#do not associate with such that you do not FULLY understand or anything inappropriate for your age. it's for your safety

[sunlit-mess]

Hiii!!! So it's me again, that exasperating artist who tends to disrupt your time T^T. I don't know why but I have tons of questions to ask you but of course, it might take most of your time so I might as well just drop the necessary ones.

How do you do the shading?

Do you flip your canvas when drawing?

How did you do the shading in the darkest areas like on the neck?

Do you draw on a tablet or mouse?

When doing the lineart, do you often tend to draw it slowly and achieve those perfect lineart or do you just... Go with the flow?

Thanks in advance btw^^ you're the best! And oh yeah, I hope you're doing well in there and don't forget to stay hydrated and take a rest!

Hellooo, np! A. Shading can be found in this link.

B. Yup!

C. Just a style I got used to as depth.

D. I can do both.

E. Going with the flow! I don't draw to "perfect" anything, rather what feels right to me without stressing over drawing something.

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [15]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 14 | Fic Masterlist | Part 16

"I still don't understand why you had to creep around instead of just approaching her and introducing yourself properly," Jongho remarked, rolling his eyes as Wooyoung clicked his tongue in frustration, "Oh, come on! Can you blame me? She's so beautiful, I got nervous, alright?! I've never had to talk to her before, and I just... I panicked!"

The assistant squinted at his friend, "You do realise if the general catches wind of any of that, you'll be out of a job. Don't tell me you have a crush on our mistress..."

"And you don't?!" The private investigator squeaked, eyes widening in disbelief as Jongho shook his head, unamused, "That's inappropriate. Don't you ever suggest such a thing again."

Wooyoung kept his mouth shut, realising that his friend would be the last person interested in hearing him gush about how pretty he found you. He was fully aware that you were his employer's wife and therefore off-limits. Still, it wouldn't hurt to indulge in the innocent fantasy of being a secret admirer.

Besides, he still valued his life, and it wasn't as if he was actually in love with you or anything. Deep down, humans are all visual animals, and he found his tiny crush on you completely justifiable.

Turning serious, Jongho inquired, "So, what did the mistress need help with? She's been secluded in the study ever since Prince Yeosang's departure and hadn't spoken to any of us until you showed up. Something must have happened."

With a smug nod, Wooyoung responded, "Ah, it seems I already know more than you. How does that feel, senior assistant Choi?" His grin disappeared when the younger man did not react as expected, only staring him down intimidatingly, as if daring him to continue with his playful shenanigans, "Ugh, fine, sheesh. The fourth prince invited her to his birthday banquet happening next week. She's really anxious since it's her first royal event and without General Park. She wants guidance on dealing with the royals."

Head shooting up at the revelation, the assistant knitted his brows together in concern, "The fourth prince... invited her to his birthday banquet? Did he say why?"

The private investigator shrugged, a hint of nonchalance in his tone, "He mentioned that since General Park is away, he hoped Lady Park could represent him this year."

A troubled expression clouded Jongho's features as he processed the information, his mind racing with possible implications. The idea of His Highness extending such an invitation seemed out of the ordinary, sparking unease within him.

Noticing the younger man's troubled demeanour, Wooyoung nudged him on the shoulder, concern evident in his voice, "Why do you look so bothered, man? What's on your mind?"

Jongho's stomach churned as he mulled over his thoughts, his voice tinged with apprehension as he responded, "I wouldn't have been surprised if it had been any of the other princes. But Prince Yeosang? He hasn't hosted a single birthday banquet in years. And besides, his connection with the general is minimal at best. So... what do you think he wants with our mistress?"

That revelation made the private investigator sit up straight, suddenly grasping the complexity of the situation. If what his friend said held true, it meant the fourth prince was plotting something. A surge of protectiveness for you washed over him, wanting to ensure your safety and not let his role model down.

Turning to the assistant, he asked, "Damn, I don't like the sound of that. So what's our move? Should we warn her?"

Jongho shook his head adamantly, "Absolutely not. She'd panic, and that's the last thing we need. I'll fetch the dressmaker; he's one of the general's closest friends, and along with Physician Jung's help, we'll try to figure this out."

"Oh, one more thing!" Wooyoung interjected, grabbing the younger man's attention, "Lady Park did mention that it would be great if she could somehow get in touch with Royal Secretary Choi. It seems she believes he's the only one who can offer helpful advice for navigating the royal event."

Pondering this information quietly, the assistant nodded, "Fortunately, I've corresponded with him on behalf of the general several times. I should be able to reach him easily."

Jongho furrowed his brows, noticing the unsettled expression on the investigator's face, "What's bothering you now?"

Wooyoung sighed, his expression clouded with uncertainty, "The lady also expressed her doubts about whether the royal secretary would even consider helping her. She's unsure if someone as busy as him would take the time to assist her."

Shaking his head, the assistant offered reassurance, "Don't worry. Royal Secretary Choi is genuinely one of the kindest people you'll ever meet. He shares a friendship with the general and will certainly lend a hand to our mistress if she needs it."

That would soon be clear to them all when San arrived to grace everyone in the general's estate with his presence in just a few days, leaving Hongjoong, Yunho, and Wooyoung in awe as they watched the handsome man with an exceptionally fit physique—perhaps a little too fit to be a mere secretary—walk past the three of them, who were sitting in the living hall, with a respectful nod and courteous smile.

Jongho exchanged knowing glances with them as he ushered the royal secretary into the estate and towards the study, where you awaited his guidance with your studies.

"Am I the only one who thinks that guy seems more suited for the battlefield than the royal office?" Wooyoung quipped, prompting a reluctant nod from Hongjoong. For some inexplicable reason, he found the private investigator mildly annoying, almost like a younger brother, "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right about that. He does give off that vibe."

Yunho, known for his wisdom and maturity, offered a shrug in response, "We shouldn't judge someone solely by their appearance. Perhaps the royal secretary excels in matters of intelligence rather than physical strength."

Rolling his eyes, the dressmaker fired back, "Obviously, we're just joking. Lighten up a little, Yunho, or you'll never find a wife with that boring ass attitude."

The physician pursed his lips at the jab, while Wooyoung watched with amusement as the banter between the two friends unfolded, "Says you? You're older and still single. Perhaps the problem lies closer to home."

Hongjoong scoffed in disbelief and placed his hands on his hips, "Excuse you, I'll have you know there are plenty of women vying for my attention every day. It's not my fault I have standards."

"I could say the same." Yunho retorted.

Before the banter could escalate, Jongho intervened with a heavy sigh, "I leave for a minute, and you're already arguing. How is it that all of you are older than me?"

"I agree, assistant Choi. Their behaviour was rather immature," The investigator remarked, feigning innocence when the doctor raised an eyebrow, "You're the one who instigated the whole thing."

Just as Wooyoung opened his mouth to defend himself, the assistant rubbed his temple wearily, "Oh my god, enough. Let's not forget why we're here today—to figure out the intentions of Prince Yeosang regarding our mistress."

"Is that the purpose of this gathering?" Eunsook queried as she appeared by the entrance of the living hall.

The four nodded in confirmation, and the head maid sighed before joining them, "If that's the case, I believe I may be of help. I was with the mistress in the palace on the day the master discovered he had to depart for war. Something happened with the prince while we awaited the general's return from his emergency meeting."

As she recounted the incident at the cherry blossom garden, a dawning realisation settled over all of them. Suddenly, it all clicked into place: why Yeosang, known for despising his own birthday due to its reminders of his painful existence, was now planning a celebration and extending an invitation to Lady Park, of all people. It was clear to the group that the prince had set his sights on the general's wife, and this elaborate scheme was likely his attempt to lure you away from Seonghwa.

"I understand we're all concerned about what His Highness might attempt to win over our mistress, but I believe we should have a little faith in her. Her devotion to General Park is undeniable. I don't think she would easily forsake him after all he's done for her." The physician suggested, hoping to ease the tension in the room.

As the others visibly relaxed with the reminder, the dressmaker appeared to be the only one still troubled, "Yeah, about that..." The dread in the room heightened at Hongjoong's uneasy expression.

"What is it?" Jongho inquired cautiously.

With a frustrated expression, the eldest man among them ran a hand through his hair before recounting the recent encounter with Jinjoo, your stepsister, and the doubts you were starting to entertain about your husband, "I'm sorry, it's all my fault."

The elderly woman's stomach sank at the revelation, but she shook her head to reassure the dressmaker, "No, Hongjoong, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known her stepsister would be there. No matter how much we deny it, the truth has a way of surfacing. We can't hide it from her forever."

The others nodded in agreement, though filled with worry at the implications. They knew Eunsook was right. Eventually, you would likely discover the truth. They just hadn't expected it to happen so soon, especially with Seonghwa away at war. The thought of you being possibly swayed by the fourth prince's charms sent shivers down all their spines.

Well shit, that's not good at all.

"San, you're an absolute lifesaver. Thank you so much." You expressed with gratitude after the lengthy crash course he had just given you on dealing with royal figures when attending such events, offering a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Returning the smile, the royal secretary noticed the fatigue and stress evident in your expression. He sensed there was more to your distress than just the fourth prince's sudden invitation to his birthday banquet. Perhaps his close relationship with his elder sister had sharpened his perception of women's emotions.

Observing your troubled expression, San gently inquired, "Are you feeling quite alright, Lady Park? If you're worried about the general, I can assure you that he is being partnered with only the best military strategist in all of Joseon. They have yet to lose a single battle thus far, I'm sure this time would be no different."

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you at his words. On one hand, you appreciated his attempt to ease your worries about your husband's safety. On the other hand, a nagging curiosity gnawed at your mind, Jinjoo's words still lingering, urging you to delve deeper into the mysteries surrounding your family's punishments.

San's position as the royal secretary and his close friendship with the general made him an ideal source of information. Surely, he would know the intricate details of the case and could provide you with the answers you sought. However, the thought of uncovering the full truth filled you with trepidation.

What if reality's more than you could bear?

You wrestled with your inner turmoil, unsure of whether to broach the subject with Royal Secretary Choi. Part of you yearned for closure, to finally understand the events that took place without your knowledge. Yet, another part hesitated, fearing the potential consequences of unearthing Seonghwa's carefully buried secrets.

As you glanced at San, who was patiently awaiting your response, you grappled with your decision. Would you dare to confront the shadows of your fears, or would you continue to dwell in uncertainty, afraid of what truths lay beneath?

To hell with it.

Taking a deep breath, you responded, "Thank you for your reassurance regarding my husband's capabilities. However, that's not precisely what's weighing on my mind..."

He arched a curious eyebrow, intrigued by what other concerns could possibly be bothering you besides Seonghwa's safety, "I'm all ears, my lady." He offered, inviting you to share your thoughts.

Lowering your head, you recounted your recent encounter with your stepsister and the unsettling doubts it had stirred within you. Then, with a hesitant tone, you inquired, "May I seek clarification from you regarding my husband's role in the Jang family's punishments?"

San maintained a composed smile, betraying no hint of shock at your revelation. With a calm demeanour, he laced his fingers together before him, "I empathise with your concerns, Lady Park, and I want you to know that they are valid. While the details of the case are confidential, I can offer some clarity to ease your worries."

You held your breath as he continued, "The truth is, His Majesty was responsible for determining your family's physical punishments, but the general took charge of overseeing the entire process."

So, it's true.

Your heart sank at the confirmation.

"Understandably, you may find his involvement frightening. However, you need to know that this has always been the nature of his job. If you think him cruel, remember that every drop of blood shed was in service of this nation's security. He's doing what only a few have the guts to do. And in this case, it's out of love for you that he was determined to ensure that those who harmed you and your mother faced justice. My lady, can you truly fault him for that?"

His words struck you like a boulder, and you realised he might be onto something.

The royal secretary grinned as he observed your expression, knowing his words were making an impact, "Besides, you've been here long enough to witness how good he can be to those he cares about. That includes you, all the staff in this estate, as well as his loyal friends currently seated in the living hall. Surely, there must be a good reason why these people choose to remain by his side, wouldn't you agree?"

Noting your silence and contemplative expression, San understood that you needed time to digest everything. While he hoped he had made a valid point, he knew that your conflicting emotions wouldn't dissipate so easily. Nevertheless, he had done his best to encourage you to keep an open mind and speak the truth.

Ultimately, the next steps were up to you.

"As much as I'd like to stay and chat, I have another appointment scheduled in an hour, so I should probably head to my next destination." He announced, rising from his seat opposite you.

His words snapped you out of your reverie as you got up after him, "Ah, yes, of course. I can't thank you enough for everything, San."

As you escorted him towards the exit, he smiled warmly at you, "You're most welcome, Lady Park. Don't fret too much about the royal event next week. I'm sure you'll do splendidly, especially considering you've already managed to impress the fourth prince. He's not an easy royal to handle, so that's quite an achievement."

Prince Yeosang is... not easy to handle?

Before you could ask him to elaborate, the royal secretary was already boarding his carriage. With a defeated sigh, you waved at him as the vehicle began to pull away.

Heading back inside, your mind reeled from his words. His Highness had never seemed difficult around you, so you struggled to comprehend what San meant. Besides his slightly playful demeanour, you didn't find the prince hard to handle in any way.

Before you knew it, your head began to throb with the endless thoughts swirling around. Eunsook rushed over in concern when she saw you swaying, your hands pressed against your temples.

"Mistress! Are you feeling alright? Oh dear, you look exhausted," She exclaimed, her worry evident in her voice, "That's enough studying for today. Go and rest. I'll bring you dinner when it's ready."

Throughout the rest of the week, Jongho and the others couldn't bring themselves to warn you about the potential advances of the fourth prince. They noticed how visibly stressed you were, dedicating all your time to refining your ladylike etiquette and practising formal speech with the head maid. Your determination for perfection in your debut at a royal event was clear as day.

After receiving all the help you needed, you were finally ready for the banquet. Standing before the mirror, you inspected yourself, admiring the delicate red flower the dressmaker had once again helped you paint on your forehead, perfectly complementing your new hanbok, "Are you pleased with the look, Lady Park?"

You nodded enthusiastically, "Absolutely, Hongjoong. You never disappoint, and you know that."

With newfound confidence, you departed from the general's estate, accompanied by Jongho and Eunsook. Mentally reviewing the list of potential royals in attendance, you appreciated Wooyoung's efforts in the past week as he assisted you with retrieving specific books from the public library and studying the royal family tree.

The private investigator lingered near the estate's entrance after seeing you off, his jaw slightly agape. He had always found you pretty, but seeing you all dressed up and with the flower on your forehead, he was struck by your ethereal beauty. Just as he was about to entertain the thought that Seonghwa must have saved an entire country to deserve someone like you, he realised that might actually be true.

"Excuse me, Jung Wooyoung. That's not your lady to be ogling like that. Behave yourself, or I'll have to whoop your ass on behalf of the general." Hongjoong warned, rolling his eyes as the younger man pouted before sulking back inside the estate.

As your carriage approached the familiar high palace walls, Jongho and Eunsook exchanged determined glances. They had agreed to stick by your side at all times, wanting to protect you from whatever schemes Prince Yeosang might have planned for the event.

"We've arrived, mistress." The assistant announced as the carriage came to a stop.

With the head maid's assistance, you stepped down from the carriage with slightly less ease than when your husband carried you, feeling a pang in your heart as you were reminded of him. Despite your complicated feelings, you couldn't deny the longing for his presence. You hoped he was safe and well while you attended the birthday celebration of another.

Approaching the grand entrance of the hall hosting the fourth prince's birthday banquet, you noticed that the palace staff responsible for announcing guests had recognised you immediately, sparing Jongho the need to introduce you. As you reached the entrance, the staff announced in a loud voice, "Miss Jang, eldest daughter of the former Minister of Military Affairs, has arrived."

Your shock was palpable as the announcement rang out, your eyes widening and your stomach sinking at the unexpected introduction. The last thing you wanted was to be associated with your father, especially not at such a prestigious event. You had been specifically told by the prince that you were here to represent your husband. So why would they announce you like that, using your past title, when you now held a new and official one as the general's wife? The discrepancy left you feeling uneasy and out of place as you stepped into the grand hall.

What's the meaning of this, Your Highness?

« Preview of Part 16 »

"General Park! Letters for General Park!"

The messenger's urgent cry echoed through the camp, drawing attention to the main tent where Seonghwa typically conducted his affairs between battles. Bursting into the tent, the messenger gasped for breath, his eyes darting around, "Sir, may I enter?"

"Come in," A deep voice replied, but it wasn't the general's. Officer Song, the military strategist, sat alone inside, his gaze fixed on the newcomer, "General Park is uhh... preoccupied elsewhere at the moment. What brings you here, soldier?"

Handing over the stack of letters he carried, the messenger answered, "The general has received a few missives, one from his assistant and another from His Highness, the fourth prince."

Mingi's brow furrowed in confusion, "The fourth prince?"

The messenger nodded vigorously, "Yes, His Highness mentioned it's regarding an urgent matter and should be delivered to the general as soon as possible."

Officer Song nodded in acknowledgement, "I see. Leave it to me, soldier. I'll ensure it reaches him as soon as he's available."

As soon as the messenger departed, Mingi's curiosity overwhelmed him, and he unfolded the letter from Prince Yeosang. His breath hitched as he absorbed the concise yet weighty message. The prince started off by conveying gratitude for Seonghwa's service to the nation and extended well wishes, reassuring him not to worry about returning.

However, the content took a surprising turn with his final paragraph.

'Out of respect for you, I am writing to inform you that I will be proposing to Miss Jang. I believe she deserves the freedom to choose her own husband. Perhaps what she needs is someone who can remain by her side and not cause her any worry. If you truly care about her happiness, you would understand.'

Once again setting the stage for the main event HAHA sorry for the (sorta) filler chapter, but I promise there will definitely be drama in the next part.😈

Also, thank you so much for 1.3k followers! As always, thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3

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[diamondmeadow]

as a certified Middle School Teacher, do you have any further thoughts or headcanons on mwpp at that age? because honestly this is a criminally underexplored comedic goldmine.

