#four new parallels?

[lisa-russell]

Another point I will stick onto my GreyScale Agent 4 Hijacked Security System Avatar Conspiracy Board.

EDIT: Saw the new info. A copy of Four is Still...in a loose sense Four, like have you seen the Lesser Four Copies? The way they all pose and how the last one is just pulled down in the Grey Ooze cause they weren't focusing on 8...It's like the main Copy has all of the Ogs agents skills and drive. Yet pieces of Fours funky personality from in-game cannon got carried over by the portion of Said Soul being drawn in to form a pallette!

Click or tap images tah read and zoom in...So yah gonna tell me non of this has any real correlation or claim? *jabs finger at the images below.*

EDIT: I WAS RIGHT!, so what if The Parallel Cannon is said to be just a copy surronded by lesser copies. Order still had to capture a fraction of Fours Soul and than Copy a template or construct of Four, in the process of also Greyscaling those copies and reprograming them into a Security Force for its own use!

Meanwhile the Original Soul Fragment was WAS USED, to form a Pallete.

So...yah. Its maybe not the full 4 BUT it's also still technically 4 to a degree!

EDIT: Hmph. So I was pretty clam close to the lore!)

I am like 71% convinced that it is Agent 4. Despite. What. The. Game and Off the hook reacts to. Theirs faaaar to much evidence to not considered or convenience, me otherwise!

Another interesting detail is the very boss name itself...

And than these little tid bits below...theres far too much stuff HINTING AT 4...like we all know how Nintendo loooooves tah hide der lore.

EDIT: JUST LIKE THE JELLOTONS FOURS COPY WAS REPROGRAMED AND RECONSRRUCTED INTO A ROLE ONLY ORDER WOULD WANT.

And from dat ominoius statement Baby Order left on 4s Soul Weapon Pallete, I point to this other little fact.

Overlorder...so many little hints at the corrupted A.I twists what was going to be 4s job, or rather reaaaaally likes that idea.

And just inking goes for 4.

We or those who have read Marina's Dev Dairies know the rather horrifying and painfully traumatize process of being Sanitized.

And I point out GreyScaling sounds pretty similar no?

The memverse was made to REVERSE IT, or at least help bring life back to those poor empty husks. Yah, they legit said Husks.

I'm thinking Overlorder took dat Data and used it to form the Greyscaling process, taking advantage of the Glitch or Security Risk in the memverse and sucked up A Soul Fragment of Agent 4s portion via the Shellphone -to form the Copy Amalgamation of Parallel Cannon.

Ironically creating a Security System Avatar.

For its own purpose.

And may I point out, in my run after defeating Marina...it was them who I encountered next as if my 8 had activated the Avatar by excuting some form of alarm system built into the spire. And I recall that Marina made the whole thing to be repeatable, helping 8 or any Sanitized Octo regain their memories--yet when yah defeat dah boss, she reacts if she had never designed or even put in a template for that boss...unlike the other two. Which would explain dah new info e got on Order capturing and copying 4s Agent Skillset and Biodata for its own foul use!

-------(Edit: The famistu interview duddddes.)

A MUCH clearer new info about 4...

See dah part where der made out of sludge?

GREY FAMILIAR LOOKING SLUDGE. Grey Oooze...apparently capable of not only erasing memories and the conscious self, but also copying the Soul Fragments of captured victims when installed or pasted into it, thus creating an Artificial and rather freaky constructs or Avatars for Order to use...

A copy they maybe...but it still had to come from the Original Agent 4.

And I don't think Four would have willingly allowed the Corrupted Order A.i to use their biodata and skillsets for such a dark purpose.

IF yah think about it dis way, they had a fragment of der soul torn from themselves, thus becoming a victim and vulnerable to Greyscaling. THAN that Fragment was, forcibly copied without OGs Fours permission and most likely put through some kind of Greyscaling process, it's body and much like the Jellotons, was reconstructed and copied again tah be used as a weapon...

THAN that remaining OG Soul Fragment as turned into 4s favorite weapon...

Like hers how the describe Fours personality and traits directly from in-game lore:

"Agent 4 is described as a silent squid who goes with the flow even in raging waters, and values freedom and flexibility. They also "blast through any situation with ease." Agent 4 did not initially know who the Squid Sisters were, but later came to respect them after their journey in Octo Canyon. Agent 4, as seen in promo pictures and art, has a diligent work ethic, a lot of confidence, and is extremely free-spirited. Compared to Agent 3, they are shown to be more easygoing and relaxed, yet slightly upbeat in their mannerisms and are constantly depicted as smiling in official art."- Inkipedia

Now try and imagine how having a fragment of their soul captured would effect such a sunshine ray of an Agent... and I could see why Order made a moldable copy of Four. Four would rebel with all der might against Order, like Corrupted Order sounds like their worst nightmare...

And that is my thoughts on dah whole Agent 4 Thang.

#splatoon 3 #splatoon 3 side order #inkling #splatoon3 #new squidbeak splatoon #agent four #agent 4 #splatoon theory #splatoon agent 4 #side order splatoon #splatoon side order #parallel cannon #jelleton

[sundry-whovengerslocked]

Falling

Harry Styles, "Falling" // Doctor Who + The Doctor falling

-

so I noticed the parallel between Thirteen's first act being falling alongside the Timeless Child's sort of "birth" into Gallifrey and that universe.

and then I realized something. The Doctor falls a lot.

of course I had to include the Fourth Doctor in there, because even though they didn't actively show him falling through the air, it was what led to him regenerating. (other Classic Doctors probably have fallen too, but this was the only one I know of.)

as for the Tenth Doctor, I know he didn't want to go, but this was also right after "Time Lord Victorious" and he has a gun in his hand, so, it fits well enough.

I actually can't think of a time that Nine or Fourteen fell from a great height. as for Fifteen, his fall with the mavity glove (and Ruby) was very graceful so I'm not sure it counts here.

honestly this is a bit silly but hopefully the angsty song choice makes up for it.

also I love the joke that the Doctor has slowly developed an immunity to falling (that one post where they compare how Four regenerated from a shorter height than Ten, who essentially walked it off)

#doctor who #falling #parallels #doctor who parallels #original post #the doctor #the doctor falling #the timeless child #fourth doctor #tenth doctor #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #ten #four #eleven #twelve #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #the tardis #new who #classic who #logopolis #the timeless children #the end of time #the doctor the widow and the wardrobe #death in heaven #the woman who fell to earth #harry styles #harry styles falling

[no1ryomafan]

Thought about how given I’ve written so much for getter and rotate enough in my brain I could make hypothetical “how to write this characters” post if those even exists until I remember the factors of:

<the status of the tags doesn’t warrant a lot of writers as is and the only person to ask me this was a irl <I don’t wanna be gatekeepy even if I wouldn’t put my bias into it <who the fuck would it really be about besides ryoma and maybe hayato bc honest to god just grasping the team dynamic of the getter will make you be able to understand each individual pilot <I doubt myself I even write 100% in character despite what I’m told 💀

#meg text #getter robo #fanfic rambles #this came about because I’m so particularly picky about how ryoma is portrayed and while I haven’t seen many awful interpretations #my brain loves to imagine scenarios where someone writes him quirky and I feel myself die inside #for awhile I hated how SRW wrote him but on reflection he’s good! just armas plot never being adapted is a off put #like it’s nice they show him not being just a angry dude because they be more flanderize but it’s weird that it’s ARMA #(even if yeah he has more then four friends this time but it’s still weird) #as for hayato i remembered I thought I had no grasp of his character until I realized “wait I write him not repressing” #*pokes mr Jin with a stick* if canon won’t explore all your emotions I WILL #but these two fucks aside while everyone has their own depth yeah its- just a matter of team dynamics #like obvs go and arc team aren’t copy n paste of OG but they fall under similar traits and intended parallels #the only character I remember I struggled to write for a bit was arma!go but the key thing is to make him not speak a lot #which depending on your story it’s nice to have a weird quiet dude in the flow of a giant conversation 💀 #but for characters like- Michiru who isn’t new?? Go crazy #flesh her out however the fuck

[gas-stxtion]

@oceanoecielo said: 67, for the loaded character questions, for jerry!

