#added drama for good measure

[mydaddywiki]

Carroll O'Connor

Physique: Average/Husky Build Height: 5′ 10½″ (1.79 m)

John Carroll O'Connor (August 2, 1924 – June 21, 2001; aged 76) was an American actor whose television career spanned over four decades. O'Connor found widespread fame as Archie Bunker (for which he won four Emmy Awards), the main character in the CBS television sitcoms All in the Family (1971–1979) and its continuation, Archie Bunker's Place (1979–1983). O'Connor later starred in the NBC/CBS television crime drama In the Heat of the Night (1988–1995), where he played the role of police chief William "Bill" Gillespie. In the late 1990s, he played Gus Stemple, the father of Jamie Buchman (Helen Hunt) on Mad About You. In 1996, O'Connor was ranked number 38 on TV Guide's 50 Greatest TV Stars of All Time. He won five Emmys and one Golden Globe Award.

Carroll was born in Manhattan and raised in Forest Hills, a borough of Queens, New York. After graduating from high school in 1942, O'Connor joined the Merchant Marines and worked on ships in the Atlantic. In 1946, he enrolled at the University of Montana to study English. While there, he became interested in theater. During one of the amateur productions, he met his future wife, Nancy Fields, whom he married in 1951. They would later adopted their only child while in Rome, Italy in 1962 while he filmed Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s Cleopatra.

I first fell in lust with O'Connor for his role as crusty police chief William 'Bill' Gillespie on the crime drama "In the Heat of the Night." O'Connor captured my imagination so much that he still remains one of the key templates of what a daddy should be like to me. Chubby, grey hair, gentle features but with a hint 'I'll fuck you up if you cross me' added for good measure. But as hot as he looked on the show, he looked insanely gorgeous as Archie on reruns of "All in the Family." Yes a rarity for me. Liking a man when they were younger.

Even though O'Connor was nothing like his alter ego, Archie. Being shy, soft-spoken, introverted, intellectual and liberal. He had a charm that would have had me on my knees in minutes of speaking with him. Just sheer daddy perfection. He may not have been traditional-leading-man handsome, but I’ve always found Mr. O'Connor as nice looking. Listed as #20 on TV Land’s Top 50 TV Icons Countdown, but in the top five on my all time actors that I’d like to fuck senseless. O'Connor died at the age of 76 on June 21, 2001, in Culver City, California, from a heart attack brought on by complications from diabetes.

RECOMMENDATIONS: Return to Me (2000) In the Heat of the Night (TV Series 1988–1995) Archie Bunker's Place (TV Series 1979–1983) All in the Family (TV Series 1971–1979) Law and Disorder (1974) Kelly's Heroes (1970) Waterhole #3 (1967)

[theconstellationprincess]

Day 17: Shivering

Winters had never grown easier the more of them Elrond lived through. He was more susceptible to the low temperatures, and illnesses, than the other elves, and he hated the looks he would get for bundling up, so he simply… stayed cold. Gil-galad takes issue with this.

-

Elrond groaned upon waking up, pulling his blanket tighter and curling up beneath it. His teeth chattered in his mouth as he slowly stood, keeping the blanket wrapped around him as he shuffled to his closet and pulled out some winter clothing. Maedhros would kill him if he saw how poorly dressed for the weather Elrond was- he can practically hear the scolding tone echoing in his head as he slowly got changed. Elros’s cloak was the last step of the outfit, and though it did little to comfort him from the pervasive cold, it did warm him inside.

Fine tremors shake his body as he makes his way to Gil-galad’s office for his instructions, pausing a couple times to stretch and warm up when his body grew too stiff. He kept his hands tucked away in his pockets, clenched into fists to have some semblance of warmth retained within them. Keeping his head down, Elrond pretended not to notice the curious looks he got walking down the hall. It was still early in the winter, so very few- if any- elves were dressed as warmly as he was, and even this was not enough for him.

He slipped into Gil-galad’s office silently, shivering as the room revealed itself to be even colder than the hall outside. He removed his hands from his pockets and pulled on his cloak, tucking it a little closer to his body, and waited for Gil-galad to acknowledge his presence. The High King seemed very focused on what he was writing, so Elrond took the moment of peace before his day began to attempt to warm up a bit. He bent and touched the ground, then righted himself and twisted from side to side. He rolled his ankles and wrists, and then neck for good measure, and then did other various small exercises in place that would not be too distracting, but kept him warm still.

“Elrond,” Gil-galad finally greeted after several minutes had passed. Elrond perks up, looking towards his High King with a forced smile that hurts his face. He feels frozen solid, and can only hope that the shivers that run through him are not too obvious. Shaking hands fidgeted with the cloak wrapped around his shoulder again, tugging it closer to his front and pulling away when they accidentally brushed against the frigid metal pin affixing it. Celebrimbor was a very talented smith, but Elrond doubts even he could make a pin that does not grow cold.

“High King,” Elrond greets, teeth clicking loudly in the quiet of the room. Lindon is not quite awake yet, the darkness drags on this morning and many elves will not be awake for some time still. Clenching his jaw, Elrond tries to avoid the narrowing gaze of Gil-galad's eyes by peeking at the writing he was doing, lips twitching up when he recognizes the name. He does hope he will be tasked with delivering the letter to Celebrimbor, it has been far too long since he was last able to view Eregion. Gil-galad’s eyes pierce into the side of his head as Elrond shifts from foot to foot, unable to help the shiver that runs all the way down from his head to his feet. 

“Are you ill?” Gil-galad asks, and Elrond risks a glance up at him and regrets it. Gil-galad’s brow is furrowed in concern, mouth twisted into a frown that has Elrond feeling guilty for not speaking up about being cold. Gil-galad stands and steps towards him, reaching out and placing his hand on Elrond’s forehead, a common enough song and dance between them that Elrond does not pull away from the touch, suffering it with a pout instead. He is not sick, simply cold- though by the look on Gil-galad’s face, Elrond will have a hard time convincing him such. Perhaps he should have added a few more layers to his outfit, and gloves, but there has hardly been any snow yet so it feels… Elrond knows that he is not being dramatic, that he feels cold because he is cold, but it feels over the top to dress so warmly when many elves are still in autumn wear. 

“I’m not ill, simply cold. I will get used to it in time, as I do every winter.” He explains away, shifting from foot to foot because remaining still meant getting even colder. Gil-galad clicked his tongue in disapproval, and Elrond widened his eyes when he began unclasping his own- very elaborate and quite beautiful- cloak. Elrond had hardly even noticed that Gil-galad was wearing one, it is rare to see him in something other than his robes, and now he wonders why the extra layer was added. “You do not need-” Elrond is interrupted by a sharp shushing noise from Gil-galad, and shuts his mouth obediently, allowing Gil-galad to drape the cloak over his shoulders and affix it with his pin- another one of Celebrimbor’s, Elrond can tell by the intricate jewel work. 

The cloak is warm with body heat, and Elrond tucks it around himself eagerly, appreciating the added warmth. It is a comfortable weight as well, though a bit long on him due to their height difference. He looks up at Gil-galad as he pulls away from the pin, lips twisting at the satisfied nod the High King gives himself. Elrond is certain he must look ridiculous, draped in the finery intended for the High King- the warm gold certainly does not match with the cold blues of Elrond’s outfit, but the cloak is warm, and it was a gift, so who is he to deny it? “Thank you,” Elrond says softly, teeth having stopped their senseless clattering and shivers having stopped. The cloak seems to retain heat as well, he does not feel like he is getting colder anymore.

“It is of no consequence. I need my herald to be healthy as he completes his tasks.” Gil-galad replies casually, waving off Elrond’s words as he turns back towards the desk and shuffles through the papers. Elrond allows himself a private grin as Gil-galad sorts through the mess, because he so often tells the High King he must be more organized with his papers, and Gil-galad never listens. As he waits, he inspects the cloak more thoroughly, tracing the intricate patterns with his eyes and amusing himself by attempting to find shapes within the lines. “Ah! Here it is.” Gil-galad exclaims, passing over a sheet of parchment to Elrond with a smile, “Much to do today, I’m afraid. Do let me know if you require assistance.” Elrond accepts the paper with a hum, looking over the list carefully and sighing fondly.

“Of course, High King.” Elrond replies, saying his goodbyes and taking his leave. It does not surprise him that, in Elrond’s distraction, Gil-galad had added an extra step to the bottom of the list (which truly was not too long, Gil-galad always seemed so dramatic when giving Elrond his instructions for the day) which read ‘Stay warm.’ Elrond chuckled to himself, and then set off to the library for some quiet to write today's speeches.

[senditcolton]

I've Got the Good Side of Things

Recording their favorite show on the DVR because you know they’ll be in a little late tonight and miss it. And them being somewhat surprised that you didn’t watch it without them.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by anon | word count: 0.8k | warnings: none!

The group chat you had with your friends was muted on Monday at 8pm sharp. A quick text, a small explanation, and then your phone was set to do not disturb.

Normally, you would be right there in that text thread, shooting off multiple messages, probably using too many capital letters, exclamation points, and rose emojis. That was the norm when you watched The Bachelor and when it came to the “Women Tell All” … the drama was increased by a thousand and so were the reactions they brought.

However, Mat was away on a long road trip and wouldn’t be able to watch it with you.

He told you before he left that he didn’t mind if you watched it without him – after all, you’ve watched previous episodes alone because consistent Monday nights off weren’t in the cards when Mat had to report to UBS Arena or hop on a plane more often than not.

But you knew that his favorite thing to do was sit on the couch next to you and watch the drama that came when a group of thirty-two women competed for the attention of one man. Which is why, in your mind, you absolutely could not watch the Women Tell All without him.

So, the group chat was muted and instead of Joey attempting to find love on your screen, the New York Islanders were attempting to get pucks into the Dallas Stars net. The small red light on your DVR indicated that The Bachelor was being recorded, ready to be watched when Mat came back home.

The game ends with an Islanders victory but you wait until that red light disappears before texting Mat.

‘Great game!’ you message him, adding blue and orange heart emojis at the end for good measure. It isn’t long until Mat replies.

‘Thanks babe. How was The Bachelor?’

‘Pretty entertaining,’ you type. Your response was a slight lie. You were sure that it was entertaining as hell but you didn’t have any proof to back up your statements. Thankfully, Mat didn’t ask for proof.

‘Can’t wait to watch it when I get back.’

You smile to yourself, looking around the apartment as you think forward four days. The image of you curled up into Mat’s side, a hefty glass of wine each appears easily in your mind but it is shortly followed by a different image. You look around, planning out the idea that had filled your mind.  

Why not make a night it?

~ four days later ~

It took time and effort but you were ready. Plates were filled with Mat’s favorite home-cooked meal and glasses were filled with red wine, waiting on the coffee table to be consumed. The Bachelor on the television, paused on the title card, and a frankly ridiculous number of roses were scattered around your apartment.

It is silly how giddy you are, standing near your front door and bouncing on the balls of your feet as you wait for Mat to arrive. He texted you, asking if it was still alright if he came over that evening and you couldn’t say yes fast enough. You couldn’t wait to see his face – both in general and to see his reaction to your crazy plan.

