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ajthecrayon · 2 months ago

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a sinner saved

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thank you to @z-eel @lurlurlurlurlur @m1-lo @indigostation this thing would not have seen the light of day without these four. so kisses and hugs to them <3 Pairing: Barty Crouch Jr x Evan Rosier Tags: Alcoholism if you squint, nonsexual d/s dynamics, religious guilt, religious trauma, impact play, after care, homophobia mentioned. Word Count: 5k a03 link

Barty was trapped in his head again, the memories of the evening swirling meanly in his conscience. His body sunk into the couch, threatening to swallow him whole if his thoughts didn’t first. He licked over his split lip, the iron taste slightly grounding as he stared at the worn-torn carpet as some cheesy sitcom ran in the background. The laugh track mocked him as he tried to wrangle the inner monologue that fought to hurt him. He choked on his breath as today's voice of the evening rang loudly through his mind. His Mother’s shrill tone echoed painfully, rattling the inside of his skull as if she were sitting next to him on the couch. Each word bit into him painfully, the words poisoning his blood in a way only his Father’s beratement had ever done.

He had been making poor decisions about the way he chose to cope with the mess that was in his mind — not that he’d ever admit his mind was in disarray. His Mother loved him, and he knew that. He loved her too. Motherly love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

He was having the time of his life. Barty found comfort in crowds of strangers, pounding music, and overwhelmingly bright lights. The smell of sweat, weed, and alcohol-stained breath was almost overwhelming as he got lost in the sea of bodies.

It was another beautiful night of debauchery, swaying his hips and grinding on any stranger that he saw fit to join him. The tall man he was dancing with was a marvel, with light blonde hair, dark eyes, and equally dark skin. He feels the need to apologize to the stranger, for something he’s done. Several shots in, he doesn’t know what it is. He’s done nothing to the stranger. Sad green eyes flash in his mind’s eye, and Barty ignores the screaming in the back of his head that this stranger’s eyes are the wrong color. Too brown, too full of lust. Evan’s eyes have never held such an emotion. Barty didn’t pay much heed to the thought. He tried to focus on the slurred and muddied warnings as if a locked-away part of him was begging him to stop. He places his hands around the stranger's neck, his nose pressed against his throat as he dances closer. His jeans sagged, and his cropped shirt rose with the action, and the too-tall man responded in kind, his warm hands placing them on his bare hips. Exploring the expanse of his skin with curious hands, too curious.

He does all he can to distract himself from the delicious torture that is the stranger, his gaze wandering to the corner of a room, he spots a girl surrounded by a group of men. College-aged if he were to guess. And she looks anything but accepting of the current situation, in his inebriated state he chooses to do something about it.

A surge of drunken-fueled irritation found itself. Coursing through his veins, he bids the tall stranger goodbye. A gentle kiss to the corner of his lips, lips where a piercing should be. He blinks that thought back and remembers the girl's uncomfortable face. The stranger lets his fingertips linger on his hips. Barty notes the soft hands, unlike the rough hands he is used to.

Barty weaves through the crowd, after one too many drinks he finds himself preferring to punch first and ask questions later. He hates boys like that, flashes of his own experiences hit him full force. Hands wandering his body — hands he most definitely did not want on his body, and he has to swallow back the feeling of vomiting.

The crowd bumps against him as he strains his neck to keep an eye on the corner. The girl is pulling away as the boy is reaching to touch her hair. She has a weary smile on her face, still trying to be kind even though she’s clearly uncomfortable. He shoves his way out of the sea of bodies, and into the corner. There’s a few noises of protest, but he pays them no heed as Barty’s fist makes contact to the boy's jaw, a sickening crack was loud over the shitty edm the club was playing. His fist follows through, a knee meets his stomach and that’s the last thing his muddied memory can show him.

The next thing he remembers is being shoved into the back of a cop car. His fists were stained a pretty red, and the familiar feeling of a split lip made itself known as the adrenaline fades. He doesn't remember much of how he ended up in the cell, just that he did. He guesses that's where the disassociation started, the stained floor of the cell burnt into his memory.

He posted bail, and his mother came to get him. Using his one phone call to call her instead of Evan. He wishes he had called Evan. They were in a bit of a fight at the moment, and he couldn't bring himself to remember exactly why. The only thing looming over him is the overwhelming feeling of guilt when he thinks of Evan’s name. Dark green eyes flashing with pain appear in his memory. It’s hard to keep his wits about him with such eyes reflecting his shortcomings.

His Mother tore into him when they got into the car with her nails she always kept long, and sharp not unlike the sharp silver tongue she rarely used on him. And Barty was too in his mind to care. Words still hurt, of course. They tore him up from the inside. Disappointment, Idiot, It didn't help either that he was arrested at a well-known queer club. He wasn't exactly out to his parents, knowing well their stance on a life of sin they said. Shortly after berating him, Barty was kicked out of the car. Before he could even process it, she was driving off. He struggled to keep up with the reality around him, his perception of it moving faster than he could think.

Barty remembers flashes of traffic lights, honking horns, and the tell-tale beeping of crosswalk timers, somehow – someway he makes it back home safely. He doesn’t understand how he got up the crumbling flight of stairs and back into his and Evan’s shared apartment, but that’s where he finds himself. He’s brought back by the TV switching off, the mocking laugh track no longer buzzing in his ears.

“I was watching that,” he complains, his voice cracks from disuse. He looks up at Evan, craning his neck slightly to make eye contact with him. His eyes are reminiscent of the leaves of a pine tree. Sharp and a gorgeous green that is so undeniably Evan. The right color this time. He’s reminded of the pain that was once in them and he focuses his gaze back to the carpet. His brain is constantly replaying the memories of that evening.

Disappointment

Idiot

Sinner

Evan watches him carefully, by the way, his eyes can’t even seem to focus on the faded carpet he has doubts about the stability of his lover’s mind. Evan sighs.

“You were not watching that.”

“I could’ve been.” mumbled so lowly, that Evan could barely hear him.

“I didn’t know we had a TV screen on the carpet, then.”

Barty goes silent at that. He leans back against the couch cushion, the cuts of his mother’s words are staining his insides with tar-thick ooze, internally corrupting any sense he has. His hands tremble, unable to process everything that was threatening to tear him from the seams. He isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or sob. Sob Sob Sob. His inner voice screams, but he just can’t bring himself to produce the tears. If he does he’ll be giving into his Father, Into his Mother, Into the church that raised him. He’ll be forced to sit in the indistinguishable emotions that make him want to rip his own heart out and squeeze, forced to feel the blood rushing just to remind himself that he’s human. Barty refuses to let them win. Let them in. The thought of crying so openly brings him back to the confession box where his sobs were free, and led him to begging for forgiveness. Asking Father why he was born the way he was. Why didn’t God love him? He’s reminded of unwanted hands, and unwanted touch. The barrier between Father and altar boy no more.

Evan sits next to him on the couch and dares to run his fingers through Barty’s hair in a soothing manner. Barty flinches slightly, jolted out of his thoughts by his touch. His too-cold hands are a stark contrast against his heated skin. “You have to tell me what you need.” He reminds firmly that any fight they were having previously was put on the backburner for the time being. Barty looks back up at him from where his gaze was on the old wine stain that they could never get out of their carpet, he pouts. Instead of the pain in his eyes, what he found was concern. Affection. Never pity. Barty couldn’t stand being pitied, and Evan knew that better than anyone. Evan knew him better than he knew himself.

“But you know what I need, Rosie,” he says, his voice wavering and unsure. His feelings were a confusing tangle of insecurities and doubts. He feared leaning into the safety net that was his Evan.

“Yes– but you still have to tell me, so I can give it to you.” he coaxes. Evan moves his hand from his hair and cups Barty’s jaw he runs his fingers over his pout. He traces over the bump of the already scabbing split lip. Barty shivers under the attention, and he trembles slightly as the rough skin of his fingertips gently traces the raised scab on his bottom lip.

Barty’s breath hitches. He hates admitting this. He’d sooner get shot than admit this to anyone, but Evan wasn’t just anyone.

“I need to cry,” he says weakly, looking at Evan. His eyes flickered to his pierced lips. Shining metal is in its rightful place. Evan’s hand that cups his jaw, squeezes his cheeks between his fingers and thumb firmly.

“So brave and obedient for me. Are you able to tell me how you want to cry today?” he asks softly, his tone melodic as if he was speaking to a stray dog ready to take off or attack at the first sign of trouble.

There were many ways that Evan could make him cry, and it was always so good whenever he did. Barty swallows. “...Anything that hurts,” he admits. A buzzing voice in the back of his head tells him he deserves it. That he needs to be hit, to be shown that action always reacts. And this is his consequence.

It’s his fault, Father said. Having lustful thoughts for another boy. Sinful touches in the bathroom during bible study. Sweet sinful kisses.

Disappointment

Idiot

Sinner

Evan sees Barty’s eyes start to fog over slightly, and he lets go of his cheeks to lightly tap the side of his face. The contact makes a light slapping sound. Barty blinks a few times, as he processes the light sting that bloomed across his skin the fog clears as he does.

Barty leans into Evan’s too-cold hand, his breath is shaky as he tries to ground himself. He leans into Evan’s hand. His touch is tender and gentle as he caresses his cheek. Evan waits a few more seconds before placing a gentle kiss on the side of his head.

“Anything that hurts, huh?” he pretends to think as if they haven't done this song and dance before. “Go pick from the box what you want me to use on you, baby,” he orders. His tone is soft but it leaves no room for argument. Barty keeps his cheek pressed to his palm, only moving to kiss where his cheek once sat. After a beat he stands up, a little shaky, but thrumming with need. He moves from the living room, only stumbling slightly over his untied shoes that quickly were abandoned as he reaches their bedroom. He moves the dark duvet out of the way as he falls onto his knees on the side of the bed they kept in the box.

He finds what he wants easily under the bed. Over the years they’ve collected a few mix-and-match items. Toys and tools of all sorts. His hand brushes a silk blindfold, and he considers it for a minute before shaking his head. He's already overwhelmed and losing his sight wouldn't help. He shivers at the sight of the flogger, that one stings if he remembers correctly. But he's looking for something with more impact. He’s left with two options. A paddle with heart-shaped holes in it, with a dark rosey leather wrapped around the handle. Or a normal spanking paddle to allow for some cushion with air resistance. Less painful. Not painful enough.

Disappointment

Idiot

Sinner.

Barty takes both, knowing Evan would like to have options. At least that’s what Barty tells himself. He holds them in his hands and comes back out to the living room where Evan is sitting patiently. He sits next to him and hands the two paddles. Evan’s hands grasp both clearly familiar with the grips of the paddles. Barty watches as he weighs both.

“Which one do you want?” Evan asks, always giving Barty the option of choice. Barty freezes. Which one does he deserve? This is the question he hears instead. The danger of the choice hangs over his head, a sword threatening to drop and split him in half if he isn’t careful. He doesn’t want to think. He’s too stupid to think. He stutters over his words, and he bites his tongue. He sounds stupid too.