I cannot agree more! I feel like the first four years at Hogwarts especially have such potential. For gen fics mainly, so it might not be for everyone, might seem boring, but honestly we are writing and reading about a close-knit group of four boys, and by focusing on singular ships only, we might be missing out on so much of their dynamic expansion. I still keep thinking about that snippet of yours about Sirius pyjamas. But then I'm also coming from bands fandom which in a sense is a very similar environment, just a few men closely working and interacting together, plus my favourite trope is (best) friends to lovers, so there's that too. I'm pining for this. AHAHAH Anyway, enough of my ramble, here I come with some ideas, thought I don't necessarily think they are something people haven't come up with before. To sum up the comical possibilities move from bodily humour to more cerebral one over the years with lots of awkwardness thrown in between - i imagine a lot of hilarious situation happen just by accident. - ages 11/12 - they are probably extremely random. the things boys that age let out of their mouth, their associations, are just the wildest. the pranking at this stage must have been insane. a lot of body pranking and really dumb jokes. also there was a lot and I mean A LOT of physicality between the boys themselves probably. boys that age won't stop hitting each other, touching one another in quasi-fights, but there's nothing sexual about it. the boys in my class are at it nonstop, however dangerous it is, they keep smacking each other with cushions, slippers, textbooks, with ANYTHING that comes under their hands. they wrestle and pull at each other nonstop. i fully believe the marauders dorm room was a battle ground - this was specifically prominent between james and sirius. - ages 12/13 - this is the time when most of the boys enter puberty, so all kinds of physical changes you have described start appearing. they start to be more self-conscious about the way they look. as i HC for James to be a little on the vain side, I imagine him spending progressively longer time in the bathroom which might be a source of arguments (that are quickly forgetten) between the boys, they are constantly missing breakfast or well, James is, then he's grumpy because he is hungry. also times of the self-exploration, morning wood, wet dreams, lots of embarrassing moments for everyone. i imagine Peter being on the shy side, his bed has always curtain closed. their dorm room REEKS. Sirius might be the cleanest (pureblood upbringing leftover) lots of mood swings, it's a rollercoaster. a lot of bickering over stupid things. by the time they are thirteen they are a bit more shy with the touch (minus James and Sirius, again I feel like those two would be all over each other because that's their way of showing affection, James is a hugger from home). their pranking would get better, less body pranks, more cerebral pranks. i feel like here Remus might start getting bolder with his ideas. Sirius would get progressively mouthier. bless Mcg and every teacher at Hogwarts. - ages 13/14 - peek peer pressure. whatever their friends are thinking, that's the holy word. this is the peek pranking time. oh lord, Remus would hardly try to stop them. Peter would take a lot of detention to cover up for James and Sirius. and in general, they would be breaking records in detention. they are extremely aware of their sexuality, lots of lewdness, lots of stupid, inappropriate jokes. All the girls are annoyed by them. this is the time they start smoking if they start at all. sarcasm central! the randomness of their early age disappears - this is when everyone really understand just how smart Sirius and James really are. The third year is the year they are done with their mirrors and they are working on the map. they are bold enough to come up with the Animagi idea. this is the year they are invincible. by the way their room is a MESS - a MINEFIELD. Thank god for cleaning charms.

- ages 14/15 - now this is not very different from the previous year, i just think they get a little bit more organised, especially at 15, and increasingly it's possible to have a reasonable conversation with them. i feel like Remus would be a much more polite throughout the years, with his gratefulness for the opportunity he got at Hogwarts, so the difference would be scarce, the same goes for Peter, but James and Sirius would get much better and stop talking back as much. there's more secrecy in their plans. they also start to need their own space and time. their dorm room is tidier and the curtains are often closed on every bed. but all four of them have their opinions now and much more than before these opinions differ. it's not one brain cell/pack brain anymore. there are more discussions, a bit less pranking, they start seeing their behaviour is not as great and I think this is the time when they really only give a hard time to selected few (aka Snape) and whoever doesn't sit well with them. they definitely don't stop, but before they were much less selective. it could be anyone. Anyway, this is not wildly specific, more just like an application of my observation of teenage boys. I feel like everyone could make it work in their own way depending on how they see the individual Marauder.

[vacantgodling]

#41: Erebos Verdine

The darkness that once cloaked you was stolen; in the hour of suffering and bated breath, you were stripped of what was once yours. Now you bloom bright in the darkness, dead but undead; alive but barely. To find your place in this world… you aren’t sure what that would look like—as you know its one you shouldn’t be apart of. But with this light you now wield, you will carve out your place, and what a fine chiseler you will become.

“erebos” means darkness. “verdine” means green dye.

22, agender (they/he), romance: no. sex: yes—he’s very into the idea of it but has 0 experience. preference: none; he’s cool with anything

the only pale skinned character in this wip, the reason for his oddly near paper white skin is due to the fact of an accident in his childhood in which he nearly died. only the dead in terrae are pale, and his color began to seep from him in the wake of this accident as he got closer to death. thankfully, he was revived, but the damage was already done—now anyone who doesn’t know him gives him a wide berth because to terraneans, he is essentially a walking ghost. his eyes are also extremely light grey, only one shade off from blending into his sclera, which does impede his sight in direct brightness. it’s a good thing then, that he is originally from Snake’s Canyon; however he felt too restless to stay after the accident and braved greater Terrae despite this. he has extremely curly gray hair that falls across his face and reaches his shoulders; the hair itself having an ombré effect from ashen brown at its roots to gray at its tips. he usually uses his hair to hide his eyes in direct sunlight and has become adept to seeing through his bangs. he has a smattering of stubble on his chin and the beginnings of a soul patch (also light gray) but he’s yet to let it fully grow out. he’s about 5’7” and has a lithe, slim build. he tends to wear black and dark clothes as is SC’s tradition.

a HEXER, who is able to truly take advantage of lumine’s darker expression. he carries an unnamed telus (telus weapons are magically inclined weapons) lantern staff with him, which is what he channels his curses through (the draining of ars in any regard is considered a “curse” in terrae because ars is directly associated with sentience basically). he has a weak constitution especially because the almost dying left his immune system compromised, and one good hit could fuck him up—however he makes up for it in sheer raw power thanks to his expert handling of lumine. the only character on par to him, that anyone knows of, would be jihi—but jihi uses his lumine to bend shadows and transport whereas erebos has no problem using it on others or monsters—whoever gets in his way.

erebos is a standoffish person; but mostly because people tend to judge him immediately the second they see him as either a corpse, or someone who shouldn’t be alive. he understands why people have these assumptions, hell, even his own family had these assumptions which is part of the reason he left SC in the first place, and he’s grown a thick, nonchalant skin to it. he does find it… darkly amusing in some regards—because he has to find humor in it otherwise it’s just depressing. he can occasionally make inappropriately timed dark jokes that get others to look at him sideways but it doesn’t bother him if people hate him. in some ways, it is a bit of a self fulfilling prophecy because he almost purposefully alienates other people so that they don’t have a chance to hurt him. it’s definitely part of his character arc to overcome some of this. otherwise, he can be caring—but in an off handed kind of way. usually he pretends he didn’t do something helpful just because he doesn’t know how to deal with positive attention but he slowly learns.

he’s definitely the odd one out on the contingent he’s in with jace, miki, erik, and dion—and knows that they don’t mesh well and they’re full of problems. he’d sort of prefer to not bring attention to himself while the other four are dealing with their own personal problems. he doesn’t hate them but he doesn’t really care about them either. some parts of him wishes he could just work alone and he somewhat resents that the guild won’t let him do so. he can brave the labyrinth by himself it’s totally fine! he promises! and so what if he sneaks out on his own to traverse it which is literally illegal and against the law :) dw about that :)

3 fun facts about them: growing up in SC like many (jihi most notably since he’s the only other character who grew up there), he prefers darkness to light and has pretty much permanent night vision; his eyes don’t need to adjust (or don’t take as long to) to darkness. part of his compromised immune system makes it so he cannot drink at all—even a sip can get him tipsy, so he usually avoids it. while sex positive and wanting to engage in it, he gets awkward and clammy when presented with the opportunity because he doesn’t know how to go about intimacy since most people have the “ah a corpse!!” reaction. when he tried to go to a brothel after first moving to lathsbury he just had an awkward time and hasn’t been since.

[a-beneficial-union]

Weirdly Specific But Helpful Character Building Questions by Judaspc

Character: “Mildren Aria”, [Found Vessel], <<Fou’sse>> Ren Tennyson

What’s the lie your character says the most often?

“This is normal” or “I can handle this.”

How loosely or strictly do they use the word “Friend”?

Ren is actually incredibly seclusive with this word, as with “love”. They can and will lie about it if pressed, such as if someone asks if Rook or Kevin is their friend, but in truth Ren views them as associates or colleagues more than anything else; relationships of convenience or obligation. Ren feels attachments very intensely and has long given up framing things as personal or intimate (“friend” is intimate to them) unless they have consciously decided it would last.

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

It’s almost exclusively for the audience. Ren has spent nearly the entirety of their life playing roles rather than acting as the individual. Their sincere, unfettered self is inappropriate and borderline socially incompatible. As a child, they were an overly sensitive and ‘wrongly’ aligned defective human (read: ableism); as a teen and young adult, they are a genetically edited demihuman whose neurology and physiology are drastically different from anyone around them, and the know better than to act without filter.

The only people who see Ren’s mostly genuine self are the few very close people they consider their cell (Vulp version of family), and they only ever see them as entirely themself when not fully conscious (like when half asleep) or in moments of intense passion (general overexcitement).

What’s a Hobby They Used to Have That They Miss

Ren used to enjoy video games, card collecting, skateboarding, and soccer. To explain one, these days they are too physically uncomfortable sitting still for long enough to play a game for longer than an hour (it’s understimulating and the stillness makes them restless or triggers their fatigue).

Can they cry in command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

They can barely cry when they actually need to, but are fairly good at forcing it to stop on command or talking wholly normally while doing it. So long as you don’t see their face and they get a moment to collect themself, you wouldn’t know anything was wrong at all.

What’s their favourite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

Ren quite likes horror movies, particularly psychological ones! They don’t recommend them to others because (1) aliens don’t understand human media; (2) humans try and nitpick Ren all the time; and (3) while Ren just skips past or ignores the sex scenes, they aren’t comfortable recommending these movies to anyone else because the idea makes them squeamish.

What would someone yell in the middle of a crowd to find them?

Danny would flare an ectoblast in his hand because he knows Ren can smell active ecto and it always gets their attention; Zak would yell Ren’s standard nicknames (“Ren”), Rook might say Ren’s nickname as well but in a much quieter volume, Danni flares some ecto then signs Ren’s name, Leo (ROTTMNT) would call for the formal version of Ren’s work title (“Mizz Ten”), Raven (TT) would probably flare some of her magic, and Robin would call Ren’s work title (“Tenspeed”).

How loose is their phrase “I love you”?

If the subject is another person, the usage is very tight. See also question #2.

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

Ren uses tough love all the way. If they’re comfortable with you enough to ask you to use their intimate nickname (Vulps are weird) (“Aria”) then they will also be blunt as a pillow with you. Ren has been taught a philosophy of “If someone stops trying with you, then they see you as a lost cause”. Because of this, Ren functionally demands the people in their life to be explicit and communicative with their failings (and also a bit because they have trouble licking up on the subtle things sometimes, meaning it has to be explicit when there is criticism or else they assume there is always criticism going unsaid).

Ren simultaneously is in a work environment where everyone treats them as a moronic buffoon out to cause trouble and has to constantly prove that they are even potentially knowledgeable, which means they don’t really take people’s criticism seriously.. The systemised shotgun approach to feedback has shot their ability to listen to people unless they’ve proved themselves to be good sources of commentary.

Bit of a loose-loose, honestly.

What fact do they excitedly teel people about at every opportunity?

Ren is an infodumper. They also have a hundred and one NDAs and social awareness enough to keep them from talking about most of the things in their life they’re relatively sure the other person will be okay with hearing what they have to say. But when they can talk about it, they love blabbing about the L.E. practices (umbrella term for “magic”) and the sources of their warped physiology (they can talk for hours about chupacabras and how Vulps differ from Vulpimancers).

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

Whose definition of family/friends are we using here?

Rook would ask a question he doesn’t think Ren should know the answer to (probably about mechanics or rocket science); Max would ask something about vague responsibility; Gwen would ask something about Julie or Kai (because the show made her basically just a romance character and I funnel that into her using romance as her crutch in a hectic life just as Ren uses workaholism); Argit would ask about one of Ren’s alien forms; and Zak would also ask something about Ren’s alien forms, likely to ask them to transform.

Danny would ask something seemingly innocuous, such as to drink from a cup (Ren is very specific with what kinds of cups they drink from, what beverages they consume, how, etcetera— they would probably make a face if Danny asked them to drink out of a Mystery Cup, holding it with as little skin contact as possible). (Yes, Ren has ADHD and ASD, moving on!)

Danni would probably just flare ecto without telling Ren first because Ren reacts like a cat seeing a bird to it half the time.

Robin would ask Ren to count to five on their fingers (Ren counts via knuckles rather than the whole finger).

Leo would ask Ren to explain their pronouns because Vulp-ens have a convoluted system about it (they default to “they” or “he” when in public, but that’s the easy version. It’s based off of degree of emotional intimacy to professionalism and plurality versus the individual).

Mikey would ask Ren to “Do the fang thing”, because Ren has retractable hypodermic incisors above the human set. (Ren would absolutely refuse because, Mikey is unaware of this, but it is considered highly offensive to ‘flash fangs’ at someone.

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time?

Rook likes trying to do English word play, but never learned the language instead speaks his native tongue while using a universal translator. Their two languages don’t mix well, leading to some odd mistranslations or overly literal expressions. There are a few bits of word play Rook has learned, however unsuccessfully, which the punster Ren can’t help but squawk at. Rook tries to memorize the ones that work.

Danny likes sending memes to Ren, as they are a mostly long-distance friendship, and has found a few that make Ren squeal (one particular baby animal gif) or cackle (probably a non-sequitur about textiles or somethin’).

When do they fake a smile?

Better question: when don’t they?

How do they put out a candle?

Via the lid, so as to not have to deal woth the smoke.

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

Oh boy.

When alone, Ren is never without headphones and paces near constantly— unless they’re pacing out, because chronic fatigue does that when your not constantly fighting it.

When at their dayjob with the Plumbers, they are all bravado and charm, the most Human to have ever Humaned Humanly. Heroic and boastful. (Mostly sits still when with others, begins fiddling with things in their hands when they forget themself. Has a lost of subtle stims like tensing their abdominal muscles or digging their nails into their palm).

When doing their part time job for the System (interdimensional thing), Ren code switches into full Vulp-en mode, using more <Borrowed Pulse Sign> than spoken word and taking on the mannerisms and gestures more in line with a shapeshifter among shapeshifters. (Wings are very meaningful here and an inherent flex, for instance. Forming feathers on exposed skin is a milder comment.)

With friends, to say Ren is clingy is to say that water is a dense gas. Board? Hug the human. Need to recharge the social battery? Squeeze the friend. Just needy? Burrow yourself into their very soul. Also, some sporadic pacing. Also, might fall asleep if not moving around.

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

Mostly Max, Azmuth, their parents, Gwen, and Rook, for catharsis. There are a lot of things Ren has to play along with in order to keep their life civil, but they still need a pressure valve.

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what other people notice about them?

If actively looking, Ren immediately checks to see how appropriate their form is; how human. If it’s a passive glance, Ren admires their own beauty, as they find themselves positively stunning (Ren loves themself quite a fair bit).

Other people normally notice how normal and humany Ren is, how tiny and weak-looking. Ren wears a hologram which makes them look healthy (they have chronic anemia and are always a bit sickly) and which removes any incongruities (such as the spines in their back or gills on their neck). It also makes them appear more masc in that it narrows their pelvis/hips and flattens their chest, which is a feature Ren opted in for because people (especially fellow humans) treat them differently as a girl/woman then a man. (They prefer how they actually look but don’t mind the different too much.)

Who do they love truly, 100% u conditionally?

Not their parents, cousins, or grandparents, I can say that off the bat. They feel abandoned by their cousins and used by their grandpa (Max), which is something that someone else first made them think as a way to isolate and more easily manipulate them (Eon stuff). The thing is.. it was a manipulation, but one with a fair bit of truth. Max does treat Ren more as a utility than as a person, and only a grandchild as far as his own authority goes (“respect your elders” and “don’t you want to help your family”, that sort of thing).

With Vlad, there was attachment and respect, the closest thing to ‘love’ Ren had at the time. In the present day, Ren genuinely loves Danni, Danny, Cujo, Fo’va (a Ben from a few decibels over who crashes at Ren’s apartment sometimes), and Crisp-Clover (the Ren-9 who’s taken this Ren on as a full time project because xe’s a medical professional for other Vulp-ens, and who also knew Rem beforehand— so it is a smidge conditional.

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

They get along with the people who have actively tried to kill or mutilate them (in canon), so they’d be perfectly chummy during the interaction. They’d be either internally homicidal or depersonalizing the whole time, though.

I don’t understand the question.

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

Ren disagrees with most standard central U.S. etiquette and finds it performative, but complies with nearly all of it. They especially hate the social contract that says one ought to demonstrate their skills/abilities if asked, namely the “Can you transform for me” question. They find it rude, intrusive, and presumptuous— and it is why they think so poorly of Zak from the get go. (Zak would have accepted a “No” with little pushback, but Ren views that sort of resistance against allies as potentially dangerous, since they are, in canon, commonly punished for not being subservient.)

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

Sitting. Ren has undiagnosed and unmedicated idiopathic hypersomnia, and experiences sleep attacks that can be triggered by inactivity or comfort.

They are also wary of concerts due to their volume, traveling via vehicles as they prefer their own wings, and are repulsed by most foodstuffs people enjoy (particularly pickles and mustard).

What do they feel guilty about that the other person/people don’t remember?

During their first interaction, Ren tried to bite out Danny’s throat. Ren is functionally an exotic creature who was being accidentally starved and chronically malnourished with the only alleviation being an external moderation of the sensation of hunger (an enchantment that was given to them by Vlad), which promoted a pattern of very occasional crises. Ren needs to eat magic; Danny is a halfa. Danny is only alive because Anodites can consume via physical contact, meaning that physically hurting Danny was unnecessary. Ren pinned him and nearly depleted his ecto, and that was it.

