#let them sa-si if they can speak no better

[soothingmoonlight]

The change from þ to s was a political move no matter how much any Noldo or Indis of the Vanyar try to deny it. And it was in fact a very unfortunate and unwise change that actually damaged the Quenya language. Were it not for the strife in the house of Finwë, the thorn would have been kept as all the lore masters agreed with Fëanor's opinion on the matter.

"Into the strife and confusion of loyalties in that time this seemingly trivial matter, the change of þ to s, was caught up to its embitterment, and to lasting detriment to the Quenya tongue. Had peace been maintained there can be no doubt that the advice of Fëanor, with which all the other lore-masters privately or openly agreed, would have prevailed." - Shibboleth of Fëanor, HoME XII, The Peoples of Middle-Earth

Regardless of how people in the fandom delight in mocking Fëanor and saying he had a lisp, the truth is that he was the one who spoke proper Quenya. He wanted to keep both 'þ' and 's' as both letters surve a purpose and are needed in order to speak the language correctly. Þ (the thorn) is not an alternative pronunciation for 's' . Imagine making the same change in the English language and substituting all the 'th' sounds with 's' sounds and notice how many words would change their meaning e.g. þink [think] -> sink.

Idea for the poll submitted by anonymous – slightly altered.

[toomanybrowsertabs]

For all the bad things wrought by Feanor's oath and the first kinslaying and the ship burning... he was objectively correct when it comes to linguistics.

Maybe my reasoning is slightly different as to why it's important for Quenya to retain the thule-silme sound distinction and to avoid the sa-si, and were I a Quenya speaker I probably wouldn't bring it up if someone sa-si'd in front of me, unless they tried to correct my accent (similar to how I don't care how someone pronounces gif, as long as they don't try and tell me I'm wrong if I say it different)...

But as long as Sindarin retains the distinction, then collapsing the sounds in Quenya should not be treated as an adjustment to standard Noldorin Quenya, but as a variant dialect/accent. Any time a fanfic has a non-Feanorian Noldo mention a "Feanorian lisp," I can't help but think "no, they don't have a lisp, you have an Outrageous French Accente" (The dental fricative does not exist in French, meaning Francophones speaking English will often replace th with s/z... or t/d if they're Quebecois but that's a tangent). I understand that among the Noldor it became political, but it still seems to me like... someone who spoke Sindarin first, with the sound distinction, would speak Quenya with that distinction? Making it even more political because now Noldor who sa-si are probably out there "correcting" Sindar who don't and really who's the one making a mess of the language?

Also it seems to me that the shift from thule>sule becoming standard Noldorin Quenya happened over a timescale that would be jarring to us if translated into human timescale, like if over the course of a year the word "yeet" replaced the word "throw" in standard english, and anyone who still said "throw" would be lumped in with war criminals.

Also when you take into account that Noldo would apparently sa-si Miriel's name, can you really blame Feanor for being stubborn about it? Like, at the very least make an exception for people's names, even if you've merged the sounds in the rest of the language.

Anyway, let them sa-si if they can speak no better, but if they try and correct someone who doesn't, they're objectively wrong lol.

[pennysno1fan]

UPDATED AS OF 11-21-24

Intro!!

☁️ My name is Echo (you can also call me Shiho or Minori). I use they/xe/moon/star/bean/boo pronouns!! If you want any more information about me or my pronouns, then visit my pronouns page :3

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[soothingmoonlight]

This is such an amazing and informative post! Thank you, OP, for sharing it!

If I may also add that in "The Shibboleth of Fëanor" Tolkien points out that Fëanor was actually the one who was speaking Quenya correctly and that the Noldor should have kept the letter Þ and its pronunciation 'th'.

I have seen many posts on the matter claiming that Fëanor had a lisp or that he was trying to substitute the letter 's' with the letter 'þ' altogether which could not be further from the truth. In fact, it was the other way around. Fëanor wanted to keep both 'þ' and 's' as both sounds/letters are needed in order to speak the language properly. The rest of the Noldor, however, wanted to substitute 'þ' with 's' and this change was "to the lasting detriment of the Quenya tongue".

Quote: "Into the strife and confusion of loyalties in that time this seemingly trivial matter, the change of þ to s, was caught up to its embitterment, and to lasting detriment to the Quenya tongue. Had peace been maintained there can be no doubt that the advice of Fëanor, with which all the other lore-masters privately or openly agreed, would have prevailed."

- Shibboleth of Fëanor, HoME XII, The Peoples of Middle-Earth

From this excerpt it also becomes very clear that this change was a political move and Fëanor had every right to be upset by yet another attempt at diminishing his mother's memory and her legacy.

In conclusion, everybody who adhered to the change of þ to s are in the wrong and are speaking broken Quenya. Imagine what would happen if we decided to make the same change in the English language and substitute the 'th' letter/sound with the 's' letter/sound. The meaning of some words would become entirely different.

Þink [think] -> Sink ; Þin [thin] -> Sin ; Þank (thank) -> Sank

About the Thorn (Þ, þ)

The thorn, as a letter, gets a lot of mention in the Silm Fandom, for obvious reasons. For such a petty linguistic fight in a very grand story, it’s pretty emblematic of Feanor and all his… Feanor-ness. It’s also a subtle, fun way to show loyalties through language!

That being said, I see a lot of people using the Thorn incorrectly, because the Shibboleth doesn’t explain it all that well and it’s pretty obscure trivia knowledge at this point. But I have too much trivia. So here’s a short run down on the Thorn- what it is, and what it isn’t- for all your general linguistic pettiness needs!

þ is a letter. It is pronounced ‘th’. 

It is not an alternative pronunciation for ‘s’.

It is an additional letter to the alphabet, an alphabet which would have already contained the letter ‘s’.

Historical and Linguistic explanation under the cut.

Keep reading

[benefits1986]

numb

Numbing the pain doesn't take the pain away.

NGL, Vidi's condition is creeping in. He remains strong but I can definitely see him downplaying his pain. And this triggers the last chapter with me and mom. Every time I see how shallow his breaths are during his "deep" sleep, I cringe. Seeing Vici beside him more often these days is also heartbreaking.

My first two dogs are really facing the realities that come with being senior dogs. Since they are my first official pets, I still ask myself if I've been a decent pet parent to them. I know the answer is yes, but, there I go again and again.

I have been trying to numb this grief for the past weeks, but as a recovering avoidant, sige, let the emotions march in. Shemay. Indeed, having pets teaches people like me to be forcefully kinder and softer. UGH. Hahahahahaha. Two words that are not my strong suit. However, whenever I stare at Vidi's brown eyes, wala e. Finished na. LELS. And hopefully, this time around, I'd be able to up the ante of my social experiment called "leaning into vulnerability" for reallzzzz kahit ayoko talaga. HUY.

That's also the reason why I try to spend more time at home even when I can go all out in gala mode as a takas girl. Absence numbs feelings. Absence keeps the real stuff away even for a while. LELS. But here I am shit and all. Not powering through, but coming through, bit by bit.

And this time around, I am trying my friggin' best to choose to be thankful for the "bonus" time that I get with Vidi through it all. It's really not too bad to have 12 years with these babes. Not too shabby for a super clueless pet mom with zero experience and zero fucks to give then, too. As my soul sis said, it's about time that we "celebrate" our small steps. We've been bonding over her free +1 for the Positive Intelligence app. LOL. We're in that era na. Hahahahaha. It used to be My Fitness Pal ages ago and Plurk. And nakakatawa din talaga kasi looking at our 20s, it's a shitshow talaga.

Anyhow, I feel so much better now. Hassle talaga pero let's go. PS: Tawang-tawa ako kasi tinanong ako kung oks pa rin ba if mag-breakfast buffet kami sa isang trending sa South na nagkaroon ng shitshow involving a pet-friendly policy na may bias.

Sabi ko naman, honestly speaking, I don't have any hard feelings about it, though the apology was done in very, very poor taste. And for sure, they'd do better. Why do we keep canceling just because something is not aligned with our "core" agad-agad? Parang corned beef lang 'yan e. Don't hate the product just because the maker is fucked up in your universe. Parang art and artist lang din 'yan e. Parang Sheiiiiiin lang 'yan pero oks lang Zarrraaa and H&&&&EM? LELS. Ako lang 'yan a. Ako lang.

[skyeventide]

daddy issues this and that but I think Celegorm has mommy issues actually. 

look hear me out, he is ride or die for his father, it’s pretty obvious. and I am absolutely certain that pre-darkening and everything, the one in the family who enforced things like “apologising” and “following norms of good behaviour” and “making amends, and grounding you if you fail to do so” just... was not Feanor. I know it’s a common take to make him strict with discipline but I just do not see it. what I see is actually a father who backs his sons up even if they’re wrong, depending on the reason of a dispute, out of sheer personal affection. and if they’re right? then whatever else they did is not their or his problem, because they are right. and that comes first. but, on the other hand, I see a Nerdanel who, even if they’re right, still pushes for a mediating behaviour — yes, you are right, but you shouldn’t have done what you did even so; I see a Nerdanel who, when they’re wrong, will say so, and will insist for acknowledgement of that as a first step to fix the situation. 

and look, I think Celegorm gets a lot of that from her. far from the only one, but I feel he especially gets it, because anything and everything we’ve seen from him shows a tendency to double down, no matter what. this man does not feel sorry, and does not say sorry. he used to, but the more in late days he grows estranged from his mother, and the more he attaches himself to his father (and oh boy does he attach himself to his father), the more her approach to educating and disciplining cements in a sense of rejection. from her side but also, crucially, from his perspective of her — and eventually as rejection from him too. it isn’t even anger towards her, but a radical refusal; and telling someone “you are wrong actually” is sometimes a very strong form of love (the ability to call a wrongdoing out even as you love someone), but I don’t feel he would perceive it as such.

[fingons-rad-harp]

i feel like we don’t talk about the fact that the feanorians would have called the sindar “Þindar”

[ask-theredman]

"Stories? From people at the Institute? About me?" He scoffs. "There's only two here who know me enough to speak truths. All else is nothing but."

