#ethics revision is going well

[leebee287]

[gynandromorph]

another little nofna style emulation comic i drew a bit ago that was primarily about why something can "look like words" when it isn't... it is possibly Legend's first time considering the involuntary nature of reading words. she can rationally know that she isn't looking at writing, but her mind continues to see words that she must try to decipher.

the comic ended up getting side-tracked, but i kind of just let these comics go where they go. it is the nofna spirit.

PS and Legend have probably only spoken several times at this point, as classmates. in my head, this is their first season of classes, and they have only just recently proceeded from practicing handwriting and making letters to writing out spoken word.

i imagine that letters and writing are not intuitive at all to people who haven't grown up with it. Legend knew how to read well before entering school. PS has not really internalized that letters represent sounds. she has seen her teacher or classmates speak words as they're writing lines, and later, other people can tell the words that were spoken while writing the lines. her penmanship is naturally excellent, and prior to this module, she was praised by her teacher lavishly.

i imagine that because MOST RODENTS become markscrafts, and rodents tend to be rather... prolific... in number. that classes for this profession would be fucking huge.

the teacher cannot individually dedicate attention to every struggling student, so the first practice is to pair two struggling students together who seem like they compensate each others' shortcomings and see if they can rehabilitate their grades together.

if students continue to fail despite peer review, that is probably the time where a teacher would talk to them privately or recommend a tutor, etc.

the classes also function by a "revise and resubmit" principle over an "extra credit" principle as it is the most direct way for students to figure out what they did wrong and the least amount of extra work for the professor.

their professor is a mouse; a tried to write the grade print small (called "mouseprint" in the canon).

PS's language here is very rough and strange; i imagine she has, at the VERY most, been exposed to common for only a year. she is maybe ~15-16 in age, psychologically. ever since i made her as a character, i assumed one of her core traits was a low drive to do work. she became a markscraft SPECIFICALLY because she did not want to put in the work to earn prestige or more credit. she picked the easiest possible career for her.

as a younger mind, and only recently introduced to the idea that she has to perform labor or GTFO society, her dislike of work is very obvious and she is not reserved about sharing it. she came from a life where she could volunteer to do small tricks for high value treats if she felt like it, and this life is comparatively brutal and demanding in her mind.

Legend's corsage is red star (Rhodohypoxis baurii) and PS's Leaf is a leaf from a large pineapple lily.

Legend is, conversely, probably 18-20 psychologically. idk, the ages are very weird with these animals. i've imagined her parents as highly Civilized people like XX's mother, but a little less strict. while many citizens of society hate wild people (presumably because many of them are serial killers who might serial kill them), not all of them do (example: nutsedge, who sympathizes with a Wild Hawk killing her classmates), and i imagined Legend's parents impressing into her rather strongly that she did not earn being born into a well-off family and physically gifted species.

of course, this didn't stop her from forming a superiority complex towards rodents anyway-- but, i think she's tolerating a significant amount of Weirdness from PS here that she extremely would not tolerate from someone she didn't assume was wild-integrating-into-society, from the constant touching, to the rude openness, the disdain for work ethic, the odd language usage, and the outfit that's essentially showing up to the study session in pasties and booty shorts.

it seems that in these stories, the animals attain a "fluent" level of speech in common relatively quickly (emancipation, secretary), somewhat influenced by natural talent; i think PS has a brute force spaghetti-against-the-wall approach that lets her just mimic as many phrases that she thinks are novel as possible. usually this is an option only available to toddlers who lack the self-awareness to feel embarrassment about constant awkward linguistic mistakes, but PS also has no cultural priming to be embarrassed of the behavior. you can see her parroting various things she's heard, such as "sooo much" as an emphasis phrase, and even "essentially" after Legend says it in passing. other more abstract phrases such as "with credit" or "okay" i imagine she knows simply by being exposed to them over and over again.

when the two get into deeper levels of literacy and markscraft classes, i imagine that Legend's knowledge of grammar and Big Words in general, combined with an ability to verbally express usually unwritten rules in the language, helped propel PS to a level of fluency that has her speaking like she was raised with it 99% of the time.

[caramelcleopatraa]

First Appointment (Suit & Tie Revised)

Word Count: 1.9k

x: this fic idea won in the polls :) this series was inspired by kayjayxchar on wattpad ( she's A1 ) and then while writing, I decided to make this into sort of a series. no smut in this part ( I know I know, its such a tragedy! ) but don't underestimate what I got in the works :p not proofread... yet

xx: hello :) new caramel typing here. I wanted to revisit this series and fix it up now since I've written more work since I started this. Now enjoy the New and Revised SUIT & TIE <3

Content: Mafia!Roman Reigns x Designer!Reader, fluff, suggestive themes ( gets a lil steamy ;) ) 18+ Minors Do Not Interact!!

Your fingers type away at your computer, responding to emails from your clients. Your employees are setting up the shop, quickly preparing for another busy day. You were one of the top rated designers in the state of Florida. You’ve been able to travel around the country teaching classes, working your magic for top notch celebrities, and make public appearances. To cut it short, you were living your best life, truly. You got to do what you were passionate about and go against the standard of your families’ traditions and values. And to your surprise, they still supported you. You were proud of yourself that you are successful as you are. There was too much work that you have done to downplay your status, work ethic, and talent.

The chime of your door occupies your attention as a group of people walk in before opening time.

“Wassup biiiiiittch!” One of your closest friends, Trinity, was the first to make herself known. She throws herself on you, and you welcome her sudden embrace. She often visited you at your shop to check on you in her free time, and you always welcomed her company, especially on busy days. Today however, was one of those days where she was coming to you as a client. Because she was your friend and today was one of your busiest days, you told her to come an hour and a half early before you opened. That gave you plenty of time to fit your friends, clean up, and open on time. You scan the group that entered through the door with her. You saw Trinity, her husband Jimmy, his twin Jey and his wife Talia. Your eyes shifted to the larger man that stood behind them, that was accompanied by a shorter, voluptuous woman. It was someone you knew too well. Anyone that lived in Florida had to know his name. Roman Reigns. standing next to him, was what looked like a model. She looked too familiar, and you swore you've seen her somewhere, but you couldn't call it at the moment. The group of six admired your shop, casually walking around and scouting different designs that were displayed on the walls. 

Men’s Side

Women’s Side 

“No matter how many times I come in here, I'm always shocked. Is this new?” Jey says, pointing to the gray suits on your model displays. You knew he would gravitate to those pieces as soon as you came up with the idea a month ago. He always liked black and gray when it came to suits. “Yeah, new in stock. Ya like it?” You sing shakily as Trinity rocked you to death. “Can I take this off ya hands?” “You can after i fit you” You chuckled at his eagerness.

“Anyways..” Talia says, pushing her way through Jimmy and Jey. “This is Roman. I told him that I know a really good designer that can whip up an amazing suit. So he’s here to get fitted as well as the rest of us.” Talia explains to you, looking up in his direction to find him already staring at you. You notice his chocolate brown eyes and brown skin that complimented each other. You try your best to not let that distract you as you reach your hand towards him. You didn’t think he would shake your hand at all. Cold and Dismissive. The two words that would always get thrown around when Roman's name was mentioned.

But he subverted your expectations. You contentedly grinned when his warm hand engulfed yours. “Nice to meet you, beautiful” “Nice to meet you too, handsome.” His voice was smooth and calming. On top of his charming attitude. The perfect voice to coerce someone into doing something illegal. ‘oh my god he’s fine... how am i supposed to stay professional around this man...’

Still, your poker face stayed true as you continued to engage with your client. His partner stayed close to him, latched on at the arm. Almost child like. She pulled on his arm to get his attention, but he simply dismissed her by saying, “Wait over there for me sweets”, and she happily obliged. 

“So how does this whole thing work?” He says, tugging at his black tee. “You’ve never gotten fitted here before and my place runs a little differently than most. We have our scheduled appointments set up so that we can fit our clients, try on potential outfits for you, and send you home with them hours later. There’s a huge inventory that I have attached to this store so as soon as I get done recording your requests, we can get your order started as soon as possible. Any questions?”

Roman smiles smugly and looks at Talia. “She’s good.” Talia retaliates with “I told you so.” You smiled at their comments. To you, it didn’t seem like much. You were simply explaining how your company works so that your client has a basic rundown of how things work. Trinity nudged your shoulder as soon as she noticed your flustered state. You covered your face and did a quick spin, a little habit that formed when you get flustered. The group laughed at your small action. You snapped back into business mode and called your assistant to help you distribute the party of five.

“Aahkilah, can you help me with this party of five?”

 “Coming!” She galloped out to the main area with a work outfit that was damn near cutting dress code, but you didn’t have time to deal with that shit right now. “You can take the couples since they have been fitted before. Be flexible enough to make changes on the spot if our presets don’t fit like they’re supposed to. I’ll take Roman and do the whole process since he’ll be new information in the system.” She was fairly new, and you didn’t trust her just yet with doing an entire fitting appointment on a new client. Plus, you could tell everything that you were saying was going over her head as she basically eye-fucked Roman. Absolutely no work would be done. “But that’s not fairrrruuh! why can’t I take him?” she says, almost mimicking a complaining child. Your eyes close slowly as you sigh and respond, “Because you’re not ready to give a full fitting appointment yet.” 

You wanted to put a nail in this conversation so you could do your job. But, this woman had a damn mission. “You just wanna get him in your private fitting room and fuck him!! You’re not slic-"

“He came here for a fitting! A fitting done by me girl! Please don’t make me have to deal with a child right now.” You were starting to get loud, so you didn’t go back and forth with her like you usually would to whip that bitch into shape. The twins were barely succeeding at hiding their laughter as well as Talia. Roman and Trinity wore smirks on their faces as you reprimanded Aahkilah. She finally buckled down and made sure that the room was ready for the couples. You called in another employee, Gio, to help you with your workload online while you fit your client.