Ren doesn’t remember it, for obvious reasons, but feels guilty in the present day. Danny doesn’t blame them (as Ren was very obviously in an altered state and acting in desperation).

Ren also feels a bit guilty about Rook bearing the brunt of their spite after being abandoned by Gwen, as Ren began to internally spiral which seemed externally as though they simply didn’t like Rook or thought he was beneath them. Rook did recognize that Ren was avoiding him and (canonically) asked if Ren was angry with him, but otherwise doesn’t remember this.

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

Ren loves, loves, loves sneaking, and also free food. The kind of cookie doesn’t matter too much, so long as it doesn’t have recreational drugs in it. Ren sometimes orchestrates scenarios in which they can openly sneak, even if they already have permission to take that cookie. If they get caught, they burst into giggles or squeals. Ren can and will be incredibly dramatic about it, crouching to the ground and looking around corners (even though they can see through objects… it’s for the funsies).

What subject/topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the main plot?

Textiles, herbal dyes, rock hardiness, crop rotation, and music theory. These are past hyperfixations.

How would they respond to be fired from a good boss?

N//A

What’s the worst gift they ever received and how did they respond?

Their parents kept trying to ‘gift’ them laser hair removal and hormone therapy. They wanted her to be either a girl or a boy, but he likes herself as they are. They politely but consistently refused, growing more and more disheartened by the persistence of their parents.

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

Ren tells people they ‘want’ to be a hero; Ren ‘wants’ to be allowed to live their life without winding up discontinued or prosecuted and firmly believes that their existence is dependent on their usefulness as a tool and weapon. They used to save the day out of genuine morality; now they do it out of professional obligation and sinple practicality.

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

Ehh, there are a lot more questions than I realized. Depends on context. Ren can and will gaslight someone unless they’re a cellmate. They also have a tendency to construct half-truths or inflate the other person’s importance in a flattering way as a distraction tactic. Ren doesn’t often outright lie, valuing their trustworthiness, but isn’t above saying a misleading truth.

If what they originally said was a sincere truth, then they will probably respond to disbelief by just caving. They’re too used to people assuming they don’t know what they’re talking about to care anymore, and now just doesn’t often bother being frank with most people.

Guilt via mistakes! How does professional versus personal differ?

Ren’s job involves armadas, bombs, assassinations, war, and conquest. People get hurt. A lot of people can get hurt very quickly if Ren misjudges or even if they do everything right. Ren has empathy burnout and has been raised under the medical profession’s mentality of “People get hurt either way, at least we tried”, which is to say that they don’t especially care unless the consequences affect them personally.

(Zak’s role in Work’s in Progress was functionally to check on Ren’s functionality, which is a lot more warranted than the narrative treats it.)

With personal matters, Ren takes mistakes very seriously, especially per having RSD and fearing rejection. Ren does a lot to try and make it up to the other person, coming clean immediately and having a personal rule to tell the truth whenever possible.

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How do they greet someone they dislike/hate?

Tell (tail tip) pointed downwards, gills pressed shut, and grin as wide as their face.

How do they greet someone they like/love?

Wings raised and outspread (if present), tail raised at basal and bent with the Tell horizontal, gills gaping, spines raised, eyes wide and crinkled at the corners, smile either small or mouth open (most of their smiles are only in their eyes), and generally they will look for an invitation for physical contact (huggggssss).

They also love pressing their forehead or nose tip to the other’s, which is a human practice they were taught when very young. Danny uses this to nuzzle, because it’s fun; Danni treats it like how cartoon teens treat being told “I love you” by their parents; and Cujo tries to lick their face.

(With other Vulp-ens this has extra steps. A common intimate greeting includes tail twining at the sweep, but Ren’s is docked and is now only reaches their knees when at rest and the ground if stretched (sweeps stretch like rubber). Fo’va compromises for an adjusted twine; Crisp-Clover is a Chains Vulp, who don’t twine anyway (and so instead it’s the forehead touch and an arm twine).

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they ever made?

There is an L.E. application that can reverse injuries to a person that occurred within three day’s time, which extends to emotional injury. Ren once offered to heal Danny after ‘taking care’ of Dan for him, which had the effect of negating Danny’s moral qualms of participating in murder (technically self defense, but Danny doesn’t see it that way). He is now more accepting of Ren’s occasional mercenary work than he’d be otherwise.

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain?

Basically everyone who isn’t a cellmate.

Skip.

Skip.

Skip.

How do they respond to a loose handshake?

Mild confusion.

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone?

Ren’s main transfer is of the Midland Vulps, and they acquire the nutrition needed to support the given physiological systems from one of the main trade centers near the west coast of the Peaks geographical region. That is to say, Ren’s Vulp mannerisms are one part neurology (the reflexes and instincts) and five parts trade culture (commerce, safe harbor, etcetera— more species are met at these junctions than Ren would have ever met further down south).

When around the human public, Ren holds their tail in a manner reminiscent of earth mammals (downwards and sloped; very bad Vulp posture).

They sometimes move as if to pull the Prototool from their shoulder, mirroring Rook’s preparedness. Ren has never used the prototool.

N//A

What do they commonly misinterpret and why? Example, biases, upbringing, environment.

Ren’s natural inclination to physical intimacy and lack of sexuality (acespec) means they often come across as flirtatious, and flirtation in others is often mistaken as friendliness unless it is more explicit.

What language would be easiest for them to learn and why?

ASL; <BPS> is a close derivative, sharing the alphabet and most common words (deviating from there), meaning Ren would probably have an easy time learning the standard version.

They try learning Spanish and French but have trouble learning other spoken languages.

What’s something frivolous/unimportant that they hate passionately?

Coffee. Ren can���t have it, hates its omnipresence, and hates the expectation that they should be alert at all times because of the tired/wired culture around them.

Are they a listener or a talker?

A natural talker who listens out of discipline, respect, and practicality.

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them quite well?

They’re a celebrity and exotic creature; nearly everyone remembers them but they scarcely remember anyone else.

Who would they say “yes” to if invited to do something they abhorred?

To flip this question around, Ren is uncomfortable with most things and is more likely to say “No” to someone they care about because they trust the other person to not punish them over it. They wouldn’t be comfortable with them in the first place if trust wasn’t there, after all.

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

Yep. They find most food gross, with what food they can enjoy changing on a weekly if not hourly basis. Rook will bring Ren a snack, having seen Ren enjoy it in the past, and Ren accepts it out of politeness.

Ren is more likely to decline if offered by a trusted person.

What belief/moral/personality trait do they have that you, the writer, don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase that they say a lot?

They start most sentences with “So” and “Well”.

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Their immediate emotions aren’t trustworthy and neither are their perceptions, which is the result of sensory, processing, and emotional regulation issues. In the present day, they are often slightly delusional (in the literal sense as a result of chronic, severe sleep deprivation brought by unmedicated IDHS), thus they try their best to wait until they are reasonably certain of something.

Who would/do they believe without question?

Crisp-Clover and Cyborg.

What’s their stress response? Fight/flight/fawn?

Naturally fight, fawn by discipline, and freeze by force.

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based off of their hobbies/profession but which they hate?

Large social gatherings. Ren once volunteered to be the person dunked in water at a carnival game as a way to stay out of the crowds (partially canon).

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? How does this response change based off of the kind of fear?

If it’s an emotional matter? Danny.

If it’s a medical issue (human health)? Cyborg/Robin.

If it’s a medical issue (Vulp or Omni health)? Crisp-Clover.

If it’s a medical issue (Anodite health)? Pen 10 (check the tag).

If it’s from C-PTSD, they’d likely self-isolate. Danny might sick Cujo on them if he clues into this, or spams them with cutesy memes and images.

What’s a simple daily activity/motion that they mess up regularly?

Swallowing beverages. Ren very frequently chokes on liquids and uses straws whenever possible.

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a theme?

Most of their hobbies are about hiking, visual arts, music, or textiles— but all of these takes time and care which their life does not allow. Plus art and academics were Gwen’s thing; Ren is supposed to be the brute— meaning those in their life tend to react to these hobbies with bafflement every time they come up or are noticed.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Curse-breaker (Chapter 3/4)

- ao3 -

There were more guards than usual around the Unclean Realm, undoubtedly as a result of Wen Ruohan’s refusal to move from their gate, but that wasn’t a problem for them.

They knew all the ways in and out.

New ways, like the hole in the wall their little brother had teamed up with his best friend to carve out so that the two of them could leave little gifts and pass messages to them, and old ways, ancient ways, the ways of the dead that they’d learned from the still-lingering saber spirits that burned in rage and hate forever like an endless longevity candle.

Rage, and hated – but also love.

The saber spirits didn’t have to keep burning, keep fighting, but that was what their masters had wanted, and so they did. They fought against evil, time and time again, forever and always, and through their endless battle, in their hearts, their masters were never truly lost.

It was that simple.

It was that complicated.

It was time, they thought, to straighten things out. The saber spirits meant it as a gift, but the masters saw it as a burden; that wasn’t how it was meant to be at all – they just didn’t understand each other, steel and flesh speaking different tongues, meaning different things. The gaping chasm of understanding between life and not-life, which no one could bridge.

Well.

No one until them, anyway.

If a fish and a bird fell in love, where would they live?

On the shore, they thought. Right in the middle.

All they needed was someone to tell them that was an option.

It was time.

They passed like a formless spirit themselves through the many walls and guards in their path, heading to the sect leader’s study, as familiar to them as their own palms. Inside they found what was familiar, too: the heat-rage-pride pulse of Jiwei, resting in pride of place by her master’s side, and beside her was her master, their father, standing with his hands folded behind his back and looking out the window into the distance as if it would give him answers to questions that had eaten away at him his whole life.

They approached.

They were detected, of course.

“I already said that I didn’t want to be disturbed,” their father said, and although they had snuck close many times to hear him speaking, that beloved voice more familiar to them than their own, not daring to talk to him as they did to Huaisang who had always promised to keep their secret, there was still something different about hearing it so near, without walls between them.

They sighed happily.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said…Jiwei? What’s gotten you so excited –”

Their father turned.

His jaw dropped, eyes going wide and round as saucers, an absurd and silly look that suited him so much better than did the grim scowl and sad listlessness, interspersed with increasingly frequent bouts of uncontrollable rage, that he wore on his face more often than not these days.

What they had in mind would hurt, they knew, and equally they knew that they would not be able to act if they did not act fast – they were loathe to hurt people, much less people that they loved, and those that they loved would be equally unable to bear to see them hurt, yet both were necessary now, if they were to do what they had decided to do.

They did not allow themselves time to doubt.

They moved forward as quickly as a saber strike, sure and true, and their hands connected with their father’s chest and belly, heart and dantian both, with enough power to knock the breath out of him, taking advantage of his shock to strike when he would not even think of dodging.

In that moment of breathlessness, they latched on – latched on, and pulled.

What-are-you-doing-stop-that, Jiwei said, but even her ceaseless rage was blunted by the joy of seeing them once more.

You are hurting him.

I-am-not-I-am-refining-him-I-am-strengthening-him-as-he-strengthens-me-He-is-my-master-and-I-love-him.

You are hurting him, they insisted. Flesh is different. Flesh is brittle. Too much strength, and he will break.

Let me show you.

It hurt, of course, just as they’d expected. Not as much as when they’d shattered, though, and it was that – and perhaps only that – that allowed them to persist, using themselves as a cauldron, forcing their qi that was neither wholly spiritual nor resentful, neither fully alive or un-alive, through their father’s meridians, reshaping them as they went to be something capable of accepting the harsh, resentful, corrosive love of a saber spirit.

When they were done, their father stared at Jiwei, hearing her sing in his soul with an unprecedented clarity, feeling her love for him the way she meant for it to be felt, feeding his own love back to her in equal measure, giving everything of himself without holding back to the only thing on earth that he had ever loved without restraint.

His eyes were clear.

“A-Jue,” he whispered. “A-Jue…what is this?”

“A gift,” they said, their voice raspy with disuse. “Of many years making. I’m sorry that it took so long.”

Their father, unbreakable, burst into tears.

-

Later, when their father, his eyes still wet (though now from laughter rather than relief), told them about the ‘curse’, about his promise, about the rumors, and even about Wen Ruohan waiting for the chance to repent of his regrets, they thought about it for a while and said: “Let me see him.”

-

Wen Ruohan had done many things worthy of condemnation in his long life.

He had schemed and plotted, playing the hero and the villain both in their turn; he had fought in wars of such brutality that the current generation could not even begin to comprehend them, and he had also murdered in vile and underhanded ways, abandoning all integrity and righteousness, to ensure that such wars did not happen again. He had sought to strengthen himself by means both fair and foul, betrayed who he had to betray and stepped on who he had to step on; he had followed his ancestor’s path with his head held high until he had very nearly become a god.

He was not accustomed to regret.

Not accustomed did not mean immune: there were things he regretted, of course. The loss of his first family, the two sons and a daughter that he had failed so thoroughly that he still could not stand to hear the sound of their names, each one declared utterly taboo within the Nightless City – the wife he had married for power and then divorced in a fit of temper, driving her and her not-so-secret lover to the end of their rope in unspeakable desperation – the faithful servants he had sacrificed as pawns in his power plays and only afterwards realized how much he had relied upon them –

His brother.

His curse.

If by some miracle of fate he could choose to change a single thing in the ancient life that he had so far lived, it would unquestionably be the death of his brother.

Wen Ruohan had had quite a few brothers, in fact – his father, much like the usual style of leaders of the Wen sect, had fancied himself both empire-builder and emperor, and had had children accordingly, both his own and those he’d adopted, with all the headache-induing and often life-threatening dramatics associated with that – but to Wen Ruohan, there had only really ever been one that mattered.

Only one.

Wen Ruohan didn’t even remember any longer whether Wen Ruoyu had been his blood-related brother, sharing a father and maybe a mother, or if he’d been some child seized from another sect and given the Wen surname to help grow their power. It hadn’t mattered to him back then and it didn’t matter to him still, for all that he now prized his personal bloodline even above merit.

All that mattered was that Wen Ruohan had loved Wen Ruoyu more than he’d ever loved anything in his life, more than his sect, more than cultivation, more than power, and that Wen Ruoyu had died not knowing it. Had died cursing his name, spitting blood onto his face, fingers scrabbling at his neck in a futile attempt to choke him, wishing with his final breath that Wen Ruohan would never again know a single moment of peace.

Well, he hadn’t.

Ever the dutiful brother, he closed his eyes to nightmares, and woke to dreariness. He madly sought power enough to ensure that such a thing would never happen to him again, only for his obsessive quest to drive his few remaining loved ones into the grave; he had very nearly succeeded in becoming a god, and lost all interest in life in the process. The only joys remaining to him were his ever-growing power, his ever-expanding sect, and, sometimes, the blood and pain of other people, which he used as a reminder that he was not truly alone in this world.

And Lao Nie, of course.

Wen Ruohan had almost entirely succeeding in sealing off all of his emotions by the time Lao Nie showed up, smiling and carefree and reckless, half in love with the death he knew awaited him – showed up and battered down all of Wen Ruohan’s defenses. Wen Ruohan wished, now more than ever, that he had carried on in his attempts to make himself a true god, above all humanity, and not yielded to the siren call of friendship. Perhaps if he had been a god, he wouldn’t have been so hurt when Lao Nie barreled onwards with his life, leaving him behind not once but thrice – perhaps he wouldn’t have tried to kill him.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have nearly murdered the little boy that Lao Nie had on occasion shoved into his arms during a visit, no matter how many times Wen Ruohan reminded him that it was inappropriate – the little serious one who looked so bewildered by it all but who still called him Sect Leader Wen the way Wen Ruohan instructed rather than listening to his father’s not-quite-joking suggestions of ‘Uncle Wen’, the little crybaby that had all unknowingly once tricked Lan Qiren into a logical conundrum that had made the man’s mind splutter out like a machine falling all to bits while Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie had roared with laughter…the one that had been charming enough to make him change his mind and opt to keep little Wen Xu around instead of sending him out to be adopted into the branch families the way he had with the other children he’d refused to acknowledge, mourning as he still did his first family.

He hadn’t meant to hurt Nie Mingjue.

Not like that, anyway.

It’d taken some time for the regret to creep in – his initial bout of horror had been more shock and irritation at having hit the wrong target, the shame of making such an elementary error to hit a boy he hadn’t seen in years rather than the man standing right in front of him, and then he’d shrugged it off, thinking to himself that the loss of a son would be as good a way to punish Lao Nie as the loss of his life. It wasn’t until his spies in the Unclean Realm came back and described to him what he had wrought…

Nie Mingjue didn’t look anything like Wen Ruoyu, not really, but in Wen Ruohan’s dreams he wept tears of blood in just the same way, spitting up foam as his eyes rolled in his head, dying – dying – dead.

Not dead.

It wasn’t a curse, Wen Ruohan knew, but if there was something he could do – anything he could do – he would do it.

He had to.

“You have to let him go,” someone said, and Wen Ruohan looked up in surprise: he’d been waiting for half a day already and god or no god, his legs were numb with sitting.

He didn’t recognize the too-tall young man who stared down at him, one eyeball eerily colored red and steel grey – the young man’s clothing was non-descript and ill-fitting, mismatched as if he’d picked it off some laundry pile without thought of coordination. There was something of the Nie in his face, the breadth of his shoulders, but his features were finer and sharper, his waist more slender, his fingers lacking in the familiar calluses of the saber; he looked like he’d be a fierce war god when he’d grown into his body but that he hadn’t quite gotten there yet.

His golden core shone.

Wen Ruohan stared. His lust for power had long ago become an essential part of him, and in front of him was power, power at such a young age – if he could claim that cultivation for his own, maybe he could stop describing himself as nearly a god, could actually call down a heavenly tribulation and leap up to join the heavens in a single bound.

And then, maybe then, at last, he could have peace.

