#naming rites

[ghostjelliess]

Hi, I have to rant about naming customs (socially, not for baby):

I was just doing some research on naming rites for a paper (specifically, I was looking at common patterns of forming courtesy names in the Tang Dynasty) and I stumbled over an old reddit thread of people trying to wrap their heads around ancient naming customs in relation to a show. They were struggling with it, repeating the same wiki quotes and theories over and over amongst themselves. It was sad, kind of painful to read.

It suddenly struck me that many people have no concept of their time. Like, without any technology, your name was your word, it is evidence used against you if someone doesn't like you, or your only defense against false accusation. Your identity is tied to your name, your name is tied to your station and your heritage, keeping it close to you is a private right, but also a protection. At a certain point in Dutch history (and maybe Germanic? Maybe it's just Frisian....), knowing someone's full name could tell you their entire lineage, because family names were cycled through in a specific order by birth and relation (so you don't have to remember your whole family tree, you can just rotate the names backwards and get grandparents, aunts and uncles, etc.)—but if one of those relatives was ✨Prolemat-ique✨, maybe you don't want anyone knowing you're blood-related, so you go by your quirky nickname that has more to do with what you looked like as a baby or a particularly stand-out trait or skill than an actually shortening of your formal name.

And that's not even mentioning cultural beliefs in curses, supernatural beings, etc. that could steal your identity or life by the power your name, OR of any of the historical records or folktales of identities being stolen by the presentation of a secret formal (usually royal) name. A princess is stripped of her title because her maid stole her name no one else was supposed to know except for royals and married the faraway prince. A lord is executed because a con-artist used his name at a foreign port and tanked his credit. The name of a god is kept secret because it's too powerful, or else uttering it at all is punishable by death. Claiming to be who you are not, whether a god, a lord, or a princess, that basic manipulation, was so much easier and potentially devastating, that it was seen as a social sleight rather than a personal one, an unforgiveable deception. And when travel is difficult and people consist of a census count, their living name, an ID tablet or charm depending on their class, and their grave, it's not so difficult to go to a place where the face that matches the name is unknown....

But maybe we don't read these pieces in our stories anymore because they've become so distant to us. We think of identity theft in the realm of sci-fi hackers and Guy Fawkes masks, and academic accolades as a list of nobel prize winners and scientific theory names. Maybe we only think about Rumpelstiltskin's name as a complicated trick because it's so strange that it's unguessable, rather than a potential way to control him, to force him to abide by the social rules and not take the baby, an illegal deal, because names make you accountable to actions. Aren't they still our primary identity though?

I was getting a little irritated (and also a little arrogant), in my field of thought bubbles that were all colliding, then a new thought hit me: we do still value naming customs, don't we. The more I thought about it, the more I came up with modern examples of us being protective of our names. We have "that's my name, don't wear it out," as if a name can be over-used. We give our heroes and villains epithets and titles tied to heritage and position. We write our names on every evidence of our work, signing our art, our cheques, our homework, our presentation files, our emails, our letters. Rappers and producers tag their songs audibly, and every souvenir shop has cases of junk accessories with a few of the most popular names, and whether yours is commonly present or not is a marker of social identity. We get mad when unfamiliar people call us by nicknames reserved for close family, or when they shorten our names without our consent; we reinvent ourselves, we change our names, we even give ourselves names to match cultures as we migrate, and that's not even mentioning usernames (particularly in context of online gaming, where you physically answer to your username because you are a teammate to strangers). Even though modern American English (MUSE) isn't considered a diglossia, doesn't have consistent honorifics or sociolects (highly debatable) within itself, we generally still culturally recognize a parent calling our Full Name™️ as uh-oh-in-trouble, a formal warning, and depending on where you grew up, the normal reserved response of "yeah/huh/what?" might become a formal callback of "yes sir/ma'am."

So then I was triple struck with epiphanies like BAM🤛BAM🤜BAM 👊

1. People struggle with the concept of foreign/ancient naming habits.

2. This is not because they are stupid. It is because they do not relate ancient or foreign customs to their own experiences (i.e. they do not observe themselves with the same scrutiny as they do others, while simultaneously still exhibiting similar cultural habits).

