#god x devil supremacy?

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Kristine Harley

Published: Sep 5, 2022

There’s a saying: “Don’t think of a pink elephant.” In other words, what one resists can dominate and even control one’s mind, making the action a person wishes not to do the action that person ultimately does. Religious believers often use this accusation against atheists. We allegedly “resist” or “deny” a belief in God, therefore “proving” His existence or at least His importance to us, because believers see atheists as spitting in the wind like rebellious adolescents.

Of course, we know atheism is akin to democracy in that it rejects any supreme being or cosmic authority. Atheists observe a decentralized universe in which physical, chemical, and biological processes interact to evolve, not impose, reality. Democracy did not elect a new king, and likewise the god-concept is not a “pink elephant” to atheists. But unfortunately today, something else threatens to be.

“Racism” is the new “pink elephant,” with woke apologists invoking “whiteness” and “white supremacy” in an absurd downward spiral of resentment and retribution that will benefit no one (certainly not people of color). It has the ironic effect of feeding a white narcissism that apologizes for “white privilege” in the abstract, while punching down on working-class whites and regarding people of color as children, without agency, needing intervention and rescue.

Many atheists have adopted this dualistic, simplistic self-righteousness that mimics the good/evil, virgin/whore scriptures of religion! This has misled otherwise intelligent people into paradoxically adopting quasi-religious concepts: utopianism (or what I call the Racial Rapture), a past Golden Age (especially before the year 1619), Original Sin, retribution to be visited upon the sons and daughters of the guilty, and a perpetual payment of indulgences and/or personal flagellation without any forgiveness, human or divine. James Lindsey has already made these points.

However, I see a more subtle problem here: wokeness, especially as it combats “racism,” is not only a secular religion, it is a secular religion without a god. There is only the Devil: white oppressors. Cis-gendered white men, suburban white Karens, white toddlers in school being told they oppress students of color, etc. There is only perpetual complaint, perpetual grievance, and a pound-of-flesh philosophy that no longer believes in equality, let alone strives for it. Rather, to quote Ibram X. Kendi in How to Be an Anti-Racist, “Like fighting an addiction, being an antiracist requires persistent self-awareness, constant self-criticism, and regular self-examination.”

In other words, many atheists, seeking to fill a void that apparently did not disappear with their former belief in god(s) and religion, unfortunately embraced a radical 12-Step program of “anti-racism” without seeing the connections to the same religious dualism that characterizes the Twelve Steps for alcoholics.

(It’s interesting that Kendi describes the prioritizing of elderly people for the Covid-19 vaccine as a justification for racial discrimination, without also mentioning 1) being elderly is a biological realty, not a social construct or identity, 2) such a program would have been applied to all ethnicities, and 3) it was actually suggested that elderly people not get the vaccine, since they were largely “white” and not productive. Of course now we have the CDC’s recommendation that vaccinated and unvaccinated citizens be treated equally, showing why different treatment of demographics in the name of “social justice” becomes maladaptive over time.)

The Pound-of-Flesh Approach

This negative obsession with a manufactured Satan also characterized the inflammatory sermons of the Reverend Jerry Falwell, who denounced evil everywhere and focused on sin and biblical “inerrancy.” (Unfortunately, I had to listen to Falwell quite a bit while growing up.)

In contrast to other religious leaders, whose supernatural beliefs I also rejected but who at least focused on charity, forgiveness, repentance and growth, Falwell spread fear, accusation and paranoia even amongst his own flock and this same internal accusation, rather than a group effort toward positive change, has divided the atheist movement.

Internal accusation has spread throughout society. There is the Amanda Gorman affair, in which activists expressed hot outrage that a white Dutch woman would translate Gorman’s poems into, well, Dutch. A translator in Spain also had to step down as Gorman’s translator for having the wrong identity. (Apparently, only black people can translate black people’s poetry into European languages.)

The widely-publicized Minneapolis Teachers’ Union contract stipulates that if an “underrepresented” teacher of color is next in line to be laid off, that teacher should be retained and instead the next white teacher higher on the seniority list would be laid off instead.

Of course, this is completely illegal, a violation of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, but I have a question:

What benchmarks, if any, have been set for justice to be “restored” for these teachers from underrepresented groups, so that layoff decisions can revert to a seniority-only system that treats everyone equally under the U.S. Constitution? (In other words, how will the union know when it has succeeded?)

I doubt there are any metrics or even goals, because as with the Gorman debacle this just is more knee-jerk, irrational thinking justified by invoking “past harms” and real disparities. Yet even critics of the teachers’ contract miss a key point: the purpose is not really to achieve equality of outcome, undesirable as that is. The purpose of this stipulation, along with other gestures toward “equity,” is to satisfy an emotional, momentary need to “stick it to the man” (or in this case, the senior white colleague.) Setting workers against each other satisfies Kendi’s exhortation that we refrain from “being neutral” and turn away from equality as an ideal, instead resorting to petty squabbles over scraps in the name of making some supposedly “privileged” workers “uncomfortable.”

Here is my prediction for the future of this dubious equity initiative: the Minneapolis teachers’ union contract will unintentionally create yet another racial disparity, with newly-laid off white teachers departing for private school positions or leaving the profession entirely, and young teachers of color laboring valiantly in an increasingly anachronistic public education system while parents pull out their children and find alternatives, like magnet schools or learning pods. In ten years, as with automobile line workers and other blue collars laborers in the 1980s, and more recently service industry workers during the Covid-19 pandemic, teaching will remain a high-stress, low-paid, and increasingly outsourced job largely dominated by people of color (as auto workers were and service jobs now are), while the issues of teacher burnout, low pay, social passing, a national teacher shortage, out-of-touch administrators and disruptive, large classrooms remain unaddressed.

“Equity,” like religion, offers static solutions to dynamic problems. This is, essentially, a new form of mysticism, even creationism. Woke atheists should reconsider their embrace of a utopian future that requires a belief in a reconstituted Fall of Man (and in a new-fangled human exceptionalism, or soul-concept, in the form of gender identity extremism which estranges people from the natural, biological, sexual world of limits and consequences, which we fought to teach in science class).

CRT Proponentsists

Meanwhile, in the material world, a siege-mentality has taken over that treats resources like pie: one person must sacrifice for another person to get a fair share. Such a zero-sum game is hardly necessary (and we were assured it was a lie) but the real agenda here is a Marxist one. Equality is outdated, flawed; there must be a transfer of power from the “white supremacists” to the “oppressed” members, this time based on race, not class and owners/laborers.

This appeals to white progressives because it reinforces their controlling tendencies to solve everything and rescue everyone (paradoxically giving them a sense of power over other people), and it appeals to young, radicalized teachers who believe their success only comes from wrestling “privilege” out of the hands of someone else, even if that privilege is minute or imaginary. It is the struggle that is the goal, because all proponents are externalizing their behaviors.

If Black Lives Matter, anti-racism, and the call for “equity” have any kernels of truth they’re wrapped in thick layers of nonsense. Whatever facts they possess are derailed in an incoherent cry to 1) dismantle “systems of oppression” and 2) sacrifice certain individuals on a sinking ship. The second statement negates the first, and the first is a red herring. This adds up to a circular argument in which a “system that was never set up for black people” depends on white people to “address” the problem which breeds only patronization and dependency, a shallow and immature philosophy in the name of resistance.

(This is akin to the breathtakingly inane fallacy that anyone can confront their “inherent biases” in an unbiased way, or that teachers, being adults, should be teaching “equity” (Critical Race Theory) to children, as if children were more likely to be racist than adults.)

The New Soviet Bread Line

Suppose instead the Minneapolis Teachers’ Union wrote the contract so that instead of laying off the white teacher with the next least seniority, the teacher with the highest seniority – vested, guaranteed a pension, and likely close to retirement or able to find another job – would be asked, for the good of the membership, to step down, thus shifting all other teachers up in seniority. This would have achieved a new seniority balance voluntarily, without mentioning race, and without leaving the union vulnerable to lawsuits while still retaining younger teachers of color. But instead, a myopic rush to make the contract All About Race – even claiming it did not go far enough – resulted in at least one court challenge while still protecting those teachers at the top (who might have voted for a race-based contract knowing full well it would never affect them). Equity, indeed!

Mentally this is like being Soviets in a bread line, waiting to wrest a crumb from the Cassocks. A crumb taken from someone else is more desirable than a goal striven for by one’s own efforts, since that would only affirm capitalism and the meritocracy. And it is this—the tit-for-tat hacking away at “whiteness” rather than addressing the real issues (such as teacher burnout, which also disproportionately affects teachers of color), which is the real goal.

Other examples abound. A church in Illinois announced it was giving up the music of “white composers” for Lent. Did the marquee say, “We are celebrating the music of black and brown composers”? No—the church in Illinois announced it was “fasting from whiteness,” therefore ensuring everyone would be talking and thinking about whiteness. Real good hypocritical job there, First United Church of Oak Park.

(I certainly hope the pastor did not assume Aram Khachaturian or Clara Schumann were “white men,” and I wonder if Tchaikovsky, who was gay, merited an exception.)

By contrast, my childhood church’s choir, led by a black director, performed his grandmother’s Spiritual hymns, which were recorded and sold on cassette tape (this was the 1970s) to pay for the new church organ. Our director could play almost any instrument but he relished that organ, and would perform classics by memory, including the famous Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in D minor.” The emphasis was on us learning the story of his grandmother’s journey to freedom, not divisive concepts about our “whiteness.”

The New Prohibition

So how did atheists go from presenting a united front on the fight against Intelligent Design to a splintered community arguing about racism, misogyny, identities and “white tears”? Why would those who promote science fall into racial essentialism and side with #ShutDownSTEM?

I don’t have a simple answer. But I would like my fellow “woke” atheists to consider one more fact:

In the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries a lawyer from Illinois ran for President three times as a Democrat, representing the left-wing Populist Party. His second Presidential campaign specifically opposed American imperialism after the Spanish-American War. A gifted orator, he railed against the gold standard and eastern banking interests and won two elections to the House of Representatives. He became Secretary of State under Woodrow Wilson but resigned to protest U.S. threats against Germany after the sinking of the Lusitania. He supported U.S. joining the League of Nations, the minimum wage and the eight-hour workday, the right of unions to strike, and women’s suffrage. He called for agricultural subsidies, a living wage, full public financing of political campaigns and government inspection of food, sanitation, and better housing conditions.

Sounds like a great guy, doesn’t he? And I’m sure he was if you knew him.

His name was William Jennings Bryan, and he was an ardent Prohibitionist. Of course, atheists mainly know him as the prosecutor in the case of The State of Tennessee v. John Thomas Scopes, arguing against the teaching of evolution opposite Clarence Darrow, who defended John T. Scopes. Bryan took this stance against evolution because he feared it would lead to a tyranny of the strong against the weak and the destruction of his gentle, justice-oriented Christianity.

Bryan, an otherwise reasonable guy, found his devil and stood on the wrong side of history. Atheists should not.

#Kristine Harley #atheism #pink elephant #grievance culture #woke #wokeness #wokeism #cult of woke #woke atheists #wokeness as religion #religion is a mental illness

[kamilah-is-queen]

Evil Amy AU Series

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed x ?

Warnings: Heavy, back-breaking angst

Tagging: @ta-sayeed, @kamilahtopme, @nydeiri, @rhonda-sayeed, @helpconfusedpersonhere, @millasayeed, @vonda-be-real, @livvynka, @queenkamilah, @leenasayeed, @skylarkxxyy, @choicesgrp, @ilove-kamilah-sayeed, @justavampirefan, @iamsimpforpoppy, @friendlybuddy

Authors Note: I’ve been inactive for a long while, so I’d like to start off with a sincere thank you, to those who have stuck to this account and read, possibly even reread some of my works. Thank you will never suffice, so I will persist on posting at least once a week. This series was a pop up idea, and if the audience favors it, I’ll be more than willing to accept ideas for new series. One shot requests will also be taken (and yes those of you who have previously requested one shots, I am in the midst of finishing your stories as well). Enjoy this twisted AU, and let me know your thoughts!

A choice. Two paths, equally daunting and appeasing to its beholder. Righteous or evil. Angel or devil.

One promises a world rid of all maliciousness, a world with stability and calmness, one which vividly portrays a fairytale ending for the heroes of such a tale. A story of how good overcame evil despite all the temptations lurking in its path, because of unity and love.

But, the other, invites unforeseen power. The power that only God has possessed until now. Power that invokes supremacy, invincibility. Such a force can never stop growing, never stop pleasing its host as they call for more and more, desperate to find the missing piece to end all the problems humanity has ever faced, sorrows that the greatest of soldiers have been crushed with, but at what cost..?

*tick….tock* Kamilah’s chestnut orbs flick back and forth across the theater’s stage as Gauis grabs hold of the Bloodkeeper, delving into her mind to shine light on every weakness he can possibly find, to seal the devil’s deal and give rise to his ever powerful Bloodkeeper Queen. Amy. Gauis. Amy. Gauis.

AmyGauisAmyGauisAmyGauisAmy…

She can’t move, her body bound by an invisible force unknown to the mortal word as she sees the fate of creation flash across the stage, in a daunting, dangerous play being orchestrated by the most malicious director.

*tick……tock…..tick………tock……*

Time is slowing but the pressure is mounting mounting mounting, nothing can be done, or can it? Will the cries of Kamilah’s plea be enough to speak to the morality of the Bloodkeeper or will it just be another waste of time as the sweat drips down her sun kissed cheek to the bloodied fabric of her once crisp suit. Panic rises and the blood rushes to Kamilah’s head as thoughts scramble her mind of how to escape and how to reverse all the wrongs she ever made and the thoughts of how her family ended up in the theatre and this terrifying situations daunts her and…

“tick tock, tick tock tick tock tick tock tick-“

Nothing can be done…

“tock”

Not now, not when the alluring pressure for a higher power has taken over Amy’s desire to be more than Rheya could ever have achieved. Not now, when Amy’s body jolts and squirms like an evil spirit has entered inside her physical form. Now when her eyes, a gastly black void filling what was once ember diamonds, meet Kamilah’s.

The once pure Bloodkeeper’s face snarls into a demonic grin, her smile replaced with shark like razors as the most gut wrenching laugh bellows from her blackened soul.

“I’ve won, again, Kamilah. I knew you were nothing more than the weakling you always were, that’s why no one ever remains at your side for long. That’s why you’ll never succeed.”

His droning voice become a distant buzz in Kamilah’s ears, her mind fogged with heartbreak, deceit, trauma as she lived through it all again. Another broken promise. Why did she continuously fail to find her true love, when that’s all she ever wanted. The money, the power, was nothing to her. Her company, her cars, her homes and pools and fancy this and that’s were pure pieces of shit. Her respectable victories in battles were nothing more than a small achievements. But love, love was her greatest desire, which she failed to grasp.

She promised not to shed a tear, but not even an immortal being can escape the clutches of sorrow that a heartbreak is renowned for.

The invisible chains which held her grim destiny in sight violently released, throwing Kamilah onto the stiff wooden floor as she sobbed to the cold surface under her cheek.

It didn’t matter anymore that Amy had embraced Gauis’ twisted words and deceitful promises, which led her astray to the path of evil. It didn’t matter that she was now embracing Gauis into her arms, tangling her fingers into the curly mass of his hair as their lips locked with an intensity that radiated throughout the building. None of it mattered.

Kamilah’s tears relentlessly dripped into the bloodied cracks of the stage, frantically searching for a way out as if the pain was their own, far too paramount to bear. Her built frame shuddered and shook with every cry that roared from her soul, desperate to end the suffering. To end it all.

Please let it be a dream, please…

But that voice inside her head came to no avail. The end was here, the end was now. The fate of the world, the universe was now in the hands of Gauis and his Amy, the corrupted and devilish form of her at least.

Kamilah opened her eyes with great strength, salty rivers coursing down her pale cheeks as they lay upon the black pile of ashes that scattered the floor around her.

Adrian, dead. Jax, murdered. Lily, brutally killed. All remain nothing but distant memories and black specs of ash, now.