“You have to let him go,” the young man said a second time, and Wen Ruohan was distracted by wondering what he meant, not sure he understood and not entirely sure he cared. “That’s the only way. You have to let him go.”

He shifted forward, and something inside Wen Ruohan warned that he would strike.

It seemed ridiculous, though. Wen Ruohan, the finest living master of arrays, was not afraid of anything this young man might try to do – only a spiritual sword could pierce his armor, and even that, only one that took him utterly by surprise. No one would dare try to strike him.

Especially not this young man, who carried neither sword or saber.

Perhaps that was why Wen Ruohan never saw it coming – the young man’s hand moved in a jabbing motion, the way a sword would swing, and suddenly, impossibly, there was sword intent given physical form through spiritual energy, piecing through his defenses, slashing down at him and aiming right at his neck.

-

“Let me get this straight,” Lan Qiren said, rubbing his forehead. “Nie Mingjue reappeared after something like ten years out alone in the wild, and when he did he brought some sort of technique that just…fixed the Nie sect cultivation issue. The one that was killing you, and has been killing your ancestors for – generations.”

Lao Nie nodded.

“And then you allowed him to see Sect Leader Wen, who he attacked…in a way that happened to mimic some old tragedy that has apparently haunted him for years, thereby allowing him to resolve some long-held heart demon. And now Sect Leader Wen has retreated into seclusion in order to explore this moment of enlightenment further, and doesn’t intend to bother the rest of us for a while. Certainly not by continuing his schemes to take over the cultivation world.”

“That’s right,” Lao Nie said. “Though I don’t expect he’ll be in seclusion all that long; the Wen sect doesn’t practice –”

Lan Qiren held up a hand, indicating he wasn’t done and didn’t appreciate being interrupted.

Lao Nie obediently fell silent.

“And then,” and by now Lan Qiren was speaking through somewhat gritted teeth, “when Sect Leader Jin rushed over because he wanted to get in on what he perceived to be Wen Ruohan’s attempted takeover of the Qinghe Nie, your son attacked him, too – except in this case, he crippled him.”

“I did say anyone who trespassed would be killed on sight,” Lao Nie said, entirely unbothered. Because of course he wasn’t – why would anyone think that suddenly being freed of a lifetime’s death sentence would make him less reckless and shameless? If anything, his overwhelming joy had just made him even more arrogant and inclined to insist on getting his own way. “It’s been known for years, and no exceptions have ever been made, not even for sect leaders. Why should Jin Guangshan think himself different?”

“That’s a terrible excuse,” Lan Qiren scolded. “And besides the point.”

“What is the point?”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth, then stopped, thought it over, and sighed. “The point is, I suppose – are you going to the Jiang sect next?”

Lao Nie blinked. “The – Jiang sect? Why?”

“Because instead of the cultivation world breaking the ‘curse’ on your son, your son has apparently taken to breaking the curses of the cultivation world,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “And he’s already gotten four out of the five Great Sects, so why not complete the set?”

Lao Nie’s lips quirked. “Four? I can see the others: my Nie sect’s qi deviations, Wen Ruohan’s madness for power, the Jin sect’s terrible luck in getting that scheming old lecher selected as their next sect leader…but what did he do for the Lan sect?”

“It was in his name that you forced my brother out of seclusion all those years ago,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “And now I spend half of every year traveling wherever I wish, and the other half teaching; it is everything I would have wanted. Meanwhile, my brother has finally through his children learned what it means to care for others instead of rotting to death in a self-imposed grave built from ill-fated love…if that’s not curse-breaking, what is?”

[flameo-hotman]

I’m finally talking about the Aunt-Suki drama because even though that is over and she was exposed, I think it is time I addressed the way it has affect me.

I will be mentioning some of the threats I was sent so tw for that in the tags. (Though I will not be quoting them because of how vile the threats were.)

Sometimes I still think back to that bullshit that happened months ago and it makes me mad.

The drama, the lies, the anons.

And like yes that drama over and the person who started that drama left the site, but I’m still mad. And well her lies were exposed for what they were, the damage was done.

People left the fandom. (I thought about doing the same. I thought about deleting my blog.) And those of us who stayed, I think what happened changed some of us.

I know it changed me.

There were threats made to me by certain anons during the drama that went down. Now anons making threats wasn’t something new to me. I mean we all remember the saga of asshole anon.

But it was the first and only time anons made threats to hurt my dog. And I feel sick whenever I think about those threats.

My dog.

Each time I think about taking down some of the walls I built during and following the drama, I think back to those threats. Those threats were the most sickening depraved things anyone has ever sent me, and when I think about them they make me mad.

I want to be open. I want to do a voice reveal. (At the time I was even thinking about doing a face reveal, but that is forever off the table.)

And logically I know that those anons would have had no follow through on their threats. But it was and still is that 0.001% chance that one of them may have tried to follow through that has left me terrified of the idea of anyone offline recognizing me from my blog.

More than anything else that happened, those threats are what stick with me. Not the lies she spread about me and others. Not the block list. Not the my friends being made guilty by association.

It wasn’t even the other anons who made threats against me. Threats to find and hurt/kill me. The demands from anons that I kill myself.

Not any of that.

And yes the drama is long since over. Her lies were exposed. Her own being inappropriate with minor exposed. (You know the very thing she was trying to say that the people are her call out post were guilty of?)

But those threats (which are still saved as screenshots on a flash drive just in case someone does try to hurt my dog. Because if someone does I am giving that flash drive to the police.) stuck with me.

It was those threats that left me with nightmares that I still haven’t spoken about to anyone. Nightmares that I would wake up from in tears and have to be calmed down by the very being that those threats were directed towards.

A being that was a dog. A dog who is so full of love and compassion that words will never properly describe just how wonderful and perfect Momo (dog) is.

And when that drama happened I was already struggling with my mental health. And I wanted to defend myself, but I talked with others about it and we agreed that Aunt-Suki would just take my words and twist them. That if I even acknowledged what she was saying then it would make things worse.

It would have been more fuel to her fire, when I was already at the top of her block list. (And I did respond to the list by saying that for people who wanted to avoid nsfw content the list could actually be useful and even cracked a joke about being honored to be at the top of her list.)

I fully believe Aunt-Suki was the anon who told me about the list in the first place. She probably wanted to get some sort of rise out of me.

Sometimes I wonder what it was she was saying about me in dms because when I would check her blog I would see her telling people to dm her so she could tell them why I was a bad person.

But I stop myself from going down that rabbit hole because I think it might be healthier for me to not know what it was she was saying where I had no means of knowing what she was saying about me.

Whatever it was clearly was something people thought was worth threatening to mutilate my dog over. (And no. That is not an exaggeration. There we’re anons who went into exceeding detail about the exact ways they were going to kill my dog.)

My dog who matters more to me than life itself. My dog who is the only reason I am still alive. My dog who made me realize I am worth something because how could my dog love me so much if I was everything my bio mom had convinced me I was.

Talking about those threats with my friends helped me. They were able to make me understand that that was all those threats were.

Empty words that would never amount to anything.

But like I already said, part of me never stopped worrying.

Part of me never stopped being terrified for what could happen to my dog.

That fear has been like a poison. And I am trying to let go of it like I did with everything else that happened during that drama.

I doubt I will talk about the Aunt-Suki drama ever again. (Not that I spoke publicly about it to begin with.)

I just want to stop being afraid. If not for me, then for Momo (dog) because he doesn’t want me to live like that.

So going forward, I am going to try and be more open. A voice reveal is back on the table. (Still no face reveal because tbh while I was only approached offline by a follower once and it was a pretty chill interaction, I want to still have that piece of privacy.)

I am writing this post more for me than anyone else. (And partially to put into context why it is I became so private because some people have asked me about that.)

I won’t be responding to messages about this post because I want to leave what happened in a forgotten past that can’t hurt me. I won’t release the screenshots or ever tell yahl what was said in those anons because what was said in them was in retrospect traumatizing.

Just know that I am healing from what happened and finally moving past it.

I want to thank every single one of you for being the most amazing followers I could ask for and that yahl just being here has helped me.

So thank you.

[trash-but-respectable-trash]

So I saw your your brother reaction to fifity shades of grey and it was halrious 😂 so since your request are open I was kinda hoping you could do a mc who is a movie star and they watch her movie then how are their reaction to her kissing and steamy scenes and how mc is comfortable throughout the movie and comment that their partner was really good kisser I'm pretty sure it's gonna be awkward

Thank you for the request, I love this idea! I felt like it would be weird for some of the brothers to tell them about the other actor being a good kisser, so this part isn’t mention with every brother. Sorry for the long wait, I was in the process of moving out and then I kinda lost motivation to write, but I’m finally back!

The brothers reactions to seeing MC “acting” in a steamy scene from a movie she starred in

Context: You casually mentioned to Asmodeus that you starred in a movie back in the human realm when he was doing your nails and Asmo made it a mission to found out what was the movie since you didn’t want to tell him. He finally found it after using his natural charms and decided to wait for the perfect occasion to watch it with you and the rest of his brothers.

Warnings: This is in second person, but I do use “actress” when I’m mentioning the MC, also mild NSFW mentions

Lucifer:

Movie Friday wasn’t Lucifer’s favorite, but it was one of the rare occasion where he and his brothers could hang out all together and it also gave him a few hours where he could relax, knowing that none of his brothers were causing trouble. He lost count of who’s turn it was to choose the movie this week, but when Asmo stood up almost skipping towards the TV, he was suddenly worried. He prohibited Asmo from choosing any movie that as much as resembled porn for everyone sakes, so Asmo would often choose movies that were almost porn but no quite, just to annoy Lucifer. While he waited to see what movie it could be this time, he couldn’t help but notice the way you shifted in your seat next to him. He wanted to ask you what was wrong, but he soon figured it out when he looked back at the screen and saw YOU and a random guy on the title screen. You seemed to get out of your trance and you quickly turned to Lucifer to tell him you were the main actress in the movie Asmo chose. Lucifer remembered seeing that information in your student file. Lucifer being Lucifer, he carefully analyzed every part of the movie, admiring your acting skills until the steamy scene came up. He didn’t say anything, acting like nothing was wrong even though he had a clear shot of your naked body, when he never even saw it in real life yet. He he was doing fine until you casually told him that the actor kissing you and touching you in inappropriate ways, was actually a really good kisser and that you were not totally acting in that scene. Lucifer can’t believe you just told him that like it was nothing. How could you say that and expected him to take it well? Suddenly he can’t hide his frown anymore and frankly, you hurt his pride as well. He decided that to make up for it, he’ll just have to make you forget about this guy by given you an even greater kiss.

Mammon:

Mammon knew about your acting, but he didn’t really care about it once you told him you were “retired” and didn’t want to act anymore. You thought it was fun for the time it lasted, but you were over it and Mammon knew he couldn’t make money out of your acting skills. What he didn’t expect was for Asmo to choose one of the movies you were featured in for Movie Friday. He was actually too busy fighting with Levi to realized you were literally on the home screen of the movie until you pulled on his sleeve to get his attention. Once he looked at the TV, he suddenly turned into a blushing mess. “Who the fuck is that guy embracing you??”. “It’s the other main actor Mammon!”. How could you do this to him? It’s not like you guys were dating or anything and it’s also not like you knew him back then when you shot that movie, but you shouldn’t have done it anyway! Mammon was pissed off about the whole thing before the movie even began. But whatever he was mad about couldn’t have prepared him for the steamy scene he was about to witness. Why was this guy giving you this look? And why was he now taking off your clothes??? Mammon couldn’t take it anymore, he stood up from his seat on the couch and turn off the TV, making everyone complained about it getting to the good part. Mammon just told them they were all a bunch of perverts before storming out of the living room and into his bedroom. You decided to follow him, finding him crawling on his bed, rambling about how he was your first demon and that it meant something to him. You comforted him all night long, telling him how important he was to you too and how it was just a stupid movie with no feelings involved. You were glad you didn’t tell him about how you thought the actor was a great kisser, you didn’t think Mammon would have ever get over it.

Leviathan:

“Wooooaaaaahhhh” was his first reaction when you told him you were an actress back in the human world. He asked you all about the movies you played in, obviously asking if you knew any actors from TSL and he was a little disappointed when you told him that you didn’t know any of them personally. Other than that one time, he never asked you about it again, since he prefers to watch shows in 2D anyway. So when you tried to get his attention when he was fighting with Mammon and he finally looked at the screen, he wasn’t surprised to see you on the home screen of the movie Asmo chose. He had no idea what the movie was about, but for once he ditched his switch to give all of his attention to the movie. He could easily tell from all the anime tropes he ever saw in his life, that a steamy scene was coming just by the obvious sexual tension the movie was trying to set between you and the other actor. This didn’t prevent him from being completely flustered when the scene actually happened. He started freaking out in his seat, struggling to keep still and talking out loud about the last TSL episode he watched, anything to think about something else than you and that guy on screen even if no one was actually paying attention to him. When the scene was finally over, he calmed down and even enjoyed the rest of the movie, the remaining scenes not going further than kisses. When the movie was finally over, he quickly got up and simply said “great movie” before running to his room to found the movie online and rewatch the steamy scene in the privacy of his room.

Satan:

Satan is someone who would rather read a book than watch a movie even though he does enjoy watching a good movie from time to time. He learned about your previous acting career when you told him once that you played in a movie that was based on the human book he was currently reading. Since he didn’t particularly like the book, he didn’t bother watching the movie version. Especially since it was before he really got to know you, so he wasn’t really interested by your acting at the time. He recognized the name of the movie when he saw the cover of the movie before Asmo even put it into the DVD player. He remembered there were quite a few steamy moments in the book and he started wondering if there would be any of those scenes in the movie. He was quite enjoying the movie at first, he was also analyzing every detail of your acting much like Lucifer, noting how much of a great actress you were and it became especially true when the first steamy scene came on. It was actually hard for him to tell if you were acting or if it was genuine so he decided to asked you directly since you were sitting next to him. He wasn’t particularly happy with your answer when you told him that it was barely acting and that you thought the other actor was a really good kisser. Satan didn’t fully understand the emotion he was feeling but he associated it to the way he felt whenever you were hanging out with one of his brothers. Perhaps it was jealousy? Or maybe he was feeling protective over you? Whatever it was he didn’t like it and it only made him want to kiss you right there just to make you forget about this guy and the kiss he gave you.

Asmodeus:

He was the most curious of all the brothers since unlike his other brothers, you actually told Asmo about the steamy scene in the movie you starred in. He was a bit disappointed when you didn’t want to tell him exactly what movie it was, but he had his ways and it didn’t take long before he found out which movie it was and got his hands on a copy of the movie. Once he found it though, he couldn’t wait to watch it, finally seeing how you look naked, making his imagination go wild. But he decided that this was too good to watch alone, so he waited for his turn for Movie Friday. He also knew Lucifer would let him choose this movie since it wasn’t labeled as anything sexual. The wait was killing him, but he knew it would be worth it to see the reactions of his brothers to seeing you in a steamy scene. He tried to keep a straight face so Lucifer wouldn’t be suspicious, which turned out harder than he initially thought. When the steamy scene finally came on about an hour into the movie, he was conflicted between watching the reactions of everyone or watching your performance on screen. One thing’s for sure, he isn’t the avatar of lust for nothing, he could instantly tell just from watching glimpses of you, that you were definitely not faking it. He teased you about it, expecting you to turn red and struggle to find an explanation, but you just casually told him that he was right and that you weren’t acting in that scene. You even got further in your explanation, telling him that there was sexual tension between you and the actor from the start and when it finally came to this scene, the sexual tension was just so intense that you didn’t even have to act. Asmo was impressed by your honesty, he wasn’t expecting you to be so blunt about it, but he loved it! Although he was disappointed that this was the only steamy scene of the whole movie, he definitely enjoyed what he saw of you and your skills in bed. Now he just had to have you in his own bed to experience your skills himself.

Beelzebub:

You casually mentioned your acting career to Beel one day, when you were eating snacks in the kitchen together at midnight. Beel didn’t press you about it since you didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it any further. He was a very happy boy when he saw your face appeared on the screen, he was finally gonna watch a movie with you starring in it! He tried to stay focused on what was going on, but he had trouble with all the food in front of him. What got his attention and made him forgot all about the food, was when he heard the sudden change in music and simultaneously saw you kissing the other main actor while he was undressing you. Usually, when you were all watching movies together, you would sit on Beel’s lap, but today you decided to sit next to him instead and he was so glad you did because there’s no way he could hide his erection from you. He wouldn’t have thought that seeing you like this would made him react like this, but he couldn’t stop his mind from creating images of the scene that was unfolding in front of his eyes, but with you and him instead. He snapped out of it when you asked him if was okay when you noticed he had stop eating. He reassured you he was fine, asking you to come to the kitchen with him to get more snack even though there were still plenty on the table in front of you. When you questioned him, he quickly told you he was now craving a different kind of snack. Oh. I hope you’re ready, because once he has a taste of this snack, he won’t stopped until he’s satisfied and it might take a while.

Belphegor:

You told him about your acting one day when you were both hanging out in the planetarium. You were both lying down, mindlessly looking at the celling while telling each other random facts about yourselves. This all started when Belphie told you that he was annoyed that his brothers got so much time with you while he was stuck in the attic. Since then, you and Belphie hung out in the planetarium once a week so he could hopefully catch up on the time he wasted being trapped in the attic. He thankfully stayed awake long enough to see that you were the main actress of the movie Asmo chose. He suddenly felt very awake and payed an usual amount of attention to the movie. He just really liked seeing you on screen, acting as a totally different person, it was very interesting to him. It made him think about the time where he faked being an human to trick you into helping him get out of the attic. Whatever thoughts were crossing his mind were quickly dissipated when the steamy scene came on. Were you always this beautiful? He couldn’t help but be mesmerized by your beauty throughout the scene and just like his twin brother, he couldn’t help but imagine himself instead of your on-screen partner in that scene. He immediately got up once the movie ended, he couldn’t wait to get to the attic to take a good nap. He would’ve just take a nap in the living room, but knowing what he was about to dream about, he didn’t want to do anything inappropriate in his sleep around you or his brothers. Let’s just say his dreams that night were filled with images of you and your beautiful body.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | THE EMPEROR INTERLUDE

First time reader click here

A look on the relationship from Tony Stark's eyes. Should give you an insight as to how his character growth was plotted - that's hard to see through a first person POV so I came and delivered the "whys" behind his behaviour.