A knock echoes around the room and the sound hadn’t even dissipated before you’re swinging the door open, coming face to face with Mat. You watch as his crooked smile appears and he wastes no time sweeping you into a hug.

“I missed you,” he mumbles against your shoulder.

“I missed you too.” You pull away from him and hold your arms out. “Welcome back!” you say, watching as Mat gazes around the space, taking in the state of your studio apartment.

“What’s all this?” he asks, bewildered, his eyes returning to yours.

“I lied to you. I didn’t watch The Bachelor on Monday because I wanted to watch it with you,” you explain.

“You didn’t watch it?”

Your reply is a small nod of your head.

“You made my favorite meal and decorated the apartment just so we could watch it together?”

Another nod.

“And you blew off your friends group chat? Even when I told you it was okay to watch it without me?”

You nod again, although the action this time is a little timid, a sliver of doubt blooming in your chest at his cascade of questions. Was it too much? Was it too weird? The nerves remain until that stupidly infectious smile spreads across his face.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Jesus, don’t scare me like that, Mat!” you exclaim, swatting his chest, a laugh falling from both of you.

“I figured I’d get us in the mood. Create some drama, y’know?” he explains, grabbing your hand as he makes his way to couch with you in tow. You settle down next to him, picking up your wine and the remote before curling into his side.

“I think that this episode will have enough drama without your help,” you chirp, pressing play and hearing applause from the studio audience resonate from the speakers. Mat’s arm comes around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him in order to press a small kiss into your hair.

[queers-gambit]

The Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) masterlist

requesting rules and masterlist

requests are OPEN where to watch: Disney+

Curiosity Killed The Cat

after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

word count: 5.1k+

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

🎭 drama ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🦋 modern AU 💸 mafia AU 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 brief depiction of physical violence and / or aggression 🫠 description of self-destruction 🔏 barely edited

read here

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.

The Boss passes away, and at the reading of his Last Will and Testament, your lover, Bucky, is named successor - not his older (adopted) brother, John. tension breaks at the funeral.

word count: 4k+

🎭 drama ❤️‍🩹 not much hurt, not much comfort 💸 Mafia AU 🐍 toxic family ☠️ mention of deceased family member 🥊 depiction of physical violence and / or aggression 🔏 barely edited 😵‍💫 wonky brain go wonky

read here

Damage Done

The Winter Soldier is activated and Bucky's lover is unlucky enough to be in proximity.

word count: 5.4k+

🎭 drama 🧸 a little fluff for added measure 💔 small angst 🥰 small romance ❤️‍🩹hurt and comfort 🐑 filler 💣 relationship angst 💍 established relationship ⚠️ small spoilers 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 depiction of physical violence and / or aggression 🩸 depiction of blood and injury 🔫 mentions of guns 🧠 Winter Soldier / mental health

read here

Alpine

in an effort to help your boyfriend with his trauma, you rescue a furry feline together - a white cat named, Alpine - who rescues you both in return.

word count: 6.9k+

🧸 some fluff 🎭 bit of drama 💔 small angst 🥰 tiny romance ❤️‍🩹 mostly hurt and comfort 💍 established relationship ⚠️ small small small spoilers 🙊 general language warning ✝️ Lord's name in vain 🧠 mental health / trauma 🔏 not edited!

read here

Adore Her, Dior Her

what good is having all that money if he can't spend it on the woman he loves?

word count: 4.3k+

💸 Mafia AU 🧸 fluff 🙊 general language warning 🔏 not edited

read here request found here

requesting rules and masterlist

[silverskye13]

how do u write fighting or do u have any tips? i have an idea for a fanfic not mcyt related but im terrified ill write the fight scene poorly as it makes up a majority of the fic.

Fighting and fight scene tips! I have a couple I guess! The tricky thing is fight scenes are really subjective. It's hard to give a "and here's all the puzzle pieces you need for a good one" kinda answer. But I can at least tell you the stuff I think about while I'm writing.

You know the drill, writing tips under the cut:

1. Research

I feel like I put this on every tip list. Research the thing you're doing. The Internet is your greatest friend and confidante. Look up YouTube videos of fighting competitions. Look up the weapons your characters are using. Figure out how many bullets are in the magazine for the gun type your character is using. Research how far you have to be to survive that explosion. Figure out if the cool sword breaker was actually useful in combat and why. Get a reasonable measure for how much blood your blorbo can lose before they pass out. This will help you paint a clear picture for yourself about what needs to happen, and why. Your readers don't necessarily have to have that clear picture, but the more you, the writer, know, the more likely you are to write a consistent, understandable narrative.

2. Character POV is important!

What does your character even know about fighting anyway? <- the most important question to ask of your POV character. This establishes what your character can tell your audience about what's going on. Has your character never fought before? Are they familiar with the weapons used? Do they know counters for fighting styles? Do they even know how to throw a punch? Do they have a high pain tolerance? These things will inform how the character informs us, the readers, about what's going on. Generally speaking, lack of consistency is what makes fight scenes frustrating, in my opinion. Sitting there and going "hey wait, how did that teenager know better battle tactics than the general they're fighting?" Takes you out of the moment and ruins whatever cool thing that teenager just did. Going "hold on, what do you mean the sniper didn't realize he was out of bullets?" Does the same thing. Keeping the characters consistent stops your readers from questioning the validity of the scene.

3. What can your readers see, and is it the same as what the characters see?

Similar to above, but a little more meta. Fight scenes are often played for drama. You're putting the character in peril, and that peril is for a reason: to make the audience have an emotional response. Can the readers see an ambush because of your 3rd person omniscient perspective, but the characters can't? Is that a good thing? Will it ruin the shock and surprise of the ambush, or will it induce dread and up the stakes? The enemy has a poisoned sword. Is this obvious to the audience in a way that isn't for the character? This is playing with suspense in a fight, adding and subtracting stakes for the readers, and it needs to be balanced against what the characters know.

I'm mentioning this as a thing because revealing your hand to the audience can be a really interesting way to add suspense, but if the audience feels like a character should've been able to see it coming [ex. How come the assassin didn't anticipate someone poisoning a blade during a fight?] it ruins the immersion of the scene, and makes it feel like you the author are shoving the characters in a direction. Generally speaking if the readers can see the hand of the author moving, it breaks immersion.

[Notably, I don't write in 3rd person omniscient. I write in 3rd person limited. I don't often have a chance or reason to reveal information to the audience that the main character doesn't know, because the audience is observing the world through that character.]

4. What are the guys in the back doing?

Everyone knows the Main Character has to fight the Antagonist at some point, but normally the MC isn't alone. They have friends and allies, or their pet dog. They have a supporting cast, and that supporting cast wants to help the main character. So... where are they exactly? A pitfall I see in Big Final Fight Scenes pretty often is, the MC brings an army, or their crew, or their super friends or whoever, and yet somehow, they end up fighting the bad guy alone, and the writer just... Doesn't address the other people in the room. And you the reader are left going, "Wait, why is no one intervening?" This gets especially immersion breaking when the main character inevitably starts losing their fight [because drama, few fights are easy]. Our MC might die! Why is no one trying to run even a basic distraction on the Antag? This isn't to say you have to have your supporting cast get involved in the final fight -- sometimes you need that solo showdown! But you do have to have a convincing reason to keep the rest of the cast away. If we the readers are under the impression there's six other people in the room just standing there, because you the writer forgot they were there, it gets kinda awkward.

5. Zoom in! Feel it. Zoom out! See it.

Okay so, you now know: Basic information on how your character(s) fight, what your POV character(s) know, what the readers can see (either the same or different from your characters), and you know where everyone is and what they're doing. You have your god's eye view ready. How do you show it?

Zoom in, zoom out.

There is a balance to fight scenes, in about the same way there is a balance to an art piece. There is a foreground, middle ground, and background. Each have importance, each need focus. The foreground is what is happening immediately in front of your POV character, it's their thoughts, what their weapon feels like, any wounds they've taken. It's bullet time, and observations, and right in their face. The middle ground is the surrounding 5-10ft. It's the people beside them, it's what's just past their opponent. It's the rest of the room, or the sound just out of view, or the object just out of reach. The background is everything past that. It's distant explosions. It's their friend getting wounded. It's an archer on the next rooftop.

How much of that you want your audience to see, how you want to vary that, depends on what you as an author view as important. If you want to focus more on the character, their struggle, their opponent, you will write most of the fight scene in the foreground. Focus on what the character feels, the sensation of movement, the pain, fear, exhilaration. Focus on the words they're saying [or not saying]. Focus on what they know, what they're telling the audience. If you want to highlight the battle, how the main character is working in their surroundings, you will focus on the middle ground. This is what the character looks like from an outside perspective, how they fight against their opponent. This is them trying to reach an item, or shove their opponent into something. This is running, and kicking, and trying to figure out if your friend is still by your side. This is seeing your comrade go down out of the corner of your eye, or admiring someone's fighting style, or screaming orders at someone. The background is anything further away, a distant problem that is putting on pressure. A ticking time bomb. This is the building catching fire, the lightning in the storm overhead. This is superman fighting off the alien army while your MC is trying to kill the general. This is you reminding the audience the rest of the world hasn't stopped turning while the MC has been doing MC things.

Generally speaking, I like to move through all three spaces several times during a fight scene? The main character is hurting and holding onto their sword, and breathing is hard. The antag is pressing the advantage, trying to back them through the space. But they can't lose too much ground, because their friend is fighting the second antag over there, and they're bleeding from a fresh cut. They have to win, they have to escape, because the sound outside says the building is groaning on its foundation-- and the main character stumbles as the building rocks. [And I've just moved through all three types of ground, giving the audience a clear view of what's happening].

You don't have to bounce reliably through the space. Not showing the background for a long time means you can surprise your audience with a new hero or villain swooping in! Or leave us in suspense about that magic ritual we're supposed to be stopping. Not showing a middle ground side character implies your MC is so distracted they won't know their friend is hurt until it's too late -- etc.

If it helps, I like to imagine there's a little invisible camera panning around, taking dramatic shots of everything, like you're making a movie, and writing accordingly.

Uhm!! Hopefully that's helpful?

Some broader quick tips:

Fight scenes are very fast, and generally happen over a period of a few minutes. That time will feel significantly longer because it's jammed packed with Stuff Happening, but the fact remains, it's only a few minutes. Keeping the timing in mind helps you figure out if backup can arrive to help, or if it's reasonable for someone to miss the fight happening, etc,

On that note, if it's a battle specifically, battles [especially medieval ones] are short. They don't last all day, unless they're a siege, and even then, sieges are long periods of digging in and waiting with short clashes peppered around.

This might just be me, but try not to overuse metaphors? We get it. The swordsmen look like they're dancing. But not everything they do is graceful or dancer-y. Sometimes you can just say "and he punched him in the face." Unless your writing style is naturally super flowery, in which case, do continue. Consistency is key.

Do some basic research on wounds. Suspension of disbelief can only carry so far, and pain is genuinely debilitating. Also, yes coughing up blood is a very dramatic "the character is dying" cue, but in real life it only happens on very bad lung/throat wounds. If what you're writing is Super Realistic, maybe don't throw that in there.

Write confusion with care. You might not want your audience to know what's going on all the time, but if your audience genuinely can't figure out what's going on, why something is happening, or who it's happening to, you will eventually lose your immersion.

