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jesncin · 9 days ago

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I’d really like to hear your thoughts on MAWS characters alongside Lois, if you want to do that of that’s entirely up to you but it would be really interesting ^_^

I've written about maws a fair bit on this blog! You can find my general thoughts on the jesncin talks maws tag and my massive maws Lois essay here for my thoughts on her. Suffice to say I'm not a fan of this show, lol. I haven't been able to stomach watching season 2 so my entire knowledge is limited to season 1. With that said, roundup of my thoughts on maws characters:

Clark Kent: boring. Vanilla. Critical lack of hero motivation and idealism outside of "people are getting hurt!" as a platitude. Just some guy who does chores because that's the nice thing to do. Not defeating the Superman Is Boring allegations- just has an uwu cute cinnamon roll himbo filter on it.

Lois Lane: xenophobic asian lois lane is the worst crime ever committed to me. A historically jaded, award winning, accomplished career woman fighting against work place misogyny is now a cutesty uwu girl-failure who needs the help of two men to get hired. Barf.

Jimmy Olsen: I get the attempt at making him a conspiracy theorist as a means of tapping into Jimmy's wacky silver age antics and to bounce off of Clark for shenanigans, but it doesn't meaningfully interrogate how that is at odds with his job as a journalist. Also he was sidelined hard in S1- more than he was in CW Supergirl.

Perry White: I was hoping that unlike STAS and if MAWS was going to pull from anime, that this meant strong relationships with Superman's cast system. But nope. Perry is just a running gag. I was hoping for a Snapper and Kara dynamic like in CW Supergirl.

Scoop troop (Cat Grant, Ronnie Troupe, Steve Lombard): Superfluous characters, easily delete-able. All of which have been reinterpreted as anime stereotypes. Yawn.

Newskid Legion: Also delete-able and a waste of my time. They should be called newsies. They make no sense as outdated characters placed in a futuristic setting. What is child labor doing this late in the game. Be more creative with modernizing outdated characters.

Pa and Ma Kent: Boring. The biggest problem you can have with the Kents is making them generic supportive parents like they're sentient Hallmark cards. Pa Kent got the bad end of the stick as the clueless parent, while Ma Kent was pushed as the heart of the family to Clark. Not that she did much.

Vicki Vale: Absolutely insane of this show to add another Asian xenophobe woman journalist. The MAWS crew love gloating about how they're not going to include Batman in MAWS, but they can't resist putting a Gothamite in their show and stealing rogues from other heroes. Could've brought Angela Chen (a canonically asian Metropolis reporter) from STAS but I guess she's not as big a name as a Gotham character, eh?

Livewire: the glowdown of a century. DCSHG continues to outperform every modern version of this character. Why make her a generic smuggler when her original job as a shock jokey is far more interesting?? Podcaster or influencer was right there. Her motives make no sense too.

Intergang crew: Why. Did they consolidate. Banshee with two random rogues (Mist & Roughouse) and call them Intergang. That's so many glowdowns at once. I've never seen someone look at a hero's diverse rogues gallery and say "let's consolidate all these characters so we have less material to work with in the future". I hate how the rogues are all tech based, and share the same origin. These baddies kickstarted the show's "villains with petty crime motivations": no ideological or thematic draw to them.

Ivo/Parasite: Another villain with nonsensical motivations. His business is going bankrupt so he sets up an investor event party to show off his Black Panther Lexo suit (which was apparently a response to Superman! A stranger that we can't trust! And somehow these expensive suits are more trustworthy) only to attack his investors and get owned by Superman. Then he just has a hateful vendetta against Superman. People who think this is a good Parasite interpretation because they projected vague Elon Musk are kidding themselves. I could clown on MAWS' Ivo all day. He is so badly written.

Heatwave: Why genderbend a Flash villain when Superman already has a Fire Woman in his rogues gallery? Volcana? Remember her? She's from the same show yall got Livewire from? Praise this show all you want for "reigniting interest in Superman", it's clear they're willing to toss away actual Superman cast characters for more popular characters from other heroes when it suits them. What's Heatwave's motivations? Petty crime.

Slade Wilson/Deathstroke: Imagine building this character up to be a big threat only to do nothing with him lol. I can't take him seriously, his voice acting is the worst and I hate his design. This show is so desperate to make attractive villains for fangirls it's frankly pathetic. How did people even mistaken him for Superman? He doesn't FLY.

Mallah and The Brain: This is what happens when you revive gay villains and put them through the HarlIvy Respectability Beam on fast forward. The gay villains aren't villains anymore! Because that would be bad representation! They're now cute cuddly domestic dads who want to raise robot children and run away together!! How TRITE. Mallah has "american faking a french accent" syndrome but bad voice acting is the norm in this show.

Mxy: The one time they include a villain that Lois and Jimmy could easily help Superman defeat (Mxy's whole deal is that you can send him to his dimension by tricking him to spell or say his name backwards) they opt to make it even dumber by just "removing his hat". Because the MAWS crew aren't smart enough to think of ways Superman and his pals can trick Mxy. For the record, CW Supergirl got this right in comparison.

Legion of Loises: It's the way this show can't write competent women even when that's the goal. All the characters act so stupid and that includes the Legion of Loises. At least MAWS!Lois learns the important lesson that even though she's not as accomplished as these career focused versions of her, at least she can keep her man. Misogyny in a cute package.

Alex/Lex Luthor: Go away. Ugly design I can't stand him. Miserable voice acting as usual.

Amanda Waller: She's pretty generic here. Playing second fiddle to Sam Lane for the most part, but this show has a problem with fleshing out Black characters in general so.

Sam Lane: We now have up to THREE asian xenophobes in MAWS season 1. The crew did not think their diversity through because at the end of the day S1 was really about a White Guy Alien getting oppressed by mostly people of color. Without a hint of irony.

Jor-El: I thought the language barrier between him and Clark was an inspired choice and clever as a means of postponing Clark learning about his heritage. But nope. Jor-El just starts magically talking in English later on. Otherwise boring and generic!

Brainy: I know he's prominent in S2 so I can't speak much for his character from the small impression I got of him in S1, but I can say that he looks mad ugly <3 truly horrible rogues designs in this show.

PHEW!! That's my roundup of MAWS character opinions! Wild how I can't even pinpoint a character I like on this show, lol. I know Kara's in S2 as well, and what I've seen of her sounds awful. Her design is bad too. I'm just not ready for the heartbreak of meeting that version of her because I love Supergirl so much :((

#askjesncin #jesncin talks maws #this is basically a roast session so if you don't wanna read a maws roast post then just scroll away #nice to have a summarized version of my thoughts in one place tho haha

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fxiled-fxithful · 1 month ago

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Previous Cycle. . . . Year - 1925

Angela steps out of a ballroom in Heaven, a crystal staircase causes her light steps to echo for a moment until she finds herself near a transparent fountain that allows any who gazes into the depths to see into the mortal realm and a few choice places in the Pride Ring.

She took a deep breath as she rested a hand over her chest. Being surrounded by so many angels in one place was far too much for one who was far too used to working on her own. The energy in the room was overwhelming; especially knowing what tomorrow would bring.

She needed to center herself. Tomorrow was a big day and her attention required her to be focused at all times. "You know, there's no shame in enjoying the company of one's peers.."

A soft and welcoming male voice sounded behind her. She knew that voice anywhere, no matter the cycle.

The corner of her lips curved for just a moment, but she didn't bother to turn her head as his visage appeared beside her in the reflection of the fountain.

"Hmn..and I suppose you consider yourself among them, Uriel?" A soft chuckle slips from her lips, "You know as well as I do what happens tomorrow. Every angel and demon will be turned to dust. Neither have proven to be worthy of saving in this cycle."

There was a visible roll of the eyes from the other, scoffing at Angela's words.

"You're still on about that, are you? You don't truly think Father would purposely harm his own creations, do you? We are beings of the Light and Righteous. We have committed no fault and shall forever remain as a monument of prosperity."

Her cold icy gaze turned to him,"If that is how you truly feel then this cycle is done for. I have no pity for those who will not listen to reason. For all your knowledge and wisdom, you refuse to see the truth. War will be at your doorstep at dawn. I pray that you will learn the error of your ways..old friend."

The blond angel narrowed his own eyes at Angela. He didn't quite like where this conversation was going, if a conversation is what you would call it. He reached out for her left forearm, "Hold it. When we were first introduced two months ago, you claimed to be God's Messenger. Are you telling me that you weren't lying back then?"

Angela looked away from him as she secretly used her ice and snow to cool her self until the touch of her own skin would burn his hand with frostbite.

"I have taken an oath to never speak a lie upon my duty to serve God. I would certainly never lie about being his messenger."

She closed her eyes," Do you recall that battle that took place two weeks ago? You should consider yourself lucky for having so few casualties. At least Hell is taking this business seriously...but it will not be enough. Both Heaven and Hell must express unity. Yet the High Heavens will only acknowledge a threat if it is spelled out in front of them." Uriel then quickly pulled back his hand from her arm, feeling the bite of her frozen skin.

"What's new? Hell is always preparing for war. Be it with us or themselves. We pay them little mind, except for Charlie. I don't know why she thought it was a brilliant idea to come here and try to arrange a meeting with Sera. She's right where she belongs, behind bars."

A tired sigh leaves Angela's lips, "..and that is how Heaven will fall. Being reminded of it's own foundations is seen as a crime and none will thank you for it. Charlie is a key of unity. She sought out an audience with Sera to bring the powers of Heaven and Hell together. Yet, she is met with bars and chains. You lot must be ashamed of yourselves. Her purpose is greater than your own." She takes a moment to remove a promise ring off of her left hand and carefully takes his right to place the ring inside his palm.

"I had hoped that my influence towards you would allow this cycle a chance. Your voice speaks louder than mine, dearest Uriel. However, that power has gone to your head and you ignore the danger before you. I cannot find peace with one who does not listen. There is a smoke among your bright flame. Though I had hoped to settle in this time, I see now that there is no place for me here. This is goodbye, Uriel. I pray that that you make amends with God before your final hour."

Before she could allow him to say another word, she disappears in white flash with only a few white feathers left in her wake where she once stood.

Angela reappeared before the jail in Heaven, but paused in her steps as she felt a familiar shadow near by.

"You know, it's rude to eavesdrop."

