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prolix-yuy · 3 months

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Beautiful Release

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an agreement. Simple, clean, easy. But not this time.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, IT'S PEGGING DIN TIME! Anal sex (m receiving), rough sex, sex toys, fingering (m receiving), handjob, frottage, blowjob, swallowing, cumshot, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), mild dubcon (Reader isn't aware of Din's mental state and stops the session to re-negotiate boundaries), painful sex, sex as self-flagellation, hurt/comfort.

Notes: Welcome to my addition to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Event 2024! This idea had been bumping around in my brain and this gave me the perfect excuse to write it. Thanks @wannab-urs for organizing this event, making the gorgeous banners, and giving me a chance to live my fantasies after S3 gave us the most delicious kneeling restrained Din image. I will never forget it, it's burned into my brain forever.

Set after S2 and before The Book of Boba Fett.

Cross-posted on AO3

He’s come to you before, but never like this.

Din always treats your encounters like serendipity, but from the first time you’ve known how far from the truth that is. He finds ways to drift into your path, tilting his helmet like he never expected you to be at this spaceport, which you prefer for its discretion, or in this cantina, which serves a hell of a barium fizz. The niceties always devolve into the silent request, which you never fail to fulfill.

But now, there’s a holomessage blinking on your control panel.

Send me your coordinates. Usual encoding.

It’s brisk, cold, mostly to protect you both, but even then something’s off. He’s never admitted to seeking you out. Something stirs deep in your stomach, consulting the encoding slug he gave you ages ago in case you ever needed him. Funny, the first time you’d use it would be because you think he needs you.

Your winding relationship with Din Djarin began at the business end of a blaster, but you can’t fault him for that. The ship you were flying then had all the hallmarks of a slaver vessel, but when he found your crew of rebel sympathizers he lowered his weapon. One escort and a few short-lived conversations later, and you’d forged a razor-thin alliance.

Your paths wound their way across and through each other for over a year, and in that time Din warmed to you. He gave you his name, his allegiances, his contacts if needed. In return you forged documents and built jammers for his ramshackle ship. Mutually beneficial, and after a time pleasantly warm. His laugh always surprised you, a low chuckle when you turned a phrase just right on him.

And the kid! The curious little gremlin that had been accompanying him more in recent times did help to smooth the rough spots. Grogu’s presence always brightened your days, brief moments of pure joy from his tireless antics. Din seemed to be ever the exasperated protector, but when he tucked Grogu into his arm his aura glowed.

However, the times when Din “stumbled” upon you with seemingly no purpose had little to do with play dates or trades. Well, maybe only in the most euphemistic sense.

It was on a cargo run - cargo being more frightened people fleeing under the guise of your fake shipping business - that Din first encountered what would bring him back to you time and time again. There was a man among the stowaways who took an interest in you, the feeling mutual. He wound his way around like a lothcat in heat, and when you whispered how you might be able to pass the time he enthusiastically agreed.

You weren’t much of an exhibitionist, but the ship wasn’t meant for privacy. So when Din happened upon you bending the man over a cargo crate, your strap slickly splitting him open as he moaned behind your clamped hand, you did feel some mild embarrassment. You weren’t sure how long he watched you thrust into the other man, but the little cough that alerted you to his presence made you turn and take him in.

He was clearly affected, hand gripping his belt as the other clenched by his side. Fascinating. The Mandalorian had surprises in store.

The man garbled about sucking Din’s cock, letting the Mando cum on his face while you pounded his tight hole, but you stuck your fingers in his mouth and picked up your rhythm again. You’d met other Mandalorians in your travels, but Din’s particular religion was much stricter than most. He might take hefty offense if you assumed any of the armor could come off. Instead you let him watch without comment as your companion came all over the side of the cargo crate, soothing him through the aftershocks. As you cleaned him up you noticed your audience fled, and you determined never to speak of this.

It would take two months for Din to come to you.

“People like this?” he asked when you showed him your strap and assortment of attachments. You shrugged, picking out the one you secretly thought he’d enjoy.

“Some do, some don’t. It’s just one of many things I like,” you said, leaning against your bedroom wall as he filled the small space with restless energy. “I’m sure you like plenty of things too.”

There it was. The little roll of the shoulders and flex of a hand that told you Din wasn’t as inexperienced as some would believe.

“Never tried something like this,” he mumbled, and you smiled under the knowledge that he was nervous. Din Djarin, feared throughout the galaxy, and dearer friend than you ever expected, had something he wanted and didn't know how to ask for.

“Would you like to try it?” you said, taking the last barrier away. He tilted the helmet down, fingers restless on his hip.

“Yes.”

That first night you didn’t fuck him, though by the end he was so close to begging you almost came from the sound. Instead you opened him up with your fingers, got him used to the feeling of fullness and how to connect it to pleasure, while he laid on your bed and gripped the sheets so hard you thought he’d rip them. His pants bunched across his thighs, you got to admire the cords of muscle rippling as you made him shake and choke. His cock, velvety and weeping on his stomach, made your mouth water, but you only offered to suck it when he was just on the precipice. Your hot mouth wrapping around his head, two clever fingers stroking his prostate, tipped him over into bliss as he shouted his completion. Pride swelled in your chest at his belabored breath, chestplate heaving and thighs quivering on either side of your head.

When you returned from cleaning up he was already dressed again, despite your protests to wait and let you ease him down from this new experience. He thanked you, awkwardly, and left quickly. Lying in the same bed that night, still smelling of him, you reasoned with yourself. He probably had a lot of feelings to sort out, both around his pleasure and the fact that you gave it to him. You hoped he trusted you enough to know you’d be discreet. And, as your fingers slid into your underwear, you hoped he’d seek you out again.

It was only a week before you were at the same spaceport again, his heavy boots clanking up your ramp. You tried to hide your own nerves, but when Din stood before you and let the visor drag up and down your body, a delicious grin crept onto your face.

“Ready to try more?”

Indeed he was.

He enters your ship without preamble, a brief flit of concern clouding your features at how quickly he disarmed your security measures. You weren’t expecting him for another hour. He must have jumped to get to you.

It’s thrilling, to know the Mandalorian’s need is so great.

But when he enters and closes the door behind him, the energy is…off. Not seductive, teasing, edged like the other times. No, he’s holding his body so tight and so still. There’s nothing aggressive in it, but you glimpse why his enemies fear him. Without a face, and with so much obscuring the flesh beneath, you’re not sure when he’ll strike.

He catches you rummaging through your drawer, the strap in your hand. Assessing, you give him a gentler smile than usual, hands visible, softening your stance.

“Hello, Din.”

He nods, quickly, unbuckling his belt and yanking his cape free. Both fall to the floor carelessly. You press on.

“How about you tell me what you want?” you say, watching him carefully as he opens his pants plaquet. The mouthwatering strip of skin you covet peeks from beneath his top.

“Just need…need this,” he says, and while naturally a man of few words you’d taught him to be more vocal in this respect.

“Okay, Din. How about you kneel on the bed and we start there?” Your voice lowers into a soothing register, reaching for his arm.

“No,” he almost shouts, startling your hand back. He recovers. “No, I want…” You can practically hear him licking his lips on a sigh, slowing himself down. “Can you sit against the headboard?”

Brows raised, you nod. He’s never ridden you before, always preferring to let you take him from behind or on his back. Pulling the strap-on over your leggings, you settle against the headboard and wait for him. He doesn’t take long, kneeling on the bed briefly in contemplation before swinging over your lap. Shucking his pants half down his legs, you can’t resist a giggle.

“Might be better to take them off,” you tease, letting your hands lay featherlight on his hips. A huff crackles through the vocoder but he doesn’t move to disrobe further.

“I’ll open you up a bit first,” you say, one hand reaching for lube while the other snakes its way to his hole. You encounter surprising slickness, but he’s nowhere as warmed up as you get him.

“S’okay, I took care of it,” he mumbles, both hands coming up to grip the headboard above your head. Slicking lube on the dildo, you move to finger him enough to ease your way in.

“Just a little more…”

“I’m fine.”

The curt retort snaps your face to the helmet, now more of a cowled chin and shining halo of beskar above your head. There’s something bubbling uncomfortably under the surface, something you feel the need to drag out by the scruff of the neck, but it’s Din. You never talk feelings with Din. Frankly, you barely talk at all during, or after, any of your nights together.

“Sorry,” he breathes, forcing relaxation. “I’m ready. Please.”

Your eyes linger for a moment longer, then you circle the base of your cock in waiting.

He descends slowly, gritted breaths and sharp blasts of air from his nose echoing above you. You watch the strain in his thighs as he sinks and sinks, his cock only half-hard against his stomach. Leaving a hand on one hip, you stroke soothing paths up and down his lower back, watching for discomfort. Instead he’s marble around you, coiled, body not releasing as usual. Normally when you fuck him he dissolves, rolling his hips back onto you and choking out praises of how good you feel.

None of that comes. He meets the base of your cock and immediately slides back up at an almost punishing pace. He can’t be that acclimated yet, and his pained hisses and grunts only make that more apparent.

“Din, slow down,” you request, hands firmer on his hips to try and even his pace. If he heard you he says nothing, now slamming his hips down on your cock. “Din,” you beseech again, nails starting to dig in. His grunts grow to growls, something from the heat of battle, your headboard creaking from his crushing grip.

Clarity overtakes you, the shudder of his stomach and forceful downstrokes only getting more intense. There wasn’t pleasure in this. Something is eating up Din inside and he’s trying to fuck it out of himself. And he’s using you to do that.

“Din Djarin, STOP.”

The echo of your voice, strong and steely, finally brings Din to a stop with your cock buried deep in his ass. His chest heaves in front of you, limbs quivering from the exertion, but he’s as still as he can be. Gripping his chestplate, you push him back enough to look him in the visor, your anger righteously reflected back.

“You don’t punish yourself with my cock,” you order, teeth clenched and seething. “Do you think so little of me, that I’d just let you rip yourself to shreds without a word?”

Din freezes, but this time you know it’s shame. If you were in a clearer headspace you might have tried reassurance, or asked him to lay beside you and talk about what’s destroying him, but you’re just too upset.

“Is that all you come to me for?” you spit out, knuckles aching from gripping his armor. He’s silent for long enough that you consider throwing him out before he speaks.

“Something happened. And I just want to…be empty. To not think about it every moment.” He leans forward and your visage warps as he presses his forehead to the crown of your head. The anger thrums but starts to ebb as he folds around you. “I didn’t know where else to go. You’ve always taken care of me. More than I deserve.”

The sadness in his voice is palpable, and even with your mouth still sour from his deception you find the compassion to wrap your arms around his middle. The chestplate presses into your cheek, a metronome for Din’s slowing breaths.

“If you have any care in your heart for me, don’t ever do that again,” you grit out. Din’s breath catches.

“I care for you,” he says, and a door in your heart you never realized was cracked widens for Din’s admission.

“I care for you too, you karking asshole, which is why I want you to say something instead of trying to hate fuck your feelings out.”

Din’s chest begins to shake again, but you’re sure it’s laughter this time. You manage a giggle of your own, letting him lean back and look at you again. The motion shifts your cock in him, and his sharp sigh arches your brow.

“If you wanted to forget, you could have just told me,” you say, rolling your hips sensuously up into his clenching hole. Din’s head drops back, grip tightening on the headboard again as you grind into him.

“Please,” he begs, so soft and vulnerable you can’t help but give him what he needs.