Write comedy with care. If your fight is non-serious, or if your character in a serious fight doesn't normally take things seriously, jokes are allowed to happen. But sometimes if you don't take it seriously enough, you will chop the knees off your drama. Maybe save some of the jokes for after the life-threatening battle is over.

I think! That's everything I can think of just now! I hope it helps :'D

[eddies-disability-swag-blog]

Disability Swag Summit 2!!

The Swag Summit is back!

Now with some improvements.

I’ve added different categories to display and represent a wider array of characters and disabilities throughout the competition.

Also, since my goal is representation, you can submit any character with disabilities as major or “minor” as you want.

Also, head canons and coding are allowed, just mark them as such in the form.

The categories go as follows:

Motor

Here go characters with movement disabilities, like paralysis, missing a limb, or not being able to coordinate your body. Here go people with club foot, Parkinson’s, flat feet, dyspraxia, tic related disabilities, cerebral palsy, paraplegia, amputees, mobility aid users, etc.

Visceral

Here go characters with disabilities related to their internal organs, endocrine system, immune system, amongst other systems inside of your body. Disabilities in this category may include asthma, autoimmune disorders, allergies, chronic pain, diabetes, PCOS, fibromyalgia, IBS, skin conditions, amongst others.

Sensory

Here go characters with disabilities related to their senses, be it sight (blindness, colour blindness, cataracts, astigmatism, photosensitivity, etc), touch/pain (CIPA, Hyposthesia, Dysesthesia, etc.), hearing (deafness, being hard of hearing, etc), smell (anosmia, phantosmia, etc), taste (Ageusia, Hypogeusia, etc) or a combination of different senses (like synesthesia).

Speech

Pretty straight forward, disabilities related to speech, be it selective mutism, speech impediments, full on mutism or other speech related disabilities.

Physical differences

Catch all term for people who were born or developed some sort of physical difference. Idk if it counts as a disability, but we’re looking to represent as many people as possible here so. Here go people who are missing limbs, visible organs or pretty much any body part, people who use prosthetics, people with extra body parts (that are actually not normally supposed to be there, don’t fill this category with bug people and aliens) people with deformities, scars, conjoined twins, little people, people with gigantism, etc.

Neurodivergent

Since different types of Neurodivergencies overlap so much, I feel like separating them would make my job 10 times more difficult, so I decided to lump together Cognitive, Info-processing, Psycosocial, Learning, and other mental disabilities. Here go characters with Autism, Dementia, DID, Schizophrenia, brain damage, PTSD, OCD, Tourette’s, dyslexia, etc.

Other

Those who do not fit under other categories, be it because I forgot, because it’s not really categorizable or because it’s a fantasy disability (if the fantasy disability is close enough to one of the other categories, put it there too for good measure).

And finally

Rules!

1- No real people. Live action characters are fine, but I feel kinda uncomfortable putting actual real living (or historical) human beings here. Maybe you can submit a disabled real animal if you want, but no people.

2- Preferably positive or neutral representation, please. As in, I rather not see blatantly ableist media represented here, there’s better representation out there, but if you really have to, I guess do whatever you want.

3- Be civil. This is for fun and not to be taken seriously. If you manage to spark drama or harassment out of this silly and fun competition, you are going to the dungeon.

4- Don’t make submissions in the asks. The asks are for questions and propaganda, make your submissions in the form.

5- Propaganda is allowed and highly encouraged! Either share it in the asks, at @eddies-disability-swag-blog or tag it as #disability swag summit

6- Should go without saying, but, like, bigotry is cringe, so, like, don’t do it?

Anyways, here’s the form! Submit away!

The Form will close on December 25 (May be earlier or later depending on the number of submissions), so make sure to submit your blorbos by then!

[schwanemannsland]

Bill Collins and Self Curruption

I've had this personal theory ever since the ninth episode of Urbanspook released that, in short, Bill Collins was willing to enter this lifestyle with Mona at the beginning. Of course, this relationship (both as killer and as lovers) was incredibly one-sided at the end with Mona taking full control of Bill's every thought and action, but I have a hard time believing Bill was forced into this at the very start.

Bill Collins is by all means an American Joe-Schmoe; he has an honorable career in his local police force, he has a wife, he has children, he has that white picket fence type dream that every man strives for. Yet, despite all that, there comes a major catch: predictability. No matter how one obtains this nuclear family life it all runs upon the same script. No matter what he has to implement himself in events like anniversaries, holidays, family, vacations, school related events, that obligatory family drama, and don't get me started about the added stress of having to focus on paying taxes, the mortgage, what will and what won't insurance will cover, what trouble his kids caused, how much a new car repair will cost, and so forth and so forth. This American dream becomes a living nightmare once you have to juggle money and family relations that, at the end of the day, will amount to nothing and will never end with your deeds being thanked.

It's a monotonous life that I can't see a person like Bill Collins enjoying. At most, he would have forced himself into a delusion of enjoyment due to societal pressures and the need to abide by normalcy. This is all something he could never control so, to go completely against such routine, is the ultimate form of freedom. To live his life vicariously through his primal id with the removal of social and familial obligations isn't that insane of a concept for a middle aged man to commit. Yet, we are swayed to believe that he could never commit such actions. We, the audience, are fed this idea of "honor" and "respect" despite the lack of evidence outside of his job title as a police officer. 

This goes into my next point: he became a police officer for purely selfish reasons that had no relation to protecting the community he works for. I know, shocker; a bad police officer. I won't baby feed anybody on how corrupt the police system in America is, so I'll just focus more on the specifics of Bill Collins' career. Despite the gritty reality, we are told this idea of the police. We are told that an officer of the law can't be just anyone, but someone dedicated to the people. Someone who will put their life on the line to bring peace and justice when the citizens couldn't. We are told that this title is something only morally correct people can obtain. Bill very much goes against this ideology. I have a hard time believing that someone that easily became a bloodthirsty hedonist was a good cop to begin with. In fact, I am inclined to believe his desires for violence poked its head while on the line. 

Maybe Bill found himself jumping to physical restraint and assaulting suspects with weapons much quicker than his colleagues. Maybe he even jumps to the most drastic measure for small incidents like speeding or running a red light. Hell, maybe he seriously injured a convict for "justifiable reasons". Whatever it may be, violent tendencies don't pop out of nowhere for a person and a man that's in an environment that not only allows physically harming suspects, but encourages it isn't too far fetched. This could even go deeper if true with his actions being easily covered up by the department due to either image, his attitude and charisma, him being able to get his job done no matter what or a mix of all three. With such a small town, it would be a disaster if one or more officers were openly tried for misconduct and assault so it would be better to look the other way. We can't have the perception of the "good, morally correct cop" being questioned. 

The final point I want to cover is how convenient everything went in his favor once he and his family got affected by Mona. Think about it: he is spared from being killed, has had major pieces of evidence that pointed towards him being involved was destroyed (his car being abandoned in the ocean) or cleaned away (there was no mention of fingerprints or further murders besides hi infant once his house was investigated), and how he of all people obtained the killer's self portrait right before his home invasion. It's hard to believe Mona spared him nor that she would easily overpower a man like him, even with a weapon on hand. I'm inclined to believe he jumped at the opportunity to execute his family with Mona perhaps due to a spur-of-the-moment decision or a premeditated one crafted beforehand. Either way, the actions following didn't seem to benefit Mona in the slightest. Why would she destroy and abandon Bill's car? She never seemed concerned about leaving her prints behind nor was it going to deter the police away from her scent due to its placement by the lighthouse. If anything, it hindered her since she had to go about abandoning a car without the plate being read nor noticed in such a small town. The only reason she would need to get rid of the vehicle is if she wanted to wash away and hide incriminating evidence against Bill. 

We can further inspect this theory by looking at Mona's first painting of Bill. The painting is incredibly interesting in how it depicts a supposed victim due it being one of the most simplistic portraits so far (even "Scream Maggy Scream" had deep violets and hints of pink) with it being only black and white with the face itself being a cartoonishly bland one with two small eyes and a tiny smile on an elongated face. It doesn't show him being tortured nor in any sort of distress. It doesn't even have a puny title alluding to his demise with it just being dubbed "Bill Collins" (of course there is no sign of her giving it an official name so even assuming its named after Bill would be a stretch). With a quick glimpse it has a lot of striking resemblance to how Mona appears: pale skin, very smooth features, sunken in eyes, and a very simple yet off putting representation of human emotions. The only major difference is that he's popularly shown smiling, before and after Mona's involvement. It's safe to assume Mona is trying to reveal how similar she sees Bill and herself, from either actions, personality, or a mix of both. 

Now, the series isn't finished so Mona's reasoning for attacking the Collins family can easily go against everything I said. Maybe it all was just a coincidence and Bill really was that sweet hearted Joe-Schmoe. Maybe the painting towards him was made just to poke fun at how he looks and nothing more. Only time will tell. But, all and all, I believe Bill had a much bigger involvement than we are led to believe and is no better than Mona when it comes to that lust for sadistic torture. 

[serasfanfiction]

Cw for blood. No gore, tho. Cw in tags as well. Mostly Alastor being Alastor.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

If Lucifer didn't know any better, he would have sworn Alastor was going out of his way to make certain they ran into each other.

He seemed to be everywhere.

It didn't help that whatever he was doing, Alastor had seemingly decided to pull out all the stops. Horrifically enough, he was good at just being there, right as Lucifer would turn around, watching and waiting as if to see how long it would take the little king to notice him.

(And if he had damn near shrieked the first time it had happened? Well, no one else was around, so who would hold him to it?)

After a week of this, Lucifer was starting to feel twitchy. It was difficult to tell if he was actually sensing eyes on him like a second skin or if he was just being paranoid. The only place he felt any relief was in his own room, which he might have taken to hiding in when it all became too much.

It felt like being stalked. Like he was being hunted.

Lucifer growled to himself, frustrated he had been driven to such drastic measures. Yes, he could totally stand up for himself! He was significantly more powerful than that petty little sinner! He just really, really didn't want to deal with all of this. There was a reason he avoided senseless drama.

He groaned, throwing off his covers and forcing himself out of bed. Enough, he thought to himself. This had gone on far too long and it was past time he and a certain Radio Demon had a little chat.

He donned his suit, building up his armor like he was going to war. Which, he supposed, he sort of was. He settled his hat in place and grabbed his cane, aware he was doing all of this over a lowly sinner, Overlord or not, but he felt the uncontrollable urge to remind Alastor which of them was actually the King of Hell and which of them wasn't.

He was self aware enough to appreciate that if this really was just a matter of the Ruler of Hell putting a sinner in his place he wouldn't have needed to have put on his uniform, but Alastor had gotten under his skin and everyone already knew it.

There was no point in looking for Alastor. Based off of previous behavior, the red head would simply come to him.

Lucifer deliberately kept to public enough areas to invite company, while still being private enough that Alastor would be tempted to sneak up on him.

And Alastor did not disappoint.

Lucifer spotted him out of the corner of his eye while getting lunch. Triumphant, he spun around and pointed an accusing finger. "You!"

Alastor's ever present smile ticked ever-so-slightly wider, but it wasn't showing teeth yet. "And how can I help you today, your Majesty?"

