#born to fuck shit up have you ever read a piece of media that completely rewired your brain chemistry

[mazojo]

“I wanted to go to school. I know other kids complain about it, but it always felt so normal, and I’ve never gotten… Normal. I wanted to travel. I wanted friends. I wanted to have a pet one day, a dog. I wanted to host a party, like a sleepover or a costume party or something. And I wanted to fall in love, the kind from the sort of stories my family never told"

#born to fuck shit up have you ever read a piece of media that completely rewired your brain chemistry #this is me. I am bitches. I didn't say bitches but its me nonetheless I am losing it. #hall have no idea how many all of us villains posts I have on my drafts like there's #4 of us in the tags and I am gonna spam so much shit bc I cope with humor #anyways can y'all tell Hendry Lowe is like !!!!! the love of my life !!!! aha!!!!!!!!!! #hendry #all of our demise spoilers #all of our demise #all of us villains #book

[botanybulbasaur]

Schneider's family ; The significance of Marian

REVERSE 1999 SPOILERS AHEAD : FOR CHAPTERS 1 AND 2 ! Please tread carefully and make sure you only read about what you're willing to know.

I know we're all still completely in shambles from Chap. 2, but I wanted to make a speculation about Schneider-- and a comment about how well she's written !

Let me start with this: In many pieces of media, viewers, listeners and readers alike are told that a character has people they care for. They're told a character has a lover, a wife, kids, a family, a sister. We're told the same about Schneider: that she has 11 older siblings, and that she works in the mafia to support them.

However, it's very rarely that we're given a name and a face for these supposed loved ones. And even rarer is it that they're written well, not just as a ploy for empathy, but as their own character: Ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed guests: I present to you, Marian.

Marian is one of my favorite characters just as a stand-alone: she's realistic, she's anxious, she clings to Schneider like a lifeline-- but she's brave, too. I'd love to do an in-depth analysis on her another time, but we're here for another reason.

Marian, first of all, shows us what Schneider's family is like. How they were raised, what they believe in, who they depend on. Soft topic, I know, but as someone of Italian lineage, it's very important to me that I point this out: Marian is extremely religious.

Immigrants of every kind tend to be religious. It gives them much more faith than they ever could have: a new lifeline. They managed to make it across such a winding sea? Oh, thank the lord. They haven't been kicked out of the Americas for emigration? Thank you, holy one. There's so many more reasons for this than "they need something they don't have"- maybe the fact that the rendition of god in every religion is said to love everybody, not just those who were born into wealthy families with the bluest eyes and the blondest hair.

When in a moment with no reason, and all different kinds of desperate measures being needed.. Schneider does what her family coaxes her to. She prays.

(I can't find a screenshot, but please refer to the iconic "I didn't know you prayed" scene, and the screenshot directly below this sentence.)

I also want to point out a large difference between Schneider and her family: Schneider's perspective on a 'god' differs so, so much from her family's.

She looks to whoever may be above, in her world, scornfully-- at least, in the present day. In her past, there is a particularly impactful line I want to debunk.

"The god there ... loves the world." Schnider's family seems to believe that god was the one guiding them, the one who will forgive them-- Schneider believed that it was a whole different entity. This kid believes that the god in Sicily, whoever they may be, does not love the world-- and mio dio, if that's not fucked up, I don't know what is.

And, when Schneider comes to America and sees that shit isn't as it's cut off to be, she's resentful of whoever this god may be. She gives a pray as her last bet-- what her family wants.

And it's not that she doesn't believe in this god-- no. She just doesn't believe they love her.

"Finally forgive me" -- Finally being the key word here. She's lived all her life never being treated to mercy or being 'forgiven for her sins' -- and at her most fragile, exposed moment, she relents to what her family has taught her. To what she truly believes-- to Sicily, to Marian, her sorella. Maybe even all 11 sorelle and her parents.

And, again, they're different at face value. Marian is calm, kind. She dresses modest and has her hair grown out: she's timid, too, not befitting of a mafia boss. She's different from her younger sister.. but she's still important. She shows us another side of Schneider: and, more importantly, she shows us what-- no, who Schneider is fighting for.

Marian provides us with extremely beneficial background context of where Schneider comes from-- and, in that process, gives many of us someone to empathize with. Yes, I too know somebody at least a little like her. You do too, likely.

Maybe, you're even like Schneider-- maybe she's someone you'd aim to protect.

,,aaand that's the little lore rant. Whew! Now to study for my math finals. I hope you have a good day :)

#reverse 1999 #schneider greco #schneider reverse 1999 #schneider #lore #hello internet #welcome to #game theory #hahaha this is so stupid #never let me talk about schneiders family ever again or im dumping the italian bloodline lore #certified pasta muncher schneider speculation #yelena my beloved #yelena greco #yea that's her real name #god reverse 1999 makes me sick #/pos? maybe?? #also i love ms z so so so so so so much #my skurnrkly doo #the silly #thats it #CLASSIC BLUNDER SCHNEIDER #CLASSIC BLUNDER

[princessofprocrastination]

Just A Bet (GeorgeNotFound)

MASTERLIST

pairing : georgenotfound / george x reader - dreamwastaken/dream / clay x reader

summary : you’re just a bet to him. that is, until he realizes that you’re someone with a title. he scrambles to pick up your broken pieces, but he doesn’t realise that he’s too late. (angst) (trigger warning) (happy ending)

a/n : here’s sorta a little AU for you guys, don’t take any of this seriously, some things in this are clearly made up. side note ; holy shit i have more than a 100 followers right now. thank you so so much. 

everyone has probably dreamt of being a princess, a real one. for example, when the movie ‘the princess diaries’ came out, people wanted to be mia thermopolis and rule genovia. 

sounds like a dream, that is, to be going to high school and have plenty of paparazzi’s chasing you, or to be able to be recognized everywhere. 

in reality, it is the complete opposite of living the dream. you could barely walk out without being recognized if you didn’t cover up your face in some way. you were restricted to do many things, even to just hang out with your friends to grab lunch. 

to other people, they might just tell you to suck it up, that in the end of the day, you’re royalty, and that these are only tiny problems. 

you agreed, sure. but you did want to smell the fresh flowers outside. you wanted to be able to get food from wherever, with whoever without people’s prying eyes. 

you just wanted freedom. 

to whom might be reading this might be confused. you’re a princess. just like the movie, yes. princess of saudi arabia, you are. 

you are fairly young, still in your twenties. most people your age are out having fun going on a girls night, or still studying for their degrees, or even working right now. 

but you were prohibited to leave the castle. you were told to leave on the queen’s orders, only during meal times.

some days, you really liked it, being a princess. if you weren’t being egoistical, you would say that your face really did suit the royal title. 

you didn’t have to leave your room to make stacks of money. but the problem with that was, what would you do with the money if you couldn’t leave the house?

so you went on the internet. you settled on the internet. with the queen’s permission, of course. 

sure, she can be strict like all the time, but she tried her best to give you your freedom. so she let you have social media accounts. you being you, the public immediately found your accounts. 

you couldn’t find new friends, they were too scared to come across you. so you just entertained yourself. 

this isn’t bragging, but a lot of people knew who you were, but that doesn’t mean everyone does.

since you barely had a childhood, with being born and raised royal, you entertained yourself watching minecraft youtubers. for some reason, it calmed you. 

dream team, as you called the group, caught your eye. you watched all of their videos, caught up with every single live streams of theirs, even followed their instagrams and twitters. 

one morning, when you woke up, you found your instagram notifications fuller than other days. you were fairly confused. that is, until you realised that the whole of dream team had followed you back. 

they definitely know who you are and what you do now, right? they have a large fanbase, surely, they would’ve told the boys. 

your followers, since seeing the boys follow you, have told you to start playing games. you didn’t disappoint them. you asked your parents if you could and they granted you permission to do whatever you wanted. 

they told you “this would entertain the public and love you even more.” and smiled at you. you thought maybe they hit themselves in the head today with the leniency they gave you. but you pushed that thought. maybe they thought you have grown old enough. 

valkyrae, a streamer on twitch had reached out to you after knowing about your gaming desires. she asked if you wanted to join her and her group to play among us together. 

you almost immediately agreed and the rest of her friends welcomed you in with opened arms. 

your mum gave you one condition, that you had to follow in order to film yourself playing games. that is, if you kept yourself poised and respectable. you agreed to her shenanigans and started to play with rae. 

playing with her meant that you met countless different content creators, such as corpse husband and pokimane. they all were super nice to you, even when you had told them that they didn’t have to be nice to you because of your title. 

soon you had found yourself in an amazing group of friends and you felt great about yourself. 

you and rae had sustained such amazing friendship that she had came over to your house multiple times for meals. 

you’d text her “come over to my house, let’s eat lunch.” 

and she’d reply with “your castle you mean?” she jokes around. 

your friendship was loved by many people out there. 

one thing you didn’t say was that not everyone was obligated to know who you are, which then happens to be funny to see when they did end up finding out who you are. 

just the fact that they show such shock to their faces, and the tone in their voice changes. 

“holy fuck, she’s royal.” toast says as he came back from googling your name to know more about how you came about in a game of among us. 

“i’m so sorry for the past rounds.” he apologizes for the time he accuses you for no reason.

“please treat me the same way you used to, i’m just y/n when i’m playing games, definitely not a princess.” you told him. 

you didn’t have a big ego, although your parents did. “they need to know that you’re important.” they told you, but it never stuck to you. you wanted to be respected as a person, for your personalities, not because of a stupid title you were born in. 

sykkuno, rae and you had decided to make an smp, where you three would start building things for fun and stream it. 

you three had enough fun until it got boring, for you to start asking your other friends to join. the first person you offered to tour your little world was corpse since you and him had clicked so well. 

because you started playing minecraft and streaming it, it got the attention of minecraft youtubers. and for some reason, the seventeen year old, tommyinnit had found you interesting enough to talk to you. 

with tommy being that close to you, you attracted tubbo and wilbur soot, as well.

“i am in a vc with a princess.” tommy had said on stream when you two decided to play minecraft along with tubbo and wilbur. 

sure, the teenage boy got a little annoying at times, but you found it entertaining and funny. of course, tommy being tommy, he’d ask slightly personal questions about how royalty works in saudi arabia. 

not that he knew how royalty works in general, anyways. 

“the queen is still my favourite woman, but you come in close second.” he told you once. you laughed at that. 

no big title could stop you from fangirling the moment the man, dream itself had sent you a donation, and then later sending you a direct message. 

“let’s play minecraft together soon, seen me your discord.” he dmed you one day. of course you complied. 

for some reason, you never had the chance to play with george, and you played minecraft with sapnap and dream separately, never together. not that you were complaining. 

you decided on a more chill and laid back stream on that specific day, not really feeling like going on a minecraft server or play among us with your bestfriends when you got a text from an unknown number. 

hey. they sent

who’s this? you sent a text back.

my bad, this is george. they sent a text back to you.

holy shit. why would george text you. sure, you have played minecraft and among us with him sometimes but he isn’t one to give out his number so this was weird to you. 

although you consider to be close to the entirety to the dream team, you often tried to avoid texting them, especially outside of streaming. you didn’t want it to be awkward or tense. 

surprisingly, as your conversation with george lengthened, it became less and less awkward. the more you two texted, the more you felt like you and him had been friends for the longest time. 

being the princess, raised in a castle meant that you didn’t really have a social life. other than being put together with some prince of another country in hopes you’ll fall in love with them or marry them, you haven’t really had a legitimate boyfriend. not even a crush. 

to you, the princes in the world can be arrogant, snobby. they act like they are the most important thing in the world, that if they walk in a restaurant, everyone was to drop all their work for other people to entertain them. 

sure, this could just be the way that they were raised, but you didn’t want that in a man, a husband. it wouldn’t kill to be a little humble. 

princes are also a bore. they live practically the same lifestyle as you. conversations were never interesting, always the usual. 

to summarise this, since you and george have been talking and texting, you had fallen for him. hard. and it seems like he’s feeling the same way, just that the both of you hadn’t really said anything. 

-

DREAM’S POV

being really close friends with someone, more than one person, bestfriends, that is, meant that we had a group chat together. 

nothing constructive was ever said, only boys being boys. 

nick was the one to bring it up. and since he is the youngest, he sure does say some stupid things. 

dude, you should try to get in y/n’s pants. nick asked george in the groupchat.

there was a running joke between the nick and i. george lives under a rock, basically. when everyone was walking on eggshells around you, trying not to offend a princess, he never really cared. 

and that was when nick and i found out that george had no clue you held such a title on your pretty little head. 

you are a beautiful girl, no doubting that. i was sure that many people, even before you started streaming had a major crush on you. george definitely fits right in. he was practically vomiting hearts when he first saw you. 

it was meant to be funny. it was never meant to go this far. nick didn’t mean for his little bet to break a heart, let alone a princess. 

but he did. well, technically george did. he was so brutal with it. he toyed with your feelings, like he had no care in this world. 

no one would’ve guessed that the little cute, short george would do something as bad as he did. 

and now, no one can find you. no one. 

you were there, smiling in front of your camera one day and you were gone the other. just gone. no one knew where you went. 

granted, you are royal. it must not be hard to get people to hide you. but at the same time, you had major reporters trying to find you. and they couldn’t. what does that leave us? 

where did you go? 

come back. 

and although i know you want to hear this from george instead of his friends, you won’t. because he probably doesn’t.

we miss you. 

please just text us, we need to know you’re safe. 

-

YOUR POV

you left. you had to. it had been extremely humiliating. 

you didn’t think someone as sweet as george would do that, it all happened so quick. 

you had flown to england to meet him. he encouraged you to. it felt amazing to leave your hometown, you’ve lived there all your life. you definitely needed to fresh air. 

it took a lot of convincing your parents to let you fly to england. without a doubt, you knew that the only way you’ll get to leave is if you had a guard with you. 

this isn’t that kind of cliche story, your guard could literally be your dad, get your head out of the gutter, you are utterly in love with george, and you were sure george knew that and that’s why he encouraged you to fly to him. 

the first couple of days were fun. he brought you to all over brighton for you to experience what it’s like in england. he told you he wanted you to get your first real experience as a tourist, and that was what he did. 

winding down for the night, you brought him to relax in your hotel suite. frankly, george was surprised that you could afford such a place. but he didn’t want to ask where you got the money from, he didn’t really care. 

all he wanted to do was to complete his dare. his ego was too big to lose this time. 

that night was when you decided to tell him about your feelings about him. you were pretty confident that it was going to go smooth sailing. just the way he treated you showed so much about his feelings. 

so you did, you told him. while you told him that you love him, more than friends love each other, he looked you in the eyes. you weren’t sure what that meant. 

but he smiled. or smirked, you weren’t sure. 

and he kissed you. and the night didn’t end with you just kissing. 

so you thought the night was amazing, that it couldn’t get any better than that. 

that was, until you woke up the next morning. 

-

you woke up, sun shining straight into your suite, curtains wide open. 

although you didn’t really feel the presence of another person in the room with you, you brushed it off. you felt like something was off, that something was missing. 

you rolled over in your hotel bed, to see if the british man was laying next to you. 

he wasn’t. in fact, he was not in the hotel room at all. you checked the bathroom, the small little living room in your suite. he was found nowhere. 

you tried to see if he had left traces of himself in your hotel room, a sign that he was indeed there and that you hadn’t been dreaming it all. 

but the pain between your legs caused by the brit told you that it was all not a dream. 

so you did what a logical person would, text him. maybe he left to get food. 

but you knew that wasn’t the case the moment you had unlocked your phone. 

texts flood in, your social media notifications seemed to not be stopping anytime soon. 

you opened your texts messages. a couple from your parents, a lot from rae, multiple from some minecraft youtubers who you called friends. 

besides your parents, they were asking if you were okay. they were telling you to stay safe and to lay off social media for a while. 

your parents were practically screaming at you through texts. they called you a disgrace, not an honour to the family. you didn’t understand where this was coming from. 

you opened twitter, knowing that it was going to be the easiest way for you to find out what had happened, and why were you involved in it. 

you were trending. number one worldwide. you clicked on your name. your phone left your hand, falling hard to your hotel floor with a loud thud as you covered your mouth with both your hands, crying. 

two pictures. two photos that said it all. 

first photo was of you in bed, obviously naked under the hotel duvet. you were still sleeping. there was light coming from the windows, that showed that it had barely been sunrise when it was taken. 

second photo was what hit you the hardest. you wanted the earth to swallow you from below. it was a photo of your back, very naked back. it was clear that it was a photo that had been taken during sex. 

and it was obvious who you had it with, because he was the one who posted it all over twitter. 

george. 

that was why he left, with no traces of him ever being in the hotel room. 

you weren’t sure what was his motive. but you sure did know that he had completely broke you. 

crying, you picked up your phone from the floor, calling rae. 

“oh my god, tell me you’re okay.” she was panicking on the phone.

“i need to leave.” you told her. you knew that she would immediately understand the severity of the four words you told her. 

since then, you never came back. to the eyes of public, it was as if you never even existed. you were gone. 

-

you moved with rae. 

she had to leave her roommates to settle in with you. her roommates weren’t mad at her for leaving them. they completely understood, you needed the help.

although her roommates wanted to help you, they couldn’t. you needed to have the least amount of people to be with you. 

it didn’t help that they were all content creators, too. 

rae told people that she moved because she wanted her own space, so that she can make better videos. when she announced she was moving, not one person speculated that you had been the reason of her move. 

you paid for the house, you needed to. you owed her. no matter the amount of times she told you that you owed her nothing, that she was just doing it because she loves you, you couldn’t let her pay for a single thing. 

you needed to up your security, too. so you two had decided to get a house that was pretty big, somewhere in the mountains, with top security, away from other people. 

your parents soon calmed down after that day. they told you to come back, the begged you to come back. but you told them that you needed the time alone at that moment, and assured them that you would be okay. 

so they did what parents would. they made sure you were well taken care of. they sent you massive amounts of money, sent your their trusted guards to stay around the house. 

they did this all for you without the knowledge of the public. 

your parents told reporters that you were well safe, and would not be in the public eye, not until you were ready. 

you helped rae film certain videos. well, not like there was anything good to do in the massive mansion, anyways. 

all your social media pages were still up, just not updated. you left everything. you had created a more private one, for your close and trusted friends to follow. 

and you thought that nothing could really top that eventful day in england. 

but it did. 

you’re sat on toilet in on of the bathrooms, rae rubbing your back.

pregnant. it was clearly written on the test.

no fucking way. 

-

in no ways were you ready to be a mother. 

as a little kid, you had dreamt of being a mum, alongside a successful man who took responsibility. 

you never would have seen yourself to be a mother alone, with the help of your bestfriend. 

you never thought that you would be a mother, whose dad is someone who clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you. 

rae stayed with you all the time. even through the gross vomit sessions in the morning, or all the time, in your case. 

but you were in no way shape or form ready for a child. you had to raise a child on your own. even the thought of that had emotionally drained you. 

weeks after you found out you were pregnant, you were significantly getting more moody, and rae knew that. 

she made sure you ate well, slept well and kept up with eating vitamins each day. that was until, you couldn’t take it all anymore. 

maybe it was the stress. well, it was the stress. 

you blamed it all on the emotional toll the pregnancy took on you. your body was practically screaming for help. help that you need, but you weren’t in the right head space to offer the help to yourself. 

it was a typically normal day for rae and you. besides rae screaming in her gaming room while streaming, it had been pretty quiet. 

you felt queasy, but you pushed it off. it was normal for you nowadays. everything almost made you throw up. the look of something, the smell. 

but on that day, it was a different type of feeling in your stomach.

one second, you were walking into the kitchen, trying to get some water, and the other, you were on the floor, in pain. 

you screamed. this was the worst type of pain you’ve felt in your life. you screamed for anyone who could hear you. you were sure that even rae’s stream could hear you, but you didn’t care. 

soon you heard multiple footsteps. one of your guards came to your aid before rae did. he supported your head on his lap, him sitting on the floor. 

he told the other guard who came soon after he did to call the ambulance. 

that was when you finally found out what was happening. 

