#and can testify to its effectiveness

[catpaku]

By the sea and stars

[momentomori24]

I can't get over how Jimmy is such mundane, natural destruction. In order to preserve Curly's reputation and escape the consequences of his actions, he purposefully crashes the ship to kill them all and they all survive the aftermath. When taking over the role of Captain and genuinely trying to keep them all alive he both intentionally and unintentionally ends up getting his crew killed, one by one. He tries to keep Anya out of his guilty conscious entirely, absolutely unable to face what he'd done to her unlike with everyone else, yet his subconscious still manages to drag his repressed feelings and the recognition of his own delusions and what he owes her to the surface despite that. His act of forcing them all into a murder-suicide with the crash was partially committed to keep Curly's name unstained by the blame of his own crimes, but when they survived he pinned the blame on Curly to preserve himself regardless. He puts Curly in the pod so that he can survive, as a final act of friendship and atonement, but there is no guarantee that Curly will make it due to Pony Express being dead and generally apathetic to the wellbeing of their workforce, potentially leaving Curly in hellish pain he'll have to endure for 20 years until he can finally die instead.

He literally just can't get anything right, no matter how hard he tries. And I think that's so brilliant.

[acatinabox]

Incoherent rambling about Antiva and organised crime

Hello, you read it a bunch of times in my disclaimers: I'm Italian. I love lore. Again, I'm not claiming Antiva as Italian, I am just analysing the lore through that lens because it's my culture. I fully recognise that Antiva is a mélange of Spanish and Italian culture, but I don't feel comfortable speaking on behalf of something that doesn't belong to me, so I only stick to what I know.

I've been hesitant to write this up because I find it really hard to express myself coherently. I have very ambiguous but also very visceral thoughts about the way Antivan lore shifted in Veilguard.

On the one hand, I think a refresh of the lore was needed. To me, the idea that one of the most popular fantasy renditions of my culture revolves around the concept that the entire nation is governed by organised crime is... unpleasant. There are so many more interesting things in Italian history, like trade guilds, maritime republics, etc. that like, did we really need that level of stereotypisation? I don't know, I think we could have done with something more tasteful or interesting.

As someone who people in real life have asked if my country was really governed by the mafia, seeing it in my fantasy game is just another reminder that that's how we're perceived abroad. Not a fan of it.

Despite this, I really enjoyed Eight Little Crows and The Wigmaker Job because of the focus on family politics, which is something that is very culturally relevant. At the same time, I was afraid it would lean more and more into the epic narrative of the mafia that has been promoted by American movies that couldn't be further from the reality of organised crime.

But I frankly don't even know what to make of what they did with Antivan lore in Veilguard.

As I said, I recognise that a revision of the lore was needed, and it's hinted at in previous installations. It doesn't come from nothing. Zevran has been cleaning up the Crows via murder for decades now. It must have had some effect. The new guard of Talons is also presented in a more idealistic and politic/trade oriented way in Eight Little Talons, but nothing of that or almost nothing makes it in the actual game. It's handwaved away.

And that doesn't sit right with me.

The previous rendition of Antivan lore was painfully stereotypical, but sadly, it was at least a merciless and raw mirror to look at. It didn't shy away from the fact that it sucked.

What we have in Veilguard is... much more painfully surface level. I don't really know what to make of it.

Nowhere it mentions reform, or a revolution. I think that's the direction they were going but there is no text about this, only subtext.

I can't really come to terms with how the topic was banalised and emptied out until it turned with something so shallow that is more an aesthetic than anything. Like as if we're cosplaying the mafia. And that is unacceptable.

Let me tell you in no unclear terms. The mafia sucks. It's not an aesthetic to be worn. It destroys my country from inside out and I have a stomach ache every time I see it glorified.

It exploits and kills innocents continuously and it poisons my country.

Some real life examples of what the mafia did:

Heading reads: strangled and thrown in the acid. It's about an 11 years old whose only "crime" was to be the child of someone who was in the mafia and testified against it to the authorities.

In 1992 the mafia blew up a highway to make sure they killed a magistrate who was fighting against it. Four people died and 23 were injured.

To this day the mafia is an accomplice of real world slavery and exploitation on top of the plague of drug and weapon trafficking and its businesses are not even a local issue anymore, but worldwide.

As you can imagine it really hurts in a visceral way to see something that still causes a lot of harm to real people being trivialised and made into an aesthetic.

And this is where my semi-coherent thoughts end.

I don't know where to go with this. I enjoyed parts of the crows arc and the more intimate family drama aspect. My rook is unapologetically a crow. I write Antivan lore tidbits because I find it fun.

I just wish we could have had that in a more sensitive or meaningful way. Something that was thematically satisfying.

[obeythebutler]

Hey, I'm glad to see you back!

I'd like to request "having a water balloon fight in their own backyard" with Leviathan, or "both waking up in the middle of the night and going on an adventure to find the perfect snack" with Belphegor please.

Whichever one you find the easiest to write. ^_^

Humans primarily sleep at night.

To recharge for the day ahead, ensure that new memories are consolidated in the brain and to rest and repair cells.

Belphegor sleeps because his sin compels him to.

Effects of such an extended sleep schedule hasn't been studied yet in demons. You think. There are simply too many books in RAD's library for you to conduct a research project, and nor have you stumbled upon any such scientific papers yet. But it is evident that all those extra hours of slumber have had a positive effect on the demon's memory. You had watched him use the RAD-issued Devildom History Textbook, 671th revised edition as a pillow before his test during second period in class. Your own two eyes can testify that he had not studied; and yet he had scored full marks.

Osmosis; he had told you with a snarky grin.

You roll around in your bed, the movement effective in stirring the demon from his sleep. Belphegor pokes out from the mountain of blankets like a cranky cat being awoken: bedhead glory and all. Gapes at you for a moment or two and groans when you stare back.

"Stop staring at me like that. You're creeping me out."

"But I can't sleep," You counter, nudging yourself closer until your forehead touches his shoulder, and you burrow further into it. "And you always are awake at random hours in the night."

You hear him sigh. Once. Twice. Then a hand stretches out to reach for the D.D.D. on the table.

"You're right," He whispers, voice heavy with sleep. "And now we're both awake together."

“What to do then?”

“I don’t want to get up.”

"Me neither."

"Mhm."

It takes three minutes for you to blurt out the words: “I’m feeling hungry for a snack though.”

"Beel might already be in the kitchen," He states, resting his head under his arm. "And Lucifer is awake at this time."

"Blegh."

"What do you want to eat?"

"Uh-"

Fifteen minutes later, you and Belphie stand in front of the establishment.

"It's closed."

Belphegor mutters with dejection at the closed sign in front of him. The always open 6/13 is closed. Under repair, the notice glued on the door states.

All that walking for nothing.

You check your D.D.D. "Let's try Uncle Demon. You and Beel often frequent it for donoughts, right?"

"Yes, but I don't want something sweet right now."

"Savoury?"

"Yes."

Belphegor rubs his eyes. "Cafe Lament has revised its working hours from 10 to 11pm to being open till 2am in the night."

"How'd you know that?"

"Beel told me."

An Ignis Owl hoots in the distance, breaking the quiet. You are reminded to look at the time. "We have," You bend down to tie your shoelaces, "Exactly twenty-five minutes before it closes."

"Shit." He says. "Better hurry."'

Countless times Lucifer has had to drag his brother downstairs to the dining table. Innumerable instances have occurred where one of the brothers had to carry Belphegor to whatever destination they were after in that moment. Many a times he fell asleep in your lap.

And now he's grabbing your hand and making a run for it.

The wind roars in your ears as you scuttle along with him. His face is determined, hair tousled by the wind, breath coming out in huffs.

You know he'll be exhausted by the end of it all, eyes droopy and breath slowed. He's so much like a cat sometimes, getting brief bursts of hyperactivity in the night, then settling down near you for a nap.

Lucifer hasn't started blowing up your D.D.D., which means the ruse of pillows arranged like two bodies sleeping has worked. Or that the demon has decided to plop down on his pile of paperwork face-first in exhaustion. Beelzebub has gone back to sleep. You'll get a snack packed for him too, hand it over in the morning.

Later, when both of your cravings have been satiated, and the clock will strike three, you and Belphegor will make it back to the house, the gates opening quietly. They're old iron gates, and usually they would screech, but the House knows the mannerisms of its inhabitants: when to be loud and when to be silent.

You know you're going to wake up late, but midnight adventures like these don't come often.

For now, you're content sleeping with your demon in the attic.

[rosigold]

The Anatomical Off-Switch: Occipital Bone Vulnerability and the Ethics of Precision - Adam Lanza Pose

What happens when anatomical ignorance replaces precision in life-or-death situations? In areas that rely on the weaknesses of the human body — military, forensic, or medical — the difference between accurate comprehension and rough estimate can be success or catastrophic failure. One of the most critical subjects in our discussion is the human skull, and more specifically, the anatomical composition of the occipital bone. Techniques such as the so-called 'Adam's pose', which are founded on incapacitating certain parts of the cranium in a rush, presume a level of anatomical proficiency that is often underestimated. The implications are huge: a misunderstanding of human skull anatomy, particularly the location and vulnerability of the brainstem, can render such techniques useless or even fatal in unforeseen ways. This essay explores why anatomical accuracy, especially regarding the occipital bone and recumbent brainstem below, is not just important but mandatory.

