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#Scruple story
thescruple · 1 year
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If so, please let me know. I’d love to know some people are still interested in me.  PLEASE READ 39TheWolf: Hi there, I’m Scruple’s creator, and I’m sorry there’s been basically no Scruple for a very long time. To say what happened, I was loving working on Scruple, and my partner and I were coming up with a lot of ideas to make this epic story, with multiple stories and characters intertwined, and I’m sad that I never got to really do that story. Scruple is and always will be one of my favorite characters I’ve ever come up with. Well, I was so saddened when my original laptop died, and I couldn’t work on him anymore. I did get work, but life kept pulling me away from being able to replace my computer and start working on him again. Then my mom suddenly died and I was in a dark place. I went through a series of unfortunate events and it honestly left me emotionally drained for a long time. I didn’t even draw for a good while, as I was at my lowest point. Being homeless, dealing with family betrayal, realizing how much of my life was not ok, but because it was normal to me, and I was a kind and sensitive person, I never realized it.  I eventually did get a new computer, and started drawing again. But at that point it looked like no one was interested in Scruple anymore, and then Tumblr imploded. So, I figured his project was dead.  Now, people are coming back to tumblr, and I wonder, does anyone still want to see Scruple’s story? Nattar and I have gone and refined the story, and, I think people would really love it, if given the chance.  However, I really cannot do this without interest nor support. I’ve been struggling for years to not just do things I love, but surviving in general. I currently don’t have a job, and prospects look thin that I’ll get one in the future, as not a single place I’ve applied to has given me a chance at an interview. On top of that, I tried to go back to school to get my degree, but I just couldn’t pay for it without some scholarships, and despite applying for so many, I struck out. And I would have to put myself in tens of thousands of dollars in debt to pursue the degree I want, and I’m not in a position to do that with assurance I’ll be able to pay the debt off.  So I’ve been going from commission to commission, and on rare occasions a donation. I’ve barely kept it all together, and I’m doing what I can to keep going. But it’s been hard. So please, let me know if you want to see Scruple again, and I’ll post what needs to be done to see this story actually come to life.  I need your support to do this. Like, comment, reblog, share so that this could be a thing.  And please support me and Nattar as the creators. Follow my main blog, my Ko-fi, other socials (if you want), and maybe we can really make this happen.  Thank you.  https://ko-fi.com/I3I7DVYN
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bluebluebluewoods · 5 months
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oldbookist · 1 year
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I was working on a history paper today and found a book from 1826 that seemed promising (though dull) for my topic, on an English Catholic family’s experience moving to France.
And it ended up not really being suitable for my purposes, as it goes. But part of the book is actually devoted to Kenelm, the author’s oldest son…and man, his dad loved him.
Kenelm seems to have had a fairly typical upbringing for a young English gentleman, although he is a bit slow to read. At twelve he’s sent to board at Stoneyhurst College—often the big step towards independence in a boy’s life, as he’ll most likely only see his parents sporadically from now on, and then leave for university.
When he’s sixteen, however, his father moves the whole family to France, so Kenelm gets pulled out of school to be with them again. Shortly after the move, his dad notices that he seems depressed. Kenelm confides in him that he’s been suffering from “scruples” for the last eighteen months—most likely what we’d now call an anxiety disorder.
And his dad is pissed—at the school, because apparently Kenelm had been seeking help there and received none, despite obviously struggling with mental health issues. So his dad takes it seriously. He sets him up to be counseled by a priest—there were no therapists back then—and doesn’t send him away to be boarded again, instead teaching him at home himself.
And his mental health does improve. His dad describes him as well-liked, gentle, pious, kind and eager to please others; at twenty he’s thinking about a career in diplomacy or going into the military—which his dad thinks he is not particularly suited for, considering his favorite pastimes are drawing and reading. He’s excited about his family’s upcoming move to Italy, and he’s been busy learning Italian and teaching it to his siblings.
Henry Kenelm Beste dies of typhus at twenty years, four months, and twenty-five days. That’s how his dad records it. That’s why his dad is telling this story. It’s not an extraordinary story—Kenelm’s story struck me because he sounds so…ordinary, like so many kids today. And he was so, so loved. His dad tried hard to help him compassionately with his mental health at a time where our current knowledge and support systems didn’t exist. You can feel how badly he wanted his son to be remembered and loved, to impress how dearly beloved he was to the people who knew him in life.
I hope he’d be glad to know someone is still thinking of Kenelm over 200 years later.
Anyway, that’s why I’m crying today.
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violet-eng · 5 months
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Neuvillette and his arranged marriage with fem!reader - NSFW
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Summary: so... Furina is such a gossipy and she's kinda boring so she wants Neuvillette to marry to some random girl that can be a challenge for him... would he like this traveler?
TW: smut. Has a plot. Kinda angst? p i v. Breeding kink, praising. Unprotected sex with this daddy judge. I think that's all... MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE JUST KEEP SCROLLING.
🎨: @zlidbhypy/@zljdbhypy
💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦
The judge had lived long enough to be carried away by appearances, his image in society was expected of a man with his profession, with his knowledge and his stature. However, in the eyes of Lady Furina, as much a lover of spectacle and scandal as possible, the great judge needed a slightly more modern image to present to the citizens of Fontaine-and perhaps to bring a little gossip as well.
