#this is going to be short and just for fun so don't expect it to detract from sweet sacrifice or any other WIPs i have going on

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 1]

The first time Tim sees him, he is seven, standing by his Father's side, and bored out of his mind.

The 'party' is numbingly dull, full of adults, sparkling flutes of champagne, tiny sandwiches, and fake twinkling laughter. Tim doesn't understand how his parents find any of it interesting; in his opinion, nothing about just talking to people for hours and hours straight sounds as exciting as they make it look.

He wishes he could just go home already. Not that his time in the Drake estate gets any more exciting than bothering house elves or spending his day in the library, but it's still better than this.

Or, Tim thought so until he heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering on the floor.

He turns around, and there are yelps and screams of surprise and angry swearing. It takes Tim a few seconds to realize what's going on - a few people are holding their hands to their faces, like trying to hide them, and he gets a glimpse of an elephant trunk peeking through the palms of one old lady.

And then, there's a sound of loud, delighted laughter ringing through the room, and the sound of footsteps, and-

"DANIEL!" Tim hears Mr. Masters, the host of the event, yell at the top of his lungs.

A moment later, Tim sees a boy zooming past him, elbowing the adults on his way to push through the crowd and still cackling like a madman. Tim doesn't get a good look at him, what with the boy running so fast he almost trips, but he does notice the messy black hair and the large, knitted blue sweater that looks too big on the boy's body.

"Daniel Jackson Fenton, come back this instant!" Mr. Masters calls again, his thunderous steps louder than all the yelling around them.

The boy doesn't even deign him with a look over his shoulder. Instead, he darts towards the nearest window, opens it with what seems to be practiced ease, and climbs on the windowsill. Only then does he look back to the chaos he created in the room full of respectable guests, and grins.

Tim blinks. He's never seen anyone smile like this, all teeth and mischief, and cheeky excitement.

"What, too old to catch me, Vlad?" He sticks his tongue at Mr. Masters, and just for a moment, Tim is scared the man is going to lunge at him. Yet, right as Mr. Masters gets close enough, the boy pushes off and jumps out the window, his laughter echoing through the night.

Mr. Masters looks like he is about to follow - and Tim is, for once, curious to see if he would - but stops himself short, only leaning out the window.

"Don't bother coming back, you little badger, you are grounded!" The man yells. The only response he gets is another fit of distant cackling from the gardens.

"That is sure a way to entertain the crowd," Father says quietly, and the tall, dark-skinned woman he's been talking to before the whole mess happened snorts a short laugh.

Tim looks back to the few people who are still sporting elephant trunks for their noses.

It's the first time he thinks a party full of adults in stuffy robes can be more fun than he expected.

—☆—☆—☆—

Some visuals for v i b e s

The room where the scene took place:

Tim's drawing after he was back home from the party (house elves helped):

[Picrew]

—☆—☆—☆—

I have the vaguest possible idea of where I'm going, but this is definitely going to be a multichapter thing.

A few notes I've got pinned down so far:

Drakes are a mostly pureblood family, not filthy rich and straight up focused on the whole purity thing, but keeping their reputation clean and nice, and their income stable. Both Jack and Janet have attended Hogwarts, and they were both Ravenclaws while they were at it. Janet might have some relation to Blacks, but it's so distant that she doesn't bother keeping it in mind.

Vladimir Masters is, technically, a pureblood wizard, but his family has been in England for only two or so generations. His grandma (who is still very much alive) came from Russia after falling madly in love with Vlad's grandpa (who is now deceased and, as the rumor goes, his wife had a hand in it). He also attended Hogwarts and has been a Ravenclaw in the same year as Madeline Fenton nee Walker. Hence, Daniel Fenton is his godson and, unofficially, as of right now, heir to Masters family.

[part 2 ->]

[tagintagout-au]

(Walking into the spacious room, you see Darkness spread onto the walls, an infection consuming the House from the inside.)

(On the opposite side of the room, stands a lone figure, brightly cutting through.)

(Their cloak flows gently with a wind that isn't there.)

🔷️: ...

⭐️: ...

🪨: ...

🔨: ...

🎀: ...

(They have their back turned to you. You could just strike now, and...)

✨️: ...Saviors of Vaugarde.

✨️: I have been waiting... so long...  for you to arrive....

✨️: One year.

✨️: One year...

✨️: Of hardship, of fighting, of a race against time. Against the Universe's will.

✨️: Oh... dear saviors...

✨️: I... I...!

✨️: Do you REALIZE how bored I was?

(Wait.)

✨️: Don't you know it's rude to keep and enemy waiting?

(Did they say this before...?)

✨️: Now, now, don't be so surprised! Even I can have some fun from time to time!~

✨️: But I guess I should introduce myself properly, in case your memory's foggy! None of that "Star" business.

✨️: The name's Antagonist, Tag for short!~ Such a cute nickname, isn't it? Don't forget it!

⭐️: ...Can we, uh, just-

✨️: Can we what? Get on with it? No no no dear stardust, why don't you give me a little more time, hm?

⭐️: Wh- no!

⭐️: I'm not going to let you just... just keep talking, you attacked this country, you've been hurting so many people-

✨️: My, how rude! Honestly, I'd expect you to get a little more creative by now!

✨️: But, I suppose if you're that desperate, sure!~

(For just a moment, you could've sworn the Star glanced over at you.)

✨️: Aaaalright, then! Let's all fight like a wonderful little family~

✨️: And let's see which actor plays their role best!

[joffyworld]

FURTHERMORE,

PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD,

IGNORE THE NUMBERS

They mean nothing.

One thing I forgot to mention is that there's this expectation some people I've spoken to have that if their post doesn't do its usual numbers of notes or comments or likes, whatever the platform you're on uses, then it wasn't "worthwhile" or people "didn't like it".

Dude. Bro. Girly. They. It.

Whatever notes you get, whether it's 10k or 1 is a genuine life touched. People don't come on here and reblog or share or like without having felt something. Okay, yeah, sure, maybe you didn't explode and reach 50 thousand people and they didn't all simultaneously explode from excitement.

BUT THAT'S OKAY.

Social media platforms are designed around algorithms to push content they assume people want to see. Quite frankly, however, these algorithms suck balls. Tumblr might be one of the better in terms of posts reaching audiences and old posts gaining recognition for a long time after they were posted, but it's still just a computer throwing shit on a screen.

I see, and talk to, a lot of artists that feel they can't OC post or that they have failed because "my usual audience size didn't all see the post I made" when there's a dozen things beyond their control that affect whether or not people even know they've uploaded. Here's a short list of shit that can affect whether or not your post is seen by the average joe:

Tags

Notes

Fandom or OC

Followers

Time of Day

The weather outside

The Algorithm™

Luck

Hype around a fandom at a given time

Trends

A total of ONE of these you can control, being the tags. You have literally no say whether your post does well or not, at it SHOULDN'T MATTER. As discussed in the original post, do art for you! These numbers are genuine people behind a screen that have felt touched by what you have made. It doesn't matter whether that's one person ever, or a million people at once. People were altered even in the smallest ways by your creation, whether it was a smile or a happy cry, and that's beautiful. That's what art is, an expression of self that others can find comfort in when shared. But the key words are "EXPRESSION OF SELF." Not what the audience wants, not what God wants, but what you want.

Let me put it this way:

If you open a hospital, and are used to treating a million people a day but then suddenly have a day where only 5 people show up in need of help, is that a bad day? Or is it just good that people didn't need help? One day they might and you'll still be there because hospital equipment doesn't just vanish into thin air one day.

