#but that's just garden variety arrogance

[tritoch]

i'm such a fake bitch because i'm like "it's okay to like problematic characters (◡‿◡✿) it is also okay to dislike them (..◜ᴗ◝..) your opinions on fictional characters do not reflect anything about you as a person" and then someone will say something mildly critical of venat finalfantasy and it's like hm. i may have been lying earlier.

[gorogues]

Spoilers for Suicide Squad: Kill Arkham Asylum #1!

You can see some preview pages here.

Digger actually doesn't appear much in the issue -- these two pages, plus the one-panel cameo from the preview are the extent of it -- but he still manages to be memorable. The issue mostly sets up the backstory and premise of the new video game, establishing very clearly how cruel Arkham Asylum is and the cold arrogance of Amanda Waller, along with the desperation of the inmates. It's not at all surprising that they'd be willing to do her bidding to get out of that place, even at the potential cost of their own lives. Presumably the worldwide chaos mentioned at the end is part of the game, the reason why the Squad is sent to kill the Justice League. (I haven't played it.)

So there's not a whole lot to talk about in terms of Digger here, but he'll probably get more attention in future issues as the Squad moves into action. This one was more about set-up. I thought it was pretty good at what it intended to do, as it tells us a lot about the situation the inmates find themselves in and thus ultimately about their motivations. Plus, they're not wrong about Digger just being a garden-variety asshole! It's good that he's not being lumped in with the psychos, he's just a big jerk.

[jackfrostsisterssisterinlaw]

Satoru Gojo x Y/N

A/N - I had to do something to heal my soul after jjk season 2. Heal with me. Go back to season 1 or the beginning of season 2 when it was all fun and games.

word count : 556

warnings : none

Satoru Gojo

Has a large wardrobe featuring several similar outfits of the same  dark shade of blue. He lets you borrow his clothes sometimes but becomes super grumpy if you accidentally tear a hole or get it dirty. He has a rack for an assortment of sunglasses and blindfolds which is off limits for you, only because he knows you’ll make him a lot less cool if you took to wearing sunglasses too.

Has a big ego. He’ll become the insecure partner constantly seeking validation saying stuff like “here’s a reminder that I’m the best.” And expect you to agree with him. It’s not really his insecurity but more his attempts at flirting so it’s a good thing you bear with the arrogance because he’s really trying to make you melt using his charisma rather than his abilities. (If he wanted to he could make you melt quite literally.)

Will forget your birthday. I’m sorry it’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s so chaotic and impulsive that it’s more likely for him to remember on the day and make a plan rather than plan a week before. He’ll have something amazing planned undoubtedly, you mean the world to him, but don’t ask him when he planned it. He has to constantly keep saving the world in mind, you can’t expect him to remember your birthday all the time.

Will make other people jealous of you. If you’re dating him trust me, the looks you’re going to be getting will be unpleasant. You’re going to feel like a dirty sock by the way they turn their noses down at you with distaste. They are just jealous because you did what no one else could. And that was to win Gojo’s heart. Roll your eyes and then kiss him. Help them understand the message.

Might have you yourself second guessing your worth. He’s gorgeous after all you’ll wonder why he isn’t with someone in his league. But you’re putting yourself down, he loves you for your personality and because of the butterflies you brought to life within his stomach so don’t let insecurities get in the way. There’s only room for one insecure partner and he’s already taken that role.

Has to impress you every day. You’ll wake up every morning to him experimenting with his abilities and trying something new. It’s entertaining as long as he doesn’t wake you up too early or make a lot of noise.

Loves pouting and getting his way. You fold like a foldable garden chair when he scrunches his nose and eyes, in order to get what he wants.

Brings you random things from his mission. He’s very spontaneous though so expect a wide variety of gifts ranging from a luxury cruise to a cursed finger.

Is extremely good with kids. You find yourself watching him bring himself down to be able to relate to children and make them feel safe. It’s one of the many reasons that made you fall for him.

Is powerful and will therefore protect you. It may seem he’s not looking out for you because he has to look out for the entire world, but trust me if he could only save one person, that one person would be you.

[latenlghtdevil]

so since I can't stop thinking about head chef!Sukuna, let me ramble on about some head cannons I have about him

head chef!sukuna...

mainlines a monster before every single shift, and can be seen paying megumi to run to the corner convenience store to buy another during busy nights

he's on aux, and since the ancient speaker system is ran out of the managers office, his phone is locked in their almost the entire shift and no one else has the chance to change it

beside the two managers, satoru and utahime, but they dont care enough ab it honestly

he literally has no clue how many hours he actually spends doing some sort of work for the restaurant

ex: the many hours he spends up at night working on new menu items, the earlier mornings he spends wandering through local markets and farms, the days off filled with paperwork or recipes or meetings let's not talk ab it he's gonna geta headache again

speaking of headaches- he definitely talked Gojo into letting his little brothers work there as soon as they were able to

but they weren't allowed to work in the kitchen, he didn't wanna have to make them put up with his attitude

his kitchen consists of quite a few chefs, with a lot of lower cooks switching in and out with their intern spots

don't worry, they are paid interns

his main cooks consisted of suguru, toji, aoi, and uraume

he'd worked at quite a lot of fine dining restaurants, having earned a michaeline star for the fifth restaurant he'd worked at by the age of 24

before he took in his younger brothers and settled back into their childhood home, he'd spent about five years working in any fine dining place he could

he'd been cooking since as long as he could remember, quickly figuring that if that was what he was good at and enjoyed, he would dedicate his life to it maybe sukuna lied on a resume or two, but he was gonna get to the top one way or another

somehow his arrogance seemed to work until it didn't; it'd get his foot in the door places, and then it'd turn around and get him fired a few months later

once his grandfather passed, he found himself finding his way back to Tokyo even if he didn't want to

luckily for him, his former classmate Satoru Gojo was managing a failing restaurant with an incapable cook named Mahito

Gojo was more than happy to deal with Sukuna's shit again if it meant keeping his place afloat

they're kinda friends, but it's weird because they're always mad at each other

that's how everyone's relationships with him are, though, and Sukuna's always irritating someone tbh

he has a cat- he found the little dark grey kitten asa stray feeding off scraps she found in the dumpster, so he couldn't help but scoop her up

she seemed sweet enough, but as soon as he fell asleep she nearly clawed the couch to shreds, thus earning herself the name akumu which means nightmare

she was horribly affectionate and vocal, constantly meowing for attention, but only towards sukuna and the brats, she shot dirty looks and would actively hiss at anyone else stepping foot into their house

she's his baby, but that secrets behind closed doors

she sleeps in his bed, she has a plethora of toys and collars, and don't you dare open the treat cabinet— he's not ashamed

his other secret is his back garden it wasnt like a huge secret, but it wasn't something he wanted to share with everyone either

sukuna thought he was going crazy the first time he made a dinner almost entirely from his home grown ingredients because it tasted fucking insane

he liked stroking his own ego but something about his ingredients actually made it better, Choso and Yuji couldn't even argue

it wasn't anything vast, and the variety wasn't huge but it was enough to make each meal just a bit better and it was something he held near to himself, only sharing it with his brats

[hiddenavenues]

hi :)) I saw ur introduction post and I think you're super cool!!1! can you make an Arthur Morgan x transmasc fic where him and the reader meet at that one party mission in Saint Denis <3 if you can't do it or feel umcomfy please feel free to ignore!! hope you have a great day ❤️❤️❤️

An Outlaws Masquerade

a/n: HI ANON THANK YOU FOR WAITING! I loved writing this req and it got a little longer than anticipated. Let me know how you feel about it, hope you enjoy!