Not even the Dean, a telepath, knows him.

"People have a tendency of making things up about me: Overtime, they can no longer be distinguished from reality, and I have to live with that." He brought his hands together, with his index fingers sticking out and pointing downwards. "Some luckily die out, but others... Linger with me."

Origen is a prime example of making stories that have stayed around for far too long.

"This is why I prefer not to rely on 'stories' about people to know who they actually are. There's just too many embellishment, not enough cohesion." He shrugs. "Reality isn't often that crazy and when it is, well, legends are born."

It was his turn to cock his head at her, as he rested his elbows on the desk.

"Did my words get lost in translation to you...?" He raised a brow, looking at her suspiciously. "I don't think I could be more direct than that... Let's try this one more time."

He scratched his beard and momentarily closed his eyes, seemingly thinking of way to make her better see where he was getting at. Finally, he opened his eyes again and spread his arms. "On n'a qu'à faire ça de façon directe, pas besoin de traduction de ton côté sous ce format."

"Pour faire très simple, je n'ai pas arrêté d'entendre des 'Kiera' par-ci, des 'Kiera' par-là ces derniers temps. Que ce soit de Raven ou Margali, tu as fait le tour de gens que je considère comme très proches de moi." Il raconte succinctement.

"Mais certaines choses que j'entends n'ont pas de sens." Durant sa tirade, sa queue continua d'osciller à une régularité déconcertante. "Tu ne leur dis visiblement pas tout, mais elles ne s'en inquiètent pas pour autant."

Au contraire, cela semble même amuser l'une d'entre elles qui est plus qu'enthousiasmée à l'idée de mener l'enquête.

"Et Kurt dans cette histoire ? N'en parlons pas..." Il secoue sa tête, fatigué à la pensée même de la chose.

C'est parfois difficile d'être objectif quand on est amoureux. Alors quand on est perpétuellement amouraché comme Kurt, c'est presque impossible.

"Je suis venu en personne te rencontrer car je préfère être absolument sûr de qui j'ai potentiellement affaire dans mon quotidien et ne pas avoir de mauvaises surprises." Il la regarde fixement. "C'est parfaitement compréhensible comme raison, non ? "

Normalement, tout a été dit... Pour la deuxième fois. Cinq minutes ne sont même pas passées qu'il se sent déjà las. Il déteste vraiment se répéter. Si les choses se poursuivent ainsi, il va falloir qu'il creuse plus profondément que prévu lors de son enquête avec Raven...

"Je suis sûr que tu aurais fait de même... Peut-être est-ce même pour cela que cette conversation ne s'est pas finie à l'entrée de cette pièce. Après tout, " Insinua Azazel. "Tu as dû entendre autant d'histoire sur moi que j'en ai entendu sur toi, au point de ne plus trop savoir qu'en faire."

Subtitles: [ON] "Let's be straightforward, no need to do any translation on your side this way." "To put it really simply, I haven't stopped hearing about 'Kiera' this, 'Kiera' that as of late. Be it from Raven or Margali, you've made your way to all the people I consider to be really dear close to me." "But some of the things I hear make no sense. You obviously aren't telling them everything, but that doesn't worry them. And Kurt in this situation? It speaks for itself..." "I came in person to meet you to be absolutely sure of who I'm potentially dealing with in my everyday life and not get any bad surprises. It's a perfectly understandable reason, no?"

"I'm sure you would have done the same... Maybe it is why this conversation hasn't ended at the entrance of this room. After all, you must have heard as many stories about me as I did about you to the point where you don't know what to make of them."

Between his frequent visits, the Xavier Institute has become quite a familiar place to Azazel nowadays. He wasn't sure how that came to be and what the Dean was planning behind the scenes, but it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up on, especially if it was to see Kurt or Raven in a more serene setting.

Today, however, he wasn't meeting either of them.

In fact, he was meeting someone he only ever heard from, not even seen with his own two eyes yet.

After having a few of his red bamfs look around the large mansion, her location was finally pinpointed in the music room she appears to be teaching at.

It was late in the afternoon at the end of class when he decided to teleport right outside and walk in unprompted while she was busy clearing the whiteboard at the far end of the room.

Passing through the open door, he could see a timetable showing that he came on a long day following about 4 consecutive sessions...

"I heard much about you and I thought it was the perfect time to finally meet face to face, Kiera."

It appears he was about to make her day even longer with this last-minute parents-teacher meeting.

Kiera stiffened, then resumed her task. Before turning to look at him.

She moves with a catlike grace walking closer to him.

“I appreciate your not springing in on me. I tend to be a bit jumpy.” She confesses gesturing to one of the desks the students use for him to take a seat.

“I don’t ever meet people I want to impress face to face monsieur.” She replies tapping her mask.

“I take it nobody knows you are here, then why have you come?” She takes a seat on her teaching desk, nails drumming against the wooden surface.

[tanoraqui]

Sons of Fëanor: Linguistic Prescriptivists or Descriptivists?

(follow-up to this post)

Maedhros: True Prescriptivist, Very Invested. If you went deep into Maedhros’s subconscious, or maybe like semiconscious, you’d find a chart in which Column 1 is Father’s Ongoing Causes - ranging from “building a new Gemcutters Guild Hall” to “300th Anniversary Getaway with Mother” to “Reviling the Descendants of Indis” (further sub-categorized by individual) - and the other columns are a scale ranging from “Truly Wholeheartedly Support in Every Way” to “Publicly Support, Covertly Attempt to Mitigate” to “Wholeheartedly Disagree and Disavow in Every Way.” No causes have check marks in that last category, though there are a number in the preceding category, “Passively Disagree; Avoid Debate with All,” including for several descendants of Indis. (There used to be even more. Marks have been erased and rewritten everywhere, over time.) UNFORTUNATELY, the cause “Prescriptivist Linguistics” is firmly in the Truly Wholeheartedly Support in Every Way category. It was easy, okay. It’s such a simple, easy thing to support (especially while covertly mitigating other things). It has larger philosophical implications, sure, but the core of the issue is an aching void where a grandmother and mother should be, which does ache in Maedhros as well, and his father generally ignores the larger philosophical implications anyway, So why should Maedhros care about them! Language has definitive rules! It objectively does, one of which is that the Þ is a common and important letter, and everyone else is petulantly making trouble about it for no reason!

(This is Maedhros’s greatest flaw as a person; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.)

Maglor: True Descriptivist (Respectful of Names), Very Invested but Avoids Argument. Maglor is a writer of Songs and songs; he plays around with language far too much not to know and love it for just that: being an ever-flexible plaything. He both sings and speaks whichever sounds finest to him in the moment, and his father begrudgingly accepts this as a matter of craft rather than a linguistic or even (family) politics. One is permitted to break the rules after learning them exhaustively, after all; that is how much of the best art happens. (Maglor deliberately diminishes the sa-si-ing in Formenos, though, as Fëanor’s temper grows ever worse.) And Maglor always crafts any lyric so as to support the correct pronunciation of Miriel Þerindë. He’s not an animal.

Celegorm: True Prescriptivist, Moderately Invested. Celegorm is a Prescriptivist on principle of family loyalty, but the only reason he really cares is that one time, some pointed out that even the languages of animals change naturally over time, and he knows and admits that, so why can’t he accept it for Elves? And Celegorm off the top of his head retorted that no creature but Elves builds tall walls of stone where nature did not place them, nor forges rings, blows glass, bakes bread, or a hundred other things that don’t happen “naturally.” So why should their language be like that of animals? Why shouldn’t they have rules as unyielding as stone walls or forged blades? And he was so proud of that argument, which really isn’t bad, that he pulled it out at every opportunity henceforth, and may never be persuaded otherwise.

Caranthir: Dutiful Prescriptivist, Minimally Invested. If asked offhand, will toe the family line. More often, will snap out whatever position is either most likely to start a fight or most likely to end whatever fight is already happening, depending on his mood. Really thinks there are better things to shout about.

Curufin: Is Going to get a Good Grade in Agreeing With Father, a Thing that is Both Normal To Want and Possible To Achieve. ‘Nuff said. (Deep DEEP deep down recognizes that language evolves, that’s what makes it cool, and incidentally this is all an incredibly stupid debate and can he please get back to the forge.)

Amrod: Dutiful Prescriptivist, Secret Descriptivist, Moderately Invested. I headcanon that the twins were born shortly after the creation of the Silmarils (I headcanon that Nerdanel and Fëanor were gossip!infamous for getting baby-making levels of horny whenever one of them created a particularly impressive thing; the Silmarils inspired twins), so they never really know a time when things aren’t getting...steadily worse and worse, in the politics of Tirion at large and the House of Finwë in particular. So neither Ambarussa would dream of saying sa-si... Except Amrod does, in fact. Dream of it. Because he’s done some research and he’s like 95% sure their father is just being wantonly emotional and covering it up with hypocrisy and just plain stupidity, about this particular issue.

Amras: Dutiful Prescriptivist, Rebellious/Fraternally Supportive Descriptivist, Minimally Invested: See above, but doesn’t really care that much...but Amrod does (later: did). So late in the Formenos era he started experimenting with a dash of dramatic teenage rebellion in the form of Þ, and after Losgar he stops being dramatic about it but one time a few years into Maglor’s terrible reign as Regent-King, he and Celegorm get into a screaming match over “Þerindë” vs “Serindë”, among other things, and Amras never speaks with a Fëanorian lisp for the rest of his time in Beleriand. (After eventual reincarnation, he concedes Þerindë, but that’s it. Language evolves. It’s fine.)

Others of Note:

Fingon: True Descriptivist, Very Invested. This is possibly the only topic on which Fingon and Maedhros will get into genuinely heated fights. Especially when it’s a thinly veiled metaphor for fighting about their loyalties to their respective fathers, but also when it’s literally a fight about linguistic philosophy. Fingon is perfectly capable of heart-stirring poetry, eloquent court language, and sesquipedalian intellectual debate, but when he’s just having fun, his default state is Buffyspeak. 

