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historicity-was-already-taken · 5 months

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I am posting and responding to this ask anonymously as I don't want anyone harassing its sender. This has already been communicated with the person who sent the ask.

I just want to thank you for being a light in the darkness of anti-semitism, especially on this website. I have found I am on this site a lot less ever since it was made clear that other leftists here are more anti-semitic than we ever knew possible, using very specific wording of our own trauma against us (i.e. saying stuff like "colonialism", "genocide/ethnic cleansing", and calling JEWISH PEOPLE Nazis). It feels like, at best, they know Hamas ≠ All or even most Palestinians, but think that they think all JEWS = Bibi; and at worst, agree with Hamas and think of him as some sort of "freedom fighter". So, thank you from one leftist Jew to another, just trying to keep afloat here. ❤️

You are very welcome; it's certainly been overwhelming, and I'm glad this can be a safe space for you.

I do want to push back on some of this ask, though. Specifically in regard to terms such as "colonialism," "apartheid," "genocide," and "ethnic cleansing."

The use of these terms is not inherently anti-Semitic. For a lot of people, these terms are the best ones they have access to describe what they are seeing. I do think such terms as “colonialism” and “apartheid” are overly simple in regard to the last ~3000 years of Jewish history, and that they cast the situation into an alien historical context which dilutes and uncomplicates the all the historical realities at stake, but I truly do not think that all who use these terms do so to cause Jewish people pain.

Further complicating the picture is that terms like "colonialism" aren’t completely wrong. Modern Zionism arose in the context of mid-nineteenth century European large-scale movements towards nationalism (ie, the creation of nation-states) and away from the multi-national empire. Jews—a subject of anti-Semitism and fifth columnist suspicions within those emergent European nations—reacted to all this by joining the nationalism game.

What’s ironic, is that those European Jews who founded contemporary Zionism were reacting to the exclusion and racial hatred with which Gentile Europeans treated them, and then once they had some settlements in Palestine, they deployed similar variants of racial hatred at both the Palestinian Arab population, and Middle Eastern Jewry.

The existence of a distinct people and ethnic group in Palestine before the aliyot were not something the first generation of Zionists were concerned with. Because they were part of the same shitty, white supremacist, pro-imperialistic intellectual European tradition to which they were responding as victimized parties. As time went on and Zionist thought spread across Ashkenazic communities, we can see some variants. Some forms of far-left Zionism in twentieth century Poland, for example, actively built the presence and rights of Palestinian Arabs into their ideology, some of them actively stating that Zionism could not be a success if it necessitated transforming Palestinian Arabs into a group of secondhand citizens and a cheap source of labor in their own home.

Those leftist strands of Zionism tended to be Socialist/Communist in nature, and centered around the idea of life in Eretz Yisrael as one of a series of self-sufficient communes. Thus when the 1930s hit and things start to go bad, the Zionists we see fleeing to Palestine tended to be of the more centrist and far right variants. The left wing, socialist movements, already operating as a collective, had a membership uncomfortable with fleeing to safety while the rest remained behind.

And that same socialist/communal attitude, is why those variants of Zionist thought never made it into the Israeli political mainstream; most of their members and proponents were murdered in the Holocaust in part because they refused to leave their comrades behind. The General Zionists and Zionist Revisionists who rode out the years of the Holocaust in Palestine therefore already had access to the avenues of power which would become important in 1948, when the British Empire shrugged off its responsibilities towards the regions it colonized and destabilized.

Now, as for ethnic cleansing. I can’t sugar-coat this: that’s what the Naqba was. It was ethnic cleansing of Palestinian Arabs from their homes to make way for the Jewish State. The manipulative shit (but still somehow extremely prestigious) youth group I was in taught us that Arabs call it Naqba because they hate Jews and therefore existence of Jews in the Southern Levant was a tragedy, as was the fact that Hitler didn't finish the job.

That’s garbage: it’s called the Naqba because it was ethnic cleansing. And that's not the fault of the Holocaust survivors who made their way to Mandatory Palestine/Israel in the late 1940s--they lacked political power, and were often looked down upon by those who did; the Holocaust as part of Israeli National Mythology wasn't an immediate Thing.

If you spent your formative years around older Jewish folks of A Certain Generation, whose trauma has pretty much placed a permanent block on their ability to see some of what went down in 1948 for what it was, I can’t blame you for having that gut/cognitive dissonance reaction to the use of “ethnic cleansing” in the context of Israel and Palestine. I know those older folks. I loved them. They’re mostly gone now, and I miss them terribly. But their trauma-induced view of everything lives on in the ability of some younger Jews to properly name and understand what it is that happened in 1948.

It was ethnic cleansing.

Further, not only were Palestinian Arabs ethnically cleansed, but the Middle Eastern and North African (MENA) Jews who were forced by their governments to flee their homes of thousands of years and seek refuge in Israel throughout the second half of the twentieth century…the Western and Central European Jews in control of Israel and its institutions treated them like shit too. Hadassah actively stole the babies of Yemeni Jews, told the parents that their children were dead, and rehomed them to Ashkenazic couples. There were death certificates. Members of the Ethiopian Jewish community were forcibly sterilized, and their ongoing treatment by the State is racist and generally atrocious. And this analysis of the relationship between the Israel State, MENA Jewish populations, and different Ashkenazic groups in Israel is horribly short and overly simple.

As for genocide. I honestly don’t know. I do know many people, who are very much not Anti-Semites, who are calling what’s happening in Gaza right now genocide; many of these people are also Jewish. I know many others who refer to the experiences of Palestinians between 1948 and now as a slow genocide. Many of these people are also actively not anti-Semites, and many of them are Jewish.

So these terms, as uncomfortable as they may feel for people within the very specific Jewish generational background I believe we share, are not deployed as anti-Semitic weapons. Nazi comparisons? Yes. Swastikas superimposed over the Star of David? Yes. Very specific hook-nosed Jewish caricatures in relation to Israelis? Yes. Blood libel shit? Yes. These are all anti-Semitic, and are deployed to hurt and retraumatize Jewish people. But the rest are not nearly that simple.

And I didn’t learn this from like, Bad Evil Post-Modern Academics at Columbia University Who Hate Jews; I learned this from doing graduate-level work in the field of Modern Jewish History, and working in Jewish archives; this did not come from outside the building.

Now, as for Hamas as freedom fighters…that’s ignorant at best. Hamas’ charter clearly calls for the global destruction of the Jewish people [ETA: they edited this part out in 2017 for PR purposes], and their actions as rulers are horrifically, violently, homophobic, and seem to be more abut provoking Israel than they are about governing and protecting their people. But as you said, Hamas isn’t all Palestinians, and it’s also not all Palestinians who consider themselves freedom fighters. (A second reader of mine had the following commentary on this paragraph: "Might need a bit more complication around Hamas? I know that's not your area of expertise but it's worth mentioning that they were basically set up to undermine the PLO and what would become the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank. You're right that they aren't representative of all Palestinian thought and resistance, and that they are on some fuck shit.")

So while I’m so glad that blog is a comfort to you, I encourage you to also take a step into some of your discomfort, and ask yourself where it comes from.

No one reading this post has my consent to use it to silence other Jewish people who are in different stages of their journey towards understanding how generational trauma has impacted their ability to grasp all of this. Further, if you choose to attack me for gently calling my people in, you're a piece of shit and I will be mean to you.

#jewish history #israeli history #palestinian history #history of zionism

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nellasbookplanet · 5 months

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Book recs: alien intelligences

Intelligent spiders, octupi, plants, bacteria, and even entire oceans, intelligence without sentience, extra terrestrials and strange intelligences evolved right here on Earth - alien minds can take many forms. Allow me to share with you some books featuring the most alien and fascinating ones.

Previous book rec posts:

Really cool fantasy worldbuilding, really cool sci-fi worldbuilding, dark sapphic romances, mermaid books, vampire books, many worlds: portal fantasies, many worlds: alternate timelines, robots and artificial intelligences, post- and transhumanism

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

The Doors of Eden by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

The Doors of Eden is something of an experiment in speculative biology, featuring versions of Earth in which various different species were the one to rise to sentience, from dinosaurs to neanderthals. Now, something is threatening the existence of all timelines, dragging multiple different people and species into the struggle, among those a pair of cryptid hunting girlfriends and a transgender scientist.

Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

Millenia and generation spanning scifi. After the collapse of an empire, a planet once part of a project to uplift other species to sentience is left to develop on its own, resulting not in the intelligent monkeys once intended but in sentient giant spiders. Millenia later, what remains of humanity arrives looking for a new home, only to be met by the artificial remains of the ancient woman who once led the uplift project - and she is not willing to let them on her planet.

Semiosis (Semiosis duology) by Sue Burke

A generational story following a group of humans trying to survive on a new planet, where a strange and unkowable intelligence is finding ways to use them to its whims. As the humans come across an abandoned city wrapped in the roots of a strange plant, they slowly come to the realization that mutual communication is the only path to peace and survival.

The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu

While I felt the characters could’ve been better developed, this is undeniably a well-written novel featuring an alien race and culture developed on a planet vastly different from ours. Firmly in the realm of hard scifi, this is a realistic, fascinating and slightly terrifying look at how first contact may look.

Brain Plague (The Elysium Cycle) by Joan Sloncewski*

Chrys, a struggling artist, agrees to become a carrier for a sentient strain of microbes. With their help, Chrys breathes new life into her career. But every microbe society is different - some function as friends and brain enhancers to their carrier, while others become a literal brain plague, a living addiction taking over the life of their carrier. And like every society, the microbe community is in constant flux - inluding the one inside Chrys's head.

Rosewater (The Wormwood trilogy) by Tade Thompson

In Nigeria lies Rosewater, a city bordering on a strange, alien biodome. Its motives are unknown, but it’s having an undeniable effect on the surrounding life. Kaaro, former criminal and current psychic agent for the government, is one of the people changed by it. When other psychics like him begin getting killed, Kaaro must take it upon himself to find out the truth about the biodome and its intentions.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on.

Blindsight by Peter Watts*

Vampires and aliens and questions of the nature of consciousnesses, oh my. A ship is sent to investigate the sudden appearance of an alien vessel at the edge of the solar system, but the crew, a group of various level of transhumanism, isn’t prepared for the horrors awaiting them. No, seriously, this book will fuck you up, highly recommend if you’re okay with a lot of techno babble and existential horror.

Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson*

Utterly unique in world-building, story, and prose, Midnight Robber follows young Tan-Tan and her father, inhabitants of the Carribean-colonized planet of Toussaint. When her father commits a terrible crime, he’s exiled to a parallel version of the same planet, home to strange aliens and other human exiles. Tan-Tan, not wanting to lose her father, follows with him. Trapped on this new planet, he becomes her worst nightmare. Enter this book with caution, as it contains graphic child sexual abuse.

Fragment (Fragment duology) by Warren Fahy*

The reality TV show Sealife is having a rough time - as it turns out, a ship full of scientist doesn’t make for the kind of drama they hoped for. Hoping for some excitement, they reach Hender's Island, a fragment of a lost continent that may contain an interesting new ecosystem. But as they step foot on the island, they quickly come to realize the ecosystem isn’t just new, it’s highly dangerous and very hungry. Among all this life is one single species that may be more dangerous than any other, but which may also be the salvation of the scientists on the island. A bit wonky, but genuinely one of the most fun books I have read, I love it so much.

Axiom's End (Noumena trilogy) by Lindsay Ellis

It’s 2007, and a leak has just confirmed that the US has reached alien contact. Cora wants nothing to do with it, but as her absent father is the whistleblower who dropped the news the media won’t leave her alone. Even worse, she soon finds herself meeting and being pursued by the alien presence itself as it tries to remain in hiding - and discovering that there is a much larger threat on the horizon.

The Road to Roswell by Connie Willis*

Francie has just traveled to Roswell to attend her college friend's wedding to a UFO conspirasist. Not a believer herself, Francie is shocked when she finds herself abducted by an alien. Her abductor is not much what popular media would have you believe, looking more like a tumbleweed than a grey alien, and is clearly on some kind of mission it isn’t willing to put on hold for the sake of Francie attending to her duties as a bridesmaid. As more people get roped along - among those a conman, an old lady, a ufo conspirasist, and a retiree with an RV - Francie finds herself getting closer to the alien and wanting to help it succeed.

Bonus rec: if you like this book, you may also enjoy the movie Paul, which has a similarly humorous tone and similar plot.

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir*

Ryland Grace just woke up up from a coma, unable to remember anything. He finds himself alone on a space ship, and as his memories slowly trickle back, he realizes he's been sent on a mission: to find a solution to the impending doom of the earth. Still struggling with holes in his memories, Ryland tries to fulfill his mission, but as he gets closer to his goal, he discovers someone else got there first. And they aren't anything close to human. Funny, heartfelt, and heavy on the science.

Survival by Julie E. Czerneda

Mac, a biologist studying salmon on Earth, has little interest in life beyond her own planet. Despite this, she’s sought out by Brymn, an alien archaeologist hoping her expertise as a biologist can help him solve the secret behind the Chasm, a region of space completely devoid of life. Trying as she might not to get incolved, Mac has little choice as she and her colleagues come under attack by the mysterious Ro, the species Brymn's people suspect to be the cause of the Chasm.

Translation State by Ann Leckie*

An exploration of the alien as filtered through the human. At what point does the human become something else? When does something else become human? Is it a question of biology or culture, nature or nurture? Can we choose it? Can it be forced upon us? Set in the Imperial Radch universe, Translation State follows three different characters embroiled in the question of what makes a human. The alien Presger can only communicate with humans using their translators - people they’ve created that are not quite human and not quite alien. But as news of a translator fugitive arises, conflict brews regarding what right they have to choose their own identity and home.

Exo (Exo duology) by Fonda Lee*

Young adult. Earth has long since been under the control of an alien presence. Donovan Reyes is an exo, a human enhanced with alien technology, working to keep the colony and its people safe. The biggest enemy is Sapience, a terrorist organisation opposing alien rule by any means necessary. When a mission goes awry, Donovan finds himself abducted by Sapiance, something that risks a war. While it took until the second book for me to be fully sold on this series, it features a genuinely nuanced take on oppression and resistance rarely seen in YA genre.

Needle by Hal Clement

1950s classic. A small island in the pacific ocean and a fourteen-year-old boy have just become the center of an interstellar chase between an alien Hunter and the criminal he's pursuing. Robert is a regular boy, but he has a very special passenger: an alien symbiont hiding inside his body. The alien became stranded on Earth as he pursued a criminal of his own species, and now they are both trapped on the same island, playing a game of cat and mouse as Robert and the Hunter struggle to find their prey before it finds them.

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers series) by Becky Chambers

Rosemary Harper just got a job on the motley crew of the Wayfarer, a spaceship that works with tunneling new wormholes through space. With a past she wants to leave behind, Rosemary is happy to travel the far reaches of the universe with the chaotic crew, but when they land the job of a life time, things suddenly get a lot more dangerous. A bit of a tumblr classic in its day, this is a cozy space opera with an episodic feel and vividly realized characters and cultures.