Kamilah had foreseen it from the start. She never trusted Amy, she had warned Adrian so. But she let her emotions dictate to her refined sharpness, which flicked on the lightbulb of hope inside her. She was genuinely in love like never before, and in one corner of her broken heart she had wished the succulent promise would last for eternity, but it’s never that simple.

Not for Kamilah Sayeed. And Kamilah Sayeed? She is never as foolish as a Gauis may believe. She certainly was broken, defeated, and on the last straw, but she knew what had to be done.

The fate of the universe rested upon her shoulders, and there was no turning back.

#kamilah sayeed #choices kamilah #choices #Bloodbound #Heavy angst #series #Kamilah Sayeed series

[thuganomxcs]

This little portion of Tokyo belonged to the Gushiken family, a branch of a bigger underworld connection that battled for supremacy over Tokyo, and within that very underworld there were many that knew of the ‘crane of rebellion’. The captain of the Gushiken family that breeds the fear of God into those that opposed them. Within the mundane social world the name was nothing more than a story akin to the ‘boogeyman’. Things about that legendary fighter were exaggerated, some say he feast upon the bodies of those he beats, others say he is the devil incarnate to name a few wild ones. 

But in truth, this fighter was just a man and that man could be found within one of Japan’s grandest arcades. “Son of a bitch!!” The young man cursed the machine that flashes a ‘game over’ message, another round lost to this game. “I swear the shit’s rigged no matter what day I try t’ beat this thing.”

liked x for a crime starter / @ellieaelious​

#❛ rp ━ all these bitches comin' but i'm stayin' at the ready. #❛ au ━━ heard you turned it up to 99 well bitch you gettin' betty'd. #ellieaelious

[nightcorejake]

Get your digital copy now! Just released ! The X year addition just $4

Just to clear up any confusion Family of Dog has nothing to do with dogs. Dog is God backwards!

Synopsis: 18 very powerful people join forces to do the unthinkable after they are unpleased with the results of selling their souls to The Devil so what do they do? Sue his ass of course. Buckle up as The Devil comes to Earth and clashes not only with the 18 but The Messenger of God who defends God in a courtroom drama full of Black Magic, Murder, Rape, and Judgment.

Opening in Central Park hundreds of thousands gather to listen to a flamboyant speaker who promises to bring the rapture a severed head and a little vile later would they make it out alive?

Twisted like the crown of thorns itself Family of Dog touches subjects you've never dreamt of but will cause you nightmares!

Does Satan win? It's the ultimate battle for supremacy!

#horror books #horror #church of satan #obey me satan #terror #evilcore #book review #booksale

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙆 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 (18+)

edit by 🐓 anon. im still screaming over this.

∘ request: [insert the 14 asking for more Sapnap humor in a pt. 1.5 of Meet the Jacobses]

∘ pairings: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: smut (18+), nsfw, language, drinking, mentions of Todd the frat boy, lots of dialogue, biting, asphyxiation

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

∘ a/n: this one goes out to the babes in the gc. ily.

i stole the Brick idea from the Jesse McCartney movie, Keith. I'm sorry. [tw for that link - sad & jesse mccartney not talking about beautiful souls]

also thank you everyone for your support on this series. when my friends and I conjured this up, I never thought I would be at the point where I get to share peoples art/paylists/etc. I'm so thankful for all of you.

okay I'll stop crying. happy reading and have a great week! :)

The sun beat down against your skin, your mind drifting to whether or not you should apply more sunscreen. Karl jumped into the light blue water in front of you, the water splashing out to almost completely soak you. You frowned at him as he came up for air, blowing you a kiss mockingly.

Sapnap’s cousins started tackling Karl, the chorus of laughter echoing around the pool. You stretched your legs out beneath the table, leaning into the shade of the umbrella as you watched them roughhouse.

Sapnap came out from the pool house, opening a beer bottle for you before taking the seat beside you. He sighed, buttoning the top of his shirt as he watched the boys. “Did you have a good time at the party yesterday? I dipped after an hour,” he asked, pushing his sunglasses to rest on top of his head.

You shrugged slightly, taking a sip of your drink. You couldn’t wait to tell your roommate how lavishly you’d been living. The fact that you were lounging by a heated pool, drinking beer from Copenhagen with the sons of millionaires was nearly mind-boggling to you.

You wet your lips, squinting your eyes as you looked at him. “I honestly have no idea. I was kind of just there as a Karl accessory,” you joked, making him chuckle softly.

“Yeah, I get that,” he flipped off one of the cousins as they threatened to throw water at him. “It’s always the Karl show around here,” he added. You raised your eyebrows at him and he backtracked. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. He’s a good guy; everyone’s just obsessed with him.”

You nodded slightly. “Yeah, he’s definitely the star baby,” you joked, making him laugh. “I need to ask you…” You bit your lip voice trailing off as you searched for the night words.

He sent you a closed-mouth smile. “About my mom and Karl?” He asked, biting back a blithe expression. It shocked you how calm he was about the situation.

You chuckled nervously. “I swear I won’t bring it up again, I’m just,” you cut yourself off, unable to describe the question marks pulsing through your thoughts.

He snorted, taking a sip of his drink. “I know right,” he reassured. “When I found out, I almost broke Karl’s nose,” he chided. “Not that I was like… angry it was my mom but out of how weird it was.”

“Yeah it is really fucking weird,” you agreed, laughing slightly.

He gestured as if to thank you for understanding. “I mean, Karl’s a great guy. He was my best friend for a long time but…” He made a face suggesting his discomfort and you snicked. “That’s my mom, man.” You giggled wholeheartedly at this, making him laugh too.

“What are you guys talking about?” Karl asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, dripping wet from his pool time adventures.

“Speak of the Devil and he shall appear,” you joked, making Sapnap wink at you. “Tacitus’ Annals,” you answered, making Sapnap nod at you.

He chewed on his lip, with a calm expression as he supported your lie. “I was telling your girlfriend how much I enjoyed his love of Nero,” he continued, you bit back a smile.

Karl ruffled his hair out in a towel. “Come on now,” he grumbled, calling the two of you on your bullshit.

Sapnap squinted as he looked up at him. “Karl supremacy. As always,” he answered with a touch of quiet sarcasm, making Karl roll his eyes playfully as he took to the other seat beside you.

Karl ran his fingers into his hair. “You wanna get matching tattoos together, Sapnap?” He quipped; Sapnap sending him a smug expression.

“Why? What were you thinking?” He asked, knowing he was walking into whatever Karl was setting up.

Karl pulled the leg of his swim trunks off his leg a bit, furrowing his brows. “I wanna get your mom’s name on the top of my thigh,” he teased, biting his lip. You rolled your eyes playfully.

Sapnap let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh my God, that’s so funny. I totally didn’t see that coming.”

Karl took a sip of your beer and you spoke up. “I think you’d look good with a tattoo, Sapnap. All jokes aside, you’ve got a great body,” you mused, sending him a wink. Sapnap bit back a smile looking at Karl, who you could already tell was glaring back at him. “Side note, I was meaning to ask you. There’s a guy that’s in Karl’s frat,” you paused, trying to remember what Karl had said Todd’s real name was when you were pinning his auction number on him.

Sapnap raised his eyebrows. “Oh, Mark?”

You pointed at him. “Yes, the fake Romney.”

Sapnap snorted. “He did that on campus too?” Karl nodded, a look of disappointment spreading across their faces.

“Speaking of Todd Mark, the king of the Brick” Karl kicked his feet beneath your chair before continuing, “I heard there’s a bonfire tonight,” he probed, making Sapnap slowly shake his head in disapproval.

You raised an eyebrow at the two. “What’s the Brick?”

Sapnap seemed to have already made up his mind on the situation. “A fucking cesspool,” Sapnap grumbled, sipping from his bottle as Karl tsked. Sapnap tilted his head. “You really wanna take her to the Brick? People get together and smoke crack over there. The fact that,” he paused to furrow his brows at you slightly, “Todd Mark? is the benefactor should say something,” he stated, lips curling into an uneasy expression.

You peered over your shoulder at Karl as if to ask if he were crazy. Karl swatted off your gesture. “They don’t smoke crack this time of year. All the locals are back visiting for break.”

Sapnap shook his head again in unease. You chewed your lip, leaning back in your chair. “I don’t know… Sapnap, do you wanna have a movie night instead?” You joked, making Karl sigh behind you.

Sapnap mimicked your mock severity. “Yeah, a stay in and cuddle?”

“Of course,” you repeated.

Karl wheezed. “No, we’re going.”

Without missing a beat, Sapnap chimed back. “Maybe you can take my mom instead?” Karl’s expression flattened at his words and you nodded, high fiving Sapnap in mock victory.

Despite Sapnap’s hesitation, you all went to what they referred to as The Brick. In reality, it was a spot on the edge of a lake. They only called it the Brick because of Todd’s dad, a racecar driver who claimed the post back when he was in high school and later bought it. A large bonfire burned in the center of the space, various people around your age and a bit younger were either dancing to the music coming from one of the souped-up sports cars or shotgunning beers. You pushed away the thought of your stingy fire marshall back home who―more than once―had reported you and your family for “overactive cookouts.”

“Overactive,” meaning your dad and Clay were failing at not catching hotdogs on fire when the two would get lost in a chat about a mutual videogame when the families would cross the fence line in the summer.

As soon as you had stepped foot on the gravel, Karl was welcomed back like some kind of celebrity, so you stayed close to Sapnap. He would lean towards your height, pointing people out that Karl had mentioned in the past or those worth noting. You nodded along, soaking in what he had to tell you and laughing at his jokes.

A random guy strolled past the two of you, making Sapnap purse his lips. “Hey, Sapnap. How’s your mom?” One of the countless jokes thrown at him since you’d arrived.

He tilted his head with a mock look of questioning. “Didn’t your parents just get divorced, Jeff?” He deflected. Jeff’s face dropped slightly as he moved on. You always found yourself struggling not to laugh at how well Sapnap was at counteracting the jabs at his mom and Karl. Most of you felt guilty for how long he had dealt with it.

Karl watched you carefully as you sat down beside Sapnap on one of the vast benches; hands shoved in his pockets as the group around him caught up. You were glad to have someone around like Sapnap, despite the fact that you often went to parties. In the past, it was more of a bi-annual thing, but since being with Karl, you found yourself shoulder to shoulder with nameless people in a line doing shots every other Thursday.

You laughed as Sapnap joked about avoiding the drinks at the Brick because of the mites in the water and the STDs in the beer. “So, I never asked how you met Karl?” He queried, sticking his hands into the pocket of his Baja hoodie.

You smiled slightly. “Uh…” Shameless thoughts of you on your knees in a random building when you barely knew his name paced through your head like a quickfire of serotonin. “We had a lecture together and he liked my handwriting.” Sapnap smirked, chuckling slightly at your words.

Karl’s eyes were trained on the two of you, demeanor shifting each time one of you leaned towards the other to hear over the music or the two of you bumping each other’s arms to grab your attention. You knew he wasn’t jealous, but his look of curiosity was almost hilarious to you. Sapnap stuck by your side while Karl introduced you to his friends. He was basically your encyclopedia on the newer people as Karl would go off on a tangent with them.

The fact that Karl was so close to all of them and was so popular made your heart swell with pride. You were used to Karl’s deadpanned glares at most of his frat brothers and his snide comments, but now he was welcomed back like he was some kind of hero returning from the war.

After saying goodbye to Sapnap for the day, you threaded your fingers with Karl’s, enjoying the time where it was just the two of you. He brought the back of your hand to his lips, smoothing a kiss against your skin. “So… Sapnap’s mom…” you began, making him chew the inside of his cheek. “Where… did it happen?”

He looked down at you with a perked eyebrow before raising his sights forward, pulling you off the street where the two of you were walking. You followed him as the pair of you snuck through between the houses and across the backyards until the two of you were at Sapnap’s house again. Through the front windows, you could see him talking to his sibling in the kitchen.

Karl grabbed your hand, leading you along the side of the estate and toward the pool house. You wanted to groan at the thought before he pulled you through the door with him. “Are you serious?” You hissed, looking around at the dark place. Karl fought not to smirk as he peered out through one of the windows, watching the lights in Sapnap’s house turn out.

The moonlight streamed through one of the slender windows, illuminating his face and washing his features clean. Your gaze trailed along his arms; his tattoos peeking out from beneath his hoodie as he reached up to lock the door.

He turned back to face you, walking closer to you. “Did you have fun today?” He asked, plopping down on one of the couches and pulling you into his lap. He moved your arms to rest around his neck, pressing his lips to your skin. “I feel like I didn’t see you at all. Sapnap’s a bogart,” he muttered jokingly, settling his hands on your hips.

You scoffed before leaning toward him, pressing your lips against his. “Make it up to me,” you murmured, raking your fingers into his hair. “I think I selfishly need you to ruin me here; you know. Like a cleansing of you and Ms. Scarlet,” you chided.

He bit his lip, eyes pulsing with lust as he fought not to grin. You pressed your lips against his, turning to lay back on the couch and yank him on top of you. He chuckled into your kiss, as your hands moved to curl into his hair. His lust was a taste you could get drunk off if given the chance as his hands traveled the length of your body, moaning as you ground your hips against his, gripping into his clothes.

He leaned off of you momentarily to pull his shirt over his head as you slipped out of yours, you wrapped a leg around him, pushing him onto the couch instead and pinning him between your thighs as you straddled him, running your hands up his tattooed chest and connecting your lips again.

One of his large hands covered your breast as you began to grind your hips against his. His teeth grazed against your skin as he caressed your body while you moved against him, trying to create as much friction as you could against his jeans. He ran his fingers along the hem of your underwear, his lips curling into a smirk as he moved slightly to get a better look. "These are nice. Did you plan this?" He leered, snapping the elastic against your hip playfully. You rolled your eyes, pulling his chin towards you and pressing your lips against his. Every movement of his body seemed to lick at the fire deep within you.

You smirked breathlessly as his lips settled against your collarbones. “These are my church clothes. I had no other motive,” you jousted. His hand reached up to rest against your collarbone, his fingers lightly curling around your neck.

“Of course, how could I not realize,” he jabbed, pressing his lips and tongue against your neck. You moaned, tugging at his zipper before wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping him into harder arousal. He groaned against your neck, bucking into your hand lightly. His head tilted back against the couch beneath you, cheeks flushed at the attention. His teeth nipped at your skin as you ground yourself against his thigh, basking in his noises of pleasure.

His cock pulsed in your hand, making him grab your wrist and pull you beneath him. He gripped one of your legs, resting it in the crook of his elbow as he pushed himself into you, connecting your lips to swallow your moans. The feeling of him inside of you sent a wave of pleasure through your body. His voice was low in your ear, murmuring your name as if it were a curse. You moaned as he took one of your hands, lacing your fingers together beside your head as he kissed you again, tongue slipping into your mouth.

His thrusts became more rhythmless, his hold on you driving him deeper as the pool house filled with the noises of your whimpering moans. Karl’s breath was warm on your neck as he took advantage of your submissive state. He moved his hand from around your leg, wrapping his fingers around your neck again. Your body shivered, waiting for the pressure of his hand as his hips rocked against yours.

He chuckled darkly, teeth grazing against your shoulder before his lips hovered beside your ear. “Beg for it,” he commented, voice strained as he thrusted into you.

You swallowed, fingers digging into his back. “Choke me,” you groaned, “please.” His hand tightened around your neck, breath hitching in your throat as his thrusts became rougher. He bit back a smug grin at the way you reacted to his antics, relishing in your body beginning for more.

He relaxed his hand, pressing his lips to yours as you struggled to inhale. Heat ran through your body as your leg curled around his waist, nails raking down his back.

You leaned away from his lips, voice coming out unevenly as you moaned his name. His movements became sloppier as you groaned in bliss, tugging the flesh of his bottom lip between your teeth. You tipped your head back slightly as you reached your climax, riding out your pleasure and sending him over the edge as he pulled you closer to him, his hands digging into your hips as he encouraged you to continue grinding against him. You exhaled deeply, pressing your lips against his neck and his cheek before kissing him breathlessly as your movements slowed.

You pulled on your shirt, Karl’s hands moving to rest on your hips as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “Should we leave a note for Ms. Scarlet?” You joked, making him chuckle as his arms wrapped further around your waist, cheek pressing against your shoulder.

