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strapinandstraponyourstrapons · 2 years ago

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really really appreciate this post bc discussing these characters in detail is what a lot of us come here for and you spoke to some thoughts shared by me! there is absolutely something so much more significant about the way theo betrayed the pack that makes their feelings against him make sense. not only that he tore them apart but in my opinion showing them some of the worst parts of themselves in the process. he opened wounds that may never close.

he abused liam's emotional disorder, forcing liam to confront the fact that he might be closer to killing someone he cares about than he had ever previously worried. he even broke trust between scott and stiles, the two inseparable best friends who have trauma bonded through hell and back. to find the insecurities in stiles of not being good enough and the suspicion in scott fucking mccall of all people for his best friend, and wrench those two things to the surface... theo done fucked them up. real bad.

the last straw with season five theo, at least for me, is what he does to lydia with so absolutely little regard for her humanity. it's beyond fucked up and it's supposed to be, because the veil has completely been lifted and we're left reeling in horror at this person that scott pretty much let into the pack.

that's where my opinion sorta diverges. because while the pack's attitudes towards theo, who is literally their abuser (love him, but he was) after everything are justified in my eyes, the skinwalker prison thing is a little intense. of course, it's teen wolf and it's probably stupid to think so deeply about it because they were improvising more than half this shit season by season, because that's tv babyyyy. to be honest, my issue with the treatment of theo's character in retrospect has to do with the way he is dehumanised in the eyes of the text, which is a complex thing to begin to get into because he's SUPPOSED to be dehumanised... until he's not.

let me backtrack.

cody christian in his interviews around season five era would always talk about making theo into a character who pushed everybody's buttons and made everybody fucking enraged at him. and that's apparent in the show itself as well. it seems that s5 theo, for the most part, is really a totally evil villain when you get down to it, just that he masquerades as not being one first. and that depiction of him only changes in season six when the audience is let behind the veil to see him suffer and to see him make attempts to change.

it's different with argent or deucalion. they don't necessarily get redemption arcs, they just stop trying to kill scott and work with him instead, and that's enough. with theo, there is a need to compensate for how heartlessly he was depicted in the previous season before the audience can feel sorry for him. s5 theo is NEVER presented sympathetically when we learn anything real about him. whether it's tara's death or the knowledge that he's been with the dread doctors this whole time, we're not really offered the reading that he has suffered. he's described as the kid who would kill his sister at nine years old. we're basically led to believe that this kid was so inherently evil as a literal child that he couldn't possibly have suffered any worse than he deserved with the dreads because it seems like it SUITED him. and this is the reading offered because we are NOT supposed to feel sorry for s5 theo. he is a pretty one dimensional character when you peel back his layers. he is supposed to push our buttons and make us enraged and make us want somebody to do something about it already. he's the guy in old timey plays you would boo and throw your food scraps at when he appears on stage.

where this reading comes into conflict is with its audience, who happen to be professionals at practising empathy for "monsters" and know a broken boy when they see one. theo's return in s6, in my opinion, caters to a fan response demanding more moral ambiguity than any villain arc jeff davis can cook up on the fly. and this is where sending him to hell starts to look (to me, at least) not only excessively cruel, but just kind of a stupid plot device in hindsight. to be honest, my thinking when kira said the iconic line and smashed her sword into the ground, went something like:

"oh fuck yeah kira is being a badass and doing something to hurt this asshole, and he sucks and deserves it, woohoo, finally, yeeeeahhh haha... wait... what is... oh... did she just kill him?? what did she... it kinda looks like she just killed him. or worse? can she do that? oh... so we're not gonna establish what she just did to him, just gonna move right on from kira possibly executing a fellow teenager? scott have anything to say? no? just me? .....................yeah it's probably fine"

like you have to admit for the pack that doesn't kill anyone, kira running off to the skinwalkers (who can only be described as fae-like in alignment because you don't know what they're thinking or intending, basically ever, but you just know you get a sinister vibe more or less than half the time) and returning with a weapon of karmic justice or some shit that determines theo worthy of eternal damnation in a metaphysical prison of his own remorse, it's um.... an interesting twist, for sure.

(also just want to note that the way "karmic" is used in that sentence by me is based on the western appropriation of the concept of karma which is very much different to its original meaning, and apologies for that, but it seemed like the best term to express my meaning and also thematically correct to use given the sheer amount of blatant cultural appropriation by the shows creators in writing both kira and the skinwalkers)

like damn. the most they've done to anyone else in the past is like, physically disable them, which is already fucked up.

other than being kind of deeply unhinged when you think about it for more than a few seconds (like were they really gonna leave him in there for... ever??? did kira even know what exactly she did??? seems like they were content not to think about it (except for a certain beta who might need very much, after recent destabilisation in his sense of personal goodness, to believe that even monsters can be saved but that's another conversation)) it clearly serves an anticipated need in the audience to witness a satisfying demise of the character they, hopefully by that point, hate so much. and in my opinion they were very right to anticipate that, just chose to do it sooooo extremely weirdly. but eh. teen wolf.

where it runs into conflict is with our s6 reading of theo. when most of us start feeling squishy feelings for theo (other than practising enough empathy to feel a little bit sorry for how sad we imagine his past is, or how desperately we see him struggling for a pack even though he does it in an evil way and is literally a character designed for us to hate) it's in those moments we see him suffering. we see his remorse about his sister's death in his hell loop and we see him trying to live in his car, feeling so lonely that he doesn't mind a spider crawling on him, dealing with it all by himself when that spider c r a w l s under his skin (fucking ew), and still hesitating to call scott for help. what we're really seeing is him finally being humanised by the text. the reality is that he was suffering the whole time. he was having moments of weakness. he was terrified out of his mind. he was trying to escape his abusers and doing whatever he had to do to anyone else to get himself out of there. we just weren't shown, because we weren't meant to look at those parts of him.

s5 theo, if you extrapolate my logic, is treated by the writing the same way he's treated by the dread doctors. he is a monster, specifically designed to be evil and do bad things until he meets his end and probably fucking dies with nobody feeling sorry for him except people who have the hots for cody christian. it's his narrative purpose. this is what's complex about villains in fiction because villainy is subjective, and we are supposed to see things entirely from the pack's perspective where theo is an absolutely malicious, unfeeling, "less than human" being... until we're not. and then after that, it begins to feel more malicious in hindsight that he was ever presented so one-dimensionally. why was his humanity, his fear and suffering and struggle with what he did, not something he was allowed to express before? why were we only able to see him when he was playing the role of the monster?

it's not that deep because it's a bunch of probably burnt out creatives under a lot of time pressure to make a show interesting enough to be watched by a lot of people... except it kinda is. because empathy is my favourite human trait, and the way people exercise it in response to things like this is the fucking best!!! everything given to you by the text in season five plays on your empathy for the people theo hurts and pits you against him, and STILL most people at least spare a thought for what might have led theo to this point. season six feels like a reward for casting that empathy blindly at a nebulous unknown that may or may not deserve it, because we finally get our feelings vindicated by seeing the person hurting behind the caricature of evil. the amount of fics out there that explore this without minimising the abuse theo inflicted upon the different pack members and how it affected them is one of my favourite things about being in this fandom.

anyway.

...sorry? no idea what this post turned into. thank you for unknowingly prompting me to rant about my special interest for a bit. and for offering your perspective. it's always the best thing to see the different ways people interact with the same piece of media! hope you're having a great day🔥🖤🔥

Unpopular opinion:

What Theo did to the pack was worse than whatever Peter or any other villain did

Hear me out...

A lot of people talk about how Theo didn't deserve going to hell and that the pack forgave Peter and Deucalion (both of them tried to kill them more than once) but never truly forgave Theo and how it is not fair but I think they are forgetting that Theo didn't only try to kill them.

He planned the whole thing. He found every member's weakness and used it. He ripped the pack apart from the inside. He turned them all against each other and tried to take Scott's place as the Alpha. We don't really know what it did to the pack bonds.

Until Theo and even after him the pack could rely on each other. When Peter tried to kill them they had someone watching their backs. When Deucalion came along they could fight him off because they were together.

With Theo pulling the strings...

Theo killed his sister when he was nine years old and then spent a decade with the Dread Doctors, working for them, killing for them, bringing kids to them so they can turn them to chimeras. I think he was looking for the way out and he did so the only way he knew.

In the scene when Theo kills Scott you can see how much he hates the True Alpha. He is everything Theo never got a chance to be. He is a cheap knock-off of the supernatural creature, not even his heart is his own. He is a creature made from hate and rage and with his skills the pack couldn't just let him go. No one knows just how many packs he ruined before coming to Beacon Hills.

Don't get me wrong, I know the hell changed him. When Liam brought him back, it became clear that all he wanted to do was survive.

Scott couldn't save Theo because Theo would never let him. He resent him. In his eyes Scott was a do-gooder that didn't know anything about suffering.

Liam was the one who showed and taught him different ways. The beta with angry issues was one of the few people from the pack that knew how it feels to have the beast crawling at your skin and still chose to be good. So, Theo learnt.

I think that the pack forgave Theo eventually. Maybe it took years after the war or maybe he was forgiven even before Monroe fled Beacon Hills but I don't think they ever truly trusted him again. In their eyes he will always be a wild card. They don't know anything about his time with the Doctors and I think they don't even want to ask. Theo might become a pack ally, maybe even part of the pack, but he will never be truly trusted because what he was capable of doing and probably still is capable of doing and just chooses not to, makes him unreliable.

I hope this makes sense...

#teen wolf #theo raeken #thiam #teen wolf headcanons

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

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Having asked your thoughts on designing Frankenstein's daemon, might I now ask your thoughts on bringing Count Dracula from the written word into illustration? (I'm definitely in favour of the 'Hairy Old Mountain Man of Horror pretending he's people' look from the original novel; one of the small tests too many Draculas fail to pass is an absolutely tragic lack of the Evil Beard and/or Wicked Moustache explicitly described by Mr Stoker).

Unlike with Frankenstein, where I think the design needs to be painstakingly thought out in order to achieve the best balance of the creature's traits for horror and tragedy alike, I think with Dracula you can actually just take an approach of "whatever works". Because as I mentioned before, I think much of the appeal and longevity of Dracula is how the character's both a layered villain as well as a shapeshifting narrative force that can be tailored to whatever you want to do with. Granted, there are bad or dissappointing Dracula designs, of course there are, but in regards to the leeway you get for reinterpretation, you get a lot more of it with Dracula than with other literary icons.

Like with Frankenstein, I'm gonna bring up how I'd tackle a less grim, more comedy-centric Dracula first, one that's less a force of horror and more of a charismatic villain, and I think to that end I definitely agree that people are sleeping a lot on the hairy old man barely-passing-off-as-humanoid of the original story. Despite very much loving these performers, I'm actually not a fan of takes that mold Dracula too closely to people who've portrayed him, like Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee, partially because I think it's a waste of an opportunity to create your own Dracula design. Since I can't draw (yet), I'll do what I usually do and make a board of images to try and convey some of my thoughts on one way I'd design Dracula.

(Pictured: Kiwi's design for Dracula, Hotel Transylvania concept art, Nandor, Castlevania Dracula, Charles Dance in Dracula Untold, Vladislav, a Transylvanian rug)

I used the images in my other Dracula post and I’ll post it here again because I absolutely adore @kiwibyrd's designs for Dracula and it's main heroes, in particular I love the way it strikes a good balance at making sure Dracula looks distinctly separate from the humans, but not too much that he couldn't conceivably operate in society as just a harmless old man. I also adore the mustache and bushy eyebrows and pointy ears and I think these three are wonderful features to keep on any Dracula design. I'm also very partial to the Hotel Transylvania concept art, even if it makes me incredibly depressed to look at all the great designs they had for Dracula that they threw in the trash because they somehow decided making him look like Adam Sandler was the idea to go with.

I deeply adore What We Do In The Shadows, both the movie and the show, and Jemaine Clement's Vladislav is one of my favorite (maybe even my actual favorite) on-screen Draculas. But I also enjoy Nandor just as much, and I think it's really great that as a character he's completely different from Vlad while also being ostensibly a take on Dracula, and in particular I bring up his Jersey look because "Dracula in common clothing" is a criminally underrated concept for a joke.

As a character, I'm very partial to comedy takes on Dracula that play him up as a decadent aristocratic supervillain, the kind that can get away with talking in third person. I also have this idea for a version of Dracula who dresses ostentatiously in finely-broidered Romanian or Transylvanian patterns, maybe even wearing a rug as a cape, claiming that he's carrying the legacy of his people on his back. And of course he's lying, he's not Vlad Tepes and he's not even Romanian, he is just a parasite pretending to have a history to be proud of, but good luck getting him to admit that. And finally, I'd like this version to be played by Charles Dance, and I consider it a tremendous crime against humanity that he has yet to play Dracula proper even despite being in a film with the character's name on the title.

So that's kinda how I would design a take on Dracula for something more comedic or more based around him as this guest character and personality on-set. Now, if we're talking a more serious version, I think the possibilities increase, and I won't be getting into all of them because I may prefer to keep them to myself, but I'll elaborate a few ideas.

For example, the edition of Dracula I personally own comes with these really scratchy, really creepy B&W illustrations related to the story, that I can't find scanned online so I'm uploading them here so you can look at. They don't necessarily depict the scenes but rather some of the story's moments, like Van Helsing staking Lucy, Renfield in a straightjacket, Dracula as a coachman, and they are more focused on conveying the horror of the concepts at play.

Dracula never looks the same way in any of the illustrations, in fact you kinda have to piece him out of them by trying to find teeth or capes or eyes or bat-features to see where he's hiding this time. In the first, it's the half-man half-bat, in the 2nd, he's the shrieking bat silhouette next to Renfield, and in the latter, he's the gaping jaws and eerily humanoid eyes in the wolf. The effect to me almost feels like if you were to look at a bunch of tv static and then see a humanoid shape form for a split second before everything went back to normal, something like you'd get from Slender Man or other modern creepypastas, and I’ve argued before that Dracula’s form of horror is a very modern one.

In terms of illustrations of Dracula that keep up the original traits while still pulling off horror, I definitely have to hand it to the one at the left of the image above, drawn by regourso on Deviantart (account deleted at present). Going back to Castlevania’s many takes on Dracula, two in particular that stick out to me would be Castlevania: Judgment’s armored dress Dracula, who’s got this great twisted heart/rose motif going on in his outfit, and Dracula’s final form in SOTN where he just sits in his throne and his cape twists into all these monsters, particularly how it’s depicted by witnesstheabsurd’s depiction.

I’m not particularly a fan of how Dracula’s “final form” in these games is usually just some big demon, and part of what I like about his final form in SOTN instead is that, while it’s not a particularly challenging final boss, I do find it interesting the idea of us never actually getting to see what Dracula’s true final form looks like, only an ever-shifting pitch-black torrent of teeth and claws and bloody veins pouring out because that’s ultimately what Dracula is and brings to the world.

