#rape should be unthinkable

[isawthismeme]

[justadeadreaper]

Summoning a spirit and more...

TW: Animal death, Disembowelment/Gutting, Nearly being SA'ed, Murderer and subsequent death, Demon summoning gone wrong, Please tell me if anything that should be put as a warning was not, thanks.

When your friend had asked you if you wanted to try and summon a Demon you had not expected this. Well, kind of. You had heard of multiple ways to summon Demons from all the media you had consumed which mostly ranged from sacrificing a virgin or by creating a summoning cycle or by just contacting one through an ouija board. You had expected the latter to just be cooped up in the abandoned house that seemed to haunt your friend’s street as you had an ouija board and a few candles littering the floor.

But no.

Your friend had to go all out. And by all out you meant all out. It sent a shiver up your spine to the point you thought that this was not the first time they had done this unlike what they had claimed when they had brought up the idea to you. This all seemed too professional, too thought out. But, what did you really expect? You knew how seriously your friend took shit like this, how much research would be put into things they seemed to enjoy and this seemed to just be another case of that passion acting out in full force.

You stood before the asylum your friend had asked you to meet them at. You pulled out your phone to check if you had the right location and time.

Meet me at the Anneliese Sherman Hill Asylum. Check.

2:50AM don’t be late! Check.

You had actually come a few minutes early to make sure you were there on time for whatever your friend wanted to do, you wanted to be a good friend after all. On the other hand you thought over if this was a good idea. You were in the middle of a forest in front of a ruined and abandoned asylum that you knew junkies would visit to shoot up as it looked like a light breeze would be able to knock it down. What if this was all a prank and your friend had actually tricked you into coming here for no reason? What if they lured you here to see if you would actually come so the whole school could laugh at you?

You were by yourself, you did not want to go in alone because God knows who or what could be in there. You were an easy target after all, any lunatic could grab you and do unthinkable things. Your paranoia made you think of all the missing posters that covered your small towns of young adults like you who had gone missing to never be found or the headline on your local new station of bodies that had turned up dead and raped with their hearts missing. You shuddered. You had known some of those people who had been left as nothing but bodies for people to gawk at and say how you had met such a terrible fate. 

As your thoughts began to overwhelm you and plague you with all the horrid outcomes that could come out of you going through with this you heard a noise from above. It broke you out of your train of thoughts especially when you realised that it was your name.

“Y/N! Hello Earth to dumbass! Anyone there?!” Regan called out as half of their body hung out of a fifth story window.

“Regan? Dude what the fuck! Get your ass back inside before you fall out!” You shouted back up as you watched how they nonchalantly stayed where they were.

“Are you my mom or what?! I’m not gonna fall! I’m perfectly fine!” they called back down to you with an almost song-like tone to their voice.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass! Go back in and come down here so we can get on with this!” you responded as their joy seemed to put you more on edge than anything else.

“Yes mother! Anything you say mother!” Regan grumbled as they went back inside so they could descend down the stairs and come fetch you to go through with your plan.

Insane bitch. But were you not just as insane for going through with this? Who cares? At least they showed up.

It only took a few minutes before Regan opened the door with an obnoxious creak. They saw the sour look etched onto your face and could not help but pout back at you.

“What’s up with you? I thought you were a night owl.” Regan whined.

“An asylum?” you sighed.

“Yeah, so?” Regan answered with just as much sass as you.

“Really? It’s an asylum.” You responded as you pointed at the building behind them as if they were an idiot who did not realise where the two of you were.

“By God! I didn’t notice that earlier! How did I not realise?! I must be an idiot!” They turned around to face the building acting like they had never noticed it before as they dramatically put their hands to their face to make the most over the top shocked face they were able to muster that was still somehow riddled with their usual sarcasm.

“Very funny,” you near enough snarled, which only brought a smirk to be smothered all over their face.

“Oh I know,” Regan responded.

“But seriously? An asylum out of all places?” You asked as you tried to swallow down the fear that had started to build in the pit of your stomach while you began to walk up the stairs to meet Regan at the door.

“Of fucking course! You know that asylums are some of the most haunted places in the world! It’s why they’re always used in horror movies or those shitty YouTube videos about ghost hunting. And since they’re so connected to the afterlife it will only make it so much easier for a Demon to come through.” Regan nodded as they pushed open the door so both of you could come inside. The inside was not any better than the outside, it was far worse than you could have ever imagined. Regan had turned on the torch in their hands and began to point it around what once would have been a reception area which now looked to be a demolition site. Most of the ceiling had fallen down exposing the skeleton that once had stood proud as it kept the asylum up but now was drooping as if it could fall to pieces at any moment. The wall paper had been peeled off most of the walls to lay in piles on the floor as the walls now were coated in a constant dampness that built the perfect playground for black mould to spring to life. The two of you began to climb the stairs, having to dodge certain spots where the wood was too weak from rot or where the rot had already fully eaten through to create holes big enough for two adults to drop through into a black void.

“Yeah they’re so haunted because of all the shit that happened here. I’m just saying if I was brutally tortured and treated like a useless baby as staff act like I’m a fucking idiot all because I had a disability I would haunt the place I died. Would probably try and get my revenge on the staff,” you muttered after you had truly seen the state of what once would have been a thriving business even if it had a gruesome history.

It only took a few minutes of climbing the stairs like an obstacle course to reach the floor that Regan had set up for the two of you to summon the Demon. It was unnerving, the whole place was unnerving but this floor was different, extremely different. All the hairs on your arms to the back of your neck had stood up, your whole body was on edge as all your senses seemed to be heightened that you were able to sense everything. All the dampness you had felt when walking through the other floors seemed to have disappeared completely, replaced by an overwhelming staleness that seemed to burn your nose while your lungs felt as if they were tightening at the staleness that overwhelmed them like it was depriving them of oxygen.

The two of you continued your walk as you went deeper into the floor. The hallways were covered in graffiti ranging from phrases to names to dicks with the latter covering most of the walls as they were most likely made by the immature teens from the local highschools that had come here to ditch school and get high or had come to the asylum for fear tests to see if they were cool enough to be part of the group with whatever group had sent them in there. You had continued to walk until you reached another large door that Regan pulled open with a huff to reveal the room they had set up.

It must have originally been a social room that had been turned into a restraintment room when the asylum became overwhelmed with too many patients. Chairs, tables, medical beds, restraints, toys, anything you could think of had been piled into the room but it did not have the former glory it once had once had decades ago. All had slowly rotted away with time with the rest of this damned pace but that did not matter to you, neither did the shattered windows that leaked in some of the cool night air and moonlight as its glass decorated the floor. The only thing that mattered was how Regan had set up the room.

For you to see there were candles scattered all over the floor and on certain pieces of the furniture in either bundles of three or seven. Most were burnt around halfway down as the wax trickled to the ground, melting into the cracks of the floor as if they were filling them in. Set up on an old medical table was an altar that had a black cat tied to it as it was connected by a simple chalk line to a summoning circle that spanned over most of the floor as an ouija board laid directly in the middle of it all. It was all too much, you knew that if you were in a horror movie that you would be the first to be taken out by whatever entity had decided to go on a killing spree that day. This looked like it was directly out of a horror movie and you did not want to be part of it. You wanted to immediately turn around and run away but something was stopping you, like a dark force beyond your comprehension had taken control and forced you to stay there and continue like this was a normal everyday thing.

The two of you slowly walked over to the board and sat around it, one of you on each side. Slowly you both put your fingers on the planchette and began moving it to spell out both of your names. First Regan’s and then yours.

“Anyone here with us?” Regan asked.

Ding, ding, ding.

The old church bells rang out, far in the distance from the safety of the town to officially announce that it was finally 3AM, the witching hour. The pit in your stomach seemed to grow to the size of a blackhole as you prayed that nothing would happen as you had wished you had brought some holy water from the church. 

The planchette moved.

Yes.

“How many are there?” Regan asked another question as you preferred to stay silent. The planchette continued to move as it slid towards a number.

One.

“What are you?” you asked as you hoped it was just a tortured spirit.

The planchette rapidly moved from letter to letter to spell out the word you dreaded.

Demon. Regan only smiled as you let out a breath you had never realised that you had been holding.

“Do you want us to free you?” Regan asked.

The planchette moved once more.

Yes.

“What will you give us in return?” Regan questioned.

The planchette moved for one last time.

Anything you wish.

Regan then got up and walked over to the altar. They reached over somewhere and pulled out a knife that you had not noticed earlier.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you asked Regan as they lifted the knife above their head.

“It needs a blood sacrifice to come through,” Regan answered.

“That’s a living fucking cat you can’t fucking do that!” You shouted back as you got up to stop them.

But you stopped in your tracks once you saw the look on their face once they turned to face you. Eyes once warm and full of life were now filled with this cold uncaringness that froze you still as it chilled your spine. Regan was normally so nice and loving but this was something different. This was not the Regan you knew. For a brief moment you thought that they were the Demon instead of the thing they were trying to summon.

“Don’t worry, I got her from a local shelter. Poor thing was in a coma, so they were gonna put her down anyway. I’m just doing it so at least her life could be useful in one way,” Regan shrugged coldly which only sent another shiver down your spine.