“holy shit, she’s bleeding.” rae repeated to herself. 

you were bleeding? that wasn’t good, right? that meant bad things, doesn’t it?

you felt like you were floating, like your limbs were as light as a feather. that was because you were losing consciousness. 

you lost it. you lost it and found out it was a boy. 

now the two boys you love more than your life aren’t here with you, forever. 

you cried for weeks, rae next to you, making sure you were still alive and eating. she was the only one that stayed by your side in real life. sure, your online friends did care about you, but they just couldn’t be there with you. 

clay and nick had always been texting you, sometimes calling to try their luck, clay mostly. you knew they cared about you, and they wanted to make sure that you’re okay. but you felt embarrassed. you didn’t want to face anyone, even if people kept saying that you did nothing wrong. 

apparently rae’s stream heard your scream, and that was how rae found out that you were in danger. she couldn’t hear through her headphones, but her chat kept spamming her about it, and that raised alarms. 

they kept asking about the ‘mysterious girl screaming’ in rae’s stream. it was short lived, though. rae told them that she had a friend over and that they were injured, and that rested the chaos for a little. 

you were sure that some people knew you were living with her. most of them were almost like detectives, after all. 

you didn’t blame the stans. it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that you would live with her, anyways. 

since the awful day at the hospital, you have texted clay and nick. you wanted to tell them that you were okay, that you aren’t hurt, at least not physically anymore. 

it didn’t take you long to start calling clay daily again. other than rae, you didn’t really have anyone. so you told clay. 

it felt weird talking about a baby that used to be in you to someone whose bestfriend was the dad of. but he completely understood you. sure, he couldn’t say for experience, seeing as he clearly can’t get pregnant, but he supported you, made sure you let it all out to him. 

you and clay grew close, almost bestfriends. although you and nick were close, he’s still in college, and that meant that he usually didn’t have time to talk to you as much as clay did, and you didn’t blame him. school can be a pain in the ass.

but you still made sure to never keep nick in the dark. as much as clay is one of your bestfriends, so is nick. 

clay made sure never to talk about george to you, which deemed to be difficult since they had been friends for years. he had accidentally slipped his name out to you a couple times, but you were sure he didn’t meant to do that. 

other than the usual “george has been sleeping like a log” and “he slept through the smp war.” you hadn’t heard anything else about him, but it seemed like he was doing well. 

clay had told you about the bet. 

“nick brought it up, but we didn’t think he was actually going to go through with it.” the floridian said. 

you aren’t the type to hold grudges, not even if they did you really dirty, so you told clay that you were on the path of being fully healthy and that he didn’t need to apologise for his friend’s behaviour. 

“are you ever going to come back?” he asks you in a facetime call. you knew exactly what he was talking about. he wanted to know if you’d ever come back on the internet. 

you didn’t even know the answer yourself. you weren’t sure. so you told him that. 

“maybe, maybe not. who knows.” and that was months ago. 

you had plenty of time to heal, to get back on track. but nothing could top your pain of losing your child, that you never got to hold, to kiss, to spoil. 

telling your mother about the loss of your baby was the hardest. she is a traditional woman, always telling you to get married before bearing children, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love the baby you were carrying in you. 

she cried on the phone, sobbing, hiccupping. you wanted to hug her so bad, she even asked you when you’d come back, but you told her you needed time, but you’d be there soon. 

for some reason, although you got maximum hours of sleep each day, you still felt exhausted. you consulted a doctor, but he told you that it was normal since your body is still fragile, but the exhaustion never really went away as months go by. 

being bored at home, and hearing rae having fun made you feel lonely, it made you feel like you were left out. so you made the decision to come back. not to stream, but to appear in rae’s videos.

rae and the rest of the group welcomed you with open arms. they were caring and made sure you felt comfortable again, not stepping any boundaries. not that you cared, the public was bound to know everything soon enough. 

so you did that. 

you were playing proximity chat among us, with the usual people. at that point, you and the other nine people were still in the lobby, chatting, until corpse sounded out. 

“what have you been doing nowadays?” harmless question, in your opinion. 

you didn’t want to hide anything anymore, and rae knew what was about to happen.

“been having a lot of rest. doctor said that i’m still fragile.” you told corpse. 

“are you sick?” toast asks. some people would’ve been offended at that question, or take it the wrong way, but you didn’t. 

“actually, i suffered a miscarriage recently.” you told them honestly. 

there was no awkward silence. immediately, everyone started apologising, saying “sorry for your loss.” 

you brushed them off, telling them that it’s okay, that they didn’t offend you at all for asking that question. 

“feels good to get it out my chest.” you told them, laughing at the end of that sentence. 

“she hasn’t slept well at all, she really wanted to tell you guys.” rae told her

one by one, they all spoke to you, asked you if it was even okay that you all talked about it on streams. you told them that it had been your choice to tell people this way, and they had nothing to worry about. 

on the other hand, it was tough for george. not at first, though. he thought it was going to be easy, having sex with a pretty, virgin girl and ditch her alone in a country she she hasn’t personally been to.

but that changed the moment she disappeared. the guilt never really hit george until people started bashing him on the internet. 

at first, people were too focused on the girl. people discriminated you, called you a slut. they didn’t think that george was wrong at all, although he was the one who took the explicit photos and posted it. 

but then, people, mostly woman had started to realise indeed how messed up it was. 

george really couldn’t care that you “left.” but then people kept on commenting on his posts. specifically, they often left a comment saying “really bold of you to do that to a princess.”

at the start, he thought the comments meant that they couldn’t believe he did such terrible things to their princess, someone wholesome they cherished. he didn���t realise that his comments literally meant that you are a princess. 

so he googled it. he wanted to know why people kept calling you ‘princess’ or ‘next on the throne’. he was curious, and he wasn’t expecting it all to be real. 

when he googled your name, a huge google tab came out. 

princess of saudi arabia. 

this must be a typo, right? he couldn’t deny that you are indeed a pretty girl, he just couldn’t believe that he had done such things to someone so royal. 

he never even thought that one day, he would score to talk to celebrities, let alone be able to be in bed with an actual princess. 

so he doubted it. 

but then he kept looking. 

he looked at images of you. photos of you with a small tiara, next to what seemed to be the queen of saudi arabia, wearing a long, modest emerald gown. the photo was taken when the king had a birthday. 

picture after picture, he started to doubt his thoughts even more. 

he couldn’t lie, your face really fit the title. if he really thought about it, your existence screamed royalty. the way you spoke, your poise, the way you strut in a hallway and was able to wow a crowd without trying. 

george always assumed that people only stared at you in public because of how beautiful you are. he never really realised it all until now. 

usually, guys can be insecure when they hear rude comments about how a lanky man is able to get a beautiful, confident woman. but to george, he felt even more egoistical. he used you, truly like a trophy wife. 

that was until he really realised. 

now, he thinks that everything he did was just a plain asshole move, not saying it isn’t if he did it to any other normal girl.

“i fucking messed up” he thought to himself, reading press conferences about your princess title.

if he thought he messed up then, wait till he found out you were pregnant, and then later losing it. 

he felt like he was in a fever dream. it felt like a written book, not real life. 

he kept slapping himself, pinching himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. it all felt unreal. so many things were happening. 

now, he’s more concerned than guilty. he wanted to know if you’re okay. even he felt like he can’t cope with the information he was given, how would you feel?

furthermore, he kept reading theories that the scream in the background of valkyrae’s stream was yours. had you lost the baby there? had you lost his baby there?

-

he called clay and nick. he wanted to double check. it was all a lot to handle, knowing you’re a princess and a mother in the same week. 

nick screamed at him on discord for hours, literally. george knew clay was just as mad, just as disappointed. he just didn’t have the energy to say it all, even though all he wanted to do was fly to england and beat george up. 

although it took george a while to realise everything he did was messed up, he came to. and he really did want to contact you. but really, anyone in your position wouldn’t even glance at his name twice after what he did. 

he was happy that you were looking healthy on rae’s stream. although you weren’t really ready to stream on your own again and many people understood that, and never pushed you. 

but whenever he saw you sometimes on rae’s facecam, he could see that pain, deeply hidden in your eyes. you were trying to cover up the fact that you were still trying to heal. 

-

CLAY’S POV

it was infuriating to see george not really giving a shit at first, and then changing to a new man. it took you to tell the world about your lost child for him to own up to his mistakes.

nick and i had been friends with him for years, it takes a lot to just dump a friend, a close one at that. so we did what we could, help him wake up from this “dream” he’s in. 

that didn’t mean we weren’t mad at him still. 

if he didn’t want to own up, i will. 

-

the subsequent years came by and went really quickly. people were starting to forget the drama that you and george were in. people soon became uninterested about it, but still stayed with you, encouraging you to heal slowly and take your time. 

that was what you liked about the internet. granted, some people can be mean, but the people who supported you were the ones that helped you keep going, helped you find a reason to wake up in the morning. 

no, you’d never forget that you lost a child, and you were reminded by the people on the internet who made it a pact to make sure george never forgot that too. 

george did end up talking to you a couple years ago. you accepted his apology, but not him. you were sure he only wanted to apologise after knowing that you were the next in the throne. 

speaking of throne, you were back in the castle. not permanently, but you visited often. you still lived with rae, and you had actually started streaming on your own again a few months before george reached out to you. 

clay and nick had been supportive of you since the start, still clearly apologetic even though you told him that you had forgotten about it and that it hadn’t even been their fault in the first place. 

but they were persistent, clay more than nick since nick was still very busy with college. you loved the two of them and considered them to be one of your best friends, aside from rae. 

-

GEORGE’S POV 

it was difficult. i felt like i had no shame to just text her one day after being gone for so long. but i actually felt bad. i know it was a rocky start. 

i had been so focused on winning the bet and not wanting to be called a pussy from my friends that i disregarded you, your feelings.

i knew from the start that you had been a great girl. you were just so sweet to everyone you meet, even strangers. it warmed my heart, it made me feel safe to be around you all the time. 

not that i can say that right now anyways, i didn’t have the right at all, after what i did to you. 

i don’t know what love is, given the fact that multiple girls had left me before this. i asked myself often if what i felt for my exes were actually love, or had i just been desperate. 

but i felt like when i was with you, it had been love, or close enough. 

but i couldn’t just burst it out one day that i love you, we weren’t really even dating. 

given that you had been pure, prior to me, it was shocking to see you so open, so welcoming to me. it was like you had known me forever, that you trusted me. 

and i took advantage of that, and later i got the consequences. 

i suffered the consequences. i see him with you. and i see that you’re happier with him. if it was any other guy, i think it would hurt less. 

but it was my own best friend. it was clay. 

all the instagram photos you post, his face blurred or covered, or when he posts a photo of you, it all hurt. 

i started the fall for you, for your genuine heart, and when i finally decide to do something about it, someone else had done it before me. 

deep down, i knew that clay would’ve been the better choice for you anyway. but it still hurt me. hearing his voice coming from behind you when you stream without your facecam. 

everyone was so supportive of you and clay, they’re obviously happy that you found someone who treats you better, even i knew that.

i wished i hadn’t taken you for granted, i wish i hadn’t listened to the stupid voice in my head reminding that you were all just a bet, that i wouldn’t love you like you think i would. 

i felt left out. 

a while ago, you were in florida with nick and your boyfriend, clay. it stung to see nick and you streaming so happily, not remembering me. 

but i deserved it. and i knew you deserve to be happy, after everything i did to you.

but that didn’t compare to the pain i felt now, a year later, seeing photos of clay and you, his face turned from the camera, facing you. he was down on one knee, proposing. 

and although you were crying and your hands covered the bottom half of your face, i could see how happy you are, i could see the amount of love you held for clay. 

how i wish i had done things a little more differently. 

#georgenotfound #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound fanfic #georgenotfound imagine #georgenotfound imagines #dream imagine #dream imagines #dreamwastaken imagines

[pynkhues]

.... any succession fic recs? 👀

Yes!! I haven't read a lot for it yet, but some of the stuff I've read has been staggeringly good. I'm generally more into gen fic in this particular fandom, but have enjoyed some Stewy x Kendall, Gerri x Roman and Naomi x Tabitha too.

A few recs under the cut!

“I wanted to get out. From under all this. Take the money and run.”

Kendall tells Stewy even though he knows he’ll never get it, not like Naomi does. He’ll never understand the crush of it, the heart-stopping head-fucking fear of failing a tyrant. Kendall’s been ignoring the shape of it for a long time, putting pieces of it together in the back of his mind in total darkness like a blindfolded man. It doesn’t matter that one day his dad will die. It doesn’t matter about the money or the hostile takeover or the stolen files or any of it. There’s no running. Kendall’s Logan Roy lives inside his head.

Stewy laughs. Stewy laughs for a long time.

“There is no out, Ken, what the fuck are you talking about? You were born this and you’ll die this. You are what you are, and what you are is a fucking Roy.”

Kendall hates him, for a moment. Lightning-strike furious. What the fuck does he know about any of it, about his dad’s swinging dinner plate-sized hands, about getting 24% name recognition in reliable international polling, about puking every time you think about a car swerving off the road in the rain. About finding out that you can do something unthinkably, unimaginably terrible, and it doesn’t matter to anyone you know but you. There’s a scar on his arm that no one else who hasn’t already been told how it got there can ever know about, and he’s sick of it, and it’s not fair. He hates Stewy for a moment because Stewy’s right.

“I wanted to do the right thing, Stewy, for once in my fucking life.”

Stewy laughs again, more briefly, and the predator flash of his eyes in the neon of the motel sign is a torture all its own.

‘There is no right and wrong, Ken. How the fuck do you not know that yet? Not for people like you. Like us. There’s shit you get caught doing and there’s shit you don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You really, really fucking don’t,” says Ken, and fuck, there it is. The road less travelled, that only he has ever driven on. The path he’s down where Stewy can’t follow. That place beyond Stewy Hosseini where he never thought he could go.

“You’re not telling me something, and when I find out what that is, and I will find out what it is, Kendall, don’t you think I won’t, so I am warning you that when I do find out I am going to be righteously fucking pissed,” says Stewy, and if Kendall thought those were a predator’s eyes before—

“Yeah, you will,” says Kendall, because he knows exactly how perceptive Stewy is. Exactly how weak he is. Exactly, precisely what both of them are.

And treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery. 8k words. Kendall x Stewy. Post s2. (CW: internalised homophobia, some homophobic language)

I tried to pick a shorter excerpt, but I literally couldn’t, this fic is so. good. The voices are pitch perfect, and it’s got this incredible build to it overall that goes back and forth between time and point of views and just rips your heart out. The premise itself is pretty simple – after the press conference at the end of 2.10, Kendall calls Stewy, and they drive through rural America while Kendall has a breakdown, and it’s just - - unspeakably good. I love it so so so much, I have no words.

r/roysucks Connor’s gf just posted on Instagram (instagram.com) submitted two months ago by webbedscrum_2279 23 comments share save hide report

[–] DM_ME_SAMESMAIL 40 points two months ago I too like to escape to my yacht in the Mediterranean when my family and I are on trial for covering up rape and murder. permalink embed save report reply

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? By amleth 3k words. Gen fic. Post s2.

And now for something completely different – epistolary fic which is just reddit news threads of the Roy family drama. I love an epistolary fic and this is just totally charming, and made me laugh a lot out loud.

“You’re quiet,” she observes. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, the Turks beat it out of me. Gave you a run for their money.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So what is this? Whips and chains? Are we doing the whole boat-sex thing? I heard Shiv and Tom are looking for a third —“

Gerri finds what she’s looking for: a black leather binder. She drops it on the bed and begins paging through it, and Roman cranes his neck enough to recognize that it’s just full of documents, not like, dick pics. “I’ve given some thought to what you proposed a few weeks ago, and I agree that we should make things official in some way,” she says, and he blinks.

“Uh,” he says. “Which — what part of it?”

“Take a look.”

Gerri closes the folio and hands it over. It’s deceptively heavy, and the print on these pages is way too fucking fine, he thinks, paging through it. “Is this some kind of, like, Fifty Shades of Roy sex contract? Because it’s not that I’m not into it, but I think there’s a strong argument for going paperless —”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t legally binding,” Gerri says. “Just something I threw together with regard to our business arrangement going forward. But with no respect to the family — the past few weeks have really illustrated that no one should take anyone at their word right now. Give me a little more than your word.”

Evacuation strategies for a yacht on fire by devourthemoon. 11k words. Gerri x Roman. Post s2. Explicit.

After the events of s2, Roman and Gerri fake being married as a professional alliance, only, y’know, maybe it’s not so fake. This fic is just so, so much fun, and messy in the best possible way. The author nails all the character voices, and the sex scenes are just the right amount of hot and ridiculous, and I just love it all a lot too.

Kendall estimates it will take an hour for the first articles to go up. Some rapid-fire blog without oversight—the New York Post, maybe, or wherever those Vaulter hippies have skulked off to—will slap a catchy headline on it and report his words verbatim. Give or take a gif of his face when he switches to script number two. New York Times, Washington Post, AP, those fuckers take longer. They like to bleed the story like Middle Ages plague doctors for its marrow, fact-check and add context and analysis and as many backlinks as their servers can handle. Still, a couple of hours, and his face will be plastered on every major news outlet. His voice will play over the nightly talk shows. He’ll trend on Twitter. A few more days, and he’ll be the star of analysis segments, podcasts, weekly briefings. Maybe, fuck it, maybe he’ll trend on Twitter again.

It’s been years since Kendall read Shakespeare. But that shit sticks with you, gets under your skin and emerges when you least expect it, like eczema or Keynesian economics. He knows how the media will spin this. Kendall Roy Attacks CEO Logan for Years of Corruption. Prodigal Son Disrupts Family Legacy to Restore Credibility. That’s how Hamlet ends, right? And Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, even Titus fucking Andronicus. The spilled blood sinks into the ground, the seedlings sprout forth from the soil, and a new castle is built on the bones. Order out of chaos, or at least close enough an approximation that the tabloids will buy it.

Legacy for profit by owlinaminor Post-2.10. Kendall Roy. Kendall through Shakespeare analogies – just - - ooooof. It's a beautiful, lyrical character study that weaves through Roy family history and teases at a future none of them are even sure they want. It's gorgeous writing.

For the next few days Shiv would have to keep the pressure on Kira like an open wound because there were other women, victims that Nate’s people were going to find one by one as soon as that phone call disconnected. Mo was her father’s friend, good friend, for a long, long time. Nate and Gil, Sandy and Stewy, too many sharks in the water and the share price probably dipped to a new low but she would never check a stock ticker. Her husband’s nerves fraying at the edges on national television. She had promised a woman she’d never met before that she would kill roughly one third of the top male executives of her family’s company. Her company.

The last look Rhea gave her before she shut the car door was concern close to fear—no longer the same woman who heard their pitch in the safe room, who laughed with her at Argestes. Rhea had only looked into the abyss; she got cold feet and she didn’t even know what it’s like to grow up in it.

Her family’s company is hers, will be hers. Even from a whale fall, new life would spring.

Feed his flesh to wayward daughters by reogulus. 2k words. Shiv Roy. Set during 2.09.

This entire fic is set around Shiv bribing Kira not to testify, and god, it is so good. It’s bleak and rough, and really hones in on the complex ground Shiv walks as a character. It's another brilliant study of what it takes to be a Roy, and the way they make the awful choices in order to fulfill this legacy that they don't even know they want.

Kendall sets down his fork. “So. Tell me. Is it everything you wanted? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Roman stills. He never does that. He’s constantly a menace in motion, slouching and fidgeting, worse even than Kendall at his amphetamine peak. “What? The view from the tippy-tippy-top?”

“His regard.” Kendall wipes his mouth with the edge of the white cloth napkin. It comes away pink from the steak. “Dad. He’s all yours now.”

Roman still hasn’t moved. Finally, he lurches, like corroded machinery come uncertainly to life. “Yeah, man. It’s fucking tight as hell. I love every beautiful daddy and me moment I was a good enough little boy to earn.” He snorts. “Fuck you.” His face goes curiously slack then, like something Kendall’s own face would do. An intermission in the performance, an energy cut. Something genuine finding its way to the surface. “Why don’t you tell me. When you got everything you wanted, how the fuck did that make you feel?”

Nauseous, is the first word that springs to mind. Sick. Scared. I’ve never had everything I wanted, there’s that. I’ve never once had a single fucking thing I wanted. There’s that, too.

Interim leadership by arbitrarily 2k words. Roman + Kendall. Post s2.

I love Roman and Kendall scenes generally, but this one which features Kendall and Roman meeting for the first time a few months after the press conference in 2.10 is just a bit magic. The push pull dynamic that's just inherent to them mixed with the genuine affection and brotherly love is really special, and arbitrarily embraces both in equal measure. It's a great little fic.

There are lots more of course, and I'd also recommend checking out other works by these authors, but I hope this is a good place to start! :-)

#hbo succession #succession fic #fic recs #welcome to my ama #kendall x stewy #gerri x roman

[king-killaway]

It's hard to talk about how badly this country, (Untied Sates) has brainwashed its citizens without sounding like a conspiracy theory nut or something of the like.

Every single media that's ever been released by a studio with ties to anything with public opinion is completely Pro-USA propaganda.

The best examples of this is any action movie that uses the US military. Movies that require government approval. And I don't mean, "yeah you're good you didn't screw up a couple of facts", I mean a whole damn, "good you paint the US as the good guys and everything else as bad and evil."

News stations that get funding directly from in House politicians or hell even the ex president (I'm looking at you Fox News).

All of it is subtle too. The propaganda begins at an early age here in the "good ol' US of A", reciting the Pledge of Allegiance from kindergarten everyday up until high school. To the very addition of seminary classes in said high schools even though there's supposed to be "Separation of Church and State".

Even simple things such as ad campaigns that bombard you daily to the point you only take in what they're saying subconsciously. Its become such a normal thing to hear about the newest model of the iPhone that you don't even realize they make them to break in a year or two, just to extort you of your money.

