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menlove · 1 day ago

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queer paul tome pt 1: everything not related to john

okay i've been saying i'd make this post forever and it's uh. long. so i decided to split it up into four parts so i can get this first bit out and let it stop haunting me and so it's not 50 miles long.

feel free to add your own if it's not here or shoot me an ask and i'll add it :)

disclaimer: i'm not definitively saying sir paul mccartney is queer. i mean i really firmly think he is but it's all just speculation. also, if he is, there's obviously a reason he's not out about it & he deserves to have his privacy respected. i just personally find the dominant narrative in the fandom & even in larger spaces that poor pining queer john was in love with tragically heterosexual paul completely unconvincing and neeeeeed to be insane for a minute here

if this pisses u off u can simply scroll on by i do not need an essay in my notes. make your own post if you disagree.

(paul doing this for whatever reason in beverly hills, 1974- also the same trip he saw john on bc sure i guess)

this doesn't include lyrics as the main argument bc i saw a post ages ago basically saying there's nothing outside of them and lowkey i took that as a challenge because there's SO much outside of his lyrics that point to him being queer.

that being SAID, this is going to be split into four posts: not john related (most important and thus first bc there's so much documented about mclennon & john being queer, but not paul by himself), john related, paul's relationships w other men (these ones aren't all like... concrete and that's why they aren't included here but w all the context that'll come before it his relationships to certain men are..... interesting), and finally lyrics last bc some of them you genuinely can't just ignore

part 2- john related part 3- other men part 4- lyrics (those will have links once i actually make them)

also, i'm sure people have made similar posts before- i haven't seen them (other than this one an anon sent while i was writing this up which is sooo interesting but does have a lot of dead links) but if you have one you want to share feel free!

time to get into it. i'm avoiding homework by doing this.

(sidenote: not including instances of him just flirting w men bc body language can be read a lot of different ways- but if y'all wanna add any i know they're a dime a dozen like w george m., mal, random reporters, robert fraser, etc)

1- "Just kidding, Linda..."

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REPORTER: You're a very, very good looking man. PAUL: [sits up straighter, making a sort of campy gesture towards the crowd, turning into a point] Get that boy's name. [Drops his hand, smiling and leaning his cheek on his hand.] Just kidding, Linda. REPORTER: [unintelligible] PAUL: What? REPORTER: I said- do you have a secret, looking so nice for fifty years? PAUL: [grins, resting his chin on his hand again and batting his eyelashes] Yes, it's the drugs, you know.

(originally posted on here by @northernsongspeels who hasn't been active in a while) this one is so crazy to me. he's so obviously flirting with that man and he's apologizing to linda for flirting with that man. like it's a conversation they've had before.

2- "Yes, boys."

tumblr

this video (originally posted by @ilovedig here)

PAUL: Yes, I think the main difference is that when you are that age- which I'm sure you remember, Tom- TOM: It's back there in the dim distant past, yes. PAUL: When you're that age, that's the kind of thing to do. I mean, what you're doing is you're going 'round and you're basically looking for girls or whatever turns you on and stuff. So, uh, yeah, I- TOM: Well- well could you give me the alternatives to girls? Are there others? LINDA: [scoffs] PAUL: Yes, boys. TOM: Oh! No.

3- "He's so good looking."

Paul McCartney first read the name and saw the photo (for weeks there was just one crazy photo of Elvis available in Britain) during a free period at Liverpool Institute. Again, it was a friend with the NME, and there was an advert for Heartbreak Hotel. "I thought, 'He's so good looking,'" Paul says, "he just looked perfect." Mark Lewisohn, All These Years Vol. 1 Tune In, sourced from the Anthology TV series by Lewisohn.

4- "A Nice Person Girl"

this fun little interview... (originally posted by @amoralto idk why the archive.org capture of it looks funky but the audio is still there) take it w a grain of salt bc it can also just read as a homophobic joke but like.

August 22nd, 1966 (Warwick Hotel, New York): As DJ “Cousin Brucie” Morrow conducts brief interviews with each of the Beatles, one by one, he asks Paul to settle the rumours that have been circulating in the press about the status of his relationship with Jane Asher. MORROW: Moving over here to Paul – someone just handed me a card. I guess this is… [focusing] Last year, when you were on my microphone here— PAUL: Ask me something about Rick Sklar. MORROW: Rick Sklar? That’s my boss. JOHN: Ask Paul about Rick Sklar. MORROW: Uh, Paul, last year when you were on my microphone, I think somebody – one of your staff – announced an engagement of you and Jane. PAUL: Uh… MORROW: Do you remember that? It was announced on the air. And then I remember we said something on the air and then thousands of people from the street went, “Oh.” What is it with you and Jane now? How – what is your relationship? Are you planning a marriage, planning an engagement, are you just boyfriend and girlfriend, what is it? Tell us the whole thing. JOHN: [mutters; inaudible] PAUL: Uh. We’re just queer, that’s the scene. [uproarious laughter in background] That’s the scene. Well I mean, I couldn’t say that on the air live, you know. JOHN: No, you’ll get into trouble for it. PAUL: No, the thing is, Cousin Bruce – um, we haven’t got plans to marry yet, you know. That’s the point. And that business about somebody saying we were engaged, nobody actually said it. It was just another one of those things where someone says, “Are they engaged?” and they said, “Well, whatever it is… [muttering]” “Yes, folks, they’re engaged!” And it wasn’t true. MORROW: Well, I’m sure there are a lot of girls who are very happy with this. What would you look for, in a girl? Say you did eventually want to settle down, what would you want to – what kind of girl would you like? What would you – what would you like in a gal you wanted to marry eventually, bring home to Mommy? PAUL: Uh… Female hormones. MORROW: Female. What’ll you go for, any – what, blonde, brunette, what? PAUL: Uh, you know, anything. Anything. Girls. It doesn’t matter if they’re blonde, brunette, or anything, as long as they’ve got it. MORROW: Would you want a nice person – what? A beautiful nice person girl. PAUL: Yeah, you know. A nice person girl. (transcription directly from @amoralto, bold mine)

and again this one COULD just be a lil homophobic joke but idk man his tone here is very different and the fact that he says he couldn't say that on air & john says he'll get in trouble is just. interesting. it's Interesting.

5- "A 26 year old queer never to get married."

Half an hour later it was very quiet, except for a few sobs, and then we decided that we had to see him just once more. We opened the gates and walked slowly in. Someone rang the doorbell. Waited, no one came, rang again. Rang again. Paul answered. We just stood there. God what do we say? "Yes, what do you want?" he said, as if we'd just come to borrow sugar. C. ran out. Someone asked if it was tomorrow, and he said, "Tomorrow." It went quiet again. "What's this - Heartbreak Hotel? What do you think I am a 26 year old queer never to get married? Oh, stick around kids!" We just looked at each other. Oh God, Paul, what have we done now. All we wanted to do was stand there and talk awhile. What was the point in shouting at us like that? We stood there, tears falling but there was no sound. "Apple Scruffs Come to Dinner" by Andrew Bailey, 1970 (x), bold mine

again, like the last one, this one is very... i think he was absolutely being homophobic here, but it's a very telling outburst. like he's yelling this harsh enough to make these girls cry.

6- Harry Harrison's "gorgeous tan"

moving onto this wild quote from many years from now by barry miles about george's older brother (bold mine):

"George Harrison’s elder brother Harry had been to Christmas Island and arrived back with a gorgeous tan in his army uniform and we thought, My God, he’s been made a man of. You used to see this quite regularly, people would be made a man of."

7/8- gender neutral language

let's get into some interesting gender neutral language he uses. now, would this be Particularly compelling with a modern celebrity? not really. but most people his age really don't talk gender neutrally unless it's to be vague On Purpose. like this bit from many years from now, where before this he'd been using exclusively "girl" and "she/her" pronouns talking about hookups, it suddenly shifts to very purposefully vague (bold mine):

With a lot of those people I met and related to, albeit for a short time, I've mercifully forgotten them and I don't really remember what went on, thank goodness. There may have been a few drinks involved and I was a little merry and, you know, you slip back to someone's flat... My main feeling really is one of relief. You do feel like some of it was outrageous. But I'm glad to have had a slightly outrageous period in my life, as long as it didn't hurt anybody, because I'd always felt maybe my character was too careful. I think the great thing was I never had any deep, dark secrets. That's what the papers wanted. They wanted me to be hiding a little Miss Whiplash somewhere, and for the flat to be in my name. But it was never that. It was always a one-night stand with whoever was around and wanted to party.

this next one take w a grain of salt bc the source Is cited but looking it up online only brings up tumblr blogs. the source does seem to exist but i'm being so real i don't care enough to go and buy the source but if anyone wants to and wants to fact-check it have at it. bold mine:

Favourite Drink: If I could only choose one drink it would have to be water. When I’m a bit hung over that’s all I can take. But I still like a Scotch and Coke. I can’t overdo it any more. Four’s my maximum, four and I’m anybody’s. (official program booklet for The Paul McCartney World Tour (1989-90): Lifelines. (1989))

what's also interesting about this one is it's when him and linda were married, which gives some credence to the rumors that they maybe had an open relationship (men or not). it also makes me think of the "just kidding, linda" thing lmao. she can't take her husband anywhere or he's going to be fagging it up the second he gets 4 drinks in him.

9/10/11- the "binary" (ft. a bit of john)

this infamous quote from the lyrics in his section on "hello goodbye" (bold mine) (x):

I'm attracted to the binary. I state that quite casually, but I think there’s actually a lot more to it than my just saying, ‘I’m attracted to the binary.’ Once you get down to the scientific biological level, in my core, I probably am the binary. All of us are probably more binary than we might realise.

context being that when he says "the binary" he means duality. there's a lot of interesting stuff going on in this article, though there's some more john related stuff i'll add here too bc it's super fascinating (sorry, easier to go here than the john section!):

‘Hello, Goodbye’ shows off a binary that we took great advantage of in The Beatles. With regard to John Lennon and myself, the great attraction we had for each other was that we each had a bit the other didn’t have. John could be quite cynical. I was his opposite, in that respect. [...] I think there definitely was a sort of ‘hello, goodbye’ about John and myself. But we loved it. We loved it because John could contribute his caustic wit and I could contribute something more upbeat. Not always, we each did what the other one did from time to time. But if you had to break it down – and though it is a bit crude to say so – there was a binary tension at the heart of our songwriting together.

12- big guys at the gym

onto something more lighthearted and also just ridiculous (x):

"If I'm in a gym and all the big guys have got big weights and they're doing all the big stuff, at the end I do a headstand," he said. "And they come over to me [and say], 'That's pretty impressive man.'" ["78-year-old Paul McCartney’s fitness routine includes headstands and yoga with Alec Baldwin" by Cory Stieg]

13- gay dreams

this infamous quote which i have a bit of a different take on that i'll expand on in a sec (bold mine)

My view is that these things are there whether you want them or not, in your interior. You don’t call up dreams, they happen, often the exact opposite of what you want. You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, “Shit, am I gay?” I like that you don’t have control over it. But there is some control – it is you dreaming, it is your mind it’s all happening in. In a way my equation would be that my computer is fully loaded by now. Maybe in younger people there’s a little bit of loading to go, but mine’s loaded pretty much, so what I try and do is allow it to print out unbeknown to me. And I’m interested to hear what it’s got in there. (interview by Karen Wright for Luigi's Alcove, 2000) (x)

a lot of people use this to point to him being oblivious, which i do get, but i want to focus more on the line "it is you dreaming, it is your mind it's all happening in". like he seems interested and fascinated by the revelations we have in our dreams- hardly repressed or scared.

14- royston ellis' "break me in easy"

we've all been over the royston ellis poem and i don't want to just retype out everything that's already on this post so go check out @eppysboys' post on the royston ellis poem!

but tl;dr a bisexual friend of theirs in liverpool, royston ellis, wrote this poem called "Break Me In Easy":

Easy, easy, break me in easy. Sure I’m big time, cock-sure and brash, but easy, easy, break me in easy. Sure they’ve been others, I know the way…

which is about gay sex. he also told the boys that 1 in every 5 men was gay and paul worried that it might be him (this was back in 1960). he still remembered it line for line by 2006 which is just insane. all the sources for those are over on the linked post.

15- woody pecker

originally posted by @didwemeetsomewherebefore here (links to my blog bc the wayback machine was not cooperating right but as long as it stays up you can find the original here!)

