#the most euphemistic euphemism ever to eupheme

[pigeonwhumps]

Kidnapping

Kidnapped masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @fuckcapitalismasshole @ghost-whump @whump-tr0pes

@rainbowsandwhumperflies @whumpinggrounds @actress4him @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds

@a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

AI-less Whumptober alt 8: kidnapping

(I am absolutely not writing these in order lol, I needed to fit them into the story. Also this one is mostly background I think)

Phoenix discovers that Brynn has gone missing.

2k

CWs: hero whump, panic, uncontrolled transformation, assumed kidnapping, past abuse and whump, nightmare, asshole managers

“Phoenix.”

Phoenix looks around in their dream, very confused. That voice, coming from the roof of the shed, there shouldn’t be anyone there.

“Phoenix!”

Phoenix jolts upright with a gasp. It takes them a moment, but then they see the string of coloured lightbulbs, the light-up sign, the glow-in-the dark stars on the ceiling, feel the weighted blanket wrapped snugly around them. They're not in the shed. They're not in the shed.

“Phoenix! Get down here, we need to speak to you!”

Phoenix flinches, and then– oh. It's Wildfire. They throw a hoodie on and hurry downstairs.

The cell block is cold tonight, but they hover around the entrance anyway, red lantern shining off the brickwork. Wildfire looks agitated in it, tracking Phoenix urgently.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sovereign has escaped.”

Phoenix staggers back a few steps. Sovereign. Escaped. No.

“When? How? Brynn– I–”

“Three days ago. The guards were discussing it. I thought you should know.”

“Right. I, um, thank you, I– I should–”

“Go!”

And Phoenix bolts. Straight back up to their flat, flying into their room and ignoring any commotion, dialling the number because if Sovereign's out that means he'll be coming for them, he'll be coming for Brynn because she double-crossed him and nobody lives to tell that tale.

Brynn's phone goes straight to voicemail. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck no.

Gemma. They can try Gemma.

She picks up after a few rings.

“Hello?”

Her voice is groggy and Phoenix immediately feels guilty.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to, um, wake you up, but do you, um, is Brynn there? And can I, um, can I speak to her?”

“Phoenix?”

“Yes, sir?”

“It is you then. She left yesterday, to surprise you by coming back early. Did she not arrive?”

Phoenix's heart skips a beat. No. No. This can't be happening. They can't lose her.

“No. No, um, no, she didn't. And Sovereign's escaped and–”

“Sovereign's escaped?” Gemma sounds alarmed, and far more awake now. “When?”

“Three, um, three days ago. And they didn't tell us and Brynn–”

“I understand. They didn't say anything to us either. I'll keep my eyes peeled for Brynn, but your contacts will probably be more useful.”

Phoenix nods, then remembers Gemma's on the phone. “Right. Thanks. You, um, thank you.”

“Call me if there's any updates.”

“I, um, I will.”

They say their goodbyes and Phoenix dashes out and up the fire escape, heading for the roof. Because Gemma's right, their contacts are more useful.

They're just not sure exactly how to reach him.

It's crossed their mind before that he might have the place bugged. They've never been sure how to feel about it, but right now, they cross their fingers and pray to everything they no longer believe in that he does.

“Electrocus!”

They scream their call to the cloudless sky, a desperate plea for the only person who might be able to help. Because Brynn is missing, and Sovereign's out, and the only person who might have a clue where they are is another villain.

They watch the skyline, fists clenched. Come on, come on, please let him be spying.

They watch.

And watch.

He’s not coming. He’s not coming.

They look down, blinking hard. He didn't hear. He doesn't care. He's not coming.

There's a soft thump behind them.

Phoenix spins around, heart leaping to their throat. “Electrocus?”

And there the supervillain stands, arms crossed, weight shifted to one side. Silhouetted against the streetlights.

“Firebird. Who do I need to kill?”

Phoenix flinches slightly at the strong voice. They still haven't quite worked out whether he'd do that for them.

“Sovereign's out. I think he, um, he's kidnapped Green Raptor. Have you, um, have you heard anything?”

“No. But there have been… rustlings. Among the villain community.”

Phoenix swallows hard. They don't know what these rustlings could be, but if Electrocus hasn't heard anything… how are they supposed to find her?

Electrocus steps forward and squeezes their shoulder. “I'll keep my eyes and ears open. We might hear something.”

“Thank you,” they choke out. Not the answer they were looking for but… maybe. Maybe there's still time. Maybe Sovereign will do something stupidly obvious.

Yeah, that last isn't likely.

He steps back, nods, and they turn their back for him to disappear. They don't know how he arrives on or departs from HAL’s rooftop and out of respect for them both it's a secret that's kept.

Phoenix wipes their eyes as they descend the metal stairs and enter back through the broken door (thankfully, it hasn't locked automatically for as long as they've known it). They just want to curl up and cry, but they can't. They can't. If Sovereign has Brynn, their team is probably next, and they need to tell someone. The door slams shut behind them and they stand there, uncertain, all their brain on Brynn, Brynn, Brynn.

“Phoenix? Come in, Phoenix, what's wrong?”

Phoenix blinks. Warm, steadying hands on their forearms. Santhiya's face in front of theirs, brow pinched in concern.

They try to shape the words, to convey, somehow, the depth of what's happened.

“Brynn. Sovereign.”

_

“...and you didn't think to tel us that the supervillain who we helped capture, who Brynn defected from, has escaped? You didn't even think to tell Brynn?”

Phoenix huddles under the blanket against the sofa and watches as Kai paces, phone to his ear, looking increasingly frustrated.

“You thought– why would she do that? How would she do that, she betrayed him! He'd kill her! Just because you can't conceive that someone might have a change of heart– yes. Yes, she's disappeared.” Huh. Phoenix didn't know Kai could grow claws when not in wolf form. “Fuck you. Fuck you, if that's your assumption! She's a member of my team, she's a good person and has made amends, she's been a hero for years now and your takeaway is that maybe she’s joined Sovereign again just because she was once his sidekick? That she can't have changed her mind despite how she helped arrest him? Fuck you.” He pants. “Yes, sir, I apologise, but– I– yes. No, we're not just going to leave them! And–” Kai listens, and then growls, wolf-like. “No. No, if we need to go after them, when we do it, it won't be for an arrest, or questioning, because we don't operate on assumptions of guilt. She helped us arrest Sovereign, what more do you need? For her to not have been adopted and abused by him in the first place, since she was a small child? God. We're not arresting her.” Another, longer pause, in which Kai twitches violently, his nose seeming to start lengthening. “We're rescuing her. I won't leave a member of my team to be arrested over bullshit. You can always order us not to go, or put us on probation, but we can resign, sir, and I know that Phoenix Costello and Santhiya Choudhary, for two, are willing to if you keep trying to stop us from doing our jobs. Everyone is worth rescuing, they're worth second and third chances, and I'm not going to let you stop us rescuing Brynn.” His ears, changing shape and colour, twitch. “Yes. Thank you, sir. You'll inform us of any developments? Thank you.”

Kai drops the phone and growls.

“Management didn't tell Brynn because they thought she might see how powerful Sovereign is and decide to join him.”

“What? But that's, um, that's not– she wouldn't! And, um, and any of us could do that. Just because she used to be a villain?”

Kai nods. Phoenix pulls the blanket tighter around themself, hiding what they're sure must be messed up patterns on their arms by now. If anyone knew how close they'd been to joining Electrocus that one time… and not even because he was a villain, just because he cared. They'd deserve their punishment but even so, they don't want management ever finding out.

“Gemma had lots of shouting matches with management over me,” says Morfydd, dumping cinnamon into the hot chocolate pan and stirring. “They didn't like that I came from Razor originally.”

“Assholes,” grumbles Lian, setting the mugs down with more force than necessary. “As if you'd have been more loyal to someone who did experiments on you and tried to shoot you.”

More and more, Phoenix wonders why they don't just leave. Just get up and walk out of here. But they can't – people are relying on them. There's no point in them if they're not going to be a hero.

They hum in agreement. They hate this. And Kai is– Kai is–

Santhiya kisses them on the forehead. “What's on your mind?”

They nod at Kai, whose claws have definitely lengthened. “Wolf.”

“Oh yeah. He did that when your secondment got increased too. Er, Kai? Claws?”

Kai looks down at his hands with visible surprise. Clearly his senses haven't started changing yet then. Are physical changes first?

“Oh.” With what looks like enormous effort, the claws shrink back into his hands, and his nose and ears go back to normal. He blushes. “Sorry.”

Santhiya glances at Phoenix, squeezing them tight. “It's fine. We need to talk about Brynn, and not losing anyone else.”

Kai nods, pacing. Lian and Morfydd bring over hot chocolate, sitting down together. Phoenix curls their hands around their mug, taking a gulp. It's scalding. Good.

But Morfydd’s hot chocolate is definitely not something to punish themself with, so they try to just nurse it for a while. It feels nice.

“We need to pair up,” says Kai decisively, “like we’ve done before. One pair and one three now, I guess. We each have a specific person to look out for. And if we have to leave the flat we don’t do it alone.”

“We should, um, call Aaron too,” adds Phoenix quietly. “They're, um, part of the team and Sovereign probably, um, probably knows.”

He's very dear to Brynn. Phoenix knows he was the first person she trusted here, and if Sovereign finds out just how important he is to her…

Kai nods. “Good idea. You'll do that?” Phoenix nods, already pulling out their phone. “One more thing. The trackers, from the time with The Chosen Ones. Do you still have yours, Phoenix?”

Phoenix shudders, blinking hard to banish the memories. “No, sir. It um, I was, um, it got lost.”

They worry Kai will want to know more but he just nods again. “Right. We’ll figure something out. Everyone else, put yours on. I know Sovereign is likely to remove them straight away but… just in case.”

Just in case. Just in case Sovereign infiltrates, or blows up a wall, and kidnaps one of them.

Of course, being in pairs won’t help if both of them are kidnapped. Would that be better or worse?

Lian stands abruptly. “I'm going to cook. If I sit here doing nothing I'll go mad. I can't help being angry at Brynn but she wouldn't betray us again. That's a stupid excuse management are using because they don't like that she used to be a villain. And I can't just sit here while they try to do what they would've done to Morfydd if it hadn't been for Gemma. They take ex-villains because it looks good but they can't deal with fucking nuance. So I'm going to cook.”

“They’d’ve liked me to disappear,” explains Morfydd quietly. “I wasn't a hero or a civilian, so.”

Phoenix shivers. They're close enough to villains that if anyone found out…

If Gemma helped Morfydd, maybe there’s something they could do to help people more. Before they get to medbay. Maybe Aaron will know. Or Gemma, but they… she’s still a bit of an unknown.

Not now, though. Later. After Brynn is back home safe.

They clutch Santhiya tightly, watching as Morfydd disappears into the kitchen and Kai sinks down to the ground, running his hands over his face. They don't want to lose anyone else.

Please don't let them lose anyone else.

[vidavalor]

Polari

@camdenleisurepirates mentioned Polari & Ineffable Husbands Speak, so some thoughts on that below.

I think that C&A know how to speak Polari but the most common Polari words aren't in their language as much so far I don't think-- only because Polari is meant to sound exclusionary while C&A are hiding their cant vocabulary in words that wouldn't raise alarm bells for anyone listening to them.

They know a lot of stuff that influenced Polari and ties into it a bit, like the slang of seamstresses and sailors, which are part of their speak, but saying anything like "bona" and "vada" and "omi-palone" and the like on the bench in St. James' Park, etc. was out for them or the ducks watching them would have figured out something was up.

There are a couple of Polari words that overlap with their language that they seem to be using at least a little, though. The slang of a cottage and cottaging in gay communities is also part of Polari and Crowley & Aziraphale not only know exactly what that means but it also fits into their speak easily and I'd wager they will be smirking about it in relation to their South Downs cottage for some time. It's probably a word we'll hear on different levels in S3.

To "do a turn" in Polari and sailor's slang is one way to refer to having sex. The presumption has been that it comes from the theatrical world and doing a turn on stage. (Rather amusingly, C&A are literally doing a turn on stage during their Big Damn Sexual Euphemism Bullet Catch performance in S2.) Crowley uses "turn" euphemistically in this way in 2008 in 1.01. It's actually euphemistic on two different levels-- the Polari/sailor's slang level and also a joke related to the meaning of crepes in his and Aziraphale's speak.

Polari does have a lot of food euphemisms but not really overlapping with C&A's way that much & not to the same extent (to be fair, it'd be hard for any slang to get anywhere close to the same extent lol.)

It's not specifically Polari but kind of Polari-adjacent coded language but some gay men in England in the 1950s would refer to looking for gay erotica as looking for "American" magazines/books, etc. because that had just begun to be imported from the U.S. at the time. One aspect of the use of "America"/"American" in C&A's speak is in a coded way referring to not just to the idea of freedom in general (though, that too, for sure) but to sexual freedom, which is likely tied to how that was coded language for gay men in London historically at one point. While they still use America/American that way at times, they love their food euphemisms more when it comes to their erotica collection, which Aziraphale referred to as the "cookbook section" in GO: Lockdown. (I'm still laughing over that. 😂)

This one isn't Polari in origin, either-- as it came before it-- but, in Molly slang in the 1700s, the phrase "pleasant deed" was used to describe sex between male partners. It is thought to have possibly originated prior to being used by the Mollies but exactly when & where is unknown, so... technically, it or something *very* close to it could have been around in, say, 1601 😉... in case you ever got the same vibe from this that I do:

There's also that brandy is Polari & Cockney Rhyming Slang for ass and Crowley, when talking about Jane Austen in S2, says that she was a "brandy smuggler." The Napoleonic Wars were happening at the time so the "brandy" in question is actually French brandy-- the term for which is really cognac. (Aziraphale is drinking cognac-- a much more current bottle of Courvoisier-- in GO: Lockdown.) I'm sure that Jane really did have a whole scheme going where she was getting black market cognac into England during the war-- there's always the literal and then the wordplay level in GO-- but for Crowley to refer to Jane as a "brandy" smuggler in S2 might maybe suggest that Jane was also involved in facilitating some clandestine and gay shenanigans? The phrase "brandy smuggler" alone fits C&A's speak independently of any of the other connotations as brandy is alcohol (with the word 'randy' in it, no less lol) and one part of the origin of the word smuggle is "to eat secretly"-- food & alcohol being two of the most common euphemisms for them.

