#like they rarely invade it but it's still something of an issue

[angels444yuri]

cannot put into words how badly i want to move out. love my parents but i don't know how much longer i can go without complete control of my time,,,

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

What do you mean Nikolai Lantsov was a morally grey character? He was a selfless hero!

Literally Nikolai Lantsov:

Befriended and convinced already disoriented and ignorant Alina that the Darkling was a bigger issue than the First Army and the people turning on Grisha and executing them, a brewing civil war that would most likely happen even if they killed the Darkling, Fjerda and Shu-Han casually invading their territory, etc. That they should abandon negotiations with the Darkling and prepare for war even though the country can't take it. Also, his reasoning that he should become the King? Nikolai: Oh yeah, I'm a bastard with no claim to the throne who has never actually done anything to change Ravka for the better, I was too busy playing pirates. And I just gave the rapist King who doomed this country a nice retirement and more servants to rape, while your friend Genya who he raped gets a trial for attempted regicide, be grateful she will be spared.

"Fouche did not miss the boat: Befriending the revolutionary leader Robespierre, he quickly rose in the rebel ranks. When Fouche arrived in Paris to take his seat at the convention, a violent rift had broken out between die moderates and the radical Jacobins. Fouche sensed that in the long run neither side would emerge victorious."

While Alina and Darkling were watching each other, Nikolai was watching the throne. Darkling got rid of the King and the only legitimate heir for him, so all Nikolai had to do is march into a disbanded army and declare himself a war hero and the King. Nikolai: Maybe we should just abolish absolute monarchy in Ravka because it's 20th century already, some of the countries no longer have it and no one even wants it anymore? Don't be ridiculous. My mother was an oyster and I'm the pearl or something.

"Power rarely ends up in the hands of those who start a revolution, or even of those who further it; power sticks to those who bring it to a conclusion. That was the side Fouche wanted to be on.

At a certain moment, however, he called a halt to the killings, sensing the mood of the country was turning, and despite the blood already on his hands, citizens of Lyons hailed him as a savior from what had become known as the Terror."

Nikolai to the remaining Grisha after the civil war: Right, so I know I used my big guns to slaughter you, the oppressed minority, because you sided with a man who gave you shelter, saved you and was your respected general instead of a girl who was prejudiced against you, never trained, and abandoned you, BUT I need an army. So, here's your pardon and you can once again become serfs to the monarchy who failed you for centuries. Also, the drafting age has been lowered for Grisha and now we're sending unprepared children to missions. Freedom for Grisha? Letting them buy land? Don't be ridiculous. Can't you see I have more important problems to deal with? The Darkling still exists trapped somewhere in the form of a ghost!

If only the author would acknowledge in KoS duology that he has flaws and selfish ambitions. Let him be a complicated character with layers, it's not the end of the world.

[critical-twenty]

I'm kinda new to the cr fandom so i only know c1 stuff... could you write something with the prompt "is it okay to hug you?" from the part 2 list! Maybe something with the party having a s/o who struggles with touch and being vulnerable who has been having a very stressful day? Cries easily when they are frustrated or upset? 😢 If thats too much maybe just something with Vax or Percy cause i love them the most. 💖

sorry this is so late! it’s been sitting in my notes for ages, i’ve just been too busy to post it!

S/O who struggles with touch has a stressful day!

Vax

Vax never really has an issue with the lack of touch in your relationship

Sure, he likes to hold your hand, but it’s not the end of the world if you don’t want to

He’s able to fluster you with just his words anyway

But when you come home one day with tears in your eyes and tension in your back, Vax is unsure of what to do

His first instinct is to reach out to you. It’s what he does for Vex and the others, so why wouldn’t he?

He stops himself when he remembers how much you dislike being touched without express permission

Even when you start crying, Vax doesn’t want to make things worse, so he just stares at you as he tries to ask what’s wrong

You look up at him through tearful eyes and ask ‘Can I hug you?’

Vax is immediately scooping you into his arms, letting his warmth invade your senses and comfort you

He tentatively begins to rub a hand up and down your back, continuing when you don’t tell him to stop

He’s relieved, in all honesty. He’s relieved he can help you and he’s honored that you let him hug you in such a moment of need

When you finally calm down enough to talk, he draws away to give you some space

His fingers stay connected with yours though, as you won’t let him go

He smiles at this, before pressing a kiss to your head

‘I’m sorry you had such a hard day, sweetheart. I’ll be here as long as you need me to be’

And he is 🖤

Grog

It took Grog a while to understand your reluctance in touch

It wasn’t that he thought it was weird, he just couldn’t read the signals as to how uncomfortable you were with his physical affection and you didn’t want to say anything

Finally, though, you told him about how you weren’t the biggest fan of touching

He nods, but it doesn’t fully register

Still he tries his best to remember, but he forget sometimes

He apologizes when he forgets and you can’t really get mad at him when he’s so genuine

When you come back home from a really rough day, Grog can instantly tell that something is up

He’s not the smartest, but when it comes to your happiness, he’s learned to become more attentive

He also knows that you don’t always want to be touched when you’re like this

(Pike had reminded him enough that it stuck with him)

So he watches you until he really can’t stand the sight of it anymore

‘Can I hug you?’

You look up at him with tears ready to fall and nod

Grog gives the best comforting hugs. He’s gentle but firm and he won’t let go until you ask him to

He’s not perfect, but he’s trying

Percy

Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III was never a man who thrived in touch

He rarely initiated physical contact with you and whenever he did, he asked for your permission first

It was like he already knew about your dislike for touch without you even telling him

(He definitely did. He’s observant enough to see your subtle emotions and tells)

You were perfectly content with a dynamic mostly built on quality time and acts of service, rather than physical affection

This wasn’t always the case though

You had had a particularly hard day at work. There was so much to do and you felt like not enough time to do it all

So, when you walked into Percy’s Tinker Room, he instantly noticed your tense demeanor

He is the king of stress himself, he knows the signs

However he doesn’t know what to do. He knows that he likes to be alone when stressed, but by seeking him out you seem to want to be around him

He contemplates in his head for a moment as you tell him about your day, waiting for you to finish before he stands up and comes over to you

‘May I hug you, darling?’

You immediately look at him, before barreling into his arms

He’s quick to wrap them around you, pressing a light kiss to the crown of your head as he tries to ground you

He’ll hold you as long as you want. He’ll even offer cuddles

Needless to say, he’s done working for the day. You need him and that’s 10x more important than anything else

Scanlan

It took Scanlan awhile to adapt to your feelings on touch

He’s a naturally extroverted person and he’s usually the first to initiate physical contact with anyone, so it’s an adjustment for him

However, once he finds out that it’s even more fun to fluster you with his shitty pick-up lines and love songs, the physical touch thing becomes easier

He slips up every once in a while, but he tries to make it up to you (he is a secret romantic underneath that… sexual persona)

You go find him, sitting with his lute, after an awful day

You were tired, and stressed, and part of you just wanted to go to sleep and wake up when this project you were working on was over

Scanlan knew the minute you walked over to him that something was up

Not wanting to be obvious in his effort to comfort you, and not wanting to touch you when you were clearly already tense, he decided to do what he does best: talk

He began to make small talk, talking about his songs and his day and whatever was going on with his friends

He thought it was working, until you said his name and looked up at him with tired eyes

‘Can I have a hug?’

He was stunned for a moment, obviously not expecting it, but he got over it quickly

He lightly wrapped himself around you, holding you close and just letting it be

It was rare that Scanlan was so silent but, for once, the only sound was breathing

It was a small moment, but it was more than enough for you

Keyleth

Keyleth was awkward at first

Not because she had a hard time without physical affection, but more because she didn’t know what to do in general

Romance was still foreign to her

Still, she read your body language with perfection

You didn’t even need to tell her that you didn’t like physical touch… she just knew

You were thankful for that

It had been a stressful day and you were really just looking forward to hanging out with Keyleth

Sitting in the forest and listening to her talk to the plants always calmed you down

But even as you sat there, the stress didn’t go away

Keyleth noticed immediately, of course

She’s not great at words but she is more than adept at movement

‘…Is it okay if I hug you?’

You looked up with wide eyes and Keyleth immediately backtracks

‘We don’t have to, of course! You just seemed a bit tense and I thought maybe a hug might help be we don’t have to do that if you don’t-‘

She’s cut off by your arms gently wrapping around her waist

She freezes for a moment, before embracing you

It’s warm and comforting and Keyleth suddenly understands why people like doing this so much

She’ll hold you as long as you need. After all, she’s enjoying herself just as much as you are

Vex

Vex’ahlia is the queen of subtle touches

She loved resting a hand on the shoulders of her friends, or bumping into them playfully as they walked

It took a bit of self-control to not do those things with you

It wasn’t hard, per say. It just required a bit more focus and awareness of her movements

But, Vex would do anything for you, so she learned (quickly, as expected)

It was after a fight, while everyone was setting up camp, that Vex noticed the look on your face

It was the same look she saw when you were stuck on a particular puzzle, or when everything seemed to be piling on your shoulders

‘My dear, are you alright?’

You shrug half heartedly

‘Would you like to accompany Trinket and I on a walk? I think it will be quite relaxing and the moon is especially gorgeous tonight.’

Vex waits for your reply when finally you look up

‘Vex, will you hold me?’

Vex doesn’t even falter

Sure, she’s surprised, but the urge to comfort you overrides everything else

She hold you as close as she can without it being uncomfortable, rubbing circles on your back and whispering sweet encouragements into your ear

When you part, she tells you to take your time joining the rest of the party, before turning around and giving hushed threats to anyone who dares make a comment

You hear them, but it’s endearing. It shows that she care.

Pike

Pike is a very affectionate person

Not in the same flirty way as Vax or Scanlan, nor in the subtle way as Vex

Pike was just a very loving woman. Physical affection (including hugs) were just commonplace to her

Which is why she was a little stunned when you told her that you weren’t too fond of physical touch

It was hard for her, at first, because she had to find new ways to express all the love that she had for you, but your comfort came before everything

She always asked before initiating anything and you were always so thankful for that

One day, you came back to find Pike kneeling in the garden, mumbling under her breath

You assumed she was praying (for what, you weren’t sure) but you really needed her

Today had been hell and Pike had always known how to make you feel better

Sitting behind her, you gently rested your head on her shoulder

She tensed, knowing it was you, but confused by the display of touch

Still, she didn’t saying anything

‘Pike…’

She knew with that one call of her name what you needed

‘Do you want me to hug you?’

A small nod was all it took for Pike to spin around and gather you in her arms

Her hugs were like sunshine embodied

You felt all your stress and tension slip away as she held you close

Maybe she was a God herself, with the way she made you feel so safe in her embrace

[differenteagletragedy]

I am afraid worms have invaded my brain and they are eating away at everything that is not OUR LIFE SWAP AU

This is an AU in which Baxter is your best friend that moved in town when you were 8, Cove is the boy from the city you met when you were 13, and Derek is the boy who comes into town for the summer when you're 18. This one is a reworking of the original "Mountains" scene.

OG Swap here -- another part here -- another here -- one more here

In the ten years you'd been friends, you and Baxter had rarely gotten into any arguments. You both just got along so well, and he was agreeable to a fault, always so against being confrontational or divisive. And so for all this time, with maybe just a small handful of hiccups, you'd just gone on easily, having a grand time together.

But that night, as he sat on your bed watching you pack your things to go on a camping trip with Derek, he seemed perfectly willing to fight.

Derek had rented the empty condo across the street from you for the summer. He was a year older than you, a college athlete, and he was doing some private training with a coach in the city. That weekend, he had a few days off and he'd wanted to go camping in the mountains. He'd asked you to join him, and you said yes. He was sweet, and it was easy being around him.

Baxter, meanwhile, was being anything but sweet.

"You're the mountain boy," you told him, trying to pull him out of whatever funk he was in. "What do you think, will I need a jacket?"

"And proper shoes," he said quietly, arms and legs crossed tightly. "You'll want to bring something for the weather too, the forecast is calling for rain."

"What would you suggest? Raincoat? Umbrella? Poncho?"

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. You waited, but he wouldn't speak.

"What is it?" you asked.

He looked up at you -- a glare, almost -- and said, "I would suggest you not go at all, but it seems you've made up your mind."

"What's the issue with me going?" you asked, getting even more confused than you had been. "I'm not going to be gone for long, just a couple of days."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

He paused, then, keeping his eyes down this time, said, "You don't know him."

"Derek?" you asked. "Sure I do. We've hung out plenty of times. You've hung out with him too, he's the most harmless guy on the planet."

"But you're going to be going off alone with him, hours away, together in a tent in the middle of the woods," he argued.

"And?"

You studied him, trying to understand why he was reacting so strongly to this. You couldn't see a clear answer on his face, but you did see he was digging his fingernails into his arms.

"Seriously, what's the problem?" you said, sitting down beside him and grabbing his hands so he'd stop. "What's going on?"

Baxter still didn't seem eager to talk about it, but something in him softened when took his hands. He held them gently, running his thumb over your knuckles, and said, "He likes you."