Anatomy of the Skull: The Occipital Bone and Brainstem Vulnerability

The human skull, far from a passive covering for the encephalon, is an elaborately engineered architectural triumph. Its form — a mosaic of varying bone thickness, density, and morphological complexity — testifies to evolutionary precedence for protection being given to neural structures of different criticality. Of its component parts, pride of place — both anatomical and functional — goes to the occipital bone. Situated at the posteroinferior aspect of the skull, this trapezoidal bone not only forms the posterior cranial fossa but also encircles the foramen magnum, the vital opening through which the brainstem continues as the spinal cord. It is here, within this osseous crossroads, that the medulla oblongata — the cylindrical tract of autonomic and somatic neural pathways — finds its residence. The anatomical hardness of the occipital bone and the physiological criticalness of the medulla make this region a focal point for understanding the intersection of neuroanatomy and clinical vulnerability.

The occipital bone consists of four components: the squamous portion, two lateral condylar portions, and the basiocciput. Its squamous portion, while being in its external cortical layer robust, is internally thinned to accommodate the cerebellar hemispheres, while the basiocciput — a thick load-bearing plate — anchors the skull to the vertebral column via the occipital condyles. Critically, the bone density alters to balance cranial integrity and weight distribution; histological sectioning shows a gradient from compact cortical bone peripherally to cancellous trabeculae in the area of the foramen magnum. This architectural compromise nevertheless creates a biomechanical paradox: while the occipital bone is extremely effective at dispersing posteriorly applied forces, its shaping around the brainstem allows that in trauma scenarios it forms a locus minoris resistentiae (a point of least resistance).

To appreciate the dangers of occipital exposure, one must first decipher the function of the medulla as the most caudally situated segment of the brainstem. Often referred to as a biologic metronome, the medulla houses nuclei with cardiorespiratory autoregulatory functions — the dorsal respiratory group, the nucleus ambiguus, and the solitary tract nucleus — that together furnish involuntary respiration, vasomotor tone, and reflex functions such as coughing and swallowing. The pyramids contain corticospinal tracts for voluntary motor function, and the inferior olivary nuclei convey cerebellar communication. Perhaps most importantly, the medulla also integrates sensory information from cranial nerves IX (glossopharyngeal), X (vagus), and XII (hypoglossal), rendering it a foundation of both autonomic viability and somatic integrity.

Vulnerability and the 'Off-Switch' Phenomenon

Encasement of the medulla in the foramen magnum of the occipital bone — an architecture formed for spinal cord continuity, rather than impact protection — subjects it to catastrophic damage in trauma. Clinical case series of occipital impact (e.g., falls, blunt trauma) exhibit the same: Forces transmied via the thin squamous occipital bone or condylar regions result in medullary compression or shear injury, and a sudden cessation of autonomic functions. This syndrome, colloquially known as the 'off-switch' effect, manifests in the guise of acute apnea, bradycardia progressing to asystole, and loss of consciousness — an incompatible triad with ongoing life.

The biomechanics of such susceptibility are based upon fixed position of the medulla. Unlike the cerebral hemispheres, which are supported by cerebrospinal fluid buoyancy and septations of dura, the brainstem is supported by cranial nerve roots and denticulate ligaments that limit the brainstem's capacity to be displaced. Consequently, even minor osseous deformation — say, a basilar skull fracture extending into the clivus — may compress the ventral surface of the medulla, destroying the reticular activating system (RAS). The RAS, which controls wakefulness, is not functionally redundant; its permanent destruction results in coma or brainstem death, with the occipital region's fatal sensitivity.

This anatomical weakness has implications of great scope across specialities from trauma surgery to biomechanical engineering. In acute medicine, the 'occipital priority' guideline places prime importance on rapid stabilisation of neck and head to prevent secondary medullary damage — a practise validated by decreases in mortality in cases of atlanto-occipital dislocation. Neurosurgeons are confronted with moral complexities in managing irreversible brainstem damage, as medullary destruction always is subject to the determination of death under jurisdiction employing neurological criteria.

Furthermore, the vulnerability of the occipital bone has influenced protective technology. Modern helmet designs, for instance, prefer occipital reinforcement with multi-layered composites as a response to histological data that subjected the bone to comminuted fractures. Car headrests also aim to reduce hyperextension forces that can indirectly crush the foramen magnum.

Functional vs. Non-Functional Damage: Why Targeting Maers

The success of cranial interventions — clinical, tactical, or historical — depends on a fundamental anatomical fact: Neurological criticality is not uniformly distributed. The popular fallacy is that structural salience translates to functional necessity. The parietal and temporal bones, for instance, enclose the cerebrum, the locus of higher thought, sensory integration, and voluntary motor function. While injury to these regions may introduce dramatic clinical presentation — subdural haematomas, focal seizures, or aphasia — such injuries typically permit temporary survival due to bilateral organisation and functional redundancy of the cerebrum. A gunshot wound to the temporal lobe, even if potentially fatal secondary to secondary swelling or haemorrhage, may permit brainstem nuclei to be preserved, with intact autonomic function for a few minutes or hours. This creates a perilous scenario in tactical or defence contexts: an adversary with such injuries may still possess sufficient motor coordination to retaliate despite extensive cortical damage.

The target zone of the occipital bone, however, is a functional singularity. A projectile or impact force through this region risks direct injury to the medulla oblongata, which lacks the redundancy of the cerebrum. Neurophysiological shutdown in this location is not a gradual decline but an instantaneous failure of homeostatic control — an effect known as autonomic decoupling. Traditional histories of balefields, such as the correct coup de grâce techniques employed by medieval executioners targeting the occiput, or Roman gladius thrusts in the nape of the helmet, inherently accepted this dichotomy. Modern ballistic studies verify the same: kinetic energy transfer to the brainstem results in immediate loss of posture (through interference with vestibulospinal tracts) and quieting of the reticular activating system, rendering sensory-motor incapacitation absolute.

This dualism has both pragmatic and ethical dimensions. In police work, for example, reliance on parietal or temporal shots to neutralise threats offers non-lethal possibilities, leading to the potential escalation of interactions. Precise targeting of the occipital region — even though biomechanically perfect — is laden with humanitarian implications by virtue of being irreversible. Forensic pathology also makes this dichotomy more apparent: cerebral lacerations dominate homicide reports, whereas brainstem injuries are disproportionately linked to judicial or military interventions where instant lethality is maximised. The functional-non-functional distinction thus transcends anatomy, aligning with legal codes, combat ethics, and even the evolution of less-lethal technology.

Bone Structure and Ballistic Challenges: The Science of Penetration

The skull's heterogeneous structure — an admixture of dense cortical plates and spongy diploë — presents a dynamic challenge to penetrating energy. Terminal ballistics, projectile behaviour on impact, illustrates gross differences in cranial vulnerability. The 2–4 mm thick on average squamous portion of the occipital bone is very different from the 10–12 mm solid, labyrinthine petrous temporal bone. This difference is due to evolutionary demands: the petrous bone guards the cochlea and vestibular apparatus, which requires rock density, while the occipital region compromises between biped balance weight distribution and defence.

In ballistic situations, these fluctuations dictate outcomes. A 9mm parabellum bullet striking the petrous temporal bone at 90° can yaw or fragment due to the oblique slope and density gradient of the bone, truncating the depth of penetration. High-speed imaging studies demonstrate that rounds dissipate up to 60% kinetic energy on petrous fragmentation while preserving the middle cranial fossa integrity. Conversely, the occipital bone's relative thinness and perpendicular alignment to standard trajectories (e.g., rear-entry wounds) permit greater penetration. Military autopsy reports illustrate that 5.56×45mm NATO rounds impacting the occipital squama produce medulla oblongata penetration in 93% of cases versus 22% for temporal impacts — a disparity amplified by the occipital's proximity to the brainstem.

These principles hold outside the realm of ballistics. Occipital craniotomies in neurosurgery require precise burr hole placement to avoid dural sinuses, and temporal approaches require diamond-tipped drills to penetrate the petrous ridge. Even non-penetrating trauma follows this logic: occipital contrecoup injury from frontal impacts tends to crush the brainstem against the margin of the foramen magnum, whereas temporal impacts transfer energy through the zygomatic arch.

The implications for armour are profound. Modern combat helmets, such as the US Army's IHPS, employ occipital extension plates to counteract this deficiency. Vehicle ballistic glass, on the other hand, is angled to deflect rear-projectiles away from the Achilles' heel of the head. Nevertheless, material science is confronted with a paradox: More occipital armour risks compromising cervical mobility, reinforcing the age-old balancing act between protection and functionality.

Real-World Applications: Tactical, Historical, and Ethical Implications

The anatomical susceptibility of the occipital region and its shielding of the brainstem reverberate across fields, necessitating interdisciplinary analysis. In tactical environments, doctrinal overemphasis on the 'T-zone' (nasofrontal junction and orbits) or occipital targeting is commonly transmogrified into rote memorisation, divorcing technique from pathophysiological logic. Modern combat training manuals, such as the Close Quarter Combat Handbook of the British Army, encourage occipital shots in hostage rescue scenarios in order to minimise collateral risk — an approach grounded in the brainstem's 'neurological boleneck' status. Stress degradation of fine motor skills under most conditions makes operatives resort to less anatomically precise methods, such as centre-mass fire at high rate. Simulation work by Defence Science and Technology Laboratory (DSTL) discovers that only 34% of bullets that were shot in simulated states of stress actually struck targeted cranial targets, illustrating the disconnect between kinetic practise and theoretical training.

In the past, brainstem targeting fatality was exploited long before neuroanatomical maps existed. The misericorde, a medieval dagger that was employed to provide mercy strokes through the occiput, utilised the foramen magnum's exposure in combat with armour. Similarly, Edo-era Japanese kaishakunin (executioners) perfected seppuku techniques based on decapitation strikes aimed at severing the medulla, assuring instant death. These methods, though brutal, are an empirical understanding of functional neuroanatomy — a knowledge subsequently codified in 19th-century codes duello, where pistol shot to the back of the head was an honourable kill blow.