Turgon: Dutiful Descriptivist, Secret Prescriptivist, Moderately Invested. Toes the family line, of course, if only because Fëanor is an asshole. But secretly, secretly, is entirely swayed by Celegorm’s argument. Would literally not admit this under 1000 years torture in the depths of Angband, and I mean literally.

Fëanor: Begrudgingly Comes Around. It would take literal millennia of therapy for Fëanor to admit that maaaybe this isn’t about linguistic theory, maaaaaaaybe it’s really about his desperate need to keep around any part of his mother that he can. But isn’t that what the Halls of Mandos are for? (With help from Irmo, Estë, and Nienna?) Not that he comes out without a lisp, when they finally do let him out. More like...he slowly concedes, over some large number of years of being reembodied, that maybe he can...dial this debate back. For real. But! A lot of his personal pride and reputation is still invested in it (and he’s not going to let people mispronounce his mother’s literal epessë), so he just dials it back to “implicitly admitting that maybe this is slightly silly but it’s a matter of Principle (and personal emotional investment; please humor me)! we’re arguing but it’s a jokey, ‘sibling’ argument, like the kids have!” You know, the sort where you genuinely hold opposing opinions but you’re deliberately acting melodramatic about them because it’s fun? And everyone else is pretty okay to let this become something they...tease each other about. Nobody else (except maybe Nerdanel) knows that Fëanor has actually changed his mind (except about “Þerindë” itself).

Then one day in like the Fifth Age, Fëanor is enduring a particularly annoying conversation at some sort of royal event, with some particularly insipid courier, and the exact matter of insipidity causes him to snap somewhat loudly, “Language evolves, you idiot. It cannot be ordained.” And from halfway across the room, Fingolfin’s head whips around like an owl, and in the subsequent fight about who said and/or heard what, they nearly draw swords on each other in the king’s hall again.*

*I know it was only Fëanor the first time. I am not ruling out the possibility that over the course of Fëanor’s inevitably messy post-reembodiment reconciliation with his extended family, it happened mutually at least once.

[x-infernhoes-x]

She’s My Collar- Basilio x Reader

Title: She’s My Collar

Genre: Romance, Smut, Porn with Plot

Warning(s): Mentions of Semi-Public Sex, Car Sex, Mentions of Alcohol, Implied Consent, Basilio nearly murdering someone because they spoke badly about you

Description: KAI IF YOU’RE READING THIS, THIS ONE’S FOR YOU AND ALL OF YOU BASILIO SIMPS 

NOTE SOMETIME AROUND 3:00 AM YESTERDAY NAWALA YUNG ORIGINAL PUTANG INA I WAS THIS CLOSE ON FINISHING IT SHDJGFHJBDKJBSEDVGSJHGBKHGSFKJBGBKJGBJGLJBGWL  AN HOUR’S WORTH OF WRITING G O N E AND I HAD TO REWRITE EVERYTHING I AM STRESSED AND DSBJKGBKJFSDGNB SO ENJOY.

4:31 AM NOTE UPDATE YESTERDAY: langya ayoko na. matutulog na nga ako, sakit na ng likod ko.

6:50 PM NOTE TODAY: I’M GOING TO FINISH THIS BEFORE MIDNIGHT COMES. ALSO, DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE KIDS!!

12:10 AM NOTE TODAY: The note above this one is a lie. I managed to continue this after family night lmao but enjoy still. Tried my best to make it gender-neutral as possible but yeah :’) I kinda failed successfully I think???

  You and Basilio have been dating for quite some time now. Although he was a messy guy you made sure that you had his back and helped him out to work on how to keep his sloppy tendencies at bay and in turn he would shower you with love and affection that you would usually get from the demi-god of war. Basilio was the perfect guy, he was a sweet lad who made your lonely days better, he made sure that you were cared for in any shape or form and he always had your back in everything and he would give you anything you would ask for in the world. The two of you barely even fought and if you were to fight, it would be more of a joke one than an all-out screaming match. He was the best thing that has ever happened to you and you constantly thank Bathala for it and Basilio thought the same. The two of you were a match made in heaven.

 Although despite your busy schedules keeping the two of you apart, you both made sure that you and your loving boyfriend would get the chance to hang out together. Often, you and Basilio would frequent the Diabolical together, just basking in each other's presence, tucked away in some booth Hank had reserved for the two of you, or sitting by the bar just chatting about each other’s day. You could recall Hank telling you that whenever you were around or that when someone ever mentions your name, Basilio seemed to calm down and would eagerly listen into whatever conversation had said your name. There was a time where Basilio nearly knocked someone’s teeth out because they were talking badly of you and it took Crispin, Maliksi, Hannah, Amie, Alex, and Hank himself to hold back the younger twin and prevent him from punching someone’s lights or teeth out or even prevent a murder from ever happening.

 “Alam mo, (Y/N) pag naririnig ni Basilio na dadaan ka rito, parang siyang aso na di mapakali. Kulang nalang na magkaroon siya ng buntot e.” Hank joked as he was cleaning the freshly washed glass, watching Basilio flush red, face buried into his forearm as he groaned in response while you let out a small chuckle.

 Now looking back, that memory seemed to be far away from you. Tonight happened to be your anniversary with Basilio and instead of a cozy night in, he wanted to do something different.  Basilio wanted to take you out dancing and bar hopping around Bonifacio Global City’s luxurious bars (sometimes you wondered to yourself how the hell can Basilio afford this.) and maybe take you sight seeing around the place when you got the time. Pacing around your living room in your apartment, you were about to shoot him a text message when a knock at your door had interrupted you from doing so, nearly dropping your phone in the process. “Sandali  lang!” you yelled to whoever was outside the door. If there was one thing you learned from dating Basilio, it was being vigilant. You had to make sure that the person on the other side of your door was your boyfriend and not some kind of Aswang or any malicious person who had a personal grudge against the twins and Alex. Taking a peek at the pee hole your door had, you were greeted by the sight of your boyfriend, Basilio grinning up at you as he waved. Instead of wearing his suit, Basilio was in his casual clothing for tonight, his long silken locks pulled back in a half-up, half-down man-bun.

 Opening the door, you then welcomed him with open arms before proceeding to smack him playfully on his arm, an amused smirk on your lips as you opened your mouth to speak, your tone light and teasing, “Took you long enough! Siguro na-traffic ka no?” Basilio could only roll his dark eyes at you as he placed a loving kiss upon your head. “Hindi a, si Kuya Crispin kasi e, sobrang tagal niya sa banyo kaya ayun.” Pulling himself away from you, he then offered his arm for you to take with a grin, his head tilting towards the direction of the door as he spoke, “So ano? Tara na?” “Siyempre naman.”  

 After making sure your apartment was locked, the two of you went down towards the direction of the parking lot and took a couple few selfies inside the elevator, you and Basilio were off. While in the car, the both of you would scream along to the lyrics of Ang Huling El Bimbo by Eraserheads while in traffic. On your way to BGC, both of you were surprised to see Maliksi and his significant by the stoplight, taking the advantage of the long-ass stop to chat with the Prince of the Tikbalangs and his fiancé. Your conversation was cut short when the stoplight had changed from red to green, saying your goodbyes to each other as Basilio drove away to your very first destination, which was none other than XYLO at The Palace.

  In all honesty, you’ve heard about this bar but it was the first time you got to enter the place itself. The both of you got lucky that the place wasn’t as packed and that you got there early before the actual party had started. Both you and Basilio then made your way over to the bar to grab your first drinks of the night. The two of you chatted for a while, occasionally nodding your heads to the beat of the song. After a while, the night seemed to kick in and both of you were already at what seemed to be your 3rd or 4th bar of the night, this time you and Basilio were jumping up and down to DJ Khalid’s song ‘All I Do Is Win’ before the both of you screamed along with the rest of the patrons, “Putang Ina, Alak Pa!”  and time seemed to flow faster than ever as you and your loving boyfriend went in and about around BGC’s classiest bars, downing every single drink you two could manage and take or even dance along to the songs the bars provided while occasionally sharing a kiss here and there, not minding the reek of alcohol and sweat clinging on each other’s bodies as the two of you laughed.

 Sometime around 10:30, you and Basilio were shitfaced to oblivion but both of you were used to it. You had lost count on how many drinks you’ve managed to down yet you and Basilio couldn’t care less, you were certain that you heard your phones ring but you two never got the chance to answer them because Basilio was busy doing body shots on you or you making out with your boyfriend in some hidden corner of the bar. You were starting to get the hint that after your little make-out session at Club Haze, he was focused on one thing and you knew what that meant, despite being inebriated out of your wits. So what do you do? Put on a show for him of course.

 You knew Basilio was sitting by the bar because you told him you were going to use the bathroom to freshen up a little bit since the club felt a little bit humid. What he didn’t expect was you sashaying over to where the dance floor, the last notes of Nelly Furtado’s Maneater fading away only to be replaced by Doja Cat’s Streets. To you, the sound seemed to have slowed down and you weren’t sure because it was the alcohol’s effects taking over, nobody else in the club mattered but your boyfriend alone.  The figures around you seemed to blur and Basilio was the only one you had your eyes on as your body moved to the beat, eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted, and even from afar, you could see your demi-god of a boyfriend shuffle in his seat, his cheeks brightly flushed even under the lights of the dark club (yes, Basilio even tried to hide his raging boner from everyone but he was failing miserably). You knew that he was watching you closely like a predator ready to strike and even from afar you can tell that he was getting impatient with your games and that made you smirk. You knew that Basilio had a thing for Semi-Public sex and your several other experiences with him were proof of that, hell the two of you almost got caught one time and you were internally thankful that you weren’t. But tonight, Basilio’s going to abide by the rules of your own game and not his.

The opening bass beat from Beyonce’s Yonce/Partition was your cue to take things up a notch by making your way over to the bar where you had stood upon the counter (you had asked the bartender and the rest of the patrons who hung around the bar save for Basilio in advance and they seemed to agree with it just as long as you were careful) and made your way down the counter, hips sashaying and your body with every beat and drop before stopping to where he was, a smirk on your face, your hands running up from your thighs and right past your chest in a sensual manner, leaning in just so you could ghost your lips over Basilio’s eagerly waiting ones before pulling away with a wink. Once your little show was done and you had gone down from your counter with the help of the bartender you had just spoken to before making your way over to the dance floor once more to dance just as your song, She’s My Collar by Gorillaz began to play only to be caught short when you felt a hand grab you by the wrist.

