#just let me rule you

[lazylittledragon]

can't believe we're all adults being forced into the club penguin level of censorship in 2024

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Hot take maybe but I think Bertie would be FAR more likely to survive the first two months of Dracula than Jeeves would be. Bertie has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Jeeves consistently underestimates how dangerous a situation might get (Steeple Bumpleigh, the club book) because he’s overconfident about his level of control over any given situation. He'd handle Dracula masterfully if they faced off in England, but on Dracula's home turf? Much more doubtful.

I realize this might be a tough sell, so I will explain further (or it's not a tough sell, and I'm going to explain further because I want to). (criteria taken from @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula) Without further ado.

Would Jeeves and Wooster survive Castle Dracula?

Jeeves

Jeeves' survival will depend on how long Dracula finds him more entertaining than irritating. On that basis, I don't think he's long for this world. On the one hand, he has a huge wealth of knowledge about English society and culture that he can recite perfectly from memory. That should buy him at least a little time with noted teaboo Dracula.

On the other hand, he would be absolutely no fun as a vampire plaything. Jeeves cannot be got. Sneaking up on him while he's shaving will yield zero reaction (though that's at least good for his short-term survival--given that, although he DID take the crucifix from the old woman out of politeness, he certainly isn't going to wear it. The rules of fashion don't go out the window just because you're in a spooky castle). Then, although managing the whims of rich jerks is not an insignificant part of a valet's job, Jeeves usually does this by bending his employers to his will. Dracula is not the sort of employer this will work on. It'll just add insult to injury when on top of being impossible to scare, NOW Jeeves is telling Dracula that his favorite cloak is several centuries out of fashion and he's not allowed to wear it anymore.

Jeeves will 100% go exploring in the areas he was told not to go-- though to be fair, he MIGHT actually get away with this, what with his superpower of appearing in rooms without being seen or heard. Said superpower might save him from the brides as well (though this is by no means guaranteed). Since I find it doubtful that Dracula would come to rescue his annoying ass, not being noticed is his best defense.

There are a couple other things working in Jeeves's favor; the question is just whether they'll be enough to save him.

He DOES know shorthand, and could try to send coded letters. He might even have the foresight to squirrel away some extra stationary where Dracula can't find it. But could he get them posted? Would it even do him any good?

He certainly has enough cultural literacy to figure out what his new boss is pretty quickly. If he didn't chuck the crucifix out the carriage window, he might start carrying it around in his pocket.

Psychology of the individual, sure, but the individual in question is a 400-year-old vampire who lives in an isolated castle in a foreign country and is regarded as a terrifying mythological figure in the surrounding villages. Jeeves has never come up against anything this alien before, he's cut off from his normal resources, and opportunities to play people against each other are limited.

He probably has enough upper body strength from all that shrimping and fishing to climb the wall, so he COULD escape if he wanted to, if he survived long enough. It's just, again, that overconfidence, and also Dracula has a vast library full of rare old books that are entirely at his disposal. He's keeping his eyes and ears alert for potential escape strategies, of course, but I don't see him being as desperate to get out as Jonathan was.

There are just a lot of "depends on"s here, and I'm not convinced that luck would shake out in Jeeves's favor, all things considered.

Bertie

Bertie is so perfect for the job of Castle Dracula Prisoner it's like it was made for him. Think about it. Being held against his will in big manor houses comes more naturally to him than breathing. He's afraid of things that are scary. A lifetime of dealing with Aunt Agatha has made him the world's preeminent expert in "curl[ing] up in a ball in the hope that a meek subservience [will] enable [him] to get off lightly." He will NEVER go exploring in places he's been warned away from if nobody is forcing him to (Rev. Aubrey Upjohn's office notwithstanding. There were biscuits in there). He's both fun to talk to and easy to toy with (and extremely English). A+ prisoner. Dracula adores him.

