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rubystatic · 9 months

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Asking For Trouble

I wasn't sure what to write for my first post here. I haven't written for Hazbin Hotel before, but I figured what better introduction to the fandom than a literal introduction between Alastor and the reader? I've had this scene rattling around in my head for a few weeks, so I hope you enjoy it.

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Contents: demonic summoning, Alastor being an eldritch horror, hints of gore, blood, minor self-injury (not sh)

The red paint glistens like fresh blood in the light of the candles. A dozen or more of them, scattered around your living room, resting atop the coffee table, the TV stand, melted onto the top of the bookcase and the windowsill. Thick, black candles you bought from the Halloween clearance sale at the local big box store. You don’t think colour matters, but it felt right for the occasion. If you’re going to do this, you might as well do it right.

A clear space dominates the centre of the room—all the furniture has been pushed aside, crowding up against the walls to make room. You’ve rolled up the living room rug and propped it against the stairs.

When you first moved into your basement apartment, you were dismayed to discover that it had a poured concrete floor, and that the landlord hadn’t bothered to put in carpet or laminate or even cheap lino. However, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the rent price was such a steal, you didn’t dare question him on it in case he decided he wanted a less whiny tenant.

You have reason to be grateful for it now, though. A red pentagram painted on a wooden floor or carpet would be a quick way to make sure you never got back your security deposit. A bit of turpentine and it’ll be like this never happened.

Assuming that you’re still alive. If this even works.

The thing that started it all, a simple black notebook—some Moleskine rip-off—sits open at the edge of your circle, along with a whole mess of measuring implements. A simple protractor wasn’t good enough for something like this. You’d had to buy some stuff off the internet, and now your Amazon recommendations looked like a geometry professor’s wet dream.

And there I was, thinking 10th grade math would never get me anywhere in the real world.

You pick up the notebook, glancing between the scrawled diagrams and measurements and your own summoning circle. It looks right. It had better be, since you spent all afternoon hunched over, painting it with dollar store acrylic paints. Oh, and your life depends on it. Can’t forget that much.

The notebook is a journal of sorts. You found it behind the bookcase when you first moved in, wedged there and forgotten. The pages are covered in the feverish scrawl of a previous resident. At first you felt a little weird about reading it, but curiosity overcame any moral quandary you had in the end.

The journal outlines the three month period it took for a young writer to seemingly descend into madness as his work was rejected, over and over. As his girlfriend left him, his father died, and his life fell to pieces. He became more and more desperate, his writing growing erratic. His writing research had already led him down some occult paths, but it seemed he’d decided to pursue them even further.

Which was you’ve come to be kneeling on your living room floor, trying to summon a demon.

Taking a deep breath, you flip to the last page, where the invocation is written, the pen almost tearing through the paper in some places. It’s the last entry.

You reach out, and use your fingertips to push a plate of venison over the boundary line, into the centre of the pentagram. The meat is a dark, pinkish red, practically pulsing with blood and vitality, as the journal instructs.

Getting it necessitated a trip outside city limits to a questionable butcher in the countryside who specialised in game meat. The journal is very clear—it has to be fresh. Supermarket meat won’t cut it.

Everything is in place. There’s nothing left to do but begin.

You take a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you lift the journal, holding it open. You have a strange feeling of duality, that you’re both at once powerful and ridiculous. Someone tearing open the veil between worlds to seek higher (or lower) power, and someone playing pretend.

You force yourself to ignore the latter, pushing it aside and holding onto the image that what you’re doing is going to work. Faith is important, even if it isn’t invested wisely.

“Let—”

Oh, shit, you’ve forgotten a step.

Dropping the journal in your haste, you reach for the small pen knife lying at the edge of the circle. Gritting your teeth, you tighten your grip on the wooden handle, and make a small cut on the side of your thumb. Holding your fist out over the circle, you let a few beads of blood, looking almost black in the candle light, splatter the venison.

You open a bandaid and slap it over the cut, pleased you haven’t completely sliced your palm open like they do in movies. Don’t they know how long that takes to heal?

Anyway, back to the demon summoning.

“Let this offering of flesh and blood open the veil between the earthly realm and the depths of Hell,” you read aloud, your voice becoming stronger with every word.

No wonder that writer guy couldn’t get his shit published if this is how he wrote everything. Despite the stilted prose, you keep reciting it aloud, just glad it’s not in Latin, or worse, rhyming.

“I summon you, o’ Deal Maker, Keeper of Bargains, Purchaser of Souls—”

Seriously? Writer of Bullshit, more like.

“I summon you, Alastor!”

You hold your breath as the last echoes of your voice fade from the walls, waiting for something to happen. The candles continue to flicker gently, and you can hear the muted hubbub of voices from your neighbour’s TV upstairs. Your knees are starting to hurt from sitting on the floor.

Sighing, you let the journal drop to the floor. It hasn’t worked. Of course.

Why did you think this was going to work? Summoning a demon of all things—

The candles ripple as if stirred by a breath, then their flames spike upwards, rigid. The light throws shadows across the walls, but the shadows don’t move in the right way. They sway back and forth, almost in a trance, as if the room is tilting side to side.