Forensically, cortical versus brainstem trauma is of enormous legal importance. A parietal gunshot wound may permit 30–90 seconds of agonal respiration, during which a victim could theoretically manipulate a crime scene or trigger defencive mechanisms. Occipital trauma leaves no such doubt: suppression of RAS activity excludes all volitional activity. This distinction has influenced criminal jurisprudence, specifically in R v. Dawes (2013), where the Court of Appeal overturned a murder conviction after forensic pathologists determined that the occipital wound to the victim could not immediately incapacitate, undermining the prosecution timeline.

Ethically, the brainstem's role as a biological kill-switch raises an accounting with the moral meaning of anatomical information. Bioethicists such as John Harris have equated medullary targeting with 'neurological euthanasia' — a mechanisation of death that bypasses higher consciousness, reducing human agency to a series of interruptible circuits. This model renders it hard to debate assisted dying, where medullary destruction could theoretically offer painless exits but could make anatomical precision normal as a tool of dehumanisation. The 2016 Lancet Commission report on Brain Death provocatively argued that irreversible brainstem damage would suffice for legal pronouncements of death, a stance opposed by disability groups who argue it undermines the sanctity of cortical personhood.

Conclusion

The Necessity of Knowing Where to Aim

To gamble on the weaknesses of the occipital bone without knowledge of its neuroanatomical stakes is to wield a blindfolded knife. The region's lethality is not merely a maer of bone density or ballistic convenience but of its evolutionary role as the final arbiter of autonomic survival. To this end, the injunction to 'know where to aim' functions outside tactical expedience — it is a metonym for the ethical burdens implicit within scientific mastery.

The vulnerability of the brainstem presents a double accounting: with the limits of human endurance and the hubris of those who would militarise its weaknesses. As the neurotechnologies spread — from directed-energy weapons systems capable of deploying non-penetrative disruption of the brainstem to AI-targeting systems — the boundary between precision and predation collapses. The 2021 UN Report on Lethal Autonomous Weapons Systems actively singled out medulla-targeting algorithms as morally troublesome, warning that 'automating the off-switch of consciousness risks divorcing lethality from accountability.'

However, this knowledge also carries redemptive possibilities. In neurosurgery, occipital craniectomies for the decompression of brainstem compression following trauma illustrate how anatomical accuracy can preserve life instead of ending it. Likewise, the development of non-invasive brainstem stimulation provides promise for conditions such as central sleep apnoea — a reflection of the double-edged nature of scientific advancement.

Lastly, the lesson of the occipital bone is a lesson of paradox: that the origin of life's most vital rhythms is both safeguarded and imperilled by a few millimetres of bone. To learn it is to balance on the razor's edge between biological imperative and existential danger — a borderland where knowledge does not merely empower but demands wisdom. As surgeon-philosopher Sherwin Nuland describes it, 'To master the body's machinery is to hold the threads of life and death; pull one, and the tapestry unravels.' Ignorance here is not merely dangerous — it is a failure of the duty to wield such power with reverence.

_

Verified Sources with Hyperlinks:

Occipital Bone Anatomy NCBI Bookshelf: [Anatomy, Head and Neck, Occipital Bone] (www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK541093/)

Skull Base Biomechanics TeachMeAnatomy: [Bones of the Skull] (teachmeanatomy.info/head/osteology/skull/)

Forensic Neuroanatomy LHSC Trauma Centre: [Basal Skull Fractures] (www.lhsc.on.ca/critical-care-trauma-centre/basal-skull-fractures)

Surgical Anatomy ScienceDirect: [Occipital Bone Overview (www.sciencedirect.com/topics/neuroscience/occipital-bone)

[walkswithmyfather]

“The Power Of Forgiveness...”

"You, Lord, are forgiving and good, abounding in love to all who call to You." [Psalm 86:5].

“Jesus made it clear that forgiveness is powerful.

He said, "If you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you" (Matthew 6:14).

Later, in answering Peter, Christ told of how often we should forgive: "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times" (18:22; see 21-35).

And on the cross, Jesus demonstrated godly forgiveness when He prayed, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing" (LUKE 23:34).

Forgiveness at its fullest can be realized when both parties move toward healing and reconciliation. And while it doesn't remove the effects of harm done or the need to be discerning in how to address painful or unhealthy relationships, it can lead to restore ones - testifying to God's love and power. Let's look for ways to "extend forgiveness" for His honour.

"Forgiving Father, please help us to reach out to those who need us to forgive them as a testimony of Your power and love." Amen!”🙏

From: “Walk with God” (FB)

[beardedmrbean]

Texas is on the verge of banning the use of nondisclosure agreements to silence sexual abuse survivors.

The ban will prevent NDAs from being used to prevent a survivor of sexual assault, aggravated sexual assault, human trafficking or child sexual abuse from disclosing their abuse to others.

It will go into effect on Sept. 1.

The proposal — known as Trey’s Law — gained support after victims of church sex abuse went public with their experiences. Texas House members voted 144-0 on Monday to give final approval to the ban, which has been spearheaded by two North Texas lawmakers.

The vote sends Senate Bill 835, authored by Sen. Angela Paxton, R-McKinney, to Texas Gov. Greg Abbott’s desk.

“I believe very strongly that this bill that we’re about to vote on is one of the, if not the strongest, bill for sexual abuse survivors and victims anywhere in this country,” Rep. Jeff Leach, R-Allen, who spearheaded the effort in the House, said on the House floor. “It’s been a collective, collaborative effort both sides of the aisle.”

House Speaker Dustin Burrows, R-Lubbock, who usually remains neutral on legislation, cast a rare vote in favor of the bill to punctuate the strong House support.

“This is a critical step forward for justice, transparency, and the protection of future victims,” Paxton said after the House vote. “For too long, powerful institutions and individuals have used NDAs as a tool to cover up abuse and silence the voices of those they’ve harmed. Trey’s Law ensures that survivors can speak their truth - and abusers and those who enable them can no longer hide behind legal loopholes.”

Robert Morris’ accuser Cindy Clemishire previously testified in support of a ban during public hearings at the Capitol. She alleged that Morris, who founded Gateway Church, offered her a settlement if she signed an NDA.

Elizabeth Carlock Phillips, sister of the bill’s namesake — Trey Carlock — also testified in support of the bill. The Highland Park resident alleged in March testimony that her brother, who died by suicide in 2019, was abused by a camp counselor and signed a settlement he called “blood money” that included a nondisclosure agreement.

“Elizabeth is an inspiration for using our trauma, tragedy and pain to make a difference in future generations!” Clemishire texted The Dallas Morning News shortly after the Sunday vote. “I am so thankful I could share my story of abuse and be the voice of other survivors to help get Trey’s Law passed!”

“I’ve never been prouder to be a Texan,” Phillips said after the vote. “I was just thinking of my brother Trey, and how grateful I am for his legacy.”

Leach carried an identical version of the bill, which passed the House unanimously in early April.

Last week, the Senate took up Paxton’s bill instead of Leach’s, meaning the legislation needed House approval once more.

“It does not matter if this is a House bill or a Senate Bill; doesn’t matter if we have to vote on it 100 times,” Leach said before Sunday’s vote. “It’s critical that we pass this legislation, and that’s what we’re about to do.”

A spokesman for Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick, who decides which bills the Senate debates, told The News last week that passing Paxton’s bill was Leach’s idea.

”Rep. Leach thought a bill with his name on it might be vetoed by the governor,” said Steven Aranyi, communications director for Patrick. He did not elaborate as to why.

Asked last week about his reaction to the Senate passing its version of the measure, Leach — visibly frustrated on the House floor after the vote — declined to comment.

Leach’s bill initially applied only to child sexual abuse cases. He then expanded it to prohibit using such NDAs to stop adult survivors of sexual assault, aggravated sexual assault or human trafficking from disclosing their abuse to others.

[lostinhistory]

The Proud Boys no longer have control over their own name.

Under a ruling by a Washington judge on Monday, the infamous far-right group was stripped of control over the trademark “Proud Boys” and was barred from selling any merchandise with either its name or its symbols without the consent of a Black church in Washington that its members vandalized. In June 2023, the church won a $2.8 million default judgment against the Proud Boys after the organization’s former leader, Enrique Tarrio, and several of his subordinates attacked it in a night of violence after a pro-Trump rally in December 2020.

The ruling by the judge, Tanya M. Jones Bosier of the Superior Court of the District of Columbia, effectively means that Proud Boys chapters across the country can no longer legally use their own name or the group’s traditional symbols without the permission of the church that was attacked, the Metropolitan African Methodist Episcopal Church.

The ruling also clears the way for the church to try to seize any money that the Proud Boys might make by selling merchandise like hats or T-shirts emblazoned with their name or with any of their familiar logos, including a black and yellow laurel wreath.

In a lengthy statement, Mr. Tarrio said the church should have its nonprofit status revoked and Judge Bosier should be impeached. “Their actions are a betrayal of justice,” he wrote, adding, “I hold in contempt any motions, judgments and orders issued against me.”

The initial judgment against the Proud Boys determined that Mr. Tarrio and other members of the group had climbed over a fence surrounding the church, which is just blocks from the White House, and burned a Black Lives Matter banner it was flying. The episode took place after a violent clash between supporters and critics of President Trump.

The church called the Proud Boys’ actions “acts of terror” in its lawsuit and said they had been meant “to intimidate the church and silence its support for racial justice.” A judge agreed, calling the Proud Boys’ conduct “hateful and overtly racist.”

When the Proud Boys failed to turn over any money, lawyers for the church sought to satisfy the judgment by seizing control of the trademarked name and by enjoining the group from “selling, transferring, disposing of or licensing” any merchandise using the words “Proud Boys” or any of the organization’s symbols.