“Oh my god who is that-“ You hit her and stop her sentence and she looks at you like you're crazy. “What!? He’s fine as fuck!” You mentally facepalm as she tries to whisper to you, that ends up more like a whisper scream. “Mhm” You said, as you went behind your desk and pulled up some work for her to do. Sadly, you couldn't stop her when she got to talking. “Oh don’t tell me you don’t think he’s fine! isn’t he right up your alley? Tall? muscular? deep voice? beard? The whole nine?” You took pride in the fact that you took time to know your employees on a personal level and vice versa. You did not think she was going to air out all of the information you told her however. You gave Gio a look that screamed ‘shut the FUCK up’ and she responded to your look by playfully rolling her eyes. You turn the computer towards her. “You’re here to get a bag, not play matchmaker” She groans in response and says “Whatever.” to your dismissive comment. ‘she did not have to embarrass me like that. OMG WHAAT THE FU-‘

“The whole nine huh?” You hear a deep voice mirror your employee’s statement. You turn around to face Roman, the corner of his lips still curled into that mind melting smirk again. He motioned up and down his body, trying to fluster you. And it worked, as your eyes drift over his muscular body. “Little ole me?” ‘LITTLE?’ 

“Little?” Your face contorted into a confused expression, that earns a laugh out of the tall samoan. He starts to walk towards you, decreasing the amount of space between you too. Your momma ain’t raise no bitch so you stood your ground. Well, you tried. You could clearly distinguish the height difference between you and him, and your head raised as your eyes met his. Your hand rested on your hip and your head tilted, slightly sizing him up. “Sir, I will let you know that this is a professional business.” You said, ending off your sentence with an eyebrow raise. Just as you expected, he challenged you back, “Well I'm not invading your personal space, am I?” He said, letting his eyes drift over your body. Anyone in the room would have felt the tension and both of you were desperately waiting on someone to make a move. “Nah, i just don't want a wannabe gangsta playboy fucking up my reputation.” His eyes fluttered closed as he laughed at your statement. You had amused him and peaked his interest. He closed the gap between you two. His breath ghosted over your lips as he said, “So you must know i’m good at fucking something else up, huh?” His eyes glazed over your soft lips, coated with lip gloss. As much as your mind told yourself you had a job to do, his words you had you distracted. It was honestly embarrassing how quick he got you off course. But you wanted to entertain this a little bit. You took a moment to gather yourself before prompting another response. ”Well I wouldn't know cause it’s just rumors.” You shrugged your shoulders looking off to the side. 

“You know how those be.”

“Mhm” He licked his lips. From how close you guys were, you were surprised that his tongue didn't make contact with your bottom lip. “What they been saying about me ma?”

“That apparently you’re good in bed” You raised your pointer and middle fingers bent to imitate quotation marks.

“Mhm, keep going”

“Boy ion know, I really don't be concerned with you.” Your hand returned to your hip. Your attitude started to shine through. 

“Maybe it’s because I haven't taken care of you yet sweetheart” He leans down to whisper the sentence in your ear. You feel his lips lightly touch your ear and your entire body froze. 

You huffed, and said “You say that like you're so sure of yourself.” You challenged his boldness, but nothing could prepare you for what he said to you next.

“Maybe when we hit this fitting room, I can show you how sure I am”

🏷️ tags :) @hunnidmilly @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce

@theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen

@alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae

@fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove

@sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

@shes2real @pittieprincess22 @wrestlingprincess80

@msbigredmachine @sayyestoheav3nn @trippinsorrows @mzv11

@saintmagx @jstarr86 @pr3ttiesz @trentybenty @romansthrone

@scarlettnoir01 @tshepisho @rose-bliss @yana3sworld

@queeny23 @bebesobrielo @heauxvibez @amandairene88

@potatosackk

[galeorderbride]

Intimacy Prompt: #43!

43: falling asleep with their head in your lap

Thank you sm for the prompt request!!

I like the idea of post game Professor!Gale when he first starts teaching. Maybe full of self doubt over whether he’s a good teacher, feeling frustrated that his pupils aren’t understanding concepts right away (mostly blaming himself). And Tav just comforting him at their home. 

A shortie ft. Gale x tav (uses she/her pronouns but no physical descriptions). Fluffy cuteness, comfort and nothing more 😊 

Rating: T

Count: 1337 

…

Gale was always a man to pour over documents with immense detail, but tonight, he seemed to be studying the same page on repeat. Pen scratching against the paper to the point of tearing, the sound of him mumbling to himself. Gale usually took so much pleasure in hours of research, absorbed in the material, but not this time. He mumbled, perturbed by his own work as he’d scold himself under his breath. 

For the first few hours, Tav left him to his work, knowing he wouldn’t feel better until he completed the task. Until he missed dinner, even when she called for him. No matter how much work he had to do, he’d made a habit of joining Tav at the table. She watched the clock tick, waiting for his steps down the stairs as the plate of chicken and vegetable stew grew colder. She should’ve checked on him already, but ever the people pleaser, she didn’t wish to bother him while in focus. 

Finally, she got up from the table and took his bowl in hand, travelling up the narrow stairwell. If he didn’t come out to eat, she would go to him. 

The wooden door was closed tight, but unlocked. Tav knocked a few times before entering, saying, “Gale, my love, are you alright? Your soup is getting cold. I know my cooking isn’t quite as good as yours, but it can’t be that scary.” 

He replied through the door, voice muffled but obviously exhausted, “Sorry, Tav, would you mind putting it away for me and I can reheat it later? Forgive me, dear, I have more to do than I anticipated.” 

Unsatisfied with his response, Tav sighed and entered his study. His back faced her, seated at his desk by a large window, fresh snow tapping against the glass as the evening turned to night. Candlelight illuminated piles of parchment around him, dotted with ink smudges and overlapping line edits. A mug of green tea sat on the end, untouched and cold. At the centre of it all was Gale, her loving fiance, slumped over the cherrywood surface with his head in his hands. 

Tav approached him, standing behind his chair as she placed the bowl on the desk and brought her hands to his shoulders. Velveteen fabric softened against her touch, lowering herself down to kiss the crane of his neck. The tension in his muscles was palpable, yielding even to the lightest rub. His tired eyes met hers, nothing but tenderness in those dark, chestnut eyes in desperate need of nutrients. 

“Gale, what’s wrong? You look as though you’ve just discovered the darkest secret of Nessus,” Tav asked. 

“Perhaps I’d feel a little better if I did,” he said, voice husky from tiredness. “At least then I’d provide a bit of value somewhere.” 

Tav looked over at his work, deciphering the multiple revisions to see he wasn’t doing research, he was strategizing classroom discussion. Private tutoring sessions, patterns of abbreviations for illusory spells, even planned workshops focusing on specific incantations. All the ideas were scratched out, or little comments written on them like ‘stupid’, ‘no’ and ‘absolutely not’.

“Are you doing lesson plans?” She asked, unable to conceal the confusion in her voice. 

“Failing lesson plans,” he said. “My students aren’t responding well to my current teaching style. They aren’t understanding concepts, their spell performance is mediocre at best, and I can see their eyes glazing over when I give my lectures on the ethics of phantasmal casting.” 

Riveting stuff, truly. His fixations on magical concepts that could get him going for hours if one wasn’t careful. Part of why Tav fell so deeply in love with him, rare to find such passion for subjects. She remembered nights at camp, taking peace in listening to his current fascination at the time. The only solace to such a deadly adventure. But perhaps a bunch of young apprentices weren’t as rose-coloured. 

“Well, you’ve only just begun teaching, love. Maybe you just need to get to know your students a little more, see what they want to get out of the class before you write the next manual on workshopping,” Tav said. 

“Perhaps I’m just not as good a teacher as I thought,” he said, voice lowering into a sombre tone as he sighed, throwing the quill pen across the desk. 

Tav ran her hands from his shoulders up to the nape of his neck, beginning to play with his hair. She gave a cheeky grin,“Last time we talked about students, I recall you thinking it was all their fault for not understanding.” 

He chuckled, “I blame you. Showing me love and humility. Now all I can do is think I’m the problem.” 

“I’ll venture to feed your ego more,” she joked, “Come, let’s take a rest for a moment.” 

Hand-in-hand, Gale followed her to their shared bedroom. A warm fire crackled in the hearth, the scent of balsam and mint enlivening the room from a scented candle on the mantle. Snow fell harder now, forming into a windy current that would surely become a blizzard by bedtime. A perfect environment for calming comfort, as Tav helped Gale remove his shirt, leaving him in nothing but lounge pants. After Tav put her own nightgown on, they crawled into bed. 

Gale rested his head on Tav’s lap, tracing his fingertips across the bare skin of her legs. Meanwhile, her hands ran through his hair again, brushing through the fine strands of beautiful, brown hair speckled with streaks of grey. Tav nestled in the pleasant bliss of hearing his even breath, calming with every stroke across the side of his head. The beat of his heart against her skin, so gloriously alive. There was once a time when he was willing to let that human beat expire, and how far he’d come, now absorbed in her embrace, filled with endless love and compassion. Even if that meant there wasn’t much power. There was no need for it in a caring household like this. 

Little kisses tickled the top of her thighs, mixed with the graze of his beard sending her into a sleepy comfort. She could play with his hair all night if he asked, such a simple, delicate pastime that reminded her of just how much she adored him. 

“Hmm, if you keep doing that, I may just fall asleep, my love,” he said, voice already trailing. His words slowed every time he was fighting sleep, mind always on overdrive but his body couldn’t always keep up. 

“Rest on me, Gale. I don’t mind,” she said, in a gentle whisper. 

He adjusted his position, wrapping his arms around the leg he rested on as if her thigh was a teddy bear. Her other leg crossed over his bare back, their bodies tangled within each other. Tav hummed a light lullaby, her voice like medicine to Gale’s ears as all his stress washed away. All that remained was the sensation of smooth skin, her nurturing voice, and the peace of being enveloped in the embrace of his greatest, most cherished love. 

As she sang, his eyes grew heavy, muscles loosening to the magic of her compassionate hands. That irresistible weightlessness began to overtake him, every thought of self doubt beginning to fade to a tiny smile. The lure of her song was so strong, she might’ve been one of the harpies they encountered back at the Emerald Grove. Their life had changed so much since then. His personal songstress caressing him in their queen sized bed, downy sheets and feather pillows as their shelter rather than tents and rocky ground.  

