#and I agree that it certainly isn't a requirement

[loriache]

Butch up that Elf: my Marcille manifesto

TBQH, this came into being because the Falin "dragoness" fanart rewired my brain completely. It's sillytimes, but we're going to make a serious argument: trying out being a little butch would Fix Her.

1. Marcille Gender Discomfort

Now, Marcille LOVES feminity. She loves playing dressup, she loves elaborate gowns, she spends her free time going to the spa - the absolute last thing I want is to deny that. However, there's also a definite vibe that this isn't just a preference. Specifically, the way that she pushes Falin towards femininity suggests that she isn't comfortable with gender nonconformity in the people around her.

If this was something she was 100% confident about ("I'm doing this for myself and nobody else!") surely what other people do wouldn't be a big deal? Of course, you can read this as a little bit of solipsism; "what works for me must work for you too! I think this is so cute and would suit you - wouldn't you agree?"

But for the sake of this argument, all I'm trying to suggest is that gender nonconformity (and probably sexual nonconformity... well, frankly, any kind of sexuality at all) is unlikely to be something that's on Marcille's "radar". She hasn't tried out other ways of presenting and decided she doesn't like them. I do think she'd be a very flamboyant butch - "ouji lolita" vibes, you know? It's a whole new set of wardrobe options she could play dress-up in, even.

After the story ends, she starts dressing like her mother in all black, which makes sense - her mother was also a court magician, so she's probably emulating her in order to project confidence and authority. But I can't say I think she should stick with this. Break away and be your own person, Marcille! Try a fancy waistcoat and frilled jacket!

2. Haircut

This is another potential hard sell, I'm sure. The people she loves doing her hair is a cute symbol of their care for her, and her hair is key to her magic - so there's plenty of reason for her to keep it long. But like... think practically. Having someone do your hair every morning, for the whole of her long life, while it gets messier over the day (because she can't remember to keep it neat)... That's got to be such a pain. My hair gets messy when I put a hoodie on. And I have short hair.

It would require her to go through a change of mind, and probably a little more growth in how secure she feels in her relationships, but - the hairdo's a symbol. The more important thing is the relationships themselves. Eventually I think there might be something liberating about cutting it off, even if she might eventually decide to grow it out again.

The lion, her trauma, took something away from her which was really important to her. The people around her are able to make that easier, and make up for it, and soften that loss, but... Mithrun isn't the person he was before, you know? He's a new person. The relationship he has with his brother is new, and I don't know if it's one that the person he was before could have had. If Falin hadn't died, they wouldn't have gone on that wonderful adventure! They wouldn't have met Senshi or saved Izutsumi and Laios and Marcille wouldn't have gotten so close. So I think it's totally congruent with the themes of the story that the burning away of this part of Marcille's self might eventually create the potential for new growth in a new direction, not clinging onto the parts that are gone.

This also isn't totally out of the norm for elven mages - both Otta and Flamela have short hair. Otta is canonically butch, and potentially Flamela reads that way to elves too, but the point is it clearly is possible to be an accomplished mage without long hair.

3. Desiring (to be) a chivalrous prince

Marcille's succubus is clearly General Halleus from her favourite book series, the Daltian Clan. The fact that this is her ideal man.... it certainly plays into readings of her as Not Straight. But at least, this conveys the way her conception of sex and romance is strongly idealised, dissociated from the bodily and from physical desire.

There are many ways to interpret that, including thinking about what types of desire this fixation is obstructing because she is not comfortable with it, but I am going to focus here on what this desire does signify. She likes the trappings of courtly romance, and is clearly comfortable putting herself in the role of the princess, being taken away on a white horse by a noble (but tormented; eyepatch has "death" on it lmao) prince. (Though I think he's actually the token male lead who isn't royalty; he's a General. There's always one in Romfan, lmao. IYKYK)

A kiss on the hand - this is so chaste, I think it's clear it's more about desire to play a role in a dynamic than it is about desire in a physical sense. There is undoubtedly a big part of Marcille that wants to be a beloved and chased-after princess, but I think it isn't at all impossible that she'd also enjoy being the powerful, cool, and chivalrous "prince" to someone (a pretty girl, perhaps) who needs her protection.

This is a little silly, because it's clearly just aping the shoujo artstyle that articulates basically the same idea as her succubus, that Marcille is attached to highly abstracted and idealised romantic (and Romantic) tropes and ideas. But the imaginary "successful" Marcille from chapter 4 looks quite similar to her succubus. (Another thing I noticed is that in the fantasy she has sharp ears... like full elves have. Despite what she says, I think the cultural messaging that this trait is "attractive" and hers are inferior got to her at least a bit. 😥)

Also, the way that she treats Falin, scolding her indulgently, trying to look after her and wanting to be looked up to and respected by her... that aligns more with the "masculine" role in the trope that her succubus is referencing. "What are we going to do with you...?" I can imagine her saying this to Falin, word for word. Whereas, if anyone real started talking down to her, even affectionately, I don't think she'd like it, given the negative way she reacts when people don't respect her or her skills. Especially after canon, given the way the Winged Lion was treating her.

Her attitude to Falin is partially down to her reluctance to acknowledge Falin as an adult, who is independent and can grow beyond her and leave her behind. But I think even as they move on from that unhealthy dynamic, Marcille is still going to get pleasure from feeling capable, reliable, able to look after and protect Falin. She'd like to pull the chair out for her in a restaurant on a date, you know?

4. Conclusion

Even after the growth she goes through during the story, there are parts of Marcille's character that are very much obstructed. Romance, sexuality, and gender, feel like one of those to me. The way that her discomfort with the messy origins of food betrayed a deeper, more significant discomfort with the cycles of life and death.

Much in the same way, I'd argue that the simplified, idealistic, and safely fantastical way that she views romance, as well as her very "safe" gender presentation and tendency to push it onto others as well, suggest an underlying discomfort in her own gender and sexuality. The character growth she goes through leaves her in a place where it may be possible to safely re-evaluate her relationship with Falin, as well as her choice of clothing and hairstyle, both things that go through a change at the end of the manga. Neither, I think, reach a sustainable stopping point that we see - there will be a point when it's more servants doing her hair than friends, just out of practicality, because they're all going to be so, so busy. The black clothing to copy her mum is cute, but once she gets some more self-confidence in her own skills as a court magician, I think she'll move on from it. And... who knows what direction her relationship with Falin will develop, over the years? I'm rooting for them, anyway.

In all those cases, I think moving outside of the things she's done before, into something really different from the things that are "safe" and expected, will be the most rewarding path for her. Like in the dungeon, things that she would initially reject were actually able to sustain her and broaden her tastes. She loves dressing up, looking after people, and "princely romance". So I say: Butch Marcille! It'll be good for her!!

[reading-comp-posting]

Have you ever considered using AI tools to assist with writing your responses?

Well no, because I'm doing this blog for fun. I'm enjoying writing out reading comprehension questions for posts, so why would I automate that away?

But let's say that I saw myself as some sort of arbitor of reading comprehension who needs to post as much as possible to enlighten the lowly tumblr masses. Let's say that I'm interested in upping my output of questions by any means necessary.

I opened up chatgpt and input a certain request, which would hopefully make it write questions about the last post I responded to:

Write reading comprehension questions about a Tumblr post, written by a user named "echoeyee," that reads as folows: "my take on shipping aromantic characters is that if you're aro you get to do whatever you want and if you're not you have to write me a three page essay 12 pt font times new roman double spaced explaining in detail why you believe entering a romantic relationship would be an interesting and worthwhile storyline for the character and how you believe their aromanticism would affect the way they experience said relationship"

And it certainly did write a lot of questions about it. Let's go through them, one by one.

1. What is the primary stance expressed by the Tumblr user "echoeyee" regarding shipping aromantic characters?

This one is good. If you look at the set I wrote, my first one is basically the same, just with different words and a less formal tone.

2. According to the post, what conditions must non-aromantic individuals fulfill if they wish to advocate for romantic storylines involving aromantic characters?

Again, this one is good. It's basically my 3rd question but, yet again, more formal.

3. Describe the format and specifications outined for the essay mentioned in the post.

This is the part where the questions get bad. The exact details of the essay are irrelevant, other than the fact that they imply a formal, academic setting.

4. In your own words, explain the user's perspective on the autonomy of aromantic individuals in contrast to non-aromantic individuals when it comes to shipping characters.

This question seems to genuinely be a product of chatgpt pissing on the poor. The purpose of the post (and specifically the essay within) is to ask people who ship aromantic characters without being aromantic themself to consider said character's aromanticism instead of erasing it.

Meanwhile, chatgpt seems to think that the OP thinks that people who aren't aromantic should be forced by law or something to write an essay if they want to ship an aromantic character.

5. How does the Tumblr post reflect the user's views on representation and storytelling in relation to aromantic characters?

I think that this one is a bit too speculative, but it does actually relate to the OP's intended takeaway.

6. Discuss the potential implications of the requirements set forth in the post for writers and creators in the realm of fiction and fanworks.

This one is just a bit confusing. Chatgpt seems to be going off the assumption that OP is issuing a decree as the emperor of the world.

