#ivory tower blogging

[anghraine]

It's always been intriguing to me that, even when Elizabeth hates Darcy and thinks he's genuinely a monstrous, predatory human being, she does not ever perceive him as sexually predatory. In fact, literally no one in the novel suggests or believes he is sexually dangerous at any point. There's not the slightest hint of that as a factor in the rumors surrounding him, even though eighteenth-century fiction writers very often linked masculine villainy to a possibility of sexual predation in the subtext or just text*. Austen herself does this over and over when it comes to the true villains of her novels.

Even as a supposed villain, though, Darcy is broadly understood to be predatory and callous towards men who are weaker than him in status, power, and personality—with no real hint of sexual threat about it at all (certainly none towards women). Darcy's "villainy" is overwhelmingly about abusing his socioeconomic power over other men, like Wickham and Bingley. This can have secondhand effects on women's lives, but as collateral damage. Nobody thinks he's targeting women.

In addition, Elizabeth's interpretations of Darcy in the first half of the book tend to involve associating him with relatively prestigious women by contrast to the men in his life (he's seen as extremely dissimilar from his male friends and, as a villain, from his father). So Elizabeth understands Darcy-as-villain not in terms of the popular, often very sexualized images of masculine villainy at the time, but in terms of rich women she personally despises like Caroline Bingley and Lady Catherine de Bourgh (and even Georgiana Darcy; Elizabeth assumes a lot about Georgiana in service of her hatred of Darcy before ever meeting her).

The only people in Elizabeth's own community who side with Darcy at this time are, interestingly, both women, and likely the highest-status unmarried women in her community: Charlotte Lucas and Jane Bennet. Both have some temperamental affinities with Darcy, and while it's not clear if he recognizes this, he quietly approves of them without even knowing they've been sticking up for him behind the scenes.

This concept of Darcy-as-villain is not just Elizabeth's, either. Darcy is never seen by anyone as a sexual threat no matter how "bad" he's supposed to be. No one is concerned about any danger he might pose to their daughters or sisters. Kitty is afraid of him, but because she's easily intimidated rather than any sense of actual peril. Even another man, Mr Bennet, seems genuinely surprised to discover late in the novel that Darcy experiences attraction to anything other than his own ego.

I was thinking about this because of how often the concept of Darcy as an anti-hero before Elizabeth "fixes him" seems caught up in a hypermasculine, sexually dangerous, bad boy image of him that even people who actively hate him in the novel never subscribe to or remotely imply. Wickham doesn't suggest anything of the kind, Elizabeth doesn't, the various gossips of Meryton don't, Mr Bennet and the Gardiners don't, nobody does. If anything, he's perceived as cold and sexless.

Wickham in particular defines Darcy's villainy in opposition to the patriarchal ideal his father represented. Wickham's version of their history works to link Darcy to Lady Anne, Lady Catherine (primarily), and Georgiana rather than any kind of masculine sexuality. This version of Darcy is a villain who colludes with unsympathetic high-status women to harm men of less power than themselves, but villain!Darcy poses no direct threat to women of any kind.

It's always seemed to me that there's a very strong tendency among fans and academics to frame Darcy as this ultra-gendered figure with some kind of sexual menace going on, textually or subtextually. He's so often understood entirely in terms of masculinity and sexual desire, with his flaws closely tied to both (whether those flaws are his real ones, exaggerated, or entirely manufactured). Yet that doesn't seem to be his vibe to other characters in the story. There's a level at which he does not register to other characters as highly masculine in his affiliations, highly sexual, or in general as at all unsafe** to be around, even when they think he's a monster. And I kind of feel like this makes the revelations of his actual decency all along and his full-on heroism later easier to accept in the end.

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

*The incompetently awful villain(?) in Sanditon, for instance, imagines himself another Lovelace (a reference to the famous rapist-villain of Samuel Richardson's Clarissa). Evelina's sheltered education and lack of protectors makes her vulnerable to sexual exploitation in Frances Burney's Evelina, though she ultimately manages to avoid it. There's frequently an element of sexual predation in Gothic novels even of very different kinds (e.g. Ann Radcliffe's The Mysteries of Udolpho and Matthew Lewis's The Monk both lean into this, in their wildly dissimilar styles). William Godwin's novel Caleb Williams, a book mostly about the destructive evils of class hierarchies and landowning classes specifically, depicts the mutual obsession of the genteel villain Falkland and working class hero Caleb in notoriously homoerotic terms (Godwin himself added a preface in 1832 saying, "Falkland was my Bluebeard, who had perpetrated atrocious crimes ... Caleb Williams was the wife"). This list could go on for a very long time.

**Darcy is also not usually perceived by other characters as a particularly sexual, highly masculine person in a safe way, either, even once his true character is known. Elizabeth emphasizes the resilience of Darcy's love for her more than the passionate intensity they both evidently feel; in the later book, she does sometimes makes assumptions about his true feelings or intentions based on his gender, but these assumptions are pretty much invariably shown to be wrong. In general the cast is completely oblivious to the attraction he does feel; even Charlotte, who wonders about something in that quarter, ends up doubting her own suspicions and wonders if he's just very absent-minded.

The novel emphasizes that he is physically attractive, but it goes to pains to distinguish this from Wickham's sex appeal or the charisma of a Bingley or Fitzwilliam. Mr Bennet (as mentioned above) seems to have assumed Darcy is functionally asexual, insofar as he has a concept of that. Most of the fandom-beloved moments in which Darcy is framed as highly sexual, or where he himself is sexualized for the audience, are very significantly changed in adaptation or just invented altogether for the adaptations they appear in. Darcy watching Elizabeth after his bath in the 1995 is invented for that version, him snapping at Elizabeth in their debates out of UST is a persistent change from his smiling banter with her in the book, the fencing to purge his feelings is invented, the pond swim/wet shirt is invented. In the 2005 P&P, the instant reaction to Elizabeth is invented, the hand flex of repressed passion is invented, the Netherfield Ball dance as anything but an exercise in mutual frustration is invented, the near-kiss after the proposal in invented, etc. And in those as well, he's never presented as sexually predatory, not even as a "villain."

