#Aunt Lute Books
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OTD: Apparently we have an affinity for publishing some outstanding works on December 1! Join us in celebrating these books on the anniversary of their publication.
- ¡Cuéntamelo! published 12/1/2017
- Frontline Feminism published 12/1/1995
- Haggadah published 12/1/1997
- Our Feet Walk the Sky published 12/1/1993 Head over to the link in bio to get copies of all of these for yourself.
[ID: “Published on this day” with the covers of the books mentioned in this post]
#books#bookshelf#reading#reading reading reading#reading recommendations#cuéntamelo#Frontline Feminism#Haggadah#Our Feet Walk the Sky#aunt lute#aunt lute books#auntlutebooks
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Been thinking a lot about the torment of my current dnd character: Astra
They were raised with high expectations placed on them - the oldest "true" child of the noble Thorngrove family's second son. They needed to do well, they needed to prove themself especially because their father had failed to live up to their grandparents' expectations in many ways and they admired their uncle and aunt who had risen to being a general and marshal respectively and highly respected dragonriders. It became their dream to become just like them and trained and studied hard for decades for it.
Their adoptive siblings were never quite accepted by their grandparents but Astra themself was close with them. The older ones, at least. There was a halfling named Poppy, who was the oldest of the children and looked after the younger ones to protect them from and help them avoid the scorn of their grandparents. She was never as close with Astra because of this - Astra was never someone who needed her protection because they would never have to deal with the same things that the adopted children did - but they had an understanding from their shared affection of the other siblings.
Bree was the second oldest - already five years younger than Poppy - and was a very cheerful gnome who got up to a lot of trouble. She was the one closest with Astra and also with Poppy - their primary connecting tie. Then, there was Soren, a half-elf the same age as Astra. He was quiet and bookish and his studious personality matched Astra's very well. While Bree would often drag them both out on "adventures", Soren and Astra when left alone would be very content with sitting in the castle library with a book.
For a long while, it was just them, though they gained more siblings later on - both blood related and adopted - and Astra did love them as well, the adoration that they had for Bree and Soren especially was unmatched. When Bree grew up, she knew she couldn't stick around. Poppy had taken up a job in the castle kitchens to carry on her role of looking after her siblings when they needed her but Bree had always had a tougher time and she couldn't be cooped up. When she made up her mind to become a bard and travel the country, or the world, Astra gifted her with the lute that they had been given years back. It would be better in her hands anyway. Soren always admired that she did that and, when he came of age, he followed Bree into adventure.
Astra, meanwhile, trained with a monk by the sea and met a sea elf named Ariawyn. They took part in the Trial of the Drakes with another (adopted) brother of theirs: Alaric, their best friend Ariawyn, and many others and all three of them succeeded. They each formed a bond with a dragon egg and it was something that Astra would always consider the best moment of their life as they held it in their arms.
When it came to deciding their role along with the others that they were going to run a territory with with as dragonriders, Astra ended up having to take over the role of spymaster. They weren't prepared for it and they didn't know how to properly be a spymaster but they were determined to do their best. Running the territory was turbulent - especially at first - and all of them were scrambling to figure out how to do this but most worrying of all was a dream they'd shared fortelling the return of a great evil: the Lichelord. A man so terrible that the spirit realm itself refused to take him. A mortal-turned-immortal so powerful that it took several gods smiting him to finally be rid of him in an act so devastating that the land surrounding where this event happened is a permanent scar of necrotic energy.
Somehow, they were involved in his fate: whether he would get brought back or not. Bit by bit, they uncovered more information about what bits of their prophecy meant and found clues to what they might need to do.
After an incident where Astra and another of the council, Ariphena, almost lost their dragon eggs, Astra became much more protective over their egg. They would visit it every day. The increased security wasn't as reassuring as watching over it themself so, with the absence of the one who had been looking after them (a dragon lord who had left to tell the king when Astra had confided in him about the prophecy they'd had), Astra took up the self-appointed role of guardian of the eggs. They would read in their egg's presence - sometimes, in the dead of night when they were sure they were alone they would read to the egg in the hopes that the dragon inside might hear it or that the egg might hatch soon. Alaric and Ariawyn's dragon eggs had hatched and although they knew it could take decades - even a century - Astra still hoped that they would have the same luck that their loved ones had. To an outside observer, sometimes it could seem like Astra's office had moved to where the eggs were being kept because when they just had paperwork to do, they would move it to stay by their egg. Most amusing to their council members, perhaps, was their newfound habit of giving the egg a gentle pat each time they arrived or left after Ariawyn and Ariphena had suggested showing the egg affection.
Soon enough, their clues about what they should do to prevent the return of the Lichelord turned to a potential answer in the form of theories matching up with a vision that one of them had received. All of it was pointing that they needed to go to the Otherland and what better time to go than as soon as possible. With Ariawyn deciding to stay to look after the territory, the other three quickly put the plans together to find that place in Alaric's vision. They were off within a matter of days.
The Court of Flames was a place of endless danger. The time they spent there was no more than a few days but it was filled with more danger and fear than Astra had faced in their lifetime.
They made it back, with only a brief accidental run-in with a giantkin beholder where they landed that they fled from, and talked at length about what they should do to find out how long it had been - or not been - whether they were in the past or future or returned a mere few minutes after they'd left. They wanted to make sure not to run into their past selves but as it turned out, they needn't have worried because as they got back to Dragonspire, it was very evident that time had passed. The place was bigger and the streets were lit up, but as they ran into people, nobody recognised them. Astra tried to get into the tower where they used to live - where their eggs were - but got turned away, with the guard saying impersonation was a crime.
Upon getting arrested from another event and reuniting with Ariawyn, they learned that it had been 187 years since that day that they left. That news in and of itself was devastating. To return to a colder Ariawyn, one that didn't seem to care for them, citing that they had abandoned her, and then to realise that the siblings that Astra had once been so close to were dead. Astra had never said goodbye to them. They hadn't had the chance.
With tears in their eyes but a voice that they tried to keep as even as possible, Astra asked Ariawyn to just grant them the mercy of one thing: to tell them if their egg had hatched. With a look of genuine sympathy and regret, Ariawyn looked to the bronze dragonborn that stood to the side of the room. Their dragon had hatched and grown up without them and they hadn't been there for them like they were supposed to be. They hadn't been able to teach them things and show them sights that they'd once promised to the egg on one of those nights where Astra was awake at hours no one else was.
Just a few days ago, everything had been okay.
"Was it worth it? Going to the Otherland?" Ariawyn had asked during that reunion.
"It was not worth it for me," was Astra's reply.
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1347 - Day 1
Turns out that all these rumours about an invasion are true - the neighbouring lords call for battle but strangely, there's no recruiter working in Windenburg. Cassian breathes a sigh of relief. He wouldn't know what to do if he had to leave his family now.
He takes care of the harvest instead an plans to visit Sir McKinely in a few days to talk about the work he needs done in his new home.
James realises that he just isn't made for farmwork. The only thing he feels capable of is taking care of the chickens now... he also has a rare moment of bonding with his brother Evan before he returns to his studies. He's reading a very interesting book about the stars and their alignment right now and he can't help but make some notes on it.
Rachel is walking a bit better now and all that work running around is making her quite hungry. There's no food in the house that's save from her!
Aunt Charlotte visits one day and brings gifts for the children. She and Madeline really have a close bond.
