#not only naive but actively in bad faith

[mchiti]

at this point I truly wish for him to go Barca altho I don’t really like this “he’s offering himself” narrative lol 

[threepandas]

Bad End: Pray

Faith should not be transactional. Bartered to the highest bidder and sold as the winds shift. Bought with miracles and blessings. Heaped upon powerful champions and gifted at the sweet words of avatars. Perhaps it is old fashioned of me. Or maybe it is "naive" as I have often been accused.

To be honest, I am just not used to The Divine being so active.

Perhaps it is loyalty. Perhaps it is... faith. I do not know. But I can not imagine being swayed from the Goddess I serve. Not when... unlike BEFORE? I can... can actually FEEL Her presence.

I still laugh in disbelief sometimes. In AWE. Can you even IMAGINE? Sitting there, head bowed in prayer, in that quiet little temple of nowhere special, and... while expecting NOTHING? Feeling... feeling love. A gentle, all encompassing, hand that picks you up without moving you. Cradles your soul like a beloved child.

There aren't really words to explain what it feels like. It's somewhere between talking in circles, poetry, and gibberish. But BEAUTIFUL. So utterly, utterly beautiful. I can not comprehend why anyone would ever turn their back on her. Could EVER be bought with showy trinkets and bits of gold. Party tricks.

I am an outlier, in that regard.

Only myself and the Elders remain.

No one comes. Not to worship, not for blessings or wisdom. Not even to rest from the rain. Our humble temple more quiet then it has ever been. There was always SOMEONE. We are, after all, a temple too our Lady the Nox Viatoris. Keeper of those who travel at night, in places of peril, or should the worst occur... their soul's too safe resting. (Also, several small and fluffy nocturnal animals!)

"Night" was rather loosely defined, too. It honestly meant any place of low lighting. So a deep valley or cave worked too. Under belly of a city. Sewer system. We had smugglers, on occasion. They were generous. Honestly quiet devote. And as long as they didn't break the tenets of Our Lady's teachings? Well... what Oddly Weathy Worshiper with Working Knowledge Of Sewer Systems!

It was a well known joke. Everyone ignored them.

But one by one... they stopped coming.

The locals who's families had worshipped here for generations. The merchants who always came "just in case". The smugglers who "could use a bit of luck". Random travelers, guided by our Lady to a place of safety. I began to hear scoffs, as I went into town, from the younger generations. Get "concerned hints" from aunties and uncles I had know all my life.

Fellow priestess started too... drift away.

First seeming distracted, praying more, then praying less, going for longer and longer walks, their ceremonial robes getting increasingly half-hearted, then... after the final, damning stage of "staring off towards town a lot"? They would leave. Some with excuses. Others with vitriol. Our home colder and colder for each one gone.

The Elders heart's were breaking. They were watching the slow death of the only home they had ever known and could do nothing to stop it. The temple was dying. The children they had raised, the little ones who were all but grandchildren, abandoning them without second thought or simple discussion. For some whispered promise of foreign gods.

But I? I intend to stay, no matter what.

I who had been born to travels that did not want me, here in this temple that DID. Loved by these walls and this Lady. Who was given a second chance when my first ended so abruptly. Who would walk with Her one day. Proudly and with love. This was my home. Even if I had to take care of it by myself, I WOULD.

Things in town grew... vitriolic. Tense. Like a simmering heat had spread across the street where once, cool water flowed. It lurked beneath the surface. Volatile and burning, as bright colors seem to spread like sickness across the town. They felt... aggressive, somehow. Those colors. As though anyone NOT wearing them must answer for the crime of it.

I had them pushed upon me.

Again and again.

"It's cheerful!" "Look how bright and sunny they are!" "You'll look GREAT!"

I served a night goddess. The brightest color I was allowed to wear was off white to represent the moon and stars. Night blooming flowers if I could find them and justify it. It wasn't a matter of PREFERENCE. They KNEW this. I could NOT wear their gifts. Not the clothes. Not the jewelry. Not the decorations. None of it. Especially not with...suns... on it.

It was then I did more then just suspect. As I held the most recent gift, pushed upon me by well meaning friends. Struggling to remain patient. The sun sewn into the cheerfully dyed fabric MOCKED and sneered. Gaudy and ugly to my eyes. I turned, back to the temple, the rest of my shopping forgotten.

It could wait.

When I returned? I showed the Elders what I had been handed. Elder Antilla going so pale she nearly fainted. It was all that they had feared. At last, one of the major players had decided to swallow our tiny region whole. We were nothing but a small regional faith. Our Lady a weak but kind Divine in the grand scheme of things. She took care of us.

Could not offer us miracles and silks, honey and splendor. But she could love us. Protect our souls and guide us. The stronger Gods? Oh, they could offer SO MUCH more. Tempt and sway away Her faithful. Starve her into nothingness as they strip her of power. Consume her, as they had so many others before.

We had been safe.

Because we were far away and of little interest, tucked away between mountains that lead to nowhere of strategic worth. Few people to even convert. But seems... our time had run out. One of them had come for us. And oh... oh how EASY it had been for them to pour their power and wealth into swaying our faithful away. Buying their souls for a pittance of power and a laugh.

We had to sit down.

The mood grim.

The Elders would not live much longer, I knew. Perhaps that was why they were ignored. That, or the other God knew they could not sway them. They certainly would not sway me. I refused. Even if I had to worship alone. Became some cultist in the woods. I would NOT leave Her.

I prayed.

The silence felt deafening. But at least I was not alone. My Lady's arms held me close. As though trying to shield me from the world. Shaking, tears of grief that left no marks, dropping one after another upon my hair and skin. Suddenly the arms around me tightened in alarm. Pulled, as though commanding me to stand. To be ready to run. There was FEAR in that action.

I was on my feet at once. Turning towards the open air of the entrance.

Up the road, old and worn with the passing feet of countless travelers, came the crisp step of expensive boot leather. The rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, all of it, seemed to hush as the sound of footsteps got closer. As though nature itself was afraid to draw attention of whatever was coming.

It was the light that changed first. No longer coming from just above us, yet somehow? It still was. The mid-day's sun was bright, cheerful, yet perfectly ordinary. Natural in the way countless summer day's have been. But the light coming from up the path? Low and shifting like a lantern swings, in a way that can only be ORGANIC?

It BURNED.

The sort of light that purges all in its path. That blinds and maims and burns. So hot everything becomes cold, as nerve endings char away. Like the blinding light off winter snow. Pale and reaching. Hungry. Consuming. W...What WAS that? It was getting closer. I backed deeper into the temple. Towards my Lady's idol.

The hush grew louder and louder, in it's terrible absence of sound.

The light brighter, as whatever IT was, got closer.

My eyes could see no shadows, so it probably wasn't real light. It hurt to look at. Yet it didn't hurt in the way staring at bright lights SHOULD hurt. It was painful because it had... claws? Thorns. Jagged, dragging edges that ripped at the something in me that SAW.

I could See because I needed to See, I think.

She NEEDED me to know what stood before me was not merely a man.

And THAT? That is the form it took. The liar and thief. A burning monster at the threshold of my home. Dressed in the finest silks and satins stolen faith can buy, the jewels glinting from his belt enough to buy several small nations. THAT was not a man. It just looked like one. Wore the face of one.

High Priest? Champion?

Goddess help me, an Avatar?

They were enmeshed. Woven so tightly they were all but an extension of the Divine. And it BURNED. Bright, holy, and terrible. A Sun standing before the Moon's own temple, with purging fire in its heart.

"Hello, little Thing. You've been quite stubborn, haven't you?"

They didn't raise their voice, yet still my bones felt like they rattled in my skin. The few windows we had, shook. Light fixtures swayed. I... I was afraid. I would NOT cower, but oh, Lady, I was afraid. His voice felt like the desert sighing against my skin. The edge of a threat.

"I lay out treats and you do not come. I invite the town and you will not hear me. You brothers and sisters kneel at my feet, yet you? You spurn me, too give your loyalty away for nothing."

I watch as he casually reaches to the air to his side. As though accepting something offered from someone who is not there. A cigarette. He tucks it into his mouth and cups the end, his finger glowing brightly as he lights it.

He takes a drag then exhales.

Letting the smoke whisp, rudely, past the unspoken barrier between us and into the temple proper. It's scent mixes discordantly with the incense. Making what was once lovely a cloying and choking mess. I watch him smirk as he takes another drag. Send more smoke inside.

His disrespect is deliberate.

"What can the festering night give, that the loving embrace of the day can not give better?"

His smirk rolls into the mimicry of a laugh. The monster's head tilted as though to consider my reaction even as the empty sound echoes against the temple's walls. It has the depth of a laugh track. The warmth of one. How... HOW has this CREATURE fooled ANYONE? Destroyed us so utterly? It is cruel.

"Ah~ so THAT'S what it is, you precious little Thing." He whispers, somehow the most terrible sound he has made so far. The power of it drags against me covetously, lingering like hands. "True Faith, given freely. You really do love her so, don't you? That wretched, unworthy, Nothing. Little Thing~, you should love ME instead."