"No, he doesn't," you said quickly, sure that wasn't the case. "We're friends."

"You can't possibly be this oblivious," he muttered, and you yanked your hands away from his.

"If you're going to be rude, then you can leave," you told him, getting angry.

"I'm not trying to be rude, I'm trying to get you to understand that perhaps going off for a jaunt in the woods with the Incredible Hulk that you've known for approximately two minutes isn't the smartest plan."

You'd been getting angry before -- you were fully there now.

"I'm not stupid," you said, standing up again, "and you're being a jerk. What do you think he's going to do, abduct me or something?"

Baxter stood as well, and took a step closer to you. He was so slow to anger, except when he pointed it inward, but it felt like he was staring daggers at you now.

"I just want you to be safe," he said sharply. "I care about you very much, and I --"

"If you care about me, then trust that I can make my own decisions, I'm not some dumb, helpless --"

"I know that!" he said, near yelling, moving closer still. "That's not what I'm saying, you're not listening to me."'

"I am listening to you, you're --"

"You're not," he said firmly, closing the distance between you entirely. "I don't want you to go off with some handsome, well-mannered boy who obviously has feelings for you. That's what I'm saying."

"Why?"

"Because I do know him, and I know exactly how charming he is. I know he wouldn't hurt you, but I ..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. His anger was turning into anxiety.

"You what?" you asked, softening. "Please just talk to me, Baxter."

Instead of talking, he took you in his arms. Surprised, you hugged him back. Then you felt his breath, hot against your ear, and he said something so low you barely heard him.

"Please tell me you won't sleep with him," he said.

Appalled, you pushed him off of you. Your anger had returned tenfold.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, the frustration clear in your tone. "I'm not even dating Derek, but it's not any of your business what we do anyway. Why you even care this much?"

He didn't say anything, and he wouldn't meet your eyes again. You knew this phase of the Baxter emotional cycle -- he was shutting down.

"Go home," you said finally.

Without looking at you, he swiftly moved to leave your room. You heard his footsteps go down the hall, and after a moment you heard the front door shut.

Then you heard your phone go off in your pocket.

It was a text from Derek that read, "Hey! Excited for tomorrow?"

"Yep!" you replied. And you were. Baxter wasn't going to ruin that for you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, you met Derek at his condo, and you left bright and early. He was all smiles and laughs and brightness, and the drive to the campsite was fun. It was always fun with Derek.

He took the lead when it was time to set up your things, not wanting you to lift a finger as he put up the tent. You did anyway, of course, and it was obvious how much he appreciated it.

It was getting into the evening after it was all said and done, and Baxter had been right -- the rain did come. Derek didn't mind, he just pulled you into the tent and zipped it up until it passed. And with his warm presence so close, you didn't mind either.

You set about situating your sleeping bags and the other things that you'd brought into the tent with you. When you were done, you still heard the rain falling.

"Guess this is it for tonight," Derek said, not sounding too bothered. "Don't worry, it's supposed to be clear tomorrow. It might be muddy, but I think we'll still have fun."

You smiled at him, happy to be spending the time with him. You hadn't known him too long, Baxter was right about that, and you didn't think he liked you, at least not in a romantic way. But he was a good guy. And it felt nice to be here with him.

"So, how do you want to pass the time?" he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"This is your trip," you told him, playfully nudging his shoulder. "You go first."

"Ok," he said, then approached you. Before you knew it, his arms were locked around your waist, pulling you in tight against him. He smiled, looking proud of himself.

"I made my move," he said. "Your turn."

You pushed everything out of your head -- your fight with Baxter, your years-long crush on him that hadn't gone anywhere for so long you thought it never would. Your reservations, your fears, your nervousness, you shoved it all away and put yourself firmly in the moment.

Then you kissed him.

[foxyarchive]

Glass in the Ocean[P1]

After your grandfather's unexpected death, you find yourself temporarily living with your grandmother until she can find someone else to help her run her shop.

You, and everyone else, have always been taught not to trust mers. Even with this information, you find yourself drawing closer to three mers who have kept themselves hidden from the local populace for years, now. The closer you grow to them, the more you begin to learn about them, and the more the truth begins to unravel.

Was originally supposed to be just some steamy fun times with the boys but I got carried away so there's plot now so it may move a bit fast :,) Hoping for weekly updates!

Cross Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Mention of family death, almost drowning(not really though)

Words: ~5.2k

Tags in the comments! Ask to be added to the taglist!

P1 | P2 | P3

The ocean had always been a force of nature you were afraid of testing your luck with. Tumultuous tornadoes or shrieking storms? Terrifying, sure, but nothing that really got the hair standing on the back of your neck quite like the thought of being lost to the yawning expanse of the sea. There was still so much that was unknown about it, after all. Not only that, but waters were extremely dangerous when filled with such a variety of life; Intelligent, too. 

Sharks were an issue to those who couldn’t keep to themselves. After all, they preferred to stay in their own waters, away from beaches where pesky people invading their space roamed and swam. Jellyfish could be terrifying in their own right, too, along with any seals that happened to be swimming too close and feeling a little too irate at those in the waters. All of those animals had one thing in common, though: Intelligence. Although the creatures held enough intelligence to make decisions of their own(and most were much smarter than humans assumed), most of them acted on instinct. They didn’t purposefully go out of their way to ruin your day, unless something spooked them enough to. Perhaps they were feeling a bit peckish as well– It’s only natural. 

No, the ones who purposefully sought a chance to absolutely fuck over your entire life were the mers. Cruel, intelligent creatures that loved to see nothing more than the suffering of landwalkers. They would pretend to play nice with you, inviting you in with the allure of wanting to learn more about yourself or the world beyond sea; Those that could speak the common coast tongue, at least. It was rare to find a mer who could actually speak any coast tongue, besides a couple of keywords; Namely, those were something like, ‘Help!’, or, ‘Save me!’. Another luring tactic, besides their ethereal looks. Mers were beautiful creatures in the eyes of many. Flawless skin with long, sleek, shimmering tails. It could be easy enough to trick humans into coming closer, and those allured enough fell right into their trap. 

Most mers only had their claws, inhuman strength, swim speed, and fangs, though. Thank God for that, as the very rare, known as ‘sirens’, had the ability to actually put some under a spell. Well, scientifically, it wasn’t actually, technically a spell. It wasn’t quite magic, after all, but the song apparently made chemicals in your brain flood enough dopamine to lure you towards the sensation. A heady, hazy mixture of lust and a false sense of security. Any sirens that were caught out were usually killed on sight. Not all mers were immediately killed, after all. Despite the fear humans had of them, and the staunch irritation, there was a certain balance to the ecosystem to be had… And certain prices to pay for killing a member of a pod. 

All in all, everyone was taught not to trust mers. You weren’t excluded from this, but you never found yourself taking all of these warnings too seriously just because you had no desire to go swimming in the ocean. Any beaches made specifically for human points to swim in were always well guarded by eco-disruptors, and even the occasional patrol boat set with a spear. Anything else beyond that, though? It was a risk to swim, especially alone. Luckily, some areas were less densely populated with mers, which made them booming vacation spots. 

You happened to be visiting one of those areas, but not for vacation. It was a more somber occasion, unfortunately, which would be followed by some work. Your grandfather had just unexpectedly passed away, and you were going to attend the funeral. Thankfully, your job allowed you to work from just about anywhere that had internet. Your grandparents had owned a small shop together after they retired to the coastside; A cute little building with beautiful glass blown and shaped figurines on the boardwalk. It had been something your grandmother loved doing, and you knew that closing it was the last thing she wanted to do. However, you knew she couldn’t keep it open herself. So, then, you decided that you’d help her out for a while until she found somebody who could work with her. 

You weren’t an expert in glass blowing or shaping, by any means, but you’d done it a few times before with her. She was going to take on the brunt of the molding, and you knew you’d only really would need to help with holding and blowing when necessary. It was something you could do between your actual job, so why not? 

It had been a long time since you’d visited the coast; At least, right up on the edge. Your grandmother had her own little house right along the coast, as did many others around here. Something your grandfather had managed to snag years ago, when you could practically buy homes with bubble gum and paperclips. The home was well maintained enough, even if it could use a fresh coat of paint and some reinforcing in parts of it(namely the balcony, some of the wood sagged just a bit too much). If you were handy at all, you’d probably offer to take it on as a side project when you weren’t doing glass blowing or your actual work, but you didn’t trust yourself in the slightest. 

The service was early in the morning. You had driven in the night before, shacking up with your grandmother in the spare bedroom, which you’d come to call home for at least the next week or so. Probably longer. After the service, there had been the reception, which left you rather stuffed full of food, tired of mingling with family you hadn’t seen for a long time, and just tired in general. Getting here had taken a lot out of you, and it wasn’t every day you were so social. It was nice to see some family members you hadn’t seen in awhile, and swapped cherished memories of your grandfather. By the time it was all over, though, you were exhausted. Your grandmother was still out, and your immediate family had invited you to come peruse the town with them, but you declined, too tired. Instead, you headed back to your temporary home to take a nap so you could have dinner with them later in the evening. 

Eyeing the bed as you undressed from your funeral wear, a sudden idea crossed your mind. Peering out of the window, you took in the warm, inviting sky. Blue with fluffy, wispy clouds, you decided on a whim that you would do something you hadn’t done in a long time: You’d go sunbathing. This place was free of mers, after all. The beach was totally safe– Maybe except for some crabs and birds, but you doubted anything was going to come pinching or nipping at you. Decidedly, you put on your swimwear, grabbing a towel and large brimmed sunhat. After lotioning, you put on some flipflops, walking down the small pathway carved into the cliff, down to the beach right outside of the house. It was a quick walk, even if a little unsteady due to the uneven nature of the stone’s cutting, but it was worth the price to have easy access to the beach. 

You walked a little ways from the staircase, opting for some privacy should anyone return to the house early. Last thing you wanted was some annoying cousins throwing bits of plants or rocks down on you if you were right by the staircase. There was a decent sized overhang a good distance from the stairs, forming an alcove, and although you didn’t move to lay under it(you were trying to sunbathe, after all), it offered you some sense of security for whatever reason. Maybe due in part to it technically being ‘shelter’. You rolled out your towel with a flourish, putting your flipflops aside as you settled down with a sigh. The ocean was still a good fifteen feet from you, and you doubted the tide was going to be rising up anytime soon. 

Already beginning to feel more sleepy due to the sun’s rays beaming down, you decided now was as good of a time as ever to finally get some rest. Laying back, you popped your earbuds in, flicking on a playlist. After turning it down reasonably enough, you took a moment to admire the gleaming beast in front of you. It stretched out far beyond your vision, sparkles shimmering atop the vast deep blue. The waves were gentle, foam softly curling up onto the beach, free of any clutter or weeds. A serene smile pulled onto your lips, and for a moment, you thought about possibly swimming later. It was something you rarely ever did, ocean or not, so… Why not do it now that you’ll be local for a bit?

That was definitely later, though. Right now? It was nap time. You laid back, placing the sunhat over your face so the sun wasn’t glaring right onto your closed eyelids. You just hoped there wouldn’t be a significant difference in tan from your face on the rest of your body. Any worries about that quickly vanished as you dozed off, lulled by the sound of your music, encompassing heat, and the faint sound of waves rolling in the distance. 

—

You weren’t entirely certain how long you’d been sleeping for. You didn’t wake naturally, either. The reason you had begun to stir was because you felt droplets on your legs. The comparing cold drew you from your slumber as it continued, making you grumble and shift. It stopped, briefly, and you just assumed that there had been some spray carried by the wind. As you began to drift off one more, it happened again. It felt a little more prominent this time; The drops were fatter, and definitely more annoying. Then, there was more, and it managed to spray across your stomach as well. 

That’s when you finally sighed out, deciding that the wind was not on your side. Grumbling, you spread your arms, back arching in tandem in one long, delicious stretch. A moan of appreciation left your lips, and you found the stretch was so good that you were briefly left winded afterwards. Opening your eyes, you peered up at the sun, grimacing as you held a hand up to shield your vision from it. Wait. Weren’t you wearing your sunhat? Did the wind sweep it away? You took a moment to rub your eyes with the heels of your palms, before sitting up, scanning the area when your vision cleared. 

There were two concerning things, immediately. The first was that you did see your hat, beginning to be pulled along further and further out to sea. The second, much more concerning thing, though, was the creature that was partially washed up on the beach. 

“Oh, f-fuck!” You scrambled, hastily, to your feet. Or, well, you tried to. Your ankles had gotten caught up, tangled in your towel, causing you to just plop right back on your ass in the sand. The mer partially lounging let out something that you were certain was a laugh, and you weren’t sure whether to be cross or terrified. A mix of both, perhaps, as your eyes landed back on it. It– He, you were certain– Was partially out of the water, looking quite lazy. Well, if at least one thing was true about mers, it was their beauty. 

