#heccin

[clickerflight]

Burned at the Stake: Part 5

Master list

Part 4

Couldn't wait till tomorrow to post.

Content: Vampire whumpee, human whumper, human caretaker, gun violence, blood, pistol whipped, possible eye injury (not described much), betrayal my beloved, vampire trafficking, dragged by the hair cause I'm obsessed, gun wound, blood drinking (but it's satisfying tho)

..................................................

Esial woke up to the sound of the front door closing. He laid there in the bed, almost dizzy with how comfy he felt. The blankets were all unimaginably soft, as was the padding he was laying on. He laid there, giddy with the feeling as the general glow of sunlight lit the room gradually through the cracks around the fabric. 

He’d have to move to make sure the fabric hid the sunlight better, but he just wanted to sit and enjoy resting. 

He dozed off, unaware of the world again. He woke up when Kyle came back and eventually got himself out of bed. He glanced out the window and was surprised to see the sun in the sky through a partially open blind. 

He jumped back with a yelp to get away, but realized he hadn’t been burned. 

He frowned and stepped forward, moving the blinds and looking at the sun. He hadn’t seen it in so long, it was strange to look at it now. He could feel the warmth of the sun beams, but they weren’t burning him. 

He tapped at the strange see through object in between him and the outside. Maybe that was what was protecting him?

There was a knock on the door to the room and it opened up. Esial could smell blood. 

He turned and Kyle smiled at him. “Hey, I got breakfast.”

Esial tilted his head. He wasn’t really sure what a ‘breakfast’ was, but he hoped it had something to do with the blood he was smelling. 

He followed Kyle to the other room where there was some food on the table. 

“I don’t know if you’ll get sick from eating again after starving for so long, so you have a little and if you feel okay you can have more in an hour or so. Is that alright?”

Esial nodded. “Okay… I can have it?”

“Yeah, the blood is in the cup and you should have some of the sandwich.”

Esial sat down on one of the chairs as Kyle sat to eat as well and lifted the cup to his lips, sipping it slowly. He closed his eyes as the blood coated his tongue. It was cow’s blood, and while there was a strange tang to it he didn’t recognize, it was the most delicious thing he could imagine.

“I have a neighbor downstairs who’s a vampire,” Kyle said warmly. “I was able to borrow some of that from him so you’d have something before I run errands later.”

Esial licked into the cup as far as he could reach before lowering the cup, licking his lips as the blissful feeling he’d lost when the sun scared him reemerged. 

“Thank you,” he said to Kyle.

Kyle shrugged. “I should have stopped her sooner. I’m sorry, man. She told me she’d let you go.”

Esial frowned into the cup, reaching in a finger in to scoop out some more for himself. 

Kyle finished his sandwich before getting up. “I’m going to run errands. I’m going to figure out how we go through the process of getting you taken care of. Don’t want to force you to live with me forever.”

Esial hummed, though he didn’t really understand all that Kyle meant, though he was glad to hear that Kyle didn’t intend to keep him like the woman had. 

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Kyle said with a wave as he grabbed some jingly pieces of metal and left out the door. 

Esial watched the door for a bit longer before he started to poke around the place. He still couldn’t guess what anything was, though he could assume some of their uses, but he was certainly amused with guessing what certain items were as his wounds slowly began to close.

……………………………….

Joanna had waited all day. When she found her vampire missing, that had made her already bad day worse. She’d gone out drinking the night away after finding a buyer to take the vampire. He was a creepy old dude. Samuel, or something like that. She had his phone number written down so she thankfully wouldn’t have to rely on her hungover state of mind.  

She already knew who had taken Esial. The only person who’d known the vampire was here in the first place. She couldn’t really call the police and get it back, so she’d have to do it herself. And she would get it back. Kyle wasn’t tough enough to stand up to her, and the vampire was still weak enough she was certain she could deal with it, especially with a pistol ready to go in her pocket. One shot to the brain and it would certainly go right back to sleep long enough for her to make the deal. 

Still, Joanna waited till nighttime so she could drag the vampire out without burning it to a crisp and get noticed and caught. 

Something tugged in her heart as she thought about what she might have to do to Kyle but she shook that off quickly, She’d only have to do that if her friend tried to stop her. 

