#name format for call history

[freeexceldownloads]

Employee Call Log

Download free excel template for capturing enquiries and service request from Employees in an organization or entity. This template can be useful for administration department or health care department in an organization. Importance of call log for employees in organization Talking about any organization, there are various departments. Each department can be categorized as profit center, cost…

[transingthoseformers]

Wrote down a little bullshitted up lineage of primes thing as a treat, and I threw in a few of primes for a gap in between Prime Nova and Nova Prime, the latter is in my list as "Nova Prime 2: electric boogaloo" which is hilarious.

The oc primes:

Prime Proxima, Prime Plerion, Caerulus Prime, Cepheidis Prime, Asterism Prime, Luminus Prime, and Theta prime

[fairuzfan]

AMAZING article about what it means to participate in anti-Zionism work both online and in person.

If your anti-zionism does not in any way acknowledge that it is a way of thought and practice led by and for Palestinians, then you need to reevaluate your "anti-zionism" label.

Some passages that felt especially relevant to tumblr:

If we accept, as those with even the most rudimentary understanding of history do, that zionism is an ongoing process of settler-colonialism, then the undoing of zionism requires anti-zionism, which should be understood as a process of decolonisation. Anti-zionism as a decolonial ideology then becomes rightly situated as an indigenous liberation movement. The resulting implication is two-fold. First, decolonial organising requires that we extract ourselves from the limitations of existing structures of power and knowledge and imagine a new, just world. Second, this understanding clarifies that the caretakers of anti-zionist thought are indigenous communities resisting colonial erasure, and it is from this analysis that the strategies, modes, and goals of decolonial praxis should flow. In simpler terms: Palestinians committed to decolonisation, not Western-based NGOs, are the primary authors of anti-zionist thought. We write this as a Palestinian and a Palestinian-American who live and work in Palestine, and have seen the impact of so-called ‘Western values’ and how the centring of the ‘human rights’ paradigm disrupts real decolonial efforts in Palestine and abroad. This is carried out in favour of maintaining the status quo and gaining proximity to power, using our slogans emptied of Palestinian historical analysis.

Anti-zionist organising is not a new notion, but until now the use of the term in organising circles has been mired with misunderstandings, vague definitions, or minimised outright. Some have incorrectly described anti-zionism as amounting to activities or thought limited to critiques of the present Israeli government – this is a dangerous misrepresentation. Understanding anti-zionism as decolonisation requires the articulation of a political movement with material, articulated goals: the restitution of ancestral territories and upholding the inviolable principle of indigenous repatriation and through the right of return, coupled with the deconstruction of zionist structures and the reconstitution of governing frameworks that are conceived, directed, and implemented by Palestinians.  Anti-zionism illuminates the necessity to return power to the indigenous community and the need for frameworks of justice and accountability for the settler communities that have waged a bloody, unrelenting hundred-year war on the people of Palestine. It means that anti-zionism is much more than a slogan. 

[...]

While our collective imaginations have not fully articulated what a liberated and decolonised Palestine looks like, the rough contours have been laid out repeatedly. Ask any Palestinian refugee displaced from Haifa, the lands of Sheikh Muwannis, or Deir Yassin – they will tell that a decolonised Palestine is, at a minimum, the right of Palestinians’ return to an autonomous political unit from the river to the sea. When self-proclaimed ‘anti-zionists’ use rhetoric like ‘Israel-Palestine’ – or worse, ‘Palestine-Israel’ – we wonder: where do you think ‘Israel’ exists? On which land does it lay, if not Palestine? This is nothing more than an attempt to legitimise a colonial state; the name you are looking for is Palestine – no hyphen required. At a minimum, anti-zionist formations should cut out language that forces upon Palestinians and non-Palestinian allies the violence of colonial theft. 

[...]

The common choice to centre the Oslo Accords, international humanitarian law, and the human rights paradigm over socio-historical Palestinian realities not only limits our analysis and political interventions; it restricts our imagination of what kind of future Palestinians deserve, sidelining questions of decolonization to convince us that it is the new, bad settlers in the West Bank who are the source of violence. Legitimate settlers, who reside within the bounds of Palestinian geographies stolen in 1948 like Tel Aviv and West Jerusalem, are different within this narrative. Like Breaking the Silence, they can be enlightened by learning the error of colonial violence carried out in service of the bad settlers. They can supposedly even be our solidarity partners – all without having to sacrifice a crumb of colonial privilege or denounce pre-1967 zionist violence in any of its cruel manifestations. As a result of this course of thought, solidarity organisations often showcase particular Israelis – those who renounce state violence in service of the bad settlers and their ongoing colonisation of the West Bank – in roles as professionals and peacemakers, positioning them on an equal intellectual, moral, or class footing with Palestinians. There is no recognition of the inherent imbalance of power between these Israelis and the Palestinians they purport to be in solidarity with – stripping away their settler status. The settler is taken out of the historical-political context which afforded them privileged status on stolen land, and is given the power to delineate the Palestinian experience. This is part of the historical occlusion of the zionist narrative, overlooking the context of settler-colonialism to read the settler as an individual, and omitting their class status as a settler. 

It is essential to note that Palestinians have never rejected Jewish indigeneity in Palestine. However, the liberation movement has differentiated between zionist settlers and Jewish natives. Palestinians have established a clear and rational framework for this distinction, like in the Thawabet, the National Charter of Palestine from 1968. Article 6 states, ‘The Jews who had normally resided in Palestine until the beginning of the Zionist invasion will be considered Palestinians.’ When individuals misread ‘decolonisation’ as ‘the mass killing or expulsion of Jews,’ it is often a reflection of their own entanglement in colonialism or a result of zionist propaganda. Perpetuating this rhetoric is a deliberate misinterpretation of Palestinian thought, which has maintained this position over a century of indigenous organising.  Even after 100 years of enduring ethnic cleansing, whole communities bombed and entire family lines erased, Palestinians have never, as a collective, called for the mass killing of Jews or Israelis. Anti-zionism cannot shy away from employing the historical-political definitions of ‘settler’ and ‘indigenous’ in their discourse to confront ahistorical readings of Palestinian decolonial thought and zionist propaganda. 

[...]

In the context of the United States, the most threatening zionist institutions are the entrenched political parties which function to maintain the status quo of the American empire, not Hillel groups on university campuses or even Christian zionist churches. While the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) and the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) engage in forms of violence that suppress Palestinian liberation and must not be minimised, it is crucial to recognise that the most consequential institutions in the context of settler-colonialism are not exclusively Jewish in their orientation or representation: the Republican and Democratic Party in the United States do arguably more to manufacture public consent for the slaughtering of Palestinians than the ADL and AIPAC combined. Even the Progressive Caucus and the majority of ‘The Squad’ are guilty of this.

Leila Shomali and Lara Kilani

[harianaswhore]

⟡ other drivers ⟡

NONE OF THESE ARE WRITTEN BY ME

ᵐʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᶜˢ

— ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳⁱᵈ ⟡

barty the 2nd (smau) - @lorarri

thirsty thoughts (VERY suggestive) (^)

missing piece (angsty) - @katebishopsbow

grid kids (series, sebastian vettel and grid) - @pucksandpower

vettel reincarnate (series) - @disneyprincemuke

positions (by ari) fics (this is everything to me btw) - @turcott3

birthday wishes (smau) - @mclqren

drunk bf texts (text message format) - @csainzoperator

written in the stars (soulmate!au, different drivers) - @oofthwoods

points have been made (lestappen x reader) - @sinofwriting

— ˢᶜᵉⁿᵃʳⁱᵒˢ/ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ ⟡

makeup shopping with the boys (f) - @verstappen-cult

getting caught making out with the boys (sexual references) (^)

boys reacting to being called pretty (mostly f) - @ln444

a privilege called love (f) - @inblurtub

dating f1 drivers (mostly f) - @hauntedrain

moment f1 boys realized you were the one (f) - @itsvelyria

"where they would like to kiss you" (^)

in a relationship with the f1 drivers (suggestive) - @its44indahouse

f1 driver's favorite spot to kiss you - @mirohlayo

names the f1 drivers would call their partner - @lightsoutletsgo

— ᵒˢᶜᵃʳ ᵖⁱᵃˢᵗʳⁱ ⟡

rookie love (smau) - @astonmartinii

kiss it better (^)

cherry lip balm (^)

the smile (smau) - @dreamauri

stick around (f) - @scuderiahoney

my valentine (s) - @thatsdemko

confidence (smau) - @maplesyrupsainz

barbie (smau) - @isimpoveryou

call me your fool (s) - @userlando

he likes my american smile two three four five six seven eight nine - @f1byjessie

heaven won't be the same - @81folklore

angel eyes (smau) - @keerysfreckles

high definition (smau) (^)

heart eyes (smau) - @planetpiastri

when in rome (smau) - @nxrrislando

— ˡᵉʷⁱˢ ʰᵃᵐⁱˡᵗᵒⁿ ⟡

king of my heart (smau) - @cieloclercs

keys to the benz (smau, sexual innuendo) - @imnameimswrld

fashionable couple (smau) - @formulaa-1

hi barbie ! hi ken ! two (smau) - @redbullgirly

him being a simp for you (headcannon) - @itaipava

thick and thin (f,a)- @agendabymooner

around the world (f)- @lewisvinga

him mentioning you (f) - @pickingupmymercedes

— ᵐⁱᶜᵏ ˢᶜʰᵘᵐᵃᶜʰᵉʳ ⟡

jealous!mick (f) - @folkloresthings

i see the light (f) - @writingshushf1

santa doesn't know you like i do (f) - @f1version

interrupted (mentions of smut) - @russellsppttemplates

leclerc!reader (smau) - @pucksandpower

maahi ve (smau) - @love-belle

vlog (smau) - @absolutelynotmate-archive

count me in (smau) - @verstarppen

lovers rock not allowed christmas kids (f) - @luckylzclerc

a vettel and a schumacher walk into a bar (f) knock knock (smau) - @monzabee

sweet dream was over my hand was the one you reached for (a) - @v5ttelfilms

— ᵈᵃⁿⁱᵉˡ ʳⁱᶜᶜᵃʳᵈᵒ ⟡

ultimate wing man (smau) - @astonmartinii

keep it private (smau) - @marlenesluv

forever kind of love (smau) - @chrisevansonly

— ᵃʳᵗʰᵘʳ ˡᵉᶜˡᵉʳᶜ ⟡

kissing in the rain (f) - @thebearchives

forgiveness (f) - @starlost97

fan behavior (smau) - @lxclerc

black cat gf (smau) (^)

it's you and me (smau) - @lecsainz

party girl two (smau) - @natailiatulls07

— ˢᵉᵇᵃˢᵗⁱᵃⁿ ᵛᵉᵗᵗᵉˡ ⟡

jealousy jealousy (s) - @uluvjay

just you wait sunshine (a) - @unsolvedjarin

helmet kisses (headcannons) - @forteafy

drink water, not alchol (f) - @sebscore

me and my husband (smau) - @starkwlkr

i wait for you two three (smau) (^)

cherry flavoured (rbr!seb my love) (f) (^)

you've got a 9 to 5 so i'll take the nightshift (a) - @httpsleclerc

always an angel, never a god (!!!! EASTING DISORDER !!!) (a) (^)

come back to me (CRASH) (a)- @lucyrose191

a shared history two three (f) (^)

history series (f,a,s)- @vettelsvee

about you two three four five (f (for now))- @drvscarlett

[notaplaceofhonour]

In the decades leading up to the formation of Israel, there were multiple pogroms against Jews in Mandatory Palestine

Grand Mufti Hajj Amin al-Husseini (the Arab ruler in Mandatory Palestine during the Holocaust) literally collaborated with the Nazis

Palestinian Arabs revolted against Britain because they hated how Britain had allowed so many Jews to flee Nazi Germany to Palestine after Hitler came to power, and to appease them Britain adopted a policy that ended practically all Jewish immigration during the deadliest years of the Holocaust

None of this history in any way justifies violence against the innocent civilians of Palestine, nor should it EVER be used to paint Arabs, Muslims, or Palestinians with a broad brush, much less to demonize them

And there were exceptions: there were Palestinian Arabs who were friendly to Jews in Mandatory Palestine, just as there were Jews who were friendly to Arabs—there was even an antifascist association in Palestine during the 30s (one of the oldest know organizations to use the name “Antifa”) built around antifascism, Arab-Jewish solidarity, & bi-national zionism. Just as there are still to this day Israelis & Palestinians working together against their respective governments’ actions for a mutually beneficial peace.

But just as it would be offensively dishonest to use the modern peace movements to ignore the atrocities being committed in Israel-Palestine today, it would be dishonest to do the same with atrocities in 1920s-40s Palestine. To portray that era’s Palestine as welcoming a fledgling Israel with open arms, willingly “sheltering” it—in fact nurturing it like a loving caretaker looking after a defenseless cub he took in—is such a cartoonishly obvious distortion of reality it would be hilarious if it weren’t preying on so many people’s ignorance to simultaneously revise & deny Mandatory Palestine’s role in the Holocaust and compare Israel to Nazi Germany (itself a form of Holocaust Revision called Holocaust Inversion)

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day nineteen: hate sex

>>> i’m really taking some liberties with this prompt LMFAOOOOO listen. y’all should just be thanking me this wasn’t a gojo kinktober. leave me be. also this is the first piece since my laptop kicked the bucket so PLEASE ignore the UGLY formatting i will fix it as soon as i get a new laptop.