[wiley-treehouse-gardens]

[goombasinastack]

splatoon 3 hot take turned impromptu essay

was stuck offline in splatoon 3 because internet was actin up and i realized how pretty the photomode splatoon 3 filters are compared to the actual game

i was taking photos on brinewater and thought. damn. this game looks fine but i miss how VIBRANT splatoon 1 was! i wish i could play sploon 3 with this photomode filter on all the time. and brinewater is the best map for this because of the sunset lighting! so i went to one of the worst offenders mapwise for general color—undertow spillway. it is a warm gray mess:

for someplace underground, it’s WAY too warm of a tone—even if there are skylights, they aren’t very well defined, as they’re off in the background—they’d be better with some light shafts to pop out more, imo.

so here’s undertow with photomode filter #6 (this would’ve been a video but tumblr limits to 1 video per post):

and i think this looks a lot nicer, colorwise! the icky warm gray is shifted to a soft pink—and while that’s still not in keeping with the lack of obvious skylights, it works better than warm gray.

so then i opened ibis x paint and got to work on a filter that would hopefully help elevate the entire game’s look:

on top is photomode filter #6, in the middle is the original screenshot, and on the bottom is my proposed filter.

i upped the contrast, brightness, and saturation a bit, then added a 5% pure magenta (#FF00FF) overlay layer on top of that. then i added a slight gaussian blur to emulate antialiasing, which nintendo refuses to do for some reason!

and i wanna play splatoon like that! i miss the vibrancy and intricacy of splatoon 1…

incoming splatoon 1 essay‼️

not only were the colors eye-bleachingly bright, but the overall game feel was much more immersive—especially in ink physics. you could paint trees, and the ink would drip down through leaves as if it were rain… ink splatter would respond to the movements of platforms, keeping its intertia as it dripped! you could see the textures of surfaces through the ink, as if it were an actual liquid instead of a layer of thick oil. 3 doesn’t have any of those special touches.

there’s also the music… 1’s ost feels so much more WEIRD and experimental than the later games, and that really helps cement that this is not human society—this is a new thing—which tracks for splatoon 1, as it was so zany nobody had ever seen anything quite like it before! splatoon 2 follows this sheer melting-pot of brashness and creativity with evolving and varied styles—where once was punk and weird samples in Squid Squad is now groovy rock in Wet Floor, jazz in Ink Theory, and also whatever Sashi-Mori was. also i <3 chirpy chips. splatoon 3’s music goes back to that punk, but i feel that it loses some of the charm and creativity of the first two games. C-side is pure metal, and hardly uses any weird instruments. there have sparsely been other splatbands involved with regular battle music—Yoko&tgb call back to the jazz of Ink Theory which i love! Off the Hook’s new tracks delve into a new style in piano rock. but the main band kind of falls flat to me. :(

let’s talk stages. in splatoon 1, stages were wildly different from each other, including skateparks, construction sites, underpasses, malls, sewage plants, and other locals that are culturally underground. the rest of the trilogy moves away from this in a story standpoint, as ink battles evolve from punky, diy competitions into full-fledged championships in 2 and 3, with advancing battle infrastructure as time progresses. that’s fine, and honestly it’s cool to see that kind of worldbuilding! but in 1, each stage was designed about and influenced by the area it represented. Arowana Mall is a straight line with high vantage points on the second/third story because it’s a mall. Pirahna Pit features convenyor belts that shuffle refuse around because it’s a trash plant. Blackbelly Skatepark has so many hills and valleys because it’s a skatepark, for goodness sake. splatoon 3’s original stages have some of this charm, but it feels lost in ambiguity. why doesn’t Mincemeat Metalworks have small moving platforms on cranes or other heavy machinery? Idk, have some grates and one-way drops, and a car on a post. why isn’t there any water incorporated into the stage design of Brinewater Springs? Idk, have 2 paintable walls and a tetris piece. 3’s original stages have little to no connection between their locals and the geometry, which make it feel same-y compared to previous games.

maybe this is because of the inflexible philosophy of the designers—or their corporate oversight, maybe. for stages, you need to make a straight line or tetris piece with few routes to push, in an effort to promote the game’s main premise of Chaos. for music, you need to make punk songs that aren’t too weird so they don’t drive away the parents. maybe the little ink touches could have been missing because development was rushed?

i honestly dont know why it happened out this way—perhaps the splatoon team just needed more time to cook, in order to squeeze out that extra 20% of game feel? or maybe it was that speculated corporate oversight, i dunno. things WERE missing on launch���notable exceptions being X rank, online tableturf lobbies, and no more than three salmon run maps. i know we’ve yet to even get the DLC but for being about 75% of the way through the game’s content lifespan, but splatoon 3 feels incomplete. there have been improvements, yeah! i just wish there could’ve been more. i would rather have waited another year for splatoon 3 if it were polished that much better, y’know?

i honestly feel like splatoon 1 captured that creative, no-holds-barred mantle of Chaos better than 3 does. 3 feels… flanderized, in a way. the curse of trilogies, perhaps? writing about it more, it feels like not only have the in-game sports of turf war been ripped out of its seedy home and thrust into the spotlight, and gone “mainstream” (see: massive squidsport companies investing in multimillion battle lobbies with holograms and lockers [sunken scroll about that!], flying coffee machines that grant you brief invincibility, new rules and techniques that allow squid surges and rolls, etc.), but also the Real Life Physical Video Game Cartridge of Splatoon has been popularized massively with the sequels on the Switch. maybe i’m not missing the “vibrancy” of splatoon 1 when i look at the colors and photomode filters of splatoon 3, but instead the inherent punkiness and counterculture inspiration that i see in the original.

fuck capitalism, i guess!