Idiot.

“Tell me what you're thinking.” Evan’s voice is sharp, sharper than the unkind words winding themselves around his heart. Thorned and unforgiving. All he can do is stare at Evan, he feels so apart from the conversation. The warmth of Evan’s thigh against his bare one is faint, and it does little to comfort him.

Disappointment

Idiot

Sinner

Three small words that shouldn't sting as much as they do, but they sting. They sting more than the flogger. Burn more than freshly melted wax dripped with care on his skin. The words brand themselves on his body and he feels the burn in his throat as he tries to speak. They burn until he can't feel — until he's numb. He feels owned by the weight of the words. Barty chokes on the feeling internally. He needs to be reminded who owns him.

Barty’s eyes are unfocused as he stares at the paddles, a few seconds of silence floating between the two. “...I need to be hit. I deserve it. Please Evan.” his eyes flick up to him, near desperation on his face. Evan’s mouth flattens into a thin smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. There's clear hesitance lingering in the air.

“Mm deserve it? I'm not sure you deserve it, pet.” he voices, standing from the couch with both paddles still in his hands. Barty makes a pathetic noise as he assumes Evan is denying him. He deserves it, he’s been the worst. He needs to be admonished for what he’s done wrong.

“Though if you think you do, I'll be happy to hear you out in our bedroom while we get you ready.” He offers his hand to Barty as he stands. Barty willingly takes his hand and allows himself to be led to the bedroom. Evan has to walk this line carefully. Often Barty blurs the lines between what he needs and what he deserves. And what he needs is a safe reason to cry.

Evan huffs a bit, thinking about how to get Barty back on track with the meaning of these little punishments. While there to make him cry, it wasn't there because he had done something wrong.

“Get where you belong, love,” he orders, and Barty falls into the familiar motion. He doesn't need to think as he undresses. Folding his clothes and setting them on the dresser. He's naked now, with tattoos, piercings, and scars visible.

He sits on his knees on the bed in front of Evan and looks up at him. His mind dwells on how he's getting what he deserves. Understanding that he's in trouble, not unlike the beatings his own father gave him when he was young. He was trapped in that mindset. So small, and having no control.

“Tell me why you think you deserve this.” Evan orders, holding the two paddles in hand. His eyes are sharp and calculating. Barty loved Evan like this. He tries to answer but Barty chokes on his voice before he can even start, shame bubbling hot in his gut. He desperately wants to plead for forgiveness, praying that his sins be washed away without discomfort. The thought makes him sick.

Sinner

Evan closes his eyes in thought.

“I suppose I’ll have to beat it out of you then since that's how you want to be.” His tone was level, not allowing the concern to bleed through. Barty would take it for pity and everything they’ve been building towards will fall apart. He makes a decision and his eyes open to focus on the man before him.

Barty shivers visibly, finally - finally he would be getting what he deserves. His eyes watch Evan carefully as he awaits an order. He feels his mind falling ever faster into the headspace he craves. Evan on the other hand was growing ever more concerned with Barty’s silence. He was usually more vocal than this. Evan snaps his fingers and points to the bed. And without even a modicum of hesitation, Barty gets on all fours for Evan.

Barty’s gaze is focused on their blanket. His head hangs heavy and he’s already shaking with anticipation. He hated how slow Evan was. He just wanted to get to the good part. His shoulders were beginning to burn. His train of thought is interrupted however as he is disrupted by Evan showing him the two paddles once more.

“Choose,” he says simply. Evan watches him carefully. Barty taps the ones with the heart-shaped holes in them. He wants it to hurt tonight. He wants the paddle to beat the unforgiving touch of his sins off his mind. Evan’s touch is the only touch he wants to know.

Repent

Evan nods, his face unreadable. He tosses the solid one onto the floor for the time being.The solid wood hits the ground with an unceremonious thud, the next thing Barty hears is Evan smacking. the paddle against his thigh, testing the weight of the paddle. There’s a resounding smack that echoes in the air, and Barty lets out a weak whimper just at the noise.

Evan hits again to feel how much he thinks Barty would be able to handle. This one’s smack was a lot crisper than the one without holes. He looks at it, and his finger traces the small heart-shaped holes that allow for the air to pass through. It was beautiful and custom-made. The handle had Pet delicately etched into the wood; the hearts in the middle sat in the pattern of the card eight of hearts. He takes the paddle and traces the end across Barty’s back, and his reaction is immediate.

Barty does his best not to squirm under the gentle dragging of the wooden tool across his skin. Evan stops on the top of his thighs, lightly tapping the soft skin that sat there. He admired the way it jiggled slightly, he was careful to avoid his balls — pleasuring him wasn’t the focus of today’s activity. Barty took a sharp intake of breath at this tap. He wrinkled his brow at the sharp intake of breath, as if he was surprised he was tapped at all. Barty leaned forward, his chest hitting the mattress. He wasn’t able to trust the ache in his shoulders, and the shaking in his wrist that made itself known. He preferred this position, it gave him little room to run away.

Evan is surprised as he falls forward, his hand instinctively finding his chin to turn his head so he isn’t straining his neck.

“Give me your color,” he leans down to his ear, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He brushes back his hair that still has blood in it from his earlier fight at the bar. Barty’s eyes are squeezed shut, clearly a bit more distressed than he’s allowing himself to let on. “Green…” he croaks out, desperation and eagerness clear in his tone.

“Thank you, such a good boy.” Evan tells him, and he is thankful. Barty is handing over his entire being to him at this moment, and it's a thrill that Evan could never tire of.

Barty doesn't react to the praise, but it's okay. He will be reacting plenty soon enough. Evan gives a small warning tap with the paddle before raising it high, and swinging down fast with a harsh smack against Barty’s ass. The sound is loud — cracking in the air and Barty jumps, his once closed eyes, squeezed so tight from trying to be anywhere but his own mind are forced open. It doesn’t process at first, the sound barely reaching him where he’s buried under the weight of his sins. The weight of this incessant need to please his parents. To appease a God he no longer places his faith in. Barty feels the sting in the plumpest part of his ass, and it isn’t entirely unpleasant. The sensation settles over his skin where the paddle hits him, and he squeezes the blanket that sits below his palms. He relaxes and sighs, and just as he’s about to relax his grip on the blanket Evan is bringing down the paddle once more. A grunt pushes past his lips and he hisses. It’s right in the same spot the first one is. Evan’s hand runs over the skin, almost apologetically. Barty clenches the blanket to ground himself. His fingernails scratch against the fabric in such a way that makes him cringe, and his hands fly to lock themselves behind his back. Evan pauses, his hand rests on his ass that still sits in the air.

Barty senses the pause, the hesitation. And he just- he doesn’t know what he needs. He whines, and Evan is brought out of his pause. The paddle is brought up and down in quick motion. The only tell that Evan has moved at all is made known when the paddle cracks back down against his ass. Harder than this time- entirely unforgiving.

His skin is turning splotchy, and Barty feels it starting to burn. The smack against the tender skin licks up his spine and he cries out. He squirms, his knees fighting to keep him balanced, and it’s even harder to keep his back arched for Evan. To allow the punishment he deserves.

“More- please…Evan please.” he begs. He’s breathless. His eyebrows are drawn together and his eyes closed. He's the picture of desperation. And Barty is desperate. He wants to be forgiven. To be allowed to live his life that he chooses. The life of so called sin he's found happiness in. The guilt is near suffocating. It gathers in his throat threatening to spill out.

Sin

Evan pinches his cheeks where they're turning blotchy and Barty squirms a bit as if trying to pull away. He whines and tries to run away from the burning pinch of his fingers, he pulls his hand away only to be replaced by the paddle coming back down and what follows is one big smack followed by three more in quick succession. Four, five, six, seven. He almost falls to the side, to curl up and run away from the pain, he gasps for air. “Evan– wait– wait.” tears are lining his water line. His vision blurs, and Barty can feel the heaving of his chest, his pulse rushing in his ears.

Evan’s cold hands, having sat down the paddle, run themselves over the hot skin. His ass is a shiny red, no longer blotchy. He pressed into the skin, his hands easily leaving a white mark on the flesh due to the pressure. The skin is hot beneath his cold hands.

Barty whines trying to pull away from Evan’s torturous touch, but his hands are quick to grasp at his hips and hold him in place.

“We aren't done yet, love,” he reminds him. Barty needed to be forced into the vulnerability he feared so deeply. Evan kisses the tender skin, the red beaten flesh hot against his lips. And then he bites. His teeth dug into the soft skin. Barty yelped and a sob almost forced its way out.

Evan licks the bite mark as Barty squirms in his hands, and picks the paddle back up.

“No, No— no, Evan— please!” he cries out. Hot tears gathered in his eyes threatening to spill. His face is bright red from the way he rubbed his face on the mattress. The gathering tears only deepen the redness of his face. He feels the buzz of his thoughts dull to a quiet roar. He stares behind him at Evan, a pleading look on in his eyes as they shine, and a deep pout on his lips.

Perfect. Evan thought

He raises the paddle and it comes down hard and fast with a resounding smack. The paddle barely leaves his skin as he brings it down four more times, twice on each cheek, until the tears flow down Barty’s cheek. His skin is so deep red that it’s without doubt that it will be bruised tomorrow.

“Precious…” he tells him, Barty has started crying full force, hiccuping. Heavy tears rolling down his cheeks. He acts as though he’s still pulling away from hits that will never come. He squirms and wiggles as Evan discards the paddle on the floor and runs a hand over the abused flesh. His tears begin making a wet spot on the mattress below him. He helps guide Barty onto his stomach and stretch out his legs from the time spent on his knees.

“I’m- I’m sorry-” Barty croaks out. His voice was muffled by the mattress. Evan slips onto the bed easing Barty onto his side so he can breathe. His hand slips into Barty’s hair watching him cry. He is such a pretty crier after all. Blotchy cheeks, wet with tears. His long lashes clumped together. Not even the snot that leaks ever so slightly out of his nose is enough for Evan to ignore the beauty he is when he cries.

It’s really a shame he doesn’t cry more often, but oh well. Evan is more than happy to give Barty the space and reason to cry. He rather his hand or paddle give him the coaxing he needs, a welcome pain that casts a shadow over the shame he’s been taught. He falls apart in Evan’s hands. Shaking with the force of his sobs, his ass stings. Feeling his pulse in the heat of the abused flesh. The mattress's silk sheets bleed through the haziness of his senses. Everything becomes sharp. Evan’s placating touch, the soothing feeling of his cool fingers on his warm scalp. He cries, and cries. His Mother’s hate filled ridicule clouds his stream of thought once more, but this time he allows himself to sit in the pain it causes. Barty is free. Evan’s words and heavy hand washed away the sediment of nasty thoughts the current had brought in. Debris littered his quiet storm. The dulling sting reminded him who he belonged to. Who owned him? He wasn’t a slave to the slicing words of his parents. They no longer had the right to hold the sword of Damocles over him.