Audiences will see your work when they need to, and when they don't they won't. There's no two ways about it, you're fighting impossible odds if you try to make it any other way. So just let it be, do art for you and fuck everyone else. Because ultimately, the only person you're fucking by doing otherwise is yourself, and the world does plenty of that for us by default.

So go ahead, OC post! Create porn! Create the most angst-riddled depressing shit you possibly can! Don't worry about whether or not it'll do numbers and blow up big, because it doesn't matter! All that matters is that you had fun, and every life you touch with your work is a genuine human connection made over impossible distances that otherwise would've never occurred. Even posting this I'm speaking to people all the way from China to Mexico.

Will they see it? Who knows! But it doesn't matter, as long as one person sees it then that's a good thing. If nobody sees it that's great too! It means nobody needed to, so the world didn't need more lecturing on how to be happy.

Live life folks. No matter who you are, someone loves you, whether they know it yet or not, whether you know it yet or not.

Thank you for coming to my inane rant, have a good day! :D

From,

Jofferson

DO ART FOR YOU! 🫵

FUCK EVERYONE ELSE!!!

Seriously.

I'm so sick and weary of logging on here and seeing creators I adore, and people I don't even know alike, apologising for not uploading or basically begging for a break like they're not a human with needs.

You're literally a human being, with thoughts, feelings and emotions. You're not an art factory, you're not some positivity pump, you're nothing other than a genuine human being living a genuine life experience.

SO GO LIVE IT!!!

YOU OWE THE INTERNET NOTHING!!!!

There should be, and realistically is, no shame in just fucking leaving if you want to. There's no contract you signed, there's no permit you bought or lease you hold. You're a person who decided to share their art with the world, FOR FREE, and garnered an audience of faceless people behind screens who enjoy that art because YOU wanted to make it and share it.

Let me be frank as best I can. You owe the internet nothing, you owe the world nothing and you owe yourself EVERYTHING. You are the only person who can live your life, you are the only person who can create the things you create and you are the only motherfucker that should matter to you when you create those things.

Art is supposed to be a wondrous joy that inspires the mind and indulges ideas that other creatures can't even comprehend. It's supposed to be a magical and fun fantasy land where anything is possible because you make it possible. It's not a 9-5 unless you make it one, so stop making your hobby a 9-5 unless you're getting paid for it, and even then put in limits because no job that you choose to do should end in you burnt out and wishing you'd never started in the first place.

Remember when we were all kids? When we all drew and wrote for fun simply because we could? We'd show people are shit and be like "Mama look!" and she'd clap her hands all proud. But she wasn't why you picked up that crayon, you just did it for you because you wanted to make some shit.

That's how it should be. That's how it is unless you let those fake ass numbers on a screen rule your life. It's all meaningless, the praise may be genuine but that doesn't mean you should spend your whole life running in circles and performing for an audience.

Be a human being! Be an artist! Fuck everyone else!

Just be yourself <3

[in-a-bucket]

Project Eden's Garden CH 1 thoughts

hey so this probably isn't gonna be coherent at all cause i just finished the chapter and it took my like 12 hours to finish it so i have not slept but i just need to get my thoughts out lol

uh anyway major spoilers for the whole chapter you have been warned

so for the chapter as a whole i had a great time playing it! you can really see all the love and care put into this project. that being said, this chapter was CARRIED by it's deadly life/trial section, at least in my opinion. the daily life wasn't like terrible by any means it just didn't feel like a whole lot happened? the days felt really short, like the day you explore the new area is literally, wake up, meet in the dining hall briefly, explore the new area, and then go to bed. i was like ????? how is the day already done what. and then when the motive was introduced it was a bit lackluster, the concept was really cool with the pictures and the vague messages for the blackmail, but then we barely find out what anyone's information and the few people we do find out isn't super bad (expect for wolfgang kind of, maybe?), hell damon is not once concerned about the motive and none of the other characters seem all that concerned about it either which i think kinda brings the tension and stakes down. it's pretty evident when you find out the killer's motive as nothing to do with the blackmail and they weren't even concerned over their own blackmail so they have to create an entirely separate motive with the whole traitor perk thing, and it's not like that came out of thin air cause you're told about the secret prize from the get go i just don't get why they didn't use the motive they already made instead of revealing it all at the end of the trial from tozu.

ok whoops getting kind of off topic there but yeah daily life, it just felt like there could have been more, maybe it just has to do with the kind of guy damon is, but it kind of felt like we were dragging our feet from time to time idk maybe im just insane.

as for deadly life, holy shit they made some ballsy decisions here. can't really say whether they were good ones yet or not since we still have 5(?) more chapters but i have to respect the devs for who the first victim and killer ended up being (i'll get to them later). i remember thinking (man this is a pretty long investigation lol), although it probably didn't help that it took me forever to find the blood in the hallway i was genuinely so confused as to what i was missing I went back into all of the storage closets and like triple checked i had exgauhsted all dialogue, and then i was trying the move my mouse all over the place to see if there was anything else to search and then i finally found it.

the trial was so fucking fun, as devastated as i was due to who the victim was it was a ton of fun figuring out the crime and i genuinelly thought it was gonna be diana and i was gonna be done with the trial in about 2 hours and only to hit and intermission and realize i hadn't used like half my evidence yet. the mechanism of the crime was really cool too and i had a lot of fun solving it, even if i did start to lose the plot when it came to the stuff of the cord and the vent but that might've just been me being tired. I will say i did not enjoy the bullet hell argument whatever it's called at the very end, the artwork was really cool but it took me FOREVER to beat it, and myabe that's just cause i'm bad at video games but ti was so frustrating getting to stage 3 multiple times then loosing all of my health and having the start all over again. i think it would have been better if you run of of health you have to start from the beginning of whatever stage you died on but hey maybe i just suck at the game idk.

okay now on to some more character specific stuff, first of all WOLFGANG AKIRE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU GAHHHH

ugh i'll admit it, i'm actually devastated he died first like seriously thank god the trial was as good as it was cause i might have stopped playing if it wasn't lol. in all seriousness though i was so excited for how he'd handle someone killing and all of the reprecussions with that only for him to die first lol. i really hope that this isn't the last we get to hear about him though, like i hope he's not just like a passing thought in ch 2 and then never mentioned again kind of a thing like hopefully he'll be plot relevant in the future or something idk i just want more wolfgang he's my fav BRING HIM BACKKKK. maybe we'll get to learn more about him through grace cause i'm now like 99% sure they knew each other before this whole mess lmao i mean come on grace wanted to be roomies with him and she was so fucking devastated by him dying and didn't want people poking around his room like come on.

and just everything you find out about his situation in the trial is just devastating oh my godddd. i was really worried they were gonna pull the whole "omg guys wolfgang was killed in self-defense and he was actually terrible this whole time and you all should have believed me(damon) cause i was right all along memememememe" and they didn't thank god. just that whole scene where diana reveals their confrontation was just so good like that is one of my top fangan scenes of all time now. just all the stuff he was saying revealing stuff about his character that might NEVER BE ELABORATED ON CAUSE HES FUCKING DEAD NOW WTFFFF WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS. and the voice acting was fucking incredible holy shit NAD THE FUCKING SPRITE WORK OH MY GOD THAT SHIT WAS AMAZING. the sprites for wolfgang and eva (i'll get to her later) were so fucking good i mean just look at this shit

