#Mental Ebonics

[justloyld]

Important Stuff

This will be modified as new things are discovered.

[ulkaralakbarova]

TIFF 2024: Balancing Protection and Paranoia: Sarah Paulson Shines in the Haunting Thriller "Hold Your Breath"

Source: IMDB ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4 out of 5. Being an overprotective parent can stem from a mother’s desire to keep her child safe, but it comes with its own drawbacks. While some level of protection is undoubtedly necessary, excessive control can hinder the development of a child’s coping skills. A balanced approach is key. So how does Hold Your Breath manage this delicate balance? Let’s explore…

[y3ager]

MATERIAL GIRL.

— and what do you give the girl who has everything? two rich boyfriends!

jean k. x eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, fluff, polyamorous relationship. socialite!reader. lovergirldeepdown!reader. 4k word count. inspired by this blurb.

HAILING FROM OLD money— your father the CEO of a century old automobile brand and your mother the third generation runway model—you have seen all there is to see, worn what there is to wear, had every priceless stone dangle from your neck and fingers, and tasted the most decadent of foods. the belief that just superficial things would be enough to sway you offends you greatly. if you don’t have it, you will have it as if it’s your right at this point. it takes much more than dinner and a yacht ride to make you squeal.

and that’s what’s so tiring about the whole dating scene. the pool is filled to the brim with arrogant nepotism babies in khaki shorts and sweaters around their shoulders. they’ll never worry about a thing because daddy kisses the ass of this man and mommy grins in the face of that woman, and by god, do they make it known. if another man brags about owning original modigliani pieces over dinner, he’ll be met with an oyster shell to the eye. who are you supposed to be, some bright-eyed influencer? please. check the pedigree.

things changed when you met them, however. one in the summer, and one in the winter.

you were on the jet back home from italy when hitch, a girl you’ve known since you were a tyke, bombarded your phone with messages about christening her new penthouse with a pool party you just had to come to, lest she’d drag you there. after confirming your attendance, you rolled back over in the white leather reclining seat and pulled your silk eye mask back down, making a mental note to get your braids refreshed and place an order for a new bikini.

you’re reborn as a literal doll, the braids on the left side of your head coaxed into an intricate butterfly while the others lay flat against your scalp in faultless rows and hang low to your hipbones. white, white, white everywhere, from the nails, the strappy swimsuit, the miu miu sandals; a beautiful contrasts against your glistening ebon skin dusted with body shimmer for good measure. perfect, as usual.

hitch’s new high rise penthouse is something out of a multimillion dollar budget drama, with its dozens of crystal clear windows and modern interior. sitting far away enough from the city to avoid the hustle and bustle, but close enough to gaze at the twinkling lights, it’s practically a palace for the dreyse corporation heir.

champagne flute filled with 1820 juglar cuvée, you mingle amongst the next generation of the one percent. hitch’s friends, and your friends by proxy you assume, are a breath of fresh air. human.

but there’s one person amongst the gaggle you don’t recognize. from your spot next to the slightly tispy miss dreyse, your dark eyes glance over the rim of your ivory framed sunnies, glass rim tapping absentmindedly against lined, glossed lips. light brown mullet, slightly tanned skin, dark brown eyes...

“hitchie...” your elbow gently bumps into the blonde’s sides, snatching her out of her mild stupor. “who’s that?” you ask innocently, gesturing with your half full flute. it’s casual, inquisitive.

hitch squints a little bit, pure concentration written all over her features as she tries to put a name to the face. “oh!” when the name comes to her, her hand meets the back of your shoulder in a kinda hard slap, totally unintentional, of course. “jean, kirschtein! you know, from-” a hiccup interrupts her introduction, making her burst into a quick giggle. “-the oil company.”

the pieces begin to come together, you know the names all of the elite; the braun’s, the leonhart’s, the ackerman’s, names listed amongst yours and names you close deals with. clans with power, influence, wealth, distinction.

he, jean, is walking over now; casual with an easy stride that shows he’s in no rush, he’s confident. he pays his respects to the girl of the hour, congratulating her on her new playhouse before her attention is diverted by another guest calling her name to get her to come over there. hitch slips off, but not before discreetly tapping your lower back in excitement; an unspoken ‘get him.’

“jean,” he introduces himself, extending his hand in a polite greeting. “i wanted to speak to hitch, but i wanted to talk to you, too. you are breathtaking.” his eyes drink you in, from head to toe, even though they’ve been roaming your frame since you first caught his attention. the heir simply cannot get enough. “but you get told that a lot, yes?”

“thank you.” your lips spread into a small smile, one hand slipping into his larger one as the other pulls off your sunnies, sticking one of the arms down into your top. “i’m ___” jean bore a lean swimmer’s build, dark navy beach shorts hung low on his hips, and his tanned skin decorated with a dusting of faint, brown freckles over his body. years of private villas and yachts, no doubt. he was impossibly tall, too, you find yourself having to gently tilt your head back to see his face fully. it was cute from afar, maturely handsome up close. was that a faint hint of a mustache? it was hot.

jean repeats your name slowly, enjoying the feeling of that line of syllables rolling off his tongue. “i’d love to get to know you more. ___, you’re so beautiful. i have to impress you somehow. name it,” his other hand comes up to rest of top of yours, successfully encasing it in a gentle hold. an excuse to touch you just a little bit more. “i’ll make it happen.”

your smile becomes a grin, and your dark eyes glint mischievously under your delicate lashes. one quick test, because where’s the fun in not initiating one? you just want to see what he’d say, pick at his brain. what sweet words will he spin from his golden cords now? “but jean,” you begin softly, “what if i was the type of girl that liked a man that took control? told me we were doing this, at this time, on this day, and in my prettiest red dress?”

“it’d be rude, ___, at least in my eyes, to so quickly assume i had a right to your time, and drag you around this way and that. allow me the privilege of occupying your time, and space.”

before you can catch it, one of your expertly threaded and sculpted eyebrows quirks up in mild surprise. you beckon him a bit closer to your face with a wave of your acrylics. “good answer,” you tease, honeyed voice playful and whispery. “phone? i can put my number in, and we can talk about how you can try to romance me when i have my schedules laid out in front of me.” you watch as he fishes the device out of his shorts pocket.

you were captivating afar, but up close with your tawny skin soft, glittery, and emanating an intoxicating vanilla scent, your dark eyes glistening with mirth and playfulness… it makes jean’s body go into some type of shock, his heart plummeting to his feet and his blood running cold but racing through his veins at the same time.

“well then,” you chime as you save your digits into the millionaire’s phone, the contact simply your name with no bells or whistles to adorn it. “i hope we can get to know each soon, mr. kirschtein.”

jean thinks that pearly white smile will be the death of him.

…

every year, no matter what, your father throws his annual christmas party. you long assumed that it brings him a special type of happiness because your normally humble father goes all out for them, each year being better than the last. he flies out the best chefs in the world to cook for hours, orders the tallest, greenest tree for the foyer, and has the house cleaned til someone could check their reflection in the perfect marble floors. when it comes to this, the man skimps on nothing.

you take it upon yourself to make the most of it, requesting custom design dresses from the most exclusive sewing tables over in Europe, shoes fresh from the runway. only the very best for you, the heiress, the crème de la crème, the girl who has never known the word no.

“dance with me?”

you had been absentmindedly swirling your wine glass by its delicate stem, attempting to place its origin (red, tart-like with its cranberry flavor and a strange orange bite near the end), when you’re approached. once you turn your head, you’re meet with striking green eyes and a sharp little smile.

“you looked bored, and that’s what these parties are for, right?”

eren yeager, the german-american son of grisha and carla yeager, 2nd generation genius neurosurgeon with a net worth in the 7 figures, and the just-as-talented, third generation wedding gown designer. according to the rumor mill, after graduating in the top of class in one of those ivy’s upstate, he gallivanted across the country (no, the world) as the not-so-favorable yeager son. of course, there are entirely too many eyes on the yeager clan for grisha to do too much of anything and a son can do no wrong in a doting mother’s eyes; so eren is left free to his disagreeable desires. everyone wonders how long that will last.

steely dark eyes and your naturally neutral face does nothing to deter him. you decide to indulge him, slipping your hand into his and raising up, allowing him the luxury of whisking you to the dance floor. “i guess i don’t see why not.”

“great.” his hand is soft and a little cool against your own, the woody, cedar notes of penhaligon the inimitable gently wafting off his skin and pressed shirt. unbeknownst to you, a few pairs of eyes bore into yeager’s back. the arrogance he has to whisk you away so early into the party, especially with it being his first one. if eren was the wiser, he’d revel in their envy.

there’s a handful of other couples waltzing across the floor when you two arrive. your fingers thread through his as his free hand finds a respectful place on your waist, blessed with the feeling of the smooth skin exposed by the opening in your dress.

no matter how much money your father makes, he’s an old black man at heart. old r&b plays from the expensive sound system he had installed, tevin campbell’s can we talk playing through the speakers. the irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. nonetheless, you hum nonchalantly to the tune and glide around the floor with your partner.

“i gotta ask, do you enjoy these things? or does your dad put you up to it?” your arm is held above your head and you’re spun around in a quick circle before being guided back to eren’s chest. face still impartial, you nod your head towards your five o clock, the wavy blonde strands dangling from your delicate updo tickling your face. a table teems with gifts for you and you only, bachelors from afar vying for a wisp of your attention with shiny, expensive gifts. they fail to realize that a girl like yourself isn’t so easily bought. but, it’s their money not yours, and few things in life bring you greater joy than pulling ribbon and wrapping paper from luxury brand boxes.

“of course i do. i’m not ‘put up’ to anything. i dress up, i get my presents. what isn’t there to love?” manicured hand splayed across the man’s back, you’re dipped towards the floor. you’re one to give credit where credit is due, yeager is a good dancer; the confidence in his movements isn’t a lame front and he maintains the delicate balance between taking the lead and dragging his poor partner around. since this is suddenly an interview, you have questions of your own. “when i have time to go through them, will i find your name on anything?”

“of course you will. be pretty damn rude to show up to a party empty handed. especially when it might be my only chance to get a gift for the princess.” a name your normally cringe and scrunch your nose at sounds surprisingly nice passing by his lips. he grinned boyishly. “no hints.”

“i can wait. for your sake, i hope it’s no ring. it’s going straight into the garbage.” just the thought of such a “present” makes your blood want to boil. who raised these “men”? i mean honestly, what brain dead fool buys a ring for a girl who didn’t even know his face? and expected her to wear it? you would sooner die and go to hell first.