It ended in a croon. As though trying to entice me. But all I could hear was static. The pounding of my heart as fear released adrenaline into my body, bringing the world into hyperfocus. "Me"? My ears had not deceived me, right? That THING in mockery of man's form... said "me"?

Oh, Nox Viatoris, our Lady who guides us, on darkest paths in deepest night... h.. hold my soul with kindness. Walk with me, on this broken, troubled path. That I may not face it alone. I... I am scared.

That... That was An AVATAR.

The extension of the Divine upon this mortal world. Not nearly their full power, but even a fraction of the INFINTE? Is beyond mortal capacity to fight. Only Avatars could handle other Avatars. On rare occasions, Champions, should they band together. But I... I was just a priestess. A humble child of nowhere.

Oh Goddess.

I back up. My back hitting the alter. I... I was probably going to die here. Our faith, wiped from the face of the map. I finally understood. He had come to stomp, like crushing ants, on what few hold outs dared linger at the fringes of his domain. Sent his Avatar to convert and destroy.

Our home would be nothing but rubble, wouldn't it? Generations of faith, gone. Our history, burned before his uncaring purge. At... oh Goddess, dear Lady, at least I would walk that final time with her. Could return the kindness she had shown so many. He was going to kill her. Kill US.

I...I refused to let her die alone.

Against my back, I felt the cool warmth of my Lady, leaning against me. Her unseen arms around me in comfort. For me or herself, I could not tell. It did not matter. I stood taller. Head high, shoulders back, feet shoulders wide. Shaking, yes, but unwilling to cower.

If I died today, I would walk proudly with Nox Viatoris.

The smile had slipped from the Avatar's face as it blankly regarded the spot directly behind me. Like a puppet sliding back into default in that absence of commands. I briefly wondered... who had he been? The faithful man, who gave up his form? Who was hollowed out and USED? He was beautiful. Had he been asked?

Or had he had this terrible thing inflicted upon him?

I would never know.

"That's rather annoying, you useless little parasite. She and I were having a conversation." The puppet's, the AVATAR'S mouth, barely moved. "Can't you go check on those wastes of space of yours? The ones that you've only barely managed to keep? They should be dead soon, you'll need to do your job. I'll take Good Care~ of this bright little soul. Don't bother coming back."

"No need." Came the deceptively soft rasp of the high priest. His normally kind face colder then I had ever seen it. Fierce and determined as he lead the other elders from the where they had been meeting in the gardens. Had the Goddess called them? Or had they simply sensed something was wrong?

"I am afraid that although the temple is said to be open to all, that is not, in fact, strictly true. Those that come here with malicious intent are not welcome. Nor those who come to cause trouble, intent regardless. YOU have caused grief and pain here. We do not welcome you to these halls. Please go."

Elder Lilam was subtly pushing me towards the back of the group. Their eyes somber as they met mine. I... I did not cry. There would been time for such things later, I hoped. I nodded back. Understood. Went, softly, on quiet feet. Past the alter, into the back, down the main hall on swift but not running feet.

To the back, where the wanderers bags were. For those our Lady calls suddenly to travel. To wander the roads in search of lost travelers in need of aid. I grabbed more then my fair share of bags. I... I did not suspect I would be coming back. Then into the back gardens. Where we grew herbs and vegetables for the kitchen.

The front of the temple SHOOK.

A terrible burning light. Heat and death. I barely kept my feet under me. Broke into a sprint. Away from the only home I had ever known. The Elders I was certain our Lady now walked to their rest. Towards the mountains and forests I had explored all my life. I... I could only hope they would protect me.

In my chest, the mantle of High Priestess settled. Heavy and mournful with our Lady's grief. I would have to carry the weight. There was no one else now. They were gone. With her. They had done all they could.

Felt their sorrow, their love, and it was all I could do not to let my tears blind me.

I needed to see the path. Could not risk missteping even once.

Behind me, down further below, and now hidden by the trees, I heard the temple crash and shake. As it was torn apart. Pillar by pillar, room by room, lifetimes of love and memories were destroyed. The murals painted in my childhood were surely gone by now. The hand carved doors that had lasted for centuries. Paint splatters and embroideries from generations of youth who had grown to call that place home.

Gone.

All of us, gone.

I ran.

I ran and I HATED myself for running. What could I DO? What could I POSSIBLY hope to DO? All I had left was to survive. Too carry them forward. It hurt. Worse then any breaking bone or burning skin. I couldn't even cry. I... I didn't have the TIME.

I hit the tree line. Didn't dare go too much higher. Didn't know if Avatars could fucking fly. Didn't want to find out the hard way. So many things I did not do. Was there anything left I DID do? Was GOOD for?

There was.

The shadowed place between two mountains. Mid-day had past. Afternoon was meandering towards days end. It would only get darker from here. Ha ha... where was this? When we need it? Oh, I knew. The monster timed his arrival well. At the height of his power.

But this was MY house now.

He may be stronger then me? But that meant NOTHING. I did not need power here. I needed SUBTLETY. A whisp of nothingness of a breeze of shadows. I could feel him, slow and steady, arrogant in his assumptions, pursuing me. He really did know NOTHING about those he destroyed. We were beneath his notice.

I hope the hubris burns as he chokes on it.

I slip between the mountains, into that deep rift of a valley, more crack then anything, and... VANISH. I am One with the Night. A traveler on Her path. Safe in her care. Sideways and one step removed from reality, as I race forward. No longer stumbling over uneven rocks and clambering on unstable terrain, the path beneath my feet is soft and smooth. I grin, as far away, that bastard falters.

"Oh, you clever little Thing. I forgot you still had tricks. Amusing~"

"It won't keep you from me though, I WILL have you in the end. And you will worship ME. Look only upon ME. And you will be my favorite, I think. I am going to chase you down, little Thing. So go ahead and pray. It will do you no good."

"You are going to be MINE, beautiful in the sunlight. You have no choice."

[celtrist]

I really want to see a more fucked up version of Charlie in canon. Like, okay, I am a die-hard for sweet bubbly girls in media. But I always see how some people make Charlie actually, oh I dunno... demonic? And it's so refreshing for her type of character. I could honestly see her having low empathy (and we kinda see this with how she handled Angel's situation or even Vaggie's nervousness about taking control on an activity). An exploration of that trait (if it was intended) would be interesting to see for a protagonist, especially when her main goal is about helping others. I would love to see her actually have a level of difficulty in understanding others' feelings from the other residents, sinners, and even her father.

But give her a fucked up side. Not a "she gets more power when she's angey uwu", but a "oh, she's a little fucked in the head". It would give so much to her character that she just doesn't have.

@/murmurmurena (don't wanna bother them so slash there we go) has some fun ideas with Charlie. I highly encourage people to check their stuff out! So many fun dark ideas with her character while also still keeping to her canon personality pretty well! Personally, I think Charlie being a bit more naive to her own messed up traits would work best but her also being aware of these traits can make for some interesting character for her.

THIS FIC, "A Game Between You and I". RIGHT HERE WITH THE FIRST CHAPTER. A bit of spoil for the fic here: but I love how they handled Charlie’s absolute ignorance as to why the idea of Russian roulette is horrifying to Angel Dust. It doesn't feel like her being intentionally malicious or aware that she's the odd man out here. This is also a pretty old fic going by only the pilot, but the point still stands that it was such a fun take for her character!

Charlie is one of my favorite characters in the show in part of the POTENTIAL she could have as being the most bubbly sweetheart character while also being the most messed up character in the show. I can't say I have strong confidence with the show's writing and fully expect them to stick with Charlie being the "nice girl but oh no, don't get her angry or she gets scarwy". Which isn't bad for a character mind you, there's just so much more potential to Charlie outside of that trope, especially when you get into the theories of her either being a doll, Roo's biological daughter, or what have you. And for the MAIN CHARACTER of the show, it would be not only interesting but also bring the spotlight back to her.

There's really no question that the side characters steal the show, particularly all the male characters. If I'm honest, Charlie does not feel like she gets a lot of love from the show itself when she's supposed to be the main character. She feels far more flat compared to the rest of the characters (again, the male cast in this "female-lead" show has more depth than most of the female cast currently. I wouldn't be pointing this tidbit concerning the genders of characters if it weren't for the fact Viv defended Helluva's lack of development with their female cast by saying "Hazbin is a female-lead show and Helluva is a male-lead" and Hazbin ended up with it not feeling female lead (to me) and the male cast just completely stealing the show. I don't normally care about gender stuff, especially since I do personally lean interest towards male characters. But using one show as a defense for poor development of the female characters, and then that show not really holding up with no very interesting well-developed feeling female characters irritates me. It's just very clear that these shows don't seem to care much about the female cast :/)

If you like how Charlie is written that's totally fine. PERSONALLY, I just think they're missing so much opportunity with her character by just making her the standard female character type. I honestly don't have a lot of faith they'll actually do something with Charlie's character though. She's a pretty static character in S1 being the same from start to end. Not changing or learning anything to create any development. What does the end of season Charlie do that start of season Charlie wouldn't do? Fight back? Because we see with the pilot (which is the “first episode”) that Charlie does fight people if pushed like with Katie Killjoy and even Valentino. Static characters can work in media depending on the show or their role. But Charlie is the MC of a show about “bettering one's self”. So to have her as a static with not a lot of strong dilemmas for herself (like we see with Angel Husk Al and even Vox) seems silly. Plus, considering Hazbin is telling a whole story and it's not a fun episodic thing, characters are expected to grow on some level. Or else, what was the point of their hero's journey?