The idea had consumed her so much that at the moment she met you she could think of nothing else but arranging an engagement with Monsieur Neuvillette. You were the living image of what she was looking for: a young woman of society, a foreigner with a wide knowledge of the vast continent and above all, ambitious. 
There was a flash that Lady Furina highlighted in you, a furious soul difficult to tame, a challenge for the great judge. How fun it would be to see that: the distinguished gentleman try to control the disdain of his future wife, lover of saucers with spicy mixes, so friendly to those with vision Pyro... almost as contrary to him.
You met Neuvillette a day before the wedding, when Lady Furina had given him the wonderful news that he would marry you. He could not refuse, not the Archon, and she was aware of that-that made the matter more fun.
Neuvillette looked serene during the announcement, did not give the Archon the joy of a grimace of disgust... of course not, he was not like that...
On the wedding day rain fell so much as to drown the neighboring nations, tormenting those present of the ceremony. Monsieur Neuvillette was outside the compound, admiring the horizon, yearning for the freedom he possessed years before. To this had its existence been reduced? To be a puppet for the entertainment of the Archon? To tie himself for life to a woman he didn’t even know? If only he could return to his old form... spread his wings and get out of that place...
"The rain is wonderful," you exclaimed beside him, tearing from his chest an impression he managed to hide. "I hope the tears of the Hydro dragon are of happiness for the wedding and not of misery".
"They’re just legends, stories for children," he said, though an inch of him, deep down, was delighted by the idea that unlike the rest of Fontaine’s inhabitants, you didn’t dislike the rain... the one he was provoking...
"All legends have some truth in them," you whispered, giving him a sincere smile.
The ceremony had been short because of the rain, yet your happiness was overflowing. Your dress was drenched, your hair was alike... Everything was ruined, Lady Furina kept saying it, and yet you seemed to be living the best day of your life. Neuvillette could not look away from you at any moment, you had bewitched him, a single phrase had sufficed to achieve that...
The room was spacious, exquisitely decorated, illuminated to depth, the details and finishes seemed measured with hard effort... very much like the great judge. You had been unwise to ask if you had separate rooms, that had upset him for a moment... You certainly didn’t seem to have the same scruples as him.
You opened the window of the room, resting your elbows on the frame and sucking the dew that the rain brought with it. Neuvillette stood still in his place, looking at your figure, analyzing every detail of your silhouette, trying to perceive your essence, your energy... There was definitely something special about you.
"Can I come out?" you asked, were you asking permission?
"You must not ask for my consent to be free in the place" actually, he did not think it proper from you to ask permission for something… he perceived you from the first instant as a free being in tune with nature.
"It’s my way of asking you to go out with me to enjoy the rain," you said, approaching him and extending your hand. 
The thick drops of water hit the roofs, the fountain of the courtyard was about to overflow with water, the surface covered of the leaves that the wind had brought with it. You got rid of your coat and your shoes, went into the fountain and sat in the middle, above the water level, your legs dipping, you picked up the dress on your knees. The fabric was thin, almost transparent now that you were soaked and uncovered. Neuvillette scanned the surroundings, hoping no one would look at you, you were his wife... was he jealous? No, it was a simple sense of duty now that he was a married man...
"Come closer" you said from your position, pointing your finger at the place in front of you. Neuvillette, almost hypnotized by your loud attitude, dragged his feet towards your spot, sitting across from you, likewise, his legs underwater. The familiarity of the rain on the current that had formed under his feet was pleasant, almost satisfactory, so much so that it incited him to move his hands on the surface of the water, forming figures that allowed his hydro vision. You smiled at the small spectacle he displayed for you, admiring the sublime movement of his hands, the way his fingers flexed on the leaves and the drops of water ran down his hands.
You leaned toward him, taking him by surprise, joining your lips with his. He did not turn away, but, on the contrary, he dropped his hand against your neck, drawing you closer to him, tasting the nectar of your lips and your tongue.
"I want something to be clear" you dictated separating yourself from him, "we’ll have children... not because the charlatan Archon wants it for her entertainment, no... we will have children because we both want it, it was clear?".
For all the Archons... those words coming out of your mouth, pure poison, so hostile to the Archon, calling her in a way that he could never, with your face framed by your soaked locks and your lips swollen by the kiss... There was nothing he could want but a woman like you. 
The matter of your affinity for the falling flood, added to your folly of calling the archon such a derogatory name... you were an interesting, exceptional creature whose behavior went beyond his control and knowledge. You were a challenge... his challenge... and his enthusiasm grew in his chest as well as in his pants.
You had both returned to the room in sultry form, between kisses and gasps, getting rid of your clothes on the way. He cornered you on the wall of the entrance, his hand in fist resting above your head, his forehead against yours, the other hand holding your chin, joining his eyes. Neuvillette’s chest rose strongly, seeking air, bewildered by the growing ecstasy, the desire among you that was born. 
Taking you by the waist, he turned you against the wall, your face crashing against the cold marble and your palms resting at your sides. You felt his breathing on your neck, his chest against your back, his hands sliding over your curves, right to your hips, over your panties. You let out a soft moan as you felt the fabric slip under your legs and fall to your ankles.
"Monsieur..." you whispered trembling as the cold pouring through the room brushed your thighs and bare ass. 
"You don’t look as bold as you did a few minutes ago," he whispered... low, almost growling, you swore he was smiling, you sensed it in his voice.
"It’s... just... ah~" you cut the phrase in half when you felt him slip into you, separating your folds, forcing you to suck it. Your hands in fist, your hips rising, trying to avoid its passage inside you, your shoulders gathering at the sensation that flooded your center, your sex. 
