#i have so many thoughts that i think are just 'i am more oppressed in society and it bothers me that u don't have to think about this'

[so-i-did-this-thing]

I know this isn’t your usual wheelhouse, but — I’ve been wondering if you have any advice or encouragement for people who arrived late to the queer community. Like, I somehow missed out on realizing that there is more than one flavor of asexuality, and that I fell under that umbrella, until I was 36 years old. After that I started questioning my lifelong thing for women who look like they could kick my ass, but I don’t know if it’s a sexual attraction, and maybe I never will. I didn’t grow up knowing I was different from my peers (I thought everyone else was weird for being interested in sex in high school); I’ve never been discriminated against, harassed, or threatened for being who I am. In short, I feel like I don’t belong. Or I’m a fake. Like I’m intruding on a community I’m not actually part of and not wanted in. Especially on the internet, where all the kids have grown up with microlabels and seem to have been using them from a young age.

I dunno, I just tend to feel a little more alienated during June because I feel like Pride isn’t mine to celebrate.

It's unfortunate that suffering is so entwined with the current queer experience, because comparing levels of oppression often leaves little room for celebrating our natures.

Ask yourself: "Would I still seek out the queer community if oppression was no longer an issue?" For me, that answer is, "yes".

I'm bi. I'm attracted to men, but have never had a relationship with a man, much less fucked one. But I'm still bi. I like being in spaces where I can express male attraction with other men. I like experiencing how my attraction intersects with other identities that are attracted to men, be it romantically, sexually, or aesthetically. And I like being able to discuss the murky boundaries of gender envy and attraction with other mlm trans men.

I feel like my experiences as a bi man in this community aren't all that different from your exploration of being ace and whether or not you're attracted to women. It's unlikely I'll ever be in a relationship with a man, so I don't have full confirmation of this part of my identity. But it doesn't matter if there are firm answers, the questions are enough to be in this community.

As for the queer topics I'm more sure on -- I like consuming queer art and history from and with other queer people. And I like having other queer people to discuss the logistics of queer bodies, from sex to more mundane upkeep.

My experience isn't like everyone else's, but learning about how theirs intersect with mine has made me more confident in my own identity -- from the confident micro label teens to the late bloomers who transition in the senior years. The queer community generally isn't afraid to talk about itself, and that can be so, so valuable.

If you need to hear it from someone else -- I have met so many people who didn't "always know" they were some flavor of queer, especially when it comes to being ace. The language we choose to describe ourselves continues to change - the microlabels are somewhere between trend and an evolution of queer theory, but I don't think anyone has to feel obligated to use a label they aren't comfortable with. Personally, the older I get, the more I eschew labels and stick with just, "queer".

tldr; Even without oppression, queer people will continue to walk through this world differently than allo cishet folks. One of the unique hallmarks of the queer community is its take on introspection and self-actualization. You are welcome here. It's part of human nature to want to connect with folks who have similar life experiences -- just do yourself a favor and not limit yourself to trauma bonding. <3

[rustyrailways]

Everyday I wish they explored the class/house system in Piltover further so we could see just how vast the differences in economic status and quality of life exists in the city. We know there is a house system at the very least, but to what extent does it effect things?

[tumblasha]

maybe i'm just being misogynistic

because there's no reason why i shouldn't like you

because i've met people who interrupt me before

because i've met people who talk too much before

because i've met people who travel to a country and don't know the language before

and they're ... fine?

there's so many aspects that i don't like in people across the world that just happen to be compounded in you. i value my friends for being people who Listen to me [1], for being people who wouldn't cut me off when i'm trying to say something

i value natural curiosity. if you wonder something and need to know the answer, why should i be the force that stops you from asking a question?

and your job is anthropology, you're an ethnographer. you're supposed to be curious and invade ask about people's lives like this. your Job is a direct descendant of the people that take take take stories out of people's communities.

but knowledge is supposed to be shared! the job can't be all that bad right?

and it's not like boys are socialized to ask questions [2]

and i'm jealous. because i feel like i have a delay in getting to know people [3]. and you manage to make people like you because you make them talk about themselves. you're able to invite people to your birthday party in a country that you've spent six (6) weeks in because you know how to make people like you

and how could i do anything you do? i can't go to a country where i don't speak the language (guilt). i can't bring myself to care enough about new people to ask them questions about their lives. i can't do it because i get overwhelmed and i need my ipad enrichment time [4]

but lately others have been catching on. they shush you when you're speaking over the waiter. they finish their sentence when you ask a question. sometimes they don't even answer your question. they look at Me when i'm talking and i put my hand out to shush you every time you interrupt me.

maybe i'm just being misogynistic. because you're a girl who talks a lot. i'm not either. and why should you have to burden my hatred?

---

[1] i almost had a falling out with a friend in high school bc they acted in a way that showed that they didn't listen to something i said. mind you this was in my (soft spoken) era. nobody could hear me say shit

[2] it's actually Impossible to receive gossip from a man. they never ask questions! follow me for more fun facts :)

[3] historically it takes me two (2) years to find Actual Friends whenever i switch schools / cities / places

[4] everyone should play hello kitty island adventure and stardew valley

---

tl;dr: i hate people who interrupt me or ignore mre and maybe i should just get over it

[melaninfury]

Synastry Observation 🕯️

Please don't take this as astrological facts. These are more my experience and perspective. The whole chart and aspects must also be considered.

👥 As much as I love a good moon in the 11th, I do recall every person showing some sort of over interest in my longterm goals and who I am friends with. It kinds gives they feel some type of way about the friends you make or can get very personally offended by the way you go after your goals and even the community you’re in. Of course more with affliction and squares to your eighth.

👥 I always recommend if looking into synastry for families/generational curses/childhood trauma/familial bonds to look at their Lilith energy between each other. My family member who birthed me has their Lilith retrin my 12th house. I always think they are trying to have power over me subconsciously or questioning my mental health (12 house). Over all a hidden opp at times but very dedicated and nosey on what plans or how to crack your code.

👥 Saturn in the 8th house is oppressive in synastry in many ways if not balanced. I find these individuals are pocketwatchers to your debt towards them even when they give it comes with some resentment.

👥 Yes that mans venus is touching exactly on your mars, I think your attracted and may want to you know. Yes your venus is touching their mars … yes they want you or maybe they have thought about it. In context to most sexual and relationship area this aspect creates the right tension. It is not as direct as mars wanting you in the first house it is a take you out to dinner first kind of fuck you.

👥 Mars in the 1st house either wants to fuck you, compete with you or argue, fight with you or just all of the above. At some point 🤷🏾‍♀️ to some degree maybe so.

👥 Uranus in the 9th may feel estranged to your dreams/goals/ideologies. They may come from a different religion that may demonize or judge your beliefs. They feel your way of life is a revolution to their own. It either tears you down or feels welcomed by its difference.

👥 If your parent has their neptune in your 10th house of Career/Legacy/Who your parents want you to be/Your social status...I do feel for the way they project and want to control you. Very controlling of the narrative of who you want to be. They project their own failures and need to do what they never got to do. Then they hold you to a lot of standards to make sure you turn out the way they want. They want you to live the life they projected onto you at birth or really young. Weird effect of Neptune/Afflicted Neptune/Capricorn Neptune in Saturn’s House

👥 10th house synastry is superficial. If I were to say anything else. No matter the placement, they all manifest this differently but in the same energy. If someone is falling on top of your tenth house make sure your relationship isn't based on appearance or the "idea" of you and what you bring into their status (life).

👥 As much as that Moon/Mars is gonna draw you is as much as it’s gonna fuck you over....you will be annoyed by what drew you in 😬. With this synastry are you ready to be madly in love on the plight than the mars actions that disrupt or activate the hidden emotional world of the moon, make you think your not 😃. if you don’t really want to feel that feeling, tension and resistance even though this is someone you want I recommend taking that shit slow please.

👥 See my problem with 8th house energy is its attention. Your sexual partners mars or moon falling in your 8th can really make them want you in that way but it’s the house of debt and others peoples money it’s inherently shadow like and has a touch of mystery. Like stop making secret passes at that lady in the dark or giving the eyes. Stop taking someone out to eat and taking them back to your place. Stop not ignoring the urge to touch….and touch…and touch all the time. Being so goddamn intimate. Yes that shit can turn really ugly really quick. And your not gonna “die” per say from synastry like this in the house of death but when they leave or if they hurt you it’s gonna hurt just as much as it felt good in the moment. You might feel like a part if you is actually dying. But y’all stay safe out there 🙂.

👥 Jupiter in your 7th house you say…well I SAY you want that man to be your husband, that woman to be your wife, their soul to be your equal, you want that partner title with them because they fit into your world and they elevate in the way you dream. Maybe they are your dream but I think you like em a bit to much, Jupiter is an abundance is it not, for better or for worse.

©️ All rights reserved melaninfury

[pomefioredove]

@hxney-lemcn said more cater fics and I am here 2 deliver ✌️✌️

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ friends kiss, too

type of post: short fic characters: cater additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, friends 2 lovers ON TOP! a little making out

Every time Cater drags you through one of these things, you ask yourself why you let him, and every time, the answer is the same: he's your best friend, and you love him.

It's the very same reason you let him spam you with texts and annoy you with surprise selfies. It's the reason you rarely hang out with anyone else, because you know it makes him jealous, though he'd never admit that.

It's the reason you're here, now, awake in your room well past curfew.

Despite the threat of a Housewarden who would flay you alive if he caught you and Cater sneaking around in the dead hours of the night, your bestie was absolutely insistent on this all-nighter.

It's a trend on Magicam, he said, and he had, of course, pouted and whined like a sad puppy until you agreed to "support him" by keeping him awake.

By two in the morning, you were more bored than tired.

"Pass. Pass," Cater says, swiping through dating profiles on his phone. "Hm... no, pass."

You sigh and slump against the headboard of your bed. "You've said that word so many times, it doesn't sound real anymore,"

"Ughhhh. Is Sage's Island where hotties go to die? I just want a cute holiday romance!" he exclaims. "Think of the pics!"

You roll your eyes. You'd heard that exact string of words probably ten times in the past few days.

"You can't date someone just for couple photo ops,"

Cater pouts. "Oh, yes I can. I specify "nothing serious" on my profile! It's not like I'm lying!"

Another eye-roll. He's technically right, as always, which just makes you even more annoyed.

But you don't want to get into an argument about the morality of flings right now.

"And it's cold out. Who am I gonna hold when it gets even colder? It's cuffing season, hon,"

Something about the way he says that bothers you. You try not to think about it so much.

"Well, you'll always have me," you tease.

Cater giggles, and sets his phone down on the bed, a subtle way of showing you that you have his full attention now. "Oh? What's this? Sounds like you're offering,"

"Not what I meant," you counter. "I'm your bestie, not your bae."

"Boooo. What are you, a nun? Friends cuddle all the time,"

Again, he's right. He likes being right, and you can see that on him now, too. He has that competitive glow on his face.

You smile. "Sure, sure, but we all know that cuddling isn't what you're looking for,"

Cater gasps, feigning offense with a hand placed delicately over his heart. "I am not that easy! I'm starting to think you really do want me all to yourself,"

If anything, it's the other way around. Since befriending him at the start of the school year, you'd always had the feeling that he took up all your time on purpose. But you don't say that.

"Besides," he goes on. "There are a lot of things that besties can do that are perfectly friend-like. The segregation of romantic and platonic is a totally oppressive amatonormative structure, anyway."

You roll your eyes. "You have got to stop reading those infographics. Do you even know what any of those words mean?"

"Not the point! I'm saying that there's lots of cute stuff we can do while remaining besties,"

He's very enthusiastic about this. You can't tell if it's his penchant for being right, or something more.

"Pfft. Okay. So, what, friends can kiss?"

"Obviously," Cater crosses his arms over his chest, giving you that smug look of his. "Friends kiss, too."

"Then prove it,"

The words that had you had been holding in the back of your mouth for the past few minutes escape before your brain can stop them.

Even Cater, who's never surprised, pales a little.

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens, again without your thoughts offering any support.

"I didn't mean-"

"Okay,"

You blink. Something hot and cold at the same time runs through your body- adrenaline, anxiety, maybe it's just your own blood heating up at the way Cater leans closer, cupping your face in his hand, his fingers curled under your jaw and thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

His hands are kinda sweaty. You don't really mind, and even if you did, it wouldn't have mattered, because his lips are now sweetly pressing against yours.

You fit together quite nicely. As if he was just meant to kiss you.

It's hard not to think about everything all at once; his warm hand moving to cup your chin and hold you close to him, his hair brushing against your face, the way his lips still linger with spice from whatever he'd eaten earlier...

It's not perfect. But it's him, which is close enough.

Cater pulls away, his breath dancing across your lips, but he gives you no time to recover before he's closer, kissing you again with a sort of heat that matched the taste of his mouth.

He holds your face in both hands, shamelessly pinning you against the headboard and sitting in your lap as if he belonged there, always.

Minutes go by. Maybe hours. You wouldn't have noticed, or cared, either way. When you finally part from one another, it's felt like years.

You feel like an entirely different person. As if the world had ended and begun again in the six minutes you had been kissing him.

Cater sits atop your thighs, panting, his face redder than his Housewarden's hair, that of which would have flayed you both if he were to catch you like this.