You were certain this was the most attractive creature you’d ever laid eyes on. He was lean and muscled, skin lightly sunkissed in a sense where he had a faint tan, but still didn’t seem quite as tan as you’d heard other frequently breaching mers were. His jaw was sharp, and so were his cheekbones, and he had this roguish, very handsome smirk on his face as his eyes met with yours. They were a beautiful, alluring umber, adding to the gorgeously tousled mop of hair atop his head that was a slightly lighter shade. Although all of that was most certainly attractive… You found your eyes trailing downward, taking in the sight of his tail. 

Long and slick, you couldn’t see all of it, as half of it was still submerged in the water. What you did catch, though, was that his scales were a glossy navy blue with a pretty pattern of blue yonder interrupting them. It was then you noticed he had some scales on his ribs, as well as on his hands and cheeks. It didn’t make him look any less unattractive, though, and was it weird that you kept referring to him as attractive? Probably. He was a mer, but damned if he wasn’t hot. You didn’t even notice that his lips were moving until you spied the faint activity out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t hear him, earbuds still softly playing music. 

“What?” You asked after you popped them out, trying to clear the haze from your mind that you convinced yourself was definitely shock and not anything else. He looked amused, lips curling up further, revealing a set of slightly sharpened teeth. 

“I said, if you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Oh, God, he’d totally caught you ogling. He didn’t seem to mind, though; In fact, he was practically preening under the attention as he turned onto his back, stretching out his lithe form. His tail curled up from the water, briefly, and you caught sight of the beautiful fin at the end; Long and elegant, but still webbed and strong enough to where you were sure he was a formidable swimmer like his kin. “I can pose, if you’d like.” He turned his head to the side, accentuating his delicious jawbone, and you noticed now his ears were a bit pointed at the end, scaled as well. Your cheeks immediately heated up, and you found yourself stammering, trying to assure him that, no, you weren’t going to take any pictures and you totally didn’t feel super attracted to a mer. 

Before any of that came to your lips, though, a sudden realization hit you: He was talking to you. 

“Y… You speak coast tongue?” You asked, a little astounded. That was so rare for mers, especially in areas where so few of them resided. Apparently, there had been less than five spotted here in the past six years, which meant that there were none. And yet, you happened to find one on your first day here, and he spoke your language? What were the odds?

“No.” He replied, rolling onto his stomach. You noticed a small fin on his lower back that shivered a bit under the ocean’s breeze. He rested his head on his arm, drawing a pattern in the sand with slightly webbed hands as his eyes took you in. He looked like a big, lazy, content cat. Not a care in the world. There was another flash of merriment in his eyes as he noticed your confused expression, before he gave another soft laugh as you realized he was fucking with you. They really were intelligent beings…

“That’s your hat out there. Right?” He asked, pushing himself up with an elbow, jerking his head in the direction of your floating clothing article. Stupefied, you blinked, merely giving a nod of your head. You didn’t trust your words. Was this a dream? “I can get it for you. If you’d like.” You didn’t know how to respond. All you knew was one thing that kept creeping up in the back of your head: Never trust a mer. This was literally all the signs of a mer trying to garner your attention and lure you in, from what you recalled. Looking alluring. Playing nice. Asking questions. This was the biggest red flag if you’d ever seen one. 

Clearly, he could read the hesitation on your face, and he let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “I don’t have to. I was just offering. Is it so wrong to want to be nice?” Your gaze hardened a bit, and you brought your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. He was still a good fifteen feet away from you. Even if he tried to advance on you, you were certain that being able to run was in your books faster than he could drag himself ashore to you. Well… Mers did have inhuman strength, so… Maybe that wasn’t quite out of the books. 

“Okay. Go get it.” You finally agree, suspicion still heavy in your gaze as you take in his facial features. He looked a bit smug, before rolling over once, and then slid back into the water. Once he was settled in it, he was gone with a whisper, and all was quiet once more. Your gaze found your hat, much further now than it was before. Nothing was happening… Nothing until you blinked, and it was gone. You looked around for any sight of the mer, spotting nothing until you saw the faint glimmer beneath the waves. He broke water as quiet as a mouse compared to the rolling of waves in the distance and on shore, your now sodden sunhat in his hand. You frowned a bit at the sight. “You had to drag it underwater?”

He seemed wholly unimpressed with your comment, frowning himself, a faint look of irritation crossing his features. “You’re welcome.” Is what he replies with, scoffing as he holds it out in front of him whilst he pulls himself back onto the shore. The perturbed look on his face is quickly replaced with another grin as he spies your hesitation. “...If you want your hat back, you need to come get it from me.” He purrs, waving the sodden article in your direction. You grimace, feeling annoyed at the proposition. Of course. That was his game. 

“I’m not an idiot, you know.” You bite out, and he sets the hat down, tilting his head to the side. He has this adorable curl that crosses over his forehead with a few other strands. 

“I never implied you were.” He responds, smiling peacefully, and you glower. 

“Obviously you think I am, though. As soon as I come over there, you’re just going to drag me under with you. No shot.” You insist, and he clicks his tongue, offering an unimpressed roll of his eyes. 

“Really? Come on. I wouldn’t do that.” He insists, rounding his eyes in what you assume is supposed to be a more ‘innocent’ manner. “Why would I go all the way out to retrieve your lovely hat, only to immediately kill you? I think you’ll look lovely in it, wet or not.” He purrs again, curling his lips up once more, and your scowl deepens. 

“That was hardly a swim for you.” Comes your flat reply, body prickling in uncertainty. “It'd probably be the easiest meal you’d ever get.”  “Please, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want to eat you; I’ve already had lunch.” He narrows his eyes, and you shudder softly against your will as you notice the more carnal look in them. “...Unless, of course, you’d like to provide me with a treat. That would be probably the best ‘thank you’ I could get.” You consider that he really is talking about ravaging your body, until you realize his eyes are pointedly staring at your crotch between your pulled up legs. Then, his eyes travel to your lips, before meeting your own. A sudden heat travels through your body that leaves you holding a breath. He takes the opportunity to shift forward a bit more, and that immediately brings you out of your stupor. 

“J-Just throw the hat forward! Please…” You ask, voice trembling a bit from the combination of soft lust and fear crowding your mind. “Thank you for getting it, but I… I can’t… I don’t trust you. Surely you understand.” You insist, one of your hands coming down to grip the towel. His lips come to form a thin line, and you’re not so certain the dark look in his eyes is as lustful as it was before. Your time is definitely up, now, and you quickly scramble to your feet. You grab your earbuds, phone and towel, beginning to walk back the way you came, but his voice stops you. 

“Wait!” Looking back, you see that he’s tossed the hat a couple of feet from him, and he’s pulled himself back just a bit. His tail is further in the water than before, he’s peering at you, gaze brighter than before, but definitely more unreadable. “...I understand your distrust.” He relents, and you hesitate for the third time this meeting, uncertain if you should take the bait. You still had the advantage on land… Is your cute hat really worth risking your life, though?

You look back at him. He’s just watching you now, a sort of benign curiosity over his own features. Maybe… He was just as curious about you as you were him. Clearly he’s had contact with humans before, though. He wouldn’t be able to speak otherwise. This is all a trap. You convince yourself, body stiff as you consider what to do next. You could just order another one… But it was perfect for here and now. You could just buy more in town, though… 

You consider that your life isn’t worth risking over a hat. And yet, you find yourself placing your items on the ground, your feet slowly inching towards the wet article. The mer watches your every move, head low to the ground, and your eyes are following the way his tail twitches beneath the waves. You look at his hands. He’s rested his head on them now. That assuages some fears… Maybe he really wasn’t going to do anything. Was he so bored that he just wanted to see you closer? Use you for amusement? Perhaps. That wasn’t the most egregious sin, though… 

You’re finally close enough to the hat, slowly bending down to reach it, as if trying not to spook him. He doesn’t move. You grab the brim, slowly bringing it up. For a moment, you find yourself just looking at him, and he’s looking at you. He’s even more gorgeous close up, now that you notice all of the little freckles and imperfections that dot his face. The only other ‘imperfection’ you could find, if you could call any of it imperfect(which you really couldn’t), was the small scar gouged into his forehead.

For once, instead of fear or any sort of weird arousal, you feel… Awe. This dangerous, beautiful creature sits not five feet from you, drinking you him as you do him. He has a sort of boyish charm to him that is enough to make you test your own willpower and suppress yourself from reaching forward to brush your fingers through his hair. Comb back those hairs that curl in front of his eyes, brush your thumb across the beautiful scales on his cheek bones… 

Seems you’ve been enthralled, and you’re not quick enough to move as he suddenly lunges and grabs onto your wrist. You cry out in surprise, molasses quickly turning into a rapid stream as you try to pull away, but he’s strong. Dear God, is he strong. “I helped you. The least you can do is return the favor.” He finally speaks up, and that look of wonderment that was in his own eyes has vanished. He looks smug like before, smirk planted as he tugs you a bit closer. 

“P-Please, let go!” You cry out again, trying to wrench free to no avail. 

“I just want one, little thing, then I’ll let you go. I promise.” He insists, leaning up a bit, his eyes flashing with that same dangerous intent as before. When he was looking at you like you were his next meal. His ‘treat’. Another shudder wracks your body against your will, and you bite your lip. “Just a kiss. Only one. That’s it. Please?” He tilts his head to the side, eyes rounding a bit into something akin to a puppy. Oh, no… That was awfully convincing, especially with that heat still in his eyes. 

Okay. You had been a fool once, shame on you. But twice? You were not going to die here today. Most certainly, no kiss was worth dying for, and you knew better than to trust his words, now. His grip was painful, only because he was strong, but he didn’t claw at your arm or wrist, thankfully. 

“...If you let me go, I’ll kiss you.” You finally said, quietly, heart thundering in your chest. He seemed to contemplate this for a moment, eyeing you to try and find any deception. Finally, he pushed himself up a bit more, giving a small incline of his head in agreement. Slowly, he released your hand, letting it come to rest in front of his chest. You were so very grateful that the Lord had granted you the strength to go through with your plan and resist that very kissable face. 

As soon as he released you, you turned on foot and fled. Or, that’s what you tried to do, but he was so fast. He grabbed onto your ankle, jerking you back, and you fell with a painful gasp. A wheeze left your chest as you struggled for breath, but you realized you needed to struggle now to not be pulled into the water. He was beginning to drag you, laughing all the way, and you shrieked in fear, desperately trying to claw your hands into the sand. You were so, so stupid. Why the fuck would you do that? Why did you have to go back for your hat? Why did you have to stand there and admire him? 

“H-Help! P-Please, no! Let me go, let me go!” You shrieked, feeling hot tears begin to roll down your face as fear bloomed through your entire being. You tried to kick and pull, but he was easily able to evade your swats or keep you held tight. Whereas before, with your wrist, he was being careful, he most certainly was not with your ankle. You felt his nails digging into you, and you realized that this probably really was the end. Mers had the capability of releasing a neurotoxin that could easily make your mind and body go numb if enough was administered, and you were almost certain that was happening to you as you felt a cold flush through your system. You didn’t think it was the waves hitting your body, after all. 

“Stop! S-Stop, please, I– I’ll s-stay away, I promise!” You sobbed, feeling the water now up to your chest as you thrashed and pleaded with the mer. You wondered if he’d kill you here on shore, devour the best bits of you and leave your carcass to float along. At least then your family would know what happened to you. Perhaps, instead, he’d drag you further into the water, play with you until you just couldn’t fight back anymore, then he’d pull you down with him and drown you. Would it hurt? What did drowning feel like? All of these morbid thoughts floated into your mind as you fought and twisted and tried to claw at him, but nothing was working. You sputtered as water entered your mouth and nose, and your sob was bubbling as you once again shrieked hopelessly for help. 

This is it. There was a reason you didn’t you never wanted to fuck with the ocean, and yet you did. You had entirely fucked around, and now were finding out. What a fool you were. The shore was becoming further away, and you couldn’t let out anymore loud calls for help with water constantly invading your mouth, but you noticed he wasn’t drowning you. So… He was playing with his food first, then. Maybe you could do something about it. Catch him off guard. Go for the gills, or the eyes, or–

There was a whoosh beneath your body. Another bubbling shriek of terror left your lips, before something emerged behind you. There was an instant chittering of furious clicks that caught your ears, exchanged back and forth as you were tugged and pulled, and you suddenly realized there were two of them, now. Fuck. How many more were there? 

You expected to feel the rip and tear of your flesh, likely being fought over for food, but instead found the pressure around your ankle disappearing. You flounder, still feeling too paralyzed with fear and a hearty dose of adrenaline to make your limbs coordinate with what you wanted to do. There was a hiss, before you cried out again as an arm was wrapped around your torso, pulling you to another slick body. You fought and kicked, but all you stubbed your foot into was pure muscle of another mer tail. 

“Stop fighting me, please! I’m going to help you back to shore.” The voice piped up, sounding both a mixture of weary and fearful itself. 

“I can take her back; I was just messing around! I swear, I wasn’t gonna kill her!” Came the other mer’s voice, and although you noticed they sounded eerily similar, you pinpointed that one as the one that had dragged you. You fought and pushed against the mer holding onto you, but you did notice that you were being brought closer to the shore. You paddled as well, partially in an attempt to get away, partially to try and go faster, you figured. There was no response from one you were close to, but there didn’t need to be one. Soon, you felt your feet hit the sand, and you instantly pushed yourself away from him. 