[aud-chron-images]

[anghraine]

#is this what all my phd friends have experienced or will experience...

My best friend from my PhD program actually asked what sword I would use, theoretically, to defend my dissertation from the snake. I chose this one:

Google AI Overview

Yes, some universities have a tradition of including a "snake fight" portion in thesis defenses, where students fight one of the university's snakes. The quality of the student's thesis determines the size of the snake they must fight, with better theses resulting in smaller snakes. After the committee reads the thesis, they tell the snake master how good it is, who then chooses the snake. In some northern European countries, an external examiner called the "opponent" fights the snake on the student's behalf, with the opponent's skill level based on the thesis's quality.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Oh the SHADE Ficino is throwing at Luigi Pulci in this letter to Lorenzo de’ Medici.  

“The laws abhor infamous report and hate slanderers so much that they are particularly severe on those who speak foully, against even a foul man. ... But today I ask no such thing of the laws; for I do not wish the laws to be marshalled on my behalf against fleas, which will perish at the first onset of cold. 

So let that little imp [Pulci] bite your Christian priests with impunity, as he was long ago allowed to bite Christ. Let the mob judge at random a teaching which is scarcely known even to the very few. Let little men, who have no sense, pass sentence as they please on my life, which is known to God alone. For these and similar matters I, like Socrates and Zeno, care nothing - or at most, like Aristotle and Theophrastus, very little. [...]”

he does the same in another letter to Guiliano de’ Medici: 

“I am not surprised that that dog [Pulci] constantly snarls at me, for it is his custom to snarl at good men and men of learning, as it is his custom to snarl at the soul and at God. Indeed, he is so conditioned by his character and habit that he cannot help snarling. This does not matter to me, since he is the kind of man from whom slander is praise and praise is slander. 

Let him snarl in the company of the great and the humble, so long as it is publicly understood that his snarling gives no pleasure to the Medici.” 

poor Ficino wouldn’t get as he asked, since Lorenzo was especially fond of Pulci and they wrote ribald poetry together, often mocking Ficino’s philosophy and Academy. 

[tomathomatommy]

bad jokes by jeff? i have one for you your literal fucking existence, you heartless bastard

[wilburdehollin]

wilbur if youve heard from nymph call me. and enough of these sad theatrics we're all bored with your fucking games. q.

Go and look for Nymph yourself, Big Q! You don't need me, remember?

[sam-keeper]

Hey, you see the recent output from Jon McNaughton, painter of all values traditional and all aesthetics that uphold the Western Tradition? Yeah, is it just me or is it starting to look a little... you know... degenerate?

[galeorderbride]

Seriously, I am blessed <3 this blog was meant to be a tiny little corner that maybe 10 people followed lol. I'm so glad to be wrong because I got to connect with so many wonderful people here :)

I made a poll for a 100 follower milestone oneshot, and the winner was (of course lol) Gale fluff/smut. I've finally finished it, and I seriously hope everyone likes it because I made it for you!

So, can't stress this enough, 18+ MDNI

Oh, and it's not beta read. I will edit later lol if there are any mistakes

Fic (and warnings/description) under the cut and can be viewed on ao3 if you prefer.

Welcome Home

Gale Dekarios x F!Tav 18+ MDNI

Words: 5.2k

Rating: Explicit for graphic smut, piv sex, oral sex (m and f recieving), fingering, creampie, soft!dom Gale, use of pet names (sweet girl, love, etc), light choking with fingers. Fluffy and romantic :)

Summary: Gale and Tav spend their first night in Waterdeep postgame, and he wants to make her feel welcome :)

...

Funny how in the entire, months long adventure against all dangers known to the Sword Coast, the one memory that stuck to Tav the most was meeting Gale. Pulling him out of an unstable portal, the lure of his bright, scholarly voice calling her ‘friend’ in the first fifty words. Little did she know, he spoke to her a prophecy. From that moment on, Tav and Gale spent all their time together, getting lost in his conceptual monologues and trading books as a solace against the ever present violence. 

In between the lines of borrowed books and stolen glances, falling in love was inevitable. From an unexpected kinship, to touching friendship and eventual passionate romance had been the one blessing in such a strenuous journey. Locked in the expectation of each other, eager for the night to fall, for the candlelight to illuminate the azure of Gale’s tent as an open door. A routine after each near death experience, to share two bedrolls squished together and become expert in the ways of making love without bruising their skin on the hard ground below. They were a proper couple by the journey’s conclusion, soaked in love and devotion, ready for the permanency of their relationship to finally bloom with the defeat of the Elder Brain. 

Their affections made clear and official when Gale proposed the evening after the city had been saved. 

One would think with all that familiarity that Tav would have no problem arriving in Waterdeep with her new betrothed. Settling into each other never came easier back in those wretched patches they called camp. Effortless to just exist with confidence. But as soon as Gale and her crossed the threshold into his towers, she felt like a stranger to him. Unsure of what the proper action might be, to the point where she found herself afraid to remove her cloak. 

Everything felt foreign. As if she’d never been anywhere but on the road, either to Moonrise or Baldur’s Gate. The tower was new, of course, but even her clothes felt odd. Clad in a woollen skirt and forest green blouse instead of armour. Hair down and well groomed rather than pulled back for outdoor convenience. Skin clean and devoid of bruises and cuts. As ridiculous as it may sound, she forgot how to be anything else but a scrapping adventurer. And to be in a lavish tower full of every amenity she could dream of, alone in the start of domestic bliss with her beautiful partner. Something so commonplace, yet completely implausible to her. 

“Your palace awaits, dearest,” Gale said, presenting her the main room of the tower with that comical charisma impervious to awkwardness. 

Handsome didn’t begin to describe him. Hair tied back in a half up style and an ivory button down held tight against his body with brand new suspenders. Healthy and happy, soon to be free of the orb and all the consequences along with it. Tav had never seen him so elated. He simply glowed with the promise of their love. The promise of peace. 