There's one more off the top of my head that is more like a joke about Crowley knowing Polari than actual use of the words itself but it is tied into a couple of Crowley & Muriel scenes in S2. In Polari, there are a bunch of phrases that mean "the police" and one of them is "orderly daughters." At the same time, to "order" in Polari is to orgasm.

Muriel shows up at the door and identifies themselves as a human police officer so insistently that they tell C&A at one point that their name is "Inspector Constable." Crowley makes some jokes that he knows only Aziraphale will understand about how some cops make a "hobby" out of spying on queer people. Later on, when Crowley has Muriel arrest him to get to Heaven, the jokes he's making that are all going over Muriel's head are all related to what will "take him to Heaven"-- some things that will get him to "order", in Polari. This all works without the Polari already but it's also kind of as if Crowley's wordplay-happy mind is turning over "orderly daughters" and "order" and that's part of why he's amusing himself by self-deprecatingly telling cop Muriel that if they throw the cuffs on him and word him a bit ("you just say 'blah blah blah...''), he'll order in no time.

I'm sure there's more but that's what I've noticed so far. 😊

[artistsfuneral]

Hi Hope you're doing ok and having fun! Never even knew Coral Island existed but it looks like a dream farming game??? 😳 I wanted to ask, is there any news on the Lambert time-travel AU front? 🥺👉👈

Coral Island is really fun so far - BUT only consider buying it on PC, there's a bit of a problem with the company, so there won't be any updates/bug fixes for any other consoles atm - I love Stardew Valley, but CI just feels so much more lived in! The characters are amazing and I am still not over the fact that they make sense (they have jobs, go to work, there's a school for the kids, some leave for a season, etc. they don't just stand around all day with the same 5 lines of dialog)

As for the Lambert tt fic

he is aboooooooout to meet baby Geralt and Eskel (he doesn't know it yet) but I am taking a small break rn, so I can come back and edit things. So far it's a lot of world building that will be important for later, but I feel like I need to add more feels.

Lambert is still a bit ooc atm, because he is older in this fic and has mellowed out (he's also very op but that will also make more sense later) which is maybe the reason why I am struggling with adding feels? He's still trying to find his place in KM (he's never experienced it this full) so he doesn't really act like himself just yet.

There's probably going to be three or four more big scenes before the first act is done. But I am not going to post anything yet, because I am a sloooow writer. (painfully aware of my tendencies to not finish long fics) So let me feed you random sentences, to keep you hooked ❤👀

Gardening is perhaps the most euphemistic euphemism for grave robbing that Lambert has ever encountered.

What crazy fucker goes around blowing up the forest?

Besides, he's meeting with the council of the Wolf school today, an extra dagger wouldn't do any harm.

Even in the end, when Lambert was the only one left of his cohort and was standing alone in the courtyard with a brand new medallion around his neck, he never thought twice about it.

[adultswim2021]

Xavier: Renegade Angel #8: “Escape from Squatopian Freedom” | December 24, 2007 - 12:00AM | S01E08

What was hotter than Burning Man in 2007? Saul, Lucy, and now Xavier have all had Burning Man style fun. Who will be next? Did I forget anyone? Gosh, I hope not.

Xavier meets a punk juggler named Puggler, who brings him ‘round to his home Squatopia; a swath of town taken over by anarchist squatters. Puggler ganks Xavier’s significant crystal, which we learn from a flashback was given to him by his father before his untimely passing at the hands of a mysterious arsonist. It’s really not that mysterious; teenage Xavier is able to get the answer from his charred pop when he asks dad who set the fire that killed him. “Our son” dad chokes out before losing his head (literally). Xavier mistakes this word for “arson”. Like usual, Xavier is oblivious to the answer even when it’s spoonfed to him. I believe we see Xavier start the fire in a set of flashbacks in the first episode, lest you think this is some kind of absurd misdirect.

Puggler is proudly “too unique to pay rent”, but his pal ‘Tude is getting cabin fever from all the freedom he’s experiencing. He needs Xavier to break him out, even though he’s free to leave. If he were to leave, he would be making a choice, and he just can’t take that heat. Xavier agrees to help, but only if ‘Tude agrees to take him to Burning Man, where Puggler ran off with his crystal. But first, Xavier needs to make like the other squatters and “sell his seed”. Xavier comes up with other unpleasant euphemisms, such as “hawk my logie” (very funny and hella rude). The resulting jack sesh births one of the most disgusting creations to ever be on Adult Swim; a gigantic single sperm that acts like a friendly dog. I recall multiple friends of mine being so nauseated by this gag that I wouldn’t be surprised if they never revisited the episode because of it. I think he’s cute.

They dig their way through the original underground railroad and find an actual Civil War era slave. The addition of the slave is obviously meant to juxtapose an anarchists’ idea of euphemistic modern “slavery” with what slavery actually was. This episode has a civil war era slave, a sperm dog, and Speed Levitch, making his triumphant return to Adult Swim since being either Stroker or Hoop, I forget which. This episode basically has everything.

This one ends with a lotta people getting burnt to a crisp thanks to Xavier’s sperm dog, whom he considers a son. When emergency responders on the scene wonder out loud of it was “arson”, Xavier replies “no, it was MY son”. Man, what a great joke. This is a good one, Speed Levitch’s participation notwithstanding.

MAIL BAG

tactical reasons?  boo hoo hoo hoo

Hey, come on

[philosophicalparadox]

For me, whether it's cringe depends entirely on whether the character in question would ever actually refer to their own or someone else's body that way. Even while ridiculously horny there are lines a certain character would never dare to cross even in their own head.

Anyone from any time era referring to their penis as a "cock" is nearly always acceptable because that is the oldest known word (in English anyway) for it. A bit raunchy in some circumstances, but is that not the point of most sex scenes?

However, a very logic-oriented, emotionally detached, cool as a cucumber in May character that speaks in very polite, formal words and never really breaks that streak is probably also going to use terms for a penis that are somewhat vague or formal.

An immature, easily embarrassed, shy character is probably either gonna go clinical with it or be as vague (and maybe childish) in their euphemisms as possible.

A total dickwad with nary a care or a character that uses foul language on the regular could probably get quite dirty, cringey or creative with it.

The types of partner they have can matter too, and how they interact with them. An immature but super calm person thinking about the body part of their partner (male, female, or anything else) probably wouldn't hesitate to use something neutral like "cock" or "cunt" (the oldest word for the vagina, by the by) but if they're trying to mention it to said partner they might be a lot more euphemistic if said partner is insecure or shy about it, unless they're a dense blockhead or don't care.

writing smut like

how many synonyms for “penis” do I actually know?

[mostly-mundane-atla]

@paragonrobits @veryever alright, here we go. Technically-not-swears to give your writing a punch that "oh spirits" does not.

@terulakimban, @mikaslilworld, and @589ish were asking for this too so I'll mention them so that they're sure to see it.

Adjectives:

Misbegotten. Implying that someone is of questionable parentage is generally seen as in poor taste at best or incredibly insulting, vulgar "fighting words" at worst.

Cursed. Implying something or someone has done something deserving of a curse and have all the bad luck and unpleasantness that comes with it. Probably the most mild example here.

Damned. Considered more severe and material than "cursed" and often refers to a spiritual sentence or a fated misfortune. Whether or not this is an actual swear can depend on the person and the circumstance.

Poxy. This one is a little spicy because while on the surface it's just referring to illnesses like smallpox, cow pox, or chicken pox, historically, it referred to what English speakers euphemistically referred to as "the French pox" aka syphilis.

Nouns:

Animals. Referring to someone as an animal, especially one associated with unsavory personality traits (snakes and rats come to mind as a prime example), is often considered insulting and even dehumanizing. Note that asses and jackasses are actual animals and how off-limits those words are entirely depends on context

Witch. Often used in place of "bitch" becsuse it rhymes and can be used just as insultingly.

Scum. Refers to just about any icky substance that won't go away

Son of a ____. Insulting one's parentage is again in poor taste or straight up fighting words. The blank can be filled by anything: animals, unpleasant or unwanted things, people of any profession considered disgusting or demeaning. Have fun with it.

Inupiat words:

Honestly, if a fantasy version of Inupiat live in this world (and given two characters from this fantasy culture are named after Inupiat villages in Alaska, specifically, I'm going to specify Inupiat and will appreciate it if folks don't generalize it as Inuit) it only makes sense for Inupiat words to be used in other parts of the world. Influence and cultural exchange doesn't have to be a one way street where the "more advanced" only affect the "less advanced" and indigenous languages have always left traces behind.

Inupiat culture, and therefore language, is very matter of fact. Euphemisms aren't really used because no topic is really considered "too dirty" to talk about with any particular group. Insults are a way of showing love and familiarity. Offense is mainly conveyed through tone and context.

The phrase "anak niģiiñ" (anak meaning "poop," niģi meaning "eat," and -iñ being a suffix which in this case makes a verb a command aimed at one person) has been suggested as an Inupiat translation for the English phrase "eat shit." The words themselves are not bad words as you may think of them; the insult comes instead from how they're used to express anger at and disdain toward the person. Lots of words can be used this way, including any of the words for hell or for things I've alluded to on this post already.

If you're worried about this coming off as appropriative or insensitive, you may be lacking some cultural context for this to feel at home. Feel free to read through my "eskimo on main" tag for inspo on that. I'm willing to answer any other questions you may have as well, though be warned, I'm not exactly the quickest at responding.

Getting Creative - Basic Mode - Curses and Oaths:

We call bad words curses because at one point, they were exactly that. You were cursing someone and that was the greatest offense of it. Common curses include wishing death, illness, or injury on someone, sometimes milder but still unpleasant or uncomfortable experiences to befall them, and more rarely things like natural disasters. In a fantasy universe with fantastical abilities and animals, there are plenty of opportunities to customize this format into something exclusive to the Avatar verse.

An oath, in this sense, is a literal swear. English speakers may be familiar with "I swear on my mother's grave" or the more serious "for the love of god" being said when one is confronted. Here the offense comes from something sacred being invoked so flippantly. I think this is what people are trying to go for with "oh spirits" but it falls short for a few reasons. It doesn't invoke any one thing specifically. Anything can be a spirit and a spirit can take the form of anything. Are you invoking spirits of gentle breezes or torrential downpours? Of tadpoles or lions? Saying something like "by Koh's stolen faces!" or "lightning strike me down!" will make more of an impact than "Oh spirits" ever will.

Getting Creative - Advanced Mode - In-Universe Reference as Self-Censoring:

This one can be a little difficult to figure out, but it's probably my favorite one. Basically, you come up with, say, a historical incident or a bit of media that the people in-universe would know about because of its vulgarity. You don't have to explain it, because the whole point is that the audience doesn't know, just the characters. And you have the character's reference it to suggest vulgarity without having to spell any of it out. Allow me to provide an example:

"And then, well, let's just say I recited the last verse of The Earth Kingdom's Ode to the Firelord, almost word for word."

"The Kyoshi version?"

"The Omashu version!"

"And you got away with it?!?!"

Like most of them, this relies on the other character's reaction to sell it. It's loads of fun once you get it figured out because it feels like you got away with a lot when it's functionally just gibberish.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

What's your take on swearing as a christian? Also thanks for running this blog!!! i've weathered many a storm going through your FAQ and poetry tags,,,

i personally swear all the dang time!!! ...offline, that is. i say the f word at least 20 times a day haha. my opinion is this: if you choose to swear, be respectful in your swearing:

avoid swearing in front of kids, especially if you don’t know how their parents/guardians are choosing to raise them when it comes to swearing (you don’t wanna get them in trouble by teaching them a New Word lol) .

avoid swearing around people who have a reason to be uncomfortable with swearing (when i’m with someone new and am about to use a swear word, i’ll check in with them -- “are you okay with swearing?” If they aren’t, I don’t press them to tell me why -- I simply avoid swearing. Ya know, like a baseline decent human being) .

do NOT use slurs that aren’t aimed at an identity you belong to!! my white ass is never ever ever gonna use the N word. i also avoid the b word and c word because i’m not a woman. in my mind, slurs don’t even belong to the same category as swear words -- they’re way worse. (this should go without saying but ya know how people are)

i also recommend that you make a conscious decision about whether or not you want to swear at all and if so, in what situations. Don’t just sorta “fall into it” without giving it some thought, if possible. Do you want to be someone who saves swear words for Big Situations? Or do ya pepper ‘em into everyday sentences (like i do lmao) so that they lose a lot of their bite and are just kinda fun?

Gonna close this with a ~ Fun Bible Fact!!! ~ 

There are some swear words / instances of vulgar language peppered throughout the Bible!!

There is a word used in Judges 3:22 that is used nowhere else, and therefore scholars debate how to translate it. In the verse, my left-handed fave Ehud has just stabbed King Eglon in the abdomen, and הפרשדנה spills out from Eglon...whatever could that be? Some translate it euphemistically as “dirt.” But my seminary teacher (and I quite agree with her) argues that it is indeed a vulgar word for “shit.”  It makes sense that a vulgar swear word would be used in this passage because the whole story is dripping in irony and humor -- it’s a very irreverent story crafted to humiliate King Eglon. .

For more “shit” in the Hebrew Bible: I actually love this article from the Game for Good Christians site when it comes to the 6 uses of the Hebrew word peresh in the Bible. It does a great job of explaining how in 5 of those 6 uses, peresh ( “shit” ) is just used as like, a technical term -- talking about what to do with your bull’s shit (heh) in a sacrificial sense. But the sixth time, in Malachi 2:3, this word is clearly being used in a much more vulgar sort of way -- making it more logical to choose the word “shit” over “dung” or “poop” when translating it: “And now, O priests, this command is for you. If you will not listen, if you will not lay it to heart to give glory to my name, says the Lord of hosts, then...I will rebuke your offspring, and spread shit (peresh) on your faces, the shit (peresh) of your offerings, and I will put you out of my presence.” .

