#god I love European history so damn much

[clamorybus]

its not fun to talk about, and i feel like such a dick talking about them like this, but it's fucking sickening how easily swayed my parents are

[thatguywasvaping]

🏎️💨 THE FORMULA 1 TAG GAME! 🏎️💨:

i don't know who else to tag honestly but thank youuu @wisteria-wisteria for tagging me 😉

1. Who or what got you into F1?

i've been wanting to tell this story to someone cuz i think it's so dumb

so well, my dad and my cousins are HUGE f1 fans they always talk about it on the family gc. it was the mexico 2023 gp (we're mexican btw and just like every single men in mexico they love checo) and we all know what happened to checo in that race so they were fuming and honestly i was enjoying it and all the memes on twt

anyway i never really cared about the sport, to me it was just men going vroom vroom in circles for an hour but then the brazil gp came

we were in my grandparents house, i was in the living room and they were watching the race obviously, it was just about to start and then something magical happened that changed my whole life... charles leclerc crashes on the formation lap and i thought omg who's this dumbass 🙄 but then i heard his voice with that sadness you only hear in eastern european gay porn saying "why the fuck am i so unlucky?", i was like damn he's so me, my dad was asking me to traduce what he was saying, i had no context of everything that happened on the season but i could just think damn is this not the first time that it has happened to him? poor bro

then i saw him get lost in the motherfucking woods and i was crying laughing at this point wondering who the hell is this guy?

i made a mental note to search his name on twt later, anyway the race went on and i was actually getting invested in it, i remember my cousins had to leave but they were all i want to see checo pass hamilton bla bla bla and i had no idea who hamilton was but i wanted to see it too it was so exciting. when i got back home i went into a charles leclerc rabbit hole in twt and tumblr and tiktok, then i learned more about all the other drivers and as someone who was lacking content of my man finn wolfhard i was getting bored and seeing this guys being a chaotic mess and getting content of them every weekend i was like fuck it they're my new blorbos especially charles❤️

and now here i am :) the end.

2. Who was the very first F1 driver you supported? Do you support them now? Have your opinions on them differed or stayed the same since then?

i am a charles leclerc girlie and i will always be he's my sunshine i will fight anyone who dares to say something bad about him, i just love him so much he's so determinated and passionate i am so sure he will achieve his dream but he's also very kind, charming, funny. his history is also so amazing to me, his mental strenght is unbelievable and has motivated me to keep going no matter what, he's very dear to me, i admire him so much and i don't think it will ever change because he amazes me more and more everytime.

3. Who’s your current favourite F1 driver?

charlieeee obvi but i've also been very obsessed with max lately they are fighting for p1 in my favorite drivers championship every single day hahahah

maxie poo i love you babygirl 😘

ok but now seriously MAX VERSTAPPEN YOU ARE A FUCKING LEGEND AND DESERVE ALL THE HAPPINESS IN THE WORLD he means a lot to me now too

i love lando and oscar also i hope they achieve amazing things with mclaren they have so much talent and potential i know they will be great

and ofc mi gente latino 🇲🇽✊ checo pérez you are my dad and i support you no matter what also he's so unintentionally funny as max said i'll just call him lovely 😌

4. Is there a driver pairing or pairings you support? What made you attracted to that pairing in the first place?

LESTAPPEN MY GOD when i tell you that i think about them every day i'm not joking at all

my roman empire as the tiktok kids would say

i just love them for the same reasons everyone else does they have been racing against each other for most of their lives and of course they've had their rough patches but they respect each other and love racing together, they push the limits and will do everything to win but they always keep that mutual respect and admiration

i got into them with the inchident video it's just hilarious max being all mad like no it's so unfair 🙄 and charlie being like just an inchident 😘 I CAN'T THEY'RE SO ICONIC LIVE LAUGH LOVE LESTAPPEN we love emotional support rivals

also shoutout carlando, maxiel, charlos, chestappen, landoscar they are so funny love seeing them do stupid shit but also have each others back

5. Do your parents, siblings or relatives have a favourite team and/or favourite driver(s)?

my dad will die for red bull especially for checo, i don't really know my cousins favorite drivers but they like ferrari and one of them has a charles leclerc cap and a valtteri bottas one so i think them

i'm kind of a closeted f1 fan lmao because most of my life i've been like it's so boring just them going in circles but now i'm obsessed but also if i say i like it now they would be like you just like it because the drivers are good looking

and i mean YEAH but fuck just let me enjoy it and it's also my first season i'm still learning give me a break bruh

6. Do you have any favourite races? Are there any that stand out to you the most?

like i said this is my first season and i started pretty late but they first race i ever watched from start to finish was ✨las vegas 2023✨ and as a charles fan i will never forget that last lap where i was mourning p2 already and all like well let's hope for the best on the next race😔 when all of a sudden i see this mf overtaking checo, it was 1am and when i tell you i JUMPED from the couch and started screaming and jumping around, genuinely i will never forget it

7. Do you have a favourite circuit? Can be from the past or from the current calendar.

i don't really know about each circuit that much but i like monaco

8. Have you ever been to an F1 race in real life? Feel free to tell us your experience going to one if you like.

naaahh they're expensive af maybeee one day i'll go to the gp in mexico city but in a very distant future

9. Have you ever met an F1 driver in real life?

i see checo's face in every corner in my city does that count?

10. Do you have a favourite F1 car? If so, what is it?

i like the mercedes' cars just for the mere reason that they look cool to me and since i don't know all the technical stuff i think i could give you a pepper answer once i learn more

11. Do you have a favourite one win wonder?

not really ✌️

12. Do you have any favourite quotes from the F1 world? This can either be inspirational or hilarious.

when max said "i always thought that if i would make it to F1, charles will also make it"

what can i say i love my babygirls

[metella-sedet-in-atrio]

YEAHHHH JOHN LOCKE AND HIS SEXY SEXY SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY SO TRUE BBGORL

[darkthingshappen]

Poster Child: Chapter 2

So, as some of you know, I held a poll for which of my stories would get a continuation. Far exceeding every other story, was the story about Connor and his Pet Lib parents. So, without further adieu, I'd like to introduce you all to Connor's family as they try to find their missing son. This will be a multi-chapter story, most of it from Connor's perspective.

Also, @ashintheairlikesnow is the creator of Karen Renford, who appears with her permission.

This story will contain noncon, but it will be clearly marked when it happens.

TW for this chapter: HEAVY use of ethnic slurs - Connor's handler is a racist bastard. Also, there is HEAVY and frank threats of future noncon.

General warnings for BBU and WRU - Institutionalized Slavery.

As always, I'd like to thank my amazing beta, @whumpcereal for always doing an amazing job and pushing for more detail and depth of my characters.

Tags List: @oddsconvert @sparrowsage @castielamigos-whump-side-blog

Connor Lightfoot could be a little shit.  He hoped his handler was figuring that out.  It had been two weeks since he’d first woken up in the horrible white room, though he didn’t actually know that. He just knew it had been a while. Long enough that his handlers were not impressed with him. He’d refused to cooperate.  It was another thing his parents had drilled into his head.  Don’t obey.  Don’t sign anything.  Don’t give in.  Don’t give up – keep fighting. 

And he had, but God, he was so tired and hungry and sore.  Everything fucking hurt.  He had no way of knowing how much weight he’d lost, but he could tell it was quite a bit.  His arms were thin, the muscled definition all but gone.  He’d been given water through a forced feeding tube.  It wasn’t that he would have refused the water, they just wanted to hurt him. 

He’d been force fed food as well, but only a handful of times.  Enough to keep him alive and that was it. 

It was getting harder though.  Connor was tired of being shocked, tired of everything about this place.  And fuck! He was tired of looking at nothing but white.  Damn it! 

He’d started to wonder what might happen if he cooperated and just pretended that he was broken?  Could he do that?  Connor knew the system was meant to be manipulative.  And one of the first things they would try to make him do would be to sign his life away.  He would not do that.  So, cooperating was out of the question. 

He wondered, though: since it was illegal for WRU to take or accept an application from a Native American, would his signature be legally binding?  Connor didn’t think so, but fuck if anyone around here cared. 

He thought back to one of those first few days.  They’d cut his fucking hair.  He’d cried, but it had been tears of fury.  Anger so bone-crushingly deep he didn’t know what to do other than cry hot, livid tears.  He’d raged and screamed and thrashed.  Now, instead of his long straight black hair, it was cropped short – just long enough to grab onto and drag him around, which they seemed to love doing. 

His long hair had been such a part of his proud Navajo identity.  He wore it well and loved the way he looked.  He loved the way it made him so visibly Native American.   There was no denying who he was, and he loved that.  Even if his last name was Lightfoot, which wasn’t actually Native American.  It was an English or some other European name, one that had filtered into his family through some weird adoption way back in the 1800’s on his dad’s side.  But it was his name.  His family.  And it made him no less Navajo.  Connor was proud of his family history.  

And now the fucking WRU were trying to steal it from him bit by bit.  If nothing changed, they would succeed.  But Connor was determined to not be a part of their success in turning him into one of their box boys.  He would not cooperate in becoming someone’s custom order, someone’s little Indian pet to be shown off at parties.  

Connor tried to flex his muscles from where he knelt on the floor.  If he changed positions, then they would shock him.  Most days when he was just done with their shit, he keeled over and let them shock him unconscious.  It sucked, but at least he got to sleep, and he decided when he was done being tortured. 

The door opened and his handler walked in.  

“Hey there, 787266.”

My name is Connor Lightfoot.  I grew up in Shiprock, New Mexico.  I am a member of the Navajo Nation.  My parents are Daniel and Kai Lightfoot. I am twenty years old.  I attend New Mexico State University.  Connor repeated this mantra every time they called him by his number.  I am not a number.  I am a person, not a pet.  I am a hostage, not a slave.  I am not a box boy.  I will not sign. 

When he did not acknowledge his handler, his collar jolted to life and he screamed into his muzzle.  God, he fucking hated it here. 

“I said, hey there, 787266.”

My name is Connor Lightfoot.  I grew up in Shiprock, New Mexico.  I am a member of the Navajo Nation.  My parents are Daniel and Kai Lightfoot.  I am twenty years old.  I attend New Mexico State University.  I am not a number.  I am a person, not a pet.  I am a hostage, not a slave.  I am not a box boy.  I will not sign…  No fuck off you stupid bastard.

Connor rocked back and forth where he lay on the floor. 

“This is exactly why you’re being transferred, 787266.”

That got his attention. He stopped rocking and looked up at his handler, eyebrows knit together with a question he couldn’t ask.

“So, you do understand us.”

Of course I understand you, you fucking dumbass.  Connor rolled his eyes and then writhed through another jolt of electricity. 

He was so weak and tired, he didn’t even try to move as the aftershocks rolled through him.  He simply glared at the handler, body twitching. 

“You’re being moved to a facility that still does things the… old school way.  It’s smaller and they only handle tough cases.  Your continued lack of cooperation and defiance won’t be tolerated.”

The handler gave him another shock of electricity, just because he could.  “You make me look bad, 787266.”

My name is Connor Lightfoot.  I grew up in Shiprock, New Mexico.  I am a member of the Navajo Nation.  My parents are Daniel and Kai Lightfoot.  I am twenty years old.  I attend New Mexico State University.  I am not a number.  I am a person, not a pet.  I am a hostage, not a slave.  I am not a box boy.  I will not sign. 

The handler came over to him and squatted next to Connor.  He ran the back of his fingers along Connor’s cheek as he spoke.  “It’s the drip for you, Indian boy.  All your defiance is going to be washed away in a drug induced haze.  You’ll cease to be you.  You’ll do as you're told.  You’ll sign your paperwork.  And then you’ll be turned into a good little cock-sucking fuck-toy like every other romantic pet out there.”

Connor’s eyes were wide with terror.  Nothing, absolutely nothing, terrified him more than the drip.  And if they’d known that, they probably could have broken him sooner.  He shook his head, entire body trembling at the thought of being wiped away. 

“Oooh, does that scare you?”

Connor didn’t answer, but he’s sure the handler can see his chest heaving and his breath coming in short, staccato gasps.  Yes.  Yes it scares him. 

“They’re gonna put a needle in your arm and pop that Injun rebelliousness right out of your head.  Doesn’t that sound great, little Brave?” 

Connor felt his cheeks heat up with fury over the slurs and mocking of his culture.  You’re an ass.  A fucking ignorant ass.  Backward piece of shit.  Connor’s eyes blazed with rage.

“Hang on to that rage, little Brave.  You have about two more days before it’s gone forever.  I wonder… can you get to the happy hunting grounds if you don’t even remember that you believed in them?”

The door opened and a second handler came in.  Connor was pulled back into a kneeling position and made to watch as they sat and ate their food.  It smelled amazing, and he was so damn hungry.  Fucking piping hot chicken enchiladas, and was that calabacitas? Bastards.  It was!  He could smell the corn and the squash.  Connor’s mouth watered. 

“Smell something you like, 787266?”  His handler stared at him with a villainous grin.  “I had this flown in special, just for you.  It’s a shame you’ll forget all about this in the next few days.”

Connor watched the two ignorant pigs eat the food until there was nothing left on the plates.  The whole white room was full of the smell of New Mexican cuisine.  They left their empty plates for him to stare at when they were done.  Connor was given nothing.  Again. 

For two days Connor saw no one.  Long hours passed kneeling and chained to the loop in the floor.  His stomach ached with hunger so much so that he was violently nauseated.  His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth, like it was swollen.  He had no energy at all.  And eventually, he could no longer kneel. 

When the door opened and three handlers came in with a force-feeding chair, Connor didn’t fight.  He was almost relieved.  They lifted him up and slammed his frail body into the chair.  The muzzle was taken off, but he was too weak to try and be a smart ass. 

“You’re leaving us today, 787266.  We wouldn’t want you passing out before they administer the drip at the new facility.”

Connor whimpered.  He didn’t want to be erased.  It was illegal.  They weren’t supposed to do it anymore.  They couldn’t do this to him!

Connor did nothing as his head was strapped into place and his mouth forced open.  He tried desperately not to cry as the feeding tube was jammed down his throat, but he was so weak and the tube was so uncomfortable.  His eyes watered, and then the tears wouldn’t stop. 

His handler patted his cheek.  “I told you on that first day here that you would sign, one way or another.  All the trainees sign.  You’re not special.  You’re just stubborn.  You think it was bad here, just wait until you’re at the new facility for troublesome cases and you don’t even know who you are.” 

Connor choked on a sob, his mind spinning.  My name is Connor Lightfoot.  I grew up in Shiprock, New Mexico.  I am a member of the Navajo Nation.  My parents are Daniel and Kai Lightfoot.  I attend New Mexico State University.  I am not a number.  I am a person, not a pet.  I am a hostage, not a slave.  I am not a box boy.  I will not sign.  My name is Connor Lightfoot.  I grew up in Shiprock, New Mexico.  I am a member of the Navajo Nation.  My parents are Daniel and Kai Lightfoot.  I attend New Mexico State University.  I am not a number.  I am a person not a pet.  I am a hostage, not a slave.  I am not a box boy.  I will not sign…

He didn’t know what else to do as he desperately tried to hold on to himself, to hope. 

Connor screamed around the tube in sheer terror when they came at him with a needle.  No!  Not yet!  I’m not ready!  I don’t wanna be wiped.  Please!  No! 

The handler laughed.  “You think one injection and done?  No, 787266.  No, it’s not that easy.  It takes days.  You’ll be whimpering and writhing while your mind shuts down.  And probably puking your guts out.  We haven’t done it at this facility for a while, but I remember.  It’s a sight to behold – to watch all the fight and personality drain out of someone.  I’ve already asked your new handler to take pictures and video every day so I can watch you disappear.”