"We need to talk," Lucifer stated, tone brokering no disagreements. Not that the other Hellion was protesting. "Now."

Alastor tilted his head to the side at just the right angle to be unnerving, hands folding behind his back. "Are you actually going to talk to me or are you going to run away again?"

Lucifer allowed himself a deep, calming breathe. Allowed Alastor to see it. The released exhale was hot enough for a whisp of smoke to escape.

There was still no teeth, but it seemed like it was only barely.

"We both know the only reason I've tolerated your behavior is because I promised not to fight with you."

Alastor raised on eyebrow, asking without verbalizing it as to if this wasn't a potential fight.

Lucifer crossed his arms to keep from wrapping his hands around that scrawny little neck. "And I want to keep my promise, but to do that, we need to get whatever you've been going through this last week out of your system."

Alastor laughed, false and mocking. "Ha! I assure you, I have no idea what you mean."

The blonde refused to rise to the bait. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we are doing this." He smiled, tone generous as he added, "I'll even be nice and let you chose if we're having this talk in your room or mine."

Alastor considered him, body language giving away nothing. "You'd give the familiar ground to a potential enemy?"

Lucifer waved a hand at the room in general. "One could argue anywhere in Hell is my territory." He hummed lightly. "But in all honesty, even if your room - the one I built for you - could be considered enemy ground," here he leaned in to make his point, "There's nothing you could do to seriously harm me if I don't let you."

There it was again: the flicker of the dials. It was written all over him that Alastor wanted nothing more than to take that as a challenge and to put that theory to the test.

Lucifer welcomed him to try if it meant they could move on from this - whatever this was. Because that statement wasn't a theory, it was a fact.

Alastor reigned himself back in until not even a hint remained of his control slipping. "My room, if you don't mind. Shall we go?" He held out a hand, gesturing for Lucifer to take the lead.

Which, nope. He was not turning his back on this guy at this point in the game.

With a snap of his fingers, red smoke wrapped itself around them. It was showy and unnecessary, but it was worth it for the way a brief spasm of panic tightened Alastor's smile at just how easily Lucifer could just straight up kidnap him if he wanted to.

Which was good. Let him chew on that tidbit for a while.

They reappeared in the Radio Demon's quarters. The basics had been done per what Vaggie (with a V!) had been able to remember, as she was the only member of the hotel who'd seen Alastor's room. They'd left his personal touches to him, but an honest effort had been put into rebuilding the structure of it.

Glancing off to his right, Lucifer could see that Alastor had rather impressively bent reality (like the elderich creature he was) to morph half of the room into what appeared to be a bayou. It gave the impression that the room was significantly larger than it was. The residue of the magic it took to pull off such a stunt made his teeth itch, the same kind of wrongness the original bar had had.

Various other personal effects had worked their ways around the room. Some of the more interesting ones were the array of trophy skulls, both human and animal, decorating the walls. He had little doubt that Alastor had hunted, skinned, and mounted every one of them himself. The only real question was if they were original to the room pre the hotel's destruction? Or were they... newer?

By the time he turned his attention back to the owner of the room, said owner had had more than enough time to regain his composure. Lucifer was a little sorry he'd allowed Alastor the break, but he did genuinely want to resolve whatever the hell was going on between them. Being stern when needed was fine, but he didn't want to push Alastor so hard he snapped unless he had to.

Lucifer tapped the fingers of his predominant hand against his arm, all weight on one foot and ready to start tapping the other if necessary. He gave Alastor an expectant look. "Well?"

Alastor was nothing if not up for a fight. He may have been knocked off balance, but he was clearly up to being ornery as pay back. With an air of boredom, he inspected his claws, as if looking for nonexistent dirt. "Well, what, my dear king?"

Lucifers fingers didn't pause. "Don't play coy, it doesn't look good on you." He was pleased with the narrowed eyes he got in response. "What has this last week been about? You've been acting weird." Lucfier waved a hand in Alastor's general direction. Added, "Well, weird for you."

Alastor's irritation smoothed out at the implication that Lucifer paid enough attention to him to have come to some conclusion about what might constitute as 'weird behavior.' He hummed lightly, the noise oddly soothing in a way. "Very well, if you must insist. Just don't get angery if you don't like the answer."

Lucifer frowned. Angry? About what?

All thoughts were cut off as Alastor melted away into his shadows (and when the heck had his shadow gotten that close? He hadn't even seen it move). The thought crossed Lucifer's mind that he should have warded the room to keep the sinner from leaving, but ultimately, he needn't have worried.

Well, about Alastor trying to run away.

Because he really should have known better.

He realized where Alastor had gone, just as he could hear the unmistakable sound of someone taking a deep breathe right in his ear.

Lucifer could feel every single one of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as that breathe was exhaled against his neck, sweat breaking out across his skin as a shiver ran through his body. The only reason he didn't yelp was because he was too busy choking on his own tongue.

Dignity be damned, the King of Hell nearly teleported across the room, hand slapping up against his neck. Eyes widen in horror, he brandished his cane like a rod. "Wha-- what in the seven rings of Hell was that!?"

Alastor watched him like a cat watches a mouse it's having fun playing with. "You asked what had gotten into me." He folded his hands behind his back, as if he hadn't just been sniffing the Devil himself. "That was... curiosity."

Lucifer stared at him incredulously. "Curiosity?" He laughed, a little forced as he tried to reign in his too-fast heartbeat. "If you were curious how I smelled, you could have just asked."

Alastor raised an eyebrow to that and Lucifer belatedly realized he'd just implied all someone potentially had to do was ask to smell him and he might let them do it.

Lucifer flushed but refused to correct his statement.

"Hm, how quaint." Alastor leaned in eye so slightly, just to see Lucifer unconsciously lean back. "Rest assured, it isn't quite so simple."

A pause lulled between them as the blond waited for the rest of the explanation. When he failed to receive one, he waved a hand impatiently for the red head to get on with it.

Alastor turned enough he could look out into his bayou without completely losing track of his guest. The motion drew Lucifer's attention to the area, although he didn't dare take his eyes off the serial killer.

"Has anyone told you what my dish of choice is?"

The question confused Lucifer and his impatience made him feel irritated by what felt like a non-sequitur in the conversation. He'd heard Alastor was a cannibal, so he assumed it was other sinners. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Alastor rolled his eyes, gesturing out into the bayou.

As if on cue, a tree branch snapped closer to the edge of the trees in the distance. Lucifers eyes snapped to whatever had made the noise, making eye contact with ...a deer?

Lucifer stared, that feeling of being hunted roiling over him as it dawned on him what had happened. He didn't have to look at the Radio Demon to know he was watching him like a predator watches his prey.

Lucifer swallowed, hard. "I... I don't know what you..."

There was no mercy, no quarter in Alastor's eyes as he near stalked over to the Devil. His smile was all teeth as he ran a finger along the brim of Lucifer's hat. "When I saw those ears, I was curious if you would still taste like an angel or if you might taste like something more to my ...preferences."

Lucifer was fairly certain his brain was short circuiting. Some wire must have gotten crossed, because what came out of his mouth wasn't 'you're a freak,' it was:

"If you got your taste, you'll back off?"

The two stared at each other, Lucifer unsure who was more surprised by the question.

Alastor's grin was every inch as wicked as everyone only thought the actual Devil was but really wasn't. "Are you offering a deal?" The hand he'd used to near caress Lucifer's hat fell into the offer of a hand shake.

It was Lucifer's turn to roll his eyes. He shook his head vigorously. "Nope! No deals!" He glared, slapping the hand aside. "You'll likely find some wiggle room no sane person would think to look for and I am not interested in being on the menu indefinitely."

Alastor didn't even bother to look contrite. He simply looked disappointed. Since the offer wasn't on the table, he withdrew his hand and straightened his posture. "Then what are you proposing?"

Yes, self, Lucifer thought, what are we proposing? He felt like he'd lost all direction in this conversation because he had no clue how his day had gone from 'put Alastor in his place' to 'let's let an actual cannibal bite us.'

Lucifer grasped for the last shreds of his dignity, realizing that he might have finally found something that ranked high enough to be added to the Top 5 Insane Things I've Done For My Kid list. It didn't stop the ever-so-slight tremor from creeping in, even as he tried for stern, as he offered, "I'll bring back the deer attributes, you get to satify your curiosity, and then we go back to whatever our usual is."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "To be clear: I get to draw blood and you won't retaliate?"

There was no official deal, but it still felt like they were making one. "Yeah." Lucifer shifted, trying to shake off the last of his nerves and at least seem like he was confident. He was still absolutely sure Alastor couldn't deal him damage faster that he could heal from it, but his nerves didn't want to settle. "You get a freebie, no punishment or retaliation, in exchange for returning to the status quo."

Alastor's teeth sharpened visibly, the room growing darker around them.

"Deal."

Still feeling like this was going to come back and bite him in the ass - or, well, neck or arm, if one was being literal - at some point in the future, Lucifer made his way over to one of the chairs near the room's fireplace. He set his hat down on the seat, before pulling off his coat. He had a feeling this was going to be messy. Neck wounds often were, and he had a feeling Alastor wouldn't be satisfied with being offered anything else. He regretted the amount of layers he'd dressed in, even as he used untying his bow tie and unbuttoning the first several buttons of his shirt as a desperately needed delay tactic to simply breathe through what he was about to do.

Judging by the indulgence he could almost hear coming from Alastor's spot in the room, he held no such disillusions as to if the red head knew that he was stalling.

Taking a deep, steadying breathe, he pulled the shift over himself, falling deeper into it than he had during the trust exercise. Blond ears flicked into existence around small antlers on his head. Goat hooves morphed subtly into deer ones. A fluffy, equally blond tail twitched slightly at the base of his spine, in mirror of his anxiety.

Burrowing it all down, down, down, Lucifer gripped the edge of his shirt, yanking it down as he spun around, finally allowing a grin fit for his reputation to spread across his face from ear to ear. Tilting his head to the side in invitation, he asked, "Well, Alastor? What are you waiting for?"

Alastor control snapped with an audible static screech. Moving across the room with a speed that had kept him alive during his fight with Adam, Alastor near pounced onto his prize. The force of their collision sent them toppling to the floor, Lucifer's head just barely missing the seat of the chair. The impact with the ground drove the air from his lungs, and Lucifer didn't have the chance to even attempt to recover as he felt razor-sharp teeth sink into the tender flesh of his throat.

Lucifer's body spasmed as it attempted to draw in air, lungs needing a second to remember how to work and he was startled by the pain of attack despite knowing it was coming. He was finally able to draw a desperately needed gasp in as those teeth withdrew. Lucifer could feel it even without seeing the damage that of course Alastor had gone deep. It was definitely going to take him a hot second for it to heal, but heal it already was.

The Radio Demon, seeming to realize this, sunk his teeth in again. Lucifer's hands flew up to grab onto Alastor's arms at the new wave of agony coursed through him, squirming as he resisted the urge to shove the larger figure off of him. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood himself as he braced himself for Alastor taking his pound of flesh.

