#Crown's Spies

[chaotictoon]

You should see me in a CROWN

[spiderin-space]

Salamander?? Sillymander 😩

[schwarzys-stimblog]

Agent Curt Mega stimboard with physical stims, and crown stims!

x x x

x ! x

x x x

requested by @chompisatheatrekid!

[stressedbeetle]

I finished the gay communist spy show and now I don't know what to do :((((

[letztehexe]

I’ve finally had the opportunity to watch Crown Handler 3, and it was soooooooo good.

The cliff hander was just 🤯🤯 and I don't have any idea what will happen next.

I'm going crazy, insane here. SCREEEEEEAMMMMM

[denimbex1986]

'An acclaimed director and two rising young actors headline the '2023 new movie All of Us Strangers, a supernatural drama that has already earned a bit of buzz following its screening at various fall film festivals.

Searchlight Pictures is behind All of Us Strangers, which comes from BAFTA-nominated writer/director Andrew Haigh, and features some high-quality talent on screen as well, including Andrew Scott, Paul Mescal and Claire Foy.

Find out everything you need to know about All of Us Strangers right here...

All of Us Strangers plot

Based on a novel by Taichi Yamada, Haigh wrote the script for All of Us Strangers. Here is the official synopsis for the movie:

"One night in his near-empty tower block in contemporary London, Adam has a chance encounter with a mysterious neighbor Harry, which punctures the rhythm of his everyday life. As a relationship develops between them, Adam is preoccupied with memories of the past and finds himself drawn back to the suburban town where he grew up, and the childhood home where his parents, appear to be living, just as they were on the day they died, 30 years before."...

All of Us Strangers reviews

The majority of critics who have already seen the movie are fans, with the movie having a 93% "Fresh" score on Rotten Tomatoes as of December 23. What to Watch is no different, our All of Us Strangers review describes it as "heartbreaking, but essential viewing."

Here is a quick sampling of some of the things other critics have said about the movie:

Maureen Lee Lenker, Entertainment Weekly: "All of Us Strangers will break your heart — but it just might mend it too."

Tomris Laffly, The Wrap: "A sublime masterpiece. A rumination on grief and love, Haigh's poignant and understated ghost story is one of the best films of the year."

David Rooney, The Hollywood Reporter: "Prepare to be wrecked."

All of Us Strangers cast

The leads of Adam and Harry are played by Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal, respectively.

Scott is best known for his role as the "hot priest" in Fleabag, but he has been catching people's eyes for a while now, with memorable performances in Sherlock, Oslo and Catherine Called Birdy.

Mescal is one of the biggest rising stars in recent years thanks to his work in Normal People, The Lost Daughter and Aftersun, the latter of which earned him a Best Actor Oscar nomination. All of Us Strangers is his second movie coming out in the final months of 2023, as he also stars in Foe.

Playing the ghosts of Adam's parents are Claire Foy and Jamie Bell.

Foy broke out with her as Queen Elizabeth in the first two seasons of The Crown. Since then she has gone on to star in First Man, A Very British Scandal and Women Talking.

Bell has been appearing in movies since he was a kid in Billy Elliott. Some of his more recent notable work includes Turn: Washington's Spies, Rocketman, Without Remorse and Shining Girls.

All of Us Strangers trailer

The talents of the four actors leading All of Us Strangers are on full display in the movie’s trailer...

All of Us Strangers awards

We're keeping track of all the major end-of-year nominations and awards that All of Us Strangers earns. Check out what the movie has racked up so far below:

BAFTA Film Awards

Outstanding British Film (nominee) Best Supporting Actor — Paul Mescal (nominee) Best Supporting Actress — Claire Foy (nominee) Best Director — Andrew Haigh (nominee) Best Adapted Screenplay (nominee) Best Casting (nominee)

Golden Globes

Best Performance by a Male Actor in a Motion Picture Drama — Andrew Scott (nominee)

Gotham Awards

Outstanding Lead Performance — Andrew Scott (nominee) Outstanding Supporting Performance — Claire Foy (nominee) Best Screenplay — Andrew Haigh (nominee) Best International Feature (nominee)

British Independent Film Awards

Best British Independent Film (winner) Best Director — Andrew Haigh (winner) Best Lead Performance — Andrew Scott (nominee) Best Supporting Performance — Paul Mescal (co-winner) Best Supporting Performance — Jamie Bell (nominee) Best Supporting Performance — Claire Foy (nominee) Best Screenplay — Andrew Haigh (winner) Best Casting (nominee) Best Cinematography (winner) Best Editing (winner) Best Makeup & Hair Design (nominee) Best Music Supervision (winner) Best Production Design (nominee) Best Sound (nominee)

Film Independent Spirit Awards

Best Feature (nominee) Best Director — Andrew Haigh (nominee) Best Lead Performance — Andrew Scott (nominee)

London Critics' Circle Awards

Film of the Year (nominee) Screenwriter of the Year — Andrew Haigh (nominee) Actor of the Year — Andrew Scott (nominee) Supporting Actress of the Year — Claire Foy (nominee) Supporting Actor of the Year — Paul Mescal (nominee) The Attenborough Award: British/Irish Film of the Year (nominee) British/Irish Performer of the Year — Paul Mescal (nominee) British/Irish Performer of the Year — Andrew Scott (nominee) Technical Achievement Award, Casting (nominee)