Under the Skin by Michel Faber

A dark allegory of alienation and dehumanization, Under the Skin follows Isserley, a woman traveling along the roads of England and picking up hitchhikers. Little does her passengers know, she’s an alien hiding her true self, and they are her prey and a delicacy for her species.

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

1960s Polish classic. Arriving on a station orbiting the planet Solaris, Kris Kelvin is meant to study the strange, possibly sentient ocean that covers its entire surface. But the effects of the ocean are far reaching - Kelvin finds the crew of the station secretive and unstable, and is shocked to wake one day to the embodiement of a long dead lover. Was it created by the brain-like ocean, and if so, why?

West of Eden (West of Eden trilogy) by Harry Harrison

65 million years ago, the meteor that killed the dinosaurs never arrived. Without it, the dinosaurs lived and thrived, allowing a the complex society of the matriarchal Yilanè to arise. Meanwhile, in the new world, humans still evolve, and when an impending ice age forces the Yilanè across the ocean in search for a new home, the two are destined to clash. A bleak story of the cycle of violence and hate leading to war, West of Eden is a marvel of world-building.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

Triptych by J.M. Frey

Kalp is a widower and alien refugee newly arrived on Earth; Gwen is a language expert secretly recruited by the United Nations to help integrate a ship of alien refugees; Basil is an engineer who loves them both. Together they must defend their relationship against a violently intolerant world.

The Sparrow (The Sparrow duology) by Mary Doria Russell

When proof of alien life is found, the United Nations are too slow in their plans for a first contact mission. Instead, the Society of Jesus overtake them and send their own ship, but the crew could never have been prepared for what they will find.

Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor

Something massive and alien crashes into the ocean off the coast of Nigeria. Three people, a marine biologist, a rapper, and a soldier, find themselves encountering this presence, and have to race to save humanity before it's too late.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: Salvaged by Madeleine Roux, Exodus by Nicky Drayden, The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull, Embassytown by China Miéville

#nella talks books #the doors of eden #children of time #semiosis #the three-body problem #brain plague #rosewater #xenogenesis #blindsight #midnight robber #fragment #axioms end #the road to roswell #project hail mary #species imperative #translation state #exo #needle #the long way to a small angry planet #under the skin #solaris #west of eden #there are more alien centric books that I love #but this list is pretty focused on books where the truly alien unkowable and inhuman is central #so anything featuring human looking or acting aliens got disqualified #same as books where the aliens themselves weren’t very central #also i need you all to know that i have had official art of the 'alien' from Fragment as my screensaver for a decade #that book is so silly goofy dialogue and absolute gory slaughter i love it so much #i still have one of these rec posts in my drafts but! will soon post a new poll in preparation for more

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buckets-and-trees · 3 months

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The Only Way of Knowing You [Nick Fowler x Reader]

Title: The Only Way of Knowing You Characters/Pairings: leshy!Nick Fowler x curvy female!Reader Word Count: 7.8k

Summary: When you visit a cabin, you're drawn more and more to the forest, the flora and fauna, and a handsome stranger you cross paths with in the woods.

Content Warnings: explicit smut - nipple play, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, initial consent to questionable/dubious consent ending, kidnapping, intimidation, implied stalking and explicit stalking, human to monster transformation, monster fucking

Logistical Notes: Very belated, but this is my addition to the Enchanted Birthday Fest and my humble gift to all of you who come around and read what I write. Incorporating Mania (obsessive love - stalking) for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love challenge. Thank you @goldylions and @sgt-seabass for blasting this with your beta energy. It certainly benefitted from your poking, prodding, and polishing.

Narrative Notes: There's a lot of leshy lore that's evolved over time since differing versions existed across Europe and you've got modern media takes. I took pieces that stuck out to me as I combed through. The most significant trait I adopted was that a leshy king could shape shift into human or animal and would adopt disguise to hide, adapt, or even lure people into the forest.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You gasped and stopped on the trail.

“A dog,” you whispered to no one but yourself, a grin splitting across your face.

The wilderness of the forest around you rose into a small, banked ridge on the left. You had only just heard the rustle of leaves that drew your attention over to that side to see the creature. You couldn’t tell the breed for sure – all dark fur, pointed ears, looking something between a husky and a wolf – but with him being so calm and willing to come this close to the path when he’d undoubtedly heard you walking, you assumed he couldn’t be too wild or feral. He had piercing blue eyes that locked with yours.

You were so tempted to try to call him over, but if he was wild, it was probably better not to, and if he belonged to someone, you didn’t want to lead him away from where he needed to go.

So, after another beat, you continued along your path.

After the four hour drive to your destination with some of the team from your office, as soon as you had unloaded and eaten lunch, you had been eager to get away to stretch your legs and to have some time away from everyone else, and you had some time before the rest of the team arrived for the work retreat your boss had put together. You had six days of training, strategizing, and team bonding ahead of you with a professional consultant and facilitator flown in who had built the agenda. There were breaks built throughout the day, and as you set off for this first walk, you imagined both the physical movement and the time away from the group would help keep you focused, energized, and from actually strangling your co-worker Rachel who regularly burst into song during casual conversation.

You saw the dog again as you took the same path the next day when your group took a mid-morning break. This time, he walked alongside your path, keeping his distance off to the side, but only kept pace with you for about five minutes before wandering off.

You were hopeful to see him when you headed out in the afternoon.

But instead of the dog, you encountered a man in almost the same area, approaching you on the path.

The man was dressed in sturdy hiking boots, dark jeans, a dark green flannel over a white shirt, and a tan jacket over that. He was tall, well-built, with short brown hair, and entirely too handsome a person to encounter in real life, especially with his devastatingly blue eyes – eyes that were the same color as the dog.

You groaned internally for comparing his eyes to the dog’s.

“Hello,” he said, nodding at you a few paces before you were about to pass each other.

“Hello,” you managed to return – it was mostly automatic, but the intensity of his gaze almost prevented you from the customary politeness of fellow trailwalkers.

After he passed, you shook your head. No need to be flustered by the momentary passing of a stranger.

You looked back over your shoulder, and then your heart thudded to discover that he was looking back at you, too. He smirked, turned, and kept along his way.

You shook your head at yourself and then kept on your way.

The walking path through the forest was narrow in parts, wider in others, and rambled on for a mile or so before it split, allowing its travelers to eventually circle clockwise or counter-clockwise around a still, blue body of water that was bigger than a pond but not quite large enough to be classified as a lake. The trees ran right down to the water in many areas, and the path, as it circled, sometimes came very close to its edges, and in other places only came within ten or fifteen meters of the shore.

On day three, you saw the man in the morning, and the dog in the afternoon.

The man, the same you saw before, came towards you after he'd done a circle around the lake. You reached the two forks before having to directly pass him, to which he waved and said hello, the same casual niceties.

In the afternoon, the dog approached you slowly but directly, and you knelt happily and held out your hand to encourage him to close the gap. He did, and after a quick sniff, let you pet him and scratch his ears.

“No collar?” you asked as you pet and admired his smooth, shiny coat.

After a minute, you stood and said, “You seem pretty familiar with this forest, well-fed, and so friendly. I don’t need to worry about you, do I?”

He circled you quickly, wagged his tail, and you laughed. “You want to join me for my walk this time?”

He trotted ahead a few steps, then looked back at you and waited.

You laughed. “I guess I’ll join you for this walk then.”

The two of you kept pace with each other all the way around the small lake, and then shortly after you got back to the main forest length, he trotted off the path into the forest again with only a small look back and a happy bark before bounding away.

That evening, because you had gone on so many walks, the rest of the group at the cabin decided to take an evening stroll around the lake. The planked wooden path made an adventure after dark doable enough. You didn’t see either of the strangers – dog or man – but there were a few times you had the keen sense you were being watched. In the dark it was impossible to tell, but the feeling came and went.

The next morning, you made your way down the deep forest path without encountering anyone and took the right fork to make your way around the lake.

At nearly the same place the dog had approached you the afternoon before, the man came striding your way from off the path.

“Hello,” he greeted as soon as he’d stepped out of the trees.

It was evident he intended to speak to you.

“Hello,” you said, trying to be friendly, but unsure how this would unfold, and a little nervous over engaging with the stranger.

Your heartbeat sped up the closer he got, but not because he was still a stranger, but because you were reminded he was altogether too handsome of a stranger. This was made even more obvious than your brief passings the previous two days, as now you could only stand still and watch as he approached you.

You remembered he was tall, but today he seemed taller. Those blue eyes had you rooted to the spot where you stood, and his face had a small but easy smile. You tried in vain to keep your heart from racing the closer he got.

“I’m Nick,” he offered, once he was close enough for conversation.

You gave your name in response.

“Nice to actually meet you,” he said as he stepped up onto the boardwalk. “You’re not from around here. Staying in one of the vacation cabins?” he guessed.

You nodded. “And you are from around here?” you surmised. “Do you live here? Work here? Both?”

“I suppose you could say both.” A calm but crips breeze swept through the trees around you, rustling through the leaves.

“Oh, are you the caretaker?”

“Guardian, caretaker, king of the forest,” he joked.

You laughed, and it was an easy laugh.

He echoed your laugh. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, of course, I do,” you said.

“If you let me join you, maybe I can prove my place here in the forest, share some of the history of the land, and some of my expert knowledge.” He raised his brow in a questioning look.

You were torn equally between hesitance and intrigue, but you were more unsure of how to decline, nor did you actually want to, so you nodded, and the corner of his mouth ticked up. He swept his arm to the side, gesturing at the path, and as you started walking, he fell right in step with you.

“So, what brought you to the forest?” he asked.

You explained how your boss had booked the large corporate retreat cabin for your team, planning many days of bonding and strategy conversations and leadership workshops with the consultant flown in from New York City.

As you walked together, he made good on his promise to tell you more about the forest and the lake. He pointed out some of the flora and fauna, showing his care and consideration for the wildlife and growth of the wilderness.

“It must be nice living out here.”

“You would like it.”

You looked over at him, finding he was already watching you, and then turned your head back to the path. “I think I might. Being out here the past few days has me contemplating quitting my job, selling off most of my stuff, and just finding a small cabin in the woods and writing or something.”

“You should.”His concentrated attention both unnerved you and put you at ease at the same time. It was a strange feeling. There was something within you that wanted more time with him like this, but it was silly to want. This was only your first conversation with him. You wouldn’t be spending day after day stumbling into walks with him any more than you would be abandoning your city life to embrace a secluded existence in a cabin in the forest.

But it might be nice, you thought.

“If only,” you finally sighed.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. “When are you supposed to leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

He hummed in thought. “That seems like an awfully long cabin retreat for a team of colleagues.”

You laughed. “It certainly is. My boss has too much money and got very excited. It’s mostly a good office of people, and there are about ten of us here, but I definitely like my time away from the group – we’ve been encouraged to spend our breaks however we need.”

“And you took to your walks in the woods.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed and smiled softly. “Oh, actually, do you know about the black dog running around out here? I’ve seen him every other day, but not yet today.”

“He caught your heart, didn’t he?”

You grinned and nodded. “Does he have owners out here, or is he wild? He doesn’t have a collar.”

“No owners.”

“Not unlike you?”

“Oh, have I caught your heart, too?”

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you tried not to let your pace falter. “I–”

He gave a chuckle, but he also let his fingers brush against yours as you continued to walk side by side. “Don’t worry, if I didn’t want to see you, I would know how to go unnoticed by you in this forest.”

“Oh.” It was a small response, especially compared to the burst of warmth that bloomed in your heart, but you weren’t quite sure how to respond. You were flattered with the flirting and his insinuation that he did want to see you. A whisper in the back of your mind wondered how many years he must have walked these woods to know its secrets and be so confident that he could wander it undetected, but he gestured for you to listen to the faint call of a pair of birds nearby. He identified them as veery thrushes, and then you were carried along into learning about them and some of the other animals that inhabited this area of the forest during the rest of your short morning walk.

Nick came across you walking again in the afternoon. He told you more about the forest and its history, but more and more he started to ask more questions about you.

You liked that he asked about you.

It seemed impossible that this unbelievably tall (was he even taller than he was before? Surely he wasn’t), dark, handsome man was so keen on your company, but you couldn’t help but take to him, and to the warmth of the attention he shined on you like the sun that filtered through the leaves of the trees to bathe the rest of the flora in the forest.

It may have been silly to dream about him that night when you went to sleep, but you had no real control over that, and although this whole excursion was for work, a small, inconsequential crush on someone you would never see again when you went home was fine.

The next morning, you didn’t run into him during your walk, but you were happy to run into your furry companion again, and he stayed right at your side while you took the loop around the lake. You were only a little sad there was no sign of Nick, but even though he clearly spent a lot of time there, you couldn’t expect him to always be in the woods.

So, when you were just starting along the path for your walk and hear footsteps coming up behind you, you eagerly looked over your shoulder, only to see two men walking some twenty to thirty yards behind you. You sighed and kept walking. You hadn’t seen a great deal of people on the trail over the past few days, but these weren’t the first strangers, as it was an area with enough scattered cabins throughout the forest to merit the establishment of the sturdy planked path in the first place.

But as you continued on, the men seemed to keep pace with you, speeding up when you did, and slowing down and maintaining some of the distance when you tested it, and that made you nervous. You would feel better even just to see the wild dog so you could call him to you. You were sure he would deter the men. But there was no sign of him either.

As you approached the fork that created the lake loop for the path, you didn’t know which to hope for – that they would take the other path and you would have to potentially pass them, or take the same one as you and you could hope that they would keep their distance.

They went the same way as you.

And they started to close the distance.

You thought you were imagining it at first, but when you increased your pace, theirs quickened even more, and there was no more of the hum of talking between them.

You didn’t want to panic and run. They both had a height advantage with longer legs, and if you could simply continue to walk more quickly, you could at least stave off the need to run until there was no more choice – because you were sure the second you ran, they would follow suit, and you didn’t know how long you’d last.

Especially now that your heart was already racing.

“Hey sweet thing,” one of them called out.

You focused on keeping your quick pace and didn’t look back.

“Nice day for a walk,” the same gruff voice added.

Still you refused to engage. You expected this now and then in the city, but it wasn’t supposed to happen out here. You didn’t have a phone to suddenly get on and call someone or keys in your pocket to thread through your fingers for makeshift protection.

“Nice day for more than a walk, don’t you think?” the second man chimed in.

“Yeah, maybe a little afternoon delight.”

Your skin crawled.

“A little fucking,” the second one jeered.

Maybe you did need to run.

And then suddenly at a bend in the path, you turned and there he was.

Nick.

Your heart leapt in relief, and you rushed to him.

He had to have instantly seen the panic in your eyes as his own blue eyes changed immediately into a dark storm, and he looked beyond you as he quickly strode forward to meet you. He saw the men immediately as they, too, turned around the bend, and you heard their footsteps slow immediately.

Nick pulled you into his side, wrapping a protective arm around you.

“Afternoon,” one of the men said, both of them nodding, trying to pass off casual greetings as if they hadn’t been closing in on you, making their intentions clear.

“Turn around, pack up, and leave this forest,” Nick said, voice flat and threatening.