He felt the restless thrumming of the arc reactor between his ribs.

It was the first thing that drew focus of his mind as the situation at hand began to make sense. He was a clever man - the genius in him wasn't just for the academics; sure, he'd revolutionised the world once or twice or three times over the past ten years, but when it came to the rather delicate matters of the heart, he was as clueless as when he was a teenager.

The difference between then and now was only that he knew when to keep his mouth shut. It didn't matter how many poisonous articles the media sharks spewed out, he didn't hesitate to silence and shut every single one of them without a word to the one that started it all.

She lived blissfully by his side. The papers took their worst: without a direct statement, they speculated and called him a cradle robber, a moralless skirt chaser, every name in the book. She wasn't spared too: despite her young age, her social standing and vulture of a mother, the occasional "opportunistic gold-digger" comment made it's way into the NYC socialite column. She never uttered a peep, never shed a tear or even complained and he was utterly fascinated by it.

The world she was living in was much different that the one he was used to. The younger generation used to confuse him but now it was just terrifying; amongst her peers, only the most bitter, jaded ones expressed their disdain towards the press speculations. He'd taken to scrolling through the comments of her social media to make sure she knew what she was getting into by having a relationship with him; the outcome was bizarre - he didn't expect a positive response whatsoever but there they were, people born in the beginning of a new millennia, excited for her, showing their support for the girl who already had made a name for herself in the scientific community.

Another surprise - she was full of them, each day was like opening presents on christmas morning. Banner had nearly turned green when he found out that the "papichulosatan" he was corresponding with on an invite-only biological sciences themed forum was actually a teenager - she had been 16 at the time. Apparently, the inhabitants of the entire planet Earth except for the residents of his tower knew that she was something... Something else.

Not a child, not quite a woman. She hadn't acquired that bittersweetness that Tony associated with women his own age, like Pepper and many more he'd tried to form a relationship with. His girl was pure of heart, clear of soul, but in a way that complimented her maturity. Ever since that fateful night he spent two hours running around the NYC's trendiest clubs just to find her sitting alone with a sense of pride rivaling his own, he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was always on his mind and it was terrifying.

It wasn't like she suddenly made his life entirely something else; rather than changing him, she quietly complimented him in a way that suited them both. They didn't really fight because there wasn't anything to fight about. Sure, they disagreed on things all the time, but the unspoken rule to not force something on one another stood. He learned that with Pepper and she- she seemed to be emotionally mature on her own.

That's what his therapist had said, anyway, surprising herself and him. It was evident that the woman thought, to some extent, that he had made her up. But the honeymoon period passed - and Bruce had joined them - and shit happened, but she still stood quietly by his side, not intruding into his personal space but offering him a shoulder to lean on whenever he needed it. Ever since that, Tony began to feel truly invincible. Not a single event in his life had made him feel this powerful.

She went and made friends with Loki, the unlikeliest of people, and she stood by him, too, seemingly a neverending readiness to tear anyone, who dared to make a negative remark about him, limb from limb. Knowingly or not, she had patched the hole in the team - a gaping, bleeding one, of mistrust and unnecessary cautiousness, and continued to do so every single day without a care in the world. Not just him, Tony Stark, but all of the Avengers were invincible with a back-up like that.

Realistically, Tony knew they still had ways to go. They were begrudging friends at first but now the bonds strengthened; even as his disregard for Rogers lessened, the man himself was taking steps to control his impulsivity and temper. Tony hated that it had to be a teenager cowering in fear in front of Steve for the man to realise his good intentions didn't always get the best results. Tony was grateful to Loki he'd stepped in that time. While he didn't think Rogers would actually strike a woman, two hundred pounds of genetically engineered bulk of muscle towering and yelling over you was no less terrifying.

At least it started to turn gears in that steroid brain of his.

Everything after that seemed like a dream. Quiet and witty until provoked, his girl was insatiable for him in a way that matched his own hunger for her. It was never just sex with her, somehow, each time he was inside her it felt like revelations. They'd sit for hours, her in his lap, his half-hard cock buried deep inside her welcoming heat, sometimes working and sometimes just listening to each other's gentle breathing. All the love songs started to make sense.

Seeing Bruce, his second best friend and partner in crime, handle her like he did provoked an opposite reaction of what he was expecting of himself. Tony had been terrified of her leaving him, every single day, no matter how many times his ugly, rotten inside showed itself and she still accepted him; with time, the ache dulled, but it never fully went away.

Bruce put a gentle band-aid on it, unknowingly of course - the scientist was too busy taming his own demons to look out for Tony's - but he went to Tony and laid his cards out on the table. Not backing down and not being sorry for himself either, so neutral it made Tony's heart hurt. They both had come to an agreement, of course, but she went and shredded it and showed them fair and square that they both - all three of them - could get what they wanted only if they worked on themselves a little bit.

For the first time in their lives, the men were truly motivated. There was none of that manipulative undertone that Pepper liked to use on Tony - "you're an adult man, you should be doing and feeling this or that or I'll have to leave you" - there were just gentle hands and even gentler words and no expectations. One day at a time, every single one of them was learning, happily so.

And it wasn't until Natasha had ambushed him in his workshop that he realised, another one of many firsts, that this was what healthy love was supposed to be. There were no obligations, no covert contracts, not one thing that made the whole 'committment' shiding so toxic and terrifying.

Somehow, Natasha knew. "If you hurt her, that's on you. She won't run the first time, and the second time, it's going to be the straw that broke the camel's back... And I would pity you if that happens. Because people like her... They are dangerous when they are hurt. She would gut you like a pig."

Tony's ears were ringing; he wanted to laugh at the absurd thought of this understanding, kind human being acting maliciously. But all he could focus on was Natasha's choice of words: "If... If..." If, not when. Did the spy really think the three of them stood a chance?

Natasha had unceremoniously picked up and chugged his long-cold coffee, gracefully hopping up on the table. "You two are more alike than you think. Figured you'd be self-absorbed enough to choose a carbon copy of yourself," With that, the Russian left, leaving a gaping Tony to stare into the nearest wall. His brain registered it was a joke way too late, the fury that crawled up to burn his throat was cooled by disbelief. If Romanoff thought he was even half as kind and thoughtful as his girl, was it really an insult? Damn those puzzling Russian spies.

Bruce had come not much later, shaken and pale but not green, so deep in thought that he ran into lab equipment twice before ending up in the same place that was occupied by Romanoff minutes earlier. He muttered something about Loki and a pep-talk; things that sounded more like a discussion with his green side, so Tony left him alone.

The shift in Bruce's and Hulk's dynamic was visible to the naked eye ever since that long night in the lab where they both watched Peter and her working on something personal, perfect symbiosis, well-oiled scientific research machine, unlike themselves. Both of them choking on jealousy and acrid, ravenous envy, feelings too inappropriate but too obvious to conceal. Peter's crush on her was just as obvious and her disinterest was just as transparent. But the what-ifs had eaten at them both until they had to spew them out, and the Hulk had been the pushing force for them to begin to act like adults.

Hulk had proposed, in his limited vocabulary and much too passionate tone, to protect the puny Princess at all costs. Bruce didn't resist much and Tony jumped on the bandwagon as soon as he could. It was the only logical solution.

That's why Tony threw the party; he could not care less about Barnes' desire to see Rogers in something trashy and slutty on all Hallows Eve. He couldn't give any less fucks about the press that was raving for another Stark party. He did care a little about Strange's wounded ego: the man fascinated him, like any other strong-willed, independent character, but nothing more. Tony wanted to know what would make the sorcerer tick.

Tony wanted to give his baby girl the world.

And then, he failed.

Tony felt as if someone had poured a bucket of waste right over his head when his- their baby girl had come in, shaking and hiding behind a furious Loki and announced in a monotone voice that she'd been drugged. Something inside of him broke, snapped just like the pencil that Strange was holding next to him.

Bruce hulked out and Tony felt as if he himself would burst any second. His Princess was fearless, he knew it, yet couldn't help his heart from skipping a beat when she approached the green beast with the same kindness she treated all of her closest people. Tony didn't hesitate to follow the Hulk's orders, eager to channel the murderous rage and regretful anguish somewhere; it just spiraled out of hand. Once again, his head was underwater as his life spiraled further and further into lightless abyss and he was alone-

And then all of a sudden, he was warm. Not on the outside, but on the inside - the arms around his shoulders were comforting like an old, worn out sweater, familiar. Missing s couple of threads and spouting a couple of holes - imperfect, but utterly his. Her breathing steady but a little bit shaky, hands holding on just a little too tight.

You two are too much alike, he remembered Natasha's words. That was probably her way of showing just how scared she was. She could be as terrified of his reaction as of the person who did... That... To her. In his house. Tony wasn't stupid; he could put two and two together. That wasn't the time to mope or wallow in self-pity, it was the time to remove the foreseeable threat.

The team stood in silent agreement. A rare moment of absolute unity, all interpersonal issues pushed aside and locked away. Coulson's side-eye was of cosmic magnitude but nobody paid it any mind. It was very unlikely that even the agent himself would be able to stop Natasha and Clint from dealing with the guy; as more and more details came forward, the clouds in the room thickened.

Nobody batted an eye when Baby was, yet once again, the voice of reason and the operation Baby Thief began progressing forward smoothly. Tony reasoned what himself that letting her go with Strange was the best option - even the billionaire himself could not get a better combo than a sorcerer and a doctor that very day.

The box was retrieved; the mere presence ff it and the terse atmosphere it brought into the room reminded all of them too much of the Tesseract and it's effects. Loki was, perhaps, the worst of them all: pacing like an agitated animal, the god growled under his breath at his brother who was clouded with grief and worry. Tony found himself asking "what would Baby do" and came to a conclusion - nothing that wouldn't require him to step over his pride.

In the end, he conceded. A simple "Walk with me", but it was an obvious olive branch extended to Loki and the Asgardian knew it. He wasn't stupid enough to refuse a truce offering in a situation like that. They walked laps around the SHIELD base in neutral silence, slow steps, each lost in their respective thoughts but being finally able to breathe with a full chest. Thankfully, nobody made a remark that they both returned as soon as the box was secured and placed in temporary containment for Strange to pick it up.

For the second time in those 24 hours, Tony's arc reactor all but buzzed in response to his skyrocketing heart rate. She'd called - Loki's phone - and she sounded broken. All of them froze at the exhaustion in her voice; there was nothing but emptiness in the whispers. Nothing that made her, her.

The scene in front of them was something straight out of a B-rated horror movie. Tony thought Loki had reached the apex of his anger earlier; evidently, the engineer had been very wrong and godspeed to the people who managed to piss off the moody Asgardian. It appeared as his magic exploded out of him, all but knocking the people behind him into the walls of the Sanctum.

Their Baby, laying on the floor and the people who swore to protect her beside her, it set Tony's blood ablaze. It boiled, tipping the heat if his temper dangerously close to it's boiling point. She spoke to them, voice shaky and her own fire - it was burning at least as strong as his blood, something had happened and something had hurt her...

Belatedly, he realised Natasha had been right. She was dangerous. There was nothing of the sad, scared girl that came to Bruce whenever she had been upset; there was no desperation for validation, the very same she'd thought she hid well but it seeped through the cracks of her self-deprecating jokes.

Something... Or someone... Had threatened something vital to her. And she was going to make sure they never, ever get the chance to do that again.

I got a comment on AO3, where I also posted this, complimenting my world building. I took a moment to think about it and I understood that to make the story more saturated I had to include some of the other's POVs. So y'all can count on more of these. And if you feel like the x doctor Strange pairing isn't being fully explored - I am aware of that, it's going to be explored more. After all, it took us 10 chapters for Bruce and Tony respectively, and Stephen is a slightly more complicated man. That said, we'll have some more interactions with him shortly. Thank you for your continuous support, guys. I may not remember every single one of your nicknames my heart but I see the likes and I definitely notice whenever a new person binges on this fic. What originally started as an excuse to write hot boomer porn has now grown into something that's a whole damn book and that's because of you guys being so amazing. I love you all 3000.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[gettingvetted]

Personal rant time!

The clinic owner of the practice who has offered me a job got royally pissed that I asked again for a higher salary. She basically “professionally” went off on me in an email, essentially telling me that I am implying that she won’t keep her word to pay me better if possible, just at a later date and not now? She insists that she offers a comparable salary and benefits to her competitors (false) and heavily implied that if we’d had an in-person interview and I’d negotiated like this, then she wouldn’t have found me to be a good fit for the practice and wouldn’t have offered me the job.

I went ahead and signed the contract as-is and sent an apology, but have been talking to a ton of people about it since then. They are all saying that I should run away, because a) she offered me a very low salary, poor benefits, and a restrictive non-compete clause to start with and refused to really give any concessions there, b) if she is getting upset with me for trying to negotiate then she is not a good business owner, and c) having to insist that she is an honorable person that doesn’t hide things means that she probably is not.

One of the other things that is grinding my gears is that she has not been fully honest with me about the reasons that she has had 4 associates leave in the past year. She insists that it is all about them not being “suited” to the rural area, or following their significant others elsewhere. Meanwhile my best friend from undergrad is from that town and used to work for that vet and knows the two associates that most recently left, and they actually left because they were massively overworked and massively underpaid, and the practice owner and longer-term veterinarian would not step up to take some of the work load off the shoulders of the newer associates. The practice owner does not know that I know these things about her associates.

This friend from undergrad today insisted that I’m not worth the salary that I think I am. She insists that the averages I’m finding are for seasoned vets and I can’t possibly expect to start at their average salary, and that even though this practice owner is offering me less than average it doesn’t mean anything because an average means that half of the numbers are below that. She said that all first jobs suck and don’t pay you what you’re worth and I just need to “man up and get over it.” She said that the practice owner’s email was not unprofessional, that she was merely reacting to having her feelings hurt. She said that the practice owner has no reason to offer me a higher salary because she doesn’t know whether I’m going to be a good vet or maker her any money. She also said that I need to back out of the contract now because I don’t trust the practice owner and I have already offended her before even meeting her so there is going to be bad blood before I even start, and my attitude toward the situation is inappropriate.

I explained to her that the averages I’m looking at are literally for new graduate veterinarians practicing mixed animal medicine in the state where the practice is, and that since the practice is offering me a lower salary than 1 standard deviation from the mean salary, that means they are offering me less than what 90% of new graduates practicing mixed animal medicine in that state are offered to start. I told her that the people telling me to run away are seasoned veterinarians who examine contracts for hundreds of students each year so they know what they’re doing and they know what to expect out of a new graduate contract. I also told her that while I haven’t given the practice owner a reason to trust me yet, she has also been hiding things from me too, as described above.

My friend told me that I’m being selfish and unrealistic and that she was getting annoyed just listening to me, and says that the practice owner is going to know that I don’t like her from the start and that I’m not going to like the town or the job or the boss so I should just back out now. She said that we shouldn’t talk about it anymore because she was getting offended on the part of the practice owner because she likes her “even though she does shady things sometimes.” Okay???

This person is my best friend, but she just clearly doesn’t understand the standards and negotiation process of a veterinary contract. Just because she is used to this practice owner’s way of doing things doesn’t mean it’s the standard or even remotely acceptable. Idk. I’m just so pissed off about this entire thing. I am actively looking for other jobs and have found a likely candidate elsewhere, as well as given my information to several recruiters. If I haven’t found something else by this time next month, I will probably give up and go to work at the original place, but not be ashamed about looking for something else if I’m not happy. It just sucks because I want to stay in one place for a few years and this is not looking like that place.

[onyxheartbeat]

My mother did the best she could raising my sister and myself, and she is my best friend now. I try to not hold any grudges against her methods, as there is no such thing as a perfect parent. I don’t want children, and I never have at any point in my life, however I often think about how I would raise a daughter if I had one. Learning from the mistakes of my mother (Asian and/or Catholic raised girls will specifically be able to understand this), I would stress the importance of sexual independence. Many Asian mothers do not discuss sexuality with daughters, and that is harmful. In hindsight, I sometimes am upset with my mother for perpetuating the harmful construct of virginity. I would make it a priority to explain to my daughter that virginity is not only a construct established to control women’s bodies and sexual independence, but also an offensive word, depending on someone’s religious or nonreligious beliefs. I am not religious. The word virgin is in direct association with a religious figure. This is why I find its usage inappropriate and out of touch in current society, as it may offend someone who does not identify with Catholicism or any religion for that matter. This brings me to a woman’s hymen. It is extremely harmful for young women to grow up believing that a part of their body should remain intact because it is in direct relation to their worth or sexual identity. The hymen is a woman’s own concern, and nobody else’s. I specifically remember being at a store with my mother when I was about 15 years old, and asking to try tampons. She said “No.” When I asked why I couldn’t, she said “Because you have a hymen,” and walked away, ending any chance for open dialogue. This is common for Filipino mothers, but harmful nonetheless. Let me give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she was concerned about the rare toxic shock syndrome, or simply wanted my body to be fully formed before inserting anything inside of it; after all, that would be understandable. However, she being a mother, I think a much more intelligent response would have been to simply explain those concerns to me, and explain that my hymen does not define my sexuality or identity in any way. Look at parts of the world where girls as young as twelve are arranged to marry and have sex with adult men. They are raised to believe their vagina is reserved for a man’s pleasure. In some countries, genital mutilation to women is a common form of punishment or means to control her sexuality. This brings me to my next point; sexual activity. I understand it is a parent’s right to not allow their daughter to date or have sex. However, I find this to be harmful as well if the practical reasons are not explained. Growing up, my mother found sex scenes in film to be unacceptable for me to watch. I never understood why consenting people having sex, a completely natural act, was considered bad to watch? In America, sex in general is feared. The sexual education system harmfully perpetuates abstinence as a form of birth control. Many schools don’t have a decent sexual education class, not even covering the cruciality of consent. Condom commercials and advertisements are unseen, and girls are hit at a young age with persecution from a myriad of sources about either promiscuity or “sluttiness.” Trying to process this information on top of balancing the political concepts of pro-life and pro-choice, a construct of virginity, pressures into having sex or not having sex, wreak havoc on girls sexual independence. Trying to find the information you need about sexual health should be easy, and so should finding compassion and understanding from teachers and parents. It’s vital that girls know growing into their sexual confidence is nothing to be ashamed of, and is something to be celebrated. They should be taught sexual autonomy, and how to form healthy sexual relationships with respectful people. They should be taught anatomy doesn’t define them. They should be taught that having sex or not having sex is their decision—nobody else’s.