The candle flames stretch up and up, thinning out into streamers. The golden glow dims, before blooming a bright, venal red. Your ears fill with the sound of static as the painted lines of the summoning circle begin to glow crimson. Smoke boils up from the centre into a plume of pulsing fog, backlit by the red light and twitching shadows.

Something very old, buried and half-forgotten in your DNA screams at you to run, but you’re frozen to the spot, gaping as a figure takes form within the smoke. A tall, thin silhouette, long limbs distorted. Ice seeps into your gut.

The smoke clears, leaving an apparition, a demon, in your living room. It is not the monster you expected. No red skin, no black pits for eyes, no fire and brimstone… But whatever he is, he’s definitely not human.

Stretching from floor to ceiling, he must be seven feet tall or more, with a thin, attenuated form and an inhumanly narrow waist. The demon is a vision in red, from his hair to his suit to his eyes, red on red, his pupils black slits in a sea of glowing crimson.

It’s his smile that truly terrifies you, though.

His teeth gleaming, the colour of aged ivory. Two rows of sharp, dagger-like points, ready to sink into flesh, designed to rend and tear. Whatever this creature is, death sustains him.

Red hair, tipped in black, frames his face in a short bob, and tufts up at the top in what you think might be ears. Two small, black antlers jut from the top of his head.

The static in your ears crescendos like a wave crashing over your head, and the demon’s smile widens. He hums to himself, his voice a crackle, and looks around your meagre apartment. Finally, his gaze comes to rest back on you, the most interesting thing here.

“My, my,” he says, a strange, Transatlantic twang to his voice, “it’s been a while since someone summoned me. You really know how to set the mood, don’t you? Summoning circle, candles, and what’s this?”

He leans down to pick up the plate of venison. Your blood has seeped into the meat by now, indistinguishable from the dead deer’s blood. The demon uses his gloved hand to pick up a morsel of the meat, his red eyes widening in pleasure, before popping it into his mouth like an hors d'oeuvre.

“Delicious,” he praises. “Not a bit of fat on it, either. How did you know venison is my favourite?”

Before you can answer, his gaze lights upon the abandoned journal. He lets out a chuckle that’s half radio static.

“Oh, that old thing. I should have known!” He slaps his knee in an over-the-top display of amusement. “You’re all so eager to throw yourselves into the Abyss! Humans, lemmings, what’s the difference?!”

The demon pretended to wipe a tear of mirth from his eye, before finally paying attention to you again. His grin cranked up a notch, practically splitting his face in half, and his hooded red eyes gleamed at you.

“I haven’t introduced myself. How remiss of me. The name’s Alastor. A pleasure to meet you, my dear.”

The static in his voice fuzzed out, leaving behind a raspy baritone.

“Now, what can I do for you, darling?”

#rubystatic #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #d's list of sins

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littlerit · 2 years

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The mothers & their character

Musing on what we get to see of the Umbrella mothers, I have some thoughts. I wonder if the mothers were shown as deliberate reflections of their children?

Luther’s Mother. A confident business lady, giving or about to give a presentation. She shows leadership, confidence (that dress folks, YES), poise. Professional strength and intelligence. All things that Luther has aspired for.

Diego’s Mum. Shown in the home, preparing a meal. A home maker, caring, love language presumably acts of service. A reflection on how Diego always seems to have wanted to be a real family, with real connnections and care. His closeness with Mom/Grace. Also, knife skills.

Allison’s Mother - a teacher. And if my memory serves me, teaching geography/geology with a diagram of the earth’s layers on the chalkboard. A nurturer who works with youths/children, and who has the power to inspire and change lives with her words.

Klaus’ Mother - Amish. The simple, self-sufficient and religious life doesn’t seem a good fit at first glance, but when you look a little deeper I think there’s some parallels. Religion/Spirituality/Mediumship/literal crossing to the other side are all linked beneath the surface. And the self sufficient life style - Klaus has never really gone without. Whatever he has thought he needed or wanted (materialistically) he has been able to get, one way or another. He’s adaptable, a charmer, he always lands on his feet.

Five’s mother, the butcher. A professional who can get the job done, isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, but can work with precision. Ability to separate emotions from the job at hand. Also, excellent blade skills and good understanding of anatomy. A good parallel to Five’s ruthless fighting style and the professional pride he took in his assassination work.

Ben’s schoolgirl mom. Young, really starting to explore life, with years and years ahead of her. Too young to be thrust into motherhood, such a momentous change, regardless of the instantaneous nature of it. A reflection or mirror to her son, who was beginning to explore life outside of the academy and died too young.

Viktor’s mother. The aspiring olympic swimmer who wanted to rise above ordinary and compete with the extraordinary - something Viktor longed for for most of his life and formed a huge part of the S1 arc, and really still influences Viktor even in S3.

#the umbrella academy #tua #hargreeves siblings #tua meta #umbrella academy

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purpleyoonn · 2 years

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My Witch

Summary: It was Halloween night and you were in the old church fulfilling a dare your friends tasked you with. Little did you know you were being watched, and he had been waiting a long time to finally make you his. Now, you were his, and he wasn’t letting you go.