PAUL & DONOVAN: How to suck a lollypopper, Sitting on a woodypecker, Dancing in the double-decker shoe, I don’t know, So, how do you do? PAUL: I don't know how you do it, Lordy, knows I try But every time I try to do it, My whole darn tongue gets ti(r)ed

this one is just so sillyyyyy and cute but it's just so full of innuendo like sucking on a lollypop and sitting on a woody pecker and your tongue getting tied (tired?) when you try to suck the uh lollypop. giggling his way through it with one of his boy best friends donovan too.

16- "i heard he was gay"

this fun little quote from body count by francie schwartz:

When the rotation of bike, gun, and other diversions left me alone with Billy, his first words were, "You went with Paul McCartney, didn’t you?" "I bet you just love it when people ask you about your father, don't you?" He was surprised, he half-frowned. "No, really, what's Paul like? I heard he was gay." "He might have gone that way, but he didn't. He really didn't dig fucking all that much, if that's any kind of an answer."

note here though that francie is a notoriously unreliable source on paul. she hates him and honestly makes some pretty homophobic digs at him & others pretty frequently. so it is interesting that she denies he's gay, but says he might have gone that way. given how short of a time they were together and how weird their relationship was, i wouldn't really expect him to be open about that with her- still, she noticed something there too.

17- homosexual handbook

paul was mentioned in the homosexual handbook by angelo d'arcangelo in 1968 under a list of famous homosexuals. it's very tongue in cheek and says this "may just be wishful thinking on (my) part"

and obviously not proof as the book takes a very playful and unserious tone. he does provide this little disclaimer though, which i think is interesting:

Some of the men on this list are self-acknowledged homosexuals. Some are not. All of them are generally thought to be gay. However, as many family men and notorious womanizers appear on these pages, we must—rather than question their forays into either or both sexes—congratulate them on their obvious virility.

because once again like... WHERE are these rumors about paul being gay? because the rest of this list, as far as i can tell (ngl i did not do a deep read there) are men who have/had gay rumors about them or were gay. this comes up more in the john post as well, but i seriously need to know just how many rumors there were about him being gay.

18- "the female hordes"

It was always obvious Brian was gay and we could talk to him about gay things, but he would never come out with, 'Hello, Paul, you’re looking nice today.' I was quite obviously un-gay, due to my hunting of the female hordes, and I think we all must have given the same impression. There had been a suggestion since that John had some homosexual thing with Brian, but I personally doubt it. All the intimate moments we shared were always about girls. (from Anthology)

i know putting one of his "un-gay" quotes here is counter intuitive but listen i have genuinely never heard a gayer thing come out of a man's mouth than "hunting of the female hordes" it sends me to fucking mars every time i read it. that's the most closeted shit i've ever read in my entire life. it sounds like what a gay man would say trying to come up with something a straight man would say. and i think paul's bi, he just desperately wants me to think he's never gotten pussy a day in his damn life with this quote.

as a side-note, "all the intimate moments we shared were always about girls". now what do you mean by that man..... like shared as in verbally told stories? or do you mean it was always about the girls when you guys were...... intimate? because those are two really different things and i need to know what the hell that's supposed to mean

19/20- this poor man just wants to flirt with and kiss men can we let him

okay tumblr has nerfed me and won't let me add any more videos from tumblr but there's a video of drunk paul almost kissing ringo jokingly. posted by @stewy here and as long as it's up you can reblog it here- thank u for the contribution to my red stringing lmfao

pringo for once thank god but. i don't even have anything to say except to point and think of a slur. drunk as hell flirting with your best friend what's better than that.

and then this whole interaction between paul & elton john where they kiss on the mouth

youtube

and i could so buy that this is a straight man and gay man just being comfortable together except well see above and see the other posts but also paul's very much adapting a softer, "campier" tone around him and calling him babe/darling in a very, again, gay way. not as in he's gay For elton john lmfao but this is how to old gay friends would greet each other do you see what i mean do you understand me......

anyway that's the end of part 1 join me next time (whenever the fuck i decide to avoid doing homework again um) this man has sucked a dick i'm so sure of this. (not really don't sue me for libel paul love ya)

#paul mccartney #mclennon #adjacently.#this is so fucking long jesus god and im so sure theres other shit im missing that yall are gonna add too #just know theres More Coming i just couldnt feasibly put it all in one post is. how much there is. this man is so bisexual #tried to source everything correctly as well as who posted stuff on tumblr first #but if u see smth and ur like hey i'd like credit for that i probably didnt know you posted it somewhere but lmk yk #fuck i should tag these hold on #paul tome #great beautiful tagging system

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cinna-wanroll · 1 day ago

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The Twinkification of Obi-Wan Kenobi

Hi everyone! I have emerged from the abyss to posit an opinion and analysis about something that has been ongoing in my corner of the fandom for some time now and I just wanted to share my thoughts. Please note that this is not meant to be a call-out post. If you have made references to Obi-Wan being a twink, we are cool, we simply have a difference of opinion! As always this blog is an open space where people from across the fandom are welcomed and loved.

With that being said:

The Co-Opting of "Twink"

It isn't uncommon to come across the term "twink" nowadays while scrolling the social medias. In fact, there are several videos referencing men, both real and fictional, using "twink" as a kind of affectionate endearment.

Is there a big, beefy man who shows his emotions in your favorite TV show? Chances are he has been called a twink.

Looking at a cute post of a straight couple? There is a chance the woman has captioned her post with: I love my twink boyfriend! :)

Is there a trans man on your for you page? Peer in the comments: chances are he, too, has people teeming in his comments to call him a twink.

Let us be clear: this is not what the word "twink" means.

The term "twink" is a queer term that has become so mangled and co-opted by cis, straight people (especially women) that it has become misused across the internet. So what is it, exactly? "Twink" is a queer identifier. Traditionally, the term refers to gay men who are:

Thin

Not very muscular

Not hairy

Young

Of course, there is always room for nuance. Also, there are so many layers to this conversation I have not and will not address fully. However, the main purpose of this conversation is to discuss its relation to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

So You Want to Woobify a Warrior

Most of the time when I see someone refer to Obi-Wan as a twink, it is in reference to mid-thirties, mid or post-war Obi-Wan. I am not going to address sexuality here because I am a firm believer in allowing people their interpretations of characters' sexualities. Instead, here are some photos of Obi-Wan Kenobi during and a bit after the era previously mentioned, and of his actor, Ewan McGregor:

Here are some things of note: Ewan and Obi-Wan are not especially petite. They are muscular, hairy, and visibly middle-aged. Or at least, visibly older than 20s.

In Karen Miller's Wild Space, Bail Organa throws up in his hands out of fear when Obi-Wan is having hallucinations and moves to attack him.

In Christie Golden's Dark Disciple, he punches a droid in the face and it stumbles back.

My point here is that Obi-Wan is intimidating. He underwent years of rigorous training, fought in battle after battle, and is an expert in martial arts. The chances of him escaping that with the appearance of being boyish, early 20s, skinny, and not muscular seem... slim. War does not typically have anti-aging effects.

I once saw someone on this app make a point that because Obi-Wan is portrayed as the more intuitive and emotionally regulated character in contrast to Anakin's brash violence, he is perceived as more feminine. Therefore, he is more "coddleable." And, furthermore, the "feminine" narrative lends itself to the stereotypical parts of the label of twink. (Again, there is a deeper conversation to be had there. I am generalizing).

Unless Obi-Wan has been extensively malnourished, shaved, and de-aged, I don't see sense in seeing him as a twink.

The part of all this with even more implications associated is that I see a lot of this mentioned in relationship to Obi-Wan being in a relationship with Cody. There is a lot of comparison there, usually positioning Cody as the strong, indestructible warrior of whom Obi-Wan is either envious of or saved by. The racist undertones there are infinite and have been addressed and readdressed, especially by POC in the fandom.

Anyways gorgeous people, this concludes my thoughts, as it is very late. I am hoping to be able to participate in Codywan First Kiss Bingo, but I was hit with the flu and have been working diligently to catch up in my uni classes. I love you all and wish you nothing but the best!

#cinna speaks #codywan #obi-wan kenobi #meta

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 22 hours ago

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Alles zu seiner Zeit

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, mentions of death and loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Fifteen years after a plague struck Wisborg, the widower Harding continues to visit his wife and daughter at the cemetery where you work. His devotion spans across seasons but it might be more than those he lost drawing him back.

Characters: Friedrich Harding

Note: this is a new character for me so...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Winter

Bristles scrape on stone. Each push of the broom tugs in your arms, the layers against the chill inspiring a slake of sweat along your back. The trickle makes you itch as your efforts scratch across the ground, sending clouds of snow into heaps.

Where once greenery blossomed and flowers smiled at sunlight remain only bristly sticks and frozen dirt 'neath the rug of January's malaise. The sombre grey skies form a thin curtain against the shadow of memories. The spectre of plague and whispers of a curse carry in the winds and swirl the flakes around your skirts.

You were young the winter the sickness came. You'd known eight up until that blight and your brothers knew no other. They were of the forsaken, left in pine boxes to be buried when the frozen ground could be cracked with a spade. Your mother joined them soon after, though of a different malady; despair.

Your father suffered the same disease but to a very different effect. At the bottom of a bottle. He lingers there in the depths of distraught distraction.

You sweep the path clear to the doors of the mausoleum, then perpendicular around the perimeter. When the walkways are done, you will put your mind to the stones. And by the time those are revealed, a new sheet will litter the ground and your work will begin anew.

Emmett, the youngest of the diggers, sits in wool and a leather cap, drinking hot barley from a cup. He shivers as you pass, mindful not to push the snow his way. He doffs the cup amiably.

"How's it, fraulein?" He greets.

"You would know so well as I, herr," you reply, moving the bristles anon. Your mittened hands cling tightly as the cold nips through to your knuckles. You keep your chin tucked into your scarf,

"Frigid, ja," he cradles the cup and curls into its warmth. Adelaine, daughter of the sexton, must have offered the kindness. She does make certain to know all the diggers' names. "Would you do all this by your own?" He peers around the rolling expanse marked by headstones and monuments.

"Someone must mind the spirits," you carry on without hamper.

"For a pretty thaler or so, I'd pray," he remarks and clucks.

You will not tell the truth. It is a thaler for the whole of a fortnight of sweeping and clearing the cobwebs; of breaking the frost from the keyholes and dusting away the musty leaves and stirred pebbles.

"I pray you keep warm, herr. The almanac calls for a long winter." You bid as you progress away from him.

"And you, Fraulein. Mind the ice," he girds.

You keep careful steps as you press on. Emmett rises with his cup of barley and retreats to the shed with the shovels. A mean gale blows around you, nearly taking you off your feet.

You steady yourself as you plant the broom and chatter against the deathly gust. There's a shrill whine from behind you. You turn as Adelaine clings to her fur-trimmed hood and hides behind a statue of the Holy Mother.

"Fraulein," she trills in her creaky tones. "Have you seen Herr Emmett?"

"Mm," you hum in hesitation. Her father, Wilhelm, warned you against encouraging her comingling. He is a pious man, minding the sacred grounds and all. "I'm not certain where he's strayed, Fraulein Adelaine."

"Mercy," she huddles down against another violent draught. "The bishops says it's not been so cold since... well, he would not speak of it."

She makes the sign of the cross and bows her head, clutching her hand where her golden necklace is hidden beneath her dress and cloak. Many would not wear holy icons so gregarious in their clothing. Simple wood or iron is more in line with the protestant pragmatism.

The gate bell tolls and she cranes to see beyond you. Snow blows across her cheeks as the wind billows in her hood. Your own lets the bitter chill right through its weave.

"There he is," she exclaims before your mind might follow her previous allusion. That corrupt wintertide.

You turn to peer across the ivory swathes. Henrick and Emmett approach the gate and open it to the visitor. A figure on a horse rides through impatiently, nearly catching Henrick beneath the hooves. The gentleman wears simple black though the richness of its cut can be seen even from your purview. The breed of his coldblood steed attests to his fortune.

Adelaine gasps and steps out close to you. You have seen the man before. As often you've seen the drape of his cloak, you would only know him by the emblem pinned upon the horse's harness.

"It is the widower, Harding." She whispers.

The man draws his horse around the stone crypt marked with his name. The one barren of any other decoration; no flowers in Fruhling, no ornament upon the door, nor even a cross carved into the lintel. You note the plainness each time you tend its grounds.