In Isaiah 64:6, meanwhile, the prophet laments that “our righteousness is like filthy rags” -- or so it’s commonly translated. However, that word “filthy” (or “stained”) is more specific in Hebrew: it’s about rags used during menstruation. So not a swear word, but pretty vulgar. .

Gendered slurs (like “whore”) are unfortunately pretty common among some of the prophets. i’m Not A Fan. (come AT me Hosea and Jeremiah i’ll FIGHT ya! Jeremiah you’re like 12, do you kiss your poor mother with that mouth!?) .

Paul himself uses a vulgar Greek word for shit!! In Philippians 3:8 he explains that everything that came to him before Christ he now regards as σκύβαλα (the accusative plural of the word σκύβαλον for any Greek lovers out there who wanna know how to say shit in the nominative form. Oh, and in our letters that’s skubalon.) Translators often pick a nice gentle word like “refuse” or at the very most “excrement” for this word....but nope, it’s a much terser word, no euphemisms in Paul’s writing here. It’s straight-up shit -- alternatively, I do love this translation I saw here: “I forfeited all things; and I consider them crap so that I may gain Christ.” .

Jesus, meanwhile, uses a slur -- *gasp!!* -- but don’t worry, he only names it to condemn those who use it against others (whew): “But I say unto you...whosoever shall say to his brother, Ῥακά (Raca), shall be in danger of the council: but whosoever shall say, Μωρέ (Moré), shall be in danger of hell fire” (Matthew 5:22). Scholars debate whether this term raca was A Very Bad Word or just a kinda mean one (similar to English words like “idiot” or “fool”). The Gospels are all in Greek, but this word raca is actually from Jesus’ own first language, Aramaic. And yeah, it seems to have mean something like “empty-headed.” Meanwhile that second term Jesus denounces, Moré, is in Greek -- the nominative form is μωρὸς (moros) and is where we get the word moron (a word that I avoid in English because it’s got a super ableist history, btw). Paul also uses this word μωρὸς in some of my favorite biblical passages, such as in 1 Cor 1, when he proclaims that God’s foolishness is wiser than any wisdom of human beings, etc. It’s good stuff but i’m just rambling now

[rivalsforlife]

i'm holding myself back from asking commentary on almost every scene from the catch up game bc i love so much how you wrote phoenix in that fic!! that said, could u do commentary on the last 2 scenes from the first chapter (party + gumshoe), if that's not too long or on parts of it if it's too much?

Sure thing!! The scenes on their own are already over 2000 words so I’ll put them under a keep reading for everyone’s peace of mind.

Alright let’s start then...

The bachelor party was beyond Phoenix’s expectations. He’d been expecting Edgeworth to be much stingier with the spending, considering his general attitude towards Gumshoe’s salary. But he’d agreed to rent the bar out and pay for one drink for everyone, plus transportation home for those who couldn’t do it themselves. Phoenix… was surprised, actually. He’d known for a long time now that Edgeworth appreciated Gumshoe much more than he let anyone know about, but it was still surprising to see in action.

this paragraph brought to you by My AAI2 Feelings, particularly the parts where Gumshoe really does come through in the investigations, so much that Miles actually gives him a salary raise at the end... it did a great job developing their friendship, I loved it a lot.

(Also I headcanon that after aai2 but possibly before that... every “I’m going to cut your salary!!” that Miles says does not actually result in a salary cut. poor gumshoe can barely feed himself as it is. but Miles can’t be, like... Nice about it so he’s just going to pretend. Gumshoe understands. it’s like an inside joke now.)

And honestly figuring out this whole party scene was such a pain. I still feel like it could be better but I’m not sure how? I just had the goal of “get someone to let it slip that Miles is in love with Phoenix” but then there was the issue of a) who knew Miles well enough to know this, and b) who knew Phoenix well enough to talk about it, and c) what circumstances would let them slip up and say it. The answer was Gumshoe because he can’t resist leaking information to the defense... even when it’s information about his boss’s personal life. oops.

Athena dropped by for a movie night, since Pearls was too young to attend. Phoenix wasn’t worried about them; he was sure they wouldn’t get into any more trouble than he and Maya could at the party.

OOF AWKWARD PARAGRAPH this is a remnant from when I shifted a lot of scenes around in this chapter. I thought it would be cute if Athena and Pearl were friends. And I think there was more to this but then it was distracting from the overall topic so I cut it out... resulting in this.

“Pals!” a familiar voice boomed at the entrance to the bar, and Phoenix soon found himself and Maya swept up in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so glad you both could make it!”

“Gumshoe!” Maya returned the hug enthusiastically. “It’s been forever, man!”

“Sure has!” Gumshoe released them, allowing Phoenix the opportunity to wheeze and clutch at his ribs, while Gumshoe ruffled Maya’s hair. “Been keeping yourself out of trouble?”

“You know it!”

“Uh, I had several sleepless nights last year suggesting otherwise,” said Phoenix.

“Shut it, Nick.” Maya elbowed him, not helping with the situation with his ribs, and beamed.

a little bit of banter that really just serves as a transition thing. most of the party is actually both “transition scene to indicate that the party did, in fact, happen before I get to the important stuff” and “introduce some important character stuff while I have time to fill”. 

and of course these sleepless nights are in reference to pretty much the whole plot of SOJ... 

One last note that I think Gumshoe probably gives great hugs, if you can survive your ribs potentially being crushed in the process. he doesn’t mean anything by it. he’s big and strong and likes hugs so much he forgets how big and strong he is.

... ps I love Gumshoe

“But congrats, Gumshoe! Seems like just last decade Nick and I were wandering around trying to pass your lunches over to Maggey.”

“God, it’s been that long, hasn’t it?” Phoenix reminisced. It was odd, thinking back on cases he took before he was disbarred, before he became a father to a daughter who wasn’t even with him today.

Gumshoe chuckled. “Guess so, pals. You two’ve really been there since the beginning, huh? Maggey and I wouldn’t be here today without you.”

Phoenix smiled. “Aww, Gumshoe…”

“And that’s why I get to be maid of honor, huh?” asked Maya with a sly grin.

“Maid of honor?!” Phoenix looked to Gumshoe, who didn’t object, before rounding back on his best friend. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“You didn’t ask!” Maya sighed. “If it weren’t for me eating Gumshoe’s beloved bento box in front of Maggey, who knows if we’d be here today?”

“I don’t think that was a deciding factor at any point…”

Gumshoe clapped Phoenix on the shoulder. “Sorry, pal. Would’ve made you the best man, but, y’know… Mr. Edgeworth.”

“Yeah, of course, no hard feelings, pal.”

“What’d I tell you about stealing my trademark, huh, pal?” Gumshoe laughed before stepping back into the bar. “C’mon in, you two.”

REALLY just more awkward transition scenes haha. Maya is the maid of honor in this fic mostly because I went to Maggey’s profile page and she was the only woman listed under the “friends” list... and we don’t know much about Maggey’s personal life. plus more “Miles and Gumshoe friendship” agenda pushing in here!

There were more people there than Phoenix was expecting, and many of them he hadn’t met. Edgeworth had mentioned that he would let Gumshoe select the guest list, but he’d kind of expected this to be people the two of them knew. Or, at least, that Phoenix knew — Edgeworth seemed to recognize more, which was rare, and was currently speaking with someone Phoenix vaguely recognized as an Interpol agent he’d worked with on a few cases back when Phoenix would help him out in Europe.

Ema ran up to them and made small talk before she and Maya got caught up in discussion about some show Phoenix had never heard of, so he wandered off to find someone else to talk with.

And there was… no one, really. Gumshoe and Edgeworth were talking with strangers, and Phoenix didn’t want to butt in on that conversation — he thought he saw Larry lurking about but couldn’t find him right now — and anyone else Phoenix recognized he either hadn’t talked to in years or was sure didn’t recognize him.

Phoenix hadn’t realized just how much his disbarment affected him, in these little ways. He looked out over the crowd of people Gumshoe or Edgeworth spoke to and had no idea who they were. It had been eight years out of touch with the rest of the legal world — eight years to fall behind.

It was… oddly lonely. Eventually it was just Phoenix standing there at the bar with a glass of grape juice in his hand. He was beginning to wish he’d ordered some more euphemistic “grape juice” instead.

You know that feeling when you go to a party and your one (1) friend leaves you and then you have no one to talk to and don’t know what to do -- maybe? That’s kind of the thing. slight Lang cameo in there.

ORIGINALLY Ema and Maya were going to talk about Lana and Mia and kind of hint at some Lanamia stuff in there, but then I thought about it and really why would Phoenix pass up an opportunity to gossip about his boss’s past relationships. 

And this also tries to kind of go for one of the general... “themes” of the fic? More of an exploration into Phoenix’s loneliness/how he copes with not having people around him. RFTA and JFA in particular kind of really entrenched that he Does Not Do Well without people to take care of -- which comes up a lot during this fic. And part of getting to explore those issues is essentially me trying to make Phoenix as alone as possible. ... sorry Phoenix! 

Also in here is a lot of “disbarment should have messed up Phoenix more than DD and SOJ would lead you to believe” -- he essentially spent seven years completely disgraced, it’s unlikely he made a lot of notable legal connections, aside from maybe Miles and Miles’ social circle. He probably missed out on a lot.

The last paragraph there is just referencing the “grape juice” thing - I do believe it is literal grape juice and not an alcohol euphemism, and I believe it was also literal grape juice in the original, so that’s what it ends up being.

“Hey, Niiiick…”

… But Phoenix supposed that just when you’re feeling down, the Butz arrives to drag you down further. “Hey there, Larry.”

Larry slumped against the bar beside him with a sigh, a glass of what definitely wasn’t grape juice in his hand. “Y’know Franzy didn’t even show up to this?”

“I’m not surprised. Being whipped half to death during your own bachelor party isn’t anyone’s idea of a good time, y’know?” In truth, he knew Franziska couldn’t make it down until just a few days before the wedding because of work — or so Edgeworth had told him — though he couldn’t help but wonder if Gumshoe was grateful for it.

Larry muttered something under his breath that sounded like it might’ve been contradicting Phoenix’s last statement, which Phoenix decided he was certainly not going to press further on, before Larry cleared his throat and continued. “But why’re you out here by yourself, Nick? Maya ditched you?”

“No, not at all,” Phoenix lied. “Just… taking in the scenery.”

“... Huh. Never took you for the wallflower type.” Larry frowned. “I mean, we did use to spend school dances in the corner by ourselves… guess some things never change.”

“Please don’t remind me of middle school ever again.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Larry, who then did. “But I get it, dude. I was kinda hoping for some more excitement here… more ladies…”

“Don’t worry Larry, I’m sure you’ll find someone else to pester tonight,” Phoenix commented dryly.

... enter Larry Butz.

I really did try to explore the relationships of all the important people in Phoenix’s life... Larry though is so insufferable in canon I didn’t really have the heart to fit him in, so he falls out. (Apollo also doesn’t show up much, aside from the bit in chapter 5, that’s because he’s in a different country and I couldn’t come up with much of a role for him.)

And I also do believe that Larry and Phoenix were super unpopular in school. Larry was... Larry, and Phoenix was probably very sensitive up until the Dahlia Incident, and together they had enough unlikable traits that anyone who could spend time with one wouldn’t want to hang out with the other, but the two of them were loyal to each other. It’s my headcanon that Phoenix’s only real close friends throughout his childhood were Larry and Miles, which is part of why he got so attached to Miles to change his career for him.

“Yeah.” Larry’s eyes scanned the crowd before landing on a woman with dark hair in a high ponytail, and his face brightened. Phoenix cringed preemptively.

“Little miss Kay!” Larry called out, as the woman looked their way. “Looking as cute as ever! And more grown up, too…”

Phoenix tensed, suddenly feeling the wrath of hell creeping up behind them.

“Larry Butz,” a deadly voice boomed, “if you go anywhere near her, I will sue you for everything you are worth, little though it may be.”

Larry jumped and spilled half his drink over his jacket. “Geez, Edgey,” he grumbled, scuttling off to find a napkin. Phoenix, hoping it was safe now with the target gone, turned back around to meet the glare of his other childhood friend. “Hey, Edgeworth.”

Larry being gross but more importantly: me pushing the Dadworth agenda! 

“You didn’t have to do that, Mr. Edgeworth,” said the woman with a laugh. “I’m an adult. I know how to effectively break someone’s kneecaps if they bug me.”

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. “Though I don’t necessarily disapprove, do we need to talk about avoiding criminal records again, young lady?”

“Sheesh, you’re still treating me like a kid,” she huffed, before noticing Phoenix and extending a hand. “Sorry about that! Kay Faraday. I’m Mr. Edgeworth’s assistant.”

Edgeworth gave an exasperated sigh, though Phoenix could detect a note of fondness to it. “You haven’t been my assistant for over ten years, Kay.”

“So you finally admit I was your assistant at some point!”

“Ngrk…”

Phoenix laughed and took her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Phoenix Wright, attorney at law.”

Kay grinned. “Oh, I know! Gummy debriefed me on you, Mr. That Man.”

“Kay,” Edgeworth warned.

“Plus I kept up with the news,” Kay continued, before Phoenix could say anything. “I’m a big fan of your work! Anyone who can take Mr. High-and-Mighty over there down a notch or two is a hero in my book.”

“Ha, I appreciate that.” Usually the first thing people said to Phoenix after saying they saw him on the news was much more negative.

I really still can’t believe Kay would be 27 here. that’s just so weird. she’s permanently seventeen in my mind. --- said by miles, probably

Even though this was supposed to be a fic about Phoenix’s important canon relationships Kay just wormed her way in here. I love her so I didn’t make any particular effort to take her out of this. Plus it gives me the opportunity to write my favourite things: Dadworth, and also Kay bullying Miles.