[lustkillers]

｡ﾟ･ ୨୧ me and the devil.

⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - you've devoted your life to the man above, the one you call your savior. you resisted the temptation of man, yet there was this void that needed to be filled. perhaps the devil you call 'jack' can fill that very void.

⊹₊ ⋆ pairing - jack thurlow x fem!reader

✶ c.w. - nsfw, dom!jack, sub!reader, religious!reader, ooc jack? reader is described wearing a dress, p in v, couch sex, corruption kink, virginity loss, religious imagery, slight sadism, creampie, overstimulation, humiliation, fingering, degradation, exhibitionism? (let me know if i missed anything!)

⊹₊ ⋆ note - happy new years from me to you! enjoy the start of 2024 with a couple of fics/blurbs or however you wanna call them! love u all <3

a silver, dainty cross sat on top of your chest as you typed away on the computer across the broken cubicle of the man you called the devil.

jack thurlow was his name, and you were punished by god himself for the sins you've done when you were younger. now, it caught up to you, and you hated it. what sucked more was that the border between his cubicle and yours was torn down, so every time you looked up, his face would be there. you knew that hate was a strong word, but you had to say it. you had to say:

"i hate you." you mumbled, a stern look on your face. but that look only looked stupid in jack's eyes. he thought it was a pathetic attempt in trying to stand your ground, and it only fueled you more.

he only raised an eyebrow, looking at you with the same monotone look he always had. “you tell me that every day.” he replied, making you grip the bottom of your pretty white dress in anger.

"i swear to—"

"who are you swearing to, huh?" he cut you off, making you whimper a little in response.

that shut you up immediately, making you fiddle with the ends of your dress. as much as you didn’t want to talk back, jack was making it harder and harder. he knew how to push your buttons, and wasn’t afraid to do so. he’d always have this one goal: to break you.

you were the office's 'pretty little thing,' a running "joke" that the men in the office would partake in. they would talk about how "innocent" and god ridden you were, and they all wanted to corrupt your innocence, your faith. jack had never partook in such activities, let alone ever converse with the men in the office, except for when his coworkers would ask if he'd like a cup of coffee, he'd always decline.

"answer me." he pushed the subject on you, and just as you were deciding what to say, the clock hit eight pm. you only sent him a soft smile, your plump, pink lips curving upwards.

you fluttered your eyelashes at him, tilting your head. "have a good night, jack!" you were packing all your stuff, your breasts bouncing a bit, making the cross necklace that sat on your chest move along. that alone made his eyes avert to your breasts, eying the way they move.

he had thought how you were a woman of god, yet wearing skimpy clothing that made everyone at the office have a hard-on. just how naive were you?

however, it was also time for jack to clock out as well, him falling along. the rain outside poured harder, and he was trailing behind you as you exited the building, your dress hiking up every step in your walk. he stared for quite sometime, before being broken out of his thoughts.

"i'd hate to be a bother, but could you drive me home, jack?" you asked so sweetly, it was almost intoxicating to him. he wanted to say 'no' so bad, yet something about you captivated him. it was a sick feeling in his heart, watching as you stood there so innocently, holding a pretty pink umbrella.

he stared at you for a few seconds, before letting out a sigh. "sure."

☆

he didn't know how he ended up here, but he was now in your apartment, photo frames of you and your family spread along the wall, including statues and photo frames of god. the last supper was hung on top of the kitchen frame, facing the dining table, which only had five chairs surrounding the rectangular table.

you were babbling about your home and god, but that was all white noise. your babbling was just nonsense to him until you had said that you'd never had virginity taken. a bit tmi, but you said it so casually.

"you've never had a boyfriend?" he blurted out, making you stop talking.

"i never said that," you replied, your doe eyes looking into his blank ones. "i said that i never had sex." the word sex made you cringe, but you had to state your point.

"how come?" he inquired, a bunch of thoughts swarming his head, and they were not pure ones.

a moment of silence exchanged between them, before you quietly spoke up. "i'm saving myself for marriage." ah, the classic response. yet, it boggled him. he knew that you were a naive and kind girl, but never realized how dedicated you could be. "i want to make sure that my first time is meaningful with the person i'm going to spend the rest of my life with."

he slowly tilted his head, "but aren't you curious?" he inched towards you, making you stand there, your face slightly burning.

"e-excuse me?" you questioned. you knew exactly what he was talking about, and you were curious. but you knew where your loyalties lied, with the man upstairs.

he let out a scoff, "don't act stupid. you're not five years old. you know exactly what i'm talking about."

you felt your core pulse with eagerness, and it hurt. a strange sensation pooled between your thighs, and your breathing quickly increasing with every step he took towards you. maybe you would risk faith for him.

he placed his calloused hand on your hips, tracing down to your ass, making you jump from his touch. he left goosebumps all around your arms, your pupils dilating by the second. he had this effect on you, and you hated it. you hated how the sacred photos were staring you both at this very moment.

within seconds, his lips collided with yours, making you yelp. you automatically melted into his touch, your knees buckling at the moment. his kisses were harsh, and you couldn't keep up with it.

as he kissed you, his hands traveled to your soaked panties, a whimper escaping your lips, followed by a gasp. "jack..." you breathlessly sighed, your hand on his wrist, but not stopping him.

his rough hands pushed you lightly onto the couch, him hovering above you. jack's hand pulled your panties to the side, his hands covered with your slick. his thumb rubbed your clit, jolting your body upwards, closing your thighs together.

"oh, please! jack!" you cried out, the feeling twisting knobs in your stomach.

he pulled your thighs apart, slapping the inside of your right thigh. "don't." he whispered, his lips millimeters away from yours.

his fingers plunged into your soaking cunt, making you squeal at the uncomfortableness that plowed inside of you. he went at a medium to fast pace, the uncomfortableness turning into moments of pleasure, but it made you squirm away, the feeling too much.

"aw," he cooed, "what? can't take my fingers?" he mocked, holding your thighs apart. you cried out, feeling the knot in your stomach slowly coming undone.

"please, please, please, jack!" you moaned out, "i need to- i need to-"

you didn’t know what was happening, but your thighs shook and you were seeing white. before you knew it, you came undone by his fingers.

the feeling of you tightening on his fingers made his cock twitch, straining against the fabric of his jeans. he was painfully hard, and he needed to fill you. his pants were unzipped and his cock was free from the blockage of fabric. his cock prodded at your entrance, making you look down with eyes slightly widened.

"no, no, no... that won't fit..." you whispered, scared of his cock inside your tight walls.

jack looked up at the cross hung up in front of the couch, letting out a cocky smile. "i think god will let it fit, don't you?"

you hummed in response, but eventually nodded.

he entered your wet, tight cunt, groaning at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him. you let out a wail, the pain searing at your core. he was still inside, letting you adjust to his cock. "you ready f'me, hun?"

you nodded, quietly hissing as he pulled out and plunged back in. it was repeated thrusts over and over again, your pain soon turning into pleasure. he laughed to himself over the fact that you were so in touch with god, yet committing an act of blasphemy in front of him.

you let out whines and moans, the cross between your chest bouncing up and down from the thrusts. you clawed at his chest as he pounded into you, over and over again.

"look at you," he leaned up against your ear, "getting fucked in front of god." his words sent you into a spiral, drawing you closer to the edge. you moaned at his words, but you wished you didn't. it was all so wrong... but it felt so right.

tears welled up in your eyes as the euphoric feeling happened again, "i-it's happening again, jack! oh, please..." you whimpered, your legs trembling again.

"cum for me. cum for your god." he groaned out, cumming into your wet cunt. the feeling made your stomach feel full, a whine drawing from your lips as he pulled out, watching the white fluid drip down your pussy and onto the black couch.

you were definitely going to repent for your sins.

[la-pheacienne]

So let me get this straight.

If I believe that a particular character should be ruler/would be a good ruler/would have been a good ruler/deserves to be ruler/will probably end up being ruler/was unfairly deprived of their rulership, be it dany, or jon, or rhaenyra or rhaegar or arya or bran or stannis the mannis (ew) or my neighbour or your mother or whomever the hell you want them to be, I am classist. And royalist. And conservative. And going against the themes of asoiaf. Because no one can fix westeros, because there are no good rulers/there can be no good rulers/rulership is inherently bad/inherently moraly wrong/ the throne is doomed to be destroyed because it is the root of all evil-

But somehow if you believe that one particular character, coincidentally your fave, will probably be a ruler (queen in the north or in any other position of FEUDAL power- ruling is not just reserved to the iron throne btw), or that she should be a ruler or that she would be a good ruler, you are somehow not classist or royalist or conservative.