“no way someone is that dumb. you’re fucking with me.”

“what do i have to lie for?”

"well, taking a look at these guests, i take it back. some of these bastards look dumb enough to pull a stunt like that." eren scans the array of guests over your shoulder, and you can't even feign offense for your father's sake. scanning over a guestlist for former flames and explaining why you didn't want them in attendance would take too much time, and you really didn't feel like explaining "relationship troubles" to your dad of all people. loved him as much as you did that really wasn't his business. besides, watching them shiver and skulk away from your disinterested and annoyed glance made up for everything. "are you a betting woman?"

"did you waste grisha's money on a degree in journalism?" your eyebrows furrow and eren laughs again.

"you're funny, ___. most of our peers aren't so witty. and if it so pleases her majesty, i want to bet on the odds of one of these dumbasses putting a ring under your tree." eren's green eyes stare down into yours, gleaming with playfulness, mirth, and confidence. "what do you say? someone does, and we can go on a date, just us two, and you can smile and laugh a little bit."

"and if there's no ring?"

"i'll leave you alone and fall in place in your long string of broken hearts."

luck has always been on your side. look at the family you were in born in, the riches that are your birthright! the universe has never dealt you a bad hand and surely wouldn’t start now. and worse case scenario, you hang out with one of the few men that can mark your plump lips twitch in the shadow of a giggle. “fine.” your brown eyes meet his green, and neither of the waver. “deal.”

several days later, gifts from around the globe surround you. handbags, shoes, dresses, envelopes bursting with cash; you’ll have to tell your dad you need some walls knocked down in your already spacious closet to make room for more. amidst all this, though, a godforsaken ring is gripped between your fingers. if looks could kill, it would melting and dripping from your grasp. holding it like it’s contaminated, you snap a picture to send to yeager:

‘i’m free the 3rd weekend and tuesdays.’

…

as temperatures rise again, you spend the next few months allowing jean kirstein and eren yeager the luxury of whisking you away when your schedule permits.

the former is a bit... old fashioned, in a good way! you're led off to slow paced, cozy dates; the two of you roaming italian streets, attending shows in their original opera houses, he never strayed you out of the bubble you two were born in. it was casual, soft, predictable in a good way.

eren on the other hand, spent money like it would burn through his pocket if it sat there too long. he spent money like a man who just felt its crispness in his palms and was addicted to the feeling, knowing deep down it'd never stop flowing for him. you're frequenting the night scene in your tight, revealing dress, his firm hands on your hips as you two grind to the pounding beats. shopping spree dates that lasted all day, if your hand so much as brushed it, it was bought, packaged up, and in the car. spontaneous flights abroad, stealing you away for weekends. it was exhilarating.

they both provide the things you're looking for. jean is the type of man you imagine yourself settling down with one day, when the whole young and turnt shtick melts away into something more domestic and slow paced. he has gentle hands and treats you so delicately, softly. his reliability will be something you can learn to lean on and need.

eren could possibly be that type of man too, but for now he has a fire, impulses that keep you oh so entertained. having everything in the world gets boring, and eren brings that spark that you crave.

you ruminate at your vanity. hair tied down and tucked away under a silky soft bonnet, you run your gua sha across your moisturized face, long sweeping strokes that end with a gentle tug. eye masks rest on your face, your feet clothed by a exfoliating mask, and a fluffy robe envelopes your body. you stare at your reflection, you're the only one who gets you.

you're really at a crossroads. you choosing between something is unheard of. you're ___, you get everything you deserve and want tenfold. you like jean, you like eren. the way they look at you with such adoration, how their hands and lips caress your body, the sweets words they declare, and how every promise they've made to you remains unbroken, oh how they must certainly feel the same for you.

as greedy as it may make you sound, you want both. your cake and to eat it too. two of your richest peers fawning over you day in and day out, them caring for you and you caring for them. them loving you, and you loving them. it’s a dream that will be your reality.

…

after a long day at sea on one of many jean’s yachts, the sun beaming down on not only the beautiful blue water but the two of you, entangled in each other’s arms, docks at the private harbor.

you’re running your fingers through your french curl braids as jean talks to one of the dock’s attendees, slightly sleepy from your sunbathing session. the gentle breeze of the day brings the smell of saltwater up to your nostrils and you hear seagulls squawking from spots on the wooden posts. obviously, a day at the water leaves you craving seafood, juicy lobster tails with a decadent pasta on the side. your daydreams of the soon to be dinner are interrupted by an extremely familiar “yo!”

heads turn, and it’s none other than eren striding across the dock’s walkway towards where you and jean are standing. his green eyes shine at the sight of you, the hot pink of your two piece bikini a perfect contrast to your skin and showing curves and bends he’d worship for the rest of his life. oh, and jean’s here too.

another woman might falter, her heart catching in her throat and sweat beading up on her flesh as her suitors stand before her, but you’re the epitome of calm, brown eyes smoothly meeting eren’s. there’s no ring on your finger, and besides, you know what you’re after right now.

“haven’t seen you in a while, yeager.” knowing it’d be cliche, jean fights against the urge to wrap a protective arm around your waist. “done gallivanting the world?”

“seen all there is to see kirschtein, and you say that like it’s insult. what use is money if it just sits in accounts collecting dust.” eren looks at you again, god you’re a sight for sore eyes. “especially when there’s a woman like her to spend it on.”

jean’s eyes can’t help but to roll. what a cornball. “well, good chat, but ___ and i are on a little time crunch. i’m taking her to niccolo’s, especially after being on the water.” his hand slips into yours, taking charge but not tugging you along. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like this side of him.

“well, now that you mention it, i could go for some niccolo’s too.” eren’s grin is shit-eating. what a cute dynamic these too have, one you know has a bit more bite to it when a lady isn’t in their presence. “how about i join? matter of fact, my treat.”

“that won’t be necessary.”

“i insist.”

“you two would argue all day if i let you,” you interrupt this small tussle, and now their attention is back on you. a manicured hand raises up to cover your small yawn. “like an old married couple.”

“it’s all in good fun,” eren’s shoulder nudges jean, and if jean had lasers for eyes, the youngest heir to yeager fortune would be a pile of dust before your feet. “we go way back.”

jean ignores him entirely, but eren finds it hilarious. “what he’s suggesting is insane, ___.”

you give a gentle shrug of your shoulder, coyness at the ready. “it’s nothing serious, it’s a lunch date between friends, and i bet you’d like to catch up.”

jean’s jaw tenses. he turns to you completely as eren looks on curiously. “i think it’s a sign that you say that, ___. i’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you for a while. yes, we are friends, but i want to be more with you.”

this moment, with the waves crashing across the dock, the sun illuminating the two of you, jean clasping your hands tight, would’ve been a soft, tender, picturesque one had it not been for eren’s booming laughter.

“oh, so now this is a pissing contest, huh, jean? well, since we’re confessing feelings, i have my own to speak for you.” his outburst breaks your gaze, and you and jean both turn in unison. “___, i want you to be my girlfriend, and i’ve felt this way for a while. i’ve been waiting for just the perfect moment, but i can’t let this jack-off take this one for himself right?” comically, you’re put between them, each of your hands in theirs.

“i…” this takes tact, a delicate way of stringing together words and honestly, with their eyes boring into yours, you find yourself falling just a touch short.

“i respect any decision you make,” jean assures.

“___, i will do anything for you,” eren promises.

any decision. anything.

you bit your bottom lip, hands minutely twitching in their clasp. you lean in neither direction, at the center of them. “any?”

and then there’s a beat of silence. and everyone’s looking at each other. this feels like a scene in a sitcom, something that should be accompanied with a laugh-track, but there’s no closed mouth that’s been fed.

“because in the time i’ve gotten to know both of you, i’ve begin to care for both of you. and i’ve made great memories with the two of you. i know i could make even more. i don’t value any time spent with you over each other’s.” your voice shakes just a tiny, tiny bit, vulnerability creeping in. “you too make me… so happy.”

eren cuts the silence first, ever the impulsive one. “i’ll do it.”

“you cut me off,” jean quickly interjects. eren really puts him on his toes, ignites an aggressive fire deep within, steps on just the right nerves. “i’m doing it too.”

“i said i’d do anything.”

“and i said i’d respect any decision.”

“okay!” you voice crashes down like a gavel. “okay. i’m glad that you two are hearing me out,” a smile tugs at your glossed lips, this feels so easy and lighthearted, a stark contrast from the seriousness you impose upon yourself. already, you feel yourself loosening up, because the two of them bring out the true, relaxed you like nothing else can. “but for our sanity the bickering needs to come down a notch before we all kill each other, yeah?”

two strong pairs of arms envelop you. it takes some effort, but you wrap your own around the two of them. three heads together, you find yourselves laughing. a weight eases of your shoulders, but not because you got your way, but because you know this is the death of a mask created by the circle you were born in. a mask that hides the love you can feel in an attempt to guard it.

“well, we won’t kill you.”

nov 13. 2021. nov 9. 2023. i nearly gave up. i almost threw in the towel. but goddammit she’s done. praise god.

[sueheesblog]

Let's talk about some stuff! SZN 3: SPOILERS I watched the season after I saw some spoilers on X and from friends lmao. I didn't sleep. Sorry for the typos n shit. I need to vent.

- First off, Syd and Cousin carried the whole fxcking SZN on their backs, while Carmy was too busy being a psycho. Ayo n Ebon deserves all the awards. JAW is a fantastic actor - 10/10 for all 3 of them. Everyone else did great too, Napkin was 😭😭😭 AYO DID THAT. Those 3 are legends in my eyes!!!! If Ayo leaves or if the writers do her dirtier in SZN 4 I'm DONE. I cried for her this SZN, n for Carm too.

- All of Sydcamry scenes for some reason gave me butterflies even though they drifted farther apart each eps. Syd getting Carmy's dish was top tier - incredible writing from the writers. I just need them to explain more - what is the purpose of having Syd n Carmy tied together - if Claire is so great why not tied her to Carmy? Why does she seem like someone who died, haunting Carmy like his toxic boss? She more unbearable this season n I think it's intentional.

- Some ppl were saying Claire had alittle more substance this SZN and I beg to differ. She's like a dead gf to me. Her scenes with Carmy are so cold, dead, and heavy - like a burden. She triggers my anxiety n I don't know y - n I don't want to be mean, but just how their scene are edited, it literally puts me at the edge of a panic attack. The writers had the audacity to call her PEACE. I did not experience peace watching her scene and I think Carmy feels the same way from the jump. So, Fxck no, she ain't PEACE, that's Syd and it's obvious.