Arthur Morgan x TransMasc!Reader

Words: 2.0k

CW: Mention of drinking, reader is an outlaw, mentions of violence, fake drunk, one cigarette mentioned

Your suit clung to your frame like a second skin as you lifted a glass of sparkling champagne to your lips. The fine fabric sculpted your silhouette, a sharp contrast to your usual attire of mud-splattered boots and worn-out denim. Tonight, you played a part, one that felt as foreign as the luxury surrounding you.

The chill from the garden’s cement bench seeped through your trousers as you sought refuge from the suffocating swirl of expensive cologne and clinking glasses. Here, among the well-kept roses and tulips, the scent of earth and flowers soothed your fraying nerves, offering a moment of clarity.

You received the invitation a few days ago, addressed to an alias you’d recently grown accustomed to. The waxy paper and crimson seal alone screamed wealth, with elegant swirls and dots of ink inside mocking your humble home. A party hosted by the mayor, a perfect opportunity to sniff out a lucrative job, albeit of the less-than-legal variety.

For nearly two hours, you had absentmindedly milled through the crowd, joining conversations and hoping to hear anything about a job with money. The jewels adorning the hands of oblivious partygoers sparkled mockingly, unaware of the thief in their midst. You drifted through the crowd like a shadow, listening for whispers of opportunity.

Movement from the balcony caught your eye. Four men in Saint Denis’ finest stood above the rest of the party. You recognized Bronte; his arrogant smirk seemed to ooze venom as he introduced the other men to two newcomers. A man in a black top hat stood beside him, his voice loud enough to carry over the chatter in the garden. The bite in his laugh and sharpness in his gaze felt inhuman, like a wolf surveying prey.

If you hadn’t been paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed the fifth man lingering in the shadows behind the wolf.

He didn’t fit in with the boisterous men around him; his large frame and sun-kissed cheeks betrayed his attempt at fitting into high-class society. There was something in how he carried himself, a guarded ease, a quiet readiness that struck a chord of familiarity. You’d seen it before, felt it in yourself, that unspoken mark of someone who lived by their own rules outside the bounds of polite society.

You watched as his gaze flicked over the clusters of people, lingering just long enough to assess each group before moving on.

As if sensing your attention, his eyes snapped to yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His gaze was steady and calculating, eyes scanning you slowly before returning to yours. You tilted your glass slightly in silent acknowledgment. His expression remained unreadable, though a subtle shift in his posture suggested he’d taken note of your greeting.

Before you could dwell on it further, the wolf let out a bark of laughter and gestured to the garden below, drawing the party's attention. While everyone turned to catch a glance at whatever he thought was interesting, you glanced back to where you last saw the fifth man, only to find an empty balcony.

Your mouth tugged into a grin. Not a shabby distraction.

You stood up slowly, smoothing out the fabric of your suit before slipping through the crowd to the mansion's entrance.

The party’s hum grew distant as you wandered deeper into the mansion. The cool marble floors were a welcome reprieve from the stuffy press of bodies and clinking glasses.

Walking past the open front doors, the empty night beyond whispered your name, begging you to ignore the tether deep in your gut, beckoning you to the mystery man. No matter how appealing your warm bed sounded, you couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving now would mean missing something important, something that could change everything.

Your leather shoes are silent over carpeted stairs; candles mounted to the wall flickering as you pass by. Reaching the top of the stairs, you pause in front of an ornate wooden door. Glancing around the landing, you note that all the doors are open and inviting, nearly begging wanderers to step inside and drool at the priceless books and artifacts. Lights had been strung through the doorways of other rooms as if trying to draw the eye away from this one.

You’d hardly be able to call yourself an outlaw if you didn’t have at least a little peak.

Your fingers twitch for your throwing knives confiscated downstairs as you inch open the door, heart pounding as you glimpse bookshelves lining the walls of a small room. The sound of paper whispering between fingers alerts you to the room's occupancy. Slowly you push the door further, revealing the man from the balcony standing behind a large wood desk.

With his back to you, the man is unaware of your intrusion, his eyes scan a paper in front of him, mouthing each word as his finger ghosts over the lines of text. With the intention of catching a glimpse at the paper, you open the door wider, only for the sound of squealing hinges to cut through the stillness.

Your heart stills in your chest as the man’s eyes snap to yours, his hand darting to an empty holster. A snarl curls his lip, eyes zipping from yours to the door behind you.

For a second, you’re reminded of a cornered animal torn between fight or flight.

“You move, and I’ll make sure no one hears you scream.” He growls, voice just over a whisper.

Your brows raise as you slowly lift your hands, palms toward him. “Easy tiger, I’m no rat.”

A muscle in the man's jaw feathered as his eyes narrowed. “What a man of money doing snooping around where he shouldn’t?”

“Same thing you are, I suppose,” You take a step further into the room, softly shutting the door behind you. “A place like this is brimming with opportunity.”

“That so?” His brows knitted together as he looked you over, taking in the suit and fine leather shoes. “Don’t exactly look the part of an outlaw.”

“And you do?” You question, gesturing with your raised hands to his matching black suit and slick-backed hair.

The man purses his lips, trying to hide a reluctant smile. You breathe a sigh of relief as he relaxes his shoulders, eyes glancing back to the desk he had been searching before returning to yours. “You here for something in particular or just distracting me?”

You lowered your arms slowly, daring a glance at the scattered papers on the desk. In the pale light, bold red ink stamped across the top of the first sheet caught your eye: TOP SECRET: EXTREMELY CONFIDENTIAL.

“Let’s just say we’re after the same thing. Maybe we can help each other out.”

The man tilted his head, studying you for a long moment before seemingly arriving at a conclusion.

“Fine, but any funny business, and I’m putting a bullet in your head.” He mumbles, grabbing the paper. You didn’t bother pointing out how neither of you currently had your weapons.

"Arthur," he said, extending a hand toward you.

You grasped it, your calloused palms brushing against his as you replied with your name.

“Saw ya’ from the balcony, didn’t I?” Arthur asks.

“That ya’ did,” You grin, stepping to stand beside Arthur. “I amend your attempt at fitting in, but I hate to admit you stick out like a sore thumb up there.” You laugh quietly at the look of bemused annoyance on Arthur’s face.

“Ain't my usual crowd, that's for sure. You seem more at ease than most with that fancy suit, but I reckon it ain't your usual attire either." He says sheepishly.