LIKE THIS IS DEVESTATING TO ME LIKE HOLY FUCK BRO I NEED TO KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON IN UR HEAD AND NOW I NEVER WILL CAUSE UR DEAD UGHHHHHH

it's really funny cause i actually ended up doing all of his FTEs not knowing he was gonna die

now let's talk about eva cause holy fuck girl. i remember after the prologue she was one of my least favorite characters, cause it felt like her whole personality was "ooooo look at how mysterious and cool I am ooooooooo", but then you get the reveal that she lied about being the ultimate liar and you get her normal talent and she actually shows an actual personality and is a video game nerd i was like "omg yes i'm loving the p:eg team's take on this!" and she was moving up my character tier list ranking very quickly, and then she was revealed as the killer and she tried to pin everything on damon and then her reasons for killing wolfgang in the first place and she went right back down to the bottom LMAO. not because i thought she had bad writing or something but at the end of the day her motivations for taking the perk were pretty selfish and while i agree that wolfgang shouldn't have been trying to isolate her like that she kind of put a target on herself for no reason by lying about her talent like girl what did you think was going to happen lol. also her execution was fucking brutal, it looked incredible but damn was it brutal, she didn't need to go out like that omg.

as for some other characters, always gonna love my girls grace and cassidy they were a delight as always and i look forward to seeing more of them, diana went up on my tier list and i'm looking forward to seeing where her character goes from here, i'm also really loving jean a lot but he feels a little too helpful so i fear he might die next chapter lol.

i feel like there's more i have to say but im so tried lol so yeah have whatever this is lol. overall i had a great time playing and everyone did an amazing job working on it (even if i am really upset you killed my fav), i look forward to whatever the next chapter brings!

[eenslaved]

Ray and Joshua's Girl

BDSM erotica. Fictional characters over 18. Strictly fictional fantasy.

When she hears footsteps on the stairs, she tenses, uncertain of who is approaching. The son, back for more, or the father this time?

They both take turns using her, in this unassuming house set far back at the end of a long driveway, distanced from any neighbors.

The lights are flipped on and she sees Joshua's face beaming at her.

"Well, hello there," Joshua coos at her. "Looks like Da's already been at you today."

She blushes. Her feet are tied above her head, her thighs splayed wide apart. Her pussy and ass are tilted up at him, and Joshua can see for himself the sticky leavings of his dad's cum coating her sex.

Joshua comes to stand over her. His eyes are greedy and avid as they roam her naked, bound body. She sucks in a breath as his hands mold over her breasts, freely feeling her up because she can't stop him.

She has to try again. "Please let me go, Joshua. It's...you've had your fun, OK? I-I won't tell anyone, I swear."

Joshua shakes his head at her. "You are home," he insists. "This is your home now. Da and I talked it over; we're keeping you. You're our girl now. You belong to us and we'll take such good care of you."

Her heart sank. "No, please. You-you can't do this. This is so...you could get in so much trouble when someone finds out..."

"No one's going to find out," Joshua soothed. "You're safe here. You need us. That motel wasn't a safe place and you won't last the winter living on the streets. Here, you've got a bed, food, water, a roof over your head. All we want is your obedience." 

Her eyes well with tears as he hurts her nipples, pinching them cruelly. 

Joshua unties her wrists first, putting the manacles on her, and then releases her legs. He leads her into the bathroom where her arms are pulled up over her head.

He takes his time washing her body, soaping up every part of her, slapping at her thighs to get her to widen her stance. He strokes her until she's slippery and gasping, legs trembling, and then hoses her off. The jet of water aimed at her clit makes her dance in a performance he clearly enjoys.

After she's clean and dry, Joshua dresses her in a pink babydoll nightgown. She's so grateful to be clean and released from her uncomfortable bondage that when he pushes his sweats down and he slaps her face lightly with his cock, she just kneels there with her mouth open.

Joshua's father, Ray, arrives just as she's swallowing thick jets of cum.

"Good, you washed her," Ray says, pleased. He takes a seat in the broken-in leather armchair and watches as she cleans Joshua's cock with her tongue. "Come here, girl. Sit on your Daddy's lap now."

Her face burns and her insides churn with humiliation as she does as he asks, perching gingerly on his hard thigh. Ray settles her more firmly into the position he prefers, which is where her feet don't touch the ground and she has to cling to him for balance. 

Ray's hands immediately disappear under the short hem of the babydoll gown, blunt fingers seeking out her wet heat. He isn't disappointed by what he finds there. She squirms as his fingers tease more wetness out of her.

"Put your arms around me," Ray encourages. 

He turns his face into her cleavage, nuzzling her boobs. She gulps and tries not to come. All she can do is obey. She doesn't dare do different. Ray doesn't hesitate to punish her for any signs of disobedience or the merest hint of rebellion. He is consistent about his methods of discipline: first corporal punishment, then a stint of solitary in the hated deprivation hood.

His methods are effective.

As much as she's been able to pick up, Ray is divorced and has been for years. Joshua isn't in contact with his mom at all. It's just the two of them living here, operating the family-owned garage. The two men are self-sufficient. They haven't expected her to cook or clean or anything like that. That's not what they need her for.

"I'm plannin' on having anal sex with her later," Joshua says. 

"Rub some icy hot on her clit before you do that," Ray says, enjoying the shudder that runs through her frame. "Makes it even better."

"Is that why she was carrying on so much last night?"

"Yep. It's good to let her work her lungs out. And now she knows there ain't anyone around to hear her and come banging on our door. Isn't that right, sweetie?"

"Yes, Daddy," she whispers. Her tears are hot. Her pussy is pulsing and clenching on his fingers, an appalling response. This is so awful and there's no escape that she can see.

[danwhobrowses]

I'm not sure how much good this vent will do, I'm not even sure I want to post this vent after my last one, but I'm writing it just so it's out of my head and into words because it seems once again fandom has chosen to send vitriol Ashton Greymoore's way.

What for? They talked to a 'specter' of the primordial titan within them, through their connection to the earth, the natural flow of creation and destruction. They ask what will happen to the world, it responds that it'll endure, they ask what of the people, it responds that the strong will survive and the weak will be remade into something stronger, to which Ashton replies they think they understand. To fandom this means that Ashton is becoming a fascist, that they have a 'Make Exandria Great Again' attitude for wanting the Primordials back, that they need to be beaten up or 'get what's coming to them' in order to change their mind, and I can only sit here and stew and wonder if this hate is really well-founded? Ashton is among my favourite characters in C3, I get frustrated by them at times too but if I think about it a big percentage of my frustrations is more towards people disliking them than me disliking things they do, or Matt setting up scenarios that doesn't do them any favours towards the fandom that hates them. Some of these are knee-jerk reactions of course, but for others it does feel like they have it out for Ashton, and I don't wanna engage with that, which makes it quite lonely when most of the fandom hones in on it.