Pairing: Demon Taehyung x Human (witch) Reader

Genre: soulmate au, demon au, bts au, angst, smut

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: bad pranks, demon whispering, spells, rituals gone wrong, prank gone wrong, reader is really a witch, Taehyung is a demonic guardian, dom Taehyung, sub mc, bondage, orgasm denial, praise kink, breeding kink, pretty much just pure smut, pure filth,

Masterlist // Navigation

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Six candles stood on the borders of the circle you resided in. The white chalk on the floor marked in an intricate shape as copied from the book in your hands. There was no way this was going to work, and you would be out of this damned house in a matter of minutes, ready to pummel your friends for making you do this as your dare instead of something else, like licking the bottom of your friend’s foot for example.

You had been at your friend, Yeri’s house with a large group of friends, playing games before you all went out for Halloween. You were in the middle of playing truth or dare when you stupidly picked dare. You were told to go into the old church and recreate the ritual that you had been shown in your class. The class was about magic and the occult, and was a huge hit for the youth in your religious small town.

Lighting the last candle, you finished the circle of salt around your body as you placed the book on the floor, looking at everything to see if you got the ritual right. When you had everything confirmed, you stood tall, book in your hand again as you moved to read the small inscription underneath one of the diagrams.

You barely managed to get one of the Latin words out of your mouth before the lights started to flicker.

“Okay guys! This isn’t funny.” You yelled out, the flickering lights stopping making you believe your friends left the room, your back to the door as you faced the window.

“Okay…let’s do this so I can get back home instead of going out. I’ll need a large glass of wine when I’m done.” You say aloud, needing the eerie silence in the room to be gone. You hated the silence, how your thoughts seemed to try and fill the void.

You start the chant again, this time closing your eyes, not wanting to know if your friends try and prank you again. They knew you were scared, knew you didn’t want to do this. You were the only one in class who paid attention to your professor, knew exactly what these words meant, and it terrified you.

A creak sounded from your right causing you to open your eyes, head moving to the direction only to see nothing there. Taking a deep breath to ease your nerves, you finished the incantation quicker, not knowing you most likely butchered some of the words. You just wanted this to be over with.

You waited a couple seconds, sighing in relief when nothing happened, not even a slight flicker of the light coming from the candle’s flames. Choosing to keep the candles lit for light, you begin to clean up the chalk on the ground and the salt, along with the small gems your friend Joy gave you for the ritual.

Another creak sounded, this time form behind you as you jumped to your feet, spinning on your heel to come face to face with someone you didn’t know.

His dark eyes were locked on you, as if drinking in the sight of you. He had black hair that curled into his neck, longer in the back as he has it pulled into a half ponytail at the top of his head. He leaned against the door frame, your only way out of the dark room. He appeared relaxed as he looked at you, like nothing was amiss even as the candles blew out and the only light now came from the moonlight leaking in through the window.

“Who are you?” You asked the tall man, not moving from your spot. Your voice wavered, not liking the way this went in your head.

“Oh baby. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” He had a deep voice that made tingles shoot down your spine, straight to your core. He smirked at you, the corner of his lip turning upward as if he knew exactly what reaction his voice gave you.

“What are you talking about?” Your voice was shaky now, the entire vibe and atmosphere of the room becoming cold. Something was not right and your mind was coming up with way too many awful scenarios, the main one being that the stupid ritual actually worked.

“Now, darling. You are the one who spoke the incantation…my little witch.” He started walking forward, his pace leisurely as he kept his eyes on you.

“Each potential witch is born with a demonic guardian, courtesy of the Devil herself. I just so happen to also be your mate, who you’ve just summoned into the physical plane.” You were shaking your head, not believing his words as he kept moving closer. Your body was frozen where you stood, your feet physically unable to move.

“I’ve been watching you since you were little, making sure nothing happened to my darling mate. I, however, was getting tired of waiting. So, I may have whispered into your “friends” ears tonight to get you’re here.” He stopped in front of you, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other coming up to cup your jaw.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way? My perfect little bride.” You were dressed as a bride tonight, a joke done by your friends seeing as you’ve never been in a relationship. But now, you think it was this demon whispering again.

“This isn’t funny. So whichever one of my friends that paid you to do this, I’ll give you more money to leave me alone.” You whisper, voice weak from fear as he stares down at you with lust in his eyes.

He was silent, his eyes switching back and forth between your own as he looked at you. Taehyung didn’t know what to say to make you understand what you did, how you brought him here and started the mate bond with him.

“When you do a spell at this scale, make sure you speak slowly and pronounce everything correctly, or you might just bring your soulmate to the physical plane and begin the mate bond with them.” Or Taehyung can just bite the bullet and say it bluntly.

He knew he had you when your eyes began fluttering in thought, as if you were reading words sitting in the air. You always did this when you were thinking, like you were reading an invisible paragraph that no one else could see. He watched your expression turn from thinking to panicked as you tried to pull away from him.

“Sorry, my love, can’t have you trying to run away from me now, can I?” His grip on your jaw tightened, tilting your head to the side as he brought his nose to your neck and took a deep breath in. When he pulled back, he had a deep grin on his lips, eyes flashing with amusement.