“Hey! Look, man,” the other started, but Nick cut him off.

“Turn around, pack up,” he repeated, enunciating each word with more fury, “never come back.”

They stopped walking, putting them only ten yards away.

“Now,” Nick growled.

A ripple of fear shot through you at his tone, and it wasn’t directed at you. There was a sudden groaning and crashing of trees in the distance that only added to the tension of the moment, and then the two men turned around and retreated.

“I know where you’re staying. Don’t make the mistake of thinking my directions are idle or that I won’t check to make sure you’re gone,” he spoke loudly enough for them to hear as they got further away.

With them no longer in sight, Nick turned his full attention to you, taking both your hands in his. “You alright?”

You took a deep breath in then let it out to release the tension from the fear-driven adrenaline and nodded.

He murmured your name, pressing in concern, ducking slightly to gaze directly into your eyes.

You smiled softly at his worry, the seeds that bloomed earlier in your heart coming to life and blooming a bit more. “I’m fine now,” you reassured him, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Really,” you promised. “Not the first intimidating creeps I’ve ever encountered.”

“Okay.” His face relaxed, but only a fraction, and you had the impression it was only to help ease your tension. “If you’re sure.”

You nodded.

He dropped your hands, and you reminded yourself not to let your face drop as he did.

“Sorry I didn’t meet up with you earlier, I-“

You cut him off, “I wasn’t expecting you to meet up with me, and I don’t always get to steal away for these walks at the same time.”

He nodded. “I know. But I want to show you why time got away from me.”

“Okay.”

His face split into a bright smile. “Follow me,” he said, turning around and trekking into the trees.

You trailed behind him as the ground gently sloped toward the lake. The trees and underbrush were abundant yet thin enough to allow the two of you to pass through. The wooden path varied in how close it was to the lake as it wound around, and here it was less than a minute before you could see the water’s edge. Nick abruptly stopped and put his arm out for you to also stop.

Since he’d been walking so quickly, you did bump right up against his arm with a small mumbled, “sorry,” and he turned his head to smile. Then he turned to look ahead and pointed to a cluster of rocks right at the shoreline.

You squinted to study them, and then you gasped when two little furry heads popped up over the top of the rocks.

“Otters!” you whispered.

“Yes,” Nick confirmed. “Freshwater river otters. I think we’ve got a clan of at least four that have only appeared today in the lake. Probably migrated down the river from the lake further up. They’ve been getting a bigger tourist draw up there, and I imagine they don’t want to be constantly disturbed by humans encroaching on their habitat.”

He took slow, measured, unassuming steps closer, and you tentatively followed. The two otters both perched up higher on the rocks, giving tiny yelps.

Nick motioned for you to kneel as he did. He held out his hand toward the pair of mammals.

“They’re a curious and friendly species,” he said, and even as he said the words, the two darted up and over the rocks, coming closer by a few feet before pausing. The slightly larger one gave a little trill and took a couple more hops forward. Its companion sauntered right up next to it, but then took a few more steps forward, bopped its nose against Nick’s hand, huffed and turned away, darting right down the bank and into the water, gliding smoothly away. The other came forward, gave Nick’s outstretched hand a little more of a sniff, then turned its head to you, and edged your way. You quickly but carefully stretched your hand out, received a couple of sniffs, and then this otter also snorted and trotted away and into the water, trilling as it slipped into the clear water.

“No fish, no interest,” Nick said, and the two of you laughed.

He moved to sit on the ground, and you sat next to him. The pair of otters re-emerged, swam up to shore, and dove back in and out of the water frequently as the two of you watched and talked.

You only stayed there for a short space of time, and then Nick seemed to sense without you needing to prompt him that it was time to get back to your walk. He stood and gave you a hand up. He held onto your fingers for just an extra moment, looking at your hands together, before letting go and brushing himself off. You did the same, and then fell into step with him, heading back to the path.

Easy conversation, just like the day before, continued to flow between you. He appeared to have endless questions about you, and again his rapt attention was its own warm, addictive rush, and that thing in your heart continued to grow, vines starting to sneak out of your heart and around your chest.

Suddenly he stopped, and you stopped another step ahead and turned to look back at him. “What is it?”

“We’re at the spot that leads up to the cabin your group is staying in,” he answered, a broad smirk on his face.

“Oh,” your cheeks heated, and you ducked your head to laugh. “Oops.”

You didn’t want your last walk with him to suddenly be over.

“You’re quite taken with all of this, aren’t you? The forest calls to you.”

You let out a wistful sigh and looked back up at him. Damn those impossibly deep blue eyes. You were overcome with a terrible ache that radiated from the base of your throat and the top of your chest, and you desperately tried to tamp down the thick emotion.

“But I have to go home tomorrow.”

“Come walk with me tonight.”

You bit your lip.

“Come on,” he urged you. “It’s your last night, and it’s a full moon. You have to see the forest bathed in the full moon's light. Come with me.”

“Yes,” you heard the word tumble out of your mouth, unable to deny him.

His eyes darkened and sparkled. “I promise you’ll see things you’ve never seen before.”

Though Nick wasn’t far from your thoughts, you focused well enough on your last evening with the group, engaging in dinner and the evening’s bonding activities. Wine and mocktails were poured for a final night looking up at the stars around a fire in the firepit on the balcony, and you made sure to enjoy that time, too. You had liked some of your coworkers before the retreat, but now you had a better understanding and appreciation for all of them.

However, once it got closer to ten, you anxiously started taking stock of the minutes passing away further into the night. Two of your group said goodnight at ten, but that was too early. You determined you would do well to stay with the balcony group until at least half-ten so you didn’t get too anxious about seeing Nick later.

At ten-thirty, a few more peeled off from the group, and so you retired to your room so that your timely departure didn’t seem unnatural to anyone.

You showered and messed with your hair for a bit but didn’t bother with makeup since it was after dark. You put on your favorite pair of joggers, a crewneck, and good walking shoes. You certainly hadn’t anticipated taking to the forest with so many walks each day, it wasn’t anything like how you were at home – busy with work and taking care of your life in the city – but it had been so natural to take to the outdoors while you were here. This final walk before your party went home in the morning wasn’t going to be like any of the others. You tried not to feel foolish for indulging in a walk at midnight with the hulking man with the most captivating blue eyes you’d ever seen who could easily take your breath away and whisk you off your feet.

But you had said yes because when else would you ever do something like this?

The answer was never.

And there was no harm in taking a handsome man up on his offer for a midnight stroll in the moonlight.

You put on the watch your grandmother had given you and the simple necklace you typically wore. They weren’t much, and you told yourself you didn’t need to dress up anyway, but they were small touches all the same.

Looking briefly in the mirror, you smoothed your hand down over the front of your shirt and took a deep breath. It’s fine, you thought. He’s seen you plenty before now, and it’s going to be dark, and it’s only a walk anyway. You checked your watch, and it was just a few minutes before eleven-thirty, which is when Nick had said to meet him.

You slipped quietly out of your room, down the stairs, and out the back door. The full moon was bright out here so far away from any city lights, illuminating the familiar path from the cabin that would take you down to the main boardwalk trail.

So many times Nick had simply appeared in the forest, but he was waiting for you right at the end of the path. Your heart raced just a little as his lips turned up in a smile.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“You came.”

He studied your face intently. You were unsure what he was looking for and simply focused on returning your gaze as unassuming as possible, telling your heart to settle and stop beating so fast. Yes, he made you feel things, but one of those things over the past few days had also been a sense of calm and safety in his presence, and you concentrated on that.

After another moment, finally, you responded with a simple, “I said I would.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “Then let’s go.”

You fell easily into step with him, the trail so familiar now, though it had been less than a week, and knowing this ramble down to the lake and back, your chest started to feel thick in anticipation of missing it already. As you walked and talked, you thought you were keeping pace with Nick, but maybe you were more tired than you thought because it seemed like you were working to stay in stride with him as you hadn’t had to before. Either that or his legs were longer than before, but that – of course – was an impossible thought.

You shook your head.

Nick paused and turned. “What are you shaking your head at?” he asked. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” His tone was soft and teasing.

“Sorry, I got distracted, and my imagination got a little carried away with impossibilities.”

He cocked his head slightly. “Maybe more is possible in this forest than you might think.” His eyes danced with a hint of mystery.

“Is that so?” You played into his mischief.

He leaned closer. “This is an old forest, and it’s a full moon. Anything could happen on a night like tonight.”

Your body seemed drawn into him, leaning closer as well. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he whispered, and his eyes flicked down to your lips.

The moment hung between you. You tilted your head up, and your eyes fluttered closed. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

And then he tugged on your hand, yanking you out of the moment. “Come on, pretty girl, we’re almost there.”

You sighed, letting out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

But with how tightly his hand held yours as he led you off the boardwalk and into the trees, you didn’t feel too disappointed.

He was quiet now, but he also kept you close as he led you through this part of the forest. The trees were more thickly woven together here, with girthier trunks, and you couldn’t help but feel how they were older the further you wandered in. There was no trace of a path now, but Nick kept a confident pace, clearly knowing each inch of the forest intimately, and his surety allowed you to let yourself be swept away further and further along.

His steps were swift but nearly silent, and you tried to walk as quietly as possible. The sounds of the forest at night were soft but present – soft wind whistling through the trees, the song of nocturnal birds, and the chirping of crickets. The light filtering through the branches was minimal, and it had to be tricking you because you knew he was tall, but it felt like he was somehow taller tonight. It had to be the nature of how you were keeping so close just behind him, focused on the square of his shoulder and the gentle pull of his arm leading you.

He wasn’t taller now than he was earlier today, was he?

“Just up ahead,” he said, looking back over his shoulder at you, one of the easy smiles that made your heart sigh painted on his face.

His pace quickened, and your anticipation built as you hurried to keep up.

Seconds before the tree line broke, you heard the rippling sounds of water before emerging into a glade. Nick stopped a few steps into the clearing, and you came to stand right next to him. The first thing to draw your eye was a stream running into a small pool. The meadow on the side of the stream where you stood sloped gently down to the water, and it was covered in blankets of wood anemone, reaching right down to the bank and springing up and sprawling away again on the other side. The trees surrounding the glade were certainly some of the tallest you’d seen in the forest, and they rose as giant sentinels toward the inky black sky, which was studded with stars around the bright full moon.

As you looked up and around, the coupling of the simplicity and the majesty of it all had you enraptured, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment.

Nick brought your hand up to his face, pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and your heart stuttered in your chest. You turned to look at him. His eyes almost appeared to glow an even brighter blue.

“I said it earlier, but this forest calls to you, doesn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

You did.

He dropped your hand, and you let it fall to your side.

“Take a deep breath,” he whispered.

You inhaled slowly, letting the breath fill your belly and lungs, fresh, clean, and calm. You tipped your head back, your face craving the moonlight in that moment.

Although you didn’t hear him move, suddenly you felt the warmth of Nick standing behind you. “Now, listen and feel,” he murmured softly in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You shivered but remained rooted to the spot. His fingers brushed along the backs of your hands and began to trail slowly up your arms. Your whole body was humming at his touch.

He pressed one soft kiss to your neck, and you sighed and let your neck fall to the side. When his hands landed on your shoulders, he pressed another soft kiss at the bottom of your neck, then turned you to face him.

“You should stay with me.”

Before you could respond, he took your head in both his hands, cradling your jaw. He searched your eyes for any hesitancy, but you knew you couldn’t summon any, nor did you want to. Instead, you pushed up on your toes, seeking his lips, and he met you halfway, claiming your lips with his.

Your hands came up to clutch at his wrists as he held your face, and you leaned in, longing to feel your body close to his. His tongue teased at the seam of your mouth, and you let him in, allowing the kiss to deepen, to sear into your very soul. His left hand moved, quickly coming to press at the small of your back, drawing you flush against him. One of your arms wound around his broad chest, and the other came up to mirror how he was cupping your cheek, feeling the trace of stubble along his jaw with your fingers. You stroked his tongue with yours, moaning into the kiss, and he reciprocated stroke for stroke. You quickly became so consumed by his kiss, feeling lightheaded but not sure if it was him or a lack of air, because you couldn’t tell if you were still breathing. It was a fevered kiss driven by something you’d never felt so strongly before, and you needed more.

Nick sank to his knees, and you went naturally down with him. He sat back on his heels, and you followed, perching in his lap. He held you there, your core over his groin, for a delicious moment, and then suddenly he lifted you up and laid you softly but swiftly onto the soft flowery bed of the meadow, his lips never leaving yours. You gasped and giggled against his mouth.

“What a lovely sound,” he said tenderly. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, a satisfied grin on his face.

Whether it was smug or sweet, you weren’t sure, and you felt your cheeks growing warm under his hungry gaze and his soft praise.

“I wonder what other lovely sounds I can draw from you,” he added as both of his hands moved to your hips. He began kissing you again, having only given you a moment of reprieve, then his hands slid slowly up your waist, skimming up over your ribs, pushing up the fabric of your sweatshirt. When his thumbs brushed up against the underswell of your breasts, he pressed back and forth a few times, teasing you, drawing a little whimper, before he let his thumbs run up and over your nipples. They were both peaked, and you shivered in pleasure, the teasing through the fabric of your bra its own unique sensation, but you were eager for more, so you moved your hands to begin quickly unbuttoning his flannel. He took the hint, helping you by shrugging off his jacket, and when he leaned up for a moment to pull off his flannel and remove the t-shirt he had on beneath it, so you shifted beneath him to pull off your sweatshirt and reach for the clasp of your bra, tossing that to the side as well.

You hadn’t hesitated to rid yourself of your clothes, but you were hit with the rush of baring your chest to him now as – with his own clothing discarded – he froze and looked down at you from above. You flushed with heat, but as you moved one hand to tentatively cover yourself, he grabbed it in his, drew it up to his mouth, and kissed your palm.

You were aware of every imperfection as his eyes roved over your body, but when he looked into your eyes and said, “gorgeous,” his face was so serious, so hungry, you didn’t question that he meant it.

He lowered himself back down over you, supporting himself by planting one forearm on the ground next to your side, and this time his lips sought your chest. He kissed down your sternum, then took one breast in his mouth, and palmed the other with his free hand. You moaned as he sucked one nipple and rolled and teased the other with his fingers. You arched beneath him, your body responsive to his diligent ministrations. He switched to the other breast, flicking his tongue over the nipple before lapping and sucking at it. You hadn’t cum before from nipple play alone, but he had you wondering if you might as the pleasure mounted.

You trembled and whimpered beneath him, and as you began to writhe more desperately, he took his mouth off your breast with an audible pop. He moved back up your body, and his hand cupped your face again, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek, urging you to open your eyes and look at him.

“Tell me you never thought about it, about staying here with me after I left you earlier today,” he said.

You were already breathless, or else the powerful drive in his deep blue eyes would have stolen your breath once again.

“You must let me have you,” he implored.

You couldn’t answer, but only because you were overcome by the desire in his eyes. For you.

Your name fell from his lips, and his voice was soft, deep, and controlled, but you could still feel the edge of the desperate plea as he uttered your name.