You chuckle softly, "You caught me. This whole setup is more costume than anything else. I'm here on business."

Arthur's eyes flicked back to the papers in his hand, then to you. "Well, if we’re gonna work together, best not waste time. What exactly are you after?"

Time seemed to slow as you and Arthur discussed a plan, taking turns offering ideas on the job. You were surprised to learn Arthur ran with the Van Der Linde gang, the same boys who stirred up Black Water months back.

Arthur stashed the papers inside his jacket before glancing at the door. “We best get moving before we push our luck in here.” He sighs, stepping around you to press an ear to the door.

Following suit, both of you listen intently for signs of anyone outside. Arthur meets your eyes after a few seconds, providing a curt nod before pulling the door open.

To both of your relief, the hallway is empty.

The distant chatter from the party outside drowns out the soft click as Arthur closes the door behind you. Glancing back at him, he puts a finger to his lips before pointing towards the staircase you’d climbed minutes ago. Seeing as the balcony was now empty of Bronte and his goons, you were still in restricted territory.

Luck was not on your side as the sound of approaching voices freezes you both in place.

Arthur’s hand gently wraps around your bicep in warning, a look of alarm plastered across his face.

“We got company,” Arthur mutters, breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Best figure something out before ole’ bronte has both us swingin’ from the gallows.”

Your mind reels as you think of all the acts that have gotten you out of predicaments worse than this. An idea sparks as you look Arthur over.

Your voice is firmer than you thought it’d be as you tangle his hair in your fingers, pulling strands out of place with haste. “Follow my lead,” You whisper, musing your own hair before stumbling towards the staircase, a bubbly laugh on your tongue.

You let your body sway as you stumble into the wall, a drunk smile tugging your lips. You hear a muttered curse from behind you before Arthurs's faltering steps follow yours, adopting a similar stagger as the voices round the corner.

Two sharply dressed men stop dead at the sight of you, brows furrowing in bewilderment. “What the hell are you doing up here?” One demands, tone sharp with anger. The glint of metal from the man's hip has your stomach lurching. Seems like not everyone's guns were confiscated.

Arthur bumps into you, bracing himself with a shoulder against the wall. “We got lost! Some party, huh?” He slurs, a ridiculous grin splitting his cheeks.

“We thought this was... Was the way to the bathroom, but nooooo…!” You add, lightly shoving Arthur’s shoulder, nearly tumbling him to the carpet. “This guy’s got us all turned ‘round!” You laugh as Arthur grabs at your arm to stabilize himself.

The men exchange looks of disgust, clearly unimpressed, but suspicion no longer lining their brows. “The bathroom is downstairs,” One growls, pointing down the stairs behind them.

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver,” Arthur mumbles, swaying as both of you lean into each other for support down the stairs, muttering slurred apologies and biting back laughter.

Grabbing back both your weapons from the front door, neither of you drops the rouse as you sway across the front lawn. You trip over your own shoes as concrete turns into the muddy streets of Saint-Denis.

As the mansion lights flicker a few houses down, you both let out stifled laughs that quickly have both of you doubling over, hands on your knees as tears prick the corner of your eyes.

Arthur straightens, letting out a breathy sigh, “Well, that was somethin’,” he chuckles, gaze drifting to the stretch of street you’d just stumbled down before landing on you. “Didn’t think I’d be playing a drunk fool just to get outta’ a place like that.”

You smirk, tucking your hair back into place with daft fingers. “Could’ve fooled me. Ya’ were a natural.”

Arthur snorts, lighting a cigarette from his jacket pocket. “Maybe, but I don’t plan on makin’ it a habit. You come up with this stuff on the fly, or is actin’ like a fool just somethin’ you’re good at?”

You scoff at the lighthearted insult. “Guess you’ll just have to stick around to find out.” You tease, nudging his shoulder with your own.

Arthur studies you as he takes a drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the night air. “Reckon I just might.” 

[thebramblewood]

KELLAN MCDANIEL for @sims4thehoes' Caliente Whores Ranch

"If you ask my family, I'm a miserable failure when it comes to ranchin'. But whorin'? Now, there's my area of expertise."

The McDaniels have been mainstays in Chestnut Ridge for so long they're practically rancher royalty. But just as Kellan was poised to take the reins of the family business, he got in trouble with the law one too many times for his grandparents' comfort (vandalism, aggravated assault, driving under the influence, resisting arrest... you know, your garden variety drunk white boy crimes) and they kicked him out and gave the ranch to his little sister instead.

Now, he lives in a rundown trailer park on the edge of town, a disgraced but misunderstood (so he claims) rebel. He's known to down a beer or three at all meals, smoke a pack of cigarettes a day, and haggardly wander the streets in pursuit of a fight or a fuck. Despite his status as an alcoholic womanizer, his apparent hatred of showering, and the fact that he often forgets to wear a shirt, his natural charisma saves him from being a total outcast. He can be the life of the saloon or the dance hall, so long as he's not punching holes in the walls or threatening to do the same to the head of the first person who looks at him funny.

All CC included (full credit to creators). He has outfits in every category.

I used several packs, but Horse Ranch is the most necessary.

Defaults not included: Tinsel skin, Dynastid eyes, default brows, EA eyelashes remover. Hopefully, he's still sexy without them.

I use the More Traits in CAS mod, and I gave him a custom trait by Kuttoe (arrogant). If you don't have these mods, it should be fine. He'll just be missing a couple.

DOWNLOAD: SIMFILESHARE

[landograndprix]

I know there have been anons that view Lando and girlie’s relationship so far as just sexual, and I will agree that their txt are normally of a spicy variety but I would like to remind those anons that Lando so far in this relationship has been all about showing up. When girlie was sick, it was Lando that dropped what he was doing to make sure that both her and Z were taken care of. If you’re just interested in sleeping with someone (especially when you’re a f1 driver who could have any girl in a Monaco club) you don’t go through that trouble. When girlie was kicked out, Lando was the one that insisted on her staying at his place. He was out of town, no chance of anything happening. He who’s a high earning young good looking bachelor was more than happy to have his living room turned into a kids playground. He even insisted on it. He’s been the 1st to make sure that girlie is okay with all the flirty/spicy txt (love a consent king) that they’ve been sending and is quick to reassure her that he’s not just with her for the sex, he’s happy to just watch her work. I don’t think people are giving him enough credit, he knows that girlie was done wrong in her past relationship. He’s not expecting her to have no baggage, he’s working within what makes her comfortable and showing that unlike Charles he’s willing to show up for her. This seems very much as an actions speak louder than words moment. Charles was good about saying the right things, and he was even around in the short term; but I think Lando is trying to show both girlie, Z and the rest of the world that he’s around for the good, the bad and the ugly. Right now it seems that girlie is skittish, trying to protect her heart after Charles broke it, maybe even in denial about already being partially in love with Lando. I know Millie made the comment about “does Lando know this isn’t a relationship?” But I’d like to counter that with does girlie know this is a relationship, and that Lando is just letting her believe otherwise. I think that when she finally goes to him, and is willing to admit how she’s feel, there’s going to be this moment of “😐babe, ik 😊” from Lando. Not in an arrogant way, but in a babe you’ve been living in denial for a little bit; but that’s fine I knew for the both of us. Can also see him having a room set up for Z at his apartment, the whole place baby proofed and ready for their visits (and their move in). Absolutely love Millie, I know she jokes about girlie being her mom, but I really think she’ll do girlie a lot of good. To have a friend that really is a ride or die, completely willing to support you, even if they don’t necessarily agree with your choices is so freeing. Bonus points if she ends up with a driver. Would love to see her with Logan. The boy has alway struck me as an introvert, and his last year on the grid I didn’t see him really interact with anyone other than Alex. I would love to get to see Lando take Oscar under his wing, and then Logan b/c of girlie. I would love to see girlie put some of those maternal instincts into Oscar and Logan. Cause can you imagine poor Logan is being pestered into a relationship with Millie and then bullied (lovingly) on international tv by girlie? Forcing him to come to McLaren family dinners. Even when he insists that’s he’s not family. Oh damn this got away from me! Sorry, just love the fic and wanted someone to geek out with. 🧡🧡🧡