In my opinion, Bertie is at Castle Dracula either because Aunt Agatha got some wires seriously crossed and thinks he’s going to meet an eligible potential bride (I mean, there are certainly brides there), or because Dracula has something Aunt Dahlia wants him to steal (far less likely, given that one of Dracula’s THINGS is famously not owning anything silver). Either way, he's shown himself entirely willing and able to escape down drainpipes if a sitch gets too scaly.

He DOES take the crucifix, and DOES wear it (which is what will save him during the shaving scene, because you KNOW he's going to jump a foot and cut himself like the dickens). He's read enough supernatural goosefleshers to be genre savvy about terrified old women cryptically pushing crucifixes into one's hands. I also think his sunny disposish endeared him to the villagers, and they were particularly vehement about urging him not to go. He doesn't speak German or Romanian, but he's empathetic enough to recognize Pure Terror. So by the time he actually gets to the castle, his imagination is already running wild and he's plenty aware that he is in imminent danger.

I think the biggest risk to Bertie will be the brides; whether or not he's susceptible to trances, if he thinks they're trying to marry him, it's against the code of the Woosters to turn them down. But that only becomes an issue if he comes face to face with them, which, luckily, I think is unlikely on account of the aforementioned "won't go exploring" (and if he did, Dracula would definitely rescue him).

I'm inclined to say due to his drainpipe-escape habits that he WOULD be able to climb the wall and MAY attempt to sneak into Dracula's room to look for the keys if his desperation grows to outweigh his fear. Whether he does or not, though, he does NOT have the stomach to attempt shovel murder, and therefore won't get magic brain fever, and may very well simply walk out the front doors when the people come to take the boxes away. OR he climbs his way out like Jonathan did. Either way.

When Bertie tells this story at the Drones later, Tuppy will say that no doubt it's been greatly exaggerated and all that probably happened was that he spent a couple months in an oldish house entertaining a weird loner.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hello Madam. Sorry Madam.

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[vaguely-concerned]

the fact that irving canonically survives through the end of asunder to be at wynne's funeral is so fucking funny to me. nothing but love and respect for MY unstoppable cockroach morally grey machiavellian mage dad!!! he's survived in his position through multiple attempted rites of annulment and blood mage plots popping up left right and center around him. the chantry keeps trying to stamp him out but his dodge game is simply out of this world, divine. civil wars, political machinations and minefields, chantry atrocities, this wily old motherfucker is dodging and weaving his way through it all, not-quite-no-hits-taken-running-it-but-honestly-close-enough-under-the-circumstances style. if solas does succeed in tearing down the veil I would fully believe that one of the like three people still alive at the end of it all would be a very weary 90 year old first enchanter irving going 'oh this shit again huh'. the maker has cursed him for his hubris and his paperwork is never finished (affectionate, it's fine he canonically loves paperwork)

[haveihitanerve]

Somebody: Jasons so angry and aggressive and kills people- hes the most violent batfamily member Bruce-I-would-have-killed-joker-had-fucking-superman-not-stopped-me-and-I-would-do-it-again-if-any-harm-befalls-my-family-also-i-beat-up-people-daily-as-therapy-wayne: what? Dick-i-was-planning-a-mans-murder-at-age-eight-and-would-have-done-it-also-i-didn't-have-superman-so-i-did-kill-joker-Grayson-Wayne: huh? Tim-My-body-count-is-probably-six-digits-by-now-but-it-doesn't-count-if-bruce-doesn't-know-stalker-Drake-Wayne: repeat that? Damian-i-came-with-the-katana-and-a-body-count-at-age-eight-wayne: what did you say about Ahki? Stephanie-i-will-crack-mad-funny-jokes-while-beating-your-face-in-with-a-brick-Brown-Wayne: waht? Barbara-i-wouldn't-but-like-i-could-and-i-know-you-and-your-entire-family-extending-to-your-great-uncle-thirteen-times-removed-Gordon-Wayne: *typing on keyboard* what was that? Duke-I-created-a-cult-about-robin-and-also-i-was-raised-in-gotham: sorry?