It was a big of a slog to get through the water at your hips, but you managed probably the fastest you had ever done. You almost tripped once, but finally made it back to shore, chest heaving and ankle burning as you glanced behind you. You could see the mer that had dragged you out in the distance, a look of something akin to frustration on his face. What shocked you the most, though, was the mer that had taken you to shore. 

He looked just like the other mer. Identical down to the eye and hair color and facial features. The only real difference you could find was that he looked just a bit more pale, and his overall features were somehow a bit softer, his hair not as wild. You couldn’t see his tail, but from what you could gleam from the scales on his cheeks, they were a lighter blue. He watched you, a concerned look on his face as you backed away. Tears were still streaking down your cheeks, and you fought to keep walking, trembling as he swam a bit closer. “I’m sorry for what he did. If you’d let me explain–” He begins to speak, but you’ve most certainly had enough. 

You turn, leaving your stupid hat behind that got you into this mess in the first place. You have the forethought to grab your towel and phone, because they’re far enough away. You don’t put on your flipflops and don’t feel your earbuds tumble out of your towel as you hurry down the sand. There’s more angry clicks in the background which sends a chill right up your spine, but you don’t look back, even as they recede into the distance and vanish.

[adorawasright]

I especially hate that Catra was always invading Entrapta’s space. Like… It’s a teenager being weird and touchy and creepy towards an adult. Just imagine, reverse the ages, and tell me that doesn’t scream ‘predator’. Idk what the writers were thinking, but the fact that Catra is doing this a lot with an autistic adult really irks me. Are they implying something there? Because idk WHAT THE FUCK it’s implying, but I don’t like it and I feel like it’s intentional.

Anyway… Something something Catra is a teen being creepy to an adult. Something something predatory. Something something character ages. Something something treating autistic people like they’re oblivious, dumb, or younger children. You probably know what I’m trying to say here…

I agree, though I firmly believe that Entrapta was not initially planned to be an adult. I always thought she was the same age as the other characters due to her young appearance (like they didn't even try to make her look a little older?). I think the crew only decided to make Entrapta an adult later on so that shipping her with Hordak wouldn't be creepy.

But yeah, it doesn't help that an autistic adult woman is infantilized and bullied by literal teenagers. And rewatching Catra being inappropriate with her is also a HUGE red flag that is rarely called out.

Really, the problem with SPOP is that a lot of its issues seem to be poorly thought out. Catra and Adora being raised as sisters but ending up in a romantic relationship, when apparently they were always "the heart of the show". Catra being a WOC despite having no canon basis, and yet still being a stereotype that WOC (or latina women more specifically) are abusive and "savages". S/pinnetossa also being an "angry black woman x calm white woman" ship. Double Trouble, a canon trans/non-binary character, being a lizard that disguises as a little girl only to get money. Bow being the black best friend that gets little to no character development. So on and so forth.

I'm sure most of these issues weren't intentional, but that is not an excuse, because in the end it teaches wrong things to its young audience.

(Please do not harass the crew members.)

[monsterblogging]

Pacific Rim: Ascension is pretty good, actually

So yeah, Pacific Rim: Ascension is a prequel novel to Pacific Rim: Uprising, and based on that you might think it wouldn't be that great. But IMO, it's very much worth reading for a number of reasons.

The author was clearly very familiarized with the lore developed for PR1, and actually integrates a lot of it into the story in a way that gives it a sense of depth, reality, and drama that Uprising and The Black lack. Characters are also generally written well (and Hermann is written so wonderfully well), and Vik and Jinhai's backstories are, in my opinion, extremely engaging. And if you're one of the people disappointed that the Kaidonovskys and Cherno Alpha didn't get more screentime, you are absolutely in for a treat.

For the lore-oriented fans, the author's clear attention to detail means this book is actually a fairly reliable source on what was originally developed for PR1, including Jaeger details and character histories. It does include at least one piece of outdated data (Romeo Blue having three legs), and the story claims that drift compatibility is something you either have or don't have (something we know isn't true from Beacham's posts), but there's no reason to dispute, say, Vulcan Specter having a drill weapon or Shaolin Rogue having an extra-aquatic design.

The book also gives us lots of wonderfully bizarre kaiju. The somewhat frequent mentions of tentacles (forbidden by del Toro) suggests that these are based on very concepts, or were invented by the author himself. Either way, they are absolutely great monster designs. If anything, some of the things these monsters have going on make the movie's kaiju look a little boring.

That said, it's not perfect. Hermann's cane is never mentioned at all, and - well, the rest of the issues are spoilers, so I'll put them under a cut.

We learn that some people have apparently been using Pons technology to implant programming into people's minds - a detail which ultimately has no relevance on the plot, and feels weirdly edgy for Pacific Rim. And I know it's a common trope in sci-fi, but its proximity to right wing conspiracy theory bullshit makes it... not exactly my favorite trope. I don't know whether its presence in sci-fi is really super problematic, but in real life belief in this kind of thing has been used to basically justify witch hunting. Like, I understand the dramatic value here, but at the same time, people still living today were put on trial and even sent to jail based on belief that this was a real thing. Like I'm not going to tell you that this is an Objectively Bad Trope, but it's definitely a trope with a lot of terrible baggage.

The story also gives an explanation for how it was worked out that kaiju blood explodes when exposed to rare earth minerals, and it's pretty ridiculous. Supposedly a kaiju's blood rained down on a microchip factory, and the factory exploded. Accepting this detail means accepting that nobody's phones, laptop computers, or other electronic devices never came into contact with kaiju blood splatter or mist, and that kaiju blood never splattered into a damaged conn-pod. This is the kind of thing that should have been observed fairly early in the kaiju war, not several years in.

Also the PPDC in this book apparently just classifies information for No Real Reason, like the fact that a particularly violent kaiju cult tried to destroy the world. Like you'd think that this would be the kind of thing they'd want to broadcast, for reasons of "hey look how awful our political enemies are."

Also lol the fact that PPDC records pilots' drift memories and just peek into them is creepy. Like it doesn't exactly make Mako Mori look good when we learn she's been invading cadets' privacy like this, ya know?

But yeah like, I think it's definitely worth a read. The book shows a lot of imagination and makes good use of Pacific Rim's worldbuilding. Even if you don't like Uprising, you'll probably still find something to enjoy about it.

[ador3rin]

2:46am | what once was

pairing : kenma kozume x f!reader

tags : angst, hurt no comfort, empty relationship, post break-up

wc : 1281 words

you were never a big fan of games really, well, you were never a big fan of multiplayer games, to be precise. you were perfectly content with spending your free time roaming around the cozy landscapes of stardew valley or animal crossing, both which supplied you with plentiful in game friends. that was until you met kenma kozume. all of a sudden you found yourself booting up first person shooters and spending late nights attempting to improve your horrendous aim, with kenma in your ear trying (and failing) to help guide you through the tumultuous learning process. 

the late night gaming sessions with discord as your mediator soon turned into shy lunches together in the food court besides your university, which then led to hours spent besides each other in internet cafés, and before you knew it kenma began to monopolize both your spare time and your heart. then there was the one night spent in your apartment, where the line between friendship and something more had been blurred past recognition and the both of you shared a clumsy first kiss to the soundtrack of howl’s moving castle in the background. 

you can still recall talking him into starting his twitch streaming, playful boasts about how you could “impress the masses” with your gameplay and help his channel blow up, and blow up it did! kenma captivated the audience with his calm personality and intricate gameplay techniques, even sometimes letting his fans catch a glimpse of his softer side when he’d have you on as an occasional guest. of course tetsuro constantly begged to be featured, but he was always shut down immediately much to his dismay. something along the lines of how his ‘uncouth’ behaviour would get kenma in trouble, is what he’d get told. your heart swelled with pride, watching your beloved boyfriend do what he loves and succeed? there was nothing else in the world you could have asked for. 

so when did things start going wrong?

there was no major concerning issue within your relationship with kenma, but rather an accumulation of small things that continued to pile on until you were both suffocated under its force. he’d stopped saying ‘i love you’ as often, claiming that you knew so why did he have to tell you? your appearances on his streams became more and more spaced apart, until you just stopped appearing altogether. he barely had time for you in his schedule despite you rearranging anything and everything you could for a chance to see him whenever he’s free, and if you were able to make plans he started making a habit of blowing them off. on the rare occasion whenever you managed to get together, the littlest things seemed to strike a nerve and sour his mood, cutting the night short. you aren’t sure when, but at some point you were constantly walking on eggshells when it came to kenma. 

it’s fine, he’s just stressed, he’s tired, he has too much on his plate, i’m being too clingy, were the excuses you began to repeat to yourself over and over again like a mantra, desperately clinging onto what was left of your first love. at some point they stopped working. you stopped fighting. what hurt the most though, was it were as if he didn’t even notice the shift in your behaviour. maybe you weren’t as important as you thought. what remained of the relationship crumbled on one particularly chilly night, but you had the heat from the tears streaming down your cheeks to keep you warm. he left your apartment without glancing back. 

warmth encompassed your body from head to toe, a subtle hint of sandalwood invading your senses as you slowly arose from your slumber. your drowsy vision was met with golden feline-esque eyes pooling with adoration, “morning sleepy head.” kenma’s voice called out for you, a faint whisper as soft as the breeze that swept in through the window that was left ajar. the ghost of a gentle kiss brushed against your forehead, luring you back to the land of the conscious. “ken?” you murmured brows furrowed, an uncomfortable pit beginning to form in your stomach. with fluttering eyes you struggle to focus your sights onto the imperceptible silhouette beside you. 

“wait, why are you here?” your lips echoed the thoughts swirling in your foggy mind, unable to logically grasp at your current situation. he shouldn’t be here. “kenma?” you called out once more with intent, a cold chill shooting through your form as you abruptly sit upright rubbing your eyes with desperation. the previous warmth had all but vanished, and the lingering scent of sandalwood still playfully wafting around you as if to mock as you sat in your bed, alone. 

everything was a reminder of him–or rather, the lack of him. you were haunted by the memories of what once was, and even though it was cruel, you couldn’t help but hope he was tortured too. the stack of games you’d purchased throughout the course of your relationship now sat abandoned, collecting dust in some corner of your living room as you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy them anymore without the one who’d introduced you to them. 

you no longer ate near campus, opting to reclude to your apartment with this week’s bag of cup noodles and other various microwavable meals. perched on the floor with your laptop set up on the coffee table you aimlessly scrolled through netflix for something to fill the silence surrounding you. it has been almost two months since you broke things off but he still frequented you mind, as you often found yourself wondering about little things, has he dropped out of that one class he hated?, has he reached his subscriber goal yet?, is he doing okay or is he just as much of a mess as you are, or, has he found someone new? you shudder at the thought and your heart pangs.

switching tabs as you fall victim to the curiosity, your search bar autofills and you’re met with kenma’s familiar streaming profile, looking the same as it always had since the day you helped him finalise the colours and overall aesthetic. a selfish part of you was glad that he left things relatively unchanged, for it served as proof of your previous presence in his life. there’s a red blinking button besides his username, signifying that he is currently live and you stare at it for a split second before clicking without a second thought. you make eye contact with your reflection on the black screen as you await with bated breath, once the screen loads you’re met with his face. 

this isn’t the first time you’ve let yourself peruse through his socials, but it is the first time you’ve been able to catch him live, able to glimpse at him in real time from the safety of behind your screen. he looks good. he’s smiling, ever so slightly, eyes cast down presumably at his phone. there’s a hint of tenderness in his expression that you’re sure only you can pick up on, as you were once the sole recipient of such soft looks, despite the fact that you were unable to recall the last time he had looked at you so intimately. suddenly your appetite escapes you as he addresses the audience, his golden eyes boring into yours as he announces that there will be a special surprise guest on next week’s stream. you foolishly hope with all your being that he had finally given in to tetsuro, as you shut off your laptop avoid finding out. you immediately regret snooping, as your miserable mind begins to run wild.

# mew’s comments :

omg? me? posting on tumblr? insanity.

this is a really old draft, i'm trying to get around to finishing my old work so i apologise if im a little rusty :')

but yay! hi! i'm kind of back, i've missed it here!

[howtofightwrite]

Hi! I have a battle scene that takes place on the coast and a few questions concerning the practical positioning. The defending side A 's cavalry are one of their biggest strengths and include a small section of rare transformative horses that can swim and breath under water. They stand on the coast and surrounding fields. If B, on the offense, arrive on the beach on boats how would A position their cavalry and infantry?

I'm not sure if there is any use in having cavalry on the beach facing the offense. Would they likely position their infantry first facing the sea with their cavalry further behind them i.e. where mounted archers can attack from and move around quickly. Depending on the geography could mounted soldiers charge B's troops once they reach the beach? Or would it just be impractical for the horses (the non-fantasy ones).

The setting is Tolkein-similar medieval fantasy with some more advanced technology in the works.