“Tav…I love you,” he said, lulling slowly into a peaceful sleep. The tapping of snow against the window, the snap of flame, her voice, all sending him into a comforting slumber. 

“I love you Gale Dekarios,” she said, moving a final piece of hair behind his ears before he fell into a deep sleep, making her laugh as he let out a small, adorable snore.

[siriuslychessi]

Spotlight

For the August @jilychallenge

AO3 | FF

“I only have feelings for you because we’ve been acting as a couple on this show that we’ve grown up together on since we were eleven…I think…”

The words on the script made James’ palms sweat, he was not sure if in a good or bad way, he just felt the profuse sweating making the page stick to his skin and he did not like the sensation, the reaction to the words on the page felt foreign to him as he kept reading. 

“And are we sure this is where Gilderoy wants the show to go to?” James asked, hoping his voice was steady. He had had a few awkward moments while his voice was changing as he grew up in the show, but he was over it by now. He didn’t want the uneasiness to show in his voice. 

“Yes, he did a previous revision, but that remains the same, he checked with Albus as well.” Kingsley informed James, as the younger man took a pen from his pocket, clicking it a couple of times out of nerves and habit, before writing his own notes on the margins of the script. 

“Any directions from Dumbledore? Or is he just trying to play it by ear?” James asked, pausing in his notes to look at Shacklebolt. 

Kingsley shrugged, “At the moment he wants to see how it plays out, you two have been playing with these characters for a while now. You know them better than anyone.” he admitted, and James nodded. 

“Thank you,” James said absentmindedly, as Kingsley left to prepare for filming. He was still thinking about the words on the page, and the scene he would have to participate in sooner rather than later.

Being in a show since before your voice changed did a lot to impact a young boy’s life. Instead of school and classmates, you had private lessons and castmates that felt more like family than random people in a place of work. And that also meant that small grudges grew over time, or changed into something else entirely.

At the moment he was uncertain of how the grudges and feelings had evolved as he read the script in his hands.

James had to admit that acting was just about him getting his energy out, a way to express himself, and for his parents to keep him occupied. Or it was like that at the beginning. He never thought that he would make a career out of it, no one at 11 thinks of a job or the responsibility it carries, at least not like adults do. But the more he acted, the more he enjoyed it, and the better he wanted to be. 

He started taking his career more seriously, took acting lessons, asked a lot of questions on direction, and requested feedback from older actors and more experienced people in the industry. It was quite the change from his previous stance of ‘I’ll do it because it’s fun, besides no one would fire the cute main lead’. A change that many have seen as a positive improvement and actually welcome and encourage it. 

Sirius, his best friend in set and life, had found it annoying at first, James and him used to do a lot of shenanigans around set, and he always teased him for his new found work ethic. He had to admit that Sirius put little effort on the craft but was an amazing actor all the same, always brought emotion to the characters he played, however, was more passionate about their band than acting, and was always teasing James about his new purchased books and courses.

James had tried to share his interest with his best mate, and Sirius reluctantly had taken a few of the books with him. The teasing persisted but James could see Sirius’ curiosity spiking at new theories and techniques, even if the other man preferred to write lyrics than study lines.

Sirius was also privy, as was his other close friend Remus, about the difficulty to work with one Lily Evans. She was the co-star of the show, and had it out for James since day one when he tried to do a trick on a skateboard and managed to ruin her big-scene dress. James had never managed to outlive that. 

Their relationship had been odd from the start, Lily had decided that James was the worse person to step in the set, and the fact that they had so many scenes together didn’t help improve her perception, neither did the numerous pranks that James had played on her and her former friend Snape, who used to be part of the cast.

James had learned not to prank people over the years, or at least to be more conscious of the types of pranks that were done. But he believed the damage was done and his and Lily’s relationship was one that would only blossom on screen. 

However, that might be the nerves talking. Lily in reality had grown fond of the boys, especially after Snape left and he was not whispering how annoying the rest of the cast was. She managed to see how witty James was, Sirius' intelligence and knowledge of music and business, and Remus' interesting facts and inherited sweetness. She had grown fond of all of them, and she hoped that they could see that they had outgrown the annoying little children they all used to be. 

Not only because of the work, that was easier to do when everyone got along, but because she wanted to be friends with people she spent the majority of the time with. To have meaningful relationships that would last them more than just a set life. 

If James had bothered to go find Lily, instead of getting anxious about asking Sirius’ some questions regarding the upcoming scene, he would have seen that Lily was almost in the same predicament as him. Pondering on the words written on the pages, and how she felt about it. 

Lily read the whole episode again. According to the notes from the director, her character was nervous, which she wouldn’t even have to act at that point. She had been pacing in her trailer with the pages in hand since receiving them. Her and James’ character had always had a more friendly relationship, sometimes annoying each other, sometimes too close to believe that they were just part of the same friend group, and now, their relationship was going to define what they were. 

Lily was not sure how she felt about how definitive it all felt.

In all the time Lily had been in the show all she thought was making her family proud, her friends outside of the business proud, and to do a good job, because she understood how many little girls would feel related to her character and that felt like a huge responsibility but it made her excited to come to work every day. 

It was hard to go through puberty in a show that had mostly male actors, and where the one she thought was a close friend turned out to be creepy and not at all friendly. She had to deal with a lot, and she was thankful that she had Mary for most of it. But she knew that she had annoyed her best mate when talking about James. 

James had always been a topic for Lily, after all they had a lot of scenes together, but it had fluctuated from annoyance to friendship so much that her feelings were muddled and her thoughts waver from one side of her feelings to the other. She knew that going to Mary in these circumstances was not advisable, as her friend would probably tease again that she had always had a crush on Potter, just as much as the crush she had on Black on and off screen. 

Lily was not ready to deal with all of it. 

The lights on set made the chilly day of March feel toasty. Lily believed that the studio didn’t need the central heating with the hard lights on them. It was a miracle that the makeup stayed put under that heat, and it was the second time under the same lights that she felt like trembling from nerves. 

The first time she was eleven and it was her first big show, she had been wanting to prove herself with the network’s executives. She thought she would butch all her lines, and to be honest she could have given herself more space to mess up and enjoy. She was eleven, a few lines missed or misspoken would not be the end of the world. 

Yet, it felt like the world was ending. 

But then, there was this boy, with messy hair and thick glasses, that made everyone in the set laugh, and was apologetic about missing his queues, or even fidgeting with his hair, when he was not supposed to, it would be a mess for editing the show. 

And she was jealous, and furious that this boy could enjoy as much as he wanted, that he could be so casual when she was a mess. 

With time she learned that the tale that James’ messing with his hair meant he was nervous, and the jokes were half a tale too. He did enjoy making people having a good time, but they could be a distraction from how on edge he was. 

It took Lily a long time to learn these things about James, and the more she knew about him, the more she liked him. 

Which was why she was a mess right before the big scene. 

James grew from the thin little prat, to be a handsome young man. He still made silly jokes, and his hands stopped just as he was about to mess his hair, but his dedication to the job had changed. He was serious about the scenes, he made sure he got notes from the writer and the director; didn’t mind doing retakes when necessary, and was mindful that Lily would be in some of the shoots so he tried his best to stick to script. 

He also remembered the snacks she liked and always brought some to rehearsal, and was sure to warn her of any possible paparazzi on set. He always managed to remember her birthday, and her families’, and was always kind when her sister and her friends gushed to him on set. Something Lily really hated, but seeing him be attentive like that made her stomach twist in weird ways. 

Lily was not alone in her nerves. James was right there with her. 

Lily had been a constant in James’ life, either by scolding him or making him better. He didn’t know exactly when the little annoying girl had transformed into the gorgeous young woman that he had a crush on, but that was where they were at, and now they had a crucial scene together. A scene that was more personal than anything, and he was not sure that he liked that it happened in front of the cameras. 

As James stepped in position he remembered if he properly brushed his teeth, which he had; and he had eaten a mint as well. He tried to not think of how potent, or not, was his deodorant under the heavy set lights, and all in all he tried to be presentable not only for the job but for the scene.

“I guess we are doing this.” he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone. 

“We certainly are, Potter.” Lily replied with a smile, that made James’ nerves shake even harder. 

“Everyone ready, we’ll be rolling, so silence in the set!” James heard the voice of Kingsley in the background, but was focused on Lily’s green eyes, and the rose tinted lips that were glossed for the scene and the cameras. 

Lily looked back at him, her lips moving as if to say something. But James mind did not register any of what was being set, his mind focused on her lips and expression. 

“Matt?” he finally heard what Lily had said, it was the name of his character, the one that he had been playing for so long that he almost replied when he heard it. 

“I’m sorry, but what did you mean by that?” He knew what the line was, and Lily and himself had improvised in the past, knowing that stopping the take might delay the production more than just a tiny messed up line. 

“Well, how do you know it is me you fancy? I thought you were dating Nancy.” Lily’s voice carried, and James remembered the plot where their love triangle with Sirius’ character became even more complex. 

“I am not. I’m not dating anyone.” he sounded sincere because in reality he wasn’t, there was no one he wanted to date but his co-star, but he knew she didn’t like him that way. However, just for a moment he could pretend that these were not the characters talking. “There’s no one else, it’s you, Audrey, it’s always been you.” 

For a brief moment James wished that it was Matt, the character, the person saying those words, but himself, to Lily, wonderful and gorgeous Lily. 

That moment passed quickly as her eyes pressured him to move forward, not to stop and continue with the scene. And he did. 

James’ hands moved on their own accord wrapping themselves on Lily’s waist and pulling her closer. He felt her breath on his cheek and her green eyes on him, as if the universe was telling him that his wish of this being a kiss between them was coming true. 

He let his body continue, his nervous thoughts forgotten as his lips touched Lily’s. 

Lily’s arms wrapped around his neck, and her hands moved to his hair, grabbing hold of his nape, keeping him close as her lips reciprocated whatever he was giving.

She tasted like cherry lip gloss and something sweet like vanilla and apple tart. 

He tasted like mint and those dark chocolates he was always snacking during takes.

Lily’s apple shampoo and her flowery perfume mixed with James’ senses, as James’  musky scent made her want to pull him closer and taste more of his lips and feel more of his body. 

They were in their own little world, a perfect kiss, for the perfect culmination of a career, but more so, for better expressing exactly what one felt for the other.