Tav smiled, the stretch of her lips failing to reach her eyes as she pondered about the tower. Distracting herself with the warm toned decor of brown leather couches and exposed stone walls. Gale magically lit the fireplace at the centre of it all, warming them against the cooling weather of late Uktar, made colder by the tidal winds of Waterdeep. She wanted to say something charming, but couldn’t find the words. 

“I’m sorry, Gale, I’m—a bit nervous. Not certain why, this should all be so normal but…oh, I don’t know,” she said, scoffing at herself. 

Gale stepped close to her, wearing that affectionate, closed-mouth smile he always did when she needed reassurance. Strong, sculpted hands found their way to her arms, squeezing just hard enough to ensure her eyes stayed on his. Shivers down her spine juxtaposing with the growing warmth of the fire. 

“This isn’t exactly normal for us, hmm? Accustomed to living under the impression that we may die the next morning, worried about whether we’d turn into illithid or get done in by Bhaalists. Not much time for the soothing hum of what we once missed,” he said, caressing the sides of her arms lightly. “Fret not, I’m a little unsure, myself. We’ll adjust. How about a glass of wine?” 

Tav felt eased by his touch, and his offer for something to take the edge off. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

Placing a small kiss on her forehead, he said, “Have a seat by the fire, my love. I’ll prepare the finest blend in my cellar.” 

Gale bustled about in the concealed kitchen as Tav settled herself on the sofa closest to the windows, enlivening the living room with maroon and yellow stained glass and piles of books on their sills. Everything there was to know about him existed within these walls, the tower containing his very life breath. Excitement beat through her heart as she contemplated all the things he had not thought to tell her, waiting to be found in every corner. Silly things like unfinished poems and a favourite paper weight, if he played different songs on the piano at different times of day. All in between that she was meant to spend her life learning with him. 

“Athkatlan clarry,” Gale said as he walked into the living room with two goblets and an intricate, tall bottle of mulled wine. “I’ve been thinking about this blend since we first cooked together. How you loved those darker spices, cloves and peppercorns, and your admiration for the blackberry sauce I made. How I hoped I’d be able to share this particular bottle with you. I’m glad that dream has come true.” 

Notes of thyme and cherry touched her lips before the wine blanched her tastebuds with the heavenly taste of vanilla. Warm, mirthy flavours that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. The soft happiness of being thought of enough that he had a wine decision months before they could even pop the cork. That was simply Gale; he had a way of making her feel like the only person in the realms.  

“You had my tastes down so early,” she said. “I can’t possibly compete.” 

“Don’t think of it as a competition. You’ve never been to Waterdeep, have no family or friends here, and yet you still came here with me when I asked you. For that, the least I can do is think of a wine to match your tastes,” he said. 

Tav smiled, confident enough to rest her hand on top of his, “Where you go, I go. That was decided the same day you chose this wine for me.” 

Neither of them noticed how close they’d drawn, each sip of their wine leading them nearer and nearer. The sides of their thighs touching, Gale’s arm lingering behind her back, ready to snake his arm around her waist. Her hand still held his, comfortably resting on his lap. That beckoning look in his eye had Tav spellbound, the seductive leer ending in the corners of his lips, stretched to a subtle, desirous smile. An expression incapable of feigning innocence, pooling with a tender but heated want. 

Gale slowly lifted her hand to his mouth, peppering soft kisses against each knuckle grazing against his beard. Tav’s stomach tightened, tingling with sensations of desire. Heat from the fire sunk into already burning skin and the warm blush of the wine in her blood. She often wondered if he did magic when he touched her like this, rendering her still and speechless. Her pride would never let her ask him, lest she find out the actual answer and prove to the world that she really was just a fool for him. 

“Come here,” he said with his lips grazing her fingers, “Let me kiss you.” 

Soft lips found hers as Gale finally let that hovering arm wrap around her waist. Unburdening her nerves with every caress of his palm against her back, slowly but surely finding its way under her blouse. Fingertips grazed her spine, counting each inch from the base to the top. His other pressed against her cheek, holding her close. Tav melted under his kiss, a light tickle between her legs as he slipped the tip of his tongue inside her mouth. Not too much, just enough to ease them into a gentle make out. Gale never rushed. He enjoyed playing with her, feeling the warm wetness of her lips, the amused yelp when he nipped at the fragile tissue, all the ways to get her body to lean into his. And it always worked, proven by the hook of her leg over his thighs, the silken heat of her core driving him. 

Tav could’ve stayed like that for ages, able to forget the world around her with his passionate kissing. He always said he could do better, develop his technique after being out of practise for so long. But even the first time, tucked away in that starry illusion he conjured, it was the best she ever had. 

“You deserve to be worshipped every single day, my dearest love. But tonight, especially. For the first time, we are home. This is your home, if you’ll have it. I want everything to be perfect,” he said, mouth still hovering over hers. The taste of his breath on her tongue, laced with vanilla wine and spearmint. 

“Oh, Gale, you’ve done so much to make me feel welcome. Things are already perfect,” Tav said. 

“Then let’s make perfect last. Come with me upstairs, there’s more I’d like to show you,” he said. 

Hand-in-hand, they left the living room and walked up the spiralling steps to the second level of his tower. Tapestries of different scenes hanging on the wall, all with accents of florals, latticework and myths of great heroes of history. Candlelit sconces lighting their way up. Nothing short of a fairytale, as if she was wandering the castle of a magical prince. Well, in a way, she was. 

Somehow, she imagined the study he showed her on their first night together. The very centre from which he cultivated his life before meeting her. But he led her through a different door, one leading to a spacious, well kept bedroom. A king-sized four poster bed against the furthest wall, a closed terrace with beautiful double doors. Night projected from the moonlit glass, droplets of rain beginning to patter against the panes. Another fireplace sat adjacent to the bed, lit amongst intricate stone just like the one downstairs. In front, two armchairs and a circular rug, different shades of dark red sewn in an intricate style. 

