#write dumb shit

[leo-lem]

the thing about fanfic is that omg there is amazing prose so often. i've dived head first into fics and loved the writing, but as a writer shouldn't you be writing how your characters will speak? like obviously some people have strong vocabularies but if two best friends are talking to one another they aren't going to be putting their best prose out there! they're gonna speak like a normal human! which is honestly like, why people read fanfic right? like we want to connect even further with the characters so we read something that is possibly an au or something that draws our attention and it can break us from the story if they're dropping five dollar words at every chance! idk... just some thoughts

[bigheartbuck]

8.17 fix it/canon divergent

"Eddie," Tommy says, and he sounds like he does at work. Firm. Calm. He's navigated helicopters through much worse than this. Raging storms and hurricanes. "Eddie, step away."

Eddie whips around, head snapping at him, eyes angry. Finger still pointed. Nostrils flaring. Buck is looking wide eyed. The tension in the air is palpable. Thick and heavy. "What are you doing here?" Eddie asks sharply and Tommy raises an eyebrow. Holds up the empty food containers. After the funeral, they'd all eaten at Hen's place. Buck had brought food for everyone. No one had really eaten anything. But it'd been nice, regardless. Or well, as nice as it gets when your captain dies and you have to do normal things after his funeral, such as eating and sleeping. Tommy had stayed behind to help Hen clean up. Had promised to drop off the food containers at Buck's.

So here he is. Backdoor wasn't shut and he walked in on Buck's face twisting into shame and grief and guilt and Eddie's raised voice.

Tommy puts the containers on the counter. Tries to meet Evan's eyes. It's charged in here. Tommy feels his stomach knot at the way Evan curls in on himself. Something isn't right. "Just came to bring these back," Tommy says, and then finally Evan looks back at him. "You okay?" Tommy asks.

Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms. “He’s fine. We're okay. Buck doesn't need you.” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “Eddie, come on…”

But Eddie ignores him, stepping closer to Tommy. “You’re not part of this team. You don’t know what we’ve been through.” It's a grief response, probably. Eddie is hot headed. Can be arrogant and mean. Buck's mentioned it jokingly before but it doesn't seem funny now. Nothing about it is fucking funny.

Tommy meets Eddie's gaze, unyielding. "I’m just here for Evan.”

Buck pushes past Eddie and towards Tommy and Tommy can see it in his tense shoulders, his set jaw. He's going to cry. And he definitely doesn't want Eddie to see right now. Whatever their argument was about, he needs to get out of here. "You wanted to catch that movie, right?" Evan says, voice brittle and sharp and he pointedly ignores Eddie. Tommy doesn't even blink. He touches the small of Evan's back. "Yeah," he says gently. "We're running late, come on."

Evan doesn't say anything on the drive. He stares down at his phone and bites his lip, and then out of the window and then back at his phone again. Fiddles with the seam of his jeans. Bounces his leg. At a red light stop, Tommy reaches over. Places his hand on Evan's thigh. Evan stills underneath his palm. Outside it's starting to rain. Drizzle, really. "My place okay?" Tommy asks and keeps his hand right there. Eyes on the road.

"Please." Buck's voice is rough, hoarse. Another beat. "I don't need you to save me, by the way. This isn't -- I was handling it fine."

Tommy glances at him. His chest clenches. "Hey, I know. That's not what--"

"He said I always make it about me." Buck blurts out, and he's angry and hurt. Grips Tommy's hand with his own, squeezes tightly. "Said I-- I don't know. Doesn't matter." His breath hitches. "I tried so hard to be okay, Tommy, I really did. And I - I know I'm a lot but I really thought I-" He lets out a wet huff. "I was there for everyone, I really tried to be. Like he said. To be what they needed but I was selfish, apparently and I-"

Tommy parks the car. They're here. He kills the engine and twists in his seat to look at Buck properly. The rain is picking up now, drumming against the windows.

"You're not selfish," he says firmly. "You're grieving and taking care of everyone. You're the least selfish person I know." Throat working, Buck shakes his head, looking down at their hands. His eyes are wet.

"Come on, let's head inside. Got some sweats you can borrow." Steal. Buck used to steal them. Sleep in them, sleep in Tommy's shirts. Buck seems to remember too because he manages a small, soft smile.