Neither of them wanted it to end. 

Yet they were not alone, and a repetitive “Cut!” could be heard from somewhere near them, pulling them back to earth. 

“Way to go Prongs!” James heard Sirius say. 

The whole set bursted laughing, including the couple. 

One thing was sure, they no longer were only castmates.

[satorugojowidow]

The original blog who screenshotted and shared this here has disabled the reblog so I'm going to repost in order to try to navigate the racism that is underneath this tweet.

About the claim of this tweet there is nothing more to say that the comparison is unacceptable not only because it lacks of any logic but also because trivialize the monstrosity of what genocide represent. Genocide is only equivalent to genocide, as the propaganda is an fundamental axis that allows genocide, its is a constitutive part of it. Nothing is equivalent or can be compared. This person is trivializing the genocide to people of Palestine while doing this comparison. Insult the victim with the only goal to make a point about the result of a tournament they didn’t like for any reason.

Argentina with all its political flaws and problems haven’t used football as political propaganda since 1978 (last dictatorship). And were Argentinians themselves those who have made a critical revision of the 1978 world cup, we don’t need someone from outside come to explain or call out what happened. Historiography has made their part and is part of the history teached in schools. 

President Milei's use of football is related to reform Argentinians football clubs from civil associations to shareholders of S.A. Argentina football clubs traditions are related to social purposes. Clubs like Boca Juniors and River Plate (the bigger) aren’t only about football but hold other types of sports, their objective of existence is to be a space where neighbors of the club (in the beginning of their history) can do sport. Sports clubs belong to their associates, who are the thousands of fans who follow their team. Milei and Macri want to allow the big shareholders to buy these clubs.the extractionist economic model but applied to football.

What this person in the tweet doesn't understand because of their ignorance and their contempt against our people is that football has a colonialist matrix as well. Football players are human resources that Europe takes from our clubs. That is why the players of Argentina National Team (the FIFA N°1) all come from big european clubs or usamericans club with lots of money. But they didn't started their career there, they were bought from clubs from Argentina, and they started when they were childs in small sport clubs that only exist to give working class people a chance to do sport. The first coach of Angen Di María was someone like many others that use their free time to teach childrens football, they don’t even live from that activity, because it is a social activity, not a business. Our football world champions come from working class families, they, like the huge majority of this country, are also descendants from those Europeans that came running away from poverty and those indigenous people who suffered the colonia. And if they weren’t the superstars they are, they were victims of racism because of their latinamerican condition. 

Argentina, like the rest of the countries of the world, has hierarchies based in economics, social and ethical status. As a country that is the result of European colonialism, still struggles with that inheritance. To this person, who may not like the Argentina National Team for random reasons, we seem like the only country that doesn’t deserve to win a tournament because of that. News for you, this is football, there is no “deserve”, you either win or lose. But talking about justice, it is fair that a country that is the home of the players gets to win. Not like European countries that win the world cup with the sons of those immigrants they so much hate, while African countries still struggle to position themselves in the tournament. 

The Argentina National Team has its flaws, but they still represent the working class people of this country and their dreams. They chose to celebrate the America cup with the prop guy, not like the Spain National Team that bent their knees to the king. And yes our current president is a pro Israel (and while in the protest against him the flag of Palestine flys) the National Team refused to celebrate the cup with him. 

And the fact that a third world country with players that come from working class families won, still has a meaning to the rest of the world that celebrated with us the 2022 victory in Qatar. We made that victory a huge popular celebration in the streets and everyone was welcome to celebrate with us. You won’t ever find a Argentina National Team fan that will tell someone from another country that they can’t use our jersey. With all our flaws, we still hold football as the sport of working class people. I guess some people can’t just understand it.

[anamericangirl]

what would be your answer to such a question/situation ?

https://defused.com/shuts-up-pro-life-people/

Ah, I remember seeing this fiasco when it first appeared on Twitter. Patrick Tomlinson thought he came up with some genius scenario that, according to him, "no pro-lifer had ever been able to answer" when in reality he was ignoring and blocking everyone who answered him in a reasonable way that showed he and his scenario were foolish and not the clever trap he imagined it to be.

He is approaching this very disingenuously from the start with the way he poses the question. He will only accept a person saying A (save the five year old from the fire) or B (save the 1000 viable human embryos) and that's it. He won't allow you to even rationalize to him why you selected one or the other because he's already decided why a person picked one or the other. He decided that if a person picked A that meant it was because they thought the child's life had more value than the life of the embryos and were not equal and if you picked B, well, you're just a monster. And that was it. And when you ask a question to other people where you decide beforehand what the only possible explanation for any answer is you're setting yourself up to look like an idiot. And when you pretend the reasons you imagine are the only rationalization for the choices and you do not allow people to say "well, actually, this is the reason I'm going with this option, which is different then the reason you imagined up" then you're not there genuinely looking for answers. You're just trying to "own" pro-lifers. Case in point, one person answered they would save the 1000 embryos using the rationalization that I've seen pro-aborts use when they justify murdering children which is "save as many lives as possible" and he just called them a monster.

So he created a scenario. He gave two options. He decided beforehand that there was only one certain explanation for each answer and there was only one right answer that he would accept. Which makes him a pretentious fool who cannot have an honest discussion about the scenario he invented.

But, anyway, this illustration he came up with is you're in a fertility clinic where a fire breaks out and you only have the chance to save a crying five year old or a container with 1000 viable human embryos and it is just a rehashing of the trolley problem.

Do you pull the lever on a runaway trolley to divert it to a track where it will kill one person or let it keep barreling down the path its on where it will kill five people?

It's a thought experiment that poses a moral dilemma to explore human ethics and moral responsibility. These questions are not designed to have perfect solutions where everyone gets a happy ending and they are not questions that determine who are people and who are not and which human lives are more valuable based on a decision you make in a high stakes situation where no matter what you do someone is going to die.

In the trolley problem, no one makes their decision because they think the individual human lives at stake don't have equal worth or value and no one assumes that's the rationalization behind the choice you're forced to make. So the fact that Tomlinson is presenting the revised trolley problem as a scenario where whichever choice you make means the other lives have less value and are not equal to the life you chose to save means he doesn't understand the question he is asking.

But, anyway, now that I've gone over the very serious flaw in the question asker and the way he is approaching this issue, the answer I give is the answer most people would give. I would save the crying five year old. But the reason I choose this option is not because I don't see the embryos as having equal moral value as Tomlinson thinks is the only possible reason. The reason I go with this option is because if I am in a situation where I am about to die and only have time to grab one or the other before we are all gone, it's ridiculous to assert this is a time where I would be at an intellectual peak able to weigh the moral and ethical questions raised by any choice I would make when I just have to get out as quick as I can and only have the time to hastily go with one or the other. It's also fallacious to assume that the choice I make under such extreme pressure reflects how I feel about the moral value and worth of the life I do not save. Even if I hypothetically chose the five year old because I thought their life had more value than the lives of the embryos that does not actually determine what the reality is. My choice in a high stakes situation does not determine what lives are valuable and which ones aren't. Like of course in a situation like that I would instinctually try to save the child I can hear screaming for help. But that doesn't mean that I think the embryos are less valuable because my gut instincts do not determine human worth.

But I just don't like the dishonesty Tomlinson brings with this question. He can't give you a situation where two (or more) people are going to die, give you the option to only save one and tell you that your decision means whoever you don't save you see as lesser and think their lives don't matter on the same level as whoever you choose to save. Because I can ask him that question right back and just change who his choices are to save. I can say you're in a burning building and your mom is one room and your dad is in the other. You can only save one before exiting the building. There is no third option or way to save them both. And whoever you choose to leave behind in this scenario, you are leaving behind because you know the lives of your mother and father are "not the same, not morally, not ethically, not biologically." If you rescue your mom that means you don't believe your father's life is morally equivalent to the life of your mother and vice versa. So, who do you save? Whose life has the most moral value? Your mom or your dad?

Sorry for the long rant but the arrogance he has over his deeply flawed and disingenuous "question" annoys me to no end.

[leviathan-supersystem]

you know, in the abstract, i think there can, and have, been decent arguments for deontological morality. i don't quite find myself convinced by those arguments personally, but some of those arguments are actually decently well-constructed and coherent. Kant gets a lot of shit, but like, "I ought never to act except in such a way that I could also will that my maxim should become a universal law,” while a pretty flawed and incomplete concept, isn't terrible. like i can see the logic of it, and a community where that was the guiding principle everyone was attempting to follow would probably function at least somewhat adequately.

but like, in practice, outside of the context of philosophy wank, when i encounter deontological moral arguments in the wild, it's always the most mindless thought-terminating shit imaginable. like this:

and to be clear this is extremely standard for libertarians, a vast number of them hold as their core deontological moral belief that it is never under any circumstances acceptable to have taxes, and while they may sometimes make arguments that hinge on the supposed utilitarian benefits of a libertarian ethos, this is mostly a show put on for outsiders. the bulk of libertarians and similar (ancaps, objectivists, etc) believe as this guy does that even in situations where following the libertarian ethos would lead to certain disaster, we are nonetheless bound to do so anyways. Because.

similarly from antiworksters- the whole thing hinges on the core deontological rule of "it is always bad to incentivize labor in any way whatsoever" and when you point out that if this were to be implimented on any kind of large scale, it would make it more likely that disabled people who require labor to care for them would be left to die in the absence of incentives to ensure that the labor to care for them is performed, instead of acting like a reasonable person and going "oh jeez! that's a massive oversight in our ethical framework, we should revise our framework to better account for that, perhaps jettison the 'never incentivize labor' rule since it's apparently deeply flawed" instead they either dodge the question or go "it doesn't matter if paraplegic people end up being left to die as a result of antiwork principles being implemented, the "never incentivize labor" rule can never be broken! Because."

and it's like. why not. like you guys realize you made these rules up. if following this moral code ends up bringing disaster or leaving disabled people to die you can just. not do that. no one is forcing you to follow this poorly thought out ethical code. quite the opposite in fact, since both anarcho-capitalism and anti-work anarchism are fringe ideologies at odds with how the vast majority of contemporary societies function.

and in both cases it's so obvious that the ideologies in question fundamentally hinge on a knee-jerk emotional reaction of not wanting to work/pay taxes, and then just deciding that actually, the very universe itself agrees with you that you should never ever have to work or pay taxes, and therefore the world should have to bend to your- sorry i mean the universe's will, even if society crumbles to dust as a result. fundamentally juvenile.