[loaded questions - open!]

67. What is one thing people always get wrong about you?

Jerry smiles good-naturedly as he considers the question, cigarette perched between two fingers. "Well, I'd say people don't usually get things wrong about me most of the time--I mean, I try to be a pretty open book usually." It's a pretty obvious lie, and it's not even one he makes much of an effort to hide.

At first, he seems content to leave it at that, but he reconsiders rather quickly as his expression grows more serious.

"If I had to pick one thing," he muses, "it'd be that a lot of people seem to think I'm harmless." His smile returns, a little sharper this time, as he takes a drag from his cigarette, and it remains firmly in place as he breathes out a cloud of smoke. The whole time, he doesn't take his eyes off the person he's talking to.

"Y'see," Jerry says, "I'm pretty stupid, and I know that. I'm not gonna pretend to be something I'm not. But I'll admit that I play it up a bit sometimes to let people think I'm too stupid to be a threat. 'Cause they almost always do--people don't usually take me seriously or recognize that, if I really wanted to, I could wreck their fucking shit."

Just as quickly as it arrived, the eerie seriousness in Jerry's tone vanishes and his grin is as goofy as it was before.

"Either that," he says, "or they assume I'm just high all the time. Which, y'know, isn't totally wrong because I do do a lot of drugs. But I don't do them at work! At least, not most of the time."

#as far as jobs go‚ it's not the best‚ but it's not the worst either {headcanons} #the phone is twenty-five cents a minute‚ paid in advance‚ no exceptions {answered} #tranquility is an empty gas station at four in the morning {in character} #oceanoecielo #❝ i told him i was surprised he was still alive ; he mistook it for a compliment ❞ {jerry pascal} #//wow lookit all those new tags #//[visibly avoiding eye contact with the tag replacer] #//anyway yeah something that fascinates me w/ jerry is that like. he's stupid as fuck. but god he knows what he's doing #//and while a lot of that stupidity is natural a good chunk of it imo is to make him seem less threatening #//tony's approach to seem harmless is to make himself seem pathetic #//jerry's is to make himself seem stupid (well. stupider) #//ok i'm gonna stop there before i start talking about parallels with those two #//but in general i think jerry's role as comedic relief means some ppl forget he's uhh kinda terrifying sometimes #//and i think that's something he leans into

[grasshoppergeography]

Hey All,

I've been away for some time, as we've been working really hard on something quite exciting:

let me present to you the world's first ever global ocean drainage basin map that shows all permanent and temporary water flows on the planet.

This is quite big news, as far as I know this has never been done before. There are hundreds of hours of work in it (with the data + manual work as well) and it's quite a relief that they are all finished now.

But what is an ocean drainage basin map, I hear most of you asking? A couple of years ago I tried to find a map that shows which ocean does each of the world's rivers end up in. I was a bit surprised to see there is no map like that, so I just decided I'll make it myself - as usual :) Well, after realizing all the technical difficulties, I wasn't so surprised any more that it didn't exist. So yeah, it was quite a challenge but I am very happy with the result.

In addition to the global map I've created a set of 43 maps for different countries, states and continents, four versions for each: maps with white and black background, and a version for both with coloured oceans (aka polygons). Here's the global map with polygons:

I know from experience that maps can be great conversation starters, and I aim to make maps that are visually striking and can effectively deliver a message. With these ocean drainage basin maps the most important part was to make them easily understandable, so after you have seen one, the others all become effortless to interpret as well. Let me know how I did, I really appreciate any and all kinds of feedback.

Here are a few more from the set, I hope you too learn something new from them. I certainly did, and I am a geographer.

The greatest surprise with Europe is that its biggest river is all grey, as the Volga flows into the Caspian sea, therefore its basin counts as endorheic.

An endorheic basin is one which never reaches the ocean, mostly because it dries out in desert areas or ends up in lakes with no outflow. The biggest endorheic basin is the Caspian’s, but the area of the Great Basin in the US is also a good example of endorheic basins.

I love how the green of the Atlantic Ocean tangles together in the middle.

No, the dividing line is not at Cape Town, unfortunately.

I know these two colours weren’t the best choice for colourblind people and I sincerely apologize for that. I’ve been planning to make colourblind-friendly versions of my maps for ages now – still not sure when I get there, but I want you to know that it’s just moved up on my todo-list. A lot further up.

Minnesota is quite crazy with all that blue, right? Some other US states that are equally mind-blowing: North Dakota, New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming. You can check them all out here.

Yes, most of the Peruvian waters drain into the Atlantic Ocean. Here are the maps of Peru, if you want to take a closer look.

Asia is amazingly colourful with lots of endorheic basins in the middle areas: deserts, the Himalayas and the Caspian sea are to blame. Also note how the Indonesian islands of Java and Sumatra are divided.

I mentioned earlier that I also made white versions of all maps. Here’s Australia with its vast deserts. If you're wondering about the weird lines in the middle: that’s the Simpson desert with its famous parallel sand dunes.

North America with white background and colourful oceans looks pretty neat, I think.

Finally, I made the drainage basin maps of the individual oceans: The Atlantic, the Arctic, the Indian and the Pacific. The Arctic is my favourite one.

I really hope you like my new maps, and that they will become as popular as my river basin maps. Those have already helped dozens of environmental NGOs to illustrate their important messages all around the world. It would be nice if these maps too could find their purpose.

#maps reimagined #geography #cartography #maps #my art #rivers of the world #ocean drainage basins #ocean maps #river maps

[inkskinned]

she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

#splled ink #writeblr #it's really hard to describe what im feeling

[the-song-of-avernus]

It's fascinating how even though you don't always hear about \ anyone other than Astarion, every origin companion in BG3 has an endgame/epilogue state that is either outright bad for them or at the very least "not as good as they deserve".

Obvious there have been books and 100,000 pages of fic and discourse written about Ascended Astarion. In the moments when he almost acts like his old self, even then it's merely humoring you with a whim.

Mother Superior Shar flat out admits to severe empathy for what Viconia went through, and has fully closed herself off from any sense of attachment or feeling other than Nocturne and Tav. Her continued need to find carve-outs and exceptions and loopholes parallels Viconia's own eventual disagreements with Shar. And as we know, Shar will eventually betray or abandon her if Shadowheart doesn't betray her first. It's the story of every devout Sharran we meet.

Gale, the God is a smug arrogant hubris-ridden asshole that's even mean to Tara in the epilogue. Nearly every single sentiment he expressed about why he wanted the Crown and to ascend is immediately inverted. Of course he's not going to interfere. He's a figure of aspiration. Once he received power himself he immediately forgot and forsook everyone and everything about why he wanted it in the first place. A romanced God Gale is SLIGHTLY more grounded but that's mostly just because you ground him. And if you ascend with him, that ends that.

Lae'zel's return to Vlaakith results in her ascension, which leads to her missing the party and being very dead. The things that Lae'zel claimed to value will never truly be as long as Vlaakith rules, and her not escaping and falling back into her people's death cult robs her of the ability to create a new Gith, a better Gith.