[notmoreflippingelves]

Actually going insane over the implications of Jason asking Dick to be the Robin to his Batman in Battle for the Cowl.

Like I initially took it at the purely surface-level of Jason wanting a partner in the general sense. Which made sense, it's a huge responsibility and a lonely one so an assistant/sidekick/partner seems a no-brainer if you can get one.

But then I really thought about it, because Jason is not asking Dick to be his partner in the general sense; he's not even asking Dick to be his Nightwing. He's asking Dick to be his Robin.

And they both know exactly what Jason means: "Be the light to my darkness. Be the smile to my scowl. Be the hope to my fear. "

He's saying "Be 'Robin'; be the embodiment of Love and Justice and Goodness. Be the exceptional person that you have always been. Be the slightly-less exceptional person that I was when I wore your colors. Be the person that I was in the process of becoming and might have been (or might still be), if only Joker hadn't clipped my wings."

He's saying "I am prepared to become vengeance, become the Night. And I will go further than Bruce ever dared to, because it is what is needed. I will be the necessary evil. But you don't have to be. If Batman is Gotham's curse, Robin has always been its blessing. I will be the brutal punishment to our world, and I am asking you to be its incandescent gift."

He's saying, "Be for me, what we were for Him. Be my anchor, my comfort, my hope. Remind me what it's all for, why it's all worth it. And remind yourself as well."

He's saying "Be 'Robin' again--for both of our sakes."

[irishmammonagenda]

Your head hits your pillow. Your heavy eyes close, leaving your world in darkness.

Darkness that for a split second turns into the most fiery terrifying pits of hell before being overwritten.

Darkness that brightens up into a luscious garden, one in which a tanned woman is standing, arms crossed.

Her long inky black hair blows softly in the wind at the same rhythm of her softly fluttering garments. She looks familiar in the way of deja vu.

You feel drawn to her, so you walk closer, close enough to be at arm's length.

She slaps you.

"Ow! What was that for?!" You blink, taking a step back.

"That was for being an idiot." The woman shrugs, her lips are the same shape as Lucifer's when he scowls. You shudder. "I mean honestly," She grabs your shoulders and shakes you. "I thought you were smarter than this."

"Smarter than what?" You get out rather shakily seeing as you're being shaken. She sighs and holds her head in her hands, now leaning against a tree.

"Have I taught you nothing? Has all my guidance been for nothing?"

You pause. "....You're Lilith."

She nods, "And you're quite intellectually challenged by the looks of it."

A crow caws in the distance, probably laughing at that one.

"Mean."

"MC."

You turn your attention back to your ancestor and smile innocently. "Yes?"

Lilith grabs you by the shoulders, and you brace yourself, preparing to be shaken again, but you're not. Instead the most beautiful grey eyes look into yours, eyes that held a storm in them. " I don't care if you have pacts with the Seven Avatars Of Sin. I don't care if you have the Demon Prince and Butler wrapped around your finger. Your never ever ever, fuck with an ouija board."

"I was in the Human Realm with my human friends! We got bored and I missed everyone!"

Lilith deadpans. "You have a DDD."

"....Good point?"

"I'm serious MC. As your great times a thousand billionth grandmother, I forbid you from playing with that board again. Even the Wise Sorcerer doesn't use ouija boards! Mostly because the demons in those boards have a restraining order against him....but still."

"So, you're banning me?"

Lilith smirks, "If I even catch wind or even suspect you're using one again. Especially as stupidly as you used the one with your human friends, I'm going to write a letter detailing your exploits and have the breeze blow it atop of both Lucifer and Barbatos' desks."

Your eyes widen in terror. "Are you...blackmailing me?"

"Yes." She smiles.

"God Dammit."

The world fades into black once more, you see glimpses of horrors beyond your comprehension for a split second once more as you feel yourself be shaken awake.

The Avatar of Sloth looks at you sternly, almost as if he was mimicking Lucifer. Jealousy in his gaze. "Care to tell me why your dreams are infested with demons that aren't me?"