He drops off his horse heavily. His boots send up a cloud and you grip the broom tighter. How quickly it's piled up all over again. Flecks fall along the folds of his cloak as he marches to the doors. You can hear the twist of the key as he lets himself within. The door slams sonorously and casts a pall over the grounds.

"My father says he was young when his wife and daughters succumbed to the ague," Adelaine says.

"Do not speak of it," you chide. "It is ill tidings to call upon the dead who wish to remain undisturbed."

She tuts, "he comes every day. He disturbs them oft enough."

"They are his to disturb," you sniff. "I should be certain it does not snow him in."

She would not know what it is to have those beyond your grasp. To spend the nocturne longing for them to be there again. To hear them sing a lullaby or tuck you into sleep.

"Have you ever been inside? Even a glimpse? Father does not have a key." She grabs your sleeve before you can depart. "What do you presume he does within? I've heard him talking..."

"It isn't of my concern," you tug away from her. "Nor yours."

"Hmph, mind your lip," she sneers. "Or I'll have father find another broom sweep. Perhaps one more droll, ja?"

"Apologies, fraulein, I only mean to do my work," you say. "The snow comes more and more. Perhaps you should go within, be warm."

"Perhaps I might and perhaps I mightn't," she retorts and rubs together her gloved hands. "Very well, go about and do you work, little dormouse."

You part before her temper can rise. Adelaine can be as prickly as she is pleasant. One moment a giggle, the next a growl.

You retrace your steps along the path, uncovering the stone with the bristles as you do. You glance over at the yellow crypt as the wind wails as a wraith might. None are permitted within but the widower. It is a rule never broken. Never questioned. All know of the heartbroken Harding and his sorrow, even beyond those gates. Even as he hides within the walls of the house he once made a home of.

Fruhling (Spring)

As the annual thaw softens the earth, the frozen ground churns to mud, and the air bristles with the damp threat of rain. The early sprigs of green poke up from the flattened grasses and the cracks between the stonework fill with wet sludge. Your bristles clump with mud and you trade the broom for shovel to scrape it all away.

Adelaine’s song carries with those of the songbirds, returned from their winter nests. She sits upon a bench and chimes as Emmett and Matthias dig into a new plot nearby. Her ploy is not subtle.

Even as the season marks rebirth, death is to be expected. The hole is meant for the wife of a cobbler who did not survive her child. The infant, as you heard, is well. A reverence carries on the whispers as the old wives and grandmothers praise her noble sacrifice. It is as close as a woman might come to the bravery of man, though there isn’t much choice in the matter.

Your mind wanders as the tedium of your work inspires preoccupation. Adelaine will be a wife one day. Will she end up in the ground upon her own sacrifice? Or will she sing then to her child instead of the diggers?

What of yourself? You are no lady, your father is not rich but a drunkard feeding his demise off your tuppence. Should you have a husband when he succumbs to the rye’s dark tides? It would be practical. You father has no son, his house cannot pass to a daughter.

With your days spent in the cemetery, you know that inevitability is closer than you should like. Your father should’ve died the night he was kicked in the skull by that old mule he slapped while in his cups. It is a miracle he lived to laugh so bawdily about the farce.

You sigh and carry on, as you do many things in life. You will need to think on it more thoroughly before Winter comes again. It is a godsend your father did not catch the same ague as poor Frau Elke. You spent wakeless nights listening to his snores, searching for a cough or a choke.

The day wears on and the burial happens in a bout of sunshine which beams down sardonically on the party’s grief. When the forsaken mother is buried, never to kiss the face of her child, they depart. Emmett and Matthias pat firm the earth as Sexton Wilhelm whistles for you.

His daughter has been sent away. She cannot stomach the funerals. Ironic given her lot in life. Her family is not from Wisborn, they did not witness the plague, only heard of it. Her mother is well and alive, she never had any sibling, and her father is in fine enough health for a man his age.

“These flowers are for the woman’s plot,” he gestures to a crate of marigolds.

“Yes, Herr,” you reply diligently.

“I will have one of the diggers assist,” he assures and struts off.

You turn to face the plot. You heard the woman was younger than even you. A new bride. Not even twenty. You trace the cross over your chest and shoulders then pick up a basket of the marigolds

Matthias comes with two hand spades. You take one and begin your work. You transplant the rooted flowers into the ground carefully. He grumbles as he kills more than he preserves. His hands are not delicate but calloused and well-worn.

“Herr, I will finish,” you say. “You’ve done plenty today.”

“Are you certain? There are still very many.” He glances over at the crate.

“Too many. I will find them homes,” you promise.

The gate bell rings as if supporting your suggestion. Matthias rises and dusts of his hands. Emmett and Henrick run down to open the doors to the visitor. Black velvet flaps over short bristles of reddish-brown. The widower canters in as the thick hooves clop over the stone.

You pack down the earth around another stem. Harding dismounts as the diggers keep their distance. The lock grinds and the door drags on its hinges. It closes with a clunk as your shovel bites into the earth again and again.

When you have lined the plot with the pleasant orange blooms, there is still a basket left. You peer around the fruhling blossom. Your eyes are drawn to the most bland swath among the sprawl. The yellow crypt and its vacant brick walls. Not even the ivy grows upon it.

You are not so presumptuous as to disturb the soil. You cut the stems and bound them together with a headless one. Little bundles all snug together. You place them along the front of the crypt. They will die and blow away but it is a small blessing for the lost.

You set above wiping clean the foot of the statue of the splattered mud. As you do, the crypt opens again. The cloak almost seems to float as its wearer remains hidden in its folds. He stops only two steps from the threshold.

You scrape off dried muck with your fingernail as the clouds shift above. The sudden frantic scuffing and stomping draws your attention. Harding crushes the petals into the ground, decapitating the stems, twisting them into strands with his heels. His hood shifts you think for a moment he is looking at you.

He kicks away what is left of the bouquets and approaches his dulcet steed. The beast is still as its rider mounts. It trods around the crypt then up the path to the gates. You frown and watch the widower’s departure. You did not mean to offend. You hope that Herr Wilhelm does not hear of this error.

Sommer (Summer)

Pollen floats in the air, tickling nostril and throat, mingling with the aromas of June. In the early morning dim, a cool breeze stirs the hem of your skirts and wafts around your clogs. You walk with a stick in hand, using it to traverse the cobbled roadway, chipped by the passing of carriage and hoof.

Your trek to the cemetery is peaceful in the sommer. In the winter, it can grow quite eerie with the whistling winds like wailing wretches and the spindly branches like skeletons. In the summer, the trees are lush and rustling, waving like companions, and the grass ripples like water beneath the gentle flow.

That morning, you hum to yourself as you peer ahead at the distant cemetery wall. There are houses along the old street but most still sleep in the dawn’s hue. You must be early to the graveyard so that you may ready the plots and paths.

As you plod along, the posts of the cemetery gate come clearer over the rooftops. Your low melody is punctured by a sudden tempo. Slow and plodding. You move aside as you sense the nearing horse. The merchants rise as early as you; eager to deliver or claim their cargo at the dock.

They do not hurry. They do not change measure. You traipse along and await their passing. As the shadow of the great steed nears, you do not count the creak of a wheel or axle. It is only a rider.

Yet, they do not continue past you. The hooves keep a patient pace in tune with yours. You’ve never heard or seen a horse go so slow. Any beast you ever saw would tremble to be at full tilt amid the meadows.

You peer over your shoulder curiously and follows the white fur around the wide hoof up the brown leg to the reddish sheen further up, the strands of a well-brushed main draping around the coldblood’s thick neck. Black velvet pleats around its rider but does not catch the wind. The fabric is too heavy for riding and for the season.

The emblem on the horse’s chest gleams in your eye. It is him, the widower, in his mourning ebon. His hood shrouds his face as ever and he is silent as his horse walks beside you, as if an escort.

You wait but he does not canter nor trot. He keeps the gait. You look ahead again then back to him. You wouldn’t want to be uncouth.

“Guten morgen, Herr Harding.”

As you’ve never heard him speak, you’re not certain you’ve ever heard any speak to him. Not the bold Adelaine or the stern Sexton Wilhelm. He only ever brought dire silence with him to the crypt. And then, as always, he remains quiet.

You gulp and once more put your attention ahead of you. You are nearly at the gates, though you would not enter through the mainway. There is a smaller door round the east corner.

The gentleman and his horse bear down on you, their shadow rippling in the rising sunlight. Sweat trickles down your spine as a chill speckles across your skin. You feel as if he watches you but dare not look upon him in turn. You don’t believe you would see anything beneath his hood. You do wonder if the widower might indeed be a phantom himself.

He steers to the gates and you pass them and head for the door behind the English oak. You pull the cord to lift the lever and glance over at Herr Harding. The widower’s hood shifts in your direction. You cannot see his eyes but you feel them. Like worms crawling over a corpse. You press inside and quickly swing the iron door shut.

The gate bell pierces the early din of tweeting birds and skittering critters. Dandelion dust powders the air and bristles in your nose. You go to the shed to fetch your broom as the gates open at the widower’s behest.

When you come out, he is gone. His horse is by the crypt and the doors are closed. You are deliberate in your work. Since that day with the marigolds, you’ve not gone near the yellow brick while Harding was as visitation. You always wait and say a silent prayer for his family as you clear the debris.

There is much to do in the aged cemetery. There is no shortage of dead, forgotten or new. The stones must be cleaned or repaired. Wilhelm takes care to apply mortar to new cracks are to fix an eroded etching, so long as a thaler is offered for the effort.

You brush the broom back and forth, pausing to watch a bee pollinate a flowerbed or a caterpillar make his slow progress over the stone. There is so much life here despite the purpose of the land. Where others come only to see death, you see what is still there.

The sun ascends higher and higher. You leave your shawl in the shed and take a can to water the blooms. You marvel at how some petals seem to open and drink in the moisture. In the sommer, there is splendour. In sommer, you can hardly believe that winter could ever be.

As you come around the path, the horse stands by the crypt, chewing the patchy grass. You pass by its swaying tail as you return the can to the shed. While there, you steal a handful of feed meant for the horses that draw the wagons of the lost.

You cautiously near the large beast. It has been some hours since your arrival and it is a hot day. You open your palm, curving back your fingers to avoid the flat gnashing teeth. The horse smears spit on your hand as he eats the oats.

The crypt door whines on the thick hinges and you wince and back away. You tuck yourself into an alcove as the door shuts heavily. You press into the brick as your heart races and you spot the littered trail of feed that leads to you.

As Herr Harding comes around to mount his horse, he spies it too. He pauses as he bows beneath his hood, the edges of lifting slightly as he follows the seed and oat to you. You stare at him haplessly. You don’t know what to do or say.

He turns and grabs the reins. He hauls himself onto the hours and clicks his teeth, driving his heels into its belly. The horse snorts and obeys, its hooves dusting along the stone toward the main gates.

Herbst (Autumn)

Summer wilts with the crisp bite of Herbst. One last breath of life before the grey winter. The leaves mellow to rustic tones of umber and gold, the pine cones litter the dirt, and the wet grass shine from the kiss of the morning fog. You sweep aside the wet leaves with your broom, skirts sodden along the hem.

As you follow your usual progress across the grounds, the gate bell chimes. The echo rolls through the air and earth. The steady chafe of bristles guides you through the musty mist. It is a beautiful season but wet.

You pause to brush leaves that have caught on plinths or statues, to wipe away the twigs across the stones embedded in the flats, and to tidy the plots of the leafy carpet. You can only count the blessing that it is not snow.

Adelaine’s laughter flutters up to you. Her father helps her into a carriage. She has been entertaining a suitor as of late. She always spoke of a summer wedding but it seems a winter one may be on the horizon. She is off to see the bishop and her betrothed.

Emmett and Matthias open the gates with little heed to their employer and his daughter. They must feel spurned after so long of her fawning over them. It is unfair of her to give them such false longings. They shut the gates and stomp off back to their digging.

There was a family that perished in a fire. They will each need a hole among their designated plot. It is sombre and back-breaking work. You do not envy the diggers for more than their wage. Were you a man, you could take a shovel and make at least a thaler more than you do now.

You shiver again. You’ve not been warm for days. You’ve not the money for fuel so the hearth remains dormant in favour of your father’s habit. The drink keeps him warm and you are left to wool and the friction of your palms. Thank the lord you have walls at the least.

The voices of the men fade as they climb to the new plot and you come down the low incline toward the main row of the cemetery; the large mausoleum for the fallen soldiers and the next for the vaunted nobles.