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: ghostie gojo jdjdfkgk, bestie nanami, uhh spankings, choking, doggy, prone bone, cream pie, pet names (sweetheart) and mean names (dickhead, asshole) >>> wc: 4.5k >>> event masterlist

everything was perfect. he was a great partner despite all the people that warned you that the special grade sorcerer was incapable of it. he was wonderful and sweet and considerate, even. he brought you lunch at work and took you on wonderfully lavish dates. he texted you constantly and showered you with gifts. you had only been together for a few months, though almost a year of history had led you here. you were happy, proving everyone who doubted your relationship wrong. until you realized that they were only trying to keep you from this reality.

“i love you, you know.” you told him, swinging your intertwined hands between you as he walked you home. this was a truth you’ve known since the relationship was too fresh to say such things, but a truth nonetheless. he hid it well in the moment, but that was the death sentence to a man like satoru gojo. he knew it was only a matter of time—yet his heart stopped in his chest, turning to steel before falling out of his ass. but he made sure his smile never faltered.

“oh yeah? i’ll add you to the list.” he chuckled, poking your side to make you laugh at the stupid taunt. it worked well enough, you didn’t seem to catch on to his avoidance. you didn’t chastise him for not saying it back, at least.

he walked you to your front door like normal. he gave you a goodbye and goodnight kiss like normal, he even smiled so genuinely and told you he’d call you in the morning—just like normal.

but when morning came, his call didn’t. no big deal, you thought, he’s a very busy man. once he gets some free time, he’ll call. but hours pass, and you don’t get so much as a text to apologize or let you know he was going to be late. you keep staring at his contact, debating whether or not you should bother or not for an hour or so. but a text couldn’t be too distracting, so you type something up.

‘good morning! or afternoon now, lol–i missed ur call, i hope ur having a good day!! call me when you can xx’

it doesn’t deliver. you furrow your brows and try it again, but it still doesn’t go through. you move to a different area of your house, thinking it was spotty reception in your bedroom. you try to send the text again—but it still doesn’t send. you try to call, your heart now pounding in your ears. something must have malfunctioned, right? after all your years as friends and these brief months exploring more—he wouldn’t just block you, right?

the phone call doesn’t ring, just an automated voice telling you that that the call couldn’t be completed as dialed. he blocked you. without so much as a hint to why. everything was perfect last night, he was all smiles and laughter, what could have changed? you want to call the only mutual connection you have—ieiri shoko—but decide it’s best not to involve her in the matter between two of her friends. it’s not tasteful and if there’s any chance of this being a misunderstanding, then taking it to your friends is the last thing you want to do. you could maybe ask nanami for advice at work in the morning—you wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends, but he’s how you met the strongest man alive. so he has to have some tips! yes, you’ll talk to nanami about it first thing tomorrow.

talk his ear off about it is more apt if you ask the grade one who merely dabbles in business work. he tried to be polite and listen to the tale—but your first mistake was in dealing with gojo in the first place. there was no advice in the world to fix that amount of stupid, especially if you were looking to get him back. but nanami catches the issue as soon as you recount the tale of your last conversation with the special grade.

“you told him that you love him?” he clarified with a raised brow. based on the judgment that flashes in his eyes, you know that was the wrong move. you huff in frustration.

“you introduced me to him—why would you set me up like this nanakun??” you pout, angrily folding your arms over one another. it’s a shitty attempt to take the heat off yourself, and nanami can appreciate it.

“hardly. he shoved his way in my office and you happened to be in there already.” he rolls his eyes. trust him, he did not want to see more of gojo—and dating his workplace’s secretary only meant that the annoying presence followed him even here. “i strongly advised against it. i knew we would end up here.”

you shoot him a glance, but his unamused face remains unchanging. you ignored everyone’s warnings, choosing the results he was giving you as reason enough for them to be wrong. did he enjoy leading you on and wasting his time? what was the game in all this?

“you shouldn’t have gone after him at all. but you definitely shouldn’t have told him you love him first.” nanami nearly seemed horrified. or what you imagined he would look like when horrified, eyes slightly widened and jaw dropped partially.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. maybe it’s because you knew how you felt for so long. maybe it was just because satoru put you at ease—none of the reasons matter now.

“it’s hard for him to do serious. love is as serious as it gets.” nanami sighs wistfully. you were a nice girl who didn’t deserve to be another name on the list of hearts broken by satoru gojo. for your own good, you should forget all about him and sorcerers as a whole. you would be much better off. but something about that look on your face paired with the fact that he knows satoru has never been happier in his miserable existence makes nanami sigh. “he’s just afraid of committing. the only person he ever loved just up and left him one day. so just…try to let him go. let him come back if he wants—if you want. maybe then he’ll be ready.”

your heart warms at your friend’s words. it was clear he couldn’t care less if things worked out or not, but he wanted you to feel better. you smile softly at his words, “thank you nanakun, i’ll try to…let him go.”

you think you did a pretty good job of that. as time went on, you think you even managed to convince yourself you didn’t want him back at all. if he could just flake out on you—look you in the face and lie—you didn’t want him. no matter how sexy and sweet and strong he was, trust is the most important thing. you keep your head down and work hard, catching up with nanami and learning any updates on your sorcerer that way.

apparently he was casually dating around, but nothing nearly as serious as you. he made sure of that. he hadn’t heard an ‘i love you’ in years, and while he may have thought it at different times throughout the past couple of dates you’ve been on, he hadn’t said it. even thinking it was bad enough. that meant you held an unimaginable and concerning amount of power over him. that meant you could crush his soul into a million pieces. that meant you could ruin him—and he can’t go through that again. the possibility of handing himself over to deep and passionate love was beautiful in theory but terrifying in practice, and the thought of giving in just to lose a second time were odds he just wasn’t willing to gamble with.

so he did it first. if he broke your heart you couldn’t break his.

so why does he feel so bad? so empty? every pretty girl he carted around after that was a weak competitor. they were nice enough, but so shallow and boring—they treated him like everyone else. you were special. you treated him like a person. someone with feelings and dreams and regrets. you asked him questions. real questions that made him think about real answers, nothing surface level like his favorite color or movie. you wanted to know him. and he let you learn just some of his darkest days and you told him you love him anyway. and he ran away from you. goddamn. he’s his own worst enemy.

he shows up with flowers one day, six weeks after you’ve broken up—or he dumped you. it was a normal day until then, but it certainly wouldn’t be after. it was laughably large bouquet, it almost looked like he was struggling to hold it all. your eyes must look like two full moons based off of his amused yet apologetic smile. you have to make yourself stop your smile before it spreads.

“hi…” he said nervously, shifting his weight foot to foot. he messed up—how could he make up for it? “i was wondering—“

“leave.” your shaky voice manages to croak out, quickly looking down at your paperwork. you had to avoid his stare, surely he would figure you all out if he looked deep enough. nanami said to make him work for it.

“flowers aren’t your thing, huh?” he seems undeterred—in fact, he seems emboldened by your reaction. “that’s fine. i’ll leave them here…” he styles them on your desk, sweeping your stapler and pencil sharpener and organizers to the side to accommodate the large vase. you watch him carelessly move things about, forcing you to accept his gift.

“you’re annoying.” you groan, though the flowers are gorgeous. they’re the same kinds you pointed to when you went on a nature walk one time—something he swore he was going to hate but ended up being one of his favorite outings with you. you seemed to have that effect on him.

“i know! one of my better qualities, i think.” he hums happily, chlorinated pools of crystal blue stare at you over the lenses of his casual sunglasses. he traded in the blindfold in hopes of winning you back—he wasn’t above playing dirty, even if he was the reason he had to play at all.

“as opposed to? ghosting?” you raise your brow. he sighs. he doesn’t know what he expected. he knew you wouldn’t fall right back into his arms, but that biting look in your eye makes him wonder if he’s messed things up beyond repair. either way, he won’t go down without a fight.

“yes—that’s one of the bad ones.” he scrunches his nose in distaste. he bends at the waist to lean his elbows on your desk, propping his face up in his hands. “look sweetheart—“

you scoff, leaning back in your office chair with something akin to amusement. you fold your arms over your chest and arch your brow, and even though you are absolutely pissed, you still manage to make his heart skip a beat. “don’t call me that, you fucked me up. or does that it make you happier?”

“you think i’m bringing you flowers for my health or something? i’m trying to apologize!” he whines, tugging a lone flower out of the bouquet and extending it toward you. “i’m an asshole, i know, and i don’t deserve to call you sweetheart—“

“i don’t accept.” you tilt your nose in the air. he swears he can see the hint of a smirk on your lips, and he sighs. you hold the power yet again, but this time he’s going to allow it.

“what can i do to make it up to you? it was a mistake..i see that now.” he frowns, looking down at the pale pink petals brushing against his fingers.

“mm, yeah? i’m sure fucking a bunch of other women helped clear that up.” you look at the flower in his hand too, examining the brightness, the absolute perfection of the petals. it almost withers with the man holding it.

“wh-what?” he blinked rapidly. he hadn’t had sex with anyone—god no, he can’t do fleeting connections, and in his heart of hearts he knew that none of them would fill the void you left behind. but your jealousy…now that he could use. “aw, baby, just say you missed me. i could clear up some things for you too.”

you snarl at the insinuation, even more annoyed that he didn’t deny romping around with other women after dropping you like it was nothing.

“i’m sure you wish you could, baby, but i’m not sloppy seconds.” you take the flower and snap the stem, tossing it on your desk without second thought. he pouts at the gesture, deciding that words were no use on you, he hums. he knows how to handle this.

“no, but you are more delicious the second time.” he sings, and you get up from your desk in frustration. he was so irritating. did he think that he could just disappear on you like that and you’d just forgive him like nothing? you huff up at him, gathering all your stuff and shoving it into your office bag. nanami watches from the stairs—and he’s proud that you’re making gojo work for it, at least.

you stomp out of the office building with all the theatrics at your disposal, and it only makes satoru smirk as he walks after you. god you want him so bad, he thinks. he catches the office door before you can slam it closed behind you, sliding his palm across the wooden panels with a suave coolness. it’s like he has the situation completely under control, strolling leisurely after the little lady stomping and yelling at him over her shoulder. he knows he fucked up, and if you wanted to blast him through the city on your route home, then he’d smile and walk dumbly after you.

your heart was racing. he was still following you—and you knew if he cornered you alone, there would be no denying him. your brain was fighting hard enough to deny him back in the office already. your blood is boiling. why do you want him back so bad? he left you—is sleeping with other women, even, and you're letting him tail you to your house. you shut the door on him, but he just teleports into your living room anyways. you give him a look—not sure what else to say. ordering him out would be futile—as you didn’t want him to and he clearly wouldn’t obey.

he’s smug, sitting on your couch with one long leg crossed over the other one, his arm stretched across the back of the couch like he’s just waiting to put it around you. he stares at you knowingly, but that smirk is driving you insane.

“stop looking at me like that—and get out of my house.” you try meekly, at least you could say you could. your eyes narrow at his unmoving form and he can’t help but chuckle a little bit.

“you’re trying so hard to be mad at me, sweetheart.” he hums, arching a brow in amusement. he bats those long white eyelashes at you like he’s just ready for you to admit the truth and come crumble in his lap.

“i’m pissed, not trying that hard at all.” you scoff and shake your head, tossing your bag on the floor so that you may properly cross your arms at him. “you lied to my face, ghosted me, and now you’re acting like i’m being ridiculous for not accepting your flowers and taking you back?”

he shakes his head, a little nonchalant frown on his face. “you aren’t ridiculous for that—“ he stands and makes his way to you, not even bothering to hide the way he eyes you up and down. “you’re ridiculous for pretending you don’t want to. i could make this allll better if you’d just let me, sweetheart.”

his breath is as icy as his eyes when he leans down, brow arched like he’s asking a question. he is, you realize, he wants to know if you’ll let him.

“i never really slept with anyone, sweetheart. promise. was just trying to get you off my mind. didn’t work—made everything worse, actually. i got what i deserved.” he sighs softly, noting the hesitation on your face but the want in your eyes. he reaches a tentative hand to your face, giving you a soft smile when you let him touch you. “i’m sorry…you’re all i can think about. i just got nervous—i’m so stupid. beyond stupid—“

you smash your lips onto his to keep him from yapping. all he had to do was apologize. really apologize and mean it—but you would still punish him for walking away. you would make sure he could never do it again, lest he’ll never be able to get you out of his head even in death.

his hands grab at your dress, pulling you against his body in one fluid motion. the kiss changes moods entirely. the room feels like it’s buzzing now, his passion felt through the way he moves. he slides over your ass, kneading and fisting the fat with a groan into your mouth. you step into him, backing him to the couch. he grins against your lips like always—his kiss was warm and apologetic, lips hurriedly slotting over yours in an effort to make up for his transgressions.

he falls into a seat, pulling you into his lap with him. he sees your plan, and won’t go down without a fight. he promised to straighten you out after all. but letting you think you’re in charge was adorable, so he didn’t mind to indulge in it. you push his chest back with your own, grabbing his chin in your hand roughly. his back hits the couch and he can’t hold back his little giggle as his hands follow the paths of your body, though a satisfied hum follows at the feeling.

