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iguessthisisanewobsession · 1 year

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Ghostwriter was really asking for soup time at this point.

He had apologized for his first Christmas truce before, last year he even convinced Clockwork to help him make a copy of the original work he had ruined.

So why in god’s gracious earth did he wake up to Amity Park being in a hallmark movie.

Danny glared as the people milled about the center of town like they haven’t since the portal opening.

It was unnerving, the only thing really missing from the equation was some out of town love interest or something.

“Hey, excuse me.”

Tall and built with black hair and blue eyes.

Oh you got to be-

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick tried to make himself look more charming as the guy he approached turned around.

When he heard that the justice league were getting concerning calls about a town In Illinois, he saw an out from the Christmas gala.

Sure Dick enjoyed the season, but the fact that he has to spend a large amount of the winter season putting up a front as the perfect firstborn was not something he wanted to do unless he had to.

That being said, the town was a bit unnerving. He hadn’t seen anything supernatural per say but the constant cheer is something he had only ever seen on the silver screen of his home. He had tried to approach several different people only to be met with seasons greetings and promptly ignored when as they ran off to do whatever small towns do for the holidays.

This guy at least wasn’t plastering a smile on his face.

“Hey, excuse me I’m new in town and looking around, my name is-“

“Let me guess, Rupert or Orlando or some shit.”

“What?”

“Well it has to be pompous and annoying. It’s kind of a trend and shit last time I checked.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about man I just wanted to ask-“

The man snorted as he left, throwing over his shoulder with a large amount of snark,

“For a tour around town? A place to stay? A friendly face? Sorry man, man but I’m not interested. The town square is full, ask someone else I have a date with a caffeine addiction.”

Dick watched a bit stupefied as the guy weaves into the ground and out of his eyesight.

“Well he seemed charming.”

Dick raised his phone to the earpiece and sighed,

“Yeah well, he’s the first person who didn’t sound like they weren’t on a script so far. I didn’t even know that midwesterners took Christmas so seriously. How long until you reach town Jay?”

I’m reaching midtown just about now. It looks like Santa took a shit on every-“

There was a sudden squeal of tires as the line cut.

Oh no.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason gasped as he tried to calm his breath glancing at the guy he almost hit on his bike.

Jesus Christ that was close.

“Shit man are you alright?”

“Peachy. Always liked pancakes and all that.”

~~~~~~~

Danny felt a blush hit him as the behemoth of a guy let out a snort. It was embarrassing that he didn’t notice the guy until he almost became a smear, the dude was built like a tank and wearing a red helmet.

“I shouldn’t’ve taken that turn that quickly.. sometimes forget I’m not at home.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s home for you?”

“Gotham if you believe that.”

“Explains why you drive like you’re chased by death.”

“You have no idea..”

He took off his helmet with another snort and shake of the head. A white wisp in a sea of black shook out while mirthful blue eyes met his.

Crap..

“Name’s Jason. You are?”

“Nunya,”

The guy raised a brow mildly confused.

“Pardon?”

“Nunyabusinessbye!”

Danny took off before he was done with the sentence. He could feel eyes on his retreat for the second time today.

‘Jesus, smooth recovery Fenton.’

~~~~~~~~

Tim rubbed his eyes as he listened to his older brothers bicker over the coms.

He couldn’t understand the issue with the surveillance! All the cameras and mics are properly functioning but for some reason everything is corrupted and it’s driving Tim up a wall!

