#happy slave myth

[former-leftist-jew]

@rassanharas also, can you please explain the Jaffa riots of 1921 and the Hebron Massacre of 1929 and the Farhud in Bagdad of 1941?

Furthermore, do you see any parallels between Uncle Tom and the Happy Dhimmi Myth: Re-imagining Subjugation in the Islamic World and the Antebellum South?

I cannot even begin to articulate how much I want every single person on Earth to see this

[just-an-enby-lemon]

If you are an "Odysseus deserves to be crying every day in Calypsos island for seven years." fuck you. No he didn't. Yes, Odysseus is a fucked up guy. No he didn't deserve that. Even if he wasn't my babygirl, pet liar, he would not have deserved that. I wouldn't have said that even to Theseus and I hate that bitch so fucking much. No one, no one, deserves to be a victim!

[monsterblogging]

"I know JK Rowing is a terrible person but her books are so good-"

You sure about that?

I mean, just for a start, have you taken a good look at her fantasy creatures lately? A whole bunch of them are straight-up based on malicious and dehumanizing stereotypes about actual people.

Remember the werewolves? And being a werewolf was made into a kind of metaphor for having AIDS?

And you know how AIDS was first associated with gay men? And how conservatives back in the day were claiming gay men were preying on children in order to convert them to gayness?

Remember how Fenrir Greyback preyed on children in particular? Yeah, she put that subtext in there. She was an adult in the 90's. She knew damn well what she was doing.

Remember the house elves? Remember how most of them loved to serve and needed to have a home and a master or else they just wouldn't know what to do with themselves?

Did you know that's literally what slavers in the American South said about the Black people they kept enslaved? Go look up the happy slave myth.

Do I even need to get into the goblins and the antisemitic tropes they're based on? No, folkloric goblins were not gold-hoarding bankers waiting for their chance to stab humanity in the back.

"But the characters are so good!"

Are you kidding me?

Most of her characters are pretty one-dimensional, including Harry. Her idea of making a morally complicated character is giving a tragic past to a bully. Numerous characters are little more than stereotypes. (Looking at Fleur right now.) Literally anybody, including you, can easily make dozens of characters just as good, if not better. (It doesn't exactly take a lot of character designing skill to go, "hey, actually, having a sad backstory doesn't make it okay to bully children" or "hey, maybe I should not base a character on the first stereotype that pops into my head.")

"But the rest of the worldbuilding!"

Sorry, but her worldbuilding is just as basic as her characters. Magical castles and secret passages are stock tropes. Magical people who keep their true nature secret from humanity is the premise of pretty much every White Wolf TTRPG. Most of her fantasy creatures are just common European fairy tale and folklore creatures with shitty stereotypes projected onto them.

I'm not saying "basic worldbuilding bad." I'm saying, you could do just as good, if not better, with minimal effort.

Also there's her magical bioessentialism, where only Harry's abusive blood relatives could provide him with supernatural protection from Voldemort. Rowling thus effectively declared that non-biological family isn't quite real family, and that abusive biofamily can give you some essential thing that a loving, supportive family that isn't related to you just can't.

The Hogwarts houses are one of the most insidious elements of her worldbuilding. The idea of being sorted gives you a little dopamine hit because wow now you have a li'l niche where you belong!

But the actual function of the houses and sorting system and the House Cup is teaching children to see each other as rivals, and ensure that the most toxic views of the upper class get passed on to every new batch of kids sorted into Slytherin.

Hogwarts effectively prepares children for a dystopia where magic serves to distract its citizens from how nightmarishly awful it is. Economic inequality is so bad that people like Arthur and Molly Weasley can barely afford to put their kids through school, casual sadism is just an accepted norm in everyday society, and non-humans are second class citizens. Rowling sorta acts like she thinks this is a bad thing with certain lines she gave to Dumbledore, but in the end, her special boy protagonist becomes an auror; IE, a defender of the status quo. So.

If you've never seen it, Lily Simpson's video goes into even more detail on how the worldbuilding of Harry Potter is actually incredibly fucked up, and how it betrays small-minded attitudes on Rowling's part. There's no separating the art from this artist, because Rowling's rotten values pour out of nearly every page.

Yes, there are many things in Harry Potter that evoke feelings and inspire people, but there's absolutely nothing in it that this series has a monopoly on. You can find those same experiences in much, much better media.

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 14 "A World in a Grain of Sand"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

A/N: Giving you the eyebrow 🤨 because no one seems to have picked up on a tiny, little, important detail that was to be found in the last chapter, or at least no one mentioned it 😌 Finally I can write what I really crave to write. IT'S SCIENCE TIME 💖

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Day 31

"I have one last question, little slave," Vladimir Harkonnen drones from his afloat position, a celestial body of massive dimensions in front of the somber backdrop of his throne room, black within black with only a single glow globe illuminating the back of him. He prefers to shun the black sun these days, as glorious as it may be, it brings out the myriad of spider veins beneath his frail, aged skin.

"Yes, Lord Baron?" The unremarkable slave's voice echoes from below.

"What is this… ancient piece of metal in my dear nephew's toy's room?"

"I believe you must know more about it than I do. I assume you had it examined before it was unloaded and brought inside?"

"Naturally!" Vladimir raises his voice. The slave with her bowed head can't see the way the aged Baron squints to get a clearer picture of her. Afloat as he is, she is little more than a splotch of white against black, and an unwelcomely blurry one.

The examination had revealed a human shaped mold, cushioned with gel pads, thick tubes for coolant, a recycling system with residue nutrient solution, solar panels for energy harvesting. No traces of radiation or explosives. It almost seems like the metal box is exactly what the sisterhood had made it out to be. A hibernation chamber for a fossil from another time. However, it wouldn't be the first myth created by the Bene Gesserit.

"I know you are looking for something substantial, my Lord, and so was I," the slave speaks after the Baron's elongated pause. "But I'm afraid the truth is as embarrassing as it is mundane. I've come to believe that she keeps it close out of raw sentimentality. She's a sentimental creature, that woman."

Lilia has always loved danger and the long, twisted inkvine scar on her shoulder from girlhood days is just one proof of that. Perhaps that's why she so effortlessly serves the Baron velvet lies.

"Ah-h-h, like my Feyd-Rautha then. It doesn't surprise me," the Baron drawls, lungs expanding with a raspy heaviness to each intake of air.

In all his years as Giedi Prime's sovereign, Vladimir Harkonnen has never learned that the promise of a kind embrace outweighs the threat of violence tenfold and that a spark of human goodness can sway a servant's loyalty quicker than a snap of a whip.

"She calls it her sarcophagus," Lilia adds with a tiny scoff that doesn't go unnoticed by the Baron now that he has lowered himself and sinks back into the much more comfortable seat of his throne. The intimidation tactic has fulfilled its purpose.

He bellows. "So, she's got good humor too! A pity she's not a boy. I could have borrowed her sometimes."

The obedient set of Lilia's shoulders and her lowered gaze don't betray the noxious clench that has her stomach convulsing. Perhaps this is the only advantage of being a woman in the Harkonnen palace pyramid.

Day 45

The lack of color that had once bothered her into the throes of a slowly crawling depression is now a pleasure. The blackness of her abode has come to serve as the perfect desktop for columns of text and equations, formulations and simulations and hand-written notes that have her mouth moving and her eyeballs racing.

Her sarcophagus leeches the day's sun, side panels open to give way to rotating cooling fans. The Central Processing Unit of the computer that makes up half of the machinery inside buzzes from the strain she puts on it.

Astronaut M2-84 has finally come home and picked up the work of her own, chosen destiny.

Talking to God, Mikhail had whispered to his wife, is what the Lady is doing. But what she really does is think, read, calculate. Engineers born on the cusp of the astronautic age don't have their oily hands in tool boxes. Most of the time, they tell machines how to build other machines, and to do so, one needs to understand the laws of physics. 

This is how Feyd-Rautha finds her each night. Sometimes sunken against the cushions of her bed, or slumped over her desk, staring at the wall with dancing pupils. And other times, like tonight, she sits right by her Sarcophagus, shoulder pressed against the humming metal. She claims the connection between computer and chip is quicker this way.

Silently, Feyd's stride carries him across the room towards his precious engineer. Movement catches his attention at the right and the sight he finds causes a slow tilt of his head.

One quarter of her bed is filled out by a misshapen form, tucked under duvet and whalefur. Glugo lies prone on its stomach, limbs folded tightly against its covered body. Only one front arm-leg peaks out and cradles her plushie against its innocent pug face. Something glossy-white with small handles on each side is held in front of Glugo's mouth by tiny face-hands with liquid sloshing inside.

She has tucked Glugo in like a toddler. And, from the looks of it, she has printed it a sippy cup.