As you near the yellow crypt, you are met with a most unlikely sight. The doors are open. You search around the desolate grounds.

The coldblood is not there awaiting his rider. The gate bell rang but you did not see the black hood enter. How can that be? Perhaps he did leave it unlocked the day prior.

Looters are not uncommon. Henrick chases them off in the mornings as they sleep in an alcove or on a bench. Though, unless they have a chisel, they do not claim much.

You rest your broom against the yellow brick. You stand before the open doors. Both are drawn wide. You look up at the arch as shadows plume within. As you stare inside, you swear you can see the darkness furling and unfurling.

You make yourself move. Step by step you approach the doors. You grab the large iron ring on the left one and pull. It is much too heavy. Or you are much too weak. You grunt and try again, shifting it a few inches.

A scratching noise stills your efforts. You squint as you try see through the thick gloom.

“Allo?” You call through, “is someone within?”

You wait for an answer. There is nothing, but then, a skittering noise. A rat, perhaps.

A swirls of leaves blows around you and skid over the stone floor within. You look over your shoulder, hoping someone might pass and help you shut the place up. There is only you.

You take your broom and enter cautiously. You hold your breath as you gather the leaves and push them back out. You might shove a door shut from within then use the broom to somehow leverage the other.

You bat the last of the clutter out and turn to peer out at the red sky. Your feet leave the stone and your cry is smothered by a gloved palm. You kick out in fright as the broom clatters from your grasp.

You claw behind you blindly as you are spun to face the crypts black belly. You jolt back with your captor as he pushes the door closed with his weight, then the other. You writhe and flail, grabbing at the arm hooked around your waist.

He pants but does not speak. He carries you forward as your soles bounce off the floor.

Your stomach meets something hard. A stone ledge engraved in tiers. You brace it as you’re crushed against it. Your arms shake as you try to shove yourself away, try to free yourself of this treacherous adversary.

You whimper and wiggle your head helplessly, unable to free your mouth from behind his hand. You know by his strength, by his size that it is a man indeed. He shushes you and squeezes your jaw.

You quiver and splay your fingers on the stone shape before you. It is a sarcophagus. You shudder as your throat tightens.

He presses flush to you. His warmth seeps through the damp layers of wool wrapped around you as his nose brushes up the brim of your ear. He exhales and his breath wraps around your neck. He sucks in air and nuzzles along your hair. He’s smelling you.

He buries his nose in you locks and purrs. The deep gristle makes you quake. He continues to smell you, to feel you as his hand spreads on your stomach and grazes up your bodice. You tap your foot around in a frantic search for his, driving your heel down upon his toe.

He grunts and brings his hand up to tap your cheek. He hums derisively. That noise alone freezes your blood. There’s something so base about it.

He slips his hand down again and the other follows. He keeps you penned in with his arms and removes his gloves, letting them fall to the floor. His fingertips dance up your bodice and back down. He kneads and pokes and caresses. He fondles you until you’re a trembling mess.

“Herr, please--”

He nips your ear and snarls. You close your eyes but it cannot save you from this. You are only deeper into the darkness. He drags his nose down to your neck and nuzzles into you there. His hand curls around your hip, squeezing before climb up your back and down again.

He draws his face from your neck and his hands descend further. He tugs and yanks at your skirts, bundling them up in his grasp. He pulls them up to your waist and leans into you until your middle is right against the stone, your body bent with his.

He hooks his arm under the layers of your skirt as his other hand wanders beneath. His nails skim your skin, goosebumps rising with his touch, and traces down to thighs. He pokes beneath them meanly and forces his foot between yours. He kicks your boots wide and you whine again.

“Herr, please--”

“Ta ta,” he warns in a hiss.

He pushes his hand between your legs, cupping it over your cunt. He inhales again as he takes in the scent of your scalp, his nose once more delving into your hair. He slips his middle finger between your lips and rubs you. Gently at first, then firmer, quaking as he pinpoints on your clit, rolling it beneath his fingertip.

Your legs tingle and tremble. You dip your head down and he growls. He spreads the slickness that rises with his uninvited touch. Your lips form around a silent prayer as you beg the lord for forgiveness.

He pushes his finger into you, his hand against your cunt as he rocks in and out. He does not heed your babbling pleas or the shattering of your body and soul. He takes what he covets without repentance.

He continues to pet you, coaxing you until you are heavy, writhing in a maddened state. You do not welcome him and yet it is pleasureful. It is joy like you’ve never known. And it bursts within you like damn, coursing free as a river as it slakes down your thighs.

You wail between your teeth as you bite down on your shame. Father, Mary, forgive me. I do not want this. I swear it.

He groans and exhales into you. He pulls his hand back and leaves you hollow and squirming. He reaches between your bodies and fusses with his own clothing. You squeak and try to crawl over the sarcophagus. He keeps you trapped as he clutches the rumpled fabric of your skirt.

He once more scoops his hand around your pelvis and along your cunt. He spreads you and guides his cock along your bottom. You whimper and reach to stop him. He ignores you as he delves down along your cunt. He stops at your entrance and wets himself with your sinful excess.

He snakes his hand up to your hip and pushes you onto him. Just his swollen tip. You gasp and gulp as you twitch around him.

He lets go of your skirts and they fall down over the front of your legs, the back caught between your bodies. He tilts and slowly impales you.

His hand crawls up your bodice and he pushes beneath the taught fabric. He squeezes your breast, two fingers framing your nipple as he snarls and burrows into you with subtle and slow thrusts.

You tense and tremour as he gets deeper, crying out as he breaks past the last thread of innocence. He huffs and bows his head down. His lips brush over the meat of your shoulder close to your neck and he bites into it. You sob again and he bucks his hips.

He puts you on your toes as he repeats the motion. He pulls back then snaps against your rear. Each time he bites harder, he gropes you tighter. He pumps into you, faster, more furious, more frantic.

His voice trickles out between his eager rutting. He teethes at you as he pinches your nipple. He bends you over the sarcophagus as his breath billows all around you.

He pounds into you so that the stone cuts into your hips and stomach. You snivel as your tears soak your cheeks and your head thrums. You grip the lid beneath you and hide your face against your arm.

He spasms and buckles, his legs seeming to give out, though he keeps his hips moving. He fucks you until he cannot any longer. Until he is weak and panting into your nape.

He sniffs and reaches to cover your hand on the stone. He slips his palm away and feels the sarcophagus. He slowly eases out of you and leaves you to hang off the lid.

He chokes into the blackness, “forgive me, Anna.”

Your legs give out and you sink onto the floor. You hang your head as you barely keep yourself from heaping into a puddle. Herr Harding weeps over his wife as you do the same for yourself.

#friedrich harding #dark friedrich harding #dark!friedrich harding #friedrich harding x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #nosferatu

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introvertbard · 12 hours ago

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@fairykukla I just realized I typed this huge thing up on the wrong blog, so if I've reblogged your stuff already from my writing blog, sorry! Also, my post has been HEAVILY updated to account for preindustrial armies, camp followers, and "everyone who knows anything about horses is begging people to at least look at the Wikipedia page about ''medieval warhorses!' Stop using modern, chunky, and ridiculously tall farm-horses like Shires and Percherons as the "noble destriers" of medieval times!" https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask

Remember that in True Grit, Blackie most likely didn't cover a 40-mile trek to reach a doctor--he collapses after the first day, and Rooster has to shoot him for a mercy-kill before he and Mattie continue on foot. This is likely because Blackie was overloaded with two riders, one of whom was critically injured.

You have:

-Rooster, a middle-aged/old man (in his forties in the book, and played by actors in their sixties in the movies). He can ride, but he will not have his former endurance from when he was twenty or thirty. Rooster is also busy HOLDING MATTIE ON THE HORSE, because she's been bitten by a snake and can't ride properly. In the 2010 version, after Blackie's died and Rooster has to run the normal way, he can't even make that last sprint to the house they come across: He has to shoot his gun to wake everyone up and he just wheezes, "I have grown old."

-Mattie, a teenager suffering a snakebite. Mattie is fourteen and she might be lighter than a grown woman, but snakebites mean you CANNOT exert yourself too much, or you will die faster... like, say, with horse-riding. After a few hours, the OTHER problem with snakebite happens: Mattie starts hallucinating. This makes her as good as a sack of potatoes on a horse.

I would guess the group covered a regular 20-30 miles on horse, and after Blackie died, they went that last 10 or so miles on foot. But the end result is the same--at a given point, you are drenched in sweat, EVERYTHING in your body hurts, and at some point you will not be able to put one foot in front of the other anymore.

Many historical writers refer to a horse being "blown" or "blown out" when it's at this point, but just as many writers bluntly say "the horse collapsed," or "the horse couldn't go any longer."

Also, while we're talking about Westerns and horses, here's a terrible writing note to keep in mind: SOMETIMES HORSES GET NOSEBLEEDS FROM HEAVY EXERTION. If you really need that grimness for a (near-)death scene--or alternately, if you need a clear and emphatic sign that your character's horse is in trouble and YOU NEED TO STOP MOVING THIS INSTANT--then throw a nosebleed into the scene, and riders in the audience will know that You Mean Business.

When you ride a horse to death (both theirs and your own), it's an ugly death.

But if you, the writer, don't WANT your character/character's-horse to die, you just need them to STOP RIGHT NOW, STOPPPPP--and they will recover in time. That help might be full-on bedrest (RIDING A HORSE IS A FUCKING WORKOUT!!!), or it might "just" be getting someone to cook/buy food, support them while they limp around to the bathroom and kitchen, etc. Being fit and prime-aged will help a LOT with recovery!

Teens and young adults can bounce back amazingly fast, if nothing's broken or bleeding. They could easily start recovering to the level of "household tasks and basic horse care" in a few days. But a very young child who hasn't hit puberty yet, or an older person who's starting to collect gray hairs or wrinkles, is probably gonna be closer to the "full bedrest" side of recovery for a while.

If you are LESS LUCKY, you'll recover... just not to your former abilities. I keep repeating this, but riding is a full-body workout! I imagine you can basically say ANYTHING got knocked around, and it won't work right anymore.

"The Character's legs hurt. They can still walk and ride, but for long trips or hard gallops, they need painkillers / rest."

"The Character's lungs are worn out--if they start wheezing, pull them off the fucking horse, or they'll fall off."

"The Character rode their horse for so long that they fell and hit their head. They mostly got better, but [insert concussion or traumatic brain injury]."

"The Character rode their horse for so long that that they fell and broke their arm/leg. They need a brace/cane now."

And for emotional trauma where your MIND got knocked around and won't work right, it's entirely possible to say that, "Character didn't want to ride anymore." or "Character stopped riding after their horse died, and it took them years to get another one."

Modern riders are constantly dealing with emotional trauma after an accident, so in preindustrial times where horses were both EXPENSIVE and NECESSARY, that trauma would be especially deep.

Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance." For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND.

If you are traveling in winter or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

#medieval #horse riding #cw injury #cw death

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epicbuddieficrecs · 21 hours ago

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Weekly Recap | January 27th-February 2nd 2025

Had the audacity to go on a daytrip over the border to the US and all I got was spending way too much money at Target and a cold :(

Complete

the sincerest form of flattery by canadadry (S8E3: Final Approach, Brad POV | 1,7K | Teen): “Your boy—Buck,” Brad says. “First marriage?” ��Pardon?” “Well, your wife is—” Brad starts, stops. Remembers at least a third of the lecture he’s been given at least a dozen times by his publicist on the danger of making assumptions. “He calls your wife by her given name—I mean, does the same to you, but I’d reckon that has more to do with professionalism than personal grievances, given the fact that you clearly get on.” — in which Brad Torrence only almost passes out, and observes the aftermath.

The couch is a lawless place by paleredheadinascifi (Getting Together | 1,8K | Teen): Eddie had kissed him. He knows it happened, because the smudge of chocolate on his pants is still there, courtesy of the peanut butter cup he’d dropped when Eddie lent over and kissed him.

Call Ended (beep beep beep) by paleredheadinascifi (Wine Nights, Getting Together | 2K | Teen): Or, Buck wakes up to a series of increasingly horrifying calls from Eddie. He gets to the bottom of it.