He long gave the hilt of the blade to Evan. His Rosie who wields the blade with intent to harm, but never scar. A blood-letting that truly heals him, the venom his parents contaminated the essence of his being with. A blade that has cut the unwanted hands of his past off his flesh. And will continue to cut when the heat of the rotting hands return. When venom replaces the blood in his veins.

Barty cries until he can’t anymore, and Evan holds him through it. As Barty comes down from his high, Evan is there. The familiar scent of Arnica pulls him back to the present as the cool cream is spread across his skin. Barty twitches slightly, alerting Evan to check on him. “You back with me, Bee?” His voice is quiet, patient. As if his voice were any louder it would scare him off.

Barty nods, not quite trusting his voice to respond. His hand twitches, and feels around for Evan’s. A cool hand meets his warm one in an instant. He smiles, lets out a shaky breath followed by a deep inhale. A long exhale. Just like Evan taught him. Eventually Evan moves him onto his back. And Barty just stares.

He’s unable to help the giddy feeling he feels in his chest after these sessions. How Evan reveres him. Like he’s something to be admired, and treated gently. Even after showing him how strong he is. Barty’s hand reaches up, shaky. And caresses Evan’s jaw. The low light of the lamp in their bedroom casting a gentle shadow over his features. He’s just barely able to see the slight twitch in Evan’s lip. Returning Barty’s own dopey grin in his special gentle way. His lip ring shines slightly, bringing out the silver specks in his green eyes.

Evan appears angelic to him. Heavenly. And Barty is a sinner saved under his touch.

#ajthecrayon writes #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller #dead gay wizards from the 70s

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evilmaycry · 3 months ago

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watched the first three episodes of the show (not on netflix) and here are my observations/opinions

and yes, i will be hypercritical idgaf the guy should've played all the games before writing a show

spoilers ahead, of course

episode one starts with soldiers breaking into someplace. rabbit guy steals shit... scary stuff!

he speaks with an american accent but complains about america. ok...?

the demon design in this first segment was fucking bad lol

- "Dante" is excessively Nero. JYB has been Nero for so long that actual fans will probably find it impossible to see the character as actually Dante... three episodes in and it's been quite impossible for me to get used to the voice. i kinda see Dante, but all I hear is Nero, including the little jokes.

- I think we all saw the "one liner" thing from a trailer/teaser. Still didn't land. Who would find it funny??

- There's podcasters in universe. Anti religion message? DMC was always very neutral regarding that. In my notes i wrote "current events mixed with DMC (action, fantasy) is cringe. Stop this guy from writing shows and cancel season 2"

- DEMONS ARE FROM A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE. the marvelization of current writing will be the downfall of entertainment

- "darcom"

- I suspect the rabbit is the show adaptation of Arkham in a more cringe way.

- bio-organic weapons mentioned in the show. Notes said "please don't make a RE cartoon. They're going to make Leon a right winger. In episode three, it's mentioned Enzo sent Dante to Raccoon City 🙄

- Lucia screen time with absolutely zero dialogue. Let us remember that Lucia is pretty much a match for Dante in power and she gets caught by humans a little too easy.

- I wish they didn't reveal Vergin's voice so early but whatever.

- Dante was raised by a single Eva and sparda was not around. Canon Fatherless Dante... also they never mentioned if he got killed, just that he's been gone.

- Dante doesn't have E&I

- the vice president is like albert wesker mixed with the cyborg dude from the government in invincible lol

Overall, the first episode was cringe, however the animation and performances are good. Only that

--- Lady Lieutenant Arkham is a cop and hates demons because they almost killed her mom once?! I suppose there's more backstory with that.

- Arkham wants power to protect his family. I wonder where the writer got the inspiration for that!

- WE'RE federally funded DEMON HUNTERS!!

- Lady Mary is a cop.

- Darcom the government demon hunter cops super soldiers have anti demon bullets that have special drugs encapsulated that react with "demon DNA"

- "demon" is a word for probably alien, because they're not magical beings, but entities with traceable DNA... lol

- the show insists upon itself with the music (it's not a bad selection though) and CONTROVERSIAL OPINION the evanescence version of Devils Never Cry is not good

- the action sequences are entertaining.

- Dante truly believes he's a mutant superhero

- of course the brown guy with a thick accent is the most intelligent and informed person in the room

- at this point i figured that the darcom federal demon hunters look like saiyans in the space uniform

- the legend of sparda is quite literal and the world as we know it is barely 2000 yrs old

- lady Mary is somehow able to best Dante in combat, took the "'necklace" (WHICH BTW IS REALLY UGLILY DESIGNED) and he is not fast enough to snatch it back, although he was basically teleporting on these guys a few minutes prior to the fight

- Jackpot uttered one more time. Makes it way less iconic and impactful. It'll probably mean nothing by the time we get a team up with vergil

- End notes for ep 2 are "how does the government have anti demon teams and weaponry and also drugs that harm them, if temen ni gru never happened and this would be the first big demon event the modern world will experience?

OH THERE IS A SLUR FOR HALF DEMONS AND LADY MARY USES IT CONSTANTLY ON DANTE!!!

- im not going to dignify this adaptation anymore by referring to her as "lady" - so Mary swears every line she gets. i'm fine with that

** EPISODE THREE and Mary is doing police brutality baby! She is using the same anti demon weaponry on Dante AND enzo and mentioned that the UN would understand.... lol

This is where Raccoon City gets mentioned. Keep my wife (ada and leon) out your fucking mouth. I'd rather eat dirt than seeing a RE show written by this guy

- Mary says "we all have dead families and traumatic childhoods" .... 😬

- This episode pretty much lays it that sparda was absent and Dante is fatherless lol

- Mary feels pretty racist. Idk what they were trying to accomplish making her a fully adult woman call the guy slurs and be a cop

- Vice president albert wesker is actually the one governing the country... ok?

- Mary is so deeply unlikable that feels like a true insult to the source material. Not even Dante is as bad as this

- Echidna, Agni and Rudra show up. A&R are sentient demons and not just automatons for the swords, who would actually be the sentient ones. lmao

- Mary was keeping up a fight with all of the previously mentioned, high level demons. With two handguns

- "god bless america" uttered.

- jackpot uttered for the third time. OK we get it, it's his favourite word.

- i did not like seeing Dante gored and it feels like an edgy little move to nerf him.

- At the end it's pretty much confirmed that Vergin is alive, but the ones in the know have known this whole time. Only a shocker to noobs

Still a few episodes to go. So far the show is only ok during the action sequences because they're well animated. The rest is shit from an ass

#dmc cartoon #dmc spoilers #dmc cartoon hate tag #dmc #devil may cry

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classof09genderswap · 2 months ago

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art by roseisepic

The Characters:

Here is all the main Class of 09 characters in this genderswap AU!

T.W. Mentions of Gr00ming, Ped0philia, and R@pe,

Nick - Nick is the gender-swapped version of Nicole, and he is of course the main character, He is just as cruel as Nicole, cynical, selfish, and mean, he is a bit meaner than Nicole, also not to mention while Nicole doesn't like men, He doesn't like women, especially considering most of them like Kylie and Krispina always hit on him, He moved a lot throughout his life and lives with his dad and older sister

Jackuh - Jackuh is the gender-swapped version of Jecka, and to put it simply he is a mean twink, He is Nick's best friend and they are quite the homies, maybe even more lol, like Nick, he has a bit of a distaste to women, but not as much, he has an abusive mom who threatens him alot and he hates it.

Emile - Emily is the gender-swapped version of Emily, he is a violent alt boy who does drugs and should not be trusted by ANYONE, he's also quite gay... but at the same time he's not, he claims to have a "gangster girlfriend" He's very violent and unstable and you shouldn't hang around him LOL

Jennifer - Jennifer is the gender-swapped version of Jeffery, she likes to watch lots of anime, unsurprisingly she is a fujoshi who sexualizes gay men, she has crushes on Nick and Jackuh and even draws then kissing sometimes and put the drawing in her locker, and while Jeffery watches the animes "with the girls" she watches of courses shonen anime, which is "with the boys" and she ships every popular anime ship around that time like Narusasu, you better not make her snap unless she might stab everyone in school.

Kylie - Kylie is the gender-swapped version of Kylar, and boy she is a HUGE bimbo, she plays for the softball team and she loves to brag about all the boys she hooks up with (which is 0) she is way more crazy and homophobic than Kylar, yelling gay slurs and she gets angry more easily too, she hits on Nick and Jackuh alot and they always bully her as a response, she also has insane sexual fantasies.

Krispina - Krispina is the gender-swapped version of Crispin, she is a huge pick me girl, bragging about how she's unique because she's a "chill hipster" and not a preppy popular girl, she likes to talk to the boys like Nick and Jackuh about random things to try to connect with them only for them to not really care.

Aaron - Aaron is the gender-swapped version of Ari, while Ari is of course a lesbian, he is a gay guy, and mostly closeted at that, He has a crush on Nick, and Nick clearly doesn't really care that much and finds Aaron annoying, Aaron can be shy, but he can be cocky and brash sometimes, like when he had a fight with Kellan, he also works part time at Papa John's

Kellan - Kellan is the gender-swapped version of Kelly, He is a popular jock boy who is quite popular with girls, he is in the Sex Addiction Rehab Program and tries to turn to the lord to rebuke this like Kelly, He is quite a friendly and outgoing guy, but Nick and Jackuh think of him as a "douchebag" because of how he acts around women, He also works part time at a Blockbuster

Morgan - Morgan is the gender-swapped version of Megan, He is a very controlling guy and enjoys theater, he has a close relationship with Jesus and likes going to church, he is Heather's boyfriend, but their relationship is quite toxic...

Heather - Heather is the gender-swapped version of Hunter, She is a chill but sometimes edgy girl, she has a relationship with Jesus and is Morgan's girlfriend, but despite that, Morgan is very controlling of her making her feel like he doesn't love her, which is why she starts cheating on Morgan with Nick, only for Nick to exploit her to the whole school and show everyone naked pics she sent him

Nerdy Sister - Nerdy Sister is the gender-swapped version of Gamer Brother, she is very different from Gamer Brother, she plays a lot of "nerdy" games like Pokemon and Kingdom Hearts, and "childish games like "Club Penguin" and "Animal Crossing" she also likes watching a lot of shows popular with quirky internet users in the 2000's like "Happy Tree Friends" and "Invader Zim" she is also as problematic as gamer brother, as she grooms underage kids on MySpace and Club Penguin, hell she even got arrested one time for dating an 8 year old online on said game! She is also as brash as Gamer Brother, like Nick will take a peak in her room and she will throw food at him and yell, Nerdy Sister is so different from Gamer Brother because Gamer Brother is so based on a male stereotype, I basically had to make my own character gender swapping him with femcel stereotypes XD

And that's all folks!!

