i think it should have been like this
the polycule is in shambles..
Anonymous asked:
Okay but what is sebastian? We call him a he because he took the form of male butler (just like grelle lol) to disguise himself and serve his master. But in some chapters he looks like black goo and says he is nobody but can become anybody. Does that mean he can shapeshift into anything?
Dear Anon,
The short answer I personally would like to give is: “within his current contract Sebas is a ‘he’, because his identity right now is Sebastian Michaelis, the male butler. Outside this contract he is anything else.”
The long answer is long. It’s important to ask this question indeed, because I personally think it unwise to assume that demons would have genders. And if they did have genders, then how should that take shape? Is it still ‘gender’ then if it is not the same thing humans have defined as ‘gender’? Is it not just ‘identity’ to demons then?
First, let us look at what gender is.
What is gender?
Gender as we know it is an incredibly human construct; no organisms of which we know conduct gender the way we do - as an invented tradition artificially maintained for social order. Could this human-defined concept even apply to demons? When it comes to animals, we really mostly talk about ‘sex’. Humans usually only use the word ‘gender’ for animals (and humans…) as an ‘euphemism’ for sex.
The gender norms in human society were established and maintained, partially because us humans are very limited in our abilities, so we first had to set up a way to divide labour. When doing labour, ‘the male’ was proven to be superiour in terms of physical abilities, and hence came the hierarchy of men above women.
“Why stop there?” our far ancestors asked, and started a tradition of suppressing and segregating ‘sub men’ that lasts until even today. “But what if the ‘sub men’ revolt?” they also asked. “Don’t worry, let’s just TELL these ‘sub men’ that they like being subordinate to us and protect our male arses!” Someone answered.
This perfectly explains why masculinity can be so fragile, because it is guarded with paranoia, as its strength stems from an ‘invented tradition’.
Now we wonder, do demons have genders? If they do have genders, it must also be something that is socially constructed with the intent to sustain life through order, based on acknowledged superiour strength.
Let us first consider how demon society functions on its most basic level, and how strength comes into play here.
Demon Sociology: Hierarchy and Sebastian
We only have Sebas as our single reference to what a demon hierarchy might look like, so before we can use him as a measure instrument, we gotta unpack him thoroughly first.
Social Order Established Through Raw Strength
We don’t know exactly where Sebas is in the strength hierarchy of demons, but he is certainly no small fry judging by the sheer power he wields even limited by his current form. Sebas’ power is great enough to sustain himself on an empty stomach for at least three human years, and he can afford to not only be picky with his food, but also ‘season’ his food.
However, he is probably not high tiered either, because he functions/functioned a bit like a scavenger.
Given the way in which William is so set in his anti-demon-sentiments and his parallel to the robotic Japanese salary man, it is very likely he underwent considerable reaper indoctrination. This information about demons must be based on what reapers usually deal with: demons of a group that is large enough not to be a scarcity (making encounter less likely), but also strong enough to pose a threat which calls for this level of aggression. In short, reapers probably usually deal with the third category of demons in this ⇊ pyramid.
Though it was Williams racist presumption that ALL demons are scavenger beasts that eat anything available, Sebas does confirm that he was once something at least similar to what William describes.
We don’t know how demon social mobility works, so let us assume that Sebastian represents a middle-ranked demon, somewhere between category 2 and 3.
If the amount of power Sebas shows is a luxury that he can ‘afford to do’, then we can safely assume this level of power is far above the minimum needed to get by for demons.
This brings us to hypothesis 1: “A lower level of power than Sebastian’s is enough for a demon to fill their stomach and sustain themselves.”
What Grants Power?
Now the follow-up question is: “how is the power of a demon determined?” Is it the body of a demon, e.g. Sebas’ black miasma? If it is, then what determines what makes a demon’s miasma big/powerful? Is it their sex??? Probably not.
The source of a demon’s power is more likely grounded in something grander, like cosmic energy or something.
The Sexed Miasma?
Do demon miasmas have a sex? This can be answered by asking the question: “do demons reproduce?”
We don’t know how long a common demon’s life-span is, but Sebastian for one is CENTURIES old and is still as powerful as probably ever before. Judging from Sebas, demons probably don’t have the need to get children in order to guarantee food on the table for when they’re too old to do so themselves. (I know, it’s very cold and clinical, but that’s one of the two main reasons why humans reproduce in the basic sense).
Then, do demons need to reproduce, and if so, do they need to have a sexed body to reproduce? Why don’t they reproduce like slugs, or asexually like plants? But slugs and plants reproduce just to not go extinct, so do demons have to do the same considering their ridiculous life spans?
