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heaven-s-black-box · 5 months

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Notes- Red Vs. Blue Royalty AU pt.1

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Recovery date: August 14th, 2023

Description: N/A

Notes: Here is the next entry. Here is the final entry.

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Church and Allison are the king and queen

Their children (yes plural) are aged as follows: Carolina, Alpha (Leonard The Second) and Epsilon, Delta, Sigma, Gamma, Eta and Iota, and Theta

Alpha is set to run the kingdom next, Carolina joined the guard/army because she had no interest in ruling, she's mad that Alpha is crown prince not because she wants to run the kingdom but because Leonard never even asked her. He never asked her because he could see she had no interest. They butt heads a lot because of this miscommunication.

Allison was the youngest general in the army, Leonard was so nervous that he almost didn't ask her to marry him. In the end, he did it completely accidentally, and she said yes. He fainted.

Freelancer AI pairings= guard and assigned royal

In this AU South and CT Guard Eta and Iota because Carolina isn't babysitting them Florida guards Alpha, Wash guards Epsilon, York guards Delta, and North Guards Theta Carolina doesn't need a guard, she's a freelancer she can guard herself

479 is the cavalry captain

Hargrove tried to set Felix up with Carolina (political marriage between kingdoms) and Leonard was going to shut him down but Carolina said only if Felix could beat her in a duel

York found out and joked that he should fight Felix for her hand in marriage (they're not so secretly courting) and Carolina said sure

This is how York loses his eye in this AU, Felix blinds him on his left and Carolina jumps out of the royal booth and kills him

Extra: Carolina tells York the only time he'd ever see her in a dress was on their wedding day, she kept to her word

The reds and blues are new cadets that get sucked into another one of Leonard II "escape" attempts (just because he wants to be the crown prince doesn't mean he likes all the lessons and crap)

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dragcnbreak · 9 months

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vent edit based off my pinned post

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leonardleonardchurch · 1 year

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possible ghost hobbies:

-ghost mario kart

-ghost painting

-ghost ping pong

-ghost charades

wait all these things require objects or another person. huh. i see what you mean

We actually can play mario kart. I just, uh, run it on my me. But I’m not… allowed to play anymore.

Look, everyone else is just a sore loser, okay?

#(he tried to throw the controller at the tv but we dont use controllers so he just threw eta. were not allowed to play multiplayer games)#church transmits #??? transmits #rysingsun

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mynameismckenziemae · 2 months

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Take it right there

Jake ‘Hangman ‘ Seresin x You

This was written for #leahsgalentinesdayspecial (put on by @ohtobeleah thank you!)

Song: Like a Wrecking Ball by Eric Church

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, unprotected p in v, talks of spanking, masturbation, teasing…I think that’s it, let me know if missed anything!

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

They say the first year of marriage is the hardest. This is true for you and Jake, but not for the reasons one may think.

Living together wasn’t the problem; you’d shared an apartment for 18 months before he proposed. It wasn’t combining and sharing finances either; you each contribute fairly and spend wisely.

The hardest part is that Jake has been deployed for 3 and a half months out of your 4-month marriage.

The wedding had been perfect; it was everything you dreamed of. The honeymoon was even better. Just thinking about what the two of you got up to in your room, the private pool, the cabana at the beach, the cramped bathroom of the glass bottom boat…sends a shiver down your spine and an echoing heat between your thighs.

But just a short week after you got back, Jake was called out with no ETA given. You had just gotten the keys to the fixer-upper you bought and weren’t even all the way moved in when Jake got the call that Sunday morning.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Sweetheart?”

“Please don’t tell me that was Simpson and you’re getting called out. Please?” You whine, dropping the paintbrush you’re holding back in the tray.

“How’d you know?” He asks, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“I could hear it wasn’t good by your voice,” you murmur, leaning into him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to go either. I’ve got some good news though. We don’t leave until Tuesday morning and Simpson gave me and the rest of the squad off until then. They’re already on their way over to help us get the rest of the house cleaned up and painted so we can get everything else moved in and set up before I’m gone,” he murmurs against your neck before trailing up to your ear.

“No, they don’t have to do that, I’m sure they’ve got other things to-oh,” you sigh as he nips your earlobe and presses his hard-on into your short-clad bottom.

“I didn’t even have to ask, sweetheart. Roo was texting the group chat before I even got off the phone,” he assures you.

“But-“ you protest but he interrupts.

“No ‘buts’ about it, Mrs. Seresin. They’re already on their way. Now shush or I’ll spank yours before they get here,” he jokingly threatens, patting your butt and stepping away.