Its fabricated into the very veins of this country that if you "just work hard enough" you can do anything, be anyone. Lies. It's all lies intentionally written to make you feel guilty about being "lazy" because you're not successful, when in reality if you're born poor you'll likely never move any higher on the class scale.

Public education was a driving force of what our country was founded on, but is public education free? No. Not even mandatory education such as grade, middle, and high schools are free. If you send even just one child to school K-12 you'll spend around 200$ to 3,000$+ per year just to have one child in "free public education", and that's just the known costs. More are hidden away in your taxes.

Healthcare is an utter sham. Private pharmaceutical companies are outright inhumane and unethical, but under the facade of Capitalism are completely normalized.

Similarly, privately owned and run prisons are just slavery 2.0. Using underpayed labor to make things like the licence plates on your car. Or forcing them into unsafe working environments, "volunteering" them as firefighters and construction workers. Most prisoners make around 0.25 cents per hour of work and spend almost all of that back to the private prison system for basic necessities like hygiene items. When prisoners are released back into the general public, they've received almost nothing to help them rehabilitate into society and are then brought back into prison for repeating crimes. It's a purposely built cycle to keep minorities suppressed and felons, most of which are there for nonviolent offenses, unable to return to society and reliant on the prison system. The system that then thrives via a workforce that will never deplete and cannot legally unionize.

Engrained even further is the idea of a Nuclear family, an idea only ever truly accomplished by already well off straight white citizens. It is then therefore fault on the individual for failing to meet society's standards of a successful life. May poor and marginalized families are unable to meet this unnecessary standard, specifically Latino families are targeted the hardest by this. It also demonizes any families that have gone through a divorce or families that live in two separate parts of the world.

Christianity is the standard in the US, this is evident from any piece of government document you read. It's a line in the Pledge of Allegiance, which as already mentioned is in itself propaganda dug into child from the moment they start school, "In God We Trust". However, allegedly you have freedom of religion, meaning you can freely practice any religion in the United States without persecution, but that doesn't mean its without bias. Specifically Muslims and Jews are targeted the worst here, especially after 9/11. (Which if you really dig into that event's history you find some pretty fucked up shit the US did, which included the funding and gifting of money, weapons, and military training to ISIS.) Events that you will likely never learn about in a textbook.

You'll also probably never learn about the true extent of the Red Scare on US soil in a textbook either. When US military would stalk and murder suspected "Communist" in its own country. Most of which who died were in fact not Russian Spies, but rather protesters of the Cold War. Plenty of which had access to the creation and distribution of media, specifically movies. Plenty of directors in Hollywood were killed for no other reason that because someone who didn't personally like them called in and accused them of "Communist behavior".

Need I remind people that the holiday of Thanksgiving exists? The celebration of death and plauge to Native Americans within their own homes because of colonization. That before Black Africans were shipped over as property, Natives were originally used as slaves and brutality murdered.

That last year police started riots at peaceful protests, well within constitutional rights, and to top it off the ex president started an insurrection which led to the storming of November 3rd.

And this is all just the tip of the iceberg that is USA propaganda, a system built around keeping minorities from being able to accomplish anything with first "proving" themselves worthy. A system built around Wealthy Christian, White Nuclear families and little room for anyone else. An entire country built on over inflated pride and ego without the guts to own up to its mistakes.

The United States is broken and the first step to fixing this country is to understand what's wrong.

#long post #usa government is stupid #you are not immune to propaganda #personal rant #i am not suggesting how to fix anything just pointing out whats wrong #i wont comment on my political views on this post so please dont ask #This is encouraging a discussion and debate but not an arguement #i will disable comments if fighting starts

[gummybearzgocrazyagain]

MALEC FIC REC POST, vol.3

vol. 1

vol.2 

Media AU

Society Rules by @Tiger_Tiger_Burning_Bright [it is apparently based on films i’ve never heard of - The Philadelphia Story / High Society - which does not make it any less entertaining. malec are childhood friends, who had a falling out 5 years ago, and now Magnus is back from London to interrupt Lightwood wedding, aka the social event of the season]

Making my way to you by @asharee_arie [woah, what was that??? is the correct answer “a perfect fanfic”?? what a muthafuckin delight, where has this gem been hiding this whole time??? i was on the floor, rolling around and squealing like a newborn piglet. Intended as some kind of Office AU, this piece does not necessarily follow the outline, but who cares, when the story, and characters, and author’s style are all that perf??? i am in luv]

Mistletoe and Margaritas by @nevermetawolf [this is legendary, and i mean, muthafuckin epic - Office AU so authentic you’d feel it in yo old bones... author calls it a crack fic, although it was anything but!!! major must read for those, who’s ever loved office, allllllll the kudos]

Once Upon a Time in the Clouds by @Fatale (femme) [one of my all-time fav authors, every time i come by a piece i have not read yet, is like a huge YAY, what a talent. so this piece is an AU of something called “sky high”, which i have no idea about, but luved it nevertheless, Alec is born to a family of Supers, and is going to school for children with superpowers, but he himself is yet to manifest any.]

Quite Magical by @lorenzobane [Hogwarts AU, and what an adorable thing it was! granted, i’ve never actually read any of HP books, this was such a delight though... alec is bad at potions, and magnus has to tutor him *wink*]

Chef AU

the way to a chef’s heart by @lecrit [okay, the GIANT SMILE one’s face acquires when one finds out there is a new lecrit fic ≧◠‿◠≦ ≧◠‿◠≦ ≧◠‿◠≦ was reading it, and legitimately squealing like a feral piglet all the way through, cause i fucking luv every single word this woman writes, is like a tiny endorphin explosions in my brain. i know am a hopeless fangirl, but i’ll die on this hill. the way she gets malec, and every variation of them in her works just makes me go (❁´◡`❁) every. single. time.]

kids in the kitchen by @perpetual_journey [cuteness personified, malec are both chefs, and magnus is a single father of max and rafe, and go and read ittttttttt, its that soft content we all need in our lives sometimes]

Knives at the Ready by @harrysglasses [restaurant AU, that is supposed to be a malec rendition of Burnt (am guessing it’s a movie...?), and what a sweet treat it was! i liked author’s style, this is the kind of smooth, unproblematic content one would require to take repose from all the heart-clenching longing i’ve been reading lately... delightful piece to ease thy soul]

Single Parent AU

I Knew From the First Time by @KlaineJane [emmm, excuse you, dear author, who gave you the right to use Rafe and Max to get to my heart, and be generally so fucking cute??? Alec is a single dad of both rascals, that has a meeting with the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and Chairman meets new friends]

And Then I Met You by @everydayfandom [malec are single parents of max and rafe respectively, and alec gets called in to school about the accident max was involved in...who doesn’t luv them some gud ol’ sweet piece of kidfic? those are like a soothing baths for your soul, and lightwood-bane kids are incapable of being anything less than extremely adorable in any interpretation, so]

College AU

Don’t say goodnight by @alistoney [this the kinda lighthearted content i am always here for - College AU]

One year and a bottle of whiskey by @CryptidBane [yassssss, yet another version of the College AU, but with malec as both clueless and pining professors, this type of fic i can read endlessly]

All is Fair in Love and War by @LadyOxymoron [aaaaaaaa, what was this adorableness *major heart-eyes* what a piece, mashallah, college professors AU, where magnus is new in town, and malec is engaging in an elaborate prank war, which, undoubtedly, is nothing more than a prolonged foreplay (c), what a gem]

Canon Divergence

oh, i’ve waited for you by @manticoremoons [so, the fic is happening a little bit further in a timeline, than the books or the series, and Alec is around 30, and... married to Lydia. i know, i know, it almost stopped me from proceeding, and boi am i glad it hasn’t completely, cause it is a damn good piece!]

Hey There Demons, It’s Me (Your Dream Boyfriend) by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [how many recs of this author can i make, without being deemed obsessed? cause y’all should go and read every single thing they wrote, stat. this adorableness is outta this world, literally - magnus’ summoning went sideways, and the loft ends up populated with the teenage ghost-demon, who is very clearly enamored with alexander... all kinds of fluff ensue]

Something Else verse by @CryptidBane (Impetus) [maybe it’s my fever talking, but i am such a sucker for memory loss AUs, and SH fandom has the richest canon base for those, yay! this time, it’s an AU verse after 3x10: rather than asking for his magic, Asmodeus curses magnus by taking away memories from everyone who’s ever loved him, in exchange for freeing jace from lilith’s thrall... oh, what a beautiful and delicious angst ensues]

Home by @otppurefuckingmagic [waaaaaaaaat... *sits with her mouth open* how did you....? how did he...? damnnnnnnnnn you authors in this fandom, stop being so talented!!!! this is uncannily brilliant]

I’ll hold on until you’re home by @alistoney [how dare you sir, right in the feels... the missing scene in the midst of 3x18/3x19, when magnus realizes what his idiot of a boyfriend has done, and confronts him about the Asmodeus deal]

First time for everything by @nebulein [“Nowhere in a Shadowhunters’ job description does it read ‘must look adorable while infatuated with the local High Warlock’.” - series of firsts written with such tenderness and adoration for characters, that it warms your heart while reading, - it shows how much the author cares for them. it is not finished, but whatever has already been written, is gold]

Fake dating AU

The Great Repression by @CryptidBane (Impetus) [although it might not be exactly my regular cup of tea, i still appreciate this author’s style so damn much, and the way they do malec dynamic overall, so it’s here. magnus is a camboy, and alec is hired to protect him from a stalker]

Friends to lovers

Family is Family by @hexicity [my brains are fried by the covid, so any coherent rec would be unlikely right about now, but the softness of this <333 alec sees an ad about a free room, and when he moves in, he finds way more, than he bargained for... gave me a bit of a “happy, shiny people everywhere” vibe, and that’s an automatic rec in my books, so]

Spinning Around In Circles by @lemonoclefox [my fav friends to lovers/mutual pining trope, here you are, and what a pretty pretty wrapper are you wearing - absolutely amazing interpretation of a trope, that seems to has been done to death, and yet here i am, never able to get enough of it <3]

If it walks like a duck by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [this. i was reading this. and after every single word. all i wanted to do was get down on one knee and propose to this person. i dunno who the hell you is, but.... how did you do this? it was... another level of fanfiction.]

Neighbors AU

Meow 17:1 Love Thy Neighbor by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn [again, not a fan of drabbles, but who could resist such softness??? Neighbors AU, where Chairman takes some lessons he learnt from “Parent trap” to heart, and alec is a stumbling mess, but he gets shit done, kudossssssss]

Various AU mix

Solid courage by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [how goddamn CUTE was dat???? answer - the cutest. mashallah people in this fandom can write]

Paper Love by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [it would not be an exaggeration to admit i thoroughly fell in love with this author’s style, i mean, all and every version of their malec is all kinds of awesome. this one is no exception - catarina works in the library, and malec have to take madzie out to a coffee shop, cause their obnoxious flirting is too loud for the quaint environment of catarina’s workplace.... it’s tiny and so so sooooooo sweet]

make no bones by @ohfreckle [yaaaaaaaaay, what a cutie, tiny preciousness about magnus having an awful day and taking it out on a no-good useless building super, simply delightful]

Freud is a Dick by @sanctuary_for_all [Alec works in IT firm, and accidentally sends someone else’s dick pick to his boss, whom he has a crush on... do i need to say more]

shadows in moonlight by @kaeg [damnnnnnn, son, that was a ride!! something exquisitely soulful, tender and so, so poetic... young malec meet in summer vacation home, and it will take your breath away in the best way possible... warning, it is unfinished, but whatever was written, is absolute preciousness]

For the Love of the Game by @TicklemyPickle [Hockey AU, where malec were childhood friends, but had a falling out, and were not in touch for the last 7 years, until magnus gets traded in to alec’s team... i was somewhat unsure about reccing this, as some of the choices author made regarding their dynamic did not exactly resonate with me, but decided to go on, because, god as my witness, one thing this world definitely needs more of - is malec Hockey AUs, word upppp]

Love Is A Gamble by @la-muerta [i myself do not completely understand, why has it taken me so long to get to the “The importance of elsewhere” author’s most famous piece, but i finally have, it was amazeballs, like, the world-building...? off the charts. the language, the moral struggle, what a gem. alec is a grumpy and surely sheriff *duh!!!* of a tiny town, and magnus strolls in being all... well, magnus-y, and opens a gambling house, the potential!!! anyway, i highly doubt this piece needs recs, so imma zip it]

@ohprongs [this author has too many tiny pieces i like to name them individually, but as far as reccing goes, they should def be mentioned here for their effortless, seamless style, and clear love for the characters in all interpretations, that simply shines through all and any AUs they choose to put malec in]

special mention:

@theleftboobgrabber [i wasn’t aware that at this stage it was still possible to come by someone like this. the author, who’s style would impress me so. that unbelievably glorious Mafia AU, absolutely delightful and literally perfect My mama don’t like you series, and something that went straight to my top-5 - MI6 AU ohhhhh, that MI6 AU... i have no coherent words to express the depths of my appreciation, this is unbelievable fucking talent for writing malec]

#malec #malec fic rec #malec fic #shadowhunters fic rec #shadowhunters

[faecaptainofdreams]

Can you at least acknowledge not all men and AMAB are not all bad? Being disabled isn’t an excuse to belittle others - an AFAB mentally ill autistic

My dear, i HAVE acknowledged this. Many times on Twitter, and DA. You also did NOT apparently read the entire description at the bottom stating i do not feel such a way about ALL men. I don’t think all women, cis or otherwise, are all heroines. Of course men not all bad, but I’ve explained 1,000 times why in GENERAL, CIS. MEN. Piss me off. You very VERY strongly missed a LOT of context. You have chosen to fixate on something. The other astonishing thing is, despite my apparently causing you so much upset, you will not let it go or move on from it. More to the point, you continue to hide behind an anonymous facade instead of calmly having a real conversation with me. I assume you’re either stalking me or just haven’t filtered me out of your media, which is alarming for both of us. That or you’re just hung up on something from a few weeks ago and haven’t bothered to update your reservoir of information on me before continuing to say dumb shit, which just makes you pathetic. The way you spoke to me last time, it felt like you just had this endless ocean of information about me, but upon calming down i realized you do not, and actually know VERY little. If you actually paid enough attention, you would see that i have MANY male characters, particularly ones who are kind, benevolent, and even center their own stories. A cis old man is the hero of my Minecraft lore. I also love Peter Parker, a white Jewish boy with spider powers who is sweet and fun and beats bad guys! WOW! 🤪 Crazy, right?! Literally just two examples. I’m also straight and highly attracted to men, cis and trans, so. Kinda hard to completely hate and want to destroy something you’re attracted to. And the “YOU’RE racist for assuming Cynder is black” comment is so silly I’m not even going to dignify it with acknowledgment beyond this point. You need to learn to read context clues, study shit before making accusations and be up front. What you’re doing is weird and unhealthy. Also, i never used my disabilities as an excuse to “hate men” or “be racist.” I explained what my disabilities inhibit me from doing for myself and my community, and why i rely on the internet and use links and funds to do my part for now. Has it ever occurred to you that what i did with Cynder is one person’s unique viewpoint that clearly doesn’t bother literally anyone else, and that my sharing it wasn’t some “wokeness crusade” to overthrow society? That’s giving me WAY too much credit, lmao. And despite your bizarre fixation on me and this one particular piece, i doubt you’ve checked it out since your mounted attack. It’s been updated for more explanation, thanks to some points you brought up. So actually, THANK you for that. No matter how detailed i think i am, clearly i need to learn to be even more concise in the future. If this all isn’t good enough for you, nothing will be. Expressing an observation/opinion about something that can’t impact anyone is not wrong. Expressing anger over men when our society is crippled by patriarchy (and toxic feminazis, absolutely) is not unjustified. I also don’t understand where you think it’s transphobic??? If you’re referring to the part about our energies being different and AMABs being more chaotic, this is a common spiritual belief I’ve been raised with and aligns with my Wiccan roots. It’s not something to take to heart; it’s part of a personal belief system. Does this mean i may find trans women more chaotic? Absolutely. Just as many trans men are usually softer. I would know given half my friends are trans men, INCLUDING my fucking fiancé. But I don’t walk up to people, learn the sex they were born as and just assume they’re pieces of shit or will ruin my life or will automatically be a certain way. That’s idiotic. If this isn’t helpful to you, nothing will be. Either reveal yourself so I can block you, or block ME and get some help. Your obsession is unhealthy. Good luck.

[ardenttheories]

Homestuck's always been antagonistic and insensitive, but I don't recall seeing any of you try to dox Hussie? But please, continue to rationalise how cyberbullying lgbt people for not being nice enough and having opinions about a fictional character you disagree with puts you in the right. A story doesn't go the way you'd like and this is how you respond? You COULD have just not bothered reading it instead of CHOOSING to make your online life about something you hate like a toxic weirdo.

Hi, Kate. I’m so glad you could find my blog. (Edit: that was a joke. Apparently, some anons find it impossible to tell that I don’t actually think you’re Kate). It’s clear to me that you didn’t take the time to read through any of the content that’s actually on here, since you’re throwing around rather wild accusations, so let me take this down step by step.

Homestuck has only rarely been antagonistic and insensitive. Things like the Alpha Trolls - which were clear criticisms of fandom culture - were relatively few and far between, and when we complained about them, they actually stopped. Remind me, for instance, how relevant the Alpha Trolls were to the plot? How long they stayed as mockeries towards the fandom? Yeah, not long. I actually have talked about this before on the blog - alongside other things I thought were negative towards the fandom from the original comic - but the difference here is that... in the entirety of Homestuck, these things were outliers and inconsistencies. They stuck out because they were in stark contrast to the otherwise wonderfully handled content Homestuck went over.

For instance, Homesuck is critical of abuse - especially in terms of relationships. We see through a critical lense the shit normalisation of parental abuse can do to a child - with actual talk of triggers and of the mental and emotional scarring left behind, and the complexities of the child’s feelings towards the parent’s death through Dave - and we see how self destructive relationships can be, how harmful they are, and how hard it can be to leave them - such as Terezi’s very toxic blackrom with Gamzee, which was always portrayed as something negative and harmful especially with how worried Karkat was for her and how withdrawn she became during its run, and Dirk’s relationship with Jake, which goes very much over how communication can cause a deterioration in romantic relationships especially when the two participants have conflicting mental illnesses. 

It also goes over how men, though they can be mired in toxic masculinity, can choose to be good. How sometimes we’re not born as good people, but we can become good people through the love we have for the people around us, through frequent attempts to check what we’re doing, through the sheer willpower to be good. Dirk’s entire arc, knowing that he could very easily become Bro but deciding he doesn’t want to be, that it’s something he wants to work on, is so important and incredibly powerful. Mental illness in men is often just given as an excuse to make them violent with no attempts at betterment - so Dirk actually existed as proof that you don’t have to be that stereotype. 

In contrast, Homestuck^2 completely uncritically gave Jade, who was cis, a dog dick, made her, a bisexual woman, a sex maniac and the yaoi “woman who gets in the way of the gays” trope, made her a cheater and someone who forced her partner into the relationship to begin with, and made her a neglectful mother after having cheated with her best lesbian friend in something that has incredible recall to just about every futanari video ever - and they tried to claim that this was good representation of trans women, actually, and that the only reason we didn’t like it is that Jade is “a woman” who “has sex”.

Likewise completely uncritically, they made Gamzee, an anti-black stereotype, enter a relationship with Jane, a fascist, and then made the entire thing into a cuck joke wherein Jake being frequently drunk and sexually assaulted was funny because he wasn’t “man enough”. They then forced him to go back to his abuser after he left her in a scene that read very much like, “ridiculous man thinks woman is abusing him, go back and do your manly job”. 

This, of course, doesn’t even go into the travesty that is any form of trans representation in the comic. Roxy, a trans man, is barely even focused on as trans; they make no attempt to enforce in the fandom that he’s a trans man the way they do that June is a trans woman, and even then, they seem to think that just saying someone is a trans woman is actually good representation. Not, like, bringing it into the comic - just saying that it’s a thing. And of course, that’s not even going into the completely uncritical lense they have of Vriska, wherein her being a trans woman completely frees her of any and all blame for the past abuses she has comitted, and once again she becomes an amazing character to save the day without a single flaw - which in turn inherently associates trans women with abuse apologism, abusers, and the ideology that just because we’re trans we can get away with anything scott free. 

I honestly cannot think of one instance of good and genuine representation in Homesuck^2, nor can I think of any scene where negative content was actually treated as the negative thing it actually is. There’s no critical lense at all, not like we have in Homestuck; there’s just no fucking comparison. And this isn’t a one-off situation, either. Whereas Homestuck does do fuck ups - isn’t perfect - in between the otherwise brilliant content, Homestuck^2 is just founded upon these horrific takes. There’s almost no good content in between, and what is left is a slog to get through when surrounded by the thick slurry of shit that compromises futa Jade, abuse apologism Vriska, and victim blaming Jake. 