7. Reflect on whether you agree or disagree with the sentiments expressed in the post and provide reasons to support your viewpoint.

This could have been a "discuss with a mutual" question, and I actually did initially write a question like this one, but I ended up removing it.

Aromantiscism is already controversial enough and I fear that a discussion of whether OP's take on shipping aromantic characters is valid could quickly devolve into discussion on whether aromanticism itself is valid.

8. How might the user's approach impact discussions and representations of aromanticism in media and popular culture?

Yet again, chatgpt is taking the essay thing way too literally. Yes, forcing every single writer who isn't aromantic but wants to ship an aromantic character to write an essay about it would most likely lead to a decrease in people erasing their identities, but the essay isn't the point.

9. Consider the broader societal and cultural context in which this post is situated. How might prevailing attitudes towards romantic relationships influence reactions to the user's perspective?

Obviously historical context is important to keep in mind when you're reading/listening to/watching/whatever a text, but this question has almost nothing to do with reading comprehension. You need to understand the post to imagine how people would react, sure, but understanding how people would react to the post doesn't help you understand this post very much.

10. What insights can be gleaned from this post regarding the importance of diverse and inclusive storytelling in media and creative works?

This could be a discuss with a mutual question. The issue is that it's a bit to broad of a topic.

[faeriekit]

Snowdrift Sanctuary

a phic phight fill for sapphireshield (who isn't on tumblr)

“Is this alright?” Phantom asked quietly, blunt human face pressed into the ruff of his new coat.

There was nothing wrong, but that wasn’t the issue; the human needed reassurance, and reassurance Frostbite could provide.

“Of course,” Frostbite agreed easily, if gently. “Neuschnee made it for you. It was always intended to be yours.”

Humans tended to be sensory-seeking. With no fur of their own, and sensitive skin and hands, they had the ability to physically feel more through touch than his people could. The paw of Frostbite’s remaining arm was tough, callused from work and combat; but the human could swab his face across the ruff and sleeves of his coat and receive textural information that was entirely alien to the yeti mind.

Frostbite would have to ensure that the boy had gloves. It would be a shame if his hypersensitive hands were made damaged by the cold.

“...But,” the boy tried, and to his credit, his concern was sympathetic. “Wouldn’t someone else need the fur? Like, even if you have your own fur…wouldn’ it make a good blanket? Or…something…?”

Petting, for humans, thankfully, seemed to work exactly as it did for his kin. Sure, Frostbite had to be more gentle with his claws, but combing through and smoothing down the human’s black spot of hair was more than enough for the endorphins to kick in. Oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin would require further study, but the base understanding of hormones were easy to understand: skin on skin contact equalled a well-adjusted human adolescent.

Phantom’s eyes drooped. Frostbite smiled to himself. The sight was identical to Salju’s cubs settling down before a nap.

“We are not low on resources,” Frostbite soothed, half-purring. It was an immature noise, but conducive to soothing distressed young. “We are not hungry. We are prosperous, and require little; as an adept living with our people, we would be remiss not to provide for you.”

…The human’s nose crinkled.

“It is our job to give you things so that you do not fade,” Frostbite clarified.

Phantom’s face flushed a warm red. The adolescent’s half-human biology was fascinating.

And, true, it would probably be easier to care for Phantom if he remained in his ghostly form all the time, but it would be unfair and dangerous for his long-term development to force him to do so. Phantom was a half-human, and deserved to spend time adjusting to all of his forms. Neuschnee had already begun working on the human’s boots; soon he would no longer be confined only to Frostbite’s warmed residence. With a thick hood and gloves to cover his extremities, Frostbite had little doubt that the human would soon be wrestling with (gentle) age-mates, practicing his English with his sister’s pilfered human texts, and learning how to control his snow.

Phantom was very small. He was very delicate, and there was an instinct in Frostbite that continued to worry that handling him wrong might snap the human in half. A yeti at Phantom’s height would still be a very young cub, and yet twice as sturdy and twice as broad.

Still, he was a bright, kind being, and… Frostbite sighed. And he had no understanding of why the human’s parents had rejected him for his current state.

And, certainly, his human sister had tried to explain it to him, bundled in three coats and her red nose weeping in the cold as she begged for his sanctuary. The prospect was merely mind-boggling to him. Young were rare and precious. Their natures were never guaranteed. What was the use of rejecting a cub you had spent a decade raising?

…Frostbite exhaled carefully out his nose. It was not his job to understand their attitude. It was only his role to act in their place until the half-human came of age.

“You don’t have to,” Phantom muttered, face a curious shade of red. Having red internal fluids made for interesting displays of emotion. “I…I can work it off, or…”

Frostbite continued petting the human. The human did not continue speaking.

“Or,” Frostbite continued kindly, “You may join Pritla, Nieve and I, and assist us in devouring a nice, cold, glacier shark. We buried it last season, so it is no longer toxic to digest outright.”

Phantom snorted out a laugh. Yes, there would be human-appropriate food available for him, but Frostbite was not joking about the shark. Now that the toxins had drained into the soil for months, he was happy to take his turn ripping huge chunks of flesh with his teeth for an evening meal. And, who knows; perhaps the enrichment value of consuming a fermented shark with one's bare hand would pique Phantom’s interest in other traditional foods?

“Will there be silverware?” Phantom asked, teasing. He accepted Frostbite’s proffered hug, engaging in sensory-seeking activity in the same way he had with his new coat. Frostbite was ecstatic.

“Of course not,” Frostbite rumbled, more than pleased. “Use of weaponry during mealtimes is explicitly cheating. Now, are you comfortable defending your plate from younger cubs, or should I shield you with my body?”

Frostbite might not have felt prepared to care for Phantom, but raising a half-human would undoubtedly be a fascinating experience.

Besides; unlike mortal parents, the burden of keeping Phantom alive was already largely moot.

[blarshwritezz]

Could you write a yandere worshipper with a god darling? The darling isn't a benevolent god and requires bloody sacrifices but they are willing to offer anything and everything to them. I would imagine a scenario where the god descends on earth for the first time and he gets to meet them, what would they do? An obsessive, extremely delusional yandere that believes they are meant to be the darling's spouse.

Gender neutral reader and male yandere possibly!

(Can have NSFW or not, whatever you feel most inspired to do)

-🔴🦊

Oh yes! The motivation has me in a chokehold with this one! Also, I was planning on adding NSFW, but got super caught up in the writing and didn't. I'm sorry

Yandere Worshipper x God Reader

M yan x gn reader

TW - obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, blood, torture, murder, harming animals, masochism, manipulation

Before you, his life was miserable. Nothing was worth living for. Everything absolutely pissed him off. Most nights he'd go into the forest behind his home and kill whatever small animals he could find rather than sleep. There was something relaxing about causing something to bleed and watching the light slowly drain from their eyes.

On one of those such nights, he just so happened to kill a rabbit on an abandoned altar. Your altar. He didn't really notice. It just seemed like another abandoned structure. Just a crumbling rock covered in vines to him. Nothing special whatsoever.

Oh how wrong he was. That "stupid rock" was exactly the thing that would change his life.

As the blood of the rabbit seeped through the vines and onto the stone, lightning struck. Odd, it wasn't supposed to rain that night. Regardless, he didn't want to get all wet, that'd be inconvenient. He went home, rain pouring as soon as he closed his door. Lucky timing.

It was nearly 3am, and he had to be up in 2 hours for work. Maybe he should actually try to get some sleep. Only bothering to take off his shoes, he went to the couch and flopped down. Tomorrow was going to be just the same. He closed his eyes, sleep taking him faster than usual.

It was dark. He never feared the dark, but there was something...eerie about this. It seemed like, other than a small area around him, this place was entirely void of light.

Was this a dream? It had to be. But it felt so...real.

The rabbit he had just killed tonight was suddenly tossed to his feet, coming from the darkness. But something was off. It had no blood left. It was completely dried up.

"My, you certainly are disgusting, aren't you?" A voice rang out all around him. "I adore it."

He tried to speak. To ask what was going on. But nothing. Not a sound came out of his throat.

"Let's make a deal." An ominous hand extended from the darkness. "I will give you all your darkest desires, let you harm whomever you want as horribly as you want. And all I ask of you is that you sacrifice their blood to me. Do we have a deal?"

Well, there's a reasons dreams are called as such. The idea of getting to live out his twisted desires freely absolutely was his dream.

Even if this wasn't real, he agreed anyway. He took the hand and shook it, feeling how cold it was. Your grip was brutal and freezing. If this was real, you might have almost broke his hand.

"That's a good boy~" Your voice faded away, drowned out by the sudden wind.

He awoke with a start. It was still the middle of the night. Checking his phone, he found that he only got about 10 minutes of sleep.

But he also found a large, unnatural bruise on his hand. Right where yours would have held it. Was that...not a dream?

He was hesitant at first. As much as he wanted it to be true, life just wasn't that good to him. But that next night, he went back to your altar. The rabbit and its blood were gone. It was too clean for some other animal to have taken it. So he wanted to try something out. He found three squirrels - it must have been a good night - and brought their carcasses to your altar.

And when he came back the next morning, there wasn't a trace of them.