On the flip-side of the rotten old monster, we have the charming seductor Dracula, and while I’m really not a fan of how various adaptations have convinced people that “the point” of Dracula is that he’s a seductive force and an allegory for Victorian xenophobia and I’m reeeally even less of a fan of adaptations that make Dracula some misunderstood tragic hero (and I think I’ve made rather violently clear my feelings on interpretations that play up a romance between him and Mina), that the seductive force part exists is impossible to deny, so conversely, while on one hand we can have Dracula as the gargantuan whirlwind of predatory violence, we can also go for Dracula as the tantalizing lover.

I’ve seen a lot of opinions proclaiming Frank Langella as the best Dracula because he was the best at actually being seductive while still playing Dracula, although I haven’t yet seen his performances. If I had to point at one picture I look at and do buy for a second the idea of Dracula as a romantic character, it would be that particular still of Raul Julia in the left of the above image. And it’s strange for me to think of Raul Julia as attractive because I mainly associate him with his brilliant comedy performance of M.Bison (I know it’s far from the highlight of his career but, look, I grew up with Street Fighter, I can’t help it) but those eyes are definitely looking pretty convincing to me, if nothing else.

And I’ve included this still of Sebastian Stan in the right because, during a conversation between me, @krinsbez and @jcogginsa about who could be a good fit for Dracula, jcog suggested Sebastian Stan, partially because he’s Romanian, and I’ve learned recently that Stan was actually interested in playing the character in Blumhouse’s upcoming remake. And you’d think I’d hate this idea considering how much I don’t care for tragic anti-hero Draculas, but who says that’s what he’d have to play?

Do you have any idea how much actors, who are traditionally known for heroic or supporting roles, usually LOVE it when you give them a chance to cut loose as the main villain?

I’d want Sebastian Stan to put all of his charm, all of his talent, all of his good looks and etc, into playing the absolute most vicious, bloodthirsty and irredeemable Dracula put on screen. Someone who is exceedingly, eerily good at being a lovable protagonist, who’s all smiles and charming eyes and politeness mannerisms and maybe even a funny accent, and then it isn't as funny when he's flying through your window intent on kidnapping babies to feed to his brides, except he may take a moment or two to do so because he's feeling pretty hungry himself right now.

Now, admittedly this is kind of a lot to juggle in regards to a single character, which is why my answer for questions like these inevitably has to be “depends on what I’m going for”. That being said, if I was going to try and cast someone who I think could both look the part of Dracula, as well as respectively, play “cartoon aristocrat” Dracula, “mercurial embodiment of evil” Dracula, as well as realistically be an attractive, even seductive performer who can charm viewers even as the character descends into horrible villainy, and juggle these performances even?

I think I’d have to go with Mads Mikkelsen. Not specifically because of Hannibal (I actually haven’t watched it yet), although it’s definitely a factor, the thing that actually made me pick him specifically is, other than his looks, his voice, his reputation for playing sinister characters, the fact that he loves the role and wants to play it, or how many people are deeply in love with this man, or that people already joke that he looks like a vampire, was watching him in Another Round, and specifically that glorious final scene where he’s just dancing to his heart’s content and just, moving with such spring in his step and such joyful vitality even though he’s past his mid-fifties, and that was the moment where, in regards to how much you all love this man, I went

And now I am going to add “casting Mads Mikkelsen as a dancing Dracula” to The List of Reasons Why I Became a Filmmaker.

#replies tag #dracula #horror tag #bram stoker #charles dance #sebastian stan #mads mikkelsen #castlevania #raul julia #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #vladislav #nandor

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ackerlert · 4 years ago

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Sneaky Link

Pairings: Porco x fem reader x sugar daddy!zeke

Summary: University reader becomes Zeke’s sugar baby after meeting each other at her work, which is a stripper, ofc. Eventually develops a relationship with Porco Galliard, of whom Zeke employs ;)

TW: alcohol usage, oral (m / f receiving), food (icing) play, mirror sex, phone sex

You needed some money during college, and tutoring stupid high schoolers wasn’t making the bills. Plus, you couldn’t put up with their slowness one second longer.

When Sasha took you out for a night at the strip club to relieve some stress, her joke that you could always make bank shaking your ass for old men actually sounded quite appealing. It was a lot more fun than tutoring, anyways.

Out of curiosity, you found yourself browsing the internet for openings at nearby nightclubs. Soon you were watching YouTube videos of strippers going through their daily routine, counting their tips, and describing their success in the industry. You were hooked.

You ask Hitch to take pole dancing lessons with you, and she doesn't suspect any of your true intentions, since this was on your bucket list of things to do together.

Soon you secured yourself a job at a local strip club. The first person you confided in was, unsurprisingly, Hitch. She was surprised you actually pursued being a stripper, but the shock didn't really last for long considering her knowledge of your freaky tendencies.

Hitch advised you to be careful, and she was particularly worried about how you would manage to fit this new job into your tight school schedule.

It was simple: you would take your classes, do your assignments, and report to your job at night. You’d work through the closing shift and get back to your shared apartment with Mikasa, Sasha, and Hitch sometime past 2am.

Zeke is a regular.

He gives you larger tips than any of the other girls.

He even pays for private sessions, which consist of you dancing for him mostly an hour at a time.

Eventually you two fuck it out in a booth of the club.

He asks if you'd like to “do this again sometime”. Naturally, you agreed. He exchanges phone numbers with you and asks for your cashapp.

Blushing because you didn't realize he intended on compensating you for your arrangement, you agree to give him your account number.

You and Zeke continue this for a couple months, growing more addicted to the orgasms he gives you every time.

You had two generous sources of income now.

You found out a lot about zeke: he owned a decently large company, fucked a lot of women before he met you, and he was even more freaky than yourself.

One day after a session with Zeke, you're sprawled out on the side of his bed, toying with the golden hair that trailed down his torso, and staring up at the ceiling, mind completely fucked out.

“I have a business event coming up soon,” Zeke states.

You hum in approval, not expecting zeke to continue on.

“It’s plus one.” He pauses, “I was wondering if you would like to join me.”

You turn your head to look at Zeke, almost asking him to repeat himself. Was this like a date thing?

Zeke turned to look at you too. His eyes glossed over at the sight of your surprised face and post-sex hair floating around the crown of your head. He smirked, visualizing the way he had made that sex hair. Gripping your h/c locks and pulling your head back, pounding into you from behind.

Your lips were swollen from being stretched around his thick cock, making him cum round after round. Now they were parted, unsure as what to make of his question.

Zeke repeated himself, “Are you free next Saturday?”

“Y-yes. I’m free.” You said, “I would love to go to your work thing with you.” A smile graced your lips. He fucking loved that smile. Loved seeing it bloom on your face when your eyes rolled to the back of your head, begging to take more of his cock.

“Alright,” he grabbed for his phone, pulling up the information from his calendar. Your phone dinged, no doubt zeke sending you over the event details. “It’s formal attire. Do you need to buy something to wear?” He glanced up lovingly from the screen at you for a mere second. “Fuck it, never mind that.” His eyes reconcentrated back onto the phone. Your phone dinged again, the familiar melody of the cashapp notification filling your ears.

“Let’s take you shopping, princess.” His legs swung over the side of the bed. A back completely full of endless scratches faced you while he stretched those long arms of his. His back muscles rippled as he did so, the sight making your stomach flutter with butterflies.

“Wait!” You say desperately and propping yourself up on the bed. You didn't intend on opening your mouth, but now you had to commit to it.

Zeke side glanced at you, acknowledging your pathetic request.

“Let me suck you off one more time,” you said. You added, “before we go.” A husky chuckle escaped from zeke’s throat. “Such a slut for me.” “What a good girl, knowing just the way to make me hard.”

Porco and you meet each other at the business event, it’s an instant click. He’s employed by Zeke. Soon you're exchanging numbers with him.

These business parties became more frequent with Zeke. And every time, Porco was there. You two would sneak off to help yourself to drinks while Zeke was bombarded with potential buyers inquiring about his product.

Porco makes you laugh so much. Honestly, it’s probably the alcohol, but every joke he cracked earned a cute giggle from you. It only made him harder for you than he already was.

“I could go a lot longer than him, you know.” He whispers in your ear.

Sooner than later you’re texting Zeke that the alcohol was killing your stomach, and you just had to get out of there right away.

Porco didn’t wait to stick his strong hands in your pants when you tumbled into the taxi.

“Gonna take you away from that old man’s dick, yeah baby? Give you this big cock like you deserve?”

You make it back to his large apartment, practically humping his clothed leg on the elevator ride.

By the time you’re inside his place, your panties are soaked and the black lace Zeke bought you is falling from your shoulders.

Porco throws you on the bed, not leaving you any time to remove your heels.

He climbs over you and just starts completely obliterating you with open mouthed kisses across your collarbone.

You don't fail to notice the mirror above Porco’s large bed, seeing the way he straddles over your small body.

Porco sits up from his position on the end of the bed and grabs for your ankles, yanking you closer to him. Just as he hums into your folds, a buzzing emerges from your purse in the middle of the living room.

“Shit,” you say, recognizing the pattern as Zeke’s contact. “It’s Zeke,” you groan.

“Answer the phone, pretty girl.” Porco says with a devilish smirk.

“Wha-?!” Your face fills with terror.

“I said answer the phone.” Porco grows stricter in tone.

“O-ok” your hands shake as you make your way across the floor to where your purse was.” As you accept the call, Porco motions you back to the bed.

You nod, doing as he says.

“Hey princess,” Zeke says with a smile on the end of the phone.

“Hi,” you say shakily. Porco gives you a menacing look.

“Not feeling good?” Zeke refers to your text.

You let out a shy “Nuh-uh” in response.

“I’m sorry baby,” Zeke says, “I can pick you up so you can spend the night with me in case you feel any worse.”

“No!-“ You say startled, “I mean, no, my girlfriends have me all bundled up back at my apartment.”

Silence from Zeke.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad.” He adds, “I wanted to make you feel a little better than they could tonight.”

You look at Porco, a little intimidated by his intense stare on you. He can hear Zeke’s toying with you from the other end of the phone. He nods, urging you to play along.

You giggle softly, a bad attempt at sounding sicker than usual.

“Really? How so?” Porco slides down the edge of the bed, focused on your legs.

Zeke clears his throat, obviously getting off at the anticipation of phone sex.

Some shuffling is heard on the other end of the phone before Zeke says, “You know, maybe cook you some food. That layered strawberry cake you like yeah?”

You hum in satisfaction, but quickly noticed how your approval angered Porco.

He aggressively pushes your legs apart, eyeing your wetness.

“Use that icing on you.” Zeke says, “Make you filthy when I run it over that pretty body of yours. I’d fucking lick it off you because you taste so good.”

Porco starts to kitten lick between your folds, earning a whimper from you.

You imagine Zeke piping the vanilla icing onto your torso as he pushes himself into you, smearing it across your breasts and stomach with his rough hands.

The pressure between your legs rises as the licks grow longer and rougher across your clit. Porco suckles on that bundle of nerves, and you can’t help but cry out a moan.

The sounds from Zeke’s side of the phone indicate he’s jerking off vigorously at this point. “Say my name, kitten.”

You look wildly down at Porco, who stops his motions to shake his head at you. No way he’d let you moan another man’s name on his own bed.

“Daddy,,” you drawl out. You earn approval from Porco, who resumes lapping at your pussy.

Porco taps your thigh, indicating to you that it was time to hang up on Zeke, who hadn’t cum yet.

“Oh gosh, Zeke baby” you start, “One of the girls is coming in i have to go-“

“Wait, y/n-“ but you didn't let him finish. You sigh with relief knowing you can fully indulge in Porco now. He grips your thighs roughly, leaving bruises to be discovered tomorrow.

“What’s Zeke doing now, huh?” “Pumping his weak cock thinking about this tight little pussy of yours?” “I wonder what he’d think if he knew your pussy was taking my tongue so well right now. Acting like such a whore for somebody else.”

Porco pulls himself off of your sweaty body, panting and licking up your wetness.

His eyes are dead set on you, and you felt small under his glare. His hands grab under your arms, quickly flipping your positions. “Bounce on me for it,” he growls.

You nod eagerly, situating yourself above him. Your face reddens as you align your entrance up to him, nervous about his judgement.

Porco softens, noticing your hesitance, “It’s okay baby girl,” His warm hands caress the side of your cheek, thumb grazing your plump lips, “You’re doing really good,” Porco looks earnestly up at you, flashing you a soft grin. You press into his hold on you, strands of hair covering your forehead that tangled around Porco’s fingers.

You finally push yourself down on Porco’s length, his large girth stretching you full. Porco moans at the new feeling, and you can’t help but whimper at the burning pleasure. Your hands roam around Porco’s strong torso, feeling down his thick abs and rubbing circles into his sides. A low groan emits from his chest, and you admire his expressions from above.

You begin moving along his hard length, his tip hitting just the right spot each time. Keeping a slow pace, you tease Porco a little longer, but he’s quick to bark at you to go faster. You let out a playful giggle, “Okay, you’re the boss.” “Doing so good putting Zeke in his place, hm?”

Porco groans at your words, and you swore he was growing larger inside of you at the thought of demoting his Zeke.

Your movements quicken and Porco continues to let out strings of curses.

“Yeah ride my cock baby, just like that. Just like you do for Zeke.”

The thought of another man puts butterflies in your stomach, and you feel yourself falter.

Porco doesn’t miss a beat, however. He quickly thrusts up into you, earning a gasp from your mouth. His hands fly to your sides, balancing you while he does all the work. You whimper at his rapid pace, nearing your climax.

“Porco,” you moan, “I-ah, g’nna cum.”

“Ok, baby,” he says in between thrusts, “Cum then.”

That was all you needed to hear before spilling your release over Porco.

He continued to milk you out, eventually finishing not too long after. He lets you fall on top of his frame, palms rubbing circles into your and easing you from your high.

“Good job, y/n.” You lift your head up to look at Porco’s face. He smiles back at you tenderly. “Alright let’s clean you up.”

He settles you on the bed next to his side and slides off the bed to grab a clean towel from the linen closet and discard the condom in the trash. You watch his muscle-y body move across the apartment floors, his clear focus on grabbing the right things for you.

He comes back with an iced water and starts cleaning up your thighs.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you smile, “I can do it myself.”

He looks up at you, eyebrows screwed up in confusion, “What? No, I’m doing it.” He continues his work at cleaning you off.

“..oh, ok.” You say shyly, butterflies in your stomach from his actions.

“Does he not do this for you?” Porco asks, not looking up from fixing up the sheets below you.

You replied slowly, “No, not really.”

Porco sighed, “He’s such a selfish dick.”