They get inside and Tommy flicks on the lights, door falling shut behind them. He's barely out of his shoes when Evan steps into his space, crashes into him. Tommy lets out an oomph sound and then folds his arms around him. He's put on muscle, has become so solid and filled out but he buries himself deep into Tommy's chest. Tommy thinks about watching Buck through the monitors and how badly he wanted to hold him then. How badly he wanted to catch his pain with his bare hands. "I got you," he whispers and presses his nose into the curls. "I got you, baby." The pet name slips out like that. Evan doesn't seem to notice, he's trembling and shaking, and Tommy can feel him crying more than he can hear him.

Tommy holds him. Holds him through it all.

[foldingfittedsheets]

At this point in our relationship my betrothed is well versed in my compulsive need to help animals. It wasn’t part of their upbringing but it was a huge part of mine. So now whether it’s lost dogs or injured birds they know that for me it’s not a matter of convenience, it’s just the only possible option.

My most notable rescue took place during one of the least opportune times. We were watching a friends boxer puppy, Bella. The dog was dumber than a box of rocks and I took deep offense that at six months old she still didn’t know her own name. My betrothed and I were working with her on that as well as leash manners, so we walked her frequently.

On our way home from a walk I looked across the street and saw a cat. My betrothed didn’t need to ask, it was simply a given that faced with a cat I’d go say hello, so they waited with Bella as I crossed the road.

As I approached the cat several things caught my attention. The first was that he wasn’t wearing a collar. The second was that his coat was greasy and disheveled- this was not a cat that was thriving if he didn’t have energy to groom. The third thing was that he was way too skinny, with bones jutting out from his shabby coat.

The fourth thing I noticed was that this cat was a purebred Bengal.

Now, I understand that it’s suspect to identify cats as bengals. Many people see tabbies and call them bengals. But as a teenager I became obsessed with these cats and went on a hyper obsessive deep dive. I spent hours reading about them, looking at pictures, and dreaming about Bengal cats.

The cat in front of me had unmistakable rosettes, the narrow frame, piercing eyes, and from a very rough estimation probably cost thousands of dollars. There was no world in which he should be wandering my neighborhood with no collar and his ribs jutting out.

Which all led me to one conclusion. He was lost.

The second I realized that it was over. It wasn’t a matter of thinking the situation through it was a simple conclusion: he was lost so I would help him by any means necessary.

This sweet cat showed he was friendly and trotted right over to greet me. I pet him and tentatively went for a lift. He did not care for that. Suddenly we were tussling, and it was instantly clear to me that he was going to stay lost if I couldn’t restrain him, so we pitted all our wiles against each other and at one point I had him agonizingly by just a toe but I refused to let go and finally I had him in my arms, one hand scruffing him and the other supporting his weight.

That’s when I noticed a couple things. There was blood dripping down my elbow. Across the street Bella was going crazy barking and pulling toward me and the cat. And my betrothed was giving me an agonized look.

Without a word they started power walking Bella back to our house. I followed at a slower pace, keeping my grip on this poor lost cat.

It was a warm summer afternoon and several neighbors were out chatting. They saw the circus parade of my betrothed dragging a yelping puppy and me following holding a screaming cat.

Oh yeah. So I forgot to mention. Bengals are not normal cats. They’re bred back with a wild cat and their vocalizations are on a completely different level. The cat in my arms wasn’t meowing or yowling. Instead he was making one long continuous eldritch wailing, oscillating in rage and distress.

My neighbors saw this, me, stonefaced carrying a cat who was casting evil spells with his voice, blood dripping down my arm, while a puppy frantically fought my betrothed to reach us, and they laughed.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more offended that no one offered any assistance, but it was fine. I knew I could count on my betrothed. I slowed my steps slightly again when I saw my betrothed round our corner. I knew they would kennel the puppy and bring a cat crate for me.

Sure enough, I rounded the corner and they had our door open, crate at the ready. I popped the Bengal into the carrier and we shut him into the bathroom.

Then I looked at my shaking, bloody hand. He’s scraped his back claws up me and it wasn’t deep but I was bleeding heavily. Then I looked at my betrothed and started to cry.

They held me while I had a panic attack and helped me thoroughly peroxide my cuts.

“That was so brave, weren’t you scared to grab him?” they asked me.

Truly, no. I think to be brave or scared you need to actually conceptualize what you’re doing and I hadn’t. I saw a cat that needed help, and then there wasn’t options, I just acted. The rule is that when you see a lost animal you help it and I always follow the rules.

They asked what my plan was and I didn’t have one. Where would we put him, in a home with three other cats and a puppy? I don’t know. I just grabbed him.