A break, Tim needed a break from this Airbnb and something caffeinated.

~~~~~~~~

‘Just ten minutes, ten minutes and he could get his drink, he could rant to his friends on the group chat afterwards and wait out the story. ‘

And with as much bravo as any tired young adult, he entered the shop.

Danny almost left the cafe as he heard another unfamiliar voice bellow out.

“What do you mean you don’t have coffee, it’s a coffee shop!”

Blue eyes, black hair, surprisingly smaller than the first two and eye bags that could rival Danny some nights.

Danny was done.

Fuck the treaty this was war.

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fragileheartbeats · 2 months

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Create another valyrian household that escaped Valyria. They hid themselves away by magic on an island not visible to anyone, they don't wish to be seen. On an island with a huge fortress accompanied with another smaller fortress which is basically a library. They are similar to Targaryens, but much more knowledgeable on everything (thanks to Valyria). They ride dragons, purple shades of eyes, silver-gold hair. Only two differences being, they have never been married outside of family(yuck) with no Westerosi blood therefore very different customs, fully valyrian customs and traditions rather than Westerosi+valyrian(Targs, Vels). Hope you have fun, thank you:)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐿𝐸 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

─ 𝘈 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤, 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𖤐

─ 𝘈 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𖤐

In the rich tapestry of Valyrian history, woven with the threads of power, magic, and dragonfire, the House Lyrielle stands as a testament to the enduring grace and wisdom of Old Valyria. Their story is a whisper on the wind, a secret melody sung by the waves that surround their hidden island sanctuary. Known to but a few, the Lyrielles are the guardians of a legacy untainted by the ambition and corruption that led to the Doom. The sigil of House Lyrielle is as enigmatic as the house itself—an angelic dragon, graceful and serene, enwreathed in a ring of white roses against a backdrop of deepest emerald. The dragon, smaller in stature but fierce in its intelligence and agility, represents the nature of the Lyrielles' own dragons. The emerald ground symbolizes their secluded island, a jewel hidden in the vast sea, and the white roses signify the purity of their intentions and the mystical barriers that veil their home from the unwary eye. Their words, "Beyond Sight, Within Light," speak to the heart of the House Lyrielle ethos. They live beyond the sight of the known world, in a realm of their own making, where knowledge and virtue shine brighter than any Valyrian steel. These words are a promise of their commitment to the greater good, a reminder of their hidden presence guiding the fate of the world from the shadows. The Lyrielles, in their seclusion, have preserved the purity of their Valyrian bloodline, untouched by Westerosi influence. Their customs and traditions remain a living tapestry of Old Valyria's glory, a culture preserved in amber amidst the tumultuous seas of change. Education and learning are held in the highest regard. The smaller fortress, known as the Lyceum of Light, houses a vast collection of scrolls and tomes, not only on magic and dragonlore but on the sciences, arts, and philosophies of the wider world. Even though the Lyrielles seclude themselves from the outside, they possess an insatiable thirst for knowledge that keeps their minds as sharp as their swords. The Lyrielles are ethereal in their beauty, with eyes that hold the mysteries of the universe—shades of purple that shift with the light. Their silver-gold hair flows like liquid moonlight, a hallmark of their Valyrian bloodline. They are skilled in the art of healing, their touch capable of mending wounds that would confound even the most learned maesters. Their bond with their dragons is profound, rooted in a deep understanding and respect for these majestic creatures.

Their dragons, lithe and swift, mirror their masters in both appearance and temperament. With scales that catch the moon's light, casting reflections in hues of amethyst and sapphire, they are specters of the night sky, their presence felt rather than seen, their agility unmatched by any creature, mythical or otherwise. To the Lyrielles, the world outside is a place of beauty marred by the scars of greed and violence. They see themselves as custodians of what remains pure and true. Their philosophy is one of balance and harmony, seeking to preserve the natural world and its wonders. They are benevolent, yet their kindness is not a weakness but a strength, fortified by their unwavering sense of justice and fairness.

The Lyrielles embody a paradox. They are both guardians and isolationists, wielding their power to protect the natural world and its untold secrets while shunning the very societies they seek to preserve from afar. Their personalities are marked by a gentle demeanor, an innate grace that belies the strength and wisdom that centuries of unbroken tradition have instilled in them. They are the custodians of healing, their knowledge of the arcane arts allowing them to mend wounds and cure maladies thought beyond the reach of mortal hands. Yet, for all their power and knowledge, the Lyrielles possess a naivety born of their seclusion. They view the outside world through the lens of caution and fear, tales of its dangers passed down through generations. This isolation has fostered a deep sense of kinship and loyalty among them, their bonds unbreakable, their trust in one another absolute. In a realm where the quest for power often leads to ruin, House Lyrielle remains a beacon of hope. They are the whisper in the heart of the storm, the unseen hand that guides towards light. Their existence is a testament to the belief that even in the darkest of times, there are those who shine brightly, not for glory or fame, but for the love of all that is good and true in the world.

My other original house:

House Celestyr

House Valysar

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

@emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

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onlymingyus · 10 months

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mingyu masterlist

key

🍑Smut/Mature/Suggestive 🍓Fluff 🍍Angst 🍒 Poly/Multiple 🍊 MLM/Male Reader 🍋 Toxic 🍌 Comedy 💀 Horror/Thriller

Mingyu Thots • Mingyu Fluff

Bad Day 🍑

The Game 🍑

The Picture 🍑

Silence 🍑🍓

Comfort w/ Wonwoo🍑🍒

Secrets 🍑🍓🍌

My Everything 🍑🍓

Puppy 🍑

Your Games Suck [pt 2] (ft Wonwoo & Seungcheol) 🍑🍒

Aphrodite 🍑

Good Little Puppy 🍑

Your Games Suck: Gam3 Boi Edition (HHU) 🍑🍒

Need for Speed (Halloween Special)🍑🍌

Details (with Wonwoo) 🍑🍒

Behind the Lens 🍑

Hallmark Moment (SVTHUB Collab) 🍓🍍🍌

Rebuild 🍍🍓

Elevator 🍑

Positions 🍑

Hallmark Moment: Love on 42nd St. 🍓🍑🍍🍌

Fangs (ft. Woozi) 🍑🍒🍊

Remember Me 🍑

Cake & Wishes 🍑🍓

Eat, Baby (peachybun-bun) 🍑

Such a Brat (ft Joshua) [peachybun-bun] 🍑🍒

Hush (ft. Joshua) [peachybun-bun] 🍑🍒

Simple Bite 🍑💀

In Your Corner 🍑🍍🍋

Hallmark Moment: Daddy’s Day 🍓🍑

Betting (Patreon Exclusive) 🍑🍓

Past Kisses 🍓🍍

tipsy gyu🍑

mingyu + breath play🍑

mingyu + corruption kink🍑

mingyu & woozi threesome🍑🍒🍊

another mingyu & woozi threesome🍑🍒

messy blowjob🍑

mingyu + body worship🍑

sex after a long week🍑🍓

eating you out🍑

mingyu + mirror sex🍑

another mingyu + corruption🍑

mingyu + breeding🍑

mingyu & jeonghan threesome 🍑🍒

sub!gyu🍑

mingyu + size kink🍑

big dick gyu🍑

more big dick gyu🍑

mingyu & sunwoo threesome🍑🍒

spanking mingyu🍑

jun & mingyu threesome 🍑🍒

mingyu & flowers🍓

taking care of you when you’re sick🍓

meeting your little sister🍓

mingyu & minghao coworkers 🍑🍒

mingyu & minghao at the gym 🍑🍒

mingyu wants to be a dad 🍓🍑

#masterlist #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #onlymingyus masterlist #seventeen fanfic

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blacknedsoul-blog · 3 months

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Lenore Vandernatch: the rogue, the gothic heroine and the courtly knight. A review of archetypes

Okay, after going over my notes, here we are again. In case you don't know what this is all about, here is the first of these posts where I'm doing a review of some of the archetypes that Annabel and Lenore seem to be taking notes on.

Just so this doesn't end up being another 3000 word post, let's get started.

The Rogue

In 1554, the first written version of "El Lazarillo de Tormes" was published, the foundational work of what would become known in Spain as the "picaresque novel": stories centered on the rogue, a poor rascal who uses trickery to ensure his survival.

At this stage of the game, we have rogues in a variety of flavors and colors. It would be difficult to make a comprehensive list, so let's talk about these characters in general.

The first thing to note is that rogues are, by definition, outsiders. In the traditional picaresque, the rogue is simply someone from the lower classes, but as this archetype has grown, it has become less about class and more about criminality.

Yes. Rogues are criminals: thieves like Robin Hood, swindlers like the Lazarillo...

Fraud, arson. You name it.

Getting back to the issue of the rogue as an outsider, they may have been one from the start, or they may have become one after attaining their criminal status. Regardless of the reason, these people operate outside of the law, the authorities generally give a shit, and, depending on your rogue flavor, may even actively fight against it.

One thing to note here: this goes a bit beyond Lenore's rebellious attitude. Like a good rogue, she derives enormous personal satisfaction from the thought of getting her way. The world has turned its back on the rogue, so the rogue will not hesitate to turn her back on the world.