Los Angeles Film Critics Awards

Best Leading Performance — Andrew Scott (runner-up) Best Screenplay (winner) Best Editing (runner-up)

Andrew Haigh movies

British director Andrew Haigh may not be a household name with audiences, but his work has been some of the most lauded amongst cinephiles in recent years. Here is a look at his list of previous credits for feature movies:

Greek Pete (2009) Weekend (2011) 45 Years (2015) Lean on Pete (2017)

He has also directed episodes of the acclaimed TV series Looking, as well as its TV movie, and The OA.'

[archivyrep]

Power of the press, top-secret papers, and the media's obligation to "truth" in "The Post"

Daniel Ellsberg opens the safe which contains The Pentagon Papers at the beginning of the film. This is the only security stopping him from accessing the papers. Some time ago, I watched the 2017 film, The Post, a historical and political thriller film about the role of the Washington Post in publication of The Pentagon Papers. Critics were relatively positive, apart from criticizing the film’s…

[chibirisa20]

Oh my god, they were coworkers...

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ When someone tries to imitate you or take your place 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone 

(tw: general mentions of violence and intimacy, swf. Old ask suggested by the lovely @pandaquick, better late than never)

Your position in the Fatui is a much more personal and delicate matter. You are not just some high-rank advisor or soldier idling within the Zapolyarny Palace, nor can you be defined as another Fatuus. You are someone of a different echelon - a Harbinger’s beloved, safeguarded with the utmost honor conferred by Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. It is no secret your significant other would utilize a whole army to protect you, but what happens when someone, in their foolishness, forgets that?

✧ Pierro was the first to notice that someone tried to imitate you. An individual of high status endeavored to emulate your work and areas of expertise. Subsequently, this individual began to adopt aspects of your appearance, from hairstyle to clothing. However, the breaking point occurred when this foolish person attempted to purchase an identical jewelry brooch to the one you frequently wore. It was a similar piece, one gifted to you by Pierro.

Except that imitator missed one important clue - Pierro orders you custom-made silver adorned with deep-cut sapphires that would put the Tsaritsa’s crown into shame. A one of a kind piece.

This cheap attempt to imitate you and usurp your spot was what forced The Jester to abandon his silent observation. His gaze has long caught the envious glances directed towards you whenever you accompanied him on meetings, whenever he linked his arm with yours, whenever he generously kneeled beside you to put his coat over your shoulder and keep you warm from Snezhnaya’s cold - the same individual, always seething with resentment. Thus, it was time for the Director to silently act. 

He kept tabs on this person via a network of spies, gathering intel on their behavior and intentions. And with the most skilled spies raised from the House of the Hearth, it didn't take long to have a whole pile of evidence right on his desk. And with the simple snap of his fingers, he effortlessly orchestrated the apprehension and subsequent banishment of the culprit, sparing no unnecessary words. Hearsay will not be tolerated in the Fatui, but to see some lowly scum tarnish your reputation by cheap mimicry then it’ll be his responsibility to weed out. 

“Pierro, dearest, What's wrong? You seem so deep in thought.” - Your gentle murmur broke The Jester's train of thought. As he lay in bed, your head resting on his chest and his arm draped over you, he reminded himself that he was in the comfort of your love. He doesn't have to mull over the bloodied ordinances when he feels the warmth of your skin underneath the covers.

“Apologies, my divine. It seems my mind was drifting to troubling thoughts. But it no longer matters when you're here.” - Thus, he gently planted a kiss on your forehead and tucked the covers around your body which harbored marks of his devotion earlier that night.

✧ Il Capitano clutched the hilt of his sword in resolution. Something was wrong and he could see it. The Harbinger was in the middle of his morning spar with you, a regular training session where you and the Captain warm up as a routine. He stood in a defensive stance, his movements fluid yet measured as his sword received blow after blow from your weapon. You, on the other hand, moved like a silent tempest, your strikes precise yet frustratingly urgent.

It was unlike you to be so unsteady, noted Capitano to himself, especially when fighting. Despite the unspoken patience, an undercurrent of concealed despondency and anger laced your body language. 

“Alright, my dear, I can feel your unease. What troubles your heart?” 

You shook your head, panting as you almost faltered. You insisted on continuing the training session, but it was clear your brave facade was almost crumbling. 

“It would be foolish to continue. And I care about your well-being. Please, confide in me, my beloved.”

You tried, you really did. But before you know it, your lips pursed into a thin line and a flood of tears escaped the moment you shakily lowered your weapon. Now the Captain was on full alert, rushing towards you and gently supporting you before you could hide your tearful face in shame. With an arm around your trembling form and much persuasion - you relented and shared the source of your frustration. A newly enlisted soldier had undergone thorough training under the tutelage of Il Capitano, and their impressive advancement was unmistakably evident in their unwavering dedication. However, this individual began to devote more time to the Captain, delving into military intelligence and climbing the ranks. You genuinely felt joy for the new recruit, truly. Yet in timid humiliation, you had to confess you felt obsolete as if your power alone wasn’t enough for a harbinger of his caliber and ranks.