I haven't covered Karen, Trody, Braxton Kyle, and the adult characters' genderswaps because honestly they wouldn't be very different from their original counterparts

I hope you enjoyed these depictions

#class of 09 #class of 09 au #class of 09 genderswap #nicole class of 09 #jecka class of 09 #jeffery class of 09 #kylar class of 09 #genderswap au

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multi-lefaiye · 5 months ago

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GLOMP!

Poke poke!

Please and thank you!

HELLO responding to this late! i was typing up a response during work yesterday, then i got busy :'> alas. but i digress, now it is pavel time.

tagging @void-botanist and @invaderskoodge bc y'all also showed interest :3 and i'm gonna tag @vacantgodling purely bc i think you might like this disaster fella at least a little

pavel is the main character of a wip i go back and forth on quite a bit, going back and changing the worldbuilding over and over lol. it's called 'wild animals,' with the longer working title being 'wild animals: or, who killed wanda bright?' (i'm working on it) it's a murder mystery, with anthros :v

pavel is an extremely burned out social outcast in his late 20s, who's been through A Lot and fucking hates himself and his life for the most part, but doesn't have much in the way of means or motivation to change it in any way. to him, it just... is what it is. he floats through life, not making much of an impression and just... kinda letting things happen.

until one night, when he goes to a party at the behest of his best (and perhaps only) friend, meets a girl named wanda and seems to hit it off with her, and then blacks out for several hours. when he comes to, he's shirtless on a cold bathroom floor with blood on his hands and staining his fur.

and before he knows it, he's being accused of wanda's murder... unless he can figure out what happened and prove his innocence, he is almost certainly fucked.

i really enjoy the trope of taking animal/anthro characters and using them as commentary on The Human Condition, and that's what this ended up being. and pavel is an example of another trope i like, a character finding their own agency and what it means to make your own choices. a little differently than ways i've tackled it before, but a way that does resonate with me personally lol.

he's also a fucking cat. originally i imagined him as a housecat, but lately i've been really digging the idea of changing his species and making him a cheetah instead. specifically a king cheetah :3 that feels right.

heeere's some old art i did of pavel and wanda back in 2023! feat lyrics from where did the party go by fall out boy, a song that vibes a lot with this story.

also i mentioned i keep changing the worldbuilding for 'wild animals', and tbh. that's mainly because i have a very hard time deciding whether or not humans should also exist here, or if it should just be anthros. i like both ideas, so i can never settle on one lol. but either way, pavel is kitty boy.

anyway, here's an excerpt from an older version of 'wild animals' that has one of pavel's most iconic moments:

Pavel doesn’t remember all of the details, only that another cat leaving the bar had shoved him not-so-gently out of the way as they stalked past him. Reflexively, he hissed at them and shoved back, and before he knew it the other feline had whipped around and slugged him hard in the face.

The punch hurt like a son of a bitch, and it had Pavel stumbling backward and clutching his face. He was too stunned to react, and he heard the other cat laughing and jeering at him.

“Stay outta my way, you fuckin’ pussy,” the other cat slurred. Pavel was going to point out to him that, technically, they were both pussies, but his drunken brain couldn’t quite find the words.

and then a moment with him and wanda during their first meeting:

“You don’t drink?” Pavel asks, nodding to her. The rabbit snorts, shooting him a wry look around the rim of her coffee cup.

“Beer tastes like piss,” she explains with a shrug. “I have better things to do than chug piss while pretending I'm actually having fun.” Despite the tension still coursing through Pavel’s shoulders and the trembling in his hands, he laughs.

The sound is a lot more brittle than he hoped it'd be. She doesn’t call him on it.

He appreciates that.

“So you’re just here to sit on the fire escape and drink coffee while thinking about how much better you are than everyone else here?” He smirks and she rolls her eyes. Pavel nudges her with his elbow. “Why even come, then?”

“I don’t see you drinking either,” she points out instead of answering his question, narrowing her eyes in distaste as she leans away from him. “Or schmoozing.”

“Beer does taste like piss,” he agrees. “And, for your information, the people here love me.” Something flashes in the rabbit’s deep blue eyes and she sneers at him.

“Good for you,” she says. She takes a sip from her coffee cup. “Why don’t you go talk to them, then, and leave me here to wallow? Be a gentleman and respect a lady’s privacy.”

#long post #talk to the bunnykitty #watermeezer #wild animals wip #pavel roswell #he needs a new name tbh #multi's writing #multi's artwork #undescribed images cw #also pavel has a brother named dante! they have a lot of interesting conflict imo #dante the golden child who went to serve in the military and has a successful career as a soldier vs pavel #who's mostly just trying his best and whose parents mostly just ignore him

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conclaveconfessions · 9 hours ago

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another person responding to the f slur anon. i think some people are maybe a little flippant with it but lets be real everyone here is gay. i think its reasonable that it might make you uncomfortable! but like someone else said lets acknowledge that the catholic church is one of the most homophobic institutions on earth. the priests/clergy are all gay and self hating, especially. guys like tedesco most of all of course. and to me, at least, it's very hard to write a realistic version of the characters that doesn't include usage of slurs, or at least some sort of more 'minor' homophobia. i think if you elide all macro/microaggressions towards gay people it becomes a different setting entirely

#conclave confessions #conclave #discourse

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pixel7777 · 4 months ago

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The First Worshipper: Ch. 12

The naughty version of the beautiful artwork commissioned from the incredible misfitlunatic (https://x.com/misfit_lunatik or https://bsky.app/profile/misfitlunatik.bsky.social) can be seen in all its glory here.

If you want to read from the beginning, searching my blog for #myfic will bring up all my fanfic posts. Link for Chapter 1. Link for art discussion post.

Read this chapter below the break here or on AO3!

156 years AB

I slouched deeper into my favorite chair, watching the flames dance in the hearth. The empty bottles scattered around us told quite the tale—though not as impressive as the one Wyll was currently slurring through for the fourth time tonight.

"And where was he? WHERE. WAS. HE?" Wyll's dark skin had taken on a deeper flush from the wine. "Half the bloody Sword Coast showed up! People who'd never even met her! But our friend? Our divine friend?"

"Probably arranging stars into pretty patterns." I took another swig straight from the bottle. "Or whatever it is gods do when they're not disappointing their friends."

In the corner, Halsin let out a particularly loud snore. Amateur.

"You know what?" Wyll jabbed a finger in my direction, nearly toppling over. "You should pray to him right now. Tell him what we think of his... his... godly priorities."

"Oh, I like that idea." I straightened up, clearing my throat. "Oh most exalted Gale, Lord of Ambitious Absences, Master of Missing Important Moments—"

"Herald of Half-Arsed Excuses!" Wyll contributed with a wild gesture that sent wine sloshing over his hand.

"—we, your most faithful and thoroughly drunk followers, wish to lodge a formal complaint about your recent failure to attend the funeral of one Shadowheart, who, might I remind you, saved your life more times than your godly memory apparently cares to recall."

"Remember that time in the Underdark?" Wyll interrupted. "When she pulled him out of that puddle of myconid spores?"

"Or when she talked down that mob of Sharran fanatics who wanted to gut him for his orb?"

We both dissolved into laughter, though it held a bitter edge.

"To Shadowheart," Wyll raised his bottle. "Who deserved better than an absent god at her funeral."

"To Shadowheart," I echoed. "Who would have told us both to shut up and stop whining by now."

"She would've," Wyll grinned. "Right after joining in for at least an hour first."

Another snore from Halsin made us both jump, then laugh again.

"Maybe we should draw on his face," I suggested. "For old times' sake."

"Shadowheart would approve," Wyll nodded sagely, already fumbling on my desk for a quill.

I took another long drink, letting the wine wash away the tightness in my throat. Wyll's righteous indignation was oddly comforting—his anger standing in for emotions I couldn't quite admit to myself.

Of course Gale hadn't come. Of course he'd chosen his divine destiny over attending one more mortal funeral. That's what we'd agreed on, wasn't it? Take time, figure things out, no pressure.

(I'd just assumed he'd figure out the right answer.) (And picking me is always right.)

The wine bottle trembled slightly in my hand. Stupid, really. All that divine potential, those cosmic responsibilities—what was I compared to that? What were any of us? Just mayflies, brief sparks in an eternal flame.

(But he could have been here. He could have chosen...)

"You alright?" Wyll's voice cut through my thoughts. I realized my cheeks were wet.

"Oh, you know." I gestured vaguely with the bottle. "Just thinking about her. How she'd hate all this maudlin nonsense."

Wyll's face softened with sympathy—the wrong kind, for the wrong person. "She would. Remember how she used to handle emotional moments? That awkward pat on the shoulder?"

I laughed, grateful for the excuse he'd handed me. "Like she was afraid feelings might be contagious."

"Come here, you drunken mess." Wyll pulled me into a clumsy hug. "She knew how much you cared. They all did."

I let my head rest against his shoulder, hiding my face. Let him think these tears were for Shadowheart. Let him comfort me for a loss I could admit to, rather than the one I couldn't bear to name.

I pulled away from Wyll's embrace, dabbing at my eyes with exaggerated dignity. "So, what's next for the illustrious Blade of Avernus? More devilish dealings?"

"Blade of Faerun now, actually." Wyll puffed up his chest, then immediately deflated as he lost his balance and had to grab the chair. "Not enough proper villains left around here. Had to expand my territory."

"How tragic for evil-doers everywhere."

"Speaking of evil-doers—" Wyll jabbed his finger at me again, nearly taking out an eye. "Found some bastards in Waterdeep laundering money through our precious god's temple."

I waved my hand dismissively. "Darling, that's hardly news. Religious institutions are perfect for moving money around. Why do you think I built so many of them?"

"But—"

"Besides, what's a little creative accounting between worshippers?" I took another swig. "At least they're putting some effort into their prayers."

Wyll squinted at me for a moment, then shrugged and turned his attention to Halsin's peaceful face. He fumbled with the quill he remembered he had been holding, tongue sticking out in concentration.

"Is that supposed to be a phallus?" I critiqued his wobbly artwork. "Because it looks more like a disappointed mushroom."

"Art critic now, are you?" Wyll paused in his masterpiece to look up at me. "What about you then? What's next for the High Priest of Ambitious Absences?"

I swirled the wine in my bottle, studying the way it caught the firelight. "I think I'll spend some time here in the Vale. Someone needs to keep an eye on our lightweight druid."

Halsin let out another impressive snore, his face now adorned with what I could only assume was meant to be a mustache. Wyll's artistic talents clearly hadn't improved over the centuries.

"Just you, me, and Halsin left now of the originals." I tipped my bottle toward Wyll. "Well, and our absent divine friend, but he's made his choice rather clear, hasn't he? After Halsin kicks, it will be just us two immortals bouncing around eternity."