Karlach is dead, or almost as bad, a Mind Flayer. And while most of her initial personality remains, by six months in she's already grown emotionally distant and her personality is clearly and evidently being slowly overridden by the brains of the dying she consumes. She's forsaken the embrace of death for the guise of eternal continuation in her. And even surrounded by the ten people who should mean the most in the world to her, all she mostly thinks about is others' perceptions of her (ala the Emperor) and the fact that she's hungry. Mind Flayer Karlach even notes that she used to think becoming a Mind Flayer would be the worst thing ever, but now she likes it. Shades of the Emperor x1000 and a clear sign that the Karlach we know and love is rapidly becoming a memory.

and then there's Grand Duke Wyll. On the surface, it appears the happiest of the "bad" endings, but pay attention. Note how he discusses wheeling and dealing and making agreements with patriars. (How well has contracts and deals worked out for you in the past?) Oh, and in certain conditions including romance, Wyll will offer you the chance to become a Grand Duke as well - with the others being his father (Ravengard #3) and Florrick (Wyll/Ulder's longest lasting family friend). That's not a government of the people for the people. When the power is tied up by a husband, spouse, his father, and their most trusted advisor, that's the makings of a monarchy or oligarchy. Of the type of patriar power-claim to last for generations, something Wyll himself once mocked. Oh, and if you adopt a child, then you get into the worst part of it all: Wyll's been busy running a city, and oh hey, instead of y'all bringing YOUR FOUR MONTH OLD DAUGHTER with you, hey, she'll be cool being watched by the Ilmater temple for a night right? Sorry, Wyll, were you saying something a few months ago about distant parenting? Yikes.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #wyll ravengard #wyll #astarion #ascended astarion #god gale #gale the god #karlach #mind flayer karlach #mindflayer karlach #tara #lae'zel #lae'zel bg3 #bg3 epilogue #bg3 ending #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 #tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate iii #ulder ravengard #shadowheart #mother superior shadowheart #shart #bg3 shart

[nolita-fairytale]

carmen 'carmy' berzatto masterlist

Thee Carmy x Reader 'Make My Heart Surrender' Universe (In Chronological Order):

comfort & chaos (prequel to make my heart surrender)

a series of vignettes: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you. (completed)

october 2019 | covid & carbonara | heat waves | 2/22/22** | called you again | home**

the phone call (blurb - the phone call that gets reader to chicago in the first place)

make my heart surrender

after quitting your job at the restaurant you both used to work at, carmy asks you to come in and work with his pastry chef at his new spot, the bear. only, the longer you stick around, it becomes clear that you have unfinished business. will one week in chicago change your life, and his, forever? (completed)

tuesday | wednesday | thursday | friday (**18+ for smut) | saturday/sunday | monday | tuesday, again | the playlist

home (final chapter from comfort & chaos - **smut)

try a little tenderness (fluff & angst blurb)

cigarettes & coffee (fluffy blurb)

j is for james beard... and for jealousy (**smut oneshot | 18+ only)

your past and mine are parallel lines (fluff oneshot)

pov: carmy makes people magazine's sexiest chef alive list (fluff blurb)

bad moon rising (what if/angst-shot -- guest starring mikey berzatto)

sister-in-law (fluff oneshot -- guest starring natalie berzatto)

still into you (sequel to make my heart surrender)

you, syd, marcus, and carmy return to where it all began: new york city, prompting you and carmy to think a lot about your past... and your future together. (completed)

thursday | **bonus smut scene | friday | saturday | sunday | it's perfect, chef (**bonus smut scene)

don't want to walk alone

the long awaited wedding fic for carmy x reader in the make my heart surrender universe. this six part series chronicles the wedding planning, your (not) bachelorette party, the wedding, and the honeymoon as you build a life with your husband-to-be. (completed)

june/july | august | september | the honeymoon pt 1 | the honeymoon pt 2 | epilogue: november

carmy as your baby daddy

a social media au & headcanon series detailing your first pregnancy with carmy. created for the make my heart surrender universe, but can be read as a standalone work. this has been created in collaboration with @carmensberzattos & @allthefandomstogether , the graphic goddess. (completed)

part one | part two | part three | part four | give you my wild, give you a child (**smut-shot) | part five | part six | part seven

extras/moodboards/headcanons/imagines:

your life as a pastry chef in chicago while dating carmy (moodboard & headcanon)

meeting mikey in another lifetime (headcanon)

pov: you're marrying carmen berzatto (moodboard)

honeymoon lingerie moodboard

christmas with carmy moodboard & blurb

The Bear: Unrelated to Make My Heart Surrender:

(nothing here YET but working on it)

jealous!carmy & jealous!luca headcanon

stargazing with marcus brooks (blurb)

sneaking around with carmy (blurb)

#nolita fairytale's masterlist #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #carmen berzatto smut #carmy smut #carmy berzatto smut

[makingqueerhistory]

Spooky Queer Books

Since spooky season is starting, I thought I would share a list of my favourite queer books that are great for this time of year.

Some of these links are affiliate links.

It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror

Joe Vallese

Horror movies hold a complicated space in the hearts of the queer community: historically misogynist, and often homo- and transphobic, the genre has also been inadvertently feminist and open to subversive readings. Common tropes--such as the circumspect and resilient "final girl," body possession, costumed villains, secret identities, and things that lurk in the closet--spark moments of eerie familiarity and affective connection. Still, viewers often remain tasked with reading themselves into beloved films, seeking out characters and set pieces that speak to, mirror, and parallel the unique ways queerness encounters the world.It Came from the Closet features twenty-five essays by writers speaking to this relationship, through connections both empowering and oppressive. From Carmen Maria Machado on Jennifer's Body, Jude Ellison S. Doyle on In My Skin, Addie Tsai on Dead Ringers, and many more, these conversations convey the rich reciprocity between queerness and horror.

Into the Drowning Deep

Mira Grant

The ocean is home to many myths, But some are deadly... Seven years ago the Atargatis set off on a voyage to the Mariana Trench to film a mockumentary bringing to life ancient sea creatures of legend. It was lost at sea with all hands. Some have called it a hoax; others have called it a tragedy. Now a new crew has been assembled. But this time they're not out to entertain. Some seek to validate their life's work. Some seek the greatest hunt of all. Some seek the truth. But for the ambitious young scientist Victoria Stewart this is a voyage to uncover the fate of the sister she lost. Whatever the truth may be, it will only be found below the waves. But the secrets of the deep come with a price.

The Devouring Gray

C. L. Herman

After her sister's death, seventeen-year-old Violet Saunders finds herself dragged to Four Paths, New York. Violet may be a newcomer, but she soon learns her mother isn't: They belong to one of the revered founding families of the town, where stone bells hang above every doorway and danger lurks in the depths of the woods. Justin Hawthorne's bloodline has protected Four Paths for generations from the Gray--a lifeless dimension that imprisons a brutal monster. After Justin fails to inherit his family's powers, his mother is determined to keep this humiliation a secret. But Justin can't let go of the future he was promised and the town he swore to protect. Ever since Harper Carlisle lost her hand to an accident that left her stranded in the Gray for days, she has vowed revenge on the person who abandoned her: Justin Hawthorne. There are ripples of dissent in Four Paths, and Harper seizes an opportunity to take down the Hawthornes and change her destiny--to what extent, even she doesn't yet know. The Gray is growing stronger every day, and its victims are piling up. When Violet accidentally unleashes the monster, all three must band together with the other Founders to unearth the dark truths behind their families' abilities...before the Gray devours them all.

Tell Me I'm Worthless

Alison Rumfitt

Three years ago, Alice spent one night in an abandoned house with her friends, Ila and Hannah. Since then, Alice's life has spiraled. She lives a haunted existence, selling videos of herself for money, going to parties she hates, drinking herself to sleep. Memories of that night torment Alice, but when Ila asks her to return to the House, to go past the KEEP OUT sign and over the sick earth where teenagers dare each other to venture, Alice knows she must go. Together, Alice and Ila must face the horrors that happened there, must pull themselves apart from the inside out, put their differences aside, and try to rescue Hannah, whom the House has chosen to make its own. Cutting, disruptive, and darkly funny, Tell Me I'm Worthless is a vital work of trans fiction that examines the devastating effects of trauma and how fascism makes us destroy ourselves and each other.

#queer #lgbt #transgender #queer books #lgbt books #book recommendations #queer history

[mannequinswithkillappeal]

completely ordinary non-fandom friend: hey just letting you know there's a new season of good omens coming out soon. I remember you liking that show.

me, staring at the snake ring I've been wearing for four years, pretending my anticipation of the new season hasn't absolutely consumed my life for the past couple months, vibrating at a frequency high enough to project us both into a parallel universe: oh cool, thanks!

friend: yeah I think it's on netflix

#good omens #i forgot other people aren't Like This #okay this post seems to be inadvertently spreading misinformation so let me clarify that it is on AMAZON PRIME not netflix #I was merely drawing attention to how comparatively uninvested my friend is #its a comic device!!