The handler smiles as he pushes the needle into Connor’s neck.  “This is just going to stop any resistance you might give us.  Don’t worry, you won’t even lose consciousness.  You’ll be fully aware for the entirety of your transportation to the new facility.”  He chuckled.  “I say new.  It’s actually quite old.  It’s off the books now, listed as decommissioned.”  He patted Connor’s face.  “I’m sure you’re going to love it there.  And after you’ve been wiped and learned the basics, they're gonna ship you right back here for your romantic training.  So, this isn’t even goodbye.  I’ll see you again when you’re ready to learn how to properly fuck and suck.  You won’t remember me, but I’ll remember you.”

Tears rolled down Connor’s cheeks, but the meds had started to take effect.  He could feel everything.  But he couldn’t move.  The tube was yanked from his mouth and his throat burned where it had been.  His mouth was still dry.  Why couldn’t they have let him have a taste of water, instead of just pumping it into him?  Right!  Because they’re fucking bastards. 

A stretcher was brought into the room and Connor was lifted onto it.  He was strapped down and he didn’t miss the way his handler let his touch linger too long on his thigh, moving up slowly over his groin before securing his chest strap.  Connor wished the creep would try something in a fair fight.  He’d fucking tear his privates off.  But none of this was fair.  The system was stacked against him.  It’s why his parents were in hiding and monsters like the handler roamed free. 

The muzzle was secured back onto his face.  Hmmph.  At least I’ll get to see something other than this damn white room, Connor thought bitterly. 

FUCKERS!  They strapped a fucking blindfold over his eyes.  From white to black instantaneously.  Connor would have sobbed had he not been paralyzed. 

Connor heard his handler laughing.  “They always think they’ll get something other than a white room.  No such luck, Brave Little Injun.  The next thing you see will be the white room at your new facility.”  His handler kissed his forehead.  “Until you return, my little brave.”

Connor wanted to scream, to rage.  And he did, in his head.  But even he knew it was a show.  Connor Lightfoot wasn’t scared, he was terrified.

[relax-and-read-on]

I have to ask: What is your modern AU Headcanons For the primarchs. You know where everything Is NORMAL.

Ohboyohboy

That is... SO MUCH

Okay, just. Lemme get the basic ones down

BIG E: The emperor did *not* have 18-21 iligitimate kids. Instead, he own a huge appartment building downtown,and the way he choose his tenant is... Mysterious. The bros are all neighbor and more or less hate each others. There are monthly building hang out, and somehow they are all forced to participate. Currently happening in like... Random Ass Town, USA.

Roboute: His dad is a senator, his mom run a charity. He could ABSOLUTELY get a better appartment... But he love the location, and he does enjoy the weird insane vibes of everyone else. Will help Big E organise the community activities. Work as a lawyer specialised in taxation law, because he's a NERD.

Leman: Always seem to get a job and be fired two weeks later. Somehow always have money. Has TWO GIANT FUCKING DOG BRO ARE THOSE WOLFS in his 1 bedroom appartment. They are suspiciously well behaved. Will open the door fully naked. A lot of people miss identifie his runic tattoo and assume it's some white power bullshit, and he correct this by breaking their jaw.

Lion: He's european. No one is sure wich part of europe exactly, but bets are on Austria or France. The kind of man who probably relate to the Sigma Male meme. At least this time he's a bit more out of the closet... Use grindr like a pro, and def met Leman on it. Work as a Manager in an Office. Where? How? Whom? No one fucking know.

Mortarion: work as a lab tech, mostly taking care of the test animals. A TON of chronic health issues. Him home is filled with plants, vivarium and paludarium. Very quiet, he gets quite fussy about noise level. Was probably born in a cult and ran away at like. 16. Pescatarian. Wants to be more friendly but has no idea how.

Angron: He's a physiotherapist. He WILL make you cry, but by the gods you will be better after a few weeks. Volunteer at a few places. Do a lot of meditations and yoga, wich he learned in anger management place. Came from a horribly abusive home, and was in locked down youth center from 12 to 18. Very happy to be out of the system and has some STRONG opinion on over-sentencing. Rocking some badass dreads. Brazilian.

Magnus: Egyptian, vegetarian, and somehow still in college. Doctoral candidate and no one can clearly figure out what he actually do. It's something about the perception of human consciousness throu history. He has SUCH long red braids, no one believe that they are natural. Has a lot of weird new ages beleive and will try to make you come with him to his Reiki class.

Ferrus: He's Lakota and an industrial engineer. He does traditional metal artwork in his spare time. Incredibly in love with his husband, he "convinced" big E to let him fuse teo of the appartment together so that Fulgrim could build "the perfect work room". Has heavily tattooed forearms.

Fulgrim: He's chinese, and albino, and so god damn gay. Work as an interior designer, but actually build a lot of his design element himself, he's That Good. Dress like he stole a broadway closet and murdered a few ostrich on top. Genderfluid af, rock a cheongsams like no one else. Met Ferrus and informed him that they would get married like. 15 minutes in.

Alpharius/Omegon: The twins that live together. Some beleive that there us only one of them. Leman swore they are triplet. They are never seen together. They both work from home, and get WAY too much food delivery. Most of their job is running semi-legal crypto bullshit and nft trading scam. Talk 90% of the time in memes. Still not over vines.

Sanguinius: Syrian refuge. He doesn't want to talk about it. Currently work at an animal rescue, wich does wonder for his PTSD. Met Horus the first day he turned up in america, and the dude literally gave him an appartment. It took some time for him to trust again, but now he's hapillly in a relationship with Horus, and they live LITERALLY across the corridor from each others.

Horus: Eastern european, maybe Croatian.... And possibly run the local mafia. Has WAY too much money. He would be scary, if he wasen't so damn friendly with everyone and such a fool for Sanguinius. Kind of an asshole, but like, in a lovable way??? May or may not be the son of the landlord. Like to joke that he has a hitman on speed dial.

Konrad: He just... Showed up one day. Used to be homeless, and no one know exactly since when he was in the street. It took some time and a lot of effort from everyone, but he was able to enrol in school to get SOME diploma, and seem hyper focused on criminal justice. Talk to himself a lot. Will someone appear in other people home uninvited like he was always supposed to be there. Somehow, speak russian.

Corvus: Computer enginering goth trans woman who never leave her home. Yes, she has cat paw tigh high socks. And a crow Fursona. No, you will never see either. Somehow always have the best weed. Was raised on a commune by hippies, and she still call her parents often. She hate going outside and socialising, but she still has too.

Rogal: The handyman of the place. Everything get fixed in a timely manner, but he WILL tell you EXACTLY what you did to break the thing. Went to school with Perturabo to be a civil engineer, but found out that fixing buildings is more fun. Wear exactly the same outfit everyday, and eat the same breakfast, and in general has the strictest routine. Of swedish decent.

Lorgar: Algerian berber, and raised muslim (most specifically Ibadi faith). Currently doing high level theological study, and try REALLY hard to not be preachy about his religion. His home is the most transformed one, stepping inside transport you fully in Ghardaia. His door is often open, as he beleive in being welcoming and helping all. Often have late night study sessions with Magnus, with mint tea and good shisha.

Jaghatai: Mechanic at a local garage, specialise in bikes and muscles cars. Has the most BEAUTIFUL vintage chopper. First generation immigrant, he was legit born in central mongolia. He firmly believe that most of his neighbor are underfed, and as such, keep bringing large traditional homemade meals. Fulgrim love them.

Vulkan: Rwandais! And a machinist!! He send a lot of his money back home to his family. Loud, social, and so damn charming. He miss his large extended family, and he ends up socialising with the others most night. His appartment has rooftop access, and he spend a crazy amount of time up there. Grill the best barbecue. Always complain that its too cold.

Perturabo: Australian. Went to the same class the dorn, and he's SO MAD that the fucker had the GALE to get better grade but choose to become a HANDYMAN?!? work way too hard at a job he hate, and watch too much shitty reality tv to forget his pain. He's terrible at interacting with others, and usually come up as a rude asshole.

[phykios]

If I Were A Blackbird, part 9 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

For three days, Percy had gone back to his room in the evening, taken out his phone, and stared at the name Annabeth Chase in his contacts. He’d toyed with the idea of changing it a few times to Princess Annabeth. Or maybe just adding a crown emoji or something. But he’d done nothing, save for closing his phone, and sighing with relief when Jason showed up and he no longer had the space for a long, quiet, private conversation with… no one. 

But on that third day, he had nothing to do. It was a rest day, with no practice, press things, or even friend’s events to watch. Jason was right on the cusp of his big race, so he wasn’t even around to distract him. 

And as the hours dragged on, the name in his phone could not be ignored.

He’d called his mom. He’d facetimed Estelle, managing to avoid Paul for royal watcher reasons. Luke was technically at work, but they’d spent an hour or so texting. He’d even IMed Nico about his travel plans.

All his attempts to reach out to Rachel had ended with her asking if he’d called his princess back yet. 

He was basically down to messaging Thalia, who would be rightly pissed if he interrupted her in the middle of something important, or breaking down, and actually calling Annabeth. Just to talk to her. Just to hear her voice.

So he listened to half a podcast on the history of the Byzantine Empire. But he could not focus, barely making it through half an episode on the history of the Fourth Crusade. Not when Annabeth’s phone number waited for him. 

He tried to imagine what she would even say to him, if he called to talk. In your dreams? Thanks for the memories? 

For that matter, what would he even say to her? 

The minutes ticked on. He watched his battery drain, ever so slowly, rubbing his thumb across the screen every time it threatened to go to sleep. It was just after 3 pm when, finally, he hit her name on his contact screen, and listened to it ring. 

After two rings, he was ready to give it up. This was a stupid idea. She didn’t want to talk to him. She was screening his calls. She had something more important to do. She didn’t…

“Hello?” 

And his heart jumped.

He’d almost expected her to sound different. More princess-y? What were princesses supposed to sound like? More European, at least. He still didn’t hear much of an accent from her. 

“Percy?”

Oh, shit, he hadn’t meant to not say hi.

“Oh, did you not mean to call?” 

Oh, shit, he hadn’t meant to swear! “No,” he said, quickly, “no, I just… I didn’t really expect you to pick up.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, sounding… confused. Or sad. Maybe. 

“Cause… I figured you had more important things to do than talk to me,” he said. 

“I always want to talk to you,” she said, simply, and with a palpable conviction, even over the phone. 

He blushed, even though she couldn’t see it. How do you even respond to something like that? “Me too,” he said, then immediately had to physically sit on his hand so he didn’t smack himself. Fucking idiot. 

But she laughed, a tinkling, musical thing. Like stars strewn across a dark sky, pointing the way to shore. 

He let out a laugh too, shaky, but firm. “So… am I going to be put on some government watchlist for calling you?”

She laughed again, a soft chuckle. Gods, her laugh was the same as he remembered it. And so damn pretty. “I don't really know how to tell you this, but they've already run like four background checks on you.”

That was… something. Not exactly surprising. But still not something he’d considered. “So… find anything good?” he asked, partly out of a sense of preservation, because boy, did he have some wacky stuff in his background. 

“We have determined,” she said. Was that the Royal We he had heard so much about? “That you, Percy Jackson, are a sailor, a historian, and an upstanding gentleman who loves his family and his sport.” 

Oh. Well that was nice.

“My dad was very impressed by your academic background, too,” she added.

“Oh.” Her dad was impressed. He had impressed her dad, the future king of Sweden. If Paul were here, he would have had a coronary. “Anything else?” Hopefully he would impress the future queen, too.

“Yes. We determined that you were also devastatingly handsome.” 

“Well… that’s nice.” He had expected flirting even less than the future king of Sweden being interested in his academics.

“Were you expecting them to find something?” 

Talk about loaded questions. He was suddenly extremely thankful for all the times Luke had been there during a run in with the police. No one ever caught Luke up to anything. And some minor larceny had never been Percy’s modus operandi on his own, anyway. “Not really,” he said instead. “But, ah… got any weird holes I might be able to fill?” he offered up, thinking about a rather glaring one, and wondering what her people might have come up in the father-sized void in Percy’s life.

“Yeah, actually.” He thought he could sense a light layer of trepidation in her voice, hidden beneath her casual tone. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to listen to her voice for hours, mining for every hidden meaning and nuance. “Your father? His name’s not on your birth certificate.” 

“So,” Percy said, “before I actually tell you,” sort of, “I want to state, for the record, that it is super weird that you know that.” 

“Sorry.” 

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” he said, sitting up as the tone of her voice dropped. “It’s okay, I totally get it. And I’m sure Swedish James Bond has a gun trained on me right now.” 

She laughed again, maybe a little bit more subdued. “You aren’t that big a deal.” 

“Ouch,” he grimaced. “That is just what my ego needed to hear.” 

“Good. Girls like a little humility, especially from a sports star-turned-influencer.”

“Do they? I thought they were into bad Olympic puns and blue sandwiches.”

“Some of the weirder ones, maybe.” 

“Nah,” he said, “only the ones worth knowing.”

She was silent, for a moment. He imagined her maybe sitting on her hotel bed, a mirror image to him, holding her phone, and smiling down at it. At his words. He imagined her lips as they curved upwards, highlighting her strong cheekbones, little crinkles at the corner of her gorgeous eyes. 

He coughed, dry and useless. “Anyway, um… my dad.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she said, extending him the same grace he had given her earlier.

“It’s okay,” he said. “If it helps, I don’t mind.”

And she didn’t push back against it.

Percy sighed, leaning back against his headboard. “My dad… He’s… I don’t even know how to describe him.”

“What does he do?” 

He had a sudden image of Annabeth at a desk, pencil in hand, bent over and furiously scribbling away in her Percy dossier. It had hearts all over it, and a cartoon valkyrie on the front. The mental picture made him smile. “He’s kind of a bum. He fishes a lot, but other than that… I’ve gone fishing with him a few times, but,” he shrugged, “I’ve really had next to no contact with him.”

She hummed over the phone, sympathetic. “Does that bother you?”

“Not really,” he scoffed. “My dad’s the kind of asshole who had a fling with an eighteen year old girl who was completely alone in the world, and then didn’t even stick around long enough to put his name on the birth certificate.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not. And I don’t need you to be sorry about him, either,” he said. “It’s just… you know when you spend your whole life swinging wildly between cursing someone’s name and wanting nothing more than their acknowledgement and approval?” 

“Yeah,” she said, softly, and with more than a little bitterness. “Yeah, I do know that feeling.”

“Things are good with your dad, though, right?” He prodded, softly. Her dad. Prince Frederick. Future king of Sweden. 

“He’s only about half of it.” 

Ah. “Your mom?” 

“Mmhmm.”

“Wikipedia said she died when you were a baby.” He cringed as soon as he’d said it, as absolutely nothing from that sentence worked on any level.

Annabeth actually snorted in response. “Want to talk about weird? Cite my Wikipedia page.” 

“Well, you were probably breaking down my high school transcript with Maxwell Smart before I even knew you had a Wikipedia page. So there.” 

“Oh, yes, I was very disappointed by that B+ you got in Latin.” 

“That was my teacher’s fault for scheduling the midterm the day before my swim meet.”

She sobered. “Percy, I was kidding. I haven’t seen anything like that. I… doing checks on you wasn’t my idea, I swear,” she said. “It was more a… preventative measure once the pictures got out. I only knew about the thing with your dad because it was mentioned in the debrief.”