“Oh my goodness, don’t tell me this is your bedroom? You wizards do like to live lavishly,” Tav said as he led her into the room. She stood in the middle, craning her neck to see every hanged painting and arcane trinket on each surface. Even after looking two or three times, there was something else to see. 

“To tell the truth, the luxury of the room isn’t for me. Not really. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate fine decor and comfort. But most nights, I just fell asleep in my study. I wanted this to be something to share, to be a shelter of beauty and warmth for the one I love. Now that you’re here, I finally have a reason to close the books at the end of the night,” he explained, joining her where she stood and holding her close. 

Tav smiled, running her hands up his chest and landing at his shoulders. The soft cotton of his button down like a cool breeze against her palms. Both his arms were snug around her waist, swaying her lightly in place. 

“I regret to inform you that neither room will be offering much sleep, Mr. Dekarios,” she said, craning her head up to meet his lips in a soft, chaste kiss. “Not if I’m in here.” 

“Oh, believe me, sleep was never an option,” He said, grinning between kisses that deepened with each smack of their lips together. “Tonight, let me welcome you to your new home. Show you the splendours of this tower and all the magic it can provide—in the mortal way, of course.” 

Teasing him was all she could think to do to temper the giddiness within her. His poetic charm folding her stomach upside down. “Don’t be too fantastic, or I’ll start asking for it every night.” 

“Hmm, a threat or a promise?” He asked, but there was no need for an answer. 

Words were nothing compared to the sultry kiss he gave her, deepened with the slide of his tongue along her bottom lip and a soft moan crackling from Gale’s throat. This was the start of their lives together, away from danger and unpredictability. Beginning with a simple kiss in the middle of the bedroom that would be theirs forever. 

“Now, darling, you have a choice,” he said to her, turning her body so her back pressed against his chest, his hands caressing her arms, shoulders and collarbone, just barely avoiding the peak of her covered breasts. His stubble tickled against her bare cheek, unable to resist planting little kisses along the side of his jaw as he moved her around. 

He continued, “Armchair or bed?” 

Tav’s entire body wanted to erupt in embarrassing giggles, but managed to keep her cool as she took a long, drawn out breath. “What exactly am I choosing these for?” 

“Choose,” he demanded. 

She bit her bottom lip, tempted by the tender warmth of the firelight, “Armchair.” 

He moved her body a couple steps to face the chair, whispering in her ear, “In that case, I’m going to get you naked now. And then, I’m going to make you cum on the armchair. All well and good, sweet girl?” 

Every part of her tingled at the sound of such a pet name. At this point, she’d have let him do just about anything he wanted. Her voice shook with anticipation, “Oh yes, all well and good.” 

Gale began with the small buttons on her blouse, keeping her back to him. As his fingers undid each one, he kissed the side of her neck, the sound of his lips sucking and licking at her skin fluttering in her ears. Tav reveled in the shots of warm air as her shirt opened more and more, all the way until Gale pulled the fabric from her shoulders. A simple, cream coloured bra kept her covered, until he snapped the clasp off with expert precision, freeing her breasts for him to squeeze and knead. Tav sighed deeply, letting her head fall into the crux of his shoulder while his fingertips teased around her hardening nipples. Tracing the little buds and continuing to kiss her neck at the same time, so fervent that a trail of saliva dripped from his mouth down her skin. It was positively debauched, and yet so filled with devotion and love. His hands never allowed a part of her to go untouched, not even trying to seem like he wasn’t falling apart for her in an instant. 

Letting go of her breasts, he let his hands trail to the belt of her wool skirt, chafing against her bare waist. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear now, simple affirmations like ‘beautiful’, ‘magnificent’, ‘my entire universe’. Tav could listen to him all night, just lying in his arms while he shuddered every adjective to describe her humanly possible. But not now, as he tucked his thumbs into the skirt and gently pulled the fabric off her rounded hips. He played with the lace of the matching underwear to her now discarded bra, letting his palms wander from the hem of the panties to her butt, squishing the soft flesh. 

“How can something be so soft? You defy the greatest alchemists with the way you’ve been sculpted,” he said, giving her a playful pinch on her left cheek. Tav couldn’t stop that giggle, jumping forward as she felt the ticklish sting. A little distraction so he could bend down and pull off the last bit of clothing she had, now fully naked in the middle of his bedroom. Their bedroom.  

“Shall I take a seat?” She asked, motioning towards the armchair. 

“Mmm, yes please. So obedient, I don’t even have to tell you where to go. Seems you left your stubbornness in Baldur’s Gate,” he said, watching closely as her hips swayed in her walk to the chair. Each second he was blessed to witness her, she became more beautiful. Magic not even he could conjure. Intertwined so strikingly with the glittering veins of her soul. 

Tav giggled, sitting on the chair with her knees tucked to her chest, as if hiding her body from the man who’d seen it countless times now. “Trust me, when I get more comfortable here, I’ll be back to my normal, argumentative self.” 

Gale smirked, stepping in front of the chair, towering over her sitting form. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, my love. But I’ll not tolerate closed legs in this bedroom, dearest. Open up.” 

With a quick motion of his finger, a magical, invisible force pried her legs open on the chair. Tav gasped as she felt the soles of her feet drag along the velvet fabric. The cool air kissed the surface of her core, already wet with desire before he’d even touched her. How could she not, when exposed to the ethereal beauty of Gale. The absolute picture of perfection to her, with his flowing chestnut hair lined with grey, his toned torso glistening under candlelight as he slipped off his shirt. He was impossible not to look at, as if he walked out of a classical painting. 

Firelight glowed against her skin, her muscles melting into the comfort of the chair as she watched her beloved smirk at her. Eager tingles danced across her palms, yearning to touch his bare torso, feel the prickle of his body hair, kiss the orb tattoo that would soon heal away forever. Addicted to caressing her body against his own, coated with hot sweat as she imagined him everywhere on her, inside her. The craving was too much, Tav bringing one hand to knead her breast and the other down to her clit, gently rubbing the sensitive tip between her index and middle finger.