Luckily, it's just the two of you.

"See?" Cater finally mumbles, dismounting you and scooting back to where he left his phone. "Platonic."

You're too breathless to argue.

You suppose you'll let him be right again.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi mx witch, I’ve been debating whether to send this in for a bit but I am curious what you think. I’ve been going back and forth on the ongoing “can you read at least one singular book by a Black woman�� discussion bc there is a thing where especially white readers (I am also white, non american but also somewhere with significant Black diaspora) hold up Black authors as somehow being the pinnacle of diversity and ending the conversation there. I don’t think you are doing this btw but this is the reading comprehension site. I just worry it doesn’t prompt people to think about more general issues of diversity in publishing when E/SE/S Asian authors also get screwed over in the industry (especially Asian women who don’t want to write about being Oppressed by their Traditional Culture) and there are just shamefully few published Indigenous authors from any continent.

HOWEVER. then I see some of the more tar pit responses to your book posts and to the rap discourse (oh my god the rap discourse) and I am like. hmmm maybe we should stay focussed on prompting people to challenge their anti-blackness for a bit when so many people are clearly incapable of the baby step of reading more widely. Much to consider.

📚

ps if you post this and anyone reads it and goes “oh wow this is so right, I guess I don’t need to read books by Black women”: no

pps SORRY for spam if this is a second anon, I asked this morning with dodgy signal and have no idea if it went through or if you are just swamped/don’t want to reply. no pressure.

hi anon,

I think it's a really good and thoughtful question, and I appreciate the good faith engagement with this question a lot! your concern reminds me a lot of something Yaa Gyasi (an author who's come up a lot in discussion about Black women writers!) said in this interview a few years ago:

Representation isn’t enough. It’s not enough to see people as representatives, and not actually engage with what they’re trying to say. I guess I’ve been feeling dispirited about the way that my work gets read, as it allows people to pat themselves on the back and feel like they’ve done something. Is literature enough? That’s frankly the question I’ve been asking this past year. I used to be the kind of person who would say this is making us more empathetic. But I’m not sure anymore if that’s what’s happening. Are you reading, or are you reading? 

and I definitely agree with her, and think that a lot of people have a tendency to reduce authors who aren't white, heterosexual men to tokens whose work they're morally obligated to read to be Good Allies, rather than because the work genuinely speaks to them, entertains them, moves them, challenges them, or does anything else that literature is capable of. it doesn't help that the publishing industry itself has an awful tendency of tokenzing authors, as you alluded to.

this is one of the reasons why I never include spaces pertaining to an author's personal identity on the reading bingo sheets that I design. I know that prompts like "read a book by a Native author" or "read a book by a trans author" and so on are quite popular in many book bingo spaces, but to me they run the risk of tokenizing those authors and make it seem as if it's fine if, for instance, no Native or trans authors are found anywhere else on the sheet, since they have a designated space. which isn't a perfect solution, to be sure - without a specific prompt, it's just as likely that there will be zero authors who are Native or trans or whatever other marginalized identity one can come up with on the bingo sheet. I'll be honest: as much as I love seeing the bingo sheets my followers are filling out, I'm a little stunned and disheartened to see how starkly white many of them are!

in this conversation, where people are being challenged to name even a single author who's a Black woman and coming up short, I think many people, especially hobby readers, are maybe realizing for the first time that they way they read doesn't quite live up to the ideas of equity that they personally hold and they're interested in changing that now. I've received a lot of feedback that does boil down to people excitedly reporting that they're now deliberately rushing to the library to seek out books by Black woman, and I can easily see how, pessimistically, that could be seen as further tokenizing those authors.

as much as I've rolled my eyes at the people who loudly insist that they couldn't possibly know what gender, race, ethnicity, etc, any author is because they only care about the story (with the implication being that knowing anything about the author would somehow cheapen the story - lmao), I do somewhat understand where they're coming from. while colorblindness is certainly not the solution, it would be ideal if nobody had to think much about hitting any kind of quota in regards to their reading habits. and I'm certainly not advocating for anything that strictly structured! but if so many people can't name a single Black woman who's written a book, then we need to acknowledge that there's a reason for that, and that not all authors are being read equally, and that it takes an active effort to course correct something like that.

my hope is that, with time, readers broadening their horizons enough that they don't have to actively seek out Black women authors (or Black authors in general, or Asian authors, or Latine authors, or trans or Muslim or disabled or Jewish authors, or authors translated into English, and so on) because those authors and their works will become a natural part of their literary diet that no single author is a sole representative of any group or perspective and can be appreciated solely on the basis of their craft.

but maybe the first baby step, as you said, has to be googling "Black woman authors." and maybe that's a little tokenizing! but when we're beginning from the rock bottom position of people struggling to name a single Black woman author at all, you have to start somewhere. I'm really glad to see people actually getting excited to do the work, and I hope they don't stop at reading one (1) book by Yaa Gyasi or Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie because a tumblr post made them feel uncomfortable.

I hope that makes sense and is a satisfying answer!

[northern-passage]

what have i been up to?

i decided to do a little check-in type post just to let you all know what i've been working on. i know things have been quiet here, mainly because i'm just not as active on social media as i used to be (but especially here)

i have been working on tnp, though. i've been rewriting chapter 2 (what was previously chapter 1) and i know a lot of people complain about rewrites but the fact was simply that i had written myself into a corner; when it comes to IF, when you have a lot of stats and branching and variations to track, you get to a point where it simply does not make sense to try and force it, and i really needed to go back and fix my coding and cut a lot of variables. which is what i've been doing, and many of you have seen how that's changed the game so far with the rewritten prologue (now chapter 1).

with that in mind, i've also done a lot of worldbuilding. again, you've seen some of this if you saw the pantheon post i made a while ago (though some of that has changed already, too, along with more edits to chapter 1 😅) and i've put a lot more thought into the setting, how the world "works" and the different relationships between countries and cultures, etc.

i will be yapping about all of that under the cut if you're interested, but if not, just know i am still working on the game. i do not have an estimated timeline for an update, but i am trying very hard to get chapter 2 out this year.

anyways, my rambling:

one of the main changes will be how Gael and Adrania function. Gael and Adrania remain similar in essence but the relationship has changed, as has the source of their hostilities. i've also put a lot more thought into the way gender roles would work in this world, something that i've previously been a bit wishy-washy on. reading more fantasy and studying lectures on the craft and understanding the way oppression works in the real world has allowed me to brainstorm a better, more realized world with tnp.

that being said, i still stand by my original goal with this project, which is that i'm not really interested in writing violent/graphic misogyny, transphobia, or homophobia. but i am interested in exploring the way empires hold power, and for tnp, that has always been through money and trade. even in the very first iterations, the major cities like blackwater and king's harbor are designed with very clear and purposeful class divides, i've just put a lot more thought into how this would actually work.

and there is also the influence of the gods; when your major religious figurehead is revered as a "mother," as well as the enforcer of justice, what does that mean for the world and the women in it? when you have gods that are genderless or genderfluid, how does that change societies perception of trans people, and gender as a whole?

i struggled when i started tnp about how to depict gender in this world, and originally i simply chose not to give it much thought, and i used a lot of anachronisms rather than actually trying to explore what transness and gender within the context of tnp would look like (i think this was my biggest mistake with Lea at the start. if you remember that you're a real one lol). and i think that's a cop out and simply not how any society would work. Adrania is an empire; people will be forced to comply to various roles and expectations in order for this empire to retain control.

so this led me to 1. reimplement the tolls, something that was present in my very first draft but got scrapped before publishing for the first time. it's easy to control people when you have papers and tolls to track them (or restrict their movements if they don't have the "correct" papers). 2. expand on the relationship between Gael and Adrania. where did these two countries come from? when did they split? how has Adrania managed to grow in power while Gael has not? and how has the plague exacerbated the hostilities? etc. we'll see a lot of this explained in the next chapter (as well as some edits made to chapter 1 again), with Adrania's trade agreements and how they exclude Gael specifically.

and finally, what gender roles are people expected to play within society? if Adrania's main god is a woman (okay, a wolf, but you get it) and a mother and also known to be a ruthless dispenser of justice, what does this mean for Adranian men and women? if their god of death is genderless and also commonly represented as a god of dreams and transitions (from life to death and wakefulness to dreams and from one gender to another or beyond) how does this impact the trans people in this world? if the god of war and harvest is sometimes a woman and sometimes a man, who benefits from elevating one depiction over the other?

lots of fun questions! which i think has led to some interesting changes in the game which makes the world feel more real. it also gives me a reason (not that i "needed" one but, ya know *gestures vaguely*) for all of the women i have in combat leadership roles: Keres, Hadrien, and Merry, just to name a few, and why someone like Redwine would be disliked and challenged as a political, landowning leader instead (and ultimately replaced by a man). while all the warrior gods are women (Wolfmother, the Moon, Stormbringer), Adrania emphasizes the male depiction of the Sun, which leads to this divide of men seeking landownership and more administrative political roles, versus women who, outside of motherhood, make careers as generals and captains and knights.

with trans people, there are similar expectations, of course, but they are also pushed towards more spiritual roles due to their perceived kinship with the death god as well as the Sun (and this also means that while motherhood is revered in this world, there is a looser definition here than in our world, due to transness being acknowledged, accepted, and an integral part of society. what "motherhood" is and what it means to people will be explored heavily in game, you just have to trust me on this one!) obviously there is a real history of trans people being seen this way, and it's something i've turned over in my head for a while. beyond the spiritual, though, trans people are seen in every other role as well, and we'll see some trans people who have little to no relationship with religion or the death god (like Merry, Lea, Clementine, Rodrick, and Rafe) and others that have an actively hostile relationship with it (Noel. lol) and including the potentially trans mc, we see a diverse depiction of trans people, as hunters and watchers and captains and healers and bards, etc. i'm hoping this still gives a well-rounded, multi-faceted look at how trans people live in this world without pigeonholing them solely as "divine oracles," or othering them from their cis counterparts.

overall, i feel that i've matured as a writer since i started tnp and i want that to reflect in the world as well. rereading the original demo made me cringe and a lot of it just felt very childish and flat, and i feel like i really didn't have a strong enough grasp on the fantasy genre, nor the skills and knowledge required to do proper, intensive worldbuilding at the time. now i think the story and setting and characters have grown a lot and i'm more capable and confident to do the things that past me couldn't. anyways thanks for reading all this, this post was just an excuse for me to talk about everything because i'm dying keeping it all to myself LOL. i look forward to catching back up to chapter 3 and finally sharing it all with you eventually!

[genderkoolaid]

I am currently taking a sociology and gender studies course in college, and it’s been really fun so far. But I feel kinda weird whenever the teacher brings up masculinity and femininity, and just certain gender stuff in general. I talked to her about my concerns, and she assured me that she was going to be adding stuff by trans and nonbinary scholars later in the course. But the thing that’s bothering me is the seeming lack of mention of trans men.

One of the things that stood out was when we were discussing patriarchy and she defined it as the subordination of femininity to masculinity. Which, like, yeah, but expressing masculinity isn’t rewarded in those expected to be feminine. And it feels as though the teacher is missing some important nuance.

I am not really sure I’m explaining it properly, but I was wondering if you had any suggestions of things I could read or do to make sure I am able to argue for trans masculinity if it does become a problem. Because right now I just have weird vibes but am unsure how to argue my point.

Ahhhh I've been in a very similar situation. I hope your professor is more amenable to critique than mine.

Here are some articles that come to mind:

Tracing a Ghostly Memory in My Throat: Reflections on Ftm Feminist Voice and Agency by C. Jacob Hale

Trans. Panic. Some Thoughts toward a Theory of Feminist Fundamentalism by Bobby Noble (also the author of the book Sons of the Movement: FtMs Risking Incoherence on a Post-Queer Cultural Landscape)

Trans. Feminism: Or, Reading Like A Depressed Transsexual by Cameron Awkward-Rich

Both Eraserhead and TERFs, Trans Mascs, and Two Steve Feminism by Jude Doyle examine the relationship between transmascs, oppression & feminism and expose the flaws in how feminism tends to approach transmasc issues

All of those are available online & are explorations by transmasculine feminists of the relationship between transmasculinity and feminism, encouraging people to think critically about feminism and what the transmasc experience teaches us about the patriarchy. Jude Doyle's work in particular is approachable and hits directly on many of the problems with how cis feminists tend to approach transmasculinity in feminism. bell hooks work on masculinity/manhood is also very valuable although it does not discuss transmasculinity directly, especially because she focuses more on the impact of race & class.

You could also bring up specific examples of anti-transmasc violence. This BBC article about the camionas of Chile, for example shows how for people seen as female, being masculine can be dangerous in ways that those who perform femininity are not affected by. There's a long history of masculinity in people seen as female being labeled a kind of madness, hysteria, and/or schizophrenia, and people being institutionalized as a result– this has been happening for centuries and is still very present in the world today.

It is blatantly obvious in the lived experiences of transmasculinized people that patriarchal oppression cannot be fully described by "femininity is subordinate to masculinity." And why would any feminist framework that was developed without the recognition of trans people be able to account for our experiences? Feminism that is not willing to be challenged on pretty fundamental levels by transness is not productive feminism. We need to have as much a voice in anti-patriarchal theorization as cis women. To get there, cis feminists need to realize just how deep trans & transmasc erasure runs, how entirely our experiences have been left out, how much of patriarchy & gender is left untheorized by cisfeminism because we cannot fit neatly into cis frameworks.

