#denied freedom

[thefinalwitness]

anyway. i love you lgbt+/bipoc/disabled/neurodivergent/fat/deviantart sparklewolf-type ffxiv ocs. i mean this so fucking sincerely to be clear whatever completely-harmless-yet-explicitly-hated thing your oc is, i love it. isekaied? love you. eye-color-changing shapeshifting unsundered ancient who saved emet-selch's dying soul and lives in a cottage with him now? love you. gay/lesbian seekers of the sun living in clans/tribes that fully accept and support them? love you. black nonbinary elezen in ishgard? love you. wheelchair-using warrior of light that single-handedly took down the endsinger? love you. love love love love you.

edited to add: a very nice tag corrected me on some terminology for wheelchair users!! thank you so much!

[storywestistrash]

i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

[lafcadiosadventures]

tell us how you really feel about it, Diderot:

"If our priests were not stupid bigots; if this abominable Christianity had not been established by murder and blood; if the joys of paradise were not reduced to an irrelevant beatific vision of I don’t know what, that we can’t comprehend or understand; if our Hell offered something other than fiery pits, hideous and gothic demons, howls and teeth grinding; if our paintings could be something else besides atrocious scenes, a scorched man, a hanged man, a roasted man, a grilled man, a disgusting carnage; if all of our male and female saints were not wrapped in veils up to their nose, if our ideas of prudishness and modesty had not proscribed the display of arms, inner thighs, breasts, shoulders, any type of nudity, if the spirit of mortification had not withered these nipples,rendered the inner thighs flaccid, arms rendered scrawny, the back muscles torn; if our artists were not chained and our poets constrained by the dreadful words of Sacrilege and Profanation; if the Virgin Mary had been the mother of Pleasure, or rather, the mother of God, if her beautiful eyes, her beautiful breasts, her beautiful buttocks had been what had attracted the Holy Spirit towards her, and had had that written on the Book of his history; if the angel Gabriel had been glorified by the beauty of his shoulders; if Madeleine had had a sort of gallant adventure with Christ; if during the Wedding at Cana, Christ, between two glasses of wine, in a somewhat non-conformist manner,threw glances at both the breasts of a prostitute and Saint John’s buttocks, uncertain if he’d stay faithful or not to the apostle with the chin in bloom with its first beard: you would see what our painters, our poets, our sculptors could accomplish; in what tone would we speak of their charms, which would play such a great and marvelous role in the history of our religion and our God; and how would we stare at the beauty to which we owe our birth, the incarnation of the Saviour, and the grace of our redemption."

Denis Diderot, Essay on Painting, written in 1765, but published posthumously around the year 1790’s

frech original under the cut

« (…) si nos prêtres n’étaient pas de stupides bigots ; si cet abominable christianisme ne s’était pas établi par le meurtre et par le sang ; si les joies de notre paradis ne se réduisaient pas à une impertinente vision béatifique de je ne sais quoi, qu’on ne comprend ni n’entend ; si notre enfer offrait autre chose que des gouffres de feux, des démons hideux et gothiques, des hurlements et des grincements de dents ; si nos tableaux pouvaient être autre chose que des scènes d’atrocité, un écorché, un pendu, un rôti, un grillé, une dégoûtante boucherie ; si tous nos saints et nos saintes n’étaient pas voilés jusqu’au bout du nez, si nos idées de pudeur et de modestie n’avaient proscrit la vue des bras, des cuisses, des tétons, des épaules, toute nudité ; si l’esprit de mortification n’avait flétri ces tétons, amolli ces cuisses, décharné ces bras, déchiré ces épaules ; si nos artistes n’étaient pas enchaînés et nos poètes contenus par les mots effrayants de sacrilège et de profanation ; si la vierge Marie avait été la mère du plaisir, ou bien, mère de Dieu, si c’eût été ses beaux yeux, ses beaux tétons, ses belles fesses, qui eussent attiré l’Esprit-Saint sur elle, et que cela fût écrit dans le livre de son histoire ; si l’ange Gabriel y était vanté par ses belles épaules ; si la Madeleine avait eu quelque aventure galante avec le Christ ; si, aux noces de Cana, le Christ entre deux vins, un peu non-conformiste, eût parcouru la gorge d’une des filles de noce et les fesses de saint Jean, incertain s’il resterait fidèle ou non à l’apôtre au menton ombragé d’un duvet léger : vous verriez ce qu’il en serait de nos peintres, de nos poètes et de nos statuaires ; de quel ton nous parlerions de ces charmes, qui joueraient un si grand et si merveilleux rôle dans l’histoire de notre religion et de notre Dieu ; et de quel œil nous regarderions la beauté à laquelle nous devrions la naissance, l’incarnation du Sauveur, et la grâce de notre rédemption. »

Denis Diderot, Essai sur la peinture, écrit en 1765, mais de publication posthume environ les années 1790’s

[jayktoralldaylong]

TOG Final Book SPOILERS

The only thing more depressing than your favourite character dying is mourning a character that no one even talks about anymore. Connal Moonbeam existed for just 6 pages but he'll live forever in my heart.

