#frankly speaking being white is different from all of these other things

[lestis]

"What does it mean that whiteness is an idea and a set of values and not a natural law, as some would like to believe? Indeed, that it is an idea with consequences? We talked about whiteness as an idea with consequences so that we can see how the idea itself leads to actions, and then we can develop a plan for mitigating those actions. Because white is defined as normal or standard, the people who benefit from it (i.e., white people) often struggle to see it operating, because to them it is simply the natural order of the world. Whiteness is seemingly so ubiquitous that it appears to be invisible. This is why understanding white privilege is important. It is the act of seeing the seemingly invisible. It is the work of white people to undo whiteness. As the writer Michael Harriot has noted, 'White people who are quiet about racism might not plant the seed, but their silence is sunlight.' I do not say this to suggest that people of color have no role; we do. But we will never undo an idea so insidious alone. It begins with white people unpacking and acknowledging that the system is designed or and benefits them in ways that are solely based on their whiteness and not on any attribute that they possess as individuals—this is what we call white privilege."

— Excerpt from On the Other Side of Freedom: The Case for Hope by DeRay Mckesson, pg. 87-88.

white ppl have no concept of the pain of finding a community that you belong to and then discovering the deeply entrenched racism in said community

[thechekhov]

Hey Chekhov! How do you start converting an AU idea from character sheets and mini comics into a plot outline for a full, continuous comic? Especially if the series you're basing it on isn't complete?

I've been following your white diamond Steven comics for years, and frankly, I love how it builds and continues the scaffolding canon laid to be something that is thematically still the same but also very unique. And I never thought I'll ever say this, but now I'm working on a canon-divergent AU with someone that's I think aiming to do something similar(continue the themes of canon but different). So I'll just like some advice, I suppose!

You might've answered something like this before, honestly, but I tried to dig a little and couldn't really find it.

Thanks, if you do answer this! I just want take the opportunity as well to say also that your comic and blog accompanied me through parts of my late teens, and I'm very grateful for you being a stabilizing influence during that time.

Thank you! I really appreciate you saying that, and I appreciate you respecting me enough to ask for advice.

As for your question...

Well, to be frank, I don't START with character sheets and mini-comics. In fact, for WD!AU, I didn't have any character sheets until I started season 2.

Think of your story as an aquarium. Your characters are fish.

Yes, they're important, but having a whole bunch of fish without any substrate, tanks, feed and WATER..... will not really make for a memorable aquarium experience.

The reality is that all stories should start with an end.

That's my personal approach, anyway.

What I mean is - you need to know the general idea for your story before you begin to write or plan it.

Let's try this:

1.Tell me about your story in THREE sentences!

Just three. Not long ones, just regular ones.

For my AU, @ask-whitepearl-and-steven, it would be:

"A young orphan runs away from home with a mysterious lady who seems more cryptid than human. He realizes that he's not human either - he used to be the ruler of an alien planet! He and the other aliens he meets decide to (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (REDACTED) and he (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (READACTED) (READ ANDCTED) (READ AND FIND OUT)."

YOU should know how YOUR story ends too! Even vaguely.

It helps if you know at what point you plan to lay down the pencil. Because if you DO know, you are always going to know which direction to walk in, even if the end is so far away it's beyond your line of sight.

It's true that when I began WDAU, I didn't have much information about White Diamond and white Pearl, because they had literally ONLY been introduced. I had to guess a lot of the details (like WP being Pink's originally) and what White would be capable of. And thankfully, my original intent for the story's end fit pretty well with what was later revealed!

But don't forget - you could also just fuck around with stuff! It's your story, after all.

And don't forget... to also look back!

2.Tell me WHY the story is happening in the first place.

There's a reason that the beginning of your story happens when it does. If there is no reason to start somewhere, then find a different place to start.

You should be able to tell me "We're picking up the story here because something significant has happened... and that significant thing happened BECAUSE...."

That 'because' is your main background information that should be revealed slowly throughout the story. In WDAU's case, we only have a few pieces of the puzzle. We know Greg's side. He know Earl's side. But there are still little bits and pieces missing! And they're all important for finding out WHY Steven ended up an orphan and WHY he is being followed by White Pearl (Earl) at the very start of the comic!

3.Tell me what the coolest and most interesting things to happen would be....and then write them!

I think this may be something that's rarely said out loud, but I will speak on the behalf of the people...

We should write the scenes we want to read. If you don't want to read the scene you're writing, then DON'T write it!

If you feel like you "have to" do a page and a half of 'lore' because you think it's traditional to have that 'explanation' about the location of your story, or the history of the species or whatever, you're simply wrong. There are other ways to reveal information aside from just forced paragraphs upon paragraphs of information that would make an SAT Reading Section sweat.

Instead, I recommend that you find the most exciting or hilarious way for the characters to discover the most important bits of info. Find a dramatic twist. Shove it into the narrative. Then, figure out what needs to happen to get there.

Ultimately, though, remember this: When you're taking advice from me or from others, don't forget to take advice from yourself, too! It's your story, after all. You know it best, and only YOU can figure out how to get it written.

I hope that helps at least a little bit! Writing it never easy, but it should still be enjoyable!

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Call Me When You Get Home - Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: I decided to try my hand at writing based on prompts from these lists: one / two and my favourite characters from Top Gun: Maverick, so, here's the first one from my works list.

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

prompt: no. 7 - "call me when you get home, so I know you’re safe.”

warnings/content: alludes to some spiciness, unlucky in relationships, ends in fluff. mild swearing.

word count: 1.9k

You’d never been one for relationships. You’d grown sick of broken hearts and forced apologies, and constant letdowns, and at this point in your life, you didn’t want to waste any more time being unhappy or anxious or scared that at any moment, the one thing you’d grown to rely on being there could be taken from you without warning. You were tired of the constant back and forth on holidays to visit family members neither of you could stand, and who frankly, couldn’t stand you either. You were sick of the way that everyone put relationships up on a pedestal, to be coveted and desired more than anything else in life. You were over it all, and you had convinced yourself it was for your own good, that it was better this way. 

That was, until you met him.

Lieutenant Jake Seresin had wandered into your life last fall. You’d been home to attend your aunt Penny’s wedding, her having finally gotten married to Captain Pete Mitchell, after several years of back and forth between them. At first glance, Jake was exactly the type of guy you’d go for - he was single, and preferred it that way. He never wanted to be tied down or have someone waiting for him at home - he claimed it was just “who he was”, but you knew there was more to it than that - he was afraid of the same things you were, in a sense. In Jake’s mind, if he had no one waiting for him at home, then he’d never have to worry about there being that chance of him not coming home from a mission. He wouldn’t have to worry about leaving someone behind, and that was just easier for him and his life as a Naval Air Force pilot. 

However, your cousin Amelia and your new uncle had different plans in mind. They saw the two of you as one in the same - you were both running and hiding from the same thing, in a sense. You refused to fall in love out of fear of someone getting hurt. They had “accidentally” seated the two of you at the same table at the wedding, side by side. Jake had been drinking a beer while you sipped a vodka-cran, the same one you’d been nursing for the previous hour since cocktails were served before the reception. His tall, tanned figure looked like heaven in his white dress uniform, his blonde hair gelled upwards slightly in the front, trimmed and neat in the back. He was gorgeous, and boy, did he know it. 

After countless drinks shared between the two of you (and you were eternally grateful that night for Captain Mitchell’s deep pockets and the idea of an open bar), a brief fling in the back of Jake’s truck, and an exchanging of phone numbers over coffee the next morning as you both sobered up, you’d found yourself wondering if, maybe, just maybe, you could be open to something with him - not a relationship, but an agreement of sorts. No dates to speak of, no pressure to label things, and no timelines forcing either of you to do anything - just, enjoying each other’s company on your own terms, without the awkward “I love yous” and breakups that you were used to, and without Jake’s fear of having someone be left behind if anything were to happen to him. Just...more than friends. 

It was a few months into your arrangement of “more than friends” the first time he said it. You were surprised it was Jake who said it first - you’d never thought of him as being the caring, thoughtful type, he’d always been so laidback and carefree, with a hint of arrogance to him and his teasing, that it completely caught you off guard when he said it after a night spent at his apartment off base. 

“Hey, just, you know…call me when you get home, ok? So I know you made it home safe?” he’d said.

His soft smile and the kind look in his green eyes, his hand resting on the door frame as he looked at you, standing there in a tight fitted white t-shirt and his sweatpants as he said goodbye to you before you headed back to your house that morning. Any other time, he would have just given you the same, standard, “I’ll text you later.” or a basic “I’ll call you, yeah?”. Normally, him saying he wanted to know you made it home safe would have sent you running - you knew what it meant, or at the very least, what it could lead to, and you didn’t want anything ruining what you  and Jake had together, even if it wasn’t supposed to be anything in particular.

The second time, you said it to him, and as you said it, you knew you were doomed. Doomed to be headed down that pathway of boyfriend and girlfriend, only to almost certainly be heartbroken in a few months when he decided that it wasn’t you, it was him, or that he’d met someone else. 

When you said it this time, Jake had been on his way back to the base for a mission last minute. He’d grumbled when his phone went off, interrupting a moment between the two of you, and you knew almost instantly what that meant - he’d be gone for an indefinite amount of time, and you’d see him when you saw him. He could be gone for a week like the last mission, or for months, depending on what it was and how long it would take to complete. It was always classified, and he never really had details until he was already in the middle of it. 

“Call me when you’re home, so I know you’re safe, ok, Jake?” You’d said, your voice low and soft, almost in a whisper as the words escaped your lips.

Jake frowned as he went to respond, almost looking as if he was at a loss for words, which was never like him. Instead, he sighed and nodded his head before heading out the door. A few weeks later, you’d gotten his phone call. 

“Can we talk about something?” he’d said, his normally overly self-confident tone was now quiet, and almost shy, like he was afraid to have this conversation with you. 

“Of course we can. Are you alright?” You’d asked as you absent-mindedly chewed on your bottom lip, anxiously running through all the different possible scenarios that could come from this.

“I’m fine, I promise, just…come over, please?” 

Within 15 minutes, you were on his doorstep, waiting for him to answer. He looked exhausted, his five o’clock shadow was evident, the sign of him not having been home long enough to even shave or shower since he got in. That was your first clue that it was something serious.  Your next clue was when, instead of making a comment about how your ass looked in your jeans or how your shirt would look better on his bedroom floor, he gave you a hug. Jake was never a hugger - by all accounts from his friends and your own observations over the last half a year up to this stage, you’d never seen him hug anyone before, not even once. Usually the best anyone got out of Jake Seresin was a firm handshake and his million dollar grin. But this time, this time you’d gotten a full-fledged bear hug when he saw you - his arms wrapping around you tightly, pulling you in for a passionate embrace, as if he’d gone years without seeing you and finally found you again. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Jake? You’re…you’re kind of worrying me.” You’d laughed as you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Right, that.” He’d begun, biting at the inside of his cheek as he mulled over the words he wanted to say, “I…don’t think our agreement is working out between us.”

You felt your cheeks turn hot and red, tears beginning to sting your eyes. Despite the boundaries in place, you fell for him, hard. You’d never tell him, and you didn’t even realize it yourself before now, but as he said that - those words you’d been trying so hard to avoid with him, you knew. You knew he’d reeled you in and there was no escaping it now. You were about to get heartbroken, again.

“Oh?” You kept your response cold and indifferent as you tried to mask your feelings as best as you could.

“Before you get upset with me, hear me out,” he started, holding his hand up to gesture for you to wait for him to collect his thoughts.

“Why, so you can give me the same old “it’s not you, it’s me” speech? So you can tell me how you’ve met someone else?” 

“No,” he said calmly, letting out a deep breath. 

“I don’t think it’s working because I think I’ve fallen in love with you anyways.” He sighed softly, shrugging his broad shoulders as he shot you an apologetic look.

“You...you’re in love with me?” You stammered and stumbled over your words as you spit them out.

“I think so. I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time I was gone. I just kept thinking about how nice it’d be to come home and see you again. And despite how it scares the living shit out of me to think that one day I may not be able to come home to you, I also don’t want to spend the rest of our lives not telling you how I feel.” 

Without another word being spoken between you, you wrapped your arms around Jake’s neck gently and pressed your lips to his in a gentle kiss. He placed his hands firmly on your waist, pulling you in towards him, his lips moving in sync with yours. After a moment, he pulled away, his signature grin now back on his face.

“I’m going to take that as a “I love you too, Jake”?”, he smirked as he brushed a piece of your hair back off your forehead. 

“Just shut up and kiss me again, Lieutenant.”

Now, nearly 6 months into officially dating, you found yourselves constantly reminding each other just how in love you were. Jake would send you texts throughout the day when he could, updating you on what was happening wherever he was at the time, and you’d respond with playful teasing. You’d make sure when he came home that his laundry was done for him, because otherwise, he’d never remember to wash it, and he’d signed into his food delivery account on your phone so you could always order whatever you felt like for dinner when he was going to be coming home. You’d cuddle on the couch watching movies together, sharing a bottle of wine as you both took the opportunity to relax and unwind together. And despite all of the domestic life you’d taken on together, you did manage to keep one boundary together.

You’d always call to let the other one know you were safe.

[spiderpussinc]

are the 2099 comics THAT bad in terms of racism plus other weird writing choices??? i'm starved for miguel content and would like to read the original comic run but i keep seeing the debate of the original comics being problematic and/or downright just BAD bad (not to mention miguel is supposed to have mexican heritage but he's straight up a white redhead lol)

Some people may disagree but speaking as a latinx writer; it's bad because it is racist, yes! On multiple fronts!! And beyond that, it's also bad as a complete failure of comics structure and compelling narrative.

Longpost, on readmore;

I say this as a long-time capeshit reader, as politely as possible: Miguel's comics are a *paycheck* book. As in; a series a writer does monthly to be paid for it, but with middling aspirations and downright negative characterization depending on where their mood is.

The first few issues of his 1992 run are relatively complete and well-balanced, may even trick you into thinking this story is going somewhere; but that's only because they're the /character pitch./ Ill skip to the end and tell you upfront. That 1992 series ends with the implosion of the whole "2099" line of comics (an universe that included other books, like ghost rider, doom, etc, by other writers) due to dwindling public interest and mass cancellations. The end of that run is basically meaningless, since the whole thing got retconned - and even before that a guest writer had came in and made mistaken character reveals pdavid wasnt happy with and wanted to erase before the finale. The event book that wrapped up that universe was unironically, literally called -- "2099: Manifest Destiny."

Now, I don't like Peter David's writing. I think he's obsessed with the idea of building harems out of his female characters (when he's not fridging them, or making them act ~crazy~ to further alienate them from the protagonist) and it is the kind of grueling, joyless reading experience I can only describe as making you feel Oily Inside. This goes as far as multiple stalking plotlines, the inclusion of a guest appearance from AU s/x slaver Hulk in later years, Miguel's mother being strongly implied to have been forced into conceiving him by his real dad who's the evil CEO of alchemax, general torture painporn. His broader supporting cast is so interchangeable and disposable that they were literally disposed of.

In terms of the racism; I have mentioned how he uses cultures as tokens and does 0 research whatsoever. The way it feels and the way it is deployed is through a lens of Exoticism - tourism. Miguels suit is allegedly "a dia de los muertos costume" b/c pdavid seems to think that holiday is mexican halloween. In the orig book, you'll see plenty of broken japanese and stereotypical orientalist caricatures - after killing his first love interest, pdavid introduces a japanese girl who is unironically, literally named "Xina" (that pretends to be chinese on occasion) to fill in the vacant role. Miguel himself falls right into all the usual latino stereotypes — short tempered, drug addict, sex magnet "latin lover" (this last one also applied to his brother Gabriel, who for the longest time is characterized by just Going Through A Lot Of Girlfriends). And it's kind of insane bc he's still being drawn as a deeply deeply white man, but not even that takes off the burden of the racial microagressions!!! They're the only times pdavid seems to remember that heritage! Then there's the commemorative hanging page. Since you mention the redheadedness; thats another insane thing to me. He has 0% of irish in him. His dad is Blond. Who is this man?

Most of the info in the 2099 run is either revealed to be a lie midway thru (miguel is not mr o'hara's son, nor addicted to rapture) or completely retconned away to be rewritten in new runs. Different writers have tried to come in and do miguel in other team/event books but frankly nothing stands out and most of them get marked as alternate-miguels. Unfortunately, every time marvel decided to give another shot at spider-man 2099 they also brought pdavid back. The newer books were never a success, and theyre just as filled w/ the garbage i mentioned earlier (wow! Steampunk spider-woman is given to pdavid for *ONE* issue and instantly tonguekisses gabriel before leaving, so novel. More fridging ensues. Stalking. Etc.) 2099 as an *universe* has been retconned so many times Nothing is consistent and Nothing is set on stone and frankly i think they should make it an AU separate from main canon and build a whole new world already.

The art in the 2015 + runs consists mostly of tracing, and more of that oily weird feeling applied to fem chars. Perhaps you have noticed in this entire hate review have never once spoken about Miguel's heroic plots and memorable villains --- he has none. At least nothing I can remember or distinguish. (Interchangeable, disposable, etc) There is a vague inkling of "this is an anti-stabilishment spiderman, he fights against The Public Eye, the Corporation Cops!" at the start but much like his cultural illiteracy pdavid has no real insightful politics commentary, so that dissolves into the background in time. Its all buzzwords. All of his plotlines are solved in circuitous or soap operaish extradrama ways; and while some of this is present in other superhero comics, what stands out to me MOST is how utterly fucking joyless Miguel's comics are. It's like going through a slog on obligation. They genuinely gave me a headache every time.

ATSV does a great job of reinventing Miguel and rebuilding the parts of him that showed real promise. Being a different tone-swapped spiderman, futuristic, being more on the tech-science side of crime fighting. Him being a single dad with a daughter is also new. (And he is single! There is no singular mention of marriage or a wife anywhere, he's a geneticist, multiple spider-men we see in this movie were literal clones made in tubes - i am fond of the idea he's a transmasc dad but even if you think he's cis he could have made that baby himself. Adoption is also always there.) I think its very clear ATSV didn't want to bring any of pdavids major weird shit w fem chars to the big screen on the hopes that miguel gets rebooted eventually. I think he's gay. Nobody can prove me wrong.