“You had a debrief on me, and my calls are still allowed to come through?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” she said. So damn earnest. His heart skipped another beat. “And I didn’t mean to be weird about your father. I just… I do know what it's like to be missing a parent and to desperately want their approval, and also to hate that they aren’t there for you.” 

“Did your dad ever look at you, and you knew he was seeing your mom, and it kind of crushed you?” Percy asked, quietly. It hadn’t happened a lot, not really. But every time he’d noticed it, he’d felt it in his chest. He’d felt guilty about it, too, which was why he’d never mentioned it to Luke. Luke had so much worse to deal with on the mom front than he did. It hadn’t seemed fair to bring it up. 

She sighed, heavy, world weary, and tinny. “He did.” 

“It sucks.” 

“It does,” Annabeth agreed. “Is… I saw that you had a stepfather. What’s he like?”

In his mind’s eye, he was at his mother’s wedding again, walking her down the aisle, and trying not to cry at the naked love and adoration on his stepfather’s face. “Paul’s amazing,” he said. “He’s just what my mom always deserved.” She’d avoided relationships for so long, devoting so much of herself to taking care of Percy and May and Luke. He couldn’t even really remember her having a lot of friends. He’d been so happy when she’d seriously started working on her writing again, and then going back to school. And then when she’d met Paul, and they’d gotten serious, he’d been absolutely thrilled for them.

“Oh,” said Annabeth, taken aback. “I… I’m glad.”

Oh. “Um… I guess you and your stepmother… uh…” He trailed off, unsure how to continue his thought without accidentally insulting a member of the royals. Somehow, Paul would sense it, and then he’d probably have a heart attack. 

Annabeth sighed. “You don’t want to hear about my messy family politics.” 

“I think family politics for royalty might just be normal politics.” 

“That’s my point,” she said, tiredly. Percy figured maybe she had tread this ground before, maybe even hundreds of times–with her family, with her friends, with her country, even. She had no reason to rehash it, and especially not with him. 

But. “I love my stepdad,” he said, “and he's awesome for my mom. But, also, when I was two, my mom started working for my Aunt May, who we later found out had a relationship with my paternal cousin. I am pretty familiar with weird, fucked up families.” Even giant, old, European ones. Though he didn’t say that part. “So, if you want to vent, or something… I can listen. I don’t mind.” 

She didn’t say anything, not for a long time. But he could still hear the gentle static of the ambient noise of her room. Sitting here, together, in silence, separated only by a phone signal, it was strangely, wonderfully intimate. 

“I don’t really want to,” she said, after a few minutes. 

“Of course. You don’t have to share anything with me.” 

She sighed. “It's not that. It's more just like… I want to talk to you about happier things. Things I actually like. I may not like my stepmother, but I do like you.” 

Percy smiled, slow and creeping, even though she couldn’t see him. “You… like me?” 

“I do,” she said. “Do you like me?”

“I do.” 

And if either of them noticed that those sounded like the responses at a wedding, they didn’t say it out loud. 

“So,” Annabeth said, the noises over the phone making it sound like she was readjusting her position. Maybe she was snuggling into bed, pulling a blanket over her, her hair spread out over her pillow as she relaxed. “What are you up to, today?”

“It's a rest day,” he said. “With the big race coming up, I have to relax at least a little. I have one every two or three days, but my last rest day fell on the equestrian event, so I went and watched my cousin. And my other cousin Nico was there, so we had fun.” He was finally going to get to properly see Nico at dinner tonight, which was good. And Nico hadn’t given him any shit about the whole princess thing. Which was doubly nice. Though, Percy couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t because of the whole countess for a mother thing, or because he’d spend so much time in his father’s court. 

“But not today?”

“Not today.” Nico and Hazel were celebrating her silver together. And he’d been invited, but with that kind of reluctant vibe that made it clear the siblings wanted some sibling time, at least until dinner. “What about you? Don’t you have some babies to kiss, or some war to avert, or some village to sack?” 

***

She laughed, despite herself, her head back against her pillow. “I wish,” she said. “You could come with me. We’d sack up and down the coast.” 

“You think I’d be good in a fight?” He asked, a smile in his voice. 

And yeah, actually, she did. But she wasn’t sure why. “You did mention fencing in an interview, right?” 

“You watched my interview?” 

“Wikipedia,” she quickly responded. That was going to be a good get out of jail free card so she didn’t look like a total stalker. At least for a while.

“Well, I did do some fencing, both standard style and more of a–period style, for a time. People tell me I’m not half bad with a sword.” 

“Neither am I,” she said, “We should have a go, sometime.” 

“Oh, I’d like that very much,” he said, his voice tipping down an octave or so. 

Color rising in her cheeks, she changed the topic. “I was–I was actually thinking about the boat thing. Vikings were seafarers, as much as anything. I bet you could get me to all the most well-stocked monasteries.” 

“Well, I’ll admit I’m better in salt water, then fresh, and I know the vikings liked to go up river.” His voice was so bright, like he was talking to a normal girl, a regular old twenty-something who was chatting up the boy she liked, asking if he were down to do some pillaging. “But I bet I could handle a longboat. I’ve managed a lot of boats in my time. I could get you anywhere you want to go.”

“Guess you should have run away with me that day in the marina. We could be living large by now, viking down the coast of Florida.” 

“I do hate Miami,” he said.

For a moment, she could picture it: him, her, a boat, and the open waters. No shitty family to hold them down. No reporters to trail their every step. No responsibilities beyond each other. “I’m sorry, Percy.” The words tripped out of her, like a runner out of the gate. “I’m so sorry that I dragged you into all this.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not.”

He sighed. “I guess not. But I understand.” 

“You do?” she asked, twisting the blanket around her finger. “You’re… not mad?”

A pause. “Maybe I am, a little bit.”

She swallowed. “Makes sense,” she mumbled. “I did lie to you. I’m really, really sorry. I should have told you the truth from the beginning.” 

He actually let out a little laugh. But it wasn’t his normal, buoyant, grinning laugh. It was wry, instead. A little dark. A little guarded. “That’s not why I’m mad.” 

“It’s not?”

“Of course not,” he said. “Look, I’m not, I don’t think, unreasonable. You had no reason to tell me at the beginning. Honestly, it would have sounded like a line. And as hard as it is for me to believe, we did only just meet a little while ago.” And that was the truth, wasn’t it. They’d only just met, not even more than a month ago. They’d known each other for so little time… but it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. “And I’m not entitled to all your secrets. Just like you’re not entitled to all of mine.” 

“You have secrets?”

“Of course I do, Annabeth. Gods, yes, I have secrets. And I like you–a lot. But I’m not–I don’t want to share them all with you right now. And I’ll always extend to you the same courtesy.” 

“Oh,” She said, a wave of curiosity bubbling up in her. A desperation to know. To find out. He’d learned her secrets, after all. But then again, not all of them. Not even the juiciest of them. But, then… “So, why are you mad?”

She heard him blow his breath out, tinny and staticky. “Because… Look, I totally get not wanting to give me the whole story. I’m sure starting off with ‘Hey, I'm a princess and I have security and sometimes the press follows me around’ would have been intimidating. But we didn’t have to go somewhere so public as a movie theater. Or even just walking around the city. I would have happily kept up seeing you in private places.” 

And then, a second fantasy, even more whimsical than the first. They were walking down the streets of Stockholm together on a bright, sunny afternoon, holding hands. She closed her eyes, willing it away.  

“I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me you were a princess. I’m still scared the Swedish government is going to put out a hit on me, but I’m not mad about that. But I am mad that you put me in a really shitty situation with the paps and Twitter and the world, when you knew better, and I didn’t.” 

“I’m sorry,” was all she could say in response. It was not enough. 

“Me too,” he agreed. “I… I can’t say it's okay. Or that it isn’t a big deal. But I know you didn’t mean to do it. So, that helps. I can take negligence over cruelty any day.”

“Still.”

“Yeah. But I’ll get over it.” 

“Soon?” And it was such a dumb, childish thing to ask. 

“Probably,” he said. “You’re pretty cute.” 

“I thought I was beautiful?”

“That, too.”

“Well,” she said, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling too hard, “if… if you want something private… You said it was a rest day. I could send my driver to pick you up. I’ve got a princess suite and I can get you almost any kind of room service for dining.” 

“Almost?”

“Well, I haven’t tried everything yet.” Or… “Or, if you wanted… Maybe I could give you something better to eat.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

Sense memory reared its head, the tug of his lip between his teeth, the feel of his hair in her hands. “I think it could easily be arranged.” 

He hummed across the phone, vibrating into her ear. “I like the sound of that. Tell me more.” 

“This bed is awfully big,” she said, lowering her voice to match. “And I’ve been in it all by myself for days now.” 

“No other Olympian gentlemen callers?” He asked. 

She shook her head. “No one else would help me sack Palm Beach. What use would I have for them?”

“Is that all I am to you? Some muscle? A tongue and a pair of thighs?” 

He didn’t sound too put out at the idea. “But what strong thighs they are, and what a talented tongue. I’ll give you a sword, if you want.”

“But I already have a sword.” 

Boy did he. It reminded her of her favorite dagger, actually. It wasn’t the biggest or flashiest. But it could get into where it needed to go. And do all sorts of damage once inside. 

If Percy had taught her anything, it was that the old saying was true: it wasn’t the size of the wave, it was the motion of the ocean.

“I mean, I do really have a sword, but… that’s not what you meant… uh…” And now he was all tongue tied and adorable and he was probably blushing and she was so blindly desperate to see him. And his sword. Metaphorical or not.

“Um,” she confidently began her offer, “I can call Hans, my driver from the other night, to go pick you up. Sound good?”

But she was not met by any more delicious flirting or awkward stammering. Just a long moment of silence that got longer and longer. 

And his voice had returned to its normal, pleasant tenor when he said, “Maybe we should pump the brakes a bit.”

“Oh.” And she knew she couldn’t keep her deep deep disappointment out of it. 

“Not–not for long,” he rushed, “just… maybe until after the Olympics are over.” Another three weeks. She felt her heart jump into her throat. 

It was probably the smart thing to do. She was working. They were both working. But, then again, the idea of waiting on pins and needles for the rest of this pomp and circumstance was not exactly her idea of a good time. “Sure,” she said, eventually. “That sounds good.”

“Thanks.” 

But, she supposed it was worth it, just to hear the relief in his voice. She could give him a little more time to think about it before dragging him down with her into her world. 

“I should probably warn you, while you think about things,” and she hated to do this, but it was only fair. “Things might calm down a little, but speculation, attention, media stuff. It won’t go away. Even after the Olympics. So… you should probably consider that, while you’re deciding if this is a thing you want to get involved in.” 

“I think you misunderstood,” he said. “I’m not deciding about anything. I’ve made up my mind. I am so down to date you.” The grin that broke out on her face could have left a permanent scar, her heart jumping in her chest. “I just… I need some time for my races. And maybe to warn my mom.” 

“You’re really cool with this.” It was kind of unbelievable. It was kind of amazing. 

“Should I not be?” 

“No, I’m just… surprised, I guess. But, pleasantly.”

“Would you believe me if I said that the hot girl I was seeing turning out to be a princess isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me?”

She paused. Because not really, no. And then Piper’s words came wiggling into the back of her mind.

“So, I have to ask,” she finally said, hating every word that was about to come out of her mouth. “Are you a secret prince?”

“...Am I what?”

“Like, maybe of some dynasty that lost its power in the wake of one of the world wars? Or maybe in the German Unification?” 

There was a long moment of silence. 

“Is…” He didn’t seem sure how to respond. “Um… is that a thing that happens?”

“Not in my experience,” she admitted, “no.” But stranger things had happened. 

“I mean… there’s a family legend that my mom’s mom’s family was descended from the Byzantine emperors,” he said. “But other than that… probably not.” 

“Probably?”

“Anything’s possible, right? But really, no. I promise, I am just a Connecticut Yankee in Princess Annabeth’s Court.”

“That’s so fucking cute,” she said. “I hate that.” 

“Thank you. I try very hard.”

“I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Definitely, princess.” 

She shuddered. “Annabeth.” 

“What?”

“Please, just… call me Annabeth. All the time, but especially if you’re just talking to me.” Beneath her blanket, she curled her legs up, tensing her toes against the soft fabric.“I can do that, Annabeth,” he promised, and she felt like she could breathe again. “I can do that.”

[shepherds-of-haven]

OBSESSED with Shepherdton, which means I've been thinking of how to work my evil lil MC(s) into it... but i don't like researching real history so... Blest history question times instead!! Specifically for the Southern countries/Islands... Which country is most likely to have a town of women building weapons ala Princess Mononoke? (Elinden? Four factions!? What's going on with Kresh?) The truce dependent marriage makes me want to have a bit of War-tension 😄 Also are the races of SHoH in this (minus mage for obvious reasons) or is real world equivalent stuff? I'm wondering for cultural reasons bc Banquets need FOOD and I still want to write snippets about all the food on patreon lol also are the Sesz Isles mountainous? Bc of the Khav? ALSO thank you for the anthony to chase parallels bc i love a man who says he doesn't want to be in love and then Does It Anyway (dramatically too) 🥰🥰🥰

I love it! I'm imagining the Shepherdton!verse as taking place in a different geography than either Blest or Europe, so the Southern isles don't really exist as such (but neither do Spain or France??), so you can really make anything you want up! I kind of picture it like this:

With Ayla and Briony coming from the Ibarran Alliance, Croelle being an emissary from the Jeritzan Theocracy, and MC coming from either Hypolita or Damar, take your pick! (Or you can invent a country of your choosing off the map, too.) And "London" is based in the Kingdom of Albion: you can also call it Gladstone City if you want, depends on how AU you want to get with it or how closely you want to stick to Bridgerton! I'm borrowing heavily from other AUs/stories I've cobbled together in the past lol.

So Shepherdton!verse is not really drawing much from the cultures we know in our Blest! To answer your question, though, Kresh would probably be your best bet for a Southern Isle that has a Princess Mononoke-style town! Elinden would also be a good choice, but Kresh is rather wild and untamed, while Elinden is heavily contested and explored by different factions, so Kresh gives you more freedom to invent your own thing if you want!

I go back and forth on whether or not magic/Diminished stuff is present in this world! Initially it was not and it was more heavily following the rules of Bridgerton, so no Mages or Ket or Diminished or Norms; but sometimes when I'm playing around, I like a world where magic is a thing, it's just not a thing in Albion, but is really commonplace over in Ibarra and those other nations. It's like not common for London natives to have magic, but it's also not so out-of-the-ordinary that it's like a huge deal, if that makes any sense? Kind of like 19th-century Europeans being like "damn I heard some guy named Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone and they're like using that over in America" "oh really? that's crazy" or "oh wow I didn't realize tea is brewed totally differently in India and China, isn't that interesting?" rather than like "oh my god magic???" ...If that makes any sense? It's kind of just like a thing they do "over there" in those foreign cultures and is interesting for like parlor tricks at parties and stuff, and is just seen as a cultural difference or quirk, but it's not like a really huge deal otherwise. Viewed about the same as finding out that women in Ibarra are allowed to ride and shoot, magic is also just another "thing" they do over there that isn't really done in Albion.