I hate it. I hate that he died exactly the way he'd feared to live. I hate that he probably felt he deserved it. I hate that his final words were stolen. I hate that their final moments were stolen. I hate that he died on cold tile staring helplessly at his brother. I hate that him being an SA victim is never addressed. I hate that he was a few days away from rescue and freedom but not even that could save him from Maeve.

If there's one thing I'll never forgive that author for, it's not what happened at the gate. It's that Connall Moonbeam never got to tell his brother "I love you." I hate that Fenrys will never know how much his brother loved him, so much that Connall understood that Fenrys had made a choice, he'd chosen Aelin. Fenrys wanted Connall to choose Aelin too, but Connall knew Maeve wouldn't let them both leave alive, so he chose to do one last honourable thing for the brother he'd accidentally dragged into hell with him.

[golvio]

Sometimes I wonder if I write Ghirahim too butch or if the fandom is just completely wrong about him.

[moistvonlipwig]

I'm not a big Star Wars person, but it's implied in Once Upon a Time that Regina Mills is, and I'm pretty confident that her favorite Star Wars character is Anakin Skywalker.

Firstly, the fashion sense. Forget Luke's Chanel boots, Darth Vader had the cuntiest outfits in that whole galaxy, and Regina as a certified fashion icon would appreciate that.

Secondly, the love for his son. I can imagine this hitting different for Regina at different points in time. Before adopting Henry, she'd probably feel a longing for that kind of bond. Maybe she'd even see herself in Luke and she'd wish that her mother had been willing to change for her like Anakin did, or that her father had been strong enough to stand up to her mother like Vader did to Palpatine. After adopting Henry and before the curse broke, I imagine she'd respect Anakin, look up to him even. She'd vow to put her son first like he did, no matter what happened, but she wouldn't yet see herself as needing to change like he did. And finally, years after the curse broke, I think she'd see Anakin as a kindred spirit, and she would feel sad for him that he didn't have more time with Luke. But it would still warm her heart that Luke kept trying to save him.

Thirdly, and perhaps most crucially, the way he had been systematically stripped of his personhood and sought to reaffirm it. I think Regina would regard the prequels as not being very good movies, but she would have a soft spot for them nonetheless. I can imagine the first time she saw The Phantom Menace and baby Anakin, a child slave stripped of freedom and personhood by the society he lived in, telling Padme, "I'm a person, and my name is Anakin." I think that probably made her cry -- to see under the hood of this larger-than-life villain to the trapped child underneath, the child who had never been free, trading one master for another his whole life, who nonetheless asserted his personhood in such a plain, defiant way. I'm sure she'd read and watched all of this Earth's versions of the Snow White fairytale by now, and yet she didn't see herself in any of the various Evil Queens. The fairytale portrayals of her robbed her of her humanity the same way the society she came from did, the same way Cora, Leopold, and Rumple did. But when baby Anakin asserted his own humanity to Padme, she finally saw herself -- not in any fairytale villain but in a child longing to be free, to be acknowledged as human, for that's what she, too, has wanted all along. "I'm a person," baby Anakin would say onscreen, "and my name is Anakin." I'm a person, too, she would think, and my name is Regina.

[ralexsol]

wonder if tealor briefly had a sense of deja vu when looking at the prophet for the first time. like they were strangely familiar. through the fog of his memories, he sees a flash of 3 years before, when he was approached by a shadow figure who emanated the same otherworldly aura. the prophet is naive and untrained. but the shadow god, despite still being early on in their quest, was already ready and waiting to take on fate

[bunnihearted]

rightism is on the rise all over the world in times where we desperatly need compassion and acts to save the climate, but i am just a "stupid misanthrope" for hating humanity and having no hope ..........

[penwrythe]

Learning how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable is important. I'm genuinely not okay when I hear, see, and research more about the genocide happening in Gaza, the history of Israel's founding, and its terroristic actions. It is important for me to know.

Taking short breaks (usually a couple of hours or so) does help when things get too much. Then, I return and continue engaging with reblogs on Palestine.

I really don't know what else to say, but this genocide must end. All genocides must end and must never happen again. Keep talking about Palestine, Armenia, Congo, and Sudan! Keep protesting! Keep fighting!