We ended up calling a friend who’s special interest is dog rescue. She brought her chip reader and a huge dog crate we could keep him in overnight with a disposable little box, food, and water.

He’d been summoning demons behind the bathroom door the whole time, making sounds previously confined to various netherworlds but she bravely uncaged him to read if he had a chip. No, to my surprise. It also turned out he was a love machine despite the ghastly sounds.

We loved on him and gave him small portions of food every fifteen minutes so he didn’t eat himself sick.

The next day we brought him to the local pet rescue, after I called ahead to warn them I was bringing in a Bengal. The lady had a very blasé attitude about this claim, clearly used to people claiming every lost tabby was a rare cat breed.

When she pulled him out of the crate she exclaimed, “Oh my god, it is a Bengal!”

“That’s what I promised. One whole ass Bengal.”

We said our goodbyes to the sweet man, and the posted him on the website as a found pet. He was picked up by his family two days later. I’ll never know how he escaped but I’m certain his family was so grateful to have him returned.

[egophiliac]

happy new year Ego!!! Just wanted to let you know that I absolutely adore your twst fanart and the tags are just an absolute pleasure to read! You are my greatest inspiration for my personal twst art and I just wanted to thank you for your wonderful masterpieces <333 if possible, may I ask what are some of your headcanons for the diasomnia family? If not for diasomnia then any other characters are fine as well!

thank you, and happy new year! 💚💜💚 that is amazing to hear; it's always a little bewildering but super flattering that other people like my silly little doodles so much!

I don't think I really have any really solid headcanons and also canon keeps validating me left and right (FLUFFY DOMESTIC DIAFAM IS REAL). mostly just kind of...impressions and general thoughts, if that makes sense! lately though I've been kind of obsessed with thinking about Lilia's hair, and specifically when/why he ended up cutting it. (l-look, we're bouncing around the timeline and I gotta make decisions about these things when I draw, it's relevant) (I mean I would probably be weirdly fixated on this anyway, but.)

I think I've settled on the idea that he kept it long until he went to NRC, partly because 1) I like drawing The Ponytail, and 2) I think he thought of NRC as a chance to reinvent himself a bit! he gets to go and be a wacky carefree teenager for a few years and have fun! (officially he's there to keep an eye on Son #1, but how much trouble could he get into, really.) so he gave himself a Cool Teen Haircut to go with his fresh new Cool Teen Persona!

also maybe he had some reflection on his hair's troubled past with three kids...

...and had to weigh his vanity versus the fact that he was going off to be around hundreds of kids on a daily basis, and. the choice suddenly seemed obvious.

[elf-trash]

reposting this bc the OP blocked me (and is blocking anyone else who disagrees which means blocked people can't reblog) and i want to say this loud and with my whole chest!!!!!

another Dragon Age fic was recently outed as being AI, and this is what the writer had to say for themselves about it:

so actually, Grammarly uses generative AI and is just as bad as ChatGPT. it also objectively makes your writing worse, it sucks the voice out of your prose and turns it into corporate sounding homogenized paste. it's also unethical for all the same reasons any generative AI is unethical. get a writing group and have a real human beta read for you if you don't trust yourself to check your own grammar etc. but honestly something unpolished and written entirely by your human brain and human imagination will ALWAYS be better than AI slop.

also, the part about published authors doing this is patently untrue. i know this is a huge problem in the self-publishing space, but most publishers now are including clauses in their contracts that expressly forbid the use of AI in ANY part of the creative process. this includes using ChatGPT to generate or clean up outlines or Grammarly to spellcheck and revise. so if you're trying to publish, don't fucking do this or you could literally be asked to return an advance if you get caught.

i've posted about this in the past, but AI detectors are actually shocking accurate these days. i've tested them extensively recently and they can consistently and correctly flag individual sentences written by ChatGPT in an otherwise original passage. and they almost never flag false positives. so the argument that AI detectors can't be trusted is just flat out wrong. are they correct 100% of the time? no. but can they indicate with a high degree of accuracy if AI was used in some capacity? absolutely, especially if there is additional evidence.

and for all the people hand wringing about AI detectors flagging false positives, let me just say this: if something is not AI written it is very easy to prove. you can't write anything of any considerable length without leaving a massive paper trail of notes and drafts. almost all writing software tracks changes and makes it very easy to prove you wrote something yourself. being falsely being accused of AI isn't actually a real problem and is only being made to seem as such by people who are trying to get away with and justify using AI or who are worried about getting caught.

i think a lot of people are just lured by a seemingly easy shortcut, and to their untrained eye, what the AI is spitting out feels "better" to them than their own writing. but i promise you it's not. trust your own brain and put in the work to improve at your craft rather than outsourcing the gift of your imagination to a robot that steals from other people's work.

i will continue to die on this hill!!!!!