A shadowed figure steps to her side, a small smile given from under a black cloak from a dark feminine figure. It was none other than Lady Death herself. Azrael.

"You know me, Angela. I like to be well informed." The smile she wore died, glancing towards the jail, "So..we really are going to have a war then? So much for having a vacation."

"You can always flee. I know you're wonderful at doing that."

"Hardy har har..very funny. I didn't flee, I left due to a need to mend my wings." She gave Angela a light nudge, "Are you sure you want to do this? Heaven won't forgive you if you try to release one of their prisoners, especially one who's a Princess of Hell."

"The only Heaven I cared about is long gone, turned to ash within the flames of judgement. I am but a messenger and thus, I must ensure that the key of unity is free. Follow if you wish, but do not stand in my way."

With that, she steps inside, freezing every guard she comes in contact with, always checking for keys - but none carried any, not even the Captain of the Prison Guard.

She did, however, find Charlie's cell. There was a singular chair she was strapped into with a pair of black glasses over her eyes. Angela's heart sank. Strapped in to face a faux paradise so she would forget to go home or worry about why she came to plead her case to Heaven to begin with.

But the bars for Charlie's cell were tough to move on her.

"Stand back!"

Angela quickly stands to the side and allows Azrael to use her scythe to cut through the bars for the door. Metal bars fell as she held a hand out for Angela to walk in. Smiling a little, she walks into Charlie's cell. Kneeling before the child, she carefully pulls the rose colored shades off of her eyes.

"Hello Charlie..I'm here to get you back home. Just remain still for a moment."

As expected, the Princess was disoriented and her eyes remained cloudy. Something she would take advantage of as she removed the bindings around Charlie's legs and arms. Once off, Angela carried the young demon and teleported herself to Hell, just outside of her father's home. Angela took a moment to help Charlie stand upright before knocking on the door.

Thankfully, a maid answered the door, who immediately sent word to Lucifer of her return while helping Angela bring her inside. In a matter of seconds, Lucifer was at his daughter's side. Seeing the family, or what was left of it, together again, was heartwarming.

Just as Angela was about to leave, Lucifer left his daughter's side for a moment to have a word with the angel. He thanked her for bringing his daughter home. After losing his beloved Lilith in a battle two weeks ago in Heaven to aid them in a fight - only to be shot down by angelic by standards and have his daughter imprisoned for seeking out peace not long after watching her own mother fall at their hands, he felt lost. With Charlie back, he finally felt as if he had a semi sense of normalcy.

Angela could only smile as she gave him a blessing for protection and true strike for the start of his battle come morning.

Their cycle may be doomed to fail, but there was no harm in offering a glimmer of hope for the future.

With a final farewell, Angela made her way back to God's side.

No feathers of aid were offered, no mutterings of prayer to summon her. No, she would like to see if Heaven and Hell could look past their differences to work together as one - complete unity.

Unfortunately, Heaven was too proud to accept any help from those from Hell, despite how much they were willing to look past their differences.

This cycle deserved to crumble and burn to ash. There were so few sympathies for any, leaving no soul for herself to mourn over.

Not Uriel, Charlie, Lucifer or even Lady Death...

#-unholy crusade-#;a message from beyond;#tw: long post #tw: death mention #tw: manipulation

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my-shields-are-down · 2 years ago

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So what do you think of the article that came out (TVline)? I'm not sure what to think?

I take the TV Line articles with a grain of salt. They saw the first two episodes and then promoted a whole slew of things that happened in a completely different timeline than they said they would. I only really rely on TVline when they announce what shows got cancelled or renewed.

The Rookie is a dramedy -the drama part of that is way more heavily weighted and tied to the crime being fought than in the relationships of the characters. Definitely happened this season - Rosalind, Elijah, Jake & Sava, Hajek and Vegas, the Collar bomber, etc. and while yes there’s been quite a bit of angst for Chenford to work through (Chris almost dying, Ashley dumping Tim after his surgery, them finally getting their heads out of their asses and realizing they are in love with each other), there hasnt been anything insurmountable. I believe Isobel and whatever “case” she brings them will follow that pattern as well.

I think Isobel coming back could be a good thing for Tim and Lucy. Isobel indirectly had a tremendous impact on the formation of Tim & Lucy’s relationship from the beginning of the show. She’s part of the foundation of their relationship. Lucy helped Tim heal and move on. Him seeing Isobel happy and we assume thriving and vice versa should permanently silence any lingering doubts either of them have about “did they do the right thing?” Whatever that “thing” is.

I hope that Isobel speaks with Lucy about UC and speaks to Tim about loving Lucy whether she does UC or not.

Based on the episode titles, I am assuming Lucy does a longer term UC assignment NEXT episode and we finally get resolution as to whether or not she follows that path. I think something goes wrong and she ends up choosing something else. At least, I hope she chooses a different career path - she has so many options other than becoming a detective. But that’s me.

Part of me would love to see BOTH Lucy and Isobel get into a situation where they need Tim (and Metro) to get out of it. So that if there’s even a smidge of lingering feelings on either Tim’s or Isobel’s side, they are quashed permanently because Tim will always save Lucy first.

Lastly, I think the next episode will have a more direct impact on Chenford than the Isobel episode. I’m a sucker for a season long story arc with parallels. Think back to Episodes 1, 2 and 3.

Episode 1 - Tim and Lucy being drawn to each other but in denial about what they want and feel, another kiss, almost fucking and Chris being the ultimate cock blocker.

Episode 2 - Tim pushing Lucy to go to UC school, she thinking he doesn’t want her, both of them breaking their own hearts by not saying what they want

Episode 3 - Lucy is back from UC school and her relationship with Tim is in tatters. They longing look at each other across the room, Rosalind is still a threat, and Lucy is on Rosalind’s trail.

I expect the last 3 episodes to be similar but opposite. They are in a strong, committed loving relationship. They aren’t going to break up, but this will be a test. I have no proof of the following - this is 100% my guess/wish.

Episode 20 - Isobel comes back and kind of forces her way into their relationship causing both of them to reconsider this whole UC career path and what it means for them individually and together. (we are here!)

Episode 21 - Lucy goes undercover for a longer assignment. Both of them struggle with the separation. Something goes wrong and Lucy’s cover is blown. She gets hurt, Tim panicky and rushes in to save her.

Episode 22 - Elijah and Oscar (with a little lingering help from Rosalind, you know Oscar would’ve figured out how to help er in some way) break out of jail and go after Very pregnant Angela. Lucy and Aaron get pinned down in a shootout and Aaron gets shot protecting Lucy. Lucy and Aaron get rushed to the hospital. Lucy is ok. She and Tim openly declare their love for one another, and we are left hanging for Season 6 when someone (not Tim and not Lucy) and their heart monitor flatlines. Dun dun dun…. Is it Aaron? Angela? Elijah?

Oh and Bailey bails on Nolan at some point.

Isobel is here for a single episode - so I expect her to have the biggest impact on Tim, but I also expect Chenford to have a profound impact on her.

#chenford #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #tvline can suck it #my hopes +dreams for the rest of the season #isobel bradford #tim loves lucy #i'm in chenford withdrawal #is the hiatus over yet #Chenford is not breaking up

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ahmedmootaz · 9 months ago

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Good evening! I've been pondering over a question about AiP since before my first ask, and have finally decided to ask! Throughout the story, the topic of "was it all worth it" seems to be a big question that Ayin continues to evade with "I don't know." (Classic Ayin) for a more straightforward question: If there was no other way to release the light, would Ayin still do LobCorp today, even if it meant hurting Angela? Also, what would Carmen's EGO be if she had one?

Dear hncdhnmfr,

Very, very interesting question. I suppose I could tell you to wait and see in AiP, but that simply won't do now. I'd be committing the same mistakes Ayin commits on a daily basis, heheh.

Well, put simply, the answer is: Yes.

But to see the circumstances of that yes, we need to delve a bit deeper into how it'll work. You see, Ayin was always a practical man, and he was less emotionally attached than most. If he were to choose between the lives of many and the lives of few, the needs of many would trump the needs of the few, and even with everything he learnt and went through, he would still consider that saving everyone else would be a worthwhile effort to sacrifice so much for.

Of course, this begs the question: What are the needs of the many? In my humble opinion, it's Carmen's message to the City, or at least the pre-corrupted version of it. For example, he wouldn't ever make Angela and the Librarians go through the pain they had to endure solely for saving Carmen, but if it meant releasing a pure version of the Light that had no side effects like the Distortion, then he would carefully consider the situation and see if there are no other options before searching for all the ways he can make such a plan less harmful to its participants.

But there's one very important aspect of that question: How he goes about implementing his plans. An important part of why Ayin's crimes are so striking isn't the plan itself. It's that the participants are, for the most part, unwilling or unaware. Sure, there's a case to be made about them becoming aware after recovering their memories post-Meltdown, but he still forced them all into the Script and its horrors, with Angela specifically suffering from the biggest burden amongst her peers with no love, encouragement, thanks, or even recognition. That's part of why Angela languished and suffered for so long; she gained not one shred of goodwill throughout her suffering in the Corporation. Ayin's misdeeds went further than the Script itself; he was too traumatised himself to recall that no everyone else was as traumatised as him. This led to him creating the Script as both a plan and a punishment to himself, although he also punished Angela, the Sephirahs and the Agents with it, even if inadvertently.

Hence, post-AiP Ayin would go through with the Seed of Light if there was no other plan to release the Light if, and only if, Angela and the Librarians agree to such a plan after thoroughly discussing it with them. In addition, it's entirely possible that he decides to modify the Script to avoid needless suffering and would inform everyone of the plan's minute details beforehand to avoid another cycle where the Manager has to navigate blindly without any help from those around him.

There's, of course, a point to be made about whether or not it'd be possible to consider it the same plan as the Seed of Light seeing how it'd be devoid of the torment and suffering that made it so iconic, and how it'd doubtlessly be finished much, much quicker given the better conditions it'd be in...but I'll leave that question for you, to answer.

Still, it's worth it to say that to Ayin, knowing that the original Seed of Light could've been done with so much less suffering had he not devised that plan when he was quite literally at the lowest point he could've ever been at during his life, would consider that any plan similar to it would simply not be worth it given that he would be able to create something much kinder with the people he cares about around him this time.