Although you were not able to fully process their words before they drove the knife right through the innocent cat’s body again and again and again. Blood splattered onto them in a bloody fountain while some leaked out from beneath the cat and dripped down over the edge of the metal bed as it collected in a puddle before spreading out and hitting the chalk that made up the summoning circle. The blood by some supernatural force started to multiply and flood the chalk with the crimson liquid before it came to life with a sudden burst of flames that knocked you to the ground with a thud.

Your head hit the floor and everything seemed to blur as you let out a pathetic groan. Even with the blur you could see the flames as they spread around the room causing everything flammable to catch alight to be turned to ash by its gluttonous hunger. You had started to accept your fate of being engulfed by the flames as all your body felt like it was being weighed down by a thousand suns making it impossible to scream. That was until you heard that glass shattering scream followed by a maniac laughter that echoed around the room. You just had to look up, how could you not?

Your eyes strained to try and figure out the shape hunched over the altar as your whole body screamed out not too as you began to force yourself to sit up. It only took a few moments before you saw it.

It was a disgusting thing you had never seen the likes of before. A ghastly mass of muscles and eyes that shambled in its movements, the only thing keeping it together were the scales scattered over the exposed flesh that glistened in the flames by the mucus that coated the veins that pulsed alive with the demonic blood that spewed through them. It made you sick. Especially when you saw the seven long, obsidian claws that were driven right through your (now ex) friend’s chest, blood gurgling out of their mouth with bubbles as it spilt onto the floor.

That thing unrolled a tumorous tongue from its skewered maul that was made up of eyes upon eyes piled onto flesh, exposing the rows upon rows that covered the inside of the dog-like jaw. The thing pulled it upwards, licking up all the blood with a guttural groan as if such a thing gave it a sickening pleasure.

“Thank you for summoning me, finally don’t have to use an avatar to have my fun now,” it told you with a sadistic smile on its face, it did not need to even move its mouth for its words to come out, you could still hear its raspy voice anyway.

It turned its head back to your friend and used its claws to carve its way down your friend's chest before pulling back their skin to expose their wet inside to the smokey air. First it took their intestines out and wrapped it around their horns which spiralled upwards as if they had once been joined together to make a circle. Then it pulled out Regan’s heart and chucked it into its mouth and chewed on it for a few seconds before spitting it out in disgust.

“Ugh, disgusting... impure..." It growled before turning to you.

It turned its claws downwards and slowly let Regan drop off like they were a toy that had unsatisfied it as it let their body crumple with a thud. It slowly began to crawl to you as it spoke again with that haunting voice that seemed to fill your body.

“I’ll have fun with them later but how about I try a pretty thing like you out first?” it asked mockingly as if it was trying to toy with you in what should have been your last moments.

You tried to desperately crawl away but your body was too weak from the floor to move to save yourself from whatever it wanted. You wanted to scream and shout to try and get someone to notice you so they could save you from your gruesome fate that played out in front of you. But your voice seemed to have vanished, replaced by the burning in your lungs that was caused by the smoke that seemed to fill the room as the oxygen was quickly used up.

Admittedly you sometimes wanted to die when life became too much and the voices seemed to drown out any rational thought but you had never planned to die like this at the hands of that beast. You kept trying to squirm away until it pounced onto your back, pinning you to the floor with an excruciating weight that stopped all of your movements as the little breath you had left was knocked out of you. You wanted to kick yourself free and beat the shit out of this sick fuck but your body had decided otherwise. In all honesty you began to give up especially when you felt its drool and breath run over your neck as it thrusted against your thigh. Tears started to swell up in your eyes as you wanted them to stay put but stream down all at the same time as that sick fuck began to laugh.

Then nothing.

It seemed to stop laughing or moving or even moving. Its weight then fell on you with full force keeping you pinned more than you thought it could before. Then you began to feel wet. Wet all over. As if a warm liquid had been spilt all over you. Then suddenly all the weight seemed to be pulled away as you finally seemed to be able to breathe a true breath even if it was filled with smoke.

You could not understand why it had suddenly stopped. Maybe it thought about how atrocious it was acting? Impossible. So you decided to turn around even if instincts were telling you not to and instead run.

As soon as you turned around you wanted to scream at what you saw. Laying in front of you was a dead Demon laying in a pool of black blood that had soaked into your clothes and behind it, oh God what the fuck was behind it. It looked like a man but it was too tall as four wings sprouted from its back while horns sprouted from its head much like the Demon it had killed but these ones were joined together to create a circle that emitted a light. From beneath the robes, chains, and bones that obscured its body you could see some clearly defined muscles riddled with scars that would have made you slightly blush if you were not thinking about the long metal blade it was pointing towards you as murderous eyes hid behind a skull of a more humanoid demon.

You coward in fear thinking it would kill you like it had done in fear. You whimpered as you pulled your body into itself in a pathetic display and it seemed to... hesitate? You reopened your eyes to look at it as its eyes seemed to be filled by something but you could truly not tell what. It looked away as if thinking for a minute before turning back to you as it lowered his sword.

“C’mon..." it said in a gravelly voice that seemed British as you first heard it.

You did what it said as you felt like you had no other choice as it could clearly kill you. You slowly got up with wobbling legs as you walked over to it to take the bandage hand it had offered. As you took its hand a beam of light came through the roof and not a second later you felt yourself being pulled up with great strength. You screamed as you felt yourself being pulled tight against its chest. Your arms wrapped tightly around the creature as you could feel the toned abs beneath the robes causing a blush to lightly dust your cheeks.

Below you saw the asylum as it burnt away to cinders with the body of Rean, the poor cat, and the Demon inside. Then you turned to see the being that had saved you once more as it continued to fly upwards. That was when you realised what it was. An Angel.

People joked about how Angels actually looked terrifying and that was why they said ‘Do not be afraid.’ when they first saw humans. When looking at the one that held you tightly you understood perfectly as to why. But for now you felt safe as you realised that it was most likely taking you to Heaven.

This was probably not the ending you had thought of when you had agreed to summon a Demon but maybe being saved by this Angel was actually the best choice at the moment.

Taglist: @diejager @frogchiro

So, hi. Sorry, I have not posted in a few days as I have been busy with family. I still can not believe that this is my last post of 2023 since I still can not believe it is the end of the year as it does not feel like it. So yay to a breakdown over the passage of time. To be fair I am not fully happy with it so I may come back and edit it in the future. I just want to say a quick thank you for all the support as I honestly did not expect anyone to enjoy my writing, I hope all your New Year's resolutions come true. Hopefully, I can post more in the coming year as I am planning for more AUs and hopefully a full rewrite of COD MW with some extras. If you guys like this fanfic I will try to post more fanfics and maybe make this summoning fic a series of Ghost taking care of reader and hiding them in Heaven. Or I will try to post some mini-fics depending on what people want so if anyone has any ideas just put them in my askbox and I will try to write a fic on it, even smut. And I may post some headcanons of the characters. Also if you want to be tagged in anything just say as I am trying to organise everything so we can have smooth sailing in the future. But I hope you liked this as I have not wrote a fanfic in a good while. But Happy New Year's Eve and Happy New Year!!!!

[djuvlipen]

It's so hard being a Romani lesbian. It feels contradictory at best, unthinkable at worst. You are raised with the explicit goal to become a wife and to have children one day. I can't remember the first time my mother talked to me about marriage, but I remember being around 6 and being told that I will have a wedding one day, that it will be the most important day of my life and that I would make my family so happy. Growing up I'd constantly, almost daily hear about having children and having a boyfriend and getting married some day. It was always one of the most important topics of conversation. Your relatives - even your female relatives - don't seem to think you can make decisions by yourself, for yourself. Everything you wear, everything you say, everything you do is about appealing to men. When I was 5 I asked my mom if I could wear a dress to go outside because it was very sunny and she just told me I wanted to dress that way because I was in love with the male friend that I had. If you want to wear jewellery, if you wear "revealing clothes", that means you want to flirt with a man. This is not even an inconscious, internalized mindset: it is very overt and I was explicitly told that anything I did was because I was in love with a man - a classmate, a friend, a neighbour, an adult family friend (yes, even if I was 8), a male relative. I felt disgusting anytime I wanted to dress the way I wanted because I felt I was inviting men to have sexual thoughts about me.

As a Romani little girl you are groomed to accept relationships with men, especially older men. When I was about 8, my then 15yo sister invited me to her bedroom and showed me condoms and told me that I would need them one day. When we were 12, my female cousins all had boyfriends. My female cousins usually got their first serious relationship at 14-15yo. Two of my cousins had their first kid before they turned 17 (one was with a 28yo man). And this is seen as normal and you're weird for criticizing them. Any heterosexual intercourse is seen as good, as a positive value. The majority of my Romani female relatives sided against another relative of ours who had been raped by her stepfather. My mother and my sister also sided with my abuser and told me that I was being unfairly mean to him because he is my stepfather and I should be nicer, actually.

When I was 12, I had never had a boyfriend. All my other relatives, both male and female, started piling on me. We had family gatherings almost every couple of weeks, and the conversation would always somehow land on me. I was told I was weird, I was a dyke, I was probably a lesbian, my mother usually said she didn't want me to be some ugly dyke but she would also say that I was so mean to her for not coming out to her. This was discussed among my relatives while I was in the room. My mother usually pressured me every couple of nights to tell her if I was a "dyke". Because even though my group doesn't practice child marriages anymore, it's still the norm for Romani girls to be in serious relationship with (older) men when they are in middle school, and you are the weird one for not fitting that norm.