[strohller27]

I'm sorry EXCUSE ME LADS but what is this ABSOLUTE SLEEPOVER BEHAVIOUR I'M

Hastings: Poirot are you asleep.

Poirot: yes

Hastings: oh good. me either. wasn't that seance thing that happened at dinner so creepy lol how do they do that

Poirot: *does that*

Hastings: OMG THAT'S AMAZING HOW DID YOU DO THAT

Poirot: yes. so amazing. alas it is only guesswork. now shut up and let me sleep

they're so funny I'm never gonna be normal about this

[lizzybeeee]

DATV explaining the 'Regret Prison'

A REGRET PRISON IS STUPID AND I'M TIRED OF PRETENDING THAT ITS NOT

TL;DR: a prison can serve as a metaphor but it shouldn't be entirely comprised of a metaphor.

From what I understood from what the game gave us: Solas has made a new prison to move the God's too - since bringing down the veil would free them from the Black City. This new prison is separate(?) from the fade or so far removed/contained that bringing down the veil would not compromise it...apparently. We interrupt his ritual, Solas gets sucked into the new prison he made, and the elven gods are free.

When Rook gets kicked into the fade they're physically there - which means it's a physical place in the fade, like how it was a mixture of physical/thought when we entered it in DAI. Which makes sense - the gods are real and living beings, they need to be in a place, there must be some aspect of physicality to it.

Alright, cool, it's a Black City 2.0 - I assume it's better defended to prevent people breaking in/out again?

NOPE.

We get there and it's a 'regret prison'?? It's tied to the regrets of those within it? Composed of regrets??? Solas had to wait for the right moment for Rook to be sufficiently 'full of regret' that they could switch places?

So is the prison tied to Solas's regrets? If so, how can Rook escape? The prison seems to work around the idea that it relies on the regrets of the person it's holding to work - which is how/why Rook was able to be trapped and later free themselves (along with whatever remains of the team apparently being able to do something on their end, not that we hear about it).

WHICH IS STUPID!

Are you telling me the prison intended to hold to megalomaniac elven gods was going to imprison them based on their own regrets? Is Solas assuming that Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain are as self-pitying as he is? They'd break out quicker than Rook did! He made a time out corner for the elven gods to sit in and gave them an out if they reflected on their emotions/regrets or decided that they don't regret what they did. Elgar'nan, a spirit of tyranny, is not going to 'regret' his actions - he is going to justify them by telling himself and others that he knows what's best.

We can come across some of Solas's regrets in the prison if you run around a bit and explore:

Remnant of Failure - talking about the orb from Inquisition.

Remnant of Parting - talking about Mythal

Remnant of Reflection - more vague, talking about the Titans I believe.

So maybe he altered it - maybe he intended the prison to be 'locked' with his own regrets because after a millennia of having a pity party he still can't bring himself to self-reflect and look to the future. But what if Solas died? Or if his guilt lessened - would it diminish the strength of the regret prison?

We already have pre-established lore (though DATV has shown they don't really give a crap tbh) that once the being that has claimed/altered an area of the fade is slain, it's influence diminishes both in and outside of the fade. So if the prison was tied to his regrets then it would require Solas to basically live forever to keep it stable - especially if he brought down the veil and removed the one barrier that kept the world and the fade apart.

Rook and Solas needed some assistance to exit - but it doesn't seem like it was much! Solas used his dagger and Rook just...got out through a fade tear? This is Solas's 'more secure' second prison? It has a worse track record than the Black City! If Rook - who is not an elven god - managed to escape the regret prison what is to stop anyone else from breaking in and out of the prison?

And what did Solas intend to do with the blight - the bulk of which is apparently in the black city?? If bringing down the Veil would free the gods in the black city doesn't that mean that the blight would also be released?! Did he have a plan? Why does he go fully ahead with bringing down the veil at the end if the black city is still there and filled with blight?!

I get it: the 'regret prison' is a metaphor for how Solas holds onto the past and how Rook can move past their regrets and grow. He's trapped by the past - it's a prison. Cool. But this prison is supposed to by a physical place to contain the gods - not just to solely contain Solas. The mission is literally called 'A Cage for Gods'.