“Who?” He teased.

Tag List: (to be added, follow this link :))

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu @theholycakehole @itgetsatadhazy @himbobimboeater @karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @twist3dtinkerbell @more-like-reyna @teenage0jealousy @deepestofwaters @honk-izzie-was-taken @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @instabull @glowstick-cafe @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @anoaeunoia @little-gremlin-in-the-walls

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[imaginedisish]

Devil’s Advocate (Tenet) Neil x Reader

Chapter 1: Paper Planes

A/N: Hey guys!! Here is the first chapter of the fic, “Devil’s Advocate”!!! I’m excited about this, and writing it is getting me through a lot right now, so I hope you all enjoy it too! Here ya go :)

Summary: After a traumatic experience, you are forced back into the field with Neil, but the mission is personal and possibly too close for home for you to handle. Neil helps you through it, but you’re not sure if you can get the job done.

Warnings: Violence, guns, death, drowning, injuries, angst, cursing, and yes, luckily some fluff :)

Word Count: 4,405

The weight of your cold, dark black glock settles heavily into your right hand as you pick it up off the table to your left. You secure a pair of noise cancelling headphones around the top of your head. You load the gun and cock it. 

The headphones blast with music, helping you to concentrate on the man-shaped target in front of you.

Everyone’s a winner, we’re making our fame.

Bonafide hustler making my name.

 You extend your gun out in front of you as you shut your left eye tightly to aim. 

All I wanna do is…

BANG BANG BANG BANG 

And uh, and take your money. 

You lower the gun as the target pushes forward towards you. You can’t help but smile confidently as you look at the deep hole you made in center of the paper man. You reach to take it down, but a warm hand grabs onto your shoulder, squeezing you tightly, freezing you in place.

The hand twists your body slightly, just enough to make you turn around. You reach up to the top of your head and slip your off headphones, letting them rest around your neck. 

A charming, wild grin pulls at Neil’s lips as his gaze meets yours. “That was bloody incredible!” He shouts. There’s a bright flash of excitement in his eyes. His hands gesture towards the hole you made in the wall. You had aimed perfectly, shooting in the exact same spot each time you pulled the trigger. 

“Thanks,” You say back as your cheeks flush with heat despite the boost of confidence rushing through your veins from Neil’s praise. A compliment from Neil means a lot to you, even though you’ve known him for years. He was your closest friend and made sure to tell you the truth, even when it hurt. That honesty grounded you in the chaos of your life. He was a constant, a steadfast star in your sky. 

Neil chuckles a bit as his eyes look down to the headphones hanging around your neck. You don’t hear how loud your music still is. Your mind is too focused on the sound of Neil’s laugh. 

M.I.A Third World Democracy

Yeah I got more records than the KGB

So uh, no funny business!

“A bit loud, isn’t it?” Neil laughs again as he steps closer to you. He brings his hands to the back of your neck, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he grabs the headphones and slips them off of you. 

That smile, You think before mentally slapping yourself across the face. Snap the fuck out of it. 

Your feelings for him were always at the back of your throat, clawing for supremacy, climbing up to the tip of your tongue, threatening to force your mouth open to spill your guts. Somehow, even after all these years, you were able to hold back. Maybe it was because you didn’t need more than what you had with him. That was an absolute lie. Maybe it was because he never belonged to anyone else. There was no need to be jealous. Maybe it was because there was a certain, silent promise of belonging to each other despite the lack of an official relationship.

That was more like it. 

Neil puts the headphones back on the table as the next song plays. The absurdly loud riff of the guitar pulls you back into reality. 

Fell in love with a girl,

I fell in love once and I almost completely.

She’s in love with the world

But sometimes these feelings can be so misleading. 

Blushing again, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone to press the pause button. The music stops and you smile shyly. A creeping sense of embarrassment crawls into your stomach. You were beyond happy that Neil was able to see you in your element, and usually his presence made you feel good, but his attention was overwhelming at times. Now, the confidence that settled in before had been sucked from your soul and replaced with a racing heart and a cluttered mind. 

You push thoughts of Neil to the back of your head. “So what’s up?” You ask, setting the gun on the table next to your headphones. You casually slip your hands into the pockets of your baggy jeans. You mentally acknowledge that you may be overdoing the whole ‘playing it cool’ thing in front of Neil, possibly even to the point that he might be able to see straight through your act. 

“Well,” Neil pauses. His hand moves to the back of his neck. “I’ve got some news,” Neil says finally, his smirk falling from his lips. Your heart skips a beat. He looks unbelievably nervous. His brows furrow cautiously, knowing his next words are going to achieve some sort of poor reaction from you. 

You gulp anxiously and nod. “W-what is it?” You stutter as you predict the words Neil is about to say. 

I can’t fucking do this, not yet. 

Neil steps closer to you and grabs your hand in his. The touch was familiar but still shocked you to your very core, your nerves tingly frantically under his fingers. 

Please don’t say it, please don’t fucking say it. 

Neil’s voice is quiet in anticipation of your panic. “The boss, he wants you back in the field…” Neil trails off, continuing on about something in London, something about him going with you. You feel your chest tightening. You’re not listening anymore. You’re too focused on what happened last time, too focused on the trauma, too focused on the tears, the shouts, the deaths. 

“NO!” You scream, your long, HDM hung heavily in your hand. The lifeless body of a new recruit crashes to the floor. 

You raise up your arm and cock the gun. You’re ready to aim and shoot, but two large men grab your hands. Your gun falls to the ground with a clatter. 

The man with the dark hair cackles cacophonously. He shakes his head, his piercing emerald eyes dissolving your soul as he picks a new body to hold roughly in his arms. A revolver presses tightly against the person’s head. You can’t tell exactly who it is, as there’s a burlap sack covering their face. There are 8 other people in a semi circle, each appearing the same as the last, tied up in a chair with a burlap sack hiding their identity. 

“What?” He shouted barbarically, his voice echoing against the silver, metal walls of the chamber. “You think your fucking screams can get you out of this?” He grinned maliciously, licking his lips as he cocked the gun. Tears roll down your cheeks. 

You are helpless. 

You are useless.

“(Y/N),” The voice of the person cries out, knowing that their fate is already sealed. It was a woman’s voice, and you felt a bit guilty as you prayed to God that it wasn’t Wheeler.

BANG! 

The lifeless body slumps into the chair. You whimper, stifling a sob in the back of your throat. 

The man with the dark hair moves onto his next victim. You struggle, trying to shake off the two men holding you back. You look around the room, searching for something, anything to get you out of this. 

The man’s face lights up with malignant excitement, sensing that his next kill would hurt you the most. 

Fuck, no no no no no, You think to yourself. You could recognize those stupid, posh little black dress shoes anywhere. You knew the curves of his body, the shape of his hands. Blood dripped down his neck from the cut on his forehead he had gotten earlier. 

Neil.

“Please,” You beg. “Don’t touch him. Just kill me instead.” 

The man with the dark hair only grins more widely now. “Darling,” He snarls. You cringe at his use of the nickname. Neil usually was the one to call you that. “Your begging only makes this more fun for me. In fact, it makes me want to kill you even less, just so you have to live with the image of everyone you care for dying in front of your very eyes for the rest of your life.” His cold words send shivers down your spine. 

He maneuvers differently around Neil, as he grabs the bottom of the burlap sack and removes it from his face. 

Neil’s blue gaze meets yours. You heart feels like it’s being stepped on as it sinks deeply to the bottom of your chest. You can barely breathe now. You huff, trying to keep your sanity, trying to find a way out of this fucking mess. 

“I figured you would want to watch the life drain from his pretty little face, (Y/N),” The man retorts. You shake your head violently. You look left to right, searching for some sort of weakness in the two large men that were keeping you in place. You notice a brace around the knee of the man on your right. 

Thank God for shorts, You think to yourself. 

The man with the dark hair raises the revolver to Neil’s right temple. 

“(Y/N),” Neil mutters. “I l-,”

Before Neil can get his last words out, you raise your right leg, bending it in and snapping it out at the back of the man’s knees, launching him forward. With your right hand now free, you sucker punch the man to your left square in the nose. You round house him in the stomach, sending him backwards. You grab your gun off the floor and aim it back to the man with the dark hair. 

The man chuckles evilly. “You shoot me, and I shoot him. It’s really as simple as that.” Your heart pounds in your chest. 

An idea suddenly dawns upon you. You shift subtly enough so that the man doesn’t catch on to your train of thought. The gun is already cocked, all you need to do is pull the trigger.

BANG! 

“Fuck!” The man cries out, stumbling forwards into the center of the semi circle as he releases Neil from his grasp. His gun falls to the floor. You turn away sharply at the realization that you blew his hand off. 

You run over to Neil first, quickly untying his hands and setting him free. He starts untying everyone else and you walk over the the man with the dark hair. You catch a quick glimpse of Wheeler, and sigh in relief that she’s safe. 

You breathe in hard and part your lips. “Don’t you dare ever fuck with me or my team again,” You pause, kicking the man in your ribs. There’s something extremely personal about your tone.  He grunts in response. “Now tell me where Edgar is keeping the weapons. And tell me where the fuck the lab is, you prick.” 

He chuckles, breathing shallowly. “Prick?” He pronounces the word articulately. “That’s no way to address your uncle.”

“Fucking answer my question ass hat!” You shout, aiming your gun at his head. With another swift kick to the stomach, he curls up in a ball, clutching at his core. You cock your gun again, ready to shoot. Neil rushes to your side, giving you a look that implored you to let him finish before you blew his brains out. 

“F-fine,” He stutters. “It’s in London.” He gives you a set of coordinates, and Neil takes them down. “I suppose I should tell your father that you’re calling him by his first name now, hm?” 

“No, you won’t be getting the chance to,” You say. 

You pull the trigger. 

BANG!

You hear someone in the distance calling your name. 

Two slender, toned arms wrap around your back, resting on your waist as they pull you into an embrace. The smell of Neil’s musky, cinnamon and citrus cologne heightens your senses and brings you back down to Earth. 

Your breathing slows down a good deal as you press your face into Neil’s chest. His right hand comes up to the nape of your neck, and he begins to rake his long fingers through your hair. 

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?” Neil whispers in your ear. 

You swallow roughly. “No,” You say without even needing to think. “I’m not ready yet. I can’t leave Headquarters yet. I’m just not ready.” You feel tears begin to swell in your eyes and you bite down on your lip, hoping to keep them at bay. It had only been a month since you had killed your own uncle. He was a piece of shit, but that didn’t make the situation much easier to deal with. 

It had only been a week since you watched two of your friends die. That part may have been the hardest for you to swallow. 

Neil shakes his head and breaks away from you bit, just enough to get a good look at you. “You’re ready, (Y/N).” His voice is calm and reassuring. “And unfortunately, you don’t have a choice. We have to leave for the airport in,” Neil pauses, checking his silver watch, “45 minutes.” 

“W-what?” You gasp. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“I just found out a few minutes ago,” Neil admits. “If I knew earlier, I would’ve told you.”

You nod, believing him entirely. “So we’re going to London? To the coordinates?” You ask, looking up into Neil’s ocean eyes. You could feel yourself beginning to drown in them, just as you always were. 

Neil simply nods back. He rests a hand on the center of your chest, feeling your heartbeat quicken with anxiety. “It’s just going to be you and I for a few days, and then everyone else will join when we confront…” He doesn’t same his name. He doesn’t want to make you panic again. But you know exactly who he means. 

Your father. Your heart hammers in your chest at the thought of him. 

“It’ll be okay,” Neil’s comforting tone relaxes you a bit. “I won’t leave your side for a second,” He adds. You sigh audibly in relief. 

You let a single tear slide down your cheek. “Thank you,” You whisper. 

Neil pulls you into his chest again. “Anything for you,” Neil responds. You shudder at his words. Sometimes you could swear that he didn’t only see you as his best friend, but something more. 

You let the ideas ruminate and run freely in your mind for a few seconds before shooing them away like pesky little children. 

You take a step back, allowing a small space to fill between the two of you. “I guess I should go pack now.” 

Neil instinctively closes the gap again. You can tell  that he’s worried you’ll break down, and you hate it, but his support feels nice. “Do you want me to go with you? I’ve been told I’m good company.” He grins and sends a wink in your direction.

The corner of your mouth turns up a bit into a half smile, and you let out a small giggle. He always had a way of making you smile, of making you feel good. 

“Nah,” You say, smiling fully now. “I’ll be alright by myself.”

Neil nods and smiles back. “Alright. I’ll meet you in the lobby at two o’clock,” Neil says. His smile turns into a smug smirk, and he turns his back to you. His dress shoes tap against the floor as he walks away. 

“Make sure to bring that silk pajama set you wore that time we went undercover in Monte Carlo,” He calls finally, wagging his pointer finger in the air. “I liked it.” 

You felt heat rising in your cheeks at his words. You almost tripped over the completely flat ground as Neil’s chuckle echoed down the hallway. 

————

You clutched the handle of your suitcase in your hands. You let it dangle in front of your legs, nervously bouncing it with your knees every few seconds. Your eyes searched the lobby for a head of fluffy blonde hair, but it was nowhere to be seen. You glance up to the analog clock above the front door. 

1:59. You were early. You were always early, for everything. Being late made you too anxious. You never wanted to miss a beat. 

The clock ticked 45 more times, and you counted each second. Finally, the sound of dress shoes echoed from down the hall. You looked past the reception desk to see Neil carrying a leather duffle bag in his right hand, and a bottle of water in his left. 

He smiled, releasing your butterflies from their cage inside your stomach as he finally reached your side. You open your mouth to say something, but Neil cuts you off.

“Don’t try to tell me I’m late,” Neil remarks sardonically, his eyes drifting off of you and onto the analog clock. “You’re just always early.” His smirk tugs at your heart, and you can’t help but smirk back. 

“I wasn’t going to say you were late!” You playfully smack his arm with your hand. “I was just going to tell you to be earlier next time.” 

Neil grins and shakes his head. He brings his hand up to the small of your back and brushes lightly. Outside the front doors, underneath the awning, a sleek, jet black town car pulls up. You feel your breath hitch in your throat at the realization that it was time.

This was it. 

Neil looks to you. “Are you ready?” His voice is reserved, almost as if he was scared to ask the question in the first place. 

You nod once. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” You swallow your fear and let Neil guide you out the doors. He grabs your duffle bag out of your hand, and opens the already popped trunk, carefully placing the luggage inside. You go to open the door, but Neil beats you to it. 

“I can open doors you know,” You say sarcastically, glaring disapprovingly in his direction. 

Neil doesn’t seem to care. “A thank you would be nice, love,” Neil says, shooting a charming smile in your direction. His hand is still holding the door open for you. You step inside the car and look up at Neil. 

“Thank you Neil,” You say mockingly. Neil smiles slyly and closes the door. 

The car ride to the airport is relatively uneventful. Neil gave you the run down. He told you your cover, where you were staying, and the overall gist of the mission. 

“So we’re married?” You ask, making sure you had heard that part of the plan right and hadn’t dreamt it up from a fantasy.

Neil smiles and nods. “We’re newlyweds, traveling the world together one city at a time.”  There’s a whimsy in his voice, almost as if he’s telling a fairytale. You can’t help but chuckle a bit, despite the anxiety growing in your stomach. 

The car turns onto an exit ramp, and suddenly the airport is in plain sight. You shiver a bit, feeling the air around you growing colder and colder. You check the temperature gauge at the front of the car, and notice that he hasn’t changed at all. You wrap your arms around your chest, rubbing up and down along your body, hoping to warm up. 

Neil’s smile fades away as he furrows his brows in concern. He wraps his right arm around your shoulders. You jump at the sudden warmth. 

“Are you alright?” He asks as he brings his other arm up to wrap around you completely. 

Your anxiety is begging you to tell him no. “Yeah, I’ll be okay,” You lie. Neil doesn’t buy it, and rightfully so. 

Neil squeezes you tightly. “I know you’re not okay, you don’t need to lie to me,” He whispers. “I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

Your eyes begin to well up, and a single tear rolls down your cheek. “Alright,” You sigh, wiping the tear away. You sniffle a bit, trying to clear your head in the process. The car rolls to a stop. “I’m ready whenever you are,” You say, trying to seem more confident than you actually were. 