[botanical-garden-system]

Some of the people I have seen say they have non-disordered plurality have a lot of extreme dissociative symptoms from what they post. System conflicts, huge memory gaps, inability to control switches, extreme depersonalization/derealization symptoms.

This is not to deny someone’s experience, but more of a gentle reminder that if your experiences with plurality causes genuine distress? You may want to learn more about how dissociative disorders impact functions.

I don’t really understand any labels outside of traumagenic and maybe endogenic. I can’t even begin to really wrap my head around plurality not causing dissociation—it’s just not my experience at all. It’s a big reason why I decline arguing in any debates, but I have a pretty good idea of how my DID has impacted me.

I will feel like shit and not understand why because my emotions are highly fragmented. There could be something wrong, I could feel it occasionally, but I have no clue at all why I am experiencing this level of distress.

I know of a major traumatic experience in my childhood that could have caused my DID, but I genuinely remember little to nothing about my life and the factors are endless. When I do find stuff talking about my experiences, it sets me back and almost “triggers me” back into a state where I was during that time (I have no recollection still even after these triggers happen).

Skills and knowledge are somewhat distinctive between parts. Some parts have had full blown meltdowns because they didn’t understand an assignment, and when someone else switched in, they knew exactly what to do.

“Wishing to be a system” played a huge part in my formation, but it wasn’t wishing to be a system. It was wishing I had someone to talk to/had friends surrounding me because I was emotionally neglected as a child—this was around ages 6-10, so this thought process had a lot of impacts. I verbally talked to these parts and they often knew information I never remembered learning, and they often came around the most when I was lonely.

I don’t have a stable identity, and I haven’t had one for the entirety of my life. If I try to sit and think about it, my head will turn to TV static and shut off any chance of understanding my situation. I spend about 80-90% of my time going through the motions of life without any acknowledgment of my identity, thoughts, feelings, sensations, or perceptions in life.

Trauma doesn’t have to be a serious case of SA or physical abuse, it is possible it could be years of emotional neglect causing you to turn inward. Bullying, oppression, poverty, disability, physical illness, messy divorces/parents NOT divorcing, war, and many other issues are extremely taxing on a child.

This disorder is covert and nearly undetectable in most cases. Sometimes this means that it’s nearly impossible to see in ourselves. The whole point is to hide and make sure we “function” correctly in society, even at the expense of ourselves. It’s a coping mechanism our brain decided was the safest route to survive.

Identity disruptions, memory gaps, and all these things are not stable, concrete experiences. They are fluid. They can be wildly inconsistent, and you don’t have to be on the far end of the spectrum to experience these issues.

I’m not saying this as a genuine diagnosis of “You MUST have DID” because there are many different aspects that could impact this. I know that there are also like- labels that encompass different aspects that include trauma. However, this is just something I have noticed while scrolling through tumblr recently. This also isn’t targeted in any way, but if it resonates with you, I think learning about DID in medical contexts isn’t a bad idea (or at least learning of dissociation).

I have seen that a big reason many people get nervous to interact with traumagenic spaces is because of how aggressive and toxic they can be, which I understand is definitely a problem we see. It’s definitely a product of how DID is and what societal hatred does to marginalized communities. I take a very chilled and laid back approach to pretty much anything, so if you feel too scared to interact with the traumagenic community, I don’t mind trying to help!

[feeeeeeeeeesh]

Corvus Corax and the Raven Guards: addressing some common misconceptions and lore [Part I]

Translator's note: This is a translation of a meta essay written by 沈某 in Chinese, originally posted on Jan 2024. The original can be found here, and I have OP's permission to translate and repost this here. The author can also be found on RedNote here. Any further translator’s notes and additions from me will be in purple. There is a second part coming up. The link will be added here once it's done.

Author's note: The characterisation of Corax and his Raven Guards in the canon novels and storyline is quite unique, which leads to the fandom having misconceptions about them. This is not an accusation of any kind, I too was mislead by some of Corax’s actions, but as I learnt more about them I realised there is a lot of contrast in the way they’re characterised, so here I am trying to voice some of my thoughts.

A brief summary

Corax is a depressed goth literature bro

Corax is withdrawn and has a gothic aesthetic, but he is neither depressed nor a literature bro.

2. Corax is a socialist, he is approachable, against class stratification, and promotes freedom

There can’t be any socialists in the Warhammer setting, Corax is against the oppression of the lower class, not the existence of class itself.

3. Corax is a naive baby that got manipulated by the evil tyrannical Emperor

Corax is not naive and stupid, he clearly understands the morality of the Emperor’s actions. He is willing to sacrifice everything for the Emperor’s vision of humanity, and believes that is the reason he was created. The Emperor also trusts Corax completely.

He is also not a hypocrite who serves a tyrant despite his hatred for tyrants. Once again the setting must be considered; Corax’s definition of tyranny is based on abuse of power rather than simply authoritarianism.

4. Corax hates Curze, and looks down on him

Curze thinks everyone hate him, so Corax must hate him too. Before the Heresy Corax did not much of an opinion on anything besides of the Emperor and the Imperium.

5. The original Terran Raven Guards does not obey Corax; he treats them poorly, and discard them when they are no longer useful

Even the Terran Raven Guards that were sent away on independent missions respects Corax greatly. He has already given all his sons enough support and opportunity, and only most obstinate ones died at Gate Forty-Two, and this also pained him greatly.

1. Corax is a depressed goth literature bro

This is a misconception brought about by TTS (If the Emperor had Text-to-Speech Device). TTS itself is a great parody fanwork but many characters that appear in there differs greatly from canon. As many people were introduced to WH through TTS, so it’s expected that there would be misconceptions.

But to be honest, other than the gothic aesthetic, none of the other points there! Are canon!

Corax never said he enjoyed poetry, reading or writing books, he only mentioned in Deliverance Lost that, once the war is over and he retires, he will write a book, and the book will explain the political philosophies he learnt as a child.

“He was a commander, not a governor, and if he had no more battles to fight, he could have happily spent his remaining years, however many hundreds or perhaps thousands that might be, in comfortable retirement; perhaps compiling a treatise on the political lessons he had learned from his mentors on Lycaeus.”

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 6

This is not the same as an author writing a novel, he just wanted to share what he learnt in the form of writing, and it is not stemmed from a love of literature and creation. Another thing is Corax’s final line “nevermore”, which is a reference to The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, but it’s just a reference, and does not mean that Corax loves poetry.

“His mentors on Lycaeus had taught him of poetry, of rhyme and metre and cadence, but he had never quite been able to see the appeal. Poems reminded him too much of the work-songs the prisoners had invented to keep up their spirits while they had hewn with pick and laser drill at the unforgiving stone of the penal colony. The last three lines left Corax feeling disquieted, though, as if the Emperor had suspected that his Imperium could not endure any more than the great empires of mankind’s long history.”

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 7

This is Corax’s reaction upon seeing poetry written by the Emperor. He didn’t have much thought or emotion in response. He saw the poetry and was reminded of songs he heard before, that’s it.

I interpreted this passage slightly differently, but regardless, there is no canon evidence that Corax liked poetry.

If he had the time, he would’ve better spent it making new equipment for his sons

Shortly after his rise to Captain's rank, Kayvaan Shrike won the Contest of Shadows, a bicentennial trial of stealth and ingenuity. In victory, he was permitted to select any item from the Ravenspire's vaults, his to wield in the Emperor's service until his last breath. Such has ever been a generous prize, for Corax often laboured at the forge in the days after Isstvan V, seeking through the sweat of his brow to replenish an armoury so sorely denuded by the treachery of Horus and the unkindness of fate. Indeed, there even now remain many weapons crafted at the Primarch's hands which have yet to gleam in the flames of war, and it may yet be that many never will, save for in that last striving that one day comes to all warriors, where the enemy presses close and one final stand must be made before all slips into shadow.

Raven Guard Codex 8th edition, p.39

Corax busy making equipment for his sons as seen in the Codex

Also, he is not depressed not depressed not depressed, he really does not have depression. His natural tendency is to stay hidden in the dark, he is more comfortable like that, but he knows that others around him need him to appear sometimes, so when he’s not hiding he’s doing work, and when he does hide it’s more like he can’t be bothered pretending anymore.

Trigger warning: suicidal ideation, as appeared in canon

He did exhibit something similar to suicidal tendencies in Weregeld

“It was a mistake,’ he whispered, still kneeling with the Wolf King cradled close to his chest. ‘We were a mistake, brother, I know that now. I see it for myself, in my own blundering. I see it in the eyes of the mistakes I created, just as surely as the Emperor sees it in ours. There is no sense of guilt, only good intentions gone bad.”

Weregeld, Chapter 4

But this isn’t like the usual tendency of someone in great pain who is seeking an end to their suffering, he simply thought that primarchs are a mistake, so his existence as a primarch is wrong, and he should fix it by dying in battle.

His sudden change of mind was because he felt his duty has not ended so he can’t die yet.

TW over

Corax is a withdrawn man with a gothic aesthetic, and if he is truly mad he would not be bothered speak to anyone, but he’s not depressed and definitely not a literature bro.

2. Corax is a socialist, he is approachable, against class stratification, and promotes freedom

This is a bit more complicated to explain, but in Warhammer, human society hasn’t even reached the capitalism stage. All human worlds, no matter how good the living conditions, are still feudal societies with slavery. With that mind, there really can’t be any socialists.

And if we take a closer look, Corax is actually against slavers mistreating their slaves, the upper class wielding power without respecting each individual’s personal worth, and those who take pleasure in causing suffering. He is not against the idea and existence of class itself.

That much Corvus had understood, even if Manrus had spelled it out in no uncertain terms that such political imprisonment was immoral. To remove one’s enemies made sense to Corvus, especially if they could be turned to a more profitable endeavour. It was the condemnation of the families that Corvus had not fully understood. Again, he could perhaps justify the imprisonment of those related to the first agitators and demagogues, because there would be grounds to suspect a criminal’s beliefs might be shared by those around him. What stretched Corvus’s comprehension was the continued internment of those born and raised in the mines.

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 4

Corax can understand punishing dissenters and making them work in mines, but he thinks the prisoners’ descendants should not be responsible for the crimes of their ancestors.

If only it were that simple,’ said Corax. He had not worked out anything, simply remembered it. The Emperor had never attempted to create what Corax sought, and so there was no base of knowledge for him to recall. ‘That still leaves you with seventy-two different gene-strands to analyse.’ ‘A moment, please,’ said Orlandriaz, laying his hand on Corax’s arm as the primarch turned away. Corax glanced down in annoyance at the magos’s clutching fingers, noticing that the tech-priest’s fingernails looked to be made of a dull bronze. Realising his error, Nexin took his hand away and nodded his head in apology.

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 11

Corax has class consciousness; he values the individual worths of his subordinates, so he encourages free thinking and for people to voice their opinions, however not everyone can speak to him as casually as his sons.

The leaders of the Legion remnants assembled by Corax were a mix of line officers and sergeants for the most part, the odd lieutenant amongst them – warriors of higher rank tended to have been closer to their primarchs at the outset of the civil war. Seated around a long table brought into the grand hall for the assembly, they looked at the primarch with a mixture of hope, wariness and awe. He did not stand up, preferring not to overwhelm the delegates with his physical presence. For the same reason, he had not donned his armour but was dressed in a simple bodysuit of light grey beneath a long charcoal-coloured coat. Like the throne upon which he sat, the clothes had been made for him as a token of favour of Naima by Scaratoan craftsmen and women. It had been a long time, over two years Terran-standard, since he had worn much else other than his armour. He had wondered what it would be like, fearing that perhaps he would feel underdressed, but in fact it allowed him to think more like a civil leader than a general.

Ravenlord, Chapter 5

He opted for a plain appearance as to not imitate others so they could speak properly.

‘A thousand disparate pieces, each of purpose and value, brought together under the control of a single mind,’ said Corax. ‘We shall be the same. A machine, an organism. Of many parts working separately, but invisibly, silently bound by common purpose and thought. I do not ask you to swear loyalty to me, for there is no greater oath you have sworn than by your deeds in the name of the Emperor. I do not ask you to become Raven Guard, for the blood of other fathers and the customs of other worlds have shaped you. You are each what you are, individual – but together, indivisible, we will be even greater.’

Ravenlord, Chapter 5

3. Corax is a naive baby that got manipulated by the evil tyrannical Emperor

The variant of this I see more on Tumblr is that Corax is a hypocrite who, despite his hatred for tyrants, is still loyal to the Emperor, the biggest tyrant of them all, but I have seen both. While it’s not completely the same, some of the points here also address the issue on how Corax views the Emperor and why he remains loyal.

This is a very important point; Corax is not a naive baby, he is a primarch that grew up on a prison world. While most of his foster parents are political prisoners, it’s still a grim prison world, with prison guards that abuse the prisoners and gangs. While Corax was protected by his foster parents and friends, he still grew up surrounded by death.