“All of that fear can’t hide the lust you feel for me. It scares you, doesn’t it?” You squeeze your thighs together, your mind becoming hazy with lust as he continues to stare down at you. You begin to feel hot and clammy, the need building within you the longer he has his hands on you.

“Don’t fight it. Don’t fight me. Let the feeling take you over.” He whispered in your ear, biting into your lobe as he did. He didn’t need you trying to fight the bond, not when you already started it. Not when you put it into action. Not when your spell accepted him as your mate.

Not when you were finally his.

He could see the tears forming in your eyes as you tried to fight the pull to him. He could smell your arousal dripping from your folds and his had him fighting himself. He wanted to take his first time with you slowly, making sure you felt everything he gave to you, only his name leaving your lips as he made you come, again and again. However, the longer you tried to fight him, the more he wanted to make you beg.

“Let your body succumb to the pleasure only I can make you feel.” He didn’t like that you were shaking your head. That you were still trying to fight the pull you felt for him. He blinked, one second you were in the old church, the next you were lying on a bed.

You were in your bra and panties, jewelry you had never seen before now littered your body. Numerous bracelets covered both of your wrists; you even had a couple of anklets adorning your ankles.

You sat up, moving to bring your legs to your chest as you looked around. A weight on the bed had you catching eyes with the demon who you accidently summoned. His eyes were completely black, the candles lit on the side tables flickering in his gaze.

You moved back until you were back against the headboard, no longer in the middle of the bed. The demon tutted, shaking his finger at you. He moved forward, grabbing ahold of your ankles and slowly dragging you back until you were once again laying down in the middle of the bed. Your hands now bound to the headboard as your ankles remained free.

“You know, if you didn’t try and fight the pull you feel to me, I wouldn’t have to do this. You are mine. You always have been.” He now hovered over you, his finger caressing your jaw as you tried to move your head away. Your thighs were clenched together, the only physical indication of your growing arousal and need for the man on top of you.

Your body craved his touch, had you wanted to lean into him, but the small part that was quickly dying out inside of you was telling you that this was all wrong. That you shouldn’t be doing this.

Taehyung noticed the fight quickly leaving your body, the arousal becoming greater as it fell and created a damp spot on your panties. He decided you needed a little nudge.

“You smell so sweet. My very own nectar.” His fingers trailed down your side, caressing your hip before moving over your panties.

He could feel how damp your underwear was, your slick now covering his fingers just from touching your underwear. His eyes rolled back into his head as he brough his slick coated fingers to his lips. You let out a gasp as he brought his hand down again, ripping your underwear off in one quick motion before running his fingers through your folds.

“That’s it darling.” His voice caressed you just like his touch. His spread your legs open, moving to rest his own in the now open space as he brought his finger to your core again, his index finger now pushing in slowly, a whimper leaving your lips at the feeling.

“Just relax babygirl, I’ll take good care of you.” His finger moved slowly against your walls, pumping a couple of times before adding his middle finger, the two rubbing against the spot that had you moaning out.

Taehyung watched you as you moaned, your eyes were closed from the pleasure, your body finally giving in to the bond. He could see you relax into the bed, the only tension in your body coming from your abdomen and core.

When he noticed you getting close, he pulled back, causing you to whine, your eyes opening to see the smirk on his lips. He brought his fingers to his lips again, this time putting them in his mouth so he could suck off the slick coating them. You could see his shoulders tense and his chest move up and down as he tried to catch his breath. The taste of you on his tongue had all reason thrown out the window.

He was back on top of you again, his clothing missing as the weight of him presses you against the mattress. You could feel him against your hip, could feel his balls as the rest against your clit. His head was directly over your own, as if searching again for any sign of defiance. When he didn’t get it, he moved back down your body, kissing every couple seconds.

He left open-mouthed kisses down the expanse of your neck and collarbone, marks left in his wake as he reaches your breasts. A small testing kiss is placed right next to your nipple, causing a whine to leave your lips and laughter to leave his.

“Oh baby? Is this where you want me to kiss?” He wastes no time before taking your nipple in his mouth, sucking on you harshly. The groan that leaves your lips has him wanting more, the hand not on your other breasts moves down to your core again, fingers rubbing at your clit.

You were music at his touch, so vocal for him, Taehyung thought, absolutely loving the way each touch from him had you singing.

He had you almost reaching your high another two times, wanting to drag this out as long as he could. He waited way to long for you, and he wasn’t going to let this last less than he felt you both deserved. Each whine he brought forward from your lips, the closer he became to losing all control.

“Shhh baby. I’ll make it all better.” He cooed in your ear as he brought his tip to your core, rubbing it in your slick, coating his cock with the juices he brought out of you.

You couldn’t help but to remember he was a demon, his masochism showing as he edged you three separate times. You were about to push him away and handle things yourself when he finally pushed in, your body almost pulling him in, not wanting to be edged again. It was, again, as if he read your thoughts. (Taehyung knew you so well he could practically read your mind.)

Your breath caught in your throat at the feeling of him touching your cervix, his hips pressed against yours as he moves your legs to wrap around his shoulders, the position making him reach new places and making more tingles shoot down your spine.