So, the first thing that comes to mind is that transporting horses by sea is notoriously difficult. I'm not an expert on horse transportation, but from what I remember the stress of transport alone can be fatal, on top of that, their legs and lungs are especially vulnerable while at sea. Finally, getting horses ashore without a full port is going to be extremely difficult without modern amphibious landing craft. So, it's not easy for an amphibious assault force (your second faction), to bring cavalry. Somewhat obviously, if their cavalry doesn't involve living horses, some of these problems may not apply. (Either fantasy animals who have no issues with being cooped up on a ship for weeks at a time, or the undead, or something else entirely.)

With all that said, it is possible to transport horses by sea, but it is difficult. Also, it occurs to me, after writing this, that you specify if the second group had cavalry.

The transforming horses (kelpies, or whatever), might not have an issue with being aboard a ship, and may be able to embark and disembark mid-voyage. It's kind of hard to tell. Depending on how far they can clear the water, they might be useful for eliminating enemy landing craft before they can come ashore. You wouldn't even need that many of them to sufficiently cripple an invading force, unless the capital ships were specifically set up to deal with them and protect their their landing crafts. If the assaulting force didn't know about the horses, they may even be able to take out the capital ships before dealing with the landing troops.

I'm not sure how well horses take to sand, but for infantry, quickly moving on beach sand can be a lot more exhausting than you'd expect.

Historically, amphibious assaults, that is to say, attacking from the sea, is an extraordinarily difficult tactic. These forces are especially vulnerable while disembarking. They're likely to still be reorganizing themselves back into their units. They have their back to the sea, meaning they cannot fall back, and they cannot move forces behind their front line. They are stuck with their distribution of forces. And worse, their chain of command is likely to be somewhat disorganized as well. A lot of modern concepts about amphibious warfare are, just that, “modern,” and have been around for slightly over a century.

Spears and pikes are effective anti-cav weapons, so if the invading troops expect a cavalry as part of their initial retaliation, they can prepare for that.

But, I think, absent additional information, the answer on how to position their forces would be to simply send in their infantry immediately, before the invading force was able to finish disembarking, and cut them down, sending their transforming horses out any reinforcements or supports coming from the invader's ships. It's not even a positioning issue in this case, it's just about driving them back into the sea before they're organized and ready to fight.

-Starke

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[lumiereandcogsworth]

okay kinda random bc I haven’t seen this season but I saw queen charlotte gifs awhile back and someone was trying to stop the king from being by his wife’s side during child birth (I think ??) and now I’m curious if anyone could’ve stopped Adam in that scenario? I feel like no, absolutely not but 👁️

ooooh my gosh dude okay. okay. OKAY. OKAY!!!!!!!!!!! you have no idea how long, how many Years, i agonized over this topic. AGONIZEDDDD. the constant flipping around between historical accuracy and wanting them to share That Moment and knowing both of their personalities and OH MY GOSSSSHSHDHDJFNEKFJSKDJEKDJDK. alright. let’s get into it.

the fact of the matter is: i have put all 3 of their children’s births into my canon (not Graphically obviously but. the days have been recorded and are on ao3 🫡) so i can explain my thoughts quite thoroughly on how those three magical days went down. i know them quite well!

to answer your question, firstly, (and that scene in queen charlotte IS so good and i love that mini series IMMENSELY) no, there is absolutely nothing that could stop adam from getting to belle. proof of that is right in the movie, with that man doing gymnastic-level LEAPS across the castle roof while being shot at in order to get to his girl!!! so, no absolutely not. he WILL get to belle if needed.

THAT BEING SAID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! adam actually is not present in the room at renée’s birth! there were Reasons i ended up doing this. (and, just to say, i am still REALLY proud of this fic. i had been thinking about that day for years and then it all finally came to me one random night and i am immensely proud of it. plleeeaaassse read it if you find the time 🥹)

anyway, here’s the thing about adam and belle. as MUCH as those two love each other, as MUCH as they always want to be near each other, and invading each other’s space, i really and truly don’t think this particular (albeit, magnificent) event would strike them as something to be shared together. YES, there ARE plenty of recorded points in history when the man, against the status quo, stood by his wife while she had their children. queen victoria is probably the most famous example. and while i DID factor this in, VERY heavily, i just couldn’t shake the feeling that adam and belle wouldn’t be this way. it may seem counterintuitive to some people but listen, they’ve lived in my head for so many years, i just don’t question them much anymore. especially when it’s sort of Against the obvious fluff that i would love to see, ya know?? but here were my thoughts:

i think belle, having lacked a mother-figure and just like, girlhood & womanhood community in general all her life, would sort of Want this day to be a very, well, womanly experience. she only wanted midwives, there wasn’t even a male doctor present (which would have been weird for a queen!!!) and i think she was very intentional about this decision. she’s HAVING A BABY! and she hates that her mother isn’t here to help her through it and i think she’d just really want to take control and make it as special, in this regard, as possible.

(also adam definitely made sure she had the TOP midwives in the country. he vetted them Thoroughly)

and! i really feel like adam would not have particularly Wanted to be present. OBVIOUSLY HE WANTS TO SUPPORT HIS WIFE AND BE THERE FOR HER OH MY GOSH!!!!!!!!!!!!! but, given HIS upbringing, i don’t think he would actually genuinely REMOTELY want to witness a birth. even if it Was the love of his life, even if it WAS his child. he has so many complicated issues around manhood and fatherhood and i think that would kind of cloud any other ideas.

i don’t even think they truly talked about it, just given the times. it wasn’t like belle ever asked “hey do you want to be there?” because husbands rarely were. and she was already very set (and very excited!) about having this very WOMAN!! experience. and adam equally wouldn’t have inquired, already being so clouded with the Everything about it. (and, i think his worry about her having to go through that would trigger him to want to avoid it, unfortunately, but it IS okay since she wasn’t expecting him to be there anyway!)

SO !!!!!!! finding their reasons so very sound, i made that decision and wrote it that way! but the whole first chapter of the fic is adam being an anxious DISASTER pacing the floor just down the hall from The Room so i mean, there’s still plenty of fatherly nerves in there. and after he goes to meet his precious darling, belle tells him how much she wanted him there the moment she was born!!!!! so like. they DO LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH and very much Wanted to be near each other. just not for the birth itself! which is valid and i stand by this decision <3

the other two births are kind of wild lmao. and don’t ask me why! i just work here!!

juliette was born a MONTH early. she’s perfectly okay !!! but just tiny and very unexpected. so unexpected that adam was LITERALLY NOT HOME‼️ ough. not to spoil the whole opening premise of that fic but yeah adam was in versailles doing king things. and belle would have come with him but she was quite pregnant! and carriage rides were UNCOMFORTABLE! (and their toddler is VERY attached to her mama!!!) so belle stayed home. and let me be clear, adam DID NOT want to leave. he knew they only had a month to go and his worries about belle only increased by the day. but belle, Of Course, was like dont worryyyyy nothings gonna happeeennnnnn!!!! he was only going to be gone a week anyway so. WHAT COULD HAPPEN?🥲

i don’t know WHY belle went into early labor, don’t ASK me that, i just WORK HERE, but she did. it all happened quite suddenly and it was the most scared belle has ever been. both because she thought she was going to lose the baby and because adam wasn’t even home so everything just felt wrong. one of her ladies in waiting wrote adam an urgent letter and some galant postman hopped in his horse-drawn carriage and told them to fly like the wind, bullseye!! to get the letter to versailles. which obviously took multiple hours because uhhh country big and horses small.

so this time, belle gave birth pretty scared and also more distressed because she knew adam 1. Was Not There Waiting For Her and 2. WOULD BE LOSING HIS MIND THE MOMENT HE RECEIVED THAT LETTER AND STARTED BOOKING IT BACK HOME! gosh. it’s just a very very stressful day 😭 that fic is INCREDIBLY dear to me though because it’s mostly them FINALLY reaching peace. adam returns and meets his second baby girl and belle is at peace now that he’s back and that their baby is okay. (though,,, i do think belle has some postpartum depression because of how intense everything was, and how worried she still was about juliette. she was just so tiny!!! but she really did handle being an 18th century premie like a CHAMP. at one point adam says “that’s because she’s strong, like her mother” 🥹🤧 so anywayyyy adam wasn’t there for that one either but for a wildly different reason!!! i do truly think that if he HAD been there when belle went into early labor, she would very much have summoned him because i think for a moment she wondered if she herself was going to make it and wanted him with her. (which of course made her more distressed that she literally couldn’t ask for him! AH!) anyway the 18th century was craaaazyyyy lol let’s move on !

last baby!!! le prince!!! hooray!!! okay HERE you go i finally give you the fluff we so dearly crave. ADAM WAS AT THIS ONE!!!!!!!!! it happened for a couple reasons. mostly, it was unplanned, lmao. even though maurice came on time, not early like juliette, the labor was also pretty quick and sudden.

(i didn’t even SAY this earlier but belle was in labor with renée for like a full night and day before she even TOLD adam. she’s so stubborn. like GIRL? i know Exactly how that entire day goes but i haven’t actually written about it. i should though. but she basically avoids telling adam because they had a small but “important” luncheon with some dukes and nobles and such that day and belle was like “well obviously i can’t Tell Adam because then he’ll cancel the thing he’s been super anxious about!” not for a moment thinking about THE OTHER THING HE’S BEEN SUPER ANXIOUS ABOUT FOR THE PAST NINE MONTHS— anyway. she’s ridiculous. adam really had to hold back his scolding when she finally told him but oooooh boy he was PISSED. OUT OF CONCERN‼️ but anywaaayyyyy)

this last labor started in the evening when adam and belle were winding down for the night. the girls were already tucked into bed. adam’s reading a book on the sofa and belle is milling about with some project. and then all of the sudden it’s like WHOAH HEY HELLO ! ! and she HAD felt some slight pains earlier in the afternoon but being her usual “you’d say you were fine if your arm had fallen off” self, she just kind of ignored it (you’d think she’d have learned? after the first two? but no💖) but suddenly it’s like REAL and CANNOT ignore. so she tells adam and he’s like WHOAH !!!! and then he’s like aaahAAHHHH OKAY— and they Start leaving for the hospital wing.

(oh yeah i think renée was born in like this nice medical room of the castle. part of belle’s whole Plan. but juliette was born in the west wing since all that happened so intensely and they happened to be closer to their chambers than the hospital wing. they just needed a BED at that point.)

so anyway, my gosh, MY TANGENTS!! so ANYWAY, they Try to start heading to the hospital wing but belle’s like uhhhhhh frankly my guy i do not think i can do all those stairs. this is Happening. and adam is like oooh my gosh and gets worried and Knows how scared she was last time so with all that adrenaline and Husbandly Concern he just takes control of the situation!!! and says that okay, she’s going to have the baby here, and he’s going to send for the midwives to come up, and he’s not going to leave her side. so he doesn’t !!! he helps belle to bed and steps out of their room and tells the nearest guard to get the midwife girlies !!! (who come and stay at the castle around the six month mark of each pregnancy, just to be able to do check-ups and such) and then adam pulls a chair to belle’s bedside and sits by her.

and he just. like he’s SO scared but he isn’t the same guy he was when renée was born !! he’s been a father for seven years! a husband for NINE! he’s grown A LOT ! he’s still not super excited to witness this but at this point he is fully just concerned about belle. he helps her as much as he can. he gets a rag to dry her sweat and lets her nearly break his hand from squeezing it so hard. and she definitely, (stubbornly), tells him multiple times that he can GO and she’s FINE but he’s like yeah nice try + i’m here now + deal with it. and she does! and the midwives come soon enough and things Occur and adam gets to witness the birth of his SON‼️ im not sure what time he was born but it’s like just before sunrise. like 4am maybe.

(they were all born at night !! renée is born around 11:15pm and juliette is born in the early evening, maybe like 7pm or so. (adam doesn’t show up until like 10 or 11pm😭))

and boy it is a WILD experience for adam, my gosh. obviously none of it is truly processed in the moment, with all the worries and adrenaline and utter JOY upon seeing their baby. and it’s so !!! exciting because the midwife basically cleans the baby up and puts him in adam’s arms without much thought. so they keep tending to belle with the afterbirth and all that, meanwhile adam is like ‼️‼️‼️‼️ holding his baby boy feeling like nothing is real AT ALL. and he cries (he tears up upon seeing aaallll his babies) and he’s just. gosh. so happy. SO HAPPY. so happy that their baby is okay and so happy that his belle is okay too!!! he soon puts the baby in her arms and he kisses her forehead and they can’t stop smiling. and a bit of time later, the midwives give them some time alone and leave for a bit. adam gets up and circles the bed to climb onto his side, and he just wraps his arms around them 😭

this fic takes place a couple hours after all that chaos. it’s early morning and adam eventually goes to wake the girls so they can meet their little brother!!

the silliest part is, that after ALL THAT! i do think that adam and belle would both agree that adam Should be there. so they talk about that “for next time.” but little do they know, baby reecy was their last little darling 🥹🥰 so that’s the only birth adam was at!! but wow!!! wowie i love this family of mine!!💖

[mariacallous]

On February 6th, Tucker Carlson spent more than two hours interviewing Vladimir Putin. The interview later aired, in a version dubbed by what would appear to be Kremlin-provided translators, on Carlson’s Web site, one of Russia’s main state television channels, and the Kremlin Web site.

