#Black Christ Crusaders

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/759992406521397248/im-sure-this-has-been-said-before-but-i-aroace?source=share

Repliers all up in arms against a straw-terf, jesus christ.

I didn't say men are naturally misogynistic, I said men are *SOCIALLY* conditioned not to see women as human (and I love the reply claiming I said both of those things as if they're complementary, not opposites).

I didn't say I feel like this *because* I'm aroace, much less that all aroace people feel like this, just figured it was relevant to say I'm not straight.

I didn't say *anything* about what men and/or women should do or how they should be treated in real life. If women are happy in het relationships that's their business (that's the big difference between me and Andrea Dworkin). The only real life-related thing you could glean from my ask is I personally don't trust men, which I don't, but that is my right just as it's black people's right not to trust white people (or date them, or read white/black romance) -- and it's insane that I can't say that without people thinking that I'm what, beating trans women (who are women btw, not men) out of bathrooms?

And finally, I didn't say anything about what people should write. If they wanna write and read het that's also their business.

I just talked about my reading preferences, the way a lot of anons come here just to express that they like or dislike reading something. It's a squick, not a moral crusade.

--

I agree with you that men are socially conditioned in stupidass ways. I've even said it often on here, particularly when discussing subtext and the normie gaze in media and so on.

It's not that assertion that people are reacting to: it's the tone and style in which you wrote it.

Nonnie... the vibes you give off are odd. People are responding accordingly.

[devilfic]

❝nocturnal animal❞

plot: okay, maybe the caped crusader is a vampire. and maybe you just want to know what it would feel like for him to sink his teeth into you. it's not weird. pairing: vampire!battinson!bruce wayne x detective!gn!reader. cw: vampires (duh), vampire-typical erotic descriptions of blood drinking, vampire hypnotism/compulsion, teasing martinez (lovingly). words: 2.6k.

a/n: I had a rough month last month and writer's block was the icing on the cake, but I picked up a vampire encyclopedia at the library and found out batman has been turned into a vampire... several times. more times than I thought, actually. this is what came of it. happy halloween month!!

"How does it feel?"

Gordon cuts his eyes to you for a moment, still thumbing through rows of manila folders. You sort of do the same just to appear a little less eager. "How does what feel?"

"The... well, you know." You awkwardly gesture to his wrist where the sleeve had fallen back a hair.

Your lieutenant flicks back his coat sleeve as if he were checking the time, but the watch face is laid flush against the inside of his wrist. He tugs at it. Frowns. Shrugs. "Feels like nothin'."

"Oh, do not bullshit me."

Gordon looks at you again. Then he glances around the storage room, quieter and emptier than every other room in the precinct right now. It's just the two of you here. You'd made sure of that before you decided to ask.

He props his arm on the box of cold cases and gives you a hard, judging stare. "I'm not describing what it feels like to have a grown man sucking..." He glances around again just to be sure no one had slipped in all of a sudden, "...if you wanna know, go ask him to bite you."

You... hadn't considered that. "He'd be okay with that?"

"I don't know, probably. It's not like he has a preference."

"I thought he didn't like Martinez."

"Well, you've seen Martinez. He eats like a high schooler."

You press your thumb into your own wrist, clenching and unclenching your fist until the veins show. You're possessed with a shiver as the draft from the vent above cools the skin. "So I... what? I just go up and ask?"

"Yeah, sure. Worst he can say is no."

"Detective."

About a third of your coffee goes flying, splattering milky brown onto concrete. You're lucky it had gone cold on your way up here or else it would've singed the skin off your ankles, but you're still not happy.

"Christ- get down from there. I'm not talking to you like that."

The Bat is perched comfortably above the doorway, looking down on you from above, but makes no move to get down. He keeps himself crouched, "Where's Lieutenant Gordon?"

“Night off with Barb. He’s been overworking lately, you know how he is. I told him I’d take care of you.” You stare up into the darkness and feel your heartbeat pick up a bit. You force yourself to still it, keep it tamped down under the years of poker face your career had honed for you. “I’m serious. Come down and talk to me or I’m making Martinez do this.”

You usually negotiated with people on the other side of a table, and none of them could ever hear your heart going ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump… so this was fairly new to you.

He drops down in front of you, cape fluttering gracefully. The first time you met him, Gordon had warned you to keep your cool. I mean, six foot something unknown, dressed in all black armor with innumerable resources and connections, endlessly prowling the night sky, whose intentions were murky and who was only on your side until he decided he wasn’t? Everyone thought Gordon was crazy. You were the first to give him a chance.

You noticed the little things. You rarely saw him during the day, never could get him to come out of the shadows when you did, always skulking about and never seeming to slow down. Weekdays, weekends, holidays. At one point, you’d wondered if he was even human. You’d wondered it out loud, in front of Gordon, expecting him to rip off the cowl to reveal a labyrinth of wires and then-

And then you’d realized you’d been paying an awful lot of attention to the Batman, and absolutely not enough to Jim Gordon.

He doesn’t sway or make faces like other people, doesn’t give away his thoughts like you’re used to. Instead, you’ve noticed very minute ticks: prolonged staring (even worse than his normal staring), not bothering to take a breath, the stillness of him and around him. The cityscape in the background might as well be a wide, empty plain when you’re standing next to him. Eventually, he lies, “Martinez is fine.”

"Worst he can say is no," your ass.

You try not to be offended by that. “You don’t like Martinez.” You sound pretty offended, against your best efforts.

“That’s not true.”

“I- you know what I meant. You said it yourself. Gordon told me.”

“It's fine."

You squint, “Am I not good enough for you?” A rare look of surprise flickers in his eyes. "You just said you’d prefer the guy whose blood you don’t even like.”

“I said he’s fine.” You hear a little edge to his voice that gives you pause. You’ve heard it before, coiling around the margins of his words. A tell-tale sign, Gordon had said, that you were trekking into dangerous territory.

You press your lips into a firm line but stand your ground, “I already made my choice. If you really want Martinez, say so. Clearly. Use your words and mean it.”

The Bat stares, unreadable.

You know how this goes with Gordon. It’s nothing intimate. The wrist most of the time, other times the neck when it’s closest. Or when Gordon’s busy on his computer. It’s always quick. You don’t even see Gordon flinch.

But with you? You don’t know how it’ll go with you. You don’t know where to start, only that you’d been thinking about it all day after you’d finally called Gordon and promised “I can take care of him.”

Batman takes your wrist, brings it to his nose, and flinches away. You panic at the thought that it might really be he prefers Martinez to you until he plucks the coffee out of your hand and sets it down on the ledge. His eyes follow yours as his mouth falls to the inner wrist and you feel wet, cool breath against it. It tingles all the way up to your ears. Those eyes flicker away a millisecond later, inspecting your arm in its entirety.

His leather-gloved thumb caressing your skin should make you something other than what you’re currently feeling, that’s for sure.

“Thank you,” Batman starts, sounding reluctant. His eyes quickly flicker to your throat and then away again, “Do you have a preference? Anywhere I should avoid?”

"Avoid?"

"Anywhere someone might look. A friend... or partner, perhaps."

Your lips part, sucking in a breath, “No, uh- no. No one like that. Wrist is fine. O-Or neck. Whichever is… easier.”

He doesn't say anything more. His lips curl up. Two pointed fangs reveal themselves behind the parting of his mouth, fangs that weren’t there before when he spoke. You ruminate on that, a reminder that the man under the mask could be anyone if he could hide so easily like that.

You watch—transfixed, barely registering the pain—when those fangs pierce skin. Blood beads where his teeth push in slow, and the icy sting you're expecting is no more than a needle prick at best. But the strangeness of a mouth pressed there, suckling at the wound as blood dribbled out of it… you stretch your fingers and stiffen. It was all you could do not to scare yourself and rip that hand back, tearing a vein in the process.

His tongue unmistakably presses to the flat of your inner wrist and before you can question it, he’s got his eyes on you. All of it goes quiet after that.

You no longer feel the sting, nor his lips pillowing around his teeth, nor the grip of his hands holding your wrist to his mouth. All you see is blue. Endless, reeling pools of blue. Not red like they were in the movies, or yellow, or black all over. Blue. Human blue. Wondrously beautiful blue. Had you ever liked blue eyes this much before? It felt like this was your first time truly seeing them. They were just so… radiant. And here he was, swathed in night, with pale skin peeking out like a waning crescent. Had you ever seen skin so pale? It felt like this was the first time truly seeing it. It was just so...

Your train of thought wanes. Sweeping over you is a dizzy spell so abrupt that you think you gasp. Or whimper.

Feeling returns to you as soon as he breaks your gaze. All at once, your skin is flush, your breathing concernedly slow, your knees weak. It’s so shocking that you buckle at the slightest gust of wind.

Just as quickly, the Bat clings to your wrist and pulls you flush to his chest, holding your bleeding arm in between the both of you while he holds you in a half-dip (like a pause in a waltz), suspended over you. Your eyes catch on the darkness staining his bottom lip where his fangs are still poking out, and you watch as a drop of blood gathers, swells, and falls… right onto your cheek. It’s still warm.

You feel a subconscious warning thrum through you. Perhaps it was because you were so close now, that the blue looked more hypnotic than radiant and his skin looked more undead than celestial. You understand in one sweeping, chilling second, what you’ve just let sink its teeth into you. “What the fuck was that?”

“You were starting to panic,” he explains, low, using no effort at all to hold you, “I calmed you down.”

“How? It’s like… it’s like you hypnotized me. Did you hypnotize me? Do you do that to Gordon?”

You don’t mean for it all to come out like an accusation, but the feeling had been akin to walking on a cloud, only to wake up the minute your foot falls through. In the time that you’d been lost in his eyes, waxing poetic about his otherworldliness, he could’ve… well, he could’ve… he could’ve done anything.

The feeling was untethered. Wild. Alien.

When he’s sure you won’t hurt yourself, the Bat lets your hand fall back to your side, straightens you up but never pulls away. Your eyes keep glancing between his and the points right above his brow, unsure that he wouldn’t draw you right back into that place if you looked directly at him again. “Gordon doesn’t panic.” He simply answers.

You go to defend yourself but you had felt it; the mounting pressure of it, the strange pain toggling on the instinct to get away, get away, get away. Your heartbeat was so slow when you came back to, like he'd damn near put a stop to it. “I panicked?”

The Bat doesn’t laugh at you, even when the answer is so obvious. “It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's a common phobia.”

You're struck by his implication, “Are you seriously trying to say I’m scared of blood?”

“Maybe just your own.”

“I'm a detective. I see blood all the time. Maybe it's because you're a fucking vampire and my ooga booga brain is rightfully terrified.”

“You offered.”

Your ears burn, “As a favor to Gordon.”

“I can hear you lying.”

The sureness of his statement stops you quick. You feel yourself choke on nothing, sounding strangled as you respond, “Excuse me?”

“I could hear it,” your heartbeat thrums in your ears as the Bat continues to hold you, less waltz now and more hostage situation, “I heard it when you lied just now. I heard it earlier, on your way here. And I heard Gordon on the phone… not with Barbara.” He's blocking the wind sweeping over the ledge, making your flush feel hotter than before. “I don't prefer Martinez to you, but I know why you offered.”

You swallow, exposed. He'd make a damn good detective. "And?"

Your offended wrist is seized once more, and he studies the small holes there, as well as the teeny-tiny drops of blood still lightly flowing from the wound. It looks like it'll stop soon.

Achingly slow, Batman brings it to his mouth and licks away the last of you.

You have no choice but to watch, of sound mind and body, because he refuses to look you in the eye. You're forced to see him in his entirety. Forced to keep down that mounting pressure. A test, to see if you're just a little bit better than Martinez.