“you are sorry—a sorry piece of shit.” you huff, repeatedly kissing him over and over with all the anger you’ve been pinning up for the past few weeks without him. he grunts lowly, opening his mouth to invite you deeper. you take his willingness as a gift, plunging your tongue in his mouth and making sure yours stays in control. he tastes like honey and cinnamon, and it was a taste you missed more than you let yourself believe.

“pieces of shit must be your type though.” he sasses, standing up with you on his lap. he knows where your room is based on his extensive stays over, it’s nearly muscle memory for him to kick your door open with the point of his shoe, smiling up at you like no time had passed —like no bad blood had resulted from it. he throws you down like you weigh nothing, though he takes a seat on the side. upon hearing you gasp at his words, he scoffs and shakes his head. “don’t even think about it. i’ll fuck it out of you anyway.”

you can’t deny the way your body tingles and warms at his command. he’s usually soft and sweet, just rough enough to satisfy any cravings of yours—but he never struck obedience into your soul. your mouth closes, and he chuckles a little bit at your change. “that’s better. now if you wanna keep poppin’ off with attitude, i’ll get nasty instead of the sweet apology i planned for you.”

you roll your eyes, he was testing it. “don’t tempt me—“ you huff, a little annoyed at how easily your body gives up. you didn’t want to give him the ego boost of obedience, so you give him the attitude requested. “you messed up—i’ll talk to you however I want—“

he sighs and tugs at you, pulling your body at will. he splays you across his lap—long legs hanging over the edge of your bed. your dress is shoved up over your ass, and the tiny string of your thong is drawn back and snapped against the flesh. it makes you squeal a little in surprise, but you would be lying to say you didn’t want more.

“oh i’m a piece of shit, who are these for, nyeh?” he flicks your panties again, the sensation a small pleasurable sting.

“you dumped me—they’re for whoever i want.” you huff at him, even if his jealousy makes your heart warm. he slaps the fat of your ass lightly, humming at the way you jolt.

“yeah?” he smacks your other side, “i didn’t fuck anybody though. knew i needed you.” he spanks the same spot, the sting intensifies so wonderfully and makes your head spin. you can’t help the little moans that leave you with every slap.

“didn’t fuck anybody either, dickhead.” you pant, tossing him a glare over your shoulder. his free hand comes to grab your throat, sinewy warm and soft fingers wrap around your column with a tight grip—though not enough to restrict any airflow, of course. his cock stabs into your side at the sight. he grins brightly, almost sadistic in nature.

“you’re silly.” he hums, squeezing your throat until your eyes cross a little. he hums at you, the vision enough to make him painfully hard, but he always knows when to let up. he slaps your ass in conjunction with his little squeeze. he knows how to keep your eyes on him— repeatedly shaking his head, like he disapproves of you. “so pretty though. but mouthy.” he tsks, giving you a punishing spank to your tender skin. he hums pleasantly at the way your skin breaks a little, his red handprints making their way to the surface. “can’t even accept an apology. what do you want me to do, sweetheart?”

you can’t deny the wetness pooling in that skimpy thong. the stinging through your ass only makes your brain fog worsen, need was the only thing on your mind. he was so strong and sexy, and he was trying to make it up to you. you suppose you could…hear him out. that didn’t mean you were back together.

“fuck me—i’ll make my decision based on your performance.” you purr in his lap, wiggling your branded ass. he groans, you’re going to tease when you look like this? he woulda proposed if you asked him to if it meant you were all his again. commitment didn’t scare him so much anymore. you were as angry as ever and you still smiled when you saw him. you still let him follow you back home to plead his case. even if you didn’t have much a choice, you hardly even put up a fight. and he knew what that meant: you weren’t nearly as angry as you were trying to be.

“oh i’ll fuck you, sweetheart. let’s see if you can take it.” he hums so innocently, scooting you off his lap and onto all fours. he slides your thong to the side, laughing giddily at the sight of your soaking cunt. you definitely weren’t as mad as you were trying to be. “god look at this ocean—i almost feel bad for ya. trying to be such a meanie t’me when i’m the only one that can make it better.”

he wrestles with his pants, pushing them to his knees with haste. precious time was ticking, and stripping completely was a waste of it. he nearly sighs in relief when he frees himself, pumping his length fluidly. you whine at the time it’s taking him to fuck you, wiggling your cute rear and huffing.

“takin’ too long—“ you can’t finish your sentence before you cry out, his cock splitting you open just as you asked for. your walls felt like coming home, and every squeeze you give him was like a warm hug. he can’t believe he denied himself this for weeks just because you said something he’d been dying to hear from someone who meant it his entire life.

“better?” he asks, using your plush hips as his handlebars. this was why you would never be able to move on from him no matter the advice and warnings and every sign in the world telling you ‘no satoru gojo!’ he was just too good, he knew you all too well and your body craved and needed him like water. he fit in your cunt like he was built to, every pump of his cock left you gripping the sheets in an effort to hold yourself up, which you can only do for a few more seconds. “what, too hard? i thought you wanted to be fucked, little one?”

you’re stuck in a silent scream, unable to answer him. you feel like you can feel him in your lungs, his hips absolutely bullying yours. he admires your deep arch even though you’ve fallen forward, your ass rippling into his pubic hair so perfectly he had to reward you with some grunts and groans of his own. he lays over your back, cooing his praises in your ear.

“there she goes, now she’s taking good dick. can’t believe you almost wasted a thong like this— good thing i stay around, yeah?” he shoves your forward just a bit, off his cock and face first into your pillows. you whine at the loss, but he flattens your legs and sits on top of them—squeezing his cock between your thighs and ass, guiding his dick back in. you mewl at the new sensation. how could he possibly be deeper? “awww, that’s a good girl. letting me fuck ya like i hate ya when i’m just trying to prove that i love you too.”

you clench when he says it, moans intensifying as he uses you in this new position. he smirks, you’re adorable. laying there screaming for him with a gorgeously painted ass and a perfect body taking all the force behind his thrusts. “you still love me, sweetheart?”

you nod eagerly, your moans borderline animalistic. “yes—fuck, yes i do, i love you satoru!” you feel him so deeply in your stomach that you can’t keep holding back. it felt like a rubber band snapped as you squeeze around him and cover him with your essence. he keeps going, eyes trained on your recoil and the white ring you left at the base of his cock. your confirmation only drives him crazier, your limp body beneath him taking his increased pace like a champ—little overstimulated moans the only sound he can hear.

“gonna cum in this pretty pussy to show you how much i love you.” he groans, picking your body up in one strong arm to hold you down on his cock. you feel the rush of heat and shudder, the fact he was willing to deal with the consequences of cumming inside alone made you want more of him—until he couldn’t cum anymore. he holds you up, luckily enough— you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself—and places soft kisses to your neck. he hums, enjoying the taste of your skin slightly sweaty and warm from his love. he stays inside you, he can’t bring himself to move just yet, but he sighs in content.

“so…we back together?”

[trans-rite]

How to join the Transgender Ancestor Rite: an FAQ on our updated format

What is it?

an annual, non-denominational ritual honoring transgender individuals who have passed on

an act of solidarity with the lineage of transgender ancestors who have come before us and paved the way, as well as with the descendants who will come after us when we are gone

a chance to share tenderness and kindness with the restless spirits of transgender people who lost their lives to violence

an opportunity for living transgender folks, including those who have lost trans loved ones, to grieve, mourn, and pray

a labor of love from a multiracial group of trans spirit workers, each at various stages of study in ancestor veneration practices, who have been putting on this ritual since 2014

When is it?

the ritual should take place on or around the Trans Day of Remembrance on November 20th, preferably within a week

most of us do it at night but any time of day is fine

if you need to do it a little before or after the 20th, don't sweat it

Where is it?

wherever you are!

groups are welcome to host local events and inform us about them, but the ritual itself takes place in a location of your own choosing, usually at home

if you have access to a local TDOR event that could incorporate some or all of this ritual, you are welcome to bring it there

most of the organizers have historically been located in the northeastern US but you don’t have to be

Who is it for?

it honors everyone from this year’s Trans Day of Remembrance official list, as well as any other deaths of trans individuals from the year that participants wish to include

illness losses, violent deaths, suicides, and natural deaths are all eligible for inclusion

it includes, cumulatively, all transgender deaths from previous years as well, named on the TDOR lists and unnamed, throughout history

it honors and praises the trans ancestors, people who were alive both recently and longer ago, who feel themselves in connection with us, who have received the care and honor we offered through previous years’ rituals, who are bright and well and who can tend the line from the other side

participants can be trans or cisgender, of any or no denomination or faith

Does it cost money?

nope! this is an anticapitalist affair

you can buy incense and offerings if you like, but you don’t need to spend money to participate

Why are y’all doing this?

honestly this could take pages and pages about the importance of this work and of soothing the troubled dead and tending our ancestral line et cetera et cetera ad infinitum but the short version is

we gotta

our ancestors require it and we’re making sure they get it

Okay, how does it work?

during the ritual, you sit or stand at an altar, light a candle, put out a glass of fresh water, and read a prayer

you may also make any other offerings you feel called to do

if so moved, you read the names of the dead from this year's TDOR list and call on our bright and well ancestors to tend to these newly passed souls

all the people participating in all the different places in the world help create a rising raft of energy that is greater than the sum of its parts, delivering the restless dead among our line into the care of our bright and well ancestors, who, in turn, also care for us, the living

Prayers? I thought you said this was non-denominational.

prayers can involve divinity, or they can be kind and soothing words to say to the dead

you can look through our prayers tag to get ideas and inspiration, but feel free to find poems on your own and/or write something yourself as well 

you are welcome to include deity or not, as you prefer

the organizers of this ritual incorporate gods and spirits in our practices but you by no means need to

on the flip side, if you want your gods involved, feel free to do so in whatever respectful manner works for you

What do I need on my altar?

the basics are an altar cloth (white is traditional; a bandana works), a cup to be filled with water, and a new or dedicated candle (white is traditional here also but follow your instincts)

other great offerings include cut flowers, portions of your food and drink (though alcohol is not advised with restless spirits), tobacco, honey, pictures and/or names of the deceased, art, music, dancing, and any gender paraphernalia you think the ancestors might like

do not put pictures of living people on the altar

it can be as simple or ornate as you choose: the important parts are the candle, the cup, and the cloth

Isn’t it sketchy to be working with dead people?

a little bit

it is much less sketchy since our format change in 2022, at which point this ritual shifted from working directly with restless spirits (dicey) to interfacing with them only through our cadre of elevated bright and well ancestors who have already benefited from previous years' rituals

we advise that you cleanse or purify in whatever way you prefer, ideally before and after the working

if you’re in a Western (especially American Christian) culture that views death as The End and discussion of death as taboo, consider reading up on cultures where ancestor veneration is a normal part of everyday life (hint: it’s most of them)

Other questions? Send them in and we’ll answer them, and maybe add them to the list! If you post about the ritual, tag #troe2023 and we will check it out!

Thank you for joining us!

- Mod Alder and team

[valentiyne]

𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 & 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝖺𝗅𝗌 ☆ 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽

Calum Hood x Famous!Reader Summary: Requested! After 4 years of agreed no contact, one phone call and song takes back all that you've worked for. Warnings: Mild Cursing, Slight of Explicit Content. Word Count: 1k (not rlly proofread lol) Copyright © 2023 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻

"So, Y/n tell us more about Calum Hood"

A name I hadn't heard in exactly 4 years to the very date.

48 months, 1461 days, and 35040 excruciating long fucking hours.

My face immediately lights up at the name nevertheless, brushing my hair behind my ear nervously,

"Hood? I'm not quite sure what this has to do with my upcoming EP coming out at midnight", I breathlessly laugh out, my eyes locking with the interviewer in front of me. My new work titled, "Bittersweet" was launching at midnight, only containing 4 songs to go along with the 4 bittersweet years I've spent away from him. It was hopeless of me to write about him, but he was the only source of inspiration I could find.

"Well you two had a bit of chemistry as far as we know, is that right?"

Sure we did. We spent over 6 years together on and off, but always came back to each other. He was my rock, my everything, but ultimately we knew it wasn't going to work out.

"Sure we did, I mean it was nothing but a mere innocent crush", I cross my legs now, my shaky hands clasped on top of my knees. The crowd was silent as excited fans packed into the small room to hear the soft launch before midnight.

"Well it was surely more than innocent", she motions to the screen next to us. "This picture was taken four years ago in Bali during the second leg of their tour", I mentally roll my eyes but smile anyway. A few people from the crowd squealed as the iconic picture of us in cuddled up on the beach was displayed, the same one he posted himself as an excuse to have me on his page.

"Like I said- It was a small crush" I was trying to convince myself more than everyone else.

I watch as the slideshow continues on, the screen filled with every single moment in time that Calum and I were spotted together across the world. A few innocent ones of us walking next to each other, to one taken on the balcony of a hotel. We were just kids who didn't know what they were doing- lost in the moment together. He will always have a place in my heart. When things ultimately ended, we both agreed to never speak again- it was only weighing each other down.