What Tucker Carlson Saw When He Interviewed Vladimir Putin

More than anything else, Carlson seemed surprised: by the fact that he got to interview Putin in the Kremlin and even film himself sharing some post-interview impressions in a room full of lacquer and gold leaf; by what Putin said during the interview; and by the man himself. Putin used the interview to deliver a lengthy lecture on the history of the Russian Empire, the Soviet Union, and its aftermath, meant to convince viewers that Ukraine never had a right to exist. When he was done with the lecture, he segued into a litany of grievances against the West, where several generations of Presidents, Prime Ministers, and Secretaries of State have, according to Putin, let him down or ghosted him. After the interview, an incredulous Carlson held up a gray cardboard folder with a little rope tie: Putin had given him copies of documents to back up his historical claims. Carlson hadn’t opened it yet. “I thought he was filibustering,” he said, still apparently reeling from the history lesson. “But I concluded after watching all this, no, that was the predicate to his answer: the history of the area and the formation of this country and the connection to Ukraine is part of the basis for his Ukraine policy.”

The content of Putin’s conversation with Carlson was barely distinguishable from the content of Putin’s rare speeches and so-called press conferences and hotlines—annual hours-long, highly orchestrated television productions. Putin’s obsession with history is genuine, as is his belief in a narrative that justifies, indeed makes inevitable, Russia’s war against Ukraine. That Carlson was surprised suggests that he either didn’t watch Putin’s earlier appearances in preparation for the interview, or that, despite copious evidence to the contrary, he imagined that Putin the man would match Putin the role: a dictator whose opponents get killed and jailed and who invades neighboring countries ought to be larger than life, terrifying in person, and certainly not boring.

Carlson emerged from the interview shaking his head. “Russia is not an expansionist power,” he said. “You’d have to be an idiot to think that.” Actually, you might look at the evidence—the invasion and de-facto control over about a fifth of Georgia in 2008, the annexation of Crimea in 2014, the continued occupation of about a fifth of Ukraine and the ongoing offensive there—to conclude that Russia is an expansionist power. During the interview, Putin gave every indication that he thinks of former imperial possessions as still rightfully Russia’s. That would include not only former Soviet republics but also Finland and Poland. “The professional liars in Washington . . . are trying to convince you that this guy is Hitler, that he is trying to take the Sudetenland, or something,” Carlson continued. “Not analogous in any way!” In fact, Putin had clearly, and more explicitly than ever before, channelled Hitler during the interview. This is what a tyrant looks like: small, and full of tedious resentments.

What Putin Saw When He Was Interviewed by Tucker Carlson

Here was an easy mark. Carlson meekly tried to interrupt Putin a couple of times, to ask a question he seemed stuck on: Why hadn’t all this history and these territorial issues come up when Putin first became President, in 2000? It was an ill-informed question—Putin has trafficked in historical revisionism from the start and became increasingly obsessed with Ukraine after the Orange Revolution, in 2004—and an easy one for Putin to ignore. It seemed to show that Carlson was less well briefed than Putin, who dropped biographical trivia about Calrson into the conversation, a trademark intimidation tactic of a K.G.B. agent. He mentioned, for example, that Carlson had unsuccessfully tried to join the C.I.A.

Carlson didn’t interrupt or challenge Putin on the many—too many to count—occasions when Putin told falsehoods about the history of Ukraine, the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the relationship between Russia and NATO, probably his conversations with former U.S. leaders, and, perhaps most egregiously of all, the Russian Army’s withdrawal from the suburbs of Kyiv after a month of invasion in 2022. Putin claimed that this was a gesture of good will aimed at achieving a speedy negotiated peace; in fact, it was a military defeat. This would also have been a good moment for Carlson to ask Putin about the well-documented war crimes Russian soldiers allegedly committed during that month of occupation. He passed up this opportunity.

Most important from Putin’s point of view, Carlson seemed to share two of his basic assumptions: that the war in Ukraine is a proxy war with the United States and that any negotiations will take place between the Kremlin and the White House, presumably without involving Kyiv. Carlson even nudged Putin to call President Biden and say “Let’s work this out.” To which Putin responded that the message Russia wishes to convey to the U.S. is “Stop supplying weapons. It will be over within a few weeks.”

What Russian Television Viewers Saw

Putin has reprised his history lecture many times. It seems likely that most Russians who watched the entire interview did so out of professional obligation—their job, as propagandists or political appointees, is to amplify and affirm the leader’s message. Ordinary Russians probably watched only outtakes and commentary. What they saw was that something momentous had happened: one of the most popular journalists in America came to interview Putin and looked like a deer in headlights. Channel One stressed both Carlson’s popularity and Americans’ evident interest in what Putin had to say. Carlson’s promotional video in advance of the interview itself had been watched more than a hundred million times! Russians see Carlson, not unreasonably, as a representative of a future Trump Administration, a preview of the coming America in which the liberals who support Ukraine are finally displaced.

What Tucker Carlson’s Viewers Saw

It’s hard to imagine an American viewer who would make it past the first ten minutes of Putin’s monotonous history lecture. (In the interview, Putin called it one of his “dialogues,” betraying either his ignorance or his idea of what constitutes a dialogue; the Kremlin translated “dialogues” as “my long speeches.”) The translator or translators generally cleaned up Putin’s prose, smoothing out passages that, in Russian, made no sense. For example, responding to Carlson’s question about a possible invasion of Poland, Putin said, in Russian, “Because we don’t have any interests in Poland nor in Lithuania—nowhere. What do we need it for? We just don’t have any interests. Only threats.” The translator rendered it as, “Because we have no interest in Poland, Latvia or anywhere else. Why would we do that? We simply don’t have any interest. It’s just threat mongering.”

In another exchange, the translator took liberties to make Carlson appear more dignified. When Carlson asked Putin about his obsession with fighting Nazism eighty years after Hitler’s death, the President said, in Russian, “Your question seems subtle but is very disgusting.” In English, though, Putin appeared to be praising Carlson’s question as “subtle” while Carlson himself, according to the transcript, called the question “quite pesky”— the words were actually spoken by Putin’s translator. However obscure the subject of Putin’s discursive exercise was, the genre probably looked recognizable to Americans. This was a conversation between an older man who has read a history book and fancies himself an expert and his eager nephew, who is trying to feign knowledge in a subject he failed in college. Except one of these guys reaches millions of viewers and the other has nuclear weapons.

What I Saw

I can’t get one passage out of my mind. In the history-lecture portion of the interview, when Putin got to 1939, he said, “Poland coöperated with Germany, but then it refused to comply with Hitler’s demands. . . . By not ceding the Danzig Corridor to Hitler, Poles forced him, they overplayed their hand and they forced Hitler to start the Second World War by attacking Poland.” (This is my translation.) The idea that the victim of the attack serves as its instigator by forcing the hand of the aggressor is central to all of Putin’s explanations for Russia’s war in Ukraine. To my knowledge, though, this was the first time he described Hitler’s aggression in the same terms.

Putin has reproduced Hitler’s rhetoric before. Ten years ago, announcing the annexation of Crimea, he seemed to borrow from Hitler’s speech on the annexation of Sudetenland. At the time, I assumed that the language had come from a speechwriter who knew what they were doing while Putin may not have. But the way Putin described the beginning of the Second World War in his interview with Carlson suggests that, although he keeps accusing Ukraine of fostering Nazism, in his mind he might see himself as Hitler, but perhaps a wilier one, one who can make inroads into the United States and create an alliance with its presumed future President.

It’s telling, too, that Putin took the time to accuse Poland of both allying with Nazi Germany and inciting Hitler’s aggression. As he has done with Ukraine in the past, he is positioning Poland as an heir to Nazism. He mentioned Poland more than thirty times in his conversation with Tucker. If I were Poland, I’d be scared. 

[alwayslosingtheplot-blog]

Epimeliad - the Shepherd's Isle.

One of the islands closest to the coast, and also one of the largest islands, Epimeliad has a surprisingly small population. The large spaces here are perfect for small cattle and large sheep, both of which are important for their hides and wool. This is what is mainly used all over the islands as a source of cloth. Other fabrics exists, such as a type of linen, but these are the most hard-wearing and reliable sources.

The wool and sheepskin is the reason that Epimeliad is very rarely attacked by any other nations. Sheep are rare on the islands and having access to wool is more important than any other resources invading might offer for now. Epimeliadians have made it quite clear throughout their history that they will kill a herd rather than have it taken by anyone else.

There is a breed of rabbit on another isle that is causing concern in court, are their fur is similar to wool and they require a lot less land and food to keep. Some have suggested large-scale assassinations of the animals take place, while others have tentatively put forward the idea of buying some of investing in purchasing some of the small beasts. Neither idea has gone down well in court with the Shepherds.

A 'Shepard' is the head of a Epimeliad family, as every family has at least three sheep- one male and one female. This is a man, in the tradition of this isle, and the title is inherted by his oldest son.

Some shepherds tend to their small herd themselves and live in little more than a hut. Others live in great manors and might never have actually touched any of their hundreds of sheep themselves. There are other types of families and professions in Epimeliad, but only Shepherds own land.

Epimeliad families are small and spread out, with more land being given to animals than people. There is a small city and something like a royal family, but most families here are related. It is very rare for any outsider to be allowed to live in Epimeliad and even rarer for them to be allowed to marry. This has caused something of an issue for people trying to find someone that they are unrelated to for marriage. Records are extremely important here and every family has a sheep-skin transcript of their family tree, along with a entire population cenus taking place once every ten years.

The children and grandchildren of any Epimeliad person who left home are allowed to move back and marry if given permission from their closest family still living on the island, or the royal family themselves.

Match-making is a vital job in this region and involves a lot of paperwork. As a result many people do not meet their spouse until the day of their wedding. Women marry into a man's family here. Men are allowed to only have a single wife their entire lives, unless given express permission from the royal family for another one. Women are allowed to have two husbands, should the first one die, but must remarry another man from their late husband's immediate family.

Excess children (counted as five and above) are considered as gifts to the temples and are not allowed to marry or have children unless their leave the island. The temples here are required to care for the elderly who have no children of their own, or whose children left the island. The variety of temple size and position in society differs greatly, with a temple inside the royal court being one of the most influential voices on the island, to tiny enclaves in the outer city and countryside which cares for the poorer folk.

Tourists are welcomed onto the island, and in the city their are 'locked gardens' where exist houses whose entire purpose is to extend the gene pool of the island. Everyone visiting the island may visit such a place (although most men only get to do so once). These were opened roughly 70 years ago. Before this foreigners were completely banned from stepping foot outside of the walled-off docks and families were dying off due to the lack of unrelated suitors.

The women who work their are treated well and considered as distant members of the royal family themselves, and harming or humiliating them is usually punished by banishment or death. Locals are forbidden from touching them. Once a woman in such an establishment has two healthy children, she is retired to being an entertainer at court and no longer provides other services.

The children are held in reserve, given an excellent education and are rewarded out in marriage by the royal family. They are married to important trade allies, dignitaries from other islands or to houses which the royals want to honor or any family which cannot find any suitable unrelated spouses for their children (although this is becoming rarer). They have very little to do with their mothers, having nannies and teachers from a young age, but the maternal relationship is encouraged after their mother is retired into being en entertainer.

These entertainers are singers, dancers, poets, but also socialites, mathematicians and philosophers and follow their own hierarchy. They are considered to be the most powerful women in the country other than the Queen-mother and Queen-consort and they too have very valued voices in court. They fall within the remit of these two women, with the Queen-consort given preference and the royal men are forbidden from speaking with them other than in a governmental meeting. They have no vote and cannot own land, but are considered advisors of the court. They are not allowed to marry or to leave the island unless travelling with the Queen-mother or Queen-consort as companions.

[hopefulatrocity]

From The Ashes- Chapter 5

Notes: Daryl and Pheonyx finally see each other! They don’t talk yet, not until after Daryl’s POV which is next chapter. I really needed to go in depth with their first sights of each other before moving to their interactions. I’m super excited for Daryl’s POV. There’s lots of denial and internal homophobia but it also will give you an idea of Daryl as a person(At least how I view him as). Also, in regards to Pheonyx’s descriptions of himself and how parts of himself cause him to be misgendered, this is just how it has been for me in the past. Flaired hips and stuff like that are not an indicator for Gender!! But unfortunately things like that are how people “decide” what gender to label people as usually. It’s in now way right, but it’s how I as a trans person have to look at myself in order to try to be properly gendered with strangers. 

