actually see the people now. Too close, getting closer.

Whumpee scrambles backwards and hits a wall they didn't remember was there.

Disorientated now, they can only struggle as their arms are grabbed and they're forced to their knees.

"Please. Please, I'm not a monster, my mam's not a monster, please let me go."

"Your mother's a freak. She shouldn't even exist, but the weird scientist and the lightning came and now we have to treat her as a person. You should be back in that grubby little orphanage."

"Why are you doing this?" sobs Whumpee, as Whumper A twists a zip-tie around their wrists and does... something, lifting them up in the air behind their back. They can't move when he lets them go. "I haven't done anything to you, please, just let me go, I won't tell anyone."

Whumper B pulls something long and jagged from a duffle bag. There's something dark and gleeful in her voice when she speaks.

"Don't worry. I don't care that you're a monster. I only care that no-one who actually matters will even notice you're gone. They won't search. That's what we need you for."

"Sadism?"

Whumper A hums. "Wouldn't put it quite like that. I want to see what the child of a monster is made of. Are you more mature or nurture? Sugar and spice and all things nice? Slugs and snails and puppy dogs' tails? Or something else altogether? She's just here for the fun though."

Whumper B shrugs, holding up the... the... oh, hells, that's a bone saw isn't it? Whumpee recognises it from anatomy classes. They whimper.

"What can I say? I enjoy a good dismemberment."

"Please, please you can't even see me here, there's no point, please don't, you can have all my medical records and everything, anything you want, just please don't– aaaaAAHHHHH!"

Their foot. Their foot is– it's– it's–

"There. That'll stop you running. Cauterise that and then we need to get gone. See, we're not stupid. We're not taking you apart in the dark. But this makes it easier. You're already injured, a foot will stop you escaping."

Whumpee screams again as Whumper B steps back to allow Whumper A forward with the heated tong. He presses it against their cut-up foot, a hand over their mouth. No gloating, just efficiency now, and Whumpee realises with sudden lightning-bolt clarity that there's no mercy coming. Ever.

Is it their imagination or is a shadow falling? Is it getting darker in front of them, behind their tormenters, a darkness falling over them? Is their vision going already?

No. No, because Whumper B has frozen, going deadly still. Behind Whumper A is something very tall. Human-shaped, possibly human but hopefully not, part of it is glinting in the moonlight. Two pointed, triangular parts...

Whumper A's head snaps sideways and there's a gurgle as the creature's fangs disappear into his neck. Not human, then.

Whumpee could try to free themself, pick up the stake, stab the vampire into dust. But then what? Their tormenters won't be grateful. They'll still die, and it'll be worse.

Whumper A drops limply to the ground. Whumper B screams.

Her screams are cut off abruptly as the fangs glint again and then dive in. She spasms in the vampire's arms.

Her neck is at an unnatural angle as her body falls limply to the ground.

Whumpee sits, frozen, as the vampire turns its (his? Xer? They don't know and they probably won't ever find out) full attention on them. It cocks its head to one side and strides up to them. They can't even find it within themself to shy away.

Is that the vampire's power or just their cowardice?

The vampire lunges and Whumpee braces themself but it simply shreds the zip-tie. Whumpee collapses to the ground in a heap.

"Thank you," they whisper hoarsely.

"You... summoned me back to life," the vampire says slowly and carefully, as if picking long-forgotten words with the utmost delicacy. "It was your blood, yes?"

"I mean. Probably?" They don't think anyone else has bled in this graveyard tonight.

"Then it is a life for a life, and all debts are settled."

Whumpee shakes their head. They're not. That's not a fair deal. But they don't say that. There's something more important, and they grasp onto it to drag them out of their spiralling shock, even as it makes them blush.

"Clothes."

The vampire looks down at itself in apparent surprise, then proceeds to the taller of the two bodies. It strips him carefully, methodically, pulling them onto itself with all the care of someone stepping into a new designer outfit. Everything except underwear and shoes is taken and added to its new look.

It's all too small, and Whumpee starts to giggle. Everything is suddenly hilarious. Why wouldn't it be? They're in a graveyard on Halloween with a vampire who's killed two people and is wearing one of their clothes, and with a chopped off foot that is too far gone to save. What's not to laugh about in this situation?

"You are in shock. Put this on."

Whumpee shrugs on the black turtleneck, trying not to think about the way it's sodden and crusting in turns.

"Thank you."

Neither of them says anything for a while, Whumpee sitting there, staring at nothing. Their foot. Their poor foot. They pick stones and grit out of the remaining one, trying not to think.

But then the ground shifts, and they realise the vampire is still there too. It's functionally new to the world, possibly, depending on how long it was dead for. Does it have anywhere to go? Maybe she can think about it instead.

"So um. What's your name?"

"Vampire."

"Do you have anywhere to go?"

"I was murdered. I do not think they would have left my house intact."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Vampire shrugs, and Whumpee speaks before they can think about the idea enough to take it back. "Would you... well, I have a spare bedroom. And you have nowhere to go. Absolutely no pressure of course, I didn't mean– forget it."

Vampire cocks its head and stares until Whumpee blushes again and looks away. Was that a bad idea?

"I will come."

The wave of relief that floods through Whumpee at that is strong and unexpected.

"Good. Good."

Vampire stares down at Whumpee.

Whumpee stares back.

Oh. Oh, right.

They should probably stand, huh?

Whumpee braces themself on the nearest gravestone and tries to use it to pull himself up. 'Tries' being the optimum word here, because the stone starts to crumble and Whumpee has no idea how to walk on one foot. They unbalance and their knees wobble, collapsing.

Ow. Fuck.

"You can lean on me."

Whumpee grasps Vampire's side and pulls themself up, staggering against it, allowing it to wrap a firm arm around them.

It could feel like a cage. It doesn't.

"Cheers."

Vampire bows its head in reply, and they start to make their way slowly out of the graveyard, Whumpee leading the route, like they're in some weird slow-motion three-legged race.

Whumpee's nerves are shot. It's only Vampire's strength keeping them up, and not just physically. They want to fall to the ground and stay there, for as long as it takes. Does anyone care? Actually care? What even are they? This might not be a border town any longer but they've spent so long among monsters, are they even human anymore? And does that even matter when people will treat them like something disgusting anyway?

They can think of a hundred, a thousand, rebuttals they'd have to a resident or visitor at Crossways thinking this way, but they don't have the heart to say them to themself.

A tear drops onto their bare foot.

Just one step at a time.