"Three's better company than two," Wyll said, his expression softening as he looked at Halsin.

"Indeed. So I plan to enjoy our nature-loving friend while we have him. Maybe drag him into a few more adventures before he gets too old to keep up." I stretched, feeling the pleasant buzz of wine in my veins. "You're welcome to call on me if anything interesting comes up. And by interesting, I mean actually interesting. None of those tedious 'save the orphanage' missions you're so fond of."

"Orphanages need saving too," Wyll protested, but his grin betrayed him.

"I'll be splitting my time, though. Got something brewing in Baldur's Gate." I traced the rim of my bottle with one finger. "Still working out the details, but it'll keep me around. Unlike certain godly types who can't be bothered to show up for their friends' funerals."

"What kind of something?" Wyll leaned forward, nearly toppling out of his chair.

"The kind that needs more thought before I share it." I smirked. "But don't worry, you'll be the first to know. Well, second. After our sleeping beauty here gets the news."

"I'm starving," Wyll announced suddenly, patting his stomach. "Got anything to eat?"

I gestured vaguely toward the kitchen. "The ice box is full of casseroles. Apparently, the traditional response to death is to drown the bereaved in food they didn't ask for." I took another sip from my bottle. "Mind the blood jars when you look—I'd hate to explain to the concerned citizens of the Vale why their dishes come back covered in blood."

Wyll stumbled to his feet, using my chair for balance. "People keep bringing you food? Even though you can't eat it?"

"What am I supposed to say? 'Sorry, your thoughtful gesture is wasted on the vampire—would you care to offer your neck instead'? Besides, you and Halsin can benefit from their misplaced maternal instincts."

He returned triumphant with a ceramic dish. "This one's got mushrooms in it."

"Courtesy of the druid circle, no doubt. Here—" I cleared some space by the fire. "Should still be good enough to eat once it heats up."

Wyll settled the dish near the flames, then slumped back against my chair. Within minutes, his head had dropped onto my shoulder, soft snores joining Halsin's symphony.

"Absolutely pathetic," I muttered, though I didn't move away. "Some devil you turned out to be."

I reached for another bottle, having to stretch awkwardly to avoid disturbing Wyll. The wine was hitting harder now, making the room spin pleasantly. Before I could think better of it, I tilted my head back and whispered a prayer.

"Gale? Ignore those last twenty or so prayers. We're just... very drunk. And we miss you, you pompous, celestial fool." I paused, considering my words carefully. "I hope you're well up there with your stars and your... whatever it is you do. If you see Shadowheart on her way to Selune's realm, tell her we're sorry about defacing Halsin's face. Actually, don't tell her that—she'd only be disappointed she missed it. But perhaps you were right to stay away. If you’d come, I’d have wanted… no. Never mind. Just be well, Gale. And keep the stars bright for us."

Wyll mumbled something in his sleep and pressed his face deeper into my shoulder. I sighed, resigned to my fate as a pillow. A sad sack of a pillow.

I lifted my bottle one final time, the wine nearly gone. "To you, Shadowheart. Hope Selune's treating you better than Shar ever did." The words came out softer than intended, barely a whisper in the quiet room.

Wyll's weight grew heavier against my shoulder, his snores joining Halsin's in an off-key duet. The fire had died down to embers.

I shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position without disturbing Wyll. The wine had done its work well—my limbs felt pleasantly heavy, my thoughts growing fuzzy around the edges. Even the ever-present ache in my chest had dulled to something almost bearable.

"You'd laugh yourself sick if you could see us now," I murmured, eyes growing heavy. "The mighty heroes of Baldur's Gate, passed out like children after their first taste of wine. We barely made it through three days. Barely acceptable as a wake for the magnificent, unstoppable, surprising friend you were. But you'll forgive us our inadequacies—you always do."

The empty bottle slipped from my fingers, rolling across the floor with a quiet clink. I should pick it up. Should probably wake Wyll and send him to proper bed. Should...

But the fire was warm, and Wyll's steady breathing was oddly comforting. Just for a moment, I could pretend we were all back at camp, waiting for dawn to break. Waiting for another adventure. Waiting for...

My eyes drifted shut.

* * *

Gale stared at the scroll before him, the elegant script blurring as his thoughts wandered. Focus. The relationship between ambition and creativity is fundamental to understanding mortal progress. He tapped his fingers against the crystalline desk, the rhythm echoing through his private study.

But the words from this morning's divine council meeting kept intruding. Improper use of temple funds. Inappropriate conduct of clergy. Manipulation of noble houses. What absolute nonsense.

He swept the scroll aside with a burst of divine energy that sent it spinning across the room. As if Mask's temples don't actively encourage theft. As if Loviatar's faithful don't torture people for fun.

The real issue was painfully transparent. His followers' prayers carried power, and that power was no longer flowing to the established pantheon. They're just angry because mortals are choosing me over them.

A particularly potent prayer caught his attention - one of Astarion's faithful dramatically declaring their ambitions at the cathedral altar. The pure energy of it tingled through Gale's divine form, and he could practically hear the other gods grinding their teeth.

Oh, does it bother you that my high priest encourages people to admit what they truly want? That my followers aren't ashamed of their desires?

Gale paced the study, his form flickering between solid and ethereal as his anger grew. The complaints to Ao were nothing but political maneuvering, an attempt to restrict his influence while he was still finding his footing in the pantheon. Some of these gods demand human sacrifice, yet they dare question my church's financial practices?

Gale slumped in his chair, the celestial energy around him dulled and muted. The scroll detailing Ao's judgment lay crumpled at his feet, its golden script mocking him with each glance.

He'd presented a solid defense. Astarion had indeed founded the church without prompting, establishing rituals and ceremonies before Gale had even settled into his divine role. But his opponents came armed with meticulous records - every manifestation in the Copper Crown, each divine intervention in the Underdark, the boons granted during Wyll's rescue, and that night with Astarion in his apartment.

Ao's expression had held a flicker of understanding, but rules were rules. The other gods had built their case too well, presenting each transgression with damning precision. And, if Gale were honest about it, there were a lot of transgressions.

Now Gale sat in forced isolation, cut off from the material plane. He could still hear the prayers - Astarion's dramatic declarations, the faithful's whispered ambitions, and most painfully, the mourners at Shadowheart's funeral. But he couldn't answer. Couldn't appear. Couldn't even send the smallest sign of his presence.

He sensed Astarion at the funeral, felt his friend's bitter disappointment at his absence. But how could he explain? That he'd been reduced to a passive observer, bound by divine restrictions, forced to watch another companion's farewell from afar?

The prayers from the funeral washed over him - memories of Shadowheart's courage, her growth, her quiet strength. Each one struck like a physical blow, knowing he couldn't honor her properly, couldn't comfort those who remained.

"Just until you learn proper divine distance," Ao had said, as if centuries of friendship could be measured against divine protocol.

The hypocrisy of it all made him crackle with barely contained fury. He'd fought too hard, sacrificed too much to let ancient gods with their outdated traditions dictate how he should guide his followers. They're just afraid because I understand mortals better than they do. Because I remember what it means to want things.

A surge of prayers washed over him - ambitious merchants, dreaming artists, determined scholars. Each one a direct challenge to the old order, each one proof that his path was right. Let them complain. Let them whine to Ao. My followers chose me because I offer something real.

Gale traced the memory of Astarion's cold fingers against his skin, remembering how his friend had propped himself up on one elbow, silver curls falling forward charmingly across his brow as he spoke. "Maybe godhood isn't what you thought it would be."

The words had stung, partly because they'd come right after such intimacy, but mostly because they'd hit too close to home. Gale had imagined libraries of infinite knowledge, the power to reshape reality, the ability to guide mortals toward greater achievements. Instead, he got endless meetings about proper prayer protocols and squabbles over temple donations.

But these petty restrictions from the other gods... they meant something important as well. They wouldn't work so hard to contain him if he wasn't changing things. Every prayer that reached him carried real desire, raw ambition untainted by religious dogma. His followers didn't bow their heads in fearful submission - they raised their faces and declared what they wanted from life.

Astarion's theatrical services drew nobles who'd never set foot in a temple before. Merchants whispered their dreams of empire between wine trades. Artists prayed for inspiration without shame. Each prayer carried power, yes, but more importantly, it carried change.

He wasn't just another deity with a symbol and a temple tax. The old gods had their roles - war, death, nature, love - all neatly boxed and regulated. But ambition? That touched everything. Every prayer that reached him challenged the established order, pushed against comfortable boundaries.

If he could endure these restrictions, if he could learn to play the game more carefully... He had centuries, millennia even, to reshape how mortals approached the divine. He just needed to be smarter about it. Less direct intervention, more subtle influence… at least until he had passed his probationary period and Ao let him off his leash. Until then, let his followers do what they did best - push boundaries while technically following the rules.

The price was steep - watching friends die without comfort, unable to answer genuine prayers for help. But perhaps that was part of it too. The other gods had forgotten what loss felt like, what it meant to want something badly enough to risk everything for it.

Gale traced his fingers along the edge of his desk, the sensation both there and not there - like everything in this realm. The memory of Astarion's cool skin against his own felt more real than any of this divine architecture he'd crafted.

That night in the apartment still burned bright in his mind. Astarion had seen right through him, past the divine presence to the uncertainty beneath. "Playing at being a proper god, are we?" he'd asked, those red eyes catching the lamplight. "When has propriety ever suited you? You, my darling Gale, were always at your best when you let your wild heart run amok and damn the consequences."

He remembered how Astarion's fingers had traced the lines of his face that night, as if memorizing him. "You've always wanted too much," Astarion had said. "It's what I like about you."

Gale's divine essence flickered with the memory. Astarion had understood something Gale was only now beginning to grasp - that his ambition wasn't just about power or knowledge. It was about change, about making things better, about never accepting arbitrary limitations, about pursuing life and its desires with everything one had at their disposal.

But what did he truly want? To reshape the pantheon? To walk among mortals again? To hold Astarion once more? The irony wasn't lost on him - the God of Ambition, uncertain of his own desires.

The weight of divine restrictions pressed against him like physical bonds. The other gods thought they could contain him, shape him into their idea of proper divinity. Perhaps they hadn't been paying proper attention.

Gale stood, his form solidifying with newfound resolve. He might not know exactly what he wanted, but he knew what he didn't want - to be another tame deity, bound by ancient traditions that served no purpose but maintaining the status quo.

They thought they'd won, but they didn't understand he hadn't even been playing the game. Good. If there was one thing his favorite rogue had taught him well, it was the value of surprise.

* * *

Gale adjusted his divine form and summoned parchment that shimmered with celestial light. After careful consideration, he directed his message to Shar, Goddess of Loss and Darkness:

Most Esteemed Lady of the Night,

I trust this message finds you well in your domain of shadows. Recent discussions among the pantheon regarding my... unconventional approach to worship have given me cause for deep reflection. Your wisdom in these matters has been particularly noted.