“Yes,” you keened, and you rocked your hips up against his.

“Say the words,” he said. “Say my name and tell me I can have you.”

He slipped his hand down, hooked two fingers into your waistband, and pulled teasingly along the edge from your hip to just below your navel. The torturous movement along your soft skin only drove the hunger that was building for more.

He had to know how he was mounting and playing with the anticipation. But if he needed you to say it, you’d say anything to get what you wanted right now under the light of the full moon from this inimitable figure of a man, nearly unreal in his beauty.

“Nick, you can have me!” You cried.

He wasted no time in pulling your trousers and underwear down in one go. You tried to kick off your shoes, but slightly struggling to do so, his hands helped remove your shoes and socks more deftly, and he was able to more easily toss it all away. And as your legs settled back down on either side of him as he knelt above you, you realized he was suddenly somehow as naked as you – though you didn’t know how he managed that so quickly, so quickly it felt like magic. Everything about tonight felt illusory, and yet it was all tangible and indisputable, and you gave yourself over to it. When else would you ever find yourself in such an enchanted set of circumstances like this ever again?

So what if it felt like a dream?

You took a deep breath and let your fingers tangle in the grass and the stems of the wood anemone. Your eyes traveled up his thighs to a cock so thick and long and hard for you, then up further, over his hips, defined abs, chiseled chest, and broad shoulders, and you whined. Every inch of him ignited heat through your body, and when your eyes met his again, your pulse stuttered.

You could dream like this for one night.

Keeping his eyes locked on yours, Nick settled back on his haunches and pulled your thighs up over his, drawing you up over him, angling your lower half up as an offering, and his piercing cerulean gaze moved to your core, fully on display. His fingers brushed over your lower stomach, the touch so light it tickled, and you jerked, but his other hand held your hip firmly in place. His fingers parted your folds without hesitation, and he licked his lips.

“Such a pretty, wet cunt, my little nymph,” he said, and you felt both shy being so exposed to him, and desperate for him.

“Nymph?” you couldn’t help but question, surprised by the pet name.

“Mhmm,” Nick hummed. He traced your wet folds with one finger, in no rush. “You belong to this forest.” He spread your wetness along those lips with the attention of an artist to his canvas. Then he slipped two fingers inside your cunt.

You gasped, and your eyes fluttered closed.

He pushed them all the way in, then gave a few slow, shallow thrusts in and out.

You never wanted to wake up from this, but you needed more.

“Nick, please!”

He withdrew his fingers and then pressed them to your lips. “Taste your sweet nectar, nymph.”

The digits easily slipped into your mouth, and the urge to suck was a near primal reaction. He applied gentle pressure on your tongue as you sucked, and it only drove the craving in your core further. You were entirely lucid, and yet you felt thoroughly intoxicated by him, by everything around you.

“Open your eyes,” he said, and you did.

You swore he could see into your soul when he looked at you so intensely, but rather than fear, it soothed your nerves. It also more deeply stoked your desire for him, and as much as you wanted to linger in this moment, there was an undeniable pull you couldn’t ignore.

“Kiss me,” you breathed.

He shifted to lean down over you, remaining rooted between your thighs but shifting forward so you were nearly chest to chest. He bore his weight on his forearms, caging you in. As he settled, lips only a breath away from you, you felt the weight of his large, thick cock rest on your stomach. You lifted your head to pull him into the kiss you wanted. You ached for him to fill you up, but you also wanted to give everything just to this kiss for a few beats longer.

It was like he was drinking you in. One of your arms came up around his back, the other brushed up along the side of his arm, seeking and ultimately finding his hand, and your fingers instinctively entwined together.

He moved his other hand down briefly to guide the head of his cock to your weeping hole, and you gave a little moan into his mouth as his head entered you.

As he seated his cock fully inside of you, the tip nudging your cervix, you had to break off your kiss to concentrate on breathing. Nick dropped his forehead to yours, seemingly unable to refuse some form of intimate closeness as he rocked into you again. “You can feel it,” he spoke, the warmth of his breath still close to your mouth.

“Yes,” you panted. Your legs wrapped around his torso. He resumed thrusting, slow, deep thrusts.

“I can feel it, too,” he murmured along your jaw. “You’re answering the call of the forest.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, hardly focused on what he was saying, but the deep warmth of his voice made the words swell through your mind.

He continued his unhurried thrusts, almost methodical in nature, and after a few more minutes, his cock began to swell inside you. And it continued to grow.

You moaned – or groaned – you couldn’t decipher if what you were feeling was real and whether it was painful or pure ecstasy. Your hand clasped his more tightly, and his answering squeeze was accompanied by tendrils of vines sprouting and circling around your hand and down around your wrist.

“What?” Your eyes flew open, and then you gasped. “Nick!”

He was transforming before your eyes. His face remained familiar, but a crown of horns appeared around his head, and emerald moss and glossy leaves intermingled and sprouted throughout his dark hair. Two enormous, magnificent antlers had emerged from his temple and were still slowly growing, just as he was still slowly growing inside you as he continued his steady thrusts. His shoulders broadened, and you knew he was growing in stature.

You trembled beneath him, tears springing to your eyes, in danger of spilling over.

“I told you, my little nymph: I’m the king and guardian of this forest – it speaks to me like it wants to speak to you. You’re answering the call, and I can’t,” he paused to groan, and with a shiver, you felt the ridge of his spine shift from skin to a supple tree bark. “It’s midnight, and with you giving yourself to me and the forest, I can’t hold back my true form.”

He began to thrust more quickly in and out of your cunt, a few of the strokes a little erratic. You whimpered, overwhelmed, and a few tears spilled over your cheeks.

“No, none of that,” he scolded, but kissed away the tears. “You didn’t want to leave, and now you don’t have to, nor can you.”

His free hand moved between you and found your pulsing, puffy clit, applying immediate, furious little circles that refused to let you feel anything but pleasure in response to his ministrations. His lips reclaimed yours once again, and as your body continued to tremble, his thrusts sped up even more, your channel never more full, making the mounting wave of pain and pleasure so exquisite as the waves grew that you let out a sob as your orgasm crashed over you.

Unrelenting, as your cunt contracted around him, Nick more demandingly sought his own release. He moved both hands to grip your ribs below your wrists and railed into you with abandon, punching the air from your lungs over and over, and ultimately pushing you into a rushed second orgasm only seconds before he roared his own ecstasy, his hips stuttering as he spilled deep loads of his seed inside of you, a warmth you could feel permeating you.

And then Nick petted your face, showering kisses softly over your lips, cheeks, and eyelids before ultimately resting his forehead on yours, and gently caressing your neck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you, for this, and now you're mine forever.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

If you enjoyed this at all, read the other two fics from the Enchanted Birthday Fest! They're both exquisite!

#nick fowler #sebastian stan #nick fowler smut #teratophillia #terato #female reader #nick fowler x female reader #tw: dubcon #sebastian stan smut #aspen wrote something #aspensenchantedbday

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creature-wizard · 7 months

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What is the New Age to Alt Right Pipeline, and how do you stay out of it?

The term "New Age to Alt Right pipeline" refers to the way alternative spirituality and healthcare often serves as an entry point to far right radicalization. While many people are dismissive that such a thing could even exist, plenty of people in occult and witchcraft communities can confirm that it is very much a real thing. Having studied far right conspiracies myself for awhile now, I can personally confirm that a number of people involved in alternative spirituality, including ones who consider themselves progressive, are spouting off the very same conspiracy theories used to justify persecution of the Jews throughout the Middle Ages to the Nazi regime.

Even if you don't reckon yourself a New Ager, you are still likely to come across this stuff because there's no hard and fast place where New Age ends and witchcraft, neopaganism, or whatever begins. While the core and arguably most defining belief of New Age is that the Earth is on the cusp of entering a new cosmic cycle, there's a significant amount of overlap between things New Agers are into, and things that other people are into.

For example, someone interested in Wicca might start researching the Goddess, and from there very quickly encounter conspiracy theories claiming that everyone was monotheistic for the Great Goddess back before The Patriarchy Tee Em invented a male god for people to be monotheist for. From there, it's just a short matter of time before they start coming across materials claiming that the Jews are responsible for the creation of this god, and also responsible for the Catholic Church, and so on. (Pro tip, the Roman government was responsible for the Catholic Church.)

The best way to keep yourself safe from this isn't to simply avoid all material that might potentially contain far right ideas and conspiracy theories. Rather, it's to learn what they look like. Here's a few things to watch out for:

The grand conspiracy narrative: The exact details you'll hear will vary depending on who you're listening to - every conspiracy theorist tailors and re-tailors the grand conspiracy narrative to suit their own agendas and beliefs. The key details to watch out for are claims that there's this secret group that's been pulling the strings behind the scenes for a long while now, and that their agents are working everywhere to make sure the people stay deceived.

To be blunt about it, literally every conspiracy theory about a New World Order, a shadow government, generational satanists, satanic bloodlines, reptilian bloodlines, and so on is a riff on the material found within The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, a czarist hoax used to justify violence against Russian Jews, and later on, the Holocaust. There are no exceptions.

During the Satanic Panic, many people claimed to have been part of such a conspiracy. Investigations failed to turn up any real evidence, and those pushing these claims always turned out to have a history of dishonest behavior, or had been subjected to hypnosis by someone with a history of dishonest behavior and/or a gross disregard for medical ethics.

If you see someone claiming to have been part of something like this today, your best assumption is that they are lying to you, or are extremely confused. End of story.

Great Goddess conspiracy theories: Back in the mid-19th century, Eduard Gerhard proposed that people all used to worship the Great Goddess, until patriarchy came along and replaced her with a god. There's literally no evidence for this whatsoever, but a lot of people who believe that patriarchy is part of a grand conspiracy still believe this one. You'll often see it in conjunction with stuff about the "divine feminine" and womb magic among those who believe that patriarchy is part of the grand conspiracy.

Claims of mass ritual abuse and murder: An allegation that goes back to blood libel and the witch trials, far right conspiracy theorists often claim that there is an underground network of cults practicing ritual abuse and human sacrifice. This was the kind of thing that people were put under hypnosis to try and remember during the Satanic Panic, based on incorrect beliefs about how memory worked. (In reality, going under hypnosis to try and recover lost memories mainly results in fabricating completely new ones, because hypnotic visions basically work just like dreams.)

Claims of mass mind control: Not many people realize this, but this one goes all the way back to the witch hunts, when alleged witches were accused of ensnaring people's minds with their diabolical spells. (Yes, the witch trials were fueled by conspiracy theories!) Today's conspiracy theorists claim that the conspiracy uses things like music, movies, implants, subliminal messages, drugs, medications, 5G, extreme tortures, and more to put people under total mind control. The whole Project Monarch conspiracy theory is part of this; and a number of people were also put under hypnosis to "remember" being part of Project Monarch during the Satanic Panic.

Anti-pharma/anti-vax conspiracy theories: During World War II, Nazis demonized pharmaceutical drugs as "Jewish science" so they could push cheaper herbal remedies, which were largely ineffective. If you see somebody claiming that pharmaceutical drugs or vaccines are created by the conspiracy to keep people sick or make them easier to control, know that it's a redux of this old bullshit. Today's anti-pharma and anti-vax conspiracy theories often go in conjunction with claims that stuff like crystals, energy healing, and quantum healing technology can replace conventional medical care.

Claims to know the real cause of your medical or psychological symptoms: During the early modern witch hunts, strange symptoms were often blamed on the curses of satanic witches. The Satanic Panic picked this one up and modernized it through a psychological lens, claiming that seemingly inexplicable symptoms were evidence of suppressed memories of ritual abuse. Meanwhile, believers in alien abductions claimed it was evidence of suppressed memories of alien-related trauma, and neopagans and New Agers claimed it was evidence of past life trauma. All of these people have used hypnosis to help people "remember" these supposedly lost memories, and due to the nature of hypnosis (again, hypnotic visions work like dreams), all of them found "evidence" to corroborate literally anything they wanted to find.

Other modernizations of this old witch hunters' canard include claims that your strange symptoms are caused by things like 5G, chemtrails, chemicals in the water, food additives, sound frequencies, or such. Now this isn't to say that there's never been toxic food additives, or that certain sound frequencies can never cause harm; the key element is when these people claim that this stuff is done as part of a grand conspiracy.

Meanwhile, New Agers claim that your strange symptoms might actually be "ascension symptoms." For the record, numerous dates that ascension was supposed to happen on have gone and went, and we're all still here in 3D. So I'd recommend not holding your breath for this one, either.

Claiming the conspiracy is responsible for everything bad or wrong in the world: Conspiracy theorists will blame the grand conspiracy for literally anything they find unpleasant or objectionable to the conspiracy. This can include claiming that movies they found confusing, emotionally difficult, or ideologically challenging were deliberately designed to harm people or put them under mind control. They might claim that things like long wait lines are intentionally engineered to frustrate and exhaust people in order to make them easier to control. They might claim that horrible accidents or disasters are actually "programming" to make people accept the lie.

This isn't to say that governments never do genuinely malicious shit, or that brainwashing doesn't exist. The thing here is that conspiracy theorists frequently attribute nearly everything they find strange, confusing, or unpleasant to the schemes of a grand conspiracy. They often act like if it wasn't for the grand conspiracy, we would be living in utopia.

Dehumanization of the Other: Conspiracy theorists often talk as if the masses aren't quite human, calling them "NPCs" or "sheeple." Sometimes they literally believe that other people aren't truly human. You'll find various conspiracy theories claiming that certain people are actually animal hybrids, AI-controlled clones, malicious aliens pretending to be humans, holographic projections, or something similar. The key thing to keep in mind here is that dehumanization is a crucial step toward genocide, and the far right wants to do genocide on anyone who doesn't do what they say, or doesn't fit their idea of what humanity ought to be like.

Individualist outlooks on life, metaphysics, etc: Today's far right is all about that Western individualism; they tend to be capitalists and libertarians, and think communism is an invention of the conspiracy. Their metaphysical views tend to reflect this, and they often subscribe to some form of worldview in which everything that happens to you is your fault, and expecting anyone else to take any kind of responsibility is just victim mentality.

With Christians, this presents as the belief that bad things happen to you because you're not right with God; if you got right with God, he would bless you with health and abundance.

With New Age and New Age-adjacent types, this often presents as stuff like the Law of Attraction and the Law of Assumption, where everything that happens to you is a consequence of the way you think. It can also present in the belief that if anything bad happens to you, it's your karma.

Stuff like the Law of Assumption is pitched as this super empowering way to get everything you want, but in reality it functions to make people feel responsible for the suffering they experience under capitalism and silence criticism of systemic issues.

So yeah, keep your eyes open for all this stuff, and if you see somebody out there pushing it - be wary!

Links for more info:

"How can I be a witch/pagan without falling for conspiracy theories/New Age cult stuff?" starter kit (I put a bunch of links to other posts and resources here earlier; no need to copy/paste them all here.)

Incomplete list of far right conspiracy theorists and con artists claiming to be occult experts and/or cult survivors

Hypnosis is unreliable for memory recovery, and this is one way we know.