Of course, we didn’t “doxx” Hussie. Hussie actually listened to our complaints, for the most part, and worked with us to create something that worked well. The way Homestuck^2 was touted to work. You know, since it was meant to be written with the fandom in mind, influenced by the things we suggest and react to. We went into Homestuck^2 with the explicit idea that we were going to be listened to and taken into consideration when it was being written - the way we were with old Homestuck. I’m very sorry to say that, when you make these expectations, people are going to be a titchy bit upset when you then commandeer the entire thing and exclude the fandom from any of the process that you said they were going to be part of.

Additionally, it’s rather funny, isn’t it, that what you call doxxing is actually just people upset with how triggering content is being handled, and going to the people who actually wrote the content in order to voice their complaints? It’s almost as if social media exists to allow this communication between reader and author, which is a fundamental thing you’ll learn in any creative writing course, such as the one I’m on currently, wherein you’re actually taught how to respond to social media and to build up your image with your fans. 

Homestuck^2 is an ongoing piece of media. We’re well aware that we have a potential to change these uncritical takes and the horrific way they’re being handled if the writers will just listen to genuine criticism. This is, frankly, no different to the people who go to J. K. Rowling’s Twitter to tell her how harmful her transphobic comments are; because if she believes these things, they will work their way into her texts and will perpetuate harmful ideologies. 

The literal same thing is happening in Homestuck^2 - again, such as futa Jade, which normalises the point of view that bisexuals are cheaters and completely trivialises what it means to be trans, or Gamzee, which perpetuates just about every anti-black stereotype possible. Media does have a very powerful impact on what people see in the real world. This is why, for instance, positive black characters are so important in media; if they’re always portrayed as villains, then people will see real world black people as villains as the ideology is perpetuated to the point of fact. This is especially true if the people already believe in the ideology.

Fiction is one of the best ways that we can counteract this cycle. If you make a character that they like, and they happen to be positive representation, and then they watch more media that is likewise positive representation, it’s more likely to stick that these positive representations are the actual experiences of minority groups. Also? It’s important TO those minority groups. A black person, especially right now, doesn’t want to see an anti-black stereotype fuck a fascist, engage in sexual assult, and then enact pedophilia - only to die at the hands of a hero and be laughed at for the death. Surprisingly, shit like this is why we need to tell the writers that what they’re doing is harmful, that they’re perpetuating phobic ideologies, and that we need better representation - especially in a comic that is this widely read, and also has a very large minor fanbase. 

I shouldn’t need to explain why exposing minors to anti-black stereotypes, transphobic, homophobic, biphobic, abuse apologism, victim blaming, and the trivialisation of rape and sexual assault (especially towards men), might be a federal fucking issue. 

So, no, we’re not actually cyberbullying LGBT+ people. We’re trying to hold shitty writers accountable for the incredibly toxic and harmful ideologies they’re forcing into a text that has always been written with critical thought in mind. 

I should also point out how funny it is that you’re focusing on how some of the writers are LGBT+ - as if we’re not? I’m trans, I’m gay, and I’m ace. Yes, I can actually be these things and absolutely furious that a trans women is writing some of the most transphobic shit I’ve seen in a while into characters she then claims to be completely free of blame. We can be furious that people within our own community are enforcing negative stereotypes.

Being LGBT+ does not make them free from blame. We cannot give them a free pass to be racist, to be transphobic, to be homophobic, biphobic, to be abuse apologists, just because they’re LGBT+. Not only because that’s just a terrible fucking idea to begin with, but because it also reflects so, so badly on the community as a whole. As if being part of the community instantly means that you can do no wrong? As if there can be no toxicity within our own community, despite the fact that there very much is and it is still an issue to this day?

That is such an issue, one of the biggest issues even shown just in Vriska and the way Kate handles her as a whole - and, once again, is WHY we need to get them looking at this shit more critically. This view that LGBT+ people can do no wrong and cannot be criticised is shoved into Homestuck^2 and, once again, perpetuates the ideology. This isn’t something to be proud of. This isn’t something that’s actually okay.

Also, your point that the writers aren’t nice enough and that we disagree on fictional characters - well, I’ve already been over the second part. But for the first part, I would like to remind you that they aren’t just random LGBT+ people on the internet that we’re going to because we think their takes are a little shitty. They’re actual writers working on a piece of media. They are official content creators. 

Again, one of the first things you learn on any creative writing course is that when you become a writer, you gain a significant amount of responsibility for your interactions with the fandom. This is something that you genuinely have to expect, and if you don’t, then, unfortunately you just don’t know what it means to write something that thousands of people have a potential to read. As a writer, it is your responsibility to portray your image online; it is your responsibility to engage with the fans in a meaningful way; it is your responsibility to not cause drama and to listen when criticism is brought up, to have genuine discussion and not to perpetuate hatred - especially towards your own fanbase.

Consider, for instance, the way I’m talking to you right now. This is the sort of tone that someone should take when talking to a fan about genuine criticism. When things are brought up, you go over them step by step, you listen, you write back - you don’t go on a flurry of “fuck yous” to a minor who asked you why your team didn’t post anything about the BLM movement on the official Twitter, and you definitely don’t respond to every comment with genuine criticism with the word “pigshit”. You almost definitely don’t tell your trans masculine and masculine-aligned nonbinary fans that their opinions don’t matter.

As a writer, Kate and the rest of the team have a responsibility with their interactions with their fans. They aren’t just normal fandom voices anymore; they’re official fandom voices, voices that have more weight behind them than anyone else. They’re who people are going to turn to when it comes to anything regarding Homestuck^2. Their words now reflect literally everything about Homestuck^2, the future of Homestuck as an expanded universe, and the opinions of the group as a whole. They have to be careful with what they say. They have to be held to the same standards as industry voices because that’s essentially what they are - especially now that Homestuck is something you pay for. 

Also, this isn’t a point of the story not going the way I want. This is a point of many of people in the fandom being upset with how content is being handled, upset that their voices are being shut down, upset that triggering content is being laughed at or used flippantly and without care or respect. This is people being upset that trigger warnings were removed specifically to make the comic unsafe for them as a punishment for daring to say that something was wrong. This is people being upset that a piece of media that used to be so fucking good at portraying sensitive content in a critical light, that used to be so good at normalising LGBT+ identities and healthy representations of those identities, has suddenly turned to this. 

The story can go whatever way it wants - and frankly, that’s fine be my. What isn’t fine is that content is being used specifically to hurt and to incite.

And, of course, that final piece; nothing will improve if we don’t say that it’s wrong to begin with. Someone needs to voice the complaints of the fanbase, othrewise these toxic ideologies are going to go unchecked. One of the biggest things I’ve come to understand while making these posts is that a significant portion of the fandom feels isolated in their hurt; they don’t think other people feel the same way they do, and several people have mentioned feeling like they were going crazy because they were upset with things that the text and writers are normalising. It’s so important to make sure that these people know they’re not alone. It’s so important to make sure that our voices are heard. It’s so important to try and create critical discussion and debate over something that so many people still fucking love. 

The thing is, I don’t hate Homestuck^2. I actually really, desperately wish I could enjoy it. I wish I could read through it and theorise, could go in depth about how amazing the characters are, could write long and extensive posts on how creative and engaging it is - could even just go on about how interesting the Meat-Candy divide is, and all the points they’re trying to make about canonicity. But I genuinely fucking can’t. There is just so, so much wrong in the text that is completely unrelated to plot and to the overarching Point that makes it impossible for me to read, to want to read, to try to encourage other people to read. They’re things that literally don’t need to be in there, either; stereotypes and toxic ideologies and uncritical or badly handled sensitive topics that could be rectified so, so easily. 

Homestuck^2 could be amazing for a lot of the fandom. It could be something that we all rally around the same way we did for the original comic. For for a lot of people, it has ruined their fandom experience, has ruined their desire to want to read anything more to do with Homestuck, and has caused a significant portion of the fandom to just drop out entirely. That in and of itself should be a sign that this isn’t just a little fandom drama. That this is something much bigger and much more serious that, just maybe, needs to be looked into, talked about, understood - and, potentially, changed. 

#homestuck^2 #homestuck^2 critical #long post// #ardenttheories #Apologies for how long this is. I wasn't going to finish it until I got every point across #And that ended up being... uh. Several thousand words I suspect #Anonymous

[border-spam]

Leech Lord: Allies

Troy

Gar is about as native as a Pandoran can get, and has for years had a very soft spot for the bratty King.

He's old colonist, thinks his parents might have been with Atlas on one of the many failed corporate town setups that plagued Pandora 30-ish years ago. He was too young to remember who's banner they flew under when his family stepped out of the shuttle and onto the dust planes they’d been instructed to settle, just that things went wrong fast and anyone still alive 18 months later had needed to adapt quickly to what constitutes living on this planet.

He was drawn to the Holy City for the same reasons as most survivalists, it was an opportunity for safety and a roof over your head. Not needing to fight to eat or scrabble to stay alive is a blessing for most Pandorans, and he's one of the thousands who live within the walls who don't quite worship the twins as Gods, but praise them as holy... because the twins gave them a chance to have a home. Wether they are deities or not isn't a factor in the loyalty they've’ earned.

He's skilled with food. Knows how to spice spoiled flesh to hide the rot, pickle cactus root and delicate rock blossoms for long storage, or how long rakk wing needs to be slow roasted to turn from gamey string to meat that melts in the mouth.

Like most in the HC, he ended up where his skills have value and has ran the kitchens in the Grand Cathedral since its founding bricks were set.

It didn't take very long for him to find Troy in it one night - picking through ingredients and half finished dishes in the early AM.

While he'd expected to need to drop to his knees and grovel, the God King had seemed more embarrassed than anything, awkwardly explaining he hadn't eaten that day and asking if there was anything left from the after sermon banquet. 

His eager politeness had hit Gar hard, but his reaction to finding out the leftovers had been destroyed was what left a lasting impression.

Gar had thought the twins affluent spoiled little shits who'd hit things lucky on Pandora and been clever enough to know how to use their wealth to culture worship, so when Troy was genuinely upset to the point of disgust that food had been wasted like that? It changed his perception immediately.

This wasn't the reaction of some egotistical little shitbag from a wealthy background, this was the visceral panic and anger of someone who'd starved before, who understood the insult of food being destroyed when there were so many hungry... when he'd known hunger.

It took less than 24 hours for the kitchen policies to be changed and Gar's team to find out nothing was to be wasted. Uneaten and unused stock was to be transported at end of day to the Slums from now on, where it would "Bolster the flesh of the faithful."

Every time he finds Troy hunting through his kitchen at 4 am over the years, their chats grow a little longer.

By late COV, Gar's meals delivered to his sanctum are some of the only things God King Calypso still trusts enough to eat.

Tyreen

Xanshi Ur-Vendit is obsessed with the God Queen.

As her Saint of Marketing, he's got both her ear and a position of high authority within the organisation that he covets viciously, and takes great personal offense towards newer Saints he doesn't deem worthy of the title.

His pedigree speaks for itself, the man had quite a reputation on Promethea among the media departments of the high corporations. An expertly trained and cut-throat money maker that was the exact kind of egotistical, nasty piece of work that would be drawn to the God Queen's side.

Has direct tie in's with the esteemed Katagawa family, something he's used to his benefit throughout his career.

He fawns over her, she can do no wrong around him, and he spends as many hours of the day as he can trailing behind her heels like a lapdog, reaffirming her beauty and intelligence and infallibility with every breath he can manage between the underhanded threats he aims towards anyone possibly about to draw her attention away from him.

Hates Troy. Fucking hates him.

Too much of a hole-sucking little coward in his $60k three piece suit to actually do anything about it of course, but he takes plenty of his vitriol out on Troy's departments instead.

Marketing has such massive reach within the internal structure of the COV that he's able to throw his weight around far more than some of her other Saints, and regardless of if they actually like him, they tend to back Xan and his opinions automatically.

A huge amount of the conflict between departments and heads is driven by this imagined competitiveness, that Troy's people, Troy's chosen, must in some way be inferior to Tyreen's.

Xan is her right hand in his own mind, he's her holy knight. If she holds too much misplaced love for her brother to see how pathetic he is in comparison to her radiance, then it's up to Xan to keep Troy's people in place...

In reality? Tyreen isn't even invested in him enough to remember Xanshi's full name.

Seifa

Sei makes friends in low places far easier than higher ones, always has. People at the bottom of the ladder, folks who have struggled? They recognise each other. Doesn't matter where on the scales they currently stand, there's an unspoken nod, a side glance. You see your own - even if who you are has been lucky enough to change over time.

While she's never been in one place long enough to set up a friend network before that was tangible and not based on e-comms and data feeds, she's woven one since settling in the HC without really even noticing it was happening.

One-hand Jim in the King's Call, that high end rave bar near the cathedral grounds. Not so gruff now he's not drowning in debt, few more smiles while he's mixing cocktails.

Cleo in munitions stocks, breathing a bit easier since her son landed that underling role in the Mechanica, more food on the table with less worry.

Feliz and Irgo running deals in the western slum backstreets. Not competing against the HammerClaws for territory anymore since JK "got wind" of the shit they were cutting their gear with and had Vanguard waiting at their quarters for a polite discussion about unspoken laws. What Fe and Iggy are selling isn't exactly high quality but at least it won't rot your brain inside the skull.

Sei will tell you she's a lone wolf. She'll insist she’s a one woman show, runs shit on her own and doesn’t need others.

But watch closely when out with her in the city, check how often she buys a drink, how often it's not on an invisible tab the barstaff nod knowingly about as they hand her glass over with a smirk.

She's never asked to pay.

That should tell you plenty.

Seifa and Tyreen

- Early COV

"Ty, you ever wish you were born a guy?"

Of all the things Tyreen had expected to hear from Sei tonight, that... wasn’t it. She stopped reading the same piece of nonsensical math in the sheet she was holding to gawk at Seifa instead, staring at the other woman’s back as she continued to work on the data records they'd been passing between them all evening.

"No.. god. What, and look like Troy?" she snorted with a wince. "Nooooo thanks" Ty sighed as she leaned back and heard her stiff spine pop, waiting for a response that didn't come. She felt a pang of concern as Sei's shoulders sank a little lower in front of her, deflating.

This wasn’t normal, where was the bitchy retort, or joining in on insulting her brother? She shuffled together the files and stood, walking to her friend's side and sitting slowly next to her in the quiet of the twin's shared office. Sei still hadn’t responded, pretending to be completely absorbed by the notes she stared at. Ty cleared her throat with a cough.

"Uhhh.. why?"

Seifa silently reached to her side to take the offered files from Ty as she sat, pointedly not making eye contact, though the younger woman picked up on the redness in them easily enough.

"Sei, I need to have someone's hands cut off?" 

Ty pouted, hitting her mark as Seifa failed to completely hide a smirk in response.

"I need to have someone thrown into a pit? Huh? C'mon Sei, talk to me. You always tell me I need to talk more about things that me down, right?" she weedled, hands clasped over her heart as she faux whined, earning a quiet laugh from her companion.

"Oh god Tyreen SURE, if you'll shutup." Sei groaned, leaning back in her chair and running hands over her eyes. She was tired. Beyond tired, really. Always said she knew how to not outstay her welcome but had been wondering recently if that had ever been true. Day to day in the cult, managing people she’d never meet and holding the weight of more responsibility than she’d ever wanted was eating at her. Had been for some time. Nights like this helped, shooting shit with Tyreen, bitching, sometimes gently bullying Troy together if he’d decided to grace them with his janky presence, but still.. it was heavy, and Seifa was tired. 

"Ahh.. just the usual shit" she whispered, thumbing through the papers as Tyreen leaned a little closer, as much of a comforting presence as she could muster all things considered. An arm around the shoulder or gentle stroke of hair wasn’t an option. All Ty had was words and honestly, they weren’t exactly her forte.

“It's just like. Sometimes when I'm talking, and it's about something they think I shouldn't know shit about, like how Burgess is spending too much of your budget on expensive, low grade gear-assemblies when if we went off brand I can prove it would be better, they just zone out."

"It's like.. if they thought I had a cock, if I was 6'4, they'd be listening. " she added, eyes burning again.

She groaned, leaning over the table and resting her cheek across her folded arms.

"I got so angry. I'm used to dealing with it, it's always happened, but I just boiled over. This week has been.. long, I guess." she whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose as Tyreen watched quietly. "I ate into him in front of like, 6 other people Ty, couple of heads were there. That doesn't help my reputation does it.. that's just making shit worse. I'm sabotaging myself. They think I'm a bitch already without me starting a fight and stirring the pot."

Tyreen shifted in her seat, eyes thoughtful as she rested her chin in her hands, elbow propped on the table edge.

"Nah. "

"Just sounds like they're dumb. I keep telling Troy we need people with actual brains leading this shit Sei, if you're getting ignored cause you have tits? Haha. Wait till they meet me in person. " she grinned, a genuine act peeking through her usual haughty persona as Seifa chuckled.

"I mean my rack is way bigger than yours, you're flat as a fuckin' plank in comparison."

Asks are Open!

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #tyreen calypso #troy calypso #calypso twins #seifa #leech lord #my hcs #my writing #lldrabbles

[love-fireflysong]

Day 18: Photo

Fandom: Until Dawn Character(s): Chris Hartley, Josh Washington, Ashley Brown Words: 1962 Rating: Teen (language bitches!) Author’s Notes: *Nickelback’s ‘Photograph’ plays in the background* Still alive over here! And it’s not angst this time! Amazing, I know. Big reason this one is so late is because after spending 3 days thinking about what to do for this, I still had nothing. And then I inspiration came to me in the shower so here we are: the follow-up to Deals and Arguments that probably no one wanted! Because lets be honest, if Ash is the one who writes ‘Ashley Hartley’ in her books, then Chris absolutely scribbled a heart with their initials by accident once. And that’s all it takes for Josh...

For almost as long as Chris had known him, Josh had always been obsessed with the idea. He wants to say that it started when they were in fifth grade, when their teacher, Ms. Franks, announced to the class that since she was pregnant, that she was going to be taking a leave of absence just before the end of the school year. Someone, he couldn’t recall who, had asked if they had a name for the baby picked out, but he could recall the response as though it had happened only yesterday.

“It’s still a little too early for names, but if they’re gonna be a girl, we’re thinking of naming her after a mutual best friend of ours.”

Ever since then, Josh had been all over the idea. Every dare, every piece of blackmail, every ‘dying’ wish was the same: “Name your kid Josh.” When he was younger, Chris would laugh and shove Josh away with a roll of his eyes. It was funny back when he was like ten or eleven, or hell, even when he was thirteen! He was gonna be a super cool app developer, he wasn’t gonna have time for marriage, much less kids. All of his time was gonna be spent developing super awesome games and apps that were gonna save the world! Or something. 

While his mind didn’t exactly change the moment he met Ashley the summer after he turned thirteen, he is ashamed to admit it was pretty dang close. Josh introduced Ash to him in their favorite fast food diner, and declared the three of them to be best friends, til death do us part, yada yada yada. At the end of July, the three of them were inseparable, and by the beginning of school that September, he was gone. Donezo baby! Head-over-fucking-heels for the little braces wearing, red-head that read Sherlock Holmes and Shakespeare for fun.

And unsurprisingly, Josh never let up on his demand. Nope, he did not! In fact, he got even worse about it. 

He needed to borrow a pencil for math? Name your kid after me. 

Can he spot him a couple of bucks for ice cream? Only if you name your kid Josh. 

When did the Battle of the Alamo take place? 1846. But I’ll tell you the right answer if you swear to name your first-born after me. 

While extremely exhausting to try and avoid, Chris was able to do so easily. He just started asking the kid who sat behind him in class for pencils, borrowed money from Ash instead, and he’d rather fail history then name his kid after Josh. Thankfully, after his first bombed history exam, Ash made all three of them do their homework together constantly, so the last one became a moot point. Barely.

Eventually, Josh tapered off on the demand, but not until after the start of the next school year. Most people probably would have stopped a few weeks in, but most people weren’t Josh Washington. When he wanted something, the guy stuck to his guns and didn’t give it up for nothing. Not that he stopped entirely of course, Josh still brings it up during dares and shit but it becomes immensely more manageable. He notices that he doesn’t ask it of Ash during these game, but when he considers the completely mortified look she gets on her face when ever he gets asked, Chris figures that its probably for the best.

(The fact that he not only stops that day Chris walked back into Ash’s bedroom and she’s as red as her hair while shoving something into her desk drawer, but that’s also when the mortification starts, he doesn’t clue into until years later.)

So when Josh walks up to him during their first period together with the absolute shittiest of shit-eating grins on his face, Chris is on red high alert.

“Oh no. What did you do?”

The laugh Josh gives is low and dark, and if Chris’s hackles weren’t raised earlier, they sure as fucking-hell are now. “Oh no, Cochise. It’s not what I’ve done, it’s what you’ve done.” With that, Josh proceeds to just slam a binder onto Chris’s desk, and he looks to see that he recognizes it easily.

“Okay...? I don’t see what my math notes have to do with anything.”