There was a creak, like bone grating against each other. Alastor shifted, teeth unmoving as he moved. As he made himself more comfortable, Lucifer realized as the shock of it finally began to abate and adrenaline flooded his system in response to the trauma. He had to swallow down the urge to laugh, knowing it would be more hysterics than actual humor.

He grunted as those teeth withdrew, surprisingly without taking a chunk of his neck with it. He was confused until he felt a warm, wet tongue slide over the wounds, chasing blood the color of gold regardless of what form the seraphim donned. Without meaning to, Lucifer flinched at the odd sensation. It was not quite pain, but not quite soothing.

As the pain began to recede, Alastor seemingly merely content to fill himself up with one of the rarest delicacies in Hell, Lucifer was able to take stock of his body. The bruises along his back from his fall were already healing almost as fast as they appeared. The deer tail, smaller and thicker than his normal, whip cord one, protested being squished the way it was. His ears twitched as they followed every noise Alastor made, the sensation odd.

Since this appeared it was going to take a moment, unless Alastor decided to go for his throat with his teeth again, he decided to try and relieve his poor tail to distract himself from the fact that it felt like there was a tongue digging into one of the still open wounds.

Alastor's own ears twitched as the shifting of Lucifer's hips caused the sound of clothes rustling to sound through the room like a shot. Lucifer was tempted to reach up and pet one, but that would have moved all of this into territory far too close to something intimate, which this very much wasn't, thank you very much.

When the pain finally disapaited, the lapping of that insidious tongue moving from stinging to something far too close to ticklish for comfort, Lucifer decided he'd had enough. "Alright, I think you've had enough."

He was far too proud of the fact that his voice didn't shake.

Much.

His fingers dug into red sleeves as he could feel Alastor's smile brush up against the base of his ear.

"And if I haven't satisfied my curiosity?"

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

"Nope, you're done." Lucifer bucked, shoving off the grinning asshole, who went with all the grace of someone who'd gotten thier cake and ate it, too. Lucifer sat up, glaring as Alastor looked barely rumbled while he knew he himself looked like a mess.

"There, you've gotten your taste. Agreement upheld." Lucifer pulled back up his shirt, wincing at how much blood had soaked into it.

"Hmm, perhaps." Alastor placed a finger to his lips, eyes half lidded.

Something about the way it was said raised Lucifer's hackles.

Alastor merely stared back, not adding anything to his comment.

Right. Okay. Whatever.

Lucifer stood slowly in an attempt to hide the way his legs trembled. Once he felt stable, he began putting his facade back together. Buttons all buttoned up. Blood vanished with a mere wave of his hand (to Alastor's obvious disappointment).

He was slipping on his coat when Alastor rose to his own feet. Lucifer felt it was massively unfair that all it took was some minor adjustments, and the Radio Demon looked as put together as normal.

(Almost, an insidious voice whispered in the back of Lucifer's mind. Look closer, and he could see the little ways in which Alastor was affected. The slight flush to his cheeks of a successful hunt. Unhinged smile replaced with something more peaceful. The satiated hint of hunger quenched for the first time since they'd met.

This way lays trouble.)

But Lucifer shook it off, just like he shook off the foreboding feeling of Alastor holding the Crown of Hell.

He was already in too deep.

He slipped his hat on, letting the deer attributes he'd donned finally disappear. "Well, see you around, I guess."

Alastor hummed in agreement. For his own sanity, Lucifer refused to read into it any deeper.

And if his portalling out of the room was straight up turning tail and running?

Well, it wasn't like it was the first time he'd done it that month.

Tbc

Part 4

[tikitania]

Reading the Mariinsky Playbill Tea Leaves...

Now that the 242nd season of the Mariinsky has started under a new Artistic Director, Andrian Fadeev, I've been trying to glean clues as to what changes we can expect moving forward. Here are a few thoughts: The Good: The playbill with casting is released much earlier than before. (Yay!) The Interesting: Perhaps I'm reading in-between the lines, but I sense that the first month's casting signals a return to standards of emploi, and giving the primas instead of the first soloists prime evenings, which did not happen last season. For instance, Tereshkina gets the first Swan Lake, Skorik the second, and Iliushkina the third in a matinee. Those three are certainly the theater's current, most swan-like dancers whose lines exude lyricism. While Iliushkina is not a prima (yet) her casting in a matinee suggests that 1st soloists are relegated to matinees. Shakirova and Bateova are conspicuously not cast in either one...at least for now. This casting tracks with the very Russian balletomane critique that neither dancer is a swan, it's beyond their emploi. I'd place money that Shakirova is not given Odette-Odile for a long time. The Intriguing: Lopatkina's back after a notable absence since her retirement, allegedly lured by the new AD. As is Leonid Sarafanov. Having these two stars as coaches could be a real game-changer.

The Worrisome: I'm worried about their lack of repertoire and the creative void left behind after losing so many licenses. Creating home-grown masterpieces doesn't happen overnight. The Mariinsky sometimes feels like endless cycle of Swan Lake - Don Quixote and 40 Nutcrackers thrown in for good measure. If an audience is bored with this, think how the dancers must feel night after night.

The Drama: For a few months, I nervously wondered if Khoreva would ever appear on the playbill. I had imagined a Diva scenario where she refused to dance if she felt "downgraded" for being cast in the Prince's Friend's PDT and it lead to a battle with management. That concern took up a lot of free rent in my brain, so I'm pleasantly surprised to see her in Giselle on 10/17 paired with Konovalov. I cannot recall if they've danced together before. We'll see if there' any chemistry, which is noticeably absent from Khoreva's partnerships. I'm still one of the "yes, her technique is fire, but her dancing leaves me cold" factions of the balletomane world. In videos, she seems like a determined technician, but the poetry is not there…yet?

The Hopes: I'm hoping to see more men who have been stagnating in the corps given a chance to prove themselves. I've already noticed a few names that I hadn't seen before. I want to see Savalieva promoted after dancing more solo parts. I want more exciting debuts from Bulanova, Khiteeva, Bespalova, Chernavskaya, Kuznetsova, and Anushenkova. Here's to hoping…and wondering what other surprises might jump out this season.

[cherryrohan]

thth season 3 spoilers

the new app is out which means i've finally been able to dig into the game files. surprisingly, they've added all of the upcoming episode descriptions from the jump this time unlike last season.

please don't ask me for sprite assets bc the game doesn't run on the same engine as litg so it's pretty much impossible.

anyway, major episode and character spoilers are under the cut and if you share elsewhere please give credit!

Episode Descriptions

EP 4 - Hearts on Fire

You caught Jirayu and Carmen whispering secrets! Are they plotting something, or is it just a harmless conversation?

EP5 - Desperate Measures

Poppy seems very interested in your business. Will she back off, or is there about to be trouble on the horizon?

EP6 - Stolen Moments

Your suite stay gets interrupted by an uninvited guest. Can you enjoy your night, or is Bad Lana about to ruin it?

EP7 - Betrayal

Lana’s fed up with your horniness. Is her plan going to help you, or tempt you even more?

EP8 - Rules Begone!

The secret is out — Poppy is a Spy! Suddenly, her behavior makes perfect sense… but can she be forgiven?

EP9 - The Love’s Gambit

Giselle is eliminating Sean! Is the drama over, or are there more surprises?

EP10 - Paradise Exile

You’re being banished! Are you about to leave the retreat for good… or does Lana have something else planned for you?

EP11 - Second Chances

You’re back from the Banishment Room, and everyone is excited to greet you! Well… almost everyone.

EP12 - A Lovers’ Goodbye

Carmen and Jirayu have been keeping secrets, but what was their motive?

EP13 - Unexpected Turnabout

Victoria’s announcement shakes things up. Are you prepared to handle what comes next?

EP14 - Secret Confessions

Can you save Giselle on time, or has this retreat taken a turn for the worst?

EP15 - Until We Meet Again…

It's your final night at the retreat, and Lana is ready to announce the finalists. Who will walk away richer, in both money and love?

Love Interests

Beatriz, 22 from Brazil

In a world full of followers, Beatriz is a shining star. Her spontaneous spirit craves fun, adventure… and a partner who can keep up with her rhythm. Even if you stumble, she’ll be there to catch you in her warm embrace.

Carmen, 23 from Puerto Rico

Fiercely independent and ambitious, Carmen is a seductive force that turns heads and breaks hearts. Her outgoing nature and irresistible charm are as captivating as her art. This bold soul can't be easily tamed, and only the bravest would even dare to try…

Isla, 25 from Canada

Independent, authentic, and a joy to be around, Isla is ready to find love that's as lasting as her carpentry projects. Her magnetic personality will draw you in, but her playfulness and kindness will make you stay. Her guide dog Bear is ready to make a new friend as well!

Jirayu, 24 from USA

If you like fun facts, you’re in luck - Jirayu never runs out of them! Sharp-minded and well-read, he’s always ready to engage in stimulating banter. Although he’d never admit that, this pilot finds navigating relationships harder than the skies…

Mattias, 25 from USA

Confident yet caring, Mattias is the guy who will always have your back - and while he loves the game, he’s more into baking than playing the field. If you date him, you’ll become his biggest flex… even though being an NFL Quarterback is a close second!

Taz, 26 from Germany

Taz is a chef with a sharp tongue but a tender heart. Assertive both in the kitchen and the bedroom, he always exceeds the highest expectations. Once you peel away his layers, he might trust you with his heart… and even some of his secret recipes!

Zayn, 28 from USA

Zayn has taken some time off to heal his broken heart, and he’s ready to tackle dating again. Trustworthy and kind, he's a catch who promises cozy nights in and fun gaming sessions. Now if only he could use cheat codes in his dating life…

Friends

Giselle, 26 from France

A foodie with a creative flair, Giselle is beloved in all of her circles. Her ability to find joy in simple things is unmatched. She might not be a problem solver, but she’ll definitely be your biggest cheerleader.

Julian, 28 from Canada

Julian’s a musician who’s looking for someone to tune in to his beat. Practical and down to earth, he knows just what to say to break the tension… and it’s usually a joke that’s going to leave you in stitches!

Victoria, 27 from UK

An accountant by day, an activist by heart, and a rule breaker by nature, Victoria is on a mission - and she’s not about to let anyone stand in her way. She thrives on her own, but if you’re able to meet her at the top, she might just let you in on the view…

Sean, 23 from Ireland

Sean sees his receptionist title as merely a stepping stone to greatness, using his charm and fit body to get what he wants. Although he seems outgoing and talkative, he’s not the biggest team player - and he seems to value his dog more than his partners…

Friends to Love Interests

(these characters start off as friends but can be romanced at some point later in the game similar to santiago)

Avi, 23 from Ireland

Avi mastered the game of love just like he mastered chess, always staying three moves ahead. With a charm that disarms even the toughest exterior, he is the perfect partner in crime… unless he’s too busy solving one!

Poppy, 25 from UK

Poppy sizes everyone up the minute she enters the room. Flirty yet fiercely clever, she’s not just playing the field - she’s redesigning it. Behind her architectural brilliance and smirks lies a gentle, yet elusive heart… but do you dare capture it?

[mixes-archive]

how would you think köing would react to a s/o of the same height as him

pls and thank you 😊

Gleich groß

You're all requesting such creative ideas, dear visitors! I hope this is to your liking!