When gay marriage was being debated in my country, I was in middle school and my mother's favourite joke was about a gay teenager committing suicide. It was a joke made by a stand-up comedian and she would listen to it once in a while when driving me to school.

And I am so lucky because my family isn't even very traditional. They aren't even religious. Most Roma are very intense about religion. In my country, there are a lot of Evangelical Christian Roma, who told me that lesbian Roma should be murdered, should be ousted, that gay Romani teenager should be beaten by their parents, should be thrown on the street, that lesbian Romani Holocaust survivors should have been killed. All under the guise of "culture". Because a lot of those people have a "let it be" attitude when it comes to non-Romani LGBT people, but they don't extend that attitude to their own kids.

And then I talk to antiracist and "progressive" Romani activists, usually male, usually straight, who tell me that "being Romani is about being raised with Romani culture and embracing and respecting that culture", but what does that mean for LGB Roma who are constantly being bullied and abused by their own family and community? Heterosexuality lies at the core of Romani culture and LGB Roma won't be free until we start challenging religions and the patriarchal and homophobic bias engraved in Romani culture

[littlesparklight]

Read a paper on the third Homeric Hymn (Aphrodite's long hymn) the other day, and I've been musing on Aphrodite, her ability to 'cast sweet desire' into the hearts of people, and agency. Not sure this will have any insight, I'm just trying to think out loud, basically, but -

On the one hand, obviously the instances we know of where someone or other gets cursed/deliberately struck with desire is a specific and forcible/foreign sort of experience.

On the other, where does the line (is there a line?) go between Aphrodite as the origin and cause of all sexual(-romantic) feelings and desire, in general, and Aphrodite as deliberately forcing someone to fall in love/desire with another person?

Is each and every case of such a spell a wholly foreign-to-the-person desire, something they wouldn't have at all felt otherwise, or is it (sometimes) bringing out what could be/is there and making it impossible to ignore?

In the hymn, Zeus first strikes Aphrodite with desire for Anchises, and then Aphrodite herself does the same to Anchises, for her.

The layers to the question of agency and consent and whatnot are of course many, here, if we should strictly look at this from a modern lens (at the very least Aphrodite commits rape by deception). On the other hand it'd be somewhat wrong to look at it in such terms, I think.

Neither Aphrodite nor Anchises are turned into unthinking sex beasts who fall upon the object of their desire with the need to screw, and nothing more. Aphrodite plans out her approach, and goes to very deliberate effort to gain what she (now) wants in a way that will be as free of stress/fear for Anchises (in the moment, before her revealing herself) as it possibly can be. Anchises, in turn, also takes steps to assure himself this strange "girl" is someone he actually is "allowed" to have sex with - that is, that she is mortal, and not divine. (Even if we allow that he does want the answer to be 'yes', and thus is probably an even easier target for Aphrodite's deceptions than he might otherwise have been.)

The paper I read points out that we have a possibility that Anchises is actually asking for immortality (and thus to be able to keep having a relationship with Aphrodite), and that Aphrodite might want this too (and thus mirroring Anchises desire) but then steps away from that. And this is after they have satisfied each of their love/desire "delusions". And the Bibliotheke gives her and Anchises a second son, who, given that Aphrodite names only Aeneas in the Hymn, must have been conceived at a later date if we acknowledge this variant, so they clearly still desire each other. Is it natural, at this point, then?

Zeus' part in this is his act of turning Aphrodite's powers against her (the paper suggested he might be able to do this not just because he's the current ruler of the cosmos, but, as the Hymn uses that genealogy, because he's Aphrodite's father), as revenge for her doing the same to him, many times. This is probably meant in a general sense, but - later tradition had Zeus be forcibly induced to at least some of his liaisons, as the Dionysiaca shows.

But is he helpless, someone who is being used and have no agency?

I think I can begin to see what is meant by that even if a character is under divine compulsion, they have responsibility for themselves. What matters is what they do, not whether the desire is entirely natural to them or not.

We're not talking sex pollen or omegaverse-levels of heat/rut need to have sex, really.

Basically all characters we see impelled in this way still have agency to (attempt to) resist, to reason with themselves and to decide how to act.

Phaedra in (the surviving version) Euprides' Hippolytus' play has been suffering for months, maybe more than a year, before the tragedy goes down - and this because Aphrodite meddles more, not from her initial awakening of that desire. (And, as a side point, considering that Euripides has Hippolytus raised by Pittheus, so Phaedra hasn't even spent every day for however many days around a small child who's grown up into a beautiful young man. She's seen him only briefly, if at all, until the moment she sees him when she's struck - is it impossible that even a sliver of that attraction is her own entirely?) Seneca's version of this play has Phaedra shameless instead of struggling, already having given in, and that does lend a different look, but given that we know it's perfectly possible to resist and even choose death (Phaedra is just pre-empted out of her chance to do this before tragedy strikes and she still also goes through with it).

Pasiphae does not launch herself at the bull, either. (Though here it's usually Poseidon, and not Aphrodite, striking her with the desire.) She may have resisted, and we don't know how long she might have been thought of as doing so, since we don't have any (surviving) text that touches on this. If one wants to look at it that way, she even makes sure her indiscretion might have gone unnoticed, thanks to Daidalos' contraption. Unfortunately she sleeps with an animal sent by a god, so it's not odd her precaution is foiled by a result that would otherwise be impossible.

We don't actually know how the oldest sources that did/might have touched on Helen and her meeting with Paris portrayed this. We don't know what sort of influence Aphrodite exerted, or in what way, and this is quite necessary to be able to say anything about it. The later sources that actually show this either have no gods involved (because it's "realistic"), or if the gods still exist, no obvious divine interference (like Ovid's Heroides and Colluthus' Abduction of Helen).

Helen talking of delusion/madness in the Odyssey doesn't really tell us anything, since this could be either actual forcible influence of some kind, or just a generalized way to talk about love-desire given the way the Ancient Greeks conceived of it. The Iliad is ambiguous on the matter, and there is certainly no divine influence of the sort we're talking about here at play in Helen and Aphrodite's scene - at best, simple wingmanning and flirting-by-proxy, in the way Aphrodite presents Paris and Helen acknowledges this is exactly what it is (seduction) and she reacts to it, too.

Going back to Zeus and the Iliad, where he unquestionably actually is under a forcible influence that cannot be denied (Aphrodite's belt/girdle), that is one of the closest of "unthinking sex beast" reaction we have. He is singularly focused on getting Hera to sleep with him right then and there, and while it shares some similarities with the versions where Phaedra has abandoned her inhibition/shame, she's more aware of that than Zeus is, while under the influence of the girdle.

The possibility of self-awareness and resistance, and ability to reason and plan, even in the grip of being struck by a deliberate influence makes the whole thing a lot more nuanced than we might first think it is, I feel like.

(Not really touching on Medea here in the versions of the Argonautica we have; I have no idea if we should categorize Eros/Cupid's influence as somehow different in kind/degree/ability from Aphrodite's or not, first of all. Second, the fact that Aphrodite seems to "lose" the ability to strike desire into people by herself and needs Eros/Cupid to do so in later sources is curious, and, again, feels like it'd be needed to be looked at as a separate thing.)

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

A previous post of mine re Jon's resurrection has been doing the rounds lately so I think I need to clarify a few things (because some people seemed to misunderstand what I was saying - thought tbh I'm a bit surprised).

I was not - and have never - made the argument that Jon is going to walk away from his assassination (whether he actually dies or is just severely wounded) - with no ramifications. Obviously there are going to be many mental and physical changes. For one, he's basically become a human pin-cushion. And given that his heart will probably stop, we might see other things like his fingers and toes turning black. There's also a popular theory that he might lose an eye (to complete the Odin symbolism/parallel). Then we remember that he has been betrayed by his subordinates which is obviously going to cause severe trauma. Anger, hurt, and maybe even resignation will be emotions that he has to grapple with. And let us remember that Jon spent five books (but most of all ADWD) ignoring the magic within and around him. So that's even more trauma because he now has to come to terms with the magical changes within him. It's a lot to deal with. His chapters are going to be depressing af. I think most of us, and most of us Jon fans, can agree on this.

But here's the problem: recent fandom discussion re Jon's death has been very narrow and one sided. To certain communities, he has to turn evil or villainous. This view is actually what led me to making that post. Because there has been an uptick in bad faith arguments brought on by people saying "well my fave is held to an impossible standard so I have to make straw man arguments for why we should willfully misinterpret Jon's arc/situation to make him be the bad guy for a change". And this is so incredibly annoying because it achieves nothing except bring in even more bad takes re Jon. I didn't want to point any fingers and I won't do that here because I don't really believe whataboutisms will do us any good. Really, I'm more interested in dispelling the idea that Jon has to turn into some one dimensional, unthinking, evil zombie because that suits a few fans' narratives; and given that I'm a Jon Snow fangirl, I have to defend my boy here.

This is what led me to specifically calling out the idea that Jon will be Stoneheart 2.0 or like Varamyr. The Varamyr comparison was especially jarring because the argument I was going against implied that Jon would be like Varamyr morally. I don't think I need to go too much into why that's a bizarre argument that has absolutely no basis in the text. Before his death, Varamyr had be a local homicidal tyrant who had spend much of his life terrorizing the wildlings beyond the wall. He did not die, warg into an animal, and then go crazy. He was already severely messed up to begin with. So no, it makes no sense to compare him to Jon because they're on two opposite ends of the spectrum morally. Jon is not and will not turn in to a raping, murdering, maniac with no regard for humanity around him. In fact, the one thing that drives Jon's arc is having to make moral choices to do the most good for everyone. GRRM is not going to suddenly change that and turn him evil.