Slowly you press up into him, guiding his hips to rock on your cock. You love the feel of his ass in your hands, well muscled and perfect for grabbing, manhandling him just enough to show he can let go. He follows your direction reluctantly at first, but as you plant your feet and start thrusting with more range he loosens. You can feel it in his arms, holding on to the headboard for dear life, and the building rhythm of his hips meeting yours. For a man whose life is violence, you never want to bring that into your sessions. But a light swat on one asscheek pulls the most delicious moan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans, bearing down on you even more. Tilting your hips, you arch his back enough that you’re sure to hit his prostate on the next thrust.

“Maker!”

There it is.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. Waiting a moment, you zero in on that perfect spot inside him and hit it with every one of your thrusts. “Do you feel that? Feel how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, fuck,” Din curses, one hand flitting down to squeeze the base of his cock. He’s at full attention now, head bobbing against your stomach. You swell with pride that he’s having to stave off his orgasm so quickly, but you’ll be the one to make those decisions now.

“All I want you to think about is how good you feel,” you purr, tugging his hand away and replacing it with your own. You long for his skin against yours, so you pull up your shirt to skim the head of his cock against your soft belly. He chokes, stuttering away but he’s trapped between your hand and thighs.

“Wait, Maker, I’ll cum if you…” he garbles, but his body keeps meeting your grinds. You shush him gently, stroking from base to tip and smearing precum over the head.

“You will, but only when I let you. You know I’ll make it good for you, make nothing but this pleasure you’re feeling fill that head of yours.” His rapid nod almost knocks you in the head with the beskar, but he manages to tuck into your neck instead. The helmet is a shocking cool against your skin, but the act of burrowing into you must be rewarded. Bringing your arms around him, you press along the length of his body, trapping his cock between.

“I’m gonna pound into this tight ass until you cum all over us. You like that?” The wail Din lets out shoots heat to your cunt, wishing more than anything that you’d opted for a toy that gave you a little stimulation too. Instead you hammer fast and hard, barely pulling out. Your hips and thighs burn with exertion at his bulk on top of you, but he’s frantically bouncing back and rutting his cock into the wet mess your bodies make.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, and you’re not sure if it’s the vocoder but you think his voice sounds watery. “Please, cyar’ika, don’t stop.”

Cupping the back of his neck, damp with sweat, you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

With a handful of final pumps you’re coated in his cum, sliding around your belly as he seizes over and over. Pressing deep, you hold strong against his shuddering body as he finishes. Each weakening thrust draws him down on you, heavier and loose-limbed.

The armor makes it hard to find the soft spots, so you take to kneading the back of his neck and palming his spine. Before his last aftershock, you urge him higher on his knees so you can slip your cock out - slowly, so as not to shock his jellying body. Easing him down, you hold his head in the crook of your neck and settle him on your lap. His hands slide down from the headboard to your shoulders.

Then you hear it. A tiny sniff, then another. You can’t pretend you didn’t notice them so close to your ear. So you gather the broad man in your arms and hold him. His hands don’t know where to rest, finally winding loosely around your lower back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” you tell him again, and the sniffing starts to recede. His body, however, slumps against yours, and it takes all of your strength not to start giggling.

You fucked the Mandalorian right to sleep. Bravo to you.

When Din finally stirs, a deep rumble in his throat, it’s been almost an hour. Your toes are half numb and you’re dying to shift into any other position, but much like a lothcat falling asleep on your lap, you couldn’t bear to move Din. Especially when he started snoring, one of the most endearing and hilarious sounds you’d ever heard him make.

In the time he slept you wondered what happened. What terrible thing hollowed him out and haunts him. Something keeps him up at night, if the depth of his sleep is any indication. Recent, possibly. Traumatic.

Your breath caught in your throat. If something happened to Grogu you know he would have told you. You ask after him all the time, teasing that you’ll be his Auntie (Din always says he has plenty of them across the galaxy).

Had you seen the Razor Crest fly up? Where was that old bird anyway?

What happened in the time since Din last saw you?

The cycle of possibilities always ends the same. Maybe he cares for you in some way, but not enough for you to ask. No matter how much you want to.

A shift on your lap alerts you to Din waking, kneading his shoulders and neck lightly to alert him to your presence. He’s never slept with you before, but it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he’s quick to draw at unexpected circumstances. Of which this one definitely is.

“What…” Din croaks, and if not for the helmet you would have offered him water.

“It’s okay, you’re on my ship. You’re okay.”

It takes Din another minute to realize what’s happened. Him, half naked on your lap with your strap pressing against his ass. You, covered in drying cum beneath him. In a flash he’s swinging his leg off your lap, attempting to stand but obviously they’ve gone as numb as yours because he stumbles and crashes out of sight.

“Oh kriff, are you…?” you start to ask, but as quick as he’s out of sight he pops back up again, tugging up his pants and tucking himself away.

“Sorry, that was…I didn’t mean to…do that.”

All of the heaviness and anger and lust fizzles away to laughter as you try to suppress the ridiculousness of the moment. After a moment of indigent head tilting Din’s shoulder also shake, chuckles fuzzing out of the vocoder.

“Oh Maker, what an understatement that is,” you sigh, wiping your stomach with the edge of your bedsheets. Din visibly cringes, hands on his hips.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes, but you wave it off.

“I’ve had much worse, believe me,” you shoot back. Clean enough, you sit on the edge of the bed and look up at the inscrutable man.

“Want to talk about it?”

Din’s stance shifts, helmet tipping down for a moment before coming back to your face.

“...Not yet.”

You hum and nod. “Well, you know how to find me if you do.”

Din nods. “Thank you.”

As he picks up his effects you shimmy off the harness at the foot of the bed, mentally ticking through the steps to clean everything. Din watches you set it down, stilling until your eyes come back to him.

“It gives you pleasure as well?” he asks, which raises one of your eyebrows.

“I mean, about as much as rhythmically hitting your hips against someone can do.” His posture changes into something hard to decipher, so you continue. “I’ve got a few that do more for me, but it depends on the person I’m with. Comfort, boundaries. As you’re well aware.” You gesture to the armor, his chin tucking down to look at it.

“So you’ve never cum with me?” he asks, and a sudden feverish heat blooms under your skin. Din has a sex appeal you appreciate, but have never acted on beyond what he’s asked for. Now, something’s changed so dizzyingly fast you’re scrambling.

“Well, you’re pretty spent after our sessions. And you leave quickly. I don’t ask for more than you can give.”

Din takes a step towards you, putting his belt and cloak back down.

“What do you ask of other people you fuck?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. How can he turn the tables so quickly and spectacularly? Trying to gain the upper hand, you pull a confident face on and speak as breezily as possible.

“Most can’t get it up twice after I fuck them within an inch of their life, so fingers, tongues, toys, any and all of the above are excellent ways to repay the favor.”

He’s even closer now, and the facade is barely holding up. It’s like the vulnerability he showed you can’t possibly be returned.

“You’ve never asked me,” he says, and you can’t believe there’s a note of regret in his voice. The bed hits the back of your legs, and you steady your voice even though those words make your pussy throb.

“I didn’t think it was allowed.” Your voice drops low as Din steps into your space.

“Difficult, but not forbidden.” Din’s hands come to your shoulders. “Sit down, please.”

Your knees fold so fast you bounce on the bed, looking up at him. He joins you on one knee, hands coming to rest on your thighs.

“I broke my Creed. I would do it again, for the exact same reason, but now that makes me an apostate.” His hands come to the helmet, thumbs tucking underneath the lip.

“Din, what happened?”

He pauses, and you swear you can feel his gaze through that smoky visor.

“Close your eyes.”

Darkness surrounds you, then a hiss and a thunk.

Then the voice of a man you care for, unfiltered and bare.

“I’m not ready for anyone to see my face. But I want this, with you. If you can forgive me.”

You could be dreaming still. It would make just as much sense.

“I forgive you, Din. But just this once,” you sneak in at the end just to hear how melodic his laugh sounds. Then his hand splays over your stomach and urges you to lie back.

“I hope you don’t mind teaching me this. I don’t have much experience,” he says, fire licking through your body as he tugs your leggings and underwear off.

“Don’t worry, you’re a quick learner,” you say breathily.

And when he finally kisses you, sweet with your musk on his tongue and your orgasm dripping from his fingers, you teach him how to do that as well.

END

"I need some distraction Oh a beautiful release Memories seep from my veins Let me be empty Oh and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

Sarah McLachlan, Angel (yeah I know I used the sad dog song)

#PMAMC 2024 #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #prolix fics

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fatehbaz · 1 year

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"Abolition forgery":

So, observers and historians have, for a long time, since the first abolition campaigns, talked and written a lot about how Britain and the United States sought to improve their image and optics in the early nineteenth century by endorsing the formal legal abolition of chattel slavery, while the British and US states and their businesses/corporations meanwhile used this legal abolition as a cloak to receive credit for being nice, benevolent liberal democracies while they actually replaced the lost “productivity” of slave laborers by expanding the use of indentured laborers and prison laborers, achieved by passing laws to criminalize poverty, vagabondage, loitering, etc., to capture and imprison laborers. Like, this was explicit; we can read about these plans in the journals and letters of statesmen and politicians from that time. Many "abolitionist" politicians were extremely anxious about how to replace the lost labor. This use of indentured labor and prison labor has been extensively explored in study/discussion fields (discourse on Revolutionary Atlantic, the Black Atlantic, the Caribbean, the American South, prisons, etc.), Basic stuff at this point. Both slavery-based plantation operations and contemporary prisons are concerned with mobility and immobility, how to control and restrict the movement of people, especially Black people. After the “official” abolition of slavery, Europe and the United States then disguised their continued use of forced labor with the language of freedom, liberation, etc. And this isn't merely historical revisionism; critics and observers from that time (during the Haitian Revolution around 1800 or in the 1830s in London, for example) were conscious of how governments were actively trying to replicate this system of servitude..

And recently I came across this term that I liked, from scholar Ndubueze Mbah.

He calls this “abolition forgery.”

Mbah uses this term to describe how Europe and the US disguised ongoing forced labor, how these states “fake” liberation, making a “forgery” of justice.

But Mbah then also uses “abolition forgery” in a dramatically different, ironic counterpoint: to describe how the dispossessed, the poor, found ways to confront the ongoing state violence by forging documents, faking paperwork, piracy, evasion, etc. They find ways to remain mobile, to avoid surveillance.

And this reminds me quite a bit of Sylvia Wynter’s now-famous kinda double-meaning and definition of “plot” when discussing the plantation environment. If you’re unfamiliar:

Wynter uses “plot” to describe the literal plantation plots, where slaves were forced to work in these enclosed industrialized spaces of hyper-efficient agriculture, as in plots of crops, soil, and enclosed private land. However, then Wynter expands the use of the term “plot” to show the agency of the enslaved and imprisoned, by highlighting how the victims of forced labor “plot” against the prison, the plantation overseer, the state. They make subversive “plots” and plan escapes and subterfuge, and in doing so, they build lives for themselves despite the violence. And in this way, they also extend the “plot” of their own stories, their own narratives. So by promoting the plot of their own narratives, in opposition to the “official” narratives and “official” discourses of imperial states which try to determine what counts as “legitimate” and try to define the course of history, people instead create counter-histories, liberated narratives. This allows an “escape”. Not just a literal escape from the physical confines of the plantation or the carceral state, an escape from the walls and the fences, but also an escape from the official narratives endorsed by empires, creating different futures.

(National borders also function in this way, to prevent mobility and therefore compel people to subject themselves to local work environments.)

Katherine McKittrick also expands on Wynter's ideas about plots and plantations, describing how contemporary cities restrict mobility of laborers.

So Mbah seems to be playing in this space with two different definitions of “abolition forgery.”