König was nervous. But a good nervous, almost excited in a way. A new recruit was joining their squad. Normally, he'd be cowering in his boots and hiding in his room, but the higher ups had assured him that he'd find atleast something in common with them. What that was, he was yet to find out.

As he was waiting for the new soldier to arrive together with the rest of his crew, he stood as straight as a ruler, hands at his sides, making him appear much taller. The only gesture that told he was unsure were his evermoving eyes, seemingly never staying in one place for too long.

Everyone's posture stiffened when the vehicle transporting you arrived. Most of them were told of your... less than inviting appearance, maybe slightly exaggerates, knowing how the rumor mill can be.

As the car braked, it kicked up the dry dirt on the forests floor, dust cloud adding to the drama of your arrival.

It got less dramatic when you had to... squeeze yourself out the car door, bonking your head against the top for good measure. "FUCK! Owww..."

König heard a quiet giggle turned gasp from Soap's direction when you finally stood up to your full height, cradling your forehead in the palm of your hand.

He now knew what they meant with 'having something on common.

You were as tall as him! König was expecting a lot of things, but certainly not that... Yet, he was almost happy about it! If there were two insanely tall people on the squad, they'd have to do something about the low ceiling!!

He was too excited about not having to bend down every waking moment again to notice you coming up to him to shake hands. It was only when you stood right before him, eye-to-eye when he came back.

"Oh scheiße! Sorry ehmm... Ich- Ich bin König!"

"English!" Ghost corrected him.

"Aso! Ehhh, my name is König, nice to meet you." He firmly shook your hand, not breaking eye contact. The distinct lack of blinking was weirding you out, but he also had that charm about him that only socially awkward people seemed to have.

"It's nice to meet you König." You pulled him closer by his arm, whispering only so he could hear. "Us tall people gotta stick together, alright? Can't let those shorties overpower us with their!"

You moved on to introduce yourself to the others, but he stood there, frozen like a statue. Incoherent german blabbers left his mouth and he was happy his face was covered by a mask, or else the squad surely wouldn't let him live this down.

König stated over at you towering over everyone else with a smile on your face and suddenly, he felt like he finally got to experience the highschool crush he never had.

[naurimastaur]

A prank a day keeps Severus Snape away!

Summary: in which Fred and George introduce y/n to her very first prank, and Snape into a life of eternal regret.

Pairing: slightly Fred x fem!reader

Note: the twins might be a little ooc as I haven’t read much of them in a while!

Warning: this probably needs heavily edited but I’m lazy so!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n peacefully walked down the corridor before a twin appeared at each side, linking an arm with hers.

“ Do you know what day it is?” Fred questioned. She shook her head in confusion. It was astounding if Fred remembered what year they were living in never mind what day it was. This could only mean one thing; a weasley scheme.

“should I know, or is it just something you’ve made up to entertain yourself?” She mocked.

“ It’s only the most important day of your life,” George piped in, face moving uncomfortably closer to hers. A Cheshire cats smile overcoming his features.

“ If this is another product of yours you want to test on me, do you mind getting me a lawyer first?” She groaned. “Or a legal contract that promises if I turn into an actual test Guinea pig, that you’ll buy me a pink sparkly cage to rot in?” She said batting her eyelashes at them both.

“Of course not, you know if that happened we’d stuff you down Percy’s trousers.” Fred replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What a twit,” George replied, unhelpful.

“Besides, today you are the grand master behind the prank rather than, well being the prank.” Fred replied, believing this to be a flattering position to bestow upon someone.

“Wow! Upgrades! How lucky am I?” She exclaimed.

George choosing to ignore this, immediately jumped into the plan. “We need you to tell moaning myrtle that Snape’s caught a fancy for her.”

“You want me to tell the ghost of a fourteen year old that a grown man is in love with her?”

“Precisely! See George, I told you she’d get on board in no time!” Fred beamed.

George continued, “And while you girly talk with mytrle we’ll cause a distraction forcing Snape into the bathroom and into his phantom lover’s hands.” He smiled accomplished.

“ If only you two put this much thought into school, imagine the outcome.”

“ To end up as greasy and alone as Snape?” Fred replied, grinning.

“ Letting your emo haircut from adolescence follow you twenty years into adulthood?” George added.

“ Having your only friends be your empty chemistry beakers?” Fred continued.

“ The last and only interaction with a woman being your own mother?” George added, for good measure.

Y/n shook her head in plain disappointment, knowing that the real shame was coming from her eagerness to agree with the plan. To join in on the fun for once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh wow I seemed to have dropped this strange unfolded note from Professor Snape’s diary.” Y/n called out, pacing the girl’s bathroom. “It would be really such a shame if anyone were to read it!”

“Professor Snape has a diary?” Myrtle said suspiciously, popping out of one of the near toilets. Is that still unhygienic even if she’s a ghost and technically doesn’t touch anything?

“Hey don’t judge we all have our own coping mechanisms.” Y/n replied with a hand on her heart and a solemn look on her face. “Look I’d really appreciate if you gave that note back before I get in trouble,” she said, adding a slight quiver to her lip.

Myrtle, forever the drama seeking ghost teen took it into her grip, ignoring y/n’s pleas and gleefully giggling at her misfortune. However, all her giddiness was ceased the moment she read the note.

“Professor Snape, likes… me?” She questioned, unsure of herself and even more unsure of the paper before her.

“Well,” y/n replied hesitantly, ��� I really wasn’t supposed to say.” She mustered the most shame filled look she could imagine, it wasn’t difficult as it naturally seemed to appear whenever the twins were around. “But you didn’t hear it from me!”

She was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps and panicked shouts from the corridor. “HIDE!”

“Sorry got to go!” She ran, following the familiar voice of Fred, leaving myrtle in a more petrified state than the basilisk attack fifty years ago.

“Into the closet quickly!” Fred urged shoving her in. Wasn’t chivalry just alive and thriving amongst young men today? Peeking out of the slight crack in the doors frame they saw Snape approach, his raggedy cloak cascading behind him, before his path was blocked by a semi- transparent creature.

“Why hello handsome.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How does Myrtle of All people have a better love life than me?” Y/n moaned, throwing her head back against Fred’s chest in despair, forced into his embrace due to the lack of space.

Fred smiled to himself looking down at her, letting out a lighthearted chuckle.

“Are you teasing me?” She questioned, humour laced in her tone paired with a scolding look in her eyes.

“Course not, wouldn’t imagine it love.” Fred held up his hands in mock surrender. “Besides,” he continued on, wrapping his arms around her frame, “I think you’re just looking at the wrong people is all.”

Y/n froze, catching the suggestion in his tone. Before she could fully process however, the door of their hidden sanctuary was thrown open, a steaming Snape stood in front of them.

Well shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Hello I’m unsure if this’ll get any attention but my first post did well so I’m back again! Lmk if I should stick to x fem!reader or nb!reader.

@thescrunkler just for you babes xx (if you hate it close your eyes).

[matt0044]

So... where are we precisely on Vivziepop?

I don't want to make... assumptions of anybody's specific intent but the recent rumblings of discontent seems to follow certain patterns that I've become... a touch too familiar with.

Thing becomes popular to an unprecedented degree. Fanart, fan edits, maybe even full on fan music videos. Might be because the creator had made a name for themselves or they just got lucky right out the gate. Either or.

Thing grows in popularity in ways listed above and has its praises sung for a variety of reasons. Many of which may pertain to how certain social demographics are portrayed compared to elsewhere or whatever came before.

Thing had continuous installments that built on and craft a narrative for the characters portrayed with revelations galore. Certain aspects are revealed to be more... complicated.

Said aspects intrigue fans by having more than meets the eye while... souring others due to their first impressions, feeling their initial takes were "retconned" at best or "deficated upon" at worst.

This... disenchantment as it were results in alienated fans becoming more critical of the story and characters. Some of this revolves around certain types of characters being scrutinized in how they don't measure up to who the story appears to be focusing on most.

Something like queer representation is called into question when the female cast feels... off in retrospect.

The setting may be established as a less than morally conscious place to be and have the residing characters be hot messes as a result. However, some actions and choices of words may come across as a step too far lest it be a reflection of the writer/creator's beliefs.

This coalition of criticism may be met with pushback from those who dispute much of their points. Sometimes it's well worded and brings up new perspectives. Sometimes... it's largely could be just "Aw, shaddap!" on repeat.

Unfortunately, neither side (oh boy...) has a monopoly on assholes that put their emotions first and pleasantries second. The critical side will cite the stans as the reason why they exist and that "it's okay to be critical of the things you love." But some of the more overzealous members of that side may make you wonder, "So... where's the love?"

These overzealous members in question may often voice their discontent with various blanket statements and take counterpoints to that as being from stans who can’t take criticism. This often exhibits a mentality that because they’re calling out “the bad thing” and “the bad creator,” it’s end of discussion.

The creator may feel prodded to throw their hat into the ring not just over their creation but over what people try to construe them as purely based on their art. Sometimes they can come across as overtly defensive and averse to criticism themselves but with how much bile seem to be slung their way, it's never as clean cut.

Among the detractors who do care and want to approach in good faith, you have outrage merchants and outrage addicts that do in fact only want to stir up drama. Rather than help solve anything at all, the former wants to sell these stories TMZ style while the latter wants something to be angry at to feel in control of... anything. These muddy the waters for whomever might be hoping for a more productive discussion.

Adding fuel to this fire nobody actually asked for at those who have always disliked the creator be it for past works or as of recently due to word of mouth. Because a lot of their art revolving around what point number seven goes over, there's a very Anti-Shipper mentality of hating the "bad thing" on principle. Especially when the work is purposefully incorporating tasteless elements that this circle of "fans" feel should be avoided period.

I could go on and on but the point is that I've seen this dance routine more than a few times before where Popular Thing(TM) needs to be "taken down a peg and nobody can stop trying one up the other before it escalates.

Now more than ever with smaller indie projects like for animation. It's so hard to take certain people at their word at times because they either operate with a limited perspective or are willfully ignoring other points of view to feed their feeling of betrayal.

They comes of as jilted ex-partners who despise that the one that broke their heart's been able to move on. There's a sense of, "If I can't like it anymore, nobody can."

[obey-me-disaster]

Runway Drama

A/N: This is another fanfic for Mammon's birthday ^-^

Besides some small Mammon x gn!MC, there are no ships. Mammon is the focus

Summary: A demon is trying to start drama with Mammon to get him in trouble

"None of you will guess what happened to me today!" Mammon said angrily as he took a seat next to MC.

"Judging by the sour expression on your face, I guess nothing good..." MC handed him the portion of food they had saved for him.

"Those jerks from my latest modeling gig just told me that I am no longer part of the subject." Playing with his food, Mammon continued. "No explanation, no nothing! When I got there, they just told me I was not needed anymore, and they basically kicked me out!"

"That's certainly weird..did you try to scam one of the demons in charge by chance?" Satan inquired.

"Since I've had this contract that paid well, I had no reason to think of a new scheme. Tho, with how these guys have treated me today, I should have done it!" Seemingly losing his appetite as he thought more about his situation, he pushed his plate aside. "Damn it, I really wasted a good opportunity to make money."