- Claire being labeled as PEACE makes no sense - the writers are trying too hard n it's make me sick. If she's so great, let her n Carmy run/manage The Bear.

- Syd is the invisible string that's holding everyone together in this chaotic sh!thole, while babysitting Carmy and keeping him from combusting. Unc, Nat, Pete, COUSIN, Marcus, and everyone else are staying afloat because Syd is the fxcking life vest that's strapped to their chest.

- Syd is calm, organized, observant, caring, considerate etc. Yet, these fxcking writers said Claire was peace- that line had my blood boilingggggggg.

- Syd's relationship with her Dad is everything

- Sydcarmy is sooo far apart it physically hurts. They didn't even do ther sign thing over their chest this season.......I get this feeling (just a FEELING) that Syd might be in love or has a crush on CARMY 😭😭😭. The margin wider scene gave me that vibe. When you like someone, you notice every little thing they do. There were times I wanted her to hug him soooo bad, I just felt like if she did if would've grounded him. He really needed a hug this season.

- Something I think some of you might have missed. Remember SZN1 Ep1 when Syd said her dad ate at The Beef on Sundays. We got confirmation from Carm, in SZN 3 that The Beef/The Bear only closes on Sundays. 😂😂🤣😂 (this was in the scene with him n Claire in a dark room or whatever. It might have been a dream scene idk) So, Carm knew Syd lied. I need the writers to have Carm n Syd talk about it and the meal she had in NYC. These are only a few important stuff they hid in the storytelling and I need to know WHYYYYYYYY.

- Carmy had a panic attack during service. Syd's voice took him off the edge. And I must say, her voice could really calm me down too lmao.

These fxcking writers are lowkey abusing Syd at this point. She's being stretched thin, and again this is also why I think she's in love with Carmy. It hurts her, but she's so into him, connected to him physically n mentally. It's really hard for her to let him or The Bear. It reminds me of the time Donna said "I make things pretty for others, but no one makes things pretty for me" not being verbatim lol. Syd did sooo much heavy lifting this SZN and no one noticed it, they all subconsciously over look her and gave all praises to Claire and making her the peace and angel.

- We finally saw Syd broke tf down in ep 10. Baby girl couldn't be strong anymore. She doesn't want to leave Carmy or The Bear but after the round table talk with the workers from Ever. She realized that Carmy - the person she idolize or even love/crush on, might not be good for her. Carmy is trying but the communication is lacking so bad, and on top of that he's pushing her away.

At this point, the partnership agreement seems like a trap to keep her. If Unc cut his connection to The Bear that's going to be Syd last straw. And if she leaves, I kinda see Tina, Marcus, and maybe COUSIN going with her or they will stay and give Carmy HELLL for losing her. The tables would turn. Everyone is so hang up on Claire leaving, if Syd leaves, Claire would go straight through the window. That would be the moment of realization (for all of them. Especially Carmy) that the woman he really NEEDS is Syd and not Claire. But for some reason, they all think Syd ain't going nowhere which is so naive. She got a bigggg offer and I can't wait to see when she tells Carmy. Would he confess her importance to him to keep her? Would he beg her to stay? Would he listen more or communicate more to keep her? Would he ask her what would make her stay at The Bear? Or would he be a b!tch and tell her to go cauase it's a great opportunity? And then after confess that he's having a hard time letting her go. Very interesting stuff.

- Last thing - Unc talking to Syd. I was shock he was looking to Syd for answers as to what's going on with Carmy. This was also telling. Unc believes or senses that these too are CLOSE. And Syd being a good gf/partner kept her mouth closed. SYD is an angel sent from heaven, cause I would be so done with The Bear😭😭😭😭.

We saw that Carmy and Syd are having conversations that we are not seeing on screen. For example, he asked her about her new apartment. When did she tell him?? He then asked about her dad. Sir, what about her dad? Did she tell him about the annoying bathroom exchange? Are they sharing more about their personal life that we, the audience is not seeing? So many fxcking questions in SZN3.

This is just my thoughts. I saw the season once so this not an analysis.

[docgold13]

Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Aquamarina 

A young woman from Dakota City, Maria was among the many unsuspecting individuals exposed to the mutagenic Quantum Vapor.  This substance caused physical alterations and the development of metahuman powers.  Maria was bestowed hydrokinesis, the ability to generate and mentally control water.  She was additionally able to transform her entire body into a watery substance highly impervious to harm.

Maria chose to use her newfound abilities to become a super villain, taking the alias of ‘Aquamarina.’  She joined Ebon’s Meta-Breed and had numerous altercations with the heroic Static.  She later began a romantic relationship with her fellow villain, Hotstreak.   

Sometime later, Aquamarina was apprehended and convinced to participate in trials conducted by Dr. Todd who was working on a means of reversing the effects of the Quantum Vapor.  Maria agreed, hoping to be reunited with her family.  Hotstreak, meanwhile, interceded and attempted to rescue Maria, ultimately causing the experimental process to go awry

Aquamarina ended up bonding with the water of the bay, becoming an enormous, watery creature.  Out of control, she threatened to destroy all of Dakota.  

Working together, Static, Gear and Hotstreak discovered a means of administering Dr. Todd’s cure through electrical conduction.  It worked and Maria was returned to her original, human state. 

Actresses Erika Velez and Yeni Alvarez each provided the voice for Aquamaria with the former villainess first appearing in the eighth episode of the second season of Static Shock, ‘Bad Stretch.’  

[esperanta-dragon]

Going to tumblr is hard for me these days because I didn't write anything WoW related for ages and I miss it. I did not draw anything in ages too and I miss it, but I can't get to it mentally. I used to create content, engage with community, replying to questions, advising about death knights and so on.

Then sometimes death knight or Mograine art pops on my dashboard and it's like slap in my face: "weren't you supposed to draw/write something as well?"

The feeling of dropping out of fandom is hard for me and I can't imagine it will change. Fanfics I wanted to write but I don't have time/mood/insp anymore to just sit and write for hours. Same with my art.

I want to start The Ebon Blade comic during WotLK era which should be also analogy to trauma recovery, but I missed the best time to release it during WotLK Classic.

I decided to start it in few months this year but the constant feeling that people will no longer care is just crippling even though I want to draw it and finally go for it.

[gingerylangylang1979]

Male identity: Carmy and Richie

I’m finding that a certain demographic of fans have a much harder time relating to Carmy but very much relate to Richie. Granted, a lot of this has to do with what fandom platform you observe. I actually kind of hate The Bear subreddit but continue to browse it periodically because it’s super interesting to hear what “the others” are talking about. I rarely engage anymore because it’s mostly nonsense and a totally different vibe than Tumblr. The contingent is definitely very anti-Carmy x Sydney and seems to hate Sydney. I’ve also noticed that while there is a lot of love for Carmy there is even more love for Richie. I’m very intrigued by this perspective. 

This season Richie was definitely a standout. I think Ebon is an amazing actor and am glad he is finally getting nominated for his role. I thought he got robbed with the non-Emmy nominations. But even before S2 I noticed that Richie was the most favored character among the Reddit demo and perhaps a big part of the general audience. That’s fine, people can favor who they like. I know that doesn’t represent everyone but I do think that speaks for what I consider general audience and makes sense considering how society still views manhood despite social progress. This season even a lot of the reviews were kind of meh about Carmy. I get it, I initially was writing him off too, was pissed, and thought he had the worst arc. Then once thoughts settled he went back to being my hero. Deeply flawed, but I just relate to him so much and he’s fascinating to watch. I’m a woman, so maybe that helps my empathy. I also don’t think The Bear would work with Richie as the lead as some have suggested. 

The thing is Carmy is a more difficult character because he has multiple layers of trauma, his work is so specialized and niche, he is a sensitive soul, he’s artistic, and he doesn’t fit the mold of the working class male models he was surrounded by. Your typical man can’t relate to him. And most likely your typical conservative leaning woman can’t either. At the Christmas party he was appalled at how the other guys were talking about Claire. And this is a woman he had a crush on and is present day attracted to. He could have easily been superficial and macho and laughed at the jokes as expected. He didn’t let Richie get away with calling Syd sweetheart. Richie says he’s “woke”. He employs a woman in a leadership role. He’s built different. 

He is struggling in many ways that are hidden and he also lashes out. The hidden ways and the lashing out are interpreted as whiny and annoying by people that can’t relate. He’s been cited as not growing but people can’t acknowledge that his healing won’t be linear. But how can it be when his trauma was collected in overlapping seasons for most of his life? The pain didn’t develop in a linear path. He had a stutter when he was young. There are hints that there is a learning issue of some sort (I’m not going to try and diagnose). He was always the “different” one in the family. The other guys call him “weird”. His father was absent. His mom has mental health issues and is an alcoholic. He witnessed the traumatic incident at Christmas and I’m sure it wasn’t the only such incident. His brother was an addict that pushed him away, then killed himself. He went into a chaotic, highly demanding field that required him to isolate to excel. He is shy and has trouble forming close bonds. He had a mentally abusive boss. He was always super competitive. He comes back to own The Beef and it’s problem after problem. How are people expecting him to be “fun” and have an easy comeback like Richie? 

Richie has issues, too. Stagnant in mid-life, spent years devoted to an addict, failed marriage, feeling disillusioned and displaced, also an absent father. But when we meet Richie he’s not as wounded as Carmy. Carmy is literally sleep cooking, almost starting fires, dissociating, having panic attacks. Richie is sad but it mostly manifests as him being kind of nasty and grumpy. He’s like a sour old man with dated and offensive jokes. His behavior is dismissed because he’s grieving. Which yes, he deserves a pass. But why does he deserve a bigger pass than Carmy who is dealing with so much more or Sydney who seemed to bear the biggest brunt of his outrage and was also struggling? Carmy is literally on the verge of a breakdown and has the weight of trying to keep the staff, the business, and himself afloat. Despite all this Richie gets a lot of indulgences for his bad behavior that Carmy isn’t. 

Richie is easier for a lot of people to digest because he’s funny, he’s the working class representative, he’s tall (yes people have height bias, especially with men). Carmy is viewed as the pompous prodigal son that’s trying to ruin Richie’s delicate ecosystem by gentrifying and kicking out “the working man”. There are people posting in disgust that he dare change The Beef despite it being a hell hole money pit. 