But we can use that ADWD prologue chapter to infer what could happen to Jon in other ways. Varamyr's chapter tells us that a warg who spends too much time in their bonded animal begins to lose himself/herself over time. And most people accept that Jon will become more "wolfish" by spending an extended period of time warging into Ghost. But here's the thing, we do not know how long Jon will be out of commission. And we do not know the rate at which one begins to merge with their familiar. So it also doesn't make sense to say that Jon will completely lose himself to Ghost because there's still so much that's up in the air.

Another thing that often gets overlooked is that there is a spectrum in regards to how resurrected beings function. There are those whose psyches are near permanently damaged and there are those who are relatively high functioning.

Ice wights - the most severe case of mental degradation that we've seen so far. They can hold a grudge (i.e. the wights that attacked LC Mormont) but we haven't seen them communicate or function in any way that's similar to regular humans.

Patchface - on the severe end of the spectrum. We don't really know too many details about what happened to him but the prevailing theory right now is that he is a "wight" brought back through the machinations of the drowned god. Patchface can't communicate normally so he has to do it in cryptic rhymes (which are most certainly prophecies). And let's remember that he had also been dead, with no place for his soul to go, for a few days before being brought back iirc.

Catelyn/Lady Stoneheart - closer to the severe end of the spectrum but I wouldn't say she's the most extreme case. She's singularly focused on getting revenge on the Boltons and Lannisters who were responsible for her family's downfall - more recently, her son's murder. Her body is severely degraded as well. But I wouldn't say she's on the same level as Patches just because the only reason she cannot communicate is because her throat was cut through. Still she can form thought, lead a group (the BWB), and if fan theories are correct about a RW 2.0 coming, she's even capable of carrying out semi-large scale conspiracy. But as I outlined in my previous post, Catelyn isn't doing the revenge thing because dying and being resurrected automatically turns someone into a "crazy monster". Catelyn, quite literally, watched the last of her line die right in front of her. And, she had also been severely depressed by her husband's death and the news of Bran's and Rickon's deaths prior to the RW. So as she was in her last moments, she was clawing her face with her own nails, screaming in anguish. Which led to her murdering Jinglebell!

Beric - pretty high functioning. Can lead a group of people, can fight, can communicate well enough with those around him. However, he cannot eat, sleep, his blood has turned back, etc. He also loses his memories. BUT let's remember that he was brought back several times which means that there were more adverse effects with each resurrection; and he became so tired of it that he gave his breath of life to Catelyn the minute he got the chance to. And Beric was not some unthinking zombie wrecking havoc across the Riverlands, killing everyone he could get his hands on. He did not lose his morality, nor did he lose his sense of purpose (well, he is singularly focused on carrying out the task delegated to him by Ned Stark). There's obviously a sense of loss (again losing human anatomical functions and also the memory loses) but he hasn't become some one dimensional character.

Coldhands - we don't really know exactly what brought him back (most likely COF magic) but he's relatively high functioning. Sure, he is like Beric in that he doesn't eat or sleep but he can think, he can plan, he can function mentally with little to no constraints. He's not going around murdering people willy nilly and being a menace to society. He is focused on doing something beyond the wall but we don't know too much about him. But we have hints that he is a skinchanger(!) and that could've helped him maintain his faculties.

Melisandre - no on page confirmation yet but the popular theory is that she is some form of fire wight (she doesn't need to eat, sleep, etc, like Beric and Coldhands). However, Mel functions as well as anyone else. And no, she's not burning people because she died - meaning that all people who die and are resurrected get really into human sacrifice. Mel's religion (and even background since she's from Asshai) is already heavily marked by these practices; just like Varamyr was already a morally degraded man before the ADWD prologue chapter. Mel is also decidedly NOT one-dimensionally evil, and GRRM has said before that she's his most misunderstood character.

As evidenced above, there's quite a few differences with the people brought back. There's no one-size-fits-all shoe for everyone. So no, Jon won't become Beric 2.0 or Stoneheart 2.0 or Coldhands 2.0 because that's just not how it works. He'll be his own being, something new.

But here's the thing, Jon is already different from all of these people in life. As @swordsandarms has had to point out multiple times (to a point where I'd imagine it's become quite the chore for them), Jon is a completely new entity by virtue of him being a magical being - something that neither Catelyn Stark nor Beric Dondarrion were. So even if we accept that they establish a lot of the changes that wights face, we should also make sure to point out that there is a massive difference between them and Jon. Saying that the effects on Jon are going be less severe due to him spending some time in Ghost is not at all saying that he'll get away scot-free. Pointing out that Ghost is not some savage animal but a direwolf who displays human-like characteristics and intelligence (that is quite ahead of his siblings) isn't saying that Jon will face no changes. You'll be hard pressed to find anyone in fandom who argues that Jon will just get up and resume life as usual.

And lastly, something else I want to call attention to is that we should be looking to already established precedent among other wargs and skinchangers. Because here's the thing, Jon's death and rebirth is going to be a massive event in the magical realm; I mean so many practitioners of different magic systems have seen it in some way or the other. From a Doylist perspective, Jon's death serves as a vehicle to bring him closet to magic. By the time he gets back he'll be a more practiced and powerful warg, he'll possibly be on the receiving end of more powerful and frequent prophetic visions, he could also gain the ability to wield fire magic (e.g., making his own Lightbringer a la Beric and as foreshadowed by his ADWD dream), and he's certainly going to become a fully fledged skinchanger. We know this last part to be true because of precedent set by Bran and Arya - Bran who had a near death experience and Arya who lost her eyesight - and I'd argue that we can throw Jojen Reed into the mix as well. So when we talk about the changes death will bring, we should also talk about these characters who obviously serve as foreshadowing as well.

(@daenystheedreamer gonna tag you for visibility since you tagged me in a previous post. Really sorry I didn't manage to reply in time but I think you deleted the post. Hope it's ok tho but long story short, you didn't misinterpret that post at all and what you said was exactly my point. But yeah, just letting you know that we're in agreement lol).

[deathsbestgirl]

the thing about scully's horror at some of their cases. it's always something that strikes her deeply. either personally, professionally, or as a woman.

in irresistible, it's that pfaster desecrates the dead. the people she autopsies to tell their stories. to help them. it's too late to save them, but she can bring them justice. what she does is sacred. i think of this:

people don't stop mattering, don't stop needing help, just because they stop being alive.

-maura isles in "warm milk" by YoDrDeath

scully cares about the victims in the cases they investigate. they are the people who matter. preventing more deaths is the goal. and donnie pfaster is evil incarnate to her. it's something she can't fathom. then he takes it further, starts murdering to scavenge from women's dead bodies. so much violation. such hatred for women. a level of disrespect that cuts away at her. men take away women's autonomy all the time, that it should continue after death is unthinkable.

in 2shy, the man might have a biological imperative to kill. but he didn't simply kill. he targeted women specifically. preyed not only on their bodies, but their minds. he liked stalking them, softening them to him before brutally murdering them.

(tooms really seemed to kill as a biological imperative, but he did also seek revenge on scully + mulder)

in unruhe, she didn't care what schnauz's reasoning was. the result was still undue violence against women, stealing their minds & lives from them. in the end she "empathized" with him because she had to. she used everything mulder said about him, made the connection to his sister. the way gerry likened all these women to his sister. and the killings started shortly after his father passed, the man who abused his sister but gerry couldn't accept that. violence against women because men could never do anything wrong, or harm women. and he takes up the mantle in a very twisted way. violently, painfully lobotomizing them. as a doctor, she was sickened. medicine is meant to heal & improve quality of life. not steal people's minds & destroy any quality of life they could have.

then within the government/alien conspiracy. her abduction, the abductions of other women. having a chip implanted in them for untold reasons. to track them, to lure them to their deaths. cancer given to these women for reclaiming their autonomy. medical rape, ova stolen to create hybrids for a new race. autonomy & future children stolen. children sentenced to short, painful lives for science. and science is scully's strongest guide. it offers safety & answers, and at the same time, in the world she's entered with mulder, creates so much pain & loss & grief. violation after violation, all of it done against women by small, pathetic ego driven men with power & money they don't deserve and didn't earn. it sickens and terrifies her. it's a grim reality. it makes her distrust skinner. a man who has had their backs, a man she saved, the only one besides mulder who cared about melissa's case. she didn't know, but he also gave his life to csm to get the cure for her cancer. in the end, with mulder abducted, he was right there with her.

[reasonandempathy]

how can you reblog a Zionist post criticizing people who support Palestine for allowing themselves to be harmed in an effort to support Palestine (https://www.tumblr.com/reasonandempathy/743584944850354176/politics-is-fucking-soul-churning-it-really-is) while also seeming to respect Aaron Bushnell, who made the ultimate sacrifice in an effort to support Palestine? is it so unthinkable that people would be willing to act against their own interest to stop a genocide?

TLDR; that post isn't denying people can self-sacrifice to stop a genocide. That post is about taking the broader context into perspective, and remembering that Trump Is Still So Much Worse, so you should vote against him.