"Thank you so much, Auntie, I love it! I'm almost big enough to play that lute you gave me as well. When I can play a bit I will visit you at the abbey!"
A few weeks into 1347 Cassian visits the new McKinley homestead.
"I still need some structural work done and then there's furniture. I would appreciate it if you could help with that as well."
"I will do my best, sire. Do you know when you're family will be here, have you heard from them at all?"
"Not yet, boy, but I don't think they will be sending letters. The whole thing is dangerous enough as it is. We just have to be patient and wait. You said they would have started their journey around the end of last year, right?"
"Yes, that's what they planned to do."
"Then I will not be expecting them for at least two more months."
Cassian gets to work on his tasks.
He never had much skill in blacksmithing but carpentry is something he has a passion for.
After a few weeks he managed to build an awful lot of furniture for the house and the structural work is done, too. Now all thats left is the upstairs.
Even though the ground is still cold he also planted some crops so that the family will have something to live off when they finally arrive. He intends to take care of the garden until they come.
In Bergen Sven has to say goodbye to his family for now. His brothers call came and he needs to answer it.
"Be safe, Father.... and write, please, so that we know you're ok!"
Elsa is struggling to keep her emption out of her voice.
"Yes, love, of course. I will write as often as I can. Your mother will read you the letters, okay?"
He kisses Verna and Nora goodbye and walks off towards the castle.
The small family now has to learn to live on their own. But one day while foraging Elsa finds something amazing.... She stumbles upon a lost dog waiting for her right in front of their house!
"Why hello there... what are you doing here all alone in the cold?"
The small creature follows her footsteps to the house and she feels sorry for him.
"Do you want to come inside?"
"I promise I will take care of him, mother, can we please keep him?"
Nora agrees. A little happiness in their life is something they need badly right now.
"Of course, love.... of course he can stay."
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PLEASE tell us about cricket that name is so cool
IM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO REPLY TO THIS BUT OH MY GOODNESS I WOULD LOVE TO I ADORE MY BOY
fair warning, this is going to be very long, but i will absolutely talk about cricket
he's part of a world me and my friend have called the brambleverse! character dissertation contained below and sketch included just for u!
cricket is a centaur bard from the plains of the world, currently living in a forest town called mistclaw where he's the mail delivery boy and plays music in the tavern section of the inn for town residents and visitors alike! his best friend in the whole world is a little felvine named thorn, her and her two brothers (bristle and thistle) are bramble's kits
he has a menagerie of instruments (lute and lyre, mainly, as well as a panflute, ocarina, and most likely more), he sometimes gives a bitchass wizard music lessons, and absolutely loves tea. he's got special pockets in his normal everyday outfit where he'll collect little pieces of nature (pretty flowers, herbs, occasionally perhaps a cool rock) to leave at any temples he might encounter in the woods left abandoned long ago
he absolutely loves exploring anywhere he has the opportunity to; the forest, along the tabby-tail river, nearby villages, and even havengleam, the huge capital city where the queen resides. he visits the library there to do his own reading (mostly about old music he can learn and either regale people with as is or convert to the current era/change in his own way) and to exchange books people in mistclaw want or need to return
thank you so so much for asking about him it made my day!! i love my little man so much.
cricket misses the nomadic life of his old centaur herd a lot, and is kind of torn between both lives that he loves, but his aunt silene (not blood related) sending him letters and visiting him every once in a while when the herd is close enough makes him feel better :]
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Congratulations, Kathya!!
Last week, author Kathya Alexander celebrated the launch of her debut novel Keep A'Livin' to a standing room only audience at @ThirdPlaceBooks Seward Park.
This week, Kathya will be in the Bay Area...Tuesday at San Francisco Public Library and Thursday at Chapter510 in conversation with Duane Horton!!
Sistah Scifi Series: Keep A'livin' Date - 04.18.24
Time - 6:30 PDT Location - Chapter 510 & the Dept. of Make / Believe 546 9th Street Oakland, CA 94607.
Kathya Alexander discusses her debut novel, Keep A'Livin' (Aunt Lute, 2024) This beautifully lyrical novel explores the reality of activism as more than just a handful of speeches given at protests, the costs to those who dedicate themselves to activist work, and the passion that drives us ever onward to a better, more just future.
Register: https://sistahscifi.com/pages/events!
Lear more about Keep A'Livin' : https://sistahscifi.com/products/keep-a-livin
#library #SistahScifi #SistahScifiSeries #AuntLuteBooks #KeepALivin #KathyaAlexander #Chapter510 #bayarea #oakland #authorsoftiktok
Chapter 510 & the Dept. of Make / Believe Aunt Lute San Francisco Public Library Third Place Books Seward Park
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The Fat Illusion
By Vivian F. Mayer
From Shadow On a Tightrope: Writings by Women on Fat Oppression (eds Schoenfelder, Weiser; Spinsters/Aunt Lute, 1983)
If you have any doubts, a random handful of women’s magazines from any grocery store will make it clear that fat is one of the biggest issues on women’s minds. Almost every issue of every women’s magazine carries an article on how to lose weight. Fear of fat is so entrenched in the American mind that even the most radical women, who have spent years exploring and rebuilding women’s consciousness through the Women’s Liberation Movement, have failed to spot the fraud.
In gatherings of the highest revolutionary spirit, you will see right-on feminists drinking cans of diet soda to avoid being fat. That they are avoiding fat is a problem but it is not the problem: women ought to be free to choose how they will look. The problem is the belief that drinking a low-calorie soft drink enables them to choose their figures, the illusion that fat or thin is a matter subject to personal choice and control. They are locked into that old-time religion promulgated by the eleven-billion-dollar sexist industry that has made the lives of fat women a living hell.
The electrified rat has learned how to control pleasure. When it presses a button, the electrodes that scientists implanted in its head stimulate the pleasure center of its brain. Since it prefers this intense pleasure even to food, the rat will soon starve to death. –observed in a psychology laboratory
I feel good when I feel hungry. Each pang of hunger reminds me that I’m in control, so I feel proud and successful.
–a woman on a reducing diet
Women on reducing diets are not in the extreme circumstances of the electrified rat. The woman probably will not starve to death. The rat probably experiences much greater pleasure.
Figure control is one of the few forms of control most women are allowed to exercise. The fact that some men also struggle against their weight is overshadowed by the legions of woman-oriented reducing industries: the hunger clubs, the sweat salons, the pseudo-foods advertised always in the mouths of slender women. The hunger that average-sized women endure for a few weeks–only to gain back all the weight they lose–fat women endure for months, even years, only to gain back all the weight they lose. No one talks about the 99% failure rate of all reducing diets. Everyone’s too busy talking about the diets.
Even among women who, as a group, have gone the furthest toward renouncing standards of beauty and “health” defined by patriarchal culture–radical feminists and Lesbian feminists–the diet talk continues:
I know I’d feel better if I just lost about fifteen pounds.
She was fat as a way of avoiding men. Since coming out as a Lesbian, she’s lost a lot of weight, and you should see how great she looks!
I really like some fat women as sisters, as good friends. They just don’t turn me on sexually.
Aside from a superficial awareness that fat women are oppressed by looksism, radical women still see fat as a personal sickness: abnormal, undesirable, lamentable, and curable.
The “facts” about fat as known to the woman-on-the-street can be summarized as follows: That fat people lack “will power,” they’re fat because they eat more than thin people. That they overeat to make up for personality problems or because they’re not in touch with their true feelings. That being fat is unhealthy. That weight loss can be fun, or at least tolerable. That once the “excess” weight is lost, a slim figure can be maintained by eating as carefully as any normal slim person eats.