It’s just so interesting that in reality we are dealing with an unprecedented numbers of men who report extreme loneliness, depression, hopelessness. Richie and Carmy both fit that profile. Yet, a man like Richie is broadly understood and accepted and a man like Carmy isn’t. It goes back IMO to the continual coding of masculine/good vs feminine/bad. Richie is the stereotypical red blooded American male. He wants the stripper’s panties. He has a gun. He needs to be alpha. He views anything outside the norm as a threat. He wants to preserve tradition at all costs. Carmy is his foil. Carmy is viewed as feminine. 

I see it even on Tumblr with the persistent identification of Carmy as somehow feminine. Like he can’t be soft and traumatized and just be a man. So what does that say when even people who would probably consider themselves progressive still classify a man in feminine terms if he isn’t a MAN? We accept all types of gender identities but still struggle with a man not fitting the correct paradigm. Society still has issues accepting that men can be vulnerable and struggling without being feminized. People also make assumptions about Carmy’s gender identity and sexuality based on his trauma. Like, of course he has to be XYZ because well, look at him, he’s sad an pathetic. What does that say about men’s sexuality and identity? Are only queer men accepted as sad? Carmy could be a queer character, cool, representation matters. But I just find the semi-automatic equation of queerness with an atypical male to be odd and a bit regressive. 

Edited to add on above: I hope what I’m saying doesn’t get interpreted as dismissing queer people who identify with Carmy. I get it, I support it. What I’m speaking to is the insistence that canon Carmy is queer because of his interests, aesthetic, and mental health as if that is the only identity option. Granted, he could be bi. I also think some people are insistent on this, just as they are on Syd not being into men, as a way to negate the possibility of them being romantic. Again, I’m saying some people. Also, proximity and shared struggle doesn’t equal identity. This makes me think of once when a white gay male bestie claimed we are the same because I’m a black women. I had to kindly correct. We share the same haters, we are both marginalized, but he will never know my experience just like I will never know his. We can bond on the commonalities but we aren’t exactly the same. IMO, it would be a disservice to both of us to claim different.

I’m really rambling, but just thought I would share my thoughts and open a conversation about this. 

[renegade-skywalker]