[void-ink-studios]

Traitorous Cockroach

I wrote that idea I had about Orbo!

It was fun, writing from a bastard's perspective. Orbo is simply the worst, unapologetically so. He's a narcissist, and I will not say sorry for writing him as such.

So enjoy Scarab putting him in his place!

Word Count: 4,100

When Orbo got to roll back out into the light for the first time in... what, 5,000 years, he thought he'd finally be allowed a bit of peace.

He thought he'd have his rad office back, he could find someone to get rid of this fucking snake, and he could spend the rest of eternity not thinking of two certain gods ever again.

He gave the Organizer nothing more than what was strictly necessary in terms of a farewell. He listened to the Judge prattle on about how they hoped Orbo had seen the error of his ways or whatever.

It was all worth it for when he'd get his office back.

Until the Organizer handed a piece of paper with a new room assignment.

"Demoted?!"

The Organizer gave no verbal reaction to the Star Core's indignation.

"Hold on, wait, I served my time! I want my office back!"

"Did you expect to be granted your old position back after what you were in trouble for in the first place? Do I need to go over everything you were found guilty of again? What were you honestly expecting?"

Orbo sputtered for a second, feeling himself shrink a moment at her harsh tone.

"Orbo, you stand before the Judge to answer for several egregious violations of Judgement Hall conduct and ethics. Organizer, please read the charges."

Orbo couldn't believe this was happening. Just a few days ago, he was about to get his buddy the Wishmaster back from whatever spell that bug put on him and now... Now he was standing in the Judgement Hall like some kind of criminal?!

"Yes, Judge. Orbo, you stand accused of abuse of Judgement Hall resources, repeated instances of abuse of power over subordinates, failure to respond to reported threats in a timely or appropriate manner, and inappropriate enactment of punishment outside of your authority and jurisdiction."

"Orbo, how do you explain these charges?"

"I... They're not true! None of that is true!"

"Is it, or is it not true you sent a High Auditor on missions meant to be handled by Interns and Low Auditors? These include cases of misattribution of Judgement Hall supplies and misuse of Judgement Hall time."

"W-Well, yes, I sent Scarab on those missions. But he was out of important missions to do!"

"The appropriate course of action would be to let Scarab rest if that were the case. Sending him out on such missions is a waste of his time, your time, the Judgement Hall's time, and is taking learning opportunities from new recruits, which has lead to an overall decrease in productivity in the lower branches of Auditors. Organizer, is this assessment accurate?"

"Yes Judge."

"That is one charge you have lied about. Do you wish to revise your previous statements? If you revise right now, I will not add perjury onto your charge list. Otherwise, we can continue down the list, and I will add a new charge of perjury for every single instance we find. So I will ask again. Orbo, how do you explain these charges?"

Orbo swallowed at the memory of his... interesting trial. He shook his head, looking back up to the Organizer, who seemed to be preoccupied reading something on the desk.

"But-"

"Not to mention your... substandard performance in the Archives. No, I can't grant you your previous position at this time. Perhaps if you show improvement, we can revisit this. But for now, you are being reassigned."

He couldn't believe this.

He was a god. He was older than most of the starry-eyed dolts in the pantheon, he had earned his position!

"Let's see... Hmm, no, you've been out of practice far too long to be an Auditor again... Let's see here... Ah, here's a place for you."

She handed him a piece of paper.

"...Compiler? As in... as in the guys who sort through those endless stacks of paperwork looking for discrepancies?" She couldn't be serious. She couldn't really be diminishing him to... to a paper pusher!

"Yes, a Compiler. You'd have no subordinates to terrorize, and it's one of the only jobs in my jurisdiction that you can't fail at badly enough to cause a crisis."

"But... But that's... That's almost the bottom of the barrel! I have Seniority over everyone in that office!"

"Yes, I'm sure they'll be impressed that such an old guard is joining them. If you don't like it, you can always continue where you left off in the Archives."

The door to the side of her slid open, the dusty smelling ozone seeping into the room.

"N-No! No, that won't be necessary, mate. Compiler it is then..."

She hummed, gesturing for the paper to be returned. Orbo silently obeyed, wincing as she brought the stamp down, and handed it back to him.

"Glad we have reached an agreement. Now then, you're to report to your new office immediately. You're dismissed."

Orbo's eyes widened as the door to her office opened.

"W-Wait!"

The Orgranizer shifted a few tired eyes at him.

"Is something the matter?"

He squirmed a little under her gaze, but took a deep breath.

"Could you do... something about this?"

He gestured to the snake currently sinking its teeth deep into the side of his head. He was thankful he had no blood to spill.

"I'm sorry but curses and the breaking of them are not part of my jurisdiction. You either need to resolve it with the one who cursed you, or take it through the official channels and file a request for the Judge."

"The Judge?!" The snake snarled, biting a bit harder, making him wince. "The Judge has a waiting list lightyears long!"

"Well then. Better file one as soon as your first break starts. You might want to get going."

And so, Orbo did.

He languished in the Compiler's office. It was as dreadfully boring as he imagined. Paperwork stacks a mile tall, replaced with a new one just as he nearly finished.

He wondered if his punishment ever actually ended.

And don't get him started on his... coworkers. Nothing special, most of them not even truly immortal. Many of them were just long-lived species on the intergalactic stage. Most of them didn't even have magic, not even innately. And none of them had a remotely interesting thought to share.

Several tried to chat, but none were even remotely cool enough to dignify with a response. Eventually, they got the hint and stopped trying.

One of them even had the audacity to try and pet the snake latched onto him. Called it cute.

Until one of them, finally, said something worth his attention.

"Guys! Guys you'll never guess what just happened!"

Orbo rolled his eyes as he continued working through his newest stack. The one currently disrupting the quiet was an odd little thing, an octopus looking creature, piloting some kind of robotic skeleton.

"What happened this time, did you finally catch your lunch thief?"

Nope, because that would be Orbo.

"No, that's still a bust. No, I saw Scarab! He was here, and he even said hi to me!"

Now they had his attention. He turned to look more at the excited alien. Wait... excited? About Scarab?

"No way! And you didn't tell us the Star Auditor was here? Glorm, I will tie your tentacles in a knot, I swear to Glob-"

"I didn't know! I literally just got back from delivering something to one of the managers, and he was just... There! Just leaving the Organizer's office!"

"And you're sure he said hi to you?"

"Yes! He asked where I was coming from and said to keep up the good work!"

No, this couldn't be right. This was the same Scarab, yes? The traitorous little cockroach, there was no way he was being spoken of with... awe, right? He must be mishearing the emotions in their voice.

"Sorry you had to experience that, mate" he decided to butt in.

The office went weirdly quiet. They were looking at him now, but with dumb confusion.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

"If this is the same Scarab I remember, I can't imagine seeing him being pleasant. Not a cool bone in his body." Orbo shivered just thinking about it.

"Wait... You knew Scarab from back in the day? Back when he was the God Auditor?"

"Knew him? I was his boss."

"Is it true? Is it true that he was hand-picked by the Boss for defeating a Comic threat as a mortal?"

Orbo scoffed. "He got lucky. Wouldn't have been able to without that crystal he swiped from the Judgement Hall. Look, just take my word for it, you don't wanna be on his radar. Best to avoid him in my opinion."

With that, he turned back to his desk, satisfied.

"...Where have you been for the past, I don't know, eons?"

And he stopped again.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean... Scarab's awesome! He saved his home world, like, single handedly! As a mortal!"

"Like I said, he got lucky." How did these knuckleheads not get it yet?

"He was the most effective Auditor of all time! He's the Organizer's go-to!"

"Her personal enforcer if I remember correctly!"

"Wait, what?" When did that happen?

"He's captured almost every cosmic criminal sitting in the Neo Citadel!"

"He's an inspiration! He was mortal, and he managed to do all that! Gives me hope maybe I could do something amazing like that."

"Yeah, maybe when you finally remember which stamp goes on which form, we'll talk."

They all laughed with each other like they'd said something actually witty but... Orbo was just... stumped. How is Scarab this... well liked? What happened in the time he was gone? He thought he had everyone being on the same page as him.

There was nothing admirable about a cockroach.

Looks like this place really has gone mad.

He shoved it out of his mind for now, more focused on trying to get his office back than worry about what that skittering little creature was up to.

Until he heard about it again.

"I think Scarab's going to be hosting a seminar soon, right? Yeah, for the new Interns. Maybe they'd let some of us hang out in the back?"

And again.

"You hear Scarab took down the Star Leech? Can't imagine what that battle must've looked like. Wonder what he'll go after next."

And again.

"I saw Scarab out by the gardens a bit ago. I wanted to talk to him, but I think he was meditating or something. Looked peaceful, I might try it."

Okay, what was happening?

Back when he was in charge, Orbo practically had to pull teeth to get Scarab in the Judgement Hall. Now it seemed he was here every other minute. And people didn't seem to have a problem with it. How? How did no one see the issue here?

Something was off. Something had changed. But what?

A particularly hard bite to his back prompted a potential answer.

Prismo.

Prismo had to have done something, there's no other reason Scarab had such free reign.

He was still baffled by the Wishmaster's behavior. How could someone so... so cool fall for such a repulsive little worm? He acted like... like he loved him or something.

He gagged at the thought.

Prismo had to be swaying the pantheon, that was the only explanation.

If Orbo had known that the mercy he granted the bug would blow up this badly, he'd have just chucked him in the furnace and been done with it.

Why hadn't he? He'd finally gotten what he wanted for eons, and he just... Why did Prismo stick out for him? It still made no sense.

At first, he'd been amused. Sure, let the Wishmaster "mentor" Scarab for a bit. Prismo had an annoying habit of trying to see the best in everyone. But, spend a long enough time with Scarab, and that'd be his last ally gone. He waited for the day he got contacted by Prismo telling him he changed his mind, he wanted this gross bug out of the Time Room, and Orbo would be the hero.