Feyd-Rautha feels all sorts of warmth filling out his chest. If because he wants to be tucked in like a toddler, or because his only friend is finally receiving the gentleness it deserves, or because of a different reason entirely, he can't tell. He raises his hand to wave at Glugo who gurgles softly in return, one tiny face-hand unlatching from the cup handle to wave back.

Glug glug glug.

"You're losing weight." Feyd approaches his beloved slowly. "I don't like it."

"One second, I'm at ninety-eight point five. Seven. Ninety-nine."

"Have you found out anything interesting today, my darling?"

He is long past asking what exactly she's doing, why they aren't simply figuring out a way to get his uncle to take his shield ring off so they can get a blade between his ribs. Or rather a sword, to pierce the obscene, fatty flesh costume he calls his body.

"Your spice—" His darling slurs with a concerning jump to her pupils.

"I don't take spice anymore." Feyd tilts his head and squats down before her, lifting his hands to cup her cheeks.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Ah, wait, what do you mean, not anymore?" Finally, her eyes regain focus and her arms fill with tension, fingers moving up to encircle Feyd-Rautha's strong wrists.

"There's my darling," he smiles with pretty, full lips and glinting teeth, stroking her cheeks. "So, what about my spice?"

"Not your spice in particular." Her hand flings out to gesture at the universe above. "Your spice shares a few molecular compounds with the medication I took to prepare for the cryo sleep." 

Feyd-Rautha's features slip into disbelief, a fresh frown carving deep into the smooth expanse of his forehead.

"Why does this surprise you?" She wonders.

"Spice is unique to Arrakis. Power over the spice means power over everything. How could you have had spice back on Earth without sandworms?"

"First of all, spice, much like anything else, is just protons, electrons and neutrons. With the right tools, you could, in theory, synthesize any molecule."

"And you have such a tool in your Sarcophagus?" 

"No! God, no." She laughs out loud and curls her arms around Feyd-Rautha's shoulders in a much needed embrace. Her very eyeballs ache and her spine feels calcified from leaning against the sarcophagus.

To him, it must seem like the solution to just about anything might be hidden in her cryo pod or in her precious chip, but it really holds only a fragment of the technological advancements of Old Earth. The last generation before mankind had embarked to the stars was an ingenious one. They had to be, and their knowledge is safely tucked into the 80 Billion terabyte hard-drive of her supercomputer. She may not have all the tools, but the knowledge to build them — in theory.

She taps the top of the cryo pod and hums. "Building molecules from scratch is not like building houses out of toy blocks. You need to accumulate tremendous amounts of energy in a lab environment to trigger complex chemical reactions."

"You've already built a chair from scratch, and a gun. And now a sippy cup for Glugo?" He states with an incredulous rasp of his voice.

"I couldn't bear seeing it drink from dog bowls anymore. And it struggled so much with cups and glasses, Lilia had to change the sheets twice because the poor thing kept spilling everything."

"You… You are fascinating, my darling." She doesn't miss the spark of arousal that lets Feyd's eyes half disappear under a fan of long lashes. "My point still stands, you've built other things before."

"Yes, but the materials were already there, I just had them pressed into the shape I desired." Feyd tilts his head and she cradles his jaw, stroking across the plushnes of his cheeks. "Were you not taught about chemistry?" Slowly, he shakes his head. "Ah, well, I will explain it to you another time then."

Feyd slides his mouth into her palm, groaning softly. "You know so much. How is it possible that you had spice 24 millenia ago?"

"Not spice. I said my pre-cryo medication shares a few interesting enzymes with spice." She slides one palm around Feyd-Rautha's nape of the neck and softly brings their foreheads together. "My people also used to think their own civilization was the pinnacle of all that has ever been. It was unthinkable that maybe the Aztecs or Sumerians were more advanced. That's how you are too. 

   You think spice is unique to Arrakis and the technological advancements you have derived from the Holtzman effect are the peak of what is achievable, because it suits you so nicely. But human evolution has never been a linear incline. You have fascinating medicine, Gholas and space travel… But who knows, maybe my people were smarter than yours. Maybe our engineers and chemists were smarter."

"You know so much," he moans again and she knows better than to keep boring him with details. One day, when the many other fires in his heart have settled, she can stoke his interest in science. Feyd is smart. He will come to be fascinated by it. 

"This universe is devouring itself because there is no innovation," she softly murmurs. "No one dares to go further, look further, break out of the pattern. Maybe they don't want to, because the consequences scare them. Mentats only do as their Lords bid…"

When Feyd's lips close in on hers, with half-lidded eyes and a dreamy stare, her ramblings subside into grateful, blissful silence, choosing to welcome his tongue in her mouth instead.

Day 59

"Silence!"

The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam's voice ripples in the shape of a waveform pattern across the engineer's interface, recorded many decades ago by Baron Harkonnen himself and transferred to the House archive for research purposes.

Other lines of the same encounter, she is certain, were deliberately removed. Such as when the Reverend Mother, then a young woman, had ordered the Baron to hold still so she could mount him and steal the seed out of his body that would sire the Lady Jessica.

She only knows of this story because of Feyd-Rautha, and what it had cost him to learn it, she doesn't even want to know.

"Silence!"

She can only imagine that Piter de Vries' research on the matter might have consisted to a considerable amount of snide mockery, going by Feyd's recountings of the late mentat, hence why the files were so perfectly abandoned and ready for her to pick apart.

Carefully, she separates the impressive cluster of different wavelengths that make up the audio fragment, finding portions all the way from the high-frequency to the low-frequency audible spectrum, some even so low that they are no longer perceived as sound by the human ear.

The astronaut remembers how the Reverend Mother had tested her in an archaic show of deference, forced onto her knees with her hand in a box while the older woman addressed the pain receptors in her brain via an inaudible wavelength. She may not have moved her lips, but that doesn't mean she didn't cause the air molecules to oscillate.

Technically speaking, this renders the mysteriously omnipotent sisterhood into little more than ventriloquists. That image of demystification offers at least a little comfort to the humiliation provided by the memory of searing pain in every nerve.

She reclines in her chair, swallowing against the dry itch in her throat while she strings together a few fairly simple lines of code.

Curiously, the voice doesn't affect her physiology when played from an artificial source, such as the micro speaker soldered onto her chip's tiny board.

She can only assume that by manipulation of the larynx, wielders of the voice can propel pressure waves in a way that a speaker can not. How exactly this forces the human brain into submission, the engineer cannot tell, but she doesn't need to, to tinker on some offensively simple counter magic to the Bene Gesserit's seemingly almighty tool of control.

Noise cancellation is as simple as letting a speaker emit a sound wave with the same amplitude but an inverted phase. The sound waves cancel each other out in destructive interference.

As much as this scientific victory entices her, it frustrates her endlessly that all of the side research she picks up to take her mind off the real problem bears more fruit.

"Refreshments for you, my Lady!" Lilia's voice snaps her out of her brooding thoughts. The maid slips through the door, bringing a tray of fresh fruit and the stimulating citrus drink that her Lady has come to enjoy as of late. "It's been three hours, it's time to take a break."

"Ugh, three? Felt like one." That explains the dry throat. The relic arches her spine and presses her knuckles against her closed lids until tiny flashes prickle across the dark.

Lilia's footsteps close in at her side along with four other pairs of hand-feet. She sets the tray down on the desk.

"And have you made any progress today, my Lady?"

"Not with the one thing that matters, but yes." She reaches for the pitcher but finds her hands gently shooed away by Lilia who insists on pouring the glass for her, tiny bubbles fizzing in the lemon water.

"Oooh! Have you thought about these visions, my Lady?" The handmaid's ears perk up with interest, enamored with the story of how Feyd and her Lady had gotten to know each other in dreams ever since she had indulged her.

Lilia regards the phenomenon of their getting acquainted with the eyes of a romantic. For the engineer however, this is the only topic that frustrates her more than finding a workaround for the Holtzman effect to get past the Baron's shield.

"Dreams, visions, I don't fucking know. I don't even want to think about them because they drive me fucking crazy." The engineer reaches for her glass and drinks with big gulps, making the maid flinch by how forcefully she slams it back down.

The crescent shaped scar she herself had created on Feyd's clavicle when grappling for his blade is the same that had decorated his skin in their lucid dreams. So, visions? But the topics they had discussed during their shared nights are events of the past. It defies logic, it's paradox. The thing that scares her the most, however, is the fact that the Baron's abuse was still real in those dreams. If they truly were visions of the future, does that mean her research is in vain and he will live?

There is no phenomenon that can't be explained, not even prophetic dreams. But not by her, and not yet.

"Sorry," she apologizes and rubs her temples, finding Glugo staring at her with big, milky eyes, one hand-foot clinging to Lilia's skirt. The engineer's heart softens at once and she leans towards her insecure looking friend. "Aw, I'm really sorry, I didn't want to scare you both, my poor, little— Aw!"

Glugo curls four out of its eight limbs around her calves and rests its chin on her knee, pearly eyes aimed unerringly at the pitcher of sparkling drink on the desk.