"Still, the fact you were basically kicked out of the project without as much of an explanation does raise some concerns..." Lucifer mused over what his younger brother had just said.

"I will just ask them for an explanation tomorrow, then! They can't just toss the Great Mammon aside like that!"

"I don't think you'll have to do this anymore. Look." Asmo handed his phone to Mammon before he could make any other comment.

"Seems like they replaced you with Zephar." Asmo said the demon's name in a huffy voice, clearly annoyed at having to think about that demon.

"You don't seem to like him that much.." Beel comments while stuffing his face with food again.

"Of course I wouldnt' like someone as unsightly as him! He is known to start drama with others in order to make himself look good, and not only that." Asmo snatches the phone away from Mammon, ignoring his brother's protests.

"He also stole some of my designs, claiming they were his!" Showing his brothers photos from one of Zephar's older modeling shows

"He is probably after Mammon now, trying to do something similar."

Yawning, Belphehor finally seems to be interested in the whole situation. "So what you're saying is that Zephar is trying to get Mammon to react in order to start drama?"

"He just has to ignore him, right? Sure, he lost this modeling gig, but by not reacting, he should get bored of Mammon and leave him alone." Levi suggested it without breaking his concentration from his game.

"If this guy went as far as to get the others to kick me out of this show, then I am sure he is not going to leave me alone." Mammon commented while playing with his fork, the food long forgotten, "It's not the first time I've worked with these kinds of demons, but they sure never get less annoying to deal with."

As the dinner went on, the demon brothers started to shit talk about Zephar, even after there was no more food for them to eat. It wasn't until the human chimed in that they shifted the topic of discussion.

"What if we plan something so he will leave Mammon alone for good? We might as well get some sort of revenge for Asmo too while we're at it." MC said after getting all of their attention. At the mention of getting back at Zephar, all of the demon brother's attention moved onto forming a plan for it.

After a week of planning and pulling some strings with the help of Diavolo and Lucifer their plan could finally start taking shape.

"Who would have thought we could make it in time with our plan so we could hold a runway show around the same time as Zephar?" Asmo said as he was taking Mammon's measurements.

"Still...we only have a few days to plan and make all the outfits, we will need to pull some serious all nighters" Levi added, rather nervously. He and Asmo were the only ones who really knew how to make outfits from scratch, while Mammon, MC and Belphegor could help only to a certain point.

"Just the fact that we've announced a runway show around the time of Zephar's show is enough to get that asshole all rilled up." Mammon assured his younger brother. "Especially with you as the star model and Asmo as the main designer... I am just worried he will try to start something," MC raised their concerns. Everyone was aware that by announcing a show in partnership with Majolish, they would garner a lot of attention, whether unwanted or not.

"Oh well, that'll be a bridge to cross when we get there. It's not like we didn't knew what we were getting into." Mammon commented, and with that everyone went back to doing their respective tasks.

"Everyone, I have some news related to Zephar." Satan hurriedly came into the room, getting everyone's attention. "An acquaintance told me that rumors about Mammon have started to spread around."

"What kind of rumors!?" Levi blurted out as he made his way to Satan along with the others.

"Apparently there is someone spreading rumors about how Mammon treated everyone badly at the last agency, and that's why he was kicked out. Some even said that he looked down on some of the other models. " The forth born seemed in deep thought as he explained everything. "While other demons don't really know where all of these rumors started from, I think we all know the source."

"Mammon may be a money hungry idiot that scams people, but he would not treat his coworkers badly!" Asmo started to rant loudly, putting any clothing material down so he wouldn't damage it during his angry rant.

"Geez, thanks for the compliment, if I can even call it that."

"Mammon, you look oddly calm for someone who is getting their reputation tarnished." Levi chimed in, seeing his older brother being unimpressed by the whole situation.

  "Well, it's not like I didn't expect that, especially after Zephar tried to confront me in person not too long ago." Mammon merely scratched his head while the others fell silent.

"He came at you in person? When? And why didn't you tell us sooner?" MC tried to make sense of whatever was going through Mammon's head.

"It was just some lame attempt at taunting me. He was most likely trying to anger me so he could use it against me later on but it didn't work, so he left quite upset."  Mammon continued recalling the whole thing like it was nothing. "It felt pretty good to see him getting all upset at his failed attempt."

"You really should have mentioned this earlier. Anyway, I already got in contact with some demons in order to keep these rumors as low as possible." Satan pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to not get even more angry at the whole situation.

"Aren't you worried that Zephar will act out even more now? If someone was coming at me that way, I would probably just dig a hole for me to die in!" Levi tried to argue, visibly shivering at the thought of being in a similar situation.

"Don't ya worry too much, it's not my first time dealing with such demons, I've got everything under control." Making his way back to continue working on the outfits, the second born turned towards the others. "We really should get back to finishing these if we want to put Zephar back in his place."

Everyone looked a bit shocked at how calm and serious Mammon was about the whole thing. Satan left the room while the others went back to making the outfits for the runway. Seeing Mammon be so sure of himself made the others have more faith in his plan.

° ° °

Designers, make-up and hair stylists, and their assistants were running back and forth, making sure all of the models were ready to go face the public.

The runway show was held in one of Majolish's biggest buildings, where multiple catwalks and stages were set up with some of the more elaborate set ups they had. Both longer runways and shorter ones were scattered symetrically around the building. Still, at the center of the room, there was the longest and most intricate of the stages, where the more eye catching clothing and accessories would be presented.

While a lot of models and designers of Majolish decided to take part in the show, Mammon and Asmo were still the most advertised out of all of them.

"Lord Asmodeus, I am surprised you're not one of the models participating in this event." One of the make-up artists that was making the final touches on Mammon's make-up said.

Well, you see, this is Mammon's show, and if I were to take part in it, I'm afraid everyone would pay attention to yours truly~" Asmo winked at the demon taking care of Mammon's makeup while ignoring the sour expression his older brother is giving him.

"He should really be more thankful to have such an amazing and generous younger brother such as me," Asmo explained, capturing the lesser demon's full attention and earning an eyeroll from Mammon.

Yeah, yeah, I'm so grateful for your help, oh dear younger brother of mine." While his voice was full of sarcasm, Asmo could tell that Mammon was genuinely grateful for all the help he had gotten from his brothers. The make-up artist didn't seem to catch the sarcasm in his voice and looked pleased with the second born's response.

In the midst of Mammon and Asmo's banter, the doors got thrown wide open, revealing a really paniked Levithan, who looked like he was on the verge of fainting.

"Asmo, Mammon, we have a problem!" Hurrying to sit next to them, he starts explaining what got him all panicked.

"A good part of the outfits are gone! To be more exact, the ones that Mammon was supposed to wear and Asmo created!"

While Asmo's eyes widened as some of Beel's plates, Mammon looked unbothered by the whole thing. "MC and Beel went to investigate the whole thing and try to catch any suspects, but we might not find everything by the time the runway starts." Levi finally finished explaining everything, looking just a little more relieved after telling his brothers about the situation.

While Leviathan was catching his breath, Mammon got up and made his way towards the door. "Mammon, wait! Where are you going? Now is not the time to run around during such a dire situation!" Asmo said annoyed at his older brother's seemingly uncaring demeanor.

"I've got something to check, so don't worry about me."

Neither of his younger brothers seemed convinced by his words, so he continued. "I've made a plan just for this situation. You two go start the show as planned, and when my turn comes, put on this video to play on one of the projectors." The greed demon throws a memory stick at Leviathan as he leaves the room.

Looking at one another, both Leviathan and Asmodeus still looked worried but decided to go ahead with the plan, after all, it was not every day they saw Mammon look so sure of himself and coolheaded.

The runway starts just as planned, with the models making their way first from the smaller stages first, and then gradually coming out to the bigger catwalks, drawing the crowd's attention towards the biggest catwalk, where Mammon was supposed to come from.

All of the lights pointed to where Mammon was supposed to come out from, but no one was there. The crowd seemed both surprised and annoyed at the lack of presence from the main star. Whispers started to spread around, some trying to make sense of the situation while others downright slandering the avatar of greed's name.

The whispering went on for a minute or so, and Levi was getting ready to set up the video he got from Mammon to be played until screams could be heard from the entrance. The doors flew open as a bunch of crows flew into the room, flying in all directions and scaring the guests.

As the crows started to sit in different parts of the room, the view cleared for all of the guests to see none other than Zephar, kneeling down in front of the main runway, trying to catch his breath. Both Beelzebub and MC were standing up on either side of him to make sure he would stay where he was.

"Everyone, I am sorry for the messy scene you had to witness." All eyes moved from Zephar to the main stage, where they could see Mammon walking down on it, in the outfit that Asmo created. "We had a situation with a clothing thief who tried to ruin our show." Mammon said as he was pointing towards the demon kneeling down on the floor.

"That's absurd! I was dragged by these damn birds and those brutes in the back!" Zephar shouted as he pointed towards Beelzebub and MC. "I would never lower my level so much to the point of stealing from another runway show!" He was visibly shaking with anger and wheezing for all the crowd to see. Guests started to talk among themselves as flashes of cameras were going off in the background.

"That's a bold claim you just made, especially considering that they're all just lies." Mammon's voice raised just a bit, not daring to let it slip just what kind of words he would like to tell Zephar. "Levi, play the video I gave you earlier."

Murmurs from the crowd could be heard, but once the video started to play everyone fell silent. The video not only showed Zephar clearly stealing the outfits and accessories but also all the attempts to get Mammon angry and even Zephar talking with some other demons about how he wants to ruin the show and put Mammon in a bad light. Everything, from the fake rumors to the nasty words and the plan to ruin the show, was caught on camera for everyone to see.

"What was the whole 'dragging you here by force around'? again" Asmo made his way next to Mammon, crouching down to look at Zephar. "What's with the look on your face? A model as popular as you shouldn't make such pathetic expressions."

Zephar tried to lash out at Asmo in a fit of anger, but before he could even reach the scene, Beelzebu dragged him down while MC put on some magic chains on him. He tried to free himself from them but that quickly stopped once they started to glow. MC got down to his level.

"If I were you, I would be careful; the more you move, the hotter they'll burn, and it would be such a shame to have burn marks on that body of yours. Unless the chains melt through your body before that." Standing up with a smug expression, they looked up at Mammon and winked at him as a sign for him to go on.

"As you can see, Zephar has been harassing me for quite a while, trying to ruin my reputation in the name of starting drama." Mammon spoke up to the public.

"Not only did he get me kicked out of my previous modeling gig but he also tried to ruin this whole show." Gesturing to his crows, he continued his explanation. "I used my crows to spy on him in order to get this whole thing on camera for all of you to see. I kind of hoped it wouldn't come to this, but it doesn't matter now."

Everyone looked at him in awe. The audience, because they just witnessed the whole thing, and his brothers, cause they didn't know Mammon could act so calm and collected, only MC had a smug smile on their face as they looked up at Mammon.

"We'll take it from here now." From the same doors that Zephar burst into the room, Satan , Belphehor and Lucifer make their way towards him.

"You've really got some guts, coming after my brothers like that." Lucifer looked down on him, smirking a little at the shameful state of the demon beneath him.