Another laugh, this one somehow darker and eviler then the first. Oh boy, those alarms going off in his head aren’t getting any quieter. “Oh, it has absolutely everything to do with you.” Before Chris can even respond, Josh is already flipping through the pages, past older pieces of loose-leaf that ripped from the binder coils that he hadn’t bothered to repair and and the newer notes with their edges still intact, and stops at the most recent. At first Chris doesn’t see anything, it’s all his notes about logarithms that he had taken the previous day, blue ink scratchy and messy all across the page, and then he does. And he absolutely blanches at the sight and hurriedly slams the binder shut, putting his face in his arms as he covers his head, actually whimpering as he refuses to look at Josh.

He doesn’t have to look to see the triumphant grin on Josh’s face, he can already imagine it pretty clearly. 

“Oh fuck me.”

The worst part is that he didn’t even know it was there in the first place, he never would have lent his notes out otherwise. Josh had been missing more and more school recently, claiming that he was having killer headaches and they were making him sick, so Chris had done what friends do for each other and lent him his notes. What he didn’t realize was that at some point when he had been taking notes down, he had drawn a little heart in the margins with the initials CH+AB inside. Something he never would have done if Josh had been there with him, but he hadn’t been, so Chris had zoned out thinking about meeting up with Ash after school to bring Josh his homework.

He was so dead.

“What do you want?” Though muffled through his arms, he cringed at how small and weak his voice came out.

God, he could hear the stupid grin in Josh’s voice when he answered. “You know exactly what I want, Cochise. What I’ve always wanted.”

Chris didn’t remove his head from his arms on the desk, but he did turn it enough to narrow his eyes at Josh. “Are you fucking serious dude? Really? You’re still on about that shit?”

“I will never stop. You know this to be true.”

“I am not naming my stupid kid after you! I mean, maybe I won’t ever have kids. I’m certainly not gonna if I have to name them Josh!”

Josh rolled his eyes, but the wide grin never left his face. “You don’t have to name all of them after me. Just one.” Somehow, Chris watched the grin get even wider as a thought came to him. “Maybe two, if they’re twins. Can you imagine? The twins, Joshua and Joshlynn, it’ll be great!”

“Okay, now I’m definitely never having kids.”

Josh gave a short bark of laughter. "Please, like that’s ever gonna happen. You wanna know why, Cochise? Cause if Ash is gonna want kids, then you’re gonna want kids.”

He couldn’t help it. He really, truly couldn’t help it. The image of little kids with bright red hair and glasses flashed through his mind unbidden, and he groaned loudly and put his face back into his arms to hide how red his face had gotten.

“Anything else, dude. Make me do anything else. I will strip and run through the entire school naked if you want, just don’t make me promise you this stupid shit.” God, if only he hadn’t drawn that stupid heart on his stupid notes, then none of this would be happening right now! He sat up in his seat at the revelation. “Wait. I can just rewrite the page and burn this one.”

“Oh, Chris Chris Chris.” They way Josh shakes his head in disappointment sends around a million different alarm bells ringing. “Do you really think that little of me? I took like a million pictures my dude. This shit is saved forever. I can send this to Ash whenever the fuck I want. I can post this on whatever social media I feel like and it will live on the internet forever, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Oh. Right. Shit. “I can’t believe that you can literally blackmail me with anything right now, and this is the hill you’re dying on.”

“So are we in agreement then?”

“I cannot believe I’m saying this, but yes. Fine. I will name my stupid kid after your stupid ass.”

“Oh please. Your kid may be stupid, but there is no way that any kid of Ashley’s is gonna be.”

“...I hate you so much right now.”

--------------------------------------------------

Chris hadn’t meant to respond the way he did when he found the old notebook he had bought for Ash years ago. He really hadn’t. He had just been excited to find out that she had kept the stupid thing after all these years, he hadn’t even been joking when he told her that he had spent ages in the store looking for it. (”It has to be perfect, Mom! I can’t just buy her any stupid old journal, she loves these things! I mean, what if she hates it?”) So he had opened it and started flipping through the pages, laughing with her at all the stupid misspellings and bad grammar that her thirteen year-old self had written.

And then he reached the last page.

Things had really been out of his hands at that point. Something about seeing her writing her name down as ‘Ashley Hartley’ had just ignited something in him. The images of her walking down an aisle, of them with matching rings on their fingers, of kids running underfoot, was too much for him to handle. So Chris had kissed her. Kissed her like he was never gonna be able to do it again. Them falling onto her bed had been an accident, though a happy one, as they both didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss.

Finally, he had pulled away and her giggle when she moved to fix his glasses had taken his breath away. It had quickly returned when his eyesight improved enough to really take in the image of Ash flushed pink with her red hair spread out under her on the bed, and he was suddenly reminded that she was going to be living with him soon! That this was a sight he was going to be waking up to every morning at the end of the month, and he had never wanted anything so bad in his life.

“So,” his voice is rougher than usual when he speaks and he can feel her shiver under him at it. He makes a note for future reference. “Ashley Hartley, huh?” 

He watches her bite her lip, and it takes everything in him to not kiss her again. Two years in, and he’s still amazed that he’s allowed to kiss her whenever he wants, that she encourages it even! “Be honest with me,” she starts off and Chris has never been told to do something so easy in his life, “what do you think of the name Joshlynn?”

He stares at her for just a moment, just letting her words sink in, and then falls forward to smother himself in her hair, his shoulders shaking he’s laughing so hard. Of course. Of fucking course he did.

“So he got you too, I see.”  

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #until dawn #chris hartley #josh washington #ashley brown #chrashley #im laughing that this is only like 20 words shorter then d&a #how the hell did i manage to make these almost the same length? #and theres so many damn italics in this god #this is gonna take forever to format on ao3 #what was i thinking? #does this have anything to do with photos? #not really #but considering that rainbow had almost nothing to do with rainbows #thats okay #probably should have used this for dare instead #oops

[escapekissed]

Lucky do you have any favorite pieces of media from the psychological horror genre? Feels like its a genre that matches ur interests very well 👉🏽👈🏽

there are a couple that really speak to me!

first is rule of rose, which is a game that is incredibly formative to me. in a time where i was looking for representation as a young gay person and REALLY into looking up wiki pages for horror games, rule of rose showed me the symbolic trauma of puberty and toxic ‘love’ between girl children and the violence of patriarchal figures that i was looking for. it showed such cruelty but also such strength in its main character, and the symbolism? exquisite.... it also just has such a creepy atmosphere and the fact that the game is near impossible to play along with its shitty graphics for the enemies makes it so. peculiar and creepy in a very special way to me.

catherine is another atlus game near and dear to my heart, tho i dont  think i’m ever going to be playing full body for that exact reason. it’s a game basically about eugenics and misogyny, about gods&devils thinking of women as only reproductive objects and the men in their lives that ‘waste their reproductive time’ being tortured and killed for it, taking away a woman’s choice. i always thought it would be so interesting to do trans and lesbian takes on this game, and i have never really? stopped thinking about how this game is so thrilling in its themes of entitlement and stopping people’s freedom to love as they wish. this is also one of the only horror games in which the ‘human element’ actually interests me. so many horror games give u terrible people and i dont give a FUCK ABOUT THEM. but the way this game shows u just snippets of his life as a ‘break’ from the excruciatingly scary (to me, because time limits scare me LOL), stressful as hell puzzles. and u get to figure out the mystery of what is going on in people who would otherwise be boring to you, but in this game are shrouded in just enough mystery that ur actually interested in their boring day-to-day lives. its so satisfying just to drink with ur buds. its like really great gameplay to me tbh. i also just love katherine and catherine and they frusturate me so much and that’s exactly what they’re supposed to do which i LOVE. extremely effective atmosphere setting and worldbuilding, basically.

the lighthouse is my favorite horror movie tbh because it does suspense so well. the movie is literally themed around suspense, the suspense of not getting sexual satisfaction to completion, of being touch starved and lonely and repressed, of being able to hold ur boss but never kiss him, of being fed lobster but it tastes flavorless and bland and u can smell ur boss’s farts the whole time while he prattles on with disturbing sailor’s tales and barks out orders until he’s lulled into his drink. i honestly love this movie. and the acting is brilliant and unhinged

there’s a few indie games i really like that have been either formative to me or i just??? really like their vibe and i can basically tell from them i would like every game in the ‘genre.’

pocket mirror to me is like, this beautiful game about your own inner toxicity and escaping from yourself. i love indie 64-bit games like this, the background art is so beautiful, and while i’ve never played all the way through it because it scares me too much---i love ib and all the games in the ‘ib’ genre LOL.

doki doki literature club i know is a very strange game to like, but i enjoy it for letting the women be actual characters with their own thoughts and feelings. the pychological horror movie ‘i’m thinking of ending things’ is the exact opposite of this game.'i’m thinking of ending things’ is a backwards approach to feminist horror in my opinion. it’s from a male’s perspective of his hallucinations of a girl that once didn’t give him a second glance and his violence towards her in these fantasies. it takes itself painfully seriously. it pretends to deconstruct something that the director helped soldify (the manic pixie dream girl trope) in the public eye. doki doki literature club on the other hand, the passive character who ‘things happen to’ is the man. the active roles all go to the women in the game and what they do to themselves in order to be loved by not just a man, but the player, and in doing so they often become the all-knowing god of their own prison. like tell me that’s not the dopest thing u’ve ever heard of!

twilight zone is a big one for me but 5 episodes in particular have shaped how i view horror forever. ‘to serve man’---where the greatest, scariest thing in the world is not being able to understand the language another person is actually using and for them to manipulate u using ur own, actually wishing u harm as they placate you with your own interpretations. the episode where a rich man’s last will and testament is for his vain, selfish relatives to wear a mask until midnight that reveals symbolically how ugly they are to him. they bicker all night with petty squabbles, and then at midnight he reveals the mask has permeanantly shaped their faces to reveal who they really are and the abuse he suffered under them. the cornfield episode still scares the shit out of me as someone with an entitled younger brother whose entitlement and anger is often enabled by those around us, and i’ve always thought that it was such a good show of like, how patriarchy enables little boy’s violence. the episode ‘all the time in the world’ where an abused man with a shitty life is finally the last man on earth and he can do anything he’d like to do and all he wants to do is read but then he breaks his glasses. and finally! the episode where toys in a box come to life and bemoan their fate as they realize they will be trapped there forever in clothes and identities they do not recognize. these episodes always scare the shit out of me LOL.

besides that i really like. low-budget passion project indie games. the first that comes to mind is ‘the path’ which is about a family of four sisters of various ages all inspired by little red riding hood who stray from the path and are hunted by the woodsman. and then the game that YOU my dear myers! showed me! that haunts me to this day. basically a tape talks to you about the areas of a house and then starts to talk about the house as a living creature. and the living creature is hungry, without you inside it. the living creature is tired of being alone, it’s tired of being abandoned, it’s tired, and it’s eyes are empty with no one in the windows, and it’s mind is blank with no one in the bedroom, and it’s hangry there’s no one in its basement to feast on, to torment as it has been tormented by disuse.

last but not least, i really enjoy the book ‘sharp objects.’ which is not technically a horror novel. but it is about a serial killer, and about women and abuse and it has some of the best writing ever. so i highly recommend it AND the miniseries (watch the miniseries first then read the book bc the miniseries is like. directed better? but the novel is written and characterized better. it’s also very short u can finish it in like a day and a half).

honorable mentions for horror In General (not necessarily psychological horror) are: 1) the birdcage. i honestly consider this movie entirely unsettling. robin williams failing to portray a man that is actually attracted to nathan lane, which could be because they have simply been married so long but also is just awful to me in general bc it makes me feel like even our outwardly gay but still more masc gay men can’t love and be attracted to femme camp gays even when they’re married to them. the fact that both these men that could be so in love, that were so in love at one time, you can at the very least imagine, are told by their only son that they need to go back in the closet to impress some old ass republicans, giving the message that no matter how succesful you are in the gay community, no matter how bright and wonderful a presence you are, no matter how loving you are, no matter how much you love, no matter how interwoven you are in lgbt-ness, the straight people you love most will still try to change you to impress the wold. horrifying.

2) coraline. its children’s horror but that’s still horror baby! i think lately about how much the movie talks about mothers and birth. coraline calls whybie ‘why born’ and i just think about how much she thinks about creating a new life with a new mother, and how going through that small door into a long tube... it’s like crawling into a new womb and being reborn to a new mother that loves you. and that’s horrific from a feminist perspective in and of itself---that your child would feel so unloved and unimportant to you that she would literally... rather die in this life, technically, rather be ‘unborn’ to you and born anew to someone, someone just like you but better, someone just like you but what SHE wants a mother to be, feminine and skirted and smiling. and then there’s the fact that coraline only gives this up when she realizes her other mother basically wants to change her more to suit her liking in ways that would cause her pain, at which point she realizes this whole fantasy is a lie, not real, something meant to entice her and control her and make her ‘perfect’---the same way she wants her mother & father to be ‘perfect’ in a way that causes her to act out and hurt them. it’s psychological horror that’s technically not psychological horror in the best way, something you can really dig your teeth into, something that has so many layers to it. and the animation! gorgeous!

3) finally i have recently watched annihilation. and it kind of changed my life a little bit.... so often we’re used to viewing monsters as either 1) malicious or 2) romantic/sad/sexy. but the monster in this movie is literally a metaphor for cervical cancer. 

to me, the monsters and the corpses and all the beautiful scenery in this movie, in every color u can think of, a muted rainbow of flowers and nature at its best and most bizarre and sprawling. i often say that monsters are beautiful, but tbh, i feel like... somehow i always mean that in a way that is near-fetishitic, somehow self-depcrating way, where i want to consider what other people think is ‘ugly’ is ‘beautiful to me’ because what i am also ugly to other people as a monster to the cishet white patriarchy. there are things i consider beautiful, certainly, purely beautiful. but when i talk about monsters being beautiful, it is in the way the sublime is beautiful. it scares me, it haunts me, i love it, i want to possess it as part of me, a totem to carry in my back pocket to make the strength in my own ugliness stronger.

when i saw the monster in this movie (SPOILERS) i was immediately unnerved at this bad cgi abomination that bloomed from the most beautiul cgi cancer death cosmos imaginable. it scared me and i had to sleep with a light on for 2 days after LOL. but i was also moved by its gentleness. by the fact that the cervical cancer alien, when it tried to hurt you, wasn’t trying to hurt you at all. it was simply copying your movements. in the movie, it says that the creature wants nothing. it was simply copying. it was simply changing. it’s a prism of nature---and it corrupts yes, and it can hurt people and things and turn them into scary but still terribly unique and beautiful things that also kill---but the movie says that it wants nothing. it simply exists. it’s a part of nature, same as us, a part of the same universe and cosmos, despite being alien to us and stange and hurting us sometimes in ways that it doesn’t understand.

i don’t know. if i quite believe the movie when it says that, though. because i think if you copy someone, like a child would, you are trying to understand them. you are trying to understand yourself. you are trying to form yourself in another’s image when you have none, and you are failing at that, and hurting people and creating monsters in the process, but you are trying as best as you can to be whole and beautiful and sane like the lovely creatures you’ve met on this earth, or this body. to be part of something great and beautiful. to be part of another world.

maybe it doesn’t want anything. but do WE want anything as children, when we copy adults? why did the bear and the alligator try to eat our heroes if they were not hungry? did the bear and the alligator not WANT to eat? i think everything wants to live, and everything wants to grow, and if it can learn to live better and grow better it Will learn even if that is not its explicit intention. does the alien have feelings? does nature? do we have to personify things to understand them? no. does personifying things make us understand them less? no, yes, sometimes. we ask animals and nature to copy us, follow us, so that we can understand them better. the relationship in between----from the hurt, from the pain, from the droughts and the food shortages and the hurricanes and the fireworks---forms from our kindness and understanding. that our crops are useful, and the man-made mutation of our crops and the help of the ran and the sun is also useful. that our animals may not love us, but they need us, and we love them for putting their paw on our thighs to be pet, for following us into the bathroom even when we just wanted a moment alone.

regardless of its intentions, the alien, cancer, every creature, every human, they simply want to grow. in copying others---in trying to touch, to change, to understand, and be close---we learn to live in the same body, learn to live in the same world. the togetherness--the new sight the prism brings---it’s beautiful. it is beautiful to copy, however poorly. it is beautiful to try. we all shape others to our own standards---we sometimes forget we too, were made in own own perception of others’ image.

#ooc: replies #this took me all day to answer because i had to go to COSTCO in the middle. LOL #destructiveglitch

[route22ny]

ON 19 OCTOBER 2016, in the third and final presidential debate, Hillary Clinton opined that Vladimir Putin would “rather have a puppet as president of the United States,” meaning Donald John Trump, than a formidable adversary like her. As Trump short-circuited like a Star Wars droid on the fritz (“No puppet. No puppet. You're the puppet!”), she continued:

It’s pretty clear you won't admit that the Russians have engaged in cyberattacks against the United States of America, that you encouraged espionage against our people, that you are willing to spout the Putin line, sign up for his wish list, break up NATO, do whatever he wants to do, and that you continue to get help from him, because he has a very clear favorite in this race.

So I think that this is such an unprecedented situation. We've never had a foreign government trying to interfere in our election. We have 17 intelligence agencies, civilian and military, who have all concluded that these espionage attacks, these cyberattacks, come from the highest levels of the Kremlin and they are designed to influence our election. I find that deeply disturbing.

As usual, HRC was right. But even the most cynical viewer could scarce have imagined, in the fall of 2016, just how on the nose she was.

Trump’s activities since taking office—the gutting of the State Department, the jackals in the Oval Office, Helsinki, Mueller obstruction, Ukraine skulduggery, and his willful non-response to the covid pandemic—make clear that the longtime mob money launderer has spent most of his presidency doing Putin’s bidding, just as Clinton predicted. Allow cyberattacks against the United States? Check. Encourage espionage against our people? Check. Spout the Putin line? Always. Sign up for his wish list? Like a porn addict on OnlyFans. Break up NATO? Western Europe is as divided now as it’s been since the forties. Continue to get help from him? Every fucking day.

Three years after that third debate, almost exactly to the day, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi stormed out of a meeting with President Trump concerning his strategically obtuse decision to withdraw US troops from Syria—a move that was ore in Russia’s interests than ours. “Why,” she exasperatedly asked the press, “do all roads lead to Putin?”

It’s actually quite simple: Trump has been mob property his entire life. The difference is that now, in 2020, the mobster who owns him is not “Fat Tony” Salerno, or “Big” Paul Castellano, or Sammy “The Bull” Gravano, or even Semion “The Brainy Don” Mogilevich. The mobster who owns him is Vladimir Putin—which makes Trump, by extension, a wholly owned subsidiary of the Russian government.

Previously, I wrote about Trump’s longtime association with the mob, both Italian and Russian, and his almost certain career as a top echelon Confidential Informant for the Justice Department. He is, as I said, “second generation mobbed-up.” Although he is not, and never can be, an actual mobster—a front can never be a member of the family, for obvious reasons—the unscrupulous Trump is an extremely useful asset to his underworld associates, and has been for decades. Front men, after all, are a vital cog in the global crime syndicate machine. That dirty money’s not going to wash itself.

While the Trump Organization does deals overseas, for most of his career Donald Trump was a stateside operator. The bulk of his revenue is homegrown. As a business professional of my acquaintance who worked for years in Russia colorfully put it: “The thing to remember about Trump is that he’s a venal crook, not some international criminal mastermind. His primary source of wealth, such as it is, comes from a string of golf courses, hotels, and mixed-use office buildings spread around the world, but the corn nuggets in his crown of shit are in the New York metro area and spread across the beaches of Miami-Dade, Palm Beach, and Broward County, Florida.”

So how did a Queens-born front-man and mob money launderer, whose business was overwhelmingly domestic, wind up an asset of a hostile foreign government?

To understand this transformation, it is instructive to think of Trump not as a human being but as an asset, in the strict sense of the word—a piece of property, like a beach house, a private jet, or an HBO Go password. Just as two different families can share a beach house, and your buddy down the street can use your login to stream Succession, so Trump can be utilized by more than one entity at a time. He can also be sold outright—or rather transferred, like the deed to a house. None of this is up to him. At all. To paraphrase Elvis Presley: he’s caught in a trap, he can’t walk out, because the mobsters own him baby.

As for Vladimir Putin, while he may have started as an intelligence operative, and he may pretend to be a diplomat and statesman on the world stage, his true profession, at this stage of his career, is mob boss—probably the most powerful mob boss in the world, more powerful even than his longtime associate from back in his Dresden days, Semion Mogilevich. (There was, and is, a lot of blur between IC and OC in Russia.)

Putin and Mogilevich are two foci of the small circle of oligarchs—there are subtle distinctions, but for all intents and purposes, oligarch is basically just a euphemism for mobster—who own almost everything of value in Russia. In mafia states, the mob runs the show—charging protection for businesses, taking bribes, imposing restrictions on airports, seaports, etc. The Russian mafiya is closer to the East India Company administering the entire colony of British India than some Scorsese picture. It steals from the people, and manipulates the weak central government, to keep itself in power.