"That's citrus," she explains. "I don't think you'll like citrus…"

One of the Tleilaxu creature's oily-black hand-feet clutches the table's edge, another incessantly reaches for the glass container.

"Okay, fine, but just a tiny sip. Where's your cup?"

Glugo glugs cluelessly, looking at Lilia for help. Still, both women are uncertain if the being has any grasp on human language, or if it simply recognizes a question by the inflection of one's voice. 

The handmaid locates Glugo's cup in the folds of the duvet and quickly washes out the remnants of pink liquid over the sink in the bath before filling a finger of citrus inside. The creature's hand-feet tippy-tap on the tiles, reaching for the shiny container to take its first curious gulp.

Glugo's pug face puckers into a scrunched up grimace at once, face-hands releasing the sippy cup with an indignant noise.

Glurgh!

Day 93

It is a few weeks later, while Feyd and Mikhail are out brawling, that she figures it out.

"M'lord, I really am sorry," Mikhail laments, his flesh stripped of color as the black sun roars down on his bare torso. The na-Baron and he are prowling around each other in a tight circle, unarmed aside from their fists.

"You told me already." Feyd-Rautha's grating voice cuts through the sweltering air. The training ring's roof is retracted, giving way to blazing white skies and a heat that Giedi Prime's life forms have adapted to. "Five times. Another time, and I might just cut out your tongue."

"Ya know I had to take yer Lady to them bath chambers. Baron commanded it, and I can't just—" 

"Shut up, boy!" Feyd's boots crunch in the sandy gravel, shoulders rolling. He is stronger than Mikhail, rounded arms and pectorals contrasting a powerful, slender waist. The guard's physique is more wiry, taut muscles stretched across visible ribs. The glorious sun brings out an overabundance of gray scars.

"Boy, eh? Ain't any older than you, my Lord!" Feyd is surprised, tilting his head at the deceptive edges of the guard's features that make him look closer to 40.

"Fine, then shut up, brother!" Feyd bares his teeth and clenches his fists hard, veins rippling across his forearms. "What are the rules?" 

Mikhail's fist springs forward and punches Feyd-Rautha in the guts. He nearly doubles over, groaning in pain. Spit drips from his open mouth into the sand. 

"Rules?" The guard quips and aims his elbow for the na-Baron's nose. Feyd dodges with a semi-graceful dive to the side, taking the blow to his ear instead. He tastes blood on his tongue.

This man is bold. He has no manners. Feyd likes him. 

Mikhail is smaller, thinner, but he fights like a mongrel, like someone whose ferocious survival instincts have carried him from across the svart valta all the way to the royal palace in Barony. And Feyd struggles.

And by the black sun, he loses. Few things have ever excited him so much. After nearly an hour of grappling in the scorching heat, Feyd-Rautha finds himself on his back in the gravel, panting for dear life, ears ringing from the last punch square across his jaw. He barely hears Mikhail's voice when he praises that he had fought well, but he feels the brotherly smack on his sandy chest, right on top of a wicked bruise.

Every bone and muscle burns when he drags himself to his personal bath chambers. It was, undoubtedly, the best fight of Feyd-Rautha's life.

"Lilia! I've got it! I fucking got it, do you see this?!"

Pixelated particles give way to a bullet that cuts through them like a harpoon through water.

"What, my Lady? See what?" The maid dashes into the bedroom from the antechamber with flying skirts.

"It's so simple, I'm so stupid." The relic has jumped up from the desk, fingers twisted like claws around the back of her chair while her chest heaves with laughter and a threat of tears. Lilia, of course, cannot see the baffling results of the simulation on the engineer's interface.

The Lady lurches over to the cryo pod, leaving the tilted chair swaying and falling down on the tiles with a bang. She mutters something along the lines of 'must build it', before her voice dissolves into foreign, ancient tongues and a shiver runs down Lilia's spine. Her voice so alien, her ways so enigmatic, she truly is a relic cracked open, pouring her forbidden knowledge into the world. 

But she is also a human and Lilia feels her Lady's voice and shaking body teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown as she snaps open several compartments of the sarcophagus.

"You figured it out, that's wonderful!" This barely gets the engineer's attention, so she curls her fingers around the woman's shoulder, gently forcing her away from the compartments. The relic slumps down with her back to the sarcophagus.

"I need to build it. I know there's laser diodes in there, I only need to—"

"Please, my Lady, you need to breathe deeply. Why don't you explain it to me first?" Lilia squats in front of her, holding her wrists in her warm hands. Her Lady is trembling, her breath too shallow and fast.

"It's so simple, I could build it in an hour."

"Please, do me the favor," Lilia insists and brackets the woman's trembling knees between her own. Finally, her Lady exhales a long sigh and lets her head sink against the humming metal.

"Alright," she agrees and starts with a jittery voice. "So, you're aware of what the Holtzman effect is?"

"Ah, yes, I think so?" The maid hadn't really known the term before her Lady had started rambling about it. "Shields and heighliners?"

The one discovery that has shaped the entire human universe and kept it shackled since then, and the average commoner barely even knows its name. The relic doesn't hold it against Lilia. In a world where “eat or be eaten” takes on a literal meaning, the last thing to worry about is science. So, she wills her voice into calmness. If she's going to try and explain it, she at least wants to do it well.

"The Holtzman effect is responsible for the four major technologies that have made the world into what it is today. The first one — shields. No fast-moving object can pass through a shield, so guns like these?" She points towards her nightstand. "They've been useless for millennia. That's why you've resorted to close combat weapons."

"I was wondering why you went for a gun and not a blade." Lilia tilts her head. Close combat weapons are all that she's ever personally encountered. She knows that lasguns exist and that each Great House has an arsenal of atomic warheads, but every soldier has a sword on their hip, not a gun.

"Melee weapons seem so…" The engineer struggles to find a corresponding word in Galach. "Medieval to me. Archaic. Warfare on Earth was nothing like this."

"What was it like?" Lilia whispers in awe, noticing her Lady's shaking abate second by second.

"You could obliterate entire cities within the blink of an eye. A million different ways to set a home on fire and kill a population from a thousand miles away. It was terrible." Which is why what she has discovered is just as terrible.

The relic continues. "The other three technologies derived from the Holtzman effect are suspensors, glowglobes and space travel. You know why I was in that metal coffin here?" She taps against the sarcophagus. "Because a journey within our own solar system would take several years. You however can travel to the other side of the universe within the blink of an eye, through a quantum tunnel."

Lilia has never left the planet, but to imagine trade and travel without space-folding almost strikes her as ridiculous. All of humanity, reduced to just one, single planet. The cradle of mankind. The thought humbles her.

"And all four of these are based on one single effect?" Lilia considers herself an intelligent woman, but she doubts she can understand what took her Lady weeks to figure out.

"The essence of the Holtzman effect lies in how subatomic particles interact with each other."

"Subatomic?"

"Any type of matter is made of smaller building blocks. This metal for example is made of all kinds of molecules, which are made of atoms, and every single atom is made of protons, electrons and neutrons. These are called subatomic particles. Protons and neutrons make up the nucleus of an atom, and you can imagine the electrons orbiting the nucleus almost like planets a sun."

The handmaid quite enjoys that mental image. It's like the smallest particles exist in a cosmos of their own. "So, the Holtzman effect has something to do with protons, electrons and neutrons?" Lilia imagines, if she could have gone to school like she wanted as a girl, it may have been something like this.

"Almost. It gets even smaller. Protons and neutrons are made of quarks, tiniest quantities that cannot be divided any further. I could go into more detail and talk about quantum physics," the relic pronounces a word that is just guttural enough for Lilia to imitate without all too many struggles. "But that won't be necessary for now."

Even though her Lady has stopped shaking, Lilia doesn't want to release her wrists yet. She is glued to the engineer's lips, soaking up what sounds like forbidden knowledge, like having a peek through God's microscope.

"What is a Holtzman shield made of? What do you think?" The engineer wraps her own fingers around Lilia's slender wrists and the maid sinks from squatting on her soles to sitting down on her bum, stretching out her legs on either side of her Lady's.

"I don't know, my Lady. Uh, something that repels?"

"Yes, that's right," she nods encouragingly. "There are several forces in the universe that attract and repel. The most well-known force of attraction is gravity. And electro-magnetism— Opposite poles attract, equal poles repel each other. But there are other forces that work on a subatomic level."

The engineer pauses without urging her and Lilia takes a moment to think.

"I'm guessing there's a subatomic force that keeps these, uh, nuclei together? The protons and neutrons? Because if not, everything would just be falling apart?"

It almost frightens her to imagine what her very own body must look like on its deepest level. A cluster of tiniest quantities, held together by forces as invisible as her Lady's interface.