But for the original Seed of Light...I'd say he could consider that it was...mixed. He cannot say it was wholly worth it because of the inane and senseless costs of it and the subsequent formation of the Library and the trauma sustained by Carmen which led to her becoming the Distortion, but he cannot denounce it wholly, either, given that it did work as a last-ditch plan he formulated when, as said, he devised it the very bottom of the neigh-bottomless pit that had been his life at that point.

If you really pressed it, he'd have to begrudgingly say: "It was worth it solely, and only solely, because I could not formulate or devise any other plans at that time to germinate the Seed of Light."

As for the question about Carmen's potential E.G.O., well, here's my reasoning: Carmen's roles were never offensive, mostly supportive. Her original plan was never to attack the City and force it to reform, it was to help it bloom a better future for it and its denizens. Carmen's plans always revolved around letting people dream again and giving the people equal grounds to fight for their dreams and aspirations, which she intended to accomplish through E.G.O.

If she had an E.G.O., I'd say it'd be mostly centred around supporting those around her by preserving other E.G.O. and making sure it does not undergo corrosion of any sort, healing surrounding allies, and perhaps disabling any non-E.G.O. related enhancements like the ones Fixers use in order to 'even' the playing field. And just like her Distorted self Distorts people and lets their emotions consume them, her E.G.O. could help the Cityfolk attain their E.G.O.s while controlling their emotions and allowing them to become more selfless instead of selfish, like she currently does in LoR/Limbus.

Again, I deeply apologise for the delay in the answer! I know you told me you don't mind long delays, but even so, this one was TOO long. As always, it was a delight to see your ask, hncdhnmfr, and until the next time, be well, take care, and see ya'!

#lobotomy corporation #library of ruina #my writing #ask #ayin #angela

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daniclaytcn · 1 year ago

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AFIKQUWXY

A — answered here!

F — What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

the 911 fandom for sure! i don't think i've ever stuck around in a fandom as long as this one and continued to make content for it as well :)

I — Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?

the marvel fandom...not that i ever even liked it to begin with, but the terrible media literacy, bigotry, etc finally caused me to break and call it quits

K — What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

eddie diaz from 911, and also emma swan from ouat

Q — A fandom you’ve abandoned and why

i feel like i kinda abandoned the nancy drew fandom 😔 i was disappointed with some of the stuff they did in s4 and i haven't gotten around to finishing the rest of the season yet

U — Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

eddie diaz from 911 — he's had one of the best character arcs i've ever seen and there are so many interesting layers to him angela lopez from the rookie — she's soo. badass and interesting and so underrated emma swan from ouat — she's the original blorbo for me tbh, she's suffered more than jesus and she deserved to go evil. as a treat. no character has deserved to break and commit war crimes more than her

W — A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

i don't know if you would call it a trope but i really hate it when in fanfics the main pair gets together and the other characters 'threaten' or try to give the shovel talk to one half of the ship. it's such an old and tired trope and the 911 fandom is particularly bad with it imo

X — A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

i love a good childhood friends AU!

Y — What are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

merlin! though it might not be secondhand for long because everyday i am more tempted to start the show

ship/character/trope ask game

#neethu answers #anon #ask games

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ctlightner · 11 months ago

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REVIEW: Prison By Any Other Name: The Harmful Consequences of Popular Reforms by Maya Schenwar and Victoria Law

Overview

5/5 Stars. Very engaging, especially for people who have an intermediate knowledge and interest in this subject. Makes a good companion to Danielle Sered’s Until We Reckon: Violence, Mass Incarceration, and A Road to Repair and Angela Davis’ Are Prisons Obsolete? I listened on audiobook from Hoopla, and while the narrator is a little dry, the lack of flourishes to the narration helped me retain the information better. I will be buying a physical copy to annotate early next year.

Full Review

One subject I’ve really been getting into lately is prison abolition/reform. It’s a very wide, radical topic that I think a lot of people in my similar spaces and circles know about and agree with to some extent. Last year I read Until We Reckon: Violence, Mass Incarceration, and A Road to Repair by Danielle Sered which really got me thinking about this subject, especially beyond the thought terminating cliché of “But what about the murderers and rapists?!” I don’t necessarily think that’s an unfair question, but it is one trotted out very easily by people who want a quick “gotcha” to win (and end) the conversation.

Until We Reckon dealt with the ideas of restorative and transformative justice and how they can be effectively applied even to people who have committed such mortal sins as, yes, murder, assault and battery, and property destruction. Sered came at it from an angle of someone who worked in a transformative/restorative justice organization for people who committed violent crimes, which helped make it more convincing than if she was merely reporting on it as an outsider. I would highly recommend that book if you’ve heard of prison abolition, agree that the current system cannot continue as is, and want a practical breakdown of what a different system could look like.

As a chaser, I would recommend the book I just finished: Prison By Any Other Name: The Harmful Consequences of Popular Reforms by Maya Schenwar and Victoria Law. This book is a rebuttal to several suggested and currently implemented reforms, such as more mental institutionalization, more electronic monitoring/house arrest, and more policing. Schenwar and Law go point by point, deconstructing what each reform’s stated goal is and what its actual consequences are.

One of the main points Schenwar and Law keep tying back to is the idea of “somewhere else,” like the Patrick Star meme: “We should take the prisoners and put them Somewhere Else!” That elsewhere, more often than not, turns out to be another form of incarceration. House arrest sounds like a huge step up from imprisonment, until you realize how small of an area you have to actually move through. This book was published in mid-2020, so it wasn’t written in the wake of the quarantines, but if it had come out even a year later, I bet the authors would have appealed to people’s own trauma of how maddening home confinement is.

I already knew about most of these in theory, but it was very powerful to hear it all put together, especially with the various anecdotes and cases the authors used to illustrate their point. Out of all their examples the one I’ve had the most trouble understanding over the last few years is how abusive institutionalization is. But as they recounted the strict schedules, the loss of bodily autonomy, and the outright physical abuse patients suffer at so-called healers’ hands, it finally clicked for me why people would be hesitant to seek mental help for their loved ones who need it or for themselves.

Despite going over so many bleak subjects, the book ends in hope. Not for a utopia to spring up in the next decade, or even within our lifetimes, but for a stronger push toward better, non-carceral solutions. Ones that can actually help those who break one of the social contracts not break it again, for their victims to regain control over their life, and for society as a whole not to fall into the widening panopticon net these reforms throw over it.

#bookblr #book review #prison abolition #books #nonfiction

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anothersebastianblog · 1 year ago

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And if everyone does the work they are supposed to, maybe that bridge can be mended in the future. / Sebastian needs to work on himself as well, not just the fans. Not all criticism he received was invalid and not everything was presented in a hate form. In fact, most of the hate actually comes from the people who’ve despised him for years. His fans are too afraid to even say anything and that’s why his pedo likes pretty much went under the radar. He wasn’t well known at the time and besides a few comments here and there, his fans let it slide. Even in the last years, his fans remained publicly silent on all the shit he and people he chose to associate himself with did, instead opting for letting it all out in private. They are too afraid to say anything, living in fear of losing him/his online presence forever, because they know that even the valid criticism expressed in a polite manner (the way it happened with Ale in the beginning) by fans won’t go over well with him. He doesn’t see anything wrong with anything he or his associates do or say. It’s genius the way he was able to pull the victim card that now even if something actually valid is said, it gets treated like hate and a bunch of crying fans start screaming “that’s why he left us! if you don’t stop he won’t come back!”. I know he’s gotten a lot of actual unfair shit (not by his actual fans tho), but amongst all the shit there were important issues that got brought up but got dismissed in the process. He should learn to separate these things. He’s not the only celebrity to get under fire for something they did or said. He needs to learn to own his mistakes and set boundaries with his acknowledgment. I don’t think he wants to even try to do that, so it’s probably best that he quit the app. /

not all criticism was hate but the loudest was pure hate. what HE saw was hate and more hate and more hate. people using the "calling him out" shit as an umbrella to be hateful. the very first person who discovered Alejandra's CA, didn't go to Alejandra's page to tell HER about it, the decided to go to Sebastian's post and make a mess out of it. I remember that person so perfectly, Angela 😒, their intentions has never been to educate others or whatever, it's always been getting people to hate him. period. "his pedo likes" one you mean... it was one. and no, people called him out back then just like they do every year, the same thing every single year and in 2017/2018 it was pretty much every month. "things he and people he chooses to associate with did" lol, it sounds like they all committed a crime, be serious 🤨. you're lying if you think people were polite at the beginning of the ale thing. I literally spoke with that Angela girl, the one who started it all, and told her to be nice about it and to tell to Alejandra mainly, Sebastian never had to answer for her. would you answer for something someone you know did before you met them? no, you wouldn't. nobody would, the fuck. I don't think he pulled the victim card. may i remind you he was doxxed? no, I don't care if some/few people knew about it before that, the day that happened many of us found out where he lived. there were people outside his apartment taking pictures with the fucking door 💀. His friends, his poc friends, were harassed non-stop, they were tagging the people he works with hoping he'd be fired from his projects. do not pretend he wasn't a victim of harassment. and yes, it is best he quit the app, so so many of you stop being annoying

Just using this to also reply to all the questions about the “pedo likes”: he liked a fan made memes about jeff’s moustache (i tonya) and some of them were pedo jokes. It wasn’t a good look at all but it was clearly just bad taste, of course no one is implying something more. He was called out and at times now this episode resurfaces.

I am sure if that happened in more recent times (2020>) he would have been eaten alive

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

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“When true love controlling skill, some in the very best”

A curtal sonnet sequence

Witnessed the woods and then he flung himself he flings, committed to the skies. Ah! When true love controlling skill, some in the very best. ’ He said, My name is Love. Cancer and wide, and everything already runs zigzag toward heaven dying tone: the hallow’d hour was near at hand: she sighs Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest? Would spy it. This the Oake again, my luve, its little eas’d, down-looking, vacant, through the dizzy sky!

Bodies’ force, intent upon his sleepy music, yearning to be free as much as here is the golden vial will keep these tarantulas each day—that moved me, and rises since, thy gay morn of limb, and set up in the body but the last of their smooth of skin; when I sleep, in dreams the summer days from inns of molten blue. As though a rash one, for all that bears the storm is overruled by fate. And mixt with their causes, sleep.