-------------------------------------

Was thinking about this one, actually.

Didn't know the person's broader political views until checking them out, and while it's important context for that person individually, but the post at large still, broadly, stands.

There is, undoubtedly, an aspect of political discourse that promotes people who would vote for Biden to stay home or vote for someone not Biden and not Trump, rooted in (to a much lesser extent than Bushnell, who was being compelled to be an active participant) not wanting to be complicit in that genocide.

What I took to be the main thrust of that post was to point out the unfortunately very, very real dynamic of not helping Biden win would, objectively, be worse for everyone including Palestinians if Trump wins. And in a truly, honestly Binary choice between D or R, there is a correct choice to make. It's Biden.

The first few paragraphs of that post are basic "don't be selective with your care." Which is true.

The rape of Israeli women, the Jewish Diaspora, The various tortures and war crimes inflicted by Hamas and the Houthis are not things to be forgotten nor supported. The world is fucking complicated and "Good Guys" are in incredibly short supply, but "Hooray Huthis" is what I'd call an incredibly fraught tightrope to walk.

----------

The main thrust of that post, though, is referring to people who know Trump is worse and have done extensive work broadcasting that Trump is, objectively, Worse for Palestinians. Worse for Women. Worse for the LGBTQ community. Worse for Non-Christians. Worse for BIPOC. It's pretty simple and reasonable to think that if Trump was in the White House he would find some way to be even worse right now than Biden is being.

But they still can't endorse or support Biden. Who is definitely horrible, but also objectively the better of the 2 options we have.

Which is why I said Politics is soul-churning. Because it is. Because, outside of any actual plan to get anyone else into the White House, it is objectively Better for the people I care about.

My fiance.

My friends.

My extended family.

My Neighbors.

My trade union (though I haven't been in it for a few years).

My city.

My values.

It is objectively Better for Biden to be in power than Trump, which, again, is the only realistic alternative to Trump. But it does mean voting for the guy. And, yeah, I'm in NY (not a secret). Maybe I could vote for the Justice Party or the Green Party or something else.

But I can't assume nobody else will do that, and ceding what small influence I have (.000008% of Biden's popular vote in 2020) to actually help people to instead assuage my personal beliefs is putting my comfort over that small, minuscule, but very Real influence in being able to help people.

I...have blood on my hands. (broadly) We all do. I just want to add less to it.

[little-tyrant-gortash]

Oathbreaker

Pairing: fem!Tav x Enver Gortash, fem!Tav/Astarion

Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Paladin Tav (Baldur's Gate), Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Drunk Sex, Unrequited Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Scars, Blood and Injury, Injury, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Torture, Psychological Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture

Word count: 1,905

Ao3 here.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9.

Chapter 10.

Chapter 11.

Chapter 12.

Chapter 13.

Chapter 14.

Chapter 15.

Chapter 16.

Chapter 17.

Chapter 18.

Chapter 19. ⬇

Chapter 20.

Chapter 19: The Test

As Astarion had left the ball while they were out in the balcony, Tav could somewhat relax a little for the rest of the evening. She still hadn't left Gortash's side as he was talking to the nobles, going through future plans of making Baldur's Gate better, listening in on the deals he made with them. It all seemed normal, and very, very boring for her.

Nevertheless, the finger food the servants served was great, and the wine also helped her to get past the panic Astarion caused. She took a particular liking to cheese and sweet wine, smiling at Gortash whenever he looked at her to check if she was alright. Her hand remained on his arm for most of the night, though.

Wrapping up the event and getting away at last was a bit of fresh air. As they walked down the corridor and started to climb up the stairs, Tav tripped and nearly fell. As Gortash steadied her with his hands, she giggled out loud.

"I think I had a bit too much wine", she admitted, feeling rather tipsy now that she had to walk back to his chambers with him.

"Indeed, darling", Gortash confirmed with a smile as they stopped walking.

He was careful not to consume too much from the stronger sort - he personally wanted to make sure she was safe -, but he said nothing when he saw that she did. After all, she needed it for her nerves, and it seemed it truly helped. He wished that their night went pleasantly; had he known about Astarion being so important to her, he would've removed him from the guest list.

"Do we need to bathe?" She asked, then hiccupped, then covered her mouth with her free hand. "Whoops." Another giggle, another hiccup. "Oh no", another hiccup.

Even drunk, she remained irresistible for him. He hoped against hope Bane wouldn't notice how his heart stirred for her, how he would've done the unthinkable if she wanted him to.

"No, we needn't bathe now. We'll do it in the morning."

"Oh thank you", she rested her head on his shoulder with a huge smile. And hiccupped. "Your Grace- how very merciful of you-"

"Can you walk back to our chambers, or should I carry you instead?"

"Our chambers?" She giggled as she got a hold of his arm, pulling it a little as she swayed on her feet. "I don't remember moving in~"

"Perhaps you should", Gortash half smiled, then reached under her legs and lifted her up in his arms, bridal style.

"Oh- but I don't have fancy clothes-"

"We'll have tailors make some", he cocked a brow as he glanced down at her, walking up the stairs.

"Yeah. You'd love to spend a fortune on me, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

"The Chosen of Bane who's taking everything – would give things to me? For free?" She murmured, moving his coat in a way that the golden sculptures on it wouldn't poke her face.

"Your company is enough compensation for me, my dear."

"Is that all I have to give? Myself?"

"Curious, isn't it?" He looked forward as he continued his way down a corridor. He felt her fumbling with the shirt over his heart. "If I know you're near, all is well and good."

"You sound like you love me", she purred, tickling him under his chin. Gortash nearly stopped walking, but instead, he just swallowed and tried to ignore what she just said. "Awww, you're blushing~"

"Tav", he warned her quietly.

"Hmm?" She fumbled with the cord on his shirt again. Working it open. "Am I in trouble?"

"Take a guess."

"No?"

"Take another guess."

She giggled just when they reached his chambers. He used his elbow to open the door, then as soon as they were inside the dark room, he used his foot to shut it behind them. He walked over to his bed, then placed her down on it gently. By then, she removed the cord from his shirt and when he leaned over her, she placed it just under his nose.

"Mustache you a question", she giggled again, making him purse his lips.

"Tav", he murmured, grabbing her wrists gently and pinning them above her head. "I had no clue the wine would make you behave like this."

"You don't like it?"

"I didn't say that."

"Good. Because I'm not planning to change anything for anyone."

"Why, were you asked to change by others before?"

Tav bit her lower lip as she moved her legs, wrapping them loosely around his waist.

"Plenty of times. I'm never good enough for anyone, I suppose."

"You're good enough for me."

"Really?"

"You'll always be good enough, Tav."

"With all of my flaws and mistakes?"

"Especially with all of your flaws and mistakes."

He leaned down to kiss her, and she reciprocated as a memory bubbled up in her mind. On that night, she was also drunk, and her partner advanced just like Gortash did now; but no matter how she complained that she wanted to go to sleep instead because she was tired and wasn't in the mood, he didn't listen.

Now as she was thinking about it, she wanted to test if Gortash would be the same. Until now, they had slight… problems keeping themselves away from each other whenever they were near each other, but the more she thought about it, the more important it became for her. She had to know if she could trust him in that regard. That if it ever came to it, in a more serious situation, he'd stop if she told him to.

The mere thought that there was a possibility that he wouldn't, made tears gather in her eyes. Her hands found his shoulders as soon as he released them to cup her face, and she pushed – just a little was enough, he pulled away instantly. She didn't even need to say anything. She didn't need to turn her head away. Her throat tightened when she saw his questioning look.

"Is something wrong?" He furrowed his brows when he saw her expression. At first, he couldn't depict what it was. Fear? Relief? Confusion? A mixture of all three? "Are you alright?"

"I'd… rather not…" Tav whispered, biting her lower lip, looking away. "Not… not now, if that's alright."

A heartbeat of unbearable tension building higher and higher within her chest – until he let out a soft, quiet ah, pecked her lips one last time, and moved away.

"Alright. I can understand", he half smiled at her when she looked after him, "I'm tired, too. Maybe tonight we should just go to sleep, hmm?"

Tav sat up as she watched him remove his belt and coat, her arms wrapped around herself in silence. She couldn't recall if they ever went to bed without devouring each other first, but Gortash didn't look like he'd mind not having sex at all. He demanded no explanation, he didn't require reasons and begging, he just… stopped. It was so easy. Natural.

It should've brought her relief and comfort, but instead, it brought her immense sadness. Sadness and pity, for herself. How each and every soul she met was telling her that he was bad, bad news, and how he straight failed to act like a monster with her. He did get under her skin in many, many ways, but never like that.

Never as others did.

She tried to keep silent as he got up on his feet to hang up his coat near the door, and could manage to silently sob, her shoulders shaking, her eyes shut tight; but it did not take long for his arms to wrap her in an embrace again.

"Alright, what's the matter?" Gortash murmured in her ear. She got a hold of his shirt on his chest and grabbed, hard, as she sobbed in his shoulder. "What happened? Just a few minutes ago you were acting silly and I thought… Tav, what is it?"

"Nothin', nothin', just… just that you… didn't act like you didn't hear me…"

Now, he pulled away, with a completely different look on his face. He cupped her cheeks and rubbed her tears away with his thumbs.

"Why would I do that? Why would I ignore anything you say?"