“Mhmm, sure,” you tease, calling his bluff.

You smile at his sharp inhale.

“You think I’m kidding?”

You gasp when he grabs your ponytail and pulls you back against him.

“Bend over that step ladder and I’ll show you how serious I am,” he says lowly, sucking a bruise behind your ear before he pushes you toward it.

But you’re saved by the bell; the doorbell that is.

“Oh no, that’s too bad. They’re here,” you smile at him smugly as you turn to answer the front door, but he grabs your wrist with a dark chuckle as you walk past.

“You’re not off the hook that easy, sweetheart. You know what I do to naughty girls. After tonight, you’re gonna think of me every time you sit down for the first few days that I’m gone.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

He wasn’t kidding. But you love pushing his buttons until he does something about it

You cried when he left that Tuesday morning, like every other deployment but this one just hurt more; popping the bubble of your newly wedded bliss.

In the time he was gone, there were a handful of rushed calls, texts here and there, and two video chats; one that was private and so hot, the other in his shared bunk so you keep it appropriate, kind of.

“Hey, sweetheart. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Jake says, eyes widening when he sees you. You’ve got your phone propped up while you’re sitting on the bathroom vanity in just a bathrobe, hair wet around your shoulders. “Just a heads up, Bradshaw’s in here. Whatcha doing up there?”

“Hey baby, just painting my nails. Does that mean I have to behave?” You lift your head to look at him with a smirk.

Jake nods as Bradley shouts, “No! Tease him, honey, make him pay for leaving you!”

You laugh. “Miss you, Roo.”

“Miss you too!”

You tell Jake about your day and then about the work you’ve done around the house, shaking your head when he asks to see it. “I want it to be a surprise.”

“Alright, can’t wait to see it. And you,” Jake sighs.

“I can’t either,” you reply, keeping your voice even as you slide your robe off your shoulders, baring your naked chest. “Any word on how much longer?”

He doesn’t answer, too distracted by you as you spread your legs and dip your fingers between.

“Jake?” You ask again.

He snaps out of it when your fingers stop. “What? No, sorry. Haven’t heard anything yet.”

“Damn. Hopefully not too much longer,” your eyes fall close as you push two fingers in, rubbing your clit with the heel of your palm.

His face flushes red as he watches you quietly bring yourself to orgasm; talking about the new restaurant you want to try, without bringing any attention to what you’re doing.

His expression turns pained when you lick your fingers clean in between telling him about what kitchen cabinets you want.

“5 minute warning guys,” Rooster’s voice filters through the phone.

The warning is nice but the moment is gone.

“Love you, sweetheart, hopefully be home soon.”

“I hope so. Love you too.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

That was 2 weeks ago and you are sick of waiting. Fed up. Finished. Done.

Sighing, you look at your ugly kitchen cabinets and get the perfect idea for your frustration.

You smile as you bring the heavy sledgehammer in from the garage, but just as you’re about to bring it above your head, you hear Jake’s voice.

“Sweetheart?”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You drop the sledgehammer to the floor before you run into his open arms.

His back hits the wall when he stumbles back a few steps from the momentum.

“Sorry,” he murmurs against your lips as a picture frame shatters, knocked off the wall by his shoulder.

“You can buy me a new one tomorrow, I just need you to fuck me,” you pull back from his lips to latch onto his neck.

His head hits the wall as you mark up his neck. “Let’s…bedroom?” He pants.

You nod your head and hum in agreement but make no move to climb off him.

He drops you on the bed when he finally reaches the bedroom, unbuttoning his pants as you slip your leggings off and you’re pulling him on top of you before he can kick his off his ankles.

“Wait, I wanna taste you, get you ready,” he protests as you rub the head of his cock through your arousal.

“I’m ready. I’ve been ready for the past 105 days,” you whine, hands each gripping a handful of his ass and pulling him into you.

“Fuckkkkkk,” he groans as he breaches you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“So big,” you whimper when he’s finally all the way in.

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” he pants against your neck, giving you a moment to adjust before pulling out just to push back in, again and again with deep, steady thrusts.

The bed begins to creak as he fucks you at a punishing pace, mingling with the sounds of your shared pleasure.

“More, Jake! Please, I’m so close,” you plead, fingers digging into the thick muscles of his back.

His hips stutter at the bite of pain but he recovers, tilting his hips so that his pubic bone brushes your clit with each stroke.

“C’mon, be my good girl, get there for me,” he begs.

A broken cry rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes into you, triggering Jake’s release. He cums with a low groan, painting your insides white.

A few minutes go by before he lifts his head to press a kiss to your lips. “I love y-oh shit!”