You open the door and slip out. The chaos of the outside of the airport takes you aback, despite the fact you had been in an airport millions of times before. Neil steps out behind you, and goes over to the trunk. He takes the luggage out and steps towards to you. You stare up at the massive building, petrified to enter. 

Neil ticks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “There’s not much time, (Y/N). We have to go inside now,” He says, his gaze staring into the side of your head. You refuse to meet his eyes, you’re too focused on the building, the mission, the future. 

After a few seconds, you nod to Neil and walk into the airport. You and Neil only have one duffle bag each, and thus you could skip checking in any bags. He guides you over to security, which happened to be a breeze. 

A short walk later, you approach the gate. There was a line of people waiting to enter, and you and Neil shuffled to the back of it. A few minutes later, a nice steward scanned your ticket. 

“Alright Mr. and Mrs. Ryan, you’ll be in row 2, seats A and B. Have a nice flight,” He smiles, and gestures for you to enter the bridge to the plane. 

Your heartbeat quickens as you take small steps. “N-Neil,” You stutter as you reach to center of the bridge. “I can’t do this. I really can’t do this. I mean it. I-I’m sorry I just can’t.” Panic is heavy in your voice. It feels as though the walls are closing in on you. 

Neil puts the luggage down and brings you to the side of the bridge. He pushes strands of your hair out of your eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” Neil reassures. “You can do this. I’m said I’m not going anywhere, and I meant that.” 

Neil picks the luggage back up, and guides you through the entrance of the plane and to your seat. You hesitantly sit down, quickly placing your hand on the armrest, wondering if there’s still time for you to run out of the door and back to headquarters. To your dismay, you watch the doors of the plane begin to shut. Neil wasn’t kidding before when he said there wasn’t much time. 

He stores the luggage in the overhead compartment, and takes his place next to you. He notices that you’re still shaking, and he places his hand on top of yours and brushes your skin lightly with his thumb. 

A comfortable silence rests gently between you and Neil as his hand remains on top of yours. Sometimes words aren’t necessary. You can get the idea of what someone means by their actions alone.

A few moments later, the captain makes an announcement, followed by a series of other voices sharing information. You're too wrapped up in your thoughts to pay attention to anything they have to say. Before you know it, the plane begins to move down the tarmac. It gains speed, and suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted in the air.

You shiver again, the anxiety becoming too much to handle. You try to ease into your seat in an attempt to calm down, but to no avail. You’re petrified and uncomfortable, a terrible duo of emotions to be faced with simultaneously.

Suddenly, you feel Neil’s warm hand leave yours. You watch in confusion as he lifts the armrest up, tucking it in between the seats. He lifts his arm, and wraps it around your shoulder, just like he had done in the car, and so many countless times before. You accept the invitation willingly, and snuggle into his side. 

Minutes later, you’re fast asleep in Neil’s arms. 

———

An evil chuckle echoes against the concrete and spreads down to the grassy beach below. “There’s no saving him now, (Y/N)!” A man shouts from the top of an overpass. 

You look down and watch as a familiar figure waves their arms frantically underwater, trying to swim up to the surface, but they can’t. There’s a brick tied around each of their angles. Their dirty blonde hair floats freely in the water as they continue to sink to the bottom.

“N-Neil!” You shout, trying to step forward to dive in after him. But your stuck, tied against a chair, guarded by two large men. “Please, please stop this!”

The man laughs, ignoring your pleas. “This is what you get, (Y/N). You’re worthless, and you fucking know it. Don’t you ever forget it, darling.” 

You shake side to side. The chair tumbles over and you fall into the dark, black, cold water. Your nerves are shot by the shock of the frigidness, and you can’t move. 

“Neil!” You gargle, left to watch as he sinks to the bottom of the lake. “Neil!”

“(Y/N)?”

“Neil!”

“(Y/N)?” 

Your eyes shoot open and you practically jump out of your seat. Your seatbelt pushes you down, keeping held tightly. You’re trembling. You can’t breathe at all. 

“(Y/N),” Neil repeats. “It was just a nightmare, you’re okay.” He wraps his arms around you, bringing you tightly into his chest. 

You bury your face into his white shirt, sobbing softly. His right hand reaches up to the nape of your neck, his fingers gently combing through your hair. 

“I’m so sorry,” Neil whispers, his voice filled with kindness. “I’m so, so sorry, love.” 

You whimper into his chest as pain explodes in your heart. “What am I going to do?” You mutter. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Neil says, his kind tone persisting in each word he utters. “I’ve got you, it’ll be okay.”

It needed to be okay. You needed to be okay. You couldn’t risk any fuck ups, not this time. This was real. This was life or death. 

This was the end of the world. 

Or at least it could be. 

“I’m going to fucking kill him for what he’s done to you,” Neil states, the kindness in his voice is replaced with anger and frustration. “I’m going to kill Edgar, I swear.” 

You shake your head against his chest. “No…

“Leave that part up to me.”

>>> Chapter 2

#neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #tenet neil x reader #tenet neil #neil tenet #tenet #tenet fanfiction #tenet imagine #neil x reader tenet #tenet reader insert #neil tenet fluff #neil #neil imagine #neil fanfiction #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfiction #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson imagine #robert pattinson fanfiction #robert pattinson fanfic #tenet fanfic #neil x reader fanfic #neil tenet x reader fanfic #neil x reader tenet imagine #neil x reader tenet fanfiction #fluff #neil x reader fluff #robert pattinson fluff

[theshedding]

Lil Nas X: Country Music, Christianity & Reclaiming HELL

I don’t typically bother myself to follow what Lil Nas X is doing from day to day, or even month to month but I do know that his “Old Town Road” hit became one of the biggest selling/streamed records in Country Music Business history (by a Black Country & Queer artist). “Black” is key because for 75+ years Country music has unsuspiciously evolved into a solidly White-identified genre (despite mixed and Indian & Black roots). Regrettably, Country music is also widely known for anti-black, misogynoir, reliably homophobic (Trans isn’t really a conversation yet), Christian and Hard Right sentiments on the political spectrum. Some other day I will venture into more; there is a whole analysis dying to be done on this exclusive practice in the music industry with its implications on ‘access’ to equity and opportunity for both Black/POC’s and Whites artists/songwriters alike. More commentary on this rigid homogeneous field is needed and how it prohibits certain talent(s) for the sake of perpetuating homogeneity (e.g. “social determinants” of diversity & viable artistic careers). I’ll refrain from discussing that fully here, though suffice it to say that for those reasons X’s “Old Town Road” was monumental and vindicating. 

As for Lil Nas X, I’m not particularly a big fan of his music; but I see him, what he’s doing, his impact on music + culture and I celebrate him using these moments to affirm his Black, Queer self, and lifting up others. Believe it or not, even in the 2020′s, being “out” in the music business is still a costly choice. As an artist it remains much easier to just “play straight”. And despite appearances, the business (particularly Country) has been dragged kicking and screaming into developing, promoting and advancing openly-affirming LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈 artists in the board room or on-stage. Though things are ‘better’ we have not yet arrived at a place of equity or opportunity for queer artists; for the road of music biz history is littered with stunted careers, bodies and limitations on artists who had no option but to follow conventional ways, fail or never be heard of in the first place. With few exceptions, record labels, radio and press/media have successfully used fear, intimidation, innuendo and coercion to dilute, downplay or erase any hint of queer identity from its performers. This was true even for obvious talents like Little Richard.

(Note: I’m particularly speaking of artists in this regard, not so much the hairstylists, make-up artists, PA’s, etc.)

_____

Which is why...in regard to Lil Nas X, whether you like, hate or love his music, the young brother is a trailblazer. His very existence protests (at least) decades of inequity, oppression and erasure. X aptly critiques a Neo-Christian Fascist Heteropatriarchy; not just in American society but throughout the Music Business and with Black people. That is no small deal. His unapologetic outness holds a mirror up to Christianity at-large, as an institution, theology and practice. The problem is they just don’t like what they see in that mirror.

In actuality, “Call Me By Your Name”, Lil Nas X’s new video, is a twist on classic mythology and religious memes that are less reprehensible or vulgar than the Biblical narratives most of us grew up on vís-a-vís indoctrinating smiles of Sunday school teachers and family prior to the “age of reason”. Think about the narratives blithely describing Satan’s friendly wager with God regarding Job (42:1-6); the horrific “prophecies” in St. John’s Book of Revelation (i.e. skies will rain fire, angels will spit swords, mankind will be forced to retreat into caves for shelter, and we will be harassed by at least three terrifying dragons and beasts. Angels will sound seven trumpets of warning, and later on, seven plagues will be dumped on the world), or Jesus’s own clarifying words of violent intent in Matthew (re: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” 10:34). Whether literal or metaphor, these age old stories pale in comparison to a three minute allegorical rap video. Conservatives: say what you will, I’m pretty confident X doesn’t take himself as seriously as “The true and living God” from the book of Job.

A little known fact as it is, people have debunked the story and evolution of Satan and already offered compelling research showing [he] is more of a literary device than an actual entity or “spirit” (Spoiler: In the Bible, Satan does not take shape as an actual “bad” person until the New Testament). In fact, modern Christianity’s impression of the “Devil” is shaped by conflating Hellenized mythology with a literary tradition rooted in Dante’s Inferno and accompanying spooks and superstitions going back thousands of years. Whether Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, Scientologist, Atheist or Agnostic, we’ve spent a lifetime with these predominant icons and clichés. (Resource: Prof. Bart D. Erhman, “Heaven & Hell”).

So Here’s THE PROBLEM: The current level of fear and outrage is: 

(1) Unjust, imposing and irrational. 

(2) Disproportionate when taken into account a lifetime of harmful Christian propaganda, anti-gay preaching and political advocacy.

(3) Historically inaccurate concerning the existence of “Hell” and who should be scared of going there. 

Think I’m overreacting? 

Examples: 

Institutionalized Homophobia (rhetoric + policy)

Anti-Gay Ministers In Life And Death: Bishop Eddie Long And Rev. Bernice King

Black, gay and Christian, Marylanders struggle with Conflicts

Harlem pastor: 'Obama has released the homo demons on the black man'

Joel Olsteen: Homosexuality is “Not God’s Best”

Bishop Brandon Porter: Gays “Perverted & Lost...The Church of God in Christ Convocation appears like a ‘coming out party’ for members of the gay community.”

Kim Burrell: “That perverted homosexual spirit is a spirit of delusion & confusion and has deceived many men & women, and it has caused a strain on the body of Christ”

Falwell Suggests Gays to Blame for 9-11 Attacks

Pope Francis Blames The Devil For Sexual Abuse By Catholic Church

Pope Francis: Gay People Not Welcome in Clergy

Pope Francis Blames The Devil For Sexual Abuse By Catholic Church

The Pope and Gay People: Nothing’s Changed

The Catholic church silently lobbied against a suicide prevention hotline in the US because it included LGBT resources

Mormon church prohibits Children of LGBT parents to be baptized

Catholic Charity Ends Adoptions Rather Than Place Kid With Same-Sex Couple

I Was a Religious Zealot That Hurt People-Coming Out as Gay: A Former Conversion Therapy Leader Is Apologizing to the LGBTQ Community

The above short list chronicles a consistent, literal, demonization of LGBTQ people, contempt for their gender presentation, objectification of their bodies/sexuality and a coordinated pollution of media and culture over the last 50+ years by clergy since integration and Civil Rights legislation. Basically terrorism. Popes, Bishops, Pastors, Evangelists, Politicians, Television hosts, US Presidents, Camp Leaders, Teachers, Singers & Entertainers, Coaches, Athletes and Christians of all types all around the world have confused and confounded these issues, suppressed dissent, and confidently lied about LGBT people-including fellow Queer Christians with impunity for generations (i.e. “thou shall not bear false witness against they neighbor” Ex. 23:1-3). Christian majority viewpoints about “laws” and “nature” have run the table in discussions about LGBTQ people in society-so much that we collectively must first consider their religious views in all discussions and the specter of Christian approval -at best or Christian condescension -at worst. That is Christian (and straight) privilege. People are tired of this undue deference to religious opinions. 

That is what is so deliciously bothersome about Lil Nas X being loud, proud and “in your face” about his sexuality. If for just a moment, he not only disrupts the American hetero-patriarchy but specifically the Black hetero-patriarchy, the so-called “Black Church Industrial Complex”, Neo-Christian Fascism and a mostly uneducated (and/or miseducated) public concerning Ancient Near East and European history, superstitions-and (by extension) White Supremacy. To round up: people are losing their minds because the victim decided to speak out against his victimizer. 

Additionally, on some level I believe people are mad at him being just twenty years old, out and FREE as a self-assured, affirming & affirmed QUEER Black male entertainer with money and fame in the PRIME of his life. We’ve never, or rarely, seen that before in a Black man in the music business and popular culture. But that’s just too bad for them. With my own eyes I’ve watched straight people, friends, Christians, enjoy their sexuality from their elementary youth to adolescence, up and through college and later marriages, often times independently of their spouses (repeatedly). Meanwhile Queer/Gay/SGL/LGBTQ people are expected to put their lives on hold while the ‘blessed’ straight people run around exploring premarital/post-marital/extra-marital sex, love and affection, unbound & un-convicted by their “sin” or God...only to proudly rebrand themselves later in life as a good, moral “wholesome Christian” via the ‘sacred’ institution of marriage with no questions asked. 

Inequality defined.

For Lil Nas X, everything about the society we've created for him in the last 100+ years (re: links above) has explicitly been designed for his life not to be his own. According to these and other Christians (see above), his identity is essentially supposed to be an endless rat fuck of internal confusion, suicide-ideation, depression, long-suffering, faux masculinity, heterosexism, groveling towards heaven, respectability politics, failed prayer and supplication to a heteronormative earthly and celestial hierarchy unbothered in affording LGBT people like him a healthy, sane human development. It’s almost as if the Conservative establishment (Black included) needs Lil Nas X to be like others before him: “private”, mysteriously single, suicidal, suspiciously straight or worse, dead of HIV/AIDS ...anything but driving down the street enjoying his youth as a Black Queer artist and man. So they mad about that?

Well those days are over.  

-Rogiérs is a writer, international recording artist, performer and indie label manager with 25+ years in the music industry. He also directs Black Nonbelievers of DC, a non-profit org affiliated with the AHA supporting Black skeptics, Atheists, Agnostics & Humanists. He holds a B.A. in Music Business & Mgmt and a M.A. in Global Entertainment & Music Business from Berklee College of Music and Berklee Valencia, Spain. www.FibbyMusic.net Twitter/IG: @Rogiers1

#Hell #dantes inferno #Christianity #lil nas x #Country Music #Black Artists #Music Business #Music Industry #social determinants #ProfessionalSinger #Rapper #Entertainer #The Black Church #Conservative Media #Jerry Fallwell #The Moral Majority #Bishop Eddie Long #Andrew Caldwell #COGIC #Bernice King #Homophobia #Transphobia #misogynoir #Erasure #aids #HIV #bart ehrman #MIsquoting Jesus #bible reading #Biblical Inerrancy

[twoscoopsblog]

Strixhaven Previews

Oh boy oh boy. I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am for Strixhaven to be coming. As someone who grew up reading two main book series, Harry Potter and the Forgotten Realms novels (mostly Drizzt and the books where Kelemvor became a god), I am totally stoked for Strixhaven and the D&D set.

So let’s look at what we know about Strixhaven, shall we? This is the Multiverse’s best wizarding school (take that, Tolarian Academy!) and it had five colleges. 

Lorehold is in Red and White, and is focused on history, artifacts and understanding the magic of artifice. 

Just look at that artwork. An owl student shooting magic. A dwarf student with a GATLING SCROLL!? And those effects - Make a 3/2 token? Make all creatures stronger and indestructible and fast? A lightning helix? A blood divination? And I get TWO OF THEM!? A 3/2 with a free Blood Divination is totally worth 5 mana! And it’s even more modular! I love it!

Then we have the college of dirt, decay and life, Witherbloom.