“Ah, my dear, you are far from weak. My time with the trainees is merely a duty, a part of my job as the 1st Harbinger. But when it comes to you, my dear, your might and wisdom are incomparable. You don’t deserve my ranks, you deserve my life laid before you.”

But whatever gentle words of affection were coming out of the Captain, your next words of truth made him halt at once. “... At least, that’s what the recruit told me when we spoke. That I'm weak.” 

“...What did you say?” 

The gentle armored hand on your shoulder now tightened in restrained anger, fury flaring within his chest. Capitano now understood: your tears, your sudden insecurity, your doubt, your silence… It wasn’t coincidental. This recruit who was so conveniently rising in the ranks made sure to aim not just for the Harbinger. Specifically, you; to sow self-doubt onto you and hinder your precious relationship. Someone was deliberately bullying you.

You looked up at Capitano’s dreadful silence, asking him what was wrong.

“It… seems, my dear, someone has crossed an unforgivable line. One that would cost them their life dearly. And I am to blame for not noticing when harm and doubt came your way. I must amend this transgression for your forgiveness.”

You blinked in response, not having time to comprehend the severity of his words; It’s hard to respond when your beloved suddenly kneels and bows like a knight on duty. In the end, Capitano ushered you to take a day off and let your mind rest easy.

The next day, Capitano returned home early but was eerily silent once more. He stayed with you the whole day, like a hawk overlooking his nest, his arms crossed but his touch gentle. Although he claimed nothing was wrong, you received news that certain recruits were gone, and any upcoming soldiers that would come into his care would receive even stricter training from now on. That day, you wondered why some Fatui soldiers feared talking to you. Not to mention the armor around Capitano’s knuckles seemed faintly red-tinted.

The Fatui organization was a constant battle of powers and ranks. But to climb the ladder and meddle with the life of The Captain was a personal offense, one that would result in quick and unapologetic bloodshed. Nevertheless, he made sure to remind his soldiers about that. 

✧ When one of the folks working under Il Dottore as a lab analyst approached you, you didn’t expect them to call you names so suddenly. You stood there, confused and apprehensive at the sudden barrage of insults from the stranger. But they explained:

“You don’t do anything when helping during research, you know! I don’t even know how The 2nd tolerates you when you’re this useless. I’ll tell you what, quit your special-treatment act, and don’t come back to the lab. The Doctor is better off with someone of his level of intellect.”

You didn’t fight or defend yourself, you didn’t even insult the assistant. Instead, you smiled simply  - “Very well, I won’t. Good luck.”

That day, you turned and left. The frustrated lab analyst was left in confusion but thought they succeeded in eliminating the only obstacle left to get closer to the elusive yet powerful Harbinger. After all, what the hell do you even do at his lab? You exchange a few words with Dottore, maybe sporadically point at what to do, and remain seated in the back, resting as if you were the Tsaritsa herself. The audacity. How come Il Dottore never kicked you out?

Well, it didn't take long for this person to find out.

The next day, naturally, Dottore couldn’t find you when he proceeded with work. You were neither at his study, nor at the lab, nor at your favorite corner of the library. It was barely noon, and receiving your warm greetings was his routine. And the Doctor always follows the agenda.

“Where are they?” 

His question was brief but pointed, and his subordinates knew exactly who he was referring to. They could sense the tension in his voice. The only individual privy to the reason for your absence smirked smugly and responded.

“Hmph. It seems they decided not to come, Lord Harbinger Dottore.”

That was their first mistake because The Doctor caught on to the haughty smirk coming from his new analyst.

“And you know so certainly how?” - he quickly gestured to a nearby Fatui servant with a flick of his wrist. “Send in servants to check in on my behalf. I wasn’t informed. If my darling is feeling tired or unwell, bring their preferred refreshment immediately, and ensure it is warm.”

However, this displeased the new lab assistant, as even while you were away, Dottore was still dotting on you as if it was his second nature to do so while he was busy with work. Thus, they cleared their throat and spoke up:

“They… barely accomplished anything in your presence, doctor. So I advised them to leave, to which they agreed. Pretty straightforward, s-sir.” 

“Oh? Did you, now” - A burning rage, like never before, flared up within Il Dottore. With clenched teeth and a rigid jaw, his voice oozed with venom. But any seasoned lackey working under Dottore knew that this was the calm before the storm. Because soon, an echo of shattering vials and slammed objects would ring out from the laboratory. And in your absence, nothing would prevent the doctor from showing a bit of despotism. 

Much later that evening, after everything was set and done, the servants informed him of your whereabouts. Il Dottore briskly made his way through the Zapolyarny Palace to find you. Spotting you tucked away in a secluded nook of the palace, he hastened over, anxious to ensure your well-being, fearing you might’ve withdrawn due to the influence of some blabbering lowlife. 