He didn’t hesitate to find a rhythm, knowing you wouldn’t feel any pain from, him only pleasure as your mate. His pace was quick and deep, hitting your cervix and rubbing against your spot with every thrust. All inhibitions and control leaving Taehyung’s body as your walls clench against him. He could feel the pleasure coursing through your body.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well. Such a good girl.” He pushes out through his clenched teeth, eyes locked on your own as he changes position, this time he moved your legs to wrap around his hips. He seemed to reach even deeper than before, matching his thrusts so he was going harder and deeper.

“My good girl. Gonna fill you nice and full.” Your mouth was open as the knot in your stomach was getting tighter and tighter. You had no clue if he even realized what he was saying, but you couldn’t help but to clench around him at his words.

“Oh, you like that idea? Want me to fill you with my seed? Want me to breed you like the good little mate I know you are?” He could feel himself getting close, his body betraying his mind as he had you underneath him for the first time. Despite his desire to drag this out, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

He brought his lips to your neck, sucking at your pulse point as he rubbed his index and middle fingers against your clit, wanting to make you cum as he felt his high coming closer.

“Such a good girl.” He breathed out as you came, your walls clenching tightly around his cock sending him into his own release. He didn’t stop for a couple more thrusts, wanting to push as much of his cum into you as possible before he stopped at the hilt, pressing his hips harder into yours for good measure.

He remained in you for a while, wanting to make sure you remained filled, with him and his cum. He wanted everyone to know you were his, and the scent of his cum in you would be the best way to do that.

He looked down at you again, your eyes hazy from the pleasure.

“Such a good girl.”

#bts #bts au #bts v #bts taehyung #bts taehyung x reader #demon taehyung #demon au #human reader #bts one shot #taehyung one shot #angst #smut #bts smut #taehyung smut #kim taehyung #kim taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #purpleyoonn

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jellogram · 2 months

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Conservative queers will never make sense to me. Even if you believed every other aspect of republican ideals, I can't see how you could vote for a party that actively and very openly wants to eradicate you. The "leopards won't eat MY face!" conviction is so strong that you have heard the leopards declare their intention to eat your face and you still don't believe them. The leopards have drawn one of those little butcher shop diagrams of your body. The leopards are soaking you in marinade. They might even be currently chewing on your ears, depending on what flavor of queer you are. And you are still thinking "Wow, the people who hate these leopards are so childish and stupid!"

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monarchtonone · 20 days

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@restart-the-cycle @keeper-of-magic

Aha! This time, a broadcast was sent out to me from Turning the Page! Drops, Lucky, and herself.

Seems Lucky brought our little sister with him this time, hehe.

PRIVATE

Turning the Pages, Monarch to None

Recording of events in Nine Drops of Iron's Structure.

-Begin Transcript-

TP: Again, thanks for taking me along, Lucky! I've been really bored, but this region is so . . . cool!

TP: And I had no idea Steps' region was so . . . holey. And void-y. And full of popcorn plants.

LE: Just trying to be a good brother, Pages. Now, come on. We're going in, and just a heads up. Drops is a little . . . off.

TP: I'm sure it's fine!

NDI: Lucky. Who is this?

LE: Turning the Pages, our little sister.

TP: Hiiiiii! I'm here because Lucky wanted to show me your region, and OHHHH MY GOSH YOU HAVE A MOUTH?!

NDI: . . . Yes. I'm surprised that Lucky and you don't. But he explained it was a choice made by only my ancients, not everyone's.

LE: Yeah. Anyway, so, Monarch just wanted me to see what was happening here again.

NDI: A . . . lot. First of all, the Rainmaker suddenly became transparent. It was rather interesting, for I still don't dare cut it even the slightest, but I could still see how it worked. My notes on it are finished, except for one.

LE: And that is?

NDI: Then, this other slugcat found it's way here and was . . . rather irritating, to say the least. Yes, I could dissect it fine, but it kept reforming outside of my structure and giving me a headache trying to document it's biology.

LE: Serves you right for the fake water call!

TP: Oooooh, that was this guy? Gosh, I was so worried but I couldn't do anything! Monarch's better at handling that kind of stuff.

LE: Don't feel too bad, Pages. He dissects creatures for a living.

TP: Ew.

NDI: Hardly an 'ew', ungrateful brat! You should be lucky you get to hear about my genius at all! Lucky, take her out.

LE: Wait, no, she's staying-

NDI: Take. Her. OUT!

-End Transcript-

Drops proceeded to throw both of us out of his chamber. Lucky went back in.

I cried.

-End Broadcast-

. . . How dare he treat Pages that way.

But, aside from this, Lucky also brought me a concerning note sheet. Once I understand it better, I'll send the image out to everyone-But it appears to be a diagram of a white lizard, but . . . butchered. The same way one would portion a cattle for slaughter.

#flymonarch #rain world #iterator oc

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haggishlyhagging · 9 months

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The Circular Flow diagram depicted labour appearing—hey presto!—fresh and ready for work each day at the office or factory door. So who cooked, cleaned up, and cleared away to make that possible? When Adam Smith, extolling the power of the market, noted that it is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, he forgot to mention the benevolence of his mother, Margaret Douglas, who had raised her boy alone from birth. Smith never married, so had no wife to rely upon (nor children of his own to raise). At the age of 43, as he began to write his opus, The Wealth of Nations, he moved back in with his cherished old mum, from whom he could expect his dinner every day. But her role in it all never got a mention in his economic theory, and it subsequently remained invisible for centuries.