Mbah authored a paper titled ‘“Where There is Freedom, There Is No State”: Abolition as a Forgery’. He discussed the paper at American Historical Association’s “Mobility and Labor in the Post-Abolition Atlantic World” symposium held on 6 January 2023. Here’s an abstract published online at AHA’s site: This paper outlines the geography and networks of indentured labor recruitment, conditions of plantation and lumbering labor, and property repatriation practices of Nigerian British-subjects inveigled into “unfree” migrant “wage-labor” in Spanish Fernando Po and French Gabon in the first half of the twentieth century. [...] Their agencies and experiences clarify how abolitionism expanded forced labor and unfreedom, and broaden our understanding of global Black unfreedom after the end of trans-Atlantic slavery. Because monopolies and forced labor [...] underpinned European imperialism in post-abolition West Africa, Africans interfaced with colonial states through forgery and illicit mobilities [...] to survive and thrive.

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Also. Here’s a look at another talk he gave in April 2023.

[Excerpt:]

Ndubueze L. Mbah, an associate professor of history and global gender studies at the University at Buffalo, discussed the theory and implications of “abolition forgery” in a seminar [...]. In the lecture, Mbah — a West African Atlantic historian — defined his core concept of “abolition forgery” as a combination of two interwoven processes. He first discussed the usage of abolition forgery as “the use of free labor discourse to disguise forced labor” in European imperialism in Africa throughout the 19th and 20th centuries. Later in the lecture, Mbah provided a counterpoint to this definition of abolition forgery, using the term to describe the ways Africans trapped in a system of forced labor faked documents to promote their mobility across the continent. [...]

Mbah began the webinar by discussing the story of Jampawo, an African British subject who petitioned the British colonial governor in 1900. In his appeal, Jampawo cited the physical punishment he and nine African men endured when they refused to sign a Spanish labor contract that differed significantly from the English language contract they signed at recruitment and constituted terms they deemed to be akin to slavery. Because of the men’s consent in the initial English language contract, however, the governor determined that “they were not victims of forced labor, but willful beneficiaries of free labor,” Mbah said.

Mbah transitioned from this anecdote describing an instance of coerced contract labor to a discussion of different modes of resistance employed by Africans who experienced similar conditions under British imperialism. “Africans like Jampawo resisted by voting with their feet, walking away or running away, or by calling out abolition as a hoax,” Mbah said.

Mbah introduced the concept of African hypermobility, through which “coerced migrants challenged the capacity of colonial borders and contracts to keep them within sites of exploitation,” he said.] [...] Mbah also discussed how the stipulations of forced labor contracts imposed constricting gender hierarchies [...]. To conclude, Mbah gestured toward how the system of forced labor persists in Africa today, yet it “continues to be masked by neoliberal discourses of democracy and of development.” [...] “The so-called greening of Africa [...] continues to rely on forced labor that remains invisible.” [End of excerpt.]

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This text excerpt from: Emily R. Willrich and Nicole Y. Lu. “Harvard Radcliffe Fellow Discusses Theory of ‘Abolition Forgery’ in Webinar.” The Harvard Crimson. 13 April 2023. [Published online. Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

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emira-addams · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel - Carmilla x Rosie - The Devil is a Part-Timer - Headcanon

Carmilla gets trapped on Earth with her daughters and Rosie and Velvette, and they need to pretend to be family so as not to attract any attention among the humans as them being demons until they can return to Hell...

The last thing Carmilla could remember was her arguing with Velvette and Rosie knocking on the door

The Overlord-Meeting had just been over, an exhausting meeting and the main topic had been that weird hotel of Lucifer's disillusioned daughter and the probability of the end of the annual exterminations as a result of Adam's death

With the help of her daughters, Carmilla had been packing up her things, Velvette still sitting in her seat with her feet on the table, engaged in a very heated discussion with Carmilla while she tried to get home as soon as possible

Velvette was convinced that they had to fight back and bring down Heaven now while they still had the chance

Suddenly there had been a knock on the door and Rosie was standing in front of her

When Carmilla opened her eyes, she was lying on her back, damp green grass beneath her and the silhouettes of trees and shadows of skyscrapers above her, the red horizon of Hell had been replaced by a dark blue sky, planes and helicopters imitating shooting stars

The noise of the city was terrible, the volume unbearable, shrill sirens and car horns, she had to cover her ears and when she sat up, she realized that she was sitting on the ground in the middle of a park in a big city

Carmilla was not alone

Less than a meter away from their mother, her daughters lay unconscious in the grass, Rosie found herself on her side under a tree and a good distance away, in the mud on the edge of a small lake, they saw Velvette

"W-What happened?" Slowly Rosie came awake, shaking, her balance faltering, and Carmilla needed to help to her feet before the worried mother could go and check on her daughters

"Where are we?" Rosie also seemed completely overwhelmed by the volume, the bright lights and the sheer size of the city; she and Carmilla had never experienced such centralization and automation in their lifetimes

"We're on Earth..." Velvette tried desperately to rub the mud from her clothes, more concerned about her appearance than the fact that they had somehow escaped Hell and were now trapped on Earth

"Why are we on Earth? We have to go back to Hell!"

"What do we do now?" Velvette asks in confusion as they leave the park and stop in front of a large shop window, all of their images appearing strangely human in the reflection

"We'll blend in," Carmilla concludes. "We look like humans, so we act like humans..."

She has a plan and explains to the group that they need to be as inconspicuous as possible, they need to blend into the everyday life of a normal person as much as possible, they shouldn't attract any attention until they have found a way back to Hell and their first step in implementing their plan is to find a place to stay and food to eat

At the city library, Odette forges the right faked documents for them on a computer while the rest of the group searches for ads for cheap housing in newspapers spread everywhere

Odette chooses the obviously simplest option and makes their group into a family that has just moved here from abroad, Carmilla and Rosie playing married parents and Clara, Odette and Velvette becoming sisters on paper

"I'd also need your name for the records, Miss..." requested their landlady.

"Rosie!"

"Your full name with your surname, please, Miss..." replied their landlady, shaking her head.

"Oh... Please excuse me, my full name is Rosie Carmine! We're married!" Rosie pointed to Carmilla with a proud grin, while Carmilla quickly averted her eyes, desperately trying to hide the blush that was now creeping inevitably into her cheeks. Although Odette had already warned her mother that Rosie would be playing her wife, saying it out loud was another matter that inevitably made Carmilla's heart skip a beat. How was she supposed to get used to sleeping in the same bed with Rosie any time soon?

"You really do have three wonderful daughters!" their landlady enthused as she showed them their tiny apartment, which was a one-bedroom unit with an open kitchen and an adjoining bathroom with a shower.

"Don't get the wrong impression, I'm just adopted!" Velvette interjected.

"We still love her just as much as our other two daughters..." Carmilla pressed through gritted teeth as she pulled Velvette into a halfhearted hug. "Play along..." she hissed lowly as Velvette struggled unsuccessfully in her arms.

Carmilla gets a job at a fast food restaurant to make the money for rent and food. In addition, she enrolls her daughters and Velvette in school to maintain their cover. Rosie stays home most of the time, taking care of the household and her family, while she spends her free time researching on the internet and in the surrounding museums and libraries to find out more about their situation and a possible way to get back to Hell.

Velvette is very less than thrilled that she has to live under the same roof as Carmilla, play their daughter and go back to school.

Even though their cover is indeed very convincing, their every move is watched by agents in black suits and black SUV's, which park in the street and near their apartment more and more frequently as the plot progresses. Carmilla is followed on her way to work, Rosie can't go to the supermarket alone once without agents following her through the aisles and Clara, Odette and Velvette are being tailed at school. Who are these people and what do they want from them? Are they well aware that they are from Hell?

I'm still working on this idea, it's in my WIP's and I'd love to write a full fic about it soon. It's more or less a slow burn Blooming Gun fic playing on Earth, with a lot of pure domestic bliss and fluff and some action (involving some secret demon hunting agents from the government), and Carmilla and Rosie secretly crushing on each other.

Carmilla thinks that Rosie is merely playing her role as her wife very convincingly and doesn't dare to explore her feelings much further, while Rosie desperately tries to give Carmilla the hint without actually having to say the words.

Clara and Odette have long since accepted Rosie as their other parent and are enjoying their second chance to live a semi-normal life outside of Hell with their mothers, more or less accepting Velvette as their sister.

After some time, several conflicts and some heartfelt conversations, Carmilla actually adopts Velvette as her daughter. The turning point in their relationship is a situation at school in which Carmilla takes Velvette's side as her mother and defends her as her daughter.

What do you think of this idea for a fic so far?

Do you have any suggestions or any wishes for scenes or content that I definitely need to include?

Masterpost:

Chapter 01:

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forgotten-bharat · 5 months

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Let's talk about the idolized Aurangzeb. What he did and why is he considered great?

We will be focusing on the destruction of temples and hindu genocide done by him to debunk claims deny that this.

By the order of Aurangzeb (1645 AD) according to Mirãt-i-Ahmadî, Temple of Chintaman situated close to Sarashpur (Gujarat) and built by Sitaldas jeweller was converted into a mosque named Quwwat-ul-lslam (might of Islam) (1645 AD.) A cow was slaughtered to 'solemnize' the 'ceremony'.

Slaughtering a cow was a heinous choice, cow being one of the holiest animal in Hinduism. As well as, Hinduism prohibits animal slaughter, to do it right where their place of worship used to be where now stands a Mosque was simply to mock and destroy the souls of the indigenous population. The Pandits and Cows were always their main targets.

This was done before he even became the king, he was just a prince at this point.

When he became the king he sent Mir Jumla on an expedition to Cooch Bihar. Mir Jumla demolished ALL temples in that city and erected mosques in their stead. The general himself wielded a battle-axe to break the image of Narayana.

Mirãt-i-Ahmadî continues, In 1666 AD, he ordered the faujdar of Mathura to remove a stone railing which had been presented by Dara Shukoh to the temples of Keshav Rai. He explained: “In the Muslim faith it is a sin even to look at a temple and this Dara had restored a railing in a temple!”

You can still argue that Islamic Colonization simply had a political motif and not a religious one, if that would have been the case, none of the indigenous people would have been harmed, none of them would have been forcefully converted, their heritage would not have been destroyed right in front of their eyes, their schools and texts would have been burned. This is downright evil and was done in the name of Allah by all the Mughal tyrants.

“The richly jewelled idols taken from the infidel temples were transferred to Agra and placed beneath the steps leading to the Nawab Begum Sahib's (Jahanara's) mosque in order that they might be “pressed under foot by the true believers”. Mathura changed its name into Islamabad and was thus called in all official documents.”

In the same year, Sita Ram ji temple at Soron was destroyed as also the shrine of Devi Patan at Gonda. News came from Malwa also that the local governor had sent 400 troopers to destroy all temples around Ujjain.

According to Muraqat-i-Abul Hasan, civil officers, agents of jagirdars, karoris and amlas from Cuttack in Orissa to Medinipur in Bengal were instructed as follows:

“Every idol house built during the last 10 or 12 years' should be demolished without delay. Also, do not allow the crushed Hindus and despicable infidels to repair their old temples. Reports of the destruction of temples should be sent to the court under the seal of the qazis and attested by pious Shaikhs.”

(1672 AD) several thousand Satnamis were slaughtered near Narnaul in Mewat for which act of 'heroism' Radandaz Khan was tided Shuja'at Khan with the mansab of 3000 and 2000 horse.