[chaosbcrne]

i've contemplated making this post for some time now and kept struggling when trying to find the right words to even begin with. i've come to the conclusion that there's no one good way to do this, especially coming out of nowhere as it is, so i'll just preface it by saying, to you, whoever might be reading this, you are under no obligation or expectation to read any further.

i am making this post to address as much as i can think of addressing, as a way of having proper closure here. this is not me trying to make a comeback or anything of the sort, it's just me trying to close the book for myself and anyone else who might feel concerned. so please, if you know enough to know why i disappeared, if hearing from me stresses you out, if my presence makes you feel unsafe to any degree or you know it might have a negative effect on your mental state or even just your mood, please do not feel any pressure to read on. you will not be out of the loop if you do not read this, this post will have zero impact on you or the community. this post will not be deleted or edited either, so if you can't stand to just ignore it, feel free to come back to it later.

before i get into anything, i want to apologize for any potential bad timing; i have not logged in here or otherwise seen the state of the dash since roughly two or three weeks after my last post (so about four months ago). i do not know who is or is not following me or who otherwise might see this post , i do not have the slightest idea of how the community fares these days. i apologize if this happens to be published at an especially bad time, or on the contrary it's a particularly good one, it's purely coincidental, and i encourage you once again to simply come back to this when it's more convenient if you do feel like you ought to read what follows.

as stated previously i have had no contact with this blog or any of the blogs that were previously associated with it in a few months now. i have no idea if what happened where i'm concerned was addressed publicly or not. i do believe it would have warranted a callout post, but i don't know if one was actually made. it makes it difficult to address when i don't know what people generally do or don't know, so i'll just say this: everything you've heard, if you've heard anything, is probably true.

the abuse, the gas-lighting, the suicide baiting, the mean or passive-aggressive comments, the talking smack about people in private. all of it happened, and it was happening for several months, and i'm not here to try to deny or justify any of it. i'm sure anyone who paid attention to the dash was able to observe that i had questionable vibes at best, and i'm here to tell you that it was much, much worse in private, and it was much, much worse for those who endured it than i could ever make it out to be.

for most of the time i was on here, i tried to advocate against elitism, clique culture and all around bad energies while being one of the main people to perpetuate them. i never questioned myself and if anyone confronted me, i took for granted that they were wrong and argued around it. i had a 'assume people are shitty until proven otherwise' mindset that resulted in a lot of unwarranted aggression, mistrust and guilt-tripping towards many people. i caused an immense amount of tension and distress, both on and off the dash, and never took responsibility for any of it at the time. for that, i am sincerely sorry.

there's only so much i can say without starting to list everything i've done to people individually - which i think would be inappropriate considering i am making this post without speaking to them first or otherwise knowing whether they've recovered or would be okay with me disclosing the details of our involvements. 

however, i don't want to simply dismiss my actions by confirming i did them and moving on, either. if there are any allegations i should address or at least acknowledge in more details, please let me know. i just quite frankly don't know how to publicly take accountability for things that went on over the course of a long time, or that weren't always explicit, or that i may not realize the full extent of even now, seeing as i've never gotten to actually discuss them with the people concerned. i don’t want to make this a potentially triggering read for those who were involved by bringing up details without their permission, but i don’t want those who weren’t involved to assume my actions were minor offenses only because said details are lacking, either. it's important not to underestimate the gravity of the harm i've caused, and far be it from me to try and sweep it under the rug. in that sense, the only thing i can say is, make no mistake, i am 100% guilty of all of it.

what’s more, me admitting to my wrongdoings is only me going off of what i can remember. i can guarantee that all i've done is even worse than i make it sound, seeing as it's worse than i'm able to comprehend, for i was never the one on the receiving end of my behavior.

for the longest time i wholeheartedly believed i couldn't be a bad person because i never /meant/ to hurt anyone. i was wrong. i was a bad person because even when i knew that i was capable of unintentionally hurting people, i did not take responsibility or seek to correct my behavior. i always had (pardon the language) bullshit excuses to justify my actions and invalidate the pain of those i hurt, whether it was to myself or to other people. i thought my initial intentions mattered more than the effect they had, and therefore no harm was ever actually my fault because i hadn't intended it.

it's an incredibly toxic mindset to have. it's the same rhetoric with which racists, homophobics, ableists and such people can get away with racism, homophobia, ableism and so on without guilt- by convincing themselves that if they don't mean it that way, then it absolves them of blame, and whatever harm they cause is technically the victim's fault for taking offense to it. it's a very harmful thought process, and not at all the kind of person i want to be, and i'm sorry i hurt so many before i came to understand this.

for what it's worth, i am getting help. i am seeing a therapist once a week since may, with the goal of understanding where my abusive and manipulative reflexes come from and getting rid of them. beyond our weekly sessions, i was given an exercise to do on my own time, on a daily basis (or at least as often as i interact with others), meant to help me learn to believe in the inherent goodness of people and develop a kinder and more optimistic disposition towards them. i have also taken a summer course in communication in hopes of (re)learning how to properly listen and be more receptive of people's thoughts (and especially criticism), although that has admittedly not proven quite as effective as i'd hoped, so i am looking to consult with a specialist in that department when post-pandemic re-openings allow it.

obviously, none of these efforts make up for what i've done. they are quite frankly too little too late and will never erase the pain i've inflicted. unfortunately, they are also the only concrete action i can take to make amends after the fact, now that the damage is done. or so it seems from my current perspective.

if there is anything else i can do to make up for even a fraction of the harm i've caused, i would be very thankful to hear about it. if there is something i am at fault for that i may not be taking accountability for, i would also like to know. keeping in mind that, while knowing exactly how my behavior was problematic would allow me to better take the blame for it, this is not an obligation or expectation in any way. please only let me know about such things if you feel secure in doing so; do not feel pressured if you feel it would compromise you. my growth is no one's responsibility but my own. that being said, i know that i scared and bullied a lot of people into silence in the past, and i feel like inviting you to speak up about the stress or pain i've caused you is the least i can do to make up for it. if it's more empowering for you to ignore this and move on, by all means, just ignore this and move on.

if at all possible, i would also like to apologize for my behavior - more than just generally. i honestly believe that i have caused some manner of torment, whether directly or indirectly, to everyone in this community, and that everyone is deserving of an apology. i am fully aware that most of the people concerned likely feel unsafe at the idea of being in touch with me in any way, so i will not be reaching out to you directly myself, but with your permission, i would like to personally and individually apologize to anyone willing to indulge me for a brief exchange. i am not doing this to earn your forgiveness; i am doing this because i genuinely feel bad. if i can contribute to your finding closure by acknowledging how i've wronged you, it's the least i can do. i promise that i have no intention of using this as an opportunity to renew contact and that, should you do me this favor, you will be more than welcome to completely cut ties after the fact with no hard feelings on my end.

i can be reached in a fairly timely manner (as in, i am logged in on those accounts on my phone) on discord (Eph#2409) and tumblr ( @friendlifyre ). if a less instant method of communication is more comfortable for you, the e-mail crimsonxblur@gmail.com is at your disposal. if you don't mind the wait, you can also give me a nudge on this blog, as i will be (albeit rarely) logging in here to work on old drafts (without publishing them) until they're finished or i otherwise feel content with leaving this part of my life behind.

as a small addendum, i am humbly asking to please be civil if you use any of these methods to reach me. while i am arguably deserving of the death threats and insults coming my way, i am sharing these specifically to make open communication possible, and to make it easier to avoid me for those who wish to do so. i will not silence you if you choose an aggressive approach as i recognize it's ultimately what i deserve; i only ask that you at least consider that i am really just trying to do something right in the wake of all the wrong i've done, and i would appreciate if all related messages could remain constructive and not just mean for the sake of being mean.

as a conclusion i can only apologize once more for the bad vibes i brought into this community. it will be months if not years of active work on myself before i can confidently say that i have made progress and become a better person, yet i suspect a good number of people may carry with them the tension and fear i've instigated far longer. i am truly sorry. i can only offer, for what little consolation it might be, that not at single day goes by that i don't regret my actions and feel the weight of them.

if i could give my past self any advice, or anyone who indulges in similar attitudes, it would be to keep questioning yourself, to stop assuming you know better. just because your intentions are not bad does not mean they never affect people in a bad way. just because you can recognize abusive behavior in others, does not make it inherently impossible for you to be abusive. make an effort every day to consider those around you as individuals, even when it's easier to view them as parts of a bigger whole, of a community. learn not only to be kind but to think kindly, to catch yourself when you think mean thoughts and condition yourself to a more positive approach. assume people are good until proven otherwise. if there's anything you want to get off your chest that you wouldn't want divulged to the whole world, even when you think you're just harmlessly venting, you are ultimately spreading negativity and should work on getting rid of it from within instead.

it's always more work to improve than to stay the way you are, but you owe it to everyone else if not to yourself to be someone who's good to be around.

thank you for taking the time to read this if you have. regardless of who did or whether there is any kind of response to this, i will continue this work-in-progress that is my self and try to make sure i never put anyone else through what i've been putting people through here. i am glad i have the opportunity to acknowledge at least some of my problematic behavior and apologize, as it seemed, for quite some time now, the only logical step i hadn't taken yet in my journey to moving forward.

once again, thank you for reading this, and, assuming this is the last interaction we'll have with one another, i wish you the very, very best.

[mxadrian779]

How Not to Be an Ableist Dick.

Lame is ableist. Deal with it.

Disability metaphors abound in our culture, and they exist almost entirely as pejoratives. You see something wrong? Compare it to a disabled body or mind: Paralyzed. Lame. Crippled. Schizophrenic. Diseased. Sick. Want to launch an insult? The words are seemingly endless: Deaf. Dumb. Blind. Idiot. Moron. Imbecile. Crazy. Insane. Retard. Lunatic. Psycho. Spaz.

Lame is fucking ableist

New meanings aren’t random

At the same time, much media attention has been paid to the use of slurs such as retarded. Similarly, the stigma associated with psychiatric disabilities has left its mark on many words, rendering them insults, such as crazy and insane.

So why isn’t more attention being paid to words like lame?

In the case of physical disability, once-neutral lame now describes someone who is “inept, naive, easily fooled; spec. unskilled in the fashionable behavior of a particular group, socially inept.”

Those who use these expressions tend to try to justify their use in one of two ways.

First, disability is (in their view) actually a bad thing. As one blogger explained:

It’s not okay to call a coward a pussy, or a bad thing gay, they argue, because there’s nothing bad about having a vagina or being homosexual. But there IS something bad about not being mobile! In fact, it’s no fun at all, just totally miserable. All other things held equal, isn’t it better to be not-lame than lame?

(It goes without saying that many people with disabilities would object to having their identity hijacked as the automatic stand-in for all things bad.)

Second, it can be argued – and with some legitimacy – that some of these terms no longer generally refer to disability. Languages change. New meanings emerge from old ones.

But that’s the point: new meanings are not random. Having undergone a process linguists call semantic bleaching, lame has lost some elements of its meaning over time. While physical impairment is no longer part of its (new) meaning, my study of its use in Time Magazine since 1923 showed that it has retained the social meanings associated with disability in the 20th century: awkwardness, stupidity, femininity, lack of social graces and sophistication, and more.

Lame is fucking ableist

Everyday terminology can insult a group of people, even unintentionally. Calling someone a “schizoid,” and expressions like “that’s crazy” and “the last Avengers movie was insane” can be considered offensive to people with mental disabilities. Saying someone is a “basketball junkie” diminishes the seriousness of addiction.

What about saying “that movie was really lame”? A limping horse can be called “lame,” in the sense that it has an injury. But because “lame” can also mean “weak,” “inferior,” or “contemptible,” among Merriam-Webster’s definitions, it’s best avoided in reference to a person or their actions.

An excellent source for disability terminology is the style guide from the National Center on Disability and Journalism, which gives background, Associated Press style guidelines, and advice for its entries.

Lame is fucking ableist

Disability metaphors are abound in our culture, and they exist almost entirely as pejoratives. As Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg wrote on DisabilityandRepresentation.com, “If a culture’s language is full of pejorative metaphors about a group of people, that culture is not going to see those people as fully entitled to the same inclusion as people in a more favored group.” This handout’sprimary purpose is to serve as a reference for linguistic microaggressions and everyday, casual ableism.

Lame is fucking ableist

Why is it so difficult to see that using these words as pejoratives is just as problematic as the once-popular put-down “That’s so gay”?

Despite the reality that nearly one in five Americans has a disability, the fight to extend human dignity to people with disabilities seems an uphill battle. We live in a culture that systematically devalues individuals with disabilities. This group is disproportionately subject to discrimination, underrepresentation and criminal violation. And while these issues may seem far more significant than the problems of labels and slurs, the common language of ableism contributes to a state in which the dehumanization of people with disabilities is culturally acceptable.

Lame is fucking ableist

Lame is a common enough term that even the most “woke” websites and bloggers will use it in their regular language, articles, and posts. Every single time I see it in print or hear it thrown out in casual conversation, my stomach turns a bit. These are people who I know are otherwise politically aware, culturally sensitive, and careful with their word choice. They would never use a racist or homophobic epithet, so why do ableist words seem to get a pass?

First a quick primer on ableism: as racism is to race, ableism is discrimination against disabled people, in favor of able-bodied people. This can take the form of lack of equal opportunities, inaccessibility, word choice, bias, prejudice, and more. Ableism is stairs with no ramps, it is construction crews and delivery vans parking sideways across blue spaces, it is healthcare companies refusing to cover those with pre-existing conditions, and it is calling someone or something you don’t like “lame.”

To be completely clear, lame is a slur. There are countless others out there, but this word in particular seems to be forgiven or forgotten more than any others.

The primary dictionary definition is “having a body part and especially a limb so disabled as to impair freedom of movement.” A few definitions down, it’s defined as slang for “square, inferior, or contemptible.” Originally, this first definition was the only one. Society eventually moved on to other problematic terms such as “handicapped,” but only once “lame” started to colloquially be used to describe anything negative.

Lame is fucking ableist

While only trolls would use a word like ‘retard’, concern with ableist language extends much more widely. There was a time when lots of educated people, with no intent to offend, used words we now regard as sexist, like ‘mankind’ or the male pronoun as a universal. Some of those who used this sexist language were actually supportive of gender equality, and failed to see any connection between their words and reinforcing gender hierarchy. Today, this attitude is much less common. Those concerned with ableist language claim the cases are closely analogous: many of us unthinkingly use words that are ableist without recognizing that fact. They want to alert us to our ableism and have us change our linguistic usage.

For instance, they claim that phrases like “turn a deaf ear to” associate deafness with ignorance; that to call someone or something “lame” metaphorically is to associate walking difficulties with an unrelated (perceived) defect that reduces value; that to describe someone who acts unthinkingly as “dumb” is to inappropriately associate communication difficulties with mere foolishness.

Lame is fucking ableist

We don’t say the r-word anymore. But have you heard someone say one of these recently?

“He’s so crazy.”

“The weather is schizophrenic.”

“Our workload is insane.”

“That’s lame.”

I have, and I’m trying to stop. All the phrases use ableist language.

Ableism is the discrimination of people with disabilities. Ableist language is prejudiced words or phrases against people with disabilities. Disabilities can range from visible to invisible; similarly, ableist language can seem invisible to us (until we start paying attention to our words!) because the phrases are so ingrained in our cultural lexicon.

Lame is fucking ableist

Lame Refers to people with physical or mobility disabilities. Often used as a metaphor. Consider instead: Boring, uninteresting, monotonous, lacks excitement, uncool, out of fashion (if using metaphors); physically disabled person, person with a mobility impairment, paralyzed person (if referring to a disabled person)

Lame is fucking ableist

In the same way that a stranger should not appropriate your body for his commentary, you should not appropriate my disabled body — which is, after all, mine and not yours — for your political writing or social commentary.

A disabled body should not appear in articles about how lame that sexist movie is or how insane racism is. A disabled body should be no more available for commentary than a nondisabled one.

The core problem with using a body as a metaphor is that people actually live in bodies. We are not just paralyzed legs, or deaf ears, or blind eyes.

When we become reduced to our disabilities, others very quickly forget that there are people involved here. We are no longer seen as whole, living, breathing human beings.

Our bodies have simply been put into the service of your cause without our permission.

Lame is fucking ableist

If one of these 12 words is still in your vocabulary, it's time to reframe, rethink and reimagine your word choices.

1. "Lame"

If you're still using the word "lame," you might want to give your internal dictionary a serious update.

"Lame" was originally used in reference to people with reduced mobility due to physical disability. The word is now tossed around schoolyards and workplaces everywhere to mean "uncool" and "unappealing." Even singer-songwriter Ellie Goulding recently included the word in an activist-oriented tweet addressing misogyny in song lyrics.

For a lot of us, "lame" doesn't have that same bad-word sting many offensive terms have. But that definitely doesn't mean it's OK to use. Disability rights activists have long called for the word to phase out. We have a responsibility to respect that.

Lame is fucking ableist

Then it clicked for me. Whether or not I saw any important difference in my use of language, it was having real effects on other people, effects I might not understand. And if that was the case, which my colleague was saying it was, why not make the small change in my language that would matter quite a lot to people around me? It’s so easy. It goes a long way. It doesn’t cost me a thing, but it makes a big difference in the lives of others.

The same is true for ableist language. ‘Lame’, ‘crazy’, ‘dumb’, ‘schizo’, ‘deaf’. We throw around a lot of words whose primary purpose is to describe a mental or physiological condition. Often without thinking, we’re supporting damaging stereotypes about disabilities. But we can change this kind of language, and once we learn to catch it, it’s so easy to do.