In Lenore's case, this attitude of throwing all authority to the wind and actively ignoring any rules imposed on her is a mixture of personality and trauma. In the flashbacks, we see that Lenore has always had a certain disdain for protocol and formalities, but of course, after being locked up for at least a year because the rules of the society she lives in have decided to make her an outcast for her brother 's death, she no longer finds any reason to listen to what they have to say to her. The rules will never go beyond the feeling that she has agency over her life.

From this follows the methods of the rogues: opportunism is one of their hallmarks. Ingenuity, cunning, and creativity are common traits among these characters, something that is usually tied to their status as outsiders and criminals; they don't care about rules, so they think outside the box, either because they are highly intelligent or because they lack common sense.

Maybe both.

So, yes, when Annabel tells her dashing rogue, she's not wrong in the least. But there are more interesting things to look at here

The Gothic Heroine

When some theorists say that Gothic heroines are bland and uninteresting characters, it's...true. But there's a reason for that, so let me get that out of the way for a moment: the image of the maiden in this period is used as a symbol of purity, chastity, goodness, and her corruption, death, or disease works on both a literal and metaphorical level. It is like when you see grotesque religious images in horror movies, there is a powerful and disturbing charge in the idea of seeing something "pure" destroyed.

So the thing about gothic heroines is that, at worst, they are not characters who contribute to the story they are in, but tokens, quasi-sacred representations who are there to die, get sick, or fall victim to a villain who might sexually harass them. Yes, unpleasant.

But good gothic heroines (besides possibly having tuberculosis) are characters with arcs related to corruption, especially mental corruption. And this is where it gets interesting.

But we go from less to more. In her flashbacks, Lenore's physical appearance is almost exactly that of a gothic novel protagonist: pale, almost cadaverous, slender, languid in her movements (because, in this case, she's drugged a significant percentage of the time), and long hair.

Her background in this part of the story, like that of the best gothic heroines, is one of mental corruption: she is here, imprisoned, withering and losing her mind, giving in to despair. There are those who point out a rather strong resemblance between the scene where Lenore tears the flowered wallpaper from her room and the short story The Yellow Wallpaper by the writer Charlotte Perkins. And although this story is not gothic, it definitely retains the most important trope of the genre.

Another element in which we can find Lenore is in the Gothic ballad of the same name, written by Gottfried Bürger in 1773. This poem tells the story of Lenore, a girl condemned by narrative for blaspheming against heaven after the death of her beloved, who is later visited by the Grim Reaper himself to take her to him.

A heartbroken woman committing blasphemy in the name of a lost love? I wonder if that sounds familiar.

And if I had to point out one particular gothic heroine with whom Lenore shares important similarities, it would be Laura from Carmilla.

With the first, she shares two very important things: isolation and a penchant for women who can murder her, a complicated relationship with a gothic vampire.

Laura lives in complete isolation from the world, with the only company of maids and her father; within the first few chapters, we know that she can barely remember the last time she had the company of a woman her own age. Like Lenore in the flashbacks, Laura is something of a secret, hidden from the world (though for less horrific reasons).

And that isolation is broken by the arrival of an elegant, almost supernaturally beautiful upper-class lady who almost kicks in her door with a "Hi, I want to be friends. You'll like me."

Both Laura and Lenore are not afraid of the vampire, though they are not unaware of her strange behavior and will raise a puzzled eyebrow at her promises of affection, as well as her obvious tendency to insist on a fucked-up secret that they are in the middle of and can't share. Another important detail is that both characters have a certain difficulty in describing their feelings as romantic: both are very obviously obsessed with this mysterious lady who has come to interrupt their loneliness, but Laura never fails to refer to Carmilla as her "friend" (a behavior that the modern reader may interpret, with more than fair reason, as comphet), and Lenore is little more than that, at least until the mansion arch where the shingle falls on her.

Last but not least, just as Lenore is treated as "crazy," there are several events in Laura's life (such as her first encounter with Carmilla when she was a child) or that occur throughout the novel that are dismissed by those around her as her being a little touched in the head.

The courtly knight

Here it is necessary to make a distinction: knights are a far-reaching figure, but before and during the Middle Ages they mainly starred in two types of stories: the canta de gesta (which was intended to tell great deeds of inspiration for certain peoples, such as the Song of Mio Cid in Spain or the Song of the Nibelungs in Germany. This last one is the best Canto de gesta in history, I do not accept arguments) and the Novel of chivalry or courtly (focused on the individual story of the knight and introduces elements of the court).

What is the main difference between the knight of the canto de gesta and the knight of the court? Well... the latter is much more horny. And we are talking about Lenore, so you have until the end of this paragraph to imagine which of these knights we are talking about.

The first thing to keep in mind is that the Courtly Knight has a pretty strong moral compass: nobility, mercy, loyalty, and honor are values they firmly believe in; these characters are heroes, and that means that while they are not perfect, they represent ideals that are considered important in this time. And we're talking about vassalage, so you get it.

This is the first thing Lenore has in common with the knights of the court: her strong sense of morality. Yes, she's not afraid to play dirty like a rogue, but she's pretty clear about what things are important to her in that regard, and she's willing to uphold those ideals even in the context of Nevermore, which actively encourages its students to kill and betray each other.

However, the personal agendas of these knights have one important thing in common: the conflict between their own desires and their duty.

What are those desires? Well...

Good courtly knights usually have to choose between their love/sexual interests and where their personal loyalties lie, which, due to the era in which these stories take place, are usually their feudal lords or even kings.

We already established that Lenore doesn't give a shit about authority, but her personal loyalty is to her friends. And this is where it gets tricky for her: So far in the comic, Lenore has kept her relationship with Annabel a secret from her friends, and she has kept the fact that she wants to save her friends a secret from Annabel. A conflict that may eventually blow up in her face, and on the face of it, really befits a courtly knight (though if she were a real one, the Misfits might ask her to kill the Deans or something in exchange for accepting her relationship with Annabel).

To continue with this, we need to stop for a moment and talk about another little thing: courtly love. There are many definitions of it, but my favorite is the one that defines it as an attempt to reconcile mystical love with eroticism. Fun fact: these stories were written in the Provençal language, something that would associate romantic tropes with "vulgar language".

In any case, courtly love usually speaks of the beloved maiden as an idealized object, a figure who inspires an almost religious devotion. And the most recurrent theme within courtly love is what is called "love from afar": it focuses more on the journey in search of the beloved than on the couple's relationship as such (this journey can be literal or metaphorical), the knight has symbols associated with the pilgrim, there is a certain hatred of the image, the maiden is seen as an almost religious figure, and...

Yes, the color associated with the so-called "love from afar", specifically with the beloved maiden, is damn blue.

Now that we've got all that out of the way, it's time to break down why Lenore fulfills some of these things and why she doesn't.

Going with the tropes that are fulfilled, we can say that Lenore is on a more or less metaphorical journey. A journey to recover her memories and her identity. One at the end of which her lover waits for her "until the abyss claims them both".

Like a knight, Lenore is willing to make great personal sacrifices in pursuit of the things she cares about: she is willing to die for the people she cares about (the misfits) and for her lover (Annabel). The Living Long Thing is something the Knight don't know about, and since Lenore is in Nevermore, apparently neither does she.

With all that said, it's worth noting the biggest difference: courtly love features relationships based on vassalage and a huge power differential. Something that does not happen here. No, Lenore calling Annabel "my liege" doesn't count.

To explain this further -and to summarize, because it's a subject that bloody books have been written about-t he relationships in courtly love have two different levels of power: the knight must perform feats to be worthy of affection, and the maiden is little more than a prize to be won.

This unbalanced power dynamic is something that simply does not exist in the White Raven: an important part of their relationship is that both are equal in charisma, intelligence, and resourcefulness. The unstoppable force and the immovable object. Annabel is as willing to die for Lenore as she is for herself, and Lenore would probably go into berserker mode if anyone dared to treat Annabel as a prize.