For the most part I can understand how the whole 'the weak will be remade' bit can be taken badly; it's definitely iffy, but every other plan we have is also very iffy. The Release Predathos option literally involves unleashing an entity that wants to genocide the gods, the Maintain Status Quo option ('option' the status quo imo is impossible, in my mind the Gods can stay but the dynamic will still have to change) maintains a relationship where the gods pick and choose who they feel deserves help, using their power to covet more power, strongarm and demand loyalty, and overall choose fellow gods over mortals when the chips are down and not owning up to it. We should also remember that entities can speak in riddles, 'remade into something stronger' doesn't necessarily mean death; it could mean to adapt and grow, to become strong enough to bear and overcome it as many of the PCs of Critical Role have done with their hardships and trauma. It's worth reminding that the sad truth is that people will die whatever outcome happens - the aim is always to lessen the amount but if the Gods leave it's a power vacuum, if we linger too long it's a Calamity, and if the Gods stay it's a holy war on a more wild and less organized scale - and that Ashton isn't saying they approve of such death, merely that they think they understand. The commune doesn't tell Ashton which way to go; it only tells them that the world will endure, there will be change and it will change people, trees will still grow, the wind will still blow, the waves will still flow along the coasts of the sea, and people will survive. I know the interpretation can differ from people thanks to Matt's patented vague or riddle-mounted choices in phrase, but I also think if it was the Wildmother who told Orym or some other follower that 'nature is a cycle, everything must adapt to change or else it'll die - this world will change, but it will also survive' nobody would be calling Orym a fascist, people would accept it because the Wildmother's domain is nature, and nature is not always kind.

While we're mentioning Orym - and because this is gonna come off as critical I must preface that I like and enjoy All of the Hells, that's not changed - I also gotta call it out here because it does very much feel like the people who hate Ashton hate them for the reasons they love Orym. Both are stubborn, they're diligent in their personal code, they care deeply for their friends and would give their whole being just to keep them safe, they believe in the Hells' power and greatness more than each member does and more than they believe in their own, but Ashton gets the hate mainly because these fans agree more with Orym on the god stuff. What confuses me though is how these same haters can despise Ashton for being consistent but love Braius, the literal Devil Worshipper who secretly is on board with the Chase Away plan only so he can help the Devil rule the world, the compulsive liar. Where's Braius' scrutiny? A world under Asmodeus will be a far worse 'survival of the fittest' scenario, why does Braius get a pass in all this stuff huh? Because he's funny? Seems people ignore the whole morality talk when they're discussing Braius' dedication to Exandrian Satan.

I find it irksome too that even the group seem to criticize Ashton reaching out to Primordials too - as if that wasn't what we wanted them and Fearne to do anyway. They don't dislike the gods simply because they're a 'great entity', it's because they're a great entity that holds power and doesn't use it equally or fairly; they pick and choose who to help, a lot of the time in Ashton's experience for their own self-service, but they won't prioritize mortals over another god no matter who cruel or heinous the god is being, and the following of these gods are so intertwined with politics that most religious motivation also ends up being political. Ashton has no connection to the gods, they reached out and got nothing, an Angel looked at them and made them feel like nothing, but they do have a connection to the Primordials; from the Earth Golem to the Titan Empress they're literally a vessel of, they experienced something significant in their connection to the Earth, so I don't like how that they're almost mocked for having it. In addition, Ashton's behaviour during this commune differs because of that connection, but also because the titans are a natural flow; they don't demand or test or politic or prejudice, and despite being a Great Entity in its own right it never made sure Ashton felt small for their own satisfaction, they asked a question and got an answer, it's the same reason Ashton has disdain for most political leaders but likes and respects Keyleth, Allura, Kima, Pike, and (eventually) Percy despite also being people in power. To call on Orym and the Wildmother as an example again; Orym's an Air Ashari, the Ashari are guardians of the Elemental Planes - made from the Primordials - not tied to a god, but nobody criticizes his connection to the Wildmother despite both not being a follower and his culture being more tethered to Primordials and their descendants. I'm not saying it's all correct for Ashton to want things to go back to how Primordials ruled, but we must remind ourselves also that we only know a story written by victors when it comes to the Schism - a story which could very easily have been altered and edited to make it feel more justified for the Primes and mortals to actively genocide all the Primordials, the native species and creators of this world, and desecrate their remains to make weapons, soul anchors, and cities - the specter didn't say 'fuck em, all mortals should die' after all, if they believe mortals would survive then they must be at the least tolerant of mortal existence. Why is it okay for god followers to say they wanna keep the world with the gods they have a connection to (and I'm not saying they aren't) but Ashton is out of line for wanting to have a world which has something active that they also have a connection to? It seems rather unfair to allow one side to have and the other to have not, picking and choosing because our audience's bias has spent more time with the gods, Ashton wanting something they can connect to doesn't feel all wrong either, the Eidolons still exist with faint worship hiding away so they're not smited by the gods, why can't faith exist so they're not in hiding? I sincerely doubt the Punk Rock that is Ashton is asking for the Primordials to fill the Gods' roles the same way the Gods have been running things either, they want to break the throne remember? There needs to be a balance in ideals and practice of course, and in an ideal world there could even be a more fluid and all-inclusive Exandria where gods and Eidolons live harmoniously with mortals without hierarchy and class systems, I think Ashton could happily live with something like that, they did say the world needs 'a little chaos' to call back to Matt hinting that the current world doesn't have enough.

Which leads us to those wishing violence upon Ashton - and I really don't like that. People who say 'hitting them over the head is the only language they understand' seem to misinterpret Ashton as if everyone around them have been on their hands and knees begging Ashton to reconsider and them ignoring valid points and pulling a Leroy Jenkins. In reality, nobody is actually talking to Ashton about it, a lot of the frustration with Bells Hells right now is that they aren't talking to each other, even about the end goal! Ashton has valid reasons for their thinking, so being violent isn't gonna change their mind; undermining, dehumanizing and trying to effectively bully anyone let alone someone with chronic pain and low self worth will never truly convince them to your way of thinking. All people understand the language of violence, but that language is not used justly, those who truly wish violence upon Ashton don't want it in hopes it'll force Ashton to change their mind, they want it for their own satisfaction of seeing them in pain; so they can further push them away from the rest of the group and go 'that guy's not one of us', make it so the people Ashton calls family after a lifetime of loneliness, confusion and abandonment - the people they promised they won't abandon, and have kept true on that promise even at their lowest - make them feel small and worthless, and force them into box where they can't be themselves, and I hate that people would want to treat them that way. Ashton IS capable of listening; they've stepped back and trusted the other Hells to do their own thing even when it's ridiculous like staging a play where they pretend to be Ludinus to trick Unseelie emissaries into thinking that he attacked them, they listened to the gods even when they didn't have to like they promised they would and despite it being very personal they held themselves back for the benefit of the group, and if the group talked to them calmly where they were all allowed to healthily discuss the pros and cons, the ideals and compromises, and the risk and reward of all plans that have been proposed then they would listen, and they would try - you don't need to slice bread with a broadsword.

Will Ashton 'get what's coming to them'? Maybe, but what is that exactly? We only assume to know the full vision of what Ashton wants to act on. All of Bells Hells are gonna face the consequences of the choice they make on Ruidus - when they finally make one that is - in and out of the world they live in, so won't that apply to everyone? So what for Ashton? do people want Fractures 2.0? Does everything Ashton wants in life have to blow up violently in their face? Family, Closure, their best friend's safety, why does 'what's coming to them' have to be something aggressive and harmful? People change through positive reinforcement and good experiences too! Caduceus Clay would remind you that it's love that makes people. Don't mistake this rant as me wanting Ashton to be exactly as they are now, I too want to see growth from Ashton and we ARE seeing it happen; I see it in small instances where they think twice about rash actions and try not to fly off the handle, when they sit just to listen or understand or to defuse tension, and that when they're going somewhere or doing something they let the group know in advance, those who think Ashton hasn't changed since ep. 1 aren't paying close attention, but that doesn't mean that they don't still have more ground to cover. I believe that Ashton grows the most through kindness; when they're treated like a person and not a blunt instrument or a nuisance, and I hope what's 'coming' for Ashton isn't rejection, bitterness, and isolation, but acceptance, empathy, and for someone - if you know me you'd know who I'd want it to be - to convince them that they are worthy of living, that they're special not because of their powers or blood or because they have died and been put back together again (honestly, it does irk me a little that both Keyleth and Imogen chose that for titles and to brag to the Matron, I know it isn't intended this way but sometimes it feels like saying 'your best defining quality is that you've died a lot') but because while they have every reason to hate everything they still chose to be kind to those who deserve kindness, they have a good heart and they mean well. Are they perfect? No! They're in their 20s very few people irl have their lives together at even twice that age, but I want them to have good things in their life; things that help them feel happy and safe and like they can still feel comfortable in their own skin without having to appear more 'palatable' for people who've already decided that they don't like them. I want them to know that they've always deserved to live and they still deserve it now, I want that not just for Ashton but for all the Hells, and hopefully they'll all live to have it.