"Well I thank you for your time, I hope everyone enjoys the album and finds some comfort in the chaos", I stand up abruptly, extending my hand to shake the interviewer's hand. The crowd cheered quietly as I walked off the stage with a slight wave. I needed to get out of here, I felt like a complete idiot working myself up over someone that I no longer talked to.

I slipped past the stage crew as I shuffled out past the backdoors and towards the parking lot, my fingers fumbling with my keys as I tore my driver's door open and plopped down dramatically. The door shut behind me and I sighed to myself loudly,

That was fucking ridiculous, they didn't even ask anything about me. Just about someone I never wanted to mention. Of course, I could talk about him until the end of time, but it wasn't my place to do so anymore. He was playing sold-out shows every other day and had no worry about a girl back home who happened to have matching tattoos with him, right? The tattoo we shared was of a small flower underneath our ribs, the same flower he gave me on our one-year "situationshipversary" as he called it. It was a silly gesture that I treasured, the California wildflower that he pulled over on the side of the Pacific Coast Highway to pick during peak traffic on the way to my house. It now lay inside a small glass bottle hung around my neck, all wilted like our history.

I pull my phone from my purse, scrolling down to the bottom of my contact list, and clicking on the "DO NOT CALL!!!!" number. I hesitantly dial his number and bring it up to my ear,

"Hey! You reached Calum, I'm away from my phone right now but leave a message!", He declined it immediately, either that or his phone was dead. Not quite sure which one makes me feel better. I roll my eyes at the stupid prepubescent voice and turn my phone off.

I tossed my phone down onto my lap and leaned my head against the wheel. I subconsciously wanted to log back into my Instagram and scroll down an update page to find out anything about him. I had no idea what he was up to or who he was with, it's been years since I've last heard his voice.

"You know this isn't good for either of us, Y/n", he rang through my head as I remember standing on his porch in late July.

"Calum, we've been through this so many times- why can't we just try?"

He runs his hand through his freshly cut hair and shakes his head, "It never ends well, I feel like a fucking lost dog who always limps its way back to you.. I just- Fuck- I can't do thi-"

The last thing I remember was the door closing in my face, leaving me all alone with no closure. I could hear him on the other side, a thump on the door indicating he was leaning against it. I tried for the handle, jiggling it a few times before banging on it, begging for him to talk to me. I couldn't stay mad at him forever, as much as I wanted to. I wanted to scream at him, slap him in his beautiful face, and kiss him all at once.

My phone vibrating snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked down,

DO NOT CALL!!!!

My heart skips a beat, staring at my phone on my lap buzzing away. I bit my lip softly, pulling it closer to my face as I accepted the FaceTime call.

The camera was pointing to the ceiling when I answered, his voice booming loudly as he spoke.

"Hello?"

I let let a breath I didn't know I was holding, trying to gather the right words to say. What was I supposed to say after all this time?

"Cal?", my voice is softer than I had hoped for, the word slipping past my lip like it's begging to finally be let out.

"Holy shit", the camera shifts and he props it up against the wall, waving at me with one hand. Calum sits in his studio chair with his old bass in his lap, headphones pushed back against his long curly hair. His eyes are wide as he raises an eyebrow, "Shit, long time no see."

I adjust the camera against my steering wheel and scoot my seat back, allowing for a better view of myself as I smile innocently with an awkward wave. "Hi Cal, how ya been?" I see his eyes travel down to the necklace around my neck, my fingers dancing around the bottle as I speak.

"Shit, Y/n if I'd known it was you calling I would've answered way faster, I just had deleted your number-", he stops himself, looking up with a sympathetic crooked smile before sighing. I raise a hand up to reassure him instead, "Calum", god saying his name tugs at my heartstrings, "It's okay, I get it... we don't have to dance around it.. now what are you up to?"

He was lying, Calum hood was bluffing to my face and I had no idea. After all this time, he still had my contact listed as "My wildflower", but he couldn't dare admit to me that he didn't answer sooner because he was scared.

Scared of what I was going to say

Scared id tell him I found someone new

Scared of seeing or hearing me again

"I'm actually working on a song right now", he laughs and holds the iconic bass up, a small spot right under the strings that once had a star sticker I placed on it- now scraped off.

I make a face, reminding myself that that was the past and I shouldn't dwell on it too much, but seeing him happier without me didn't make me feel like I thought it would. A part of me wished he was as miserable as I was, cooped up in my room writing stupid songs that were confessing my raw feelings.

"What's it about?", I chirp up as he bends down to play a few notes on the keyboard next to him, assuming it's the intro.

"It's about someone that was in my life, uh someone you don't know- she came around afterward", he says slowly, not meeting my eyes through the screen. I just nod in agreement, opening my mouth to speak.

"Would you like to come over for dinner sometime this week?", The words flow out before I had time to think about it. As I wait for his response, I pick at my nails- a habit he absolutely hated. He would smack my hand out of my mouth every chance we were together, telling me "I'd get worms in my belly" I did stop for a while, but my bitten nails were the only reminder he was actually gone.

"Yeah, I would love to!- Look I'll let you go but we'll keep in touch alright?", He speaks quickly, his hand flying down in one swift movement. With that, he ends the FaceTime call and I'm left looking at my reflection. I looked dumbfounded, smiling to myself as wide as I could.

I couldn't let myself fall for this again, for him- we both knew it wasn't going to end well for either of us. But hell it's been 4 years and I've changed as a person, and by the looks of it, he has too.

My phone buzzed once, twice, and then three before I looked back up at it to see three new messages from none other than Hood.

DO NOT CALL!!!!: I kinda lied, you do know the person I wrote it about

DO NOT CALL!!!!: mp3.wildflower.calumdemo.rec

DO NOT CALL!!!!: my wildflower ;)

[percheduphere]

LET'S TALK ABOUT THE CHOICE LOKI WANTED TO GIVE MOBIUS

Thanks for the comment, @sunflowerdigs!

I am also in HUGE debt to @loki-us for the below gifs that I could not find anywhere in Tumblr's gif search system. Thank you, friend! So many of my metas would not be possible without your help and support!

The poetic irony is definitely the point and is the reason why the S2 finale is as painful as it is.

I've previously discussed how Mobius would 100% absolutely choose to be with Loki at the End of Time and his decision-making history that points to this as being in-character here.

I also reviewed Loki's decision-making here.

Now let's discuss the choice Loki desperately wanted to give Mobius:

gif credit: @loki-us

gif credit: @loki-us

gif credit: @loki-us

(Original gif set post here)

What I love about this scene with Sylvie is that it is a perfect example of narrative subtext at work. The emotional thrust behind Loki's words may be interpreted as either platonic or romantic. Ultimately, it doesn't matter (well, it does, but it's a minor detail) because the definitive meaning behind the subtext is what the TVA means to Loki and what he actually wants, which is getting Mobius back.

WHAT LOKI WANTS: TVA = FRIENDS = MOBIUS

Let's break down the scene:

Sylvie asks what Loki wants. Sylvie, we must remember, is a Loki. She knows how Loki thinks, how he hides his vulnerability, and how he lies to himself. This allows her to suss out what Loki has difficulty admitting. I absolutely adore Sylvie for this.

1.) To stop HWR. - wrong

2.) To save the TVA. - wrong but closer; why?

3.) To save "all this" - too broad

4.) To save his friends. - correct

Ergo, stopping HWR is a means to an end, as it was for Sylvie. Saving the TVA could feasibly "save all this" from HWR, but who or what does Loki mean when he says "all this"? He means the timelines, certainly, but why does he care about the timelines? Because if all timelinee are destroyed, Sylvie and the TVA are destroyed too. Who is at the TVA? Loki's friends. Who is Loki's first and best friend? Mobius.

Therefore:

TVA = Friends = Mobius

Now, this isn't to play down the importance of OB, Verity, and Casey, but the series has been very clear about which friendship is the most significant to Loki. S2E1 -S2E4 builds up Loki and Mobius's closeness for the explicit purpose of likewise building up the cost of Loki's sacrifice. Their separation in the finale would not have been given as much attention nor hurt as much if they didn't become close.

The editing here is very intentional. In screenwriting, we call this technique "off screen dialogue", which is denoted by the character's name followed by (o.s.), then their line of dialogue.

In example, the shooting script might say:

On Don's reaction.

LOKI

(o.s.)

It was more about what I wanted.

If this wasn't formatted as such in the original script, it was likely formatted as such in the shooting script, which is a highly detailed version of the script with notes on how each scene should be shot in production and edited in post. The same cinematic technique is used in S2E4, after the pie confrontation with Sylvie, in which Brad, off screen, says, "Aren't you gonna say anything?" The dialogue overlays Mobius's reaction shot before cutting to the scene with Brad and Dox.

THE CHOICE LOKI WANTED TO GIVE (BUT COULDN'T)

It is also no accident that Loki very pointedly talks about Mobius, what he thinks Mobius wants, and how Mobius should have a choice. In making his point, Loki shows that he is actually quite confident that Mobius would choose the TVA and therefore, HIM.

But perched! The TVA means Loki's friends! How can the TVA also mean Loki?

THE TVA ALSO = LOKI

Well ...

(Thank you so much for your marvelous gif set @riotinyellow)

After the Loom explodes, everyone is returned to their original timeline except Loki. What is significant but not often discussed is that Sylvie is returned to her 1982 Broxton, Oklahoma timeline. She did not remain at the TVA despite being a Loki herself. The subtext of this is that Sylvie associates the 1982 timeline as where she belongs, where she feels at home. If we parallel this subtext to Loki, this means the TVA is where Loki feels he belongs and thus, feels at home. He only begins to timeslip once he realizes the people he cares about aren't there. Notably, Loki unconsciously timeslips to Mobius the most. I have a meta on Loki's timeslipping here.

As people, we define ourselves not only by our past, our talents, our weaknesses, our interests, and our dislikes, we also define ourselves by our relationships (good and bad). The implication, therefore, is that TVA symbolically represents not only friendship and Mobius, it represents Loki, too.

The most painful part of Loki's argument, which is never communicated directly but is subtextually inferred, is that not only does Loki want Mobius to choose the TVA (him), he is confident that Mobius would choose the TVA (him). And why shouldn't Loki be confident? Mobius has been his most loyal friend. Mobius has never abandoned him even when he was angry with him.

This sets up the meaning behind the subtext of Mobius's departure from the TVA in the finale. Mobius insists the TVA provides him with meaning, that he likes it there, and that he is grateful for whoever took him and "gave [him] this pie" (interestingly, it is Loki who recruits Mobius first, gives him his name, and offers pie to help calm Mobius down).

EVERYONE'S CHOICE & MOBIUS LEAVING THE TVA

Once Loki is gone, however, Mobius only stays at the TVA long enough to ensure it's changed for good and has appropriate leadership. What's striking is that, with the exception of Mobius, all of Loki's friends, given the choice, chose to stay at the TVA. This answers the question Loki posed with Sylvie: How many of them would choose to stay?

Verity, OB, and Casey all have purpose. Mobius's purpose has always been Loki. That purpose evolved into friendship once he stopped Loki's "reset" and uncovered Ravonna's corruption. Just as TVA = Friends = Mobius for Loki, for Mobius, the TVA = Loki. When Loki is gone, so is Mobius's purpose, his place of belonging, his home. Mobius loses everything, including (platonically or romantically) someone he deeply loves.

[thatwildnya]

venti when griffin wifey disappears to nest

The anemo archon is freaking out after his wife has suddenly vanished without a trace. After hours of searching with the help of the Favonius Knights and Diluc he discovers she has made a nest in Dvalin's home to lay a clutch of eggs.

TW: none

notes: the format this is written in what we've named a headcanon drabble mix. it will start with hcs and have a drabble at the end or multiple sprinkled throughout it. these will be tagged as headcanon drabble mix, hc drabble mix, or [fandom]hcdm.

chitters and nickers

Wild: I've started playing genshin recently and it's been on my mind a lot. Decided to write somethin' on a whim. Might make more with the same prompt if this one gets a lot of attention.

nya: i wanna squish venti's cheeks

wifey's bird cat mix

european wildcat, white dove, 7 eggs

very likely this was not planned, Venti’s alcoholic tendencies often cause him to forget protection so it was only a matter of time it caught up to him

unexpected pregnancies with female griffins can be absolutely heart attack inducing due to their instincts kicking in immediately once their body realizes what’s happening. bird brains go into maximum overdrive and once it decides where it wants to nest they’re making a beeline to claim said spot and going builder mode asap.

so imagine the archon’s panic when you’re nowhere to be found after being sick and acting weird all week. poor guy is zooming all over the city alongside the knights and Diluc to find you. once he’s combed through the city he uses his godly powers to call for Dvalin’s assistance. but there’s no answer.