You steady your breathing and stare, trying to make this unnatural thing feel natural. Trying to not like it so much.

When he peels away, your skin is clean, and you can tell your blood is beginning to coagulate. "If you come back to me, I won't stop you. But if we're going to do this, I'd prefer somewhere with less concrete. In case you faint."

Your eyes narrow in on the slight pursing of his lips. Almost as if he were trying not to laugh. "I'm not scared of blood." You can’t tell if it’s because he’s so good at his poker face or if he really just doesn’t want to tease you further, but something about the clearness in his expression convinces you to speak up for yourself, “It’s probably because I missed dinner. That's all."

For one single moment, his face shifts. Then it smooths out again. You watch him climb onto the ledge, next to your long-forgotten excuse of a coffee, and turn back to you, "Will you be alright?"

You want to be annoyed about it, you really do, but the concern in his voice is true. As a compromise, you take a seat on the ledge, "Well, if you see the signal in the sky tonight, just assume I ate shit going downstairs."

As one final surprise, he smiles at you. Then he's disappearing into the darkness below.

You can hear Gordon in your head as you slip a bag of chips out of Martinez' upper drawer. After the vending machine had eaten six of your dollars, you'd given up just short of kicking a hole in the glass. You didn't want to think about what kind of hell Chief Bock would put you through for that one.

After the Bat left, you'd stumbled your way down several flights of stairs with the hopes of ending your shift only a little past midnight. There were still cops around, most unusually idle for a night in Gotham, and you supposed they had Batman to thank for that. Not that they ever would.

The very thought of him flashes images of his tongue on your skin, lapping at your blood, and you immediately force yourself to think of anything else. That was going to be a long-lasting memory.

If you were lucky, you at least wouldn't see him until tomorrow night, and that might give you time to get some sense into you. And food, too. The chips in your hand are no Michelin star dinner, but they'd hold you over until you made it home.

Just as you turn the corner to your office, you notice that something isn't quite how you left it. The door, for starters, is cracked where it was once closed.

You take a beat, then two. You listen for movement in your office, careful not to cast a shadow under the door and give yourself away, but hear nothing.

You push the door open in a rush, staring into the dimly lit room searching for the barrel of a gun staring back at you. Or, considerably worse, a person.

Instead, on your desk where it definitely wasn't before, is a bag of something that smells suspiciously like good food. You approach cautiously. Sure enough, you recognize it from Gordon's favorite lunch spot... your go-to, as only Gordon would know it.

A note is stuck to the side of the bag, a message written in neat curves and lines. The penmanship of a steady hand, not at all like your lieutenant's fast-moving scrawl. You read the note and feel a phantom sting where your wrist is patched up in band-aids.

Thanks for dinner.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat​ @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday

[non-binar-ysunset]

Hi my name is Claude Righ’teous Catholic Crusader Frollo and I have a pious gray bowl cut (that's how I got my name) and a distinguished aquiline nose and icy dark eyes like Christ’s empty tomb and a lot of people tell me I look like His Holiness Pope Sixtus IV (AN: if u don't know who he is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Saint Jerome but I wish I was because he's my favorite early church father. I'm a medieval guy but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin and really big eye bags because I pray to Beata Maria all night instead of sleeping, because sloth is a sin. I'm also a judge, and I work at the Palace of Justice in France. I'm a righteous man (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love the cathedral sacristy and I take all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black velvet robe with matching cape around it and weird epaulets, dark purple hose and pointy black shoes. On my head was my favorite hat, which is a big black and purple triangle with a long satiny red sash. I was walking outside Notre Dame. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A bunch of revellers were throwin da feast of fools outside. i put up my middle finger at them.

[sideeve]

can i request a bruce wayne smut where the reader is falcone's daughter and bruce uses her to get out informations of her dad but in the end the woman realises what he is into and they have like rough sex kind of...

⋆୨୧ ;; piece of cake

→ ⋆୨୧ ;; who knew falcone’s daughter opens her legs for anybody?

→ 🩰;; falcone!fem!reader , smut , reader is falcone’s daughter , uhhh keep reading ig 🤷🏽‍♀️ , reader’s looks . skin tone . nor hair type is described

“speak.” the masked crusader dressed in black stared back at you. you were surprised you weren’t tied up. usually in these cases, the victim would be tied up. “what am i doing here?” “your father, falcone, is protecting someone very dangerous. and i need to know who.”

you squint at him, “you think i know who it is?” he steps a little closer to you. “you can find out. your father will be hosting a gala. i need your help.” help? “why would i help you?” that’s your father for christ’s sake. he could go to prison.

“do you want people dying on your father’s account? or do you want to save a few lives?”

“put these in.” he slid you a case with contacts in them. “why? my sight is decent.” you slid them back. he groans before grabbing your neck, holding you still while he puts in the contacts. “they record whatever you see.” he points to one of the many tvs on his large black desk.

“okay, inspector gadget. what am i supposed to be looking for?” “you? nothing. i’ll tell you what to say and who to tell to?” you nod, grabbing your purse before leaving his cave.

“can you see?” you whisper. “yes, look to the right.” turning your head, a sketchy bald man was staring at you, waving. “don’t make me talk to him.” “we need information.” you close your eyes, swallowing your protests before waltzing over to the man.

“hey there, handsome.” please shut the fuck up. the feeling of needing to puke crept up on you. this better be worth it. “saw you cross the room, didn’t think falcone’s daughter would take interest in me.” i don’t. “care to have a drink?”

a few rounds of alcohol later, you have the man sobbing about a bad thing he’s done. “and your father—don’t even get me started. he forced me to kill some guy and,” he hiccups, “i don’t want to do it.” he shoves his face in his hands, ashamed. god, he’s so annoying. “i’m sorry, uh…guy.”

the guy looks up at you, getting closer. “you won’t do anything, right?” this was your breaking point. the man had made you uncomfortable from the start. and now he’s acting like a child.

you took off, leaving him there to continue sobbing. “what are you doing?! he had something!” "then you try doing them this." you rip the earpiece out, stomping on it before fleeing to your place.

"fucking asshole." you had gotten into some comfortable clothes and decided to call it a night. "who's an asshole?" you shriek as he stands there, in your room. "how did you find where i live?!"

he walks closer to you, his chest touching yours. "you still have the contacts in." he smiled, but it had a glint of mischief that made your skin crawl. shit. "i don't like when people back down. we had that." "no, you had that. i didn't want any parts of this." you corrected.

his gloved hand cups your cheek, making you shiver. "then why did you accept the offer?" his eyes trail from your face down to your body. "my eyes are up here." he hums. "would you be mad if i kissed you right now?" he questions.

before you could answer, he leans closer to you, his lips dragging over yours. his hands grip around your upper thighs, soon throwing you on your bed. what is going on right now- your thoughts were interrupted as your pants were ripped from your legs, along with your underwear. "you were gettin' wet." he points out. by the sound of his tone, you could tell he was smirking. "i'm not going to make you wait any longer." he kisses your thigh before taking off his bottoms.

his throbbing length prodding at your whole. "i need to know if you want this." you nod. finally, he bottomed into you, the both of you groaning. his cock had split you in half. you had never been with someone this big. "m-move."

your eyes screwed shut as he began to thrust, his tip kissing the inside of your spongy walls. your toes curled at the pleasure. "my god. don't-don't stop." your hands made their way to his shoulders. his thrusts gradually get harder. your hole squeezed around his length, his head thrown back, "fuck, wish i had done this sooner."

you didn't know how this man was, but you knew you had felt something for him. "where do you want it?" "i'm on the pill." he nods, thrusting harder. his hips began to stutter as he got closer to his orgasm.

suddenly, he picked you up by your waist, hitting you at a different angle. "oh my-" you gripped at his shoulder even harder, the pleasure was overwhelming. the band in your stomach finally ripped, your arousal covering his length. "good girl." he whispers in your ear. he stammered as he finish inside of you.

he laid the both of you on your bed, him still being inside of you. the both of you stared at each other for a while. "who are you under that mask?" your thumb rubbed over his cowl. his hand wrapped around yours, "we'll get there."

author's note ;; this shit might be the worst i've ever written. i'm sorry for the wait.

taglist ;; @iluvrpattzz

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Minotauros

Summary: It's a marvelous little garden party amongst friends. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Hugo Fraser Tyrwhitt x virgin!afab!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Content Warnings: Smut With A Side Dish Of Plot 18+!, Heavy DubCon, Coercion, Loss Of Virginity, Unprotected Intercourse, Overall Predatory Vibes, Hugo Talking Reader Through It

A/N: This plot bunny had me waking up in a cold sweat at 3:50am.

Tagging: @theprettiesthead @midnight-mess @queer-crusader (ty so much for the amazing music recs, love 🖤)

I saw a fox by the rabbit hole

You saw a prince from a fairy tale

He promised that he'd watch over you

Turned out to be the fox we all knew

- Run Rabbit Run By The Hoosiers

“Christ alive, Matthew, stop pissing and shitting yourself. My family built this botanical atrocity, I'm going in and go find her.” Hugo groaned under his breath, annoyance at his acquaintances behavior simmering hot.

“You'd do that? Thank you, really, thank you so much, dude. She's gotta be so scared.” Matthew sighed in return, hands falling to his sides like soggy spaghetti.

“Of course, Matty.”, Hugo shoved his hands in his pockets and went to take off, a grin spreading all across his face as soon as he'd turned his back to Matthew, “We'll be right back in no time!”

“Hugo?” His name tumbling from your quivering lips was hardly to be heard through the uncontrollable sniffling and barely made it past your knees that you held closely tugged to your chest.

Your teary eyes narrowed down as much as they could before pushing a new, hot gush of tears down the curve of your reddened cheeks, trying to decipher if it was really Hugo stepping onto the opening from one of the many green corridors leading to it. The moon beamed down upon it in her pale beauty, but it was very much not enough to see further than a couple of meters.

“Hello!” You exhaled, dreadful tension leaving your body immediately upon hearing the familiar voice.

A pair of wobbly legs nearly failed you as you shot up from beneath the morbidly looming statue, having been your black marble guardian for what seemed like at least an hour. It appeared as if the chiseled Minotaur was watching your every shaky step toward Hugo who was strolling right at you with his hands leisurely resting in the pockets of a pair of suit pants that likely cost as much as your Fiat Panda.

You wiped the snot from underneath your nose, trying not to make an utterly pathetic fool out of yourself - at least not more than getting lost in a decorative labyrinth during a garden party made you already.

“I got lost!” The obvious just bubbled right out of your mouth as you swung your arms around your torso hugging yourself in a meager try to give some of the lost warmth back.

“Oh, dear.”, Hugo’s steps quickened until he’d reached you, hands snaking out of the trousers to take you by the shoulders carefully, “Matty and I figured. So good of you to wait by the statue, darling, smart move.”

“My… my cellphone.”, Your tongue was moving so fast that you tripped over your attempts of articulation immediately, “It’s…there is no signal here. ‘M so sorry. So, so sorry. Matt must be sick with worry by now. But you know, the boys, they…they all cheered for me to try the labyrinth myself and-.”

“Hey, breathe. I know. I know how they can be don’t you worry and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to try for yourself. A beautiful piece of landscaping it is.”, Hugo comforted you with words and a warm smile, “And your brother already knows I’m in here looking for you, no need for all that panic, dear.”

“I’m so sorry!” The whine simply clawed itself out your throat alongside a final trickling of tears; always wearing your heart on your sleeves, sometimes to your own fault.