A snippet from my massive kotor 2 epic, Out of the Abyss, where Atton and Eden share a moment aboard the Ebon Hawk but are interrupted by floating space debris on the approach to Dantooine courtesy of Malak from the first game, haunting the narrative almost as much as Revan is because even in death the man hates to be upstaged

~~~

Atton couldn’t tell which was stranger - the knowing or the not knowing. 

He watched Eden as she examined the nav computer from the corner of his eye, tracing the outline of her as if to match her present self to the stolen one still buried in his memory, wrenched from the mental depths of the mark he’d beaten and turned on Revan’s orders. It fit but also didn’t, lining up in places he did not expect and differing in ways that surprised him further still. But it was the coincidence of it all that unnerved him most, the pieces of his past fitting uncomfortably into place the longer he was in the woman’s presence.

“So,” Eden began, her glance skewing sideward as if detecting his gaze. “What’s our ETA?”

“Uh,” Atton sputtered, turning his attention towards the controls in a way he hoped conveyed that it had always been there. “Less than an hour, looks like.”

Dantooine was a place Atton had never ventured, nor had he ever wanted to. People generally didn’t. From what he knew, it was a fringe world on the cusp of the Outer Rim, known mostly for its farming and for its Jedi. Two things Atton had made a career of avoiding at all costs. 

“An hour,” Eden turned the phrase over, considering it. “Alright.”

Atton afforded her a genuine glance now, unafraid if she noticed this time, and furrowed his brow. She was tracing the trade routes again, and from what he could spy from the pilot’s chair, she was currently examining the backwater Myto's Arrow with a careful hand. Atton knew that route by heart, mentally reiterating its coordinate path in his mind as he watched Eden do so with her index finger. 

“A lot’s changed in the last ten years,” Atton said, taking a stab at what mired Eden’s mind. She’d been standing behind him for the better part of the last hour, entranced by the map as if she’d never seen one before. “Must be strange.”

“Hmm,” Eden hummed in somber affirmation, her posture wilting slightly. She cocked her head the other way, as if the map might betray something else from that angle. Judging by the way she then shook her head, Atton figured it didn’t. “I never thought about it ‘til now, but to see it all laid out in little informational blurbs and data, it’s just-”

Eden sighed.

“I forgot the rest of the galaxy kept moving.”

Atton had no follow-up to this. Instead, he internally cataloged what planets had since joined the Republic and which routes had changed in the last ten years as if it were a new mental exercise to add to his ongoing repertoire of meticulous distractions. Even the last five years alone were eventful in that regard, and with the Peragus depot now having been exploded out of existence…

“So it goes,” Atton sighed himself, pushing away from the pilot’s console and standing up. His lower back popped with a satisfying crack followed in quick succession by his shoulders snapping out of their shared stasis upon stretching. 

“I feel like I need to do that to my brain,” Eden commented with an air of jealousy.

Atton laughed breathily before turning back to the white-blue expanse of hyperspace, his face feeling hot. 

“Don’t we all?”

He counted the planets again in his mind, surprised with just how much he remembered. Even when his mind was elsewhere, Atton was always paying attention. It came in handy when your main reaction to the going getting tough was running away to the place no one would ever find you. He’d done it to escape his mother, then the Republic, followed by the Sith, and now anyone looking to cash in on the debt Atton hoped was wiped out with the destruction of Peragus, so long as Luxa was good on her word. If he wanted to keep running, it helped to have a running tab of where he might disappear to next.

“It’ll be weird, being back,” Eden said, turning from the computer and instead standing near the co-pilot’s chair. “I haven’t been to Dantooine since before I joined the war, and even then, the place changed so much before my exile.”

Eden stared out the window, no doubt imagining both a remembered version of the planet as well as a predicted version of what they were about to discover. After a beat, she smiled, and her gaze met Atton’s. He shivered just as she said, “You’ll hate it there.”

“Oh?” If Atton’s face was already hot, it was searing now. “Know me so well already, do you?”

He not only repeated Myto's Arrow in his mind, but simulated a version of Eden tracing its trade route alongside it. Examining Eden was easier inside his own head, not to mention there was less of a chance he’d get caught staring again. 

Eden shrugged. 

“I’d like to think so,” she said with a slight smile. “You seem to have a pretty solid grasp on me.”

Do I?

Atton only furrowed his brow further at her and walked over to the navicomputer himself, unsure of how he felt to be in such close proximity to Eden even if a baser part of him yearned for it. The longer he traveled with her, the more it became an unavoidable certainty. Maybe delaying the inevitable would help him build up a tolerance, like to the juma he so desperately craved.

“What makes you say that?”

He was genuinely curious. Atton had always prided himself on reading people. It was the main reason Malak had selected him for Revan’s Sith task force, and the reason his father harbored any relationship with him as a child if only for his knack at counting cards and scrutinizing his gambling opponents. It was the reason Atton was of any use to anybody, and if he could be that for Eden too, well…

“You have a knack for anticipating what I might do next,” she said, sounding both bashfully awed yet undeniably somber, almost suspicious. “And even when you don’t, you-”

Eden paused as she turned to face him. Her brow knotted as her eyes narrowed, glowing silver in the light of the navicomputer as she tilted her head ever so slightly. Atton had every opportunity to avert his gaze but instead he held his ground, pleasantly surprised when Eden’s eyes met his. He allowed himself to be observed, to be read, even if in the confines of his mind he was still relaying coordinates and trade routes. But it remained only a vibration beneath it all, a soundtrack to the way he was reading Eden’s expression in turn, taking in the sight of the endearingly messy waves of her hair, the curve of her face, the cut of her jaw, and the way her eyes shone through the thick of her lashes over the crest of her freckled cheekbones while she examined him and thought of what to say next. 

“I what?” Atton implored, trying not to sound so interested, trying not to imagine what it might be like to trace Eden’s features with his hands instead of his eyes, skin to skin, and how her body might feel against his. 

A feeling washed over Atton, like a question and a comfort both, borne outside himself and instead from the orbit he shared with Eden now.

“You always have my back,” Eden finished, uttering the statement as if a question mark should have accentuated its end, her query only half-realized when she spoke it aloud. Atton tried to imagine the woman before him leading armies, slaughtering thousands with the saber she’d described. This version of her now, wide-eyed and vulnerable? No, never. But the version he’d seen at Lopak Slusk’s throat, face covered in blood, heat radiating off her in a way that was both cold and calculated yet raw and rending? Without a doubt. 

There are those who wage war, Kreia had said back in the cell, an image of a younger Eden superseding the version that Atton saw now, a version of her that was both imagined and true, seen through the eyes of her brother. And those who follow them.

He thought of Eden back at the military base, alternating between retching at the sight of death and conversely being the perpetrator of it. Two sides of a coin that did not match yet completed the coin nonetheless.

“Why’s that?” Eden asked, her voice whispersoft. Her eyes fluttered, surprised by her question just as Atton was, a storm brewing in his chest at the sight of her. Eden’s gaze flickered across Atton’s features, only stoic because he was now internally playing his favorite Pazaak game from start to finish, his brain humming with satisfied calm in the wake of his habitual dopamine loop. “It’s not like you owe me anything.”

She asked it as if it weren’t deserved. As if she hadn’t saved his life. As if she’d done something wrong. 

She had, of course, at Malachor. But Atton wasn’t about to say that. 

And perhaps he never would. At least not yet.

“The only reason I’m not rotting in some forgotten force cage is because of you,” he muttered. 

He imagined Corr Desyk’s horror-struck face moments before utter obliteration, his entire squadron turned to dust as Malachor’s surface decayed a thousand years’ worth of rot in an instant, and the smile of the Jedi he killed later, blood curdling on her lips as she bestowed Jaq with what she thought was a gift but was instead a curse he’d carried for years after, her words weighing heavier now than ever before -  You are a survivor, through and through. Your allegiances tell as much. 

“I owe you my life, but don’t worry. I won’t be dramatic about it.” Atton feigned a lilted, charming smile. “Promise.”

He’d always had a knack of latching onto people who would ensure his survival, even if a part of him yearned for death. It was never out of any desire for it, but out of obligation, those he left behind often paying the debt in his stead. His mother. His squadron. Corr Desyk. Even Revan and Malak perished not long after he escaped their elite forces.

Atton wondered if Eden could sense all of this, feel it in the ether between them despite the coordinates and the power couplings and the Pazaak hands running amok in his brain otherwise, not quite drowning his thoughts out but distorting the feed like a faulty radio signal. But all he felt in her presence was instead an undeniable tranquility, almost like being drugged or lulled to sleep, just as he had been by that HK back on Peragus…

Only in Eden’s presence, submission felt… nice.

Atton swallowed. Hard.

But it is your connection to the Force you must thank, for it is the reason you yet live.

“Your decision to stay is saving me more than you know,” Eden offered with a half-laugh, a blush overcoming her features in a way that endeared Atton to her more than he wanted to admit. Atton mirrored her unwittingly, unable to stop himself. It was as if he’d lost control of his body even if his mind remained his own, unlike when Kreia entered it uninvited. It wasn’t entirely different, but it also wasn’t entirely unpleasant either. 

Different versions of Eden swam in his vision, both in the real and within the confines of Atton’s mind - memory that both did and did not belong to him mingling until they merged into one. Whatever pieces felt wrong clicked into place now as goosebumps rose along Atton’s arms. She was both the villain of his past as well as his present savior - neither ruling out the other but coexisting seamlessly as if the universe suddenly made sense, as if his accidental birth, his mistake of a life and his every escape from death in the mess of its aftermath were all given sudden purpose.

“I don’t know what it is but you look… different ,” he said, the thought occurring to him as he spoke. This, too, was unbidden, speaking as if possessed. She did look different, but also very much the same. Eden only made more sense to him now, and Atton wasn’t yet sure what that meant for him. “It’s almost as if - ah, nevermind.”

This he had control over. This he could stop in its tracks. Though why Atton had no clue, and no time to question it. His mind was moving faster than he could translate, quicker than any string of coordinates he’d memorized to drown it all out. Eden - not only every facet of her being but every bit of him and where he fit in the kaleidoscope that was her - here and now, but also where their pasts lined up, parallel but never perpendicular, crossing only now, but why? And where would that lead?

“C’mon,” Eden pleaded, playfully punching Atton in the arm, her hand lingering over his elbow before pulling away. “Let me be the judge.”

Atton mulled it over, his eyes roaming Eden’s features again as if there were some detail he’d missed. 

“It’s like…” he began, the air between them both solidifying as if in amber but also dissipating as if they were dissolving into nothing but space dust, “It's like you've got this glow, but only when I see you out of the corner of my eye.”

Atton shook his head.

“It’s hard to explain, but it’s, uh,” his mind reeled, sensation and sentiment folding into one, intermingling to the point that he could not tell between the two of them, his mind brimming with numbers otherwise. “It’s good to see.”

Eden bit her lip, blushing further before betraying the smallest yet most self-indulgent smile Atton had seen yet.

“You can thank Chodo Habat for that,” Eden said. “I… I think I feel more in touch with the Force than I’ve maybe ever been.”

Eden shook her head, disbelief coloring her every gesture as her gaze receded to the middle distance and no doubt into memory. But the air between them still felt warm, comforting. Atton wanted to question it, to distrust it. Though much like Eden, he could not recall a time in which he’d felt more at ease.

“You do seem pretty calm,” Atton admitted softly, moving ever so much closer to her, yearning to feel Eden’s skin against his. Eden’s gaze only met his again, her eyes wide, moving none as Atton neared, as if wanting it, too. “A lot calmer than you were on Peragus when I first met you, at least.”

“Really?” Eden asked. She scrunched up her face slightly, her incredulity genuine. 

Atton nodded, again feeling like a willing puppet, unable to control his every impulse when this close in Eden’s proximity.

“It’s practically streaming off of you,” Atton admitted with a breathy laugh. And it was true - everything Atton had learned about the Force told him to be cautious, forever wary and always on edge. His mind a vault with no way to worm oneself in. And despite Kreia’s ability to breach his otherwise steadfast defenses, he felt himself melt in Eden’s presence, soothed by her smile and the pacific sensation radiating off her, reassuring and warm like the sun. 