3. We do still hold ourselves accountable to our names, we are still protective of them and use many throughout our lives, because humans really haven't change all that much in five thousand years.

[plead-au]

YOU KNOW WHAT. I'M POSTING RAIN WORLD ART ON HERE. I'M TIRED OF BEING SHADOWBANNED ON MAIN. FREE ME FROM THIS TORMENT anyways RAIN WORLD BLAST !!!! FUCK YOU

#mamaposting

some of my OC arts. the slugcat is titled the Pawn, or preferably named Echo, and the iterator is named Phasing Nature :o)

also rhis one short animation of a slugcat

[noyzinerd]

Sterek Rival Lawyers AU

It's A (Court) Date

Imagine, high-class, Ivy League, hot-shot, attorney Derek comes back from New York to the family firm to take over as partners with his sister after his parents decide to step down. He may not be on the level of his mother yet, but he's cut his teeth against Wall Street wolves and ruthless white-collar sharks. Derek's more than proved himself, so he just can't fathom these small criminal court cases his family is making him take "before he's truly ready" to be a part of the family business.

Enter in his first case. Right out the gate, the state assigned defense is, not only late to court, but also arrives in a flurry of limbs and papers, tripping all over himself, and profusely apologizing to the room as a whole. "Sorry! Sorry! Car trouble!"

The guy is out of breath, tie crooked and hair a mess. It makes Derek wrinkle his nose at the unprofessionalism and the blatant disrespect to everyone's valuable time.

The presiding judge, the Honorable Ms. Lydia Martin, only sighs a heavy sigh, as if this sight is nothing new, and says "Mr. Stilinski, I suggest you don't let it happen again."

Derek is honestly getting annoyed by how easy this is going to be. He could've been doing literally anything else right about now rather than being here going against a common rent-a-lawyer with some Podunk community-college degree. The opening statement for the defense is laughably inept. Full of nervous stuttering, backtracking, running tangents, and babbling. He's still apologizing, trying to assure the jury that he's just having an off-day today.

It's embarrassing to watch.

Nonetheless, Derek goes through the motions, practiced and poised. Examines all the evidence, presenting times and dates, prior arrest records, the works.

During this time, Mr. Stilinski is frantically (and VERY LOUDLY) flitting through a cartoonishly large stack of papers and whispering to his client. Derek has to fight to grit his teeth through his presentation.

Finally, it's time for Mr. Stilinski to cross-examine Derek's client and, unbeknownst to him, the beginning of Derek's long, long spiral of madness for the rest of his career.

"Judge Martin, I would like to move to have this case thrown out."

"Oh?" asks Judge Martin. For some reason, there's an amused smirk, almost fond, tugging at her lips "On what grounds?"

A giddy, almost manic, grin takes over the defense attorney's face just then. "On the grounds that the prosecution's client is full of bullshit."

The judge rolls her eyes and an exasperated "Stiles," slips from her lips, seemingly against her will. (Derek's not really surprised by the familiarity between the two of them. With how often state-assigned lawyers are called to the courtroom on small cases, it wouldn't be too big of a leap to suggest they might be chummy.)

"Respectfully, of course." Mr. Stilinski--er Stiles?--winks back at her.

"Objection. Your honor, this is ridiculous."

"Overruled. Make your point, Stilinski."

"Mr. Davis says he saw my client at 12:30 P.M., on August 4th, attempting to take his back-right hubcap outside his apartment. Mr. Davis' apartment complex at that time, on that particular day, would have cast a huge shadow over the back lot as evidenced by the gaudy sundial-art-installation outside the courthouse. Meanwhile, my client's picture, when taken in for questioning, has a sunburn on the entire right side of his face. This would corroborate Mr. Lyle's story of walking home alone, down the upper, unshaded side of Elmore Street, during one of the hottest days of the year, for an hour straight. Also, the fact that Mr. Davis has no realistic idea how long it would actually take a person to steal a hubcap should be evidence enough."