So it was real...it really was! It started simple. He'd hunt small animals and deliver them to the altar. At some point, he even cleared the vines covering it and made sure the area was nice and clean for you. He's been getting frequent visits from you in his dreams. Even if all he knew was your hand and voice, you were growing more and more enticing...and he even gained your trust enough to allow him to speak!

But the little forest critters quickly learned to avoid the area. Some nights, he couldn't find a single thing for you. And so, during one of your dream visits, he begged and pleaded for an answer.

"My god, my perfect god, I am so sorry! No matter how far I go, I can't seem to find enough blood for you! Please, give me an answer! How shall I please you without enough sacrifices?" He was pathetic, down on his knees in front of you. Or at least, where he thought you were.

Truly, your mortal pet was adorable.

"My one and only follower, let me give you the answer..."

When you said it...it seemed so simple. And truly he was flattered.

He spent his days and nights doing exactly as you said. His home turned into more of a church dedicated entirely to you. A church he would get people to join. It was difficult at first. His people skills were lacking, to put it kindly. But with your perfect guidance, he was able to sweet talk anyone into joining your cult church. It was getting so big that he got to quit his job. After all, your new followers were paying him now.

Preying on the weak and desperate made it easy! But of course, he still had to make sacrifices to you somehow until these people could be used. He needed their trust first. So how did he give you blood? Why, by giving you his of course! Just like you said to!

He loved to make blood spill. But he never realized it would feel so good to spill his own blood. If it was for you, he'd tear out his organs and bones one by one until you were satisfied.

He was enjoying himself too much, and everyone could tell. Well, his followers didn't yet know exactly what was going on, but they knew something was wrong. He was getting paler. He was tired and confused, he could hardly walk straight, and he seemed short of breath from simple tasks.

You couldn't have this. You couldn't let your prophet die of blood loss so soon. There was still much work to do.

"You worry me, my devoted follower. How will you spread my word when you're so weak?" Your cold hand reached from the darkness in his mind, your finger gently stroking his cheek.

This was pure bliss. If only he could never wake up. Your cold hand on his face, heat quickly rising in his cheeks. How kind you were to worry for him. That must mean he truly was meant to be yours!

He worked even harder after that dream. Soon enough, you had hundreds of followers! Enough that no one would notice a few going missing. That was when he could finally make big sacrifices to you.

Those who weren't dedicated enough to you payed the price. The basement of his home turned into a lovely little torture chamber. Those who displeased you in even the smallest ways found themselves down there, and never found their way out. No matter how much they screamed or cried or begged, forgiveness was never earned, and therefore neither was freedom.

Some were so pathetic that they even died. Those ones were fun. Such large sacrifices pleased you anytime he dragged them out to the altar. They made you grow more powerful.

It took so long to get here. So much work. He's become unrecognizable. But finally it was time. He'll never forget this dream. He'd never dare forget any of them! He made sure to write them down after waking up.

"It's nearly time, my faithful follower." Your voice, your absolutely perfect voice surrounded him and rang throughout his head.

"Time for what, my god?" No matter what it was, he was eager. After all, you sounded so pleased right now.

"Bring all our followers to my altar tomorrow night. Do as I say."

The word echoed through his mind. You said "our" followers. As in both of you, together. Ah, he really was meant to be your husband! And you knew it too! Clearly, otherwise you wouldn't have worded it like that. You were a very wise god, after all. You would never misspeak.

Or maybe you were just manipulating him, preying on his mad desire for you. He wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

As with all your commands, he did exactly as you said. He would never dare disobey you. They were confused, whispering and murmuring to each other. He was confused too, but that didn't matter. He did what you told him to! He was such a good follower.

Thunder roared above, the wind slowly picking up until it could nearly blow the frail man away. Lighting cracked up above, and rain began to pour. Some of the followers tried to love, not wanting to be stuck in this storm, only to be stopped by sudden cracks of lightning.

It was storming about as bad as it was the first night he "met" you. He kept his eyes on your altar, his hands clasped in front of his chest. Something was about to happen...

Then lightning struck it. Your one and only altar was...not destroyed? An imposing figure sat atop it, the storm dying down.

His jaw dropped as he fell to his knees. It had to be...those hands. This immaculate presence. The sheer fear that struck through his heart. Yes, this was most certainly his beloved god.

While everyone else had looks of shock and terror on their faces, his expression was one of pure bliss. His cheeks were red, a wide grin on his lips as drool dropped down his chin. Your perfection was beyond his wildest imagination.

"Footrest." Your powerful voice commanded, motioning for him to come closer with two fingers. He gladly crawled to you, on his hands and knees as you rested your feet on his back.

He just couldn't stop staring at you. He had to memorize every last detail in case he never sees it again. His absolutely perfect spouse...

"I ought to introduce myself properly. Yes, I am your god. Kneel before me!" Your voice boomed, becoming the only sound in the dense forest. Some of your followers kneeled more hesitantly than others. Those who hesitated...were quickly killed.

Your worshipper was in awe of your power and authority. The way you took those pieces of filth's lives with just a flick of your wrist was utterly divine. He's never seen something so beautiful.

"Those of you who do not dedicate your very being to me...are to die here tonight." You smirked as the people uproar. Did they truly think you were as benevolent as they'd been told? It was their own fault for trusting the delusional man beneath your feet.

It was a massacre. A bloody, brutal, unstoppable massacre. No one was spared. No one but him. They would now be your slaves in the afterlife thanks to their (lackluster) devotion to you in life.

He was absolutely enamoured. He's never seen so much blood. Such beautiful red, so many dead bodies...you most certainly were a good deserving of his complete worship and devotion. It was he that did not deserve your magnificence.

"Now, my devoted worshipper...join me. Plunge this world into utter despair and chaos with me."

"Yes, my god!" He would do anything you wanted! Anything...this world would know your name, and it would be all because of him.

Alright, that was a good one! Endings are hard- also, sorry if there's any errors. It was a long one this time! (Yay!)

[cemeterything]

This isn't a gotcha, so please don't take it as such, but would yuou be willing to explain what it is about VAL that makes her such a favourite of yours? I can't stand her myself, she comes across to me as a bully given god-like power that she abuses for her own amusement, and I've seen you acknowledge as much, but we draw completely different conclusions from that. I just want to understand your perspective.

i've been anticipating a question like this for a while now, so i'm more than happy to answer for you!

you're right, VAL is in some ways a "bully given godlike power" as you put it, and there's no avoiding that (nor do i want to). and yeah, i do like her in part because of that, because i have a fondness for horrible fictional characters and in particular "bad victim" archetypes, of which VAL certainly is one. but i think what makes her compelling to me, rather than repulsive, is that she is fundamentally a cautionary tale and a tragedy. in-universe, she's the scapegoat. the example. the "make the right choices or this could be you". she's inescapably, heartbreakingly human in her awfulness, and that makes her terrifying, but it also makes her deeply sad (at least to me).

i also strongly believe in rehabilitative/restorative justice, so for me, wanting better for VAL is about my real-world principles to a degree. i can't and won't argue that VAL doesn't function as an uncomfortable allusion to a lot of atrocious crimes against humanity (by humanity) within the narative, and that anyone who finds her upsetting or even hateful for these reasons is absolutely justified in doing so. however, she's still a fantasy entity at the end of the day. she's not a 1:1 stand-in for real-world abuses any more than, say, a vampire or werewolf, which plenty of people are more than happy to explore the nuances of. and there's also the question of what punitive measures would even achieve in her case, beyond personal satisfaction for the one administering or spectating them (which is not to say that wanting to punch VAL makes you as bad as she is, just that her arc is, among other things, about how cycles of abuse and violence perpetuate). the worst that could possibly happen to her has already happened. she's been tortured. she's been taken advantage of for her mistaken belief that working for and with the system has the opportunity to benefit her, and died for it. there's nothing to be "learned" from her punishment that hasn't already been shown to us. that she hasn't already internalised. if she were ever to develop a stable conscience, that would be punishment enough in my opinion.

despite being a victim of people not entirely unlike VAL, i personally am not her victim, so treating her with sympathy and kindness whilst acknowledging the elephant in the room that is her many (fictional) war crimes is not something that requires any cognitive dissonance on my behalf. i would cautiously argue that the narrative agrees with me somewhat in this regard - the few times VAL is treated to a genuine act of kindness with no ulterior motives, it shatters her composure and outward conviction that what she's doing is necessary for her personal satisfaction, and even prompts her to reconsider on occasion (sparing the woodsman comes to mind). i'm not saying anyone needs to hug her and tell her she's valid, but if all it takes is some genuine good intent to get her to engage in introspection, i'm willing to be the person to offer it.

[is-the-fire-real]

Another bit on the pro-Pal fandom, this one axiomatic

Being a good person is not the same thing as pretending as though you believe you are a good person.

Being a good person takes work. You have to do stuff. Doing stuff is hard. Doing good stuff is harder, because you have to put thought into determining what you think is good beforehand. That requires self-reflection, honesty, a willingness to challenge oneself, and taking in information from other people to verify that your concept of "good" is, well, good.