Joanna stood at Kyle’s door, his spare key in hand. She could hear people talking inside in Ancient Egyptian. She steeled her resolve, and pushed open the door, gun in hand.

…………………………………

Esial really liked Kyle. The man’s Egyptian was a little rough, but it wasn’t like Esial could say he was a master at English. Kyle was still teaching Esial new words and the vampire was drinking them as quickly as they came, enjoying it all. He had eaten every hour and all of his burns were healed. He’d even been given some proper clothing. Kyle had seemed rather disgusted by the towel Esial had been wearing, and Esial couldn’t help but agree. He tugged at the shirt he wore, still trying to figure out what it was made of as they chatted. 

“So, the plan is that I’ll take you to the rehab center tomorrow. They said you could stay there or stay with me in the evenings, whatever works for you,” Kyle said in a mixture of Egyptian and English so Esial could best understand. “You don’t have to decide tonight.”

“I like it here,” Esial suggested. 

“How about you wait till you’ve seen that place? It’s really nice. All the bells and whistles. They’ll be able to get you an education and then help you get set up in society with a job and everything. There are a lot of cool options for vampires… though you might be a little limited if you come from the generations that can’t tolerate the sun. Still, I’m sure they’ll have something that will work for you.”

Esial nodded, happy with the knowledge that he could be out doing things again. Maybe even hunting!

There was silence for a moment and Kyle sighed. “I’m really sorry about… everything. What happened to you? Why were you in that clearing?”

Esial frowned, thinking back. It had been a very long time ago and it almost didn’t seem to matter anymore. “I…. don’t really remember. I think they were scared of me?”

He didn’t relive those memories very often as a heart, so they had been mostly forgotten in the vastness of endless agony and boredom. “Maybe…. I think there was another demon around who did something, and they thought it was me? I think I killed some of them when they attacked me, but I was just defending myself.”

Kyle seemed a bit taken aback. “You don’t remember?”

“Not really.”

“That’s…. Strange. I can’t imagine not-What’s wrong?”

Esial stared at the front door, he heard something in the handle click and he smelled-

Esial grabbed Kyle as the door slammed open, pulling the young man down behind the counter they had been sitting at. 

There was a loud bang that rang painfully in Esial’s ears and dust shattered out of the wall behind them, settling in their hair. 

“Kyle, get out here now,” Joanna said sharply, the door now closed and locked behind her. 

“You don’t want to do this, Joanna,” Kyle replied, back pressed against the corner as he carefully looked around the edge. He had some object in hand that Esial didn’t recognize, punching at buttons, but before he could finish that, Joanna was standing over them, the strange weapon in her hand pointed at Kyle’s forehead. 

Kyle froze, staring up at her. 

“Put the phone down,” she said darkly. 

Esial trembled, unsure of what to do. He didn’t know how the weapon worked. Would it kill Kyle before he could knock Joanna away? Kyle had a firm hold on one of Esial’s wrists, maybe to keep him from trying. 

Kyle did so, and Joanna kicked the object off down the hall. 

“This is how it’s going to go,” Joanna said, leaning down. She grabbed Esial by the hair, making the vampire shudder and grab her wrist with his free hand, remembering very clearly the last time she had done so. “I’m taking the vampire, and you’re going to come with me quietly. Mmkay? I’m selling it off and you’re going to be involved so if you tell the police, you’re getting arrested too, got it?”

Kyle gritted his teeth for a moment, but she touched the still hot tip of the weapon to his forehead, making him flinch back and hit his head off the counter. “Got it?”

“Yeah, fine,” Kyle snarled. 

Esial could see the fire in Kyle’s eyes and knew that his rescuer was making no promises to this woman. Joanna could tell too, it seemed, because she whipped the gun across Kyle’s face, sending him fully prone to the ground. 

Esial moved, trying to wrench himself out of her grasp and get Kyle, but the weapon was pressed to his head. The dust still in his hair felt heavy with the promise of what pain this weapon could promise. 

“You, Vampire, are going to behave yourself, or I kill him,” Joanna said, eliciting a groan from Kyle as he tried to get an elbow under himself, his hand to his face. 

“What happened, hsss, to me being involved?” Kyle asked, looking up at her through his fingers. 

“You just made it very clear you’re not going to comply. This could have been so much easier if you’d stayed out of all this, Kyle. I don’t want you to die, but you’ve made this complicated,” she said standing up and dragging Esial up with her. “Get up, Kyle.”