[sageserpent]

» a very warm Ōtikmihīyōwiltih your way, you've found your way to 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 . . . a place where secrets of Aztec healers come alive. We invite you to experience the powers of ancient Mesoamerican healing herbs while you're here. Immerse yourself in a fascinating culture, as you explore our carefully curated selection of botanical treasures – from sacred sage used in cleansing rituals all the way to the vibrant marigolds that adorned Aztec altars, we can assure you that you will find what you're looking for. If it's not herbs and spices you long for, feel free to reach out to our knowledgeable shopkeeper 𝐗𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐋 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐈 (she/they), who's happy to guide you on your healing journey while offering a gateway to long forgotten traditions. «

#𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓: a single muse, selective and independent original character crafted for fakevz. established in november of '23. low activity. german & english. 21+ (!) / promo credit

additional info: Xochitl Techtli, mostly just called 'Xo', is the twenty-six year old apothecary and shopowner of Sage and Serpents, an independent pharmacy located in Albuquerque, known for offering unusual healing methods that seem to work every single time. Rumor has it that people who need more than just the occational ointment leave the store changed, having to face the drastic decision of how much a healing is really worth to them. But those are just urban legends, right?

an exploration in preservation of indigenous knowledge, spirituality and belief systems, interactions with modern society, manipulation , sacrifices and having to find a balance between good and evil.

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 10.3

Lucy hesitated, taking it in.  It wasn’t a grand betrayal.  Toadswallow had his goals and whatever the nuances were, he hadn’t wanted to share them.

the fact that this isn't having an immediate impact is making me nervous it's part of a longer plan from Crooked Rook

The danger is exactly that. Pressure, inexorable, annoying, sapping away enough of your focus

taylorcore

The arrow for War, the forking branch for Nature, the hourglass arrangement of two triangles with points touching for Time, the angular C-shape for Fate, and the gateway, like a keyhole without a floor, for Death. There was another, and it sometimes replaced nature, sometimes overlapped with Fate, for Fortune, but that was a newer thing.

most of these are intuitive, but I'm curious about Fate and Death. Fate is the Threads and the woven object iirc, Death is the Pale and the skull. I'm guessing Fortune would have some kind of circle as a symbol to represent the coin?

she reached into her pocket, found her phone and coiled up earphones, and selected the first song that felt thematic, close to the top of her playlist. Au Rii – Dance Into Dark. A sultry, purring guy’s voice almost straining to push through a backdrop of throbbing, dark instrumentals and a back-backdrop of synths that were just biting enough that they could be hard to listen to.

You would think having these kinds of cues would make putting together a playlist for Pale easier. You would think!

She missed Verona.  The humor, the cleverness, the idea that no matter how bad it got, her friend could pull out an idea and salvage things.  Or partially salvage things.  Verona pushed things and kept them from never falling into a rut. She missed Avery. Avery, who could normally find her way to Lucy’s side even if she was nowhere nearby. Who was decent enough as a person that it felt like Lucy was better off for it.

🥹

When she’d been afraid that this would all mount up, and that everything would fall down in a way that put all the responsibility on her shoulders.  That she’d be essentially alone against a hostile world.

as she has felt everywhere outside her home for most of her life

The music throbbed, helping to center her and make her feel attuned to Death.  Death as something seductive to the guys, because Guilherme flirted with it to add spice to life and John kept on sacrificing his frigging self and Lucy was worried it would one day stick.  Death as dark and uncomfortable and intense as an idea.

queering the attracted-to-Death binary etc etc

Edith looked down at the beginnings of the diagram.  “Don’t.” “Any reason?” Lucy asked. “Because I said not to, Lucy."

don't pull the adult card on her

“An out of control ghoul getting at family members is something that could affect Matthew or me just as easily.  But you, as so many practitioners do, seem to treat binding diagrams and your ability to entrap us in a-” There were two more gunshots. “-cavalier way. It’s easy for you and life altering for us,” Edith finished.

maybe not the time!

“I have fire, she doesn’t like it.  Others have their own ideas.  I want you to trust us, Lucy.”

then stop planning on killing her!

She abandoned the rod, but kept the ring and hot lead ready.  She could spend a minute disarming this arrangement, but… instead she reached out to touch it, laying her hand flat against the side. The weapon ring transformed it into a weapon. A squat, rectangular shotgun. Ball bearings spilled out into the floor as she tipped it down to look at the handle.

clever way to disarm it

“You’re a clever girl, Lucy,” Guilherme said.  “You’ve learned many tricks when separated from your friends.  That’s a cleverness you need to embrace and capture.  You can do this.”

Fae teachers suck! Not the time!

She’d had other scares too.  Her fingers touched her arm where the Nettlewisp had been. You like it too much. Some small, subconscious part of herself had liked being prickly.  She’d liked that aesthetic, the twining vines, the spikes, the barbs.

the aesthetic slapped!

and once again Lucy is back to choosing whether or not to pick up the knife, between being the abrasive principled leader or the diplomat

Alexander had taught them about coup and claim.  She claimed this for herself.  She found the other connections to the other bells in this building and held them firm. Shadowy hands gripped the wire above and below the bell and held it fiercely taut. The bell jostled as smoke reached toward it from one direction, tugging, ready to pull away and jangle, but a reaching out of smoke from the opposite direction made it move back to center instead.

I am mentally pairing this scene with the one from earlier this arc of setting off the bells all at once for visuals for the Lucy song on my playlist

There were answering flashes without noise.  John.  Lucy had never meant for him to keep the silence rune on the gun.  She wondered for a moment if he’d want something more permanent-

awww

“Montague!” Matthew called out.  “Secure the remaining traps!  See if you can’t get the network!  Lucy, signal him!” There was a moment, brief, where it sure seemed like the Witch Hunter had looked at Lucy.

did the Witch Hunter have her name before? Because he seems like the kind of guy who's not averse to using mundane methods to track her down

Lucy had the feeling they’d let him pursue the ghouls, surrounded him from a very wide distance he couldn’t necessarily track, where bells and his influence were thinner, and treated the ghouls as a sacrifice or necessary risk to get the man under control.

the ghouls who are allied with Crooked Rook, not with Edith

Three things happened in the same moment, and there was nothing Lucy could do about it.  Chloe was fast, and Guilherme had taught Lucy about being fast, fighting against fast.  He knew well enough what to do. But Edith was ready, too. Fire erupted between Chloe and everyone else.

I wonder if Edith didn't want Lucy putting up barriers because using fire to contain Chloe instead would give Edith a chance to weaken or kill Chloe with plausible deniability?

She turned her attention to Edith instead. Another burst of flame and the emergence of the Girl by Candlelight made her change her mind. Lucy’s eyes widened as she realized who the most apparent target was.

Or that! Keeping Chloe feral and attacking lets Edith weaken Others (with her own allies not in range?), gives her a chance to get at Lucy, and maybe even deliberately keeps the Witch Hunter in play to whittle down those Others not allied with her

Lucy found the catch that served as the trigger for the little trap, then changed her mind.  She aimed down, twisting her lower body away, and pressed the muzzle against Chloe’s thigh.

kudos to Lucy for trying for non-lethal damage in a situation this dangerous

Her eyes adjusted to the light of the moonlight outside, magnified by the mask she wore, and she saw the chalk. Marred. Smudged out. Chloe leaped past it, catching Lucy. How much of this was intentional?

fuckfuckfuckfuck.