Equation: wifey acting odd + wifey missing + dragon friend not responding. Conclusion: something very bad happened. Solution: it is time for panic at the anemo.

shouts at some random pedestrian passing by to gather the knights and meet him at the lair. unfortunately he mistook the stranger as a knight them self due to wearing similar clothes. and on top of that this person was a foreigner. but he’s gone before the misunderstanding can be cleared. now hubby is thought to be missing. what an eventful day for Mondstadt.

creates a crater when he lands outside his friends home. said friend sticks his head out from the crumbling tower with blurry eyes. what was all this racket for? this is the second time he’s been so rudely awoken today! bro already lost hours of sleep from his wife barging in at 1AM to nest and lay eggs. wifey did what now.

the dragon’s grumpiness dissolves once the situation has been cleared. in fact he was laughing in the end. the image of a large number of humans scurrying around in search of a god’s wife thinking the worst when in actuality she’s enjoying baby time in arguably the safest place in the nation is hilarious!

but that’s not important right now you laid eggies sired by him he’s gonna be a dad! this twink of a god can’t contain his excitement. how many did you lay? when will they hatch? how big are they? have they developed enough to be able to hear his voice? can he hold them? too bad you can’t answer, doves can’t mimic sounds and you aren’t reverting back to human for a while.

has no problem with you nesting in Dvalin’s home. in fact he’s all for it. very few humans and monsters dare to intrude on the territory of the anemo dragon once called Storm Terror. no worries here! so long you had no issues he’d stand by your decision! y’know what they say, a mother knows best!

you are never left alone Venti makes sure there’s always one person he trusts to watch over you and your growing kids. if he could he’d be right there in the nest with his family 24/7. the issue is, however, that you’re the breadwinner of the family. and griffin moms to be won’t leave the eggs alone until they’ve hatched. not for food, water, nothing. avian feline mom’s have wills of steel.

it isn’t long before Venti realizes the problem. kids are not cheap to raise. (especially in this economy) so for the first time in history, the anemo archon begins the treacherous and traumatizing journey of job hunting. it was a grueling quest, one of hardships and difficulty like no other. his confidence and ego took many serious blows, wounds inflicted upon them so deep it was feared he might never recover. there were plenty of times he almost gave up, but he persevered! his family was counting on him, he couldn’t give up. and with the power of love and friendship, he was able to slay- jk he just became a part time knight and takes on quick jobs spread across his nation.

this is quite the change to his usual routine but it’s all worth it. every time he returns to his recently grown family is all the motivation he needs. can’t wait for the day he’ll be greeted by a chorus of chirps after a long day of work.

when he isn’t working he’s always near the nest, if he isn’t in it. and more likely than not he’s by a fire cooking up something for you to eat. he’s glad you’ll eat if food is in reach. man’s on his way to becoming a 5 star chef with how much he’s expanding his culinary skills.

when is baby time? it’s always baby time in this house. and everyone is invited to baby time. can’t help but squeal internally whenever you get excited at visitors. leaving the nest just to gently tug them over so they could see the eggs will always be the cutest thing you’ll do to him. how can he not smile when your feathered face shines with pride everytime you present his kids?

finally, the day comes. he’s in the middle of aiding Diluc unload supplies for Angel’s Share when the Mondstadt citizens are given a heart attack by Dvalin suddenly swooping overhead shouting for him to get his butt back to you. get ready folks, it’s time for round 2 of panic at the anemo!

adding a new crater in Dvalin's lawn he runs to your side with heaving lungs all winded and worried. but you seem completely fine? and so do the babies, albeit two are shivering from the chillness of the ruins and being wet having just hatched… wait a minute-

Did you really have to disappear like that? Especially since you’ve been acting strange the past week?

Your side of the bed was cold when he woke up and he thought you had already left for work. The day goes on as normal, some bard performances here, archon duties there, wine shenanigans, nothing out of the ordinary. Until your boss shows up demanding to know where you are just as he was about to take a post lunch nap.

Okay, there’s no need to panic yet. Maybe your boss forgot you weren’t supposed to be in today? Nope, it’s the middle of the week. Maybe you were late getting back from lunch? What do you mean you haven’t been in all day. Were you scheduled to work offsite? No? Okay, now it's time to panic.

He’s fearing the worst as he and the others search for you. His true identity may be a secret to most but that unfortunately wasn’t true for a certain large powerful group that had already stolen from him twice. He hopes this isn’t their doing.

Thankfully the search doesn’t last long. Once the city has been combed through he flies off to get help from Dvalin. His friend can’t help but laugh when told what was going on. That’s when it’s revealed you’ve been in his lair the whole time.

Just as the dragon said, you’ve taken residence in his lair. Showing up in the middle of the night without warning to build a nest. So that’s where all the missing clothes, blankets, and pillows went. Used as cushions for the nest you’ve built in the middle of the night. The nest, might I add, looks very comfortable. You’re loafing self emits a blissful aura, wings drooping lazily at your side and talons tucked under your chest.

Doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Opts for a third option to beeline to you for a hug. But there will be no hugs for him. Dvalin manages to grab him before he can take a few steps.

“I would advise against this approach, Barbatos.” the anemo dragon warns while the archon flails in his talons whining, “less you desire a delay in meeting your offspring.”

The bard freezes at his words. Offspring? Does he mean you were…?

Venti is plopped down a few steps away from you, this time waiting for your acknowledgement before coming close. You are more than happy to have him there. Thank you Dvalin for intercepting, you’d be on guard if you’d seen your husband suddenly running full speed at you.

You raise your wings slightly, doing mini flaps as you call out to him in your beautiful avian voice with enthusiasm. You are practically vibrating in excitement as your mate comes to join you in your nest made of natural and man made materials. The same could be said for him.

“Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see!” Venti claps impatiently, ready to see the incubating life underneath your feathers. His eyes somehow manage to get even wider as you sit up. You puff up your chest feathers, head raised high with pride as you reveal the seven eggs you’d laid hours ago.

Venti’s eyes are sparkling with happy tears. Head in hands as he leans forward on his elbows, he studies his growing babies in awe. It pleased him to no end that the shells were decorated in the colors of anemo. If that didn’t scream who sired these eggs then he didn’t know what would.

Hand slightly reaching out, he had intended to wait for the okay like before. But you were offended he had the audacity to think he had to get permission to touch what he had helped to create. And you were going to make your feelings very clear.

Without warning you lunge forward. Small beak clamping on his shirt to jerk him over the edge. The bard lets out a startled yelp, face planting into your wing. Despite being a combination of smaller species of the feline and avian family, you were still quite strong.

“Ow ow ow, was that really necessary love dove?” He rubs his nose. Beak snaps are your reply, pouting at him to hurry up. Your impatience was so great he was denied the option to shake out his hat of feathers and twigs, getting robbed of his head wear. Okay he gets the memo sheesh!

The remainder of the evening is spent snuggled in that nest. Songs of humans and birds are heard late into the night, the voice of a dragon chiming in at times. Peace befalls the land of anemo.

Until it’s shattered by a frantic legion of knights still searching for their god and his wife hours later.

~ time skip yay ~

Venti sobs, clutching his bundle of joy to his chest. It had been nearly half an hour since his firstborn had entered the world yet somehow the tears kept flowing. No matter how hard he tried, the tears wouldn’t halt. But could you really blame him?

“You’re going to hyperventilate at this rate. It’s a wonder you haven’t already.”

“I-I-I *sniffle* can’t h-hel- *sob* help i-it!” he hugs his firstborn closer, blurry gaze never leaving his child’s face. “Sh-she-she’s *hiccup* s-so beau- *sniffle* beautiful!” the dragon rolled his eyes. How much longer did he have to listen to his crying?

“Get a hold of yourself. Your hatchlings won’t benefit if both parents are unable to assist due to being unconscious.”

Venti gives a final sniffle before tilting his head up in an attempt to stop the tears. He blinks rapidly, steadying his breath. A quick wipe of the sleeve and it’s back to staring.

He wanted to see every little thing she did. His perfect little feathered treasure.

The hatchling had somehow managed to sleep through his whole cry fest. Cozily wrapped in a quilt and blissfully resting from her first big hurdle. Not even a day old and she had already passed the most important milestone of her life, breaking the shell that had protected her as she grew.

He quickly wiped his eyes again. He’d cried enough today.

Suddenly she yawned, beak opening wide and talons outstretching. Eyes blinking open, she looks up at her father’s puffy face. Venti smiles warmly at her, his own eyes giving her loving slow blinks. His daughter returns the gesture.

She begins to wiggle in his hold, talons reaching to grab his shirt in an attempt to pull herself closer to his face. To save his daughter the trouble he lifts her closer. He chuckles as he nuzzles her face hearing her curious sniffs.

“Hello, little one,” he whispers quietly, planting a kiss on her forehead, “the winds welcome you into the world.”

[tojisprincesa]

I'm your angel

fyodor dostoevsky x fem reader

a/n : This is my first piece of writing containing smut, so please be nice! English is not my first language & I don't know how to properly format my writing on here either so I apologize in advance. I would GREATLY appreciate feedback! Thank you for reading my work and hope you enjoy it :)

word count : 2.1k

summary : The devil is real. And he's not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful, because he's a fallen angel and he used to be god's favorite.

✧ warnings : MDNI 18+ NSFW sexual content, rough sex, choking, breeding kink, hickeys, manhandling, possible objectification, degradation, dacryphilia, name calling, overstimulation, multiple rounds, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, belly budge, stalking, yandere behavior, virginity loss, manipulation, possessiveness, obsession, sacrilegious, creampies, mention of sex in a church, slight dubcon, betrayal, multiple orgasms, dumbification,  aphrodisiac serum usage, non consensual recording, praise, hints of aftercare, reader referred to as a dog, reader is gifted but its not used in this piece, not proof read. please tell me if I missed anything. MDNI 18+ NSFW

Inspired by:  I'm Your Man by Mitski

On a midnight walk home, alone you enjoyed the breeze winter had bestowed upon Yokohama. The moon was full and shining down on you. It was so cold out you wouldn't be surprised if you woke up to snow. You had stayed at the agency quite late finishing up some paperwork. Dazai had been no help, again. You hated working on a case with him simply due to the fact you were always stuck with ALL the paperwork. This case had been a big one, thanks to the decay of angels.

You loved your job truly, helping people was your purpose in life. Your ability was called “ Angel Wings”. It was a rare and very powerful ability, you were able to use what was essentially dark magic. But what gave your power its name was your majestically, beautiful wings. They looked just like an angel’s pure white wings but as fate would have it yours were as dark as the midnight sky. 

You were the only one in history with this gift who had been born with black wings and the only one who had access to dark magic as well. The people of Yokohama had rumored it to be a bad omen.

Your parents had left you abandoned on the steps of a church. As a baby you were taken in and grew up in the monastery. At 10 years old you had discovered a file the sisters had on you, only to discover your parents had left a note on you as a baby stating only god could save your soul, they called you an abomination more so, a fallen angel. It was at that age you were determined to use your powers for good. 

You’d like to believe you left that life behind at 18. But only god knew it plagued your thoughts day & night. And on this fateful night that's exactly what you thought about on your journey home. You were so lost in thought you didn't notice the cold amethyst eyes that tracked your every move. 

✧

As you arrived home, all that your body wanted to do was rest. But you decided against that so you took a hot shower to relax your tense muscles. You deserved it after a long day at work. Unfortunately, it gave the devil watching you a perfect opportunity to set his trap. After your shower you decided to skip dinner due to your exhaustion and headed straight for bed. You had failed to notice the faint smell of  gas leaking from under your bed. That mistake would cost you your freedom, you had not only fallen in a deep slumber but in the jaws of his trap.

As you opened your eyes all you saw was the moonlight so scarce, you couldn't even make out the room’s layout. But you immediately recognized the ominous voice that spoke to you. Fyodor Dostoevsky. You and everyone in the agency had been warned of this man who was a demon, no more like the devil himself. Dazai had given a brief rundown of his encounters with such a foe, stating even he himself wasn't sure of his ultimate goal. He warned that no one could win against him nor his intelligence. He was always a step ahead. 

“Awake already? That gas should have knocked you out for a couple more hours..huh you're full of surprises angel” he spoke as he stepped into the light shining through the stained glass window. He looked like a god. 

“There’s no use yelling, it's just you & I in the middle of nowhere so don't get any ideas. I doubt even Dazai could find us here” 

It was as if he was reading your mind. You were left speechless whether it was out of fear or shock you weren't quite sure. But you couldn't let him know that. So you got straight to the point.

“What do you want from me?”

“It's quite simple really. I want your cooperation, your loyalty, and you.”

‘“ Me ?” 

“Yes. You, mой ангел”  [my angel]

He reached out to caress your cheek & your mind was racing. But the moment his ice cold fingers made contact with your warm rosy cheeks, it went blank. All you could focus on was Fyodor, his touch was all consuming. You found yourself leaning into him but the cushioned chair you were tied to did not allow much movement to your dismay. Your wings were aching due to the tight position you found yourself. 

His haunting eyes were staring right into your soul, you were convinced he could rid you of all the sins you've committed. You did not dare to look away. He then let out a chilling laughter while holding your chin. He said

“It's not like I am giving you an option dear. You will essentially be my dog. You will obey my every command and this will be the only warning I give you, do not test me. Your disobedience will not bring any harm to you, yourself but I cannot say the same for others at the agency. Nod, if you understand.``

You gave him a subtle nod. He had made it clear you had no choice but to obey him. An eerie smile stretched across his face, it sent chills down your spine. But the way he was speaking to you sent a pulsing heat to your core. It was embarrassing to have your mind and body reacting differently, to have them be at war.