The Black City is an actual place that's so far out of reach of anywhere else in the fade that no mage can ever reach it while in dreams - let alone physically, which was only done once and took tremendous effort/blood sacrifices. It made sense - it was cool to see floating in the sky in DAO!

Though it's not said specifically, it's strongly implied that Arlathan is the Black City. You can see in the concept art that floating elven city is exactly the same as the black city in DAO! It's this foreboding thing just lurking in the sky - a constant reminder of the sin that led to the horrors of the blights and darkspawn. A real place with lore and history that also serves as a metaphor for the hubris and destruction of those who call themselves gods and act as tyrants -> for both the evanuris and the magisters.

I WANT TO UNDERSTAND THIS BIOWARE!

WHAT IS THIS KINGDOM HEARTS NONSENSE???!!

[hypertechnica]

star trek as a concept is completely sexless. it is utterly devoid of sex. not one drop of convincing sexual tension has ever graced the screen on any star trek show. the weird unintentionally homoerotic psychosexual mind game shit on the other hand,

[vind3miat0r]

do you think Treasure says Porter's name like a priest would say a prayer?

theyre so utterly devoted to him, and who could blame them? hes the first person in years to see them as more than a tool, more than a source of entertainment — he sees them, in their entirety

but in the back of their mind, a cruel habit whispers to them when the sky is dark and theyre pressed close against him — they have to give to keep receiving the blessing of his presence...

so they give themself — mind and body, heart and soul, all devoted to their worship of him, sure that hes the one god that wont abandon them like all the others had

and his name falls so easily from their lips, a well-worn and weathered prayer meant just for him and him alone, its almost scary how naturally it comes to them — are they too much? are they not enough? what will it take for him to stay with them?

but their god banishes those fears when he whispers their name right back to them, saying it like how a priest says a prayer...

[keikeichi123456]

hear me out, zosan grindr au HEAR ME OUT

sanji, after finally coming to terms with the fact that he might not be totally straight, decides to download grindr and sets up a profile with the help of nami

luffy plans a hangout with all his friends and the moment sanji walks into the room, the telltale sound of two grindr notifications goes off

the room is silent. everyone is staring at sanji. sanji wants the ground to swallow him up whole. eventually conversation starts up again but sanji still wants to die

wait a minute…two notifications went off which means…

sanjis head snaps over to where zoro’s lazily nursing a bottle of beer and checking his phone

sanji hears another notification going off and hastily pulls out his phone, attempting to silence the damn thing when he sees what the notification banner says:

Grindr

Roronoa Zoro just tapped you!

oh that fucking asshole

sanji quickly opens up the app and clicks on the offending profile and there it is in all its glory, a picture of zoro holding up a fucking fish, holy shit how cliche can one get—

Roronoa Zoro

Online Now

0 feet away

Not looking for anything serious

of course that assholes not looking for anything serious, the guy’s one true love is swords for fucks sake

Grindr

Roronoa Zoro: i didnt know u were on here

sanjis fingers fly over the keyboard, ignoring the fact that zoro was literally at yelling distance

Sanji: fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou

Roronoa Zoro: lol

Roronoa Zoro: i mean if u want

Sanji: ALSNDNWKFKCNNSKW KYSKYSKYSKYSKYSKYS DIE

Roronoa Zoro: 😂

shenanigans ensue

(too lazy to write it all out rn but basically zoros been pining after sanji for so long but is sure that it wont be going anywhere cuz that is the straightest of the straight (which he will later learn isnt true) so he uses grindr to just release some pent up energy, the reason why his bio says hes not looking for anything serious is cuz hes in love with sanji like IN LOVE IN LOVE

sanji doesnt know that and so when he starts developing feelings…that really fucks him up, he thinks zoros just using him but sanjis terrible at communication and zoros kinda dumb so

they eventually figure it out tho and finally sort their shit out)

[l3viat8an]

Lucifer: You seem happy. What are you writing?

Satan: A will.

Lucifer: Well it is smart to prepare for the future and-

Satan: It's yours.

Lucifer: Of course, it is.

[charmwasjess]

Whatever you do, don’t think about how happy Sifo-Dyas must have been that last time with Dooku on Serenno. He’d been fired as a Seeker, lost his seat on the Jedi Council, had the worst rounds of visions of his life, and finally, finally, someone is listening to him, someone believes him, someone gets it.