At this point Edith's only barely maintaining plausible deniability, she doesn't care anymore that Lucy knows to not trust her

The fact that the people who had gotten hurt were not their prime suspects.  John, the goblin riff-raff, Guilherme…

people who weren't warned... I guess this is a good sign for trusting Guilherme?

Melissa stopped running, skin tearing away in folds that reached around.  She lifted up off the ground, slender, tall, dark-haired Maricica, looking down at the encircled Witch Hunter. Lucy looked away, hand cupped so she couldn’t see the man. It was clear what would happen.

welp, guess that's dealt with

The sound of it all was too much.  Lucy turned away, walking, without looking at the aftermath. No, there was more aftermath to be had. This wasn’t the sort of thing that settled this easily. The Witch Hunter had friends, he had an employer, and…

GUESS THAT'S DEALT WITH

[squids-and-jellyfish]

The Phantom Thief

part 3

Chapter 2 the Luau

The Luau

   “Ugh I don't know what to wear” she grumbled to herself. How formal was this luau supposed to be? And is it in theme, would everyone be dressed in grassed skirts and Leis around their neck. She kept digging through her unpacked suitcase, clothes strewn across the floor. Finally deciding on a pink tank top and green shorts with a floral trim. Claire grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulders. Packed the night before with some spices, a juice melon and a few hot peppers. She wanted to be sure she didn't forget anything today. The mayor's words echoed in her mind, everything must be perfect. 

     He had only said to bring ingredients. Surely he meant just that and not an actual dish. She checked the watch on her wrist, 9:45. Shit. No time left to stress about it now. The invitation left at her door this morning said it started promptly at 10. If she left right this instant she could get there on time. Barely. She locked the door behind her before leaving the farm. 

     It took 5 minutes just to get to the town. A relatively small village. It consisted of all the essentials though.  A school, a church, a general store and even an inn. A large sign hung in an old wooden archway, “Misty Cove” symbolized she was officially there. Passing through the gateway she thought to herself, it was aptly named. Each morning the whole village was encased in a misty fog shortly after the sun began to rise. 

   She hurriedly walked passed home after home until she found herself in the village square. Most festivals and events were held there. Any given day it was always busy with chatter and laughter. Bustling with life. Housewives gossiping over a cup of tea sitting at benches. The florist had her daily booth, selling bouquets and seeds. Filling the area with the sweet aroma of various blooms. On nice days the psychic would set up outside beside her. And the bakers coffee and bread would mix with the flowers, outside his shop would smell like home. Edna, who liked to go by Granny, usually was around tending the gardens that encircle the town center while keeping an eye on the children. 

    Today however, it felt like a ghost town. Not a soul in soul sight. Leaving her walk eerily quiet. Without all the fresh scents swirling around, the air smelled almost stale and dusty like an attic. An uneasy feeling sent chills down her spine. Causing her to quicken her pace even more. The small graveyard came into sight.  A large oak sat in the middle surrounded by headstones in various states of crumbling.  The weirdest part was the grass never seemed to grow. Perpetually dead, crispy and brown. You would think if anything the decaying matter acted as a fertilizer.  Encouraging lush green growth. 

    Just a little further she thought. I'm almost there. Music filled her ears as she grew closer to the path for the beach. She relaxed, releasing the breath she had been holding for much longer than she realized.  Relief washed over her as she entered the beach. 

   “You made it!” A loud excited voice boomed. “We were all getting worried you slacked off or forgot about us” the overly cheerful Thomas chuckled. “I was about to deploy a search party for you”. Claire checked her watch again, 10:01. She was a whole one minute late and he was acting like it had been hours. 

   “Now tell me Claire, did you remember the goods?” he asked, winking with the eye behind his monocle. “The …goods?” she started to ask in response but was abruptly cut off. “YES Claire,” Mayor Thomas interjected with a condescending tone raising his eyebrows. “You're best most valuable gold star produce from your farm. Use that beautiful head of yours to think. Silly little peach.” That made her stomach turn. 

    Nudging the man standing next to him, “What did I tell you, she's not very bright is she. Now be a dear will you and go add what you've brought to stew. Can you handle that or do you need one of the men to do it for you?” “I can do it myself” she glared at him before turning to the large pot. 

[kushami-hime]

Ok so I kind of had an idea for a prompt or at least a scene.

It's based off of Inuyasha. When he makes Kagome that liver medicine/potion when she was sick. Well I was thinking kind of the same thing with Bakugou and listener.

Let's say Bakugou is sick and sneezing his brains out, having an absolute miserable time, so listener decides to make him the same medication like Inuyasha did for Kagome or something similar but the scene pretty much plays out like how it was in the episode.

Except he has a more, intense negative response to the medicine (grumpy angy Boi hours over how gross it is), he doesn't get better as fast like Kagome did, aaaand the medicine somehow may make him have a sneeze reaction too but that's up to you as well to imply.

Nonny you had me at I/nuYasha (my beloved gateway anime aaaaah)

this sounds really cute, a lot of potential for fluff as well, maybe there's just a really strong smell from the medicine that sets him off, maybe when he's sick spices get to him more than they would when he's a healthy grumpy boi? :o

[gobboguy]

Welcome to the quaint Fantasy City of Southam, nestled amidst the sprawling forests and rolling hills of the countryside. Though now little more than a large hunting village, Southam was once a thriving settlement that fell into ruin decades ago due to a devastating earthquake. Despite its diminished stature, Southam retains a unique charm and a rich history that echoes through its cobblestone streets and timeworn buildings.

History:

Southam's origins can be traced back to ancient times when it served as a bustling trading post and agricultural center. However, a catastrophic earthquake ravaged the city, leaving much of it in ruins. Over time, Southam was rebuilt as a humble hunting village, its former grandeur a distant memory.

Arts:

Despite its modest size, Southam boasts a vibrant artistic community, with local artisans crafting intricate wood carvings, tapestries, and pottery inspired by the natural beauty of the surrounding landscape. The city's residents also take pride in their traditional folk music and dances, keeping ancient customs alive through spirited performances.

Famous People:

Among Southam's notable figures is Alaric Greenleaf, a renowned hunter and tracker revered for his unparalleled skills in navigating the dense forests that surround the village. Another beloved resident is Elara Songbird, a gifted singer whose melodic voice captivates audiences at the local tavern.

Castle:

At the heart of Southam stands the sturdy Stonekeep Castle, a relic of the city's former glory. Though weathered by time and neglect, the castle's imposing walls and towering towers still stand as a symbol of resilience. Stonekeep Castle serves as a gathering place for the village council and a refuge during times of need.

Food:

The cuisine of Southam is hearty and rustic, reflecting the village's reliance on the bounties of the forest. Game meats such as venison, rabbit, and wild boar are staples of the local diet, often seasoned with aromatic herbs and spices for a burst of flavor. Foraged mushrooms, berries, and nuts complement these savory dishes, providing a taste of the wilderness.