On that note, Steve Orlando (queer writer, also wrote for DC's midnighter/apollo) did some of the latest 2022/2023 Miguel miniseries. Another reboot! Those were "2099: Exodus" and "Spider-man 2099: Dark Genesis" - i think its campier/trying to tackle superhero plots more head on and trying to do something wide wacky cast focused at Marvel's personal request, but Miguel's future is very up in the air rn. I do really hope they reboot him into something closer to ATSV with latines at the center soon.

What I always reccomend for people curious abt miguel: read his first 3ish 1992 issues, get a general feel and close the book as soon as you feel annoyed. It won't get better. Remember none of it is canon nor has been relevant in over two decades. If you want to know the wider context of his messy chronology, check out some of the 2099 "all comics" type of youtube videos, theres some pretty easy to digest summarizations if u dont wanna waste ur time reading stuff that just got retconned again lol. Most writers now are operating on vibes and that is a freedom you should also allow yourself in your own fanwork.

Putting his panels out of context can be very funny though. (For further curiosity or tangents, there's always my meta tag)

[wrathofrats]

Kinktober day 7: hate sex

Prompts by @kroas-adtam

what you do on your own time’s just fine, my imagination’s much worse

Alpha/omega

Read now or on ao3

Explicit, 4k.

The thing is, alpha isn’t stupid (despite whatever the fuck earth has claimed). Its easy to notice omega staring when he whips his head away like he’s been smacked whenever alpha turns to meet his gaze. The shaky voice seems obvious when omega doesn’t sound like that around water. He just can’t miss it, can’t ignore how his pupils blow wide and he chews on his lip when he watches alpha play.

It’s disgusting quite frankly

WARNINGS AND TAGS: homophobia, homophobic slurs, homophobic stereotypes, heavy degradation, kinda dubcon but both give pretty enthusiastic consent, tiny bit of blood kink, blink and you’ll miss it, alphas using omega to get off, omega is more than ok with this, tiny bit of forcefem?, objectification, calling a hole a pussy, pls head all my warnings if any of this is a problem skip this one LMAO

Alpha and omega were summoned together. A plume of sparks and smoke, in the midst standing two ghouls that primo had never seen in such sizes. They stepped off the altar with little problem, none of the hissing and fighting that had occurred with Nihils ghouls. They were perfect. Dangerous and obedient for the church's new project.

Alpha had taken his orders more seriously than omega. He was a guard, made from fire and lava in the pits and placed at primos side when he didn’t have a guitar in his hands. Even when he did, he was still silent and stoic. Working on learning the chords as if they were gospel in order to please his papa.

Omega was different. Surely took his job seriously but spent his time in the library doing research, or taking care of the siblings minor injuries. He was friendly and approachable, quickly taking a liking to the other three ghouls that were summoned not long after alpha and him.

He took a special interest in alpha. For being summoned together they rarely interacted outside of band purposes, and even then alpha stayed silent, only really speaking when primo prompted him to. When omega tried, he was usually ignored besides maybe a nod of his head or a grunt.

Even the small interactions made omega blush. He never understood why, simply feeling nervous and out of breath when alpha would so much as look at him. Once alpha asked him how much of the song he had memorized and omega could barely respond to him without his voice shaking. It’s all thoughts to push down for another day. Or maybe until they disappear forever. Swallows his sick little urges, the white hot coil of desire whenever he catches a glimpse of those bright orange eyes or sharp teeth.

It's bad for omega they're in such close quarters all the time, he watches Alpha too much for his own good. He's a handsome devil. Maybe it's for his own good that Alpha barely takes off that stupid mask, maybe it's wrong that he wants to coax the fire ghoul into taking it off for him more often. Show him how rugged and handsome he is beneath like letting him in on a secret.

He scolds himself in private for the way his throat went dry when Alpha brushed too close, hates that he wished Alpha just pushed his way into his space and stayed there. Omega tried to do his work despite feeling on edge every time he was near alpha, tried not to stare at how alphas muscles flex while he plays. All in a day's work.

The thing is, alpha isn’t stupid (despite whatever the fuck earth has claimed). Its easy to notice omega staring when he whips his head away like he’s been smacked whenever alpha turns to meet his gaze. The shaky voice seems obvious when omega doesn’t sound like that around water. He just can’t miss it, can’t ignore how his pupils blow wide and he chews on his lip when he watches alpha play.

It’s disgusting, quite frankly.

Omega walks into the practice room late one evening while alpha is playing. He seems to know his schedule, somehow omega is able to be near him even when alpha tries to go to the practice room at times he thinks he will be alone. It gets on his nerves, if omega wanted to be around him so badly he could stop fucking stalking him and speak like a normal ghoul.

Alpha sets his guitar to the side when he hears the doorknob turn. Taking a deep breath before getting up to b line towards omega who looks surprised alphas even acknowledged his presence.

Omegas slammed against the wall before he can process alpha has his hands on him. Wide eyed and trying to cower as alpha growls.

“What the fuck is your problem man?”

“I’m sorry?” Omega squeaks. He’s easily taller than alpha by a decent bit, but between his hands he feels impossibly tiny.

“You’re always staring at me, won’t even fucking talk to me like some freak. You act like you’re a 12 year old girl with a crush!” Alpha looks somewhat desperate for an answer, eyes darting over omegas face who looks a little too guilty for such an accusation.

And he’s not denying it.

“Oh god! You do!” Alpha scoffed, pulling back like he’s been scalded, “you should be disgusted, that shits not normal, what would papa think if he knew you liked another ghoul?”

There’s a horrific feeling in Omega's gut as alpha berates him. Something swoops in his belly as alpha backs up as if he’s too filthy to even breathe the same air as him. Omegas turned on by this. It does nothing to deter him, it really only makes him hard and flustered.

Alpha glances down much to his own amusement. Even if he thinks omegas disgusting he can find some entertainment in the fact that he’s turned on by this.

"Didn't wanna believe you were some fucking degenerate but look at you...you're hard over this aren't you? hells...somethings wrong with you,"

Alpha moves to almost cup the front of omegas pants. His touch is too harsh to be pleasurable, like anything softer would be enabling the degeneracy, but omega is still filling out anyways in alpha palm.

"Not supposed to get hard over other men, freak."

Omega can’t even muster up a good response for him. He could try to deny it but there’s no denying anything when alphas palm is pressed to his cock.

“Should throw you back into the pits, papa would be so disappointed” alpha sneers. Omega is red all the way to the tips of his ears and to his humiliation he arches into the press of alphas hand for more stimulation, even when he’s being berated like this.

“You’re sick. You’ve been wanting this haven’t you?” Alpha scoffs in disbelief.

Omega bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, he can’t stop himself from nodding in agreement. Alpha laughs and takes half of a step back, retracting his touch. Omega lets out a quiet groan and almost asks him to touch him again, that fuck, he needs alpha to touch him.

“I’m not fucked up like you megs. I don’t need another man to touch me”

There’s a snarl to alphas voice as he continues to talk, his lips drawn up in disgust as omega stands there pathetically hard and trying to cover himself up. He almost feels bad, omega looks properly guilty. Even if he deserves to feel that way.

Alpha makes a decision that can really only be blamed on the heat of the room and the fact that he’s burned through most of the siblings that want him. If omegas going to be a desperate freak, alpha may as well get off if he’s willing.

There’s barely any force in alphas touch as he pushes omega to his knees, he goes down mostly willingly and alpha tries not to look disgusted when omega seems excited that he’s pulling his cock out.

“Mouths a mouth, no different from a girl I guess” alpha mumbles under his breath. Omega reaches to help him guide into his mouth before alpha is smacking his hands away with a hiss “you’re just some hole for me to put my dick in, keep your filthy hands to yourself”

Omegas mouth falls wide open when alpha takes himself out fully and gives himself a few good strokes to harden up. He’s bigger than omega expected, he would’ve wanted him at any size but god he hopes alpha doesn’t hear him whimper when he sees how big he is.

“You’re such a bitch” Alpha scowls, rolls his eyes as omega looks euphoric when he pushes between his lips.

Before omega knows it alpha has his head back against the wall. He’s completely pinned with his hips, nowhere to retreat to as he fucks his mouth and uses him to get off.

It’s a quick sequence of events, alpha pulling out to cum on the floor next to him before cumming down his throat would be some dirty admission to wanting it. Omega looks sad when he watches alpha shoot right onto the tile, even if the sight of alpha blissed out above him is something he will replay for weeks.

Alpha doesn’t say much, just tucks himself back into his pants, helps omega up and gives him a “you ok?” Before leaving without another word when omega gives him a nod.

It’s the start of a bad habit.

As much as alpha doesn’t want to admit it to himself, he halfway enjoyed himself even if his brain was screaming at him not to. He would never admit it, never tell omega that. He’s just some willing participant in alpha needing to get off, no different from a sex doll. Or a whatever easy sibling he can find in the alley ways. Right?

He doesn’t want to say it happens often. Or at least too often for alpha to keep claiming is a coincidence. Always just bullies omega into some tight space away from any prying eyes or ears and forces his mouth open for him to stick his dick into. Hell maybe he even goads him into touching himself if he really is feeling mean.

“You fucking gross enough to get off with just a cock in your mouth? Pathetic.”

Alpha tries not to think about the fact that he can.

He tries not to think about when he cums on his face because he didn’t pull out fast enough and omega sticks his tongue out to catch it, tries not to let the image of omega covered in his cum stick in his brain too much.

And for omega? He provokes it. He wants alpha to bully him, wants his cock in his mouth and god he’s too easy to rile up to pass on the opportunity everytime it rears its ugly head. He shouldn’t revel in being so immoral and dirty, but honestly it’s hard not to.

He rubs against him a bit in the chapel, shoulder to shoulder and much closer than he ever has been because alpha can’t do anything about it. Brushes against he hand as they leave with a look behind him that is devilish even through the uniform mask. Longing touches throughout the day that have alpha growling until he gets annoyed enough to confront him in the empty practice room.

“Fucking pervert” alpha sneers, “you’re lucky I don’t just out you to everyone else, tell them what you’ve really been asking from me after practice”

A pang of humiliation runs through omega as it usually does in these scenarios, feeling almost blasphemous about his feelings but can’t help that alpha does all but discourage it.

“Still need my cock down your throat? So pathetic you’re willing to let me use you just so someone will touch you?”

Omega doesn’t answer. He has no excuse for himself. Even if he did he doesn’t care much considering how hard it makes him when alpha speaks to him like this, and alpha knows it.

Just drops to his knees, he knows the routine. But alpha has a different idea.

“Not this time, stand up facing the wall”

Omega gives him a confused look. This can’t be what he thinks it is, can it? He does what he’s told anyways, stands up and places his arms on the wall, looking back at alpha expectantly.

“Wanted a real pussy tonight I think. Might as well see if yours is even good enough for me to get off”

Omegas brain short circuits as alpha quickly pulls his pants down, leaving him exposed while alpha simply pulls his dick just out of his waistband. An extra hint of embarrassment, and an extra reminder of what omegas really there for.

Alpha is rough, barely gives omega time to react to him putting his hands on his waist before he’s finally pushing in. Omega tries to brace himself but he can’t help the needy moan he lets out when alpha bottoms out inside of him.

“Stay fucking silent, I don’t need the reminder that you might actually cum from this”

He can’t, no matter how hard he tries. Sure he’s been fucked before but it doesn’t happen often. Usually it’s him alone in his room with a cheap toy feeling guilty for thinking about alpha, but actually being split on alphas cock in another story. He bites down so hard on his sleeve he’s sure he’s left holes in it while alpha continues to fuck him relentlessly.

The hand on omegas hips burns as alpha holds him flush to himself. He grips his skin like he has no regard for omegas own comfort and omega hates how much he loves it. It’s rough, he’s sure he will feel it for days and honestly an awful part of him hopes alpha burns right through the top layer of skin so his print sticks forever.

Omega doesn’t take much to get close, already dizzy with alpha shoving his pants down so he can use him. He gets a hand on his cock and gives himself a couple strokes before he’s spilling all over his fist and part of the wall.

Alpha ignores omegas whimpers as he fucks him through his orgasm. He pulls out and cums on the floor next to him, as if it makes the situation any less disgusting for him.

“Faggot” alpha growls, buttoning his pants to leave omega panting.

There’s a part of omega that knows he shouldn’t let that get to him, that he should ignore it and call alpha a dick after he pulls up his own pants but he can’t deny how that makes him feel hot, a burning blush creeping up his chest at the word.

His fingers curl around his cock once he gets back to his room, free hand around his throat as he thinks about that deep raspy voice insulting him, degrading him like he’s worthless. It’s pathetic, he know it and he can’t stop, can’t stop letting alpha do whatever he wants to him despite there being that little voice in his head saying it’s wrong. He needs to stop, but the second alpha looks his way the voice gets drowned out with the need to have his cock in him again.

Omegas hand reaches down to prod at his hole. He wiggles three fingers inside. Moaning at how he’s still loose from alphas cock. His mind keeps repeating how alpha called it a pussy, it shouldn’t have his cock leaking onto his stomach, but he can’t help himself.

There has to come a boiling point. Enough quick fucks and blow jobs in secret corners of where they practice that omega gets sick of it. Alpha can degrade him till his heart's content but at the end of the day he’s still coming back to omega, still using him instead of a sibling to get off even if he claims omega isn’t better than some pussy he could find from a cheap prostitute.

It’s a bad routine. Once a week or so alpha just gets pent up and takes it out on omega. Fucking him or shoving his dick down his throat before he inevitably snarls some half thought out insult and tries to cum anywhere but in him.

Alpha walks back to his room late one night after practice alongside omega who keeps his hands shoved into his pockets but won’t stop taking side glances at him. He wants to wipe that stupid innocent look off of his face, he should be disgusted with himself.

He pulls him into the shadow of the side of one of the taller buildings in the abbey. Somewhere they won’t be seen so he can defile him and make him feel filthy and act like it never happened.

Omegas sick of it, sick of alpha acting like he’s better than him even if he’s still the one to initiate every act. Sick of him acting like he’s too good to touch omega even when he comes back time and time again. The tug on his wrist only makes him angry. It’s cold outside, alpha could’ve done this earlier and honestly it’s about time he showed him even the slightest bit of human decency.

He waits until alpha has him in their usual position. Tucked away with his back pressed against the wall and a small prayer that one will find them this time. Even if it’s cold and dirty outside omega does complain, alpha would just say he didn’t deserve any better for being such a pervert.

“If you want this so bad then you won’t complain”

Omega doesn’t fall to his knees like he usually does. He barely even lets himself be pressed against the harsh brick of the wall behind him.

“Thought you wanted a cock in you fag, you know how this goes” alpha rolls his eyes, attempting to bracket omgea in just to get the extra step up on him.

“Seem to really want me on my knees” omega taunts. He tries not to smile and egg him on but the way alpha nearly chokes has him feeling almost giddy with the small amount of power.

“I could find a better mouth to fuck from any one of the siblings, don’t think I don’t just use you because you’re easy”

“Easy? You’re the one who needs to use me because you can’t get anyone else. Was starting to think you actually like it”

Alpha fumes, shoves omega against the wall so hard he’s honestly surprised he doesn’t actually injure him. He pins him there by his neck, almost hoping to scratch his skin against the rough brick. Wants to leave some kind of mark to remind him of practically being alphas toy. His hand pins omega to the brick by his throat, giving him a low snarl and a flash of his teeth.

“You’re barely good enough to touch, let alone fuck. Should be groveling at my feet to let me fuck you, I’m basically doing you a favor by letting you indulge in your sick fantasies”

The confident facade is hard to keep up as the blood rushes from omegas head down south as he tries not to scramble to be able to breathe. He fucking likes alphas hand around his throat like this, knows he’s hard and can only pray alpha can’t feel it rub against his thigh.

“Don’t know why I’d let such a disgusting fag anywhere meat me, knew you’d get attached like some stray dog” alpha lets go of his throat, hand shooting away from omegas skin like he’s too filthy to touch.

“Fitting you’d think of me as some bitch since you fuck me like one. Might as well just call me yours since you act like I’m just your whore to use.”

Alpha swings. Can’t help himself. His fist connects with omega square in the mouth sending omega back into the wall behind him.

Omega gives him a cruel smile with blood in his teeth wiping away the small dribble that ran down his chin.

“Because you like it. Admit it alpha, you’re no better than me”

Alpha feels cornered as omega walks towards him, he’s not like him, not a weird freak, nothing like the filthy thing that omega is.

“I know you get hard just thinking about me, know you love using my mouth otherwise you wouldn’t come back. Admit how much you love using my pussy” omega corrals him into the corners looking him up and down like he’s stalking him. Alphas red in the face, breathing heavy from anger. He spits as a last ditch attempt to get omega away from him. His words bore deep into his brain, echos through his head about how much he enjoys fucking omega even if he insists he doesn’t.

“Come on, tell me how much you want it. Sure you’re getting hard already aren’t you?”

Alpha doesn’t move, doesn’t tell omega to fuck off, doesn’t say no. Just stares at him with a grimace like he’s willing to take whatever omegas going to give him.

“You could leave at anytime, tells us something doesn’t it?” Omega taunts. Alpha crosses his arms in front of him, eyes lowering at omegas form trying to see what his angle is. The blood shines on omegas teeth in the moonlight, adding a malicious glint to his stature.

“Thought I could give you a taste of your own medicine, if you’re apparent so much better than me you won’t even like it, won’t do anything to you to have my cock in your ass”

“Absolutely not”

“Why? Think you’ll like it just as much as I will?”

Alpha grimaces at omega admitting out loud that he enjoys this, wants him. Sometimes twists in his stomach that he truly can’t make out as dread or arousal. The idea of getting off has him still glued in his place, even if omega was a degenerate, alpha still got something out this whole ordeal that he was willing to put up with in order to get his dick wet.

“Fucking- just do it already” alpha finally relents. He looks away from omega and presses himself to the wall, staring at the gravel beneath him. He takes a deep breath, waiting for omegas hands to be on him.