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 3

Previous Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But goddamn, Oliver Quick was a fucking close runner-up.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, slight mention of blood, sexual harassment, Felix is delulu and kind of a pig, Reader just wants some fucking peace, Michael is Michael and the best, Oliver is Oliver (the worst)

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who commented and reblogged! I didn't expect this story to gain so many readers, and this was a challenging chapter to write - but only because there were some scenes I couldn't add because it would have gotten too long otherwise.

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

You really wanted to kick yourself in the pants for making such a fucking cheesy wish at night watching the stars with Michael.

Right now, you were leaning to rest your head against a bookshelf in a slant position. You had a splitting migraine that began from the moment you woke up and worsened with nausea from your tutorial. And you couldn’t even go back to your dorm for the rest of the day because your lab course for your gen-ed didn’t allow for absences.

“What’d she do now?” came a voice on your right.

You looked to the right and were blinded by a white and blue-striped button-down shirt with short sleeves tucked into a pair of tan khaki pants.

Your knight-in-silver-framed glasses, Michael Gavey, everyone.

All the guy was missing was a pocket protector with pens and tape wrapped around the bridge, and he would have matched every bullied kid in every high school movie set in the 80s.

You turned around to lean your back against the bookshelves and slowly lowered yourself until your butt was parallel to your feet. Blowing the stray hairs out of your face, you remembered to take deep breaths to prevent you from blowing up at your only friend.

“No,” you sighed, “well – yes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Do you love your classes? Yes. Was Daria Martin still your art teacher, and did she still like you? Yes. Are the rest of your teachers mostly assholes that think all Americans are Appalachian hill-billies? Also, yes. But were you still not excelling and scoring in the top ten after every exam? Naturally, no doubt about it.

But were you as invisible and unnoticed as you were before the break came? No. Did anyone with a pulse give you side-eyed glances after your stunt with the 24/7 shit-faced He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Pretty much, yes. Did most of your problems come from one mythic bitch in a 5’3” flesh suit that had the ‘Juicy’ logo plastered on her ass? Namely, one in particular, Annabel – who was your assigned student partner in your tutorial.

Was your new name among the student body now “Psycho Bitch”? …Unfortunately, yes.

…Okay, so this term has not been going as well as you had hoped during the break.

Annabel hated you – like hated-HATED you. And you had no idea why.

You were pretty sure you were less than blank air to her last term, but now she was determined to make your life a living hell. Last term, she skipped every other session to do whatever Annabel did. But now, it felt like she came to every tutorial for the opportunity to tear apart your work.

You’re pretty confident she was the one who started your new “name” about a few weeks ago when the weather began to warm up.

It’s not as if you were a stranger to being picked and prodded by the people born with silver spoons on their tongues and blessed with golden-tipped wings. You were a public-school kid from grades K-12 who went to Townsend Harris for those last four years. Townsend Harris High School was a public school, but make no mistake – it was just as full of the same bullshit hierarchy that made up every private school in Manhattan.

"Open the doors to all. Let the children of the rich and the poor take their seats together and know of no distinction save that of industry, good conduct, and intellect."

What crock. You only survived those years because every kid knew that your dad was an NYU professor who knew the Dean of Admissions of Columbia. You couldn’t recall how often you wished you had joined your friends at Flushing High or even Bayside.

However, regardless of the snide snarks and bullshit snickers pointed at you, you were left alone for the most part.

Sure – it sucked; that goes without saying. It was naïve of you to assume that people would grow out of the need for drama once they walked through the ivory doors and marble floors of higher education. It was stupid of you to think that everyone would forget about your outburst at Bodleian while they were getting drunk on the New Year.

And while Annabel was one migraine-inducing problem, she wasn’t the worst part of returning. No, that title belonged to her boyfriend, a whole other can of monkeys.

The worst part – the worst part of EVERYTHING – was how Felix fucking Catton was incapable of just leaving you the hell alone. It was like he had a little antenna sticking out of his head specifically for you whenever the two of you were within a ten-foot radius of him. Everywhere you went, it was as if you had a giant blinking arrow above you screaming, “Felix Catton’s New Toy”!

No, you were less than a toy – you were a joke, a gimmick.

God, you should have just stuck to your original plan and applied to any SUNY school that would have accepted you without even looking at your application.

But no, your good-Samaritan-obsessed college counselor called your parents and complained that you weren’t “putting yourself out there” enough. And now you were over thirty-four hundred miles away from home, stuck with the worst people ever. It was like a thousand tiny prickles were running on your skin as your mind filled with static.

Whenever Felix called out to you, it was to invite you to a party or get wasted. One time, he walked up to you insanely plastered and invited you for a quickie in the men’s bathroom. You were in an empty lecture hall since your usual spot in the library was taken, and Michael was still in class, so you didn’t see the point in trying to find an open spot.

Somehow – without you noticing – the guy plopped himself next to you and asked if there were any rooms in the building where he could smoke a joint in.

“Pretty sure you could open the window in the bathroom to smoke in there,” you replied absentmindedly.

And then he put his hand ON YOUR THIGH, leaned to your ear to whisper, “Wanna get out of here to join me? We don’t have only to get high.”

You grabbed all your shit and booked it – out of the building and all the way to your dorm to take a shower that lasted for around twenty minutes. You wanted to get rid of the smell of nicotine and overpriced aftershave. The scent of him on your skin made you wish you could tear it off.

And in your panic, you left your bike at the building’s entrance.

When you returned to retrieve it, it was after dark, and you recruited Michael as your tall and bony human shield.

“Do not ever walk home alone at night,” your mom told you every morning you left for school.

You tried not to think about the haunted look in her eyes each time she told you.

“Wanna skip the dining hall tonight? We can walk to Crowley Street and order take-out at that Pakistani place you like so much.”

Oh, that perked you right up. Jannahs Express was a broke college student’s paradise. The food was cheap, and the owners took pity on the international students. It was slightly more expensive in the UK, but it was the closest you could find with food on par to Kababish on Broadway in Queens. You stifled a laugh remembering the sight of Michael drinking the entire pitcher of water after you dared him to try a dish at ‘regular.’

“Seriously? Do you think you could take more than ‘English-mild’?” you asked as you stood up. “How did you survive your mom’s cooking for so long? She made us Indian food on our last night.”

“Mum grew up in London, and she had neighbors teach her how to make it the traditional way. You’re the only person who could take that level. Lilypad and I got Dad’s taste buds.”

Choking on your spit from laughing at the image of Gregory Gavey’s face turning firetruck red, you felt the migraine slowly disappear.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. God, I can’t imagine the look on his face when –”

A familiar voice that left a bitter taste in your mouth after hearing interrupted your conversation.

“Hey, (Y/N). Can we talk?”

You and Michael turned your heads to find Oliver Quick – Michael’s former friend, your former acquaintance – and the sight of him soured the mood instantaneously. You narrowed your eyes to dangerous slits to show your displeasure seeing him as one corner of your lip curled to show a sneer. You never liked the guy. There was just something about how he acted and presented himself. He had a profound desperation to impress everyone around him.

So much so that he immediately dropped Michael after becoming Felix Catton’s new pet. As evidenced by the oversized gray zip-up hoodie blanketing him. Felix’s, no doubt.

Fuck, you hated him.

“Ugh, what do you want?” you snapped, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing how your voice made him flinch.

“Look, can we –” his eyes hastily darted to Michael, then you, then behind him to make sure no one was watching him “– can we talk in private?”

Seriously? That’s how he wants to play this?

In the corner of your eye, you saw how tightly Michael clenched his fists. He was obviously still hurt from the time his ex-friend treated him like shit.

Oh, this will not do.

“Oliver,” you snarled as you crossed your arms over your chest, “whatever the hell you have to say to me, you can say in front of Michael.”

“Can you please not do this now?” he begged with pathetic eyes. How very in-character of him.