“Dear! There you are… No one has the right to speak to you like that ever. Are you alright? My dearest, why did you not tell me immediately?! I would’ve-”

Dottore’s frustrated rambles come to a halt when you place a finger on his lips to shush him. You didn’t look despaired, in fact, you looked calm - “Zandik? Did you have another tantrum in your lab while I was absent?”

The doctor gulped, remembering his place. Calming his senses, he placed his hands on your waist and ushered you closer to his arms.

“... Perhaps. But I had to. How could I be certain that no one had harmed you? Why did you comply with that impudent fool? You should’ve gone to me first.”

“Well, it was unpleasant to hear the insults, sure. But…" - you glanced apologetically and a knowing smile returned to your lips. "I knew you'd find out and deal with the issue very quickly." 

✧ You and Pantalone were an odd couple. You didn't hail from a rich background, nor were you well-versed in the art of business and finance. You were more proficient in adventuring, your travels taking you to all sorts of journeys and commissions, a polar opposite from your beloved Pantalone. This led to raised eyebrows among the aristocrats of Snezhnaya. How can the richest man of Teyvat, who lives and works in prestige, be associated with such a simple person as you? For some, this gave the impression that they had a better chance of winning him over.

Thus, once upon a night, Pantalone was invited to a luxurious soirée. Here he was, clad in his finest suit, silver rings complementing his equally expensive optics. But to the Regrator, the jewelry adorning him was the least of his concerns - because you were the most precious gem in this gala. You accompanied him, although reluctantly, feeling out of place amidst the grand assembly of extravagant guests and the languid orchestra.

“Pantalone, do we have to…? I know you said this is not a business party, but there are so many guests already lining up to talk to you.” 

“Oh do not fret, my sweet. Evening galas like these are where the real negotiation and connections entail. But I know the details bore you, so I promise we won't stick here for too long. Besides, I get to introduce you as my one and only!”

That's exactly what you were afraid of. As a company of some esteemed noble ladies adorning elegant gowns, you had difficulties matching Pantalone’s polite smile. Overwhelmed by the scrutinizing gazes of some guests, you politely excused yourself to the bathroom. Pantalone was concerned, thinking of following you, but that was exactly what the guests wanted. 

You spent a long while by the hallway alone, trying to stabilize your breathing. The muttering of guests enjoying drinks and strolling was faint, but you could hear some people nearby:

“How can the 9th be with someone like them…? Surely it’s a joke.”

“A charming, rich man like him, and he can have anyone he desires. Yet he wastes his time on a simpleton?”

“Someone was definitely in it for the Mora, maybe he hasn’t seen real class. Quick, let’s go talk to him while he is alone.”

You stood with your back to a wall, and for the first time, uncertainty crept in. With fists clenched by your side, you reprimanded yourself that you are not alone. You came here with your significant other - and he, above all else, knows that gossip has no place in your shared private life. Hence, gathering up your courage, you raise your head high and strode back into the gala.

Pantalone, unfortunately yet expectedly, was surrounded by the same foul-mouthed nobles who wished to impress him. They prattled on about his financial success, while ladies fanned their folding fans and stood too close for his comfort. While they humored him, The Regrator cast hurried glances around the gala in search of you. Where are you?

“Lord Harbinger, may we offer you more champagne? I am sure this expensive bottle is up to your taste.”

The 9th attempted to hide his frown at the woman's tone, his stomach unwilling to ingest any drink some excessively elaborate name. “No thank you, I’d rather decline. I am waiting for my dear. I promised her a dance later this evening.”

“Oh, please sir, I insist. The night is young and there is plenty more for-” 

Before the woman could continue, your voice cut through the air; calm, yet unmistakably firm. “He said no. Simple enough to understand.”  

A hush fell over the gathered guests, the weight of your words settling like a sudden gust. Only Pantalone beamed with a genuine smile. “Ah, dear! There you are,”. The Harbinger was about to step back towards you, when the same lady suddenly blocked his path, her back facing him while her tone edged with defiance.

“I beg your pardon, but I’m afraid the question is directed towards Lord Harbinger Pantalone. I am sure you wouldn't know the pleasure of tasting a 500,000 Mora champagne from Fontaine.”

You recognized the snark in her tone directed towards you, and you couldn’t deny the anxiety twisting in your gut as eyes narrowed in your direction. However, with a shake of your head, you reminded yourself who you truly are and simply said: “Sheesh, lady, you spend that much on a drink that tastes worse than sparkling water? To each their own, I presume”

Her smile vanished. The guests stared in stunned silence, but it was Pantalone’s genuine laughter that pierced the tension. The sound was rich and real—because only he knew how adept you were at humbling an overconfident aristocrat with a dose of blunt truth. That’s how Pantalone managed to push through the crowd and circle his arm back around your waist, leaving the astonished onlookers behind.

“Ah dear, you’re a savior. I apologize I dragged us into this unpleasant company…” - he confined to you apologetically as you two walked away. “You always knew how to be sincere in your honest way.”

“It’s not like I meant to pick up a fight…" - you sighed. "I simply couldn't bear the humiliation, Pantalone. I'm aware that some people give me strange looks when I'm with you. They regard me as if I'm some peasant standing next to a powerful Fatui harbinger. That I'm nothing. That's why I couldn’t just hide, I had to step up to defend myself.”