Yes, you could argue that the balance of power is a bit weighted toward Lenore because Annabel is willing to make sacrifices for her that Lenore wouldn't make because she has some, you know, morals. But I think that has more to do with Annabel's character than her relationship with Lenore (that's another analysis I have a pin for when the season is over).

Conclusions

If the archetypes that Annabel seems to take note of are all quite related, Lenore, on the contrary, is much more like a mosaic: these characters have little in common and some (like the Rogue and the Knight) directly contradict each other. This woman is chaotic in her conception: opportunistic and rebellious as a rogue, pious and with strong values as a knight, and condemned by the narrative as a gothic heroine.

Another thing that stands out is that two of these three archetypes are traditionally male characters. Personally, I don't think Lenore is "like a man": her entire background and personal history is meant to work in terms of her status as a woman in the time period she lives in. She can do all the shit these male heroes do and better (though the hc that Lenore is somewhere on the non-binary spectrum is not a reading that conflicts with that).

And I use the word "hero" because another detail stands out here as well: yes, many of these characters are not only often the protagonists of the stories they are in, they are heroes within their historical periods and literary movements.

I'm going to do a third part of this comparing Lenore's archetypes to Annabel's because, believe me, there's some really crazy stuff to unpack there.

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #white raven #lenore vandernacht

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chuckwon · 5 months

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I find it hard to imagine an emotionally satisfying and compelling plotline for an SPN sequel/revival that isn’t “Chuck won” related.

Here’s my logic:

-What reason would there be for Sam and Dean to push to ~leave Heaven~ if they’re supposedly content? (The Winchesters also showed us exactly why Dean ISNT content, at length, and that’s still true for his character whether or not the sequel/revival will reference any of its plot and events directly.)

-To position Sam and Dean as compelled to leave Heaven for ANY reason unavoidably highlights the original finale wasn’t a good ending. (Which, again, The Winchesters has already elaborated upon for 13 episodes.) That necessitates answering why and how that ending happened at all.

-They can go with some kind of general “Well life is life. Sometimes you die. True free will is that everything can’t be perfect :/ They just want a second chance“ but that WOULD be a cop out. Not compelling at all and blatantly hollow reasoning to just make more of the show.

-If Jack’s truly the new God, and that’s supposedly good and fine, what reason would HE have for resurrecting Sam and Dean? What could he ~need~? There’s no POV where Sam and Dean having more “work to do” isn’t tragic, and no compelling sense to it if it’s not about the obvious: Jack’s the problem.

-How’s Jack the problem? However you slice it, he’s been corrupted by God power. That routes back to Chuck because he orchestrated this outcome, as well as cycles of violence.

-Any SPN sequel requires reciprocal Destiel. It simply does. And the original silence—Dean and Cas being kept apart at the end of season 15—is thematically connected to all this.

-If Jack was corrupted by God power and that was Chuck’s plan all along, things have then been “fake” and called into question just like throughout s15; so, what’s real? Unavoidably there’d have to be emphasis on that. And what’s “real” still includes, purposefully, Destiel. They’re a hallmark of reality and their love is part of the key to their collective freedom.

It’s just math to me!! All the threads tie together!!!!

They could do something else, of course. But if they just pull some random big bad out that the gang needs to fight (that Good Jack can’t handle?? A BIGGER God??) it’ll be laughably transparent and hard to care.

That’s why the Akrida were even connected to Chuck in The Winchesters. They know this. They’re in a corner. They could resurrect Sam and Dean to do small cases again, but… again, to what purpose?

If they resurrect Supernatural, they’d better have a damn good premise.

There’s no Bigger Bad than the Big Bad they already fought and supposedly defeated…unless they didn’t win.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The brothers and the gay angel need to free their son. And themselves in the process.

#getting back on my bullshittttt (I never left)#I posted this on twitter days ago and forgot to put it here #supernatural #Chuck won #SPN revival #SPN sequel #Chuck won theory #Chuck won meta #my meta

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pedge-page · 5 months

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Feelin a little ⚡️sadistic⚡️today and decided to write an alternate future ending for the Cravings series. This is not part of their canon story, but this one would hypothetically take place after Insatiable as a more realistic turnout. This isn’t a continuation because frankly I don’t have a satisfying, or even full ending to this. Its just a thought.

If you liked the ending of Insatiable and want to remain happy with it, DO NOT READ THIS. This is for masochistic peeps who want some heartbreak.

Warnings: only brief mentions of smut but otherwise, this just a downward spiral of worse case scenarios. Some warnings are spoilers so the only one I’m going to list here is drug use and toxic behavior.— I also did very little research here on actual repercussions of drug charges, rehab, or anything really, so please take all of it with less than a grain of salt and focus on the feels

Again DONT READ IF YOU LOVED THE ENDING TO INSATIABLE. this will ruin everything :)

- - - -

You stare at the empty apartment that had become your home for the last two years. That had been filled with so much love, so much laughter and joy. So much insatiable sex and warmth. It’s incredible how much more spacious the floor really is when all the furniture had been removed, how bright the walls really are without any hanging and photos. Despite its small size, it worked just perfectly for you and the man you love. Two years. Memories you could never swipe away despite the cold vacancy of the apartment now, even with the promise of a boundless and full future ahead.

Your hand gently caresses over the hefty bump that has made its own home in you for some months. You sooth your baby’s little kicks, smiling, a tear welling in your eye but you dare not shed it.

You were ready to start the next phase of your life. The one with a home to call your own, a front porch to rock your baby on, a full kitchen to make a true Thanksgiving feast, a bedroom suite, and then extra rooms for a growing family.

You were ready to start your life.

A life without Frankie Morales.

You should have known then. With the signs so blatantly evident, like quick temper, aggressive nature in his love making, obsessiveness over you, the jealousy. The way he took too much pride in constantly leaving marks on you. Subtle threats to other men who misinterpreted your kind smile and words as an invite. Forcing you to stay in bed, to take his cock deep into your battered cunt even when you were exhausted. You both thought your orgasms was your way of wanting more, even if the rest of your body protested. but he filled your ears with such sweet praise, touched you with a fervent love that made your heart flutter, adored you like no one else.

From the day you told him you loved him, you should have stopped then, seeing how far he had gone just without you. It wasn’t healthy to rely on someone like that. To say sober. Frankie’s dependence on you was…corrupt. It had been from the beginning.

You ignored it.

Then Frankie and the boys, including Tom which you were surprised by, were called down for a less than legit mission. Tom didn’t come home, and Frankie, the one you knew, didn’t quite come home the same. He didn’t talk to you about it, ever. None of the guys did. You just held him for hours the night he got back, his hair whiter, eyes more sunken in than ever. After some time, things went back to normal. Until you realized, they were never normal to begin with.

The first evident sign that life wasn’t a hallmark movie anymore was when you had been stuck in traffic during a storm, and then had to pull off for hours until it passed; you couldn’t get a signal out to your boyfriend that you were safe, but going to be home late.

3 hours passed by the time you walked into the apartment. Warm Frankie, gentle Frankie, happy Frankie… wasn’t home.

Instead it was feral Frankie, desperate Frankie, curled in a corner, pale and shaking Frankie who only cracked a timid smile when you had walked in, drenched in rain, but alive and concerned for him. He immediately bear hugged you tight, the jitters passing as he inhaled your wet scent. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I promise. I’m so sorry I’m so late,” you soothed.

He didn’t let you leave his sight the entire night. And even into the morning, when you had to get up for work again, he held you against his body in bed, refusing to let you part, distracting you with sex over and over again until half the day had passed. He texted your boss saying you were out sick from the rain last night. No biggie.

He was only calm when you were around. Only satisfied when you were with him.

The guys never told you, but he was irritable when it was just him with them. He didn’t like talking as much. Didn’t laugh the way he used to. It’s like the real Frankie only came out when you were there.

And when you had to take a week for a work trip, he begged you to cancel it. Clawed at his own skin as the day of your flight crept up. Visibly anxious enough that you weren’t sure he’d be okay. “Just stay home, Querida. Please.”

But he’s a grown man. It’s just a little trip, and he’s one phone call away.