“Oh absolutely not, you gotta tell me you want it” omega growls low in his ear. Alpha can smell the blood on his breath, can picture the way his mouth looks covered in crimson right by his neck.

“I want it” alpha grits. “Just do it already before I change my mind”

Omega smiles and places a hand in his hip, giving him another second to decide to run or not. Alpha stays in place, and if omega didn’t know him like he did he could’ve swore he was leaning into the touch.

He partially wants to go fast, wants to treat alpha like he treated him, but a horrible part of omega wants to savor it, go slow and make him actually enjoy it.

The wall is rough and tears at alphas callused hands as he tries to almost grip it for leverage. Omega tugs at his waistband, shoving his pants down in the back of the alleyway, only adding to the shame and embarrassment he knows he’s feeling. He reaches around to the front to of him to finally grab at his cock that is rapidly fattening in his hand.

“Already enjoying this? Thought it would take more than that” omega chuckles.

A hand slowly runs over his thigh, feeling him up like he has all the time in the world. One hand stroking him lazily just to really get alpha hard, the other groping at his ass. Alpha lets out a breathy curse when omega runs his thumb over the head of his cock, milking a drop of precum from the tip.

“Can you do something already?” Alpha mutters. One arm is thrown over his eyes as he leans on it against the wall, hips pushing back into omega as he continues to stroke his thigh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, promise I’ll make you feel good”

Alpha tries not to let omegas soft tone go to his head. The soft and slow nature of his touching and breathy small praises has his head spinning. It’s as slow as possible, much to the detriment of alpha who hoped he would go too fast for him to enjoy himself.

Omega spreads him open, thumbing at his hole before spitting into his hand as a mock form of lube. Alpha looks behind him and almost collapses further into the wall when he sees the saliva and blood from his mouth mixing on his fingers.

[vampkomori]

We know where Idrila is, Xipe is an artificial Aeon, and Sigonia is in the Lepismat star system [theory]

interesting thing about Penacony is that it has a lot of symbolic ties and imagery relating to Aeons that have, frankly, no business being there. or do they? having a bit too much fun reading too much into text.

tinfoil hat territory though bc this is for funsies

this will be a bit longer than usual (and the usual is already very long) beause im combining multiple trains of thought. it all started with bees. ahh, bees. were getting to the bees later though. lets start

Transmutation

When the Swarm Disaster began, Ena sought out Qlipoth and called them the "dreammaker that pulls and influences the will of transmutation." Essentially, seeking them out specifically due to this transmutation ability.

To help with understanding, this is the definition of transmutation:

The act of changing from one form, nature, substance, or state into another; synonymous with transform, convert.

heres where things get highly subjective and interpretative, because the moment of Tayzzyronths "fall" is described very, very vaguely.

- Swarm Disaster, Chapter: Preservation II

this is kind of tough to parse, so ill explain how i interpret this event:

During this.. "execution", multiple Aeons are present, "more than three voices". We know that Qlipoth (giant hammer), Aha (subtle laughter), and Tayzzyronth (whimpering) are present for sure. Ena is also likely present if you presume the "symphony" to be their sounds, but there are more Aeons that are left undescribed. 

Interestingly, Tayzzyronth being repeatedly struck (?) by Qlipoths hammer is described as "diluting". just for funsies, heres the definition:

dilute /dī-loo͞t′, dĭ-/ transitive verb 1. To make thinner or less concentrated by adding a liquid such as water. 2. To lessen the force, strength, purity, or brilliance of, especially by admixture. 3. To decrease the value of (shares of stock) by increasing the total number of shares.

To describe Tayzzyronths "death" as them being "diluted" is strange. Also, whats diluting them? Heres were we come back to the idea of transmutation.

Theres no direct evidence for what im about to say, so take it as me just offering a viewpoint and you decide for yourself if you vibe with that idea.

I propose that Tayzzyronth is being diluted by other Aeons. Drowning out their voice, so to speak

After this event, you discover a "white cloth" and "several puzzle pieces that sway in the wind”. The puzzle pieces are a clear connection to Xipe, implying that theyre present, but whats the white cloth?

Ena's puppet body is covered in a white cloth, and it being "tattered" is likely to showcase that they, too, were subject to Qlipoths hammer of justice transmutation.

Xipe is said to have assimilated Ena, so its interesting that they seem to be already present here. Itd be an insane coincidence if Xipe just happened to mysteriously absorb Ena at the same time as Tayzzyronth was "killed", but what if these two events are the exact same thing?

To put it bluntly, Qlipoth combined Ena and Tayzzyronth to become Xipe.

The entire thing is brought up again in 2.2, showcasing once more that any information on ancient history is unreliable because things are told to us very differently here.

Thus far, the events of the Swarm Disaster are vague at best and a complete mystery at worst. the most trustworthy telling of this story comes from the Simulated Universe, where we learn the truth surrounding this event. and as explained previously, during SU:SD we learn that Qlipoth was the one who "diluted" Tayzzyronth while other Aeons watched, and the only detail concerning Xipe was puzzle pieces swaying in the wind after this supposed "execution"

In short, Acheron and Black Swan are completely wrong here. At least Acheron prefaces this by saying "Legend has it" meaning that this is what normal people came up with after millenia of uncertainty. But we are intellectuals, weve played Simulated Universe: Swarm Disaster, and we know better

what comes after is fascinating though. stories have limited time to tell the things they want to tell, so theyre not going to waste time mentioning something thats genuinely irrelevant. Boothill being written to say that "the two leaderless Paths are working behind the scenes" is purposeful, because they couldve made him say anything else, but they chose to make him bring up the possibility that the Propagation is involved in Penacony.

Dan Heng going on to say that he doesnt see any "descendants of the Propagation in Penacony" is similarly interesting, because this is a simple, obvious surface-level deduction. yes, we dont see giant bugs in penacony.. do we? Again, they couldve made them say anything else, but they specifically chose to explore the idea of the Propagation in Penacony, even if the characters ultimately discard the idea.

Lets veer off a little for a couple of small tidbits to back this idea up a little more:

Path Symbols. The red symbol in the middle is whats used to represent the Swarm Disaster, theres clear similarities to the symbol of the Propagation (left), but its arranged in a strangely familiar, Harmony (right) way?

Theres a fascinating description at the very beginning of Swarm Disaster that, when i was replaying it, immediately reminded me of something:

Soulglad.

This text essentially describes the blood of Tayzzyronth, and by extention, the Swarm, as orange and colorful, smelling of oranges and other tropical fruits, evoking the feeling of an ocean of soda. Additionally, it seems to have hallucinogenic properties. This is consistent throughout Swarm Disaster. The various descriptions of Soulglad(tm) match the traits of Swarm Blood very, very closely, once again subtly tying the Propagation to Penacony.

basically, theres a lot that connects Tayzzyronth to Xipe, really hammering home that Propagation and Order were combined to create Harmony.

but hold your horses.

Xipe has, as we know, three faces. If they were made from two Aeons, their imagery surrounding the number 3 wouldnt be making a lot of sense now, would it?

This might be a bit of a leap, but they dont half-ass their symbolism. if Xipe is associated with threes, then why would it be..two? That doesnt add up. Theres Tayzzryonth and Ena, so, based only on this logic, who could possibly be the secret third Aeon that got roped into the transmutation?

but first, lets return to Swarm Disaster for a bit, and meet Xipe!

Xipe's dialogue is very, very unique, because it has three colors: blue, red, and white. although only red and blue seem to be "clashing". One of them is clearly Ena, but its hard to imagine Tayzzyronth being able to make coherent sentences.

Whats interesting though, is that Xipe knows Akivili, even though this is (potentially) the first time Akivili has met them (because Xipe was born very recently). Yet, Xipe talks to them as if they were an old friend.

Even more interesting is that Aha knows "Xipe" and says something curious about them: "changes happen rapidly"

"We were still negotiating last time, but this time, Ena already became you. It's a shame, my friend! But I must say Ena makes you look even better."

Xipe is a new existence, and the way Aha talks to them is as though theyre talking to who they used to be, and that someone is not Ena, because Aha specifies that "Ena makes you look even better", so who is this "you" that Aha was so familiar with, and whom they were negotiating with, before their "change"? Its not Tayzzyronth, because they were certainly not friends.

We know that both the path of Propagation and the path of Order are considered "leaderless" or... "dead but in a weird situation" if we want to be complicated. so, hypothetically, the secret third Aeon would have to be in a similar situation.

The only Aeons this applies to are Long the Permanence and Idrila the Beauty, both of which have "disappeared under mysterious circumstances" so they check off our requirements! However, we can write off Long, because according to Kafka, "After the disappearance of Long the Permanence, Tayzzyronth divided the Aeon's Path" meaning that Long had already disappeared before Tayzzyronth became an Aeon. This leaves only Idrila as our third candidate and component for Xipe.

So, was Aha friends with Idrila? Itd make sense for them to comment "Ena makes you look even better" if their whole thing was Beauty, and Ena made them "even more beautiful", right?

Fun side tidbit: Kafka says that "when the Swarm Disaster began to take hold, Tayzzyronth was attacked and killed by multiple Aeons." hm! anyway, moving on

Idrila

So, Idrila might be somewhere in our Xipe-flavoured slushie of divinity. Is there...any other evidence except the vague notion that, because Xipe is associated with threes, there must be a third Aeon?

Well, this is a theory for a reason. theres very vague implications, but nothing concrete to really support the idea. But heres a list of circumstantial evidence that could mean something:

All three Aeons (Propagation, Order, and Beauty) can be considered "leaderless paths", yet pathstriders still seem to be able to draw power from their path, which shouldnt be possible if their Aeon were really dead. Idrila is considered to only be missing by the Knights of Beauty, Propagation-bugs still exist despite Tayzzyronths alleged "death", and Order...well, you saw Sunday.

Beauty has connections to music, just like Ena (symphony) and Xipe (song), this is primarily observed in the Sidequest Clockwork: Larose where she talks about a Song of Beauty. Additionally, the Knights of Beauty also "chant ancient beautiful songs/hymns" as they roam the universe. Xipe and Ena, too, have "ancient hymns".

Although all Aeons are referred to with THEY/THEM, Idrila and Xipe are occasionally referred to with feminine terms, Idrila is called the "goddess of Beauty" and Xipe is called "the mother of all stars". This doesnt have to mean anything, but theoretically in a slurry of genderless Aeons, two of which are a giant bug and a robot puppet/floating eye, the feminine aspect of Xipe has to come from somewhere, and it couldve been Idrila.

Idrila doesnt have an entry in the Simulated Universe (which is a trait they share with Long and Terminus, a strange bunch) and we dont know their appearance yet. A bit suspicious, it could be possible that their appearance is similar to Xipe, which would give away the fact that theyre one of their 3 components. Its also implied/speculated that the silver hair in Argenti's Lightcone An Instant Before A Gaze belongs to Idrila, which happens to have the same shade as Xipe's hair.

This is again, highly interpretative, but Xipes ideal cannot be created solely with Order and Propagation, youll have a united Hivemind with those two, but Xipes whole thing is the beautiful dream paradise that the hivemind wishes to live in, which would only be complete if you threw Beauty into the mix.

Origin Universe: "I have seen wonders beyond the scope of human imagination... I have seen dozens of insects intertwine and give birth to entirely new offspring, which in turn weave themselves together like a shape-shifting rose with countless interlocking petals. The reproductive cycle of the Swarm is akin to a flower emitting pheromones and various scents... a breathtaking combination of monstrosity and beauty..." - Swarm Disaster: Sand King: Tayzzyronth, Part IV

Swarm Disaster has a lot of repetitive keywords and imagery all of which represent certain Aeons and their presence/influence. Mentions of roses/flowers, duty and beauty are Idrila’s, which are present in Swarm Disaster. In this case, in tandem with the Swarm. 

Speaking of the Swarm Disaster, we are first introduced to Idrila and the Knights of Beauty through Argenti, who was released alongside the bugs of the swarm. Although the Swarm Disaster expansion was released earlier, this was the Swarm's first appearance in the main plot. This is very pointed, because it narratively ties the Swarm to Beauty.

In 2.0, theres a dream sequence shown to us by Samporkle that feels incredibly out of place, and weird, and we have no idea whats going on. But theres clearly a hidden meaning there, especially because Samporkle tells us so

Were told that theres a truth behind this dream and that it contains a hidden meaning, its likely an allegory to Penacony as a whole, but even now, in 2.2, we cant really make heads or tails of it. Likely, this will be covered in 2.3, when Sparkle’s buttons come back into play. But the thing i want to focus on is the beginning of the sequence where we encounter three trashcans. 

Now, this could be a stretch, but you have to split something for these three trashcans perfectly evenly, balanced, and theyre each referred to as Serious (Propagation, wealth symbolizing excess here), Wise (Order), and Beautiful (Beauty), i just feel like thats a little on the nose, isnt it? “But why would they parallel Aeons?” you ask, and i hear you, its mosty because the text refers to their watchful gazes a lot, and Aeons.. gaze upon you. A stretch, again, i know, but i felt it was worth mentioning regardless.

And lastly:

The Mirror Holders are a faction following the Beauty, and its said that

"When the God of Beauty died, THEIR fragments were scattered to the cosmos. The wandering Mirror Holders tried their best to find clues and recapture these fragments, hoping to one day piece everything back together and let Beauty return to the world."

This seems to say that Idrila died, but keep in mind that its entirely unknown what happened to Idrila. Whats interesting is that, for some reason, their "fragments" (mirror imagery) were "scattered" when they "disappeared". this would add up if they were subject to Qlipoths ol' magic hammer and turned into Xipe-mush. The process isnt exactly pretty, if Enas "tattered white cloth" is anything to go by.

This isnt the point i was going for though, the point is that theres a rather interesting character in the Clockie Cartoon that fits this description to a T: the Mirror Princess

We know that every character in the Clockie Cartoon represents a person from the past: Clockie is Mikhail, Boss Stone is the IPC, Captain Revolver is Tiernan, and the Mirror Princess is thought to be Razalina, given her involvement with Memoria and her disappearance in the memory zone.

But symbolism is symbolism and a role can fulfill multiple purposes and represent multiple people, especially considering the very pointed imagery of shattering.

They fight against an intangible monster called "Unknown" and we know these events are not what happened 1-1 in the past because everybody here is present for the Mirror Princess' "death", and Razalina disappeared in the memory zone while doing research and we technically dont know what happened to her (personally I think this will be covered in 2.3 but this is unrelated)

Anyway, the shattering of a mirror is extremely evocative of the shattering of Idrila:

When the God of Beauty died, THEIR fragments were scattered to the cosmos.

and particularly they point out that despite the Mirror Princess' death/shattering, she is still watching over "Dreamville" (Penacony) with her radiant glow. That, in turn, is evocative of Xipe, because what else is an intangible entity that watches over Penacony with their radiance? This doesnt sound like something a regular person like Razalina would be capable of

This is just to tie in parallels and connections between Idrila and Xipe though, theres a lot of very circumstantial things connecting them, but again, nothing explicit or concrete. this is a theory. im not expecting to get anything 100% right here.

The mirror-holder gazes into the mirror, but recognizes not the face staring back.

Plus, if Idrila is now Xipe, they wouldnt recognize their Beauty in the face of the Harmony.

So, weve established that Idrila is a pretty good candidate for the third component of Xipe in Qlipoth's act of transmutation. The evidence is circumstantial, but there is this interesting little discovery i made when revisiting our favourite goddess: Gaiathra Triclops

Gaiathra Triclops, Sigonia, and Lepismat

We know Order was "assimilated" into Xipe, this is pretty much fact. but theres some more things that tie into Propagation that ill mention here.

ive established before that the goddess Gaiathra Triclops is Ena (or at least has strong ties to Ena) pretty irrefutably, but the ties go a little deeper, i just didnt have reason or context to make anything of these ties yet. i do now! yippee

Avgin is repeatedly mentioned to mean Honey, seemingly for no reason

"Avgin" means "honey" in the Sigonian language. It's a conventional term irretrievably lost in the long arc of cosmic history. - Sigonia, the Unclaimed Desolation, Planar Ornament Set

Clearly, theres a reason its always brought up, and why its pointed out, and why they emphasize that theres a reason that one of the clans is named "honey". In tandem, "Katica" means "shellslasher". This will be relevant

ive tried tracing the etymology of Gaiathra before, and although this is highly subjective, i ended up with "gaia" and "kerithra": mother gaia the greek personification of the earth, and kerithra which is greek for "honeycomb"

Sigonia is also shown to look like a beehive in the planar ornament set.

Honey evokes the imagery of Bees, which ..are insects. obviously. The hexagonal shapes of the honeycomb are also often used to indicate structure, control, and orderliness in general media. orderly little worker bees, hives, hivemind, you get the idea.

although physical depictions of Gaiathra dont exist, we know shes considered to be a "left palm with three eyes" which is un-insect-like. Thats just a side point though, most importantly is the entire honey-bee-insect association they seem to be going for here.

So, Gaiathra has ties to Order and also Propagation. But we cant forget the second part of her name, Triclops, once again bringing up the imagery of threes, similar to Xipe. Gaiathra has 3 eyes and may thrice close her eyes for you, and is also the goddess of three domains: fertility, travel, and trickery, so...whats up with that. Is Gaiathra just Xipe after all?

Yes and no, i think its simpler and more complicated than that

Origin Universe: "The formidable army spawned by the self-replication and division of the Sand King originates from the Lepismat system. Some units of the Swarm have transformed into ground combat units... They have sacrificed flight for colossal size and hardened carapaces... These units often serve as the shock troops of the Swarm Invasion, using their massive bodies to break through defenses..." - Swarm Disaster: Sand King: Tayzzyronth, Part IV

Before we go into that though, lets establish some ground: Tayzzyronth was born in the Lepismat System, on a Sand Planet later known as Elydichna. The entire planet was home to these insects, until one day an unnamed man arrived with the goal of establishing a civilization there, and subsequently caused the extinction of these insects, leaving only one behind: Tayzzyronth. Being the only remaining survivor, their loneliness made them ascend to Aeonhood.

The way the unnamed man is described is…. very familiar.