I love the tusky troll dude. I love the green miasma. Land recursion with mill? Permanent removal? Creature debuffing? Life drain? It’s pretty nice.

Prismari is the art college, full of elemental magics, song and dance. So my wife’s school and my best friend’s school, but not my college.

Look at this. Burn. Rummaging. Treasures. Artifact destruction. This is the school of heavy metal and rock opera, the school of drumlines and dance troops, the school that’ll make you know you just got served. Amazing.

But if you’re more into STEM, maybe Quandrix is where you’ll be.

For only 3 mana, you get two of - a bounce, a counter, a permanent buff, or mill insurance? Yes please, I’ll do math for that! (This would be my sister’s college, btw). 

This one we even know an associated teacher - Kasmina! Remember her, the wizard teacher planeswalker from War of the Spark? We all knew she was from Strixhaven, and it sure is good to be right.

So much cooler than Professor Trelawney, Kasmina can summon fractal owls, and just her being there makes your other planeswalkers have more abilities because she’s a wizard teacher, and she teaches them how. She even lets you tutor and free cast a spell of any color of a sufficiently loyal planeswalker you control. You can keep your Uncommon Walkers from WAR around longer now! I would totally be that guy to use Teyo to Wrath of God you or Angrath to pull a Star of Extinction. It’s just how I am. (Don’t use it with X spells though, because it’ll set X to 0.)

And finally, my college of choice, Silverquill. I wasn’t sure about them at first - they came off like the Slytherins to me, but their black mana isn’t from “Wizard Supremacy” or being literal wizard Nazis, but instead from healthy competition. Compete within the group to get stronger, and your group itself is now stronger. Then you are all better to face your enemies. They’re the school of constructive criticisms and biting witticisms. The writers. And they have ink magic they’re so cool!

Their Command gives you so much fun. An angel buff! Graveyard draw! A deal with the devil! Forcing a death! And the ink! Look at the ink!!!

Man they’re so cool. And we’re pretty sure we know one of their teachers now.

Look, I haven’t had a 2D crush since Sailor Mercury when I was 11, but hot damn. I think I’m hot for teacher. Like I never got the “step on me” jokes, but like, I get it now. As I said on Twitter when someone said “Everyone thirsting for Professor Onyx  is a bottom,” - even if you’re a top, sometimes you have to make an exception. 

Like, Liliana was always attractive. She traded her soul for eternal youth and beauty. But now that’s she’s trying to be good, and on a redemption arc, she’s got a certain je ne sais quoi.

And in that outfit, I suddenly have a lot of feelings I’m not used to, and I don’t want them to stop. 

Like I shipped Lili and Gideon hard for a while, but to quote the sketch Ice Cream Parade “Oh... he’s dead now. Welp, here we go!” Like there’s people on Magic TikTok thirsting for Gids, and I suddenly get it. 

Just... holy fuck, I started this post to try to convince people to play Strixhaven, and now I’m just ready to turn this page into a 100% Liliana Thirst Blog. 

Anyway, I’m going to not shut up about Strixhaven. Come for the non-transphobic wizarding school, stay for the insanely attractive faculty, like holy fuck is this allowed, how in the name of Ugin is this allowed.

#mtg #magic the gathering #strixhaven #harry potter

[nocluewhatsupg]

Also, bitch i will make you an Asa only blog, don't try me >:] Can i get a nice slasher on slasher action with Asa and his male slasher s/o? Not smut, but like... killer friends? Idk

📻 and ✨ believe in Asa supremacy. 🙅, the more sane mod of this blog, does not agree.

Here’s Y/N dying of dehydration that we wrote at 3 am then forgot about for a week.

Asa x Male!Slasher!Reader

God fought in your stomach, twisting and pulling delicate flesh. Bile rose in your throat, coating a dry mouth and stinging. At 5:54, you arose from the dirty mattress you slept on, pushing the ratty blanket off of your frozen body. Raising a scarred right hand, you grasp a cheap wooden table with the strength you still had, and pulled. Drilled into the floor, the table was a good counterweight as you fully rose from a would-be grave.

6:00 came and went. Your meal was nowhere to be seen. What did move, rustling from stagnant stillness and shaking dust, was a doll hung high on the ceiling. In one, beady black eye, the glint of a camera. As you stare on, you did not feel the horror surrounding you. Panic, however, drowned the god in your stomach with a mighty wave.

This was a test. You were being tested.

You ran a dirt-covered, blood-soaked hand through your disheveled hair in pure exhaustion. Your eyes flicked around the cell you were kept in, a much better fate than nailed to the wall or stuffed in a trunk. It was barren, with only your mattress and a table. Thick iron bars separated the room in half, half where you were trapped, and half for visitors to stare and marvel at the collection.  There was nothing to hold, nothing to tear or burrow or slash. Control was slipping through your fingers, and you could feel it.

"Come on, man. We were friends, remember?" You call futilely to the void of a human watching you. "I-I scratched your back, you scratched mine?"

Using charm that dodged you death row, you spread your arms wide, opening yourself up like a bear trap and inviting him to pass the glimmering steel jaws. He did not fall for your friendly tricks. He could have you open and disarmed whenever he pleased.

The city was glorious. Under your booming voice and his silent sadism, the city trembled at your feet. It was only natural to join forces, to grow above a population so doltish it left its doors wide open to you. It was only natural to see you and him were a different breed to the simpletons you tormented, and you belonged together.

He didn't see as similar as you expected, or he simply didn't see it at all. The longer you spent clawing at your own skull inside a fabric laced box, earth shattering rage screaming in your head, you realized he was a different breed entirely to you. It wasn't about control to him. It was about collection. He never saw a partner, an opportunity like you'd spent your life chasing. He saw a curious specimen, and to your fury, something below him. The longer you thought about it, pacing around your cage, the more delusional he seemed.

Instead of the devil incarnate, he believed himself to be a god higher than the one that fought in your stomach. The ultimate higher being, while a dog of order, it was all for a higher cause.

You didn't have a job, and you couldn't keep the madness out of your eyes long enough to land one. It was always someone else that provoked you, and in your reason, if they left you alone it would've all been fine. He had a stable job, and the ability to leave and flit among the herd peacefully.

You, however, put your face in the blood, left caricatures pointing out your best features on the walls. You left mangled, torn survivors to scream of your terror in hospital beds as they died. You made yourself in the headlines, carving desperately your cursed name into the stone of history and praising yourself in human sacrifice.

He didn't even leave survivors. The press couldn't even come up with a funny name to dull the horror he created. Quick and impulsive, dealing little damage that built up as the week went on, versus his calm and planned, where his bi-monthly attacks were awful enough to trump all the work you've done in a year.

With a warm smile, you tasted sweet opportunity on your tongue, and charmed your way into his life. It used to be a monthly agreement, a collaboration to bring more pain to the city for no other reason than your entertainment. Then, the schedule and him along with it, changed to satisfy your voracious need for blood. Monthly became weekly, and you'd meet him in the cobweb covered basement of a local bar. On the knife-scratched oak table, he would display his week's work, blueprints and careful planning. He carried detail in every operation, and took twisted pride in discerning to you each step of the plan. It warmed your small, black heart how he showed you just how the night's activities would play out, just for your itchy trigger finger to ruin it all and force him to improvise.

While he wore his mask around the clock, you thought it looked nice in the dim lighting shady bar basements provided. You knew it looked better when it was covered in blood, multicolored LEDs bathing the dance floor in deep purples and blues, screaming mingling with pounding and high beat music. Impulse ran your very existence, somewhere around your first or second kill you realized it didn't matter what happened. We all die in the end, you either kill yourself or get killed. Not a second thought passed your mind after the first, solidified idea came, and you pressed in. The blood you'd smeared on your face as a makeshift mask smudged on his. Halfheartedly, he shoved an arm between the two of you, his slim knife catching on your shoulder. A survivor huddled in on herself as she pushed against the shadow darkened wall desperately, whimpering as she watched with eyes blown wide you pushing him back into the pool of blood on the floor. Someone important once said 'Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer', and you couldn't get closer than that.

You lick your lips, and no moisture transferred between. Time was running out. Pent up anger vibrated in your bones, and you begin to snap your fingers impatiently.

"Come on, I'm not asking for much. I'm sure there's a hell of a lot more people you've got who ask for more. All I want is some water. Simple thing." Most importantly, you did not plead. You bargained. "Just a little aqua, compadre."

He never was a fan of your quirky sort of humor, and even in the face of dehydration, you smiled the charming smile of a dysfunctional bear trap.  

Every piece of furniture in the hotel, from pure hell to castle-like, was carefully chosen to not only appear luxurious. It struck fear, the sheer normality and absurdity both. He drummed his fingers on the table, entertainment in both glowing eyes as he watched you flail wildly, desperate to catch the camera’s eye. The dim room he sat in was illuminated by only the screens before him, buzzing with knowledge and control. Beside him, sitting on the uninteresting wooden table, a tall glass of water. Cold to the point sweat had begun rolling off the clear glass, fresh from a tap, and what you were dying for kept just out of reach.

An alarm cried, beckoning for his attention. He tilts his head to the sound, a warm expression on his face as he thinks.

You'll survive just a few more minutes.

#slasher #slashers #slasher community #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #slasher x you #asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collector 2009 #the collection 2012

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 69

Happy May the Fourth, to all of my readers. A long chapter is ahead of you, I suggest you grab some tissues for this one. You will need it. 

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. Tag lists are closed

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 69: Wedding Bells

“Long Live the Supreme Leader,” erupted the crowd in repeat. You stepped back from the podium as the First Order anthem played and salutes were given. After the anthem was finished the crowd fell into deafening chants of ‘Long Live the Supreme Leader’ and ‘Bow to the First Order.’ You quickly took your leave back to your chambers as Hux took over the assembly. He gave you a small nod as a sign of good work.

Kuruk and Trudgen flanked you, back all the way to your chambers. Your staff would be returning when the assembly was officially over, but you had the privilege of only needing to be there for your part. You informed the knights that you would like to be alone.

You sat down and tried to process what you had just seen. Kylo killing her, killing Rey. The woman who thought she could take him away from you. If you were being honest with yourself what you witnessed should have appalled you, but it didn’t. There was something in you that was thrilled at him protecting you, at protecting your relationship with him. He was an unhinged demon sent to protect you, your own personal god.

You were disturbed from your thoughts by your staff entering your chambers. There was a buzz of excited chatter among them. They apparently enjoyed watching the battle, just probably not as much as you did. You all quickly got back to work on ceremony arrangements. You were going to send a few of them down to the surface to monitor and report back on the repairs.

Before lunch, the dressmaker arrived with your dress in her hands. It was covered in a bag, but you sent your staff away as you lead her to your dressing room. Only Adlez and Olivia-Rose were allowed to see it before the ceremony. Your jaw dropped when the dressmaker pulled it out of the bag. “It’s beautiful.” You ran your hand over the lace of sleeves.

“I need you to try it on as there may need to be a few adjustments to be made,” said the old woman. But the dress fit like a glove.

You felt like a goddess and you looked like one too. You were definitely going to stand out from the venue itself. You would look like a rare white Lilium amongst the scorched earth. A piece of delicately pure femininity amongst the masculine obsidian architecture. And next to Kylo you were going to look like the fair maiden that tamed the savage, bloodthirsty monster. A piece of pure moonlight cherished by the most menacing black as dusk creature to grace the galaxy. His own personal star, in the coldness of his grim night sky.

When Adlez placed the veil on your head you instantly knew you were ready for this, ready to marry him, ready to be Empress. For the first time, you felt so sure that this would be your destiny. Your eternity with him.

“Empress Ren,” said Adlez as she looked at you in the mirror.

You met her eyes with a smile. “Yes.”

All three of them sang praises of your beauty. You didn’t even want to take off the dress, but you knew you had to as it wasn’t time yet. With a saddening heart, you watched as Adlez hung it up on the back of the armoire. You would get to wear it in two days’ time, or so you hoped. But for now, you were finishing up plans for the ceremony.

The dress was put away; you had your usual luncheon with members of the High Command, your lesson, dinner, and then getting ready for bed. Your schedule still feeling rather boring as the anticipation of the ceremony growing closer took over your every thought. You were prepared for bed by Adlez and Olivia-Rose, who both insisted that since it was so close to the ceremony that you needed to be pampered every night and every morning. Once they were done you tucked yourself into bed as Adlez handed you your sleeping pill, seeing as really you only needed someone there to make sure you took it after you were already lying down, for your safety.

You woke up the next morning and were pampered again. You were to visit the surface again, just to see the preparations for yourself. Adlez and Olivia-Rose were going to join you as they needed to see the room you were going to get ready in. You wanted only them to see you in your dress before the ceremony, so that meant you had to get ready at the castle.

The descent to the surface felt different this time. None of your party felt as anxious or worried as they did previously. When you exited the ship you were greeted by excited Alazmec. The translation droid told you that they were saying variations of ‘its nice to see you, goddess’ ‘welcome back’ ‘bless you’ and other joyous things. You told the droid to thank them, even if there was no way to directly say it.

You approached the large imposing monument. The repairs on the outside seemed to be coming along. The Alazmec seemed to set up a shrine or offering table right outside the entrance. It made you smile; they seemed to be very happy that the castle was being repaired. The inside of the castle looked even better than the outside. The black obsidian was so shiny they were mirrors. They looked like they could hold your future, but in a way they did.

You were shown to a side room that would be where you were supposed to get ready. Adlez and Olivia-Rose were moving about the room. You heard Adlez speak to an officer about getting a vanity and a full-length mirror. Which he promptly took as an order. You were very pleased at the progress of everything. You left them in that room to visit the ceremony space again. This time the room was immaculate. You imagined standing there with Kylo, being announced his wife, being crowned Empress. Wearing your dress. It was all starting to come together.

You meandered around the room for a bit waiting for the rest of your landing party to join you. Once they did you made your way back to the shuttle and back to the Supremacy. You had a luncheon, your lesson, and then you were alone for dinner. Just after dinner, you decided to curl up by the fireplace upstairs before you would get ready for bed. Tomorrow would be your wedding day, and you wanted to enjoy the peace while you still had it, but that didn’t happen.

You received a holo transmission from Kylo, but he wasn’t there exactly.  You could see him, but it wasn’t your normal call, you almost wondered if this was another pre-recorded transmission like that from the day before with the scavenger, but you could see the little red light to signify that this was a live call. You called out to him but he couldn’t hear you; you kept watching what was happening.

And then you saw her, his mother. She approached him slowly. “Please take off that mask. You don’t need it.” Her voice reflected the tiredness you saw in her eyes.

He dwarfed her in size, “What do you think you’ll see if I do?” His approach towards her was less threatening than it was with Rey. He still looked like a beast before his prey, but this time he regarded her as more.

She looked sad, “The face of my son.” Her voice was earnest. She had the face of a mother that was desperate to see her child once more. The son that was right in front of her.

He took off the helmet. You could see her eyes water more as she looked upon his face.

“Your son is gone. He was weak and foolish, just like his father. So I destroyed him. I am destroying him to protect her.” You could hear waves of emotion in his voice now. They were no longer being distorted by his helmet’s modulator. “Did you come here to say you forgive me? To save my soul?”

She shook her head, “I failed you, Ben, my son.” She was still using the name of the man he despised, the man he wanted to kill.

“You did. And I’m sure you are. The Resistance will be dead. The war is over. And when I kill you, I will have killed the last piece of Ben Solo. I’ve destroyed the scavenger, and soon you, and all of it.” He wildly gestured around him. You wished you could see inside his mind, just like he was able to see inside yours. Tears were freely falling from your face, you knew what was about to happen.

“You don’t have to do this,” she was pleading to the devil now. But he couldn’t save her, he couldn’t save himself. He had made his decision long ago, and now he was fulfilling his destiny.  

“I’m being torn apart. I want to be free of this pain. I want her free of this pain. I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.” You lurched forward in your seat, on edge at what you were witnessing. Your heart constricting as you knew he needed to do it, but part of you was mourning for him. You wished there was another way.  

“You do know this won’t be the end of it? I know you have felt it too. Something is stirring. It needs to end.” She knew something you didn’t. You were worried. What was she saying? Was something worse on the horizon?  