Despite being drunk you were still smart and quick to retaliate towards whoever had grabbed you only to be surprised to be looking right directly at your boyfriend’s dark obsidian gaze, his breath slow and ragged and you knew you were in it for real this time the moment he said, “We’re leaving.” In a tone, you’ve never heard from him before and that seemed to send shivers and chills up your spine as he dragged you away from the bar to head right outside.

Honestly, the whole trip back to the car seemed to pass you by like a blur, you would occasionally stumble on your own feet, which prompted Basilio to sling you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a sack of potatoes (at least it gave you a perfect view of his ass). The moment you arrived at your car, however, you were thrown haphazardly into the backseat after Basilio had unlocked the door with ease and then entered the vehicle as well, quickly pulling you up on his lap where he locked his lips with you in a heated kiss, hands roaming around your body with such need and you could feel his erection straining against the fabric of his dark jeans. You were surprised at first but once the initial shock and surprise had worn off, you kissed him back as well with the same passion and need that he emulated from his kiss, your fingers and hands made a quick undo of his man-bun and top, hastily unbuttoning them, eager to touch the skin underneath it and leave marks on it. Basilio could only groan in response to your touches, his tongue exploring your mouth like uncharted territory, his hands groping your behind with such force that made you moan out his name, a quiet hiss of “Tangina.” Soon followed your surprise.

 In your mayhem of desire and lust, you didn’t notice Basilio play Chase Atlantic’s song Devilish on the radio.

 Clothes were thrown around and about in the space of the car and in that blur of clothing being discarded around, you were honestly surprised when Basilio had lifted up your lower half towards him, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach and thighs before his head disappeared in between your legs, bestowing you the best oral you’ve ever had received from him in your years of dating. You couldn’t thrash around with him holding you so tightly against his face as he went down on you but your hands were free to roam and tug at his long silken locks, his name spoken like a prayer  and just as you were about to reach your peak, he had pulled away from you, a sadistic yet innocent smirk placed upon his now glistening chin and lips coated in your slick as he spoke, “Not yet, babe.”  Winking at you, he gingerly set you down before he leaned over to where his now discarded jeans were as he pulled out his wallet, fishing out a condom and a small pack of lube for him to use. Once the foil was open and the rubber was on his already hard dick, he then proceeded to open the pack of lube, rubbing it on his length before instructing you to get on your hands and your ass up for him.

 And by Bathala you began to see stars the moment he had entered you. Your nails seemed to dig on the dark leather surface of the car’s upholstery, your back arched to the extreme and you were certain that you could feel Basilio trailing kisses along the expanse of your neck, shoulders, and back, his hands guiding you on his length while yours snaked around to reach for him, tilting your head sidewards to catch his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, his manhood still relentless at fucking you senseless and in between the thrusts and moans, you were thankful that the windows were tinted from the outside or else the two of you would’ve been caught. Throughout the whole night, you two spent it by doing it on every single surface inside the car, doing every single position the two of you could think of, taking each other to new heights with every pose the two of you did, and yes, let’s just say you were sore the morning after that.

 Once the morning came around, the two of you were still naked and you were sure that after your last round with your loving boyfriend, you felt the waves of your hang-over wash over you like a wave, making you groan out in pain. Everything was sore with you and your body was littered with hickies, bruises, and scratch marks while Basilio, who had his healing factor with him thanks to his demi-god status, was relatively unscathed but he did have some hickies of his own to present to the world. Shuffling, you gently nudged Basilio awake as you spoke, “Babe, anong oras na??”

 At your action, your boyfriend, still groggy from sleep, could only groan at this, his hand reaching out to search for his mobile phone to check the time. Squinting, he then saw the time on his phone but the color on his face seemed to drain the moment he saw several missed calls and messages from his twin brother and the Babaylan-Mandirigma herself. “SHIT!” Basilio managed to cry out of sheer panic, his head accidentally hitting against the roof of the car, making him hiss even more, hands holding the spot where he had hit his head. “Lagot tayo kay Bossing, (Y/N), kagabi pa niya tayo tinatwagan kasama ni Kuya Crispin.” At the mere mention of Alex and Crispin’s name, you seemed to understand the sense of urgency before the two of you began to clean up the car, dressing up as you did so, attempting to make yourselves look more presentable and cover the tracks from yesterday’s events. Once done, Basilio was driving like a speeding madman in a rush to head back where his brother and Alex were at.

 It took him at least an hour to arrive at their destination with Alex taking the role as today’s designated driver while Basilio sat in the back with his brother. “San ba kayo galing? Kagabi pa namin kayo tinatawagan ni Crispin, (Y/N), Basilio. Ano ba nangyare, ha?” Alex spoke, her eyes flickering over to where Basilio was, sheepishly scratching the back of his head as he spoke, “Sensya na ho, Bossing. Nag-sight seeing kasi kami ni (Y/N) kagabi tas nag-bar hoping kami tas pagkatapos nakatulog kami dito sa kotse.” A little doubtful of this, Alex could only glance at you from the corner of her eye, expecting for you to react but you held your emotions close to your heart as you spoke, “Totoo po yung sinasabi ni Basilio, bossing. Di po naming sadya na di kayo replyan ni Crispin. Di na po mauulit.” Nodding, Alex then excused the both of you and the car ride was silent, save for the fact that the radio was playing Last Friday Night by Katy Perry. You did feel a little bit cold however and you couldn’t help the fact that something was missing until Crispin screamed out in surprise, horror, and disgust, finally noticing the thing you were missing. Ah shit. “TANGINA BASILIO, ANO TO!?!?!” Crispin managed to yell out, holding up your lace underwear for everyone in the car to see with Basilio quickly snatching the piece of clothing away from his brother, tucking it in his pocket before he responded, “ANONG-ANO KA DIYAN KUYA!?! WALA KANG NAKITA!!”

You silently prayed to Bathala for him to forgive you but you were sure as hell Alex won’t. You made a mental note to not ever do it in the car you guys use for missions ever again.

[yikesharringrove]

Okay episode three let’s gooooo

Thesis statement: this is, so far, the scariest season, and I say that as a compliment. Vecna has interesting character design, although I’m pretty over cgi monsters. Give us some practical effects. Get Doug Jones in that slimey lil suit. That’s what was so good about the first season. I like the horror movies vibes, but I said this in my evaluation of ep 1, I miss the low budget monster mash that was season 1. They’ve gotten too big for their britches by now. I like how we’ve kind of switched for el always being the center of it all to Max being the center of this. Not that El isn’t still important to the story, I just like that it’s not something coming to kill el AGAIN. If they are teasing Steve and Nancy I’m gonna freak out. Then breaking up and both moving on was major character development for them BOTH. don’t ruin it like this I’m begging please.

Okay, here are the notey notes:

SAM OWENS SAM OWENS SAM OWENS

“She was trained for this very thing. Remote assassinations” sooooo, maybe vecna is one of the kids? Like one that survived that weird attack that should’ve maybe been mentioned before now in a weird flashback?

Okay this is the first time I’ve ever really liked Jonathan and it’s bc he’s High and Weird.

“Hi Murray 😄” “you kids like risotto?” “Yeah 😄🤪”

“She didn’t look fine” mike literally fuck off

Okay el has killed a lot of people and monsters and things angela took a skate to the face she is literally going to be fine and also never bully you again just chill.

Yeah the upside down is connecting to vecna, I really don’t think he’s an upside down guy.

“We’re not killers like Eddie” literally shut up Jason I wanna attack YOU with a skate.

Steve doing his fruity little wave somebody FUCK this man.

Dustin: there’s nothing to worry about

Eddie: *is wanted for murder* ??????

Nancy’s hairpin is the trans flag colors happy pride

Everyone getting out of Steve’s car like they’re the fucking Scooby Gang.

El pulling out the receipts of mike only saying “from” love that gal.

Jonathan saying he’s el’s brother and then saying stepbrother is amazing on all levels. He IS her brother but also his mom DID marry hop so he IS her stepbrother. Love it.

Steve saying “we’re at the trailer park. should we not be here?” When they’re figuring out what connects Fred and Chrissy is why he’s the first bimbo to survive the first act of the horror movie.

THEY BETTER NOT WITH THIS STEVE AND NANCY BULLSHIT. THEY BETTER NOT.

Steve: wipe your feet

Dustin: *aggressively wipes foot inside car”

Steve: oN tHe OuTsIdE nOt On ThE iNsIdE

Steve: always the babysitter. Always the GODDAMN babysitter

(Someone has been wound a lil right since their bf died. Long time no dick, huh steve?)

How can I join the weirdo garage band????? PLEASE. The drummer. I want gemder. Gimme your gemder 🔪🔪🔪

Sorry these cops interrogating this CHILD without speaking to a parent????

“Did you wanna kill her?” BRO WHAT

“We’re her brothers. And we’re family.” YES YOU ARE YES YOU ARE WILL

I spy a Volkswagen thing. My mom’s first car was a 1973 red thing and we still have it. It’s how I learned to drive stick lol

FINALLY they gave Joyce the hair she deserves. Sis got a full blowout.

Jesus, hop is really doing anything to get the fuck outta here

“So he’s a grandpa murderer who can turn invisible and lift people into the air” Robin STOP Nancy so clearly wants to claw her skin off this is amazing what a duo.

“I don’t really have a filter or understand social cues” bro. neurodivergent robin for the WIN.

“I’m missing collarbones, not eyes” STOP DUSTIN

“When you basically threw yourself at Nance” if this season ends with Steve and Nancy I’m cancelling my whole Netflix subscription. No more Netflix for the whole family. FUCK THAT.

This whole Steve and Dustin car chat made me witch cackle. “I’ll punch you so hard in the face that your teeth will fall back out” literally brothers. BROTHERS.