"Monsieur~" you moaned, your forehead wet against the marble, your hands scratching the wall looking for something to soothe the burning between your legs, the feeling of its length between your damp walls.
You didn’t think the judge would be so vocal. When he slipped into you, he grunted, so pleasantly your legs seemed to melt. You felt the breath of his groan in your ear, your name coming from his lips.
"So soft" he whispered, resting his hands on yours, his forehead on your shoulder, "so tight..." continued advancing, rising to the bottom, "so mine"...
Neuvillette fucked you against that wall as if he was in heat-and perhaps he was-as if you were going to escape at any time from his grip, though you couldn’t. 
The moans and gasps were embarrassing, thanks to the rain they did not cross the walls, the sound of wet skin crashing during each penetration was burning, lustful. The words that came out of the judge’s mouth every time you girded your limb were a sea of incongruities, just as the phrases that your mouth dropped when he caressed your clitoris, that little lump had become his favorite toy.
The onslaught was strong, your breasts pounding against the wall every time he burst into you, rubbing against your delicate interior, which seemed made for him.
"You take me so well," he groaned, as he continued his beat against you, your breasts rising and falling down the wall. You were trapped between the wall and the monster of pleasure the judge had become.
"I will fill you with my seed, I swear..." he gasped again, his voice raspy, with flashes of hunger and lust.
"Neuvillette~" you let out a high-pitched moan, had touched your point, that felt so fucking good, the way he arched to hit that gummy dot on your cervix. He kept going, and kept going, you didn’t want him to stop. Fuck, he was so good at it, who’d say a gentleman of his countenance could be taking you like an animal in heat.
He kept hitting that delicious spot inside you, stroking your sensitive organ, one, two... three times, you suddenly felt a knot forming in your belly.
"Oh my~... don’t stop Neuvillette~..." you begged, eyes closed, lips separated by groans. The sound of his gasps flooding your eardrum... you both were close…
His onslaught lost rhythm, the intensity was almost unbearable, he came out one last time to get into you, fucking you so hard that you felt your orgasm burst and you let out a scream. He would not take long to reach his climax similarly, unloading all his seed inside you
The bed was warm, you needed it after what happened... Neuvillette lay beside you, caressing your cheek, watching the way you fell asleep. 
He looked out the window, the rain had stopped. He was completely happy... so long ago that he did not feel the fullness he had at the time... 
He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, curling your head in his chest, feeling the warmth of your gentle breathing. He closed his eyes, falling asleep beside you, yearning to tell you one day about his identity... someday…
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cerastes · 7 months
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It’s so funny to me that Dusk has a humansona.
You think she has a caard for ‘him’? Reference pages? I mean she has a backstory and characterization for him, a storyteller that frequents teahouses and tells many a tale simply because he enjoys it.
Do you think Dusk lays belly down on her bed kicking her feet excitedly about the noble winds and being unstirred by loss and unmoved by gain, rehearsing her stories to perfect their delivery?
“The Storyteller is always calm and welcoming, isn’t a hater, and even tolerates unemployed sisters with putrid taste in filmography… Indisputably, a paragon of virtue and scruples :)”
It’s just hilarious that she’s the opposite of people all around the world making thinly veiled overpowered self-inserts through which they project trauma. The actual physical goddess said “I self-insert as a regular ass dude who is pleasant”, queen.
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toskarin · 17 days
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one thing that annoys me in fantasy writing, but not a lot because I mostly just drop stories like this before they can make me go insane, is when a modern understanding of sexuality is backported into a fantasy setting so hard (in service of representation) that it comes with an implicit modern social framework that also backports modern conservatism
why* is this fantasy setting going through the motions of a protestant marriage ritual. if it's medieval and christian in every other way, why is the anxiety getting tied up around modern political talking points instead of in actual scruples
*: I know the answer and don't need it explained, but the assumptions being made are still annoying
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after-witch · 2 months
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For character interaction: “Mahito… I didn’t need any gifts. Where did you even get these?”
(I hope I did it right. I hope you feel better! <3)
note: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of murder (not reader)
--
Mahito ignores your question for now and simply grins, shaking the now-empty plastic bag with a furious force, as if there might be a tiny present left inside. You get the feeling he just likes the sound it makes as he whips it in the air.
On the floor are an odd assortment of items, unwrapped, though Mahito didn't quite seem the type to spend time meticulously wrapping anything, whether it was for a holiday, your birthday, or an unknown occasion.
There's a well-worn paperback with a bookmark sticking out of it; a pair of light-up tennis shoes with a scuff on the heel; a small collection of lipsticks, one with the cap half-off; a purse, a wallet, a used train ticket book. A handkerchief with hand-stitched letters in the corner, a brand-name scarf, a pair of sunglasses with one lens missing. Bits and bobs, really.
"Mahito?" You ask again, tentatively picking up the book. The inside has an inscription--"To dad <3"--and the bookmark is towards the middle of the story. It's some detective novel, you think, given the title and the cover.
"Hm?" Mahito ceases shaking the bag, which appears to instantly lose its luster. He drops it and bounds over to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. "Oh, doesn't that look fun? I think it's a murder mystery. I wonder if it's gory or not."
You frown.
"But... where did you get it? Or any of this stuff?"
