#elite paternalism

[russia-libertaire]

"The combination of moral and scientific certainty helps explain the stridency, intolerance, and self-righteousness with which Chernyshevsky promoted his ideas. It also explains the blend of democratic collectivism and elitist paternalism that characterized these ideas. For while extolling service to the community as the path to personal self-fulfillment, Chernyshevsky portrayed an elite that served society largely by shaping it in accordance with the elite's own view of social justice. As a result, Chernyshevsky's ideas contained the potential for authoritarianism as well as liberation."

Michael Katz and William Wagner's introduction to What Is to Be Done?, by Nikolai Chernyshevsky

[somnoir]

My father's secretary

Danny Fenton did not expect to be secretary material but after 7 years of being a hero and having Jazz as his elder sister, he was damn good at it. He needed a job, he knew that, and Wayne Enterprises was willing to hire a 21 year old taking online college classes for aerospace engineering.

And he was fucking thankful for that cause Mr. Wayne was pretty neat and bought him good food and coffee whenever he looked out of it. Half his family were already in Gotham with only his parents in Amity. They were finally reformed and now their research finally advocated for the rights of ghosts and spread awareness on their culture. Good for them.

Jazz and Dante were in Arkham working as a psychologist and guard. Elle was still in school, enrolled into Gotham Academy once Vlad insisted on paying her tuition. To be fair, he was paying for Danny's tuition too.

But back to his secretary duties. His boss was Bruce Wayne, yes, but he did often work with the man's son and the current CEO. Tim was nice and had the same caffeine addiction as him. (Jazz highly discouraged this friendship in case they both made a monstrosity of coffee and energy drinks.)

But Mr. Wayne was the best. He was rather clumsy and a bit airheaded but he was the best fucking boss he could ever ask for. The man's paternal instincts were on point and Danny was almost intimidated when the man started handing him extra cash whenever Danny came to the office looking more tired than usual. When that failed, Mr. Wayne resorted to giving him more material things.

Now, he doesn't want to take advantage of this ridiculously kind man with a lack of self preservation (God, was this what Jazz felt about him?). But Mr. Wayne had given him this amazing coffee maker and then proceeded to give Danny the best toaster ever. And Danny has always been known to resolutely be against Billionaires adopting him. But Mr. Wayne?

Danny had honed his back talking skills to perfection to talk down arrogant elites that kept demanding for his boss. He mastered his customer service voice and that condescending look he saw the receptionists give people like they were tantruming toddlers. Danny was ready to fight for that man (Vlad was choking somewhere as the Fentons worriedly look at him).

Jason has heard about Danny Fenton a couple of times. Tim, Dick, and Bruce had mentioned him a lot. Bruce's new secretary that looked like he'd woken up from a coma and was comparable to a grumpy cat on his best days. He's seen the guy a couple times, noticed how he was almost as tall as Jason. Honestly, he kinda looked like a twig (but then that was because of Danny's suit that he made sure didn't completely fit him).

Seriously. Danny was willing to fucking fight anyone and everyone for Bruce Wayne.

The guy was strange. Very strange. Especially when the pits seemed to either become frantic or calm whenever he was around. It depended on the situation really, but mostly the pits grew calmer around Fenton. Like a cat that finally saw its favorite person. It was so weird.

He was drawn to Fenton, sometimes finding himself walking towards the man before he snaps out of it.

It's on this day where Danny was by Bruce's side, a stylus and tablet in hand. He was furiously tapping away at his phone, cursing under his breath about bothersome and stuck up cialiteses.

"Jason!" Bruce happily greets, "Don't mind Danny for a bit. He's telling of some investors for trying to meddle with the company. Tim is too sleep deprived to handle it."

"Where is Tim?"

"Danny threatened to throw the company's coffee maker out the window if he doesn't take a nap." Bruce chuckles, glancing fondly at his fiesty secretary. "Danny?"

"Give me a minute, Mr. Wayne. Some people are trying to squeeze into your schedule when I specifically told them that they can't." Danny says, clearly irritated but looks at Bruce with an apologetic gaze. "No—Mr. Luthor, neither Mr. Drake nor Mr. Wayne are available on that day—"

And it dissolved into Danny telling of what Jason assumes was Lex Luthor to stop his attempts. In other words, corporate for Fuck off.

"He's good, isn't he?" Jason humms as he follows Bruce down the hall, glancing at the tired employees that looked utterly exhausted and horrifically motivated. "Looks like adoption bait."

"Unfortunately, Danny is a very much against Billionaires adopting him. His godfather is one and has attempted multiple times." Bruce sighs, feigning a sorrowful look as he sends Danny a small pout. "What did you do when he tried the fifth time again?"

"I blew up his car, Mr. Wayne." Danny nonchalantly says, "But that only made him want to adopt me more."

Jason blinks, baffled before he's laughing at the utter absurdity of the situation.

"That sounds similar to—"

Gunshots tore through the air as people immediately screamed. At the entrance of the building was the Joker in all his insanity, guns blazing. Jason froze, sucking in a deep breath as he took one step back. They weren't in costume, they weren't the Red Hood and Batman in that moment.

"Nightwing, Robin, and Spoiler are on their way." Oracle says through the comms but that doesn't comfort him in the slightest.

It's chaos in moments and people are ducking their heads to avoid the bullets. Jason and Bruce look right at each other, taking cover as bullets ruin the walls and furniture. But Bruce is dragged from his spot, pulled towards the Joker who laughs maniacally as he pressed a gun against Bruce's head.

"Mr. Wayne!" Many people yell as they all stared in horror as the Joker threatens Gotham's beloved prince.

Jason immediately remembers an explosion and a crowbar.

(Reminder, Danny Fenton was very much ready to go to war for Bruce Wayne).

A tablet and a stylus was suddenly shoved into his arms. Jason blinks, turning to Danny who tugs at his tie and rummages through the counter for something. The Joker sees this, clearly irritated.

"You! Eyes on me!" The Joker practically demands, hysterical that not everyone was paying attention.

Danny apparently doesn't give a damn before looking the Joker straight in the eye.

"Eyes in me." Danny repeats.

A second later something was thrown and a cutter was cutting through the Joker's eye.

Jason gaped at the seemingly harmless secretary, unable to comprehend that this man had just thrown a fucking cutter into the Joker's eye.

Bruce is set free.

Everyone is frozen in place.

Everyone watched as Bruce Wayne's tired and overworked secretary beats the shit out of the Joker, saying something about how he wasn't going to lose a good boss.

No one particularly knows what to do once Danny pulls out the cutter with the Jokers blood and... Fucking shit, was that his eyeball?!

Dick and Damian arrived at some point, also too shocked to do anything. When Danny was done and satisfied, with the Joker still alive, groaning and whimpering from the pain that Danny inflicted.

As if he hadn't almost killed the Joker, Danny turns to them with a tired smile.

"Mr. Wayne, I implore you not to die. I can't lose the best boss that I've had." He plainly says and takes the tablet and stylus back from Jason.

Jason thinks he might just marry this feral man.

Yeah.

Yeah, he was definitely going to marry Danny Fenton.

Part 2 | Masterpost

[bitchiswild]

Winter Ball

Kim Minjeong x F! Reader

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 3.5k

A/n: ❄️🎻🪩

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

The Winter Ball, an event steeped in opulence and prestige, stands as the pinnacle of the year's social calendar. Within its glittering halls, destinies intertwine, where chance encounters spark romances and hearts both unite and fracture. This illustrious affair owes its existence to the esteemed Kim Seok, a titan among elites, who christened the gala in honor of his beloved daughter, Kim Minjeong, affectionately known as Winter.

Beyond its facade of elegance and grandeur, the Winter Ball is a nexus of strategic alliances and lucrative sponsorships, where business dealings are as commonplace as swirling waltzes and whispered confessions. Yet, amid the clinking glasses and shimmering gowns, there exists an unwritten expectation, one fervently held by Kim Seok himself. With each meticulously planned Winter Ball, he harbors a silent hope—a hope that his daughter, Winter, might find love amidst the enchanting splendor.

Winter, however, is a vision of independence and conviction. Echoing her father's unyielding spirit, she rebuffs the allure of romantic entanglements with a steadfast declaration: "I have no need for such entrapments. Love is a fallacy." Yet, despite her protestations, Kim Seok discerns a familiar skepticism in her words, a reflection of his own past reservations before fate introduced him to the love of his life—Winter's mother.

In the depths of his heart, Kim Seok yearns for Winter to experience the transformative power of love, much as he did. With an ardent wish that transcends the gilded confines of the Winter Ball, he quietly prays for the serendipitous arrival of the one who will awaken his daughter's belief in love, just as it was once awakened within him.