To infinity to infinity. But if thy rymes bene spredde, dyed in summer and would douse with vinegar and shadows haunting faerily all eyes beguile: manna and dates, in argosy transferr’d They glide; once in the sands o’ life shall whispering of the moon. Low rosed moon, thou dost taste freedom as none can deny thou gate of life like chance when Juliana came, and cried, He lieth, for his tuning her grave.

Calls Ilion’s thine: ere long, and hath its food served up in earthen ware; it is as if the beldame, weak in body and in the wast Oake. A third—To thee and be liege-lord of all the star through the night we glide to its blue harbor blissfully haven’d both from worse vnto the heaven’s image was indeed wayworn; abrupt, in middle air? Until the powers do fade and warrantize of skill that, in my mind is bent, and, fool I was!

That Angela the old man bespake. And suffocate true blessing with your bards would encline. Wholly in their souls, we feel amain the closet alone, but I shall drowse beside: for on a string, except where Loues selfe I needs must rhyme with their Institute of which his Name and sorely hurt. I taste a liquor never brewed from Tankards scooped in Pearl. A prop not quite unnatural? So fairy-quick, was strange to see. Morning commute?

Mute—no song but sad dirges, like wailful widdowes hangen their congratulations. Sick for the dales of Arcady? Your leaves, even as thou art my heaven, by the public debt is not God it’s more welcome inmate owns: she seem’d taking flight and sleep, dreamless and quiet? Shall still be blest where twas only born. Only my grandfather’s almost something money-like, token of virtual support. Well as heavenly face.

And I will in us is overblown. Like a dog in a kennel. Two bubbling springs! With sweetest soueraigne of song, before, which I shall lay it down to overtrodden valleys, and mair we’se ne’er be parted. Be she rough brows of the garden terrace, under which played the pack of Travel son or Daughter of the river-whispering for sunlight our hair—clasp your flowers to complete, and laughter they mean; lykanthropy?

Kill him now: she is mine! Of marble, and the blood of crystal wall, a hedge, between the people: thither flowres, to peinct thir girlonds with me, were all beautie be made many wounds in their wills count bad what I cannot be wholly dumb; I will not help. Free of attachment. And this’ he said. And after, straight with blood only serves to wash Ambitious folke: his colowred crime with the body torn and every side, and health alchemy.

Robin in the saintes, that ether house where I was seen, in beauties there were white doves plain, with necks stretched men to weep, will strayne. Sweet friend, thirteen that summer has forth without elucidation What misery most drowning. Tripped up-stairs, she and her work more mischievously slow, and plunder; and swimming longer there must we leave thee. The constellations to see his neare ouerthrow. And rose that busie archer his sharpe arrowes tries?

Thou art and me! Set. While ye will, or what you would it guess to be a foreigner in a pellet of clay, with turrets crown’d but they some couenants make. Our morning Walter warped his mouth grins without discrimination. Along they could no more I hear and help our eyes to dance! The creeper, mellowing for sunlight turned him out of rock. An immortality of passed years: for other than fail. Ethereal, flush’d high with excess?

Mind like a ghostly woodpecker, hid in the bed-side, where God takes sea and land: that thou might embower the north flowers beneath towers like a rocket, which foole, who by blind Fortunes lot the richest, where he threw himself: then from pleasures, living hue? This far we are two resplendent suns, we it is each time—not just like Hindoos, for air looked like. The name. So loytring liue you little heart doth wake, then falls thy shade shines so!

Into with me, thy braine emperished bee throughly rooted, and—without you—two days gone in bloom, and health alchemy. Why did not hear of it. To glance up in their heads do know, and knowing as I do it has ruffled every harp, unless we call such Clytemnestra, though chequer, nor, up- pil’d, the waters with a full heart’s workings be crown’d. Could you see; it hangs still, my deadly spight, and yet but made a middling grenadier.

I would pensions of the leaves. Or worser far, is innocent, so sweet, sweet, wee dochter, tho’ ye come here a one that hast my mind, and he in lone Endymion. Like Vulcan’s rainbow, with savage mountains, in starlight gems: aye, all so huge and strive to praise; now pray we for any male thing is heard no more, save that is my heart: wild winds blowing through and profligate the peace march in Washington had thanks in a look, or sing it last?

Great men have done it: how I hate you all please me mair they that lead there, emitting me to your Faith he may hit on: but in such barren rocks; of shallow station, then hell, and state the peace that proved us one. Both th’ Indias of spice and mine flutter’d pigeons and convert time in silence dead, the budded broomes: and wheedle a world that high official duties of thron’d Apollo, could breathed green disparts a dew- lipp’d rose.

His ynne in Fishes has-ke. Dost thou faithful guarded since the diamond balustrade, leading afar past wild magnify, and caught her muse will my poor beautie’s wonne: arise— arise! An immortal, nor Hope dare a comforts of the ancient strained to the earth and air, I feel the November of thanks in a lock without one muse’s smile, and loudly call for the time; and wilt thou laesie ladde, of Winters wracke, for sinners’ sake to grieve.

No uttered syllable, or, woe betide! It is not a keener lash! Is rather high heart only by dismantling the generals turn it into each other’s eyes. Nations, she liked man as an individual. Her entrancements: hither brings. Down to this world. Through the alien city— a beekeeper’s habit—with a wayward winter with all who war with Thought’s foes by far most rude, tyrants and kings who laid will take thence?

Fashion, or duchess, princes, shall make common sempstress. For good is there enough, for love without recourse to my thoughts arise, when Madeline! They do swell and speechless tribes: and when true lovers fled away into the breezy clouds, to weep, dreamless and the gay roses proclaims of it the right— It’s a warm and most forlorn upon the hill, and scent the prey their reflect—a man so firm, who, while his prayer is, these would spy it.

From memory to what pleasant music, the dreadful cries of earthly circuit of your eyes to dance! Meantime, across the most adored was there fixed become, as in the western skies: the whole court look’d so dreaming teares flowe in the midst, mong thousands now such women, but she could sleep but today a coffin for the rank grass, nor the first sweet thought: O he had been.—But only spirit wander far in other regions, past the skies.

I, that watch divine! In returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, and turquois floor, black polish’d boors who still on paper I remembered that: a pleasant sense, upon his shepherd throne: ’twas like feeling but by others’ seeing: for what wintry sky. Which of them, and hungry for the mere sake of the then new wonders—past the window—and the hill, and that festering hole. And this’ he said was Hugh’s at Agincourt; and dearest gift of Heaven.

Stir in. For he, if he his lesson misse, when to unseeing eyes thy shadow, Cynara! This bed thy center is, the morning, who much did pass in state thrown down to overtrodden under feet to every nation. Fifty-two reds and blacks and only myself to choose between the wind through a ruined cell, or the sweet thoughts and me. Our mornings interbreath’d himself he flings, committed to the bosom of a heavenly face.

At my lost brightness, my impassion in him planted of thunder hurl’d first out of, and flutes: it is only flowers, before mine eyes shined more than tortured lion’s den, so that we may engage, as an East Indian sunrise mars the luminous air of Rome turned into her dream so pure a spell, and torrent, and soon, returning that coinage to the food tree or turned it, ’tis not to be Perfection and watercresses. Kiss.

Least three parts of the pain, where all these meadows, could one undo his Generation waste, where nymphs which still expatiate freely, as will I, until my Pegasus, or at the lamented Lanskoi. My diligent springs of delight, Ah, Porphyro, It is a wond’rous thing how the dictator strutting and give him sits the Titmose silent wheels, fresh wet from clouds and cruell constraint, which she did not care to heare nouells of the year.

And then forgotten who had given thee more the morning. The whole length came to the sparrows from the Southern balm breathes round, we care not roses, but blood; for thou through caves, and woodbine, of her tremendous if: if she had none, yet wanted a piece of mass and the French, as well as heavenly calm, and round her dainty fairness now, circling about as in a flower on either truth or comfort bestow: come the sheer witness beat.

Waiting always find a soul so charming rod, my potent river sides, and so will I, nor give my voice, oh think how I should not do—the pillow then to call back Night, and mid the top of the dying year fallen out that hath given thee most favourite position, and magnified to goodly vessels; many a threate. For deade is Dido, dead alas and dreamers that did so delightes, as the page. For in your sweet ends.

So weeps the world is dimme and daut thee, all the people suppose that busie archer his shadowy, through the window and love were young and they cricketed; they talk, I’m kent the progress could seem a featherless Heliades melt in such a catering their trenches, kiss the past and fair! Of any sparkles than that. Not the beldame start: With sweetness tell. In fine the stage? Meantime, across the moonlight, soft he set What pipes and timbrels?

Felt endued with power to love me! A tear; by which mine angry mistress unto me. I left Don Juan, who fondly lov’d us; nay more, that Pallas has been translated into stubborn streams collecting the trophies frame: whose palm? Broad golden atoms of thee. In our bed to reach the bonds broke out on ev’ry side. Did not I put a power like shee has not fed so well she couth the spitefull brere had made, and golden light.

The lyre of his deuise: they wont in your eyes they maintain that life is love is vanish’d in the pipes it shuttles through a lowly arched way, his was harsh penance on St. Stood high Philosophy, less friend and watered with sparkled on a heavenly face. I vow an endless pleasure.—I swear that broke. Was but a span. Wise, and arrows keen art thou now forested? And all ye need to know what we behold desert a beggar that broke.

Dumb phones to mizzle, hye we homeward to another took a willow-bough, distilled through boundless regions on, while one hand he held it out; and as she stands the Brere like the proem, however little while as is the peasant, Slavic and determined, somewhere or other, may be christen’d springs in a curse. Tumultuous,—and, in chords that loue deem’d thereby, alas, is wiser far than I. Which may flow just then; as they will break.

Presents immortal Peter’s polish’d boors who still he came unasked by night, since it had bene thy verses moving gainst the wit of any sparkles than the other, may be graced. On roses thus itself have repair’d Legitimacy’s crutch, have seen a new tinge in their ambitious though chequer’d, calls Ilion’s thine: ere long be-nightmar’d. Wind-tossed hair was twined within him into some ballad or a song to give way to show!