“Oh, darling… My sweet, precious darling.” - The two of you left the manor that hosted the soiree, the chill night breeze muting the faint sound of guests and replacing it with a symphony of cricket noise from the garden nearby. Pantalone's fingers intertwined with yours.

"You are not just 'nothing' - you're my everything. You did not come from riches, and neither did I. You of all people know that. Would I really hold respect for some rich fool who didn't know an ounce of hardship when Mora was all they had since birth? No, dear, I wouldn't."

With a tender hand, he rested his palm on your waist, gently guiding you along the cobblestone path as if leading you into a slow waltz by garden roses in the night.

"Besides, you should never be ashamed to seek out my help. Although I must admit... Your tone earlier - oh my. Use it on me more often, darling. I wouldn't mind." 

[probablybadrpgideas]

So, the way I see it, there are 5 types of lore in your game.

There's what you might call basic lore, which is just normal information players need to know about the world - elves exist, we're on a terraformed Mars, people get powers thanks to aliens. This tends to not be that interesting, it's just basic stuff. No-one hugely cares about them.

Then there's pragmatic lore, which is lore that's mostly there to determine what people can or can't do. "The lich's phylactery is the kings crown" or "the state has spies everywhere". This is also usually fairly boring. Related is narrative lore, which is things like "we have high tensions with the klingon empire" or "the vampires are massing under one ruler" - lore that is intended to set up a plot. This is only interesting dependent on the plot its setting up happens, otherwise its just pointless.

Then there's awesome lore, which is thing like "this land was founded by eternal dragons!" or "magic is drawn from Lucifer's chains!". Lore for the sake of lore, big setpeices and cool reveals and such like. And they can be interesting, but they can also be really annoying if the players don't find them as cool as the GM does.

Which is why I advocate the fifth kind.

Shitty bullshit lore.

Shitty bullshit lore is things like "Elven woman love children's toys. They're Lego Lasses" or "Oh, gold pieces detonate if you have more then ten in your pocket at once, did no-one mention that?". It's lore whose function is designed to grind the story to a halt while your players beat you to death with hammers. It's lore as an active weapon to use against the rest of your game group.

You should put as much as it in your game as possible.

[sepiabandensis]

wait a minute wait a minute wait a minute

*i appear for a second to present this excitedly and then i disappear :3*

but i just wanted to show my love and affection for surrogate, specifically sunnyparks for a quick sec bc i love them soso muchhh i dont even knowww grrrr they make me go feral and the series is written SO WELL AND IM JUST!!!!!!

(yk the drill: click pic for better quality, also yes ik its kinda pixelated)

so i made this lil tarot card for them!!!!!!!! info about the card and also the flower crown below:

Strength:

inner strength

determination

power

underlying patience & inner calm

composure & maturity

perseverance

„Strength is about knowing you can endure life‘s obstacles“

„You are committed to what you need to do, and you go about it in a way that shows your composure & maturity“

„The Strength card encourages you to find the power within yourself to persevere“

„Approach your situation from a place of forgiveness, love and compassion“

(^source: biddytarot.com)

Flower Crown:

Chamomile: Patience in adversity

Yellow tulip: Sunshine in your smile

Morning glory: Affection

Baby‘s breath: Everlasting love

(^source: god i wish i could find the link i used again bc all sites have different meanings :(((( )

[lazyjellyfishcreation]

batman AU where everything is the same, exept that the Al Ghuls are the official royal family of the soverain city state of Nanda Parbat.

Like, its a very small country, but a powerful one and absolutely fuckall is known about their royal family, or the nation itself bc it's impossible to send spies inside without never hearing from them again. Nobody, exept for immidiate family even realizes that Damian is an actual crown prince of an actual country.

Like, just, him, on twitter. and then someone makes a joke about him and the way he is so overly formal in public. And Damian is like, 'yeah, I'm representing my whole country here, I'm the crown prince of my nation', and the person on twitter is like...

'Wat?'

And then Dick comes in the comments like. 'Look up the royal liniage of Nanda Parbat before you embarras yourself, I am begging you.' que a small twitter freakout bc holy shit, the youngest Wayne kid is actual fucking royalty, also, apparently Brucie Wayne fucked a princess, what's up with that?

the consequences this would have. Imagine this. They're at a gala, and IDK Black Mask shows up to rob/kidnap/kill them. The hired security never stood a chance. Bruce is there and is already making plans to slip out, and appear as batman.

interestingly enough, Damian is not making similar plans.

Damian just waits.

No more then two seconds later, at least 12 shadows crash trough the roof and absolutely massacre everyone there. No mercy, just murder, before making a protective ring around Damian, who is still completely cool and composed.

The cops try and make a stink about the 2 dozen dead henchmen and the dead Black Mask, but Crown Prince Damian just calmly walks over and tells commissioner Gordon that these were his body guards, and are therefore allowed to do these things if they judge it to be in favor of the crown prince's safety.

Nobody can really argue with that.