He’s back with his best friend who promised to help him save the galaxy, like the two of them were made to do together. Like they always knew they were going to do.

[frankensteinzmonstrrr]

Monster fucking is like one dick two dick red dick blue dick

[marley-manson]

the topic is Trapper and the army as foils, you have three hours, go

In no small part the satire of Mash, particularly in the first half of the show, is tied up with gender performance.

The army represents traditional, stifling and violent masculinity. This is shown through everything from freudian jokes about guns (eg Frank and Margaret's flirtations in The Sniper or The Gun), to Margaret trying to cajole Hawkeye into performing a more traditional standard of masculinity while treating him like a soldier in Comrades in Arms Part 2, to many jokes and comments about (usually) Hawkeye not being a real man in contrast to army standards and various specific army personnel (eg Lyle in Springtime, Flagg in White Gold), to Frank and Margaret's worship of the masculinity of the army ("He's twice the man you'll ever be," re: Flagg and Hawkeye, Margaret's lust for MacArthur, Frank pursuing the sniper in The Sniper in an attempt to be a "real man" in Margaret's eyes, etc) to many jokes positioning the military as a sexually aggressive man pursuing Hawkeye ("Sure, the sun the moon the stars, your high school letterman jacket. Same deal I promised nurse Baker." "A receipt please, and promise you'll go out with other doctors," etc.)

In contrast, the main characters all fail to perform traditional gender in some way, from crossdressing to immaturity to indecisiveness to peacefulness to Margaret's masculinity and Frank's pathetic failure to live up to his own masculine ideals, to just about everything about Hawkeye. His cowardliness, his jokes about not being a real man, his jokes about taking the feminine role in sexual encounters with men and women, even multiple double entendres about his average at best penis size.

Trapper is the most traditionally masculine of the main cast. He still subverts masculinity in some subtle ways here and there, such as the occasional feminizing joke and mentions of not being in great shape, but overall he's the more butch counterpart to Hawkeye's fem. He plays the role of boxer while Hawkeye plays the role of diva in their respective manager/star roleplaying episodes. He's broader and buffer and plays football, often seen playing catch with someone while walking around the compound, while Hawkeye disdains sports and doesn't participate. He reads Field and Stream which Hawkeye derides in Alcoholics Unanimous while making a wry comment about shaving his armpits. A past lover nicknamed him Big John.

And there are many, many jokes about Hawkeye and Trapper being sexual partners. The recurring Uncle Trapper and Aunt Hawkeye gag, if my father sees this you'll have to marry me, for me? only if you put those on, your father and I will tell you what we did to have you, that's when I fell in love with him, etc etc etc. It's constant. In these jokes Hawkeye usually takes the feminine role, though not strictly every time ("Me and the missus," is one exception in As You Were, the dance in Yankee Doodle Doctor is another).

Trapper's masculinity is differentiated from traditional military masculinity in a few ways. Most obviously, Trapper abhors the military's violence. He never uses guns and mocks Frank's obsession with them, he's a healer rather than a soldier, and he's disgusted by the results of military violence on the men on his operating table.

He's also secure in himself. The military's brand of masculinity is strongly characterized by insecurity and overcompensation. Frank is the main representative of this military insecurity - a coward who insists he's brave (The Army Navy Game), a man who clings to a phallic gun to compensate for his sexual and gendered inadequacies (a main theme of The Sniper, perfectly mirrored when the army itself comes in with a vastly disproprotionately powerful automatic machine gun on a helicopter to shoot down one sixteen year old), a homophobe repressing his own attraction to men (As You Were, the original script of George), etc. We also see this in Flagg, who implicitly sublimates sexual urges into violence (seen when he suggestively caresses his gun while describing how he wants to torture a boy in Officer of the Day).

Trapper doesn't need to overcompensate. He's well-endowed physically, he's portrayed as a competent and considerate lover, he's a brave man who doesn't mind being seen as a coward, and he may or may not be attracted to men but either way he's not a homophobe (George) and he doesn't express his sexuality through violence. When Margaret proves herself stronger than him, his response is to be impressed rather than offended (Bombed). When he dances with Hawkeye for a gag, he doesn't mind letting Hawkeye lead.

He's also differentiated in terms of tradition, with the mliitary representing a more propagandic 50s traditionalism, and Trapper representing a 70s, countercultural freedom from tradition. We see this in the way Trapper has plenty of sex despite being married, while adultery is a court-martial offense in the military. It's notable that he's open and carefree about it, while Frank and Margaret are surreptitious and hypocritical in their affair. This lack of traditionalism is also shown in his disrespect for authority, often in direct contrast to Frank and Margaret's worship of it, and his allyship to George who the military would persecute for his sexuality.