“Tick tock, Quick. Are you going to talk, or do I have to throw a drink in your face again? But this time, I’ll smash the glass on your face, too.”

Seeing the look on his face gave you almost a perverse sense of joy. Maybe this is why bullies exist.

“Do you think you’ll be at the pub sometime this week?”

What the fuck? Was he serious? His question caught you completely off-guard. You expected him to ask for notes or even help with homework, as his grades have slipped since becoming an official Felix Catton fanboy.

“At the pub – Oliver, when have I drunk alcohol in the entire time we’ve known each other?”

“You’ll turn nineteen this year, right? It’s only illegal if you’re under 18,” he tried to put out convincingly.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But you’re forgetting the part where I’m still an American citizen. Just because it’s legal for me to vote doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to drink yet.”

“No one cares about that here!” he almost shouted. “Just come with me to the pub at King’s Arms for the next few nights.”

“No fucking way,” you scoffed. “My parents would kill me if they found out I drank on a school night. Also, in case you forgot, we still have our test tomorrow in History. And I, for one, don’t need to get sloshed every night to feel important.”

Michael tugged on your sleeve and nodded at the small crowd forming around you three. You sighed in silence, agreeing that it wasn’t worth it. You both tried to walk away, but you were grabbed and stumbled back, which caused you to drop your books.

“Ow! Are you kidding–” but a wince broke your complaint as Oliver’s hold on your arm tightened to a painful grip. Your eyes traveled to his face, and you were shocked to see the anger shining in his eyes.

“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” he grit out. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

The way his nails dug into your skin made you curse under your breath. Seeing you in pain broke Michael out of his shock at how someone as meek as Oliver Quick could show so much aggression. He rushed to get him off you.

“Are you fucking mental?” he hissed at Oliver once he managed to separate to two of you.

But Oliver’s nail left red scratch marks down to your wrist, even breaking the skin enough to cause little beads of blood to escape. This enraged Michael like you have never seen. Staring at the evidence of his former friend’s clawing, he walked forward and pushed him to the bookshelf before grabbing his shirt with both hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” Michael yelled. “She already said no!”

You wiped the blood off your arm with an old travel tissue pack you stole from the plane you took from JFK to London last summer. God, everyone was staring at you guys now. You needed to find a way to contain the situation. If any staff catches you, all three of you may risk trouble. Trouble that would jeopardize your scholarships. You grabbed Michael’s hands to get him to loosen his grip.

“Look, I’ll hear you out–” you looked around and cringed at everyone’s stares, “–just not here.”

This calmed Oliver’s rage enough to get Michael to let go.

“Okay,” he whispered, “okay – yeah. Let’s go outside.”

The three of you grabbed your shit and quickly exited the library. You went to the same area behind the building with no windows – ergo, no bystanders to gawk at you.

“Okay, we’re outside. Look, I’m sorry about your arm. But can you please just –”

You lifted your hand to stop him.

“Okay, look. I only said I would hear you out to make you and Michael stop fighting,” you stated matter-of-factly. “None of us could afford to get in trouble with the faculty and staff, and it was getting too out-of-hand. Oliver, I am not going to King Arm’s tonight or any night you ask me. I have my own life, so don’t drag me into yours.”

Oliver gaped like a fish for a few seconds before speaking.

“But you have to! Please! If you do, then maybe he’ll –”

“WHO?” you interrupted, shouting. “Who will be there? Who is so important that you act so fucking psycho for five minutes ago?”

This was too much for you to deal with everything on your plate already.

“Cut the vague bullshit already! Why are you desperate for me to be there? It’s so –” You froze as an epiphany struck down you.

Oh, hell fucking no…

“Are you hoping that Felix will be there?” you asked through clenched teeth.

You felt like a volcano ready to blow with his slight nod. And like a volcano – you blew.

“You mean to tell me that you risked all our asses, attacked, and humiliated me for fucking FELIX CATTON?!”

You couldn’t believe it – you couldn’t fucking believe it. Felix Catton took up so much of your life already; once again, he felt it necessary to take more of it for himself.

How much more could one man take? How much more did he want until it was enough?

He had taken so much – more than any person other than yourself had any right to own. Your education, your peace, and what was next? Your body? Your life? Did he intend to bleed you dry of everything like a parasitic vampire he and his kind pretended not to be?

You were going crazy, insane, and running yourself tired all at once. The absurdity of it all made you laugh. You laughed and laughed and laughed until you were gasping for air. You laughed so hard that tears spilled from your eyes as you doubled over.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god! That’s it. Of course, it is. What else could it be?”

Standing straight, you kept laughing, but you were staring at Oliver with an answer clear in your eyes.

“He got bored of you,” you accused him, “didn’t he? So quickly?”

God, how you relished how red his face turned. If you were smart, you would have stopped taunting there – but you were too tired of everything to care.

“It’s been what? A month? Maybe two?” you further pressed. “He really just loves to go through all his toys, huh?”

“(Y/N),” Michael whispered in your ear, “let’s just go.”

He looked at Oliver with disdainful eyes before softening them to look back at you.

“He isn’t worth it. Come on, let’s get your cut cleaned up before we leave.”

You let Michael gently drag you away from the hurricane mess that was Oliver Quick, leaving him to stew in anger and wallow in self-pity on the chilly spring night.

A few days later, you and Michael were walking back to his dorm after watching one of the most notable movie franchises starring one of Hollywood’s best actors.

“How could you not love Pirates of the Caribbean?” you cried. “Johnny Depp is beyond brilliant!”

“Oh, so acting drunk in front of an expensive camera is now considered brilliant?” he quipped back. “Shit, I should have just gone into acting instead.”

“I’m sorry, do you not remember his jar of dirt? That scene was completely improvised, by the way – including his fall.”

“Oh – not the stupid jar of dirt! Lil’ kept buggering me all summer doing that scene after I took her to see it!”

“Oh, I meant to ask. What did Lily think of the books I got for her birthday? Were they weird?”

“Are you kidding? She loved them. She keeps going on about how she wants to be Annabeth for Halloween. Oh, by the way, she’s making me dress up as Luke and wants you to go as Thalia.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “Seriously?! Yes, let’s do it. I am so in.”

“She is aware that Luke’s the villain, right?”

“Don’t worry about it so much. She wants to share these memories with you. And you are such a good brother, Mikey.”

“I am never going to escape that name with you,” he groaned, “am I?”

“Nope!” you happily confirmed. “Never! When I write my speech at your wedding, I will mention it at least fifteen times.”

“I’ll allow six.”

“Twelve.”

“Ten, take it or leave it.”

“Ten it is. Pinky-swear.”

You held out your pinky to show sincerity. And like someone raised correctly, Michael respected the sanctity of the swear by reciprocating.

“Perfect! Now that that’s settled, is it okay if I crash at your place for the night? It’s so late, and we don’t have classes tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “Just make sure you – Annabel.”

Wait, what? You stopped walking and turned to look at your friend in confusion.

“Annabel?”

He pointed it out in front of him with a slight nod.

“Annabel,” he confirmed.

Indeed, it was Annabel. But she was sitting slumped against the hallway’s walls with vomit all over her blue dress.

Felix had been going mad for the past few months since his and Farleigh’s return to Oxford. It was already almost May, and he hadn’t come any closer to getting (Y/N)’s attention.

What could he possibly be doing that was so wrong?

He invites you to parties or a drink with you every time he sees you. He had hoped that being friends with Ollie would have given him an “in” with you, but there was no such luck. Did you really have no idea how he felt about you? How much more obvious could he be?

He remembered how happy he was when he realized that Oliver knew you. It was that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms. He recalled it so vividly.

Felix was silent throughout the entire transaction. The sight of you coming over entirely transfixed him. Your hair had two small braids on the side that were attached with small yellow butterfly clips. You were wearing black denim overalls with vintage-looking patches sewn onto the fabric. Your shirt was a light blue-dyed shirt-sleeved t-shirt with splotches of navy blue. It must have been something you made when you were little. The fabric looked soft and worn down. But the size was small enough to hug the curves of your upper torso perfectly. The way the fabric stretched across your tits made him salivate.