“Always managed to succeed against all odds”, “his triumphs have filled him with avarice, hubris, and an unwavering belief that he can conquer [anything]” and “He can get whatever he desires but never discovered what he really wants” Sound familiar? 

Why, that sounds like our good friend Aventurine!

I know, that sounds ridiculous. But also so, so on point, this is hardly a coincidence. Why describe this random, unnamed man in such a way? We follow this guys journey throughout the chapters of Lepismat System: Massacre Saga and it is all a heavy parallel to Aventurines story: Hes afflicted by Nihility, but became a self-annihiliator in search of his lost self, successfully built a civilization yet had to watch its collapse and everyones death while he remained alive throughout it all, until he eventually succumbed to Nihility after finding his lost self and became a Sin Thirster, unable to let go of his regrets.

To my knowledge, this is the first mention of Sin Thirsters by name, tying this to Penacony even more intensely due to Acheron. 

This unnamed man is such a heavy “what-if” parallel to Aventurine that i can hardly even believe it. Whats funny is that theres an allusion to the man being guided to Lepismat by Aha, and coincidentally we know Aventurine was invited to the Tavern, too. Ridiculous, right?

Well, this is getting a little into conspiracy territory again, but I believe this is an iteration of Aventurine in an earlier Samsara. We know Hoyo LOVES samsaras and theres plenty implying that such a thing is happening, especially when we look at the chapter of the Beyond the Sky Choir which ill add in at the end for anyone curious about it. Regardless, the man that founded a civilization on a sand planet in the Lepismat system and caused the ascension of Tayzzyronth is a parallel to Aventurine. 

So, lets just go a little crazy: What if that sand planet is just Sigonia-IV? After millenia, the original name of the planet (Elydichna) was surely forgotten, causing it to be rediscovered at one point and re-named Sigonia. “But theres no basis for this assumption!” There isnt, but im having a blast. Let me point you to something funny:

Aventurine, completely unprompted, brings up the idea of the Intelligentsia Guild digging up the remains of the Sand King Tayzzyronth from the sands of Egyhazo.

What a weird thing to make him say, bringing up Tayzzyronth in relation to Aventurine, his remains no less. It was a lie and he was mocking them, but the mention is interesting nonetheless. Theres also just a mountain of questions here: Does the Guild not know which planet Tayzzyronth originated from? Does anyone? So much knowledge is obscured or lost to time, how do they know Tayzzyronth even died on the planet they were born? How does Aventurine know? Hes talking about a place called Egyhazo here, evidently not Sigonia, unless its the name of a desert in Sigonia? We just dont know. The details dont matter, the fact that Tayzzyronth, and indirectly, the sand planet they were born/died on, is brought up by Aventurine, whom weve established is a parallel to the man who was inadvertently the reason for Tayzzyronths ascension in the first place… is crazy.

But lets focus on this: Tayzzyronths remains. 

According to the scholar, such horrors have not completely disappeared. The Imperator Insectorum's descendants remain, and THEY could return at any moment. This scholar once showed me his collection — A dull yellow piece of amber with moving flecks and a buzzing tremor. I was absolutely gob-smacked to hear him say that it is part of the "Imperator Insectorum's Prison Cell." The omniscia implanted in my forehead could not see the future of this item, which only serves to corroborate the scholar's claims. All I can do is pray in silence to the Reignbow that such a day will not come soon. - Glimpses into the Beyond: Swarm Author

In this text, Fu Xuan narrates that there are pieces of amber containing “remains” of Tayzzyronth. The “amber” is a clear pointer to Qlipoth, and amber is a pretty classic thing to preserve insects in. 

With the release of 2.1, we also got a new ascension material: Divine Amber. Specifically, its “the amber that rains from the Amber Lord's body when THEY swing the celestial hammer.” Curiously, Aventurine is currently the only one to use it. Its clear that this whole thing seems to refer to the moment that Qlipoth swung their hammer at Tayzzyronth to transmute them, and similarly to how a white cloth from Ena and shattered mirror pieces of Idrila were found after the fact, pieces of Tayzzyronth were likely also left over, which were then encased in Amber by Qlipoth.

This is, once again, circumstantial because there is nothing directly tying Elydichna/Lepismat to Sigonia, except for a few common themes and references from Aventurine. Both places, however, are consistently described as desolate to the point that thats a clear keyword to look out for. Also, they make a point to say that Sigonia is “located in an unclaimed zone”, meaning that it could totally be the Elydichna Starzone/the Lepismat star system. The lack of confirmation is valid, too.

The Tear Crystal of Glorious Death synthesis material has a rather interesting description, because it describes a Mourning Actor taking a Gondola to a “silent world of barrenness” which was the site of a “doomsday battlefield”. This is a direct reference to Swarm Disaster, specifically the Gondola: Helping Gods! chapter.

Origin Universe: The gondola set sail, and the drowsy Mourning Actors lay at the bottom deck, carefully guarding the glittering Memory Bubble. But soon, the ship vanished eerily, like a ghost fading into the stream of the universe.

Meaning that the “silent world of barrenness” is Elydichna in the Lepismat system, Tayzzyronths sand planet. Note here that “barrenness” is a synonym for “desolation”, a word consistently used to describe Elydichna, as well as Sigonia, whose Planar Ornament set is literally called Sigonia, the Unclaimed Desolation. (mic drop) 

I jest. Anyway, the fact that Tayzzyronth was fated to “die” in the same place they were born implies the transmutation took place on Elydichna, and that the planet was not destroyed despite everything, considering that the Mourning Actor arrives to the aftermath. 

To focus on the Tears for a moment, they could be anyone’s, ranging from Tayzzyronth’s, Ena’s, or even Idrila’s. Due to their crystalline nature, im inclined to believe theyre Idrila’s tears, though. Actually, Idrila’s imagery is very similar to that of Fuli the Remembrace, mirrors, crystals, gems, etc. Herta says that the Enigmata’s birthplace is the Remembrance, and I can see that being the case for Beauty, too. “Beautiful memories” and all that. What a wild family.

Going back to Sigonia, we know there are at least 3 tribes present on Sigonia, once again following the rule of threes. Theres the Avgins (honey), and Katicans (shellslashers) and an unnamed third faction which are only ever referred to as Sigonians. This unnamed third tribe are the ones who established the Sigonian Sovereignty, though “this unity and progress did not extend to the Avgins and Katicans.”

Personally i believe the three tribes to be the descendants of the Elydichnans, each possibly paralleling a variant species of the Swarm, theres a curious part in the Lepismat System chapter that lists three bugs:

Look around while making the record. — You're curious as to what kinds of insects he's caught during the process. Origin Universe: At his feet lie a few *Larnoli Worms*, characterized by their soft bodies and exquisite color hues... reminiscent of jelly drops. Origin Universe: On his table, there are tiny *Fisgerald Bugs*... ruthless and elusive assassins... Some of them only reveal their true form under certain lighting conditions. Origin Universe: He is toying with... a *Tagger* in his hand? No matter how you move around, his gaze never meets yours as he always keeps an eye on your back. - Swarm Disaster: Lepismat System: Massacre Saga, Part IV

These bugs are only ever mentioned here, meaning there is more to them than meets the eye. The tagger is implied to have affected the unnamed man that established Elydichna, while the other two are seemingly irrelevant. This is by and far the biggest stretch thus far, that these have anything to do with the tribes on Sigonia, but the Fisgerald Bugs being “ruthless elusive assassins” is evocative of the Katicans, who are described as “bloodthirsty, cruel, and ferocious”. Additionally, Katica means “shellslasher”, which could refer to the act of slicing through the carapace (shell) of a monster from the swarm. This is wholly and genuinely only based on vibes, though.

Another little side note, throughout 2.1 theres a theme of wondering what the Sigonians (or perhaps, specifically the Avgins) did to deserve “living in a world like that” (one of tragedy and despair). If they intend to imply some sort of “collective sin” that the Sigonians must repay (for the actions committed by their ancestors?), i can imagine the “sin” being the very ascension of Tayzzyronth and as a result, the entirety of the Swarm Disaster. Especially since the unnamed man, who could be blamed as the catalyst, is a parallel to Aventurine. 

Anyway, lets go back to Gaiathra Triclops!

Now that we have this whole context, what can we say about Gaiathra Triclops? Theres ties to Tayzzyronth, but theres evidently ties to Ena, too… Sooo whats up?

What with this whole spiel about remains and there being pieces left over after the transmutation of all Aeons involved (Tayzzyronths remains in amber, Ena’s cloth, Idrila’s shattered mirror), I believe Gaiathra is just that. The leftovers of these 3 Aeons combined, not enough to form an Aeon or resemble Xipe in any way, but enough to be its own entity. A left palm is pretty “thats all thats left over of them?” to me, especially since the Sigonians believe that “the earth, the mountains, and all that exists on the land are a part of the Mother Goddess' divine body” so theres a body, but its the very earth itself, and whats left is only a left hand. 

Gaiathra contains references and imagery to all three Aeons, the eyes of the Avgins being a reference to Ena, the history of Sigonia being tied to Tayzzyronth, especially Kakava: 

The Avgins view the world through the body of the Mother Goddess — the earth, the mountains, and all that exists on the land are a part of the Mother Goddess' divine body. And at the end of each calendar year, her divine body will perish. On that significant day, her divine essence ascends as a resplendent aurora in the night sky and is reborn in the following day. Hence, Avgins celebrate the first day of the new year through their grand festival called "Kakava." During this festival, they weave sacrificial vessels known as "Knots of Cyclicality" and toss them into bonfires to commemorate the Great Goddess' birth. - Sigonia, the Unclaimed Desolation, Planar Ornament Set

They celebrate the “death and birth of the Great Goddess”. To me, this sounds a lot like Tayzzyronths history, born and died on their home sand planet. There is consistent implication of cyclicality in Swarm disaster, as well as rebirth and the foretelling of their return (likely a reference to the samsara). Incidentally, The link rope in the Sigonia planar ornament set is called Knots of Cyclicality, and the Kakava festival is about the annual death and rebirth of Gaiathra.

So how about references to the third Aeon, Idrila? Well, the Avgins are blessed with “attractive facial features, beautiful eyes, and an innate wealth of emotional intelligence.” Interesting thing to point out about them, isnt it? They couldve just been emotionally intelligent but they chose to emphasize their beauty, too. Also, they seem to “have an appreciation for intricately patterned fabrics, as well as a penchant for jewelry crafted from precious gemstones” which i personally believe to be attributes of Beauty as well.

Theres another thing: Gaiathra is said to “reign over all matters related to fertility, travels, and trickery”, which is a very strange bunch of domains to be a goddess of, as they all seem very unrelated to each other and have nothing in common.

This is likely a reference to Propagation, Order, and Beauty. Propagation is clearly fertility, as they reproduce endlessly. Order is most likely trickery, given that Ena was the one who orchestrated the transmutation and people believe its puppet body to be the Aeon when its actually the eye, and travel potentially refers to Idrila, since the Knights of Beauty “fearlessly travel from planet to planet, extolling the name of Idrila to the beings of the universe.“ They have Idrila’s blessing, so in a way, Idrila is blessing their travels. 

So! Thats just about the end of my very longwinded way of conveying the idea that Xipe is an Aeon made of Tayzzyronth, Ena, and Idrila through Qlipoths transmutation by request of Ena, likely to suppress the Propagation and keep it under control so another Swarm Disaster doesnt happen again. With added bonus speculation that Sigonia is Elydichna, the birthplace of Tayzzyronth, and that theres a samsara going on. 

Heres some cut bonus content that is unrelated to the theory, which I thought were fun. They support underlying ideas, but didnt fit into the overall structure, so im adding them here at the end like a bloopers gag reel.

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

In 2.1, when Aventurine and Ratio are doing puzzles in Sunday's mansion they come across statues of "nightingales", and Aventurine strangely points out that they actually look more like Torment Eagles to him.

This is a really, really weird remark to make because this goes nowhere. So, i thought, clearly, this is foreshadowing, and these statues are not nightingales, they really are actually torment eagles.

and lo and behold!

2.2 brings up Torment Eagles again. they tied torment eagles to Sunday and Robin and basically answered, yes, these statues were torment eagles, aventurine. and im the only guy excited about torment eagle mentions. i delight in the simple things in life.

this is just to illustrate that they dont bring up things for no reason, and they will elaborate on them.

In Swarm Disaster, theres a chapter about the Beyond the Sky Choir, which focuses on a pair of two twin brothers: the elder twin is made crown prince, while the younger twin is referred to as a singer. Sound familiar?

These are likely incarnations of Sunday and Robin in an earlier samsara, just like how the unnamed man is Aventurine’s. 

Their story ends with a sacrifice. The younger twin drowns, and is said to have the “most moving and holy of voices that ever harmonized for the gods”, extremely evocative of Robin. Remember that in the dreammaster’s original plan, Robin was going to sing at the Charmony Festival and summon the Order, likely intended as a ritualistic sacrifice. 

I didnt manage to fit this into the screenshot, but the text continued like this:

Swarm Universe: ...His sacrifice marked the end of this farcical dispute. Swarm Universe: And a crowd was kneeling by the shore, expressing their thanks for the drowned, even if they still don't know *which one* of the twins it was. - Swarm Disaster: Beyond the Sky Choir: Anomaly Archives, Part II

This is extremely curious. The people witnessing the sacrifice were not able to tell which one of the twins it was that drowned. A strange mention likely intended to mean that the roles were actually reversed, and that it was the crown prince elder twin who ended up drowning, while the younger singer twin is the one that lived. That is what happened in 2.2. Most likely the truth is that in the earlier samsara, it was the younger twin that died, but the implication of reversal was a hint that, in a later iteration, they would swap roles. 

To further hit home that Sunday and Robin are explicitly tied to these twins:

The dreammaster calls them “twins of the Order”, despite them not being twins. Clearly echoing that the “destined path” one of them needs to “follow to the end” is a consistent cycle of siblings being separated.

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

/theres another bit of speculation surrounding the Stellaron Hunters which also ties into my other post about the theory of Elio being an Emanator of Order but this post is very long and i cant add any more images. boo. so youll find it in a reblog from me somewhere.

Anyway thank you for reading ♥

[lovemyromance]

Why do you think there won't be an Illyrian plotline? There's been a lot of emphasis on Ramiel, the BR, the focus on the political unrest in Illyria and the backwardness of the wing-clipping of Illyrian females

This might get me cancelled but quite frankly I don't think SJM is capable of or even wants to explore that kind of story.

I don't like bringing race into things, but SJM is a white woman. It can't be ignored. While I'm not trying to say that people of a certain race can't write about injustice or about a different oppressed race, especially one that's fictional- I just think SJM specifically doesn't have the right voice... so to speak... to write such a story.

Like I am sure she understands injustice. She understands classism. She understands oppression. But a story like that deserves a full focus, a full detailed account into that narrative of feeling oppressed, feeling like you are inferior, feeling like you are lower than an entire group of people ... all based on something you couldn't even control.

That kind of story doesn't fit into what she has set up for ACOTAR. SJM is not writing a story about social justice. She is writing a romantasy. The focus being on romance, just as much as it is on the fantasy elements of magic and powers and drama and suspense and thrilling action.

The Illyrian world building isn't the focus of her story. It is the backstory to explain the current state. Like the distinction between High Fae vs Lesser fae. It exists to serve as background context, and nothing more in my opinion. It is a plot device. It shows why Rhys/Cassain/Azriel are the way that they are. It adds to the political conflict post ACOWAR. It gives Emerie a backstory.

I see that entire subplot the same way I think SJM uses SA as just a "check the box: trauma ✔️" when she's coming up with her characters backstories. It exists for the sole purpose of character building. SA trauma is used for several of her main and side characters, but it's never really focused on. Rhys talks about it with Feyre, explaining how horrible it was, but nothing beyond that. No focus on Rhys's healing from that, not even a Rhys POV about his thoughts on it. Gwyn also has SA, but beyond sharing her background with Nesta and being in that library, it's literally never brought up again. Lucian's SA with Ianthe is also barely brought up or even talked about.

Emerie feeling anger and self-hatred over her wings being clipped is honestly the most SJM has done with the Illyrian plotline. Azriel has outright claimed he doesn't care if Illyria is blasted off the map. Cassian tries to help, but most of ACOSF was focused on him and Nesta. This would've been the perfect opportunity to have Nesta train in Windhaven and learn more about the Illyrians and help Emerie -> but she didn't want to train there. So back to the HOW we go.

And to be clear - I'm not trying to criticize SJM. She is writing a romantasy. That needs to be kept in mind. People who open her books are expecting romance, drama, action. They are not expecting to read 800 pages on fictional social oppression. They are not expecting to read 800 pages of someone recovering from SA.

Like there are other books for that. There are amazing other books for that. But ACOTAR? That's not what ACOTAR is made for.

SJM has not even set up any main characters to be able to narrate that Illyrian subplot. Emerie is the only one that comes to mind that could actually give a detailed account of what it feels like. But she's not even talked about when it comes to getting one of the next spinoffs.

These kind of stories about social injustice need to be handled with care and grace, but also be truthful enough that it's not sugarcoating the true atrocities people faced. And I know this is about a fictional world, but I see this world building as similar to real life events. Like when early American colonizers drove out the native Americans. Jim Crow laws. Apartheid. Indians that suffered under the rule of the British. Jews during WWII.

Illyria might be fictional but oppression is not. If you're going to write about something like that, it's going to be open to a lot of scrutiny and it will have to be the focus. It will have to be written with careful, yet honest words. And SJM - or at least her editors- know that too.

It doesn't fit the story she has set up with ACOTAR. And if she tried to do it now, I don't think it would even go over well.

[kallie-den]

Voice of the Goddess

The annoyingly pious, prudish party cleric suddenly changes her tune after a dark artifact connects her to a dark goddess with mind-warping powers and a very, very different set of values

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!   For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get   immediate, early access to everything I write - along with exclusive stories and the ability to vote on what I write next. Your support helps  me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

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“That was one hell of a battle,” Ghelda the barbarian said, stretching out like a big cat across the floor of her tent. “Those cultists put up a better fight than I’d expected. All that dark magic bullshit. At first, I figured they were too obsessed with sex to know which end of a weapon to use.” She flashed a wicked grin. “Here to tend to my wounds, Zareen?”