Moritat-Prime Kaedes Nex A dark figure of gruesome repute amongst the tightly-knit survivors of Deliverance, Kaedes is seen as an ill-omen by his brothers. On Kiavahr in his youth he was known as the Blood Crow, an infamous murderer condemned to rot on the moon-prison. There he remained, until Corvus Corax offered him freedom and a pardon if he fought alongside the other rebels and limited his targets to those chosen by his new master. After enduring a painful late transformation to a Space Marine, it was only by the continued favour shown to him by Corax that he remained within the ranks of the Raven Guard, with few of his brothers willing to tolerate his macabre obsession with the hunt. Yet, in the grim shadow-wars fought by the Raven Guard in furtherance of the Emperor's grand plan, his murder-honed skills were employed with grim regularity. When the Raven Guard came to Isstvan V, Kaedes came with them, vanishing into the wastes to stalk the Traitors on his own terms. Nothing is recorded of his role in either the retreat from the massacre or the days that followed, and some maintain that not all of the Traitor craft to later leave Isstvan V carried only the followers of Horus, that Kaedes continued his private war in the shadows of the Horus Heresy.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermination, p.280

Kaedes went to prison for murder as a youth, and later, with Corax’s favour, became part of the Moritat, a unit that does the dirty work behind the scenes.

Corvus was half as tall again as the youths around him, and broader by far, but of all those who had met the guerrilla leader Nathian showed almost no fear. The prisoner’s stare matched Corax’s in its intensity. ‘That’s the boon I bring, ain’t it?’ said Nathian. ‘They think I can be trusted. I run the largest smuggling ring on the wing. A few bribes and words here and there will make it a lot easier for you to be moving stuff around, I’d warrant. And I’m no shirker in a fight. I’m dishonest, but I give you my word, for what it’s worth. I want out of this stinking hole as much as any of this lot.’ ‘He knows too much already – a curse on him and his prying,’ said Agapito. ‘Let’s be rid of him. We’ll put the body in the incinerators next shift.’ Nathian sneered, but did not look afraid. ‘No,’ said Corvus. He looked at Nathian closely, and saw the feral danger behind his eyes. A multiple-killer, aged only thirteen. It was not pleasant, but what Corvus had planned would sometimes need men of cold disposition, not just courage. ‘I can use him. Yes, Nathian – I accept your oath. And make no mistake, I will hold you to it.'

Ravenlord, Chapter 14

Nathian became a gang leader at age 13, and followed Corax during the uprising in Deliverance. Corax knew his moral character was not good, but he admires his ability and wants give him guidance, so he accepted him despite complaints from others.

And some voices, disturbing, demented voices that hovered on the edge of memory. He could not recall what they had said, but was left with an uneasy feeling of defiance and distrust.

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 2

Corax actually had high psychic potential, but he doesn’t delve into it or use it on purpose. In Deliverance Lost, the forces of Chaos actually noticed him before he left the incubation pod, and whispered to him, but he ignore it completely.

‘I speak not of you, but the Emperor. What makes his vision of the galaxy any purer than that of Horus, or yours, or the Mechanicum’s? You may have been the weapon the Emperor used against a galaxy of foes, but it was his power that wielded you, unleashed your Legion against those that opposed him.’ Again Corax was forced to think for a moment, to formulate his reply so that a knot of instinct and simple knowing could be unravelled into something more reasoned. ‘The Emperor is all the things he wishes to be. He has been both tyrannical and compassionate, merciless and merciful. But I have seen into him, and I have touched minds with him in a way no other can. And at the core of what others see is a man of humility and wisdom and learning. He is a man driven by the rational. A tyrant craves domination, but the Emperor carries his power like a burden, the responsibility for all of humanity on his shoulders. He is everything he must be, not out of desire, but from duty and necessity.’

Soulforge, Chapter 4

Corax’s retort against the opinion that the Emperor is a tyrant. He is not denying that the Emperor uses some questionable methods and insisting that he is a faultless saint, but rather stating that the Emperor is both cruel and merciful, but he does not desire to rule over everything, but rather view it as a duty.

Corax does not view the Emperor as a tyrant, as he believes the Emperor‘s methods are a means to an end. In his axioms, he defined tyranny as “force without justice”. In a similar vein to his view on class, he is not against the existence of authoritarian rulers itself but rather the abuse of this power to oppress their people. The setting must be considered when interpreting Corax’s political views. There is no hypocrisy in his loyalty to the Emperor because by his definition the Emperor is not a tyrant.

In yet another convergence of great events, it was in the immediate aftermath of the liberation of the prison moon Lycaeus and the opening salvoes of the atomic bombardment of Kiavahr that the Emperor arrived to reclaim his lost son. Unlike events surrounding so many other such meetings however, the Emperor came alone, and the next day left alone. While it is known that the Master of Mankind and the XIX Primarch spoke for long hours, what passed between them remains a matter of conjecture.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermination, p.133

The Emperor taught Corax to nuke Kiavahr after his arrival on Deliverance, and taught him that sacrifice is necessary in order to achieve his ideals.

In Deliverance Lost, the Emperor arrived after the atomic charges have been dropped in Kiavahr. Corax himself was reluctant to drop the bombs, out of consideration for the innocents, but after input from his friends and mentors, he gave the order in the end. Regardless of the order of events, and who prompted him to drop the atomic charges, this shows that Corax is far from innocent and naive.

He had been too focused on rebuilding the Legion and then striking back at Horus to quell the chattering, but now it was time to make certain truths known. Truths that had been revealed to him directly by the Emperor; truths that even now were hinted at in the recesses of his mind where the last memories the Emperor had passed to Corax still dwelt, like shadows at the bottom of a gorge. He trusted Agapito, and had done so since they had first stood together so many decades ago. Though hot-headed of late, he needed to know the nature of the foes they were now facing; all of the Raven Guard deserved that after suffering so much at their hands. ‘There are creatures that live within the warp,’ said Corax. Agapito nodded in understanding and was about to reply but the primarch cut him off. ‘Things not just in the warp but of the warp. The creatures that can consume a ship if its Geller fields fail. The creatures that the Navigators call the empyrean predators, and the Emperor calls daemons.’ Agapito muttered with distaste while a cruel laugh erupted from Vangellin. The other tech-priests listened with interest, seemingly detached from concern. ‘Yes, daemons,’ said Corax. ‘Beings not of flesh but of the stuff of the warp itself.’

Soulforge, Chapter 4

In Soulforge, The Emperor told Corax about the matter of the warp himself.

Also I just needed to say, most of Corax’s appearances are written by Gav Thorpe, but his primarch novel is written by Guy Haley, who made Corax an idealist with weak grip on reality to serve as a foil for Curze’s primarch novel also written by him. This is very different to how Gav writes him, so this book is a bad reference, due to the discrepancies. Of course there are also discrepancies in the parts of the story written by Gav, and I will mention those when they come.

For anyone who would like to know more about Corax, I strongly recommend you start on Deliverance Lost and not his primarch novel, due to the reasons outlined above. In fact, I would recommend looking at all the HH period novels and short stories first and the primarch novel last, if you are going to read it at all.

As mentioned above, Corax understands the dark side of human nature and of the Imperium. Corax knows that in order for the Emperor to protect more people he must do some things that aren’t very freedom and equality. There is always casualties in war, and Corax is against pointlessly throwing away the lives of soldiers, his goal been to achieve victory while minimising losses.

Sacrificing a small fraction of people to achieve victory is the baseline logic of Warhammer, you can’t say that others can do it but Corax isn’t allowed to because he likes peace and freedom.

Basically, everyone is a war criminal. Corax just has more regard for human life than some other war criminals in this franchise.

There’s also a bit of retconning in terms of Corax and the Emperor written by Gav. In the 40k Carcharadon novels, they mentioned that the Emperor gave Corax an artefact called the Void Glass, which can reveal everyone’s true forms. The Void Glass was first given to Corax by the Emperor, and then Corax gave it to the founder of the Carcharodon chapter for keeping.

Tangata Manu shook his head. 'I know the truth now. The Void Father gave the Glass into the keeping of the Forgotten One to take into the Void and keep it there. It was given to us to be lost, not used!’ The Librarian stared at the Void Glass but he said no words.

Carcharodons - Silent Hunters

This conflicts with the original story written by Gav, where Corax is shaken upon learning about his true nature born of the warp, but in essence still hints that Corax knew some secrets of the Emperor and primarch pretty early on, and shows that the Emperor trust him absolutely and believes he is reliable.

With the benefit of hindsight, some have claimed that the Emperor spoke to Corax of things men, even some other Primarchs, were not yet ready to hear; of the truth of those powers that seethe within the Warp and the darkness soon to come.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermination, p.133

Corax understands the Emperor’s thoughts, he agrees with the Emperor’s vision and is willing to give up everything for it.

4. Corax hates Curze, and looks down on him

This point came from Curze’s primarch novel, where he said he thinks all brothers hate him, so Corax must hate him too. But from the description, Corax was shocked at seeing him killing his sons but didn’t really make a comment, however due to Curze’s habitual defensiveness, he interpreted this as Corax humiliating him publicly.

'Brother,' said Corax. 'I come to you without violent intent, but please, explain to me what is going on in this city. His voice was soft like the Night Haunter's, though not as sibilant, and with a more measured tone. Sevatar refused to let it beguile him. The threat Corax made was clear enough.

Corax broke the silence first. 'What is the meaning of this, my brother?' he said, gesturing metre-long claws at the mess of the slain. 'What happened to your warriors?' Unable to help himself, the Night Haunter snarled. He caught it and turned it into a mocking smile, but not before all present had seen his anger. He was a predator challenged by something just as dangerous. For a moment, Konrad Curze exhibited weakness. 'I happened to them, said Curze evenly. Corax looked over the ruined flesh in the room in disbelief. 'What have you done?' Curze smiled blackly. 'An internal dispute, Lord Corax, he said airily. 'A Legion matter, that I have resolved. You must understand, there are many criminals in your Legion also. You have your ways of dealing with those who stray too far from the bounds of good conduct.’ He poked a blade of Mercy through the shattered eye lens of a helm and held it up for Corax to see. ‘This is mine.’ Corax's eyes lingered on the blood staining Curze's chin. ’Then perhaps you could tell me why you are bombarding this already compliant sector?'

Konrad Curze: The Night Haunter, Chapter 6

So here Curze realised some of his sons are bad and deviated from his idealogies. In order to cover up this crime, he decided to bombard a planet that is already compliant. Corax of course cannot accept this as it is a waste of the Imperium’s resources.

'I do not think anything about you,' said Corax. 'Other than the disgust I feel for your methods. Curze shrugged. 'You may join the line of all the others who feel the same. I don't care. I am exactly as the Emperor intended me to be. Are you really any better than I, Corax shadow-skulker? The Eighth are open in our murders. The Nineteenth are assassins. We are all killers. We are brothers in method as well as in blood.’ 'Our way of war is clean, said Corax. Sevatar found his voice annoyingly lugubrious. Such misery. They said he was raised in a prison, and that accounted for his saturnine demeanour. Sevatar wanted to hurl him into the deeps of Nostramo's hives, so he might better learn what lawlessness was. The primarchs were preening fools, self-obsessed, unable to see the truth for their own, aggrandised woes. Curze was lonely in being true to himself. He was a fiend, but at least he was honest. 'No war is clean. All of them come with a price,‘ Curze continued. 'Some are more obvious than others, that is all, and the price must always be paid.’ Curze sighed, shrinking into himself, bored. 'War's reckoning awaits you. Do you wish to know the cost?' Corax's black, unreadable eyes rested on Curze for several seconds. 'I will return to my ship. Stop this bombardment. The conquest is falling behind schedule. We risk turning the population further from the Emperor's light.’

Konrad Curze: The Night Haunter, Chapter 6

Still from Curze’s primarch novel, and from Sevatar’s biased “only Curze is perfect and always correct” perspective. Corax did not refute that he is a tool of the Emperor, and has the same awareness of the fact as Curze, however Curze’s feelings on this matter are more pointed. Curze minds that his father sees him as a tool, but Corax does not.

And also there’s a major problem here, in that there’s a discrepancy in Corax’s characterisation written by Guy Haley. He wrote that Corax said his wars are clean, but this contradicts every other novel about Corax. As mentioned previously, he does have his own specialised units and methods for doing the dirty work, and of course he understands that no war is clean, and that Curze’s fear tactics are a necessity, but should not be overused. Unless of course by “clean” they meant the battlefield is cleaned well afterwards.

So if we look at this passage carefully, what happened is Corax discovered Curze is doing something in secret, so he came to investigate, and realised Curze was killing a bunch of his sons. He didn’t say you can’t do that, but just asked him why, and also I wouldn’t do that if that was me. And to Curze it’s, you’re humiliating me.

Corax’s opinion of Curze was overall pretty positive pre-Heresy. He doesn’t like it when his legion is compared to the Nigh Lords, but it’s the behaviour not the person. No one likes it when people keep comparing you to someone else. Corax doesn’t like the image of “Night Haunter”, but he has nothing against Curze.

The general interpretation of what “Night Haunter” means to Curze in the CN fandom space is quite different to here, due to language structure, naming conventions and probably translation as well.