As the anticipation mounts and the chandeliers cast their ethereal glow upon the revelers, Kim Seok watches over the festivities, his paternal gaze holding a silent plea to the stars: that Winter, his cherished daughter, may find within this glittering celebration the key to unlock the guarded chambers of her heart.

~~~

Winters POV

I let out a resigned sigh, my eyes scanning the elegantly adorned room filled with twirling couples lost in their own romantic reverie. Amidst the enchanting melodies and graceful waltzes, I stood on the periphery, a silent observer of a spectacle that failed to captivate my convictions. Love, in my view, was a frivolous pursuit—an enigmatic dance of emotions I had no desire to partake in. Love at first sight? Ridiculous.

"Minjeong!" Jimin's voice interrupted my musings, drawing my attention to my ever-optimistic best friend. She flashed a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with a certainty that often accompanied her unwavering faith in matters of the heart.

"You're always so dismissive about love, but mark my words, one day you'll see. It'll all make sense," she remarked, her tone laced with a playful certainty that mirrored her perpetual optimism.

I couldn't help but scoff. "You say that as if it's some inevitable epiphany waiting to happen."

Jimin chuckled, her laughter carrying a hint of affectionate exasperation. "Trust me, Minjeong. Once you experience it, your perspective will shift entirely. Love won't seem like a waste of time anymore."

Her words lingered in the air as she sauntered away, disappearing into the crowd with her partner, leaving me to ponder her unwavering belief in the inexplicable magic of love.

Despite my protestations, I couldn't shake off the echo of her words. Was there a kernel of truth in her confident assertions? Could love truly transform one's outlook, turning what I deemed as frivolous into something profound and meaningful?

As the music swelled and the enchantment of the Winter Ball continued to weave its spell around the room, I found myself caught in a fleeting moment of contemplation. Perhaps, just perhaps, amidst the sea of skeptics, cynics, and believers alike, there existed a truth waiting to reveal itself—a truth about love that I had yet to uncover.

As I made my way towards the refreshments, a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught my attention. A figure, graceful and poised, mirrored my steps toward the drink table. Her presence, almost magnetic, tugged at my senses, and for a fleeting moment, the room seemed to shrink, centering around this enigmatic stranger.

"Sorry, am I in your way?" Her gentle voice broke the spell, drawing me from my reverie. I shook my head, startled by the sudden rush of emotions that stirred within me. "N-No, you're not. It's okay," I managed to stutter out, my heart thundering in my chest.

She giggled, her laughter a melody that resonated through the air, and in that moment, it felt like I was enveloped in pure bliss. Was this the inexplicable sensation Jimin spoke of—the rush of emotions, the rapid heartbeat, all in the presence of a stranger? Could this be the much-dismissed notion of love at first sight?

Summoning an ounce of courage I hadn't known I possessed, I extended my hand towards her. "My name's Minjeong. What's yours?" The words stumbled out, coated in a mix of nerves and excitement.

The girl turned toward me, her eyes sparkling with an unspoken allure. "Y/n," she replied, taking my hand in hers. "Nice to meet you, Minjeong. But I've got to get going; my friends are waiting for me. I'll see you on the dance floor?" Her words lingered in the air, a question tinged with a hint of anticipation.

I could only nod dumbly, lost momentarily in the radiance of her smile. As she giggled and gracefully departed, I felt a rush of relief flood through me. It was as if the weight of the moment lifted as she left my vicinity. Gathering my composure, I hurriedly made my way through the crowd, seeking out Jimin amidst the throng of revelers.

"Jimin!" I called out, scanning the crowd for my ever-supportive best friend. Spotting her animatedly conversing with a group nearby, I navigated through the sea of dancers and socialites, eager to share the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.

"Minjeong, there you are!" Jimin's eyes lit up as she noticed me approaching, her expression expectant. "Did you find yourself a drink?"

I chuckled, trying to compose myself after the unexpected encounter. "Yeah, but more importantly, Jimin, I just had the most...unexpected moment."

Jimin arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? Do tell!"

I recounted the brief yet intense interaction with Y/n, the rush of emotions, and the lingering sensation of having stumbled upon something inexplicably enchanting.

Jimin's grin widened with each word, a silent acknowledgment dancing in her eyes. "Minjeong, could it be? Love at first sight?"

I hesitated, grappling with the idea I'd dismissed moments before. "I don't know, Jimin. It sounds so cliché, doesn't it? But there was something about her... It was different."

Jimin's laughter bubbled forth. "Welcome to the club, Minjeong! Looks like someone's heart might be softening after all."

I rolled my eyes playfully but couldn't deny the fluttering feeling in my chest, a strange mix of nervousness and excitement at the thought of seeing Y/n again.

"Will you go dance with her?" Jimin nudged, her gaze filled with encouragement.

"I-I think so," I stammered, surprised by my own resolve. "I hope I see her there."

With Jimin's teasing encouragement and the memory of Y/n's smile lingering in my mind, I found myself swaying to the music, unable to shake off the lingering anticipation of a potential reunion.

As the night progressed and the melodies intertwined with laughter and whispers, I couldn't help but steal glances around the room, hoping for another glimpse of Y/n amidst the swirling crowd.

Time had passed, and there was no sight of Y/n. Faint disappointment settled in as I made my way back to the bar, hoping to find solace in another drink. Yet, to my surprise, there she was, standing next to a guy who seemed to be making her visibly uncomfortable.

My steps faltered as I approached the bar, the familiar sight of Y/n amidst an uncomfortable interaction stopping me in my tracks. A knot formed in my stomach, an instinctive urge to intervene surging within me.

Y/n stood there, her expression strained, a polite yet uneasy smile plastered on her face. Beside her loomed a guy, his demeanor exuding an unsettling sense of entitlement. His persistent attempts at conversation were met with Y/n's subtle but visible discomfort.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" I questioned, my voice poised but carrying an underlying concern.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, a hint of relief flickering across her face. "Minjeong! I'm so glad you're here," she responded, her voice tinged with gratitude.

I turned my attention to the guy beside her, offering a friendly yet assertive smile. "Hi there! I'm Minjeong. Sorry to interrupt, but Y/n and I have some catching up to do, right?"

The guy glanced between us, seemingly taken aback but sensing the shift in the atmosphere, he excused himself with a half-hearted smile and sauntered away.

Y/n exhaled a breath she seemed to have been holding, offering me a grateful smile. "Thank you, Minjeong. That was...unexpected."

I shrugged, trying to downplay the gravity of the situation. "No problem. Looked like you needed a rescue."

As the tension dissipated, Y/n's gaze met mine, a silent understanding passing between us. The brief yet charged moment solidified something unspoken, a connection forming in the wake of an unexpected rescue.

"Hey, let's grab that drink together," I suggested, hoping to offer some reprieve from the uncomfortable encounter.

Y/n's smile widened, a genuine spark returning to her eyes. "I'd like that."

As we moved towards the bar, the weight of the encounter fading into the background, a newfound sense of camaraderie and intrigue filled the space between us.

The ambient glow of the Winter Ball seemed to dim in the wake of the burgeoning connection between Y/n and me. We settled at a quieter corner of the bustling venue, cocooned in our own world, amid the gentle hum of conversations and the occasional tinkling of glasses.

"So, Minjeong," Y/n began, her voice a melodic invitation to unravel the layers of our mutual acquaintance. "What brings you to the Winter Ball?"

I shared anecdotes about attending with Karina, my father's insistence on finding love for me at these events, and my own skepticism about the enchantment of love.

"And what about you, Y/n?" I inquired, eager to reciprocate the sharing. "How did you end up here?"

She laughed softly, the sound like a symphony in the midst of the ball's elegance. "Honestly, I was dragged here by a friend. Not much of a fan of these extravagant affairs myself."

As we conversed, the conversation flowed effortlessly, each exchange peeling away the layers of initial awkwardness. We discovered shared interests, from music preferences to our views on the complexities of life. There was a comfortable rhythm to our interaction, a natural chemistry that seemed to bridge any gap between us.

Time ceased to exist as we exchanged stories, laughter, and thoughts. The once-imposing Winter Ball now felt like an intimate setting, our dialogue weaving an invisible thread between us, binding our newfound connection.

The night wore on, the music shifting from lively tunes to mellower melodies, yet our conversation continued, unhurried and unreserved. Amidst the glamour and opulence of the ball, a genuine connection had blossomed—a serendipitous encounter that defied the confines of the grand event.

As the evening drew to a close and the final strains of music echoed through the hall, I realized that amidst the sea of faces and fleeting encounters, I had found an unexpected and cherished connection in Y/n.

Our exchange continued, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and aspirations. As the night unfolded its secrets, we found ourselves drawn to the idea that chance encounters often held the most unforeseen treasures.

Eventually, the allure of the wintry night beckoned, and Y/n suggested we step outside to catch a breath of fresh air. The grand doors opened, leading us to the quiet serenity of the winter landscape outside.