The ruling was handed down as the Proud Boys were riding high after Mr. Trump, in one of his first official acts in his return to the White House, included Mr. Tarrio and several of his lieutenants in his sweeping act of clemency to all of the nearly 1,600 people prosecuted in connection with the attack on the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021.

Mr. Tarrio, who was serving a 22-year prison term on charges of seditious conspiracy, received a full and unconditional pardon from Mr. Trump. His four co-defendants had their own prison terms commuted to time served.

The banner-burning episode had a dramatic effect on the events of Jan. 6. It led to Mr. Tarrio’s arrest on vandalism charges as he returned to Washington on Jan. 4, 2021. As part of the case brought against him, he was kicked out of the city and was in Baltimore when his subordinates took part in the storming of the Capitol.

On the night the banner was burned, another Proud Boys leader, Jeremy Bertino, was stabbed on the street during a clash with leftist counterprotesters.

One lingering effect of that episode was that it turned the Proud Boys against the police after years of having troublingly close relationships with officers across the country. Another was that Mr. Bertino eventually became a government witness and testified against his compatriots at the trial of Mr. Tarrio and his co-defendants.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive (Daily updates!)

By DEVI SHASTRI

A regional public health department in Idaho is no longer providing COVID-19 vaccines to residents in six counties after a narrow decision by its board.

Southwest District Health appears to be the first in the nation to be restricted from giving COVID-19 vaccines. Vaccinations are an essential function of a public health department.

While policymakers in Texas banned health departments from promoting COVID vaccines and Florida’s surgeon general bucked medical consensus to recommend against the vaccine, governmental bodies across the country haven’t blocked the vaccines outright.

“I’m not aware of anything else like this,” said Adriane Casalotti, chief of government and public affairs for the National Association of County and City Health Officials. She said health departments have stopped offering the vaccine because of cost or low demand, but not based on “a judgment of the medical product itself.”

The six-county district along the Idaho-Oregon border includes three counties in the Boise metropolitan area. Demand for COVID vaccines in the health district has declined — with 1,601 given in 2021 to 64 so far in 2024. The same is true for other vaccines: Idaho has the highest childhood vaccination exemption rate in the nation, and last year, the Southwest District Health Department rushed to contain a rare measles outbreak that sickened 10.

On Oct. 22, the health department’s board voted 4-3 in favor of the ban — despite Southwest’s medical director testifying to the vaccine’s necessity.

“Our request of the board is that we would be able to carry and offer those (vaccines), recognizing that we always have these discussions of risks and benefits,” Dr. Perry Jansen said at the meeting. “This is not a blind, everybody-gets-a-shot approach. This is a thoughtful approach.”

Opposite Jansen’s plea were more than 290 public comments, many of which called for an end to vaccine mandates or taxpayer funding of the vaccines, neither of which are happening in the district. At the meeting, many people who spoke are nationally known for making the rounds to testify against COVID vaccines, including Dr. Peter McCullough, a Texas cardiologist who sells “contagion emergency kits” that include ivermectin and hydroxychloroquine — drugs that have not been approved to treat COVID-19 and can have dangerous side effects.

Board Chairman Kelly Aberasturi was familiar with many of the voices who wanted the ban, especially from earlier local protests of pandemic measures.

Aberasturi, who told The Associated Press that he’s skeptical of COVID-19 vaccines and national public health leaders, said in the meeting and in an interview with the AP that he was supportive of but “disappointed” in the board’s decision.

He said the board had overstepped the relationship between patients and their doctors — and possibly opened a door to blocking other vaccines or treatments.

Board members in favor of the decision argued people can get vaccinated elsewhere, and that providing the shots was equivalent to signing off on their safety. (Some people may be reluctant to get vaccinated or boosted because of misinformation about the shots despite evidence that they’re safe and have saved millions of lives.)

The people getting vaccinated at the health department — including people without housing, people who are homebound and those in long-term care facilities or in the immigration process — had no other options, Jansen and Aberasturi said.

“I’ve been homeless in my lifetime, so I understand how difficult it can be when you’re ... trying to get by and get ahead,” Aberasturi said. “This is where we should be stepping in and helping.

“But we have some board members who have never been there, so they don’t understand what it’s like.”

State health officials have said that they “recommend that people consider the COVID-19 vaccine.” Idaho health department spokesperson AJ McWhorter declined to comment on “public health district business,” but noted that COVID-19 vaccines are still available at community health centers for people who are uninsured.

Aberasturi said he plans to ask at the next board meeting if the health department can at least be allowed to vaccinate older patients and residents of long-term care facilities, adding that the board is supposed to be caring for the “health and well-being” of the district’s residents. “But I believe the way we went about this thing is we didn’t do that due diligence.”

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

my favorite scully moments from s4

in episode 1, she cracks encrypted messages, commenting that “you say ‘a twenty letter code’ to any scientist and they immediately think ‘protein amino acid sequence code’, which is what this turned out to be” <- and that is genius at work right there!!

skinner pulling her aside to ask “do you realize what you are promoting?” when she puts together there's a whole international smallpox conspiracy, and she cuts him off with a clear “i am a SCIENTIST, sir” <- that is right!! you tell him!!!

trying and failing to come up with a theory for how the photos in episode 4 became terrifying: “plus, the film is two years out of date” “oh” “the-the photographic chemistry could have changed” “uh-huh” “the-the dyes fade… they… alright, that’s your theory?” (had me absolutely giggling)

we also learn in episode 4 that she took german in college <3

in episode 6, she spends a great deal of time explaining the science behind sleeping pills and their controversial effects

(and i also loved her fury that such an advanced facility was being used for plastic surgery rather than life-saving care)

tearing into the culture of lawlessness while testifying in episode 9; talking about how she left the medical field to protect the innocent and punish the guilty- such an excellent moment, more of that good old fashioned scully righteous rage combined with inherent optimism- and her continuing to read her statement despite the council repeatedly cutting her off (as she should!)

choosing to be jailed rather than reveal where mulder was located, because she will do the right thing no matter the consequences (and is also just a really great friend)

((and bonus points for skinner checking up on her: “you holding up alright?” “i’ve got plenty to read”, she says, as she flips through medical texts))

“it is my natural inclination to believe they are acting in the best interest of the truth… but i am not inclined to follow my own judgment in this case” (casting aside her own optimism in the face of such corruption, understanding her personal bias and objectively putting it to the side… i admire her ability to do so)

((but still. after all she has been through, it is natural for her to believe that the government means well. it's incredible))

this exchange from episode 12: “where could he hide an adult body where it wouldn’t be found?” “i’ll show you” (cut to them sorting through the medical waste, mulder looking horrified as she casually says she needs his longer arms to sift through the body parts)

((but isn't it just great that she knew the answer to that question instantly?))

in episode 12, when she realizes that leonard betts trying to kill her means she has cancer, she responds to mulder saying she should be proud of stopping him with a quiet “i just want to go home”

(we get another "i'm going home" moment in episode 22, after their confrontation in the hallway about her fears, and the exhaustion contained in those few words could make me weep)

in episode 14, she writes letters saying goodbye to mulder, trying to convince him her inevitable death was not his fault: “and if the darkness should have swallowed me as you read this, you must never think there was the possibility of some secret intervention, something you might have done”, she wrote, knowing how he would blame himself, trying to spare his feelings of guilt even as she knew she had so little time left

later on, her nose starts bleeding while they're making an arrest; “quit staring at me, i’m fine!”, she says in the voice of someone who is deeply not fine, her helplessness inspiring a fury that thrashes about and digs its claws into everything inch of her

how she told mulder she was going to die, but insisted to her mother that she was fine- her mother is furious she didn’t tell her she was sick, shaking in fear, giving her a kiss and a hug, and saying that she is her only daughter now as they hold each other. while she can tell mulder the truth, she can't find the words to tell her mom how bad things really are

writing in her journal that she needs to draw strength from mulder, needs someone to lean on, even though she works so hard to be entirely self-sufficient; “i need to know you’re out there if i’m ever to see through this”

(contrast this with her earlier attempts to do absolutely every single thing by herself and bask in the character growth)

((but then she REJECTS what she wrote in the journal, saying that she isn’t giving up, and she has so much to prove to herself and her family- they have the conversation in the hallway that made me cry and cheer and yell and experience every emotion in between as she realizes that she is something worth fighting for))

in episode 18, she tries her best to save pendrell, telling him that “we still haven’t celebrated my birthday, pendrell; i’m not gonna let you off the hook like this” - it's the way she spent his last moments on earth trying to make him smile that gets me so emotional

later, she's having this very tense face off with skinner until he notices she was trying to hide her nosebleed; he grabs her hand and says “i have a responsibility for the safety of the agents under my supervision, agent scully. i’m not going to put another agent’s life in jeopardy just to keep her out in the field”, and she assures him she’s okay with tears in her eyes (the way he pierced through her best attempts at a stony exterior… i'm emotional)

they visit max fenig’s trailer again and she still HATED it lmao, she says “i remember being amazed at what some people will call a home”

(and then she disses the very bare hotel room they visit in the next episode, saying “i’m not sure if ‘living’ is the word i would use to describe this space” - give her all of the blankets and throw pillows, she wants a cozy house)

((this, combined with her saying "i want to go home" when she is experiencing moments of earth-shattering grief, made me realize how important to her it is that she have a nice, comfortable, safe space for herself))

smirking at her own stupid joke in episode 19; “what was he wearing, a long black robe and carrying a scythe?”

she knows the lowest temperature a human body has ever reached and survived (70 degrees) and also uses the phrase “nuclear magnetic resident spectra”, both of which made my heart skip a few beats

“okay, so this photo that was never taken, when was it never taken?” <- SEVERELY underappreciated line!!!!

in the opening of episode 20, she starts reciting facts about babies born with extra appendages in incredible detail, and i want to know so badly why she is educated on the subject. scully, please give us the story time video

she also mentions her plans to write an article on “diminished acetylcholine production in recidivist offenders” when she goes home from work. because that is how she spends her evenings, very casual. no big deal (said with great sarcasm)

her realization in episode 22 that the killer had been switching around the rings on each victim’s fingers, based on some blurry photos (it was a very good catch!)

talking to her therapist, admitting she struggles to talk about her fears, and that mulder’s passion has been a source of strength during her sickness

(we then, very briefly, see her praying in her nightgown in her apartment, before mulder knocks on the door to ask for her medical opinion. i find that shot so compelling, especially when you contrast it with her saying in the finale that she is not ready to return to the church- it must be too personal to talk about, god must be something she wants to experience on her own at this point in her life)

((and she grapples with the revelation that everyone else who had seen the spirits had been dying, knowing what it means for herself))

the way she shoots the evil nurse in the shoulder not to kill her, but to incapacitate her… scully, your aim is legendary

fun facts with scully, episode 23 edition: dostoyevsky had waxman-geschwind syndrome!

