#fucking terrible quality

[worm-on-my-way]

do drugs kids :)

[luneariann]

[louferrignojrofficial]

LOU FERRIGNO JR. as DAVID GILLIGAN ↳ IMPULSE (2023)

[darlingpeasant]

“Oh it’s you 🤯😵‍💫🫨🥴” >>> “Oh it’s you 🥺🥹🥰😭”

(Once again, Mr Luke ‘king of micro-expressions’ Newton, you are a genius)

[tkachukisms]

happy saturday caturday everyone. sadly this doesn't work because there isn't a cats game today but if you look into your soul there can be! | yeah these are all going to be max images now. I'm also unsure how we got here, yeah

[cicada-candy]

Loose GPT wip I Will Actually Probably Finish at some point

[prettysweetprettysweet]

[majimasleftasscheek]

I got the og ugly ass asmus majima fig and I'm so happy 😊 with his iconic axe and caveman club lmao disgustang…

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | Rebellion Series | Caution

Part one of the Rebellion Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: By some miracle, you get saved from the consequences of your own actions. You’re reluctant to join a supposedly good cause. What happens when the good cause is not so legal? And what - or who - is your soft spot?

Warnings: Angst, fluff (?) and mentions of sex.

Words: 34OO

You have started shaking again. With every tremble of your body, the restraints around your legs and arms seem to tighten and you shudder even more at the awful memory of that feeling. It took weeks for the shaking to stop. Weeks of being locked up into this modern dungeon until you were nothing but silence and numbness.

You knew the rebellion could end in death, knew the consequences would be catastrophic, but at least you’d stood for something, fought for something. And you would choose death any day over the endless silence of this prison. You know for a fact that you’re surrounded by an ocean, but no matter how hard you listen, you cannot hear the wild sea crash. Can only hear the low hum of the air being circulated through your metal cell.

And today, approximately three months after the start of your sentence in the most secured prison on the planet, you have started shaking again. It can hardly be because today of all days, your brain has decided to make you go completely insane. That would be too random. Which means–

Your head snaps to the window, spotting the other cells. Empty. This floor is reserved just for you alone. Because apparently you’re too dangerous to interact with anyone. They even got machines bringing you your daily sustenance. An empty floor like every other day, yet something seems different. Something’s off.

A metal door flies through the middle of the circular space connecting all of the cells and you stiffen. You look at the ground again, keeping completely still. Maybe they don’t know that you’re here. Oh God, oh God, oh God. No, they can’t get to you. Not again.

The destruction clangs through your body and you tremble violently, curling up as much as you can and staring hard at the floor. The cold metal ground blurs with images of the rebellion. The things you gave up, the energy your summoned and wasted, the people you lost. The blood, and pain, and screams and– and– and…

“She’s in there. Grab her and then we get out of here.”

“Steve, I–”

“And hurry up, we don’t have much time!”

Two combat boots step into your vision and the stomps echo in your head, booming you back to reality. But not quite. Your eyes vibrate with fear and you swallow the nails in your throat. Then a pair of knees appear in front of you and a black gloved hand reaches forward. It hesitates, then retreats. As if choosing not to touch you. Wise choice.

“Hey.” The voice is low. And smooth as liquor.

But you don’t look up, focusing on trying not to tremble more and taking the firm contraptions wrapped around your shins and forearms as the protection they now are. Maybe this is another nightmare. It’s different from the ones you usually have, but black gloves… They had black gloves, too. And those firm boots. They may have kicked you in the stomach with those boots once. You don’t remember.

“I’m here to get you out,” the voice speaks again and you can only listen to the tone of voice, the way it sends a shockwave through your body and lessens the violent trembles. “Look up for me.”

You ignore him and focus on your breathing.

“Is she coming?” That first voice. Impatient. Panting.

The male before you turns to the centre of the floor and gives a frustrated sigh, “She’s pretty out of it.”

Before waiting for the other man to respond, he turns back to you and studies you. Even though you don’t see him, his stare burns right through the flimsy clothes they put on you. He lets out a soft sigh and flips out a knife from the holster at his waist, still kneeling before you. You stiffen, preparing yourself for the sting at your throat as they finally decide to get rid of you, but he tries his best not to touch any bare skin as he saws through the materials binding you together.