One characteristic of Corax is that he doesn’t have subjective opinions of individual people, he forms opinions on people based on their behaviour and then react accordingly. Corax dislikes Perturabo, because he saw how Perturabo has little regard for lives lost during his wars; Corax dislikes Horus, because he saw how there is hidden arrogance in Horus’ friendly demeanour, and how he was making things difficult on purpose for Corax’s subordinates. But Corax didn’t have such a reason to dislike Curze. Curze may be difficult to get along with, but he does everything for the Imperium, so to Corax he is a brother, just one with a different style who can be temperamental at times.

EX TENEBRIS Ex Tenebris is a masterwork bolter fitted with an incredibly sophisticated telescopic scope system. Chapter legend has it that the weapon was forged by Corax himself, as a gift for his wayward brother, the Night Haunter. But the Horus Heresy turned the two Primarchs’ Legions against one another, and Ex Tenebris was instead borne into battle by heroes of the Raven Guard.

Raven Guard Codex 8th edition, p. 58

Corax is not the type of person who would actively try and form close relationships with people. He prefers to act alone, and there is usually a clear purpose for his actions. Even for Guilliman whom he does like, it’s only on the level that he has a good impression of him and wants to learn about administration from him. So Corax actually wanting to give a gift to Curze can be interpreted as having a decent opinion of him.

People like saying that Corax likes comparing himself to Curze, but Curze actually does that more, and Corax doesn’t just compare himself to Curze, he also thought about his similarities to Angron. In his eyes they are all primarchs, and whatever flaws the traitor primarchs had he must have too, and that’s what concerned him.

Each of those parts that they put into me, I gave to each of you,’ the Emperor had said. Corax had asked who had put what into the Emperor but he had shaken his head and refused to answer, telling Corax that it was not important anymore. Reunited with his primarchs, he would be whole once again. The Raven Guard’s leader wondered what part of the Emperor had been put into a beast like Angron. He shuddered to think what Horus had promised the World Eater in return for his betrayal of the Emperor. Conquest, no doubt, and glory in battle. Angron had craved these things more than any other primarch, though Corax and his brothers had all been created with a fierce military pride. What else, Corax thought. What do you gain from this rebellion against the Emperor?

Raven’s Flight

‘We have been touched by forces beyond the Emperor’s own design – you know this, brother, as well as I do. No good comes from that which in evil is born, no matter the purpose or cause. I look at Curze and see myself. Do you find Angron in your reflection? How thin is the veneer that keeps us loyal, keeps us civilised? But for chance, it seems, any of us might now have crossed that line. Does the line even exist, or do we simply draw it in front of us as suits our own vanity?’

Weregeld

‘He made us what we are, but I cannot divine his purpose any more,’ said Corax. ‘Do you think we have failed?’ ‘We conquered the galaxy in his name, brother. We brought humanity into the light from the darkness of Old Night. He created us for that purpose and no other.’ ‘The Emperor also created Horus and made him Warmaster,’ countered Corax, unsettled by Dorn’s words. ‘He brought the likes of the Night Haunter into his plans.’ ‘What else could he have done?’ said Dorn. ‘Curze is one of us, though perhaps a victim of circumstances none of us can even imagine. I know better than anyone exactly what he is capable of.’ Corax nodded grimly. ‘The likes of Curze and Angron were broken from the start. You know the ultimate sanction open to the Emperor. He could have–’ Dorn raised a hand before he could finish. ‘I find your doubts disturbing, brother.’ The wrinkles on his forehead deepened further in annoyance as he gazed across the shuttle port, his fists clenched by his sides. ‘It is still the Emperor’s will that mankind become the masters of the galaxy.’

Deliverance Lost, Chapter 7

This part is when Corax and Dorn discuss their brothers in Deliverance Lost. On the surface Dorn seem quite calm, and Corax is very aggressive calling Curze and Angron broken, but that’s because this is after the drop site massacre, and while Dorn knows what they did at Isstvan V, he wasn’t there to witness it.

From Corax’s perspective, the primarchs are tools created by the Emperor, and if a tool rebelled against its master then it’s a failed work, he didn’t meet the Emperor’s expectations so he’s also pretty much failed. So his main point isn’t actually hating Curze or Angron personally, but rather than he should’ve recognised the problem earlier and dealt with it.

5. The original Terran Raven Guards does not obey Corax; he treats them poorly, and discard of them when they are no longer useful

This is a more complicated problem, and we first need to address the story before.

Before Corax’s return, the XIXth legion was managed by Horus. Horus managed the legion for 140 years, but there’s only around 80 years between Corax’s return and the Heresy, so for those legionaries who have served longer than their primarch, it’s expected that they would have different opinions about Corax’s orders. Not just on the issue on experience, they may be older than their gene-father in age.

With that in mind, while there seems to be come conflict between Corax and many Terran Raven Guards, with him sending them away to distant sectors, but there is no novel actually saying Corax hated them and left them to their own devices, instead he gave them enough supplies and trust to let them complete their missions.

Corax knelt beside the body of a Raven Guard, his chestplate rent open, his ribcage splayed. His armour bore the markings of a veteran, one of those that had come from Terra and made Deliverance his new home.

Raven’s Flight

There isn’t a large population on Deliverance for recruitment, so even by the point of the Heresy, most Raven Guards are still Terran recruits. And by this point there isn’t such a large rift between the Terran-born and Deliverance-born; the Terrans see Deliverance as a second home.

The main issue with Corax’s treatment of Terran Raven Guards is at the Battle of Gate Forty-Two. Here Horus was clearly trying to suppress Corax’s influence, because Corax was the only primarch who disliked him before the heresy. Perturabo also took this opportunity to fan the flames, and in the end Russ told Corax he should listen to the Warmaster, as the Warmaster represents the Emperor.

In answer, Perturabo accused Corax of seeking to avoid battle, a crime verging on dereliction for a Primarch of the Legiones Astartes. The two very nearly came to blows, with only the intervention of Leman Russ staying bloodshed. The Wolf King counselled Corax to heed the words of the Primarch who the Emperor had set above his brothers. Russ urged Corax to smother his bitterness, but not to extinguish it, and from that guttering flame kindle the fire to carry the battle through. Taking his leave of the council, Corax mustered the Raven Guard before Gate Forty-Two. Knowing their particular demeanour would carry them forward, Corax assigned many of his Terran-dominated companies to the van, in particular those whose captains appeared the most willing to play their part in the Warmaster’s plan.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermimation, p. 135

Corax didn’t want to waste the lives of his warriors in a frontal charge, but he still accepted the views of those Terrans who are used to being under Horus’s command, and he charged at the front with them.

The assault that followed was hailed as the Legion’s darkest hour, a grim honour that, tragically, would be displaced just a few years later at Isstvan V. At the height of the battle, the assault companies decimated and the attack faltering in the face of overwhelming fire, Corax himself led the forlorn hope, his battle cry firing the Legion to such efforts that the breach was carried and Gate Forty-Two taken. The honour of slaying the Unsighted Kings was claimed by Horus as Warmaster and at the moment of their execution, the xenos’ hold over the population was dispelled. The Akum-Sothos Cluster was delivered and the Warmaster’s prize was reclaimed. The cost was terrible however, for not only had countless millions of hosts been crippled in mind and body, but thousands of Raven Guard, the bulk of them Terran-born, had given their lives before the shattered walls. Though the Battle of Gate Forty-Two was counted a victory by (and indeed for) the Warmaster, its effects were far reaching. The Legion’s numbers were sorely depleted, leaving only 80,000 Legionaries under the Primarch’s command and making it the smallest of the Legiones Astartes. Corax removed himself and his Legion from his brother’s command, swearing bitterly never to serve alongside the Warmaster again.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermimation, p. 135

Horus commanded Corax to sacrifice his sons at the front and then stole the kill, and even if some Terran Raven Guards did gave their lives willingly, Corax was greatly pained by this, and he certainly did not sending them to their deaths on purpose. Corax doesn’t like certain slaver behaviours seen on some Terran Raven Guards, usually commanders, but normal Raven Guards to him are all good warriors, and should not die in vain.

One last consequence of the Battle of Gate Forty-Two lingers still. In its aftermath, those line officers who, before the coming of the Primarch, had served for so long under Horus’ command were gone, and so the Warmaster was able to exert little in the way of influence over the Raven Lord’s Legion. Many of these Terrans had been inducted into the warrior lodges, and with their deaths these unseen bodies all but vanished from the Raven Guard. It has been claimed by his detractors that in assigning the Terranborn Legionaries to the assault wave that would suffer the greatest losses, Corax did his Legion a service, consolidating his power and paving the way for a future more in line with his own vision. As a result, the Legion was largely spared the wave of insurrection that was transmitted through so many of the Legions by the hidden auspices of the lodges.

The Horus Heresy Book III Extermimation, p. 135

From another perspective, even though there seems to be so much conflict between Corax and Terran Raven Guards, there weren’t any Raven Guards that chose to defect to Horus during the Heresy. Most Terran Raven Guards, upon hearing the news, chose wither to return and defend Terra, or sought revenge from traitors because they thought their primarch is dead. If Corax was really so cold-blooded, then most of the Terran Raven Guards would’ve chosen to follow Horus during the Heresy. The Raven Guards are assertive and knew who was good to them, so even the Ashen Claws, who were on very bad terms with him, chose to go renegade instead of following Horus.

After addressing the issue of Corax‘s treatment of Terran Raven Guards, I will address the idea that, because Corax was too nice to his sons, he lacks authority and cannot manage them.

Firstly, Corax returned very late, and by the time he has returned, the XIXth legion already has a terrible reputation, with problems in many areas. Corax needed to manage his legion in the Great Crusade and trying to fix all of the problems of his Raven Guards. Under this condition, the fact that there wasn’t a rebellion within the legion during the heresy is a pretty remarkable achievement. Some people will use Sanguinius as a rebuttal against this, but Sanguinius is supposed to have outstanding charisma. And if you are using Sanguinius as the standard for legion management, then any legion where there is anyone not listening to the primarch also fails, not just Corax.

Secondly, Corax is a primarch that values the individuality of his subordinates and respects their personalities. He wants every warrior to have self awareness and independent thought, that way in the absence of a leader they can quickly regroup and continue the battle. A feature of the Raven Guards is that they can quickly split up, fight in groups, and then regroup at a key moment, still in sync. So Corax would listen to the thoughts and ideas of all his subordinates, then give them an overall direction.

‘And what is strength?’ ‘True strength comes from knowing one’s own value is dependent upon the value of others,’ said Arendi. It had been only a short time since he and the other survivors of the primarch’s guard had arrived, but already he showed signs of returning health. His face was filling out, eyes brighter, skin smoother. ‘It is recognising the bond between us all and acting together for the cause of all.’

‘A thousand disparate pieces, each of purpose and value, brought together under the control of a single mind,’ said Corax. ‘We shall be the same. A machine, an organism. Of many parts working separately, but invisibly, silently bound by common purpose and thought. I do not ask you to swear loyalty to me, for there is no greater oath you have sworn than by your deeds in the name of the Emperor. I do not ask you to become Raven Guard, for the blood of other fathers and the customs of other worlds have shaped you. You are each what you are, individual – but together, indivisible, we will be even greater.’

‘Perhaps for the Raven Guard,’ said Damastor Kyil, an artificial lung wheezing as he drew in a breath. ‘Not all of us grew up in a prison, nor spent years fighting far from the command of our primarchs. You take that culture for granted, Lord Corax.’ ‘I do not,’ the primarch replied. ‘You will soon each have first-hand experience of the fighting I describe. And you will have close acquaintance with those that have been terrorised into submission. I demand no promise or oath beyond that you accompany us on our next attack and learn from the Raven Guard how to wage the war we must now fight. After that, you are free to go your own ways, to attempt to return to Terra or other home worlds as you choose, or to remain under my command.’

Ravenlord, Chapter 5

Corax teaching the followers at hand, from Ravenlord. Corax’s style has always been to lead the people into battle, giving them strength and knowledge in the process. When he is sure they can progress on their own, he will release his grip on them, and let them move forward on their own.

It’s the principles of “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.’, which is how he’s always educated his sons. So the more he trusts them, the more likely he will send them away. By 40k, the Raven Guards also use this method to manage the worlds they’ve liberated, leaving after ensuring that the people can defend themselves.

The precise means of liberation vary from world to world. If the corruption is centralised, the Darkened Blades employ the lightning assaults common to the Adeptus Astartes, mustering overwhelming power against the unready foe. More often the oppression is endemic, however, and must be confronted on a continental or even planetary scale. In such cases, the 6th Company divide into subformations and mount fast-moving guerrilla actions to make optimal use of their limited numbers. Meanwhile, local resistance forces are trained in those aspects of the shadow arts that any Imperial citizen can grasp, so that they might support the Raven Guard operation and contribute to their own deliverance. The Raven Guard cannot remain on a world forever, and their desire is to leave a liberated populace who can look to their own defence.