Can somebody tell me why that is? What is the justification behind your speculation in the first place? Why will she/why should she be a ruler? Because she deserves it? Because she has been through so much? Because she's strong and powerful and resilient? Okay? So, the only meaningful difference between your take and my take is that I actually (naively!) have faith in the possibility that a character that has been established again and again as a progressive and radical leader could possibly contribute to a meaningful radical collective change in the world while you just consider rulership as a prize, as a reward for individual struggle? And somehow that makes me more conservative? That makes me a classist? Besties, it is literally the other way round.

I don't even hate that character. I am pretty neutral towards her, I would even say that I am sympathetic towards her. And I actually believe she will end up in a position of power (not queen in the north but a position of power nonetheless). Yes, in a position of feudal power, that's what I mean, that's the only real power any character could ever have in a book series that is set in a pseudomedieval world. But you need to be very careful before you start throwing around classism and royalism and conservatism accusations at people for actively engaging with a pseudomedieval fantasy (fantasy!!) book series whose entire foundation is the question "what is a good leader?", "what makes a good leader?", "how does someone become a good leader?", "how could this system become slightly better?", "what are the powers that stop any real progress? how can these powers be defeated?" The answers to these questions in asoiaf are not easy or automatic. But they exist. All of these questions have answers in the text. Concrete, solid answers, whether you like it or not. Believing in the truth of those answers simply means we engage with the themes of the (fictional!) story. It simply makes us fans of the text. It does not make us stupid or naive, and it definitely does not make us conservative.

There is nothing that I despise more in this fandom than the double standard of "oh you are so lame if you actually believe someone could/will be a good ruler, nobody should be king or queen, meanwhile let's talk about my fave's ruling arc" (asoiaf version), or "oh you are so lame if you actually believe a particular character should have been ruler and not the other, that makes you a classist and we're not, all sides are bad because monarchy, meanwhile let's dedicate 99,9% of our posts explaining why one side is wrong. One specific side. Entirely coincidentally, since we do not take sides" (fire and blood version).

The meaningful difference between these two fandom "factions" is that one is honest and openly engages with the themes of the story in an organic and positive and hopeful way, while the other is just this annoying group of college kids repeating the same, holier-than-thou, pseudo-intellectual takes ad infinitum to appear smarter than anyone else while carefully concealing their obvious bias.

[sinvilles]

additional thoughts: why cancelling the show actually did Orel's character so so so dirty

disclaimer again: I'm unconcerned about redemption because I'm not a fuckin lutheran. I'm a writer and I like sociological stories and seeing characters achieve wholeness within narrative. moral orel is a unique case because the story was cut short halfway through, and all character arcs were arrested at their lowest point in the narrative, except for some characters on the side who were just kind of beginning to shine.

The gist of the matter is that Moral Orel was cancelled because the executive producer's favorite character was supposed to grow up and he had a problem with that not being very funny. Orel was supposed to go from a naive and well-meaning albeit trouble-making child to a very mature and thoughtful young teenager. The beginnings of this were in Nature, and the way people respond to that you'd think this was the point of his character arc, that the end of it was just him realizing his dad wasn't shit and that's the conclusion of his story. That was just the start.

Orel was supposed to experience profound loss for the first time. He was supposed to grow more open minded and perceptive and thoughtful, and actively question his small world and what was being fed to him. Orel was going to have a crisis of faith. HE WAS GOING TO HAVE AN EMO PHASE. There was a lot that was going to occur for his character, but it was cut short and so when they put that happy ending in the finale it feels more like aftercare after a deeply bleak and unsettling turn of events. Just because you get aftercare from a story that only resolves issues to a halfway point, doesn't make a proper ending. The narrative, the writers, the audience have emotional investment in these characters.

Sure, we joke that we hate the characters and that they deserve their misery- and where the story ended, they deserved their misery. It didn't have to be that way. These characters are well written enough to hate, to love, to consider and reconsider over and over. Secretly we all wanted them to grow- even Clay, a character so damaged and ruined he seems bereft of any of god's mercy.

But this assumption that Orel had a full character arc- its insulting to him. Especially the jump to "and then miraculously he had a happy family with Christina the end." Characters become whole through their struggles, because through it they reach a sense of understanding. Orel had come to a couple of understandings by season three- God isn't just in church, and his father is a flawed and hurt individual. Then what? does he just repress everything and go about his life? Hating his father and opposing him was the start of a new arc, not the end of his story. Fuck man, it makes him seem immature.

I mean, if its the end of anything it feels like the end of his innocence, not his story. In one of the unmade scripts, Narcissism, there's this confession to Putty:

shit man he's worried about his dad getting sadder? This child is so beautiful and pure, fuck man I wish the fandom remembered him like this and not like the bleak combined ending of Nesting and Honor. 13 is such an unlucky number. they should have stopped at Sacrifice. and also:

YES OREL, REPRESSION IS BAD! You're doing so good baby boy

Beforel Orel was a fun excursion, and it brought a new angle to his (very strongly hinted to be neurodivergent) character. but it mostly told us things we already knew. and the thought that we'll never get any more.... shit hurts. Idk I don't have much to say other than I'm sad. in conclusion

[crowfromfoggyforest]

Okay but we need to talk about how easily Charlie was manipulated in this scene.

Of course, it isn't surprising - she wants to see the best in everyone. But y'all don't realize the extent of this. I know, in this scene, it's not even her that Alastor was targeting, but still: If she didn't even find it weird or suspicious that Alastor - who had always acted rather reserved until then - suddenly said she was like a daughter to him... Alastor will be able to manipulate her into doing everything he wants. And he knows it.

Honestly, this is my new theory for a season 2 plotline:

Alastor will get Charlie to do things that benefit him, and she won't realize how objectively bad these things are until it's too late?! because she's blinded by her faith in everyone around her. She really thinks he's part of their found family now, she trusts him - until she finally realizes that he had his own evil plans all along. This will teach her another important lesson, after "you can't fix everyone's problems just by being nice": That she shouldn't trust everyone, that some people can't be redeemed.

Even with Sir Pentious, her naive decision to give him a second chance turned out to be the right one. Imo, in order for her to learn her lesson, she needs to not only be deceived, but her trust and optimism have to be actively used against her. As in, the terrible consequences have to be directly her fault, because her trust lead her to do things that harm others in the end.

I really want to see the show explore this.

[theroundbartable]

What do you think are Merlin and Arthur’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic?

OOoh... interesting question.

Arthur Pendragon:

Arthur's positive traits, his strengths, are also his weaknesses. He questions everything. He tries to see the good in people and tries to do right by them. It is kind of why he's such a resetting character. Because every time he reaches out to something, like magic, he gets proven otherwise. Yet, he can't NOT question it. He's trusting and forgiving and yet, he's the character who has most often been deceived, lied to and actively betrayed. In a strange way, this behavior makes him extraordinary. He has trust issues, in the end, but he still offers his trust to his knights and especially to Merlin. In a way, he tends to overlook the bad things people did because he values their positive traits more (like with Agravaine).

And of course, he cares more about his kingdom than himself. His kingdom is even more important to him than his father or any of the people who's love he craves.

Other weaknesses of his are obviously that he can't do basic stuff like brush his hair or cook. And I'm pretty sure he's somehow cursed that all these magic events happen around him.

Another is his self worth. He sees worth in everyone else but never in himself. His life is important only to protect Camelot. His life belongs to his people and he really does believe that. It's not that he thinks he's worthless, it's that he misinterprets it and lives as a breathing sacrifice.

Merlin:

Merlin's strength is his confidence and his faith. From the moment we first see him, he's able to face one of the most powerful people in the world and not back down, even though he knows he has to hide his magic.

He is brave and selfless. In the sense that he doesn't care about his own feelings and life as much as about others, especially Arthur. And of course, he hates conflict.

Merlin is NOT trusting. Not the way Arthur is. Merlin trusts people he has seen do good in action. He does NOT trust people he doesn't know, and in some cases, even his friends. Best example for this part is Lancelot's shade, whom Merlin almost immediately suspected. I think, in a way, he seems more naive and trusting to us because for us this is fiction and just a show. But to Merlin, it is significant that some stuck up noble saves his life without question, or that someone is willing to keep his magic secret for Merlin's sake, or that the dragon helps him find his purpose and helps him to better Camelot. That is why Merlin's trust is RELIABLE, while Arthur's is not. And that is why Arthur trusts Merlin's instincts. I think Arthur knows that Merlin has a better hunch for people's true intentions than he does. It is just that after a while, he thinks he's learned from previous mistakes and he doesn't want to be so bad at it, when HE'S the one who should know, after being betrayed so many times, while Merlin is JUST a servant with no such history (that he knows of).