The relief of pressure from your skin make you feel so uneasy, you nearly throw up, but a gentle hand covers your arm and you finally look up. Warm, dark blue eyes connect with yours. Below heavy brows and above the faintest cluster of freckles. His mouth is soft and pillowy and his bone structure is otherworldly symmetrical.

“It’s okay,” he tells you gently and offers you a smile that you can tell doesn’t come to him naturally. “Can you walk?”

He pulls you to a stand with a firm, but comfortable grip and you instantly stumble on your feet at the weight suddenly put on them. One arm flies around your waist and hoists you into his side as he catches your fall.

“Okay, okay,” he grunts with a gentle laugh. “I got you. Let’s get the fuck out of here, alright?”

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you hobble along with the wall of a male dragging you along, “Who are you?”

He spares you a brief glance and smiles once more, following ‘Steve’ out of the building and onto an air craft that is way too loud. “Bucky. We’re here to help you. Or I suppose you’re here to help us, little rebel.”

…

Steve gives Bucky a knowing glare, only breaking it by daring a glance at your bedroom door which you have been effectively hiding behind for weeks now. “You know I can’t go in there, Bucky.”

“You know I won’t let you,” Bucky answers drily with a shrug. As opposed to his best friend, Bucky hasn’t stopped staring at your door.

“You’re not even hiding your possessiveness when it comes to her,” Steve breathes through a laugh. That makes Bucky finally look at his friend.

“I’m not possessive,” he says matter-of-factly. He’s not even offended, just practical. “I’m protective. The last thing she needs is all of the nosy people in this tower swirling around her when she doesn’t trust a single soul.”

“Has she started to trust you?”

Bucky has to keep from wincing at Steve’s question, and he clears his throat. “Sure,” he lies.

If Steve caught the lie, he didn’t let on. It was as much of a dismissal as he was going to get. After watching his best friend walk off to do captain things, Bucky braces himself to step into your room. He has no hope that his interaction with you will be any different than the previous ones.

“Another day of convincing me to be your weapon?” you nearly snarl when he walks into your room.

If Bucky is entirely honest, he thought you would have turned into this damaged girl that would morph into a wild animal as you worked through what had been done to you. He didn’t really expect this perseverance and defiance from the woman he saved from that prison. But he supposes he should have seen that question coming. It wasn’t his best work; starting that day he saved you with all of the things you could be doing for them. Why they had saved you. Simply for their own gain. Or that is how you understood it, at least…

He has never been good with words. That has always been Steve’s thing. Bucky was reliable physically and he paid attention. He never had to use many words to make his point. Yet you keep asking these questions – rhetorical, he thinks – and you keep giving him this penetrating stare until he answers. Which is a sure way to make him fuck up, because how do people do that? Bring sensible thoughts into words and make it make sense?

Especially when the woman asking said questions is so damned… pretty.

“It’s time for you to get out of this room,” he tells you plainly. It seems the tactic of ignoring your questions is effective. It only took him six days to figure that one out.

He strides over to cross the room, not sparing you another glance in your chair in the corner, and rips open the curtains. The cat-like hiss coming from you has Bucky nearly biting back a smile. He turns and watches you stand from your chair, stalking over to him with your chin high and a scowl on your face. He raises an eyebrow with amused intrigue.

“And what, exactly, will I be doing outside of my room?” you ask.

He dips down slightly, but you keep the proximity. “Whatever you want. I don’t care.”

“If you don’t care, why hunt me out of my room?”

He shrugs, “Captain’s orders.” He isn’t entirely lying.

“Why isn’t the captain telling me himself?”

Bucky smirks and leans even closer, making you feel his minty breath fan over your face. “Because I’m the only one who isn’t scared of you.”

You snort at that and roll your eyes before breaking away from him. “I’ll get dressed.”

Bucky tries his hardest not to look too stunned as you retreat into the bathroom. A deep sigh leaves his lips as he paces through your room in wait for you to get ready. It takes a whole lot of effort to muster a smirk when it comes to his interactions with you.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he asks quietly.

Just as quietly, the house responds, “Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Has she asked for anything from you? To contact friends or family, or other information?”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“Does she have anyone left?” he tries, chewing his lip as he dreads the answer.