Raven Guard Codex 8th edition, 6th Company “The Darkened Blades”, p. 17

[this-is-exorsexism]

welcome to this is exorsexism.

this is an account to highlight exorsexism, so that more people learn to recognise it when it's happening and we can fight it better.

what happens here is that i will post examples of exorsexism here as i encounter it, as well as submitted examples. this can be stories of exorsexism of offline or online exorsexism. if not immediately clear, i may provide an explanation of how something is exorsexist.

this is also a safe space for nonbinary people to vent or rant about exorsexism.

you can submit exorsexism you encountered to me via submissions or asks. if you send a screenshot of someone being exorsexist, please make sure to crop or censor any identifying information such as their username and profile picture. this account is for educational purposes and for nonbinary people to vent their experiences, not to send harassment to anyone.

exorsexism from within nonbinary and wider transgender communities is also welcome as that too needs awareness.

not sure if something you want to submit counts as exorsexism? submit it anyway and we can talk about it. and if you think your exorsexism experience isn't "bad enough" to be submitted: yes, it is.

credit where credit is due: this account is very much inspired by @exorsexistbullshit who sadly hasn't been active in going on 5 years, as well as casualableism on instagram.

submission rules:

since this is a blog to highlight a form of bigotry and oppression that also often intersects with other forms of oppression, a "no bigotry" rule doesn't make sense here. however, being bigoted towards bigots is not welcome here. this includes calling bigots or bigotry -phobic (i.e. "homophobia"), narcissistic, delusional, lame, blind, cr*zy, st*pid and more.

the key difference here is whether you are quoting bigotry you have encountered or whether you're being bigoted as well.

i am multiply disabled and we don't do that kind of thing here, so if i ignored your ask or blocked you, that's probably why.

FAQ

what is exorsexism?

in short, exorsexism is the oppression of and bigotry against nonbinary people. it is essentially sexism directed at nonbinary people. furthermore, it also includes the hatred of anything heavily associated with nonbinary people, like certain pronouns. exorsexism ranges from the erasure of nonbinary people to outright hostility. there are many different kinds of exorsexism as there are many different kinds of nonbinary people. exorsexism affects the whole range of nonbinary gender identities, including but not limited to agender, multigender, genderfluid, aporagender & xenogender people, as well as androgynes, nonbinary men & nonbinary women. here's an incomplete list of examples of exorsexism: nonbinary erasure, not just erasure of all nonbinary people, but also of more specific gender identities, forcing nonbinary people into the gender binary or creating new gender-related binaries to force us into (e.g. amab/afab, masc/fem, men/non-men, cisgender/transgender), thinking gender can't be fluid, thinking everyone has to have a gender, thinking nonbinary identities are new, a trend, a choice, a phase or a way to try and be special, erasing exorsexism as a specific form of oppression, thinking nonbinary people have to look a certain way, centring binary people & experiences in communities that have historically included us, mocking they, it and neopronouns, thinking that "everyone is a bit nonbinary"/reducing nonbinaryhood to gender nonconformity, thinking nonbinary people are just deviations from binary genders, i.e. men & women lite.

why don't you call it binarism?

because binarism is more specific than exorsexism.

teehee, i thought it said exorcism!

i don't care. now back to business.

how long is your queue?

it's set to post 4 times a day. if you were to send something in today it would be posted in about 2 weeks.

why has my submission not been posted?

it's either in the queue waiting to be posted or has been deleted due to violation of the submission guidelines.

why should i care about exorsexism?

for the same reason you hopefully care about other marginalised groups. if you don't, then i can't convince you to care and that's not why i'm here.

can i submit if i'm binary?

yes! we love seeing binary people being aware of exorsexism.

[pomefioredove]

Helloo!

Can I have a chocolate cookie, #3 with chestnuts and whipped cream, please?

Hope I'm lucky!🤞😺

ofc!!

order #3, chocolate with chestnuts, whipped cream

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ cat scratch fever

summary: the royal heir lays sick in bed. luckily, they have their poet to keep them entertained tropes: sick fic, royalty au characters: che'nya additional info: romantic or platonic, gender neutral reader, reader is not specified to be yuu, not actually cat scratch fever I just liked that as a title

It started, as most disagreeable things do, with a cough.

And then fatigue. And then fever. And then a swelling in your feet and fingers (which finally fell on the second day of treatment).

And now a fourth round of medicine is being forced down your throat by a nursemaid, and no one had been more miserable.

You sputter and spit, the black, bitter substance staining your silken bedsheets. Your mother would have a fit if she saw how you were soiling her nice fabrics.

For fuck's sake. Why would you care? Why does the thought even come to mind? Your parents haven't even visited you.

It's been... weeks, perhaps. Of this pitiful sickness.

You're the only child- the heir. If you die, one of your many uncles or cousins or second-cousins or third-cousins will take the throne in your stead. There will be war, of course.

Your survival is political. Not personal.

"Feeling better?" a maid you've never met asks, drawing the curtains to drag in the morning.

You shield your eyes from the oppressive sun and pout.

"I've run out of things to read,"

"Have you? I could have sworn that Marian brought in a stack of books just yesterday,"

"All of them," you say. "I've read all of them. No one will speak to me, so how else should I keep myself entertained?"

The maid hums, mulling over the thought while she tidies your room (not that there's much to tidy- you haven't been out of bed in days). And then she snaps her fingers.

"The poet. I'll send for him,"

You groan, sliding back into bed, as if your blankets might shield you from your boring fate. "Please, not him. I don't know if i could bear it. He's so strange!"

"Nonsense, he'll keep you company, and he'll speak to you for hours,"

And that's exactly what you're dreading.

"How doth the little crocodile-"

"I've heard this one. You just recited it ten minutes ago!"

"-improve his shining tail?"

You moan, as if in some pathetic amount of pain, and you almost throw your pillow at him. "You're not even listening!"

Che'nya's eyes sparkle, the slitted pupils practically pouncing on you, devouring your delicate state. He takes too much pleasure in having you bedbound- you have no choice but to listen to him, here.

"I am," he says, poking your cheek. "I just don't think you understood it the first time. Let's try again."

"How presumptuous," you grumble. "Tell me something else. I am the dying one here, you know. I don't have the time."

"You can't have time, silly. Is it in your pants-pocket? Your armoire?"

"Tell me something else,"

He ponders on that, cradling his chin in his palm. His catlike eyes carry over your shivering, pitiful form. "Mm... you do remind me of a story of a certain girl..."

Your eyes widen. "Yes?"

"...But I don't think you'd care to hear that one. How about the man who stood on his head?"

"NO!" you throw your pillow at him, and he parries it with infuriating ease.

"How about the one about the walrus and carpenter?"

"Not that, either. I want the one about the girl,"

"Or the bat?"

"I want the story about the girl,"

"My, you are so picky!" Che'nya smiles. "However am I supposed to know what you want? I can't read your mind, you know."

You're not so sure about that. You sigh, slumping in bed like you had already died.

Che'nya relents. "Well, it's not as catchy as the bat, but I suppose it'll do. There was once a girl,"

You sit up in bed and nod. "Yes?"

"Who drank this dreadfully curious concoction,"

"Yes, yes?"

"-Which she really not ought have, mind you. One shouldn't go tasting things one hasn't introduced themselves to,"

"What happened to the girl?"

"She shrank,"

"She shrank?"

"To the height of a hairpin! Miserable, she was, all sick and small, to top it off,"

You furrow your brow. "Well, how did she grow back?"

"Pardon? Grow back?"

"She got better, didn't she? How did she grow back?"

"Oh, never, never!" Che'nya cries, grabbing his chest as if his heart couldn't handle the thought. "She stayed small for-ever. She floated on the open sea in a glass bottle until the end of her days."

"What!" you cry, propelling another goose-feather pillow at his face. He parries it this time, too.

"What? I told you the story. Let's recite the alphabet backwards,"

"That can't be the end," you say, finding the strength to fall out of bed and fumble yourself over to his stool. "She must have found a way to get better. Didn't she?"

Che'nya makes no attempt to help you keep your footing, preoccupied with thought (as he so often is), and you fall across his lap.

"...Hm... well, hm... yes, it's coming back to me now,"

"What is it?"

"She rested, and then... Well, when someone shrinks- the only way to grow is to eat,"

"Eat? Eat what?"

"Oh, anything wonderish. Biscuits, mushrooms, tree bark, tea leaves, butter, sugar, lemon, tree bark-"

"Something strange? But wouldn't that poison you?"

Che'nya taps the tip of your nose and then finds your waist, finally lifting you to your feet. "But was it not poison that shrunk her in the first place?"

He carries you to your sickbed, tucking you back under the covers and fluffing your pillows for comfort, with such a delicate touch that you might have forgotten about the story altogether.

"Was it?" you yawn, tired from your tumble out of bed and bored of the arguing.

Che'nya smiles. "Perhaps another curious little thing ought to be careful about what they drink, too... I suppose I should sit on your head like a hat and warn you of these things,"

"Yeah... maybe,"

Vague as ever. He kisses your skin, salty as if you had been floating on the open sea, too. "Sleep well. I'll have biscuits and mushrooms for you by morning,"

[midnight-in-town]

My thoughts on WHA's latest chapter (big spoilers !)

otherwise titled "THE TRAGEDY T_T"

Thank you Dagda for saying out loud what everybody is thinking, which is to say trust people and stop erasing memories whenever it's convenient for the system (and not for the victims).

What a guy, not only does Dagda have a better solution than magic to offer (because magic can't solve everything when it's used for the wellfare of the oppressive system in place and not for the people), but most importantly, only a true father would have been able to find that answer.

His relationship with Coustas is beautiful and I wonder if Sensei is making a criticism of the often terrible master/students dynamics we've seen throughout the series, through Dagda and Coustas.

I mean, amongst magic users, it's not family that seems to bind the most (see Agathe and her mom, or Riché and how close she is to her brother but no real mention of their parents, or Tartar and his folks iirc whereas his grandfather means well), but beyond that we've had many distasteful masters who only care about their name & reputation, instead of the education & wellbeing of their students.

It seems like Dagda & Coustas (and to some extent, Eoleo the Prince and his parents) are really criticism of that, considering that the education of children (to help them understand and decide what's allowed & forbidden, what's good or bad) is really a main theme of WHA.

It's very sad that Dagda has to die for Coustas to live, but at least we have high ranked witches like Lulucy who will probably be able to use Dagda's example to change things. Hopefully.

Last but DEFINITELY not least,

it was already so painful for Coco to witness Dagda giving his life to save his son, her friend, but the fact that it wasn't enough (because of Ininia ?) caused her immense grief. Gosh, how I hate to see the despair and anger in her eyes ! :(

And just as I hoped we wouldn't be able to reach an even lower and more painful moment for her...

She will now have to face Ininia and Tartar, while still having to save Coustas.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think Tartar joined Ininia or the Brim Hats off screen, none of that. Tartar is as much Coustas' friend as Coco is so it makes sense that he's there, to help Coustas' condition. However, Tartar's fate is as threatened by the Brim Hats, as Coco's is.

We've been warned from the start that Coco is Iguin's hope, precisely because she's torn between upholding the Witches' (unfair) system and fully understanding what the non-magic folk feel like. Tartar is similar : with his questioning of why the separation of magic and medicine is necessary, he borders dangerously on the same edge as Coco, which is why they get along so well and why they perfectly understood Coustas' anger and resentment.

This above (from ch51) is what the cliffhanger calls back to : Coco keeps facing that the Witches don't always have the best answers to offer with their rules and Tartar wonders about how responsible he is, for upholding rules without questioning how relevant or fair they are.

Meanwhile, Ininia represents the Brim Hats'. She's there as a temptation for Tartar and Coco, since Coustas is not yet saved. Again, she's not to blame, Lord Restis who's using her is (which is why it's quite heartwarming to see Galga and Atuarto trying to get her back from Coustas' Silverwood tree).

Speaking of tentation, in my opinion, I think it's too soon for Coco : the Brim Hats keep trying and, with every arc that ends, she's walking closer to that edge, but I am not sure this arc will be the final step for her fall into the abyss, because she still trusts Qifrey.

Tartar however ? He was questioning everything more than Coco initially did, because of his own medical condition and not having found a master who would try their hardest to teach him, despite his illness. Also he was saved by medicine just a few moments ago in the current arc, so... to quote ch42 :

Narratively, he and Coustas are very similar, which is why I once thought it'd be very symbolic for them to be taken in by the same master. I once thought Atuarto would be that guy and I still hope it's going to be the case, because otherwise I fear the Brim Hats' way is going to be too tempting for these boys.

Hopefully I'm dead wrong about this, because I can't take more of these devastatingly good chapters.

[lvrrgirlll]

A Life of Our Own

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

pairing: knight!patrick x princess!reader

word count: 5k

warnings: smut, p in v, mentions of god and oppressive societal structures, fem!reader

a/n: long awaited part 3 (“official” final part) of the knight patrick au!! I’ve literally been writing and rewriting this for over a month so I feel really accomplished in finishing it. I feel like this mini series has really been a labor of love and is the type of writing I really love doing, so I hope you all love it!! (Also I’ll openly admit, this was very hastily proofread so there’s a chance there’s mistakes and whatnot)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

After that night, you and Patrick became inseparable. Of course, he was meant to follow you at all times, so by order, you were inseparable, but you both made certain to take full advantage of that. You spent days in the garden chatting away as he tried to stand stoic, obeying his orders but ultimately failing when you would place a woven flower crown onto his head or flick water from the fountain onto him. And there was many a night where he would sneak into your chambers when the rest of the castle wasn’t listening, sometimes to fuck, sometimes to talk into the wee hours of the night, and other times to just to be held. Your attraction was more than just sexual or lustful or something simple of that nature. You were in love.