And yeah the part about people seeing Phoenix on the news is a reference to disbarment... can’t imagine anyone would have had anything particularly nice to say to him, especially those first few years.

“Kay has been assisting some of the prosecutors and myself through some tricky crime scenes lately,” Edgeworth informed him.

“Technically I’m a P.I., but Mr. Edgeworth said they’re really short-staffed these days, so I thought I’d lend him a hand,” Kay elaborated.

“Oh, so I might be running into you at the crime scene someday.”

“Probably!” She grinned. “Though I’m not gonna go easy on you just ‘cause Mr. Edgeworth likes you.”

“Kay.”

“Oh is that Ema over there?” Kay said loudly. “I’ve gotta run, see you around!”

She dashed off. Edgeworth sighed.

At first I made Kay just a straightforward detective, but I changed it pretty last minute. I feel like she’d want to do her own thing, plus this way she can assist from the outside when dealing with Dark Age of the Law Corruption-type stuff. Miles hires her because canon says he was left pretty short-staffed in SOJ. I’m not... totally sure what the laws are regarding private investigators working with police, but this is a fictional universe with fictional laws so I will do what I want.

Aside from that... more Kay making fun of Miles.

“She seems energetic,” Phoenix commented.

“Indeed she is.”

“... Why did she call me ‘Mr. That Man’?”

Edgeworth coughed. “I’ve not the slightest idea,” he said, turning his head to the side. “That aside, this whole affair is going much smoother than I expected, aside from that slight mishap.”

“Yeah, murder’s not really the best way to kick off a bachelor party, huh? Even if it is Larry. But I think we did alright.”

“Indeed.”

As if on cue, a loud cheer rose up from the crowd at the far corner of the bar.

“... Do you smell something?” Phoenix asked, and true to form, the swaying form of Larry crawled on top of a table.

People making fun of That Man is one of my favourite tropes regarding the AAI characters.

I don’t actually know how bachelor parties work, but if anyone can make them into an overly dramatized super wild party... it’s Larry.

Edgeworth groaned and began to storm off, but Phoenix grabbed him by the hand to hold him back. “Edgeworth, it’s a party, let them have their fun.”

“I… suppose so,” Edgeworth relented, but his hand was still tense in Phoenix’s.

Phoenix released him. “C’mon, we can chaperone from a safe distance.”

Edgeworth nodded wordlessly, but Phoenix could sense that same feeling of unease from him again. He opened his mouth to ask about it but a loud shout took up his attention — this was something that could be dealt with later, he thought, as he and Edgeworth rushed over to the scene.

Miles internal monologue: Wright is holding my hand. Wright is holding my hand. Wright is holding my hand writgh is holding my hand wright is holdin g my ha--

Phoenix: uh. edgeworth?

So in this fic... Miles is gradually working up the courage to confess to Phoenix. He finally worked out his own feelings at some point prior to this fic starting but can’t quite admit them yet, so every time Phoenix does anything that can be remotely construed as romantic he just goes “!!!” and it’s probably all he can think about for a week. Poor guy! I’m sure that when he finally confesses all will be well.

Hours later, as the party wound down and various taxis came to take people home, Phoenix found himself crowded in a booth with a tipsy Maya and a drunk, gushing Gumshoe.

“... and I know she’s gonna just be so beautiful, pals, and what if it’s too much?” Gumshoe asked, lying sideways against the table. “What if they don’t let me see her and then the day of the wedding I look’t her and… I die?”

“People have gotten married without dying, Gumshoe,” Phoenix consoled him.

“But they don’t marry Maggey, pal…”

Maya snorted. “With her luck, I wouldn’t be surprised if something like that happened.”

“Hey, don’t tell him that!” Phoenix hissed.

really this wedding should have had way more disaster than I wrote about... probably at least one murder.

“No, no, don’t mention her luck, she’s already so worried,” said Gumshoe. “We’ve checked off every good-luck wedding charm in th’ book… but she still thinks somethin’s gonna go wrong. I love her, I really, really love her, pals…” A far off look crossed his face, and Phoenix wondered if anyone would ever speak of him like that, “... but she worries so much…”

“What’s she worried about?” Maya asked, slumping over against Phoenix’s shoulder.

“Ceremony, reception, if people’re gonna show up, if we’re gonna lose somethin’ important… even ‘s far as the bouquet toss. I told her, if you’re not sure, just toss it in th’ direction of you,” he pointed at Phoenix, “or at Mr. Edgeworth, and maybe it’ll work.”

Phoenix frowned. “Why me?”

Gumshoe let out a burst of hearty laughter. “I’m thinkin’ if you or Mr. Edgeworth catches it, it’ll give ‘im the courage to finally ask you out, pal.”

Maya shot straight up. Phoenix froze. “... What?”

probably not the smoothest way to get to the entire reason why this bachelor party exists, BUT. 

Also it’s implied that Miles DID actually talk to Gumshoe about this at some point. probably Gumshoe caught him pining at a bad time haha.

“Y’know the old tradition, whoever catches it is the next to get married and all…” Gumshoe stared at them for a moment, before his eyes widened and a look of absolute horror crossed his face. “O-Oh! Crap! Pal!”

“Edgeworth wants to ask Nick out?!” Maya shrieked.

“FINALLY! IT’S ABOUT FREAKING TIME!”

originally Gumshoe used a much stronger word than “crap” but idk Gummy doesn’t seem like the type to curse much...? Maybe it’s a stretch haha. also “pal” as an exclamation is my favourite little Gumshoe speech tic

“Shh, shh!” Gumshoe reached over to clamp a hand over her mouth but fell, collapsing on the table. “You heard nothin’ from me, pals, got it? Mr. Edgeworth’s gonna kill me if he finds out… worse, stop funding the wedding…”

Death is one thing but the WEDDING...

And I can’t remember if I mentioned at any point that Miles was also funding the wedding haha but it’s probably also something he wouldn’t want to tell anyone. Gumshoe with his perpetually terrible salary (which is also Miles’ fault) plus Maggey with her inability to hold down a job before being fired in a murder-related incident probably means they don’t have a lot for a nice wedding so Miles offered. secretly and evasively. because he’s a nice person but also doesn’t want anyone to know that.

Maya stared at Phoenix, her mouth agape, as Gumshoe continued mumbling to himself under his breath about the various consequences of Edgeworth’s hypothetical wrath. Phoenix, meanwhile, felt like his brain had short-circuited.

That wasn’t possible. He must have heard Gumshoe wrong. Edgeworth didn’t think of him that way. Edgeworth didn’t think about anyone that way, Phoenix had thought, for the longest time.

Little do you know, Phoenix! 

Touching on the aroace Miles headcanon here because it’s a very valid interpretation of his actions even if it’s not my own...

… Even if Edgeworth had been acting strange lately, even if something in his expression softened when he looked at Phoenix, even if…

No. Phoenix quickly shoved that thought to the back of his mind. There were many things he knew about Edgeworth, and one of those was that Edgeworth saw him as a part-time friend and part-time annoyance, but never a romantic interest of any kind. The thought of it was just… just unbelievable.

Phoenix craned his head around, catching sight of a familiar pink jacket across the room and watched Edgeworth in the middle of some phone call. He would know if Edgeworth was interested in him that way… wouldn’t he?

At first “the back of his mind” was “the overflowing mental trunk of repression” but that seemed a little too on the nose. Just know that’s essentially what he’s doing.

Another thing I wanted to establish throughout the fic was how close Phoenix and Miles are now -- they essentially know each other really well. And thinking about that part in Turnabout Goodbyes where Phoenix declares that “I’m the only one who knows the real Edgeworth”, I kind of interpreted that Phoenix Knowing Things About Edgeworth is an important part of their relationship to him. And the occasions where Miles did surprise him (with some aspect of his personality) weren’t always very good things... realizing he’d turned into a “demon prosecutor”, then the “choosing death” part... it’s a lot of my headcanons running away from me haha. Basically in this fic, Phoenix thinks he knows Edgeworth so well because he’s so close with him so an indication that there’s something about Edgeworth he doesn’t know or has completely wrong kind of... connects to him /not/ being as close to Edgeworth as he thinks he is? Maybe? And being close to him is something very important to Phoenix.

(This is not my personal opinion though haha, people can and will surprise you no matter how well you know them... but this fic is Phoenix’s Relationship Issues: The Fic, so.)

And no one else has mentioned the scenes where it comes up yet so I’ll talk about it here -- a lot of my editing process involved going through the fic and cutting out every instance of Phoenix either talking about him hypothetically being in love with Miles, or of Miles being in love with him. I just ctrl+f “love” and cut out whatever fit the criteria. Phoenix’s interpretation of Miles’ actions up until the end of chapter 5 isn’t exactly that Miles is Capital-L In Love with him, more that it’s like... a little crush? Mayyybe some physical attraction. Misconstrued admiration. Not anything so severe that Miles would willingly initiate a conversation about Feelings. so “He would know if Edgeworth was in love with him” changed to “He would know if Edgeworth was interested in him that way” because part of Phoenix’s issue here is that he can’t actually directly acknowledge the possibility that he’s in love with Miles or that Miles is in love with him. It’s a whole complicated thing I’ll probably talk about in the next commentary I do?

This got long but there’s the end of the chapter! I’ll answer more later...? These take up a lot of time haha.

[thedreadvampy]

TW: I'm gonna talk about the word you find distressing (putting this so you can avoid facing it in your notifs as needed)

I really genuinely do appreciate this viewpoint as a fellow survivor, but those two words do not mean the same thing, legally or in general use. They certainly overlap - all rape is sexual assault - but there are many other types of sexual assault, and it's a significant distinction to draw (again, both legally and in general use)

that's not to say sexual assault isn't serious. but it's sort of like "injustice" and "misogyny" - the one contains the other, but it's a lot broader and less specific.

I also think, and this isn't a critique of you or your relationship to these words - for me a lot of the work I've done around acknowledging the severity of what's happened to me has involved really digging into why I find words like "rape" or "abuse" really distressing/uncomfortable to use or hear.

For me (and this is just for me, not speaking for anyone else) I've realised over a lot of years of work that the reason I find those words viscerally distressing is that they do describe something more specific than a lot of euphemisms I would prefer to use (sexual assault; bad relationships) and that makes it a lot harder for me to do what I've done a lot to cope, which is minimise it, move blame off people who've hurt me, and try and make it less of a big deal. That's really distressing and painful and like legitimately hard to the degree of causing mental breakdown - but it's also important work to do in the long term, cause it's hard to deal with the severity of the experience while dodging ever acknowledging the severity of the experience.

Sexual assault is not the same thing as rape.

It's not incumbent on you, as someone who's already being burdened with a whole bunch of shit to deal with that you never asked for, to overcome your discomfort - if using broader, more general terms is most comfortable and manageable for you, then you should do that. We as survivors are not responsible for continuing to drag ourselves through further pain for the Greater Good - how you want to talk and think about your experience is yours to decide on your own time, nobody else's.

For me, I used "rape" for everyone else's experiences and "sexual assault" or "pressure" or "not entirely consensual" for my own. And looking back, for me, that was symptomatic of all the ways I was trying to convince myself not to look too closely at it or admit that it was a horrific thing that was done to me rather than something that was about my reaction (again, I say FOR ME because it's really important to Mr that I'm clear that I'm not saying everyone who prefers to use more general or euphemistic terms is doing it for those reasons - just this is my experience).

For me, and this is part of why I made this original post and why I believe it so strongly, my path towards using really specific, often uncomfortable or distressing, words to describe uncomfortable and distressing experiences has been a big part of me feeling like I'm healing somewhat.

5 years ago I couldn't use the word rape about some stuff that was literally textbook went-to-court That Thing, I talked around it for years. in some cases for over a decade. And I wasn't wrong to do that, to be clear. It was what was needed at the time for where I was with it. But the reason I use the more specific, upsetting language now is because it's really important to name that shit when we are able to.

like you know. long story short, you as a survivor are not obliged to use or accept language or frames on your experience that make healing and feeling safe harder for you. but collectively as a society we need to accept that the discomfort from specific words is often important.

In the main, we're uncomfortable with the word "rape" because it is unambiguously about a really specific, really intentional and really destructive act. The thing it describes is distressing. Individually, we're not obliged as survivors to accept further distress. But generally, when we use broader or more general or more euphemistic terms, we are trying to minimise the distressing nature of the thing we're describing, and that's fine in many circumstances on an individual level, but fucked on a societal one. Collectively, we shouldn't feel comfortable with "rape", because we shouldn't feel comfortable with rape.

Individually, as survivors, our job is to take care of ourself and others. For you, that might mean that you need to look after yourself by fighting for a space where you feel safe and aren't getting triggered - you know your experience is distressing, you don't need to be told. For us, collectively, taking care of survivors means that we as a society don't shy away from that discomfort - we need to recognise the specific harm we're talking about in order to do something about it.

There's some space between "this is a word I find distressing" and "this is a bad word to use, this other words is better". To me, you never have to use the word rape if it distresses you. The reason it's triggering to you is that you've already been distressed plenty. Possibly part of healing long-term might involve investigating why that distress is happening and coming to peace with the word - but it might not! it might just be a word you never wanna have to deal with!

buuuut. that's not the same as "sexual assault is universally a better term than rape because it's less distressing." because as I say they don't mean exactly the same thing, and if we all universally only choose words for distressing things that minimise actual distress, then all the stress falls on survivors and on people actually suffering from its impacts, and everyone else gets to handwave it.

you gotta be able to say "die"

you gotta be able to say "suicide"

you gotta be able to talk about "sex"

they're uncomfortable topics, YEAH for SURE

because LIFE is uncomfortable. Death and suicide and sex and pain are straight up going to happen. not having words for the way it discomforts you doesn't make it more comfortable, it just makes you less able to reach out about it.

even more vital, you gotta be able to say words like "rape", "abuse", "queer" or "racist". cause we fought fucking hard to name those experiences. to identify "rape" as distinct from "sex" and "racism" as distinct from "acceptable behaviour" and "queer" as distinct from "invert"

like the function of communication is not to minimise immediate discomfort. we gotta be able to talk about stuff that's hard or sucks or causes difficult conversations.