“Darling, no.” Hugo’s broad yet soft palms went to the sides of your face, thumbs wiping at your under eyes, smearing an already smudged amalgamation of salty droplets and mascara even more for nearly a moment too long.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep a smirk from tugging at the corners of his lips. Little damsel in distress and her limp-wristed loser of a brother not even capable of taking care of his own sister, pathetic, truly.

“Don't. You. Worry.” Hands wandered from your puffy face back to your shoulders, Hugo pulling you in for a hug and you gladly accepted, leaning in and allowing him to wrap you up in a close embrace.

“That's so stupid…getting lost in a labyrinth. Just had to happen to- hey, hey?” Your slightly self-deprecating ramblings turned into arched brows and an inquiring tone as Hugo started walking you backwards by simply pushing against you.

You couldn’t quite figure what he was set out to do, joking, messing around with you a bit to cheer you up? Maybe. Probably, no?

“Hugo? Hey.” You tried to look at him from the side whilst letting him walk you back until your behind touched the pedestal of the towering statue.

“Say, do you trust me?” Hugo smiled as he caged you in between his arms, each palm clasping at a marbled hoof from the beast above.

“What an odd thing to ask. Of course I do-” He cut you off again.

“Because, you see, I was thinking we could stay here a little longer.” You eyed him, confusion and a slightly unwell feeling washing through you.

“Hugo?” The massive block of smooth concrete behind you made it impossible to shimmy back any further.

“That's my name, silly.” In one swift motion one hand fell from the statue, his index finger playfully booping the tip of your nose, its soft pad swiping further down to brush across hallway agape lips.

“Why?”, You mouthed against his finger after sucking in a sharp breath, “Why'd we stay here, Hugo?”

The way your eyes widened, brows knit together with that innocently questioning look on your face, so naive, nearly made his mouth water, eager to get his lips onto your skin after you'd given in to his advances. He knew how to play this game, how to play you. Hugo hadn't spent years as your fuckwit brother's tea time chap for nothing after all.

At first, you really just had been Matthew's little sister, snot-nosed little duckling always running after him with your beaming eyes, ever so curious and committed to staying attached to his hip at all times. That was until not so long ago, six months, a year maybe, Hugo, like so many times before, had watched you reading on the terrace whilst he subjected himself to Matthew. At some point, your books apparently had changed from colorful hardcovers of fairy tales and fantasy tellings to something of much more adult nature and the realization had shifted something within Hugo.

Suddenly, he'd found himself wondering if you'd ever had a boyfriend before, kissed somebody, started fingering yourself when the whole house went quiet at night and you could lay with all those dirty little sentences you'd read that day. And as those thoughts had started to roam through his mind, wild and free, Hugo developed a particular hunger that he certainly indulged and cultivated well, patiently waiting for his moment to sink his teeth into supple flesh and tear the deer.

“Have you ever kissed someone?” He pranced into the uncharted territory.

“No, but-” His hand found your chin, cradled it whilst he gazed at you with blown pupils.

“Would you like to?” Hugo pushed with precision.

“Uh, I don't know, I mean, I-” That served him more than enough to lean in, fighting with the desire to simply devour you, and press an anything but chaste kiss to your mouth.

You didn't flinch as the fruity, acidic taste of expensive Champagne swapped into your mouth right alongside his tongue and your obvious cluelessness almost made him laugh against your hardly moving lips. However, Hugo didn't mind, not at all, he enjoyed it and he'd guide you and teach you some along the way, no problem.

“How's that, hm?” He hummed into your mouth, his other hand darting out to paw at your waist, fingers creeping underneath your unzipped sweatshirt jacket immediately and feeling you up beneath the thick fabric.

“Hugo…”, You muttered in return, pulling back eventually with a thin, little strand of saliva falling from your bottom lip, “No, this, I mean, it does f-feel nice but we can't. You're Matty's best friend.”

“Yeah? And? I could be your best friend as well, no?”, Hugo teased, wandering fingertips tracing the curve of your bra - lacey thing, interesting, “Or maybe your special friend…your secret friend. Whatever you want, princess.”

He sensed the struggle within, however, it wouldn’t take much more of that he was certain.

“If you're not gonna tell him he'll never know because I won't tell him, I promise.” To shove further, he drew in again, lips nipping at the corners of your quivering mouth, dragging the discreet traces of lipstick with the tip of his tongue.

Hugo wasn't an obstacle in your space, he wasn't uncomfortable, quite the contrary to be sincere with yourself and each little ministration of his went straight down between your legs, the way his fingers toyed along the curve of your tit made you ooze through your slip embarrassingly fast; your entire body screaming for more attention whilst fighting with your sense of reason.

“I don't think this is-” Hugo shut you up right there and then, plush and puffy lips lapping at yours, practically sucking the breath for every next word out of you, the only thing sounding off into the night now being a muffled moan.

“You have to be so achy, love, reading all that filth out there on the terrace day in day out. Nobody there to help you with that, hm?” He pulled back just enough to pin you to the pedestal with a hungry stare, “Thought nobody would notice, didn't you? Yeah. Such a nasty little thing, sitting between all of us and thinking about fingers curling, skin rubbing and tongues exploring, no?”

Hugo’s lewd commentary flushed your face with the heat of embarrassment immediately.

“Oh, I struck a nerve, didn't I, princess? Let's see if I can strike something else.” His hand left your chin and wandered down south, quickly slipping along the curve of your thighs beneath your flowy skirt and right amidst them without any hesitation whatsoever, nimble fingertips working past the few layers of fabric swiftly.

“Stop…please.” Whimpering out, you shoved your heated cheeks in the crook of Hugo’s neck, fruitlessly trying to hide away from yourself as you inhaled his cologne.

“Doesn't feel like you want me to stop, sweets. So wet and needy, clinging to me like that.” His middle finger slipped right between soaked folds, parting them gently until he had himself all lubed up to glide back, drawing tight circles around your throbbing clit.

It made your legs tremble, muscles quaking in the throes of rapidly growing arousal.

“I bet it feels so good when someone else does it for you, hm? No more pillow humping, finally someone finger fucking you like you need it.” You nodded along because, god, did it feel heavenly, so unlike anything you'd been making yourself feel - better, more intense with every quick little circle.

It fogged up your senses, rendered every last thought into nothingness; rational decision-making swallowed by a thrashing tide of aching desire, making you oblivious to Hugo fumbling around with the silver buckle of his belt and only the increasingly loud metallic clanking making you snap out of it.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, we can't, we, no…” It sputtered out of your mouth as you tried to shove him away just as much as you tried to scoot back.

“Oh, c'mon, princess, I thought you trusted me.” There was no getting away from Hugo anymore, he was all up and on you.

It didn't matter that his fingers had slipped from your crotch as you'd tried to shimmy away, he just grasped at your thighs instead, shoving himself against you until you were pressed between his front and the marble bull towering along your back.

“I do, I really do, it's just…I never…” You shrugged your shoulders in a suggestive manner as Hugo’s hands cupped the undersides of your legs, working you up against the pedestal with ease.

“Hey!” You clawed at his sides to not lose balance.

“It'll be all fine, I promise, love. Come on now, slide that pretty thong to the side for me.” For a moment you just looked at each other, Hugo ready and eager to finally get inside of you whilst you went through ambivalent emotions with every heartbeat.

“Is it going to hurt?” As if Hugo would care.

“Nuh-Uh. Don't you worry, it's going to feel real good.” His eyes tracked how your fingers slipped between your bodies and underneath your skirt, cloth being tucked to the side hesitantly.

“Promi- ouw!” You bit down onto your bottom lip and you bit down hard as Hugo rolled his hips against you, rock-hard cock sliding into you without any warning.

He groaned out as you whined, feeling you clench around him in a somewhat panicked pattern. Half-lidded eyes darted back up at yours, his pupils blown to the point where they were indistinguishable from the blackened night sky above.

“Fuck, you're so warm.” Another mewl fell from your lips as he slowly bottomed out only to rut into you anew, the sound of skin slapping against skin bouncing off the hedges.

You felt full, stuffed to the brim and breaking point; a dull kind of pain pulsing through your body. There wasn't much pleasurable about this at all, not as he started thrusting his hips against your propped-up ass in a faster pace and not as his hot lips latched on to the sensitive skin of your throat. He hit spots on your inside that caused shivers to run down along the curve of your spine, nipples pebbling up against the fabric of your bra.

“Ouw..” You returned to sniffling into the crook of his neck, letting it all just happen for there was no way out of this, not anymore.

“You're being so good for me, princess.” The praise, accompanied by a little peck to your jaw, was void and hollow to you as you breathed through the only slowly subsiding thrum of pain. The air hitched in the far back of your throat with every thrust, legs wrapping around Hugo’s waist to help stay afloat.

You felt every little ridge and each protruding vein following the girth of his cock up to the thick tip drilling inside of you, in and out and inside again, pressing into your walls hard enough that you'd feel the shape of him long after he'd let go of you again.

“ ‘s-somuch, Hugo…” Thick, hot droplets pricked at your lower lash line and you tried blinking them away.

“I know, love, I know, but you're being so so good right now.” His voice grew coarse and rough as he slammed you into the pedestal with every rut of his pelvis.

Fighting with your body to push through, your nails dug into his shoulders, tearing and pulling at the expensive fabric of his button-up shirt. You couldn’t care less about being good for him, you needed it to be good for you and you weren’t exactly sure about the status of that. The stark contrast almost gave you whiplash; from endlessly pleasurable, nimble fingers to a blood-filled, pulsing cock that tore you open from the inside.

“Ah, fuck…shit…” Hugo was trying to pull away, unable to do so with your legs tightly locked behind his back and you didn’t catch up fast enough.

Instead of pulling himself out of you as intended, Hugo buried himself to the hilt, his whole body pressing against you as he emptied himself inside of you with a heavy groan rumbling through his chest, the tip of his nose brushing against your neck in tender strokes; the starved animal fed enough for him to kiss and lick it all better now.

“Hey, princess, love, if you cling onto me like that we can't walk back to the party.” Still holding on to his shoulders, you unfurled your legs and let them slip back to the grass beneath again.

Hugo immediately took a step back, leaving you empty with a pinkish concoction of blood, cum and slick running down the insides of your thighs as he tucked himself away again.

“Alright, let's fix you up and get back, shall we?” You stared at him with a blank expression on your face whilst watching him pull a silken cloth from his west and wipe you off.

“There, little keepsake.”, He handed you the soiled silk square with a grin and ran his hand through his hair, “That's going to be our secret now.”

[the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake]

Just A Kid Next Door - Chapter 6

Bruce is finally back from being stuck in the time stream. Tim managed to save Batman and his loved ones. Now it is time for Tim to go home and rest. But the problem is that, Tim has no home. Or that's what he thinks so.

This will be a multichapter fic on how did Tim reconcile with his family. It will be full of angst, family feels and family shenanigans.

Masterlist

Here in the link to read the story in ao3.

-------------------------------CHAPTER 6---------------------------------

This is not unusual to Tim. To be honest Tim has found himself in these kind of situations many times than considered healthy. Especially in the last couple of months. If the last few months have taught him something, it was definitely how to handle the mess you’ve got yourself in. Alone.

Tim lets out a dry laugh, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth.

Slamming his Bo staff upright on the ground, he balanced his whole weight on it while launching his legs on the goon’s face.

It has been a week since Bruce’s return and Tim was trying his best to distract himself by drowning himself in cases.

Tim had a whole army of big bulky thugs to take down. And he considered himself doing a good job as he had already taken down most of them on his own.