Max looked her shrink dead in the eye and said fuck the police.

Oh el is going to JAIL jail.

Actually nevermind rip to these guards about to be killed dead.

I LOVE a woman who wears pantyhose under slacks. Queen.

Meanwhile Hopper is cutting off his foot like it’s the first saw movie.

Steve and robin get along so well because they’re both the most annoying people alive I love them.

“Bigfoot is absolutely real” okay big time weirdo robin is EXACTLY what I needed

The basketball team avenging Chrissy like I did NOT sign up to watch riverdale on this night

I’m not saying stranger things has directly copied tremors. But that’s exactly what I’m saying.

GO LUCAS GO LUCAS GO

Sam Owens wins #1 dram queen award

[le-roi-des-bulgares]

Voltaire writes back to Frederick...

... whom he hasn’t been in regular contact with for more or less four years.

Frederick had refused Voltaire’s asking for permission to go back to Potsdam in late 1753; avoided writing to him directly but let Abbé de Prades take up the correspondence; wrote and published a satirical ‘Portrait of M. de Voltaire’ in 1756.

Despite all the name-calling (fou, méchant, ~extraordinare~, etc.) to third parties, all the prayers to heaven that Voltaire never comes back, on Jan 19th 1757, Frederick wrote a ‘tender letter’ to Voltaire, days after Russia declared her entrance into the war.

At some point in summer 1757, with Frederick’s first major defeat at the Battle of Kolin, his mother’s death, the Prussian retreat from Bohemia, he fell into a deep depression (a haunting representation painted by Menzel) and meditated suicide. Either encouraged by Wilhelmine or voluntarily, he wrote to Voltaire, thus virtually reopened their regular correspondence.

The letter hasn't been found since (as the Jan 19th one, & many others from this period), but those survived still help construct a sense of it, as well as the brief personal warmth shown between Voltaire & Frederick - both said they couldn’t care less.

Here is a collection of some extracts which I like and hope can serve to paint this exchange of letters between F & V, with Wilhelmine as their mediator, in a somewhat clearer light. These are from letters written from July to December 1757 by Voltaire, Wilhelmine and Frederick. All originals are taken from Edition Garnier & Œuvres de Frédéric le Grand. Translations are mine. Emphasis in texts are made by me. my english and french are both not so good, but i try;; so feel free to critique my usage of words etc.! 

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Frédéric au marquis d'Argens, (Leitmeritz), 19 juillet 1757.

Mon cher marquis, regardez-moi comme une muraille battue en brèche par l'infortune depuis deux ans. Je suis ébranlé de tous côtés. Malheurs domestiques, afflictions secrètes, malheurs publics, calamités qui s'apprêtent : voilà ma nourriture. Cependant ne pensez pas que je mollisse. Dussent tous les éléments périr, je me verrai ensevelir sous leurs débris avec le sang-froid dont je vous écris.

My dear marquis, see me as a wall breached by two years’ misfortunes. I am shaken on all sides. Domestic misfortunes, secret afflictions, public misfortunes, looming calamities: these are my food. Do not think that I have given away, however. Must that all elements perish, I will bury myself underneath their debris, with the cold-blood with which I am writing to you.

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 [Frederic wrote to Voltaire at some point in mid-august 1757, sent to him at Les Delices in Geneva via Wilhelmine.]

De Margrave la Baireuth à Voltaire. Le 19 août.

Je suis dans un état affreux, et ne survivrai pas à la destruction de ma maison et de ma famille. C’est l’unique consolation qui me reste. Vous aurez de beaux sujets de tragédies à travailler. Ô temps ! ô mœurs ! Vous ferez peut-être verser des larmes par une représentation illusoire, tandis qu’on contemple d’un œil sec les malheurs de toute une maison contre laquelle, dans le fond, on n’a aucune plainte réelle.

I am in an awful state, and I will not survive my house and my family’s destruction. This is the only consolation left for me. You will have handsome subjects of tragedies to work on. O time! O morals! You will perhaps make tears pour down by an illusory representation, while people contemplate on the misfortunes of a whole house with a dry eye against that which, deep down, they do not have any real pity for.

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  Voltaire à M. le Maréchal Duc de Richelieu. (a vous seul.) [Août 1757.]

Le roi de Prusse s’est remis à m’écrire avec quelque confiance. Il me mande qu’il est résolu de se tuer, s’il est sans ressource ; et madame la margrave sa sœur m’écrit qu’elle finira sa vie si le roi son frère finit la sienne.

The king of Prussia started to write to me with some trust again. He tells me that he resolved to kill himself if he is without resource; and madame la margrave his sister writes that she would end her life, if the king her brother ended his own.

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  Voltaire à M. le Comte d’Argental. Aux Délices, 12 septembre.

Les affaires de ce roi, mon ancien disciple et mon ancien persécuteur, vont de mal en pis. Je ne sais si je vous ai fait part de la lettre qu’il m’a écrite il y a environ trois semaines : J’ai appris, dit-il, que vous vous étiez intéressé à mes succès et à mes malheurs ; il ne me reste qu’à vendre cher ma vie, etc., etc. Sa sœur, la margrave de Baireuth, m’en écrit une beaucoup plus lamentable.

Allons, ferme, mon cœur, point de faiblesse humaine.

The affairs of this king, my old disciple and my old persecutor, have gone from bad to worse. I do not know if I had told you about a letter that he wrote me about three weeks ago: I learned, said him, that you were interested in my successes and my misfortunes; it only remains to sell my life dearly, etc., etc. His sister, the margrave of Bayreuth, writes me a much more lamentable one.

Go, harden up, my heart, nothing of human weaknesses.

[note: the last line is a quote from Molière’s Tartuffe, Act IV, Scene III. vendre cher sa vie means to kill a number of enemies before one’s own death.]

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 Voltaire à Madame la Margrave de Baireuth. Aux Délices, 29 août 1757.

Madame, j’ai été touché jusqu’aux larmes de la lettre dont Votre Altesse royale m’a honoré. [...] me sera-t-il permis de mettre sous votre protection cette lettre que j’ose écrire à Sa Majesté le roi votre frère ? [...] Je voudrais qu’il fût persuadé de son mérite personnel : il est au point que beaucoup de personnes de tout rang le respectent plus comme homme que comme roi. Qui doit sentir mieux que vous, madame, ce que c’est que d’être supérieure à sa naissance !

Madame, I was brought to tears by the letter Your Royal Highness honored me. [...] Will I be allowed to put this letter under your protection, which I dared write to His Majesty the king your brother? [...] I would like that he be persuaded of his personal merit: he is at a point where many people of all ranks respect him more as a man than as a king. Who would feel better than you, madame, what it is like to be superior to one's birth!

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 Frédéric à la margrave de Baireuth, Naumbourg, 9 (septembre 1757).

Ma chère sœur, viens de recevoir votre lettre du 6, avec l'incluse de Voltaire. [...] Je vous prie de vous tranquilliser l'esprit; vos inquiétudes me sont précieuses, certainement j'y suis sensible, et je vous regarde comme le seul exemple d'amitié parfaite dans ce siècle corrompu; mais, en s'inquiétant, on ne change pas le destin, et dans des circonstances où l'on doit s'attendre à tout, il faut se préparer à tout événement.

My dear sister, [I] just received your letter of the 6th, with Voltaire's enclosed. [...] I beg you to reassure your mind; your worries are dear to me, certainly I am sensible of them, and I regard you as the only example of perfect friendship in this corrupted century; but, one does not change destiny by worrying, and in the circumstances where one must expect everything, we must prepare ourselves for all events.

[last time Frederick wrote ‘this corrupted century’ to Wilhelmine was in 1730, from Cüstrin.]

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 La margrave de Baireuth à Frédéric, (15 septembre 1757) 

[note that the letter F wrote to V, which Wilhelmine speaks of, was a reply to V’s late august response, likely dated around September 9th, sent in the same package to Wilhelmine.]

Mon très-cher frère, votre lettre et celle que vous avez écrite à Voltaire, mon cher frère, m'ont presque donné la mort. Quelles funestes résolutions, grand Dieu! Ah! mon cher frère, vous dites que vous m'aimez, et vous me plongez le poignard dans le cœur. [...]. Votre sort décidera du mien; je ne survivrai ni à vos infortunes, ni à celles de ma maison. Vous pouvez compter que c'est ma ferme résolution.

My dearest brother, your letter and that which you wrote to Voltaire, my dear brother, have almost made me dead. What fatal resolutions, great God! Ah! my dear brother, you say that you love me, and you plunge a dagger into my heart. [...] Your fate will decide my own; I will survive neither your misfortunes, nor those of my house. You can count on this being my firm resolution.

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 Voltaire à Frédéric. Octobre 1757.

[...]; je vous ai appartenu, mon cœur vous appartiendra toujours.

[...]; I belonged to you, my heart will always belong to you.

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 Voltaire à Frédéric. Octobre 1757.

Vous voulez mourir ; je ne vous parle pas ici de l’horreur douloureuse que ce dessein m’inspire.[...] Écoutez contre ces sentiments votre raison supérieure ; elle vous dit que vous n’êtes point humilié, et que vous ne pouvez l’être ; elle vous dit qu’étant homme comme un autre, il vous restera (quelque chose qui arrive) tout ce qui peut rendre les autres hommes heureux : biens, dignités, amis.

[...] Je suis bientôt dans ma soixante et cinquième année, je suis né infirme ; je n’ai qu’un moment à vivre ; j’ai été bien malheureux, vous le savez ; mais je mourrais heureux, si je vous laissais sur la terre mettant en pratique ce que vous avez si souvent écrit.

You want to die; I do not speak to you here of the painful horror this plan inspires in me. [...] Listen to your superior reason against these sentiments; it [would] tell you that you are not at all humiliated, that you cannot be; it would tell you that being a man, like any other, there would remain for you (whatever happens) all those things which can make other men happy: possessions, dignities, friends. 