[vidavalor]

Can you share another horny homophone? Count me obsessed with Ineffable Husbands Speak.

Same, obviously. I can do that. Since "ma tante"/"my tente" was Aziraphale, here are a couple from Crowley this time:

To be bored/board and wrath/wroth

We know that when Aziraphale is hungry for sex, he ironically busts out this word below that means that one could go for a little snack:

And we also know that Crowley sees this as the most Aziraphale word that has ever Aziraphale worded because he was all oh babe really this one? in response to it in 1793:

His attitude is a bit: We're doing this now? We're calling it "peckish"? I mean, it meets the food-related criteria for a sexual euphemism in our wordplay and it's also funny as hell, since you have never eaten just a little bit of food once in all your days, and it's even got this weird, bird-like bit of hilarity to it but I can't do it. It's fine for you but there is no way on this Earth that I am ever going to tell you I feel like sex by saying that I'm feeling "peckish"...

This is not a Crowley-ish word.

So, what does he say then? What's the Crowley version of "peckish"? It's a homophone and it's...

To be "bored/board" (in Ineffable Husbands Speak). The Crowley version of "peckish", which is a word that is fine for Aziraphale but which Crowley is never going to use in all his days.

To be bored is to lament the fact that you are lacking in stimuli and activity and to be stuck in a temporary dearth of anything interesting happening. A homophone for "bored" in English is "board", which has several different meanings that are amusing in an Ineffable Husbands-y way-- much like "wily", "thwart", "smitten", "explode", etc..

A board in one bit of common usage today is a plank of wood-- as in, "honey, I'm going to Lowe's to grab some more boards for our home improvement project" but, inevitably, since you're all such wonderfully dirty-minded little skamps, your minds also went to the sexual euphemism for having an erection. As such, Crowley can speak aloud one sound-- like Aziraphale did with "tante"/"tente"-- and have it mean two different words at once and "board" has additional meanings that meet the criteria for being a word in Ineffable Husbands Speak... like its food-related one.

One of the original meanings of "board" is a table that is set for a meal. As in, "he was ravenously hungry when he returned to the house and sighed with pleasure at the board before him." The board, in this case, would be a table laid with food that was ready to eat. A more modern version of this kind of usage is less the whole table set up for a meal but more if I were to go fill a plank of wood or a stone slab or a platter with various deli meats, cheeses, olives, breads/crackers, etc., what have I made? A charcuterie board.

Additionally, a "board" can be used to mean those working as a small collective to make decisions and direct an organization-- as in, "she sits on the board of directors of the company"-- and is then a nod towards their healthy sexual power balance. More euphemistically, as a verb, you "board" modes of transportation-- like planes, buses, trains, ships... the latter two of which we've already seen Crowley and Aziraphale turn into sexual innuendo.

Ships are related to the sea and feature into Aziraphale's drunk innuendo around The Kraken and his more detailed Biblically-inspired dirty talk in the "seeds of destruction" scene. Trains are what Crowley parries back with after Aziraphale turned The Bentley and the bookshop into a sexual metaphor for Crowley and himself when teasing control freak Crowley about how he has been letting Aziraphale drive his car for centuries but is having a whole meltdown about letting him drive the actual, literal car.

While you "sail on" a ship and "fly" on a plane, in the cases of most other forms of transportation-- including the two Crowley and Aziraphale are flirting about in S2, cars and trains-- you, of course, "board" one to ride it to a destination. If you wish to board a mode of transportation, you wish to go somewhere-- you're bored and need to board. And you've a whole board of delicious-sounding meal options circling around in your mind lol.

So, Crowley can make one sound and it encapsulates two words with collective meanings of lacking in stimuli while being hard up/horny and fantasizing about a whole damn charcuterie board of sexual options.

Crowley can tell what Aziraphale means by his tone of voice and the reasons Aziraphale calls Crowley, according to Crowley in 2.01, are that there's a "something's wrong" emergency (which is what this scene in 2.01 is), that he has to tell him about something clever he did and can't wait the short amount of time until he sees Crowley next to tell him (which is so married and is also what happens when Aziraphale can't wait to tell Crowley how good a job he's doing managing his trauma in Edinburgh by having gone to the spot by the Gabriel statue), or that he's "bored"/"board"-- he's restless, lacking in stimuli, very peckish and wants to mess around (which is Good Omens: Lockdown).

Aziraphale: I just called to see how you were doing during lockdown.

Crowley: I'm bored... so *very, very*... *board*. *Transcendentally* (homophone) bored/board...

Maggie and Nina partner scene, in which they are locked down together, and Nina's a bit of a bitch but also kinda not wrong about physical media shops as unlikely targets for robbery:

Aziraphale: ...except for the other night, when (salacious tone of voice) *a few young lads* broke in and (faux-innocent tone of voice) tried to steal the cashbox! (mischievous, innuendo-laden tone of voice) But they soon saw the error of their ways.

Crowley: Did you smite them with your (homophone) wrath/wroth?

Wrath: righteous fury; of an angel, in Biblical terms. Pronounced by people with a moneyed English accent like Crowley's as "wroth", for some weird fluke of language/reasons no one is really sure on, probably because it sounds posh. *shrug* However, 'wroth' is a word itself...

Wroth: like 'wrath', means extreme anger... but is also the past tense of 'writhe'

To writhe: to make continuous twisting movements of the body; to thrash; to flail; to twist and turn. Frequently used to describe the movements of a body experiencing sexual pleasure or an orgasm.

[See also, other kinds of writhe-related wordplay: to founder vs. to flounder ("Seeds of Destruction" scene) and to get a wiggle on vs. to get a wriggle on (Discorporated!Aziraphale scene), when I finish metas on Fish and Seeds.]

Crowley: Did you smite them with your *wroth*?

Meaning: Did you discipline your imaginary burglars, angel-- is that where this one's going? Did they become smitten with you from your smiting-- all three young, strapping, muscled, cash-starved members of the local university crew team, I'd imagine?

[silentdescant]

7, 22, 28 :)

7. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever received?

This is tough, I’ve been writing and surrounding myself with good writers since I was... idk, 15 or so. I think one of the most useful pieces of advice that I tell other people is to just use [THEN THIS HAPPENS] or [WORD THAT MEANS ANGRY] or whatever as placeholders and just MOVE ON. I know perfectionism is a HUGE sticking point for a lot of people, and keeps them from writing at all because they get stuck in the first sentence trying to make it perfect and they get too frustrated to continue. Just move on and come back to it later. Your brain will keep working on a solution in the background, or just seeing it with fresh eyes or even having a beta look at it will help fill in the blanks.

For writing porn specifically, the best advice I’ve seen has actually been making the rounds on twitter and tumblr recently so I’m sure I’ve reblogged it a couple of times, but... JUST USE THE BASIC WORDS, do not try and get flowery and euphemistic unless it’s a very specifically humorous stylistic choice. Calling something a throbbing meat rod or a dripping flower is just... really not sexy.

Call people by their names or pronouns, do not use epithets, and call genitals by the basics, do not use euphemisms.

22. Is there a trope you’ve never written, but want to try?

I don’t think I’ve ever written (at least to completion) enemies to lovers--lol and then I immediately thought of a time I wrote that trope like a decade ago, oops. But I haven’t written it in any recent fandom, and I don’t read it very often either... I would be interested to do so for a teen wolf pairing, probably. I find it very difficult to place dan and phil at odds, even temporarily.

My ideal version of enemies to lovers is leaders or royalty or soldiers of different factions/armies/warring nations who instinctively hate each other due to history outside their control, but then find common ground and develop a relationship that has to be kept secret from their cohorts due to accusations of treason and spying and whatnot. I love that kind of drama and tension.

28. Best part of writing fanfic?

I loooove filling in the blanks of shows/movies. And real life, I used to do that with bandom a lot, writing post-show fics and things based on instagram posts or whatever. I really like both reading and writing fics that stick close enough to canon to be believable--and for dnp, it’s even more believable because they’re actually together, but for most of my fandoms, it’s been making the subtext into actual text in a realistic way. I love the shit out of well developed AUs, but canon compliant fic is what I find the most fascinating about fanfic as an overall genre. :)

Thank you!!

[arbenia]

Popular Albanian beliefs (part 2)

(Taken from “A Dictionary Of Albanian Religion, Mythology, And Folk Culture” By Robert Elsie)

Fingernails - When someone cuts his nails he should blow on them and throw the cuttings over his shoulder. In this way he puts the evil behind him. One should also avoid cutting one’s fingernails on a Friday. In Kosova many people will only cut their fingernails on a Thursday or a Saturday.

Bats - As among the Germans of Transylvania and the Upper Palatinate, bats were interpreted by the Albanians as omens of death. Thus, if a bat flew into a house, it was thought that someone there would die.

Sun - Both the sun and are common symbols and motifs in Albanian folk art, including tattooing. We know that the Illyrians, the ancient inhabitants of the western Balkans, used symbols of the sun in their ornaments, though it cannot said for certain wether it is these which have been handed down to the present-day Albanians. The Paeonians who lived somewhere between the ancient Macedonians and the Dardanians, also had a cult of the sun, which the second-century A.D writer Maximus of Tyre described as focused on a small disc at the top of a long pole. The sun cult among the Albanians is reflected in oaths i.e swearing by the sun. Indeed, oaths taken by the sun and its rays e.g. “by the sun.” Alb. për atë diell, and “by this sunbeam,” Alb. për këtë rreze dielli, were formerly more common than the oaths taken by God, and are used by to this very day. Albanian oral literature also preserves noticeable references to the sun’s rays illuminating sombre mountain caves, etc. The feast of Saint George can also be linked to an early solar festival. Baron Franz Nopcsa (1877-1933) reports that the Catholic inhabitants of Shala and Plan Sh would make the sign of the cross when struck by the first rays of the sun in the morning. 

Tuesday - Of all the days of the week, Tuesday is regarded in Albania, as in Turkey, as the unluckiest, Alb. ditë ters ‘ill-omened day.’ It is a particularly bad day for setting out on a journey. Many Albanian women will not do their housework on Tuesdays because one of the hours of the day, the the sahat ters ‘unlucky hour,’ will bring them bad luck. Old women are known no to wash their hair on Tuesdays, nor will they throw out the dishwater. This belief is still widespread in Albania. Workers will often not lay the foundations for a new house on a Tuesday and many people will not wear new clothes for the first time on that day. The Italian cleric Ernesto Cozzi of Trento recorded the Gheg expression Zoja e marte asht e lidhun “Lady Tuesday is harsh.”

Friday - Friday was considered an unlucky day of the week, almost as ominous as Tuesday. It was particularly inauspicious to spin wool, shear sheep or even have one’s hair or fingernails cut on Friday. Among the Orthodox women of Reka e Epërme (Republic of Macedonia) is was considered a sin to manual labour on this day.

Wolves - Wolves, Alb ujk, def ujku, plur. ujq or ujqër, were much feared by the pastoral Albanian tribes in the past. As such, they used a number of euphemisms for them in order to attract their attention, e.g. bisha ‘the savage one,’ gojëlidhuni ‘the one whose mouth is closed,’ i pagoji ‘the mouthless one.’ A wolf might kill only ninety-nine sheep. If it tried to steal the hundredth, it would die.  In connection with vampires, it was thought that only a wolf could force a lugat back into its grave. If anyone refused to give money to a beggar wearing a wolf’s skin, the beggar needed only throw the skin onto the threshold of the miser’s house. This was enough to ensure that wolves would cause damage to his herds. In view of this, it is said that no herdsmen ever refused money to a beggar dressed in wolf’s skin.

Cats - According to Johann Georg von Hahn cats were particularly revered in the northern Albanian mountains. As one legend has it, a cat once jumped out of the sleeve of a garment worn by Jesus in order to put an end to a plague of mice in a house the Lord was visiting. The killing of a cat was thus regarded as an act of impiety. Black cats on the other hand, as in many other cultures, are considered unlucky, specially if they cross someone’s path. People in Albania used to believe that if a cat licked itself while looking towards the north or east, the sun would shine. If it licked itself white facing the west or south, there would be rain.

Hare - The hare, Alb. lepur, def. lepuri, lepuj, is a bad omen in Albanian belief. If someone stars out on a journey and his path is crossed out by a hare, it is deemed  advisable, as with a black cat, for him to return home at once, for otherwise something bad will happen to him. If a pregnant woman sees a hare, her child will turn out to be a coward and will sleep at night with his eyes open. Nor should a woman eat a hare during pregnancy. Dervishes will not eat hares because they believe the animals are made of menstruation discharge.

Garlic - A clove of garlic can be used to protect a child from the evil eye. The witch-like shtrigas can also be kept at bey with garlic.

Pigeons - Pigeons and doves, Alb. pëllumb, def. pëllumbi, like many other birds in the Albanian tradition, were said to bring bad luck. For this reason, people in the countryside will not keep them in their homes.

Shoulder blades - The shoulder blade, Alb. shpatull, def. shpatulla, related to Lat. scapula ‘shoulder blade,’ of an animal, in particular of a ram, was used by the northern tribes well into the twentieth century to predict the future, in particular with references to deaths, coming wars and weather. The breast bones of chickens, preferably black chickens, were also held up to the light to predict the future. Predictions from chicken bones were only valid for an individual if he had possessed the chicken in question for at least forty days, otherwise the prediction was valid for the previous owner.

Pigs - When pigs begin to play, it is said that is going to rain.

Clover - As in many other cultures, great power was attributed to the four-leaf clover. If such a clover were to be rubbed against the locks and chains on a horse, they would fall open at once. The four-leaf clover was also used for courting. A young man would take a four-leaf clover to church with him and leave it there for forty days. Thereafter he would place it upon the maiden of his choice and, with this simple gesture, win her over as his bride. 