"Uh-huh. And this wouldn't happen to be something you've ever had any expertise in, would it, counsel?"

"I plead the 5th."

And just like that, Derek's case is thrown out so quick, he's still reeling about it all the way home.

For the next two years, this becomes Derek's life. This man, this Stiles Stilinski, keeps showing up like a whirlwind and absolutely puts him in his paces.

Stiles, as he insists Derek call him, is a powerhouse. Relentless and unstoppable. That mouth can filibuster for literal hours (which, for those unfamiliar, is when someone legally cannot be forced to give up their time on the floor as long as they can keep talking), that brain quick as a whip, with a hunger for research, a mastery of the English language svelte enough to trip up even the most well-rehearsed lie, and an attention to detail like nothing Derek has ever witnessed before. It's like he knows every law inside and out. Lives it. Breathes it. It's like he had been raised on the law his whole life. Not only that, it's like Stiles enjoys it. Every case is a new game to get excited about.

All of it makes Derek's blood boil.

However, it's not always about losing to Stiles all the time, because, honestly, that might be less humiliating.

In truth, when faced against Stiles, Derek's bound to win about 60% of the time. Out of that 60%, only 5% of those wins actually feel earned. As for the other 55%?

He knows Stiles is letting him win.

Derek can't prove it, but he knows the asshole is holding back on purpose nearly half the time. Knowing that Stiles could have beaten him if he wanted to, but didn't, is somehow more frustrating than just losing.

He hates Stiles.

He hates that the guy is so chipper and playful all the damn time. He hates that Stiles could probably work at any firm he wanted, could make enough money to get a decent car that doesn't shit out all the time, could buy a proper-fitting suit, but instead CHOOSES to stay here "watching out for the little guy", as he so put it.

He hates that facing Stiles in court is the most challenged, the most motivated he's ever felt in his entire life. He hates that Stiles brings out in him the spark of passion and drive Derek had long thought had died. He hates that Stiles always tries to banter with him during recess or whenever they have to exchange evidence.

He hates finding out that Stiles only loses cases on purpose when his endless amounts of research points to the defendant actually being guilty of horrendous crimes, because Stiles is a good fucking person.

He hates Stiles' constant teasing and he hates that Stiles is somehow able to bring Derek down to his childish level to tease back. He hates how much he looks forward to court-dates with Stiles now. He hates being invited out by Stiles over and over to grab a bite together after a long day, as if Stiles hasn't been wiping the floor with him on this case for the last month. He hates it even more that he always accepts and that now they have their own designated booth at the diner across the street. Derek's so unbelievably frustrated, it makes him want to bite Stiles at the neck just to hear that smartass mouth squeal.

"Hey, I ever tell you I was thinking of quitting before you arrived?" Stiles asks one night as they're walking to their cars.

Derek's head immediately snaps to him at that. "What?"

Stiles smiles distantly at the thought. "Oh, yeah. Things had started feeling like being trapped in a cubicle, y'know? There wasn't any challenge in it anymore."

"What made you stay?"

"Well...you did. You were the first, serious competition I'd faced in a while. It wasn't a matter of winning just to win, anymore. Going against you always reminded me of the reason why it was important for me to win. It gave me stakes, because now there was an actual chance I could lose and an innocent person could go to jail. You, I don't know, kinda reignited my passion for fighting the good fight, I guess."

Derek can feel his heart thumping hard in his chest. He wants to say 'You did the same for me!' He wants to tell Stiles that he didn't think his life could ever be this fun or happy or messy or chaotic or exhilarating or challenging or fulfilling before coming to Beacon Hills.

But just as Derek goes to open his mouth to sing Stiles' praises, he instead finds himself roughly shoving him up against the Camaro and biting hungrily at that mouth and tongue that's been the bane of his existence. There's a surprised little squeak that Derek quickly swallows up, but it isn't long before they're both tearing at each others' clothes and fucking each other dirty in the backseat of Derek's car.