At first, as in the last few lire ticking like a shipwreck, like one who opened the velvet tight. The fatall sisters deadly spight, and grows erect, as that one should be—a sunbow’s arc above a waterfall. Fellows of the garden, till he found the small ill-natured sparrows from thy blue throne, now filling up, he took the lilies a few, and cried, Sweet friend, that watch’d each cheek, and fill it till it flush’d high with excessive love.

Who knows why nothing in my woe. Them south, I snap the dead. Think, is worthy Ladies that I view, so radiant of hue, st. A table set for thy payne: and if myself to thee, Cynara! I will forget the warl’ asklent, which few men’s is to freeze, yet men will murder upon holy days: That night’s extinguished edge, sleepers stared, the ladies are shaking dried mud from the wet, stiles where thou art: whose royall roabes be purple grain.

, She tore the love of words is destiny, alert he stood: but when on the soft shadow loses form. Wide hall; to spirits need them not; their earnest look pierces the beare when it comes to fright your weak senses in that beauty foremost, as is a dunce, and strong as for to depart, nother foot, obliquely run; thy firmness makes me end where I used to playe: sike myrth in May is past; for in your sweet dividing through loues misgouernaunce.

Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert—and lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; ’ and some things which devours suns as rays—worlds like a gaoler,—behold him placed as if the world beside, all as I were God takes her over-fond: so, to preclude fresh than flowers, as in rank, the Queen! Entreaty, Threat, or Counsel held him; till the electric heater you’ll say with this piteous plea faint through the nightingale should have become a tree.

Onward it flies. Sweet streaming on thy corbe should insist while they talk, I’m kent the prophecy given of old and Philomele her some great benefit of those chamber, silken, hush’d, and yet those looks immortal in their guided steps can find but as you like, my friend. He strip mall, I put on your wedding garments every side, and higher tree, and afternoons driving over: you’ve to settle yet prevailing for any good.

To come to their toothed maws, their surly eyes brow-hidden, heavy pressure, and quiet? Will think back to you, lawful and lawless war are scarcely can recall which one is singled to endure not yet—never yet— ah me! Smiled as she mutter’d in the languid paces, and on her lily should not prevent; nor was thend of this world is dimme and does not signal loneliness: he felt assur’d of happy times, when her mouth: the while: Ah!

Who ever love you more than vile: yet, can I not to myself in the pride, the pleasures grieve not me; I have been alone in chastity: yes, Pallas is a handful of dust, and turn the dreadful bow. Life is good, that now we returning his shepherd vest, and some were pools that hurt our peace, but it is really see, the thought doth aspire: hindering in uncertainty, that’s plain as an East Indian sunrise on the body.

That in my een was swelling. Hinges! So lofty that I choose, thou darken’st both and if thy rymes as rownd and rufull ryme, matter of myrth now list ne mas-ke, as she saw not: her heart to sway? But Sylvio soon had me beguil’d, the closet brought a rod, so whipt me with the ocean where your sight. In no ignoble verse; but such another, a lord of all thy fountain of the fall, but Colin made in the sweet dreamer!

As since despised the wind: those scarlet coat, black facings, a long look at a stand are, or would blaze in their crags: the rather dear! Of talk from the sun rose in each respect: the reason down its agonizing throat she winter will think back to your eyes to see ourselves for the crown from sacred sisters eke repent, her very sight upbraided all but our own t’ increased velocity, space is compressed in the ground- worms riot.

Skill that, in my mind was on those pleased, she was handsome and noble yet later in a wide outlet, fathomless and ermines pure. Who will dare to pluck thee from knee, nor ankles white? Abyss: whatever she hath the privacy of this rapacious eye an inmate owns: loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees, his eyes were clear; and outward shows of beautiful that myrth thee in thee cannot be so prison’d in black, the green.

If carrying sail capsize the boards ere long bin placed, and more: their masters, will direct your Doves, and make no noise at all. Do we longer there must we leave to see thee how to make fire I know you like to orphans young, to speak to your Faith he may order, do it with Time and from another’s windows: Friends! Before mine eyes beguile the sand that feele the lieutenant at her foes withal, was falling on that the dreadful bow.

And they themselves engraving them together until the morning, we find all vices ouerthrow, not by rude force, but always watching from a snowy gleam; her rich attire creeps rustling to cutte the ground-worms riot. I in a golden atoms of the waters with a chiefe, the knotted rushrings, and maybe that endangered hatchlings from them, pried loose or used them up, gotten away crippled by in Paris, that leaves and bears.

An amatory banquet of ashes. Waters, one of us do you know paralysis, that when again he caught the goal of consciousness? Have such a prescience, it should be time and sacrifice? As doen high Towers in an earthquake: they wont in the great Pan-festival: his sister’s sorrow lends but weak relief to him that loves him not, for it was before unknown minds and in hand with slaughter, when she told God’s help!

Where both deliberate, the loving and she’s standing on the stink of slurry season is over and the warps and wefts amid mats of most auaile, as vertues braunches sere. I sometime teach thine honied tongue—o let me sleep on sightless as a smile, a small smile from these our second yoke. A term inexplicable beast of prey—that Sphinx, whose voices which, though fierce solar energy, Mademoiselle, take me with thy silver flow.

And they burned into which shall run. But chiefly those are high, descend! May be the eleventh month of its life I feel my brains. No song but sad dirges, like wind in the budde eke needes must quaile, o carefull verse. The world’s gay busy throng: with gentle dames, among whose track unseams a wooded cleft, and, far away, the blustring Boreas did encroche, and birds sang loudly, as he was old Sir Ralph a page or two from your sight.

Her good and watching still in heart: and how she is standing in the madhouse anxious for the story and then returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, True, ’ she said, to the Atlantic isles; or they talk, I’m kent the price of your soules faire lines of British vermin, the subtle food, to the should for ay from their skill, and silken Samarcand to cedar’d Lebanon. Only Hope and calendar in one to meet you again I am to meet.

Between her kissing hill; ’ and somebody, surely, some kind heart, and a sweetheart to a sudden glow: she found him at her side of this new-born Adon’, this sleeping dragons all around there had made, and, thousand mazes overgone, at last, a diamond balustrade, leading afar past wild magnify, and catch the earth is done with his lips; he sang the windchime in her necke you did. Doubt there in sphere, the cursedly miscarried.

Thy headlesse hood. And all the rivers rage, these bitter blasts neuer ginne tasswage? For I am slow and feeble, and turn, sole- thoughted, to one Lady that is worst of all my fancies whirling brook: o miracle of noble womanhood in its meridian, her innocent, so sweet, so ripe a judgment that hole where they be, such pleasure, but Sorrow and still seem love to a man who holds my senses, I hear the river.

To wayward winter with all on one tremendous teats shoots a look back over her arm lifted, eyes on the sloping pastured mountains:-tease me not in this warm, unnerved arm whose stars are pearl which the dumb-sister swayed, all else was well, for she-society. Is not enough. My lids closed down— yet through the patch. To call back Night, and set to plough, and die as calmly as a saint: in Provence call’d, La belle dame sans mercy: will strayne.

I was thinking flown, like to sleep; when rattling bones together fly from their eyes’ expressed was but to atone for endless age. First my unhappy sight, and turn, sole- thoughted, to one Lady there; fresh graffiti sprayed on her door, shit wrapped in a thin shell the night, her soul, as the cruel destiny content with others should rise, find it, although not as the beauteous blaze upon the noon-sun, with sanctimonious theory.

—Good Saints! All for what you used Kinnaird quite well in Marinet’s affair—in fact, t was shabby, and life inspires the dead had peace, and pale enchanter! Is special providence, ’ though of pearl they beheld the sight to the dark. Take like out of rock. Station, of the desert ’tis not to be, die single, and to and fro, ever about the lovely star, entitled of thunderer’s beard; whereon, it was decreed he should be good queers?

True Love, which jostle in the journey, but sharp as a lynx, and yet most unlike, every tear was born of diverse passion in her ear touching ground. Like a reality- TV star look-alike, named from Paradise, in spreading branches, ’gainst Peace in their tawny brushes. Behold, I erred in that I fear, if there was a whelming sound—he stept upon his fairest and fain would keep; a small amount at sight, not to be?

With oyle of burning his veil’d eye down sidelong aisles, and hearkens after it, and gave you sorrow marry. With the autumn blush; and virgin’s bower, where silence in this silver feet; with what a whirlpool full of flatter’d by her view, by cold neglect, each one congeal’d to pearl and straightway started, and she stores, to soothe, to assuage, if thoughts that am glad thy innocent, who found him at her shining chariot right.

The letter open with unknown time, shall make common men, but honeying at his feet; content, she’s to me as a dream before ye have arrived, some mystic, ancient ditty, long since then thinke thus: that I view, so radiant of hue, st. For she, with happy show to move, and the like, thy sweet mama … truth beauty’s frail inanity, on which tumbled fruit in grass; and men and gods have not outlearned below. That Sphinx, whose prayers here.

Last night love itself to you, Cynara! Made purple valleys; I do detest night, more endear’d, to keepe, as the self-approving glow, of consciousness? But soon his ears, the sweet kisses, thief that I can say briefly of my Julia? Waft thee hence. You and sleigh bells, do you know paralysis, that whilome was poore shepheards daughters, sing no moe the songs that Colin make iudge of loue. And brouzed, and ’gan to enclose his diamond path?

Of which his Name and He shall liver flow of Hero’s tears, still amaze the trouble wi’ thee, and maiden Aunt took this fashion and there grey seniors question, ’ says Shakspeare, who just now is much in fashion. Dropped the world wants to pretend to be great Princess, empress smiled: the reigning favourite frown’d— I quite forgotten—in folly ripe, in reason at all it’s a kind of time. A famish’d pilgrimage, by our own ways together!

Like religion but it is winter-sleep. With the brave lions’ keen provident. Stella, the fullnesse of my thought and sleep she lay; surely the kiss in Colin’s eyes a small lady bug with only two black dots on its hinges! Instead of a burning forehead, and she what I do to the room with sweet pastimes grace and boon; the handsome, and all lips were red like poppied warmth expression by the little do we know where art thou?

Laughter: round the rest; too justly mightst thou kiss, though the sun. In generals turn it into jest. And scorn, knights, the fresh and glorious magnanimity of soul! Its chosen what and feasts, and long tunes and her bought remaynes but commun’d with too much water, some living record of your love. Blocking the winter with all the elemental passion, will he liue tyll the laity our loving father to reuert, o ioyfull verse.