And most of all I want the people who hate them to be wrong about Ashton Greymoore, and I want Taliesin to prove them wrong.

[bonefall]

I’m rereading Po3 and despite its flaws I really enjoyed the introduction to the three. Jaykit isn’t mentioned to be blind in the first few chapters and instead they chose to show how much MORE capable he is compared to his littermates; until at the end of chapter 3, he brings up his blindness on his own. It makes forcing him to be a medicine cat SO much more frustrating because it really feels like they’re setting him up to be a warrior and choose his own fate (note i haven’t finished the reread this is just my first impression)

I like how you seem to take that path in BB regardless! It makes his arc so much more enjoyable

His arc in canon is super frustrating because he's such an independent character who clearly wants to make his own decisions in life, but then he just gets shoved into the medcat den. I LIKE that he ultimately goes there and that he enjoys it; but it was still really fucked up that they stripped away his autonomy in the process.

Re: they are not real, they are writing choices. Taking away the choices a disabled character can make over their own life, forcing them into a celibate nun role, and then going "awwwww dont worry see? he likes it! This was the best thing for him :)" was fucked up.

And imo it didn't have to be that way! You wouldn't have to go the FULL route I did with big changes, he could just be more involved in the descision to stop being a warrior apprentice and it would be fine. Minor change that would make a world of difference.

I do also have to interject to say though... blindness should really not be an extremely severe impairment for a ThunderClan cat.

I'm dead serious.

Whiskers are built-in sensors that tell you the exact position of everything within several inches of your head, ears swerve to pick up sound, and the jacobson's organ provides a sense of smell so keen that I have an entire Clanmew expansion draft because I needed to make WORDS describing the power of this sense that humans do not have. I cannot stress enough how delicate their other senses are, felines do not rely on their sight like primates do

ThunderClan lives in a mixed-oak woodland, where sight is already often obscured by foliage, objects are close together (for whiskers to feel), and nearly every movement makes noise against the leaf litter. RiverClan and (moor-running) WindClan cats would have a harder time with this disability than Thunder or Shadow.

Cat sight SUCKS to begin with. It sucks BADDD. They don't have color vision, they're significantly nearsighted, and they can't track up-and-down movements well. WC doesn't write realistic cats (more like small fuzzy people really) and I also work with more humanesque eyesight, but the only thing Jay should really lose is an ability to rapidly track a small animal swerving fast. Blind cats are often still excellent hunters in spite of that!

So it's an extra big waste that they railroaded him into a position he didn't choose, saying he couldn't be a warrior. This is the perfect disability to write, if you want to explore how ableism can impact the characters in this society who ARE legitimately still capable of nearly full independence, but still need to find accommodations for what they can't do.

In the same arc they're doing the dumb Cinder Reincarnation Plotline, no less!! Where SHE is also feeling like she has no choice over her "destiny," and gets a conflict over a potentially disabling injury

"Oh nooo if cinderpaw breaks her leg she wont be a warrior!"

"What the f-- Im Jaypaw and im reporting live from the scene where a Category 1 Idiot Moment is taking place. Woman breaks leg, suddenly everyone believes she is a horse, more at 11."

One of these days I should really make "herb guides" just covering how various sensory disabilities impact the lives of Clan cats and some tips for writing them as warriors, especially between Clans. Stuff you wouldn't usually consider, like how much noise deaf cats tend to make, how RiverClan would get a ton of sinus infections and lose their sense of smell, being blind in Sky vs Thunder, etc.

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the new ask game

"If I have to force you I will"

Brudick

send a ship and a quote and i'll write a a short fic!

this is so inspired, anon. here's 2.7k of BruDick whump. warning for non-con somnophilia, but it's very brief. the whole fic is very non-con/dead dove in nature tho. this takes place during Jason's Robin era. enjoy <3

Dick could feel Bruce’s eyes on him from across the room, even without looking. He made a point not to look. Instead, Dick focused on helping Jason set his dislocated shoulder.

“How does that feel?” Dick asked. He pressed his fingers against the bone, just to double check for any breaks.

“I’m fine,” Jason insisted. He hopped off the medical gurney and pulled away from Dick’s touch. An immediate wince came out of Jason when his feet hit the ground. His ankle was at best, swollen. At worst, sprained.

With how hard Killer Croc threw Jason into that brick wall, he was lucky to walk away with a dislocated shoulder and sprained ankle. Dick still couldn’t get the noise of Jason’s small body slamming against the hard brick and the noise he’d made when he fell to the ground.

“You should take a couple weeks off patrol at least,” Dick said, putting away the leftover bandages. “To let it heal.”

Jason made a face at Dick, his mouth screwing up like he’d eaten something sour. “I said I was fine!” He didn't look fine. He was pale and a little sweaty from the pain. “Right, B?” Going right above Dick's head, Jason turned to Bruce with an expectant look.

Dick finally let himself look at Bruce. He levelled Bruce with a deadly glare. Now though, Bruce was the one avoiding his gaze.

“We’ll talk about it later, chum.” Bruce walked over to them and ruffled Jason’s head with disgusting affection that made Dick’s lip curl.

He had nothing against Jason. But he damn well knew Bruce was doing it to get a rise out of Dick. The worst part, it was working remarkably well.

“Get to bed now,” Bruce said, patting Jason’s good shoulder.

Jason gave a nod that was a little too serious, like he was facing a war general giving an order. Given who he was talking to, Dick supposed it wasn't far off. Jason ran off to the stairs, almost managing to hide his limp. Dick watched him disappear up the steps.

He was a good kid.

Too good for this life.

“That could've gotten him killed.” Dick didn't look in Bruce’s direction, but there was no one else in the cave he could've been talking to. No one else on the planet Dick would speak to with such an icy tone.

“You would've stuck that landing at his age,” Bruce said coolly, pointedly avoiding the hostility bleeding from Dick.

Dick whipped his head around. “I had more training at his age.” So many insults sat on Dick’s tongue. He managed to swallow all of them without choking. “Take better care of Jason.” With that, Dick turned on his heel and walked toward where his motorcycle was parked in the bay of the cave.

“Where are you going?” Bruce asked. Like he had any right to know.

“Home,” Dick snapped. He wanted his bed and shitty take out from the only place in Bludhaven open this late.

“This is your home.”

Dick’s hand curled into a fist, itching to hit Bruce. He wouldn't stoop that low. “Not since you kicked me out, it isn't.”

“You still have a place here.” Bruce’s voice was as even and emotionless as it always was. He could've been talking about the weather.

Emotions were weakness to Bruce. And there was a time Dick naively believed Bruce trusted him enough to share that weakness with Dick.