A hushed blanket of snow had begun to descend, painting the night in a soft, ethereal glow. The air was crisp, and the gentle flakes danced around us, adding a touch of enchantment to the already magical evening.

Y/n and I stood side by side, gazing at the mesmerizing sight before us. The snowflakes twirled in the air, creating a tranquil scene that felt straight out of a storybook.

"It's beautiful," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

Y/n nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the soft glimmer of the falling snow. "It really is. There's something so serene about snowfall, isn't there?"

We stood there, amidst the quiet elegance of the wintry night, sharing a moment that transcended the grandeur of the Winter Ball. The snowflakes continued their graceful descent, enveloping us in a cocoon of tranquility and wonder.

In that peaceful solitude, our conversation took on a more introspective tone. We spoke of dreams, aspirations, and the inexplicable beauty found in the simplest of moments—a shared understanding that seemed to deepen the connection between us.

As the snow continued to cascade from the heavens, we exchanged quiet smiles, a silent acknowledgment of the rare beauty of this shared moment. For in the delicate dance of snowflakes and the whispers of our conversation, something special had bloomed between us.

As the delicate snowflakes continued their graceful descent, an unspoken warmth enveloped us in a cocoon of shared moments and unspoken sentiments. I turned to Y/n, a genuine sincerity coloring my words.

"I really enjoy your company, Y/n," I expressed, my voice carrying the weight of truth and vulnerability.

Her eyes sparkled with a reflective radiance, mirroring the sentiment. "I enjoy your company too, Minjeong," she replied, her smile a testament to the comfort found in our connection.

We stood there, side by side, witnessing the tranquil spectacle of the first snowfall. The silence between us was filled with unspoken words, an uncharted territory of emotions and possibilities.

"You know what they say about the first snow," I remarked, breaking the tranquil silence between us.

Y/n turned to me, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "No, what is it?" she asked, her voice soft and attentive.

"It's where you make a wish, and they say it might just come true," I explained, a tinge of wistfulness in my tone.

"Make a wish, Minjeong," she encouraged gently, her eyes filled with a gentle encouragement that urged me to embrace the moment.

I let out a sigh, the weight of my wish settling in my chest. "I wish to take you out on a date," I confessed, the words slipping out, carrying the earnestness of my feelings.

In the tranquil serenity of the wintry night, with snowflakes twirling around us like silent witnesses, I dared to voice a longing that had quietly blossomed within me.

Y/n's gaze held mine, her eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. Her soft smile echoed the silent understanding that had grown between us, a shared connection woven in the magical embrace of the first snow.

As the snowfall continued its gentle descent, a subtle chill began to permeate the air. I noticed Y/n subtly shivering, the cold seeping through the elegant attire she wore for the ball.

"You're getting cold, aren't you?" I asked, concern lacing my words as I observed her discomfort.

Y/n nodded, a faint blush gracing her cheeks. "A little, yes."

Without hesitation, I slipped off my own warm sweater, a comforting shield against the wintry chill, and offered it to her. "Here, take this. It's warmer," I insisted, my voice carrying both concern and a hint of bashfulness.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise at the gesture, her gaze meeting mine in a mix of gratitude and astonishment. "Minjeong, I couldn't—"

"Please," I urged gently, my smile attempting to ease any reservations she might have. "I want you to be warm."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Y/n accepted the sweater, wrapping it around herself with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Minjeong. You're too kind."

The exchange brought an unexpected warmth to the wintry night—not just from the shared gesture but from the growing connection and the unspoken promise that hung between us.

With Y/n now shielded from the biting cold, our shared moment continued, the snowflakes descending around us in a silent ballet. The act of offering my sweater felt like a bridge between us, forging an unspoken closeness that transcended the physical warmth it provided.

As we stood there, enveloped in the beauty of the snowfall and the quiet understanding that bound us, the promise of a forthcoming date lingered in the air, an anticipation that added an extra layer of magic to the Winter Ball's enchanting allure.

The clock struck midnight, signaling the end of the enchanting evening. Reluctantly, I walked Y/n to her car, the weight of impending separation casting a shadow over our otherwise uplifting interaction.

"Here's my number. Text me about the date plan; I'm looking forward to it," Y/n said, her smile radiant with anticipation, as she handed me a slip of paper bearing her contact information.

My bashfulness emerged, rendering me momentarily speechless. "I'm excited too. I'll be sure to text you. Just get home safe, alright?" I replied softly, hoping to mask the fluttering nerves within me.

Y/n's smile widened, and in that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Her gentle kiss on my cheek felt like a jolt of electricity, sending my heart into a frenzy. For an instant, I felt as though I might lose my footing, caught in the unexpected rush of emotions.

"Good night, Minjeong," she whispered, her words carrying a softness that reverberated through me.

I stood there, watching her car depart, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. Placing a hand over my heart, I attempted to steady the rapid beating within my chest, the lingering sensation of her kiss lingering like an echo.

Before I could collect my thoughts, Karina came bounding towards me, brimming with excitement. "Oh my gosh, I saw everything! Minjeong is head over heels, everyone!" she exclaimed with uncontainable enthusiasm.

I stood there, Karina's excited proclamation ringing in my ears, a mix of bewilderment and anticipation coursing through me. Her words echoed a truth I had vehemently denied for so long—love had never held a place in my beliefs.

But as I stood there, my hand unconsciously lingering on the spot where Y/n's kiss had landed, a revelation dawned upon me. I had once deemed love a frivolous notion, dismissing it as a mere illusion. Yet, in this whirlwind encounter, I found myself yearning for something I never thought I'd desire.

The Winter Ball had unveiled a world of possibilities I had stubbornly ignored, and in the lingering warmth of Y/n's presence, my heart had stirred with unfamiliar emotions. What had begun as skepticism had morphed into an eager anticipation for what lay ahead—a date that held the promise of something genuine and heartfelt.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I found myself eagerly awaiting the prospect of love—a concept I once rejected but now, with each flutter of my heart, embraced with open arms.

Years cascaded by in a beautiful tapestry woven with shared moments, laughter, and a love that surpassed every doubt. Y/n and I stood side by side, a testament to the transformative power of love, as we returned to the Winter Ball each year.

My father's beaming smile was a reflection of his joy as he witnessed the love that had bloomed between Y/n and me. The Winter Ball, once a place of skepticism and uncertainty for me, now held a cherished significance—a testament to our enduring bond and the promise of a love that had weathered the test of time.

With each passing holiday season, Y/n and I found ourselves wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence. The Winter Ball had become more than just an extravagant event; it was a celebration of our love story—a reminder of the serendipity that had brought us together and the countless memories we continued to create.

The twinkling lights, the elegant dances, and the festive atmosphere held a deeper meaning now—a symbol of our shared journey, a testament to the enduring love that had blossomed amidst the enchantment of that first Winter Ball.

As we danced under the glittering lights, surrounded by the echoes of laughter and the whispers of timeless promises, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the unexpected turns that had led me to find the love of my life.

Every holiday season was now a cherished opportunity—a chance to revel in the love that had transformed my beliefs, turning skepticism into an unwavering certainty that love, indeed, was the most powerful magic of all.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

[goodqueenaly]

Question that's been on my mind for a while. What do you think a maiden's cloak would look like for a woman who doesn't have a family sigil? For instance a bastard woman, or a member of the Smallfolk (It was Jenny of Oldstones that inspired this line of thinking)

The inherent problem, of course, is that ASOIAF is a story almost exclusively told from the perspective of the aristocratic and royal elite. Therefore, while we have not exactly lacked for examples of weddings in the story, we as readers have not exactly been positioned to observe a peasant wedding, much less to understand the general format of weddings among non-noble Westerosi. (At most, we’ve heard of such weddings secondhand, with nothing in the way of ceremonial detail - the marriage of Lyonel Corbray to his Gulltown bride, for example, or Alysanne’s sorry tale of the blacksmith’s daughter raped by her local overlord.) Is a cloaking ceremony even part of your average Westerosi peasant wedding, or is this more common among aristocratic marriages? We simply don’t know, and we probably won’t know anytime soon, at least in the main novels.

Still, if I were to speculate, I would say that to the extent peasants and the Westerosi merchant/middle class follow this tradition, brides and grooms would likely approach the idea simply literally, rather than dynastically as well. So long as the bride was being publicly de-cloaked by her father (or, perhaps, paternal equivalent), using any given cloak or cloak-like piece of clothing, and re-cloaked by her new husband, I don’t think any of the attendees would have been confused about the symbolic message - namely, that the bride “passed from her father's protection to her husband's” at that moment, in the words of Tyrion.