Unbeknownst to you at the time, Fyodor had injected you with an aphrodisiac serum while you were passed out. He thought it would make you easier to manipulate. Not because he thought it would be difficult but because he had a strong desire to see you beg for him. The same way he had yearned for you all these months. Watching you from the shadows, studying you. You were the object of his desire. His obsession with you was sickening and unexplainable. He had to have you and now he does.You were his. He wouldn't. No. He couldn't hold back any longer. 

What shocked you like electricity running through your veins was Fyodor’s lips on yours. It was an intensely passionate kiss. You found yourself kissing him back instantly. The heat you felt between your legs had spread all over your body. His kiss had left like an ice cold sip of water in the blazing hot summer heat. You needed more to soothe this ache and he knew that. 

In an instant you were untied and swooped up being led towards a bed you hadn't even realized was there. As he set you down on the cool silky sheets he made his way down your body undressing you with kisses. You couldn't protest, not with this heat making you physically dizzy, you needed him and fast. It was at this moment you realize this must've been his doing but you didn't care, a part of you had wanted this. Deep down you wanted this handsome devil to have his way with you. You were his for the taking. 

 “Please” you moaned 

“ Please, what angel. Use your words” 

Fyodor was losing his mind at how simple this all was. You really were like a dog begging for its master.  

“ Please Fyodor.. I– I need you, inside me” You groaned frustrated with the heat building up and meeting its peak. 

“Such a greedy mutt I have” he whispered in your ear as he nipped it. The degradation heightened your arousal, he quickly undressed and pressed his body against yours while he sucked on your neck, marking you as his. Simultaneously, his fingers played with your clit and he applied pressure as he twisted and pulled on it. You moaned out in painful joy. 

“ More. I need more” you pleaded. He slapped your aching pussy, hard. 

“ Where are your manners stupid slut–” he felt what was like a heartbeat come from your cunt as he said that. 

“ Oh fuckk my angel is no saint, I will indulge you my dear” you felt tears escaping your eyes from how much you needed relief. Fyodor could tell from how wet you were alone. He was going to make sure only he could relieve this heat from you now and forever. He had done his research and found that you were a virgin. Not yet tainted, his angel had yet to fall from the favors of god.

He took his tip and rubbed it on your cunt giving you pleasure moaning out as he inserted himself fully. He did not give you time to adjust, not that you needed it despite it being your first time. Like a whore you screamed out in pleasurable pain. It was as if you were made for him, made to take him day and night. You were his to breed like a bitch in heat.

You looked between your legs to see the moonlight illuminating his pretty face perfectly. With the stained glass window behind him he might as well have been fucking you in a cathedral. He no longer looked like a god, he was your god, your savior. 

His touch was heavenly. His pace was relentless. In and out he went with harsh deep strokes he hit your weak spot every time. He left no part of you untouched. You felt like you were suffocating in pleasure. If sex was considered a sin out of wedlock, God could add it to your list of sinful deeds. You were born a sinner but you'll die a saint. You were sure Fyodor was god himself. Each touch he bestowed upon you, cleansed you. 

You whimpered as you got closer to finishing. He could tell by how your cunt squeezed  around him. 

“ My sweet angel, what would the detective agency say if they saw you now? Taking me so well, huh?” 

You couldn't help but squeeze him tighter and cry out to him. He leaned down and whispered 

“ Go ahead and say hello” as he gestured to his right. You had failed to notice a camera was recording you, capturing everything that was conspiring between the two of you.Your dignity was long gone at this point. You obey his command and let out a high pitched moan.

“ helloooo”

Fyodor groaned at the fact it wasn't even a command but you followed it nonetheless. Maybe training you wouldn't take long after all. 

“ Good girl, my good girl” 

He sped his pace up with harsher strokes while one hand  had went down to play with your clit and the other around your neck restricting your air flow. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head and your tongue was hanging out of your mouth. You were panting like a bitch. So he'd treat you like one. He let go of your throat only to grab you cheeks, squishing them together to spit in your mouth. This only brought the knot in your stomach closer to snapping. 

“ Please, Fyodor let me cum” you begged. And who was he to deny his pretty angel when she asked oh so nicely. 

“Look me in the eyes when you cum angel”

Looking at him and seeing his eyes full of lust and love. His devotion to you brought upon your unraveling. You moaned his name as you cummed causing him to reach his peak as well.

His cum had you filled up to the brim. You could feel it sloshing around inside you when he applied pressure on your stomach. He knew you weren't on any birth control but that didn't matter. He needed a successor anyways. He wanted to see you plump and round full of his seed. This was his way of permanently marking you from the inside out.

 So cock drunk you had lost count of the round you were on. You only realized a vast amount of time had passed due to the sun rising. The sheets were soaked from your juices mixed together. You had done unholy things. But you felt reborn as though you had been baptized in his cum. There wasn't a part of your body that wasn't covered in it by now.Your body had been pushed past your limits. Fyodor knew that and cleaned you up, he brought you water and ibuprofen. He caressed your hair holding you against his chest, laying down he praised you. 

“ You did well my angel” rewarding you with a kiss on top of your head. You smiled and succumbed to your exhausted state. 

You were now a fallen angel. And Fyodor was your god.

✧

After you had given Fyodor all the information he needed with no protest. He rewarded you, like a pup. You had betrayed the agency like a man. One day you'll meet your judgment by the hounds and whether that be heaven or hell you didn't care as long as you had Fyodor by your side. For if he should leave you, you should die. You deserve it don't you? It had sealed your fate. You were positive no one would ever love you like your god again.

✧ ALL WRITING BELONGS TO ME. PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. ✧

[queenklu]

Seeing AI discourse about writing college papers reminded me of the time I got Called In To A Professor's Office over a paper I wrote that he thought was plagiarized.

See, the thing I had realized about myself by that point was that I am...VERY BAD....at reading the assigned books. I have every intention of doing so while in class, but the instant I'm out of class the book no longer exists (what adhd). So by the end of the year I would always wind up getting screwed over in the book buy-back with books I'd literally never cracked the spine on, because it turned out speed-reading sparknotes could get me through class discussion and I'd developed a System(TM) for panic-writing an essay the night before.

This system was: find an online pdf of the book. Skim. Read summaries. Pull quotes from pdf. Bullshit. Estimate the page number for any citations because no one actually checks those, and use the publication data from the syllabus for the works cited. This works Very Well if you are, like me, a sarcastic asshole who knows teachers want to read an entertaining essay instead of yet another regurgitation of whatever sounds academically "best."

So here's this history class, which actually turns out to be an english class in disguise, and we are told to read and write an essay on The First Autobiography Ever Written in the English Language, which just so happens to be about a lady who had FOURTEEN kids, suffered a psychotic break, and spent the rest of her life campaigning to become a saint.

It's called The Book of Margery Kempe. I cannot express to you how smug I am to find a pdf of the exact same copy we'd been told to buy, down to the same publishing house and year of publication. I won't even have to bullshit page numbers.

...It's written in Middle English.

Here begynnyth a schort tretys and a comfortabyl for synful wrecchys, wherin thei may have gret solas and comfort to hem and undyrstondyn the hy and unspecabyl mercy of ower sovereyn Savyowr Cryst Jhesu, whos name be worschepd and magnyfyed wythowten ende, that now in ower days to us unworthy deyneth to exercysen hys nobeley and hys goodnesse....

This is fine, College!me thinks. A little tedious, but clearly the entire class has successfully done the reading enough to talk about it, so it must be doable. They probably had discussions about the language and I forgot to pay attention.

So I write the essay, pulling quotes from this middle english pdf that I can only half read, but that I can certainly form opinions about. Is it my best essay? No. Is it snarky? Yes. Is it in MLA format? That's mostly what they'll be checking for.

Then the Professor pulls me aside after class and asks to speak with me in his office. I have another class that I have to go to, and because I'm commuting in to college I won't be back on campus until two days later; he says that's fine, and all of this is settled and we've parted ways before it hits me how fucking fucked I am.

It must be the book.

He's going to call me out on not buying the book.

Can he tell I didn't read the book?

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

And I have two days to stew in it.

By the time our meeting rolls around I am a Mess. He is going to fail me. I am going to die. If I open my mouth at all I will burst into tears. Perhaps there is the slimmest chance if I act Normal this will be fine??????

P: So I read your essay...

Me: *using my Normal face* ⊙.☉

P: ...and I'm just wondering...

Me: ⊙.☉'

P: ...where you got the quotes?

Me: ⊙.☉'''

P: .....because the version of the book we read....isn't in Middle English.

Me: ⊙.☉??????????

P: I actually thought you might have plagiarized it--

Me: ⊙.☉!!!!!!!

P:--but to be honest it's written so entirely in your style that it's impossible this essay is plagiarized.

Me: ........⊙.☉.....

P: .... Anyway.

P: Just wanted to chat.

P: Uh. You're free to go.

Me:

HERE'S THE LESSONS LEARNED:

Just buy the book Cite the pdf. The professors Do Not Care how you've read the book as long as they can plausibly believe you've read it.

Just read the book Listen. I wasn't going to get anywhere near an ADHD diagnosis until my 30s. And if they can't tell you didn't read the book, then is it really the same as not reading the book? I think Margery would agree you gotta make some shit up to get anywhere in life.

Being a sarcastic asshole in my academic papers saved me from a plagiarism charge.

[llyfrenfys]

On Cadi as the Welsh equivalent of Queer

(image: screenshot of the entry for Cadi in Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru)

Some of you may already know this, but for those who don't, Cadi is a Welsh word which is analogous to the word Queer in English. I say analogous, since their meanings aren't quite a 1:1 match. But for shorthand, Welsh equivalent of Queer sums 90% of it up.

It has been suggested tentatively by some to use Cadi as the Welsh translation of Queer. I'm going to explore arguments for and against, but ultimately the choice to use/not use Cadi as a 1:1 with Queer is entirely up to you. Warning that this post is quite long, but I do hope you'll stick with it- please let me know what you think in the notes!

Without further ado, let's get into it:

Definition of Cadi:

Cadi is a term which has existed in Welsh since the 17th Century (roughly) and generally refers to effeminacy in men (real or perceived). Over time, the meaning of the term has expanded to refer to other (Queer) things as well. But the term itself largely has been applied to Queer men and queer masculinities through time.

The term itself derives from the girl's name Catrin and you will come across women who call themselves Cadi as a shortening of their name (like Liz from Elizabeth and so on). In this way, there is a strong point of comparison to be had with the English queer pejorative Nancy, which also derives from a girl's name.

Can Cadi be considered the Welsh equivalent of Queer?

So now to the real meat of the post. Can Cadi be considered the Welsh equivalent of Queer? The answer to that is, unsurprisingly, complicated.

As described above, Cadi is a term which has had strong associations with male effeminacy (real or perceived) and has close parallels to the English term Nancy, which is also nearly exclusively applied to Queer men and masculinities. What this presents is a quandary and I'll explain what I mean by that. But first, we need to outline the history of LGBTQIA+ terminology in general (in the West).

LGBTQIA+ Terminology and the inclination towards cis gay language:

This is a huge huge topic which I cannot possibly do justice to here alone, so I'd highly recommend reading up on these topics when you have time, but for the sake of brevity, here is a tldr on the history of LGBTQIA+ terminology (slightly UK-centric but similar events also happened in the US and Canada, as well as other parts of Europe).

Campaign for Homosexual Equality (CHE) is a British Lesbian and Gay rights organisation founded in the 1960s, during a time of great social and political change. The organisation's membership grew and grew well into the 70s before declining in the 80s. It was during this time that some lesbian members of the organisation left citing erasure of lesbian issues and misogyny in the movement. CHE and similar gay and lesbian rights movements in this period had been inclined to centre gay men's issues in their activism, which understandably led to many lesbians feeling alienated. Some lesbians left in the late 70s and early 80s and began to form their own advocacy groups. This indirectly fed into a wider feminist upheaval at the time and led to the rise of lesbian feminism, which aimed to centre lesbian issues within feminism, but unfortunately (for complex historical reasons) did then contribute to the proliferation of rad\ical femi\nism within the Queer community, which then unfortunately contributed to the rise of tra\ns exclu\sionary rad\ical fem\inism. Regardless of the unfortunate rise of transphobia within the lesbian feminist movement, the original catalyst for the formation of these groups was a sense of alienation from the rest of the Queer community because gay men's issues had been prioritised over lesbian issues, when both could have been tackled together, with each other. This alienation was echoed in the names of organisations and events- many early homosexual rights groups only had homosexual or gay in their group names. It took many years before advocacy groups started adding 'and lesbian' to their names and events.

(For further reading, I would suggest watching this video by Verilybitchie about the history of lesbian erasure in homosexual advocacy and how that led to (some) lesbian groups excluding bi and trans people in the same way they were excluded by gay men)

What does that history mean for Cadi?:

Because of a history of lesbian (and by extension, women's) exclusion from homosexual advocacy groups, is Cadi the best term to use as a catch-all given its strong associations with men's expressions of Queerness? (namely, that as a pejorative it is largely aimed at femininity in men and subsequent assumed homosexuality). It is important to consider if using Cadi as an equivalent of Queer would centre a (typically cis) gay experience/expression of Queerness and if that would alienate other members of the LGBTQIA+ community.