On a particularly cool night in the castle, in which you and Patrick found yourselves wrapped in each other’s embrace in your bed, a plan was hatched.

"I wish we could be married..." you muse mindlessly as you trace the toned muscles on his bicep.

"Why can't we," he asks softly, turning towards you just a bit more to gauge your reaction. The smile painting his face is boyish and charming, purposely oblivious to the great divide between the two of you.

"Patrick... you know why," you sigh sorrowfully. He sees in your eyes that you long to be his in every sense of the word, in the eyes of the law and the kingdom and God. He frowns, then.

Letting out a thoughtful hum, Patrick thinks. "What if I were to speak to your father...?"

"My father? He would never allow it... he'd find it... preposterous. He'd likely banish you even for thinking it." You thought for a moment, the silence between the two of you tense, but not uncomfortable. “Perhaps,” you faltered for a moment, “we could run away..." Slowly, you move to lock your gaze on him, hope dancing behind your irises.

He smiles, but it feels as if his warmth is masking a sort of grimace. “I couldn’t ask that of you. To leave your life, your world, behind all for me. I would never think to take you away from your life here.” It was simple, straightforward, almost even cold, but he was honest.

“What life can I have if I must love you in secret?” Your response was so plain yet so true. “Patrick, my life is yours. My life is in your hands here, why should that change anywhere else? I am already stifled in my station here as a woman and, at the same time, unfairly lauded for the circumstantial chance I was born into. With you I am equal. In you I find my freedom, my salvation, my devotion. You would not be taking me away from anything here, but instead offering me the life I truly desire.” He sat momentarily in awe, chest pounding as your words lingered in his head. You two had exchanged many a sweet nothing, but these were no longer sweet nothings. These were sacred vows.

Continuing, you sat up, taking his hands in yours to ground yourself as well as find your strength in being together with him. “It would not be a sin, a crime, none of it would be a fault. To love as we do, how we do, that is the holiest thing, is it not?” You searched his face for an answer, longing to hear him relent and give in. The way his eyes scanned your features, a deep line growing between his brows as he was deep in thought, left you feeling bare in a way you’d never felt before. This was how he was, he could see you, all of you, through the layers of petticoats and lavish fabrics, he could see through the makeup and intricately done hair. And you wanted nothing more than to feel seen like that for the rest of eternity. His eyes flitted away quickly, as if he could no longer bear to face his feelings so boldly as you did.

With a shaky sigh, his eyes returned to yours, softening. “It is…” he affirmed. “You are the holiest thing, my dear.” A gleeful smile spread across your features and you leaned in, kissing him gently on the cheek. Your hands roamed his body, his face, through his hair. It is like you were trying to trace his form, memorize it (as if you hadn’t already done so long ago) and prove to yourself that this was real.

“When shall we leave,” you asked in a hushed voice, eager to begin your life -a real life- with him as soon as possible.

“Is tomorrow night too soon,” he returns, his desire to be your husband just as strong as yours to be his wife. Every second you two are just another secret in the palace walls breaks him. He wants to give you more, even if that means leaving the world you have always known behind.

“I would leave this minute if we could,” you whisper, close enough now that you can feel his warm breath dancing along your skin.

“I will fetch my steed tomorrow and tie him up around the back of the castle. By nightfall, once everyone has gone to sleep, we can take our leave.” He pauses, a look of fear crossing his features, but it appears to be mixed with something much warmer… enthusiasm perhaps? “A friend of mine lives in the neighboring town and we can sleep in his cottage for the night,” he continues. “We should be gone by sunrise, though. The moment they find you missing they will be searching all surrounding areas, and we don’t want to be found, do we?”

“No,” you shake your head.

He looks away from you yet again, the same conflicted look washing over him. “Please,” he begins, stopping again to catch his breath, though he has hardly spoken enough to be breathless. “Please, if you change your mind, do not hesitate to tell me, darling. Once we are gone we cannot return, but if you call it off I will obey your wish.” It is clear he is ridden with guilt, feeling as if he has made up your mind for you; as if he is some venomous force pulling you from your true life.

“I won’t change my mind, Patrick, I assure you.” Your hand traces his face, following his cheekbones down to his jaw. “I wish to spend the rest of my life with you… I cannot dream of calling that off.” Gently, your thumb brushes over his lower lip, a bit chapped from the cool temperature, but yours nonetheless. “I only ask, if I leave behind the crown, will I still be your princess?” Your eyes meet his, wide and pleading.

“Always, my princess. Always.”

The two of you fall asleep in each other's arms, Patrick waking up early in the morning to take his position again at your door like always. When you woke, you felt a nervous pit in your stomach. To think that this would be your last day in the palace you had spent your entire life in, grown up in, stirred an unexpected fear in you facing the reality of the secret promise you and Patrick had made. Those same walls that raised you, though, consumed you, leaving you powerless, unknowing, and trapped. You reminded yourself that while the palace had offered you warmth through your nurse, your ladies in waiting, and of course Patrick, it also represented an institution that would never see you win. Already, you had heard talks from the King and Queen of marrying you off to the warring kingdom’s young, arrogant prince, and the thought was sickening. You knew you were not a political pawn, not a mere princess, but a woman, a human, flesh and blood, a beating heart that held more power than any monarch. And you knew above all that Sir Patrick, your knight in shining armor, saw all of that and more in you.

The day passed with menial succession, similar to most of your days. Patrick followed closely, as usual, though the air between the two of you felt tense –not with any sort of malice, but with a mutual concern for the risk you two were soon to take. “M’lady, if I may,” he begins, pulling your focus from the book you held. Truthfully, the words in the book passed you by, your thoughts too crowded to focus on the pages. Upon your attention, he continued cautiously. “Should something,” he paused again, regaining his composure, “should something go wrong… can you promise me you will allow me to take the blame? If we are found out–”

Not wanting to hear any more, you interrupted, bringing your soft hands to cup his stubley face. “We won’t be. We’re careful, we’ve thought it out… Please, have faith, and put these worries aside. I shan’t leave you, even if the worst may come.” Your fingers played with the curls at the nape of his neck as you offered him the softest gaze imaginable, like a warm sheet of silk or cashmere washing over him.

“Of course, my love.” He brings a chaste kiss to your lips, speaking yet again in defense of his concern. “I only want what’s best for you…” The words rolled off his tongue quietly, as if it was a secret. As if he had not already devoted his post, his life, to protecting yours.

At nightfall, while you ate supper, Patrick excused himself to ready his horse for your departure. You found great difficulty in smiling and feigning merriment at a grand dining table surrounded by those who had kept you in your gilded cage. More upsetting, those who would shrink and take disgust in the love you share with a humble night. As if nobility and royalty are so distinct anyways. It is all a joke like those told by a court jester, though, in this instance you felt like the court jester and the audience wasn’t laughing. Patiently, you waited until the table had cleared, save your parents, the King and Queen.

“Dearest, is something wrong,” the rich voice of your mother calls from across the table. Panic rushes through every fiber of your being, afraid you have been much too obvious with your disdain for your present situation. As you were trained to do, though, you conduct yourself calmly and cautiously, as though your heart were not pounding at the seemingly simple question.

“Only tired, Mother,” you assure with a calculated smile, just sweet enough but clearly forced in an attempt to back up your claims of tiredness.

“Why? You can rest easy now that we have appointed Sir Patrick as your knight. Of course, you could rest easier if you were to be wed, as that is the greatest security a woman can have. And if you married we could dismiss Sir Patrick back to his original post.” Your father’s booming voice yet again reminded you why your only option was to escape. Even Patrick being your personal knight was meant to be temporary, and how could you go on if you lost him in your life for good. Would you be doomed to stealing glances and chance encounters like that of your first? It was not worth thinking of. You shouldn’t even consider it, because you knew tonight would change everything. Or, God rest your soul, you hoped.

Cutting your father off (you had tuned out his ramblings long ago), you stood. “Might I be excused? I’d like to adjourn to bed if it is agreeable.” You could take no more of the royal foolishness. Thankfully, you were dismissed, allowing you to return to the safe haven of your room. As you sped through the hall, you lost your footing when a hand reached out from an alcove, grabbing your wrist and pulling you in. Before you could react, Patrick clasped a hand over your mouth, smiling down at you and bringing a finger up to his mouth in a shushing motion.

“It’s only me, my love,” he whispers softly, tenderly. In the low light of the candles illuminating the hall, he looks breathtaking. Bathed in hues of gold and orange, the shadowy contours of his face are only further deepened, emphasizing his angular features in a way more romantic, you think, than even the finest poets could describe. “The servants won’t retire until roughly midnight, maybe later, but they linger about, so we need to be sure they see you enter your chambers before we take our leave.” You nod, understanding and appreciating the caution he has taken to ensure your safe passage.

As he guides you to your chambers, a strong hand subtly held on the small of your back, you think of just how close to freedom you truly are. How soon enough, you and Patrick could truly live and love freely. How you could have a chance at a real future together; marriage; children. Your nerves were shot, both excitement and fear thrumming through your entire body in a way that was hard to contain. When you reached your room, Patrick took his post outside your door, nodding in quiet reassurance. Inside, however, alone with your thoughts, you felt like a mad woman.

It was impossible to rest, let alone sleep for the few hours before you would take your leave. All you could manage was pacing your room, back and forth, endlessly. You felt consumed by your overwhelming love for the man right outside your door, but equally consumed by woe and anxieties that rolled and swelled like waves through your mind. Selfishly, your fear that a terrible fate would befall Patrick outweighed your fear of God. After all, sin was the last thing you were concerned with anymore. Busying your mind to distract from your nerves, you decided to try to memorize every detail of your room, the room you had lived in your entire life. As you looked to the walls, the windows, the patterns of the window panes, you realized that the room had never truly felt alive until you let Patrick into it. Before, the moonlight felt cold, like a distant observer of your solitude, but now the moon reminded you of him. That first night in your room, where the blue-ish light shone down through the glass and onto him, was the first time it felt warm, as light is supposed to feel. It was then you realized that you would not miss the room at all, though it brought you many great memories, as a room full of love is still only a room, but the love inside transcends.

Before long, you had calmed yourself enough to drift off, if only for a couple hours. The feeling of warmth against your skin caused you to stir, realizing that Patrick was at your bedside calling softly to you. “Princess, it is time,” his voice was hushed but excitement clearly rang through in his tone. You followed him, grabbing the satchel you had packed a few garments (and your circlet, figuring you could sell it) in. Without any light, the two of you crept out of your room and through the dark corridors of the palace, finally reaching the back stables where his horse waited readily.

Patrick was sure to help you up onto the horse. “My apologies that there isn’t more time for introductions. I’m sure you two will become fast friends later.” He mounted the horse, giving him a quick pet before taking hold of the reins and calling out a soft ‘ya’, the steed racing into action upon its cue. You held tightly to him as you watched the castle grow smaller and smaller in the distance, until you could no longer make it out under the cover of darkness. You rode until dawn, thankfully reaching the nearing kingdom’s town and finding Patrick’s companion, Arthur –Art for short, who had previously offered you shelter before daybreak.

“It’s not much, but it can offer you security for the day,” his friend croaked, his voice cold, but kind in an odd sort of way. His cottage in the village was small and a little further from the main town, but that was better under these circumstances. The room you would be in, luckily, did not have any windows but as he said, it was small and simple, though you didn’t mind in the slightest. After a life of luxury, simple was all you truly desired. “I would advise you two get further away as soon as possible, though. Once they realize your gone,” he fixed his gaze on you, “if they haven’t already, this is the next place they’d look after your town.” It didn’t exactly quell your anxieties, but Patrick wrapped an arm around your shoulder, offering you much more comfort than one may think, and you nodded in acknowledgement.

“Thank you,” you spoke gently. “We can never repay the kindness you have shown us, truly.” But his friend only shook his head, chuckling in response.

“Nonsense. I owe my life to your knight, here. ‘Tis the least I could do for you, your majesty.”

Holed up inside the room, now, you and Patrick could finally relax, at least to some degree. He sighed heavily as he sat on the end of the bed, leaning hunched over his knees in exhaustion. You were so grateful to him. He had borne the brunt of the hardship that came with this plan, leading strong and unwavering to help reassure you, but you could see now in his physicality just how scared he was too. Crawling behind him on the bed, you massaged his shoulders tenderly, longing to be his relief.

“You don’t have to do that…” he murmurs quietly. “You’ve hardly slept at all.”

“You haven’t slept at all,” you remind him. He doesn’t say another word, but from the way he allows his tense, muscular shoulders to relax with your touch, you could tell he had relented.

The two of you slept through a majority of the day, the lack of windows certainly helping, before rising when called by Art. “The coast is clear. Some knights came into town asking questions but to my knowledge they have no leads and think you were both taken by rivals,” he reported, straight to the point. It was a relief to hear that they had no real idea where you had gone. “I suggest you two get going then,” he urged, fixing a pointed eye on Patrick. Patrick agreed, of course, thanking his friend several times over and insisting he would repay him someday.

Within the following night and into the day, we had made it further, to a point that we didn’t have to fear suspicion. It’s not like news ever reached these far off forest villages, anyways. After a few days of travel, the two of you seeking sanctuary in a local cathedral in your current town, you elected to marry. A priest did so, his witness one of the nuns. Patrick was clad in his finest tunic (which, truly speaking needed restitching in certain places) and pants, while you wore your white, velvet gown (notably, the only full gown you had packed, packing chemises and underdresses the rest of the way for their ease and lighter storage). The vows, though traditional, were beautiful and the two of you could not have been happier than when you were finally, really permitted to kiss under the eyes of God.