VERY FIRMLY telling mulder that he NEEDS to get to the hospital, and when he continually refuses, instead asking to go on a road trip, she agrees... ONLY on the condition that she drives!!!!

and when his terrible trauma ketamine trip culminates in him almost shooting her and himself, she manages to talk sense into him, before she rests her entire body on him, shielding him, not letting him move, weighing him down like an anchor back to reality

(her being the one taking charge in this episode even while she feels she is losing so much of her agency in her life makes me so emotional)

when mulder interrupts her family dinner in episode 24 to go on a quest for alien answers, she reminds him that this is his goal, and not hers. when he tries to convince her, she refuses to budge- it was frustrating to watch him put her in that situation, but amazing to watch her stand her ground

(and the fact that she wasn’t able to tell him her cancer was getting much worse is also so fascinating to me- why couldn't she bear to break it to him? would saying it aloud make it real?)

and of course, her tracking down the dude that shoved her down the stairs and nearly hitting him with her car (it was deeply satisfying)

[mariacallous]

Relying on its own resources, Ukraine has just carried out what might be the most complex, elaborately planned, and cost-effective military operation of its current war with Russia. Yesterday, the Ukrainians used drones to attack, almost simultaneously, at least four Russian airfields separated by thousands of miles. Among them were two airfields just inside Russia, but the targets also included Olenya air base, above the Arctic Circle, and, remarkably, Belaya air base, in Siberia, which lies just over the border from Mongolia.

The attack showed how much audacity, ingenuity, and effectiveness the Ukrainians can bring to their own defense when Western leaders aren’t pressuring them to hold back. It also revealed the vulnerability of the large, expensive planes and other hardware treasured by major powers around the world.

Images circulating immediately after the attacks appeared to show that Russian aircraft had been hit with remarkable accuracy at some of their most vulnerable points. The Ukrainians seem to have placed relatively small drone swarms in cavities built into the top of trailer trucks. Then, when the trucks were close to the targets, the trailer roofs opened up, and the swarms of drones flew out, surprising and overwhelming Russian defenses. Even how the drones themselves were operated represents something notable. In many cases, they seem to have been flying courses preprogrammed via the open-source software ArduPilot, which has proved effective in navigating unmanned aerial vehicles for hundreds of miles and precisely reaching targets.

Although details remain limited, the operation testifies to how rapidly drone technology is evolving. Human operators might well have been observing some of yesterday’s flights and been in a position to take control if necessary, but some of the vehicles may have operated outside of human authority, flying preprogrammed courses. Ukrainian officials have said that some of the drones were basically AI-trained to recognize the most vulnerable parts of Russian aircraft and automatically home in on those areas.

The Ukrainians have claimed that more than 40 advanced Russian aircraft were hit and that at least 13 were destroyed. How much of the damage is reparable is not yet clear. Kyiv boasted of destroying more than a third of Russia’s large Tu-95 bombers, which have been a primary launch system for the large volleys of missiles that regularly strike Ukrainian cities. The Tu-95s are literally irreplaceable: Russia has no production facilities making more of these aircraft, and it has not yet designed a successor to the model. Yesterday’s attack also appears to have damaged a large number of Tu-22 M3 bombers and probably one A-50 command aircraft, the Russian equivalent of a U.S.-made airborne warning and control aircraft. The total cost of Russian losses likely runs into several billion dollars.

In contrast, the cost of one of the Ukrainian drones used in yesterday’s attack has been estimated at about $1,200—so that even if the airfields were attacked with 100 drones each (a seemingly high estimate), the total cost of the drones used would have been less than $1 million. I struggle to think of a recent military operation where one side suffered so much damage at so little cost to the other.

In one sense, the Ukrainian attack represents a culmination of what we have seen happen since Russia launched its full-scale invasion in 2022: Seemingly outmatched by Russia’s much larger military, Ukraine has used drones and other improvised equipment to destroy tanks, large warships, bombers, and other large legacy systems. Military planners and many outside commentators have been too slow to acknowledge the significance of Ukraine’s defensive tactics, but the most recent attacks plainly show the need for major changes in how all militaries are constructed and trained.

For the United States and other major Western militaries, Ukraine’s use of trucks parked outside secure areas near military sites will pose uncomfortable questions. How closely do they—or can they—monitor all the truck traffic that streams past their bases? Do they know what happens in every nearby property from which an adversary could hide drone swarms and then launch them with no warning? For many years now, for instance, Chinese interests have been buying large amounts of farmland right next to important U.S. military bases. They could be growing soybeans, but they could also be staging grounds for drone swarms that would make the Ukrainian attacks look minuscule.

Meanwhile, in Europe, military bases have in the past few years been regularly overflown by a large number of unknown drones, which are presumably gathering intelligence. Whichever power is responsible obviously has the ability to deploy a larger number of drones in kinetic attacks. The Ukrainians are showing U.S. and European militaries that better security against drone flights is long overdue.

For Ukraine’s doubters, these attacks should lead to a period of quiet reflection. President Donald Trump has insisted that Ukraine has “no cards.” The New York Times editorial board recently implied that Ukraine is unlikely to produce a military breakthrough that can change the basic course of the war. But pessimism about Ukraine’s capabilities is ahistorical and wrongheaded.

For three years, the Biden administration simultaneously supported Ukraine and discouraged major attacks on Russian soil, for fear of provoking Vladimir Putin too much. That constraint no longer exists, now that Trump has written off Ukraine and appears eager to end the war on Putin’s terms.

Until now, Ukraine has had only a limited ability to launch attacks as ambitious as the one it just executed. If Ukraine’s remaining allies help arm it properly to undertake similar operations at scale, it can still win the war.

[hyperlexichypatia]

can you comment on assisted dying

Sure, in fact, I thought I had posted about it here, but in fact, the post in question was on my Facebook page that migrated to here, so you've inspired me to c&p it here! As follows:

Beginning disclaimer: I'm going to talk a lot about death and suicide in this post.

Let's talk about the "right to die."

So, as an advocate of bodily autonomy, if an informed, uncoerced, freely consenting adult is truly certain about choosing to end their life, I don't want to stand in their way.

That said.

Here's the thing.

If you're an adult who is not under guardianship and is not being involuntarily hospitalized or institutionalized, you already, in practice, have the right to end your own life. It's fairly easy to do. Poisons and weapons are fairly attainable. I don't need to go into detail here; adults know how death works ("Unsuccessful" suicide attempts are often deliberately "unsuccessful," because many people are driven to suicide attempts by involuntary intrusive thoughts rather than intentional choice).

The only people who do not have access to the right to die are people having this choice actively constrained -- people who are institutionalized, involuntarily hospitalized, or under guardianship. If the "right to die" movement were centered on abolishing adult guardianship, institutionalization, and involuntary hospitalization, I would be its loudest proponent.

Yet, most "right to die" advocates have little or no objection to these things, which should be our first clue that this movement's goals aren't quite what they seem.

So free adults who want to end their own lives can generally already do so without too much difficulty.

This is why "right to die" advocacy is mostly about the right to choose to consent to someone else (a doctor or family member, usually) killing you.

Now, accepting -- as I do -- the philosophical premise that individuals own their own bodies, and therefore, if they freely choose to, can consent to allow someone else to take their lives, it is nonetheless extremely difficult to prove, in any given case in which this has happened, that the dead person (being dead, and unable to testify) did in fact give free, uncoerced consent prior to their death.

So it's relatively easy for free adults who truly want to end their lives to do so, and it's relatively difficult to truly be certain that someone who consented to be killed by someone else was giving fully uncoerced consent.

In light of this, what's the actual effect of pushing for the "right to die" (or, more accurately, "right to be killed with prior consent")?

Well, whether or not it's the intent of the people promoting it (and I reserve the right to be cynical on that question), the effect is to normalize and naturalize the idea of death as a reasonable, desirable, and morally good solution to disability (especially the intersection of disability and poverty).

This makes the "consent" and "choice" part of the equation less necessary.

Someone murders their disabled family member? Well, we can't prove they DIDN'T consent to be killed, so, hey, reasonable doubt.

Parents murder their disabled child? Well, they consented on her behalf, so it's fine.

Need medical treatment? It's awfully expensive, have you considered death instead?

Recently, I argued with someone defending the murder of a disabled person (using the "you don't know that they DIDN'T consent" reasoning), and, when I argued that if someone really, truly wanted to end their own life, they could do it themself, the person retorted that some people choose to stay alive for religious reasons, and that's why it's okay for someone else to kill them.