There’s a loud crack and all of a sudden the mattress is on the floor.

Jakes's wide eyes meet yours before you both burst into laughter.

The bedframe broke.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Jake helps you get cleaned up before helping you to your feet.

“So, what were you planning on doing with that sledgehammer?”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

A/N: I hope y’all like it ☺️🥴

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs.

Tagging those who may be interested:

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

@mrsevans90

#leahs galentines day special #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw

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dduane · 11 months

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Birdwatching

It's a nice sunny morning over in Illkirch-Graffenstaden (outside of Strasbourg) and business as usual appears to be proceeding at the peregrine falcons' nest there.

The mother (or just "falcon": males are called "tercels" due either to being a third smaller than the females, or due to an old myth that only one of every three eggs hatches out a male) just spent five minutes or so fiddling around with the twigs and junk on the platform in front of the nest. These may have been brought by the idiot pigeons that keep trying to nest there even while the falcons are in residence. The falcon's attitude at that point seemed to be one of "Where the F did this stuff come from, I don't remember bringing any of this here..."

When she got bored with that she got back into the nesting shelter and scratched the nest materials around a little: then did a bit of a squat-and-wiggle and settled herself over the egg. (There seems to be just the one: you can see it there under her wing.)

...And there she sat for a couple minutes more, until something made her get up and start observing the space around the church spire very intently. Quite soon after that she plainly saw something that concerned her, went straight to the edge of the platform, and leapt off into the air to have a better look at whatever it was. She hasn't been back since. (That was about fifteen minutes ago.)

Here's the live cam on YouTube. WARNING: turn your sound DOWN before going there. The wind noise is genuinely deafening.

ETA, 1:07 Strasbourg time: And oh FFS, here are the pigeons. We've stumbled into a bird-based soap opera.

I'm going to be sooooo interested to see what the falcon does when she gets back and finds them there. It's going to amaze me if these dingbats don't get killed and eaten, sooner or later.

...And here the tercel (whose name is apparently Valentine) comes back and sees the pigeons off. ("Lou", one of the commenters on the feed, grabbed the video...)

...Valentine then stands there shouting in indignation for a couple of minutes. Well, who could blame him.

(Also, noting the red smudge on his lower breast feathers. Looks like he may have been hunting.)

(ETA: there's another view of the nest, from inside the nesting box and above, here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99QErpXgXBU)

#Faucons Pèlerins Illkirch #Strasbourg #France #falcons #peregrine falcons #Falco peregrinus

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suzukiblu · 1 month

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Match/Tim + a baby for @eulaliafluffboll.

Tim is used to solving problems, and has experience with teen pregnancy in the community.

He does not have experience with accidentally knocking up one of his teammates' evil clones. And yes, there are two teammates with evil clones, that is actually an actual thing in his life, but Inertia he's at least presuming is cisgender and also hasn’t ever tried to–never mind. Not the point.

Really, he probably shouldn’t have assumed Match was cisgender, really, or maybe he’d have been a little bit more prepared to avoid this situation to begin with. And Inertia probably doesn’t understand the concept of rape by deception any better than Match does, considering. But Tim’s been . . . avoiding that particular thought, for now. He has other things to worry about. Like, for example, tracking down a pregnant supervillain who’s pregnant because of him.

Or . . . was pregnant because of him, maybe, given how long it’s been since anyone last saw Match. Not that Tim has any idea how half-Kryptonian clone biology may or may not affect gestation, or if the fetus was even viable at all, or if Match might’ve miscarried or just had an abortion, or . . .

Tim exhales.

If it was viable and Match kept it–carried it to term, he means–then he must’ve also kept it. Match is methodical and careful and thinks things through, and he’d know he couldn’t just abandon an infant with Kryptonian DNA at a hospital or church or anywhere like that.

. . . he’d probably know.

Would he care, Tim wonders, not for the first time. If he carried the baby to term . . . he would, wouldn’t he? Otherwise, why would he have carried it?

He isn’t optimistic enough to think Match would try to protect the baby from the Agenda or his own lifestyle, even in such a desperate and unlikely to succeed way as just giving them away to people who had no idea about their genetic heritage. But he also knows Match isn’t with the Agenda right now, or at least wasn’t two weeks ago when he last hacked their systems.

Tonight’s plan is to hack them again, because Tim’s out of leads and the Agenda has been looking for Match too, so if they have any leads–

Then he gets a phone call on the current burner he’s keeping for Young Justice, and it’s . . . a little bit distracting as a call, maybe.

“Alvin,” Cissie greets very, very calmly from the other end of the line. “Why is there a newborn baby sleeping in my dorm room right now?”