Kyle did so, hand over one eye. His breathing was picking up, and he was getting paler by the minute. Esial could smell his blood.

“Alright. You’ll be walking ahead of us, and if you get any bright ideas-”

There came a knocking at the door and the three of them froze. 

“Kyle?” someone called through the door. “You alright?”

Kyle was silent and Joanna finally hissed, “Tell him everything is fine.”

Reluctantly, Kyle cleared his throat. “Joseph?”

“Yeah, you alright?”

Kyle didn’t even hesitate. He simply screamed. There were no comprehensible words in the scream, but is soon took on the sound of pain as another bang ricocheted in Esial’s skull and Kyle went down with blood spewing out his side. 

Esial heard the door splinter, he heard Kyle wailing, he heard Joanna’s blood pounding, and he heard his hair rip as he lunged forward, sinking his fangs into the arm holding the weapon. Her blood sprang up into his mouth, and some ancient instinct told him to drink. 

He’d eaten all day, but his body was still starving and this….. He’d never had human blood before. It was…..

Tough hands pried him off of a fallen woman and he lunged to try and get more. There was nothing in this world that could taste that good, he was sure of it. His mouth sang with flavor and all he wanted was more. He would be fully healed to the point where he could fight hippos again. No one would ever hurt him again, he would never be held down by chains and he-

“Oi! Leave it!”

The words pierced his mind and he became aware of how he was salivating, the spit and blood dripping down his front, He felt bloated and overful, there was energy coursing through his veins and stars appearing in his vision as the vampire named Joseph hauled him back away from where Joanna had fallen, still breathing. Barely.  

There were other people in the apartment, some using devices and talking to people Esial couldn’t see and someone was holding Kyle’s wound. 

Esial couldn’t control his breathing, and he was still enough for Joseph to get a better grip on him. “S’alright, man. You back?”

Esial twisted his head to try and see Joseph’s face. He didn’t respond other than to simply tremble, ignoring the blood pooling out in two different places in the apartment as someone clamped their hand over Joanna’s wound. 

“It’s alright,” Joseph said steadily. “You’re alright. I’ve got you. Looks like Kyle’s gonna be okay too.”

Esial slowly relaxed, hearing loud wailing noises not made by any mouth approaching the building. “Alright….”

Esial: @whumpsday @honeycollectswhump @writereleaserepeat @tragedyinblue @hyrules-sleepiest-knight

Before you go

I know a lot of you really like this, I am planning on doing more in this world and Esial and Kyle will show up in those as side or main characters. If you want to be tagged in anything made in this world (I don't have a name for it yet but I'll think of one) let me know.

Part 6

[spinnychaircirclecasting]

actually bestie i keep crossing time zones so thursday can't catch me

[clickerflight]

Aight. So I'mma sit here in my corner and cry then.

Initials

[masterlist]

CW: whumper pov, pet whump, dehumanisation, cutting (NOT self-harm), gore

Mireille hadn’t put too much thought into it, not really. But she didn’t need to. The moment she lay eyes upon the initials carved into the jewelled perfume bottle in the home of one of her suitors, it was decided. 

Henri was a good man, certainly as good as he could get, though not without some imperfections. He was of good stature, broad shoulders, though unaware of how to present them, always slouching slightly, as if the weight of his own frame was too much. And really, that wasn’t acceptable in the eyes of perfection. Maybe Mireille could make him great, could make him her own and teach him how to be proper, but maybe this was the best he could get and she’d just waste her time. Honestly, she’d rather be certain of her efforts, but he didn’t need to know, for his presents still made lovely decor. 

He did have good taste, otherwise she wouldn’t have entertained him for so long. 

All that matters now though, is the sunlight catching in the glass carvings of the bottle, the image replaying in her mind. She wants it too, and she wants it now, and Mireille knows just the possession perfectly suited for this:

Her little ashtray.

There is no thought in her mind of where to do this, who to ask. None of them would see the vision in her mind, the exact way it’s supposed to look. They’d all mess it up, ignorant of the gracefulness she lent to her ashtray. No, this is a personal project.