Prophecies - The Albanians attached prophetic capacity to various objects in their surroundings. Most common in the north of the country was divination with the shoulder blades of rams and cattle or with the breast bones of chickens. Propitious for prophecies concerning the future of a child were the moment of the first ritual hair cutting, fingernails and baby teeth.

Weasels -  If a person speaks badly of a weasel, Alb. nuselale, def nuselalja, or bukël, def. bukla, also known euphemistically as bishtfurkbukur, def bishtfurkbukuri, lit. ‘the beautiful folk-tailed one,’ it will destroy his clothes. If a weasel enters a house and bares its teeth, all the mice and rats in the house will die of fright.

Colors - It was believed by the northern tribes  that black-coloured animals had magical powers, or at least more magical powers than others. The breast bones of black chickens were especially propitious for predicting the future. In Albanian mythology, the most courageous draguas in animal form were black: black rams, black roosters, etc. In the northern mountains, married women could be distinguished from unmarried women by the fact that the latter did not wear anything red. In Dukagjin, the fairy godmother-like oras came in three colors: white ones who did good and brought luck, yellow ones who did evil and brought bad luck, and black ones who brought death. 

Djegagur - In northern Albania, the first twelve days of August, known as djegagur, def. djegaguri ‘the burning stone,’ because of the heat, were feared because poltergeists and invisible witches who were wont to invade people’s homes. In Labëria, each of these first days of August was said to determine the weather for the months of the coming year.

Cuckoos - The cuckoo, Alb. qyqe, def qyqja, is a female symbol of misfortune in Albanian folklore. The song of cuckoo portends disaster or misfortune, often a death. The word qyqe is also synonymous in Albanian with an unfortunate woman, i.e. one who has no children or husband. In the legend of Doruntina, Doruntina’s mother turns into a cuckoo when she learns that her children are dead.

 Fleas - In order to rid a house of fleas, Alb. plesht, def. pleshti, the youngest female of the household had to strip naked, sweep the house and, standing near the doorway, repeat three times over, “We’ve been freed, the fleas are gone.”

[ashleyfableblack]

To All Rape Fetishists and "Artists"...

TL;DR- You are fucking sick. Do not come near me, -EVER- or my family. Go die in a fire. Seriously. Fuck you.

TRIGGER WARNING- This is NOT a discussion. This is a calling-out of disgusting shit-people without mercy. Rapists and rape apologists do NOT deserve mercy as they surrender that right in the act itself. This includes "fetishists". If you are a rape fetishist, you are an apologist and are complicit in their guilt This principle has been established in a court of law, repeatedly. Stop lying to yourself. You may also die in a fire.

"I hate euphemisms and euphemistic language. It's a language smug, greedy, well-fed white people have created to conceal their sins. Its as simple as that" -George Carlin.

George Carlin may have used wording more clumsy and racially-loaded than many would have preferred but did hit a proverbial nail on the head. In this statement "white people" doesn't specifically refer to "Caucasians" as much as a rank of social elevation and privilege.

This applies VERY well to Rape- the actual crime, Rape pornography art and rape "fetishists" and how those whom have been affected so horribly by this are generally treated in our society.

Chances are if you have an art account on any online site, particularly a furry community art listing, you have encountered the grotesque evasion of reality that is the tree of euphemisms for rape imagery. The persons who enjoy this despicable act ofteb realize how foul they are and make an attempt to verbally obfuscate the horror of their sick amusement at anothers traumatic violation. Sadly, they truly are changing the wording of the act with the idea that it will somehow lessen the harsh, brutal reality of the act. I myself recently encountered the largest and most shamelessly embarrassing euphemism for rape I've ever heard and by a person I had held in VERY high regard until that moment.

If laid out in a pattern of shaving the layers of delusional bullshit off euphemisms one layer at a time it looks like this...

"Malicious Compliance"

"Non-consentual"

"Non-compliance"

"Forced orgasm"

"Forced consent"

"Non-consent"

"Non-con"

RAPE.

All of these terms are the same thing- rape. Stop deluding yourself. You are drawing rape. You are writing stories glamorizing rape. You are enjoying rape.

Those whom have never known the real horror of this act often have little care for the terrifying bodily harm, emotional scars and mental trauma which rapists cause. When confronted with this data they will often become defensive, agitated and even violent. Their privilege is being called into question and the pleasure derived from their erection is far more important to them than life-long inescapable trauma in someone's life.

The rape culture of our society is defended and/or dismissed by a STAGGERING number of people- many whom consider themselves to be "good" people. The horror of the willful and knowing violation of another's body, sense of security and autonomy and even sense of self is often swept aside by "enthusiasts" under the protective umbrella of any number of excuses.

There is no defense for this.

To any Rape apologists using the defense that it is "just art"...

Defending your horrifying inhuman enjoyment of another's violation and suffering as "its just a picture" is adding stupidity to entitlement.

In and of itself, Rape pornography is "just art" in the same way that blowing someone's head off with a Remington 1100 pump action is "just testing a firearm". It is a despicable act of violation, brutality, which ends a life and permanently stains EVERY life that WOULD have been touched and enriched by the victim.

In this situation, you-as the apologist- are deriving sexual enjoyment from the headless corpse of someone's child, mother, father or spouse.

All "art" exists as an created work of skill which draws a emotional response from the viewer. In-and-of-itself, existing in some manner of impossible to create vaccuum, artwork is neutral. However, Its glamoirizing of brutality and torture and your sexual enjoyment of that suffering is not and NEVER will be.

To any Rape apologists using the defense that "it's hypnotism\mesmerizm. That's not rape"...

Yes. It is.

Rape is the act of enacting a sexual act upon another whom has not given consent. To hypnotize a person is to remove their capacity for free will, their capacity to give, deny or withdraw consent. Though hypnotism is -for the most part- nonsensical fantasy which has been debunked countless times, hypnotism rape imagery presents the same real-world problem as any other rape imagery. Functionally the act depicted is NO different from any other act of depriving a person of their mental capacity which IS real, such as slipping a roofie into their drink or forcing yourself upon them when otherwise chemically impaired- high, black-out-drunk or unconscious.

Forcing a sexual act upon a person in these states IS rape. It isn't "hypno-pornography". You are drawing rape. You are enjoying rape.

To any apologist using the "I'm against the REAL act. That's horrible. No, I just like art." defense...

Listen to yourself. Seriously. You dont like the act.... You just like the IDEA of the act is no defense. If anything, it is a confession of your guilt, if not one lacking in self-awareness.

You dont have to commit an act to promote that act, normalize that act or to be complicit in the act and deserving of the guilt for the act.

A person who posts page after page of KKK propaganda imagery, stories of violencing racial minorities and LGBTQ persons, graphic imagery of physical brutality against said persons- this person is a racist. Few would deny that. They are by virtue of their act, promoting racial and sexual hatred and are de facto, supporting the KKK. They are not "just enjoying art". They are racists.

A person who posts nazi imagery- swastikas, propaganda videos and speeches, stories and artwork of violencing Jews, homosexuals and other minorities, -this person is promoting Nazism, providing a platform and taking center stage to spread propaganda. They are a Nazi, as proven in court multiple times during the famous post-WW2 Nuremburg Trials. They are a Nazi.

If you create rape pornography, rape art images, rape fiction stories, animations and such- if you run a online group which creates these things or promotes them or a simulacrum of them- If you fill your gallery of likes and faves with support for the persons who create these things- you promote rape. You enable rape culture. You are effectively a rapist.

To any rape porn artist or "enthusiast"using the 'free speech' defense:

This is not a defense. This is an explanation of vehicle of expression. "Free speech" doesn't validate your sick enjoyment of another living person being horribly violated. It is the means by which you legally get away with being a sick Fuck, making artwork/writings for other sick fucks and are not held to task for what you do. It is excusing shooting someone by saying that you have the legal right to own a gun.

I respect that you have the right to create rape porn. I do NOT respect your rape porn or YOU. That is my right. As it is also my right to be repulsed by your sick enjoyment of another human beings suffering for your sexual pleasure you inhuman Fuck- as any person with a shred of empathy would. It's also my right, as a survivor and friend of several others, to tell you to take your 'freeze peach' roll your rape porn up in it, light it on fire and go fuck yourself with it and never come anywhere near me or mine again.

We are responsible for what we do with our freedoms. Including if we promote sick violent assaults on people which will leave scars on them for the rest of their fucking lives.

Fuck rape porn and rape pornography 'artists'.

As a proud member of The Satanic Temple I feel the need to include A specific mention for any of my fellow Temple Satanists who enjoy this sick fetish bullshit.

Have you even READ The Seven Tenants?

"One should strive to act with compassion and empathy towards all living creatures within reason..."

In NO way is this, physically and sexually violencing another living being, by any stretch of the imagination expressing this. It is deliberately denying it.

"One's body is inviolable, subject to one's own will, alone."

You are expressing, encouraging and taking joy in the exact opposite of this point.

"The freedom of another is to be respected... To willfully and unjustly encroach upon the freedom of another is to forego one's own."

You are again, expressing, encouraging and enjoying the befoulment of this point. You are surrendering Your own right to freedom from the promotion of violence against you, or arguably the violence itself, by pure principle of this.

"The struggle for justice is an ongoing and necessary pursuit that should prevail over laws and institutions"

Every day, rape survivors struggle to live again. Every aspect of their lives is a pile of shattered glass which they shred themselves trying to reassemble into a picture. You glorify, glamorize and take joy in the act that destroyed their lives and you spit upon the possibility of their pain being taken seriously and their violators being brought to see even a fraction of what they deserve.

"Every tenant is a guiding principle designed to inspire nobility in action and thought."

In NO way is promoting sexual violation and brutality noble. None.

The mission of The Satanic Temple is to encourage benevolence and empathy among all people. In addition, we embrace practical common sense and justice.

This is our creed. This is our work- The Work, in a nutshell. Or -at least- it is Supposed to be. The promotion of and glamorizing of sexual violence, the open violation of our basic tenants, this is a vile and disgusting befoulment of our very virtues. You are a shameful misrepresentation of The Work, The Left-hand Path and Satanism.

Un-Fuck yourself. NOW.

Recently, I had been contacted by a political activism group on Furaffinity. They wished to use some of my art to promote their group. They seemed a fairly progressive bunch with a strong emphasis on church-state separation and freedom of expression so I agreed to provide my services and support.

A few weeks later I was checking on their discord chat group and was surprised to find an extended forum of rape imagery of all stripes and a rather repulsive, jovial discussion of rape and the raping of young men and women.

I wanted no part of that. I know many survivors and have nothing but empathy for their suffering and respect for their struggle for a return to security and normalcy. If this was to be allowable or encouraged in the group, I wouldn't be associated with such.

Before leaving the "enlightened" group I felt it proper to talk with the founder whom had initially brought me onboard, explaining my grievance and perhaps coming to an understanding. After I explained my position on the subject I was verbally lambasted, given the full list of the usual excuses and defenses, mocked as a "bleeding heart" and my religion was belittled in an embarassing display of a lack of understanding of Satanism.

Since then, said founder has cut ties with me, personally and has allegedly made multiple assaults on my character in conversation with others.

Still, I would do it again and again if given the same situation.

If you should be a creative- Don't bother looking through your gallery. You know what you've drawn. Don't bother looking at your faves or likes. You know what's in there. Dont bother checking your groups. You know what they do and promote.

Most people view justice as a matter of equivalency. Quid pro quo. Eye for an eye- life for a life.

What "justice" is there to be had for a crime that can never be recovered from? What is "justice" in This case? How do we as a society enforce justice upon the act of violating a person for life?

What "justice" do you deserve?

You know if you're guilty or not. What you do with that knowledge is up to you and in the end that action will determine who you really are.

Treat others with compassion, Show empathy to the suffering, fight for the justice denied those who have been violenced. They are our friends. They are our families. They are us.

[thinkveganworld]

This is long, but I thought I’d post on the outside chance anybody might find it worth reading.  It’s part two of a three-part series of articles I wrote years ago, and it includes information on modern day U. S politicians’ use of political propaganda.   

Goebbels and mass mind control: Part Two How PR opinion-shapers undermine environmental protection

In part one, we examined the fact that Hitler's propagandist, Joseph Goebbels, admired Edward Bernays, a self-proclaimed founder of the public relations industry. Goebbels used Bernays' book "Crystallizing Public Opinion" in his campaign against Germany's Jewish population.  Now we'll look at specific propaganda techniques shared by Goebbels and today's corporate PR teams, and at how those techniques undermine today's environmental movement.

Public relations can be used for good or ill. When PR spin is used to convince people that harmful things are good for them, or to turn people against their own best interests, it is used for ill. Goebbels practiced propaganda as a black art.

He helped organize Hitler's "brown shirts," and incited them to violence. He instigated the events leading to "Kristallknacht," the infamous nights of widespread brutal attacks against the Jews, November 8-9, 1938. He helped create the "fuhrer cult," spinning Hitler as Germany's great redeemer and convincing millions that the Nazi state was vital to their well-being.

Goebbels believed in using stealth tactics, or "institutional lying," and in using "fronts" to promote anti-Semitism and Nazi policies. For example, Goebbels set up a film office in July 1933, made it part of a branch of the Reich Cultural Chamber, and then used films to influence mass audiences. Klaus P. Fischer writes in "Nazi Germany: A New History" that most of the entertainment films "presented a sanitized image of carefree life under the protective umbrella of the Nazi regime."

When pro-Nazi or anti-Semitic propaganda came from the mouth of a popular German movie star on the screen, instead of directly from Goebbels, the public perceived it differently. In the same way, today's PR firms use front groups (fake grassroots, or "astroturf " groups) or specific so-called "third parties" to speak for corporations.