You want him to say he got them from the trash. Or that he found each item sitting on benches, little remnants of life people sometimes leave behind when they're in a hurry.
But before he even opens his mouth, you know that he won't be telling you anything as nice as all that.
You're looking what was in the pockets, the hands, the purses of people he's tortured and killed. Awful enough, yes.
But it's not the worst part. The worst part is--you know you'll end up using most of these things, in the end.
The scruples that used to exist when it came to using a dead person's shoes, when your feet had become freezing from the cold or wrinkled from the damp or rough from the stone, had long since worn away. The horror that came from feeling the pages of a murdered woman's notebook and pen shoved into her purse before work no longer existed.
"Thank you, Mahito," you say, quickly. "And never mind. I don't need to know where they're from."
You open the dead man's book and begin to read the first page with Mahito pressed at your side.
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avelera · 4 months
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A cursory glance at the current makeup of Dreamling fics coming out this day shows a preponderance of AUs that range pretty far from the source material, human AUs or stories where otherwise Dream and Hob aren’t “Dream of the Endless, eldritch being” and “Hob Gadling, immortal medieval peasant”.
That sort of AU is not really the sort of thing I personally enjoy reading (except in rare circumstances, like by a particular author), I’m more of a “slight canon divergence at most” person. But I completely understand that a year out from the show’s release this is sort of the natural evolution of where fandom tends to go with a ship in search of fresh material to explore.
But I’m a perverse and contrary creature, especially as a fandom writer. I see a popular trope and can’t resist trying to do the opposite or turn the assumptions involved on their head somehow, especially if they begin to calcify as sort of “accepted fanon”.
So skimming over some of the latest summaries enough to get a sense of these trends really makes me want to return to the source material and then some. I’ve been fascinated by the idea of trying to pull a bit more of Dream and Hob’s rougher, more stoic energy from the comic into my fics. I want to give the sense of physicality of a Hob who knew life as a medieval soldier and bandit. I want some of the forbidding otherworldliness of a Dream who is truly the god-king of a shadow realm of nightmares, his power over mortals unquestioned save by his own scruples and certain unknowable cosmic laws. And for them to be insanely into each other because of this, not necessarily in spite of.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the softness and fluff as much as anyone and I read the heck out of it. But I think for my own part because I gravitate towards writing softness and affection between them even in spite of my intentions to write a more historically and eldritchly informed characterization, it will be an interesting challenge to mentally set the bar a little further back into their rougher more forbidding comic selves as a starting point from which to get there.
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notmorbid · 5 months
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sweetlust.
dialogue prompts from sweetlust: stories by asja bakić.
i tend to expect the worst of people.
shit. i'm even competitive about intimate feelings.
i haven't even started and i've already lost.
i don't care what i look like. i just want to survive.
do you want to eat me?
you sound like a precocious child.
you're different. better.
sex can't rehabilitate anyone.
fear is essential to survival. the body fears with reason.
i don't like crying in public.
this place brings out the worst in all of us.
a destructive idea can be more dangerous than bacteria.
am i the beauty or the beast?
what do you look like when you have no audience?
sadness can't be turned off like a computer.
i have complete confidence in you.
you never come home empty handed, even when you should.
out of sight, out of mind.
is there somewhere i could rest?
i can't explain why, but please listen.
some dreams have the quality of memory.
i called you, but you didn't pick up.
motherhood, more than anything else, personifies death.
if this is motherhood, i never want to be a mother.
what are you thinking about right now?
even in winter, life has to go on.
i've been lying my entire life.
i don't know what i'm feeling.
there's always been space for you.
'for the greater good' is such a tired phrase.
abstract ideas have concrete consequences.
you've gone silent again.
you blame your mother for everything but global warming.
i look like a villain. i know that.
i don't even know where you're from.
i could have helped you, but i didn't want to.
no one wants to get out of here more than i do.
i don't trust people who don't lie.
you have scruples. that's your biggest weakness.
i can't remember ever laughing so hard.
what's your name? can i at least know that?
i wasn't completely honest.
it's not appropriate to swear.
stay. the bed's big enough for the both of us.
no one who sees the future clearly can believe in god.
you're not stupid. you just act like it.
i want you to fully know me.
i don't want to play house.
everyone suffers. you're not the only one.
i won't tell you how to feel.
you know how much i hate that word.
there's no reason to lie anymore.
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nothingtherefornow · 3 months
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About Evil teenagers antagonists in Miraculous
I currently wonder how can some fans still want a redemption for somoene like Chloé who willingly hurt people just because that's was her definition of "fun".
Why not accept Chloé as somoene evil ? Just because she's 14 years old ? Just because Gabriel was worst than her doesn't take away the fact that Chloé is a truly bad person who has the potential to become as evil, if not worse than Gabriel while growing up.
Even in real life, adults are not the only ones who are capable of cruelty and crimes. If only adults were capable of monstrosity, I wouldn't have 14-year-olds killing each other with callache nikoffs in the drug trafficking districts of my city. we wouldn't have young people beating up little ones and pushing others to suicide and absolutely not regretting their actions. And we wouldn't have stories to raise eyebrows about kids capable of committing murder and acts of torture without necessarily having been abused in their lives.
To me, anyone who loves to make others suffer for their own sick pleasure (and their victims are people who objectively don't deserve such cruelty) has serious mental issues and can be a danger to others.