What is important now is to be as loud as you can be! Raise ruckus! Make your voice unavoidable! Be as annoying as possible! Do not let your representatives ignore this!

[vergilsexual]

DBH AU where Vergil is struggling to embrace his deviant, human-like side. he is fully made up of biocomponents and software, hell, he doesn’t even have a heart. according to the hypothesis he’s formed, there’s an irreparable, indescribable damage inside his mechanical mind. how could a mere object, just a tool to be used and discarded, ever comprehend the depth of love?

[drc00l4tt4]

I want people to ship my Melvinborg aus the way people shipped Sans AUs. I want fan children that make literally no sense. I want people to be fucking crazy and cringe. Also tag me if you do any of these things.

[icy-book]

I need him gone, please and thank

[v2is-baby]

you all wanting to bang the robots while I'm here wondering if there's any way to grant true freedom to a machine. and if I cannot bring free will, freedom to a machine tied by its false sentience and programming; then how am I supposed to know what freedom is if i am myself a slave of something greater like them.

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

@thedragonagelesbian replied to your post “Oughhhh they're in love...”:

what's going thru majexatli's mind during the dance?? the people (me) want to know

​Oh,.. So much. They're trying to play it cool but their mind is racing so much.

Because like, it's such a genuine and sweet moment, yeah? And Majexatli is I think like, really realizing like "oh he cares about me" and also "oh fuck, I think I seriously care about him". Like, they had kissed Wyll at the tiefling party and from the beginning have been on his side and caring about him. But I think the dance is when they like, properly realize like oh, oh, this is more than just some flirting or a quick fling.

Majexatli has never really been romanced. Over the decades since Althyran, they've hooked up on occasion, and other than those flings, their only prior experience is Althyran. And I think there is a bit of that realization, right, the fact that Althyran never was romantic, he never would have danced with them. They had normalized it so much in their head, convinced themselves Althyran was kind and had at some point cared about him. But the more they experience love and affection now with Wyll, they realize just how much they've missed out on.

There's like, what I said once about how with Althyran, Majexatli wanted some storybook romance. They thought Althyran was some prince charming. All they wanted was a love story where they end up married and have a family, and that's still something they cling to as an ideal. They never got that with Althyran. And now here Wyll is, teaching them how to dance by the fireside, saying how he wants to romance them properly, like the old tales of love sung by bards. Wyll is the ideal partner they've dreamed about. The ideal that they've basically given up on and believed they would never get or deserve.

There is something wonderous and soft and new and blooming and alive in the kindness and love and sincerity Wyll shows towards them.

But it also brings up a lot of fear and doubt and angst.

But! They still have their initial knee-jerk reaction of this has to be an act. And they have the feeling that Wyll loves the persona they've put on, he wants to romance the gentle sage Druid, not the bitter monsterous Malarite that they are. And the guilt that they feel they're lying to him by letting him fall in love with a version of them that is fake.

So you know. There's just. So many layers.

Having a genuine moment of respite from all the horrors

Experiencing genuine romance for the first time in their life

Realizing how much Wyll cares for them and that he loves them

Realizing that they somehow have grown to deeply love and care for Wyll despite everything

Realizing that they can have the fairytale romance they wanted when they were younger

Realizing how far from a fairytale everything with Althryan was

Fearing that if Wyll is genuine, then they've been horrifically dishonest and cruel by letting him fall for a version of them that isn't real

Fearing that maybe Wyll is like Althyran, like they thought initially (they thought Althyran and what he gave them was something picturesque and magical, though know in hindsight it wasn't. What if years down the line they look back and see that they were wrong for believing Wyll was some prince-charming type)

Fearing that they're falling into the same trap they did when they were younger with Althyran.

Fearing that they don't belong in a fairytale romance or a love story

Fun fact. The WIP I've shared a bit of? With Wyll fighting a wolf (that is Majexatli)? Yeah. So. In my canon, that happens the same night, after the dance. They hold themselves together long enough but once Wyll returns to his tent, Majexatli transforms and runs off into the night to tear apart anything they can find that's living.

They don't know how to process everything they're feeling, but to them, their worship of Malar is about honesty, about truth, as messy and violent as the honest truth can be. They need to work through all the issues that Althyran left them with and come to terms with their feelings for Wyll (as terrifying as they are) and Wyll's feelings for them. So much old pain and new worries and unknowns and not knowing how to move forward. And they can't process it all as Majexatli, they need to be the messy imperfect emotional being that they only feel they can be when they're a monster.

Something something fantasy high junior year and all the talk about the relationship between doubt and rage.

[ltadoriyuujl]

hey was no one going to mention that gideon was a slave.