In conclusion
In short, there does not seem to be any necessity for demons to have sexed bodies to sustain their society. Neither does an X, Y or Z sexed ‘miasma’ seem necessary to make a demon stronger than another.
Demon social order must be structured on something else that determines what type of demon should be superiour over the other in a way that is supposed to benefit their society. And that is unlikely to be sex.
If there is no sex, then there is probably also nothing that would have led to a social distinction called ‘gender’ for demons.
My conclusion is that demons don’t have genders, because:
- It is entirely arbitrary to a hypothetical demon society which does not classify strength based on potential sexed miasmas.
- Sexed miasmas do not seem likely.
- The very definition of gender is that it is something constructed and defined by humans. So the moment this is not applied to a human(like) society, it might not even be ‘gender’ anymore.
In a nutshell: In Sebastian’s current contract we can address him by the pronoun that matches his current stage-role: the male butler, Sebastian Michaelis. Outside this contract he is “nothing, and can become anything”.
I hope this provided some interesting stuff to further build on! (*´▽｀*)ノ
kiss has to be one of the most disappointing bands ever. imagine hearing about this crazy rock band that dresses up in insane costumes and wears face paint and the one guy looks super demonic and has a really long tongue and everyone says they're satanic and then you listen to them and they're just singing about how they wanna bone but it's in a socially acceptable tongue in cheek way that your dad likes
‘bread is bad for you’ ‘rice is bad for you’ sorry im not subscribing to the idea that staple grains that have been integral to cultures for centuries are evil. i love you carbs
meet cute: toji being your penpal on writeainmate (and he sweet talks you into sending him commissary money)
pluvi begging you to expand on gojo not wanting what happened to his mother to happen to you 🙏
warnings: it’s all a dream so nothing is real aside from the flashback stuff but pregnancy as horror, (sewing) needles, implied gore/eye trauma, implied child harm (i don't.... wanna say abuse but whew it aint pretty), gojo is messed up yo!!! and its bc of his mama!!!
he dreams about her.
it’s an odd thing, really. gojo isn’t much of a dreamer—not much of a sleeper, all things considered, but it’s difficult not to give in when you drag him to bed and curl up in his arms. the soft rise and fall of your chest, the steady thump of your heart, the sound of your breath; it soothes him into slumber.
and he dreams about her. she was always young. he’s older now than she ever got to be. frail, thin; borderline skeletal, robes hanging from her body like webbing. she sits in a chair facing a window, swathed in moonlight, the silver of her embroidery needle glinting with each stab. her face is veiled. her stomach is swollen with child.
she doesn’t turn to him, but she beckons without noise. his feet take him easily to her, and he kneels at her side as she sets aside the embroidery hoop to let him place his head on her knees.
Truly nothing will make you hate the internet like being in charge of a young child and discovering the insane amounts of adult content (usually but not only graphic porn) made using kids' media and then advertised to kids
Loser Monologue (Nathan Prescott)
A/n: ah! this is my first tumblr post and first time writing a fanfic (If thats what you'd call it?!?) in 6 years. Let me know if i should fix anything ig?!?
this fic is inspired by loser monologue by sign crushes motorist
Blackwell Academy stood as a silent witness to the echoes of a past that still haunted Nathan Prescott's thoughts. The corridors whispered of friendships forgotten and fractured. Among those memories, there was one that resonated deeper than the rest, one person who had left an indelible mark on his heart. She had been the light to his darkness, a friend who had seen through the façade he presented to the world. She had held his secrets and his pain, offering understanding and compassion when he needed it most. They had shared countless conversations, a bond that transcended the superficial, and yet, his own demons had driven them apart.
I stare at your pictures for hours on end Dreaming, fantasizing about holding you Feeling my hands on your bare skin Just being with you But I know it'll never happen But I can't stop myself from fantasizing
His heart ached as he remembered the stolen moments he had spent gazing at her photographs, his imagination weaving scenarios that would never come to pass. He wished he could turn back time, rewrite the story that had led them to this point. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the campus. Nathan stood in the shadows of his dorm. He traced his fingers over a sketch she had left behind, her talent evident in every stroke. The memory of their laughter, their shared dreams, flooded his senses.