And then sometimes I branch off of that and I'm like "okay but what if magic is a bigger deal and like all noble families covet marriages that might produce Mage children, but only women can practice it" or something wild like that, just to make the whole arranged marriage thing even crazier and more dramatic... and there's like whole marriage markets where bachelorettes are pursued not for their accomplishments in dancing or their beauty, but for their demonstrated power and talent in magic LOL

ANYWAY as you can see, I'm just going hog-wild with it hahaha, but I don't have any strict rules about how this world works, I just go with whatever strikes my fancy and produces the Maximum Drama for the situation at hand right now!! In terms of culture, I'm imagining Albion as kind of gaslamp-y Regency England, Ordelay as a mix of Wales and France, Ibarra as a pretty hot forested country with a wild exotic mix of Mage, Elf, and Ket cultures, Damar as being more Northern Blest and kind of strict and austere and leaning more towards Ket and Hunter sensibilities, Hypolita as more Southern Crescent/Conte/Sesz Isles vibes with heavy Mage and Elf influence, and the Jeritzan Theocracy as more rocky and mountainous and kind of a mix between Lindell and like Vim and the Waste, somewhere thereabouts!

I'm really just throwing everything into a pot and making things up as I go along lol so honestly feel free to discard any of this!!! The Sesz Isles are somewhat mountainous and green (think Hawaii), though most of their cities are on the coasts, and a lot of them are also just tropical beachy or flat rainforest as well!

Anthony owns my life right now so of course I had to make the Rake parallel between him and Chase! 😭 And both would be so dramatic about it!

[therealvinelle]

Carlisle and theology

So, there are a lot of thoughts in this fandom on Carlisle’s brand of faith, and Carlisle seeing vampirism as inherent sin, and it’s time for this Christian philosophy nerd to butt in, featuring all the quotes.

First of, let me do my usual disclaimer - the Carlisle of the books is not the Carlisle of the movies. Carlisle of the movies believes he’s damned, because while the movie does mostly quote the conversation from the books, they cut him off halfway through, completely changing the meaning. Book Carlisle is making an argument, and his conclusion is the opposite: vampires have souls.

"Edward's with me up to a point. God and heaven exist… and so does hell. But he doesn't believe there is an afterlife for our kind." Carlisle's voice was very soft; he stared out the big window over the sink, into the darkness. "You see, he thinks we've lost our souls." (New Moon, page 20)

Later in the same book when Edward believes he has died and gone to heaven, his first words are: “Carlisle was right.”

So, book Carlisle doesn’t believe they’re all damned. If he did, creating others would be to damn them. If he had doubts about their souls and decided to risk it anyway, his “I made vampires” angst would be about their souls. It’s not:

"(Choosing to turn others) is the one part I can never be sure of. I think, in most other ways, that I've done the best I could with what I had to work with. But was it right to doom the others to this life? I can't decide." (New Moon, page 21)

was it right to doom the others to this life.

He says nothing about their souls. His issue is the life they’re now living because of him: “was it right to turn others into bloodsucking demons, all of whom have a body count?”

Which is a very fair question, I’d be wondering that too. Edward, Emmett, Esme, and Rosalie are all murderers, they live in the constant pain of bloodlust, they must live in this very particular way or be nomads, and they’re not truly immortal, for sooner or later death will come in the brutal form of being torn apart and burned. Not to mention both Edward and Rosalie have very ambivalent feelings about what they became.

Carlisle wondering if turning them was the right call appears to have nothing to do with religion, and everything to do with the pragmatic reality of what it means to have created a vampire.

But if Carlisle doesn’t believe vampires are damned, what does he think then?

His backstory, admittedly told through Edward (who projects a lot onto Carlisle), is helpful.

His strength returned and he realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster he feared. Had he not eaten venison in his former life? Over the next months his new philosophy was born. He could exist without being a demon. He found himself again. (Twilight, page 160)

Carlisle had been raised to believe in witches and demons, eternal damnation for the wicked and the whole shebang. He wakes up a vampire and he knows what this means, he is now a senseless monster who kills people. 

Well, turns out this isn’t the case. He doesn’t have to kill people. More, he still has his faith in God, which by protestant doctrine is what you need to enter Heaven. (This right here is one big bone I have to pick with fanon Carlisle. People keep ascribing a very Catholic brand of theology onto him, as he believes existence is sin and one must do penance. He’s Anglican, and Anglicans adopted Protestant doctrine. Protestant salvation comes through faith.)

Now, if his existence doesn’t automatically lead to sin, and if he is still in command of himself, able to believe in God and be devout, who’s to say he’s damned?

The urge to kill people remains present, of course, but humans are tempted to sin too. All of God’s children are tempted. (And yes, he did arrive at the conclusion that vampires are among God’s children. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t believe they had souls.)

Edward specifies that Carlisle created his own philosophy. As in, he didn’t just say “I don’t have to kill people, neat. Being a monster is still horrible, though”, he sat down and went full Zarathustra.

This is where my love for theology comes in.

Christian thought is founded on the relationship between God and Man. How Man is saved, the definition of sin, absolution, all of it - it’s all built on the supposition that Man is human. Well, Carlisle just found out that there’s God, Man, and Vampire - and potentially (Carlisle at this early point in time would still think witches and such were real) others as well.

He also learned that the notion of monsters being bound to sin, or having made deals with Satan, are also wrong. He never met the guy, he has his conscience, and he lives as morally as ever.

This invalidates pretty much everything he ever learned, and Carlisle’s sitting there in the English woods realizing the same thing Nietzsche later would when science challenged religion: he has to figure out Christianity from scratch.

I think Carlisle came up with his very own doctrine.

Edward outright says so: his new philosophy was born. We see Carlisle engage in all sorts of behavior completely contrary to anything a devout 17th century priest would have been doing. He associates with heathens like Aro, Amun, or the Amazonians, allows his family to be non-believers, considers fallen women like the Denali to be wonderful people and respects them as equals, he performs abortions, he allows material luxuries under his roof, he marries a woman who committed suicide.

There’s also the fact that his was a time full of alternate interpretations of Scripture. I won’t get into this part of European history, suffice to say that with Martin Luther’s 97 theses, the Christian world exploded with different sects and branches. Anabaptism, Calvinism, Quakers, Lutherans, the list just keeps going. It wouldn’t have been a foreign concept to Carlisle to sit down and say “Alright, who is God and what does He want from us”

I keep seeing Carlisle written as a Christian parody who cries because once when he was having sex with Esme in the dark some light entered the room and he saw her ankle, and now he thinks they’re both going to hell. And if we’re talking about the movies then sure, that guy seems the type. Book Carlisle is not this, and there’s nothing in canon to indicate as much, quite the contrary. (Yes, Edward is angsty about souls, but that’s not what Carlisle believes at all. It’s made clear over and over these two don’t agree on religion, so the argument that Edward somehow downloaded his religious angst from Carlisle defeats itself.)

It seems to me Carlisle came to the conclusion that sin is to take lives for pleasure, and that vampires are neither damned nor inherently sinful. This is the only action he appears to condemn, to view as sinful. Apart from that, he will kill to defend himself or others (the newborn battle and James), he’s pro-abortion, and he did not oppose Rosalie getting her revenge.

Apart from that I’m not going to extrapolate much, in part because that’d be hard to do when we don’t have a lot to go on and I’m not actually a theologician, and in part because this post is very long now. Feel free to ask if someone wants me putting on my philosophy hat and pretending I’m a vampire with a religious crisis.

(I will say this though: the notion of vampires being inherently sinful is just Original Sin in a hat. If Carlisle believes in it, then he also believes in Original Sin for humans, vice versa if he doesn’t. Doesn’t seem to be the case, but if it is then the vampirism by itself still isn’t any more damned than humanity.)

[thekisforkeats]

So a European told me today “must be nice to have a culture.”

And I... kind of lost it.

Context: we’d been chatting for a while, and I’d already had to deal with a couple of moments of... white people being white. Being clueless and talking over people, not being outright racist but saying clueless shit. The first couple of times I explained what was wrong and moved on.

To try to lighten the mood, I shared a video of the Métis jig that’s been going around. It’s a really great dance, and the video has some context on it--specifically that the dance had been suppressed for a long time.

I was talking about the Métis people, and how they had created their own unique culture, which I personally find really fascinating and inspiring as a mixed indigenous/Native person. It’s a hopeful thing--even if they wound up losing a lot of that culture, and having to fight to get it back, there was a time where people could create new things without having to burn down the old.

(And I am not Métis, so if I am misrepresenting Métis culture and history here please feel free to correct me.)

But the key thing is that I mentioned being “cut off from everything.” Because I am. Because I cannot wholly embrace my European ancestry. Because I don’t know Kanien’kahe:ka or Choctaw. Because I am stuck between two worlds and sometimes it feels like a struggle to try to create anything new, any hopeful way forward.

And then they said “it must be nice to have a culture.”

This is a European. Living in Europe.

I lost it.

Any white person, and particularly any European, who thinks “I don’t have a culture”--don’t try to justify this stance. Stop and consider that you don’t feel you have a culture because your culture took over the world. Literally, Western European culture is everywhere.

And yes, I am lumping in all of Europe here, and no, I don’t care how different you all think you are, I was getting the same exact attitude from someone in France and someone in the UK. An attitude of “my specific experience is better than anyone else’s.” An attitude of “I don’t know about this so I will disparage it instead of politely asking questions.” An attitude of becoming defensive upon being called out. The same attitude I get from American white people. You’re not that different. You’re really not.

Culture is about food, and language, and art, and religion, and music.

I do not eat the food of my Native ancestors. I don’t even know what most of it was, and if I did, I couldn’t find it in a grocery store, and where I can it’s being marked up for white people to eat. (Wild rice, anyone?)

I do not know their languages, and I probably never will. There’s no Duolingo for Choctaw or Kanien’kahe:ka

If I use art or music of my ancestors I am derided and belittled or else white people come in to steal it and claim it as their own.

My ancestral religions were outlawed in the US until three years before I was born.

And before any European goes “well that’s the US, not me!” No. No. It’s you. It’s still you. The US just imported all the colonialist bullshit your ancestors put out there, and you’re still being isolationist and racist while the world is on fire.

The saddest part is, I don’t hate European culture as such. I am mixed! Many of my ancestors were from the UK or France or Austria! I love frybread, and I love soda bread, and I love strudel! I honor all of my ancestors, and the complex and difficult relationship I have with them. Some of my ancestors are the same people who did the colonizing and the genocide. I have to live with that. But many of them were good people living difficult lives, just like many of the people I know today.

I owe a great deal of my moral and ethical upbringing to my Oma, who was Austrian. She was 9 years old when the Nazis came--invited in, I will note, as she made sure we knew--and her family detested them, and she lost friends. She left as soon as she could. She taught me about her homeland, and she taught me about solidarity, and about the evils of sympathizers. She taught me about the Holocaust. She refused to let those horrible things go silent to her children and grandchildren. She did her best to teach us what she knew of my Opa’s culture, the few things he’d shared when their children were young, because she knew it was important. She was not perfect, but she tried.

White Europeans do not have to continue to be complicit in racism and colonialism and genocide. You can choose to do better.

The first thing to do? Shut up. Seriously. Stop talking. Sit down and listen. Maybe it’s hard, maybe you’ve come from an abusive background, maybe you’re neurodivergent. Maybe you’ve had to be quiet all your life already.

But I am all of those things, too, and I am a survivor of a very recent attempted genocide. Imagine how much time I have spent in my life being talked over. Being told to be quiet. To not make a scene.

Maybe you’re young, but I knew better than to say that sort of thing before I hit puberty. I had to, because to be a person of color--even a mixed one, even one with light enough skin to pass for white--is to be deeply aware of these things at all times.

Which is not to say I haven’t had my moments. I have. But dear gods am I aware of them.

And that’s the thing--the lack of awareness. The lack of consideration. The continual spouting of something clueless and hurtful and then “oh I didn’t know” as the response.

You should know. If you don’t, then go learn.

And for the love of all that is holy, if you read this in the tags and you’re some random person who didn’t already follow me, don’t come into my damn inbox looking for education, because I will kick your ass out so fast your head will spin. If you’re on the internet in 2021, there are so many resources about European colonization and white supremacy that you have no excuse not to at least try to learn things on your own.

The one lesson I will give? Stop talking. Start listening. I don’t need to hear your cutesy shit about how different France and England are from each other. You both did horrible awful fucked up things in the not-so-distant past. Stop talking about yourselves and start listening to the people affected.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Books I’ve Read in 2020

AHello! I’m trying to read as many books as I can during the quarantine, here’s what I’ve finished so far:

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong (literary fiction): a son writes a letter about his life to his illiterate mother. Breathtakingly beautiful with it’s way with words this book is lovely and real in the hardest and sweetest ways. The author’s combination of prose and poetry is dazzling and intricate, this book has stuck with me for days afterward. 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik (fantasy): a money-lender gets in trouble after bragging she can turn silver into gold and is kidnapped and ordered to do so by a fey creature. It may be that I am the perfect audience for this type of book, but it’s my favorite thing I’ve read all year. It’s a book that equally takes on the fantastical and real-world with compelling female characters at the center of the whole thing. A wonderful fantasy journey inspired by eastern-European Jewish folklore. 5 out of 5 stars.

Through the Woods by Emily Carroll (horror graphic novel): a series of short horror comics. Absolutely bone-chilling! This was a really fun type of scary story, especially the last one which made my skin absolutely crawl. Deliciously eerie, this was treat to read if not a little too short. 4 out of 5 stars.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender (magical realism): a young girl can taste other people’s emotions in their cooking and begins to understand her family in new ways. This was a weird book, but it has everything you’ve got to love about that combination of the surreal and mundane. It’s sense of character was electrifying and I had fun engaging with this type of off-kilter real world. I was a little frustrated in parts bc of some characters choices, but that too was true to life. 4 out of 5 stars.

Crier’s War by Nina Varela (steampunk fantasy wlw): about a Made automaton heir to a throne and her human hand-maiden that is trying to kill her. This was an easy read with a lot of tension between the two main characters that I liked, but the writing itself was very weak. There was waaay too much exposition in parts and the dialogue had some really hockey lines. I enjoyed the twists and turns in the middle of the book, but the beginning and end didn’t have much movement. 2.5 stars out of 5.

The Huntress by Kate Quinn (historical fiction): honestly, I’m a little disappointed. This book just did not hit my sweet spots, it wasn’t fast-paced enough for me to get immersed in the plot, and the characters weren’t real enough to be wholly invested in them. That said I adored Nina Markova and the Night Witches, so that did help. 3 starts out of 5.

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Kiersten White (horror sci-fi retelling): HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND. A retelling of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein from the perspective of Victor Frankenstein’s wife and my God! The characters! The plot was well-enough, but the characters took the whole show for being complex and compelling. The main character was breathtakingly layered and I was wholly invested in Elizabeth and her story and the triumph at the end of this story was tangible. 4 out of 5 stars! 

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (fantasy): A story of a young woman who lives in a valley where a girl must go live with a wizard for 10 years. She is certain she won’t be chosen, but ends up having to be “uprooted” herself. I enjoyed most of this book! However, I think I liked “Spinning Silver” a lot more just because the ending of this one somehow lost me. The characters were good and plot compelling, but (SPOILERS) the big battle at the end seemed to drag and didn’t interest me somehow. 3.8 out of 5 stars.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (fantasy): excellent read! A story of a young woman in Jazz Age Mexico who goes on an adventure with a Mayan death God who is trying to regain his throne. A romp across the country absolutely brimming with likable characters and fairy tale twists. My only complaint would be that most of it felt a little predictable due to the fact we knew where we were going throughout the whole story, However, it was still greatly enjoyable for the heroine herself, Casiopea. 4 out of 5 stars!