“Why are you asking me that?” Tim asks as he goes very, very still. It might be a trap, he tells himself. It’s probably a trap. Or a distraction. Or–

“Because it came with a note attached, and that note was literally just an ‘R’ scratched into our wall,” Cissie says. “A very specific ‘R’, for the record.”

“ETA eighty minutes,” Tim says, then cuts the line.

It might be a distraction. It’d make sense if it were. Match is methodical and careful and thinks things through. And he’s a liar, and good at lying.

But of course Tim’s still going, either way.

#dc match #tim drake #dc robin #rape mention #past dubcon #eulaliafluffboll #rinfic

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thorraborinn · 10 months

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Thinking about trolls (+elves, huldufólk, others) in light of Eduardo Vivieros de Castro. I'm not willing to say that pre-Christian Scaninavians were perspectivists in Amazonian style, but I do think that looking at Norse religion and later Nordic folklore through that lens is productive.

I'm mostly using the word troll as kind of a catch-all (which is not unlike how Scandinavian folklore uses it, though Icelandic folklore does not).

There are two main fears concerning trolls: that they will eat you, and that they will marry and/or fuck you. In Levi-Strauss's time that might have been seen as symbolically reducible to the same fear, but I think we can learn more by examining them in their distinction.

I dunno that I can summarize Vivieros de Castro's points here, but I'm reading from Cosmological Perspectivism in Amazonia and Elsewhere: Four Lectures given in the Department of Social Anthropology, Cambridge University, February-March 1998.

In western ontology we humans are like animals in that we have bodies, but what distinguishes us is the soul (or the rational mind, or whatever, the details change over time but the point is something distinctive about our interiority), so that for, say, Christian missionaries, "because the spiritual is the locus of difference that conversion becomes necessary (the Europeans wanted to know whether Indians had souls in order to modify them)." Sverrir Jakobsson says that Icelanders bought so heavily into the [Christian : Heathen] distinction as the primary ordering principle of the peoples of the world that they had trouble recognizing, or even outright denied, that there was an East-West split in Christianity.

In perspectivist ontologies this is flipped, the locus of differentiation is the body, because the interiority of everything is the same, difference comes from inhabiting different bodies. If you could acquire the sight of a jaguar, you would look at a puddle of blood and see a nice cold beer (but you would also be dangerous to humans, because you would see them as game animals). The resulting anxiety is cannibalism. If everything is the same in underlying essence, it becomes necessary to engage in an active practice of differentiation to avoid eating something that is the same as you. Ritual specialists who can transform into animals are sometimes bad hunters because they are too deeply engaged in this paradox.

The fear of marrying a troll (or elf, whatever) is the fear of spiritual conversion. This is sometimes made explicit: "I don't want to live with elves; rather, I want to believe in my Christ" -- Ólafur Liljurós (note that while this ballad is related to similar ones all over Europe, many of them deal with the protaganist's impending marriage and/or infidelity in some way; this is absent from the Icelandic and it's a purely religious conflict). In Tungustapi, Sveinn doesn't just fuck elves, he also goes to their church (which is a sort of inverted Christian church). He's alienated from the [Christian/human] community. This corresponds to "western ontology."

The other side of this is fear of being eaten. At risk of overthinking things, because being afraid of a scary monster eating you doesn't really seem to need a lot of explanation, I think there are religious/cosmological implications here.

The fear of being eaten by a troll is different from the fear of being eaten by a bear or a boar, because humans also eat bears and boars, we are on the same level with them. You can't eat a troll (we also don't eat wolves, and wolves are trolls' domestic animals, although I guess you could eat a wolf). A semi-human semi-Euhemerized jötunn/troll is associated with cannibalism in Orms þáttr Stórólfssonar. I've written before about the likely etymological derivation of jötunn from a word meaning 'to eat'; previously I said that while *etaną 'to eat' and *etunaz 'jötunn' have a clear etymological relationship, that might not be so a few hundred years later when they have become eta and jǫtunn, but maybe this relationship should be reconsidered.

Eduardo Kohn was once told to always sleep on his back in the jungle, because if a jaguar comes it will see his face and recognize him as a person, but if it sees his back it will see him as prey. To avoid being eaten by a troll you have to get the troll to see you as a person and not as food, you can do this by giving a gift (and initiating a relationship of reciprocity), or else by being more troll-like yourself (maybe even by preestablished kinship with trolls like Egill Skallagrímsson). It's a widely-acknowledge attribute of trolls, at least in Iceland, that if you do manage to get them on your side they are loyal, hence the word trölltryggur 'trustworthy as a troll [=extremely trustworthy].'