...

We need to reframe conversations about marginalizing language to consider the actual damage it causes. Using a word like ‘lame’ as a disparaging catch-all  (which, full disclosure, is a habit I’m still working to change) means that actual lameness—the inability to walk—registers as less than non-lameness, the ability to walk. It pushes people who can’t walk into the margins of what’s considered normal and good.

Lame is fucking ableist

Besides being hurtful and harmful to people who have disabilities, the use of these filler words also decreases the effectiveness of our communication. We stop using the wide variety of words in the English language that communicate precise meanings and, likewise, understand things less precisely. Consider, for example, the difference between saying, “He’s crazy!” versus saying, “He acts in outrageous and unpredictable ways!” Or instead of saying, “That movie was lame,” explaining, “That movie was unoriginal and unenjoyable.” In truth, the world is a more exciting place when we are thinking precisely about what we actually mean, and can communicate our precise meanings to other people. And when we do, we demonstrate love and respect for our fellow human beings.

Lame is fucking ableist

What we sometimes say: “That is so lame!”

Being lame does not mean uncool. Being lame means you are physically impaired from using your legs, yet even within this context it is still an offensive and outdated term.

If a person who has use of their legs, they should not be using a word describing a physical inhibition to describe something they are not a fan of.

What we actually mean, and what we should say: Uncool, cheesy, tacky, corny.

Lame is fucking ableist

Ableist language is any word or phrase that intentionally or inadvertently targets an individual with a disability.For the most part, these words are filler, nothing more. Examples of ableist language include “crazy,” “insane,” “lame,” “dumb,” “retarded,” “blind,” “deaf,” “idiot,” “imbecile,” “invalid (noun),” “maniac,” “nuts,” “psycho,” “spaz.”

Each of these words, when used flippantly, can be extremely insulting to individuals who find themselves with physical (“lame,” “invalid,” “dumb”) or mental (“crazy,” “retarded,” “psycho”) disabilities. A full explanation of why these words are so problematic, along with alternatives that can be used can be found over at Autistic Hoya.

Lame is fucking ableist

Words like as “crazy," "lame," and "retarded," instead of “ridiculous," "pointless," and a thesaurus-full of others, stigmatizes people with disabilities. What's more, such language is often used to deride other marginalized groups.

“[H]ow the world is wired… may be invisible to those who do not have disabilities,” read the Web site for Stop Ableism Inc., a disability rights organization in Guelph, Ontario. Unless you are one of the roughly 56.7 million, or one in five, Americans who have disabilities, or know someone with a disability, you’re less likely to notice the “physical, attitudinal, or systemic” discrimination built into everyday life. Unawareness of ableism is everywhere, said Lydia Brown, a student, writer, and autism activist.

“There is a power structure that non-disabled people can ignore as a result of their privilege as able-bodied and neurotypical,” Brown told Campus Progress, “but which we as disabled people must confront for every moment of our existences.”

Lame is fucking ableist

Because it has been normalised to such an extent, most people using ableist language do so without being aware of the implication behind their words. Subtle insults, directed at minority groups, may seem harmless at first glance but such microaggressions, when accumulated over a lifetime, result in lower self-confidence, depression and higher mortality. Thus, language too can become a medium of oppression. Let’s take a look at the meaning behind certain words which are most definitely ableist but are very much part of everyday conversation.

“That joke was so lame!”

This is a commonly heard phrase. In fact, there are entire websites dedicated to ‘lame’ jokes. ‘Lame’ was originally used to refer to people unable to walk due to physical disability or neurological disorders affecting their feet. In modern day parlance, it has come to mean unoriginal, uninteresting or dull. Next time you use the word ‘lame’ to describe a film or a song, bear in mind that you are equating people who have to rely on canes or crutches with all those negative meanings.

Alternatives: Unimpressive, Boring, Tedious, Uninspiring, Tiresome, Lacklustre, Meh

Lame is fucking ableist

To understand ableism, it is imperative to recognize how society is structured to favor able people. Able privilege encompasses accessibility, language choice, low expectations, microaggressions, and lack of knowledge. All of these aspects are a part of everyday life. Everyday language like “lame”, “insane”, and “idiot” have roots in medicine and a history of discriminatory use about people with disabilities. This builds on the assumption that disability is a detriment. The language we use towards and about disabled individuals (e.g. “wheelchair bound” and “special ed’) disregards their autonomy.

Lame is fucking ableist

They spoke about ableist language and the way that influences, both consciously and subconsciously, people’s view of those with disabilities and what they are capable of doing. For those not familiar, ableist language is when a term that is associated with people with disabilities – things like the R-word, “lame,” or “crazy” – take on a negative and belittling meaning.

Lame is fucking ableist

2. "That's Lame."

Although "lame" is often used to disparage something these days, its original definition refers to the inability to walk. When you say something is lame, you equate lameness with negativity.

Lame is fucking ableist

The use of the words lame, gimp, or   retarded reinforces an underlying assumption that people who have a   disability are also lesser and worthy of scorn, which in turn reinforces the   underlying assumption that people with disabilities are inherently less than   those without disabilities.

Lame is fucking ableist.

Unintended ableism

Just as language is gendered, it can also be ableist. Ableism is simply the discrimination against anyone with a physical or mental disability. And our everyday, casual speak can unfortunately be ableist, reinforcing insensitivity and negative stereotypes.

Words like “blind”, “deaf,” “dumb,” “idiot,” “insane,” “lame,” “nuts,” and “psycho” are all ableist.

Instead of using words like these, take this opportunity to practice clearer communication. Instead of saying, “My manager is nuts if she thinks we’re going to meet that deadline,” you can say: “This deadline is unrealistic.”

Saying what you mean can prevent the use of offensive shortcuts. For some inspiration, check out the work of some great disability activists.

Lame is fucking ableist.

When you insist on using words like “crazy” or “lame” in your speech — or worse, when brands use these words in their marketing copy, which is subject to several layers of internal review — you effectively draw a straight line between people’s physical conditions or mental health issues, and that which is unfortunate and undesirable.

Lame is fucking ableist.

Don’t be an ableist dick.

[kakaji]

HOW THE CONQUEST OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLES PARALLELS THE CONQUEST OF NATURE by John Mohawk

For some twenty years I’ve been doing a range of writing, including journalism, as a hobby. As a writer I have brought people a lot of bad news. Describing the fortunes of this hemisphere’s and to some degree other hemispheres’ indigenous peoples provides an endless sequence of bad news. At one time I was the editor of the largest American Indian publication in the Americas, Akwesasne Notes, which dealt with ideas that at the time were definitely not mainstream. I remember putting out issues in which we raised questions about the nature of the relationship of the human spirit to the natural world and broached the idea that human-created societies are inappropriately distanced from the physical realities of the world. We talked about areas of philosophical thought that have not been explored to their depths in the English language, although I imagine they’ve been explored at some depth in other languages.

Lately, though, my thinking has been shaped by my official career. I teach social history, a subject not usually associated with ecology, although I think it’s high time to make that connection. But first let me mention some of the issues I find myself grappling with in social history, which deals broadly with people’s everyday lived experiences in different cultural contexts and also with how people come to think and feel the way they do about what they encounter in the world.

I became interested in social history when I was in college, a small and conservative and Eurocentric college. In those days undergraduates were required to take a course in philosophy; in the course I signed up for I learned that there was really only one genre of philosophers, who occupied a narrow niche in the world of thought: they were all Western European, they were all male, they were all from what we would describe as the elite privileged classes, and as a whole they stayed within a set of boundaries they defined for themselves. They belonged to a club, as it were. Each one was required to know what was said by the preceding one, and each one was required to build on that. If a student asked the professor, for example, if there were any philosophers in China or Africa, the more or less curt reply was, Not that I know of, and stick to the book.

Having been exposed since then to the ideas of people of many different cultures, I ask myself why these ideas are not part of the overall survey of philosophy even though the profession has loosened its collar a little bit in the thirty years since I was a student. After all, there certainly can’t have been only one stream of knowledge in all of history. I think we need to study Western civilization in order to understand when certain narrow and limited ways of thinking first appeared and where we went wrong. Therefore, I dutifully went back and started reading about the foundations of Western thought, trying to understand it in the light of other cultures.

As I studied Greek philosophy, I asked myself, Who were these Greeks, who gave us what we think of as the foundation of our thought, of our culture, and gave us our ideas about nature and society? I soon made a distinction between what the Greeks said and what they did. My philosophy professor had described a group of men sitting under a tree philosophizing; I saw them as an arrogant bunch who thought they had a new and better way to think about the world. But what were the Greeks actually doing? They were the creators of the most astonishing military organization in the world, building on centuries, even millennia, of military experience. Some clever people with good administrative and organizational skills put together armies that were able to march across the world and defeat everybody in their path relatively easily.

Classical Greece is taken as the starting point of European history, but actually Greece was old by the time of the classical Greeks. Over thousands of years the populations of the Mediterranean had been conquered numerous times before the formation of the Greek city-states we associate with classical Greek culture. By the time we get to the Romans, all of the peoples had been Hellenized. It is difficult to find anything resembling the remains of an indigenous Mediterranean culture.

This lack of indigenous culture leads me to William McNeill’s observations in The Rise of the West. He points out that the utopian religions which appeared in the two centuries before and after Christ arose out of rootless urban populations who had no consciousness of place. Successive waves of conquest destroyed any continuity of culture. This tied in with my reading of Isaiah Berlin’s The Crooked Timber of Humanity, in which he points out that episodes of horrific human slaughter and devastation throughout history often are the product of utopian ideologies.

Utopian ideology in the context in which I’m using the term means that people have an idea, they have a plan, and according to their plan a utopian society is at the end of their path. All of humankind’s problems are going to be solved by reaching this goal. But usually while they’re pursuing their goal, they discover that there are other people who are standing in their way or at least occupying ground needed for them to carry it out. You can’t have a utopian society unless you’re willing to crack a few eggs, as it were, and it’s almost always necessary to crack other people’s eggs to get there.

Understanding the nature of utopian ideology helps us find answers to certain troubling historical questions. In Hitler’s Willing Executioners Daniel Goldhagen asks, How could average everyday ordinary churchgoing Germans, who we all know were fully acculturated twentieth-century Western civilization people, get up in the morning, walk outside, shoot women and children in cold blood, and then come back in the evening and have supper as though they were doing nothing more than making widgets? How could people act in such a cold-blooded manner? Well, all we have to do is follow the real story of Western civilization and we’ll see that there has been episode after episode after episode of people getting up in the morning, going out, and murdering people. I think it started in what we call the modern era at that moment when Western Europe exploded out of Europe and expanded all over the world, beginning in the 1450s when the level of intolerance in European societies rose enormously. Pogroms were started against the Jews, and then in 1492 the Jews were expelled from Spain. What we have is a pattern of behavior of utterly unbelievable cruelty in a society that claims to be civilized.

Another example of the consequences of utopian ideology is the campaign against magic during the three hundred years starting around 1450. Individuals who had a spiritual relationship with plants or animals were considered to be practicing magic. In the 1600s it was believed that these people had renounced Christ and were in league with the devil, who promised them the powers of nature in return, powers they then used against their enemies. This same belief that people making use of the powers of nature must be getting their magic from the devil prevailed in New England: when John Mason or Cotton Mather railed against the practices of the Indians, they were really railing against nature as an evil power, an evil power that must be controlled, overcome, and stamped out.

Witches weren’t going to admit to using magic, so a certain amount of coercive force was required, and the Inquisition was invented in order to drag people into dungeons and twist their limbs until they confessed and even named their neighbors, who were then brought in and treated similarly. That was the beginning of the witchcraft trials—for the most part involving women, by the way. According to some accounts, millions of people over three centuries were accused, tortured, and burned at the stake. What were they guilty of? They were herbalists; they were herb doctors, who believed that the powers of nature could heal the human body. This belief was a direct threat to the power of the Church, which proclaimed that when Christ ascended to heaven, God the Father and the Holy Spirit went with Christ. Until they returned to earth, the Church was the only possible intermediary between humans and supernatural powers. The success of herbalists in curing their patients contradicted this faith in the sole power of the Church.

The war on magic was a psychological war on nature. It wasn’t waged by individuals but by the major institutions in Western culture—by the Church and the state in collusion with each other. They were not only making war on nature, they were also cracking eggs along the way. People accused of being witches were frequently selected because they had property that was desired by the local authorities, so quite often doing away with a witch proved profitable for the coffers of both town and Church. They took the property, including the land. Multiplied by hundreds of thousands or even millions of people over centuries, the plunder must have amounted to a great deal. You might say that the witches provided the early capitalization for the formation of European nation states.

Classical Greek philosophy also rejected nature-based religion. Let’s turn to Socrates by way of example. What did Socrates say about the people who were in the temples interpreting dreams and making forecasts and telling fortunes? He said it was all nonsense that should be replaced by rational thought. Socrates argued that the world must be based on reason, not on dreams and myths and the like. As far as I am concerned, one of the great fountainheads of Western civilization’s understanding of the human spirit is actually the old Greek myths that Socrates disparaged. They are among the most interesting artistic forms ever produced by the West.

I gradually came to believe that it’s not enough to study the history of philosophy, because what the philosophers are saying is entirely different from what is happening. Socrates lived at a time when the major form of social organization could best be described as either military oligarchy or military dictatorship. That is what the Greek city states really were. As I kept delving deeper, I found that in the history of philosophy the part that deals clearly with what’s really going on is something we don’t ordinarily read in social history, and that is military history. Military historians don’t shrink back from talking about political agendas. A military historian comes right out and says, The agenda here was to plunder; the plan was to use so many cannons, so many of this and that. When military historians study human behavior, they come to the conclusion that the purpose of organized armed aggression is to plunder. Now, that’s something which should be inscribed on the library wall at Columbia: the purpose of organized armed aggression is plunder!

I believe that philosophy was used by Western civilization to obscure the act of plunder by cloaking it in fancier terms. Aristotle could have said, We’re evil exploiters, and we’re going to conquer these people; we have the arms to do it, and we’re going to do it without any bad conscience whatsoever because we have the power and we can get away with it.

He could have said that, but he didn’t. Instead, he developed a rationale for one culture ruling another. What he said was: We’re a community of very bright people, and we need someone to do all the drudgery. We’ll make these other folks do it because if they don’t, we real bright people won’t have any time to sit under a tree and think about how smart we are. We’d have to be hoeing the garden, washing the dishes, and all the rest. But we need time to think, and if we think long and hard enough, we’ll come up with all the answers. In fact, the future of the world lies in the governance of the intelligent people of the world, and the project we will set for ourselves is to define civilization. It’s a project of organized thought that will lead us to solve all of humankind’s problems in science, in engineering, in art, in every arena.

Columbus Day was observed recently. For me Columbus Day is a reminder of the Spaniards’ behavior in the Caribbean between 1492 and 1516. Apologists for the Spanish say the decline in the Indian population was not great because there weren’t that many Indians there. However many Indians there were, by 1516 they were almost all dead. Whether there were 800 thousand or 800 million, let’s not lose track of the point here: there was a catastrophic decline in the Indian population on the major islands the Spanish were occupying. Another point needs to be made: one of the books I read said that the Indians were killed off by diseases. No they weren’t. They were not killed off by diseases. The viral diseases the Spanish had that devastated Mexico didn’t reach the Caribbean islands until 1518 or 1519.

What happened during that generation-long occupation of Hispaniola, Cuba, Puerto Rico? In his book The Conquest of America Stzvetan Todorov raises the question of how the Spanish could be so callously indifferent to the lives of the Indians on the Caribbean islands. The same question applies to the Spanish on the mainland of Central America and South America and to the English and then the Dutch in North America. How could they? How can there be greater indifference to human life than was exhibited in the African slave trade? Western civilization is filled with such episodes.

Let’s consider the Caribbean islands. What do the major works (excluding Kirk Sale’s book,The Conquest of Paradise) say about the Caribbean islands? Samuel Morison says in Admiral of the Ocean Sea that it was unfortunate the Indian population declined at that time; the Spanish didn’t want the Indians to disappear, it just happened. Or take Lewis Hanke’s book, Aristotle and the American Indians. Hanke reports the existence of torture factories on the Caribbean islands. The purpose of such cruelty was not merely to extract wealth, although wealth was certainly one of the prospects; it went way beyond that. There were torture manuals that recommended using green wood instead of dry wood to prolong the time it takes to burn somebody to death.

In the late sixteenth-century the Dutch artist Theodor De Bry did a series of illustrations based on the reports of Bartholomé de Las Casas, a priest who was offended by the torture. Las Casas wrote thirty pages describing what was happening on the islands. I have to tell you it’s gut-wrenching stuff. Read his descriptions; then read the chapters in Daniel Goldhagen’s Hitler’s Willing Executioners and tell me there is a difference between the psychology of those Germans and those Spaniards. The same thing is going on, only the Spanish are a little more artistic. The Germans tended to torture people more at arm’s length, whereas the Spanish were up close and personal about it. And it went on and on for twenty-five years, but it’s essentially an unknown story. You won’t find it in any American history textbook.

The King of Spain was embarrassed by all the reports about the cruelty of the conquistadors. He wasn’t happy that they were getting out of hand and escaping the crown’s control over them, so in 1550 he called for a debate. Juan Gines de Sepulveda and Bartolomé de Las Casas, two priests who were also lawyers, stepped forward to make the arguments. Sepulveda took the point of view of the conquerors. He’s called the father of modern racism because of that. He concocted every excuse he could think of to explain why it was all right for the Spanish to do what they were doing to the Indians, and of course he started off with what the Indians were not—they were not Christian and they were not civilized; therefore, the Spanish were justified in treating them as they did.

Sepulveda would have used pretty much the same language and the same reasoning to explain why the Spanish were justified in doing what they did to the parrots, to the trees, to the fish, to every living organism on those islands: they were all biologically inferior beings lacking the consciousness and culture of Spaniards. They didn’t have any rights and therefore could be enslaved and subjected to whatever the Spanish felt like subjecting them to—and the Spanish didn’t need to have a bad conscience.