Their dynamic:

How could I start this part other than with 'they are two sides of the same coin'. And I think it's really fucked up because imagine a coin with a person on each side. They would NEVER be able to ever fully see each other.

Imagine that. I think, Arthur's side is the one with the number on it that tells him exactly what his worth is, where he's supposed to be, supposed to go, what he can be exchanged for.

On the other side is Merlin who is the side that talks about where he's from, what his traditions are, etc.

Merlin has to learn his self worth through the storyline, Arthur needs to learn the traditions and where he is from and what he is truly fighting for. That's kind of why I love the metaphor.

It also means that Arthur can never truly know who Merlin is unless Merlin tells him. Can't know magic, can't know his own background and the circumstances of his birth.

And Merlin can never truly see how important he is to the kingdom. He only knows he's tied to Arthur and that SOMEDAY it will be better. That he's already reached his destiny doesn't even occurr to him.

It makes me wonder what it means when Arthur dies, in relation to this metaphor. Is the side blank now? Has the coin simply been flipped and now Merlin is at the front? What does it mean???

Anyway. What else I love about their dynamic is how intimate it is. I'll say it as I always do, I think Gwen is the better queen and makes more sense to marry Arthur since they both see only the future of the kingdom. But that is the point. Their relationship is public and a symbol of peace. Merlin's and Arthur's shared destiny is always private, always hidden behind layers of lies. Even when they finally share their true feelings, it remains intimate and private. When they are together, they are focused on themselves and their soulbond.

Where Gwen and Arthur discuss the future of the kingdom and what to do with their people, Merlin is personal reassurance for Arthur.

Here are two example scenes that shall make this more clear.

In the episode where Arthur is meant to marry Elena, he asks Merlin what he thinks about the arranged marriage. And Merlin goes on a rant to tell Arthur that his feelings matter. That being emotionally available, by choosing himself and who he loves, he WILL be a better king. In Merlin's rant, Arthur's happiness comes fist. The kingdom, second. Even though they are clearly interconnected.

Arthur had a conversation with Gwen about the marriage beforehand and Gwen accepted his responsibility to marry for the better of the kingdom, putting CAMELOT first. While promising him that he can be happy with his wife too. Even if she's not what he wants at first, he can grow to love her.

Neither of those are bad things. As I said before, Arwen makes sense and MORE sense for the kingdom. But Arthur and Merlin are more private and intimate and basically soulmates. Romance aside, this is what I think makes their dynamic so fascinating to me. It is friendship, a deep emotional bond that often times goes beyond normal friendship. (Not necessarily romantic, but definitely deeper than best friends.)

There is more I love but I don't want to spam the tumblr. Lol. Thank you for the question, anon :)

[adarkrainbow]

I am not very active around here, sorry for that, I've been busy with life X)

I'll share however something you might be interested into hearing about: we were talking about the reputation of pigs in culture with themousefromfantasyland. I checked out a book by Michael Pastoureau about the history of the pig, and if you don't know Pastoureau, in France he is called "The historian of colors and animals", because he became famous by doing a series of books studying the evolution, social function and cultural symbolism of... well, both colors and animals. He wrote a book about the bear, one about the wolf, more recently he did one about the whale, and he also wrote one about pigs.

Anyway: in his book, Pastoureau analyzes a certain phenomenon in modern children media that he called "The Good Little Pig". Despite the very long history of the pig being seen as an evil and negative creature [an "impure" creature in religion that you can't eat, the symbol of gluttony, brutality and dirtiness, a servant or appearance of the devil, even a symbol for lust from Renaissance onward] children media has formed a true archetype of the pig as a cute, clean, sanitized, asexual being who is happy, optimistic, naive, joyful - and quite "childish" to the point it can be seen as basically being an animalized child, or a projection of children in the animal world. A character that kids can identify with or relate to easily. The Three Pigs as reinvented and popularized by Disney, Piglet from Winnie the Pooh, Babs the pig, Porky Pig from the Looney Tunes (Pastoureau also includes Miss Piggy in the lot, which I do not entirely agree with).

And Pastoureau does a quite interesting analysis of how this modern archetype actually has roots in older parts of the "pig myth" in European culture - from the pig of saint Anthony, symbolizing the good and faithful companion, the loyal pet of the saints, the comfort and love hermits and holy men obtain even though they are isolated from all civilization and humanity in the wilderness (plus, it was the pet-symbol of a charitable order of healing-monks) ; to the legend of saint Nicolas, where the piglets are associated with human children, due to the disturbing incident of the butcher killing three orphans during a famine and trying to sell their meat as pork, only for the saint to resurrect them.

Pastoureau also evokes how in older societies piglets are strongly associated or linked to children - with them looking a LOT like human babies (he evokes the old roots of the Three Little Pigs fairytale, but he doesn't mention the Alice in Wonderland episode of the baby turning into a pig, which I think is a missing element), or how in old European rurality when boys were separated from girls (around 5-6 years old) they were sent to guard, watch over and live with the pigs, while girls were tasked with guarding sheep or goose, leading to boys being literaly "raised with pigs". (And there's a much more general exploration of how the pig is associated and linked to the human being, from Antiquity surgery to when pigs were put on trials, passing by famous legends like the myth of Circe turning men into pigs)

And Pastoureau's conclusion is that The Good Little Pig archetype answers or manifests a specific manifestation of the pig, as a symbol and embodiment of children, of the pure, innocent, joyful and naive world of childhood, which is then confronted with the darkess, violence and danger of the adult world, usually in the shape of a greedy farmer, a bloodthirsty butcher, or a big bad wolf.

[slavicafire]

I started doing some research on Slavic wedding and funeral rituals as well as other things, and I noticed that most sources are mainly about Russia? Sometimes they mention traditions coming from more western territories like Poland, but a lot of them seem to be focused on Russia. I began to wonder why. Do you perhaps have any thoughts or information about that?

the first question goes towards you: what sort of sources are you reading? where are you accessing them, and who are the authors? are you researching in multiple slavic languages or just one? some sources are more accessible and easier to obtain, yes, but at the end of the day what you read depends on your skill and patience in research itself, too.

when it comes to russian prevalence in certain sources, the size alone plays a part in it: with how big russia was and is - how it encroached on multiple territories and peoples throughout the centuries, simultaneously sucking up their traditions and snuffing them out, and oftentimes being their only chronicler - and how powerful and prominent it was. we have precious little sources regarding slavic beliefs across the ages - it is much easier for your documents, chronicles, and even oral histories to survive and be studied by new generations, including foreign scholars, when you are the winning party and the conqueror; when you have the resources to preserve them, and the numbers to fuel their study.

it is also important to understand that historical and ethnographic studies have been used since, well maybe not the dawn of time, but close to that, as tools for nation building. with enough money and human resources, and strong enough propaganda foundations, those tools aim to create and/or rewrite the common consciousness of people by the state that rules them with high degree of success - and russia has certainly never shied away from using them. these are nearly inherently political fields - it's building national foundation myths and establishing seemingly innate qualities linking people the state wants to govern, from small things like the songs children are singing in school and what the text boxes at the museums say to steer the explanation of a given exhibition in a certain direction, up to justifying martial conflicts and horrifying ideologies. if nationhood itself is not already a horrifying ideology, that is.

it might seem like a bad faith stretch to attribute the prevalence of russia and russian sources in many slavic-related studies, historical or religious or ethnograpic, simply to its size and power and degree of success of state propaganda, but the more you delve into this subject the more probable it seems. for example, many texts on slavic customs (pre-christian or not) in english, especially older ones, rely quite heavily on rybakov - the champion of anti-normanism and, nowadays, an author understood widely as very eager to build the nation-myth no matter the cost to actual historical accuracy. if "accuracy" is even a term that can be used while discussing history - but that's a whole different subject.

luckily, today we are getting more and more studies, more research, more researchers - and while it might seem naive, I do believe plenty of them are actively acting against pure nation myth-building, and are eager to focus on lands and peoples different than russia. accessing their works is, as I've said, a matter of one's personal skill and patience while looking for texts.

[pieridae-art]

Special Lan Xichen analysis post

As I’ve previously said, Lan Xichen is a very flawed person and that’s okay! I want to examine him at several parts of the story and pick apart some of the criticism he gets. So let’s talk Lan Xichen!

Siege of the Burial Mounds: I really like this one shot from the donghua where the Sect Leaders of each sect (NMJ, JGS, and JC) are shown at the siege and beside them representing the Lan sect is… Lan Qiren. Not LXC. Setting aside the perfect storm JGS set up for the siege to occur (I don’t care who led it; JGS is the problem post-Sunshot Campaign about 99% of the time), I think this is because LXC stayed back in the Cloud Recesses with LWJ tending to his wounds post-whipping. Not assuming LXC’s absence, however, the siege was led by JC and orchestrated (because separating the twin prides of Yunmeng and artificially creating tension within the jianghu was a deliberate action) by JGS. Not saying LXC’s participation is okay just because he wasn’t the driving force behind it but imagine if the Lan sect stood against the other sect’s wishes. Standing up for WWX would have been the right thing to do but were the Lans in any position to oppose the siege with their sect in the process of rebuilding? Going along with the siege, to me, is an act of cowardice, not malice. Extra note: we see his capability of defending the Wen remnants when JGS is talking shit about them and WWX but he is shut down immediately and does not speak up any further. This is not a matter of hypocrisy; it’s a matter of fearing the consequences.