That is, until Gale lowered to his knees in front of her and moved her hand away. He grasped her wrist, bringing her fingers up to her mouth and shoving them inside for her to eagerly suck. 

“No no, sweet girl,” he said, clicking his tongue, “Keep those fingers in your mouth. Let me make you cum.” 

“Oh, Gale,” she said through her fingers, still prodding at her tongue, “Please…” 

“Aww, please? Please what?” He asked, his voice dark with lust as he inched his face closer between her legs, enough to feel the chill of his breath blowing against her clit. Tav exhaled, craning her head back as she fought the pulsing desire to be filled, licked and sucked until she was ruined. 

“P-please make me cum, Gale,” she said, taking her fingers out of her mouth as she spoke. 

He raised a brow at her, distancing his head back as he said, “Put those fingers back, beautiful. And then I’ll do exactly what you want.” 

They never had much time during their journey to enjoy themselves for a while. To let Gale take his time in pleasing her, demanding things of her. Tav felt even more blessed than she already did to be here with him, where they could spend the night adoring each other, exploring every way to make love. This, though, seeing Gale confident and assertive, would definitely be a favourite. 

Placing her fingers back in her mouth, letting him watch as she poked and prodded at her tongue and throat. A muffled, heart stopping growl emanated from him as he neared her pussy again, letting a trail of saliva fall from his lips, sinking onto her clit. All she could do was whimper, her inner thighs shaking as he finally trailed his tongue all across her slit. Using the tips of his thumbs to spread her open as he gently wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking and kissing at the sensitive bud to keep her irresistible sounds in his ears. Mixing with his own moans, debauched with the slick of her essence drenching his beard. 

Gale loved pressing at the soft flesh of her pussy with his thumbs, giving in to the temptation and pushing one inside of her. Continuing to lap at her clit, feeling it swell against his tongue as she drew closer to climax. He couldn’t help but smile every time she bucked her hips into him, using her free hand to clutch the arm of the chair while she struggled to keep sucking her fingers. Gods, sometimes she’d get carried away, and he’d hear a little gag from her throat, driving him further into her cunt. 

“Gods above, that feels so good! I’m close…so close,” she exclaimed through her filled mouth, concentrating on the intense precipice she balanced on. Her hips grinding against him, nearly screaming at the sensation of his lips slurping at her clit. Only a few more seconds went by before an orgasm snapped through her insides, hooking her legs over his shoulders and crying out his name. “Gale! Gale! Ugh…” 

The paradise of tasting her was unmatched to any other experience. Floral, buttery notes along his tongue as he used the tip to lightly trace across her clit, shaking from overstimulation. Gale replaced her fingers with the thumb that thrusted in her pussy, sharing in the flavour of her orgasm. 

“Good girl,” he said, “You taste amazing, I could survive on your cunt alone. Always doing so well for me, but I need to see it again, alright?” 

Tav’s sigh was breathless, wheezing with pleasure as she came down from the intense climax. She didn’t even have time to answer before he hugged his arms around her hips, scooping her legs around his waist to lift her off the chair. Limp in his arms, she began to kiss across his neck, licking and sucking to the point of marks. More desire between her legs when he’d groan in her ear, or shudder at the sensation of her nails gently scratching down his back. 

Silk sheets met her backside as he lowered her down to the mattress. Plunged into even more comfort, certain she’d never experienced a softer bed. Her arms stretched above her head, letting Gale do whatever he wanted to her. Staring at her, he never allowed his eyes to part as he undid the buckle of his belt, removing his trousers. Tav bit her lip when his cock sprang free, thick and hard with the slick of precum dotting the tip. 

“Let me touch it,” she begged, remembering she’d get what she wanted if she was polite, “Please.” 

Gale laughed, that flirtatious scoff he did when he knew he was a step ahead. Circling her like prey, driven to madness by the beauty of Tav. He couldn’t believe she wanted to be with him, stay with him for the rest of their lives. A silent vow in his head that swore he’d do everything to show how thankful he was. She’d given him the greatest reward a person could ever ask for. 

“So pretty when you’re begging for my cock,” he said, climbing onto the bed behind her. Positioning himself so his waist aligned with her face. Gale shook with arousal when he witnessed her licking her lips, eyes glued to the head. He asked her, “Do you want to taste me, dearest?” 

Tav nodded, moving her neck forward to envelop her mouth along the head of his cock. Gently caressing the tip with her lips, rimming the tip of her tongue along the sensitive ridge. He shuddered, almost cumming down her throat right there, just enough strength to resist. This was her time, and once was never enough for Gale. He traced his fingertips down her body, stopping to pinch her nipples and graze her inner thighs before sliding two into her cunt. She yelped in surprise, lowering her mouth to capture his shaft deeper. 

“Suck me all you want, but focus on finishing for me again, sweet girl. I told you I wanted to see it again. Can you do that for me?” He said, voice sensual and darker than his usual tone. Overtaken by extreme lust and the biting need to fill every part of her with his seed. 

Tav nodded with him still in her mouth, her oral fixation kicking in as she felt herself working towards a second climax just because she felt him gently fucking her throat. Combining with the hot, delicate pleasure of him thrusting his fingers inside of her. Massaging her clit with his thumb in perfect circles, hitting every spot she loved. He used his free hand to hold her head on his lap, playing with her sweat-laden hair. 

“Oh gods above, Tav! You give me more than I could ever imagine,” he said, throwing his head back as he relished in the pleasure of her tongue lolling around his cock. “Come for me, my goddess. So perfect, all for me. All for me.” 

Gale’s cock popped out of her mouth as she gasped in ecstasy, a second orgasm blossoming in her core when his fingers hit just the right spot. Her already soaking cunt dripping onto his hand, body hot with sweat and spasming muscles. During her come down, she flicked her tongue along the tip of his cock, tasting the faint saltiness of his precum. Hooked on the sounds of his shaken breath as he laughed with terrifyingly seductive satisfaction. 