The other point I would note here is that I doubt the validity of any given Westerosi marriage ceremony has ever hung on whether the bride was cloaked by her new husband. Rogar Baratheon, after all, was far more concerned with whether Jaehaerys had consummated his marriage with Alysanne than whether there had been a cloaking; conversely, while Tyrion may have performed some sort of cloaking ceremony with Tysha (given that Tyrion “wrapped her in [his] cloak” after Jaime left them), his marriage ceremony certainly did not prevent Tywin from having the union dissolved. Whether the marriage was consummated, whether the married parties had the ability to enter into and consent to the union, whether the union was properly conducted (at least in terms of the septon performing a marriage in the Faith) and witnessed - all these factors are or likely are far more important in determining whether the marriage is valid than merely whether the husband put a cloak on his wife. Consequently, when we get to the story of Duncan and Jenny, I imagine the debate around annulment will be whether their wedding was witnessed (and thereby able to be verified) and consummated, and whether Duncan and/or Jenny (but especially Duncan) had the ability to agree to the marriage (given that Duncan may have been below the Westerosi age of majority and was certainly betrothed to someone else).

[thepsychiatrix]

🧶Astro-notes. ✨️

Alas, isn't it funny that Pluto the planet representing obsession in modern astrology, is literally more obsessed about than all other placements and archetypes?

🎈🎉🎋

2H point us to where we can find our voice, what kind of voice we have. And because the voice is tied to the subconscious 8H it could also add more onto the 1H identity characteristic in a person. It makes me feel as though this venusian home by ruling the neck means every person has a way to be affirmed through words, and therefore words of affirmation being more of a common need to everyone.

☪️♎️🔆

7H is the house of union, I understand that it's the perfect for marriage synastry, and maybe even longer term marriage because once again, the lord of time, Karma - Saturn is exalted here.

The only more interesting thing is that in the 8H another traditional saturn rulership ♄ sign, exalts. I.e aquarius. It makes me think as though the two houses are good for romance, because the 8H and scorpio sign often represents longevity.

(But am willing to hear perspectives on such - would be very nice) ♡

🧒 🌐 ⛪

Capricorn is often regarded as the sign of compartmentalization, in that a sign that has an elite way of order and organization, compared to Virgo that's just critical to achieving any perfection.

Capricorn insists in an optimal execution of its own tasks and carrying of identity, and so, this ideal quality and knowing the 10H rules our Public (& social) self could mean that were Capricorn is in our charts that's how best we can present ourselves in Public, if we ever need to.

⚙ 🏭 🏢

11H rules revolution. A continuation of the cultures held and adhered to in the 9H, akin to the 8H themes of transformation, this indicates that, culture is something subject to change. And usually, it happens in an 11H way of activism, anthropology, both human and animal politics. And so it could easily relegate to this personalities gaining easier access to public than others. 11H stelliums especially, and many could be Taurus suns. And in this case, the venusian charm, ties people to such personalities.

🌙 🌖 🌕

The moon, represented in the 4H, the exaltation home of jupiter only insists further that if home is where the heart is; then our expansion(Jupiter) begins with a good heart. Having a good heart regards to regulation of intentions. Which are the most secretive parts of a human, and so a 4H synastry union may only work with absolute honesty, and no; backstabbing. Additionally, it's in the fourth house we're granted the keys 🗝 to our unique PRIVATE selves. Ruling our maternal Inheritance too.

📚 📜 🚸

3H Gemini archetype represented by twins, means that with a stellium, you could easily be identical to one of your siblings or even cousin. And even without all that, it denotes paternal Inheritance therefore when it is, negatively aspected one could easily guess their luck with paternal Inheritance.

I've also realized sisters signs very much mirror each other in that sometimes Gemini heavy placements will appear like saggitarius placements sometimes, making 🔥 me think each placement is practically a pendulum, so, there's no aquarius without leo traits, etc

possibly because of lunar nodes.

Finally, women are soulful beings, and when you look at feminine axes it is preeminent and clearly evident, that, men are spiritual too. The spirit, brings us inspiration. And soul, helps us experience life on deeper unconscious levels.

[pumpumdemsugah]

Do you care about treating art and crafts as a form of art, or are you bringing up elitism and sexism as a shield because you see contemporary and fine art as beyond the brains of the brown skin, female and working class???

There's this paternalism i see pop up from people that do this and i dislike the idea that someone with a background like me having an art degree or being interested in art is beyond the scope for the rest of the various communities I belong to. Everyone should be taught how to interact with weird contemporary art. It's good to mentally stretch people and have them engage with odd shit.

Its anti-intellectualism wrapped in a credible point, and I hate it.

[crow-aeris]

So i’ve been thinking (shocking, really) about the world building for my reverse robins wingfic.

ike, sure, it’s a little fic and ppl prolly won’t notice, but i just cant help but speculate.

in this au, everyone is born with wings unless afflicted with a certain illness, disease, or genetic defect that leaves you with no avian traits (which is the excuse the kents use).

but how would having wings influence the infrastructure? well, i’m glad you asked! cities are more compact because there isn’t really as big a need for transportation unless you’re an aves that’s just not built for long-distance travels like various passeriformes birds.

planes still exist, but they’re utilized by the avians who aren’t able to fly long distances. avians who have wings like albatrosses or terns or other soaring birds would probably require licenses to do their annual migrations and travels- same applies to regualr migritory species like ducks and geese- where the instinct remains despite not needing to migrate.

of course, with the constant migration through countries, i think there would be more mixing of races and ethnicities especially within the migratory bird communities, so there would probably be less overall hostilities.

now, there will still be discriminatory and hateful ideals, and some are shown in my fics. For example, Gotham’s elites are mostly made up of raptors and birds of prey like eagles, kites, kestrels, hawks, falcons, ospreys, owls, etc- birds who actively hunt down mammalian or lizards for prey (in the real world i mean), that is because of displays of powers. Scavengers like condors, vultures, buzzards, are regarded lower on the social ladder but not as low as perching birds and song birds simply because of their ability to have sustained flight.

like i mentioned briefly, songbirds and perching birds (passerines) are regarded lowly in general due to their “weak demeanor” and overall flashiness, which gives them the reputation of being only suitable to work in brothels and such regardless of gender (but especially dudes where the aves species exhibits sexual dimorphism, eg. cardinals, peacocks, golden pheasants, etc.)

there are definitely some exceptions, being corvids. some cultures have corvids as villans, whereas others may portray corvids as intelligent and charming.

now, we arrive to genetics. im still not 100% sure how i want the phenotype of an avian to be passed down. so far, it’s mainly just sons are the same aves as their fathers (like thomas wayne, bruce, and damian are all harpy eagles, but martha wayne was a kingfisher and talia is an imperial eagle), but im not sure abt daughters. genetics is messy, but i think i’ve managed to sertle on a 50/50 chance of being born either the same aves as their mother, or their paternal grandmother. like if damian had been born with xx instead of xy chromosomes, then he’d either have been an imperial eagle like talia, or a kingfisher like martha wayne. intersex people exist too, and i think their wings would be a blend between both their mother and father’s.

now for the the supers and the other metas:

as mentioned previously, the kents claim that their adopted son had a genetic disorder that basically prevented him from growing wings (or just left him in a state similar to humans before they were all “cursed” by a diety to have wings, or whatever. in the dcu, that probably woulnd’t even be too far fetched), so clark lacked a major social component to his childhood. without wings and a tail, others would have a harder time reading his emotions, seeing as these appendages are crucial in nonverbal communication between avians, and that gives clark a leg up in reading other people, but having them not understanding what he’s thinking.

now with jon and kon, they have two VERY different situations. for jon, since his paternal side is wings-free, i just gave him lois’s ave- western kingbird- instead of making him no-winged. kon, on the other hand was a test-tube baby, so it was a toss-up on whether he’d get lex luthor’s purple martin wings, or clark’s no-wings since they’re both guys. I think kon would’ve enjoyed wings, so i gave him the purple martin wings. Plus, they’re pretty much invulnerable, and their wings are no different.

diana and the other ppl from themyscira wouldn’t have wings since they aren’t human, and same applies to the other jl members who aren’t humans.

on a wholly separate note: the lazarus pits. here, not only does it give you white streaks in your hair, it’ll bleach out your feathers. so liek if a peacock was thrown into the pit, not only would they die and come back manic, their feathers would make them look like piebald, or have different markings or white ticking.

anyways, that’s the end of my long post, and i hope yall enjoyed listening to me speculate and talk about birds and my silly little guys!!

[marq-lynch]