He simply nodded and asked, “Will you help me?” He held out his hand.

“Of course,” she seemed to know what he was asking as she took his hand. He drew her into his arms. You watched as a son held his mother in one last embrace.

“Thank you.” You saw the red flash of his saber. Unlike the scavenger, her ending was peaceful, there was no fight. You watched as he dropped to his knees, clutching her body to his. You heard a singular loud grief-filled sob before her body disappeared from his arms. With his back still to you, he picked up and put on his helmet. His shield from the outside world. He stood, and as he straightened his back the transmission ended.

You felt cold, and you quickly looked at your wrist. The name Ben Solo was gone. Kylo Ren was now in bold black letters. He killed him. Ben Solo was dead. Kylo Ren was victorious. Your head grew dizzy with the realization and before you could do anything you blacked out.

You awoke to a frantic Adlez holding you; you were on the floor. “M’lady are you all right? We’ve been trying to wake you for an hour now.” Your eyes were finally able to focus on those around you.

“I’m fine. The Supreme Leader will be back for the ceremony tomorrow. I need to get some rest,” you responded to her.

The doctor looked at you with a knowing eye. “Yes, in fact, I recommend that you do get some rest.”

Adlez and Olivia-rose got you ready for bed, they drew you a relaxing bath, once that was over they helped you change. When you exited the bathroom, the doctor was still waiting patiently for you.

“I’ll give her her medication tonight, you have an early morning tomorrow. Go get some rest,” said Dr. Dabrini to Adlez.

She gave you both a look but followed orders.

“Now m’lady may I presume that your fainting spell had something to do with the Supreme Leader?” He knew the situation all too well to hide anything from him.

“Yes, he’s finally killed Ben Solo, completely. I think that’s why I passed out,” you confided.

“You are the first known case of this circumstance, so I wouldn’t be surprised, but you and the Supreme Leader are also more compatible biologically than any other match I’ve ever seen. I just wanted to confirm my suspicions.”vHe then gave you your sleeping pill, and you fell asleep quicker this time. You were out by the time he had left the bedroom. Your body’s exhaustion catching up to you. Another black, dreamless night. A comfort to you now.

Adlez and Olivia-Rose singing “Here Comes the Bride” awoke you. This put you in a pleasant mood, to see them in such excellent moods. You were also just excited to see Kylo in person again. To see him as himself fully for the first time, to see him as just Kylo Ren.

They got you into the bathroom for another bath, this time you were heavily inspected from head to toe. You were to be perfect today. And they would make sure of it. Once you passed inspection you were dressed in a long black wrap dress for your travels of the day. As a treat, you had breakfast out on the patio complete with mimosas. You were only joined by them as the rest of your staff were to help with the preparations of the ceremony itself.

After breakfast Adlez grabbed your dress and Olivia-Rose got everything else, you would need to get ready, and then you were off to the hangar to go down to the surface. Your excitement grows with every second. Exiting the ship you were once again greeted with cheers of excitement from the Alazmec, but now there were officers and ‘troopers among them. You felt like a princess.

You entered the castle being quickly ushered into the side room where you were to get ready, “I will personally stick the Supreme Leader with a pin if he tries to see you before the ceremony. I’ve been informed that it is bad luck in your culture and I do not mess with superstitions,” said Adlez, shutting the door behind you.

“Speaking of which,” said Olivia-Rose. “We have some things for you. The first being something old,” she produced a beautiful set of earrings. They featured a small white pearl at the base, but attached to a long delicate silver chain was a larger black pearl. “These belonged to Queen Padme Amidala herself. They are one of the most sensible pieces of jewelry she owned.”

“And this is something new,” said Adlez handing you a matching pearl necklace, with two small white pearls bookending a larger black one on a delicate silver chain. “A gift from the both of us.”

You didn’t know what to say, but you started to choke up while trying to thank them.

“Now, now, now. We shall have no tears before the wedding,” said Adlez, wiping them from your face.

“Thank you both, I really appreciate it,” you were great full for both of them. You would be utterly lost in this whole experience if it wasn’t for them.

“It's the least we can do,” said Olivia-Rose. You saw a sweet smile erupt on her face. But before any conversation could continue, there was a knock on the door.

“Ah that should be the something borrowed,” said Adlez. The door opened to reveal Captain Phasma.

“You should not need this, but here is there something borrowed. It is one of the few things from my planet that I brought with me to the First Order.” She handed you a small intricate knife. The gesture almost made you tear up again, but you held it in.

“Thank you Phasma I hope I won’t have to use it either,” you gave her a knowing smirk. If anyone tried anything while Kylo was present, your knife would be the least of their worries.

“And finally something blue,” said Adlez. It was cheesy, but it was a beautiful blue lace garter. “I think this is something the Supreme Leader will enjoy,” She said with a wink.

You were thankful they paid attention to the small cheesy wedding tradition; it made you feel as if this was the plan all along.

Adlez did your hair in an intricate but elegant style, something more sleek than the late queen ever wore. Olivia-Rose kept your makeup beautiful but simple, bringing out your natural beauty. Once they were done they helped you dress in your wedding gown. Applying finishing touches here and there before putting on your cathedral length veil. You had a bouquet made of all your favorite flowers; it reminded you of when you first met Kylo, the small but kind gesture he gave you. You were ready to go down the aisle.

Olivia-Rose slipped out of the room. She was to inform you when it was time. Adlez was giving you a reassuring pep talk that you really didn’t pay attention to. You were too focused on wanting to rush out and get this all over with. Olivia-Rose stuck her head in, giving you the go-ahead. Both of them guided you through the door into the adjoining hall that led to the ceremony space. It was completely empty, just like you hoped. You wanted everyone to see you at once. You wanted to take their breath away.

You paused at the entrance to the space, Olivia-Rose and Adlez opened the doors for you revealing you to all that awaited your entrance, and most of all to Kylo. There was no traditional march music, you just strode confidently down the aisle to him, and to where Hux stood as the officiant.

Kylo himself looked the same, but different in many ways. He wasn’t wearing his mask or his usual uniform. He was wearing a black coat-like garment that featured embroidery that made him look like the galaxy himself. Once again his hair was braided out of his face, and a single gold circlet crown adorned his head. He looked stunning.

The ceremony itself was just the common practice one from your planet, with all the to have and to hold and in sickness and in health vows. Really, you couldn’t focus on anything other than Kylo. His black eyes searching your face, holding your own eyes hostage. You remember the exchange of rings. Kylo’s being a simple black band with a silver cut out that matched the shape of yours. Your ring was a simple silver band with a large black jagged stone, it reminded you of Kylo.

You also remember the kiss, after Hux said the words “You may now kiss the bride,” Kylo scooped you up into his arms so fast, his lips crashing down onto yours. You could tell he couldn’t really take it any longer, he needed to be with you. He dipped you back in the old fashion way and deepened the kiss. Most couples had a chaste first kiss as a married couple, you did not, but you were not complaining. After you heard Hux clear his throat Kylo brought you back up to vertical and ended the kiss. You had no idea how long your first kiss was, but you didn’t care.

After the kiss was your coronation, which also went by in a rather a blur. You remember having to kneel in front of Kylo as he deemed you Empress, and you remember the removal of your veil and the placing of your crown. Unlike Kylo, you had a proper crown, one that made you feel like the Empress you were. You also remember being announced Empress and hearing a roaring cheer.

You remember taking Kylo’s arm and walking down the opposite hallway to where you came from. You hadn’t explored this part of the castle. Suddenly you remember that you never planned any sort of reception after the wedding, but upon entering the room he led you to, there was no need for one.

There was a small buffet spread, much like the one when you first met him, but you were in a rather elegant bedroom this time. Your anxiety spiked.

“Would you like to eat first,” asked the man in question himself. He could probably feel how nervous you were. It was practically radiating off of you.

In the back of your mind, you had expected a reception before your wedding night. There was always a reception. You felt stupid. “Yes, please.” You were attempting to stall. You haven’t seen him in over a week, let alone really even touch him—kiss him. You felt like a typical blushing virgin at the whole ordeal, but you weren’t.

He guided you to the food, both of you choosing a rather small amount of the rich selection. You were worried that if you ate too much, it might make you sick with your current spiked anxiety. You stuck to light foods, enough to take the edge off of your worries, but not enough to make you look and feel heavy. When you both finished your food Kylo took your plate from you and set it aside.  He then took your hand and guided you to the bed, he paused at the foot of the bed and in a swift but suave motion he brought your hand to his lips where he graced it with a kiss. His lips kissed along the back of your hand and eventually found their way to your wrist, to his name. With hungry eyes he stepped closer to you, enchanting you with his overwhelming presence.

As he drew you in close to his lips found that familiar place behind your ear, his place, his mark. His hand found the small of your back as he pushed you flush against him, that hand trailed its way down to your ass where he held you in place. You could feel him still for a moment before his other hand raised your chin up, so your lips barely met his. “I have waited for this moment for a thousand lifetimes, Kitten.” Something about the way he said his pet name for you at that moment had you melting like putty in his hands.

You felt his hand come back up to the bare opening of your dress; he started to unbutton it. His lips brushed over yours before he said, “Actually, I’ll let the Force handle this.” You then felt his hand leave your back, to cup the side of your face. An all too familiar presence then started unbuttoning the dress for him. You attempted to return the favor, but you struggled, earning a chuckle in response as Kylo assisted you.

His hands guided the dress down your arms, and he took a step back to assist you with stepping out of your gown. You then led him to the bed, you in just your bra, underwear and garter, and him in just the black slacks. He looked down at your little lace garter in confusion, toying with it before he attempted to hook a finger through it but you stopped him. “It’s actually a tradition that you... remove it with your teeth.” You could feel yourself blush as you suggested it.

He cocked a brow, with a smirk dancing on his lips, “With my teeth?”

You eagerly nodded, hoping he would take the hint and indulge you. When his head dipped down to your thigh, you knew you had won a small victory. You felt him kiss the tender flesh of your inner thigh before he nibbled around the edge of the garter, nothing too harsh, but more of a tickle. You then felt him take it between his teeth, and he play growled at you causing you to gasp, as he held eye contact as he slid the piece of lace down your leg and off your foot.

He crawled back up to your face with the piece of discarded lace still in his mouth. He hovered directly over your face as he spoke with it between his teeth, “Did I do it right?”

You let out a cry and agreed feverishly, you could see your blush now extending down to your chest as you got a heated feeling between your thighs, where close to where his face just was. You looked up at him from under your lashes, trying to maintain any semblance of innocence you had in front of this hungry beast. His lips attacked yours, in a familiar but new fashion. Now he had an end goal that was attainable, his desire bleeding into the kiss. His hands winding into your hair, like a prayer on the wind. You braced a hand against his strong broad chest and wound another in his hair, feeling the back of his skull under your fingertips.

Somewhere in between kissing you and making fresh new marks down your neck, he had managed to unhook your bra, chucking it somewhere behind him. His large calloused hands roamed your bare chest, squeezing and testing each breast in his hands. His fingers teasing and pinching your nipples, causing deep moans, where he used the opportunity to shove his tongue down your throat.  Eventually, his lips made their way back down your neck and to your breasts, taking their time as they nipped the tender flesh beneath them. As eager as you assumed him to be, he was taking his time. As if he was committing every individual pore to memory.

You soon felt his wet tongue against your nipple, licking, teasing you, before his lip enclosed around it. And you felt a pleasurable pressure as he sucked and teased your tit. You threw your head back in a moan as your hips met his, grinding against his. You heard a growl like a groan from deep within his chest, “So you like that Kitten?” It was a question that really didn’t need to be answered as he could see, feel the reaction it had on you. His eyes ravenous as the stared at you from his position at your chest. You replied by rolling your pelvis against his.

He switched his attention to your other breast, doing the same as he did before, only this time he tentatively bit down this caused you to yelp in surprise. While you were distracted he hooked a finger into the band of your thong and pulled it down off your body, using the Force to fully remove it from your equation. His lips came crashing down onto yours and dominated you as they always did. He continued to bruise your lips as he feasted upon your tender flesh. He took his time as he made his way back to his branding mark behind your ear, making sure it was as dark as it was before he left. While one hand was toying with your hair, keeping it out of his way, the other took one of yours in his as he guided you to his pants. Assisting you as you fumbled to get them off of him. Both of you eventually gave up as he used the Force to rid his body of them.

And then you were bare under him, just as he was over you, his gaze locking you in place, “Would you like me to be sweet or would you like to meet the beast you married?” His eyes were pooling with desire and power. He was starving and only you could sate him.

Both options thrilled you as you could feel the slick starting to pool between your legs. You had been denying him for too long. “Are those my only options?” You fluttered your lashes at him, there was no need to flirt, but you couldn’t help yourself. It boosted your confidence knowing that he only had passion for you—only you.

“Yes, one or the other kitten.” A smirk gracing his plump, bruised lips. He was doing a wonder on himself as he was worshiping you. You quickly glanced down between you, his hard cock close you your tender wet cunt. You wanted him.

“How about I take sweet first and if I’m up for it afterward, I will tame the beast?” He was too close, yet too far away. You just wanted him to do something about your lust, your desire. You wanted him.

His smirk disappeared for a moment, as a deep desire swirled in the dark pools of his eyes. “As you wish,” his voice probably coming out more hoarse than he intended.

One of his hands fell you onto your belly and slowly made its way down to your crotch. His finger slowly, tantalizingly stroked you, causing a gasp to escape your lips. His face buried against your neck as he chucked, “Purr for me, Kitten.”  The gasps turned into moans as his strokes became circles, teasing your clit, making you squirm with pleasure. He then dipped a finger into your sopping wet entrance. You gasped again, this time arching your back and throwing your head back with want and need.

“Please,” you begged. Your body screaming for him, wanting him inside you.

“Please what Kitten,” he teased. Knowing full well what you wanted.

“Please Kylo, I want you. I need you.” Your brain struggling to find the right words, any words as he thrust his finger in and out of you, teasing a second, long thick finger at your hole.  

“You want me to what Kitten? What do you need from me, say it?”  A second finger fully joining the first scissoring inside of you before he teased a third.

“I want you...” but before you could finish your sentence, he thrust a third finger inside of you, pounding into.

He chucked at your reaction to him, “You want me to what Kitten? I won’t give it to you unless you ask.”

“Please.” Thrust. “Fuck.” Thrust.” Thrust. “Me.” Thrust. “KYLO!” You practically yelled his name as his fingers pounded inside of you, your breasts bouncing at force the motion.

His lips grazed yours before he teased, “Well since you asked so nicely.” This man was going to be the death of you in more than one way.  You whimpered as he removed his hand, but you weren’t able to complain for long as his dick teased your entrance. He lined himself up before slowly inserting his large cock. Your body had previously stretched to his fingers, but this was a different sensation altogether.

He filled you completely, owning up to the title of being more beast than man. Once he was fully sheathed in your hot wet cavern, a hand moved your hair from your face. “Tell me when to move, Kitten.” He was letting you get used to his sheer size. Your walls clamping down around him as you tried to adjust. Your body enjoying the pleasure of being full.

You nodded as words failed you. He took your hips in his hands as he slowly started to fuck into you. His lips finding yours, attempting to kiss you before you both abandoned the idea, to just rest foreheads against each other, panting as one connected being. You could tell that this was taking all of his self-control. He was being rather gentle with you. Asking if you could handle more before fucking into you harder. His pace speeding up and his hips pounding harder.

In the end, his hands abandoned your hips as he braced himself against the headboard. The entire bed shaking at the impact of his thrusts.  His groans and moans of pleasure sounding more animalistic than anything.

You felt the pressure of euphoria building, threatening to make you cum. “Kylo, I…” you attempted to warn him. He took this as a signal to pound into you even harder, which you hadn’t thought was possible, but you should stop underestimating his sheer strength and animalistic nature. Your walls squeezed around his cock as the waves of orgasm washed over you, screaming his name. You heard him snarl in pleasure above you as his thrusts lost their steady pace, joining you in your nirvana. You heard your name ghost his hips as he fucked hard into you before his pace slowed down considerably before he came to a halt. His freshly orgasmed cock still inside you. His forehead resting against yours, as you tilted your head up to kiss him, which for the first time he lazily returned, lacking his usual eager vigor.