However, a counterpoint to this would be that there are variations of the term Cadi which do include other experiences of Queerness:

Cadi ffan (similar to just 'Cadi')- typically used to describe femininity in men and boys [N. Wales]

Cadi genod/ Cadi merched (similar to above) - effeminate man/boy [N. Wales]

Cadi bechgyn - Romping girl, tomboy [N. Wales]

Cati fachgen - (similar to above)- Romping girl, tomboy [S. Wales]

Cadi Haf - Male maypole dancer dressed as a girl

They are, however, somewhat limited for use in reclamation and have to be qualified by another noun to indicate diversion from the original term's meaning.

But when talking about the term Cadi, we often speak in the abstract- without the context in which the term is used. So here are a few extracts from texts which use the term Cadi (or variants). Since this is a mostly spoken slang term, it doesn't turn up in print often, but there are a few examples to draw on.

Examples of Cadi in texts:

Page 164- Cwm Eithin by Hugh Evans (1931):

"DAWNSIO HAF Ceir darnodiad o'r ddefod hynafol dawnsio haf yn Y Gwyl- fedydd, 1823, tudal. 306, gan un a'i geilw ei hun “ Callestrwr,” fel yr arferid hi yn Callestr (Fflint, mae'n debyg). Ym mis Ebrill arferai o ddwsin i ugain o bobl ieuainc ymuno i baratoi ar gyfer y ddawns. Gwisgai'r dawnswyr eu crysau yn uchaf wedi eu haddurno ag ysnodennau a blodau. Cariai'r arweinydd fforch bren ar lun y llythyren Y. Gwnïid lliain o'r naill fraich i'r llall, ac addurnid y fforch ag amryw lestri arian, tebotiau, llwyau, cigweiniau, efc. Byddai gyda hwy grythor yn ei ddillad ei hun, “cadi” mewn gwisg merch, ac ynfytyn mewn gwisg ryfedd â phlu yn ei ben"

[emphasis mine]

This extract is the author's account of Dawnsio Haf- a Summer dance held on May Day and his investigations into it. At his time of writing (1931) the practice has died out, but later in this chapter he interviews an old woman from the Conwy Valley who participated in the dances as a child. Evans draws upon a source from 1823 for his description of Dawnsio Haf. In it, he mentions that 20 young dancers meet up for the dance wearing shirts decorated with ribbons and flowers. A leader carries a fork in the shape of the letter "Y"- between each point on the "Y" a cloth was strung with silverware dangling from it to make noise. With the 20 dancers would be a crwth-player (crythor), a Cadi in women's clothes and a fool with a feather on his cap and odd clothes.

This usage is quite archaic and refers to a folk dance- much like mumming or morris-dancing. There is however, a picture in the People's Collection Wales titled 'Cadi'r Big' taken by the prolific photographer John Tomas c. 1875, near Y Ro-wen:

Which is very interesting as Cadi'r Big has dried flowers and ribbons attached to their clothes, much like in the description in Cwm Eithin. This is very likely a picture of a "Cadi" from a Dawnsio Haf.

Page 4- Y Ddraig Binc Issue 4 (1994):

Y Ddraig Binc was a Welsh-language Queer magazine published by CYLCH, a gay and lesbian rights organisation based in Aberystwyth. The term Cadi-ffan is included in an article about the commercialisation of Queer identity in the magazine's fourth edition.

"...Nawr te, medd wrtho’i hun, be’ gymera’ i’r mis hwn, copi o GQ ynte Arena neu ydw i, efallai, yn teimlo’n ddigon ifanc a trendi am Sky? Ond aros funud, beth yw hyn? Dau gylchgrawn steil newydd a gwynt digamsyniol cadi-ffan arnyn nhw?

Ydy, mae’r hyn a oedd y tu hwnt i ddychymyg wedi digwydd. Mae grymoedd y farchnad rydd a chystadleuaeth wedi cyrraedd y byd cyhoeddi hoyw - rhaid bod Lêdi T wrth ei bodd. Nawr fe gaiff llanc hoyw ddewis o ddeunydd darllen sgleiniog, llawn erthyglau a hysbysebion yn arbennig ar ei gyfer ef a’i rywioldeb. Hwrê! Fedr hynny ddim bod yn beth drwg. Neu a fedr o?..."

[emphasis mine]

This humorous article (dealing with an important topic, mind) pokes fun at the arrival of Queer commercialisation. The article opens by explaining that there's a ruckus in the gay world (and not two old queens getting into fisticuffs)- but that this ruckus is taking place at WHSmith (UK stationery shop and newsagents)- apparent winner of this year's most vulgar uniform award. The author goes on to describe a hypothetical situation in which a gay man walks into a WHSmith to buy a magazine. He wonders whether to get a copy of GQ or Arena (men's style magazines- remember this was published in Section 28 Era so explicitly gay magazines were not common) or is he trendy enough to read Sky? (film and tv magazine). But wait- what's this? Two new style magazines with a whiff of Cadi-ffan about them? The author explains that yes, the unimaginable has happened. The forces of the free market and competition have reached the world of gay publishing.

Now a gay youth has the choice of glossy reading material, full of articles and advertisements especially for him and his sexuality. Hooray! That can't be a bad thing. Or can it? Writes the author. The article is very witty and I recommend a read (find a pdf copy here). But the usage of Cadi-ffan here is very much in a reclaimed sense. Though it must be noted that the story is told through a stereotypical cis gay lens.

Conclusions:

As I said at the start of this post, you are free to claim or not claim Cadi as you wish. However, as awareness of Welsh LGBTQIA+ terminology increases, I wanted to raise important questions and start a conversation about the words we have, what we want them to be and how they have been used against us. I hope in any case that this post has been interesting to you. If it has, please reblog this or add any comments/thoughts in the notes, tags or in my asks.

Beth yw eich barn chi? I'd love to hear other's thoughts on this and start a conversation about it! Diolch am ddarllen

[nanamimizz]

tags: wc: 600 sfw, gn reader, reader is getting older, crying,established relationship, mention of death and morality. angst and fluff. @itoshisoup for you miss mao.

synopsis: the woes of mortal life catch up to you, and you can't help but worry about what happens when you are no longer there.

You had found a gray hair.

That’s what started it all - Zhongli had come home late to your shared home with it all dark, not even the front lamp lit. He finds you in bed, wrapped in sheets and quilts as if to hide from the world. He sits on the side of the bed your body isn’t curled against and places his non-gloved hand on the formation of your head. The darkened flesh pulses with the energy of geo and the lines are the only light in the dim room.

You call his name and it’s muffled, but he is quick to affirm that yes, he is here. You take your head out of the blankets and he finds you with tear tracks and mussed hair.  Orange eyes goal like coals and soften as he looks at the mess you’ve made of yourself. Zhongli asks what’s wrong and fresh tears spring from your eyes.

“I’m getting older.” You say and something in the orange of Zhongli’s eyes softens from cor lapis to a flame, Zhongli is filled with some sort of melancholy at your despair.

“You are human my dear, it is how it must be.” You sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of your hand when a tear rounds down the edge of your nose. His hands come to hold the softest part of your face, just as his hands hold the softest parts of your heart.

“When I die, I won’t be with you anymore - what if,” You stumble over your words but manage to utter them with the comfort of his thumbs rubbing into the smooth panels of your face.

“What if when I die, you don’t remember me anymore,” you utter punctuated by another wave of tears that spill down your tears.

“That won’t ever come to pass my dear,” Zhongli says, his voice soft like the rumble of a lit hearth. Warm and kind, promising all sorts of comforts in the shape of teas and soups. You look at his red eyes and your own hands come to rest on his that still hold your face.

“If you could make me immortal - could you?” 

“No.” His answer comes swiftly and is as stern as stone. You deflate and hurt paints your face as his refusal but his hands anchor you in the moment rather than what you feel.

“Why not?” You feel like some sort of child asking for something that they can’t have and an emotion you can’t describe flashes across Zhongli’s handsome face. Pain, grief, jealousy, and acceptance dance in the embers of his eyes.

“Your human life is among the richest and most profound things in the world. It will give you more happiness than anything. You are so fortunate to be born a human and to have a mortal life.” He says and it’s like his words are gospel and the fog of your despair of events not passed is blown away; you understand why out of all beings in the vast history of Liyue he was the most followed and praised. You nod, following along with what it is he says.

“One day, you will die and I will be the one to bury your body. And I will envy the earth that wraps around you.” He reassures you and you let him press his lips to your forehead and from his lips he rests his own forehead on yours. Even with touch alone, you can feel the difference in your bodies - his weight, his warmth is unnatural but it is yours all the same.

“I will never love another the way I love you. Never.” He murmurs into your skin and those glowing arms wrap around your form with the same devolution as the earth that would one day hold your body in a way Zhongli could not, but for some time.

For now, Zhongli will savor every moment he has with you, like shards that will be for the king of all jewels and that there will never be another.

[monsteraficionado]

So, are you new to Watcher?

Whether you just discovered the dudes from Buzzfeed Unsolved premiered a new ghost hunting show or you stumbled across Ghost Files without having ever seen Ryan and Shane before, perhaps you find yourself a bit lost regarding Watcher.

So here I present a not-quite-short (yet I hope comprehensive) guide to Watcher Entertainment!

What is Watcher?

Back in 2019, three ex-BuzzFeed employees (Ryan Bergara and Shane Madej from BuzzFeed Unsolved and Steven Lim from Worth It) joined forces and announced they were launching a new production company and YouTube channel called Watcher. They toiled at it for an entire year and their new channel premiered on January 10th, 2020 with seven shows, the first of which was Puppet History (but more on the shows later).

They started with a grand total of five employees: the three cofounders, Brittney Lee (Production Supervisor) and Anthony Frederick (Creative Director of Post Production). Now, Team Watcher has grown to include several more people, including some ex-BuzzFeeders like Katie LeBlanc (who used to produce BFU and Worth It, today is Head of Development at Watcher), Annie Jeong (who you may know from Worth It and the Berry Boys video featuring Ryan and Shane, now a Senior Creative Producer) and Mark Celestino (cameraman for BFU, now Senior Creative Producer at Watcher).

Currently, Watcher presents a new episode of whichever show it's currently in season (right now it's Ghost Files of course) every Friday at 12 PT. Between shows, or sometimes on Wednesdays, they might air One-Offs, which are smaller, well, one off videos. Over at their Patreon you can find more content including:

Early Thursday access for Friday videos

Watcher Weekly+, a weekly talk show featuring any combination of cofounders and/or Watcher crew, where they answer fan questions and sometimes open fan mail. NOTE: for a taste of these, you can refer to their now-extinct Watcher Weekly show, formerly airing on Wednesdays over at YouTube dot com.

For higher tiers, a monthly livestream also featuring any combination of cofounders where they shoot the shit for an entire hour

Also for higher tiers, audio commentaries for select episodes

And for the highest tier, Discord AMAs with different members of Team Watcher.

Onto the shows:

Watcher has many shows. A whole lot of them. Ryan, Steven and Shane are very creative guys and it shows. When they first started, they began with a new episode of a different show every week, which was for some people very confusing. They've settled into airing whole seasons now, so after we're done with the premiere season of Ghost Files, we'll move onto a new season of Puppet History and then onto another show.

Because it's so many shows, I'll only describe the ones that are still being produced, along with the shows that premiered for the first time in 2022, in chronological order.

Puppet History

Helmed by Shane Madej, this was the first show that appeared on Watcher and the host, a puppet named The Professor (played by Shane) has become the de facto mascot of Watcher. If you liked the Hot Daga and Ruining History, this is essentially its spiritual successor. Here, The Professor leads Ryan and a different guest through a journey of a wacky historical event, while they compete to see who will become History Master. The lore gets really deep.

Top 5 Beatdown

A Ryan Bergara concoction, Shane and Ryan debate asinine topics ranging from the hottest Disney cartoon characters to top dog breeds, comparing top 5 lists and often fighting about it. When they do not fight, the duo showcases their one shared braincell. In every episode, they have a guest who knows more about the topic than them.

Are You Scared?

Also created by Ryan Bergara, Are You Scared? began as a Zoom show and evolved to being shot in person after pandemic restrictions eased. Ryan tells Shane one of the spookiest stories from the internet, and they both laugh over it. In a way, the format is similar to Unsolved, and the promotion campaigns for it are hilarious: once, Ryan pretended he'd been kidnapped by The Professor and made an entire photo shoot about it.

Too Many Spirits

From the galaxy brain of Katie LeBlanc, this was the first show shot in person during the pandemic, and also the only Friday show to feature all three co-founders. Ryan and Shane gather in a backyard to read ghost stories submitted by fans, but they get drunker and drunker every episode. They start off very normal, but by the fourth and last episode of each season, they are absolutely unhinged. By the way, the drinks? Handmade by Steven Lim himself, who turns out, is a (not) wonderful bartender. In the most recent seasons, we get an actual professional bartender, Ricky Wang, who has a very special working relationship with Steven.

Dish Granted

Created by and for the suffering of Steven Lim, Dish Granted is about love and food and friends. In each episode, Steven sets out to grant a friend of his their dream dish, even if it costs Steven his own sanity. Currently, the episode with Simu Liu holds the honor of being the Watcher video with most views. I love it, and you should too.