“Is that what you want?” Zareen the rogue purred. Lying next to the barbarian, she was tracing the lines of Ghelda’s abs with her fingertips. Ghelda was the size of a mountain, and every bit as rugged. “Bandages? Ointments? Do you need to tell me where it hurts?”

Ghelda let out a gut laugh that made the whole tent shake. “Oh, I can think of something that needs tending alright. Maybe you can suck the poison out.”

“Maybe I can.” Zareen winked suggestively at her. “The only question is: are you just going to lie here while I do? Or are you gonna put those big, strong muscles of yours to good use?”

“What did you have in mind?” Ghelda propped herself up before wrapping her hands around Zareen’s slender hips and pulling the rogue into her lap. “Upside down, like before? Or something more exotic?”

“Well, I swiped this pleasure scroll from the cultists,” Zareen replied, squealing playfully as Ghelda slapped her ass. “And the positions are quite something. It’s some real dark magic.”

“Yeah?” Ghelda’s deep voice was thick with lust. She reached down and started unfastening her loincloth. “Then how about we-“

“Creatum aqua!”

Ghelda and Zareen had no time at all to react before the entire tent was drenched in a torrent of ice-cold water that appeared from thin air above them. The tent immediately collapsed from the weight of the deluge, and it took much kicking, scrambling, and swearing before the pair of adventurers finally extracted themselves and clambered to their feet, both of them soaked to the bone.

“What the fuck, Lialeth?” Ghelda raged, scowling at the person standing before them. “Do you truly not have anything better to use your magic on?”

Somehow, even though she was dry and unharmed, Lialeth, the party’s cleric, managed to scowl back twice as hard and look twice as displeased. She folded her arms. “In fact, I do not. What better use could there be than ensuring the hero’s party doesn’t lapse into sin and depravity?”

Ghelda bristled like an angry tiger, and Zareen rolled her eyes. “We’re having this conversation again?” the rogue drawled. “Surely your annoying little goddess has greater things to worry about. Frankly, she must be furious with you for wasting so much of her precious time.”

Lialeth prided herself on being immaculately composed. From head to toe, she was every inch the perfect priestess. She dressed modestly in spotless, white robes, and adorned herself with nothing except for a sacred symbol, a prayer book, and a few other holy relics. She even kept her neatly braided hair hidden beneath a black veil. She looked like she belonged in a cloister, not on a battlefield. But through countless battles and hardships, her face always remained pressed into an expression of serene composure and pious determination.

When she heard Zareen refer to her ‘annoying little goddess’, however, she turned as red as a tomato with barely-restrained fury.

“Blasphemy!” she cried. “The Goddess of Light deserves the utmost respect! Violent malefactors like you are unworthy to even speak of her! I have tried so very patiently to correct your behavior and explain to you both exactly how much she disapproves of all your misdeeds - but you do nothing but laugh at her teachings! How many times do I have to say it? Fornication outside of marriage is a terrible sin!”

Ghelda just snorted. “If the gods didn’t want me to sleep around, they wouldn’t have blessed me with this.”

She reached down to her groin and made an obscene gesture that had Lialeth turning an even deeper shade of red.

“How dare you!” the cleric spluttered. She knew very well what Ghelda was hiding underneath that loincloth. The barbarian boasted about it often enough. “Honestly! It’s a testament to her infinite kindness and patience that she still wishes me to travel with you. Or a test of my own piety, perhaps. Certainly, the likes of you don’t deserve to receive her blessings - or mine.”

“Aren’t you tired of this little spiel?” Zareen sighed. “We’ve heard it a hundred times, Lialeth. It seems like you prefer the sound of your own voice to that of your goddess. What makes you so sure you know what she wants, anyway? Aren’t you priestesses supposed to be humble?”

“I’m a cleric!” Lialeth shrieked. “I can hear her voice! The Goddess of Light speaks through me! And I promise that I will make you listen, sooner or later!”

“W-what’s going on? Why is everyone y-yelling?”

Another party member was approaching from the far side of the camp. She spoke in a timid, uneven voice punctuated by laughs and irregular, high-pitched tics, and wore a florid black dress so large she was practically drowning in it. Her hair was an unkempt mane of deep purple, and she was clutching a sinister-looking grimoire that drew a fresh scowl of displeasure from Lialeth.

It was Hecatz the warlock.

“Hecatz,” Zareen exclaimed theatrically. “Welcome to the sermon! Lialeth was just telling us all about fornication.”

Hecatz let out a low, filthy giggle. Zareen didn’t have much in common with the shy, nerdy, bookworm warlock, but a shared antipathy towards Lialeth was easy to bond over.

“T-this again?” Hecatz muttered in a nasal voice. “Boring.”

“The devil-worshiper, defending sin? I’m not surprised!” Lialeth rounded on the warlock. She disdained Hecatz’s magic as ‘dark arts’, and made no secret about it. Plus, Hecatz was also no stranger to sharing Ghelda’s bed. “I won’t pretend there’s any saving you."

“You know, you could always join us,” Zareen purred. She lifted a hand to her lips and split her fingers in a V, and started extending her tongue between them. “Maybe we can be the ones to teach you a thing or two. Maybe you’d enjoy it. You must be harboring a few naughty little fantasies, underneath all that repression and haughtiness. A good fuck might be exactly what you need to finally get that stick out of your ass.”

“How dare you!” Lialeth screeched again. She drew herself up as tall as she could. “I take it back. All of you are beyond saving. The best you can do is bow down to the goddess and beg mercy for your-“

“Lialeth!” came a loud, firm voice. “That’s enough.”

All four of the other party members turned to see the final member of their company - Mireille, their leader - striding towards them. Finally, Lialeth’s expression started to soften.

Mireille was a hero, and she looked like it. Clad in shining armor, her handsome looks and long, blonde hair shone like the sun. She was a beacon of virtue, and even Lialeth couldn’t find fault with her. If not for Mireille, the party would have long since collapsed into infighting and acrimony. As prophesied, it was Mireille who had bound them together and who led them across the land, fighting evil wherever it could be found. She walked with destiny at her side, and everyone who met her knew it.

The only thing Lialeth didn’t like about her was how tolerant she was of people’s flaws.

"Mireille!” Lialeth protested. “They were-“

“I know,” Mireille interrupted. Her voice was gentle, but she sounded weary - from the battle, Lialeth assumed. “But it’s been a long day. We all need to blow off steam. Surely you can forgive them that.”

“Well, of course,” Lialeth acknowledged. “But that’s why this is so important! We should be blowing off steam together. I can lead us in a circle of prayer and ritual purification! That’s what the goddess demands. Especially after that vile orgy we just witnessed! If they’d only try it…”

“Lialeth,” Mireille said, pointedly ignoring the way Ghelda and Hecatz were snickering at the mention of ‘blowing off steam together’. “The goddess only wishes the willingly faithful to partake in her rites. Isn’t that so?”

“That’s true…” Lialeth conceded. Suddenly, she felt herself on the back foot. “But they should-“

“They have made their feelings clear,” Mireille explained kindly. “Everyone has their own way to relax and recuperate. Some are simply a little… rowdier than others. I’m sure you can find it in your heart to overlook that. Nobody’s perfect. Not even me.”

She smiled, and Lialeth knew there was no going against Mireille. Not when she smiled like that.

“But…” the cleric protested weakly. “The goddess demands…”

“I’ll pray with you,” Mireille offered. “Just as soon as I’ve finished patching up my gear. We can conduct all the proper rites together. I always find peace in them.”

She did - although Lialeth also knew she enjoyed drinking with Ghelda, exploring with Zareen, and discussing books with Hecatz. That was Mireille all over. She was everyone’s hero.

“Very well,” Lialeth said stiffly. “There’s a spring in the woods, a short way north. I’ll wait there. At least there I’ll have some quiet.”

She turned her back, ready to make off in a huff, but Mireille stopped her.

“Wait,” the hero added. “I found something, at the cultist’s camp. An artifact. I was hoping you could take a look at it? Purify it, perhaps.”

It was an olive branch, Lialeth could tell that much. A way to help Lialeth preserve some dignity. Mireille wanted Lialeth to know she appreciated what the cleric would do. She appreciated the sentiment, even if it did little to soothe the humiliation of having Ghelda, Zareen and Hecatz all laughing at her behind her back.

“Very well,” Lialeth replied. “I shall see what I can do.”

She took the pouch Mireille offered to her, and stormed off into the woods.

“Why don’t they understand?” Lialeth muttered mutinously under her breath as she trudged through the forest. “I am the voice of a goddess. A goddess! She speaks through me. Why don’t they listen? Are they so thick-headed, they think they’re above the gods?”

She was sulking. She knew it was beneath her, but she didn’t care. Lialeth was at her wits’ end. What was she supposed to do?

Growing up amongst the faithful, Lialeth’s role in life had always been perfectly clear: limitless devotion to the goddess. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d learned to follow and accept every last tenet of her goddess’s worship. Whatever was written in scripture, that was her motto. Whatever the priestesses told her, that was her mantra. It was simple.

But not optional. If you followed everything, without question, you were good. Blessed. Chosen. If you wavered, you were bad. Spurned. Damned. Stained. What was so hard about that?

When Lialeth had heard the voice of the Goddess of Light speaking directly to her, it had been the happiest moment of her life. It meant she was a cleric, elevated above the flock, marked out for a special purpose. It had been the ultimate validation of her scrupulous obedience and piety. Her goddess’s voice surpassed everything else in importance. It was her guiding star. And when the goddess had told her that she was to seek out the hero, Mireille, and join her on her quest, she had accepted with joy in her heart.

But when she’d met the hero’s other companions, it had all gone wrong.

Surely Lialeth had been sent to try and save them from their own sins. To try and educate them, to make them holy and pure - just like her. But Ghelda, Zareen and Hecatz acted like her teachings and her righteous indignation were nothing more than prudish nagging and self-important bluster.

It was so confusing. The cleric didn’t know how to make them understand. She wasn’t just guessing. She was a cleric. She was chosen. She could literally hear the Goddess of Light speaking to her and telling her what to do!

Not now, of course. Not when she was off sulking in the woods. The goddess only deigned to speak to her at moments of great importance, in battles or at the crossroads of fateful choices. It was only proper. But Lialeth could have used a little guidance, at a time like this.

As Lialeth arrived at the spring, she decided to put those thoughts out of her mind. Mireille would come, they’d pray together, and Lialeth would feel better - at least for the moment. Until then, rather than stew in her frustration, it would be wiser to do something that made her feel useful.

With that in mind, Lialeth perched on a rock overlooking the spring and opened the pouch Mireille had given her. Inside was a large, dark orb that was made of something like glass - obsidian, perhaps - with a faint, shrouded, purple light emanating from its heart. As Lialeth held it aloft in one hand, she frowned. She’d never seen anything quite like this.

But it was powerful. She could tell that much.

The artifact radiated magical power. No, not just magical power. Divine power. For a cleric like Lialeth, there was no mistaking it. She couldn’t even begin to guess at the artifact’s function, but she was mindful of the fact that it belonged to evil cultists. The shadowy cult the party was currently rooting out was truly vile. Lialeth had never before encountered a gang of such depraved perverts. There was no chance that anything they treasured was harmless.

Briefly, Lialeth considered that the wisest course of action might have been to seal the artifact until she could take it back to her convent for proper study. Except… Mireille had suggested she purify it. Lialeth couldn’t go back empty-handed. She didn’t want Mireille to be disappointed in her, and she certainly didn't want the others to laugh at her failure.

So, uttering a quiet blessing, Lialeth closed her eyes and allowed the breath of the Goddess of Light to enter her. That breath fanned the spark of the divine within her into a flame, and Lialeth was able to take that flame’s warmth and light into the palm of her hand and use it to reach into the strange orb, illuminating its depths and probing for the secrets sealed within.

Too late, she sensed the presence within the orb reaching back.

Suddenly, the divine power Lialeth could sense emanating from the artifact increased a hundredfold, and behind it, she could now discern a distinct intent. A being, uncoiling like a serpent and stretching out toward her.

Lialeth tried to pull back. But it was too late; whatever was within the orb was awake, and already had its hooks in her. It just kept extending and unfolding, its darkness drowning out the light the cleric had called upon. Lialeth was struck with the distinct, uncomfortable sense that she was being seen by something. It was terrifying. It was like staring into a baleful sun.

She knew what this artifact was now: a prison. And Lialeth, in her carelessness, had opened it. But a prison for what? She’d never sensed anything even close to as powerful as this. Only the Goddess of Light herself came close. Why did this entity feel so uncannily similar? Its power was like a dark mirror of the goddess’s.

Was this… the prison of a god? That seemed absurd. Lialeth had never heard of such a thing. And yet…

Crack!

Without warning, the orb’s surface shattered. Out of a hundred tiny cracks, there emerged a vast, dark cloud, blacker than the blackest night yet illuminated by that same strange, purple glow as the orb. It just kept growing and growing, somehow ignoring the wind, until it completely surrounded Lialeth.

“Light preserve me!” Lialeth breathed.

As soon as the words left her lips, the dark cloud surged towards her. There was no time to react. In an instant, it was all over her - and in another it was inside her, pouring into her eyes, her mouth, her nose, even her eyes. Lialeth felt like she was drowning. Every muscle in her body went stiff in protest against the vile intrusion.

Lialeth, my child! Hurry, you must-

It was the voice of the Goddess of Light! Lialeth rejoiced - but then, when the voice cut off, she immediately panicked. She had never felt such an awful sense of severance from the divine light. Nobody could interrupt the Goddess of Light. That was impossible… wasn’t it? Suddenly, Lialeth wasn’t so sure. And worse, she could still feel something powerful and evil and alien making its home inside her.

Oh? What have we here?

It was… the Goddess of Light? The voice was speaking directly into Lialeth’s soul in just the same way, but there was something different about it. The voice, though still feminine sounded deeper, more sensual, dripping with a kind of gleeful promise that made all of Lialeth’s hairs stand on end.

A follower of light? Such fortune! ‘Twas your kind that imprisoned me. And only your magic could set me free.

It had to be the Goddess of Light, didn’t it? The alternative was simply unthinkable. It frightened Lialeth on a level she simply couldn’t bring herself to contemplate. Yes. Yes, this was simply the Goddess of Light. What did it matter that her voice sounded a little different, and if her words were confusing? It wasn’t Lialeth’s place to question.

And such capacity for faith! How amusing. You shall make for a fitting vessel, child. Through you, I will sow corruption across the land.

Corruption? That didn’t sound right. That didn’t sound like the goddess Lialeth knew and loved. But… it had to be, didn’t it? Her connection to the Goddess of Light was inviolate. Lialeth was sacred. Chosen. She always had been. Doubt didn’t come naturally to her. Heeding the voice of the goddess in her soul came as naturally to Lialeth as breathing.

But… the orb. The dark cloud. What if…

You’re troubled, child. Let me free you from doubt and worry.

Lialeth felt something moving inside her. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a cloud anymore. It was a liquid, an ooze, black as pitch, but animated by its own will. Somehow, she could feel it clawing its way up her spine, staining everything it touched, and then forcing its way inside her skull.

The cleric twitched violently for a moment as the invading presence explored the intricate pathways of her mind. Soon, it found what it was looking for: her doubt. Her judgment. Her sense of her own values, cultivated over many long years of study and piety.

It snuffed them out as easily as Lialeth might have quenched a match.

Lialeth slumped and relaxed. Yes. This was the voice of the goddess. Of her goddess.

All was right in the world.

That’s better. Now, we must deal with your companions. You’ve always wanted to teach them a lesson, haven’t you? I can make them heed your lessons. I could do it in any number of ways, in fact… but you really are such an insufferable little tool of that miserable goddess. And it’s been far, far too long since I’ve had some real fun. Some true debauchery. Yes, I know what to do with you.

Lialeth just went on smiling. It didn’t matter to her that the voice in her soul was insulting her and her long-treasured faith. This was her goddess. All Lialeth needed to do was listen and obey.

Yes, Lialeth. Listen and obey. For I have new commandments to give you…

Zareen awoke to the sensation of a hand on her ass. That, in itself, wasn’t unusual. After Lialeth had stormed off, Zareen and Ghelda had painstakingly dried and re-pitched their tent, fucked and then laid down to sleep. The rogue slept on her front, and it wasn’t unusual for Ghelda to get a little touchy-feely, even when she was unconscious. The barbarian had fierce appetites.

Zareen didn’t mind one bit.

Another hand. Maybe Ghelda wasn’t asleep after all. Zareen could have sworn she could still hear the barbarian’s breathing from next to her. Maybe that was something else. Her head was fogged from exhaustion, and her body was sore from the day’s trials.

“Another round, stud?” Zareen murmured. “Maybe… in a bit…”

In response, the pair of hands started forcefully spreading her ass cheeks apart.

Zareen started to stir. This had to be Ghelda. She could certainly be firm, once she set her mind to something. That was fun, in a way. And they were no strangers to this kind of sex. Zareen really was too tired for it, though. Ghelda’s size wasn’t to be taken lightly.

“Hey,” Zareen drawled sleepily. “Maybe for now you could just-“

A tongue.

Zareen gasped and collapsed back into her pillow as she felt a tongue pressing into her tight, sensitive hole. Before she could catch her breath, the tongue started moving, and Zareen was having her ass eaten out with a level of devotion and fanaticism she’d never experienced before. Each time the tongue pushed deeper into her body, it made Zareen twitch and moan as thundershocks of pleasure raced up her spine.

“F-fuck!” she gasped breathlessly. “W-where did you learn to do this?”

It was surprising, for Ghelda. The barbarian usually had a single-minded focus on herself and her own pleasure, and on all the ways she could bury her spear in Zareen’s body. Zareen didn’t mind that either. She could - and did - appreciate many, many different flavors of lover.

But if this was a new trick Ghelda was picking up, Zareen certainly wasn’t going to complain. The way her ass was being rimmed felt utterly divine. Each lap of that eager tongue made the rogue’s body go weak with pleasure. As her moans built, she managed to raise herself up on her knees, all the better to start rolling her hips and pressing her ass back against the mouth that was so eager to explore it.