You laugh at Porco’s attitude. But now that you think about it, Zeke was always thinking about himself. The thought passed as soon as it came, and you did consider the fact that he was paying you.

Porco nestled himself on the side of you after he was done, grunting a little from his tired state. His big arms hugged around your smaller body as he pulled you in close.

“Porco?” You called.

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” you muffled into his chest.

Porco blushed at your comment, but simply toughed it over and patted your ruffled hair, “Mhm”.

A few pings were heard from your cell phone as you drifted into sleep, no doubt from Zeke, and each time Porco pulled you in tighter. A smile curled crept onto your lips, “It’s not like I’m gonna leave, Pokko,” you giggled.

“Good,” he said, “I wasn’t planning on letting you anyways.”

#zeke jeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager #zeke yaeger #zeke #zeke smut #zeke x reader #porco galliard #porco #attack on titan porco #attack on titan zeke #porco smut #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kiyojin #snk #attack on titan smut #aot smut

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wenellyb · 3 years ago

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hey! every now and then i've seen random posts about sebastian's comment/s on colin kap kneeling among other things, but i've never seen any source material or hard facts. do you have any posts about this or deconstruction of your own? i'd be very interested, ty!

Hey yourself😉!

So I've found the screenshot of the post (at the bottom) and just so you know he also posted an apolology but that one I couldn't find a screenshot of.

There are plenty of posts talking about this but I think most of them are old so it would take some time for me to find them.

If you want my opinion. The whole thing was f*cked up and I remember being extremely surprised and unfollowing him after that post.

And he did apologize, which is good and I do think he understands that that post was not great, but it wasn't my main issue.

When the whole story with Kaepernick happened it was a real eye opener and exposed a lot of racists even among celebrities. I'm looking at you Christopher Meloni. But not only him.

So Colin Kaepernick was to kneeling to protest against police violence and racism.

And a lot of people reacted like a lot of White people react when the topic of racism arise: deny everything and get defensive "How dare he protest blablabala" "He's so rich and he's saying White people are priviledged..." "How dare he say there is racism in this country". You know the usual.

But the thing is to me, the way he protested was the most respectful, and most peaceful way to protest and also so impactful. And some people had still a problem with it...I don't understand how ANYBODY could have a problem with it ... unless they were racist in one way or the other. That was the bar for me... I could not have respect ANYBODY who had a problem with him kneeling, because their message was clear “just sh*t up and play football”.

To me, anybody who had a problem with Colin Kaepernick taking a knee... was automatically problematic and the worst.

For other forms of protests there can always be arguments against it, lousy arguments, but arguements nevertheless: "They're blocking the streets" "There was violence during the protest",... etc... But what is your argument with having a man kneel during the National Anthem, to call out something as serious as police brutality.

To me it was clear that they just wanted Black Americans to shut up, and stay in their lane. "Sports have nothing to do with politics blablabla"

And unfortunately history proved Colin Kaepernick right, and I don't think anybody could voice bad opinions about him today, but at the time, a lot of people were criticizing him, calling him names, insulting him, and even some celebrities were talking about how disrespectful he was.

They cared more about the way he was voicing his protest, than the fact that racism was a real issue.

And because of the protests last year, I think a lot of people tend to forget about that time, but Kaepernick faced A LOT of backlash, A LOT and for what....??? Absolutely no justification. With the way some people reacted you would have thought he burned the American flag on a daily basis, or used it as toilet paper.

So having that in mind, it was really disheartening to see an actor you respect take part in that...

And just to be clear, this is my personal opinion, but I don't think Sebastian had any bad intention with that post (not like other celebrities who were outright criticizing Kaepernick, for some reason I only remember Chris Meloni lol). But the timing, and the content, even as a joke, even as a promotion tool for his movie was extremely bad. You also have to understand the context, and how there were a lot of people rooting against Kap.

Worst case scenerio Seb’s post was racist and best case scenario it was tone deaf.

I can only assume Sebastian watches the news in the US, so he must have known what the caption "take a knee" meant and still decided to post it... So maybe he wasn't ill-intentioned, but to him the topic was light enough that he could post it on his social media...

My main problem isn't even with Seb's post, it was a weird way to promote his movie, or a joke I don’t know. Artists do problematic stuff all the time, and it's up to the fans who support them to decide if they keep doing supporting him or not.

My main problem was and still is the reaction of the fandom, where White Seb stans think they know and understand racism better than anyone else. And honestly this is not me saying that Seb is racist, this is me saying that we should be allowed to voiced our opinions without being silenced or accused of trying to villainize him or cancel him blablabla .

But the Seb stans don't understand that and prefer to turn a blind eye.

I make difference between stans and fans. The Seb fans are the ones who are willing to listen, understand why some people might be offended and admit that their fav f*cked up. The stans are the annoying ones who yould rather keep their head in the sand.

And nobody is even asking to stop supporting Seb... If I cancel an actor, I will stop consuming his content, supporting him, paying to see his movies etc... But I'm not forcing anybody else to do it... But I would like to be free to voice my dislikes especially if that actor was being problematic... without the stans complaining about how "I don't know their fave"

I haven't cancelled Seb btw, I just don't feel like finding him excuses and glossing over the words and if I think that something he did was racist, I will say that it was racist, not "problematic" or "tactless" or "clumsy"...

I think that a lot of people are confused about what racism is, and think it is only White Supremacists who want to harm all non White people.

But it's not only that and in my opinion, there are many layers to racism. If you have "nothing against Blacl people" but there is a part of you that believes you or White people are better than Black people, well you are racist... If not hiw would you describe it? I have already told this story, but I have a friend who swore she wasn't racist and we even had a big debate about racism, and a few weeks later, her boyfriend told me that during a family dinner, she had talked about a common Black friend of theirs saying "She is pretty for a Black girl"... But if you ask my friend, she will say she isn't racist.

If you try to silence people calling out racism, you are contributing to it instead of fighting it.

Another example, I received a lot of "problematic" comments at work from coworkers on my hair, my origins etc, but when I talked about it to my friends and said those comments were racists.. they said that I was "overeacting" that those comments were harmless or just my colleagues being "ignorant". But one time, I was done with it and I wrote to HR about it losting all the comments I had received and the HR director called me and told me that those comments were racist full stop, he didn't try to minimize it or act like I was exagerrating.

And that's how I see the reactions of Seb stans whenever something from him re-sufaces, like my friends who just act like it is nothing.

Just so you know you are not helping when you do that.

They act as if we're suppoosed to accept that because "it's not that big of a deal". Who told you that? How do you determine what is a big deal or not? Especially when you have never dealt with racism?

Fandom behaves as if people who were hurt or offended by that post were overracting. "It was a joke" "It was a long time ago" "He would never do somthing racist"

How hard is it to say " I can see that my fave did something problematic, or that what he did was racist, and I would still like to support him but I understand that people were hirt"??? How hard is it to continue to stan your fave WITHOUT trying to silence people who call out the behavior.

And also the way they refuse to use the words is annoying... it's always "I'm sorry if anybody was offended", never "What I did/wrote was racist and I know better now". If no one wants to admit it when they do racist stuff... nobody will never get anywhere... Like my friend who is convinced that she isn't racist but goes around thinking that White Women are more beautiful than Black Women, and even says it when surrounded by her family.

And people act like the people who were hurt have no reason to be hurt because he apologized, but I hope those people realize that it doesn’t work that way. An apology is great of course, but it doesn’t take out the hurt, or the feeling that if he was comfortable enough sharing this on social media, what is he comfortable doing in the safety of his close circle?, or remove the idea that maybe an actor you adored, and respected doesn’t view Black people struggles as a serious matter.

I personally don't hate Seb, far from it. And the reason why I have so many posts about him, calling him out or not, is that he is one of the very few White actors I'm interested in. I don't know him personally, but I enjoy his interviews with Anthony and enjoy his movies. But I'm not about to act like he is perfect like some of his stan do and also I have absolutely no issue with people who have "cancelled" him because of his past behavior, because I understand them and it's their choice, it's what works best for them... I don't want to force them to root for someone who maybe wouldn't root for us.

Last point, that I won't elaborate because I have already written way to much. There's a difference between people actively trying to be racist, and people who are racist and maybe don't realize it, or people who have prejudice but are working on it...

I hate it when White people act like the worst thing in the world is being accused of racism when the actual worst thing in the world is being racist. Because it shifts the conversation from... "Oh how can I improve myself and stop this racist thing I'm doing, or how can I work on this prejudice I have?" to "How dare you call me racist!!! I would never" all the while they continue doing the racist thing they do.

TL:DR: His Instagram post was f*cked up, and he apologized. And it's up to each person to decide if they still want to support him or not, but it would be great if thise who still support him stopped pretending that those whose don't are overreacting or had no reason of being offended.

#sebastian stan #asks #anti christopher meloni #I wrote too much ... I'll finish later lol #long post #I need to stop making long posts #at some point #I just have to stop wrtining #Also a lot of people think that I hate Seb because I call him out a lot.... But he's actually one of the few White actors I consider....#All of the other ones mean literally nothing to me #.... They don't even exist outside of the movies they play in

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bowieexaminprogress · 4 years ago

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Directorial nuggets

Vrijdag 19:49 part 1

Here I will map out Younes’ personality through the things we see and learn from his kot. An analysis of character through an analysis of space.

Younes and music:

The record covers on the wall:

James Brown “Hot pants”

Brian Eno “Before and after science”

Prince and the revolution “Purple rain”

Ella Fitzgerald “The Cole Porter songbook”

Frank Zappa “Sheik Yerbouti”

We can hear “The wind cries Mary” by Jimi Hendrix playing in the background. There is so much symbolism in that song. Jimi always had a way to write poetic lyrics. The interpretation of the piece is open to everyone. I will not go deep into my personal understanding of the song here as it needs a post on its own but I will leave the lyrics below for you as readers to find your own interpretation of the song and the reason it was used in this clip.

Younes is clearly an old soul. A guy who is into the late 60s-70s to early 80s rock scene but also a lover of jazz music.

Younes and literature:

Books are all over Younes’ kot. He is a book lover. Someone who loves and seeks knowledge.

Zin in filosofie by Ludo Abicht and Hendrik Opdebeek

The reluctant Mr Darwin by David Quammen (I would personally recommend that book even if you are not a lover of Darwin and his “On the Origin of Species” work. It is beautifully written and an easy, interesting read)

Note how both books have existential themes. What is the origin of the world? Where do we come from? What is good and what is bad? What is the meaning of our existence? Younes is on a discovery path. He is looking for answers. Answers to core existential questions. What is Younes’ world view? What is his theory of cosmos? He is still trying to find out.

Younes displays a poem by Mahmoud Darwish, a Palestinian poet who was also a political activist (I highly highly recommend to read his work. His work perfectly describes the experiences of immigrants, people who were exiled from their own country and lost their motherland. His work is political, it is raw, it is real it is absolutely magnificent). This part of the poem is handwritten and we realise that Younes identifies with it. He took the time to write it down and put it on his wall.

Read these words carefully. This is what being an immigrant/coming from an immigrant family feels like. What being raised between two cultures, languages feels likes. Sometimes it feels like you belong somewhere and sometimes like you belong nowhere. George Kazantzidis a Greek song writer and singer who wrote about the experiences of Greek immigrants and the Pontic genocide, in one of his songs says something that is very similar and is very indicative of the immigrant experience, the duality, the sense of belonging but also belonging nowhere.

At some point he says:

In the foreign land I was Greek

And in Greece I was a foreigner.

Younes and his family:

From the photos around the room we find out that Younes has a younger brother. He is extremely close to his grandmother and his mom. Family is important to him and he wants to feel that he has them close by displaying photos of them all around his living space.

Younes and his uni:

We know that he studies communication sciences. His uni books are laying open on the table. Social psychology etc. This is someone who pays attention and cares for his education.

Younes and plants:

Plants are all over his kot. They look lively. It is clear that he takes care of them. He is a lover of living energy around him, he brings a part of nature in his space and he gives them a lot of tlc.

Younes and writing:

Notebooks are scattered all around the room. Some are old, some are new, some look fully written, some like they have only a few pages filled. This is a person who expresses part of himself through writing. We don’t know the contents of these notebooks but it is clear that pen and paper are used by Younes to write down his thoughts. What are those thoughts, what is he writing about? There are so many layers to this person and we have only touched the surface.

#wtfock #wtfock season 5 scene analysis #set design #space and character analysis

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 3 years ago

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Outlanders: How Jinjer survived a revolution and built their own world

Jinjer’s resilient spirit was forged in the civil war that erupted their native Ukraine in 2014. As the groove metal quartet prepare to unleash their fourth and most complex album to date, singer Tatiana Shmayluk relives the turmoil that shaped them. Cue: one of modern music’s most remarkable tales of survival, resistance and sheer determination…

It was when the first fighter jet flew overhead that Tatiana Shmayluk realised she had to run.

For the past few months, the mood in Ukraine had been growing increasingly tense. As a former USSR state, in spring 2014 the country had only had independence from Russia since 1991. Many citizens had wanted then-President Viktor Yanukovych to sign an agreement aligning the country closer with the European Union in November 2013. Plenty of others wanted to stay close to Russia. Protests began across the country. Then violence. Then Yanukovych was ousted from office in February 2014. Then more violence.

“There was a revolution,” says Tatiana. “There were huge riots in the main square of Kiev. In the end, our president, his ass was kicked out and he left the country. That was crazy. And then everything turned into chaos. And that’s when people really started hating each other.”

That April, following a highly suspect vote on whether to stay or go which resulted in a widely disputed declaration of autonomy for the region around Tatiana’s home-city of Donetsk in the east of the country, on the border with Russia, armed conflict commenced, involving Russian troops, tanks and air power. So began what Tatiana calls “a civil war – Ukrainians attacking Ukrainians”, with those loyal to their former Soviet masters on one side, and those wanting to break free, and have independence and closer ties with the EU on the other.

You may remember news footage of protesters banging dustbin lids at lines of soldiers and riot police. The politics of the situation are obviously layered and complex, but the simple version is: imagine a turbo version of Brexit that actually tore the country in two and resulted in one region declaring an independence that’s somewhat disputed by most of the world that isn’t Russia. And with a lot more violence. And a conflict that’s still piling up bodies now.

Tatiana was having a barbecue when she realised what was about to happen. “We were at a picnic, not far away from my building where I lived,” she says today from her flat in the Ukrainian capital, Kiev. “We were just chilling on the grass, eating food and stuff. And we heard this loud sound in the sky – we looked up and saw a jet. And that was that. We just grabbed our stuff and ran home, and we started figuring out how to leave before it was too late.”

Had Tatiana and her friends – including other members of her band, Jinjer – waited much longer than they did, their passage to Lviv some 1,300 kilometres to the west, where bassist Eugene Abdukhanov and his wife were already living, might have been much more hazardous. Even as they “packed all our shit into a van” and made a break for it, the country was starting to change shape around them.