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng (literary): a story of two families in a progressive “planned” community, how their lives intertwine, their secrets, and a central question surrounding motherhood. Deeply empathetic to its characters and introspective, this is an every-day story of people in suburbia that reads like a thriller. I could barely put it down and felt deeply for its characters and situations, 5 out of 5 stars!

Wilder Girls by Rory Power (YA sci-fi suspense): a story of a group of girls at a boarding school on an island affected by the “tox” which alters their bodies in strange ways like giving them scales or an extra spine. This was an eerie, interesting read with a wlw romance! Watch out for the body horror in this one, but it was very gripping and held my interest. Some of the pacing was off in places (like the romance), but had a very creepy atmosphere that did it for me. 3.8 out of 5 stars!

If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (thriller-mystery): A thriller about a group of Shakespeare actors in their last year of college and one of their classmates who turns up dead. I enjoyed the murder mystery part of this novel more than I expected despite the fact I had guessed who had “done it” pretty early on. I really enjoyed the James-Oliver dynamic with its growing homoeroticism, but I didn’t like how the character of Meredith was handled at all. She felt like a one-note aside. I might have given this book four stars, but the ending was EXTREMELY frustrating for me and I did not like the “open-ended” conclusion. 3 out of 5 stars.

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): a weird character-driven comedy about an old grumpy man and a new family that moves in next to him. Warning for themes of suicide. Anyway, I don’t normally indulge in cliches like “I laughed, I cried, I loved one Cat Annoyance.” However, that’s exactly what I did. I laughed out loud, I cried my eyes out (THE CAT’S HEAD WAS IN HIS PALM), I loved this book. It was sweet and compelling and thoroughly immersive. 5 out of 5 stars!

The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow (historical fantasy): set in the early 1900s comes a story of a young girl and her experience with “Doors” that lead to different worlds. This book had a lot of great character development and really interesting descriptions, however, I didn’t like it as much as I wanted to. I found it hard to get myself to sit down a read it. There was just something missing with the push to “page-turn,” but it was still a really good book. 3.7 out of 5 stars!

Gideon the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (high fantasy, kinda gay): I AM FILLED WITH EMOTIONS. This was book was definitely a page-turner. I was very confused with it at the beginning, but the characters and their interactions were, forgive the expression, the life blood of the story and kept me wholly invested. The ending has CRUSHED my heart, but damn did I have a good time reading it. 4.5 out of 5 stars!

Harrow the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (sequel to Gideon the 9th): I really enjoyed this book. It was just as strange and twisting as the first book, though I think I enjoyed the first one a bit more since I love Gideon. It was fun ride overall, though the ending was kind of really confusing. So 4 out of 5 stars.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (historical fiction): Overall, I really enjoyed this book! The writing style was personable and grounded in reality. I found myself really liking the main characters and the exploration of the life of a bi main character was really well done I thought. A solid book with drama and glamor to boot. 4.6 out of 5 stars!

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah (historical fiction): A story of two sisters during WWII and their resistance to Nazi occupation. To be honest, this book wasn’t my cup of tea. It was compelling, but also wholly depressing and I felt like gloried in the pain of the two main characters too much. The history was wonderful and realistic, but it didn’t make me feel anything good afterward. It was just dark. 3 out of 5 stars.

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (mlm romance): I finally finished this after the heaviness of The Nightingale. This is a story of the First Son of the USA falling for the prince of England. And it turned out to be a very fun and light hearted read! Some of it was kinda generic and too political, and it coulda been shorter, but I thought the romance itself made up for it. It just made me feel so sweet and lovely inside. 4 out of 5 stars!

Anxious People by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): I’m searching out heartfelt books and this one ticked off all the marks on my “sweet” list. A lovely book that made me cry more times than I would like to admit. Compassionate beyond belief, funny and heartfelt. I think I enjoyed A Man Called Ove slightly more, but this book was also dear to me and something I hope to reread in the future. 4.2 out of 5 stars!

Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel (sci-fi): A post-apocalyptical story about a group of traveling Shakespeare actors and a symphony. Overall, an excellent read that somehow pictures a more realistic or even softer version of the apocalypse. At first, I wasn't happy with the jumping around of the story, but as I progressed I grew fonder and fonder of the interwoven characters and their journey. A very fascinating read about a world that hits a little too close to home. The appreciation of the arts and preserving humanity was somehow very hopeful and I was fully engaged with this story. 5 out of 5 Stars!

Up next: The Hidden Life of Trees by by Peter Wohlleben (nonfiction science), The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin (urban fantasy), The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (fantasy)

[merlinmyrddin]

Hello!

Can you recommend me some very underatted gay movies? (I prefer comdey or happy ones if it's possible)

I recently came to realize i am a 23 man who happens to be gay. I don't know what took me so long.

Hello! I am sorry for the time it took me to answer you, but your ask has been playing constantly in my head now for weeks and I had to go down nostalgia lane film-wise...!

I'm also sorry for how long this answer is, I got carried away!!!

So first of all, I am damn proud if you. I know it sounds like empty words but whether you're 13, 23, or 45, being able to say you have found your inner truth is always something to be proud of! And what took you so long? It didn't. We are living in times where people want you to believe you are meant to have your sexuality and/or gender figured out by 18 when in reality, I know more people doing their coming out in their 20's/30's. Because when it comes to being gay, lesbian, bi, trans and queer : this last decade has seen some major changes. But it's ok for people born late 80's and 90's to come out "just" now. We grew up in a time where homosexuality was still taboo in most places. And when I say taboo, I mean that "homosexual" was barely pronounced, sometimes only whispered. A time where "gay panic" was a legitimate defense in court. (Talking from a Western European point of view here again. Many places in the world, including the USA still consider the murder of an homosexual or transgender victim as a legitimate act. And these last years has proven that there was not only the "gay/trans panic" crippling our streets, but also a "black panic" and more recently, an "Asian panic". Short aparte here : "gay panic" doesnt mean "omg, that person is making me question my identity!?" nor is it a term used when thirsty over an actor/actress when openly gay such as "[actor name] oh wow...*gay panic intensifies*... this term is a serious concept a murderer can use in court as a defense when taking the life of someone from the community. This is the law enabling hate crimes.)

To any younger people reading this right now : gay marriage has been legal in France since 2013, in the UK since 2014 and, allegedly, in the US since 2015. This is recent history. People who are mid-20's are historically closer to the HIV/AIDs crisis than of the legalisation of same-sex marriage.

As such, we are made to believe than coming out in our twenties or thirties is doing a late coming out. No, it's not. We are a generation who suffered through systemic homophobia in our formative teenage years. When we were trying to figure who we were, people were marching in the streets calling us names, and trying to defend the idea we did not deserve basic humans rights. (As a side note, I am not implying that such issues are not currently happening. This is mostly western European centred again as I am, well, European. This is also targeted towards sexuality orientations, excluding any gender talks as this is still currently a very real societal issue for which the fight has only just begun. Double side note : I'm not yet fully caffeinated. But hopefully you get the general idea despite my flagrant lack of eloquence on this fine morning.)

Alright, let's move on to films then!

I searched for a long time for happy / comedic films but then I realised I was definitly not the right person to answer that. On a general basis, I enjoy dramas. That's my thing.

So instead, I thought I would list you the first LGBTQ+ Films I ever watched, hoping they'll find you well.

-Stonewall (1995). Not my favourite film, but as a kid, it was great first jump into lgbtq+ history. Sad note : The director of this film died of AIDS shortly after.

-Another country (1984) Based in the 1930's in a public school. Starring Rupert Everett (who just a few years ago came to direct "The Happy Prince", a great take on Oscar Wilde and Alfred Douglas, casting himself as Wilde, and Colin Morgan as Bosie...fantastic film, highly recommand), and starring Colin Firth. Teenagers discovering themselves, from homosexuality to politics. (The parralele made is quite interesting as both young men are misfits...one for being gay, one for being Marxist.) Great watch, but a heavy one.

-Maurice. (1987) God, I love this film. It explores not only coming to term with your sexuality but also what it means to be homosexual for the people around you and the impact it can have on your life, depending on your social background. Starring James Wilby, Hugh Grant and Rupert Graves, this is an other drama which leaves you feeling almost raw. I always had an affinity for British film because of how...real they feel. Best example would probably be Danny Boyle himself. You know what I mean... you grow attached and you feel for these characters. And Maurice does just that. Memorable quote : I am an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort. (And you might think : "Oscar Wilde? Again??" And oh boy, yes. Oscar Wilde again. Yes, he is one of the most well known author, mostly because of The Picture of Dorian Gray, but he is also a major part of Queer history. After all, "queer" has been used as a derogatory term for homosexuals for the time...directed at Wilde during his trial for posing as a somdomite. (No typo there.) Being an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort is an other one of the euphemism like "being a friend of Dorothy") And talking about Wilde...

-Wilde (1997). Biopic, Stephen Fry as Oscar, Jude law as Oscar's lover : Bosie. Incredible. Superb film. I can not find words.

-An Englishman in New-York (not the Sting song. Actually yes, kinda the Sting song. Because both the film and the song are about the same man : Quentin Crisp). Biopic. An artist, writer, actor, Quentin Crisp has always bothered. Painting his nails, wearing make up, criticising the royal family. He was a character. John hurt is magnificent as Crisp, who he had already played in 1975 in The Naked Civil Servant, an other great watch.

- A Single Man (2009). With Nicholas Hoult and Colin Firth. This film was a slap in my face. And it has, in my opinion, one of the greatest speech of all time, during a scene in the classroom :

"[...]Let's leave the Jews out of this just for a moment. Let's think of another minority. One that... One that can go unnoticed if it needs to. There are all sorts of minorities, blondes for example... Or people with freckles. But a minority is only thought of as one when it constitutes some kind of threat to the majority. A real threat or an imagined one. And therein lies the fear. If the minority is somehow invisible, then the fear is much greater. That fear is why the minority is persecuted. So, you see there always is a cause. The cause is fear. Minorities are just people. People like us."

-Pride (2014). [TRAILER] Bloody hell, that film. When we talk about lgbtq+ history, we often thing about the pink triangle and the holocaust, Reagan, Stonewall, AIDS and... fucking Maggie. Margaret Thatcher, the Iron Lady. Again, funny how the past is closer than we think, as I still have friends of mine talking to me about that period in British history that they lived through. The minors strike. The poverty, the crisis of the working class and the HIV crisis. But if you are looking for a film full of hope, from tears to laughter, this is the one. Bread and Roses. Bread, and Roses. And a message, which I believe is the essence of our community to this day : solidarity forever. After all...there is power in a union.

If anybody has other films to add, you are more than welcome to do so.

Love you all xx

[margridarnauds]

Things I Wish I Had Known About Being A Celticist (Before Becoming One):

1. If you’re North American, you’re going to have to work twice as hard to get the same level of respect as your peers from Europe. Get used to that now, because it won’t get any easier as time goes on. You’re also going to very likely be in classes with people who, while not FLUENT in Gaeilge, have at least some background in it. This can be a blessing and a curse - The curse is that you have less of an idea of what’s going on, the blessing is that the professors will focus a lot of the tougher questions on them, at least at first. 

2. “So, do you have any Irish family?” You will be asked that question. All the time. If you’re North American or English. Unless you have, say, a grandma from Tipperary, the safest answer is always “No, not at all! I just love the literature/history/language/etc.” 

3. Love languages? You’re going to! On average, depending on your program, it’s likely that you’ll at least be learning two languages. At enough of a level where you can get pretty in-depth when it comes to the grammar. Most Old Irish experts are expected to know Old Irish, Middle Welsh (at least enough for comparative purposes), and German, with Latin often being brought in. You’ll also be expected to be able to comment on the development of Old Irish, Middle Irish, Early Modern Irish, and Gaeilge - It’s essential if you’re going to date texts. There are also multiple other Celtic languages (Breton, Manx, Cornish, Scottish) that, while they might not be ESSENTIAL for whatever you’re doing, are still going to be cropping up at different times for comparison purposes - I’d be lying if I said I knew them WELL, and most people tend to stick fairly firmly to their area, BUT you will probably be learning at least a little of them. (Personally, no one asked me, but I honestly think that I couldn’t call myself a Celticist if I just knew one Celtic language, it’s why a longterm goal of mine is to build up as much knowledge of the others as I can.)  I’ve seen quite a few scholars go in thinking that the linguistics part won’t be important, only to be slammed by the program early on. Even if you just want to do literary analysis, you’re going to have to explain the meaning and development of individual words, as well as situating it in the broader scope of the development of your language of choice. (IE “This is a ninth century text, and we know that because it has intact deponent verbs, the neuter article’s dying out, and no independent object pronoun. Also everything’s on fire because Vikings.”)

4. You’re very likely going to have to move. This applies mainly for North Americans who want to do it (unless you happen to live directly in, say, Toronto or Boston, in which case ignore what I said and, Bostonians, polish off your GREs and prepare to listen to Legally Blonde the Musical on repeat because you’re going to be applying for Harvard). There are very few Celtic Studies programs in the world and, in general, most of the major programs, sensibly, are in Celtic-speaking countries - So, if you want to study Scottish, you go to Scotland, you want Irish, you go to Ireland, Welsh in Wales, etc. If you already wanted to move to Europe for a year or two while you’re doing your MA, then great (and for EU students this doesn’t apply, since they can relocate much easier...unless they were planning on going to the UK in which case.....my condolences), but if you didn’t have any sudden plans to move, keep it in mind. From an American perspective, it was literally cheaper to move to Ireland and do my MA there than to deal with the school system here, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other inconveniences associated with moving to another country. Even if you’re European, the field is fickle - An Irish scholar might find themselves moving to Scotland, an English scholar might find themselves moving to Ireland, etc. etc. These things happen when you have to take what you can get. 

5. You don’t need Old Irish to go for your MA in Celtic Studies. You do not need Old Irish to go for your MA in Celtic Studies. When I first applied for my MA, I thought I didn’t have a chance because I had a general Humanities degree and didn’t have any formal experience with a Celtic language, least of all Old Irish. As it turns out, most programs do not expect you to have a background in this sort of thing beforehand, and quite a few have different programs for those who have a background in this stuff VS those who don’t, so don’t feel, if this is what you REALLY want to do, like you can’t just because of that. Show your passion for the field in your application, talk a little about the texts you’ve studied, angles you’re interested in, etc., make it the best application you can, and you still have a shot even without Old Irish (or, for non-Irish potential Celticists, whatever your target is.)  

6. It’s competitive - Just because you get your MA, PhD programs are fewer and farer between. Academia in general isn’t known for its phenomenal job security, but Celtic Studies in particular is very fragile, since we generally are seen as low priority even among the Humanities programs (which, in general, are the first to be axed anyway.) If you focus on medieval languages as opposed to modern ones, you might very well find your program ranked lower in priority than your colleagues in the modern departments. Especially since COVID has gutted many universities’ income. I found that getting into a MA program was significantly easier than planning on what to do afterwards, since, for a PhD, you generally have to go someplace that can pay you at least some amount of money. Going into your PhD without any departmental funding is a recipe for burnout and bankruptcy, and there are very few Celtic Studies programs that can pay. Doesn’t mean you can’t try, and, when paid PhDs become available, they tend to be quite well publicized on Celtic Studies Twitter/Facebook, but keep in mind that you’ll be in a very competitive market. Networking is key - Your MA is your time to shine and get those treasured letters of rec so that you can get that sweet, sweet institutional funding for your PhD. 