False past life memories among the starseed movement

Hitler's Contribution to "Alternative Medicine"

#new age to alt right pipeline #radicalization #paganblr #occultblr #witchblr #conspiracy theories #conspiracy theory #conspiracism #new age #critical thinking #discernment #spirituality #conspirituality

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iwanthermidnightz · 7 months

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Ahhh did you see the new rolling stone gaylor article ?? I'm so impressed.

When Taylor Swift released the long-awaited rerecording of her genre-leaping album 1989, fans eagerly pored over vault tracks, theories of double albums, and limited edition vinyl releases that could predict Swift’s next re-record. But for Gaylors, a dedicated Swift fanbase that’s existed for over a decade, Swift’s prologue and a mention of her feelings surrounding speculation about her love life have dampened what should have been an exciting release.

Thinking about the 24-year-old she was when 1989 was released, Swift writes, “I swore off dating and decided to only focus on myself, my music, my growth, and my female friendships. If I only hung out with my female friends, people couldn’t sensationalize or sexualize that — right? I would learn later on that people could and people would.” Many users online interpreted that line as a subtle callout to Gaylors, supporters of the niche theory that Swift is queer or leaves queer messaging in her songs. But several members of the Gaylor community tell Rolling Stone they’re actually not convinced the callout is about them — and are receiving targeted and homophobic harassment in the process.

For those not extremely online, Gaylor is an unproven theory that Swift is queer and leaves messages alluding to past relationships in her work, a fan theory that originated on the blogging site Tumblr in the mid-2010s. It is also the fan name for groups of people who believe there are queer interpretations of Swift’s songs. (While Swift has been a vocal ally and advocate for LGBTQ+ rights and representation, she has never publicly commented on Gaylor and has only been in public relationships with men.) Gabriela, a 27-year-old Gaylor, tells Rolling Stone she doesn’t believe Swift’s prologue is about the Gaylor fandom specifically, but she’s frustrated at the use of the word ‘sexualize,” which she says has long been co-opted by fans who think Gaylor is harmful or inherently rude.

“I think it’s a call-out yes, but more to the media at large, rather than just about the Gaylor subset of her fandom, which is only a small piece of her complaint. [Swift] doesn’t want to be assumed to be in a sexual, romantic relationship with anyone she is seen next to,” Gabriela says. “Hetlors [those who object to the Gaylor discourse] are cherry-picking to make it about her ‘shutting down gay rumors.’”

As an internationally beloved artist — one capable of selling more movie tickets than Martin Scorcese and convincing an entire fandom to rebuy her music her way — Swift professes an unusually close relationship with her followers. The lyricist often hides clues in her work and visuals, encouraging fans to decipher what coded messages and hints she’s leaving behind. But Swift has also verbalized how upset slut-shaming and assumptions about her love life make her. Anna, a 23-year-old Gaylor who uses they/them pronouns, agrees that the prologue wasn’t about Gaylor specifically but says they do think all Swift fans online could operate with more boundaries.

“Of course, I’m a little annoyed that people are pulling one or two lines of the prologue out of context and using it as a justification to be homophobic and send death threats to my friends, but I don’t think Taylor is at fault for people misconstruing her words and I think she has every right to call out things that make her uncomfortable,” Anna tells Rolling Stone. “’Shipping’ culture across the fandom seems to have gotten really ugly recently on all accounts. I’ve seen people speculate on her sex life, openly and graphically, track her location, insinuate that she wants/has children and just overall cross a lot of boundaries. It may be unpopular for me to say it, but I do think members on all sides needed to be put in their place a little bit.”

All of the Gaylor fans who spoke to Rolling Stone expressed that beyond the prologue, much of the reaction to them as a group has stemmed from a lack of understanding about why the fandom exists and has lasted for almost a decade. Liv, 26, says that the Gaylor community has been a large part of her life — it’s even how she met her current boyfriend. And she tells Rolling Stone the identity has allowed her to have a deeper understanding of Swift’s lyrics.

“It’s always fun for me to think about what inspired a song. So even if it’s not what happened in Taylor’s life, it’s interesting for me to think about a song through a queer lens, because I feel like it adds a lot of layers that a song about a guy might not have,” Liv says. “And I don’t really know any straight people who are that deeply obsessed with Emily Dickinson.”

The X account @gaylornews has over 12,000 followers. The admin behind the account declined to include her name but tells Rolling Stone Gaylor isn’t just a fun internet conspiracy theory, but means a lot to the community.

“Analyzing her lyrics through a queer perspective is more about defying heteronormative narratives and finding representation and not about invading Taylor’s privacy or sensationalizing her personal life,” the account owner says. “Gaylor is about queer people finding a safe space which straight people not only find but already have everywhere, is about all the things you never learned about yourself, is about feeling seen and genuinely understood.”

Regardless of what people think the prologue is about, Gaylors are worried about one thing: targeted harassment from more mainstream fans of Swift. In an April 2023 report from social media tracking firm Graphika, researchers found that Gaylors made up nine percent of active Swift fans on social media, but are often exiled and isolated from neutral fan spaces. The study also found that anti-Gaylor accounts, also referred to as Hetlors, “play a key role” in how the theory is presented to mainstream audiences and often misrepresent commonly held Gaylor beliefs, which can lead to the harassment and doxxing of neutral Gaylor accounts. Each of the Gaylors who spoke to Rolling Stone detailed targeted harassment, hate speech, and homophobia they’ve received online, something they all believe Swift would stand against.

“I think that people who are against Gaylors think we’re way more serious about it than we are. A lot of the things we say are jokes or ideas or possible theories,” Liv says. “And at the end of the day, none of us know what the truth is about her personal relationships. And we shouldn’t want to because [Taylor Swift] is entitled to her privacy.”

(link)

#wow well done!

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hypaalicious · 3 months

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Unpopular opinion: YA isn’t meant for adults.

Not saying adults can’t read YA; adults can read whatever tf they want. But it’s a huge mistake of mainstream publishing to allow YA to absolutely crowd out swathes of other subgenres to the point where articles such as this one get written in full seriousness.

Awhile back, there were teens on Tiktok lamenting that they can’t find media for them anymore. There were a bunch of condescending people happily shitting on them saying things like, “Uh, YA exists? These teen-centered TV shows exist?? Why are y’all lying lololol so dumb” instead of actually listening to these kids explain what they mean. Cause wow, it don’t bother y’all that despite all this hyper visible allegedly teen-centered media NONE of it is hitting for them? Y’all don’t stop to ask yourself why that is?

It’s because YA has become a fill-in for mid-range and adult fiction over the years. I can’t tell you how many synopses I’ve read that have sounded boss asf but then they make the MC fifteen years old and I’m immediately like

And I wanna be clear, this wouldn’t be a problem if YA hadn’t oversaturated the literary field. On top of that, I do not see real teenhood reflected in these characters. They come off more like they’re written by middle aged adults projecting what they think teens are like through the lens of how they wish their own long-gone teen years went. So yeah, no wonder kids don’t feel connected to the media that’s labeled for them. Too many adult consumers are crowding that space tryna live vicariously through teen media, and since it’s adults that have the money more often than not, publishers cater YA to them rather than teens. That’s not okay, y’all.

Also, there is no reason whatsoever for some of these characters to be teens except to fit into a very narrow category set by publishers who just want a wide market to sell to. Example: when I was looking up comp titles for my manuscript, I came across a fantasy book centering a Black female character at a college discovering her hidden magical powers and a mystery hidden away at the college and was like “oh shit, this sounds dope!”

… then I read a snippet and for WHATEVER REASON, they made the MC sixteen. Sixteen years old, but going to college as an exception.

It was just so obviously done as a way to slate the book under the YA label but narratively it made NO SENSE. Just make your character 18 or older if they gonna be in college! Oh, that’s right, you can’t because YA rendered the New Adult genre obsolete so if you can’t make your characters 14-17 then it’s not likely publishers will work with you. 🫠

Another problem I have with the whole “YA is for adults too!” thing is the fact that this does not serve adult literacy levels. Mind you, they’re already abysmal in the US in particular. But it doesn’t help when the only thing adults are encouraged to consume for fun are books written at a 5th-6th grade reading level. They ain’t reading anything adult anymore, either in prose or depth of content. And why would they when publishers are only making an effort to market YA as the 10-in-one shampoo type option to everyone who ages out of kidlit?

Different categories for different age groups exist for a reason, and the erosion & blending of these categories hurts the literary field a lot. We need to go back to the days where you could find age appropriate media for every stage of your life and actually connect with it.

#I will absolutely stay on publishing’s neck for this idc idc #Make YA for Young Adults again!#publishing #authors #books #booklr

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getvalentined · 28 days

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I love when folks ask me Fandom Old questions and I get to be like "Yeah, uh, that's from my old online RP group, no it's not canon at all, yes we just made it up, no we did not claim it was canon but the mid to late aughts were a strange time."

It's honestly a shock to realize how often this has happened. I mentioned earlier that Reno's fanon surname came from this same group, but that's not even the half of it. I once made a bunch of screenshot manips based on the most ridiculous ships anyone could think of—someone slapped a random line of text onto one of them and to this day it's used as a "cringe FF7 fandom" meme. I saw it on the twits a bit back and almost fell out of my goddamn chair.

If you've ever heard Scarlet referred to with the surname "West," read about Tseng fighting with metal fans, seen Elena's older sister being called Anna instead of Emma, come across Vincent portrayed as having a PhD in spite of being a Turk, or caught references somewhere to Grimoire experimenting on Vincent as a child, that started with this group. That was us.

One of the funniest examples of this, for me specifically, is that we don't actually know which arm Veld is missing? The fandom generally goes with his left because that's how I drew him in the first picture of the guy ever posted on devart way back in 2005, but it may very well be his right. I've seen people offer "proof" that it's his right based on a scene in the opening cutscene, but you can't tell there either, and with BC's graphics there's literally no way to tell on his sprite.

Hell, this year we found out everyone's assumed timeline of the Kalm fire is wrong, and that's our fault too because we made some assumptions about Felicia's age for an LJ RP that were entirely wrong. She's around Zack's age, not Sephiroth's! She's old enough to run with a terrorist group in BC, but she was a child when Kalm burned, and that happened in 1997—we know this because NPCs in Rebirth literally refer to the fire in Kalm having happened "just ten years ago." Veld has only had his prosthetic for three years when BC starts. (This also implies that, contrary to popular belief, Veld may actually be younger than Vincent. Vincent may have been the senior partner, and that's why he was sent to Nibelheim alone while Veld was left at headquarters.)

We were really wrong on this! But we were working with what we had. There's no canon evidence for the vast majority of these things (the most notable exclusion here is Vincent being educated) but we weren't claiming there was. We were filling gaps, and canon was so sparse that we had a lot of gaps to fill. So if it turns out that Veld lost his right arm, then I'll just have to start drawing him that way—because losing his left was never canon.

Tragically, there's nothing any of us can do to make people stop assuming these things are canon at this point; there aren't a lot of us still in the fandom, and it's not like any of us have those old chatlogs anymore. People from this RP group have DIED since those days. It's been over 20 years since most of us met, and around 15 since most of us were in a public fannish space together.

"Prove it," people say, and I literally can't. Do you know how many computers I've been through since then? 75% of the platforms we used no longer exist. This all started on a BBCode forum! There is no proof!

But...there's no evidence any of these things are canon, either, so maybe think about that? The Kalm fire, Tseng's weapon of choice, Veld's arm, character surnames—none of these are retcons because there was no lore there to retcon. We made it up for our specific purposes, and it escaped containment in an era when there was really no way to do online contact tracing.

It's just one of the weirdest feelings in the world to see younger folk arguing about A or B point in canon, about X or Y retcon—referencing something my friends and I thought up at like 10 o'clock at night on a now-defunct IM client in August of 2005, because we needed something to refer back to for a specific scene in an RP and the source material had nothing to offer.

Absolutely fucking bonkers.

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scribespirare · 11 months

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If you're up for it, could you write where Miles and Miguel are secretly in a relationship except the spider gang are trying to set either or both of them up with someone else?

secret relationships my beloved <3<3<3

“So I met this girl-”

Miles groans loudly and shoots his next web, letting it swing his weight up into the next arc. “You better be about to tell me you asked her out.”

“No,” Gwen says, and Miles can tell by the sound of her voice that she’s grinning under her mask. “I think you’d really like her!”

Miles groans again and takes a sudden turn mid-air to try and throw his meddling friend off, if just for a moment. And a moment is all it takes for Gwen to catch up to him again, swinging perpendicular to him and laughing. “C’mon, Miles! You gotta get out there!”

She’d turned him down nearly six months ago when he’d asked her out, and he knows she’s felt guilty about it ever since. And yeah, he’d been pretty bummed immediately after. But all his moping had drawn the gruff concern of someone else, and he and Miles had suddenly started spending more time together and…well, Miles now knows he’s bisexual. So.

With a final exhilarating but unnecessary flip Miles lands atop the roof of an apartment building, pausing to catch his breath. Gwen lands next to him gracefully and flips her hood back. “I’ve got her number, you want it? I got her permission to give it to you.”

“You what!?”

“Yeah, I keep a picture of you on my phone and everything,” she says teasingly. “She thinks you’re cute.”

“Oh my god,” Miles mutters, and wishes he could cover his face up even more than it aready is. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Her expression softens, the humor falling away. “I just want you to be happy, Miles.”

“I am!” he protests. And he’s not lying. Now that he’s able to see his friends regularly he’s not lonely anymore, or feeling burdened by the weight of being Spider-Man. That weight is shared across hundreds of other shoulders now.

And when he does have a random pang of loneliness? When he has a bad day or fights with his parents or even just doesn’t feel good for no reason at all? He has a place to go. A place with open, waiting arms that envelop him so completely he feels like the rest of the world couldn’t possibly exist beyond the boundaries of that embrace.

But Gwen doesn’t know that.

And neither do Hobie, Pavitr, Peter, or any of the rest.

Pavitr and Gwen are the worst about trying to set Miles up with others. Hobie will throw out the occasional offer but usually he stands up for Miles when the others get kind of pushy. Something about relationship anarchy and how Miles should be allowed to decide how he wants to handle his romances or lack thereof. Honestly, that is a different kind of annoying though. Because Miles does have a romantic relationship and it might just be a plain monogamous one in contrast to Hobie’s confusing poly web of flings and partners, but it still exists. Miles just…can’t talk about it. And Gwen’s meddling has now convinced the group that Miles is sad and pathetic and alone.

“I am,” Miles tells Gwen again. “I promise, I’m happy. Please stop trying to set me up with people?”

Gwen looks at him for a long, stretched out moment. “I’m not trying to set you up just to-”

“Please?” Miles cuts in.

That earns him a sigh and then an eye roll. “Fine. I’ll stop." He breathes a sigh of relief, but then- "Peter’s been working on Miguel anyways, I’ll just help him out.”

Miles feels the blood rush drain from his face. “Peter’s trying to date Miguel!?” he squeaks.

Gwen mistakes his panic for horror, which it kind of is but not in the way she thinks, and laughs. “No, he’s trying to talk Miguel into getting back out there. So far Miguel isn’t budging. I don’t really hangout in places where I can meet older women but maybe I can annoy him into looking for himself. Do you know if he likes guys as well?”