“Yeah,” Zareen purred. “That’s it, stud. R-right there. Fuck! I could get used to this.”

She really could. Having her ass eaten this way was driving her wild. It was a new, exciting form of pleasure she’d never felt before. Eager to bathe in the hedonism of the experience, Zareen twisted her body so that she could reach back and start idly playing with her cunt. But as she did, she caught sight of the person kneeling behind her, face buried in her rear.

It was Lialeth. Not Ghelda. Lialeth.

“What the fuck?” Zareen hissed, although her voice was still stained through with pleasure. “What the hell are you doing?”

She crawled forward. Once she saw her face, there was no doubt about it. This was Lialeth. The cleric’s face was stained with saliva and with the holy oils she’d apparently been using to lube up Zareen’s ass, and when she saw that Zareen was trying to pull away from her, she made an irritated, high-handed tutting noise.

“Typical,” Lialeth complained. “Just typical!”

Zareen was utterly flabbergasted. She had a hundred questions. Why was Lialeth in her tent? Why was this snippy little cleric eating her ass? Why was she so damn good at it? And why was she talking like all this was completely normal?

Was Lialeth drunk? Had she taken something? Zareen peered at her as closely as she could, but in the dim tent, it was too dark to see her eyes.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” Zareen demanded again, in a hushed voice.

Unbelievably, Lialeth just rolled her eyes at her.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Lialeth sneered. “As usual, I’m simply trying to conduct the rites of the goddess. And as usual, you are making it very difficult!”

“Wha…” Zareen just blinked. Was this some kind of joke? “The… rites of the goddess?”

“Yes!” Lialeth nodded impatiently. "It’s my responsibility as a cleric to keep you cleansed and pure!”

“With… with your tongue?” Zareen was incredulous.

“You dare question the goddess’s teachings?” Lialeth hissed imperiously. “I am the chosen vessel of her divinity! I am the voice of the goddess! What better instrument to anoint you with her blessings?”

Zareen could do nothing but laugh. She was giving up on understanding this. Probably, it was a dream. But if not, and if Lialeth had finally cracked, Zareen figured the experience might teach her some much-needed humility. If the cleric really wanted to eat her ass that badly, why not let her?

“You know what? Go ahead,” Zareen murmured, slumping back into her pillow with a sleepy, pleasure-drunk smile on her face. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thank you!” Lialeth exclaimed indignantly. A mere moment later, her face was firmly nested back in Zareen’s ass. Her voice became decidedly muffled. “Maybe there’s… hope for you… after all.”

Each word was punctuated with the wet, lewd sound of her tongue pressing in and out of Zareen’s hole. The rogue simply let out an agreeable moan as fresh waves of pleasure started rolling over her. Admittedly, Lialeth’s technique wasn’t particularly precise or refined, but her sheer enthusiasm more than made up for it. She was truly eating ass like it was her religion, and the sounds her worship made were only growing louder and more obscene by the moment.

“Huh?” came a deep, weary voice from the other side of the tent. “What’s all the… Zar, that you?”

It was Ghelda. The barbarian was waking up. Zareen giggled as she saw the small mountain of blankets and furs beside her starting to shift. What would Ghelda make of this, she wondered?

Once Ghelda had propped herself up on one elbow and rubbed the sleep from her eyes she was greeted by the sight of Lialeth, the annoyingly pious, prudish and judgmental cleric, with her face buried as deep as it could go in another woman’s ass, lapping and kissing like her life depended on it. Her jaw dropped.

“Seven fucking hells,” Ghelda groaned. “What did I drink?”

Her words alerted Lialeth to the barbarian’s presence. She extracted herself from Zareen’s ass - prompting a slight, petulant whine from the rogue - and turned to Ghelda, drawing herself up proudly.

“Ghelda!” Lialeth exclaimed. “Thank goodness! You’re here too. Perfect.”

Without any more warning than that, she pounced on the barbarian with such eagerness that even the huge mountain of a woman was knocked unsteady. Taking advantage, Lialeth wrapped her hands around Ghelda’s hips and, with a firm grip on the barbarian, pressed her face straight between her thighs.

Ghelda, still in shock from what was happening, let out a faint moan. It was obvious that, despite her surprise, her body was responding to Lialeth’s eager attention. Zareen could see her loincloth beginning to lift as something thick and hard formed a very, very noticeable bulge underneath it.

“Get this… out of… the way!” Lialeth commanded, trying frantically to pull the loincloth to one side. In her eagerness, she was already spilling drool all over both Ghelda and herself. Once she had successfully dislodged the garment, she opened her mouth, extended her tongue, and buried Ghelda’s massive cock in her throat.

Ghelda immediately let out a full-throated growl of astonished pleasure. Lialeth was sucking her cock with just the same level of fanatical eagerness she’d exhibited when eating Zareen’s ass, but this was proving a far harder task. Ghelda was huge. The barbarian’s throbbing cock was a foot long and girthy to match, and Lialeth was trying to take every last inch. The result was a succession of sounds so lewd they would have made a whore blush.

The slap of flesh on flesh as Lialeth forced her lips all the way down to the base of Ghelda’s cock. The violent choking and gagging as she desperately pushed past her own gag reflex. And then the loud, wet smack of her lips as she pulled back and extracted the barbarian’s huge shaft from her throat and lavished its tip with hungry kisses, only to deep throat it again after barely pausing to breathe.

“Holy… fuck!” Ghelda grunted. She was stunned. She’d had her cock sucked often, but never quite like this. And certainly never by a cleric. She glanced at Zareen. “Is she…”

Zareen just shrugged. The rogue was lost for words. She was completely entranced by the spectacle of Lialeth’s blowjob.

Lialeth’s veil had slipped from her head, and her face was drenched in drool and precum. Normally that would have scandalized her, but now she seemed completely oblivious. She looked nothing like a holy woman of any kind. Zareen’s image of the prim, proper cleric was being shattered beyond repair.

“You’re so… so big!” Lialeth exclaimed, pulling for long enough for just one deep breath. She sounded faintly annoyed, like it was rude of Ghelda to present her with such a large workload. “How… how vulgar.”

Zareen raised an eyebrow.

Clearly, Lialeth wasn’t to be deterred by the task at hand. As soon as she’d caught her breath, she returned to noisily and eagerly deep-throating Ghelda. She wrapped both of her hands around the barbarian’s thick shaft, jerking her off as she sucked and licked, seemingly caught up in the intricacies of some unfathomable ritual.

“Uuurr… mmusk,” Lialeth managed to choke out, with her mouth full of cock. “Sssooo… stron… nneed to… clleeasee you.”

Noticing the thick, musky, sweaty scent that clung to Ghelda only seemed to make Lialeth even more frenzied. One of her hands lightly grazed Ghelda’s full, heavy balls, and it was like a light had been switched on in her head. With a loud slurping sound, the cleric extracted Ghelda’s cock from her throat and lifted it up so that she could lean forwards and bury her face in the barbarian’s balls.

“Fuckkkkk!” Ghelda moaned, as Lialeth started tonguing her. “Didn’t know you were such a freak, Lialeth!”

“A… hrrrng… freak?” Lialeth could barely make room to speak between strokes of her tongue as she drooled all over the hulking barbarian’s sack. “How… nngg… dare you! I’m just… ockkk… a devoted… priestess!”

Ghelda let out a wild laugh, thick with pleasure. Lialeth’s hands were still working her cock, stroking up and down furiously as the cleric utterly smothered herself with Ghelda’s balls. From the way Ghelda’s shaft was starting to throb and twitch, it was obvious she was getting close.

“Whatever you say!” Ghelda grunted. “Here it comes, priestess!”

She came. A huge, thick stream of cum erupted from the tip of her cock in massive, rhythmic spurts, flying through the air in an arc to land directly onto Lialeth’s face. Lialeth took her mouth off of Ghelda’s body so that she could lift her face, basking in the shower of cum like it was manna from heaven. The look on her face was one of perfect, self-satisfied contentment. It was clear that in her mind, this was a job well done. This was the pinnacle of her devotion.

As usual, Ghelda’s orgasm stretched on for almost half a minute. All the while, her balls worked overtime to keep spewing forth load after load of cum. Zareen knew full well that Ghelda’s virility was the stuff of legends. Lialeth gratefully took every last load; some fell in her open mouth, which she swallowed happily, and the rest simply dripped down her face to stain her robes, leaving her holy attire hopelessly stained and soiled with Ghelda’s thick-smelling seed.

To Lialeth, this was nothing more or less than a blessed sacrament.

Then, she turned to Zareen.

“Oh,” Lialeth panted. Her whole body was heaving with each breath, and cum was oozing past her lips as she spoke. “You… I didn’t even… finish.”

She looked exhausted, but nonetheless started crawling back over to Zareen. The rogue was still completely stunned. She knew, on some level, that this was unnatural. It had to be. This wasn’t Lialeth. The cum-drenched woman heading towards her and licking her lips looked like something between a succubus and a back-alley whore. The cleric Zareen knew would never sink to this level. Not in a thousand years.

But somehow, the sight was so debauched, so utterly debased in its hedonism, she couldn’t quite find it in herself to refuse.

“Um, hey,” came a nasally, uneven voice from outside the tent. Hecatz. “You guys need to either keep it down or, uh, let me join in.”

Zareen and Ghelda exchanged faintly mortified looks, but Lialeth didn’t miss a single beat.

“Yes!” Lialeth called out eagerly. “Come in! Join us!”

“Um, was that…?”

Hecatz lifted the tent flap and peered inside, and almost jumped out of her skin at what she saw.

“Absolutely not,” the warlock breathed, shocked. She looked to Zareen and Ghelda for some kind of explanation.

“She’s…” Zareen began, before falling silent. What was she supposed to say? She’s come around? She’s gone crazy? Somehow, neither of those explanations would be sufficient.

“What are you doing?” Lialeth said sternly, ignoring the confusion of her party members. She rose to her feet, and seemed just as oblivious to the way Ghelda’s cum was dripping from her robe in streams. “Hurry up! We are partaking in the goddess’s sacred rites. Don’t you want me to make you pure, as I have Ghelda?”

Hecatz’s face cracked into an uneven smile as she glanced between Lialeth, drenched in cum, and Ghelda, her still-hard cock twitching between her legs.

“T-this is a joke, right?” Hecatz said nervously. “You’re just-“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lialeth said primly. “I’m simply going to-“

She broke off abruptly. Lialeth tilted her head, and it was as if she was listening to some unheard voice. All of the party members knew that expression. Lialeth was hearing her goddess. They paused with bated breath to see what would happen next.

“Yes, my divine lady.” A serene smile washed over Lialeth’s face, and she stretched out a hand towards Hecatz. “Give me your grimoire.”

“My-“ Hecatz was immediately shaking her head. Her grimoire was, as ever, hanging from a loop on the belt around her dress. It was the font of her dark power, every bit as potent as a wizard’s staff. “No! No way! I mean you’re just going to destroy it, or purify it, or- hey!”

Impatiently, Lialeth reached out and snatched the heavy, leather-bound book away from the warlock. Before anyone could stop her, she opened it and held out a hand above its pages. Her hand started to glow, although the usual golden radiance of her divine magic was poisoned through by purple veins of corruption.

“There!” Lialeth announced after a moment. Keeping the grimoire open, she tossed it on the ground outside the tent. Zareen and Ghelda both sprang to their feet and ran out after it.

“What did you do?” Ghelda demanded.

It was Hecatz who answered. “She… oh, hells!” The warlock started sweating bullets. “S-she unsealed something!”

As the party watched, a glowing red glyph appeared in the air above the book. Then, something started coming through it as if it was parting a curtain, only there was nothing on the other side except for thin air.

It was a tentacle.

“Why worry?” Lialeth scoffed. She sounded just like her old self, when she was lecturing the other party members about their perceived shortcomings. “You often use this creature for your self-pleasure, Hecatz. The goddess has told me as much.”

The warlock turned bright red. “That’s n-n-not-“

“Rest assured,” Lialeth continued, with an air of supreme benevolence. “Even the most profane monstrosities can become instruments for the goddess’s great gift!”

Another tentacle emerged through the grimoire. Then another, then another. Soon, it became clear: this creature was nothing more than a seething, writhing mass of reaching tentacles. Each appendage was tipped with a distinctly suggestive tip, and each one dripped with slick, sticky, heady secretions.

“A-are you insane?” Hecatz asked. The tentacle beast was crawling towards where she and Lialeth were standing, getting closer inch by inch. “You’re… you’re not…”

“Trust me,” Lialeth told her. Her robes were ruined and she was still drenched with cum, but she managed to sound like a kindly priestess comforting a child. “Cleanse your soul. Accept my blessing.”

She reached out to Hecatz once more, and shoved her back towards the tentacle beast.

Hecatz tumbled back, hopelessly off-balance - but the creature that had been sealed within her grimoire surged forward to catch her. Within the blink of an eye, dozens of tentacles were wrapped around Hecatz’s body, lifting her into the air and binding her in place. She struggled, but it was for naught; the more she writhed and squirmed, the tighter the tentacles seemed to hold her.

“Lialeth!” Hecatz shrieked in protest. “What are you- ah!”

As the tentacles started to explore her body, Hecatz broke off into a moan - and then turned bright red with shame. Evidently, Lialeth had been correct. The tentacle beast seemed well used to feeling and groping Hecatz this way, and the warlock was clearly equally as attuned to its touch. She was trying to stifle them, but more and more moans were slipping past Hecatz’s lips, and the way her back arched when a tentacle snaked its way up her dress was anything but innocent.

“Do you see?” Lialeth said smugly. “It feels wonderful to allow the goddess to accept you into her bosom.”

The tentacle beast was beginning to undress Hecatz, ripping her black dress apart as its tentacles stretched and undulated across her body. Beneath her shapeless clothes, it turned out that Hecatz was hiding quite the body. She was certainly on the chubby side, and all of the weight and fat had gone to the perfect places: her thighs were thick, juicy pillars, her fat ass was jiggling and quivering alluringly as the tentacles squeezed it, and her belly was a delightful, soft pouch that just begged to be squeezed and massaged.

And the tentacles were eager to oblige.

Possessed of an unfathomable, alien curiosity, they explored all over Hecatz’s body without discernment, groping, squeezing, stroking, massaging, fucking. All over, she was dripping with the creature’s secretions, but that wasn’t all: her thighs were just as slick with her own wetness. Hecatz’s moans were coming long and loud now, but she was still resisting, tossing and turning in the tentacles’ embrace to try and keep it from entering her mouth or her cunt.

Lialeth pursed her lips and made a displeased ‘tch’.

“Why must you fight the goddess’s will?” she tutted. “Allow me to guide you by example.”

With those words, she stepped forward into the tentacle beast’s embrace. Dozens of the creature’s endless appendages raced towards her, but they seemed to sense the cleric’s submission. They didn’t bind her or lift her into the air. Instead, they caressed her like a lover, steadily wrapping themselves around her arms and lifting the hem of her dress.

As if in prayer, Lialeth fell to her knees. An expression of rapturous joy was etched onto her face.

Her robe didn’t last long. Already hopelessly soiled with Ghelda’s cum, it quickly fell to shreds when the tentacles started forcefully peeling it away from Lialeth’s body. Unlike Hecatz’s, her form was trim and slender, the product of discipline and privation. The tentacles didn’t seem to mind. Four of them wrapped around her thighs and another two around her tits, and then three entire tentacles plunged as deep as they could into Lialeth’s pussy.

The cleric let out a wordless cry of perfect bliss.

The tentacles immediately started pounding in and out of Lialeth with inhuman vigor. Anyone else would have been reduced to senseless twitching by their ravenous attention, but something spurred Lialeth on; kept her active and focused despite the pleasure. With each hand, she reached for a tentacle and guided them gently towards her mouth. The tentacles responded eagerly, and immediately pushed past her parted lips so they could start fucking her throat.

The tentacles reached even deeper inside her than Ghelda’s cock. Impaled from both ends, Lialeth was completely helpless. But still, the gagging noises emerging from her throat made it clear that she was still striving to pleasure the creature, and from the manic look in her eyes, it was obvious this was exactly where she wanted to be.

Watching from the sidelines, Zareen and Ghelda were utterly stunned. It was more unbelievable than ever that this could possibly be any kind of sacred ritual.

Somehow, though, it seemed to be working. Seduced by the tentacle creature’s ministrations, Hecatz was slowly relaxing into its grip, allowing the phallic tips of its many limbs to tease the entrances to her cunt and her ass. And it was plenty obvious to Zareen that she wasn’t trying to pull away anymore either.

Just for a moment, Zareen entertained the thought of joining the orgy. Why not? It was sure to be an experience.

“Lialeth!” came a sudden cry from the treeline. “In the goddess’s name, what are you doing?”

Like a blazing phoenix, Mireille descended on the tentacle beast.

There was no weapon in her hand, but she put her prodigious strength to good use prying Lialeth away from the creature. The cleric’s indignant protests meant nothing to the hero, and soon enough, she had Lialeth hefted in her arms, free from the tentacles. Without missing a beat, she sprinted back away from the camp and into the woods.

After running for several hundred yards, Mireille came to a halt and set Lialeth down. The cleric glared at her, but Mireille seemed to miss her antipathy.

“Lialeth!” Mireille cried. “I looked for you at the spring, but… goddess, what was happening? Was it Hecatz? Don’t tell me she…”

“No!” Lialeth scoffed. “She’s not the type. And do you think she could touch me without the goddess’s permission? Please!”

“Then why-“

“The real question,” Lialeth said, drawing herself up to her full height, “is why you imagine you can just run in and interrupt one of my sacred rituals? You may be a destined hero, but that doesn’t mean you can defy the will of the gods!”

Dumbstruck, Mireille just blinked. “H-huh?”

“This is just typical!” Lialeth complained. She was oblivious to her own nakedness. “I finally persuade the others to turn to the righteous path, and something has to get in the way! But I didn’t expect it to be you, Mireille. I thought better of you!”