The nice part is that once you evaluate what is good and start doing good things, it becomes easier. You gain inner calm, peace, and even joy.

("Good" is not always the same as "necessary". Necessary work can be a slog, or it can be horrific. But there can still be a calming satisfaction at the core, the security that this is necessary and therefore worthwhile.)

Pretending to believe you are a good person takes less immediate work. You don't have to do anything that positively impacts the real world, and you don't have to do any of that annoying, time-consuming self examination. But in the long run, it's more exhausting. By far.

You are insecure about whether or not you are a good person. You're pretending to believe you are good. You can't feel secure in something you pretend to believe. That insecurity gnaws at you, especially when you engage in bad behavior--harassment, doxxing, posting gore, swarming tags, encouraging and promoting suicide among your fellow "activists", telling your opponents to kill themselves, stalking, spamming unrelated content with literal Nazi propaganda.

None of those are good things good people do. And you understand that. You would think someone was bad if they did those things to you. The cognitive dissonance between who you want to be and who you really are, as determined by your actions, is scary. It's painful. It rears up every time someone you have labeled a Zio colonizer scumbag asks you to please just stop and you remember a time when you begged someone--an abuser, a troll online, a 4channer, your parents--to just stop please just leave me alone.

That must feel terrifying, and again, it makes you insecure. It makes you question if you're doing the right thing.

So you do the work to pretend to believe you are good. And that's far more work than goes into being good.

You recruit others, and all of you agree that you will pretend together. Tabletop gaming has taught us how powerful this imaginative play can be. You all reassure each other that you are good and you are right. But since you're all lying to each other, that means you must spend more, and more, and more time every day telling each other that you are good, chasing that high, that feeling that you are a good person and your actions are justified.

You tell each other that your "opponents" in this "battle" are not people, so anything you say or do to and about them is okay. You look at lists of "dehumanizing tactics" and instead of internalizing what those lists are teaching you, you go: "Ah, so if I don't use the word 'vermin', anything I say should be fine!" And then you say it.

You do not smile over good news. You only smile when one of your opponents logs off Tumblr because you made the site unusable and unsafe for them. (The expression you make there isn't really a smile, but we'll call it that, since the corners of your mouth do turn upward.) You tell yourself you're just attacking Zionists and pretend you do not see how you're really going after Jews.

No self-examination; that would mean admitting that you're lying to yourself and others. Instead, you traumatize and exhaust yourself until you're psychologically incapable of self-examination. You watch snuff films. You stare at mangled bodies until you're weeping and physically ill (certainly, you're too ill to check whether the video is real, or if it was taken from this conflict).

You force your beliefs into your fandom spaces so that others, the bad people, cannot escape their complicity in genocide.

But more importantly, you do that so you can't escape.

You cannot engage in any fandom but the pro-Pal fandom because that takes imaginative energy away from your biggest pretense--that you're a good person.

You are NOT hurting people because you are striking a blow for Palestinians. You are hurting people, including yourself, because you do not want to do the work of becoming a good person. You are afraid that self examination, at this point, will reveal to you that you are exactly the sort of person you believe you are fighting.

That fear, that insecurity, that dread, that restless sense that if you ever rest or stop or think for just a moment, you'll discover something awful? That's your conscience.

I do not ask you to change your mind about your political opponents. Your defenses are already on your lips and in your mind; a thousand How Dare Yous for me hinting that you look at other people as people. What I will ask you is to consider this.

I came to young adulthood just as Bush was elected, and the Iraq War post-9/11 was the first war I really followed as an adult. I did what you're doing now. I forced myself to look at photographs of destroyed bodies. I looked at photographs of torture perpetrated by US soldiers. I blogged about it obsessively.

I told myself that I was Doing My Part to end the war. But really, it's that the anxiety of being an American during the war made me insecure over whether or not I was responsible for all of this, and therefore, a bad person. If I pretended my looking at snuff photos was activism, and that it was good, then I could pretend to believe I was good and shout "Not in my name" at protests. I could deny my responsibility.

What I really did was traumatize myself. It's been almost twenty years. I can still see some of those torture pictures in my head. In the end, that is the extent of the impact of my online activism. The blogs are all long deleted, and nobody remembers them.

Only my trauma remains.

I do not want this for you. I want you to be wiser. There is still time. You can stop.

Stop hurting yourself and other people. Do the hard work. Examine yourself and your actions. Consider what your own heart is trying to tell you whenever you start to get the shakes and your throat gets tight. Do not take that feeling out on random people online because they have a Magen David in their pfp.

Once you have done the hard work, it gets easier. You will be able to advocate and work for whatever causes you believe in because you know they are good, not because you're joining your friends in cosplaying goodness. You will still be traumatized, and you will still be sad, and you'll definitely still get angry. You will have to face how you've acted exactly like your own past abusers, and that's a real tough row to hoe.

But at the end, you will be able to advocate and work because you want to, instead of feeling as though you must in order to keep up the masquerade.

[lnsfawwi]

Can we talk about Chris' understanding of Steve and how much Steve being selfish means in CACW?

in an interview, Chris says Steve won't think things like 'ah another day to save the world' because that kind of thought is 'self-involved' and it 'requires a certain type of egotistical approach to his own awareness.' He also says Steve thinks the way he does partly because that's just who he is and also to keep his 'sanity.'

I don't always agree with Chris' interpretation of Steve but his acting choice is informed by his version of Steve and in this regard, considering how much Chris emphasized the selfishness of Steve's actions in CACW, it's a huge fucking deal.

By Chris' words, Steve's thoughts don't start with 'I'. It's not 'I'm going to do XXX' or 'I have this responsibility', certainly not 'I feel like doing YYY.' They start with objectives: 'Coffee. Gym. Beat bad guys.' To some extend I think it's almost mechanical. (no wonder he's never happy)

But in CACW it's not 'save Bucky', it's not 'for the greater good', it's 'I choose Bucky' (Chris famously said that Steve was fighting for Bucky not the Accords). It's a choice made out of emotions, it's personal.

So when Chris said Steve was selfish in CACW I don't think he meant that Steve was being, well, selfish, but rather he was for the first time acting out of personal desires. (still not true but you do you Chris)

Perhaps Chris thought Steve went to Azzano to save Bucky and the rest of the soldiers and crushed the plane for the greater good and burned SHIELDRA to the ground purely because that was the right thing to do, but even with all that, Steve in CACW just stopped giving a fuck about anything else. The world can burn I just want my Bucky back.

It's also interesting that Chris said Steve thought and acted that way for his sanity. This connects to the idea that Steve is just a giant black hole of repressed feelings and emotions, he knows that if he isn't careful those feelings - his dark side - will come out and cause serious damage as it did in CACW. Again, by Chris' interpretation, Steve making a personal choice is a huge fucking deal: Steve was losing control of his rationality and the cause? Bucky.

Is it a coincidence that Steve's dark side, his feelings and emotions are always connected to Bucky? Stucky was in the fucking narrative.

[inblackwoods]

More on why this is so later, but when Daniil talks to people, he tends to mirror their speech patterns. This makes even very short conversations with some people- Big Vlad, for one- complex. The first thing Vlad says to Bachelor is:

“Ah, Bachelor Dankovsky, of course… Who else could be so dapper… I’ve heard quite a lot about you… Have you taken a look around? Be sure to check the state of the industry around here… We have our own ways.”

To which the Bachelor immediately picks up on a certain, thinly veiled bitchy energy. He responds: “How curious! And what is the current state of your industry?”

Big Vlad and Daniil are unfortunately similar in some ways- adhering to social etiquette and politeness leads to a lot of subtle, backhanded compliments, carefully worded insults, and politicking. “Who else could be so dapper,” (you uppity little snob), is retaliated with a comment implying something might not be so grand about Vlad’s industry. But neither of them will say anything directly. “We have our own ways,” is also leading to the more interesting aspect of this conversation. Vlad speaks flippantly about the Bull Project, acting as if it were as natural and unchangeable as gravity, and furthermore is beyond an outsider’s comprehension, so it certainly couldn’t be criticized by someone like Daniil. Yet the entire time Vlad’s suggesting as much, he is avoiding direct statements on it.

He says: “Come now… It’s a complicated establishment with a thousand years of history. A special approach is required to control such a colossus. See where I’m getting at, emissary?”

And Bachelor responds: “But no! Such businesses always leave room for improvement.”

It’s the same airy, dismissive sort of manner of speaking that Vlad was using, but this time to challenge and dismiss the notion that the industry is beyond question, scrutiny, or improvement, even from an outsider. Bachelor is speaking in a way that lets Vlad know that he knows how Vlad is trying to manipulate him and he’s NOT having it. He’ll make it clear by recognizing and perfectly mirroring the evasive “polite” playing dumb that Vlad is doing. 

What’s interesting is that Bachelor cares to do all of this, to argue about something that doesn't really impact or benefit him. He isn't planning on staying in town, why care how the industry/power structure is designed? Why care to fight for the Kin (who do become major points of discussion in Daniil's conversations with both Vlads) even in the most indirect capacity? Daniil isn’t always kind to the Kin, though he can be decent depending on how you play him, and he does have an amount of fondness for and connection to Isidor. I think there are two other reasons. 