In "Global Spin," (Chelsea Green Publishing, 1997) science lecturer Sharon Beder writes that Merrill Rose, executive vice-president of the PR firm Porter/Novelli, said: "Put your words in someone else's mouth . . . There will be times when the position you advocate, no matter how well framed and supported, will not be accepted by the public simply because you are who you are. Any institution with a vested commercial interest in the outcome of an issue has a natural credibility barrier to overcome with the public, and often with the media."

John Stauber and Sheldon Rampton point out in "Toxic Sludge Is Good For You," that on behalf of tobacco company Philip Morris, the PR company, Burson-Marsteller, "created the [front group] 'National Smokers Alliance' to mobilize smokers into a grassroots lobby for smoker's rights . . . To defeat environmentalists, PR firms have created green-sounding front groups such as "The Global Climate Coalition" and the "British Columbia Forest Alliance."

Both Goebbels and today's PR firms have used euphemisms and Orwellian newspeak and doublespeak to influence the public mind. For example, corporate PR spinners have told the public that polluting-corporations are friends of nature; that weapons-manufacturer General Electric does no harm but merely "brings good things to life;" that spreading sludge on farm fields is "beneficial use;" that human beings killed in war-for-profit are "collateral damage."

American corporations have at times managed to circumvent the U.S. Constitution and ignore laws designed to protect our own workers and the environment by moving their companies offshore, in the name of "freedom." In Hitler's Germany, the euphemistically named "Law for Terminating the Suffering of People and Nation" (or, the "Enabling Law") gave governments such "freedoms" as the right to deviate from the constitution, ultimately helping Hitler undermine democracy and gain political power.

Goebbels presided over a communications monopoly in Germany by denouncing intellectualism and urging book burning. Today, U. S. corporations have a Goebbels-like communications monopoly, because virtually all television networks and the vast majority of other media outlets in the country are owned by a handful of corporations.

Klaus Fischer writes, "On May 10, 1933, an appalling event in the history of German culture took place-the burning of the books . . . This particular 'cleansing action' (Sauberung) was carried out by the German Student Union."

Of the book burning, Goebbels said, "The age of extreme Jewish intellectualism has now ended, and the success of the German revolution has again given the German spirit the right of way." (J. M. Ritchie, "German Literature Under National Socialism," 1983.) Today corporations discourage Americans from educating themselves about corporate wrongdoing by, as Stauber and Rampton say, "burning books before they're printed."

For example, science writer David Steinman obtained obscure government research from the Freedom of Information Act and used the information in his book, "Diet For A Poisoned Planet." Steinman wrote that many U.S. foods contained contaminants and gave readers a chance to make safer food choices by comparing the amounts of toxins contained in various foods.

Right away, corporate PR firms, including a "pesticide industry front group with deep Republican connections" went to work attacking the book. The Ketchum PR agency (representative of Dole Foods, the Beef Industry Council, Miller Brewing and many other corporate food clients) markets itself as a specialist in "crisis management," according to Stauber and Rampton. A Ketchum memo to the CALRAB food safety team read: "The [Ketchum] agency is currently attempting to get a tour schedule so that we can 'shadow' Steinman's [book promotional] appearances; best scenario, we will have our spokesman in town prior to or in conjunction with Steinman's appearances."

Stauber and Rampton's source inside Ketchum said the PR firm called every talk show where Steinman was booked, saying the shows shouldn't allow Steinman to appear without also presenting "the other side of the issue." The firm also tried to portray Steinman as an "extremist" without credibility.

According to Sharon Beder ("Global Spin") corporate front groups are a fairly recent phenomenon in America . . . a response to the rise of genuine citizen public interest organizations. One front group, the American Council on Science and Health, receives funds from Burger King, Coca-Cola, NutraSweet, Monsanto, Dow, Exxon and other corporations.

Dr. Beder, author of numerous books, and a professional engineer and senior lecturer in Science and Technology Studies at the University of Wollongong, Australia, writes that "the American Council on Science and Health is one of many corporate front groups which allow industry-funded experts to pose as independent scientists to promote corporate causes. Chemical and nuclear industry front groups with scientific sounding names publish pamphlets that are 'peer reviewed' by industry scientists rather than papers in established academic journals."

On the subject of corporate front groups, Beder quotes Mark Megalli and Andy Friedman ("Masks of Deception: Corporate Front Groups in America,"1991): "Contrary to their names, these groups often disregard compelling scientific evidence to further their viewpoints, arguing that pesticides are not harmful, saccharin is not carcinogenic, or that global warming is a myth. By sounding scientific, they seek to manipulate the public's trust."

The goal of pseudo-scientific corporate front groups, says Beder, is to cast doubt on the legitimacy of authentic environmental problems. For example, the Global Climate Coalition is a front group for various gas, oil, coal, automobile and chemical corporations; and it has battled restrictions on greenhouse gas emissions.

Global Climate Coalition has sent journalists videos claiming increased carbon dioxide levels will help feed the world's hungry by increasing crop production. The coalition has lobbied against mandatory emissions controls and asked the Clinton administration to avoid agreements that would reduce greenhouse emissions, claiming they "would damage the U. S. economy."

Corporations have worked to shape the next generation's environmental perceptions "through the development and distribution of 'educational' material to schools," writes Beder. Of course, the "educational" materials promote a corporate slant on environmental problems.

Conservative think-tanks have also opposed environmental legislation, working to cast doubt on greenhouse warming, industrial pollution and ozone depletion. These think-tanks mingle with lobbyists, consultants, interest groups and others and, as Beder says, "seek to provide advice directly to the government officials in policy networks and to government agencies and committees."

The think-tank employees ultimately "become policy makers themselves," and act more as pressure groups or interest groups than as academic institutions. Even so, says Beder, think-tank employees are treated by the media as "independent experts" and sources of expert opinion. Most conservative think-tanks promote free-market ideas, including corporate deregulation and lower taxes for the wealthy.

Corporate and think-tank PR spin doctors typically show little respect for the targets of their propaganda, and little regard for democracy. In another book by Sheldon Rampton and John Stauber, ("Trust Us, We're Experts!" - Tarcher/Putnam, 2001) the authors write, "If you ask the managers of these ever-more-expensive propaganda campaigns why they have vulgarized the democratic process [with, for example, fake grassroots campaigns], they will frequently tell you that the problem is not with them but with the voters who are too "irrational," "ignorant," or "apathetic" to respond to any other kind of appeal."

Stauber and Rampton quote Bill Greider's "Who Will Tell The People:" "On issue after issue, the public is belittled as self-indulgent or misinformed, incapable of grasping the larger complexities known to the policymakers and the circles of experts surrounding them. The public's side of the argument is said to be 'emotional' whereas those who govern are said to be making 'rational' or 'responsible' choices . . . The reality, of course, is that the ability to define what is or isn't 'rational' is itself loaded with political self-interest."

Hitler's spin doctor, Joseph Goebbels, also expressed contempt for the people and democracy. Klaus Fischer quotes the propagandist: "We go into the Reichstag in order to acquire the weapons of democracy from its arsenal. We become Reichstag deputies in order to paralyze the Weimar mentality with its own assistance. If democracy is stupid enough to give us free travel privileges and per diem allowances for this service, that is its affair. We do not worry our heads about this."

Fischer also points out that the Nazis were beneficiaries of popular anti-democratic theories of their time, and of a "totalitarian mood," which included "a wish to dismantle the egalitarian welfare state." Again, Goebbels' techniques and attitudes and the fruits of his propaganda were different in degree from those of today's corporate propagandists, but they were clearly of the same basic nature.

Goebbels and today's corporate PR firms often practice public relations as a black art, however some citizens inform people in helpful ways that produce the fruits of increased public health, safety and well-being.

For example, registered nurse and environmental activist Terri Swearingen worked to prevent the building of one of the world's largest toxic waste incinerators.  When accepting the prestigious Goldman Environmental Prize, Swearingen said, "There are experts who are working in the corporate interest, who often serve to obscure the obvious and challenge common sense; and there are experts and non-experts who are working in the public interest."

Swearingen added, "Citizens who are working in this arena-people who are battling to stop new dump sites or incinerator proposals, people who are risking their lives to prevent the destruction of rain forests or working to ban the industrial uses of chlorine and PVC plastics-are often labeled obstructionists and anti-progress. But we actually represent progress-not technological progress but social progress. We have become the real experts, not because of our title or the university we attended, but because we have been threatened and we have a different way of seeing the world."

In part three, we'll take a closer look at propaganda and politics.

[sethshead]

McGhee’s book is about the many ways racism has defeated efforts to create a more economically just America. Once the civil rights movement expanded America’s conception of “the public,” white America’s support for public goods collapsed. People of color have suffered the most from the resulting austerity, but it’s made life a lot worse for most white people, too. McGhee’s central metaphor is that of towns and cities that closed their public pools rather than share them with Black people, leaving everyone who couldn’t afford a private pool materially worse off.

[...]

This doesn’t mean that the concept of white privilege isn’t useful; obviously it describes something real. “What privilege awareness does, at its best, is reveal the systematic unfairness, and lift the blame from the victims of a corrupt system,” McGhee said. “However, I think at this point in our discourse — also when so many white people feel deeply unprivileged — it’s more important to talk about the world we want for everyone.”

So McGhee is trying to shift the focus from how racism benefits white people to how it costs them. Why is student debt so crushing in a country that once had excellent universities that were cheap or even free? Why is American health care such a disaster? Why is our democracy being strangled by minority rule? As the first line of McGhee’s book asks, “Why can’t we have nice things?” Racism is a huge part of the answer.

Americans are deeply uncomfortable talking about both race and class, unavoidable though these topics are. Our solution is to use race as a euphemism for class, and class for race. A result, indeed, was that our sense of collective purpose, of development and advancement, collapsed in favor of white me-and-mine individualist retrenchment out of terror that Those People, the racialized Other, might have nice things. The public sector and commons, the spaces where we can all come together, have been left to decay ever since, much to the detriment of all but the wealthiest among us.

This parsimonious pettiness, this association of public goods with Thee and private goods with Me, has ravaged our education systems, our arts, our research, our infrastructures, our regulatory oversight, our labor movement, our prospects, our prosperity, our life expectancy, and our power. We all suffer from a stratified, inequitable society with little mobility and much self-segregation. Is scrambling for crumbs to feel superior to somebody else really worth it? This is not a zero-sum game, and I’ve thankful that voices are finally pushing back against that framing, which has been rampant among a certain kind of trust-fund progressive. I’m tired of calls for moratoria on hiring or awarding or commissioning people from one identity group or another, issued by people cushy and insulated enough never to have to worry about securing a job or winning recognition. It’s a particularly counterproductive and abusive double-bind to threaten gratuitously someone’s self-sufficiency and then accuse them of identitarian privilege and resentment when they resist.

Privilege exists. Everyone has some, and some of us have more than others. Whiteness is absolutely one of its many axes. All else being equal (and all else is never equal), a white person will have the higher likelihood of a better outcome in most circumstances than an equivalent person who is not. Privilege does not mean, when described correctly - something neither left nor right do often - that the possessor is well off or influential or footloose and fancy-free. For many reasons, being born to money is the granddaddy of all privilege, the greatest predictor of future success. In fact, it’s often better to think of privilege as systems working for you as generally intended, while they assess others a surcharge financial and/or emotional.

The more one group tries to assert its privileges over others, however, the more fragile the coalitions and solidarity that protect our interests. We all become more vulnerable to neglect and exploitation. The more we try to bank on our unearned privilege, the less we ultimately have. To wit: labor rights are a civil rights issue, as well as an economic one. Police brutality and the carceral state detract from all our security and opportunity; it’s not just a “race issue.” The trick, the tragedy, is convincing people that we all have more, we all have nicer things, when we collaborate than when we compete in a race to the bottom.

Perhaps that euphemistic discourse does reveal something about how interrelated all our interests are, after all.

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Kinks

Dawn invites Sunny over to ‘play’. In the most euphemistic sense of the term.

Or, the one where Dawn learns that an elf’s ears are an erogenous zone and Sunny learns that a fairy’s ears are not.

Or, Potionless butt-sex as a framing device for exposition about anatomy headcanons.

Dawn had a small collection of sex toys. Most of them were innocuous enough to pass for something else.

Her nipple clamps, for example, looked like adjustable rings, or clip-on earrings, or, in the case of the set linked together by a fine chain, like a necklace with an oddly bulky clasp, and she kept them in her jewellery box.

A jar of soothing cream for muscle aches and a bottle of massage oil, both of which could also serve as lubricants, were tucked away amongst her cosmetics.

Her most explicit toy was a ceramic phallus, which was a sculpted replica of a lily stamen and could be explained as an eclectic art piece if Dawn were brazen enough to display it in a vase with petals, rather than hiding it in the deepest crevices of her rose bed.

All of Dawn’s toys were out now. Her lover, Sunny, had come over to play.

He was wearing some of her nipple clamps as earrings. Dawn flicked the delicate metal hoops, making him hiss. She was delighted to learn that the elf’s elongated ears were an erogenous zone.

They were both shirtless and barefoot. Sunny wore a pair of trousers and Dawn had on some gauzy pants that barely passed her knees.

Sunny licked one of Dawn’s nipples and blew a stream of cool air over it. She made a pleased, pleading noise. He sucked her other nipple erect.

“You know,” he commented, screwing the clamps onto her – the chained pair that could produce all manner of sensation from how the chain was held or tugged – “before we started having sex, I wasn’t sure you had these.”

“What, the toys? Yeah, I try to be discreet. Public figure and all that.” Plus her father would probably have a heart attack, if he ever found out.

“I didn’t know about those, either, but I was talking about your nipples.”

“What did you think my breasts were for?”

“Flight muscles? Your wishbone meets your collarbone here, right?” He touched the spot on her upper chest which would, if Dawn squished her breasts together, be the top of her cleavage.

“About there, yeah.”

Dawn leaned into Sunny’s hand as he stroked down the stem of her wishbone, and then up to trace the ‘Y’ shape it made with her collarbones. Fairy collarbones were slanted down towards the centre of the chest, rather than straight across like an elf’s.