(1675 AD) Guru Tegh Bahadur was tortured to death for his resistance against the forcible conversion of the Hindus of Kashmir. The destruction of gurudwaras thereafter is a well-known story which our secularists have succeeded in suppressing because the Akali brand Sikhs have been forging ties of friendship with Islam as against their parent faith, Hindu Dharma.

Mirãt-i-Ahmadî goes ahead: “On 6th January 1680 A.D. Prince Mohammad Azam and Khan Jahan Bahadur obtained permission to visit Udaipur. Ruhullah Khan and Yakkattaz Khan also proceeded thither to effect the destruction of the temples of the idolators. These edifices situated in the vicinity of the Rana's palace were among the wonders of the age, and had been erected by the infidels to the ruin of their souls and the loss of their wealth”. Pioneers destroyed the images. On 24th January the king visited the tank of Udayasagar.

His Majesty ordered all three of the Hindu temples to be levelled with the ground. On 29th January Hasan AN Khan made his appearance' and stated that “172 temples in the neighbouring districts had been destroyed.” His Majesty proceeded to Chitor on 22nd February.

Temples to the number of 63 were destroyed. Abu Tarab who had been commissioned to effect the destruction of idol temples of Amber, reported in person on 10th August that 66 temples had been levelled to the ground.’ The temple of Someshwar in western Mewar was also destroyed at a later date in the same year. It may be mentioned that unlike Jodhpur and Udaipur, Amber was the capital of a state loyal to the Mughal emperor.

Khafi Khan records in his Muntakhab-ul-Lubab: ‘On the capture of Golconda, the Emperor appointed Abdur Rahim Khan as censor of the city of Haiderabad with orders to put down infidel practices and innovations, and destroy the temples and build mosques on the sites.’ That was in 1687 AD. In 1690 AD, he ordered destruction of temples at Ellora, Trimbakeshwar, Narasinghpur, and Pandharpur.

Aurangzeb also destroyed, Kashi Vishwanath Temple in Kashi, Uttar Pradesh - which considered as the most scared hindu temple and land.

In 1698 AD, the story was repeated at Bijapur. According to Mirat-i-AhmadT: 'Hamidud-din Khan Bahadur who had been deputed to destroy the temples of Bijapur and build mosques there, returned to court after carrying out the order and was praised by the Emperor.' As late as 1705 AD, two years before he died, 'the emperor, summoning Muhammad Khalil and Khidmat Rai, the darogha of hatchet-men' ordered them to demolish the temple of Pandharpur, and to take the butchers of the camp there and slaughter cows in the temple.' Cow-slaughter at a temple site was a safeguard against Hindus rebuilding it on the same spot.

The saddest part is, all of this information, the bloodiest part of Indian History is never shown to the people, they grow up learning, Mughals were great emperors that built great things. When none of that holds any ounce of truth. It should be said without any censorship, these tyrants destroyed the culture, tradition and religions of India.

With all this information, if you're still defending these tyrants, if you still "want them around", if you still insist "it wasn't that bad", you absolutely do not care about "human rights", every activism you take part in is just performative. And I do not respect you or your opinion on any social issue.

#aurangzeb #mughal empire #hinduphobia #ancient india #colonisation in india #temple destruction #mughal invasion #hindublr #hindu temples #pseudo secularism #hindu genocide

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nobrashfestivity · 6 months

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Romare Bearden, The Street, 1964

“The Street” is from Romare Bearden’s early “Projections” series, which documents the artist’s childhood in North Carolina and his migration to Harlem. These works began as small collages made with newspaper and magazine clippings, photographs, and paint, which were then enlarged using the Photostat copy process—which allowed Bearden to create large–scale reproductions on gelatin silver paper. Speaking later of the series, Bearden said, “What I’ve attempted to do is establish a world through art in which the validity of my Negro experience could live and make its own logic… . The medium I used was chosen intentionally because assemblage forges a variety of contrary images into one unified expression."

.© Romare Bearden Foundation / Licensed by VAGA at Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY

#romare bearden #collage #african american artists #nobrashfestivity #street #social realism

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thetomorrowshow · 3 months

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scars

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

i have no clue where this idea came from but here *hands you a tattooed jimmy*

this takes place about 8 months after then end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: past abuse, mentions of needles, scars

“Look at that one,” Jimmy points at the screen; Scott pauses in his scrolling. “It’s a poppy. You love poppies.”

“. . . I do,” Scott says, glancing at Jimmy quickly before resuming the scroll.

“That one’s a flag, but it could be a pride flag. That’s why I saved it. The birds are a bit cheesy, but I thought I’d include them anyway.”

Scott doesn’t say anything, just keeps scrolling through the document. He knew Jimmy had been researching something, but . . . he hadn’t been expecting this.

Before him, on Jimmy’s laptop, is a three-page document that is a collage of tattoos.

Some are better than others—there’s a celtic knot that looks pretty bad, and Jimmy’s right about the birds being cheesy, but the poppy is understated and delicate, and a cute cartoon cat makes him smile.

That’s all well and good, but the problem is: Scott has no clue why Jimmy is showing him tattoos.

Jimmy points at a bundle of stars, saying something about how it reminded him of Scott, then at a feather, then a ladder, which he explains could be combined with the stars. He quickly passes over an abstract canary, hands twitching and tripping over his words, to point out an intricate subway car, then a tiny soccer ball.

Scott interrupts right as Jimmy starts to explain an iceberg tattoo.

“Jimmy, I—this is great, but I don’t think I understand. Are you wanting me to get a tattoo?”

Jimmy blinks, laughs nervously. “I—Scott, these are—these are cover-ups. For scars.”

Oh.

Suddenly, there’s a lump in Scott’s throat.

“I—a tattoo is a big decision,” Scott manages to say around the lump, his eyes catching on a long scar down Jimmy’s left bicep. “It’s something you can’t change. Are you sure?”

Jimmy levels an exasperated look at him. “For one thing, I’m an adult. I know it’s a big decision, you don’t have to remind me. And I promise I’ve thought about this. I shouldn’t have to tell you that I have.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Scott starts to amend, but Jimmy forges on.

“It’s my body,” he says. “It’s mine, and I can have the freedom to do what I want with it, because I’m an adult and it belongs to me. And when you—when you asked if I was sure, it felt like you were treating me like a kid, or like I don’t own my body. And it felt bad.”

Shame curls in his stomach. Jimmy’s right, he shouldn’t have responded like that. It’s perfectly normal for people to get tattoos, and for their partners to support them in it. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again. “I didn’t think before speaking. I said something my parents would’ve said, and I should have considered what you just told me.”

Jimmy smiles, leans his head against Scott’s shoulder. “It’s fine. I was showing you because I wanted your opinion, and it’s all right if you don’t like the idea of a tattoo. But I would’ve liked for you to say that outright if that’s true, instead of telling me things I already knew.”

“No, I think it’s a great idea,” Scott hurries to amend. He pauses, taking a moment to get his thoughts in order. They’re working on having more open conversations, so that they don’t have repeat events of Scott’s Nightmare Situation of Last Month, as they’ve dubbed it. “I think a lot of tattoos are good,” he says eventually, “but some suck. So I’m happy you’re asking my opinion, because I don’t know if I’d be able to look my boyfriend in the eyes if he got a skull surrounded in roses on his bicep.”

That gets a laugh out of Jimmy. “Don’t think yours is the only opinion I’m getting,” he teases. “I know better than to trust a man who dyed his hair red all through college.”

“It looked good!”

They look at tattoos for a little while, Scott immediately vetoing the trio of birds and a guitar. Together, they separate the pages into ‘no’ ‘maybe’ and ‘yes’ images, dragging the little Darth Vader holding a lightsaber (a scar being the lightsaber) into ‘maybe’ and the celtic knot into ‘no’ and so on, until about half of the tattoos have been sorted.

And if they get distracted halfway through and end up making out right there on the couch? Well, they can always finish it later.

Three weeks later, Jimmy exits the tattoo parlor with the long, thin scar on his left bicep covered by a poppy, red and irritated from the procedure. Scott had been with him the whole time, holding his hand. They’d had to call for a break halfway through, but it had overall gone very well, and Jimmy had gotten into the passenger seat with a huge grin on his face.

“I thought I would be scared of the needle, but it wasn’t even that bad!” Jimmy says excitedly, twisting his arm around to check out the plastic-wrapped tattoo. “Did you hear when she said I was really good at staying still, especially for my first time? I’m going to get a good grade in tattoos, which is both normal to want and possible to achieve.”

Scott laughs out loud at the meme reference, resolving not to think about why it is that Jimmy’s so good at not moving while needles are stuck into him.

“Do you like it?” Scott asks instead, adjusting the rearview mirror before shifting the car into gear.

Jimmy doesn’t answer for a long moment. When Scott glances over at him, he’s let his arm fall, staring straight ahead, chewing thoughtfully on his lip.

“Yeah,” he decides eventually. “I really do. Now when I look at it in the mirror, I can be reminded of you instead of them. And . . . I can make choices with my body. That feels really good.”

“I can imagine.”

Jimmy twists his arm around again, peering at what little of the tattoo can be seen through the plastic. “I like it,” he says, quieter. “Do you like it?”

“It was my top choice, Jimmy,” Scott reminds him. “And it looks cute on you. Much better than that fish would.”

Jimmy snorts. “You know what, since it was Lizzie’s idea, I’ll tell her I’ll only get it if she gets it too.”

“Please—if you get fish, get a different one,” begs Scott. “It was huge, it had that horrible ‘gone fishing’ sign—get something cute, not something that screams fifty-year-old midlife crisis.”

That gets a laugh out of his boyfriend, and a little tension that had been in Scott’s body since before the appointment finally dissipates, allowing his shoulders to ease and his fingers to loosen their grip on the wheel.

“I’ve been watching videos on word cover-ups, so I think I might get one of those,” Jimmy says when they’re almost home. “I’m . . . I think it would help, even though I can still trace the letters. But I’d like to try scar treatment first, so I don’t think I’m gonna get another tattoo any time soon.”

“And here I was thinking my boyfriend was about to get all inked up and awesome,” Scott teases.

“And something for words would have to be really big, and there’s not much I want that’s good for that,” Jimmy continues. He glances at Scott quickly, then turns his gaze out the window. “That’s life, I guess.”

Scott thinks that’s the end of the conversation. He’s happy leaving it there, with vague plans and ideas in mind to experiment with.

But later that evening, at home, as Jimmy washes dishes and Scott dries them, Jimmy blurts out, “Would I be wrong for wanting a canary tattoo?”

Scott pauses. “Um. No?”

Jimmy sighs. “See, it’s the only one that I think I would want that’s big enough and colorful enough to cover any words. But I don’t know that I could be okay with having it cover up one of those words, because of . . . connotations. But also. . . .” he sighs again, sets down his dishcloth.

“Scott, being the Canary was the only freedom I had, as awful as it was,” Jimmy explains, and it’s a credit to how far he’s come that Jimmy’s voice doesn’t even shake. “I didn’t love it, but I could go outside. I could literally fly. And I looked pretty cool, honestly. So if I got another tattoo, I think it would be a canary, but . . . I’m afraid that’ll cause more harm than good, with my mental health and all.”

“I . . . don’t know,” Scott says honestly, sliding a plate into place in the cupboard. “I’m not in your head. And it’s not my body. But you don’t have to decide today. You don’t have to decide any time soon. You can talk about it with other people, and with Nora. And we can start looking into scar treatment, if you think you’re ready for that.”

Jimmy picks up the cloth again, runs it under the water. “I don’t know,” he says eventually, voice unreadable. His face has set back into that guarded look, the one that Scott is now so familiar with. “Maybe.”