After he introduced himself to you, you only responded with a grimace and a slight nod of acknowledgment. He invited you to join him and his friends for a drink, but you only ignored him. His words were meaningless breezes to you – white noise in the background that added to the clang and chatter in the room. He wasn’t even paying attention to Oliver until you threw that drink at him.

“Fucking cunt-rag!” you called Ollie after throwing Farleigh’s drink in his face. You shoved a middle finger for added effect. “Don’t ever show your face in front of me again.”

Grabbing your coat, you stomped away from the table.

Absentmindedly handing his friend some tissues, Felix had to know what your deal was with Oliver. Were you two dating or just friends? He didn’t know how he felt about his new friend being romantically involved with his angel.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” he asked.

“What?” asked Oliver – not understanding his idol’s question before his mind finally registered it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, she’s a friend of a friend.”

“Were you two ever, like ‘together’?” Felix had to know.

Oliver’s eyes widened a bit before shaking his head and panickedly answering.

“No, no, no. We have a few classes together – that’s it.”

Felix couldn’t believe his luck. Ollie must really be his hero.

“Do you think you could introduce us?” he asked excitedly – his molten chocolate eyes were shining ablaze with hope.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Oliver quickly agreed – anything to keep his attention on him.

Felix felt like leaping to the sky. He could run a marathon with how much energy was flooding throughout him. He clapped his hands before grabbing Ollie’s face with both hands and smacking a wet kiss on both cheeks.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Felix went up to get him another pint. “You’re my hero, Ollie. You really are.”

As he lay on his bed, he tried to remember every interaction with you. His last one with you was something he could admit went horribly wrong.

He wandered on the grounds when he stumbled on a building with your bike on the rack. Figuring that you were just in a lecture, Felix figured he could try to catch up with you when it was done. It wasn’t like he had anything important later. He would stay near the entrance and try to catch your attention when you walked out.

Simple.

And because he was God’s favorite, he found you sitting in the middle of an empty classroom. You were taking notes while reading a massive textbook while lightly bobbing your head to whatever was blasting through your earbuds.

Sliding to the seat next to you, he smoothly asked you if there was any room where he could smoke. You didn’t even bother to look at him while answering him – too fixated with your studies to pay attention to him.

Knowing that he had to get you to look at him through more direct actions, Felix impulsively put his hand on your thigh before asking you if you wanted to join him. He even joked, saying that you didn’t only have to get high.

But seeing the terror in your eyes threw him off. He quickly wanted to tell you that he was only joking. If you knew that he wasn’t being serious, maybe you would ease up around him. But before he could apologize, you frantically stood from your seat to gather your books in your bag before running out of the room.

Felix groaned into his hands as he recalled how fast you ran out of the room and away from him.

“Felix, you’re a fucking idiot,” he softly insulted himself.

God, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he think that someone as studious as you would ever consider getting high with some bloke in the bathroom of an academic building?

Every step he tried to take forward with you felt like he was going ten steps back. He needed to find a way to get on your good side.

Maybe Ollie could – no, that was a dead end. Fuck, he needed a drink.

Lying on his bed, Oliver stared at the ceiling of his room. Annabel had just left with the bottle of vodka they had been drinking out of for the past half hour. He wanted to cry.

Why was everything going wrong?

But he knew the reason. It was you.

He was so naïve to think you wouldn’t be an obstacle. You had practically ruined everything from the beginning. It wasn’t just when you refused to help him the other day but also that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms.

While Felix was ordering him a drink, Oliver sat bewildered at the sequence of events that had transpired in the past five minutes. First, Felix invited him over to sit with him and his friends. And when things had been so well, you interrupted his excellent time by asking where Michael was. When you realize he has left your friend alone, you ask for Farleigh Start’s drink before throwing it in his face. You then called him a “cunt-rag” before storming off like a goddamn child.

Luckily, Felix hadn’t listened to you speak. But that was only because he stared at you – stared at you like he was born to worship you. Even worse, Felix asked him if he could introduce the two of you at some point. The way Felix’s eyes widened in glee when Oliver agreed enraged him – even more than when you insulted and almost humiliated him in front of Felix.

Staring at his back, Oliver figured Felix’s attention on you wasn’t something to worry about. He was only interested in you because you were pretty. As much as you infuriated him, Oliver admitted that you had a rare and genuine beauty to you. He didn’t know whether it was your indifference for Oxford’s gods and kings or your dedication to keeping in touch with your American roots – but it was enough to enrapture Felix Catton temporarily.

No, Oliver Quick had no reason to worry. He would be enough for Felix. And then you would be an afterthought, and he’d be Felix Catton’s everything.

Oliver had to find a way to ensure you wouldn't be a problem anymore. You'd comply - there would come a time when you won't have a choice.

Let me know if you want me to write the full scene of Reader throwing the drink at Oliver!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes

Please comment and/or reblog your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie

[amuseoffyre]

OFMD Parallels - 1x05, 2x03, 2x08

The four stages of Ed's trying different identities:

assume the part of [aristocrat/innkeeper/fisherman]

attempt to play the part based on limited knowledge of the role

face mockery/criticism of how the role is being played

get upset by the criticism and leave the role

ngl, I had a little yell when I realised that every single time, Ed is shot from behind before 'beginning' the roleplay.

It puts a whole new significance onto the fact that the first time we see him in the show, he's shot like this:

eta. And how we find him again in S2:

#ofmd #ofmd parallels #ed teach #ed's identity crisis #trying too hard to be somebody else #rather than being himself

[hamable]

Second coherent Spiderverse thought of the night:

I started panicking towards the last five minutes cause, you know, a lotttt of stuff was happening. And I looked at my watch to find that yes, roughly two and a half hours had passed. And I just thought oh no. No you aren’t just gonna leave that there. You can’t leave me hanging like this.

Anyways across the spiderverse is incredible, I’m gonna need to see it at least four more times, and also rewatch the original to draw new parallels and sob about it even more

#across the spiderverse #spiderverse spoilers #spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman across the spiderverse

[emo-batboy]

Trick or treat!

Hello :D Here's your treat

Battinson and Cars

He is a car guy. He loves his car. It is his baby. He can fill his car with gas, yes. That is a thing he can do on his own in his own garage with his own gas.

But he does not know how to operate a gas pump. (New Jerseyans are crying in solidarity.)

Bruce gets into so many car accidents.

Like yeah, he's Batman. But he's also that kind of driver who is perfectly okay when he's on autopilot, but the MOMENT he remembers he's driving a death machine on wheels next to other people driving death machines on wheels, and if you accidentally cut them off or forget to use your turn signal, they will rear end you?! He gets a little antsy :/

The second he overthinks it, he's making mistake after mistake. What are you gonna do? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But when he's in his tricked-out batmobile engaging in a high-speed chase while narrowly avoiding death at every turn? A vigilante with no regard for the rules of the road other than "Do Not Hit People?" He’s suddenly a professional stunt driver! Fuck it!

That’s one of the reasons no one could possibly believe he’s Batman

"Bruce Wayne Reverses into Bush at Local Wawa, Cries as He Calls the Cops on Himself"

Then four hours later...

"The Batman Performs INCREDIBLE STUNT on Garden State Parkway, Saves Lives and Kitten Stuck in Tree"

You think these are the same person? Please be serious.

Anyway-

He is the only person in the JL who can reliably parallel park.

He's also a fucking speed demon. (This is Jersey. The Norm is going 90 in a 55. And back to the "autopilot" point) if he's lost in thought, he's definitely breaking the law. And overtaking like five cars a minute.

Alfred taught him to drive (and is lowkey the one that gave him driving anxiety. He is a very strict teacher.) Because of this, his first car was manual :) Now, he prefers it because it feels cool and action-y when he changes gears on the highway.

Bruce got into his first car chase when he was 15. (Baby's First Car Chase <3) Don't ask me how.  Don't ask why. Just know he does. (I mean, I do have an answer but I'm not giving it to you.) This also means he did it without a license because he was too young to even have a permit at the time.