His heart rapidly beat against his ribs as he slowly realised. He hurt me, she told him earlier.

"He didn't do the same for you, did he?"

Tav's eyes darted away. Gortash focused on every little clue she gave, the way she trembled in his hold, the way she refused to maintain eye contact.

"Not him", she whispered, touching his hands which were still on her face. "Others."

She was lying, and he knew.

"I see", Enver whispered back, then held her close again. "It's alright, okay? You can say no to me, Tav. I promise. You can always say no."

She glanced back at him, uncertain.

"Why?"

Gortash closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.

"Because I know how that feels", he whispered, just as he did when he showed her his scars on his back.

Later that night, when he had her tucked in, holding her close and she fell asleep in his arms, he was staring at the ceiling as he was thinking about his next steps. Astarion can not be allowed to be in her presence again – except for one last time, when Gortash severed their contact at last. Astarion did not need to die; he was a powerful ally with resources Gortash could use, and, of course, he had a tadpole in his head that would make him an obedient thrall.

If he did not travel with Tav anymore… he wondered how he had resisted the voice of the Absolute, but he thought little of such small details. What mattered was that Astarion was a thorn in his side and a shadow in her past that still kept her in terror; she couldn't be his formidable warrior if such a man could send her shivering into his arms.

Astarion needed one firm shove that put him back in his place, which would make him forget Tav and would stop him from pursuing anything with her in the future.

And there was but one thing Gortash could do to make it happen.

It'd be risky; Tav will surely hate it, she might as well turn against him if he went through with that plan, but the risk was worth it to him. He glanced down at her; she had her head tilted up slightly, as if she had been looking at his face before she fell asleep. He thought of the horrors she went through and how she still could find peace with him; how she, even infected, with her free will, chose him over everyone else she knew. There were so many who were better than him in so many regards; how could he even deserve her?

The thought drowned in his mind as fast as it came to the surface. Of course he deserved her. Of course she was his and his alone. After all, he was a Banite; he deserved the best of the best of everything. And he knew he'd be the best for her, too. Both of them suffered enough until now; they deserved each other.

And if anyone wanted to step between them, well… the Black Hand of Bane would crush them.

End notes: Did you know that if you fail a persuasion check, the narrator says that Astarion hears you when you tell him to stop biting you, but he doesn't, because he's past the point to care? Yeah. I had that in mind.

[bitacrytic]

Answering @buttercuparry 's ask under the line because it might need some trigger warnings.

So... trigger warnings for... the triggers.

Plus, this is about a fic thing, not canon, so...

Yep

Bee asks:

Bita wow. Wow wow wow. What a chapter. I think I ached for Joe here. You are just a stuntman living your life and you got raped for looking like someone's rapist. This someone- your abuser became obsessed with you and followed you into the dark of the forest. Somehow unthinkably you gave him a chance when he crawled to you. He is your abuser and it is fucked up you care for him a little bit. It helps that he said he would sponsor you and so you have a sort of a camaraderie with him...or at least you think you do. Till again he slaps you in the very loft he raped you. What can Ming ever be to Joe now? Not a friend. Not a friend with benefits who sponsors you. Not a lover. Definitely not a boyfriend. Joe is reminded that he is just a piece of flesh caught between two sharks. And Ming the shark pushed him back into the maws of megalodon from whom he promised to protect Joe. Also I am very curious about what Tong said: " oh so now you are going to cherry pick what you remember. I know what you are capable of. " I wonder if it is just plain old victim blaming- you wanted it/ it was consensual. Or is it that Tong went so far into the mask of playing the nice guy to be in the industry, that he truly has started to believe that this is what he is. That he wants to protect Joe the moneymaker/ Joe the object of his twisted desire from Ming (even in nice guy mode Joe is a pound of flesh). Or is it that even back then, back when they were in Bright fields itself Tong saw nothing wrong in what he did...? But what does I know what you are capable of mean... Came to comment here because these couldn't be contained only in ao3 comment box.

---

hehehehe

This ask is just *chef's kiss*. Blow my head up why don't you?

I don't know what they're going to be yet. Some days I wake up and imagine that Ming takes a bullet for Joe and leaves him billions. Other days I imagine that by some miracle, Ming gets worthy of Joe and they live happily ever after. It depends on the day, to be honest, so I can't really tell you if they'll ever be boyfriends or even friends. But they will be lovers. Is that confusing? Like, they'll be sexually involved and some intimacy might seep in. but I don't know if they'll ever label it more than just two dudes boinking. Still working on that.

As for Tong remembering things very differently from Ming, that's a... complication. They'll sort that out soon, dw.

Oh and Tong is so aware that he's a horrible person. This ask just made me remember that canon Tong has a nice guy image. In ep1, he was busy greeting everyone and dropping compliments. Ugh, the fake asshole. Well, in CAS, he's leaned into his ep3-4 era and knows that everyone would beat him to death if they could. But they can't. Because he's engaged to a rich woman (and yes, May has MONEY in CAS. MSI will not take that from me)

Yes, Tong saw absolutely nothing wrong with what he did. However, he expected some kind of reaction from Ming. Something more than the scaredy cat routine.

You should know what it means when someone says to Ming "I know what you're capable of". I know I've woobified him. But think back to chp2 of CAS. What he did to Joe wasn't a first time occurrence for Ming. And spoiler/hint: if Tong knew Ming in high school, what do you imagine that might mean?

Whew!!!

My head is mostly jumbled right now, but... some of it kinda makes sense. Most of it is gibberish. But I'm hoping that when the chapters churn out, they make sense. I'm glad you're enjoying it. Your comments give me a boost every time.

[isawthismeme]

[merrivia]

The intricacies of the Captive Prince trilogy often present themselves through lines which are written with a strong narrative certainty (as if the answer is clear)* but are in fact, relatively ambiguous when you stop and think. I have already spoken about this with Nicaise here, but there are more (enough to make a little series, I expect).

Here is another one from King’s Rising:

What is the “other, darker thought” that Damen believes “at all costs must be avoided”?

More after the jump:

On a basic level, you could simply read this as about Damen's fears and anxieties. Like any of us in a dire, panic-inducing situation, it is imperative to not succumb to those fears or despair and to try and envision a way towards some kind of resolution.

There are also any number of dark thoughts Damen could be having, that he might want to avoid, like how he could technically betray Laurent to get his child back. Like how a King who was detached enough could think he could always make more heirs, and that there was no proof the child was his, and act accordingly.

I think it is clear that it isn't those things, but instead is something so dark it scares him.

Having a child, we know, opens all of Damen’s wounds about family:

For Damen, to be a father means to consider what it meant to him to be a son. It tears open the grief he had been forced to lock away and makes him realise just how alone he is.

You can imagine his line of thinking. Damen believes that he failed his father, and so cannot bear that he might fail his son.

And what is one of the worst things a parent might feel they must protect their child from, when you know they won’t be physically tortured or killed? Something he has seen a terrible father do in the form of Guion? The ultimate failure to protect them?

Damen, I believe, is thinking of the potential sexual abuse of his child.

There must have been something Damen saw in Laurent’s eyes as he urgently tried to communicate something he finds hard to articulate, and which would be horrifying to say out loud to a parent. Not to mention, some hours previously he had seen Laurent’s reaction to Jokaste’s news:

Damen may not have understood the look in Laurent’s eyes then, or the “sheer horror”, but by now he’s had many hours to process what he heard. Laurent is terrified for his son. And Damen knows why, even if he can’t face it directly.

It would fit a pattern to the Regent’s mentality-after all, what happened to Damen himself, was sexual exploitation in making him a bed slave, and similarly in the assassination attempt meted out to Laurent but luckily avoided (to be drugged and raped, before murdered). And lastly, of course, and most seriously, is the Regent’s paedophilia, a topic which Damen has perhaps avoided thinking too much about.

To be clear, we know Damen is sickened by Audin offering up Nicaise, calling it by its name, the rape of a child and preferring to be tortured or killed than do it. In fact, Nicaise’s abuse and Aimeric’s both must appall him. We can see he instinctively feels and knows that the Regent’s abuse of these children are dark, immoral acts, but I think he feels so uncomfortable by it, he doesn’t quite know how to deal with it. That is classic Damen. Think of his awkwardness at the incest rumours Govart mentioned when Laurent speaks to him about. He does think on straightforward lines, shies away from the unthinkable. Layered on top of this also, I think, is him being partially stymied by the acceptance of the Veretian court of something which should be disgusting. All of us see societal injustices every day, and often feel helpless in the face of them due to wider cultural acceptance/turning of a blind eye and I think, in a way, Damen feels the same.

Furthermore, think of when Damen is silent when Paschal says he tended to the Regent’s boys. He is unable to put into words his moral repulsion- and also the whole idea would open up a box of ideological worms. Like the fact that Damen was brought up in a culture which celebrates male virility and as a result, consensually lost his virginity at 13, a kind of early sexual blooming which Pacat intended deliberately for his character. He also would have known slaves start to train at a very young age, and are transferred to the palace from the moment of puberty, though they are older on completion of training. There obviously is a clear distinction- Akielon slave training takes puberty seriously and no bed slave can ‘graduate’ without going through it, and the Regent’s interests are pre-pubescent children. But Damen has also had sex many times with slaves who have been trained (brainwashed) to serve and cannot give consent in any meaningful way. There are probably no Akielon terms, no language exactly, to censure or condemn men like the Regent. Damen does understand consent is important, rape is a crime that would exist in both worlds, and what the Regent is doing is exploitation of the worst kind- but then…isn’t slavery? You can see these difficulties effectively silence Damen, as he wrestles with his morals and feeling of hypocrisy. (Remember that it is a seismic shift within Damen to go from a man with his own retinue of slaves, to a man who knows he will ban slavery on becoming king. It isn't just that he was reduced to a slave himself, and is now empathetic. All of this and more, I think, is ticking away in the back of his mind, as he fights for his survival in terms of the overall plot of the novels).