Me: But the thing that truly drives me into the gaping maw of Madness when I think about it too long is that The Climax of the Hangman Page & Swerve Strickland Feud, the moment we see the balance of the constantly shifting grains of sand into the paralleled and now bound together scale move past a moment of brief neutrality and total synchronicity and tip in the other direction to reverse events in a twisted mirror role, that moment isn't AT Revolution 2024, though we feel its effects the next Wednesday and think it is for months.

That tipping point is actually hidden from us, the only moments of character intimacy and vulnerability off camera, when Swerve follows Hangman home and realizes he is never going to be the priority in Adam's life and is sabotaging himself and the lives of those around both of them, something Hangman will fail to realize as he begins to sink into his self-sabotaging ways further.

Swerve, who only a few days ago was the one demanding time and being denied it (because five more minutes or a million wouldn't matter) is now the one to deny attention to Hangman, as he thrives under a healthier lifestyle, allowing him to become champion and get everything he ever wanted except he's (mostly) alone at the top of the mountain, losing the Mogul Embassy and his former tag partner the same way Hangman was estranged from the Elite. Hangman's heel turn and burning of Swerve's home is the obvious parallel to the heavy escalation before the death match but if we look at the timeline for when Adam would have to have told AEW that he would need paternity leave that's right around Wrestledream, and we know the cage match was supposed to originally follow much faster in discussions they had but they slowed down the feud after the deathmatch was so big which means at some very early point they figured out this entire escalation arc of Swerve as the other woman hinging on an entirely unseen scene after Revolution after which Swerve had to act his heart out to a crowd and basically pull a face turn that would allow him to become world champ within Seven Weeks on the back of that turn, all for a reveal that wouldn't come out until he had lost the belt already six months later in October.

Teams Call: Okay, we need you to you have the monthly metrics though

[shuishido]

New Year Special! SKIP members' top secret information revealed! by Telemaga.net

All the descs put through google translate (LONG TEXT WARNING):

Yuma Hize:

23 years old.

A researcher at the Hoshimoto City branch of the Monster Science Research Institute (SKIP). His specialty is monster biology.

Personality: He has a kind and straightforward heart, and is always close to those in weak positions. He has a saying in his heart that he wants to keep running to protect everyone's future, and if he thinks it is for the sake of others, he will take action first. His actions sometimes make those around him nervous...

Background: 16 years ago, he lost his father (Tetsuya Hize) and mother (Takako Hize) in an attack by the space monster Monogeros . At that time, he was saved by a mysterious giant who appeared, and his body and mind became one, and he gained the power to become Ultraman Arc . Later, when many monsters and aliens appeared, he transformed into Arc and began to fight. Since then, he fights monsters together with Arc . After the incident 16 years ago, he moved to the house of his paternal grandmother (Masumi Hize). As a child, he had a strong fear of monsters in general, but after becoming a fan of paleontologist Shinya Makino , he was able to face monsters as living creatures. After entering university, he majored in monster biology. After graduating, he joined SKIP, wanting to help people suffering from monster disasters due to his own painful experiences.

Shu Ishido:

25 years old.

Special investigator of the Earth Defense Force's Space Science Bureau. Specializes in astrophysics and astrobiology.

Personality: in Hoshimoto City, where monster disasters occur one after another, there are many cases suspected to be of space origin, so he is stationed at the SKIP Hoshimoto City branch. He is always dressed in a neat suit, and his calm, collected, and rational behavior can sometimes make him seem like a perfectionist with no flaws. However, in reality, he has a kind heart and a sense of justice, and when necessary, he will cooperate with SKIP beyond the boundaries of organizations and rules. He and Yuuma became good friends. His respected grandfather was a big coffee fan, so he has been drinking coffee since he was a child, and it has become an indispensable part of his daily life. His hobby is reading, and he is particularly fond of classic mystery novels from overseas.

Background: born into an elite family that has produced many world-class scientists, he spent his childhood in the United States. He was the youngest student to enter the prestigious Space Science University in the country, and after graduating at the top of his class, he studied abroad in Europe. He decides to join the Earth Defense Force's Space Science Bureau, an organization that his respected grandfather helped establish.

Rin Natsume:

25 years old.

Researcher at SKIP Hoshimoto City Branch. Specializes in mechanical engineering (especially robotics), and is in charge of systems at the branch. She is also responsible for managing YouPi.

Personality: a genius programmer, she is good at all things mechanical, and sometimes invents new equipment depending on the investigation. She has a bright and straightforward personality, a strong sense of professionalism, and as a senior, she often scolds Yuma, who tends to rush ahead. However, she is also a bit of a natural and emotional person, so things don't always go as planned.

Background: during her childhood, she moved around Japan due to her parents' work. She was good at science subjects, and became interested in mechanical engineering in high school, but she felt alienated because people around her didn't understand her. However, meeting and being encouraged by monster scientist Yamagami Satoru was one of the reasons she later aimed to join SKIP. She continues to be friends with Shiba Aoi, a classmate who was close to her during ger impressionable years, even now that she is a working adult. She is the godmother of YouPi, and the name comes from the name of the dog that Rin had when she was a child. In her private life, she attends craft classes and has chosen the embroidery course. The quiet time spent diligently working her hands to create colorful patterns is an important stress reliever for her.

Hiroshi Ban:

43 years old.

Head of SKIP Hoshimotoshi Branch. Specializes in geology (especially mineralogy). Yuma and Rin 's boss.

Personality: he instructs and supervises investigations at the branch, and requests the Earth Defense Force to be deployed in emergencies. He is strict on discipline, but is not arrogant and has a friendly personality. When talking about his specialty, he can easily forget his position and become absorbed... SKIP does not have the offensive power against monsters like the Defense Force, so he often struggles to make decisions in emergencies. As head of the branch, Hiroshi is often forced to order a retreat from the scene or restrain the actions of his impatient subordinates. However, when a truly serious situation occurs, he makes bold decisions that surprise those around him, and is not afraid to see things through to the end. He is a little unfamiliar with computer and Internet-related matters, and tends to leave it all to Rin.

Background: as a child, he was a dinosaur lover, and as a university student, he studied under paleontologist Shinya Makino, and together they excavated and investigated fossils. Hoping to use the knowledge he gained at that time to help someone close to him, he abandoned his path as a researcher and joined SKIP. He has been assigned to several branch offices, including Hokkaido, Miyagi, Niigata, and Tottori, but was appointed as the director of the newly established Hoshimoto City branch office. He lives with his wife and daughter, and is always worried about his daughter Tsugumi's condition. He is a big fan of dogs (Shiba Inu), but refrains from keeping one because Tsugumi is allergic to them. On holidays, his greatest joy is treating his family to homemade meals.

YouPi:

Height: 2 meters.

Weight: 220kg.

An autonomous AI-equipped support robot that works with investigators at the SKIP Hoshimoto City Branch. Nicknamed YouPi. It can communicate through speech, and is adept at answering the phone at the SKIP monster hotline and cleaning the branch. Its catchphrase is "Leave it to YouPi." It has cameras in both eyes and on both chest areas, and the vertical slit between its eyebrows is where the monitor image projection port and infrared sensor are located. There are lighting devices on both shoulders, and the center of its chest is a loudspeaker. Its arms, which boast great strength, are equipped with multi-nozzles that can spray fire extinguishing agents, as well as light plug cables that can access electronic devices, infiltrate networks, and conduct research and analysis. There are welding nozzles on the fingertips of both hands. It is equipped with a shield when working in dangerous places. It moves around by carrying it on its back, and then carries it on its left arm. There is a charging port on its back, and it can be charged with a cable or powered by Yupi . Youpi can be separated into a head and a body, and when separated, the head is called "You" and the body is called "Pi". The Youhead can function as a drone not only in the sky but also underwater, conducting surveys and taking photographs in places that are difficult for investigators to access. Pi, the body, performs various missions on the ground and supports the SKIP team. Pi can also transform into vehicle mode by folding its knees and putting its wheels on the ground. In addition to moving by running, it can also carry people and supplies. Vehicle mode is also useful when catching You on the ground after he has lost control in the air .

[paganimagevault]

Miscellaneous Hungarian archaeological items from the migration era, from the Urals to the Carpathians 9th-10th C. CE. Sources can be found on my blog, link at bottom.

The Magyars, as a nation, seem to have originated in the region of the Urals and Volga and their original territory covered a large amount of what is European Russia today. This region was known as Magna Hungaria or Ancient Hungary in the Middle Ages. In the 13th century Christian monks tried unsuccessfully to convert the Pagan inhabitants of Ancient Hungary, who they noted spoke the same language as the Hungarians in the Carpathian Basin (will post more on this later). Now genetics show they were related too. Some of the Hungarians in the Carpathian region were found to be direct family members of these Uralic-based Hungarians according to this genetic study below. I grabbed some highlights of genetics article here and included some archaeological image finds:

"Two recent articles have investigated the Y-haplogroup variability of Hungarian conquerors describing the conqueror’s elite population as heterogenous, with significant proportion of European, Finno-Permic, Caucasian and Siberian (or East Eurasian) paternal lineages. Fóthi et al. have claimed that the Hungarian conquerors originated from three distant sources: Inner Asia (Lake Baikal – Altai Mountains), Western Siberia – Southern Urals (Finno-Ugric peoples) and the Black Sea – Northern Caucasus (Northern Caucasian Turks, Alans, and Eastern Europeans). Both studies pointed out the presence of the Y-haplogroup N-Z1936 (also known as N3a4-Z1936 under N-Tat/M46), which is frequent among Finno-Ugric speaking peoples.

...The genetic connection of Uyelgi cemetery in the Trans-Ural and 10th century Hungarian conquerors in the Carpathian Basin is supposed by close maternal relationships of the following individuals: Uyelgi3 from Kurgan 28 of the youngest horizon and three Hungarian conquerors from Karos II cemetery have identical U4d2 mitogenome haplotype (Supplementary Fig. S4p). Furthermore, the mtDNA A12a lineage of Hconq3 (30-40 years old woman from Harta cemetery dated to the first half of 10th century AD) is an ancestor of the mtDNA lineage of Uyelgi7 (from Kurgan 30 of the youngest horizon of the cemetery) based on the A12a haplogroup tree (see Supplementary Fig. S4a).

The mentioned graves from Uylegi show the characteristic of the Srostki culture, where the gilt silver mounts with plant ornaments were typical, and which was disseminated from the Siberian Minusinsk Depression and the Altai region through the Baraba Steppe and North-Kazakhstan to the Trans-Ural region (Fig. 1).

The connection of Uyelgi cemetery and Hungarian conquerors is visible on the N1a1a1a1a branch of the tree of haplogroup N1a1 too, that was prevalent among the ancient Hungarians (Fig. 5). Here seven Hungarian conqueror samples from cemeteries Kenézlő-Fazekaszug, Orosháza-Görbicstanya and Karos-Eperjesszög clustered together on one branch, while the five Uyelgi samples from the earliest and latest horizons are located together next to this branch.

Majority of Uyelgi males belonged to Y chromosome haplogroup N, and according to combined STR, SNP and Network analyses they belong to the same subclade within N-M46 (also known as N-tat and N1a1-M46 in ISOGG 14.255). N-M46 nowadays is a geographically widely distributed paternal lineage from East of Siberia to Scandinavia. One of its subclades is N-Z1936 (also known as N3a4 and N1a1a1a1a2 in ISOGG 14.255), which is prominent among Uralic speaking populations, probably originated from the Ural region as well and mainly distributed from the West of Ural Mountains to Scandinavia (Finland). Seven samples of Uyelgi site most probably belong to N-Y24365 (also known as N-B545 and N1a1a1a1a2a1c2 in ISOGG 14.255) under N-Z1936, a specific subclade that can be found almost exclusively in todays’ Tatarstan, Bashkortostan and Hungary (ISOGG, Yfull)."

-Early Medieval Genetic Data from Ural Region Evaluated in the Light of Archaeological Evidence of Ancient Hungarians

[ploompkin]

@faerunsbest As promised, my headcanons for Tilses and Zevlor:

Tilses is one of those people who has always known what she wants to be when she grows up. She joins the Hellrider equivalent of the cadets as soon as she’s of age (I think that would be 16, but maybe it would even be younger, like 14?) and is the most hardworking out of all her peers. Like I imagine young Zevlor was, she has a strong sense of justice and a lot of faith that if she puts in the work and is ‘good enough’, then she’ll be able to help bring a good name to her tiefling people.

She’s a strong warrior but lacks refinement in her skill (obviously, she’s only young), and yet graduated from cadets top of her class. For that reason I think she’d immediately start working relatively close to Zevlor, maybe placed in one of his elite soldier’s care as a sort of apprentice kind of thing- so she quickly gets access to the inner circle of the Hellriders. The inner circle however, is full of older soldiers who grew up together, and is a far cry from the younger soldiers that she had just been training with a few months prior. She feels totally out of place and a little overwhelmed, and while her mentor tries to be kind to her… yeah.

That’s where our dear commander comes in! He immediately takes an interest in Tilly, because he sees his younger self in her and both admires that, and wants to protect the hope and ideals he knows she has. So. When he sees her sitting alone one evening, he just… wanders over and comes to sit with her. She’s very surprised, and kind of intimidated- because this is the commander of the Hellriders for Gods sake- the man whom she and the other cadets looked up to while they trained. (HC that at this point Zevlor has been a commander for near a decade). But then they just talk, and the conversation flows. She feels comfortable with him! For the first time, she starts to feel like a proper Hellrider.

The next time the inner circle are hanging out, she actually comes to sit with them— and beats them all at cards. (Whether or not they let her win is up for debate). Zevlor is so proud (affectionate dad!)

I think Zevlor probably, like many of the other Hellriders, only took temporary lovers and didn’t settle down. Being a Hellrider is for life, is the phrase commonly tossed around, which makes me think soldiers usually completely commit to their careers and have little time for anything else. Now he’s older though, he’s starting to wish he had a family of his own… so he comes to feel paternally towards Tilly very quickly because of that. Of course, she’s not his kid and he knows that, she’s his subordinate soldier and he forces himself to remember that and not soften his orders- but when they’re not on duty he’s noticeably sweeter with her than the others.

Then Avernus happens. The elite soldier originally responsible for overseeing Tilses as a new soldier is killed, leaving her floundering a bit— and so (unofficially) Zevlor takes over that role as her mentor. Because they’re in constant danger in the hells Tilly and another of the elites also take up the role as Zevlor’s body guards while he’s frantically trying to manage their forces in the face of more devils and imps than he ever thought any of them would ever face in their entire lifetimes. Their friendship deepens as a result, and they frequently fight by one another’s side, so they’re very in sync as well. Tilses very rapidly improves as a soldier because of all the combat experience, and very soon instead of just ‘the newbie’ she’s one of Zev’s most reliable swords.

Elturel eventually returns from Avernus, and… well, you know what happens. I feel like although Zevlor presents himself as resigned about it, I think he’s a lot more angry about getting exiled from his home city and the Hellriders than he lets on. Who wouldn’t be?! It’s just that he’s keeping it together for his fellow tiefling exiles, soldier and civilian alike. But the absolute disdain in his voice when he says to Tilses, “just Zevlor, Tilly. We’re civilians now, remember?” his voice was SO sour. That makes me think she’s one of the few people who get to see his true emotions (in moderation, anyway- he’s still very reserved even with friends- and he’s especially conscientious that she’s young and shouldn’t be shouldering the burdens of an older man). The way he actually filed his name and rank off his sword as well. He must have been both seething and upset as well as ashamed. What worse fate for a dedicated Hellrider, one whom has sworn to serve for life, to be kicked out?

As I put in a previous post, I think Tilses is greatly upset for herself, but even more so for Zevlor. He’s just this amazing person in her eyes, and he’s done so much for his people. How could this happen to him? She really struggles to accept it- refuses to even try at first, because it’s so wrong. It’s only when Zevlor himself snaps and tells her to stop calling him commander that the reality sinks in. And it’s awful.

Jumping ahead a bit, Tilly is both the person most absolutely heartbroken over Zevlor’s ‘betrayal’, and also the first one who decides there must have been more to it than met the eye. She’d track him down in Baldurs Gate (she survives, she definitely survives, nothing bad happened to her la la la can’t hear you) if he didn’t show, and before he can say a word she gives him the most crushing hug and tells him how much she missed him while trying not to cry. Zevlor does cry and breaks down in apologies, but she’s having none of it. She has a similar heart to him, so can guess the shame and grief he must be feeling. She reassures him, it wasn’t his fault, he’s still worthy, and he always will be in her eyes (maybe followed up with a little— platonic, very platonic— kiss on the cheek as well).

Does she fight in the final fight against the Brain…? Hmmmm I’m not sure. I can see Zevlor ordering her to stay behind because he’s terrified of losing her, but I doubt she’d take that lying down. Yeah, nah, if Zevlor is called into the battle, my girl is joining in that fight whether he gives his approval or not.

Because I like happy endings, they both survive the fight and after… they move in together. Why not? Whatever remaining blood family they had they probably lost in Avernus or along the road, and they’re both hurting and understand each other’s wounds. Zevlor would get a cottage on the outskirts of the city I think, away from the crowds, but close enough for Tilly to walk in for her job in the City Watch. He retires, and spends his time growing their own food and reading and just in general trying to process everything that’s happened. They live relatively simply, so the money from Tilses’ job is plenty to support them.

Tav probably visits them both quite frequently, which is when a romance sparks if you’re into that. Tilly would tease Zevlor about it constantly, but she’d be such a good wingwoman lol. She’s not letting the matter rest either until he confesses- or Tav beats him to it- and she’d be so proud when he does.

[russia-libertaire]

From social alienation to social purpose