Whatever Jimmy’s unspoken other concerns are (and Scott knows that they exist, he can tell in the tenseness of his stance), Jimmy abandons that topic of conversation. He doesn’t bring up tattoos again for weeks.

But every so often, Scott catches him admiring the poppy, and he can’t help but feel a bubble of happiness.

Jimmy finally has a good reason to look in a mirror.

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #flower husbands #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #021324 #yep you guessed it! im still away #if im back i'll announce it/delete these tags etc #knowing my life schedule and all that i think i'll finally feel up to coming back soon-ish #but like. as of writing these tags it is december of 22 #so take everything i say with a grain of salt #how do we feel about tattooed jimmy?#i legitimately have no idea where this came from. just all of the sudden i was researching cover-ups #and here we are #i found such pretty canary tattoos #and i think it's accurate of jimmy to be conflicted about a tattoo of a canary #bc again: canary meant freedom for him limited as it was #and that was a big part of his life that he kind of wants to commemorate #it changed everything some good some bad. jimmy's going through a part of his healing where he kind of wishes it was still happening #just bc like. a. it was easier to understand and b. now that it's this far away he feels sometimes like he's faking #like it wasn't that bad. and he wants to know that it was bad. he's trying to heal but doesnt want to let go of the hurt #bc if he covers up all the scars or they all heal then where's the proof that he went through anything at all?#somebody tell me to stop projecting #lmk what you think!#love you guys

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opencommunion · 20 days

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"The main bulk of the land’s history, the last two thousand years, that constitute almost the whole documented history of the land is not taken as a significant piece of the land’s history; the main history of this time, according to the Zionist historiography, is located outside Palestine where Jews lived, who regarded, supposedly, Palestine as their homeland. Their history is summarized simply as their efforts to keep the link with the ‘mother land’, their hoping to return to it, and their striving to realize that hope.

According to this history, Jews outside Palestine had no more important business, for about two thousand years, than returning to the homeland, experiencing in the interim an interruption to their collective life. At the same time the land, in its turn, was brought to a sudden standstill, waiting to see the return of its real owners, with no authentic intervening experience of the local population, people, civilization or any character that might demonstrate that the land had any owner other than Jews. This history, which is called ‘mythistory’ due to its mythical foundations, pays no serious attention to the problems and challenges of this story, and represents it as historical fact."

Seyed Hadi Borhani, Textbooks on Israel-Palestine: The Politics of Education and Knowledge in the West (2023)

"From the outset, the Zionist movement shaped the collective memory of the Jewish nation, forging and constructing images of the past regarding the nation's origins and its development over time. Like every national metanarrative, the Zionist one recreated certain segments of the past and is therefore inherently fragmented. It demarcated Jewish history on the basis of the connection with the land and developed a territorial consciousness. The past was divided into two main periods: the ancient past — referring to the existence of the Jewish people in the Land of Israel before the destruction of the temple —and the period of exile, when the connection with the Land of Israel was severed. By constituting 'the exile' as one metacategory, the Zionist narrative obliterated the history of the separate Jewish communities and the different territories on which it unfolded. The period of sovereignty (in particular, the kingdoms of David and Solomon) was portrayed as a positive time, evoking nostalgia, a time to be remembered and a time to return to. The exilic period was downgraded and defined as a lacuna, a dark interim space bereft of political sovereignty and therefore a time to be forgotten (i.e., an absence of historical memory). A void therefore loomed in the ages-long period between the ancient time and the resurgence of revivified nationalism. Nevertheless, this did not negate the Jewish people's continuous existence and unity and its persistent yearning for Zion. On the contrary, the existence of the void enabled a single historiographic narrative line to be stretched from the ancient to the modern era. Upon its establishment, the state of Israel expropriated the multiple exilic memories of its citizens and recast them as the national memory."

Yehouda Shenhav, The Arab Jews: A Postcolonial Reading of Nationalism, Religion, and Ethnicity (2006)

#palestine #history #zionism #library

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gardensnakie · 2 months

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OC ALERT❓️❗️❓️❗️

They look so emo on the top one but Ive been drawing the eyes for so long and idc if it looks like they are wearing makeup. But they probably would so yay problem solved. I put the other one there cause I like it as well. This character shifts a lot, in appearance and the personaility they give off, so i kinda like the absractness of it. (But that could be me having the hardest time being consistant with my characters)

Meet Yui Nakai, they are the worst thing to have ever existed. Listen, the following list is literally all the crimes they have done canonically.

Mass murder

Child endangerment

Child murder

Animal cruelty

Identity theft (Up to 5 identites taken in the span of a few months once)

Fraud

Forging documents

Aggravated assult against a police officer

Tax fraud

Stalking

And probably more ( thanks .@dazed-moth for giving some good examples )

They are a part of a story I've had in my head for a long while I call 'Duck, Duck, Goose!' So yippee :>>

Semi-Process images: Junk

#oc art #oc #duck duck goose!#art #my art #art process #digital art #original character

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nova--spark · 5 months

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Earth 101 : A Manual for the Visiting Cybertronian

Chapter Four: Proper Alt Mode Selection

When it comes to our operations on Earth, we are all well aware that we must operate under a very strict understanding and motto.

‘Robots in Disguise’.

This is a motto which we have operated under since the early 1980s of our arrival, and even longer in accordance to the Maximals and yes, Predacons, who also once took refuge on Earth in eons past.

Of course that said, the choosing of an Alt Mode must always be done with the awareness of where your primary station is, that is, where you are posted for missions and the surrounding atmosphere.

For example, our beloved Prime, Optimus himself, chose a mode specific to his size that would blend in rather appropriately within human society.

His choice of being a semi-truck who are known for traversing miles and miles of roads on Earth, was well as their coloring ranging from muted to brilliant colors, and size range as well as various attachments. This has led to him being expertly camouflaged out in the open during various missions.

When choosing your alt mode thus, keep in mind where and what your talents and work will be aligned to.

Further examples can be found in some of our soldiers and medics, and even more so, with the previously mentioned Sigma-17 team who are all equipped with various rescue measures due to their alt modes, which for their further line of work, is a most appropriate choice.

Other examples would be found within our Maximal allies, who's techno-organic forms are an evolutionary marvel when it comes to our adaptive capabilities. This has been beneficial to their survival in particular moments, as it has made them able to more easily hide amongst the organic environments of their home planets or explorations.

Editor’s Note:As someone with an alt mode which pays homage to the Earth creature known as the ‘Barn Owl’, I am perhaps a tad biased. But that said, it has made flying through the archives near endless halls and floors quite a fun game of sorts, and a bit of an obstacle course too, when particular shelves move.

When it comes to ground bound frames, it is beneficial to take a form that you feel most comfortable in, and that you have the mass to change into when transforming.

Keep in mind that different vehicles also can alter our biology, meaning additional functions.

For example, many a bot who took a construction related form, often found themselves with a much sturdier frame, able to tank a few more hits, as well as aid in the building of bases, and clearing of damage post battle.

War frames crowd rather easily to well known military vehicles, ranging from regular transports, to tanks, jets and more.

Scouts can heavily benefit from alt modes derived from motorcycles, race cars and other high speed vehicle modes, meaning they can faster go through various spaces.

However, those who choose forms such as motorcycles will be advised to deploy a holoform in order to maintain the image of a vehicle that is driven by a human, as it can be quite unnerving to humans to see an unmanned vehicle moving.

Editor’s Note: It appears that self driving vehicles are slowly becoming more common! More information to be added as the subject is researched further for possible application to operations on Earth.

It is quite notable that you also choose a proper color scheme, as though we are all forged with certain colors, we may change them with time, and after further research, it is to be noted that human officers of police forces take specific note of particular vehicle colors.

Cars in vibrant colors and paint jobs, motorcycles and luxury cars often get pulled over more frequently are pulled over as a result, meaning these alt modes are to be advised to have an active holoform and proper documentation for instances like this if possible.

Further information of proper vehicle documentation will be covered in a future chapter pertaining to the human Department of Motor Vehicles, known more commonly as the DMV.

Some of us, particularly scouts, spies, intelligence agents also all take on the most casual forms in comparison to many of us, blending in so perfectly well, one would never even tell they’re something else entirely unless looking closer.

In comparison, particular mechs and femmes who will not be named, do tend to choose rather luxurious and expensive alt modes which can result in adverse reactions in humans, depending the environment they are found in.

Be wary of packs of adolescents humans if you have picked an alt mode usually associated with the wealthy population on Earth. They very well could destroy your finish or otherwise ruin your paint job.

Please ensure to lock your doors while in vehicle mode, there are humans who partake in 'car jacking', 'hot wiring' and other forms of harm that may attempt to, in lack of better terms, kidnap you in vehicle form, known on earth as 'grand theft automobile '.

Choosing your Alt mode ,above all else, is something that you must do so with the mindset that it will be something you feel most comfortable in.

An alt mode is a representation of yourself, something that resonates with a part of you and even a way to express yourself.

By this logic, we must seek a form that feels right for us, above all else.

For transformation and change is our nature, and how we express ourselves above all else.

#transformers #maccadam #maccadams #transformers prime #tfp #tf prime #tf rid 2015 #tf rid15 #nova writings #earth 101 : a manual for the visiting cybertronian

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aemiron-main · 4 months

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It Was Victor's Uncle That Died: South Bend, Edward and the Creels- Reference to Edward in the NEW FULL WEEKLY WATCHER?? (Also Comparing The Various Weekly Watcher Articles)

So, first of all, MASSIVE MASSIVE thank you to this wonderful twitter user who posted photos of the items from the ST memorabilia box- and specifically, pictures of the newspaper articles.

And after I sent those pictures of the Victor article to Stav, Wilbur, and James, Stav pointed out that it said that the Creels were from South Bend, Indiana:

(Which, sidenote, the inheritance now being from Victor’s uncle rather than Virginia’s great uncle makes me insane because it ties PERFECTLY into what I talked about in this post regarding how Victor just says “her uncle had died” but doesn’t specify WHOSE uncle, like he doesn’t say Virginia’s name, and he could be be referring to Daughter Alice in the Henry timeline or also could be referring to Daughter Virginia in the Edward timeline and and how Daughter Alice or Daughter Virginia’s great uncle would be Victor’s uncle, JUST LIKE WHAT THIS PAPER SAYS!! I WAS RIGHT!!!)

And I was actually working on another draft about this, but I mentioned on discord awhile ago that the University of Notre Dame was founded by a guy named Edward, and is in South Bend, Indiana, and how that was interesting considering that “Up Around the Bend,” by Creedence Clearwater Revival plays while Eddie Munson (local deliverer of Edward subtext) is in the winnebago:

So, the Creels, according to this full Weekly Watcher article, were from the same place that Nancy and Robin claimed they went to school/forged school documents from (South Bend, Indiana and Notre Dame University), which was founded by a guy named Edward. And yet IM supposed to believe that Edward is a production error??? ABSOLUTELY NOT!! This (the south bend thing) is a reference to Edward in the WEEKLY WATCHER, which isnt even the EDWARD PAPER, thats the HENRY paper!!!!!

Which, the Creels being from South Bend makes a hell of a lot more sense than Rachel, Nevada, which is where the Creels are supposedly from according to TFS. It makes a hell of a lot more sense because Rachel, Nevada didn’t even exist in 1959.

And of course, there’s the question of whether or not this aligns with the actual in-show Weekly Watcher article.

And no! It doesn’t! Parts of it do, but large parts of it (images etc) do not!

BUT! BUT BUT! BEFORE you go “oh yeah lol this is unreliable & just made for the memoirbilia thing”, keep in mind that the in-show Weekly Watcher that Nancy and Robin find in the library is NOT the only Weekly Watcher article that we see about the Creel murders- there’s two more.