Worth a Shot

In each episode of this show hosted by Ricky Wang (of Too Many Spirits fame), he creates a special cocktail for a different guest. Ricky definitely knows what he is doing, and so, this show has a very soothing quality to it.

Eat Like Me

Also made by Steven Lim. Join Steven as he learns more about different cultures and/or lifestyles as he eats for one day as someone else. In the pilot season, he discovered the joys of the diet of a Korean college student, the woes of British people, and the pain of a professional eating competitor.

Pretty Historic

Created by Selorm Kploanyi and directed by none other than Sara Rubin, Pretty Historic looks at history from another point of view: beauty and makeup. It is an incredibly pretty show, the aesthetics are top notch, and it dives into really interesting subjects. I am begging for y'all to watch this.

Ghost Files

Finally, Ghost Files doesn't really need an introduction. Ryan Bergara's baby, the official successor to BuzzFeed Unsolved, and in the words of Shane Madej (to which I subscribe wholeheartedly), the perfect ghost hunting show. Only an episode and it's corresponding Debrief have been released until now, but it's so good. So different from BFU in a much, much better way, while still feeling incredibly familiar. Wow. The Ghoul Boys have done it for real.

However, Watcher has a vast catalogue with even more shows than those, plus all of their one-offs. My personal favorites and recommendations to you are Weird and/or Wonderful World (with Shane and Ryan) and Homemade (hosted by Steven). Homemade particularly feels like a work of art that I don't feel gets appreciated as much as it should.

Also, I greatly recommend watching Ryan and Shane Eat Everything Boysenberry (Again): Bless Annie for doing this for us. Berry Boys 2, once again taking off at Knott's Berry Farm.

So where can I keep up with Watcher?

If you aren't following them in at least one of their social media accounts, you might want to do that:

Their YouTube official channel

Tumblr

Twitter

Instagram

TikTok

Patreon

Finally!

These are the bare essentials to getting into Watcher, but I hope it's useful to at least one person. If you have any questions, ask away! Imo, the fandom is incredibly nice and would love to help any newbie find their way through.

[mariacallous]

Anyone who wants to understand Russian history should ignore Russian President Vladimir Putin. But anyone who wants to understand Putin’s strategic aims should pay close attention to his reading of history. The Russian president’s long lectures and essays on Kyivan Rus and World War II are not random tangents but rather the centerpieces driving his regime’s aggression against Ukraine. The Kremlin’s efforts to impose its reading of history on Ukrainians living under occupation reveal the driving motives of this war, as well as its continued objectives.

Against the backdrop of the uncounted—and uncountable—civilian deaths, mass deportations, and domicide across the occupied territories of Ukraine, it might seem trivial to focus on historical memory. But while it is difficult to take one’s eyes off the satellite images of mass graves in Mariupol, if we fail to grasp the broader grammar of Russia’s war against Ukraine, then we will also fail to recognize the broader ambition of Russia’s war efforts: the deliberate annihilation of Ukrainian identity.

Russia’s strategic deployment of historical propaganda in occupied Ukraine involves a comprehensive effort to “Russify” the local populace, leveraging educational, cultural, and military instruments to erase narratives of Ukrainian history and culture.

Those who resist this erasure are themselves destroyed, often physically. In all of the occupied territories, Russian forces arrived with a list of reportedly patriotic individuals to be captured; tortured; and, if they did not break, executed. From the very beginning, as Putin made clear in a June 2021 essay titled “On the Historical Unity of Russians and Ukrainians,” Russia’s full-scale invasion was intended as a genocidal war.

Genocide aims at the annihilation of the identity and existence of a specific group—in this case, Ukrainians. The crucial aspect of identifying genocide is the intent behind these actions, which distinguishes it from other forms of violence. Evidence of the Kremlin’s destructive intent is overwhelming. And it is overwhelmingly delivered in the language of history.

Upon taking control of the Kherson and Zaporizhzhia regions in 2022, Russia launched an aggressive cultural propaganda campaign characterized by the declaration of annexation anniversaries as national holidays, the standardization of cultural practices to align with Russian norms, the establishment of historical propaganda museums, and the re-Sovietization of street names and monuments. These endeavors were aimed at rapidly embedding the occupied territories within the broader Russian cultural and legal fabric, a strategy reminiscent of Russia’s annexation of Crimea and unlike the more fragmented methods employed in the so-called Republics of Donetsk and Luhansk in eastern Ukraine after 2014.

In regions where local resistance is more robust, such as Melitopol and Berdyansk, there is an intensified effort toward cultural and educational Russification. The formation of militarized youth groups—including the Yunarmiya (Young Army), a military-patriotic movement for children and youth initiated by Russian Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu in 2016, and Eaglets of Russia—is widespread, but the scale and visibility of such programs vary in accordance with the strategic military value of each region to Russia. The nature and intensity of the propaganda varies as well, with a pronounced emphasis on Soviet-era narratives in Donetsk and Luhansk, which were likely deliberately crafted to align with the region’s recent historical narratives and multicultural identities.

While the techniques to suppress Ukrainian identity may adapt, the core objectives of Russian informational campaigns are constant. These efforts relentlessly accentuate the regions’ shared historical and cultural roots with Russia, praising Soviet accomplishments and East Slavic heritage.

The Kremlin’s agenda aims to replace Ukrainian identity with something different—something localized—that can then be subsumed into a broader pan-Russian narrative. To do so, it uses culture and education as weapons of war. This strategy includes mobile libraries, guarded by armed militias, that distribute Russian books and educational resources while destroying Ukrainian books.

Amid this evident historical manipulation and cultural destruction, Russian propaganda distributed in the occupied territories positions the Kremlin as a protector of historical truth, using this stance to propagate narratives conducive to its political and ideological ends. It paints Western and Ukrainian histories as distortions that were deliberately aimed at destroying Russian identity—which the Kremlin argues is the true identity of Ukrainians.

The Khersonshchyna cultural project in the occupied Kherson region, for example, claims to expose Ukrainian history as a series of lies and promotes militaristic Russian myths with the aim of “restoring historical justice” and “curbing the spread of lies.”

Through the adoption of Russian curricular materials, educators, and syllabi prioritizing Russian over Ukrainian heritage, occupation authorities seek to transform residents’ identities, downplaying Ukrainian heritage in favor of a Russian outlook. Russian academics have created an Orwellian 98-page glossary of new correct cultural, historical and social terminology to be enforced in Ukrainian schools on the occupied territories. In the Donbas, organizations such as the Russian Center have produced pseudo-historical doctrines to justify Russia’s occupation. The center, which is funded by the Russian World Foundation, has held a number of festivals centered around the idea that the Donbas is Russia and that Russian culture is inherent to the Donbas.

A common thread in the historical propaganda is the idea that an injustice (Russia’s separation from the lands of what it calls the Donbas and Novorossiya—meaning “New Russia”) has been resolved by the invasion. In September 2023, on the anniversary of the pseudo-referendums held in four newly occupied territories in eastern Ukraine, schools in the Zaporizhzhia region held events to celebrate “reunification with the Russian Federation,” which was referred to as a “restoration of historical justice.” In his state of the nation speech in February 2023, Putin declared the “revival” of the cultural sphere in the occupied territories to be a priority for reestablishing peace. He emphasized the importance of restoring cultural objects to forge a connection across time, asserting that this effort would integrate the local population into the “centuries-old and great Russia.”

In addition to promoting claims of historical restoration and Russian greatness, the occupying forces are systematically undermining Ukraine’s historical legacy. Their strategies extend beyond suppression to the outright destruction and appropriation of Ukrainian heritage. In 2022, the Russian government introduced legislation to legitimize the seizure of items related to Ukrainian cultural heritage. This law permits the inclusion of historical artifacts from occupied regions in the Russian Federation’s registry, effectively erasing their Ukrainian provenance.

The scope of this cultural plunder is vast, with the Ukrainian government reporting that more than 15,000 artifacts have been removed from Kherson alone. Other significant looting pertains to Scythian gold dating back to the 4th century B.C., which was stolen from the Melitopol Museum of Local Lore. That museum and the A. I. Kuindzhi Art Museum were also stripped of their valuable collections. A so-called Ministry of Culture of the Kherson Region has facilitated what the Russian occupiers term the “evacuation” of these items to the Crimean city of Sevastopol, disguising acts of looting as preservation. Their actions and justifications draw obvious parallels with previous examples of imperial looting, such as the British plunder of African artifacts, also carried out under the guise of “evacuation.” Ukrainian archives have also been targeted, with significant portions of the holdings at the regional State Archive of Kherson confiscated.

At least 14 memorials commemorating the victims of the Holodomor—a devastating famine lasting from 1932-33 that was induced by Soviet policies and used to pacify Ukrainian national identity—were dismantled in the communities of Oleshky and Ivanivka in Kherson Oblast. The destruction of these monuments is a further illustration of the erasure of Ukrainian history, especially given that this particular historical episode reveals an ongoing pattern of genocide.

The first deputy chairman of the Kherson Regional Council confirmed these reports, but the occupation administration dismissed the memorials as “tools of manipulation” that were fostering hatred toward Russia.

As they obliterate Ukrainian historical memory, Russian forces are actively reinstalling Soviet-era monuments which were previously removed in Ukraine’s decommunization efforts, especially statues of Lenin. In so doing, the Kremlin is trying to restore a (mis)imagined past of Soviet-Russian greatness and ownership over Ukraine. It is a past that nobody asked them to bring back, but one that will have grave consequences for Russia and Ukraine’s future, given that the indoctrination efforts are most targeted at children.

When Izyum came under occupation in 2022, the establishment of children’s education and cultural centers was prioritized, and such institutions were up and running within weeks. Leveraging educational reforms, patriotic education, and youth organizations, the occupation authorities worked quickly and efficiently to instill a sense of Russian identity among young Ukrainians.

These actions are not only aimed at reshaping the cultural landscape, but also at securing future generations’ allegiance to Russia, often with a clearly militarized agenda, as seen in educational initiatives such as the “Lessons of Courage,” special classes held as part of the school curriculum that glorify the military achievements of the Soviet Union and Russia. These programs include interactions with Russian veterans and encourage expressions of support for current soldiers, further integrating military values into the educational experience.

The establishment of cadet schools in the occupied territories, facilitated through agreements with Russian educational and military authorities, has formalized the militarization of youth, preparing them for possible involvement in future conflicts.

Patriotic education extends beyond the classroom and into extracurricular youth movements and thematic events. Since 2022, in the occupied territories of southern Ukraine, branches of national Russian youth organizations such as Yunarmiya have been established alongside regional military patriotic movements such as the Youth of the South.

Participants receive professional military training, supported by veterans of the Russian Armed Forces and members of the military veterans’ organization Combat Brotherhood. The training includes instruction in weaponry and military tactics. Upon completion, Yunarmiya members are often recruited into the Russian military. According to Andrey Orlov, the exiled Ukrainian director of the Center for Strategic Development of Territories, enrollment in this organization is compulsory in the temporarily occupied territories, with special services personnel frequently visiting educational institutions to engage children in military-themed games. The so-called Warrior Club in occupied Zaporizhzhia, which focuses on military indoctrination and preparation for young men nearing conscription age, highlights the extent of Russia’s commitment to this cause.

There is a grisly strategy behind Russia’s militaristic engagement with children in the occupied territories: to indoctrinate them into forsaking their national identity and to groom them to die for their new supposed motherland.

Despite Moscow’s extensive indoctrination efforts, there has been resistance. Officials from the temporarily occupied Luhansk region have reported recruitment difficulties to the Kremlin, noting a significant shortage of teachers in Russian language, literature, and history.

As Ukrainian teachers refuse to teach these subjects, educators are brought in from Russia, often housed in apartments confiscated from local residents. This considerable influx of Russian educators tasked with instilling a Russian-centric curriculum should also be seen as part of Russian demographic engineering efforts, deporting Ukrainians to Siberia and further, while bringing in Russian citizens to take their place.

Still, in the face of penalties and home raids, a notable segment of the population steadfastly refuses to enroll their children in Russian-administered schools, instead opting for home-schooling. The rejection of Russian educational mandates underscores the enduring spirit of Ukrainian identity and a widespread collective desire to preserve national consciousness. This resilience is also demonstrated by the hundreds of students who, despite the risks of retaliation, use VPNs to pursue their studies with Ukrainian universities and schools online, sustaining vital community ties.

Moreover, Ukrainians are countering attempts to expunge their cultural memory. Last November, residents in occupied areas followed the Ukrainian tradition of lighting candles in their windows to commemorate the Holodomor. Despite the perils, with Russian forces actively dismantling Holodomor memorials, many courageously shared images of these acts of remembrance via Telegram, in commitment to their history and identity.

The Kremlin’s Russification, historical falsification, youth indoctrination, militarization, and cultural manipulation reveal Russia’s true agenda. In keeping with Putin’s rhetoric since 2022, it is clear that Russia’s ongoing war on Ukraine is aimed not only at territorial control, but also at the eradication of Ukrainian national identity.

Faced with conquerors that view their national existence as a threat, the cultural resistance of Ukrainians in the occupied territories is not only a refusal to submit to Kremlin propaganda—it is an essential part of Ukraine’s survival.