[...] soon I will be in my sixty-fifth year, I was born to be sick; I only have a moment [more] to live; I have been very unhappy, you know that; but I would die happy, if I left you on earth putting what you had so often written into practice.

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 Frédéric à la margrave de Baireuth, Buttelstedt, 8 octobre 1757

J'ai ri des exhortations du patriarche Voltaire; je prends la liberté de vous envoyer ma réponse. Quant au stoïcisme, je crois en avoir plus que lui, et quant à la façon de penser, il pense en poëte, et moi comme cela me convient dans le poste où le hasard de la naissance m'a placé.

I laughed at the exhortations of Voltaire the patriarch; I take the liberty to send you my response. As for stoicism, I believe myself to have more than he does, and as for the way of thinking, he thinks in poet, and I think as suited to the post which the accident of birth placed me in.

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 Frédéric à Voltaire, (Buttstedt) 9 octobre 1757.

Croyez que si j'étais Voltaire, Et particulier comme lui, Me contentant du nécessaire, Je verrais voltiger la fortune légère, Et m'en moquerais aujourd'hui. [...]

Believe me, if I was Voltaire, /and private person like him, /content with necessities, /I would see frivolous fortune flutter, /and make fun of it right at this moment.

[you send him an epistle, and say he thinks like a poet. fair enough]

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La Margrave de Baireuth à Voltaire. Le 16 Octobre.

Accablée par les maux de l’esprit et du corps, je ne puis vous écrire qu’une petite lettre. Vous en trouverez une ci-jointe qui vous récompensera au centuple de ma brièveté. Notre situation est toujours la même : un tombeau fait notre point de vue. Quoique tout semble perdu, il nous reste des choses qu’on ne pourra nous enlever : c’est la fermeté et les sentiments du cœur.

Overwhelmed by the ills of mind and body, I can only write you a little letter. You will find one enclosed [Frederick's letter from Oct 9th] which will reward you a hundred times more than my brevity. Our situation is always the same: a tomb makes our destination. Although all seems lost, there still remains for us things which cannot be taken away: firmness and sentiments of the heart.

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 [Frederick won the Battle of Rossbach on November 5]

Voltaire à M. le comte d'Argental. Au Délices, 19 novembre.

[...] Luc n’avait pas vingt-cinq mille hommes, encore étaient-ils harassés de marches et de contre-marches. Il se croyait perdu sans ressource, il y a un mois ; et si bien, si complètement perdu, qu’il me l’avait écrit ; et c’est dans ces circonstances qu’il détruit une armée de cinquante mille hommes. Quelle honte pour notre nation !

Luc had no more than twenty-five thousand men, also they were exhausted by marches and counter-marches. He believed himself to be lost without resources a month ago; and so wholly, so completely lost, as he wrote to me; and it's under these circumstances that he destroyed an army of fifty thousand men. What shame for our nation!

[Luc: cul: ass. i.e. Frederick.]

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 Voltaire à M. le comte d'Argental. 2 décembre.

Serait-il possible qu’on eût imaginé que je m’intéresse au roi de Prusse ? J’en suis pardieu bien loin. Il n’y a mortel au monde qui fasse plus de vœux pour le succès des mesures présentes. J’ai goûté la vengeance de consoler un roi qui m’avait maltraité ; il n’a tenu qu’à M. de Soubise que je le consolasse davantage.

Is it possible that people imagined I am interested in the king of Prussia? Good lord, I am very far from that. There is no mortal in the world who wishes more for success for the present situations [of France]. I tasted vengeance by consoling a king who had mistreated me; it only depends on M. de Soubise that I console him more.

[if we make him cry more i get to hug him more. O sweet vengeance!]

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[Frederick won the Battle of Leuthen on December 5]

Voltaire à M. le comte d'Argental. Lausanne, 20 décembre, au soir.

Quand les Prussiens tuent tant de monde, il faut bien aussi que je vous assassine de lettres, mon cher ange. Il est difficile que vous ayez su plus tôt que nous autres Suisses la nouvelle victoire du roi de Prusse, près de Neumarck en Silésie. Ce diable de Salomon est un terrible Philistin. La renommée le dit déjà dans Breslau ; mais il ne faut pas croire toujours la renommée.

When the Prussians are killing so many people, I must also assassinate you with letters, my dear angel. It is difficult for you to know sooner than us Swiss, about the new victory of the king of Prussia, near Neumarck in Silesia. This devil of a Solomon is a terrible Philistine. Legend says he is already in Breslau; but legend must not always be believed.

[in the 18th century philistine is perhaps used to say someone is merciless & bloodthirsty.]

----------------------------------------

I had chosen not to include a sub-plot in which Voltaire tried to connect Marechal de Richelieu with Frederick to negotiate peace between France and Prussia - which was fruitless.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Ezekiel ‘EZ’ Reyes x Obispo ‘Bishop’ Losa daughter! Reader

Anon #1 asked: Hi 💕 obsessed with your writing! I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is Bishops daughter so she’s jokingly referred to as a “forbidden fruit” cause she’s hot but none of the mc can have her because of who her dad is. But she starts to fall for either Angel or EZ? (Either one you pick 🤘🏼) thank you 💕💕

@ly--canthrope asked: I lied! I have a 3rd one for Ez haha. Not much of a prompt, but can you build a scene around this please? -- breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths- thank you so much!

Word Count: 1.5k

Author comments: This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @xxrouxx

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan @lady-pswrld @minnicelli @marquelapage @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @jadesamhart ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“Yeah, you hit him hard, man”. Coco cheers EZ, once he's out of the ring and the Stockton members are picking up what is left of their prospect.

“Good job, lil'bro. You fucked up that bitch”.

“So, what's your prize, ah? Choose”. Gilly says offering him a beer.

“I'm gonna ask (Y/N) to take care of me”.

“No, no, no, no”. Coco replies, placing himself in front of him to stop his feet.

“The hell you sayin', brother? That bitch left your brain out of you, or what?” Angel narrows his eyes, shaking lightly his head.

“She's the forbidden fruit, carnal. Don' get into more troubles”. The mexican with long hair speaks.

“Prez looks happy teasing Oscar because I won”.

“Prez looks happy 'cause it's his daughter's birthday. ‘Best day of his life’, as he always says”. Gilly surrounds his neck with an arm, while continuing walking to the bar on the crowded yard.

“I will do it anyway”. Having a long sip of his beer, EZ gives it to his brother, taking the advantage to look for you.

You're sitting close to your father, clinged to one of his arms, having fun with your tíos and your family from other charters. It's your 21th birthday and Bishop decides to have a party with all the Mayans. So, the whole Santo Padre knows you're celebrating. It's the first time you see them all reunited, being the center of attention even if you don't like it. Every five minutes, a member walks closer to greet you, as if you were some kind of princess. Yes, your father is El Rey de los Mayas, but you're not sure what position it gives you.

Your eyes travel to the crowd, observing the younger Reyes coming with self-confidence and security towards your position. Sitting up on your chair, you smirk at him trying to not show how nervous you are. Should be illegal see this fucking good after a fight. You like him. You like him at the point you dream with him. But it's a shit that he hides what he feels because of Bishop. Just like you do. He's the most interesting man you have never known. Sometimes you try to figure out why the hell he joined Mayans, but then you see him riding his bike and your head goes blank.

“Congratulations, Ezekiel”. Your father compliments him with a huge smile on the corner of his lips.

“Thanks, presidente. I was… asking myself if (Y/N) could help me to fix me up. Angel sa—”.

“No”. “Yes”.

Bishop and Marcus talk in unison. The men look at each other, frowning a little. You're in the middle of them, raising your hands to both chests.

“Club business, caballeros”. Making fun of them, you get up from your chair holding EZ's hand.

You let him lead you to the inside of the clubhouse, looking for the medical kit to heal his face. Letting go his fingers tangled in yours, you cross the main hallway to the bathroom to take all the stuff you can need. Carrying it among your hands, you come back to the younger Reyes with that smile that makes your legs shake since you met him a year ago.

You ring the bell, holding with a hand the glass tray full of tamales, your best friend's favorite mexican dish. Coco opens the door with a cigar between his long fingers and a serious look on his face.

“We don' wan' publicity, thanks”. He says before trying to close the door on your nose.

“Don' you have a moment to talk about our lord Itzamná?” You joke on him, hitting the wood with a shoulder to come in.

“Ah, bueno, si es un Maya… pues sí, digo, no más, pasa, pasa”. (Well, if it's a Mayan… of course, come in, come in). He replies gesticulating exaggeratedly, starting to laugh.

“What's up, Coquito?”

The mexican takes the food from your hands, leaning to leave a loud kiss on your check.

“Hey, lil'mama”. The oldest Reyes surrounds your neck with both arms from behind you, kissing the top of your head. “Come're, I wanna introduce you to my brother”.

“The famous Ezekiel”.

“Oh, stop”. He clicks his tongue somewhat jealous, leading you to the kitchen. “Hey, EZ. That's (Y/N), Prez's daughter. So, don' try anything sexual with that smile yours”.

“Angel!” You break in laughs, before focusing on his brother.

“What's up? I'm Ezekiel, but everybody calls me EZ”. The younger Reyes leans forward surrounding your waist with an arm, pushing you closer to kiss your cheek.

You already know that you're fucked and in love.

“Don' lie, brother. We all call you ‘boy scout’!” Coco's words make you both laugh.

“You like adventures?” You ask trying to not sound as if you're flirting. But you are.

“And you?”

“Of course”.

“Yeah, well… What can I say then? I can make fire with everything, that's a good point if you wanna go hiking”.

“I'll keep it in mind, boy scout”.

EZ sits on the poker table, settling yourself between his legs to make it easier to clean the blood on his face with a wet soft towel. He doesn't set apart his eyes from you, on how focused you are on taking care of him. As if he was the most delicate thing in your life. And you're trying to not fall more for him, in case that it's possible. He doesn't need stitches, being enough using some iodine to cover the wounds. Looks like you're an artist in front of her masterpiece, watching him breathe somewhat nervous too close of you.