On the move again, you and Patrick finally reached your destination, a stout little cottage tucked away deep into the woods hundreds of miles from your kingdom. “My mother’s cousin lived here,” Patrick explains. The two of you observe the ivy grown walls and the foggy, circular windows. “He’ll either be home, or he’s died.” Though morbid, you understood, the plague claiming many lives over the years. To neither of your surprise really, the door opens easily and the home appears long abandoned. You enter, taking in the dusty interior. It’s quaint in a comfortable way. Patrick turns to you after setting down the few things you had brought, an unfamiliar look on his face. “Can you be happy here,” he asked plainly, eyes hopeful but a wash of embarrassment apparent in his voice.

Your brows knitted together. “My dearest,” you utter, coming closer and resting your arms around his shoulders as you look into his eyes. “Wherever you are is where I am happiest. And I know here we can share a long, beautiful life.” You brought a hand up to cup his face, rubbing your thumb along his jaw, the familiar scratch of his stubble playing against your fingertips. You lean in, slightly tip toed, kissing him sweetly. When you pull away, you fix your gaze on him again, humming as you think. “We are free from the confines of the palace walls. Please, do not put up walls now in the name of ‘protecting me’.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against you as if he were trying to melt into you.

“Okay…” he whispers softly.

After resting, working to clean up the place, and making it more of a real home, you and Patrick are finally able to settle into your new life. He travels into the village, not far from the cottage, some days to sell things, some days to buy things. Together, you start a garden, something you had always wanted to do, though your family would not let you at the castle. You find peace in wearing less opulent, constricting clothing, enjoying the freedom lighter fabrics and less layers offer. But what you enjoy the most is waking up next to Patrick every morning, seeing him finally in the morning sunlight, as opposed to the secretive moonlight.

“Mmph… ‘morning,” he mumbles as he rolls over, slinging an arm around you. He pulls you in closer to him, his bare chest warm like a furnace as you nuzzle against him. You pepper chaste kisses along his jaw, trying to wake him up a bit more. Though he once followed the rigid regimen of the King’s guard, rising early and resting late, he now reverted to his nature, able to sleep deep into the afternoon.

“I had the most wonderful dream…” you spoke, carding your fingers through his curls and tracing along the winding patterns they made. When he hummed in acknowledgment, eyes flitting open (though still hanging heavy), you continued. “We were in the garden, just out back, and we had children. Children, Pat!” You sat up slightly. “A little girl, with dark curly hair like yours was running around picking daisies,” you gushed, not realizing how thrilling an idea it truly was until you divulged. “And we had a son, too. He looked to be older than our girl, only by a little bit though. His eyes were just like yours and his freckles too.”

“Imagine that…” he commented, sitting up a bit to match you. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, yawning before turning to face you. “Is that something you want? Children, I mean?” You blushed at that, a grin you couldn’t hide making its way onto your face without even trying. You nodded then, enthusiasm clearly apparent. “Well what are we waiting for,” a smirk grew on his face as he turned to you.

Patrick rolls over so that he is now on top of you, placing sloppy kisses all over your face. “I love you, my angel,” he mumbles against the skin of your ear as he nibbles at it lightly. He moves his hands to pull your sleeping gown up and over your head, revealing your breasts. Returning to kiss your neck, he palmed at your breasts, adoring the little mewls and breaths you let out. “You’re divine, love. Like some mythic goddess or an angel fallen to our Earth.” You can already feel his hard length straining in his trousers against your leg, reaching a hand down to offer him some relief too.

He sighs, melting against you like wax to your flame. His eyes flutter shut and you take in the details of his face; the way his eyelashes sit heavily like a curtain over his under eyes, his freckles scattered about his face as if God himself had flicked a paintbrush on his skin, the fine little wrinkles in his lips, so memorized in your head that you could likely recognize him from his lips alone. Then, he sat up, untying the drawstring of his trousers and revealing himself to you. The image of his taut abs, winding hairs scattered about and leading down to his hardened member would linger in your mind for the rest of your life, you thought. Though you had his body memorized, every time you saw him you were still in awe of how statuesque he was. No artist could ever truly capture the beauty of your husband.

Climbing back in the sheets, Patrick swirled his fingers gently around your opening, ensuring you were ready for him before moving to line himself up. As he looked down at you, he had never felt more sure of anything in his life. After all the turmoil, anxieties, and fear, he knew together you had made the best decision, the right decision, and hearing you speak so hopefully for your future together only cemented how much he yearned for that. He sheathed himself inside of you slowly, allowing you the time to adjust while you left out quiet gasping breaths. He reached out, cupping your jaw and kissing you deeply, passionately, before slowly rocking his hips. You felt so safe in his arms, so loved, and that was the most alluring feeling you could imagine. Knowing he wanted you, all of you, the good and the bad, for better or worse… it made your heart skip a beat. Even just thinking of how much you loved him, you clenched around him, causing him to groan into your hair.

“You’re too good to be true…” he huffed as his hips quickened in pace. He laid a flattened palm against your lower stomach, pushing ever so slightly while he gave you deeper, longer thrusts. The sounds you were making now were even prettier, leaving him powerless against his desire for you. As his strokes grow rapid, more desperate –messier, even– he brings his face in line with yours, not kissing you just yet but halting so close that you could feel his hot breath against your lips with each exhale. “I love you,” he grunts, he was lost in his motions but his tone remained as meaningful as when he had uttered those same words at the altar when you were wed. Hearing the tenderness, the raw honesty of those three words, you spasmed around him, chest heaving as you reached your high. As he continued thrusting into you, he finally closed the space between you, your lips slotting together like they had been made for each other. You could feel him spilling inside of you, filling you up with his seed exactly as you had desired. He refrained from moving immediately, merely remaining inside of you, motionless, and lazily mouthing at your shoulder. “Finally mine…” you could make out of his mumbling. “My lovely bride… my beautiful wife…” And you just held him.

Five years later…

“Arthur, fetch you sister, dear,” you instructed your son while continuing your stitching. The curly haired boy ran out of the room, returning quickly with your daughter in tow. “Delphine,” you started. “Come here, darling.” She toddled over to you and you held up your cloth work to her little body, trying to gauge if it would fit. “I think that’ll do…” you mumble, more to yourself than to either of them. “Go play, children. Your father should return home soon.” Patrick had taken a job at a stable, caring for the horses and ensuring they were ridden while their owners boarded them. You now spend most of your days tending to the garden, reading, and caring for your children. You were so proud of them. Arthur, named after Patrick’s kindest friend, was brave like Patrick, and Delphine was remarkably intelligent for her age, already doing well with the simple reading lessons you were giving them.

You could hear the whinnying of Patrick’s horse and the cheers from your children outside and knew in an instant that he had returned. Eagerly, you abandoned your work to greet him. Watching him hop off the horse and scoop your children into his arms, you couldn’t help but smile. Walking over to him, you couldn’t help but notice how he needed to shave, his salt and pepper beard actually starting to form a beard, but honestly you didn’t really mind. In tiny little spots, strands of hair had started greying ever so slightly, something you joked was because of the stress of your kids, though in reality they were the best you two could have asked for. “I missed you,” you confessed as he pulled you flush against him in a tight hug.

He laughed at that, handsome smile fully on display. “I only left this morning,” he chimed in response. Your family had set off, trailing inside to start preparing supper. “How are you feeling? How’s the baby?” He came closer to where you rested against the carved wooden table, placing a gentle palm against your stomach, only a small bump thus far.

“I think the sickness has finally passed,” you muse. “I’m feeling good.” You reach up, clutching his jaw then to keep his focus on you. “This is the last one, though,” you insist, playfully but with an undertone of seriousness.

“You say that now…” he replies smoothly.

“Now and forever,” you reaffirm, fixing him with a serious eye.

“Alright. Whatever you desire, my princess, it will be done… Or, I suppose in this case, it won’t be done.” A soft laugh leaves him, like music to your ears. You are glad to hear him laugh, something you didn’t hear from him often when you were still a princess.

“What have I said about calling me that?”

“I told you then and I will tell you now, you will always be my princess, royal or not.”

[marlshroom]

i will never ever stop thinking about the disability allegories in gravity falls. i cant ever stop thinking about disability allegories in other media and gravity falls is no different. im feeling chatty today, so lets see if i can articulate all my feelings on the matter.

the most interesting thing that stuck out to me with thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com was this snippet on fords medical paper:

we hear about this kind of attitude towards disabilities often, maybe you have heard about autism being referred to as the "next evolutionary change in humans." we can especially see this when a person has a disability, but is also very capable in other fields. there are so many cases in the medical or educational field of a child having specific needs, yet they are ignored due to them being "gifted".

in a vacuum, ford's extra finger may not be considered a disability, the sixth finger allows him more movement and dexterity, and ontop of that, he's a genius. its just an extra finger right? its not like it hurts him. but it does hurt him. he is a child living with a limb difference, he is constantly ridiculed by his peers. they call him a freak and physically harass him.

this is where we dip into the social model of disability here. i know sometimes that can cause a little bit of discourse, but i think its interesting to note here! please if you have a limb difference feel free to add your perspective or correct me where you see fit. if you don't know what the social model of disability is, its the perspective that disabled people would not be as limited in their abilities if it wasn't for the oppressive society that they lived in(think people in wheelchairs could do more things if infrastructure had disabled people in mind). ford wouldn't be experiencing abliesm in his life if limb differences were something people were educated about. then we get to bill cipher. in theory, his ability to see the 3rd dimension is almost a super power. but in the book of bill its literally stated that it is illegal for anyone to mention the possibility of "up". he is forced into abusive medical practices where he is being drugged to suppress his ability. no one in his dimension has the same perspective of him, he is completely alone, and even worse, the people who should be protecting him like his parents and doctors are abusing him(not that his parents are evil for this obviously. they don't have a choice and i assume they want what is best for him, what were they supposed to do? yet it still had this horrible impact on bill).

this social model can be applied to bill cipher. he has this ability that in a vacuum would be considered amazing, but he lives in a society(rip) that oppresses this. they have to, because bill trying to let his dimension see the stars killed every last person. which makes me think that whoever was in power here probably knew this would happen. its unsure if bill cipher knew the true extent of his damage would be, but i am of the belief that he didn't know how bad it would really be.

i just find all of this very interesting. i really love when a story tackles a topic such as disability. its so obvious this is what alex hirsch is going for and its such a unique take that i don't see often in media, as a disabled person myself. feel free to lmk your thoughts :)

[generisydtoo]

Thoughts on the recent SOTR castings!

While they’re not necessarily what I envisioned, I really am happy for the girls, and think they’re gonna do great! This franchise doesn’t just cast any and everybody for these roles. I’m also glad they’re casting 2 different actresses. I’ve seen fan casts use identical twins, and they kept missing the mark for me bc, the point is Louella and Lou Lou are DIFFERENT kids.

My main issue surrounding this discussion is that now we’re never gonna hear the end of it from the “Why would she be Black/Brown?” “Y’all are obsessed with race. Why does it even matter?” crowds, and after going through this with SO many fandoms already (including this one), I just…ugh. I’ve already seen someone comment on TikTok “white Louella you will always be famous” (which I wouldn’t side-eye if we didn’t know what kind of undertones they carry)🥴.

People asking “why does race matter?” in regards to The Hunger Games is also really odd to me, when it’s a story set in a still-oppressive future of NORTH AMERICA, and while it’s not the focus of the story, there have been undertones of racial discrimination (in addition to the more prevalent class discrimination), particularly in Districts 12 and 11.

I do think it’s strange how people are writing off others’ disappointment- particularly that of Black fans and others who perceived her to be WOC- as performative or unfounded. Shame on anyone sending hate to the actresses ofc, but I’ve seen a lot of ppl equate this disappointment/criticism of the castings/director with hate towards the actresses themselves, when that’s not what’s going on.

I’ve also seen ppl try to equate the disappointment/critiques about these recent castings to the hate Amandla received in 2012. I understand and fully support not wanting these young actresses to receive hate; that should be the standard! That being said, I feel like ppl are forgetting just how vitriolic ppl were towards Amandla (including sending her death threats!), and what that vitriol was rooted in— anti-Black bigotry and racism. Again, NO child should receive hate for playing a role, but the two situations are not the same.

I’m especially tired of ppl saying “Why would she be Black? Everyone in D11 isn’t Black”. Of course everyone in D11 isn’t Black, but every single tribute we’ve seen from D11 so far has been Black, aside from book Seeder. It’s weird to me that some folks think it’s outlandish that Lou Lou, and by extension, Louella, could’ve been be Black too. It also seems like people are ignoring other people who use the terms “predominantly/majority Black” in favor of wrongfully interpreting them as someone saying D11 is “all Black,” when that’s not the case.

Lastly, it’s interesting how most of the “Why would she be Black/POC?” “Why does race even matter? Stop making everything about race!” crowd and the people fighting tooth and nail to go against Black/Brown interpretations of these characters tend to be from the same demographic that has never had to worry about having good representation/representation at all, but I digress…