“Thank you,” you whispered into his lips. Reveling in your post-sex glow. Your body felt new again.

“Mmhmm,” was his initial response as he was gathering his breathing. His lips returning a kiss, as you could feel his cock stiffening within you, “Now for the beast.”

A/N: I may have committed sacrilege, but it's May the Fourth and I should go out with a bang. Let me know how you are feeling either in the comments or the inbox. 

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #a soul to mend his own #kylo x reader #kylo ren smut #may the fourth be with you #kylo x you #star wars #first order #star wars imagine #sw first order imagine #Star wars soulmate au #star wars first order #i am most definitely evil

[myhahnestopinion]

THE AARONS 2019 - Best TV Show

Last year, I said that I had become content with knowing that there are far too many streaming service with far too many great TV shows for me to ever watch everything worthwhile. This year, I signed up for a bunch of free trials and canceled immediately before they billed me. I’m not sure where the contentment went, but I do know that I found a bunch of great contenders. Here are the Aarons for Best TV Show:

#10. Evil (Season 1) - CBS

Why, yes, Evil is good. The rare CBS show able to make such a list, the procedural hailing from The Good Wife creators Robert and Michelle King twists the languishing network-TV formula into the devil’s playthings. A spiritual spiritual-successor to The X-Files, Evil blurs the lines between skepticism and belief as its trio of investigators unravel a series of uncanny phenomenon, while asking the viewer if supernatural malice looks any different from human cruelty. The show’s attempts to incorporate modern technology can sometimes be a bit clueless, but overall the show is sold by its ambition. The devil’s not in the details. 

#9. The Good Place (Season 4) - NBC

Why, yes, Good is good as well. The NBC comedy had questionable long-term sustainability when it first premiered, but thanks to nimble inventiveness, it’s tough to imagine saying farewell four seasons later. The Good Place has been a safe haven during uncertain times as an exaltation of the virtues of forgiveness, kindness, and self-improvement. While less structurally ambitious than past seasons, the fourth season was the show’s most thematically ambitious as the creators played god by crafting a whole new afterlife. In this philosophical debate over the concept of justice, the show more than justified its long-term existence.

#8. Arrow (Season 8) - CW

Arrow truly became something else over the course of its run, growing from a gritty Batman Begins-inspired melodrama into a network-dominating superhero universe that just powered-through its most ambitious crossover yet. With a shortened season order and an ominous prophecy of death hanging over its hooded head, Arrow pulled out all the greatest hits from its quiver in a rapid-fire revisitation of settings and reunion of cast members. Bringing Oliver Queen face-to-face with his adult children from the future, the show finally made its litigating of legacy literal. The Green Arrow is gone, but the hero left quite a mark.

#7. When They See Us (Limited Series) - Netflix

Representation matters. The stories we choose to tell and the stories we choose to listen to make a powerful impact on the betterment, or worsening, of equality and justice. When They See Us shows us a failure, and hopes for an uplifting. Director Ava DuVernay’s intimate, authentic recreation of the tragedy of the Exonerated Five, boys wrongfully imprisoned for a violent assault in Central Park, unravels the prejudice, malice, and laziness that upend our justice system and destroy lives. The story’s true-to-life intersection with the currently-in-power, forever impeached President is all the more reason that now is the time to see When They See Us. 

#6. Mr. Robot (Season 4) - USA

The early episodes of Mr. Robot were met with trepidation that it would be little more than an infantile Fight Club rip-off. In its final episodes, creator Sam Esmail codifies that he is no hack. The show’s well-researched technological thievery is as thrilling as ever (Experimental episode formats this season include an entirely dialogue-free heist), but its real endgame boils the conflict down to one of mind and soul. With its final season, the ever-elusive show finally brings all its various string-pullers into the light in gut-wrenching yet deeply-empathetic reveals. Who could have guessed Mr. Robot possessed such humanity? 

#5. Dickinson (Season 1) - Apple TV+

I would not have stopped for Apple TV, but I would gladly stop for thee, Dickinson. Though inspired by the life and poetry of Emily Dickinson, Alena Smith’s comedy mixes the artist’s love of the macabre with a sense of millennial malaise. Throughout its 19th Century-set trials, tribulations, and guest spots from John Mulaney as Henry David Thoreau, the cast behave as modern teenagers and are backed by a contemporary soundtrack. The approach laces the sitcom’s situations with a delightful ironic wit, but, more preciously, forges a sense of camaraderie across eras. In the relatable burdens of past lovers, we find ourselves, and Dickinson find immortality.

#4. Tuca & Bertie (Season 1) - Netflix

While its shared style caused many comparisons to a certain other Netflix series, Tuca & Bertie was in fact a horse of another color. Confident in its voice, and the voices of its stars Tiffany Haddish and Ali Wong, from the get-go, the show stretched the wings of its animation with more substantial surrealism than its sister show. While a scintillating showcase of cartoon buffoonery, the series’ content is not just for the birds; Tuca & Bertie find courage in the face of addiction, power in the face of trauma, and persistence in the face of sexist power structures. Coupled with Bertie’s boyfriend Speckle, perhaps my favorite character from all of TV, these birds of a feather have impeccable chemistry and insight. Who knows what heights it could have soared to had it not been cancelled after one season?

#3. Green Eggs and Ham (Season 1) - Netflix

With unusual grandeur for a project its size, Green Eggs is a show that’s one of a kind. It’s hand-drawn animation (Expensive, I’m sure) gives this adaptation a can’t-miss allure. With an all-star cast, cute jokes, and surprising twists too, you’ll want to follow the Chickeraffe’s road-trip escape from the zoo. And don’t forget the very best part! This TV serves up a whole lot of heart! If you want a show whose theme song is a jam, you surely will love Green Eggs and Ham.

#2. Watchmen (Season 1) - HBO

The original graphic novel has long been an essential read for the genre; the new sequel TV show is now a must-watch, man. Respectful of its source material but not beholden to its ideas, Lost co-creator Damon Lindelof’s ‘remix’ revitalized Watchmen’s power by substituting Cold-War nuclear anxiety for the insidious threat of entrenched white supremacy. With a harrowing recreation of the Tulsa Massacre and ingenious retcons to a few comic characters, Watchmen provoked complicated questions on race relations. In true Lindelof fashion, it also wisely left many things unanswered. The quality is good enough that the comic’s writer might just have to rethink his stance on adaptations of his work, and good enough that the viewer might want HBO to rethink their decision to end the show after one year. Yet the retroactively limited series ends on a perfect note, and there is no more.

AND THE BEST TV SHOW OF 2019 IS...

#1. You’re the Worst (Season 5) - FXX

Evil is good, and The Worst is the best (What a list I have this year!). Of all the series on this list that capped their run in 2019, You’re the Worst has always had the lowest stakes, but its ending by far hit the hardest. In season five, the whirlwind will-they/won’t-they resistant romance between narcissistic writer Jimmy Shive-Overly and self-destructive PR executive Gretchen Cutler reached its decisive culmination. To suggest the show reached an ending, though, would be a disservice to the beautiful decisions made. Such decisions were a perfectly imperfect solution for two imperfect people, striving each day to be better and do well by one another, meeting each other where they are. In the end, the show’s initial billing as an “anti-rom-com” was proven a mismarriage; the laugh-out-loud show had a profound outlook on what it means to love another person. Hilarious and heartful from beginning to end, You’re the Worst will go down in history as one of TV’s greatest.

NEXT UP: THE 2019 AARON FOR BEST TV EPISODE!

#tv #TheAarons #TheAarons2019 #TheAaronsTV #best of #best of 2019 #evil #the good place #arrow #when they see us #mr robot #dickinson #tuca & bertie #green eggs and ham #watchmen #youre the worst

[racefortheironthrone]

Thoughts on Powers of X #1

Well, I did this for the one, might as well do it for t’other...

Well, any thought that this mini-series might be less weird than its companion was completely blown away by the very first page, which revealed that Powers of X (pronounced Powers of Ten) is going to be taking place in four different times:

Year One (X^0)

Year Ten (X^1)

Year One Hundred (X^2)

Year One Thousand (X^3)

...with each segment increasing by a power of ten, because apparently Hickman has decided he’d like to drive us all mad with math puzzles. That first page is a doozy of design, I must say, laying out four key moments (and four or three key players) in the past and future of mutant-kind, with the layout suggesting a parallel between all of these characters (as well as a suggestion that the guy in the Cerebro mask shares Charles’ lower facial features exactly.

Year One

We then get an un-interrupted six page sequence which, on the surface, seems the most normal but is anything but. The first page shows Charles Xavier strolling through a fair and sitting down on a bench to enjoy the weather and his good mood, although the symbolic connection between the dwarf ringmaster and the strongman and Xavier’s dream of mutantkind is quite ominous. Then someone who looks a lot like Moira McTaggart sits down next to Xavier, and this is where x-fan’s expectations all of the sudden get flipped upside-down. On the face of it, Charles meeting Moira around the same time that he first has his Dream of mutant/human co-existence would be quite normal...except that Moira’s tarot cards are depicting people and places in the Year One Hundred (more on this in a bit), and Moira is talking to Charles very familiarly, but he hasn’t actually met her yet. 

This is where a little alarum bell goes off in my mind shouting “TIME-TRAVEL SHENANIGANS!” 

This much-hyped scene turns out to be Charles reading Moira’s mind, but it’s very clear from what we’ve just seen that this is not the Moira we know. And if this Moira is a clone from the future (I’ll get into that in a bit), the publicity tag-line would make sense: after all, time travel to avert a bad future goes way back in X-Men, and often that time travel has involved things happening to Charles Xavier before he could get his X-Men off the ground. 

However, we’ve never see anyone go back just to tell Charles what happens in the future, even though that would profoundly change the timeline just by changing his mind. Is this what turns Charles Xavier into the be-helmeted man in Year Ten with the very different dream? Or would informing him of the future change or prevent the events of Year Ten?

Year Ten

Probably the most straightforward sequence - and the best argument for why HoX and PoX should be viewed as two halves of the same story - this sequence shows us exactly what happened to Mystique after she went through the Krakoa portal in Washington Square Park in HoX #1. 

It turns out that, as much as even Magneto is feeling the “hope-y, change-y” vibes, he, Mystique, and Professor X all have their own agendas regarding the information - note the running theme of the issue - that she pulled out of Damage Control’s servers. 

Further ominous notes: Charles Xavier has never been a telekinetic, and yet here he clearly uses telekinesis to grab Mystique’s thumb drive. That’s very ominous, especially given what we learn about cloned mutants have multiple, spliced-in mutant powers. Also, Professor X’s comment about “everyone who would live in...a better mutant world...owes something” echoes ominously with the interstitial material’s description of Omega class mutants as a natural resource for the state.

Year One Hundred

The most conventionally super-heroic segment, this section shows us an all-too familiar dystopian scenario, with cyborgized humans and cerberus-like sentinels working together to not merely kill mutants but violate their minds and bodies. Further signs of what they’ve been up to comes in the literally black-brained ex-Hound who was genetically designed for infiltration and subversion of her own people. 

A sign that mutants have adapted to this conflict by abandoning moral principles as well comes in the fact that the dead mutant in question is not only programmed to mind-wipe on death, but is repeating Professor X’s speech from Year 10. In a parallel to that era, it turns out that the mutant group who’ve been interecepted were downloading information from the Nexus 

We also meet our two main characters in this epoch - the red-skinned Nightcrawler lookalike Cardinal (whose Tarot card is the Devil, “the red god and the lost cardinal of the last religion” (no idea what that means)) and the metal-skinned Soulsword-slinging Rasputin (whose Tarot card is the Magician, “the metal metapmorph, the great sword, and the girl with one foot in two worlds” (no idea what that means)). As we will learn later, these are not names but clone-types, because war has its own way of getting us to dehumanize ourselves in the pursuit of victory. 

Important Interstitial #1: The Sinister Line

It wouldn’t be a Hickman comic without infographics, and this one was a doozy: at some point after Year 10, a crisis rocked the mutant nation which caused “the almost universal death or disappearance of senior leaders.” This crisis apears to have been engineered by none other than Mister Sinister in order to motivate the remaining mutant leadership into approving “breeding pits” located on Mars, where he could breed and clone mutants for “aggressive, militaristic traits,” to counter-balance the humans’ HOUND program. That’s a hell of a fall from grace.

We then learn that there were four generations of Sinister clones before the whole thing fell apart in a horrific calamity and yet further declension occurred:

First generation: straight-up clones of existing x-men, although the language of “divergent copies of a...pure, uncompromised X-gene” is as disturbing as you might expect from a Victorian eugenicist. (Are these the mass-produced units following from the prototypes we saw emerging from Krakoan cocoons in HoX #1?) Anyway, they all got turned into child soldiers to defend Krakoa until it eventually fell 30 years later. (Keep this date in mind.)

Second generation: combinations of only two x-genes, “mostly predictable.”

Third generation: combinations of up to five x-genes, apparently were wildly successful against the “Man-Machine Supremacy” and about to win the war, when...

Fourth generation: apparently were “produced with a corrupted hive-mind,” went rogue, destroyed 40% of all mutants, destroyed Krakoa, and then killed themselves taking out Mars and the Sinister pits therein.

And now we learn what our protagonists are: Rasputin is (seemingly) a fourth generation mutant with the combined powers of Quentin Quire, Piotr Rasputin, Unus the Untouchable, Kitty Pryde, and Laura Kinney, rather than Kitty and Colossus’ kid as some had feared. Notably, however, Rasputin doesn’t have the same gifts in the same strength as her progenitors: she’s half as strong a telepath as Quire, half as good as phasing as Kitty, half as good at healing as Laura, and about half as good at force-fields as Unus. The only places where she equals them is in turning into organic steel. BTW, if those powers seem somewhat redundant - why would you need to be intangible, made of organic steel, force-fielded, and self-healing all at the same time rather than focusing on just a few of those - well, clearly the intent was to create a tank and a half.

Meanwhile, Cardinal is a (seemingly third-generation) “outlier,” a failure in the breeding program that gradually got worse and worse. All Cardinals - and it’s not clear whether all Cardinals look like Nightcrawler - are pacifists and have “an obsession with creation myths,” and are extreme communitarians who reject individual identity. (Incidentally, Cardinal is where we get the religious through-line of the issue.)  One question: if he’s a pacifist, why is he carrying a rapier? Genetic holdover from Kurt Wagner?

Which raises an important question...given that more than 60% of generation four were pacifists, how exactly did they carry out so thorough a massacre of their own people?

And finally we learn that all of this was Mister Sinister’s plan...which ended with his execution. I remain skeptical, because while I absolutely buy that Mister Sinister would arrange things so that he could run his eugenics programs, I don’t get why he’d self-sabotage in order to defect to such an unrelentingly hostile enemy. 

Year One Hundred, Part 2

Here’s where we see the structure described as “the ower, the axis, the pillar of collapse and rebirth, the monolith of ascension.” (Keep your eye on that word.) Here we meet Nimrod the Lesser and Omega, and see the other side.

And what we find is a society where the machine is clearly beginning to become the dominant part of the Supremacy, despite a formal pretense at equality, a society where Nimrod makes polite noises at decency (”I am embarrassed and ashamed at what we did in the name of both expediency and annihiliation”), but then claps with childlike glee at the thought of getting to turn mutants into biological databanks.

(In a much less important interstitial, we learn that the HOUND program turned out to be a failure, with the scary ones being “ineffective hunters of their own kind,” and the majority of the black brains defecting en masse.)

Finally, we see an old man Wolverine, along with a green-suited Magneto, a very tree-like Black Tom Cassidy, and a Xorn, rendezvousing with the team to receive the data and bring them in touch with “the Old Man.” Which raises all kinds of questions as to when this happened vis-a-vis Mister Sinister’s betrayal.

Important Interstitial #2

In the wake of the fall of Krakoa, we learn that the once-burgeoning mutant population has been reduced to less than 10,000 refugees living in Shiar protected territory, with only 8 mutants left in the solar system...presumably the group we saw in part 2. 