Who you gonna call? by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8A, Buck&Ravi | 1,7K | General): Buck has his first bad leg day since Eddie moved to Texas (Part 1 of The Chainsaw Gang)

Avoidance or Denial by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8A, Getting Together | 4K | Not Rated): Eddie is back from texas and has some theories about Buck and Ravi....he's never been good at theories (Part 2 of The Chainsaw Gang)

and i'd do it over and over again by playinginthunderstorms/ @playinginthunderstorms (PWP, S8E6: Confessions | 4K | Explicit): Gun to his head, Buck honestly doesn't think he could say which one of them made the first move, but somewhere in between the six-pack he'd brought over and whatever was left of a dusty bottle of tequila in the back of a kitchen cupboard, Eddie—beautiful, radiant Eddie, with his pink shirt and tiny underwear—had ended up in his lap, thighs bracketing Buck's, gasping and grinding helplessly into Buck's hips, the most delicious whines spilling out of his mouth and straight onto Buck's tongue, white-hot pleasure spiking through him as potent as the lightning bolt, so he figures he'll at least die happy.

We’re Looking For Something Dumb To Do by scarmaddiewrites (Bachelor Party, Secret Marriage | 5K | Not Rated): “We should get married.” “What?” Buck chokes, his heart doing some weird fluttering thing in his chest. “Really?” “Yeah, I mean… I’m not a redhead or double your age, but maybe I still have a chance?” In the background, Buck hears someone chuckling—probably Ravi, whose drunk giggles have turned into full-on cackles. “Please, Eddie,” Buck says, his voice a mix of exasperation and something warmer, something fond. “Have you seen your ass? To hell with all the other requirements.” Or Buck and Eddie get married during the bachelor party and Ravi encourages it.

Your Life Was My Life's Best Part by saveyourblood/ @saveyourblood (S6E10: In A Flash | 5K | Mature): A neglected child. A soldier who saw people die. A veteran with PTSD. A first responder. A single father. A widower. Eddie Diaz became everything that was supposed to break him. What is he supposed to call this? What does he call the thing that may actually destroy him? - The one where Buck dies, then he doesn't, and their life flashes before Eddie's eyes.

lights will guide you. by dylaesthetics (Social Media, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 6K | Mature): Am I (M33) comphet or an impostor???!!! For the record, I am straight. I think so, anyway. Or I did, all of six hours ago, before my coworkers introduced me to the term ‘comphet’. And now my entire world has kind of spun on its axis and I’m wondering if I’ve been secretly craving dick this whole time. - OR after breaking up with Tommy, Buck goes on a deep-dive on sexuality. He needs to tell someone about all he learns, of course, and Eddie seems like the best option.

Golden Morning Sunbeams by Buddiesmutslut (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 10K | General): Or: As Eddie is debating his move to Texas, a few texts from his son in the middle of the day set him on a course to getting everything he's been wanting.

🔥 An Angry Blade by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-8x05: Masks, Cursed Buck | 43K | Mature): Buck finds out that the curse of Billy Boils is VERY real, and far more complicated and dangerous than he could have expected.

🔥 oh brother, I see (you burn like me) by canadadry (Adriana & Maddie POV, Post-S7E10: All Fall Down | 47K | Mature): Adriana doesn’t tell their parents that she’s going to LA. She doesn’t tell Eddie, either—or ask, for that matter. She does ask Chris, and he thinks it’s a good idea—says as much, on the phone, and doesn’t say much else. “Buck will probably be hovering,” is what Chris does volunteer. It still surprises her when the man who opens the door is not Eddie. It’s—Captain America, is the thing that actually comes to mind—a man close to a foot taller than she is, if not more than that, with blond curls and broad shoulders, and he’s got a question in his very blue eyes that’s probably less friendly than the one he actually asks her. “Uh,” he says. “Can I help you?” — Or: Adriana arrives in LA. Maddie has been here the whole time.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, Divergent Post-S6 | 472K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

WIP

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 10/? | 45K | Teen): Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.

🔥[Podfic] Promising Light by cottagepodfics @cottagepodfics / fic by @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Time Travel | 80min | 2/3 | Mature): Buck and Eddie fall asleep drunk and in separate rooms after the night of Buck and Tommy's breakup. They wake up seven years later, in an unfamiliar future, only to find out that they're married.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fanfiction

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copperbadge · 1 day ago

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Hi CB! I've followed your work for a while and I'm curious - I've seen that you do many times on a repetitive and consistent manner.......how? By the love of gods, how? What is this magic? Is it inherited? Genetic? Signed, please-halp

Hey, thanks for reading! I think you may have missed a word in the ask so I am taking a best guess at what you were inquiring about, but I'm guessing you were asking about consistent and repeat ability to write and post fiction? Gosh that sounds egotistical of me but I used to be known for being prolific and I think I'm still known for, if not having the BEST prose, at least having the ability to be of consistent quality. :)

The good news is that it is neither magic nor genetic, and one of those things that anyone can achieve -- it just takes time and a bit of effort. The secret is that I wasn't always even a good writer; what I have always been is a passionate writer. My early fanfic, from fourteen to eighteen, was actually very bad. But I did it a lot. It's hard to get truly good at something if you aren't passionate about it because you won't want to do it so often that you get good at it, but fortunately I fell in love with it. And once you're good at something you do want to do it all the time!

In my teens I wrote absolutely tons of fanfic, and if you were to read it (you can't, it's not under my name and some of it is lost to the ages) you could actually see me improving, because I started out so terribly bad. We're talking "Multiple people speaking in one paragraph" bad. But I kept writing and took feedback and when I went to college I took classes (I had a kind of unofficial minor in playwriting, including having several short plays produced) and when I came back to fandom after college I was...decent. And this you can trace, if you start reading at the start of my AO3 account where all my fanfic since 2003 is stashed; you can see I used to be more awkward in my prose, my pacing wasn't as good, what I considered relevant to include for the story wasn't as polished as it is now.

So, there are almost five million words on my AO3 account, which doesn't include anything I wrote before 2003; I'm forty-five and started writing when I was just shy of fifteen. This will be my thirtieth year writing fiction in April. If you spend that much time writing, even if you don't necessarily TRY to improve, you will learn and grow. And you learn how your own creative process works and how to wrestle with that, so you become consistent simply because you gain a kind of mental muscle-memory.

The thing is, quality and consistency is nice, but it's not necessary to enjoy either fandom or fanfic, or even writing. If you love to write, that's the best thing; you will bring yourself joy. It's one reason I never even considered making a career as a writer, because I didn't want my joy to become my job. That's not to shit on professional writers by ANY means, I have several as friends and of course I admire many well-known authors. But for me, it was important to preserve the parts I loved best, and I didn't think I could do that and still try to get a paycheck from it.

So the trick of quality, consistent writing is to love it enough to do it until you develop your skills and grow as an artist. But the real trick of any artistic expression is to love it for itself, to put heart into your work, and to do everything you can to protect what gives you pleasure. Quality and consistency are nice but if you love what you do they really, eventually, cease to matter. :)

#writing #fandom #fanfic

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tryingahandinholdingapen · 2 days ago

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let's combine some tropes

- red eyes are blessed (and therefore Tobirama has been hiding his face (and possibly generally his appearance via seal) bc they're not sure what Uchiha do with red-eyed people)

- Tobirama is a v strong sensor

- He finds Uchiha chakra in general and Madara's chakra in particular to be v pleasant

- He sometimes hides at the edge of Uchiha land borders when he's having a bad day, or just when he feels like it, in order to better immerse himself in chakra he finds comforting

- (and also Butsuma Sucks. he's abusive to his kids, esp Tobirama bc woe red eyes akin to sharingan and Butsuma's never been the most rational about his hatred. on a related note he's a passable clan head but he'd be a lot better if he didn't let said hatred guide his actions more than his reason)

...I don't think this post will get too long but I say that every time and then it does so maybe I should just preemptively stick a read more here??

basically au in which, from a p young age, Tobirama sneaks off to chakra bathe when he's sad or stressed. the Uchiha clan haven't actually found any red-eyed people in a while so the Senju aren't sure what they do with them but rumours still abound and all the rumours Tobirama have heard have generally been... well they've been bad. very bad. but they've also all had a common theme of 'the red-eyed person is not immediately killed on the spot', which is better than Tobirama could hope for from Uchiha as the Senju surety heir. so anytime he's hiding/skulking around the edges of Uchiha land, he makes sure that, unlike usual, his true appearance+eyes are on display as well as ensuring he doesn't have the Senju mon on him anywhere

he absolutely does not want to get caught by the Uchiha but also it's only sensible to take precautions so that if the worst case scenario happens and he IS caught trespassing, he should at least have a bit more time to try and escape, bare minimum, right?

so that's Tobirama's side of things

the Uchiha side of things is more like

okay they haven't found a Blessed in some time now and it's not like there's a strict manual what you should do if you find one. it's more like "these people are important, don't hurt them if at all possible, help and protect them if at all possible, bringing them into the clan and teaching them abt all things Uchiha including our religion would be a very good thing". so there's like some guidelines but it's fairly vague

this means the patrol predominantly made up of fairly new shinobi has absolutely no idea what to do when a while after sun-down they come across a Blessed child fast asleep, but slowly blinking awake, in the branches of a tree near the edge of their lands. like. hello?? small child?? why are you here how are you here do you want some soup

they're only standing around in confused and slightly awed shock for like, 3 minutes MAX but unfortunately that's long enough for the child to wake up properly, take one look at the patrol and then fucking bolt off Uchiha lands

cue surprised and self-recriminating cursing from the Uchiha shinobi. they can't just abandon their patrol route and they're somewhat wary of a potential trap for (relatively) newbie shinobi, so they don't all go after the child. but they do send their fastest after the kid because cmon that's a tiny Blessed!!

no luck, they return empty handed

apparently the Blessed child is unreasonably fast and tricky

damn

what now?

baby Tobirama returns home absolutely furious with himself. he can't believe he fell asleep!!! of all things! yeah he was exhausted and yeah he was snuggled up in warm comforting chakra but to fall asleep in enemy territory! he's so mad at himself. it was stupid and it was reckless and it was incredibly selfish of him to risk such a thing when his family, his clan, need him and- (continues telling himself off for like, 3 hours, until his brothers eventually manage to distract him from his horrible mood)

he doesn't return to Uchiha lands for ages after that. but he does, eventually, return

he isn't spotted every time he sneaks onto Uchiha lands, far from it, maybe one time in twenty or less, but it definitely happens enough times that they must know there's a little red-eyed child who keeps skulking around their territory and then bolting whenever he's spotted. oops. regardless he's very stressed and very sad because one of his little brothers is now gone (I kind of want this to be an au where his brother lives but is now stuck in an arranged marriage/learning to be a diplomat in the capital or smth, but regardless of how Kawamara is gone now and baby Tobirama is very sad abt it) and despite how many times they've spotted him, none of the Uchiha have actually managed to catch him yet, so he deems it worth the risk. (he maybe is not thinking incredibly rationally rn and just willfully disregarding anything against what he wants to do. give him a break his life sucks rn let him have this one thing)

meanwhile the Uchiha are like. where is this tiny Blessed child coming from/going to and why does he keep running away from us? like okay we know there's some horrendous rumours abt what we do with Blessed and we can't correct those rumours bc doing so risks others using Blessed against us but like....if that was the reason this kid was running from us then surely either he'd be trying to hide his features or he'd stop sneaking onto our land?

.....maybe he's not worried abt us noticing there's a Blessed child on our lands. he doesn't seem TOO bothered by us getting glimpses of him in the relative distance after all. so...he doesn't want us to see him close up? why?