What a joke that was.

“No, I don't,” Dick spoke through grit teeth. He just needed to keep walking to his bike and leave Bruce and his rotting city behind.

“Then why are you even here?”

Dick spun around fast enough to make his hair fall over his face. He really should cut it, but he liked the length. Bruce had always made him keep it short. For practicality. Now, letting it grow just past his shoulders, Dick’s hair was one of the few pieces of self expression he had.

“Because I made a promise to Jason,” Dick’s words dripped with all the anger he could muster, looking into Bruce’s cold blue eyes. “I would be there if he called. Unlike you, I keep promises.” It was a cold insult that hit below the belt.

“You think I couldn't have handled Croc?” Bruce arched an eyebrow. He was trying to back Dick into a corner and Dick knew it. Drag some kind of confession out of Dick that he'd come to see Bruce for some hopeless romantic reason.

Bruce could keep hoping. Dick was there for Jason and nothing more.

“Clearly you couldn't,” Dick pointed out. “Jason got hurt.”

For the briefest second, real emotion flashed across Bruce's eyes. It was something, at least. A small proof he really did care about Jason.

“He just wanted to see you.” Bruce regained his composure. “He looks up to you. He's been talking about training with you.”

Dick shook his head with a cold laugh. “I’m not falling for that. If he wants to train, he can come to me. Don't use him to get to me.” He gave Bruce a final warning look before turning back around.

“Stay.”

“No.” Dick didn't look back. His bike was within arm’s reach when a hand grabbed his arm.

“Dick,” Bruce was trying to sound soft. The command in his voice ruined the illusion of kindness.

“Don’t.” No matter how much Dick knew Bruce’s kindness was a ruse, he couldn't stop himself from mirroring it. The anger left his tone and was replaced by something softer. “It’s late and I have a shift tomorrow.”

“Call in,” Bruce said. Easy for him to say with his billionaire pockets.

Dick shook his head. He tried to pull his arm free. “This isn't happening again. It's especially not happening now.” Jason’s face flashed across Dick’s mind. In Dick’s Robin suit.

That betrayal was still a raw wound.

“Dick, I…” Bruce trailed off. “I'm sorry for how I- for how things happened.” Just as he almost took accountability, he skirted past it. A vague, half-assed apology that wasn't going to fix anything now.

“You should've said that and a hell of a lot more over a year ago,” Dick just shook his head. He tugged his arm harder. Bruce’s grip was a vice.

“Please stay.” Despite the words, it sounded like an order, not a request. Bruce’s brow hardened.

“Bruce,” Dick said, setting his jaw. “Let go.”

Bruce raised a hand and for a second, Dick almost flinched, expecting to be hit. Instead, Bruce's fingers hovered in the air before cupping Dick’s face. He was still wearing his suit, but Dick could feel the gentle body heat through the glove. He gasped.

A thumb stroked Dick’s cheek. And for a part of him, it was hard not to give in to. There was comfort in the familiarity. How easily Bruce slotted back into a role he used to perfectly fill in Dick’s life.

Dick didn't need Bruce in that role, though. And he definitely didn't want him there.

“Just the night,” Bruce offered, still stroking with his thumb. “I’ll order from the Chinese place you like.”

“I said no.” Dick took a half a step back.

The gentle, loving hand holding Dick’s face shifted to a brutally possessive grip without warning. Bruce held Dick by his jaw, fingers digging in enough to make Dick hiss.

“If I have to force, you I will.” It was dangerous, how matter-of-factly Bruce said it. No violence or threatening nature to the statement. Just a plain coldness.

Dick flinched. His full body recoiled.

“Are you out of your mind?” Dick hissed.

Bruce has been rough with Dick, before. But only when Dick asked for it.

Never like this.

The only thing Bruce had ever forced Dick to do was leave. At the time, it had been the worst thing Bruce ever did to Dick.

This was worse, now.

“You can't force me to do anything,” Dick said when Bruce didn't answer. He just started at Dick with those empty eyes. “I’m not under your thumb anymore.”

“I want to know you're safe,” Bruce spoke so calmly, like he wasn't trying to force Dick to stay against his will. Like he was practically doing Dick a favor. “Someone needs to look out for you and make sure you're taking care of yourself.”

“I have people,” Dick said, and it wasn't a lie. He had the Titans, his friends and coworkers in Bludhaven. “I don't need you. I never did, Bruce. You never understood that.” Dick’s heart was beating too fast in his chest. Bruce had to be bluffing. Trying to fake Dick out or something.

The grip on his jaw was going to bruise if Bruce kept it up.

“I need you, though,” Bruce’s voice was low and quiet. “That's what I was wrong about when I kicked you out. I thought…” he didn't finish the sentence. He just shook his head once. “I didn't know how much I needed you. And I need you now, Dick.”

Dick leaned in close to Bruce’s face. “I don't care what you need.” He pulled back and twisted his head away to wrench it from Bruce’s grip. A single well aimed strike to Bruce’s inner wrist forced his hand to open, letting go of Dick’s arm.

For a second, Dick was free.

It was a short second.

Dick didn't have time to step back. He didn't have time to think before Bruce lunged.

It was a brutal and effective pin. One that Dick had always struggled to get out of during training. Bruce grabbed Dick’s wrist and twisted him around, forcing him to his knees. Bruce’s own knee pinned Dick down, pressed between his shoulder blades while Dick’s arm was held at a painful angle.

He had one arm free. But it was difficult to grab Bruce from where he was standing. The shock of being pinned in the first place slowed his reaction.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Dick gasped. He reached back to grab an escrima stick. If Bruce wanted a fight, Dick would give him one.

His hand was stopped before he could reach the weapon. Bruce just grabbed that wrist too and hauled Dick back up to his feet like he weighed nothing. He pinned Dick against his own body, Dick’s arm painfully trapped between the two of them.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” Bruce said into Dick’s ear. His breath was warm on Dick’s skin in a sickly way. “Stay with me for the night.”

Instead of answering with words, Dick lifted his foot and kicked Bruce as hard as he could in the shin. Bruce stumbled and Dick dropped into a crouch, ready to flip Bruce off of him.

Before he could, something sharp pinched against his neck and Dick gasped.

The psychotic bastard.

His body slumped, weightless in Bruce’s arms that shifted to cradle Dick. Gently, like a lover.

Then, Dick slipped away.

Once he was drugged, it was easy to pull compliance out of Dick.

Bruce just had to carry him up the stairs and into Bruce’s bedroom. He carefully stripped both of their suits, laying them out for Alfred to wash in the morning.

Dick wasn't quite unconscious.

But he was groaning and sluggish, unable to hold his eyes open or form real words. When Bruce touched him, his body yielded and gave in so sweetly.

The way he was supposed to give in to Bruce.

Dick wouldn't remember any of it when it woke up. But his body would.

His body, warm and beautiful under Bruce’s hands. There were new scars Bruce didn't know about. He made sure to show attention to every one with gentle kisses and colorful hickeys.

But he felt the same when Bruce was buried inside of his right warmth.

Even in a drugged state, Dick reacted beautifully. Soft moans and twitches as Bruce fucked him. Slow and gentle. It was so easy to manipulate Dick’s body into the right positions. He was just as flexible as he’d always been.

Bruce liked the long hair, he decided, when he buried his fingers into it to pull Dick into an embrace while Dick whimpered.

Beautiful. Perfect.

With a hand curled around Dick’s cock, they both came as Bruce groaned Dick’s name into his sweet skin.