“Not that we’re aware. Mr. Stark had me run a background check, but she seems alone. No sign of anyone missing or deceased. No sign of a network at all.”

Bucky doesn’t know why that feels worse in his chest and he swallows. “Alright, thank you.”

A few moments later, you step out of the shower and find Bucky lounging in the chair he found you in, leafing through one of your books. Just as you’re about to check whether he has gotten his hands on one of your smuttier books, your eyes snag on the clothes laid out for you on the bed.

You pause long enough to make Bucky look up from the book. “Did you… Did you seriously pick out this underwear for me?”

Bucky eyes the lace panties dangling from your fingers and shrugs with a smirk. A smirk had never looked so enticing, but you sharpen your stare on him. “Do you prefer the grey, cotton ones in the back of the closet?”

You grit your teeth and scowl at him again, before morphing your mouth into a vindictive smile. “Why? Don’t you?”

His eyes dance at that. “Wouldn’t make a difference to me.”

And it’s the way he said it, with so much casual amusement and… promise. Heat rises to your face and you duck your head down. Snatching the clothes from the bed, you retreat back into the bathroom to get dressed.

…

The rest of your conversations had been purely functional as Bucky lead you down into the building where Steve was waiting. Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend’s horrible attempt at hiding his surprise. Steve hadn’t seen you since the day they came to save you, he must have never expected Bucky to be successful in his retrieval.

Bucky also hadn’t missed the meaningful look Steve then gave him that indicated he tucked away some valuable information. The information being that if they ever needed to get you to do something, Bucky is the way to get you to do it. Why? Steve seemed to have his theories and Bucky didn’t like it one bit.

However, for now he doesn’t care. Instead, he sticks by you after you reluctantly agreed to join Steve on a walk.

Strolling down the path through the surrounding woods, Bucky catches himself bracing for a fight every time Steve gets a little too close to you. He doesn’t like it. The last time he was this sensitive to proximity, he had just ran from Hydra. He’s seen other traumatised people before, but this feels different. And instead of listening to your and Steve’s conversation, he tries to figure out what it is. He supposes it’s because you have no survival instinct. In the few videos he’s seen of your rebellion and the encounters he has had with you the past weeks, you see danger or conflict and run straight toward it. Nothing scared or cautious about you. It sets his nerves on edge.

Bucky is well aware of what Steve is telling you and he has to refrain from rolling his eyes at the careful way Steve tries to coax you into their plan, when earlier that week they had not been nearly as careful as they calculated how to get you involved. But even Bucky had to admit that they needed you – specifically, everyone who would follow you into the grave. When Stark had shown him the videos, he was perplexed as to how you got such a huge following when what you fought for was so terribly dangerous. But one look at those sharp eyes and one deep command from you, and Bucky had seen it. That unwavering will and that brilliant brain that was always calculating. Steve could learn a few tricks from you on being a strong leader. And considering Bucky wildly admires his old friend, that is saying something.

They need you. Bucky knows it, too. They need not just someone with great leadership skills and a loyal following, but someone that does it out of empathy for the people mistreated by the system. Because that is who they’re going to be fighting – the system.

Again.

…

“You haven’t said anything about what Steve told you,” Bucky says on your walk back to your room. The offer to escort you back to your room hadn’t been entirely selfless.

“I need to think about it,” you murmur, deep in thought.

Bucky suppresses his sigh of sympathy. They are asking you to join a cause you were so passionate about, and that after failing so miserably last time. He can barely imagine the things you must have witnessed and endured with your last upraise. How you had gotten so influential that the government decided to treat you like you were a super-human and punished you accordingly. You had been put in the same prison as Wanda. Wanda. That is how powerful you were.

“It can’t be easy to revisit everything after all that’s happened,” he resigns and you blink from your thoughts to raise your eyes to his face. You study him and it takes all of Bucky’s might not to shift under your assessing gaze.

Then you speak up, “I’ve always done the right thing. Steve knows I can’t walk away from it…”

Bucky smiles at that. “Just like him.”