..maybe he's like, really obviously from a neutral/enemy clan or something when you get a better look at him? hmmm

maybe he'll let us talk to him/catch him eventually if we keep trying. I mean it doesn't seem like he plans to stop sneaking onto our lands and WE'RE certainly not going to stop so surely its only a matter of time before he realises that if we wanted to actually hurt him we absolutely could have been throwing jutsu or weapons at him from this distance or senbons laced with sedatives or-

(should we do that instead actually? hit the kid with a sedative, deal with the rest later?

no, then we might permanently fuck over any chance of him ever trusting us and that would make helping/protecting/integrating him SO much harder

urgh. you're right I guess. okay)

anyway. maybe the little Blessed kid will relax eventually

(Tobirama does not relax eventually)

they've fallen into a frustrating stalemate in which Tobirama will fairly frequently lurk around Uchiha lands and occasionally an Uchiha will spot him and halfheartedly attempt to catch him, only to fail because Tobirama is unreasonably fast (....part of me wants to start spouting my mokuton secondary agenda again here to explain his Speed) and also they're trying not to hurt him in any way which makes it a lot harder

Tobirama has technically relaxed somewhat in that he's now significantly less worried about the prospect of the Uchiha hurting or catching him (as long as he's obviously red-eyed and absent any Senju mon, at least, all bets are off on missions/battlefields) and has as a result started to a) gradually creep further into Uchiha lands each time bc hey if the Uchiha aren't too much of a threat then it's better to be within the patrols who would stop any bandits or rogue shinobi right? and b) has started wandering off to Uchiha lands whenever he feels like it instead of just when he's near his breaking point. like now whenever he has a free moment he's like 'hmmmm do I want to spend time fucking about with research or with Touka/brothers or do I want to go chakra bathe' and they're all weighed up near equally in his mind

(assuming that said free moment would also give him the time/cover/distraction needed for him to reach Uchiha lands and back without Butsuma noticing, ofc. he isn't stupid nor does he have a death wish. That Man assuming he'd gone traitor would be.............bad.)

so I mean the Uchiha were sort of right in assuming he'd relax once he realised they weren't incredibly intent on hurting/catching him. they were just wrong in hoping he'd relax ENOUGH to let them catch/talk to him

they're very disappointed. however they're also cautiously pleased that the Blessed child has not stopped coming back over and over again, and also that he is gradually coming further into their lands and two months ago when some (significantly less welcome) trespasser turned up and tried to attack the kid he even ran to an Uchiha patrol for help! Admittedly he didn't say anything, or stick around after, but hey he at least trusts them a tiny bit to go to them for help against an enemy, right? Progress! It might take a billion years at this rate but they WILL win over the Blessed kid eventually!

at this point it's been like, at least two years since Tobirama was first spotted. probably significantly more. the stalemate truly is getting a bit ridiculous but neither party is willing to break it for fear it would end badly (and probably specifically end badly for Tobirama/little Blessed child, realistically. given he's a small child and they're an entire clan whose land he is trespassing on, there's v few ways they could break the stalemate which wouldn't risk - at best - the kid simply never returning again or at worst the the kid/Tobirama dying or living but hating+distrusting the Uchiha forever or Tobirama getting kidnapped and suffering [unspecified bad fate bc Tobirama doesnt know which rumours may be accurate but he hates them all])

eventually, fucking years later (I'm imagining Tobirama somewhere between 11 and 16 but truly can't pin it down further it depends if/what plot I include later in this theoretical fic) the stalemate does get broken, but not exactly by choice

Tobirama was on a mission and fairly badly injured. not enough that he's at risk of dying, unless he does something truly incredibly stupid + fucks up his own condition further, but he's in a lot of pain, his adrenaline is sky high, and he generally had a shitty time on the mission. he completed it successfully- barely - but it sucked and he's pretty miserable at the moment. he knows what he SHOULD do is go home and report to the healing hall to be fixed up and then go recount the mission (and his many failures/perceived failures on said mission) to Butsuma but.

but.

he doesn't want to do that

to put it mildly

anyway, the Uchiha is significantly closer than his own clan due to the direction the mission led him in, and he's exhausted and hurt, and his disguise is compromised..

(if it's something physical like a mask/contacts/dyed hair/etc then he lost it on mission or it got washed out due to how So Many Things Happened. if it's something chakra based like a jutsu or seal then he's too low on chakra and too hurt/distracted to maintain it)

...so trying to get all the way past the Uchiha, in his Senju armour but clearly a red-eyed child, when he's too exhausted and injured to guarantee he could succeed in doing so, would be a really bad idea, right? right. like they'd probably see him at best and then they'd know there was a red-eyed Senju kid and far more realistically they'd successfully catch or kill him in this state

so obviously it makes more sense for him to discard everything that marks him as a Senju, whilst he's still conscious+has the chakra to seal it away surreptitiously, and then go nap on Uchiha lands until he's recovered enough to make it home safely

yeah, that's a good idea. he'll do that

(tbf this is a fairly decent tactic but he's also trying to convince himself because when the options are 'soak up the most wonderful chakra he's ever felt and have a nap safely on territory he knows he probably won't be hurt on' or 'go home and get horribly mistreated by Butsuma for doing so badly on a mission before he even gets a chance to rest' he knows which one he wants to pick)

so Tobirama discards his armour and most of his equipment (urgh why is the Senju mon on EVERYTHING he complains to himself) and seals it away, making sure said seal also isn't at all obvious. all the moving he has to do to get this done really sucks because ow. injuries. most of them aren't that bad, a lot of surface wounds, and none of them are fatal, but OW moving so much aggravates almost all of them

this more or less just leaves him in pants, an undershirt, shoes and a kunai pouch. it's....Not A Lot and the paranoia and vulnerability is prickling at him even once he's within Uchiha patrols on their lands and he keeps trying to assure himself he's safe there but it's not working. he's hurt and exhausted and he barely has any chakra left and now he's not even wearing his armour or most of his weapons and he doesn't USUALLY wear his armour on Uchiha lands but he's also usually wearing more and NOT INJURED and more heavily armed and-

to appease his panic so he can actually rest like he'd intended to, instead of just kind of hanging around or scaling some branches/outcropping, he instead finds a tree that has a small burrow at the roots, just big enough for him to fit and evidently not currently in use by whatever animal made it, and curls up in there. he's careful of course not to let any open wounds meet the dirt, that's just asking for infection - thankfully his pants are long and his undershirt has long sleeves, so he just has to curl his hands up in his sleeves and ensure his head is cushioned on the lightweight cloak that thankfully had no clan mon on it - but he feels a lot safer when he's hidden away in an enclosed space

he reaches out to the warm-spice-passion chakra signatures within the Uchiha compound, shifts a bit for the comfiest position he can find in his little hiding place, and finally feels able to relax for the first time since that horrible mission started

there. safe

he falls asleep

meanwhile a Uchiha patrol has found spots of blood and a lot of scuffed up footsteps along their border, plus one spot that's just, a mess of leaf litter and kicked up moss (Tobirama tripped over a tree root when trying to take his chest plate off, immediately felt irrationally angry about it, and kicked at the stupid root to get it back. he then felt stupid himself and pretended it didn't happen. the rest of the mess is bc he was p carelessly dumping his shit on the floor before sealing it away) and they're concerned about it

is this from a fight?? no signs of jutsu tho, or discarded weaponry....hm. at the very least, someone was injured and (given that as far as this patrol knows, all their clan members are accounted for or shouldn't have returned from their missions yet) probably also trespassing

better go investigate

so they do and they find....that's a Blessed. that's the same Blessed that keeps wandering onto their lands, and he's asleep in a fucking hole and bleeding everywhere. oh shit. also where the hell is his shirt?? that is not a proper over-shirt that is underclothing what-

ah fuck what do they do

ah fuck

they know they're supposed to help this Blessed but they also know that a) he's scared of them for some reason. possibly bc he may technically be an enemy to their clan? they have no proof but its a persistent theory over the years and b) he's definitely a shinobi there's no way he could have outran that trespasser without training nor ended up in some of the ridiculous places he's been (hello?? tiny Blessed?? why are you 30 feet up a tree) without the ability to tree-walk

so like. they want to just take him back to their healing halls or something, but if they try that they'll probably just scare the shit out of him and he'd likely hurt them - and more crucially - himself in trying to get away

so they probably shouldn't do that. but they also can't just leave him injured in a hole. he's a Blessed! they can't leave him like this!

what do they do??

they have a quiet argument/discussion and ultimately determine that some of them will stay guarding the injured Blessed and some(one) will run back to the compound to firstly explain what's happened + that someone else needs to take over their patrol route and secondly gather what medical supplies they can spare and bring those back here

when the assigned shinobi returns with the supplies they end up accidentally waking the Blessed, which unfortunately immediately confirms their worries because he freaks the fuck out. he seems to want to run but swiftly determines he couldn't get out of the fucking hole + past them without them letting him, and instead twists with a pained hiss, bringing his hands up to hide his face and build as much as possible

which is interesting. he doesn't go to hide his hair, nor specifically to hide the red eyes that mark him as Blessed, no he goes to hide other potential identifiers....which kind of suggests he is indeed from an enemy clan. hm. damn. doesn't make him any less a Blessed but oh boy that may complicate things later on

(hc for the purposes of this fic that as a kid/early teen Tobirama looked fairly generically (mainline) Senju, apart from his colouring, and it wasn't until mid teens when he got a massive growth spurt and his face started changing more that he began to look more like his (outclan) mother and taller+slimmer+narrower than the average Senju, with pointer facial features, and just generally look a lot less like Butsuma+less obviously Senju)

the Uchiha silently and unanimously agree that this would go better if he DIDN'T feel like the wounded cornered animal he currently is, so they get the fuck out of the way. they don't go too far away, still within view, but they make sure the Blessed has a clear run out of the hole and off/away, if he wants. they also ensure that the medical supplies are very visible within that cleared space

a minute or so later they're rewarded when the Blessed stops cowering, and shoots past them faster than they would have believed possible. he takes the medical supplies on his dash past though - victory! woo!

they have a little discussion whilst they wait for him to get whatever he feels is a safe distance away, and decide that yeah that behaviour definitely indicates he thinks some sort of familial resemblance or something is a) noticable and b) gives him reason to fear the Uchiha's discovery of such. so. probably from an enemy clan

but...he's Blessed, and he hasn't tried to hurt any of them or actually get far enough into their territory to spy, or anything like that at all as far as they've noticed, so...?

plausible deniability, they decide. plausible deniability is going to be the name of the game, here

they'll just pretend not to notice he's present/a potential threat and hopefully he'll pretend right back

(also, interestingly, when they send someone to try and follow after the Blessed from a distance, they find that he hasn't bolted away from Uchiha lands as he has every time previously he was spotted. as they expected him to do now, when he's probably feeling cornered and threatened as well as being injured. no, instead he's stayed well within the area the Uchiha patrol (if anything he's actually gone further within Uchiha territory which, what?) and has found another substandard hiding place in which he's using the offered medical supplies to clean and tend to what injuries he can, and then he actually goes to sleep right there. he leaves when he wakes up a few hours later, and they don't try to stop him - REALLY not the time - but. hm. interesting)

anyway that whole encounter pretty thoroughly breaks the stalemate

after that, the Uchiha clan (specifically their patrols) and Tobirama somehow develop a whole new dynamic which honestly is almost identical to the Uchiha attempting to gradually befriend and lure a feral cat into their home, meanwhile Tobirama gradually starts leaving metaphorical dead mice on their doorstep

it's...yeah, it's really weird, actually, but. it's working?? so??

#i want to expand on this bc i have more to say but im getting a migraine from lack of food and sleep so uhhh i'll come back to this #my own posts #senju tobirama #uchiha clan #blessed stray cat au #<- may as well call it smth if i intend on coming back to it i figure #also mentions to my other idea of #mokuton primary + secondary

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delight-angelsbliss · 3 days ago

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Don't you notice how I get quiet when there's no one else around?

Heh I wanted to post this sooner but here we are

welcome to my February valentines special that will go on for the full duration of February!!

You may choose a prompt and Character from my list and request<3 this is actually my first ever special/event I'm doing lol S1 prompts from 1 - 11 are by @/novelbear they're really cool and have amazing prompts (^-^) there also inconsistent small and large texts so it's actually readable cuz it gets cut off sometimes lol!! I'd also recommend that when requesting u say which Season ur prompt is from for example "S1 nr 4 with ___" u can also request up to 3 prompts in one! I'll try my best to use it all<3 everything can be requested as platonic!! Edit: can you guys please specify gender and if it should be hcs or not? As much information as possible would be nice and helps alot

S1 Cute scenarios<3

Spending all day watching cute crafts and baking to do

Rom com marathon!!

Trying (and maybe) failing to make food heart shaped

Realizing you both have contrasting views on valentines

"Baby, I love you, really, but if I eat one more piece of chocolate I'll throw up"

Making the same reservations at the same time but different restaurants and/or the same one

"I thought you'd at least ask me to be my valentines" "we've been together for years, I thought that was a given"

Both not caring much abt valentines but get dragged to a double date by friends

"How much did this cost?" "Does that really matter?"