Fuck, out of the fire and into the frying pan.

#asks #requests #flowerfang

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makethatelevenrings · 7 months

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I mean this with ZERO disrespect, I'm simply trying to educate myself on this matter because it impacts us all.

All I can find about the Israel-Palestine conflicts is the fighting. What I want to know is why.

Whats the backstory? Why are they fighting? Why is everyone persecuting one another and who in the government is responsible?

I heard Hamas bombed Gaza and has taken hostages. What brought on this violence? Do all the Palestinians agree with this?

(More personal opinion questions, you don't need to answer these)

Do you agree with Hamas? Do you think that violence was a last resort to free Palestine? Do you think it's justified?

One thing I do hate is people saying "I hate *this group of people*, they are bad." They can't all be bad. So I don't like the titles of Anti-Israel/Anti-Palestine because you're assuming everyone there is on the same side.

In conclusion, people are stupid. The government is messed up. Citizens and families want to live so why won't the government let them?

I’m genuinely grateful that you’re asking because educating ourselves is one of the greatest tools we have. I’ll break it up into sections.

1. What’s the backstory?

In 1918, the Ottoman Empire conceded land they controlled to Britain (this is still an ongoing problem regarding many, many things because the Ottoman Empire controlled many nations that weren’t theirs to control if you catch my drift. Look up the Elgin marbles for a fun wormhole of WTF Britain). The Arab Revolt was backed by France and Britain with the promise that if the Arab fighters could force the Ottomans out of the area of the Levant, they would be granted independence (McMahon-Hussein Correspondence) but, plot twist, France and the UK instead split the region (Sykes-Picot Agreement). The Balfour Declaration of 1917 expressed Britain’s support of the creation of Israel. After they gained control of the region, they established Israel and systematically began to take the land of Palestinians.

Note: Zionism began as a belief in the mid-18th century. Many, MANY Jewish people do not subscribe, encourage, or promote the idea of a Jewish state. I do not view Israel = Jewish because it is antisemitic to imply that the Jewish diaspora all exist under the state of Israel. Especially when many Jewish people disagree with Israel.

Note note: Zionism was created as a response to the numerous pogroms and other antisemitic hate crimes affecting Jewish people. the Holocaust was fucking awful. No ifs ands or buts. Genocide doesn’t justify genocide, however.

Continuing on. So, clearly, the Palestinians are pissed. They were promised independence and instead now have their land taken by a global superpower who has historically fucked over hundreds of countries (another wormhole for you: India under British rule, Ireland and literally all of its history with England, the transatlantic slave trade under Britain, Africa under British rule, Australia and the treatment of Aboriginals under British rule, America and the British, it goes on). Palestinians revolted from 1936-1939 because, again, their home and promise of independence was being stolen. They lost against the British army but then 1939 was a bit of an important year for everyone and they world was sucked into another world war.

With WWII saw the birth of the United Nations, an organization that might sound important but has the moral backbone with the equivalence of a chocolate eclair. The UN said “hey, why don’t we split Palestine and Israel into two different states so maybe they’ll stop fighting” (United Nations Partition Plan for Palestine) and, as a result, the 1948 Palestine-Israel war began. Hundreds died. 700k+ people were forced from Palestine and spread across the world in what is called the Nakba. Israeli colonizers quite literally moved into homes that had been occupied by Palestinians only days before. In 1918, the Jewish population of the region was 8.1%. In 1948, when Israel was recognized as a nation by the UN, the Jewish population of the region was 82.1%.

2. There’s plenty of infographics and videos explaining the next few decades but I’m already writing an essay basically so the gist is: Palestinians keep losing their homes and Israel keeps taking them. Israel forces the Palestinians into smaller and smaller parcels of land until the control virtually everything but a small strip of land (Gaza) and the West Bank. That brings us to 2006.

Hamas was elected in 2006 over rivaling Fatah, gaining majority amount of seats in the Palestinian Legislative Council under the promise that they would help end the corruption many Palestinians were frustrated with. Instead they took military control over Gaza and established an autocratic state over millions of people who were already suffering under barbaric policies and practices from Israel. Politicians.

This is where things get a little…messy morally. Do I agree with Hamas? Fuck no. I couldn’t care less about Hamas because they don’t care about Palestinians. Do all Palestinians agree with Hamas? Firstly, you will rarely find a group of people where all agree with some. Secondly, I don’t think they appreciate being bombed by Israel while Hamas leaders chill somewhere else. The people of Palestine are the victims of Hamas and Israel.

Did some Palestinians celebrate Hamas’ actions? Yes. Do I think violence is a last resort? Yes and no. Do I think it’s justified? Yes and no.

Lemme expand on those last two points. I want to be an international human rights attorney someday. The loss of innocent life is always a fucking tragedy that I hope to help prevent or to bring justice for them. I understand violence. I understand why people are so angry. I understand the rage and grief Palestinians feel. 75 years of having their rights stripped away, their homes quite literally occupied, their land and culture chipped away piece by piece, and their children bombed and shot at.

“But how on earth can you think violence is justified if people get hurt!” The American Revolution was an act of violence that got numerous people killed yet you will rarely find someone who won’t justify it. Ukraine defending themselves against Russia wanting their land with no regard to how many Ukrainians they kill is considered justified.

People just seem to focus on the “violence is bad” aspect of things once POC are involved. Yeah, I said it. Americans tired of taxation, of British rule, and of not having their independence causes property damage, argues with soldiers in the streets, and starts a war is okay but when Palestinians do it, it’s a problem? When Black Americans ask to stop being brutalized by the police, it’s a problem? When Black South Africans ask to end an apartheid state, it’s a problem? When Central Americans ask for western nations to stop causing coups that destabilizes their nations, it’s a problem? I could go on.

Yeah, violence is bad. Violence is also the way that a lot of countries are where they are today. Violence is sometimes the only reason why things changed. Violence is enacted on the oppressed everyday yet people only seem to really care once the oppressed fight back.

3. I’m anti-Israel because I don’t agree with the government and the state of Israel. I don’t agree with their 75 years of violent oppression of Palestinians. I don’t agree with their current or past actions. I’m anti-Hamas. I think they’re a vacuous organization that is more focused on getting what they want than considering the consequences of innocent Palestinians.

I’m also really fucking furious at Joe Biden’s insistence that we send aid to Israel. We have given Israel $260 BILLION since 1948. BILLION. And yet we have people dying because they can’t afford healthcare. Students leaving school because they can’t afford tuition. We have 8 year olds in debt because they can’t afford school lunches. The unhoused population is growing rapidly due to the housing crisis. I can sense the unemployment rate creeping higher. I know many people who have lost their jobs this past month alone. We’re days away from another government shutdown and they can’t vote on a speaker.

American politicians would rather send Israel billions more to bomb innocent people than to feed their own citizens. That, in my opinion, is a sort of violence that can never be justified.

#honey.txt #sorry for the essay #but really not sorry #I took a whole class on the global south during the Cold War and it really opened my eyes #granted my specialization is Central America but plot twist #America has been at the center of fucking stuff up there too

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nerdygaymormon · 5 months

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Hey, I just wanted to thank you. There's no need to post this or respond to it, I just wanted you to know that I've been having trouble with faith, especially concerning the Church's stance on LGBTQ+ folks, and stumbling across your blog has helped me a lot. Knowing that there is a community of queer folks who actively exercise faith despite a church that seems to, at best, ignore their very existence is incredibly heartwarming to me and helps me see that if you can still believe and exercise faith that things will get better, so can I. So thank you, from the bottom of my soul.

This is such a kind note. Thank you! I'm glad you stumbled across my blog.

From what you wrote, I understand you're not queer. I'd like to share a bit about what it's like to be a queer believer.

The queer individuals I know who stay in this faith, they fight to do so. They don't passively receive what is handed down to them from our leaders as though they are guests receiving what is served to them. Instead, they take ownership of their faith. They have to decide that faith is important to them and why, they examine what has been taught over the years and decide what is meaningful to them and what they can discard, they seek their own relationship with the Divine. They are active participants in their own faith.

In the Book of Mormon's allegory of a vineyard, the tree and its branches represent Christ's people. It seems that the trees in the center of the vineyard get a lot of attention, they are pruned and nourished repeatedly. But it feels like those of us on the perimeter of the vineyard don't get much attention.

Those in the center, they get told of what great blessings in heaven await them, but us on the perimeter are given far fewer promises, we don't get the same encouragement & incentives. For example, if you're a cisgender straight person and you get married, you can be together forever and have eternal increase. That's terrific, but what about the rest of us, what do we get to look forward to?

Because we've had to fight to remain even though we're on the perimeter, we have learned many valuable things. For example, to be a queer believer is to have a testimony of the expansiveness of God's love. To me, it seems many Mormons have eternal marriage as the focus of their religious devotion, everything is about that. Even Christ gets reduced to being a tool that lets them be together with the person they love. For queer believers who don't have that option, Christ is the focus, knowing and becoming like Christ is the goal. That makes for a different experience.

Matthew 20 has a parable about workers. Some get hired early in the morning, some at mid-morning, and more get hired in the afternoon. They're each told what wages they'll receive if they'll go work in the vineyard. Then there's the final group of workers who before the workday is over, the landowner comes along and finds them and says to get on over to his vineyard and work. They are not told what wages to expect, but they go in hopes they will be treated fairly as they also need the blessings of a wage. At the end of the day, that final group of workers receives the same payment as the rest, even though none of the other workers think that's fair or right.

I feel like queer believers are like that last group of workers who trust God and believe we'll be treated fairly even as they're told by others that we don't qualify for all the blessings that they'll get. Also, the work done by all those who were hired before wasn't enough, that final group of workers was needed. In the same way, the church and other believers need queer folks and what we can contribute, the work is incomplete without us.

Here's the thing, to fight over a long period of time requires nourishment, we won't last long without that. We also need a community of support. There are online communities where we find each other. More and more we're seeing people start groups in their stake or ward, even if just an informal "let's all get together each month at my home." Consequently we're seeing more queer believers stick around because we're finding ways to meet our needs that weren't being met by the institution.

Okay, this is a response you didn't ask for, but I hope understanding our experience will give you insight into how you can become an active participant in your own faith journey.

#queerstake

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nualaofthefaerie · 26 days

Text

Holding Hands

Pairing: Death of the Endless x Wanda

Content: SFW

Type: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, a little bit of both

Content warnings: death (what a surprise)

Author's note: I wrote this in haste. I was entirely possessed by the concept so I rushed to write. Death x Wanda are my top wlw ship and I hope you all will see my vision.

It felt rather numb.

Wanda had always imagined death to be painful - stabbing through one’s soul, tearing at it, then gnawing it until there was nothing left. Life had certainly made her believe so. And death was supposed to be far worse.

In life she had to forge a path for herself, by herself. No one really gave her another choice and she certainly was not going to give those she left behind the satisfaction of complaining. Although she probably should have done so. If she had shouted, if she had resisted, created a mess, they would have had no other choice but to acknowledge her existence.

“Ts.” Her tongue clicked as she hovered over her aunt, crying through gritted teeth. “As if you ever cared.”

It was utterly grotesque to watch all of these people who had decided to burn their bridges with her, now mourn over her grave.

“That’s not even my grave!” she threw her hands in the air. “Alvin Mann is who you assholes are grieving!”

“I do not think they can hear you.”’

Wanda had indeed imagined death to be painful. But she was beautiful. She had a warm smile on her face and an awfully every day New Yorker look about her. The weather was nothing less but suffocatingly hot, yet Death wasn’t even sweating in her leather ensemble.

“I know you, yet I am sure we’ve never met.” Wanda’s brows gathered at the tips.

“We have.” Death laughed. “We have met so many times, Wanda. You are a rather reckless one.”

Wanda retreated back into the green fields away from her own funeral. No, Alvin’s funeral.

“Well, I do not remember you then.”

“Of course.” The tiny wrinkles around Death’s eyes raised and Wanda’s heart, although now certainly dead, skipped a beat. For all that had changed throughout the years the one thing that never truly did was Wanda’s affinity for falling in love with women out of her league. She’d reckon Death was at the top of that list. “Back at the Marquee a few years ago, in that bathroom-“

Wanda’s heart sank. She remembered the night at the Marquee well. Barbie had left for a few days and without her constant supervision, the anxiety had gotten the better of her and Wanda had fallen into old habits, habits she wasn’t particularly proud of.

“They said I was supposed to be dead then, you know.” Wanda sat down in the grass.

“You were.” Death nodded, sitting next to her. “I was supposed to take you away that night.”

“Do you do that for all of us? Take us away?”

“Well, I am a notoriously hard worker.” Death laughed, pulling out a pair of Ray Ban sunnies. “But yes, I try to be there for all of you. If I cannot, I have a small, but diligent group of helpers and subsets of my existence that will take care of any abnormalities…” she stopped mid sentence, turned her head to one side and laughed again. “Except a few special abnormalities. The universe can become a bit boring if we are all to constantly play by the rules, which is why I took you to the hospital instead of taking you with me. You were not completely gone then, so I was presented a choice and I took it.”

“Why?” Wanda interrupted her.

“Why not?” Death’s chin rose to the skies, satisfied with her vague answer.

“I died anyways.” Wanda shrugged.

“We will all die anyway.”

“Even you?”

“Well…I think so, yes.” Death’s booth dug into the dirt, but she kept looking at Wanda. The dead girl

“And who will take you?”

“You are a very nosy one, do you know that?”

Wanda tried picking up a flower but her fingers slipped through it like wind.

“Ha. Yeah, I do actually. At least Barbie always said that I ask too many questions.” Wanda then grew quiet, looking over the splash of black across the green field. Barbie was nowhere to be seen. Did she even know Wanda had died? Had anyone told the only person who was going to mourn Wanda as opposed to whoever’s body was in that damn coffin, she had died? The sun didn’t feel so warm anymore. “You know I always thought death would be painful.”

“Well, I do try to be gentle with you all. Frankly, I’m not even the scariest one of us all.”

“Us?”

“Not of importance.” Wanda nodded distractedly. She was still thinking about Barbie. “It is not so bad. I have seen deaths with a lot less…turnout.”

Wanda shook her head.

“It’s empty to me.”

“You should not leave this world filled with resentment.” Death’s smile dropped. “It’s not good for you.”

Wanda’s blood boiled at the thought. Her head turned sharply to the beautiful, but cruel Death.

“And how else am I supposed to leave? How else are we supposed to leave? I don’t owe them my forgiveness. They are not even here for me! They finally get to mourn the man they wanted but never got! I bet some of them are even glad I’m dead! They won’t have to give anyone awkward pauses anymore after someone asks them ‘And how is Alvin?’.” her jaw clenched. “And it is not only me! There are thousands, millions of people probably who feel the same as I do – abandoned, lonely, ostracised for nothing more than being ourselves. Yet, I am the one who should bestow them my forgiveness?!”