It is too easy to acquire a proper knife without suspicion. These men –the useful ones– – would bend over backwards just to get a chance at pleasing her. Sometimes she’d go as far as calling it boring, but what else was she supposed to do when all it took was the batting of her lashes, looking up at them with big, dumb doe eyes and slightly parted lips? Her body spoke a language none of them could resist, none of them were ever more than prey to fall in worship. 

And worship they did, falling to their knees to satisfy her in all the ways she allowed them. She was their queen in satin sheets and velvet dresses.

So here she sits, legs crossed elegantly on her precious couch, the fine knife not yet unpacked, resting in a silver case, embedded with diamonds.

No one else understands that not only does the result need to be flawless, but every single step needs to be immaculate, from the tools to the cutting to the one performing. An image has to be created, a scene, and none of those lowly things could ever understand her vision. That was what has always made her inherently different, inherently superior, and deserving of rightful worship. 

A servant rushes into the room, hitching breaths restricted by the working collar, eying the golden bell set carefully on the glass table in front of her. 

“You called, Mistress?” they ask, staring cautiously at the floor, not yet daring to raise their eyes to meet hers. Good. She wants them revering. 

“Yes. Fetch me my ashtray, won’t you?” Mireille drawls, her bubbling excitement hidden under layers of refined grace. “And bring me some strong dogs. They will be needed.”

The servant nods, not worrying their stupid little head about her meaning, teasing what's to come, and rushes out as quickly as they came. They look frail, purposeful like porcelain, probably why she bought them, though their name or number had left her mind long ago. An unimportant piece of information abandoned along the way, replaced with something of value. 

Only minutes later, the same servant returns, gripping the ashtray’s golden leash too tightly. It’s barely noticeable but nonetheless doesn’t escape her all-seeing eyes; the way their knuckles drain of colour disturbs the otherwise pristine scene. They are followed by two guard dogs, muscular and well rested, their posture straight and imposing, their gaze hard and cold like unmoving stone. 

The ashtray looks perfect as usual, the thought both pleasing and stinging in a way that does not fit her image. So Mireille pushes it aside, a worry for later or preferably for never. They can’t have taken long to get him ready. And yet…

“Undress the ashtray. I want his chest to be free” Mireille orders, snapping her fingers. The servant quickly complies, buttoning the fine blouse the ashtray was decorated with open, pulling up away from him and folding it with learned precision. 

It only takes a hand movement for the ashtray to step forward, for him to sink to his knees in front of her. The poor lamb doesn’t yet know what is coming.

“Hold him.”

The ashtray gasps and for a single, disobedient moment looks up at her with big panicked eyes. The way his blue eyes shine in the golden light of the chandelier does nothing but strengthen her resolve. Maybe, in another world, the view in front of her would be a painting she saw at an auction, a beautiful angel wrapped in gold captured by beasts of stone, unknowing of his fate. And like a painting, it is only natural for her to leave her mark.

He doesn’t struggle, even when she can’t imagine this was part of his training, he just looks at her pleadingly, unsure what he is even begging for. 

It’s a scene now and Mireille will be a perfect part of it. 

Slowly, she stands up, taking the silver case from the table as she passes it, positioning herself right in front of the ashtray. It opens with a satisfying click, revealing polished metal, sharp edges, red velvet and her initials finely engraved on the handle. Mireille can just about stop a laugh from bubbling up. 

She crouches down to the ashtray’s eye level, laying a hand on his cheek. He doesn’t even lean into it. “Don’t. Move.”

Mireille takes the knife, letting it gleam in the gentle light, and hands the case to the servant still watching. 

She can’t mess up now. It has to come from her heart.

Carefully, she traces her initials into the skin on his collarbone, making only slight cuts, letting her letters swirl around. 

M. A. B.

Holding the knife like a painter's brush, with meticulous, perfected movements. It comes to her like second nature and the first step is completed. 

In a final decision, she lays the knife’s edge on the first line of the M, watching the ashtray’s breath hitch in horrible anticipation. Not even a wince has broken through his training and Mireille is more than curious to test how far she can take it. 

Were he any cheaper, she’d love to test what would get him to break his training. If she could get him to speak after all. But that wouldn’t be graceful, now would it? It would be a waste.

Instead, she presses it into his flesh, cutting down slowly, precisely. Once, then twice. The ashtray’s breath gets laboured and it only fuels her. She knows what she wants; an ornate engraving, decor on his skin, a signature on her masterpiece.