“I-” Eden faltered, choking on her own words. She searched inward, unassuming, before resurfacing with the explanation, “I don’t think I’ve felt this good in a long time, actually.”

It felt like a secret, and Atton liked that.

“Well, it shows,” he said. “You’re a nice counterbalance to that old witch back there.”

He hadn’t meant to say it, but he warmed at the sight of Eden smiling in response, overcome with a bashful laugh that lit up her face, but especially her eyes. Her eyes - her painfully familiar eyes.

“Don’t tell Kreia I said this either,” Eden murmured, her smile fading thankfully little, cementing the secret between them as she leaned towards him and half-whispered, “There’s a lesson in this somewhere, but for now I’m just glad I don’t feel like I’m drowning. At least not as much as before.”

Eden shook her head.

“You probably have no idea what I’m talking about,” Eden sighed, “I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be sorry,” Atton breathed, the words tumbling out despite being a lie as he reigned in his growing desire to reach out and touch her. But beneath the warmth of his desire was something colder, something that struck a chord of fear within him just as the ship lurched, jolting out of hyperspace ahead of schedule.

Before Atton could read into the feeling, the Ebon Hawk careened into a field of debris, a few pieces precariously striking its hull and sending them sideward. Without thinking, Atton reached out for Eden, steadying her with his hands as he eased them into the corner beside the pilot’s chair, anchoring them there and preventing them from falling by hooking each of the heels of his boots behind the console and around the base of the seat. 

Eden had not only fallen into his arms but against Atton entirely, her torso pressed to his as the ship slanted sideways before eventually righting itself. Only Eden did not relieve herself of Atton’s questing grasp right away. Instead, she lingered. And Atton was in no rush to push her away. 

“You okay?” he asked.

She was surprisingly soft despite how solid she was, the sinew of her muscle evident even beneath the layers of her clothing and his. But there was an ease to their closeness that surprised Atton more than anything, an equilibrium he did not expect. His eyes met Eden’s and her gaze softened beneath his heavy-lidded stare. Eden eventually nodded.

“Fine,” she breathed. “You?”

Atton held Eden’s gaze a moment longer before blinking and nodding in turn, regrettably tearing his eyes away from her to cast about the cockpit, squinting against the duraglass in search of the ship’s unusual disruption.

“What was that?” he asked.

He was still holding Eden in his arms, but the woman made no motion to leave, her eyes following his out the window.

“No idea, but-” Eden paused, a startled choke erupting from her throat a moment after.

Atton turned to her once more, again unnerved by how comfortable he felt being this close to her, at how natural it felt, and how unquestioningly Eden remained there as she searched for words. Her eyes remained fixed on the duraglass this time, honing in on a hovering object now floating into view of the cockpit.

“Debris,” Eden said, her voice hoarse. “From… Malak. ”

The name sounded alien on her tongue, wrong. As if she’d never once uttered it before. Atton didn’t question it as his mind put the pieces together. Scorched matter slowly circuited the ship as it now hung in the planet’s orbit, no doubt the remaining aftermath of Darth Malak’s attack on Dantooine some years ago. Were it not for the planet now crowding the view, the vision was not that far off from the ruins of Peragus.

“Do you have any landing codes for us?” Atton asked, easing his grip on Eden though moving away from her none, regretting its inevitability whilst simultaneously recoiling from the contact as if he might soil her. Not that her soul was any cleaner than his. “Did your friends share anything useful?”

Eden nodded, eventually shaking her head as she looked down. She paused, as if examining their proximity and deciphering its meaning before backing slowly away. Eden only moved an inch out of Atton’s grasp, the resulting emptiness all the heavier for her closeness despite it. 

“They did, yeah,” she said. 

Eden shook her head again, all calm dissolving for a moment before the stillness returned to her; another look for the books. Atton mentally clocked her expression again, as if studying her like an animal, yearning to feel her weight against his again while also fearing it, unsure what might transpire should it happen again. 

Atton remained at the ready, prepared to catch Eden again if need-be while also awaiting her answer. 

You will not find blind obedience a difficult master. 

The need didn’t come, but there was satisfaction in the act of it. 

You chose it once. 

“You ready for the input?” Eden asked as if the last few moments hadn’t happened. 

“Ready whenever you are,” Atton nodded as he leaned over the controls, roused with absolute assurance.

You will learn to embrace it again. 

[thevioletcaptain]

⚡️🦇👻 Spooky Season Movie Recs 👻🦇⚡️

These are some horror (and horror-adjacent) movies I've watched or re-watched recently.

If it's on this list, it's because I had fun with it, whether that fun was derived from it being genuinely scary, kinda fucked up, visually impressive, funny as hell, just plain weird, or some combination of the above.

Late Night with the Devil (2023)

A live television broadcast in 1977 goes horribly wrong, unleashing evil into the nation's living rooms. Horror. 95 minutes.

I've been mentally referring to this one as The Tonight Show with Cousin Greg because somehow they made David Dastmalchian look like an aged-up Nicholas Braun. Despite this -- or perhaps aided by it -- this is one of my favorite horror movies I've seen this year.

Lisa Frankenstein (2024)

A misunderstood teenager and a reanimated Victorian corpse embark on a murderous journey together to find love, happiness, and a few missing body parts. Horror/Comedy. 101 minutes.

I've actually watched this three times since August. Kat Newton is a fucking delight in this role. Really feels like an instant classic to me.

It's What's Inside (2024)

A pre-wedding party descends into an existential nightmare when an estranged friend shows up with a mysterious suitcase. Sci-fi/Horror/Comedy. 105 minutes. Whoever wrote that logline should have taken another run at it, because it leaves out what I'm pretty sure is the main draw of the movie: it's a body-swap story. Except everyone swaps. Multiple times. Shockingly hetero considering the subject matter, but still fun.

Renfield (2023)

Having grown sick and tired of his centuries as Dracula’s lackey, Renfield finds a new lease on life — and maybe even redemption — when he falls for feisty, perennially angry traffic cop Rebecca Quincy. Comedy/Horror. 93 minutes.

This was everything I could possibly have wanted from a movie with Nic Cage as Dracula. It's goofy. It's gory. I had a ball.

Hold Your Breath (2024)

In 1930s Oklahoma amid the region’s horrific dust storms, a woman is convinced that a sinister presence is threatening her family. Horror/Psychological Thriller. 94 minutes.

As someone who experienced a dust storm as a child, this movie tapped into some long-buried fears, which is always a win in my book. Also, it has Ebon Moss-Bachrach aka Richie from The Bear in it. Double win.

#Alive (2020)

As a grisly virus ravages Seoul, a lone man stays locked inside his apartment, digitally cut off from seeking help and desperate to find a way out. Horror/Thriller/Action. 99 minutes.

Somehow this was written and wrapped production before the pandemic even started, and ended up being the most relatable zombie movie I've ever seen.

Additional movies under the cut!

I'll keep adding to this list over time, as well as my Letterboxd log now that I've remembered it exists, so definitely check back if you want more recs.

Don't Worry Darling (2022) Mystery/Thriller. 123 minutes.

The Night Eats the World (2018) Zombie/Horror. 94 minutes.

Longlegs (2024) Horror. 101 minutes.

more to be added here!

[moonlightandmarble]

Give Me The Night-Prelude Nocturnus

I posted this on AO3 under the same name but if you're allergic to the site or just want to read on tumblr here it is. Again this is part of an ongoing AU with @costumersupportdept

Desperate to save Vessel, III, and IV from Sleep's domination, II makes one last ditch effort and summons forth Night herself. Because who better to beat a god, than another god?

Prelude:

ii smoothed out a wrinkled and torn bit of aged paper with slightly shaking hands. The writing was barely legible in the dim light of his single candle, but that’s all he could allow for. He already was risking too much as it was, and he kept looking over his shoulder, almost certain at any moment that he would be found out. That the door would be wrenched open and he would be dragged kicking and screaming across the Beach and into the cold depths to be shredded apart by tooth and tentacle.

And that was if he was lucky. If he were unlucky then the punishment would be much harsher, and much more prolonged.

“I must be absolutely mental. Nothing is going to happen…but if nothing is going to happen, why am I about to piss myself in terror?”

He shuddered, and squeezed his eyes shut of the mental images that had been etched into his mind. The ones that played out over and over again whenever he tried to sleep. Vessel screaming wordlessly in the sea while ii was screaming himself, reaching out for him but too far away to help. And then there was nothing but blood, the tide churning and stained crimson. Vessel nowhere to be found.

As horrific as the images were they were a reminder as to why he was doing this. He was starting to lose count of how many times Vessel had died and washed up on the shore days later, but more and more lately when he came back he was…changed. More of his memories were missing, and it was taking longer for him to recover. It filled ii with dread, but also anger. And the anger was winning out against the fear he had of Sleep’s potential punishment for him. At least with IV and III away only he would get the blame if he were caught. But they wouldn’t be away for long, and he didn’t have any more time to waste.

He bent over the paper, squinting. He had gone over the words it felt like 1000 times already, but he wanted it to be perfect. He cleared his throat, stilled his thoughts, and in a voice barely above a whisper spoke the hymn,

“Nyx, parent goddess, source of sweet repose, from whom at first both Gods and men arose, Hear, blessed Kypris, deck’d with starry light, in sleep’s deep silence dwelling Ebon night! Dreams and soft case attend thy dusky train, pleas’d with the length’ned gloom and feaftful strain. Dissolving anxious care, the friend of Mirth, with darkling coursers riding round the earth. Goddess of phantoms and of shadowy play, whose drowsy pow’r divides the nat’ral day: By Fate’s decree you constant send the light to deepest hell, remote from mortal sight For dire Necessity which nought withstands, invests the world with adamantine bands. Be present, Goddess, to thy suppliant’s pray’r, desir’d by all, whom all alike revere, Blessed, benevolent, with friendly aid dispell the fears of Twilight’s dreadful shade.”

He sighed as he finished, before reaching out to pinch the wick of the single candle, casting the room into total darkness. What was done was done, and now he needed to wait.

The room was so quiet that the ocean tide sounded like it was a far off memory, and the sound of his own heart thudding in his chest became deafening. Still he waited.

And he waited.

And he waited a little more.

He heaved a great sigh of disappointment, “Great. Another failure, and now I’m sitting here in the dark talking to myself like an idiot. At least no one can see me making an ass of myself.” He stood up and reached blindly for a match to relight the candle, when a soft smoky voice spoke from directly behind him,

“Hello.”

His heart jolted and he nearly screamed, just managing to stop himself by clamping a hand over his own mouth as he whipped around to look behind him.

The wall behind him was dark of course, just as the rest of the room was, but somehow not as dark as the shadow that was stretching up it, moving like liquid and shaping itself into a vaguely human form, two lights like distant stars where the eyes should be. The shadow began to solidify, taking on the shape of a tall woman crowned with lyre-shaped horns, inky wings stretching out behind her before reshaping themselves into a velvety cloak. Now that she was becoming more…physical…he saw her eyes were reflective like a cats, and she yawned, revealing a mouth filled with too many teeth, sharp ones that that. He slowly lowered his hand from his mouth as he looked up at her, and it took everything in him to not turn and bolt as she took at step towards him,

“Why have I been summoned?”

He stammered, all the different versions of how he would speak to her that he had played out in his head vanishing in a puff of panic, “Ah w-well, you see my friend he u-uh, well it started when…um…”

She leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing as she sniffed at him, and he immediately froze like a prey animal.

“Something…smells familiar on you"

"S-smells… smells familiar?"

"Like someone I knew before…a very long time ago. Who is this friend of yours?"

"I just…He.. I know him as Vessel? He’s tall? Broody? He’s-he’s got a white and red mask, he was already here when I first arrived and he was sort of feral when we met and didn’t even remember how to speak but-um-”

Her head tipped, eyes still narrowed.

"He’s a brilliant singer? Emotionally tortured? Um…six eyes?”

Her head lifted and her eyes widened slightly, "A singer?”

ii swallowed but felt relieved at the slightly more positive response, “Ye-yeah. Yeah, he’s got a really beautiful voice.”

She hummed, whispering half to herself, “Perhaps a distant relative…and you summoned me because of this Vessel, why?”