These “facts” are learned from doctors and therapists as well as from common knowledge. We read them in women’s magazines in articles written both by medical/psychiatric “experts” and by journalists; we also hear them in televised interviews with diet doctors and read them in the diet books that they are on television pushing into national best-sellers. All this is astonishing–because the technical medical literature flatly contradicts each of the above popular statements!
Regarding “overeating,” the fundamental sin for which fat people are constantly punished,
When food intakes of obese individuals were accurately assessed and compared with people of normal [sic] weights, the intakes were identical. There are thin people who eat excessively: “He has a huge appetite and never puts on a pound”–and there are fat people who eat too much. Likewise there are thin people and fat people who have small appetites. The average fat person is euphagic.”1
And when this euphagic (pleasant, moderate) food intake is reduced for the sake of weight loss, a United States Public Health Service
Report found that,
One well-controlled study showed that young women who lost weight on 1000-calorie diets experienced a decrease in basal metabolism rate and in [calorie] intake required to maintain their reduced weights. Follow-up studies indicated that a lower calorie intake than recorded initially must be maintained indefinitely in order to maintain the reduced weight. 2
Fat people who have endured the pain of starvation to “cure” themselves so that they can live like “normal” (i.e., slim) people find, according to a noted diet doctor, that,
Those who lose and maintain a normal [sic] weight must accept some degree of hunger and unsatisfied appetite as a way of life.3
But since prolonged hunger is a painful condition that all our biological instincts compel us to avoid,
Review of the literature since 1958 did not reveal a successful long-term study using a diet regimen by itself or in combination with drugs, psychologic treatment, or an exercise program.4
There is something grotesque about having to quote from medical sources to defend a liberation movement. Ideally the Fat Liberation Movement will be based, like other liberation movements, upon the assertion of the masses, the reality of oppressed fat people, our lifetimes spent living the contradictions that no one dares admit exist: skipping ��fattening” foods like any Vogue beauty (but get an eyeful of the difference), contemplating suicide as we gain weight back after every diet (merely by eating like a slim friend–where does the fat come from?), discovering that to maintain the weight loss one must go to bed hungry every night (is this how slim people live?). But who would believe our assertions? Not doctors, who make money and build their professional status selling weight-loss treatments on a basis that is two-thirds coverup of facts and one-third appeal to emotions. Not the general public, who think we are sick, sinful, and absurd. Not leftists who use our bodies to symbolize the oppressors–the “Fat Capitalist,” the “Pigs”–and consider us disgusting and decadent. Not we ourselves, whose ability to trust our own judgment is undermined by the skepticism with which the rest of society regards us.
Fat and thin, medical and radical, intelligentsia and common people alike, we are all, as a culture, caught in the Fat Illusion. We
believe that our bodies’ sizes are chosen and reflect personal control, and we ignore or reject all evidence that contradicts this belief.
What powerful forces of social control make this illusion so dazzling that we cling to it through starvation and spiritual pain, through absurdity and failure of hopes?
We stand at the core of the Fat Illusion, looking out. Layers of confusion and cruelty are piled upon each other like the layers of a poisonous atmosphere. Let us begin with the simplest, most personal experience of fat reality, to work our way out of this illusion.
#1: The Illusion of Personal Control
Observation: I eat what others eat. My eating is labeled “overeating,” and I am punished for it. The others who do not get fat are not accused of overeating and are not punished.
Conclusion: I don’t deserve as much food as others do. I am bad, less worthy than others.
Being fat even as a very young child, I naturally saw my condition in such absolute and terrible terms. I don’t think I could have internalized such a condemnation and stayed alive. So I, like many fat women of upwardly mobile middle-class background, found it easier to break from reality and believe that the things I saw happening were not really happening. I rationalized away the sight of slim people eating more than I did with thoughts such as, “They’d skipped lunch,” or “They plan to exercise the calories off.” I did not admit to myself that I felt hungry on the greatly reduced food intake that allowed me to maintain the “normal” body-size I’d starved down to. Or when I had to admit the hunger, I’d rationalize that it was not real because something was “wrong” with my ability to feel hunger. The prolonged hunger eventually led to eating binges, and the uncontrolled intensity of these binges led me to believe that I was crazy. A whole culture’s fat-hating forced me to accept the illusion that what I felt in my guts was imaginary and unjustified. Worse, the hunger became perverted into pleasure. Every pang was a spiritual agony atoning for my imagined sin of gluttony and bringing me one step closer to being a “normal” woman. Like the electrified rat, I thought I was in control of my pleasure and pain. Will power–self-control–figure control: these are all illusions. We are manipulated by the men in white coats.
#2: The Illusion of Freedom of Choice
Regarding aesthetic and economic intertwinement as one aspect of social control, Gudrun Fonfa writes, “Looksism is the standardization of a look (body image) and the discrimination against those who do not meet or conform to the [prescribed] image. Societies set acceptable broad limitations, because it is important to create the illusion that individuals are choosing their personal aesthetics, i.e., which bone to put through your nose.”5
If you are fat, you can choose to count calories or grams of cabohydrates; to drink Sego, Slender, or Liquid Protein diets; to eat Figurines; to go for Dr. Simeon’s Human Chorionic Gonadotropin (HCG) injections; to follow the Redbook Wise Woman’s Diet; etc., etc. The range of choices hides the fact that you are compelled to choose. As for the choices themselves, no matter which you choose you are choosing pain through hunger. If therefore you choose to reject all reducing options, you are punished with ridicule and social rejection. Unfortunately, with almost all attempts at weight loss failing, the same women who are constantly using one or another diet product are also punished for looking as though they do not use any diet product!
Social control goes beyond simply repressing deviants. Fundamental means of social control affect every person in the controlled society. One might argue logically that the persecution of fat women takes away each woman’s freedom to become fat. More accurately, since there’s no way to look at a person and know, on the basis of her size, whether she eats a lot or a little, the freedom women lose is the freedom to be comfortable with our appetites.
Most slim women believe that they would become very fat if they “let themselves go.” Particularly in the middle and upper classes, this belief is exploited into an obsession by the sexist imagemakers. As a result, millions of average-sized women experience nagging terror over every bite they eat, and come to look upon their bodies as barely tamed dragons that could turn on them any moment and erupt with fat. The fact that they can gain five pounds easily over Christmas indulgence seems to confirm this danger, and also leads them to believe that fat women are women who indulge themselves all the time. But the millions of women who are convinced that only their diets stand between them and two hundred fifty pounds struggle against their appetites to no real purpose. Approximately 99% of all attempts to lose weight end in failure; consequently, no more than 1% of the women who are slim can attribute their figures to the success of a diet.6 Why are they slim? Maybe it’s genes.7 Maybe it’s magic. The mechanism is beside the point. It is certainly not the power of will or better eating habits, since most slim women are eating as much as most fat women anyway.
Many believe that lack of exercise is what makes people fat. Here again, the individual who exercises regularly tends to gain some weight when she stops exercising. Furthermore, studies show that some groups of fat women (for example, fat adolescent women) tend to be less active than their peers.8 However, the same studies show that these less active fat women also eat significantly less than their slim peers. Instead of assuming that they are fat because they are less active, researchers should ask whether they are less active because they are underfed; lessened activity and lessened productiveness are commonly observed in semi-starved laborers in Third World countries. Those who righteously harp upon exercise ignore the role of persecution in causing fat people to be less physically active. This persecution ranges from the lack of large-sized gym uniforms for fat high school students to the open ridicule that many fat people encounter when they attempt to jog, swim, or dance in public.