So ultimately we can see that while Trapper and the military are both examples of masculine performance, Trapper's masculinity differs from the military's in being more flexible, less violent, less traditional, and more secure. The military's masculinity is far more toxic than Trapper's, particularly in the context of 70s counterculture media, which aligns womanizing with sexual liberation rather than a lack of respect for women, accurately or not.

This contributes to their respective dynamics with Hawkeye.

Hawkeye, we've established, is usually more feminine, and there are a myriad of jokes characterizing Trapper as his sexual partner, as well as the military as a sexual pursuer.

The jokes Hawkeye and Trapper make about their relationship tend towards cozy domesticity. They're Radar's "aunt and uncle," they directly roleplay marriage ("Martha, we're going to have to move, the people upstairs are impossible,") and less directly behave as though married (the bickering in Alcoholics Unanimous, the discussion about naming their pony in Life With Father). Occasionally they're treated as a healthy couple in contrast to Frank and Margaret's toxicity ("While I'm gone, promise you'll go out with other doctors," vs "Touch anyone else and I'll cut off your hands" in Aid Station).

In some instances the jokes lean towards predatory - "If you're trying to get me drunk, it'll work," or "Who is this man in bed with me?" "I followed you home from the movies," but they're always playful, always fond. If Hawkeye takes on a submissive or victimized role in these jokes, it's one he has fun with and discards just as easily in the context of the rest of his relationship with Trapper.

So, it's important to note that Hawkeye and Trapper support each other and look after each other in an equal, enthusiastic friendship. From Trapper ensuring Hawkeye gets to sleep in Doctor Pierce and Mr. Hyde, to Hawkeye supporting Trapper when he wants to adopt a child, to Trapper right at Hawkeye's side as they attempt to procure an incubator, they are there for each other every step of the way. If their relationship is a marriage in some ways, it's a healthy, strong, and non-traditional marriage, an equal and open partnership free of jealousy and insecurities.

Compare that to the military's relationship with Hawkeye. In jokes it's characterized as powerful and predatory, far from an equal partnership. Sometimes it approaches positive - in Carry on Hawkeye, much of the humour is derived from Hawkeye and Margaret's gendered role reversal as she assumes military command of the unit. Hawkeye playfully calls her sir, seductively lies on her desk like a secretary in a porn film, and most notably treats an immunization shot as sexual penetration in a prolonged gag about sexual role reversal. Hawkeye has fun playing a sexually submissive role to a representative of military authority in this episode, but it is a submissive role.

Several of the one-off jokes have a similar sensibility, such as the double entendre of "My bellybutton's been puckering and unpuckering all day," in response to a representative of MacArthur assuming their excitement over the general's arrival to the unit, or Hawkeye's "Okay, take me, I'm yours," to Colonel Flagg. They demonstrate a willingness to play the receptive role on Hawkeye's part, but they also, pointedly, disturb the object of the jokes.

When Hawkeye makes these jokes that sexualize military authority, he's attempting to be provocative as well as defiantly drawing disruptive attention to his own powerlessness as a drafted surgeon. The power dynamic between Hawkeye and the authority of the military only goes one way, and Hawkeye gets a kick out of pointing it out in ways that perturb the representatives of that authority, but it's a power dynamic that takes its toll on him.

Many of Mash's plotlines revolve around Hawkeye rebelling and attempting to seize some scrap of agency back from the military. Adam's Ribs, for example, in which he starts a mild riot over the food he's being fed and spends the episode attempting to procure barbecue ribs from Chicago (which Trapper procures for him), or Back Pay where he tries to charge the military for his forced labour. A particularly notable example is Some 38th Parallels, in which Hawkeye complains about being paid the equivalent of a nickel per operation, and his frustration manifests in impotency until he can perform a gesture of rebellion against the military.

One unfortunate consistency of these episodes is that the army ultimately retains its power. When Hawkeye achieves his goals, it's only in small ways that do little more than satisfy his own need to assert his sense of self. Often, Hawkeye doesn't achieve his goal at all, but is thwarted by the army, such as in For Want of a Boot. In every instance he remains powerless in comparison to the authority of the military.