Year One Thousand

And now we find out what happened to our poor Hound, namely that she’s been stuck in a tube for 900 years, a crumbling historical manuscript beyond the ability of the Librarian to preserve.

As we move outside, we learn something critically important: that the “human-machine-mutant war” ended, with humans reduced to zoo animals kept in a nature preserve. Does this mean mutants won? Or did the machines do away with both their enemies and their allies? 

#xmen #xmen meta #powers of x #spoilers #hoxpox

[jesse-marston]

                                                 Rootin’ Tootin’ Good                                                         Raw Doggin’ It

Short Change Hero // The Heavy|| Sail // AWOLNATION|| Bad Moon Rising // Mourning Ritual|| Arsonist’s Lullabye // Hozier|| God’s Country // Blake Shelton|| Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked // Cage The Elephant|| Maneater // Blue Eyed Blondes|| The Devil Went Down to Georgia // Zac Brown Band|| Bartholomew // The Silent Comedy|| Old Town Road // Lil Nas X|| Honky Tonk Badonkadonk // Trace Adkins|| Drunk On A Plane // Dierks Bentley|| Down The Road // C2C|| Born for This // Paramore|| Come with Me Now // KONGOS|| The Wolf // SIAMES|| I’m So Sorry // Imagine Dragons|| Can’t Hold Me Down // GRiZ, Tash Neal|| Bottom of the River // Delta Rae|| Devil’s Backbone // The Civil Wars|| Beat It // Fall Out Boy|| Supremacy // Muse|| Natural // Imagine Dragons|| Blood On The Leaves // Kanye West|| Survivor // 2WEI|| Ghost // Mystery Skulls

#krovscastletask #Inspo.

[carrowe]

AMYCUS CARROW is A DEATH EATER in the war, even though HIS official job is as A CURSE BREAKER & HIT MAN the TWENTY SIX year old PUREBLOOD is known to be PATIENT and RESERVED but also VIOLENT and TWO FACED. some might label them as THE DEVIL IN DISGUISE. fc: ryan gosling 

ANTHEMS:

feel it still - portugal the man // devil like me - rainbow kitten surprise // dead man’s arms - bishop briggs // fever pitch - rainbow kitten surprise // devil eyes - hippie sabotage // dark side - bishop briggs.

pinterest board (x)

BACKGROUND / FAMILY:

Amycus Abigor Carrow came crashing into the world screaming for his sister. Born the eldest to the Carrow dynasty, he was expected to eventually mount the role as the heir to the family legacy, but Amycus quickly proved himself to be Quite the Disappointment. 

As a young child, Amycus was soft spoken, easily intimidated and quiet ( main inspiration for baby Amycus: Radu from And I Darken tbh ). Mostly clung to the family’s staff, always crying, always craving closeness. For a while, he was just as angelic as he looked. 

Never saw much of his parents while growing up. His father was a successful businessman who only had kids because he was supposed to ( to carry on the blood line ), and wanted nothing to do with him. Instead, Amycus was left in the care of his grandfather.

His grandfather was FUCKED. An absolutely terrible man. A Death Eater before his time. An actual demon. Can’t say enough bad things about him, ya feel.

Either way, his grandfather was absolutely disgusted by Amycus, who could never fit into the mold that had been created for him. Thought his grandson was a poor excuse for a Carrow and thought he could change that through pain and violence. So, lessons were drilled in using corporal punishment, and the emotional and physical abuse he suffered eventually turned him into something colder and darker. What had once been soft, turned harsh, rough around the edges. A shell of a boy was left behind, not a trace of that sweetness left behind once they were done with him ( but were they ever? ).

Amycus basically became filled with resentment against everyone in his family, with the exception of Alecto. She has always been there, from the day they were born. She was the one to dry his tears, the one to hold his hand, the one to tell him where to hide. The one constant, his safe haven. They come as a matching set, and Amycus would kill ( and definitively has, too lbr ) for her.

Gained a definite rebellious streak pretty early on, which only became more aggressive as he got older. Once he reached his teenage years, he’d do ANYTHING and everything to fuck with his father & grandfather. Kinda stopped caring about the punishment, so used to pain that he stopped fearing it. Almost stopped feeling it.

Definitively grew up in his sister’s shadow, and was always the lesser Carrow.

When he turned fifteen, he moved out and never looked back. Decided to make his own future, and just never spoke to his family (Alecto is always the exception we all know this) again. Because fuck y’all, basically.

SO. His family’s plans had been for him to finish his education at Hogwarts, and then follow in his father’s foot steps and take over the company and the family name. Amycus had different plans though, obviously. 

His family were... so angry with him. But they definitively pretend ( because can’t have Amycus ruining their good reputation, am I right ) that they were the ones to encourage Amycus to find his own path in life and become a curse breaker.

Though, Amycus was never denounced as a Carrow ( because they didn’t wanna air their dirty laundry to the world, ya know ). Most pureblood families have noticed though that Amycus isn’t exactly... close with his family. I mean, at pureblood parties, he literally pretends that he can’t see them. 

AESTHETIC / VIBES:

old gramophones, blood stained mirrors, broken glasses, bleeding fists, standing in silence for hours, chipped teeth, unwavering loyalty, unhealed scars, getting home at the crack of dawn, red wine, eyes too blue to be trusted, long showers, god complexes, the color of dusk, messy hair, blood soaked suits, always cheating death, a rebel just for kicks, dried crimson on dull blades, half smiles, just beating and beating until the world stops, no conscience, half empty wine bottles, impersonal offices, a face that doesn’t quite match his demeanor.

HOGWARTS YEARS:

Was a hat stall between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. 

patience/loyalty/dedication vs self preservation/resourcefulness/dedication mostly.

At Hogwarts, Amycus felt in power for the first time. Ended up becoming the aggressor, finding solace in pain and violence. Found that he was good at inflicting pain, and liked being good at SOMETHING. Had never really felt that before. :/

Eventually got a taste for blood, and started getting into fights with other students, each run in more violent than the next.

STILL, did not end up in detention, because for a while, the teachers couldn’t believe that someone like Amycus ( who was mostly known for being very quiet and looking sweet ) would hurt another student. It would take for him to eventually get caught in the act, until that perception shattered.

Was that kid who used bugs and insects to practice unforgivable curses on. Eventually progressed to torturing students as well.

Excelled in charms, and can do wonders with a wand when he puts his mind to it. Most other grades were pretty shit though. 

AFTER HOGWARTS:

Once he graduated from Hogwarts, he was meant to take his place in the Carrow dynasty ( grandfather somehow STILL believing that he would come to his senses ), but fuck that. So he basically left the country as fast as possible, and became a cursebreaker.

Which just made sense, because he has always been good at inflicting curses, and breaking them isn’t that different. He is very good at what he does.

First few years were spent working in ancient tombs abroad, mostly. That kind of work fit him really well, because he could wear whatever he wanted, didn’t have to talk to people too much, could do his own thing. Was also always someone around to beat up.

After a while, he started missing his sister, and returned home, where he found work at the ministry of magic. Today, he works for the removal of curses, jinxes and hexes office, which is a subdivision for the improper use of magic office. 

Really likes his job? BUT. Also has a #second job.

On the side, he’s sort of a gun ( wand ) for hire, and will kill anyone who needs to be killed, for a price. Gives zero shit about the money though ( but the client needs to be rich, ya feel ).

Most of his clients are members of the sacred 28, who somehow always seem to want SOMEONE dead.

Honestly, I haven’t 100% figured out how he conducts this business because obviously he wants to remain anonymous. He probably has some sort of dramatic way of getting people to give him names that need to die idk. #to be determined

Joined the Death Eaters mostly because of his sister? But their agenda also really fits him, because violence? Bigotry? Death? Sign him tf up.

He isn’t the most invested in the whole pureblood supremacy thing ( but would he ever admit that? that’s a no ), but overall likes Voldemort and what he stands for.

Though he’s also lowkey intimidated by / afraid of Voldemort and is quite pleased with the fact that he doesn’t have to report directly to him.

For the Death Eaters, Amycus mostly works as an information gatherer, which is basically just a euphemism for him being one of their main torturers, who will torture people until they tell him whatever it is the Death Eaters want to know. He usually works together with his sister and they are disturbingly good at what they do.

AS A PERSON:

Cares very little for most people and is so so so selfish.

Lacks most of the finesse of his sister, tbh.

100% neutral evil. Kind of has a moral compass, it just points in the wrong direction at all times? Mostly just does whatever is best for him and Alecto though, and has zero interest in any righteous bullshit.

Does he think that he’s doing the right thing? Nope. He’s well aware that he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A bad dude.  Does he care? Also no.

Might just be the most private person you’ll ever meet? He seldom reveals anything about himself, and when he does, it’s usually not true.

Will also lie about the dumbest and smallest of details.

SO self disciplined. Always in complete control, and it’s very hard to get a genuine reaction / rise out of him. Also so so so patient, and is happy to wait for whatever his current end game is.

Drinks and smokes heavily, but doesn’t personally think that he has a problem.

Mostly just a dumb asshole.

SO COLD.

Thrives off violence and is a total brute tbh.

Never fucking does what anyone tells him to do. 

Someone: pls do this Amycus: *does the exact opposite*

Bisexual !

Pretty good at hiding his death eater ties since he’s… paranoid as FUCK. And also keeps to himself. Always wears a mask. But some people probably suspect… stuff anyways, if they’ve like. Spent longer than two hours with him. Listen if Amycus wasn’t such a fucking asshole he probably could get away with it (/scooby doo villain voice). But then again, others will probably think he’s just cold af.

Looks a lot nicer than he is, which works to his advantage most of the time? Like he just looks like a nerdy, good dude. Is a total demon, but looks like an angel. 

STYLE / FASHION / APPEARANCE :

Wears glasses (x), but somehow manages to fucking break them ALL THE TIME. The only thing keeping them together is magic.

Wears mostly wizard suits for work ( bc he has to :/ ), but will wear those long black robes in his free time. Think a vampire cape, flying in the wind. Ultimate drama. He really is THAT guy.

Will also wear stupid wizard band t-shirts a lot when working.

Keeps his hair short.

Like 70% of his wealth is probably spent on buying new clothes, because he keeps fucking ruining them by getting blood on them? Or just having them ripped to shreds in a fight, that works too.

Looks like he’s wearing the same exact shoes every day but actually has like... 200 different pairs. They all look the same.

Eyes appear either blue or grey, depending on the lighting.

Has some tattoos, and a half sleeve on his right arm, going from his shoulder to his elbow.

CHARACTER INFLUENCES :

caleb haas ( quantico )- the snark. the assholery. the background. the black sheep.

clay haas ( quantico ) - just the right amount of polished. the style. the general aesthetic. the hair.

angelus ( btvs ) - the disregard for human life. the darkness. the occasional brooding. the quips. 

holden ford ( mindhunter ) - the scheming. the hidden ambition. the slyness. the resolution.

lucifer morningstar ( lucifer ) - the smile, the general vibe, the quips, the mannerisms, the darkness.

eric northman ( southern vampire mysteries ) - the confidence. the general dumbness. the stubbornness.

demon dean winchester ( supernatural ) - the occasional charm. the being an actual demon-ness. the blood lust. the bad jokes. the weakness for a pretty face.

wolverine ( x men ) - the violence. the moodiness. the hatred. the occasional gruff demeanor.

takeshi kovac ( altered carbon ) - the violence. the fucked up moral compass. the buried anger. the instinct to fight.

elian ( to kill a kingdom ) - the rebel prince. the angry heir. the sarcasm. the dialogue.

radu ( and i darken ) - amycus as a child. the softness. the sweet face. the loyalty to his sister.

hannibal lecter ( silence of the lambs ) - the calm. the politeness. seems so civilized, so nice. isn’t though.

FAVORITE CHARACTER TROPES :

DISSONANT SERENITY - someone smiling gently in the middle of death and carnage, seeming almost enlightened as they slit throats left and right.

THE BERSERKER - throws himself into battle with such reckless abandon, that it seems like he wants to die. never, ever retreats.

FACE OF AN ANGEL, MIND OF A DEMON - looks nice, is a demon.

DEVIL IN PLAIN SIGHT - obviously up to no good, but few people seem to take notice.

EVEN EVIL HAS LOVED ONES - loves his sister.

BLACK SHEEP - the family screw up, someone who rejects their role in the family.

DARK AND TROUBLED PAST™ - something terrible happened in the past. tragic backstory. yada yada.

EVEN EVIL HAS STANDARDS - or at least his own moral compass.

MAN OF WEALTH AND TASTE - turns out evil has quite a lot of money and excellent fashion taste. most of the time.

PRAGMATIC VILLAINY - only does evil things when it serves him or his purposes tbh.

VIOLENCE IS THE ONLY OPTION - must fight.

OPPORTUNISTIC BASTARD - doesn’t really have a plan, totally winging it.

#maraudrshq:intros #abuse cw #child neglect cw #child abuse cw #murder cw #death cw #blood cw #violence cw #torture cw

[cosmoseinfeld]

Again with the horns...

I haven't seen anyone talk about this but I can't get it out of my head, so I guess I have to step out of my comfort zone and write about it myself?! Ehch...

(I also feel like the only person in this fandom who enjoys this character. But what can I say, I have a soft spot for cheesy old fashioned villains…)

In 13x07, when Asmodeus enters the bar and is super not impressed by Lucifer, he flicks him across the room doing THIS gesture:

(screenshot cred to HoN)

The camera focuses on it and his shining white suit is highlighting it even more, yelling „Here, look at this!“.

First thing that came to my mind was this:

And I really like how they tie every character to Jack (Lucifer’s tan jacket etc etc). I know this shirt has been written about before but forgive me, I really can’t remember any meta. Feel free to chime in.

Now, back to the symbolism of horns (Wanek & Co really like them horns)

I did some research (because who needs to work at work, eh? Not me, apparently) and I found some interesting stuff which I thought is right in line with the rest of our Asmodeus research so far:

The strength, power and supremacy were but a part of the symbolism of horns. The other was virility - procreative vigor. Even the use of the oxen to pull the plow had its sexual connotation. […]Horns were an erotic stimulant.

Stag horns in particular were an old symbol of cuckolds. Christianity, too, sought to discourage the pagan worship of horns and depicted the Devil himself as wicked with bestiality, and thus horned. […]In addition to physical strength and generative power, horns symbolized mental and spiritual strength as well.

The last bit immediately brought my thoughts back to THIS scene:

Asomdeus meditating / trying to find Jack (followed by some serious genital displaying manspreading). But agh, what is this?!

SPN, again with all the hand symbolism. But I won’t digress… I’ll save this one for another into-the-void-scream.

Back to the horns…

The Lord said to Joshua, "...and seven priests shall bear before the ark seven trumpets of rams' horns ...and the priests shall blow with the trumpets." And when they blew, the walls of Jericho came tumbling down!

Oh shit, didn’t I read some meta about Joshua/Jericho x SPN?!

The words "horn" and "corn" are synonymous -- cornucopia, unicorn.[…]

Charms to avert evil have long been shaped like horns. These, or making a sign of the horn with the fingers and "butting" with them, wards off the "evil eye."

From another source:

„Can be phallic in the sense of masculine penetration […] Can be fabulous, though, when thought of with the mystical unicorn.“

This, I find very interesting. I always primarily associated horns with evil. But it seems quite the opposite. Which falls in line with this season’s themes of „things that aren’t the things they look like“/“black/white/grey“... and rainbows and unicorns, I guess?

Sacrificial breads and cakes were crescent shaped, in deference to the moon gods, which of course wore horns. French croissants still are.

Here is a nugget (nougat) for all food meta fans. Can’t wait to see Jack enjoy a croissant.

I really have no idea where I was going with this (because this is my first ever attempt at sth similar to a meta post) but there you have it. Thoughts?

@tinkdw @elizabethrobertajones @mittensmorgul @naruhearts @floralmotif@amwritingmeta @thejabberwock @bluestar86 @postmodernmulticoloredcloak and anyone who wants to comment on this

#spn meta #spn 13x07 #asmodeus #spn s13 #spn vs horns #symbolism #silent storytelling #I feel like this went nowhere #spn 13x02 #jack the nougat #jack the nephilim #my brain created this