Furthermore, those who blame fat on laziness ignore evidence provided by social class differences. Charwomen, for example, do hard physical labor all day long and frequently are fat. They are poor, rarely have their own cars and must rely upon public transportation, which means that they must walk to and from bus stops, etc. In contrast, front-office secretaries sit in front of typewriters all day and are usually slim. Middle-class people are more likely than the poor to own their own cars. Recently more middle-class people, especially women, have taken up regular exercise—-tennis, running, etc. Before this trend they were not all fat—-certainly not as fat as typical charwomen. Jean Mayer, one of the best-known researchers in the question of exercise and diet, writes that weight loss for fat people requires “…an attitude almost stoic in its asceticism and…the deliberate setting aside of time for what will be often lonely walking and exercising.”9 Stoicisim, asceticism, lonely walking and exercising hardly describe a typical slim woman’s life!
The point of all this is that we have much less choice over our figures than we are led to believe. The suffering of women over their figures is meaningless—-and that’s hard to accept.
#3: The Illusion That It’s “For Our Own Good”
Surrounding the shame of fat women and the fear of non-fat women is a half-century of medical and psychiatric lies which the Fat Underground calls “gynocidal malpractice.”10 In this writing, I want to devote only a little space to the radical counter-arguments that doctors make fat people sick and psychiatrists make fat people crazy. The gist of these arguments rests on observations such as the following
Regarding physical health:
That serious bodily damage, including that damage caused by prolonged starvation, is known to occur in fat bodies on diets.11 There is evidence that atherosclerosis, leading to heart attacks and strokes, is caused by repeated dieting.12 This fact alone would account for the high death rate of fat people from these illnesses.
That all studies claiming to prove that fat is unhealthy were done on people who have dieted frequently and who live in an atmosphere of constant persecution and self-hatred.
That the handful of studies existing on non-persecuted fat people suggests that they are quite healthy,13 whereas studies of persecuted groups other than fat people, such as black people, show these groups to suffer from many of the diseases “characteristic” of fat people.14
And regarding mental well-being:
That compulsiveness towards food is found in almost all individuals, fat or thin, who are starved or deprived of food, or who are threatened with starvation or deprivation.
That since all psychiatric theories are based on the assumption that fat people are fat because they eat more than slim people, this psychiatry contradicts reality and forces alienation upon fat people.
Actually, “our own good” is not the real reason for persecution of fat people. The real reason is looks. When was the last time you saw people who smoke cigarettes denied employment, laughed at when they complain about discrimination, ridiculed throughout the media, rejected as friends and as lovers?—-and they are endangering their health and other people’s as well.
Looks are always the reason for women’s dieting, even when the reasons spoken out loud, and often believed, are health. There is no way that a woman can feel good in this culture if she sees herself as fat. Feelings of sluggishness and of being “weighted down” are at least partially a reaction to the culture’s fat-hating, internalized and expressed in the “overweight” person as self-hatred. Keep in mind how many of us had fat grandmothers, and how hard and vigorously those fat grandmothers worked.
Among many women, health is not even a pretence of an issue when it comes to getting rid of fat. At a meeting of fat women in Los Angeles, April 20, 1973, one fat woman admitted her secret fantasy: “I wish I could get cancer or some other wasting disease so I could die thin.” The increasing popularity of intestinal bypass surgery reflects this desperate attitude. In this surgery, all but a few feet (sometimes inches) of the small intestine is surgically shunted aside, so that most of one’s food passes out the gut undigested. Weight losses of a hundred pounds are typical. In the months or years while she is wasting away to a slim (if jaundiced) beauty, the patient endures explosive, foul-smelling, painful diarrhea, malnutrition, and related damage to organs. The death rate for this operation is estimated conservatively at 6%, 15 and since it is still new and experimental, the long-term effects are not even known. Yet at least 5,000 intestinal bypass operations are done annually in the United States, about 80% of them on women 16 (and at an expense of typically $6,000 apiece paid for by the patient—-who, of course, is too fat to qualify for health insurance.)
To alter her organs as if they were so many cogs and circuits is the natural duty of a sex object. Usefulness (sex appeal) is the only virtue; pain is irrelevant. The relation between doctors and fat women is sado-masochistic. Believing that she is inadequate to manipulate herself as a sex object, the fat woman finally gives up her power to the doctor to manipulate (mutilate) her. Her jaws get wired shut. Her guts get cut apart. Her submissiveness approaches a passive ideal. This is the extreme fat version of the masochism inculcated in almost all women by sexism. We are brought up on the old principle that “you have to suffer to be beautiful.” The amount of pain is a matter of degree. According to the rhetoric of sado-masochism, through submission to pain, Woman obtains absolute power. What she really obtains is the illusion that she is in control.
The power that doctors hold to perpetuate or end this misery is not an illusion. Doctors continue to plead that they are puzzled by the contradictions of the obesity literature—-but their puzzlement doesn’t stop them from practicing as if obesity were just a matter of caloric bookkeeping. As long as doctors practice this way, they are using their power to abuse us.
The discovery that doctors can be women’s political enemies is not new to feminism; the self-help movement, the radical therapy movement, and writings such as those of Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English on the history of women as healers17 represent a taking-back of power by women over our bodies and minds. Fat liberation is the next stage in this women’s liberation process.
#4: The Illusion of Self-Limited Achievement
”If you really want something, you can have it—-it’s all up to you.” How many times we hear this double-edged cliche! On the one hand the cliche urges people not to give up in despair. On the other hand, it is a paralyzing excuse for the status quo, implying that the “haves” deserve their privilege and that the “have nots” are “have nots” because they are not sufficiently motivated to work for and obtain the privilege. By this trick, politics are made to look like personal psychology, and the victims bear the blame. Most doctors are deeply hooked into this self-righteous attitude. How could they respect themselves, how could they avoid demoralizing guilt, unless they believed that there was justice in a system that deprives so many and rewards so few, happily including themselves?
Under “The Illusion of Freedom of Choice” I described how the Fat Illusion tricks individual women into meaningless struggles for “figure control.” At the level of the Illusion of Self-Limiting Achievement, those individual struggles become meaningful, making up a system that controls the energies of masses of women.
Women are divided into those who fear getting fat and those who are ashamed of being fat. Through buying weight-loss ideology and products (saccharin, diet soda, Weight Watcher’s Magazine etc.) slim women assert that they are motivated to be slim and beautiful. They are rewarded with male approval and with permission to feel superior to fat women. By the same actions, fat women assert that they want to be approved of by men—-that their hearts are in the right place, that they accept domination by the Patriarchy-—but their reward is only a future promise of male approval, since as long as they are fat, even if they are dieting, they suffer persecution. However, they do get to feel superior to some mythical person who is fatter than they and who goes on eating without shame.
The value and power of male approval is increased by the suffering women go through to earn it.
I have emphasized male approval to show that this is a sexist situation keeping the mass of women dependent upon the mass of men for self-esteem. The same situation exists among Lesbians in a more subtle way.