Bruce licked Dick’s cum off his sweaty skin. Glassy eyes watched him, struggling to say something. It almost sounded like Bruce’s name.

After finishing, Bruce cleaned both of them up and climbed into bed, arranging Dick in his arms the way they used to cuddle in bed. He closed his eyes.

Dick was home now. Where he belonged. Bruce was stupid for ever sending him away. But he was home. That was what mattered.

They would figure out the rest later.

Dick came back to awareness in a warm bed with a sore body. The sheets and pillows were familiar. They smelled familiar. His body ached in familiar places too.

Before Dick even opened his eyes, he knew where he was.

He sat up. His body was still slow and stiff. Whatever Bruce had drugged him with was a hell of a thing.

Bruce drugged him. And fucked him.

Too many feelings flickered through Dick at once for him to parse out. Anger. Confusion. Shock.

Betrayal.

Dick tuned them out. He needed to take stock. Stay focused. At least until he was out of Bruce’s home.

The sunlight filtering through the windows marked the time as late morning. Bruce’s side of the bed was empty, but Dick could hear the shower running from the ensuite bathroom.

His suit was nowhere to be found. Which left Dick stuck in Bruce’s bed, naked and vulnerable.

He tried to keep his heartrate steady. The sheets got bunched up in Dick’s first.

The moment Bruce came out of the shower Dick was going to break his goddamn-

“Bruce!” The bedroom door flew open and Jason skidded into the room. “Bruce, Alfred wants to know where he should put-” Jason froze like a deer in headlights when he saw Dick. For a moment he just stared, wide eyed and open mouthed.

Dick look down at himself and swore. He snatched the blanket that was pooled around his waist, pulling it up tight to his chest. It was too late. They both knew Jason had already seen all the bite marks scattered across Dick’s skin.

“I-” Jason stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry, I didn't know-”

Like some kind of divine timing, the bathroom door opened. Bruce stepped out in nothing but loose boxers, drying his hair. He saw Dick, then Jason. His expression changed for both of them, settling on a coy smile.

“We’ve talked about knocking, Jason,” Bruce said calmly.

Jason’s face was so red it looked like it was about to catch on fire. “Sorry.”

“Head down to the kitchen for breakfast,” Bruce just gave him a fond look. “Dick and I will join you in a few minutes.”

“You’re staying for breakfast?” Jason’s eyes lit up looking at Dick.

Dick couldn't openly scowl at Bruce with Jason’s eyes on him. But he knew what Bruce was doing. And he had no choice, backed into a corner like this.

“Yeah.” Dick forced a smile. “Just for a little while.”

Jason whooped with excitement and ran out of the room as quickly as he’d came into it.

Dick whipped his head around and leveled Bruce with a deadly look.

“After breakfast,” Bruce said, before Dick can speak. “We’ll discuss this then.”

“You had no goddamn right-”

Bruce cut him off with a chaste kiss. Dick choked against Bruce’s mouth. All of his protests forced away. Dick’s heart was pounding. Too many emotions at once.

He swallowed his pride and kissed Bruce back.

[disposal-blueeee]

doodlesssss

scriabin belongs to zarla-s

edgar belongs to jhonen vasquez

[blujayonthewing]

SUPREMELY frustrating that we found something actually really cool and intriguing and plot relevant in tonight's session but I'm still so constantly preoccupied with whether the DM is going to 100% kill us with sheer poor game design that I barely have enough brainspace left over to even enjoy it

[skrunksthatwunk]

why the fuck did i write about birds this fucking sucks. i just found out birds only sleep for a few minutes at a time, hundreds of times a day. do you know what this is going to do to my structure? the logistics of their road trip? this is already like three days late and i've been fighting for my life to get A Plot Like Any Plot That Makes Sense out and now the birds fucking sleep for 5 minutes at a time.

[aromanticasterisms]

women 👍

[fantasticalleigh]

i can't hold it back anymore bc i'm so hyped for bridgerton season 3 so i'm posting the start of my polin fic today :D i know it's not what most of y'all are here for but i've had tons of fun writing it and i love them so up it goes!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

ideal scenario is that i like thinking about this like, essential short story adventure where winston and tuk hook up w/a couple [that bachelorette party] members, and as a foursome/quartet because they have these parallel stories of two pairs of friends who are like "sure i'd have sex with you if things aligned for that" and now are living that short story about expanding a dynamic & becoming closer friends for the end of it (of course billions only wrote winston as standing next to tuk next episode, instead of rian as he's often written to be standing with incl in a previous finale, to shove him out of the path of getting material and let taylor have confusing nonresolution w/rian based on this proximity and coincidence instead. but who can't say that that, And winston next not even trying to sit with tmc in the last finale appearance which at this point is probably for the best and instead again hanging out with tuk and then ben, isn't about having been closer for whatever all happened there in obtaining casual sex together)

and they can have perpendicular stories of also just having some nice chats and enjoying other interactions together such that maybe it's just fun for this one night of crossing paths, maybe anyone stays in touch at all, who even knows, if winston or tuk are dating anyone it's probably only going to come up again in how they were last dumped for being too much effort for how unepic they are, so godspeed to offscreen unmentioned dating. but just friendly acquaintanceship, or again this one-time spontaneously crossed paths night's acquaintanceship, is also a lot of fun. and why not imagine that winston "he's not allowed to not feel self-loathing or, by doing basic things like talking or initiating Or oppositng anything, Not operating as though he's too low in a social hierarchy here to be allowed thusly" type of material where his spontaneity, vivacity to bon vivantocity, self-assurance that is apparently arrogance/aggression to every who thinks he ought to be self-effacing instead, etc, is actually just a social success in other less wretched non-work situations, and his personality is taken as a contribution to the proceedings even before anyone takes up his proffered contribution of himself as a potential sexual partner. and lending confidence to tuk as like one person who won't, at any given time, go into hostile mode with him or even like take up the position of issuing this criticism, which is an inherently elevated (over tuk) one when it's a unilateral thing. such that tuk's personality can be a potential contribution as well. and winston and tuk's Friendship Developing Moments can be happening then, too, b/c Maybe they've hung out outside work on their own aleady, but also maybe they've never really been interacting with a larger group outside work, such that that group is less likely to include some people, or entirely people, who will suddenly go sicko mode on either or both of them. and then meanwhile, who knows anything abt this bachelorette party, could be already a cohesive friend group who all see each other all the time, or people who see each other more infrequently meeting up on this trip, or a mix; could be fun and chill or something so scheduled/demanding it's kind of like a work trip, or fluctuate....and of course zero info abt the individuals such that imagining anything abt them is entire OC territory, and i'm bad at that, or at coming up with stories, so not exactly a lot of details here from me but godspeed if two of them unlock another tier of friendship here b/c like parallel to winston and tuk, they're like hmm okay so we're mutually down re: potentially having a foursome here, and spending some time away from the larger group

(or of course the scenario that tuk and winston can also have that moment but just as putting "and/or: a threesome?" as an option, and that tips the scales for someone who might've otherwise felt more indecisive like "hmmmm casual convenient hookup, or spending more time out & about like this / whatever other activity...." but then is like oho Well, if it's a threesome, i'll seize that opportunity, sure....such that then maybe afterwards [winston and tuk hanging out together] happens sooner, if the third member feels more third wheel about things lol, since now they'd be the only two who already know each other. like ooh who knows, round n+1 in the aftermath just one on one (and/or i mean, maybe another thing the third party's still around for, re: further casual sex opportunities that don't just fall into your lap every day), and/or talk, watch tron together, go back out on the town even. where the conclusion of this truly is the essence of "it Is easy to imagine that winston and tuk are real Genuine Friends for the implicit further offscreen time spent together outside work / interactions between them here. and fun" and with that flair of "and give that a juxtaposed parallel in it being the same for a couple bachelorette attendees, why not, good for them"

[liangdraws]

Láadan, I get why she thought it'd be easy - picking the easiest consonants and vowels to say for the base form - but she fully expected the speakers to just do that without thinking about it. Admirable goal, creating a language you can't gaslight someone in - but that onus is on the speaker. (I'd say the billion ablauts of every verb saying how happy you are about it, that was more intimidating to its users than a particle would have been.)