When he found the location of warehouse where the shipment of the newly introduced drug in Gotham (Not Surprising) was taking place, he made a grave mistake by storming to the warehouse without any actual plan, which was very much unlike himself. Because Tim had plans for everything.

Hell, he even had a contingency plan written down in case the whole justice league turn into ducks. Which he made when he was running on only two hours of sleep. And was in middle of a desert for some covert mission. And he was not proud of it.

Tim cringed thinking about it now. It sounded like a good plan at that time.

Tim blocked another punch and kicked the man’s chest. A man wearing red mask, almost covering his entire face except for his eyes, snarled and made his way to Tim with a huge glass shard in his hand which Tim assumed probably belonged to the window which he had broken to get inside the warehouse.

“You don’t know whom you are fighting, Dr. Mid-Nite.” The man said, running towards Tim.

“Jesus Christ man, for the last time, I am not Dr.Mid-Nite. How many times do I have to make myself clear?”

Tim effortlessly disarmed the man with his Bo staff and drove his fist into the man’s nose, hard. The man stumbled, head flying as his eyes locked on the roof of the warehouse, unconscious.

“Oops, sorry. That was for not getting my name right.”

“Well that was easy” Tim thought, turning away and walking towards the many boxes stocked neatly at the other end of the warehouse. He wanted to take some the sample of those drugs with him to test it. Because Black mask just keeps coming up with new ways to drug Gotham.

Pocketing the sample in his utility belt, he heard a loud crash coming from the other end. He was not pleased with what he saw.

Standing near the pile of unconscious bodies, was another twenty-or so group of thugs.

“Umm…I’m toast”

“You made a huge mistake by coming here, Dr. Mid-Nite.” The thug standing in the front of the group said, maybe their leader.

“The real Dr.Mid-Nite is going to come and beat me up for identity theft any time soon” Tim said, getting into fighting stance. Clutching his Bo staff, he ran towards the thugs, his cape bellowing behind him.

“But you know what, I think I can take him down” Logically, Tim knew it was hard to take down all of these thugs at once, but it wasn’t impossible. After all, he took down the whole Council of Spider all by himself, when he was in his crusade to save Batman.

He swung his Bo staff at the thugs, kicking them. He then threw a smoke bomb to distract the others.

“Catch him” The leader shouted.

“Do I really look like Dr.Mid-Nite? It’s the cowl, right? I knew I should have ditched the cowl as soon as I came back to Gotham. The domino was so much better” Tim swung a powerful right to the Thug he met halfway. The large man punched Tim in the face. He did it with so much force that Tim went sailing through the air for some unspecified distance. His Bo staff flying somewhere else.

Tim was sure it had left a bruise on his face. Swiftly getting back on his feet, Tim rushed towards the man. Tim knew he need to leave. Soon.

He knew it is of no use fighting these goons. He had got what he wanted, and it was time for him to leave. He has other important issues to deal with than a simple drug bust. He need to contact the GCPD to handover these men.

Just as he was about to swing his arm to punch the man, he felt a searing pain in his abdomen and something hot dripping down his thigh.

“Uh-uh”

He was stabbed. Dammit. How had he failed to see that coming? Of course the man was armed.

Tim’s legs gave out and he fell down on the floor. Getting stabbed sucked. Especially the stiches, which he have to do it himself, will restrict his movements for the next few patrols, which in turn will affect his schedule.

And his missing spleen made it a cherry on top.

Tim let out a shaky sigh. It is going to be a long night.

Tim’s eyes started welling up, making his vision blurry. The man roughly held Tim’s hair, yanking his head backward. He brought the knife close to Tim’s neck.

Tim closed his eyes for a second, thinking of a way to escape. He had already sent a signal to the GCPD when that man was busy stabbing him. All he has to do now was buy some time.

And then he heard a loud crash in front of him. Tim opened his eyes and saw the man lying down on the floor, unconscious. Tim looked up and say a built figure, wearing blue and red suit with a large s- shield on his chest, a black leather jacket complimenting the look.

“Sup-superboy?” Tim chocked out.

“Pretty sure that the title now belongs to Jon, Rob” Kon said grinning, while holding out a hand to him.

Tim ignored the help and shakily got up on his own.

“You have your entire life to be a jerk. Why not take today off, huh?” Kon said, tutting.

“You could have called us for backup Tim, is it truly that hard?” Tim heard Cassie say, while effortlessly knocking down the other goons.

“I had the situation under my control” Tim huffed.

“You know what, I’m trying my hardest to see things from your perspective, but I just can’t get my head that far up my ass” Cassie said.

“Yeah man, I agree with her” Bart chimed. He was circling the leader of the gang swiftly, making him dizzy.

“So, what brings you guys to Gotham, huh? Need help with anything?”

Kon let out a long sigh.

“We came in search of you, bud. We were worried about you. You hadn’t talked to any of us for a while.”

“I’m fine. I am capable of taking care of myself” Tim sneered.

“God, Tim. We are your friends, man. Of course we always look out for you” Bart said, wiping the dust of his suit while walking towards him.

Tim had no time to reply as Bart swiftly pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Kon and Cassie joined him.

“We missed you so much, dude.”

Tim melted into the hug. Yeah, he missed his friends too. He missed Cassie’s sarcasm, Kon’s crappy jokes and Bart’s never ending appetite. Tim don’t want this moment to end. He with his friends, his small family.

Tim had met Kon only twice after he came back to life, once in Paris and the other time when Kon came to meet him in Gotham.

Tim was grappling his way towards the street of Gotham, thinking about everything that had happened in the past few days. He made assassin friends, worked for Ra’s Al Ghul, fought against the Council of Spiders, found out that Bruce was stuck in the time stream, and the list goes on.

But now, this moment, he was feeling much better. He was back in Gotham.

But this is how Tim knew he needed to see a therapist. Because he actually missed Gotham. This was his first day back in Gotham, and he already have shit ton of work to do.

Tim needed to tell Alfred and Dick about Bruce. Even though he wasn’t part of the family now, they deserved to know. Bruce was practically like a son to Alfred after all, and he was alive.

Bruce is alive.

Bart is alive

And so is-

“Your face is going to break if you keep that up…” Tim was sure he had a whiplash from turning his neck so fast, but sight which greeted him was definitely worth it.

“And honestly, your face wasn’t that great to begin with” Kon completed.

And so is Conner.

Kon just kept on rambling, as Tim was trying to process what was happening.

“Why so happy, let me guess, sale on leather?”

“You’re going to get matching chaps, is that it?”

“Tim?” Kon called out, waving his hand in front of Tim’s face.

“Hello?”

“Okay, now you’re creeping me out, will you say somethi-”

Tim cut off Kon by pulling him closer and locking him in a tight embrace. Sure he had seen Kon in Paris before, but this was the first time he was actually able to process it.

Kon is alive

Alive.

Oh my God, so is Bruce, Bar-

“Tim, buddy. If you’re trying to be all dark and grim now, it isn’t going to help”

“You’re alive.” Tim said, breaking the hug and pulling out his cowl.

“I thought we already conversed this.”

“I knew you were back, that Bart was back, but it all happened so fast that, I never, I never let it soak in.”

Kon smiled at Tim bashfully.

“I missed you too, Rob”

“And now, what are you doing in Gotham. You found something, didn’t you?” Kon asked.

“Let’s just say I’m getting there.”

“How can I help?”

“I still have couple of things to take care of, and then, I’ll be back.”

“Good. Because we miss you, man. Me, Cassie, Bart… all of us.” Kon said, his eyes showing multitude of emotions.

“If you need me, just yell. I’ll hear you.” Kon said, as he started floating, getting ready to fly.

“Thanks.”

“For what?” Kon asked, before leaving.

“For believing in me”

And Kon took his leave, soaring high along with Krypto, leaving Tim with his thoughts.

But Bart, this is the first time he is meeting Bart after he helped him take down Ra’s Al Ghul after he tried to kill Tim when he came to take over Wayne enterprises.

And he was still kinda mad at Cassie for not believing in him at first. Only a little though.

Tim winced as he was released from the hug.

“Are you okay?” Kon asked, voice laced with concern.

“I’m in pain.”

“Do you mean emotional pain or- Oh my God! That’s a lot of blood” Bart shouted, his eyes darting to Tim’s abdomen.

Shoot. Yeah, he totally forgot that he got stabbed.

“Yes. Pain”

“Oh my God, Tim. Are you crazy?” Cassie exclaimed. The last thing Tim saw was his friends’ worried faces as he fell into complete oblivion.

[silken-threads-bah]

HIHIII Can we pretty pretty please have a fictive of The Lamb (COTL) using the longer template? We'd like them to be under 18, little preferred but do whatever you feel comfortable with!

Have an AMAZING day and take care of yourselffff :3

UGH IVE BEEN TRYING NOT TO BUY THIS GAME. I might have to take this as a sign to just get it already... anyways, I hope you enjoy!!

- Eden

Name: lambert, lamb, penance

Age: 8-12

Pronouns: they/them (could also use he/him, cross/cross', fluff/fluffs, wool/wools, ae/aem)

Gender(s): agnagurin, sacrilambthing,

Orientation: n/a

Source(s): cult of the lamb

Role: lambkid (if applicable), if not then just a little

Personality: they're kind of meek at first meeting, but they warm up pretty quickly once they get to know people. They're kind of spacey and will just blurt out whatever they're thinking about even if it's entirely unrelated to the conversation at hand. They'll astonish everyone by randomly saying the most dark, morally horrible thing ever with the most innocent look on their face. Is very charismatic, people tend to "flock" to them (lamb pun.) and they can't really tell why. It's probably mostly because they're adorable. If there are other littles in the system, they might become some sort of spokesperson or leader of them. Not like in a cult, more like in one of those weird childhood friendships where there's a friend that's in charge of the whole group for some reason.

Interests: the history of religions, the crusades, my little pony, source

Extra info: they stim by tapping their hooves on the ground because they love the sound and they have a blanket made from their mother's wool that they carry with them everywhere (may even wear it like their fleece).

Likes: black and white (especially when they're next to each other, they love to look at the contrasting colors.), adventure games, knitting, chalk, autumn

Dislikes: stardew valley (no one knows why), the rain (they like it while fronting because now their wool doesn't get wet)

Emojis/signoff: 🐑,🗡,👑

Quirky/silly fact: one time they ran out of yarn for the thing they were knitting and used their own wool to make more.

Kins: Shaun the sheep (I was joking at first, but now I kind of see it), Jesus christ (not even joking, they think they're the savior)

Appearance: a sheep with black skin and white wool that stands on two legs, has short red horns, and wears a red fleece.

Faceclaim:

[thoughtportal]

Alarmed over the discovery of 215 multiracial bodies found buried in a pauper’s cemetery behind the Hinds County, Mississippi jail, Reverend Hosea Hines, senior Pastor of the Christ Tabernacle Church and the national leader of A New Day Coalition for Equity and Black America (ANCEBA), joined Attorney Ben Crump in calling for an investigation.

Some relatives of those found buried behind the jail simply thought they were missing. They object to having to pay a fee for the removal of their loved one’s remains that are needed for a proper burial.

At a press conference held on December 20 at the Stronger Hope Baptist Church in Jackson, Mississippi, Crump was joined by relatives of three of the deceased men. Each of the women held pictures of their loved ones.

Gretchen Hankins, who is white, held a picture of her son, Jonathan Hankins, 39. Mary Moore Glenn, a Black woman, held a picture of her son, Marrio Moore, 40, and Betterstem Wade held a photo of her son, Dexter Wade, 37. They were shocked to learn their relatives had been buried behind the jail.