Money and support which women pour into the weight-loss industry is turned into a whip that persecutes fat women-—creating jeering diet and fashion advertisements whose message is that only slim women are worthy of love. The resulting spectacle of fat women’s suffering terrifies women into continuing to support the weight-loss industries. This is an extortion racket where each penny we pay to the reducing industry increases its power over us. Women’s power is stunted not only by competition to be slimmer than the next woman, but by hunger and by preoccupation with food. The ultimate anti-revolutionary message is that what feels good for us—-such as eating what we want-—is really bad for us.
The Fat Illusion, in all its levels, must be eliminated from women’s lives. There must be no support, and no condoning, of the reducing industries, since these industries degrade fat women. Every can of diet soda that you buy—-no matter how much you may “prefer the taste of it”-—hurts fat women, and by extension, all women. As women liberate knowledge about fat from the medical monopoly, fat women will come out of the closets of our minds to realize that there is nothing wrong with us. It is time to struggle with the implications of thin privilege and fat punishment the same as we struggle with other social injustices that we’ve recognized for years. We cannot wait for help and advice from doctors. Aside from the fact that few doctors will risk their careers to debunk a popular medical racket that is, after all, mainly a women’s issue, the truth in this case is just not good business.
Endnotes
A. M. Bryans, “Childhood obesity: Prelude to adult obesity,” Canadian Journal of Public Health (November 1967), p. 487.
U. S. Department of Health, Education and Welfare.Obesity and Health (Washington, DC: 1966), p. 60.
W. L. Asher, “Appetite suppressants as an aid in obesity control,” in Louis Lasagna, ed., Obesity: Causes, consequences and treatment (New York: Medcom, 1974), p.73.
Joseph A. Glennon, “Weight reduction: An enigma,” Archives of Internal Medicine (July 1966), vol. 118, pp. 1-2.
Gudrun Fonfa, “‘Looksism’ as Social Control,” Lesbian Tide (January I!175),
p. 20.
Alvan Feinstein, “How do we measure accomplishment in weight reduction:'” in Lasagna, ed., op. cit., p. 86.
Jean Mayer, Overweight: Causes, cost and control (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968).
Mayer, pp. 125-126.
Mayer, p. 165.
Fat Underground, “Health of fat women … the real problem,” 1974.
Aldebaran, “Fat liberation: A luxury?” State and Mind (June-July 1977), pp. 34-38.
Obesity and Health, p. 40.
Clark Stout, et al., “Unusually low incidence of death from myocardial infarction,” Journal of the American Medical Association (June 8, 1964), Vol. 188, pp. 845-849.
Jack Slater, “Hypertension: Biggest killer of blacks.” Ebony (June 1973).
“Current status of jejuno-ileal bypass for obesity,” Nutrition Reviews (1974), Vol. 32, p. 334.
From a telephone conversation with an office assistant of Dr. J. Howard Payne (an M.D. who pioneered the intestinal bypass surgery for obesity), August 6, 1975.
Many books have been written by feminist women on the subject of women and health. A good introductory bibliography (omitting, of course, information about fat women) is found in the Appendix of The hidden malpractice, by Gena Corea (New York: William Morrow, 1977). The specific book referred to in the text is Witches, Midwives and Nurses by Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English, published by The Feminist Press, Box 334, Old Westbury, NY 11568.
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DND Questionnaire
art by @kiikiibee
GENERAL
Name: Princess Loeva of the Vermillion Halidom
Alias(es): Baby Peony (by her mother), My Peacock Spider (by her boyfriend)
Gender: Female
Age: 15
Place of birth: Cinnabar in the Vermillion Halidom
Spoken languages: Yura, Prism, Savannah, Sol (Sorry Grandpa Phaedra wanted someone to learn Elder!!), Elder
Sexual orientation: Pansexual
Occupation: Princess, Cryptid Guardian, Ward
Class: Thaumaturge!
Ancestry: Savannah (Whisper) Elf
APPEARANCE
Eye color: Gold! She got her father's eyes, which indicate lineage from the royal family of Sol
Hair color: Pink, like her mom's!
Height: 5′8"
Scars: None!
Burns: None!
Overweight: Nope!
Underweight: Nope!
FAVOURITE
Color: Yellow and blue!
Hair color: No preference but she thinks rainbow hair would be neat!
Eye color: Seafoam green............
Music genre: ALL OF THEM
Entertainment: Looking for bugs, reading about scary monsters, playing her biha & lute, dancing
Pastime: Playing her instruments at the temple, taking care of the horses in the Agria stables
Food: Strawberry cakes, ramen, unagi onigiri, fesenjen
Drink: Strawberry milk, mango juice
Books: Anything folklore/myth related
HAVE THEY
Passed university: She definitely would not have if it existed.
Had sex: Nope
Had sex in public: Double nope
Kissed a man: Yes!
Kissed a woman: Yes!
Gotten tattoos: Nope
Gotten piercings: Her ears are pierced in a few place!
Had a broken heart: Yes!
Been in love: Yes!
Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Probably once on accident much to her mother's dismay
ARE THEY
A cuddler: Absolutely
A kisser: ALSO Absolutely (the other day in character she said "SMOOCHES POWER ME!")
A smoker: Nope!
Scared easily: The opposite! She gets scared of things she shouldn't be scared of.
Jealous easily: Absolutely not.
Trustworthy: Yes, though you need to be very clear if something's a secret otherwise she's not apt to get it.
Dominant: She's very blissfully assertive and bossy, but also easy to dissuade.
Submissive: Nope.
Single: Nope! She's being courted by Lord Tarquin of the Topaz House.
RANDOM QUESTIONS
Have they harmed themselves: On accident a few times.
Wanted to kill someone: I wouldn't say explicitly? But it's Pathfinder/D&D so fights happen and she works to stay alive and keep her friends/loved ones alive.
Actually killed someone: Yeah, people trying to kill her.
Ridden a horse: REGULARLY, SHE OWNS ONE, his name is BINDLETWIX THE BOLD.
Have/had a job: Does doing activities in the township she's a ward in so she gets paid an allowance for enriching herself count???
Have any fears: 1) Grammaw being mad or disappointed at her. 2) Biting into something and finding out it's rotten. 3) Encountering the Council of Snails and having Darwin sadly inform her that they and the horses have all agreed they hate her forever.
FAMILY
Sibling(s): Princess Solenne the Summoner of Eidolon Luxia-Kan the Bright Fox and Prince Faras the Royal Ranger, both older
Parents: Princess Tifenn the Summoner of Eidolon Qi'ka The Rise of Spring, and Prince Karim of Sol Nephew of the Sun King
Children: None!
Grandparents: Lady Vermillion and reigning Monarch of the Vermillion Halidom Fiona (aka Grammaw, the scary one), Prince Set of Sol Brother of the Sun King (Grandpa, the fun one), Princess Zara of Sol (Grandma, the nice one)
Aunts/Uncles: Auntie Princess Maëlys Heir to the Vermillion Throne and her husband Uncle Cyril de Leon the Future Red Warden. Uncle Prince Masuud of Sol and his wife Aunt Phoebe de Corvo. Uncle Qadir of Sol.
Cousins: Prince Cayden of the Amber Phalanx, his wife Lady Laurentia of the Diamond House, Prince Darwin of the Royal Rangers, Princess Linnea Heir to the Vermillion Throne, and Princess Pheadra her fellow Ward and chosen one despite her desires!! Cousin Prince Bast of Sol.
Pets: Familiar, technically: Prince Darwin Brach'an Edemomious of House Watercress (Prince Darwin for Short Don't Mind That's her Cousin's Name TOo), a giant land snail. She also has a horse, as noted, named Bindletwix the Bold.