Spending the night walking through the city silently

Begging your partner to get matching sweaters until they say yes

Buying couple shirts and deciding the whole day which one to wear that u completely forgot ur date

Not leaving bed at all

Going to the carnival

Double dates

Confessing with a love letter

first kiss together on your first valentines

getting proposed on valentines

Picking grapes together

Making heart cake pops and eating them but they fall down

"I think I deserve a kiss"

"You didn't have to do all of this!" "Yeah, which is why I did it for you"

"I wish everyday could be like this"

"Is it just me or do your lips look softer than usual?"

"We don't have to go out"

"I can never get enough of of how pretty you look"

Ordering in and watching crime action series

"You remembered?" "Of course I did, I love you"

Trying to do pilates together only to fail miserably

Writing a love letter only to throw it away but they find it

S2 Yandere scenarios!:

"I just got some very wise advice from a wise woman..." U can ask more abt this btw and I'll explain a bit more what I mean with this

"Gosh, you smell so good when we cuddle like this"

"Do you think I enjoy punishing you?! I don't!"

"Tell me how much you love me"

"I'm jealous of the way you are happy with them but not me"

"This world is a ugly place, you're too beautiful for it"

"I know I'm sick in the head, but you'll be my cure"

"I love it when we're so close together like this"

"Of course I'm jealous! You're mine, not theirs!"

"Dont you get it? I would die for you if you asked me to"

"Your skin is so soft"

"I just love the last souvenir of your eye so much that I'd like the other one please"

"I could kill you if I wanted to"

"I live for you, you're like my oxygen"

"If you run, I'll break your legs"

જ⁀➴ ♡ Matchups

I actually do match ups which isn't really known cuz it's in my rules and dni lol but I do make matchups in case anyone wants one<3 this was added on 20:37 on 4th of February which is a bit later than this was posted

For a match up I need as much information as possible it's also allowed in a platonic form

If there's a preferred age range and gender

Hobbies

Likes

Dislikes

Special interests

And more would be needed (^-^)

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zith-ipeth · 2 days ago

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A dog came into the shop today, his name was Maximus

This is a post about transandrophobia and man hating platitudes

I’ve been sitting around the edge of this discourse because I have stakes and traumas in it, but idk, fuck it, it shouldn’t be discourse.

I see a lot of comparisons between humanity and our canine cousins, it helps me understand modern politics and social issues. This post might not make sense, if I say things that are harmful, I do not mean it. And please for the love of all that is holy correct me, public or private, I’m learning, and making mistakes

—————————

When I was younger, a member of my aunts family, a large mutt named Hunter, jumped on me in a playful gesture, he was about as big as I was at 9 years old, and all muscle. He knocked me over and left a massive claw mark on my stomach. He was a fantastic dog, excitable, very cuddly, loved to play with his siblings. This isn’t to say he was perfect, no one is, he got aggressive, and has barked and bit people before

This can happen with rescues, turns out abuse can often create animals that cuase harm because that’s what they know

No one is one dimensional

In middle school, I was sexually assaulted, emotionally abused and manipulated by a trans boy my age, we were both young, far too young. I can’t say he was nice man, when we grew up he refused to acknowledged any of the harm he had caused, and caused further harm as he got older. But at the time, I knew that what happened wasn’t a cold calculated process, he was too young to have learned this from anything other than abuse that happened onto him

This can happen with trans folks, turns out abuse can often create people that cause harm because that’s what they know

But no one is one dimensional…

———————

Tumblr has been having this whole moment with transandrophobia/transmisandry, it’s, a lot. And for some reason I thought as all this was happening, that my beliefs about it would be kinda, one sided.

Cis men are violent and “bad” due to masculinity: I’ve seen this a thousand times, first and second hand, I’ve felt it, in the shaking hand of a girl sobbing and I’ve felt it as bruises on my abdomen, left by boys older than me.

Trans men are violent and “bad” due to masculinity: I’ve felt this, I’ve been hurt by this, in a way that broke me down in a way nothing else has

But I still felt, off, about it

Mostly because like, yeah, masculinity can be bad and scary, this is true. But it’s not one dimensional like that, masculinity can be amazing too, masculine cis men have saved my ass from being bullied in school more times than I can count.

No one is one dimensional

Also, misandry, even separate from transness, IS REAL, I was a guy for a long time, I felt it. My friend, who was cis, felt it, and still feels it. They have trouble making friends in college because people view them as a threat, due to their masculinity, that’s a real problem

And that problem is multiplied by the intersection of transness

And like yeah, it’s not as societally pervasive as misogyny, but even if it’s small, it’s still there, and still hurts people

I have every excuse to perceive trans men as violent and evil, and yeah, sometimes men, and often trans men, get scary to me, cuase it clicks a response in my brain. But I’m also an adult, and know that I share community with my cis and trans masc allies.

And somthing interesting about the boy who assaulted me, is how fast people were to take away his transness, my friends started using his old names, using dehumanizing pronouns he didn’t use, saying that it was “man behavior”. He’s a trans man, he was a bad person, those arnt connected, and one shouldn’t effect the other, being perceived as the gender you are isn’t a “reward” for good behavior. he was an asshole, and a liar, but he was man.

I get how one can be scared when someone is part of a group when someone in that identity group hurt you, but learning to love those people is incredibly fulfilling, and is something you must do as a trans ally

The relationships with men, trans and cis, I’ve had have been some of the most fun, flirtatious and physically/mentally stimulating relationships I’ve ever had

——————

Today at the pet supply shop I work at, a dog named Maximus came in

Massive, maybe 115 pound mastiff, clipped ears, docked tail, golden chain collar. His person was a built man, shaved head, full beard.

They came in for a self serve bath, and when they left, Maximus was wagging the nub of his tail, tapping his paws and whining, smelling all the amazing smells in the store. I got down to his level to pet him, and he jumped on me, playfully. His size made the visual of him jumping on me a little scary, but the kisses made it a lot better

No one is one dimensional

—————

Trans men face unique transphobia, if that bothers you, fuck off. If you want to demonize a trans man for shit they didn’t even do, for shit that other men have done, fuck off.

Judge people for who they are, not for who they might be, I don’t give a shit how scary a man looks, try and understand them regardless

I love dogs, and sometimes they’re scary, but that’s something I need to work through

I love men, and sometimes they’re scary, but that’s somthing I need to work through.

Run fast, bite hard, bark loud

Peace love and gratitude

-Zith Ipeth

#I don’t know if I phrased this all the right way #but we need to love all of our trans siblings #get real transfem separationists #transmasc #transandrophobia #transfem #tw sa mention #so idk

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damnfandomproblems · 15 hours ago

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Fandom Problem #7410:

Those people are playing with fictional dollies in a corner of the internet where blocking and ignoring has long been a thing. If you're in a position where seeing a pair of fictional drawings kissing will give you psychic damage AND you can't ignore it after rolling your eyes or making an "ew" face (something people often but don't expand on because why bother?), maybe that's your problem, not other peoples', and you should avoid those tags etc, like the rest of us. It's also very telling that people in certain fandoms are totally okay with certain kinds of abusive ships, but simply go after people writing the "wrong" kinds of abusive ship, but as soon as any other kinds of ships are present, they will flip out. They'll yell at someone for shipping the Lannisters, while concurrently reposting fanart of Will bleeding to death where Hannibal, who has a knife in his pocket suggesting he did the deed, is holding him adoringly. Drawing gore is somehow fine, but a ship where the characters are eighteen and nineteen is the devil's spawn, even though both in real life are bad, and on paper, neither character is being harmed. They are concepts, dollies, not real people.

Like, "bad ship" has no meaning - it's become a stupid matter of "my fictional thing is fine, yours crosses the line, even though technically, it's just as bad, or not bad at all" because... It's all. Bloody. Fiction. Yet nobody's going to bat an eyelash if someone watches the Saw movies, or if someone is a horror aficionado and loves horror movies in general, but so many people, especially younger kids, have issues with sexual content in particular. It's just a rebrand of Christian puritanism and moral paranoia. Everything and everyone is a pedo to them. They look at new media through the lens of "I must ensure this show, person, etc isn't a pedo". Yeah, there are creepy people on the internet, some people get off on certain stuff. It doesn't mean everyone who draws an age gap ship is a creep - just like how everyone who likes gore isn't a murderer, even though there are, indeed, people who get off on murder. There are kinks for literally everything. I mean, there's an entire website devoted to celebrity feet for Christ's sakes. But for some reason, nobody ever looks at fictional depictions of non-sexual abuse (or even anything else), and wonders if someone is getting off on that. But a lot of people still are. Nothing is sacred.

If someone is posting graphic content of something in a tag, they should be tagging it. With scenarios like that, MAYBE (emphatically) you could make a case for it being "harmful". But even then, this is the internet. Fandom spaces are not like Club Penguin, they do not have a responsibility to assume the burden of parenting or making someone's individual choices for them or clearing out as soon as a minor is in the space, and there's an inherent knowledge that we all will, at some point, run into things that gross us out because fandom spaces are a melting pot of different ideas.

And you have a right to be grossed out by a lot of stuff. There's a lot of disturbing, weird, icky shit out there. But it's not about harassing the people who make it, who have shown no signs of actually being a bad person. It's about putting the onus on yourself, like an adult, to avoid the content. There's no use in self-harming by seeking stuff out, going into certain tags, etc when there's a high chance you'll see something that squicks you. Because at the end of the day, you are responsible for your own content consumption and browsing, and you are responsible for understanding the risks of being in certain spaces. If someone is unable to understand this, and cannot exercise self-control, they shouldn't be in those spaces, possibly online at all.

Signed, a very, very bone-tired fandomgoer of 40+ years.

#ask box submission #fandom problem 7410 #shipping problems

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daisyswift3 · 2 days ago

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The tortured poets were quite clever to intentionally throw in red herrings like the 12/13/24 and Friday the 13th hints making us think the mass coming out would happen end of 2024. But us falling for these red herrings was all part of the story. I realized the 🫚 message abt the volunteer and the magic show was abt us true fans (the volunteer) falling for these red herrings while solving the secret/story of us puzzle. See my tags on this post ⬇️

“Be as clever as a god translating seeds of hope” message + the volunteer who gets bitten by a snake message -> The tortured poets knew us gaylors w good pattern recognition would take the bait and think the “12 (Dec), 34 (Taylor’s age in 2024)” and birthday cakes were easter eggs for a mass coming out either on 12/13/24 or 12/31/24 and we did take the bait (we were bitten by the snake). But then on New Years nothing happened (the box was lifted and the phone was left untouched). BUT this was all by design. For some reason they needed us to fall for the red herrings and spread the dandelion seeds. I think they might be using our falling for the red herrings to throw off SB^2 and the other ppl trying to thwart them so that the mass coming out goes exactly as planned.

“Be as clever as a god translating seeds of hope” = every bait and switch was a work of art. Seeds = secrets or the secret of us (5th and 7th 🎃 message). We did solve most of the puzzle correctly, it was just the timing that was off. They gave us some crumbs of hope abt the mass coming out or revolution but cleverly threw in red herrings.

I think the 1, 2 see what they drew 🫚 message was actually meant for this yr and that the Halloween (Oct = 10 = turn of the decade) when the final act ends is actually this yrs’ Halloween. I think the laying it on thick in June of last yr w 🏈 was a red herring bc Taylor knows we have very good pattern recognition and she needed to throw us off the trail a bit so that her enemies didn’t catch onto her plan and the exact timing. She’s keeping everyone on their toes bc again every bait and switch was a work of art and she can’t be thwarted again. And the midnights vinyl clock is for this yr as well where each quarter is the rough outline of her plan (each hr represents each month of the yr). I think this is actually what Taylor was referring to when she said she was going to try to hint at sth 3 yrs in advance; Midnights was released Oct 2022 so 3 yrs later is Oct 2025 (11th 🎃 message abt returning home from exile on Halloween). And the For now she slumbers poem abt the breadcrumbs relates to the SNL skit abt Sabrina queer signaling. They leave breadcrumbs or small easter eggs and then loaves of bread or big ones. It feels like we’re being strung along bc that’s exactly what’s happening. They’re breadcrumbing us and giving us just enough hints to be able to see the true story in the background but also some red herrings so that it discredits us and we just look insane and not too many ppl fall down the rabbit hole.