Death’s silence was deafening. She turned her gaze upon the crowd gathered around the Catholic priest whose voice raised above the hills. Quiet hiccups and sharp whispers carried through the winds all the way to Death’s ears. Her sigh sent a chill through the spine of every living creature.

“You are right.” She said at the end with all the seriousness in the world. “They do not deserve your forgiveness. But if your soul is not restful, I cannot take you.”

“Then don’t.”

“That is worse.” Death grabbed her hand. It was warm. Especially for a ghost. “Listen to me. You need to. Not for them. For you.”

“I can’t.” Wanda whispered. “I can’t just leave and let them win.”

Death kept her rules simple. She was not to get attached by any means to anyone, ever. Morpheus’ romantic frivolities were fascinating to watch, no doubt, but they were nothing she could afford. She was the eldest. She held it together so Destiny could remember. Simple. It was simple. That is how an eternity of existence had passed. Death worked alone. It was not her job to fix humanity, it was her job to observe, to learn and take. Enough cheaters existed already.

“You have to.” She whispered back. “I do not wish for you to feel pain.”

Enough cheaters, indeed. Yet, Death found herself holding Wanda’s hand tightly, her eyes firmly set on Wanda’s that shone in a dashing hazel colour. If she had a heart, the woman’s conviction and will would have certainly made it skip a beat. But she didn’t. Death was self aware enough to recognize attraction. She had very rarely felt it herself, but it was not as if she could ever act upon it. ‘Fucking a ghost is like a therapist fucking their client.’ She thought to herself. Still, her ether was moved.

‘There are enough exceptions. Enough cheaters.’ She was reminding herself like a mantra, hoping it would return her own unwavering principles. It did not. It only made her hold onto the dead woman even tighter (if that was even possible).

Then Wanda jumped, pulling up Death with her.

“Barbie!” Emerging from the pit of black clad mortals, was a woman, holding onto the arm of a man Wanda recognized in an instant. “The Mister!” she shouted, looking at Death. “I know this man.”

“I am sure you do.” Death nodded.

“No. I know him. I worked for him when I died.”

“I know.” Death sighed at the sight of her brother.

Morpheus, gallantly dressed as ever, was accompanying Barbie to the Wanda’s grave. His head turned towards the hill only once. He nodded, silently, as he usually did, then turned and re-engaged in a conversation with Barbie.

“I didn’t know they were acquaintances.”

“They are not. Barbie knows him as much as you know me.”

“Who is he really?”

“My stupid idiot of a brother.” Death turned her head to one side again. Wanda couldn’t tell if she did that when she was curious or agitated.

“So he can see us then?”

“Oh, yes. Even if he doesn’t want to.”

“And Barbie?” she asked, filled with hope, quickly shattered by Death’s gentle shake. “I understand.” The words forced themselves past her lips.

A shout interrupted the solemn conversation. Her aunt was shouting at Barbie, who wore the most outraged look on her face.

“You will not besmirch Alvin’s name with your lies!”

“Her name was Wanda.” Barbie’s shout far surpassed anything Wanda’s aunt could muster. She could always outshout anyone, Wanda smiled remembering all the times she had found that trait annoying. Now it felt more than welcomed. “She was a kind, understanding woman, who had all her life in front of her. She only ever did that stupid job because of you!”

“Now,you-“ the old woman raised her hand, prepared to strike Barbie for all her disobedience, but it never landed.

“I would advise against such displays of unnecessary violence.”

Death’s brother, that weird tall and lanky mister, sounded menacing. Wanda swore he did not sound like that mere days ago. The aunt let go without further fuss. The coffin was slid into the ground, covered with dirt and that was it. The crowd dispersed with no excitement, only exacerbated sighs and puffy from crying eyes.

Wanda could not help but roll her own. Death chuckled, then offered her hand once more.

“Come on. I will re-introduce you to him.”

Wanda took it, no questions asked. She thought she would take it dead or alive. Oh, how much she wished she could tell Barbie about this beautiful woman; the young divorcee would certainly find the story amusing.

“Brother!” Death led Wanda by the hand back down the hill and into the crowd.

“Sister.” His response was far calmer than the excited shout of Death and her waving. “Excuse me, miss Barbara.”

“Of course.” Barbie nodded in both directions, sniffling quietly under her nose.

“Wanda?” Death placed her other hand on her shoulder, but Wanda did not move. She watched as Barbie rubbed her tears away violently, smudging her intricate makeup; fell to her knees, while her white stocking rolled in the dirt; pulled out Wanda’s favourite lipstick – a decade old Mac in bright, bright pink, and with all the love in the world dragged it across Alvin Mann’s name, writing “Wanda” instead. Nothing more, just Wanda.

“I love you.” Barbie’s jaw was clenched, but she continued talking. “You were the closest I had ever had to a soulmate. I still think Ruby might have been a better name, but you loved Wanda too much. So, Wanda, don’t you dare leave me, you hear me?! In spirit, as a ghost, whatever. Don’t leave before I leave.” Barbie got up, dusted herself off and without saying goodbye, left.

Wanda couldn’t bear to look after her, but she did feel anger rise in her.

“I deserve my goodbye.” She turned her head to the Endless.

“You get what everyone gets, dear.” Death smiled quietly. “Nobody ever gets to settle all of their affairs.”

“I am not talking to you.” The curls on Wanda’s head bounced as she turned to the King of Dreaming. “You. I am dead because of you.”

Death barely contained the delightful laugh about to escape her. How full of surprises can a ghost be?

“One does not fare well exploiting me.” Death’s brother looked down upon her. For a moment Wanda felt fear, then remembered she is already dead and there was nothing more that could happen to her anyways. So she put her hands on her hips, looked up and with a silent pout demanded. He looked sternly over his sister. “Will you intervene, sister?”

“No.” Death trailed unsure. She felt herself tapping in waters unknown even to her. “I do not think I will, actually.”

The man sighed.

“Your punishment of me is wholly unnecessary.”

“I am not punishing you, Dream.” Death put her hands in her pockets, intrigued to see where the conversation went.

“Hey. I am still here. Here’s what – you let me say my goodbyes with whatever magic is it you have, and I don’t blame you for the rest of eternity.” Wanda held her own. She imagined the stronger she appeared the easier it was going to be convincing the man of her wishes. “All I want, Dream, is to say goodbye.” She bawled her hands in fists, but still refused to look away.

‘I will not die out quietly. I will not.’ Wanda repeated to herself, time and time again.

“Perhaps, I can offer you a different solution.” Dream began with composure. Death knew what he was about to do. He had the habit of picking up strays and she watched them all grow utterly devoted to him, each in their own way, but they were a loyal, close knitted group. She imagined Wanda amongst them. She didn’t like that thought. Her ether was pricked, she felt it as it twisted and turned in a knot.

For the first time in a long, long, long time Death felt the universe come out of its axis, as realisations she had hoped to never think of in their entirety clouded her judgement.

“He can offer you a goodbye, but that would be followed by servitude. I…” what was she doing? “I can offer you something better. You don’t want to go yet, do you?”

“Not if it can be helped.”

“It can be. I need…assistance moving souls from one place to another; delivering some messages of fright and finding missing souls.” She did not look at her brother in that moment, but Death certainly felt his almost mocking gaze upon her. ‘He will never let me live this down.’

“Alright.” Wanda nodded with no hesitation, grabbing onto Death’s hand.

“It is not a job for kind people.”

“I think I will fit the role of a mean ghost quite well.” Wanda rushed to lock their arms, giddy. Frankly, she thought Barbie would understand the desire to follow Death into…well, death, but more importantly she wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Barbie quite yet. She could spent her time with the most beautiful, kind woman to exist and love her from afar, even possibly from up close, while waiting for her soulmate.

“I think so too.” Death whispered.

“Very well, then. Where do we begin?”

“I need to bid my brother farewell.”

“Of course.” She unwrapped herself from Death, pointing at the hill. “I will wait for you there, okay?”

“Yeah.” Death nodded.

Wanda ran, while Death remained, her nightly shadow behind her.

“Do not say anything.”

“I do find it especially amusing considering your strict convictions.”

“Morpheus?”

“Sister.”

“Zip it.”

Morpheus offered a coy smile.

“It is a refreshing moment, indeed.”

“Do you feel vindicated?”

“Very much so. Enjoy the misery of these humane feelings you love talking about so much, big sister. You will quickly find out, they do leave scars.” He finished on a sour note.

“Okay, okay. Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then go.” Death pulled his ear. “Get out of here.”

“Will you not ask me how she died?”

“No. I do not wish to know. I do not wish to be part of this concoction that is you and Delirium. It is too much. Even for me.”

“Very well, then. Good day sister.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving behind only the ghost of Wanda, who was smiling and waving as if she had been offered a whole new life.

“Come on!”

Death smiled and waved back.

She was perhaps allowed to cheat herself once in a while.

AN: I hope you enjoyed that. I am unsure whether I would do this again, probably not simply because I do wish to keep my blog exclusively about Nuala, however @orionsangel86 offered me kindness in the last week that I am eternally grateful for. So this is my present for them.

#death #death of the endless #death appreciation week #the sandman comic #the sandman #the sandman fic #death fic #wanda #wanda the sandman #death x wanda #sandman angst #sandman fluff #sandman wlw #wlw #wlw fic

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soulsongplays · 2 months

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Alright I'm currently brainrotting about a homebrew World of Darkness setting based on Project Zomboid that I'm calling "Kentucky by Night," which is basically just "What if the World of Darkness was in the middle of a really slow zombie apocalypse?" It originally started as an excuse to use the Project Zomboid Map Project for battlemaps because I didn't want to have to draw any more environments and I got carried away, here's a list of fun facts about the setting:

Most Werewolves believe that the Knox Infection (the zombie virus) is a product of the Wyrm's tampering, likely related to vampires, and as such they have acted as wilderness zombie hunters since the infection began.

Vampires initially assumed they were immune to the Knox Infection on account of also being undead, and while a zombie bite won't infect them, kindred who regularly feed on zombies, intentionally or not, will begin to rot and hunger, eventually losing themselves to The Beast.

The Technocracy created both the infection and the vaccine that grants immunity to it's airborne strain, but despite accidentally releasing the infection they insisted on holding back the vaccine because "the world wasn't quite ready for it"

Werewolves are immune to the Knox Infection, but still vulnerable to the Wyrm's spiritual corruption, meaning Zombie Werewolves are totally a thing

Vampiric plague-spreading cults began to form, insisting that zombies were like their brethren, and Vampires should aid them in infecting the world. These cults continue to exist to this day, considered an enemy of both the Anarchs and Camarilla. The Sabbat aren't too sure about them.

The Technocracy created a drug called "Zombrex" that is capable of delaying the effects of the Knox Infection, though no permanent cure has been found as the infection rapidly mutates. Zombrex is not available to the public, as they are not ready for it.

Werewolf magic users (I don't remember what they are called) are actually capable of curing the Infection via. cleansing the spiritual corruption caused by the disease, though they refuse to do this for non-werewolves.

The Technocracy is actually struggling to regain a foothold in the NUSA, the union of once-american governments formed since the collapse of the USA, as a result of a resurgence of magic during the Knox Event. it turns out people were a lot more willing to believe anything can happen mid-apocalypse, and cults across the NUSA are pushing back against Technocratic influence since the whole debacle with holding the vaccine they'd already had because 'the world wasn't ready for it.'

A Vampire Zombie can, eventually, recover from the Knox Infection- though there is only one case of a Kindred doing so, and it took nearly a decade of being staked and bathed in fresh blood as their body regenerated.

There are two tribes who willingly underwent the zombie transformation, becoming one of the first unique zombie types- the Zombie Werewolf. These Zombie Werewolves still retain some of their intelligence despite their undeath, and all of the strengths of a werewolf, making them one of the most dangerous things in existence.

One of the nations in the NUSA is actually run by mages, occupying a region that was once Utah a group of radical Mormon Mages spread some of the subtler secrets of magic to chosen followers, giving them a step up when compared to the other nations.

I am so excited to finish the worldbuilding and actually run a game in this setting, but I'm worried I won't be able to publicize anything because I have blatantly stolen a lot of stuff from various pieces of media. I might write something up anyway.

#world of darknes #wod #vampire the masquerade #werewolf the apocalypse #mage the ascension #kentucky by night #project zomboid

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qqueenofhades · 1 year

Note

Okay – so! Thank you for all that you do for fandom and The History side of tumblr- it’s a LOT.

I’m struggling with mapping a historical accuracy/fanon vs. canon concept. I hope you can help me untangle my thoughts on this. Diverse representation in media is very important to me; and I’m also aware of the damage that the ‘colour-blind’ casting can do. So! I’m trying to reconcile a common fandom perception that Hob Gadling is of South-East Asian decent. (I know that Ferdie is!- I also have seen zero evidence that he claims Desi Diaspora as part of his identity. It makes me really uncomfortable that fandom might be projecting their desire for ‘Representation’ onto a man who lives outside his ancestral culture.)

What I do know is that Hob is a medieval freeman (?) from the south of England in the 1300s. I wonder at the possibility of his CHARACTER being of mixed race? I know that Briton and Europe and Africa were in trade. I know that People of colour moved freely around the continents!

I’ve done some research into London population polls from the time, but I’m not certain of their degree of accuracy/usefulness. They describe immigrants as ‘aliens’.. and most I’ve seen are European. I haven’t even come across evidence of Muslim or ‘Moorish’ people settling in London???!

The written history I’ve read tells me the Europeans didn’t establish trade with India until the mid 1400s. (How it’s possible they didn’t know about each other is Baffling and seems impossible??) Anyway. The crux of the matter is: would Hob Gadling possibly been of mixed heritage?

I mean yes, technically, he COULD be. The most logical route for that would be to give him some family heritage from somewhere in Spain, or Iberia, which was a fully mixed-race society until well into the 13th/14th century, and was in regular trade and communication with England. The medieval Iberian Christian kingdoms of Castile-León, Aragon, and Navarre particularly were close trading partners and English/Iberian royalty married each other fairly often. It was somewhat less the case by the time Hob was born in the 1350s, but there is certainly enough previous contact to make it feasible. Muslims, Christians, and Jews all lived in Iberia (how much they all co-existed has long been one of the most debated questions in religious/historical studies), and Muslims had a presence in Spain for over 700 years, since the first arrivals in 711 CE following the collapse of the Umayyad dynasty in Baghdad, until their final expulsion under Ferdinand and Isabella in 1492.

The question, however, is if he SHOULD be headcanoned or identified as mixed-race, and while I am the least fandom-policey person ever and respect people's right to enjoy their own ideas in peace, it personally makes me a little uncomfortable. It feels related to the "fandom activism!" mindset where you should ship a more Morally Pure OTP, or your favorite is "better" if they can be somehow identified with a marginalized group, regardless of whether this fits or makes sense for the character. And in this case, Hob’s background as a good-looking white British bloke with an appropriately English-sounding name, as I describe him in AITWW, is central to both his character arc, his major mistakes, and how he has to learn and grow over time. It was absolutely vital to me that in AITWW, he had to explicitly confront the massive amounts of unearned privilege that he enjoyed over the centuries by being born into that body, and how it would be very different for him if he hadn't been. As his friend Julia puts it in their discussion in chapter 13, he had the luck to be born into a body that society automatically privileges and values and places into positions of power whether or not he deserves it, and as a black woman, she thinks immortality sounds absolutely awful. Why would she want to put up with the absolute shit it would be to live 600 years, at least in the Western world/America/Europe, in that embodiment?