Your eyes narrow at that comment, but Bucky finds no venom in the look. You continue, “Sacrificing my life for the cause was never an issue. But to lead others into that same fate again?” The guilt had eaten you alive. All those people that had gotten arrested, split up from loved ones, hurt– worse…

Bucky interrupts your thoughts before they get a hold on you by clearing his throat. “Tonight, we have dinner with everyone. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.” Your heavy stare on him makes him quickly add, “Don’t give me that look. There will be no talk of overthrowing the government. Just dress fancy.”

The snort of a laugh that comes from you feels lighter to Bucky than he’d like to admit. And to ease the tension, he forces another smirk to his face. You narrow your eyes again warily, “What.”

He shrugs, turning to leave you alone at your door. Then he winks. “Let me know if you need me to pick out some underwear for you.” And then he’s gone.

Bucky hangs onto that cockiness all the way until dinner, where the entire group has showed up. Even Thor said he’d show up for a drink. Barton flew in from his family home to join the group as well. He remembers a time when he’d felt more than uncomfortable around this group of people. But so much has changed. They all saw him as a great asset to the team and even relied on him more and more to supervise the missions. He’s at home with them now. Heart swelling with affection, he listens to his friends – his family – laugh in the kitchen while they pour the drinks.

And then all of their faces turn into one direction, some of them pulling taut, few of them giving warm, comforting smiles. Bucky follows their gaze and it is like someone punched him in the gut, air whooshing out of his body. He doesn’t really know why – other than the obvious fact that you look ravishing of course. But he looks at you and clears his throat to welcome you to the group.

Natasha beats him to it though and it has Bucky’s hackles rising. She shoots him a knowing smile and then he backs off. His pride wounded like a cat booped on the nose. Natasha is good at it, charming people until they feel comfortable. Or take their pants off. But there’s an easy smile on your face – one Bucky knows is at least slightly forced – and you blend in with the crowd easily.

Suddenly, Sam’s at his side. “I know what you’re thinking,” he grumbles with his eyes on you and Natasha, followed by a swig of his beer bottle. “Those two together can only mean trouble.”

Bucky can only grunt in agreement.

…

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Natasha drawls with a guilty smile.

Barton shakes his head. “The poor schmuck didn’t stand a chance. There is no way you could have taken him if you hadn’t slept with him the night before.”

Natasha shrugs. “Look, a girl has her needs. He met them and the next day he met his fate.”

“Really, Nat?” Steve nearly cringes and Bucky reins in his laugh. “The guy’s moral compass was straight from hell and you decided to sleep with him?”

Natasha barely manages to open her mouth before you decide to pitch in, raising a glass to her. “I get it. Terrible morals do add a little spice in the bedroom.”

Nat clinks her glass with yours and mutters a ‘she gets it’, but Bucky’s eyes are searing through your skin. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised at such outrageous claims coming out of your mouth. There is nothing innocent about you. Good, yes. Innocent? No. Yet perhaps it isn’t ‘surprise’ that is warming his body from the inside out.

Conversation flows easily between the Avengers and the food Tony had made easily beats the Brooklyn comfort food Bucky usually seeks out. Cheeks turn rosy from the drinks, voices get louder, lights get dimmer. Bucky has to really look to be sure what he’s seeing. You, relaxed and happy. Such a stark contrast to the woman he found in the prison. No wonder you’re so good with people. People make you good.

He can barely manage his smirk however, when he notices the strain in your body to keep from looking at him. Why you are so adamant to avoid him, he can’t really tell. But this is now your weak spot, so he cannot help but tuck the info away for later.

The night carries on and everyone switches places, catching up on endless memories and adventures and being surprisingly considerate to include you in most conversations. Bucky ends up at the head of the table, you on the seat closest to him, both listening to Sam. You listen closely and Bucky can only assume you have some relief from being actively distracted from him. And being the arrogant bastard he knows he can be, he ‘accidentally’ brushes a knuckle over the back of your hand that’s resting on the table. He watches you stiffen and swallow, but like a true rebel, you show no other sign that it affected you.

A few more stunts like that had Bucky pressing his knee to your thigh under the table and it takes everything not to pull away from it. So you gaslight yourself to let the touch ground you. To absorb his warmth and relax even more into the touch. And if you guess it correctly, the way you respond to Bucky’s touch is not what he expected… So you find yourself having the upper hand again.

And if you’re going to join these people in their cause, what’s a little game with your menace of a saviour?