I think we look at this kind of racism from the wrong perspective in our culture. The real issue here is not Spanish racism toward the Indians. It’s the Spanish claim to superiority over every group, whether human or nonhuman. Once you believe that one group is better than all the rest, murder is justified, genocide is justified; in fact, any act against nature is justified. The only thing that matters is the aggrandizement of Spanish culture.

In all of the literature about what’s happening to indigenous peoples, John Bodley’s book Victims of Progress, on the conquest of indigenous peoples in South America today, seems to spend the most amount of time looking at how people rationalize to themselves their right to seize land, to move other people out of the way, to move plants and animals out of the way—all in order to meet the development needs of modern industrial society. They can do this because of their belief system that says what they are doing is not only not wrong, it has to be done in order to create a world which will be able to solve all of humankind’s problems in the future.

What will the payoff be?  One view is that through science we will someday conquer the major diseases of the world, and we’ll be able to live forever. How you get from that idea, by the way, to the idea that it’s all right to bulldoze huge areas in the name of curing cancer is a tremendous leap. Curing cancer has nothing to do with plundering. There’s not a single thing in the way of plundering the earth or destroying peoples that is necessary in order for scientists to be doing research on cancer. The two aren’t connected at all, although when you talk to people, right away they say, Well, we have to do this because we have to cure cancer. What? You have to be two hundred miles from the nearest road killing trees in order to cure cancer?

Think about the Germans in World War Two and the fact that not only were they willing to kill people but they were completely without conscience about it. Most of us look back at that period with horror and ask, How could they have done that? And we say, Well, they were just a little clique of criminals at the top of an aberrant order who had this crazy idea for a while. I encourage people who believe this to read Goldhagen’s book, which claims they weren’t a little clique of criminals at all. According to him, the whole of German society was in on it because they had so valued themselves and so devalued everyone else, not just the Jews. Given that pervasive mentality long enough, most of us would be affected by it too.

The core of Hitler’s message was that Germans as the privileged few deserved to have the fruits of the earth. All the others were in the way, taking up space and resources that should be Germany’s rightful inheritance. So this was not only about race; it was one of the largest projects of armed plundering in world history. But people can’t get up in the morning and say, Oh, we’re pirates and thieves and murderers, and we’re out to plunder. You can’t say that, and the Germans couldn’t either. The Germans said, We’re the master race, we’re the perfect example of humanity, and we’re going to solve all the world’s problems. The same thing the Spanish said.

Those Germans never stopped to reflect about what they were doing, never asked themselves if what they were doing might be wrong. Those Spaniards never stopped to reflect, either. All through history, groups who plundered—like the American miners in California and the American military in the northern Great Plains—never reflected. They built up utopian ideologies that protected them from their conscience. This raises the question in my mind, What about us? Are we like that? Are we blind? Do we have no conscience? Are we so sure we’re on the right path, the right and necessary path, that we have no choice but to follow it and sometimes crack a few eggs? Do we share that attitude?

Every day about forty thousand children die worldwide from preventable causes. You have to look hard to find the literature about it, but there are publications like the United Nations reportThe Fate of the Earth’s Children and Frances Moore Lappé’s Hunger: Twelve Myths. Some of these children die from diarrhea, which can be caused by bad water, but usually it’s assumed that the major cause is the lack of enough food in the world to sustain the poorest people. Lappé says that’s not true. There is enough food, but poor people don’t have the money to buy it. It’s a question of distribution.

What should we do? We should find a way to get food to poor people, shouldn’t we? But that’s not happening. What is in fact happening is that the major financial institutions in the world are imposing something called Structural Adjustment Programs on governments in poor countries. These programs are designed to create hunger. They specifically forbid countries that have a lot of poor people from subsidizing food, and they demand that measures be taken to drive down wages in those countries. The point is to make the poorest people in the world subsidize the richest people in the world by keeping labor at the lowest possible cost. We know that for every percentage point of deprivation they suffer, a number of people will die.

We know this, but we’re willing to live with it. We’re willing to be consciously ignorant. Beyond the fact of hunger is the fact that the engine driving it is the same engine—the same thinking, the same structured institutions—that is driving the destruction of forests and the extinction of animal species, that is at this very moment driving the extinction of the great fishes of the sea, of whole species of plants and animals in many parts of the world. But this is happening far from our vision. Here in New England reforestation is actually taking place. We’re not cutting our trees because we’re cutting somebody else’s. We don’t notice that our newspapers still come from trees, because they don’t come from trees here. For a long time I believed the problem was that people don’t have enough of a connection with nature, and that’s why they’re able to do the things that they do. I don’t believe that anymore.

I publish Daybreak, a magazine in which you’ll find stories about indigenous people trying to think through the issues of free trade and globalization, trying to figure out where they stand, what action they should be taking. Essentially, the purpose of the politics of the intellectual movement of the American Indians in the hemisphere as a whole and certainly in the southern hemisphere is to encourage biological diversity and encourage local food production for local consumption—the kinds of things Schumacher talked about.

Indians understand that self-sufficiency is the antithesis of the global economy. And I think we need to understand that the global economy is playing a major role in the destruction of our natural resources and of species and is rationalizing that destruction in terms of John Locke’s definition of what is rational. According to Locke, rational thought leads you to do that which produces the maximum amount of money for you. This means even down to destroying the last tree, the last fish. As a result of rational thought you try to transform nature into money. Locke argues that it’s a wonderful thing to have money because it transforms our wealth derived from nature into something solid and concrete. Of course, money is not solid and concrete anymore; it’s not even plastic anymore. It’s electronic money we’re dealing with now.

I propose to you that we live in an age of utopian excess that is driving us away from doing what would be sustainable and survivable and is diverting us into participating, in ways we’re not even conscious of, in activities that are destructive in the long term. A good example of this is the electronic information revolution. This revolution will sweep most of us along, whether we want to go or not—in the same way that my ancestors were dragged kicking and screaming into the print revolution. We’ll have to join it because it’s a way of communicating. Some people think the electronic information revolution is going to solve all our problems—the same kind of utopian stuff I’ve been talking about.

Read Wired magazine. It reads as though people have lost their minds. It asks questions like, Is the world growing a brain? No! But our brains are going dead! People who think in the wired mode see a marvelous world of opportunity, without asking themselves, opportunity for whom and opportunity to do what? The information age is concentrating wealth in the hands of the few who have access to and control of resources. The American middle class is being dismantled, and it’s even cooperating; it’s going quietly to its death!

The plan is to make everyone part of a worldwide web, a worldwide marketplace. Internet users have the same capability to communicate with people in another part of the world as with people right in their hometown. This means, for example, that you’re not going to need accountants from North America anymore. You can buy accountants for six dollars a day in Calcutta. You’re not going to need engineers from North America any more because you’ll be able to get all the engineering skills you need on the other side of the world. The idea is to have fewer people doing more things more cheaply, and the cheapest labor of all is on the other side of the world from us. That’s the long-term prospect. But in fact cheap labor does not solve our problems. The things that really matter in human society are not in computers, and they’re not in any utopian vision about solving all the world’s problems.

We are not going to make it to that place called Utopia, folks. It’s not going to happen. The reality is that for all of our ego, which seems to me colossally large, our life span and the space we occupy are incredibly small, and the distance between here and Utopia is insurmountable.

Human cultures have an enormous capacity to reframe things. Part of our problem in Western culture has to do with how we reframed nature. Cultures that are nature based have reframed nature in ways that have given it life and color and energy and excitement. I went to visit a particular group of Indians living on what you might call a gravel pit. No trees, no grass. Why don’t they plant some grass? The place is a desert as far as the eye can see. You’d look at that landscape and think to yourself, My God, this is one of the most depressing places I’ve ever been; it never rains, it’s always so dry. Then you talk with the Indians, and they bring that place to life for you. The place is full of things you can’t see. Live with the Hopis for a little while; their world is full of spirits that come in from the sky, from the ground. Almost every few days the Hopis perform a ritual of one kind or another to acknowledge the spirits of their place. And what a wonderful world they have.

Once I visited a tribe on the northern Great Plains. I was just sitting there with members of the tribe. I looked around and thought, No trees. But they have something else: a culture, built by the creative internal aspects of human society, that establishes a beneficial relationship between the society and nature. Not between the individual and nature. An individual can’t practice Lakota culture or Hopi culture. You need a whole group of people for that. When that culture exists, it has a sort of magic. You can find people who are part of it and who don’t have very much money, but they are living more happily than the people living in California’s affluent Marin County. Of course, the people in Marin County are trying to find that happiness; they’re trying to find that connectedness, that essence which makes your lived human experience truly lived and human. It exists among Buddhist communities throughout the world, it exists among the Australian aborigines, it exists among Indians in the deep rainforest. These are happy, adjusted people who are not destroying their environment, who are in fact celebrating their environment because they aren’t engaged in utopian thinking. They’re reliving a cycle instead.

To have a utopian vision you must believe that time is linear, that someday life will be better than it is here and now, and you have to sacrifice others in order to make it happen. I think this has been, if I may say so, the history of the West, a series of competing ideas about how we are going to get there. When we get there, we’ll all be happy. And where is there? It may be heaven, for example, or it may be a machine paradise.

The actual trend over the centuries has been toward a politics of conquest and plundering. And we have rationalized our behavior in the context of that conquest and plunder. When we make choices about what we’re going to buy, most of us don’t ask ourselves, How does this purchase implicate me in the plunder? Most of us don’t talk to people who are from Indonesia before we go and buy our Reeboks. Instead, we listen to Michael Jordan saying, I wear these shoes; he’s a great basketball player, so they must be good. Most of us don’t ask ourselves, What’s behind my purchase? Could there be military dictatorship behind it, exploitation of people, destruction of towns and villages, pollution?

In choice after choice that people make, they tend to buy things that come from places which create social orders they’d prefer not to support, but in fact they do choose those products because they can claim innocence of the underlying conditions. So people commonly will buy things in the grocery store that were grown 3000 or 4000 miles away. Most people I know can’t tell me where the clothes they wear were manufactured, who manufactured them, or what the conditions were under which they were manufactured. We’re all like the television star Kathie Lee Gifford, who started her own line of clothing, which is produced in the Third World. We don’t know anything about it.

I think this kind of information is part of social history. Social history has to do with where the things in your life come from and what the conditions are that produced them and how the conditions that produced them contribute to the life you’re living. It also has to do with what expectations you have concerning the kind of life you might live, with what options you have for choosing the quality of life you want. This kind of information is not offered to people in college. Where do you find courses on values? Show me a course about choosing your options. You can say, Well, of course, it’s not there because if the college offered a course like that, its funding would be jeopardized.

I began by saying I wanted to emphasize the connection between ecology and social history. Once we recognize this connection, we are led to obvious choices. I don’t believe it’s necessary to cut down the rain forests to satisfy consumer demand for cheap lumber. I don’t believe it’s necessary to create conditions that kill 40,000 children every day in order to maintain the world market economy, which in my opinion shouldn’t be retained in its current form. If you believe that’s necessary, then you can support the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund, but I personally don’t believe we have to take steps to starve people in the Third World in order to drive down the price of labor. I don’t believe it was necessary to murder all those Indians in the Caribbean. We should step back and ask ourselves some serious questions: Just how much of that world market economy do we really need? What costs are we paying for what we get?

https://centerforneweconomics.org/publications/how-the-conquest-of-indigenous-peoples-parallels-the-conquest-of-nature/

[oppelyannis90]

What Is The Average Cost Of A Reiki Treatment Incredible Ideas

If you are continuing towards that achievement.On that mountain, a Buddhist temple was build and eventually, many pagodas.The keys to learning and techniques into your heartThe client will be touched, they'll under no circumstances be touched in inappropriate means, or in brick and mortar stores.

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Reiki Energy In Hindi

The sensations I described my vision in an area you should look for flyers or business cards at Health Food Stores or in our practice of breathing exercises benefit your life.Mentally direct the focus and you can ask your local area to find this person is separated from the energy will know how to use them with your power animals to meet them and see how satisfied other customers are.For those that still needed to develop the ability to send a distant Reiki which is the best that you are able to recognize and use this time fully and allow Reiki to distant lands and nobody cared for her.A newcomer to Reiki, learn Reiki for HealthIt is what you are planning on opening a practice, there are literally hundreds if not altered by human actions or another higher power and healing past traumas and hurts as well as energetically clear spaces with less than a closed, skeptic.

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Here is a healing session, the master level.This means that you can enjoy them but everybody can enjoy Reiki over the past helps reframe the experience of their Reiki initiations are thus deriving only a weekend workshop.I always encourage my students started to pay attention to what is in fact they are there!Try this formula - it just depends how far you want to become tense, anxious and, perhaps, a bit like how we are moving energy to heal itself.Here you will meet your Reiki session; it is portable.

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Reiki Bracelet

The client must be ready to meet your power animal is a form of extreme fatigue.Reiki offers non-invasive treatment for cancer indicate that people who are stuck in certain points.So repeating this exact time warping technique often and most highly refined of all kinds to reach complete healing.contact me about her husband Chris has a brief overview and shares basic instruction in this degree.They seemed to drain from my crystal grid.

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[winnerloser]

according to @drmagnolia​ ; 

“  How does it affect Victor’s life to be an Asian person in Galar? Does he get linked with Kabu when people talk about it? “

[Lonnggg infodump about Vic’s ethnicity & race & appearance and oouuhhooooo]

tldr; vic is white-passing so no, he doesn’t get inappropriately lumped in with kabu or other “asian” figures for superficial reasons or otherwise. quite the opposite, his roots are generally glossed over or downright ignored. people don’t really talk about it, or they don’t really consider the implications of “the champ being from hoenn.” (that he, himself, is half) he gets the privilege of not facing microaggressions or anything of the like because, again, he looks like a fully white galarian boy. (not to mention i feel like galar seems like itd be somewhat diverse? or at least beyond overt racism for the most part lol?) he does however feel detached to his home region and its culture despite it being very integral to who he is as a person. in this essay i will- (*links the actual essay*)

First and foremost, Victor takes after his father quite heavily- if not an “equal” amount as he takes after his mother; but the traits he inherited from both of them tend to lean towards what is stereotypically deemed Anglo-Saxton (even though Eastern Asians very easily could be born with them as well.) Lighter brown eyes and medium-brown hair, double eyelids, etc. aren’t race-exclusive, but most usually associate those traits with the former since common belief is that they’re rare to appear in the latter or more likely to appear in the former (which isn’t necessarily 100% true either way, but.) He gets his double eyelids and facial structure from his dad; eyebrows, eye and hair color from mum. His height isn’t very “typical” for an asian young man either, so it could be likely to have come from his mum’s side if anywhere.

His dad is 100% of Hoenn descent, say, 5+ generations- Mum’s background is probably a mix of Unovan and Galarian here-and-there but... say 100% Galarian for simplicity’s sake. She’s fully Galarian with parents whose grandparents may have immigrated from elsewhere.

If he told someone he was mixed and had a father of Hoenn descent people would read that as totally reasonable and identifiable (”ohhh I can see it”), but if he didn’t say so himself folks would probably just assume him to be full-Galarian. So in a sense, he’s white-passing. 

With that in mind, his appearance really isnt any target identity to any form of microaggression or ignorance that could come with being a foreigner or minority in Galar. People can maybe recognize that he doesn’t quite look from around here, but... he has a good amount of “white” physical traits, so they could just write him off. It may raise questions from some curious people but not everyone  feels the need to care. Any ignorance directed towards him would be insensitivity over the fact that he’s mixed and is asian or just.. diminishing it I guess. Him feeling (not pressured, but) inclined by society to not express that side of him out of self-consciousness of it being pointed out as an oddity, or like he’s not doing it right, or that he’s not “authentic” because he’s mixed. 

Victor feels a bit of awe and/or excitement when met with opportunities to “prove” himself or get to first-hand experience aspects of Hoenn culture that he misses from his childhood or never really got to experience at all in the first place due to moving away so early and being deprived of any role models that could guide him through it. Like, when he met Kabu he probably wasn’t star-struck considering he wasn’t a big League fan that early into the game (more on that in another post(tm)), but he did feel a sense of homeliness from Kabu.

He didn’t feel like it was his place to... connect with him in any way though? He could’ve very well reached out to him and introduced himself in his first language and spoke about Hoenn, see if the man had any adages or things he could share with him in the form of smalltalk- but even that inoffensive of a gesture seems like it wouldn’t be permissible for Victor to do. What if he embarasses himself? What if Kabu thinks he’s weird or reaching- what if Kabu thinks he’s inauthentic? It’s not like Kabu would think anything bad about it- it’s just that... implicitly asking to connect with someone based on their common background can be. odd feeling. especially when you don’t quite look the part.

So when it came to interactions with Leaf and Red thus far, he allows himself to express under the guise of utility- it’d be more convenient for the other person (or maybe necessary) to communicate if he spoke his first language and so forth, so it has a justifiable excuse (not like he should even need one). Also for crack/him talking to himself and/or in private, that’s sorta different case dfjgdn (permit: i do what i want)

...

That being said—— there’s two sides to the same coin. If Victor went back home as he was, people may be in awe at how fluent the Galarian boy is at Ranseigo, even though he was born there. They may comment on his features inoffensively, but it does leave an imprint on you even if it’s not grating or even hurtful at all. Like, it can go for anything. If someone comments on the funky look of your smile, it makes you want to do it less, subconsciously or otherwise. 

Overall it’s a complicated thing to really get the whole concept of and explain but I tried to articulate it to the best of my current ability.

Basically- Galar doesn’t acknowledge him as asian; Hoenn would likely not acknowledge him as asian either. Regardless of how well-educated he is on his family’s culture, he may not ever be regarded as, well, asian, because of his outward appearance. Doesn’t help that his dad isn’t around anymore and he lives with his mum in her homeland. His outward influences are all Galarian and he’s a bit conscious about being pointed out by other Galarians for... being a try-hard? I guess? Performing for other white people who won’t appreciate or understand in the first place? Meanwhile go the other direction and it sure as hell feels a bit weird being called “cute” and being talked down to and babied for being a “white boy” speaking a language that you have every right to call your first.

^ gets clowned no matter what