One, Daniil hates anyone who tries to control his reactions, thoughts, feelings, or words. Vlad wants to force Daniil into a certain perspective, keep him ignorant to exploit him instead of giving him any information. Vlad is trying to give him no other options but to agree with him. Bachelor doesn't take kindly to being controlled and it isn't easy to do (though it does happen a lot). Two, Bachelor is dedicated to absolute truth (despite his own deceptive tendencies) and the Olgimskys are some of the biggest liars. They treat the Bull Project like it's a natural fact of human existence and it is absolutely not. The subjugation of the Kin is cruel and violent and not at all the natural order of people or the world- pretending otherwise is blatantly false and gross, even to Daniil. Of course all of this would piss Bachelor "truth is my shepherd" Dankovsky off.  When Vlad says "The sanitary inspection last year testified that the Bull Project is in order. Nothing to cavil at. Everything’s fine," that should sound an alarm, and it does for Daniil.

If any of this is of interest, my transcription and analysis is here. This project is what inspired other posts like this one.

[txttletale]

The "calling police is inherently immoral" takes feel… maybe a bit US-centric? All countries have structural issues with police that come as the result of the conflict of interests between individual people and the interest of the bourgie state, but not every country's police force is a highly-militarized, highly-armed trigger-happy murder force comprised of wannabe bullies the way the US's seems to be. Some do clear that very low bar. Hell, there are tons of countries where regular police officers aren't even armed.

In my life I've called the police twice over student parties past midnight so loud you could hear them two streets away, and once over someone's dog being trapped/forgotten in the trunk of car, distressed and barking continuously.

Even in a world after police abolition, the above kind of policing will continue to need to happen. Some people are dicks, and some situations need intervention. A shitton of civil law, not criminal law, exists for a very good reason and still requires some form of police to enforce. I like to think I have a pretty hopeful view of humanity, but the reason people in my country have stopped smoking indoors, and don't leave their trash in random places, and don't piss in the middle of the street, is that all of those things are illegal and can result in police being called and getting you fined. There is absolutely no way people en masse would obey those "don't be a dick" laws without that stick hanging over them.

In a country where police are so fucked up that calling them over a minor disturbance is likely to get people killed, yeah, I would probably not call the police and just suck it up and mourn the fact that the supposed justice system has become completely unusable for its intended purpose. But not all countries are like that.

(To be clear: I don't agree with calling police over someone doing drugs.)

even in countries where the police are not just outright death squads putting young people, especially young people of colour or working class young people, into a situation where they suddenly have to interact with the police is just not a cool thing to do. you've correctly identified that the role of the police is to repress the working class, no matter whether they're the white supermacist paramilitary groups of the US or the less militarized and better at PR police forces of Europe. like. the police in the UK are also 'not as bad' as the police in the US and yet they still do all kinds of horrendous racist violent shit and kill people. even the darling of democratic socialism norway, famous for its humane prison and policing system, actually still experiences police brutality, because no matter how 'professional' and disarmed the police force is its role is to enforce bourgeois property rights through violence. the idea that there is an 'intended purpose' to the justice is just buying into the police's hype.

& hey by the way you know who leaves their trash in the street and pisses there? homeless people. people who have nowhere else to put their trash or piss. the idea that the police are the only thing keeping society from descending into 'chaos' (i.e. visible signs of poverty and homelessness existing) is genuinely deeply reactionary. it's thin blue line shit. sure, it's cool that calling the police in your country isn't playing russian roulette with someone else's life but if you think that the police aren't 'a murder force' or 'comprised of wannabe bullies' wherever you live then i think you should probably look harder and pay more attention because there are almost certainly anti-police activists there who can tell you otherwise!

[actual-changeling]

Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner! I am fuelled up with coffee and my adhd medication, so this is about to be a RIDE.

Apologies in advance, since this post will probably get quite long and also scientific at some point, but I will try to keep it as plain and easy to understand as possible. Combine two of my special interests (Good Omens and chemistry) and you get absolutely insane infodumps; it's a blessing and a curse.

As always, this is simply a theory, and maybe I'm wrong, maybe we'll never find out. But it's an option, and I have canonical proof.

There have been endless theories about why the Gabriel-Hiding-Miracle (which I will shorten to GHM) set off alarm bells in heaven and reached a strength of 25 Lazarii. Are their half-miracles really combined that strong? Does it depend on their relationship or love?

Well, today I am here to tell you that, actually, there is no such thing as "half a miracle".

We are going to have a closer look at miracles themselves, but the first important thing to keep in mind is that most of the time, Crowley and Aziraphale are incredibly unreliable narrators and have barely any inside into how heaven and hell work. Remember, they have been on earth since 4004 BC, they are certainly not used to any of the internal routines and functions.

They can tell us all kinds of things, but that does not make them true.

Now, miracles!

Both angels and demons are capable of performing them, though they only seem to be counted as actual miracles when they happen on earth, seeing as they measured in Lazarii.

One Lazarus equals the miracle power it takes to bring one human being back to life—the consequence is that miracles must be bound to the earthly plane, since that is where their unit originated from. When they are performed in heaven or hell, they are still miracles in a broad sense—celestial beings using their powers—but not in a way that ascribes to the measuring system.

Neil once answered an ask about Lazarus as a unit, and he stated that miracles tend to be measured in Centi- or Millilazarii (mostly the latter), meaning that the GHM was about 1000x as strong as your usual, daily miracle. The labeling also tells us that the scale for Lazarii is the same as the metric one.

If we treat Lazarus as a base unit, we need to find a way of defining it that is unique to this specific unit.

Globally, we have a collection of agreed-upon base units, the SI units (coming from the French Système international d'unités, aka International system of Units). Those seven are second, metre, kilogram, ampere, candela, kelvin, and mole, and every single one has a very specific definition—they are too bloody complex. None of them can be expressed with one of the other SI units, which gives you great definitions such as these:

A little excursion for those that are interested: For a very long time, the kilogram was defined by. well. A cube. The "true kilogram", which is still in a vault somewhere in Paris. However, you can probably imagine why basing a unit on a physical objects isn't a great idea long-term, so back in 2018, the kilogram was redefined, along with three other units.

Now, all SI units are defined by natural constants, not physical objects, making them accurate and (more or less) absolute.

Back to miracles!

The reason I am telling you all this is that we need to find such a basic definition for miracles, too, or at least an approximation.

My proposal is that a miracle itself is the force exerted on matter by a a celestial being. That force is then measured in Lazarii, with one Lazarus being equal to the force required to bring one person back to life. This is where it gets a bit tricky because how do you visualize that kind of force?

Matter cannot be destroyed only created, so all the particles currently making up our bodies will continue to exist long, long after our deaths. Meaning when a person dies, the amount of matter that was them is still there, the consequence of which is that their body can be recreated at will. Now, souls seem to be separate from matter, making them metaphysical and thus irrelevant for this conversation. I am going with the assumption that once a body has been recreated, the soul can be put back into without additional cost in miracle power.

There might be another base unit hidden in the metaphysical, but that's a conversation for another time.

All of this amounts to one fundamental hypothesis:

A miracle is either done, meaning matter gets changed, or it isn't, meaning matter remains unchanged.

There is no in-between stage here, a "half-change" is not possible, either you exert a force on particles or you don't. What kind of change that is might not be tangible for us, but a change is a change.

When Crowley and Aziraphale try to hide Gabriel, they change the way he gets perceived, how others perceive him, aka they change the way his presence is processed.

The closest thing to compare it to, in my opinion, is the superior mirage—the Fata Morgana. At its core, it means that light bends as it passes through air layers with different temperatures; your eyes perceive the bent light rays and your brain processes them accordingly. You see images that aren't actually there.

Celestial beings look at Gabriel but see something that isn't actually there, so the "true" image remains hidden.

If we stick to this metaphor, then Crowley creates a mirage for any ethereal beings, and Aziraphale creates one for occult beings. The creation of that mirage is one miracle—not half a miracle, but ONE singular miracle. Both of them change matter, and both of these miracles can exist independently of each other.

Crowley and Aziraphale could have created their mirages on their own, meaning that two miracles were performed, not two halves of one miracle.

If you listen to the sound of the miracles, you can hear that it's different from the other ones they have performed on their own, with the "combined" miracle having two sound peaks instead of one. Tumblr hates it when I upload audio files, so have it like this.

In order, the miracles are Aziraphale lowering the chandelier and moving the shelves, Crowley removing the paintball stain, and the GHM.

IF they had both performed half a miracle, the end result would have been one miracle, meaning it should have sounded like any other—but it didn't! Two connected sounds, two simultaneous miracles.

There is still one thing left to talk about, which is the power of their miracle. Here is where my previous definition of Lazarus as a unit comes into play again.

Heaven measured a miracle power of 25 Lazarii aka a very high amount of force exerted on matter. You might think Alex, if they both performed their own miracle, how come that the alarm bells rang?

If we keep up the mirage metaphor, we can explain that! Crowley's intention was to make it so that ethereal beings cannot perceive him, so his miracle changed matter in a way that aligns with ethereal perception.