🪩

Oh I love the idea of lando just going with the flow and doing things in y/n her pace because he knows life is crazy enough for her and Z already and because he just really wants to be with both of them 🥺

I love the room set up by lando on his apartment for when they come over and now I can't stop thinking about little Z meeting lando his nieces 😭

I think Logan and Millie will be a perfect match! Logan and Oscar go way back too so it's one big family in the end, just imagining them around a big table in their massive french countryside garden having a bbq on a hot summer night 😭

And God, don't apologise, I love it when you guys talk about the fic 😭

[altocat]

What’s something cute that would make AGSZC completely melt away into goo either internally or externally?

Zack: Aerith doing pretty much anything. Zack is complete putty in her hands. She could be doing the most mundane task ever and yet somehow he's still melting over her. He likes the little songs she makes up to remember things, how she talks to the flowers when she waters them. He really is just kind of pathetic for her, though he hides it under a lot of soldier bravado.

Sephiroth: There's really not that much that actually makes Sephiroth melt. The best you could hope for is a thaw, and it only ever applies to Genesis, Angeal, and Zack. However, he has been rather uncharacteristically friendly and soft towards one of the secretaries downstairs. Genesis jokes that maybe it's a crush but Angeal points out that she's married and is heavily pregnant with a kid on the way. Weird...

Cloud: Baby animals. Mostly of any variety. Cloud may be awkward and at times rough around the edges when he's trying to act tough, but he has a soft spot for animals. And if it's tiny and newborn and helpless, that's it. The gloves are off. In between turning into goo he will fight to the death to keep it alive.

Angeal: Puppies. Both of the furry variety and the Zack variety. That's a no-brainer. But it also applies to the cadets as well. And, bizarrely, his garden. The man cries over new buds coming in like he just witnessed the birth of his child.

Genesis: He spends 99.9% of his day bantering with Sephiroth taking shots at each other. But when Sephiroth actually gives him an actual COMPLIMENT? Mush. Disgusting, sludgy, helpless mush. And enough to throw him off his game if they're sparring. Genesis thinks Sephiroth does it on purpose. Gen also has a weak spot for kids. You'd never believe it, but Gen actually really likes kids and is pretty good with them, in his own arrogant way of course!

[thehonorablejudgewhitey]

Plain stupidity is bad, sure, but hubris...hubris is what truly dooms any change for the better. Thinking you're smart beats just being a plain, garden-variety fucking moron every time. The people so enamored with their own belly buttons, never looking up, unable to even fathom that other people's lives are on the line right now. The absolute stench of privilege oozing from these creatures smugly sitting on their high horse, blissfully unaffected by the consequences of their dumbness is revolting. Gobbling up and regurgitating obvious propaganda, too blind, too arrogant to realize how easily they're puppeteered by the strings of their own ego. These thickheaded narcissists, these pathetic toddlers believing themselves to be special little boys and girls who'll only accept what they think is perfection while everyone else is just trying to survive to fight another day. These are the gaping assholes who'll end up serving us to fascism on a silver platter. What will truly get us won't be the inbreds with the swastika tattoos or even the thirsty money whores, but rather the people too stupid to realize that they are indeed painfully stupid, the ones confidently smearing shit all over themselves and on everything they touch while thinking themselves morally superior.

[jellogram]

It's insane what people online have done with narcissistic personality disorder. It's a condition based in fear. It's what happens when someone was so neglected/abused and becomes so insecure that they need everything to be about them, to constantly have everyone build them up, because that's the only way they can feel even a tenth of the security that other people feel. This causes them to be assholes a lot of the time, but it's not coming from a place of genuine arrogance. They feel like they need that attention and adoration to survive.

I don't know how you can think your mom or your ex or whomever has NPD and not immediately feel sympathy for them. It's not a fun disorder to have. You don't label people that way in order to dismiss them as inherently evil succubi. If you think someone is actually a narcissist, the proper response is pity. Maybe some effort to help them.

But the internet decided that it makes someone barely even human. You're not a normal person, you're a narcissist. I need to protect myself from you. When in reality, the person in question is probably either a narcissist who's miserable and suffering, or they're just a general garden variety asshole.

[jellochihuahua]

In Defense of Empathy

There's a natural impulse right now to be angry at the voters (and non-voters) who are ultimately responsible for another Trump presidency. I've already seen posts of people jumping feet first in schadenfreude, ready to watch the imminent Face Feast of the Leopards unfold on the foolish and hateful people who decided the price of breakfast was more important than the rights of other human beings. Immigrants who voted to put in office a man who will try to revoke their citizenship because they didn't think a woman could run this country. Millions of people who were taken in by a carnival barker running for the most powerful position in the world. Right now it's very hard not to harbor the utmost vitriol towards these ignorant, naive, and foolish people because it seems very clear what the consequences will be for the rest of us. The time is very likely coming soon that all of these people will be forced to reckon with the consequences of their choice.

When that moment comes, there will be an overwhelming desire to pull out the screenshot of Arthur Fleck and retort that people should get what they deserve. It would be so satisfying to see the despair in their eyes and tell them "this is what you wanted right, why are you mad that you got it?!" And while it would be so satisfying to rub people's noses in the consequences of their actions, it is entirely the wrong thing to do. When people get knocked down, you should try to pick them up. It will be challenging, but I at least will try my best to treat my fellow people with understanding and love. Even as they harm me and my loved ones, I have to hold onto the belief that as our fellow humans they are deserving of the same understanding and concern that all people deserve, regardless of their beliefs. And my hope is that this will be how we turn them into true comrades. If, in that moment when they are laid low, we treat them with disdain and contempt then we will lose them for another generation.

Within leftist and liberal circles there is an open disdain for the uneducated, ignorant and below-average intelligence (of the normal garden variety unintelligence). It's very similar to the conservative contempt towards anyone who is outside their range of "normal" and it is just as toxic. People who below-average in intelligence deserve the same love and basic human respect as people who are below-average in looks, or outside the range of what society has deemed "acceptable" parameters.