“Already there were borders built being built around our region,” she says. “And I remember when we were crossing it, we were met by a guy, a soldier with a weapon. And then we heard [machine gun fire] somewhere very close to us.”

As she describes this, Tatiana makes an almost amusing machine gun noise, but she is painfully aware that even seven years on, the situation remains a serious one. “There’s no way out for this problem,” she says, “No solution. And that’s really, really sad.” If one needed an example of the lasting effects here, her parents have remained behind in what she calls, with almost mundane succinctness, “the war zone”.

“There’s an actual border between Ukraine and the former parts of the country, and it’s all blocked. And due to the pandemic, they have no chance to cross borders,” she explains. “They cannot receive money from the government, their pensions. I always tell my mom, ‘Hey, mom, just try once to do this, make really big effort and cross this border, even [if you have to go] through Russia. Just come here and stay here. I can help you in any way possible.’ But she is old school. And when you have been living on this earth for over 60 years, it’s really hard to change your way of living.”

But that’s what Tatiana and Jinjer have had to do. And growing from such trying circumstances has only made them more rigid in their resolve. Because literally having to run for your life will have an effect on a person. “Growing balls, maintaining your balls,” is how she puts it.

“Of course, it makes you stronger,” she says. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Today, Tatiana has lived in Kiev for more than five years. As Jinjer’s singer, she is one of the rising stars of European metal, and made her living visiting countries as far-flung as Argentina, Australia and Japan to play her band’s music. Next week, the band release their fourth album, Wallflowers, a furious, razor-sharp work of metal that will delight fans of Cradle Of Filth and Conjurer alike, and will add nicely to streams that, in total, already sit at over 100 million.

Though she says that she’s only been recognised around town a handful of times, and that she probably gets noticed more for the tattoos that cover her arms and neck (“Old women who were born in the Soviet Union really reject people with tattoos,” she says. “They look at you like you’re a prisoner, or a prostitute…”) than for her music, at 34 life for Tatiana is very different to what she knew growing up. As a kid in the early ’90s, after the collapse of the USSR, her family were, she says, “average”, but there were clues that the Shmayluk family were not one of society’s ‘haves’.

“I remember that we couldn’t afford meat,” she recalls. “After the Cold War ended we got a lot of American food, like veggie burgers. It looked like oatmeal with brown [fake] chicken that you make into patties, and then you fry them. You eat them as kind of meat, but it’s not. It’s just some shit, like some very plastic stuff. I realised how poor we were. And I was crying, ‘Mom, I just want some meat. I don’t want to eat this.’”

Elsewhere, though, Tatiana remembers her childhood as being “great”, a time she looks back on with fondness. “We didn’t have internet and stuff, so we just played outside all day long. And school was awesome.” The food imports post-Cold War might not have been the most brilliant thing she had ever seen, but the new order also brought with it more western culture. MTV introduced six-year-old Tatiana to hip-hop (“I’d practice dancing like MC Hammer”), but via going through her brother’s room and raiding his tape collection – often bootlegs – she also got turned on to Nirvana, Metallica and The Offspring.

“We had this family tradition that every evening we had supper together around the same table,” she remembers. “When I discovered The Offspring, I put Smash on my huge headphones. I was sitting in a chair, eating, and I wasn’t talking to anyone from my family, just listening to music. And then when I finished, I just sat back and just enjoyed the music, doing nothing.”

Her ability to both lose and find herself in music turned into doing something more significant at high school when, after years spent doodling herself playing guitar in a band with other girls in a sketchbook, Tatiana performed her first gig as part of a talent contest, doing covers of songs by Limp Bizkit and German metallers Guano Apes (“No-one voted for us,” she laughs). Her first gig as an audience member, meanwhile, came a few years later, when Soulfly played in Kiev. Despite the fact she didn’t actually get to see Max Cavalera and his band onstage, it was an experience in itself.

“I traveled from Donetsk to Kiev, like, 700 – 800 kilometres,” she says. “My parents were very protective, they didn’t want me going anywhere on road trips or anything, and they didn’t give me any money to spend. I only got to watch maybe 30 minutes of the show, because my boyfriend got drunk and started a fight with someone. Security grabbed him and threw him out of the club. It was quite a shitty day!”

In 2010, aged 23, having completed language studies at university, and working briefly at a dating agency, Tatiana joined Jinjer. Two years later, they self-released their debut EP, Inhale, Don’t Breathe. A year after that, they played outside Ukraine for the first time, in neighbouring Romania. “That gave us a push to move forward, because we really liked it,” she says. “And although we didn’t bring any money back – we didn’t earn anything – we realised that we want to do this, and we’re going to overcome any obstacle that is waiting for us.”

Eight months later, this would be put to the test by fleeing the war. Having moved to Lviv, Jinjer – Tatiana, Eugene, guitarist Roman Ibramkhalilov and then-drummer Yevhen Mantulin – then all moved into what the singer describes as “a summer house” just outside the city. Soon, the band became a full-time concern. They still had nothing, but it was a more fun nothing.

“We were all just hoping for the best, touring just with money that we had, earning nothing, like one euro,” she says. “Sometimes we didn’t have anything to eat, basically, because we were broke, because everyone had just quit their jobs. We just had some coins to buy a beer. That was intense. But I remember those years only with a warm heart. That was fun. That was a really huge challenge for just people who had never done that before, but we happened to overcome all this shit because we stayed together.”

But as touring became a more regular thing and things for Jinjer seemed to be on the up and up, the band once again found themselves faced with bad luck that most will, mercifully, never know. On tour in 2014, they had a long drive to Russia for the next run of shows. Stopping at a friend’s house in Kiev for the night, Tatiana took a taxi back to her own place, leaving everyone else to continue partying and drinking. At 4am, she got a phone call about Yevhen.

“They said, ‘You have to come here because he’s broken his spine,’” she recalls. “He fell out of the window. Everyone [had gone] to sleep, and he stayed there in the kitchen, sitting on the window frame, smoking. And then he fell asleep, and fell from the third floor. They heard someone screaming in the middle of the night, but they didn’t realise – they thought that it was maybe a dog or something. And then someone checked the kitchen and he was not there. Then they looked down and saw him just lying there.”

By some miracle, he survived, though he no longer has use of his legs. Tatiana says she and his bandmates were “in shock for many years”, and that, “I remember we were all around him, toured with him, just hanging out, and then he’s just like… bam.” But even this incident, which left him in a wheelchair and unable to return to the band, is talked about in the same spirited, fighty way that Tatiana talks about every challenge.

“He seems very positive,” she says. “He’s doing music and he tours around Russia with a band. It’s kind of a hip-hop band, and he plays guitar. He’s still doing tours, so that’s awesome.”

Should you ask Tatiana to describe to you the Ukrainian national character, she’ll tell you that they are “stubborn”, and that as a whole they feel “we have nothing to lose”. She’ll also tell you that, “Ukrainians are very passionate people. Not like Italians [are passionate], for example, or Spanish people. We are passionate with a straight face, you know, not smiling – more like Russians.” When it comes to danger, meanwhile, she says that “we take risks easily”.

Surprisingly, despite the above description matching the impression you get of Tatiana from her story, she doesn’t think of herself as “a typical Ukrainian”. She does, though, nod in confirmation when asked if she sees playing music as a form of resistance. Before any of the bigger events and challenges, this spirited defiance started with becoming a musician at all, at home.

“The first time I resisted something that really prevented me from doing what I love was my parents,” she says. “Mostly my mom, who didn’t want to see me as a musician. In Ukraine, it’s kind of a big thing. If you’re a musician, it’s not respected. From 17 to 23, I was protesting [her], silently. I didn’t, like, yell at her; I didn’t fight with her. I just said, ‘Yeah, yeah,’ and I did my own thing. That’s when it started, and it’s still going this way.”

An example: on Wallflowers, there’s a song, Disclosure, in which Tatiana vents about treatment at the hands of certain media outlets in her homeland. Even being used to internet haters, giving the band shit for everything from daring to escape a warzone, to daring to have a female member, to daring to become successful, the experience left her boiling.

“Earlier this year, in March, me and Eugene went to some studio to do an interview with a Ukrainian guy who is a YouTuber, and he used to work on Ukrainian TV channels,” she says. “So there was a tense atmosphere, and very angry vibrations between us. And he was so manipulative. We had differences in our political views and stuff, and he didn’t want to accept that. So he really wanted to show us in a very bad, bad way. I was pissed off for three days after that, and wrote the song about it.”

As people with a profile, do you think you’re a target for that sort of thing?

“We absolutely are targets for those people, for haters,” Tatiana says. “They hate us for different reasons: for me being a woman, you know. And people think that we pay for [success], like with our money – some of them think that we are hugely rich. My mom is a bookkeeper! My dad worked in coal mining, he was a worker, just working class. But no-one cares. They always find something to blame us for. But at least they don’t do us any harm. Only with words and comments. It’s distant. They’re poison, but it goes nowhere.”

Tatiana Shmayluk is a self-evidently tough woman. She’s also extremely nice. Equally, she’s extremely modest. When she talks about her life’s trials and triumphs, survival and successes, she does so in a manner that almost shrugs these things off, that possibly anyone could do them. Possibly, if pushed by the sight of a war literally kicking off while you have a barbecue, we could. But it’s still surprising that, for someone with more real things to get angry about than most, she describes what she’s putting into Wallflower as simply “my whining and insecurities”.

“Every album, I find something to be angry about,” she says. “It’s pessimistic, but it’s nothing to do with the pandemic. The pandemic gave me some time to just sit and think about, different stuff that I’ve been going through. And we have to agree that the whole world isn’t getting any better – I put myself into this kind of state of mind that, ‘Okay, it’s almost the end of the world.’ Maybe the next album will be more optimistic and more positive. Maybe…”

Pessimism or not, none of it makes her story of prevailing against the things she has any less stirring. Never mind the fact that the band she fronts come from a country most tours don’t even stop at. She’s – rightfully – proud of Jinjer’s success, and the work ethic it’s taken to get them where they are, but she’s almost at pains to share the glory with her bandmates. And in part, it’s this that’s carried Jinjer through all this the most. It’s this, she says, that’s helped her both survive, and to thrive.

“I would never do this myself. I wouldn’t be able to work on so many obstacles just by myself,” Tatiana admits. “And if I had some type of my own personal career, just a single singer, I wouldn’t even start doing that. I really need those guys. And the guys, I hope they need me. That’s just how it works: all together. Even having nothing in our pockets and empty stomachs, we could work.

“It just depends on how big your dream is.”

#tatiana shmaylyuk #jinjer #2021 interviews

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wesavegotham · 4 years ago

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So don’t hate me but I’m kinda liking damian’s animated versions better than his comic one I really like his comic one but after all the shit happening where he has been nerfed nonstop getting beat by Thomas Wayne Batman, the teen titans red hood (although Jason attacked from behind like a bitch) and now flatline beating him. Not to mention Bruce not being a father and Damian now Being blamed for everything when they all have no room to talk. God I was satisfied when his old team died in future.

This is going to be a really long post, my apologies in advance.

I absolutely get where you’re coming from. I personally still like comic Damian more because I feel like there is more nuance and layers to him compared to the animated universe Damian, but that is simply the fault of the limited time they could spent on him in the movies.

Movie!Damian certainly wins more fights than comic!Damian and was never regressed in any way that is comparable to the shitshow that was Teen Titans (2016).

You’re adressing a problem I have with comic!Damian too right now, a problem that I’ve already talked about with some people here on tumblr in private. Which is that for all the talk about what Damian can do the comics have rarely shown all those skills Damian should have being used in the actual story in recent years and that is frustrating. I find Damian’s arrogance interesting as long as I feel like he can at least back it up in some way, but in recent time he comes off as just an idiot because he has done almost nothing but fail and lose and the writers still have him act like he’s the greatest. But it doesn’t feel like he can back up his confidence anymore. At all.

If I had to name a skill that differentiates Damian from the other Robins right now then I could only list his skill to hide from Batman and that is a skill he only has for plot convenience. We don’t see him do anything to cover his tracks, we are only told that he somehow did it. And I’m pretty sure that the second this skill stops being convenient for the story it will vanish once again. It will probably end like it did with Jon, where Damian somehow hid so well that Jon said they would never find him in Teen Titans, when they wanted an excuse for Jon to not get involved with his friend’s fall into darkness, but now that DC wanted them to interact again all of that is forgotten and Jon has no problems finding Damian.

Damian is not the most social Robin, nor the most intelligent one and considering how he seemed to lose against everything and everyone in recent years I can’t say with a straight face that he’s the best at fighting or the most skilled. And that IS a problem. Damian will never be known for his social skills or his detective skills, those niches are already taken by Dick and Tim, but in theory he should be a great fighter or a highly skilled person. Damian has sacrificed his entire life for training, both in the league of assassins and during his time with the batfamily. But if Damian sucks at fighting (as in: he loses a lot more than he wins) and his skills play no significant role in advancing the plot, then what is the point of his character? Great, he’s good at drawing and likes manga now, but how will that help with a fighting tournament? Or with solving the mystery behind the league of lazarus? A protagonist is usually supposed to be able to change the situation he is in, that is why he’s the protagonist and not someone else. So what makes Damian so unique that only he can solve the situation he finds himself in during Robin and not someone like Conner Hawke? Or what makes him unique in the batfamily? I hope Robin adresses that soon.

Of course now one could say “He still has an unique position as Bruce’s biological child”, but that also was completely irrelevant in recent years. For all the moments since the start of Rebirth that had batfam-fans complaining that Damian was favored by DC because of his status as the only biological child of Bruce, there were actually very few interactions between the two. Stuff like Bruce talking about Damian or saying that he loves him was primarily found in scenes in which Damian was not present. Or it came way too late, like in Teen Titans (and Bruce refusing to hit Damian in the face because he is his child sets such a low bar, I refuse to acknowledge that as a sign of love)

If you look at how Bruce actually treats Damian or describes him then there is little love there. He ignored his 13th birthday, did nothing when Damian left him after the events of Justice League: No Justice, it had no impact on the Batman books at all, Bruce only called Damian for missions like two times, once in City of Bane (which was just so shitty, as I already explained in a previous post) and a second time in Detective Comics #1017 (He sent Damian to find a missing kid in a snow storm, while he dealt with something else), refused to comfort him at Alfred’s wake and when Bruce reflects on what happened in Teen Titans he blames most of it on Damian’s personality, both in Detective Comics #1030 and in Robin #1, and both times there is nobody questioning Bruce’s asessment. He really doesn’t have anything nice to say about Damian and apparently we are not supposed to disagree with him. So in summary: Damian seems to have no skills that make him indispensable for the batfamily, Bruce seems to have a very low opinion of Damian’s character and now that they have decided to give us Bruce searching for Damian the only reason for that seems to be that Bruce suddenly feels responsible for his child, even though that should have already been the case when Damian seperated from him in 2018 or at least directly after the second Teen Titans annual.