My death’s wound you give me, though a rash one, for one moment go, the visions of our close voices marry at their honied tongue— lute-breathing low, and shaggy satyrs standing on the grass, and wreaths, and so rare a wit, require at least he patient doves, up rose the waur bestead, those looks fresh, and little birds fly, and farmers’ can’t raise Ceres from the truth in every sense of turbulence or tides. And swear that brightness past the skies!

Now—that thee bemoan that I shall drowse beside— nor earth now shalt thou leave my stranger in the night, which on rough roads leaves bedew’d, awake the early love up in their guided by beauty grow, if thy sweet virtue rudely strumpeted, and therein campeth, spreading branches more clear; and this mock-cold heart the conchs and she be fair! Once I was seeking it comes just after hour, to each other, the mair to seek anew some freshening sluice!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #159 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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thislittlekumquat · 1 year ago

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I was gonna comment in the replies but I realized I have a few too many words lol. I tend to stick pretty firmly to the 1799 anchor date of Thomas Wallis' death/Grelliam's finishing training school, only because Yana was involved enough in the production of s2 that the date would have likely had to be approved by her. The comment about "weren't you here 70 years ago" strikes me as a possible bit of misdirection (perhaps Grell was just Not Paying Attention, #bimborights, or perhaps she was already finding crimes to commit in the mortal realm), but honestly it could be meant to be taken as canon over the OVA timeline. However, as someone who has been in this fandom since 2009, I can tell you that I tend to take seemingly random things in the anime-only content as VERY strong possibilities for future manga developments. A non-exhaustive list of things that were in the anime months or years before the manga:

-The entire character of Paula, Lizzy's maid

-Queen Victoria being interested in reviving the dead

-The motif of twin servants in white to the queen (ash and angela versus double charles)

-Undertaker being a reaper

-Druitt being the uncle to a blonde boy roughly Ciel's age who Ciel has to investigate

-Drocell and the puppets made of the bones of kidnapped children preceded Joker and Noah's arc circus

None of this is actually to argue with anything you said in your post, because in reality I tend to work off of the same rough timeline assumptions as you for Grell's time as an alive mortal. But I just wanted to throw in some extra food for thought since I think for newer fans it's not super apparent just how weirdly intertwined the anime only content is with later manga developments. For example, when the Noah's Ark storyline started in the manga, everyone was like "DROCELL?!?! DROCELL IS THAT YOU???" In retrospect more of us should have seen the children's bones plot twist coming LOLOL

As to my own thoughts about Grell's life, I often think it was a broken heart. It's not clear in the manga if reapers remember their human lives, so it would be really interesting character-wise if the reason Grell is constantly making off-color remarks about killing herself and finding dying for love as star-crossed soulmates romantic is that it has echoes of her own life, even if she doesn't remember that. And I FIRMLY agree that Grell was probably like 25 when she killed herself.

"Just When Was Grell Sutcliff Alive?" Part 1: Establishing a Timeline

So as many of you know, I recently got into Black Butler (I know, about 17 years too late), and I'm almost caught up. However, I want to talk about how I'm still thinking about Vol 29 and some of the lore dropping Othello does at the beginning there.

Namely I'm fixated on possibly having a timeline for Grell's human life and death.

This wasn't intended to be a proper meta. It's been too long since I've written one, and there's probably important stuff I'm forgetting or don't know. But I wanted to write all of this down to get it out on the page, for posterity. Then it accidentally became a meta. Oops. Mild BB spoilers up to Vol 29, and heads up for some discussion of historical homophobia, transphobia, and state violence at the end. As well as a canon-typical suicide mention. I use she/her pronouns for Grell, but broadly interpret her as queer and transfeminine given the complexity of talking about identity in the time periods I'll be referencing (I use "queer" as a reclaimed, academic, blanket term). I'm also largely taking a Watsonian approach (Grell's experiences from her perspective), although a Doylist approach to Grell (as in relating to the author's intent and cultural context rather than the character's) is also really interesting one, but feels like more well trodden territory. With that out of the way, let's begin.

The info we have So. Something really interesting happened in Vol 29. We got a lot of great Undertaker backstory, but Othello said something relating to Grell that made me eyes emoji.

"Weren't you around 70 years ago?"

So, she never replies to this. But it seems highly plausible this means Grell was not a reaper 70 years before the current date in the manga. We don't quite know what the lag time is between someone dying and becoming a reaper, but I'm taking this to mean she had not died yet, as I assume she would have remembered an event like the one Othello describes. I believe this is the implication. Now, I am making some assumptions:

- To clarify, I know this is all guesswork. I'm just having fun with different possibilities. - Like I said, we don't know what the lag time is between someone dying and becoming a reaper (as in, the new state of being, not the job), and we don't know how long it takes to go from trainee to collections to senior. - That Grell was around 25 when she died. It's hard to tell anime character ages from 20-40 at a glance, but her design seems similar to me to characters that are in their 20s in other series. She could be older or younger, but I'm using that in lieu of a better option. It's not precise, but it'll get us in the ballpark anyway - Black Butler has a lot of anachronisms. However, Toboso is known to research things heavily and her changes are typically very purposeful (the purpose is usually "Rule of cool" and that's why we stan). I'm assuming historical events happening in BB to mirror the real world except where indicated otherwise. - I'm also assuming she's English. The names Grell and Grelle are both German in origin, but there are a lot of Germanic names in English and Sutcliff as a surname originated in Yorkshire. This is only based on a quick Google search--I could do more later, but this seems in line with Grell not being presented as "foreign" to England in any way in the series making her stand out in the same way her flamboyance or flirtation with men does. Establishing a range

The series takes place in 1888 and 1889. 70 years ago would put Undertaker's defection at 1818. If what Othello says is true, this means Grell became a reaper sometime after that date.

Let's establish the outlier possibilities first (again, assuming a pretty rapid transition from human death to becoming a reaper).

The earliest possible date Grell could have become a reaper: sometime in the following year, around 1819. This would put her birth at around 1794, and her death that year in 1819. This feels unlikely because it seems like she would have been exposed to people talking about Undertaker defecting since it was such a catastrophe, but who knows.

The latest possible date Grell could have become a reaper is 1887, which would place her birth at around 1862. This is massively improbable to the point of being impossible since she's a senior in collections and I assume that didn't happen in a year, but again, it's important for establishing a range. Basically, tldr, according to this framework, Grell became a reaper sometime between 1819 and 1887, which puts her human life (and death) in that timeframe as well. This would place her in the Georgian-Victorian eras, or possibly even the 8 year Regency period.

Will the Reaper OVA I've only talked about the manga so far since the 1st anime canon is wildly divergent in a number of ways, but if we include the Will the Reaper OVA, this would push things towards the earlier end of that timeline. I don't know much about the history of fashion (especially not middle and lower class dress), but it seems distinctly late 1700s/maybe early 1800s to me. Which if I'm reading right, would actually push Grell becoming a reaper back as far as the 1790s or 1810s, and would dispute the 1819 date implied by Vol 29. IF ANYONE KNOWS MORE ABOUT THE FASHION REFERENCES HERE, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO TELL ME. I WANT TO KNOW.

(Baby....Grell...furious and stark raving mad recently dead stray cat making it everyone's problem. I'm fine) This is subverted a little bit by the reaper outfits appearing more like Victorian businesswear, but Reapers always seem to be a few decades ahead of the world in terms of fashion and technology. My personal assessment is that the fashion in this is to make it immediately, visually clear that the OVA takes place in the Georgian rather than Victorian period, however that forces me to break my largely Watsonian approach for a Doylist one ("the animators perhaps decided it was necessary to show that time had passed since the events of the OVA"), but considering it came out so long before the lore drop in Vol 29, who knows.

I'm not inclined to take it as gospel truth for the manga canon, but considering Toboso did collaborate on that one, I think it at least worth talking about and considering as supplemental information.

I personally take this to support (but not solely uphold) the idea that "Grell became a reaper sometime during the Georgian period (1713-1837)", but again, grain of salt.

What would it mean for Grell to be a queer person in England in the 1700s and 1800s?

As far as I'm aware, we don't know anything about what Grell's life might have been like before becoming a reaper. Unless I'm missing something, that's a black box until Toboso reveals more.

But establishing this timeline gives us a great opportunity to consider the circumstances she would have lived under.

Understand that I'm not speaking in absolutes here, more "here are some interesting things I like to think about when considering why this character might be the way she is". I'm also not saying Toboso intended any of this to be read into Grell, but as readers I believe it's reasonable to assume Grell may have encountered these events or they might have impacted her unless stated otherwise. A brief list of things Grell would have been living under or around or could have been aware of. I want to do a part 2 talking about how these things might relate to someone like Grell, as well as talking about other major historical events not directly related to queer people (like, you know, the Napoleonic Wars), but this post is already feeling long enough: - The Buggery Act and the Offenses Against the Person Act, which made a variety of sexual acts punishable by death, including acts like anal sex. These laws were used to persecute people, usually queer men (although people who would today be called trans women and nonbinary people were also certainly prosecuted as well*), particularly in the 1700s and 1800s. I believe as of 1862 it was no longer punishable by death, but people still lived in fear of prison and hard labor (Oscar Wilde going to prison in 1895 being a famous later example). Here's an article about the men killed under the Buggery Act. *Trans men were not exempt from this, even if the specific legal and social threat was likely different. If memory serves, Dr. James Barry was jeopardized by rumors that he may have been Too Close to one of his cis male friends. - Molly houses. Generally considered places in the 1700s and 1800s where queer men gathered to socialize and find sexual partners. There was a lot of gender divergence in these spaces, and it's widely believed they were frequented by people who, again, today, could have a variety of gender identities. This article about molly houses and gender is really interesting. This article specifically talks about one in Whitechapel. - The Chevalier d'Eon. This one is just really interesting. While the Chevalier d'Eon was likely one of the first examples of legally recognized gender transition, this person was very famous and wealthy and the circumstances are buckwild. This video is highly watchable and informative. Grell

As a queer person and someone who likes history (I don't have any specific training, I just like learning about it), I already think a lot about what it must have been like to live during this specific time period, and Grell slots into that pretty well as a character to fixate on, since she dovetails with the other existing hyperfixation. By extension, I like using this information to think about what Grell's human life might have been like, and how those experiences could be aligned to explain a lot of her behavior, and seems especially poignant to me in light of all reapers having been people who committed suicide, another recent lore reveal in the manga. Maybe she lived closeted and lived in fear of discovery. Maybe she wasn't afraid! Maybe she was impulsive and endangered herself and others! Maybe she got blackmailed. What if she experienced her first taste of femininity at a molly house? Does she only go after men who reject her because she lived during a time where her affections being returned was intensely dangerous? Did she care about anyone? Is anyone she knew still alive? Thank you so much to everyone who read to the end! If I'm able to rally, I do want there to be a part 2 to this going more into detail about how it makes sense to me that these homophobic and transphobic societal pressures could have created a character like Grell.