I say this not just as an indictment of the "the left" writ large but also as an indictment of my own thoughts. "These idiots have no idea what they've done" I think to myself as my Trump-supporting coworkers gleefully whisper about the good times ahead. I feel contempt for their naivety, I feel hatred for their stupidity. I want to force the knowledge and understanding I have into their minds. I want them to SEE.

But that's arrogance. That's expecting everyone else too see what I see and understand it in the same way. I saw an argument online yesterday where someone compared it to teachers. "Why is the pressure always on the teacher to motivate the students? Why is it always on teachers to convince people to learn, it should be on the students to want to learn." Why don't the kids just fend for themselves? Why don't ignorant people just educate themselves? Why don't the homeless just buy a house? This is the mindset of the privileged failing to understand those who don't share their privilege. And intelligence is largely a privilege, it is something you're born into. It is easy to be informed when staying informed is easy for you. It's easy to see how things interconnect in the world when learning the systems seems obvious. It is easy to stay off the streets when you have a trust.

That's not to say anyone who voted for Trump or decided not to vote is stupid, or ignorant. Some of them are hateful. Some of them are just afraid, or gullible, or apathetic, or frustrated with the status quo. And those things are all things that I think anyone can relate to. They are human failings, and to dehumanize a whole bunch a vast swathe will only turn them back towards MAGA.

If we are to bring normal, working, struggling people into our camp we have to meet them where they are. The reason good teachers take responsibility for motivating students is because they care about them. They love them and they know that the world will be a better place if they are convinced to learn. If they are taught to care, and grow and be curious they will make the world a better place. Think to your favorite teacher (if you had one) and consider why they did a hard job for (in the US at least) not very much money. It's always love. It's always hope. It's always belief that they can make a difference, no matter small in scheme of things. Small differences can add up, they can be everything.

To break the perception that to be a leftist is to be an elitist we must take a page out of MAGAs favorite book that it doesn't read. We must turn the other cheek. Which is always so easy to say, and SO hard to do. Out of all the things in the bible that you're told to do, this is the one that Christians fail at the most. Because it requires so much inner strength, so much self-control. To meet hate with love is a huge ask, but it's what we have to do if we want the world to be better. If we fight hate with more hate, we'll just end up with a more hateful world. We have to strive to see the humanity and pain of those who have enabled our oppressors. We have to see it in our oppressors too.

We can't, of course, roll over and just die. Resistance will be needed. Action will be needed. Hard times and hard work and fear and suffering are coming. But, if we can, we should try to meet the moment with hearts full of love and a desire to understand. If can't embrace those who've been conned by MAGA, where will they turn? If we can't get past our resentments, we will never build a movement to try and turn humanity away from the cliff of our own extinction. We must try to love even those that hate us. In the end, love is the only thing that ever stops hate. And I'm so tired of living in such a hateful world, so I'm going to try again and again to let love and hope be my north star. Maybe that's also naive, but in my dreams there is a world where things are better than they are now, where people are better than they are now. And that world can only exist if it's built on love.

[milkstoner]

title: malleus maleficarum

pairing: malleus/me. okay no its malleus/reader unless you don’t relate to the way i love him

genre: poetry of the excessively rhyming variety

word count: 1.5k 😭

here we are… for malleus’ birthday, i wrote him a love letter (my take on malleyuu)

full text under the cut!

Born of the snow

He hides from his own shadow

He’d never wanted to look from above

In his heart he knows he’s below

How he’d wished for time to slow down

And for his wrath not to grow

For all to fear his crown

Look, how they overlook his sorrow

Look, how the fire overflows

Look, how the fireflies glow

In this winter forest a blessing bestowed

Wednesday, child of woe

Star, yearning leisure

Strength, burning pressure

To him I was a doe

King of thorns

Brings from the ashes his scorn

Violin harmonies from the hollow morn

Mourn treasures long gone

Memories ingrained in the stone of his throne

Only when he’s angry does he find himself reborn

Prince of arrogance

Wishes he wasn’t just his inheritance

What a fool; cursed by his precedence

He’s to rule; damned by his puissance

Only in romance does he find resonance

And in his dreams of decadence

He won’t be a means of defence

I’ve always wanted to dance with malevolence

Tyrant of destruction, child of misfortune

As everlasting as he is, so is his isolation

And for how much he hates corruption

He is unsurprisingly weak to seduction

Who could blame him for giving in to temptation?

Poor, fragile soul; his confused feelings are an eruption

Just waiting to happen

Ruler of the abyss

Emerges from the darkness

Walks weary in the pit of his loneliness

Tramples all over white amaryllis

Nonetheless he guides the faithless

Nourishes his hubris

And represses the viridescent bitterness

And me? I was shameless

To him I was a temptress

He’d never felt the need to possess

Whispered in my ear, ‘You’re an enchantress’

But, my love, don’t you know how much I obsess

Over the tenderness of your caress?

Poured some green tea over vanilla ice cream

That’s what he tasted like in my dream

Dressed myself in velvet

By his warmness I’m enveloped

Close to my heart, I held a green garnet

He’s loveliness incarnate

Young love in the rose garden

And blunt kisses in a forgotten heaven

He’s bittersweet

And I can taste on his tongue sweet defeat

‘Without you, I’m lost,’

He said, covering the flowers in frost

‘By your charm I’ve been ensorcelled,’

He whispered in the light of the chandelle

As he placed in my hair an immortelle

‘Don’t you ever leave me

I’ll set fields ablaze for you

I’ll kneel before you

I’ll chase you down the prairie’

Held me like I was going anywhere

As if I wasn’t meant to pull his hair

And tell him, ‘My sweet, I wouldn’t dare

Aren’t you aware

That without you, I despair?

I’ll tear down everything I own

Just to keep our affair sound

So care for me, don’t leave me alone’

And I felt his stare on me

A glare of mantis green

Oh, I’ve no wish to fight

Come, devour me alive

And in this tragic, starless night

Perhaps he’ll know of my plight

Because he set my soul alight

With deep green flames too bright

Spilled his passion over me with a might

That could only translate into delight

My calls to him like a prayer trite

And in the magic, godless blight,

Still the lust ignites

His long hair slips between my fingers

And I know that, for this, I’m a sinner

But he’s so much, so much bigger

The velvety darkness vibration lingers

In his hold my soul shivers

And my body can’t find slumber

So from the corner of my eye I find his figure

Tall as a tower

What a gorgeous man I’ve got

Somehow the night illuminates him

And I, unmoving

Can only stare back as eyes of peridot

Work their entrancing,

Ravishing

Charm

Eyes of adamantine green

Make me think of dreams obscene

The sheen in them took me out of this spleen

But I got lost all over again in his ravine

In the ruins he told me I’m his queen

His bed is sanctuary palatine

Where our essences entwine

He fed me the sour fruits of grapevine

He said I was sweet as wine

My dear, it’s all moonshine

I can see my face in the saturnine

Look of your eye

Come, I’ll swallow your pride

Piercing lightning in his gaze

Just that puts me in my place

And my thoughts race

To rêveries of strong arms’ embrace

And fingers enlaced

Where I’m worthy of his grace

He’d indulge me and my desire

Because the moon knows I’d suck a man dry

Of all his love and energy

He’s greedy as I am needy

No one’s ever handled me so gently

And talked to me so sweetly

So you see, I’m yours completely

Stab me with that spindle

And let me do to you the unspeakable

Strong hands carefully holding his belongings

For fear of them breaking

Were he a little bit more self-aware

He’d become afraid of himself

But I love when he shows off his strength

Crack it good, darling

Won’t you open this jar for me?