The alternate way to avoid being eaten is, of course, to pray to [Thor/St. Olav] to come destroy them with his [hammer/axe]. I don't think this throws off what I'm saying here though, because "extreme violence" is also an option for dealing with humans in a reciprocation-exchange relationship too.

Anyway, my point is that the responses to the two different fears are the exact opposite of each other. You respond to the fear of conversion by never associating with trolls, never falling for the deceit that they are persons like you. You respond to the fear of being eaten by trolls by establishing mutual recognition of each others' personhood.

Contrary to popular belief (which says to never accept any gift from the fey under any circumstances), both of these are represented in folklore. Ólafur Liljurós even presents both of them at the same time, and says it's better to be killed than convert.

There's a big gap in this, which is magical creatures that don't want to eat you but which are still dangerous. e.g., an elf is not going to eat you but you still don't want to piss him off because he'll shoot you with a disease-transmitting arrow. But I think this can get filed along with the fear of being eaten, it's just that because the Eduardos (Vivieros de Castro and Kohn) are themselves talking about cosmological food chains, and I'm working from their material, there's better opportunity for examining trolls that eat people.

#heathen #heathenry

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amuseoffyre · 2 years

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Generational Trauma in OFMD

Entirely boggled to learn there's a subset of #OurFlagMeansDeath fandom who think that Ed isn't canonically a BIPOC character? Because they don't say aloud that he is? My beige dudes, the actor is Māori. They cast a Māori actress to play his mother. This was not an accident.

Taika has always been proudly vocal about his mixed heritage and the fact they canonically gave Ed a white father and a Māori mother is so important in the context of Ed's character. The show is set at Peak Empire, when England (and Europe) colonised everything.

There's a powerful thread of subtext of this history within her characterisation and this show doesn’t do anything accidentally: she is a house servant, trapped in poverty, abused and controlled by her white partner, and conditioned to believe that "it's not up to us, it's up to God".

For anyone unfamiliar with European colonialism, the role the church played in it is toxic. The stolen generations and the people descended from the kids put through the Christian school systems are a legacy of it: children of indigenous people abducted and forcibly cut off from their culture to be ‘civilised’ through Christianity and assimilated into a white-centric culture. The entire system was a genocidal horror story perpetuated in the name of God for centuries in almost every single colony. The children were abused and conditioned to believe they were lesser, better than their heritage but still never good - ‘white’ - enough. “We’re not that kind and never will be”.

So when Ed’s mother says “it’s not up to us, it’s up to God”, that is the voice of a child of colonial violence repeating what she was taught by abuse and by rote to make sure she knows her humble place in the world order created by the Christian Empires. The fact she’s a servant is also so integral to this. The Christian schools trained the children to be workers but most specifically in low-level manual/domestic work. The people running the show didn’t want them getting ideas above their station, after all.

Not a word of this show is incidental. The history is there if you listen to it and it makes the red silk scene devastating because we are seeing a woman from a colonised culture literally and metaphorically pass that trauma on to her son.

Think of the first time we see the silk: it is immediately in the aftermath of Ed’s encounter with the French Captain. This is the moment when Ed is faced with the same level of racial abuse as Frenchie and Olu get from the white Navy officers in episode 1 - “made by savages”, “silence, slave!” “your master may tolerate uppity behaviour”.

The Captain refers to Ed as “your kind”, immediately designating him as something Other and Uncivilised by comparison to himself. Ed reels as if slapped at that alone, asking tersely “what’s that supposed to mean?”. The man derisively says “a rich donkey is still a donkey”.

But no, sure, tell me there’s nothing inherently racist about a posh white man describing a brown man in terms of a beast of burden, something meant for manual work, carrying things for its owner and known for being beaten into submission. /end sarcasm. In many documents from that era, this was a common way for white (especially English) Europeans to write about anyone not white, regardless of rank, culture or history: comparisons with animals, beasts, lower creatures are all over the place. (eta: it has also been confirmed that donkey itself was commonly used as a slur against Polynesian and Pasifika people, which makes this a deliberately targeted racist insult)

Ed, unsurprisingly, does not react well. The fact that this is the thing to make him lose his temper for the first time underscores how distressing it is for him, especially when it segues into the flashback to his mother, repeating that same lesson to him.

The way these two scenes overlapped is so important because not only does it define Ed’s history but also demonstrates that - even decades after the fact - the legacy of generational trauma has not and will not go away.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd meta #this show is so important for representation #even if apparently some people are choosing to ignore it #my dudes it is literally screaming in your face

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