Major Events:

Southam's annual Harvest Festival is a highlight of the village calendar, celebrating the bounty of the land and the community's resilience in the face of adversity. The festival features feasting, music, and traditional games, drawing visitors from neighboring villages to join in the festivities.

Major Exports and Imports:

Southam exports prized furs, cured meats, and handcrafted goods to nearby towns and cities, trading them for essential supplies such as grains, textiles, and tools. The village also serves as a gateway to the wilderness, offering guided hunting expeditions and outdoor adventures to travelers seeking to explore the untamed wilderness.

Beautiful Sights:

A particular structure that catches the eye in Southam is the Whispering Grove, a tranquil clearing nestled within the forest on the outskirts of the village. Here, ancient stone pillars stand sentinel among towering trees, their weathered surfaces adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes from Southam's storied past. Legend has it that the Whispering Grove holds mystical powers, granting wisdom and guidance to those who seek solace within its hallowed grounds.

Leader of Southam - Lady Elara Southam:

Lady Elara Southam, a descendant of the village's founding family, inherited leadership of Southam following the untimely death of her father. Raised amidst the rugged beauty of the wilderness, Elara possesses a deep connection to the land and its people. Known for her compassion, wisdom, and unwavering determination, Lady Elara has earned the respect and admiration of the villagers through her tireless efforts to rebuild and revitalize Southam in the wake of the earthquake. Her leadership is characterized by a commitment to preserving Southam's traditions while embracing new opportunities for growth and prosperity.

Welcome to the transformed city of Muggalgrur, once the peaceful Southam, now reshaped into an Orcish stronghold following the invasion five years ago. The vibrant tapestry of Southam's cultural heritage and natural beauty has been replaced by the harsh stamp of Orcish dominance.

City Transformation:

Muggalgrur is little more than a shadow of its former self, now an Orcish inverse of the once-thriving Southam. The elegant architecture and quaint charm have been replaced with crude, imposing structures adorned with Orcish symbols and banners. The streets that once bustled with life are now eerily quiet, save for the occasional grunt or snarl of passing Orc patrols.

Orcish Rule:

Under the iron fist of Warchief Bloodlick, Muggalgrur is governed with ruthless efficiency. The city has become a hub of Orcish activity, with thralls toiling under the watchful eyes of their Orcish overlords. Former citizens of Southam have been reduced to servitude, forced into labor and subjected to the harsh rule of their new masters.

Hunting Lodge:

Castle Stonekeep, once a symbol of Southam's resilience, has been torn down and replaced with an opulent Orcish hunting lodge. The lodge serves as Warchief Bloodlick's residence, boasting lavish furnishings and adorned with trophies of Orcish conquests. From its imposing halls, Bloodlick oversees the city's operations with a keen eye and an iron will.

Leader of Muggalgrur - Warchief Bloodlick:

Warchief Bloodlick, a short but powerful Orc known for his mastery of horseback riding, rules Muggalgrur with an iron fist. He earned his title through bloodshed and cunning, rising through the ranks of the Orcish horde to claim leadership of the city. Bloodlick's leadership is characterized by brutality and ruthlessness, with dissenters swiftly dealt with and obedience demanded without question.

Alaric Greenleaf and Elara Songbird:

Alaric Greenleaf, once a revered hunter of Southam, met his demise defending the city against the Orcish invaders. His corpse now hangs from a cage at the city entrance, a grim reminder of the price of resistance. Elara Songbird, once a beloved singer, has been reduced to a thrall in service to Warchief Bloodlick. Forced to sing every night as the Orcs dine in their opulent lodge, her melodic voice now serves as a haunting echo of Muggalgrur's tragic transformation.

Exports and Imports:

Muggalgrur exports weapons, armor, and enslaved thralls to neighboring Orcish strongholds, fueling the war machine of the Orcish horde. The city imports rare materials, precious gems, and luxury goods to satisfy the extravagant tastes of its ruling class.

Orcish Sights:

A particular sight in Muggalgrur is the Sacrificial Altar of MOG, located within the once-tranquil Whispering Grove. Here, Orc Priestesses perform gruesome rituals during the Harvest Festival, sacrificing a Snaga virgin to appease the bloodthirsty deity. The grove, once a place of serenity and reflection, now echoes with the chilling chants of Orcish worshipers and the cries of sacrificial victims.

Harvest Festival:

The Harvest Festival has been transformed into a celebration of Orcish farming, where thralls are forced to dig up Orcroot bulbs, Thistlepods, Sweetleaf, and Zaza, Orc crops that are only palatable to their Orcish masters. The festival is a grim reminder of the thralls' servitude and the Orcs' complete domination over the land and its resources.

Muggalgrur stands as a stark reminder of the brutality of Orcish conquest, its once-proud heritage twisted into a grotesque mockery of its former self. Under the oppressive rule of Warchief Bloodlick, the city's inhabitants suffer in silence, their spirits broken and their hopes for freedom extinguished in the shadow of Orcish tyranny.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Gerald Early

Published: Jul 19, 2023

In the spring of 2020, I taught a class at Washington University in St. Louis entitled “Black Conservatives and Their Discontent: African Americans and Conservatism in America.” Eight students enrolled in the course, all of them Black. Among the readings were portions of Shelby Steele’s The Content of Our Character: A New Vision of Race in America. On one particular day, we were concentrating on Steele’s objections to affirmative action. Steele made the standard anti-affirmative-action arguments: It stigmatizes Black people as inferior and fills them with self-doubt in a mostly white setting; it makes them trade on their past of victimization; it does not improve life for most Black people. When I asked my students what they thought of these views, they did not say much at first, probably waiting to see someone else commit. Finally, one of the more activist-minded among them said that he agreed with everything that Steele said about affirmative action, which he thought shamed Black people. But, he added, with strong emotion, “I hate Steele for saying it.”

There is an adage in football, this student explained: Take what your opponents give you, even if it is not exactly what you want. The ice broken and the tone for discussion set, the rest of the class agreed. Everyone disliked affirmative action and Shelby Steele in equal measure. It was a strange revelation, for all of us in that room knew that affirmative action had made this moment possible, both for me, as a Black professor at a prominently white university, and for them, as Black undergraduates at that same institution. At that moment, it was if the same realization struck us all: What does it mean that affirmative action brought us all here to criticize affirmative action? Why are we here? Therein lies a complex story of Black people’s feelings about affirmative action as both a gateway and a burden.

“For all its imperfections,” the sociologist Orlando Patterson wrote in his 1997 book The Ordeal of Integration, “affirmative action has made a major difference in the lives of women and minorities. … In utilitarian terms it is hard to find a program that has brought so much gain to so many at so little cost. It has been the single most important factor accounting for the rise of a significant Afro-American middle class.” It was the notion that I could more easily become a middle-class professional in the white world that led me to attend the University of Pennsylvania as an undergraduate in 1970, at the beginning of the era of affirmative action in college admissions. My family thought going to Penn was a great opportunity. My sisters had attended Temple University, the working-class college, but Penn was Ivy League, a high-status school. It could open more doors for a kid of my background, so everyone thought. Perhaps it did. I cannot say for sure.