Fresh, richly red blood pours from the cuts, running down his bare chest like tiny rivers, connecting and separating, getting caught in raised scar tissue.

Mireille moves carefully, taking her sweet time, her lips opened slightly, imitating an artist. Position, press, slide. His flesh parts beautifully, like he was made for this. For a moment, she looks over to the servant, who is pressing the case against their chest, their face showing sloppily concealed horror, and it makes her smile. They would probably call it brutal, ignoring the gentle way her knife slides through his skin, not meeting any resistance. They’d call it violent, not comprehending the second artwork the rivulets of blood form through the hand of fate itself. They lack the mind of an artist and the nature of a human.

By the time she reaches the A, the ashtray is barely holding back sobs, letting out silent, crooked whimpers –a sound so ugly she should punish him for it–, as she etches her mark deep enough to hit the bone. Still, he doesn’t move, doesn’t strain against the unforgiving grip holding his arms, against her carving following the twirls and flourishes. 

She doesn’t admit to herself that it is more challenging than she thought, to follow the rounded lines with a tool that craves sharp edges and straight incisions. The curves of the B make the knife catch on the bone and the ashtray lets out a soundless gasping scream, blue eyes nearly rolling back in his head. The tears he could barely hold back before now run down his face in a disobedient river, mixing with the blood on his chest, destroying her artwork. 

He lifts his head upwards, in a last attempt to stop the flow of the tears, but it only makes them drip from his chin into the gashes and he is destroying everything–

A slap echoes through the room, loud enough to make his pathetic sobbing stop in an instant.

“Get your act together.” Mireille hisses, grabbing his chin and letting her manicured nails dig into his pretty face. “Or I will rip you apart, you worthless piece of trash.”

Only the word Worthless seems to get through to his stupid fucking pet brain. There is a reason he was made into a thoughtless object instead of anything else. His beauty is his only strength, the only reason they didn’t mercy-kill him, punish him for stealing space and air and atoms from anything with more use. 

He is an ashtray or he is Nothing. And if he keeps ruining her attempts to make Something out of him, he will wish she had let him keep his voice to beg for death.

At last, the ashtray doesn’t act up any more, stays motionless and silent as she finishes the B. When she pulls his skin taut, she can feel him tremble with the effort to keep still. Seems like his training had some use after all. 

Finally satisfied, Mireille lays the bloody knife aside, giving herself some time to analyze her work. Briefly, she turns to the servant to order a towel, before devoting her attention back to the signature, quickly overflowing with blood. It’s beautiful, but her interest lies somewhere else. 

She digs two fingers into a line of the A, pulling the incision apart. The ashtray only manages a whimper that she gives no regard to, as she digs deeper and deeper through the tissue, against the continuous blood flow. Then, against the intense red, her own personal gold shines through. 

Bone. 

A pleased giggle escapes her.

It is done. 

Whatever will happen, whoever will lay their eyes upon them, it will be eternally clear who he belongs to. There are nicks in his bone that her knife and her hands caused and he will forever know. 

And when her stupid little ashtray comes back to his senses and remembers his silent purpose, he will thank her for it tenfold.

Taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0, @toyybox, @sowhumpshaped, @clickerflight, @itsawhumpsideblog, @piniatafullofblood let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

i hope you enjoyed this chapter!! if you did, i would be very thankful if you considered donating to @whumpcloud's gofundme for their top surgery (of course only if you are financially able to!!!). it would mean the world to us both <3

[artist-block-alley]

Give him your DS

[genericpuff]

This is day 50!!! Of asking u abt my friends dog I thought it whould be funny so let me just attach the pic

LMAO WAY TO RUB IT IN BY KEEPING COUNT 💀 (i'm so behind on my ask pile i'm so sorry oml)

ur pal's dog is precious 🥺 if you see them any time pls give them extra pets and snoot boops for me 💖💖💖

[sneezysubbyboi]

Simply imagining an intimate scenario where they maintain sensual, knowing eye contact throughout their fit, no matter how intense it gets – only ever parting when they involuntarily close their eyes to sneeze – makes me unreasonably warm and giddy inside 🥰

like eeee~ even through one of the most powerful human reflexes I am unable to shake your lullful gaze

[typhwosion]

Attack on @snewdraws of her moff who've i've been wanting to draw foreevveeerrrr so artfight is the perfect excuse <3

☆*:.Commission info, socials, etc  .:*☆  

[favvnsongs]

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

Batman: Death in the Family (2020)

Happy Birthday Jason!