Even the kinda nice things Bruce says about Damian in Robin #1 can be called into question if you think about them. He says he has no doubt that Damian can take care of himself...and then we see Damian getting his heart ripped out at the end of the very same issue. Of course we know that Damian’s story doesn’t end there, so I won’t judge this too harshly yet, but to me this didn’t come off as Damian being able to take care of himself.

And I get letting Damian lose at the start of the tournament to establish Flatline as a threat and to make it clear that this tournament is not a game. I also get that Damian’s fight against King Snake was supposed to make sure that we still think of Damian as competent even though he loses later on. But at least for me, winning against King Snake was not cool or badass enough to make up for the fact that Damian was easily killed, in front of everyone, by a literal nobody like Flatline. King Snake is an old, blind guy, that didn’t show up in any DC comic I read since I started in 2018 and that was apparently beaten by Tim in his solo comic when he was 14 back in the 90s. Sorry, but that just isn’t impressive enough for me, especially since I’ve seen Damian lose so much in recent years. It doesn’t establish Flatline as a badass, it just makes me think that Damian is not that great of a fighter and shouldn’t be in this tournament.

I have some more thoughts on the tournament that make me wish that the arc will start being less about winning the tournament itself and more about something like taking down the league of lazarus soon (mainly the fact that a fight about being the best fighter is useless if the big guns are not taking part, the fact that you can only win by killing your oponent, which should be a problem for Damian and how nothing we know about the rewards for winning, becoming part of the league of lazarus und apparently immortality, is desirable for Damian), but this answer is already too long.

I’m going to be honest an admit that I did not like the ending of Robin #1 at all and that I hope that Williamson will show Damian being competent really soon because I’m not here for another pointless arc about Damian learning humility. I want to see Damian win for once, you know, like other protagonist usually do at the end of an arc and if Damian can’t even win or tell us what’s going on with him from his point of view in a book about him then I’m probably going to feel very disappointed by this book.

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feisty-emblem · 3 years ago

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Let’s kick this blog off with the ship that inspired me in the first place!

Yuri/Byleth NSFW

Word Count: ~2700 Contains: FTM Byleth, Post-Skip, mild Golden Deer spoilers, lots of Firsts for Byleth

The sun sank beneath the horizon, suspending Garreg Mach in cool indigos and soothing blues. Candles flickered the windows of most dorms but even those winked out one by one as the hour grew later. The Alliance army had suffered a long battle, a longer march, and deserved a long rest.

Byleth waded through the night. All around him, the monastery was settling in for sleep. The clang of metal on metal had stopped ringing from the training ground. Fireflies drifted lazily around the few guards still on patrol. Throughout Garreg Mach, quills had been put away, ink bottles capped, and nightly prayers whispered.

But Byleth knew better. As he walked, he could almost feel Abyss awake under his boots, like the buzz of a hive. There was always work to be done. Even here on the surface, Byleth watched cats uncurl and stretch as the time for their hunt arrived. Bats wove between stars. Far away, beyond the walls, a wolf howled.

Yet— even Claude’s window was dark now. Enbarr was behind them. Though there was more fighting to be done, the war was over. That was cause enough for Byleth to turn towards his room.

Inside, Byleth locked the door, lit the lone candle on his desk, and began freeing himself of his clothes. All the while, his mind was a few feet below— on Abyss. On wherever capturing Enbarr had inflicted on its people. On what Yuri could be doing.

Because even after that march, Byleth knew Yuri would be awake. He would stay up as long as his legs would hold him trying to solve all the worries of Abyss at once. Yuri cared for nothing and no one more than his people. Except his mother, of course.

Byleth had no idea where he ranked on that scale. Yuri cared about him some amount, that much was certain. Shortly before the battle of Gronder, Yuri had cornered him in the church, kissed him deeply, and told him not to die.

That kiss had led to many more. Sometimes after having tea in the gardens there would be slow, cautious kisses exchanged between rose bushes. Other times they would find themselves alone after strategy meetings and Byleth would end up with his back against the wall and his arms around Yuri’s waist.

All Byleth knew was that Yuri didn’t want him dead. And that Yuri liked kissing him. But neither fact told Byleth where exactly he placed on Yuri’s priorities. And that was okay— there were more important things to worry about, Byleth told himself. There were more important things than the ugly disappointment Byleth routinely felt when he heard Yuri laugh at someone else's jokes, or flirted with a peddler for a better price, or told Byleth he was too busy for lunch.

Shaking his head, Byleth continued to strip until he was in nothing but his small clothes. Comfortable summer air flew in through the window. Forgoing his usual sleep shirt, Byleth blew out the candle, and fell into bed.

For the next few hours, he could forget about Abyss, Enbarr, Shamballa— and Yuri. For a few hours he could leave the mess that was his feelings for Yuri in the waking world and dissolve into dreams.

That had been the plan anyway. But just as Byleth got comfortable, his door opened. He sat up, calling magic to his fingertips, nerves on end.

“Yuri?”

Yuri walked in as if he did this every night. He shut and locked the door behind him, kicking off his boots as he said, “I thought you’d never get here. I’ve been watching your window for over an hour.”

“Seteth and I were going over the route to Shamballa.” Byleth narrowed his eyes as he realized Yuri wasn’t wearing his usual outfit. He stood in Byleth’s room in a simple tunic and dark pants. A belt around his waist sported a dagger but as Byleth stared, Yuri took it off and looped it over the desk chair. “What are you doing here?” Byleth asked when Yuri also removed his tunic.

Yuri didn’t answer. Down to just his pants, he climbed gracefully onto the bed until his knees were parallel to Byleth’s hips, hands pressed into the mattress beside Byleth’s head. He held himself up inches from Byleth.

“You alright?” Yuri’s breath caressed Byleth’s lips.

“What?”

“Are you feeling alright? After marching all the way here? No injuries I somehow missed?”

“N-No, I’m fine.”

A smirk. “Good.”

Yuri kissed him. It was a different kind of kiss than the ones they had exchanged before. Or maybe the angle was just different— Byleth wasn’t used to Yuri hovering above him. Or the way his hair fell down to tickle Byleth’s forehead. Or the pressure of Yuri’s hips descending on his own.

Byleth pushed Yuri back with a slight press to his clavicle. “What are you doing?”

Yuri chuckled. “I thought that might be obvious.”

“But—” Byleth struggled to sit up. Yuri let him, still with a knee on either side of Byleth, hands going to Byleth’s shoulders to keep steady in his lap. “But why now? I thought you would be busy.”

“Oh I am. I’ll have a lot to do come morning.”

“So then—”

Yuri cupped Byleth’s face. “Because you work hard. And so do I. And there’s never going to be an end to it.”

Byleth swallowed, eyes not leaving Yuri’s. Moonlight spilled in through the window and turned Yuri’s hair into an aura, his gaze into sharpened amethyst.

“The war is over, but there’s already another fight on our plate,” Yuri continued. “After that they’ll be something else to fight. I can already tell. There will always be someone or something left to fight. You’ll be in every major battle on the continent until the day you die, Byleth. The Church knows you’re useful, and they don’t let go of useful people easily. You have Claude’s trust. When he runs into trouble building his new world, who do you think he’s going to turn to?”

Fingers ghosted down Byleth’s neck. Yuri sheathed his gaze for a moment to follow the path of his hands. “It’s the same for me.” Never had Yuri’s voice sounded smaller. His fingers traveled back up and found a home in Byleth’s hair. “We’re the same. And I realized you don’t have to do it all alone.”

Byleth held Yuri by the wrists. “I don’t want you to do it alone anymore,” Byleth confessed. “I want to help you, Yuri. I want—”

A kiss cut him off. A slow kiss that Byleth didn’t try to resist. Yuri tilted Byleth’s head back, tongue roaming free, drawing a moan from Byleth. It would be so easy to just lay back and let this happen. Let Yuri kiss him into oblivion. But there was more to say.

“Yuri—”

“You’re not listening to me.” Yuri pressed his forehead to Byleth’s. “It doesn’t have to just be you helping me. Let me help you, friend. I want to take care of you.” He accented this with a roll of his hips. Something solid made brief contact with Byleth’s midriff and he let out a stuttered moan. “Goddess knows you deserve it.”

Byleth hands dropped to Yuri’s waist, trying to keep him still even as Yuri’s lips flit across the bridge of his nose. “B-But why?”

Yuri froze. He drew back, eyes softening with confusion. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to take care of me so badly?”

“Why—” Yuri’s lip quirked up. “Do you think I make out with everyone?”

“No…”

“Do you think I make everyone in the army promise me they’ll come back alive? Do you see me dragging Claude back into the stables after chores? Or staring at Balthus while he trains?”

“No.” Byleth felt his face color. “So then—”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Yuri cupped Byleth’s face again, smirk firmly in place now. “Should I tell you exactly how precious you are to me or can I get to why I’m here in the first place?”

Byleth gulped. “We can— Yuri, you should know I’ve never… you know. Anything like this before.”

“Oh we’re not going to get far talking like that.”

Without warning, Yuri pushed Byleth back, pinning his wrists to the bed before he could react. It would be pathetic in any other circumstance— the Ashen Demon being held down in his own bed— but Yuri did it effortlessly, leaning down to speak directly in Byleth’s ear. “I said I’m going to take care of you. Anything you want, you’ll get. I’ll even stop if you like. But if you can’t even say the word sex, I don’t know if I can trust you to direct me.”

Byleth’s mind was spinning. Anything he wanted. Anything from Yuri. In truth he would take whatever Yuri felt like giving him— even just kissing as they had before would be satisfying. But… if this was truly what Yuri wanted to do…

And didn’t Byleth deserve it? To be doted on for once?

“I’ve never had sex,” Byleth stated. He tried to will away his blush but Yuri kissed the apple of his cheek and Byleth felt his shame ebb. “I’ve never wanted to. Before now.” Byleth turned to catch Yuri’s lips, keeping the contact light so he could whisper, “Not before you.”

That seemed to be all Yuri needed to hear. He deepened the kiss, hands sliding off Byleth’s wrists to flit over his chest. Those skilled, confident, wonderful hands lingered over Byleth’s surgery scars before skimming lower, tracing old battle wounds and minding new bruises from Enbarr.

“Tell me what you want,” Yuri said into Byleth.

“Y-You.”

“Cute.” A chaste kiss. “Be more specific.”

But words were growing difficult. Every touch was a new sensation. Every kiss left Byleth breathless. And Yuri was everywhere, it seemed. Overwhelming didn’t begin to describe it.

Byleth bucked his hips up, gasping when he felt Yuri’s length press against his crotch. Of course it only lasted a split second but by the grace of the Goddess Yuri seemed to understand. As Byleth flopped back to his bed, Yuri followed, moving against Byleth, the layers of clothing making it somehow more arousing.

Yuri chuckled. “If I may make a suggestion…” His fingers dipped into Byleth sleep pants. Eyes blown wide with pleasure met Byleth’s, waiting. Sothis bless this man. Byleth nodded vigorously. “Ah ah, use your words.”

“Please.”

“Better.”

More heat crept into Byleth’s face as Yuri undressed him. Byleth couldn’t count the number of times he had stripped off blooded garments in the middle of camp, in full view of cooks and mercenaries and healers and officers. He was no stranger, even, to seeing Yuri pulling off his own clothes in favor tending to a wound directly.

Yet now, here, moonlight gliding over Yuri’s skin as he tugged off his own pants, Byleth felt himself swallow. His eyes trailed low and he swallowed again.

A finger under his chin made Byleth look up. Yuri kissed him— light, comforting, a reprieve from the tight coil in Byleth’s chest stuck between fight or flight. “Alright?” Yuri murmured.

“I’m alright.” Byleth sounded steadier than he imagined he would. Perhaps a little high, but steady. He drew confidence from that. “I don’t want penetration tonight.”

Yuri pulled back to nod. “Then what would you like?”

“Can you just…” Oh how to phrase this? “Um. I would like…”

“Hm?”

Byleth suddenly wanted nothing more than to reset to when they were just kissing. That was much less complicated. He didn’t know the right terms for this, he didn’t know what he wanted, he had never done this before—

“Hey, stay with me.”

At some point, Byleth had shut his eyes. He opened them now to find Yuri staring down at him with clear concern. For the first time, Yuri was frowning. “Do you want to stop?” Byleth bit his lip. Yuri let go of Byleth completely and began shifting away.

Byleth reached out to hold him secure. “No! No, don’t— I don’t want to stop.”

Yuri, knees still bracketing Byleth, ran a soothing hand over Byleth’s side. “Talk to me. Come on, friend, whatever you want, remember?”

Sucking in a lungful of air— air mixed with the scent of Yuri— Byleth said, “I want you a-against me.”

He waited for Yuri to call him cute again. To maybe say the correct term for the act, if there was one, or admonish Byleth for being too vague.

Neither happened. Yuri simply nodded again and kissed Byleth, lowering himself until their cocks brushed together. Byleth gasped. Through clothing was absolutely nothing compared to—

“Like that?” Yuri prompted, thrusting slowly against Byleth.

“Just like that.” Byleth pulled Yuri to him, burying his face in Yuri’s neck and kissing there for good measure. “Yes, like that, yes.”

Yuri picked up the pace, letting Byleth pull him down to cover him completely, chests pressed together. One hand went down to hold Byleth’s legs open wider and Byleth whimpered, suddenly aware how wet he was. Yuri nipped at Byleth’s ear before asking, “Can you come like this?”

Only a handful of times had Byleth pleasured himself. And of those times he had only come a few. But this felt different— this sent sparks up Byleth’s spine and made him pant shamelessly against Yuri’s shoulder. If he had a heart, it would likely be beating out of his chest. “Yes,” Byleth groaned.

To his surprise, Yuri pushed himself up, hovering over Byleth once again. Still rutting against him, Yuri smirked. “I want to see your face. Make sure I know I did good by you.”

Byleth was trembling but he still forced out, “Y-You could never… never disappoint me, Yuri.”

Another frown crossed Yuri’s face before he chased it off with a smirk. “Maybe not now but—”

Byleth reached out to cup Yuri’s cheek. “Don’t talk like that.”

“I just mean—”

“Anything I want, right?” Byleth fixed Yuri with a stern look he usually reserved for war meetings. “You said you’d give me anything I wanted. I want you to not talk like that.”

It was Yuri’s turn to swallow. He hesitated in his thrusts, covering Byleth’s hand with his own. After a moment, he shook his head, smile overtaking the smirk. “Of course. Apologies, friend.”

Byleth nodded and pulled Yuri back down for a kiss, tensing only when Yuri started moving again, trying to concentrate on mapping Yuri’s mouth. His hands pressed over the small of Yuri’s back, urging Yuri on and desperate for as much contact as possible. He wanted to feel all of Yuri.