He's already in demon form. Damn.

You blink. Those images that flashed for a second was what was supposed to be your dreams? So Lilith took you out of your dreams? So he couldn't see Lilith?

Belphie blinks, holding eye contact with you as he slinks sneakily into your bed beside you. "So who are those guys? Your new dream buddies?" He scoffs, acting more like his older, more envious brother for a moment.

"...I...." You look away from him. "Don't tell Lucifer....but...when I was in the Human Realm....I might've maybe....messed around with some stuff?"

Belphie stretches intertwining your legs with his, "What stuff." It was hardly a question.

"...Ouija boards?"

"You idiot." He says as his tail smacks you, before wrapping around your waist like a shackle.

"...Don't worry, MC." He says in a softer tone, though the sinister look on his face said otherwise, "...I'll flush those bastards out."

"....Thanks Belphie."

He looks at you through half lidded eyes as he rests his chin on your chest. "If you do something stupid like that again while in the Human Realm, I don't think I'll let you leave next time you come back down here."

Belphie smiles as the both of you fall asleep, the low life demons he originally thought were secret boyfriends (he doesn't think straight when he's jealous) but were actually just stupid enough to latch themselves onto you had actually done him a favour. This would be a great thing to bring up to a certain six brothers he had if you ever tried to leave the Devildom for so long again.

[elsecrytt]

masochist gojo. gojo who's in love with pain, so much that it feels like pleasure, he can barely distinguish between the two anymore.

gojo who's so starved for touch. who's had an infinite space between himself and the whole world for so long, for so many years, every day in and day out.

gojo who's survived off glancing presses when a barista hands him a coffee, the rare hug from his students (who are mostly orphans) that he can't bring himself to decline.

gojo who craves more but can't bring himself to accept it except in fleeting moments with strangers or students.

his hands that long to be held. he wants it so bad that he teases a cursed spirit, laces his fingers with its own, right before he utterly crushes the being in battle, untouchable all over again.

gojo whose skin is hungry for someone else's. he hasn't felt the warmth of a hand in his own in so long. not since - since his youth.

gojo who sometimes wishes he could get hit. who sees the impact of curse techniques on his infinity and feels a wild, strange desire for them to go straight through and strike him.

he imagines it, vividly, being impaled by a long spear (inverted spear) that goes straight through him. how it would lance his flesh so cleanly.

being struck so hard, across the face, in the stomach, enough to knock the wind out of him.

enough to feel it with his whole body.

gojo who wants to be touched so bad he doesn't even care if it hurts anymore. infinity couldn't protect him from geto's betrayal.

gojo who keeps infinity up not because he doesn't want to get hit, but because he's terrified of what he might do when it happens.

gojo who got hard whenever geto sparred with him. he still doesn't know if it was because of geto, or because he had no infinity back then, no way to block the strikes.

he dreams of his youth. bruises littering his pale, pretty form like kisses, proof that he was human, there, that there was someone who could reach him.

dark purple things that turned pretty colors as they healed. he remembers pressing into them, relishing the hurt, feeling like he was getting hit (touched, reached, connected) all over again.

nothing ever touches him again. not like that. not like anything.

he never feels it. he never feels anything.

satoru gojo who wants, so very very badly, to feel something.

pain is a choice for him, always a choice. he alone has the privilege of deciding whether or not anything can touch him.

he could try to let more strangers touch him. one night stands, discreet arrangements. he had a pretty face and a body to match. there was no shortage of willing partners.

he lets them touch him, lets them hurt him. lets them drool over his body and use it at their leisure. they tell him he's beautiful, and he believes them.

white hair, blue eyes, sprawled out with a lean, unmarred body full of bare flesh for them to bite and scratch and bruise. he finds people who will do it, do it hard, fuck him up until he's lost entirely in the feeling of being touched, having someone against him, with him, above him.

it makes him feel like a piece of meat. it makes him feel good.

or he thinks it does, anyways.