(Sidenote: per Robert I. Friedman’s Red Mafiya, Mogilevich has complete control of Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow. So if a self-styled NSA “whistleblower” contrives to spend 40 days there avoiding the media, coughEdSnowdencough, you can be damn sure the “Brainy Don” authorized it).

An ex-KGB chief, Putin succeeded Boris Yeltsin as president in 1999. He’s been in charge ever since. Under his reign, Russia has regressed from a burgeoning democracy to a veritable dictatorship. Putin consolidated power, destroying the independent judiciary, clamping down on press freedoms, using false-flag operations to win popular support, and exploiting his power for personal gain. He is more like a tsar than a president—although the Romanovs did not possess nuclear weapons, and their wealth, obscene as it was, paled in comparison to Putin’s own.

Bill Browder, the American-born British national who was an early investor in Russia after the collapse of the Soviet Union, and who left the country after the government became too corrupt to continue doing business there, tells a hair-raising story about Putin: After the rise of the oligarchs in the early 2000s, Putin had the richest, most powerful oligarch—Mikhail Khodorkovsky, head of the energy concern Yukos—arrested. At a humiliating show trial during which the accused oligarch was kept in a cage, Khodorkovsky was found guilty of fraud. He was sent to prison, and his sizable assets seized.

After this sobering display, the other oligarchs approached Putin and asked what they needed to give him to avoid the same fate as Khodorkovsky, whose fate none of them wanted to share. Putin replied: “Half.” Since then, ill-gotten gains have poured into his coffers. The oligarchs boast fabulous wealth, but by virtue of claiming half of their money, Putin bests them all. Browder has suggested that Putin may well be the world’s richest individual.

And if this all sounds like the world’s greatest mob boss making the world’s biggest mob-boss flex, well, you say “tomato,” I say whatever the Russian word for “tomato” is. Whatever he might have been before that series of power moves, Putin emerged afterward as a no-doubt-about-it mob boss. Khodorkovsky, the fallen oligarch, himself said as much, in a recent interview.

Whether Putin is more powerful than Mogilevich is anyone’s guess. But only one of them is concurrently the head of state of a G8 country, one of a handful of nations that has nuclear capability—and, despite what revisionist historians at Fox News would have us believe, America’s chief adversary since 1945.

Donald John Trump’s association with the Russian mafiya—as opposed to the homegrown Italian one—began, best as we can tell, in 1984, when the Soviet soldier-turned-mobster David Bogatin purchased five of his condos for $6 million. Trump Tower was one of just two buildings in all of New York City that allowed units to be purchased by shell companies. Fishy deals like this did not deter Trump, who had traveled in underworld circles all his life.

By ’84, as covered previously, Trump was already a Confidential Informant for the FBI. He’d been on the radar of the KGB since 1977, when he married the former Ivana Zelníčková, a Czechoslovakian national who someone managed to emigrate from that Eastern Bloc country to Canada. As Luke Harding writes in his masterful and must-read book, Collusion (excerpted here by Politico):

Zelníčková was born in Zlin, an aircraft manufacturing town in Moravia. Her first marriage was to an Austrian real estate agent. In the early 1970s she moved to Canada, first to Toronto and then to Montreal, to be with a ski instructor boyfriend. Exiting Czechoslovakia during this period was, the files said, “incredibly difficult.” Zelníčkováa moved to New York. In April 1977 she married Trump.

According to files in Prague, declassified in 2016, Czech spies kept a close eye on the couple in Manhattan.…There was periodic surveillance of the Trump family in the United States. And when Ivana and Donald Trump, Jr., visited [her father] in the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic, further spying, or “cover.”

Like with other Eastern Bloc agencies, the Czechs would have shared their intelligence product with their counterparts in Moscow, the KGB. Trump may have been of interest for several reasons. One, his wife came from Eastern Europe. Two—at a time after 1984 when the Kremlin was experimenting with perestroika, or Communist Party reform—Trump had a prominent profile as a real estate developer and tycoon. According to the Czech files, Ivana mentioned her husband’s growing interest in politics. Might Trump at some stage consider a political career?

The KGB was really, really good. Are we to believe that the Soviets would not at least try to use Ivana—and her father Milos, stuck behind the Iron Curtain in the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic—to get to Trump? Would not some cooperation be expected as the price of her being allowed to emigrate in the first place?

The Russians began to actively cultivate Trump in 1986, soon after his landmark real estate deal with Bogatin. As Harding tells it, Trump was invited to Moscow by Natalia Dubinina, the daughter of the Soviet ambassador to the United States, whom he met at a luncheon in New York in ‘86. The following year, he took her up on the offer. “On July 4, 1987, Trump flew to Moscow for the first time, together with Ivana and Lisa Calandra, Ivana’s Italian-American assistant,” Harding writes. “Moscow was, Trump wrote, ‘an extraordinary experience.’ The Trumps stayed in Lenin’s suite at the National Hotel, at the bottom of Tverskaya Street, near Red Square….The hotel was linked to the glass-and-concrete Intourist complex next door and was—in effect—under KGB control. The Lenin suite would have been bugged.”

Donald John Trump was a textbook KGB mark. The agents must have been drooling. Harding cites an internal memo circulated by the agency at the time, advising how to spot potential recruits: “Are pride, arrogance, egoism, ambition or vanity among subject’s natural characteristics?” Like a great baseball prospect, Trump was a five-tool player. Harding continues, writing about the internal memo:

The most revealing section concerned kompromat. The document asked for: “Compromising information about subject, including illegal acts in financial and commercial affairs, intrigues, speculation, bribes, graft … and exploitation of his position to enrich himself.” Plus “any other information” that would compromise the subject before “the country’s authorities and the general public.” Naturally the KGB could exploit this by threatening “disclosure.”

Finally, “his attitude towards women is also of interest.” The document wanted to know: “Is he in the habit of having affairs with women on the side?”

We don’t know what, if any, kompromat was gathered on that first trip to Moscow. But we do know that Trump is a serial philanderer, with a taste for Eastern European women. This wasn’t exactly a state secret; by ‘87, he was already a tabloid legend. Are we really to believe that the KGB—arguably the best intelligence agency in the world at human intelligence gathering—would not have tried to honeypot him?

It was upon his return from that fateful Moscow trip that Trump began to branch out in his interests. “For the first time he gave serious indications that he was considering a career in politics,” Harding points out. “Not as mayor or governor or senator.

“Trump was thinking about running for president.”

And indeed, in 1988, Trump flirted with the idea of entering the presidential race, going so far as to deliver a speech in New Hampshire. He toyed with running again in 2000, on the Reform Party ticket, even hiring his old friend Roger Stone to run the exploratory committee before ultimately dropping out. Is it really a coincidence that his dormant political ambitions manifested themselves immediately after his Moscow trip, and never went away?

So, yes, the Soviets were absolutely, positively recruiting Trump on his 1987 visit to Moscow—which began, not coincidentally, on the Fourth of July (Russians love that kind of symbolism). But the KGB was not the only spy network interested in the real estate developer. The trip also attracted the attention of the Central Intelligence Agency and the National Security Agency—the latter, by this time, becoming the bigger outfit, owing to the emphasis on signals intelligence collection that began in the late seventies.

As the pseudonymous mob expert known as Lincoln’s Bible put it, during our recent telephone conversation: “It’s 1987—the height of the Cold War. Ronald Reagan is president. The Russia desk is the largest, most important desk in the largest intelligence agency in the world (the NSA). And Trump was already a top echelon Confidential Informant for law enforcement. How could they not have known about that trip? It would have been gross negligence not to have known.”

And if our intelligence community knew, would they really not bother interviewing Trump upon his return from Moscow? He’d been wined and dined by the Party elite, after all, and they would have wanted to hear all about it. Beginning in 1987, then, Trump was not only a Confidential Informant for the FBI, but was also being utilized by the CIA.

Again: the two intelligence services were really fucking good. If the KGB was all over the guy, the CIA would have known, and thus taken some kind of action. “There is no universe in which he wasn’t being surveilled/tracked and used by our guys,” Lincoln’s Bible told me. “Not one that I can see.” If so, Trump’s counterintelligence file is over three decades old.

Moscow also marked a transition of sorts. Ownership of the mob asset known as Donald Trump began its gradual transfer from La Cosa Nostra to the Russian mafiya. Not long after the trip, Trump spent time aboard the Lady Ghislaine, the yacht owned by the British publishing magnate Robert Maxwell. That sounds perfectly above board, until you consider that Maxwell, born Jan Hoch in Czechoslovakia, was a seditious little fucker. His classified dossier at the British Foreign Office described him as “a thoroughly bad character and almost certainly financed by Russia.” He was affiliated with Israeli intelligence and the KGB. He was business partners with Semion Mogilevich, so he was mobbed up. And his daughter, Ghislaine Maxwell, would in 1991 begin a long and scandalous relationship with Jeffrey Epstein. For all we know, nothing untoward happened on that yacht. But given the nexus of key OC figures—Mogilevich, the two Maxwells, Epstein—it is hard to write it all off as mere coincidence.

Four-and-a-half years after Trump’s visit to Moscow, the USSR fell. Rapacious “oligarchs” raced to gobble up the country’s wealth and natural resources. Untold billions, maybe trillions, of dollars were removed from Russia, most to banks in quasi-Western places like Cyprus. This created unprecedentedly vast opportunities for willing money launderers in the West—and Donald John Trump was well positioned to benefit from the windfall.

Trump needed the help. By the early nineties, his casinos were going bust, US banks had stopped lending to him, and he desperately needed Russian capital to stay afloat. My business professional contact who lived in Russia explains what likely happened, incrementally, over the next two-and-a-half decades:

Take someone who cannot get credit from a bank headquartered in the English speaking world because he’s already burned every major US and UK bank in New York and London. Canadian banks don’t take American risk that American banks won’t take and Australian banks won’t touch him because their government blacklisted him from doing business in the country. But he has a massive cash need because if he does not have lines of credit to keep servicing his previous debts and his lifestyle and his next big thing, he can’t attract investors into his businesses to keep the ball rolling.

This is a critical point. Trump is not just greedy for his own sake. He has to keep earning, or he will have outlived his usefulness to his mafiya whoremasters. His very life depends on his ability to do deals.

The professional continues:

So Trump needs money that doesn’t ask a lot of questions. He’s happy to pay extra—and pay it he will—because in his mind interest comes without cost: he can write it off his taxes, or he can flush it in bankruptcy, or he can pass it on to his customers, or he can get his investors to give him enough to wash it all out, or he can refinance if and when the straight lending world comes back to him. He’s happy to take Russian money because in his mind, it’s an asset to him to have Russian lenders; it makes him more likely to play the real estate market in Russia.

But he knows that if his name and a Russian lender’s appear on the same finance document, that’s discoverable: by the IRS, by the agencies he probably reports to, by the gaming commissions, by the state regulators, by his ex-wives, by his last set of creditors, by the next bankruptcy trustee he has to deal with. So how does he get money from a Russian bank into his pocket, and how does he repay money to the Russian bank, without leaving that paper trail?

Simple. He does not borrow directly from the Russian bank. He borrows from a straw-man bank, like Deutsche, and has the Russian bank act as a silent guarantor.

The Mazars and Deutsche Bank documents almost certainly contain damning information that confirms all of this, and that will collapse his Trump Tower of Cards—which is why Trump has moved heaven and earth to keep them secret.

Whoever ultimately controlled the dirty rubles in the nineties, when Trump first opened his doors to the Russians, in the twenty-tens the kopek stops with Vladimir Putin. Would any Russian bank be able, in this day and age, to funnel hundreds of millions of dollars to Deutsche Bank, or any other straw-man bank,” without Putin’s awareness, if not approval? If you borrow money from a loan shark, but the transaction is made through your local branch bank, guess what? You’re still borrowing money from a loan shark—and in that world, the penalties for nonpayment are brutal.

In the event, by the time Trump began his presidential run in 2015, the transition was complete. He was no longer a creature of the Italian mob. He was fully owned by the Russians—by Mogilevich and the mafiya, and ultimately by Vladimir Putin. The president really is Putin’s puppet, just as Hillary Clinton claimed.

What’s more, plenty of people in the intelligence community and the Justice Department know this is the case, because they have seen his counterintelligence file, or have worked with Trump in his capacity as CI. Robert Mueller must know. James Comey must know. Andrew McCabe must know. James Clapper and John O. Brennan must know. And while all of these individuals have dropped hints, none save Mueller have produced actual receipts—and a lot of his Report remains redacted. It’s no accident that Trump has done everything in his considerable power to impugn these people. He knows what they have on him, so he must attack their credibility.

To wit: When Lisa Page texted Peter Strzok that Trump is “not ever going to become president, right? Right?!” and Strzok replied, “No. No he won’t. We’ll stop it,” they were discussing national security, not Democrat/Republican politics; two of the FBI’s best Russian mob experts were highly, and rightly, concerned that an asset of a hostile foreign power would win the White House. No wonder Trump wants us to believe their text exchanges were romantic in nature, and constantly frames Page and Strzok as lovers—the truth could end his presidency.

Alas, Page’s worst fears were realized. The President of the United States answers to the Kremlin. That sounds like something from a bad movie, but in the time of the worst pandemic in over a century, it has immediate, and grave, real-world consequences.

“We have been taken over,” Lincoln’s Bible said, “and a quarter of a million innocent civilians are going to die because of it.”

***

As with “Tinker, Tailor, Mobster, Spy,” this piece was written with a lot of help from Lincoln’s Bible.

Photo: President Ronald Reagan Shaking Hands with Donald Trump and Ivana Trump During The State Visit of King Fahd of Saudi Arabia at The State Dinner in The Blue Room, 2/11/1985. From the Reagan Presidential Archive.

#greg olear #putin's puppet #covid times #organized crime #america is broken #lincoln's bible #long reads

[whatelsecanwedonow]

“Radical empathy”. I like it—I think. If I’m understanding what you mean by just those two words lol... I’m just over/about half way in (though I do know some details of what happens in the back half). Im very curious of your thoughts. Maybe you could answer in broad strokes before the cut then free for all spoilers... and pls tag so that I can come back to it!) I gotta finish, but rn I’m building up to facing the “rat king” or w/e bc I am a massive baby and am v scared lol.

Thank you for asking!! I’ll tag this for you and put it all under a cut, just in case:

Good luck with the rat king, lmao. Nasty ass motherfucker. But the game itself, my thoughts are that it’s built game ever. Every mechanic, every movement, every control interface feels so smooth. It’s all fluid and instinctual. You can feel the detail to creation in everything. My favorite thing may be the sound design, though... the score, the ambient sounds, the sound of gore, the way that different environments feel so naturally different... everything is so real. It’s mastery. I’m already thinking about what this game is going to look like on the PS5 remaster.

As for story, yes, radical empathy!! Not my original idea but it absolutely is what this is all about. This is the darkest, most emotionally distressing... media/art experience? Ever? Surely for me and perhaps objectively, for most people. This game is unrelentingly harsh. It’s physically taxing. It’s extraordinary deep and the detail at every single level is absurd. It feels so natural in the way you inhabit it and live within the world as these people that the line between observing and participating in something is so blurred... obviously that’s the trick of a video game of this caliber, but you feel truly as if you’re an active participant with agency to make decisions in TLOU2, instead of being limited to observing what is to come. The first game did this well, but this game takes it to levels that, again, blur that line so much... I think that’s storytelling taken to a new and profound level.

And there’s all that depth and darkness meant to take you on a journey that in the end, I think. is meant to communicate not just the futility of violence, the sickening reality of the cycle of violence and how it can consume anyone. It’s saying that the best thing we can do, the bravest thing we can do, is care enough to forgive those who have wronged us most. At least, see them as people, see them as people who are equal to you. In every person is a universe, and all people have their own motivations, their own pain, their own trauma. And if you acknowledge that and overcome violent impulses that’s a radical act of empathy that can save so many people. Not the least of whom is the person who may have right to vengeance.

I’ll get more specific here: I think a lot of people are upset that Joel was killed so early on. I think they’re upset that we played so much of the game as Abby (Who I don’t love by the end, but I understand, and care about and like well enough). And it also seems they’re upset that Ellie didn’t bash Abby’s head in, or choke her out in the ocean. Well if you can’t get over that Ellie didn’t murder Abby I don’t think you get ANYTHING this game is trying to do. Killing Abby would destroy Ellie, probably forever. Murdering all of Abby’s friends already took her to the fucking brink. I think Ellie’s villainous actions in Seattle are very much akin to what we never saw Joel do, in the 20 years between Sarah’s death and Boston. She’s been broken. She was broken before going after Abby in Santa Barbara. If she had killed Abby and left Lev to fend for himself and possibly die alone, do you think she’d ever again be able to look who she’d become? She would see herself as being just as evil as Abby was to her. As evil as Joel was before learning to love Ellie. And it’s the thought of Joel, the changed man, the man who changed for and because of her that compels her to take her heroic stand. To spare Abby and refuse to go down the same road and perpetuate the cycle of violent loss.

And I hope it doesn’t seem that I’m taking Joel’s death lightly with those thoughts, I loved Joel. Watching Abby brutalize him and literally beat his brains in was stomach-turning. I identified with him so much not just because he’s a dumbass but because he loves Ellie like I love Ellie as a character. He sees that Ellie is a spectacular, hilarious, wonderful person who has known almost nothing but pain and hurt in their awful world. All he wants is to give her a chance at a world of happiness. And in protecting her and caring for her, in trying to create the opportunity for that happiness to grow, he can find redemption that he thought would never come again after losing Sarah. "If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment...I would do it all over again." That fucking broke me to pieces. Even though I think Joel and Abby’s father are both guilty of taking Ellie’s agency as a person away from her - why did it never occur to either of them to ask the girl at the center of this procedure whether she thought she should die? She was 14, so it’s arguable that she would have understood the gravity of her decision, despite the guilt of what happened with Riley...  but Joel at least did what he did from a traumatized, if selfishly-born, place unconditional love. And the reveal that Ellie knew since two years prior to the main story, I think it proves that she was at least beginning to understand his motivation. As conflicted as she was, as much as it hurt that he lied, she loved him too.

I’ve read thoughts from a few people who have interpreted this the same way that I did, and this is just interpretation... clearly the game is completely ambiguous with the ending. Ellie is, literally, all alone in the world as she leaves the farm. She could be heading off to wander aimlessly as some sort of TLOU Mad Max/Road Warrior. But that would break my heart, lol, I don’t think I can accept that. She’s learned something profound in sparing Abby. I don’t think I can ever accept that she’s just going to drift as an empty shell of what she used to be forever. I think she wants to honor Joel by attempting to live the life both of them wanted to have: one of purpose and meaning, but also lasting happiness and love.

So I find hope in that the game begins and ends on that animation of the moths. At the start of the game it represents Ellie being draw into the fire, into the futile flames of vengeance and revenge. At the end the moths represent her being drawn towards the light - she’s been freed and has made peace with herself and Joel, and is leaving the farm to embrace the goodness inside her and honor the lessons she’s learned. The same growth Joel found by loving Ellie. The same growth Abby found in sparing Ellie and Dina, which is no small parallel to Ellie/Joel in the way that it was Lev that saved Abby from falling into a spiral of violence that she may never have broken free of again.

Ellie’s will always be traumatized, but she’s so much wiser. Two fingers lighter but so much wiser. And now she’s off to Jackson to hope that Dina can find the strength to forgive her. And Dina definitely went back there, by the way, she wasn’t about to try and survive on that farm by herself with JJ. Jesse’s family said she was always welcome, if you read Ellie’s journal you’ll see that was said. So I think, with time, they can work through the pain. It’ll take some unbelievable forgiveness on Dina’s part but Dina is emotionally strong and incredibly empathic. Did you notice the one thing Dina took from Ellie’s art room? She took the portrait that Ellie created of her. She didn’t let go, not entirely. And now I’m going to choose to believe that Ellie won’t ever again, either.

And she’s going to learn to play guitar pseudo-lefty with a pick and tear shit up again. 👌

#The Last of Us Part II #tlou spoilers #tlou2 spoilers #tlou 2 spoilers #i intended to control myself and then... i didn't #Anonymous

[yourdeepestfathoms]

A Little Piece Of Heaven (part one)

[Tour!verse]

TW: Surprisingly not many...I guess mockery of religion, specifically Christianity and anything in that branch. Very minor mentions of self harm (like one time- if you blink you’ll miss it). But mainly this fic is just psychological.

———————

Lord of The Flies

Let’s get something clear really quickly: Joan Meutas was not religious. Did she used to be? Unfortunately, yes, but after seeing the world for what it really was, after getting an axe to her vagina from her beloved husband, she has realized that there was no merciful God who would save lost souls. It was all a hoax by crazy old folk from wherever Jerusalem was to herd people into one belief, thinking that it may make them more humane and friendly. But religion has done more harm than good- Christianity damns all non CIS heterosexuals to hell, Jews got murdered by the thousands, that one branch literally won’t eat anything besides fucking grain or some shit, Catholics are just rude as all hell, those fasting things literally cause people to STARVE TO DEATH, and for what? To appease some higher being? Do they truly think they will be saved? If God was so merciful and wonderful and kindhearted, why would he make things like murder and cancer and rape and torture?