What's crazy is, after they get together, nothing in their careers really changes. The only difference is now they get to fuck each others' brains out after an intense battle in court (and the sound Stiles makes when Derek bites him is exactly what he always imagined it would sound like). They still face against each other on opposite sides in court. They still give it everything they got, no conceding even if they are dating now. Not to mention, Derek wouldn't dream of tempting Stiles over to his firm. Not when he knows Stiles is at his best staying where he's at.

The day Derek's family finally decides it's time for him to take over the firm with Laura is the best day of his and Stiles' lives.

Not only does Derek tell them he's declining, he hires Stiles as his attorney to negotiate terms against his entire family of well-seasoned lawyers.

The entire month-long negotiation results in Derek, not saying a single word, but absolutely beaming as he watches his boyfriend run circles around his mother, his father, his uncle, and both of his sisters on contracts. It's so unbelievably hot, they're banging on whatever flat surface they can get their hands on every time they leave the boardroom. There's even one very memorable blowjob in the empty hall outside the boardroom when Stiles somehow manages to get Peter to agree to a (most likely illegal) clause dictating the firm will pay Stiles a finder's fee for any pro-bono case Stiles takes on outside of Beacon Hills that strikes his fancy.

And, no one says it, but they all know Derek definitely, 100%, dragged his own firm through this negotiation just to show off how incredible Stiles is to his family and preen about it.

--

Fast-forward, Derek is going to be in the audience for the first time for one of Stiles' cases.

While waiting in the hall, Derek sees a familiar face from his New York days. The prosecution has hired the eighth best lawyer money can get, Jackson Whittemore. He's sporting a Rolex, sunglasses indoors, and the face of someone who thinks he's above literally every other person in town.

Well, at least until he sees Derek.

For some reason, Jackson seems to think Derek is all the way out in the middle of nowhere to 'watch a master at work' (which...well...is technically true...).

As Derek goes to sit in the audience, Jackson tells him in passing, "This'll be over so fast, probably won't even get a chance to learn the other guy's name."

Derek chuckles and says back, "Ooh, buddy, you have no idea."

Before Jackson can think more on that, a whirlwind of limbs and papers suddenly hurls through the doors.

Derek sits back, gets comfy, and waits eagerly for the show to begin.

My first moodboard. Hope you enjoy. AU based on a discussion with @casually-eat-my-soul (I suggest checking out their version). This was kind of like a divergence from that (the brain juices just started flowing).

[bloodonmysqueegee]

Respite - a short comic

super angsty. I apologize. also some of the art is kinda ugly to me rn but enjoy

BTW I STILL HAVE SEVEN COMMISSION SLOTS OPEN AND I NEED MONEY AAA

my kofi <--

[karamellisokeri]

Art style study but with su jue🦊 I fell for her charm it seems

Colored and the line art version

[copia]

THIRTY-ONE DAYS OF GHOST ⛧ DAY ONE

first song you heard — Mary On A Cross

September 1969; Papa Nihil and the beginning of the Ghost Project take to the stage at the Whiskey a Go Go club in Los Angeles, under the watchful eye of Sister Imperator. Fifty-three years later, in Tampa, Florida, Papa Emeritus the Fourth performs Mary On A Cross, unaware that he is singing the story of his parents—and that of himself.

[meowkunas]

falling asleep on you !

w/ al haitham, wanderer, diluc, tartaglia/childe

a/n: under the cut because they got really long omg

al haitham likes to rest his head on your shoulder whenever he's tired. when it's in a more private setting, he'll lay his head in your lap instead. a loud, satisfied sigh will leave his lips once he's in this position. it's almost as though all the tenseness in his body simply dissipates once you start running your fingers through his hair. he rarely drifts off for a nap, but he looks close enough to peace when he's lying down like that.

it's the closest you'll ever get to having him be needy or clingy in any way. he tends to lean his whole weight onto you without explicit warning, so it's taken some practice to make sure you don't fall over on to one side — helplessly squashed.

there are signs to look out for.

you'll notice him staring at you out of the corner of his eye, making sure you're comfortable with how you're sitting before he places his head on your shoulder. sometimes he'll even mention that it's very "quiet and peaceful" before nearly knocking you over with a heavy slump.

when he's been kept up late for too many nights, he really will drift off to sleep. he's heavy and he makes your entire body ache from trying to hold him up, but you can't really bear to move him, especially not when he smiles in his sleep after you brush your fingers over his cheek.

he won't tell you that he always wakes from your sudden touch.

and with how cute he thinks you are when you're trying not to wake him, he doubts he ever will.