“But a lot of flight power actually comes from the abdomen. And we do nurse, after the baby hatches. It’s a scent thing. Any fairy woman who spends enough time around eggs and babies picks up on it and starts lactating.”

Sunny tightened the nipple clamps. “Is this good?”

“Almost. About … three turns tighter each? Mm! Perfect.”

Sunny began experimenting with Dawn’s chain. He picked up longer or shorter sections of it and let them fall. He tugged at one side, then the other, then the centre. He made a suggestion that Dawn agreed to immediately.

Sunny undid one of the clamps for a moment so that Dawn could string the chain through the heaviest pendant in her jewellery box. She hovered over Sunny, and he tapped the pendant, making the chain swing like a pendulum. Dawn moaned. When the swinging settled as much as it could, with Dawn’s wings rocking her body, Sunny tapped it again – harder this time, and making it swing from side to side instead of front to back. Dawn rubbed her legs together.

“Come down here?” He caught the pendant in his palm and tugged gently.

“Harder,” Dawn urged, and this time he pulled. Dawn landed on her knees. When they kissed, Sunny dropped the pendant, giving her another sharp jolt of pleasure.

Dawn teased Sunny’s ears again. She flicked and tugged the rings clipped to them, making him groan. He kissed a trail along one of her ears, and –

“OW!”

“I’m sorry!” Sunny stumbled back. “Are you okay? What was that?!”

“It’s fine, I’m – Don’t do it again, but no harm done.” Dawn massaged her curled ear tip. Her heart was racing even faster than Sunny’s usual effect on her, but the pain was already gone. “Sucking my ear like that threw off my sense of atmospheric pressure. It … hurt in the not-sexy way.”

It had felt like her entire body was being crushed, but Sunny already felt bad, and Dawn didn’t want to stop yet, so she didn’t tell him that part.

“Was that something you’d like me to do to you?” she said instead.

“Yeah, that was … that was supposed to be a ‘hey, here’s a sexy thing we can do’ hint.” Sunny flushed. Dawn took his face in her hands and sucked the tip of his ear. His knees buckled.

She left her hand on his cheek to keep his head turned the right way. With her other hand, she caressed the length of his ear. Her fingernails caught the metal rings that were clipped onto him. Sunny moaned. He started playing with the nipple chain again.

“Dawn, I – You feel so good, Dawn – I want – I’m close, Dawn, you’ve got me so hard, I feel like I’m going to pop –”

Dawn let go of Sunny’s face and stuffed her hand down his trousers, wrapped it around his erection, and stroked it like she was stroking his ear.

“Do you want my mouth down here, too?”

“Do I – yes. Yes, Dawn, do that, please!”

Dawn pushed down the waistband of his pants and barely had time to put her lips around the head of Sunny’s penis before he orgasmed. Once he could feel one coming, it never took long.

It was too bad, though, Dawn reflected, that Sunny couldn’t experience multiple orgasms like she could.

She teased his foreskin with her tongue and sucked gently. Sunny groaned and pushed her away.

“Let me lean on something first, if you’re going to do that.”

“Oh, sure.”

He shed his trousers and stood with his back to the bed – and what a sumptuous image that was, like Sunny was about to tumble back into the rose petals for Dawn to ravish him.

“I know you said they aren’t sensitive that way, but is it okay if I hold onto your ears when you do this?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s not that different from pulling my hair. Do you want me to try playing with your ears next time you’re doing oral sex on me?”  

“Yes.” Sunny nodded quickly, his eyes gleaming.

Their height difference had Dawn on her hands as well as her knees. In theory she could hover for this, but she had her doubts that she wouldn’t smack her wings into Sunny’s face, or lose focus and do a belly flop onto the unforgiving stone floor.

Sunny whimpered as Dawn tongued his foreskin again; groaned as she trailed nibbling, suckling kisses along the shaft of his penis; gripped her ears tight when she licked the seam of his scrotum.

“Can you fit them in your mouth?”

“Maybe not without biting.”

“Try?”

Dawn tried.

“Ow, ow, ow, bad idea, bad idea, let go please!”

“Sorry.” She flexed her jaw side-to-side.

“Hey, you did warn me.”

“Your seed pods are bigger around than your stamen.” The elf snorted at the fairy’s flowery euphemism. “You okay to keep going?”

“Yeah. But once I’m hard again, I think I’d rather come somewhere other than in your mouth.”

Dawn spat into her hand and pumped his penis, which was beginning to re-stiffen. “How about up my ass? That’s what the lube’s for.”

“You’re serious? You’d let me do that?”

“I was actually thinking, maybe, something like … double penetration? You fuck me in one hole with your penis and the other with my toy at the same time.”

“… You are too good to be real, you know that?”

“I just accidentally bit you.”

“Even so.”

Sunny uncapped the lubricants, rubbing some cream between his fingers with one hand and some oil in the other.

“Do you prefer one?” he asked Dawn.

“The oil’s a bit slipperier, so I usually use the cream so I don’t drop anything, but they both feel really good.”

“I think I like the oil a little better?”

“Let’s use that, then.”

Sunny wiped the cream off his hand onto his abs. He would, Dawn suspected, be open to experimenting with it another time; it felt pretty nice. She poured some oil into her palm and pumped his penis again. Sunny moaned. Dawn nibbled his ear and tugged one of the rings on it with her teeth.

“You know,” he panted, “if the chain, on your nipples, could attach to that ceramic thing at the base, you could tug on your nipples by fucking yourself with it.”

That idea was so arousing that Dawn grabbed Sunny by his chest hair and yanked him up to kiss him, hard. He twisted her nipples and made her whimper.

“Was – was that sexy pain, or not-sexy pain?”

“The sexiest pain.”

“So – how are we going to do this? You should … probably lie down? I guess?”

Dawn put Sunny down and turned her back to him, fanning her wings flirtatiously. She heard him gulp. She went to her bed and fell slowly forward – the other benefit to fanning her wings then – to embrace the rose.

Dawn was kneeling again, her torso resting on her bed, the pendant still chained to her nipples sliding sensuously down between the flower petals, as she presented her buttocks to her lover.

She felt something cool and smooth on her back. Sunny was using the phallus to extend his reach and stroking between her wings.

“This really isn’t an erogenous zone, huh?”

“Nah, but that still feels nice. They may look all fancy but wings are still limbs. That would be like if your arms or legs were an erogenous zone.”

“I thought you said your thighs were?”

“Sure, my thigh, but not my whole leg.”

“And here?” He groped her butt.

“Mm … borderline? It feels sexy when you do it but I wouldn’t do it to myself while masturbating.”

He stopped petting her with the sex toy. When he next touched her backside, she could feel oil on one of his hands.

“This is what you want, Dawn?”

“Yes, Sunny. I want to have anal sex with you.”

“Okay.” He sounded like he was psyching himself up. Dawn bet herself he was biting his lip in that just unfairly attractive way he did when he was both nervous and excited.

He put one oil-slicked finger up her anus, just one knuckle deep. Dawn breathed slowly, keeping still and relaxed instead of thrusting against Sunny’s hand. He was nervous. They’d do this slowly.

Slowly, he pushed his finger all the way inside of her, and then drew it back out.

Slowly, he did it a few more times.

Teasingly slowly, he put more oil on his hand and coaxed two fingers into her.

“Scissor,” Dawn panted.

“What?”

“Scissor your fingers.” She moved on of her hands to where she was pretty sure he could see it and made the opening and closing gesture with her fingers. “It’ll stretch me for later and spread the lube around.”

“O-okay.” Sunny followed Dawn’s instructions.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned. “Just like that, keep doing that.”

“You’re really into this pain stuff, huh?”

“This doesn’t hurt. If you – ooh – lube me up right, it shouldn’t hurt at all – deeper – to take you this way, like how it doesn’t – mmph! – doesn’t hurt the other way once I’m all – ngh! – I’m all hot and wet for you. Three fingers now, please.”

“But, you do like pain?” he said as he complied. Dawn shrugged.

“Some pain is sexy.”

“No, I mean – what I’m trying to ask is, do you want me to be rougher with you during sex? Would that make it better for you?”

“I – oh yeah! – I like gentle sex, too. What we’ve done before is amazing. I don’t – mm – I don’t need pain to get turned on or get off, I just like it sometimes.”

“Does that feel like enough lube? Or should I … put more in you?”

Dawn clenched around his fingers. “This is good. You can put you in me now.”

“We are the worst at dirty talk,” Sunny muttered.

“You’re the one who started the serious conversation mid-foreplay.”

She could feel the head of his erection between the cheeks of her ass. He had one hand on each cheek, holding them spread apart.

He pushed in. Dawn whimpered. Sunny froze. She rocked under him to take him deeper. He thrust – slow and jerky, and she felt some awkward internal tugging where she hadn’t been as lubricated as she thought – and then she felt his scrotum smack into her backside.

“The toy now?” asked Sunny. He was shaking a bit, and sounded like his teeth were clenched.

“You feel so good, Sunny,” Dawn gasped out. “Yes, do it.”

The ceramic lily stamen slid in easily. Dawn was gushingly wet, messy and slimy and so very ready to be fucked. Sunny’s live stamen and her false one rubbed together through the muscle wall separating her anus and vagina.

“So good,” she repeated, her eyes nearly shut and her voice as high as it went outside of songs.

“Just … give me a sec,” Sunny grunted. His thumb, from the hand around Dawn’s sex toy, fumbled at her labia. “Just let me find your clit, then I’ll start thrusting.”

“Sunny, if I feel any better, I think I might actually die – right there right there you’ve got it oh SUNNY –”

He’d caught her clit with his thumbnail, and Dawn’s vision actually whited out for a moment. Her wings were cocooning, wrapping around her bed where Sunny would be if they were having sex face to face. Behind her, Sunny started rocking his hips, and from beneath her, he thrust the toy in and out of her.

Sunny grunted rhythmically, and Dawn keened, and the pendant had fallen into the rose petals and their body movements let its weight tug at her nipples again in time with each thrust, and Sunny was doing a little twist of his wrist that turned the stamen back and forth as it went up and down so its asymmetry rubbed Dawn just perfectly, and he couldn’t quite keep his thumb on her clitoris but he kept finding it again, and when he didn’t he could still stroke the petals of  Dawn’s labia, and oh Sunny was thrusting even harder and going even deeper and it was all SO GOOD –

Dawn collapsed, quaking from her first orgasm that day. Sunny kept going and the aftershocks built up enough to give Dawn another. She was close to a third when Sunny orgasmed again and his now-flaccid penis slid out of her.

He gasped like he’d been drowning. His grip on the ceramic stamen went slack, and Dawn had to clench her vaginal walls to keep it from slipping out of her too.

“Dawn? Could you, stay like that, but roll over? I want to try something.”

It was difficult. Her wings were curled around her bed and didn’t want to fold back. But Dawn got onto her back, legs hanging over the edge of her bed. Sunny had pulled the stamen out of her. She’d whimpered but hadn’t articulated a protest, figuring he’d done it for whatever he wanted to try.

Sunny held the ceramic stamen where Dawn could see it. The anther and filament were thoroughly coated in her fluids, even at the base of the shaft where he’d been holding it. There were shiny patches of stickiness on his hand as well. He licked one.

“Can we do another round of double penetration, but with this up your ass and with oral sex?”

“Yes,” Dawn moaned ecstatically – the idea was almost enough to set off the third orgasm she was so close to.

Sunny put the toy up her ass much more smoothly than he had his erection – maybe it had been too tight for him to move comfortably? – and kissed Dawn’s pubic mound, tugging one of her labial petals into his mouth.

Dawn held his ears and teased at the clamps he was still wearing there. Sunny moaned – she could feel the vibrations of it in the fold he was suckling. The stamen felt wonderful in her and his mouth felt wonderful on her and Dawn licked her fingers and drew them along his ear from root to the tip and made Sunny moan again.

“I love you so much,” he mumbled into her vagina.

Dawn was about to say ‘I love you, too,’ but then he sucked hard at her clitoris and bit down on it and instead she shrieked as her third orgasm finally crashed down over her.

When Dawn came back to her senses, she thought at first that Sunny was masturbating. He had a cloth around his penis and was pumping it. Then she noticed the bowl from her en suite bathroom, filled with water and soap suds, and realized he was washing himself.

“Hey,” she said languidly.

“Hey.” He smiled. “I figured if we were doing anything else, or done for the day, it wouldn’t hurt either way to clean up a bit.”

“I think you wore me out. You’re really amazing, you know?”

“So are you.”

Dawn unclipped her nipples and Sunny’s ears, putting the clamps back in the jewellery box on her vanity. Leaving the pendant on the chain wouldn’t rouse any suspicions if one of her handmaidens happened to look in there. She capped and put away the lubricants. She didn’t see the stamen anywhere and started feeling around in the petals of her bed.

“I put your toy in the water,” said Sunny. “I wasn’t sure how to clean it, but I figured soapy water couldn’t hurt.”

“No, that’s perfect. I just have to rinse all the soap off before using it again.”

“I … also had a couple of idea, for next time.”

“Oh?” Dawn settled back down on the bed, watching him eagerly. Sunny blushed.

“First, those clamp things. Have you ever tried putting one on your clitoris?”

“I can’t. By the time I’m aroused enough that it’s engorged, it’s too sensitive and if I try I can’t concentrate enough to put one on.” She gave Sunny a sultry grin. “Maybe you could.”

“And the other, was …” Sunny cupped a hand behind one of his ears and pushed forward. It bent, but not much; cartilage was more flexible than bone, but still had some stiffness to it. “It felt, really good, all that stuff with my ears today. And I was wondering if, you know, for mutual enjoyment, next time we experiment, I could put one of my ears up your vagina.”

Dawn’s eyes widened and, despite her tiredness, she felt an unmistakable pulse of arousal. They were narrower and more pointed, but Sunny’s ears were each nearly the length of his erection …

“That sounds hot. We should definitely try out that one.”