You don’t have to take all these bags in one go

Say, can you pick up this box?

Move the shelf? A bit more to the left?

Get my bike upstairs?

Carry me in your arms?

Drunk on him, I feel insane

Moonstruck, unveil the curtain

Loving him, sealed my fate remains

Worshipping him, a deal is made again

Treasure, cherish, contain this ethereal

Loss of sense

Threw up the depths of hell

And I still feel so, so unwell

He has me under a spell

And I shan’t be saved by the holy bell

And I don’t want to be freed

I know that he loves me

For his glory, I’ll bleed

I know that he needs me

I don’t care where this spinning wheel will lead

I know that he wants me

The lines of his body are my creed

On my knees, it is he to whom I plead

For him I’ll offer myself as sacrifice

For him I’ll go through supplice

For him it feels like paradise

My beloved won’t ever pay the price

For his vice

And if you told me my man was a beast

I wouldn’t be disappointed in the least

Just wait until his fury is unleashed

Those who preached will see themselves pierced

Those who resist, dismissed

For he is fierce

And the moon herself shall be eclipsed

So me, blissed-out hedonist

In the midst of his firestorm

I admire the back that raven wings adorn

I’ve never seen misery look so majestic

And agony seem so poetic

He’s calamity of a mystique

So prophetic

Cathartic

A catastrophe almost narcissistic,

The despair in his voice melodic

And he stands tall despite it all

I’ve never seen repulsion look so regal

And revulsion seem so graceful

Come here, my prince, it’s okay

No one knew it would end that way

We’ll live to see another day

And even as judgement is underway

I’ll cherish you in our eden of decay

Don’t feel bad; now no one will dare betray

The one they ought to obey

Those who are weak of mind fear beauty

They deem it evil

It’s not your fault, honey

You like my naïveté, you say

Well, I like your voracité

In an eternal January he let go of his cage

And history turns the page

In an eternal tyranny commences a new age

Someday our love will be tale of old

All over the land our love will be told

But for now, let us brave the cold

Steal the sun and absorb the blue skies

Unveil the lies they foretold

And from snowy rose petals, rise

See, fate has set the stage for us

So come, Malleus

Don’t be afraid, Malleus

Let me put you hair in a braid

Let me dip you in honey

Let me prove how much I love you

I’ll tell you in french, too

Si tu savais à quel point coule la cyprine

Mets ta main sur ma poitrine

Laisse moi partager mes envies

Laisse moi voler tes tentations enfouies

Dans les profondeurs de ton âme assombrie

Jusqu’aux lueurs de l’aurore

Quand les cieux seront amétrine;

Le feu se fond à la nuit

L’amour est enivrant quand tu es en moi

N’aie pas peur; donne-moi ton émoi

Savoure mes caprices assouvies

Ton ardeur ne fait qu’éveiller ma foi

Dans ta chevelure de soie obscure je me noie

N’aie pas peur; partage ma joie

La chaleur de ton corps oublie la loi

Laisse-toi te perdre en moi

Je sais, tu tuerais pour moi

Quelle torture qu’est ta voix

Si douce et si intense

Me réduit au silence

Tu es ma providence

Trouve ton bonheur dans mon impuissance

Et dans mon déshonneur ta douce sentence

Dans le ciel ton éclair de la délivrance

Verse ses étincelles dans ma chair

I said come here, Malleus

Decus marmoreus

Venus melleus

Dominatus malus

You got me speaking fucking broken latin

[inkweaver22-blr]

So! I failed in finishing a chapter in time for my birthday! But I did make some progress and might have cleared some of the cobwebs from not writing in so long. So instead of a full chapter, here's what I have written so far for Chapter 2 of Tangerine Fur and Fraying Trust! (You can read Chapter 1 here.) Enjoy!

----------

Normally, the flower would have hardly seemed strange and would receive nothing more than a passing glance. The disc shaped bloom with its layers of long, thin petals that curved slightly upwards were rather typical for its species. Even its bright orange shade was nothing unique. Just one of the many colors and varieties that had been cultivated over the centuries. Walking through any garden or park or forest would result in passing by hundreds of examples of this type of flower. Truly, it was a rather common sight that usually drew no further attention beyond a fond look over its simplistic beauty.

Which made this specific specimen stand out all the more with how it had sprouted from the rather inhospitable desert earth.

Macaque scowled down at the flower and resisted the urge to kick sand at it. Along with the ruined RV they had been driving, the plant was the only sign of Wukong’s little band of heroes ever being there. Swallowed by a tunnel that no longer seemed to exist. That was certainly not how he had expected things to go.

There was actually quite a bit that didn’t go as planned. He had been surprised at catching up with the group as quickly as he had. Perhaps he should have put in a bit more effort into being ‘delayed’ by The Dragon of the East. Still, he been given a task and he would do his best to make it look like he was going all out to complete it.

He had expected Wukong to face him after destroying their only mode of transportation. His recent injuries along with Macaque’s own boost of power from his captor would have put them on nearly equal footing. Certainly enough for him to put on a good show before they managed to pull something off and escape. The frustration he felt when he saw the arrogant monkey simply sitting there in a meditative trance was almost enough to make him actually try. Almost.

He knew Wukong’s successor was out the fight for the foreseeable future due to have his powers drained. Without anyone to put up a decent resistance, he’d been unsure if he’d be able to convincingly allow them to get away this time. Luckily for Macaque, the dragon girl provided another avenue of approach. She was strong, he’d give her that. But she was unrefined. The potential for a fierce warrior was there, but she relied on brute force with no skill to back it up.

It was childishly easy to toy with her. His own recently increased power combined with his experience would allow him to outlast her. He would let her exhaust herself in an effort to ‘demoralize’ the group so they wouldn’t put up much of a fight when he captured them. In truth, he knew Wukong’s successor tended to pull victories out of nowhere when backed against a wall. Especially when those he cared about were in danger. All he had to do was mess the dragon girl long enough for the kid to pull himself together and blindside Macaque with something unpredictable.

At least Macaque could honestly say that he would have never had predicted what happened next.

The flower pulsed faintly as the magic that summoned it slowly began to fade. While it seemed unaffected by the harsh sun beating down on them, once the magic was gone it would certainly begin to wilt. Although with how densely saturated with Life the magic felt, Macaque would not be surprised if this spot would become a vibrant oasis in a few years time.