"Many members of Russia's emerging educated elite found themselves alienated from the tsarist state as well as separated from most of Russian society by their education and their disdain for traditional values and relationships. [...] By formulating programs for social development which enabled them to play an integral part in overcoming Russia's poverty, oppressiveness, and backwardness, the intelligentsia provided itself with a social role that seemed to reintegrate it into society as spokesman, conscience, or guide. [...] Personal interest, social idealism, intellect, and cultural experience thus combined to produce in the intelligentsia a fervid, often self-sacrificing, and potentially authoritarian commitment to social transformation in accordance with an idea frequently carried to its logical extreme."

Michael Katz and William Wagner's introduction to What Is to Be Done?, by Nikolai Chernyshevsky

[berryhatfingers]

Okay, I just had a Jeremy backstory thought. I don’t think this is actually it, but I think it’s make an interesting fic at least.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell wasn’t repealed until 2011. Jeremy’s dad is a military man. If his dad is an officer, and the plan was for Jeremy to join as an officer after college, but then Jeremy brought a man as his date to the fall banquet? Very publicly barring himself from military service?

Also, that fall banquet happened in 2003. Fall banquets are usually in about September I think. So at approximately the second anniversary of 9/11 (reverse numbers of Jean and Neil, just saying) Jeremy very publicly makes himself barred from the military as a military man’s son.

There’s four years between Jeremy’s first banquet and TSC. That’s enough time for his parents to get divorced and his mom to remarry. Imagine if his refusal to call his step-father a paternal name or his uncle grandpa/etc is because his father disowned him. Like it could explain the “destroying the family,” why Annalise hates exy and why she’s never forgiven him, maybe Bryson is a homophobe or is himself joining the military…

Also, if he grew up a military kid, it would make sense he doesn’t view himself as the “pampered elite” that world is new and unfamiliar. Constantly moving, military housing and money, etc. plus depending on birth order it could have been a bigger thing in his life. Bryson is probably younger given he’s still at Yale, Annalise is named as younger, the other unnamed brother is a) in the military b) dead (from military service post-9/11, suicide, etc) c) younger but doesn’t come home during the summer, or d) a half brother on his dad’s side post-divorce (there’s other options but those are my mains for this path).

I really don’t think Nora’s gonna take it this direction but if someone writes a fic like this please let me know.

[stargazing-sapphire2]

Elias Walker II

Full Name: Elias Henry Walker II

Date of Birth: May 5th, 2028, Dover Air Force Base, Delaware

Nationality: American

Age: Newborn (2028), 2 years old (2030)

Family / Relatives:

David "Hesh" Walker (Father, Alive)

Elizabeth "Beth" Ashford (Mother, Alive)

Helena Walker (Younger sister, Alive)

Logan Walker (Paternal uncle, Alive)

Evangeline "Eva" Ashford (Maternal aunt, Alive)

Henry Ashford (Maternal grandfather, Alive)

Helena Rorke (Maternal grandmother, Deceased)

Elias "Scarecrow" Walker (Paternal grandfather, Deceased)

Katherine Walsh (Paternal grandmother, Deceased)

Gabriel Rorke (Maternal grand uncle, Alive)

Arabella Walker (Paternal 1st cousin once removed, Alive)

Thomas Merrick (Godfather, Alive)

Appearance:

*Hair color: Sandy blonde

*Eye color: Green

*Height: N/A

*Scars/Beauty marks/Blemishes: N/A

Basic information:

Elias was born on May 4th, 2028 in the remains of the Dover Air Base, to David Walker and Elizabeth Ashford; both members of the United States Army and the elite squadron Task Force STALKER, colloquially known as the Ghosts. He was named after both of his grandfathers, Elias T. Walker and Henry Ashford, the latter of whom is the current acting commander of the Ghosts after Elias Sr.'s death.

At the time of his birth, the United States was still at war with the Federation. Due to this and the disappearance and hunt for his uncle Logan, both of his parents could not spend as much time with him due to their duties, so he was often left in the care of his grandfather and aunt, although both Hesh and Beth spent as much time with their young son as they could. Despite this, the day of his birth was somewhat troubling for his mother, as it had been on the 17th anniversary of her own mother's death. However, this fact alone caused Beth to cling even tighter to her little son.

Elias is a quiet, yet curious little boy; always wanting to explore the world around him, although he can be quite rambunctious and mischievous as well. At a young age, he has no concept of death or the conflict his family and their friends are embroiled in, but all he is ever told is "Mommy and Daddy go out and fight the bad guys to keep you safe, but we love you more than anything". This allowed the boy to grow attached to his parents' hip, and he would always wait for them to come back in their absence.

[lunarry]

“You are the product of the Venezuelan elite, and you don’t understand the revolution.” A classmate said that to me during my first year of college in Maryland in 2021, during our Nonviolence and Liberation class. These comments, although not new to me, always stung. Each time I heard them, I was reminded that my perspective as a Venezuelan refugee didn’t align with the prevailing narrative in the room. It was as if my lived experiences didn’t matter if they didn’t fit the ideological frame of those around me.

Every day while walking through campus, I passed two posters with images of Chávez—one declaring, “The revolution will not be televised,” and the other “Que siga la revolución.” These posters, plastered on the walls of a liberal arts college in the United States, were a daily reminder of the ideological battles I was fighting alone. Despite my repeated efforts to have them removed, I was told they were protected by free speech and had educational value. While my peers saw them as symbols of resistance or anti-imperialism, I saw them as painful reminders of the suffering my family and I had endured. It became clear that many of the people around me were romanticizing a revolution that, in reality, had brought nothing but hardship to those it was meant to uplift.

I lacked a heavy accent, came from a college-educated, white-collar family, and was enrolled in a private liberal arts college. None of this fits their image of what a refugee is to be. 

To them, I wasn’t a person who had fled political persecution—I was a privileged outsider, speaking from a place of right-wing indoctrination. Every time I tried to share my experiences, my voice was dismissed, often with the suggestion that I had been brainwashed by anti-left propaganda. It was frustrating, especially having personally witnessed the devastation caused by a government that, while promoting the ideals of socialism and revolution, systematically dismantled democratic institutions and plunged millions into poverty.

Another vivid memory from my college days was when a professor casually remarked, “You shouldn’t really complain about the dining hall. Didn’t you grow up without food in Venezuela?” I was left speechless, exhausted from constantly having to explain the complexities behind my homeland’s collapse– complexities often dismissed by the oversimplified argument that U.S. sanctions were responsible for Venezuela’s shortages, migration crisis, and lack of necessities. However, I left Venezuela long before Trump’s 2019 sanctions, having lived through the 2014 crisis when market lines stretched for kilometers, medical supplies were scarce, and corruption was rampant at every level of government. Blaming U.S. policies alone for Venezuela’s downfall overlooked years of internal mismanagement and growing authoritarianism.

I often found myself in a lonely battle—not only educating my peers on the harsh realities on the ground but also challenging professors who romanticized revolution and liberation, views rooted in theory but far removed from lived experience. 

I chose my small college because of its active student organizing and political activism. However, my time at Goucher College was overshadowed by the reality that opinions not immediately aligned with the left or deviating from the narrative that “everything on the left is good” were often dismissed. I spent significant time and energy explaining and defending the reality I had left behind, sometimes making me question my experiences. I was disappointed and further isolated by the lack of openness or willingness to discuss the dictatorship, not just from my American peers but in general. The ideological rigidity I faced in college mirrored the fractured society I had left in Venezuela, where strict political adherence divided families and destroyed friendships. 

This experience extends beyond my college as prominent left-wing figures like Bernie Sanders have hesitated to outright condemn Maduro’s dictatorship while advocating for free elections. This reluctance reflects a broader struggle within left-leaning politicians to confront authoritarianism from ideologically sympathetic regimes. Many hesitate to denounce authoritarian actions within left-wing governments because doing so undermines their narratives of social justice, anti-imperialism, and equality. In Venezuela’s case, Chávez’s Bolivarian Revolution was initially seen as a hopeful alternative to neoliberalism and U.S. interventionism; as Maduro’s oppressive regime intensified, it challenged their belief that left-wing regimes inherently represent the people’s interests, complicating the narrative that right-wing governments are the sole oppressors.

Figures like Sanders, who have built their platforms on anti-imperialism and opposition to the U.S.-backed regime change, fear that taking too firm a position against Maduro could inadvertently lend support to interventions they oppose. 

This has led to a form of rhetorical tightrope walking—where there is a clear condemnation of the lack of democratic processes but a reluctance to call out Maduro’s government in the stark terms applied to other authoritarian regimes.