"i don't need sleep." wanderer announces proudly. it takes him exactly nine minutes to pass out after you promise that you'll keep watch while he's resting. you even make sure that he's asleep by waving your hands in front of his face to see whether his eyes twitch. nothing.

he doesn't even breathe.

his arms stay crossed over his chest and his hair falls onto one side. completely at rest.

still, this is the last thing you were expecting would happen. you resist the urge to touch his face. you haven't gotten that far with him yet.

unfortunately, you end up falling asleep beside him instead of keeping watch. there's something so comforting about his weight on yours, that you lean back into him, just to close your eyes for a few minutes.

the next time you wake is with the morning sun, and with a blanket haphazardly thrown over you. you fight with it for a bit, tangling your arms even further.

"oh good, you're up," comes the familiar, haughty voice. you expect to be berated for falling asleep, but he says something different instead. "thank you."

"huh?" you murmur intelligently. it's not fair that he does this when you're still groggy from sleeping.

he turns away, pretending he said nothing else. you smile at his back. guess he's still full of surprises.

diluc's very gentle with you. he's always been the one to beckon you over once he notices you yawning or when you look a little down. the way he caresses you while wrapping you in his arms is enough to send you straight to sleep. it's cozy.

but you've never seen him asleep before you. he's always been the one to creep back into your shared bed at the crack of dawn, when you're just awake enough to know that he's there.

this time, you're the one late.

he's already sleep — legs stretched out and turned onto one side. you take a single step forward and jump as he snores, disturbing the silence.

you crawl into the bed, facing the outline of his back. you reach out for him just to hesitate before actually touching him. what if he wakes up if you try to cuddle him? what if he has a really busy day tomorrow and he'll be frustrated with not getting enough sleep?

he answers the myriad of questions for you. just your presence must be enough for him to know you're there in his sleep. he ends up turning over to face you and bundling you up in his arms, letting out a huff. on the other hand, you're tense, unsure if you've accidentally awoken him or not.

"diluc?" you mumble.

the only answer is his steady breathing.

hope you're ready to stay squished in that same position for the whole night.

tartaglia pesters you with affection. he shows up at your door in the middle of the night sometimes, claiming he has "no where else to go right now". on certain nights, he'll be covered in blood that's definitely not his with a fiery look in his eyes as though he's set alight from the inside. he's not really there on those nights.

more often, he shows up with a cheery look on his face that disappears once you start to clean him up. you don't need to look at him to know that he's already staring at you.

tartaglia is always quiet in both types of nights; an unsettled nature or a calm energy. you're never sure what you're going to get.

but you know this: he would always show up after long periods of disappearing, even if it was just the smallest scrape. just to see you.

he'll be the one tucking himself in between your legs on the couch, no matter how many times you tell him that his legs are too long and he's way too heavy to lean back on you like that. but he does it. somehow.

when you start to grow tired from listening to his shenanigans, he becomes so gentle with you. he'll carry you to bed and hold you until you sleep.

he's gone in the morning, or maybe he leaves once he's sure that you've been lulled to sleep. either way, you know he was here. even if he tries to disappear without a trace.

he's always here on the nights that you sleep the best after all.

[cornmagnate]

Do you ever think about how Copia is now the only living person in the room full of ghosts and how he also has to go through emotional rollercoaster of meeting his twin he forgot/didn’t know about while having no one by his side to help him deal with it. Can you believe how lonely he is.

Also do you ever think about how Copia is now the only one alive among Emerituses (not counting his twin brother for now), hence he is the only one who can see ghosts and hellspawn, therefore the rest of the clergy probably sees him as insane and delusional and probably unreliable. Can you believe how lonely he is.