Crump and his co-counsel, Dennis Sweet, are demanding to know why officials failed to investigate their deaths and did not try to find the next of kin, as opposed to burying them in a pauper’s grave near a dirt road by the jail work farm. Their gravesites were reportedly marked with a metal rod and a number.

“People all across America are scratching their heads in disbelief about what’s happening in Jackson, Mississippi, with this pauper’s graveyard,” said Crump.

“It went from talking about the water” that was non-existent or contaminated, “to now we’re talking about the graveyard. What is going on in Jackson, Mississippi?”

That is what Reverend Hines wants to know, as well.

In an interview with the Chicago Crusader, Hines said, “It’s unfortunate that we are living in a world that is college educated and super sophisticated as it relates to telecommunications and IT. The amount of mistakes that were made, as to individual families not being notified about the deaths, is really unbelievable.

“It really saddens my heart to know that their relatives went that long, some over a year, not knowing if their loved ones were dead or alive and then coming to the realization that they had been buried in a pauper’s grave behind a jailhouse,” Hines said. “If they had been properly notified, they would have been able to pay their proper respects.

“A lot of these things that have happened were not under the watch of Joseph Wade, the chief of the Jackson Police Department,” Hines stated. “He has instituted a new death notification policy that would give relatives information about their deaths and the cause.

“I have spoken with the chief, and he has told me he will implement policies and procedures to ensure this won’t happen again and to hold those individuals responsible for what has occurred.”

Agreeing with Attorney Crump, Hines said, “There needs to be a real call for justice” on behalf of the 215 Black, white, Hispanic and Native Americans who were buried behind the jailhouse.

Asked if he was surprised this was happening in Jackson, Mississippi, Hines said, “I am surprised that it’s happening anywhere in the U.S. We should be better than this.”

He said he does not know if the deaths of the 215 people were acts of “racism, prejudice, or bigotry.” He is also investigating the causes of their deaths.

“I give my condolences to all of the families that have been affected by this tragedy. My prayers go out and up to them, and I pray that you find the whole truth and nothing but the truth about their deaths.” Hines said he will be working to find out the truth and to give care to the grieving families.

Efforts to reach Hinds County Coroner Sharon Grisham-Stewart to determine the cause of the deaths failed. She did not respond to phone calls or emails.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Illuminated Manuscripts

“Christ Kneeling in Prayer in the Garden of Gethsemene” (c. 1475 France, Loire Valley)

Illuminated manuscripts embody the extraordinary union of beauty and knowledge.

Though the art of making them disappeared with the advent of the printing press, the most spectacular manuscripts survived the ages.

Here are 8 masterworks of medieval illumination: 🧵

1. The Morgan Crusader Bible, 13th century

Commissioned by French King Louis IX, the Morgan Crusader Bible depicts events from the Hebrew Bible set in the scenery and attire of 13th-century France — it puts a medieval twist on Old Testament stories.

Consisting of 46 folios, the manuscript displays illustrations accompanied by text written in either Latin, Persian, Arabic, or Hebrew.

The vivid colors and attention to detail make it one of the most popular illuminated manuscripts.

2. The Black Hours, 15th century

The Black Hours is a book of hours (a type of prayer book) created in Bruges, Belgium.

The style is in imitation of Wilhelm Vrelant, the most popular illuminator of the period and constructed of vellum (calfskin) that’s been dyed pitch black.

Gold and blue paint overlay the dark background to create an almost otherworldly look.

Written in silver and gold ink, the text lists the prayers to be said while depictions of Bible stories aid the reader in meditation.

3. Book of Kells, 9th century

Among the most iconic medieval manuscripts is the Book of Kells.

Created in a Columban monastery, the text is the pinnacle of early medieval calligraphy and illumination.

The graphics are a blend of insular art (the post-Roman era style of art popular in Irish monasteries) and traditional Christian iconography.

Plants, animals, Celtic knots, and biblical figures decorate the 680 page volume to tell the story of Jesus’ life.

4. Codex Argenteus, 6th century

Latin for “Silver Book,” the Codex Argenteus contains the four gospels written in Gothic, making it one of the world’s foremost sources for the now-extinct language.

The book was likely written as a gift for Ostrogothic king, Theodoric the Great.

The work is particularly striking due to its purple-stained vellum pages, metallic ink, and silver binding. Looks almost Tolkienesque…

5. Acre Bible, 13th Century

Another work commissioned by Louis IX, the Acre Bible was compiled shortly after the king’s release from captivity during the disastrous 7th crusade.

Upon returning to France, he deposited the masterwork in his newly built Sainte-Chapelle library.

It contains 19 books of the Old Testament, and its illustrations are considered masterpieces of crusader art.

6. The Aberdeen Bestiary, 12-13th century

A bestiary is essentially an encyclopedia of animals and mythical beasts.

They gained popularity throughout the Middle Ages as readers could learn about exotic animals or mythical creatures.

This one was owned by Henry VIII and features a retelling of the Genesis creation story with fantastical images of creatures both real and imagined.

7. The Very Rich Hours of the Duke of Berry, 15th century

The best surviving example of the International Gothic style of illumination, it’s one of the most lavishly designed late-medieval manuscripts and contains well over 100 illustrations.

Despite beautiful scenes covering most of its pages, the work didn’t shy away from darker imagery.

8. The Berthold Sacramentary, 13th century

Commissioned by the abbot of Weingarten Abbey, this manuscript is a form of missal called a sacramentary used by priests for liturgical services.

A sacramentary gives the priest's readings and prayers for the Mass. This one is a paragon of Romanesque art.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Christopher Mathias at HuffPost:

As Israel’s siege of Gaza raged on in March, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu made time for a meeting in Jerusalem with a delegation led by Mario Bramnick, a Florida-based pastor with close ties to former President Donald Trump who has become a leading figure in a theocratic movement dedicated to bringing forth the end of the world. Bramnick may not be a household name to many Americans, but he’s an “apostle” in the New Apostolic Reformation — meaning members believe he was anointed by God to lead and receive prophecies and is imbued with spiritual gifts, including the ability to prophesy, heal and speak in tongues. He and the NAR, a burgeoning network of charismatic evangelical churches, believe in the biblical prophecy that the return of Jews to Israel will hasten the return of Christ.

Netanyahu likely knew he was meeting with an End Times evangelical pastor: The prime minister has long been invested in currying favor with such radical American Christians. What’s unclear is if Netanyahu knew just how radical the Christians in this delegation were, and just what their beliefs about Jewish people consisted of. Bramnick is what some scholars call a “Christian supremacist,” owing to his prominent role in the NAR, which believes in the existence of the supernatural, including modern-day prophets and apostles. He sees Trump as prophesied to rule over the U.S., and wants to transform America, and then the world, into a Christian theocracy, all to hasten Christ’s return to Earth and to begin his followers’ rapture to heaven. Part of that project, per the NAR’s interpretation of scripture, is unequivocal support of Israel. While millions of American evangelical Christians have long been fervent supporters of the Jewish state because of End Times prophecies, most have been content to allow Jews to be Jews until Christ’s return, when the Lord would convert them to Christianity and allow their entrance to Heaven. This is a form of end-days theology that scholars call “premillennialism.”

But Bramnick and the wider NAR network represent a major shift in evangelical support for Israel. They are “postmillennialists”: They want Jews to convert now. “They want to turn Jews into Christians, and ever since the Crusades and earlier, that kind of Christian opposition to Judaism, that Christian desire to annihilate Judaism, has been a large part of the antisemitism Jews have faced,” said Ben Lorber, a senior researcher at Political Research Associates and author of the book “Safety Through Solidarity: Fighting Antisemitism and Winning a Just World.” “It’s very kind of unnerving to see Christian Zionist leaders who say they support Israel now, but they hold that kind of intense agenda kind of under wraps,” Lorber said. “But that’s really a large part of what’s motivating them, and it’s very disturbing.”

[...] Israel has now killed over 37,000 Palestinians, 70% of whom are women and children, in a siege that the International Court of Justice has ruled a “plausible” genocide. Netanyahu and others in his far-right government often cast criticism of this mass slaughter as antisemitic. Meanwhile, in America, leading figures in the NAR have held demonstrations at universities leveling the same accusation at pro-Palestinian students.

On May 8, a couple of hundred such Christian nationalists gathered outside the University of Southern California in Los Angeles to declare their love for Jews. It was a sometimes garish display of affection, with people waving Israeli flags and American flags and “Don’t Tread on Me” flags as a plane circled overhead trailing a banner that read: “Israel is Forever, Jewish Lives Matter.us” The always-smiling Sean Feucht, a wealthy MAGA musician and pastor with curly blond locks hanging down over a black leather jacket, looking like the final boss of American youth ministers, had organized this “United For Israel” demonstration. He strummed a guitar as he led the crowd in worship songs like “Our God Is An Awesome God,” interspersed with renditions of the U.S. and Israeli national anthems, plus chants of “U-S-A!” and “Bring them home!” — a reference to the Israeli hostages still held in Gaza by Hamas, the militant Palestinian group that on Oct. 7 killed more than 1,100 people in Israel and abducted some 250 others.

Then Feucht took hold of a megaphone to announce the next speaker: his good friend, Ché Ahn, pastor at Harvest Rock Church in Pasadena and one of the most powerful American religious figures you’ve probably never heard of. Also considered a modern-day “apostle,” Ahn heads up the Harvest International Ministry (HIM), a network of more than 25,000 churches and nonprofits in more than 65 countries.

[...] The USC demonstration came as Ahn and Feucht positioned themselves as the vanguard in the fight against antisemitism which, in their worldview, is largely synonymous with criticism of Israel. The alleged antisemites who concerned them were the pro-Palestinian students at USC — many of whom are Jewish — and at campuses across the country, who were setting up encampments to demand their schools divest from Israel over its ongoing bombardment of Gaza. Prior to his rally at USC, Feucht also led a rally against pro-Palestinian students at Columbia University. But there are many reasons to be skeptical of Christian Zionists’ claim that they are good-faith arbiters of what constitutes antisemitism, and to look warily upon their loud professions of love for Jews. After all, if Ahn, the NAR and Feucht really do love Jews, it’s a kind of love that demands that Jews ultimately abandon their faith and traditions — to be everything that they are not. It is, according to some scholars, many of whom are Jewish themselves, fundamentally antisemitic.

[...] He also counts among his friends prominent right-wing influencers with histories of antisemitism. He has called Jack Posobiec, the notorious “pizzagate” conspiracist and neo-Nazi collaborator, a “good friend”; he’s also friendly with Elijah Shaffer, who earlier this year hosted a podcast roundtable with some of America’s most virulent antisemites, laughing along as Gavin McInnes, the founder of the Proud Boys, called Jews “fucking k***s.” Shaffer allowed white supremacist Nick Fuentes to hold forth, unchallenged, as he falsely claimed Jews used to poison wells in medieval Europe. More recently, Schaffer himself said Jews have “subverted and sort of destroyed our Western civilization.” Feucht doesn’t appear to have spoken out against his friends’ antisemitism, but he’s been eager to speak out against the purported antisemitism of pro-Palestinian college kids. And he seems to be making a buck or two in doing so. [...]