Two days later, at school, there are some upperclassmen who are being bitches, and are like. 'Where are your bodyguards now?'

'Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they're not here.'

And a red dot appears on the boys forehead.

I just think it would be really funny if Damian Al Ghul was a genuine prince, in an official, international way. PS.

Even better if the Al Ghul's adopt Jason along the way, and Jason just, straight up also becomes a prince. He's not blood related tho, so he's still in line behind Damian, even though he is the oldest.

That would be insanity. After the Black mask fiasco, Jason just orders the shadows around like. 'okay, after we're done here, escort the crown prince to the secure location.' or whatever.

Someone films it. It goes viral.

People are like; 'what the fuck, why can you order them around like that.'

And Jason is like; 'I am the second prince, therefore, by tradition, the General. The Nanda Parbat fighting forces are under my command.'

and all of twitter is like; ????????

Do you see my vision here???

[crimethinc]

In response to the highest court in United Kingdom claiming the right to define others' gender for them, we recall the words of a famous French anarchist:

"To be gendered is to be kept in sight, inspected, spied upon, directed, law-driven, numbered, & enrolled, indoctrinated, preached at, controlled, estimated, valued, censured, commanded, by creatures who have neither the right, nor the wisdom, nor the virtue to do so...

"To be gendered is to be at every operation, at every transaction, noted, registered, enrolled, taxed, stamped, measured, numbered, assessed, licensed, authorized, admonished, forbidden, reformed, corrected, punished. It is, under the pretext of public utility, and in the name of the general interest, to be ransomed, exploited, monopolized, extorted, squeezed, mystified, robbed; then, at the slightest resistance, the first word of complaint, to be repressed, fined, despised, harassed, tracked, abused, clubbed, disarmed, choked, imprisoned, judged, condemned, shot, deported, sacrificed, sold, betrayed; and, to crown all, mocked, ridiculed, outraged, dishonored.

"That is gender; that is its justice; that is its morality."

—Pierre-Joseph Proudhon in drag

Against all states, judges, laws and rights—for freedom and anarchy!

[mellowyellow236]

How would the TWST boys act when they’re jealous?

This is Diasomnia's section- Link to Heartslabyul. All characters are meant to be interpreted as romantic. The reader is gender-neutral. There may be mild spoilers as to who overblots and other facts. Some of them might have Yandere tendencies, though nothing graphic or descriptive and always very mild, they’ll be marked with a ‘Y’ if they do. Mainly because sometimes the boys are calm and talk through their feelings… And sometimes they go down possessive insecurity-included spirals. If anyone has anything to add or any questions, please leave a reblog or comment! Requests are open if anyone wants. 

Malleus Draconia - 

Malleus gets jealous very, very easily. He loves you, obviously, but he’s a dragon. You’re a part of his horde. And just like his gold and jewels and artifacts, he’s not willing to let you be stolen away from him, in any way. 

He desires you. You’re his crown jewel, a shining star, the only light in the darkness. His entire life, his one true friend and lover. And he knows- He hates it so much- But he knows that you’ll leave him one day. He will outlive you. You will leave him. So do whatever it is you need to punish him for acting out, but he’ll be the one in a casket before he gives up your meager time to anyone else. 

He’s in love, and you couldn’t possibly deny him, could you? Please don’t. He knows that you have your friends, that he can’t be your only. But don’t deny him the right to love you in whatever way will make them leave- If they are intimidated by your love, let it happen. Let it happen. Let them leave you, Malleus never will.

Lilia Vanrouge - 

Hey, Beastie… Who are ya with there? A friend? Oh, how cute! You think that he’s going to get jealous, don’t you? Well, guess what? Lilia isn’t in the slightest! Why, you’re so silly, Beastie! 

What? That wasn’t an attempt at making Lilia jealous? You’re telling him that man right there honestly likes you. You? Why, no, you’re not the undesirable one. You’re beautiful in every way. But that’s Lilia’s job- To make you feel special, to make you feel good, to make you feel loved- And that man thinks he can replace him in it. He thinks he could do better than Lilia could. 

How dare he. Lilia will whisk you off your feet and away at the drop of a hat. He’s an old Fae who never believed he could feel something as simple as jealousy for a human but now look at him. Look at him craving you, look at him loving you, look at him holding you close, so close, until you leave him the same way his other lovers did. But please. Look at him. 

Silver “Vanrouge” - (I am sorry Silver fans, the boy did not want to be written in Headcanon form)

Silver was stretching in the back of the gym as he spied you walking in. It wasn’t odd for you to be there, of course, you would often come in and say hello to him. He expected you to do the same that day, so he paid no mind as you talked to another student first. You shared your last class of the day with him, no? So it wasn’t weird. 

But then another student comes up and joins your conversation. You’re popular- You deserve to be popular- So Silver still isn’t shocked. You are allowed to have more friends than him and a large amount of friends and fun activities is a sign of healthy living. 

It isn’t until you’ve spent half the period and Silver still hasn’t gotten onto his broom as he waits for you to come over that he takes matters into his own hands. He easily walks up to you, putting a hand on your shoulder, and as you push into him he easily melts back into you, all of his jealousy pouring away as your attention has returned to its rightful place. 