Warmth covered her back, so heated and shaken she created her own heatwave. Between heavy breaths, she said, “Flip me over, please? It’s too hot.” 

“What impeccable timing for you to say that. I’m going to fuck you now, love,” he said, quickly grabbing her waist and flipping her to her stomach in one, effortless swoop. Her head hung slightly off the foot of the bed, smiling to herself as she felt Gale move his body between her legs. His cock grinding against her core from behind. 

Kisses trailed down her spine, a calm moan leaving her lips in enjoyment. Giggling as he nipped at her shoulders and scrunched her hair in his fist, pulling just hard enough for a tickling sting. He used his hold on her hair to turn her head, pressing his lips to hers in a passionate, burning make out. Pushing his tongue against hers with unbridled, sultry moans. Never over the taste of him, the scent of him, the weight of him, everything forever. 

“Gale, please, I can’t take it anymore. More, more,” she begged, happily overwhelmed by the wet kisses he spread all over her face. 

“More what, my dear? Use your words,” he whispered, biting and sucking at her earlobe. Tav’s legs bent in desperation as he pressed his rock solid cock at her entrance, teasing the slit but never penetrating. Just pushing the tip, teasing and teasing until she reached the point of crudeness he wanted her to be. 

“Mmm put your cock in me, Gale. I want to come again, please!” She cried out, voice high and tired. 

Allowing him to take control meant more than simply wanting to be submissive during love making. After months of constant fear of death, violence and all other forms of danger, the two of them could finally be vulnerable. Open themselves to one another in any way they liked, for as long as they wished. The very comfort Gale wanted to give her when they arrived at his tower, a beginning of a thousand nights of passion, tenderness and joy. And a thousand more after that. 

“I love you so much, my heart. My soul. You are just…everything to me,” he said, body melting into hers as he slipped his cock inside. Slow, tight stretching conquering every nerve in her body. Endless pleasure in the feeling of being completely taken over by him, his chest against her back as he began to thrust into her stimulated cunt. His hand clutching her ass feverishly. 

“I love you, Gale, please don’t stop! I’m…gonna…” 

Tav couldn’t finish a sentence, not when the wet stretch of his cock thrusting into her kept going and going. His pace was strong yet loving as he kissed every part of her he could reach. Hands holding her head for support. He wanted badly for her to finish again, one more time before he found his own release. There wasn’t much left of him, his cock twitching between her vibrating walls sucking him deeper and deeper. 

There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t feel something. Clit rubbing against the soft sheets while he pounded into her, languishing within as she felt his rhythm changing the closer he got. Each time he moved, his moans grew into desperate, pleasured whimpers. A sound like paradise to her ears, bringing her nearer to that final climax. Paralyzed under him as she let herself drown in bliss, going silent as her body quaked in orgasm. Muscles tightening with that weaker but heavenly spasm, her mind couldn’t believe he had driven her to such a high. 

“Ohhh, yes, good girl! Finishing so good for me like that, three times. I’m going to make you mine, my love. Make love to your cunt until I cum deep inside you,” he said, growling in her ear like a feral beast. An irresistible side of him, made even better when knowing she was the only person who’d get to see it. 

Both of them moaned in tandem as Gale spilled inside of her, hanging his head in the crux of her neck and shoulder as he held her tighter than ever. Full body tingles coursed through Tav, drunk on the ecstasy of being the vessel for his pleasure. Feeling him soften inside her while he peppered kisses along her back. 

“Welcome home, my love,” he said, tone gentler as he came down from lust. He turned over, laying beside her as their hair hung off the foot of the mattress. 

“You’re quite the host, Mr. Dekarios. Do you do that with all your guests?” She asked with a sly grin. 

Gale wrapped his arms around her shoulders, snuggling their bodies together as he kissed the side of her head. “You’re not a guest, my love. This is your home, as much as it is mine. I’ll spend a thousand days and nights telling you that if I must.” 

Tav hooked her leg across his waist, ignoring the warmth and sweat of their skin so she could be close to him. Be taken to that paradise unique to her beloved wizard. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[anghraine]

I finally read a good article about Austen and eighteenth-century socioeconomics that gives rough approximations of eighteenth-century prices/incomes in modern (I think c. 2014) currency, but is appropriately emphatic about just how rough those approximations must always be given drastic differences in the economic worlds we live in. It's actually much more about the economics than Austen, and particularly about how much descriptions of "middling" incomes and what was affordable to people who had those incomes is still a conversation about a tiny, tiny elite in terms of the overall population at the time.

Austen-wise, though, the author also found room for a tangent in which he goes off on a scathing condemnation of Mr Bennet in socioeconomic terms, which I do love to see. Most baronets generally had land and incomes far closer to Mr Bennet's than Darcy's and yet Mr Bennet can't be bothered to even slightly provide for his children's futures beyond what was legally required by his marriage settlement (even the girls' meagre inheritances mostly come from Mrs Bennet's money rather than his). The author acknowledges the passage about Mr Bennet saving to counteract Mrs Bennet's extravagance and also how this is an indictment of Mr Bennet as well as Mrs Bennet, something that criticisms of him often skate past, and even points out how enthusiastic Mr Bennet is about the convenience of Darcy paying for it all in a way that can be read as funny and endearing, but also as distastefully shameless.

Anyway, it was nice to enjoy an academic text again, lol.

[mimicofmodes]

I saw a post going around about costube historians analyzing period film costumes for accuracy and it kind of got under my skin, so I'm sitting down and writing ... not exactly a response to it, but a discussion of the topic.

(It would be a direct response except that I don't actually watch costube, because quite frankly I can't watch/listen to people discuss things I already know. And I don't want to be like "they don't do X!" when maybe they really do X and I'm just not aware. But a lot of the complaints hit the same points that have been brought up against fashion historians for reviewing costumes for decades. I would also note that I have looked into specific videos where there were claims of terrible costuber behavior and watched them and found nothing.)