[serpentface]

how is sex work perceived and treated - spiritually, legally, morally - in broad areas relevant to the white calf core cast? imperial wardi, the hills etc

Sex work is EXTREMELY stigmatized in Imperial Wardin, yet generally regarded as an element of society and a necessary function, not one to be eliminated. You'll occasionally find fringe groups decrying the presence of brothels as polluting elements upon cities, but they are minority figures- sex work is legal, generally accepted, and very common.

There are some exceptions- in most of the city-states, only sex work out of registered brothels is considered fully legal (independent sex workers are breaking the law in most city-states, though how much these laws are enforced varies heavily). All legally operating brothels must be officially registered, and are heavily taxed.

Prostitution of children is illegal, and this is one of VERY few protections for sex workers that is strongly enforced. But it should be clear that the societal definition of a child here does not match the contemporary- a person is generally considered an adult woman upon menarche (which is later on average due to poorer nutrition, but is still going to include a lot of like, 14 year olds). Boys are considered adults at the age of 16.

Forced prostitution is also illegal on paper, but this is poorly enforced. Even when not Outright forced, many sex workers are working as indentured laborers, or under prohibitive conditions where they have very little freedom of movement or legal ability to leave during the duration of their contracts.

Sex workers are an incredibly vulnerable, stigmatized social minority that have very few protections and are often subject to abuse.

The stigma against sex work surrounds the sex workers themselves. This is culturally justified and partly rooted in aspects of broader body taboo- receiving penetration = metaphysical vulnerability = openness to spiritual pollution, and they are considered to be heavily polluted by their line of work (regardless of whether or not a given person actually is receiving penetration on a regular basis- male sex workers who primarily have women as clients receive much the same treatment, the stigma here is fundamentally a form of bigotry, not something with a consistent internal logic).

In addition to concerns around penetration, the act of '''selling''' the body itself is seen as a polluting devaluation of the sacred body and using it to extreme excess. Sexuality and libido is societally valued, but in a framework of moderation- sex workers are seen as wildly out of moderation and are often ascribed qualities of an excessive libido by virtue of their line of work.

Sex workers are prohibited from entering most temples and participating in many public rites, justified in their ‘polluted’ status, under the assumption that it will de-purify the place and sully most rites. This serves to keep them isolated from key facets of social life and culture, and can leave many spiritually ostracized (most sex workers from within this cultural sphere are also going to believe in notions that they are spiritually polluted, with limited outlets to cleanse themselves).

There is one folk tradition that has developed to assuage some of these fears and the sense of isolation- an epithet to the Face Ganmache that translates literally to 'Mother of Whores' (a rather strong name that reclaims degrading slang in the original language as well), which watches over sex workers and their labors. This is wholly a folk tradition and not part of core dogma, and priests are self-appointed, mostly elderly former sex workers. They provide rites of purification and blessings for those denied access to temples, sometimes train themselves as midwives to assist in births (or abortions), and will help ensure deceased workers get proper funeral rites.

Generally, the concept of something being spiritually polluted translates to full avoidance of the person/place/thing involved, but these concerns are rarely applied to the Hiring of sex workers (ie they are spiritually polluted and highly impure and shouldn't enter temples but you, the client, are not affected by contact). While some people will try to provide logical explanations for why hiring a sex worker is not polluting, this does not have any true underlying logic and is a product of a society that both reviles sex workers and desires their labor.

They are generally expected to visually identify themselves as sex workers at all times- the exact details vary by city-state, but wearing hair unbraided and an uncovered head in public is most common (particularly in the west of the region).

Male sex workers are denied certain rights otherwise available by default to men (self-legal representation, ability to own land that is not gifted, etc). Female sex workers do not have these rights to begin with, and have even more difficulty than other women in finding legal representation, given that they situationally rarely have fathers/husbands/male family members willing to support them.

Because of their inability to represent themselves in court and the difficulty in finding representation, they often have little to no recourse against abuse or violations of their contracts. There are some lawyers who specialize in representing sex workers (fewer still who do this entirely out of benevolence for a vulnerable social class), but they are few and far between.