Except... the call never came.

A day past.

Then a week.

Then a few months.

Nothing.

A part of Orbo worried Scarab might've finally killed the Wishmaster, but that would've been instant news. No, Prismo was probably okay...

Maybe he was just too nice a guy to say anything? Afterall, he knew first hand how awful Scarab was to deal with at the best of times, much less when stuck with the one entity he hates the most.

He really should apologize to Prismo for that one.

And yet, when he showed up, Prismo didn't take the out! Despite him witnessing Scarab's creepy behavior, he was on the ceiling for Glob's sake, but Prismo seemed none to care! He got angry at him! Him! Scarab must've been saying something. Something to turn their beloved Wishmaster against them.

How else would you explain that terrifying shadow he turned into?

Orbo was getting tired of hearing about Scarab. He even saw him, once, out in the hall. Didn't even acknowledge him.

How dare he.

"GUYS!"

His manager (ugh) barged into the office, clearly excited about something. Everyone jumped as he banged the door open, a piece of paper clutched in his hand.

"What what what?"

"Guess who just got invited to a party at the Time Cube?!"

"No way!"

"What?! Jealous!"

"Aw man, lucky!"

Orbo sat there. Baffled. Prismo's hosting... parties again? And he wasn't invited???

Wait, since when was Prismo's parties invitation based?

"I know, right? I guess I really made an impression on Scarab! He got me invited! I can't believe I get to party with both Wishmasters! Somebody pinch me! I'll put in a good word for you guys, maybe I can get Scarab to come in one day!"

Wait wait wait wait wait.

"Did you just say... BOTH Wishmasters? I thought Prismo was the only one?"

Now they looked at him like he has three heads.

"Wow, you really missed a lot, Orbo. Yeah, Scarab's a Wishmaster, part of the time. After a string of big cases, the Boss gives him some time to be Wishmaster alongside Prismo. Sounds like a lot of work to me, but it seems to work for the both of them."

"Oh, it works alright. They get to smooch all they want."

"Carsinda! We don't gossip like that!"

"Since when? You know it's true, it's not gossip if everybody knows."

Okay, now Orbo's brain was broken.

Prismo and Scarab? Together?

The thought of anyone wanting Scarab like that... to say it made him retch was an understatement.

And here he thought Prismo had decent taste.

Although, from what he's heard about a connection he had to some... mortal, maybe that was an overestimation.

This entire place has gone mad, that's the only explanation. Things have fallen apart without him. People have forgotten exactly what Scarab is. What he always will be.

A dirty little traitorous cockroach.

And dirty little cockroaches don't get to win. They don't get to hang out in the most powerful spot in the multiverse, in the good graces of the most powerful gods in the pantheon. Not when awesome, true gods like him is left to languish in a meaningless office job!

No, they belong in the dirt. Preferably under a boot.

Hmm...

Maybe it was time to pay his old pals a visit. Just to clear the air.

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

It wasn't hard, slipping away from the office. And getting to the Time Room from the Judgement Hall was simple enough.

But... woah. Seems the Time Room's... changed a bit.

He lingered in the doorway, just taking it in, swallowing down winces and yelps from his "buddy's" little interruptions.

There were plants everywhere. Vines, ferns, flowers, even a willow tree. How they were there, he had no idea. He thoughts things couldn't really... live? Not in the Time Room at least. And yet, it looked like a terrarium in here, with strange glowing flowers to boot.

Crystals wrapped in gold filigree cast a soft light, contrasting against the strange clouds swirling at the ceiling. Throw rugs covered a large chunk of the floor, a desk against a wall, and many shelves climbing up and down the previously featureless surfaces of the Time Room. The only wall spared of strange shelves and photos was the TV Wall it would seem.

Well, at least the hot tub was still there, sitting underneath the previously mentioned willow tree. Something familiar.

An elaborate nest of pillows and blankets nearly covered up and comfortable looking seating area, so all encompassing it took up a huge corner of the room.

And it was there that he saw... them.

Prismo, holding Scarab against his chest, sitting on the couch.

Orbo had to blink a few times to process what he was seeing.

Prismo. Was off the wall. He looked strange, not just because he wasn't just a shadow anymore. His legs looked different, he appeared to be made out of gas, he had stars orbiting him, it all looked... wrong. That wasn't his Prismo.

Scarab looked pretty much as hideous as he remembered. There wasn't even the decency to wear his mask. Just his horrid face, out for all to see.

The cockroach seemed to be asleep, thankfully, tucked in close to Prismo's side as the Wishmaster browsed the TV Wall. Scarab made those odd chittering noises as he slept, mandibles twitching ever so slightly. Prismo seemed to have taken to idly petting Scarab's head. It was... sugary sweet.

Wait a second... Were those....?

Yep. Antenna. Ghostly blue antenna, but antenna none the less. Prismo curled his finger around one and dragged up, earning himself a content sigh from the bug in his arms.

How in Glob's name did he get his antenna back? He made sure they were gone, he watched them get cut from his scalp, he tossed them into the incinerator himself!

Wait, if his antenna were back did that mean...? No... No, he couldn't have those back...

The longer he stared, the more confused he became. What had happened to this pantheon?

Scarab's antenna twitched. They shivered, perking upright, making the cockroach rouse from his slumber. A nervous chitter fell from his mouth.

"Hmm? Something the matter, Lovebug?"

"...I know you're there" Scarab said, voice flat.

Well, now or never.

Orbo rolled on in, smiling.

"Ya got me. Guess who got out of prison!"

Scarab sat up, his eyes narrowed but expression blank. Prismo frowned.

"What are you doing here, Orbo?"

"What, I can't visit my favorite Wishmaster after 5,000 years? Like what you've done with the place."

Neither entity seemed impressed.

"Get to the point" Prismo growled.

Woah, tough crowd. He yelped a bit as the snake sunk its teeth into the top of his head. He missed Prismo's little smirk.

"Just wanted to confirm some... rumors I heard around the office. Scarab's Wishmaster now?"

"I am. Part time, at least."

"Hmm. So. You finally got all you wanted, Scrabs?"

"You don't have permission to call me that."

Orbo's head throbbed. This little...

"Oh you skittering little-"

The snake on his head seemed to get a bit bigger. A bit heavier, now biting over and over. Prismo had stood up at some point, leering angrily over Orbo.

"I thought I made it clear you aren't welcome in the Time Room, Orbo. I thought that maybe the Archive might've given you time to think or something. Maybe realize what a scum bag you were. But I guess not."

Scarab watched from the sidelines, an even expression on his horrid little face.

"Oh shove off you sham of a Wishmaster! You and I both know that he wouldn't have none of this if it weren't for you! He's a leech. And you're just letting him cling to your belly."

"That's it, get out-"

Prismo stopped as a hand tapped his shoulder. Scarab had stood up and walked to stand beside the Wishmaster.

"Lovebug?"

Scarab took a deep breath.

"Let me handle this, Prismo."

The dream's eyes widened, looking between Scarab and Orbo concerned.

"Are you sure...?"

"Completely. It's clear he has something to say to me. I say let him say his piece. And I'll say mine. And then I kick him out."

The two shared a look with each other, a silent conversation bouncing back and forth between them. Prismo nodded, taking a step back to observe.

Scarab turned back to Orbo.

"You've got something you want to say to me, Orbo? Now's the time. Go ahead. Nothing will leave this room. You've never held back before."

Orbo blinked. Scara had never looked this... calm before. He saw the traces of wish magic thrumming across his shell.

"You're nothing. You know that, right Scrabs? You're just a dirty little cockroach. This life ain't meant for the likes of you."

"Oh come now. Is that the best you've got?"

Rage boiled into Orbo's heart.

"You know what I said was right. This? All this? It's all Prismo. You'd be nothing without him. I'd have tossed you in the incinerator without a second thought if not for him. Just like I did with your antenna and your wings."

He saw Scarab stiffen a bit, but his expression remained unchanged. Prismo seemed to be boiling, but the cockroach seemed to be keeping him at bay.

"Yeah, there's that little mystery solved for you, mate. I tossed your antenna the second you left. I kept your wings in a drawer for a few centuries. Then I tossed those too. It's what creatures like you are meant for. You're an ugly little novelty. And if it wasn't for him trying to get some, you'd be nothing. You're built on nothing but luck and riding on someone else's coattails. You and I both know it.

"I'd do it all again. I'd just be better at training you to keep your mouth shut."

Scarab was still. Silent.

Yeah, that's right. You know I'm right, you cockroach.

"Are you done?"

Orbo's scowl deepened. He didn't step down, he never would to the likes of Scarab.

"Seems like it. You know... Everything you said probably would've... I'm not sure. Devastated me? If it were a few thousand years ago, I'd have believed everything you said. I still believe some of it. I truly believe you'd have done everything you did to me, again and again. Even after one million years in the Archive, you would still see me as nothing but a skittering little insect at your feet."

Scarab opened his elytra, letting his false wings carry him up into a relaxed hover, above Orbo.

"But... Well, we're not 5,000 years ago. I lived. I carried on. You languished. I know where you're stationed, Orbo. I know all you have is words. Empty words. You can't help but recall what happened all those eons ago, because you can't do anything except revel in the past."

Scarab took a moment to examine his talons before looking back down at the Star Core.

"I know what you are, Orbo."

He lowered himself, leaning his face in close.

"You're empty. You're sad and empty. There's just... nothing but hollow ego inside you."

Scarab raised himself back up, his expression almost softening.

"That's the difference between us, Orbo. You're nothing but ego, so what are you when you sit at the bottom of the hierarchy? I'm not interested in your politics. I'm not interested in your games. I know you only came here to play. But you're the only one at the table, Orbo. You're playing by yourself."

Scarab let himself drift into a relaxed position, even reaching down to pet the snake's head softly.

"I don't forgive you, for what you did to me. But I will thank you. Unfortunately, you have nothing else I want. Perhaps I'll forgive you, in a millennia or two. Honestly, I hope all the best for you. But... above all else..."

Scarab landed on the ground again, hands folded in front of him.

"Above all else, I pity you Orbo. I. Pity. You. Now then, this has been a good chat. Goodbye."