Joan even once heard that the Bible stated that when a woman was on her period she had to leave her village and wasn’t allowed to come back UNLESS she had a turtle dove. She’s never read the Good Book before, so she doesn’t know if that was true or not, but it doesn’t sound unlikely given all the stupid rules she’s heard about.

So, no, Joan was not religious.

It’s strange, she thinks, how offended people get when she says it or simply hints at it. Their eyes will practically bug out of their skull and they probably pray for her “lost soul”, maybe even do that weird cross gesture on their chest when they think she isn’t looking. They look at her as if she was actually a demon spy loosed from hell and not just someone who has enough common sense to realize that an “all powerful father” was complete and utter bullshit.

That’s the thing- it’s like the word “atheist” was purposely made to seem like the most evil string of letters to ever be created. You know the words- those synonyms that just sound much worse than the actual root phrase (molest, slaughter, moist). Atheist just has this dark shade to it. Or so religious people say.

But enough of that! There’s a reason why such a taboo subject is being brought up.

Joan was going to contact Death.

As they say, desperate times calls for desperate measures. And desperate Joan was.

You see, her queen- Jane Seymour- used to be quite the woman. Sharp, beautiful, powerful, but also warm behind the closed court doors. Joan was very lucky to see this side of her as her youngest lady in waiting, often getting called gentle pet names and sometimes pats on her head if she was particularly lucky that day. As a touch-starved orphan servant, this was like a pot of gold to Joan- love and affection is something she’s craved long before reincarnation in the modern world. And, speaking of the resurrection, Joan thought she would get even more of Jane’s “Mum Treatment” since they had more time on their hands, but she was very, very wrong.

Jane...Jane was different. She changed. No longer was she the motherly, caring, strong woman from the past, but instead coming back as some reduced version of herself- slightly younger (24, 25, maybe even 23), more awkward and timid, and much less maternal. The way she now looked at Joan wasn’t with compassion, rather...plain curiosity, sometimes even aversion. Her memory of her young lady in waiting has waned- it was as if she didn’t remember that Joan had been at her side the whole time when she was bedridden after giving birth to Edward! Like she couldn’t conjure up the remembrance of a teenager literally watching her rot away and slowly die for days!

To say the least, Joan was not happy. Add in trauma, insomnia, hate on social media, constant stress and pressure from her profession, and a severe lack of friends and you can probably see why Joan was going to such extreme measures.

Now, she knew about the stories. She’s read The Monkey’s Paw. She knows about the consequences of one’s actions. Joan wasn’t going into this completely stupid- have some faith, will you?

Gambling with Death was a risk. A huge risk that could very well end with her soul being ripped out of her mouth or her flesh being worn by a supernatural being that then goes on to commit atrocities under her identity. And not only was it a massive risk to take, it was also very, very stupid.

If I have to spell it out for you, listen closely: Death knows things. A lot of things. They don’t call him the “Lord of The Flies” for nothing. Which is why he loves to play games for those desperate enough to contact him because he knows he is much smarter than whatever pathetic, miserable piece of useless garbage comes clawing at a mirror, begging him to reveal himself. And unless you have every secret of the universe, you’re probably going to get ass-blasted back to Tuesday.

Oh, what am I saying? You won’t get a second chance.

You’ll be long gone by then.

And whatever state the cops find your body in the next morning depends on whatever mood the beast was in.

However, in Joan’s case here, she is desperate and stupid enough to take the risk. In her eyes, she doesn’t have much to live for. She’s a slave to SIX- day and night she’s working endlessly over musical paperwork and the same songs over and over and OVER again. It doesn’t help that she isn’t the closest to the rest of the cast and is often left alone when everyone else goes out and has fun. The scars on her wrists are evident of how many nights she’s been alone.

Without Jane, she has nothing to live for. She needed her.

And that’s exactly why she was sitting on the floor in front of a mirror propped against the wall in the dark theater surrounded by candles and a semicircle of salt.

Joan has done a lot of studying up to this point. She knows she has everything correctly, now she just has to get Death to appear...and hope he doesn’t immediately pull her small intestines out from her throat for bothering him.

Joan stares into the mirror as hard as she can, closes her eyes, then counted to ten. Her eyelids lingered shut for longer than she would like to admit after she hit the number one, but she eventually pried them open.

It was not her reflection staring back at her.

To be honest, Joan wasn’t exactly sure of what she was expecting to see. Some parts of her believed nothing would happen, other parts convinced itself that a grim reaper-like figure or a horned, goat-legged demon would be kneeling on the other side of the glass wielding a scythe or pitchfork. However, a suit-wearing young man was not really something that crossed her mind in her theories.

If Joan wasn’t a lesbian, she might have found him attractive, but he definitely was at a straight woman’s perspective. Perfect smile, the most amazing cheekbone structure, unflawed olive skin, neatly combed brown-blonde hair, a broad chest, phenomenal shape- if it weren’t for his yellow eyes with slit pupils, he might have been the perfect lady’s man (although, knowing straight women, they probably wouldn’t care for his demon eyes- after all, you don’t need to see someone’s peepers to suck cock!).

Joan sat completely bewildered, all of her confidence draining and being replaced with dread that drenches her like a thick, dark oil spill. She can feel her hands, which are lying in her lap, starting to tremble and clenching her fingers doesn’t help at all. The ability to form a coherent sentence slips from her mind, so Death speaks first.

“Hello, Joan Meutas.”

This guy is the real deal. He pronounced her last name correctly!

Joan opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water and Death is thoroughly amused by her sardine impression. He watches her through the glass, waiting patiently for her to learn how to enunciate again.

“H-h-hello-”

“Yes, yes, h-h-hello to you to,” Death laughed. He wasn’t directly trying to be cruel, but Joan’s self esteem was far enough into the ground to hear his jibe as a mockery of her understanding of the English language. “If I let you speak the whole time we are going to get nowhere! Pull yourself together, kid. You should see the look on your face! You look like you just got caught making out with the family goat!”

Joan’s expression remained one of fright.

“What? Didn’t you own a goat back in- god, what year were you born? 1517 or 1525? Historians paint it as both! But I thought a family farm animal was the big rave back then! I apologize- I need to catch up on the modern slang. Say, would you be considered a ‘boomer’? Because I have been DYING to use that phrase on someone who contacts me. Could you imagine it?” He warps his voice into one of a pruny old woman, “‘I wish for great fortune!’ ‘Okay Boomer.’” Death bursts into fits of maniacal laughter that sounded as if a thousand lost souls were chortling together at once.

Joan is still silent, but during Death’s monologue she was able to wire her brain back to functionality. She sits up a little bit straighter and Death notices, so he containers himself instantly, also fixing his posture.

“Ready to talk now?” He asked.

“Yes.” Joan answered.

“Wonderful,” There’s a glint in his piercing yellow eyes, “What is it that you desire of me?”

Joan gathers up all her courage, sits up a little taller, and says, “I desire to challenge you to a game of question-and-answer.”

The glint flares into a blaze of confidence. If Joan stares hard enough, she swore she could almost see the fires of Hell burning in his eyes.

“How fun,” The words ooze out from Death’s pale lips, soaked in liquid menace. “Shall I go over the rules?”

Joan nodded. She knew them, she knew she did, but it would be good to hear them one last time.

“Very well,” Death said. He cleared his throat and began speaking as if he were reading off of a manual, “Death’s Gambit: A two-player game between the Lord of The Flies himself and a human. After being conjured- just gonna skip over that process, you’ve clearly got it down, kid- and initiating the game, both parties will have sixty-six minutes and six seconds to answer as many questions correctly as possible. Anything can be asked- trivia, personal inquiries, riddles, even dares, as long as the salt circle is not exited. The catch of the whole thing is this: The Prince of Darkness is obligated to tell the truth only if the human answers correctly to his question or does a requested dare or the human manages to stump him. However, if he answers correctly or the human answers incorrectly to HIS question, he may lie about whichever question he wants. The score will not be revealed until the very end once the time is over. If the human wins, the Keeper of Souls MUST grant any one wish they have. If He-Who-Lies wins, the human will be the victim to whatever losing punishment he comes up with. Remaining rules include: The salt circle cannot be left- you may find yourself no longer in your dimension-, the game cannot be quit until the time is over, items like watches or phones are not permitted to be used to look up answers or keep track of the time. Good luck and Beelzebub be with you.”

Despite knowing this all already, hearing it out loud, spoken by the beast himself, made it all hit home for Joan. She was really doing this; she was gambling with Death.

She had to be the stupidest fuck to ever grace God’s green earth.

“Are you ready to begin?” Death asked.

Joan took a deep death and answered, “Yes.”

A wicked smile curled on Death’s lips. The candles around Joan blaze.

“The game is on.”

A dark feeling weighed down on Joan after that was spoken. The air around her seemed to shift. Her gut was screaming at her to run away, to hide, to do something other than just sit there, but she couldn’t move. Not from fear, but from sheer will. She couldn’t be stupid. Who knows what lurked outside her thin salt circle....

As he usually did, Death initiates the game and asked his first question.

“What was the name of Catherine Parr’s true love?”

Like that, a cold stone drops deep into the pit of Joan’s stomach. Of all the questions she expected him to start off with, Tudor history was not one of them. It startles her, takes her by surprise, and she realizes very quickly that that’s exactly why Death asked it. He’s trying to disorientate her right off the bat and weaken her before she has the chance to get some points in.

She could not let that happen.

It’s just that- she didn’t know Tudor history outside of knowledge on her queen and whatever is said in the show. The others certainly did talk about their past lives, but Joan- she-

It stung, to say the least, when she realized that Death knew about her nonexistence friendships with the queens. And that he was targeting that.

“Thomas Seymour.” Joan finally said.

She was pretty sure that was the right answer...but not completely positive. And, because of that, her worried mind began to scream doubts inside of her brain.

Was that a trick question? He’s supposed to be the embodiment of pure evil- wouldn’t he think Henry is Parr’s true love? Was Henry the right answer?

“Your turn.” Death said, not reacting to Joan’s answer, which scares her even more.

“What’s- why did you choose to show up in that body?”

“Oooh, you’re starting with a personal inquiry!” Death said, laughing, “How fun! And I hope you’re not flattering yourself, Joan- I don’t look like this to make your pussy wet. Trust me, I could look way more attractive, but I know you.” Those three words slither into Joan’s ears and made her shudder. “Isn’t the whole point of being a lesbian to not be attracted to men?” Death laughed again, “But I look like this because I want to. I can take whatever shape I want! Remember that one time I was a snake? That was weird. Although, peeping at a naked chick was pretty damn fun. As a lesbian, you could probably appreciate the sight.”

For just a moment, the image of Death disappears, the mirror hazes to white, and Eve appears. Not the paintings you always see- THE Eve, bare breasts and vagina and all, and if Joan weren’t also asexual, her own genitals may have been burning with desperate pleasure.

“She was a sight.” Death said, returning to view. He chuckles, then immediately goes to his next question, “What was the exact height of Mount Everest in the year 1666?”

Joan’s heart just about stopped.

How in the holy hell was she supposed to know that? Then again, that was probably the point of asking such a thing.

“Three...hundred feet?” It came out as a question, but it’s taken as an answer and Death doesn’t react except for a slight twitch of his nose. “What...is the hardest piece to learn on the piano?”

“Liszt.” Death answered smoothly. “What animal can see the most amount of colors?”

“A...dolphin.” Joan physically cringed at her answer. “Who wrote Liszt?”

Is this what she was going to be doing the whole time? Asking the King of Hell fucking piano trivia?

“La Campanella.” Death once again answered perfectly. “What is the full chemical name for the antidepressant and anti-anxiety medication, Zoloft?”

Wasn’t that the medicine Joan was supposed to take for her anxiety?

“I- I don’t know.”

Death just hummed and awaited his next question. He didn’t laugh at her like she expected him to, which slightly lightened the blow of her stupidity.

“What’s my favorite song in SIX?”

“None of them. Why did you stop taking your Zoloft pills?”

The answer followed by such a question felt like Joan was just punched in the stomach with a spiked gauntlet. She swore she was winded by some unseen force (probably shock). Her breath hitched in her throat and she seemed like a little kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I-” She hunched her shoulders around her neck. Death is giving her a curious look, which was at least better than worry or concern. “They- they weren’t helping me...so I didn’t think there was a point taking them if they weren’t going to fix me.”

Death hummed once more, this time louder and more enthusiastic. He clearly liked her answer.

“Interesting,” He mused, then quiets himself for the next question.

“What’s standing behind me?”

Ever since the game began, Joan picked up on the presence of something staring at the back of her head. She could feel their eyes burning into her skull, sometimes even breathing on the back of her neck.

Death smiled. “See for yourself.”

Joan saw nothing in the reflection, just darkness beyond the candles and Death, and she was not about to go and look away. She was scared about what would happen if she turned her gaze away from the mirror for even a second.

When Death realized Joan wasn’t going to fall for his tricks that easily, he quirked an impressed eyebrow and moved on.

“Will you greet the worker who just came in?”

Joan glanced fearfully to the corner of the room. A figure is hunched there. The glow from the candles just barely licks at their claws.

“What was their name? Terrance?” Death said, “Doesn’t he work in lightning?”

“That’s not Terrance,” Joan murmured.

Death took it as an answer, it seems. He leans in close to the glass and when he whispers, his hushed tone is right at the back of Joan’s ear.

“You don’t want to know what he really is.”

Joan can feel a panic attack rising in her chest. Death is trying to scare her, stray her from answering coherently or correctly and get her to waste time by freaking out. She had to steer the game back into calmness.

Or, rather, however calm a Devil game could get.

“What do I have in my pocket right now?”

Death seems a little bothered that the cryptic theme was interrupted, but he gets over it.

“One black pen that’s almost out of ink, a granola bar you promised yourself you would eat, and a rosary you stole from Aragon.” He said, “Oh and, by the way, that isn’t going to protect you from me. So return it as soon as possible or Aragon is gonna be PISSED!” He laughed, imagining the storm the golden queen would cause if she caught Joan with such a precious belonging.

Joan swallowed thickly. She didn’t want to check her pockets. She didn’t want to know that he was right.

“What is the color of the sky?”

It seemed like an easy enough question, but Joan, believe it or not, knew better than to fall for such a simple trick. She wracked her brain for a moment, then answered, “Black.”

Death doesn’t react aside from licking over his dried lips. His tongue is too pointy. Joan moves on.

“Does Jane care about me?”

Honestly, the question kind of surprised her. It bubbled up from her throat from out of nowhere- yes, she had been wanting to ask it so badly, but she didn’t actually expect it to come out.

“Yes.” Says Death.

For a moment, joy bursts through Joan, but the metaphorical, celebratory confetti is sucked up by the vacuum of doubt.

Is he lying? Is he giving me false hope? Or is he telling the truth?

“What’s your blood type?” Death asked.

“A...AB.”

Like Joan fucking knew that.

“What’s my favorite color?”

“Blue.” Death smiled, “Because the blue sky would always remind you of opportunities for a better life.”

A shiver runs down Joan’s spine. She didn’t like how he knew that.

“What’s something that you can’t eat for lunch or dinner?”

He’s asking a riddle. Joan bit the inside of her cheek, thinking.

It couldn’t be a food. That was too easy.

Think, Joan, think!

“...Breakfast.”

Death chuckles. Joan doesn’t know what to think of that.

Twenty minutes pass by in a blur. Cold sweat soaks Joan’s brow, dripping down her face, but she’s too scared to move from her stiff position. Her back muscles hurt from sitting like a statue for so long- how the hell does Death look so relaxed? Then again, he doesn’t really have much to worry about.

He doesn’t have to worry about the possibility of being mutilated or dragged to Hell or that that figure in the corner has been getting closer and closer as the minutes passed by.

“Do you think every human deserves to live?”

The question came out of nowhere, really. Death had been asking mostly trivia up until that point. He tittered at Joan’s stunned expression, then raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Well?”

“No.”

Joan didn’t hesitate because she knew it was the truth. Not everyone deserved to live. Rapists, pedophiles, serial killers, racists, homophobes, terrorists, abusers- they didn’t deserve life. People like them deserved to die.

And anyone who doesn’t believe that is a fucking idiot.

“Do YOU think every human deserves to live?”

Death scoffed. “Of course not.” He peered at Joan, really analyzing her for the first time. His yellow slit eyes raked over the girl, making her feel uncomfortable and violated. “You know, you and I think a lot alike. Not many humans give ‘no’ as their answer. They think optimism will make them seem like a good person. It’s pathetic.”

Joan just nodded silently.

“Now...where were we? Oh, yes.” Death leaned in, “Which queen suffered the most?”

Joan furrowed her eyebrows. The whole point of the show was to not compare, especially traumas, but...

“Katherine Howard.”

Come on- clearly K Howard had it the worst. The girl was violated by four different men before she was an adult! None of the other five stories combined could possibly rank to the fifth queen’s suffering.

“Honestly, I think the same!” Death said, “I mean- what is UP with the whole ‘one of a kind, no category’ gimmick? How stupid! Last time I checked, being a victim of sexual abuse doesn’t make you ‘one of a kind.’ Why would you even think of it that way?“

Joan nodded slowly.

“I agree,” She said, “Um- here’s my next question: Is this question false?”

Death raised his eyebrows and cooed in obvious interest.

“True.” He said, smirking. “My turn. Do you resent the queens?”

Joan actually recoils. Death laughed.

“I-”

Did she? Did she resent the queens? Surely she didn’t... She couldn’t! The queens were perfect! How could anyone ever hate them?

“No.”

Death almost looks disappointed.

“What’s worse than death?”

“You’re living it.”

Cold sweat drips down Joan’s face. It stings her eyes and is salty on her tongue. She hears noises all around her, but doesn’t dare to look. She already knows “Terrance” is on his knees beside the salt circle and his leaning his face in right next to hers. She can smell the rot on him.

“Have you ever wanted to hurt the queens?”

Death’s questions are definitely ramping up in darkness. Was the time close to ending? Is that why he’s getting deeper?

Joan shut her eyes tightly for a moment, but opened them quickly when the fear of losing sight of Death nagged at the back of her mind. Before her, on the other side of the mirror, the being is waiting patiently, eagerly for her answer.

“Sometimes,” Joan breathed, “Yes.”

Death smiles a wicked smile.

“How interesting,” He purred, then gestured for Joan to ask her question.

“Does God exist?”

“Unfortunately.” Death groaned, then laughed. He inspected Joan again. “How would you hurt the queens?”

Joan felt her stomach ache. She didn’t like that question. She didn’t want to think about actually hurting the queens, even if she’s considered it one or two times before.

“I- I haven’t really given it any thought.” She answered, then quickly sputtered out her next question before Death could comment, “Does the Bible speak the truth?”

“Of course not.” Death said. “My next question is this: If I were to give you a task, would you do it?”

“Depends,” Joan said, “What would the task be?”

Death held up both arms in a shrugging motion. “I don’t know! Pick up my dry cleaning? It depends! Don’t put me on the spot like that!” He then laughed that horrible laugh again. Once he contains himself, he says, “Time is ticking. The game is almost over. I want to switch things up before we end. I have a dare for you.”

Joan nods.

“Stab yourself in the hand.”

That flush of icy cold dread floods through Joan’s system again. Every part of her being screamed at her to refuse, there will be other offers or questions she could make up for, but she knew that was just false hope. Like Death said: time was almost up. She couldn’t risk refusing and docking more points (if she isn’t in the negatives already, that is).

“Fine.” She forced out through her teeth.

She reached for the pen in her pocket, but Death held up a hand.

“Don’t use that inky thing,” He said. “It won’t get the job done. Please- allow me.”

He flicked his wrist and a large carving knife appears out of thin air and clatters to the floor in front of Joan. She stares at it for a moment, then picked it up, setting her left hand down in its place. She took a deep breath, screwed her eyes shut, and plunged the blade down.

Joan couldn’t choke back the scream that burst from her lips. She cried at the pain, sobbing in horror when she looked down to see the knife practically pinning her hand to the floor. Dark red blood pools around her fingers, gushing and spurting like spigot from the wound when she pulls the blade free. She cradled her wounded hand close to her chest, weeping weakly.

“Very good,” Death cooed, clapping.

Joan raised her eyes slowly and Death smirked at how lit up they were, almost like hot coals.

“I have a dare for you.” Joan growled, her voice low and dangerous.

“I accept.”

“Change your eye color to blue.”

For a moment, Joan swore she saw the slightly twitch on Death’s features. She watched him close his eyes, sit their silently for a moment, then open them again.

They were still yellow and slit.

“I cannot.” He said. However, he wasn’t angry or irritated at being stumped, rather amused. “Next...what is the flying speed of a swallow?”

Joan ripped off of a strip of her shirt and wrapped it around her bloody hand, hoping it would be a good enough substitute for real bandages for now.

“African or European?”

Death grinned. And that grin only grew wider as the candles around Joan went out until only the one behind her remained lit.