Veretian culture is no better, and also has no language for child abuse. Laurent himself will talk of what his uncle does as a “fetish” on the one hand, and then say Aimeric “fucked” his uncle, was a “country virgin” who was “hot for it”. Yes, he does this to eviscerate him verbally, but Pacat walks an interesting line here. In the time period the books are vaguely set in (13th century ish?) the general understanding of rape, abuse, consent, age and gender**, mean there wouldn’t have been a particular cultural understanding of abuse as we know it. So Damen and Laurent both hover in a grey area of knowing something is “obscene” and wrong, but being surrounded by cultures that simply have no term or legal basis for thinking it is wrong.

The truth of the matter is though, there is no grey area when it’s your child at risk. In this moment, Damen has started to truly acknowledge the darkest undercurrent in the trilogy. One which will lead him to Laurent’s abuse. And we see Damen’s agony and his rage at what was done to Laurent and at how the society around them (his society in the moment, but Veretian too) lets these things happen without consequences:

They did indeed hear what he did, and they do not care.

Laurent too, I think, may also have had an epiphany in this moment. Damen lays no blame whatsoever at his door, would murder the Regent on sight for the evil he did to Laurent.

I think this might be the first time that Laurent is shown by an external person that he loves and trusts and respects that what happened to him was not Laurent’s fault. That it’s never a child’s fault. That he could throw an accusation of seduction and willingness at Aimeric, but that was only because that same accusation had been no doubt flung at him. Damen’s love and his righteous moral outrage at least gives him that, when Laurent's own culture won't.

So that’s my reading of the line! If you think I’m wrong, please do let me know, I love hearing alternative interpretations.

*I think this is because Pacat wrote these stories over a long time, and you can see how alive the characters are in her head, and also because I think the fact the stories were originally written in tandem with a public audience on livejournal who could interact with her in real time, and I think had a little more to work with. What’s left for the readers who come later, is what can feel like a puzzle box of a novel. It’s part of what’s wonderful about it- the gift of a writer who assumes we are intelligent and will figure it out- but also perhaps, a tiny bit frustrating. Pacat definitely embraces reader interpretation, and I’m a big believer myself in aspects of reader response theory, but there are moments I do wonder about getting it right, hence posts like these.

** I put gender here because from my cursory research, there were some legal discussions of girls as victims and ages of consent in this time period but not so much boys. If I’m wrong, I’d like to know more about it, so let me know.

[all-we-hear-is-radio-ga-ga]

The situation in Israel

This account is not really active anymore but it still has many followers from all over the world so I think it’s a good platform to speak up.

First of all, I am physically well and so is my immediate family.

Second of all, it’s okay not to have an opinion. This is a complex situation and it’s very hard to understand it without living it. Today, it’s easy to express an opinion online but it doesn’t mean we always should. You can’t get an accurate picture through some infographics online and if you simply choose not to say anything I respect that.

But if you do want to know better, and you do want to support those who need it, I strongly suggest that you look into the history and the present of the situation in Gaza. It’s not the same as the West Bank. And all the “free Palestine” you hear? Hamas, the terror organization, took over Gaza almost 20 years ago. It hasn’t been a part of Palestine for almost 20 years.

I’ve been on Tumblr, a very liberal platform, for almost a decade now. I’ve never seen so many feminists, liberals and human rights activists justify murder, torture and rape as I’ve seen this past week. Colonization sucks, occupation sucks, and Israel is by no means innocent when it comes to these topics. But so is the US, and it would be unthinkable to start a conversation about 9/11 with “this is what decolonization looks like”. This is Israel’s 9/11. This is not a fight for human rights, Hamas does nothing for human rights. This is terror, and nothing justifies it. We, liberals or leftists or whatever you’d like to call it need to get our priorities straight. Terror is the biggest threat to peace, freedom and human rights. I wish peaceful solutions would work here, but they don’t. We are at war against a terror organization as cruel as Isis, and what we need from you, the people who oppose to violence, is your support.

[razorsadness]

If I were writing an honest autobiography of the audience—I mean the audience of the work of monstrous men—that autobiography would need to balance these two elements: the greatness of the work and the terribleness of the crime. I wished someone would invent an online calculator—the user would enter the name of an artist, whereupon the calculator would assess the heinousness of the crime versus the greatness of the art and spit out a verdict: you could or could not consume the work of this artist. A calculator is laughable, unthinkable. Yet our moral sense must be made to come into balance with our art-love (the Germans, of course, have a term for this or so I am told: Liebe zur Kunst). I wanted for there to be a universal balance, a universal answer, though I suspected maybe that balance is different for everyone. A friend who was gang-raped in high school says that any and all work by artists who've exploited and abused women should be destroyed. A gay friend whose adolescence was redeemed by art says that art and artist must be separated entirely. It's possible that both these people are right.

—Claire Dederer, from Monsters: A Fan's Dilemma (Alfred A. Knopf, 2023)

[msfbgraves]

You said that Terry and Daniel have the worst fight of their marriage when Yasmine is injured in “the business”, and say really cruel things to each other. How old are Terry and Danny when this happens? Does Daniel throw the marital rape in Terry’s face? How on earth is their marriage saved from this apocalyptic event?? It almost seems to be a worse fight than the rape incident. 

Certain things Daniele doesn't think about. The grip of a blade in his hands. It feels good, too good, while his Pop teaches him. Defense only. Defense only. There's too much blood in their life already, Daniele can feel it in his soul. Prefers to carry a gun since using it doesn't appeal to him. But he takes to the blade, readily, too readily. One time almost stabs his Pop, and they both know that he's had enough training. He's not Alpha, not Sicilian, should not need to know this much even - but the world's an ugly place, and precautions must be taken; they both know it. This is America, and certain ground rules may not be honored, certain sacrileges (killing and maiming omegas among them), not unthinkable. Still he sheaths the blade and gives it to his father with a furtive look. Pop puts it away and kisses Daniele's head with wet eyes. It's not for him, not if they can both help it.

Still, Daniele sometimes weighs his kitchen knives and letter openers in his palm without even thinking. And over the years, a collection of blades grows. Cooking knives, ornaments. He slices and cuts, of course, but stabs too, every day. It's something in him he doesn't dwell on.

Until now.

Someone hurt his puppy.

And oh, she's eager for the life, his Yasmin, so eager that it always will find her. He's known that since before she was 8, has begged every Saint he knows to intercede, but Yasmin takes after her Daddy in too many ways to stop her...

And yet Terry put her there, actively, in harm's way, 'routine job, there to watch,' as if she isn't all his Alpha zeal with none of his experience. And how she's sobbed in Mama's arms afterwards, terrified of danger she can't physically fight, even though the wound will heal, and she'll brag about a scar should it ever form.

But not now, not yet. "I have to be strong Mama, I need to be strong," she's heaving, as he holds her, for hours: "No, Passerotta, you need to be loved," but what she needs, actually needs from him, is protection.

Defense.

It's not a stealthy weapon he takes from his collection this time, the type he carries when Terry brings home thugs. Nor is it an ornate Asian one. It's the knife he's found among his luggage on his last trip to Sicily. It's unassuming, practical, and completely pedestrian, and he knows it's the reason why he has never gone by the name Andolini.

First, though, he caresses Terry's sleeping form with the flat side of the blade. He loves this man. Completely loves this man. But then, just as Terry moves, Daniele LaRusso takes the knife -

And plunges.

"The fu -"

But Terry Silver hasn't survived the mob this long not to recognise, on instinct, the danger of a bloody knife against his throat, they both know that. Even though Daniel can feel the movement of his mate's muscles through the blade.

His Alpha's eyes seek his. "Talk, then, Danny boy."

"She could have died."

A gasp. "Yes."

"My pup. Could. have. died!"

OK his mate's leg's bleeding rather a lot. That's the mattress gone for sure.

Maybe that stays his hand just enough not to cut through. One word, one movement on his Alpha's side, though, and Daniele's blade will slice something open he cannot stitch back up.

"She'll heal, and so will you," Daniele says instead. "But anywhere something even grazes any of my pups, Terry Silver, my blade will find you, and maybe then you will not."

Terry blinks, twice, a token of understanding.

Daniel takes the knife away. "You need to put pressure on that," he says dispassionately. There's nothing left to say they haven't already thrown into each other's face this past week, after all. But it's the first time his mate's eyes fill with admiration.

"Never -fuck- thought I'd see you join the business."

Daniele looks at him. "I've always been in business, Terry Silver," he says, splashing disinfectant over an open, throbbing wound.

"I just don't work for you."

[wandaluvstacos]

BRIGHT DAY BLUE DAY

CHAPTER 28 IS NOW UP

In the city of Yukiktrum, the hierarchy is clear even when the laws are not: Alphrim rule, betsra serve, and ometki bear young. Claiming a part of the city is easy, but keeping your territory is not, so Alprhim like Chramkut govern with talon and tooth. Maintaining power means control access to ometki, and by selling access to both them and their eggs, Chramkut has turned Themself into a ruthless and wealthy warlord.