It’s hard to put to words how important you are to so many of us. Your 40 years of existence in the dcu may have been arduous and unforgiving, but everything you stand for will always resonate with fans who know and appreciate you.

[misswarrioroflight]

a quick and dirty warm-up inspired by shadowbringers

[clickerflight]

Of course tumblr went down when I was trying to put out the next bit of Joseph’s story for ‘From Dust to Ashes’

It’s too late to post as I should be in bed, and tumblr on my computer is being weird. If all goes well, there should be content tomorrow

Good night!

[angelxd-3303]

Watch "Seeing if my Italian husband will react to me breaking the spaghetti again😂 #shorts" on YouTube

I had to, I'm not sorry.

He no longer trusts Peach alone in the kitchen. He called Luigi wailing after it happened, and the boi traveled all the way from the Capital just to scold her.

[ponyartistbrainiac]

I know this won't mean much to y'all but after over 10 years of trial and error and practice and experiments my art has finally gotten to the place I wanted it to be since I was a small girl. I always wanted to make beautiful emotional pieces that i pour my heart and soul into that showed my passion with every stroke and despite being mostly blind I made it.

These pictures gain very little traction and get virtually no notice at all but despite it all I pour hours upon hours of blood sweat and tears to make pieces I can be proud of.

And even though no one understands me or my work (outside of my boyfriend who is the amazing light of my life I can't seem to stop myself from making them from time to time marking occassions only I understand but I always wish people would enjoy the art anyways for what it is.

Perhaps one day people will appreciate my work. Perhaps I will just be a blip in history that no one remembers or maybe some sort of cautionary tale about being autistic and having a passion that burns hotter then anyone can handle. Either way I am proud of how far I have come. Being mostly blind and autistic no one ever believed in me but maybe thats what fueled my urge to want to prove my worth to everyone by showing them how powerful my imagination truly is.

Even if it scares them...

Im not sure why I am writing this tbh my grandfather just died and I have been thinking about my life up until now quite alot this week. Where do I go from here? What do I do now?

My friends are all moving to live around me and its wonderful and crazy and everything is happening so fast. But I wish to push myself even further beyond.

Maybe someday i can make something that everyone can appreciate or atleast my peers. But for now perhaps I should look into new horizons perhaps maybe practice more on my aliens that I love to draw thanks to Outer wilds or maybe work on my animation skills so I can make moving pictures no one understands.

Anyways thanks for sticking around through everything if you have been here a while. The internets on fire and I am doing my best and if you are new... Hi I'm Pepper and I am glad you are here.

And thank you for everything

I started making these paintings after recovering from covid which I honestly thought was the end

I was so over joyed with being alive i painted that first painting of derpy and rarity and I have been chasing that level of zen... that high... ever since and I can finally recreate it consistently. Thank goodness

I was worried it was lightning in a bottle for a while...

Never give up!

[gunnslaughter]

Uhnh...a cool sword?

Is this it? Did I do it?

[vadapega]

It's been a month or more after the whole AI stuff got introduced on Tumblr, is it safe to post untampered art yet?

Anyways, here's a funny cat, would you hug it?

[loving-n0t-heyting]

A lot of ppl look down on self-diagnosers but I will note that whatever their defects self-diagnosis is much less likely to leave you with pills forced down yr throat or yr children ripped from yr arms than the alternative. So I think that is a point in its favour

This was inspired by seeing someone point out that even psychiatrists need to see other psychiatrists to get diagnosed bc self-dxing introduces so many potential sources of error even the experts need help and like. Lol, i have a bridge to sell you. Shrinks can’t self diagnose to circumvent the “free infinite drugs taken at yr discretion” and “always avoid involuntary medication/confinement” hacks, bc the actual role they serve is bureaucratic rather than scientific. If the intellectual demands and scientific precision of going thru symptom checklists explained their prestige and salary a given 6th grader could expect to make 350k$/yr off the bat and a Nobel by the age of 30. The expertise and diagnostic caution you are attributing are a fanciful backprojection to justify an objectively unjustifiable position of credentialed power