How could Byleth have ever been hesitant about this? It was Yuri, it was just his Yuri making Byleth feel so so good.

It didn’t take long for Byleth to break the kiss with a shaky, “I-I’m close.”

Yuri lifted himself up again, inches from Byleth’s face. “I’ve got you. Let it happen.”

One final hard press of Yuri’s cock— and Byleth lost track of the world. A ringing echoed in his ears and he was only faintly aware of his mouth hanging open, head thrown back. Yuri’s voice became a hum that seemed to course through Byleth’s whole body.

It took a few moments for Byleth to return to himself. Both his hands were bunched in the fabric of his blanket. Yuri had laid down beside him, red faced and gasping.

Byleth didn’t trust his body to respond properly yet. Everything felt like jelly, even his neck as he turned to look at Yuri. “D-D-Did you… do you need me to...?”

Yuri snickered, face half pressed into the bed. “I’m t-taken care of. No need to worry yourself.” He lifted himself on his elbows to reveal a damp spot on the blanket. Byleth was sure his side of the bed didn’t look much better, but looking would require effort.

As if sensing his reluctance, Yuri shuffled closer to throw one arm over Byleth, nuzzling into his neck. Byleth was just able to wrap an arm around Yuri. “That was…” Once again, Byleth found words a challenge. With a sigh, Byleth kissed Yuri’s forehead. “Thank you.”

Yuri hummed and curled into Byleth’s side. “You’re welcome.��

Outside, the moon rose still higher in the sky, stars twinkling peacefully over Garreg Mach. Byleth relished at being exhausted by something other than battle or planning or marching. And it didn’t take much to let himself drift off to sleep, holding Yuri secure— unable to come up with a good reason to ever let him go.

#yurileth #fire emblem three houses #yuri leclerc #yuri fire emblem #byleth eisner #byleth fire emblem #first fic on this blog please read the pinned post #im prolly gonna find a ton of mistakes later but take this #thats what practice is for!

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slutforwings · 3 years ago

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books i read in july and what i thot of them because im in a silly goofy mood and want to make a post like this

the song of achilles - madeline miller (historical fiction)

retelling of the myth of achilles, from patroclus' (his normal dudebro absolutely no romance there - some historians) perspective. some banger lines balanced out by godawful ones (once you start counting how many times feet are mentioned you never really stop + skin is once described as 'the color of freshly pressed olives' which is just green). the story is, yknow, beautiful and aching. i did really enjoy it, worth the read!

this is going to hurt - adam kay (non-fiction)

diaries of a junior doctor (who no longer practices medicine), with funny as well as heartbreaking anecdotes on life as a doctor. fucking hilarious at times, then you turn the page and you read the saddest thing. i absolutely devoured this book, its a really cool insight into the medical world! 10/10 have already decided m gonna reread

a short history of nearly everything - bill bryson (non-fiction)

what the title says! its basically an 'introduction' to all of science (air quotes bc its like 500 pages) written in a way that makes it both easy and fun to read as someone who studies literature and hasnt had a science course in 4 years. imo best read along with a pencil so you can underline and comment etc. wonderful book, learned a lot and had a great time

opposite of always - justin a. reynolds (romance, YA, coming of age idk)

high school senior gets together with the girl of his dreams. and then she dies. but no fear! its groundhog day week months and he wakes up right when he met her again. can he save her? while this book is sweet and well written and lovely message and all that.... it made me realise 'ah. im officially too old to relate to high schoolers'. so there's that.

haven't they grown - sophie hannah (mystery)

the protagonist parks in front of the house of her old childhood best friend who she hasnt seen in 12 years. just having a looksee. oh there she is, getting out of the car with her kids! hold the fuck up. those kids look exactly the same age as 12 years ago... a book with layers upon layers of lies and mystery, i recommend saving it for a time that you have the entire day to read, you just wanna know So bad. the protagonist's daughter (and her husband to some degree) help her to figure it out and it's neat :)

wendy, darling - a.c. wise (fantasy)

what if peter pan and neverland wasnt really the dream it seemed? what if wendy got institutionalised for still believing in it? what if, years later, she has a daughter. and what if, one night, peter pan comes for her daughter. a really cool reimagining, really goes hard on the 'peter is a kid forever and ever and has insane powers to shape neverland so maybe thats not a good idea!' i really loved it, its a great book about growing up even though you dont want to etc. also incredibly expressive writing, i could picture perfectly what was being described. quite eerie a lot of the time but im a fan of that

the dreamers - karen thompson walker (sci-fi?)

there's a girl at a college that won't wake up anymore. she's just peacefully sleeping but nothing can rouse her. after a few days, she passes away. weird but alright! ah shit it was contagious and now the whole town is falling asleep. they all seem to be dreaming so vividly though, what could it be about? odd writing style, but in a good way. something else yknow. really eerie vibes, but unmatched by the way your skin crawls when you check the date it was published and it was before the pandemic. uncomfortable similarities! its about the way a community might come together (or not) in crisis times and also about the differences between waking and dreams. fun!

the midnight library - matt haig (philosphical fiction)

it starts with nora taking an overdose. except she wakes up in the midnight library, a place between life and death. there she can try other routes her life could have taken if she'd done things differently. a really nice book about depression and finding the will to live again by looking at yourself with a new perspective. although i loved one of his other books (how to stop time) more, this was also a very good read

#book recs #book review

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pyroclaststan · 3 years ago

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CW: body horror, gore, graphic depictions of injuries, Nanosurge event

The two of you had been running and you made it so far—you were going to get away, you were going to make it, but then Syrah started screaming.

She hit the ground flailing, howling, peeling apart. It was like her skin was disappearing from her limbs, and she kept yelling, pieces of her mouth starting to disappear, too.

There are no words you could ever use to describe the noise of someone gargling on blood and bile and those things as they ate through her lungs and chest and throat.

To describe the sight of your lifelong best friend sloughing apart and disappearing before your very eyes as she tries to scream and call out, only to be unmade.

In her final throws she reached out for you.

It hurt.

Now it feels like burning, and stinging, and itching all at once.

You cannot look away as the horror settles into you, freezing you in place. You watch as your left leg peeled, layer by layer, and eaten like the many before you—like the many around you.

It hurts, but you cannot scream, you cannot sob: you saw how they got into your best friend’s mouth that way. It ended quicker for her than the others but you do not want an end at all.

You kick the remnants of your leg in futility, as if to shake them off with sheer willpower as they eat their way closer. It’s all you can do. The swarm on you is multiplying; you see them like a hive of ants, now beginning to eat away at your fingers.

No one will be coming for you.

There is a chorus of screams a few yards away.

“NO!” a bloodcurdling howl of a voice echoes out.

It is the wretched, horrible scream of someone desperate out there, and your head whips around for the source despite your situation. Someone is close enough that they might see you—you might live.

Further across the field three—no, a body, just two—of the Rangers are gathered. One of them is actually not a Ranger at all but that vigilante you’ve seen, Sidestep, who is standing over the writhing form of Marshal Charge, hands out.

In the fields around you, you see the swarms of those creatures coalesce and gather, all stopping mid air before moving towards Sidestep, floating up and over their head like a rippling ball of shimmering black water. A river Styx of souless little creatures.

Looking down you realise that your leg is no longer being flayed by the microscopic monsters, flesh and bone gone like it was never there; your hands shake as you desperately peel off your shirt to tie around the stump, hoping through your panic it stems the bleeding as your adrenaline fades. You’ve never done anything like this before—your hands are shaking awfully. Blood loss and possible shock making you run cold.

In the few minutes more that follow the pause of those things, as you clutch what’s left of you, you hear more screams and the sounds of heavy footsteps: everyone left is being evacuated and before you know it Charge himself is beside you, scooping you into his arms before sprinting along with the crowds of survivors as if he weren’t screaming earlier. You were just close enough that he saw you; you clench his shoulders with your tremoring hands, unable to stop the tears that pour down your sweating skin. You’ve never known death this closely. You don’t know if your fear or relief is greater.

Surrounding the two of you are the desperate, the pleading, the injured, but you cannot tear your eyes away from their target to see all of them. Your hearing is muffled by a ringing of tinnitus, even as Charge hands you over to another person before running back to save others struggling out there. As all the heroes get to work while they have this new advantage.

You can’t stop watching Sidestep.

They stand there, alone, hands held to the sky as if to hold a barrier around the writhing mass of murderers. You think of the class last week: the Titan Atlas holding up the heavens. You see the way their arms and legs shake, muscles sure to be straining, their heavy breaths under their super-suit. There is no dramatic lighting or music to highlight their effort, this dire situation is all too real. They’re too close to those swarms but they don’t budge an inch, a hand coming to their head as they let out a bellow of pain.

The man holding you is trying to flee with you, but you can’t stop twisting in his arms—you need to see this: you need to witness what Sidestep is doing, what Sidestep has done. Someone needs to remember that they are alone amongst those… demons.

Others are watching too, crying, and after some time when Sidestep’s knee buckles and their hands fall to brace themself the entire crowd flinches as one. The swarm wavers looking like they might escape and spread again, but Sidestep’s hand quickly rises back up and they fall back into their synchronised swim. The terror is palpable, the air is thick, the smells of the dead nauseating in the breeze, but you all cannot stop watching. Even the reporters are keeping a silent vigil, unable to believe any of this.

A hero is saving you.

Time passes and you’ve all huddled together, taking care of each other, locating family, slipping out silent prayers. A nurse who was among the survivors has helped you with your leg so far: medical should be arriving soon, you won’t be saving that leg. You might have lost too much blood, or you will. She’s just waiting for the shock to set it now, holding your hand so you’re not alone through it.

But you don’t care because out there so many have lost more than you. Others are still fighting so you all don’t lose more, even now. And one is stemming the tide.

Charge is behind Sidestep as they keep on despite being brought to their knees and struggling, posted like a sentry but gripping his own arm, and you can almost make out the look of abject horror on his face as he watches the swarm hovering before them; small flickers of static arcs when the hive moves or breaks synchronisation.

Medical has arrived and you are being carted off to a rescue vehicle while containment is still on the way, but you still don’t look away—you can’t look away. It has been hours and they are shaking and they are struggling but they are holding. You burn that sight into the back of your head before the ambulance doors close. Your hero.

Your dream always ends there: you were gone before they’d collapsed. Before it was over.

———

Today is the anniversary of that awful day; the persistent nightmare that haunts even your days through all the scars. It’s hard to go outside most days, hard to watch the news and catch a glimpse of that silver woman that scares you so much. It’s hard to do much of anything that isn’t sitting locked in your workspace, building, tinkering, or fixing. But this day is an exception to all those great fears.

You stop by the florist with the modded hand: she remembers the day as well as you, sometimes the two of you talk about it while you work on her hand. She’s bundling up Syrah’s yearly bouquet, handpicking each flower by some meanings you’ve never gotten around to learning about them, stopping only to help a haggard looking man she also seems to know well with a bundle of white chrysanthemums. You can smell the alcohol on him from here, but that’s none of your business: today is a hard day for more people than you and Maritsa.

She tells you to give her love to your old friend; she never goes herself, no matter how much time passes. She lost too much to that nightmare—a wife, two kids, some family.

Your eyes linger on one of the few white chrysanthemums that man left behind, scratching the scar tissue buildup on your finger’s skin weave, something telling you to pick one of those up, too. Her garden hardy mums cost a lot but you know anything she grows in her greenhouse is well worth the price.

Heading out with your newspaper bouquet in hand, you fall into step with the Los Diablos crowds, easily able to pick out who in the crowd is headed the same way as you. You can see it in their heavy steps and weighted shoulders and you wonder if you show it, too.

The memorial isn’t a plot of headstones—too many were lost for that—but instead a large stone and steel wall, covered from one end to another with names and birthdays of victims. Flowers, candles, teddy bears, liquor, and photos rest on the ground here every year, and every year the crowd and offerings grow smaller. Everyone eager to forget.

You take your place in front of Syrah’s name, fingers sliding quietly against the stone that’s too cold for having sat in Diablos’ heat as long as it has. To your right you see Desiderio placing his usual marigolds—also from Maritsa’s—against the stone, then falling into prayers as he always does. The flowers in your hands begin to feel too heavy so you set them down, quietly sit in prayer with Desi, and hold each other once the tears that always come arrive.

It’s a small, distant family you’ve made out of this place and the only other people who could understand your loss; no matter how much time passes between gatherings you all know you have each other. But you cannot stay all day, lost in the memories: you have one more important stop to make.

At the gates of your destination a man in a grey hoodie and a larger man in a blue one passes you, and once again you are hit by a wave of booze. Looking after them, you notice the back of the smaller, hunched over one: it’s that man again, being escorted by someone you hope is his friend. A few moments more and you draw in a deep breathe, gathering resolve before heading in.

So here you are at yet another memorial. Not the memorial to that scarred, barren earth you pointedly avoid looking at but the memorial to the hero you’d lost, gone after another even that shook the city to its core before they ended it. The hero this entire city lost. The dark headstone that’s all that’s left of Sidestep.

The black and teal hoodie you’ve worn in over the years always feel likes the only thing appropriate to wear as you sit here, sitting before the looming stone in your usual spot, staring at the bundle of white flowers and the half-full beer can beside it. Chrysanthemums bundled up with Maritsa’s trademark twine. A smaller bunch of white lilies next to it, from somewhere else. That man’s modded friend maybe; you know the signs like you know the smell of the dead. All too well.

You scratch the phantom itch crawling along the former calf and thigh of your modded leg, unable to chase away the ghost of a life past. Unable to turn back the clock. Unable to say thank you.

You set your flowers down next to that man’s, hoping that he found peace in his visit here like you do. Hoping that someone’s there to help him through that event and its scars, too. You really hope that was a friend.

The picture of your masked hero is peeling from all the rain and heat, the flowers and offerings dwindling as folks try to forget those terrible events, but you remain. Year after year.

Living is the only thanks you can give them.

#the mischief scribbles #MC: Kingsley Chrysanta #(I mean—technically)#FH:R #I’m not really going to tag Ortega since this person wasn’t aware that it was him #Nanosurge #a FH:R NPC #pre-Rebirth #Fallen Hero: Rebirth #NPC: Ifama #hmm… don’t care for this one tbh

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bluemoonpunch · 3 years ago

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HI! This is from a pretty old post but I was wondering, what did you mean when you said you used to "enter a trance state in three or four different sets"? Did you just repeat a certain technique over and over until you went under or did you mean something else?

A: Yeah, pretty much. It's sort of like dropping deeper and deeper into your unconscious mind layer by layer, similar to what they do in Inception, I think. Similar concept. Every layer would be something different like I would do something different in order to go down further as I was in a different state of mind or holding a different level of consciousness.