7. You’re very likely not actually going to teach Celtic Studies. Because there are so few teaching positions available worldwide, it’s much more likely that you’ll be teaching general Humanities/Composition/etc. This doesn’t mean that you’ll be giving up Celtic Studies (conferences are always going to be open, you don’t have to stay in one department for your entire life and can snag a position when it becomes available, and, even if you go outside of academia, the tourism industry...well, it was looking for Celticists, before The Plague), it just means that if teaching it is what you REALLY want to do with your life, it might be good to check your expectations. A few programs even have an option where you can essentially double major for the sake of job security. (So, if you always wanted to be the world’s first French Revolution historian/Celticist/Gothic Literature triple threat......................the amount of reading you’d have to do would likely drive you insane but................)

8. Make nice with your department. Make nice with your department. Celtic Studies departments tend to be small and concentrated, so you’re going to be knowing everyone quite well by the end of your first grad degree, at least. You don’t have to like everyone in it, but they aren’t just your classmates, they’re your colleagues. You will be seeing at least some of their faces for the rest of your life. I can say that my MA department remembered students who left the program a decade ago. Your department is supposed to have your back, and they can be an invaluable source of support when you need it the most, since they understand the program and what it entails better than anyone else can. You’ll need them for everything from moral support to getting you pdfs of That One Article From A Long Discontinued Journal From The 1970s. I’ve seen students who made an ass of themselves to the department - Their classmates remembered them five years later. Don’t be that guy. Have fun, go to the holiday dinners, get to know people, ask about their work, attend the “voluntary” seminars and lectures, and do not make an ass of yourself. That is how you find yourself jumping from PhD program to PhD program because your old professors “forgot” your letter of rec until the day after the deadline. Also, since your departments are small and concentrated, it’s a good idea to prepare to separate your social media for your personal stuff vs your academics as much as you can, since it won’t be too hard to track you down if people just know that you do Celtic Studies. 

9. Some areas of the field are more respected than others. If you want to do work on the legal or ecclesiastical aspects, excellent. If you want to focus on the linguistic elements, excellent. If you’re here for literature.....there’s a place, though you’re going to have to make damned sure to back it up with linguistic and historical evidence. (There’s less theory for theory’s sake, though theoretical approaches are slowly gaining more acceptance.) But if you’re here for mythography or comparative approaches...there is a PLACE for you, but it’s a little dustier than the others. There are fewer programs willing to outright teach mythology, mainly because it’s seen as outdated and unorthodox, especially since the term itself in a Celtic context is controversial. Pursue it, God knows we need the support, but just...be prepared to mute a lot of your academic social media. And, really, your social media in general. And have a defense prepared ahead of time. With citations. Frankly, I think my Bitch Levels have gone up a solid 50% since getting into this area, because consistently seeing the blue checkmarks on Twitter acting like you’re not doing real work while you’re knees deep in a five volume genealogical tract tends to do that to you. If it ever seems like I go overboard with the citations when it comes to talking about the Mythological Cycle, this is why - I have to. It’s how I maintain what legitimacy I have. I’d still do it if I’d have known, but I would have appreciated the heads up. (On the plus side - It means that, in those few programs that DO teach mythology, you’re golden, because they want all the serious students they can get.) 

10. If you really, really love it, it’s worth it. After all this, you’re probably wondering why anyone would sign on for this. The work’s grueling and often unrewarding, you might or might not get respect for what you do based off of where you were born and what your interests are, and you’re subject to an incredibly unpredictable job market so you might never see any material compensation for all of it. But, if you can check your expectations of becoming rich off of it, if all you REALLY want to do is chase it as far as it can go, then it’s worth it. There’s a lot of work to be done, so you don’t have to worry too much about trotting over the same thing that a dozen scholars have already done. You might get the chance to be the very first person, for example, to crack into a text that no one’s read for over a thousand years, or you might totally re-analyze something because the last person to look at it did it in the 19th century, or you might get to be the first person to look at an angle for a text or figure that no one’s considered. If finding a reference to your favorite person in a single annal from the 17th century makes you walk on air for the entire day, then you might very well be the sort of person the field needs. 

[qqueenofhades]

I really don’t want to start a discourse™, but I want you to know that I really appreciate how you write joe and Nicky in deo volente. So many of the fics I’ve read have placed yusef in the role of more sexually experienced and less devoted to god, while Nicky is depicted as an inexperienced and virginal priest/knight/monk and so forth and so on. Your narrative of joe out there rescuing people and being faithful, while Nicky looks back on his life of gambling and pleasures of the flesh ...(1/?)

Not to say that there’s anything wrong with either, obviously. I love guilty priest Nicky and repressed Nicky and p much every Nicky. But in the vast array of fics out there, it’s rare to see the opposite. Not that you’re working in a binary morally good/religious vs. not way. Your writing in the fic is really subtle and and your characterizations reveal a lot of depth. I just think it’s cool to see Nicky, average second son of a duke, drinking and gambling and feeling terribly guilty (2/?)

Guilty about the crusades and the fucking horror of crusade 1 without being excessively devout. Just an average dude. Not some paragon of virtue (btw, I’m on chapter 2 of the fic, so I don’t know how much your characterization changes moving forward. You have a lovely ability to combine your incredible knowledge of history, your beautiful writing, and these intimate details of the characters that make them fit— fit the canon and fit the history. (3/? Shit I’m sorry this had gotten way too long)

I enjoy the way you’ve really inserted us into the quotidian aspect of history. Aaaaaanyway— the discourse that I was afraid of: I think that a lot of fans of the movie that are generating fan content (tysfm to all of you beauties, btw 🙏🙏♥️) are westerners (which is a whole nother kettle of fish) and that carries a sort of ignorance about the Muslim world in the Middle Ages and this desire to simplify Europe as “Christian” “fighters for faith” etc. (4/? Fuuuuck. One(??) more)

And when we do that, we end up as characterizing the brown people as “not that”. The thing I love about this fandom is that people are definitely down on the crusades. I feel like all the fic I’ve read has been particularly negative about those wars, but the thing I love about your fic is that you don’t just say war is bad because people died and it was despicable and this pious white dude says so and this one brown person agrees. (5/6, I see the end in sight I swear it)

Instead you give us a larger cast of Muslims and Arabs and really flesh them out and give them opinions and different interpretations of faith, and I really appreciate that. The crusades were terrible, and we know this because these regular dudes who struggle with their different faiths and lives say so. And I just. I think that’s really great. Also, I fucking love yusef’s mom. I feel like more people would be accepting of the gift in this fashion and I think she’s lovely and (god damn it 6/7)

Aaaaaaaand. The bit where yusef returns and she’s already gone breaks my fucking heart. Also the moment where he’s like “I’m not sure about Abraham’s god, but my mothers god is worth my faith”?? Just really fucking great. So. Excellent fic. Excellent characters. Excellent not-being-accidentally-biased-towards-white-Christians. That is what I came here to say. Thank you so much for your amazing stories. I love them and I love history. Sorry about the rambling. idek how I wrote so much. (7/7)

Epilogue: tl;dr: you’re great.

Oh man! What a huge and thoughtful comment (which will in turn provoke a long-ass response from me, so…) I absolutely agree that no matter what fandom, I don’t do Discourse TM; I just sit in my bubble and stay in my lane and do my own thing and create content I enjoy. And I don’t even think this is that so much as just… general commentary on character and background? So obviously all of this should be read as my own personal experience and choices in writing DVLA, and that alone. I really appreciate you for saying that you love a wide range of fan creators/fanworks and you’re not placing one over another, you understand that fans have diverse ranges of backgrounds/experience with history and other cultures when they create content, and that’s not the same for everyone. So I just think that’s a great and respectful way to start things off.

First, as a professional historian who has written a literal PhD thesis on the crusades, I absolutely understand that many people (and regular fans) will not have the same privilege/education/perspective that I do, and that’s fine! They should not be expected to get multiple advanced degrees to enjoy a Netflix movie! But since I DO have that background, and since I’ve been working on the intellectual genealogy of the crusades (and the associated Christian/Muslim component, whether racially or religiously) since I was a master’s student, I have a lot of academic training and personal feelings that inform how I write these characters. Aside from my research on all this, my sister lives in an Islamic country and her boyfriend is a Muslim man; I’ve known a lot of Muslims and Middle Easterners; and especially with the current political climate of Islamophobia and the reckoning with racism whether in reality or fandom, I have been thinking about all this a lot, and my impact on such.

Basically: I love Nicky dearly, but I ADORE Joe, and as such, I’m protective of him and certainly very mindful of how I write him. Especially when the obvious default for westerners in general, fandom-related or otherwise, is to write what you are familiar with (i.e. the European Christian white character) and be either less comfortable or less confident or sometimes less thoughtful about his opposing number. I have at times tangentially stumbled across takes on Joe that turn me into the “eeeeeeeh” emoji or Dubious Chrissy Teigen, but I honestly couldn’t tell you anything else about them because I was like, “nope not for me” and went elsewhere rather than do Discourse (which is pretty much a waste of time everywhere and always makes people feel bad). This is why I’m always selective about my fan content, but especially so with this ship, because I have SO much field-specific knowledge that I just have to make what I like and which suits my personal tastes. So that is what I do.

Obviously, there’s a troublesome history with the trope of “sexually liberate brown person seduces virginal white character into a world of Fleshly Decadence,” whether from the medieval correlation of “sodomite” and “Saracen,” or the nineteenth-century Orientalist depictions of the East as a land variously childishly simplistic, societally backward, darkly mysterious and Exotic, or “decadent” (read: code for sexually unlike Western Europe, including the spectrum of queer acts). So when I was writing DVLA, I absolutely did not want to do that and it’s not to my taste, but I’m not going to whip out a red pen on someone else writing a story that broadly follows those parameters (because as I said, I stay in my lane and don’t see it anyway). Joe to me is just such an intensely complex and lovely Muslim character that that’s the only way I feel like I can honestly write him, and I absolutely love that about him. So yeah, any depiction of hypersexualizing him or making him only available for the sexual use and education of the white character(s) is just... mmm, not for me.

For example, I stressed over whether it was appropriate to move his origin from “somewhere in the Maghreb” to Cairo specifically, since Egypt, while it IS in North Africa, is not technically part of the Maghreb. I realize that Marwan Kenzari’s family is Tunisian and that’s probably why they chose it, to honor the actor’s heritage, but on the flip side… “al-Kaysani” is also a specifically Ismai’li Shia name (it’s the name of a branch of it) and the Fatimids (the ruling dynasty in Jerusalem at the time of the First Crusade) were well-known for being the only Ismai’li Shia caliphate. (This is why the Shi’ites still ancestrally dislike Saladin for overthrowing it in 1174, even if Saladin is a huge hero to the rest of the Islamic world.) Plus I really wanted to use medieval Cairo as Joe’s homeland, and it just made more sense for an Ismai’li Shia Fatimid from Cairo (i.e. the actual Muslim denomination and caliphate that controlled Jerusalem) to be defending the Holy City because it was personal for him, rather than a Sunni Zirid from Ifriqiya just kind of turning up there. Especially due to the intense fragmentation and disorganization in the Islamic world at the time of the First Crusade (which was a big part of the reason it succeeded) and since the Zirids were a breakaway group from the Fatimids and therefore not very likely to be militarily allied with them. As with my personal gripes about Nicky being a priest, I decided to make that change because I felt, as a historian, that it made more sense for the character. But I SUPER recognize it as my own choices and tweaks, and obviously I’m not about to complain at anyone for writing what’s in graphic novel/bonus content canon!

That ties, however, into the fact that Nicky has a clearly defined city/region of origin (Genoa, which has a distinct history, culture, and tradition of crusading) and Joe is just said to be from “the Maghreb” which…. is obviously huge. (I.e. anywhere in North Africa west of Egypt all the way to Morocco.) And this isn’t a fandom thing, but from the official creators/writers of the comics and the movie. And I’m over here like: okay, which country? Which city? Which denomination of Islam? You’ve given him a Shia name but then point him to an origin in Sunni Ifriqiya. If he’s from there, why has he gone thousands of miles to Jerusalem in the middle of a dangerous war to help his religious/political rivals defend their territory? Just because he’s nice? Because it was an accident? Why is his motivation or reason for being there any less defined or any less religious (inasmuch as DVLA Nicky’s motive for being on the First Crusade is religious at all, which is not very) than the white character’s? In a sense, the Christians are the ones who have to work a lot harder to justify their presence in the Middle East in the eleventh century at all: the First Crusade was a specifically military and offensive invasion launched at the direct behest of the leader of the Western Roman church (Pope Urban II.) So the idea that they’re “fighting for the faith” or defending it bravely is…

Eeeeh. (Insert Dubious Chrissy Teigen.)

But of course, nobody teaches medieval history to anyone in America (except for Bad Game of Thrones History Tee Em), and they sure as hell don’t teach about the crusades (except for the Religious Violence Bad highlight reel) so people don’t KNOW about these things, and I wish they DID know, and that’s why I’m over here trying to be an academic so I can help them LEARN it, and I get very passionate about it. So once again, I entirely don’t blame people who have acquired this distorted cultural impression of the crusades and don’t want to do a book’s worth of research to write a fic about a Netflix movie. I do hope that they take the initiative to learn more about it because they’re interested and want to know more, since by nature the pairing involves a lot of complex religious, racial, and cultural dynamics that need to be handled thoughtfully, even if you don’t know everything about it. So like, basically all I want is for the Muslim character(s) to be given the same level of respect, attention to detail, background story, family context, and religious diversity as any of the white characters, and Imma do it myself if I have to. Dammit.

(I’m really excited to hear your thoughts on the second half of the fic, especially chapter 3 and chapter 6, but definitely all of it, since I think the characters they’re established as in the early part of the fic do remain true to themselves and both grow and struggle and go through a realistic journey with their faith over their very long lives, and it’s one of my favorite themes about DVLA.)

Anyway, about Nicky. I also made the specific choice to have him be an average guy, the ordinary second son of a nobleman who doesn’t really know what he’s doing with his life and isn’t the mouthpiece of Moral Virtue in the story, since as he himself realizes pretty quick, the crusades and especially the sack/massacre of Jerusalem are actually horrific. I’ve written in various posts about my nitpicking gripes with him being a priest, so he’s not, and as I said, I’m definitely avoiding any scenario where he has to Learn About The World from Joe. That is because I want to make the point that the people on the crusades were people, and they went for a lot of different reasons, not all of which were intense personal religious belief. The crusades were an institution and operated institutionally. Even on the First Crusade, where there were a lot of ordinary people who went because of sincere religious belief, there was the usual bad behavior by soldiers and secular noblemen and people who just went because it was the thing to do. James Brundage has an article about prostitution and miscegenation and other sexual activity on the First Crusade; even at the height of this first and holy expedition, it was happening. So Nicky obviously isn’t going to be the moral exemplar because a) the crusades are horrific, he himself realizes that, and b) it’s just as historically accurate that he wouldn’t be anyway. Since the idea is that medieval crusaders were all just zealots and ergo Not Like Us is dangerous, I didn’t want to do that either. If we think they all went because they were all personally fervent Catholics and thus clearly we couldn’t do the same, then we miss a lot of our own behavior and our parallel (and troubling) decisions, and yeah.

As well, I made a deliberate choice to have Nicky’s kindness (which I LOVE about him, it’s one of my favorite things, god how refreshing to have that be one of the central tenets of a male warrior character) not to be something that was just… always there and he was Meek and Good because a priest or whatever else. Especially as I’ve gotten older and we’ve all been living through these ridiculous hellyears (2020 is the worst, but it’s all been general shit for a while), I’ve thought more and more about how kindness is an active CHOICE and it’s as transgressive as anything else you can do and a whole lot more brave than just cynicism and nihilism and despair. As you’ll see in the second half of the fic, Nicky (and Joe) have been through some truly devastating things and it might be understandable if they gave into despair, but they DON’T. They choose to continue to be good people and to try and to actively BE kind, rather than it being some passive default setting. They struggle with it and it’s raw and painful and they’re not always saints, but they always come down on the side of wanting to keep doing what they’re doing, and I… have feelings about that.