During my contemplation, I happened upon some fascinating historical records regarding the fall of Netheril. Among them, I discovered an intriguing account of certain artifacts being spirited away just before the city's collapse - artifacts that, by Ao's decree, should have been destroyed. The records suggest they found their way into a particular shadow realm.

I can only imagine the burden of responsibility you must feel, safeguarding such powerful items. After all, destroying them might have caused even greater catastrophe, mightn't it? Such difficult choices we gods must make, balancing our duties against practical necessities.

Your perspective on my own situation - managing an enthusiastic if somewhat theatrical priesthood - has surely been influenced by your own experiences with such delicate matters. Perhaps we might discuss both situations with Ao together? I would value your support in reviewing these restrictions on my interaction with the material plane, just as I'm certain you would appreciate discretion regarding those historical records.

I look forward to our next pantheon gathering, where we might explore these mutual interests more fully.

With deepest respect,

Gale

God of Ambition

P.S. Those artifacts truly are remarkable. The way they bend shadow and reality... quite something. One might even say divine.

He sealed the letter with a flash of power, letting a trace of his knowledge of the true history of the Crown of Karsus leak through - just enough to remind Shar that he knew she shared a bit of the blame for what he had become in the first place.

As Gale sent handed the letter to a divine messenger, Astarion’s voice lingered in Gale’s mind—the raw longing and understanding he offered even when he thought Gale had abandoned him. Perhaps this was why the other gods feared Gale. Not because he broke their rules or stole their prayers, but because he remembered why mortals prayed in the first place.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #gale of Waterdeep #bloodweave #myfic

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turtlemagnum · 1 year ago

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i think my first exposure to AI art might've been this video where somebody was testing out this new, weird thing where they automatically generate a song using AI, and i couldnt help but feel that it was an indictment of the modern music scene that a goddamn computer could effortlessly and accurately replicate the generic swill that passes for popular music nowadays. didnt have a vocalist synthesized yet but those have been becoming a thing too, or so i hear.

i saw a little article about how the newer generations of gamers are turning more and more to retro games. as somebody technically belonging to the "newer generations" this felt self evident, as frankly most of the gaming i do nowadays is almost invariably in an emulator. i think that to a certain extent, most of the best mainstream games that are going to be made already have been, at least for the forseeable future of major developers with games made scientifically perfect for milking you for the most money possible rather than as an art form. im sure it's all gonna collapse in on itself eventually, from what i hear some of the older folks who lived through more than i have we've been here before. hell, pretty much anybody who cares even a bit about gaming history knows first and foremost about the gaming crash of the early 80s, mostly spurred on by the temporal equivalent of modern cheap asset flip garbage that floods most stores these days. it's hard not to feel like we're about to see a massive crash yet again, with the ones inheriting the earth being the little fellas, and of course nintendo. which, makes sense, their earliest history is of weathering shit just like this, of course they'd know when to spot enshittification and stay clear of it. i'm in no way saying that nintendo is exempt of being a shitty corporation, but i will say that from a business standpoint they're one of the only ones i know of that actually seem to understand the idea of sustainability on a broad scale. hell of a lot better than the likes of activision, thats for damn sure. but back to what i was actually trying to get at before i adhd tangent'd, i think it makes a lot of sense that when the majority of the shit being put on the market is corporatist, design by comittee, prefab trash with aggressive monetization and a consistent attitude of fixing any problems in patches, it makes a hell of a lot of sense that we'd go back to our roots. NES mario is the same as its ever been, has been for over 30 years, and will be in another 30. you dont gotta worry about them patching it to make it actually function as advertised, or patching it from being something you enjoyed into something you hate, or having fomo marketing based microtransaction bullshit. the most that's gonna change is that every now and again, nintendo will make the only version they give not have flashing lights for epileptic folks, or patch out mike tyson because he sucks and replace him with a white guy, and the white guy's less hard but thats ok because it's still pretty hard, and either way it's a good game, fun, and you can still find the original on rom sites and also probably ebay if you dont have a vpn but do have a disposable income, so dont worry about it. getting sidetracked again, ANYWAYS-

what i wanted to get at is that i wonder if we're gonna see a similar resurgence in other old kinds of media just like, in general, for the mainstream. like why watch the 22nd reboot of ghost busters when the originals are right there. king crimson's still good, why dont you listen to them instead of bemoaning how your new favs are problematic, even though i dont think fripp can reclaim the fag slur (im gay, i can it's fine). i've recently been watching fist of the north star and original dragon ball, ilike the m. there are books. lots of those, actually,. you can read em! if you have the attention span. i honestly think we might be seeing more and more of this, now that im looking out for it. like i see just like, random people mention how much they like prog rock or 1930s dracula. relatively normals talk about how they like lemon demon these days. those stupid aestheticized classic anime accounts on twitter get sososo many likes. can you tell im sleep deprived writing this? i can, and im writing thjis. im writing this SO HARD. send poast.

#turtle hall of fame

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gorogues · 2 years ago

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tricksterrune replied to your text post: Clearly he has a pair of dice in his fist, ready to fling them dramatically at the right opportunity

Oh yes, clearly!

aukisstic replied to your ask post: THANK YOU I hate the pride special so much…

Yeah, I just did not think that story was good at all.

demonbirdsforever replied to your ask post: See this is where I go… they were in other comics!? I missed those!🥺

The Rogues are in tons of issues (cumulatively), but not all those stories are great :>

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Not to be weird or anything but rn I actually feel like for Captain Boomerang, Knight Terrors Robin #1 or Suicide Squad Blaze as a whole are the worse than Suicide Squad v4

You're not being weird at all, but neither of those are canon. If I'd included non-canon stuff the list would have been really different lol, but in hindsight I should have made that clear.

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Cuz Suicide Squad Blaze treated him like he was nothing more than a joke (and called him Captain Cultural Appropriation, which if we take Suicide Squad v4 #26 into account, where his mother is aboriginal, it feels like the writers just don’t know him), killed him off revealed that he was actually assaulted by whatever monster he was fighting and then killed him off for real.

Believe me, I agree that story was terrible :] It just didn't make the list because thankfully it's an AU.

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: And then in Knight Terrors: Robin #1 like… I understand it’s supposed to be from Tim Drake’s perspective, but it really paints Captain Boomerang in a really bad light. Like he killed Jack Drake on purpose. When he didn’t even throw the boomerang until he was collapsing from 3 gunshot wounds to the chest.

Well, Digger did go there to kill Jack, but Identity Crisis was a terrible story anyway. I should have included it in my worst Digger stories list, and am not sure how I forgot. I'll add it with a note that it's a late addition.

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Like… The beginning of Suicide Squad v4, yeah, I agree, they fucked over Digger big time, but at least it got better at the end, despite issue #26 also calling him Owen instead.

It's of course a very subjective matter (all best/worst lists are), but I just thought those comics were straight up edgy and terrible. I've never liked any Adam Glass or Ales Kot comics.

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Suicide Squad v1 was also Not Great™ as a whole due to the use of slurs for aboriginal people within it. Issue 4 was the worst of those where on top of using a slur for an aboriginal person to a black man, he also said black people can’t be artists and tried agree with a Nazi and made the super racist statement that minorities commit the most petty crimes.

This is also subjective, and I get where you're coming from but I don't think they're bad comics. It's fine if you don't like it -- a lot of people don't like what was done with Digger in that series, and that's valid -- but I think it's a good series. It hasn't always aged well, but it's the reason the Suicide Squad concept exists to this day. The racism is tough to read, but Ostrander was making a point about the garbage Waller, Bronze Tiger, and Vixen have to fight through to do their jobs and just exist as Black people. It does suck for Rogue fans that Digger was chosen to be the problematic mouthpiece, though, so I understand why some people don't like it. I agree it was a very drastic swing from his pre-Crisis characterization, so I don't love that aspect either.

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Sorry, I have many thoughts on the true worst Captain Boomerang comic.

That's fine! :)

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Also for Owen I’d argue for the Supergirl v5 comics. Cuz apparently that version of Supergirl that he’s not only rooming with, but is also trying to get with is 16. And he’s like… Literally an adult man. He literally called that version of Supergirl “jailbait” in one of the better comics of the bunch.

Yeah, I have mixed feelings on that series. It wasn't good, but unfortunately I think a lot of Owen's stories weren't great so to me it doesn't necessarily stand out. He's a good character who's been in a lot of mediocre stories…in part because a lot of DC's output was mediocre around that time.

demonbirdsforever replied to your text post: I read the Catwoman issues you recommended and now understand the kiss.

Hope you enjoyed it!

#tricksterrune #aukisstic #demonbirdsforever #it is i zim #it-is-i-zim #words

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shruhkstreams · 2 years ago

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(OOC) ASK GUIDE

[Donate Bits] is the ask button! And here's a little guide on what to ask, what's off limits and other things This is all mostly framed in Twitch streams! So get creative with your ask messages!

What's Allowed

Risqué/NSFW questions (As a reminder this IS an AU of a show with a demographic targeted towards minors, so PLEASE keep them at most to a minimum. Even with the main cast sans Blythe and classmates being adults who do Adult Things, I do not want to contribute to exposing minors to questionable content)

Any asks regarding personal aspects about the askees (relationship stuff, personal anecdotes, anything about past events that happened before the events of the askblog, etc)

What's Not Allowed

Anything implying roleplay! This is mostly an interactive story, not to mention from a somewhat parasocial relationship between Viewer (asker) and Content Creator (person being asked), so, try to keep this set within the idea of a livesteam (with some exceptions of course)

Any hate speech or discourse asks. Like. C'mon this an LPS AU Askblog, be realistic. (My stance is TERFS fuck off, all queer identities are valid identities, and queer slurs are tight as hell. Also endos and proship DNI)

4th wall breaks (if you MUST ask something 4th wall breaking, I guess go ahead but keep it to a minimum if not at all.)

FAQ

"Can I kin [x]"

No. While these are just altered versions of canon characters, they still are different enough for me to consider them original characters, not to mention, as a system, most if not all of them are alters within the system and therefore, too real to me to be treated as a kin object.

"Can I self insert/have [x] be an F/O?"

Same as before, no. Again, system members who are too important to me to want to have someone they don't know date a personal depiction of them, if not them entirely.

"Can I use your art as an icon?"

Sure, I don't mind! Just be sure to credit either this account or my main art account @/dreamscape-popstar

"What is the posting schedule?"

Despite being a plural with people literally living in the brain, we are bodily still one person so the schedule will be when we have the energy to answer asks. The fatigue is chronic so, just be patient with us.

"Can I make fanart?"

Yes!! I think fanart would be lovely! As long as you aren't drawing anything heinous like proship shit or erasing ethnic features. And be sure to tag me

This will be updated as we go along so, keep your eyes peeled for that. If you have anything to ask about the AU or characters, mark it with an OOC beforehand, but don't be too generous with your asks because somethings will be answered as the askblog progresses.