The majority of sex work is marketed towards male clients, and the majority of sex workers are women. Male sex workers are mostly young men who serve male clients, and will usually keep themselves beardless and not overtly masculine (while not distinctly effeminate either) to remain desirable targets for the sexual outlet of most men. (There is no concept of sexuality in this culture- if you are a man, you are a penetrative partner in sex and the gender of the receiving partner is of little concern. Younger men beneath you in social stature (in practice, these are almost always sex workers) are considered appropriate targets of male desire, and as such you have some men who would be considered heterosexual by contemporary standards having sex with other men). Male workers who primarily serve female clients tend to vary more in age and have less social restrictions on their appearance or masculine presentation.

Eunuch sex workers usually serve male clients, and are regarded as appropriate targets of male attraction regardless of their age (largely as they are seen as entirely incapable of performing penetrative roles, and conceptualized as de-gendered). Akoshos (those designated male who perform women's gender roles) sex workers are seen as uniquely predisposed to serve both male and female clients, as their gendered space is broadly conceptualized as dual-gendered (being physically capable of performing 'male' penetrative roles while living under women's social roles)

Hiring of sex workers is not considered infidelity and is entirely permissible to do while married, though women are often heavily discouraged from doing so (largely out of concerns of pregnancy, partly out of patriarchal control over women's sexual behavior). A woman who pays for sex work receives more scrutiny than is applied to men. It is not outright inappropriate, but can be considered indicative of an excessive libido or overmasculinization. Women are imagined as having naturally lower libidos than men, so behaviors that challenge this notion tend to be be noted.

The only circumstances in which hiring sex workers as a man attracts scrutiny is when it is deemed excessive, symptomatic of an uncontrolled libido. Men who hire male sex workers closer to their age and/or bearded will also attract scrutiny- while not outright Condemned, it's suspiciously out of the acceptable range for male desire (though will most often similarly be interpreted as an excessive, uncontrolled libido, ie you'll just fuck anything with a hole). Receiving penetration from a sex worker as a man is wholly condemned, as is seen as UNIQUELY violating, not only a severe deviance from male social roles, but at the hands of a stigmatized, polluted figure that is at the absolute bottom of the social ladder. This usually happens in secret and often involves paying the worker off for their silence.

The one major exception to stigma against sex workers is in the lemna courtesan tradition. Lemna are mostly unmarried women and/or akoshos who are very skilled trained performers who work as entertainers for wealthy clients. Their services are not sexual in nature, rather they sing, dance, act, play music, and recite poetry, and are skilled conversationalists that provide company for clients. Lemna usually operate out of elite brothels, but as separate services to the sex workers, and are in theory never available for sex work. Lemna providing sex work sometimes (though not frequently) occurs in practice, but it is always be presented as something they have not been Paid to do- their payment was for entertainment, and they will present it as a (almost always purely fantastical) situation that they have grown attracted to their client and are engaging in a romantic tryst.

Lemna courtesanship is long-established and a valued part of this culture's art and theater traditions, and they do not face the same stigma as sex workers, rather being seen as an elite class of performers. They do not exactly have a High place in society either (as unmarried civilian women and/or akoshos, they are notably lacking in social power), but the regard towards them is overall positive. The exemption to this stigma partially lies within the framework of body taboo (they do not explicitly 'sell' their bodies or directly engage in sex work), but is largely rooted in the esteem of their tradition rather than any coherent logic.

-----

Sex work has a much less significant, less complicated, and less intensely stigmatized place in the highlands, mostly due to its reduced presence. Most people are living in relatively small agricultural villages, or transiently as herders, so there are fewer opportunities for sex workers to operate on regular and official levels. The only places you can reliably find sex workers within the highlands are in small quasi-towns that crop up around land trade routes, or occasionally as traveling traders (usually offering material goods in addition to sex work services).

There’s also no intra-highlands currency system, so sex workers will usually be paid in goods, which in turn influences the cultural lens on sex work. Goods have direct, immediate utilitarian value that currency does not, and paying goods for service is most pragmatically done as a means of material practicality- forming alliances, acquiring farmhands, receiving the defensive or offensive service of warriors, etc, not for temporary gratification.