An American Apostle In Jerusalem

Carter, the Fox News contributor who interviewed Feucht, was part of the small delegation that traveled to Israel this past March to meet with Netanyahu. The group, led by Bramnick, also included Tony Perkins, the anti-LGTBQ+ preacher who heads up the Family Research Council; Ellie Cohanim, who served as deputy special envoy to monitor and combat antisemitism during the Trump administration; Danielle Mor, the director of global philanthropy for Christian Friends of the Jewish Agency for Israel; and Donna Jollay, the Christian relations director at Israel365, an Orthodox Jewish group that does interfaith work with evangelical Christians. The group arrived in Israel angry that President Joe Biden had started to mildly criticize Israel’s siege of Gaza. In a hot-mic moment, Biden expressed frustration with Netanyahu, saying he and the Israeli prime minister needed to have a “come to Jesus” moment. Biden, while advocating a two-state solution for Palestine and Israel, was still refusing calls from his left to cut military aid to Israel over the staggering death toll in Gaza. But for Bramnick and his delegation, any criticism of Netanyahu amounted to heresy.

[...] The NAR’s zeal for Trump is also tied up in a theology of dominionism, Taylor said. Adherents believe it’s their duty to conquer the “seven mountains” of societal influence — family, religion, education, media, entertainment, business and government — and reshape them according to a fundamentalist Christian worldview. It’s an anti-democratic theology that was central to the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol, where many of the rioters, who sought to overturn the results of the election, believed Trump was prophesied to be president. Bramnick served on the Latino advisory board for Trump’s 2020 campaign, and before that was named a special envoy for the Trump White House’s Faith and Opportunity Initiative. In that role, Bramnick claims to have met with eight heads of state to convince them to move their countries’ embassies in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem — a move widely regarded as an anti-Palestinian provocation.

[...] “Their basic view of Palestinians is that they don’t have a view of Palestinians,” Lorber said. “Their view is very much in line with the settler colonial idea that animated Zionism — not to mention the settler colonial idea that animated the U.S. — where they see the indigenous population of the land as basically an impediment and obstacle, you know, to the fulfillment of their desire to support the settlement of the land.” Taylor agrees. He argued the evangelical vision for Palestinians is either a greater Israel in which they have no rights, or one in which they’re altogether expelled, ethnically cleansed from the land their families have lived on for generations. “Because it’s not about the people and their rights,” he told HuffPost. “It’s about fulfilling prophecy … And who cares about human rights if you’re trying to fulfill prophecy? Who cares about rights if you see Israel as a linchpin in inaugurating a global revival?” For some Christian Zionists, Israel’s siege of Gaza is a sign that the End Times might come sooner than later.

HuffPost’s Christopher Mathias takes a deep dive on Evangelical Christianity’s support for Israel based on Christian Zionist principles and End Times prophecies.

The NAR subset of Evangelical Christianity has a very aggressive postmillenialist worldview of wanting to convert Jews immediately, in contrast to the premillenialist worldview of converting Jews to Christians at the point of Christ’s arrival.

Read the full article at HuffPost.

[zenixromeave]

GARROTH SKIN REVIEW YIPPEE! 🎉 (MCD season 1)

masked (original)

Can’t blame Jess for how poorly this cross motif fits into the eventual lore, since it didn’t exist yet and she didn’t make this skin herself, it was another one that was just part of the mod. Other than that, it’s pretty nice looking and certainly gave him an iconic theme & design. I personally have some very mixed feelings on the crusader imagery present: on one hand, it brings in some unpleasant history which can sully the image of what’s meant to be a very likable character and otherwise bring up unpleasantness, but equally it does evoke strong, iconic imagery and draws on religious and historical iconography that the audience will already be familiar with, which does provide him with a strong, recognizable presence and gives the audience an automatic understanding of some aspects of who he is. The black cross on his chest probably should have been a little lighter so it could have been shaded, and the gold pieces are pretty ugly, but since the skin is mostly monochromatic, I have no complaints for the majority of the colors and shading. I’m only noticing it now, but the texture on the sides of his legs doesn’t match up with that of the front at all, which is... certainly an odd choice. He looks nice though, overall. 

( P.S. In CustomNPCs mod (not Minecraft Comes Alive, like I previously thought?), this skin was titled White_knight. Couldn’t they have picked a better name? u_u )

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masked (rebirth!!)

It’s cute that his mask emotes, but otherwise... hm. Not a huge fan.

The color of the gold is a lot better, that’s nice to see (sure took her a while.../lh), but otherwise this is just the same skin but overdone. I was really excited at first by the prospect of Rebirth as a rewrite and redesign, but realizing most of the characters just looked exactly the same but more highly rendered was disappointing, for me personally, at least. The colors in this one are actually a lot less pleasing to me, since there’s a lot more of this very light grey which wasn’t present in the original, and the shading is highly lacking despite it being a more “high quality” rendering.

And while it is cute that his mask emotes, it doesn’t match the style of the show very well, in my opinion. Garroth is generally a pretty serious and stoic character, which is greatly enhanced by the fact that no one can see his face or read his expressions. Additionally, it’s a little overly cartoonish, especially for, again, a character with a generally serious demeanor.

It is cute though, I can definitely see why the team would choose to make him more expressive this way, since lack of personality and expression can certainly be a character design flaw, rather than enhancement.

The small amount of skin showing under his helmet also lends itself to poor character design, in his specific case. Originally, the audience has absolutely no idea what this character will look like underneath his helmet, and while it’s a small detail, showing his skin still detracts from that suspense and mystery a notable amount.

Finally, there he is, still wearing a cross in a world where Jesus Christ does not exist (at least, there sure hasn’t been mention of a Minecraft Jesus,) and where he, along with most others, follow a religion with a different representative symbol. It’s a nice enough idea that the cross is specifically the crest of the Ro’meave family or O’khasis, but then it makes even less sense for him to be wearing it, as he’s keeping his identity a secret.

What a downgrade, to be honest! Rewriting a story with a more clear vision of where it will go should provide one with the ability to enhance character designs and make them fit the world they come from better, yet when given this chance, Jessica didn’t do a single thing to make his character design make more sense within her fictional world, and instead decided just to render every piece of chain on his chain mail.

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face reveal!!!

I’m blinded by affection for him. I can’t properly review this because when I look at his little face I want to explode into a million little pieces. He’s so cute. Little guy. I want to squish him and knead him like dough and

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tuxedo

Yeah, that’s historically inaccurate for sure. Whatever, I guess. It looks nice enough.

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that other armor?

I want to dribble him like a basketball & put him in a blender & throw him &

This armor is a fun change from the original, and it adds a lot to his character knowing that back in O’khasis he had designed his own armor and that it’s considered some of the best of the best. However, he is still wearing that damn cross.

I have yet to mention his sword. It’s one of the least tacky of the swords in MCD. Even though it’s definitely just supposed to be a cool fantasy sword without any particular bearing on reality, its silhouette does actually have potential both as a fantasy weapon and a more realistic one. Though it certainly isn’t exact, his blade does bear more than a passing resemblance to the Indonesian keris/kris sword, a wavy bladed weapon with spiritual and practical associations and which is historically a sign of status. These were also considered individual works of art, with each sword being highly detailed and decorated.

While it isn’t necessary, I think details like this are worthy of note and interesting to look over. I think the keris is quite a fitting blade for him.

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Jury of Nine transformation

Well, this is basically just his first armor again but without the white cape thing, but if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it! The darker colors clearly signify to the audience that he’s become more villainous and his muted skin, eyes and hair give the impression that he isn’t quite himself. It’s a little bit cliche, but there’s nothing really wrong with it. He looks good!

[jewishbarbies]

I think a lot of people believe that hitler was the first person in Europe at the time to hate Jewish people and that no other German or Austrian at the time hated Jews, that he managed to radicalise people only during his ruling, that no one hated Jews before then.

They don’t understand that people were suspicious of Jews and hateful towards Jews prior to hitler. Antisemitism in Germany and the rest of Europe did not originate from hitler, Jews have been scapegoated prior to him.

Even further back than Martin Luther.

Violent antisemitism in Germany can be said to have kicked off in earnest in the wake of the First Crusade. It only got worse with the Black Death as Jews were then accused of poisoning the wells.

Antisemitism has a long and storied history. The end of the 19th century and early 20th century showed an uptic in anti-Jewish sentiment.

The Nazis did not invent anything and there was nothing particularly special about them or Hitler. “Scientific” race theory, extreme nationalism, ethno-centrism and antisemitism were the greatest hits of the day. The Nazis were a product of their time, Hitler wasn’t some mysitcal evil genious.

Conspiracy theories about Jews have been around since antiquity. In medieval Europe handling money was seen as sinful, Jews were seen as collectively guilty for murdering Christ (despite it being the Romans) and in most cases they were forbidden from owning land. So they turned to banking and trading and other professions that Christians found sinful. When Capitalism hit, a lot of prominent Jewish families came out as winners of the new system. Lots of Jews were highly educated, progressive and supported all sorts of rebellious movements.

So by the 1900’s they were viewee both as Socialists, Communists, Anarchists, Occultists, and as people of influence and money. Both groups were viewed as agents trying to undermine the state. Following the defeat of World War 1 it was a common conspiracy theory that the German Army did not lose militarily, it was the Jewish politicians and industrial elite and socialist sympathisers who sold the country out.

Jews are very familiar with being considered “evil elites” by conspiracy theorists. It just so happens that most people are conspiracy theorists, they just don’t realise it.

yeah, the lack of education on antisemitism along with holocaust education is a big factor. I also think that the normalization of phrases like “bush did 9/11” and the lizard people shit has made people less turned off and aware of conspiracy theories and the antisemitism they lead back to. At the very least, it’s made people irresponsible with them.

[sunshinemoonrx]

I've been thinking about the original folkloric Arthur

Not a king, not a knight, but a great hunter and a humble soldier.

I'm not really an artist but I spent all yesterday filled with the urge to draw this version of the character, so here's a post that's 50/50 doodles and historiographical rambles about him.

I wanted to do scenes depicting the feats this earliest 9th-century Welsh folklore describes him doing, so first I needed a design for the guy.

Notes on my choices and historicity:

-These earliest local Arthur legends are recorded in an appendix to the Historia Brittonum (c. 830), where he is referred to as simply "Arthur miles" ("the soldier"), a protector-figure in south Wales. The name Arthur is thought to derive from the Latin "Artorius", so I've just written it here to create a consistent Latin version of the name and title. That doesn't mean it was his "real name"; there probably wasn't a specific real guy. Some have floated a 2nd-century Roman general named Lucius Artorius Castus as the "real king Arthur", but there's a 600-year gap between his life and any mention of Arthur, so that's extremely unlikely.

-The visuals are a mix of historic (he wears a tunic, a mail shirt and a cloak with an early medieval brooch) and the kind of anime boy that appeals to me personally. I can't tell you why I was so sure he had to be black-haired, it just felt right. I tried to avoid depicting him as too elite a warrior; I imagine the necklace was obtained as plunder from a raid. For his build, I wanted him to have some mass but not to look like a modern gym bro, and that crashed headfirst into my predilection for messy twinks, and I ended up drawing him (and the other characters here) with kinda "curvy anime babe" proportions, I guess, lmao

-The 10th-century Annales Cambriae say that at the battle of Badon, "Arthur carried the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ for three days and three nights on his shoulders and the Britons were the victors". This is probably referring to to a shield design, but I thought it'd be fun to interpret it as a back tattoo. The practice is attested as being practiced in the north of Britain from a 786 synod in Northumbria. The English clergy weren't fond of it and actually tattooing a cross isn't attested until the crusading era, plus from a modern perspective the vibes of a guy with just a big Christian tattoo are a bit questionable, so I decided to pair it with something else. Earlier Roman accounts of Briton tattoos mention animal shapes, and Welsh legends often depict people or their souls becoming birds (early modern Cornish folklore even held that Arthur survived in the form of a bird), so I went with a wing-pattern.