As a result, mainstream economic theory is obsessed with the productivity of waged labour while skipping right over the unpaid work that makes it all possible, as feminist economists have made clear for decades. That work is known by many names: unpaid caring work, the reproductive economy, the love economy, the second economy. However, as economist Neva Goodwin has pointed out, far from being secondary, it is actually the ‘core economy,’ and it comes first every day, sustaining the essentials of family and social life with the universal human resources of time, knowledge, skill, care, empathy, teaching and reciprocity. And if you have never really thought of it before, then it's time you met your inner housewife (because we all have one). She lives in the daily dealings of making breakfast, washing the dishes, tidying the house, shopping for groceries, teaching the children to walk and to share, washing clothes, caring for elderly parents, emptying the rubbish bins, collecting kids from school, helping the neighbours, making the dinner, sweeping the floor and lending an ear. She carries out all those tasks—some with open arms, others through gritted teeth—that underpin personal and family well-being and sustain social life.

We all have a hand in this core economy, but some people (like Adam Smiths mum) spend far more time in it than others. Time may be a universal human resource, but it varies hugely in terms of how we each get to experience and use it, how far we control it, and how it is valued. In sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia, time spent in the core economy is particularly visible because, when the state fails to deliver and the market is out of reach, householders have to make provision for many more of their needs directly. Millions of women and girls spend hours walking miles each day, carrying their body weight in water, food or firewood on their heads, often with a baby strapped to their back—and all for no pay. But this gendered division of paid and unpaid work is prevalent in every society, albeit sometimes less visibly so. And since work in the core economy is unpaid, it is routinely undervalued and exploited, generating lifelong inequalities in social standing, job opportunities, income and power between women and men.

By largely ignoring the core economy, mainstream economics has also overlooked just how much the paid economy depends upon it. Without all that cooking, washing, nursing and sweeping, there would be no workers—today or in the future—who were healthy, well-fed and ready for work each morning. As the futurist Alvin Toffler liked to ask at smart gatherings of business executives, ‘How productive would your workforce be if it hadn't been toilet trained?’ The scale of the core economy's contribution is not to be dismissed lightly, either. In a 2002 study of Basle, a wealthy Swiss city, the estimated value of unpaid care being provided in the city's households exceeded the total cost of salaries paid in all of Basle's hospitals, day care centers and schools, from the directors to the janitors. Likewise, a 2014 survey of 15,000 mothers in the United States calculated that, if women were paid the going hourly rate for each of their roles—switching between housekeeper and daycare teacher to van driver and cleaner—then stay-at-home mums would earn around $120,000 each year. Even mothers who do head out to work each day would earn an extra $70,000 on top of the actual wages, given all the unpaid care they also provide at home.

Why does it matter that this core economy should be visible in economics? Because the household provision of care is essential for human well-being, and producivity in the paid economy depends directly upon it. It matters because when—in the name of austerty and public sector savings—governments cut budgets for children's daycare centres, community services, parental leave and youth clubs, the need for care-giving doesn't disappear: it just gets pushed back into the home. The pressure, particularly on women's time, can force them out of work and increase social stress and vulnerability. That undermines both well-being and women's empowerment, with multiple knock-on effects for society and the economy alike. In short, including the household economy in the new diagram of the macroeconomy is the first step in recognising its centrality, and in reducing and redistributing women's unpaid work.

-Kate Raworth, Doughnut Economics: Seven Ways to Think Like a 21st Century Economist

#kate raworth #economic theory #unpaid labor

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i-eat-deodorant · 7 months

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Weird question for you 👉👈 do you have any drawings of the lamb or narinder like, naked? NOT in a horny way I SWEAR, I love your style and I just wanna see how you draw their legs lmao, I can't figure it out myself and other artists I can find are like, too human.

(nakey animals ahead)

Okay, so to preface this I'm a hobbyist artist who commits anatomical atrocities for shits & giggles, and this is by no means a professional/accurate way to draw animals, humans, or any combination of the two. This started as me struggling to explain how I draw instead of just sticking to the most brutally honest explanation of "I just wing it", but having to draw out different parts of anatomy and how proportional they are to each other was hugely helpful to help me re-evaluate how I draw animals. So thank you.

I'll be mostly using Lamb and Narinder for reference, because the brainrot is strong and they're what I draw the most.

A lot of my style comes from the fact that I'm primarily an animal artist, not a human one. In fact, COTL's the first fandom that I've drawn anthro characters in, and it was a trial trying to adapt what I know to upright animals.

Best way to get a better grip on anatomy is to sketch from references. Nothing that can really replace practice. It's helpful to look at skeleton and muscle diagrams and get a good idea of where body parts are in relation to each other. Then, search up actual references and try to overlay the shapes and bones onto them. When I'm not sure if something of mine is proportioned correctly, I just measure something with my fingers and compare.