NMJ’s death: this is rocky territory. It was a bad idea full stop to force proximity between them hoping everything would sort itself out. But you simply cannot blame him for NMJ’s death because he couldn’t have known. One could argue that he endangered JGY by forcing him to be near someone who tried to kill him several times. I think that’s an oversimplification of the situation. To me, this was a gesture of trust. Trust that NMJ will make an attempt to restrain himself/get better and trust that JGY will aid him in doing so. As we know, this trust is misguided. He’s rather naive to think this would work. But he is humored anyway by two people with bad intentions toward each other. LXC is not at fault for this going south when it was at a certain point inevitable. But he did enable it.

That one line about WWX being LWJ’s only mistake: I get so defensive because honestly I’d have said much worse in his position! Think about what he knows about Wangxian’s relationship leading up to it. He saw his brother devastated that the man he loved was being corrupted and harmed by his cultivation, watched as LWJ despaired over him and fought the elders and got whipped for him. He’s only seen his brother suffer due to his love for WWX. Was saying this okay? No. Consider the circumstances surrounding this line, however. Also criticizing him for this is just plain nit-picky to me lol there’s plenty this man has actually done wrong to criticize him for.

And another thing: stop saying he favored JGY over LWJ!! The entire point of his denial surrounding JGY is that there was no solid, tangible proof that was damning enough for him to outright condemn JGY without some level of unfair assumption! He was trying to be fair about the investigation! Might I add: WWX was the only one who saw NMJ’s head in Jinlintai. Had it been LWJ to see it and approach him I think the story would’ve gone differently! But it wasn’t. And he wanted to have faith in his friend from an underprivileged background constantly facing slander and mistreatment despite doing good things for the world against the jianghu’s wishes because isn’t that what LWJ did with WWX? LXC learned his lesson from WWX’s death, he just practiced it on the wrong person.

What have we learned? Lan Xichen was complicit in and enabled a lot of Bad Things if he was not an active participant, most of it willingly and some of it unknowingly. He’s unfair sometimes. He’s weak willed and lacks the strength to actually stand up for anyone in a meaningful way. He’s naive. In my opinion, he was in denial for a large portion of his story about the harmful effects of his actions.

And I adore him! He’s got the capacity for so much good and he fails to live up to it! He wants to be righteous and he doesn’t know how without putting the people he is responsible for at risk! He thinks he can do conflict resolution and he just can’t! By the end of the story, he is painfully aware of all of this and he lives knowing he did the wrong thing over and over and over again. He got the only outcome he could ever have. I don’t think he deserved his ending but I do think he might have earned it.

[endlessly-cursed]

Next Gen- Yasemin Battersea-Parsons

“𝑰𝒇 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒕.”

Name: Yasemin Neeru Battersea Parsons

Nicknames: Yas

Birthdate: 16th of December 2004

Zodiac Sign: Saggitarius (i think??)

Personality Type (MBTI): TBD

Blood Status: Pureblood

Nationality: Turkish-Indian-Irish

Physical Appearance

Hair: Black, curly

Eyes: Black

Height: 1.57m

Weight: 64kg

Body Type: Medium-size

Skin Tone: Dark brown

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): One birthmark on her neck

Background

Hometowns

Kolkata, India- The rich and ancient city was the place of birth for Yasemin, and where she spent much of her winter in the Bengali equivalent of Christmas and even participated in religious rites, despite following the Muslim religion more.

Antakya, Turkey- Her other hometown, she lived in a rustic yet wealthy house with her grandmother, where she spent many summers and even visited many mosques and started on her Muslim faith

Dublin, Ireland- Her main residence, living outside the center, she loved how carefree and busy they were and many of her friends lived near, and her formative years were spent there

Family

Mother: Esmanur Zeynep Battersea

The only living Battersea that directly descended from Simon by then, she was raised as a hanimsultan and was treated like Middle-Eastern royalty despite being long gone. She did not expect to have children after Shreya, and was delighted to have one more child. Despite being fond of Yasemin, her favouritism was never noticed by her daughters

Father: Mahmoud Ismail Parsons

A Bengali businessman, he married Esmanur to enforce his monopoly on the industry and expand his growing empire. When Esmanur was pregnant again, he was surprised and worried, because his wife have had fertility problems years prior and didn't want to risk her life. Nevertheless, Yasemin was born healthy and without much fuss, and he spoiled her

Older sister: Shreya Humashah Battersea Parsons

Although she was first angry at Yasemin's birth, the moment she held her, she knew she loved her. Shreya loved to take care of her and talk about girl stuff, going shopping and having silly moments. Shreya was like a second mother and role model to Yasemin and are very close, even after Shreya marries Kevin Farrell and forms her family with him

Distant cousin: Luke Battersea

A bit closer in age, despite him being prickly and reserved, Yasemin approached him slowly, allowing him to come to her, actively listening to whatever he talked about and giving surprisingly helpful advice and thoughtful gestures, such as baking him his favourite cake for his birthday or when he had a bad day, or ensure that the cook cooks his comfort food once a week, and include him in the family trips

Hogwarts

House: Hufflepuff

Best Class: Herbology

Worst Class: Potions

Boggart: Everybody diminishes her efforts, throwing them and shouting at her that she'll never be enough

Riddikulus: The papers get up and start dancing cha-cha-cha

Patronus: A hare

Patronus Memory: Dancing in the rain when she was eight with her father and Shreya as her mother film

Mirror of Erised: (before turning 19) Achieving peace and stability in her hometowns (after turning 20) having stability, peace and a family with Scott by her side

Amortentia (what she smells like): Victoria's Secret perfume 'shimmer', strawberry bubblegum, henna

Amortentia (what she smells): Ice, cologne, something related to Scott

Career

11-18: Hogwarts student

21-35: Philantropist

36-65: President of the Battersea company

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: Making some good in the world, her family's wellbeing

Strengths: Kind, empathetic, insightful, caring and generous

Weaknesses: Naive, clueless, innocent during her adolescence, way too trusting, a people pleaser and can't say anything bad about anyone

Stressed: During social gatherings and during exams, feeling stupid all the time

Calm/Comforted: Watching her comfort show (FRIENDS), spending time with Shreya, in her bed

Favorites

Colors: PINK, burgundy red, navy blue and lilac

Weather: Sunny

Hobbies: Reading, knitting, baking and creating skincare and makeup routines

Fashion: Yasemin is far more fashionable than her sister Shreya, often wearing heels and short skirts and tops, all in the palette of pink, black and white. She also has curly hair and has a rigorous routine that she always asks not to be interrupted when performing it

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: Scott Morris ( @potionboy3 )

Both friends from the moment they met, unlike her peers, Scott seemed to get her, and Yasemin always felt seen with him. What she didn't know is that Scott had a huge crush on her. A crush that everybody save her seemed to notice. For years, he dropped subtle hints here and there, but the clueless Yasemin didn't seem to see it.

Until, on a party, after sharing a meaningful moment, Scott surprised Yasemin by kissing her and declaring his feelings for her. What was more surprising to Yasemin is that she felt the same. Even though Yasemin was a year ahead of Scott, they saw each other often and even gave him the keys to her house once they became serious.

[MORE TBA]

Friends: Noor Verma Dhendron ( @legilimenace )

Even though they were different, Noor and Yasemin got along and suprisingly complimented one another. Shreya soon befriended Mansi, Noor's sister, and became inseparable, becoming almost members of the family

Mia Morris ( @gaygryffindorgal )

Scott's older sister, Yasemin liked her from the beginning and she was key in setting her up with her brother

[MORE TBA]

Jude Cozens ( @unfortunate-arrow )

Both with similar natures, she met him through Scott and also reminded her of Luke. She was shocked when she learned that he and Noor started dating

Yasemin is looking for friends! I'll favour those born in 2004-5! Hmu or send me an ask if you're interested!

Rivals: TBA (why would you want to antagonize this angel?!)