However, Aziraphale intended to change matter so that occult beings cannot perceive Gabriel, meaning his miracle changed matter in a way that is adapted to occult perception.

This is where science comes into play again!!

You see, particles aren't just particles, they are waves too. Wave-particle duality describes exactly that, e.g. an electron being both a particle and a wave at the same time. A connected theory to that is the Uncertainty principle, which describes the inability to measure the exact value of two different properties at the same time.

Or, to put it more plainly, if you try to figure out the exact position of a particle, its momentum becomes blurred, unclear. If you then focus on the momentum of the same particle, you can no longer describe its exact position.

You are probably looking at me now, thinking where the fuck are they going with this and why are there suddenly so many principles of quantum mechanics in a Good Omens meta post???

Crowley changes matter in way A.

Aziraphale changes matter in way B.

Those changes can co-exist, like an electron being a particle and a wave at the same time. However—and this is scientific theory adapted to celestial miracles—when an angel looks at Gabriel, then they are focusing on state A. When demons are looking at Gabriel, they are focusing on state B.

Focus on A and B becomes blurry. Focus on B and A becomes blurry.

Maintaining that double-state requires power though, because compared to wave-particle duality, these states aren't natural, they're inflicted—matter was changed. It's like the matter around Gabriel is flickering between those two states, a light switch trying to find a neutral position when there is only on and off.

How do we measure that power? In Lazarii.

The miracle energy that heaven measured is not that high because they each performed half a miracle and combined it into one, it is that high because they each performed one miracle that stands in opposition to the other; as a result, two different states need to be maintained at the same time, meaning the manipulation is ongoing, meaning it needs a fuckton of power.

If you want to keep balancing your light switch, you need to keep trying, you need to keep up the pressure, otherwise you either click it off or on. Same thing with the hiding miracle.

Twenty-five Lazarii.

The power you need to exert on matter to reshape twenty-five people—or to continuously hide one being from two opposing observers with rapidly-switching state changes.

While I think the whole "it's because of love" theory is fun and cute, scientifically it really doesn't make much sense because their powers have rules similar to our base units, so me must approach and treat them as such.

With that, thank you to everyone who made it this far and managed to survive our little excursion into the field of quantum mechanics.

Questions, thoughts, additions, etc. are very welcome!

[pomplalamoose]

“you might get as far as rising from your seat until he has you restrained, either holding you hostage on his lap or pressing you against the next wall to do with as he pleases “ this. i need. i just need more. please

this post is based on this ask / warning for nswf content under the cut / mdni!!

In the name of everyone I want to cordially thank you for this ask because even though I do nothing else but talk about Luke on here there is not nearly enough ESB Luke on my blog🙏🏻

Ngl though this post turned out considerably smuttier than I had originally planned for it to be, so uhhhh I hope that's in your interest as well👀

• Luke doesn't mind letting you take control in bed

• I think he enjoys it just as much as being the one to do so

• though what gets him going, regardless of the current dynamic you agreed on, is if you are the one to initiate intimacy

• it makes him feel wanted and loved, which he treasures especially when times are rough

• when he worries late into the night, scared of the unknown and all the things expected of him

• it's so easy to let someone else decide on what to do for once and he's happy to play along

• EXCEPT for when you decided to be a tease and then just,,, don't stop, continuing on without seemingly a single care in the world

• it drives him wild

• yes, it's certainly fun in the beginning and he likes to go along with it but only if you play nice

• once you have driven him past a certain point, once he's really sexually frustrated, he WILL take charge no matter how the situation may have looked before

• all of it gets thrown out of the window as soon as he's had enough

• (he won't even stop to think if maybe that's exactly what you had in mind from the very beginning)

• he may not have a plan nor a single coherent thought left but he has needs

• he is desperate

• he wants to get his hands on you, wants to feel you

• now

• and so he does and then there's probably happening a lot all at once, made all the more overwhelming by the fact that the space you're in isn't exactly spacious

• it will probably take you a second to figure out what exactly is going on, to determine which limbs are yours and which belong to him

• not that he's giving you a real chance though

• if he still has it in himself to hold off just a little bit longer and you happen to be ticklish you won't be able to breathe for the next few minutes

• and don't expect to catch a break after, he'll have you where he wants you in seconds

• Luke isn't picky in that regard either, his lap will do just as well as the floor or the console or the wall

• at first he can't decide where he wants to put his hands, letting them roam over your entire body, generously squeezing your butt, pulling your hair, sliding under your top, pinching your sides

• until he just grabs whatever he can to pull you in even closer for a kiss that quickly escalates into a messy make out session

• nothing here is calculated

• nothing about the way he handles this is sensual

• while the first clash of your lips is more or less civilized, still chaste, what follows after is not

• shamelessly holding you down he grinds his clothed cock against you, his kisses more similar to licks and bites than anything else

• they're open mouthed and sloppy, wet

• loud

• he'll look you dead in the eye and release the most guttural, filthy moan you've ever heard in your life just to see your reaction

• one thing about ESB Luke is, he doesn't care

• except for one thing

• now that you already had your fun, he WILL get off, no matter how

• sure he wouldn't say no to filling you up nicely but that'd require him to pause his movements, to undress...

• he's not a fan of that, not when right now it feels so good and-

• it will depend on his state of mind that day, on whether he's able to hold back long enough to remove a satisfactory amount of yours and his clothes to properly fuck you

• though when he finally does enter the heat of your body, his eyes roll to the back of his head, his jaw dropping with sheer lust

• he takes you hard and fast, preferably bent over, until you're both shaking with exhaustion

[pilferingapples]

I am, regrettably, thinking about Gillenormand

and I think--part of why he's so deeply unpleasant is because his basis of morality isn't centered around considering people as people, themselves, individuals with their own unique needs and wants , but as Roles

for Gillenormand, doing the Right Thing is not about how his actions actually affect other people, but about how well he's playing his perceived role (which in his case is Haute Bourgeoisie, with a pre-FRev understanding of that role)

This is why there's no problem for him with being generous, in paying his servants or offering individual charity or just giving gifts, etc; that's what a man of his station SHOULD be like, in his reckoning of the world ; it's a way of asserting his social status, arguably even a social duty in that (to him) it enforces social order. Servants, poor people, and/or the women and children of a household should expect financial largesse from their patriarch; certainly they shouldn't be independent of their betters! And a good bourgeois patriarch should be able to extend gifts on a whim-- it proves his security and enforces his social power. The flipside to this of course is that the beneficiaries of this should be Grateful, and above all should recognize the rightness of his authority here. He provides them with material possessions; they center their lives around doing everything he wants, and acknowledge his authority. Huzzah for the patriarchy!

So in terms of less material generosity, in terms of anything that would require considering his kids or his servants as fully separate people who not only could but even perhaps should have desires and plans that aren't About Him -- oh he's not having that. That is Defiance! Chaos! Romanticism, Probably! Scandal! The Reds!

Exceptions exist , to be sure-- if they fit a person's Role. Gillenormand is entirely fine with the idea that Marius is having affairs without telling him, that's what a good bourgeois boy should be doing! It's Fine if Magnon tries to extort money from him, with the implication of affairs-- that's playing into their respective social roles. But if his own daughter wants to talk about their family? When he said not to? HORRIBLE. Marius isn't psychic and doesn't spend enough time ferreting out Gillenormand's True Secret Meaning? Treachery! Marius is hurting him on purpose!

It's not entirely unlike Javert's concept of social order, although Gillenormand's version is nigh-inifinitely more complicated--but then, both he and Javert would probably agree that Gillenormand should be the one handling complexities; Javert only needs to know who he should Obey (practically everyone, by the rules either of them keeps).

if all of that's right, I think part of what's going on with him after Marius recovers is not just that he's realized Marius is able to operate independently of him and thus isn't someone he can bully anymore--it's that Marius is , in his eyes, really moving into being the acting male head of household, and thus the person the rest of them owe fealty to. Especially with Marius getting married and probably starting his own family, and ESPECIALLY especially with Marius being independently wealthy--he's becoming the center of the family, instead of Gillenormand.

I really hope that's right, actually, because if it is then Marius and his new role in the household is something Gillenormand won't be trying to work his way around to taking over the household again; this is the order of things and he's got his new role. But also: gad, what a depressing ideology. What a depressing person.

[oliversrarebooks]

The amount I would like to see Jameson and Alex have a high society slap fight is more than a little lol

Masterlist

March 1920

tw: mind control, captivity, references to abuse

"Good evening, Lord Alexander!" said Miriam as she opened the door, beckoning him inside nervously.

"Good evening, Miriam. You seem agitated -- is everything all right?"

Miriam sighed with a smile. "Madam's overworking herself again, sir. It's not my place to overstep as her thrall, but I'm concerned about her health. I'm glad you came to call. She listens to you, sir."

"Do you really believe that? I don't," said Lex, chuckling. "Regardless, I don't think you're overstepping. I think it's very good for you to care for your madam. Lily needs people looking out for her."

Miriam beamed like she'd won the lottery. "Thank you, sir."

Lex allowed Miriam to lead him into the parlor. He was quite fond of Lily's latest thrall. She had remained sharp under the enthrallment so far -- no surprise, given how skilled Lily was at her craft. A good sign for her future, he thought.