“I asked for a birthday wish that you don' kiss me tonight”. You mumble, getting lost in his eyes with both hands resting on his lap.

You're not going to blame the alcohol you have been drinking, but you're not in your best moment.

“Saying it will not be fulfilled”.

You can feel his long fingers, a little damaged, touring your hips until they flow on your lower back making you take a last step forward.

“Analyze the phrase, smart boy”.

Narrowing his eyes, and having some seconds, EZ begins to draw a sly smile shaking his head for an instant. Now, he has understood it.

“You wan' me to kiss you?”

“Technically, I don' want you to no kiss me”. You point out, emphasizing each word, containing a loud laugh. “That's what I said. More or less”.

“Tonight”.

“Yeah', tonight”.

“What about tomorrow?” He mutters, raising up a hand to the right side of your neck, caressing the line of your jaw with a thumb.

“I don't know, EZ… I think my last brain cell collapsed”. Pursing your lips, you're almost touching his.

He laughs between his teeth, before kissing you. Your heart has collapsed too, when the adventurous hand goes up to the back of your head, while your mouths fit like two pieces of a puzzle. In perfect harmony. No rush. No nerves. Nothing. You're calmed, enjoying the taste of beer on his tongue, and the taste of tequila on yours. His lips aren't soft, but you're in love with them, with him, right as he is. Al carajo with that your father said. If he is playing his skin for you, you're going to do the same.

Your fingers roam his bare chest, noticing that he's breathing somewhat better, pressing his hand on your back to push you a little closer. Up to his neck, your fingers wrap it softly while he bites your lower lip so sensual that, if he wasn't holding you, you could fall down.

“Your father is watching us”. He whispers onto your mouth, caressing your nose with his.

Your cheeks are burning when you turn between EZ's legs to the main door. Bishop is resting against the frame having a drag of his cigar and carrying a closed bottle of tequila. You know what it means. You made him the promise that you would get drunk together, now that you can ‘legally’ drink.

“I have… to leave. Put some ice on your knuckles, okay?” You say to the younger Reyes, and he simply nods.

El presidente is killing him with his look, offering you a hand to hold it and take you away from the prospect. Going downstairs, he puts his eyes on you with an incredulous gesture.

“It could be worse, dad”.

“Oh, really? Surprise me, mi amor”.

“Could be Angel, instead of EZ”.

“Why the fuck you have an answer for everything, ah?”

“C'mon, dad! It's my birthday”.

“Yeah, the anniversary of the best day of my life. But we're going to talk about it tomorrow”.

[thehammondlegacy]

Willow Palace - King Henry’s office

Henry: No, the Crown Princess is spending New Year’s Eve in Oasis Springs. My son can take over that engagement. Hold on a minute, please. Yes, Luke!

Luke: The Princess Royal and Princess Alecsia are here to see you, Your Majesty.

Henry: Now? Is it urgent?

Luke: It seems so, Sir.

Henry: Alright, I’ll be there in a minute. *goes back to his phone call* I’ll have to call you later, Amada. Something came up.

Willow Palace - Family room

Alecsia: What’s taking him so long?!

Ophelia: He’s the King, Lecsie! We have to wait for him.

Alecsia: We are his sisters! He always has time for his children, but never for us!

Ophelia: Oh, grow up!! You are an adult now! Besides, what else do you have to do today?

Alecsia: Many things, sister!

Henry: I’m sorry to keep you waiting. It’s a busy day. How are you?

Ophelia: Good, how are you? 

Alecsia: You look tired!

Henry: It’s nice to see you too Lecsie! I have to say I’m surprised to see you both of you here together. It’s been a while since your last visit.

Alecsia: Ask Phelie! She was the one who wanted to speak with you and I.

Henry: Ok, tell us what you need, Phelie.

Ophelia: Alright. This is not going to be easy...

Alecsia: Nothing in our life is easy, dear.

Henry: Let her speak!

Ophelia: I wish to stop being an active member of the royal family.

Henry: What? Why? You are still very young!

Ophelia: This is the hard part. I’m sick.

Alecsia: Oh, no!

Ophelia: The doctors found a malignant tumor in my stomach. It’s cancer.

Henry: Jesus! Phelie, I’m so sorry!

Alecsia: Is it curable?

Ophelia: They need to remove it first and then I’ll have to go through quemo.

Henry: So, it is curable?

Ophelia: It is treatable, but we are not sure if it’s a hundred percent curable.

Alecsia: Oh, Phelie! We’ll fight this together!

Henry: Yes, of course! We’ll help you through it, and you can take as much time off as you need, but I think it’s better if you don’t retire quiet yet. I think it’s good to have something waiting for you after the treatment is over.

Ophelia: Harry, I wish I could come back, but I’m very tired! If I make it, I want to spend time with my children and with Mattew. This life is no longer for me.

Henry: Well, you are not the one doing this for life, so whatever you choose I won’t stop you. 

Ophelia: Thank you, Harry. There’s one more thing I need to ask both of you.

Alecsia: Name it!

Ophelia: If the worst were to happen, I need you to take care of my family. Anne is lost. She has no ambitions and she’ll need someone to guide her. Mattew is an amazing father, but he doesn’t understand what it means to be born in this family. Anne will need you by her side. I know George will be fine, but he’ll need-

Henry: Stop! You shouldn’t be doing this, Phelie. You are not dying now! We are going through this treatment together, and if it doesn’t work, then we’ll have this discussion. Besides, you know we won’t leave your family alone.

Alecsia: Yes, they are our family too, you know!

Ophelia: I know, but I can’t help it! I’m more worried about them being alone than about me dying soon!

Henry: You are not dying! I’m the eldest! I have to go first, and that’s it! So, we are going to stop talking about this, and focus our attention of making you better, is that clear?

Ophelia: Yes, but you don’t have to go through this with me. Mattew will be by my side.

Alecsia: Yeah, right! Like we are leaving you alone with Mattew! We are doing this together! That’s what Papa taught us to do! 

Henry: He would kill us if we left you alone. And we love you! You are our sister, and we’ll always be by your side!

Ophelia: Thank you... To both of you!

Henry: You’ll be fine! We’ll take care of you.

Alecsia: Of course we will! “Mattew will be by my side” Ha! I can hear Mama saing how silly you sound!

Ophelia: I love you, Lecsie!

Alecsia: I love you too, sis.

Henry: Aww, look at you two! You are so nice when you are not fighting!

Alecsia: Don’t ruin this, Harry!

[for-my-own-om-ent]

om boys with a foreign mc who switches to first language when feeling strong emotions

LUCIFER

• he had always been mean to Mammon ever since mc came here

• he'd been very stressed that day so he's scolding him since morning

• poor Mammon couldn't step foot out of his room without getting on the eldest's nerves

• mc had always been an advocate for leaving the white haired boy live peacefully, but Lucifer just went too far that day

• 'Lulu, dar mai lasa omul in plata Domnului! Toata ziua ii stai in cap ca o palarie!' ('Lulu, leave the guy alone for God's sake! You're on top of his head like a hat!')

• being demons, they both understood since it wasn't that hard to comprehend a language they've been alive to see develop

• Mammon nearly cried from laughter which only made Lucifer more annoyed

• the eldest will definitely mock MC on their dialect and accent

• seems unbothered but boiling inside

MAMMON

• MC had been helping him with his history essay while he'd do their maths homework

• 'thanks for helping, Mammon' they said before writing the finishing sentence

• 'money would've been a better thanks but yer welcome, MC'

• he'd finished the homework long before MC but knew better than to annoy the person who'd help him pass

• but now that they finished he might as well start being annoying

• 'next time ya might as well go bother someone else with your idiocy. i'm a busy guy ya know'

• 'of.. eu ce sa fac daca mi esti drag?' ('oh~ but what could i possibly do if i hold you so dear?')

• MC knew he'd get flustered and after calling them an idiot what could've been better than mocking him

LEVIATHAN

• they were playing a game with some of Levi's online friends

• MC, already annoyed with the fact that they weren't alone with Levi, was also pretty pissed at the skills of some of them

• Levi could sense MC s envy, him being the literal Avatar of Envy, but not understanding where it came from didn't act on it

• the more they played the more tense and annoyed MC grew and Levi didn't mind it

• he kind of fed from their jealousy

• but at one point one of the people playing just made the most idiotic move so MC just couldn't contain it

• 'Frate, ce are in capu ala? Tarata?' ('what do they have in that head of theirs? oats?')

• Levi, for the first time in forever, got distracted from the game

• he was endlessly embarrassed that MC did that but the choice of their words was way too much for him to handle

• he started laughing while his face was lobster red from the embarrassment

SATAN

• he was very aware of MC's Romanian heritage given the fact that they've exchanged books in the language

• even so he's never heard them speak it

• he thought it was because MC was embarrassed of their dialect or accent

• he never insisted since he didn't want to make them uncomfortable

• one day before a test at RAD everybody was stressed beyond belief and MC was no exception

• as Satan was walking towards them to comfort them he heard them talking to themselves

• 'daca ai putut sa suporti presiunea cand i-ai explicat lui Lulu cu ce i -ati patat canapeaua, asta-i nimic' ('if you could stand the embarrassment when you had to explain to Lulu what was it you stained his couch with, this will be nothing')

• Satan was pretty amused

• loved their accent and wanted to hear more and louder

• he approached them in Romanian in hopes that they won't notice his intentions

• 'cu ce ati patat-o?' ('what did you stain it with?')

• 'of nu pot sa traiesc rusinea din nou' ('i can't re-live the shame') they sighted

• 'intreaba-l pe Belphie' ('go ask Belphie')

ASMODEUS

• MC had been calling Asmo by his nickname since forever

• no one ever questioned their ability to pronounce it fully and Asmo loved the way his nickname sounded when it rolled out of MC's mouth so they never had to

• one day MC called Asmo from the kitchen to ask about one of his refrigerated skincare thingys

• 'honey, how come you call me just like the Romans used to?'