Trivia

She doesn't drink alcohol due to religious and personal reasons

Her drink of choice is a lime Aquarius

Always has a red velvet cake for her birthday

She hates green peas

Is surprisingly good at breakdance, salsa and dabke, and often does it in heels

Used to hate her curly hair and tried to straighten it like Shreya for most of her teens

While Shreya inherits her father's businesses, Yasemin inherits her mother's legacy

Is medium sized and was always made fun of by her parents' peers and went on crazy diets and developed body dysmorphia due to early development

Almost never went to parties because of people getting drunk and being invasive towards her

Cries easily for everything, yet can be calm in dire circusmtances

Picked up baking thanks to her therapist and often shows up to classes and gatherings with Turkish and Bengali sweets when she feels her friends are feeling down or stressed or wants to celebrate

Has the cutest and most elegant handwriting in Hogwarts (it was voted)

[dailyanarchistposts]

It’s pretty rough being an Israeli anarchist these days. On a good day you are dismissed as irresponsible and naive, ignorant of history and blind to reality while your dedicated, life-risking activities are, at best, an easily-absorbed tantrum in the Nanny State. And that’s on a good day. The normal treatment is a bit less savory. You are violently despised, branded a fifth column for Iran and al-Qaida, and all the beatings, tear-gassings and shootings you and your comrades endure are gleefully cheered on, alongside the usual calls to put the anarchists up against the wall.

In his May 24 “Power & Politics” column “Anarchy has its place”, Elliot Jager is just the man to give you a bit of both. After a rhapsody of belittling rhetoric designed to brand anarchists as irrelevant, we are back with the usual vitriol and bad faith: well-rehearsed cheap shots, stock phrases and smug moralizing alongside harangues of abuse and dehumanization of the enemy. Hate, not reason, is behind the accusation that Israelis who take direct action against the Segregation Barrier effectively aid those who would murder Israeli civilians. This is manipulative nonsense.

Get real — as if every publicly dismantled roadblock or hole in the segregation barrier isn’t closely guarded and soon repaired by contractors. At most we’re costing the state some money and man-hours. The main thing that happens is that everybody gets to see our weekly demonstrations violently repressed. Symbolic actions are only the most visible part of a much wider struggle that includes more sustainable actions, from interfaith dialogue to the accompaniment of olive harvesting to joint ecological projects, as well as demonstrations, publishing and educational work. The point of all this is not only to dismantle barriers but to get the army out of Palestine, dismantling the entire regime of occupation with its apparatus of death, imprisonment and confiscation. We are not interested in better managing of the conflict — we want to end it by reconciliation among enemies.

AND THAT’S just for starters. Jager invokes Leviathan, Hobbes’s metaphor for the State. It is the sovereign to which everyone supposedly cedes his autonomy, so as to avoid a war of all against all and a precarious life that is “nasty, brutish and short.” This is what we are told about human nature. Now tell me one thing: If you don’t trust people to get along without rulers, how can you possibly trust them to rule other people? Leviathan is not as Jager imagines it. The cadaverous beast is an artificial social machine of domination, with living human beings as operating parts. We all fuel the matrix of hierarchical and coercive institutions, and we can destroy it by constructing a new society from the grassroots even as we confront injustice. Leviathan speaks from the mouths of those who apologize for having lost faith in their capacity to make their own history. Those who know they can do so reject its easy lies. People with this kind of analysis don’t inhabit cafes and art galleries. And so when Israeli activists get out of their comfort zones and put their bodies on the line for the future, suddenly they’re a threat.

THERE ARE remarkable parallels here to the civil resistance to the withdrawal from Gaza — a self-organized, grassroots campaign of disobedience and direct action if there ever was one, brutally repressed by the forces of the state in the name of majority rule. Many anarchists, by the way, opposed the disengagement — as they would any armed unilateralism toward citizens or non-citizens under military occupation. The truth is that Israeli anarchists are demonized because their actions are coherent and bold. The joint Palestinian-Israeli struggle transgresses the fundamental taboos put in place by Zionist militarism. Alongside the living example of nonviolence and cooperation between the two peoples, the struggle forces Israeli spectators to confront their dark collective traumas. Israelis who demonstrate hand-in-hand with Palestinians are threatening because they are afraid neither of Arabs nor of the Second Holocaust that they are supposedly destined to perpetrate. Notice how everything comes out when the anarchists are vilified: the fear of annihilation, the enemy as a calculated murderer, and victims’ guilt expatiated through the assertion of self-defense and just war as unexamined axioms. And this is threatening on a deeper level than any hole in the fence — but, then again, anarchists didn’t get their reputation as trouble-makers for nothing. Refuse communion at the edge of the Abyss. “Disimagine” this nightmare disguised as reality, where victims of victims victimize each other until one day we are all blown away to Kingdom Come.

We can still break out of the vicious cycle of drawing the justification for present atrocities from the living memory of the horrors of the past — if only we realize that in doing so we are playing into the hands of all those who mean to rule us. AS FOR ourselves, in manifesting our solidarity with Palestinians we have no intention of romanticizing their struggle, or of hiding our opposition to anyone who would rule the peoples of this land. Rather it is a question of starting to practice desertion, refusal, sabotage, attack against every violent authority, all coercive power, and every state.

[circulars-reasoning]

"CDD systems should have the ability to use the CDD related tags (did, OSDD, etc) without endogenic posts." i have two opinions about this

1- if a system does not want to see crosstagging they can block tags like endogenic, or block users. it's up to people to moderate their own experience for the most part.

2- what if there is a system who is endogenic (originally) but later developed a disorder like CDDs connected to their plurality? they deserve to use those tags. alongside just... posts about general systemhood stuff. like "haha when you have a fictive and they relate to their source" or similar posting that can relate to both disordered and nondisordered plurality. that can fit in the DID/OSDD tags.

(also "speaking as someone who has survived a major car crash that was caused by endogenic misinformation about my disorder." what do you mean?? car crash?? how did misinfo about concepts of selfhood affect the likelihood of a car crash?? car crashes happen because cars are dangerous, not because someone said "i think did is [x misinformation] actually")

1. It’s up to people to moderate their own experience, but people also have the right to be frustrated that they have to moderate their own experience because people can’t learn to tag correctly.

2. This hypothetical is so rarely the actual case and is a bad faith reading of the original post. People without CDDs are using the CDD tags to post in. This problem shouldn’t be brushed aside or ignored due to hypotheticals. Yes, I agree with this, but it’s not the point here.

And as for my car crash…

I think it’s incredibly bold of you to waltz into my inbox and suggest that my car crash just happened, and that it’s nobody’s fault (despite not knowing any of the circumstances leading up to this). What benefit would I, a pro-endo system who is constantly trying to convince people that endogenic systems exist, find in lying about what happened to me?

I don’t owe you anything. But I feel like this’ll be educational.

When I was in college, I was bought in by radinclus pro/endos who accepted my odd plurality (see here: completely normal DID experiences). They told me I wasn’t traumatized, that I couldn’t be because I was raised rich — so I accepted this, naively, and continued to go home from college (an hour long drive) every single weekend, back to the people who had emotionally and sexually abused me.

This hour long drive took quite the toll on me. It didn’t help that endogenic systems had convinced me that visualizing my ‘headspace’ was healthier than living in real life, because it made my ‘headmates’ more real.* This worsened my dissociation to the point that I never saw my own body as mine — I saw it through a screen, and oftentimes there was a delay to my actions due to the sheer amount of dissociation I was experiencing.

I was driving late at night down a 50mph road. It was foggy. My car doesn’t play well with fog, and the only way to handle it was to blast heat on the windshield. I was tired, because I had been awake for a straight 48 hours writing a paper, because for some reason, I had lost hours of my life to ‘zoning out’ (hint: alters switching in, resulting in amnesia).

But don’t worry, guys. Endogenic systems had my back. See, I’d been worried that year about how exhausted I was. Had I gone to a doctor, they would’ve informed me my vitamin D levels were dropping dangerously low, a fact I only learned 4 years later after I graduated and finally got blood work done. But I didn’t need to go to a doctor, the endos told me.

“Switching gives you energy! The headmate who comes in will be fresh because they haven’t been fronting! If you need to stay awake just a bit longer to get those papers done, you should ask someone else to switch in!!”

I was 19. I was actively being abused and convinced I wasn’t being abused (by endos). I was so dissociative that I was seeing my alters in real life (due to endos). I was triggering myself again and again and again to force switches by thinking out the only traumatic memories I could remember (because of endos).

I’m the specific alter who was fronting at the time of impact. I remember it really fucking clearly. I had just switched with Numb, and because of how I was visualizing at the time, I saw him next to me in the car. My husband was next to me, his hand on my shoulder. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw Sierra and Wade in the backseat, asleep on each other. Sie was asleep in Wade’s lap. Debbie was directly behind me, staring out the window, trying to ignore I was there.

Rice wasn’t included, because “that’s your core, and psychologists will force you to become like her.” She wasn’t important enough to my dissociative daydreaming. She was locked in her room for years (because of endos).

I remember thinking “this is so good. Here I am. My entire family is with me. I’m driving with them.”

That’s when I woke up, as I drove my car, going 50mph, into the back of a truck that was stationary. The truck had a family - a real, blood and flesh family, with three small children, a husband, and wife - who was turning into a development. Had I not hit the truck, my car and my sleeping self were moving directly toward oncoming traffic, which was also going 50mph.

Had I somehow missed all the cars, I would be driving into a ditch.

Hitting that car, in the exact way I did, at the exact time I did, was the only thing that saved my life that night. Count the lucky stars for small blessings, I guess.