So when the week went by, and he missed a few of your calls towards the end, you came home, worried about what you might find. But you were delighted to see Frankie was, in fact, in high spirits, healthy, and seemingly unaffected by your absence. “Mi Hermosa,” he whispered against your lips, bringing you in his embrace and rocking you gently. You made love sweetly that night, and you started to wonder what it is you were so afraid of.

It took you a few weeks before you noticed the slight powdery trail of cocaine on the handle of his gun safe. And guessing the combination as your birthday, discovering bags full of the stuff, some stored and some half opened, and re-opened, half depleted.

You couldn’t even call Frankie, who was away—you didn’t really know where. He would just up and leave sometimes now. Your heart dropped at the idea of exactly where he’s been bouncing off to. You realized he was more static for your the frequent trips you were taking due to your career taking off. that the two of you were spending less time together, but you weren’t really aware of exactly what he was doing during that time. He clearly was never high when he was around you, and was adept at hiding his problem when you were home.

You called the boys. Santi came running over, swearing repeatedly in Spanish at the sight of the stash. Benny and Will came over too, clearing it all out while you sobbed into Pope’s arms. How could you be so stupid to think it was all going so well?

It then all happened so fast: you weren’t even there when they confronted Frankie, didn’t know it went over badly, that he wasn’t gentle at all, still blown high as fuck, and fists went flying, bloody knuckles and broken noses later. Then getting an immediate court date, not able to come up to see you for a second. You were there in the room, only seeing the wrecked look all over his body, the way he couldn’t even bring his eyes to you.

He plead guilty to his drug charges, lost his license indefinitely, and was only spared from a prison sentence with the promise of extensive treatment at a rehab center for at least a year, and a large bond, that you and the guys poured a shit ton of your life savings in to. Then Frankie was being husked away to his hospital-like prison, with no visitations until the first year of intense treatment passed.

It was all coming at such a bad time too, having just thrown out the 3 positive pregnancy tests in the dumpster behind the apartment building just this morning.

None of you told Frankie about the baby before he left. You asked them not to. As far as today went, including Frankie in your life, in your baby’s life, wasn’t an option at the moment. You would deal with that when he was out, when he was Frankie again.

Now a few months since the incident, 7 months pregnant, you packed the apartment quietly minus your little sniffles. Pictures of the of you at the fair, in a museum, on vacation in Miami, were packed in a cardboard box and sealed away until you could find your home again. His furniture and belongings went into storage for the time being while your parents found a little house that could accommodate you and baby Morales. With one last look, you close the apartment door, breathing heavily. You hope to see Frankie again the moment he was allowed visitors. To see him smile again just for you. To come to a new home and see his baby boy growing, and filling the time he missed with an infinity of love, devotion, and health.

So when you gave birth all by yourself, and fended two jobs while nurturing your baby all by yourself, and strapped the infant in the car as you drove 4 hours to the rehab center to see your boyfriend all by yourself, it didn’t feel—good, to be told Frankie specifically requested not to have any visitors today. And even when you tried to argue with the receptionist about the situation, to give him your name specifically, she came back with the same answer, and said the patient has a right to refuse visitation, even after it is permitted.

Santi stays with you for a few days after, given what an absolute exhausted wreck you had become after braving the whole year and only running on sheer hope this whole time. The guys rotated shifts, fed you and the baby, cleaned, let you sleep your depression away until you were ready to move on.

Frankie denied their visitation too.

Another year goes by, and still no Frankie. He had gone completely off the grid for everyone. All the doctors reported was that he was responding well, fully taking charge and utilizing the time that he needed to get clean. You learned that he had found a place to live in the area and regularly returned for treatment. But he never once contacted any of you to where he lived.

Good. You were doing much better too.

And when the third year goes by, celebrating your son’s second birthday, you don’t feel such guilt when you stumble upon a new man and invite him in to your life. And how much he takes to loving a son who isn’t his own. And when you feel a sense of excitement after a long time without it, when the new love of your life gets on his knees to propose, asking you to continue to fill his life with a home to share. And when you’re pregnant with another baby, your little Francisco being so excited to be a big brother, in the new house that had never breathed the same air as the man who left you behind all that time ago.

It does become a problem when you answer the knocks on your front door, swinging it open to a very frail, very thin, and very remorseful looking Francisco Morales standing there, looking at the swell in your stomach, wedding ring on your finger, and carbon copy of himself as a child standing at your hip.

- - - -

sorryyyyy

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ms-nesbit · 9 months

Text

moulin rouge (chapter 2 of empire records)

a jason todd x reader fic

summary: reader and jason embark on their second date at the Gotham Library, where Jason indulges reader on a secret.

rating: 18+ (minors kindly fuck off)

warnings: masturbation, sex worker!jason todd, cam model!jason todd, reader is plus/mid size

ao3

note: please support by reblogging, and don't be a dick by reposting elsewhere! thank you so much!

Whistling wind carrying Jason’s loose strands of hair to and fro on his head, mimicking a wind vane atop a tall barn, he strolled peacefully toward the brick building’s double doors, pulling them wide open (without the assistance of the turbulence - wretched equinox) before entering.

Jason was no stranger to the library, and he nodded to the librarians at the circulation desk, who (uncharacteristically) stopped to all wave at him; he was a frequent patron, and attended whatever event he was able. “High noon, Fred!” he beamed at the security guard upon passing through the theft-deterrents that failed to draw up to Jason’s figure, making it to his torso.

Fighting his instinct to tread to the third floor and sit in his unassigned seat near the retired fireplace, Jason planted his steel-toed feet to the ground, second guessing his outfit choice. “Oh, look at you!” A librarian walked by, commenting on Jason’s attire. “Are you going out this evening, Mr. Todd?”

“Just have someone I’m seeing in a few minutes, Luz.” Jason replied, wiping down his mahogany button up. “How ya doin, though?”

Luz stopped her mission to the circulation desk, various media in hand, as she pondered, sticking out one of her mustard flats. “Probably nothing as exciting as what you’ve got going on. Oh, to be young!” she suspired jokingly, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thank you!” From a young age, Jason was taught by his adoptive father’s butler to speak to elders with respect, especially in a formality such as the library. He disagreed with many of his father’s views, eventually leading to the pair having a final quarrel before Jason’s departure from Wayne Manor and into the Gotham flats.

In fact, it was why Jason stumbled into camwork in the first place: he found himself quitting each and every dead-end shift, arguing with the boss or co-workers. Jason was a hothead, escalating otherwise mundane and calm situations simply because he was tired of feeling trapped by others.

Perhaps y/n felt that way, too. Even if she hadn’t, it seemed she respected his space, something that most close to him refused to do. “Jason?” he responded to the voice behind him like a dog upon his owner’s arrival, tail wagging. When he turned, his eyes laid on y/n, wearing knee-high platform boots, sienna tights underneath an umber A-line skirt decorated with paperclips, a rust-colored top under a leather jacket, and a thick knitted scarf in deep brown.

Y/n was an angel rejected from heaven, bestowed upon Jason, and he could not shake the downright corrupt images that projected in his mind. “Wow.” he said, hiding the other words under his tongue for later.

Y/n checked him out unabashedly, licking her lips. “I could say the same, Jaybird. What do you wanna do here? Read me a bedtime story?” she wiggled her eyebrows comically, triggering a blush from the tall man before her.

“Well, you chose somewhere you go to often, so now it’s my turn. May I?” Jason extended his elbow for y/n to take, and led them to the elevator, where Jason punched the Four that was missing its vowels on the button.

If it wasn’t for the guidelines previously set, y/n would have jumped his bones in the elevator, ignoring the security cameras that would have recorded the uncensored evidence. “So you come here often?” the sentence was worded deliberately, a juxtaposition to her compassionate voice.

“I have since I was little. Helped a lot to just disappear in a story, as much as it sounds like a line for a goddamn Hallmark greeting card.” Jason rolled his eyes at himself.

“What did you read?”

The elevator dinged and doors opened, gesturing for y/n and Jason to vacate the confined space. Jason led y/n past the rows of encyclopedias and historical archives and into a crossroads of shelves divided by a set of armchairs. He walked at a sharp angle with y/n, leading her away from the world and into his nook, where his lounge chair waited for him.