The ides of March ♠️ riddle is for March of this yr and sth big is going to happen maybe KK’s divorce announcement (🌋 “heartbreak is loss. divorce is a piece of paper.” … crumble it up and toss it. burn it, if you must). This 🌋 message was received on 11/9 and there have been a lot of 911 hints. I think the PR PR PR PUBLISH 🎁 message means Taylor will do all the work of bearding and ruining her reputation so that KK will look like a saint when she comes back into Taylor’s life again. That’s how the ♠️ riddles started out so I think they will reuse that same PR strategy (the 2019 mastersheist ruined her initial plans -> the FUCKx13 07/01/2019 ♠️ riddle). Karlie will get a divorce in March and then they will rekindle their friendship which is what will start Taylor’s fall from grace. Plus the ides of March is when Julius Caesar was assassinated in Shakespeare’s play and his last words in the play are “Then fall, Caesar” which matches w all the fall/autumn and falling from the pedestal easter eggs. I think swifties (non-gaylors) are the ones who will metaphorically assassinate Taylor once they realize she’s been lying to them this whole time. This is also why Taylor was Marie Antoinette in the bejeweled mv (Marie was beheaded during the French REVOLUTION).

And I think Taylor is gonna keep teasing rep and debut so that swifties are distracted by that (🎃 and 🫚 messages abt the chess game and magic and “reputation is illusion, expectation the magician”). All magic tricks work bc of sleight of hand where the magician does sth showy w one hand (PR/bearding/red herrings/debutation easter eggs) while making the real moves w the other hand (The Secret/Story of Us, the cracks in the facade widening into a chasm). I think the fall from grace starts this spring (break) and ends in the actual fall (9, 10 the final act ends).

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 The New Year midnight is nearly upon us. As we March into the sunset, 2022 is not the only thing that will expire at midnight. A fresh page…a new chapter. Au revoir, à bientôt en tournée. - December 30, 2022

-> March being capitalized in this message is another indicator that sth big will happen in March.

I think ivy is the key to knowing the timing bc it mentions the crescent moon and “spring break” so March. And that matches with the 2nd 🎃 message. So I think the fall/autumn stuff was kind of a red herring (they wanted us to think sth would happen fall 2024) and that it’s referring more to a metaphorical fall(ing down) that starts in the spring or early summer.

2nd 🎃 message (“The time draws near, springtime sunshine causing small drips and fractures”) = falling through the ice (the bolter) or falling from grace = (spring break)s loose = March = house burning down. Also ivy has the burning house metaphor and obviously that connects to the lover house in the eras tour which symbolizes her willingly burning down her entire career. And I think this connects to that 2020 Spotify wrapped video that had March highlighted.

Lastly, Gracie has a March apparently playlist which has some very interesting songs. I’ve been following her playlists and I believe they are a giant easter egg that supplement the riddles and messages.

Swimming -> Taylor diving into the stage and swimming to the Midnights era; Gracie’s Risk “God, I'm jumpin' in the deep end, It's more fun to swim in, Heard the risk is drownin', but I'm gonna take it” (this song is abt the tortured poets risking everything for the revolution and also abt us true fans going off the deep end believing this conspiracy theory bc we’re so invested in it)

Early To The Party -> ♠️ “Ides of March, they say beware but prior till the day unveils, one or two may see right through, the nine that sit in its view.” - 1/30/2020. I believe Karlie is the 9 because she was the one who carried their kids and pregnancy lasts 9 months -> all the messages and easter eggs abt pregnancy, “pregnant with possibility” (x)(x); plus the eras tour ended with 9 Canada shows and Taylor started a countdown on night 1 that ended on night 9 (x)(x)(x)(x)(x) -> Karlie’s It’s the Final Countdown Spotify playlist + “Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. And also…hello!” 👋 + “Endings are beginnings…A new era to flourish and thrive.” And this relates back to the 911 easter eggs. 9 = 🤰and 11 = K (11th letter of the alphabet) for KK

Daisy -> this is pretty self explanatory 🌼

Don’t Delete The Kisses -> “all of the letters - addressed to you and sealed with a kiss”; Sabrina Carpenter (who is one of the main characters in this story) releasing her Short n Sweet album with all the kisses💋 and having them all over her body on tour (x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

Ariana’s eternal sunshine album -> Wicked/The Wizard of Oz/Goodbye Yellow Brick Road/Karma mv

At Seventeen -> 17 yr old boy named James (Taylor)

Hey Nineteen -> Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve which is an allegory abt how the music industry forced her into the closet around 19 yrs old

🌋 it’s been a while. don’t worry, i didn’t forget about you. all of the letters - addressed to you and sealed with a kiss - have been resting on the pillow that used to be yours. maybe i should’ve addressed them to the fire, like i said i would …

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milklovesbyler · 2 days ago

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HOW AND WHY AND WHEN DID THE BYLER REALISATION HIT ME - RANT

okay this is long so skip to S4 section for the more interesting stuff/when i found out about byler!

hii okay my first post on this blog! im still pretty new to tumblr but learned that u can have multiple blogs and my mind is blown. i also have an art blog i post on once a millenia @milkymetari !

Ive been a stranger things fan since 2019 when i was 13!

So i started watching stranger things in 2019 after season 3 had came out and the series peaked my interest, ive always been a fan of scifi stuff and oh boy stranger things is so cool and (mostly) well written!

When i say i LOVED mileven im not kidding, I WAS OBSESSED. On the outside theyre a picture perfect cute teenage couple, and my idealisation of that (and cmon guys eleven is like the coolest character ever) and els badassness and powers, i loved mileven.

I mean as a concept their relationship is really cute if we read it as that but yeah i do NOT ship them anymore like that 😭

Yeah i remember myself sometimes wondering about the weird things in their relationship (the way they dont share almost any interests, only kiss and mikes weird actions) but i think due to heteronormativity (toxic ships are wayy too normalized also in lgbt media) and how poorly usually female characters (but in this case mike lmao) and their relationships are written in media so i guess i had just grown to try not to care, and yeah i was just 13.

So honestly i didnt see/know byler back then AT ALL! I grew up as a semi homophobic kid because thats what i was taught, but around the time i started watching ST i grew as a person a lot and i realised maybe my ass isnt as straight as i thought ☠️ Honestly wish i did know about byler since i think seeing mikes struggles (and wills) wouldve helped me a lot! 💔

I didnt think too deeply about any media i consumed at that age, and i was already used to just not care about bad writing so i thought flaws in mileven were normal writing mistakes etc. Or how the byler fight was clearly more intense than the mileven break up 😭😭

But again i did not catch onto it.

ST 4 in 2022!!

So the year is 2022 and i excitesly watch season 4 part 1. I usually try to avoid spoilers etc on the internet so i kept myself away from st tiktok and other platforms. After i finished it i saw like a shit ton of edits of all the characters and speculation about the last 2 eps.. THEN somewhere around that time it happened, i stumbled upon byler.

okay first, i need to talk about mileven a bit, the first few episodes it was sweet, but it was obvious el was lying and unhappy, i was hoping that mike would grow and learn to be a better boyfriend and theyd end up back together.

so about byler, first i thought it was like any other ship as usual and i wasnt as blind to homoerotic chemistry anymore so it wasnt anything new or surpricing.

well, what was surpricing was HOW FUCKING BLIND I HAD BEEN TO HOW MIKE AND WILL ACTED

i mean i was confused while watching part 1 for the first time but closeness between the two was nothing unusual, and mike lashing out on will had already happened in s3 too, but yeah i was so flabbergasted and embarrased how i hadnt noticed 😭 like girl, the lip staring, yearning gazes and awkward conversations

down the rabbit hole i went and hehe😈 i got my bestie into it too and she was like omg ur so right we both agree they are endgame bbecause like theres so much evidence its not a coincidence.

ill probably make a separate post on some of the genious thoughts we had about mileven and byler in 2022 lol

i hope someone read this all, thank you <3

#byler #byler awakening #stranger things #anti mileven #random rants #idc if no1 sees thus #2022 was the best summer of my life ive ever have i fear

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thewitcheslist · 3 days ago

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I dislike the phrase "traditional witchcraft" in a language and cultural studies kind of way because like... Do y'all mean witch-cult? 'Cuz Margaret has been discredited over and over and over again.

Do you mean Wicca? Cuz that started in '54; as far as world religion, it's practically an infant. (Author bias note: I was raised in a Wiccan Cult from ages 2 to 12)

Do y'all mean Cochrane's craft? Cuz she was literally a High Priestess of Gardner's Bricket Wood Coven (Which would make her an exWiccan or make it a denomination of Wicca instead of a completely separate faith)

Well, maybe you mean Feri? Nope. That is widely considered a denomination of Wicca too, even by those who practice it.

Crooked Path/Sabbatic? Andrew Chumbley started practicing witchcraft in the 90s, his teachings are patchwork made of Tantra, voodoo, and Christ.ian doctrine... And imo, Christ.ianity is definitely not where witchcraft originated... AND it is also considered a denomination of Wicca by scholars but considered a completely separate religion by practitioners

Thelema was started by a very very rich Englishman after he was apparently visited by the Egyptian god Horus and a disembodied voice called Aiwass in 1907 which would make it the oldest in my list here, but the majority of the scholarly writing on Traditional Witchcraft I could find doesn't include Thelema and it is considered a separate New Religious Movement (NRM) entirely.

Britannica defines traditional as

1 a : based on a way of thinking, behaving, or doing something that has been used by the people in a particular group, family, society, etc., for a long time : following the tradition of a certain group or culture b : typical or normal for something or someone : having the qualities, beliefs, etc., that are usual or expected in a particular type of person or thing 2 based on old-fashioned ideas : not new, different, or modern

This definition feels fuzzy to me, because Neopaganism is definitely new and modern, right? That's what the prefix Neo- means

The only (reputable, published scholarly *) sources I can find basically sum up Traditional Witchcraft as just Wiccan. I have found some (published) sources saying it isn't Wicca, but they are far fewer in number and are religious works, not academic.

I am not a religious scholar. But Neopagan seems to be a much more accurate word to describe these organized practices -- Or does the existence of a Hierarchy and religious leaders makes it "traditional."

And... Neopagan is a very very very broad term, making it somewhat impractical to use as a label when looking for your communities/learning resources/supplies

In my search for information I found this quote from Kelden Mercury, author of The Crooked Path: Introduction to Traditional Witchcraft

“Traditional Witchcraft is an umbrella term that covers a vast array of non-Wiccan practices that are inspired by folklore. These practices may be viewed as religious or spiritual depending upon the group or individual practitioner. Traditional Witches focus on the use of magic, connecting with the natural landscape, and working with various spirits in both the physical realm and the Otherworld.”

But 1) every single other source I'm finding is calling it a branch of Wicca - because the core values originated within Wicca. And 2) it isn't traditional if every practitioner does it differently and 3) What folk lore? There's a lot. I don't know which culture is being referred to here 4) this sent me down a secondary metaphorical rabbit hole to find what "The Otherworld" is, because my only prior knowledge was from my Wiccan Coven upbringing, and in this context, I'm being told we are definitely not talking about Wicca - but we are getting off topic

I have come across one paper grouping all the practices I listed in this post together as "contemporary traditions," and Contemporary Traditional Witchcraft is a bit of a mouthful and possibly an oxymoron but it definitely makes more sense from the perspective of this language nerd. Someone needs to write more on this from a scholarly and historical point of view and I am almost certain I am far too undereducated to do it.

And now, I'm super hyper fixated on the cultural impact of various NRMs, Neopaganism, and modern religion in the west. I cannot afford more student loans but I desperately want to learn more. I might audit some classes just for the hell of it honestly. This is so fascinating at this point. Why isn't this stuff getting studied yet? Does anyone know Ethan Doyle White? Can you give him my email address? (this is a joke, he probably doesn't want to talk to me.) Belief in witchcraft as malevolent magic has been around since ancient Mesopotamia and I can find records of that... But I want to study the cultural impact of this religious movement and there just isn't enough literature to satisfy my inquisitive nature.

Someone smart should be writing this down, because seeing how it spreads and how different groups respond to the movement as a whole could really help historians understand the very very old dead religions, and their cultural impacts.

*I want to emphasize the word Scholarly. I said SCHOLARLY and I mean it. Witchcraft is something very difficult to find historically accurate information about.

[DISCLAIMER: I'm not arguing the validity of any of these religions, nor am I saying they are bad. Religion, in my opinion, is a good thing. I like paganism. It brings me comfort. This is my brain struggling with the verbage used and lack of written history. I have absolutely no ill intent, I'm just frustrated at the lack of historical records and the limits imposed on us by the English language.]

#witchcraft #religious studies at 2 am by myself with no professors #world religions?#neo paganism #lingustics #Why is the English language the way that is is??#i love the English language but i also hate it so much #long text post #text post #queued

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