"That's perfectly true!" The woman from Old Earth beams, fingers clenching around Lilia's wrists. "The force responsible for that is called the strong nuclear force. On an even smaller scale, the strong force holds together the quarks that make up the neutrons and protons, but you already said it just right."

Warmth fills out the handmaid's chest and she slowly begins to understand the feeling that had her Lady nearly panicking earlier. Her own heart drums against her ribs quick and hard.

"Okay, so now what about the Holtzman shield and how can you get past it?"

"For that, we also need to take the other subatomic force into consideration. It's called the weak force. Isn't that creative? Despite its name, the weak force is technically stronger than gravity, but it is only effective at very short distances and it can change one quark type into another. What do you think happens when such a change occurs?"

"Hmmm," the Harkonnen woman ponders. She doesn't want to disappoint her Lady who is putting so much effort into her explanation. "If quarks are the smallest quantities that make up anything, I suppose when something changes on the lowest level, this change translates to the highest level as well?"

"You're a natural, Lilia." Upon that, the maid blushes purple and finally releases the relic's wrist in a sudden burst of shyness. "Such a change can turn one element into another. It happens all the time, in every sun. And also in radioactive decay. This is important."

"How so?"

"Imagine if that radioactive decay was amplified. Imagine throwing a huge amount of energy at a substance that is already sporadically decaying. Imagine a whole chain reaction of it. This is what triggers a nuclear explosion, the kind that obliterates an entire city."

Lilia's eyes grow wide with understanding. "So, that's why, when you shoot a lasgun at a Holtzman shield, it triggers a nuclear explosion?"

"That's right. I believe shields are made up of nuclei and rely on both the strong and the weak force to repel incoming objects on a subatomic level."

"All of that was fascinating, but how does it help us get past the shield?" Suddenly it's us, not you. Lilia has clutched the fabric of the relic's trousers over the knees in both of her fists. What the engineer's poor Feyd-Rautha currently lacks in fascination, Lilia makes up for a hundredfold.

"Oh, that was just the prelude." The engineer's lips twist into an almost mischievous little grin. "It's just what I need to take into consideration, so I don't accidentally blow up the shield and the city instead of passing through it."

"Just the prelude? My Lady, I think I'll go insane if you don't get to the point!"

The relic bursts out laughing. "We're almost done, I promise! Imagine you're riding in a groundcar and next to you drives another one with the exact same speed. When you look at it, it seems like you're both standing still, because the relative speed between both cars is zero." Lilia nods and the engineer smiles knowingly. "Now imagine you're a bullet and you want to pass through a Holtzman shield which only allows slow-moving objects to pass."

"Then I'd need the shield particles to move in the same direction as I do, only a tad slower, so that my relative speed is like that of a slow blade."

"Congratulations, you've just figured out how to trick a Holtzman shield."

"That is absolutely genius, my Lady."

"No, it's actually so simple." The woman shakes her head. "The difficult part is how to put the shield particles into motion, but I've figured something out." She summons the pixelated particles that are only for herself to see once more, nuclei that make up a Holtzman shield, accelerated by a burst of calibrated laser light, and how they give way to a bullet that cuts through them like a harpoon through water.

"Now I only need to build a proper gun," the engineer concludes.

Lilia has never cared much about the rest of the universe, and the universe has never cared much about her. Why would she care if her Lady, who has always been good to her, sets everything on fire?

When the door to Feyd-Rautha's personal bath chamber rushes open, he knows it can only be his darling, because the scanner only recognizes her handprint when he is inside.

The na-Baron is submerged to the jaw in oily-black liquid to soothe his bruises, a diluted version, heavily scented with the essence of exotic fruit and spices. He cannot breathe the unadulterated variant without gnawing memories of horror.

Her hectic footfalls cause him to spin around in the tub with worry, but before he can even utter a greeting, he finds his woman sagging down on her knees in front of him and his face captured in her palms.

"I've found a way!" She sobs.

"You've found a way?"

Tears spill down her cheeks as she nods, bringing her forehead against his. She's found a way. To kill the Baron and destroy the universe.

She is so elated, her joy could make a star rotate, it could set the world on fire. She kisses Feyd hard on the lips, melting against the wet expanse of his chest when he embraces her in his strong arms. His muscles break into tremors just like hers had an hour ago. 

All of her doubts have flown away like comets in the sky of a fiery dawn.

"Feyd-Rautha, would you be my husband?"

To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour

— Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

A/N: Pretty much none of the physical concepts mentioned are made up. I've tried to use real physics to offer explanations for Frank Herbert's fantastical inventions that make the Dune universe so unique.

I'm not even close to the level of genius that I admire in my favorite sci-fi authors, but all of this was so insanely much fun to come up with. I have more ramblings about space travel, suspenders and glowglobes, but they weren't really necessary for this chapter. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. I'm very proud ❤️

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst

[schraubd]

The Holocaust Was Not Summer School; Slavery Was Not Trade School.

Someone -- I can't find who -- once said, in relation to claims that Jews had "failed to the learn the lessons of Auschwitz", that "the Holocaust was not summer school."

The retort there was in relation to claims that Jews had not imbibed the correct moral sentiments following our genocide. But I was reminded of it upon hearing the recent defenses of Florida's "anti-woke" efforts to whitewash slavery by lauding the "skills" slaves allegedly acquired -- apologias which, unsurprisingly, have spilled over to Holocaust minimization as well.

Fox News star Greg Gutfeld, whose latest book debuted on Tuesday, is currently under fire over his recent observation that Jewish people “had to be useful” in order to survive concentration camps, prompting the Auschwitz Museum to rebuke his comments as an “oversimplification” of the Holocaust. 

[....] 

During Monday’s broadcast of Fox News’ The Five, which both Watters and Gutfeld co-host, the panel raged against Vice President Kamala Harris’ condemnation of the Florida curriculum as racist. Watters, for instance, blasted the veep for not wanting “African-Americans and white Americans to know that Black Americans did learn skills despite being enslaved.”

The heated discussion, however, took an uncomfortable turn when lone liberal panelist Jessica Tarlov drew a parallel between slavery and the Holocaust, wondering if Florida schools would also teach that Jewish people received some benefits from the Nazis systematically murdering them in death camps.

Gutfeld, referencing a famous book by Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl, took Tarlov’s challenge and ran with it.

“Did you ever read Man’s Search for Meaning?” Gutfeld wondered. “Vik Frankl talks about how you had to survive in a concentration camp by having skills. You had to be useful. Utility! Utility kept you alive!”

The slide from "anti-CRT" to Holocaust trivialization is nothing new, of course. And here in particular we have one of those moments where an ounce of truth helps generate a ton of falsehood. It is true that, comparatively speaking, a Jewish inmate who had skills that happened to be useful for the Nazi war effort (or otherwise coveted by the local commander) was more likely to survive. Likewise, it's true that having enough wealth to pay for bribes actuarially increased one's life span compared to the destitute. It is not true that "utility kept you alive" (a phrase that is eerily adaptive of arbeit macht frei). Plenty of people with "utility" were murdered by the Nazis. It is not true that having money insulated Jews from the Nazis. Plenty of Jews with means were nonetheless rounded up and slaughtered. The relationship of "utility" to the Jewish experience in the camps was not one of moxie and grit overcoming incredible odds; anymore than the relationship of wealth was one of frugality and financial stewardship steering one to safety. There is no favor done to the oppressed that they can sometimes leverage opportunities to resist.

But again, this is the inevitable byproduct of the anti-woke panic. The obsession with never speaking forthrightly and honestly about oppression and discrimination -- always viewing it as a "both sides" initiative -- means one has to find ways to render Nazism, if not benign, then at least filed down. Others have written about the gentile obsession with telling feel-good Holocaust stories where plucky protagonists show their wiles and skills to secure a happy ending. This is a myth that non-Jews need to tell themselves to evade reckoning with the Holocaust in its full horror; the Holocaust did not come with happy endings.

And the same is true of slavery. Slavery was not a somewhat-unsavorily-run trade school. It was a form of White supremacist oppression. Trying to find the "happy endings" is an attempt to avoid reckoning with its horrors. And the thing is, if we actually took seriously the "nobody should be made to feel guilty based on the color of their skin" pablum, there'd be no quarrel with teaching the history in its full terrible glory. Learning of the horrors of slavery doesn't and shouldn't make White people feel guilty. The guilt comes from learning those facts and then wanting to carry on as before -- no change in affect, no change in politics, as if it never happened. The dissonance between the historical knowledge and the desire to pretend as if the history didn't happen or didn't matter -- that's what creates the guilt. But that's guilt based on one's own choices, and history class needn't and shouldn't have an interest in absolving you of that.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/LJUWduZ

[katerinaaqu]

I’m nodding along with your posts cause the thunder saga ending just didn’t sit well with me at all. I feel like once again Odysseus is being characterized as a villain and a totally ruthless, selfish person when that’s just NOT who he is in the Homeric myths. I really enjoyed the start of the musical and I admire Jay’s talent for making music. But it’s missing Odysseus’ character by a long shot and it’s missing the heart of the Odyssey

It wouldn't be the first time. Many post-homeric sources depicted Odysseus as an amoral bastard who would sell anything and anyone to achieve his goals. For instance post-homeric sources have HIM instead of the will of the gods be the one to orchestrate the sacrifice of Iphigenia and leading her to the altar.