sometimes, when he's gone particularly long without sleep, when his partner has gone particularly hard, he gets a real rush.

heart racing out of his chest. a cold sweat that overwhelms him. breaths coming in labored gasps. he can heal himself, he's physically fine, so this must all be in his head.

he acknowledges that information, distantly, like it's not happening to him. it doesn't help.

it feels like part of his body has been ripped away from him, something vital and important, and it's about to get up and run away.

always, always, it happens when his partner is no longer touching him. when he lays alone in the sheets, by his own volition, because of course these partners are not meant to be attachments.

love is not a privilege, though, not for the strongest sorcerer. it's a curse.

it's the only curse which infinity cannot protect him from.

so gojo stays untouchable. distant.

but the hunger doesn't go away. never.

he likes to imagine that suguru swallowed this one last curse before he died. something sweet and bitter, like losses at the arcade, sunny days at the beach, walking together with shoko, nanami, haibara.

but even suguru couldn't have absorbed this curse. it's in his bones, deep, longing and wanting even after he's dead and gone.

gojo is hungry. he is so, so hungry. and he has nothing to eat that will not leave him just as empty as before.

touch-starved. love-starved. pain-craving.

if someone could hurt him then it wouldn't matter that he was terrified of attachment. they could latch onto him, into his heart, under his skin. bury themselves in his chest like they belonged.

they could kill a hundred and twelve people and it wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't be able to kill them.

gojo is hungry, so hungry.

please feed him.

[pippenpaddlopsicopolisthethird]

Maybe this is just me griping but I think we need to get rid of the category of "exempt workers". I think if you have federal standards that protect people from overwork you shouldnt get to say "oh yeah and anyone who gets a salary or works on a computer or has a job that needs a degree or does paperwork doesn't get that". Make the Fair Labor Standards Act apply to all workers actually

[pinkinsect]

i am nothing like him. my anger is only righteous. i am righteous.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i finished reading krakoa era and comic cherik are amazing SO i wanted to ask do you have any favorite issues/series i still don't really remember how to call it where cherik are also cool?? some iconis comic moments with them maybe??

im FARRR from finishing all of krakoa (ive probably barely even made a dent in this series), though i do think following the HoX + PoX issues themselves are great if we're talkin cherik-focused issues/books. i already said one of my fave aspects of cherik is their moments working together, so having a whole Omnibus dedicated to them Working Together and trusting each other (bonus points for Protective Erik with the Something Sinister bit) is already guaranteeing a sure spot in my Faves collection

one of my fave cool moments i've read so far- which is a moment i wager a lot of people can agree is Sick As Hell Visually if i may be so daring- is ABSOLUTELY this sequence from Inferno #4

any time erik and charles get to do some bamf shit together it is IMMEDIATELY peak to me this cannot be disputed and i'd be lying if i didn't say i bought this run solely for this moment here (ignore the fact they fumble this fight horribly that dont matter they looked cool as hell for five seconds !!!!!!!!!!!)

i can't wait to read more and find even more moments i love and want to tape to my eyelids <3 !!

[shadowqnights]

crazy how everything about mcd is so much more insane when you apply what i call the dog rule and that is when they are all dogs now in some way shape or form: an analysis.

when garroth is purebred, a hound made to serve, that does not know how to do anything but heel. he has purpose. he is sleek and well-groomed because he has to be, because he has always been tended to. a dog that falls into desperate spiral when that dynamic shifts - because who is he, without someone to follow, protect, love? a dog that becomes flea-bitten and hungry when he runs because he was never taught to take care of himself, to be his own master. he falls apart. he needs this, he knows, but what is he without someone to own him? a dog that cannot lead any kind of pack or family because it is afraid to understand the kind of animal it is if not in submission. if a parent, a teacher, he is promptly punished by his students as cruel reminder that he is not allowed to find joy in anything other than what his makers intended. a dog so desperate that it offers up its own leash to whoever will take it when things crumble - even if it means turning back to distasteful company. as long as it is held at all. time and time again, he tried to tend to the younger, weaker. he tried to feed them and lick their wounds - and time and time again, only to be mauled in turn. no more, he thinks. life was simpler when he was mindless, just four paws and a purpose. if that was what he was bred for, what business does he have pretending?