"̸̡̢̢̣͓͚͖̪̼̪͑͊̈́͋̀́̾͗͘ͅT̷̼̺͈̮̜͔̙͂̋̉͋͛̈̿̀̕͜͠͝i̸̢̹̙̼̠͓͚̖̗͔̮̔̌͂̓̐̊̈́̔̃̕m̸̡̱̤̱͙͎̦̱͙̪̻̓̅͌̉̀̈́̐̄͒̌̕͘͝e̸̟̳͒'̸̗͎̞̙̋̎̓́́͑̉͐͑̈́s̷̰̬̙͖̲̩͚̥͈̝̩̻̻̮̭͂̀̐̓̑̓͌̓̀́̐̐ ̷̡̳͍̗͉̝͔̃̑͛̀͊͌͆̌̒̃̔͘̚͠ͅû̵̞̠̣͉̻̖̅̓̄̏͝p̷̛͖͎̮̖͇̬̮͉̥̲͈̟͊̃́̃̏̇̇͛͗̅̕͘,̷̢̧̧̹͈̗̝͙̪͉̖̆̈́ͅ ̸̲̩̥̇͂̓͌̀̋͗̀͛̚J̵̼̣̋ö̴̡͕̺̪̠͓̹͔̂͝ą̶̡̜̭̤͖̭̫̝̘̆̂̾̐͊̾̒̂̏n̶̛̛̬̦̥̠̮̐̓̃̋̍̒̂͐̂̽ͅ.̴̪̰̩̀͊̑̐́̂͗̍̐̈́̚"̴͍͆͛́̈́̈́̍͆̀͗͘͝͝

It was almost impossible to breathe. Joan can barely hold herself together- the tears are flowing freely and she can’t get them to stop. She would say a prayer for her damned soul if it weren’t for the whole atheist thing, and she worried that Death would get angry at her for it, even if it was said in her mind, which he couldn’t possible read (or, at least, she hoped he couldn’t).

Still, she bowed at the waist and thanked Death for the game.

“Let’s tally up the score, shall we?”

Joan first saw blood start to spread across Death’s midsection, then a sharp sting struck her in the stomach. She hissed in pain and lifted her shirt slightly, as did Death, and they both saw tally marks upon their flesh.

Death had twenty-three.

And Joan watched in shock as a twenty-fourth tally carved down through her skin right before her eyes.

“Congratulations, Joan Meutas,” Death says, “You’ve won. What is it that you wish for?”

#six the musical #six the musical tour #six uk tour #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #six fic #six ff #tour jane seymour #jane seymour #tour joan on the keys #joan on the keys #tw: religion

[itsclydebitches]

Lovely Good Omens fandom! Many of you have asked for/mentioned having a text version of the Yelp reviews, which if I were a better person I would have remembered to include in the first place. Better late than never? So here’s a version below and I also threw this up on AO3 so there are options. For the record, I’m not at all trained in transcribing visual media, so if anyone wants to add to/edit/do whatever to this post, especially to make it more accessible, you have carte blanche to do so 👍

Also I typed this up in a hurry so, as always, apologies for any typos. 

Tagging: @lethargicdolphin, @marithlizard, @pearwaldorf

A.Z. Fell and Co. Antiquarian and Unusual Books 

Recommended Reviews 

Lindsay F. 

London, United Kingdom 

71 friends

3000 reviews

9874 photos

So I slipped into this place because I spotted my ex across the street and would have rather chugged a cocktail of bleach, lighter fluid, and a condensed solution of all my middle school years then talk to that asshole. Owner was on me the second I walked through the door and I thought he was gonna be one of those ‘Either buy something or get out’ types. Nah. I spilled the story, said I really wasn’t looking to purchase anything, and he LIT UP like nobody’s business. He gave me tea and promised I’d never run into my ex again. Which is a super sketchy promise on its own and also should have been hilarious coming from a guy a century behind in style.

...Kinda believed him though. 

Marina G. 

London, United Kingdom 

0 friends

33 reviews

48 photos

Pretty sure this guy wants a library, not a bookshop. I mean, he’s nice and all when you first come in, but trying to actually buy a book? Good fucking luck. He’s too busy to see you right now (for the record he’s super bad at pretending to be busy). Or claims that this book has already been put on reserve (then why wasn’t it in the reserve pile...?). Or the price suddenly jumped an obscene amount. Or he just straight up hems and haws until you get fed up and leave. I watched him pull a novel straight out of a woman’s hands once when she claimed that price was no object and she wouldn’t be leaving the store until she’d purchased it. You’d think she was trying to kidnap one of the guy’s kids!

So yeah. Feel like popping in to browse, maybe take pictures for your research, all while making quiet conversation with someone who quite frankly knows his stuff? This is the place for you. Want to actually buy something? Go elsewhere. Pretty sure Fell doesn’t even own a cash register. At least I’ve never seen one. 

He wants a library and I’d honestly tell him as much if he didn’t scare me just a little bit...

Aaron S. 

New York, NY

68 friends

212 reviews 

337 photos

I stayed here for three days once. Found a bathroom off the romance section and a chair hidden away in the back. Way comfier than my mattress at home. Mostly played iPhone games and kept real quiet at night. Experiment ended when I popped out for breakfast and didn’t make it back before a random 10:00am closing. Don’t think the owner ever realized what was up. 

Hana S. 

London, United Kingdom 

112 friends

115 reviews

208 photos

I really love this place. I’ve been coming here since I moved to London, about twelve years ago, and it’s one of the most soothing bookstores I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. Yeah, you hear talk of weird things going on at Fell’s, but really? We could all do with a bit more quirky in our lives. And Fell provides that in spades: Annual plants that never seem to wither, let alone die. The smell of incense mixing with cocoa. Strange books tucked horizontally into the shelves, feeling like they have a touch of magic to them. Nonsensical conversations taking place in dark corners (I’m talking candid chats about the apocalypse and whether angels could actually bless all the rains down in Africa. I swear Fell and his boyfriend are the religion Mythbusters or something.) I’m going to sound like a total nerd here for a moment, but it feels like some sort of liminal space. You know when you were a kid and you were just desperate to receive your Hogwarts letter? Or find your own wardrobe to Narnia? That’s what walking into Fell’s feels like. Like you’ve finally found that portal and can stay as long as you like, provided you don’t try to take anything back with you into the ‘real’ world. Hell, maybe that’s why he won’t let anyone buy his books. 

Robert T. 

Union City, CA

4 friends

26 reviews

3 photos

There’s a snake?? In this shop?? A reALLY MASSIVE SNAKE????? What are y’all doing talkin’ about your meet cutes and shit someone call pest control!

Malini D. 

London, United Kingdom 

0 friends

48 reviews

99 photos

I’m not gonna pretend I have anything to say about whether this is a good bookstore or not, but if you ever want knitting help you should definitely stop by. Mr. Fell knows an absurd amount about crafts for a guy who looks like my grandpa and he’s now replaced Youtube as my go-to for alleviating “Omg please fix this how the hell did I manage to reverse the pattern??” panic. For the record, I didn’t just wander up to a random bookseller one day and demand that he help me salvage the ruins of my first sweater. I’d taken a seat inside to wait out a storm, had my messy sleeve stuffed into my purse, and he’d offered the help. Bit of a bastard about things like gauge and color--not everyone wants to wear tartan, dude--but you get used to that. He means well. Said I should come back to show him the finished piece, which I did. Things just kind of spiraled from there. He’s an absolute treasure trove of knowledge once you get him talking and a muffin to boot. If he were twenty years younger and in any way straight I would have asked him out in a heartbeat. As it is I’m considering setting him up with Grandpa. 

Tiffany L. 

London, United Kingdom 

132 friends

312 reviews

34 photos

I’m not really a book person myself but I followed my wife in with our seventh-month old and was kinda embarrassed when he started making a fuss. Normally I’m full Badass Mom mode while in public--I’ve got a kid to feed, change, sooth, and you all can damn well deal with it--but this place was so quiet Liam seemed extra loud in comparison. I was about to take him back out when a man appeared out of nowhere. The owner I guess, based on how some of these other reviews describe him. Older gentleman with clothes out of some period piece. Anyway, he scoops Liam into his arms like he was born for it and started bouncing. Our fussy, temperamental, drama queen Liam settled in an instant and my wife got to browse to her heart’s content. I don’t know how he did it, but that man is an absolute angel. Full stars for that moment alone. 

Gillian L. 

The Hague, The Netherlands

283 friends

256 reviews

60 photos

Anyone know if the old Bentley parked out front is for sale? 

Update: It’s really, really, really not 

Billy H. 

Austen, TX

40 friends

2073 reviews

774 photos

QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS SO MANY QUEER BOOKS!!!

Gabriela G. 

London, United Kingdom

3 friends

22 reviews

1 photos

Run by this delightfully frumpy guy who sometimes hands out biscuits from a sewing tin like my gran used to. He asked me if I was looking for anything in particular and I told him my name was Jared, I was 19, but sadly I’d never learned how to read. I have NEVER seen a man more confused in my life. 10/10 would meme him again. 

Colie A.

Enola, PA

201 friends

2778 reviews

10382 photos

I’m setting the record straight here since there are a bunch of reviews claiming it’s just London folklore: there is a snake at A.Z. Fell’s. Must be an exotic pet he usually keeps upstairs because I’ve only ever seen it twice. Is it big? Yes. Scary? Fuck yes, but I’ve never seen it do anything more than give a warning hiss at this drunk who wandered in and started yelling. (Are snakes good guard dogs? This one is.) The other time he was just chilling on top of one of the shelves. Snoozing, I guess. I asked Mr. Fell if I could pet him and he said maybe after he woke up, but then I had to get to class and all. 

Afraid of snakes? Steer clear. Otherwise I’d really recommend popping in and seeing if he’s around. Idk, maybe I’m just a snake fan but he looks super sweet and chill. Life is short. Boop the snake snoot. 

Jeremy W. 

London, United Kingdom 

86 friends

409 reviews

12 photos

I live down the street from A.Z. Fell’s and let me tell you, this place is spooky as fuck. All sorts of weird lights and noises coming from it. At all times of the day and night too. Either this bowtie wearing bookworm has one crazy sex life or the place is haunted. Jury’s out on which. 

Heather Ki. 

London, United Kingdom 

0 friends

3852 reviews

1 photos

This shop smells. Not that old book smell either, oh no, but like something is molding. I took my little Johnny in here to try and get him interested in something other than those damned video games and I walk into what smells like a whole cloud of toxic mold! My boy has a weak constitution as it is and if he comes down with anything I will be pressing charges, you mark my words. 

Jo. W. 

London, United Kingdom 

32 friends

410 reviews

61 photos

Hey, does anyone want to talk about the fact that this place burned down last month? As in, completely up in flames, I saw it happen, nothing but a smoking husk afterwards? Does no one else remember this??

Tiggi N. 

London, United Kingdom 

32 friends

33 reviews

24 photos

Has anyone read this guy’s opening hours? I included a photo above: “I open the shop on most days about 9:30AM perhaps 10:AM. While occasionally I have opened the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1.” Absolutely insane. This guy’s a madman and I love him. If anyone actually manages to get into this place please let me know because I need to shake Fell’s hand. 

Mackenzie J. 

City Centre, Manchester, United Kingdom 

807 friends

2592 reviews

13218 photos

I told my girlfriend this shop’s got a snake named Anthony and she didn’t believe me. Going back for proof next week. 

Update: got the snake selfie!!!!!!!!

Penny O. 

Chicago, IL

87 friends

557 reviews

16 photos

Caught the owner snogging some hot twink behind the cookbooks. Well done, my dude. 

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #good omens fic

[phantomjellies]

the adventures of peter parker, intern extraordinaire, touring his own home, ft. embarrassing avengers (chapter five)

read on ao3 or continue below

Peter had never hated Shuri more than he did right then and there. 

He didn’t really hate her, just...strongly disliked what she was doing at the moment. Which was typical — the two of them were constantly pulling useless and elaborate pranks, running around quoting vines, and using their resources to wreak extreme havoc onto the Avengers. But it was all in jest, and the two of them really were friends. 

But, friends can still want to kick each other in the head sometimes. 

He turned around and came face to face with an evilly grinning Shuri, dressed in that stupid shirt they found that just said “fuck y’all, i’m gay” in rainbow comic sans, black jeans, and light up heelies. 

“You’re a walking meme,” he said dryly. 

She sent him some finger guns before jumping at Peter and wrapping her arms and legs around him. He stumbled backwards, tempted to just fall and melt into the floor, but he decided, no, I’d like to keep some of my remaining dignity. 

“Shuri, I swear to God, get off of him.”

“MJ,” she whined, drawing out the letters, “he’s my husband!”

“One — you’re gay, and two — he’s my boyfriend.”

Shuri sighed loudly and released her koala hold on Peter, stepping back and surveying the class. 

“Shit, is this your class?” she asked, grin widening. 

“Yep,” MJ said, popping the p. Peter shot her a look that he hoped expressed his sense of betrayal. “This is the merry band of nerds, otherwise known as the Midtown AcaDeca team.” She paused. “Except for Flash, who has been far from merry this entire trip, probably because he’s annoyed that he’s wrong, but hey, we all make stupid mistakes, right?”

“Like that time Peter-”

Peter cut her off by lunging towards her, slapping his hand over her mouth. 

“We don’t need to hear anymore stories — fuck! Shuri! You just licked my hand!”

She shrugged. 

“You put your hand over my mouth, I lick it. Sorry mate, that’s just the way the world is.”

Dr. Rodriguez cleared their throat. 

“Princess,” she started pleasantly, “I know you’re royalty, and, truly, you and Mr. Parker do make an amusing pair, but this is a tour. So, either join in and be quiet, or you can kindly leave us to continue. The choice is yours, my dear.”

Shuri mimed zipping her lips closed, slinging her arms around Peter and MJ and dragging them over to Ned. She might’ve been completely immune to the bewildered stares of Peter’s classmates, but he was not, and he shrugged out of Shuri’s grasp, crossing his arms and resolutely staring straight ahead. 

Somehow, Shuri managed to stay silent while Dr. Rodriguez finished talking to them, and even sat in silence while Dr. Palmer answered questions. 

It wasn’t until they were back out in the hallway that she grabbed Peter’s wrist and yanked him up to Grace, grinning widely. 

“Graaaaaace,” she sang, throwing her other arm around her shoulders. “Where are we going next?”

“Dinner, my dude. Teenagers gotta eat, you know?”

Peter stole a glance backwards at the rest of his class, who were all not so discreetly intently watching him and Shuri, or whispering to each other. 

“Ugh, that’s no fuuuun,” Shuri whined. “Can’t we go to, like, another lab?” She turned towards the group, grinning wildly. “Who wants to go to another lab, huh? Preferably one where we can blow shit up?”

“Fuck yeah,” someone said, and there were murmurs of agreement throughout the crowd. 

Grace rolled her eyes. “Shuri, this is a tour. They can only go where I’m allowed to take them.”

Shuri pouted, but then realization slowly dawned on her, and her face lit up again as she whirled around to face Peter. 

“Peter, my dear friend, one who I love so much, would you be willing to take us humble tour-goers up to the fun labs?”

“Okay, one; you are not a part of this tour, two; the intern labs are fun, and three; I can’t just take everyone up to the labs. That’s literally not how this works.” 

“Well, I mean, with permission from the right people…” 

Peter shot Grace an exasperated glare. She sent him a pleading look. 

“Fine” he groaned. “I’ll ask. If he says no, he says no, and that’s final, okay?”

Shuri and Grace cheered. 

Peter stepped away from the group, taking in a deep breath before clicking Tony’s contact. 

“Hey, kid. Aren’t you supposed to be touring?”

“Yeah. But some people don’t know how to leave others alone, so now I’m being peer-pressured into asking if we can come up into the higher labs.”

“What, like my lab?”

Peter sighed. “I don’t know. Can you just say no? We haven’t cleaned the lab in forever and I don’t need them seeing all that shit.”

“Okay, first of all, watch your language-”

“Fuck you.”

“And second, if you think I’m going to let a bunch of dirty teenagers into my lab-”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

“-You’re absolutely correct, I love showing off. Tell them to come right up.”

Peter blinked in surprise. 

“Oh no,” she said, hanging up and turning back to the group. “What a shame. He said no.”

“Actually, Mr. Stark has invited your group up to his lab.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Friday? You’re just gonna snitch on me like that?” 

There was no response, and Peter let out a long groan, running a hand over his face. 

“Yeah. Whatever. He said yes. But uh, there are a few kinda sorta classified things? So if y’all wanna just go to dinner I need to head up and make it...not classified.”

“Did you just call Tony Stark on your phone?”

“What? I -- yeah. Are you surprised by that at this point?” Peter shook his head. “Whatever. I’ll text someone when everything’s okay.” He looked directly at Shuri. “FYI, I’m mad at you.”

“Oh, boo-hoo. Get over it.”

Peter flipped Shuri off before turning on his heel and walking into the elevator. He rode it up to the lab, because really, the place was a mess, and he didn’t need his team to see last night’s calculus homework and the formula to his webs both projected in the air, with his handwriting on both of them. They might’ve been an oblivious group of teenagers, but they certainly weren’t dumb. Peter turned off all incriminating holograms, putting away the random tools littered throughout the workspace and cleaning up the dishes and coffee mugs left behind. He was in the middle of trying to figure out how to make it seem more like Tony Stark’s workshop rather than a place that Tony Stark and local nerd Peter Parker fucked around and made the occasional genius upgrade when he heard the door open. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the tour?”

“Yeah, well, someone decided to let a bunch of teenagers run rampant in their lab, so I’m here to make sure you don’t accidentally blow my cover.”

“I was going to do that.”

Peter glared at Tony. 

“Well I’m already doing it.” 

“Place looks nicer than it ever has. Haven’t seen that patch of floor in years.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, sighing as he waved away another hologram full of random scribbles and a very bad illustration of Captain America drawn by Tony. 

“This isn’t like...your lab anymore.”

“Workshop,” Tony absentmindedly said, picking up a piece Peter had thrown into a bin. “Lab sounds too sterile and uptight. This is a place where ideas are born and jokes are told. This is a place of legends, bro.”

“Never say bro again,” Peter said, shaking his head. “But anyway, this is...more our lab. Workshop. Like, it’s not just your space that I use sometimes. It’s both of our ideas combined.”

“Yeah. And?”

“And that doesn’t bother you? That some nerdy teenager is taking over your space?”

Tony sighed exasperatedly. “Kid, how many times do I have to tell you that I chose to let you in here. I’m Tony fucking Stark. I’m the boss of myself.”

“Technically Pepper’s your boss.”

“Yeah, okay, if Pepper says no that means no, but still. I’m the one who let your scrawny ass run your mouth off in here.”

“My scrawny ass can kick your ass, so I’d watch your mouth, old man.”

“Not the old man again,” Tony whined, chucking a screwdriver at Peter. He caught it, sighing and setting it in a drawer.

“Can you at least hold some form of lab safety when my team is in here? ‘Cause, like, they’re all gonna post about this in some way on social media, and I don’t really think you want ‘Tony Stark throws screwdrivers at teenagers’ trending on Tumblr.”

“What the hell is Tumblr?”

“Nevermind.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Hey, where’d all your work go?” Tony asked, cashing Peter to glance back at him. 

“Oh, I just dismissed the holograms for now. I was going to bring them back afterwards.”

“Why? It’s your work too. I’ve gotta show off my favorite intern.”

Peter shook his head. “Tony, no. It’s your workshop. That’s what they’re expecting. Not more of my ramblings.” 

“Bullshit. They come to Tony Stark’s workshop, they get Tony Stark and his intern. We’re a package deal now, buddy. No escaping it now.” 

Tony crossed the room, placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders. 

“Kid, you deserve to be in here just as much as I do. And your ramblings? Genius, all of them. So I say fuck what they want, we’re gonna give them the reality. And that includes your work and your stupidly legible handwriting.” 

“Pepper really struck a nerve there when she mentioned the difference, huh?”

“My handwriting is not illegible,” Tony scoffed. “It’s aesthetically pleasing.”

“For who? It looks like word spaghetti.” 

“You know what? I take it back. I’m banishing you from the workshop. You come in here and call my handwriting word spaghetti? I kick you out.” 

“That’s like the fifth time this week you’ve kicked me out of the workshop. I dare you to actually do it.” 

“Can’t,” Tony said sadly. “You’ve made me soft. Little bastard.”

Peter rolled his eyes, a fond grin on his face. 

“You sure you want them all in here?”

“Pete, I really just want to show them that you’re better than all of them.”

Peter choked, eyes widening. 

“You what?”

“Nothing. Now go join your little tour group again. I’ll finish in the lab. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that nothing exposes you.”

“Fri?” 

“I’ve got you, Peter.”

“Good to know someone still loves me.”

Tony flipped Peter off. Peter stuck his tongue out at him in retaliation and walked out. 

#rin's writing #god it's been a long time #but hey #i did it #irondad #field trip fic #marvel