"I… I…", ii presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and takes a big shuddery breath, "He's gotten himself entangled with another deity- to Sleep. Vessel, he's not-he's not doing well. Sleep's been using him as a mouthpiece but I think Vessel's… well, he's getting worn down. He's trying to do more thinking on his own, but then he feels guilty, and then there's turmoil and Sleep gets angry with him and there's…. there's a lot of blood. And Sleep has realized now that if he tortures the rest of us - there are two more of us, I sent them on an errand so I could try this - but if he tortures us then Vessel's more likely to give in to what Sleep wants because he feels bad about inflicting all of that on us but I can just see him going more and more-sort of transparent around the edges. And I-I just-I love him a lot and I want him to be okay again. I want him to…I want him to be able to live"

As the words all tumbled out of him he felt hot tears burning behind his hands, his voice coming out in a choked sob, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Everything else I’ve tried has failed and every time he comes back he remembers less and I’m not trying to cause you offense but I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m scared I’m making things worse please just-“

There was a quiet “Shhhshhhshhh”, and a warm hand on his shoulder gently squeezing. He looked up blearily, and saw that Night was looking at him with a gentle smile. Her purple irises regarded him kindly, and he could see that her skin was flecked with silver, making her look like clear sky at midnight.

“I understand well wanting to protect those you love. What you want is very noble. Of course I will help you, in whatever way I can.”

ii blinks at her, "You will? You will. Oh god," he wobbled to his knees and breathed audibly, pressing his face into his hands and rocking a little."Thank you, holy shit, thank you. I'll do whatever you need me to do, I just want to see him stop hurting all the time. Whatever sacrifice I have to make, I'm willing, anything you want to demand of me, thank you, please, just, I want him to be okay."

Night put a hand under one of his arms, helping him to his feet. She was strong, very strong, but still gentle, "It's obvious you care a lot about your loved ones, and things must be truly desperate in order for you to call upon one such as me. Here, come, let me help you sit down. Light your candle and tell me more of Sleep and eat of this…this-”, she tipped her head as she examined a plate that he had left out on the table, “-well it's some sort of food you appear to have placed as an offering but I am unsure of what it is exactly?"

ii smiled weakly, "Oh, it's um, it's a Jaffa cake. IV loves them. I wasn't sure what you would want, or need? Is there something I can…offer you now that you're here?"

Night picked up the cake, sniffing it curiously before taking a delicate bite. As ii watched expectantly she perked up, looking at him and smiling, "It's very good. No no. This is…much better than a burnt sheep. You'll have to excuse my rudeness…it's been…a very long time since anyone has called upon me. I have heard a little of the modern world but a lot is still unfamiliar to me. So I suppose I would ask that you teach me of it. Over time, of course"

Ii rubbed his hands together between his knees, “Unfortunately, time may be what we don’t have a lot of”, he fumbled with the matches before lighting his candle, “Um, so we’re part of a band and we’re about to go spend half a year performing all over the world.” He sighed, “Initially I think it might have been Vessel’s idea, because like I said, amazing singer. What better way to get Sleep’s message to people? But I think now he’s started doubting more and more and writing songs I don’t think Sleep likes…but Vess- he’s too stubborn to stop performing them, and we’re about to be dropped in the middle of normal humanity to do this and -god- I just don’t know how it’ll go if he already seems ready to just disintegrate half the time.”

She squinted as the candle was lit, but then ate another bite of the Jaffa cake, considering, "So that I understand correctly: you summoned me to defeat Sleep in order to save the one you love. But first we must go on this…tour…among regular humans. And obviously I wouldn't fit in among you so you need me to remain hidden but available for the next time Sleep attacks your Vessel? Yes?”

ii dropped his head back into his hands, "Yes? I guess? I-I don't know what I was thinking as far as a gameplan…just that I was a little desperate and I knew that the safest time to try this was when Sleep had him and I could convince III and IV to go-", he cut off and looked up in wide-eyed terror, "Fuck. FUCK!". He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed her hand in his, "He's back, he's on the beach, you have to stay here I don't know if Sleep can see you or-" he waves a hand "-feel you or anything, but I have to go get him and if Sleep knows I've done this he's going to tear him into pieces in front of me and I don't…. I can't-", his lip quivers and Night curls her lip in the direction of the Beach. She turned back to him, “There's one way for me to hide but I need your consent. He can't feel me if I'm hiding within another body."

II blinked at her for a second and then squeaked "In me?"

Night nodded, "Yes. I promise it won't hurt"

II looked towards the direction of the Beach again, clenching his fists, before looking back at her and nodding, “Do it.”

Night turns back into ebon mist, before sinking into his skin, "Now go, save your friend"

II didn’t pause to consider how weird this was, instead immediately turning and throwing the door open, sprinting for the unmoving black lump that was laying on the tideline. He dropped to his knees in the soaked sand behind Vessel and pulled his head up onto his thigh, getting his face out of the rising tide. He held him there with one arm as he started checking for major injuries with the other, talking to him, urging him back to consciousness, "You're okay, you're okay, I've got you, c'mon back. You're Home. Are you with me, Vess? You're safe now, you're not with Sleep, c'mon"

Vessel lurched as he tried to take a breath, breaking into a violent cough that led to him choking up a thick, cold, black blob. II rubbed between his shoulder blades, holding him sideways so he could get all of the black muck out of himself and into the water.

"There you go, okay, I got you, get it all out, I know it's gross”, he let Vessel convulse it out before cradling him, rocking gently as he waited for his limbs to start working again, "We'll get you back in the cave and warm when you get your legs back, III's not here and I don't want to drag you if I don't have to."

Vessel managed to croak out, “…where?”, blindly pawing at and clutching onto II, before blinking around wildly like a spooked animal.

II pet his head like he was comforting a frightened child, “You’re on the Beach, Sleep’s not here, I’ve got you, sweetheart. Get your legs working and we’ll get you back in the cave next to the fire with all the blankets I can-JESUSFUCK-”, he doubles over Vessel as something lurches in his chest, his heart feeling like it was trying to rip it’s way out of his ribcage, and for a split second he thinks to himself that Sleep has caught him and he’s about to die.

Almost as soon as it happens however, it stops, and he hears Night’s voice in his ears, "I-I’m so sorry.”

II manages a deep breath, “What was that for?!”

Night’s voice sounded shaken, and even as she tried to reassure II it made him feel all the more worried, “It’s…it’s nothing. I’m sorry. I will explain later. Let’s just, get him back into the cave. I could carry him for you?”

He shook his head, trying to not drop the barely-there Vessel back into the water, “No, no you need to stay hidden. He could come back and for all I know he may have already figured out what I did.” He shifted Vessel around as gently as he could, before getting an arm under him, “C’mon big guy, both legs, here we go,” he staggers them both to standing and starts coaxing Vessel across the sand, one dragging step at a time.

Vessel mumbled, "So cold…no sounds…"

II stroked down his back as he shuffled him forward, “I know, sweet boy, you’re back now. Let us get off the beach and I promise you tea and blankets and you can cuddle me for as long as you like, I swear.”

Night’s voice was like a little moth softly fluttering by “…how many times has this happened?”

II sighed, "I’ve…lost count. I don’t know, once every couple of months? Sleep just sort of appears, there's some sort of discussion, sometimes he leaves Vessel alone, sometimes he picks him up and takes him somewhere, sometimes he ah…. shows his displeasure more overtly? But any time Vess…. goes away….. he eventually reappears on the tideline like someone's dumped him out of the back of a cosmic panel van." II hung his head a little as he trudged Vessel through the sand, "I'm terrified that someday he…. won't, that he'll just be… gone."

"Does he ever speak to the rest of you?"

"Who, Sleep? Not in so many words. He ah…uses Vessel? Sometimes to try to keep us in line- he dropped him in the water once and made me- Shhshhh, it's okay, we're almost there" he patted Vessel's back again as he started to falter. "-he made me watch him um… bleed out in the water…. without being allowed to go help once, after he saw my first round of research, and that was…not great." He blinks hard against the scene of blood and screaming, before finally shuffling Vessel through the main opening of the cave he and the others called home. He gets him propped into a pre-made nest of pillows and blankets in front of the fire, pulling off his wet clothes and rubbing at his clammy limbs before wrapping him up again in the blankets, kissing him on the cheek. "Vess, you with me? Tea or cuddles first? III and IV should be back eventually so you can still get tea if you want to hold onto me for a while, it may just not be as fast."

"I…wish I could say I'm surprised, but…I have come across Sleep's kind before. They are…quite cruel". Her voice sounds like it's on the verge of breaking as she speaks, and she goes quiet.

Vessel lays still, panting and pale before clutching onto II’s wrist so hard that it almost hurt, "D-don't leave, please."

II kissed him on the forehead, "Oh baby, okay, no leaving. C'mere, sweet boy, you're alright, time to get warm." He adjusted himself until Vessel put his face into his neck and curled up around him, shaking and curling his fingers into his clothes. II looked up, trying to blink away the tears that were threatening to fall, "I’m here, I'm not going anywhere. Rest now, you're back, you're warm."

He sat quietly with Vessel, waiting for the shakes to subside, and as he did Night spoke up once again."I can feel how much you love him. I promise I'll do everything in my power to help you. The promise of a god isn’t lightly given. "

II closed his eyes and shuddered slightly, the tears leaking out around the edges, "Thank you. I'll do anything you want, I promise, any-any debt that needs paid, I'm willing. Whatever it takes. I don’t care."

"You owe me nothing. There is no debt. I want to help you, to help him. I…thought because I smelled someone familiar to me on you and because of the hymn that this was…some sort of trick. But I think I understand now…", II felt her shift slightly in his chest, "Do you…believe in Fate?"

II wiped at his eyes with his fingers. "I don't-I think I don't understand, Fate? I promise I wasn't trying to trick you, I might have gotten something wrong in the translation, but it wasn't intentional."

There was a long pause before Night spoke again, "A very very long time ago I had someone I loved very much as well. He was…taken from me. There was nothing but ashes and bone when I found him. It was as if my very heart was being torn to shreds. When he was taken from me-when he died-it was if a part of me…died with him".

II kissed Vessel's forehead again, softly, lingering to make sure he was sleeping soundly. "I'm sorry…I…think I understand that feeling more than I'd like to."

"He also sang, and wrote poems. I did not ever imagine I would ever hear his voice again except in my dreams. So when we were on the Beach and I heard him speak…it was as if my heart stopped. Your Vessel and my Aneirin…are the same somehow."

II felt his chest clench, only it wasn’t Night that was causing it this time, "I don't… I don't understand…he was here when I got here. He was almost feral, there was nobody else here with him and he was terrified to touch me, it took him weeks to not startle when I talked to him. He-he was so broken.”

And yet, he thought to himself, didn’t Vessel say that Sleep could change things on a whim? and often did? He had seen Vessel die and come back, over and over again. Sleep would do it for any reason, even if it was just to show that he could. Would it be all that unbelievable? It’s not like Vessel could remember where he had come from. None of them really could. At least not wholly.

Night continued, "His death was…traumatic. Horrible and painful and cruel. He had been made a sacrifice to a sun god of a pantheon that revels in blood and agony. They care not for humans except as playthings. When you first told me Sleeps name, I recognized it. He is a part of that pantheon. Although that of course, isn’t his true name."

And that was another thing Vessel had mentioned, that Sleep’s real name wasn’t pronounceable to the human tongue. That he was old, older than humanity and the mountains and maybe even older than the Earth itself.

II stroked the side of Vessel's face, sighing, "Oh Vess, what did you get yourself in the middle of? This is so much bigger than you ever let on, if you even knew, and I don't know if I can untangle all of this without making it worse."

"From what you told me, it’s very unlikely he knew. Sleep would likely have made sure he wouldn’t remember anything”, she made a soft hum, “Three thousand years…oh how I have sought you out in the stars, hoping beyond hope that somehow we would meet again. That you would be reborn. But I never, thought of this.”

II sat dumbfounded, "Three-three thousand years?! He's that old? How is that even possible?"