Likewise, Hob agrees and admits that of course it's easy for him to want to live forever and maintain enthusiasm for life, because whatever difficulties he has faced, his race and gender have not contributed to them (which is the essence of white privilege in a nutshell). And of course, the urge to make him mixed-race might reflect some discomfort with his actual canon background and involvement in slavery, no matter if he obviously feels terribly guilty and driven to atone for over 200 years after that (as he SHOULD). In some sense, making him mixed-race might seem to mitigate that or give some reason to make him "sympathetic" while he was doing it, and frankly, I don't think 18th-century Hob deserves to get off the hook for being yet another British white man who might have felt bad about what he was doing at times, but continued to do it anyway. I'm not saying this is anyone's motive or intention, but it does trouble me, especially since Hob’s whiteness, the damage of that whiteness, and the way he has to deliberately and extensively unlearn that urge to just live life on easy mode regardless of the damage it does to others is what I find so interesting about his character. In short, if Hob was part of a racially marginalized group already, he might have made different choices, but he didn't, and now he is forced to literally live with that guilt and shame forever. He doesn't get to exonerate himself, and nor do I do it for him.

Lastly, I think this reflects a very modern and somewhat over-simplified way of thinking; to our modern and institutionally-racist-pickled brains, race is the chief category that can be explicitly constructed as Otherness, and doesn't reflect the very unclear way this was perceived and experienced in the 14th century. I.e., you note that immigrants to England "were mostly European" -- which is true, but does not reflect the dizzying array then as now, in which local, national, ethnic, and religious identities were constructed. One unattractive feature of the English national character over many centuries has been their hostility and distrust of foreigners, and this was especially the case in the 14th and especially late-14th, post-Black Plague society. For example, the Flemish were regarded as "morally inferior" since they ran several well-known brothels and red-light districts in Southwark, across the Thames from London (now part of the city), and that meant they were purveying immorality, rather than being there since the English desired their services. Xenophobia was especially rampant against "strangers" of any type, especially against Jews again post-Black Death for sadly predictable anti-Semitic reasons, and even being from continental Europe would not have made someone "English" in their eyes. Even by the Elizabethan era, it was almost impossible for a foreign-born citizen (or "denizen," meaning something akin to "permanent resident") to get licensed as a guildsman in the city of London, and without that license, you could not run a business, practice a trade, or engage in substantial paid work in any way.

Likewise, medieval notions of race were fluid, uncertain, and often linked to religion more than ethnic origin. There are several Arthurian legendarium reworkings, and epic poems such as The King of Tars, where the "happy" ending is that the mixed-race, Muslim, or black hero is converted to Christianity and abandons whatever untrue pagan religion he has been following before. This is often accompanied with a literal physical transformation turning him from black- or dark-skinned (impure) to white (pure). So yes, racial thinking and categories did exist, but it wasn't seen as fixed or unalterable, and again, wasn't really the first or primary way in which Otherness was constructed (compared to say, "Saracen," which functioned throughout almost the entire medieval era as a marker of difference and had varied racial, religious, sexual, and ethnic connotations, but originally came from the term for Muslims).

So anyway: hopefully that all makes sense and provides some context in both my historical and fandom thinking on the matter. Thanks for the question!

#auressea #ask #hob gadling #history #medieval history #history of racism

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here4kpopfics · 2 years

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Kelly, my love! Congrats on 200 followers! Here's a prompt for you and challenge, pairing is reader x Namjoon 😘 let's make it soft and fluffy. 💖

Person A finds out Person B's wallpaper is a photo of both of them.

This took a turn. SORRY. Also thank you Jess ily 💜

Pairing: Namjoon x reader and platonic yoongi x reader

Genre: Fluff. Humor/Comedy?

AU: Established relationship

Wordcount: 2292

Summary: You can't find your phone so you borrow your boyfriend's and find a picture that you didn't know existed that drags you down memory lane.

Warnings: None really. Reader doesn't appreciate art as much as Namjoon. Yoongi's a secret soft boy. Language.

Rating: PG13

AN: This took a turn. I can't write short things anymore. I'm sorry. This is essentially a step by step walk through that I did at the Met earlier this year just without the boyfriend. and had the same reaction to the pieces reader does. I just miss New York. Enjoy! No beta readers. I kinda edit as I go so no final edits Hope you enjoy! It's finally not Jungkook!💜

Masterlist

“Fuck where did I put you, you stupid expensive piece of metal and plastic?” Sighing in defeat you head to your room and knock on the door to your bathroom where your boyfriend who was just out of the shower.

“Joonie, can I call my phone with yours?“ You think of a weird place in your room and rush over to it. “I can’t find it. I know I left it…somewhere…in the house. I think…” you trail off, turning around in your spot trying to retrace your steps. You’re mid spin when the door opens and your boyfriend leans against the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest.

“You’re going to make yourself sick.” You stop spinning and look at him. Taking a second to admire the lack of clothing, save pajama pants hanging a smidge too low on his hips.

“Damn.” Is all you can say.

“Thank you, I think? Why do you need my phone again?” He hands you his phone anyway and you grab it, still admiring your view.

Oh right. The phone. Your very important phone. “I need to call my phone. I can’t find it.” You quietly admit as you open the phone and are greeted with his lock screen wallpaper. A photo of you and him that you’ve never seen before. “What’s this?” Turning his phone to face him. “When did we take this? That is me right?” You bring the phone back to your face to confirm it’s you and not some random woman standing with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around them admiring your favorite art piece at the Met.

“Alright, where do we want to start?” Your tour guide asks as Namjoon lightly tugs your arm, pulling you back to him as you’re walking forward without looking up, almost running into a group of children. You’re bubbling with excitement, looking over the map. You love the Met. You came once as a kid on vacation to New York with your family and you were in such awe of everything around you, especially the statues and the relics from the past. While the exhibits changed over the decades, you felt the nostalgia all the same.

“I think it’d be cool to start straight away with Modern and Contemporary art. Then we can go from there.” Namjoon sounds so casual about his excitement. Like this was just something he did every day. And it basically was at times. When he had time off, if there was a museum to see, he’d go - no questions asked. It was a little irritating but you understood he had his passions just like you did. You both enjoy art, but completely different styles. Which is why you now have a small pout plastered on your face. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

“Nothing.” You sigh, playing with the corner pieces of the map. “Every time we go to a museum we go straight for modern and contemporary.” you mutter quietly, accepting that this was how it was going to go.

“Where would you like to go, miss? Any particular piece that you want to see?” The tour guide asks and you nearly curl in on yourself. You know your boyfriend didn’t hear you, he’s too tall to hear your mutters sometimes. You didn’t take into account the people around you. You perk your head up, avoiding the look of confusion on your Namjoon’s face. Glancing between the map and the tour guide, you try to come up with something that will make everyone happy when a deeper, bored sounding voice sounds next to you.

“She promised me there was something about musical instruments.” You look up at Yoongi, silently thanking him. You did promise him. Museum dates with Namjoon were great and all, but at times it felt like he was dating the art and you were the third wheel, forced to take photos for his instagram and follow him around looking at art you felt like you were too stupid to understand. So you begged all of the members to come with. Jin said absolutely not. Hobi was going to go shopping in SoHo with Jimin. Tae had some fancy model shoot you didn’t bother asking about. And Jungkook was going to work out all day. You had to bribe Yoongi, going on about the antique musical instruments and the promise of food and caffeine.

Yoongi nods, stuffing one hand in his jacket pockets, leaning over your shoulder to point at the map with the other, outlining a path. “So, what if we start there, I’ll get my fix of this place out of the way, and then we can go through the early European paintings, through the modern and contemporary, back through the recent European art and sculptures, then Greek and Roman art and sculptures, all the way across to Asian art, down to Egyptian art, and then we let y/n have her fun in the arms and armor, medieval art, and the european sculptures and decorative arts. If we want, we can take a look at the American wing and the temporary exhibits after lunch.”

You, Namjoon, and even the tour guide gawk at Yoongi and you smile, looking up at Namjoon who just slowly nods. “Yeah that sounds like a plan.”

“Then shall we go?” The tour guide gestures toward the staircase to the music section and Yoongi follows behind, while Namjoon intertwines his fingers with yours, pulling them to his lips and giving them a kiss before leaning down to whisper to you.

“Is there a reason why hyung decided to come with us?” You shake your head and smile.

“Nope. He’s just been living and breathing work, convinced him to come and see someone else’s art for a bit instead of his own. And antique musical instruments are cool.” He kisses the top of your head before whispering ‘okay’ and you pull him with you to catch up to the others.

You follow Yoongi’s suggested path exactly the way he offered, and it’s the perfect path, honestly. All three of you enjoy the different instruments. Namjoon goes from piece to piece, admiring each one individually and discussing them with the tour guide while you and Yoongi go back and forth from room to room pointing at different instruments, trying to guess what it does, the country it came from, and a very broad guess of the century. You tried to keep your voices down, allowing Namjoon to do his thing, but Yoongi has a warped sense of humor that just clicks with you. So every now and again, one of you will accidentally let out a laugh that is much too audible, causing Namjoon and the tour guide to look at you like you were insane.

You made your way through the planned route. Namjoon was a child in a toy store in the modern and contemporary area. You were the same with the sculptures. Finally, you entered the Asian Art exhibit. This time you and Yoongi actually looked at the art and stayed quiet. You slipped your hand into Namjoon’s as you entered, greeted by a giant mural, about 25 feet tall and double in width, of the Buddha of Medicine Bhaishajyaguru. All three of you looked up in admiration. You mindlessly pulled Namjoon with you so you could get a better look at the details. The tour guide started rattling off the information that was on the plaque card in front of you. You could’ve just read it, but that would mean looking away from it. It’s from 1319, the Yuan dynasty. The canvas is made from clay and straw. Fact after fact, you barely listened. It wasn’t until Namjoon tugged on your hand that you finally looked away and at him. “Are you okay?” he quietly whispers, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. You just nod and smile, oddly feeling emotional.

“I think I get it now.” you whisper back, perking up a bit more.

“Get what?” his head tilts to the side, but he’s holding back a smile.

“I don’t understand modern stuff. I wish I did, baby. I’m sorry. But this? This I get. This is the past. This made it through centuries and is still here today. Look at it. It’s still in relatively amazing condition.” You’re rambling now and neither of you care. He lets you, leading you further into the exhibit, a giant grin on his face, forcing your favorite dimples to be put on display. You travel through the rooms, joining him in going from piece to piece like he’s been doing the entire time, and gasping at every relic you come across. You audibly gasp when you enter a room with only a few pieces, but they were magnificently huge statues of various buddhas. There was a woman in the room sitting on one of the benches. She had a giant drawing pad on her lap and was focusing on one specific statue. As much as you wanted to look into them further, you pulled Namjoon and Yoongi out of the room, the guide following suit, so she could concentrate in peace.

The next room you were taken to was the Korean Art room. Yoongi wandered off to a random piece. You and Namjoon start at the one closest to the door. You stick to this path for a bit until you turn your head to make sure Yoongi doesn't stray too far. But your eyes stop looking when you land on it. You drop Namjoon’s hand from yours and walk away, beelining straight to it. It’s gorgeous. Black with white splattering, yellows, and blues with a hint of red swirling around in the bottom right where it looks like cement underneath. It’s breathtaking.

You’re lost staring at it for who knows how long. You don’t even notice Namjoon wrapping his arms around your waist, prompting you to subconsciously stand on your tippy toes so he can place his head on your shoulder without having to bend down awkwardly. His feet shuffle underneath yours so you can rest them against his while maintaining the extra height. “Something caught your eye, baby?” he asks in a slightly teasing tone. You still don’t respond, eyes following the yellow and blue swirls. So he whispers the plaque card to you before the tour guide can make his way to the both of you. You smile, tears forming in your eyes as you keep staring at it. Your hands made their way to his arms and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“Why am I about to cry?” you whisper, laughing softly.

“Mmm, because you’re feeling the art, jagi. You’re not judging the way it was made or figuring out why it is the way it is. You’re feeling the emotion that was put into it. You get it now? Not like before with the mural. But like really get it?” You nod, hand leaving his arm to try to prevent the tears while chuckling under your breath.

“Yeah. I get it. I love this. I’d hang this up in my apartment…”

“I’ll see if I can get it for you.” Your face turns so fast, thinking he was serious. But instead, you’re met with his big silly grin and those perfect dimples. “I’m kidding. I would if I could, jagi.” You huff, slumping against him as he stands up straight, letting your feet go back down to your normal stance. You rest the back of your head against his chest and sigh. He just chuckles, kissing your head and you both continue to admire the art piece until Yoongi finally reappears, asking if you could do lunch now instead of later.

“So who took this photo?” you’re still looking at it, while remembering what it felt like at that moment to finally understand what your boyfriend would drone on and on about.

“Yoongi did.” He states, grabbing the phone back from you and sitting on your bed, pulling you onto his lap. “He took a bunch that day. He sent them all to me when I had to leave you the next day. See?” He finds an album marked MetDate and starts scrolling through them. There’s you looking at a gothic organ. Namjoon in his signature “looking at art” pose. You and Namjoon holding hands through the Greek statues. An adorable selfie of Yoongi smiling his gummy smile while you two are whispering to one another looking all cutesy in the background. He got the moment when you two stood in front of the Buddha of Medicine Bhaishajyaguru mural and the one that is now his wallpaper. Namjoon with his arms around your waist staring at the only contemporary piece to make you cry. You smile, scrolling through them again.

“Who knew Yoongi was a big softie?” Namjoon tightens his arms around you, kissing your cheek.

“It’s a secret. Don’t tell.”

“I won’t. I want all these photos though. Send them to me. Please?”

“First we need to find your phone, jagi.” You gasp, jumping off his lap.

“Right! The stupid phone! Right right right. Call it please. I’ll go stand in the living room and see if I hear it.” You bolt into the living room and wait for the ring. After a few tries and in different rooms, you finally find it in the pantry next to your cereal. How did it get there? No clue. But the second you found it and did a happy dance, you ran back to your boyfriend now laying on the bed. You jumped onto the bed, curling up into his side and demanded he send you the photos so you could change your wallpaper too.

You also send a text to Yoongi just saying thank you and you appreciate him with no context. His response? “Ew.”

*The art mentioned:

Buddha of Medicine Bhaishajyaguru (Yaoshi fo)

(another angle so you can see the size of it)

The room of varying Buddahs

Perdu X (Sadly no longer on display)

#bangtaninn #btshoneyhive #drabble requests #Namjoon x reader #Kim Namjoon #Namjoon #Namjoon fluff #namjoon fanfiction #Namjoon fic #Namjoon x oc #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts fic #Kelly writes #Kelly posts #Namjoon drabble #Namjoon oneshot #Kim Namjoon drabble #fic: MetDate

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