And there it was, in front of the decommissioned fireplace. Jason pulled out the other chair for y/n, which she sat in, before pushing it lightly and sitting in the one adjacent to hers. Immediately, as if at home, he reclined and shut his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Y/n watched closely as he made himself comfortable. His lips parted and adam’s apple bobbed, reminding her of the videos she stared at the night before, Jason’s hand slowly stroking his cock, head thrown back, letting out guttural, obscene noises. Y/n shifted uncomfortably in her seat, moisture collecting in her underwear.

“When I was a kid, I thought librarians lived here.”

The confession came out of nowhere, and it drew a chuckle from y/n. “Like with teachers?”

Jason nodded. “Yep. And I, for some fucking reason, built this fort in the corner by the fire exit. I remember my dad and Alfred looking for me for hours, even calling the police because they thought I ran away again.” he smiled, eyes still closed, and it warmed y/n’s bosom. “One officer came right by me and put out his hand for me to take, and I was freaking out, y’know? ‘Cause fuck cops, right?” Y/n nodded in solidarity. “And I bit his hand. I bit it.”

Y/n erupted into laughter, which was quickly hushed by Jason. “No fucking way.”

“Way.” Jason’s eyes shot open and looked directly at y/n with as much seriousness as he could. “And he cussed and swore, saying ‘fuck’ this and ‘fuck’ that, and it was the funniest shit I went through. Though at the time I was scared shitless because I just wanted to stay and sleep in the librarians’ home and see what they did after the library closed.”

Y/n gazed at Jason. She swore she heard a harp playing. “That is so dorky, but so…fucking romantic.” The response caused Jason to grin at y/n shyly, smile lines forming on his cheeks. “What happened?”

“Al‒my butler‒found me and talked me down from it. A couple of weeks later, he spoke with the district director, and they arranged for me to have a sleepover.”

“And?”

Jason took y/n’s hand in hers, bringing it to his lips to place a small kiss on the underside of her hand. “I pissed my pants in the sleeping comforter.”

Falling forward, y/n laughed silently, wheezes and snorts disturbing the peaceful atmosphere. She couldn’t contain herself, and why should she? Jason adored how pleasantly she felt in her skin, and it showed in that moment: her bright smile, full cheeks, broad hips wiggling in her seat…she’s an open book, and it inspired him to do the same.

But he hesitated. It was the battle he faced, him and his fears: he didn’t want to repeat the past, spend another week isolated and hiding from the sun in an attempt to starve and deprive himself from sanity. Jason knew he was attractive - his followers and bank account reflected it - but he was used for it. Misled, and then taken advantage of, and for what? Momentary bliss? Clout?

A cloud formed over his head as he began to swim in the pool of decrepit thoughts that gathered in him. Why was he used? Why wasn’t he enough? Would y/n treat him the same way? Paranoia was his kryptonite, but it was hardwired in him from his early childhood years spent in the streets, abused by his biological parents.

Y/n saw the gloominess ruminating on the tall man beside her, and she halted her laughter, cupping his chin with her hand. Jason felt the touch, skin burning hot, as he faced her. “I once was jealous of Ally Snow, the horse girl of our fourth grade class, so I accidentally committed arson to her camp bunk site.”

Jason’s jaw dropped, skies in his mind clearing before a funnel cloud could form. “Arson?!”

“Mmhmm.” Y/m hummed. “I was lucky that: a) Ally’s camp counselor bailed that night, because I may have miscalculated and lit fire to the counselor’s bunk, and b) nobody found the culprit.” her eyes may have been the blaze of fire itself with the way she glared at the ground in immense passion.

Jason patted her hand, her nails now clawing at his cheek. He temporarily thought of her nails digging into his back while he… he blinked away the thought. “So you weren’t caught?”

Y/n shook her head. “And I got to watch my best friend, Yessica, punch her in the fucking face the following fall.”

They sat in their chairs, alighting the fireplace with their embarrassing stories, taking turns laughing and poking fun at each other. Before they realized, the library announced its closing time soon, and they gathered themselves, exiting the library in a fit of giggles. The librarians at the circulations saw this, and exchanged knowing looks, telling without words being spoken.

“Can I see you again soon?” it was y/n’s turn to ask when they stepped down from the platform of the library.

Jason stepped forward, closing the gap between them as he pulled her into a kiss, their lips locking instantly. “Anytime.” he grinned when he pulled away, their faces mere inches from each other.

—-

One notification.

Y/n checked her phone as she closed her loft door, tossing her keys on the kitchen table nearby. Do you want to do something specific for our next date? Food? Entertainment? Guns? Riots?

Y/n smiled and rolled her eyes at the question. I’m down to clown at a riot. Maybe a clown riot? Dunno how that would go though.

A reply appeared. Fuck clowns. I’d rather be dead than be seen with one. How about a cemetery for our next date? Picnic?

Abso-fucking-lutely. y/n agreed, her heart fluttering at the idea of a moonlit picnic at the Gotham cemetery. She spun as she held her phone close to her chest, before another notification appeared.

Robin Hood is now live! Tap to check in now.

Thoughtlessly, y/n tapped the badge on her phone, opening an app she downloaded a few days ago to streamline Jason’s webcam streams.

The stream began in a dimly lit room with tools hung on the wall in the background. Y/n squinted at the array of tools, recognizing the brand. “You gonna make me beg, Baby? Make me beg to come? Hmm?” the words shook y/n, no longer distracted by the Craft tool kit hanging neatly on the wall, and eyes fixating on the tall brunette stripping himself from his button up and slacks.

Y/n watched closely, so closely, she worried, she didn’t blink - she soaked in the sight of Jason’s fingers finagling with his own clothes, revealing himself to her in an intimate way as he spoke so titillatingly. For a man with an intimidating figure, he was so submissive, and y/n wanted to explore it as much as he allowed.

Right now, it was about him though, and Jason was already stripped from his slacks, which gathered by his ankles on the ground, his shirt unbuttoned, but still worn. “Come on, Princess. Make me come, please.” the begs were earlier than last time, and y/n hoped she was the source, listening with open ears for her name to be called, chanted so beautifully like last time.

He didn’t stroke his cock this time, either; he thrusted into it, head tilted back to expose his neck, the adam’s apple bobbing again. He donned a flushed face that was so euphoric, y/n wished he could open his eyes so she could swim in his glossed over irises. “‘M gonna come, fuck.” his breath wavered, thrusts methodical but ruthless.

It was obvious he wanted y/n, and the feeling was mutual, y/n resisting the urge to touch herself until after she saw him reach his breaking point. And it was soon. “G-god,” he whispered shakily, “y/n” he was louder with the name, calling to her as if she was watching, “please let me come.” the words carried so much weight, so heavy as they fell into y/n’s ears, as if he wanted her to tell him to come.

And she opened up the chat, which was flooded with comments about the ‘mystery girl’ Jason was thinking about, or sexual compliments that made her blush. Wanting the command to be more intimate, she opted for a text message instead: come for me, Jason. Let me see you come.

His phone chimed and he read the notification, his hips increasing with speed. “You like seeing my cock like this? Want me to come? I’m gonna come so hard for you.” his grip tightened around his cock as he pistoned his hips, mouth falling open as moans filled the room. “Oh, y/n,” he whined, “yes!” he whimpered, voice unsteady as his hips finally slowed, cum spilling from his cock. His orgasm was powerful, taken from him too soon - yet not soon enough for him - and the sight of his blissed out state was too much for y/n to handle, who rushed to her bed to rub her clit at the thought of him.

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luxe-pauvre · 3 months

Text

Now you’re becoming independent – responsible for your work and how it’s received. This transition from Apprentice to Journeyman entails two pivotal shifts. The first I’ve called ‘It’s not about you’, borrowing a phrase from magicians I’ve worked with. This requires a radical change in your focus of attention, shifting it away from yourself. Expert work involves doing something for someone else. Somewhere, there’s an audience – a person or people who experience what you do – though you don’t always see them directly. That audience may be obvious, as at a concert, a football match or a play. Here, expert and audience share space and time, and the work is synchronous. But in other fields, the audience is not there with you, and your work is asynchronous. When a potter makes a vase in a studio, there may be nobody else watching. But still the potter intends their work to be seen, whether in a shop, an exhibition or a display. Although the making takes place out of view, there is always an audience, even if theoretical, distant or completely unknown. Whether you’re an artist, a scientist, a clinician or a mechanic, this stage involves moving attention away from yourself. It’s the shift ‘from you to them’. ‘Them’ refers to the people who experience your work – your audience, patients or customers. This is a crucial transition, though it doesn’t always happen at the same point on the path to becoming expert. Sometimes it doesn’t happen at all. It’s possible to be technically brilliant but remain focused on yourself; to miss or corrupt the heart of what you are doing. In my profession, the occasional rogue surgeons who carry out unnecessary operations, or experiment without their patients’ consent, are often highly skilled. But they distort their work’s