This is why conlangers shouldn't study Navajo. It is by far an outlier in terms of how much complexity is in the grammar alone, and studying it will make it sound like the native speakers use all this grammar. Which they don't, when it's implicit, which the textbook can't tell you (since nominalized verbs usually need more structural support than unambiguous nouns, it varies highly).

The biggest conlang I had inspired by Navajo, Hlūf, I had to make a billion features optional, because of the story:

"Apisawekumumehaeskelelewihē" is how the textbook will tell you to write "Alright (concessive), let's suppose she causes you to be hurt over and over again." This is how you'll speak if you're giving a speech in parliament.

"Api, asa kumumehaᴉhwē aoe 'kelel?" is how a native speaker would assemble the sentence using a local system of mutations, and thinking through the sentence as it's being said.

"Appi assa wıᴉ kūhru *gestures of repeated punching* moha, meha meha owë?" is how my protagonists will say it.

That's supposed to be a native English speaker in a foreign land, making a clumsy pidgin out of the dictionary terms - isolating lemmas, using extra pronouns, and second-language-errors like mixing up "kumu" with "kūhru," meaning "to make" like crafting an object, not like causing an emotion.

So there was a justified artlangy excuse to make the language "complicated" - the story requires non-linguist readers to tell the fluent from the clumsy speakers at a glance. Over the course of the story, the reader should hopefully remember a couple words, and the isolating pidgin will make it so eventually they can recognize a suspicious keyword. Even spoken aloud, this wouldn't work. But you can pick up the pattern when reading comic speech balloons "fluent speakers use long words and choppy speakers use short ones." They may not know what verb conjunct slots or oligosynthesis are, and neither did I when I was a kid, that's okay!

Making a language "complicated" can have many reasons!

Valyrian is impressively complicated and difficult to learn, is it so complicated on purpose or did it surprise you with how complicated it turned out?

When it comes to complexity and language, any complexity you add to the morphology is complexity you take away from the syntax, and vice-versa. For example, when you learn all the noun cases of Finnish, it buys you having to remember fewer constructions with adpositions—or fewer verb augmentations, if the language went that way.

Syntactically, Valyrian is usually (MODIFIER) NOMINATIVE-NOUN (MODIFIER) OTHER-CASE-NOUN* (ADVERB) VERB. It's quite simple. There's not a lot you have to remember, and things can move around a little bit, if it feels right. You don't have to remember a ton of auxiliaries with different applications and slightly different usages. For the most part the heavy hitters (the nouns and verbs themselves) take care of things rather nicely. This is what complexity within the words themselves buys you: simplicity elsewhere.

The reason you get this is because all languages are doing the same thing: describing human experience. And humans are the same language to language. The other small tidbit is that when creating a naturalistic language—and it doesn't matter what method you use—you are, unconsciously or not, aiming for the lowest common denominator in terms of grammatical complexity. You don't have to do that, but generally if you're trying to create a language for humans with no other goals, you do. With a language like Ithkuil, John was intentionally pushing away from what is standard in human languages, and so there are needless levels of complexity that push beyond the boundaries of ordinary human language.

Now, when I say "needless", this is what I mean.

In Turkish, if you want to say "The girl is reading a book", you say:

Kız kitap okuyor.

Turkish is a language with noun cases, but you only see the nominative here. Why? Because the girl is reading A book. When the object is indefinite in Turksih you don't need to use the accusative case—in fact, you shouldn't. If you wanted to say "The girl is reading the book", that's when the accusative case pops up:

Kız kitabı okuyor.

Okay, with this in mind, you've introduced—just in the nouns—four possibilities:

Nominative + indefinite

Nominative + definite

Accusative + indefinite

Accusative + definite

In a maximally complex language, all of this would be marked. In Turkish, only one of these is marked. (Well, maybe two, if you were to say Bir kız for nominative + indefinite. Turkish has an indefinite article that pops up sometimes.) Certainly there are languages where all of these have some sort of marking, but then those very same languages will have other situations where maximal marking is possible but not present.

Human languages all have this in common. There are areas in the language where more categories could be marked but are not. It doesn't matter what the language is. This is because humans have limits for how much junk they'll tolerate in the language they're using. It isn't long before something that could be inferred from context is inferred from context. It collapses every so often (i.e. too little is marked and so marking pops up), but the unconscious goal is for the language to have a balance between morphological and syntactic complexity and also explicitness and implicitness.

A language doesn't have to do this, though, and so conlangs can be more or less explicit/implicit. Can they work? Certainly, but they may be more than humans will comfortably tolerate, and so humans may not want to use them.

Take Láadan, for example. Had Láadan been created later it might have had a better shot at being used, but this was 1982 before conlangers had started getting together. Láadan primary flaw is that it's trying to be a deep philosophical experiment while also trying to be a language a lot of people speak. That was never going to work. Suzette Haden Elgin lamented that maybe women didn't want a language of their own to use, and so the experiment was doomed from the start. A simpler explanation is she saw an ocean and built a train to cross it.

In Láadan, every sentence begins with one of six speech act particles (copied from Wikipedia):

Bíi: Indicates a declarative sentence (usually optional)

Báa: ndicates a question

Bó: Indicates a command; very rare, except to small children

Bóo: Indicates a request; this is the usual imperative/"command" form

Bé: Indicates a promise

Bée: Indicates a warning

And then in addition to that, every sentence ends with one of the following (also copied from Wikipedia):

wa: Known to speaker because perceived by speaker, externally or internally

wi: Known to speaker because self-evident

we: Perceived by speaker in a dream

wáa: Assumed true by speaker because speaker trusts source

waá: Assumed false by speaker because speaker distrusts source; if evil intent by the source is also assumed, the form is waálh

wo: Imagined or invented by speaker, hypothetical

wóo: Used to indicate that the speaker states a total lack of knowledge as to the validity of the matter

This is too much! Evidential systems in language exist, but they are so much smaller than this, and usually the markers pull double duty—and there's often a null marker.

Again, though, it's about the goals! This is fine for a philosophical language. And if it was simply a philosophical language, then how many people "speak" it is irrelevant. For example, John Quijada doesn't lament that after twenty years there isn't a community of Ithkuil speakers—indeed, he's baffled whenever he hears of someone who wants to try to "speak" Ithkuil. It's not designed for that, and so the metric isn't a fair one. Based on the structure of Láadan, I'd argue the same: the number of speakers/users isn't a fair metric, and shouldn't have been a design goal. Because while a language like High Valyrian looks more complex, with its declension classes and conjugations, Láadan is more complex in that it exceeds the expectations of explicitness a human user expects from a language.

Long answer to the question, but no, High Valyrian ended up as complex as I intended, and I don't think it's more complex than one would expect from either a natural or naturalistic language.

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.