So the context in which Hawkeye makes these sexualized jokes about the military literally fucking him is one of abject helplessness. In a sense, all he's capable of is pointing out what the military is doing and putting it in his own, audacious terms. He's not capable of preventing it. His jokes usually have an edge of bitterness to them in delivery, and when they don't, that tone is imparted anyway by the greater context.

With Trapper, Hawkeye can play-act a marriage or an assault, but in either case he's an enthusiastically consenting, equal partner. Trapper's performance of masculinity allows for Hawkeye to take any role from victim to wife to husband, and enables Trapper to respond in kind from a position of equality and respect. The military, in its insecure, domineering performance of masculinity, is a dictatorial authority, never allowing Hawkeye perform any role but a feminized, victimized one, and only ever giving him the choice of whether to perform with a wry smile or a sneer.

In short, Trapper is the cool, considerate service top to the military's insecure domineering boyfriend.

I'm tagging everyone who enabled this lol, share the blame. @beansterpie @majorbaby @professormcguire @rescue-ram

[mister-nibbs]

cj designs I did a while ago cause I don't have the motivation to draw them digitally currently

hi I lied when I said I was taking a break hahaha cough anyways I can post without shame on here so. boom here's something

arty! (tmph) he's missing the funky bandana on his arm in this sketch but yea

preppy as hell. next up

tsot ! don't have a nickname for this guy I'll just go with what the fandom chose aka theseus

lastly I have sydney/syd (cid ! haha get it cause. cid >> sid >> syd/sydney (like the australia gasppp)) who I don't have a full body of the final design like I do the others but I do have this little doodle

oh also he's a skeleton did I tell you?

yeeeeeaaaaaa mossy skeleton guy THIS IS WHAT HE GETS FOR 5 MEGALOVANIA COVERS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ALBUM /lh I'm counting them as a part of him even though it's actually in scrapyard FUCK YOU /j

honest to god I lied earlier there is no final design I'm still figuring it out. but his personality is more like the second image seen here that's. that's more like him I think. still probably'll keep the space jacket I think it's cool as balls

anyways byeeeee go listen to the new song

[irlbop]

Copia can talk shit at and roll his eyes at his pops all he wants — that doesn’t change the fact he’s very much like Papa Nihil. It wasn’t in how he carried himself, definitely not. And it wasn’t in his sexual prowess or even in his showmanship.

No….It was that Copia, much like his father, was a goddamn simp.

Had he been confronted before about what he felt his biggest weakness in a relationship was, he’d probably half-jokingly answer, “Perhaps I can be a bit, eh, too passionate. It’s the romantic in me.”

Well. If what he felt for frivolous flings and brief courtships was passionate, then he hadn’t yet found a word to fully capture just how adoring he was of you. Mainly because when it came to you, his mind was aflame with blazes normally found only in the pits of Hell. In fact, in moments of lucidity, Copia would imagine that that was how they very well got there: Perhaps the Old One scooped them up and placed them inside of him, as a gardener might thoughtfully place a treasured bloom meant to grow into a bushel most brilliant and blazing.

It would make the most sense, after all:

Whenever he gazed upon you, whether you wore your most simple cut of habit or donned your most greasy and stained of relaxation clothing, Copia swore you were meant to portray a second fall of Man.

As though Satanas commissioned your creation, and Asmodeus took special care when carving your form and breathing the fire of life into it.

When you smiled, the inferno inside of his mind and chest would flashover into his cheeks, painting his face nearly as red as his tracksuit. When you giggled at his antics, his heart lurched against the cage of his ribs, begging and pleading to be released so that it might merge with yours. Never to be separated, as one single, throbbing thing. When you scolded him, the fire would travel down low, the smoke rising just enough to cloud his mind and leave him wanting to crawl upon his old knees to beg for your forgiveness. He’d even kiss the tips of the expensive shoes he’d insisted on gifting you; it was the most sensible thing to do, after all.

Primo would chuckle and call it a grotesque version of puppy love; Secondo would sniff and call him a masochist; Terzo would taunt and jeer with accusations of him being pussy-whipped.

And while part of the youngest Emeritus brother wanted to feel embarrassed and assert himself as the strong and competent leader he was meant to portray himself as…If any of them ever had somebody like you, he knew they, too, would fall to your feet in worship.

To beg you to let them be your acolyte, to weep for the privilege of serving you, of servicing you. Ah, but that was Copia’s job and Copia’s honor alone. One he performed most devotedly.

You were created for worship, and he, your sole devotee.

Only unlike his father, he wasn’t going to fuck this up — not when he could imagine fucking only you.