when laurance is a stray but made out of love. his coat shines thanks to the love of his family, his sister. he is sleek and well-groomed with them. the nether breaks him in, turns him a little wild. gives him cause to show teeth when threatened. when he bites, he mauls. there is something wicked in his animal eyes. he goes for the kill. when he bites, something in him wants it to hurt - whether his prey or himself, he can't tell. a part of the dog believes the suffering is natural because its maker declared it so. the pain wanes in and out like the cycle of the moon; life is unpredictable. he is braced to survive, sometimes with teeth already bared to expect the suffering. constantly on edge, pacing, waiting for the next disaster. a loyal, desperate pet that will follow to the ends of the earth - a desperation that borders on obsession. he will eat you alive, if only you would stay with him, inside of him, never leave him. never look at anyone else the way you would him. don't put him on a leash - let him choose who to lope after. his leash, in fact, is in tatters. he can't be collared. he merely follows, hungry at the heels of who fed him. his sense of duty is not of obligation but of love, a sacred need to stay at the side of those who treated him with kindness and them alone. and worse, he is burdened with the constant fear that if left untethered for too long, that obsession might turn carnal - that if wronged, he may not kill to eat and feel full, but kill merely to feel the blood on his teeth, just to feel the pain. feel something. anything. that he might enjoy the taste of his loved ones. maybe a leash is the right thing. maybe he needs to be caged. he can't bear either thought.

when they both bite the hand that fed them. when they bite each other. when they are dogs and kind of made for each other.

dante is a dog. aaron is a dog. aph is a dog. katelyn? oh you fucking guessed it. ivy. jeffory. zane. yeah. all of them are dogs. welcome to the dog rule fuckers its exactly how it sounds. are you sick of the word dog yet.

[grian-updates]

Scar doxed Grian in a twitter post!

Yep, our guy is still going.

Fish.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Game night ruined.

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[goldkirk]

hey this isn’t aimed at anyone in particular but I’m saying it for the record here: if I tell you no, please stop messaging me about fundraisers and mutual aid.

I get enough messages that it’s impossible for me to keep up without devoting at least half an hour each day, when I’m not even on tumblr that long most days. Me having a boundary about this isn’t a moral failing, it’s a lifeboat for me on my own blog.

In my personal life I’m already advocating and donating literally as much as I can spare. This is not me not caring, it’s just me not willing to interact with that on the one place I go online to not interact with irl news and world events for the most part.

I cannot be upset all the time. I cannot be upset everywhere. I cannot use all my emotional and mental energy fielding my own upset from ongoing events. My options are to hold boundaries about this or stop coming online at all.

I’m all for sharing information and signal boosting to reasonable extents, but the scale of it this year is so large and so enduring that it is literally not possible to for me to participate on every account I have. I’ve previously shared links to Gaza eSIM donations and a major hub of verified Go Fund Mes here and elsewhere online. We, the online humans, know how to look those things up ourselves by now. There are many, many people choosing to do advocacy work, and right now, I can’t be one of them.

If you’re extremely upset when I tell you I can’t share/donate right now about a Gaza family or personal fundraiser you ask me to share here, just unfollow and block me. That’s what those buttons are for. Protect your own emotions and energy and get me off your feed instead of staying upset and continuing to engage with online people or content that upsets you.

Please don’t send repeated angry messages based on manufactured purity politics and moral outrage into my messages and inbox when I exercise the right to run my own blog.

[spaciebabie]

at first getting diagnosed with cptsd was like, "yay my trauma has been validated (it always was valid)!" and i really thought that was going to be it, but then i started to do research as i do whenever i realize i have something and learned that!! the way i experience socialization is!! quite horrid actually!!