Some specific things to note: generally, the hind legs of quadrupeds have a larger metatarsal area (the large flat portion of your foot) compared to humans--that's why people say cats tip-toe. Humans have theirs relatively short; how long you make that area largely determines how Creature the design looks. I know some people who draw purely human legs, some who draw human legs then add the extra foot length on top, all of that's fine. Personally, I will shorten the leg length above the knee to compensate. In quadrupeds, the knee will draw up very close to the torso area, as you can see in the jackal doodle.

Another note: when standing, it's important give the impression that there's a center of balance. When standing straight, a straight line drawn from the hip to the foot of a leg should be relatively perpendicular to the ground.

(Of course this all goes out the window the moment anything other than standing straight is involved but w/e.)

A lot of the fundamentals carry over between my quadruped and anthro art: the general shapes, the proportions, etc. One thing I noticed while sketching Lamb is that sheep have a femur that's almost entirely against their torso, and their legs are mostly just the tarsal parts (sorry if I'm butchering the anatomy).

For the arms/forelimbs, I mainly just use human anatomy with a repurposed number of fingers. It's easier, plus I can't exactly have a sheep with sheep limbs carry an axe around. I mean it's doable, just kinda awkward.

After getting the basics down, I move to more complex poses. One thing I struggle massively with is anything involving knees--kneels were something that eluded me for months. There are things that humans do that look very awkward when you factor in other animals' anatomies. I'm not super good with action poses so I can't really say how I've overcome that limitation, because I haven't :'D.

When I'm doing more simplistic poses, I just result resort to drawing a slightly bent line and calling it a day. You don't see much outside clothing anyways.

Last thing I found interesting: because of the weight distribution, the positioning of the arms in relation to the torso is different in bipeds and quadrupeds. Drawing anatomy with arms that kinda come forward and legs spread apart give designs a more animalistic vibe to me.

#long post #my asks #my shit #idk if this helps or not #it's just how i draw things not how to draw them correctly #i wrote this at 3am so it may make no sense whatsoever oops #but yeah i don't really??? do consistency??? so i constantly violate my own rules #reminder that my narinder is a jackal/cat hybrid #cw suggestive #not rlly but just in case

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morrak · 4 months

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Untitled Wednesday Library Series, Part 140

Yes, another academic journal article. I have a brand to maintain, so maintain it I shall.

Xenobiotica is a very fun publication, but it usually sits on the far side of a Taylor & Francis paywall. It’s a real shame there’s no way around such a thing. Shucks, darn, and thrice drat.

Krumdieck C. L. (2013). Development of a live tissue microtome: reflections of an amateur machinist. Xenobiotica, 43(1), 2–7. https://doi.org/10.3109/00498254.2012.724727

The How

When I run searching or citation management workshops, one of my first scripted searches is always "machinist". There are good reasons for this — it's an uncommon word in biomedical databases with minimal controlled vocabulary mapping, so results are stable; it's easy to remember which articles are good for showing off important workflows; I've got a perfect record of typing it quickly in front of an audience — but mostly I just like the things it retrieves. I've probably looked at listings for this one a hundred times, but hadn't bothered to read it until a few weeks ago.

The Text

It is what it sounds like, more or less. Sometimes you (or maybe not you, but some people) really need to slice unmounted tissue samples, which stops being the job of a butcher somewhere in the 4,000–5,000 micron range. Live tissue respirometry, the main use case addressed by this paper, calls for 100–500 and high parallelism besides.

If I wanted to be picky — I do — I’d say the abstract is internally sound but weak in context. This is about 50% prototyping narrative by dry weight, though you’d never know it from the wrapper. I like development stories as much as the next person who spent several formative years partying with analytical biochemists; I don’t mind the surprise, but that doesn’t mean there should be one.

The Object

Unremarkable; unpretty; par for the course. Two columns, two photos, two (three if you're feeling generous) diagrams, tiny little bibliography. A little crispy, but readable in a pinch. I'm willing to give it a B for a relatively small journal in light of the vintage.

The Why, Though?

A microtome is a type of horse. To me. Is creating one this specialized and reliant on specialized laboratory conditions ethical? Probably not, but you cannot stop me from appreciating its frail and sickly charm.

I don't know if this prototype resulted in anything commercial; I haven't checked. Don't care, really. The paper has its charm, a little, but its quality and content are (for me) other than the point. It's ready to hand, inoffensive, and as stable as anything I work with can be.

#images #untitled wednesday library series

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esmeislewd · 1 month

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I....kinda want someone to hog tie me, put an apple in my mouth, draw one of those butchers diagrams on me and berate me for how much of a pig I'm becoming and tell me how delicious I'll taste...

#esmes lood writings #female feedee #make me fatter

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kmlaney · 1 month

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WIP questionnaire

tagged by @coffeewritesfiction and I am so sorry to take this long on a reply. Thanks for the tag!

Tagging @fallenscintilla (if you want! No pressure!) and @waywardwizzard and anyone who wants to!

1. What is the first part of your WIP that you created?

The very first line was: “D’ya think I care how it tastes?” I posted an edited version here. There's a snip of the original here.