Unfortunately Odysseus seems like free game to be turned into the villain of the story since antiquity. And that is because his methods were going against what ancient Greeks considered honorable (aka direct fight) so they strifed to use Odysseus as an example of what one shouldn't be doing plus many who created anti-war plays like Eurypedes wanted Odysseus as the symbol of anything going under the table in a war. Basically the shady aspects of war. In a way it made sense in antiquity even if it was overplayed.

Romans were also divided but many depicted Odysseus as the absolute villain because he is the taker of Troy. The ancient Roman progenitor is Aeneas who runs away from Troy after the massacre. In a way Odysseus is portrayed as the villain by the romans because he took their mythological ancestral city.

However indeed what bothers me is that this musical was not supposed to be some rewrite of Odysseus's persona. It was supposed to be an adaptation from HOMER'S Odyssey and homeric Odysseus is in my opinion the most solid Odysseus. He is not a goodie guy of course. He has tons of flaws and he made many gray decisions but he was still the hero. Not the lowkey villain. He was incredibly loyal to his friends and crew and didn't abandon them before any danger.

The Musical I think ruined his potential. Not just the thunder saga but almost everything from the end of Storm till now. Odysseus does not speak his name to Polyphemus out of his fatigue anger and insult after a week of seclusion and torture. He speaks it out of spite because he just lost his friend (that same friend that was killed off for the sakes of dramatics given that Polites is mentioned only once in the homeric poems and that is on Circe's island), he doesn't sell himself to Circe to save his men apparently no price needed to be paid. He didn't remain a slave for one year close to her. He doesn't get strikes by guilt by ACTUALLY talking to his mother in the underworld or by fear by talking to Achilles or by doubt by talking to Agamemnon. He gets zero definitive answers from Tiresias. He gets no advice from Circe he gets not his experience with Sirens. He didn't gear up to protec his men from Skylla even if Circe told him not to because she was immortal and there would be no point...

Why would anyone claim that they make an adaptation if they do not follow literally anything from the plot?

I absolutely agree. I got my hopes way too high at Troy saga because I loved the way he actually used the Iliou Persis half-saved phrase and turned it into an amazing dilemma. Those first songs were amazing and spoke volumes for the characters. However the more we move in the more disappointed I get.

Yes I still feel happy that a fellow artist shows such passion over music and how he started everything by himself and all but now I feel like he just seeks to change everything from the original and I fail to see why...why must this potential masterpiece be turned into yet another "loosely based on" thing like every typical mainstream Hollywood film? I think my expectation at first increased my disappointment now.

Quite frankly I got a glimpse of Calypso too and they seem they want to turn the story of the poor man practically being raped for 7 years and held prisoner into a bubbly romcom...seriously no...

[dalishious]

Hi Lydia-Marc!

I want to reach out to you because of something you posted. Usually when I reach out like this, I get blocked, I’m hoping you’ll be willing to listen.

You said that “Zionism is a colonial movement that supports building an ethno-national state for Jewish people on top of Palestine, by any means necessary.” And then linked to Al Jazeera as proof.

I want to start by pointing out that Al Jazeera is the state media of Qatar, a nation that in its state approved textbooks teaches that the Protocols of the Elders of Zion (a debunked soviet antisemitic conspiracy theory) are true, as well as teaching that Jews are evil, and that the holocaust isn’t real/the holocaust was actually a Jewish plot to further their nefarious goals (https://efile.fara.gov/docs/3492-Informational-Materials-20200917-70.pdf). I am asking that you acknowledge that if that is what’s in state run textbooks, then the state media outlet might also be biased against Jews.

What you state Zionism is sound more like Kahanism (https://imeu.org/article/fact-sheet-meir-kahane-the-extremist-kahanist-movement ), a movement that most Jews (and most Jews – about 80-90% depending on the survey – are Zionist) thoroughly denounce. The founder and his political party were actually banned from participating in the Israeli government because most Jews found the movement so disgusting.

Zionism is actually a land back movement that supports self-determination for Jews in their ancestral homeland. (https://www.britannica.com/topic/Zionism ) A lot of leftists have decided to try to change the definition of the word into something more like what you said, but it’s a Jewish word to describe a Jewish movement, and non-Jews don’t get to define our words for us.

Applying a colonizer/colonized lens to the area is not really useful, but if you must, then please recognize that we have archeological evidence of Jews in the southern Levant going back over 3000 years (https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/28/opinion/jewish-history-israel.html ), genetic evidence that even the whitest looking Ashkenazi Jews have middle eastern genetic markers (https://www.pnas.org/doi/full/10.1073/pnas.100115997 ), and written evidence from Rome talking about the Jews living in the area. In fact, we have maps showing that the area that is now called Palestine, used to be called Iudea (https://www.worldhistory.org/image/269/map-of-the-roman-empire-in-125-ce/ ) prior to Rome conquering the area, extracting its wealth, and taking the native, Jewish, population as slaves back to the empire (https://www.worldhistory.org/The_Bar-Kochba_Revolt/ , https://www.britannica.com/event/Siege-of-Jerusalem-70 ). The people who identify as Palestinian are the descendants of the people who filled the void left by Rome’s abduction of the Jews, and the descendants of the actual colonizers from the Arabian peninsula who showed up hundreds of years after the majority of Jews had already been evicted. The area has been colonized repeatedly, just not the way you claim.

I, personally, as a Zionist, am in favor of a two state solution, and I know many other Zionists that feel the same way. Palestinians have been living on the land a long time, and should have a state, but there is no denying that the area is the Jewish homeland, and they should be allowed a state of their own as well. It is frustrating to see so many people decide that self-determination (a human right!) is something that should be denied to the Jews, simply because they were conquered so long ago that everyone considers the colonizer’s presence to be “normal.” Apparently, somewhere along the line, Jewish indigeneity expired.

I hope you’re still reading this. I hope you’re willing to listen. If you have any questions, or want to discuss this further, I’m happy to talk.

Anyway,

[siremasterlawrence]

Celebrity Lottery Stable - Part 1

The Winning Lottery Ticket is a myth a share change, a simple awesome gamble that no one has yet to win and once a loud knock is coming through the door alerting Chris Rob Evans leaves his wife in the bed as he slips out quietly heading down the staircase in a haze of early morning fatigue. His toe tips over as he fell on to his knees in a frantic bit of pain as it soars trying to hold his lips tight, he avoids screaming as he is ready managing to get up from the step as he hit the floor and reaches for his robe at the end of the staircase he left laying on the knob on the end of the staircase last night slipping it on. He grabs the door knob twisting it open to the side as the man stands in the door way with utter confusion as he is lost the man suddenly starts to smirk and digs his hand in his pocket as slips it into his hand then he turns disappearing into the night as he shook his head. He flips about slamming the door as he feels the slip sinking in his hand the world falls fading into the back of the room as everything seems to lose meaning and his eyes dart down to look at the envelope as he rips it open a load of confetti hits him. All of a sudden his eyes roll back into his eyes sockets closing tight, his body grows heavy causing his tumble to the door awaking his wife as he calls for him then dashes to the ground level and picks up his head vanishing him from her life.

“Congratulations Mr. Evans!”

“What the shit?”

“Do you know where you are?”

“I am at home! Right?”

“Correct! This is your new home”

“Where is the man of the hour?”

“Can you tell me anything?”

“My mind is clear”

“Go on!”

“I have no memories”

“Yes! Guide me please”

“Enter the room, strip and put these clothes on.”

“Yes! Where is Master?”

“Sit down on the bed and wait like a good boi “

“Oh! Please tell him to hurry “

“It will take as long as it takes “

“Okay sir!”

“Can you hear us over the speaker?”

“Yes Sir! Has Master arrived?”

“Greet him appropriately “

“Yes Sir!”

“Oh My Fucking God!”

“Slave! ATTENTION!”

“Sorry Master! Master Lawrence “

“Speak boi”

“You are my every last word”

“My life and breath “

“Give me a purpose and reason to live “

Chris hands him the lottery ticket with love and with lust as he smiles so happy with utter love in his eyes because is totally ina enamored state of bliss calling to me with his arms and wide open his hands wrapping over his waist on to me tightly as he hugs me effortlessly he lifts me up into the air. The locks of the doors shut down closing the whole room entirely aseverything in this life ceases to no longer matter because all he can do is focusing on me and placing me back down by the wall he moves in closer giving me a kiss.My hand cups his chin spinning him about to the wall as I press my body onto his in love kissing him slowly as his mind, body and his soul giving into me as he became a feverish pitch to keep my attention he will do anything for me. Ignoring him aka I am able to brush past him only for his hand to land on my arm fighting to keep him with me always and I can’t deny him that as I am leading him back to the couch where he lay his hands all over me begging to be used.I clapped his hands loudly as the lights are turning of into a pitch of darkness with a faint light overtaking the room a shadowy cast of darkness fills the room as all that can be seen is him worshipping me allnight.