#pinned post

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daydreaming-memories · 1 year ago

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¹Number 1🌟 •What do you usually do while you daydream? Pace, stay still, stim, etc?

Pacing to music

№²Number 2🫒 •How real do you feel your paras are? Do you worry about them and feel like they exist beyond you, or do you view them purely as characters? Does it vary between paracosms?

It vary paras to paras and paracosm to paracosm, because like some paras later became alters LOL

№³Number 3🗂️ •Do you usually have paraselves or just generic paras as your parame?

More so generic paras as parame, but like usually take like a 3rd person view of events, like a ghost interacting with a story?? where you can view anything at once quickly, but like sometimes I'd view things as said para

but there are paraselves LOL

№⁴Number 4📑 •Do you have any paraselves that aren't the parame?

YEah! poly gang! But like there's more specifically honeydrop and allie!

they are fucking disasters do not trust them.

№⁵Number 5📊 •Do any of your paracosms not have a parame?

(a parame is the pov character of a paracosm, and a paraself is a version of you within the paracosm)

UHHH really only the less defined paracosms, but the currently circling ones do.

№⁶Number 6🕳️ •How comfortable are you talking about your paracosms and sharing them with other people?

High number = Easier to talk about/more comfortable

Lower = harder/less comfortable

Daycosm 3 - Fluxates, around 6 rn?

It's hard to talk about it right now because like there are alot of elements getting rewritten. As like alot of personal trauma and our experiences have bleed into this, along with having to rewrite alot of old lore that included alot of factparas of abusers.

Into the flip pit - 8-7? (LOL HAD TO)

this is Ribs, Blaze and Conner's paracosm though of course Jack kennedy and Dave miller help as well.

Scorned revenrancve AVA - 1

It would be a 7 because drake loves talking about it, but there's a common HC that's become essentially canon for most people for the source that drake hates.

so he just doesn't feel comfortable sharing with others outside the system

Fallen hearts - -1

this is literally a paracosm that is very much based on exomemories of alters in the system, so this shit is low in being comfortable talking about it rn

Especially because certain alters who have para-ified versions in this are on the "sexypedia" and like people have acted absolutely horrible to said alters.

Daycosm aus- 2-5

Alot of these aus are more

№⁷Number 7🦝 •How many paracosms do you have? Either the amount you're actively engaging with or the amount you've had across your entire life!

Currently Active:

~15?

we have daycosm 3, into the flip pit, Scorned revenrancve AVA, fallen hearts and like 11 aus for daycosm 3

Total: 150+, there's a ton of minor ones

№⁸Number 8🎠 •Do you think what happens in your paracosms says something about your mental state?

LOL yes. that's like all I feel like stating.

№⁹Number 9🪨 •How much does your daydreaming afffect your ability to connect with other people, and vice versa?

Intensely with both, let's not get into this further.

№¹⁰Number 10🐡 •How much are you consciously in control of your paracosms/paras vs unconciously?

Not consciously the most in control of paras, ESP daycosm 3. Daycosm 3's paras call me slurs.

№¹¹Number 11🏖️ •What do you imagine a 'normal' person's daydreams to be like?

UHHH a normal person probably wouldn't be as dark as this system's LOL

№¹²Number 12🕯️ •How visual are your daydreams?

Depends on health, and how deep in the daydream. But in good health it can be super detailed.

№¹³Number 13🧊 •Do you prefer to focus on interactions between paras or central narrative threads?

Honestly it's really dependedent on my mood, if I feel shitty then yea I do interactions with paras which usually mimick what I'm dealing with, when I'm doing good it's the centeral narrative threads.

№¹⁴Number 14🪜 •Do you have any pararcosms with no paras (focused on the world)?

Not currently, alot of the older ones got merged into daycosm 3.

№¹⁵Number 15🧣 •Do you have any spiritual beliefs regarding your paracosms?

GOD THE SCARF EMOJI IS HILARIOUS, but yeah I do have some beliefs regarded or effected by my paracosms.

But genuinely I don't like talking about any spiritual beliefs in detail that often, because like.. well I got religious trauma, and was in an IRL cult for a bit of time as a kid.

№¹⁶Number 16🦪 •How disconnected are you usually from reality when you daydream? (i.e. being totally unaware of what's happening in the real world, versus actively using real world stimulus to inform the contents of the daydream)

Depends on alot of factors, and it's like a pendulum swaying.

So I say like middle road of the two extremes ig???

№¹⁷Number 17🎀 •What's a paracosm you've built for a long time or something about it?

Daycosm 3, well That's not actually it's name Currently. But I am not retagging and rewriting things right now. It's been the main paracosm for like over a decade now, the original character being Allie.

№¹⁸Number 18🦖 •If you're a system, do you have any paratives, and do they have exomemories?

LOL YEA WE got paratives, and they do have exomemories. There's literally an allie parative who likes to front while we work or daydream abt daycosm.

№¹⁹Number 19🏵️ •How long does your daydreaming usually last for unbroken?

4 hours.

№²⁰Number 20🏡 •Do you view your daydreaming as positive or negative, ignoring others' opinions?

It's mixed, like it's positive and negative. It's heaven and hell. It's both at once.

№²¹Number 21🧺 •How do you feel when something prevents you from daydreaming, especially if it's for a long time?

PAIN.

№²²Number 22✴️ •Do you tend to daydream casually or treat it as a dedicated part of your day?

I treat it like "something I have to do everyday like drinking water"

№²³Number 23🧃 •Does tiredness or exhaustion affect the way you daydream?

YES, im so tired writing this but yes.

№²⁴Number 24🪞 •Is there anything you think people frequently misunderstand about your daydreaming or immersive and maladaptive daydreaming in general?

People are so confused about the difference about paratives vs verits vs paras vs sonas vs ocs for us. And it's so fucking hard to explain lol.

№²⁵Number 25🚜 •Do you call your paras ocs, or does that term feel wrong? Does it depend on the para?

It depends on the para, but generally yea I call them para and oc interchangibly. Because like the paratives or system member inserts are like more typically called alters, some jokingly say Exoparatone like a mix of exomemory, para, parative, and tone, making the end also like paratone.

№²⁶Number 26🎣 •How has your daydreaming changed over the years?

ya, it's gotten a lot less maladaptive.

№²⁷Number 27🧥 •Is there anything you refuse to ever put in a paracosm? Why?

Certain specific traumas and certain types of abuse, I'm not going into any further detail.

№²⁸Number 28🦦 •What's your view on the community? Do you wish you knew more maladaptive/immersive daydreamers than you do currently?

We kind of stand on the edge of the community as like being a system, maladaptive daydreamer and some other disorders make interacting with other people just exhausting. Like we do enjoy talking with others in the community, we're just so tired.

№²⁹Number 29🚪 •If you have other neurodivergencies, how do they interact with your daydreaming?

It's hard to explain, but like OCD + Autism add alot of patterning, it's partially why the whole time loop thing came to be.

There's probably more im just TIRED

№³⁰Number 30🛋️ •How do you feel if you forget parts of a paracosm?

terrible! next question.

№³¹Number 31🖨️ •How strongly do you think morals should be enforced when making paracosms?

Genuinely I don't care what people have in their paracosms, but certain things will get me to block if they are a repeated topic.

№³²Number 32🧮 •If you're an immersive daydreamer, how well do you feel you understand maladaptive daydreaming, and vice versa?

I feel we have a good understanding of both sides as like our daydreaming has swung between both. Though right now is more close to immersive daydreaming than maladaptive.

№³³Number 33📢 •What changes how often you daydream and does it make you daydream more or less?

Energy levels and how long we can walk. If we get really sick and congested we really can't

№³⁴Number 34🪵 •How much do you project onto your paras?

High, next question.

№³⁵Number 35🌡️ •Are there any trends in the paracosms you make?

Yes! Some intentionally, most accidental bullshit that I connected together with twine.

№³⁶Number 36🪢 •What's one of your favorite parts of your paracosms?

the

№³⁷Number 37🌽 •If you have paracosms based on or about pre-existing media, what media?

Gonna mention pre-existing media that's paracosms are inactive, but I want to note to not judge us for these alot of them are interests we got into due to people who literally abused us.

Hazbin hotel/Helluva boss, Cookie run, Lego movie, Cookie run ovenbreak/kingdom/wars, animation vs animator/minecraft, dayshift at freddy's, five nights at freddy's, pokemon, uhhhh Ik we're blanking on a ton we're just tired.

№³⁸Number 38🏛️ •What was your first paracosm (that you remember)?

It was minecosm, it's been on the backburner of paracosms to try to bring back just it's got alot more baggage than daycosm 3.

№³⁹Number 39🤺 •What is your most recently created paracosm?

into the flip pit, this fucker is insane and I love it. Very fnaf lore.

№⁴⁰Number 40🖍️ •What's a part of your worldbuilding for one of your paracosms that you're really proud of? Geography, economy, religion, magic, science and technology?

I'm proud of a ton of the worldbuilding but right now, like the spectulative biology of objects and like object species.

Have a ton of lore for that, though gotta write a ton of it back down

№⁴¹Number 41🌐 •Do you enjoy listening to music while you daydream or do you find it distracting?

Yea I have to have music to really daydream, and like woo at the end.

Feel free to like ask about this stuff in more detail, like we're posting this and then going to bed so we have it at least posted

#daycosm 3

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perfectlyvalid49 · 1 year ago

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I appreciate the edit. I think it gets my point across, and I can’t really complain about you sending them to my reblog – I said what I said to hopefully help people understand, so it’s good if people see it. I’m always happy to answer questions as long as they’re in good faith, so I don’t mind people coming my way.

There’s a lot to say about antisemitism on the left, and I don’t really know how to condense it all down into something shorter than the length of a novel. It’s been a constant conversation going around jumblr for the last four months (a lot longer really, but as the antisemitsim intensified after 10/7, so did our discussion of it). And I know this post started as an, “oops, I messed up” post, and I don’t know what conversations you’ve already had that prompted this post, and I don’t want to beat you over the head with this stuff, as that’s not fun for anyone.

So I guess, here’s the shortest version (and it’s not short) of what a goy needs to know about antisemitism on the left that I can write. To keep it short(er), some of these are going to be VERY broad statements. I’m happy to follow up with more detail if you have questions. All instances of “you” in the list are the generic you, not any specific person.

Judaism is an old religion, and people have hated Jews for a long time – longer than Christianity has existed.

Christianity has a bunch of antisemitic teachings. A lot of these stem from the fact that for Christianity to be right about certain things, Jews *must* be wrong. Why are we wrong? Because we’re bad.

Also, early Christians allied with Rome for power and threw Jews under the bus as part of that deal.

Because of this, EVERY culture that has been significantly impacted by Christianity (and its offshoot, Islam) has a background level of antisemitism baked in. This includes atheists living in cultures heavily impacted by those religions, such as atheists living in Europe and any of its former colonies.