First of all, there’s the Weekly Watcher article from the Netflix Tudum trailer- which I’ve talked about in posts like this post, this post, and other posts I'm forgetting rn.

And that tudum Weekly Watcher article is also NOT THE SAME as the in-show Weekly Watcher article.

And the tudum Weekly Watcher article is ALSO not the same as this new full Weekly Watcher article- but PARTS OF IT ARE, and both the tudum version and this memoirbilia box version have things that are NOT in the in-show version.

Here’s a full rundown of the In-Show Weekly Watcher vs the Memoirbilia Box Weekly Watcher vs the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher and the similarities and differences between them.

In-Show Weekly Watcher vs Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher

Things That Are The Same

Both the In-Show Weekly Watcher article and the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher article have the same section talking about Alice finding a possum in her duvet & the Creel lawn turning black (however, these sections are not in the same place in the article, see the differences section)

Both the In-Show Weekly Watcher article and the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher article have the same photo of the Creel family at the same size

The dates of both the articles are the same- March 26th, 1959.

Both the In-Show Weekly Watcher article and the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher article have the same caption above the blood bath photo, although they have different photos.

Things That Are Different

The sections talking about Alice finding a dead possum in her duvet & the Creel lawn turning black are in two different places in each article. The in-show Weekly Watcher has that section on the same page as the Creel family photo & Victor’s mugshot, whereas the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher has it on a totally separate page with a brand new picture of Young Victor that doesn’t appear in ANY other papers, and another photo of the Creel house, as well as closeup pictures of Alice, Henry, and Virginia.

The in-show Weekly Watcher has NO bloody bedspread photo (which the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher does have)- instead , the in-show Weekly Watcher has a picture of what seems to be the Creel bathroom.

The In-Show Weekly Watcher jumps right into the article on the first page- the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher has a list of other articles in the paper.

The little box about "Lana stalked by crazed fan" has "page 5" written under it in the In-Show Weekly Watcher article, whereas that same box and title has "page 6" written under it instead in the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher article.

Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher vs Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher

Things That Are The Same

Both the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher and the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher have the bloody bed photo

(Also, there’s something about that bloody, stained bed + the South Bend vs Edward thing vs Eddie Munson talking about the stains on his bed)

Both the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher article and the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher article have the front page that lists other articles instead of jumping right into the article

The dates of both the articles are the same- March 26th, 1959.

Things That Are Different

The article snippets beside that bloody bed photo are not the same.

The articles listed on the front page are different- the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher article lists an article titled "Policeman shot 12 times survives" on page 3, whereas the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher article lists an article titled "Elvis Presley cloned by aliens," on page 3 instead of the article about the police officer.

The caption above the blood bath photo is different. The Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher article's caption above the blood bath photo says "Crime scene photos from inside the Creel Home obtained EXCLUSIVELY by TWW reveal a complete blood bath," whereas the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher article's caption above the blood bath photo says "Crime scene photos from inside the Creel Home obtained EXCLUSIVELY by THE WEEKLY WATCHER reveal a complete blood bath..." The key differences here are a.) The Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher article abbreviating The Weekly Watcher as 'TWW" whereas the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher article spells it out as THE WEEKLY WATCHER, and b.) the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher article ends the caption with "..." whereas the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher article has no punctuation at the end.

Things That Are Unknown/Not Visible

The part about the possum in Alice’s duvet simply isn’t visible in the Tudum Trailer version- because much of that article is cut off, there’s no way of knowing if it’s in there.

The caption under the blood bath photo isn't visible in the Tudum Trailer version because that section is cut off, so there's no way of knowing if it's in there.

The In-Show Weekly Watcher vs The Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher

Things That Are The Same

Both articles have the same photo of the Creel family, even though the sizes of those photos are different

The dates of both the articles are the same- March 26th, 1959.

Things That Are Different

The photo of the Creel family in the In-Show Weekly Watcher is much smaller than the photo of the Creel family in the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher

There is a single column of text beside Victor’s mugshot in the In-Show Weekly Watcher, whereas there is a double column of text beside Victor’s mugshot in the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher

The text beside the bloodbath photo is different in both the In-Show Weekly Watcher and the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher.

The caption above the blood bath photo is different in the In-Show Weekly Watcher and the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher. The In-Show Weekly watcher article's caption above the blood bath photo says "Crime scene photos from inside the Creel Home obtained EXCLUSIVELY by THE WEEKLY WATCHER reveal a complete blood bath..." whereas the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher article's caption above the blood bath photo says "Crime scene photos from inside the Creel Home obtained EXCLUSIVELY by TWW reveal a complete blood bath" The key differences here are a.) The Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher article abbreviating The Weekly Watcher as 'TWW" whereas the In-Show Weekly Watcher article spells it out as THE WEEKLY WATCHER, and b.) the In-Show Weekly Watcher article ends the caption with "..." whereas the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher article has no punctuation at the end.

Things That Are Unknown/Not Visible

The part about the possum in Alice’s duvet simply isn’t visible in the Tudum Trailer version- because much of that article is cut off, there’s no way of knowing if it’s in there.

The caption under the blood bath photo is cut off in both the In-Show Weekly Watcher and the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher.

I can't quite make out what page the "Lana stalked by crazed fan" thing has listed in the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher. It's visible/not cut off, but too blurry for me to make out the number.

I’m also sure there’s more differences/similarities between these papers, but I’m tired right now, and so I’ll save any further digging there for a future post.

Second of all, there’s also the TFS Weekly Watcher article. Which, I talked about that in this post, but TLDR, they do NOT show us very much of the TFS Weekly Watcher.

But here’s a comparison of what we CAN see.

TFS Weekly Watcher vs Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher

Things That Are The Same

Basically just the main title, which is the same on all of the Weekly Watcher articles. However, there could be more that's the same, but I can't read it because a.) they only showed us the front page of the TFS Weekly Watcher and b.) they didn't even let us read that article that's on the front page because it went by so fast/I couldn't read it & don't have footage of it because of the angle I was at.

Things That Are Different

The front pages are different. The TFS Weekly Watcher's front page jumps right to the article, like the In-Show Weekly Watcher does, instead of listing other articles on the front page.

Things That Are Unknown/Not Visible

I can't read the date on the TFS Weekly Watcher article even though it's visible, it's just too blurry for me to read.

I can't read the page number for the "Lana stalked by crazed fan" thing on the TFS Weekly Watcher- if I had to guess, I would say it's a 5, but I can't be sure.

The TFS Weekly Watcher article could be the exact same as the In-Show Weekly Watcher article. It's just that there's not enough visible information for the TFS Weekly Watcher article to say for certain that they're identical.

Long story short: I'm taking this Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher article, and the info in it, as canon. Here’s why:

1.) it’s already established via the differences between the Tudum Trailer Weekly Watcher and the In-Show Weekly Watcher that various versions of the Weekly Watcher are going to be different from eachother, so the Memorabilia Box Weekly Watcher is not alone/special in that regard.

2.) this was further established by TFS & the alternate versions of the Indianapolis Gazette article about the Creel murders that are shown in TFS.

3.) the information in this Memorabilia Box article (such as Victor’s uncle being the one that died) aligns perfectly with stuff I was saying based on the show BEFORE I read this Memorabilia Box article- that’s a little too suspicious/coincidental if this was just a random article that wasn’t meant to be canon.

4.) Either way, they wrote this paper up and released it as official merch. Somebody associated with Netflix (at the very LEAST) got permission for the information here to be sent out as if it’s the canon Weekly Watcher article.

#stranger things #henry creel #edward creel #creel newspapers

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underrrtaleee-freakk · 28 days

Text

!!INTRODUCING RADIANT SANS!!!

Trigger warnings: Lots of bright highlighted text, Mentions of illegal experimentations, mentions of killing, mentions of spores, mentions of kidnapping, implied and mentioned torture, mentions of mental break downs and mental health issues, lightly implied alcoholism, mentions of self harm. Mentions of explosions.

Other mentions, links to youtube videos, long post, spelling mistakes errors or run of sentences are probably sprinkled in sorry.

Au By @thelunarsystemwrites For those sanses, any sanses i forgot to @ and more information about the au look here https://www.tumblr.com/thelunarsystemwrites/745893271201579008/inviting-other-artists

Radiant (A Underfell Villain au sans) by me. Original Underfell sans by @underfell Nightmare by @analexthatexists

Blue by @createbellatheartist

Sorry not sorry for 4 different images.

Anyways lore times:

Radiant was a Normal Underfell sans aged somewhere between 21-24 living his normal life before one day a group of scientists kidnapped him and experimented on him.

While they tried to take reds fancy rings chains and clothes red always managed to escape and find where they were hidden, till the scientists gave up on taking them away.

During the experiments red developed fire powers. The scientists realising this powerful potential decided to try and make him be a weapon to take down those pesky heros and their rival villains one of these Villains being The Supervillain Nightmare. So they could continue doing inhumane experiments and have goverment levels of control.

Red Didn’t listen to any of this however. As he couldn’t care less. He hated these scientists and one day those pesky scientists made a mistake. They left him unsupervised for 2 minutes. In a room with a flammable object.

Screams can be heard as the building explodes.

Red makes his escape destroying the place to the ground. Unannounced to him during the moment, this action would have unforeseen consequences. After escaping red realized he had no where to go, this wasn’t his home and some of the scientists managed to escaped. And so he returned to the sene of the crime looking for anything that could be useful to him. He found the remains of the documents the scientists had on him.

Using his knowledge from his time working with the now deceased royal scientist W.D Gaster, and these documents Red is able to forge a fake copy of the documents he then uses to create a fake Civilian identity “Red San” (red sans) and convinces them he was a refugee fleeing from there home who then got kidnapped and just escaped there tormentors.

The government somehow fell for this.

Red was given a citizenship, some clothes red thought were uglier then a dead rat, a new phone (his old one blew up with the laboratory) and an apartment. (He’s renting out someone’s basement) however like most refugees red wasn’t given all this for free!! He had to get a job and pay for his new “apartment” which wasn’t. Very easy. Safe to say he got fired from many establishments only after working there for a day or 2. Some of it being his fault due to him picking fights, and some of it being the owners just simply not liking him and kicking him out. Not only that but they were all for minimum wage.

Eventually he got so desperate for money that he broke into a random dudes house to steal clothes. Where he met Blue in his Civilian form, who decided to befriend the burglar instead of pressing charges! They exchanged phone numbers and blue let red keep the clothes he had grabbed.

However even after meeting a kind stranger, red felt frustrated. He was getting nowhere with these jobs and if he wanted to get revenge on those scientists that managed to survive the explosions he’d have to try a different approach.

He became. RADIANT. a Fire powered Villain.

Upon his debut as a new villain in the city he found himself making a lot of new enemies. But he didn’t care he had a goal in mind. He was gonna get what he wanted no matter what.

Radiants Powers and weaknesses

Super powers

Fire manipulation; This involves

* Creating fire.

* Manipulating pre existing fire.

* Fire based flight.

* Dissipating fire.

* Semi Fire immunity. (Can survive in fire longer then the average skeleton/monster/human)

* Fire Blasters, His blasters are very rarely used, since the accident his fire powers have combine with them to make a fire blaster. These blasters shoot out fire beams and are far stronger then regular blasters and are inherently unstable. (See fire blasters in weaknesses for more info.)

* He still has all the other powers of a normal sans since hes still technically a sans. But his fire abilities are his most noteable and destructive part of his powers. And he doesn’t use his regular non affected powers often.