Sebek Zigvolt - 

Sebek doesn’t recognize that he’s jealous, no matter how obvious it is. He’s only caring for you because he has to. You are merely a silly little human, much weaker than a half-fae like him. And then you go off with a different human! You two together could never compare to him, so why is it that you’re not by his side? 

Human! How dare you go off without Sebek there, you could be hurt! While he might not care for you at all, you are liked by the great Wakasama, and thus you must be protected for the sake of his lord’s honor. If Sebek’s weakness made Malleus cry, what could ever become of him? How can you not see that? 

Oh, you were with Malleus…? But… Sebek still needs to protect his lord, even if you are not there! He can defend himself from any magical threats, but he… might… be hurt by you and your weak human feelings! How would you be able to hurt Wakasama…? Shut up, human! Your mind simply cannot comprehend the horrors that he must plan for as his lord’s future guard!

[stressedbeetle]

since Samuel West plays Anthony Blunt in both cambridge spies and the crown I now consider them both to take place in the same historical fiction universe

[fieldofdaisiies]

Shadows of Dawn

"During Amarantha’s reign, she would delight in ripping out the feathers of Peregryn she was displeased with - one by one. She once made a dress out of the feathers."

Stripped of your wings so Amarantha could make a dress out of the feathers. Stripped of your wings so Amarantha could make a dress out of the feathers. Stripped of your wings so Amarantha could make a dress out of the feathers. Stripped of your wings so …

>>>>>>>>>>

A groan slips through Azriel’s lips as he rolls back his shoulders, trying to ease the tension between his shoulder blades. But it won’t go away. Even as he lifts a hand to his back, fingers pressing into the skin, searching for the source of the pain. But it lingers, won’t fade—painful and unrelenting.

His brows furrow. He hasn’t been on a mission or flown in a while, there shouldn’t be any wounds or any tension in his back. He has no idea where it suddenly comes from. He had a restless night… 

His wings twitch as his hand drifts lower, fingers brushing the juncture where they are connected to his back. That’s where the pain is coming from. Unease coils in his stomach. It doesn’t make sense. His wings themselves don’t ache—only the point where they are attached to his back.

It could be the ghost of an old wound. But why resurface now? Out of the blue? And so suddenly?

He clenches his jaw, and gives his head a shake to clear his thoughts. Maybe it’s just in his mind. Maybe it’s nothing. But his shadows—slithering closer, curling protectively around him—seem to sense something else. Seem to know that something isn’t quite right.

Before he can dwell on it further, the door opens and Rhysand strides into his office, moving past the shadowsinger and toward his desk. Cassian follows, claiming the seat beside Azriel. The general glances at him, sharp-eyed, his expression partly worried, partly quizzical. Rhys always knows everything….knows when one of his closest friends is doing well.

Azriel brushes it off with a shake of his head. “I’m fine.” He doesn’t want his brothers to worry over this. Never. Cassian has enough on his plate with readying the Illyrian soldiers for a potential war. And Rhysand too with everything that is going on. 

He doesn’t want to answer any questions about his well-being, so instead he addresses the High Lord and says,. “You called us here, Rhys.”

“Thesan has offered his palace for another meeting for the High Lords of Prythian. Everyone, including our newly crowned High Lord of Autumn, as well as Tamlin, has agreed to attend.” Slowly, Rhys bows his head. “Due to some circumstances, we’ll be leaving for the meeting in two days. Until then, Cass—” he shifts his gaze, “you’ll prepare everything in Illyria. And you, Az—” he pauses for a second. “Send more of your spies to the continent. We need every scrap of information we can get. Everything there is to know.”

Azriel nods but immediately regrets it. A sharp jolt of pain blazes down his spine, sudden and excruciating. Fucking hell. His jaw tightens as he forces his eyes closed for a small moment, steadying himself.

He needs Madja to check his wings. Now. He can’t waste any more time. But it will have to be in secret.

For now, he shoves his discomfort away, and tries to keep the cool and well-practised nonchalance in place. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Esren‘s voice is a distant murmur, seemingly miles away, yet you know he is close. Right beside you. His hand grips your shoulder, shaking you, but the pain is too overwhelming for you to respond. The rush of blood in your ears drowns out his words, making it impossible for you to understand what he is saying. 

You keep your eyes closed, as your body feels like it's engulfed in flames, dissolving into an unending sea of pain.

When it happened there was nothing but pain. 

Excruciating. Terrible pain. 

It burned, your back was torn apart and then. Then there was nothing. Your whole body entered a state of utter numbness. A sort of numbness that has never really vanished. Sometimes you feel like your body was frozen that day. That day she took your wings. That day she took a part of your body. By taking your wings she took part of your identity, part of what made you you, she took what was once yours and can never come back.

The memories of her terror linger within you, an unshakable presence that will probably never fade. You can still feel her cold hands on your skin, her icy, rotten breath on the back of your neck.

Forcing your eyes to open, and swallowing the pain, you turn your head to the side. Once you make out your brother’s features, you bite the inside of your cheeks. It takes a while for your vision to clear, to arrive fully in the moment, but when you do, you find yourself asking him, "What is it?" 