He has a hatred for literally anyone with Pennsylvania or New York plates. Why? Because they’re slow as fuck and try to turn left at the intersection when there is clearly a jughandle??

(Homework for everyone that doesn't live in NJ: Look up "jughandle" or "jersey left" and tell me your thoughts.)

He was so pissed at the amount of potholes in Gotham that he personally filled them as Batman in the middle of the night. (Wtf are his billions of tax dollars going to?)

Once Bruce was muttering curses at the idiot in front of him with NY plates only to see Clark fucking Kent exit the car. Superman could not understand why Batman kept glaring at him for a week.

I did not spell-check this. Happy Halloween :)

#battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #the batman #dc universe #battinson is a shivering little chihuahua in a sweater #who also drives 100 mph to feel alive #gotham #new jersey #yes new jerseyan is a word #have fun guys #happy halloween #dc

[somekindofpoet]

Missed Connection 2

Summary: A flight delay causes a chance meeting between R and Jenna Ortega

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: Laughing at the fact that I thought I could do a one shot of anything

Part 1 Part 3

“No big deal,” you grumble under your breath, fumbling with the keys to your apartment. “Oh yeah, I was just on SNL, no big deal.”

Your Uber driver, who informed you is named Dani, ranted and raved about Jenna for the rest of the ride home. She then insisted you watch Wednesday before you even thought about texting her. The words “respect on her name” and “so fucking lucky” were cried out several times. Dani refused to drive away before you promised her you would update her on the situation. It seems you were friends now. Against your will, but she appeared serious about not leaving, so you exchanged numbers and made your promises.

Your door opens, and you take a deep breath, happy to be home. The house sitter deep cleaned before he left, and you were grateful for the smell of fresh laundry the moment you stepped in. Your cat sat, perched on the shelves above your head, watching you closely.

“Hello, Mr. Burton, wonderful to see you too,” you smile up at him, and he narrows his yellow eyes at you. 

You nod and drop your bags to the side, happy to see nothing had changed in his world. You trudge into the living room and flop on the couch, sliding your phone onto the coffee table. Half of you wants to text Jenna and let her know you know who she is now. The other half is absolutely mortified at the idea of ever seeing her again. You decide you’ll watch one episode of Wednesday, then hit the hay. You can decide how to approach the Jenna situation in the morning. 

——

Four hours later, you’re still on your couch, valiantly fighting sleep for just one more episode. It’s 2AM, and you know you need to pack it in. She’s just so brilliant. Her version of Wednesday is quick-witted, hilarious, and naturally, insanely good looking. She’s so different from the person you ran into at the airport. She wears Jenna’s face, but that seems to be where the similarities end. Besides the straight faced sarcasm, that was a strong parallel. 

Your grogginess fools you into a sense of confidence, and you finally pick up your phone. You’d already saved her number hours ago, afraid you’d lose the gum wrapper. You open a new message and type out “…” nothing. Nothing comes to mind. What do you even say to a movie star? You remember how she reacted to you calling her a big deal and decide you can’t tell her how great she is in the show. You stare at the phone, sigh, then lock it. Maybe sleep will help.

——

Your phone buzzing on your pillow wakes you up. You forgot to turn on do not disturb, and now you’re paying for it. You crack open an eye and look at the name on the screen. You note that it’s 6 AM and groan as you slide the answer button.

“Sid, are you aware of the hour?”

“Good morning, sunshine! Welcome back to glamorous LA!” Sid’s voice rings through the speaker, her high-pitched singing making you wince.

“Uuuuuugh,” is all you reply, letting her know how you feel about the call.

“So I know you just got back, and yes, I know you’re supposed to be on vacay after your Nat Geo thing, but….”

“Sid, if you ask me for a favor right now, I’ll kill you.”

“Listen! Before you say no, I may have accidentally overbooked myself, and I need a favor.”

You groan, rub your eyes with your knuckles, “You need to get a scheduling assistant dude.”

“I know, but this is big. I have a thing that got moved up, and now I can’t do this Dior shoot.”

You open your eyes, your interest piqued, “Dior?”

Sid laughs, “I knew you’d like that. Uhm, just one thing though, it’s in like two hours so-“

“Sidney, are you kidding me?!” You shoot up and leap out of bed, beginning your search for decent clothes.

“I mean, if you’re late, it’ll be on me, but I knew you wouldn’t be up yet. Can you take it for me?”

You pull on a pair of black slacks and grumble, “I swear you owe me so big, Sid, like we’re talkin' drinks on you for the next month.”

“Okay love you I’ll text you the address you’re the best byyyeeee!”

You sigh as she quickly hangs up the phone and resume your search for clothes. It had been a while since you’d photographed people since you’d moved on to nature photography. The models weren’t bad; you just found the shoots boring. Everything is staged and unnatural, beautiful people in beautiful clothes with beautiful lighting. The biggest challenge to it was dealing with managers and temperamental brand agents.

You brush your teeth and tame your hair as fast as you can, gathering your camera and equipment for the shoot and hustling out the door. You paste the address from Sid’s text into your maps and peel out of your parking lot. If you hurry, you’ll make it with a few minutes to spare.

You should have known LA traffic would play you like a fiddle. You park your car four minutes before the shoot time. You’re not sure why you care if you’re late, seeing as you’re not the one who booked the shoot. But still, somewhere deep down, you want them to like your work, and no one likes a late appointment. It's for this reason you practically sprint through the parking lot and into the studio, your equipment making it nearly impossible to see.

For the second time in two days, you’re barreling into someone, knocking them on their ass and sending you flying over their body. You hit the ground with a grunt, your precious camera safely tucked into your chest. You sit up groaning, ready to spew apologies when you see who exactly you’ve run into. You think it has to be some sort of cruel joke or karmic intervention for sins from a past life.

Jenna sits up, rubbing her head, her oversized black hoodie draped across her frame. When you meet eyes, you both freeze, baffled. You gawk at her. You know you’re doing it, but you can't stop. She stares at you, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Is this how we’re always going to greet each other, do you think?” She asks, a smile pulling at her lips.

You grimace, “I can’t believe my luck. What’re you doing here?”

“Uhm,” she sighs, shrugs, “Working?”

You push yourself to your feet and offer to help her up, but she’s already gathering your things and piling them neatly in her arms.

“Thank you,” you tell her with a smile, “I’m working too, a favor for a friend.”

She frowns up at you, handing over your equipment, “I thought you were a nature photographer?”

“Oh, I am. Like I said, I’m doing my friend a favor. She’s an idiot and overbooked herself, so now I have to deal with models and Dior.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, her eyes bright, “Hi, it's me. I’m the model you have to deal with.”

You choke on your spit, coughing and spluttering, “You’re kidding, right? That's a joke?”

She jerks her head back, “Is the idea that horrifying?”

You're kicking yourself internally for sounding like an asshole, “No! Not at all. It’s just…I…well, to be perfectly honest, you make me a little nervous.”

A laugh escapes her throat, and she looks down at her feet, “You managed well enough yesterday.”

“Uh, yeah. I saw your billboard on the way in from the airport. You undersold yourself a bit.”

Her shoulders sag, and it makes you regret admitting it. You scramble to fix the situation.

“But! But I can pretend I never saw it. If that’s what you want. We can just act like this is some weird meet-cute again.”

She lifts her head, smirks at you, “You thought yesterday was a meet-cute?”

You blush, your eyes wide, “Oh. I…uh, yes?”

She nods, and you can see her mull over the idea. She seems to accept it because the next thing you know, you’re following her deeper inside the studio. You spot the door Sid told you to go to and follow Jenna inside. She disappears behind a mass of stylists and a curtain of clothes with a handful of other celebrity models. You work with the brand managers and review Sid’s vision for the shoot, making your own tweaks here and there. As a whole, it goes shockingly well. Like, well enough for you to reconsider your self-imposed exile in nature photography.