Both Chloé and Lila love to make others people suffer or don't care about hurting innocents, and they certainly don't feel any empathy for anyone, or in Chloé's case, no longer feel any empathy (she may have felt sympathy and empathy for Adrien at some point, like during the episode Felix in season 3, but that's definitly no longer the case as soon as Adrien asked her to stop being a biatch). Maybe Lila may feel a form of attachment toward her mothers, yet that doesn't stop her from manipulating them and fooling them in a way that's pretty cruel if you dig deeper in Lila's scale of truancy and imposterization.
I know that technically when a 14 year old kid behaves like Lila and Chloé we could say to ourselves that it is unfair to give them no chance and to condemn them when they are only 14-15 years old and could change for the better if they could be guided on the right path.
But Miraculouse is a show in which the superheroes with the fate of the world in their hands are 14 year old kids. And as such in this fictitious reality, other 14 year olds are perfectly likely to become real cruel and threatening villains i without any scruples, especialy if they are influenced by the wickedness of an adult supervillain.
And I believe that Gabriel's evilness only made Chloé's and Lila's wickedness worse.
He put those two girls in positions of power where they could hurt others and act according to their darkest and Manichean impulses. And Lila and Chloé would only want more taste of that power to crush others. And you know how power easilly corrupt the most greedy hearts.
On several occasions, Gabriel even approved of Lila and Chloe's horrible plans and actions. He has encouraged Lila on numerous occasions to "get rid of" Marinette, thus giving the impression that he supports Lila's jealousy, and during collusion he will have the nerve to say that Chloé's ideas, which consist literally ruining the academic future of your classmates and putting your pregnant teacher in jail for no good reason are good ideas. Having a rich adult in a position to approve of their actions in this way will only have given Lila and Chloe the feeling that their acts of cruelty and malice are justified, and thus reinforced their evil nature.
On several occasions we have seen Chloe and Lila voluntarily let themselves be akumatized, and worse than that, we have seen them plan to be akumatized (Chloe in Penalteam, and Lila in Revelation) and not for understandable reasons like that of a desperate Jalil brainwashed by lies on social media. Because Lila and Chloe have only ever been motivated by their narcicism, their ego, and their desire to get revenge on people they hate for the most pettiest, vain and selfish reasons possible.
Lila and Chloé may be kids, but they are evil teenagers, because they would gladly become supervillain if that means getting what they want. And what they want is anything but noble. For their selfish goals, Lila and Chloé were willing to endanger the city they live in and all its inhabitants. I don't even know if I can still call Lila and Chloé kids or teenagers, with how far they're willing to go and hurt people for the sake of their ambitions.
Although there's still the possibility that Lila may be an adult with a youngfull appearance or a hormonal abnormality making her look like a teenager when she could be an adult. But that would risk making her a pedophile so I don't think the show will go that far ^^ At most they could give her the same as Théo Barbot
But an antagonist adult would be needed then to balance an antagonist teenager supervillain.
Good thing we still have Tomoe Tsurugi then
It's tragic that Chloé and Lila wickedness and evilness could be due to serious mental issues or Chloé's bad upbringing, and the show may have decided that it's more important to protect others from the harm Chloé and Lila can cause rather than to prioritize "helping" them with their issues. Both Marinette and Adrien proposed another path for Chloé to chose, one that could have helped her heal from the emotional and mental wounds her mother's abandonment and neglect. Chloé instead chose Hawkmoth's/Monarch
Ladybug offered Lila her friendship, and Adrien also offered Lila to be there for her as long as she didn't hurt those he loved. Yet both Lila and Chloe voluntarily chose to continue committing bad deeds and hurting others, regardless of the fact that someone reached out to them and offered them another path to get love, acknowledgement and recognition from people. Adrien and Marinette don't have to sacrifice their mental health for people who wish them harm, so I understand very well that it wasn't and won't be their priority to help Chloé and Lila find potential redemption. And especially when Lila and Chloe seem determined to refuse to change and continue to cling to their wickedness.
It should be the adults responsabilities to deal with Chloé and Lila issues, and unfortunatelly the adults in Miraculous are pretty lousy and incompetents. It's very tragic when we don't know that one kid is a psychopath, and if another has always gotten away with his narcissistic behavior disorder and nothing had ever been done to help them deal with that issue, that only leaves the opportunity for the seed of evil in these kids to germinate and flourish, and then reach the level of nastiness that is more often found in adults.