XXXX

Q: Hey! I was re-reading the external alignment of min yoongi that you posted (because weirdly his readings which are very old now, give me comfort :| ) and read that incarnation cycle part and your mentioning 200-year cycle. Just realized that the great Jupiter Saturn mutation cycle is also 200 years long so maybe it's some dots that connect? Idk I almost had an epiphany moment and then felt dumb, sorry.

A: It is an interesting lineup for sure. I wouldn't be surprised if there is some connection there. Here's an article about it if anyone is interesting: link.

XXXX

Q: me : vibin to the end credit music of bmp's videos

namjoon : sings

me: 👀

Bmp: slips in some numericals ( ͡°³ ͡°)

Me: 👁👄👁

seriously nam-vocals and them codes hit diff -@bursaat

A: This is a very old ask that I've had saved in my ask box for a while just because it always made me smile, lol.

XXXX

Q: heyy just wanted to add a little info, Billie apparently shared her birth time back in the days on Twitter when she was talking about astrology and charts with her fans and it's 11.30 am. If you want you can look up to that too :) thanks for your work for the collective 🙏 -@bursaat

A: Thanks for letting me know. There's definitely some aspects in her chart that line up with her EA reading, a lot of interesting tension between planets that seems to be set up for public progression, kind of leading people through certain phases of life by publically displaying her own progression. It's very interesting for sure.

XXXX

Q: what happens when two souls merge?

A: If souls merge while still occupying physical forms, as in they are still existing physically as two separate humans, there can be a lot of psychological issues between the two or a severe imbalance where one has more trouble than the other, which can lead to a very noticeable power imbalance, especially in romantic partnerships. This is also something that can happen with twins who either share a split soul or just have a close enough connection or are dependent enough on each other that their souls merge.

I have seen before in some of my personal work and exploration that in some pretty severe cases one person will "vibrate out of the body" in order to merge with the other. In other words, the one who is "weaker" mentally or physically will die in order to merge with the other. On a higher level, the souls or the consciousnesses may remain separate, but they'll merge on lower levels. Such as merging on a 5D plane but remaining separate on 9D plane.

XXXX

Q: Hi! This is not a reading request, but could you please add dates to the mini-readings on your website from now on? There's no date for them anywhere and I know I can find them here and see where they were done, but if it's not too hard please add them in the future! Thanks!!! <3

A: Yes, all of the mini-readings on the BMP website should now show the dates they were posted on the top center, just below the main title of the post. Just be aware that some of the posts put up in late 2018 were carried over from Tumblr, so there will be two dates, one under the title for when it was posted onto the website, and another date at the top of the entry marking when it was originally posted on Tumblr.

XXXX

Q: Hey! Hope you are well. I have a general question about shifting timelines: How do we identify if we've shifted to a different timeline in a tangible sense? Is it based on how our interests change, how clear/hazy our memories become of fairly recent years, etc? I've been getting back to regular meditation again and I'm trying to figure out if what I'm going through is because of work+isolation+lockdowns messing up my perception or if it is something else.

A: Well, I assume it can be different for everyone, but for me, it's definitely a matter of memory and energetic ties to those memories that state out the most. Specifically around trauma and very heavy memories that used to really deeply trigger me even with the slightest mention of it now feel almost like something that I've only just heard about rather than experienced. Like, I still remember things very clearly, but they just don't feel heavy anymore, they don't come with negative feelings the way they used to, it's just kind of... there. Almost like a dream.

I've definitely experienced certain shifts before where, deadass, one day I was absolutely terrified of a specific concept, specifically involving aspects of communication with higher consciousness or beings of other dimensions and whatnot, and then suddenly the next day it was absolutely not a problem at all. It was really strange, but it was literally like flipping a switch. I've had a few moments like that in the past 4 years or so where "flipping a switch" could most accurately describe certain points of shifting timelines or shifting in levels of conscious awareness simply because of how fast it happened.

Shifting timelines can also come with remembering past lives, or being able to recall experiences you yourself didn't have, which can be really confusing and anxiety-inducing at times, but as long as you are conscious of it and you know what's going on, it's easy to ground yourself and settle into the present moment and just focus on the here and now.

Sudden inspiration or interests popping up out of nowhere along with very strong intuitive pulls toward new things can be a sign of shifting timelines but also signs of spiritual or conscious expansion and development within a singular timeline as well.

#bmpasks

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themousefromfantasyland · 4 years ago

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Creatures of Yuletide: Krampus, the Christmas Demon

He sees you when you're sleeping

And he knows when you're awake

He knows if you've been bad or good

So be good FOR YOUR OWN GODDAMNIT SAKE!!!

Christmas season is full of magical beings and creatures that travel through our world. Jolly old men from the north, elves that sleep in our homes, goats that give presents, the holiday season is full of all sorts of weird and wonderful characters. However, Santa Claus tends to me the most famous among them, and the most remembered in popular culture. This was, until some years ago, when a forgotten Christmas character rose in popularity in pop culture as an antithesis of good old St. Nick. I’m talking about Krampus, the Christmas Demon from German and Alpine lore.

One of the reasons why I believe Krampus became so popular recently is because he’s a scarier and less commercial alternative to Santa. In older posts I talked about how people used to tell scary ghost stories during Christmas and how Christmas once had this spooky side to it. Then one day it hit me that, in a way, Krampus is exactly a call back to these traditions. While not a ghost, Krampus brings back the scary atmosphere to the holiday. People tell stories about Krampus, they dress like him, they fright their neighbors in these costumes. People in general like to be scared, and in particular, even though they won’t admit it now, children too. Krampus is celebrated because he brings back the fun that overly commercialized Santa took out from Christmas.

Jeremy Seghers, organizer of the first Krampusnacht festival held in Orlando, said this in an interview to the Smithsonian Magazine:

"The Krampus is the yin to St. Nick's yang. You have the saint, you have the devil. It taps into a subconscious macabre desire that a lot of people have that is the opposite of the saccharine Christmas a lot of us grew up with."

Krampus is mainly a holiday tradition from the Alpine region and Central Europe in general. His name is derives from the German word krampen, meaning claw. On the night of December 5th, the eve of Saint Nicholas Feast, Krampus, and Saint Nicholas himself go out in the streets to punish or reward kids. This makes him one of the Companions of Saint Nicholas, a group of holiday figures that would help him in punishing kids. While they do the punishment, jolly old Nick brings the kids gifts, in a sort of Good Cop, Bad Cop dynamic.

Our friend St. Nick fills the shoes of good children with fruits and sweets. Krampus carries birch branches for senseless beating the misbehaving ones. On his back he is often depicted carrying a sack or a basket. This is to carry the naughty kids to his layer for more torture later. He can also eat them, threw them out in the river to drown, or bring them straight to the depths of Hell. In some parts of Austria, Krampus presents the families with gold-painted twigs that are to be displayed year-round in the house, constantly reminding the kids of his ever-watching presence.

What lovable fellow!

It was common in the 19th century to exchange Gruß vom Krampus, “Greetings from Krampus” cards that contained humorous rhymes and poems. In these Krampus is depicted looming menacingly over children. In others the creature receives sexual undertones, pursuing scantily dressed women.

There is also the Krampuslauf, or, Krampus Run, where people dress up as him and parade through the street dressed in fur suits and carved wooden masks and carrying cowbells. This one is very important for understanding Krampus origins.

Now, no one really know where Krampus comes from. The most popular theory is that he was a fertility god from the Alpine Region before Christianity retconned him as demon. Scholars often link him, Pan, and the satyrs to the archetype of the Horned God. Some claim he’s the son of Hel, but I didn’t find any real or credible source to this.

What we do know is that Krampus has some connections to a goddess in the Alpine region called Frau Perchta.

Now Frau Perchta is a very mysterious figure from the German folklore. She had many different names depending on the era and region. We don’t know a lot about her before Christianization, but what we do know is that in the folklore of Bavaria and Austria, she was a witch said to roam the countryside at midwinter, and to enter homes during the twelve days between Christmas and Epiphany. Good children would find a silver coin in their shoes. Bad children would have their bellies sliced open, their stomach and guts removed, and she would stuff the straw and pebbles in the hole left behind. She had two forms in which she could be encountered, beautiful and white as snow, or elderly and haggard.

Perchten is plural for Perchta. Originally, the word referred to female masks representing her, but the name come to refer to the animal masks worn in parades and festivals in the mountainous regions of Austria.

A Perchten mask

In the 16th century, the Perchten took two main forms: Schönperchten, "beautiful Perchten", or the Schiachperchten, "ugly Perchten”. The beautiful Perchten came during the twelve nights of Christmas and festivals to bring luck and wealth to the people. The ugly Perchten, who had fangs, tusks and horse tails which were used to drive out demons and ghosts. Men dressed as the ugly Perchten during this time and went from house to house driving out bad spirits.

From the Smithsonian Magazine: A man dressed in a traditional Perchten costume and mask performs during a Perchten festival in the western Austrian village of Kappl, November 13, 2015. Each year in November and January, people in the western Austria regions dress up in Perchten (also known in some regions as Krampus or Tuifl) costumes and parade through the streets to perform a 1,500 year-old pagan ritual to disperse the ghosts of winter. (DOMINIC EBENBICHLER/Reuters/Corbis)

People would masquerade as these devilish figures and march in processions known as Perchtenlaufs. The Church didn’t like these creatures and tried many times to ban these practices, but due to the sparse population and the rugged environments within the region, the ban was useless.

In Catholicism, St. Nicholas is the patron saint of children. His saint day falls in early December, which helped strengthen his association with the Yuletide season. A seasonal play that spread throughout the Alpine regions was known as the Nikolausspiel, "Nicholas play". In these plays St. Nick would make questions about morality and reward children for their scholarly efforts. Eventually the Perchtenlauf, in an attempt to pacify the Church, introduced Saint Nicholas and his set of good morals. Krampus, the in-chains helper of Saint Nicholas, was then born.

In 1975, anthropologist John J. Honigmann wrote that:

"The Saint Nicholas festival we are describing incorporates cultural elements widely distributed in Europe, in some cases going back to pre-Christian times. Nicholas himself became popular in Germany around the eleventh century. The feast dedicated to this patron of children is only one winter occasion in which children are the objects of special attention, others being Martinmas, the Feast of the Holy Innocents, and New Year's Day. Masked devils acting boisterously and making nuisances of themselves are known in Germany since at least the sixteenth century while animal masked devils combining dreadful-comic (schauriglustig) antics appeared in Medieval church plays. A large literature, much of it by European folklorists, bears on these subjects. ... Austrians in the community we studied are quite aware of "heathen" elements being blended with Christian elements in the Saint Nicholas customs and in other traditional winter ceremonies. They believe Krampus derives from a pagan supernatural who was assimilated to the Christian devil"

Is worth noting that this is exactly what happened to the Yule Goat. He was a pagan symbol, people dressed like him to keep winter spirits at bay, but the Christians demonized him. There are illustrations of Saint Nicholas or of Father Christmas riding the Yule Goat during Christmas and these were meant to represent the power of God over the power of the Devil. Krampus is represented in chains by the same reason. However, the Yule Goat came to become a gift-giver and a more positive force in holiday lore, with people dressing as goats to deliver gifts to their families in the 19th century. Krampus didn’t have the same luck. I really wonder if the Yule Goat and Krampus came from variants from the same or similar cultural traditions, but that took drastically different routes.

I must say that, although I'm more in the team Santa, I learned to love Krampus over the years. It’s undeniable the amount of fun he brought to those who wanted something a little more darker and creepier in the holidays, and as someone who identifies itself as 90% lover of cheesy, cutesy and sappy stuff and 10% lover of everything earie and macabre, the idea of a monstrous boogeyman in the shadows of good old Santa Claus is fun. I personally think there’s enough space for both, the terrifyingly scary and the joyful jolliness.

Fun fact: Krampus, the one people rescued from German obscurity to combat the overly commercialized Christmas, is now being criticized as being too commercialized. C'est la vie

Story time: In my country I once heard the tale of a guy that went as Santa to deliver Christmas presents to children in a poor community. He brought many gifts and toys with him. The children loved them, until there were no more gifts to be delivered. The remaining children and their parents became so angry that they chased away the guy, throwing rocks at him. The guy came to them with free stuff, helped as much as he could, and people still threw rocks at him and chased him away, almost seriously hurting him.

I admit, there are cases where Krampus is truly needed 🤣🤣🤣

Art by Helen Mask

#The Creatures of Yuletide #christmas #holiday season #gruss vom krampus #krampus #Greetings from Krampus #Gruß vom Krampus

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whateverafterhigh · 4 years ago

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Worldbuilding Succession Systems: Goodfallow

Most of what we see or hear when it comes to the succession systems in the universe that Ever After High is set in relates to fairytales and the inheritance of specific character roles. Many of the fairytale royalty are born into their royal bloodlines or otherwise marry in. But there are some kingdoms where things aren’t as easy as that. One such kingdom is the Good King’s Kingdom – which I named Goodfallow in another post.

The Good King is a fairytale character, but his role in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is small. In fact, depending on the adaption of the story you read he might have already died by the time the story has officially begun. He’s not quite dead yet in the series, seeing as he’s still raising Raven Queen, but it is never acknowledged that Raven is in line for the throne. Not even as a “Hey, maybe Raven has her dad’s destiny…” kind of way, which you would expect given Raven is constantly fighting for any destiny other than her mother’s. Going that route might seem like too easy a fix to acknowledge in the series, especially early on, no matter how powerful a red herring that would be for the readers. It could have even been used to make Grimm start to worry on whether or not he actually guessed right when it comes to writing the fake book. Grimm doubting himself would have been great, even more so if it’s a big thing to have forgotten that the Good King needs an heir too.

The potential for drama aside, there must have been something else that made everyone think they were right so conclusively (and I’m not speaking of the gendered characters, there are too many female characters who have their father’s destinies for that to be the reason).

Then I had an idea.

The Goodfallow Crown

I wanted to create a succession system for Goodfallow that would be able to stand up to the Storybook of Legends on something akin to even ground. Obviously, I didn’t want it to have such a grand scale. But I knew I wanted something magical, and I knew I wanted it to be possible that the Storybook of Legends (the original) could guess wrong. (I mean what even is the point of having an antagonist as powerful and insufferable as Headmaster Grimm if he wasn’t able to grasp at some straws to save face and avoid even the harshest of punishments?). Still I wanted Grimm to be arrogant enough that he wouldn’t have worried about Raven’s position as the Evil Queen until she was throwing the book in his face on Legacy Day.

This meant I needed something with so many possibilities that something like the Storybook of Legends would have a hard time even coming up with the most likely outcome for the Next Good King. Something that could be affected up until the moment that the Good King has been crowned. And something that had the magical power to break the magical contract to the Storybook of Legends that signing it would create without extensive repercussions – something that would cause a page to fall out on its own if need be.