Now, my first instinct was to argue that religious reasons are perfectly valid reasons for wanting to stay alive -- but note the shift in discourse that would accept. Why do people need to justify their reasons for wanting to stay alive? Why is anyone entertaining the idea of valid or invalid reasons for staying alive? Why isn't NOT killing people the baseline default that needs no reason or justification?

What kind of dystopian hellscape forces people to provide a "good enough reason" for not wanting to die any sooner than they have to?

I've noticed that many people who are generally disability allies, some of whom are disabled themselves, seem quite stuck on understanding why organized disability advocates are generally skeptical of the "right do die" movement. After all, aren't we in favor of bodily autonomy, and freedom of choice, for all disabled people?

And yes, we are!

I, for one, fully support the right of any adult to choose to end xyr life so long as xe is making an informed, uncoerced choice.

But that's not what we're talking about here.

You cannot make a truly free, uncoerced choice to die unless you also have the freedom to choose to live.

And too many people, including other disabled people, cannot conceptualize WANTING to live with whatever they think of as "severe" disability. They simply take for granted that no one could really want to live "like that," whatever "like that" means, in their minds. "No quality of life" is a term that comes up a lot, even though there's no such thing -- everyone has SOME quality of life. No form of disability, impairment, or adaptive equipment is synonymous with a quality of life of ZERO.

If society can't fathom a "severely" disabled person with (allegedly) "no quality of life" actually WANTING to live, there is no impetus to ensure that such "severely" disabled people actually have the resources and conditions they need to live well, or even to ensure that their right to life is legally protected (which it is not, if anyone who kills them is presumed to be doing them a favor).

In fact, many "severely" disabled people DO want to continue living as long as possible -- even those who, prior to becoming disabled, said that they would not want to live under those conditions (https://kevinmd.com/2012/09/patients-deviate-advance-directives.html)

If you, as a consenting adult, want to make the informed and uncoerced choice to end your life, you should be free to do so. And for the most part, you are free to do so. You can have the right to make that choice about your own body without having it reified, on a societal, legal, cultural, medical, political, philosophical level, that death is the "correct" or "obvious" response to some forms of disability. You can exercise that choice without disparaging forms of assistive and medical equipment, or making generalizations about how "no one would want" to live "like that," or assuming, without evidence, that the killing of someone "like that" must have been asked-for or well-intentioned.

Because if you truly believe in choice, you must ensure that every disabled person has free access to the choice to live.

[dmitriene]

— racing hearts.

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «got a ride that's smoother than a limousine»

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌«can you handle the curves? can you run all the lights?»

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌«if you can, baby boy, then we can go all night»

summary: you both run into the same events every year and it always ends the same way, but tonight has changed everything tremendously. content: biker! carlos oliveira x biker! fem reader tags: comfort, teasing, slightly rude carlos, smut, nsfw, unprotected p in v, fingering, marking, pet names. author's note: had to make something spicy for the spiciest boy in the world, so here is the first work with carlos! enjoy your reading) 🏍️ (18+ warning)

The heart of the city hummed with electrified energy as the sun dipped below the horizon painting the cityscape a warm golden hue, the evening air was fresh and refreshing, it smelled of moisture from a recent rain, the heartbeat of the city throbbed in the streets, a symphony of distant conversations, car horns and rhythmic footsteps.

Neon signs adorned the facades of buildings, throwing bright splashes of color onto the sidewalks, the lights danced and flickered, creating an almost surreal atmosphere, contrasting with the gathering dusk, the reflection of these neon lights on the wet pavement created a fabulous shimmering effect that gave the surroundings a sense of magic.

As the racers and spectators began to gather, the atmosphere filled with anticipation, the city center turned into a makeshift arena where excitement and competition merged, the distant hum of revving engines echoing through the streets, punctuated by bursts of laughter, animated conversation, and the occasional burst of music from a nearby bar.

The smells of street food hung in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of wet asphalt, food vendors lined the sidewalks, offering a delicious variety of flavors to the hungry crowd, the mixture of flavors — savory, sweet and spicy — adding an extra layer of sensual richness to the evening.

Crowds began to gather, forming a colorful mosaic of faces, each exuding a unique combination of excitement, curiosity and enthusiasm, friends trading stories and laughing, their camaraderie testifying to the community that had formed around this annual event, cameras and smartphones were raised ready to capture the breathtaking moments that are about to unfold.

The city lights, now fully lit against the darkening sky, cast a warm and inviting glow that engulfed riders and spectators alike, tall buildings, each with its own history and secrets, seemed to come to life in the evening light, their architectural details highlighted by the play of shadows and illuminations.

As the last rays of the sun faded over the horizon, the city turned into a vibrant, bustling stage, the inevitable start of the race hung in the air like a charged promise, uniting everyone with a shared sense of joy, the evening took on a life of its own, a celebration of rivalry, camaraderie, and the boundless possibilities of a cityscape at dusk.

The soft thump of raindrops continued to fall from the trees from time to time, creating a soothing atmosphere, reaching the designated starting point you stopped your motorcycle, the roar of the engine subsided as you surveyed the area.

The midtown area was a mixture of old and new — historical buildings side by side with modern skyscrapers, this varied backdrop added a unique charm to the upcoming race, an urban battlefield where past and present coexisted.

Taking a moment to appreciate the atmosphere, you dismounted, the distant roar of the engines and the excited murmurs of the riders filling the air — a harmonious combination of anticipation and camaraderie, the energy was palpable, seeping into every corner of the street.

With focused determination, you set about preparing the bike for the race.

You unbuttoned your leather jacket to reveal a black jersey and fastened your helmet in place, every move deliberate, a ritual that signified your commitment to the race, you checked your tire pressures, ran your fingers over the smooth curves of your bike, and adjusted the handlebars to your liking.

Amidst the quiet focus, a group of people in the distance caught your attention, your gaze rested on Carlos Oliveira, surrounded by his friends and a few enthusiastic fans, his casual confidence and the way he effortlessly attracted attention was hard to miss.

You couldn't help but smirk, your competitive spirit was rising as you watched this scene, it seemed that wherever Carlos went, he was accompanied by magnetic energy — an energy that involved the two of you in countless races and exciting moments, with a playful gleam in your eyes, you leaned against the bike, crossed your arms and called him.

— «Carlos! So, have you finally decided to show up?» your voice was shot through with a teasing tone that matched the ongoing banter between the two of you.

Carlos turned, his smile flashing as he met your eyes — «Ah, i was wondering when you were coming, couldn't resist the temptation to compete with me, are you?»

You laughed, and an understanding spark flashed in your eyes — «You know me too well, i just wanted to make sure you didn't chicken out»

Carlos raised an eyebrow, feigning resentment — «Chicken out? Please, i was born for this»

The exchange of biting phrases was light hearted, a mixture of rivalry and mutual respect, continuing to joke, you could not help but notice the admiring glances of Carlos' fans, their presence only strengthened your determination to prove yourself on the race track, to show that you are more than just a competitor.

With a final smirk, you straightened up and gave Carlos a defiant look — «I think we'll see who comes out on top, right?»

Carlos' laughter echoed through the air as he playfully saluted you — «May the best biker win)»

As you turned your attention back to your bike, the excitement of the upcoming race surged, the midtown area transformed into a battlefield of anticipation, a place where the excitement of the competition and the race are about to collide in a symphony of speed and determination.

᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

The atmosphere of the race was electrified, charged with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, the night air was cool and refreshing, the lingering smell of rain made everything clean and invigorating, empty trails stretched ahead, their asphalt glittering in the soft light of street lamps, the city lights flickered in the distance, casting off warm and an alluring glow against the night sky.

As the riders lined up, their bikes revved with a raucous roar, the tension in the air was palpable, the energy was both intense and serene, a combination of competitive spirit and the soothing coolness after rain, a light breeze promising adventure, and the smell of damp earth mingling with the faint scent of gasoline.

The absence of other vehicles on the road added to the feeling of loneliness and intimacy, creating a space where the riders could focus solely on the excitement of the race, the distant rumble of the city and the rhythmic purr of the engines merged into a symphony of speed and anticipation, the stillness of the night was broken from time to time by the cheerful chatter between the riders, their camaraderie broke through the tense concentration.

Carlos Oliveira started his powerful motorcycle, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his heart pounding not only from adrenaline, but also from the anticipation of meeting his most ferocious rival — you, a mysterious, but in his opinion charming biker.

You, a seasoned biker with a confident air, were grinning as you straddled your sleek bike, looking up at Carlos, the playful rivalry between the two of you was no secret, your teasing jokes echoing through the air as the engines roared around you.

— «Hey Carlos! Will you be able to keep up this time, or will i have it easier with you?» you shouted with a mischievous gleam in your eyes.

Carlos chuckled, his smile matched your challenge — «Oh dear, you're going to eat my dust without even noticing it»

With a wave of the flag, the race began, engines roared across the asphalt, and you and Carlos raced past the starting line, side by side you exchanged competitive glances, the wind blew your hair, the miles flew by unnoticed as you made your way through traffic, every daring maneuver met with a response from Carlos.

As the race progressed, your closeness to each other allowed you to exchange playful lines — «Be careful, estimada, i wouldn't want you to cry when i win» teased Carlos over the roar of the engines.

You grinned as you leaned closer with your bike — «Don't be too self confident, handsome, you can just eat your words»

᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

The headlights of motorcycles pierced the darkness, creating streaks of light that painted a mesmerizing picture on the wet pavement, empty tracks allowed you to fully immerse yourself in the race, the outside world disappeared when the riders went beyond their limits.

Alternating stretches of open road and tight turns required quick reflexes and unwavering concentration, city lights served as beacons, guiding racers through turns and turns with their warm and soothing light, the coolness of the night air caressed the skin, contrasting with the warmth of the engines and adrenaline excitement.