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thescruple · 1 year
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HI
39TheWolf here, sorry I haven’t made a post in a bit. Things have been hectic. I got a new kitten that literally just appeared on my porch and we took her in. Then my partner and I got sick. We’re still recovering from a nasty head cold.  Thank you so much for the support and kind words. Really.  Nattar and I have been thinking about how we want to tackle this, because it’s not going to be just Scruple. We have several characters we are going to be exploring that all tie in to one plot with Scruple at the heart of it all. To keep track of all the story threads, we are probably going to keep all the stories together on a separate blog or website that can be navigated and repost all the stories onto here. So that way new readers can navigate through easier.  Now for some news, this will technically be a reboot of Scruple. Also a format change. We’re going to do an illustrated story vs an interactive ask blog. There will be asks between the story releases, but this format will be easier for Nattar and me to be able to accomplish.  On another note, I’ve been working on character designs/redesigns of the main players in this story. Currently Scruple is partially done. Yay for that.  Hopefully with Nat and I on the mend, we’ll be able to work on stuff more.  Also please keep showing support! It really helps! https://www.tumblr.com/ask39thewolf
https://twitter.com/39Thewolf
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“Satan Overlooking Paradise” (1870) by Gustave Doré :: [Guillaume Gris]
* * * *
“Satan, on the contrary, is thin, ascetic and a fanatical devotee of logic. He reads Machiavelli, Ignatius of Loyola, Marx and Hegel; he is cold and unmerciful to mankind, out of a kind of mathematical mercifulness. He is damned always to do that which is most repugnant to him: to become a slaughterer, in order to abolish slaughtering, to sacrifice lambs so that no more lambs may be slaughtered, to whip people with knouts so that they may learn not to let themselves be whipped, to strip himself of every scruple in the name of a higher scrupulousness, and to challenge the hatred of mankind because of his love for it--an abstract and geometric love.” ― Arthur Koestler, Darkness at Noon
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“It is wonderful how much time good people spend fighting the devil. If they would only expend the same amount of energy loving their fellow men, the devil would die in his own tracks of ennui.” ― Helen Keller, The Story of My Life
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bethanydelleman · 8 months
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So many people judge Elinor Dashwood for accepting Willoughby's "apology" (it's really just a sob story where he throws every female in his life under the bus), but she doesn't really forgive him AND she is in a very delicate emotional state and dead tired when it happens. For a full defense, I've taken the quotes that show what Elinor is thinking during Chapter 44-46 of Sense & Sensibility. (This is really long)
He arrives right after Elinor is finally assured that Marianne is going to live, after some very trying moments where Mrs. Jennings was predicting that her sister would die. She is waiting for her mother to arrive, and then he walks in. Her emotional state is intense:
Never in her life had Elinor found it so difficult to be calm, as at that moment. The knowledge of what her mother must be feeling as the carriage stopt at the door—of her doubt—her dread—perhaps her despair!—and of what she had to tell!—with such knowledge it was impossible to be calm.
She is not happy to see him, she only barely agrees to hear him out, she is mostly pissed, "Miss Dashwood, at this point, turning her eyes on him with the most angry contempt" And this is Elinor! Who usually controls her expression of feelings.
Elinor remains pretty annoyed with him throughout:
“I have,” returned Elinor, colouring likewise, and hardening her heart anew against any compassion for him, “I have heard it all. And how you will explain away any part of your guilt in that dreadful business, I confess is beyond my comprehension.”
But as Willoughby goes on, Elinor wavers:
Elinor’s heart, which had undergone many changes in the course of this extraordinary conversation, was now softened again
“You are very wrong, Mr. Willoughby, very blamable,” said Elinor, while her voice, in spite of herself, betrayed her compassionate emotion
She does agree that his explanation at least makes him a slightly better person, but her language is hedged, a lot:
“Yes, you have certainly removed something—a little. You have proved yourself, on the whole, less faulty than I had believed you. You have proved your heart less wicked, much less wicked. But I hardly know—the misery that you have inflicted���I hardly know what could have made it worse.”
And even when she is admitting this, she's going over in her head what could have made him such a terrible person:
Elinor made no answer. Her thoughts were silently fixed on the irreparable injury which too early an independence and its consequent habits of idleness, dissipation, and luxury, had made in the mind, the character, the happiness, of a man who, to every advantage of person and talents, united a disposition naturally open and honest, and a feeling, affectionate temper. The world had made him extravagant and vain—Extravagance and vanity had made him cold-hearted and selfish. Vanity, while seeking its own guilty triumph at the expense of another, had involved him in a real attachment, which extravagance, or at least its offspring, necessity, had required to be sacrificed. Each faulty propensity in leading him to evil, had led him likewise to punishment. The attachment, from which against honour, against feeling, against every better interest he had outwardly torn himself, now, when no longer allowable, governed every thought; and the connection, for the sake of which he had, with little scruple, left her sister to misery, was likely to prove a source of unhappiness to himself of a far more incurable nature.
Now we have the ending:
He held out his hand. She could not refuse to give him hers;—he pressed it with affection. “And you do think something better of me than you did?” said he, letting it fall, and leaning against the mantel-piece as if forgetting he was to go. Elinor assured him that she did;—that she forgave, pitied, wished him well—was even interested in his happiness—and added some gentle counsel as to the behaviour most likely to promote it.
So she ends the conversation/whine fest with a lecture on how Willoughby could improve himself! This may be a great example of Christian forgiveness, but she certainly doesn't think he is a good person.
Now Elinor is alone and she reflects on how his charm overcomes her knowledge of his faults:
Willoughby, he, whom only half an hour ago she had abhorred as the most worthless of men, Willoughby, in spite of all his faults, excited a degree of commiseration for the sufferings produced by them, which made her think of him as now separated for ever from her family, with a tenderness, a regret, rather in proportion, as she soon acknowledged within herself—to his wishes than to his merits. She felt that his influence over her mind was heightened by circumstances which ought not in reason to have weight; by that person of uncommon attraction, that open, affectionate, and lively manner which it was no merit to possess; and by that still ardent love for Marianne, which it was not even innocent to indulge. But she felt that it was so, long, long before she could feel his influence less.
and slightly later:
But the rest, which one night entirely sleepless, and many hours of the most wearing anxiety seemed to make requisite, was kept off by irritation of spirits. Willoughby, “poor Willoughby,” as she now allowed herself to call him, was constantly in her thoughts; she would not but have heard his vindication for the world, and now blamed, now acquitted herself for having judged him so harshly before. But her promise of relating it to her sister was invariably painful. She dreaded the performance of it, dreaded what its effect on Marianne might be; doubted whether after such an explanation she could ever be happy with another; and for a moment wished Willoughby a widower. Then, remembering Colonel Brandon, reproved herself, felt that to his sufferings and his constancy far more than to his rival’s, the reward of her sister was due, and wished any thing rather than Mrs. Willoughby’s death.