"We have also looked into some of your history, so the whole situation with Mammon that you've started isn't the whole thing you'll have to worry about." Satan explained as he motioned to Beelzebub to pick Zephar up.

"Man, can you get any more lame than you are already? I'm surprised you made it so far with how sloppy you were with hiding all of your stuff" Belphegor yawned while trying to mock him.

"Guess that's our cue to leave." Beel tightened his grip on Zephar. To everyone else, it looked like the sixth born was just having a more secure grip on the model, but in reality, he just did it in order to warn Zephar that he would eat him if he tried anything.

After Zephar was dragged away, Asmo got everyone's attention. "I am truly sorry for the delay of our runway. I hole you've enjoyed the show that we just put on but now is time to get back to the main show!"

Before making his way to the backstage area, Asmo turned towards Mammon with a big smile on his face. I can't believe we actually pulled that off, do you think the others are putting the fear of God into him right as we speak?"

Mammon, no longer being capable of hiding his grin replied. "I am sure they are doing so much worse than that"

[north-pole-picture-co]

The best-advertised man in all the world!

Do you want to see more Fred Cook movie ads? Of course you do! Unless otherwise noted, these ads were all published in the trade magazine Moving Picture World in 1911.

[vol. 8, no. 8, 25 February 1911]

You heard the man! This picture “has set New York agog.” Who needs scientific data to back up their wild claims when you have the magic of cinema? I mean, the movie shows him taking measurements. That’s just as good as the real thing, right? Right?

[vol. 8 no. 10, 11 March 1911]

“Greatest success in the annals of picturedom.” I’m not so sure about that. “The world’s biggest conspiracy.” If you say so. Still, I suppose playing to packed crowds at the Manhattan Opera House is no small feat. Look at the size of the place! Even after 113 years and many modifications, it remains an impressive venue.

[vol. 8, no. 12, 25 March 1911]

“A film which both friends and enemies of the explorer will flock to see.” Any publicity is good publicity!

I’d love to see some of the “elegant line of lithographs, window cards, heralds, cuts and lobby photos” mentioned.

[vol. 8, no. 13, 1 April 1911]

Fred and Wilbert Melville (director of the movie and manager of their little “production company”) tailored the act for different theaters and audiences, with Melville stepping in to deliver some of the lectures.

“BEWARE of tricksters offering spurious Dr. Cook films.” Did Cook have to contend with movie piracy, in addition to attacks on his honor as an explorer? Piracy was actually pretty common in the early days of the movies, because the copyright status of motion pictures was (at the time) up in the air.

Another reference to counterfeit Cook films appears in The Nickelodeon, vol. 5, no. 12, 25 March 1911:

Now we return to Moving Picture World:

[vol. 8, no. 16, 22 April 1911]

States rights are going fast, so get your bids in now! The way film distribution worked back then, the production company would sell the film to a distributor who would sell it to theaters in their state or territory. Local theaters played the print over and over again until the film fell apart, squeezing as much use (and as much profit) out of it as possible.

This last one is my favorite for sheer drama. From Motography, vol. 5 no. 4, April 1911:

“The nation wants to know who lied!”

“The best loved—most hated—best advertised man in all the world, Dr. Frederick A. Cook”

Great reels, wonder-slides, and masterful lectures, oh my! It’s no wonder distributors were snapping up the rights in advance. Or at least they were if we believe Cook and Melville.

“Has Cook had fair play?” You decide!

[brighteststar707]

Faye!!! Congrats on your two years 🎉 I'm so so incredibly happy that we met through good old Mysme I could CRY fr. You are so special to me!!

So I was thinking for a while but didn't want the slots to go, so I'm gonna come outta nowhere and SHOCK HORROR not pick either of my two husbands, Jumin or Zen.

But how about number 30, confiding in them, with Vanderwood. The little tease we got in V's route just made me smitten at the time. He literally is thrust into the RFA drama and I can't help but feel he'd connect with MC. Like lord help us Vandy, wtf is going on.

Lola! Thank you so much for your message! I'm so grateful to have met you, you mean so much to me and I wish only the best for you <3

I'm pleasantly surprised by your request! It's a good event when I can write more than one fic for Vandy.

Picture this: It's V's route, Seven has saved you from Mint Eye, now you, V Seven and Vandy are in the cabin. Your relationship with V is.... not really existent at this point so this fic could be romantic when you squint hehehe

Love ya <3

Confiding in Them

✦Vanderwood x Gn!Reader ✦ Words: 1553

Time in the cabin feels like it has slowed down to a crawl. It is dark outside, and eerily silent. Inside, there are only the sounds of footsteps back and forth across the floorboards, and V’s harsh breathing in the next room. The repetitive nature of the noises has only added to the liminal feeling.

You had reassured the others that you weren’t tired, and then promptly fallen asleep on the sofa, still sitting upright with your jacket draped over your shoulders. When your eyes opened again, you weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep for, or where your dreams ended and reality began. Your life lately has been so strange, it has been hard to keep track. You had dreamt of car chases and cult initiations, the faces and voices of your loved ones so close and yet out of reach. How was that any different to what you had experienced over the last week?

Someone had covered you with a spare blanket when you were asleep, as well as lit a fire in the fireplace opposite you. It was warm, and you were still disoriented from sleep, so you stayed put, wrapping the blanket tighter around yourself and watching the fire dance over the logs.

You allow yourself, maybe for the first time, to process the fact that you managed to get away from Mint Eye and everything they had planned for you. In the (relative) silence of the cabin, with everyone else occupied, it starts to sink in. Back there, with a part of you constantly in fight or flight, it was hard to process the reality of your situation. You were just trying to survive. Now that you’re safe, it all hits at once.

The isolated compound, the flowery pink room, the wardrobe full of clothes made to your measurements. Ray, monitoring your conversations with the RFA, his kindness that teetered on the brink of desperation. The minty blue of his eyes, too vibrant to be natural. The silence in the hallways, so unsettling for a building so full of people.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

You jump and turn your head towards the speaker. You were too caught up in your own thoughts to hear him approach you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Vanderwood says. To his credit, he does actually look apologetic.

His voice is quiet, deep, and still unfamiliar to you. You have grown used to the voices of the different RFA members, have even started to find a certain comfort in hearing them. On the other hand, he is still practically a stranger to you.

You had very briefly met Vanderwood when he first got to the cabin to help Seven, but you had said little to each other since.

“It’s okay. I’m just a bit jumpy, I guess.”

“From what I’ve seen tonight and what Seven told me – which isn’t much, mind you - that’s not surprising.”

Seven has been keeping an eye on Vanderwood since he entered with a vaguely threatening air you haven’t yet seen from him, reminiscent of someone keeping their attack dog on a short leash.

“What did Seven tell you?”

He joins you on the sofa, sighing deeply before answering. He has been at V’s bedside, tending to him in his terrible state, since arriving, and he has good reason to be tired.

“He has kept most of the story from me. I know that that guy back there has been fed more different drugs than I’ve ever seen before and that you’re his…?” He leaves it open-ended and throws you a meaningful look. He’s still trying to fill the holes in his story.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t even know what we are.” Thinking about V too much makes you scared all over again, so you change the subject. “What else do you know?”

“Nothing except that you were there with them. He’s smart enough to keep RFA stuff away from agency stuff most of the time. I guess desperate times call for desperate measures, though.”

“You can say that again.”

You sound wearier than you mean to. The longer you think about everything, the more ridiculous it all sounds. You watch as a log cracks in the fireplace with a satisfying pop and feel Vanderwood turn to assess you for a moment.

“And who are you in all of this?”

“That’s a long story.”

“And I am a very good listener. Literally, it’s part of my job.”

You laugh. He doesn’t.

“Really, I feel like I haven’t talked to a single person since I arrived - Seven doesn’t count. I need a change of scenery.”

It isn’t that his voice softens, but he sounds like he’s choosing his words more intentionally this time he speaks. It makes him sound more sincere. Maybe that’s what encourages you to indulge him. Or maybe, you just need someone to help ground you now that you feel like you’ve detached from reality.

“Well, I was sort of… kidnapped and held hostage in this cult?”

His eyebrows disappearing into his fringe is the only thing that gives away his surprise. He scans you once over, a well-practiced look. He’s looking for any obvious damage.

“I’m fine, you say quickly, “Seven managed to save me before anything really bad could happen.”

He nods. “You can trust him with these things.” He thinks for a moment, before quickly adding, like a sudden thought that came into his mind “were you with the hacker?”

“Yeah.”

“You met him? What was he like?”

The questions tumble out of his mouth faster than he can stop them. Is this what he sounds like when he’s excited? You had heard him discussing the hacker with Seven earlier, asking questions with his eyes wide. Turns out it’s rare for someone to give Seven this much trouble.

“Strange. Kind of sad. I wish there was something I could do for him.”

Vanderwood’s enthusiasm vanishes.

“Then he sounds just like the rest of us.”

In the silence that follows, you both turn your attention back to the fireplace. The flames seem to have a life of their own, and your cheeks feel warm from the heat of it. Somewhere, from another room, you hear Seven’s voice. You wonder who he’s talking to, or if it's just to himself.

“So, if that guy,” Vanderwood gestures back to the bedroom where V is sleeping, “was drugged to oblivion by that cult, how did you get out okay?”

“He has a bit of a personal history with their founder. The whole RFA does, actually, but his is more… delicate, from what I understand. See, I’m the stranger in this equation.”

“Huh. I don’t know why I expected this to be simple. Nothing Seven involves himself in ever is.”

“They used to all be like a family once apparently. I’m still trying to understand it all myself.”

He puts his head on his hands for a second in a show of exhaustion. “Maaaaan…. how are you staying sane through all of this? Just hearing the gist of things is making me tired.”

You’ve been asked this question a few times, but you’ve never given the real answer any thought before. Next to V, who could barely stand upright and was talking to the air last time you were at his bedside, you were always fine. It felt wrong to even imply otherwise.

But now, when you think about where you were a week ago and how much has changed since then, you aren’t so sure. You can’t remember the last time you felt rested and, even though you’ve been reassured that you’re safe here, you’re scared someone is watching you. You can’t even think of walking down the street by yourself before you break out in goosebumps.

"Oh. I guess you hadn’t gotten that far yet, had you?”

“No… I guess not. Is it that obvious?”

He holds out a gloved hand in front of your face and taps your forehead once, lightly.

“You’re easy to read. Or maybe it’s just me.”

With only the flickering firelight on his face, his expression is hard to make out, but you find some comfort in his gesture.

“I feel like none of it is real. At least if you can see it, it means that I’m not making any of this up.”

He nods and you lapse back into a comfortable silence.

“Hey, I know it may not be much coming from me, but I think you’ve got some good people on your side at the moment.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to ask, “Is that including you?”

He seems to be stunned for a moment before he smiles. It transforms him into a brand-new person, and you can imagine what a different life might have looked like on him. Your anxiety gets pushed down by a wave of pride at managing to elicit that expression from him. You have a feeling it’s quite rare.

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

Suddenly, V groans loudly, startling the both of you. Vanderwood jumps back to his feet and quickly follows the sound to the bedroom door. Before he disappears completely, he turns to you and says, “Listen, I need to go back to playing nurse, but can we talk more a bit later?”

You smile.

“I’d like that.”