The fact that this cultural sphere is fairly egalitarian in terms of gender (though it has strongly enforced, separate gender roles for married men and women) also contributes to the comparative lack of stigma- part of the Imperial Wardi stigma against sex work is interwoven with misogyny (with women sex workers being the most degraded extent of femininity, and male sex workers taking on inappropriate, degraded feminine roles in providing sexual services). Women have equal overall societal power to men in the Hill Tribes cultural sphere, and things associated with femininity are not Themselves degrading (men seen as feminine are not shamed for femininity itself, rather in their specific failure to perform male gender roles- the distinction can be subtle but is very significant to how gender roles are approached).

Casual sex between unmarried men and women is fully accepted, somewhat seen as a hallmark of youth. However, married couples are expected to remain exclusively faithful to one another. This also goes a ways to discourage hiring of sex workers, which would be accepted grounds for a divorce and a mark of shame on the person who strayed.

While not excessively stigmatized, the views on sex work here is nowhere near Enlightened And Supportive either, it’s still seen as a highly degrading, unfortunate line of work. Sex workers are usually going to be unmarried women of marriageable age who could not (or would not) acquire a husband for one reason or another. They are women who failed in expected roles of marriage and becoming the manager of a family’s home and property, and have not even taken an esteemed, productive role for spinsters (usually physical labor in herding, farming, raiding) in favor of one that is considered ‘selling’ one’s body to provide useless, base services to desperate men. It's something that will usually be looked at as sad and unfortunate at best, or an absurd dereliction of duty at worst.

Male sex workers are virtually unheard of (within the highlands at least, there's cultural stereotypes of Wardi men being effeminate and predisposed to sex with men, so of course THEY'VE got male sex workers all over the fucking place), and the concept of a man operating as a sex worker would just seem absurd to most.

But the levels of social shame surrounding sex work are actually higher for the client in this cultural context- it’s suggestive that you either cannot afford to get a wife/do not have the requisite masculine skillset to be a husband, or otherwise that you’re so utterly incapable of getting laid that you have to go to great effort and barter for sex, a petty expense of valuable goods. It's both a foolish waste and in many ways a failure of expected male gender roles. Most men who hire the services of sex workers will keep it on the down low, or (if living near the borders) commute to Wardi towns or tradeways for access. It’s seen as an act of desperation, foolish, emasculating, and will generally be mocked and shamed.

I actually have a framework of a folktale that kind of demonstrates the cultural lens pre-established (no names for the characters or clans involved, it's supposed to be of the far northern Bict-Braíghnnas tribe). I'll put it under the cut:

One of the folktales describes a young woman who was strikingly beautiful and exceedingly clever. She was of the Bict-Braíghnnas, the lone daughter of a very small, very poor clan, consisting only of her immediate family and a few cousins. Her father had died young, and her younger brothers and cousins were malnourished and inexperienced, and could do little to protect or grow their meager herd of horses (they certainly could not afford cattle). She had to take on the role of the provider for herself and remained unmarried long past marriageable age, living day by day doing whatever she could to scrape by and keep her family afloat.

She became aware that the patriarch of her ruling clan had an eye for her, and he began approaching her in hopes of soliciting sex. At first, she always brushed him off. She found him repulsive, as he was foolish and greedy and rather ugly. But she started to see an opportunity in all this. It was a humiliating opportunity, but one she was willing to take.

The next time he approached, she pretended to consider his advances, but only if he should provide payment in turn- if she was as beautiful as he kept saying, and he was as wealthy as he kept bragging, wouldn't it be worth the price? He first offered her a sack of barley, but she laughed him off. He then offered her fine clothes, but she feigned insult, was she not already beautiful even in poor, worn rags? He then offered her a breeding pair of pheasants, and she pushed aside her shawl to expose her breasts, and sweetly asked if he Really could not do better, wealthy in cattle as he was. The man was now, quite clearly, hard in his trousers.

He finally relented to an obscene payment- he would go under his wife (the owner of his cattle)'s nose and give her an adult cow, in payment for having sex with him just once. This is a high price to pay, but she was gorgeous and he was rich in cattle and could afford to lose one (or two. or five. Maybe more.). She accepted his offer and had sex with him, and came away with her very first cow.