Anyway, this is already SUPER long, so I’ll call it quits for now. But thank you so much for this, because I love these characters and I love the story I created for them in DVLA, since all this is personal to me in a lot of ways, and I’m so glad you picked up on that.

[spiltscribbles]

I’ll Breathe You In, If You Hold Me Close

~Notes: This is an extremely late birthday FIC I wrote for one of the most talented fucking babes to ever write Wolfstar! And who gives me my pretty boy Remus fix!!! VICTORIA!!! You are such a kind fucking soul and so beyond lovely, and I’m so sorry if this is shit. I’ve been stuck on what to write you for weeks, but then I saw the other day that you vibe with Gallavich, so this is crack where it’s kinda that but also the Blacks are kinda the Bass family from Gossip Girl, and I am like extremely nervous that this is pure shit, but I hope it’s like tolerable enough for you to somewhat enjoy because you deserve so much loveliness!! And again I’m sorry if it sucks XS  Thank you to the ever gorgeous  babe  Kat who stayed up at midnight with me to brainstorm ideas flkjasoigjqowifjkljgdsfj You’re an angel babey!!!!*deep breath* Final apologies ya’ll

~*~

It’s a typical Tuesday afternoon, which means that Sirius is smoking a messily wrapped joint that James had just handed over and they’re playing a round of pool in the lounge of the Grimmauld, one of the numerous hotels owned by the Blacks. Fabian Prewett is about to break right when Sirius’s kid cousin  clammers inside, blotchy faced and crying. She’s always been so God damn  emotional.

“What’s going on kid?”

“It’s. It’s. Remus Lupin.”

Sirius just barely lets her finish the story  before he’s off after the punk.

.-

So the thing is that Sirius knows of Remus Lupin before ever actually speaking to him past placid  pleasantries exchanged in the halls or a party. Everyone knows everyone in the Upper East Side, knows all their dirty little  secrets and familial histories and underhanded dealings— which are usually one in the same. They all know each others  standing in this tentative hierarchy that paints the landscape of this Versace veneered bubble filled up with pasted smiles and empty eyes. The Lupins are the sort of folks that the Blacks make it a point to scoff at during soirees and the likes. The patriarch, Lyall, is as new money as they come, still stenches from the centuries of mediocrity that is his cornerstone. His wife turned scorned lover was a gorgeous young thing from an Eastern European  town in the Tallin outskirts who made her fortunes from smiling pretty on magazine covers and collecting a pile of ex husbands that it would turn any head from the sheer madness.  They are the e absolute antithesis of the Black family tree, which in turn has  branches stemming so far back that the history books can’t even encompass their grandness. They’ve been the crowning jewel of every commendable antiquity  for ten centuries on the low end, and have made their footprints of granger for all to marvel at, and Sirius is the incandescent scion from all their efforts. He knows who he is, knows what he represents. Knows that he’s literally been bread to be this beautiful and brilliant and bright. So it makes no sense why his gaze has always been magnetized to the sight of the Lupin kid.

He’s big caramel curls, and even bigger green eyes, and he spends most of his time at school ambling about with that strawberry blonde charity case that James is always sniffing around. He looks like a CW heartthrob, pretty and unassuming and shy. Sirius doesn’t like him, has punched the lights out anyone— mainly Pettigrew— who would snidely ask why he’s always got one eye on him if he supposedly does not, but they don’t know shit. He’s just interesting, peculiar, different.

In a grayscale world Lupin  seems to glow with vibrancy that shouldn’t be allowed. He smiles with an ingenuous air, and helps the younger years get around and studiously sticks to his mixers at parties even while most folks are cutting coke with their black cards and sniffing it off the sweaty stomach  of a easy going  girl from Princeton.

But none of that is actually interesting, actually matters. So what if sometimes while gazing at his profile, Sirius thinks  confidently that Lupin would probably taste as sweet as his very disposition. And so what if he occasionally wonders just how it would sound if he got Lupin’s quiet, raspy little voice to whimper out loud while Sirius was fucking into him? None of that matters, it’s not like he gives a fuck about the prick.

His intrigue towards Lupin means nothing in the world they inhabit.

.-

He finds him on the Met steps, book in hand while the strawberry blonde— Evans— is chatting amiably about some trite that Sirius doesn’t care enough to understand, Sirius’s flocked by James and Pettigrew and has got a leer on his face as he swaggers forwards.

“Lupy Lupin.”

His pretty eyes flicker upwards for a second before just sliding off of him and back to the copy of Tess of the D’Urbervilles in his lap. “What do you want Black.”

“For you to tell me why my baby cousin told me that you’re  toying around with her feelings Lupin,” he snarls back, he’s top dog of this town and its ocean of blue bloods, he’s not gonna let him forget it.

“Oh come off it,” Evans— glowering straight at him as if she isn’t a scholarship kid— rebukes. “Does Dora really need her brain dead, bastard of a cousin to fight her battles.”

Sirius bares his teeth at her, but it’s belied by James interjecting hurriedly to comment on how her hair looks   especially shiny today. She flips him off and goes back to eating her yogurt, nose wrinkled like they’re a pack of street rats infesting her picnic.

“I did nothing to Tonks Black, just told her kindly that she isn’t my type.” Lupin says breezily, standing up fully now and gesturing for Evans to follow suit.

Sirius steps forwards, properly irritated now. “You think your runt ass has any right to say that she isn’t good enough for you, the kid of a bimbo and drunkard.” Lupin’s pretty eyes flash at that, but he doesn’t betray his emotions, face staying unaffected, and tone as smooth and detached as ever.

“I rather prefer it if the person i’m fucking has a dick, sorry to break the news. But tell Tonks I’m flattered, and  i’m still willing to be a friend and help tutor her for the calculus exam we’ve got coming up.”

With that, in an air of nonchalance, he cuts right past them, a preening Evans at his heels and three confused looking boys in his wake.

And oh. He is something interesting indeed.

~*~

Keep Reading  

[stylishanachronism]

Okay so no Caed Nua as an abandoned haunted house, but would you write about Neketaka as a not at all abandoned but still haunted AF city?

I would!!! Especially as it’s got a lot of overlap, given both Caed Nua and Neketaka just..... plastered over the Remains of What Came Before, and everyone just sort of forgot about it, but the House City Did Not Forget.

(A note: I’m on much much shakier ground as far as the real life cultures that inspired the devs with this one, so like, if you’ve got more info let me know if I’m wildly off base or like, rude, because all I’ve got is two years of Polynesian art and a thorough grounding in modern American, nebulously European, and fairly specifically 17th c Japanese haunted house archetypes.)

So Neketaka, canonically, is built on top of several centuries worth of Other Cities, not all of which are holding up that well. (I suspect most of the, uh, old empire(?) construction actually was built into the caves under the current city on purpose, given the Gullet hasn’t been swallowed up yet; despite all the shaky platforms there’s solid rock somewhere under all that, and that buildings for the living were repurposed for the dead at some point when they decided to start building on top of the mountain as well. All of that was more or less sealed off by Engwith, to my understanding, in an attempt to hide the God Battery Ukaizo, likely with people still living there, given the sheer number of corpses you see both below the Gullet and in Berath’s temple, which, again to my understanding, leads into the same complex, deep enough down. So you’ve got a whole city under the city, plus whatever layers of construction ended up in between (and there’s at least a couple of places that have two or three of those, given where we’re allowed to go), and that city did not go quietly.

(To circle back around to the Caed Nua essay nobody gets to read yet, it’s fairly canon that anything that exists long enough gets pretty damn haunted, for whatever definition of haunted applies. Places and things involved with death do this more quickly, obviously, but even sufficiently strong emotion will do, based on all the soul bound objects. Caed Nua is explicitly canonically odd because it Went Haunted almost before it was finished being built, not because it *is* haunted, and Haunted Hill scares people because that shit happened literally overnight, not because it happened at all; nobody cares about the equally (but much more gradually) haunted sewers, after all. Neketaka was essentially buried alive, as far as I know, and history swallowed that fact up whole, so the highly reasonably fact the city is haunted is not well remembered, and it’s real sad about that.)

A small part of the reason Neketaka is such a mess (99% of it is absolutely outside politics But) is that I doubt the Huana are as a general rule used to living in haunted spaces; some tribes certainly are, and all the Watershapers are probably at least a little Concerned by non-haunted places, considering, but anybody whose tribe used to live outside the city is probably not having a great time with that bit, on top of, y’know, living in a city at all. Neketaka seems fairly inclined to leave the surface city to itself, though in addition to being at least partially built on solid rock, the reason the Gullet is still standing is definitely because the city wants it to be, and it’s definitely more ‘active’ about Berath’s temple, and probably Delver’s Row as well. It also probably doesn’t help that p much nobody can recognize the haunting for what it is, for various reasons, and anyone who should is very throughly ignoring the situation, mostly for political and/or health reasons. (The Watcher is special, and the city loves them, for better or worse; not everyone can say the same!) Digging too far into the City’s city-ness just means you get it’s attention, and then it probably tries to help you, and it’s idea of helpful is not exactly a good time.

Speaking of, I suspect that to Neketaka the City, killing anyone who ends up in the Old City quickly looks like a kindness; the original people who died there either died fast or suffered for a long time, and the City as an Entity is definitely influenced by that drawn out despair, the way the city as a city is, even if they don’t recognize that about themselves. It certainly doesn’t look like a kindness to anyone else, but I really do think that’s the City’s idea of trying to help.

There’s definitely a lot more to unpack here, like why the City is sad and how that affects things like, oh, the Vailian and Rautai presence, but I haven’t felt it out yet, and I need to do some work with the map but yeah! Neketaka is Real Damn Haunted and nobody wants to acknowledge that, and it’s very sad about everything. Tune in next time for why my gut feeling says the priest dude in Berath’s temple and also Dereo in Delver’s Row are having the best luck with the thing, while Her Majesty is accidentally fighting a war on an extra front.

[popculturebuffet]

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck: The Last of the Clan McDuck!  Review “It Was Worth THE Dime”

This is one of my faviorite comic book stories of all time. Given i’m a massive comics nerd, for both books and strips, that is the highest praise I can give this wonderful, epic, beautifully drawn and deeply emotoinal story. I first discovered it in the local library that had the second volume, and found the rest online at a now long dead fan site. And while it took me longer than I care to admit to really dig into Duck Comics, and even now i’ve only scratched the surface, I can say without a doubt this story is the reason I’m so deeply attached to Scrooge as a character, and that I was excited as  I was for Ducktales 2017. This comic showed me just what Scrooge McDuck should be at his core as a character, and showed me what a wonderful character that is. So with all that glowing praise as you can guess i’ve been wanting to cover this for years, and even considered though back when I was more primarily a comic book reviewer last year. Any time i’ve reviewed stuff before now, i’ve considered it, and with Scrooge’s Sisters Hortense and Matilda presumably and definitely debuting on Ducktales soon, and it’s about damn time, the timing could not be better or clearer to dig into this utter triumph.  But before we can take a look at the story itself we naturally have to take a look at the man behind it: Writer and Artist Don Rosa. Don Rosa is easily one of the best Duck Comics writer out there, seen by many as only second to his own faviorite duck comics writer and God of Ducks, Carl Barks. For those 1 of you who do not know, Barks was the man who created pretty much everything in the duck universe comics wise and a bit in animation too: He created Daisy, Scrooge, Gladstone, Magica, The Beagle Boys, The Junior Woodchucks, Gyro, Little Bulb, Glomgold, Rockerduck, and the list goes on. While he didn’t make EVERY duck, he made so many that it’d be impossible to imagine either version of Ducktales being possible without him.  So of course Rosa was a fan and while he took up the family buisness, he was also an artist and duck comics fanboy on the side. So when, even if it meant a paycut, the opportunity to actually write and draw them came up, he lept at it and thus became one of their publishers go to guys, even if said publisher published the stories overseas where the Duck Comics are far more popular and still going to this day, and ironically where most duck comics printed nowadays get their stories from. Rosa was known for his meticous historical research and gorgeous art that he took his time drawing to get just perfect and showed on the page. The man has easily some of hte best and most detailed duck art around and I still haven’t found a duck artist that can match him.. and if you have or found one close i’d genuinely love to see that. He is a genuinely talented, spirited guy who was sadly mistreated by disney and that, coupled with tragically failing eyesight, eventually ended his career. He’s still around and I genuinely hope to meet him some day as he still does conventions.  The man is not without fault: I don’t get his hatred of superhero comics, as while I get them overshadowing funnybooks and that around the time of his career they were in decline, but it’s just as unfair to write off Superhero comics as mindless.  garbage as it is for people to write off the Duck Comics as “only for kids” and I genuinely wish he’d see that and see how the medium has evolved so much since then. I also grumble a bit as his refusal to allow anything besides barks into his bubble, and having to be forced to include fethry on the family tree, but that’s more personal preference. I like using as much material as you got. IT’s why i’ve wanted to, and hopefully will eventually get around to, write a sonic fanfic using bits of all the various universes that for legal, ken penders being an absolute waste of a human being, and sega being stupid reasons can’t be used anymore. I like taking everything in a franchise and putting it in a blender and it’s why I love the reboot. But there’s nothing wrong with taking things as is, not stepping on toes canon wise, but still being awesome. We’re just diffrent people and that’s okay.  And a lot of his fanboy showing actually lead to REALLY good things: Goldie O’Gilt was a one off character, and while used ocasoinally overseas, didn’t really pick up as a character again until a combination of Ducktales 87 and Rosa’s work with her, as he always loved the character, and fleshing her out lead to her being used more, and gaining a sizeable fandom. He also gained the Cablleros an even bigger fandom by giving them two stories of their own, and fleshing them out a bit more.  And this very comic is the peak of that, taking EVERY mention of scrooge’s past from various backstories to set up adventures, every tiny scrap, and to his credit going to both Barks Himself and various other Barks Experts Rosa was friends with to check his work, especially difficult given he likey had to find these stories in issue or pullt hem from disney archives, and complied it into one long epic that not only uses all this info effortlessly, but spins a compelling story that gives us a clear vision of what Scrooge should be, how he became the man he is, and how he lost himself only to find himself again with the help of three precocious boys and a cynical 30 something duck. So taint all bad is what i’m saying.  As for how this got started, thankfully rosa himself provided the origin story for this project in the back of the volume of his works that contained the first 7 chapters of life and times, as well as detailed notes for every chapter. At the time Rosa was working for Egmont, the big european publisher who handles Disney’s much larger european comics market, hence why most of his stories appeared years earlier in Europe before debuting here. The american publisher at the time , and an old friend of his, called Rosa with an idea: A 12 issue Maxi-Series focusing on Scrooge’s history, since at the time they were all the rage.. and really even today mini series are still a viable market and many indie titles just have several minis instead of an ongoing. So it wasn’t a bad idea, Rosa just simply offered a tweak: He’d tell his publisher at Egmont about the idea, and let her get a crack team of writers and artists to do this proper, and thus Disney could publish it for free once it was done and for no extra cost. Rosa gave his publisher a fax detaling both the idea and the fact that it needed to be done right, given to the best person possible, and done with the greatest care. She agreed.. and naturally handed it to him, as he admits he hoped. She made the right call, a legend was born and here we are.  One last bit before the read more and before I get to the first story itself at last: Since barks wrote a lot of side stories that fit into the canon, I COULD slot them in between chapters, but have instead chosen to review the original 12 part story as was, and do the various side stories and two epilogues, the utterly fantastic “Dream of a Life Time”, easiliy one of my faviorite comics ever, and the also really great “Letter From Home”, which will likely on some level be the basis for the upcoming at the time of this review “Battle for Castle McDuck!”, after completing the story. In other words i’m probably going to be at this for years. so join me under the read more won’t you as I begin the journey of a thousand miles with a single step as we look at the humble start of a legend. 