If you're going to analyze a period film's costuming in any way, you should still interact with the historical aspect to some degree. If you want to talk about the use of bold stripes in Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow, for instance, and you don't mention that they were in style during the period the film appears to be set in, it's kind of weird.

Likewise, yes, if you're critiquing primarily from the angle of historical accuracy, you should also engage to at least some extent with the reasoning behind the inaccuracy. If a reviewer doesn't do so at all, then yes, their review is probably not as good as it could be.

People pointing out an inaccuracy (or many inaccuracies) are not inherently scolding the costume designer. Even if their tone is something other than sweet. Sometimes they are scolding other people involved in the production, like the director who mandated a particular costume, or just a general notion of TPTB. Usually they are divorcing the art from the artist, though, and just reviewing the costuming from their particular viewpoint and knowledge base for a likeminded audience.

Sometimes, yes, they are complaining directly about the costume designer. This is not a crime. Some costume designers (for instance, Sandy Powell) have an incredible grasp on fashion history and excellent taste when it comes to diverging from it. Others simply don't have as in-depth of an understanding and make design decisions sometimes based on stereotypes and myths. Some costume designers will explain their decisions in interviews or blog posts and make it clear that they didn't make a truly informed decision about accuracy because they didn't know enough about the period. It's important for both sides of the equation to stop painting the other with too broad of a brush ("ivory-tower elitists who have no idea of a production's needs or budget" vs. "costumers who know how to sew but not how to do historical research").

If you're allowed to complain about a writer or a director or an actor doing something you don't like in a movie, you're also allowed to complain about a costume designer. You're allowed to have aesthetic preferences, and even to talk about them without hedging every five seconds to make it clear that others can disagree, although some of this is beneficial with any critique. Why would it be otherwise?

This seems really obvious to me, but maybe it's not? But "they costumed that female actor in an anachronistically sexy way because sex sells" is a feminist issue. The assumption that women's bodies should be sites of less-clothed allure while men's should attract by being more covered (with more layers than in modern dress, with cravats, etc.) is sexist. Complaints about female characters being costumed inaccurately are often being made along these lines, and pointing out that the producers insisted on it or something does not mean it's suddenly unproblematic that every female character deemed fuckable has to have low necklines at all times and modern shiny hair.

It's true that fiction isn't non-fiction and shouldn't be taken that way, but it's also demonstrably true that viewers do take cliches in film aesthetics as accurate when they see them enough times. People cite Scarlett O'Hara's 18" waist. They believe there were no bright colors before the 1920s and that women couldn't have put their hair up unless they were wealthy. These beliefs have consequences when it comes to public perceptions of history, and if films perpetuate them it's perfectly reasonable to point out that they support ideas about e.g. gender roles that trads express today.

It's also simply funny when a film's hair or costuming or makeup is supposed to evoke a lack of artifice but actually requires quite a bit of artifice because people don't naturally have perfect hair and skin and so on.

If you don't like reviews of period films that focus on the accuracy of the costuming, maybe ... don't watch/read reviews by fashion historians and historical costumers? At least unless they're vetted for you by someone who doesn't mind that?

[showfallgiftshop]

yeah id love for you to kys in front of me actually id probably get a raise. come on over buddy!

"you have no empathy for those below you" i was a minimum wage worker i am the lowest of the low stfu 😭

you understand this is my job right?? same as telling people to kts is apparently yours 🤔

'perhaps' you should surrender -Jesse 😋

You say that as if I work here.

Forgive me for wanting to live. I apologize if me living causes you distress. Maybe I should just come on over to your little happy abode and blow my brains out all over your slackjawed face? Would you prefer that?

You are a pathetic excuse for a human, you have no empathy for those below you. I hope you are crushed by pillars of salt and ivory towers.

[wiley-treehouse-gardens]

[dundeelemonade]

there’s a site somewhere on the web that is hosting a writer’s very prolific backlog. one of the stories they’ve written is about a power imbalance relationship between a crabby lady who is slightly ridiculous about matching her makeup to her clothes and her hot boss. another one is an extremely expansive loz:botw au that’s had the serial numbers lovingly scrubbed off and the triforce heroes in a very fun polyamorous trio.

the botw one stars a developmentally peculiar girl obsessed with collecting everything she possible can, a whiny loser of a magic using prince in his ivory tower, and an incredibly hot demon king who was brought to life centuries ago cause some adorable moron sang him into existence from sheer adoration of the beauty of the Void.

i think the demon king’s name might have been shortened to kaz? i need to read it again. it’s named after the girl. i can’t find it anywhere in my bookmarks or my blog. Please Help.

[drdemonprince]

went into my msc (currently in progress, and actually necessary for my field—i held off for years until that became clear bc i was v skeptical) thinking i would want a phd after and im slowly realizing its? not as important to me as i thought and i felt really bad about that at first but thanks to your recent posts i feel less bad about it

like i would simply rather write for myself and have a regular bills-paying job than scramble for funding and funnel my writing time into a research proposal. it just does not feel worth it

yeah, it's really not a sustainable way of life for the majority of us, and it sucks the joy out of the areas of study that motivated so many of us. get a fuck-around day job if you can swing it (The Professor Is In blog is also filled with excellent advice on modifying an academic CV into a competitive resume), enjoy the creature comforts of it, and then do what you're actually passionate about with the free time you have bought for yourself.

Academia utilizes a variety of cult-like tactics, including isolation and disparagement of all who leave the fold. But life outside of the ivory tower can be just as meaningful and the work can be just as legitimate and enriching as the work done inside it -- often moreso, because you're not shackled to a limited number of job options and thus have more freedom. Nobody that I know who left academia regrets it -- they earn more money, do on-the-ground work that's more likely to actually matter, and they have so much more control over where they live and the hours they keep.