Macaque checked the compass Lady Bone Demon had enchanted once more. It was meant to always point towards what she desired. In this instance, Wukong and his successor. Just like the last time he checked a few minutes ago, the needle spun wildly, unable to pinpoint them. Wherever that tunnel had taken them, it was heavily protected. The wards required to hide a location from such a ruthless tracking spell as this were old and powerful.

Old. Powerful. Two words that just a few hours ago he would have never associated with the unassuming and somewhat annoying scholar. Yet he himself knew how appearances could be deceiving. Even while distracted with the dragon girl, Macaque had felt it when the scholar had dropped his human guise. The burst of dense magic had been so surprising he failed to dodge out of the way of the stone that had been summoned to trap his mech. He could have easily broken free, had it not been for the magical sealing chains immediately placed upon the stone.

Macaque shuddered at the abilities the scholar utilized with relative ease. You could tell a lot about your opponent by the way they fought. Physical combatants relied on weapons or their bodies to fight, with many having a few magical tricks up their sleeve. Casters flung spells to alter the battleground around them to their advantage and support their allies from a distance. Elementalists manipulated a single element, with those who truly master the style becoming forces of nature unto themselves.

Mastering any one of these styles took a lifetime of dedicated practice and experience. Mastering multiple was not possible for most normal mortals. Macaque himself was a shadow elementalist first and a physical combatant second. Casting was something he only recently added to his fighting skill set in the last couple centuries or so, and even then he wouldn’t say he had mastered it yet. Before his boost in magic at the cost of his freedom, he simply was not powerful enough to use it to its full potential.

The scholar had shown no such difficulty when sealing him in place. It wouldn’t surprise Macaque if he was also a master physical combatant on top of his apparent elemental and casting prowess. Yes, only the old and powerful could boast such a range of ability and skill.

Macaque stuffed the compass back into his robe and turned away from the flower. He frowned as he made his way back towards his air bike. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He couldn’t track down his targets and would have to wait until they left whatever sanctuary they had literally fallen into. He refused to simply stand in this blasted desert and get heat stroke while doing so. Yet he had nowhere to go. Going back to the city empty handed was not an option.

There was also the problem of what to do about the scholar once the group finally resurfaced. Macaque liked to be kept abreast of important events and beings throughout the magical community, both locally and abroad. Had to make sure that the places he traveled to were safe or should be avoided after all. He had learned many things and met many beings that he still kept in contact with so they could pass on any useful bits of information.

So what could he piece together about the scholar? He wasn’t human. He was actually some sort of rabbit-like being. It was impossible to tell if he was a demon or a celestial or a spirit from their short interaction. He was a master elementalist and spell caster. The way the earth leapt to his command and the swiftness and strength of the sealing chains he cast implied a fairly large amount of power. He was almost certainly quite old. One did not become so skilled in less than several millennia worth of practice. He could summon tunnels in the earth that were not there before and that would vanish without a trace the moment they closed. Teleporting was a rather common skill, but this was something Macaque could hardly imagine being possible. The only sign of his passing was single flower which had sprouted where the tunnel closed despite the infertile desert sand. It was also saturated with Life energy which wold likely seep into the surrounding area.

Macaque had traveled the world and learned about many different beings. Gods. Demons. Spirits. In all his wanderings, he had never heard of anyone who could do what the scholar had. No one normal, that is. There were exactly two beings on the entire Earth that matched the scholar’s physical description and were rumored to have similar abilities. If the scholar was one of those beings, then things had just become much, much more complicated.

He could handle Wukong, the kid, and even the dragon girl with ease due to his boost. In a pinch he might even be able to fend off all three at the same time. But if the scholar was indeed who he was thinking of, he and his famous allies would overwhelm Macaque easily. He would not stand a chance against their combined power alone. Lady Bone Demon would not give him the choice, however. So he would be forced to at least attempt to fight them.

At least he would no longer have to pretend to be going all out.

On the other hand, if they were to become involved, his chances of breaking free had increased significantly. Heroes like them tended to have bleeding hearts that could easily be manipulated. He could probably even get away with just telling them the truth and they would jump at the chance to ‘rescue’ him. With their combined knowledge and resources being much larger than his own, there would be no doubt they could find a way to break the icy grip on him.

He would then, of course, slip away and let them deal with Lady Bone Demon. He was not a hero, thank you very much, and had no desire to go against her. Things had gotten too eventful, even for him. Perhaps a trip to Europe would be in order once he was free.

He would have to play his cards very carefully in order to not draw any suspicion from her until then. Any opportunity that presented itself would have to be seized if this was to work. Thankfully he was a brilliant improv actor. Macaque was confident he would be able to play any situation that arose by ear and come away from it on top.

Pausing next to his air bike, Macaque took in a deep breath to focus his thoughts. He knew what he was up against now. His chances at breaking free were much better. He just needed to keep Lady Bone Demon from catching on. He could do this.

Macaque let out his breath, and blinked in surprise when came out in a visible puff of vapor. A shiver went down his spine as he realized the temperature had plummeted, feeling more like a chilly Winter night than the middle of a Summer day. He spun around, his heart pounding when he discovered that he was surrounded by a thick, white fog that obscured everything around him. Faint whispers could be heard muttering just outside his range of hearing, which given how exceptional that range was, only heightened his anxiety.

There was currently only one person he knew who could be responsible for the sudden drastic change in environment, and Macaque couldn’t help the pit of fear that formed. He could only hope she was here for some other reason than having caught on to his ruse.

“It seems you are having trouble following orders,” Lady Bone Demon’s voice emanated from all around. “I do believe I instructed you to capture them, not play with them.”

Shit.

[evilblr]

You wouldn't turn someone into a bug as a cruel, ironic punishment for someone who got too arrogant, and grind their insignificant self under your heel?

HAH! What you call "evil" is garden-variety mischief!

You’re just jealous that my enemies go on to learn a lesson and do better by me.

[hydraschaos]

— BASICS

Name: Narcisse Le Blanc Age / D.O.B.: 37; March 17th Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis woman, she/her, & pansexual Hometown: Champagne, France Affiliation: The Table Job position: Art Dealer/Assassin Relationship status: Taken Children: None Positive traits: ambitious, charming, intelligent, perceptive, observant Negative traits: cynical, manipulative, vindictive, arrogant

Narcisse was born in a modest family, not overflowing of luxuries but never something missing from their table, nor for their daughter. The Le Blanc family focused on work, but with a growing ambition that kept pushing them forward, looking to give the best to their little princess. She was the light of her father's eyes, and the joy of her mother's life. A lively child, spoiled in most everything she wanted.

They lived and worked in a small vineyard, producing wine in no big enough quantity to reach further than the little town it resided in, but good enough to keep the people content and consuming. The family that owned it, an old couple that had bared no children often treating them like family. But it wasn't enough for Baptiste, who wished to make the vineyard grow, take their riches to higher grounds. Who wished to fulfill his daughter's every wish.