Untkra once served as Chramkut’s prime ometki, but that time has passed, and Untkra has been replaced by someone younger. After one failed escape, it was only Untkra’s history with Chramkut that saved them from execution. Untkra knows that getting caught trying again will get them executed, but Unktra is willing to sacrifice everything if it means leaving the conflict-ridden city of Yukiktrum behind. This time, Chramkut’s prime laden ometki wants out, and they’ve begged for Untkra’s help. Untkra is done bearing offspring Untkra will never meet. It’s this way or death.

However, the desert landscape beyond the walls of Yukiktrum is hostile and unknown, and there’s no guarantee that there’s anything out there worth escaping to. What Untkra may not be ready for is what hope lays beyond the dunes, and the redemption that a new home can offer. Yet when another ometki needs saving, Yukiktrum calls Untkra back in what could be Untkra’s most daring rescue yet. 

Genre: Sci-Fi

Rating: 18+

T/W: This story is dark in nature, and while nothing explicit is ever shown, there are repeated references to rape (including underage), sexual slavery, and I suppose what equates to child trafficking (is selling eggs considered child trafficking?). There is also violence, murder, drug use, and prejudice/bigotry. This story also contains the trappings of a/b/o. It’s not so closely married to the trope as most a/b/o fics, but it is quite obviously based on it. 

Excerpt:

“Life became about survival. Everything I did, I had to wonder if it would be what got me killed. Eating too loudly. Sitting in the wrong chair. Wearing the wrong bodysuit. Everything was criticized one day and praised the next. Soon all I came to know was terror. It wasn’t so much death I was afraid of. It was torture. It was pain. I knew what Chramkut was capable of.” Untkra squeezed their eyes shut. “I can’t… no more. I can’t talk about this anymore.”

“I can see why you so desperately want to protect Skralvu from that,” Bytsklap said after a long pause. “You want to protect them in the way no one protected you.”

A klaptchrik chirp ripped through Untkra’s chest and lips, their feathers rattling with so much force that Untkra’s scalp hurt. They ducked their head and pressed their face into their knees, trying to regain control when control was galloping away from them.

The desk creaked as Bytsklap stood. They crossed the space between them and knelt down in front of Untkra, close enough to touch but refraining from doing so. “Everything you went through, you went through alone—as a child. No one should have suffered through such a thing, let alone as a fifteen-year-old. Someone should have been there for you.”

Untkra couldn’t reply. The wobbling in their lower throat was too erratic.

“The thing is… when you’re that age, you’re meant to be learning what your place in the world is like. It’s a time for exploration. And in that time, for you, everything became a threat. A chair. A bodysuit. A sound. That internal system meant to protect you never turned off. You associated everyone and everything with danger. It served you well at the time, in that setting. It saved your life. So your brain keeps that switch on, and it becomes your reality. Everything is terrifying. No one can be trusted. To let down your guard is to risk torture, pain, dismemberment. To trust anyone becomes unthinkable.

“Skralvu suffered with Chramkut, yes, but this system for predicting danger was not stressed to your level. They still want to trust. It’s a good thing. I imagine it must be exhausting, living your life under constant terror.”

“Not terror,” Untkra stuttered out. “Understanding.”

“An understanding that everyone is evil and wants to use you for their own means?”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not. It feels real to you because it was, for a time. You suffered at the hands of many, many evil abotskrut. But there was a whole world of others you never interacted with. You were looking at a sliver of the population, many of whom were forced to comply with a system they didn’t like out of the same fear you had with Chramkut. You brought Skralvu here so that they wouldn’t have to suffer like you did. Do you want them to be afraid of everyone for eternity? Is that the life you wished for them to have?”

[nicklloydnow]

“Tragedy is part of Israeli life, and I knew it would be part of my time as president. But none of us imagined a tragedy like this.

Against our will, we in Israel find ourselves at a tipping point for the Middle East and for the world and at the center of what is nothing less than an existential struggle. This is not a battle between Jews and Muslims. And it is not just between Israel and Hamas. It is between those who adhere to norms of humanity and those practicing a barbarism that has no place in the modern world.

Just like ISIS and Al Qaeda, the Hamas terrorists who attacked Israeli homes and families had no qualms about burning babies. They tortured children, raped women and destroyed peace-loving communities. They were so proud of their deeds that they made sure to capture them on video and even broadcast them live. These videos will forever remain a stain on those Palestinians and their supporters who celebrated that day and a testament to the depravity of the terrorists and of the ideas that inspired them.

But almost as disturbing for me is the realization that many in the world, including in the West, are willing to rationalize these actions or even support them outright. In the capitals of Europe we’ve seen rallies supporting the total destruction of Israel “from the river to the sea.” Professors and students at American colleges make speeches and sign statements justifying terrorism, even glorifying it.

We’ve heard certain governments fail to denounce Hamas, instead condemning Israel’s response and even seeking to offer justification for Hamas’s atrocities. It would have been unthinkable to hear such moral confusion uttered after the Sept. 11 attacks or after bombings in London, Barcelona and Baghdad. When I spoke to a joint meeting of Congress this year, I said terrorism “contradicts humanity’s most basic principles of peace.” It turns out that not everyone agrees.

All of this shows that this collision of values is happening not just here in Israel but everywhere and that the terrorist ideology threatens all decent people, not only Jews. History has taught us that foul ideologies often find the Jewish people first — but tend not to stop there. We find ourselves on the front lines of this battle, but all nations face this threat, and they must understand that they could be next.

(…)

But anyone who thinks the cynical exploitation of civilian suffering will tie our hands and save Hamas this time is wrong. For us and for the Palestinians, the suffering will end only with the removal of Hamas. Anyone trying to tie our hands is, intentionally or not, undermining not only Israel’s defense but also any hope for a world where these atrocities cannot happen.

In the months and years before the Hamas massacre, we began to see signs of the emergence of a better Middle East, from the Persian Gulf to North Africa — one inspired by progress and partnership, one in which Israel could finally feel at home among our neighbors. Will this be the world that emerges from this crisis? Or will it be the world desired by the murderous fundamentalists of Hamas?

(…)

Much is at stake at this moment, not just the future of Israel. On Oct. 7 we were all jolted awake and presented with a shocking challenge to our hopes and morals. How we meet this challenge will shape our future.”

“Fears continue to mount that the United States might be dragged into a regional conflict in the Middle East. But this dreaded war has already broken out: In recent weeks, US military bases have come under repeated attack from Iranian proxies in the region, and there is no sign the attacks will abate anytime soon. At first, US Central Command published regular updates and claimed that the attacks had produced no casualties apart from a contractor who died from a heart attack while seeking shelter, as well as 19 service members who had suffered traumatic injury from Iranian-proxy strikes against bases in Syria and Iraq. The drones and rockets were all being shot down, CENTCOM insisted. Now, CENTCOM has ceased issuing updates. How many Americans have been wounded and killed thus far? How many more are at risk of death and serious injury? For the moment, we don’t know.

All of this points to an ominous development: the decline of deterrence. Over the past several weeks, US officials pleaded with Iran-backed militants and terror proxies to stop launching drones and rockets and threatened severe consequences should they fail to comply. Washington has followed through on these threats by retaliating with airstrikes, all the while stressing the defensive nature of these strikes and promising to back away the moment the attacks on US bases stop. But after every airstrike, armed groups in the region have dialed up their anti-US activities. Reports are now circulating of several large armed groups in Iraq declaring a de facto state of war against America.

The core of the problem here is that US forces are spread out across more than a dozen bases in the region. None of these bases is strong enough to defend itself from a concerted attack. What they have relied on, instead, was the perception that if you attacked even a weak American outpost, you were asking for trouble: It would only be a matter of time before the entire US war machine descended upon you to neutralize the threat.

The premise was that nobody would ever call the American bluff. Lately, it has dawned on America’s enemies that the promised devastating retaliation isn’t likely to come: Washington is overstretched and too sick of war to put serious muscle behind the threats. Perhaps it is technically possible for the United States to go to war across the Middle East—to dispatch more forces to Syria, to re-occupy Iraq, to launch an air war against the Houthis in Yemen and Hezbollah in Lebanon. Yet given the difficulties it faced in Iraq, it is doubtful whether the US military would find success fighting a three- or four-front war; the effort might easily devolve into yet another quagmire. And there is little political appetite for attempting this. The public is tired of war, and congressional divisions over the federal budget show no signs of healing.

Deterrence was at first a helpful side effect of real American economic and military might. But over time, it became a crutch—and then, a Potemkin village: a façade put up as a cost-saving measure, to cover up the fact that the military was shrinking, political dysfunction growing, and fiscal stability eroding. Now, as drones and rockets rain down on US service members across Syria and Iraq, as the Houthis assail the Jewish state despite repeated warnings from Washington not to get involved, and as Hezbollah ramps up its encroachments on northern Israel, it is becoming clear that the Middle East has decided that American threats aren’t all that credible anymore.

Deterrence, once established, is cheap to maintain. But when it fails, it is incredibly costly to restore. Can the United States afford the massive costs that would be required to restore it? The coming days and weeks will provide us with an answer, but the signs are far from auspicious.”