• he was most amused by that

• MC was flustered at his remark

• they hated how 'Asmodeus' sounded in English accent and refused to say it like that but it would've been no use to discuss it with him

• 'well the Romans are my ancestors'

• 'still, i can't help but wonder if it's really that you can't pronounce it' Asmo teased as if he wasn't aware

• 'uhm yes i can' MC was already a bit annoyed

• 'i dunno i mean if i were able to say it right i would' Asmo continued excited for MC's reaction

• 'Iisuse, Asmo! Daca vrei sa-ti stalcesc numele si sa iasa ca si cand l-am mestecat inainte sa-l spun te pot anunta de pe acum ca nu o voi face!' ('Jesus, Asmo! If you want me to ruin your name and for it to sound as if i chewed it before saying it i can already announce you that i will not do so!') MC said and didn't really realise they switched languages

• 'oh my, dear' Asmo jumped in surprise but continued 'the way you talk so freely and harshly.. you should really speak to me like this more often~'

BEELZEBUB

• MC wasn't feeling so well

• it was nothing serious but the guys still exagerated beyond belief and took shifts to take care of them

• it was Beel's turn to feed them and keep them warm, happy and entertained

• MC had given up on trying to explain they just had the mildest headache and agreed to themselves they shut up from then on if they'd ever have an issue again

• Beel decided that food was the best remedy and brought a lot of snacks for him and MC

• he was trying immensely hard to not eat anything he brought which concerned MC

• they started eating to try to make Beel eat too

• it was starting to feel kind of eerie

• 'hey Beel, aren't you gonna eat?'

• '... oh.. no, you should eat..'

• MC understood he was scared for their life but it wasn't even as much as a cold that's no need for starvation

• MC hesitantly brought one of the chocolate bars to Beel s mouth and softly asked him to eat

• '...Beel, te rog mananca cu mine. Am sa ma simt mai bine.' ('Beel, please eat with me. I'll feel much better.')

• realising he's scared MC he let himself eat as much as he wanted

• didn't even notice the change of language but felt a bit warmer and closer to them

BELPHEGOR

• MC and Belphie had been napping for a while when Beel woke them up for a snack

• MC is a sucker for snacks so they were quick to try to get Belphie up

• Belphie really wasn't having it

• while MC was trying to get him up he only did as much as groan

• 'Belphegor, naiba ma ia daca am sa pierd ocazia de a manca din cauza ta' ('Belphegor, on hell i won't miss snack time because of you')

• he was a bit shocked but too sleepy to show it

• only then he realised one of his favourite things about humans (languages) was so close to him

[not-a-red-rose]

Bit of a long read.

Warning: Topics are somehow sensitive, but please read, for this is also a way of education (or maybe you’ll just find out I’m a bad person, that depends lol.) But if you’ve got time, if you can make time, please read this. I accept constructive criticisms, some arguments that do not involve ad hominem, and additions if ever you are willing to say there is.

So, it's been approximately 5 years since I strayed away from being masungit and maldita (mean and snobby), because my Mom and Dad got a lot of trouble because of it (I did get a lot of trouble, too, only I didn't mind, because I really didn't care) and now I love being compassionate and kind

I really do, because I can't also stand an environment where most of the people are mean-spirited and always angry. I wanted to build a soft and light environment, so I tried to be soft and light, too.

Because change starts within, don’t you think?

So I did, and I became very good at it.

It feels great to see and watch people grow comfortable with their own skin around you because you don't judge them. It feels great to see and watch people love themselves more because they can see that you love them for who they are. It feels great to make people feel great and give them the love they deserve, because we are all human, and we don't deserve to always be shut down by people who suffer inside of themselves. So we create bonds, we love people for who they are, we eat with them, we cry with them, we laugh with them, we pat their backs when they are defeated and helpless, we shout “I’m proud of you!” to their faces when we feel proud of them, and we begin being kind.

But now that I have been terribly woken up by realizations, shaped by my experiences, and taught with other's advices, I am also beginning to see the predators in our forest.

I will sometimes think that maybe we aren't always aware that we are being predators, sometimes we are as clueless as the preys and we don't know any better. Sometimes we can be the toxic ones, too, so there is no point in stopping our self-development and realizations. Everyone starts as clueless and inexperienced— oftentimes, a monster isn’t a monster because he is evil, it is because he refuses to change so, even when he knows he is.

Bad people only become truly bad when they don’t care about being better.

I am not perfect, I am not all-knowing, I became a predator, too, for far too many times than I can count, and I am still trying and learning how not to be. But here are some of the things I realized:

• The awful mindset of our society is that if someone's kind, they are supposed to tolerate everything you do. (even and especially gaslighting, guilt-tripping, backstabbing then denying it later, always saying "yes," and being soft even when hurt and angry.)

No. People who are kind do not deserve such abuse and manipulation (we don’t deserve abuse and manipulations,) so please, quit saying, “mabait naman ‘yan si ano e, okay lang ‘yan sa kan’ya!” (Don’t stress about it too much, she’s kind, so that’ll be okay for her!)

And what, you’re going to victim-blame again? You’ll say, “you’re too kind, you’re teaching people to step all over you.” Dude, I’m not teaching them anything like that, really, they are teaching that to themselves because they want to abuse and take advantage of the kindness. If there is no kindness because kind people took your advice to not be kind so people won’t step all over them, then what would become of our world? Common sense, sweetheart.

• Normalize saying no. If you mean no, say no. If you mean maybe, say maybe. If you mean I’ll try, say I’ll try. If you mean yes, say yes. Normalize saying and receiving no, not everyone has to agree and do what you suggest them to do.

Normalize saying no, if no is what you want to say. I don't care if they hail you as a saint and they label you as someone who tolerates everything. Say no if you mean no. Say it firmly. Don't waver. Your voice may shake but say no if what you mean is no.

(“Normalize saying no” doesn't just tackle suitors and people who want to be your lover. This also tackles people you don't want to spend time with, things you don't want to do, places you don't want to go to, words you don't want to say, and etc.)

say no. say it loudly. say it firmly.

• Unfortunately, we are not educated about gaslighting and guilt-tripping, or any psychological/mental manipulations, enough to defend our own selves from manipulators, narcissists, and terrible behaviors of people.

We should be educated.

Please read verified and credible articles about it, listen to classes when it’s the topic, research about it, observe it. You may be doing it, too, so please learn about it.

• We should stay away from "friends" who hurt, invalidate, manipulate, abuse, and force you to do things you do not want to do. I don't care if it makes you alone-- alone is better than being with people who will just use and hurt you.

• Do not try to repaint red flags. Red flags are red flags, unless you are color blind, although please do not be figuratively color blind. If you cannot settle it through peaceful conversations and negotiations, it’s time to cut ties. CUT TIES. No one is important enough, for you to stay with them even when they exhaust and drain the hell outta you. Let them go. If they don’t wanna walk away, then you do the walking away. Don’t stay there. Life is too short to deal with people who take and take and take and take your peace and who obliges you to fix them.

• I do not have any idea how to say this properly— but you cannot expect your romantic partner/ lover to take the heavy weight of your mental messes and emotional baggage just because you cannot deal with it yourself. Stop dropping all the weight to someone and expecting them to fix you because you are broken.

I am not invalidating the love lives of lovers who stay through each other’s destructive jealousies and insecurities— I am only saying that we don’t have to. We aren’t obligated to fix an individual just because we love them. That’s what’s cruel there, when we find someone we can and will love and we would like them to be in our future, but they come across as toxic and draining and destructive, and they don’t want to adjust to be a better person, we gotta let go of them.

It is always your choice if you’re going to stay with them— if you can and you want to, then stay. If you can’t and you don’t want to, then don’t.

This may sound harsh and (even) evil, but normalize leaving people when you cannot deal with them any longer. Normalize leaving people. Normalize people leaving you. Those who can and who want to stay will stay, will always find reasons to come back, and will always stay. Remember that.

• Normalize rebuking and criticizing the ideas of the people who make rape, poverty, mental illness, and anything-that-shouldn’t-be-joked-about jokes. Normalize criticizing, standing up to it whether it came from your parents, a very dear friend, or a romantic partner. Sensitivity shall not be filtered. Respect shall not be filtered. Note that I said “ideas of the people” not “the people” because we should not hate people so easily, maybe they just need a little education, a little more push to leave that mindset and perspective.

Well, if they have been presented with enough and sufficient facts of why they shouldn’t think like that and shouldn’t joke about that, but they still haven’t changed their mind, let us go back to what I said earlier.

Bad people only become truly bad when they don’t care about being better. :>

• Say what you mean and mean what you say (this one is the hardest so far because man, we are reckless with words.) Like what I said earlier— about the saying no. If you say yes, darling, I do hope you mean yes. If you make a promise, do your best to meet it! Treat your words like they represent your dignity, because oftentimes, they do. You believe it or not, words are powerful. It can heal and mend, but it can also tarnish and destroy.

“The words you speak become the house you live in.” ― Hafiz

• We all need healing. We all have wounds we need to heal from. I do not know jack about your problems and you might not know about mine, but we cannot deny that we need healing. Because if we deny, and we think that we’re a-ok even when we are not, the wounds will remain wounds and we will bleed on people who did not cause it. We will punish others because we are experiencing anguish inside of us. Do not let that be you. Be soft on yourself enough to acknowledge that you are hurt and in need of healing— that way, you are soft and tender with others, too.

• What you feel isn’t always what I feel, and what I feel isn’t always what you feel. We have different capacities, different perspectives, different emotional wavelengths. What’s trouble for me can not be trouble for you, and vice versa. However, that does not give us any power to disregard what others feel. We need a lot of understanding in this life, and acceptance towards the diversity of every aspect in our lives. Respect is needed, always respect. Respect should be the default (that being a default, it can also be lost).

(But this^^ doesn’t always apply to all things such as being homophobic and racist, because that perspective and mindset drives one to disrespect existence, and even act out violently, set prejudices and be downright inhumane. That is not what I am talking about.)

This is not all, but if I type all I might accidentally write a book about it, so this stops, for now. Note that your understanding of the words I’ve said depends on how well you interpret it, whether you have prejudices or you do not, whether you will use it for good purposes or for bad.