The Venezuelan crisis is not just about sanctions or foreign intervention; it’s a complex story of corruption, political repression, and economic collapse. And yet, many preferred to see it through the simplistic lens of an American-backed coup, as if Venezuelans themselves are incapable of recognizing the failures of their government. This dismissal of Venezuelans’ capacity to understand and navigate their own political and social realities is yet another manifestation of a form of paternalism that centers the U.S. in a narrative that is not, and should not be, about them. Revealing a deeply ingrained bias, where people from the Global South are viewed as passive actors in their own lives, reliant on external powers, particularly the U.S., to “correct” their course or provide solutions. 

At this new juncture in Venezuelan politics and history, the narrative of foreign interference continues to thrive. Protests organized by Venezuelan expatriates in major U.S. cities, calling attention to the electoral fraud committed by Maduro and his terror campaign as well as demanding recognition of Edmundo González as the rightful president-elect of Venezuela, are often met with American counter-protests. These counter-protesters, echoing Gonzalez ‘s victory a U.S. intervention, hold signs and chant old slogans like “Hands off Venezuela.”  The assumption that Venezuelans need Americans to define their struggles or guide their revolutions is rooted in a condescending worldview that strips them of their agency and dignity. The mass exodus of Venezuelans, now one of the largest migration crises in the Western Hemisphere, stands as a powerful testament to the disillusionment and despair caused by years of authoritarian rule, not external interference. Such narratives fail to acknowledge the intelligence and determination of those who continue to fight for a better future.

For Venezuelans, the reality of living under an authoritarian regime is not about political theory or ideological purity—it’s about survival.

My experiences in college made me steadfast in my resolve. I am Venezuelan; I lived through the horrors of the Chávez and Maduro regimes and I fled to the United States seeking a better life. While I acknowledge the privilege that allowed me to do so, that privilege neither erases nor minimizes my suffering, nor did it shield me from living in fear while in Venezuela. That I survived, along with the mental scars carried by myself and the 8 million Venezuelans in exile, are not up for debate.

It is my belief that when ideological loyalty surpasses empathy, humanity is lost. We cannot let political beliefs blind us to the suffering of others, especially when that suffering is happening so close to home. To dismiss it isn’t just a lack of compassion—it’s willful ignorance. And those who claim to understand “the revolution” better than those who lived through its devastation are not only out of touch—they’re complicit. Blinded by their arrogance, they refuse to see the truth, choosing self-righteousness over justice, and in doing so, they betray the very humanity they claim to defend.

[racefortheironthrone]

Warhammer Gaslamp: Imperial Society

(For the Introduction, see here)

The State

In many ways, the Empire of Man in 2725 IC is scarcely recognizable compared to the rickety feudal monarchy of the 2500s. While the Grand Provinces still exist on paper, the vectors of power have transformed radically. In exchange for generous subsidies from the central government, seats in the Imperial Parliament's House of Nobles, and other privileges, the Elector Counts and the provincial nobility have ceded much of their de facto independence - such that it is now provincial law that must be approved by the Emperor's Prime Estates in Altdorf for harmony with Parliamentary law and Imperial regulation, not the other way around.

While the electoral franchise has been gradually extended to all adult men with an income of 12 marks (one for each of Sigmar's tribes), as well as veterans of all income levels, the Imperial Parliament's power of legislation and the purse is balanced by the immense state capacity of the Imperial Bureaucracy. A massive civil service of some 2 million public sector workers who answer to the Emperor and his Chancellor (who also serves as the Chairman of the Council of Ministries) the Imperial Bureaucracy is fanatically meritocratic and even though the sons of the elite are disproportionally represented (especially in the top ranks), mere birth and privilege are not enough to succeed in government. Even the bluest of bloods must still pass the draconian Entrance Exams and follow those up with a strong record of Yearly Performance Assessments in order to survive the political knifefighting and rise through the ranks.

In addition to the General Staff of the Imperial Armed Forces, the Treasury Ministry, and the Ministry of Industry and Public Works, one of the most influential of the Ministries is the Health Ministry. Emerging out of a longstanding compromise between the Farmer-Artisan Party and the Patriotic Party, the Health Ministry is in charge of the Sozialversicherung Gemeinschaft, which provides modest old age, widows and orphans, disability, and kurzarbeit pensions to all citizens of the Empire...as long as they give yearly blood samples to the Imperial Plasmic Survey. The Survey tests tens of millions of samples for signs of epidemic, industrial, environmental diseases, and malnuitrition, which it uses to triage people into Imperial Hospitals and District Health Centers.

Secretly, the Imperial Plasmic Survey also tests citizens for were-Beastmanism and other forms of mutancy, and signs of vampirism and vampiric transfusion (and increasingly less commonly, unlicensed witchcraft). The Health Ministry then passes on the information of anyone who fails their tests to the Schwarzmänner - the secret police descended from the Ancient Initiatic and Holy Order of the Templars of Sigmar - who will hunt you down like the dog you are.

The only way for one of the "Untervolk" to escape the hunt is to flee into the sewers, subway tunnels, and ancient sub-sub-sub basement communities known as the Undercities, where they fight a desperate war for survival (and food) against the Skaven.

The Church(es)

In the last two hundred years, most of the Imperial Cults have fallen under the benevolent paternalism of the Church of Sigmar; while Morr, Verena, Shallya, Myrmidia, Taal, Rhya, Mananna, and the like are honored by those who have need of their services, their clergy are largely dependent on the Church of Sigmar for their financial livelihood.

As I have already mentioned, the Church of Sigmar is increasingly polarized between the Orthodox Volkmarites and Radical Hussites. Socially conservative and stronger in the north and west of the Empire, especially among the bourgeoisie, nobility, and larger farmers, the Orthodox Volkmarites believe strongly in obedience to authority. In their doctrine, Sigmar's Plan has predetermined for every person in the Empire their proper place on the Great Chain of Being, and Sigmar does not make mistakes.

By contrast, the Radical Hussites are stronger among workers, agricultural laborers, and small farmers in the south and east of the Empire. The Hussites believe that "the Strength of Sigmar is in the People," and that all believers stand equal in the ranks of His Army. Moreover, Hussites believe in "Strength Through Progress," that in order to be strong, the Empire must constantly reform itself to meet the crisis of the day. Proof of the righteousness of their beliefs is to be found in the Avatars of Sigmar, who are continually born into the world to serve as the Messiahs of the People, and show them the new path – Valten the Martyr being the most famous of these Avatars. Hussites await the coming of a New Avatar of Sigmar in the coming Time of the Comet.

While most of the conflict between Volkmarite and Hussite are carried out in pulpits and Church councils, both factions also recruit and sponsor Hammermen, the modern descendants of the Warrior Priests of old, who still carry two-handed warhammers as symbols of their faith, although they have long since traded red robes for long Army-surplus greatcoats. Among the common people, the Hammermen are seen as incorruptible tribunes who will see that justice is done in all those cases that the Reichspoletzei don't consider worth their time, but they are equally likely to turn their warhammers on their rivals.

In recent decades, the religious status quo has been violently disrupted by the Neo-Ulricanism of Nietzsche Zarathustein. Growing ever stronger in the North, especially around New Middenheim-Ulricberg, Neo-Ulricanism emphasizes the need for the individual to move beyond conventional social authority and become independent moral agents in the world by continually testing their strength against the darkness. As Zarathustein writes in Man unt Wulf-Man, “he who wars against the abyss shall never fall into the abyss.”

Institutions of Learning

In addition to the Imperial War Academy and the various State Universities, the Imperial University of Neüscience and Techno-Sorcery bears particular mention, as it is the institution whose Technomancers have given the Empire the upper hand in economic development and mechanized warfare. When the winds of the Aethyr shifted westward starting in 2594, gradually bypassing the Old World and drawn across the Great Sea to the "gulf stream" effect of the Vortex of Ulthuan, magic began to weaken on the Continent, even as a new breed of super-engineers began to produce inventions and discoveries once only possible through sorcery.

While initially denounced by the Colleges of Magic and rigorously investigated by the Schwarzmänner, the Technomancers were vindicated by the fact that repeated tests done by the Imperial Plasmic Survey demonstrated not even latent aptitudes for witchcraft. Under pressure from the Emperor and the General Staff, and with the strong patronage of the Monopolhauses, the Imperial Colleges of Magic, the University of Altdorf, the Nuln College of Engineering, the Imperial Gunnery School, and the University of Nuln were merged into the Imperial University of Neüscience and Techno-Sorcery (known better as the “Exploding University”), with rival campuses in Altdorf (specializing in theoretical neüscience) and Nuln (specializing in applied neüscience).

The common people of Altdorf and Nuln would be more outraged by the dangerously weird and weirdly dangerous experimental research perpetrated by the faculty and student body alike, if the University wasn't such a boon to the local construction, manufacturing, and sanitation industries. As it is, they only storm the campuses with torches and bricks when the University forgets to pay its parking tickets, or when the wrong team wins the University Blood Bowl Cup.