And with a snap, Orbo was gone. Dumped right back in the compiler's office. With nothing but a hollow anger and confusion.

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

Scarab released a shuddering breath. Prismo was by his side in an instant, cooing and kissing the side of his head and neck, nuzzling his cheek.

"You did so good, Lovebug... Glob, I'm so proud of you..."

Scarab nodded. His hands trembled, but he made sure to get a good hold of Prismo's. He turned his head to nuzzle back. He let the Wishmaster drag him back to the couch, wrapping around him in a loving embrace, murmuring sweet nothings.

Scarab thought hard about what just happened. What he said.

That was hard. That was terrifying. But...

He purred into Prismo's sweet touched. He looked all around their little paradise, their home. He was safe here. He was loved here.

Above all, he was free here.

[weaselbeaselpants]

If I were a cartoon review youtuber, some of my videos would definitely be:

Underrated Animated films you should see vol. 1 - ongoing

Complete look at Skunk Fu! and all it's episodes

What's ACTUALLY wrong with Illumination films (spoiler: it's not the designs). And that video would probably have a sequel ironically unironically accusing Chris Meladandri of being a White Walker who rips out movies' souls.

Disturbing Animated Film Iceberg.

A calming, sweet short retrospective on The World of Peter Rabbit and Friends.

Killing off the idea of "endgame". Tho, tbf, I'm definitely going to be writing that thesis statement down someday. I guess in video format it'd be a big "did this series REALLY fall off cuz the creator catered to fans?" breakdown of a few shows.

A video about 9. Because of course I'd make something about 9.

Politically heavy (but not horror) animated films.

An essay explaining the difference between what I want to see in a story vs what's actually good in a story; and likewise the difference between what I personally do/don't find offensive and what's objectively offensive as a viewer.

The dichotomy and standards between different talking animal films.

A review about Mary and Max and why I like it but it's okay if other autists don't. which would be a broader video about how to listen to the opinions of demographics and minorities and not to treat any one as a hivemind.

Movies that I dislike but aren't actually bad.

Movies I love that aren't really all that good.

A deeper dive on my take that Steven Universe was always deeply flawed but having an otherwise working ending; where Star vs was a well-written show that utterly biffed it on the ending.

The Swan Princess is secret conservative propaganda.

The 31 dumbest things in Oogies Revenge.

Zero's Journey is the only good TNBC continuation.

13 Horror animated Feature Films. For Halloween, of course...

My issue with Dreamworks' stans and why I dislike How to Train You Dragon 2.

My issues with Anti v Proshipping. Def would be a multi part series explaining why I think most of the problem is just people really aggresively bulling one another -AND THEN, getting into heinous fandom shit that no one talks about and the ethics of children online and freedom of expression.

Prolly then would make an exclusive (cuz it's dirty) review abt the rights of r34 and adult artists and what they had to/have to put up with both from peers and websites banning explicit material.

What absolutely doesn't work about Pocahontas and Anastasia.

I'd do a series called "Spitball Re-haul" wherein I go through a revisioned show's premise and then explain all the reasons for the changes. I'd make:

How I'd rewrite The Owl House season 3.

How I'd rewrite Star vs the Forces of Evil "Cleaved".

How I'd rewrite Strange Magic.

How I'd rewrite Raya and the Last Dragon.

How I'd rewrite Seasons 4-8 of Friendship is Magic.

My tinfoil hat video on Disney trying to profit so much off of fans is hurting their bases.

Mapping out and analyzing different types of crossover fiction, their merits and their issues with story-keeping.

Mythological and cultural animated films.

and finally, for when I'd muster up the strength:

an HBomberGuy-type callout/deepdive into MysteriousMrEnter and Lily Orchard and how they've made cartoon reviews worse.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Infinite trust and responsibilities?

Trust and responsibility are composed differently based in the contexts from which they emerge. They can be conceived as a set of questions, including the capacity to selectively extend trust across the divisions of race, class, sex, gender, colonization, ability, age, and other forms of oppression and division.

There are good reasons why trust may be difficult. Distrust is often based on experiences of abuse, violation, or being used or taken advantage of. A lot of women, genderqueer, and trans folks don’t trust cis-gendered men; people of color are often wary of white people, and Indigenous people refuse to trust settlers. These are not ideological prejudices, but strategies of survival.

Moreover, to talk about trust and responsibility can sound naïve or just plain stupid in a world in which individual responsibility is callously imposed and so much violence happens to trusting people. At the same time, we want to recognize that people are constantly building trust across these divisions, in ways that open potentials for new relationships. In this sense, a crucial component of joyful militancy is a collective capacity to build, maintain, and repair trust, which may entail taking responsibility for harm, disrespect, or complicity with Empire in ways that we may not have anticipated. Richard Day suggests that many anti-authoritarian currents today are animated by what he calls “infinite responsibility”:

This means that as individuals, as groups, we can never allow ourselves to think that we are “done”, that we have identified all of the sites, structures, and processes of oppression “out there” or “in here”, inside our own individual and group identities. Infinite responsibility means always being ready to hear another other, a subject who by definition does not “exist”, indeed must not exist (be heard) if current relations of power are to be maintained.[122]

In this sense, the questions of what we are responsible for, whom we are responsible to, and what we can be held accountable for are always open, ethical questions. This does not mean that they will be completely revised at any second, but that they are never completely fixed, held open by an ethical responsiveness. Responsibility is infinite in the sense that it is unbounded: we can harm each other in unforeseen ways, and infinite responsibility gestures at the potential of remaining responsive to this. As a way of furthering this line of thought, responsibility could be broken apart into response-ability. Writer and facilitator Zainab Amadahy writes,

Responsibility in this sense is not a burden but something that actually enhances our life experience. The word literally means “ability to respond.” In the relational framework we might understand responsibility as the ability to respond appropriately – that is, for the common good. In this sense, responsibility is seen as preferable to individualism, which doesn’t really exist.[123]

This “common good” is not an abstract good based in Western morality. For Amadahy, it is based in attunement to human and non-human relationships and the capacity to support them. Following this line, responsibility is ethical rather than moral. As soon as answers to these questions become permanent, the ethical moment is gone, and one cannot be responsive to relationships in motion.

Like all common notions, trust and responsibility are not guarantees that things will go well, or that oppression and violence will not happen. Trust, hospitality, and openness are precious and important precisely because they entail incredible courage and risk, especially in the context of Empire, with its many layers of violence and control. For this reason, Esteva and Prakash write that “nothing is more treacherous than that which violates hospitality.”[124] To be open and vulnerable entails the risk of being hurt and betrayed in ways that we cannot be if we are on guard or closed-off. Pointing to the need for openness is not an injunction to remain open to everything. Instead, it is another open-ended ethical question about where, when, with whom, and how to be open and trusting.

[babygirl-isbad]

Soo. Something I don't usually post but I just have to get this out of my system so here's some recent tea omfg

This guys shoulder's are so- SCRUMPTIOUS OMFG. CAN I GO FERAL OVER THEM?????? HOLY FUCKKK

but fr fr this guy's chest and shoulder's are just goddammn. Sir wore a button-up(please i love button up shirts and a tie omfg) AND not only that but comes and rolls his sleeves up ??? THE BICEPS AND TRICEPS ARE VISIBLE HEELLLOOOO??? The moment I see this guy's shoulders and I'm like, BOOM, there goes my shame, my decency and the code of academic and medical ethics up in the flame. help.

ok guys, the tea now.

This guy legit wore this indigo blue shirt, and then rolls the sleeves up, looks at me, SMILES, and then proceeds to *very politely* ask to take the seat in front of me in the library since it was empty uhm uhm uhmm. BROOO and then pulls out the book, biochemistry (yes.yes.yes) and then. after sitting about 45 minutes, mind you, I'm reading biology, the revising part only, was done with the main part soo had some free time, *was rather reading the guy than the book* THEN. he says something to me. I legit missed what he said because UHM. then he repeats, and he's apparently asking me something from the chapter i've read last night. soo, I help him with the oncept, and I LEGIT FEEL HIS EYES ON ME THAN THE BOOK FOR A MOMENT, THE FEELING YOU KNOW THAT HE'S LOOKING AT ME. THAT FEELING.

Did I tell you he's wearing glassess ? like just hot.

*THAT* happens and then after an hour I stand up to leave, so he looks up from his notes (bro fr i got a sneek peak at his notes and his were good. like not the aesthetic looking debauchery but very effective looking pointers, so uhm a guy who's serious about what he wants and is smart?? )

he nods and smiles, resumes to go back to reading, and when I'm leaving like at the door, he's like very shy (yes.) and awkward, so uhmmm what's happening? I tbh don't know just going to go tomorrow as well and see if Mr. shoulders is there. UHFFFF

oh my god why am i so delusional. idk tbh

[cardiac-agreste]

WIP Game

Yesterday I RBd a thing where you list your WIPs, then people send you asks about specific ones, and you share a little. @bohemianrhapsody711 asked about these:

Into the Bugverse

I am SUPER excited about this idea, but it's in very early stages (no actual snippets to share, just some disjointed points I'll fill in right now). It is, as you might guess, a riff on Into the Spiderverse. A bit of crack taken seriously where the multiverse is all the fics on Ao3.

We begin with a universe in which Marinette is navigating not to disappointing her parents, who want her to learn the family trade.

Chat Noir, who fought alone most of his life before Marinette was recruited (think of this as kind of a plot divergent Hey, Ribbons by childoflightningg aka @peggiecarter aka @annaethchase), has died (he was Felix Agreste). She's all alone as LB now. The whole of Paris mourns him.

She also meets the new kid, Adrien, and a new Chat Noir shows up. Suddenly, pulled through the "bugverse" into her own world is an older Marinette from another fanwork, possibly Semantitheft's L'Oublie Marinette. They bond while fighting the big bad (imagine a vibe kind of like @leviaana's wonderful comic about Minibug, the jaded older LB who still loves her younger self).