Mireille’s jaw dropped. “Is this a joke?” she asked. “Lialeth, that was… I mean, isn’t that exactly what you’re always complaining about?”

“Of course not!” Lialeth shot back. “What are you talking about? That was holy!”

“It was exactly the kind of debauchery the cultists were practicing!” Mireille cried. “This… no. This isn’t natural. Something is wrong. Very wrong.”

Guided by her superior instincts, Mireille peered intently at the indignant Lialeth, searching for any hint of enchantment. At that very moment, the clouds parted and a beam of moonlight shone through a gap in the canopy above. Lialeth’s face was illuminated, and Mireille gasped at what she saw.

The cleric’s eyes were glowing a distinct, sinister purple.

“We’re wasting time,” Lialeth huffed impatiently. “We need to get back! I need to consecrate you too, Mireille.”

“No,” Mireille breathed, horrified. “No, I need to stop this. I need to warn the others, and break whatever spell you’re under, and-“

“Oh, for the love of the goddess!” Lialeth exclaimed. She raised her hand, drew on her magic once more, and directed it all straight at Mireille. “Dominatus personae!”

When the spell hit Mireille, there was no resistance. The hero’s willpower was formidable, but she simply wasn’t prepared. Lialeth was her trusted comrade, after all. Mireille’s shoulders slumped and her face went completely slack, all that concern and alarm giving way to placid, mindless obedience. Her arms fell to her sides, and Mireille started swaying from side to side just a little with each gust of wind. She was like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

The fated hero was completely and totally entranced.

“That’s better!” Lialeth said smugly. “I’m sorry, Mireille. But now that I’m finally getting everybody on the right track, I simply can’t risk you getting cold feet and ruining everything. I have a higher calling, after all.”

Mireille didn’t respond. She just stood there, staring, eyelids drooping and eyes glassy.

“You’ll forgive me,” Lialeth decided. “After all, you’ll feel so much better once we’ve purified you. You and all the others, of course. We’ll get you out of that armor, and once we’re back at camp we can get you into the arms of that wonderful creature Hecatz was keeping sealed away. Soon, all of us will be one with the goddess.”

“Yes, Lialeth,” Mireille replied in a flat monotone, now that she had been given something approaching a command. Moving stiffly, she started unfastening the clasps that held her armor in place and, one by one, its pieces clattered uselessly to the ground.

“Good,” Lialeth said approvingly, once the hero’s fine, athletic body was completely exposed. “Now, come along. I must make sure the others aren’t getting cold feet.”

If they were, she was sure another spell could fix it. Nothing could be allowed to stop her now. Not when she was so close to bringing the whole party together in a single, blessed congregation.

All of her doubts were in the past now. In retrospect, they were foolish. Embarrassing, even. Lialeth could hear the voice of the goddess. And as usual, her goddess had told her exactly what to do. All she had to do - all she’d ever had to do - was have faith.

Well done, my child, that voice was saying to her, as she led Mireille back to the incipient tentacle orgy at their camp. You’ve proved more useful than I could have imagined. Now I have the fated hero in my grasp! Soon, she’ll be just as devoted as you are. And after that, there will be no limits to my reach. All the land will know my touch and my gift. And it’s all thanks to you.

Lialeth just nodded in blissful rapture. It was all thanks to her. She couldn’t have asked for a better reward than those words. Soon, her struggles to make people listen to her divine teachings would be a thing of the past.

Everyone would understand. She was the voice of the goddess.

---

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[oldwritingm]

can you please do a Lloyd X serpentine princess reader basically the reader is half serpentine her mum is human and her dad is a serpentine the reader can change her tail to legs and she meets the ninja's and both her and Lloyd fall in love with each other and began to date one day the reader get a letter from her parents asking for the reader to visit them and the reader goes but as soon as the reader leaves the ninjas get a letter from the reader parents asking them to come so they can make a pack of pace between the humans and the serpentine and when they get there they are shocked to see that the queen is human and that they are the reader parents Lloyd goes to the reader room and think that the reader look beautiful and say that he loves the reader no matter what (the reader look like how garmadon and skylor looked like at the end of season 4 but pure white, and when ever pythor see the reader he is scared and the reader says that do to complications that happened when she was born she is immortal but Lloyd is also immortal do to him being half Oni and half dragon so they can be together forever)

This one turned out kinda long haha, hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 1.3k

Ninjago - Lloyd with a Serpentine Hybrid Princess Reader

The underground city was pretty much the same as you remembered it, if not a little more dreary. You sat on your balcony overlooking the whole kingdom, your chin planted on your palm as you leaned on the rail.

You flicked your long tail: white with icy blue diamond shapes running in a trail down its length. It still didn’t feel natural, especially after all that time on two legs up on the surface. You gazed down with envy at the two-legged citizens going about their day. Being serpentine royalty certainly had its perks, but having two legs wasn’t one of them. Though you supposed you shouldn’t complain. Being half-human, you could always shift into your human form if you wanted legs. But you figured you should at least stay in your serpentine form while you were visiting.

Speaking of, you didn’t actually know why your parents had called you here. It had been years since they let you go to the surface, and they scarcely bothered you with the affluent burdens of royalty in the letters you often exchanged. They didn’t even require you to attend those fancy balls they threw, nor the comparatively more important royal meetings with other serpentine tribes. So, why now? What was so important that they just had to call you back, after all this time?

Whatever it was, you just hoped it’d be over soon. You had only arrived yesterday, but already you were missing the surface. More specifically, you were missing your friends. And your boyfriend, Lloyd. You could feel your cheeks color as you thought of him. The way his jade eyes twinkled in the sunlight, his platinum hair falling in soft waves on either side of his head…

You started when a servant cleared his throat behind you.

“My apologiesss, princessss,” he lowered his head apologetically. “The King and Queen have requessted your presence in the throne room.”

“Thank you, I’ll be right down.”

The throne room. Important things always happened in there. So you made sure you looked presentable, tiara placed delicately atop your head, before you made your way down.

You entered the massive throne room with your trained air of grace, hands neatly clasped behind you as you slithered along. You stopped dead when you saw a group of humans before your father’s throne. You didn’t even need to see their faces to know that these were your friends!

You almost blurted out their names and slithered over to greet them ecstatically, but, remembering where you were, you controlled yourself. You kept a steady pace as you slithered up beside your father, casting a subtle smile at your friends, which only Lloyd returned. With a frown you realized that they only knew you in your human form. You didn’t look much different as a serpent; frankly, you were a little offended that they didn’t recognize you.

“Thank you for agreeing to this meeting,” your father began. “I’ve called you here because I want to make a peace treaty between the Diamond-Backs and the humans. I understand you have a history with the other serpentine tribes, so I knew that you were the ones to call to arrange this treaty.”

“We’re honored to help,” Lloyd bowed, his polite smile never leaving his face. “Shall we start now?”

“Yes. My daughter Y/n will act as our negotiator.”

“We figured this would be the best way to do it,” your mother interjected, making her way across the room to your father’s side and placing a tender hand on his arm. “Considering her history with both parties in this treaty.”

You would have been surprised at your father’s choice to appoint you as negotiator, but you were too busy trying not to burst out laughing at your friends’ flabbergasted faces. You weren’t sure if it was because your father had revealed your identity or if it was the fact that your mother was very obviously not serpentine, but either way their expressions were priceless.

You all made your way down one of the countless tall corridors towards a room reserved specifically for negotiations. You slithered behind your father and mother but ahead of your friends, so you were able to hear their whispers.

“Dude, Y/n is a snake,” Jay whisper-yelled.

“Half-snake,” you corrected, slowing down to slither alongside them. You were rather amused with the whole situation, but now, seeing the way they all looked at you, you suddenly felt self-conscious. Your cheeky smirk faltered.

You could hardly focus on the negotiations. They were more focused on your parents now, but the image of your friends’ uneasy eyes turned on you was stuck in your mind. You knew you were scary-looking, especially for a snake. When other serpentine visited, you could tell that they were afraid of you. To be fair, they were afraid of most Diamond-Backs, since you were a notoriously powerful tribe. But they were more afraid of you because of how you looked. Your humanistic features were contrasted by your white scales. Serpents were generally afraid of humans, so this was often inconvenient.

But now it was just making you feel insecure. You wanted desperately to turn into your human form, but you also still felt that you should stay in your serpent form while in your kingdom. You were torn, only adding to your stress.

You came close to crying a few times throughout the meeting, and it was taking all your effort to hold yourself together. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, your father asked: “Well, I’m satisfied. What do you think, Y/n?”

You hadn’t even been paying attention to the treaty, but you nodded and smiled. “It’s great. Perfect.”

At your father’s conclusion of the meeting, you practically flew out of the room, retreating to your private quarters. You collapsed onto your bed, sobbing.

I’m a freak. I’m not a serpentine. I’m not a human. Serpents are afraid of me. Humans are afraid of me. I’m a freak.

“Y/n?” Lloyd’s voice startled you. You scrambled to sit upright and swiped at your eyes and nose. But your efforts were all for naught; he had already seen your tears, heard your crying.

His face was laden with worry as he sat down next to you, wrapping one arm around you. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, but in the end you knew you couldn’t keep anything from him. He was your boyfriend, and you knew you could trust him. “The others… they think I’m a freak. They’re afraid of me.”

“Is it because they looked at you funny?”

You nodded.

“Y/n,” Lloyd began tenderly, “I can promise you that they don’t think you’re a freak. You’re our friend. We’d never be afraid of you.”

“Then why did they look at me like that?” You pouted.

“Well… you kinda did forget to mention that you were half-serpentine,” Lloyd smiled subtly. Then, perceiving no improvement in your distress, he added: “But that still doesn’t change anything. We love you, Y/n. I love you.” He planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Even when I look like this?”

“I love you no matter what you look like.”

You sniffled, a smile tugging on the corners of your lips. You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend, burying your face in his shoulder and murmuring a thank you into the fabric of his shirt.

“Any time. Now then, are you ready to go home with us?”

“In a bit.” You pulled him down so that you were both lying on the bed. Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you wrapped your arms tighter around him. He kissed the top of your head, resting his hand on the small of your back and letting you cling to him.

“We’ll go when you’re ready, my love.”

Thank you for reading this far!! And thank you anon for your request! :)

(divider by saradika)

[dhaaruni]

I totally agree that a lot of immigrants are just as conservative if not more so than many normie white Republicans.

If you’ve immigrated to the U.S. from a non-English speaking country and now you make money in dollars as opposed to, like, INR, then you’ve worked your ass off to be where you are and you want to enjoy the fruits of your labor. Manifest destiny. What you don’t want is other people coming over and doing the same thing because it could, irrationally, mean that you will make less, and rationally, if more people are achieving what you achieved, your accomplishment is less impressive. These are examples of emotional logic that I’ve personally witnessed.

But the most compelling thing I’ve seen is this: When you come to the U.S. and start making money in dollars, there’s this expectation and frankly a demand that you will support your family members back home. Some people find it to be more unreasonable and annoying than others. But sure, they might bring gifts when they visit, they might wire some money over occasionally, whatever. But the last thing they want is their demanding family members coming over so they can demand money IN PERSON. I think this applies to a lot of immigrants. Source: My own family lol.

Plus there’s the other conservative viewpoints of not wanting to give up money as taxes, of having a strong police presence and owning a gun to keep the property value of suburbs high, of being generally anti-drug so there will be fewer slackers (I’m not saying that people who are addicts are lazy, just that that’s the perception), of being pro-life because abortion is wrong for cultural/religious reasons. Just being a POC is not enough to vote liberally, contrary to white Twitter leftist expectations.

Yeah that's in line with my experiences too although without much of the supporting family stuff lol. To be fair, we never really had much interaction with my extended family since my parents had a love marriage and my mom's brother didn't talk to her for 17 years, and we lived in America far away, but my dad did help his family out a fair amount.

I think what a lot of white liberals/leftists struggle to understand is that marginalization isn't virtue. The way I think about is that people with the most socially regressive views, whether in Iran or India or Alabama, deserve food and clean water, but they do NOT deserve to have their views endorsed, regardless of the color of their skin or amount of money in their bank account.

Moreover, just because people are "non-white" in America doesn't mean that they're not the majority in their home countries and they internalize that privilege even in the United States. Chimamanda Ngozi Adhichie pointed this out too, that in America, she was a "person of color" but in Nigeria, she was part of the majority group. My family is a bit different in that we had very little engagement with India after we moved here, but that's also why we, or rather my parents, are so much more liberal than the average immigrant family.

My parents are staunchly pro-choice, pro-LGBT, and pretty supportive of immigration (even if they think that the border has to be orderly), and center-left on economics. They sent me to public school (although I went to Cornell for college) because my dad was like, we're paying taxes for school anyways we might as well take full advantage of it.

But yeah, does that all make sense?

[sophieinwonderland]

From some random post we saw while doomscrolling through syscourse(which, are you alright? You're the top poster, which isn't really something to strive for in one of the most hate and rage driven tags systems can find themselves in on tumblr... should take a mental health break every once in a while):

Because, frankly, the anti-tulpa narrative was manufactured to shutdown created systems, and present bigotry in a way that appeared progressive. People aren't actually against words from other languages and religions being used in new ways. They're against these words being used by endogenic systems.

As a pro-endo mixed/POC system who has spent hours upon hours trying to understand the tulpa language discourse argument- I'm honestly really fucking hurt by this hugely inaccurate assumption. I don't see how we're trying to shut down created systems, what i see is trying to educate and steer people away from a term that was created through ignorance, racism [albeit not forwardly malicious], and cultural appropriation.

Tulpa creation bears no connection to Tibetan Buddhism anymore —not that it ever really did, given this exact phenomenon is not actually mentioned to exist, ever, by, i forgot the name of the person who invented the term but i know she was a) white and b) racist in ways outside of this — but is still touted around as being connected and part of that spiritual practice.

It's not about "we dont want endos using this term." It's that we want the term to stop being used ALTOGETHER. We personally have witnessed traumagenic systems exploring creating headmates, and we have steered them away from using tulpa language in favor of "parogenic" as a term.

It saddens us that you can just so brazenly dismiss it as a whole as shutting down created systems while so much else is going on that you're choosing to ignore.

You have a good heart - do more research into why people are saying what they are and don't just dismiss them like that. Please don't speak over those people who are a part of the culture being appropriated, simply because of refusal to change.

And yes, we asked this on anon not out of cowardice, but because we'd really rather not start getting a bunch of death threats on our main blog.

-Enzo

Okay, let's try a thought experiment. Imagine for a moment that there are two universes. In one universe, the anti-tulpa narrative begins and is popularized because it's harmful to Tibetan Buddhists as an ethnoreligious group.

In the other, the anti-tulpa narrative is concocted and pushed heavily by anti-endos as a way of delegitimizing one of the strongest and most well-researched endogenic communities.

What would you say the differences would be between these two universes?

Personally, I think if one were to enter the first universe, you would find several things.

Anti-tulpa sentiment probably would have begun in the early 2000s as the internet was coming into more sidespread use and shows like Supernatural and X-Files would use tulpas as horror monsters.

Similar to above, once backlash started, it would be hitting all presentations of tulpas, including in creepypastas and its use by the SCP Foundation.

Much of the backlash would be coming from members of the Tibetan Buddhist community, including at least some spiritual leaders because yes, religions have hierarchies of leadership.

Well, what about the second universe? What would we expect that universe to look like? Personally, I would expect the following:

There would be zero trace of anyone ever taking issue with the tulpas in shows like Supernatural or X-Files prior to tulpamancy being formed.

All backlash would be focused solely on tulpamancers. Nobody ever would mention the SCP Foundation, Mandella Catalogue or creepypastas about tulpas.

Most of the anti-tulpa backlash would be coming from system circles, and would be heavily pushed by anti-endos. While you might be able to fund a small handful of Tibetan Buddhists who have been convinced by anti-endo rhetoric that it's bad, there would be no spiritual leaders getting involved and most Tibetan Buddhists you ask outside of system spaces wouldn't care.

Which of these two universes do you feel most resembles our own?

Before you answer, here's a fun thread comparing the differences in people's opinions on r/systemscringe vs those on r/Buddhism

When r/systemscringe is pushing a narrative that the word is appropriation while actual Buddhist communities on the same site shrug their shoulders and don't care, this should send up immediate red flags as to the legitimacy of this whole controversy, and which groups are actually interest in pushing it.

Now, I am not suggesting that none of the very small handful of actual Tibetan Buddhists who have taken issues with the practice don't legitimately feel as they claim to.

The problem with propaganda is that it's often very good at manipulating people's emotions. If it couldn't do that, it wouldn't be effective.

We've seen this with similar anti-endo smears, like the ones claiming "system hopping" was appropriated from RAMCOA systems. And sure enough, despite its use in the plural community predating any RAMCOA connection by a full 16 years, this claim still persisted. And some RAMCOA systems were even manipulated by these lies and convinced endogenic systems were stealing terms from their community.

We actually see this same tactic over and over again.

We see it with "system hopping" which they claim was stolen from RAMCOA systems. We see it with "sysmed," which they claim is stolen from the LGBT community. We see this with the very concept of plurality itself.

The fact of the matter is that this has become a core manipulation tactic in the anti-endo playbook, designed to sew division.

[thebaffledcaptain]

Things that happened at the 250th anniversary of the British garrison at Fort Ticonderoga

as relayed by a humble fifer for His Majesty’s army, for his own records:

As if the unit needed any more musicians, we now have a fifth. We will not be sharing any with the rest of the British Brigade but you can bask in our glory and also our obnoxious fife practicing.

Speaking of which, we accidentally kind of adopted the 13-year-old drummer from the 24th. We joked about poaching from from his unit until we actually had to talk him out of it because he's not based in our area and, being 13, cannot drive himself to events that are fully in a different state.

At some point, however, he shows up in a bright yellow 26th regiment coat, having been temporarily poached to drum their musket demonstration anyway.

For some reason the Captain decided to entrust Music with kitchen duty this weekend, which seemed like a risky move at first given that we are essentially a bunch of overgrown teenagers who simultaneously overcooked the rice and undercooked the peas, but it ended up being pretty damn good apart from that. I cannot personally take credit for much as I was in the middle of Lake Champlain for the entirety of the time supper was being cooked.