There were a few things all of us Black kids who came to Penn in that year knew. We were the aggrieved and underprivileged being given access to education’s La La Land. We were expected to be a bit churlish — diversity must have its spice of difference and social adjustment — but also dazzled by the riches. We were Dorothy in Oz with a chip on our shoulders. Second, we knew we all felt varying degrees of severe inadequacy. Huddling together sometimes eased the dislocation, but it sometimes made it worse, reinforcing the sense of being a grunt lost in the gun smoke of a war. Finally, we all knew that this largess was not going to last. There was an expiration date to affirmative action. Everyone said so: jurists, civil-rights leaders, politicians, and folks on the street. “You better get it while you can,” I remember one Black co-ed telling me, “The white folks won’t keep the gates open forever. Once it’s closed, they’ll say, ‘we gave you your chance.’ White folks’ bouts of doing right by the Negro don’t usually last long.” Realizing this made everything seem urgent to me. I felt a bit like Jesus’ disciples immediately after he died: The end could come any day now.

Black Americans have had ambivalent feelings about affirmative action since its inception in the 1960s. Though the extent and implications of the policy have changed radically over time, it has never benefited more than a small minority of Black people. Yet its symbolic importance has been enormous, especially in how it has affected the culture of higher education. Once a few Black students were admitted to elite and prominently white universities, they began to exert pressure from within to admit more Black students and hire more Black faculty. This was the fight against tokenism. The two populations of Black students and Black faculty were intertwined as a political force; together, they helped to change higher education in the United States. (The other major American institution as deeply affected by affirmative action has been the military.) What made affirmative action important for so many Black people, despite the fact that comparatively few directly benefited from this rather boutique social policy, was that it changed the way we thought about where Black people could be or where they belonged. If it was not quite the broad-based intervention Black Americans needed, they were still happy to take what they made their opponents give them.

But if affirmative action was viewed as a civil-rights victory by many Black people it never directly benefited, it often became a source of embarrassment for some it did. In college admissions, affirmative action effectively protected Black students from competing against non-Black students. Black people felt stigmatized by affirmative action because it came to mean that you had lesser qualifications — that you were admitted to a college or appointed to a job merely because of your race. In academe, a whole phalanx of jobs — including appointments in African American studies, in diversity, equity, and inclusion offices, and the like — became “race” jobs, jobs that existed in part in order to diversify the campus. Many Black people do not hold these jobs in as high a regard as, say, being the dean of an engineering or medical school. (For instance, my mother, who never understood the nature of my job but was exceedingly proud of whatever it was, would never introduce me as a professor of African American studies but rather as a professor of English.) Many Black parents do not wish their children to major in or even take courses in African American studies, as they don’t think of it as a practical or prestigious field of study. But the phenomenon of “race herding” on college campuses — students and faculty of color clustering in disciplines directly related to race — is partly misunderstood: Colleges, by their administrative nature, tend to encourage cliques, silos, and fiefdoms as vectors of power. Black people, in part, are just conforming to the academic environment, by using the element that got us in the door: our race.

This institutional development over the past 50 years has made some Black people feel uneasy about, if not ashamed of, affirmative action, and led many Black elites on both the right and the left to deny that they ever benefited from it. How can one feel pride in winning something that perversely acknowledges, or even rewards, your historically induced inadequacies? Affirmative action seems to say not just that racism persists, but that there is — still — something lacking in Black life.

While the liberal-leaning Black majority has always had mixed feelings about affirmative action, Black conservatives have been virtually unanimous in opposing it. Indeed, they have had to, if they wanted to be taken seriously by their White conservative allies. As Justice Clarence Thomas of the U.S. Supreme Court, the most prominent Black conservative in the country, wrote in his 1991 essay, “No Room at the Inn: The Loneliness of the Black Conservative”: “For blacks the litmus test” for conservatism “was fairly clear. You must be against affirmative action and against welfare.” This point is reiterated more recently in the sociologist Corey D. Fields’s Black Elephants in the Room: The Unexpected Politics of African American Republicans, which states that many Black Republicans “thought affirmative action served as a test to gauge their relative commitments to the GOP and to their fellow African Americans, particularly since the issue could easily be framed as putting race and partisanship in direct opposition.” Because Black conservatives were looked upon with suspicion by their white counterparts, suspected of prioritizing racial self-interest above ideology, they had to constantly prove themselves. This pressure was intensified by the fact that Black conservatives had little leverage among conservatives, as so few Black people voted for Republicans. Black conservatives did not bring any sort of sizable constituency with them. Of course, to have Black conservatives espouse policies that white conservatives also supported protected them, or seemed to, from the charge of racism, since conservatism and racism in the United States have long been intertwined.

For Thomas, opposition to affirmative action is a not merely a test of conservative allegiance but a principle to be defended against the wrong-headedness of Black liberalism. His 57-page concurrence to the majority decision in Students for Fair Admissions Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College is a full-throated denunciation of affirmative action as a shameful and cynical form of institutionalized special pleading on behalf of Black people. He advances, once again, the paradoxical position that Black Americans can best press their claims as a special interest group by behaving as if we had no racial grievances and accepting the basic aspirational fairness of a colorblind society.

Thomas argues that “the Constitution continues to embody a simple truth: Two discriminatory wrongs cannot make a right.” The U.S. Constitution does not allow punitive racial discrimination, but it also does not permit, as the dissenters argue, any sort of compensatory racial discrimination as amelioration for past discrimination. It does not permit racial discrimination — period. He proceeds “to offer an originalist defense of the colorblind Constitution.” Part of this defense is countering the “‘antisubordination’ view of the 14th Amendment: that the amendment forbids only laws that hurt, but not help blacks.” There are two overall points that Thomas makes. The first is the legal one about the constitutionality of racial discrimination. The second is social and practical, regarding whether discriminating in favor of a racial group really winds up helping that group. The dissenters argue that affirmative action is “‘good’ for black students.” “Though I do not doubt the sincerity of my dissenting colleagues’ beliefs,” Thomas responds, “experts and elites have been wrong before — and they may prove to be wrong again.” Thomas is expressing doubt about the insistence of Black liberals that Black Americans can only achieve their full citizenship claims through racially specific emoluments. He thinks that belief is not only specious but has damaged Black people, by effectively making them more racially self-conscious.

In portions of his concurrence, Thomas offers a mildly chauvinistic version of Black history that, on the whole, shows us as a striving, hard-working folk who had intact families, full employment, and excellent schools, like the legendary Paul Laurence Dunbar High School, in Washington D.C. We Blacks went along on our self-reliant, religiously conservative, social valiant way until something called social-welfare programs in the 1960s came along, and Black progress came to a crashing halt: a virtuous, dignified people made into dysfunctional dependents overnight. (This declension story is much indebted to the economist Thomas Sowell, an intellectual who has had an enormous impact on Thomas; he refers to five different works by Sowell in his concurrence.)