Tag someone:
@kiikiibee YOU KNOW I'M TAGGING YOU, C'MOOOON PHAEDRA
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Title: Vi Moxt Miirik (Chapter Seven - Also on AO3)
Prompt: Wuv: Getting to Know Each Other
Pairing: Geralt & Jaskier
Rating: T
Warnings: None
Summary:
Our favorite lovable Bard is a little more than he let's Geralt know. Follow them through the years as he learns to let down his walls and show Geralt how beautiful he really is.
Chapter Seven
"Geralt! What am I going to do with you?" Jaskier's voice was melodic as he entered the little room Nenneke had let Geralt stay in while he healed. He was smiling, and had his lute and travel pack slung over his shoulders. Geralt grunted and slowly sat up, careful of his still-healing neck and shoulder.
"How did you even find me?" Geralt asked as Jaskier dropped his pack into the corner next to Geralt's things. The bard looked good. Healthy and vibrant in a light lilac ensemble that he looked good in. It suited him, somehow.
"A good friend of a friend in Temeria saw you heading toward Ellander. You told me the temple here would house you if needed." Jaskier said flippantly, and Geralt thought about that. It had been a throw away joke, actually.
Jaskier had asked him once what he would do if he got severely hurt during a hunt. Geralt responded with a bit of dark humor that the priestesses of Melitele in Ellander would give him proper last rites.
"Hm…" Geralt had nothing to say to that. He was caught off guard by Jaskier remembering such a little thing.
"Well, let me see." Jaskier was kneeling in front of Geralt now, off to the side of where his legs were swung over the edge of the bed. His hands were inches away from the bandages.
"You touch those, boy, I'll have your hands." A woman's voice from the doorway barked, making Jaskier jump. Geralt just smirked up at Nenneke. The older woman gave the bard an appraising once over and narrowed her eyes as she considered him. "I've finally got this stubborn mule to leave them be. Don't you dare undo all my hard work."
"Ah. Sorry, Mother Nenneke." Jaskier mumbled.
"And who might you be, then?" She asked as Jaskier stood, backing away quickly. He gave her a pleasant smile and a very large courtly bow.
"Jaskier the Bard, at your service, venerable Mother."
"So you're the one who's been singing those songs about Witchers the last couple years?" Nenneke said as she dropped the couple of books she'd been holding into Geralt's lap. She quickly fussed at the bandage ends, making sure they were still properly wrapped. "Didn't think you could take on such a vibrant travel companion, boy." She said to Geralt, poking him in the shoulder.
"I thought that Geralt deserved an image fix, what with all the nasty names people liked to give him. The White Wolf is so much better than… that." Jaskier huffed at the woman, slightly offended, but Geralt could see the gleam in Nenneke's eyes that meant she was teasing the boy.
"I have to agree there." She said, surprising Geralt with her earnesty. "You're that Pankratz boy Stefania talks about, aren't you?" Jaskier's jaw dropped at that, eyes wide in surprise and shock.
"You… I- Yes. Stefania is one of my aunts. How do you-?"
"She studied here as a girl, and she still visits from time to time." Nenneke cut off the rambled questions easily, and Jaskier could do nothing but nod. Geralt was surprised.
"I didn't realize." He answered, obviously out of his depth and floundering.
"You keep interesting friends, Geralt." She said softly to Geralt with a small smile and soft touch on his shoulder. Geralt just grunted.
"I'm leaving tomorrow, Nenneke. I'm healed enough to get back on the Path." Nenneke raised an eyebrow at him, skeptical.
"Can you even lift your sword yet, Geralt?" Jaskier cut in, frowning at him. "What about turning your head?" Geralt growled a little at him for that. He didn't realize the bard could read him that well. He had been trying to hide that fact from him.
"I'm going to go somewhere safe for the rest of the season. Heal until spring comes." He replied in a grumble.
"Going home so soon? Will Vesemir even be at the keep this early?" Nenneke asked, knowing exactly where he was planning on going. Geralt shrugged and immediately regretted it. He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hide the wince.
"You've told me the trail up the mountains is dangerous even for you on a good day." Jaskier was radiating concern now, hands fluttering about in a nervous tick that only Geralt seemed to notice. Nenneke raised a questioning eyebrow at that. She knew better. He'd only told the bard that so he wouldn't try to follow him home. "Why not come winter with me? Oxenfurt is an easy ride from here. I've more than enough space in my house, and I'd planned on teaching this semester anyway."
"You teach?" Geralt asked, a little blindsided by that. Jaskier crossed his arms at that, obviously upset.
"I've told you that before. I teach rhetoric some of the winter semesters." Geralt was surprised by that.
"I thought you'd teach music." Jaskier wrinkled his nose in distaste, which was probably more endearing than it had any right to be.
"Melitele's tears, no! I'd fling myself off the roof of the Chancellor's building if I had to teach music to students who didn't truly love it." Nenneke laughed just a little at that.
"Go with him, boy." Nenneke whispered quietly, giving Geralt a small sly smile. "It'd do you some good, being around people for a while."
It was that stern approval from Nenneke that swayed him. Geralt stayed one more night in the temple before they both set off toward Oxenfurt.
"Well?" Jaskier asked nervously as they approached his house. Ever since he had asked Geralt to accompany him home for the winter, he'd been a nervous wreck. Not that he regretted the offer, but he was worried that he had effectively trapped the Witcher in his presence for months on end. After all, Geralt couldn't just run off in the middle of the night once winter had settled in. "What do you think? Three words or less."
"There's a stable." He grumbled out and Jaskier just laughed at his response. Indeed, that was the reason he had chosen to move to this house almost four years ago after meeting Geralt the first time. It was small and set about as far away from the university you could get and not be in the water.
"You'll have to make sure it's in good repair for Roach before we go get her." He said just as they were getting to the door. Letting himself and Geralt inside, he stood back to watch Geralt's face as he took in the house. It was probably nothing like what Geralt was expecting; he just hoped he would be okay living here until Spring. "And I'll need your help getting the spare bedroom set up the way you want it."
"Hm." Geralt grunted as he awkwardly set his bag and swords down in one of the vacant chairs. Jaskier sat his bag down in his favorite chair, the one at his desk in front of the window, before heading into the spare bedroom. It was little more than storage at this point, but there was an extra bed frame here already, propped up out of the way against the wall.
"Oh. We'll need to grab a mattress as well, when we pick up supplies." Jaskier started rambling when he heard Geralt following after him. "How about we head out to dinner after you check out the stables, and we can stop by the market on the way back from getting Roach. We can rent a cart."
"Hm." Geralt just hummed back, but Jaskier could hear the acceptance in it. Jaskier smiled back at his Witcher.
He felt his heart flutter in his chest as Geralt stepped in close to him before he carefully picked up one of the crates of books and stacked it neatly into the corner.
"We can just stack this up out of the way. Don't want to impose any more."
"Nonsense!" Jaskier huffed at him, crossing his arms and scowling. "I invited you, Witcher. You are not an imposition on me, and I want you to be comfortable here!" Geralt ducked his head a little and reached to pick up another box, but Jaskier was watching him now. He saw the little twitch in his face and arm that meant he'd over-reached. "Nope! None of that!" Jaskier flapped his hands at Geralt until he moved away from the box, amusement hiding in the corners of his eyes. "You are to rest, stubborn man. And that means I can move these boxes all on my own." Jaskier waved at the room thematically. "You go check on the stables and make sure Roach will be okay out there when we go get her." He poked Geralt in the chest, but he saw the slight smile tugging at his lips.