-The precursor to Excalibur, Arthur's sword Caledfwlch ("hard-cleaver", Caliburnus in Latin, Calesvol in Cornish) isn't magic yet, and his spear and dagger are given equal prominence, so I depicted it as the kind of straight sword common at the time, derived from the Roman spatha design.

-One of the two prior stories recorded in the HB is Arthur's fighting and killing his son Amr ("fab Arthur", "son of Arthur", is my translation into Welsh); I drew Amr in a half-tunic/half-dress because, again, I just kinda wanted to

The other story involves Arthur hunting the great boar Twrch Trwyth (Troit/Troynt), so that was the next thing to design:

This is very cool to see referred to this early, because the hunt of the Trwyth is the climactic set-piece of Culhwch ac Olwen (c. 1100), the most complete Arthurian tale we have from the period after the Historia Brittonum transformed him from a minor local figure into a magical warrior-hero for all the Britons and centrepiece of Welsh legend, but before Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae further began his transformation into the chivalric king popular in France and across Europe.

In Culhwch, Trwyth is a king who was turned into a boar by God as punishment for his sins, so I came up with a human design as well as a big pig design. The king in question was probably intended as a Briton, but I thought it would be fun to depict him as a Saxon, Arthur's enemies in the HB, especially as Saxon warriors often wore boar-crests on their helmets. I did one take with a mostly historic boar-helmet, and one more fantastical, almost like a boar-themed Kamen Rider helmet, as if rather than becoming an actual boar he became this more fearsome but still humanoid warrior.

I also made his sword slightly asymmetrical, to mirror the seax knives that gave the Saxons their name. Their actual main battle swords were straight, but I thought it was a fun touch for this magical tyrant.

As for the boar-form design, I like depicting monsters with sketchy outlines, like they aren't fully solid creatures of this world.

And that's how we get our first scene proper!

The legend recorded in HB says that when Cabal (Latinisation of Welsh "Cafall"), Arthur's dog, was hunting Troynt (Trwyth), he left a paw-print in a stone, which Arthur then assembled a cairn under, and if the paw-print stone is ever removed, within 24 hours it returns to the mound. (Cafall is also featured in the version of the hunt in Culhwch!)

Anyway, I can't really draw animals that aren't big scary creatures, so I didn't want to draw an actual dog. So since I'd already turned Trwyth into a guy, I figured why not just turn Cafall into a guy too? Plus, I get to draw a guy in a collar with a dog-tail and a little fangy. So win-win, really.

I also wanted to draw a version with the human Trwyth, and I figured I'd combine that with the story of Amr, and just do a page of swordfights:

"...on fatal field / we fended our lives, as the ranks clashed in battle / and the boar-crests rang..." -Beowulf

The Amr (or Amhar) story relates that Arthur built a tomb for his son, and that every time it is measured it comes up as a different length.

The fact this is such an early story is also very interesting, because one of the most famous parts of post-HRB chivalric Arthur is the killing of his son Mordred. Early Welsh references to Mordred (Medraut or Medrawd) portray him entirely positively. I do wonder if when Mordred became the more famous son of Arthur the story of Amr got folded into his, but we don't have evidence to do more than speculate.

I also now realise that my human Trwyth looks a lot like a Ringwraith, and honestly the more medieval lit I delve through the more moments of "oh that's why that bit of Tolkien is like that" I have.

Those were what I originally wanted to depict, but in doing them two more ideas occurred to me. One was depicting the Arthur of the Historia Brittonum itself (not just the pre-existing folklore it recorded), this local hero plucked into a much grander stage, cast as a pseudohistorical general leading his people against the Saxons.

This one came out very "edgy teenager on Deviantart", but fuck it, kill the part of you that cringes and be free, right:

The title comes from one of the medieval Welsh "triad" texts, each one a short line listing the "three great X of the Isle of Britain" to help bards remember. Arthur is referred to in many of them, here as one of the "Three Red Reapers of the Isle of Britain". I thought that was a good fit for his war-hero portrayal here. Also I tried moving the cross-tattoo lower down to make it sluttier.

HB's Arthur is an interesting middle ground. He's leading the Britons as a whole, but he still has one foot in his humble origins. He's named as Dux Bellorum, "battle-leader", and it's specified that the kings of the Britons were under his leadership although he was less noble than them. It's only somewhere between the grander Welsh legends that sprung up after this and the HRB that he would get upgraded to king.

For the final picture, I was inspired by a much more recent piece of Breton verse, a 19th-century gwerz (ballad) telling of Arthur arriving in Brittany (on account of being king of all Britons) to slay a dragon and getting help from Saint Efflam. The core story, though, is remarkably consistently preserved from the Vita Euflami, the original saint's life written around 1100. I was captivated in particular by the verse in the gwerz where Arthur announces himself:

Me zo roué ar Bretonet Artur an terrub lessanvet Deut aman deus a Lannion Evit tistruji ann Dragon.

I am the king of the Britons/Bretons Arthur, known as the terrible Come here from Lannion To destroy the dragon.

For one, the way the lyrics flow in the Breton just kinda goes hard, but the bombastic tone and the length of time the story was transmitted across brought a scene vividly to my mind, inspired by the persistent story of Arthur's prophesised return: Modern travellers in the Breton countryside being set upon by a dragon, only for Arthur to miraculously appear with this declaration, defeat the beast and vanish, his original task as hunter and protector fulfilled once more.

So I drew that! Once again, I like sketchy impressionistic monsters. Also, I think the people in the back are lesbians, but that's less of a conscious decision and more just what happens when you ask me to draw two people.

And that's what's been occupying my mind for the past few days! There's a couple more things I could do. Cai and Gwenhwyfar (precusors to Sir Kay and Guinivere) are characters I'd love to whip up designs for, and there's a bunch of really wild scenes in Culhwch. But that'll only be if I'm still feeling this specific creative energy.

Thanks for reading!

[nonaonann]

THE ROBINS AND THE MANY SYMBOLISMS

So, I was looking into robin symbolisms and stuff for a fic, and just, wow. The way it applies to the Robins, coincidentally or not is just, so cool to me. Like, very cool.

When the individual Robins are mentioned in relation to symbolism, they'll be colored upon first mention. Dick - Jason - Carrie - Tim - Steph - Damian - I know it's a little weird having Jason be Orange, but that man is a ginger in denial with a lot of black box dye. Plus, he would be Blood Orange, but colors are limited, and Tim would be green?, but that's Damian's so he's red for Red Robin. And then Carrie's pink cuz it's the left over and though she's a ginger, Jason takes claim of the color since he's her predecessor.

For Starters:

CONNECTIONS TO NORSE MYTH: Robins are said to be sacred to Thor because of his fondness of the color red or because of its ability to foretell the weather. (Some say Odin instead of Thor but I saw Thor more frequently.) And as such, they represent bad weather and storms.

□This fits perfectly with Gotham, a city often dreary and worn by harsh weather, also a place where the Robins most frequently fly.□

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CONNECTIONS TO CELTIC SYMBOLISM: The rebreasted birds, if killed, are said to entail injury to its murderer or damage to their property by fire.

□This tidbit of information made me think of Jason's Robin. In a way, you can think of it as Jason killing Dick's Robin, resulting in injury to his person via fire. What I mean by the death of Dick's Robin is that, even when fired by Batman, he still stays under the name Robin. It's only when Jason takes up the name, that it's fully solidified that Dick can no longer be Robin, that he has to change and experience "rebirth" and therefore transitioning into Nightwing.

And then, when Jason is revived, he blames many for his death and goes about exacting revenge and injury for the death of his Robin.□

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SYMBOLISM IN CHRISTIANITY: There are a few tales of how the robin receives its red breast here.

Upon seeing Jesus on the cross, bleeding and injured, the bird flies around, seeking a way to help. It finds a way to pull one of the thorns from Jesus's crown, but in doing so, pricks its breast and or a drop of Jesus's blood colors it instead.

□The Robins are selfless and or seek so desperately to help. They seek to help, succeeding in doing so in most cases while also bringing harm to themselves (also in most cases). This is seen primarily with the first three Robins.

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Anyway, with Dick's Robin , although he started out for revenge against Tony Zucco, he later shifts his focus to truly aiding the people of Gotham as a vigilante. He of course experiences injuries and different types of pains while doing so.

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Then, with Jason's Robin , he always wanted to help. He grew up with and around people hurt, being hurt, or hurting others. When he's Robin, he has a way to put a stop to that, though the name is what leads to his death, or the pricking of the thorn.

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Now, Tim's Robin is where this symbolism can be most applied perhaps. He becomes Robin after seeing Batman and Gotham suffer. He becomes Robin to help Batman, grieving Jason, and to give the city hope in the way Robin does. Despite all the help that he gives, of course he also experiences injuries and eventually, the almost death at the hands of Jason freshly revived. □

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A similar story as the one prior, the bird attempts and fails to pry the nails pinning Jesus to the cross, gaining a breast covered in the blood of the one it was trying to aid.

□Okay, so again, this can be pretty much applied to all the Robins in a way as they all seek to help, but sometimes are unable. Mainly, I think of Carrie Kelly's Robin here. She differs from the others in a way. She is first saved by Batman in Earth-31 and then she dresses as Robin to help him in return. If Carrie is the robin, trying to help "the savior" Jesus Christ in his sacrifice, then in a way, to her, Batman is this savior who she seeks to aid in his sacrificial crusade.□

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Another story takes place during Jesus's birth. In the stable, the fire warming both Mary and the newborn Jesus begins to die. A robin, either being called or noticing itself, fans the embers of the fire until it is strong a bright. However, in the process, the robin's breast is burned, and for its good deed, Mary blesses the bird, giving it its red chest.

□Now, this, how could I not think of Dick's Robin. Not only is his mother named Mary, but just, ahh! Mary feels blessed by her child, and in return, blesses him with the name that he uses to create a legacy, a mantle.

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If we bend canon somewhat with its vague detailing, Dick's birth, and later involvement in the Flying Graysons act, feeds the flames of the circus. It helps revive not only interest in the circus, or rather creates more interest, but he also does the same for his family's act. People are blown away by this small boy, preforming with the greats in what seems to be flight.□

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ROBINS, SPRING, AND WISHES: You can wish on a Robin if seen at the start of spring, but if he flies away before you can, misfortune is said to fall upon you.

□So, this can represent Dick and Jason's relationship. The spring here is metaphorical and instead refers to the start of Dick and Jason's relationship. Here, Dick does not wish to be a brother to Jason, he does not wish for a good relationship, bitter and angered that the name he created was taken and given away without his permission and knowing. It's later that Dick wishes to be a brother to Jason and have a good relationship, but he's too late. Jason's Robin had already flew away and misfortune has befallen both of them. Jason dies and Dick is off world for both his death and funeral.□

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ROBINS AND DEATH: Across many cultures and in many different folklore, robins are considered an omen of death. A specific mention of the two is that, if a robin taps on your window, it is a sign of death in the family.

□I know you did not read the last line and not think of Jason's Robin. The window may not be a window here, but rather Jason tapping the hubcaps or tires of the Batmobile, signifying his own eventually death as it's start of his origin, the start of him being welcomed into the Manor, the Batfamily.

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Furthermore, this also definitely applies to all the Robins, though maybe not Carrie Kelly. (I'm not familiar enough with her to know if she dies during her run as Robin)

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Them taking on the mantle of Robin is the tapping of a window and their eventually death, fake or not, and reserections in the Batfamily. Think of Dick and Crime Syndicate, Jason and the Joker, Tim and the killer drones, Steph and Black Mask, Damian and his clone.

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Another spin is that as Robin, them tapping on the Manor or Batmobile's windows, is an omen for other deaths in the family, such as Bruce or Alfred's. □

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ROBINS AND FAMILY: Robins can either depict good or bad relationships.