“Ooooohhhhh!”

“Oooohhhh Master!”

“Fuck!”

“I am under your thrall for all eternity “

“Chris?”

“Yes Master”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

The end

[divineintervention-comics]

When did you first read the myth of Ganymede? And why did you chose to make a comic for this myth?

its a long and convoluted story but im happy to share. in 2015, i was in middle school, i made horror character designs based on the zodiac signs and those later became OCs (i have never read homestuck, everything i know about it was forced upon me by my friends in school). i used the myths as backstories for the characters when they are living constellations. i wanted to make a RPG and they were stars that fell to earth when the gods got too caught up in their bullshit and neglected humanity and the earth and now they have to save the world.

i was immediately attached to Aquarius (who is now Ganymede), he was always an androgynous perpetually dissociated character even before i knew the backstory. i was a teenager myself at this point when i really got into it, and i found the Zeus and Ganymede myth to be disturbing since i was his age. it stuck with me, to the point where i struggled to find the other constellations myths less compelling.

i dont know how to code and didnt know how to make games, i already felt like i was losing it bc its been in production hell since i was 12 and i was 17 at the time. i felt like before i make the game, i should make backstory comics for ALL 12 CHARACTERS (how i thought i would be able to do that when i only cared about 2-3 of the characters in the series who knows). i couldnt stop thinking about Ganymede, i couldnt stop thinking about a story where he is a character and not just an object in the narrative.

in 2020-2021, i made my first draft beta version, it wasnt called "Cupbearers", it was "Divine Intervention: Cupbearer". i just found the myth so compelling in a "i need to make a horror story out of this" way, i needed to cope with my own fears of kidnapping, sexual abuse, human trafficking, loss of bodily autonomy, transformations, immortality, and being stuck through this myth inspired comic.

Ganymede, even as Aquarius, has always been a cathartic character for me, both as a 12 year old and now as a 21 year old. i grow up but he is cursed with immortality, cursed with eternal youth, the world keeps moving on and he will never be able to catch up. stuck in the same spot, never moving forward, never moving backwards, just stuck working for the man who stole his life until the end of time, eternal punishment viewed as a gift by those who bestowed it upon him. how could you be so ungrateful? we gave you a gift. we took you away from everything you've ever known, we've taken away ownership of your body, we've turned you into a beast like us, being tortured by me is a gift, it is a privilege that i chose you, you ungrateful meat-thing.

but he is just a kid, i want to protect him, i want to draw him having fun, i want to draw him enjoying a good meal, i want to see him find any comfort in the horror that is immortality. he's only a kid. just a baby, barely even though puberty, his brain isnt done developing, he had a future, he could have grown up and chose his own life. i think about that a lot.

i just generally have a lot of thoughts, everything i write and draw for this project has a point, it has a purpose, its not just needless suffering i dont write despair. (some zeus x ganymede shipper vagueposted about cupbearers being needless wallowing without purpose bc i dont write fluff fics between a grown man and his child slave)

i really appreciate this ask!!! thanks for asking me about my thought process, i have so much going on in my head and i need to get it out somehow

[addictedtowords16]

I love memories. They are our ballads, our personal foundation myths. But I must acknowledge that memory can be cruel if left unchallenged.  Memory is often our only connection to who we used to be. Memories are fossils, the bones left by dead versions of ourselves. More potently, our minds are a hungry audience, craving only the peaks and valleys of experience. The bland erodes, leaving behind the distinctive bits to be remembered again and again.  Painful or passionate, surreal or sublime, we cherish those little rocks of peak experience, polishing them with the ever-smoothing touch of recycled proxy living. In so doing— like pagans praying to a sculpted mud figure— we make of our memories the gods which judge our current lives.  I love this. Memory may not be the heart of what makes us human, but it’s at least a vital organ. Nevertheless, we must take care not to let the bliss of the present fade when compared to supposedly better days. We’re happy, sure, but were we more happy then? If we let it, memory can make shadows of the now, as nothing can match the buttressed legends of our past.  I think about this a great deal, for it is my job to sell legends. Package them, commodify them. For a small price, I’ll let you share my memories—which I solemnly promise are real, or will be as long as you agree not to cut them too deeply.  Do not let memory chase you. Take the advice of one who has dissected the beast, then rebuilt it with a more fearsome face— which I then used to charm a few extra coins out of an inebriated audience. Enjoy memories, yes, but don’t be a slave to who you wish you once had been.  Those memories aren’t alive. You are.

Tress of the Emerald Sea

[hypergamiss]

I have the opposite situation. Im 25 and I feel like a teenager because I haven’t hit major milestones yet. I struggled with mental health issues and that really held me back. I know the only way out is through and I’m sure once i get my degree and get a good job ilk feel better about my situation. It’s just so hard to not spiral into self pity and negativity. Do you have any advice on how to stay positive and motivated?

I hope that your journey with your mental health issues is in a better place! Working on those will definitely help you move forward with your life. I think most people don't realize that 25-year-olds are actually still teenagers. I didn't stop growing or developing until I was 25, our prefrontal cortex is barely developed at that age too you know? Even men tend to have their last growth spurts at this age. I honestly think that you shouldn't put that much pressure on yourself in your 20s. As long as you are working towards improving every day, things are bound to work out. You have this idea in your mind that you will be happy once you get the degree and the job. You're in for a lot of disappointment if you think you'll be happy then. It would be best to find happiness in the present moment because you will be chasing something that you will never find otherwise. After you get your degree and job, life gets really boring if that's all you identify yourself with and slave away. Experiment and find out what your passions are (we all have multiple) and immerse yourself in them. The only pressure you should put on yourself is to improve what you can control. As far as staying motivated, motivation is a myth. There is only discipline. Here is an amazing book that I recommend to really understand what it takes to achieve your goals through discipline and understanding that motivation is a temporary feeling. Don't forget that small wins are still wins and that you deserve to celebrate yourself through all the smaller milestones as well.

[uselessheretic]

but also bouncing off of this with ed, racialized masculinity, and rage (and i'm using that term specifically and for a reason) one of the other parts i think is fascinating is the way that rage is dangerous. not to an individual but to the oppressive structures surrounding us.

moc and anger is something that has always been policed and their image in media has to be crafted to fit a specific ideal. i'm taking a look at this through the lens of a biracial african-american, but if you look at the history of how black men are depicted in media you see a stark change occur upon the abolition of slavery. during slavery, the image of enslaved people that was promoted were those of a happy and content group of people. they were infantalized and portrayed as child-like and mentally deficient. you can see gone with the wind as an example of "the happy slave" myth. there's a great teen vogue article you can read if you wanna see more about the myth and how it relates to current pop culture. you can also read more about caricatures and the way they're still normalized currently with mascots of aunt jemima and uncle ben in this op-ed. but like all caricatures, they serve a purpose and fulfill a need of white supremacy. when it came to the happy slave, it was to push the idea that black people were content in slavery, that slavery was a civilizing process that was actually white people helping them, and that the only kind of work black people were capable of is physical labor, that any other kind would make them unhappy.

you can see similarities actually with the way māori men are spoken about and locating their use to physicality. when māori schools (in traditional western sense) were first opened, māori students scored just as well as the european lead schools. white people actually literally forced them to change their curriculum to be labor based completely because anything else was thought of as too complex for their simple minds or some bullshit like that. there's a great paper by brendan hokowhitu "The Death of Koro Paka: “Traditional” Mäori Patriarchy" that goes in depth about the white supremacist fetishization of māori physical labor.

in the same way that māori school curriculums were changed, the happy slave myth was a way for white supremacy to maintain a status quo that naturalized using poc for hard labor while patting themselves on the back for doing them a favor. for a long period of time in america, black rage and anger was erased. it was hidden from white eyes to shield them from having to face the reality of their brutalization. this is why frederick douglass was so revolutionary, btw. he pulled back the curtain on the myth, showing these caricatures as the shadow puppets they were, forcing white people to look at the brutality they were inflicting on real human beings.

the abolition of slavery changed this image. it's like it underwent a PR campaign overnight (which it kinda did) where suddenly pictures of slaves singing with huge grins were replaced with the image of animalistic, out of control, absolutely furious black men. part of this was from a white paranoia projecting their anxiety that black people will come at them for revenge from slavery. but the main reason for this was because of a caveat in abolition that still allowed slavery in the case of incarceration. (the 13th is a documentary on netflix that goes in depth on this!) you can't say that you're enslaving people because they like it and it makes them happy anymore, so what do you do? you change that narrative. it's not to keep them safe, it's to keep you safe especially your women safe. jim crow laws are rolled out, black men in the south are either incarcerated or lynched (the great migration from the south was fleeing white terrorism!) the myth of the angry, violent, savage negro takes form.