Jaskier wanted to kiss them.
"Fine." Geralt relented and turned away.
Oh, Jaskier knew his traitorous heart too well by now. He was falling for his broody Witcher.
#what about the bard#wuv the bard#jaskier#geralt of rivia#geraskier#getting to know each other#wintering at Oxenfurt#non human!jaskier#my fanfic
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Headcanon nonsense
My random canons for the Stories folk:
Lute: Definitely names all his monsties. He absolutely loves monsters, so he 100% spends time studying the monsterpedia with Lilia. Slightly illiterate, I like to think he has trouble with writing. Reverto isn't very helpful when it comes to teaching him how to write.
Cheval: Really self conscious and apologetic. He did community service after the events of the blight, and ended up asking to be trained by hunters. (Someone mentioned how Rathi is kinda his mom, and I love it) Thinks Reverto's bad handing writing is only a joke.
Lilia: FRECKLES. She tried to teach Lute how to write, but he's more interested in the monsterpedia. Lilia writes in a journal about the events of Stories, and eventually makes a book about it. Spoils ratha with treats, lies about it. Does NOT actually become mean. That isn't Lilia in stories 2 it just isn't. She cannot read Reverto's hand writing.
Reverto: Very soft, enjoys hugs. Most definitely the type to pretend he's fine when he isn't. Thick headed and reckless, but gets away with it because he is very strong. Universal father figure. Terrible, god-awful hand writing.
Simone: She likes to eat fresh fruit, strawberries are her favourite. She doesn't like physical affection, but is a very supportive friend. She like women, and is the universal wine aunt / mom. The only person who can read Reverto's hand writing.
Navirou: Puntable. And always will be.
#monster hunter ride on#monster hunter stories#head canon#op headcanons#reverto#please reverto no one can read your writing
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I keep the book of faces for two reasons.
So my family can see pictures of Little Man.
And
Drama
My sister just lit into my great aunt over abortion and I'm trying not to cackle at work. Will this make the next time she's here tense? Probably. Is it worth it to see my sister finally get 20 years of rage off her chest? Abso-fucking-lutely.
#for context#my great aunt has always nitpicked at my sister#from her weight to her education to anything you can think of#so to see my sister finally say something back?#i love it#im here for it#i cant wait to see how this plays out
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Johan Faust chapter 2
As Johan whas 16 :Norm Night of Johan run of
Johan run/fly of in the city again too make he’s stuff not too tell it’s night
Johan walk araund as he see a street party not too tell he party there and then did try someone to hit him there he is a devil but….
Year fuc€ it Johan body is too strong this the hit brings nothing and the guy get’s a hit from Johan in the face and hit him k.o
Heinrich: oh shi€ Papa going too kill my…..na if I’m domet……fuc€ this shi€“ say he and kick the guy again and run away
—
As then Johan is going away and go in a book schop
Woman: oh you again my sweet child what do you want today too buying
Johan : hello miss I want some books abaut Pflanz and relics
Woman: of curse „smile
—
After this fly Johan too a dungeon
Johan: oh what a interesting plase let’s look if I get some stuff and money „say he and begin too luting the dungeon
As he is done see he some out of the golden dawn and clause ore so
Claus: you again!!!
Johan:oh shi€! See ya !!!! „Say he and fly of bevor they get him and bring him too his papa ore Onkel asta and aunt Noelle
Clause: children this day’s Sir Faust need too control he’s child really better
——-
Then hite Johan he’s stuff in case it’s getting take away from someone
And then he try too fly in he’s room wo sit he’s Papa waiting
Heinrich: wo whas your again young man?“smile of dum
Johan(oh shi€)
Johan:walk araund „lie looks away
Heinrich:Tell everything Young Mann
Johan:……
Johan: fuc€ someone „Panik lie
Heinrich:?!
Heinrich: JOHAN!!!
Johan: I swear it’s not this bad!!!
Heinrich: we talk leater
He go out Johan room but Johan hear him
Heinrich: Ida stop corrupting Johan!!!!
Ida: what the hell fuc€ of I did Nothing whit him I have one brut too take care!!!!
Johan:…….at least I have nice books and I can read befor the big storm come too my“lay in he’s bed
And the storm came and Johan whas dumet too clean the wole base four a Weck
#johan faust#Johan#Heinrich#heinrich faust#clause#ida#ida Faust#black clover oc#oc#oc’s#funny#Crack#black clover funny#Family#Teen#teen devil#family drama#minor cursing
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You have one week left to support Aunt Lute Books.
Please consider donating even a few dollars to our 40th anniversary fundraiser, or share our fundraiser with others. Head over to the link in bio to donate now.
https://www.mightycause.com/story/Zbwo0g
[ID: stack of books with numbers on side, arrow points above $1,000 and reads $3,941. Text says “One week left.”]
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OC group shot
I usually only ever draw like... 2 of my oc’s, but I actually have quite a few, so I decided to draw them on a page together. They’re all from the same universe. Some of these characters I have never posted about, and some I’ve never colored before, so figuring that out was interesting.
I posted their names and a little bit about my oc’s under the cut
Bay and Ali
The protagonists for the story I have in my head. They’re friends and have a sibling-esque relationship
Bay’s got an upbeat personality and wears his emotions on his sleeves. He’s a mechanic and inventor and wants to be famous off of his inventions.
Ali can be quick to anger and get into fights, but she’s been softening up ever since she met Bay who ends up becoming her first friend. She also enjoys reading a good book with a cup of tea
Ali can also use magic and her abilities include; she’s stronger than the average person, she can sprout wings which gives her the ability to fly, and she can heal people (but she’s bad at it)
Annie and Alder
Bay’s parents. Annie’s usually very upbeat and energetic, but also very emotional. Has lost loved ones in the past but stays positive despite that.
Alder, the emotional rock of the family. He’s got a calming demeanor, and enjoys cooking and gardening
Gale or Damien (haven’t settled on his name yet, though I’m leaning towards Gale)
He’s Ali’s father (who’s whereabouts are unknown). A charmer, an adventurous outdoorsman, and can tell a really good story.
Mixie’s mom, and Mixie
Mixie’s mom (don’t have a name for her, also the last time i drew her was like in 2016) she and Annie are friends from school and Bay will call her Aunt. She has 6 pups all a different color of the rainbow.
Mixie one of said pups. She’s about elementary school age, sometimes Bay will babysit her and her siblings. Usually pretty cutesy but can turn easily turn mean quite quickly.
Quinn and Jamie
They are schoolmates and friends
Quinn’s based off a marten, she does a lot of scheming and keeps notes of dirt she finds out about other people
Jamie, Bay’s boyfriend (or friends depending on wheneabouts in the story we are). Jamie’s very musical, he likes to dance, and enjoys playing the piano and singing. He’s also very judgmental
Arya and Lute
Jamie’s younger sisters. They’re a musical family, Arya can play the harp and Lute plays the clarinet
Arya the middle child, she’s sweet, but can get really shy around strangers
Lute, the youngest child. Would rather eat junk food all day, likes to play sports and bothering her brother Jamie
#art#digital art#oc#bay#ali#annie#alder#gale#mixie's mom#mixie#quinn#jamie#arya#lute#TAAB#the adventures of ali and bay
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1335
Richard and Beth really embrace their new life with the kids this year. Beth keeps up with her stitching and even sells some of her work at the market on sundays. Richard spends a s much time as he can with the children.