Such jeremiads against the welfare state are the way Black conservatives display race pride: by telling the race to be true to itself and abhor the aberrations of liberalism and leftism. For the Black conservative, Black people being liberal or leftist is essentially inauthentic. After all, we are reminded by white Republicans and conservatives, as well Black conservatives themselves, how brave Black Republicans are for taking the positions that they do in the face of admittedly bitter and sometimes unfair or opportunistic attacks from Blacks who are, to use the conservatives’ language, still on the liberal plantation. These attacks are proof of the Black conservative’s sincerity. Black Americans were noble once, coming out of the hellfire of slavery, and they can be noble again, by following the conservative platitudes of responsibility, rectitude, and respectability.

Thomas details the principal points of the Black conservative’s opposition to affirmative action: It violates the colorblind intentions of the constitution, particularly the 14th Amendment; it stigmatizes Black people as inferior and in need of help; highly selective colleges that accept Black students who do not meet their admissions standards only hurt and demoralize these students; affirmative action helps only a small number of bourgeois-aspiring Black people. Nothing new in any of that.

Thomas’s concurrence is especially strident in its criticism of the dissents of his fellow Supreme Court judges, the liberal justices Ketanji Brown Jackson and Sonia Sotomayor. At one point, Thomas characterizes Jackson’s linkage of slavery and white inherited wealth as locking Black people into a “seemingly perpetual inferior caste” as “irrational,” “an insult to individual achievement and cancerous to young minds seeking to push through barriers, rather than consign themselves to permanent victimhood.”

Finally, Thomas emphasizes in his concurrence his intense dislike of racial categories, which he thinks “are little more than stereotypes, suggesting that immutable characteristics somehow conclusively determine a person’s ideology, beliefs, and abilities.” Orlando Patterson strikes a different chord: “The simple truth, the simple reality, is that ‘racial’ categorization is a fact of American life, one that we can do away with only by first acknowledging it.” Patterson’s view, like those of many other supporters of affirmative action, is that the virus that made you ill can be made into the vaccine that cures you. But if racism is evil, Black conservatives like Thomas would argue, how can the fruits of racism be good? To think as Patterson and other Black liberals do validates the logic of racism as something that can be manipulated but never transcended.

For Thomas, the ongoing insistence on racial categorization is the inevitable result of protest politics, which revels in the charisma of the category as identity. What Black conservatives fear is that Black Americans overvalue the power and the repetition of protest, which intensifies our experience as an immutable social category, which is why Black conservatives complain so passionately about Black people clinging to victimhood. This is the category-binding that denies Black people transcendence, any hope of escaping race consciousness, or of having a full-fledged, authentic life, as the Black conservative sees it. To glorify protest, Thomas and other Black conservatives argue, is simply to reduce Black people to anger and reaction.

There has been much mourning for affirmative action among liberals of all races in the past couple of weeks. But a recent Economist/YouGov survey found that 44 percent of Black people supported the court’s decision to end affirmative action, while only 36 percent oppose it. Perhaps affirmative action has been more of a burden on us than we have been willing to admit, and Thomas’s triumph may speak for more Black Americans than we realize. Will the strange hope in colorblindness in a country crazed by color save us from the tyranny of our categorization? It is actually touching that some Black folk think it can.

[ Via: https://archive.is/Vj1Jx ]

[foodpeace]

Can a Meal Truly Transform You? The Link Between Food, Mind, Peace, and Soul

Have you ever experienced a moment when a single bite of food seemed to transport you to another world? A place of peace, where the noise of life faded, and all that mattered was the harmony between your body, mind, and soul? It’s a feeling so profound that it almost feels like magic. But is there truly a mysterious connection between the food we eat and our mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being? Can a meal be more than just sustenance—can it be a transformative experience?

For centuries, many cultures have believed in the power of food not just to nourish the body, but also to heal the mind and soul. Whether it's the comforting warmth of a home-cooked meal or the vibrant, rich flavors of a perfectly seasoned dish, food has the power to evoke emotions, memories, and even a sense of tranquility. But how exactly does this happen? Why does a certain meal feel so comforting, while others leave us feeling anxious or disconnected?

The Hidden Energy in Every Bite

The concept of food being a source of energy is not new. In many traditional practices like Ayurveda, food is considered to be much more than nutrients—it is seen as a source of life energy, or prana, that affects our physical, mental, and spiritual health. The idea is simple: what we consume has the ability to impact how we feel and think.

Imagine sitting down to a bowl of freshly prepared spicy noodles. The heat from the spices might stir something deep within you, making you feel alive, energized, and more aware of the present moment. But the effects don’t stop there. The rich flavors and balanced textures might bring about a sense of calm, a moment of peace where everything else fades away, and you are fully immersed in the experience of eating. The soul, it seems, craves more than just nourishment—it craves connection and mindfulness.

The Mind’s Role in Food

How we approach food plays a key role in its impact on our mental and emotional state. Have you ever noticed how your mood affects your appetite? When stressed, we may crave comfort food that offers temporary relief. But when we approach food with mindfulness and intention, it can lead to a sense of peace that lingers long after the meal is over. The practice of mindful eating—paying full attention to the flavors, textures, and sensations as you eat—can help cultivate a deeper connection to the food, enhancing its ability to nourish not just the body, but the mind and soul as well.

The Soul’s Deepest Cravings

It’s as if our soul recognizes the potential for deeper fulfillment that comes from food made with care, love, and attention. When we eat mindfully and choose foods that resonate with us on a deeper level, we are not just feeding our bodies—we are nourishing our spirits. Just as a beautifully crafted dish can elevate a meal into an experience, food that’s prepared with love and intention can uplift the soul.

So, we must ask ourselves: What if the secret to true peace lies in the food we choose to consume and the way we consume it? What if every meal is an opportunity to connect more deeply with ourselves, to find moments of stillness, and to restore balance to our lives?

The Answer May Be on Your Plate

Maybe it’s time to experiment with the idea that food is not just about filling our stomachs. Instead, it could be the gateway to a deeper understanding of ourselves. As you take your next bite, consider this: Could this meal be the key to unlocking greater peace and harmony within your mind and soul?

If you’re ready to begin your journey of mindful eating, let us guide you with dishes that don’t just nourish the body but also soothe the soul. Explore the world of flavors at Miega Coan Menu and discover how every bite can become a moment of transformation.

[munchlatreats]

One Fine Day at a Petit Café

Things had been busy, deadlines were chasing me through the labyrinth of my life cycle and I was in need of some sort of comfort. I had no idea where to find just a tad bit of relaxation, I definitely did not want to stay at home. I was feeling stressed in my abode, the last thing I wanted was more pressure.

Desperate for an escape, I went online and searched for places where I could do some work. Cafés seemed cozy enough to fulfill my desire of gaining a drop of energy to continue on with my never-ending assignments. Surfing through the internet for the perfect café took a long time, it was difficult. I scrolled endlessly, wondering why not one café intrigued me, perhaps I was being too picky.