purpose, coming to think it is more about them than their patients. The second shift is Developing voice. I’ve taken this term from the world of jazz, where musicians will create a personalised musical fingerprint. As a performer, you reach a point where you are no longer a cog in someone else’s machine, but a creator of expert work in your own right. As you establish your style, you develop your individuality. Now, you are shaping your work and giving it your signature. You are taking responsibility for being yourself and establishing your own identity. That requires confidence and self-belief. It’s a subtle process, as it needs to develop in parallel with the transition to ‘it’s not about ‘you’ without making you arrogant or self-centred. You need to balance your emerging identity as an expert with a constant awareness of who your work is for. When this succeeds, you establish yourself as an individual, recognisable to those who experience your work. Alongside these two shifts runs Learning to improvise. By now, you are taking responsibility for the successes and failures of your work, and you’re responding to what life throws at you. You may be leading a surgical team, as I was. You may be developing your own research as a scientist, or setting up in business. You may be performing in public, writing a novel or heading up your department. Whatever your field, you’ll be faced with the unexpected, and you’ll have to improvise. When things go wrong, it’s up to you to fix them. At the same time, as a Journeyman, you have freedom. You can develop new ideas, challenge existing methods, put your own stamp on the things you make or do. As we’ll see, some of the most creative leaps come from serendipitous insights that nobody anticipated or planned. Improvisation is a hallmark of becoming expert.

Roger Kneebone, Expert

#Roger Kneebone #Expert

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aziraphales-library · 10 months

Note

do you have a fic where it’s what would have happened if crowley and aziraphale hadn’t met at the garden?

Check our #different first meeting tag for fics like this! Here are some more to add to the collection...

Till death do us part (or not) by fractalgeometry (G)

Possible other titles for this fic, since they summarize it better than I ever could:

Assumed mortality, and other reasons to dump people

In my defense the odds of both of us being immortal is extremely slim

Awkward Tesco reunions: the real curse of immortality

that awkward moment when your ex from 300 years ago turns out to also be immortal

You always meet twice (and sometimes the second time is after 300 years in a fucking tesco and you embarass yourself in front of the cashier)

(Aka the fic in which they are both immortal, they do not realize this, and they break up and think the other is dead for several centuries before it turns out that wait, they're both very much alive after all and also, possibly, walnuts.)

My Immortal Beloved by Fyre (T)

A couple of centuries ago, Crowley had a Thing with an average normal human. Only for some reason, every letter he ever sent to that average normal human has just turned up in a museum exhibit. Including the ones about licking.

HallMark of the Beast by Dee_Morris (T)

Fast-living demon Crowley has had enough of city life and moved to the quiet little town of Tadfield with his young ward, The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast That is Called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness. It seems like the perfect place to relax and lay low, avoiding eye contact with the forces of Hell while also fulfilling the letter of his contract, which is to educate the Adversary on his Great Destiny. And the Christmas decorations are lovely. Life gets less relaxing when he meets Aziraphale, a semiretired angel who has been living in Tadfield and awaiting the arrival of the Antichrist for several centuries. Sparks fly when the two meet and realize that they have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices.

The Great Pretender or A Man with (at least two) Secrets by Makkoska (E)

The demon Crowley is seeing Mr Fell, a peculiar and fascinating bookshop owner. He knows the man has secrets, but doesn’t quite realize the extent of them. Or: It’s London, the 21st century. An ethereal and an occult creature meet and fall in love without realizing they are missing essential information about the other.

Shifting Heaven and Earth by BuggreAlleThis (T)

For most of history, since he narrowly avoiding Falling from Heaven with Lucifer, Crowley has been working for the Angelic Corruption Unit. This ended up being far more boring than he hoped it would be, but things change when he is assigned to go undercover on Earth. His mission is to investigate Aziraphale, an infamous angel who has been on Earth since its Creation, and whom Heaven is sure is guilty of corruption or dereliction of duty. He soon discovers that life on Earth is far more complicated than he'd been led to imagine, especially when Aziraphale's demonic counterpart, Hastur, arrives on the scene.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #different first meeting #mistaken for human #mod d #mistaken identity

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voidscreamintheories · 1 month

Text

The (Not-so-)Big four

Spoilers for the first arc of Hunter the Parenting

Right so: Hunter the Parenting was started after the end of If the Emperor had a text-to-speech device, a parody of Warhammer 40K. There is DNA from that 40K lineage in the show, namely in the D family which I will talk about in another post. But as any fan of Warhammer, upon seeing a group of four antagonists I must immediately question if they are the four Chaos gods. Now before getting into this it is important to note that the gods of Chaos are already a lil flexible in their definitions, so it could be real easy to mold anything you want to fit them. They fit well with the four horsemen of the apocalypse, for example However, I am still going to fit these funni bois into funni molds, because it's fun.

Shitbeard: He is violent, quick to anger, one of the two oldest, and he was embraced in association with the "Bikers for Blood" donation drive. It's Khorne, he's Khorne. Now of course, vampires also have a thing for blood, but I feel calling it out specifically with shitbeard COULD be a nod to the good ole "blood for the blood god". Getting into some deep lore here: Clan Brujah used to be known as Warrior Scholars, before their clan devolved into violent rabble rousers. This actually fits with some depictions of Khorne worship, where they are noble and strong warriors who eventually slip into being raving madmen. Of note as well is which member of the group he dislikes the most fits with Khorne, becaaaaaaaause

Ape: Ape and Shitbeard don't get along. Ape is the youngest of the group. Ape is constantly mentioning his hunger and it's called out that he has been "overfeeding" which Ape retorts that there's no such thing. Ape is Slaanesh. Now it's missing a few hallmarks of The Prince of Pleasure, but I think that's partly because of time constraints and partly because of the tone they were going for (I am happy that Ape wasn't humping the walls or snorting coke every other scene). Also, Ape's weapon of choice was his claws, and that's very in line with Tabletop Slaanesh.

Kevin: He's a wizard, it's Tzeentch. But more than that, we saw Kevin had schemes and ambitions to overthrow both the regent and Pyotr, very fitting for him as schemey old Tzeentch. Also, Kevin's tendency to still try fitting in with regular society does match up with the insidious infiltration of society of Tzeentch. Relatedly, while Big D seems to want Kevin as his Sigilite (Malcador best bro), this might end up backfiring. As we saw in the ad break of episode 4, D is feeding Kevin. If Kevin still has ambition and treachery as his domains, there's a non-zero chance that Big D may be betrayed.

Now, finally, which member of the sabbat did Kevin have the most beef with?

Pyotr: Process of elimination here, Pyotr is stinking old Nurgle. Now, nurgle is often depicted as big and round, obviously RIDDLED with disease, and jolly. How can Pyotr fit those themes? I think it has more to do with his clan association. The Nosferatu are a clan of UGLY vamps, who use vermin as spies, and are shockingly resilient and strong for their appearance, all very nurgly. As well, one of the most common reasons a Nosferatu will embrace someone is because the target is really pretty, the Nosferatu resenting beauty and wanting to curse them with the same ugliness. In much the same way Nurgle loves corrupting the beautiful for the sake of corruption (see the garden, his kidnapping of Isha). Based on the photo of Pyotr, we can see he was a handsome kine, I think it fits that he was turned for being too pretty. As a final note on the pretty thing, the fact that Nosferatu start seeing their own ugliness as being attractive (see "you're a goddamn tease loverboy"), that fits with Nurgle's embracing of decay and rot. Now one thing Pyotr MIGHT fit as Nurgle on his own is his stealthing ability. It's not always mentioned, but it's not uncommon for Nurgle worshippers to have a miasma around them which they use to conceal themselves. As a final point, Pyotr's speech about inevitability and futility is pretty fitting for Nurgle's embracing of entropy.

The group as a whole: Woah Chaos undivided, woooooo. But really, as a group they do work as the Pantheon. They all hate each other and scheme against one another, but will work together for their collective goal. When Markus let them fight, and Pyotr ate the other two, this would match with a long standing concept in Warhammer that once one of the gods got the upper hand, it would spell disaster for humanity (here represented by the hunters). As well Kevin seems depressed and almost listless without the other three around, could be because as much as they hate each other, the gods do need their opponents to enjoy the Great Game.

#h:tp #htp #hunter the parenting #hunter: the parenting #fan theory #theories #warhammer 40k

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autismserenity · 5 months