*Due to his fire abilities he is the only sans canonically confirmed to be amune to nightmares spores. As he can heat up his body enough to kill of the infection before it gets serious.

strengths unrelated to powers

*Red used to work for doctor Gaster as a scientist meaning he has a strong sense of intelligence and can create and manipulate complex machinery, potions and other sciencey things, However a lack of funding or access to these materials makes it so he can’t abuse this power.

Power Weaknesses.

Water; This involves

* water can put out his flames

* if blasted with a large amount of water while flying he will temporarily be unable to continue flying and will fall out of the sky. Also works to prevent him from taking of into the sky. However its not permanent

*his own Fire blasters, These fire blasters are very unstable. And can be dangerous to himself as well as others so he tries not to use them unless absolutely nessisary. As there is a chance he can severely harm himself with them.

Non power weaknesses;

* he also never learned how to swim… so throwing him into a large body of water could take him out of commission temporarily. Untill he either a. gets his barrings and teleports out…or b. is knocked uncontious and gets saved by someone.

However if he learns how to swim your doomed. ;)

* he is very family oriented, if you attack or kidnap his brother or extremely close friends he will go appeshit crazy. However if you told him you’d let his brother go free unharmed if he went with you willing he’d sacrifice himself in a heartbeat he has that “id die for you” mentality. He would spend years locked up in a cell being torchured for the few people he still has left in his life if it ment they could be safe and free.

* abandonment issues/ fear of being alone. This causes red to have attachment issues, pushing others away in fear he will get attached then abandoned by them, but also heavy longing if away from people he does care about for long periods of time. Red can have mental break downs if he believes he’s completely alone. With no one wanting him.

* he is an insomniac so he doesn’t get enough sleep and can sometimes pass out at inconvenient times.

* Red has ptsd and trust issues from becoming an orphan and raising his bro on the streets by himself in a dangerous world at a young age, gasters death, the asgore incident, his sudden break up with Alphys imedently following the Asgore incident, and the kidnapping with the evil scientists.

Radiant will have a redemption arc but since i have no current plans on turning this into a fic or a comic Ive sectioned up the main parts of his arc so you can get the feel of it.

Arc 1

Summary:

Red gets kidnapped by scientists and experimented on, however he escapes and finds himself in a strange new surface world and attempts to fit in. However after realizing his goals cannot be met this way he takes to a life of crime. But keeps up the civilian identity he made so the police don’t search for him as a “missing persons case”. He meets a guy named Blue, and starts hanging out with him, they become friends, however unknown to him, he fights him when their in their hero/villain forms, neither knowing its there civilian friend. He also starts writing letters to an unknown person. However none of these letters are ever sent as that persons whereabouts aren’t currently known to Red. Reds shown to miss this person and some other people. He fights with hero’s and villains and steals from buildings. Usually tech. He doesn’t tell anyone what his true goals are. This lasts about a year.

Relationships:

Family: Brother Edge

Friends: Fell Toriel, Fell Alphys, Mettafell, Chillby, Civilian Blue

Allies:

Enemies: Hero vr of Blue, Nightmare and his gang. Other hero’s. Evil scientists.

Arc 2

Summary:

if this was a fic or comic this is where the audience would find out about Reds traumatic backstory and his true goals and motivations. Its reviled Reds been making a portal. So that he can return to Underfell. As it turns out when he destroyed the laboratory that experimented on him, he destroyed the portal machine that brought him to this world, permanently trapping him here. His main goal this whole time has been to find a way home. Its also reviled to the audience these letters were addressed to Edge. Reds younger brother who he’s been missing dearly. Reds so close to finally finishing the portal machine. He’s so close to finally going home after months? Days? Years? He’s not sure how long Hes been trapped here. Red manages to get the portal open, however before he steps threw he double checks the statistics, he has to be sure he wont be stepping into some other unknown crazy au that isn’t his home first….however the portal isn’t stable, it blows up the machine before he can finish checking……all his hard work. Gone. But theres still hope, the statistics are still intact, any info on there he can still use to help him in rebuilding the portal even better then before!!- The camrea turns to show the statistics. It says “Underfell timeline 1121. Day 24 Month June, Year 210X”

……what? Red starts going into a frenzy as he reveals to the audience the day he was kidnapped was the 23rd of June 210X…..it had only been a single day for the people of his world since he was kidnapped. But Red had spent months no Over a YEAR in this place and yet. It had only been a day there? A single 24 hours!? NOBODY WAS EVEN MISSING HIM!?! THEY DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HE WAS GONE!?! Red couldn’t handle this realization and started breaking down. Laughing manically. He started questioning if anything was even worth it, if anyone loved him. Until his despair became something worse. Desperation. He was now DESPERATE to get home. Other then asking for help. He would do ANYTHING to get home. This arc is when Reds most likely to team up with villains, is more violent and inconsistent with his attacks on the city, Before Red ends up going on a FULL RAMPAGE of the city attacking anyone on sight. Until during that rampage he admits to the hero’s of the city he’s stuck here. That he didn’t choose to be here and that he’s mentally in so much pain. (However he doesn’t revile his true identity in this arc.) Before he breaks down sobbing and collapses on the ground. The arc ends with Red on the ground sobbing. this arc only lasts a couple of months to half a year.

Relationships:

Family: Brother Edge

Friends: Fell Toriel, Fell Alphys, Mettafell, Chillby, Civilian Blue

Allies:

Enemies: Hero vr of Blue, Nightmare and his gang. Other hero’s. Evil scientists.

Arc 3

Summary:

Arc 3 picks up right where arc 2 left off with Red sobbing on the ground. Until Blue lifts out their hand to Red offering a second chance. Red’s hesitant but with nothing left to lose he takes it, Red then has a slow redemption arc where he switches back n forth between doing villainous acts and distrusting the hero’s, to helping people and becoming close to the hero’s, its basically one big long zuko hurt/comfort like redemption arc. With moments of him betraying them, only to come back apologies and make it up to the hero’s and his civilian friends. Red slowly becomes friends with the hero’s slowly building trust, he does community service, forfeits all his stolen tech for his portal. And eventually reviles his true identity to the hero’s and the others, admits to the forged documents, he tells Blue, not yet knowing he’s the hero who offered him redemption, and his other Civilian friends that he wasn’t a good person and was lying to them, opens up about his traumas and ptsd, Until he fully quits being a villain and decides to become a hero. And completely gives up on ever going home or seeing his family and friends again. Seeing the hero’s as his new found family. Tho he still deeply misses his old one.

this arch is also about a year long.

Relationships:

Family: Brother Edge

Friends: Fell Toriel, Fell Alphys, Mettafell, Chillby, Blue

Allies: Blue

Enemies: Nightmare and his gang. Other hero’s. Evil scientists.

Arc 4

Summary:

After Reds fully redeemed himself the hero’s decide he’s earned the right to go home. And they work tirelessly to make him a functioning portal home. And when it works they surprise him with it. By this point it’s been almost 4 years since Reds been in Underfell. Since Reds seen his brother or his friends. And he can finally get to go home!! But- if he went home it would mean he has to leave behind his new friends and found family right? He surely couldn’t keep them in his life he couldn’t possibly have both he’d have to choose. But… He’s grown so attached….how could he possibly choose between this world and his home world? Red doesn’t immediately take the portal home saying he needs time to think, the hero’s accept this and give him time, despite how much they’ve grown to love Red and would miss him dearly, they also know its best for him to go home if thats what they he wants. Eventually Red laments how he cant choose. He cant leave them all behind. But he wants to go home so badly. The hero’s laugh asking him what took him so long to admit that. Saying he could go back n forth if he wants to. They have the funding they could make it so the portal can opened or closed whenever, Red doesn’t have to chose!!, thanking his friends, Red steps through the portal. Meeting face to face with a very visibly shocked and worried Edge. As it turns out people DID notice Red was missing and DID deeply miss him!! And for the first time in almost 4 years Red hugs his little brother. Red then procceeds to have Underfell and hero au sinanigans with slowly intrudicing his old friends to his new friends and working as a hero while trying to rehabilitate his world and the criminals in the new world. However he does understand some people cannot be redeemed. And will kill if it’s for self defense. He’s like Teetering the line between an antihero and a regular hero but hes still accepted by the hero’s cause they know he wont do anything mega violent unless absolutely desperate. Red lives out the rest of his life going back and forth. With hiccups here and there. But they always work it out in the end eventually. Or to the best of their abilities.

Relationships:

Family: Brother Edge

Friends: Fell Toriel, Fell Alphys, Mettafell, Chillby, Blue

Allies: Blue

Enemies: Nightmare and his gang. Evil scientists.

OTHER STUFF!!

Fell Papyrus name is Edge

Fell sans name is Red san/sans and his villain name is Radiant

Fell grilbies name is Chillby

Fell mettaton’s name is Mettafell

Stuff thats mostly the same as canon underfell:

Reds jacket was given to him by chillby.

Reds backstory with asgore almost killing him and edge getting his scar to save him is the same.

Reds backstory of working with gaster before gaster lost hope and died is the same.

Edge still defeated undyne in a brawl and became second in command

Reds fav foods are still burgers, hot dogs, mustard, relish, and still likes martinis and drinks alot, he likes puns and jokes, and despite no longer being one he still likes science

Red and edge are close, but red hides a lot of things from his brother. And feels immense guilt for not being able to protect himself or edge from Asgore. (Which has caused him to stubbornly try to “make up for it”. By over working himself to pay there entire houses rent so edge doesn’t have to waste a gold coin. At least before he got kidnapped)

Stuff thats different:

Red and edge were orphans taken in by gaster till he died.

Red and alphys used to date but they broke up after asgore tried to kill red.

Red spent alot of time isolated in his life and when he did have people he lost them which is why he has abandonment issues.

Red is bisexual, demisexual and was nonbinary/intersex (can skeletons be intersex?) who then came out as trans masc and his prounouns are He/Him/They/Them and for those kinda people wondering hes also a switch.

Reds insomnia is due to nightterrors.

Red self harms..

Red stole that white shirt from blue, but he cut out the stains and sewed white fabric in its place, its not the best but it isn’t noticeable from far away, he also steals blues tacos sometimes, blue lets him, which confuses red.

Songs i feel like relate to Radiant/Red:

Again remix by Kira on youtube, https://youtu.be/sePdMu5fqNQ?si=zEoEKeT3LTt3AM1G

youtube

Ghost rule english cover by Lollia on youtube, https://youtu.be/iroTL9Kw6fU?si=LnApj0U4TM7P5WIE

youtube

Spare me! https://youtu.be/I2J2N1i8I2k?si=VKxGGREqblG_Fxeq

youtube

Ans Fan the Flame by PrinceWhatever on youtube

youtube

Canon Ships: fell Undyne x Alphys, Fell Papyton, Fell Toriel x Asgore, they Broke up but past red x alphys

Now for the non canon stuff!!

Not cannon but could change? ships: Fellby, Cherryberry?? Maybe?? Don’t count on it.

Not cannon at all but i still like these ships: Dustard, Horrorfell, Scifell

Potential friends or enemies but not cannon as i haven’t asked: sci, dream, core, lust, outer, ink, ccino, alter, dance, cross, swan and potentially others.

Wow thanks for reading all the way to the end did you enjoy it?

Let me know if you want your blog @‘d for your sans being mentioned. I only @‘d the ones with the most relevance to reds story so far, but i can @ you if you want.