Then, it popped up. A café that peaked my interest. Alizi Coffee + Eatery. I observed the pictures and images available on the Google page, the location wasn’t that far from where I lived.

Nice.

Looking at online pictures of the place, I noticed that the café was not that spacious, which was what I had hoped for. A small and compressed area was ideal for maintaining my focus and attention to do my work in an effective and efficient way. 

So, I got ready from my home and went there by foot. I found the place, it was easily recognizable as it had glass doors showcasing the interior. I walked into the café, the vibe was homey, to my pleasant surprise. The atmosphere of the room had an air of gracefulness. It was clear that everyone there was feeling a sense of comfort and coziness.

There were snacks, such as loaded fries, chicken fingers, roti bakar, and many other options. The snacks ranged from 15-30k rupiahs.

For the main course, they had Indonesian food like nasi sop iga, mie tek-tek, nasi ayam bakar wangi, and other choices. However, it did not stop there. They also had Western food such as fish & chips, club sandwich, beef stroganoff, and other options. They even had Oriental main courses, they had nasi ayam kung pao, tom yum, bakmi goreng hongkong, and many more. They all ranged between 15-45k rupiahs.

As for drinks, they did not forget to diversify the beverage menu as the customers could order teh tarik, strawberry juice, hot chocolate, and mocktails for the price range of 8-30k rupiahs.

Personally I was looking for something light to accompany my time in the petit coffee + eatery, so I ordered the chicken popcorn for 25k rupiahs and a mocktail drink called the blue lagoon—made with butterfly pea flower—that cost 25.5k rupiahs. As a result, the total I spent for a mid-afternoon meal was 50.5k rupiahs. Was it worth it? My verdict is: yes, yes it definitely was.

The chicken popcorn smelled delicious. Its juicy crunch was paired with a good kick of pepper that danced happily on my taste buds. I definitely was not disappointed. I grabbed the drink to ease off the spice that was not going away, it was pretty strong. The blue lagoon drink had this sweet tangy floral-type flavor that was not too overpowering, making me enjoy the drink very much. The flavor was like something I had never experienced before, but I was not complaining about it.

After finishing my meal and drink, I finally felt motivated to do my assignments whilst enjoying the ambience of the café. Turns out, food and beverages are a very sufficient gateway towards productivity. Overall, it was a blissful experience, 10/10. The food and drinks exceeded my expectations. The atmosphere gave a resounding peacefulness for every customer looking to find some downtime. I highly recommend this place for when you want to deafen the distracting noises in your day-to-day life and have some time for yourself by going to a spot with a guarantee in quality. It’s a perfect little place for when you want to be alone, or for when you want to hang out with friends and family. Either way, you will feel relaxed. If anybody is lured by my strong praise of this place, the exact location is at Ruko Tomang Tol Raya, Blk. A1 Jl. Kedoya Pesing No.14, Kedoya Sel., Daerah Khusus Ibukota Jakarta 11520. Enjoy your time there, because I absolutely did.

Written by Admin Karen

Admin Karen is a uni student who’s always looking to go out and eat with her parents so she doesn’t have to pay for her own meals. Her family says that she’s a picky eater, but she would beg to differ—stating that she just has good taste and knows what’s good food. Her favorite food is sushi and a trip to Sushiro resto would be similar to entering the gates of heaven she claims.

[malabarbeachresort]

Muzhappilangad Drive-in Beach: A Unique Experience Near Malabar Beach Resort

Imagine a stretch of golden sand that isn’t just for walking but also for driving—Muzhappilangad Drive-in Beach is exactly that and so much more. Located just a short drive from Malabar Beach Resort, this stunning destination offers a rare opportunity to cruise along the shoreline while soaking in the coastal breeze. It’s the kind of place where the ocean meets adventure, and every turn of your car's wheel feels like a journey into something extraordinary.

This four-kilometer-long beach is one of the few drive-in beaches in Asia and a true gem in tourist attractions in Kannur. The firm sands provide a smooth path for vehicles, allowing families, friends, and even solo travelers to experience the thrill of driving by the waves. Beyond the unique experience of beach driving, the place brims with opportunities for exploration. From enjoying the breathtaking views of the Arabian Sea to stopping for selfies with the sparkling waters as your backdrop, the beach has something for everyone.

If you’re visiting Kannur, staying at the best beach resort in Kannur, Kerala, like Malabar Beach Resort, makes it convenient to include Muzhappilangad in your itinerary. The resort is not only a hub of relaxation but also a gateway to unique experiences like this beach. Spend your mornings indulging in the serene atmosphere of the resort and your afternoons chasing adventure at the drive-in beach—sounds like the perfect balance, doesn’t it?

What truly sets Muzhappilangad apart is how seamlessly it blends the thrill of adventure with the calm of nature. You can rent a vehicle for a fun ride along the sands or take a walk to the quieter ends of the beach to immerse yourself in the sounds of the waves. And if you're up for more, try your hand at parasailing or kayaking, as these activities are often available here.

For those who prefer quieter experiences, the beach also offers plenty of spots to sit back and simply admire the endless horizon. As the sun dips lower, the sky bursts into shades of orange and pink, making for a mesmerizing sunset view that perfectly concludes your day. It’s one of those rare places where moments feel like memories in the making.

While Muzhappilangad Drive-in Beach is the main attraction, the nearby Dharmadam Island also adds to its charm. This tiny, lush island is accessible by foot during low tide and offers another layer of adventure for visitors. If you're the kind of traveler who loves discovering hidden corners, this island is worth a visit.

When it’s time to refuel, local eateries near the beach serve authentic Kerala flavors, with fresh seafood being the highlight. The mix of spices and coastal ingredients creates meals that complement the day’s adventures perfectly.

For anyone staying at Malabar Beach Resort, a trip to Muzhappilangad Drive-in Beach isn’t just a detour; it’s an essential part of the experience. It’s where leisure and exploration meet, creating a day out you won’t forget anytime soon.

[torithegrey]

Not an orphan, I just understand what it feels like

The biggest dream I ever dreamed.

Growing up, one of the things I encountered in my existence, was a peculiar child therapist. Given my long term affliction with a headstrong personality (because I was 6 or 7 at the time) I wrote her off when she said something to the effect of "take all of the trash in your brain, throw it in a trash bag and throw it away.

These days (especially the last year) I have learned how to do that in a way that has not been further taxing on my desire to keep fighting forward.

That aside, one of the things that was mutually decided for this young firefly, was to go to a foster family for a bit. It was a soft variety of "scare me straight" but, with it being during Christmas, it only further pushed me into the grief I still did not know how to process at the time. It also felt weird to be in a home with strangers and their kids, and not actually feel welcome in the space.