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'Self-silencing': For Palestinians, talking about Hamas comes with hazards

"Nothing about us without us." Everyone knows you can't support and advocate for an oppressed group without listening to it. But we rarely notice how effectively Hamas drowns out Palestinian voices.

It has a long history of imprisoning journalists who even mention criticism of it, as well as civilians who so much as oppose it on social media.

This USA TODAY article from Nov. 21, 2023, is the first thing I've seen that talks directly to and about people living in Gaza. I've pasted most of it below; I cut out some parts that seemed pretty well-known, to try to make it less of a massive wall of text.

Long before Hamas's murderous rampage in Israel on Oct. 7, the group made a name for itself with its ruthless takeover of Gaza in 2007.

Its calling card? Killing its political rivals execution style in the streets, in hospital shootouts, and by throwing them off the rooftops of high-rise buildings. Since then, arbitrary detention, torture and enforced disappearances has been a hallmark of the regime.

Yet now, some Palestinians are "self-silencing" how they really view Hamas − and what they reveal about living under the U.S. and European Union-designated terror group in the Gaza Strip.

And according to more than a dozen Palestinians inside and outside Gaza interviewed for this story, being candid about what they truly think about Hamas is more fraught than ever.

Gazans fear retribution from Hamas; they fear Israel's bombings, too

Fear of reprisals is part of it.

But they are more concerned that doing so could detract from highlighting Israel's relentless bombings − its response to the Oct. 7 Hamas attack − in the seaside enclave that have pulverized civilian infrastructure and caused mass Palestinian casualties.

For the last 17 years, Hamas − whose 1988 founding charter [cites the Protocols of the Elders of Zion in claiming Jews are behind the media, the drug trade, WWI, WWII, and are trying to take over the world, and so] called for the destruction of Israel to make way for a Palestinian state − has been accused by western governments, human rights organizations and some Palestinians in Gaza of corruption, restricting freedom of expression, and other abuses.

Still, as Lara Friedman, president of the U.S.-based Foundation for Middle East Peace, which advocates for rapprochement between Israelis and Palestinians, recently pointed out, Hamas won a parliamentary majority in what turned out to be Gaza's last election − in 2006 − not on an incendiary platform to "kill the Jews," but as the "party of change & reform."

After years of rule by Palestinian leader Mahmoud Abbas' widely unpopular and potentially corrupt Fatah party, "a vote for Hamas was a vote against Fatah," she said. Fatah and Abbas, with whom Hamas fought a short civil war after the 2006 vote, still control the West Bank, the other Palestinian territory.

Surveys show most Gazans before Oct. 7 Hamas attacks favored a peace deal with Israel

Most people in Gaza, where roughly half the 2.2 million population are under 18, were either not yet born or children the last time there was an opportunity to express a political will.

And while some hardline pro-Israel voices have branded all Gazans as supporters of Hamas, surveys taken before the war showed that most Gazans had a poor opinion of how Hamas handled things they valued the most: access to food, education, healthcare, living conditions, and jobs.

These surveys, conducted by Arab Barometer, a non-partisan network of U.S.-based researchers working with local partners across the West Bank and Gaza, revealed that the majority of Gazans − 68% − believed that they had no way to safely participate in peaceful protests against Hamas' rule.

They were also more likely to blame Hamas leadership than Israel for material shortages in their lives despite a nearly two-decade blockade from Israel and Egypt that has affected every aspect of life for Palestinians in Gaza − from where they can live and study, to where they can travel and what health care they can access. Israel and Egypt say the blockade is necessary to prevent Hamas and other enemies from smuggling weapons into Gaza.

Some 73% of Gazans, according to the Arab Barometer survey, favored a peace deal with Israel.

Most Gazans 'just want to be able to do their jobs'. But support for Oct. 7 attacks has grown.

"Basically (most Gazans) just want to be able to do their job and have enough money to spend time with their family," said Michael Robbins, one of the authors of the survey along with Amaney Jamal, a professor of international affairs at Princeton and Stanford.

Robbins added that the survey showed that there was a correlation between Hamas supporters − who support armed resistance to Israel − and Gazans who were better off financially.

"You can think of that as some of the (Hamas) corruption issues, access to food and money and other things from the government itself. ... (Hamas) rewarding its own people," he said.[...]

Rahman said that Hamas runs Gaza like its own "personal fiefdom" and that Palestinians there have "no say, no agency over Hamas decision-making at a governmental level, at a political level, at a strategic level in terms of its engagement or resistance against Israel."[...]

Fights in bread lines, despair in shelters, and Hamas extorting money from Gazans

As Gaza has become more cut off from the outside world and aid agencies have warned its on the verge of collapse, there have been rare public shows of discontent in Gaza with Hamas.

Fights have broken out in lines at bakeries, while waiting for water and in overcrowded shelters. There have been reports of outbursts and insults shouted at Hamas officials.

Before the war, Israeli media published stories of Gazans who had fled the enclave because of threats they faced from Hamas for participating in protests, because they didn't support its approach to Israel or for challenging the way it spent financing from Qatar on rockets and tunnels rather than schools or other infrastructure.

A Gazan worker USA TODAY met in the West Bank last month said that he was not able to return home because Hamas officials were trying to extort money from him.

Seven weeks into the war, more than half of Gaza's population has been displaced. Gazan officials say that more than 50% of housing units in the territory have been destroyed, damaged or left completely uninhabitable since Oct. 7. The U.N. says water is running low and starvation is a real risk. Reports say scabies, a skin infection caused by mites; diarrhea; and respiratory infections are spreading quickly.[...]

Hamas says it 'will do it again and again'

According to Ghazi Hamad, a senior member of Hamas, the attack on Israel the group engineered on Oct. 7 was about "teaching Israel a lesson" and it "will do it again and again."

"We are the victims of the occupation. Period," Hamad said in an interview with Lebanese TV channel LBC on Oct. 24. ''Therefore, nobody should blame us for the things we do."

But many Palestinians do blame Hamas for some things.

I'm not Hamas, and I will never be

"After Oct. 7 we all in Gaza have been (accused of being) Hamas supporters. In fact, I am not. And I will never be," said Tareq Hajjaj, a Gazan journalist, in rare public comments about Hamas.

Hajjaj said he knows many Gazans with strong feelings about Hamas who won't speak publicly about it.

One Palestinian, a women's rights advocate, said that in Gaza she has "always been in opposition with Hamas." She said that because she has called for gender equality, freedom of speech and is opposed to girls under 18 getting married this made her a target for Hamas and other militant Islamist groups in Gaza. She said she had written books about these topics, briefly used in schools and by social workers in Gaza, but they had since been withdrawn by the authorities.

LGBTQ communities in both Gaza and the West Bank face threats, repression and violence from Hamas and Fatah authorities.

'Hamas used to attack me because they were against feminist organizations'

"Hamas used to (verbally) attack me all the time, because they are against feminist organizations and they think, or don't just think, they claim that we (the women's rights organization she works for) are funded by the West to ruin the Palestinian society," she said.

But she said she never felt physically threatened by Hamas. Her frustration was more at not being able to promote ideas − human rights − that allow people to live in dignity and with equality.

For others, especially foreign visitors to Gaza, Hamas is an enigma.

One American who runs a large aid organization that has been involved in building infrastructure projects in Gaza said he's always struggled, before Oct. 7, to account for how "normal" every day life in Hamas-run Gaza can appear.

He didn't want his identity published because of his ongoing work in Gaza.

'It was shockingly comfortable'

"In terms of security and comfort, I would say to people all the time it was 'shockingly comfortable.' I would say, literally and honestly, that it felt more dangerous (and likely) in my (U.S.) neighborhood that you'd get shot with a stray bullet than in Gaza. I would walk from the hotel to a fish restaurant down the block, or a few blocks away, and think: 'You know, it'd be nicer if there were some better sidewalks and nicer lighting, but I don't actually feel scared.'"

The American aid worker said he recognized his impressions of Gaza may reflect his visits as a foreigner rather than some deeper truth about what life is like. More than 80% of Gaza's population lives in poverty, according to the U.N.

And while Hamas has received hundreds of millions of dollars in humanitarian aid and cash injections from Iran, Qatar and others, Israel, experts and western governments have questioned whether money meant for civilian use ends up used by Hamas for its military operations.

#gaza #gazaunderattack #palestine #israel hamas war #hamas is isis #wall of words

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