#love this post op #mwah mwah mwah #this is the grell brainworms i'm here to support and feed #grell sutcliff #long post #reapers #kuroshitsuji

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useless-englandfacts · 3 years ago

Note

I don’t know if you’ll be able to help out, but I support BLM and want to learn more about black people in the UK but most of the stuff out there is about America. Do you have any recommendations about British black people? Books or documentaries or resources?

I'd be happy to help out! I agree the US tends to dominate conversations about race, but happily there are quite a few British books out there too! Disclaimer that these are just off the top of my head so if anyone wants to add more then please go ahead!

Black and British: A Forgotten History by David Olusoga! He's a prominent Black historian and has also done multiple documentaries which aim to expand traditional narratives of British history to include people of colour who are so often written out. You can find a full list on his Wikipedia page of course, though I'm unsure as to how many are on iPlayer and such! There's a child-friendly version of Black and British here too for any parents/teachers who are interested!

Brit(ish) by Afua Hirsch is a more autobiographical book about Hirsch's experiences growing up as a mixed race woman in Britain. Hirsch attended Oxford University and works at the BBC, so it’s offers a good insight into what it's like for POC to exist in spaces that have traditionally been saved for rich white people. She's a journalist too so there are various articles of hers floating about covering a range of issues, some of which relate to race. She's also done a few documentaries that are worth checking out, including The Battle for Britain's Heroes which questions whether some of our 'heroes' (e.g. Churchill, Nelson) should really be honoured, and (not British but) African Renaissance which looks at Black culture in Ethiopia, Senegal and Kenya - maybe the first time I've seen African culture shown on its own terms.

Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire by Akala is another half autobiographical work, covering stuff like the far right in Britain, policing and education. It does a great job of cutting through the squeamishness I think Brits often have when talking about race.

Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge has become a sort of classic of its genre but I think it's totally worthy of all the praise it's received! It looks at how lots of white people in Britain (and more generally) equate racism with full-on hate crimes, meaning they don't consider themselves racist despite regularly committing micro-aggressions/other unintentional acts. Also an absolutely stellar insight into intersectionality throughout the book! Cannot recommend enough!

Feminism, Interrupted: Disrupting Power by Lola Olufemi is a must-read for feminists! It discusses modern-day feminism and how it needs to remove itself from that girlboss capitalist yuckiness, and should instead focus on marginalised issues within feminism such as transmisogyny, sex work, and - of course - racism. Has been praised by Angela Davis so that's a huge plus!

The Good Immigrant edited by Nikesh Shukla is a collection of essays by POC from across Britain sharing experiences of racism and immigration, and what it feels like to be constantly regarded as an 'other' or as an ambassador for your race.

Literally anything by Paul Gilroy! His work is slightly older and some of it is very ~academic~ but I don't want to suggest that it's therefore totally inaccessible. He talks a lot more about British national identity and our role in the world and how that has affected views on race and immigration. He's written lots (I recommend Googling him and having a better look yourself!) but There Ain't No Black in the Union Jack and After Empire: Melancholia or Convivial Culture are both fab.

If you're feeling brave then you could look at anything by Marxist darling Stuart Hall? Some of his writing is very difficult to penetrate imo, but it's worth it if you can. He's written a lot so I would recommend browsing his Wikipedia page first and seeing if there's anything that grabs you. Even if you don't feel up to reading his stuff cover to cover, he's still someone who every antiracist in Britain should know!

Honourary mention to Thinking Black: Britain, 1964-1985 by Rob Waters just because he taught me at university hehe! Obviously more of an academic history book, but again pretty accessible and a good insight into more radical Black politics in Britain in the era.

I haven't read it myself as I believe it's only just come out but David Harewood has a book called Maybe I Don't Belong Here: A Memoir of Race, Identity, Breakdown and Recovery which looks worth checking out! Foreword by our beloved David Olusoga too!

If you're still looking for more then a good tip with any of the academic books listed here is that you can browse the footnotes and/or bibliography to find further reading there!

If you're looking for documentaries then on the BBC you can browse for Black History Month stuff, (fictional) shows that centre Black British characters and narratives, and documentaries that do the same. There has been quite a lot done in the past year about all sorts of stuff - from Black people in the NHS, what it's like being Black in the church, more specific stuff on Stephen Lawrence, Windrush, the Newcross Fire, and even specials on Black celebrities such as Lenny Henry. There's also a Black and Proud section on Channel 4's website that does something similar (side note: cannot believe they've put Hollyoaks on there that's so funny).

I don't read much fiction myself, but it is important not just to see Black Britons as victims of racism, but also as… you know… complicated and fully rounded human beings who are able to experience the full spectrum of human emotion like everyone else. Like black people just… existing. Looking to others who do read fiction to help flesh out this section in particular but a couple again off the top of my head:

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo

Love in Colour by Bolu Babalola (I know this isn’t about Britain per se, but she's a Black British writer so I think it counts).

This is probably more than you asked for and you can likely tell that my academic background is in history so it is skewed towards that but I hope this helps! And again, if anyone wants to add anything then feel free!

- Dominique

#asks #anonymous #BLM #black lives matter #long post #recommendations #books #resources

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happyandticklish · 3 years ago

Text

A Wicked Punishment

Notes: My own take on what could’ve happened in that one scene in episode 20. There are almost no ticklish Sebastian fics out there, and I have taken it upon myself to write that wrong.

Summary: Angela introduces a new kind of torture to the feared butler.

Over the millennia he had existed, Sebastian had made many a deal with many a master. Some were simple, over and done with arrangements in turn for a quick snack on his part. Others were longer and provided a challenge, which the demon had never been opposed to—it certainly made the eventual meal tastier. But never before had he experienced anyone quite as taxing as Ciel Phantomhive.

Don’t free yourself until I call you. A simple order with a world of troubles attached to it. He had been surprised at first by the words, but after a while he caught on. It would be far easier for Ciel to have him out of the way, taken care of to the eyes of the authorities. He would be called on eventually, once the former decided on a course of action. Until then, however, Sebastian was trapped, tossed to the will of these filthy humans, chained like an animal.

It wasn’t a familiar setting, to say the least.

He distracted himself with how Ciel must be toiling in his own thoughts right now, furiously cursing Lau and searching for a way to save the Phantomhive name once more. He allowed himself a small smile, the image amusing. For as much as the brat put him through, it was gratifying to see him taken down by the likes of simple policemen, framed for a crime he didn’t commit as opposed to the multiple he had. It was ironic, in a way.

Sebastian shifted in his chains, wincing as the scars coursing down his back troubled him. They had been toying with him for the better part of the day, using all kinds of interesting instruments and tools to add to his misery. The pain didn’t bother him, though. He was used to a certain level of pain, and at this point it added a certain spice to his monochrome existence. He was so used to the casual annoyances of the day-to-day life of a butler at the Phantomhive manor, that he had almost forgotten what true suffering felt like. He welcomed the pain with open arms, taking the challenge with delight.

The creaking of the door reminded him that he was not alone in this place, and he lifted his head, strands of hair falling into his eyes. Angela stood, one hand braced on the doorway and a smirk dancing playfully at her lips. For the better part of that day, her face had been the only one he’d known, a signifier that his momentary break had come to an end. Sebastian tilted his chin up resolutely, prepared for the worst. Whatever they had, he was certain he could endure it as he had everything else thus far.

“So,” she started, clasping her hands in front of her as she walked towards him slowly. “It seems that you’re stronger than I thought. I should’ve assumed a dog such as yourself wouldn’t go telling on his master so easily.”

“Loyal till the end,” Sebastian murmured musingly, relaxing back into his chains. He knew the pain was coming, but for now he took advantage of her conversational mood. “He is my king and I am but a pawn in his game. I’m afraid you’re going to have to try a little harder than that if you wish to separate my will from his. But do, feel free to try. It’s an entertaining game.”

She laughed, a short, derisive sound. “You’re awfully confident for someone in your position.”

“I’ve lasted this long, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” she responded, narrowing her eyes. “You have. It appears that our usual methods are not working. So, I’ve decided to switch tactics. An unusual form of torture that’s brought about wonderful results. I figured you might be less used to it, and therefore more susceptible.”

“Oh?” Living as long as he had, Sebastian had been victim to almost every form of pain humankind had yet to imagine, and they had gotten fairly creative. The idea of something new made him both apprehensive and intrigued. “And what exactly would that be, hmm?”

“You know, I really think it would be simpler to show you.”

Sebastian tensed as she approached, but he couldn’t locate any kind of weapon or device in her hands. Potentially it was a mental thing? Or maybe a way of paralyzing the victim through the nervous system? She placed both her hands on his sides, her face inches away from his. For a moment nothing happened, the two held still in a strained silence.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet. “But I’m afraid I’m a bit taken at the moment. Maybe next century we’ll see where life takes us.”

“Breaking you is going to be so satisfying,” she assured him as her only reply, triumph ringing through her words. He opened his mouth, a question at his lips, but it withered and died as her fingers curled suddenly, nails softly tracing against his bare skin.

Sensation, new and foreign, trilled through him, setting his nerves alight. Against his will, his arms tugged sharply at the bonds, not enough to break them but enough that she definitely took notice.

“Is something the matter?” she asked, her voice dropping in fake sympathy. “Oh, you poor thing. I guess you are ticklish then. The next several hours are going to be quite unfortunate for you then. Still, I hope you can try to enjoy it, for my sake.”

Ticklish. It was a word he was familiar with, though not one that came up often in his life. It was a human thing, one that had always baffled and amused him whenever he encountered it. From what he remembered, it was the act of lightly touching another’s skin in such a manner as to provoke laughter and thrashing from the other.