Taglist: @yoongibaybee​

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @omiyours 

Banner by: @liminal-creations​ 

Chapter CW/TW: PTSD, anxiety, self-doubt, internal transphobia, mentions of past abuse/trauma, internal homophobia/biphobia 

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The night was long and Pheonyx was tired. He barely slept most nights anyways, but the stress was what was draining him the most. That and the 2 units of blood he donated the day before.  He was worried about Carl. Although the boy was doing better since his surgery, the risk of infection and complications were still prevalent. Especially considering there was no access to modern medical amenities. He was worried about the Shadows reaching the farm. With the weakness from donating so much blood and the constant anxiety coursing through his veins, going out to clear the woods and traps would have been suicide. He was worried about all the new people coming to the farm. The four men already set him on edge. Lori wasn’t a problem. Women rarely made his fight-or-flight response trigger. Outwardly, the men seemed nice, especially Rick and Glenn, but that didn’t mean anything. The darkest demons always had the bright faces of angels. The one who really worried him was Shane. After informing him of Carl’s successful surgery, Rick had given him the condensed version of what happened at the FEMA center when he walked in the house at sunrise. He said Otis told Shane to run, that he would provide cover, but the shadows had gotten him. Pheonyx knew it was a crock of shit though.  Otis was definitely the type to sacrifice himself to save a boy’s life, but Shane came back with Otis’s gun, he had seen it laid on the counter in the house. How did the older man lay cover fire without his weapon? Shane was lying about something. Pheonyx kept his theories to himself, though. He knew if he told Hershel, his stepfather  would insist on kicking all the new people out. Despite his anxiety with the strangers, his conscience couldn’t handle being the catalyst to throw out a group of people into the world as it was. It would be a death sentence.

He was worried about the little girl that was missing. Those woods were his home and he knew them better than anyone else in the family. Which means he knew how dangerous they could be. A scared little girl running around with no known survival experience? With shadows wandering around waiting to eat any living thing that crosses their path? Her likelihood of survival was small.  If he hadn’t needed to stick around to provide blood for Carl, he would have spent the night searching for her. He wanted to leave at first light, but Rick insisted he wait until the rest of the group got to the farm. Apparently they had a proficient tracker in their group, and the sheriff wanted both of them–and Kismet– to lead the search for the girl. It made sense but that didn’t keep Pheonyx’s skin from itching with the need to leave before more bodies invaded the farm.

His issues with strangers stemmed from many different things. When he was younger, after his mother had removed him from his abusive father’s clutches, he avoided new people like the plague. How could he trust anyone when the person he was supposed to trust most in the world had torn his body and mind apart? It took years for him to open up to anyone outside his family. All the progress he made, in regards to his fear of strangers, was destroyed when he turned 22 and ended up in the hospital, clinging to life and broken inside. 6 years later, even after leaving Georgia and seeking counseling, he hadn’t shaken the fear that coursed through his veins when he had to interact with new people. It wasn’t social anxiety. It was fear of being hurt. Fear of being outed. Fear of someone finding out he was trans and hurting him again. Fear of the invisible dirt that still clung to his skin sometimes. Fear of being used and being helpless. Fear of being destroyed. The world falling apart didn’t help matters. He was even more fearful of other survivors. The will to survive was a powerful motivator and good people rarely made it out on top. People who were willing to destroy, pillage, and hurt were the ones who lived.

Despite his fear, Pheonyx was currently leaning on the railing of the front porch as he waited for the other members of the group to arrive. His eyes were focused on the dirt road that led to the house. Sweat was already forming on his brow, a sign that the day was going to be sweltering. Pheonyx opted to dress coolly, a simple pair of men’s jeans–that were frayed and dirty at the knees from his frequent hunting trips– and a gray tank top. The tank top was for comfort but also to make himself look more masculine to the newcomers. Being misgendered was a huge fear of his. This was rural Georgia, the reactions of people figuring out his gender could be violent. So, he wanted to appear as “manly” as he could. Pheonyx was lean and he couldn’t help the flair of his hips that was often deemed “feminine”. The softness to his jaw and the roundness of his backside were also causes of his being misgendered. But the tank top allowed his muscled arms–covered in intricate art– to be exposed. Farm work and bow-hunting had shaped his tanned biceps perfectly. They weren’t massive but watching the muscles flex and the tattoos on his arm move was very affirming. The flatness of his chest also helped his gender euphoria. He needed the edge of that euphoria to get through this meeting. Along with the masculine clothing, he adorned himself with his weapons. He had his bow and quiver slung across his shoulder. The heavy weight of the cutlass and Glock on his hips provided him a small amount of comfort in the moment. He also had a hunting knife sheathed next to the gun.

Pheonyx wasn’t the only one waiting for the others. While Rick, Lori, and Hershel were inside with Carl, everyone else was outside in the front yard. Glenn and T-Dog were conversing quietly but everyone from the Greene farm was quiet. Most were still in shock over the loss of Otis. He did catch Maggie sending careful glances over to the young Asian man and had to stop himself from smiling a bit. Unlike Shawn, Pheonyx wasn’t the overprotective big brother. He encouraged his sister to date and form connections. Which was slightly hypocritical considering he avoided dating and relationships like the plague. He lied to Maggie about going on dates. He didn’t want her to worry about him, but the pain from 6 years ago still had a deep grip on his heart. And he couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone. He had hookups, only with women, never cis men. But even those were few and far between. Love was something Pheonyx wanted, but the initial hurdle of letting someone behind his barriers was the problem.

Kismet–who had been snoring on the porch next to Pheonyx– was the first to hear the caravan of vehicles. Ears perked, he leapt to his feet and his tail began to wag. Despite the plethora of scars from abuse on his speckled body, the pup loved people. Training him to guard had been a bitch. Anytime Pheonyx had Jimmy attempt to attack him, Kismet had jumped into the fray, thinking it was a cuddle game. Eventually the training had set in, but the dog was still entirely too trusting. While he was happy his dog had recovered from the mental scars he’d endured as a puppy, Pheonyx still worried that his love for people might get him hurt one day. He realized he was projecting his own anxieties on the dog but he couldn’t help but worry.

The loud rumble of a motorcycle drowned out the noise of the other vehicles, a large RV and a silver sedan. T-Dog made his way inside to let Rick, Lori, and Hershel know that the rest of the group had arrived. Pheonyx straightened, body tensing, as he watched the vehicles approach. His eyes were drawn to the motorcycle leading the group through the gates near the house. Even at that distance, his green eyes connected with ones the color of the Georgia sky.

The vehicles all parked and the man on the motorcycle stopped closest to the house. Pheonyx nearly tripped coming down the porch steps as he got a good look at the rider dismounting the bike. The man looked like he hadn’t showered in awhile and his gaze had a hard edge to it, but he was still the hottest man Pheonyx had ever seen. He was definitely older than Pheonyx’s 28yrs, with a few crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Short brown hair, perfectly tousled, surrounded a sharp face. Light stubble lined his jaw and his goatee framed soft-looking, pink lips. There were a few gray hairs speckled through the facial hair.  A small mole at the corner of his upper lips stood out from the light hair surrounding it. Dragging his gaze from the man’s face, his eyes settled on the man’s arms. The sleeves of his plaid shirt had been ripped off, and Pheonyx wanted to thank whatever god there was for that. It should be a sin to cover up arms that look that good. Dirt and sweat helped highlight every ridge and bulge of the firm muscles. They weren’t the kind of muscles that one gained by lifting weights for hours in a gym, these had been formed by hard work and real life strain. The man’s clothes weren’t form-fitting but Pheonyx could still see he was toned all over. Before that moment, Pheonyx had questioned if he was really bisexual. He wondered if his attraction to men was more jealousy, wanting to be them, as opposed to wanting them romantically or sexually. This man answered that question. He was definitely attracted to men. This man in particular. The man grabbed a crossbow from the back of his motorcycle and held it in his rough-looking hands. Masculine energy absolutely poured off of him  and Pheonyx wanted to be on the receiving end of that energy. He wanted the man to press him up against–

Pheonyx nearly jumped out of his skin when Maggie touched his shoulder. She had moved to his side at some point. “I think I found your dark, mysterious archer.”, she whispered in her brother’s ear with a small smile. “Close your mouth, Nyx. You’re practically drooling.”

Pheonyx shut his mouth, his face turning a bright red, and used the back of his hand to check that he didn’t actually have any drool on his face. The man’s eyes had drifted from his when he was dismounting the bike, but they met his again. Pheonyx’s heart, that had been racing from anxiety about the new people, was now racing for a different reason. Heat flushed his whole body and a light throbbing began between his legs. Shame filled his heart and he averted his own eyes from the blue ones that captivated him.

What am I thinking? There’s a little girl missing, Otis is dead, and there are dead people walking around. Now is not the time to be lusting after a guy who is most likely straight, Pheonyx thought. A darker voice, one that he always dreaded hearing, pushed to the forefront of his mind. Even if he wasn’t, why would he want to be with someone like you? You’re just pretending to be a man, just like those demons said–

The dark memories tried to push their way into his head, but he pushed them to the back of his mind. He was drawn from his thoughts when Kismet whined at his side, the dog was practically crawling out of his skin with need to go meet the new people. Pheonyx snapped his fingers to make the dog sit. He wasn’t sure if the people would want a 70lb dog rubbing all over them first thing. Besides the incredibly hot man, there was an older man adorned in a Hawaiian shirt and a bucket fishing hat, a woman with short gray hair, and a younger woman with longer blonde hair. The older man radiated energy that reminded Pheonyx of his Grandpops. That man didn’t have a mean bone in his body and his soul was much too good for the world. The woman with the short gray hair held her arms around her body, as if holding herself together, and he guessed this was the missing girl’s mother. Her eyes glinted with sadness but she held her head high. The younger blonde woman was a bit harder to read but she held her back rigid, trying to appear taller than she was. Pheonyx knew that she was avoiding some kind of pain, putting up a facade of strength.

Lori and Rick came out of the house, Hershel and T-Dog following behind them. The parents were much more relaxed today, and the color had returned to both of their faces. Although, Rick was still a bit pale from donating blood. Approaching the couple first, the man in the fishing hat had a look of concern on his face.

“How is he?”, he addressed Rick.

“He’ll pull through.” Lori smiled lightly and her arm brushed her husband’s, “Thanks to Hershel and his people.”, she looked at each of the Greene family, her eyes stopping on Pheonyx’s form. Gratitude poured from her hazel orbs.

“And Shane”, Rick cut in. “We’d have lost Carl if not for him.”

Everyone looked at the man hanging in the back. His black curls were gone now, shaved to the scalp after he returned with the supplies for Carl. Clothes much too big for his frame hung from him like a blanket. Patricia had obviously loaned some of Otis’s clothes to him, and a roll of anger filled Pheonyx’s stomach. Everyone sent nods and looks of appreciation to the man. Everyone except Pheonyx, of course. He knew the truth. Or suspected it, at least.

“We owe a lot to Pheonyx too. He donated blood. Gave Carl time until Shane could get back with the supplies.”, Rick continued and looked at him. Just like his wife, the sheriff’s eyes leaked waves of thanks.

All eyes turned to Pheonyx, including a pair of icy blue ones, and he had to stop from physically recoiling. He kept his eyes downcast and busied himself with scratching Kismet’s head. The dog was still shaking with excitement and appreciated the touch. Maggie reached out and placed a comforting hand on his back, noticing her brother’s anxiety.

From there, hugs of relief were exchanged in the group. Pheonyx released Kismet from his sit command and warned him not to jump on people. The pup went up to each of the new people, butting their legs with his blocky head in greeting. Smiles lit up dirty faces and Pheonyx felt a sense of pride, knowing that his dog could bring a bit of happiness to people who were experiencing a plethora of hardship. Kismet’s wiggly body went from the young blonde woman, to the woman with short gray hair, to the man in the fishing hat. Each one of them gave him a head scratch and body pat. Lastly, the dog ended up in front of the man with the crossbow. Pheonyx tensed a bit. Yes, the man was incredibly hot. But he also was very gruff and had a hard edge to his energy. Pheonyx didn’t want him to be angered by a rambunctious dog. But his worry was for naught. The man wasn’t as open with his affection for the dog, but there was a whisper of a smile at the edges of his lips. He dropped one of his hands from his crossbow and let Kismet sniff the dirty digits. Taking it as an open invitation, the pup rubbed his head against the man’s large hand. Thick fingers deftly scratched behind his soft, floppy ears and a look of bliss filled Kismet’s chocolate brown eyes. Pheonyx couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the attention Kismet was getting from the man. He would kill to have those calloused fingers scratching behind his own ear.

“We’re about to have the service for Otis. If your people would like to attend, they’re welcome to.”, Hershel said to everyone before leading Beth, Jimmy, Patricia, and Maggie towards the copse of trees where they decided to place a marker for the deceased man. With the FEMA center being overrun, there was no chance of getting Otis's body back for a burial. So early that morning, Jimmy and Glenn had started a large rock pile as a memorial for the man who gave his life to save Carl’s.

Everyone gathered around the tribute. Choosing to stand a few feet away from the service, Pheonyx quietly told Kismet to sit and placed his hand on the dog’s head, more for his comfort than Kismet’s. The only sounds around them were the sniffling from Beth and Patricia, and the whistling of the trees as a light breeze blew through the farm.