“You know Sleep is capable of much, you have seen that for yourself. Time doesn’t work the same way for the divine. It is not linear like it is for mortals. It’s more like…a spiral. And for Sleep and his kind, it is even stranger, there is no past, no future…only existence and occurrence.

II blinked, trying to sort through everything going on in his head, "I-I guess I'm sorry? For everything that happened to him. To you. I'm sorry I had to-had to-drag you back together like this, especially when I have to keep you hidden. I’m so sorry. I just wanted-I just was so desperate-"

Night made that gentle shushing sound again, and he could almost feel her hand on his shoulder again, "Don't apologize, you've done nothing but try to save the ones you love. I am still with you, and I will stay with you as I promised. That will not change. Your name is…II? Yes?"

"He named me, I didn't really have a name I knew when I got here."“You’re no longer alone in this II. We will face what comes, together.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, suddenly exhausted, “Are-are you sure there’s nothing you want from me?”

She chuckles softly, “There’s no hurry, but I wouldn’t mind another one of those Jaffa cakes when the chance arises.”

[kurim-chis]

Why does Blade want to die so badly?

Is being immortal to the extent he is really such a bad thing? Xianzhou natives also eventually start losing the will to live but they have hundreds of years before living becomes stagnant, and Im sure Blade started seeking death very early on comparatively. Is he so disgusted by the concept of immortality that he wishes to just off himself? It’s hinted that when he first got on the ship that he zealously built weapons and stuff as if he didn’t have enough time, so wouldn’t becoming immortal be something he could - eventually - learn to control? Why just outright seek death?

Let me list out some possible reasons.

1) He abhors the loss of control as an abomination of abundance. Without Kafka’s spirit whisper, he’s just a mindless monster barely clinging to rare moments of lucidity and his pride won’t allow him to live like an animal.

2) He’s lost something that made him lose the will to live. Or had his belief broken. Perhaps he had accomplished what he sought out to do in Xianzhou and wanted to die, but was them turned into an immortal, which furthered his obsession with dying.

3) Past suffering still torment him endlessly. Kind of like how Avengers are forcefully reminded of the source of their hatred and rage so they don’t stop being an Avenger in FGO. For example, the pain Jingliu inflicted on Blade still haunts him and it serves to somewhat trigger his anger and violence.

4) Humans aren’t meant to understand what it meant to overcome death. The mara struck soldiers are just mindless tree/flower abominations, but even they can’t go farther than a second death unless they have a continuous source of abundance. The monsters that don’t die easily, like ebon deer, are just monsters. Perhaps being dragged back to life when he clearly felt death thousands of times has drove Blade insane. It warped his mental state and he just wants to get it over and done.

5) The abundance has wronged Yingxing personally in the past, he had a grudge against them which is why he went to research stuff with Imbibitor Lunae. Becoming one of the things he loathes just wasn’t it.

6) Self-hatred. Of the five, three have to pay a price. First is Dan Feng, second is most likely Jingliu, and if Jing Yuan isn’t it and the Foxian girl is not it, then the last one is Blade. They all committed an unforgivable act and yet they all are escaping the consequences of their sins by virtue of being immortals, and that goes against what Blade/Yingxing stands for. Blade loathes himself as much as he loathes Dan Feng and Jingliu. He will try to kill them for as long as he is alive. (Though clearly his death >>>> Dan Heng or Jing Liu’s death.)

why does bladie wanna die? idk

[reallyrandomtj]

👫 argenti and yaoshi >:)

Send 👫 and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship || ... No Longer Accepting !!

This will be about Argenti's Immortality AU because thanks Yaoshi, I have had BRAIN ROT for this that I've considered writing drabbles--

The blessing of immortality that Argenti endures is considered a 'sword and shield' method of the Abundance. The sword? The vines of iridescence that weave through his hair. The shield? The rose that wilts and buds in place of denying the Knight a TRUE death after receiving a fatal blow that should kill him.

( Continued from Above ) The vines aren't technically considered a helpful sword until they reach full maturity, for the first twelve months of the 'blessing' they are considered juvenile and focus mainly on healing Argenti's injuries before he regains consciousness - they dig themselves into his injuries to start the healing process. Once fully mature they will coil around his 'corpse' and strike anyone that attempts to touch Argenti until the death cycle is complete, the only exception is Yaoshi themselves, this behavior is very similar to the Ambrosial Arbor Branches of the Abundant Ebon Deer that cause enemies OUTRAGE.

Until the vines reach full maturity! Yaoshi will appear physically to assist in the healing process so Argenti isn't 'dead' for long. How did Yaoshi find him? The ROSE. Yaoshi senses when it is in danger of wilting but always arrives after it has become a bud.

( Continued from Above ) Once the vines reach full maturity, Yaoshi may not appear as often since by that time the Knight of Beauties body likely heals itself more quickly then when they were 'new' as the healing capabilities may depend purely upon Argenti actually fully accepting the blessing, both mentally and physically, so they can be at full power.

[falllpoutboy]

the nosy bitch in me is dying to know what the show creators and cast think of this mess. joanna calo follows deuxmoi so i assume she's aware of the shitshow. and what does ebon think? he got front row seats to backrub-gate, the og award season, and then later, the j&m horrorshow post-emmy's hang at the hotel. what does that man know???

i feel like ebon minds his business for the most part but he still probably mentally jots everything down bc ik i sure would 😭

[docgold13]

Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Hotstreak

Francis Stone was a vicious bully and a gang leader.  He seemed to hold particular animosity toward his classmate, Virgil Hawkins, whom he picked on mercilessly.  Indeed it was this bullying that led to Virgil's brief involvement with a rival gang so to garner protection from Francis.

With tensions boiling to an all time high, the various street gangs of Dakota converged on the dockyards for an all out brawl. In the midst of this conflict, Francis, Virgil and many others were exposed to the mysterious Quantum Vapor.   This bestowed the various individuals with metahuman powers.  Francis obtained pyrokinesis, the ability to generate and mentally control fire.  

Adopting a new alias as Hotstreak, he plagued the city of Dakota as a super villain and came into frequent conflict with Virgil (who had become the electrical superhero, Static).  Along with activities as a solo villain, Hotstreak also acted as a member of the Meta-Men, the Meta-Breed and periodically partnered with Ebon. Hotstreak and Ebon eventually turned on one another, fighting over a serum that could potentially amplify their powers. The battle resulted in an explosions aboard a boat and it remains unknown whether or not Hotstreak survived the ordeal.

Actor Danny Cooksey voiced Hotstreak with the villain first appearing in the series premiere of Static Shock.

[an-unholy-devotion-and-desire]

💘 call me Roman, Fiifi , Afia or Cupid ~ !! 💘

💫 she / he / fae / mink + any 💫 Alter/Part - Co-host of a system !

HOWDY! - im an alter n co-host 4 our system @infin8drip (main blog) - im a cherubim + succubus hybrid but i dont rly claim my more "corrupted" side of the spectrum or wtvr, im jus a zesty rebellious stupid ho LMAO (lightheartedly jokin dont take this srs pls i just play 2 much ). i do have shiftable forms that more "simpler" 4 others in the headspace, typically i look like this :p (warnin, this is the host old art n it's an old ass "selfies" of me in the middle, i will update the this lol also i typically like messin around w/ my hair. )

- (ALL art by this sytem) - tw warnin 4 the n slur up ahead on the 3rd pic (i can reclaim it.)

- i'm an OCtive + Mixoject of multiple sources! ( sources; The other host OC, Cupid, Angels, Cherubim (Media & biblical accurate), Lola Bunny , Minerva Mink) - My system job resume includes: internal self helper, sexual protector, ADHD, BPD, NPD, OCPD, hypersexual symptom holder - i'm mentally (i say 'mentally' bc truely i'm ageless but im an adult) early 30 yr old, in a 25yr old body ✌🏾 how do u do c: - I am nonhuman and may interact with nonhuman/alterhuman posts! i identify as ! : - pangenderfaer - Etherio/Etho/nonhuman boy - pan gaybian, - stemmetwink !(mostly femme) - turigirl ! - i'm wlw, wlm , mlm, nblm , nblw , nblnb !! - i'm partnered x10 /r & /qpr <3 ; by members in our/my system, n' our/my 2 system partners, so pls don't be fuckin weird ! c:

body wise also:

. - parent . - blk/indigenous (afro american geechee + blackfoot cherokee/creek/seminole) . - anemic . - intersex . - transneumascfem FTM Panfluid Maverique Boi . - C-DID . - got zat ✨ AuDHD ✨ . - OCD . - BP type i w/ psychotic features . - We have the deluxe, Cluster B special bein BPD, NPD w/ traits of ASPD, with a side of Cluster C's AVPD and OCPD, topped w/ traits of StPD 👨🏾‍🍳 🤌🏾 . - dancin w/ an unspecified ED

this blog's purpose is 2 just b my side of the internet, essentially. i reblog anythin angelcore, lovecore, coquette, 420 , fashion, early y2k, creepy cute, celebs, shows i like, shit from my culture, while talkin' abt social justices in my respected intersections! occasionally will sketch here 2 n show off my art :p tws: spirituality , suggestive content n probs +18 content under cuts , talks of trauma and ventin, hypersexuality n the highs n lows of it :')) , PDA ( i like gushin abt my boos <33 ) , possible religious imagery n weed mention. anythin else i haven't mentioned will still b tagged accordingly!

☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 ☝🏾 💢TAPS SCREEN☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢

BYF: - I reclaim the slurs/terms: nigga, retard, dyke, bulldyke, fag, sambo - speak in aave / ebonics unintentionally and intentionally. -I am a full time parent along side my partners, part time worker (soon will be attending college), trying to get support my partners/family out of a tough spot, so I'm always busy or stressed in some form. -Unless youre close to me and/or partners, do not call me "sis" or "shawty" even jokingly. that goes for the whole collective :/ THIS BLOG IS 18+ this is a no minor zone 4 my comfortability here! I block ageless blogs n anyone i think is weird or off puttin 4 me. Me n the block button r the realest definition of "bros b4 hoes" frfr

☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 ☝🏾 💢TAPS SCREEN☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢

DNI: PRO ZIONISTS, ANTISEMETIC, ANTIBLACK, ANTI NATIVE, ENDOS, PROSHIPPERS/COMSHIPPERS, DDLG/AGE KINK, RADQUEER , SAFEQUEERS, Labeled "DA/IRL" ( RECOVERING D-MISID's ARE FINE ) , OMEGAVERSE, TRANSID, ANTI-OTHERKIN/THERIAN, RTCA, ANTI RECOVERY BLOGS OF ANY KIND, TERFS, ANTI XENOGENDERS/NEOS, ANTI- MSPEC LESBIANS/GAYS, ANTI GOOD FAITH IDs ARE NOT WELCOME, . . Nor will I engage in discourse w/ it, unless its somethin i feel like I need 2 drop my two sense on somethin that i feel nobody may not have not touched on, or someone i care abt is publically involved. Other than that, i h8 gettin into discourse when the general public has already have made multiple points 2 counter a lot of misinformation w/ fax + its not always good for my health, nor the system's

Tag list:

# . 💘  .  | Preachin n servin the word   ( Spiritual uplifting talks)

# . 💘  .  | Divine creations ( Art or edits )

# . 💘  .  | Zealous Rebellion and Resistance ( Social activism ) # . 💘  .  | I'll just take the 85 2 Africa  ( Black excellence, Black Pride, Black history , anything blk related tbh ) # . 💘  .  | Before Genesis… ( Exomemories if i ever decide 2 talk abt them ) # . 💘  .  | Sorrows of the fallen ( Vents ) # . 💘  .  | Pierced by Cupid's Arrow <3 ( Partners tag <33 ) # . 💘  .  | Not safe 4 mortals ( NSFT )

# . 💘  .  | Sins of Wrath ( RANTS ) 

# . 💘  .  | Sins of Envy ( Narc lows vents ) # . 💘  .  | Sins of Greed ( Hoarding vents & talks , mentions ) # . 💘  .  | Sins of Lust (  Hypersexuality, Lewd talk, also NSFT ) # . 💘  .  | Sins of Pride ( me havin a narc high ) # . 💘  .  | Sins of Gluttony ( Hyperfixation tag ) # . 💘  .  | Sins of Sloth (Recreational talks; Weed and alcohol mentions )

graphics by: @/willsgraphics @/silkholland @/anitalenia @/dollywons userboxes by @/killerssideblog @/sysboxes

[townofcadence]

Muse Information - Dr. Salem Connor

Directory | Character List | Headcanons

Basic Information:

Full Name: Dr. Salem Connor

Nicknames: Salem, Dr. Connor, Little Raven

Age: ??? (looks 29)

Date of Birth: January

Nationality: ???

Accent: Vaguely European

Blood Type: None

Pronouns: He/Him, They/Them

Sexuality: Tired [Demi/Ace and Demi/panromantic]

Relationship Status: Single

Occupation: Private Practice Doctor and Self Practicing Necromancer

Physical Traits:

Height: 6’2” (188 cm)

Weight: 122 Lbs. (55.34 kg)

Eye Color(s): White

Hair Color(s): Black with white streaks

Notable Features: Dr. Connor is a tall man with fair skin, spiderwebbed by hairline white cracks. He has white eyes, and streaks of white through his long ebon hair which fades into shadowy mist at the ends, the degree varying by his mental state. He always looks tired, and usually has a blue-teal buttonup style that he favors, with a pair of dark slacks and black dress shoes with on the heel, as well as an obsidian carved skull somewhere on their person. When working, he wears a white-blue lab coat. Usually accompanied by his familiar, Nox, in some form

Nature: Distant, Aloof, Mysterious, Knowledgable, Considerate, Candid, Workaholic, Compassionate, Respectful, Experimental, Curious

Art Ref :