"Oh, Lex, there you are," said Lily, who was lounging in an undignified manner on the couch, surrounded by magazines and bits of yarn and fabric. "I'm glad you were able to pull yourself out of your book-cave long enough to come calling. I've been drowning in work lately, and I need someone to socialize with who isn't a thrall I'm hypnotizing, or I might lose my own mind."

"Rough week, then," he said, settling down in a plush chair. Nearby, Miriam sat down in a chair in the corner, taking up an embroidery project.

"It's been one thing after another. I think the long winter has given everyone cabin fever, and they've all collectively decided that they're dissatisfied with their perfectly functional thralls. You won't believe what I've had to put up with." 

"Such as?" Lex leaned in.

"The most ridiculous complaints. 'He taps his foot while he reads.' 'She turns the radio on too loud.' As though they need me to solve that," she said with a frustrated groan. "The worst one was 'his human food smells bad.' I turned him away -- 'sorry, sir, I can't do anything about the fact that your human thrall requires human food.'"

Miriam made a strange noise of distress.

"What is it?" Lily asked.

"Does my human food smell bad?"

"Oh, no, of course not! You haven't done a thing wrong, Miriam. It's the vampires who are being unreasonable."

"It's awful that they treat their thralls like that," said Lex. "What ever happened to treating your thralls with dignity?"

"Exactly, you understand. Speaking of which -- " Whatever Lily was about to say was cut off by the doorbell ringing. "Oh, for crying out loud, who could that be? I cleared my schedule today."

Lex, having an uneasy feeling about this, followed Lily to the door, and was none too happy to see the perturbed visage of Jameson, a vampire he truly despised. He was gripping a smaller man by the shoulders, an unfortunate thrall who had clearly been crying.

"And what do you want?" said Lily bluntly.

"Is that any way to treat a customer?" he said.

"You're not a customer until you tell me what you want and I agree to it," she said. "And in case you didn't know, asking me to work on such short notice will cost you an extra 20%."

"I'm aware," he said. "I'm at my wit's end with this thrall. He's supposed to be fully mindwiped, but he keeps sniffling and making the most obnoxious whining noises."

"What on earth did you do to that poor man?" asked Lex. He'd never been able to stand the company of vampires who preferred their thralls to be little better than cattle, especially if the vampire in question abused their innocent humans. That dislike was mutual -- vampires like Jameson rarely mingled with those like Lex who believed they had an obligation to give their thralls a good life.

Jameson scowled at Lex. "It's none of your business, is it? I'm here to make a business transaction with Miss Lily and certainly not with you."

"Fine," she said with an annoyed huff. "Let me see your thrall. You can sit in the parlor until I'm done."

The thrall's eyes held a spark of recognition when he looked at Lily. Considering what a thorough job she did with the mindwipes -- preferring not to have to do it twice, and trying to minimize the thrall's suffering -- he must have been under a lot of stress to wake up enough to regain memories. Damn that Jameson.

No doubt, Jameson would rather not deal with Lily at all, but although he was in possession of a strong vampiric aura, his enthralling abilities were known to be below average. He had no choice but to hire an expert to work with his thralls, lest he destroy their minds utterly and leave himself responsible for a comatose bloodbag.

As Lily took the thrall into her workroom, Jameson sat down in the parlor with a sour look on his face. In her corner, Miriam was staring at him with a haunted expression. Lex wasn't sure if she actually knew Jameson, or if she saw how he treated his thrall and rightfully regarded him as a threat. He gave the poor girl a look as if she were lower than a bug, and she shrank further into her seat.

The humane and sympathetic thing to do would be to send Miriam out of the room until Jameson left. But Lex, annoyed at Jameson's rotten attitude and the interruption of his social call, couldn't help but do something a bit petty that he knew would annoy the other vampire.

He pulled up a chair next to Miriam. "This embroidery you're working on is very intricate. Can you show me your work?"

Miriam smiled. At least she seemed comforted by having Lex nearby, distracting her from the vampire glaring daggers at her. "Oh, yes, sir, of course," she said, showing him the pattern she'd carefully cut from a magazine. "It's a skirt with flowers and birds all up and down it. The original pattern has green leaves and blue birds, but I had this lovely rust-colored fabric to use, and I thought it would go very well with autumn leaves and red birds, like cardinals."

"You have a good eye for color, Miriam, and it's coming along splendidly," said Lex.

"Thank you, sir, I truly appreciate that!"

"Hmph." Jameson sniffed.

"Is there some problem?" said Lex.

"I just think it's a terrible shame that a vampire so gifted with conditioning chooses to keep her thrall in such disgraceful condition," he said, with a pointed glance to Miriam, who clutched Lex's arm fearfully. "She could easily erase her thralls and keep them in a far more agreeable state where they don't require entertainment or attention, and yet, she chooses this. You'd think her sire would have taught her better."

Miriam gripped Lex's arm hard enough to hurt, and Lex regretted that he'd provoked Jameson instead of sending her out. "Sir -- if I displease you --"

"You haven't displeased anyone, Miriam," Lex said, patting her hand in a comforting gesture. "You're an excellent thrall, and your madam also thinks so. She tells me all the time. You don't need to listen to what Lord Jameson says."

"Of course you'd think that," said Jameson. "That's about what I'd expect from a thrall-screwer."

Lex glared at Jameson with a simmering rage. "I'd suggest you be quiet, lest you say something you'll regret."

"Why would I regret speaking the truth?" said Jameson. "We all know you fell for that nasty little blond thing. A revolting thrall, and no better as a vampire, if you ask me."

Lex's temper flared. He was obviously baiting Lex for a confrontation, looking to stir shit for his own amusement. Lex really should ignore the meaningless squawking of an ignorant asshole just trying to get a rise out of him.

Instead, he stood from his chair, crossed the parlor in a flash, and slapped Jameson across the face as hard as he could. 

Jameson looked stunned for a moment, the bright red mark emblazoned across his cheek, then started to laugh. "And I thought you considered yourself civilized! Well, if that's how you like it..." There was a flash in his eyes as he flared his vampiric aura, and Lex could feel it, like rodents skittering along his limbs and gnawing at his flesh, like a thousand beady red eyes boring into him. The sensation made the hair on the back of Lex's neck stand up.

It was an aura that could easily subdue a lesser vampire, but Lex hadn't survived this long in this city by allowing any upstart vampire to best him, especially with his honor at stake. He took a deep breath, pushing his own aura outward in an inexorable wave. He was a storm on the ocean, waves and surf pounding, wooden ship cracking beneath your feet, the feeling of being pulled down into the dark and briny depths with no hope of escape.

Jameson furrowed his brow and intensified his efforts, but this was a battle he could not win, and it was so satisfying when his facade cracked and he showed his first sign of fear --

-- at least until both of them were swept off their feet by an even more powerful force of will.

"Hey!" Lily bellowed from the doorway. "What the devil do you two think you're doing?"

Lex looked at her sheepishly, not wanting to admit he'd been having a pointless tussle with with her customer. Jameson primarily looked annoyed that their fight had been interrupted.

"You two were laying it on so thick that I could feel your auras in my workroom. I don't know how you expect me to put a thrall under in those conditions." She went to comfort Miriam, who clung onto her skirt. "And you've upset my Miriam."

"Sorry, Lily," said Lex, and mostly meant it. At least, he did very much regret upsetting Miriam, who didn't deserve to be caught in this crossfire at all.

Lily sighed. "Lex, take Miriam to the kitchen and help her calm down," she said. "And as for you, Lord Jameson, you will sit quietly until my work is done, and I'm tacking on a surcharge for that little outburst."

"You can't be serious," he said, slamming his hands on the table. "It was Lord Alexander who --"

"Then you're free to take your thrall and leave."

Jameson settled back down onto the couch with a huff, like a petulant child. "Fine. Do what you will."

With that settled, Lex ushered a still-frightened Miriam into the kitchen as Lily returned to her work. "I'm sorry for being so sensitive, sir," she said.

"Don't be, not at all. I'm sorry for provoking that rat Jameson." He handed Miriam a handkerchief, which she used to wipe tears from her eyes. "You can relax here. He won't bother you any more. Now, is there any kind of snack you might like?"

"Sir, you don't need to --"

"It's my pleasure. The least I can do." He pulled out a chair and beckoned her to sit. "What would you like?"

"May I have strawberries with sugar, sir?"

"Certainly," he said, relieved that she asked for a dish he knew how to prepare, his knowledge of human cooking spotty at best. He found the fresh strawberries in the icebox, and made quick work of cutting them up and sprinkling them with sugar. 

Miriam's eyes lit up as she dug into the  sweet berries. "Thank you very much, sir!"

Lex settled down into the chair across from her as she ate. She was still a fairly bright thrall, but he knew that his sire would have her in his sights sooner rather than later. Lily would wipe her memories of the trauma, and her deterioration would begin. A slow moving tragedy, one he'd seen play out quite a few times by now.

Even so, she was certainly in a better position than that man in Lily's workshop. Her re-enthrallment of him would no doubt be a mercy compared to being lucid in Jameson's grasp.