Because it’s everywhere, of course it will be present among leftists.

Leftists generally aren’t big on hating people for no reason.

But many of them are ok with hating people who are morally bad in some way.

So, you can’t hate people for race or religion, but you can hate “oppressors.”

To alleviate their cognitive dissonance at being antisemitic, they find a reason for Jews to be bad guys that are ok to hate.

Examples:

Rape is bad and wrong, but it’s ok that Jews were raped on 10/7 because they were oppressors who needed to be stopped.

People have a right to defend themselves (and nations have a right to defend their citizens) unless their Israeli because Israelis are colonizers.

Indigenous people have a right to their native land, unless their Jewish because then they’re lying about where they came from.

People will also hold Jews/Israel to different standards than they hold other people/nations to. As an example, when talking about Israel/Palestine, people will talk about the Nakba, where nearly a million Palestinians lost their homes and were ethnically cleansed from Israel, but no one talks about the approximately equivalent number of Jews that were ethnically cleansed from MENA countries in the years following Israel’s independence.

This is incredibly frustrating because a lot of Jewish teaching leads to left leaning Jews who are made to feel unwelcome due to their religion.

And when they point out antisemitism, they are shouted down or kicked out of leftist spaces.

In the last few months, this has come mostly in the form of calling Jews “Zionist,” “Zio” (a slur coined by David Duke (yes, that David Duke)), or “Zionazi” (any conflation of Jews and Nazis is antisemitic. Don’t…just don’t fucking do that guys).

Zionism is a Jewish movement with many branches. At its most basic, it is simply the belief that Jews have a right to their own state, and somewhere between 80 and 90% of Jews identify with Zionism in some form. If you hate Zionists but not Jews, you basically just hate Jews

If you object to there being a Jewish ethnostate, but you don’t object to Ireland (Irish ethnostate), Germany (German ethnostate), Lebanon (Arab ethnostate), Syria (Arab ethnostate), Jordan (Arab ethnostate), Egypt (Arab ethnostate), etc., then it isn’t the ethnostate part you have an issue with, it’s the Jewish part.

A lot of the left’s arguments against the Jews/Israel fall apart when this metric is applied. They either don’t object to the behavior unless it’s done by Jews, or they object, but object much more strongly when Jews do it. There are at least half a dozen major ongoing genocides right now. Most people angry about Palestine couldn’t name three if I gave them a million dollars.

Many Jews want to be allies to left leaning causes, or should be welcomed into leftist communities, but they can’t because Jews aren’t welcome. See my earlier post about the Dyke March for an example. I saw one person put it simply: “I can only be Jewish and Queer in Jewish spaces, because in Queer spaces I need to stop being Jewish.”

Basically I think your original post actually covers a lot of the actions that non-Jews should take pretty well, I’m just trying to add some understanding of some of the talking points I see coming from the left and how a lot of Jews feel about them. I guess I’d also throw out that Jews often disagree with each other (two Jews, three opinions is a thing for a reason), so you may wind up getting different takes from different Jews. I would urge people to err on the side of caution and if one Jew says “that’s antisemitic” then I just wouldn’t do it even if another says it’s ok. Especially because I’ve seen a fair number of people claim to be Jewish or “of a Jewish background” and then turn around and say stuff that a Jew just wouldn’t say, like “this person won’t be going to heaven” or stuff like that. Also JVP isn’t Jewish, they’re just pretending to be. That’s a whole thing I’m not going to get into, but just know that they’re not.

The easy rule I tell people to use is swap in a different minority identity for “Jew” or “Zionist” and if it doesn’t sound OK, that’s a belief you should maybe question. Like, if you wouldn’t say, “I wish Hitler had finished killing all the queer people,” then you shouldn’t say, “I wish Hitler had finished killing all the Jewish people.”

I hope this makes sense. It’s late and I need to go to bed, but like I said, I’m happy to answer any questions. But, tomorrow. Right now I need sleep.

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that.

Over the last few days, I’ve had conversations with several Jewish people who told me how hurt and scared they are right now.

To my great regret, some of that pain came from a poorly-thought-out post of mine, which – while not ill-intentioned – WAS hurtful.

And a lot of it came from cruelty they’d experienced at the hands of people who claim to be advocating for Palestine, but are using the very real plight of innocent Palestinians to harm equally innocent Jewish people.

Y’all, we need to do better. (Yes, “we” definitely includes me; this is in no small part a “learn from my fail” post, and also a “making amends” post. Some of these are mistakes I’ve made in the past.)

So if you’re an advocate for Palestine who wants to make sure that your defense of one group of vulnerable people doesn’t harm another, here are some important things to do or keep in mind:

Ask yourself if you’re applying a standard to one group that you aren’t applying to another.

Would you want all white Americans or Canadians to be expelled from America or Canada?

Do you want all Jewish people to be expelled from Israel, as opposed to finding a way to live alongside Palestinian Arabs in peace?

If the answer to those two questions is different, ask yourself WHY.

Do you want to be held responsible for the actions of your nation’s army or government? No? Then don’t hold innocent Jewish people responsible for the actions of the Israeli army and government.

On that subject, be wary of condemning all Israeli people for the actions of the IDF. Large-scale tactical decisions are made by the top brass. Service is compulsory, and very few can reasonably get out of service.

Blaming all Israelis for the military’s actions is like blaming all Vietnam vets for the horrors in Vietnam. They’re not calling the shots. They aren’t Nazis running concentration camps. They are carrying out military operations that SHOULD be criticized.

And do not compare them or ANY JEWISH PERSON to Nazis in general. It is Jewish cultural trauma and not outsiders’ to use against them.

Don’t infuse legitimate criticism with antisemitism.

By all means, spread the word about the crimes committed by the Israeli army and government, and the complicity of their allies. Criticize the people responsible for committing and enabling atrocities.

But if you imply that they’re committing those crimes because they’re Jewish, or because Jewish people have special privileges, then you’re straying into antisemitic territory.

Criticize the crime, not the group. If you believe that collective punishment is wrong, don’t do it yourself.

And do your best to use words that apply directly to the situation, rather than the historical terms for situations with similar features. For example, use “segregation,” “oppression,” or “subjugation,” not “Holocaust” or “Jim Crow.” These other historical events are not the cultural property of Jews OR Palestinians, but also have their own nuances and struggles and historical contexts.

Also, blaming other world events on Jewish people or making Jewish people associated with them (for instance, some people falsely blame Jewish people for the African slave trade) is a key feature of how antisemitism functions.

Please, by all means, be specific and detailed in your critiques. But keep them focused on the current political actors – not other peoples’ or nations’ political or cultural histories and traumas.

Be prepared to accept criticism.

You probably already know that society is infused with a wide array of bigotries, and that people growing up in that environment tend to absorb those beliefs without even realizing it. Antisemitism is no exception.

What that means is, there’s a very real chance that you will screw up, and get called out on it, as I so recently did.

If that happens, please be willing to learn and adapt. If you can educate yourself about the suffering and needs of Palestinians, you can do the same for Jewish people.

Understand that the people you hurt aren’t obligated to baby you. Give them room to be angry.

After I made a post that inadvertently hurt people, some were nice about it, and others weren’t. Some outright insulted my morals and intelligence.

And I had to accept that I’d earned that from them.

I’d hurt them, and they weren’t obligated to be more careful with my feelings than I had been with theirs.

They weren’t obligated to forgive me, trust me, or stop being mad at me right away.

I’ll admit, there were moments when I got defensive. I shouldn’t have. And I encourage you to try not to, if you screw up and hurt people.

I know that’s hard, but it’s important. Getting defensive only tells people you care more about doubling down on your mistake than you do about healing the hurt it caused.

Instead, acknowledge that they have a right to be angry, apologize for the way you hurt them, and try to make amends, while understanding that they don’t owe you trust or forgiveness.

Be aware that some antisemites are using legitimate complaints to “Trojan horse” antisemitism into leftist spaces.

This is a really easy stumbling block to trip over, because most people probably don’t look at every post a creator makes before sharing the one they’re looking at right now.

I recently shared a video that called out some of the Likud and IDF’s atrocities and hypocrisy, and that also noted that many Jewish people are wonderful members of their communities.

I was later informed that, while that video in particular seemed reasonable, the creator behind it is frequently antisemitic.

I deleted the post, and blocked the creator. I encourage you to do the same if it’s brought to your attention that you’ve been ‘Trojan horse’d.

Fact-check your doubts about antisemitism.

Depending on which parts of the internet you look at, you’ve probably seen people accused of antisemitism because they complained about the Likud and/or IDF’s actions. So you might be primed to be wary, or feel unsure of how to tell what counts as real antisemitism.

But that doesn’t mean antisemitism isn’t a very real, widespread, and harmful problem. And it doesn’t mean many or even most Jewish people are lying to you or being overly sensitive.

So if someone says something is antisemitic, and you aren’t sure, I encourage you to:

A. Look up the action or thing in question, including its history. Is there an antisemitic history or connotation you aren’t aware of? For best results, include “antisemitic” in your search query, in quotes.

B. Understand that some things, while not inherently antisemitic, have been used by antisemites often enough that Jewish people are understandably wary of them. Schrodinger’s antisemitism, if you will.

C. Ask Jewish people WHO HAVE OFFERED TO HELP EDUCATE YOU. Emphasis on WHO HAVE OFFERED. Random Jewish people aren’t obligated to give you their time and emotional energy, or to educate you – especially on subjects that are scary or painful for them.

@edenfenixblogs has kindly offered her inbox to those who are genuinely trying to learn and do better, and I’ve found her to be very kind, patient, reasonable, and fair-minded.

Understand that this is URGENTLY NEEDED.

In one of my conversations with a Jewish person who’d called me out, they said this was the most productive conversation they’d had with a person with a Palestinian flag in their profile.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

I didn’t do anything special. All I did was listen, apologize for my mistakes, and learn.

Yes, it feels good to be acknowledged. But I feel like I’ve been praised for peeing IN the toilet, instead of beside it.

Apologizing, learning, and making amends after you hurt people shouldn’t be “the most reasonable thing I’ve heard from a person with a Palestinian flag pfp.”

It should be BASIC DECENCY.

And the fact that it’s apparently so uncommon should tell you how much unnecessary stress and fear Jewish people have been living with because of people who consider themselves defenders of human rights.

By all means, be angry at the Likud, the IDF, and the politicians, reporters, and specific media outlets who choose to enable and cover up for them.

But direct that anger toward the people who deserve it and are in a position to do something about it, not random people who simply happen to be Jewish, or who don’t want millions of people to be turned into refugees when less violent methods of achieving freedom and rights for Palestinians are available.

Stop peeing beside the toilet, people.

#antisemitism #fuck this got long #I should have gone to bed an hour ago but I was having too much fun #mistakes were made and I will make them again

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