the point i'm making related to ed, beyond the history lesson, is related to that idea of white fear of moc's anger. when we talk about the anger of moc, we don't erase it. that's already happened before, and it was used against us. instead we lean into the idea of what makes white people so fucking shook at the idea of an angry moc.

a huge part of this that i think is very relevant to ed is the need for the state to control him. piracy is disruptive as fuck. a huge portion of pirates were ex-navy who left because they no longer wanted to put up with how fucking shitty the navy is to their men (no, it wasn't for radical reasons 😭) piracy also had a large amount of black people fleeing slavery too! one of the reasons black pirates were so scared of capture was because unlike their white counterparts, they wouldn't be hanged, they'd be brought to plantations. if you want to read an interesting article about piracy and race i'd suggest this one! it's untrue to say that piracy was an aracial utopia, but the history of it is complex and fascinating. (fun fact, blackbeard actually gets cited sometimes as one of the pirate ships that were a lot more equitable with race where the famous pirate black ceasar served upon his ship. this does not mean blackbeard wasn't horrifically racist. he still sold slaves and raped black women. do not mistake this for him being an antiracist legend)

pirates were able to operate outside of state control and this was terrifying. at times, they would work with the navy, also a fun fact. hornigold is famous for attacking spanish ships and leaving the british ones alone, meaning england just kinda looked the other way lmao.

but for ed (the character) i think this is what grants blackbeard so much power in a way that just plain old edward teach would never be able to harness. all the way up the chain, blackbeard is feared, and blackbeard is respected. the mere chance that blackbeard would be willing to take an act of grace and concede that power to the king is so lucrative that even an admirals subordinates are willing to go against him for it. to have blackbeard under english control is the greatest propaganda anyone could've offered them.

i think i said this yesterday, but as a powerless child being told that he can't have fine things, that's just how it is, it can feel like your only two options are either anger or despair. ed chose anger, and by doing so, ed chose survival. he can despair over his surroundings or he can get angry, say fuck this, join a pirate ship, and go ham. he can despair over his mother's abuse, or he can get angry. angry that she's treated like this. angry that his father is so cruel. angry that there is nobody who is willing to help them. angry enough to kill your father. not because ed is, at his core, a violent person, but because, at his core, he's a loving one who will kill off a part of himself if it means keeping his mother safe. ("when you kill, you die as well.")

and not just anger, but rage? it's powerful. it's the natural conclusion for having even the slightest awareness of your circumstances as a moc, and it's in the states best interests to quell that as much as possible. not to be like "malcolm x said" but also malcolm x said "Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change." and i think there's something to that with ed, where he's trying to change the circumstances of his life to no longer be a nobody. that anger has served him well over the last few decades, his path has scorched a legacy, but it's also burned him out on the way. something stede offers to him alongside retirement is the possibility that he may be able to let that go. doesn't have to hold onto that anger anymore and wield it like a weapon. maybe love can be enough?

and in this case, it doesn't work out for him. there's many reasons why, but a big one is that ed hasn't yet done the introspection necessary to move forward. he struggles with acknowledging his past (he frequently forgets his acts of cruelty) and although he may be ready to let that go, it's not so easy. it clings to him. also why i think izzy's role is so important and not just black and white villainy. what he and izzy had worked. for decades it served them both well. but now it doesn't anymore and ed wants to let that go, but it isn't that easy to sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened. izzy is his reminder of that, good and bad.

i mentioned malcolm x earlier, and it feels worth it to bring up how much a disservice history does to his legacy where he's painted as angry with no other nuance. they called him the angriest negro in america. there's also a fascinating legacy within the black male community of attempting to claim him for black masculinity at the expense of others, but malcolm x was also a loving husband and father, and a huge proponent for self-love. his love was complex, and it was only after he began to start making connections globally and start advocating for a more nuanced approach of black radical politics that he was assassinated.

ed is angry, and in that anger is power, but it's also exhausting. he wasn't wrong that love and vulnerability is something that will heal him, but he also hadn't yet done the work of examining his own internalized self-hatred, despair, loneliness, and anger. he's not going to have a fairytale ending where stede swoops in and rescues him from the evils of piracy, but will need to dig deeper into his emotional roots and connect with that same complexity of love that figures like malcolm x embodied.

this will probably look different for ed though since there are māori practices specific to that self journey of healing. Te Whare Tapa Whā is a model of health and wellbeing that takes a holistic māori and indigenous approach to health that positions five tenets as necessary for one's health.

i don't feel like i can do it justice summarizing it since it's focused on five culture specific concepts, but here's a neat link!

this is something i try to keep in mind when writing ed and his healing. even if i'm not naming the model specifically, i think it's great to check back in on "is ed getting these five needs?"

i would highly recommend reading more about māori approaches to mental and physical health where the trauma of colonization is something that is brought to the forefront of needing to be addressed to heal. not only that, but how strong a backlash this receives from white groups because acknowledging that pain and history is dangerous to white supremacy.

but ed's relationship to emotion is something i really love about the show. rage and anger threatens the control of the british empire. it wreaks havoc across the seas and makes a mockery of their power. with ed though, when he's able to take control over the navy and for a brief moment becomes the most powerful person on that naval ship, is the act of grace. an action born from his love of another person. it feels so? hopeful and kind. and it wouldn't hit as hard if there weren't those moments of pain. after all, ed's desire for softness becomes all the more meaningful when we know he's use to only being treated roughly. that contrast is what keeps us feeling.

[writingamongther0ses]

Happy STS! What are your favorite scenes from your WIPs? (and if you would like share some lines <3)

So my Greek myth wip is based on the need to do Percy Jackson better since there's a lot of stuff that I'm noticing now that I'm re-reading and older. One of these things is Camp Jupiter and New Rome, because it's kinda weird that they cosplay as ancient Romans when Camp Half-Blood doesn't do that. So I wrote an explanation and I really need to re-write this so it's less exposition.

Part down below:

"Did anyone tell you why the sons of Kronos made that pact to not have any more children?"

Megara shook his head. Honestly, it had barely ever been mentioned before. He was pretty sure some people complained about accepting him since he was a pact-breaking child, but those complaints had never been a big deal. "Didn't it happen after the Civil War? I only heard about it because camp got set up right after the pact."

R.K. nodded. "Yeah. I never knew the story until Hermes told me about it, but apparently the seeds happened when Poseidon was made mortal and forced to be a slave for King Laomedon. Hermes told me that, when he returned, he hated slavery."

"Because the sea didn't like to be restrained." It was why Rome never sailed.

"I mean, yeah, but he had also made friends out of fellow slaves and watched them die. Hermes said that he made big changes when he returned and started targeting slave ships. Most of the mermaid population is made of slaves who jumped overboard."

Megara hummed. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah. Father doesn't talk about it much. When talk of getting rid of slavery started up, his kids followed his lead and became abolitionists, even became conductors on the Underground Railroad." She sighed, staring at the sea. "One of them was a woman named Caroline."

"Oh?"

"She was born free. Her grandmother wasn't. She started talking to other demigods, convincing them to help. A slave owner named Felix Wilson, a son of Zeus, heard about her."

Oh. Oh no. He knew that name.

"He got worried about what would happen if every demigod in the United States at the time were allied against slavery." Megara could imagine it. There probably hadn't been that many demigods in the country at the time, but he could imagine the effects. "When the Confederacy broke away, Felix and some of his friends tracked down Caroline." R.K. looked away from the sea, upwards, and Megara followed her eyes. "There's apparently ways to make children of Poseidon drown, if you're determined enough."

Clouds floated by, and Megara gulped. His fingers tingled, just like whenever he manipulated clouds.

"Felix fled to California, and Uncle made sure Father couldn't attack him there." R.K. sighed, resting her chin on the railing, eyes locked on the endless blue that her sister had died in years ago. "His friends killed a good portion of any children of Poseidon and Hades, since they worked together, they could find. When the war was over, Father and Uncle H demanded Uncle never have another child again, because his son had killed so many of their kids." R.K.'s neutral expression twisted into a frown. "He agreed, but said since they were too attached, that they also had to agree."

"He founded the camp," Megara said, interrupting her. "He founded the camp, but he wasn't very popular. Apparently, someone pushed him off a cliff after a year of him leading, but Jupiter pitched a fit when they tried to change the rules."

[iwanttobepersephone]

Rant about Harry Potter and JK Rowling, stick with me here

Ok, so, I hate JK Rowling. I feel like that's a given, right? Like, she's a transphobic homophobic bigot who hides behind feminism and routinely denies massive parts of the holocaust, and I despise her in ways that I don't think words can even express. I can't stand her, but y'know what I also can't stand?