Every word you say sends goosebumps all over my body I've tried for so long not to look at you To not look at pictures of you To cut off all contact with you But I can't stop I can't stop how I feel I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling this way At least not for a long time
His feelings for her had grown beyond friendship, beyond the boundaries of his understanding. The depth of his emotions terrified him, leaving him torn between the fear of rejection and the longing to hold her close. Nathan sat on a bench in the campus garden, the moonlight casting a soft glow around him. His thoughts were a whirlwind of memories, regret, and a love he had never been able to comprehend. He murmured his regrets into the night, the words a whispered plea to a universe that seemed indifferent: "I wish you'd look at me the way I look at you. I wish I could be with you."
Weeks turned into months, and Nathan's determination to mend his broken pieces grew stronger. He sought therapy, confronted his fears, and wrestled with the tangle of emotions within him. But the memories of her continued to haunt him, her absence a void he could never quite fill. He stood before a shoebox hidden under his bed, its contents a collection of photographs that chronicled their time together. He had tried to get rid of them, to erase the reminders of what he had lost, but he couldn't bring himself to let go. Each photo was a piece of her he could hold onto, a tether to a time when he had felt normal, when he had felt alive.
I just want to feel the warmth of your body next to mine To see your smile I want to play with your hair See it shine under the sun as it hits you just right I want to watch the sun sink behind the heavens with you Talk, laugh, make out Anything I just want anything from you
He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be transported back to those moments when her laughter had been his lifeline, her presence a balm to his scars. He found himself drawn to the glow of the school's art gallery. A soft hum of voices and the dim light spilled from within. Curiosity tugged at him, urging him to step inside.
As he entered the gallery, his eyes widened in surprise. The walls were adorned with artwork, some of it hers. Vibrant paintings that captured a kaleidoscope of emotions and stories littered the wall. A harsh contrast to the monochrome pieces Nathan gravitated to. Each canvas seemed to hold a piece of her heart, a glimpse into her world that he had missed in their time apart.
And there, in the center of the gallery, she stood, her back turned to him as she spoke to a group of art enthusiasts. The sight of her was a reminder of the bond they had shared and the emotions he had suppressed for far too long.
He moved closer, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes roamed over her, taking in the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders, the grace with which she moved, the passion that radiated from her very being. It was as if the gallery held not just her art, but her essence, her spirit.
Nathan's gaze shifted to a particular painting—a canvas that depicted a couple beneath a starlit sky, their silhouettes locked in a tender embrace. It was a scene that felt achingly familiar, as if it echoed the unspoken longing he had carried for her all these years.
The words he had held back, the feelings he had concealed, surged to the surface. The urge to reach out, to finally voice his emotions, grew irresistible. He took a hesitant step forward, his voice quivering as he called her name
Big fan of characters realizing they don't get to die. They have to live. And grow. And be a person. And deal with shit they thought they'd never have to. And be fucked up about it. I would like more of this. Enough dying for honor or as redemption. It ain't. You're just a corpse. There is no moral value in dirt time.
you’re laughing. they’re horrifically misinterpreting my favorite character’s personality and you’re laughing
i saw some thread on xitter with some dude asking why drag queens "want to be around children so much" re: story hours and all the replies were either predictably disgusting or very defensive but not a single goddamn one of them answered the question so i will help in case anyone ever asks you this incredibly stupid question: they are clowns!! drag queens are just clowns!! they put on extremely silly makeup and huge wigs and bright clothes and do over-the-top performances that make people laugh and smile and sometimes cry. that is the definition of a clown. they like to perform for children because they are a type of clown and children are great audiences and it is not any deeper than that. god damn.
how do conservatives think talking to children works? if a four year old came up to me and said “i’m a cat!!” i would say “really? what makes you a cat?” and they’d say some shit like “i have claws >:)” and i’d be like “oh wow, you do have claws. but wait, i thought cats had pointed ears!” and they’d say “they DO!!!” and then i’d pull up a picture of an elf and ask “is THIS a cat?” and they’d yell “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”
u wouldn’t say “fucking hell, Emily, get it together. this is the real world”
The anon button is not for hate. The anon button is for horny and embarrassed about it.
alright listen spiderverse fandom. love hobie’s design, but why’s he’s always in his work outfit in group art or fics even when the others are in casual clothes? punk fashion is so cool. look!! look at the things he’d be wearing when he’s clocked out
u offhandedly ask gojo what he'd do without you after fixing something for him and he looks you dead in the face, stone cold serious, and says "die" in the firmest tone you've ever heard him speak in and he's actually telling the truth
greta gerwig really said. when this girl gets a little sad and confused by the weird and complicated and uncomfortable parts of being human and growing up, she meets god and sits at her kitchen table, drinks her tea, holds her hands. and she asks god if she’s allowed to be happy. and god tells her she doesn’t need her permission. she tells her she’s going to be okay.