At a low moment for them, other Marinettes get pulled into her world, all from other fanfics. Maybe

a paranoid @buggachat BEAU Marinette or mistrustful one from @wackus-bonkus-maximus One Does Not Love Breathing

Maybe a Marinette from a Coffee Shop AU like Allez savoir pourqois by Yilena who has no powers but is still smart

Or possibly a blog AU like Chat Noir's Miraculous Award for Truly Magical Food by @mommadon. Non-magic Marinette will receive a miraculous as a temp hero!

Marinette from a fic where she's pregnant as fuck but still fighting (the one I'm thinking of it's kind of a twist she gets pregnant later on, so I won't mention it).

Definitely Marinette from Ghost in the Machine by @jheqiawrites alongside her AI companion Adrien.

Possibly an akumatized Marinette

lip service to the MariBat fandom with a very well-capitalized MARINETTE (see what I did there?) from Miraculous LadyBat by BoxTops

a princess or knight Marinette like from A Royal Pain by jheqia and @sing-in-me-oh-muse

At some point in the fighting, we find out that Adrien died young in this universe and Papillon and Peahen are the enemies, and they're trying to get the miraculous to wish him back to life.

The Adrien in this universe is actually from a universe where Marinette/Ladybug is dead, and OMG, Marinette, he's Chat Noir!!!! Possibly from Hamburger Ladybug by @raspberrycatapult or from Last Wishes by @kasienda

Blah blah save the world, everyone returns to their universes. Hint at sequel that brings in other fanfics' Ladybug versions! Do we get a transdimentional love story?? Who knows? I DO!! (I don't.)

I think there's something of an ethical issue for me about using other people's Marinettes for my story, but I think if it's crack it's more OK (it's somewhat like parody) than if I were creating spinoffs with the same tone. BC to be honest, I suspect none of the BNFs would ever see a message from me asking permission. Better to beg forgiveness, right?

Miraculous: Bachelorette Edition

Alya, sick of watching Marinette flounder into her 20s, unable to confess to Adrien, submits her friend in secret as a potential Bachelorette for a reality TV show where many men vie for her hand. Through the magic of crack, a bunch of guys from the show end up contestants: Adrien (his father made him), Luka (he's pan so why not?), Nathaniel (STILL IN DENIAL about his feelings for Marc), Theo the sculptor with the bad soul patch, etc. Oh, and much to Ladybug's annoyance, Chat Noir is also a contestant?!

All of Paris is begging for Pajamagirl x Adrien Agreste

This is going through revisions in my head, but the initial kernel that is actually written down in my WIPs is

Ladybug falls in a crowded area and unconscious, de-transforms. Someone takes their camera out. "Don't you fucking take that picture. Hawkmoth can't know who she is!" Some teen girl "Is that Pajama Girl? Annette, I think that's Pajama Girl!" "OMG Charlotte, you're right! "Wait, didn't Adrien say in an interview that his celebrity crush is Ladybug?" "Dude didn't I see that Chat Noir took her on a date to Andre's?" Marinette wakes up surrounded by people, freaks out. "Don't worry girl, we're not gonna tell anyone, and no one took any pictures. Your secret's safe. Later that day, Annette and Charlotte get #adrienshoulddatepajamagirl trending on social media. Gabriel, who turns out to have been full of SHIT when he told Marinette that he determines what the public wants, pressures Adrien to date his Very Good Friend for the brand.

[ferindencadash]

Ranting here because I need to get it out of my system and this is my most anonymous platform.

I'm working on my second draft of my ethics for my MA thesis. I've been stuck on this FOREVER because every time I open the list of revisions given to me I get SO ANGRY I want to puke/cry.

My reviewer is a white, cishet, boomer, who is the most notoriously conservative prof in the arts department at an already nauseatingly conservative university. I'm doing my thesis on queer youth aging out of foster care.

This man telling me, a queer and trans person who has been a loud and proud member of the community for over 20 years, what is "offensive" to queer and trans people is a level of audacity I do not know how to deal with in a professional manner.

Examples:

"the word queer is offensive" (yes I am well aware of the controversy around the term and would never apply it to someone who doesn't want me to)

"please use 'preferred pronouns' instead of 'pronouns" (I absolutely will not, go fuck yourself my dude)

I hate grad school. I hate this university. I have so many regrets. I am full of queer rage.

[omegaphilosophia]

Demandingness in Ethics

Demandingness in ethics refers to the extent to which a moral theory or ethical principle requires individuals to make sacrifices, take on burdens, or go to great lengths to fulfill their moral obligations. It is a measure of how much a moral theory demands from individuals in terms of actions, resources, or personal well-being.

Key Aspects of Demandingness in Ethics:

Sacrifice and Burden:

A moral theory is considered demanding if it requires individuals to make significant sacrifices, such as giving up substantial amounts of time, money, or comfort to help others or to adhere to moral principles.

For example, utilitarianism can be seen as highly demanding because it might require individuals to maximize overall happiness even if it means considerable personal loss.

Scope of Moral Obligations:

Demandingness often relates to the scope of moral obligations. If a theory holds that we have extensive duties to others, including distant strangers or future generations, it can be seen as more demanding.

Theories like effective altruism, which emphasize significant personal sacrifice for the greater good, highlight the demanding nature of some ethical approaches.

Practical Feasibility:

The demandingness of an ethical theory raises questions about the practical feasibility of its principles. If a moral theory is too demanding, some argue it may be unreasonable or unrealistic to expect individuals to consistently live up to its standards.

Critics of highly demanding theories might argue that such demands could lead to burnout or moral paralysis, where individuals feel overwhelmed and thus do nothing.

Moral vs. Supererogatory Actions:

A distinction is often made between what is morally required (demanding) and what is supererogatory (going above and beyond moral duty). An ethical theory that collapses this distinction, treating all morally good actions as obligatory, is generally seen as more demanding.

For example, giving to charity is often seen as supererogatory, but a highly demanding moral theory might consider it a duty to give until doing so would cause significant harm to oneself.

Balance and Reasonableness:

Some ethicists argue for a balance between demandingness and reasonableness, suggesting that a moral theory should not demand so much that it becomes practically impossible for people to follow.

Theories like moderate consequentialism or certain forms of virtue ethics attempt to strike this balance by acknowledging moral obligations while also considering human limitations and personal well-being.

The Demandingness Objection:

The "demandingness objection" is a common critique of certain ethical theories, particularly consequentialist theories like utilitarianism. It argues that if a theory is too demanding, it might be unfair or unrealistic to expect people to live according to its principles, and thus it might be flawed or need revision.

Demandingness in ethics is a crucial concept that reflects the tension between moral ideals and practical human limitations. It prompts important discussions about how much we can reasonably expect from individuals in the pursuit of moral good and how to balance ethical principles with the realities of human life.

[hopeymchope]

I'm curious, what's your stance on generative AI? I know we in the fandom community often talk about it in the context of AI created fanart, but I'm talking more in the context of the uses generative AI has in the realm of general work productivity, like what Microsoft is trying to do with their new CoPilot program.

Well, the ethical issue is basically the same as it is for A.I.-generated images—but for some goddamn reason, people don't like to think of any kind of writing as a form of propietary "art" the same way they do about visual arts, so it's garnered FAR less attention.

But as far as their usability goes? As someone who writes documents for a living, I can see these programs being potentially beneficial for creating early rough drafts, but that's the extent of what it's good for now: They can make outlines. BUT! You could get the same outline from a template or from an online boilerplate, so is that even worth anything? Once you go beyond an outline, any text generated from these A.I.s always needs heavy revision, reorganization, and editing. I'd spend less time just writing it from scratch.

Currently, generative so-called "A.I." programs that are designed to assist with writing text are based upon predicting what they think the user is requesting or desiring. They set out to give you what they believe you want, and accuracy is NOT part of the equation. This might not be as big of an issue if you're trying to make a book report on a classic novel, because there are probably enough examples of reliable web coverage on the subject it could reasonably generate something that's at least usable. But outside of doing some of your homework for you, how useful is it?

It can certainly bullshit some generic blather to fill space in a paper, or it could spew corporate-ese for the purpose of drafting a mass company email... but can it announce something new to your staff or the press in an accurate way? Nope. Can it reliably create copy or a script for advertising/marketing? Not if you want your ad to actually be true, let alone unique. :P

If you're doing something fairly rote like taking existing legal documentation to create a new, similar legal document for a different usage? You're better off just having a template on-hand with editable sections to revise; that way, the A.I. won't attempt to "improve" the legal text in a way that fucks you over. And if you're asking the A.I. not to edit that text in the first place... well, then why are we using this A.I. when we already have templates?

If you're hoping to create some kind of instructions, maybe a "How-To" book or a manual for something? Just forget it. It doesn't matter how much documentation on the subject you feed into that A.I. Ultimately, it will preconcieve how the process COULD work or what the program/device/person MIGHT do, and then it starts going off on bizarre claims/tangents that are wholly imagined. The longer the document you want, the worse the amount of nonsensical bullshit gets.

But even if you're just trying to get it to reduce a massive document down to like, a single page that covers the basics? It has no real system for judging what "the basics" are. You can try to specify to the A-not-I what you need to include, feed it the original document... and still wind up with a combination of falsehoods and excluded requirements. This won't necessarily happen every single attempt or in every single paragraph, but it'll definitely happen enough times to make it more trouble than it's worth. Still... this kind of thing — i.e., revising a single existing source into a different format or length — is probably the area that's the most promising application for these programs in the near term. It should be possible to "teach" to the programs in question, and it handily skirts past most ethical questions about the sources behind its knowledge.

What I said about falsehoods and skewed info/inaccuracy is also why search engines that have incorporated A.I. have gotten LESS reliable. Generative A.I. isn't truly "Artificial Intelligence," because it can't make any kind of judgment. It doesn't have a clue how to deem something true or false, and it's really fucking hard to build that into a program. Because ultimately, what do you ask it to do? How do you explain that to the program in a logical fashion? You can't just say "only believe the sources I give you/tell you to trust," because it only generates based on tons of pre-existing examples that it's observed. It only exists at all because of those examples, which is always going to cause these issues.

....and that last point ALSO raises the same exact ethical questions already brought up by A.I.-generated imagery. What right do they have to use these sources? Where are they getting them, etc.? And now I'm back where I started.

Suffice it to say I'm not a fan. Although I do, of course, have skin in this game, so I acknowledge that I'm definitely biased.