#undertale #sans #undertale au #utmv #undertale fandom #utmv superhero au #superhero au #Supervillain #Villain #Hero #Radiant (Red) Sans #someone elses post said there friends told them to keep it simple. hahahahah #well dont worry MINES NOT SIMPLE EITHER.#spent so many nights #on this #Youtube

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variousqueerthings · 1 year

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the funny thing about the obsession with "why" james barry lived as a man his whole life, is that people will go out of their way to invent reasons that just aren't documented anywhere -- anything from "running away to be with a soldier" to "dreading the confines of womanhood in that era and simply having no other option" to "actually it was all the rich dudes in barry's life who made it happen, without barry having any say"

and really the only stuff we have on it is that 1. barry at one point (pre-transition/as a kid) wrote in a letter that if he weren't a girl, he'd be a soldier, 2. that at some point barry began -- with support in high places -- to present and pass as a man throughout medical school and the army and 3. that barry was very insistent on his manliness -- specifically his gentlemanliness -- throughout his life

there aren't clues in there that he secretly missed being a woman, but simply had to go on for the sake of career, that he couldn't consent to his own lived experiences (the whole great-to-read-about thing about him is that he was so stubborn in his ideals that he frequently got into trouble), and the only person he may have slept with according to any evidence was the Lord Somerset of Cape Town, after they'd known each other for a bit (also Somerset called him "the most wayward of men" which is charming + speaks a bit to some of the political tensions in their relationship as well, and despite those they remained very very close up until Somerset's death)

what there are plenty of context clues for is that he really quite enjoyed being a man. he consistently described himself as a gentleman, apparently enjoyed very nice and polished uniforms, and wasn't shy about being seen and heard in terms of the work he did, the ideals he held, and simply the cultural spaces he was invited to (especially around Cape Town)

(there's also something in there about how he feels medicine ought to be practiced, which is a different post, but the way he -- somewhat snobbishly, but understandably, given the context of both his own life and the lack of oversight about medicine in Cape Town -- talks about himself through the lens of having studied medicine, also speaks to a pride in himself as a man who has forged his own destiny... this is me writing it a little over the top, but the suggestion is there in at least one of his letters. he doesn't sound upset/regretful about his choices, he sounds proud to have done the work that he did, and to be the person he is. if anything, barry's gender is specifically: 1. gentleman and 2. medical man)

like. it's wild that it's so difficult for so many writers to believe that barry liked being a guy, when that is the most obvious image that presents itself, based on his own letters and the way others described him while he was still alive

#james barry #we're back on it again #queer history #trans history #queer stuff #it's also interesting to see how people read his relationship with somerset #either they try to bypass it completely or they try to straighten it #but the act of gender non-conformity has already queered it so they end up doing the most fascinating gymnastics #this not so much about the fictional accounts #but the so-called non-fiction ones hooboy

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nomsfaultau · 5 months

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More animatic! Slowly but surely

Analysis under cut! Tw religion and suicidal thoughts

This stanza depicts the Foundation’s false removal of Tommy from Philza’s Collected.

The first line speaks of the symbolic marriage of the church to Jesus. This aligns with Tommy’s dynamic with Philza as one reciprocally devoted to a god. However, it is a relationship that is seemingly severed. In reading the bland document, Tommy’s self deprecating thoughts appear in red between the lines. Tommy believes he isn’t providing a ‘dowry’ i.e. he doesn’t believe he is able to make up for the burden he is on Philza. The line (the pyrite is showing through) is two fold. It represents both Tommy thinking Philza has finally seen through him as well as the false nature of the Foundation’s forged contract.

Tommy imagines Philza disguising hurting him through acts of affection, as shown with Philza embracing him even as he claws Tommy open. This reflects how later Tommy finds Philza’s physical affection painful even after realizing he wasn’t really unCollected. He associates the affection as a precursor to pain that’ll only make it hurt more when Philza truly abandons him.

Lastly, (It won’t buy you that empty tomb) is paired with an image of Tommy in his Grey period as a result of being abandoned. If the empty tomb -i.e., resurrection, a deliverance from tragedy- cannot be earned, instead you’re left with a filled tomb, alluding to Tommy becoming suicidal.

#Fault animatic #fault analysis #fault au #scp tommyinnit #scp philza #tommyinnit #philza #sbi scp au #Scp ocs #scp foundation #tw religion #tw religious themes #tw sui ideation #tw suicidality #Man the abandonment issues. Crazy how that happened.#angel duo #angel duo fanart #something to nom on #rose animatic

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flipping-the-coin · 29 days

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[Inquisitorial Report: Subject - Megatron of Kaon]

[Authorization Level: Alpha (Elite Guard Selective)]

[Listed Authorizations: Head Elite Guardsmech Smokescreen]

[Assigned Inquisitor: Hush]

[15 Vorns after Cybertron’s Restoration - Ten Stellar-cycles into assignment]

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It has been a quiet three stellar cycles, at least by Megatron and Orion standards. Megatron and Orion did some traveling around lower Iacon and spent time at the shops to celebrate their conjunxing anniversary. They were disgustingly romantic as always and got some iced energon which they shared with comically small spoons. They also danced under the light of Luna 1 on the roof and shared a few kisses. I got a few pictures of their whole date because it was, admittedly, rather cute. I left them on the table for Megatron to review. He actually smiled when he saw the pictures I took. I went to great lengths to get excellent images of Orion. Megatron isn’t the greatest photographer and the last one that was hired to take some anniversary pictures for my targets fled the scene a moment after arriving.

Orion was so fragging sad after he failed to get anyone willing to take pictures. So honestly I am just happy I could help. Orion is a good mech deep down. I didn’t think so when I first got here, but then again, I didn’t think Megatron was capable of love either. I don’t believe that anymore. I’ve been here almost a full vorn and I have seen more than I would have liked to. But through those experiences, I can safely say that their affection is genuine. Orion’s name has been slandered for no real reason and Megatron, while formerly a mech worthy of being jailed, is no longer who he once was. I can’t look at wartime pictures of Megatron and see the same mech who sits hunched over at his desk in the afternoon to write poetry.

Don’t worry, I left a note with the pictures. I forged a document that stated I was a photographer from a company I made up which I have named ‘Melody Photographics & Landscaping’. Megatron grinned and smiled up at my vent when he saw it. I think he appreciates my efforts. I know Orion certainly did. When he got the pictures he was ecstatic and gushed at Megatron for a half groon about how lovely the photos came out. Of course then he praised Megatron for a long while for being able to find a photographer and for surprising him with pictures after their anniversary. But I am just happy to see them happy. It’s kind of strange, but after being here so long, their joy has begun to infect me.

I know that protocol dictates that I am meant to get my memory files uploaded and then wiped, but I would like to keep these ones, at least until my mission is complete. Sure I’ve seen some things, but I’m happy with that. There are enough good memories to drown out the scary ones.

On another note, ‘Melody Photographics & Landscaping’ has now been ‘hired’ by Megatron to work around the outside of the hab. I forged all the documentation so don’t stress about it, Head Guardsmech. I’ve got some new paint lined up and I plan to begin working in the garden and fixing up the exterior of the hab going forward. Orion is affiliated with the Prime after all. His reputation is tied to our Lord Prime’s. It’s only right that I help fix everything up. I already have a bunch of building material purchased and ready to go. I will begin work once I introduce myself under my alias and get information about what Orion would like the exterior of the hab to look like.

I know it is risky, but I plan to use this alias business of mine to assist Megatron and Orion going forward. I know I am not supposed to be too involved, but I am tired of sitting around. Besides, the sheer level of disrespect thrown at my targets is ridiculous. Few mecha are willing to serve them in public establishments! So if no one else will do it, I will. And before you tell me it's foolish, I have logical reasons behind the choice as well, at least aside from saving our Prime’s reputation. If I am the one supplying them with services, then I will know exactly what they are doing and I will be able to give better reports. With that said, I could use some additional funding going forward. Not much mind you, just enough to buy some tools and more paint.

Oh, and before I forget, Carnage has begun staying with me more often! He comes back far more frequently now and he loves to recharge directly on my chassis. I am not sure why exactly, but I assume it's because a cyber-feline’s hearing is better than my own and he enjoys the sound of my spark. I don’t actually know if he’s a he, but it felt weird to not have some sort of designator for him. I didn’t want to keep calling him an it after he spent so many long nights curled up at my side when I was lonely.

Actually, Carnage has shown me a few interesting things about the hab and the surrounding area. Firstly, there are a few exotic crystals nearby that the records list as being extinct. I have already excavated them and am cultivating them quietly so that they can be put in Orion’s garden once I get permission to get working. Carnage also showed me a store that had a new visor that I may or may not have bought. Sorry, but the one issued by the guard really just didn’t meet my needs. My optics are… incredibly sensitive to anything and everything. Boredom wasn’t the only thing that led me to clean Megatron’s hab obsessively.

Dust hurts. At least now with my new visor, it doesn’t burn as much. I can see without as much suffering on my end.

Lastly, there are tunnel systems, not the ones for the Primes mind you, running beneath a good chunk of Iacon. I think they were sewers connected to the old factory districts from before the war. Most have collapsed, but a few are still in decent enough repair to traverse. One of these tunnels leads directly to that engraver’s house. I’ve found a whole stash of illegal drugs down there. I fully plan to examine that engraver further once I have a free moment. This is getting ridiculous and I refuse to put Orion and Megatron at risk of catching something from fumes.

I read in one of the archive’s files that creating drugs like circuit breakers makes nasty fumes that can make mecha seriously ill. I don’t know if that’s what the engraver is doing or if he’s just a distributor, but I would like a warrant to begin looking into him as well. For all we know, he could be affiliated with some underground network. I think it was Megatron who said it, but in his words, “The black market is always open for business.”

Oh, and before I forget, I think you will be happy to know that Orion Pax has stopped freezing up terribly at depictions of the Prime. He doesn’t need to shield his optics from the billboards anymore. This is huge progress! Although I must admit I agree with Megatron when it comes to those things. They are gross . Our Prime just looks wrong on them. Who allowed the senate to purchase rights to our Prime’s image? I don’t want to point digits at the Primal Steward or the Council, but I think you should look into that because it’s not only disrespectful, but really fragging uncomfortable to look at considering Optimus Prime is a holy figure.

I saw one billboard just the other cycle with our Prime’s image smiling alongside one of his quotes while holding up a cube of energon. It was an energon advertisement. For Primus’s sake, our Prime hasn’t even been dead twenty vorns and he’s already being used to prop up businesses. Can we at least remove the ones around lower Iacon? It’s not like anything will get sold down here anyway. Megatron agrees with me on this front.

No I don’t talk to him directly, but I have made a few noises while he was discussing the billboards by himself. He took that to be a sign of my agreement and honestly, he wasn’t wrong to make that assumption. Megatron wrote a whole article on how disrespectful and wasteful it is to have Optimus Prime literally everywhere across Iacon. How many memorials does he need? He’s holy, yes. I will fully and gladly acknowledge that. But he isn’t some prop to be piloted. Please, look into the situation. I implore you, Head Guardsmech.

That’s all I have to report on for now. Megatron left some more pre war documents out for me, so if you don’t mind, I’ve got some reading to do. I am halfway through a selection of Ascenticon legislation proposals.

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[Report Received: Visibility Status - Seen]

[Note from Head Elite Guardsmech Smokescreen: Hush, are you serious? You are far beyond mere spying now. If you were anyone else, I would have pulled you back and had you sent to a Chaplain. However, considering Megatron has tolerated you so far and even seems to appreciate you, I will leave you be. Just, be careful. He’s unpredictable.]

#maccadam #transformers prime au #transformers #two sides to a coin au #transformers prime #orion pax #megaop #megatron #two sides supplemental writing #hush reports #post war cybertron #cybertronian culture

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