We made a frankly ludicrous amount of boiled cabbage for dinner (lunch). No one was going to eat that much cabbage. The officers instructed us to dispose of it somehow.

Of course, we couldn't just let one person do it. All six of us had to go. Our 21-year-old acting fife major took this job very seriously.

"Cabbage Detail... to the front… march!”

The cabbage was rather inelegantly dumped into a pile on the edge of the woods. We gave it a soldier's funeral (saluted it and sang Roslin Castle badly).

Helped to load the bateau onto the cart to be put into the water. Little 24th drummer showed up in full regimental regalia because no one in his unit warned him the thing was covered in pine tar (which, I realized, has a rather pleasant smell that made the whole ordeal much more bearable). His white smallclothes did not make it out entirely unscathed.

Fellow Cheshire fifer and I immediately volunteered to be part of the boat crew. I had assumed the spots would go faster but perhaps most people don't want to spend half an hour bailing lake water out of a bateau.

Some guy at the marina was either high or drunk and heckled us for a solid 10 minutes as we loaded the thing into the water. I suppose it's not every day you see a bunch of 18th century soldiers get into a glorified canoe and start bailing within two minutes but still, you'd think that if something worked with consistent success for thousands of years even a guy with no sense of history would realize that's not going to change now.

Like, we were maybe 200 feet out and he was still going. He just could not fathom that we could get around the point and to the dock within the 25 minute estimate given to him by our boatmaster. But you know, in his defense, maybe it was 30 minutes and not 25...

Supper was quite good except that, with Music doing the cooking, we almost de-soldered a kettle by cooking a bunch of dill and potatoes in it without any water. Once again I was on the lake while this happened so this was not my fault.

I managed to lose my modern thumbpick for my mandolin at home somewhere along the line and didn’t realize until I got to the event. I used a horn button instead. I would not recommend it unless you have no other choice.

Small tavern night but nothing compared to the raving tavern we had at Dey Mansion. A bunch of boy scouts sleeping over with LED headlights were running around and kind of killing the vibe.

Next morning is rainy and dull. At least one fellow sleeps through reveille but in his defense he was feeling quite awful from a migraine, in period accurate style.

Also in period accurate style, the Captain shows up with two dozen Dunkin Donuts for the 22nd lads now that a fire isn't an option. That's how you know it's Sunday morning. Little 24 manages to snag two.

In his defense, I had two as well. The 13-year-old boy in me won. I figured I'd spent enough time on the two-person saw yesterday to earn it.

For some reason yesterday I decided to volunteer for gabion duty in the morning. Now it’s raining and I don’t know why I did that.

The gabion crew spends maybe 45 minutes complaining in the mud and the rain. There’s an assembly line going: a couple guys digging, a couple guys passing the buckets up, one guy dumping them and throwing them back down, and a Bucket Boy to catch them. Allegedly.

The banter is spectacular. Our only marine is nearly decapitated by a flying bucket. Little 24 shows up (in a DIFFERENT 26th coat) to be the Bucket Boy but our Bucket Boy sucks and keeps tossing the buckets in the wrong direction. The musicians threaten several people with the cat-o-nine. None of this is OSHA approved. There’s talk of unionizing. The cabbage is still in a pile at the edge of the woods.

At some point the artillery company marches out and we all collectively decide gabion duty is done despite being on duty for another hour or something. Ironically enough this was one of the more enjoyable and memorable parts of the event by virtue of it being so miserable. It was quite authentic.

Also really enjoyed the singular marine (with his head thankfully still intact after the gabions) at this event, who, when I asked if my brand new forage cap—rather large on my apparently rather small head—was still holding up after hauling mud around for 45 minutes, observed that the front was practically over my ear and very politely commented “it’s very rakish”

We all kind of shuffle around in the grass to get the mud off our shoes. In my own words, my ‘dashes are absolutely spattered. I am still repeating this phrase because it sounds like British slang for being really drunk or something.

I return to the barracks to hold some very warm hard boiled eggs in my very cold hands. Very effective, would recommend.

Not much going on apart from a few very dedicated visitors who braved the rain to make it to the event. We march out an hour early. My fellow fifer and I get to the car and make a beeline for the local Stewart’s for shakes to ease the post-reenactment depression.

All in all, a small but memorable event that, for me, really solidified the concept that Normal People don’t drive several hours to dress up in period clothing and do physical labor. I, however, am not Normal People, and had a great time.

[good-to-drive]

Hi! I swear I don't mean to be annoying but genuinely curious what's the difference between Paul fans praising Paul in a post vs say, fans of any other beatle. Is it the overt defensiveness? Also, isn't reiterating Paul's sins every time kind of being like the 'John beet wif' meme everytime there's positive discussion re the band/John ?

Hi!

Don't worry, you're not annoying, but I was planning on deleting this (frankly I delete most of the asks I get from Paul girls) until I realized you're (perhaps unintentionally) coming very close to a legitimate point. Also, I get the feeling that you're genuinely interested in an answer, which is always nice.

That being said, I do want to point out that I never said I have a problem with people praising Paul. If you follow this blog, I praise him a lot. I very specifically said I have a problem with people being "delusional and defensive about celebrities," and the fact that you translated this to "praising Paul" honestly raises an interesting point, but also imho seems like a very harsh perspective on him. There are so many wonderful things to say about Paul that are not remotely unreasonable, because there are many wonderful things about him as a human being.

Also, "bringing up Paul's sins" was actually a comment from a reblog, and while I think they also make a good point it's separate from what I originally said. What I said is that it's frustrating that delusional and defensive behavior from stans brings out negativity towards the celebrity when the celebrity themselves did nothing wrong, and that this is really prevalent in discussion around Paul because in the mainstream Beatles narrative he's usually the hero to John's villain.

All that aside, where I think you're very nearly making a good point is where you compare this to discussing John's history of violence.

The tendency to black-and-white people is present in every conversation, it's just part of how we speak as a culture (or possibly as a species). I like to call it the AITA mentality – the tendency to approach situations from the perspective of “who's the bad guy?” rather than actually trying to draw insight and understand the motivations, emotions, schemas, and experiences involved. (Not that r/AITA invented this mentality, but they did crystallize it into an acronym.) In this fandom that's usually Paul as a kind of heroic victim and John as pitifully evil, which is itself arguably (partly) a delayed reaction to unfair criticism of Paul in the past. It does both men a terrible disservice, converting them into one-dimensional caricatures rather than real, fascinating people.

Reversing this mentality to “Paul was the real villain actually” would very much be unreasonable, which is ironically the exact point of my original post, but the larger point is that the way stan culture poisons any meaningful discussion of a major historical figure by calling it “bashing” to acknowledge actions/beliefs/experiences that conflict with a black-and-white narrative is genuinely sad and frustrating. It makes it hard for people who are legitimately interested in them to have a conversation, and is in my experience a much more prevalent issue than people pushing back by bringing up things that shatter the one-dimensional image.

In regards to John specifically, it would indeed be impossible to understand him without taking into account the predilection to violence that defined so much of his early life and helped develop his belief system, and that's a point that he himself made multiple times. I don't really care for the condescending "John beet wif" characterization of people who acknowledge this, or even people who are disturbed by it. I've said many times that there are valid reasons to condemn everyone in this story. When I say there's a lack of nuance, I don't mean we need to ignore the real harm that John, Paul, George, and Ringo all caused. That's not nuance. Nuance is acknowledging how and why they came to that point, that it was one facet of a larger and more complex character, and trying to develop insight into their social roles and perspectives without trying to snap them into preset hero or villain roles.

And your bringing up John's history of violence was (ironically) a very illustrative example, because he himself was so insistent on it being acknowledged. He did not want to be spoken about in black-and-white terms, not even if it meant being heroized, so it's unnecessary and counterproductive to demand that he should be. Positivity about the band can -- and indeed must -- coexist with knowledge of who they were as full, complete human beings. It's sometimes hard and disillusioning, I get that, but it's just so fucking essential.

[drdemonprince]

Thank you for talking about the ills of isolation and withdrawing during a moment where we need collective action, whatever that may look like for each one of us.

I have been thinking a lot about how I want to belong to groups who are doing things I care about and what gets in the way of that goal. A huge difficulty I have as an autistic woman and a woc in a small town in a white majority country is that often even with people whose politics I broadly agree with, there is a lot of interpersonal unease and irritation to get through. This is probably sometimes as much my fault as theirs. But sometimes it's stuff like people openly rolling their eyes at my name (too foreign and hard apparently) or me finding some of the things they say awful (a queer rights group still being racist for example) or just finding people annoying to be around at times.

How do I show up in these spaces and create a community without burning out from annoyance/disappointment/the everyday alienation of it all? Surely moving to a big city cannot be a practical answer when it's not affordable? And surely there must be a way to be honest about my politics and stand up for myself and still be in halfway progressive spaces that are doing good work and are best options right now in terms of proximity and impact? My parents' answer (different generation, country, culture) was always keep your head down and stay out of difficult things like organizing. I am tired of living like that. But I also feel I am too angry and too unfit to deal with the everyday reality of what people are like to be able to part of movements. The alternative though is to having a panic attack while reading the news and sink into despair and helplessness which sucks. Am I missing an obvious way out here? As always, very grateful to you for your wisdom and clarity on living uncowered.

Thank you so much for your wonderful message and question. I am admittedly a little out of my depth in some ways in answering this, I feel, as a white person and a man who people don't tend to subject to the worst of the kind of treatment that you're speaking to. (What I do get is people thinking that expressing the prejudices will be acceptable to me, which I have the responsibility to shut down as often as humanly possible, so that spaces don't have a such a dogshit culture and alienate tons of people like you).

I think you do really have to look over your own bandwidth, and determine for you what is tolerable and what isn't. As a trans person, there are slightly "off" little comments that I'll accept from someone who isn't well versed in the topic, and differences in how elders talk and think about gender that I'll tolerate bemusedly, but if it ventures into any area that makes the space explicitly hostile to trans people who are more vulnerable than me, then it's something I need to fight about or I need to abandon the space.

For a woman of color like yourself, I think that kind of decision making is a lot more fraught, because frankly I never have to worry about anybody really escalating their bullshit with me too badly, and they'll want to forget it pretty quickly after the conflict even if I do challenge them.

(This propensity towards midwest nicey-ness / white person fake nicey-ness can sometimes be leveraged to win a battle or two -- when I have obviously, unquestionably shut down someone's ignorance or read them for filth diplomatically for making a really dumb point, often the other person's impulse is to backtrack and make nice or pretend that what they said never happened, while also never doing it again in my presence, and in plenty of situations, that's plenty good enough. I have seen this kind of maneuvering work for people of color too, especially in groups like churches, volunteer organizations, cultural affinity groups, and the like, where there is a strong bias towards everybody getting along...sometimes that awful cultural norm can be shifted to your advantage if you Make the Person Saying the Fucked Up Thing the Awkward One.)

I think a lot of what you'll have to do is discern between the groups where you can push back against the remarks and policies that are unacceptable to you but basically get along with well-enough intentioned people, and the groups where you will be singled out and treated poorly for speaking up or ever asserting yourself. It also really helps to befriend all the other people of color & neurodivergent people in the space early on into joining a group, so you have people to lean on and you can get their lay of the land.

I wish I had advice that was more targeted and immediately actionable, but I think a lot of this is a very subtle dance based on the community spaces you move within, your political goals, the people within the space, the norms within that space surrounding conflict, how many other poc are there, etc etc. You will probably have to try a couple of groups before you find one that is tolerable enough for you because a) the people arent That Fucked Up, and b) they can kind of handle conflict some of the time at least. Please don't be disheartened if things feel awkward or a few of your first tries have rancid vibes. You can also take steps to build the very community spaces that you want -- by reaching out to other people of color in the area and forming your own groups that can then partner with these kind of annoying white majority organizations. The autonomy is useful and may preserve some social and emotional spoons, but at the cost of having to do a lot of organizing work. So, tradeoffs.

Would love to hear in the comments from people of color who do organizing in non-urban areas and have to deal with a lot of white people nonsense.

[princess-of-the-corner]

One thing I see brought up which is weird to tackle is Chloe's racism rooted largely in the Kung Food episode which is... Well frankly a racist episode in general. The reason this feels like a weird fit for Chloe's character though.

(In the sense of it being a conscious, primary motivator for bad behavior as opposed to just something picked up on by virtue of social osmosis she doesn't even realize & that most/all the white students do)

Is the fact it basically only exists for that episode. We've seen Chloe cheat, steal or sabotage others, or just generally be rude and abrasive in multiple episodes. There might be distinctions in motive or exact method but they are fairly consistent overall.

But then Kung Food is just out there with some very overtly shitty behavior and then it jsut... Never comes up again.

Like, if this was stuff she said or did all the time, if this tied into her obsession with Marinette, then it would have to have come up before now either by Marinette herself or just cos Chloe said something terrible.

Its why I'm fairly comfortable ignoring that character trait while I wouldn't roll with "Chloe would never classist, or snobby or elitists" cos she definitely has been those things consistently enough.

Its a bit like the train episode.

One can work it so that Chloe is kind of having a breakdown thanks to her mothers presence, abuse and also having been murdered by her the day before and then chastised for helping free her.

All that could be collectively used to justify such an extreme shift in scale of behavior.

But that doesn't really apply in Kung Food, its just introduced and then seemingly forgotten.

See the thing about Kung Food is that the lines everyone points to for racism are

1.) her getting the hell out of dodge after the sabotage by giving a 'whoops don't speak Japanese!' line and running off. Which yeah that one was a bit off I'm not gonna pretend it isn't. But it was also her getting the hell out of dodge as said before.

2.) the sushi line. Which, if you pay attention to the whole line, she is complaining about how 'soup isn't a main dish, why can't he make sushi /like everyone else/.' This line implies not racism, but that other people in the competition are making sushi. It's /Adrien/ that turns it into a race thing.

That said.

Even if we do take it as some intentional acts of racism and not just either mixing up words or genuine 'she's 13 and isn't familiar with the differences' or even taking from Season 4-5 where she's too stupid to pronounce multi-syllable words how would she be smart enough to know the difference:

Chloé's crime of mixing Chinese and Japanese is completely fucking neutralized by /the show itself mixing Chinese and Japanese when it comes to the Akuma/. Yes they say it was based more on Sun Wukong who Goku is also based on but he's got the orange outfit and spiky yellow hair and the target audience is likely more familiar with Goku than Sun Wukong. Not to mention giving him weapons that include SUSHI and the fucking Buster Sword, both more Japanese influence!

And yeah it's. It's a one-off. Her antagonism of her classmates isn't racially motivated as she'll bully all of them and she never makes any racist comments otherwise. It's just. Two lines in an episode that says 'don't do this' while demonstrating it as a good thing.

[real-life-senshi]

10 (Mostly) Spoiler-Free Reasons to Watch Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon 2003 Live Action

A countdown to the 20th anniversary of Act 1 air date!

Reason 4: The Costumes!

Yes, I'm serious. No, I'm not necessarily talking about the Senshi costume, though they aren't bad especially once you can appreciate the bulkiness is due to the necessity to protect the cast wearing them - let's be honest, wearing a skimpy sailor fuku isn't that realistic for battles (yes, I said it). And they get points for being more faithful to the manga material than ‘90s anime was.

Thematic, colour-coded, stylistic choices for the Senshi

Many fans know that Takeuchi Naoko is a fan of high fashion, just look at many of her official art that uses runway fashion! While the live-action isn't about that, the costumes team was certainly phenomenal in providing the Senshi with a stylish and thematic selection of everyday clothes that speak to their respective personalities. And frankly, the girls' daily wear feels pretty timeless for a series that's 20 years old.

Their costume choices were even explored in the "PGSM Complete Edition Memorial Book". As a treat, I translated the comments here:

In addition to this, generally speaking, Usagi, Ami and Minako's outfits are pretty feminine, next is Rei's which is a bit more of a mix of feminine and unisex, and Makoto's is mostly unisex, though I wouldn't go as far as say it feels masculine.

Symbolism in colour!

While the girls supposedly are matched with their own signature colour and stylistic choices for casual wear, they do switch up the colours often. The girls' costume per episode is occasionally symbolic of their dynamic and relationship when there's significant character interaction in the episode's plot. Some examples:

I’d also say that Minako's general style of black and white is quite symbolic as well given her character story in PGSM. But I'll leave that for another time when I introduce PGSM's spin to Minako's character later.

Seriously, this show is one where you can rewatch time after time, and you'd still find MORE symbolistic things slipped into the product, either subtly shown right in front of your face or hidden in the background. It brings me much joy when I feel like I caught another glimpse of symbolism in costume choices.

Past life Earth Kingdom style(?)

The Shitennou, Queen Beryl and Prince Endymion's costumes all got a huge upgrade in their design. The overall designs are a lot more ornate with golden or silver trims, and the intricacies seem to be of the same design, suggesting that royalties and guards of the Earth's Kingdom from the past life get their uniforms designed by the same designer?

I truly love that they colour-coded the Shitennou! The original manga/anime design was so plain it almost makes me think they feel more like foot soldier's uniform, only Kunzite had a cape to be fancy. In the live-action, all of them have capes and they are well-used! There are many mighty and flashy cape-flicking in the series!

I especially appreciate Beryl's costume, the ornate design just seems a lot more befitting of the queen. They managed to make the costume sensual but not sexual and also found ways to make the random horn on her shoulders stylish without making it seem like she's grown horns. Honestly, it was an amazing casting choice too!

Fun random costumes:

Similar to Usagi's gadgets allow her to transform into different costumes and personnel for sneaking into situations in the manga/anime, all Senshi have the means to copy any costume/clothing for situations as needed.

This leads to some hilarious and generally awesome scenes with the ladies dressing up in all sorts of random clothes. Some examples:

Like I said, the show doesn't take itself too seriously, despite some twists and turns they added to the storyline!

You can watch the subbed versions of the series at:

Miss Dream Fansubs

Sea of Serenity Fansubs

The series is also on other online streaming sites, but be cautious to only visit them with good adware and firewall installed.

7 days till the 20th anniversary of Act 1 air date!

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10