As the riders moved forward, the rivalry and competition showed up in the way they maneuvered their bikes daring overtakes, tight corners, and skillful accelerations — yet, despite fierce competition, there was a camaraderie at the heart of racing that united their shared passion for the road.

The soft thump of raindrops still clinging to the leaves added a soothing rhythm to the symphony of the race, reminiscent of the recent downpour that had cleansed the city, the scent of petrichor mingled with the smell of burning rubber and exhaust fumes, creating a unique scent that hung in the air.

In this night race, desert tracks, distant city lights, cool weather after rain and general enthusiasm created an unforgettable atmosphere, it was a delicate balance between the serenity of the night and the unbridled energy of the race, a dance between competition and connection that played out under the gaze of the stars and the radiant cityscape.

As the race came to life, the competition became fierce, every biker took the turns with precision and determination, Carlos Oliveira and you were always shoulder to shoulder, every daring maneuver met with an equally daring response.

The city landscape unfolded wider before you, the city lights illuminated your path as you pushed your motorcycle to the limit, the applause from the audience and the distant hum of the engines was a symphony that accompanied the beating heart, the race was more than just a competition — it was a dance of skill, strategy and desire to win.

The stretch of road leading to the finish line drew closer, anticipation building in your chest, you knew it was the moment to make your move, with a burst of determination you shifted gear and accelerated, the wind rushed past as you approached Carlos.

The finish line was within sight and you could feel the power of your bike beneath you, responding to every command, with a burst of speed you rushed forward, the world blurred around you as you overtook Carlos, leaving him behind in a trail of dust and adrenaline.

The moment was surreal, a split-second triumph that resonated deep within you, the crowd's applause seemed distant as you crossed the finish line and victory sank into you, you did it — you beat Carlos Oliveira, a biker whose skill and reputation were legendary.

When you slowed down on your motorcycle, delight mixed with a sense of awe and disbelief, you proved yourself not only as a worthy opponent, but also as a person who could rise to the occasion and win, the finish line was not just a marker — it was a testament to your dedication and skill.

Carlos stopped next to you, surprise and admiration mixed in his grin — «Well, damn me, you really did it»

You laughed, still out of breath, adrenaline coursing through your veins — «I told you not to underestimate me»

Carlos shook his head, a certain admiration in his eyes — «Well, well, looks like you've got some surprises up your sleeve»

The realization that you had won, that you had surpassed Carlos Oliveira, the biker that you kind of admired and competed with for so long, filled you with a sense of accomplishment, the rivalry between you pushed you to new heights, and in that moment you felt even more deep connection with the world of racing.

᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

After an exciting race and your unexpected victory, the energy of the evening was still coursing through your veins as you found yourself alone with Carlos on the side of a remote night highway, as the race ended and the drivers dispersed, the bustling city atmosphere was left behind, giving way to the quiet solitude of the open road.

The distant lights of the city twinkled like stars on the horizon, casting a soft light on the surroundings, the cool night air wrapping you in a soothing embrace, in stark contrast to the intensity of the race, your heart was still pounding not only from the adrenaline of victory, but from the newfound intimacy between you and Carlos.

As you leaned against the bike, you caught Carlos eyes lingering on you, his usually confident demeanor seemed relaxed, a slight vulnerability hidden behind his playful appearance, the rivalry that fueled your relationship turned into something deeper, a connection that none of you could deny.

The moment stretched out, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words, and then, with a hint of a smile, Carlos approached you, his steps barely audible on the pavement, he stood exactly in front of you, his presence was soothing in the stillness of the night.

— «You surprised me there» acknowledged Carlos in a soft whisper — «I didn't expect you to beat me»

You chuckled, triumph and humility mixed in your tone — «Well, it's not always a matter of who's the fastest, right?»

Carlos nodded, his eyes did not flinch — «No, it's not»

— «And now what?» you asked, curiosity and invitation mixed in your voice.

Carlos stepped closer, his eyes did not flinch, apart from a slight smirk on his lips — «So, shall we celebrate your victory?»

The moonlight cast a soft glow as he closed the distance, gently tilting your chin to meet his gaze, the world around you seemingly vanishing as you looked into his bottomless brown eyes.

The tension between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that pulled you closer, his lips met yours sharply in a slow, gentle kiss, a careful exploration of the emotions that were building up beneath the surface, the touch was soft, unhurried, evidence of the vulnerability you both shared in that moment.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you seemed to disappear even deeper, the sound of passing cars and the distant rumble of the highway became a distant echo drowned out by the racing heartbeat, your fingers found their way to the collar of his jacket, the skin went cold from your touch as you pulled him closer, forcing him to spread his arms at your sides and pinch him near the bike.

Bending down, Carlos's lips touched the sensitive skin of your neck, his hot breath touches your ear, the stubble on his chin adds roughness to caresses, contrasting with the softness of his touch, his kisses are hungry and filled with desire, each of which leaves a trace of heat.

His hands roam your body in the most possessive way, squeezing your hips and pulling you closer to him, the roar of the motorcycle engine serving as the backdrop to the passionate encounter, heightening the intensity of the moment.

Carlos's lips find their way to your collarbone leaving a path of hot kisses on your skin, his touch is possessive, his hunger shows in every movement, the world around you is lost as you both penetrate the tension of the moment, the only sounds are the roar of the engine and the sighs of pleasure that escape from your lips.

Carlos' lips curve into a predatory smile as he hears your sigh of pleasure, the sound of your voice laced with desire only fuels his own arousal, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his touch becoming even more possessive.

He runs his lips along the curve of your neck, leaving behind a trail of hot kisses, his voice, rough and filled with lust, touches your ear.

— «Just like that, estimada» he mutters, his hot breath against your skin — «Let go and yield to me»

His fingers dig into your thighs, his touch borders on slight lustful pain, he enjoys the feeling of your body reacting to his dominance, your moans and sighs, which drive him even more into a state of arousal.

His lips sink to your collarbone, his teeth lightly touch your skin as he marks you as his own, his movements become more insistent, his desire for you consumes his every thought.

— «C-carlos, w-what if someone will see us?» you mumble confusedly and slightly unsure, although you have long felt a throb between your legs

Suddenly, Carlos's grip on your thighs tightens as he hears your concern, he pauses for a moment, his gaze meeting yours, the urgency in his touch subsides a bit as he considers your words.

His voice, filled with a mixture of lust and confidence, reaches your ears.

— «Don't worry, querida» he mutters in a low and rough voice — «No one will see us here, this road is deserted, and i am sure of it»

Carlos's hand, resting on the fly of your jeans, moves purposefully, his fingers deftly unbuttoning it, slowly lowering them down, revealing a teasing glimpse of your skin underneath.

He leans in, his lips touching the shell of your ear, his voice like a whisper.

— «I want you» he exhales, his tone filled with unbridled desire — «And i will not deny myself the pleasure of having you wherever we are»

His words are a mixture of domination and need, his actions are unwavering, he knows the risks involved, but the intensity of the moment outweighs any fears.

Carlos's fingers slide under the fabric of your jeans, his touch kindles a fire within you, his movements are deliberate, his touches are firm and skillful as he explores the depths of your desire.

His touch on your clothed clit brings out a low growl of arousal from deep within his chest, the feel of your body responding to his touch fueling his desire even more.

He continues to explore, his fingers tracing tantalizing patterns on the underpants that separate him from your most intimate parts, each touch precise and deliberate, designed to give you maximum pleasure.

His voice, filled with a mixture of dominance and desire, reaches your ears in a low, husky tone.

— «Does it feel good, sweetheart?» he mutters, his hot breath against your skin — «Tell me how much you want it»

Carlos's thumb gently presses against your clad clit, his touch teasingly close to where you crave it most, while his other hand still grips your thigh tightly, as if tying it to him.

He watches you intently, his deep brown eyes filled with a hunger that matches your own, as the anticipation of what's to come hangs heavily in the air, heightening the intensity of the moment.

— «P-please, Carlos..» you suddenly whine for yourself, fidgeting slightly in place and trying to feel more friction

Carlos's lips curve into a wicked smile as he hears your desperate plea, the sound of your whining only fueling the fire inside him further, pushing him closer to the edge of his own desire.

He lets go of your thigh, letting his hand slide under the fabric of your jeans, his fingers touching your hot body, feeling the wetness that has already accumulated between your thighs.

Carlos's touch is firm and confident as he begins to explore your most sensitive areas, his fingers dancing along your folds, teasing and testing your limits as he watches your reaction closely, his eyes filled with a mixture of domination and satisfaction.

— «You want that, don't you?» he growls, his voice oozing with arousal — «You want me to give you what you crave, cariño»

Carlos's thumb presses down on your clit, rubbing it in slow, circular motions that send waves of pleasure through your body, his other fingers go deeper, looking for the special spot that will drive you crazy.

Without warning, he plunges two fingers into your wetness, filling you completely, his pace is tireless, his movements are skillful and purposeful, he enjoys the sounds of your moans and sighs, the way your body trembles at his touch.

— «H-hmmgh! f-fuck.. pl-please, need something more.. more heavy..» you whined, throwing your head back, almost cumming from two fingers inserted inside your cunt

Carlos's eyes narrow in a mixture of amusement and satisfaction as he hears your desperate plea for more, your insatiable desire matching his own, fueling his need to please you even more.

He removes his fingers from your cunt, evoking a fleeting sense of loss, but his dominant nature demands that he give you what you crave.

Carlos's hand squeezes your waist in a quick motion and settles you comfortably on the leather seat, without hesitation he unzips his pants, releasing his hardened cock from the restrictions, he presses against your entrance teasingly, with the tip touching your wetness and folds.

— «Is that what you want?» he growls, and his voice is filled with unbridled desire — «My cock filling you completely?»