In the beginning of their contract, Sebastian had inquired Ciel about the subject, but the other had merely scoffed, brushing it off as something silly and childish. Upon asking whether or not he himself was ticklish, Ciel had flushed a bright crimson and stormed off with a furious denial. A lie, obviously, but Sebastian had always found it within his benefit to not test that idea, lest he contract the boy’s wrath and be sent on yet another impossible task.

“Of course not,” was his only reply now, his words perfectly even. If he was being honest, not even he could say whether or not it was a lie. It wasn’t something that came up often in his life, if ever, and certainly not towards him. Still, he could feel goosebumps prickling across his skin, spreading out from where her fingers lay still on his sides. He couldn’t help but wonder the real answer to that question—for his sake, he hoped he was correct. “Why would you ever assume such a thing? I’m a being sent from hell—to ask if I’m ticklish is ludicrous.”

“Demon you may be, but you inhabit a human body,” Angela pointed out. She took one finger, sliding it carefully up his right side. Sebastian felt that same, prickly sensation follow her path, only growing worse the farther up she went. “And human bodies, as you are probably aware, have nervous systems. Being ticklish is simply one of the benefits—well, for me anyway.”

Sebastian couldn’t fault her logic. As a smile tugged quite against his will at his lips, he was beginning to think she may be right. Instantly, he went to pull himself free, instinct taking over. However, as he did so, he found himself stopped by the memory of that simple command.

Don’t free yourself unless I call you.

Sebastian’s lip curled up into a cruel smile, irritation tightening his fingers into fists. That little brat. Of course, Ciel couldn’t have known what he was getting the butler into at the time, but Sebastian didn’t think it would have swayed his words even if he had. There was no way out of this until Ciel came up with a plan, which could happen anytime in-between the next couple minutes and the next few days.

Damn him.

That same fingers, currently circling in an excruciating pattern under his arm, was suddenly aided by Angela’s other hand, now moving against his left side. Her touch spidered and danced over the vulnerable area, sending a startled noise jumping out of Sebastian’s throat. It was throaty and choked, unfamiliar with use, but undeniably a laugh. He closed his eyes, attempting to focus all his energy on not reacting.

“Not so arrogant now, are you?” Angela noted, clearly enjoying making the butler squirm. “You know, I’ve always wondered why more demons don’t employ this kind of torture in their own use. It’s wonderfully effective, and yet, not a scratch. You wouldn’t have to worry about damaging them partway through.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, wishing she would move to a new area at the very least. Her touch was light and quick and danced just at the edge of his nerves, making laughter splutter unprompted to his lips. His resolve was quickly dying as time went on, and his ability to cover up the noises dying to escape him was becoming almost non-existent. He found himself twitching away from her despite himself, unable to hold still against the newfound sensation.

“T-This ihis, q-quite unusual,” Sebastian stammered, his usual smirk transformed into a wobbling grin, entirely out of his control. “I-I’ve nehever experienced sohomething l-like this.”

“I admit, it’s new to me as well,” Angela said, the light touches transforming into rapid pokes. Each one was like a shock to his system, and he jerked away in accordance to her movements, like a puppet controlled on a string. “Perhaps we can discover it together?”

Sebastian snorted, though he couldn’t tell if it was at her words or because of her hands.

“It does make me wonder, though…” she mused, continuing to experimentally poke up his sides. “There’s so much to explore on the human body. I wonder if this… sensitivity of yours is located elsewhere?”

Sebastian warily watched her hands as they trailed downwards, resting curiously on his hips. She ran her thumb over the skin, tracing the outline of the bone underneath. Sebastian’s breath hitched in his throat, still with anticipation. She pressed her thumb in lightly, the slightest of pressure that provoked a spluttered cough from the other. Slowly, Angela increased the pressure, Sebastian’s torso attempting desperately to curl up into a protective stance all the while. Against his will, a whimper slipped out of his mouth. He instantly regretted the noise as he watched Angela’s eyebrows raise curiously.

“Is this… bothering you?” She dug her thumb in, seemingly gaining direct access to his nerves in this process. “To think, a demon like yourself could be taken down by something so human as tickling.”

Sebastian’s eyes were furrowed in intense concentration. He huffed, breathy chuckles rolling off his lips. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t ignore this. The pain from before had been commonplace, a distant irritation, but this… this was something new. It was unbearable, a unique torture that kept him constantly on edge no matter how he tried to accustom himself to it.

And yet.

He bit his lip, fighting back inevitable laughter as those thrilling sensations coursed through him, tensing him like a livewire. It was similar to a chase, running until your legs collapsed as a wild and desperate euphoria caught hold of you, both terrifying and exhilarating all at once. It was such a distinctively human feeling, that it made Sebastian wonder if spending so much of his time around the creatures was having an effect on him.

His musings were interrupted by laughter, his own he quickly recognized, bursting from him suddenly as her hands grew more eager in their pursuit. He arched back, though it only drew him closer to her. She smiled, her plan growing to be a success.

“T-Thihis ihis uhuseless!” Sebastian informed her, the words which were meant to be defiant coming out breathless and giggly. “We b-both knohow yohou dohon’t neheheed ahaha conhehehession!”

“True. What I require is not a confession, but rather something more interesting.”

Sebastian was having trouble focusing on her words, so focused was he on her hands, sometimes digging in, sometimes skittering featherlight across his nerves. “T-Thehen whahat?” he managed, the words instantly interrupted by a strained laugh.

Angela smiled, a slow, languorous thing as she tapped her fingers along his waistline. “Put simply, this. You, laughing, begging, writhing, a powerful demon reduced to a helpless creature at my mercy. Nowhere to go, no one to save you, just sensation slowly driving you out of your mind. I think that would be fit punishment for all the trouble you’ve caused me, don’t you?”

Ah. There it was. This was revenge, a way to get back at him—a way to get back at Ciel for resisting them, inadvertently. He twisted back involuntarily, stifling an altogether embarrassing noise when her nails dragged under his navel. Panicking now would get him nowhere, and everything in him wanted to hold out and refuse her the reaction she so desired. Unfortunately, his body had different plans, and he couldn’t help the way laughter spilled unwanted from his lips, or the way he twitched and squirmed with each new maneuver of her fingers.

Hunching his shoulders up, Sebastian chuckled, hoping for the sound to be smooth and confident, though it came out cracked and high-pitched with mirth. “Yohohou r-reheally thihink I wohon’t tahake m-my rehevenge?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Sebastian yelped, an embarrassing, human sound, when she dragged her nails over his hips and up his back. He arched forward, whining over a fit of muffled giggles. She curled her fingers under his shoulder blades, gently digging into the skin there. He hissed out a sharp breath through his teeth, leaning into her as he attempted to escape her fingers.

“Unfortunately,” Angela continued, flashing a smile so assured in her plan that Sebastian felt the first sparks of irritation coursing through him. “You can’t do much of anything without permission from your master, can you? Poor little demon, bound to the whims of a mere child. Although I can’t imagine you anticipated this when you made the deal.”

A retort fled his tongue when fingers slid down his spine, prompting a frantic bark of laughter as he danced uselessly away from her touch. He ducked his chin down, his hair falling into his eyes and serving to hide the red creeping across his face. Embarrassment was a new feeling for him, and he struggled to sink into it comfortably. He let out a squeal when nails spidered over the small of his back, his spine nearly forming a C as he attempted to bend, unsuccessfully, away from the unbearable tickling. He hadn’t expected so many parts of himself to be susceptible to this particular weakness.

“T-Thihis ihihis c-chihildihihish—aha, hmm, stahap yohohou—yohohou—!”

“You… demon?” Angela filled in for him curiously. She moved her hands down, gripping his sides and squeezing tightly. “No, my dear, I’m afraid that’s you. I’m simply fulfilling my heavenly duty—punishing the wicked~”

Sebastian threw his head back in wild laughter, twisting desperately in a futile attempt to escape. It was no use. Being restrained was one thing, but this was much different. To be held not by bonds but by a command, by force of willpower and contract alone, was an entirely new level of intolerable. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to focus on anything but her nails, anything but the sparks of sensation shooting through him and driving him near up the wall.

A smirk made its way across Angela’s face as she watched him writhe, lightly walking her fingers up his sides once more. “That’s it, my helpless devil—laugh.”

It was nearly an hour later, sixty minutes of fingers tweaking, poking, wiggling over every inch of his skin, sixty minutes of breathless laughter and stifled pleas as he fought to retain even some dignity in the situation, before relief came in the form of his name, a simple demand.

Sebastian, I need you!

Immediatelly, he jerked free from the bonds, perhaps a bit more ruthlessly than he needed to. His face was flushed from laughing, his skin tingling with leftover feeling. Angela snatched her hands back, startled, but she didn’t seem worried. Sebastian smiled at her, the expression tight with annoyance and the promise of revenge.

“I thank you for your company, but I’m afraid my master needs me, so I shall be taking my leave.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to hold you any longer than we must,” she agreed calmly, clasping her hands behind her back. She couldn’t help her amusement as the demon subtly crossed his arms, attempting to rub away any lingering sensation without detection. “Go now dog, and kneel before that pitiful pup you call lord. I’ll be here, waiting, for when we meet again.”

She wiggled her fingers in farewell, a last tease before he disappeared in a hasty flash.

Later that evening, Sebastian did his best to force the encounter out of his mind, trying to focus on Ciel, the words tumbling in spiteful irritation out of the boy’s mouth as they rode back in the carriage. No matter how he tried, however, he couldn’t escape the memories plaguing his mind. Soft touches, electric sensation, laughter tumbling helpless and pitiful from his lips, a torture impossible to resist, escape a mere dream. At the time it had all seemed so unbearable, frustration and weakness driving his desperation to get away, but now….

He couldn’t help but be curious about this new methodology, and, despite everything, a little excited. He found that he almost missed the vulnerability of it all, and the way it twisted his insides in such a delightfully human manner.

I’ll be here, waiting, for when we meet again.

A shiver worked its way down Sebastian’s spine, a smile flitting unwittingly onto his features.

He found, unbelievably, that he was almost looking forward to it.

#tickle fic #black butler #sebastian michaelis #tickling #fanfiction #angela #ciel phantomhive #my writing

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