Also it needed to be something that played into what a Good King should be, it is what is choosing the reigning monarch after all.

In Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, the Evil Queen is defined by her attitude and treatment of the kingdom’s people, so it only makes sense that the Good King be defined in the same way. So I played with the idea of the Good King being an elected position that passed down the bloodline out of convenience and all the things that real life kings and queens have to do to make sure that the people don’t start up a revolution. Something like the Sword in the Stone from King Arthur’s legends could do that, the same could be said for Thor’s Hammer (though I wasn’t actually thinking of Mjolnir when spider-mapping ideas).

I couldn’t see it being an actual sword, as cool as it would be for the Good King to actually have the kingdom’s blessing of sorts to raise his sword at those who wronged him. And after reading the fairytale Prince Darling, where there is a ring that pricks the young Prince on the finger every time he does something wrong in hopes that it will make him into a good person, I thought of using a crown.

The Goodfallow Crown, named such because it is the physical manifestation of the collective will of all the citizens of Goodfallow ticks a lot of the boxes for what I wanted.

It’s magic, powerful enough to break the bindings created by the Storybook of Legends because I’m the author and I say so. A lot of citizens in Goodfallow mean a lot of different possibilities for whether or not they think a candidate is the best for the Good King. It can still be meddled with before the inheritance ceremony, popularity and propaganda are going to be important – the same goes for whether or not a candidate knows what they’re doing. In turn this could be what makes Grimm so arrogant in his assertions that Raven will have her mother’s destiny.

The students at Ever After High are shown to be scared of Raven to the point they scream and run away from her. At the start of the books she assumes that this is just a side effect from her destiny as her mother had mentioned that something of the sort would happen when she reached a certain age. But it could be argued that this has more to do with how bullying of Raven (or any supposedly-evil-aligned character) was encouraged by Grimm or other members of the faculty, high tensions from how close Legacy Day is for her etc. Because Raven does get more popular as the books go on, and because the characters act a similar way in the beginning of the show’s canon it could be argued that she get’s popular enough to win Thronecoming.

But it’s not just Raven’s lack of popularity. Grimm makes all the final class decisions when it comes to what subject’s students can take, so he can ensure that Raven never takes classes that would prepare her for being the Good King (Kingdom Management, Throne Economics, etc…) and then there’s the low possibility that the people of Goodfallow would accept someone who willingly signs up to potentially marry the king of a neighbouring country, abuse their power, and even get arrested or die before having kids as their Ruler. This is one case where the Storybook of Legends doesn’t need to be real for the damage to be done. And Grimm has no reason to not be arrogant about his guesses until Legacy Day where Raven declares she wants to write her own destiny on the in-verse equivalent of international television he’s not going to worry too much.

The tangent into Grimm’s motives and assumptions show that having Goodfallow’s succession system be like this will only add another layer to some of the things going on in the series, and this can even be applied to other characters too. Raven would have grown up in a kingdom where your actions mean more then what you say, so even agreeing to sign the Storybook of Legends and live her own life after would have not been in the cards for her (not to mention it would cheapen Apple’s own story if she asked that of Raven), and Queen White would have also grown up in Goodfallow given the Good King is her father as well, and that could add a really interesting layer to her own character and her obsession with popularity. Especially in the context of the Class of Classics comic which shows that Snow was once a studious student like Apple was but has now seemingly forgone that in favour of focusing on popularity (which is the same in the books as well as Dragon Games). It certainly speaks of there being more to her character then what we’ve gotten.

Now it’s just a matter of figuring out how the Good Fallow Crown works.

It seems a bit much to have someone attempt to wear the crown for the first time on their coronation, and I’m also understanding of the fact that it’s technically headwear and therefore can’t get heavier if the kingdom seems to disagree with an idea or something else – also Goodfallow isn’t a hivemind? So there would need to be some kind of inheritance test. Perhaps for officially declaring a Crown Prince or Princess.

Historically, Crown Princes or Princesses seem to given the title when they are ready for it. With the announcement happening sometime between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, unless their parents were dead, and they were ruling through a Regent. Raven is fifteen when Legacy Day takes place so sixteen seems like a more reasonable time for the ceremony to happen. Though obviously some of the kingdoms would name their children the Crown Prince or Princess earlier (I’m thinking Briar and Hopper might have been given their titles when their Magic Touch developed, given its significance to their stories).

So the sixteen year old heir would try the crown on. It would be impractical for the circle of people who can hold or lift the crown to be small a la Thor’s Hammer, especially when it’s the literal Will of the People. So, magical girl transformation?

Very basic, plain clothes are to be worn with no jewellery – because you might lose it otherwise. If the people agree with the Prince or Princess being a good candidate for the throne then they’ll get decked out in finery when the magic is a match. If not then there’s no change. (Not that that prevents rumours from spreading to the contrary).

“Rumour has it the Evil Queen tried to wear the crown once and it set her on fire.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, that’s why her hair is like that now.”

Of course, the changes don’t stop at the Inheritance Ceremony. Just because the Goodfallow Crown doesn’t get infinitely heavier when the Good King does something the people don’t agree with that doesn’t mean that nothing happens. Raven’s dad is described as being bald in the books, and I like to think that the reason for that is the people of Goodfallow not agreeing with him marrying the Evil Queen, while still understanding why he did it. But there would likely be other affects as well. Such as increased stress, anxiety, paranoia, etc. Maybe a lack of motivation in his day to day life? I don’t know, but the Goodfallow Crown does take the phrase “Heavy is the head that wears the crown” to a whole new meaning.

I love the whole thought of this, as evidenced by the fact it takes up almost three whole pages in a Word Document. Definitely one of my favourite pieces of worldbuilding I’ve done for any fandom ever.

#eah #ever after high #raven queen #the good king #queen kingdom #goodfallow #headmaster grimm #milton grimm #worldbuilding

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heart-of-tempered-steel · 4 years ago

Text

𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 // {fred weasley x ofc} preview

As soon as his gaze slid down from her slender shoulders to her neatly folded hands, he saw it.

Her hands, he mused, were small and delicate looking and usually when they were at rest when she sits, are folded neatly one atop of the other. Like bird wings.

Now, her hands were anything but resting. They were slightly fluttering.

As if something ruffled their feathers.

Summary: Fred starts to see through the cracks on the mask she wears and realizes that it wasn’t just a mask... but a full suit of armor as well.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Seri Waldren (OFC)

**Additional Note**: Face claim for Seri is Lee Ji Eun as Jang Man Wol

Warnings: Almost none except for a bit of slightly one-sided angst with a hint of enemies to friends to lovers as well as an ofc (but PLEASE give this a chance before scrolling past!!! I really worked so hard to get everything in place here! 🥺)

His eyes are a deep hazel like his twin.

However, Seri thinks to herself, staring at his side profile as he faced the fireplace, the flames casting a warm glow over his features, that in this light at least, they held a hint of mahogany in them. With the way that the light was catching in his eyes, she can see that it brought out the dark red undertone in them. She gives him a once over—steady gaze tracing his features from his hair to his eyes.

Orange.

Red.

Brown.

Like the fallen leaves that drift with the autumn breeze.

And before she thinks better of it, she is pulled into a memory.

Like the forest floor at that time when the sun was setting and its dying rays peeked through the canopy to shade everything a warm copper and bronze—the earthy smell of dirt with a hint of petrichor from last week’s rainfall; laughter echoing through flying swirls of leaves, recently scattered from a pile.

Mug of hot cider, freshly made, warming you up inside and out. Its warmth spreading from your fingertips to your head as its heady aroma of apple and cinnamon wafts up to your nose and fills you.

Pairs of strong yet gentle arms holding you—comforting you. A melody, sweet and tender as the arms you’re held by, drifts into your ears and lulls you with its lullaby.

Soft wool tickling your cheek as you nestle yourself further into the warm embrace, letting the song carry you over into a peaceful slumber. Here, you are content.

You are safe.

You are not alone.

You are loved.

And just like that, she is consumed. The sudden onslaught of the memory hurtling towards her like a tornado of broken glass, pieces of what was once a precious and tender reminiscence, now in shatters. Jagged, sharp edges were simultaneously slashing, ripping, and embedding themselves into her heart; threatening to shred through every soft layer of tissue to raw and bloody scraps.

She nearly recoils from the emotions that was all at once churning and burning her from within, fighting to keep the tempest within her contained. If she does not get a hold of herself…

She. Will. Fall. Apart.

Seri instantly turns away from Fred and lets her hair fall to the side of her face like a black curtain between them as she attempts to silently reign in her tumultuous emotions.

Her companion hears a barely suppressed, sharp intake of breath and turns his attention to her. He finds her face turned away, seemingly focusing on a spot just off to the side of the fireplace. Or at least he assumes she was staring at a spot. Her long black hair effectively blocking off his view of her face.

Her figure was stock still except for the slow and methodical breaths he can see her quietly forcing herself to take. She still held the same posture on the carpet as when he came by the fireplace to sit next to her. Back straight, legs tidily folded underneath to accommodate for the sleeping gown she was wearing underneath her silk robe, and hands resting on top of her lap.

That was where Fred found the slight difference in the way she was holding herself. As soon as his gaze slid down from her slender shoulders to her neatly folded hands, he saw it.

Her hands, he mused, were small and delicate looking and usually when they were at rest when she sits, are folded neatly one atop of the other. Like bird wings.

Now, her hands were anything but resting.

They were slightly fluttering.

As if something ruffled their feathers.

One hand still lay on top of the other but the other hand beneath was tightly curled into a fist. Its tightened grip causing her hands to faintly tremble. He had an inkling that if the other hand on top was removed, he would see the white knuckles she was making as she dug her manicured nails into the palm of her hand.

It lasted for only a moment and it was gone as soon as he saw it. As if she could feel his gaze on her, she took in a last deep breath and slowly unfurled her hand back to how it was. But it only took that one passing moment for Fred to know... that something was wrong.

“You alright, princess?”, he let out in a soft voice, his tone laced with concern.

She felt it.

Yes, she could tell he was worried over her. And not just because she was a born empath. No. She didn’t need to rely on that part of her to know that. His voice was—so gentle and soothing. Yet, it held such an intriguing blend of both boldness and apprehension to it that it didn’t want to make her pin the person who was asking under a glare of disdain. Usually, with the kind of rumors and reputation that garnered around her, there were mostly only two types of people in her life who would ask about her well-being with feigned compassion: reporters and suitors from highborn pure-blood families like hers.

One wanted to use her to stamp their name on the cover page of every magazine and newspaper.

The other wanted her hand in marriage for her wealth and, out of their archaic and medieval beliefs, to secure the continuation of their family’s pure-blood lineage.

But both were attracted to her by their uninhibited ambition.

Both wanted a piece of her to claim for themselves.

The empath part of her can sense an oily power-hungry leech like that from a mile away, eyes closed.

Although now, the empath in her was sensing something entirely different from the red head beside her.

There was concern, yes. But there was also sincerity… genuine sincerity for her and—

Oh.

There it was. Buried beneath a bundle of his nervousness and the abrupt need to reach out to her...

Kindness.

It was kindness…

And no. It wasn’t the pitiful kind of kindness that would be offered to her with condolences every time her parents’ deaths were brought up in every one of her mandatory but rare social outings. This kindness that she was sensing from him was pure and so unrestrained that it took her aback. Maybe even perturbed her a bit.

She was sensing this from the young man. The very same young man, who, along with his twin, would set off pranks to soak up the chaos they ensued. Resulting disruptive inconvenience and bodily harm to others be damned. Unapologetic and destructive, the two laid waste with their antics on and off the school grounds. Fred Weasley, one of the loud, cocky, and rambunctious devil duo pranksters of Hogwarts…

Was sitting next to her worrying about her well-being.

And Morrigan knows, with the kind of tempestuous and vitriolic relationship that they started off with—almost a week after she transferred from Ilvermorny, she’d never thought that he’d show her, let alone be capable to have this side of him. Perhaps, it was a good thing that she was already sitting down because reconciling these two sides of him was leaving her a tad disoriented.

Despite that… she lets herself welcome the feeling. She lowers her defenses a bit, letting its tendrils wrap around her senses in a warm cocoon. His earnest need to ease her out of whatever unsettled her—so honest and guileless, centers her while it melts away and soothes any residual pain that the painful memory left in her heart.

So different.

A/N: *tenatively pokes her head into the fandom* hey there! 👋 I hoped you enjoyed this “little” preview of my upcoming fred weasley drabble! I’m a newly minted fan so I wasn’t sure how my fic would fare among you older and OG fans so I decided to just post a snippet of it and see how many of you would be interested in my little project. tbh I wasn’t that into the harry potter fandom for most of my life. I did ofc watched the films when I was younger and ended up with a Daniel Radcliffe crush tht lasted up until I became a Hiddlestoner.

But other than tht I didn’t really consider myself as a potterhead.... until one rerun marathon film series drew me back into its clutches and not only got me to start reading the books but also gave me a newfound appreciation and love for the Weasley twins (especially Fred 😉). the twins deserved a better ending than tht btw. heck. almost half of the characters were done dirty by the end of the series 👀

Anyway, I didn’t expect to fall so hard for the twins considering the massive crush my 9 year old self had w/ harry potter lol. those sneaky twins really have a way of worming themselves into your heart without you ever noticing it! Now, it’s been almost two months since watching the movies and I’m still overwhelmed with all the feels about those two 😩. so this fic/drabble was sort of a cathartic release of all my pent up emotions for them. tbh this just started off with me just wanting to describe the aesthetics Fred was giving me but well... all my feelings spilled out. oops 😬

the title is based on a great song that I stumbled on YouTube called “It Takes A Lot to Know a Man” by Damien Rice and I think it fits the dilemma of Fred and Seri finding out that there’s more than what the eye can see with each other. but that’s enough of my rambling for now 😅. If u made it all the way here, congratulations! And thank you for checking out my fic! I really do appreciate the time you spend reading this as well as any feedback you can give 🙏 (the more detailed the better!) Please reblog/like if you enjoyed this as well! I really appreciate it if you could share this with some of ur friends/mutuals it really makes all the sleepless nights working on this worth it!

Also let me know if there are any grammar errors too (bc I’m def sure there are some floating up there) I’m more of a fanfic reader than a writer so this was a BEAST to get out for me!

P.S. I’m also planning to have a self-insert/reader imagine version of this and any future drabbles of this series in the future since I know how some people feel about ocs 👀

Taglist: @firewhisky-kisses @yourssuccubus (who expressed great support in helping me write this! Thanks, u two ❤️ I hope it was worth the wait!

#fred weasley x seri waldren #fred weasley #fred weasley x oc #fred weasley x reader #harry potter oc #seri waldren #fred weasley imagine #james phelps #lee jieun #lee ji eun #harry potter #hp fic: italtks #hp fic: it takes a lot to know someone

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