This greatly contributed to my ability to empathize with the demons of my peers. I watched ALOT of Degrassi growing up, so when I was given the opportunity to pick up a job with Fun City Youth Academy as a peer educator (rather than flunk out of the 8th grade) I begrudgingly took it. Of course, I had to drag my best friend along on the adventure. There, we learned how to do a lot of things that were way out of my realm, at the time. It worked out pretty well, because we were both kind of black sheep in our own ways, so we pretty much always had free reign of the CoMo Art District. We also got many opportunities to coordinate events to help bridge the communication gap between kids my age, and the adults we felt were not hearing us. We did this well, because we always took the time to meet the variety of cultural spice. It's how I met most of the hippy crowd downtown (and I have been a self proclaimed pacifist for as long as I can remember.) Don't worry Beazl, not so much the killer of the 420 BuzzCut anymore (but don't worry, Zimmer is still in my Top 5 on MySpace.)

That in mind, my biggest dream is to start a program in Saint Louis that offers the same kind of program that is also tied into a string of small businesses (run locally) that offer the same variety of enrichment and alternative learning styles I had access to. I want the future leaders here, to have the same opportunity of blind respect on their healing journeys, that pay tribute to hearing AND helping them express their emotions.

There are a variety of ways to express any given feelings. With the volunteer work I have done with Gateway Burners (and a few seasons with MidWest Burners) I saw an extensive number of ways one can find physical release, as it pertains to body and mind regulation. Sometimes you just gotta break stuff. Sometimes, you need someone to see your art so brightly, that they grab you a paid job to do a mural. You should absolutely have people around who know how to do the paperwork, that way the kids can learn AND have fun while doing it. I want to do my part in ensuring common sense thrives, and new learning styles can be developed. (Because fun fact, had it not been for a bit of a turbulent home life, I pretty much cliff noted my entire way through all of school.)

I have grown a lot. I started out life in a way in which self preservation was the number one goal. The stoic way of thinking came easy to me, because I have always been damned determined not to hurt people in the ways that contributed to my own personal struggles (of which followed me much longer than I care to consider, but in the sake of vulnerability, we may discuss more in later chapters.) I also find peace in being able to mend bridges with people how I see fit. I am always first in line to believe in someone's efforts for positive self improvement, and many of those times I have forgiven, I have ended up with unsuspecting hero's in my corner ensuring my safety. (Looking at you Wise Guy's Pizza. I will never forget being incoherently sick in the ally, and ya'll sending out a pizza with my chaperone to help me feel better.)

I also dream for this to be a Radically Inclusive start up. I don't really care who comes from money, and who doesn't. I know so many local artists, visual arts specialists, audio tech geniuses, flo artists (which, let's be real, having an alternative opportunity to learn from the local bests would be really damn cool) and fellow tech and spreadsheet divinities, that I want ALL of my people to have a chance to participate at a "hands dirty" and professional standard. There are just too many people comfortably "surviving" rather than having every chance to do some of the cool shit my ass got to do (and didn't even fully grasp how to treasure at the time) that I just want there to be the good will available for anyone who needs it.

I think my next step is to contact my local representatives, to figure out what NFP organizations are already in place, that way I am able to further build a portfolio of dreams. On top of sourcing out places to get some of my art processed fine tuned for selling.

Some people think I jumped the gun on quitting my job. Yes, I am going to be pinching pennies for a bit (mostly due to my own financial mistakes, but hey. Shiz happens, and we move on.) I don't feel I jumped the gun. I 100% feel comfortable in my own transition off the floor, that way my focus in no longer split between the current dream team, and the future ones.

Some people tried to drill into me to "stop talking about home." Well, it is really hard to do when 1.) I have so many places that still hold a homey feeling in my memories, and 2.) some of those homes just got it too damn correct for me not to want to improve the experiences they provided me.

Thanks for reading the brain dump.

[arkipelagic]

Trade routes, Austronesian peoples, and shared culture among Southeast Asians during the Iron Age

As many scholars have noticed, the Indianized polity of Champa [established in AD 192] in central Vietnam provides functional parallels for its Sa Huynh predecessor [until AD ~200], in that it served as a gateway to the Indianized world for the Philippines and Vietnam, and also a gateway to the Chinese world for Malaysians and Indonesians. During the Han dynasty, the Chinese historical documents Discourses on Salt and Iron (鹽鐵論) and Book of Han—Treatise of Geography (漢書.地理志) record that the Chinese exported gold and silk to the lands around the South China Sea in exchange for glassmaking materials, crystal, agate, rhinoceros horn, aromatic woods, and spices. It was also recorded that Champa people were expert traders and sailors. We can imagine that the Sa Huynh ancestors of Champa probably traded on many geographic scales, all with considerable impact on neighboring countries.

At least some pottery traditions were shared cross the South China Sea prior to the appearance of diagnostic Sa Huynh and Kalanay pottery forms. These earlier connections may have created the contacts, channels, and contexts that facilitated other networks, such as we can trace more abundantly with Sa Huynh-Kalanay.

[…] The Pre-Sa Huynh assemblages and earlier Neolithic assemblages in central coastal Vietnam reflect a certain degree of cultural relationship with the Austronesian island world to the east, commencing most likely around 1500-1000 BC, demonstrated for instance by the similar baked clay earrings from Thach Lac, Savidug, and Nagsabaran. These relationships long preceded the Iron Age arrival of the ancestral Chamic-speakers in central Vietnam, and they were perhaps correlated with earlier contacts between other (non-Chamic) Malayo-Polynesian-speaking peoples. Current linguistic knowledge derives the Malayo-Chamic languages from Borneo, not the Philippines, reminding us that people very likely sustained a number of connections without currently documented archaeological or linguistic outcomes.

The classic Sa Huynh culture of Iron Age central Vietnam expressed considerable internal variation in pottery shapes and covered a very large area, and this diversity appears incongruent with a single and tightly defined ethnolinguistic entity such as Proto-Chamic. Modern linguistic distributions, and especially the recent discovery of Sa Huynh sites in the inland regions of the Thu Bon River Valley, make it likely that both Malayo-Polynesian and Mon-Khmer populations played important roles in the development of Iron Age Sa Huynh culture. From a longer term archaeological perspective, we see in central Vietnam an in situ native Neolithic culture of northern Phung Nguyen affinity (expressed in the Long Thanh assemblage), that received putative Island Southeast Asian cultural influences from about 1500-1000 BC onwards.

In many ways, the conspicuous archaeological record of the Iron Age has distracted our attention away from the likelihood of older cultural links across the South China Sea. In fact, the Iron Age connections very likely followed much older sea-lanes and trade-routes, but new materials and attendant social practices were introduced into the long-running system during the Iron Age. New materials, such as glass, metal, precious stones and large burial jars arguably became dominant in the archaeological record, but most importantly the associated cultural practices became and remained pervasive throughout the Iron Age communities. For whatever reasons, people in widely separated locations began following many of the same cultural traditions and expressions, seen in their persistent choice of the same types of jewelry, pottery, and burial practice.

Excerpt from “Coastal Connectivity: Long-Term Trading Networks Across the South China Sea” (2013) by Hsiao-chun Hung et. al.