(Some tellings of this story go on a tangent here where she sneaks the cow right back into the man's fields under cover of darkness, to breed it with one of his bulls and begin forming her own herd)

Over the next several months, he started regularly approaching her for sex in exchange for cattle, until he had to start coming up with explanations to his wife as to where the missing cattle had gone- he first claimed they were given as gifts, then that some were stolen, inventing wild stories of great raids and declaring open conflict with the greatest rival to his clan, all as means of masking his dalliances. This skirmishing came at great cost to his own clan, but he was too foolish and weak-willed to stop.

The woman was meanwhile using her newfound and growing wealth in cattle to make connections and political moves, slowly establishing herself as a powerful figure and having many in her debt. Her brothers and cousins, finally well fed, grew tall and healthy and began to take on roles as herders, protectors, and raiders, with the assistance of more young men gained in alliance. All the while, she dutifully continued her paid trysts with the patriarch whenever he summoned her.

Eventually, the man had given her so many cattle (which had been bred in the meantime, and more had been acquired in trade and raids) that she had three times as many as he did. One day, she did not appear as expected. She had amassed great wealth for herself and her clan, and had been courting the unwed son of the patriarch’s rival clan. The son paid a hefty bride price for her, and they were wed on that day.

Now the wealthiest in cattle and the most powerful clan in the valley, the woman and her new husband ousted the weakened and disgraced former patriarch, becoming the new ruling clan of the Bict-Braíghnnas. The couple were wise and wealthy rulers, and their clan remains in power and rich in cattle to this day.

---

The cultural outlook on sex work (among other things) is fairly well encapsulated here- the sex work itself is degrading, but this fits into common motifs of this cultural sphere’s folktales where the hero figure overcomes difficult and often degrading situations with wit and social skill, and ultimately rises above it. Note that as a (non-comedic) hero of this tale, she uses her sex work very intentionally and pragmatically for material gain and alongside many other measures to increase her standing. Also note that, when unmarried, she's specified as taking up practical labor roles, and ultimately acquires a husband and ends the story in the expected position as a wife.

The actions of the man who hired her are distinctly shameful. He is performing his role as a husband TERRIBLY- being unfaithful, completely mismanaging his wife’s herds and ultimately driving his clan out of power all in pursuit of petty lust. He is in part an exaggerated, cartoonish embodiment of the cultural perception of the clients of sex workers- desperate, foolishly lustful, and an overall failure as a man. Most hearing this story would find his role highly comedic, a powerful but stupid foe for the clever and pragmatic hero to overcome.

(Very minor side note: the detail of him being enthralled by her breasts is also meant to be comedic- breasts are not sexualized in this culture (women's hips/thighs/buttocks are what is typically seen as sexually attractive), and many women will be out topless on hot days without note being made of it (toplessness is culturally acceptable, exposing genitalia/buttocks is not). The notion of a man being out of his mind horny over the sight of a bare tit would register to listeners as excessively lustful in a humorous capacity)

While the focus of the story is ultimately more on the contrast of thrifty and foolish behaviors, it also functions as a discouragement of hiring sex workers, casting the loss of assets in trade for sex as a similarly foolish venture, degrading to the worker and humiliating to the client.

[probably-a-plant-thing]

im on some level of mental illness, I tracked him down in the Halloween episode

He's literally only here for like 10 frames but I FOUND YOU, YOU ROACH. NOW I KNOW YOUR OUPRLE.

[vanweezer]

that type of person who you think you'd be friends with in every universe - expressed through jim & corey - id/transcript in alt text

so this is a kind of not-so-surprise for my friend @sinclarsupremacy , bc they were the first person i showed this two and was on the phone with me the whole time while i made it. didn't give a single thing away until everything was scanned and done. five dead pens and one reliable sharpie later, i show him this. wanted to get used to drawing the slipsour guyz more but also wanted to articulate something i have troubles saying to important people. this is kind of an ode to all my close friends ive made who i definitely wouldve hung around some graveyards with, and an ode to some bands i didnt know id like as much as i do 🫶

[enzymedevice]

x2 YASUSHI NIRASAWA RPG ART COMBO MOTHERFUCKERS!!!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

have i mentioned how great cats are. there's a lil guy in my house and when i lay my head on her side she starts purring so hard <3 and ten seconds later she will try to open my wrist with her teeth <3 truly the best <3

[zaddyazula]

i’m going insane

[pizzalordmarv]

idk i got bored so