Hershel pulled out his bible, the one his father had handed down to him, and began to recite some verses. Each person, even those from Rick’s group, took turns placing rocks onto Otis’s memorial. Pheonyx tuned it all out, choosing to stare out into the field, watching the tree line to make sure none of the dead snuck up on them. He was only brought back to reality when Hershel asked Shane to share Otis’s last moments. The man protested, panic filling his brown eyes. But Patricia pleaded with him, wanting him to reassure her that Otis’s death had meaning. Pheonyx had to hand it to the man, he did have a way with words. His voice was very reminiscent of a football coach, giving an inspirational speech before a homecoming game. Pheonyx knew he was lying though. He was too detailed. Focusing on small details too much. People who go through extreme trauma like that don’t remember the small details. He sounded like he was reading from a newspaper article. Feeling his anger rise, Pheonyx sneered and turned his head so no one could see his reaction.

Carl and Sophia, think of them. Pheonyx thought and took a deep breath. If Hershel finds out Shane is lying, he will throw the group off the farm.

The only thing he was grateful for was that Patricia was placated by Shane’s words. She was wiping her tears and smiling as Shane placed a rock on top of the pile. Hershel had everyone bow their head in a brief moment of silence for the deceased man. With everyone’s eyes averted, Pheonyx took that moment to step forward and grab a rock from the wheelbarrow. The dirt from it smeared on his hand. The weight of the rock symbolic of his grief, Pheonyx placed the stone on top of the memorial. Those few seconds were all he allowed himself to feel the pain from losing Otis. He didn’t have enough room in his heart for more and a sense of foreboding told him that this was only the first of a long line of deaths yet to come. 

Prev Next

[spacestationstorybook]

okay some rebooted quiver lore since i love playing around in the space with my inserts. yayyy yippeeee

-from a small, isolationist planet that purposely hides itself from outsiders and discourages its own citizens from leaving as they believe it's their duty to guard the rare and magical mineral found only on their planet, celestium

-quiver is named that because their antennae twitch as a nervous tic

-they want to be a spacefarer SO BAD IT'S CRAZY. not to assign my self insert a‏‏‎ ‎disney‏‏‎ ‎song‏‏‎ ‎i know it's cheesy of me but they're‏‏‎ ‎how‏‏‎ ‎far‏‏‎ ‎i'll‏‏‎ ‎go‏‏‎ ‎from‏‏‎ ‎moana.‏‏‎ ‎yeah‏‏‎ ‎

-working on building a ship in secret

-recently i've been exploring the idea of using my self inserts to vent a little more. most of my s/is' families are just exact transplants of my actual family (unless their family is lore important like‏‏‎ ‎antigone‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎being‏‏‎ ‎a‏‏‎ ‎vo‏‏‎n‏‏‎ ‎vestra) but a little more generic and i don't normally put the Problems with my family into the universes but i feel like quiver's family not really understanding their love of space exploration and subtly discouraging it is something i might play around with. because while i know my family does love me it feels like they tend to ignore the parts of me that don't fit a specific mold and only accept the things i love that are convenient to them. so

-they do not get kidnapped like in the original lore. orphyx‏‏‎ ‎(their planet) gets invaded by‏‏‎ ‎lord‏‏‎ ‎hater‏‏‎ ‎and while their species is strong they eventually get overwhelmed by sheer numbers. quiver is working on their ship while this happens

-upon finding out about the invasion they sneak aboard the ship in order to have a Hero Moment and try and liberate their species but they get caught :( and imprisoned :(

-peepers‏‏‎ ‎walks‏‏‎ ‎in‏‏‎ ‎on them fixing the light in their cell because it was flickering and annoying them. he learns they're good at engineering and because the ship has all sorts of structural issues "hires" them on a provisional basis. except they don't get paid they just get to be free from prison. they agree to this intending to take down the empire from the inside

-after that things generally proceed as in the normal lore. enemies to lovers slowish burn. the‏‏‎ ‎sylvia‏‏‎ ‎romance happens second i'm still planning that one out but they get along right from the beginning.

-the gem on quiver and other orphyxians' foreheads does a lot of things including increase their senses and allow telepathic communication. it's much easier to do with other‏‏‎ ‎orphyxians‏‏‎ ‎but they can do it with other species if it's someone they really trust.‏‏‎ ‎quiver‏‏‎ ‎can talk aloud but it feels more clumsy and awkward for them so they tend to not talk very often and use short sentences when they do. they are a big fat blabbermouth telepathically though. because it's based so heavily in trust the first time they talk to‏‏‎ ‎peepers‏‏‎ ‎telepathically is a Moment for both of them.

-after they get freed from the skullship‏‏‎ ‎because‏‏‎ ‎Feelings Happened they finish building their own ship have an emotional moment with their parents where they convince them to let them do their thing even if they don't understand it and start traveling the galaxy in their own spaceship :)

-also info on the‏‏‎ ‎dominator‏‏‎ ‎au.‏‏‎ ‎wherein she finds their planet before‏‏‎ ‎hater‏‏‎ ‎does‏‏‎ ‎and destroys it but they manage to escape and make a bargain for their life with her and become the‏‏‎ ‎peepers‏‏‎ ‎to‏‏‎ ‎her‏‏‎ ‎hater‏‏‎ ‎essentially.‏‏‎ ‎it's mostly bad but she still likes them better than anyone else which is admittedly a low bar. i don't really ship with‏‏‎ ‎dom‏‏‎ ‎i just love her as a character and i love the potential of their character dynamic

[unhonestlymirror]

Illya Muromets syndrome.

According to legends, Illya Muromets (Murovets) was the only son in his family. He was disabled and couldn't even get up on his feet, so he had to lie on a stove. Muromets suffered from his illness for thirty years.

One day, when Illya found himself alone at home, three wise wizards came in and asked for water. Illya really wanted to give something to drink to the travellers because in Ukraine, if you don't offer something to eat&drink, you are considered an extremely bad host.

So Illya forcefully lowered his legs and sank.

- Well, Ilya, you had a great illness and survived. Now you will be happy, your father and mother will be happy, because you will be a healthy and strong bohatyr - the wizards said.

They handed him a mug of water:

- Here, drink this, and then you will feel what will happen to you.

Illya took it, bowed once.

- What do you feel?

- I feel such strength, - Illya said, - that if a ring were to be inserted into the earth, I would take that ring and throw the whole world over.

- Good! Don't flaunt your strength, and don't tell anyone, but do it so that your father and mother are happy with you. Do not do evil to anyone but only do good.

Thus, Illya Muromets became a bohatyr, an extremely strong warrior, who could pull an oak tree out of the ground and use it as a weapon. Although, he still preferred to use his sword and a bow. He protected Kyiv from invaders.

However, even such a strong person had a weakness. To Illya Muromets, it was his land, his ground, both his weakness and strength. Wherever he went far from his land, he took a handful of Ruthenian earth as an amulet. They say, if you take away this handful of earth from him while he's not in Kyivan Rus, then all his strength disappears, and he's not able to stand on his feet again.

Interestingly, you can't find this information in google in public anymore. Most likely, because russians paid to erase it since they want Kyivan Rus to be russian so bad. However, in the RUSSIAN cartoons about bohatyrs, there are plenty of moments when Illya Muromets puts a handful of earth to his chest and speaks: Well, help me, Mother Wet Earth. (Ukrainian saying).

Why do I mention it? Because in Ukrainian society, when you live abroad and miss you land, and you come to a doctor because:

You can't stop losing or gaining weight

You have general weakness, fatigue

Physical activity is harder and harder to do

Insomnia

Depressive mood

Chronic iron deficiency

Alopecia

All of your lab tests are normal (except for ferritin and the vitamins D, B group), so the doctors say it's a neurological disorder/depression

You have the Illya Muromets syndrome. It's a specific type of depression that has no medications from it except for your land in any suitable form. Antidepressants can't fully help you there and will only ruin your liver. In some cases, this disease can lead to cancer or partial paralysis, but usually its manifestation is just "neurological issues". CONSTANT brain&body exercises, meetings with friends, uptake of necessary vitamins and healthy lifestyle help to avoid worsening symptoms, though.

A lot of Ukrainians are suffering from this disease these days. This syndrome is also often observed in Belaruthians and Crimean Tatars, rarely in Baltics and Jews. This disease is generally not typical for russians.

P.S. Taking the history of medicine into an account, most incurable diseases actually have a very simple solution.

[snarltoothed]

Its pathetic how you're trans exclusionary and also bisexual & agender. Do you think that if transphobia continues they're not coming for you next? You think you're safe from being called a freak or a pedophile or from being accused of invading other people's spaces? From legislation and the dominant social paradigm othering you and making your life hell? You think throwing others under the bus will save you? You're a fucking coward and I hope you get a sense of reality.

i totally forgot that you even sent this ask because guilt-tripping from random strangers really doesn’t faze me — sorry!

anyways, umm, it’s pathetic how you’re sending random feminists hate mail over something that is literally not even true! i fully include trans and nonbinary people within my feminism — just not transwomen and nonbinary males because i believe female people of any gender still face challenges, discrimination, and oppression directly related to the sex we were born as!

…which wait, before you tell me intersex people exist, i know that! but intersex disorders are medically sex-specific and binary, and in the extremely rare case that a chromosomal male was born and grew up with entirely female external genitalia (usually as a result of Sweyer syndrome), i’m fully open to nuance when it comes to their inclusion within the radical feminist movement, especially given that the trans/qu**r movement has repeatedly ignored the requests of both individual intersex people and intersex organizations to stop equating the trans and intersex experience. it’s not like they can turn to you guys for any actual understanding or compassion.

in my LGB advocacy, trans people are also not excluded based on their gender identity! the only people excluded from my LGB advocacy are heterosexuals — which yes, i’m sorry, i do live in the real world where sexuality is based on actual physical sex, so yeah… “transbians” and “gay transmascs” are generally excluded (those open to or exclusively T4T aside) on the basis that they do not experience same sex attraction. but if you’re not straight, congratulations! my LGB advocacy is also for you.

the “agender woman” in my bio is also mostly a joke, “agender” more as in “atheist” — i do not subscribe to the belief system of gender. although, if i did, that’s probably still how i would describe myself because even if i thought that innate gender identity was a thing for other people, i don’t have one. i don’t identify with femininity. i do identify with my lived experience of being female. idk how else i would explain that in your community without being scalped, lol. and it’s poking a little bit of fun at my teenage self for actually genuinely telling the more micro-label oriented of my peers that the best i could describe myself was as a “demibisexual agender girl”.

if anything, though, the people standing in my way of being freely truly agender and living as a woman are BOTH conservatives and the trans/qu**r movement, because i really don’t want to have to have an ideological argument with either of you about what the fuck my leg hair means, i don’t want to be assigned a non-woman for having body hair and not being extremely feminine by EITHER of you! you are both supporting a dominant social paradigm which others me and women like me, it’s only the way in which you shame me and make me feel like a freak that differs.

i’m fully aware how the American political parties have lumped very separate issues into the same bills and are practicing other nefarious political schemes to remove womens’, childrens’, and LBG peoples’ rights by using the decrease in public support of the trans/qu**r movement to pass bills and laws that otherwise wouldn’t be passed… because y’all keep supporting fucking pedophiles? maybe stop doing that or if you personally aren’t, tell your buddies that trans people can be horrific criminals, just like any other subset of people, because all individuals are different, and murderers and rapists and pedophiles don’t deserve public support even if they’re trans. the fact that the most vocal of the trans community keep defending and supporting convincted pedophiles, rapists, and other dangerous violent criminals simply on the basis that they are trans is a large part of WHY many of us “cis” LGB people are publicly separating ourselves from the TQ+, we know how bad that shit looks and have historically condemned the members of our own communities who have been revealed to be pedophiles and rapists. not to mention the fact that the heterosexual TQs are like, wildly homophobic.

pretending outright that trans people cannot be violent criminals is something that can and rightfully should be criticized — i would criticize the assertion that any protected minority class status makes a person immune to any sort of violent criminology, or otherwise not deserving of facing consequences for committing violent crime, especially sexual violence against children, including the minority classes i belong to. i’m certainly not against trans people recieving proper legal defense, and i believe trans people deserve the same presumption of innocence as anyone else until proven guilty in a court of law… and while i do not believe males belong in female prisons (as inmates OR staff, tbh), i do believe that prisons in general are in desperate need of reform and that that reform should be considerate of the needs of vulnerable male populations such as transwomen and gay men for safety from other men while also maintaining female-only prisons.

i don’t know what you expect me, a poor & disabled woman living in a northern democrat-controlled state, to do about the shady shit happening in Florida and elsewhere in the American south. i’m not even in a position to vote on anything that could be considered “throwing other people under the bus”. the biggest things i’ve voted for were keeping the state democratic, legalizing weed, and protecting the right to abortion. i’m sooo politically evil and throwing so many people under the bus and totally perpetuating a genocide… which i guess if you’re a conservative you could say about the fetuses, but, since you’re barking up my tree for siding with conservatives, i’m hoping that you’re at least fucking pro-choice.

I’m not trying to be mean here, but you kinda came up in my inbox being mean first… so frankly I think you’re the coward for not thinking independently and for needing to harass women who do, and I hope YOU gain some sense of reality, as well as empathy and nuance.