"When robins appear, loved ones are near."

□So, bringing it back to Dick's Robin. Dick chooses Robin as his name as a reminder of his family, of his mother who called him robin. Being Robin is, in a way, created to honor the lives his parents. The saying also more so refers to lost loved ones, which fits considering Dick' origin.

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This can be applied to the others, but I'll just expand on how it can symbolize Damian's Robin. Damian views Robin as his birth right, but his viewpoint shifts as he grows. When Damian is Robin, he is near the people he will grow to love. His brothers and sisters, his Father, his Batman (Dick), and his Batgirl (Steph).□

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Robins can also symbolize poor relationships, relationships that will turn sour, and relationships that are not meant to be. (I think this is more common in Native American culture and folklore.)

□This is another tidbit that can apply to all the Robins (though again maybe minus Carrie). They all have rocky relationships with Bruce and each other at at least one point, though for Jason this is more so after his revival.

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Dick's Robin begins rocky with Bruce as he is angry over his parents' deaths and wants to kill the murderer, a desire going against Batman's morals. Then later, the two butt heads over decisions such as Spyral and when Bruce fires Dick from being Robin. Plus, Dick's original opposition to Jason being Robin.

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Tim's Robin also has a rocky relationship with Bruce. During the beginning of his time as Robin, Bruce is angry and grieving and reluctant to accept help. The relationship is an originally forced one where Tim is giving more of himself to fix things than Bruce giving to equal it out. And then, when Dick is Batman and B is lost in time, Dick's decision to take Robin from Tim and give it to Damian turns their relationship sour. And then, Tim's near death by BOTH Jason and Damian at the start of their relationships. Plus, Tim and Steph's romantic relationship, from my knowledge, does not end on a good note or is entirely positive and healthy. Oh, and then the neglect from Janet and Jack?—Tim's bio Dad, is another example of that tidbit. Tim's Robin is an omen for himself for the many relationships he has not starting well and or turning sour at one point.

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Further expanding on Steph's Robin's relation to this, her relationship with all of the Batfamily starts off poorly (though possibly not including Alfred or Cass). Dick looks down on her, I don't think Jason is alive when she's Robin, Tim isn't exactly the best boyfriend and when Steph becomes Robin she does so as a dig at Tim apparently because she thinks he's being unfaithful, Bruce also looks down on her and eventually takes away Robin from her, and then Damian just didn't understand what a healthy relationship was or something at the beginning. Steph's Robin, like Tim, is also an omen for her own poor relationships, including her poor relationship with her Father and needing to be the support for her Mother rather than vice versa. □

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ROBINS AND FIRE: Across many cultures, myth, and folklore, robins are connected to fire, either producing it, protecting it, or stealing it. Fire is something that fights off death and provides warmth. It's symbolic of rebirth and change.

□Yeah, this also applies to all the Robins. SURPRISE!! As Robin, they all experience some sort of change, being in morals, attitudes, perspective, etcetera. Furthermore, the Robins warm Gotham with the hope they represent. They also, like fire, produce a light to fight off Batman's darkness.

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As far as rebirth goes, they don't necessarily experience this being Robin. Instead it's after they've moved on. Dick as Nightwing, a name taken from Kryptonian legend where the God is literally a God of rebirth, Jason as Red Hood when he is rebirthed (revived), and Steph when she asserts herself in her role as a vigilante of Gotham and is "rebirthed" as a person who holds confidence and self-respect.

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It's hard to say if Tim has fully been "rebirthed" as even when he takes up a new name (Red Robin), he is still holding on to the past, that much evident by the inclusion of Robin in his name. As Red Robin, Tim definitely changes, he loses some of his hero worship and smile, but I wouldn't necessarily consider this a rebirth.

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With Damian, he's like Tim in that he holds on to the past and only changes instead of being "rebirthed". He holds on to being the blood son as an attempt to keep his role in the family solidified and it's like he longs for the relationship he had with Dick's Batman with Bruce's Batman, with his Father. He does definitely change though. He becomes less snooty, more open to showing his care, and devoted to Batman's no kill rule. □

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I love symbolism and I'm not sure if my thoughts are being fully conveyed here but yeah.

When I design characters I implement a lot of symbolism or connections between the things they're originally based off and though I don't know if it's the same for the DC writers necessarily, it's a neat thought.

If you read this all, that's crazy. You deserve a reward. (Thank you for reading tho)

[kharmii]

talking about "dehumanization" but basically dehumanizing anyone who disagrees with these lunatics.

another reason they flood western countries because of the ridicously high amount of free stuff they get in these countries.

I feel like before playing the good samaritan they should fix up shit in their own countries over sending help to other countries.

being constantly pushed to help others and guilt tripping people will eventually lead to people pushing back because if you keep blaming people they will stop listening.

And to me it often feels like everyone screaming about it on the internet as well as putting flags in their bio is just virtue signalling to show "look at how good I am" to other leftists

Responses to this post and this post. BTW......why did questioninqthings put their blog on password lock?

Posting these two asks together. Yesterday, I received them hours apart, and I believe they kind of relate to each other due to a certain radical leftwing bullying culture we've been subjected to in fandom since internet began. Leftists are desperate to be seen as good people. They act as if they are the Holy Crusaders of Light, whereas the opposition are for certain demons who deserve to be crushed. Remember when they were all like, "PUNCH NAZIS!!1!!1". Actual Nazis are rare and have no impact on anything compared to the relevant terrorist groups, but the useful idiot cause head statists aren't talking about actual Nazis......

Today is Good Friday, the day when Jesus Christ suffered and died on the cross for the sins of the world, then three days later, rose from the dead. Absent the mercy of God sending His only son to die for our sins, every single human being that has ever existed and will exist is trash and deserves to burn in hell. One sin is as good as another, and without Jesus, there would be no theoretical Noah's Ark that would save a few. Nope. Every last mf-er on earth would rot.

-But in a worldly sense, some sins ARE considered worse than others. The shit-flinging anti harpies could see it like shipping identical twins on Tumblr is actually keeping me out of trouble! I could be doing worse things, like blowing my money at a casino boat, stabbing my grandmother to death for drug money, raping a child, shoving an innocent person onto the subway tracks because of their race, punching a random person in the face because of their ideology, etc....etc.... Instead, I'm just sitting here not hurting anybody by thinking twins are hot because they are identical. If someone is into twins because of the taboo of sibling incest, then that's fine too. They are also not hurting anybody in a irl way.

Leftists like to accuse white people of racism nonstop, but there's a big difference between saying something racist and doing something racist, such as slamming a person's head into the concrete because they are white. The radical left is guilty of putting out nonstop propaganda that encourages non-white people to commit violent actions against white people. Critical Race Theory has taught black people to believe white people are the cause of all their problems, so they're all riled up into gang beating and murdering whites, both in the school and on the street. There are hundreds of hours of documented attacks supporting this, even though our statist leftwing Pravda media covers it up and spews 24/7 propaganda still pushing the fallacious narrative that 'right wing groups are the greatest terror threat' even though there is little or no video evidence supporting this.

Same could be said about clowns pushing this 'white people are racist and don't humanize Palestinians' crap. Do you think this makes Arabs love us when they flood into Western world countries? Aren't nonwhite countries responsible for importing the fentanyl that is killing us by the tens and hundreds of thousands? (-But somehow it's not being considered terrorism) -Or do you think there might be hundreds of hours of video footage showing Arabs beating and murdering white people, in between receiving unlimited welfare and basically being subsidized to outbreed us, while native white people are being crushed under the burden of high taxes in socialist countries that don't give enough in return.

[gear-project]

When using the Backyard's magic, does Backyard magic always have an affect on a person's age and appearance? Because despite that Happy Chaos was corrupted from the knowledge, he definitely looks so youthful in his appearance, almost the same age as Asuka, if not younger.

Hm... now that you mention it, despite the horns and black halo, Happy Chaos is actually in peak physical condition for his age.

He certainly looked very different when he was still the "Original Sage", probably a bit older in that original appearance as well.

What we know for certain is that beings, especially "Backyard Residents" (I have to use Izuna again as the rare example here), typically get amalgamated in to what they are from the Backyard's data.

Even for Zato=ONE's case, the knowledge and data he absorbed (from the Backyard) was far beyond what he originally had as a human, based on his behavior and intelligence alone.

It's also been suggested that Asuka R. Kreutz was "nowhere near as powerful" previously until he began to study the Backyard at length. This is evident because in previous timelines, he was captured and imprisoned by the Gears themselves (meaning he couldn't have been able to put up any form of resistance against Gears, and yet now he can rival the likes of Sol and Happy Chaos with no issues).

I would also make the remark that Happy Chaos' and Asuka's mortalities were influenced by the Universal Will in some capacity, because of their long-standing conflict with one another.

The Universal Will was a body of data unaffected by time and space... so the passage of time meant nothing to it. And even becoming a physical incarnation (Ariels) seemed to not do much in terms of aging or lifespan. Ariels was basically immortal as well.

At first, you could say that Asuka sought to "keep up with the immortals" he was surrounded by, by retrograding his age and restoring his youth through genetic manipulation.

But in Asuka's case, he could only get "so far" with that method... obtaining a youthful body (and more power) to compete with other more powerful beings was the only way he could possibly continue in his current state.

Hence why Asuka absorbed the Tome of Origin in to his very being. Most likely the Tome itself (aka the Sage's Testament) even if it was something that Happy Chaos originally WROTE... was also an archive of sorts to the natural functions (Magic) of the real world... meaning it likely also bears the KEY to immortality within its pages (though that would take time to decipher).

By taking that book in to Asuka's body... Asuka basically turn his OWN body in to a body of controlled information, a walking index of what the Backyard is truly capable of.

However, unlike Asuka, Happy Chaos was "transformed" in to his physical state because he had absorbed all the Negative mental energy that created I-No and was taken inside the Universal Will's "body".

He was also likely influenced by the Universal Will's (Merciless Apocalypse's) negative emotions towards HIMSELF!

Things like the "fear of Gears" and the "knowledge of Gear Cells" are probably not entirely different in terms of what Negative Human Emotions are capable of creating within Backyard space.

I state this, because that is what created I-No in the first place: the Crusades were a grudge generated from Mankind's hatred of Gear-kind (along with the Gears' rebellion against that grudge). And all of that information is what "broke" the Original Sage and transformed him in to Happy Chaos.

I-No is literally the embodiment (detritus) of all of those desires and hatred... but moreso, it was Happy Chaos whom decided to take on that burden in her place.

So in that regard, Happy Chaos is the result of his attempt at being a true "savior" or "broken messiah" to the world.

Does that make him a God (or Anti-Christ) in absolute terms? Not exactly... and it would be folly to guess his goals and ambitions at this phase.

If Immortality was something "like" the manifestation of Mankind's "fear of Death"... then perhaps the end result is something of a glitch or mutation from within the Backyard's (now distorted) code.

That also seems to prove true of all Demihumans (Youkai): that they are the result of the contradictory nature of humans... paradoxical desires made manifest.

When a human decides to confront that paradox directly, in some way, shape, or form, they cease to be human altogether (or so it seems).

The desire to live in a better (or perfected) world, is in and of itself a great paradox as well. While somewhat justified, that's also the reason why someone like Axl Low whom existed in the distant past, still exists in this future of a world.

What makes humans "still human" is their own egos and desires and limits that come with all that... To surpass that is to surpass Humanity.

Whether by choice or by fluke, some people surpass being human...

Whether that turns them in to Heroes or Monsters, is another question entirely!