The gardens just off the side of the main house was large, a variety of roses, his daughter enjoyed to play in when her mother was tending to it. And full of unique flowers that they studied with dedication and care. It had been easy for Léonie to carve her way into the couple's heart, and Narcisse had been just as charming. A gift of a granddaughter they never got to have. An heir to pass down their lands when they were to leave this earth. After that, it had been a matter of patience, one that was easily reached after months of tending to the delicacy of the grape for a well done wine. For the effects of the poisons carefully mixed by Léonie, sweetly delivered by Narcisse in cups of teas and fresh juice, to take effect on the lovely couple.

The bodies were found and the ambulances were called but for a small town it had been but the natural course of life and the exhaustion of old age that came from years of hard work. The vineyard legally theirs and an open sea of opportunities had Baptiste thriving with what could be. And through her parents, Narcisse easily discovered the power behind charm and carefully picked words, compliments were a weapon almost as efficient as the poisons flowers could make.

Narcisse was witness as her parents's dream materialized before their eyes. And the small vineyard was soon joined by another, and another. Buying lands to expand the plantation, focusing on the grape that'd help produce the one their land had grown to be known for and building Wineries to increase the production. Getting rid swiftly and subtly of everyone that might pose an obstacle in their way. She was taught from a young age to go after what she wanted, get what she thought should be hers with firm hands, and a charming smile. Never to settle, never to let anyone get in her way.

Developing a taste for art through all of this, her parents agreed to let their daughter move to Paris, pursue a career she adored without having to worry about nothing but pleasing herself. And for a moment, she had all but forgotten about her parents doings, and the blood that never reached their fingers but still dripped from their hands. But a life of teachings was hard to forget, and the ambition was in her as much as the need to get rid of anyone who might stand in her way.

She was nineteen when she first killed on her own. Following the example her mother had set, subtlety was key and by the next week, the body of the professor who had dared disrespect her had been found in his apartment with anything but a few petals of the flowers he had inside. It had been as easy as breathing, she found. And as the years passed, it just got easier. Often changing the flowers and carefully mixed concoctions for sharpened knives she started to get a delight in.

It was only after she graduated at twenty-two, that Narcisse heard of The Table. And the control it exercised over most of the underworld. A carefully organized chaos that she found herself drawn to. It had been easy choice to start working under it. Almost as easy as her first kill. Narcisse found herself living a life she was most comfortable in, wholly dedicating herself to her art most of the day, and delighting herself in the contracts she received every other night. A world of creativity opened before her.

She was twenty-five when this perfect balance was shattered and her world changed in a way Narcisse had never expected. Meeting the woman that would steal her heart and later break it. Hurt and Angry, Narcisse had returned to Champagne, to her parents, where she stayed for close to two years, taking comfort in their loving embrace and enjoying the riches of the bubbly drink her parents produced. From there, she traveled to other countries, diving into her art and the contracts she'd get.

She had been living back in her old apartment in Paris for two years, when the news of Fracasso reached her ears. And even if the death meant no more to her than the next one, it worked as enough of an excuse to finally go to London.

[nothorses]

hi! i’ve seen your longer posts on lgbtq+ community, and as someone younger, i’d love to here your opinion on this. i think there’s a trend of the internet where we’ve all “reclaimed” and “normalized” stuff like fruity and limp wrist etc. and often times incorporate queer slang into our online posting, and it’s co-opted by straight people because the queerness has been stripped away from it. what’re your thoughts about that? my main conflict is this: there are terms like “babygirl” or other feminine terms that people use for their favourite male fictional characters or male celebrities they like. and there’s a constant debate about how this mislabeling of cis people is harmful. first of all, i don’t agree that you can mislabel cis people. furthermore, i feel like just like how some queer slang has been normalized, terms like babygirl etc have been stripped of their original meaning which meant feminine. also, a lot of queer people, myself included, who’re not chronically online don’t really care about such discourse. plus, older queer people often subscribe to terms or identities that the internet would say is politically incorrect. so, personally i feel like it’s inconsequential to actual queer issues. but i wonder if i’m wrong in not being bothered by this. i’d love to know your opinion. (even though this ask seems a little all over the place.)

tbh I think you're getting at a couple of different issues:

Straight people "co-opting" reclaimed slurs against queer people because either a) reclamation has made them no longer queer-specific, or b) "co-opting" from outsiders has made them no longer queer-specific.

People taking issue with referring to folks with gendered terms that do not apply, i.e., "babygirl"- your belief being that a) these terms are no longer gendered (through gender-agnostic use), and b) cis people cannot be misgendered.

In general, I don't really think meaning can be "stripped" from a word the way you seem to imply. I do think that words will shift in meaning and collective understanding over time, but this is definitely a longer and less tidy process than what you're talking about here.

People who have been personally targeted by "fruity" and "limp-wristed" are not forgetting those experiences when 16 year olds on TikTok use the words without understanding what they mean. "Babygirl" does not become less painfully gendered to trans men just because you have seen a lot of internet posts using the word to refer to cis men.

I don't really think straight people should be joining in on the "fruity" and "limp-wristed" jokes; I also don't think policing those folks does anyone any good. We don't necessarily know every random internet person's personal history or intentions, and it's not our place to make assumptions or demand explanations. But we can, imo, still spread information and encourage introspection.

People who think they can make those kinds of jokes despite not being a part of the target demographic are usually doing it because they don't agree with those views, and they're arrogant and presumptuous about how they think those views exist or don't exist today- usually because they're young and lack that lived experience. They can learn, and probably want to.

I think we should also apply that to folks using "babygirl" the way you're describing. And I think folks shouldn't be using "babygirl" that way, either. First because you don't know anyone's personal history, you don't know for sure whether random internet strangers are cis or trans, and it absolutely does feel like misgendering to a lot of trans people (myself included!).

Second because cis people absolutely can be misgendered. They can also experience gender dysphoria. They typically don't, because the way society perceives them aligns with the way they perceive themselves, but when we use that as justification for targeting them with shit we already understand to be cruel to trans people, we're really just engaging in garden-variety transphobia in new and exciting ways.

And third because gendering men as women/girls is an extremely common and extremely damaging joke meant to uphold and reinforce gender expectations. Men are compared to women/girls because emasculation is a punishment under misogyny. Applying that punishment as frequently and randomly as possible doesn't mean you are no longer reinforcing that system by engaging in the punishments it uses.

Reclamation is also… not "stripping meaning" from words. I'm not 100% sure that was the implication, but just in case: reclamation is about changing the negative connotation of a slur to a more neutral or positive connotation. "Queer" still means what it always has- but the connotation of the word is now, in at least some mouths, less "you're a freak who I hate", and more "I am proud to be this", or even just "this is a group of people that exists".

This is long enough already, but basically: words do have meaning, we can acknowledge when people are using them maliciously or just ignorantly, and we can talk about that. But don't assume you know everything about anyone- their identities, their experiences, their emotions, their intentions, or anything else. Don't assume you know why someone is using a word a certain way, and give folks the benefit of the doubt unless they prove themselves to be taking advantage of it.