Had I never been brought in by endogenic systems — had I never been fed such horrific misinformation and believed it, being the naive little shit I was who was clinging to anyone who could explain what was happening to me — I never would’ve gone home that night. I never would’ve thought switching gave me energy, like I’d convinced myself was true. I never would’ve gone back to people I genuinely hated while I was that tired, like I convinced myself they weren’t that bad, because “it’s not like they traumatized me.”

Yes. Car crashes happen because cars are dangerous. Clearly, there’s no deeper reasons why car crashes happen. Clearly, there’s no impact on the person who is driving making poor choices because of what they’ve been taught to believe.

And as a note about how fucking manipulative some parts of the pro/endo community was? The very same people who told me I wasn’t a real traumagenic system, the people who told me switching gives energy, the people who told me to ignore my alter because she was a ‘core’? Their response to my crash??

“Oh no >: I’m so sorry. Sometimes switching doesn’t work like that.”

First I’d ever heard of it. And yet, I remained in those circles and with pro-endos surrounding me for another 4 years.

So anon? Kindly fuck off and think about the fact that you just tried to explain to me that my car crash wasn’t anybody’s fault, when it absolutely was impacted by endogenic systems spreading misinformation to vulnerable traumatized survivors.

[danmeiconfession]

genre conventions anon

So many straw men in the comments. From claiming I want people to stop analyzing the book,to mentioning authors' comments,which I never did,to the usual "but wei wuxian doesn't deserve to be a hero either!". also something about him bottoming ? It's quite amazing how you can do complex textual analysis but fail to understand a simple ask. I believe that it's a reading in bad faith problem rather than a literacy one,but who knows.

Ok,first of all,if your textually grounded analysis has you reaching the conclusion "jgy is not comfortable working with xue yang" after reading the villainous friends extra,then your argument that you only care about text is null. That's exactly why I say you are lying with your whole chests. I'm not going to send a wall of examples but there are at least 5 moments,in the actual text of the novel(which you claim to care about),which point to the opposite: except for the literal throwing in the cage,jgy is quite an active participant to the cruelty that happens there. Cherry-picking just two scenes: the tongue tea rejection and one moment of jgy calming his nerves,and omitting almost the entire extra because it does not match your agenda is what I mean by intellectual dishonesty. It's not 'thoughful analysis' or 'defying genres'.

Of course the classic defense is gonna be "but wei wuxian!!". That's why genre conventions matter and why I made the first post. If I pick up a book titled the grandmaster of demonic cultivation that is about a guy raising corpses,I expect the guy to be demonic and clearly not a pure angel. I already have preferences of the types of characters I will root for,because I know what genre I am CHOOSING (out of hundreds of genres available). Yes,there is plenty of xianxia with actual evil or far more morally gray protagonists. The difference is that xianxia also often contains characters like Wei Wuxian or Xiao Xingchen. Those would not be given such a strong voice in a more classic lit genre,as they would only be described as naive fools(both) or unhinged violent madmen(wwx). In a different genre,it would not be at the centre of their narratives that these two are,at their core,idealists who want to help people.

In the case of MDZS,I know before reading which type of character flaws I will enjoy vs the ones I will not. Killing 1000 cultivators and torturing Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao might be worse crimes in real life,but in this fictional world,for me these actions are emotionally justified forms of revenge or self-defense,enjoyable to watch and far preferable to something like Jin Guangyao enabling Xue Yang, or Xue Yang tricking Xiao Xingchen. Basically,evil I cannot personally enact in real life VS. evil I am capable of. I also chose the novel with a main character I might like,it's not that I like him just because of his protagonist halo.

Also because of genre conventions,if I pick up Succession to watch,I will not complain about people being duplicitous or manipulative. There,I would root for the Jin Guangyao-like characters,and find them heroic. But to look at something like mdzs,unapologetic in its belief that following your principles MATTERS,even if all it gets you is being cast off from society, and complain that the hero and villain should be switched is not reading the room at all... If you switch them it would become a different novel,and I wouldn't love it so much.

I actually have a love-hate relationship with JGY,and I'm quite content with letting both those emotions flow at the same time. More emotional enrichment for me. But when reading something like MDZS,I rather want to experience the imaginary fantastic evil of torturing the killer of your entire family,instead of experiencing and empathizing with the banal evil of JGY's lies. I want to see how a two-faced politician shielding a criminal who tortures innocents for fun is finally exposed. I also feel more strongly for the characters that will break than for the ones that will bend and survive at all costs. I see these 'I had no choice!!' JGY-like guys every day. For once,I want to be allowed to NOT empathize with them.

Also,coming into a foreign country genre with established tropes and claiming your western interpretation is how you make the genre cooler and better and that the author is irrelevant...yeah. That part especially does make me sick. I tried to ignore this but the venn diagram of people living in the US and those who position themselves as authority on what FEELINGS fans should have about a villain(only reasonable cold logical analysis allowed because otherwise you are the purity police or however you call it),has some significant overlap after all.

What you in your US American ignorance won't get,is that your culturally-specific redeemability discourse is irrelevant to me. I DO NOT care who is morally pure and who is morally evil on some abstract 'rational' scale. I am reading this book,in this specific genre,for my own emotional enrichment and catharsis. Talking about it as if I'm about to be graded on how morally neutral or empathetic to antagonists I am,is not what I'm here for. That's why I said open up your mind. Not everyone approaches fiction from an 'undergrad literary analysis course' point of view,and your culture is not universal.

.

[azzandra]

I don't think I realized how wide-spread video-game like "systems" were as a literary device until I started reading transmigration stories (and, ok, transmigration stories aren't the only ones, but for some reason it does seem to pop up a lot in this genre). I haven't yet encountered a story that does the meta thing of actually delving into where this pseudo-game UI thing originates, though I'm sure there's plenty out there (if nothing else, when the trope gets lampshaded, transmigrators will often make reference to things they've read in other stories).

However, I will confess that every time a system appears in a story, I like to picture that behind the scene there is like, a huge call center where customer service employees sit in their own little cubicles and tap away at their computers, providing system users with service.

This especially accounts for the disparity between systems' usefulness in stories: in some they are an active hindrance, locking users into a set of behaviors and penalizing them for trying to stray from the script. In others, the system acts as an overpowered god-like machine showering the user in perks and advantages and deus ex machina-like interventions at every turn. In most stories, systems fall in the middle, where it's a mixed bag of advantages and drawbacks.

Now, I personally like to believe that how helpful a system is depends on how helpful the customer support agent behind the scenes is feeling.

Because I'm just picturing the, like, progression of one of these agents as they begin all rosy-cheeked and naive and wanting to be so gosh-darned helpful! So they keep tweaking everything in their user's favor, granting them OP junk and bending the plot for them in every way, until the user gradually becomes an asshole and spirals out of control and just makes a huge fucking mess of everything.

But that's fine, probably. That happens. Uhhh... our nice agent doesn't lose their faith in humanity! Even when the cynical colleague one cubicle over snorts and says what happened is fairly typical, our intrepid agent will prevail and help their next user with reaching a happier ending! So they go in on their new case, maybe dial back on the overenthusiastic bonuses and--uh... this one gets killed horribly through a mix of overconfidence and bad decisions. Hm. Okay, okay, it's fine next one is going to be just--aaaand this one becomes a manipulative, tyrannical asshole.

Okay, it's-- maybe it's just the quests. Gotta give out quests that encourage good morals! ...and now this user became a puritanical judgmental busybody.

Eventually, it's hard not to become even a little cynical, you know? What's the lesson here, that given even the least bit of power over others turns people into monsters?

New tack then! If helping doesn't work, let's give these users something to work for! No free shit, they gotta EARN their currency! They think they're so lucky? Bam! Every time they think things are going well, Murphy's Law comes to beat their ass like they owe it money! You want a quest? "Don't die, moron", there's your quest. You get five points if you survive. Spend that in the shop, dipshit.

And for a while, this maybe seems like a better attitude to take. The users are forced into rising to the occasion or suffering catastrophic consequences. With their leashes being shorter, they can't derail the story or the intended narrative as much. Some may even reach the desired outcome, albeit the road is hard.

But all the punitive quests, the limitations and the meager rewards take their toll on most users. Some make mistakes they never recover from. A lot fail, hard, in painful, deadly ways. And the agent grows increasingly uncomfortable as they realize the users being subject to all this become like rats in an experiment, constantly terrified of getting zapped for even twitching the wrong way. The system becomes not a tool, but an enemy, a monster, a strange thing to overcome. The agent gets, on more than one occasion, a screen blowing in their face when a user manages to attain some power that allows them to unshackle themselves.

And hey, the agent has other problems too! Like, the manager is always on them about their metrics, because they're not hitting the goals and they're dragging the whole team down!

So maybe the agent loosens up a bit. Maybe they recalibrate and try to balance out their attitude towards the users before they burn out completely.

And by the time some newbie agent comes to fill up the cubicle next to theirs, they'll have some wisdom to pass down.