I think wishing Willoughby a widower is the most damning line here, but the sentence prior make it clear that it is for Marianne's sake, not Willoughby's, that Elinor wishes he was free to marry. And she repents almost immediately. Also, and importantly, Elinor is still not sleeping! So she is still running on anxiety and no sleep when she wishes Mrs. Willoughby dead.
Later, when she does tell Marianne about the encounter a few weeks later, we can see her opinion of Willoughby has definitely soured:
“The whole of his behaviour,” replied Elinor, “from the beginning to the end of the affair, has been grounded on selfishness. It was selfishness which first made him sport with your affections; which afterwards, when his own were engaged, made him delay the confession of it, and which finally carried him from Barton. His own enjoyment, or his own ease, was, in every particular, his ruling principle.”
To summarize: Elinor was tired and emotional when Willoughby arrived and under the influence of his charm, she did begin to think better of him. She did forgive him, but while still dwelling on his faults. When she has time for rest and reflection, and without him present, she thinks more clearly and knows that everything Willoughby did was selfish.
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undeadcourier · 8 months
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@lynettethemadscientist There are some raider groups, like James Wire's former Minutemen, who are written in a way that's nuanced and humanizing, and there are some raider groups, like the Jackals in New Vegas or a lot of the random raiders in the East Coast games that don't get that treatment and are portrayed as flat, static villains. I prefer the former, and I would like to see more of that.
That said, I disagree that writing being realistic means that it must be good. It can be unrealistic and good; it can be realistic and bad. I never said simple motivations are unrealistic. Actually, I agreed that there are plenty of people who have no scruples against harming others for personal gain, but I think most people don't think of themselves as bad people. Most people find find ways to justify those actions, and when it comes to storytelling, those are the characters that I find more compelling.
As far as whether nuance matters in fiction... we're just going to fundamentally disagree. Stories, fictional or not, help us develop compassion, empathy, and emotional intelligence. What we learn from empathizing even with fictional characters we bring into our interactions in the real world. ( @shouldastayedcourier8 's points about how the portrayal of raiders ties into the war on drugs and society's views of addicts is relevant. The U.S. prison system is bloated with nonviolent drug offenders—would that change if our media didn't consistently reinforce the idea that addicts are dangerous/unprincipled?)
Even in the case of violent criminals, I think the reasons matter very much. How can we address the systemic issues that lead people into lives of crime if we refuse to acknowledge those causal relationships?
(At this point, I do want to make it clear that I responded initially intending to clarify my point of view for those who hadn't considered it, not to convince you specifically that I'm right. If you sincerely want to understand where I'm coming from, we can keep the discussion going, but otherwise, we'll just have to disagree.)
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viinieroxide · 1 year
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—how does one love without scruples or fears or restraints?
pairing: neteyam x fem! kekunan! reader.
summary: this is the last page of the love story of the son of the chief and the daughter of freedom.
author's note: this is inspired by that one phenomenal jo and laurie scene in little women. sorry if haven't opened tumblr in a while because of exams. i also wrote this within an hour. hope it turned out well.
part 1. part 2.
"I love you."
"I won't ever become Tsahik."
"I love you."
"I am incapable of managing a home."
"I love you."
"I despise kids. They are horrendous."
"I love you, and I still want you."
"Neteyam," you said slowly, willing your voice not to quake under his gaze, but because of your effort, his name came out like a warning, a plea for him to stop uttering those dreadful words. You never knew when exactly you had stopped feeling butterflies and began feeling outright dread upon hearing the three words of proclamation of love. "I won't."
"Why?" he asked. 
"Aren't you tired of this?" you asked, swiftly changing the topic because you did not want to answer that question. "Asking me over and over again and receiving the same answer?"
"I will never get tired of you," Neteyam said, and he sounded so sure and earnest that you just had to close your eyes and take a big step back, because you were afraid that you'd do something you'd regret. The closer he was, the foggier your brain got, and you needed your brain to think and not succumb to the desire in your heart. It disgusted you far more than anything in the world, the enormity of your desire. You wish to be free from its claws every single day, but it proved only to be difficult because it was Neteyam and how can one not desire Neteyam?
"You soon will be."
He placed his hand over his chest, right above where his heart should be, "This had loved you ever since we were little. I can wait a little longer for you."
"Neteyam–"
"I love you."
"You are the next Olo'eyktan–"
"I love you."
"And you need the right person who is capable of supporting you and strengthening your position."
"You are the right person," Neteyam insisted. 
"How am I the right person?"
"You are what I need."
"But am I what the people need?"
"Do not think about them. Only think about us."
"But they need a Tsahik," you reasoned. Or at least, you tried to sound reasonable. "I cannot be Tsahik. You know that. The people need a Tsahik and they have chosen—"
"No, dont."
"—Zekem for you."
"But I choose you," Neteyam stressed. "Not Zekem, you. Only you."
"She is perfect—"
"I love you."
"—and she's beautiful—"
"I love you."
"—she's a great healer and your parents adore her." 