But sadly, Stefan and Ronan deal with another tragedy. After Maria moves in for a while to help raising them, Camilla can't deal with her grief anymore. She spends more time in bed than with her children or the farm and one day Maria finds her unresponsive. She doesn't find a vial but she strongly suspects, that Camilla ended her life with poison. Stefan and Ronan are devastated. After the burial they pack their few belongings and Maria takes them to her own small house where she and Cassia care for them.
The small homestead gets crowded with two more children and Alton gets overwhelmed qickly so he tries to escape the house by worling the small farm or playing his lute in the attic. It's the only thing his aunt left before she moved to Bergen a few years ago. Even though they didn't get along all the time he still remembers her fondly whenever he picks up his instrument.
But sadly all of these recent losses take their toll on Marias health. After a short illness she dies in her sleep at the age of 49 and is buried with her loved ones on their small property.
Over in Bergen, Sven's wedding is rushed because his father is supposed to visit some of the villages on the coastline shortly and he wants to see his son and heir married before he travels. Sven meets his wife on the day they are to be wed. Her name is Nora and she's a sweet and shy girl who just turned of age. But his mind is still on Sabrina.
She notices his reservations and he tells her his reasons. "I'm not ready for this. I'm sorry to put this burden on you." Nora is sad about his story and confides in him, too. She feels scared and too young for marriage, but she wants to honour her father's wishes.
After a few months during his fathers absence Sven gets overwhelmed by all the duties he has to fulfill. He longs for the simple and happy life he's had. Nora finds him one day out in the summer rain. "I need to see my wife... I can't think straight in this house."
Nora is taken aback by this comment, she knows in her heart that he's not talking about her. She tries to reason with him. "I think you need a small break from all of this, can we perhaps go somewhere you fell more comfortable for a few days?" Sven is thankful for her understanding and they travel to his small cottage where they spend a few days on their own.
During this time Nora gives him much comfort. It's hard for him to stand over Sabrinas grave again and sleep in their home but Nora supports him. They talk a lot, she cooks for him and they get closer. One of those nights they consummate their marriage for the first time.
Later that year, there's finally good news for the Atwood family again. Beth and Richard are expecting again!
And one night while playing his Lute at a local Tavern, Alton meets someone who catches his eye. Annabelle has been in his audience for the last few nights and after his performace she tries to get his attention. They end up talking most of the night.
Alton is head over heels. She is the daughter of a local merchant she loves his music. One day she dreams of writing books for a living. "I finally think I found someone who understands me." he tells her that night and she feels the same.
(this year was soooooo full of events, I hope I did justice to all those different storylines .... and I really hope you like the way I dealt with Svens situation. Just fyi, I now lost two of my founders, only Adrian is still alive.)
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FFXIVwrite 17: Novel
Ao3 link if you’d like
It was a given that one day, stories would be written of the Warrior of Light. Whether it be prose, poetry, sonnets or ballads, someone would capture the tales shared by the Scions on paper. It was a fate T’ahria had prayed would be far into the future, when she had only a few years left to learn of how she would be remembered. Perhaps that way she may go to the grave in peace.
She did not expect for such novelizations to come out so soon.
She wasn’t one for reading, had resisted her aunts’ every attempt to get her to pick up a book willingly. As an adult she was a bit more pliable, so long as the novel was a work of fiction and held her interest. Or about Nym, as she would skim those books for whatever information she could find on scholars and fairies, Eos sat on her shoulder. This is all to say that it was odd to find her looking at the literature stall in Revenant's Toll, fingers trailing spines as she looked over the titles.
It was there she encountered them first, an inconsequential cover decorated with blue roses. ‘T’alia Lightbringer’ was embellished in silver on the front, in an overly fancy cursive font. It caught her attention long enough that she read the blurb on the back -before handing the required gil over to the merchant, and all but running to the Rising Stones, purchase in hand.
She now stood beside the bar, slouched over with her head pressed against the cool wood. Above her, Wren sat casually, reading the story aloud.
“May she be blessed by the elementals” the Seedseer cried, staff held aloft. A cascade of magicked leaves billowed from the tip, scattering and falling amongst the crowd. Children cheered as they reached to catch the fluttering leaves, which transformed into butterflies in their palms - did that really happen at Greenbliss?”
“No” She mumbled, voice muffled. “I got trapped in the Echo to the point of passing out”
“Oh goodness” He paused in his reading, leaning over to gently pat her head. She hummed in response, though he couldn’t tell if it was a good hum or bad hum. “But other than that it’s pretty accurate?”
“It’s everything thing I did and went to, up until after defeating Ifrit”
“So someone’s written a biography of your life” Wren flipped through the book once more, skimming pages until he found something of note. “Only missing out some key information and with some slight changes… such as you have ears. Wait, do you have a brother?”
“No? Why, does ‘T’alia’ have one?”
“T’rahto Tia took after their father more, tall and lean, with shorter fangs and a bushy tail. Though, like T’alia herself, he inherited their mother’s blue eyes and rounded pupils”
“I don’t know who that’s supposed to be”
“He supposedly comes to your aid during your foray in Sastasha -oh gods is this supposed to be me?!”
“Who’s supposed to be you?”
Both T’ahria and Wren glanced up to find Beryl sauntering over, lute slung over her shoulders. She plucked the book from Wren’s grip, closing it to view the cover -before chuckling.
“I see you’ve found it”
“”Found it?” Wren asked, as T’ahria suddenly perked up. “You knew about this?”
“Knew about it? I wrote it!” Beryl chuckled harder, full on cackling now. She held the novel up, tapping the short bit of text on the bottom. ‘By B.L.Ironwood’ was printed in the same silver font as the title.
“You used my surname?!”
“What does the L stand for?”
“Lyandra. Thought a good middle name made the alias sound fancier. And, yes Wren, I used your surname” Beryl hopped up on top of the bar, leaning back to grab a bottle and cup. She took a glug of water as her friends gaped at her.
“We all knew someone would start writing about the Warrior of Light, slayer of primals, stealer of pants. I just thought, why don’t I be one of the first and line the Scions’ coffers while I do it? Tataru even helped me find a printer” She patted T’ahria’s head. “Besides, with the amount of sales it has, people have T’alia in their head when they think of the Warrior. I thought it’d let give you a shield from the limelight”
T’ahria stayed silent, just absorbing the information. It was a good way to stay out of the public eye.
“Beryl. How many books have you written?” Wren asked, hesitant about whether he actually wanted to know the answer.
“Oh, this is just volume one” Beryl handed him back to the novel. “I’m on the seventh right now”
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Today is the kick-off of a the Bay Area book tour for Keep A'Livin' written by Kathya Alexander (published by Aunt Lute).
Stops are today at the #SanFranciscoPublicLibrary in downtown #SanFrancisco and Thursday at Chapter510 in downtown #Oakland. Kathya will be in conversation with fantasy writer Duane Horton for both events!!
Details here: https://sistahscifi.com/pages/events!
Learn more about Keep A'Livin' : https://sistahscifi.com/products/keep-a-livin
#library #SistahScifi #SistahScifiSeries #AuntLuteBooks #KeepALivin #KathyaAlexander #Chapter510 #bayarea #oakland #authorsoftiktok
@chapter510 @auntlute @sanfranciscopubliclibrary
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