When someone implies that my mother, who is one of the most supportive people I know, and a massive part of the founding, organization, and actions of a local group made specifically to fight Moms for Liberty and school boards in our area trying to harm trans and queer people, is transphobic because she likes Harry Potter

Wanna know why my mom likes Harry Potter? Because when she discovered the series at 12 years old, she quite literally lived in a cupboard under the stairs and was in an abusive household. The magic of the wizarding world or whatever was her escape, it's the reason she's still alive, and by extension, the reason I was ever alive.

But, sometimes, not even often, when I try to express even the most minimal amount of appreciation of that, someone says to me "but isn't JK Rowling transphobic? Why would you support someone like that? Are you transphobic?"

Which pisses me off beyond belief, as one might imagine

In this situation, "separate the art from the artist" isn't exactly a good phrase to use, given the fact that the goblins or whatever run the bank are Jewish stereotypes and the house elves generally being happy to work under their masters being a straight rip from the whole happy slave myth, and those are very very important things to recognize and understand, among others

I feel like it's a lot closer to "separate the hundreds if not thousands of lives she's helped from the hundreds if not thousands of lives she's ruined", or even better, understand that the good she's indirectly done for people makes all the bad that much more horrid

My mother is the closest thing to a hero in this entire world and I will not stand to hear one more person accuse her of being transphobic purely because she thinks fondly of a book series that saved her life. I will not stand for people saying she's just as bad as a holocaust denier because she owns every book in the series. I will not stand for anyone going entirely against their point of not judging a group as if it's monolithic by saying all Harry Potter fans are bad people, including my mother. And, once again, it's not often at all that this happens, but it happens and I'm pissed about it and needed to rant

Anyways rant over JK Rowling sucks don't believe a single thing she says and don't support her unless you wanna support someone actively trying to make the existence of queer people illegal

[omgthatdress]

In the books, Nellie was an Irish-American servant girl that Samantha befriends and teaches to read. Because Samantha is nine and has had a fairly sheltered upbringing, she doesn’t quite have the understandings of class structure that separates her and Nellie, she just sees a friend. Nellie opens Samantha’s eyes to the broader world beyond Grandmary’s mansion and helps her understand the social issues facing turn-of-the century America.

In Changes for Samantha, Grandmary has finally married Admiral Archibald Beemis, and Samantha has gone to live with Uncle Gard and Cornelia in New York City. There, she finds out that Nellie’s parents have died and she is living with her uncle Mike in the city. Samantha sets out to find her, only to find that she’s been abandoned and is living in an orphanage. Eventually, she helps Nellie and her sisters escape, and they come to be adopted by Uncle Gard and Cornelia.

I always thought that felt like an unreasonably happy ending for Nellie, given her social inferiority and that adoption was actually fairly taboo in the era of social darwinism and eugenics, but I also know that rich White progressives of the era LOVED doing shit like that, so I guess it’s not completely unreasonable.

Reading the summary of the book Nellie’s Promise made me sooooooo fucking happy. It gets into all those issues of social inequality and gives Nellie a lot more agency in being more than just a lucky orphan. I especially loved the parts about how Nellie was unhappy going to Samantha’s private girl’s school where she was learning nothing practical and only being trained in how to be a rich society wife. Nellie knew she needed a practical education so that she’d be able to secure a job in the future and fulfill her promise of taking care of her sisters. In the end, she’s able to enroll in a vocational school that fits her needs. I love it. I love it so fucking much.

Before I go any further, I should probably just go ahead and say that in this era, the Irish were still very much considered White. The definition of Whiteness in the 1900s was very different from what it is today (plz read The History of White People by Nell Irvin), and some people were Whiter than others, but the Irish were White. White*, if you will. They would be listed as White on all their legal documents, and weren’t faced with segregation the way that Black people were. The Irish were never slaves (they sure as shit were slave owners, though!) and don’t ever fucking compare anti-Irish discrimination to anti-Blackness and anti-Semitism. They are all their own unique things and playing the oppression olympics does no one any good. And YES I know about the history of the colonization of Ireland by England and anti-Irish attitudes in the UK, but I’m talking about American history. Anti-Irish American history and Anti-Irish British history are very, very different.

There’s a lot of raging ongoing debate about the extent to which the Irish were discriminated against in the US, and yes, there was discrimination. But literally EVERY immigrant group in the US faced discrimination and even violence. There’s a lot of academic debate about the whole “No Irish Need Apply” thing, but it was like that for EVERYONE. Italians, Poles, Greeks, Germans, Swedes, you name it, immigrants in general were all treated as unwelcome and less-than by the Anglo-Saxon Protestant powers that be at some point, the Irish were just another part of that. The idea that the Irish were somehow unique or special in their discrimination in America is a myth.

The point I’m making is that a lot of conservative Irish-Americans LOVE to make big maudlin claims of Irish victimhood and Irish slavery (THE IRISH WERE NEVER SLAVES) that somehow means they’re somehow exempt from having White privilege and taking personal responsibility to not be a racist fuck. That is pure bullshit, Irish-Americans have been White as fuck ever since JFK.

ANYWAY. All that being said, I love Nellie’s little outfit. It’s actually super accurate! A lovely little summer dress, perfect for visiting the ice cream parlor!

(The Museum of London, credit @in-pleasant-company​)

Again, like with Samantha, the hat should be more perched on the hair and held in place with hat pins rather than fitted to the head. But that’s probably beyond your average 7-year-old’s patience, so I guess I can give them a pass.

[babyrdie]

Just me giving my opinion

Thinking about how there are other female characters who are exactly what some people want for Andromeda.

Guys, if you want a story where a parent offends gods and this causes their innocent young daughter to be sacrificed to a sea monster and a foreign hero kills the monster and after that she gets married in foreign lands without having the possibility of rejecting it…Hesione exists. Pseudo-Apollodorus talks about this, if you want a quick read of the myth.

Like, why make Perseus an abuser of Andromeda if Telamon and Hesione exist and the myth is super similar. Hesione was literally given as a prize to Telamon and we know that she wasn't in a good position in Salamis, since Teucer (son of Hesiond and Telamon) receives the treatment of a bastard son who isn't worth as much as a legitimate son (Big Ajax). In Euripides' Helen and according to the scholia of Lycophron's Alexandra (search Ad Lycophronem to see the scholia), Teucer is even banished from Salamis for being blamed for the death of Ajax. In fact, this ironically even matches a fragment from Euripides' lost play entitled Andromeda about not having bastard children because, even though they are just as worthy as legitimate children, they will never be treated the same.

Likewise, if you want the story of a parent who offended a deity and this caused the deity to punish not only this parent, but the people they led, and the punishment could only be avoided by the sacrifice of the innocent daughter and the innocent daughter volunteered to be sacrificed…we have Iphigenia!

There is no point in making Andromeda a heroine who sacrifices herself for the sake of the people, who are in trouble because one of her parents offended the deities. She is practically never shown accepting to be sacrificed. On the other hand, Iphigenia is shown volunteering because she sees it as a form of heroic patriotism. Iphigenia even EXPLICITLY refuses help from Achilles and Clytemnestra in Iphigenia at Aulis, while Andromeda in Euripides' lost play offers to be Perseus' slave, servant or wife if he will save her. That's how desperate she was, she even preferred the possibility of being SLAVED. Andromeda isn't shown seeing the sacrifice as heroic patriotism. She is even chained and left naked, while Iphigenia says that one of the reasons for offering herself is precisely because she doesn't want to be forcibly sacrificed in an undignified manner. Even Polyxena (a non-patriotic exemple) in Hecuba was sacrificed in a manner she considered dignified, and Polyxena even prefers to die rather than be enslaved and thus refuse help from Hecuba. The opposite of Andromeda, who would rather be enslaved than devoured.

Sure, Andromeda, Hesione, Iphigenia, and Polyxena are all tragic in the sacrifices premise, but they're clearly different. Polyxena and Iphigenia both reject help, but part of Iphigenia's reason is that she sees it as a heroic act while Polyxena sees it as a way to avoid the horrible fate of being enslaved. It's not the same thing, part of Iphigenia's speech is precisely about how Trojans are slaves while Greeks are free. As if one of Iphigenia's arguments was precisely that the Trojans should be in situations like the one Polyxena is trying to escape. Hesione and Andromeda don't reject help, but one has a horrible ending while the other has a happy ending. Not the same thing, and this is even reflected in their children. Can you imagine Andromeda's children being belittled the way Teucer was by Agamemnon in Sophocles' Ajax?

Yes, clearly Polyxena's sacrifice is a reference to Iphigenia's, and the same with Hesione and Andromeda…but I still don't think they're identical. Making the context of them all the same seems like such a tedious decision, in my opinion. But I dunno, this entire post is just my opinion.