We begin, after a fun short teaser with present Day scrooge saying his past is no one’s buisness only to get hit with an oh yeah?,  with a scrap book title for the issue, something I want to bring up since while I got that’s what it was what I never got, and  must’ve glanced over when I first read rosa’s notes when I got this copy, was that it isn’t SCROOGE’S scrap book, but his sister Matilda’s who dutifully and happily catologued her brother’s adventures. It’s a really sweet moment.. and something that will hit VERY hard when we reach Chapter 11. If you haven’t read this story or heard of it.. .that’s this story’s equilvent of “Last Crash of the Sunchaser” and clearly Frank and Matt drew from that story a bit for it, but we can get more into the parallels when we get there. A smaller but fun note is that Rosa had specific coin drawing templates, for different indentions and what not he used, and used them for the coins in these intro bits. Yes he admitted he has a problem and yes that’s damn impressive anyway. 

It’s Scrooge’s 10th birthday, and his father Fergus has taken him up to see the family land, Dismal Downs to tell him of the mighty Clan McDuck and show him the ancestral lands, graveyards and Castle. He admits to having taken this long because the Clan McDuck currently lives in Glasgow so it’s kind of a long trip just to show your son “Hey look at the decay and rot that’s our ancestral homeland”. The Clan is on hard times, as a bad shipping deal, the backbone of a rather good barks story and I wont’ be interjecting for every barks reference as it’d get rather tiring though for what it’s worth Rosa provided tons of detailed footnotes in the back of each Fantagraphics collection, so good on him. Speaking of which though they do include 10 pages of Mc Duck family history that was supposed to open this story.. until Rosa’s editor wisely pointed out the story isn’t about them but scrooge and having read his roug draft, yeah.. there’s a good gag here and there, as well as “Dirty” Dingus McDuck, scrooge’s Grandpa and the reason Dewey is cursed with that middle name. Why anyone thought Dingus was a good name is beyond me, nor why Donald thought that was a good middle name back in 2009 is again, beyond me. Good on Don though for getting that past the censors.  But yeah with no money they can’t buy the land back and they were scared off it years ago by a mystical ghost dog, the hound of the whiskervilles. There is treasure in the castle, Sir Quackly’s gold, but he accidently sealed himself into a wall while sealing his treasure in there. Their interrupted by the town assholes, the Whiskervilles who have been grazing sheep on the land and are naturally behind the hound, using the sound of it to scare off Fergus once they realize he’s a McDuck. Because apparently you can keep a Scooby Doo style hoax up for Centuries if you don’t have meddling kids around. Who knew.  Back in Glasgow, we meet the rest of Scrooge’s family: His Uncle Jake, his sisters Matilda and Hortense, and his mother Downy. Jake hasn’t really been mentioned at all in Ducktales and I know next to nothing about him, which given I share a name with the guy you’d THINK I would. I mean I know a decent amount about this Jake. 

But nothing about who the hell Jake McDuck is or why he lives with his brother and his family. Here, you guys watch the dancing Jake, i’m going to probably do that for hours after this review is done, i’m going to go sort this out.  Okay one google and finding the Scrooge Mcduck wiki page on him, Jake shows up here likely because he was referenced in the story “A Christmas For Shacktown” and apparently borrowed from Scrooge and never paid it back. Otherwise.. there’s not a lot about him and unlike the rest of Scrooge’s family he really dosen’t do much that I can remember. Except like 2017 Scrooge, he apparently has become extremely long lived, as Scrooge and Donald STILL think he’s alive in the 1950′s.. and likely is STILL alive in some form in the Don Rosa stories, given his take place after Barks and thus in the 40′s and 50′s where Barks stories were set. Hence why unlike the Reboot, Scrooge isn’t inexpecilbly over 210. But Jake McDuck sure as heck is. Maybe this highlander is a highlander.. you know the movie and tv show type. Maybe someone cut off his head. That’s what i’m going with.

This does bring me to another point about this story: While Barks gave all of scrooge’s family their names, it’s where Rosa got them after all, it’s Rosa who really made them into characters. Fergus as a loving father ashamed his family legacy has fallen and wanting his son to do better than him, Downy as an equally loving wife and mother, Matilda as his sweet and caring sister and later her brother’s moral center, and Hortense.. well here she’s just a babbling baby but her character will become clear and glorious as we go. She is adorable here though and we do get some great bits with her.  Getting back to the plot now i’ve made my points, Jake is riled up wanting to understandably kick the Whiskerville’s asses with Scrooge, who even as a sweet innocent ten year old still has the family temper already, agreeing.. but Downy gently shoots them out pointing that two middle aged-ish men and a 10-year old just aren’t enough to fight an army of them and while she doesn’t mention it the fight would just tire them out for work and accomplish nothing as while it is the McDuck’s land the combination of the hound and the lack of money to move back means it’s pointless. She also mentions their younger brother Pothole, who went to America. This will be important later. 

Scrooge storms off and Fergus laments, in a scene that’s more painful the more I think about it, how his clan has fallen, with he and his brother lamenting their chances at glory are long gone.. but Fergus has hope his son can do better, and for his son’s birthday makes him a shoeshine kit in the hopes of inspiring him to greatness. This scene still resonates since many of us are poor, struggling and not doing so good money wise. I’m sure many parents have doubts and regrets about not being able to do more for their kid.

 Not only that but the story carefully avoids the trap of Fergus accidently being abusive by you know, pinning his family’s future on one 10 year old. While yes he is asking a lot of Scrooge, to restore their family name.. it’s very clear he mostly just wants his son to do better than him. Even if Scrooge was just slightly more successful, Fergus would likely be happy with that. He’s not using the legacy as a “This what you must be” like say the Gems in steven universe did for Steven with Rose’s Legacy, the kind where it sort of suffocates you till youc an make it your own. He’s just saying “this is what you can be” He believes his child can be great and simply once him to reach his full potetial and is simply giving him a means to hopefully do so, a simple home made shoe shine kit. While Jake scoffs, the narration notes the idea isn’t worth a dime.. it’s worth THE dime. The dime that would set Scrooge’s destiny in motion. 

The next morning, Fergus goes to check up on his son and his new buisness but Scroogey’s having no luck and about ready to just quit, the poor child. Also Matilda is dragging her baby sister around like a doll and it’s entirely precious as it is funny. 

But as for those Dorty Boots, Matilda wonders why her dad dosen’t just tell Scrooge that Burt the Ditch Digger is coming. Fergus tells her to quite and then explains his plan: he’s sending Burt to scrooge, with an American dime Fergus and Matilda found, to teach his son a lesson: By giving him a hard days work, he’ll teach him what hard work truly means.. and by having Burt “cheat” him with the American dime, it’ll give him the motivation to keep going and to nto be as wide eyed and trusting. It’s a well meaning if harsh lesson, and the kind you’d expect from 1900′s parenting and fits the origin well: Scrooge still earned his first money square, as he still did work.. but his getting cheated being a lesson dosen’t diminish what it taught scrooge, and helps flesh out what I talked about above, Fergus knowing his son has great potential he just needs inspiration to reach it. And instead of just telling him that he does a con job but it’s the 1900′s. This orign, and Fergus’ part in it would be entirely untouched in Ducktales 2017, the first scrooge based adaptation since this comic came out, and I bless them for it. Frank even said this comic was used as a bible by the writers and while theirs clear deviations, and we’ll get to that, they were mainly done for good reason, and it’s very clear that while scrooge’s history is very VERY diffrent in the reboot, the core of his past is still there. 

So the plan is on and young scrooge spends half an hour killing himself to get Burt’s shoes clean before getting his dime.. and realizing he’s been had, makes this proud decleration that will be the bedrock of his entire life and character. 

Scrooge being naturally stubborn as you can see takes his cheats a leson: There will always be hard honest work, and he will be there to do it and he’ll be tougher and sharper than anyone trying to cheat him out of his pay. Fergus’ plan has the intended effect, and Scrooge having learned a hard lesson now has the drive and determination we know him for. As for why it gives it to him.. I had to think on it a bit but it makes sense: For some a setback like this would make them quit.. for Scrooge it’s just proof he CAN find customers, he CAN do this job, or any at his hardest and instead takes this as a lesson to be prepared ot out think and outfight anyone who dares cheat him again, and to not earn his money by being the kind of guy who cheats a kid out of an honest days pay, but as a good honest duck like his father and his father before him. =He will make his money square so he can be the kind of person this seeming stranger SHOULD have been. Granted we’ll see Scrooge doesn’t end up as the best person at times but .. we’ll get there.  So with the fire inside turned from a spark into the flame Scrooge soon got to work, and by the next panel we see he’s eventually worked his stand up from a small box given to him by his dad, to a three seater shoeshining bench, who he wipes all at once by stretching one of his mother’s girldes over a light pole, a detail I didn’t get the first time around but now love. Naturally being a good kind boy much like his Nephews, Scrooge always gave his proud father a portion of his earnings, if with a full receipt for tax purposes. Because he’s still scrooge after all. His dad wonders he did too good a job while Hortense glxbit’s in agreement. 

As the years go on, a now tween Scrooge is eventually able to save up for a horse cart, and starts selling Fire Wood up in the city. He eventually realizes Peat, an earthy subtance found in bogs I only know about because I had to look it up for this review, is more profitable and with some snappy marketing moves into selling Peat for the rich instead, also showing the young lad already has a grasp of how to sell to obnoxious rich people. 

But while his business is booming, our young hero can’t resist visiting his family’s ancestral home and longing for it, hoping one day to have it for himself and in a nice show of how despite his temper and tenacity forged over the last few years he’s still at hear the kind, sweet optimistic lad he was just a few pages ago, he decides to tidy up the Clan’s Cemetary while he’s here. 

Unfortunately as proof that Donald and Della’s terrible luck comes from both sides of the family the Whiskervilles are sub-glomgold levels of human beings.. or Dogfaces in this case, and are digging up the McDuck Clan’s graves to hunt for treasure. Scrooge tries to simply do the smart thing and flee, but the asshole brigade catch sight of him and mistkaing him for a peat burgalar chase after him.. and spend WAY too much time and energy chasing a teenage boy over some fucking bog grass you clearly aren’t selling yourselves. I mean spare a thought for how dumb this is: They could easily sell of of that peat to put up a fence or chop down some trees to get the material if their really that concerned about someone getting in the bog. Then again this isn the 1800 and 1900′s where the child death toll was simply “Yes”, so they likely thought whose gonna notice one more dead child on our property?

Scrooge heads toward the castle and is gestured in by a friendly mystery duck who gladly shows him around and can tell he’s a McDuck just by look, showing the castle is still in glorious condition as the whiskervilles are too spooked to go in, hence why they didn’t chase Scrooge inside. I’d say being afraid of ghosts but not murdering a child is weird but these are the same guys who thought murdering a child was plan A. We’re not dealing with a brain trust is what i’m saying.  So the mystery duck shows Scroogey around, showing off some colorful stories about his ancestors recycled from that scrapped prologue I mentioned. THe mystery man, who brushes off Scrooge thinking he’s a McDuck asks Scrooge what he’s doing to restore the family glory and while Scrooge points out he’s already working on it, Mystery Duck points out he’s still missing something: He has the drive and the dream, but peat and shoeshining, while getting him good money for his family, aren’t the thing you can build a fortune or a future off of. He then points out where Scrooge’s dime comes from: America.. and that gives the boy the idea to head to the states. As for what he could possibly DO there to start, the mystery guy mentions his uncle pothole. So Scrooge has the dream, the drive.. and now a plan: Go to america, work for his uncle on the riverboats, and work his way up from there till he finds his fortune and restores his family name.  But while his future is settled, the present is still an issue and Scrooge wants to teach the child murder club a lesson and thus borrows, though MM wisely points out it’s all his property a horse and some armor, and stuffs the armor with peat. As for what his plan is.. welllll

That.. is fucking awesome. And far from the last fucking awesome moment in this thing. It also shows off even as not quite a teen yet, Scrooge is still a badass already, and while he doesn’t have his trademark strength or fighting skills quite yet, his ingenuity is already there.. and that will always trump both. The Whiskervilles run away and into some quicksand and Scrooge vows to return one day as laird and reclaim his family land. But that’s a story for a few chapters down the line. As for who the mystery duck is, he’s naturally Sir Quackely himself, or rather his ghost, who was simply guiding Scrooge and didn’t give him the treasure as simply handing him the money wouldnn’t restore their family’s good name or continue their bloodline now would it? 

For now Scrooge returns to work for a bit before finding his way to America: A cattleboat to New Orleans looking for a Cabin Boy. And so Scrooge bids farewell to his family. His Dad, feeling bad he can’t even give his boy shilling, gives him the family pocketwatch with jake pitching in with the family gold dentures. While Scrooge naturally refuses to sell the watch, he does plan to sell the teeth as soon as possible for good reason. We then get some sweet goodbyes with him, his sisters (With hortense uttering her first words to everyone’s astonishment) and loving mother as he wonders just what awaits him in America. 

And there he stands on the bow of a ship, heading for a new land, in New Orleans he can be a new man. And we’ll see just what kind of man he becomes as this series continues. For now this is the end of a chapter but the beginning of a lifetime. 

Final Thoughts on Last of the Clan McDuck:

This story is excellent. While there are even better chapters to come, this one is still one of the most memorable and most joyous, showing just how Scrooge became what he is, where some of his values come from, others will be instilled along the way , and beginning to flesh out his family. We see Scrooge’s love of wealth comes from starting from the bottom, growing up with a family that barely had anything and badly needed everything, but was loving and instilled fine morals in him. We also see a Scrooge far removed from the bitter old man he is in present day, an optimistic naïve young lad who only wants best for his family. It’s a nice stark contrast to who he’ll become, good and bad, and a nice way to both compare him to Huey Dewey and Louie and break your heart as his own hardens before briefly turning black later on.  The art, as is standard for this series and Rosa, is breathtaking, and the story isn’t lacking in good jokes, their just downplayed so the story itself can take center stage. There’s nothing really more to say: it’s an excellent start to an even more excellent tale and stands proud among an already stellar story as one of it’s finest outings. 

NEXT RAINBOW: Scrooge goes down to the mighty Missipi to work on the riverboats and meets one of his signature Rogue’s for the first time in their first form, as well as Gyro’s dad.. or grandpa.. or possibly both I don’t know his family tree. Point is, tune in next time for some riverboat hyjinks.  Until then if you’d like to comission an episode of any animated show, especially ducktales and the various other duck related disney shows, or another Duck Comics story you really like from Rosa, Barks or whoever you want really, I take commissions for 5 dollars a review, with 5 dollars off your full order when you put in for more than one episode or issue. You can also follow me on patreon.com/popculturebuffet and for just two bucks a month get access to polls (which i’ll start once we have at least three patreons), and my exclusive discord server. And if you liked this review be sure to reblog it to show off. My self promotion done until next time: There’s always another rainbow.