You’re quite dazed, from a sleepless night and the nightmares still haunting you, of what had been done to you … what she had done to you. And the pain. It hurts so much, you can’t lie on your back any more. Even breathing feels hard. But you don’t want to worry your brother. He’s the only family left, your whole life, you can’t let him worry.

"Thesan has been looking for you. He needs to talk to you about something but … when I see you like this … I think we need to talk about something wholly different right now." The concern within his voice is loud and clear and you know that this time there is no escaping. You need to have the conversation with him. A conversation you desperately tried to avoid for weeks … months even. 

Once the wounds had sealed, were tightly shut, but you had always had a feeling that the magic she used alongside the knife to cut them off would have some long term effects. 

You swallow roughly, close your eyes and then open them again to meet your brother’s gaze. "Something is happening with the wounds…" you whisper, barely recognising your own voice. You don’t want to sound vulnerable, weak. 

Esren presses his lips in a thin line. "Let me see."

No escaping. Especially not under his piercing gaze that seems to be looking right into your soul, already seeing your deepest secrets. So, you gather all the strength you need and push yourself up so you can turn to lie on your belly.

A low, pained groan slips through your lips when you shift and lie back down, sighing deeply as your face hits the pillow. 

"May I?" Esren’s hand hovers above your back. You give him a "mhm“.

Gently, and with utmost care, he brushes your hair away from your back, then the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. 

"The scars are quite red…"

"I know,“ you breathe and your eyes shut once more. "But you shouldn’t worry." 

"You know I always worry." He laughs softly and brings the straps of your dress back in place before you turn to lie on your side again. "Can’t you worry about what you will gift your mate as a birthday gift?“ A small grin that doesn’t reach your eyes appears on your lips. 

Esren only frowns. 

"You worry too much!“ You reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly. "When the day —the anniversary— gets closer, they always hurt more." Your eyes drift shut as you fight against the memories, not wanting to give them more space than they have already claimed. And knowing how hard it is for your brother to see you like that, how much he hurts with you and how much he hates himself for not having been the chosen one who got his wings cut instead of you, you add, "But I would appreciate it if you could call a healer. They should do a check up and maybe put some lotion on them.“

Esren seems to reluctantly agree and tells you that he will call for a healer first thing after he leaves you. Which he doesn’t want to do yet, watching you squinted eyes, his gaze as sharp as an eagle’s. 

But you don’t want to continue talking about your scars, your wings that are no longer there, or … the pain. You want to, if he insists on staying, at least talk about something else. So, quickly biting down on the insides of your cheeks to tamp down on the pain on your back, you lock your gaze with his and smile at him. “What did Thesan want?”

“Huh?”

“You came here because Thesan wanted to speak to me?!”

“Ah, right.” Esren lifts a hand to rub it over his chin, seemingly deliberating if he should tell you or not. And you hate that. You know he’s just not telling you because you’re in pain and he doesn’t want you to have to do any kind of work.

“Esren!” you say and warning laces your voice. “What did the High Lord want from me?”

He groans, the sound carrying a note of long-suffering irritation. “He needs you to help him with some last preparations for the High Lords’ meeting.”

“Oh it’s this weekend, right….” You blow out a long breath and the expression on his face speaks volumes. There’s fear within the deep blue of his eyes. Both because he worries that preparing for the meeting will be too much for your physical and mental health. And because you will see Rhysand again. The male who used his mind powers to distract you while Thesan … removed the last bit of your wings that still was attached to your skin.

But now that war is coming sooner than expected, it’s inevitable to face parts of your past once again. Because this war will be bigger. More lethal. And Prythian needs to get ready for whatever is about to come.

“Tell him, I shall meet him this evening. I don’t … I don’t … I–”

“I will!” Esren presses his lips in a thin line. He lets his gaze drop to his thighs and then rises. “Y/N, I know how strong you are. I know how powerful you are, but your health will always be my priority. And it should be yours as well!” He sighs deeply. “So if you don’t feel well, don’t pressure yourself. Don’t … he understands. Everyone does. Don’t feel bad about … it. Never do.” He leans down and brushes a soft, brotherly kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll let a healer know to come here now, so you won’t be woken up later.”

Everyone does. 

His words still hollow through mind after he closes the door and walks away. You don’t want people to pity you. Yes, Amarantha took your wings and with it a part of your identity. And yes, you were in pain, and yes, you cried a lot. But if there’s one thing you really can’t stand, then it is pity. You don’t want them to look at you with their sad eyes.

What was done to you was cruel, but you survived and that is it. This is your life now, you don’t want to be constantly reminded of your past. Of the cruelty Amarantha has done to you.

You want to focus on the presence, on the future ahead of you. The High Lord’s meeting which you have been preparing for for a while now. This is what gives you strength. That despite what was done to you, you’re still vital in the court, important for the High Lord and that you can still work as efficiently as before. 

She may have harmed your body, and your soul. But she couldn’t break you. She took your wings, but you still won. You live and she is dead.

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