Carlos's grip on your waist tightens as he plunges into you in one swift motion, impaling you with his cock, the feeling of him filling you completely sends a wave of pleasure through your entire body.

His pace is tireless, his movements are strong and intense, each push is calculated to hit all the right points, bringing you closer to the abyss of pleasure.

— «F-fumgh! so g-good!» you moaned, arching dangerously in your spine and squeezing your legs around his waist to keep the balance, moaning uncontrollably and whining at the rolling feeling of heat in the lower abdomen.

His hand on your waist tightens as he feels you arching, your moans of pleasure fueling his own arousal, he enjoys the feel of your legs wrapping around his waist, the need for balance only reinforcing the raw connection between you.

Carlos continues his ruthless thrusts, each one penetrating deeper and affecting the most pleasant points inside your cunt, the sound of your moans and the feel of your body trembling next to him, only increase his own pleasure.

The feeling of heat in the lower abdomen is reflected in the growing pressure inside him, he feels that you are close to the edge, and intends to lead you there.

He leans in, his lips touching your ear as he speaks in a low, husky tone.

— «Come for me, f-fuckin' cum, mi encantadora» he growls, his voice filled with a mixture of authority and desire — «I want to feel how you unravel around me»

At the same time, Carlos's thrusts become even more intense, his pace relentless as he pushes you both to the limit of ecstasy.

The grip on your waist tightens as Carlos feels the clear signs of your imminent release, he feels your body tense, the walls around his cock tense, and it only pushes him closer to his own climax.

A hoarse moan escapes his lips as he feels the waves of pleasure run through your body, the feel of your muscles squeezing him tightly drives him crazy as well.

He enters you a few more times, overcoming the waves of your orgasm before he finds his own way out, with a low guttural growl he pours his cum into you, his body shuddering with the intensity of his own pleasure.

For a brief moment, the world around you disappears as you both float on waves of ecstasy, Carlos holding you tightly against him, your bodies pressing against each other as you both catch your breath.

— «I think i've found a new favorite way to spend my nights» he murmured low, leaving a smeared kiss on your temple

You laughed softly as you ran your fingers along the lines of the bike — «Who knew that rivalry could lead to this?»

Carlos leaned over in your body further, his voice was a low mutter — «Maybe there's more to us than just competing on the road, espléndido»

translate: estimada, cariño — dear / querita — darling / mi encantadora — my charming / espléndido — gorgeous.

© dmitriene - my masterlist

please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me.

reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

[neowqing]

The smell of cherries had always belonged to Mu Qing, it had been imprinted in Feng Xin's memory ever since they met.

This smell led him forward, wanting to catch Mu Qing, with an eternally detached attitude, cold and unmoving, resistant to the influence of others, he was just a fragile thing that composed itself for others.

And now, in the forest, among the trees, Feng Xin can clearly catch the smell of cherries shimmering to his left, calming him down a little, they walk evenly, separated by only 10 metres, which seems like too much distance, due to the density of the trees. Yi Mu Qing searches among them for the smell of sun, oak, and whiskey. Tired from the previous missions, Mu Qing was not able to rest, not considering it essential, he went on a mission, together with Feng Xing, to kill a ghost in the neighbouring territory, due to the geographical location of the settlement on the border of their territories, it was decided not to divide the settlement, but to make it, and the neighbouring territory - like the forest they are in now, a jointly maintained place.

Mu Qing pulls the sword from its sheath as the smell of blood permeates the air, the metallic metal settling on his body as if sticking.

The villagers' prayers testified to the disappearance of fellow villagers who went to the forest, including loggers, hunters, explorers, and children who ran to the forest to play despite their parents' warnings.

The picture before my eyes is disgusting, the mutilated bodies of the villagers, torn to pieces, bleeding and scattered on the branches, a ghost, large, with folds on its body, clumsy and horrible, sucking blood from the small severed arm of a child, bared its teeth when it sees the gods.

Mu Qing and Feng Xin do not keep in touch in the array, they have already made their tandem effective, when Feng Xin goes to the trees, pulling out the bow, putting in the arrow, and pulling the bowstring, Mu Qing moves behind the ghost, it works, and they strike, continuously and clearly, as the ghost disintegrates with a loud scream, Mu Qing exhales tiredly and then growls in displeasure, for the ghost has disintegrated into smaller ghosts, which this time take in numbers, and Mu Qing is forced to move away from the area, that is available for Feng Xin's sight and observation, taking the ghosts into a denser part where they have to face the trees as they try to injure Mu Qing, the ones that stayed put are the concern of Feng Xin, who shifts to a closer branch, shooting arrows, one after the other, he is later left alone, going down to the ground to find Mu Qing, the moon lights up Feng Xin's path, following the smell of cherries, getting closer, where the smell becomes more intense, another metallic one appears.

Feng Xin enters the clearing, it looks so pristine and fabulous in the moonlight, and the man lying in the grass and flowers is a beautiful addition to it. Feng Xin swallows hard because he can only feel his spiritual energy flowing through his meridians, he approaches, noticing a blood trail and then Mu Qing's large wound, his stomach must be torn open because a huge bloodstain has formed in its place, covered by Mu Qing's cloak. Mu Qing can sense the concern, and the acid radiating from Feng Xin.

- It's fine. - Mu Qing's voice is quiet, and soothing. - I'll just sleep, and it will be better.

Mu Qing's heart trembles at his own words, and he uses his hands to pull his cloak higher, wrapping it tighter around him as the pleasant softness of Feng Xin's cloak covers him.

- Mu Qing,- the voice is barely audible, as if it is brought by the wind, picked up in the forest, among the trees, a soft call, pleasant, velvety, a little unusual because of its softness, but definitely Feng Xin's voice. - Go home, and I will protect you. Good night.

Mu Qing winces when a drop falls on his face, is it starting to rain? He doesn't have time to develop this thought, too tired, he falls asleep under the sky, to the sound of crickets and the twinkling of stars, the moon hugging his figure.

Seconds, minutes, hours pass, and when Mu Qing wakes up, he is wrapped in gentle arms, pressed against a fragile, thin, but warm body that smells so familiar.

- Mother...

[duncandriver]

Notes on Ian Leslie’s John & Paul: a Love Story in Songs.

#3: Perspiring Geniuses

One of the things that Ian Leslie does best in John & Paul is explode myths about the Beatles' creative process. “The origin story of ‘Yesterday’ is often told as an example of divine inspiration," he writes, "because it came to McCartney in a dream. But it is also an example of what the science writer Steven Johnson calls a ‘slow hunch’: an idea that takes its time to ripen and requires a lot of work to realise.” (p. 122)

A maxim commonly attributed to Thomas Edison makes the same point: genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration. The extent to which this applied to Lennon-McCartney songwriting is important to consider if we want to understand just how they did what they did. I appreciate that revealing a magician's secrets destroys the appeal of illusion, but we're not talking about tricks that anyone can learn how to do; we're talking about how two men created some of the greatest songs of all time, not just better than those of their peers, but easily better, better by far. If their process involved chipping away at lyrics and chord progressions, trying out different arrangements and seeing what songs sounded like if they began with the chorus and jettisoned the middle eight, I want to know about it. I'm fascinated by this stuff, and I'll probably end up revering Lennon and McCartney more for their dedication to their craft.

Both Lennon and McCartney have been guilty of obfuscating and oversimplifying their composition processes, perpetuating the belief that even their most inspired songs took as much time and effort to write as they do to hear ("fiddle around in C for a while and hey, presto, you've written 'Let it Be'!). To be honest, I wish they wouldn't. If you believe that little thought or energy went into their work, it's easier to dismiss them as savants with a lot of luck and little between the ears save catchy tunes. Paul McCartney's reputation, at least, has suffered from this. Leslie’s careful consideration of how iterative and painstaking his creativity actually was demonstrates that moments of great inspiration still require a sustained perspiration that should be acknowledged and admired.

Everyone knows that ‘Yesterday’ was the only song that Paul ever dreamed, but not many know how long he spent toying with the tune, playing it to anyone who'd listen, studying their reactions, asking for their thoughts, subbing in dummy lyrics about scrambled eggs before the rights words to match his tune's melancholy mood slowly emerged. 'Yesterday' is a prime example of where music and lyrics cohere as inseparable sides of the same artistic coin. I can't hear the tune without thinking of the words, and I can't read the words without hearing the tune. Their brilliance testifies to McCartney's formidable talent, but they should impress their listener as evidence of creative muscles that had grown harder, faster, better and stronger through use, and not through sitting and waiting for the muse to strike. 'Yesterday' is so perfect that it sounds effortless, a low-hanging fruit that McCartney plucked with two idle fingers one lazy Sunday afternoon. It's the very appearance of effortlessness, though, that should tip us off about the considerable effort it took to achieve this effect.

Leslie is also bang to rights in identifying the same slow gestation and dogged pursuit of perfection as qualities vital to John Lennon’s creative process, however much he would vaunt certain songs as the children of immaculate creative conception. A case in point is ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’, clearly one of his most distinctive and ground-breaking works: “Lennon has a reputation for being a visionary artist and what we expect of a visionary is that their ideas arrive fully formed, thunderbolts from the blue. ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’ began as an odd-shaped pebble that Lennon rubbed away at patiently until it began to glint.” (p. 180) Anyone who's listened to the series of fragments that were combined, separated and re-combined over the last months of 1966 until they became the song we all know and love will agree that this is true.

Lennon and McCartney liked to give the impression that songs flowed from their guitar strings like the Mersey flows through Liverpool; it perpetuates an appealing Romantic myth of genius. The truth was at once more laboured and more accomplished than this myth. Indeed, it is their sustained creative concentration and their unerring ability to separate the wheat from the chaff that we should admire most about the Lennon-McCartney partnership.

[timhanlmacourse]

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