[leodanbrock]

GHOST ⊹ Film Trailer

RITE HERE RITE NOW (2024) dir. Alex Ross Perry & Tobias Forge

[exasperatedoctopus]

Can we contemplate the world-building implications in Transformers Animated when Sentinel gives all his little bootcamp victims their names? Please? I’m squinting suspiciously.

Did they not have names before?? Do you not get an official name until you get official military training??? You get an army nickname and that who you are forever, no takebacks. Bumblebee is a bumbler one time in front of Sentinel and that’s his life forever now.

[ravenlexis]

this year's lantern rite gave us old man zhongli worrying about hu tao, xiaother (bcs my traveler is aether), beiguang, ganqing, the adepti gathering together for the celebration, minor cynari, candehya, and a whole lot more...

wlws are winning and we love to see it!

(also, qiqi said she noticed a hole and fell in? gave me flashback to childe's past, that was wild)

[mintjeru]

nyam

open for better quality | no reposts | hc's under the cut

ok so i established the hc that his favorite dim sum dish is phoenix claws but that he also likes steamed char siu bao (which aligns w/ his signature dish)

the first two chibi doodles and the full-body art are based off of that ^

i hc that the aunties in the market will watch his performances and offer him food from their stalls at the end as a thank you as well ^^ i imagine the aunties beckoning him over like "leng zai" or "gaming zaizai"

anyway. that's what the chibi doodle at the bottom is based off of

pictured in the art is a paper wrapped cake, hong kong style egg tart, and egg puffs bc i also mentioned previously that i hc that he likes mild sweets

[nana2009]

in this jolly times may i present u: MILF DOVEKAT :B

[immabebaby]

Who asked for a Decepticon courting dance (it's tango, I'm not creative) and surprise mushy feelings ft. Tfa Megop?

Me That's right! You! Obviously.

Anyways, I wrote this earlier, and forgot to promote it here, because so many ppl follow me 🙄

It's I might make you a habit by imjustawriter on ao3

Drop by if you're curious :)

[fentyler]

i have a fantroll if anyone cares

[invye]

Dressrosa would obviously be quite different in the CoraMiShanks AU, given that, well, Rosinante is there to help kick Doffy's behind, but I'm not sure if I want to touch the happenings in present day canon yet.

HOWEVER! I am once again thinking about how in canon Zoro dragged Law into the party after---

Zoro dragging Law along to have a drink and they inevitably talk about swords (it's Zoro and Law carries an interesting blade, what did you expect?) when Zoro, slightly tipsy, lets slip that he trained with old Hawkeyes for two years.

Law, already fully sloshed (seriously he should have known better than to try matching Zoro for drinks), immediately goes: "Does Hawk-san's 'training' still include tossing you across the entire island and letting you fend against the stupid monkeys for yourself?"

And Zoro just absolutely loses it. What do you mean Law knows that he's spend most of those two years traipsing around lost on that stupid foggy island?? What do you mean Hawk-san???

And drunk Law long-windedly explains that he grew up with Mihawk around, even lived in his dilapidated castle for a while with Cora-san, before they returned to the North Blue so Law could finish school. He even had extended dealings with the Red Emperor during that time, and don't belive what anyone tells you, they're both stupid powerful, but also stupid dorks, it's unbelievable how Cora-san is so attached to these idiots...

And while Law drunkenly prattles on, Zoro is sitting there, head in his hands, realising Hawkeyes actually did a good job with Law, even though his technique is disappointingly reliant on his devil fruit; which means that Hawkeyes probably also did a good job with him, and that on top of that, he might actually really care..?

Druing the trip from Zou to Wano with the Heart Pirates, Zoro learns that they all know Hawkeyes, or Hawk-san as Law calls him and they copy; because when they first set out he showed up all intimidating with his huge sword and unwavering stare and icily told them to "stay safe" and "don't bite off more than you can chew" and "here is my contact, do not use it" and he has shown up somewhat regularly since, especially after Cora-san officially joined the crew when they entered the New World.

Zoro is left sitting there with the knowledge that Hawkeyes apparently has at least three vaguely adopted children, and that he does care. And Zoro has no idea how he is supposed to feel about the knowledge that he is one of those children now.