What must it be like...?

He pushed the errant thought from his mind, not wanting to stir up dusty memories of his own enthrallment, so many years ago now.

Masterlist

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

[mwolf0epsilon]

The 501st Gang Meet their 105th Counterparts

A prequel to my last post

Rex, staring uneasily at the fully kitted captain Carno who is just silently staring at him: ...Uh, welcome aboard. I'm sure you'll feel right at home with the 501st and, should you need anything, we're more than willing to accomodate. Carno, continuing to stare menacingly before finally speaking up in a raspy and very hushed tone: I don't like your face. Rex: Wh-- Carno, shoving past him rudely: Stay out of my way, Blondie. I don't need some flashy Jedi's pet putting a spotlight on me. Rex, starting to think this might not be as easy as the briefing made it sound: Oh boy...

-

James, looking Jesse up and down while playing with his braid: So, is like, the tat supposed to be some kinda statement, or are you just really into licking boots? Jesse, pausing: I... Excuse me?! -staring at James wide-eyed- James: Oooh, it's a statement isn't it? Dang boy, they should slap you on a poster. Every battalion needs a show fathier, I guess! Jesse, glaring: I don't like you. James: Feeling's mutual. This ship ain't big enough for two token pretty boys. Jesse: No, no it isn't.

-

Hardcase, excitedly showing Clearcut around while talking like a ship running a click per second: Clearcut, allowing Hardcase to drag him around while sort of tuning him out and only picking up on vital pieces of information like emergency hallways, weapons storage and other such things: Hardcase: You don't talk much do ya? That's fine I'll talk for the both of us! Clearcut: By all means, carry on. Hardcase, happily carrying on: I can tell we're both gonna get along really well. Clearcut: I agree.

-

Kix, staring at Bon who's been shaking and on the verge of tears since arriving: Bon, staring back at Kix with very wet eyes while holding a fully stocked medkit in hand: I get to use this on anyone who comes in here? Kix, blinking: ... Yes. This is the medbay after all. Bon: And I'm allowed to treat them? I'm allowed? Kix, feeling a little uneasy: Yes...? Bon, openly crying now: This is the happiest day of my life... Kix, incredibly uncomfortable: Ah...

-

Echo & Fives, having a stare down with Wallflower & Nowt: Wallflower & Nowt, staring back at Fives and Echo with an impassive and a smug look respectively: Fives, opens up his mouth to say something: Nowt: Bitch. Wallflower, turning to slap his brother across the face: Captain said to put a sock in it. Nowt: The captain can suck it! If it wasn't for me he wouldn't know half the kark the others get up to when he's not looking! Wallflower: Karkin' snitch! Fives, closing his mouth and looking at Echo: Echo, nodding at Fives as both of them slowly back away from the now furiously arguing Jenga Twins:

-

Tup, sitting on the floor wrapped in a thin blanket because he was kicked out of his bunk and had his belongings taken: Can I at least have my brush back? Lobo, tossing him a pair of scissors instead: No amount of brushing will make that rat's nest look any less like osik. Tup, narrowly avoiding getting hit by the scissors and now standing up angrily: I'm gonna knock your teeth out. Lobo, equally angry: I'm gonna make you eat your own hair. Tup & Lobo launch themselves at each other and proceed to start a fight:

-

Dogma, a little overwhelmed as Caprichoso pulls him along while he's supposed to be the one giving him a tour of the ship: Caprichoso, wide-eyed and extremely excited about everything he's seen so far: Wow! You 501st lot have EVERYTHING! Good eats, tons of new gear up for grabs, full training room setup, clean showers, clean barracks, fully stocked medbay... Your Jedi spoil you so good! You must be the greatest troopers ever! Dogma: I... I wouldn't say they spoil us... That'd be a sign of unfair favoritism and would go against the no fraternization rules. And while the 501st certainly has a degree of great competency among many of the GAR's forces, those things you've listed are all requirements that were put forward to the Republic since the beginning of the army's first year of deployment. An ill-prepared and ill-equipment battalion wouldn't serve properly. Caprichoso: I know what you mean. But our general didn't see it that way. Thought we could push ourselves to be better without extra help... But eh! Who cares? The blighter is dead an' buried while we're here now! Gosh... You think your medic could give me a once over? Or or or, maybe we could hit the mess? Or uh! A shower yeah! I haven't had a shower in two weeks... My armour's getting more rank than I am ehehe! Get it? Dogma, moving slightly away from Caprichoso out of mild disgust: I, yes, a hot shower and a hot meal, then I can continue giving you the to-- Caprichoso: YOU GUYS GET HOT WATER?! I LOVE IT HERE ALREADY! -hugging Dogma tightly- We are gonna be such great friends! Dogma, eyes watering at the intense stench of B.O as well as the bone crushing hug of the rather clingy trooper: Stars have mercy...

[musclewomansbrawl]

Let's go ladies!

Welcome to the brawl where enthusiasts submit buff woman to compete for the title of Most Muscle Woman Ever.

I'm Mod Starla, let's begin.

I'm going to censor these words to keep them from showing up in the regular tag but just so we're on the same page:

NO T3RF$, R4DF3M$, AND N4Z1 CODED CHARACTERS. And no H*rry P*tter or Att*ck On Tit*n content. Please and Thank you.

Requirements:

She's fictional

She has defined muscles. They have to be visible when she's idle. She doesn't have to be a body builder but I need to see that visible line between muscles groups.

Photo proof will be required either way.

I will not accept her if she's canonically strong as hell but relatively skinny and doesn't look the part. Still love the girls that don't have huge muscles and still look like a model, though. This poll just isn't here to highlight them.

if you read these and agree to the terms, tell me if you would still love your muscle woman if she was a worm under the "Would you?" question in the form.

Multiple submissions are allowed. One per character however.

If your character is written or a podcast character, submit some descriptions, dialogue, something that talks about their muscles.

Furthermore, on that point, please try to avoid fanart. Give me the wiki if thats the best you can do

One the polls start going out, they'll be under the tag #supersmashwomen.

I can't promise weekly updates but I can certainly try to put my whole pussy into it. Feel free to send me any asks if you have any comments or questions.

Submissions: Open

^ click on this to get to the form

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for pulling my younger brother from his bedroom for "sleepovers" in the living room in the middle of the night?

I hate how clickbaity that is, but it really is the most succinct way I can try to paraphrase this. I have submitted here before for similar reasons, so this setup may or may not sound vaguely familiar, but this is pretty self-contained as a separate issue, I think. Quick preface- I am one of four siblings. Ages aren't particularly important for this, save for the fact that the oldest three are within a handful of years of each other, while our youngest is several years our junior. I was 11 when he was born, for reference. We'll call him C, and the two middle brothers A and B.

We somewhat recently (within the past few years) moved to a new house with a few more rooms, which shook up our previous sleeping arrangements. Now, instead of A, B, and C sharing the same room while I had my own for gender-related reasons, A gets his own space while B and C continue sharing a room. This means that my room no longer immediately across the hall from all three. A has a bit of a history of being loud in the middle of the night and getting mad when others ask, request, or tell him to be quiet, so this was a relief.

However, my new room is still just a few feet away from B and C, and now B is doing loud enough things to keep me awake- mainly playing video games and either not using headphones, constantly humming loudly along to the music playing, or saying something about the game. As a "bonus," he insists that C has to watch him play the entire time.

Even though this runs well into the early hours of the morning most nights.

And C still has early-morning school to worry about.

Previously, I'd just resigned myself to shutting up, jamming earplugs in my ears each night, and dealing with whatever weirdness is making one of my ears painfully itchy on a daily basis as a result. However, recently our parents started giving C flak for staying up late. They also made sure we knew they wanted B to stop keeping him up, but I'm not sure B actually knows or cares.

C and I did a bit of kvetching about unrelated topics today, this subject came up, C told me he doesn't enjoy being kept up that late either, and I had the idea that, should midnight come and go without B quieting down, I would interrupt whatever they're doing and "ask" C if he wanted to come sleep in the living room with me. I'm putting "ask" in quotations because I voiced this idea almost immediately, and C agreed this would be helpful just as quickly; me asking would serve solely as a way to have me interject into whatever B's doing and give C a quick way out.

At the same time, B can get touchy if he thinks C is brushing him off or I'm "butting in." I mean, C and I kinda will be doing both those things if we wind up needing to do this, but B seems intent on monopolizing as much of C's time and actions as he can get away with. I don't really think they need to fully stop interacting, but maybe B needs some time to himself instead of constantly wringing attention out of the baby of the family.

Then again, B is an adult. Like, legally. He'll be able to drink in a few months. He doesn't need to act like I'm interrupting his playtime with his favorite action figure whenever I remind him C isn't required to pay attention to him 24/7.

Idk. As far as sleeping arrangements in the living room would go, there's enough furniture to go around. I'm just not entirely sure if butting in would be an asshole move. Justified? Almost certainly, I think. An asshole move? That, I don't know. Whatever the case, I'm hoping these things work out quickly enough that we don't lose much more sleep. We're tired of finally managing to get to sleep at 3 AM.

What are these acronyms?