"But I love you.
An I love you from his mouth was not powerful enough to change the fact that you could not accept his love.
"Neteyam, love won't bring prosperity to the people," you said, and you ignored the twinge of guilt you felt immediately when you saw Neteyam's ears flatten on the side of his head, and he had avoided your gaze in favor of looking down to the ground. When he began blinking rapidly, you knew then and there that he was trying to stop his tears from falling down his cheeks, a habit of his. When you looked further down and saw his clenched fists, it only confirmed that your suspicion was right.
"So am I supposed to just become unhappy for them, too?" Neteyam whispered. "I sacrificed a lot to become the perfect person to lead them in the future, to become the perfect son they needed me to be. I was selfless, and for the first time, I actually wanted to be happy and now—now—"
"I'm sure you'll be happy with her," you said but you felt like choking on your spit when you said that. There was a petty part within yourself that said I hope you won't, but you shot it down because you had no right to say that.
"I'm going back to my clan anyway," you said, trying to sound cool as you admit the decision you had made five months ago, and Neteyam had looked up so fast that you feared he snapped his neck in half. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape.
"What?"
"I'm going back," you admitted. The very reason why you refused Neteyam's attempts at confessing the past three months. "To the Kekunan. My clan. I overstayed my welcome here."
"Wait, what brought this decision—" He was panicking, you could tell. "I thought, I thought you'd stay. Here. With us. With me."
"I do not belong here. I'm not an Omaticaya," you said and that was the truth. But the thing about the truth was that it was harsh and there were people who could not handle it.
"No, you are—"
"I'm not." You adored the Omaticaya clan, really. You were beyond thankful for them, for Jake and Neytiri for housing you when your parents had died during their visit in the clan (if your parents weren't friends with Tsu'tey and Sylwanin, both of whom were dead but owned the couple's utmost respect, you doubt they'd even glance at your situation) the same time the Sky People came back, but you knew that this was not where you belonged. You belonged to the clan of colorful banshee masters, a clan of pride, freedom, and colors, not the spiritual artisans. You belonged to the skies, free and forever unbound, and because of that, you could not become what Neteyam needed. He was destined to lead, not to become yours. 
You heard Neteyam take a deep breath, turning his head away from you. You unconsciously reached out to comfort him, until hesitation struck you because what right did you have anyway? So you pulled your hand back and it fell limp by your side. Neteyam saw this, saw your obvious hesitation, and he got your message, so he pivoted on his heels and started walking away.
"And I—"
He quickly stopped and turned around, looking at you. With a nod of his head, he urged you to continue your words, and you fucking hated how this little gesture of his made you feel because after all the suffering and pain you were causing him, he would still come back to you and listen to you and cling onto anything that shares the same shape as hope.
"I don't think I'll ever settle down, Neteyam."
There it was. The acidic words you had been desperately swallowing down your throat. Because as much as you were known for your courage and boldness, you still feared love more than any war or any horrific creature. You feared love more than death itself. And when it presented itself to you, your response was to flee and to utter lies.
He stared at you, long and hard, searching for something in your eyes. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke the gentlest of whispers.
"I think you will."
"No, I won't," you were quick to deny it.
"I think you will love someone. I think you'd have a family, raise your child, only one because you could not handle more, and become the best mother in the world. I think you'd teach your child, a son because that's what you wanted, how to fly and handle a blade. I think you'd love your spouse unconditionally and he would be the luckiest man out there because he gets to come home to you. And then you'd realize that love was never meant to restrain you or cage you, that loving does not require you to give up the freedom you cherish more than anything," Neteyam said. "And I will only watch."
And this was the end of the love story between the son of the Chief and the daughter of freedom.
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Hope you're doing well!
How do I write a villain my audience hates? I always see people loving on the villain but I want them to be hated, I want them to root for the heroes. Any advice?
Creating a Truly Evil Villain
1 - Give them a dishonorable motivation. Nothing makes it easier to forgive a villain than when they have an honorable motive, so if you want to avoid that, make sure there's nothing about the villain's motivation that could give the reader a reason to sympathize with them or even root for them.
2 - Give them a dishonorable story goal. In much the same way, when a villain's overall goal is an honorable one, even if they're going about it all wrong, it's still easy for the reader to say, "Well, I hate that they're doing all these bad things, but I appreciate that they're trying to do something good..." So, if you don't want that to happen, you have to make sure the goal is just outright terrible. It's the difference between blowing up a hostile neighboring planet (even though there are innocent people there) in order to save the galaxy versus blowing up an innocent planet out of greed or wanting to cause chaos or harm.
3 - Don't give them scruples or lines they won't cross. When villains have principles that keep them from going overboard and when they have lines they absolutely won't cross, it gives the reader a foothold to make excuses for them. So, if you want a really evil villain, make sure there's no line they won't cross. Make them merciless!
4 - Don't give them a weakness or a "soft side." Nothing humanizes a villain faster than showing them doting on their ailing older parent or doe-eyed child, or showing them struggling with a physical challenge or with their emotions. So, if you want a truly evil villain, just avoid those things all together.
5 - Don't give them a redemptive moment. Redemption is when a villain makes up for (or helps to make up for) all the bad things they did by making a major sacrifice to help Team Good. So, the last thing you want a Truly Evil Villain to do is to sacrifice anything to help Team Good. If they sacrifice anything at all, it should only be for their own benefit.
Have fun with your story!
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