For the record, it started as a character background for a TTRPG. In fact, it wasn’t even going to be the character I was going to play. Harrowed (undead/revenant) gunfighter? *eyeroll* Too cliché. I even made a homebrew archetype to play: a “spiritualist” in the late 1800’s sense. But that first line kept bugging me so I figured, okay. Fine. I’ll write this one scene and then work on my spiritualist.

Yeah. No. I never played the spiritualist.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

I did all the fan stuff for Phil and Skyfallen, like playlists, faceclaims, all of that. I never did that before. I selected music for the theoretical TV show: main theme, a rotating list of outro/credits roll music, pieces for certain kinds of scenes. So if Skyfallen were a TV series, this would be the theme:

youtube

3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

That’s like asking which of my pets was my favorite. I love them all. I guess I loved Phil enough to make them the viewpoint character. They’re a more-mature version of the kind of character I wrote when I was a kid, now with serious problems I can explore as an adult. I like Phil’s father, whom I was determined to fridge in the beginning because fridging is usually a female character. Ha Ha! Then I went and gave him a character arc that could only end in his death so he’s not fridged after all.

I like Travelling Sam for being a conniving, money-grubbing jerk, but he’s fun to write. I like Eva as Carnival Mom; Maury for being a flamboyant, fun-to-be-around person hiding a serious drinking problem that everyone knows about. I like Doc Butcher for his name, for actually being trained as a vet but caring about everyone, and trying to do his best when he’s in over his head because he can’t do nothing.

I like Maker Lewis for his change of heart, though he was already on the fence and just needed a shove. And I like Miss Warren for being a nosy reporter whom Phil doesn’t want to like but ends up liking anyway. She also lets me play at muckraking reporter. Choosing words to specifically slant a piece is a load of fun.

4. What other pieces of media do you think your fan base would share?

Skyfallen has its roots in Westerns, so people who like cinematic westerns are a potential fanbase. I include horror, steampunk, and gothic elements, so if your venn diagram of interests includes those things then it might be for you.

Things I like that influenced or feel like this story: Silverado, The Magnificent Seven, RIPD 2 Rise of the Damned (movies. I hate to admit that last one but it was fun). Deadlands (TTRPG game. I created Phil for this setting). The Dark Tower novels--primarily Wizard and Glass but any of the parts dealing with Roland’s world.

There is zero romance. Phil’s ace, there is no main love interest, and anyone who gets together does so very off-screen.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

When writing the draft, the individual scenes flew out of my brain. I could hardly write them fast enough. In deep editing, though, it’s the big-picture stuff I find challenging. Which themes do I want to emphasize and which are less important? Do I really need all this buildup or should I start later? I need to show certain things so the later ones make sense, but that makes it even longer. It’s already very long; shouldn’t I be cutting things down? Argh. It's frustrating.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

There are animals. Most are utilitarian: Horses, dogs, cats, chickens, cows. There are monsters also (for certain values of “monster”) all along the continuum from “non-sapient animal” through to “self-aware human intelligence.”

The way they figure into the story is more interesting. In life, Phil liked animals in general and had a special fondness for horses and mules. After dying and coming back reanimated, animals can’t stand to be around them. Phil doesn’t figure it out right away, and it hurts when they do.

7. How do your characters get around? (Ex. Trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

For the area the characters are in for the bulk of the story, most people walk, ride horses, or ride in wagons, carts, or coaches pulled by horses or teams of horses. There are a couple of trains but they are rare. In other areas, trains are common, as are ferries and lake boats. Airships exist; they are novelties and considered simultaneously luxurious and dangerous. In larger cities, along with the horse-drawn vehicles, people have bicycles, rickshaws, pedal-powered rickshaws, and palanquins. Automatons in a variety of configurations may be subbed in for horses or people in any of those conveyances.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I’ve identified some specific foreshadowing that needs to happen. So I need to add that in. There are a few names that aren’t consistent; they’re flagged so I can fix them. I need to put in a few encounters so later ones make sense. It’s not exactly foreshadowing so much as worldbuilding. So editing stuff.

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe) of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

I have a hard time identifying tropes in my work, probably because I’m in the trees, so to speak, and can’t see the forest. Or groves, to push the metaphor. Having said that, here’s an attempt:

Portal/isekai

Found family

Unlikely group of heroes

Humans can be evil; monsters can be sympathetic

Religion, Magic, and cults

Monsters dwelling among humans

Enemies to not-friends (don’t push your luck)

Things get worse

Everyone has secrets

Lost memories, memory tampering

Weird West

Steampunk and Gothic Horror

Gunslinger/trick shot

Noble Demon/antihero

Good is not nice

I did come up with one of those taglines that you might see on the bottom of the cover of a book:

“Every Skyfallen has something they want to forget. And everyone in the Mistlands is Skyfallen.”

10. What are your hopes for your WIP?

Originally I was hoping for traditional publishing. I might still try to go that way. I’m also looking into self-pub, and websites that host serial stories. I think this story fits better into a serial format than a traditional book format. I need to make it more coherent (hence editing phase)

#kmlaney writes #kmlaney characters #kmlaney answers #All About my WIP #bad luck phil #mistlands #skyfallen #writing #coffeewritesfiction #fallenscintilla #Youtube

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