When the shoot ends, and you’re packing up to leave, you’re reminded why you left fashion in the first place. A throng of people wait outside the studio doors, flash cameras held high, yelling and jostling each other. They’re choking at the bit to get the best shot of Jenna and the others when they walk out the doors, like vultures waiting for their pound of flesh. It makes you sick. You stand behind the tinted glass doors, watching the mob with clear distaste.

A voice at your side surprises you, making you jump, “Day in the life,” Jenna sighs, eyeing the crowd.

You hum in agreement, looking back out the window. “You deal with this all the time?”

“Every day,” she grumbles, her eyes tired.

You decide to change the subject, turning away from the doors to look down at her.

“You were great today. You’re a natural.”

Her eyes leave the crowd and turn up to you, “I’m glad you think so, but it’s not natural. I’ve had my fair share of lessons.”

You shrug and start to walk toward the back of the building with her at your side, “Well, it seemed natural. So that’s a good thing. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that, though, because, well, you’re here.”

She snorts, “I guess I can’t pretend being in a Dior promotion isn’t a big deal, can I?”

You give her an exasperated glance, “No. You cannot.” 

When you round the corner, a man in a black suit is waiting at the back door. He opens his hand toward Jenna and dips his head, ushering her toward the exit. 

“Well, this is my ride. I meant what I said yesterday, though. Text me. I’d really like to hang out, you know, when I’m not working.”

You gulp, nervous at the thought, “O-okay, yeah.”

As soon as she’s out the door, you pull your phone out, frantic to tell someone, anyone, about this. For some reason, your first thought is Dani. You get one text through to her, and she calls you immediately.

“Hey! I’m driving, can’t text. Tell me everything. Did you text her? Did you watch the show? Are you in love yet?!” Her voice comes through with road noise in the background.

You laugh, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you push open the door.

“So, actually, I just photographed her at a Dior shoot. I-”

“YOU WHAT?! God, how are you the luckiest person on the planet? Tell me everything.”

And so you do. On your drive home, you tell her about not knowing what to say over text, how you accidentally bowled Jenna over again, how the shoot went, the conversation about the paparazzi, and how Jenna insisted you text her.

“So?” Dani says, and you hear a horn screeching in the background.

“So what? And are you okay? It sounds like you’ve pissed every driver in LA off.”

“Oh, don’t mind them. I’ve got a great Uber rating they can fuck right off. Did you text her? She doesn’t even have your number yet dude!”

“Oh…shit you’re right!” You yelp, not realizing that, obviously, this interaction was one sided because Jenna couldn’t reach out to you even if she wanted to.

“Okay, I know this friendship is new, but I feel like we’re close enough now for me to tell you. That's your in, idiot! You know what, I’m hanging up right now. Text her. Then tell me everything.”

The phone line dies just as you’re parking. You stare at the phone, absorbing the onslaught of information you’ve just been assaulted with. Dani may have been slightly crazy, but she was right. This was your in. You open the phone, pull up Jenna’s contact and type out a new message.

Hey! Its y/n. I just realized I have your number and never gave you mine. 

Anyway, I want to take you up on your offer

I’m off for the next few weeks, so just let me know when you’re free

You stare at the phone, watch as the text bubbles turn blue and the delivered mark appears under them. You bite your lip, anxious about a reply. After a moment, you realize she’s probably an incredibly busy person and would absolutely not text you back immediately. 

Jenna

Hows tomorrow sound?

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's so frustrating is how often the arguments against us are actually happening to us. we said - you need to watch out, this will evolve into allowing fascism into legal statute. and we were told: you're a sensitive snowflake. you're annoying and stupid and have no concept of reality. nobody really believes that stuff.

but it's indoctrination for kids to even see queer people. it's grooming for kids to even be around queer people. it's disgusting to even put rainbows on kids clothes. it's inappropriate, shameful, still-an-argument. like any of this is new - we know already. for you, even seeing someone unashamed is the same thing as "forcing" it onto you. because god-forbid you confront any internal thought you have. because god-forbid you practice empathy. rage is better, i guess. it keeps you pretty.

this has always been the way of some people - a while ago, it would have been "sinful" for my white mom to marry my hispanic dad. once, in the year of our lord 2015, someone told me that "mutts" deserve a woodchipper. that one particular insult stayed with me - not because it was the first or last, but because there was something so unbelievably violent about it that i couldn't figure out how to hold it. the idea that someone is so assured of their bigotry and rage that they would paint this kind of a picture. even jokingly, even with the anonymity of the internet, it kind of centered things for me. a sense that, for some people, their rage burned so unimaginably large that it blocked even the basic fact of my humanity.

at one point, while i still had enough fire in me to get into long arguments, one of the bigots i was "debating" (being harassed by) said: to be honest, it's about the sex, not the love. between you, me, and the four walls of this blue hellsite, i actually didn't really care for "love is love" as the slogan of our community. it seemed so placid, so gentle, so ally-focused. where was the vitriol? where was the hours i spent agonizing over myself? where was the quiet moments of my life, filled with the sound of other people's hatred? this static that settles over everything; even for the action of holding her hand.

the world is unfair. i am an adult, and without the veneer and small-pond syndrome of my teenage years, the slogan has started sounding more desperate. the more places i went, the more people i met. love is love. love is defending him on a rooftop bar. the drink she throws at me goes down into my shoes while i stand there, wishing i had a better retort than what the fuck. love is both of us, keeping our heads down, the black SUV full of frat boys (?) pulled up next to us, howling, for five whole blocks, until we both gave up and had to stick our bare legs into the thicket by the side of the road, giving over into tick country rather than let it go on any longer. love is a lazy spring afternoon, my hand on her belly, the fan spinning overhead. did you hear the whole thing about target?

did you hear about being the target? that's a fun little parallel, isn't it. it almost feels like the game that-is-about-me is being played without-my-participation. someone wants to set fire to my life, and i have to wait for a response from a capitalist institution. i am watching a tiktok where a white woman under white lights complains about adult swimsuits, even though i think a lot of people would benefit from having swimming options that are not "instagram-inspired bikini" or "impossible to move in but otherwise pretty".

sometimes it just seems so fucking stupid. like, just to check, the rage you feel and the hatred - you could really just avoid all of that by minding your fucking business. sometimes (and this is true): it's not about you, and people don't need your permission. like, i don't understand any obsession with sports, but it seems to make other people happy. american football literally results in grievous bodily injury - and yet there are onesies for babies that say future quarterback. i personally don't love it, so i just don't buy that stuff. i walk by it, and don't let it bother me. there have been so, so, so many times that i was told - "so what if he's a little bit homophobic, if you don't like him, don't watch his movies." "so what if they fired her. don't buy their product." "so what if they wouldn't make a rainbow cake. just don't support them."

sometimes i feel the meaning of it scud against my body, an orca whale inside of me, threatening the boat. it is too large to see from my place; this shadow of a thing that dwarfs my petty other-concerns. i need to find a dress for an event, and florida is passing more anti-gay legislation. i need to text my friend back and confirm our plans, and someone is throwing beer bottles to the floor in a walmart because a different case had rainbows on them. it is a long fall, if i look down into it; this sense like the bottom doesn't exist. like i have only ever dipped my toes in.

sometimes i am unbelievably tired of talking about it. it feels like it has become too trite in my own poetry - queer writer complains about the state of the world! how original! - and then something else happens, and i am here again. i remember that it isn't a moment. i remember it isn't a scattered population of cartoon evil-doers, intent on world domination from behind handlebar mustaches. it is a concerted effort of real people with real power who really-do want to see my end. it is a lifetime of dodging the beercan as it sails out of the back of the van. it is a lifetime of not-kissing once we leave the apartment. it is a lifetime of watching someone protest our existence and then, very slowly, giving them the finger. it is a lifetime of holding my friends' hands and hearing the same agony in their life that i lived through. it is us, together, our faces turned upwards, the night sky so vast, milky way overhead like a lacework zipper.

it is a lifetime of staring down woodchippers.

#writeblr #this got away from me #i love you #whereever you are. u are mine. i am yours. i am sorry this is happening